#but it looks more finished like that for sure

[egophiliac]

trying to finish up some older stuff before the new year (and also subject everyone to more endless Meleanor forever)

have a good one, guys! ❄️

[harrysfolklore]

christ-max -mv1

summary: you invite your boyfriend max to spend christmas with you for the first time, however, your family doesn't quite believe you're dating a formula 1 world champion. wc: 5.8k

folkie radio: HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOUUUU! i hope you're having the best day ever with your loves ones. this fic ended up being longer than i intended but i hope you like it!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

You're nestled into Max's side on his couch, wrapped in the soft throw blanket he keeps specifically for these quiet moments together. The afternoon light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his Monaco apartment, casting a glow across the room. Your feet are tucked under you, and you can smell the lingering scent of the coffee you both made earlier.

The Netflix show you'd put on - some random documentary about deep-sea creatures - has become mere background noise. Max's fingers are threading through your hair in that gentle way that always makes you melt, occasionally stopping to massage your scalp. .

"I can't believe the season's actually over," you murmur, tracing lazy patterns on his arm. "Feels weird not having to plan around race weekends anymore."

Max chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest where your head rests. "Yeah, but now we have to plan around all the end-of-year events instead. Did you see how many galas and ceremonies are coming up?"

"At least those don't involve you flying halfway across the world," you tease, tilting your head to look up at him. His hair is slightly messy, free from its usual styling, and you resist the urge to reach up and run your fingers through it.

"True," he agrees, then glances at his phone on the coffee table. "Speaking of events, I can't believe it's already December. Christmas is going to be here before we know it. Guess time flies when you're busy winning championships."

Your heart skips a beat. This is the opening you've been waiting for. You've been thinking about this for weeks, planning how to bring it up. "Actually… I wanted to ask you something about Christmas," you start, sitting up slightly to face him better.

Max's blue eyes meet yours, curious. "What's on your mind?"

"Well…" you bite your lip, suddenly feeling nervous despite knowing there's no reason to be. "I was wondering if you'd want to spend Christmas with me and my family this year? I know we've kept things private, but I really want them to meet you, and-"

"Wait, really?" Max interrupts, his whole face lighting up with that boyish excitement that made you fall for him in the first place. "You want me to meet your family?"

You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Of course I do. We've been together almost a year now, and they keep asking why I'm always smiling at my phone." You playfully poke his side. "Which is your fault, by the way."

He catches your hand, intertwining your fingers. "My fault? I'm just being my naturally charming self," he grins, then his expression turns slightly more serious. "But are you sure? I mean, won't they be surprised when you show up with, well…"

"With a four-time World Champion?" you finish for him, laughing. "Actually, my dad might pass out. He's been watching F1 since before I was born. He has no idea I've been dating his favorite driver."

Max's eyebrows shoot up. "I'm his favorite driver?"

"Don't let it go to your head," you warn playfully. "But yeah, he's got your merchandise and everything. It's actually kind of embarrassing how much he talks about you during race weekends."

Max throws his head back laughing, and you can't help but join in. "Oh God, this is going to be interesting," he says, wiping at his eyes. "What about the rest of your family?"

"Well, Mom will probably try to feed you until you burst - she's like that with everyone. And my little sister Ruby, she's seven and she's going to have so many questions. She's in that phase where she wants to know everything about everything."

"I can handle questions," Max says confidently, then hesitates. "What kind of questions are we talking about?"

You pretend to think about it. "Oh, you know, probably things like 'How fast have you ever driven?' 'Have you ever crashed?' 'Do you want to marry my sister?'"

Max nearly chokes on air at the last one, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "You're joking, right?"

"About Ruby? Nope, she has absolutely no filter," you laugh, then soften your voice. "But seriously, they're going to love you. Just be yourself - the you I know, not the racing driver everyone else sees."

He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'd love to spend Christmas with your family. I can't wait to meet them." He pauses, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Should I wear my race suit when I meet your dad?"

You swat his arm, laughing. "Don't you dare! He'll actually faint." You settle back against his chest, feeling warm and content. "Thank you for saying yes. It means a lot to me."

"Thank you for asking me," he murmurs into your hair. "I love you."

"I love you too," you respond, smiling as his arms tighten around you. The documentary continues playing, forgotten again as you both start planning for Christmas, trading ideas and jokes about how to break the news to your family.

You're sitting cross-legged on Max's bed while he's in the shower, your phone propped up against a pillow as you FaceTime your family. Your mom's face fills most of the screen, with your dad peering over her shoulder and little Ruby bouncing around trying to get a better view.

"Honey, we can barely see you. The lighting is terrible," your mom critiques, and you adjust your position slightly.

"Better?"

"Much better! Now, what's this important thing you wanted to tell us about Christmas?" Your mom asks, while Ruby shouts "Is it presents?" in the background.

You take a deep breath, trying to contain your smile. "Well, I wanted to let you know that I'm bringing someone with me this year… my boyfriend."

There's an immediate explosion of excitement. Ruby starts jumping up and down, your mom gasps dramatically, and your dad's eyebrows shoot up with interest.

"Finally!" your mom exclaims. "We've been wondering when you'd introduce him. You've been so secretive about this boyfriend of yours."

"What's his name?" Ruby pipes up, her face suddenly taking up half the screen as she pushes closer to the camera. "Is he nice? Does he like Disney movies?"

You laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yes, Rubes, he's very nice. And his name is…" you pause, knowing what's coming. "Max. Max Verstappen."

There's a moment of silence before your dad bursts out laughing. "Good one, sweetheart. Now, what's his real name?"

"I'm serious, Dad. I'm dating Max Verstappen."

Your mom is trying to hold back her laughter now too. "Honey, isn't that the racing driver you and your father are always watching? The one your dad has all those caps and shirts of?"

"Yes, and I'm actually dating him," you insist, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Ruby's face scrunches up in confusion. "The fast car man? From TV?"

"The very same one, Rubes."

Your dad wipes tears from his eyes. "Come on now, what's next? Are you going to tell us you're best friends with Lewis Hamilton too?"

"Dad!" you groan, running a hand over your face. "I'm being serious! We've been dating for almost a year. I'm literally at his place right now!"

"In Monaco?" your dad asks skeptically. "Prove it."

You swing your phone around to show the familiar view of Monaco through the windows, but your dad just shakes his head. "Could be any apartment in Monaco."

"You're impossible!" you huff. "Fine, don't believe me. You'll see at Christmas."

Ruby presses her face closer to the screen again. "Will he bring his race car?"

"No, Rubes, he can't bring the race car," you say, softening your tone for your little sister. "But I promise you'll love him."

After a few more minutes of your family teasing you about your "imaginary Formula 1 driver boyfriend," you end the call with a mix of frustration and amusement. Just as you flop back onto the bed, you hear the bathroom door open and Max walks out, his hair still damp from the shower.

"How'd it go?" he asks, noticing your expression.

You let out a laugh. "They think I'm making you up. They literally don't believe I'm dating you."

Max raises his eyebrows, looking amused as he sits next to you on the bed. "Really?"

"Really. Dad laughed so hard he nearly cried. And Ruby, my little sister, just wants to know if you're bringing your race car for Christmas."

"Sorry to disappoint Ruby," he grins, then looks thoughtful. "You know, maybe we should've waited to tell them in person. The looks on their faces would've been priceless."

"Oh, don't worry," you sit up, wrapping your arms around his neck. "They'll still be priceless. Dad's going to lose it when he realizes all those times he was rambling about you during races, he was actually talking about his daughter's boyfriend."

Max laughs, pulling you closer. "What else should I know before meeting them?"

"Well, Ruby's seven and obsessed with Frozen. She'll definitely make you watch it and probably sing along too."

"I can handle that," he says confidently.

"And recite all the lines?"

"…Maybe not that."

"And act out the scenes with her?"

Max's eyes widen slightly. "What have I gotten myself into?"

You kiss his cheek. "Too late to back out now, Verstappen. You're stuck with us."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he murmurs, pulling you in for a proper kiss. "Even if it means playing Olaf the snowman."

"Oh no, you'll definitely be playing Elsa. Ruby's very particular about casting."

The look of horror on his face makes you burst out laughing, and soon he's joining in too. As your laughter dies down, you can't help but think about how perfect this feels - being here with him, planning to spend Christmas with your family, even if they don't believe you yet. You can't wait to see their faces when you show up at their door with Max Verstappen himself.

"Hey," Max says softly, breaking into your thoughts. "What are you smiling about?"

"Just thinking about how Christmas is going to be interesting this year."

"Interesting is one way to put it," he grins. "Should I wear my race suit when we arrive?"

"Don't you dare! Dad will actually faint."

"That's kind of the point," he winks, and you grab a pillow to hit him with, both of you dissolving into laughter again.

"Let me guess, another text from 'Max Verstappen'?" your dad teases from his spot at the kitchen counter, making air quotes with his fingers. He's wearing one of his many Red Bull Racing shirts, completely oblivious to the irony.

"Actually, yes," you reply, rolling your eyes. "He'll be here soon."

Your mom chuckles while peeling potatoes. "Honey, you can just tell us who your boyfriend really is. We won't judge, even if he's not a Formula 1 champion."

"Mom, I've told you a million times-"

"LOOK!" Ruby crashes into the kitchen, pointing at the TV in the living room where they're showing highlights from the last race. "It's YN's boyfriend!" She dissolves into giggles, clearly in on what she thinks is a funny joke.

"Very funny, Rubes," you mutter, but check your phone again when it buzzes.

Max: "Just turned onto your street. Nice neighborhood 😉"

Your heart starts beating faster. "He's here," you announce, heading toward the front door.

"Oh, we're still doing this?" your dad calls after you, amused. "Should I get my Max Verstappen cap for him to sign?"

"Actually, Dad, yes, you should," you shout back, slipping on your boots.

"Sweetie," your mom starts in that gentle voice she uses when she thinks you're being ridiculous, "you don't have to-"

The sound of a car pulling up interrupts her. You open the front door and step out onto the porch, watching as Max's car comes to a stop in your driveway. Your family has crowded behind you in the doorway, probably expecting to catch you in your "lie."

Max steps out of the car, looking unfairly handsome in his dark winter coat and scarf. His face lights up when he sees you, and you don't hesitate to run down the steps toward him.

"Hi," he grins, catching you in a tight hug and lifting you slightly off your feet. "Missed you."

You hear a loud gasp behind you, followed by what sounds like your dad choking on air.

"Missed you too," you murmur against his chest before turning to face your family, keeping one arm wrapped around his waist.

The scene on your front porch is priceless. Your dad's mouth is hanging open, his face pale except for two bright red spots on his cheeks. Your mom has both hands pressed to her face in shock. Ruby is the only one moving, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"IT REALLY IS THE FAST CAR MAN!" she shrieks, breaking the silence as she barrels down the steps toward you both.

Max laughs, crouching down to her level. "Hi Ruby. Nice to finally meet you. Your sister has told me a lot about you."

"You're real!" she exclaims, poking his arm as if to make sure.

"Very real," he confirms, looking thoroughly amused.

"I… you… but…" your dad stammers, still frozen in the doorway.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. LN," Max says, standing back up and guiding you and Ruby toward the porch. "Thank you for having me for Christmas."

Your mom seems to snap out of her shock first. "Oh my goodness, please come in! It's freezing out here. I… oh dear… the potatoes… I should… more food… I need to…"

"Mom, breathe," you laugh, as Max follows you inside.

Your dad hasn't moved an inch, still staring at Max like he's seeing a ghost. "You're… you're actually… the Brazil overtake…"

"Dad, no F1 talk yet!" you warn. "Let him at least get his coat off first."

"Right! Yes! Coat!" your dad says frantically. "I'll take your coat! And then maybe… could you… would you mind signing my…"

"Collection?" you finish for him, smirking. "The one you thought I was making up?"

Max raises his eyebrows at you, remembering your conversation about your dad's merchandise collection.

Ruby tugs on Max's hand. "Do you want to see my Frozen dolls? And can we watch the movie? Sissy said you've never seen it!"

"Ruby, let him settle in first," your mom calls from the kitchen, where she appears to be panic-cooking. "Oh God, is the food good enough? Do Formula 1 drivers have special diets? Should I-"

"Mom, the food will be perfect," you assure her, then turn to Max. "See? I told you they'd be cool about it."

Max tries to suppress his laugh as your dad continues to stare at him in awe, your mom stress-cooks enough food to feed an army, and Ruby continues pulling on his hand.

"Very cool," he agrees, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Though I think your dad might need to sit down."

"I'm fine!" your dad squeaks, then immediately sits down heavily on the nearest chair. "Just… just give me a minute to process that my daughter is actually dating Max Verstappen and I've been accidentally talking about my future son-in-law during every race and-"

"DAD!" you exclaim, feeling your face heat up while Max chuckles beside you.

"What? I'm just saying… all those times I said 'that Verstappen boy would make someone a good husband someday' and it turns out-"

"Okay!" you interrupt loudly. "Who wants coffee? Max, come help me with coffee!"

As you drag a laughing Max toward the kitchen, you hear Ruby start explaining the entire plot of Frozen to him, your mom muttering about needing to buy more food, and your dad still talking to himself about racing statistics.

"Still think this was a good idea?" you whisper to Max.

He pulls you closer, grinning. "The best. Though you might want to tell your dad to breathe before he passes out."

"Can we build a snowman after coffee?" Ruby calls out.

"Only if Max gets to be Elsa!" you shout back, earning you a playful glare from your boyfriend.

Looking around at your slightly chaotic but loving family, and seeing how naturally Max fits into it all, you can't help but smile. This is definitely going to be a Christmas to remember.

The initial chaos has settled into a cozy scene in your living room. You're curled up on the couch next to Max, who has Ruby practically attached to his side. She hasn't stopped talking since everyone sat down, and Max, to his credit, is giving her his complete attention.

"And then Elsa makes this huge ice castle," Ruby explains, using elaborate hand gestures. "Can you drive as fast as Elsa runs up the mountain?"

"Probably faster," Max answers with a grin, making Ruby's eyes widen.

"Even in the snow?"

"Even in the snow."

Your dad, who's finally regained his ability to form complete sentences, sits in his armchair trying very hard not to bombard Max with racing questions. He keeps opening his mouth, then closing it again when you give him a warning look.

"It's okay, Dad," you laugh. "You can ask him one race question. Just one."

Your dad looks like he might cry from happiness. "The overtake in Brazil-"

"Which one?" Max asks with a playful smirk, and your dad launches into an enthusiastic discussion about racing lines and grip levels.

Your mom returns from the kitchen with a tray of hot chocolate and cookies, having finally accepted that she doesn't need to cook enough food for an entire F1 paddock. "Here we go. I hope it's okay, Max. YN mentioned you like hot chocolate."

"It's perfect, thank you," Max says warmly, accepting a mug.

Ruby immediately reaches for a cookie, then pauses. "Do race car drivers eat cookies?"

"Only the fast ones," Max whispers conspiratorially, making her giggle.

"Ruby, give Max some space to breathe," your mom says gently, noticing how your sister is practically in his lap.

"It's fine," Max assures her. "I have nephews. I'm used to it."

Ruby beams at this information. "Really? Do they like Frozen too?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure they'd love to hear your explanation of it," he says, and Ruby launches into another detailed plot summary.

You catch your mom watching the interaction with soft eyes, all her earlier panic forgotten. She meets your gaze and mouths 'He's wonderful' when Ruby isn't looking.

Your dad has moved on from Brazil to discussing tire strategies, but stops himself mid-sentence. "Sorry, I'm probably boring you. You live this stuff."

"Not at all," Max says sincerely. "It's nice talking about it with someone who understands racing. YN usually just tells me to stop being a nerd when I talk about tire compounds."

"Because you spent two hours explaining the difference between C3 and C4 compounds!" you defend yourself.

"It's fascinating stuff," your dad says eagerly, and Max nods in agreement.

"Oh no, there's two of them now," you mutter to your mom, who laughs.

Ruby tugs on Max's sleeve. "Can we watch Frozen now? Please? You promised!"

"Ruby, let Max rest a bit," your mom starts, but Max shakes his head.

"A promise is a promise," he says solemnly to Ruby. "Should we watch it now?"

Ruby squeals with delight, jumping up to get the remote. Your dad looks slightly disappointed that his racing talk is being cut short, but you can see him hiding a smile at Ruby's excitement.

"Fair warning," you whisper to Max as Ruby sets up the movie, "she knows every word. And she will sing along."

"As long as she doesn't expect me to sing," he whispers back.

"MAX!" Ruby calls, patting the spot next to her on the floor where she's arranged pillows. "You have to sit here! It's the best spot!"

Max obliges, settling down next to her while you stay on the couch, exchanging amused looks with your parents as Ruby starts the movie, already mouthing along to the opening music.

Your mom leans over to you. "I'm sorry we didn't believe you," she whispers. "He's lovely. And so good with Ruby."

"I told you," you whisper back, watching as Ruby explains to Max why Elsa has ice powers.

Your dad joins in the whispered conversation. "Think he'd sign my mug collection later?"

"Dad!"

"What? I'm just saying, Christmas cards would be sorted for the next few years…"

You're about to respond when Ruby shushes you all loudly. "This is the best part!"

Max catches your eye and winks, clearly enjoying himself despite being roped into a Disney movie viewing with a very enthusiastic seven-year-old commentator. Your heart swells watching him with your family, how naturally he fits in, how gentle he is with Ruby.

"Do you want to build a snowman?" Ruby starts singing along with the movie.

"Later, Rubes," you promise. "Let's watch the movie first."

She nods seriously, then turns to Max. "Pay attention to this part. It's very important."

"I won't miss a second," he promises, and Ruby beams at him before turning back to the screen.

Your mom reaches over and squeezes your hand, giving you a knowing look. Even your dad has stopped thinking about racing long enough to appreciate the moment – his youngest daughter sharing her favorite movie with your boyfriend, who happens to be the F1 driver he's been fan-boying over for years.

It's perfect, you think, watching your family and Max together. Different from how you imagined telling them, but perfect nonetheless.

"Shh!" Ruby whispers loudly. "Elsa is about to sing Let It Go!"

Max shoots you a slightly panicked look as Ruby starts to stand up, clearly ready to perform the whole number. You just grin and shrug. After all, you did warn him about the singing.

Later that evening, you finally manage to steal a moment alone with Max. Ruby had fallen asleep during the third replay of Frozen, and your parents took her up to bed before retreating to the kitchen to finish some Christmas preparations.

You find Max on the back porch, leaning against the railing and looking up at the stars. The winter air is crisp, and you can see his breath forming little clouds in the darkness. Quietly, you step out and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his back.

"Hey," he says softly, turning in your arms to face you. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer. "Needed a little break from being Elsa?"

You laugh quietly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "You were amazing with Ruby today. I think you're officially her new favorite person."

"She's a sweet kid," he smiles, then adds with a playful glint in his eyes, "Though I didn't expect to watch Frozen two times in one day."

"Just wait until tomorrow. She'll probably want to act it out."

He groans dramatically, but you can see the fondness in his expression. "The things I do for you."

"Mmm, and I appreciate every one of them," you murmur, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him softly.

Max responds immediately, one hand moving to cup your face while the other pulls you even closer. The kiss is gentle and unhurried, full of unspoken emotions. When you finally pull back, he rests his forehead against yours.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"For what?"

"For being so perfect with my family. For watching Frozen multiple times. For not running away when my dad started his racing commentary."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. "I like your family. Your dad's racing knowledge is impressive, your mom's trying very hard not to mother me to death, and Ruby…" he pauses, smiling. "Ruby reminds me of Victoria at that age."

You snuggle closer, seeking his warmth in the cold air. "I was so nervous about telling them, and then even more nervous when they didn't believe me. But this… this is better than I imagined."

"Even with your dad asking me to sign his entire Red Bull merchandise collection?"

"Hey, at least he waited until after dinner," you laugh. "Though I'm pretty sure he's in there right now planning which items to bring out first."

Max wraps his arms more securely around you, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I love you," he says quietly, and your heart skips a beat like it does every time he says those words.

"I love you too," you reply, tilting your face up for another kiss.

This one is deeper, more passionate, until you hear the back door creak and quickly step apart.

"Oh!" your mom exclaims, looking flustered. "Sorry, I just… wanted to ask about breakfast preferences… but it can wait… carry on!"

She disappears back inside, and you both burst into quiet laughter.

"We should probably go back in," you sigh, though you make no move to leave his embrace.

"Probably," he agrees, but instead of letting go, he pulls you back for one more kiss. "Five more minutes?"

You smile against his lips. "Five more minutes."

In the quiet of Christmas eve, wrapped in each other's arms, you can't help but think how perfectly he fits into your life, into your family, into your heart. Tomorrow there'll be more Frozen, more racing talk, more of Ruby's endless questions, but right now, it's just the two of you, and it's everything.

The winter sun is just beginning to peek through the curtains of your childhood bedroom, casting a soft golden glow across the room. You're wrapped in warmth, nestled against Max's chest with his arm draped around your waist. His steady breathing tells you he's awake before he even moves.

"Good morning," he murmurs against your neck, his voice still rough with sleep. His lips brush against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Morning," you whisper back, feeling his hand slowly slide beneath your sleep shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"Sleep well?" he asks innocently, but his actions are anything but innocent as he presses closer, leaving a trail of kisses from your shoulder to your ear.

"Max," you breathe, caught between wanting to lean into his touch and knowing you should stop. "We can't… my parents…"

"Then we'll have to be very, very quiet," he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. His hand travels higher under your shirt, making your breath hitch.

You turn in his arms, ready to either give in or properly protest - though the way he's looking at you, eyes dark with desire and that signature smirk playing on his lips, makes you lean heavily toward the former.

"You're trouble," you murmur, reaching up to run your fingers through his disheveled hair.

He leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. "You love it."

Just as his hand starts to wander again, a voice pierces through the quiet morning:

"IT'S CHRISTMAAAAS!" Ruby's excited scream echoes through the entire house, followed by the thundering of small feet running down the hallway. "WAKE UP! WAKE UP! SANTA CAME!"

Max drops his forehead to your shoulder with a frustrated groan. "Your sister has impeccable timing."

"Welcome to Christmas with Ruby," you laugh, pressing a consoling kiss to his cheek. "I tried to warn you."

"YN! MAX!" Ruby's fists pound on your door. "GET UP! There are presents EVERYWHERE! And it SNOWED!"

"Five more minutes, Rubes!" you call back.

"NO MINUTES! NOW!" she insists, continuing to knock. "Mom said breakfast is ready and Dad made hot chocolate and I SAW A HUGE PRESENT WITH MY NAME ON IT!"

Max chuckles against your shoulder. "I suppose we should…"

"PLEASE!" Ruby calls again. "I promise I'll let you drink your coffee first!"

"That's quite the offer from her," you tell Max. "She usually doesn't allow any delays on Christmas morning."

"We're coming, Ruby!" Max calls out, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "Give us two minutes to get dressed."

"TWO MINUTES! I'm counting!"

You can hear her dramatically counting down in the hallway, making Max laugh. "She's serious about this, isn't she?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

The living room is a festival of color and chaos when you finally make it downstairs. Ruby's bouncing by the tree in her Christmas pajamas, while your parents are settled on the couch with steaming mugs of coffee.

"Finally!" Ruby exclaims. "I counted way past two minutes!"

"Sorry, princess," Max says, accepting a coffee mug from your mom. "But I'm here now."

"Max, sweetheart, you really didn't have to get us anything," your mom says, noticing the pile of presents he'd arranged under the tree last night.

"Of course I did," he replies warmly. "It's Christmas."

Ruby's practically vibrating with excitement as your dad starts distributing gifts. "Can I open mine from Max first? Please?"

At your nod, she tears into the elaborate wrapping paper, gasping when she reveals a beautiful wooden chest with golden details. "It's like a treasure chest!"

"Open it," Max encourages, smiling.

Ruby lifts the lid carefully, her eyes widening. Inside is a complete collection of princess dresses, each one a perfect replica from different Disney movies, along with matching accessories and a tiara for each one.

"The chest is magical," Max explains, kneeling beside her. "Every time you open it, there might be a new surprise inside. And look at this…" He reaches in and pulls out a small envelope.

Ruby opens it to find a letter with the Disney castle letterhead. "Dear Princess Ruby," she reads aloud, her voice getting more excited with each word. "You are cordially invited to spend a royal weekend at Disney World, where you will have a private breakfast with all the Disney princesses…"

She doesn't even finish reading before launching herself at Max, nearly knocking him over. "Thank you thank you thank you! Can I try on the Elsa dress right now?"

"After presents," your mom laughs. "Let's see what else Santa brought."

Your dad opens his gift next, finding an envelope that makes him pause. "Son," he says, voice thick with emotion as he reads the contents. "This is…"

"VIP passes to the British Grand Prix," Max confirms. "Including garage access, grid walk, everything."

Your dad has to sit down, clutching the passes like they might disappear. "This is… I can't…"

"And this," Max hands him another package, "is just a little something extra."

Inside is a vintage racing jacket from your dad's favorite driver from the 80s, signed and authenticated. Your dad actually tears up.

Your mom opens her gift next, despite protesting again that Max shouldn't have gotten them anything. She unwraps a beautiful pair of earrings.

"Oh, Max," she whispers, "This is beautiful."

Ruby, who has been surprisingly patient, tugs at Max's sleeve. "Can we do my princess breakfast now?"

"After we finish presents," you laugh. "And maybe we should have real breakfast first?"

"But I'm a princess now," she declares. "Princesses have special breakfast times."

Your mom shakes her head fondly. "How about pancakes fit for a princess?"

"With chocolate chips?" Ruby negotiates.

"With chocolate chips," your mom confirms. "Max, honey, how do you like your pancakes?"

"However they're made is perfect," he assures her, but your mom is already heading to the kitchen, muttering about making sure she has enough chocolate chips.

Your dad finally finds his voice again. "Max, this is too much…"

"It's not," Max says firmly. "You're… you're family now. Or at least, I hope…"

He glances at you meaningfully, making your heart skip a beat.

Later, after pancakes and multiple princess dress changes from Ruby, you manage to steal some time alone with Max in your favorite spot on the back porch. The morning sun has warmed the air slightly, but there's still a crisp winter chill that gives you an excuse to stay close to him.

"Your turn," Max says softly, pulling out a small wrapped box from his pocket.

Your hands tremble slightly as you unwrap it, revealing a velvet jewelry box. Inside is a delicate silver necklace with two intertwined pendants - a heart and a tiny racing helmet.

"Max," you breathe, touching the pendants gently. "It's beautiful."

"Look at the back," he says quietly, his voice carrying a note of nervousness you rarely hear.

You turn the heart over to find an engraving: "You're my biggest victory. -MV"

"I love you," you whisper, pulling him down for a kiss. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as if you're the most precious thing in his world.

When you finally part, you hand him your gift - a wrapped box that makes him raise his eyebrows at the weight.

Inside, he finds a handmade scrapbook filled with your personal moments - sneaky paddock kisses, quiet mornings at home, victory celebrations, and candid moments no one else has seen. The final page holds a photo from yesterday - Max on the floor with Ruby, both laughing during their third viewing of Frozen.

"This is…" he starts, voice thick with emotion.

"Wait," you say softly, reaching into your pocket. You pull out a key on a simple keychain. "I thought… maybe… if you wanted…"

"Move in with you?" he finishes, breaking into that brilliant smile that never fails to make your heart race. "Yes. Absolutely yes."

He pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other holds the key carefully.

"MAX!" Ruby's voice carries from inside. "I need help with my Cinderella shoes! And then we have to build a snowman! A FROZEN snowman!"

You both laugh against each other's lips.

"Duty calls, Elsa," you tease.

"Only if you'll be my Olaf," he grins, pressing one more quick kiss to your lips.

"Always," you promise, letting him lead you back inside where Ruby waits, already changed into her third princess dress of the morning.

Your dad catches your eye as you pass, "If you don't marry this boy," he whispers, "I will."

"Dad!"

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, then heads outside to join the snowman-building committee.

Your mom appears at your other side, wrapping an arm around you. "He's right, you know. He's perfect for you."

You lean your head on her shoulder, watching Max let Ruby direct him on where to place the snowman's arms. "I know," you smile. "I know."

"Best Christmas ever?" she asks softly.

Looking at your family, and Max in the middle of it all, belonging there like he's always been part of it - you smile.

"Best Christmas ever," you agree.

[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember Day 24: Nuru Massage

Eunbi booba make brain go brr. Now imagine her oiled up... brain go boom.

Length 1.6K

Eunbi X Mreader

You look at the sign hanging above you, “Nuru Massage.” You must have considered walking in here a hundred times, but each time, you decided against it. This time, though, you were going to go in. You wanted to see what it was all about, and after doing your research, you felt pretty confident it would be enjoyable, at the very least. “Welcome! How can I help you today?” You hear shouted at you from behind the counter the moment you walk in.

You look at the board behind the lady, noting times and prices available. “I’d like a massage, one of your hour sessions, please,” you say, pointing at the board. 

“An hour session? Alright, just follow me, and we’ll get you started soon.” The woman behind the counter leads you down the hall to a room at the very end. “She’ll be here very soon. You just get ready; there’s a basket for you to put your clothes in.” The woman shuts the door; you spend a minute looking around the bare room before beginning to take off your clothes. Just as you finish putting the last piece of clothing in the basket, the door to your room opens. Taking a step inside is a young woman in a thin white bikini.

“Hello, my name is Eunbi. I’ll be performing this massage for you.” She says with a bow. You stare at her cleavage, her large, weighty breasts immediately getting your attention. “What is your name, sir?” She asks while preparing herself and the room a little more. Eunbi presses a button, and you watch as an air mat inflates in the room's corner. “What is your name?” Eunbi asks again. You respond this time just as the mat is finished inflating. “Please lay down on the mat. I’ll be right over.”

You walk over to the mat and lie down only a few inches off the floor. You stare at the beautiful woman’s backside as she finishes her preparations and walks over to you. “As you know, this is a Nuru massage; we have a special blend of oil we use here,” Eunbi informs you, raising a bottle. “This is what I’ll be using today. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll begin your massage,”

Eunbi lifted the bottle, drizzling the oil over her body. She rubbed the liquid into her skin as she continued to cover herself. The bikini top Eunbi wore became saturated with the oil and turned translucent. Her nipple was visible, but that didn’t bother the young woman; it was a part of the job. Eunbi kept her smile on you as she put the bottle down and spread the oil over the rest of her body. You kept your eyes on Eunbi’s body, watching as it glistened. You got hard immediately; it made Eunbi blush. She crawled onto the mat, her tits hanging over your cock. Eunbi cocks her head to the side, a playful smile on her face as she lowers herself and her breasts rub against your cock, coating it in the oil as she presses her breasts together. You groan, enjoying the feeling of Eunbi’s soft tits slipping around your cock. 

Eunbi giggled but focused on her massage, moving over to your legs. She did the left first, pouring some oil along it before pressing her body against it and sliding up and down it. You could feel her breasts against your thigh as she moved along your body. Eunbi slowed down, moving onto your thigh and sitting on it. Eunbi softly moaned as she rode your thigh, her hips rocking back and forth. Listening to Eunbi’s moans made your cock throb; you desperately wanted to fuck her. The bikini she wore was utterly see-through now. 

Eunbi seemed to notice, too. She looked down and untied her top, tossing it to the side; she followed suit with her panties. You gulped as you saw her bare body in all its glory. Sure, the bikini wasn’t hiding anything in the end, but the look now was awe-inspiring. 

The young woman switched legs, coating the other in oil before riding it. You stare at Eunbi’s tits move as she rides your leg. “Is this to your liking, sir?”

“Yes, it feels nice.” 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Eunbi says as she comes to a stop, and moves upward, dragging her tits along your stomach before stopping at your chest. You’re eye to eye with Eunbi. She smiles at you. Eunbi moves to the side, placing your arm between her tits. When she’s near your shoulder, you can almost touch her slit, and Eunbi can feel your hand try to reach it. She always moves down your arm just before you can. At the very least, she compensated you by letting you grope her breasts when she was by your hand. You squeezed her weighty breasts; their softness was otherworldly. When you found her nipple, you rolled it between your fingers, making the young woman moan as she moved up and stretched it taut before finally letting go. The process repeats when Eunbi moves to your other arm. As you toy with each other, Eunbi slowly moves herself on top of you, her chest rubbing against yours. 

She leans down and kisses you, “I think I love you.” She says it suddenly, but it’s a rehearsed line. Of course, sex wouldn’t be allowed in a place like this, but if the masseuse and customer happened to fall in love, then it would be fine. It was a little loophole to skirt the law. You follow along, telling Eunbi you love her too as you place your hands at her waist. The young woman giggles, placing her hands on your chest before sitting up and straddling you. She takes your hands, putting them on the tits she knew you couldn’t get enough of. 

You were more than happy to have your hands on them again, immediately squeezing the soft mounds and making her coo. “Such a naughty boy,” Eunbi moaned. The young masseuse lifted herself, grabbing your cock and placing it between your bodies, grinding against it while you played with her tits. You pushed them together, lifted them, and watched them bounce as you dropped them. The look on your face entertained Eunbi and let you continue before eventually wanting to move on. She rose slowly and placed you against her cunt, lowering herself onto your cunt. She groaned as she felt your cock fill her pussy.

As she lowered herself, you unconsciously squeezed her tits roughly, making her moan as she took the entire thing inside her. Eunbi places her hands on your chest, leaning over you as she catches her breath. You let go of her breasts and watch them hang inches from your face. The temptation is too great, and you lean in and take one into your mouth. Eunbi shivers as you begin to swirl your tongue around her nipple. The pleasure only becomes greater as you grab her waist and begin to thrust. “W-wait,” Eunbi moans, the influx of pleasure making her weak. It was hard to hold onto Eunbi; her slick body made your hands move up anytime she bounced on your cock. It also made it hard to stay connected to her breasts. You eventually gave up on that effort and just enjoyed the feeling of your cock in her snug cunt, watching as Eunbi’s tits bounced in front of you.

Eunbi shut her eyes and moaned, enjoying as your cock wet deep into her cunt. Soon, you get into a rhythm, moving your hands along Eunbi’s body as you thrust, squeezing her soft flesh and making her moan. She cranes her neck as she bounces on your cock; seeing her so vulnerable fueled your desire for the young woman. You sat up and ran a hand down Eunbi’s back as you kissed her neck. “Ah, I’m going to cum,” Eunbi whined, her walls tightening around your cock. “You c-can’t cum inside,” Eunbi continued. 

You felt disappointed that she didn’t want you to cum inside her, but something told you could get something better if you followed along. You push Eunbi onto her back and continue your thrusting. You lean over and kiss her, holding onto one of her tits as you slide your cock in and out of her tight cunt. Eunbi’s whines continue to grow louder until she finally cums, her cunt clamping down on your cock, nearly making you cum. 

You manage to pull out at the last second and paint Eunbi’s stomach with your semen—the young woman softly moans as she feels her stomach have cum splattered on it. She breathes heavily, a small smirk on her face as she scoops some of your cum and eats it. “Did you enjoy your massage?” Eunbi asks, out of breath. You nod, feeling very relaxed. “Thank you for not cumming inside. If you ever come back, I’d be more than happy to treat you to a different massage, something much tighter. Your cock begins to twitch at the idea she’s presenting. Eunbi notices your cock twitching, “I guess you understand.”

Eunbi grabs your hand, leading you to the room’s shower, where she washes the oil off you, using her body on you one last time before your visit ends. You pay the woman at the front and leave the massage place, feeling happy that you went in and excited at the chance to have more fun with Eunbi. You imagine what the next experience will be like with Eunbi face down and her ass raised in the air.

[amaranthinespirit]

professor!simon riley ruining his goody-two shoes student cw: teacher-student relationship (all parties are of age) inspired by this post from @ebodebo

you were a good student, an eager to please college attendee that most people couldn't stand. studious and stupidly-smart, studies wise anyway.

most of your teachers liked you. how could they not? you reached the bar in their class, hell, you even raised it. but that couldn't be said about every class you took. you had this one professor who couldn't stand you, and you couldn't either.

professor riley was lazy in your eyes, he didn't give you, the class, enough, whether it was in terms of school work or personality, the daunting man was an enigma, and the epitome of gloom. perhaps he was suppressed with melancholy, but that wasn't your issue to deal with, you just wanted him to give a damn.

but maybe lazy wasn't the right word to label him as because he certainly wasn't, in terms of physique anyway. you shook your head at the thought, disgust crossing your face whenever you caught yourself thinking as such.

he wasn't lazy, professor riley knew his stuff, but you always had to do extra studying outside of his class to even understand the material. it was like you were teaching yourself, and that was not an easy feat.

it also didn't help that when you got one of your exams handed back to you, your eyes were sparked with anticipation as the paper landed on your desk, you couldn't wait to see-

a 69%?

how could this be? you studied meticulously for hours, combing through all the material you were sure was going on the test, but you got a 'd'?

your face was knit with confusion, brows furrowed deeply as you flipped through the pages. every single question marked right, did professor riley suffer from amnesia before grading your test? or rather, when putting the mark on the front page?

you were fuming, glaring up to see that wicked smirk pulling at his lips as your eyes locked. you felt more than petty loathing, more than just not standing him.

it was later, classes are out and no students lingered in the building, but professor riley's office hours remained open, and now you took advantage of it. you grasped your wrongfully marked exam tightly in your fist, creasing the paper under your palm as you stomped into his room.

there he sat, in the dark with only a dim lamp, hunched over his desk grading more papers, wrongfully marking them most likely. he heard the heavy footsteps and the echo that followed you, glancing up at you, a ghost of a smile cursing his lips.

he leaned back in his office chair, the hinges squeaking under his weight as he set down his fancy fountain pen, "evenin', unusual t'see ya durin' m'office hours, what can I do f'ya?" his voice was gruff, heavy with exhaustion and eyes in need of sleep as they trailed over your flushed face.

your body was flushed and radiated heat, chest slightly heaving from the walk over. it didn't help with his gaze on your figure, eyes basically scrutinizing you as you stood in front of his teacher's desk, "sir, i'd like to talk to you about the exam," you spoke through gritted teeth, looking down at him as you swallowed thickly.

you were looking for answers because certainly you found the right ones on your test, but for some reason, he fucked you over. but with the way his eyes seemed to linger, maybe he was looking for more.

though his eyes lit up in realization, a grin breaking out onto his lips as he hummed lowly, looking you over, "ah, yes, was there a specific question y'were lookin' to-"

before he could finish, you slammed the test down onto his desk, the bright red pen that displayed the grade glaring up at him. you acted without thinking, impulsive and brass.

your voice was raised, without a doubt, angry and hostile, "more like the whole damn test, a 68 percent?" you took a deep breath, chest heaving as you cross your arms against it, "i know i did better than a 'd', sir."

he merely scoffed, he couldn't believe the audacity you had to speak to your professor like that. he glanced down at the test before looking back up at you, his eyes betraying no emotion, not a hint of sympathy or kindness behind the amber of his iris, "yeah, y'did." he answered simply.

you looked to him with further confusion, eyes widening ever so slightly, "so why is my grade so low?"

"felt like you needed it." he shrugged it off so casually, it made your blood boil. his audacity to mark your test so low because he felt like it? no, no, felt like you needed it?

you scoffed in disbelief, taking a step towards his desk, "riley-"

he cut you off in correction, "professor. riley." he paused between the two simple words, heavy emphasis. you wouldn't let him see the falter in your expression at his firm correction show how his tone made your stomach twist and thighs clench.

"professor riley," you adhered to his corrections as you took another breath to calm yourself from more than just anger, eyes fluttering shut momentarily. "it's not fair! you can't just give me a bad grade because you feel like it!"

he watched as you raised your hands as you spoke, slapping back down to your thighs as his gaze followed your gestures, lingering at the bare skin of your legs.

you gulped at his heavy gaze, feeling your skin crawl where his eyes seem to linger, goosebumps rising along your even skin. he seemed to notice the way your thighs clenched together, your stiff posture uncomfortable and awkward, fingers flexing at your side.

"but I did, so what do you plan to do about it?" he cocks his head to the side, a silent challenge to you as your eyes narrow. he can't deny that you irk him, such a pretty little thing practically begging for validation, validation he didn't want to give you. he also can't deny the way he fucks his fat cock into his fist, aching and throbbing angrily at the thought of you.

before you can answer his question, he asks another, "d'you touch yer'self thinkin' abo'me, love?" his tone is sly like he's got the upper hand as he leans back casually, elbow propped on his desk.

the question stuns you, renders your english useless as your jaw falls open, looking at him in silence as you can do nothing but stutter hopelessly. though, you can't deny the subtle flutter of your pussy in your lacy underwear, clenching around nothing as slick drools from your slit.

the question grinds the gears in your head, puts you back to the many late nights with your fingers plunging into your drenched cunt, small fingers, imagining they were his lengthy, thick digits, only barely managing to graze that spongy spot deep in your pussy. his name, full of loathe, falling from your lips in a soft mewl as you cum, release coating your skin.

he merely chuckles at your stutters and zoned out gaze, "guess that answers it," his shoulders shake with his huffs of laughs that he disguised as unevens breath, "you're a good student, y'know that? surely, ya do, swee'eart, or ya wouldn't be 'ere."

neither of you speak for a second after his words, letting them hang in the air as it grows thick with tension, tension that's built up since the first day of classes. unbeknownst to each other, you'd been getting off to the idea of one another for weeks, channeling your hatred into self pleasure in a form of denial.

it's weird to finger yourself to the idea of your professor, but he's hot! he's tall, brooding and tatted with a thick accent, not to mention smart. but gross, he's your professor! decades older than you, surely, and not interested in a girl like you, his student, no less.

the tension further mounts, and he decides to speak up when he realizes you aren't going to say anything, still too stunned, "tell ya what, y'can earn yer grade back by givin' me a nice blo'job."

his words are blunt, turning your throat dry, but also making you salivate at the thought, your eyes subconsciously trailing down his button-up shirt down to his slacks. you gulp at the tightness that seems to pull at the material, bulging slightly at the seams.

you don't know what to say. you should say no, and you have no clue why you hadn't yet, why you hadn't turned and ran out the door at such disgusting words leaving your teacher's mouth, but you can't help but feel excited at the thought, oh it's so wrong, but so exhilarating.

still, you can't find the courage to accept the offer, no matter how much you wanted to raise your grade, so you stumble nervously over your words, "sir, I don't know-"

"you're such a goody-two shoes, no?" he asks, eyebrows lifted in confusion. you wouldn't call yourself a goody-two shoes if it was up to you, but you knew that's how others see you, and so does he. "so be a good girl and get on your knees," he finishes, big, veined hands slowly moving to his belt, unclasping it.

the sound fills the empty class, and suddenly your heart's in your throat, and your body's moving on its own. why are you listening to him? do you seriously crave validation so much? from your professor, no less.

"atta'girl," he cooed, gathering your hair in his large hand, wrapping the strands around his palm as he held your head firmly in front of him. he watches your nervous gaze, pretty doe eyes staring up at him with uncertainty. god, you really needed him to guide you, fuelled by guidance and praise. "put yer hands on'me, swee'eart."

your dainty hands slid up onto his knees, fingers drumming against his lower thigh in an anxious outlet. though, despite your uncertainty, you seemed to be guided by adrenaline, going off the hours of teacher-student porn you watched alone in your dorm room when your dorm mate was out.

tracing along the inner seams of his dark trousers, until you reached his crotch. you felt the way he twitched through the fabric at your unsure, naive touch, his bulge tightly straining against his pants.

you felt more confident the more you touched him, especially as his breaths started to get more laboured the higher up you touched and teased him, priding welling up in your chest that only encouraged you further. a sweet smirk on your face as you slowly unzipped his trousers, freeing him from the confines of the tight fabric.

you salivated at the sight, subconsciously biting your lip as you eyed the thick veins that decorated his pretty, pink cock. the sticky pre that coated his boxers, leaking and oozing from his angry tip. he was hard, and hung.

he chuckled breathlessly as the way your throat bobbed, no doubt a nervous gulp traveling down your esophagus as you eyed the size of him. you weren't even sure you could fit your lips around him, much less your weeping pussy that gushed at the sight.

"c'mon, love, 's not a starin' contest, is't?" he joked with a breathy huff, a rough finger caressing your cheek as he eased your gaze away from his engorged cock and back to his honey irises, "tha's betta', baby, keep lookin' a'me with those pre'ty eyes."

your fingers were tentative, sharp fingernails tracing his veins, pupils growing at the sharp inhale he sucked in through his teeth as you studied his cock. he loved your eyes on him, feeding into his ego as if it wasn't big already, gaining silent validation from a girl that fed on academic praise.

and the fact that your fingertips barely met when you wrapped your slender fingers around his thick cock, his self esteem growing exponentially at the sight and blood further rushed down south.

he groaned at your amateur movements, wrist stiff as your smooth palm felt a bit abrasive against his sensitive cock. god, you were so unpracticed and nervous, he just had to guide you, "spit on y'r hand, yeah, good girl," he cooed, his thumb careeming your bottom lip, spreading your saliva across the plush pink.

he couldn't help the satisfied hum at your now slick movements, the way your thumb caught the tip of his angry cock, smearing pre along the spongy head. his head thrown back at the tentative taste you took with your pretty tongue, not missing the small contortion of your features at the salty taste. if he knew he would get you on your knees for him, he would've eaten sweet fruits in advance.

but now he knows for the future, he'll keep his fridge stocked, and maybe slip you a few smoothies to make you that pinch more sweet for when he does get a taste of what's between your thighs.

you were sure you were doing a terrible job, no way any guy would be satisfied with the uneven strokes of your tongue on the underside of his cock, but regardless, professor riley praised endlessly, "yeah, tha'sit, baby," he tugged you closer, causing your lips to wrap around his girth snuggly.

you tried doing what you had seen in porn, but then again, you were too busy imagining the main guy as your professor that now had his cock stuffed in your mouth.

it was embarrassing, downright humiliating because it was so glaringly obvious that you were trying to please him, movements hasty and unnatural as you furthered down on his lengthy dick.

his cock inched further in your mouth, his spongy tip punching the back of your throat all too quickly. it caused tears to brim your eyes and you clenched them shut, sputtering on him as spit pooled from your lips. he pulled you gently back from his dick by your hair, noticing how you'd just frozen up when you couldn't breath with his dick shoved down your throat.

he shushed you, cooing softly as he wiped a wad of saliva that bubbled at your lips, smearing it on your skin as it connected in a string back to him, "know my office 'ours don't last al'night, but surely, 's not'a race, yeah?" he cocks his head to the side, watching your bashful expression as you catch your breath, cheeks flushed and red, "take y'r time, baby, if 's too much, we'll revisit another time, hm?"

you swallow thickly. you didn't want to revisit this another time, you wanted it now. you had fantasized about him for months, even when you convinced yourself you were sick in the head for liking him. since the moment you caught a glance of him, he hadn't left your thoughts, merely convinced it was a behavior that sprung from loathing.

it didn't help that when you first locked eyes, you went back to your dorm and delved your fingers deep in your desperate cunt, clenching around yourself with the thought that they were his fingers instead of your dainty ones.

you just glared up at him indifferently, convinced you could handle it in any semblance of dignity, that you knew what you were doing after all—you didn't, but he didn't need to know. he did though.

he just barked out a harsh laugh, shoulders shaking as he shook his head. it made you want to recoil into a shell, like a hermit, or a turtle, somewhere safer than between his meaty thighs and in front of his meaty cock.

"you're so clueless, swee'eart," he calms down, his chest still rising and falling at an elevated pace, "i know ya'want to raise y'r test score, but bein' sloppy 'bout it isn't gonna help, yeah?" he speaks tauntingly, his tone coaxing and smooth.

he continued, "don't y'think a more thorough job will do the trick?" you hate that he's right. you hate that you have you spend any more time between the sanctuary of his toned legs, dusted with light blonde hairs that grew thicker near the base of his cock, though neatly trimmed, a stark contrast to his dark trousers as it sprouts out from beneath the material.

but he is the professor after all, let him teach you, yeah?

you let out a grumble through your lips, a deep frown remaining on your face as you return to his pretty, swollen cock, tentative licks along the veins as you stare into his eyes. you observe the way his lashes flutter, mumbling with your lips pressed to his sensitive skin, "i'll do it how i want." defiant, causing a rise of infuriated irritation to creep under his skin.

he growls. you just had to be a smartass about it. here he was, being so gentle, patient, and kind as well, for even allowing you to make up those 'lost' points, and all you do is bite back as if you don't want him just as much.

you squeak out as he tugs slightly at your hair, fist tightening in the strands. your eyes widen like a deer in headlights. frozen and doe eyed as you stare up at him, indifferent expression wiped from your face as his throbbing cock presses into your cheek. the warmth from his skin seeps into yours, the hand not in your hair holding the base of his dick, slapping it lightly back onto your face.

"be nice, yeah? i'm being s'generous to let y'make up these points in the firs' place," he gives a gentle nod of his head once, his expression firm and eyebrows raised as he studies you, "don't be a brat, doesn't suit you." with a final slap of his cock to your face, he loosens his grip and lets you go back to ministrations, patience returning now that you're back to the sweet and docile student you were a few minutes ago.

he hums pleasantly as you trace your pretty tongue along his veins once again, his calloused hand rough against your cheek as he smeared the saliva left from slapping his cock against your sweet face, rough enough to move and tug your face in different directions.

you just ignore his touches, lavishing on his cock as you kiss up and down his shaft, taking your time before you even attempt to wrap your lips around him again. either way, he seems to be enjoying the view, the tiny glimpse of your thighs twitching causes his to flex on either side of you.

soon, you have your swollen lips back around the tip of his drooling cock, still oozing gooey globes of pearly pre that tasted salty on your tongue. certainly an acquired taste, that is if you end up back between his meaty, muscular thighs, which you try to convince yourself you wouldn't be. this was a one-off thing, for your grades.

you aren't sure how you look in the moment, but you have a feeling you look a mess, hair frizzy, tousled and tangled around his fist, slurping on his cock with lewd sucks as drool drops to the ground with small splats. god, it really is filthy how ruined you already looked, such an innocent thing reduced to a professor-sucking whore.

his eyes stayed locked on yours, his pupils nearly blown completely as his iris is barely visible, replaced with a black void, or maybe his eyes are just that dark. you couldn't tell with your hazy vision staring back. your ears rang, but you didn't miss the way he sounded more desperate, increasingly vocal as you lavished his throbbing cock, reveling in the way it twitched against your pink tongue.

you only whined as he gently bucked his hips up against your face, cock pistoning to the back of your throat with light gags until you felt thick ropes of warm, creamy cum spill inside your throat, forcing you to swallow the salty substance.

it didn't dawn on you that you just gave your professor a blowjob until you pulled off his cock, positively ruined and lips coated thickly in saliva, now being layered with his spend as he rubs his cockhead against your lower lip. you looked frozen in shock at your actions, subconsciously licking the saltiness from your lips as you peered up at him, stroking himself a few more times for good measure, milking his release before storing his now satisfied cock back into his pants.

he just cradled your face after, pulling a handkerchief from one of his drawers to wipe your face and help you stand, cooing with praise as he did so. once you got back to your two feet, he handed over the cloth for you to tidy your appearance with, not taking notice when you slipped it into your back pocket.

your dainty fingers went to the first button of your cutesy blouse, only for embarrassment to creep up onto your face as you watched him shake his head, tsk'ing with a small huff as he spoke, "sorry, office hours ar'over, swee'eart, come see me t'morrow if ya need s'more clarification on yer grades," he pauses, a cocky smirk on his face as he glances up at you, his head tilted downwards now as he turns back to grading papers, "or if ya wan't'do more t'raise it..."

bastard.

[okwonyo]

ℰ SWEET LOVER, ❛ 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝗒 𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂’𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋.

𝖠𝖫𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖭𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖵𝖤𝖫𝖸──── they love you, their wallet loves you too.

( 𝑓𝗍 ) ㅤㅤ𓈒 日语 + fem!r ���𝑛 8OO ⟡​ fluff established relationship 警告 kissing skinship crying ࿁ 𝘮𝑢𝘴𝑒𝘶𝑚

antescriptum. can be read as christmas gifts or not ♥︎

reblogs&feedbacks ૮ ♡◞ ◟ ა click

HEESEUNG ｡｡ spends several weeks running through every beauty stores he knows to find the perfect gift to give you. the man would spend hours on end to find a fragrance that would be ‘perfect for the most perfect girl in world’—as he says to every employee that tries to help him. his world would change to wonderful colors when he finally finds the one. a fragrance that matches your beauty and aura, luxurious and, oh, so beautiful. he gives you the perfume like it’s nothing on chistmas day, even if his hands are sweaty from anticipation.

JONGSEONG ｡｡ gives your gift to you—if you can even call it like that— in the morning. while the sunlight is peaking through the blinds and the winter’s cold can’t get under the covers. “baby,” he calls you softly as you are hidden in his arms. “remind me what is you dream travel again,” he asks gently. while he smiles, you go on a rent about northern italy in the summer, in a big summer house, close to the sea. he hums all along amd when you finish he nuzzles his nose in your hair, “great, because we are doing that this summer, baby.” it takes a while for you to process, but when you do, you get up so fast that you almost feel nauseous… because, what?

⠀ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹙ᵕ ᵕ⠀look under the cut ! ♡

JAEYUN ｡｡ he does get your presents. not only one or two. so much more, as if he bought a gift for you every month of the year to make sure he had something to give to the ones he loves. he gifts your favorite type of clothes, in you favorite colors, from your favorite designer brand. to them, he add expensive bags that you mentioned vaguely over the year. he remembers when and where you said you liked this specific clothing from this one brand— he keeps it’s name in his notes like a secret that is waiting to be shared. and he give these gifts to you with a smile that translates his adoration for you.

SUNGHOON ｡｡ he makes you enter the living room with his hands covering your eyes. “here you go,” he whispers in your ear as he reveals a dozen little blue boxes with bows on them sitting all over the room. there is jewelry in each one of them, each one more beautiful and pricey than the other. then, when your eyes are already watery, in his hands, he offers you a beautiful red box. in it, a darry ring. the one that can be bought only once in a lifetime— a silent promise that you are together for the rest of your lives. he puts the ring on your finger as your tears fall, then he wipe them with his thumb.

SUNOO ｡｡ he knows how much you love to take care of yourself, how good pampering yourself makes you feel, how bad you adore looking beautiful. it is logical that he buys you the best skincare and makeup he can find. he looks at it for months, finding the perfect products for your skin, the one that nourish and make it glow at the same time. he buys you loads of products, because he wants you to have a tons of choices. he takes the bear ones, no matter the price. “your beauty is unmatched,” he tells you. “cannot let any bad products ruin your beautiful face.”

JUGWON ｡｡ listen, at first, he was really thinking of buying you only two or three jellycats. seriously. he didn’t think that he would end up with so much. his heart just knew you too well, it murmured what you would want to your boyfriend. it guided him to the jellycats that you would love— which are every single one of them. and yes, of course, he ended up with the entire collection. you enter your room with jellycats plastered everywhere, covering every single space. you moth fall agape when you see your boyfriend face amongst all of them. “i couldn’t choose, so i took them all,” he defends himself with a grin.

RIKI ｡｡ he loves to play video games witt you. it might be his favorite moment when he comes over, which is everyday because he never really leaves. he adores when you punch him because he is allegedly cheating, when you hug him every time you win and when you have to kiss his cheek because he it is turn to hold victory. his love for those times sits in your heart as well, he knows it, which is why he buys you a nintendo switch. with almost every game you love on it, pretty stickers to put on it and everything that comes with it. the expression on your face is enough to make his entire year.

ᩰ ᩙ𓈒◞ ˕ ◟𓈒ᦡ ’s .. have a wonderful day, luvdolls 🎀 thanks to @soov for the help >3<

𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open。

[jeonginsleftcheek]

surprise!

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

genre: smut, roommates to lovers

wc: 2.7k

warnings: humping, dirty talk, oral (f), squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: aight listen - i needed some time to process his new look and now i'm wet for him. he has a tongue piercing in this fic bcs ever since i gave one to rockstar!hyunjin i can't stop thinking about it (and tattoos). he is the moment😩💅🏻❤️

~ masterlist

Fucking hell.

Your hot roommate somehow managed to become hotter than he already was even after he gave you a good scare.

You were used to seeing his fluffy hair flying around everywhere, him tying it up while he was painting or cooking, putting it behind his ear constantly as a habit.

But the hair you were so fond of (even though you found strands of it everywhere in your apartment) was completely gone.

Without any prior announcement too.

You were just finishing up with dinner when he came home, strolling in casually and greeting you as he opened the fridge to grab a cold drink.

You greeted back, not even looking up as you were concentrating on cutting up some veggies.

You made small talk as always, you were kinda close and didn't mind sharing your day to each other over a meal.

Something was weird, you noticed out of the corner of your eye and when you lifted your head to look up, you almost cut your finger off.

"What the fuck?!" you practically screamed and Hyunjin laughed before smirking at you.

"Surprise?"

"Damn right it is." you stared at him in disbelief.

It was different. His long hair was comforting to you as sometimes he even let you braid it or play with it when you hung out and seeing him now was a shock.

His facial features stood out more and you couldn't help but admire his jawline, his nose, his eyebrows, heck even his ears were pretty.

It was unfair that he looked so good.

"I think our dinner's burning." he smirked knowingly and you shrieked, quickly turning the stove off and moving the pot aside.

Even as you sat down to eat, your eyes were glued to him.

"I'm guessing you don't hate it since you keep looking at me." he said, smirking again.

"Hate it? Far from that. I think you look h- well... um." you bit your tongue.

You never made a move on him even though you wanted to so many times, he drove you crazy every day, testing your mental strength as he strolled around shirtless, sometimes only with a towel wrapped around his middle, still wet from his shower. And you had a feeling he knew what he was doing, he was playing with you and he knew you were gonna eat out of his hand no matter what he does.

If you say it now, it'll be there on the table, laid out for him to make the next move.

You were sure the sly bastard was teasing you constantly.

"I look what? Say it." he dared you.

You put your fork down, wiping your mouth as you looked at him again.

"Hot. I think you look hot." you said, your heart beating out of your chest.

"Damn, did I have to shave my head for you to finally admit that?" he smirked and yes you were furious.

But you were also turned on at the way he was eye-fucking you and licking his plump lips, making sure to put his pretty tongue piercing on display.

Fuck, it was even hotter now.

"Shut up." you threw a napkin at him and he laughed at your feeble attempt to chase him away.

"Make me." he bit on his lip.

You didn't expect that.

"Make you?" your thighs pressed together, your stomach filling up with butterflies as you felt arousal gather on your pussy.

"Yeah, shut me up. Be creative with it." he smirked.

You observed him shortly as you felt annoyance and arousal rise inside you, wilding like the sea that was constantly spilling between your legs.

You stood up, pushing your chair back, almost making it fall down before you rounded the table to his side.

Hyunjin had a shit-eating grin on his face, manspreading in the chair as he looked up at you as if he was inviting you to sit in his lap.

You grabbed his chin making his eyes flutter instantly as you leaned in closer to his face.

God, he was beautiful.

"What are you waiting for, doll?" he smirked.

God, he angered you so badly.

So you crashed your lips on his, finally tasting him, feeling his soft lips move against yours.

Your hand slid on his face, his soft skin under your fingertips as you made your way to his hair.

Hyunjin was smirking into the kiss as you swiped your tongue over his lips, pushing it into his mouth to play with him, your hand finally touching his hair and it was surprisingly soft as you caressed him.

Hyunjin's large hands grabbed at you, pulling you into his lap as you whimpered into his mouth.

The kiss was sloppy, full of slurping sounds and teeth clanking occasionally but neither of you cared.

"Creative enough?" you asked when you parted for air, his lips were swollen and glistening with spit and you were sure yours were the mirror image.

"I think you can do better." he noted, the annoying smirk playing on his lips as always.

You held his face as you crashed your lips on his once more, kissing him harder and Hyunjin gripped at your hips before his hands slid down to your ass.

You bit on his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth and making him groan. His hand lifted up as he smacked your ass and you accidentally grinded against his growing bulge.

You froze for a moment and he looked at you hazily, his cheeks rosy, and a lazy smile, he looked even more edible than moments ago.

"Backing out?" he asked.

"N-no." you whined as he gripped your ass and pressed you into him, slightly moving against your core.

"Want me to take the lead, doll?" he asked with a smirk and you really didn't want to give him the satisfaction but he was already on it, leaning in as he started kissing your neck.

You shivered as he massaged your ass, slowly moving his clothed length against you and making your panties even more soaked.

Your hands were on his head and the back of his neck, touching him and getting used to the feel of it.

Hyunjin bit into your flesh, sucking on it and you wanted so badly to pull on his hair but you couldn't so you gripped the back of his neck, making him whine as his hands traveled under your shirt.

You were glad you didn't wear your bra as Hyunjin went straight for your tits, grabbing at them and playing with your nipples as he kept leaving marks on your neck.

You literally thought in that moment that he was going to make you cum in your panties, you felt so pathetic for letting him win so fast but he stopped all his movement, making you whine.

"Shh, doll." Hyunjin shushed you, grabbing your shirt and sliding it off, tossing it somewhere aside.

He looked at your tits as if he was in a trance but before you let him come near them, you tugged on his shirt so he took it off.

He had a few tattoos here and there and you wanted to press your lips to every single one, trace them with your tongue as if you were drawing on him.

Hyunjin didn't notice your mesmerized face because he was focused on your breasts, he finally leaned in and wrapped his lips around your nipple, moaning as he started sucking.

You whimpered, throwing your head back as you ran your fingers on the back of his neck.

Hyunjin's tongue lapped at your nipple, his hand sliding down into your panties.

You jolted a little, you didn't think he was this impatient but his fingers already found your puffy clit as he pressed into it and started moving them in circles.

You gripped his head, holding him down as he sucked on your breast harshly, making him whine around you as he sped up with his fingers.

"So wet for me, you're dripping." he ran his fingertips on your folds, gathering your wetness before he pulled them out of your panties and brought them to your mouth.

"Taste yourself." he smirked and you complied, opening your mouth as you moved against him, needing to feel anything as you sucked on his fingers.

He kept smirking as his other hand gripped your breasts, playing with them and you were just about to explode.

You gripped his wrist and pulled his hand away.

"I need more." you whimpered and he chuckled.

"Mm. What would that be?" he wrapped his arms around you, leaning in to kiss your collarbone and your breasts.

"Hyunjin, stop teasing me or so help me god-"

"What are you gonna do doll?" he smirked up at you, pressing your chest against his skin.

He was so warm and you wanted to drown in him.

You were about to get so annoyed with his teasing as you stood up, but Hyunjin followed you quickly, one arm wrapped around you as he moved the plates aside, making room to sit you up on the table.

You gasped in shock, looking back at the half finished dinner Hyunjin just pushed on the side, his fingers hooking into your pants.

"Here? Hyunjin, we eat here." you tried to scold him but he giggled.

"Oh, I'm gonna eat." he smirked, pulling your pants down and throwing them aside as you whimpered.

"Hyun!" your voice came out high pitched as he ran his fingers over the wet patch on your panties.

"All this for me?" he stared at you and you shivered under his gaze.

"Y-yeah." you swallowed, shivering in anticipation.

Hyunjin spread your legs before kneeling down, making you grip the table when his breath hit your core.

He leaned in, his lips attaching to your clothed clit as he licked at it, making the fabric even more wet before he started sucking on it.

"H-Hyun!" you moaned, your hand flying to his head to push him into you.

He smirked against you, tongue lapping over your folds as his nose pressed into your clit.

"P-please." you moaned, already grinding against his perfect face.

"Ah fuck it, I'm still hungry." he teased before pushing your panties aside, his tongue gathering your sweet juices as he moaned into you.

Your legs trembled as he started to suck on your clit, moaning constantly as if he was the one getting head, not you.

You kept running your hands on his soft hair, pushing him closer to you as he ate you out teasingly slowly, his tongue lapping at your insides, drinking from you, his piercing driving you crazy.

You needed more, faster, deeper and your legs started closing around his head but Hyunjin gripped your thighs, forcing you open as he kept eating you out like you were the last meal he was ever going to have.

You grinded against his face, his nose kept pressing against your clit as he fucked you with his tongue and soon your legs were shaking.

You kept him pressed against you and he moaned into your pussy, making out with your lower lips and you were losing your mind.

It didn't take much longer for you to explode on his face and tongue and Hyunjin eagerly licked it all up.

"Fuck." you groaned as he lifted up, licking around his swollen lips.

He looked at you as if he still wasn't satiated, as if he was going to devour you whole and at that moment you wanted him to.

"I could do that for hours." he whined, hand gripping at his obvious bulge.

"Why didn't you?" you smirked, still breathless.

"I wanna fuck your little pussy until it's shaped like my cock." he said as he pulled his length out, making you whimper and gasp at his words.

He gave himself a few tugs and you stared at his pretty cock, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

He gripped your panties and pulled them off before standing closer to you.

"H-Hyunjin!" you moaned when he pressed his tip on your folds.

"Gonna be a good doll and take it?" he smirked and you nodded.

He chuckled before pushing in, making you moan loudly as your nails dug into the table beneath you.

It wasn't the most comfortable thing to lay on but the feeling of Hyunjin stretching you with his cock and filling you up so perfectly made your mind cloudy.

He leaned closer to you and you gripped at his arms immediately as he held your hips, thrusting into you semi-fast.

"F-fuck..." you moaned, already on edge and it was embarrassing.

"How many times have you fantasized about me, hm babygirl?" Hyunjin smirked as he pressed himself closer to you, his cock massaging your cervix as his happy trail rubbed against your skin.

You opened your lips to speak as he held your hip, his other hand lifting up to put your hair behind your ear.

Before you could answer, your pussy clenched around him and you came all over his cock, tears flooding your eyes instantly.

"You came already?" he laughed mockingly as you dug your nails in his shoulders.

"I- I-" you were about to actually cry. This has never happened to you.

"It's okay doll. I know you're desperate for my cock. I think that makes you even cuter." he smirked as he started fucking you harder, the table with all the plates and glasses clattering.

"Ah!" you moaned repeatedly, not able to form any coherent words or sentences as he fucked you dumb on your kitchen table.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him as Hyunjin continued pounding into you, leaning closer again so he could grunt in your ear as you touched his soft short hair again, at this point the new look was making you feel even more aroused.

"I knew this pussy was greedy for my cock. Look how she's sucking me in." he looked down at where his length disappeared inside you so you followed his eyes, whimpering when you got the visual of his cock covered in your white cream fucking in and out of you.

"Shit!" you clenched around him again as he looked up at you.

"You gonna cum for me again?" he smirked, fucking you with even more force, the plates were dangerously close to the edge of the table.

"Y-yes!" you whimpered, completely dizzy and out of your mind as you squirted around his cock, your pussy gripping him so tightly that Hyunjin couldn't help it as he twitched inside you.

You scratched at his back as he dug his nails into your hips, filling you up with spurts of hot cum.

A crash startled you as he lazily fucked into you, trying to hold onto his high as long as possible and both of you looked up, seeing that one of the plates had fallen on the floor, smashing into pieces.

"Oh." Hyunjin groaned as he caged your head with his arms before he leaned down to kiss you, pressing his wet body against yours.

Both of you were sticky and wet and you couldn't believe you just let your hot roommate fuck you on the table in your kitchen.

He pulled out and chuckled at the mess.

"Wow you did a number on my back." Hyunjin noticed his reflection in the window, his back red with scratches.

"That's cause you didn't have any hair I could pull on." you smirked as you sat up.

"The way you held onto me I wouldn't have any left." he smirked back and you slapped his arm, giggling at him.

"I take it your really like my new hair." he leaned his hands on the table, caging you in again.

"I really like you." you said, your face heating up.

"I know you do, doll. Why do you think I've been teasing you? I was just waiting for you to finally react." he winked and you wanted to smack him but he caught your hand and held it.

"I really like you too." he said before kissing you.

"We should clean up the mess." you said as you leaned back.

"We should. After round two. Or more. Who knows." Hyunjin wiggled his eyebrows before lifting you up in his arms and making you squeal as he carried you towards your bedroom.

You were in for a long night.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @jeonginslefthand @laughatdanger @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @simpforleeknaur @schniti-is-in-the-house

[ariestrxsh]

❆ content warning: smut, use of toys, oral (f! & m!receiving), masturbation, cheating (kinda), getting caught, praise/degradation, voyeurism/exhibitionism, cuckold behavior, unprotected sex, threesome (ish), bf!chris, pervy!matt, gf!reader

❆ summary: chris buys you a dildo for christmas, and his brother matt, who has always had a thing for you stumbles upon you using it

Merry Chrattmas! 🤍 Sorry it's a little late. Inspired/requested by this ask.

Voyeur

"Alright, which one of you bought a sex toy?" Matt laughed after tearing open the package that had been left on the doorstep that morning without even bothering to look at the name of the recipient. He was holding up a glass dildo for the whole house to see. Nick's eyebrows flew up and his jaw dropped as his gaze meandered over to Chris from across the room.

"Give me that, asshole! What are you doing opening mail that isn't yours? What if it had been a gift for you?" Chris snarked, ripping the box and the toy out of Matt's hand. "Then I would have kindly asked you to return it," Matt chuckled, poking Chris in the side. Chris rolled his eyes.

"It's for my girlfriend, okay? Don't let her know that you've seen it, because she'd be really embarrassed," Chris responded, blushing. "I bet she'll look so good using it," Matt smirked, his imagination running wild.

It was no secret that Matt had always found you attractive. Everyone knew it. Chris knew it, Nick knew it, and even you knew it, but you'd oftentimes joke around, even to Matt's face, that you were a loyal Chris girl and that nothing could ever sway you.

Of course, Matt took this as a challenge and caused him to pine after you even more. You'd never admit to it, but you did secretly like the attention your boyfriend's brother gave you.

"Too bad you'll never know," Chris rolled his eyes at his brother's out-of-pocket comment and rushed off to his room to wrap the gift in private along with the pink Fresh Love hoodie he'd designed for you. He included a card in the gift that read:

"I hope you wear this hoodie and think of me the next time you get off without me. Merry Christmas, baby. I love you. Xoxo, Chris."

He scribbled in a poorly drawn heart at the bottom of the card. He swathed the box in gift wrap, tying a sparkly, pink bow around it and placing it under the tree.

It was only a few days later that you went over to your boyfriend's house to spend the night, and luckily, Nick was out for the evening, and Matt was on his way out, so the two of you were going to have the house to yourselves. It was the perfect opportunity for Chris to give you your present.

"You're going to love the gift my brother got you. It's gonna make you scream," Matt whispered into your ear and winked as he was getting ready to walk out the door. You rolled your eyes and scoffed at him, but your curiosity was sparked.

After he left, you and Chris sat in front of the fireplace in the glow of the burning wood and twinkling Christmas lights that were strewn around the tree. The scent of the sugar cookie candle that was burning down to the wick wafted through the air. Chris delicately placed the neatly-wrapped gift in your hand.

"I know it's not Christmas yet," Chris said with a warm smile, knowing you were the type of person who liked to wait until Christmas morning to open your gifts. You smiled back at him, fiddling with the pretty ribbon wrapped around it. "But?" You asked, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

"It's the kind of gift I want you to open alone," Chris responded, nervously biting his lip. You wrinkled your nose at him. Open alone? Too bad Matt knew what it was for whatever reason, you thought to yourself. You weren't sure where he was going with this, but that made it even harder to resist tearing open the gift.

"I'll make an exception. Just for you," you rolled your eyes in an endearing manner and began to tear off the wrap, revealing an unmarked box beneath the paper. You slowly removed the lid, and you gasped at the Fresh Love hoodie that was neatly folded on top.

It was your favorite color, and you clutched it close to your chest and gave your boyfriend an exhilarated smile. "Chris, I love it!" You glanced back down into the box where a card lay on top of some sparkly tissue paper. He'd made it himself, which made it that much more special. Blood rushed to your cheeks as you read the card aloud.

"Chris, what else is in here?" You wondered as you started rifling through the box. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped as you examined the glass toy, and you picked it up by the pink heart-shaped handle. "Chris.. it's so pretty," you whispered.

"Not as pretty as you using it, though, I'm sure," he gave you a cheeky grin and nudged you. "I don't know how. You should show me," you gave him a fake pout and batted your eyelashes at him. You did know how to use it, but you wanted Chris to be the first one to use it on you.

"Take off your clothes," he lustfully whispered as you handed off the dildo to him, a smirk playing in the corner of your lip. You pulled off your sweater, revealing that you had nothing on underneath, and you took down the waistband of your pajama pants and your underwear.

"Fuck, you're already wet," Chris noticed aloud as you slowly spread open your legs, his fingertips lightly grazing your skin. He leaned down and started trailing kisses up your inner thighs while you gently combed through his hair with your fingers as he neared your heat.

He licked a long stripe up your slit, subtly flicking his tongue across your clit once he got to it. He placed your toy at your entrance and slowly pushed it in. You squealed and clamped your legs down around Chris' head as you stretched around the glass dildo.

He began to gently fuck you with it, listening to the pretty sounds that fell from your lips as you threw your head back. You gripped his hair, tugging on it as he picked up the pace of his tongue, quickly flitting it over your bundle of nerves. He closed his lips down around it, humming against your clit, your legs shaking at the sensation.

The dildo didn't feel quite as good as having sex with Chris, but it was good enough that you knew it would satisfy you the next time you were turned on and missing him. He worked the toy in and out of you at a gradually quickening pace, and your hips started to move in unison with it.

"Chris, you're amazing," you breathlessly purred, and he chuckled with your pussy in his mouth. He could tell you were getting close. He didn't fluctuate, his motions remaining constant while his pretty blue eyes flicked up to meet yours. You rested your hand on the back of his head, encouraging him to keep eating you as your whole body started to tremble.

"Yes.. please.. just like that.. mmm.. gonna cum," you said in a series of broken moans. You felt yourself squeezing around the toy the same way your thighs were squeezing around Chris' ears, and before you knew it, you were coming undone at the seams.

The pressure that had spent so much time building in your core finally reached its breaking point. You bucked your hips, riding the toy and grinding against Chris' face as you finished. Your broken moans turned to fervent whimpers, and your whimpers turned to desperate screams, just like Matt had predicted. Your eyes wandered towards the back of your head.

Chris didn't take his gaze off you. He loved making you feel good, and he relished in the way your body reacted to orgasm. He thrust the toy in and out of you and licked your sensitive button until you were completely finished and pushing his head away.

"Oh my god," you said, trying to catch your breath and recover from the intensity of your climax. Chris came up for air, his lips and chin glistening in your fluids. "That was so hot," he said in a low, sexy voice. You took the toy from him and leaned in to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue as the two of you passionately made out.

"You're so good at giving," you told him. "Gifts, I mean." The two of you laughed at your play on words. You both spent the rest of the night watching Christmas movies cuddled up on the couch with mugs of hot cocoa while the fire burned through the rest of the wood.

You and Chris eventually found your way to his bedroom where the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms tangled in the sheets. The warmth of his body wrapped around you and the comforting feeling of his hot breath on your neck was the last thing you remembered before you drifted off...

You awoke the next morning to Chris shifting around on the bed, and after you rubbed your eyes, you realized he was getting dressed to go somewhere. "Where are you going?" You asked in your sleepy voice.

"I'm going to go pick us up coffee and bagels. Just keep sleeping like a little angel, and I'll be back soon. I love you," Chris whispered, leaning down to kiss you and ruffle your hair.

You were hoping to sneak in a little early morning sex with him, but he was already putting his shoes on, and you figured you could just use the new toy he bought you while he was gone. "I love you, too," you responded in a sweet voice.

You watched him from your foggy window, flakes of snow starting to slowly fall from the sky. Your face lit up, excited that you were going to get your White Christmas after all. Chris blew you a kiss before he got into his car and sped off.

You sauntered over to the pretty box that held your gifts. You changed into the pink Fresh Love hoodie Chris had designed for you, and you twirled around in front of his big mirror, admiring how perfectly it fit you.

You reached for the phallic-shaped glass and held it in your hands, contemplating whether to wait until Chris got back or to use it. You decided on the latter, unable to contain yourself any longer.

While Chris was still out getting the two of you breakfast, Matt wandered in through the front door. He set his keys down, let out a sigh, and started off down the hall, completely unaware of what he was about to stumble upon.

He walked past Chris' room, but some movement out of the corner of his eyes caused him to stop dead in his tracks and take a couple steps back. He was surprised to find you there, considering he didn't think anyone was home.

What surprised him even more was what you were doing. You were laying on your back on Chris' bed in nothing but your pink hoodie, legs spread, and your pussy wrapped around the toy he'd accidentally opened in the mail a couple days earlier.

You were so enthralled with what you were doing that you didn't even hear him come in or see him as he leaned up against your door frame with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. He raised an eyebrow as he studied the view, wetting his lips. It was everything he hoped it would be.

Your facial expressions were steeped in desire, ethereal moans rolling off your tongue, and your cunt stretching around the toy as you worked it back and forth. He immediately grew hard, watching you and imagining it was his cock pumping in and out of you.

Your eyes flickered up, realizing he was in the room with you. You gasped and shut your legs, holding the toy still inside of you as you clenched around it. "Please. Don't stop," Matt begged, reaching for the bulge in his pants and gently running his hand over it. "Keep going. Please. I just wanna watch," he softly begged.

It was so hard to see him stroke himself through his sweatpants and not do the same. You knew it was wrong to be feeling this way about your boyfriend's brother, but you felt your stomach drop as your eyes landed on the outline of his hard cock and before you knew it, you were spreading your legs back open and continuing to fuck yourself with your dildo.

"Does that feel good?" He asked you, and you timidly nodded at him with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. He walked forward a few feet, coming around to the side of the bed to watch you more closely. He reached out and lightly brushed your cheek with the back of his hand.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you quietly told him, but you couldn't help the way you relaxed into his touch as he caressed your face. "It's not like I'm fucking you," Matt smirked, and as he said it, your mind was immediately filled with ideas about what it would be like to get fucked by him.

Matt brushed his thumb against your bottom lip and gently pushed it into your mouth. You accepted it and started lightly sucking on it while Matt reached into his sweats and pulled out his pretty cock. You were shocked at how similar it looked to Chris', and it made it even easier for you to justify to yourself that you weren't technically doing anything wrong.

You sped up the toy thrusting into you as Matt continued to poke and prod your mouth with his fingers while he fervently jerked off at eye-level with you. "Good girl," Matt whispered as he ran his other thumb over his tip, coaxing a shiny fluid to leak from it. You sped up the pace as you watched him.

You knew the two of you were crossing a line, but you couldn't help yourself. Matt was too busy watching your toy glide in and out of your hole, and you were too busy watching Matt fist his cock that neither one of you saw Chris standing in the doorway with bagels and coffee as he stumbled upon the two of you and the way you were each hungrily looking at one another.

"Oh yeah? So I'm out getting you breakfast and you're using the toy I got you in front of my brother?" He scoffed, breaking the two of you out of your trance and making each of you jump.

He expected this from Matt, but he was shocked to see this kind of behavior from you. Matt pulled his thumb out from between your lips, and you each brought your movements to a standstill.

The longer Chris fixed his eyes on the scene in front of him, the more he found himself getting turned on by you playing with yourself in front of his brother. "Don't let me stop you. At least let me enjoy the show," Chris said, setting down the bagels and coffee on his dresser as he made his way to the foot of the bed and sat down.

You and Matt were dumbfounded, wondering if this was some kind of test. You halfway expected Chris to get angry, break up with you, or even physically fight his own brother. Yet, he was calm, and he seemed like he might have even liked it.

"Come on. Keep going," Chris demanded, and after a moment of hesitation, you continued to pump your toy into your drooling hole. Matt stuck his pointer finger into your mouth, and you started lightly sucking on it. A soft sigh left Matt's lips as he imagined you sucking on a different appendage, and he went back to stroking his pretty cock.

As if Chris could read Matt's thoughts, he flicked his gaze over at you, "Why don't you help him out?" He asked, a smirk playing in the corner of his mouth. You nodded and then looked back over at Matt who was putting his dick in your face that was silently begging to be sucked on.

You accepted him, wrapping your lips around his thickness as he started rocking his hips back and forth. He emitted a moan and his hand flew up to tangle itself in your hair. "Good girl," he softly purred, grabbing onto a fistful of your locks and pushing it further into your mouth.

He wasn't sure how far Chris would let him go with it, but he figured he'd test the boundaries until either one of you told him he was taking it too far. His other hand wandered between your legs. He started rubbing your clit, eliciting a moan from you that reverberated against his cock, leaving him with a lovely sensation.

"You're such a shameless little slut, aren't you? Letting my brother touch you in front of me as if I'm not your boyfriend?" Chris snarked at you, but you could tell by the luscious tone of his voice and the way he was stroking himself through his pants that he was getting off on what he saw.

"Come on, Matt. Fuck her pretty little face. She can take it. I promise," Chris encouraged him. He tightened his grip on your hair and did as Chris told him, jerking his hips forward triggering your gag reflex.

Matt continued drawing circles on your clit with the pad of his fingers as he stared into your watering eyes. His cock twitched against the back of your throat as he listened to the sound of you choking on him.

"Good girl. You take it so well. I wish I could fuck you," Matt purred. You moaned against Matt's length at the idea of him plowing you while your boyfriend watched. Chris was still gently rubbing his tip through the fabric of his pants as he watched the way you and Matt interacted with another.

"Merry Christmas, Matt. You can do whatever you want to her," Chris told him, getting harder and harder as his eyes flickered back and forth between the two of you. Matt's eyes twinkled as those words left Chris' lips.

"Oh, don't tell me that. I won't be able to control myself," Matt smirked, pulling his dick out from behind your lips with a pop. Matt grabbed the handle of your toy and slowly removed it from you and placed it on your nightstand.

"Go crazy. Can't you see how bad the little slut wants it?" Chris asked, staring down at the fucked out expression on your face and your pussy that was clenching around nothing.

Matt positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his cock teasing your hole. "You want it, don't you? You like the idea of getting fucked in front of your boyfriend?" Matt chuckled, breaching your entrance and beginning to gently rock his hips back and forth with only the first few inches of him inside you.

You slowly nodded, screwing your eyes shut as your jaw dropped at the change in sensation of Matt replacing your toy with his throbbing phallus. With every thrust, he pushed it in a little deeper until he was completely bottomed out inside of you, hitting the perfect spot.

The sounds of each of your moans dragging out and becoming louder as Matt pumped away. He placed your legs on his shoulders, fucking you harder and faster as you felt the pressure in your core building and building.

He pushed up your pink hoodie, revealing your perfect tits to him, and he gently squeezed one as he admired them. "Fuck, look at these," Matt whispered, pinching your nipple between the pads of his fingers, eliciting a soft mewl from you.

You could see Chris out of the corner of your eye moving towards you and coming around to the side of the bed. He took your hand in his and started caressing the back of it with his thumb. "Is he making you feel good?" He whispered into your ear before kissing your forehead. "Mhmm," you hummed delightfully.

It was always a fantasy of his to watch you get fucked by someone else, and although this wasn't exactly how he pictured it, he figured he couldn't let the opportunity go to waste.

"You take it like a little slut, you know that?" Chris cooed in your ear before latching onto your neck. You nodded, relishing in the way he spoke to you and the way his lips felt as he sucked on your sensitive flesh.

Matt loved the way it felt to be inside of you. He'd been fantasizing about it forever. He'd never admit it, but he'd stayed awake many nights, ear pressed up against Chris' door with his hand in his pants, listening to the sound of you getting fucked. He'd memorized the way your sweet little moans would slowly morph into seductive screams every time Chris would bring you to orgasm.

Now he was the reason pleasured noises were cascading from your lips, and he couldn't get enough. He knew you were getting close. "Oh, that's it," Matt grunted as he threw his head back, feeling you squeeze around his cock.

"Are you gonna cum for my brother?" Chris purred in your ear, recognizing the way your body was reacting and knowing you were about to finish. You looked into Chris' eyes and slowly nodded as the knot in your stomach came unraveled, your pussy rhythmically clenching around him.

"Good girl," Matt breathlessly whispered, pounding into you as hard as he could. Your pleasure reached a crescendo, and you heard a ringing in your ears and a strong buzzing throughout your body as you came undone on Matt's cock.

You couldn't see or think straight. All you could feel was an intense surge of pleasure followed by a wave of calmness washing over you as Matt's dick started to throb inside of you. He pulled out at the last second, painting your stomach in his load and pumping his cock back and forth with his fist until he had milked himself dry.

His eyes rolled back in his head, and his moans filled the room as he finished all over you. "Oh my god," he breathlessly whimpered, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. Chris' eyes followed the mess he made, his cock jerking at the sight.

"Hey, Matt. Just letting you know, this was a one-time thing, and if you're not out of here by the time I come to my senses, I might fucking kill you," Chris said sternly. Matt nodded, quickly pulling himself to his feet and tucking himself back into his pants before darting out of the room.

"Loyal Chris girl, huh?" Chris snarked at you, using your own words against you. "Chris.." you started to say, expecting him to get angry with you next. "It's okay. I'm not mad at you. I'm not mad at Matt either. I just wanted to see him run away like a little bitch," he told you, his lips curling into a devious smile.

"I actually really liked watching you two together," he admitted, biting his lip. Your eyebrows flew up in a look of surprise. You could tell he liked it, but you didn't think he'd confess to it. "Come on. Your coffee's probably cold by now."

taglist: @bsturnzmtts @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @jassturn @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @sturniolosweets @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @babysturniolo @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1 @chrislova @stellarsturns @lelesturniolo @sturniolodoll @ilovemattsturn @blahbel668 @fratboychrisera

[scoupsakakitty]

Under Pressure | idol!S.coups x idol!reader | 14th svt member reader | tw! Eating disorder | angst,fluff

Filming for Going Seventeen was supposed to be fun. The members laughed, played games, and joked around, but Y/N was struggling to keep up the act. Her body felt heavy, her stomach twisted in hunger, and her head pounded.

She knew she wasn’t supposed to eat anything during the shoot, at least not the snacks that weren’t part of her meal plan. But when she saw the others enjoying the cookies and chips laid out on the table, she couldn’t resist.

She reached for a cookie and took a small bite, the sweet taste instantly comforting her.

But the comfort didn’t last.

“Y/N.”

She froze as a staff member appeared beside her, their voice sharp enough to cut through the chatter in the room.

“What are you doing?”

Y/N quickly placed the cookie down, her heart racing.

“I—I was just—”

Before she could finish, the staff member snatched the cookie out of her hand.

“You know you can’t have this,” they hissed, leaning in closer so only she could hear. “What were you thinking?”

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as a few of the members glanced in their direction.

Seungcheol, who had been sitting just a few seats away, immediately straightened up. His eyes locked onto the staff member, and his jaw tensed.

He puffed out his chest slightly, a subtle but clear warning.

The staff member seemed to sense the shift and hesitated before reluctantly placing the cookie back on the table in front of her.

But Y/N couldn’t bring herself to eat it. Her appetite was gone, replaced by shame and guilt.

Seungcheol kept glancing her way, his brows furrowed, but she avoided his gaze.

———————————————————————————-

The moment filming ended, Y/N slipped away to the dressing room, hoping to pull herself together before anyone noticed.

But she wasn’t alone for long.

“What the hell was that out there?” the staff member snapped as they shut the door behind them.

Y/N flinched, pressing herself against the makeup chair.

“I—I just took one bite,” she stammered.

“And that’s enough to ruin everything! Do you know how much pressure we’re under to make sure you look perfect? And you’re shoving cookies in your mouth during a shoot?”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as she tried to explain.

“I felt dizzy,” she whispered. “I was scared I’d faint—”

“No excuses!” the staff barked. “You need to get yourself under control. Do you want people talking about how you’ve let yourself go?”

Outside the room, Jeonghan paused as he overheard the harsh words. His eyes narrowed, and without hesitating, he turned and sprinted down the hall.

———————————————————————————-

Seungcheol was in the waiting room when Jeonghan burst through the door.

“Hyung, you need to come now.”

Seungcheol shot up from his chair.

“What happened?”

“It’s Y/N,” Jeonghan said breathlessly. “The staff is yelling at her. It’s bad, hyung.”

Seungcheol didn’t waste a second. He stormed out of the room, his strides long and purposeful.

When he reached the dressing room, he didn’t bother knocking—he threw the door open so hard it slammed against the wall.

“What the hell is going on here?!”

Both Y/N and the staff member jumped.

“S-Seungcheol-ssi—”

“Don’t,” Seungcheol snapped, stepping further into the room.

Y/N sat frozen in her chair, her face streaked with tears.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Seungcheol’s voice was low but filled with anger.

“She—she was eating during the shoot—”

“And?!” Seungcheol’s voice rose, making the staff member flinch.

“She knows the rules—”

“No.” He cut them off sharply. “The only thing I see here is you abusing your position and tearing her down. Do you think I’m going to let that slide?”

The staff tried to speak, but Seungcheol took another step forward.

“You don’t get to talk to my members like this. Ever. If you have an issue, you bring it to me. Not her.”

The staff paled.

“You’re done here,” Seungcheol said firmly. “If I hear one more word about this, I’ll make sure the company knows every detail.”

The staff quickly mumbled an apology before slipping out of the room.

Seungcheol turned back to Y/N, his expression softening as he knelt in front of her.

“Hey,” he said gently, brushing a tear off her cheek. “It’s okay now. They’re gone.”

Y/N finally broke, collapsing into his arms.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I promise I’ve got you.”

———————————————————————————-

The ride back to the dorms was silent.

Once inside, Y/N followed Seungcheol into his room, her nerves eating away at her.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked hesitantly.

Seungcheol turned to face her, his expression soft but serious.

“No, I’m not mad,” he said.

“Then why won’t you talk to me?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m disappointed,” he admitted.

Y/N’s stomach dropped.

“In me?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I’m disappointed that you didn’t tell me what was going on.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” she whispered.

Seungcheol stepped closer, taking her hands.

“You’re not a burden,” he said firmly. “Not to me, not to anyone else. You’re part of this team, Y/N. And more than that… you’re mine. I’m not going to let anyone treat you like that again.”

Y/N broke down again, and Seungcheol pulled her into his arms.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Always.”

———————————————————————————-

The next day, Seungcheol followed through on his promise.

He filed a formal complaint against the staff member, and the other members especially Jeonghan backed him up without hesitation.

Y/N’s schedule was adjusted, and the strict diet rules were eased.

But more importantly, Seungcheol made sure she never felt alone again.

He brought her snacks during practice, forced her to take breaks, and reminded her constantly that she didn’t have to be perfect.

And slowly, Y/N began to feel like herself again.

She still had bad days—days where the pressure felt overwhelming.

But on those days, Seungcheol was there to remind her that she was never in this alone.

Because no matter what, he would always be her biggest supporter.

[missarchive]

guys my age - spencer reid

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

who? professor spencer reid x student fem!reader

category: slow burn, forbidden love.

content warnings: NSFW MDNI! age gap! (spencer is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s). dubious content. freakish obsessed reader, freakish obsessed spencer. dom!spencer, but reader is pretty controlling. borderline stalking. unprotected p in v. forbidden love. power dynamics. smut. spencer cums inside :]

word count: around 8k

a/n: hi all!! this is my first post, i used to write wayyy back in the day but after a long three years and finally finishing my degree, i now have all the time in the world to write again. feedback is greatly appreciated <3

The lecture hall was alive with murmurs, but you couldn’t hear them. All you could focus on was the moment that door would open, the instant he would walk in. Dr. Spencer Reid. His name consumed you, whispered endlessly in the back of your mind, an invocation that made your pulse quicken. You had done your research long before the semester began—his credentials, his publications, the infamous cases he’d worked. He wasn’t just brilliant. He was untouchable. But not to you.

You sat deliberately in the middle row, far enough back to observe him fully, close enough to feel like he was speaking directly to you. The moment he entered, time seemed to slow. His presence was overwhelming, his voice a melody that wrapped around you, dragging you under. Every movement he made—the way his fingers toyed with the edge of his lecture notes, the slight adjustment of his glasses—was a spectacle.

“Good morning, everyone. Welcome to Advanced Criminology. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” His voice was smooth and confident, with an underlying warmth that immediately put you at ease.

For the next hour, you sat transfixed as he delved into the complexities of criminal behavior, weaving together case studies and theories with an ease that only someone with his expertise could manage. He had a way of making even the most intricate concepts accessible, his passion for the subject evident in every word. By the end of the lecture, you were utterly captivated—not just by the material, but by the man who delivered it.

Perfectly ironed white shirt, sleeves rolled up his forearms. The same black suit pants you’d seen countless times when you closed your eyes. Unruly curls lay in a perfect mess, somehow each strand just fit. His eyes held knowledge, they commanded attention. They looked at you with such an intensity, you wondered if he could see right through you. Sure, he wasn’t blind. Dr. Spencer Reid was a genius, after all. But, as he walks around his classic oak desk, fingers grazing against the wood as he leans up against it, you wonder if he knows the effect he has on you… On everyone.

Your old professor had resigned, much to your dismay. However, that was quickly resolved once you learnt of the new, much younger professor who was assigned to take his place. Spencer Reid, a name that seemed like a curse every time it was spoken. You’d just have to settle for admiring from afar, for now. 

He was perfect. No, he was more than that. He was yours.

In those first weeks, it became routine to linger after class, pretending to ask questions about criminological theories when all you wanted was his attention. You started tracking his habits: the exact time he arrived on campus, where he grabbed his coffee, the path he took to his office. It wasn’t enough to listen to him during lectures. You needed to know him. Needed to understand every nuance of his life.

Your notebooks filled slowly. Not just with his words, but with sketches of his hands, his profile, even the way the light hit his hair during evening lectures. You memorized his mannerisms and read every book he recommended—not just to excel but to mirror his thoughts, to create a bond he couldn’t ignore.

Each interaction became a drug, a fleeting high that left you craving more. The way his eyes lingered on yours during class wasn’t a coincidence. You were sure of it. The moments his voice softened when addressing you were evidence of something deeper. He felt it too—he had to.

Dr. Reid, for his part, seemed to enjoy your curiosity. He would patiently answer your questions, occasionally sharing anecdotes from his time in the field. There was a depth to him that intrigued you, a sense of vulnerability hidden beneath his intellect. You couldn’t help but feel a growing admiration for him—one that you knew was dangerous to entertain.

It happened on a rainy Friday afternoon. You had stayed behind after class to discuss a particularly challenging case study, and the conversation had spilled into his office. The rain pattered against the window as you sat across from him, your notes spread out on the desk between you.

“I’m impressed with your analysis,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. “You have a natural aptitude for this field.”

The compliment sent a flush of warmth through you, but you quickly pushed it aside. “Thank you, Dr. Reid. That means a lot coming from you.”

For a moment, the air between you shifted, the professional boundary wavering ever so slightly. He seemed to sense it too, clearing his throat and looking away. “Well, uh, keep up the good work. I’m looking forward to seeing your perspective on the next assignment.”

As you gathered your things and prepared to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something unspoken lingered between you. It was subtle, like the faintest trace of electricity in the air, but it was there. And it terrified you.

The weeks turned into months, and the connection between you and Dr. Reid continued to deepen. It wasn’t intentional—at least, that’s what you told yourself. You simply couldn’t help the way your conversations seemed to flow effortlessly or the way his insights resonated with you on a level that felt personal.

There were moments when you caught him watching you during lectures, his gaze lingering a fraction longer than necessary. And then there were the times when his praise felt almost... intimate, as if he saw something in you that went beyond your academic abilities.

You knew it was wrong. He was your professor, and the power dynamic alone made any kind of relationship inappropriate. But the more you tried to suppress your feelings, the stronger they seemed to grow. You found yourself yearning for his company, for the way his mind worked, for the rare glimpses of vulnerability he shared.

And you weren’t entirely sure he was immune to it, either.

It was during a late-night office visit that everything came to a head. You had been working on your final paper and were struggling with a particular section. Dr. Reid had offered to review it, and you had jumped at the chance, grateful for his guidance.

As you sat across from him, discussing your ideas, the tension that had been building between you finally reached its breaking point. There was a moment of silence as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes searching yours.

“You’re incredibly talented,” he said softly. “I hope you know that.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard, and before you could stop yourself, you replied, “It’s easy to feel that way when someone like you believes in me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He looked at you, his expression a mixture of conflict and longing. “This...” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “This can’t happen. I won’t elaborate further, but you’re a smart girl… I know you know what I'm talking about.”

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I know.”

But even as you said it, neither of you moved to leave. All you received was a curt nod. The pull between you was undeniable, and in that moment, it felt as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

The night of the gala was your chance. You spent hours perfecting your appearance, knowing he would notice you in a way he never had before. And when he did, when his eyes locked onto you with that unreadable expression, it was like the entire world fell away.

When he led you to the corner of the room, your heart pounded, not with fear, but with anticipation. His frustration, his struggle to maintain control, only proved how deeply you had affected him.

“What are you doing?” He demanded, his voice low and sharp.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you mean, Dr. Reid.”

His jaw clenched, his composure slipping. “You know exactly what I mean. You’ve been crossing lines all semester.”

You stepped closer, the scent of his cologne intoxicating. “And what if I have?”

His gaze burned into yours, his control fraying with each passing second. “This has to stop.” He said, though his tone lacked conviction.

But you knew better. You had studied him, unraveled him piece by piece. He wasn’t as strong as he pretended to be. And neither were you.

“Maybe I don’t want it to.” You whispered, your voice trembling with both fear and desire.

For a moment, his eyes softened, as if seeing the truth of your obsession for the first time. “Obsession is a dangerous game.” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You would burn the whole world down if it meant keeping him close.

The world outside of Dr. Reid’s orbit ceased to matter. Friends became an afterthought. Classes, even the ones you’d once excelled in, were nothing more than obligations. Every moment not spent in his presence felt wasted. His words were etched into your memory, his voice a constant echo in your mind.

You found excuses to linger near his office, pretending to read in the hallway or jotting down notes on topics that had long ceased to matter. Sometimes you’d see him through the small window of his door, head bowed over papers, fingers absently running through his tousled hair. Those moments were sacred.

And then there were the nights.

Your dreams became a battleground, the lines between fantasy and reality blurring. You would see him, hear him, feel the phantom weight of his gaze. Waking up was a cruel joke, pulling you from a world where he was already yours. More than once, you had the fleeting urge to knock on his door late at night, under the pretense of needing help.

But you stopped yourself. Barely.

For now.

When he praised you in class, it felt personal, intimate. You lived for those moments. The way he would say your name, how his eyes would flicker with something unreadable—those seconds were your lifeline. But it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. You needed more.

You started keeping track of the little details. The brand of pens he used. The scuff on his leather satchel. The faint hint of lavender in his cologne. You’d bought the same scent, spraying it on your pillow just to feel closer to him at night.

One evening, you followed him. It wasn’t intentional, not at first. He left the lecture hall as you lingered, and without thinking, you gathered your things and trailed behind him. He walked briskly, head down, weaving through the near-empty campus. You stayed far enough back to avoid suspicion but close enough to study him.

He stopped at the local bookstore, his long fingers running over the spines of books with a reverence that made your chest tighten. You hid behind a display, watching him as he browsed. When he left, you waited a few moments before approaching the same section. He had lingered near the true crime section, and you traced the path of his fingers, touching the same books he had touched.

It became a ritual after that. You discovered his favorite haunts: the coffee shop where he always ordered black coffee with two sugars, the quiet corner of the library where he would sometimes sit and read, the park where he walked on Sunday mornings. You were careful, meticulous, ensuring he never saw you. But you saw him.

Every time you caught a glimpse of him, it felt like a secret, a moment that belonged solely to you.

The gala had been your boldest move yet, and the way his gaze lingered on you that night had only fueled the fire. His warning echoed in your mind, but you dismissed it. He said you were crossing boundaries, but you knew better. He was simply scared. Scared of what this meant. Scared of what you meant.

You decided to leave him something. A token, something small enough to avoid suspicion but personal enough that he would know it was from you. A first edition of one of the books he had mentioned in class. You placed it on his desk after everyone had left, your heart racing as you imagined his reaction.

The next day, you waited, anticipation coiling in your stomach like a serpent. When he walked into class, the book was in his hand. His eyes scanned the room, lingering on you for a moment too long before he placed it in his bag without a word.

It was a victory.

But victories, you realized, were fleeting.

One evening, as you left the library, you spotted him walking toward his car. The parking lot was empty, save for the two of you, and for the first time, you didn’t bother to stay hidden. You followed him openly, your footsteps echoing against the pavement.

He stopped abruptly, turning to face you.

“Why are you following me?” He asked, his voice sharp but not unkind. His eyes held a mixture of curiosity and something darker, something you couldn’t quite place.

Your breath caught, but you forced a smile. “I wasn’t following you, Dr. Reid. I just happened to be walking this way.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “This isn’t the first time, is it?”

The accusation hung in the air, and for a moment, you thought about denying it. But then, something inside you snapped.

“No.” You admitted, your voice trembling. “It’s not.”

His expression shifted—confusion, disbelief, and something else flickered across his face. “Why?”

The word was a whisper, barely audible, but it was enough to unravel you.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” you said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep—I can’t focus on anything but you. You’re brilliant, and kind, and perfect, and I—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “This isn’t healthy.”

You took a step closer, desperation clawing at your chest. “But it’s real. You know it is. I see the way you look at me. Don’t pretend you don’t feel it too.”

He took a step back, shaking his head. “This has to end…now. Do you understand me?”

But you didn’t believe him. Not really. Because you had seen the way his hands trembled when you were near, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you. He was scared, yes, but not of you. He was scared of himself.

And that, you realized, was all the encouragement you needed.

Dr. Reid’s words echoed in your mind for days after the encounter in the parking lot. This has to end. But the way he said it, the way his voice wavered ever so slightly, betrayed him. It wasn’t conviction; it was fear. Fear of what you had awakened in him.

You were sure of it now. He wasn’t immune to you. Not entirely.

The proof came in small, fleeting moments—too subtle for anyone else to notice, but to you, they were glaring signs. The way his eyes lingered on you during lectures, his gaze softening before he quickly looked away. The way he adjusted his tie when you walked into the room, as if suddenly self-conscious. And then there were the compliments, so carefully worded that they might seem innocent to others, but to you, they felt personal. Intimate.

Still, he kept his distance. Even when you sought him out after class, he kept the conversations brief, his tone polite but clipped. It was maddening, the way he seemed to hold himself back.

But then, there were cracks.

One afternoon, you arrived at his office under the guise of needing help with a research topic. He hesitated before letting you in, his hand lingering on the doorknob as if debating whether this was a mistake.

Once inside, the air between you was charged. He sat across from you, his hands folded on the desk, but his gaze flickered to your lips more than once as you spoke.

When you handed him a stack of notes, your fingers brushed, and he pulled back quickly, too quickly.

“Sorry.” He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, leaning forward just enough to close the space between you. “It’s okay.”

For a moment, his composure faltered. His eyes locked onto yours, and the tension was unbearable. You could see it in his face—the war he was waging within himself.

Then, just as quickly, he stood, turning his back to you as he busied himself with a stack of papers on the shelf. “Your analysis is impressive,” he said, his tone suddenly distant. “You’re clearly passionate about the subject.”

The shift was jarring, but it only solidified your resolve. He wasn’t rejecting you. He was protecting himself.

That evening, you stayed late in the library, poring over the materials he had assigned. As you packed up to leave, you noticed a familiar figure in the far corner. He was seated at a table, his long fingers flipping through a thick volume, his expression distant.

You froze, your heart pounding. He hadn’t noticed you yet. For a moment, you considered leaving, but the pull was too strong.

You approached slowly, the sound of your footsteps drawing his attention. When he looked up, his eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something unguarded crossing his face before he composed himself.

“Staying late?” He asked, his voice calm, but his fingers tightened on the edge of the book.

You nodded, setting your bag down on the table. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He gave a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I find the library... peaceful.”

“Me too.” You said softly, taking a seat across from him.

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the unspoken tension that had been building for months. His eyes flicked to yours, then away, as if he couldn’t decide whether to meet your gaze or avoid it entirely.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “You should be careful, you know. Spending so much time in my office, lingering after class—it’s not... appropriate.”

Your heart twisted at the words, but his tone was anything but stern. It sounded like a warning, but it felt like a confession.

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked down at his hands, his fingers flexing as if resisting the urge to reach for something—or someone.

“It’s not about what I want.” He said finally, his voice strained.

But it was. You could see it in the way his shoulders tensed, in the way his gaze lingered on you when he thought you weren’t looking. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him. He was just better at pretending otherwise.

The next day, during his lecture, you felt his eyes on you more than usual. He paced the room as he spoke, his hands gesturing animatedly, but every so often, his gaze would drift to you, his words faltering for the briefest moment before he recovered.

It was intoxicating, knowing you could unravel him like this.

After class, as the other students filtered out, you stayed behind, your heart racing as you approached his desk.

“Dr. Reid,” you began, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you.

He looked up, his expression unreadable. “Yes?”

You hesitated, searching for the right words, but before you could speak, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re relentless.” He said softly, almost to himself.

The words sent a shiver down your spine.

“I just want to understand you.” You said, stepping closer.

He shook his head, a faint, almost bitter smile playing on his lips. “You already understand too much.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The space between you felt impossibly small, the air thick with tension. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the way he fought to maintain control, but you also saw the flicker of something darker, something he couldn’t quite suppress.

And in that moment, you knew: this wasn’t over.

It was only just beginning.

It started innocently enough—at least, that’s what you told yourself.

The male student, a classmate you barely knew, had approached you after lecture to ask about the upcoming project. His name was Ethan, and while he was polite and charming, you couldn’t muster much interest in the conversation. Still, you smiled and nodded at his jokes, your polite laughter echoing in the near-empty hall.

Unbeknownst to you, Dr. Reid had lingered behind, tidying up his desk and organizing his papers. His sharp ears caught the sound of your laughter, a melody he had grown far too familiar with—and possessive of.

He looked up to see you standing near the doorway, your body language relaxed as Ethan leaned in slightly, his tone conspiratorial. Spencer’s grip on the edge of the desk tightened.

Ethan’s laugh was loud, too loud, as if he wanted to broadcast how much he enjoyed your company. Spencer’s jaw clenched. He knew this was ridiculous. He was your professor, and it wasn’t his place to interfere with your social life. But the sight of another man so close to you, taking liberties he couldn’t, made his blood boil.

When you glanced back into the classroom, likely to gather your things, your eyes met Spencer’s. For a fleeting moment, his mask slipped, and you saw something dark and raw flicker across his face. It was gone just as quickly, replaced by his usual calm demeanor, but the image stayed with you.

“Everything alright, Dr. Reid?” You asked, stepping inside and leaving Ethan to wait by the door.

Spencer straightened, clearing his throat. “Yes. Just... finishing up.”

Ethan peeked his head in. “Ready to go?” He asked, his tone casual but his presence invasive.

Spencer’s eyes darted to Ethan, then back to you. “You should be careful with your time,” he said, his voice quiet but pointed. “The project deadline isn’t as far off as it seems.”

You frowned, confused by the sudden shift in his tone. “I’ll make sure to stay on top of it.”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, as if debating whether to say more. Instead, he turned his attention back to his desk, his movements stiff and deliberate.

The next few days were marked by a subtle shift in Spencer’s behavior. During lectures, his eyes seemed to find you more often, but they were no longer soft or conflicted. There was an intensity to his gaze now, a quiet possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

When Ethan approached you again after class, Spencer’s reaction was immediate.

“Miss L/N.” He called out, his voice carrying across the room.

You turned, surprised to see him still at his desk. “Yes, Dr. Reid?”

“Could you stay for a moment? I’d like to discuss your recent paper.”

Ethan hesitated, clearly waiting for you, but Spencer’s sharp gaze left no room for argument. “I won’t keep her long.” He said smoothly, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Ethan nodded reluctantly. “I’ll catch you later.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, Spencer’s demeanor shifted. He stood, his tall frame looming as he approached you.

“Is he bothering you?” He asked, his tone casual but his eyes anything but.

“Ethan? No, not at all. Why would you think that?”

Spencer’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He seems... persistent. I just want to make sure you’re not feeling pressured.”

You couldn’t help but smile, amused by his sudden protectiveness. “I’m fine, Dr. Reid. Really.”

He nodded, but his expression didn’t soften. “Good. I’d hate to see someone distract you from your potential.”

The words were innocent enough, but the way he said them—the way his eyes lingered on yours—made your breath catch.

It wasn’t long before his jealousy became harder to hide.

During a group discussion, Ethan made a point of sitting next to you, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned over to share his notes. Spencer’s gaze locked onto the interaction, his hand tightening around the marker in his grip until his knuckles turned white.

When Ethan made a joke and you laughed, Spencer interrupted sharply. “Let’s stay on topic, please. This isn’t a social hour.”

The class fell silent, startled by his uncharacteristic tone. You glanced at him, surprised by the edge in his voice. He avoided your gaze, turning back to the whiteboard with rigid movements.

After class, as students filtered out, he called your name again.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said, his voice softer now. “I was... out of line earlier.”

“It’s okay.” You replied, though you couldn’t hide your confusion.

He hesitated, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for something. “You have to understand,” he began, his voice dropping lower, “that I only want what’s best for you. Not everyone has your best interests at heart.”

“Are you talking about Ethan?”

Spencer’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer directly. “Just... be careful who you trust.”

The weight of his words hung heavy between you, and for the first time, you wondered if his concern was more than professional.

Later that evening, you found yourself thinking about him again, replaying the moments when his composure slipped, when his obsession peeked through the cracks. You didn’t know whether to be scared or thrilled.

But one thing was certain: Spencer Reid was unraveling, and you were the one pulling the thread.

The days that followed were an intricate dance of tension, each interaction with Dr. Reid pulling you closer to a dangerous edge. His jealousy, once simmering beneath the surface, began to bleed into every corner of your academic life, coloring the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you, the way he made his presence impossible to ignore.

It started small.

Ethan asked you to partner up for a case study project, and though you agreed, the arrangement didn’t go unnoticed. During the next lecture, Spencer called on you repeatedly, his questions increasingly challenging, as if testing your limits. The rest of the class shifted uncomfortably, sensing the deliberate scrutiny, but you met his gaze head-on, refusing to falter.

Afterward, he lingered at the podium, watching as Ethan hovered near your seat, leaning down to talk to you. The sight made his stomach churn. He didn’t like how Ethan’s hand rested casually on the back of your chair, how his laughter seemed designed to draw your attention.

“Miss L/N, a word?” Spencer’s voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding.

“What’s this about?” You asked, crossing your arms.

He tilted his head, his gaze piercing. “I noticed you and Ethan are working together.”

“We are,” you said carefully. “Is there a problem?”

His jaw clenched. “No... as long as you’re confident he’ll contribute equally. He strikes me as the type to let others carry the weight of the work.”

You frowned. “That’s not fair. He’s been helpful so far.”

Spencer leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “Helpful isn’t always the same as trustworthy. Just keep that in mind.”

You stared at him, the intensity in his tone sending a shiver down your spine. He wasn’t just warning you—he was staking a claim, subtle but unmistakable.

The breaking point came during a departmental mixer, an event meant to encourage networking among students and faculty.

You had hesitated to attend, but Ethan insisted, offering to walk you there. Spencer spotted you as soon as you entered, his sharp eyes narrowing when he saw Ethan’s hand at the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd.

He approached you moments later, his movements precise and deliberate. “Miss L/N, a pleasure to see you here.”

“Dr. Reid.” You greeted, your smile nervous under the weight of his gaze.

“And Ethan,” Spencer added, his tone clipped. “Enjoying the event?”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Ethan replied, oblivious to the tension. “I was just telling Y/N about a conference coming up in D.C. She’s thinking about attending.”

“Is she?” Spencer asked, his eyes locking on yours.

Ethan nodded. “I might go too. We could share accommodations to save on costs.”

The suggestion made Spencer’s blood run cold. His mind spiraled with images of you and Ethan alone, the boundaries he fought so hard to maintain crumbling under the weight of his jealousy.

“That won’t be necessary.” Spencer said abruptly.

Both you and Ethan blinked in surprise.

“I mean,” he added, forcing a smile, “it’s likely the university will have funding options available for individual accommodations. I’d be happy to look into it for you, Miss L/N.”

“Thank you, Dr. Reid.” You said slowly, sensing the undercurrent of his words.

Ethan opened his mouth to protest, but Spencer cut him off with a glance so sharp it left no room for argument.

Later that evening, Spencer’s restraint finally snapped.

You stayed behind after the mixer to gather your things, only to find him waiting for you outside the building. The night air was cool, but the tension between you burned hot.

“You didn’t have to wait.” You said, pulling your jacket tighter around you.

“I wanted to.” He replied, his voice low and steady.

You walked in silence for a moment, the quiet punctuated by the rhythmic click of your heels against the pavement.

“Why do you do it?” He asked suddenly.

“Do what?”

“Let him follow you around like that. Laugh at his jokes. Entertain his attention.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him. “Ethan’s my classmate. I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

“It is my concern.” He said, stepping closer. “You don’t see the way he looks at you. The way he talks to you.”

“And how do you look at me, Dr. Reid?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, your voice trembling.

His breath hitched, his carefully constructed walls beginning to crumble. “You know how I look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve known all along.”

The admission hung in the air, dangerous and electrifying. You stared at him, your heart pounding as he took another step closer, his presence overwhelming.

“This can’t happen.” He said, though his words lacked conviction.

“Then why are you here?”

He didn’t answer, but the intensity in his gaze spoke volumes. His hand twitched at his side, as if he was fighting the urge to reach for you. The distance between you felt razor-thin, and for the first time, you wondered who would break first.

The silence stretched between you, taut and electrifying. Spencer’s jaw tightened, and his hand briefly raked through his hair—a telltale sign of his internal struggle. He was balancing on the edge of control, teetering between his professionalism and the unrelenting pull you had on him.

“You should go home.” He finally said, his voice low but strained, as if forcing the words out against his own desires.

You didn’t move. Instead, you tilted your head, studying him with a boldness that matched his intensity. “Is that what you want?”

His sharp intake of breath gave him away. “What I want doesn’t matter.” He said, but his eyes betrayed him, dark with longing.

You stepped closer, drawn to the crack in his carefully curated armor. “It matters to me.”

“Don’t.” He warned, but the word lacked strength, a faint plea wrapped in desperation.

You hesitated, caught between the thrill of provoking him and the awareness of the risk you were taking. Still, the magnetic pull between you was undeniable. “If you really wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

Spencer’s restraint snapped, just for a moment. He reached out, his hand hovering near your arm before he jerked it back as if burned. His expression twisted in frustration, his usual composure unraveling.

“You think this is a game?” He hissed, his voice harsh. “You don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“I’m not the only one doing it,” you shot back, emboldened by the fire in his eyes. “You can’t stand it when anyone else gets too close to me. Admit it.”

His silence was deafening, his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the faint twitch in his cheek.

“I see the way you look at me,” you continued, your voice softer now, almost coaxing. “It’s not just admiration, Dr. Reid. It’s something more.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He muttered, turning away, but you caught the tremble in his voice.

“Then prove me wrong.” You challenged.

Spencer turned back to you, and this time, there was no mistaking the raw emotion in his gaze. “You want the truth?” He said, his voice dangerously soft.

You nodded, your pulse quickening.

“I think about you more than I should. I notice every detail—every time you laugh, every time you tuck your hair behind your ear. And when I see him talking to you...” He broke off, shaking his head. “It takes everything in me not to...”

“Not to what?” You pressed, your heart pounding.

His lips parted, but he seemed to catch himself, stepping back as if the space between you might restore his self-control. “Not to cross a line I can’t uncross…” He finally said, his tone heavy with regret.

But the heat in his gaze told a different story—a story of a man on the verge of losing himself to the very thing he’d been trying to resist.

The tension between you didn’t dissipate. If anything, it grew, seeping into every interaction like an unstoppable tide.

In class, his gaze lingered on you longer than was appropriate, his voice faltering slightly when he called on you. During office hours, his questions delved deeper, as if searching for something he couldn’t articulate.

But it was during a casual seminar that the cracks in his professionalism began to widen.

You had arrived early, taking a seat in the front row. As you flipped through your notes, Spencer entered the room, his eyes immediately seeking you out. He paused, visibly unsettled, before making his way to the podium.

As other students filtered in, Ethan arrived and, to your surprise, took the seat beside you. He leaned in, his tone light and teasing as he made some comment about the seminar topic.

Spencer’s expression darkened. He began the session, but his usual measured tone was tinged with an edge that made the room feel heavier. His eyes kept drifting to where you sat, his words sharper whenever he addressed you or Ethan.

When the seminar ended, Spencer was quick to dismiss the class. 

The classroom emptied, leaving the two of you alone. Spencer stood behind the podium, his hands gripping its edges.

“What was that?” He asked, his voice tight.

“What was what?” You replied, feigning innocence.

“You know exactly what I mean.” His gaze pinned you in place. “Him. Sitting next to you. Acting like he—” He broke off, shaking his head as if trying to compose himself.

“Acting like what?” You pressed, stepping closer.

“Like he has the right to your attention,” Spencer snapped, his professionalism unraveling further. “He doesn’t. Not the way I...”

He stopped himself, his chest rising and falling with restrained emotion.

“Not the way you what?” You asked softly, your voice carrying a mix of curiosity and challenge.

His eyes burned with an intensity that made your breath catch. For a moment, you thought he might close the distance between you, shattering the boundaries he’d been clinging to.

Instead, he exhaled shakily and stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “This needs to stop.” He muttered, though the words seemed directed more at himself than at you.

But even as he said it, the tension between you was palpable, an invisible thread pulling you closer despite the chaos it threatened to unleash.

The air between you felt suffocating, charged with a tension that had been building for weeks. Spencer stood before you, his normally composed demeanor unraveling with every passing second. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tight as he tried to steady his breathing.

“I’ve tried,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve tried to keep this professional. To keep my distance. But you...” He looked at you then, his gaze piercing and raw. “You make it impossible.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of exhilaration and fear coursing through your veins. “What are you saying?” You asked, your voice trembling.

“I’m saying that I can’t pretend anymore,” he admitted, his voice low and filled with something dark and desperate. “Every time I see you with him, every time I see you smile at someone else... I can’t stand it.”

You took a step closer, emboldened by the vulnerability in his confession. “Then don’t pretend.”

Spencer’s eyes darkened, his restraint crumbling as he closed the distance between you in an instant. His hands cupped your face, his touch firm but reverent, as though he’d been starving for this moment.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me…” He murmured, his voice shaky with need.

“Then show me.” you whispered, your breath ghosting against his lips.

That was all it took. Spencer’s mouth claimed yours in a kiss that was as fierce as it was desperate. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as though he needed you to breathe. The kiss was everything—pent-up frustration, unspoken desire, and a need that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged. “This is wrong.” He muttered, though his hands still gripped your waist, unwilling to let you go.

“We don’t have to tell anyone.” You countered, your voice soft but insistent.

Spencer’s eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. But then his resolve broke entirely. His lips found yours again, this time slower, more deliberate. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claiming, a declaration that you were his, consequences be damned.

Without a word, he guided you backward until you felt the edge of his desk against your hips. His hands roamed your sides, skimming over your curves with a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he admitted between kisses, his voice hoarse. “How many nights I’ve stayed awake, thinking about you. How hard it’s been to stay professional when all I want is to make you mine.”

“Then stop holding back.” You urged, your fingers clutching at his shirt as though afraid he might pull away.

Spencer’s response was immediate. His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you onto the desk with ease. His touch was everywhere—your hips, your back, your neck—each movement filled with a hunger that bordered on obsession.

“Tell me you want this.” He said, his voice low and commanding as his lips brushed against your ear.

“I want this,” you breathed, your hands tangling in his hair. “I want you.”

His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense. “You have me,” he promised, his voice rough with emotion. “You’ve always had me.”

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There were no rules, no boundaries—only the two of you, finally giving in to the undeniable pull that had been drawing you together all along.

He is the first to break the silence, his voice low and husky.

"Tell me what you want."

You hesitate for a moment, the words stuck in your throat. Then, quietly, you say, "I want you, Spencer."

He moves closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "Tell me exactly what you want."

You swallow, feeling your heart rate quicken. "I want you to touch me, Spencer."

"Where do you want me to touch you?" He murmurs.

"Everywhere." You whisper, leaning into his touch.

He traces his fingers down your neck, his touch featherlight. "Here?"

You nod, your breath hitching as his fingers ghost over your collarbone.

He moves his hands down further, trailing his fingers across your chest. "I need words, sweet girl."

"Yes," You breathe, feeling your arousal growing.

He hums in approval, hands moving lower still, caressing the curve of your breasts. "And here?"

"Yes…" You repeat, arching into his touch.

He cups your breasts through your shirt, squeezing gently. "What about here?"

"Please…" You whimper, your voice barely audible.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "What else do you want, Y/N? Tell me."

You can feel your face flushing, but you can't stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth. "I want you to take my clothes off, Spencer. I want you to touch me everywhere."

He lets out a soft groan, his hands moving to unbutton your shirt. "God, Y/N. I've wanted you for so long."

Your shirt falls to the floor, leaving you exposed. His eyes roam over your body, hungrily taking in every inch of bare skin.

"You're so fucking beautiful." He murmurs, his fingers tracing patterns across your stomach.

You gasp as he leans in and presses a kiss to your neck, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. His hands move lower, dipping below the waistband of your jeans.

"Spencer…" You moan, your hips bucking against his touch.

"Yeah, baby? What is it, sweet girl? Tell me what you need." He breathes, his fingers dancing along your inner thigh.

"I need you." You whimper, desperate for more contact.

He pulls away from you, his hands moving to undo his belt. He pulls his pants down, his hard cock springing free. Tip flushed pink, the same shade as his swollen kiss-bruised lips. He grabs your hips and lifts you onto the desk, his body pressed against yours.

"Is this what you want?" He asks, his voice rough with desire.

"Yes." You gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He pushes his cock against your entrance, his eyes locked on yours. "Say it, Y/N. Say you want me."

"I want you, Spencer." You moan, feeling him slide into you.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groans, thrusting into you. "You're so tight."

You cling to him, your nails digging into his back as he drives into you, again and again.

"Feels s’good." You babble, feeling the tip of his cock deep in your cervix, his hand coming down to rub calculated circles on your clit.

Spencer was a man of logic, of knowledge. But nothing could have prepared you for how skillful his hands could be in such a sinful context, hands you’d spent hours marking into the pages of your notebooks.

He fucks you harder, his pace frantic. "Such a pretty pussy, Y/N." He groans, dipping his head into your neck to nip at your skin.”My pretty pussy.” He delivers a quick slap to your pussy, sending a shock of pleasure through you, clit throbbing painfully.

"Oh, god, Spencer…" You cry, your orgasm quickly approaching, unable to stop it no matter how much you want to prolong the feeling.

“You wanna cum for me, baby? Cum all over my cock?” He stares down at you with a look you know will be ingrained in your mind for as long as you breathe.

It doesn’t take long before your orgasm crashes over you, pulsing through you in waves, back arching off the bed as you reach out for anything to ground yourself. Hands finding the back of his head, pulling him into your chest. 

He follows soon after, his cock pulsing inside you as he empties himself into you, collapsing on top of you, his chest heaving.

You look up at him, your eyes bright with satisfaction. "Do you think it was worth it?"

He smiles, stroking your hair. "I’d do it all again if it meant I could have you this way just one more time."

The first rays of dawn filtered through the blinds of Spencer’s apartment, casting faint golden stripes across the room. You stirred slightly in his arms, your body cocooned in the warmth of his embrace. Spencer had always been a light sleeper, but he hadn’t moved all night. His arms remained securely around you, as if even in sleep, he was afraid to let go.

For a moment, the world was still, the only sound was the gentle hum of the city waking up outside. In the quiet, you allowed yourself to revel in the stolen tranquility. These moments were fleeting, precious—time you carved out in secret, hidden from the eyes of the world.

“You’re awake.” He murmured, his voice low and rough with sleep.

You tilted your head back to look at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “So are you.”

“I don’t think I slept much,” he admitted, his fingers brushing idly along your arm. “It’s hard to sleep when I know every moment with you has to be hidden.”

You frowned slightly, guilt tugging at you. “I hate it too,” you said softly. “I hate that we have to pretend in class, that I can’t just... be with you without worrying who might see.”

His hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. They were warm, but behind the softness lay a steel determination. “It’s not forever,” he promised. “The semester is almost over. Once you’re no longer my student, no one can question us. No one can tell me it’s wrong to feel this way about you.”

You leaned into his touch, comforted by his words but still anxious about the risks. “Do you ever think about what would happen if someone found out?”

“Every day,” he admitted without hesitation. “But I think about losing you more. And that’s a risk I can’t take.”

The weight of his confession settled over you, heavy and grounding. You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “I’d risk it all for you, Spencer. You know that, right?”

He nodded, his expression softening as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “I know. And I’d do the same for you. But until it’s safe, we have to be careful.”

The reminder of the outside world, of the boundaries you had to navigate, was sobering. Yet it didn’t dampen the connection between you. If anything, it strengthened your resolve.

Days in class were an intricate dance of restraint and subtlety. You sat in your usual spot, taking notes diligently as Spencer lectured at the front of the room. His demeanor was calm, professional, every word deliberate. To the untrained eye, he was simply your professor, and you, his attentive student.

But beneath the surface, every glance, every fleeting moment of eye contact held a world of unspoken words. When he paused to scan the room, his gaze lingered on you a fraction too long. When he walked past your desk, the faintest brush of his presence sent a shiver down your spine.

After class, you remained behind under the pretense of asking a question. The other students filed out, their chatter fading as the door closed behind them.

Spencer glanced at you, his professional mask slipping slightly as he leaned against the desk. “Is this about the assignment?” He asked, his tone neutral but his eyes betraying a flicker of warmth.

“No,” you admitted, lowering your voice. “I just... I wanted to see you.”

His lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, and he nodded toward the door. “Wait for me outside. I’ll finish here and meet you in the library.”

The library had become your haven, a place where the world’s watchful eyes couldn’t reach you. Tucked away in the farthest corner, surrounded by shelves of dusty books, you found refuge in each other’s company.

Spencer sat across from you, his hand resting lightly over yours on the table. “You know,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the library, “this hiding... it’s maddening. But there’s something exhilarating about it too.”

You raised a brow, your lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Oh? Dr. Reid enjoys breaking the rules?”

A low chuckle escaped him, his fingers brushing against yours. “When it comes to you? I’ll break every rule there is.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, you simply looked at him, your heart swelling with a mix of love and longing. “One more month,” you whispered. “Then no more hiding.”

“One more month,” he echoed, his voice filled with quiet determination. “And then I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

Until then, you would continue this delicate balancing act, cherishing the stolen moments and weathering the secrecy together. Because in the end, he was worth it. And you knew that no matter how many rules you had to break, how many boundaries you had to navigate, you would never let him go.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[hwallazia]

HOT TO GO – 김홍중

⋆ synopsis. during a xmas eve dinner with your family, your best friend disappears. concerned, you search the entire apartment complex, only to stumble upon him watching porn alone. unable to resist, you decide to tease him a bit about it.

pairing. best friend! kim hongjoong & fem! reader.

wc. 2,9k

warnings. smut (mdni!), F2L, soft dom! hongjoong, suggestive language, cussing, liquor consumption, getting caught obviously, teasing & flirting, porn watching (this whole thing is porn but wtv), auralism?, getting interrupted ughhh, hongjoong comes on reader’s face and tits, praise, dirty talk, nicknames (pretty boy, pretty, attagirl & more), blowjob, implied cum eating but not explicitly written, an awful attempt at comedy in the end.

nic’s notes ⋆ second of the event & december’s already ending, i knoww (ᵕ—ᴗ—) i’ll finish the event in january i promise !! i really don’t like how this came out, but i couldn’t leave y’all without a christmas gift! merry xmas, loves <3

living room, dining room, bathroom, backyard, even inside the fucking oven. you had searched everywhere for hongjoong, and yet he’s nowhere to be found.

just an hour ago, you were enjoying some drinks with him, the strong alcohol of the tequila burned your throat deliciously, and the surroundings only caused the liquor to impact you even harder. small bright lights provided dim and comfy lighting to the room for those who were under the influence already — which were probably your uncles, who actually were spending a lovely time playing some drinking games. your mother and her sisters were chatting pleasingly near the kitchen aisle, your aunt looking for a new bottle of red wine only meant that the conversation was going to last longer than what anyone could predict, whereas your grandma was nowhere to be seen — she probably headed to her bedroom to get some well-deserved sleep, your mother had already forced her enough to stay awake past midnight.

“so yeah, that’s pretty much it. never met up with that bitch again, she prolly moved to somewhere far from here since i never heard from her again either. or well, at least that’s what i’m manifesting.” you summarized, chuckling at the end before you chugged another sip of tequila. hongjoong stared at you intently, one brow up, as your throat bobbed up and down with one smooth gulp.

“you sure are going hard on that tequila,” he said whilst glancing at your drunken irises. the way you frowned your brows and cringed almost made him laugh. how cute.

“excuse me, you’re the one who hasn’t drank one sip.” you deadpanned, a low laugh escaping his lips unintentionally as he covered his mouth with the back of his hand; his body rocking forward, driven by habit. “c’mon, let’s get you a drink. a cocktail for starters.” you said without giving him a chance to defend himself, grabbing his forearm as you led him towards the kitchen, where an exasperating and almost unbelievable collection of bottles, full of any kind of liquid you could imagine. your mind was already scheming what to prepare for your dear best friend; some vodka mixed with any energetic drink that you could find in the fridge seemed like an excellent idea.

but you could never fathom what your dear friend’s mind was envisioning, nor what held his eyes so intently. while you walked him whenever you were taking him, your cute ass was swinging, side to side in a smooth motion that had him going nuts. actually, if you held a gun against his head and asked him if he had thought about anything else that night, he’d let you shoot him, because he could never fathom the thought of you finding out how much of a pervert he was. but it was true though, the way that black, tight, and short dress hugged your figure made him salivate all over himself like a dog, the nastiest one. your curves were to die for, and hongjoong would gladly prove it — just so you know. god, what wouldn’t he give for just one night with you—to hold those hips with his own palms.

but that’s his secret. so shush.

hongjoong just couldn’t handle the view anymore. he halted you when he sank his heels onto the wooden floor, and with a deep sigh, he crafted the best excuse he could muster. you gyrated your head and let go of him when he began speaking. oh here we go. “wait, i actually have to go to the bathroom.” you glared at him, not believing a single word that was coming out of his mouth. “it’s an emergency!” he yelped in a surprisingly high-pitched voice, quite amusing to hear.

“fine. i’ll just pretend that you actually wanna go to pee and that you’re not a pussy that can’t handle a round of drinks with me.” you scoffed in a teasing manner, an almost invisible smirk showing up on your lips as your hand positioned on your hip.

“i’ll take the blame.” he sentenced, putting relaxed hands in the air as if he was being accused of committing a crime — and to be honest, he was just about to commit one.

after that, he headed towards the bathroom, your eyes followed his figure as it disappeared into the large, bright lighted corridor. with a sigh and an unopened bottle of tequila in your hands, you made your way back to the kitchen, determined to join the endless conversation that was taking place in its aisle. you aunt jessica looked in your direction, and when her blue irises landed on the delicious tequila that you had with yourself, she couldn’t help but let out a squeak sharp enough to shatter glass, immediately inviting you to participate in their talk with a smile plastered on her face.

you had to do something while hongjoong was gone after all.

but an hour had passed, and the conversation had turned rather depressing, your maternal aunt’s marriage problems overshadowing the happy, joyful christmas vibes. you needed to find hongjoong; otherwise, this conversation would only fry more brain cells than it already had. you exhaled as you rose from your seat, a glass of red wine resting in the palm of your hand gracefully — or you also could call it the other reason why you’d wake up with a mind-scattering headache.

“excuse me, i’ll go upstairs real quick,” you announced to the six ladies that you had just chatted with.

“darling!” your mother stopped your movements. “where’s hongjoong? haven’t seen him in a while now.”

“i don’t know. i was wondering the same thing just now.” you paused briefly. “i’ll go find him.”

normally, you’d find him in the backyard, playing with your younger cousins — to be honest, he nailed the role of the cousin way better than you. but strangely, he wasn’t, which only led you to do what you’d normally call research because at this point, the man had either gone invisible or was aiming for the world record in the longest game of hide and seek. at least, ten minutes passed and he was still missing.

you dragged your feet towards the bathroom, the tiredness of being in a tight and rather short dress and high fucking heels with your best friend missing as a bonus started to hit you. as you made your way to the guest bathroom, you passed by your bedroom, but something odd happened to catch your attention. a weird light was coming out of your room and you were absolutely sure you had turned everything off and closed the door—you didn’t want any babies sleeping in your beloved bed, for god’s sake.

your feet move backward in a quite amusing motion, your body now standing in front of the semi-open wooden door. with a cocked brow, you peeked through the crack in the door and saw hongjoong’s figure laying on your bed; back facing the door. as the gorgeous, lovely, and very funny best friend that you are, the only idea that came to your mind was to surprise him. little did you know that he was the one who surprised you.

with slow, cautious steps you approached his lying body. you noticed he was watching something on his phone, the bright white light from the device illuminating his face, yet his shuddering pants were the thing that caught your eye.

and one or two steps were more than enough for your eyes to finally and fully take in the scene unfolding before you.

your best friend was jerking off while watching porn. in your own house, in your own bed, in front of your goddamn eyes. and fucking hell, you could clearly see his dick grazing your blankets in a slow, sluggish tempo.

now, in this situation you have two options: either get mad at him and yell at him for being a pervert and a lunatic, and never speak to him again for ruining everything up only because of being an idiot for doing that in such an inappropriate place and situation and day and just everything,

or

help him.

“well hey there.” you purred as you grazed the sides of his undone pants, his hand flew away from his hardened cock as well as his phone, which glided through thin air; a heavy and rough thud reverberated through the walls—a crack on its screen is guaranteed. wide open brown eyes stared at you, a pinkish, tender blush creeping up his cheekbones. “i was feeling kinda lonely out there, y’ know?”

your velvety tone tickled his spine, delicious goosebumps creeping up his limbs. “yn, w-what’re you doing here.” a breathless hongjoong spoke, trembling hands trying to put his dick back inside that wrinkled, damp, and surely uncomfortable fabric.

“that’s what i should be asking, don’t you think?” a little chuckle penetrated hongjoong’s mind, it took everything from him to not grab you by the arms and kiss the shit out of you. at this point, the poor man is delirious—thankfully, your soothing, reassuring hand calms his nerves down when you rested your palm over his. well, sort of. “heeeyy, already cutting the fun short? don’t tell you’re that much of a wet blanket.”

you got on your knees greedily before your hand glided over his dampened length, first rubbing his girth and then his cocktip smoothly. hongjoong hissed before cursing under his breath. “why’re you doing this.” he couldn’t help but ask, though it wasn’t as if he had any intention of stopping now. if you were going to start something, you’d better see it through. he adjusted his position, finally sitting properly whilst giving you enough space to do your work.

you chuckled as you glanced up at him, doe-eyes stabbing daggers into his heart, mind, and soul. “is it so bad that i don’t want you to go back there with a boner inside those pants?”

a low, growly fuck was shot into your eardrums when your thumb slid over his now leaking tip, trembling fingers almost digging holes into your sheets. “i could do it on my own—nguh” a gravelly moan sent shivers down your spine as soon as you swirled your tongue around the trail of precum his tip was spreading over his hard-on.

“y’ sure you could?” he couldn’t compete against your seductive voice and teasing touches. matter of fact, he couldn’t compete against you at all, not when you were so kind, sweet, sexy and just fucking stunning. the way this man was wrapped around your finger is fucking comical. with a deep sigh, he gave in to you.

“fuck no.”

“that’s what i thought.”

no other words needed to be said for you to swallow his whole length, his tip tickling the back of your throat. hongjoong’s head tilted back as he placed his right hand behind him for support, while the other rested gently on top of your head; fingers provided soothing massages to your scalp. you didn’t expect his moans to be so heavenly sweet, yet low and masculine, and they were impacting you in the most pleasant way; thighs started to rub together incessantly, in search of some friction, some relief.

“oh fuck thaaat’s it. you’re so sweet for doing this, so—ugh, fucking gorgeous.” dead eyes stared down at you, following your every movement, every gesture, every breath. his irises casted shadows over you, and a dark fire sparked within them.

and being totally honest, you were more than ready to lose yourself in them.

after some minutes of just pure sinful, wet sounds, your jaw was starting to hurt, causing you to get some of his girth out of your mouth unintentionally.

poor you, ‘cause hongjoong was already way too into it.

you felt how his palm applied light pressure down the crown of your head “oh c’mon pretty, you were doing so good before, what happened?” he cooed at you, a devilish expression ruling his eyes.

and did that smirk drive you over the edge. “i—“ his hand glided over your neck and pushed you all the way down, making you pathetically choke on his cock. tears filled your vision and soon began to stream down your cheeks, ruining your mascara—not that you were concerned about that, your red lipstick was all smudged anyway. spit dripped from the corner of your lips, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips with some hairs of his pubic zone.

what a view, hongjoong thought.

“attagirl.” he purred in a silky tone. all pain was gone in just a sec.

hongjoong could feel and hear everything. and when i say everything, i mean every fucking thing. the way your tongue danced over his tip, how it enveloped his length greedily and lapped at every bit of precum it could collect, or how you would whine when his cocktip hit that spot of your throat, how you’d gag around him and just how fucking sinful you sound and look with his dick in his mouth.

“you’re seriously gonna—ah be the death of me.” he heaved, that familiar coil was starting to form in his stomach and he was more than happy to give you every last drop of his load.

even though this may not be his ultimate fantasy, he’s more than content with what he’s receiving. he’d die happily when he gets to come inside you while in mating press. but let’s not get too excited.

“fuck—c’mon, joong. cum all over my face, i know you’re close.” you popped his cock out of your mouth so you could jerk it off properly, at a fast pace that had him seeing stars.

“god you’re—that gonna make me— shit!” he cussed as he jolted beneath you, under your control and intoxicating ministrations. with your poisonous irises and vicious manners, he came completely undone for you, because of you. tensed, muscly limbs and a deliciously arched back formed the scene that surely won’t leave your mind for the next two weeks. a satisfied moan of yours accompanied the melody of grunts that were escaping helplessly from his swollen lips—too reddened from biting them so harshly.

his hand replaced yours and began doing the same motion, but now angling his dripping tip towards you. “show me that pretty face and those pretty tits, cutie.”

what a pervert, you thought. and naturally, you wouldn’t have done so. but god, you were so fucking blissed out that you didn’t even think twice before popping your breasts out of that dark, fitted dress and presenting your face to him — totally surrendered to him like a slut.

the remaining white shots of cum spurted all over your face, a sinful string of that white essence connecting your lashes with your cheekbone, whilst a brief load of his seed painted your tits.

“fuck you’re kinky.” you deadpanned, giggling.

“guess you kinda have that effect on me,” he smirked, breathlessly. fuck, you want him to fuck you right now.

you smiled as you stood up just to push him onto the mattress, easily straddling his naked lap. “so, tell me.” dangerous grins were plastered on your faces. “why would ya be watching porn over here, behind my back…” your manicured nails traced scribbles on the exposed skin of his forearm, slowly shifting in an upward motion. “… when you have me.”

“well if i’m being honest, i had you,” he explained, confusion filling your mind. he chuckled at your tilted head and cocked eyebrow. “that specific pornstar has a similar voice to yours, and whenever she moaned…” his eyes drifted from your eyes to your lips. “she just sounds exactly like how i dream of you moaning.”

and that pushed you over the edge.

you pressed your clothed crotch against his unintentionally, your instinct to seek friction overpowering your senses. his dark, low chuckle penetrated your mind. he straightened his back as he sat correctly and enveloped your torso with his strong arms. with one deep, endearing look into your irises, he whispered with a honey-dripping voice. “can i fuck you, yn?”

“thought you’d never ask.”

a harsh knock at the door made both of you jerk. “yn! i know you’re in here! come on, we gotta take some pictures with the family! get outta there, you got two minutes.” the high-pitched, squeaky voice of your mother sentenced as if she was the goddamn FBI or something.

with a profound exhale, you stared at each other. “well, i don’t know about you, but i personally don’t want to fuck with a time limit. it’s not like i’m able to make you finish in two minutes. i don’t even know if i can finish in two min—“ you grabbed his lips with your fingertips, shushing him immediately.

he glanced at you with puppy dog eyes. “would you shut up for once?” you giggled. “okay, pretty boy, we’ll get there. now, let me clean myself up and change into some new clothes so i can go take the damn pictures before my mom splits me open.”

you sighed, unlike hongjoong who smiled like a little kid. “i’d like to split you open.”

you chuckled as you threw the nearest pillow to him. a muffled awh was heard and your heart sank a bit, in the most tender way. that foolishly in love kind-of smile just could not leave your face. “shut up, you romeo.”

| masterlist

[portraitsofguilt]

── # 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗗𝗔𝗧𝗘 jinx, caitlyn, sevika

content warnings.          18+ MDNI, sfw content, first date, just fluffy set ups ig, not proof read at all

author's note. so yes, i'm back with arcane, seems like it's on a whim but it's really just a warm up for watching the second season (I'm afraid to watching because if it finishes it's over forever) so please enjoy !!!

a first date with JINX is undoubtedly chaotic, thrilling, and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. she leads you to an abandoned part of zaun, a place she calls her playground. it’s a mix of neon-lit hideouts and industrial ruins, filled with makeshift swings, graffiti-covered walls, and maybe even a distant view of the lanes glowing softly in the smoggy night.

dinner? too boring for jinx. instead, she’s lifted some snacks from the last drop—they seem edible enough, though you’re not entirely sure—and she’s clearly far more excited about testing her experimental gadgets. watching your reactions as one of her inventions sparks and whirs unexpectedly is half the fun for her. she grins with delight every time you flinch, teasing you mercilessly while reassuring you (with questionable sincerity) that it’s probably safe.

after her impromptu "show and tell with dinner," she challenges you to a shooting competition. she hands you a quirky-looking gun she had pieced together herself, its design equal parts fascinating and terrifying. "let’s see what you’ve got," she taunts, her voice dripping with playful rivalry. she’s relentless with her teasing, goading you every time you miss a shot—which, admittedly, is often—but the laughter and energy between you feel strangely genuine. beneath all her chaos and bravado, there’s a surprising amount of charm.

the night takes a quieter turn when she takes you to a swing set she’s rigged up in the middle of the ruins. here, jinx lets her guard down—just a little. she points out the graffiti sprawled across the walls, sharing the small stories behind each piece. it’s clear that beneath her explosive tendencies lies a deep love for creativity and art, even if her version of "art" tends to involve detonations. you catch glimpses of her vulnerability in these moments, and it feels like a rare privilege to see this side of her.

by the end of the date, the inevitable happens: the chaos has drawn the attention of the enforcers. as their searchlights sweep through the ruins, jinx grabs your hand, laughing as she pulls you into a rooftop escape. your heart pounds as you both leap from one building to the next, but for her, it’s all part of the fun. once you’re safely out of sight, she collapses onto the roof, laughing uncontrollably while you try to catch your breath and calm your nerves.

"that was fun!" she says between giggles, her eyes sparkling with genuine delight. then, in a rare moment of sincerity, she adds, "i actually enjoyed myself. that doesn’t happen often."

she hands you one of her gadgets as a parting gift. "here," she says, smirking. "a little souvenir. but don’t press the red button… unless you’re ready for round two."

as unpredictable as the night was, you walk away knowing you’ve just shared something unforgettable. and jinx? she’s already hoping you’ll take her up on the offer for a second date.

the date starts at one of her favorite underground bars in zaun. she shows up a little late—fashionably so, she claims—leaning against the doorway with her usual cool demeanor. but there’s something off tonight. her smirk is a little too forced, her banter just a little too sharp, like she’s trying too hard to play it cool.

she orders drinks for both of you, and as the evening goes on, the cracks in her facade start to show. her metal arm taps nervously against the bar, her laugh comes a beat too late, and when you call her out on it—gently, of course—she grumbles something about "not being used to this kind of thing." her cheeks flush, and she looks away, muttering, "don’t make it weird."

but as the drinks flow and the conversation deepens, sevika starts to relax. she opens up about the bar's history, sharing stories of the fights she’s won and the people she’s met. at one point, she even challenges you to a game of pool. “don’t think i’m gonna go easy on you just ‘cause it’s a date,” she warns, but her grin is less guarded now, more genuine.

you surprise her by holding your own in the game, and she can’t help but laugh when you almost beat her. “almost impressed,” she teases, though the way her eyes linger on you says otherwise.

as the night winds down, the bar grows quieter, and so does she. she leans back in her seat, nursing her drink, and for a moment, she looks vulnerable. “this was... nice,” she admits softly, barely audible over the hum of the jukebox. “i don’t usually do... this.”

before you can respond, she stands abruptly, her tough-girl persona snapping back into place. “come on,” she says, offering you her hand. “let me walk you home. it’s late, and this part of town isn’t safe.”

the walk back is surprisingly quiet, the tension between you mellow and warm now. when you reach your door, sevika hesitates, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly. “so... uh, maybe we can do this again sometime?” she asks, avoiding eye contact.

you smile, and she finally meets your gaze. there’s that nervous energy again, but this time, it’s endearing. with a rare, genuine smile, she adds, “just... don’t expect me to be less awkward.”

as she turns to leave, you call her name, and when she looks back, you kiss her—a bold move that leaves her completely stunned. for a moment, she’s frozen, but then she smirks, her confidence flickering back to life. “careful,” she says, her voice low. “i might get used to this.”

she turns away, her silhouette disappearing into the night, and you’re left standing there, heart racing, wondering if this was just the beginning of something unforgettable.

if you think with the riches CAITLYN has she would be a classic romantic, taking you out to a candlelit dinner for your first date—think again. she’s all about getting to know someone in their natural element. dying to escape the confines of her responsibilities, she’d been craving a chance to let loose and have some fun. so, she took you to the carnival she’d always missed as a child, thanks to absent parents and later, endless paperwork keeping her stuck in the office all night. (don’t worry—next time, she made good on the fancy dinner and candles.)

the day flew by faster than you expected, and you swore it didn’t feel like more than an hour together. you both indulged in fried foods and colorful beverages, laughing at how ridiculous some of the flavors were. the carousel—which caitlyn declared was childish and "not her thing"—ended up being her favorite ride, though she’d never admit it. and when it came to the target shooting games, there was no stopping her. she hit every single mark with precision, winning you so many prizes that the booth operator eventually refused to let you both continue.

the ferris wheel was the perfect end to the evening. as your shared booth reached the top, caitlyn leaned in and kissed you, the bright carnival lights reflecting in her eyes and the city sprawling beneath you.

the whole day was a whirlwind of laughter and carefree fun. by the time the sun began to set, you were both exhausted in the best way. before parting, caitlyn smiled and invited you on a second date, already making plans for what’s next.

[mjbarrosart]

My Dragon Prince Boards season 7, episode 705, part 2: The Moonberry Surprise.

It's true, the Moonberry Surprise moment, it is my fault

I hope you can forgive me for my sins. Hahahaha.

Ok, let's talk about this little sequence. But first, some... context?

Ok, so, Dragon Prince was my first job as Storyboard Artist, before coming to DPR I was working as a Storyboard Revisionist in Lego NinjaGo Crystalized. So I applied to Dragon Prince with not hopes that they will hire me, and when the offered my the job I was in awe.

So basically, I arrived to work in season 4 as a Junior Storyboard Artist. They gave me little sequences during season 4 (I was mostly helping my unit director with revisions) they gave me more during season 5 and 6, working on my strengths, emotional moments, long talking sequences and some combat. You know what was not there? comedy, because it was not one of the things I knew well how to do. But after a year and a half working in the show, I was seasoned enough to be a proper Storyboard Artist, not a rookie anymore. So they finally assigned me a comedy sequence.

I was terrified. Today after years in the industry, I can say that I am not scared of comedy anymore. But when I read the script and I realized that they were expecting a big comedy moment from me , I knew I was in trouble. But as they say, "you fake it until you make it" I took a deep breath and smile to my unit director like "Of course I can do this!"

But ok, lets talk about the sequence. We start nice, with the moon fam enjoying some time together. Was an opportunity to work with Runaan and Ethari, and that is always cool! I love how Ethari is just happy of everyone being there, and Runaan just wants to kill Callum (in an affectionate way, like he is just a protective dad, you know, a no nonsense dude)

So yeah, they talk a little and Rayla handles Callum a slice of Moonberry Surprise. Is like this almost mythical dessert that is said tastes like nothing else in all Xadia. And Callum is so excited to try it!

So, the script did not call for anything you saw in that sequence. The script instructed to reveal the Moonberry Surprise like something out of this world, and then have Callum almost having an epiphany when he tries it. My first idea was to have Calum almost levitating on his seat while eating it, while the rest of the moon fam looked at them in confusion. But during the launch of the episode (this is the stage where directors and in the case of DPR writers, tell SB artist what they want for every sequence we will board, we pitch ideas, and so on) was more clear to me that they were expecting something more of an "out of this world experience". Like the "I love books" moment that Callum had on season 5, episode 2, but on steroids.

So I was ok, lets make it as trippy as possible. So we have this fast zoom in into Callums face, that lead us into this "dimension of flavor" he is being transported to.

And he opens his eyes and he is floating in this space of color and flavor, his spirit being lifted by this experience.

He is experiencing all this flavors, eating this huge blue berries (this was my Unit director idea, Thanks Katherine!!), when something catches his eye. A figure, looking to him from the above, almost like a god.

And Callums looks up, revealing... this:

So, I have a really particular sense of humor (not unique, because I feel a lot of people share it, particular because really specific things make me laugh a lot). I was born late 80's grew up on the 90's with all the weird cartoons and anime of that time. For me adding muscular arms to things is the best joke ever.

This is peak humor to me:

So I was like, what if, Callum does the Titanic spinning thing, with a muscular slice of pie? So I did that... And I was SURE they will reject it.

So I finished my roughs, and I sent them to my Unit Director. She was "this is so stupid" (in the best way) so, she added some placeholder music, and send it for review from the directors, while both of us were expecting to have it rejected.

A couple of days after, our Storyboards Supervisor was like "WHO DID THE MOONBERRY SURPRISE SEQUENCE??" And I was like "me?", and he was like "Aaron LOVED IT!" and I was like "?????" so, yeah, was approved.

So yeah, that is my legacy, I guess. I am Runaan in this shot:

So well, those are all my sequences in episode 705.

Sorry again for being responsible for the birth of that thing. But that is my son now, and I kinda love him, even if he looks like that....

Next post will be my last! So yeah, stay tunned for my last post about my boards in The Dragon Prince, episode 708!

[keferon]

Hmmmm. New infection: Blurr/Swerve

Your writing has radioactive qualities but in a comic book super powers granting kind of way.

Merry Christmas from me to you.

———————————————————————

There was single spark of Christmas in the deepest dark of space. Far, far from the warm fire of Earth.

With the sort of warmth reserved for children’s holiday specials, Swerve and Jazz exchanged small improvised gifts.

Prowl also participated, with all the stone cold concentration of a bomb defusal.

Turns out, there was a decent amount of dropped shanix down various vents that Jazz had gotten a hold of. Swerve helped him pick up a gift for Prowl the next time they stopped at a trade depot. It was some of the most fun he’d had since waking up.

Prowl. ALSO, required Swerves help in picking out a gift for Jazz.

Never, never, never again.

Later, Swerve would watch as Jazz helped Prowl loop a striped scarf over his shoulders and across one half of a chevron, laughing and smiling all the while.

Swerve wasn’t jealous. No no no. He really was happy for them! He was! And maybe a little sad.

Prowl nodded at something Jazz said and took his leave to head back to his, their hab suite. Jazz jogged over to where Swerve had been slowly been drilling a pen into the drawing pad Jazz gotten for him.

“So you going to go see them?”

Swerve abruptly dropped the pen and flattened a hand over the sketch he’d definitely not made of the person he totally wasn’t thinking about.

“Whaaaat? No, no I’m sure they’re fine. Not! That I was still thinking about him! THEM.”Swerves optics darted rapidly from Jazz to the drawing, making sure any evidence was fully concealed.

“Besides, I’m not gonna leave you alone on Christmas Eve.” He said a bit more seriously, remembering Jazz’s current isolation. Unlike him, Swerve could visit Earth whenever wanted.

“Actually, Prowl was talking about some silent holovid earlier, so we were going to watch it tonight. It’s cool man, go check on your boo.”

Jazz looked, well, happy. And his field (wow, Swerve was still mind blown that humans had those the entire time) reflected that.

Swerve did a poor imitation of nonchalance. “I mean, only if you’re totally sure.”

Jazz put his hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet a little, “Hmmm, you could always join Prowl and I for the holovid. You know, the one we’re gonna watch together? Inside his room?”

HA!

Hahahahhaha!

Oooooh Swerve saw THAT trap and did not need the stress induced nightmare fuel that’d surely come from third wheeling on a date with Prowl.

The Christmas Shopping was enough.

With Jazz’s blessing, and Prowl’s glaring, seriously he could feel it through the wall, Swerve wished them a Merry Christmas and went to his room. Just a little bit quicker than necessary.

———————————————

Blurr’s hospital was one of those really fancy ones that looked more like a hotel room from the right angles.

There were simple decorations, extra furniture like a nightstand and a small couch, as well as fairly thick curtains framing a large clear window.

Christmas lights were strung up outside, adding to the ambient glow of the city lit up below. Snowflakes drifting through the air fuzzed the details. Made everything a little soft.

Swerve zeroed in on closing the curtains out of habit.

“Leave th-“

Swerve shrieked, nearly clipping through a wall with how hard he jumped.

Lying on his good side on the couch, Blurr merely blinked at him slowly before finishing his sentence.

“Leave the curtains open, please.” He pulled a blanket that didn’t look thick enough a little more securely over his shoulder.

Blurr didn’t resume looking at the falling snow, instead he took Swerve in with a half lidded eye.

“So are you my ghost of Christmas past, present or future?”

Swerve was uncomfortably reminded of how he looked at the moment. Colorless, grainy and mostly transparent. Slowly, he turned up the sliders on his holoform. “Heh, uh, option D? None of the above?”

Blurr didn’t have an IV in, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still on some other form of painkillers. Either way, he seemed a little more aware than what Swerve was prepared to deal with.

So why was he moving to get Blurr a better blanket?

Eh, he probably won’t remember this, but his recovery will. Swerve rationalized. He thinks I’m a Christmas ghost anyways, it’s just a dream to him.

When Swerve was almost out of sight, he was stopped by a small, “Stay?”

Swerve stayed.

He shuffled where he stood, Blurr continued to look at him. Slowly, the former racer tried to sit up.

Swerve was there right away, moving softly as he helped him up. In order to support Blurrs weight as best as possible, Swerve ended up sitting halfway onto the couch where Blurr had been laying.

Blurr placed a hand on his arm for support, and when he was most of the way upright, Swerve felt him sigh and rest all of his weight onto his holoform.

Comfortable.

Trapping him.

Holoforms can’t explode right?

Swerve was living both his greatest fanfic dream as well as his second greatest real life nightmare. He really, really hoped holoforms couldn’t explode. Fuck knows he’d put this poor man through enough.

How many layers of guilt were there again? There’s the initial parasocial idolization thing. There was the time Blurr saw all of his destroyed merchandise. So he thinks Swerve hates him. Did. He did actually hate him. Not really, but he wanted to. Oh and then Swerve left him for dead! Because he treated him like he wasn’t an actual living person who could feel fear! Or pain! Or. . . Alone.

On Christmas.

Swerve got a little more settled onto the couch, letting Blurr use him as his personal cushion a bit more comfortably. Leaning his head on his shoulder, Blurr was watching the snow again.

“When I was a child, I spent every Christmas at a ski lodge to the north” Blurr spoke quietly enough that the silence stayed resilient.

“I’d stay up late, watching the snow drift down through the mountain lights for hours. It felt a lot like this.” Blurr’s eye was fluttering more and more the longer he spoke. Each time it closed, Swerve could see the effort it took to open again.

Blurr, readjusted his body one last time me. Then mumbled. “You’re very warm for a ghost.”

Swerve, desperately, wished he could remember a single smart thing he’d ever written. “I got a slider for that.”

Swerve was going to find the self destruct button.

Blurr snorted a genuine single laugh. His eye had closed and he’d stopped fighting. Gradually, Swerve felt him breath a little slower, sinking into him and the couch. Swerve held still, until all the screaming, embarrassing panic in his mind resolved into white noise.

Swerve stayed for as long as he could. And when his time was almost up, he carefully lowered Blurr back onto the couch. Getting him a thicker blanket, and a non-Swerve pillow, for Christmas.

———————————————————————

- SSTP

"Prowl. ALSO, required Swerves help in picking out a gift for Jazz.

Never, never, never again."

LMAO

"Oooooh Swerve saw THAT trap and did not need the stress induced nightmare fuel that’d surely come from third wheeling on a date with Prowl."

AHAHAHAJFJGMGJGKRJ WHEEEEEEZE HELP

ANON. SSTP. DEAR. MY TREASURE. MY SWEET NUCLEAR POWER PLANT OF A WRITER. I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE THEM. BOTH JP AND BLURWERS. YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS TO BE THIS FUNNY AND CUTE /J

Also The scene with Blurr is just SO cozy auughhggj I wanna wrap them both in a blanket and send to the magic ski resort where nothing bad ever happens*

[evelinessa]

I decided to answer all of these! If you're interested in any of my answers, you can see them below! 🥰

1. How many fics have you worked on since January?

Five works published in total. Three were oneshots, two were ongoing fics that I posted chapters for. Five published chapters in total for those aforementioned works (1 chapter for a fic I started posting for last year; 4 chapters posted for a fic I started posting for this year). One work with a finished, abridged version written, but unpublished (for a zine). I will likely finish the extended version and post to AO3 sometime next year.

As far as for the number of WIPs… I haven't kept track. I've started and worked on so many WIPs this year. At least dozens, I'd say. Aside from a few, I haven't necessarily made much progress on them, but I still worked on them, even if it was just spending a few minutes to plan or jot down more ideas.

2. What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

Working on and starting to publish a longfic (In Another Life), if that counts. Though when I committed to starting to post it, the plan hadn't grown to longfic scope yet, so that was kinda accidental. Planning that fic (which I'm still doing), requires very extensive plotting beyond what I've done for anything else. I even invested in a plotting software just to make it a bit more manageable.

Another new thing I tried was in A Show of (Im)perfection, where I worked hard to make sure the scene transitions from when I go into a flashback and back to the present feel as seamless as possible, making the jump less jarring. This is usually from the character looking at or doing something in the past/present that continues or is followed up by something similar in the next scene (past or present).

One more possible new thing is that I spent more time in a dream/nightmare segment (A Demon's Justice chapter 4, WIP) and played around with the illogical nature of that/some symbolism. While I have written glimpses/short parts of dreams/nightmares before, it was the first time I did something longer and more continuous.

3. What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

I pretty much exclusively write for Ace Attorney, so that.

4. How many fandoms did you write for this year?

One: Ace Attorney.

5. What ships captured your heart?

It's always Mitsunaru/Narumitsu. My OTP out of any media. I'll always love them and want to create stories with them.

6. What characters captured your heart?

By extension of mainly writing my OTP, it would be the characters of the ship: Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth. Phoenix got to be the POV character of most of what I wrote this year, though Miles still had a turn. Miles is my absolute favorite character, so he captured my heart even if I wrote his POV less this year. I also got to write another fic from Trucy's POV, so she got to have some of the spotlight as well.

7. Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

Nope. Technically, I did start planning a WIP for a ship I haven't written before as part of a group project, but I haven't started actually writing it.

8. What fic meant the most to you to write?

It's still a WIP and not published yet, but probably The Last Day of Summer. It's a slice of life kidfic (featuring the Signal Samurai Trio) that is part one of a Narumitsu series centering around a park by the courthouse.

I love slice of life and I love fluffy kidfic. I get pretty self-indulgent and usually have a lot of fun writing it. The reason this WIP means so much to me though, is because it's something that has been in the works since around May 2021. It's also one of two story ideas I had about a year before I even started writing (both originated as comic ideas). I had already adapted the first of the two into a fic (Keeping Up Appearances) a long time ago, but this one I'm still working on. It has expanded and changed a lot since it was first conceptualized as a comic, and even when it was first outlined as a story.

9. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

The Last Day of Summer (still a WIP), for the same reasons stated in the previous question.

10. What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

I don't have many options, but probably (Just) A Haircut. It originally started as a fill for a prompt on Discord back in late 2022. I was motivated to expand and finish it for Narumitsu Week. I think it's satisfying to finally finish something that was started so long ago.

The fic I wrote for that previously mentioned zine was also originally inspired by a Discord conversation around the same time in 2022 (and also was greatly expanded during the writing process). I think that one is less satisfying for me since I still have to write the extended version at some point. So even though there is a finished version, it isn't truly finished for me.

11. What fic was the most difficult to write?

Possibly In Another Life, since the scope and how ambitious it is has been giving me trouble with plotting everything (and still not nearly done with the planning), even if the writing itself hasn't been particularly difficult (aside from the description-heavy scenes). Or it's the fic I wrote for that zine, as writing smut is incredibly difficult and stressful for me (plus it takes me forever to write).

12. What fic was the easiest to write?

Probably Where We Lay. I think I went from first thinking of the idea to being completely finished in a little over a week, all while forcing through the worst writer's block I've had. Unless something is only a few hundred words, I'm never able to write a fic (from first coming up with the idea to completion) in that short of a time frame, even in better circumstances than I was in.

13. What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

Shortest: Where We Lay at 2k.

Longest: In Another Life at 20.5k and 4/24 (but will likely have more chapters in the end) chapters posted.

14. What were your go-to writing songs?

I usually don't listen to anything while writing. I've sometimes listened to the AA orchestra CDs or the piano/some other remix ones, but I haven't done that in a long time. I think I've listened to a few songs with lyrics (especially on one of my fic playlists), but haven't done it enough to specify any go-to writing songs.

15. What was the hardest fic to title?

I don't have many options to choose from, but the one that took me the longest/was the most difficult was probably A Show of (Im)perfection. Where We Lay took me a bit too, but I don't think it took as long/was as difficult as A Show of (Im)perfection.

16. What's your favorite title of the year?

My favorite is probably A Demon's Justice, but since I technically didn't title that one this year, I'll go with In Another Life instead. I mean, I technically didn't title that one this year either (had a much smaller version of this fic planned & titled since at least 2023), but it at least was posted this year.

17. Share your favorite opening line

Not sure if it counts since the first chapter was published last year, but the opening line for A Demon's Justice:

The trial’s climax fast approached, and the scales of justice were tilted in his favor—as expected.

I feel like that one is the most gripping compared to the first lines of my other published fics this year, or known first lines to WIPs I worked on this year.

18. Share your favorite ending line

It's A Demon's Justice again. While it's not the last line of the entire fic, it's the final line of the most recently published chapter (chapter 3) which was posted earlier this year:

And so, he found solace in one simple truth: Miles was exactly where he deserved to be.

19. Share your favorite piece of dialogue

I love dialogue! Not sure how short it should be to consider it a piece, but I've been quite fond of this exchange (from In Another Life chapter 2) ever since I wrote it. Here's the whole scene (it isn't too long):

20. Share your funniest line

Honestly, I don't really consider my stuff funny (humor isn't one of my strong points), but I do occasionally write lines/situations and banter that I find a bit humorous, or at least entertaining. It's also usually not a single line, since most of the humorous stuff I write happens in banter.

Several of Miles and Larry's interactions in my no DL-6, college AU WIP fic (where the Signal Samurai trio play Never Have I Ever together and get drunk) fit in that category. But YMMV on whether you find any humor in it or not. I would class it as more entertaining/amusing rather than funny, really.

I included several notable moments in this fic so far, especially since some build off each other (there are gaps between each screenshot with omitted text). This was just how Miles and Larry wanted to interact with each other in this fic. Miles and Larry kept wanting to argue (lightheartedly) and it was all unplanned. I had to keep reining the dialogue/direction of the fic back on track, because they would get into it with each other every so often and sidetrack the plot lol. One of the moments where I feel the characters are more in control than I am😂.

21. What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

Something for this year? I guess the biggest would be deciding to add a subplot/an additional POV (Miles') to In Another Life. It's the main reason I'm still heavily involved in planning that fic before I write more. The entire fic was originally planned without having access to Miles' POV in mind (including everything written and published so far).

It changes the story quite a lot, but at the same time, not too much. It's important for me to keep (or only minorly change) all my original planned plot points, especially the major ones and the planned ending/direction of the story. I want to stay true to my original vision as much as possible, while still taking advantage of what I can do with an additional subplot and POV.

I can explore characters and relationships that otherwise wouldn't be touched on much or at all (elevating at least one character from cameo to supporting character status). It also gives me more plot moments to work with and help spread out the relationship moments and bulk up the timeline. It also gave me more ideas for relationship moments, which definitely helps as I'm still trying to think of more romance and bonding moments to write.

The negative is it does impact some plot points and I have to think about how to still have them work well. I've also thought of so much for that subplot, that it feels less like a C plot and closer to an A plot, so I might have to think of stuff to add to bulk up my actual A plot.

22. What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

Scrivener mostly, as it's my main writing program. I've also used Google Docs a little, particularly when I was editing down and finishing what I wrote for that zine fic. I always do my final editing in Word, since the grammar/spellcheck is not as good in Google Docs and pretty much nonexistent in Scrivener. Also, I write into a private Discord server at times when I get some ideas I want to write down, as it's quicker and easier than opening Scrivener (I move it there later) and I can do it on the go. I've written a bit into Dropbox's text editor, as that is the workaround to access my Scrivener files on my Android phone. While I've written by hand before, I don't recall writing any fic by hand this year.

23. If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

This is such a hard question, because I don't feel like there is something that really sticks out to me, especially not something that I haven't mentioned in the answer to another question.

This might not be what the question is asking, exactly, but there is one writing-related thing that sticks out to me.

Without going into details, someone had reached out to me to tell me that something I'd written had resonated with them and reading the story had given them some comfort during a difficult time. I was—and still am—touched that something I wrote was able to help someone and provide some measure of relief, even if temporary. I wish them well.

24. Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

Not really. Mostly just relax and do something not related to writing for a bit. Sometimes I hold off on a treat or doing something else I want to do when I'm trying to finish something (mostly when I'm up against a deadline). If that's the case, then I can allow myself to enjoy it once I'm finished. Mainly, I just allow myself to enjoy the sense of accomplishment of finishing a story, as well as the dopamine hit from getting to share it and having other people read it/share their thoughts.

25. How did you recharge between fics?

Nothing specific, just relaxing/doing something unrelated to writing that I enjoy. Spending that time completely guilt free and without thinking about how I should be writing instead. This is especially the case if I finished writing something for a deadline (likely very close to the deadline), since I procrastinate a lot.

26. Did you create fanworks other than fic?

Yes! I completed one drawing (of Ema Skye), but it isn't posted anywhere (aside from in a couple Discord servers). That was after not really drawing anything for years. I want to do more, but I've gotten wrapped up into my writing and other things instead.

27. How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

One fic for the Narumitsu Big Bang 2024 (my first bang event), one fic for the Narumitsu ship week, one fic as part of a gift event for a friend's birthday, and two fics for zines. I also tried to take part in the Supernatural Mitsunaru Exchange & Fest 2024, but had to drop out, unfortunately.

28. If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

Anyone who read my works this year, anyone who left a kudos and especially a comment. Anyone who told me (whether on AO3, Discord, or on social media) that they liked something I've written. It's always encouraging to know that stories I've created have been enjoyed by others.

29. What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

Unless I surprise myself by coming up with and writing a very short fic idea, or making a lot of progress on one of my short WIPs, I don't plan, or expect, to have anything else finished or published this year.

I'd like to write at least a little more and make some progress on my WIPs, but I've been taking a bit of a break these last few weeks, so there's a chance I might not write anything else before the year ends.

30. What would you like to write next year?

Not sure about anything specific, but I'd generally like to work more on my existing WIPs. I'd love to finish and post the remaining chapters of A Demon's Justice. I'd also love to finally finish and post the first part of The Park by the Courthouse series, The Last Day of Summer, considering how I've been chipping away at it for years, and it's one of the first story ideas I had (before I even started writing fanfic).

A slightly revised version of last year's questions! Two ways to play: Reblog and have your followers send you numbers, or answer the whole list!

How many fics have you worked on since January?

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

How many fandoms did you write for this year?

What ships captured your heart?

What characters captured your heart?

Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

What fic meant the most to you to write?

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

What fic was the most difficult to write?

What fic was the easiest to write?

What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

What were your go-to writing songs?

What was the hardest fic to title?

What's your favorite title of the year?

Share your favorite opening line

Share your favorite ending line

Share your favorite piece of dialogue

Share your funniest line

What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

How did you recharge between fics?

Did you create fanworks other than fic?

How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

What would you like to write next year?

[sailorrhansol]

i'm a ho ho ho..... cheol/chan/reader.... bonus if chan is in a "learning" role and cheol is in charge of the whole thing :) :) :) my brain is a basic bitch i can't do anything with her

Pairing: Chan x Reader x Seungcheol

Summary: You always enjoy the office holiday party each year, especially when you get to do secret santa. This year, you enlist Seungcheol’s help to give Chan the perfect gift. 

Word Count: 5,632

Genre: PWP, Polyamorous, Established Relationship (Cheol x reader)

Type:  Smut

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Just pure filth honestly. Fucking in an office when they totally should not be, mention of power dynamics in the sense that Seungcheol is both Chan and reader’s boss but they kind of skip around that even though Cheol explicitly makes sure to let Chan know it’s okay to reject, semi-public sex if you count the fact they’re in an office, implied but not explicit dom/sub dynamics with Seungcheol as the dominant and reader/Chan as the more submissives, oral (f. receiving) and vaginal fingering, pussy drunk Chan, spitting, multiple orgasms, a little bit of overstimulation, some hair pulling, biting, a lot of heavy kissing and making out, it is a light threesome - this is mostly reader and Chan with Seuncheol very involved in instruction/kissing/touching them. Nickname use: baby for reader, Channie for Chan and one (1) Cheolie for Seungcheol

A/N: Mojo Jojo Siwa I love you so much. Happy belated birthday but also happy it-took-me-three-weeks-to-fill-your-request. I BELIEVE IN BOYS KISSING BOYS DURING THREESOMES SO IF YOU DON’T LIKE THAT SHIT GO AWAY. ALL SIDES OF THE TRIANGLE TOUCH IN MY WORLD BECAUSE BISEXUAL SUPREMACY. Anyway - here is this absolute filth and dream that Jo convinced me to write - I cannot be held accountable for how many times hands and mouth and spit are mentioned thank you 🫡

A/N 2: THIS IS UNEDITED BECAUSE I’M THE GRINCH AND I DON’T WANNA BETA READ MY OWN STUFF. SPELL CHECK WILL HAVE TO DO FOR RIGHT NOW. 

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Haliday’s Request Event

Nervousness creeps up as you watch Chan open up his gift, eyes zeroed in on the way his deft fingers peel back the wrapping paper carefully. Chan is always so careful, his touch delicate and precise, sliding his fingers under the seam of the paper to pry it open without ripping anything. 

Holiday music plays loudly over the speakers on someone’s desk. Everyone talks and sips on drinks, gathered around the conference room table as Chan finishes opening his git, shedding the wrapping paper. He’s already grinning, lower lip tucked between his teeth as he shakes his head, red creeping up the side of his neck. 

You try not to react, pleased to see that he likes the stack of limited edition books you’ve gifted him. He runs his fingers over the decorated edges, just as careful not to damage them as he was with the wrapping paper. You squirm in your seat, sipping more champagne to quell the dryness in your throat and give you more liquid courage. 

Someone places a hand on your shoulder and you spare a glance upward, though by the scent of the heady cologne you already know it’s Seungcheol. He’s watching Chan with a smirk, his dark hair pushed out of his face and his glasses sliding a little down his nose as he watches Chan look around the table, flushed and pleased. 

“This is way over the purchase limit,” he laughs, scratching the back of his neck and shaking his head. Mingyu lets out an impressed noise, leaning over to see the books and ask what they are. “They’re a limited edition and signed copy of my favorite fantasy series.” 

“Damn, someone likes you,” Mingyu mutters, sipping his beer. “Time to guess.” 

Chan’s eyes flicker to you. You hold your breath, your pulse thumping in your throat as you try not to avert your eyes. Chan’s eyes drift upward to Seungcheol, who you can feel is equally amused. There’s indecision on Chan’s face, his fingers drumming atop the stack of books. 

“Come on,” Mingyu urges. “Guess.”

Chan’s eyes return to you. Back to Seungcheol. Then to you again. You grin, watching as he tries to work out which one of you bought them. You’re the only person in the office who would know how much he valued that specific book series, but Seungcheol is the only one in the office who makes overspending and spoiling his employees a habit. 

Especially Chan. 

“Fuck, it’s hard,” he admits, gaze settling on Seungcheol, finally. “You, boss?” 

Seungcheol chuckles, the motion of it shaking the back of your chair. You can feel his thumb brushing back and forth on your shoulder, soothing and warm. It feels nice, the champagne turning his touch molten. 

“Nope,” Seungcheol answers, popping the ‘p’ sharply at the end. “Sorry, Channie.” 

Chan’s blush intensifies as he drops his gaze, shaking his head. He cradles the books close to him, possessive. He spares you a glance when he says, “Whoever bought these is far too nice of a santa. I don’t deserve this.” 

He does deserve it. Chan is the youngest member of your company and by far the hardest working and the sweetest. Over the last two years, you’ve watched him grow from the shy, nervous junior employee to a full time member of the staff who is… still shy, but a little more confident in his work with an incredible mindset. 

Sure, your opinion of him is a little bit biased. Chan is your work husband, the person you’re closest to and who you can always go to when you need to vent about Mingyu fucking up your spreadsheets or for help when you have a last minute firedrill to solve. 

Despite, of course, your actual boyfriend being a few yards away in his executive office. 

Seungcheol doesn’t mind that Chan is your work husband. In fact, he adores it, teasing you when you get shy after vehemently praising Chan during a meeting or nominating him to take more responsibility to prove himself. He likes that Chan has you to take care of him, to lead him through the corporate world when Seungcheol is too buried underneath meetings and paperwork to do so. 

Someone else starts opening a gift, but your eyes are reserved for Chan. You lean into Seungcheol’s touch, eyes fluttering when his hand moves from your shoulder to the back of your neck. His grip is firm, kneading the muscles along the back of your neck until you’re melting. Your grip tightens on the flute of champagne a little, the plastic nearly cracking under your grip. 

When secret santa has finished, you stand up to help gather the leftover wrapping paper. Coworkers filter out into the main office, turning up the music and dancing around the cubicles as another bottle is popped. You help shove wrapping paper into a trash bag with Joshua, feeling a little dizzy and warm from the bubbles. 

A hand on your lower back makes you straighten. Seungcheol leans down, mouth brushing against your ear when he murmurs, “Go wait in my office. I’ll bring Chan in for his real gift.” 

Your stomach flips at that. You glance at Joshua to see if he notices, but there is nothing to notice. Everyone knows that you and Seungcheol are together - you’ve been dating for five years. He limits his affection in the office, but it's not uncommon for him to press a quick kiss to your head or leave his hand lingering on you for too long. 

Clearing your throat, you nod and let Seungcheol take over balling up the wrapping paper. You’re not drunk but you feel the buzz of champagne and excitement as you hurry toward Seungcheol’s office at the far end, away from where everyone has gathered around Soonyoung’s cubicle to take shots. 

Inside of Seungcheol’s office is dark. The blinds are shuttered so no one can see from the main bullpen inward. Lights glitter beyond the floor to ceiling windows, the city awash in color underneath the light sky, giving the illusion that the world is blanketed in Christmas lights. 

A heavy desk sits in the far side of the room with towering bookshelves behind it. Seungcheol’s monitor is off and his leather chair is pushed into the desk. In front of the desk is a sitting area, equipped with a full leather sofa, glass coffee table, and two arm chairs. 

You go for the sofa, hands shaking as you sit down, pressing the hem of your skirt down your thighs. Swallowing thickly, your eyes dart toward the door when you hear the volume of singing suddenly increase out in the main office. You grin, shaking your head when you realize it’s because Seungkwan has figured out how to use his portable karaoke machine gifted to him by Jeonghan. 

Shadows pass by the window. You stiffen, leaning forward and placing your hands in your lap when Seungcheol opens the door, letting Chan enter first before he slips in after, flipping the lock. Chan immediately stops in his tracks, looking at you before his eyes dart back to Seungcheol. 

Your heart races, watching carefully as Seungcheol starts to undo his tie, slipping a finger underneath the knot to pull it, walking toward you. The action hypnotizes you, your attention solely on him as he finishes undoing it, tossing it onto an armchair before his fingers work the topmost button of his shirt loose.

He sees the nervous look on your face and he wings, his grin lopsided as he rounds the couch to stand behind you. 

“Take a seat,” Seungcheol tells Chan, his hand landing on your shoulder. You react instantly, leaning into the warmth of his hand, nuzzling his forearm a bit. Chan follows Seungcheol’s instructions, his steps slow and full of trepidation. “We don’t bite, Channie.” 

You huff and Seungcheol chuckles darkly in response, amending, “Usually.” 

Chan is the picture of anxiety, wringing his hands in his lap and looking up at Seungcheol through his glasses with wide eyes. His gaze darts to you only for a second before he licks his lips and looks back up at Seungcheol, shifting back and forth in the armchair as he watches the elder. 

“Relax,” Seungcheol laughs. “You’re not in trouble. I told you she had a second part to her gift.”

“The first one is too much,” Chan drops his gaze to you. He picks at his cuticles, showing he’s as nervous as you feel. “You shouldn’t have. The rules were no more than fifty dollars.”

“It was too good not to.” He softens. “I wanted you to have it.”

“You deserve it,” Seungcheol agrees. His hand massages your shoulder, fingers brushing across your skin. You shiver under his touch, watching Chan as his eyes zero in on where Seungcheol’s hand is on your neck. He licks his lips, shifting. “That’s not the only thing she wanted to give you, though.” 

Chan chews his bottom lip. You feel skittish, twisting your fingers in the hem of your dress. You and Seungcheol had broached this subject several times before, though this is the first time you’re committing to voicing your thoughts to Chan. 

Suddenly faced with having to give him your proposition, you’re terrified. What if he says no? Worse, what if you upset him or make him uncomfortable? It’s a huge risk, what you’re asking, especially with the position that Seungcheol is in as your boss. 

The weight of how bad of an idea this is hits you fully. You open and close your mouth, unable to voice your offer to him, the question dying on your tongue.

Seungcheol’s fingers are still on your shoulder. He leans down, tilting forward to catch your gaze with his. His eyes are dark and calm, a cool lake undisturbed by anything, a constant you can always look to when you’re afraid to do something. You root yourself in his gaze, letting his proximity wash over you, comforting. 

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself this question isn’t coming out of nowhere. Neither you nor Seungcheol would bring Chan here to the office in the dark, away from everyone else if you weren’t borderline positive what his answer would be. 

“I wanted to um…” Your voice is hoarse, cracking with nervousness. You swallow, dropping your eyes into your lap, feeling both of their gazes. “Jeonghan said you kind of had a crush on us.” 

You peek up at Chan to find him white in the face. His mouth parts in horror and you realize this isn’t going the way you planned, your nervousness driving you to the wrong path. 

Seungcheol sees it too, giving you a gentle squeeze and telling Chan, “What she means, but is very bad at saying because she’s nervous, is that she wanted to give you a taste.” 

Silence hangs heavy in the air. Outside of Seungcheol’s office, you hear Mingyu singing All I Want for Christmas Is You. It feels apt, both you and Seungcheol staring at Chan as he looks back at both of you, mouth parted in surprise, chest rising and falling with how heavy he’s breathing now.

“I don’t… understand,” he says finally, addressing Seungcheol. 

“I think you do.” Chan starts to shake his head and Seungcheol tsks, sending a lick of heat down to your core. You know that voice better than anything, and the sound of it turns the air heady. “You can say no. This is the worst place possible for us to be offering this to you and I understand the implications of it coming from… well me. You’re under no obligation and we can go on pretending it didn’t happen.” 

“Jeonghan didn’t mean to tell me.” you tell Chan. “But when he did… I wasn’t mad. I told Cheol and he was pleased to.” You look up at Seungcheol, who smiles at you affectionately. His hand drifts to the back of your head, cradling it carefully. “He likes you too. And me - I like you.” 

“You like me?” 

You nod eagerly as Seungcheol grips your head and faces you back toward Chan. “So I was thinking… you could have an extra gift. If you wanted it. To see if you liked it.” 

“And what does… a taste involve?” Chan asks the question softly, his eyes flickering between you and Seungcheol. “Help me understand better.” 

“Her,” Seungcheol answers. “Whatever you want.” He pauses and smirks, adding, “You’re not ready for me. So just her… for now, if you want.”

Multiple emotions flit past Chan’s face. Confusion. Fear. Indecision. Anxiety. Desire. 

You see the desire there, the way he settles his eyes on you, dark and swimming with want. He doesn’t move, the silence filling the room as Seungcheol let’s Chan choose. You feel your own desire welling up inside of you, a shy and skittish thing that is perhaps too breakable to be offering this way. 

Chan is your mirror. You can see yourself in him, the want that lurks beneath a shallow surface, a fragile thing that he wants to handle but is too afraid that it’ll shatter. You lift a hand from your lap, reaching forward, palm up. Reaching for Chan, reaching for the thread that connected you since the first day he started. 

Your hand wavers there for a second, an invitation, a moment of vulnerability. Just when you think he’s going to reject you, Chan surges forward slowly, extending his hand toward yours. A smile lights up your face, growing even wider when his fingers tentatively skate over yours, rough and unsure. 

Tugging on him gently, you urge Chan from the armchair toward the couch. He’s like a frightened animal, eyes darting toward Seungcheol like he might intervene when he sits next to you, close enough to smell his juniper cologne but farther than you want him to be. 

Seungcheol lets go of your shoulder, walking around the opposite side of the couch. Chan looks at Seungcheol, alarm on his face. The elder chuckles roughly, sitting on your other side a little ways away and murmuring, “Relax, Channie. I’m just sitting down.” 

To further ease his anxiety, you pull Chan’s hand into your lap, lacing your fingers and squeezing. He looks at your linked fingers, marveling at them. It takes him a moment, but he squeezes your hand in return. 

“Can you look at me?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

He does. Chan finally looks at you, gaze raw and burning. Your toes curl when you see the amount of want there, the way his need is right on the surface, simmering. His eyes trace your features, scanning your face to the curve of your neck, dipping lower, lips parted as he drinks you in full. 

“What… What now?” He asks, dragging his eyes back up to yours. 

“Try kissing her.” Seungcheol leans back behind you, supervising. His voice is gentle and coaxing. “She likes kissing.” 

Chan looks at you, asking for permission. You smile, nodding eagerly as you tug on his hand. He obeys, sliding closer to you, thigh pressed against yours. Even through the fabric of his pants, you can feel the heat of his leg wash through you, intoxicating. 

He leans in slowly, his eyes darting toward your mouth as he does. You meet him halfway, breath shaking as you softly press your lips against his. His lips are soft and tentative, nose brushing yours gently. You sigh, leaning into the kiss, making it a little firmer. 

It’s innocent, but you feel the way his fingers tighten in yours, a gentle sound stuck in the back of his throat. You pull away slightly, lashes fluttering open to peer at him. You see your half-lidded eyes in the reflection of his glasses until he opens his eyes.

The urge to have him grows tenfold. Chan’s pupils are blown, the hungry look in his eye raw and real. It makes you surge forward, kissing him for real, letting the hunger for him channel through your mouth. He makes a sound low in the back of his throat, desperate and whiny as you school closer, leg looping over his to keep him in place. 

Letting go of his hand, you bring it up to his face, threading your fingers through his hair. His mouth is warm and wet as he kisses you slowly, tasting of champagne and the frosting of the cupcake he had earlier - sweet, just like him. 

Kissing Chan is unlike kissing Seungcheol. Chan is sweet and slow, running his tongue against the seam of your mouth tentatively while his hands go to your thighs, barely giving you a squeeze. Seungcheol’s kisses are demanding and all consuming, bruising your lips as he swallows you whole. 

Parting, Chan kisses the corner of your mouth, hesitating and glancing over your shoulder where he can no doubt see Seungcheol. Seungcheol must reassure him, because Chan smirks and leans forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. 

Your head falls back, lips parted. His tongue is rough against your skin as he tastes you, a mix of tongue and teeth working toward your neck. Your fingers twist in his hair, blunt nails scraping at his scalp and making him groan quietly. 

“She likes when you bite her a little,” Seungcheol supplies from behind you. You feel the couch shift as he moves closer, his warmth radiating toward you as he settles directly behind you. His voice makes you shiver when he says, “Right under her ear - yeah like that.” 

Chan’s teeth nip at the soft flesh under your ear and you keen, melting at his touch. He grows more confident at the sound, his hands drifting to your waist, squeezing and holding you tight. You lean backward into the heat of Seungcheol, trapped between the two of them. 

It makes you dizzy. Seungcheol is firm behind you, keeping you pressed toward Chan, who is kissing his way to your shoulder, eager for more of you. One of his hands runs up your side, sliding up your arm until it settles on the side of your neck, his fingers gently pulling you to give more access. 

You keen and Seungcheol laughs behind you, muttering, “Hear the little sounds she makes? She loves when you touch her neck.” 

“Mmmm.” Chan presses kisses to the tops of your shoulders, looking up at you through his glasses. “What else does she like?” 

“If you want to see her come apart, eat her out.” Chan moans, burying his face in your neck. You shiver, feeling his hot breath against your spit-slick skin. “Yeah?” Seungcheol laughs. “Dying to taste her, huh?” 

“Fuck,” Chan whispers. He lifts his head from your neck, breathing ragged as he looks at you, cradling your face in his hands. 

You look up at him through your lashes, dazed. He looks so good in the dim light of Seungcheol’s office, his hair a little disheveled, glasses a little eskew. 

“Do you want that?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. His thumb brushes back and forth across your jaw, pausing to brush along the corner of your lip. You nod eagerly, unable to find the words and tell him that is exactly what you want. “Fuck. Yeah. Okay.” 

Chan sinks to the ground. Seungcheol plants his foot against the coffee table, pushing it back slowly to give Chan room. The younger looks up at you reverently and you feel your breath catch, watching as Chan settles on his knees, hands reaching to brush gently up your calves.

His touch is like fire. It feels too hot in Seungcheol’s office, sweat collecting on the back of your neck and along your hairline. You squeeze your thighs together at Chan’s gentle touch and he grins up at you, keeping his fingers feather light and teasing as he skims them up your thighs toward your dress. 

Seungcheol leans you against him, pressing his lips to the side of your temple. Chan leans forward, placing an open mouth kiss on your knee. You twitch, knee nearly knocking him in the face. Seungcheol admonishes you softly, reaching down to pry your right leg open and drape it over his, resting his arm over your knee to keep you pried open.

Chan’s hands continue to caress your skin, the drag of his fingers driving you wild. You stare down at him, panting slightly as he looks up at you. He maintains eye contact as he drags his mouth to kiss your inner thigh, watching as you react with a sigh. 

He moves his mouth upward slowly, each kiss firm but gentle, his lips blazing a trail upward. You feel your core ache for him, a hot, throbbing need that makes you whine a little bit, shifting in Seungcheol’s grip. 

Chan pauses but Seungcheol promises, “She’s fine. She’s very needy.” 

A grin splits Chan’s face as he presses another kiss to the softness of your thigh, followed by biting gently. That gets a reaction out of you, your hips twitching upward and your hands shooting to grip the couch with one hand and Seungcheol’s forearm with the other. 

“She loves when you start slow,” Seungcheol murmurs. Chan nods, taking his elder’s guidance in step. His hands creep toward the hem of your dress, hesitating. “Go ahead.” 

Your breath gets stuck in your throat when Chan pushes the hem of your dress upward. The newly exposed skin feels cold in Seungcheol’s darkened office. Chan bunches the fabric at your hips and Seungcheol reaches around the back of your waist to hold it in place. 

With one hand on your spread knee and the other locked around your waist, Seungcheol has you pinned. The thought makes your eyes flutter, head tilting back as you watch Chan drink you in, his eyes dropping to the lacy underwear.

His mouth resumes its curious travel, kissing the tops of your thighs as his fingers brush the edges of your underwear. You let out a breathy whine and he smiles but doesn’t stop this time, teasing the crease of your thighs with his devilish finger while he gives a harsh suck to your skin. 

Chan rests his chin atop your thigh, eyes focusing on the wet patch of your under. He dips a hand between your legs, pressing the flat of his thumb against the dark spot on the fabric. You give a high pitched whine, fidgeting in Seungcheol’s grip. Chan grins, wiggling his thumb back and forth a little to apply pressure to your clit.

It is heaven. It is hell. Chan’s eyes drift back and forth from where he teases you to your face, unable to decide which he likes watching more. Seungcheol watches him with a smirk, his hold on you like iron, hot breath fanning your ear as he whispers for you to behave for Chan. 

You want to. You want to more than anything else right now, completely forgetting about the party going on outside the office, forgetting the way you’d been afraid to ask Chan if he wants this, forgetting anything else but the look in Chan’s eyes as he hooks his fingers in your underwear and pulls them down.

Lacy fabric scrapes down your skin slow-soft. It is delicious torture. Chan handles you like you’re something precious, something to be loved and treated with care. Your thoughts turn to static, totally hypnotized by the way he peels your underwear from your legs and tosses them somewhere else. His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at your glistening cunt, groaning low in the back of his throat at what he sees. 

Chan slides his hands under your thighs, dragging you toward him a little. Seungcheol helps, peppering your face with butterfly-soft kisses as he slides you down the couch. You’re nearly folded in half as Seungcheol adjusts himself so that he’s sitting behind you with you between his legs. He grabs your thighs, hooking them on the outer edges of his knees to keep you open for Chan, who slides closer, licking his lips. 

“Look how wet she is for you,” Seungcheol purrs. You glance up at him. His dark eyes are focused on Chan, mouth twitching in a smirk. “Start slow. She likes you to build up to it.” 

Chan glances at Seungcheol and nods before his eyes fall to you. Dark. Hungry. Wanting. To see your deepest desire reflected in Chan’s eyes makes you insane. You’d only guessed at his affection for you and Seungcheol, but the fierceness of it drives you wild. 

So does his mouth. Chan drags his mouth up your thighs, kissing delicately. You hold your breath, fixated on him as he audibly plants another kiss before he moves to your center, hesitating. You try not to squirm and move closer, try not to force yourself on his mouth.

He can tell. He gives you a cock grin, letting out a huff before dipping forward, running his tongue up your center and oh oh oh. Your head falls back against Seungcheol’s shoulder, breath locked in your chest. Chan’s tongue is warm and wet, sliding up and down your pussy at a leisurely pace.

Then he moans. Your fingers dig into Seungcheol’s thighs, making him hiss. He hooks his chin on your shoulder, watching as Chan’s tongue circles your aching clit slowly before dipping back down. 

You’re burning, melting, disintegrating. Pleasure ripples through you when Chan dips his tongue tentatively into your clenching hole. That earns a loud moan from you. Seungcheol quickly hushes you, reminding you that you can’t be loud with a harsh whisper. 

A whimper falls from your lips. Chan grunts, closing his eyes as he fastens his mouth to your cunt, suckling gently. You throb under his mouth. He looks up at you, eyes misty as he flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit. 

“Like that,” Seungcheol encourages when you thrash. “She likes it kind of messy too - spit on it.” 

Chan is obedient. He dips his tongue into your cunt, gathering arousal before he lifts his mouth, smeared in your slick, and spits directly on your pussy. You let out a loud sound that is cut off by Seungcheol’s mouth on yours, stealing you in a devouring kiss. 

One hand shoots to Seungcheol’s forearm to cling to him, the other to Chan’s hair when he reattaches his mouth. He moans audibly against you, the sound buzzing right through you to the pit of your stomach. He redoubles his effort, licking and sucking at you vigorously now to match the pace of Seungcheol’s tongue. 

They both swallow you whole. It’s overwhelming the best way, Seungcheol pressing you into his chest as he steals the breath from your lungs, Chan pressing your legs further apart as he buries his face between your legs, little sounds of pleasure dripping from his mouth as he loses himself in you. 

Seungcheol parts with you for a moment, lips swollen and pink as he looks down at Chan and grins. He reaches down, running his fingers through Chan’s hair gently, making the younger groan. 

“Look at him,” Seungcheol coos. “He’s been dying to taste you, huh Chan?” 

“Mhmm.” Chan licks a hard stripe from top to bottom. “So fucking good.”

“Tell him how good he’s doing baby,” Seungcheol whispers, pressing his mouth to your ear. “He’s working so hard for you.” 

“Feels so good,” you gasp as Chan sucks your clit hard. You thrash in Seungcheol’s lap but he holds you still. Chan pins you down too, fingers gripping your thighs as he gets greedier, flattening his tongue and whipping his head back and forth. “Fuck fuck fuck - Chan.” 

“Just like that, Chan.” Seungcheol keeps running his fingers through Chan’s hair affectionately. “She’s gonna come for you, right baby?” 

All you can manage is a nod. You’re beyond the capacity for words, feeling your orgasm twist low in your stomach as Chan works your toward its peak. It feels like he drags you there screaming, the pressure building as he keeps going and going and going-

You break. Seungcheol’s hand clamps over your mouth and you cry through his palm, hips twitching and legs straining against both of their hands as you cum hard. Chan doesn’t care, pressing even further, drinking you in as your clit pulses in his mouth. 

When you quiet down, Seungcheol lets go of your mouth, hushing you with soft kisses as you whimper. Chan’s tongue busies itself as he leisurely licks your thighs, catching stray drops of arousal. You sag against your boyfriend, panting. He rubs his hands up and down your aching thighs. 

“More,” Chan murmurs, words a little slurred as he presses a sloppy kiss to your thigh. He inches closer to your messy folds, hesitating. “Can you take more? Please tell me you can.”

You nod and Seungcheol hums, pleased. “She can.” 

Looking between your legs, you watch as Chan grabs his glasses and rips them off his face, tossing them somewhere behind him. Your stomach flips at the site, lips parted and gasping when he dives back in, fucking you with his tongue. 

“Shit,” you squeak, hands flying to his hair, wrapping your fingers in his locks and twisting. He doesn’t mind the sting, too focused on you. “Oh my god.”

Seungcheol chuckles darkly. “Fuck, he’s hot. Use your fingers, Channie.” 

Nodding eagerly, Chan complies. He’s eager to comply, bringing a hand up between your legs. You hiss when he slides a finger in, the glide easy from your first orgasm. He removes his mouth from you, panting and lips swollen as his eyes focus on where he gently fucks you with his finger. 

“Another,” Seungcheol recommends. 

Chan does. He slides another finger in, tilting his wrist so that they brush just right. You moan his name, throaty and worn. Chan hums happily, kissing his way back up to your clit where he wraps his lips, sucking gently as he sets a slow pace with his fingers. 

It only lasts for a few moments before his pace increases, feeling the way you squeeze tight around him, hearing the way your breath turns shaky and uneven, watching the way you continue to grow slick with sweat. 

He fixates on your face, sucking at you hungrily in time with his fingers, driving you toward another release. Seungcheol’s mouth finds your jaw, teeth nipping and tongue soothing. Again you’re pulled between the two of them, feeling stretched thin and overwhelmed by their mouths.

“I’m gonna,” You gasp, shaking in their grip. They both can tell. Seungcheol bites your neck a little harder, sucking the soft skin between his teeth. Chan turns ravenous, nearly folding you in half as he pushes into you, the wet sounds from his mouth bracketed by your heavy breathing. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

Every muscle in your body squeezes with the force of your orgasm. You can’t breathe, stars exploding behind squeezed-shut lids, breath stuck in squeezed-tight lungs. You’re barely able to hear Seungcheol murmuring in your ear, only able to hear the high-pitched ringing as you hit the top of your high, suspended for a moment before you start to come down.

You go boneless against Seungcheol. You feel spent, sucking in breaths of air while Seungcheol rubs his hands up and down your arms and Chan presses butterfly-soft kisses to your inner thighs, his hands rubbing your calves. 

The three of you stay there like that for a bit, quiet in the dark of Seungcheol’s office with the distant singing of your coworkers. You feel a bit floaty and dreamy, stuck somewhere between nearly asleep and happily present. 

Chan shifts and you drop your eyes to him, seeing him looking around, a little unsure what to do. You and Seungcheol notice at the same time, both of you extending a hand to him. Chan’s smile is shy and tentative, taking both of your hands and letting you pull him to his feet to collapse on the couch next to you.

Immediately you squirm toward him, half falling out of Seungcheol’s lap to fall against Chan’s shoulder. He laughs, lifting his arms and hesitating for a second before he wraps them around you. His lips are pink and swollen, still covered in your arousal. 

“That,” you sigh. “Was better than I imagined.”

“You imagined it, though?” he asks, glancing at Seungcheol. “Both of you?”

“Mhmm.” Seungcheol leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of Chan’s mouth, pink tongue darting out playfully. “Mmm. She tastes good.” 

Pink creeps up Chan’s neck and flushes his face. Seungcheol grins and you can tell he’s just as smitten as you, leaning his head against the back of the couch to watch Chan settle down. He drags his fingers in patterns on your arm, eyes losing focus. 

“Was this just for tonight?” Chan asks. There’s a note in his voice that makes you look up at him. You can tell he’s unsure, a little nervous. “Just for giving season or whatever?” 

Your voice is raspy with disuse. “Not if you don’t want it to be. Cheolie and I like you.” 

“Really?”

You lift a hand, brushing strands of hair back into his damp hairline. “Mhm. We want to keep you, if you’ll have us.” 

Chan chews on his bottom lip, contemplating. Seungcheol watches in silence, but you can tell by the way his fingers drum on your thigh that he’s nervous. He might exude calm and confident most of the time, but you know he hopes Chan will say yes - that he’s desperate for it. 

“I think I like that,” Chan says slowly, looking at you both. “I would like that, yeah.” 

Seungcheol grins, closing his eyes as he reaches over and runs a hand through Chan’s hair. “Good. Also - it’s always giving season at our house. So buckle up, Channie.” 

-

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[tsuutarr]

Tavern Owner Orc x New Hire Reader

I got to participate in the lovely Ozzgin's Secret Santa Event!! This one is for @tranquilo-antique-apothecary!!

Content is about 1K words of him being down bad for you <3

Sekkrad has always liked the bustling atmosphere of taverns, rich with rambunctious laughter and delicious food. After every win or loss, Sekkrad and his comrades would settle down at their favorite tavern, almost as if it were their second home. Maybe that was why he decided to open a quaint tavern after retiring from his warrior duties.

Despite his retirement, Sekkrad has always kept himself in shape. Working out has been engraved into his body, but beyond that, it’s also because his patrons can get quite rowdy at times. Plus, it’s helpful to be athletic when you’re working as much as he is. That said…

He really could use some help.

So, he puts up a flyer seeking an employee. As expected, there are some pretty good candidates. What’s unexpected, however, is you. You’re just so cute that Sekkrad literally stopped thinking when he first saw you walk through the tavern’s doors. He’s not even sure how he got through interviewing you, but somehow he did. And, just his luck, you’re a great candidate – exactly what he’s looking for! A good personality, a solid resume, and a cute face… so of course he hires you.

But on second thought – maybe it wasn’t his best idea. You look too adorable in the tavern’s uniform (that uniform does not usually look that good). And he practically blanks out every time you’re around him. You just look so soft and huggable. Plus that smile? It’s a killer. Thankfully, he somehow manages to guide you through your tasks and answer questions with a blank face (that he is desperately trying to control).

As he’s mulling about how he’s supposed to act around you, he notices you struggling to reach up to get a bottle of bourbon on one of the shelves. Without a second thought, he reaches over you, pressing his muscular body against your softer one.

“Here,” he grunts, voice low, as sirens whir in his head over how good your body feels against his. It’s like you fit perfectly against him.

“Thank you!” you respond, smile bright. Oh, Gods. You’re going to kill him.

He nods. “If y’need anything else, let me know.”

With that said, he moves to the storage in the back. He almost slams his head into the bag of flour, but reigns himself in after remembering how expensive flour is nowadays. Instead, he picks up some more syrup for his cocktails, willing himself to behave.

Despite the turmoil your presence brings to him, he manages to get through the day with relative ease. Hiring you really was the right choice – you’re an excellent worker. Smart, quick on the uptake, easy on the eyes – you’re just the perfect hire.

As he closes shop, wiping a wine glass clean, he watches as you wipe down the last table, a feeling of fondness spreading through his chest at how much of a hard worker you are. As you finish up, he prepares a sweet cocktail for you, before motioning you over.

“Good job,” he says, passing the cocktail to you.

“Thank you!”

He nods, motioning for you to sit. “Wait there.”

“Yessir,” you respond, saluting before you sit down. You watch as he disappears into the kitchen in the back, the sweet taste of your cocktail spreading over your tongue pleasantly.

It only takes him a few moments to come back with a plate of warm food. He places it in front of you.

“Eat up,” he murmurs, crossing his arms. “You were a great help today.”

Your cheeks heat up, making Sekkrad want to scream – you’re just so stinking adorable.

“I’m glad!” you beam, making his lips twitch up into a smile involuntarily. 

The way you eat his food also makes him feel warm and happy – it’s always a treat when someone enjoys his food.

“It was delicious!” you tell him once you’re done eating.

“Let me know what y’like to eat,” he says, looking pleased as you polish off his food. “I’ll make it for you next time.”

Eagerly, you tell him your favorite food, which he files away for later. He takes your empty dishes, which you try to protest, saying that you’ll clean up after yourself. He’s having none of it, though, and cleans up promptly as you finish off your cocktail.

“I’ll walk you home,” he offers while wiping his hands off on his apron. “It’s late.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly impose.”

Sekkrad doesn’t want to seem pushy, not when he really doesn’t want you to hate him, but he’s more concerned for your safety than anything. “You wouldn’t be imposing,” he replies, trying to make his voice softer. “I just want t’make sure my new hire’s safe.”

“Well…” you look up at him and Sekkrad has to look behind you so that he won’t combust. “...I’d appreciate it, thank you! I’ll go get my things.”

“Yeah,” he responds, watching as you go to the back to get your things. When you reappear, he straightens his back, motioning to the door. “Ready?”

“Yessir!” you say, starting your journey back to your home.

Your walk back with him is quiet and peaceful as everyone else is asleep. That, and Sekkrad has never been much of a talker, but he’s especially nervous around you. He’s not entirely sure how he’s supposed to talk to you, so he opts not to. Besides, you seem content to walk beside him quietly (and it’s just… nice to see how comfortable you look beside him). Despite his nervousness, he’s actually pretty content himself.

In fact, when you two arrive at your home, Sekkrad is almost disappointed. Still, he got you home safe and nothing was really amiss, so he can’t complain.

“Rest up,” he says, nodding at you. “I’ll see you at night.”

“I’ll be there dark and early,” you grin.

He can’t help but crack a smile at that. “Good.”

With a small laugh and a final wave, you enter your home. Sekkrad lingers until he’s fully sure you’re safe inside, before turning his heels to walk back to the tavern with light steps.

He really, really can’t wait to see you again.