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r0ugesun · 5 months ago

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running with the wolves

Beta read by my wife @moonstruksandco ( ˘ ³˘)˘ᵋ ˘ )♥

Synopsis: Cregan Stark, the formidable Lord of Winterfell, eagerly awaits the arrival of his new betrothed, y/n, who has bewitched him since childhood. As winter sets in, he hopes to transform their arranged marriage into a union of love. However, y/n arrives with her own doubts, unsure if she can return his deep affection. Will their marriage blossom into love, or remain a cold duty? Cregan is determined to show her that their bond can be more than just an obligation on their wedding night.

Warnings: 18+ slow burn, smut, arranged marriage, loss of virginity, p in v sex (unprotected), breeding kink, rough sex, oral sex(both f/m receiving) missionary, mating press, doggy style lots of cum (I think all stark men cum bucket loads)

8k+ words likes and reblogs are highly appreciated ෆ/⟳ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

(Authors note: omg hayy I don’t know that much about Yorkshire accents aside from ackley bridge so I’m sorry in advanced if it’s not right :>)

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The wind howled through the ancient halls of Winterfell, carrying with it the biting chill of the northern winter. Cregan Stark, the Warden of the North, stood by the great hearth in the main hall, his keen grey eyes fixed on the entrance. The time had come for the arrival of his new betrothed, y/n, the most beautiful amongst house Tyrell.

From the moment he first saw her, Cregan had been captivated. Even as a young lad, her grace and elegance had set her apart. Now, as a grown woman, she was even more bewitching, and Cregan's heart swelled with a mix of anticipation and determination. He was resolved to turn their arranged marriage into a union of love.

As Cregan stood by the hearth, he watched the window, the snowflakes drifting lazily to the ground, a distant memory surfaced, warm and vivid against the icy present. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be transported back to a time when he was just a young lad of twelve, visiting Highgarden with his family.

He remembered the journey vividly, how different the South had seemed compared to the North. The air was warmer, the colors more vibrant. He had wandered through the lush gardens, marveling at the flowers and plants that couldn’t survive the harsh winters of Winterfell. It was in those gardens that he first saw her.

Y/n had been around his age, a vision of beauty even then. She sat on a stone bench, engrossed in a book, her expression serene and detached. Her hair, shining in the sunlight, cascaded down her shoulders, and her delicate features were framed by the backdrop of blooming flowers. She seemed almost like a fairytale princess, so enchanting that he could scarcely believe she was real.

Without even realizing it his feet began to move on their own, he was like a moth being drawn to the flame that was her. As he approached her, His heart pounded in his chest, an unfamiliar but exhilarating feeling. She glanced up briefly from her book as he neared, her eyes meeting his for just a moment before returning to her reading.

“H-Hello” he said, trying to muster as much confidence as he could. “What are yeh reading?”

She responded without looking up this time, her voice calm and distant. “Hmm a collection of poems” she replied. “Do you like poetry?”

Cregan, caught off guard, nodded. “Aye. Though I don’t read much of it.”

She patted the space beside her, still not lifting her gaze from the pages. “You can sit if you want.”

He sat down slowly, feeling a strange sense of destiny in that moment. She continued to read aloud, her voice weaving the words into a tapestry of emotion and beauty. He listened, captivated not by the poetry but by her otherworldliness her grace, and the way she brought the words to life. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, completely in star struck, while she remained indifferent, too engrossed in her book to notice his adoration.

That was the last time they spoke just a few exchange of words. The rest of his visit to Highgarden was spent with his father and training with Y/N’s brothers and learning the ways of a lord, much to his chagrin. But whenever he could, he would steal glances at her from a window while she read in the garden, and across from her at dinner, for which his mother often scolded him.

"Cregan, it's impolite to stare" his mother whispered sharply during dinner one evening, nudging his foot under the table.

He tore his eyes away from y/n, his cheeks burning and crimson red. "I weren’t starin’, Mother.”

“Yeh most certainly were” she replied, her tone firm. “It’s not appropriate. Focus on yer meal.”

“But she’s… she’s so…”

“Enchantin’?” his mother finished for him, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Aye, she is. But yeh must remember yer manners, lad. Staring is unbecoming of a young lord.”

Cregan sighed, casting one last, fleeting glance at y/n, who was still in her own little world not casting a single glance his way. “Aye, mother….”

Despite his mother’s admonitions, his fascination with Y/N only grew, even as she remained blissfully unaware of his admiration.

Cregan opened his eyes, the memory fading as the cold reality of Winterfell settled back in. He sighed, turning away from the window. Some things, he mused, never truly changed.

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In the dimly lit carriage, y/n huddled under the blankets, trying to stave off the biting cold that seemed to seep through the very fabric of her clothes. Her mother sat beside her, wrapped in her own covers and trying to offer some semblance of warmth and comfort. The carriage jolted over the rough, snow covered road, and every bump made her shiver more.

Her brothers, true to their duty, were outside braving the harsh northern winter with their horses, though y/n could scarcely imagine how they managed. She, however, had the luxury of being confined to the carriage, a prisoner of her own anxieties and fears.

The stories she’d heard about Cregan Stark haunted her thoughts. The gruff warden of the north with a claymore sword so heavy it was said to be the size of a small man. To her, the very idea of marrying such a man was nightmarish. She couldn't remember much about him from his family’s previous visit to Highgarden all those years ago, but the tales of his fierceness and the imposing aura of the North made her dread the moment she would finally meet him.

The carriage seemed to creak with the weight of her mother's discontent. Her mother’s complaints, murmured under her breath but audible enough for y/n to hear, were laced with disdain. “I cannot believe we’ve had to send our only daughter off to marry a Stark”

“Their way of life, covered in stinking animal pelts, living amongst brutes who value strength over grace. It’s hardly the life for a Tyrell.” She said with disgust.

Her father’s stern gaze flicked towards her mother, his patience evidently wearing thin. "We’ve discussed this, Eliza. The match is made, and it’s for the good of House Tyrell. Stop lamenting what cannot be undone."

To him, this marriage was merely a strategic move, a means to secure more power for Highgarden. His daughter's feelings were of no consequence, his focus was solely on the political gain.

“Do you have to be so callous?” her mother’s voice broke through the gloom. “She is our daughter.”

Her father’s gaze remained unyielding. “The alliance with the Starks is necessary for the gain of our house. Y/n is to be a dutiful wife to a powerful lord it’s what she was raised for, if she does her duty right she’ll bear him many children further securing our power”

As her father’s harsh words continued to echo in her ears, y/n’s anger flared. She straightened up, glaring at him . “If you wanted to gift Cregan a broodmare, you should’ve gotten him one of the whores you visit in the brothels” she spat out, her voice trembling with defiance.

mother’s gasp of shock was barely audible over the creaking of the carriage. Her father’s eyes were wild, a hot fury flashing in them. Before y/n could react, his hand shot out, delivering a hard, stinging slap across her face. The sharp force of it made her head snap to the side, and she recoiled, stunned by the sudden violence.

“How dare you!” her father’s voice roared with anger.

y/n’s mother was frozen, her hand going to her mouth in shock. She looked at her husband with a mixture of horror and helplessness. “Henry, please—”

“Be silent!” he snapped, cutting her off. “I will not tolerate such insolence!“

He turned his icy gaze back to y/n, his face a mask of unrelenting severity. “You are about to become the wife of a powerful man. you are fortunate that I secured this arrangement, otherwise you would just end up being Cregans whore in some brothel anyway.”

Y/n’s heart sank as she heard the finality in his cruel words. She knew better than to argue with him—his decisions were made with an iron will that left no room for dissent.

as the carriage continued its slow journey through the snow, y/n's thoughts were plagued with anxiety and uncertainty. The grandeur of Winterfell loomed ahead, and with it, the reality of her new life as Cregan Stark’s bride. She could only hope that, amidst the cold and the gruffness of her new home, she might find a way to endure this new chapter of her life.

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As Cregan stood by the hearth, still lost in his own thoughts, the door swung open with a crash and his friends burst in, laughter and shouts echoing through the great hall.

“Cregan, ye dog! Heard the news, did we!” Jorah boomed, striding up to him and clapping him on the back with such force it nearly sent him stumbling forward.

“Aye, lad, congratulations!” Gendry called out, raising his tankard high. “A Tyrell, no less! Must’ve done somethin’ right to be landin’ a lass like that.”

Cregan, smiling, shook his head as he tried to make sense of the sudden uproar. “Cheers, lads. Bit early for a celebratory drink, ain’t it?”

Bram, always one for a jest, stepped forward with a grin. “Well, Cregan, we heard she’s real beauty, fairest in all the Seven Kingdoms. Quite the catch for a dog like you. Ain’t right, really, a face like hers and a face like yours.”

Cregan raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips. “Oh, is that so? And what about ye lot, then? All of ye been lookin’ in the mirror lately?”

The room erupted in laughter, and Bram waved a dismissive hand. “Aye, we might be a rough lot, but at least we ain’t got to worry ‘bout our faces bein’ compared to a rose.”

Robb, always quick with a quip, leaned in with a wink. “Might be true she’ll forget all ‘bout yer ugly mug once she gets a look at what’s really under yer tunic. you’ve got more to offer than just yer sorry looks.”

Cregan’s cheeks flushed slightly, but he laughed along, trying to maintain his composure. “Ah, so ye’re sayin’ it’s all in the size of me… character, is it?”

“Aye, that’s right!” Robb said with a grin. “Best thing about ye, Cregan, is that even if your face don’t make the cut, yer other qualities surely will.”

Cregan shook his head, laughing despite himself. “Well, if it’s me ‘other qualities’ that’ll win her over, then I reckon I’d best be makin’ sure she gets a good look at all of ‘em.”

Jorah slapped him on the back again, nearly sending him reeling. “Look at ye, all flustered! Never thought I’d see the day. Don’t worry, lad. What lass wouldn’t want a strong Northman?”

“Aye, just keep it down a bit, or you’ll have me blushing so hard I’ll be usin’ me face as a lantern” Cregan said, his grin widening.

The friends continued their banter, the atmosphere warm with camaraderie and laughter. As they raised their mugs in a final toast, Cregan felt a renewed sense of anticipation and affection for the future, no matter the teasing jabs from his mates.

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The room was alive with laughter and chatter as Cregan and his friends carried on with their banter. Jorah was in the middle of a lively tale from a recent hunt, while Robb and Gendry argued over the best way to handle a particularly stubborn horse.

The door creaked open, and in walked Lady Gilliane Glover and Lord Rickon Stark, their presence immediately silencing the room. Lady Gilliane, a woman of dignified grace, and Lord Rickon, tall and commanding, made their way over to their son.

“Cregan, me lad!” Lady Gilliane called out, her voice warm but authoritative. “Got a bit o’ news for ye.”

Cregan turned, a smile fading as he saw his parents. He stood, brushing his hands on his tunic. “Mother, Father, what brings ye here?”

Lord Rickon gave a nod, his face a mix of seriousness and pride. “Your brother spotted Y/N’s carriage on the road. They’ll be arrivin’ soon.”

The room quieted, the friends sensing the shift in the mood. Jorah nudged Cregan with a grin. “Looks like the real fun’s about to start, eh?”

Lady Gilliane gave a small, amused smile. “Aye, that’s right. Thought ye’d want to know. They’ll be here within the hour, so best be ready.”

Cregan’s heart raced, and he glanced at his friends, trying to mask his nerves. “Well, no time like the present, I suppose. Best get meself sorted.”

Lord Rickon placed a reassuring hand on Cregan’s shoulder. “Remember, lad, first impressions count. Show her what a proper Stark man ye are.”

“Aye, Father,” Cregan said, nodding. He turned to his friends with a determined look. “Ye lot best behave yerselves when she arrives. Don’t be givin’ her any more trouble than need be.”

The friends raised their mugs, grinning. “Aye, aye, Cregan! We’ll be on our best behavior,” Robb said, winking.

Lady Gilliane’s gaze softened as she looked at her son. “We’ll leave ye to it, then. Just remember, Cregan, she’ll be as nervous as ye, if not more. Show her the warmth of the North.”

As Lady Gilliane and Lord Rickon exited the hall, Cregan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The anticipation of meeting Y/N was building with every tick of the clock, and he knew the coming hours would be crucial.

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Y/n sat in the carriage, the stark contrast between the verdant landscapes of Highgarden and the harsh, icy expanse of Winterfell weighing heavily on her. The snow-clad scenery outside felt alien and unwelcoming compared to the lush greenery she had left behind. Each jolt of the carriage seemed to deepen her sense of displacement.

Her mother’s hand, warm and steady, was a source of comfort amid her growing anxiety. Y/N clung to it, drawing solace from its presence as she tried to quell her rising fears.

“We’re almost there, dear” her mother said softly, her voice a gentle balm against the cold atmosphere of the carriage. “Remember, we’re in this together.”

Y/n managed a small, appreciative smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you, Mother. It’s just… it’s so different from home.”

Her father, ever the pillar of stoicism, was peering out the window, his gaze fixed on the approaching Winterfell.

The carriage began to slow, the crunch of snow under the wheels signaling their arrival. As they came to a stop, y/n could see her father alighting first, his figure steady and authoritative as he approached Lord Rickon Stark.

“Lord Rickon” her father said, stepping forward with a formal nod. “It is a pleasure to see you again. Thank you for your gracious hospitality.”

Y/n and her mother remained in the carriage, the cold air seeping through the cracks in the doors. Her mother's hand squeezed hers gently, offering a fleeting moment of comfort in the face of her overwhelming anxiety.

"Mother" y/n whispered, her voice trembling. "What if I can't do this? I-I’m scared"

Her mother turned to her, eyes filled with sympathy and understanding. "Oh, my dear, I know it seems daunting. But you have a strength within you that you may not yet realize. You have always been resilient."

Tears welled up in y/n's eyes. "I feel so far from home. Everything here is so cold, so harsh."

Her mother reached up, brushing a tear from

y/n's cheek. "I know, darling. Highgarden's warmth and beauty are hard to leave behind. But you must remember, you have the ability to adapt and thrive. This place will feel like home in time."

Y/n nodded, trying to take comfort in her mother's words, but the knot in her stomach remained tight. "And what of Father? He seems so determined, but... he never cares for how I feel."

Her mother's expression darkened momentarily before she masked it with a gentle smile. "don't let him weigh you down. Focus on yourself and your own strength. You are here to build a new life, and I believe in you."

The carriage door opened, and the cold air rushed in, a stark reminder of the world awaiting her. Her father was already engaged in conversation with Lord Rickon Stark, their voices carrying a tone of formality and mutual respect.

"It's time" her mother said softly, giving y/n's hand one last reassuring squeeze. "Show them the grace and strength you possess. You are more than capable y/n."

With a deep breath, y/n steeled herself and stepped out of the carriage. The cold air bit at her skin, but she walked forward, her mother following closely behind.

Y/n's mother nudged her gently, drawing her attention away from the imposing figure of Lord Rickon. "Y/n, dear" she whispered, "Lord Cregan is approaching you."

Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she turned to see Cregan making his way towards her. He was even taller and more formidable than she remembered, his broad shoulders and strong build making him appear larger than life. She stiffened, her body tensing with apprehension.

Cregan's eyes, a deep and thoughtful blue, met hers as he stopped before her. He could see the trepidation in her gaze, the way her hands clutched the folds of her cloak. Despite the fear evident in her demeanor, she managed to muster a polite greeting.

"Lord Cregan" she said, her voice steady but tinged with a slight tremor. "It is an honor to be here."

Cregan offered a warm smile, though he felt a pang of hurt and self-consciousness at the sight of her fear. He noticed the redness around her eyes, the telltale signs that she had been crying. The realization made his heart ache—she was far from home, surrounded by strangers, and faced with the daunting prospect of marrying him, a man she barely remembered.

"Lady y/n" he responded, his voice gentle. "The honor is mine. Welcome to Winterfell."

Y/n nodded, her posture rigid. "Thank you, my lord."

He could see her struggling to maintain her composure, her attempts to be polite masking the underlying fear and uncertainty. He wanted to reassure her, to tell her that she was safe here with him, but he knew his words might not carry much weight given the circumstances.

"Ye must be tired from yer journey" Cregan said, trying to ease the tension. "I hope the accommodations we’ve prepared for ye are to yer liking."

She glanced around, her eyes briefly meeting his before darting away. "I'm sure they will be, my lord. Thank you."

Cregan's heart softened at her evident discomfort. He could only imagine how overwhelming this experience must be for her—leaving the warmth and familiarity of Highgarden for the cold and formidable North, betrothed to an intimidating stranger.

"Please, if there is anything ye need, do not hesitate to ask," he added, his tone earnest. "I want ye to feel at home here."

Y/N nodded again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Lord Cregan."

As the formalities continued, Cregan remained by her side, acutely aware of her apprehension. He could see the way she shivered slightly in the cold, her delicate frame dwarfed by the heavy cloak she wore. The vulnerability in her eyes struck a chord within him, igniting a protective instinct he hadn’t anticipated.

He knew it would take time for her to adjust, to feel comfortable in this new and unfamiliar place. And while her fear and anxiety might hurt him, he understood the reasons behind them. She was far from home, thrust into a situation beyond her control, and he was determined to show her that she had nothing to fear.

As the crowd began to disperse, Cregan leaned in slightly, his voice low and sincere. "I hope ye will come to find Winterfell as welcoming as Highgarden, Lady y/n. We Northerners may seem cold, but we are loyal and true. Ye have my word on that."

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes searching his for a moment before she nodded, a hint of hope mingling with her fear. "…I will do my best."

He smiled softly, hoping to convey his sincerity. "And I will do my best to make this place a home for ye."

With that, they parted, y/n retreating to her quarters with her mother while Cregan watched her go, a mix of emotions churning within him. He was determined to prove himself to her, to show her that beneath his intimidating exterior lay a heart of gold capable of warmth and compassion.

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The day of the wedding arrived, casting a serene hush over Winterfell. The godswood was adorned for the occasion, the ancient weirwood standing sentinel over the ceremony, its pale bark and blood-red leaves seeming to echo the gravity of the moment.

In her chambers, y/n adjusted her maiden’s cloak for the final time. The rich green of House Tyrell’s sigil contrasted sharply with the snowy landscape visible through the window. Her father, though distant and stern, was prepared to escort her. As they approached the godswood, y/n’s heart pounded in her chest, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on her.

Her father’s expression was somber, but he offered her a curt nod, signaling it was time. Together, they walked through the snow, the crunching of their footsteps the only sound breaking the silence. The guests had gathered, their breaths visible in the chill air, and they fell into a hushed reverence as y/n and her father approached the heart tree.

Cregan waited beneath the weirwood, his eyes fixed on the approaching bride. As she neared, his breath caught slightly, a mixture of awe and anticipation in his gaze. The grandeur of y/n’s beauty was amplified by the solemnity of the godswood, her presence seeming almost ethereal in the fading light.

When they reached the base of the tree, Cregan’s voice rang out clearly, cutting through the stillness. “Who comes? Who comes before the gods?”

Y/n’s father’s voice was steady as he replied,

“Y/n of House Tyrell comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?”

Cregan’s response was filled with a fervent resolve. “Me, Cregan of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell. I claim her. Who gives her?”

Y/n’s father turned to her, his voice formal but lacking warmth. “I, Henry of House Tyrell, her father, gives her.”

He then addressed y/n, his tone clipped. “Lady y/n, will you take this man?”

Y/n’s voice trembled slightly but was resolute. “I take this man.”

With the formalities completed, Cregan and y/n joined hands and knelt before the weirwood. They bowed their heads, submitting to the gods in silent prayer. The moment was charged with a profound intimacy, the ancient tree bearing witness to their vows.

After a few moments, Cregan gently removed

y/n’s maiden’s cloak, revealing the intricate embroidery of House Tyrell on her dress. With great care, he draped over her shoulders a new cloak—the sigil of House Stark now displayed proudly.

The crowd erupted into applause, their cheers ringing out as Cregan and y/n stood together. The ceremony was complete, the ancient bond of the godswood now symbolizing the beginning of their shared life.

As they walked back towards the castle, Cregan stole glances at y/n, his admiration and anticipation palpable. Despite the harshness of Winterfell’s climate and the gravity of their new life, the day had marked a hopeful new chapter for both of them.

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Y/n's heart pounded as Cregan guided her through the cold, imposing corridors of Winterfell. The castle's heavy stone walls seemed to close in on her, amplifying her sense of isolation. Cregan's presence beside her was both comforting and intimidating, she couldn’t shake the fear that gripped her heart.

They arrived at Cregan's chambers, where a warm fire crackled in the hearth, casting a soft, inviting glow. He gestured for her to enter first, and after a brief hesitation, she stepped inside.

"Please, make yerself comfortable," Cregan said, closing the door behind them. His northern accent was thick, adding a rugged charm to his words. "Would ye like somethin' to drink? A bit o' wine, mayhaps, to help ye warm up?"

Y/n nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, thank you."

Cregan poured a glass of wine and handed it to her, his gaze lingering on her as she took a small sip. He could see the tension in her posture and wanted to ease her fears, to show her that he was not the monster she imagined.

"Y/n," he began, his voice low and earnest, the thick accent wrapping each word in a soft embrace, "I know this must be overwhelmin'. I want ye to know that I understand yer fears, and I swear I’ll do everythin' in me power to make ye feel safe and cherished here."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. "Thank you, my lord," she said, her voice quivering. "I… I don't know what to expect."

Cregan took a step closer, his gaze filled with a yearning that spoke of deep emotion. "Ye can call me Cregan" he said, the warmth in his northern accent making his words even more poignant. "And I need ye to hear me now, for it’s somethin’ I’ve carried with me for years. From the moment I first beheld ye, me heart was forever altered."

Y/n's breath hitched, her eyes searching his face for the truth behind his words. Cregan's expression was tender, his gaze reflecting a vulnerability she hadn’t expected. He took a deep breath, as if gathering the courage to bare his soul.

"I remember the first time I saw ye in the gardens of Highgarden," he said softly, his voice weaving a tapestry of emotion. "I was just a lad, new to the beauty of the south. Everythin’ around me was lush and vibrant, but when I saw ye, it was as if my world fell apart. Ye were like a vision of ethereal grace amidst the greenery. The flowers and the trees—they seemed mere shadows compared to ye. In that moment, it was clear that ye were the true beauty of the garden."

Y/n's eyes widened, and a flush of color spread across her cheeks. She could hardly breathe as she processed his confession. "Since then?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Cregan nodded, his gaze steady and full of longing. "Aye, since then. Ye were a beacon of light in me life, and that memory has lingered, burnin’ bright in me heart. I’ve longed to be near ye, not merely for the sake of duty, but because ye’ve ensnared my heart in a way no one else ever could."

Her heart fluttered wildly at his words, the warmth of the fire mingling with the warmth of his confession. She had always felt like a pawn in her father’s game, never imagining that someone like Cregan could see her so profoundly.

"I didn’t know" she said softly, her voice catching in her throat. "I thought... I thought you would be distant and cold."

Cregan's smile widened, his eyes soft with pure affection. "Aye the North may be cold, but my heart is only filled with warmth for ye. I want ye to see the real me, to know that I am here for ye with all that I am."

She looked into his eyes, seeing a depth of sincerity and yearning that shifted her perception. Perhaps this marriage could be more than a mere alliance. Maybe it could be the beginning of something profoundly beautiful.

"Thank you, Cregan…." she whispered, feeling a newfound sense of calm and hope. "I... I want to try."

Cregan’s smile was full of warmth and relief. "Tha’s all I ask, Y/n. We’ll take this one step at a time, together."

As they stood there, hand in hand, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, Y/n felt a spark of hope ignite in her heart, seeing Cregan in a new light.

Cregan's eyes never left Y/n's as he took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted this moment to be perfect, to reassure her of his intentions.

"Y/n" he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, "may I kiss ye?"

Y/n's breath hitched, her cheeks flushing scarlet. She hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod, her eyes never leaving his. "Yes, Cregan. You may."

Cregan moved closer, his hand gently cupping her cheeks as he leaned in. He pressed his lips to hers in a soft tender, almost hesitant kiss, his touch gentle and reassuring. Y/n responded, her initial nervousness melting away as she felt the warmth and sincerity in his kiss.

When he pulled back, he looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort. Seeing none, he smiled softly. "Ye're so beautiful, Y/n."

She blushed again, a shy smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you, Cregan."

He took her hand, leading her to the bed. As they stood beside it, he gently picked her up, cradling her in his arms. Y/n gasped softly, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried her. He laid her down on the bed with the utmost care, as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

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Cregan's gaze remained locked on Y/n’s face, his eyes filled with a deep, reverent admiration. He lowered himself beside her on the bed, his hand still cupping her cheek. “I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “I can’t believe yer finally mine. My wife.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered at the sincerity in his voice. The way he looked at her made her feel cherished, his admiration lighting a fire within her. Her apprehension melted away as she reached up, cupping his face in return. “And I’m grateful to be yours, Cregan.”

Their lips met again, this time with more fervor. The kiss deepened as Cregan’s hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer. Y/n’s hands roamed over his shoulders, pulling him into the kiss with equal intensity. The warmth of his touch, combined with the gentle urgency of their embrace, made her feel as if she was floating.

Cregan’s breath mingled with hers as he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers. “I’ve wanted this so much” he whispered. “I’ve wanted ye.”

Y/n’s eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze and the sincerity of his words. She felt a new, desperate longing surge within her, her body responding to his touch with an eagerness she hadn’t expected. “Please, Cregan” she breathed out, her voice trembling with emotion.

Their lips met again, each kiss more passionate than the last. The world outside seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in the moment, their breaths coming in sync as their yearning for each other deepened with every touch.

Cregan's kisses grew more intense, his touch transforming from gentle caresses to an urgent, burning desire. He pulled back just enough to look into Y/n's eyes, his own dark with passion. "I want to see all of ye, to feel ye" he said softly, his voice rough with need.

With deliberate care, he started to undress, his movements slow and deliberate. He tossed his cloak aside, revealing his strong muscular frame. Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she watched him, his hardened form visible through his small clothes, making her heart race with a mix of anticipation and nervous excitement.

Cregan's hands moved to his shirt, sliding it off with a practiced ease. His gaze remained locked on Y/n as he undressed, his eyes filled with a burning intensity. His hands lingered on the waistband of his smallclothes, his hardness evident and stirring a deep, aching longing within Y/n.

When he was finally freed his cock, Cregan approached Y/n with a tender but determined expression. He reached for her cloak, slipping it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. His fingers moved deftly to her dress, his touch gentle but purposeful as he began to unlace it.

The fabric fell away, revealing her bare chest to his gaze. Cregan's breath caught at the sight, his eyes roaming over her exposed skin with a mixture of reverence and desire.

"Ye're stunning," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "I want to cherish every part of ye."

Yn's skin tingled under his gaze, her heart pounding as she felt both exposed and cherished.

Cregan's hands continued their exploration, his touch both reverent and possessive. He leaned in to kiss her again, his lips trailing hot, desperate kisses across her neck and shoulders.

His hands roamed over her bare skin, his touch igniting a fierce desire within her. She gasped, her body arching into his touch, as he pressed her into the bed with a controlled but eager force. His kisses became more fervent, his hands gripping her waist as he explored her body with a possessive urgency.

"I've longed for this moment" Cregan said between kisses, his voice rough with need.

Yn responded with equal fervor, her hands gripping his shoulders as she kissed him back with a desperate passion. "Show me, Cregan" she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

"Show me how much you want me."

The room was filled with the sounds of their mingled breaths and wet sloppy kisses as they lost themselves in the moment. Cregan's touch was a blend of tenderness and raw desire, each movement and kiss building a profound connection that left them both breathless and yearning for more.

As the kiss deepened, Cregan's touch grew more urgent, his hands roaming over Y/n's body with increasing desperation. His kisses, once tender and exploratory, became more demanding, his breaths ragged as he tried to control his growing desire. Yet, despite the intensity of their embrace, Cregan seemed to hold back, his movements tinged with an inner struggle to remain gentle.

Y/n could sense his restraint and the tension in his body. She was overwhelmed by the fire burning within her, her own desire driving her to push past his tentative touches.

"Cregan" she gasped between kisses, her voice trembling with need. "I want you. I want you to claim me fully."

Cregan's breath hitched, his eyes dark with a mix of surprise and longing. "Y/n... I-I don't want to hurt ye" he murmured, his voice strained as he tried to keep his composure, he promised himself that he would be gentle, only touching her as if she were made of the most delicate glass and now he’d already been more rough than he intended.

But Y/n's voice was resolute, her gaze fixed on him with a desperate intensity. "No, Cregan. I want you to make me yours completely.” She whined, but she saw the look on his eyes he wouldn’t relent unless she pushed him towards his breaking point. “I want you to fuck a baby into me. I need you ple—“

Cregan didn't let you finish. His lips crashed against yours in a kiss that ignited a wildfire within. He held your face tenderly yet firmly, his touch a lifeline as you clung to him, desperate for more. His tongue explored the depths of your mouth, tasting every inch with a hunger that bordered on feral.

The clash of your teeth, the fervor of your kiss, it was a battle, a dance of dominance that you were willing to lose.

Cregan's tongue delved deeper, drawing a breathless moan from you. His scent enveloped you, intoxicating and heady, making your knees buckle with longing. It was as if the tether to your senses was fraying, leaving you to melt into a molten pool beneath his commanding presence.

The heat coursing through your body was a familiar sensation, yet it had never burned this intensely. It surged through you, tightening your nipples and pooling between your thighs, setting every nerve aflame.

Lost in the haze of his searing kisses, you scarcely noticed when he eased your back farther onto the bed, his body a solid, protective weight above you. Your eyes met, a silent conflagration passing between you, before he claimed your lips again with a gentler fervor, the same intensity simmering beneath the surface.

"Do you truly want this? With me?" Cregan's voice was a hushed murmur against your lips, a plea and a promise intertwined.

"Yes, husband" you breathed, the words a vow of your own.

His lips brushed your ear, his breath a tantalizing whisper that sent shivers cascading down your spine. "I am going to make love to ye now."

Your nipples hardened at his words, a raw moan of anticipation escaping your lips as he took in your form, the vulnerable softness of your skin a feast for his hungry gaze.

Cregan lowered his head, his lips tracing a path of fire down your neck, over your collarbone, each kiss a desperate silent vow. His hands followed, exploring, caressing, leaving no inch of you untouched.

"Yer exquisite" he murmured, his voice a reverent whisper against your skin. His touch was a balance of possession and adoration, a worship that left you breathless.

The cool air kissed your overheated skin as he continued to explore you, Every touch, every kiss, was a symphony of sensations, a crescendo of passion that left you aching for more.

his eyes drinking in the sight of you, slowly consumed with lust for him, with a reverence that made your heart stutter. "My wife" he whispered, the words a sacred incantation.

Cregan leaned in, capturing your lips once more in a kiss that was both fierce and possessive. His hands roamed your body with a fervent curiosity, memorizing every curve, every dip, leaving a trail of molten fire in their wake.

Your body responded to him, arching into his touch, a silent plea for more.

His kisses grew more insistent, his touch more demanding, as he made his way down your body. He worshipped you with every kiss, every caress, until you were trembling with need beneath him.

"Cregan," you breathed, your voice a soft plea.

His eyes met yours, dark and intense. "I'm here, Y/n" he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. "I'm here."

Cregan's gaze was fixed on your taut, aching nipples. He wasted no time, his heated mouth enveloping one of your tight, sensitive peaks. You gasped as your back arched in response, the initial shock of his touch quickly melting into a rhythm of pleasure.

Each time his cheeks hollowed as he suckled, your gasps turned to desperate pants, while his fingers teased the other abandoned nipple, pulling and twisting it gently.

Cregan's mouth pulling harder on your nipple, his tongue lavishing attention on the delicate bud. Every flick of his tongue sent waves of sensation through you, stirring a throbbing need between your legs.

The pulsing ache demanded more, and your hand, almost involuntarily, slipped between your thighs. The damp evidence of your desire left you breathless and mortified.

"Show me yer hand" Cregan's voice rumbled, his tone firm.

"It's... it's embarrassing-"

Without hesitation, Cregan parted your thighs and deftly removed your small clothes, leaving you exposed before him. His gaze settled on your glistening core, and a satisfied smile tugged at his lips.

"C-cregan!"

"Y/n" he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of adoration and hunger.

"Ye've got the prettiest little cunt."

his words made your entire face burn and turn a dark crimson. The raw honesty in his voice left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest.

“D-don’t look so closely!”

Without wasting another moment, he lowered his head between your thighs, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh.

your body trembling with need. When his tongue finally made contact, a moan escaped your lips, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

Cregan's tongue moved with practiced skill, each stroke and flick sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. His lips latched onto your clit, sucking gently before releasing it with a soft pop, only to dive back in with renewed fervor.

The lewd slurping sounds filled the room, mixing with your breathless moans and the crackling of the fire.

Your thighs quivered, the sensation of his mouth on you pushing you closer to the edge. "Cregan" you gasped loudly, your voice shaking. "Please, don't stop."

He didn't need to be told twice. His tongue delved deeper, exploring every inch of your soaking wet cunt, his fingers joining in to tease and caress. The combined sensations were overwhelming, your body arching off the bed as you rode the waves of pleasure.

When you finally came, it was with a cry of his name, your body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through you. Cregan didn't relent though, his tongue continuing its relentless assault, lapping up your juices with a moan, prolonging your climax until you were a trembling, breathless mess.

Only then did he pull back, his lips glistening with your arousal, his eyes dark with desire.

He moved up your body, his hands bracing on either side of your head as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

You could taste yourself on his lips, the intimate act deepening the connection between you.

But it still wasn’t enough for you, gathering your courage, you whispered, "Cregan?"

His eyes opened, soft and warm as they met yours. "Aye, love?"

You bit your lip, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks. "Can I... can I touch you?"

A spark of interest flared in his eyes, and he propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at you. "Touch me? Where?" He said teasingly.

You swallowed hard, your gaze dropping to where his cock lay, painfully hard and twitching. "There" you whined softly, reaching out tentatively.

Cregan's lips curved upwards. "Aye, love. Ye can touch me."

Your hand wrapped around his shaft, the heat of him searing your palm. You marveled at the feel of his skin, so smooth and yet so firm beneath your touch. Cregan's breath hitched, his muscles tensing as you explored him.

"Like this?" you asked, looking up at him for guidance.

He nodded, his voice rough with restraint.

"Aye, just like that. A bit firmer, love."

You tightened your grip slightly, your hand moving up and down his length in slow, deliberate strokes. The sight of him, so vulnerable and exposed, filled you with a heady sense of power and intimacy.

Cregan's hand covered yours, guiding your movements. "Tha's it, love. Yer doin' so well" he moaned, his voice laced with praise and pleasure.

As you continued to stroke him, you noticed a bead of precum forming at the tip. The sight of it, glistening and inviting, sparked a boldness within you. You couldn’t help yourself, you leaned forward, your tongue darting out to lick it away. Cregan groaned loudly, his hips bucking

involuntarily at the sensation.

"Fuck! Y/n" he gasped, his hand tightening around yours.

"Do that again."

You obliged, your tongue swirling around the thick head of his cock, tasting the salty essence of him. The act felt both daring and incredibly arousing, each lick eliciting a new sound of pleasure from Cregan.

Encouraged by his response, you took him deeper into your mouth, your lips closing around his shaft as you began to bob your head.

You were still unaccustomed to his size though, what you couldn’t fit in your mouth you stroked with your hand.

Cregan's hand tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as you pleasured him.

"Ye're so fuckin’ good to me, love" he groaned, his voice thick with need. "So perfect."

The praise spurred you on, your pace quickening as you took him deeper, your hand stroking the base of his cock in time with your movements. Cregan's breaths grew ragged, his body tense with the effort to hold back.

When he finally came, it was with a guttural moan, his release bursting in your mouth.

You swallowed eagerly, wanting to take all of him, to show him the same pleasure he had given you.

As you pulled back, you looked up at him, your eyes wide and full of adoration.

Cregan's chest heaved, his eyes glazed with satisfaction as he pulled you into his arms, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss.

But the night was far from over and the hunger in his eyes told you he was far from satisfied. You felt a renewed wave of desire wash over you, your body eager for more of him.

"Are ye ready for more, love?" he asked, his voice husky with desire. His hand trailed down your body, caressing your breasts and waist, finally coming to rest between your legs.

His fingers teased your wetness, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. "Yer so wet for me."

You nodded, your breath hitching as he continued to stroke you. "Yes, Cregan. I want you. I want you to take me."

His eyes darkened with a primal need, and he positioned himself between your legs, spreading them wide. "I'll be gentle at first, love," he promised, guiding his cock to your entrance.

"But I won't be able to hold back for long."

You felt the tip of his cock pressing against you, and your heart raced with anticipation.

He pushed forward slowly, entering you with a smooth, deliberate motion. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and painful sting as he stretched you to accommodate his large size.

Cregan's eyes never left yours, his gaze filled with love and desire. "Yer so tight, love. So perfect" he groaned, pushing deeper until he was fully seated inside you.

The feeling of being completely filled by him was indescribable, a blend of fullness and heat that made you gasp. "Cregan," you moaned, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

He began to move, his thrusts slow and gentle at first, allowing you to adjust to the sensation. But as your moans grew louder and your hips began to move in time with his, his restraint faltered. His pace quickened, each thrust deeper and harder than the last.

"You feel so good, Y/n," he growled, his voice rough with need. "I can't hold back any longer."

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he pounded into you.

The force of his thrusts drove you higher, making the bed hit the walls roughly, a testament to how greedily he was fucking into you.

Cregan shifted his position, lifting your legs higher and pressing them against your chest. The new angle allowed him to penetrate you even deeper, and you screamed his name as he took you harder.

"That's it, love. Take all of my cock," he urged, his eyes locked on your face, watching your every reaction.

The pressure built within you, the pleasure mounting to an unbearable peak. With a final, powerful thrust, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. Your body convulsed around him, gripping his cock as he continued to drive into you.

Cregan was relentless, his own release building. He flipped you onto your stomach, pulling you onto your hands and knees. He entered you from behind, his hands gripping your hips as he pounded into you with abandon.

"Fuck, Y/n" he groaned, his voice a rough whisper. "I'm gonna fill ye up. Every last drop."

Cregan's movements became more erratic as he neared his release, his breathing heavy and labored. You could feel the tension building within him, every muscle in his body coiling tighter and tighter. His thrusts grew deeper, more powerful, and you knew he was close.

With a final, powerful thrust, Cregan's hips stilled, pressing deep inside you. His entire body tensed, and he let out a loud, guttural groan, his face contorted in pleasure. You could feel the hot rush of his cum filling you, pulse after pulse, more than you had ever imagined. The sheer volume of it overwhelmed you, a torrent of heat flooding your insides.

"Fuck, Y/n," he groaned, his voice rough with satisfaction. "Take all of it. Every last drop."

He held himself inside you for a moment longer, his cock throbbing with each spurt of cum. Then, slowly, he began to pull out, the sensation almost too much to bear. As he withdrew, you felt a gush of his cum ooze out of you, warm and thick.

Cregan watched, mesmerized, as his release leaked from your entrance. The sight seemed to ignite something primal in him, and he quickly brought his fingers to your dripping core. He gently pushed two fingers inside you, making sure to plug the flow.

"Can't let it go to waste" he murmured, his voice a mix of possessiveness and tenderness. "Want every drop to stay inside ye."

His fingers moved within you, ensuring his cum was thoroughly spread.

You felt another wave of pleasure as he gently massaged your sensitive walls, the sensation of being so full and claimed by him overwhelming you. Cregan leaned down, kissing the small of your back, his breath warm against your skin. "Yer mine, Y/n. All mine," he whispered, his fingers still inside you, holding his seed in place.

You lay there, breathless and trembling, feeling utterly claimed and cherished by him.

Cregan slowly withdrew his fingers, ensuring that every drop of his cum remained inside you. He gently flipped you onto your back, his eyes filled with an intensity that made your heart race.

As he settled beside you, his strong arms wrapped around your body, pulling you close. His warmth enveloped you, a comforting contrast to the cool air of the room.

He pressed his lips to your forehead, a tender kiss that lingered. Then, he moved to your cheeks, planting soft, loving kisses on each one. His lips brushed your nose, and then he found your lips, kissing you with a gentleness that was almost reverent.

"Y/n" he murmured between kisses, his voice filled with emotion. "I'm so glad ye're mine."

You felt a swell of affection in your chest, the sweetness of his words and the tenderness of his touch filling you with a profound sense of belonging. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as he continued to kiss you.

Cregan's kisses were endless, each one a declaration of his love and devotion. He kissed your eyelids, your temples, your jawline, and your chin, his lips exploring every inch of your face with a loving intensity that made you feel cherished beyond measure.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "So perfect. I want to spend every moment of our lives together, showing ye how much I adore ye."

He held you tighter, his hands stroking your hair, your back, your sides. His touch was soothing, a balm to your still-racing heart.

The rough, demanding lover from moments ago was now a gentle giant, cradling you in his arms with infinite care.

Cregan pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Are ye alright, love?" he asked, his voice soft with concern. "Did I hurt ye?"

You shook your head, smiling up at him. "No, Cregan. You were perfect. I'm more than alright."

His expression softened even further, a look of relief washing over his face. "Good," he whispered, pressing another kiss to your lips. "I'll always take care of ye, Y/n. Always."

You nestled closer to him, resting your head on his broad chest. The rhythmic beat of his heart was a comforting lullaby, and you felt a deep sense of contentment wash over you.

A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground with no one around to see it. The thought lingered in your mind, a symbol of the unexpected beauty and love that had blossomed between you.

Cregan continued to kiss you, his lips never straying far from your skin, as he held you in a protective, loving embrace.

In that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. Cregan's sweet, endless kisses and his tender words were a promise of a future filled with love, passion, and unwavering devotion.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

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purplecoffee13 · 4 months ago

Text

NFWMB - part 1

Summary: “Harry is a retired boxer who owns a gym and teaches self-defense classes. He considers himself a strong man, but when a gorgeous innocent woman attends a try-out class, she manages to leave him weak in the knees…”

Wc: 4.3k

Tropes: boxer!Harry x innocent!reader

Warnings: mentions of violence and SA

A/N: hello everyone! This is my new series NFWMB, named after one of Hozier’s most horny songs😄. I am so incredibly excited for this series omg it’s gonna be so good!!! If you don’t believe me, go listen to NFWMB and you’ll get a vague idea of what’s coming ;)

P.S. header = pov change

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Harry Styles was not one for regrets.

His life may not have turned the way he expected it to, but he was still proud of where he had come.

Being a professional boxer was a risky job, and Harry had known that when he had decided that it was going to be his career. But there was no other logical option. Harry was an exceptional boxer who was able to go pro at age 18, where he defeated a lot of men who were older and bigger than him.

It was his passion, it always had been. Which was something that was quite remarkable, especially to his closer family members, because Harry was anything but a violent person in his day to day life. He was quite reserved, and managed his temper very well. The years in the boxing ring did harden him quite a bit, his reserved nature developing into something more akin to stoicism.

Nevertheless, Harry loved boxing. It wasn't so much a fight to him, but more of a puzzle. Each opponent had its own made up riddle, and it was up to Harry to solve it as quick as possible. Much like a dance you learn the steps to along the way. A perfect combination of intuitive technique.

He hadn't planned on having to retire at the age of 27 already. It was supposed to be his peak; it had been for almost all boxers in history, and he was looking forward to how far he would be able to push his body during his prime.

He never got the opportunity to get an answer to those questions. A car accident got in the way.

He wouldn't have been able to stop it, he knew that, and he had forbidden himself from thinking about what could've happened had he not taken that specific road back home that horrible night. There was nothing he could do about it now, so there was no point in dwelling on it.

After a year of recovery, he was slowly able to get back into the rhythm of his old life again. Well, except for the boxing part. Knowing that his career in that field was over, he began thinking about some other options of his, and decided on fulfilling another dream of his: opening a gym.

He had always wanted to do it, but he always imagined to be retired by the time he would start on that.

Now, two years later, his gym was already in multiple locations, but Harry was still working at the first one he opened. He would visit the other ones every once in a while to see how everything was going, but he was mainly at the one nearest to his house. It was special to him, the place where it all started.

Despite running the place, and therefore not needing to be on location all the time, Harry was at the gym 24/7. He wasn't a personal trainer—wasn't really his style—but he would help people and teach self defense classes to women.

Every Thursday between 6 and 9, he would teach groups of ten women everything they needed to know on defending themselves from whatever threat they may run into. It was one of the things he was proudest of; the turn out at those classes. That these women put their trust in him, and let him help them become even tougher than they already were.

Tonight, after teaching the last group, Harry had gone to the bar with some of his friends. One of them was Sophie, a woman he had become friends with since she'd joined his self defense class. She was a great person with an impeccable sense of humor, and Harry was glad he had introduced her to Greg, his best friend. They were basically made for each other.

Harry had to admit that he envied his friend for the relationship he had. He was happy for them, but sometimes couldn't help but think that his lack of a partner was this one puzzle piece that would make his life even better. All in good time, he reminded himself.

"Hey," Sophie caught Harry's attention when she waved her hand in front of his face. His gaze shot to hers, eyebrows raised. "So, I was talking about your self defense class today at work. You know, promoting your business and all."

Harry chuckled at the cocky tone in which Sophie told her story, chin up high. He mumble a soft 'thanks', to which she grinned.

"You're welcome. Anyways, I have this new colleague and she seemed so intrigued by it, but she was too insecure about joining. I mean— she didn't outright say that, but I could just tell." She huffed, Greg rubbing her back. Sophie was a very happy person in general and wanted the best for everyone, this new colleague of hers included. Harry had the same habit, it's why he immediately suggested:

"Why don't you invite her along next week? A free try-out."

"But your try-out classes aren't for another two weeks." Sophie noted.

It was true. The self defense classes had become very popular, and since Harry taught them himself, he had scheduled one night of try-out classes a month. He was only able to take on so many people, but he didn't mind making this exception.

"She can join your regular class." Harry shrugged, and Sophie's eyes beamed with excitement.

"Thank you Harry!" She squealed happily, giving Greg a hug to channel her enthusiasm. "Oh, I hope she'll come along!"

"I'm sure she will." Harry assured her with a smile, and took another sip from his beer.

Y/N had never been one for risks.

She had never been the type of person to take the leap of faith, relying more on familiar feeling of security. Why risk hurting yourself when you could be safe and content?

It was the logic she had always operated with, the logic she had been taught from a very young age. Y/N had had a sheltered upbringing. Her parents wanted her and her little brother to be as safe as possible, and that was just fine to Y/N.

Her little brother was the more feisty one of the two, and his childhood consisted of a lot of fighting. It hurt Y/N to see the people she loved so much be so angry all the time, and it only motivated her to be as good as possible. She never drank, smoked, or went to parties. She turned in her homework early and got an A on almost every test. It did put a strain on her relationship with her brother, especially since Y/N's behavior would be used as ammunition towards him.

They still didn't talk all too much, but Y/N hoped that one day, she could repair that relationship again.

Moving a few towns away was a big deal for her parents, but the wonderful job she had gotten as a secretary at quite a prestigious law firm had made it all worth it. They helped her with moving into her apartment, but Y/N would regularly visit them on both weekdays and on the weekends. All in all, she'd had a safe, comfortable, content life.

Until a few months ago.

It was a Friday night, and Y/N had agreed to a date. One of the lawyers at the firm, Oscar, had been flirting with her ever since she started working there. Not wanting to be impolite, Y/N never outright rejected him, and so the flirting continued. She was a bit uncomfortable about it — especially since he was nearing his forties and she was only 23 — but figured the banter was part of the job. She was so shocked when he did ask her to go on a date, she said yes.

It wouldn't be too bad, she figured. She would just go on the date and tell him she wasn't interested afterwards. It could be casual, and no one would be too hurt. The date was definitely out of her carefully moderated comfort zone, but she would step out of it for one night.

The date was fine. Like she had expected, she wasn't interested in Oscar in a romantic way. Still, she listened to his stories, laughed right on cue at all his jokes, and told some of her own anecdotes as well. The dinner was great, and he even offered to walk her home.

They were nearing Y/N's apartment when Oscar had suddenly slowed down his walking pace. She only noticed when she was a few feet away from him, and walked back to where Oscar was standing.

"Are you okay? We're almost there, I promise." Y/N smiled politely, much like she did in the office. Oscar didn't say anything in response, only the corners of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly.

"You're so beautiful, do you know that?" He complimented her, and Y/N looked at her feet, not quite knowing how to handle the flattery.

"Thank you." She said softly, and froze when Oscar's fingers tilted her chin upwards. Her eyes widened when he suddenly leaned in and put his mouth on hers. After the first few seconds of pure shock slowly passed, Y/N pulled her head back.

Not getting the hint, Oscar grinned and leaned in again, this time with both his hands on her face. Y/N let out a yelp, stumbling backwards. Her body's alarm bells were ringing so loudly, but Oscar must've been deaf to her body language because he backed her up against the wall and kept kissing her.

Y/N cried out as she tried to push Oscar off with her hands, but he only grabbed them and pinned them above her head. Finally, not knowing what else to do, she lifted her knee and kicked him right in the crotch. Oscar shot backwards, groaning loudly as his grip finally loosened on her. He looked incredibly angry.

"What the fuck?!" He bellowed, standing up straight again. Y/N's lip quivered, tears running down her face.

"You wouldn't stop." She said softly, almost in a whisper. Her entire body was shaking from the adrenaline. Oscar's mouth opened to say something, but the conversation got interrupted.

"Oscar!" A woman's voice shouted from down the street. He turned his head, and his face morphed from sheer rage into a lovely smile, the same one he always put up for Y/N back in the office.

"Sophie!" He said, but the mention of her name sounded strained. Sophie... Y/N recognized her name, but she hadn't ever met the woman. She was one of the three female lawyers at the firm. Had been working there for only five years, but her reputation was so badass, everyone knew who she was.

"What are you doing out tonight?" Sophie asked as she gave Oscar a hug, and turned to Y/N. "Who's this?"

"This is Y/N." Oscar replied. "She's a secretary at the firm."

"Nice to meet you." Y/N extended her hand, and Sophie shook it.

"Nice to meet you too! How come I've never seen you around?" She tilted her head.

"I— I work on a different floor."

"Well, I'm glad I met you, Y/N!" She said, the kindness in her tone being a real comfort after that scary moment she just had to live through. Somewhere in the way she said it, and in the way her eyes softened slightly, it almost felt like Sophie knew.

"I— I should go. It's getting pretty late." Y/N decided that this could be her sweet escape.

"Right, I'm gonna bring Y/N home." Oscar said, and your eyes shot to him. Anxiety filled your lungs until all you could breathe was fear. You didn't want to be alone with him. You had no idea what he would be able to do to you. What were you going to do about it? You weren't even half as strong as he was.

"Oh, which way is it?" Sophie asked, turning to Y/N, who was about to open her mouth but got interrupted by Oscar.

"That way." He pointed toward the direction of Y/N's house. Sophie side eyed her colleague, then nodded.

"Exactly the way I was going! Let's go." She hooked her arm into Y/N's, and began walking, ranting about how it was unacceptable that they didn't work on the same floor.

Y/N wordlessly nodded along, filled with gratefulness to Sophie or the universe—or both—for not leaving her alone with Oscar again.

She got home safely about five minutes later, not daring to look Oscar in the eyes as she hugged him and said goodbye, and she only allowed her tears to fall down her cheek when she closed her front door.

Y/N spent the rest of the weekend in bed, not in the mood to do anything. By Monday, she felt both better and worse. She had had some time to come down from the shock of what happened, but the terror that filled her at the realization that she was to see Oscar again, had her stomach turn. On Monday morning, she even got into work late as a result of a wave of nausea that hit her once she'd grabbed her keys, spending the time she used to drive to work to puke her guts out instead.

Later, she'd found out that Oscar had called in sick that day. It gave her some time and space to breathe. Sophie visited her the same day, and she hadn't stopped visiting since.

Oscar did eventually return to work, but they never talked anymore. Y/N didn't dare to look him in the eye, and she avoided him at all costs. One day, about two weeks after everything happened, she did see him waiting by her cubicle, but she hid in the toilet for half an hour and by the time she returned he was gone.

It had been two months since that horrible event, and Y/N had entirely isolated herself. Back to the normal routine, back to what was familiar. It gave her a sense of control. She was fragile, and sensitive. She had just pressed down her sadness and anxiety that lingered as a result from the date, and instead focused entirely on what she could control.

She figured it would be easier. Well, except for the mental breakdowns she'd get when something small didn't go right. The dishes not being cleaned, her vacuum not taking up every speck of dust; it just set her off. It wasn't healthy, but she had no idea how else to deal with these things.

When Sophie mentioned she was following self-defense classes a couple weeks ago, Y/N's ears had perked up. She tried to be subtle about it; asking questions to pry some information about the classes from her. But, being the amazing lawyer she was, it didn't go over Sophie's head, and before she knew it she had an invite to a class.

"See you next week!" Harry exclaimed as the last of the women from the 7pm class left the room. He was still busy putting everything back into place before the next class which would commence in about five minutes.

He was just about done with everything when Sophie walked in, another girl walking in close behind her. Harry couldn't really make up her face, as she stayed closely behind Sophie, even upon nearing him.

Sophie looked proud, probably feeling very accomplished about the fact that she had been able to convince this colleague of hers to take her up on her offer.

"Hey!" She greeted Harry cheerfully, giving him a quick hug. He was still smiling when he turned to the woman standing next to Sophie. His mouth went a bit dry when he took in her face.

"Harry, this is Y/N."

For starters, she was a bit shorter than Sophie, and quite frail too. Her hair was up in a ponytail, leaving her features to be admired out in the open. Her eyes were soft—radiating mostly insecurity at the moment—and wide. Those Bambi eyes and plump, rosy lips...

She looked so... innocent?

He wasn't sure if it was the right word, but he was sure that he had to say something before the silence became too long.

"Hi Y/N." He repeated her name, seeing the slightest flicker of surprise run through the eyes of the woman in front of him. But the slight relaxation of her body told him that his usual trick was working. It was a typical 'strategy' that he would often use with people who were a bit unsure about him. His voice would soften, he would always wear a hint of a smile on his face, and he'd repeat people's names to create a bit more of a familiar environment. It always worked, and he was glad it did. He never wanted anyone, especially a woman, to feel uncomfortable around him.

"Hi." The corners of her mouth tugged up.

Angel.

That's all he could think of as he looked at her. Jesus Christ, she was beautiful.

"Thank you for joining the class. You don't have to join in on everything if you don't feel comfortable. Just observe and see if this is something you would like to practice more often, okay?"

The girl in front of him nodded intently the second he had finished talking. Her eyes widened ever so slightly before she peeped out an, "okay."

Harry grinned, his gaze shooting to Sophie—who was looking at him with this suspicious look on her face that she only got once in a while—before calling everyone in a circle and commencing the class.

This girl, Y/N, turned out to be a real distraction for him. He was so focused on trying to read how she was feeling that he trailed off during explanations a couple times. It was embarrassing, really. He was a grown man for God's sake, why couldn't he just concentrate?

Y/N only joined in for a couple of the basic movements, but she stayed back for most of the class. Her big eyes observed every movement Harry and the others made, impressed with how developed everyone seemed to be in their techniques. He noted that it only seemed to make her more timid, though.

His eyebrows kept knitting every time he looked at her, getting lost in his thoughts on how he could help her become more comfortable in his class. She'd caught his stare about halfway through the class, and at the way her eyes shot to the floor he realized that his gaze was actually doing the completed opposite of what he wanted to do, which was help her.

When the class ended, Harry gave his usual speech about how good everyone had done their job, and that he would see them all next week. Afterwards there would always be a couple of women hanging around to ask questions, and he would stop a few on their way out to compliment their improvements. When the rest of the women had left, Sophie walked up to Harry, Y/N following closely behind.

"Great class, Styles. Thanks for teaching me some ass kicking again." She teased, smiling at him before she took a sip from her water bottle. Harry chuckled, shaking his head faintly.

"Glad you liked it." He turned to Y/N. "What about you?"

Her cheeks started heating up, mouth falling open ever so slightly. "M— me? Oh, uhm, yeah, pretty good."

"I'm going to use the bathroom really quick, I'll be right back." Sophie chimed in, and began walking towards the door. "Keep her company for me, will ya Styles?"

Harry almost laughed at how Y/N's eyes nearly popped out of her sockets at Sophie's announcement. She was nervous around him, and it was quite endearing, but she didn't need to be. Although it was very cute, Harry wanted her to be comfortable around her.

"You hated it, didn't you?" He said as soon as Sophie was out of sight. Harry was amused, watching Y/N scramble for words when she realized what he had said.

"What? No, no of course not! You're great! Teacher— you're a great teacher, I mean." She stumbled over every last one of her words, making it sound even less convincing than it already was, even though she did really mean it.

Harry solely raised his eyebrow, indicating that he did not buy any of that, and it was all it took for her shoulders to slump and a little sigh to leave those pretty lips of hers.

"It's really not you, I promise. I just get... a bit nervous in group settings, especially when it comes to sports. I don't even go to the gym." She confessed, and Harry nodded. That certainly made more sense. His heart warmed a bit at the fact that she reassured him that he wasn't the reason she wasn't liking the class all too much.

"Why don't you go to the gym?" Harry asked further, his tone soft. He didn't want to press too much, but he did want to know more about her.

"It's... embarrassing." She shrugged. Harry chuckled.

"I go to the gym all the time. I mean, I own this one. I can only imagine how embarrassing I must be." He joked. He had to say he thought it was pretty funny, the way she blushed as he teased her.

"No, I didn't mean it like that! You're not embarrassing at all— I mean, you’re like the opposite. You're lean, and strong. You have like— big arms and you know what you're doing." She ranted, and had no idea how much Harry's ego was fueled by the compliments she was unknowingly throwing at him. "Whereas I— I have no idea what to do at a gym. I hate the idea of people being able to watch me and judge me if they want. Not that I think everyone's focusing on me all the time! I— I don't think that..."

Y/N's heart was racing as she finally got herself to stop talking. It was a nervous habit she had always possessed. As soon as something got awkward, her mouth would open and it would just never shut again. All communication skills flew out the window as soon as something — or in this case someone — made her nervous. She couldn't even remember half the words she just said.

"I can teach you, if you want."

The offer was as unexpected to Y/N as it was to Harry. He hadn't quite anticipated the words rolling off his tongue, but he didn't regret them either.

"It'll be a private class, and it can be in a closed room, like this one, or after closing time. Whatever suits you." Harry tried his hardest to sound casual, and not like what he was offering was something he literally never did. He had to hire a cleaner at home because he was too busy to get around to cleaning the house, that's how much he had to do. But the prospect of losing even more free time did not seem to bother him at all. In fact, he hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer as he scanned her face and waited for her to say something.

"No, I wouldn't want to ask that of you. I'm sure you're busy with a lot of other things." She declined politely, but he didn't miss the glimmer of hope in her eyes. Those private classes had sounded intriguing to her, he just knew it. So instead of accepting her rejection, he shrugged.

"How about this. I'm always in till late on Tuesday's. If you're sure you don't want private lessons, that's fine. But if it does sound like something you want to do, just be there at 9. I'll be there either way." Harry suggested. He didn't wait for a response — hearing Sophie's footsteps nearing — and instead said,

"Just think about it, alright?"

Y/N merely nodded, not even able to croak out a 'yes' before Sophie walked back into the room.

"Okay, I'm ready to go. Y/N?" Sophie asked, watching as her friend agreed and grabbed her things before walking towards the door where Sophie stood.

"Thanks for the class." Y/N turned around and smiled at Harry, throwing him a small wave as she started following Sophie out the door.

"Anytime." He winked at her.

"Bye Styles!" Sophie shouted, her keys clinking as she waved at Harry, behind her.

"Bye Soph." Harry called out, his eyes still transfixed on the girl behind his friend.

He didn't take her eyes off her as they walked towards the exit, taking in every detail of her delicate body as she moved further and further away from him. She was painstakingly beautiful. How had she just walked in? As soon as the girls disappeared behind the door, Harry let out a big sigh.

"Fuck." He murmured under his breath.

He really hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer. Harry had very quickly and very suddenly developed this intense need to help the girl, and that couldn't mean anything good.

Maybe he'd never see her again. She did sound very unsure. Besides, who said that she even wanted to go to this class? For all Harry knew, Sophie could've just used her manipulative convincing tricks, and Y/N, the polite angel she was, would've felt too bad to decline. Maybe, she thought he was an ass and didn't want anything to do with him.

In spite of the countless theories flying through his head, he knew that she wanted it. He had seen it in her eyes. She did really want to join the class, she was simply too nervous. But whether she would take him up on the offer, that was the question. He'd have to wait until the following week.

Strangely enough, he couldn't wait until it was Tuesday. He couldn't wait to find out…

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mcondance · 7 months ago

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bubble pop electric ｡𖦹° spencer reid

18+ backseat sex duhhhh, afab!reader but no terms like ‘girl,’ just female anatomy, spencer’s fingers make an appearance again wowww, reader is in his lap, 1 direct hozier quote sue me, i’m still working on my writing style which isn’t important i just wanted to note that. you can listen to bubble pop electric by gwen stefani if you wanna feel the vibes, a bit unfinished i guess but i didn’t know where else to take it

tonight i’m gonna give you all my love in the backseat

the shuffling of clothes is almost the loudest thing in the car, only beat out by you and spencer’s heavy breathing and pounding hearts.

your whines and moans slip straight into his mouth— the two of you seem to have forgotten what it even means to separate from the other. you give him perfect notes like he’s playing you from the inside out. your kisses are all sloppy, unfocused and focused at the same time, spit-swapping between the two of you, his groans vibrating in his chest and into your mouth.

he curls his fingers up to kiss that spot inside you so deliberately your mind blanks, and you’re conflicted on what to focus on. his lips, or his fingers, or his sounds, or all of it at once.

yeah, all of it at once sounds great.

“you’re so pretty,” he confesses after one kiss and before another. he pauses for a second, to look. you’re so beautiful above him. the white light of the street lamps shines in through the car windows and illuminates your skin. you glow obscenely beautifully, so beautiful his brown eyes get glossy in awe.

he kisses you again, and you kiss him back like you’re begging for it. you’re always begging for it, always wanting to be wrapped up in his lips and sliding your tongue against his all messy.

you think you know insanity, that you’re as fucked as you can be right now, but that’s until through one loud pass and another you pick up the sound of the slipping and sliding of his fingers. your cunt sings out into the car and he breaks the kiss to shoot his eyes down between your legs, watching wide-eyed the lewd display you two have created.

how lewd it is.

he breathes raggedly, all keyed up. he can feel his blood boiling hot with how turned on he is.

it doesn’t take long for him to slip his fingers out of you and for the both of you to fumble with your buttons and clothes and zippers.

spencer’s nothing if not disgusting— he can’t help but rub his cock through your wetness, pupils dilating even bigger as he watches you cover him in sticky slick. its heavenly and horribly filthy all at the same time, how he taps it against your clit, softly, huffing out a laugh when you jump a little above him. the whine that leaks out of your throat is met with a hum of his own, a little sound of admiration.

spencer laughs when he sinks in. your whine is so melodic he finally tears his eyes from your cunt to your face, and god, he’s so fucking glad he did. your eyebrows are turned down, nose scrunched and lips pressed together. your eyes, hazy as they lock with his.

looking up at you is how he wants to fuck you always (at least, until he fucks you another way, it always changes). his hands find your waist and they dig in a little, slowly guiding you on his cock.

fuck.

a groan from spencer’s slack lips is what breaks the hanging silence in the car. the hypnosis that grips you both is shattered and his honest sound makes the heart between your legs pound and jump and you bring hips down on him just a little harder.

“oh my god,” he moans into your chest, his cheek rubbing against your shirt. “shit.” he’s rarely ever reduced to expletives to express himself, but when his hands are digging into your waist and you’re grinding on his lap like sin, he can’t find anything else to say.

you run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck and pull him, desperately, closer. lines have faded and been crossed and fucking in the backseat of a car shouldn’t feel this soft, but it does. your soft whines and moans and his earnest groans smooth out the rough edges of the circumstance, and leave sweetness in their wake. but its still lewd. it’s still sensual. he’s still fucking up into you, the sound of you two rubbing against each other still swirls in the car, he’s still cursing against your chest.

exhilaration flows through you. you and spencer never take anything too serious, especially with each other, and to be pulled over in his backseat, fogging up the windows and probably making the car shake, is what you and spencer do. it’s on-brand; of course you’d get so turned on you’d have no choice but to take it to the backseat.

it’s not like it’s the first time it’s happened, though. and it’ll happen again.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x black reader #spencer reid x black!reader #mcondance 2024

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hearts4renaa · 8 months ago

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SO HIGHSCHOOL ~

summary: all the corny, cute, romcom type things you guys do that makes everyone at NRC swoon. featuring the dorm leaders. contains: 1.4k words in total of fluff fluff and more fluff. gn reader, one of the lyrics i reference uses "her" but that's it. a/n: inspired by 'so high school' by taylor swift! i might make this into a series.... lololol we'll see! please enjoyy

“’Cause I feel so high school, every time I look at you ~”

“You knew what you wanted, and boy, you got her ~”

Riddle went above and beyond while courting you, giving you flowers, remembering and celebrating basically every important date, and eventually officially asking you to be his.

You giggle and almost coo when you open your locker to yet another small bundle of roses. You gently grab the small bouquet, letting yourself relish in both the floral scent and the affection you feel by this gesture. Ace and Deuce groan from besides you, already knowing who they’re from. “Geez, that guy and his roses, hey?” Ace comments. “That’s the third one within the past four weeks!”

You shush Ace playfully, your fingers trailing over the little paper tag attached to the ribbon. Your brain recognizes the penmanship almost immediately, for this handwriting has expressed numerous words of love towards you countless times before. Your heart flutters as your eyes scan the paper.

I love you forever, dearest.

“Truth, dare, spin bottles. You know how to ball, I know Aristotle ~”

You go to all of Leona’s Spelldrive games! you show up in Savanaclaw colors, your hair styled like his, and the biggest smile on earth.

“And look at that!” the Spelldrive announcer exclaims. “Yet another goal from Savanaclaw’s very own Housewarden,” The camera captures Leona’s signature smirk as he high fives a nearby teammate, high off the adrenaline of the game. “He’s playing well tonight,” The announcer speaks. “And I think we all know why!”

The camera pans to your absolutely shining face, cheering from the stands with crinkled eyes and hands clapping. Leona pauses for a moment to look at you, his eyes locating you almost immediately. “I love you, you’re doing great!” You mouth to him in pure excitement. Leona cracks a small smile before getting his head back in the game. He scored six more times that night.

“Get my car door, isn’t that sweet? Then pull me to the backseat ~”

Azul gives you total gentleman treatment! You haven’t opened a door in ages and you completely forgot what carrying a bag feels like.

“Thanks for tonight, Azul.” You smile at him as the two of you begin to approach the entrance of the Ramshackle dorm building. “I had a great time, as always. You didn’t have to walk me home, again, though.” You chuckle lightly. Azul gives a small smirk back, but his eyes gleam at your comments. His hand squeeze yours just a little tighter, and a faint blush starts to creep up his face.

“I’m glad,” He says softly. “And you know I’d do almost anything to spend more time with you.” Your front door comes fully into view and you feel as if it’s ending all too fast. Despite how many dates you’ve gone on, the rush of being out with Azul is something you’ll never get fully used to. He always leaves you craving him and his company. The two of you come to a still at your porch, and he turns to face you. He whispers your name, bringing your hand to his mouth and lightly kissing your knuckles. You swear that no fairytale prince could ever compete against him.

“I’m high from smoking your jokes all damn night ~”

You’re the first person Kalim looks at when he tells a joke. Taking you to his family home proved that he was absolutely serious about you, and it’s so evident that his siblings can see how much he loves you too.

The group of younger siblings burst into another fit of laughter at Kalim’s joke, as if they had never heard anything funnier in their lives. “Again, Kalim,” One of his brothers tugs on his sleeve. “Tell another one!”

While Kalim’s jokes were inevitably corny, you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh as well. The smiles of the little children were infectious, their energy fueling your own joy. Kalim tells another joke, but his eyes weren’t focused on his siblings’ reactions. No, he wasn’t even looking at their faces at all. His eyes automatically find your figure with each joke he tells, and he feels his heart swell each time you laugh. With your head thrown back and your eyes wrinkled with giggles, he’s never seen a sight more beautiful.

“Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me? It’s just a game, but really, I’m betting on all three, for us two ~”

Vil likes to mention you in his interviews, and he does it almost unconsciously. Questions about his romantic life are inevitable with someone of his level of fame, but he handles each one with grace.

The studio lights would be blinding for most, but Vil’s been in this industry for so long that he’s gotten used to it. The questions from the interview have been rapid fire, and Vil responds to each one with a graceful, almost calculated response. He’s been running on autopilot the entire morning; well, until your name gets brought up.

“Now, I just have to ask,” The interviewer crosses her legs and leans in towards Vil, as if he was telling her a secret. “Kiss, marry, kill: Taylor Swift, Katy Perry, and your partner, Y/N?”

He doesn’t hesitate for a moment before answering the question. “I wouldn’t kill any of them,” Vil responds with a small smirk. Kissing you is as easy as breathing to him, and the idea of marrying you sends a chill down his spine. He loves you like he was made for it, and his devotion shines like a glittering gem. Vil continues his response. “But the first two options are reserved for Y/N and Y/N only.”

“Brand new, full throttle. Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto ~”

Idia likes to have some sort of physical contact with you at all times. At first, he was really jumpy, but your touch has become a comfort to him.

You hum as you lean onto Idia, your head resting on his shoulder. The lights in his room are dim, save for the bright TV near the edge of his bed. Your left arm is linked with his right one and you nuzzle your cheek into the fabric of his sweater. The clicking sounds of Idia’s controller lull you into a drowsy state, the late hours starting to hit you.

Idia looks away from his game to gaze at your sleepy figure, and he feels his cheeks start to heat up. It’s definitely not the first time you’ve done this, but the intimacy of it all still brings a warm, fuzzy feeling into his chest. The idea that the two of you could simply link arms, sit in silence, and do your own things and be content astounds him just a little bit; He thought you would’ve gotten bored. Your affection for each other runs much deeper, but you can feel all of it in the form of linked arms.

“No one’s ever had me, not like you ~”

What’s there that Malleus doesn’t do for you? But seriously, one of his favorite things to do with you is stargaze at nighttime, where his affection for you is at an all time high.

The night air is soothing as the chill creeps up your skin, keeping you awake. Malleus sits next to you, his presence being a comfort. The moon is bright tonight, the field quiet, with the occasional chirp from the nearby birds. The stars in the sky create a masterpiece of little lights, and Malleus can’t help but stare at you like you’re a work of art.

Malleus rubs his thumb into the flesh of your hand, gazing at you with hearts in his eyes. He feels the sudden need to ask a question that’s been weighing on him for a little while. His voice rings in your ears.

“You truly don’t fear me?”

You giggle lightly, letting go of his hand and turning to fully face him. Your fingers brush past his cheeks, cupping them gently and bringing your foreheads together. “I could never,” You whisper, smiling brightly. “Not when you love me so deeply.” His heart swells with affection. You open your mouth to continue, but his lips crash against yours before you can get another word out.

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righoul · 2 months ago

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【Ｍｉｄｎｉｇｈｔ　Ｗｈｉｓｐｅｒｓ】

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

summary: it's your best friend's birthday, and she wants to go out to the club. you're not much of a party girl, but you do it anyways because you love her like a sister. it's a good thing you went, especially if it's a certain someone who can't keep his eyes off of you 😉

this kinda takes place in x-men origins: wolverine. that movie will always have a special place in my heart idc. also, I had a dream about this last night

warning: SMUT! 18+ MDNI. age gap, oral sex (f! receiving), cursing, unprotected PiV (don't be silly, wrap that willy), drinking, dirty talk, logan being kinda vocal, wingman!wade wilson, size difference, mention of anxiety (because mental health matters), praise kink, nicknames used: baby, darling, sweetheart, princess

words: 4.0k

Your best friend practically drags you through the mall as she makes a beeline to the dress store. What's the occasion, you may ask? It's her birthday today and she wants to go to a party at a club. You dread it, but if she is happy, you'll let down your antisocial wall. She's been begging on her hands and knees for you to come out and live your life. You hate crowded places, and you would much rather be in the comfort of your own home, in your sweatpants and tank top with a cozy cardigan and your hair in a messy bun while reading another Johanna Lindsey book. Is it cliché? Yes. Is it almost predictable? Fuck yes, but you love it anyways. You may call yourself a hopeless romantic, but your friend is right. You need to get laid ASAP.

While you were mindlessly going through all the various dresses on the clothes rack, your friend pulled you away as she already made some selections for you. "Come on, try these on!" she exclaims. Some of them are not bad, but others are just damn right ugly or not your style. As you are about to enter the changing room, you hear the one voice that could only mean one thing. Your best friend’s boyfriend. “Oh, sweetie pie!” Wade announces in a singsong tune. Oh, great. You don’t necessarily hate Wade, he treats your best friend well and she’s taken well care of, sure, but this day was supposed to be just the two of you.

“Hi, baby!” she squeals as Wade comes up to her and gives her a big old kiss in the mouth. Hey, God, it’s me again, you thought as you looked up at the ceiling. You close your eyes for just a few seconds to gather yourself and you look at the handsome pair. “Hey, Wade, it’s good to see you again.” You struggle to put the words together, but nonetheless, you put on a fake smile just to keep your friend happy. “It’s good to see you too,” he pulls you into a tight bear hug, cutting off your blood flow. “Oh, sorry, I’m just so excited to be here. I can’t miss out on this special day with my special girl.” He’s like a lovesick puppy. There was just something about Wade that made you be suspicious about him from the very beginning. He’s always gone, he doesn’t tell you or your bestie where he is or what he does. There was something off about him. Almost as if he’s living a double life. “Oh, honey!” your friend squeals again, giving him another open mouth kiss. Gross.

“Well, while you guys catch up, I’m going to go ahead and try these on.” You mumble as you hold up a pile of dresses in your arms. Off to the dressing room, you go.

The first dress you try on was a shiny, metallic gold halter top dress that stops at the mid thighs. On the front, it gives a deep V-neckline, making it hard to cover your breasts. It has slits on both sides, stopping at the waist and it is backless, curving at the bottom and stopping at the top of your ass. Sure, it was cute, if you were planning on being a stripper. You try on the next dress. Now, this one was cute, and you thought about saying yes to it just to get this over with. But you thought about it for a second longer and realized you’re going to be dying in it. It was black mesh sequin dress that barely covers your ass, and it had flare sleeves that are see-through. Last thing you want is to have sweaty armpits, causing the dress to have pit stains for the rest of the night. No, thanks. Next one. Too girly. Another one. Makes you look pale. The one after that. Cute, but not ideal for clubbing. Another one. This looks more like a prom dress than anything. You’re about to give up until you notice the last dress. You try it on, and lo and behold, this dress was the one. It is a dark green sequin mini dress that stops at mid-thigh with a sweetheart neckline with an adjustable skinny strap. Perfect.

You change back into your normal clothes, not even bothering to show it off to your best friend. Besides, she’s too busy with her boyfriend, practically eating each other’s faces. You made your way to the cash register, and you made your purchase. You thank them and make your way back to your friend and Wade, hopefully she got the hint that it was time to go. “Oh, you got a dress?” your friend asks. “Which one did you end up picking?” “You’ll see.” You reply mischievously with a little wink. She’s surprised about your remark, but she quickly brushes it off. Little did you know, while you were trying on all the dresses she picked out, her and Wade were conjuring up a plan. Wade was telling his girlfriend about his friend that he can set up with you. Well, he’s not exactly a friend, per se, but a fellow acquaintance of his. They work together, sure, but he’s kind of a grump. Now there’s just one problem. Wade hasn’t even talked to him about hooking up with you. Now that is going to be the tricky part.

“You think you can bring your friend along?” your friend asked. “Oh yeah, he’ll come.” Wade responded. Your friend was constantly looking over in your direction while you were in the changing room, hoping to not get caught by you. “What if this plan fails?” “Baby, it’ll work.” Wade puts his hands on her shoulders, soothing her. “I’ll make sure to see to it. Besides, he’s not a bad guy. Sure, he’s a little rough around the edges, but it’ll be good for him. For both of them.” Your friend lets out a deep sigh. “Okay. I trust you. But if this plan doesn’t work, you owe me big time.” She jammed her pointer finger at his chest harshly and Wade laughed, but he knew deep down inside, she scares him and that’s what he loves about her. She keeps him grounded, and he always makes sure to fulfill his promises.

*Later that night*

You put on your brand new dress that you bought and you put on a pair of black high heels to go along with it. Meanwhile, your friend put on a baby pink dress with puffy sleeves and white heels that wrap around the calves. She put on some subtle makeup while you put on a smoky appearance. Her hair was done in loose curls in a half low ponytail with a white bow and your hair was done straight as a pencil. When you walked out of your bedroom, your friend was surprised to say the least. She claimed that you look like a totally different person, but you brushed it off. You didn’t think she was being serious and you assumed she was just being nice because you both knew this isn’t like at all. But, she was right. You did look amazing.

You and your friend got there at the club, scanning to find Wade. You thought it was kind of weird that he didn’t pick you guys up at your place, but you dropped it pretty quick. You guys grabbed your drinks from the bar and went out to the dance floor. You were honestly having a good time. You felt so free. So liberating. Normally, you would feel anxious in large crowds like tonight, but with the help of some liquid courage, that all subsided. Wade finally came down to the dance floor and greeted your best friend with a kiss on the cheek.

“Happy birthday, baby!” Wade shouted over the loud bass of the music.

“Thank you!” your friend shouted back.

“Thanks for stopping by!”

“Yeah, of course, Y/N! I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

As you were about to throw back on your drink, your cup was empty.

“Hey! I’m about to get myself a round two! Did you want anything?” you asked your friend.

“I’m still working on mine! But, thank you!”

“I’ll be back!”

You sauntered your way back to the bar again and asked for the bartender.

“Rum and Coke, please.” you ordered your drink to the tall man behind the bar.

“You got it, miss.” he winked at you.

You felt flatter for the gesture, but you knew deep down you wouldn’t pursue it. Ever since you guys walked into this place, you had men staring at you nonstop. You felt like an innocent fawn in a den full of lions, greedily licking their lips and wanting to get a piece of meat out of you. All the barstools were taken up by men, and now that there was a pretty woman in their proximity, they all of a sudden didn’t know how to think with their heads, but with their dicks. All eyes were on you tonight. The anxiety was about to creep up to your throat to the point it felt hard to breathe. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. You should’ve stayed at home.

“That would be $5.50, miss.” the bartender smiles.

You were about to reach for your bag when you felt a large hand on your lower back. You looked over who it was, but looking over at the man to your right knocked the wind out of you. He was ruggedly handsome. He has dark brown hair that was done messily with mutton chops to go along with his fluffy hair. He wore dark blue jeans with a belt to hold it up to his hips, a pair of boots, a white wife beater, flannel, and a dark brown leather jacket to complete his bad boy exterior.

“I got it, darlin’,” the stranger looked at you, smugly. “don’t worry ‘bout it.”

You were just stunned, you didn’t know what to say. This man was so dangerously handsome, you’ll do anything to keep this man’s attention on you. But, remember what your friend taught you. Never chase after a man. If he wants you that badly, walk him like a dog. And you intend to do that.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” the man bent over to your right ear and said with his cockiness, “use your words.”

Shit, shit, shit. So much for taking the reign.

“Oh, um.. thank you.” you replied sweetly.

“Attagirl.”

Oh, so he wants to play that game. Well jokes on him, you can play along too. You have read so many scenarios where this plays out, it’s time to use that playbook. There was a spot that was available and the handsome fellow sat down, but still maintaining that contact with you.

“What’s your name, darlin’?”

“Y/N. What’s yours?”

“The name’s Logan.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

You didn’t know if it was the drink or you feeling bold, but you made your way to Logan and sat on his lap. His eyes widen and his jaw a little slacked, but quickly bounces back to his usual smug face before you could appreciate your small little victory. Your legs were across his laps and you kept your legs crossed on top of the other, giving Logan an aweing view of your scrumptious thighs. He had one hand placed on the small of your back, dangerously close to your ass and the other hand was resting outside your knee, rubbing small circles with his thumbs,

You guys have been talking and flirting for about 30 minutes, and everything was going so smoothly for tonight. There was a small part of you that didn’t want this night to end, but there was that sinking feeling that you felt that this was going to be a one time experience and you’ll never see him again. Your hand was resting at the nape of his neck, giving him light scratches. Logan let out some low purrs. He loves the way that you’re giving him all this attention from a pretty thing like yourself. But he had this gnawing feeling that he shouldn’t do this to you. You were so young and naive, you never really got to experience life to the fullest. He promised a friend that he was going to hook up with a girl that he knew, get acquainted and maybe get something more out of it. Possibly a relationship. But Logan knows that never comes easily with him. Everyone that he ever loved dies in the end. You were just so sweet and innocent. He couldn’t put you through that.

“Say, wanna get out of here?” Logan asked.

At first, you were hesitant. Wasn’t this what you wanted? I mean, yes. Look at him. This man is built like a god. You didn’t want to ditch your friend on her birthday to go sleep with some guy. But then again, you’ve been gone for a while and she didn’t seem to notice you. So, fuck it.

“Yeah, sure.” you replied.

You got off his lap and Logan got off his seat, and he walked you out of the busting night club. You both decided to go to your apartment where you were most comfortable. Logan didn’t seem to mind. It was probably for the best since your apartment is probably nicer than his and he wanted to make sure that you were comfortable. A gentleman, I know. You fished for your keys in your purse and let yourselves in.

“Please, make yourself at home.” you exclaimed. “Can I get you something?”

“You got any beer?” Logan asked.

“I got Budweiser. Is that okay?”

Logan would’ve died on the spot. It’s almost as if you were made for him. Like he drew a mental picture of you and manifested it.

“Now we’re talking.”

You giggled at his response and went to the fridge to grab two bottles. If Logan almost died from you knowing his favorite beer, he would’ve melted from your lovely laugh. You truly were made from him.

You both settled on the couch and facing each other, you both went back to talking from the last conversation at the bar. Logan, resting his arm behind the couch while nesting a bottle while you were curled up, tucking your feet behind you and resting a hand on your chin, honing in everything and digesting every word that comes out of his mouth.

“So, what was a pretty thing like yourself at a bar?” Logan asked.

“Oh, the funny thing is it’s my friend’s birthday and we were out celebrating.” I chuckled softly. “I guess she’s still there with her boyfriend so I don’t feel too guilty.”

Logan chuckled roughly. “Ah man, I’m sorry to drag you away.”

I waved my hand at him nonchalantly. “It’s not a big deal, really.”

After chatting again for about 15 minutes, you noticed that Logan is sitting closer and closer to you. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe because of how handsome he is. His lips were so close to yours, you could almost taste him. You caught him stealing a few glances down your chest, mentally undressing you, but you don’t seem to mind.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful tonight.” Logan whispered huskily.

You automatically placed your hand on his chest, chests basically touching.

“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.” I whispered seductively. “Mind taking me out of this dress?”

Logan’s heart stopped for a moment when you asked him so bluntly. Of course, he wasn’t going to pass this opportunity. So he reached behind you and unzipped your dress. He gently laid you back on the couch as you moved to take off his flannel shirt. He slowly pulled your straps down one by one, as he was taking his sweet time with you, trying to memorize every little thing about your body. Logan finally slipped your dress off of you and the only thing standing in his way is your black lace thong.

“Fuck.” Logan shuddered a groan.

You tried to cover yourself, but Logan took one of his hands and pinned both your wrists above your head.

“Don’t get all shy now with me.” Logan growled. “I wanna see it all.

I whimpered at his rough exterior and wrapped your legs around his waist. He purred in approval.

“Logan…” You moaned. “Let me touch you.”

Logan chuckled darkly as you begged and whined while you’re getting super soaked in your panties, it was leaving wet spots in his pants. He pressed his hard on your heated, needy pussy. You whimpered at the contact, arching your back, hoping to feel him.

“Ahh, pretty baby wants to touch me?” Logan teased.

You nodded your head and he laughed. He leaned down and started sucking your neck, leaving hickeys and love bites at its wake. You begin to moan, and he chuckles darkly as he’s leaving kisses down between your breasts. Logan sat up straight to remove his shirt and undo his belt. He slipped his pants and boxers down, and went down to come face to face to your pussy. He left a little kiss on your clothed pussy and you whimpered while arching your back so far, it almost didn’t look natural. He chuckled how reactive you are to him and he’s enjoying every bit of it. He went to pick you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He placed his hands on your ass, and leaned in for a kiss. You kissed him back happily as you took his face with your hands and you both moaned, fighting for dominance.

“Where’s your room, sweetheart?” Logan asked.

“First door on the right.” You moaned in his mouth.

He then leads you both to your room, still kissing you. As you both entered, he placed you on the bed as he crawled down on you. He forgot you still had your underwear on, so he ripped it off of your body. You gasped, not from ruining it but at how he ripped it off with ease.

“Sorry, princess. It was getting in the way.” Logan muttered and then he quickly went down to eat you out. You arched your back as you gripped the bed sheets. He placed his hand down on your lower stomach to hold you down. “Don’t move.” He growled as he looked up at you.

You fought your hardest to remain still. Logan went back to eat your pussy like a starved man, and you moved your fist to your mouth, biting back some moans. “Nah uh, I wanna hear you. I want this whole apartment to hear how good I’m makin’ ya feel.” Logan said roughly. You nodded your head as he went back to devouring his desert. You moaned loudly, it almost sounded pornographic and he chuckled darkly. “That’s it, darlin’. Attagirl.” He praised you. “Logan, I’m so..” You said sultry. “Go ahead. Come for me.” At demand, you did and you were starting to see white after this euphoric sensation and you were starting to come down from your high.

“On your hands and knees.” Logan demanded. You did as you were told and he purred at how easy you were to please. He’ll keep this in mind. He climbed behind you as he gripped your ass close to his hardened dick. He slowly smoothed your backside with one hand and he bent down to your ear, his cold dog tags touching your bare back, making you shiver. “Let me know if it gets too rough for ya.” Logan whispered sweetly. All you could do was nod your head. “I need words, sweetheart.” “Yes. Yes, I’ll let you know if it gets too much.” Logan smirked. “Attagirl.”

Logan then eased the tip of his cock into your heated entrance, and began to gasp heavily. “Oh, fuck.” You moaned and Logan chuckled. “Easy, princess, just breathe.” He slowly went inch by inch, feeling his length and his girth. It then becomes easy for you, going from painful to pleasure. Going from losing your breath to moaning into a hot mess. Logan began to pull back and slammed it back in. You jumped forward at the brutal force and you moaned in…pleasure? Pain? Honestly, who cares? It feels too good to stop. He kept pounding into you, starting to hit your cervix over and over again.

“Fuuuucck.” Logan growled as he looked up into the ceiling for a hot minute. He went to look back down as the relentless pounding is matching the rhythm to your ass bouncing back to his cock, making wet slapping noises. “You’re gonna be the death of me, princess.” You giggled at his comment as you turned your head at an angle to get a good look at him. Logan bent down again to kiss you on the lips, moaning into each other’s mouths.

Logan then flipped you on your back and his pounding into you again as you wrapped his legs around his waist. He went to intertwined his fingers into yours and he looked into your eyes. “Don’t close your eyes. I wanna see you come undone.” Logan warned. You nodded your head and said, “I won’t.” Logan nodded his head in approval. “Baby, I’m so close.” You moaned. “I know, I know. I’m right behind you.” You then reached your second climax of the night and you were spent. Logan’s hips started to stutter as he made a few good thrusts into you. “Where at?” Logan asked. “Inside. Safe.” You gasped between breaths, finding it hard to find the words. Logan nodded as he made one last thrust before he went still, painting your insides white.

Logan collapsed beside you and he pulled you into a lover’s embrace as you passed out. He kissed the top of your head as he whispered before you were completely out, “You did so good for me, baby. My perfect girl.”

The next morning, you stirred awake as you stretched your arms above your head. You looked out to your window and then you looked over to your right side of the bed, noticing that it was empty. Your heart sank to your chest. You were disappointed, but not surprised. Wishful thinking, you thought. You got out of bed and put on a fresh pair of panties and a short, silky bathrobe. You made your way to the kitchen and then you noticed a tan bare back with dark fluffy hair. He’s wearing his jeans low on his hips with no belt on. He’s cooking eggs and bacon on the stovetop. Logan turned around, took notice of your morning attire and he’s breath was taken away.

“Good morning, princess.” Logan said in his deep morning voice.

“Good morning.” You sighed happily. You went over to him and he grabbed you by the waist, making you gasp out loud. He leaned in for a kiss and you happily kissed him back.

“Oh, good!” Wade announced himself in the kitchen. “I see you met Y/N. The one that I mentioned to you before.”

Surprisingly, Logan didn’t growl at him. He stopped kissing you as you looked at Wade with a slack jaw like a fish in a hook. He went back to look down at you, and smiled, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you can say we got to know each other very well.” Logan winked at you after your “acquaintance” last night. You playfully slapped at his bare chest and he laughed.

“Next time if you guys are going to fuck, can you at least keep it down?” Wade whined. “It’s like coming across the Animal Channel.”

I picked up a towel and threw it at him. “Fuck off, will you, Wade?” Logan laughed as Wade scurried away. Logan wrapped his arms around my waist, palming my ass. “Hmmm. And here I thought I was gonna regret meeting you. But, Wade never described you. I guess I got lucky.” I leaned up to kiss him on the lips and he happily kissed me back. “To be honest, I didn’t know about any of this. I’m glad that I stumbled upon you.” Logan smirked at me. “Come on, before breakfast gets cold.”

#logan howlett #wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #hugh jackman #x men #xmen #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut

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doctorbeth · 2 months ago

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Pojo and Mambo's Hospital Visits

Hi All! I'm back with a bunch of new stories, and Pojo's is first. To paraphrase Panic at the Disco:

Here I come

Oh, how it's been so long

I'm so sorry I've been gone I've been busy writing posts for you!

Well, actually I've been busy taking care of stuffed animals, which then leads to stories that lead to posts but, you get the idea. :-)

Anyway... the first pair of patients I'm going to share are relatives (the same style of animal). They came to the hospital nearly four months apart. Pojo is about 2 feet tall, Mombo is closer to 3 feet, but their relationship will be obvious.

Here are Pojo's diagnosis photos:

I've seen some of his relatives in the past, so I knew he was originally an almost velvety fur, and he had red suspenders. Pojo had lived with his human for over 50 years. She wrote:

"As you can see his entire body needs to be replaced and re-stuffed. His plastic parts, if possible, need to be cleaned but if not, I love him the way he is. His pants, arms and head are black, his shirt is yellow and he has red suspenders. Please let me know if you can help him."

Now, as you may have realized by now, I try not to replace actual bodies, rather, we replace the stuffing as part of cleaning (because stuffing does not clean or dry well), and then recover. And that was the plan for Pojo when he arrived in May.

Here he is starting treatment with his bubble bath:

Next up, once he dried, was recovering his fur. A perfect texture match to his original fur isn't possible without a donor, so I sent photos of two options. One was a modern fluffier fur:

And the other was a modern minky fur which is smoother:

His human opted for the minky. So surgery proceeded till the next decision point, what ribbons for his new suspenders:

His human opted for the narrower fur.

Pojo was almost better.... last little bits included putting in his new heart (from the new minky fur) made with a bit of his original stuffing:

And then he was ready to fly home to Illinois:

His human's response? He is beautiful!

But I promised two chimps in this post and the second was here this past month. Mombo's predecessor had been with his person for over 60 years, but his condition was such that his human felt a new Mombo was needed. So he searched the web for a Mombo in better shape. He found one, but it was holding a banana in one hand, and needed stuffing and some seams tightened up. So the human opted to send the new Mombo to me, with the original Mombo's hand! The plan was to spruce up the new Mombo, repair his seams, replace his suspenders, and replace the banana hand with the original Mombo's hand. And here's the New Mombo (Mombo reincarnated?) all better and ready to fly home to Florida (you can see how much bigger he is than Pojo!):

Mombo's person wrote: He looks great n enjoyed the attention.

#zippy stuffed animal #bim zip zippy stuffed animal #stuffed animal repair #stuffed animal cleaning #vintage monkey stuffed animal #vintage monkey #monkey stuffed animal #chimpanzee stuffed animal #chimp stuffed animal #chimpanzee #monkey

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fxstpace · 1 month ago

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in the spirit of matrimony

summary: iwaizumi hajime is getting married and you and your ex, oikawa tooru, must pretend you’re still together to avoid ruining his big day. the charade, however, proves to be a lot more complicated than you thought.

⇢ pairing: oikawa tooru x fem!reader ⇢ genres: romance, angst, exes to lovers au, fake dating au ⇢ word count: 3.0k ⇢ warnings: profanity, alcohol consumption ⇢ a/n: reposted from my old blog (@/sokuroo).

Oikawa Tooru is currently using the shower in your hotel room, and you are running late for dinner with Iwaizumi Hajime because of this.

You sit on the plush armchair in the corner of the room, picking at the raised swirls and curlicues embroidered on the cushion. You’re supposed to be meeting with Iwaizumi for dinner in fifteen minutes, but Oikawa seems to be taking his own sweet time getting ready. You can’t say you’re surprised.

Irritated? Yes.

When he finally bursts out of the bathroom, looking like a Louis Vuitton model, you simply grab your purse and hotel card, and stride out the door without a second glance. Oikawa Tooru isn’t worth your time or energy—for now.

He catches up with you quickly—volleyball legs, and all that—and you can smell his perfume: Cremo spice and black vanilla. You hate the fact that you remember; you’d rather not, but he hasn’t changed the scent in five years and it’s always the little things that are the hardest to forget. In his black button down shirt and with his hair styled carefully with gel, Oikawa definitely looks attractive. He knows it, too, probably, and it gives you a twisted sort of satisfaction knowing that he can’t go about flirting with every person who catches his eye.

He simply cannot, because as far as Iwaizumi Hajime is concerned, you and Oikawa are still together.

“Don’t forget,” you mutter, just low enough that only he can hear you.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves his hand dismissively before tucking it back into his pocket. “It’s just Hajime. Don’t worry.”

You bite back a sigh. It would do you no good to appear so visibly vexed—and it would cause Hajime to worry unnecessarily, which does a lot more harm to everyone involved. The only thing you want him to be worried about is wedding preparations and becoming a husband in three days.

Your old friend meets you at the hotel lobby, right before Oikawa furtively slips his hand into yours. Iwaizumi looks tired—his clothes look rumpled and he has dark circles under his eyes—but he still smiles at you and Oikawa in the same way: boyish and crooked. You grin back at him.

“Hey, you two.” Iwaizumi opens his arms and pulls you in for a hug. His stubble brushes against your cheek, and you frown.

“You’re growing a beard?” you ask incredulously, when you pull away.

He chuckles. “I wish. I need to look handsome on the day of the wedding. Akari thinks it makes me look rugged.” He shrugs and adds, “Personally, I can’t tell the difference.”

“How’s Mrs. Iwaizumi doing?” Oikawa cuts in. He smiles at his best friend, a quick flash of his teeth that you haven’t seen in ages. It almost makes you wish he still smiled at you like that. Almost.

“Akari’s great,” Hajime answers, the edges of his smile turning fond. His fiancé is truly the sweetest, and she’s perfect for Iwaizumi in ways no one else ever could be. It’s difficult to doubt their love, and you consider yourself lucky to have witnessed them falling for each other in college. “Really great, actually. She told me to tell you she’s sorry she couldn’t make it today, but she can’t wait to see you both tomorrow.”

Your ex-boyfriend sighs dramatically. “Iwa-chan. The only entertaining person of the evening is missing. Whatever shall I do?”

“I’m sure your girlfriend will provide ample entertainment, Oikawa,” Hajime deadpans.

Your cheeks flood with heat at the implication. You’re the furthest thing from being Oikawa Tooru’s entertainment tonight, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s laughing internally at the predicament.

“She’s good at entertaining me with other things,” he retorts, waggling his eyebrows in that infuriating way of his. “Not funny enough, unfortunately.”

You bristle. “Uncalled for, Oikawa.”

He turns to you—the first time he’s looked at you properly since you arrived at the hotel in their hometown—and, taking your hand in his, rubs his thumb along the back of your palm. You nearly shiver; Oikawa used to do that all the time when you were still together, and the small gesture now makes a lump form in your throat.

“Just kidding, babe,” he says indulgently. “You know I make up for the lack of humour on your part.”

You have to give it to him. Oikawa Tooru is a magnificent actor.

The way he talks to you, as though both of you hadn’t walked out of the hotel room without saying a word to each other is a feat in itself. He speaks to you as though nothing has changed, as though everything about the way you’re projecting yourselves to your friend is completely natural. You close the hole in your chest where Oikawa used to reside; you will not fall for his little antics—not when he chose to leave you alone.

You roll your eyes, meeting Hajime’s fond—if exasperated—gaze. “Ignore him.”

“I’ve been doing it my entire life,” he responds.

“You are mean and I hate you both,” Oikawa whines. Both of you ignore him.

“Let’s go,” Hajime says. “The izakaya gets really crowded later in the night.”

You wipe your hands on the soft cotton of the oshibori, scanning the menu taped onto the wall. Next to you, Oikawa digs into the otoshi, and in front of you, Hajime sips on his glass of beer.

“Yakisoba noodles sounds good,” you murmur, “don’t you think?”

“I wan’ the chmmkn kraagh,” Oikawa says immediately through a mouthful of potato salad.

Iwaizumi sighs and translates, “He wants the chicken karaage.”

You scowl. You and Oikawa Tooru can never agree about things. You’re both too stubborn and hot-headed to budge from your opinions, and towards the end of your relationship, the number of petty arguments that were a result of your clashing personalities was high. At one point of time, you might have said that it was one of Oikawa’s qualities that you admired.

Right now, it just irks you to no end.

“We can order both,” you suggest. “Don’t talk with food in your mouth.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes. He makes a show of swallowing, exaggerating the bob of his throat, before he turns to you and states, “I want the chicken karaage, and I know Iwa-chan likes it more than yakisoba noodles.”

“Actually,” Hajime says mildly, “I kind of want the sashimi.”

“Let’s just order all three.” You bring your glass of beer to your lips and take a sip.

Iwaizumi looks curiously between you both. You take another sip of your beer, and you come to the realisation that for an outsider—like Hajime—you and Oikawa look absolutely nothing like a couple.

The fault is yours: You didn’t tell Hajime about your break up with Oikawa, and neither did he. Hajime still thinks you’re together. Neither you nor your ex-boyfriend are tactless enough to tell him that you aren’t dating anymore three days before he’s getting married. Iwaizumi is excited, and you aren’t about to dampen his happiness by telling him his two best friends haven’t spoken to each other in months.

That’s how, for the first time in ages, you and Oikawa Tooru decided that you couldn’t ruin Iwaizumi Hajime’s Big Day, and it was also how Operation: Pretend Like You’re Madly In Love So Your Surprisingly Intuitive Best Friend Doesn’t Feel Bad came about.

You set your beer down again, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Can I try some of that?” you ask, nudging Oikawa’s shoulder with yours.

He pauses mid-chew, chopsticks held high in the air. “Sure.”

You nudge his shoulder again, a little bit more forcefully this time. Oikawa glares at you. You narrow your eyes at him, trying to send him some sort of telepathic signal. His eyes widen.

“Here, babe,” he says, plastering a grin on his face. He picks up a chunk of the creamy potato salad that was served as the otoshi and holds it up. He uses his thumb and pointer finger to gently bring your face closer to his chopsticks. You fist your fingers, nails cutting crescents into your palms, and accept the mouthful he holds out to you.

“Good?” Oikawa murmurs, his eyes not leaving your face.

You hum. It is good, rich and tart with a touch of sweetness, but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to verbalise it. Your gaze flits downwards as you gently pull away from his grasp. Your jaw tingles where he held it.

Iwaizumi grins at you—almost knowingly—when you pick up your beer again. He holds a hand up, calling for the waiter to take your orders.

The alcohol washes down the taste of the food, but your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

It is always alcohol that loosens your tongue, and it’s the same for Oikawa Tooru as well. The beer you had at the izakaya lowers the towering walls between you both somewhat. It’s easier to speak to him, now, and after you switch on the lights in the hotel room and kick off your sandals, you whirl around and face Oikawa.

“What the hell was that?” you seethe, glaring at your ex-boyfriend.

He pauses in the middle of taking off his shoes. “What the hell was what?”

“You almost blew our cover! Didn’t you see the way Hajime looked at us?”

Oikawa cocks his head to the side, and his cluelessness only infuriates you even more.

“God, you haven’t changed one bit!” you rant. Your chest heaves with emotion—you’re not sure what emotion, exactly. Anger? Resentment? Foolish hope? Or perhaps a cocktail of all three that causes you to feel nothing but confusion. “Hajime is getting married in two days, and I know you couldn’t care less, but for his sake, can’t you make this whole—whole act more believable?”

“You— What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” Oikawa’s eyebrows raise upwards incredulously. “You think I don’t care about Iwaizumi’s wedding? I met him before I even knew you existed.” He scoffs. “Of fucking course I care!”

“Then would it kill you to act like you still love me?” You take a step forward, eyes narrowed and index finger pointing at him. “Is that it? Is it so repulsive to pretend like you still have feelings for me, so that your best friend doesn’t worry about us?”

“That’s not it, and you know it,” Oikawa snarls, a frown marring his features. “We should’ve told him as soon as it happened.”

Hearing him refer to your relationship as it feels like a slap to the face. You falter, cursing yourself inwardly.

Of course he doesn’t care for you now. Why would he, after he decided that long-distance relationships were too much effort? I don’t see us working out in the long run, he’d explained over FaceTime. I’m sorry.

Two days later, you declared yourself officially single. You burrowed yourself in piles of work and forgot to tell Iwaizumi Hajime because talking to Hajime would remind you of Oikawa, and you weren’t ready for that yet. Eventually, you just… didn’t tell him.

That’s why it came as an unwelcome surprise to you when you walked into the hotel lobby and found Oikawa Tooru waiting there, with his arms crossed over his chest and his suitcase by his feet. You’re here, he’d said, and you wanted to punch yourself for the way your heart somersaulted in your chest.

You finally find your voice again. “But we didn’t, so would it kill you to just… not be so fucking obvious?”

Oikawa remains stoic, though you suspect he’s just as agitated as you are. “Yes. I don’t want to do this at all.”

Something in you breaks. How easy it is for Oikawa to break your heart. You’d given him the fragile thing, made of glass, and he had knocked it over like it was a house of cards more than once.

“Fine,” you grit out, bending down and picking up your footwear again. The alcohol buzzing in your head isn’t enough—you need to stop thinking, need to find some way to stop yourself from constantly imagining him. “See if I care.”

You shoulder past him and place your hand on the doorknob.

“Where are you going?”

If you really strained your ears, you could almost hear the imperceptible concern in Oikawa’s voice. You brush it off; he doesn’t have any feelings towards you, as he’s made so amply clear.

“Why do you care?” you retort, before pushing open the door and heading in the direction of the hotel restaurant’s bar.

The room is dark when you open the door.

It’s a little past one in the morning—or so one of the bellhops had said when he kindly escorted you back to your room. Your mind is swirling.

It seems even getting yourself batshit drunk isn’t enough to eradicate all thoughts of Oikawa.

The walls spin. You stumble inside. Your hip bumps against something solid—a table, probably—and you let out a startled yelp.

Oikawa’s voice is like a balm, soothing your feverish forehead, when he says your name.

How are you supposed to get over him? How are you supposed to go back to living alone when you’ve had this taste of what it could be like, regardless of how authentic it is?

The answer is clear as day: You cannot.

A pair of hands guides you by the shoulders to the bed. Oikawa is careful, gentle with his hold on you. You sprawl on the bed sheets, the fabric cool against your cheek. He appears like an outline in the darkness.

“Are you okay?”

“God,” you mumble, screwing your eyes shut. “You can’t keep doing this to me, Oikawa.”

He remains silent for a moment, before he clears his throat and says, “You asked me why I care about where you go.”

You don’t say anything.

“I just do,” he continues, “and I don’t know how to explain it. But I do care.”

His fingers are warm when he caresses your cheek. The last thing you do before succumbing to sleep is murmur his name—a curse, but somehow reverent.

When you wake up the next morning, the sheets next to you are rumpled. There is no sign of Oikawa anywhere in the room, but there is a tall glass of water placed on the bedside table.

Through the pounding of your head, you squint at the note written using the hotel stationery placed beside it.

Drink up. Hajime and Akari are bringing us breakfast.

Breakfast is a lively affair. You’re glad to see Akari again, happy to see the to-be-newlyweds so patently in love with each other.

Oikawa keeps his hand on your thigh, steady and comforting, and offers you golden smiles whenever you catch his eye, and you swallow down the awful lump in your throat.

The day passes by in a blur.

It’s on the day before Iwaizumi’s wedding that Oikawa Tooru kisses you.

Wedding photos are unnecessary, you think. After all, you’re not the one getting married. But Akari had been insistent that you and Oikawa take some pictures together, and you couldn’t refuse her beseeching gaze.

Oikawa, clad in his dapper suit, with his hair styled using copious amounts of hair gel, places his hands on your waist and draws you in. His fingers bunch up the material of your dress. The photographer asks you to place your hands on his chest. His heartbeat is a steady thrum underneath the pads of your fingertips.

“Is this okay?” he whispers, leaning in.

You nod.

His mouth tastes like spearmint and the chocolate muffins he’d shared with you at breakfast.

The afternoon passes by in a daze.

As you walk through the wedding venue, noting all the decorations and the flower arrangements, Oikawa slips his hand into yours.

“You don’t have to,” you say. “No one’s here to see us.”

“I want to,” he replies simply. He is serious now, not his usual boisterous self, the way he is around Hajime and Akari. “It’s a nice place, no?”

You press your lips together. His words are oddly reminiscent of what he said the night you were drunk. Your stomach twists into knots, but if you don’t ask him the one question that has been nagging at you since then, who will do it for you?

“Tooru,” you say.

He stiffens. It’s the first time you’ve used his first name since you broke up with him.

“Why didn’t you tell Hajime we broke up?” you ask.

His shoulders loosen and his mouth twists upwards in a crooked, sad sort of smile.

“Because I love you, and breaking up with you broke me in some way.”

Your voice is quiet when you ask, “Why did you?”

“I didn’t want to be the one holding you back,” he says, just as quietly. “I didn’t want you to be constantly worrying about someone who didn’t even live in the same country as you. You deserve someone who will be there for you. Someone you can come home to after work, and talk about your day, and cook dinner together with. I couldn’t give you that.”

You want to hit him and kiss him at the same time. What a stupid, idiotic fool you’re in love with.

“Silly,” you say. “I only want you.”

The wedding happens on a sunny afternoon, and it is beautiful. Akari is radiant, and Hajime tells her that he’s the luckiest man ever. They are in love, and looking at them doesn’t hurt anymore. Your ex-boyfriend turned current boyfriend presses his shoulder against yours and gives you a small, knowing smile when he catches you almost tearing up. You nudge him back, and his smile grows into a grin that envelops his face in gold.

(“You’re the golden one,” he’ll tell you later, pressing feather-light kisses to your collarbones and cheeks. You’ll say he’s wrong.)

Right before the crowd disperses, Oikawa takes your hand and brings it to his lips. He presses a soft kiss against the knuckle of your ring finger.

Later, he whispers to you that it’s all in the spirit of matrimony.

Oikawa Tooru is using the shower in your bedroom, and he’s running late to catch his flight back to Argentina, and everything is perfect.

#oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #oikawa fluff #haikyuu fluff #oikawa angst #haikyuu angst #oikawa x you #haikyuu x you #oikawa tooru x reader #hq x reader #oikawa tooru fluff #hq fluff #oikawa tooru x you #hq x you #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq #oikawa tooru #haikyuu.

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yourlocalsmutwriter · 8 days ago

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A pound of flesh - Lewis Hamilton x reader

You hear Lewis coming home before you can see him. Usually, he'd stick with his trusty every day Mercedes, the electric car smooth and quiet. But today, it's the Ferrari he's taken back from the airport.

"Look who's here," you tell Roscoe, who's already throttling to the door, tail wagging.

Lewis unlocks the door and goes to pet his beloved dog, barely managing to drag in his luggage. He pauses the soft scratches against fur to hug you and give you a quick kiss.

"Welcome back." You say. Usually, he'd be spending more time in Abu Dhabi for testing, but with his team change, he was free.

"Good to be here. Let me unpack this, and then we can all go out on a walk?" He replies, knowing that Roscoe would love the extra time.

"You boys can go out on your own. You know I can't say no to your fans. I think I took around a thousand pics when I had this looker all to myself." You suggest, not in the mood to be mindful of every movement you make. Especially now, when your desire to have Lewis was increased tenfold. Nobody needed to see your flushed face and slight clench of thighs after even the smallest touch. You swear your boyfriend was coated in aphrodisiacs, you could never get enough of him.

He agreed with a promise to be back as soon as possible. He attaches the leash to Roscoe, grabs the biodegradable baggies, and they're off. You are left with the remaining suitcase and bag. You decide to unpack it and sort it out, acts of service, and all that.

Lewis' luggage is neat. Is it surprising that the grid's fashion icon is not a fan of wrinkled shirts. It's all smooth sailing until you reach the smallest pocket of his backpack. There's a bottle of lube? And a fleshlight. You weigh the unfamiliar object in your hands. Was there a possibility he got it early for Secret Santa? But then why would it be open? Had he actually used it? If he had, how much? And ho7w did it look like? You certainly jumped ship fast, picturing Lewis pumping into the soft silicone toy. Did he think of you while doing it? Moan your name quietly as he filled it up with his cum? Did he use it every time, or was it a more of a last ditch effort. Lewis, spent, his hands slick with his spit and precum. His cock throbbing, but needing something more. Needing a pussy to fuck, a soft wet heat to sink in. Him lifting his hips and thrusting in earnest, needing to bottom out. Testing out the pace, seeing how certain rhythms would feel with you.

The fleshlight captures your attention so well that you don't notice the man himself walking back in your bedroom.

"Jesus fuck, please don't touch that." He pipes up, when he realizes just what you're holding. He's embarrassed. To own a fleshlight, a pocket pussy wasn't really his style. Truth is the purchase was once a necessity. A quick dip into a sex shop abroad years ago. He kept in around, because how the fuck do you even recycle this thing. And lately it's been coming in handy (and so has he).

"But I have so many questions." You say as you're still holding the toy. Usually, you'd drop it. But this was a goldmine. So you start with

"When did you get this?"

"2020." He replies.

"Okay, so at least I don't have to worry about being bad at sex." You laugh. Lewis walks over to you, arms wrapping around your waist, lips on your neck. Between kisses on your collarbone, he whispers that you're a great fuck. But he's only trying to distract you from being curious. So you don't relent.

"Why do you have it?"

"I'm an athlete in one of the most competitive and dangerous sports in the world. Almost every weekend, I'm in a car, risking my life. So yeah, hard not to get pent up. It doesn't help that I was notoriously single for some years before you came along. Can't really have a one night stand when your face is on a newsstand." He tells you.

Lewis' hands drift to your hips and move up. You hold the fleshlight away from his reach, and he retaliates by squeezing your breasts. His fingers clamp around your nipples and twist. Despite your needy moans, despite his promises to "make it worth your while," if you stop discussing his sex toy, you continue.

"Can't you just, I don't know, take a cold shower. Meditate it away or something. Do you need to get off?"

"Who do I have to blame for this, huh? Who's the one sending me nudes, videos, begging me to guide her through it, to make her cum? Who's the one that fucking jumps my bones at every break. You got me so fucking pussy drunk that I can't help it. I need to be inside of something. Otherwise I can't fucking cum." He says as his hand trails back down to your cunt. Despite the layers between you, the rough denim of your jeans and the cotton of your panties, you still feel him.

"Does it feel good? Is it like the real thing?" You ask, still managing to focus. But your concentration is broken when he says.

"When I'm away, it feels perfect. But then, I don't fucking know how you feel. I remember, but it's not the same. So I guess that will remain a mystery. Unless you want to try out a little experiment.".

You get what he means, and you're on the bed, clothes off. You're on your back, nipples hard, thighs glistening with slick and the fleshlight right on top of your aching cunt. You expect Lewis to grab a condom. Instead he simply gets the lube. You don't need it, but you're guessing the toy does. He's rubbing your clit, while touching the silicone toy at the same time. It's the faintest of caresses, a light tease if anything.

Usually, he'd not take his time, especially now, after he'd been away for so long. He wanted nothing more than to fuck you fast and hard, to make you cum. But you had a lesson to learn. Don't pry. Don't be a tease. Don't try to switch on him. Do not take his control.

It wasn't like you hadn't been bratty before. You'd be mouthy, sure. But you'd take the consequences. Whether it was spanking, too many orgasms or none at all. And now you're getting this. Being compared to a pocket pussy.

Lewis was no stranger to using toys, even with you. In fact there was nothing he loved more than pressing a vibrator against your clit as he fucks you. The buzzing between you brings you closer, making you squeeze his cock. But this, the fleshlight was different.

“Be a good girl and hold it for me, will you. Need it steady." He reminds you. Lewis watches your fingers clench around it. Yet you're shaking, practically vibrating from pleasure.

He kept up his rhythm, twin fingers trailing paths up your slit and that of the toy. There was a clear winner. Even his high grade, vegan lube was no match for your wetness. You were so eager and needy for him, beyond ready for anything he could give you. But he was a man of his word, he wanted to show you just why you were better.

He finally, finally presses a finger against you and you're a goner.

"You're fucking soaked, huh." He asks, as if it isn't obvious. Your hips are buckling against him and he has to grip them to stop you from moving. Saying something about unfair advantage, he makes you still, and fucking stops. No pleasure would come your way if you didn't play by his made up, unknown rules. With a whine, you beg for his touch. But he still doesn't use his fingers on you again.

His cock moves against your clit, rubbing it, then doing the same thing to the toy you're still holding. He spreads it open and thrusts slowly, letting the silicone envelop his shaft. It's fine. Then your turn comes. He sinks in you and it's so much better. Your little gasp at the first inch. Your warmth, the way you can't help but wrap your legs against his waist, to pull him closer to you. He takes the fleshlight and tosses it on the floor, not giving a fuck about the mess.

"Does this answer your question? About which is better." He asks and rejoices that you can only whimper and beg for more as a response. Lewis guesses that the triple header was also hard on you.

"Tell me how it feels." He continues, fully intent on milking this moment forever.

"Feels so good, God I need you like this again. Need you inside of me. Need you to fill me up, please." Lewis doesn't hesitate, gripping your hips and bringing you closer to him. His fingers move to rub your clit and that's your undoing. His comes about a minute later when you look up at him and say the magic words “Lewis, please.”. As much as he wants to lay next to you and cuddle to sleep, he's a good partner. So he takes the fleshlight that started this all and gives it a good scrub with some water and soap. Then he takes a towel to clean up his girl.

“You know, I gotta let you find my sex toys next. Let's see what happens then.” you say, and your words are somewhere between a treat and a promise.

#f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 x you #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton x you

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usagii-bun · 2 months ago

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PART 3|| ⭑.ᐟ 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌| 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗋 ! 𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗆 𝗑 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 — 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝟣𝟪+ [MDNI]

— (𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗂𝗆𝗒𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗑.)

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒...in which you are a cam girl and he is your favorite viewer OR in which you are a final year college student and he is your new professor ♡

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌... smut, rough sex, oral sex (f and m),possessive sex, hair-pulling, vaginal fingering, spanking, masturbating( f and m), doggy style, mating press, language (these warnings are for all 4 parts)

also, please do like, reblog, and comment. i love to hear your thoughts about this <33

word count: 10.2k

As you enter the college hall, a familiar blend of nerves and anticipation washes over you, a feeling that has lingered since last night. The memory of your earlier slip sends a wave of heat to your cheeks, and you struggle to reconcile the embarrassment with the thrill of the moment.

'Professor' you had moaned during your cam session, the words escaping your lips before you even realised what you had said. Lost in a whirlwind of illicit fantasies about Alhaitham, you hadn’t registered the slip until it was too late.

Great. They probably think I have a professor kink. A thought that, while tempting to entertain, is one you refuse to acknowledge fully. The mere idea of facing Professor Alhaitham after your indiscretion makes you want to combust or just fucking disappear.

Last night, you had surrendered to the allure of your fantasies about him—four times—each time caught in a delusion about a man who, in reality, would never see you as a viable partner.

One you are his student.

Two, he seems to possess an almost otherworldly quality, as if he has emerged from the ether without parents to guide him.

Three, he exudes an aura that suggests he wouldn’t be interested in dating someone younger than himself.

And four, he is your professor.

He embodies everything you desire in a man: handsome, intelligent, and caring. You shake your head, inhaling deeply to clear the clutter of thoughts centered solely on him. If you’re going to survive this day without embarrassing yourself in his presence, you need to rein in your thoughts and emotions. With a confident smile, you push the doors open, your gaze sweeping across the room until it settles on him at the front.

“Fuck.”

Your resolve crumbles as your eyes lock onto Professor Alhaitham, who appears even more captivating today. The sight of him—tall and composed, absorbed in his notes—takes your breath away. He is already there, exuding an air of calm as he flips through his documents, completely unfazed. Dressed in a crisp white button-up shirt, the top button undone, revealing a hint of his collarbone, and fitted black slacks, he looks effortlessly sophisticated.

His tousled hair frames his face perfectly, and his glasses perch on the bridge of his nose as he reads. 'Please bend me over your desk and take me like the—' Your thoughts freeze as his gaze suddenly meets yours. In that moment, something shifts. His expression remains largely unchanged, yet the flicker of recognition in his eyes sends a jolt through you, leaving your heart racing and your mind reeling.

“Well, well,” he remarked, a dry amusement threading through his voice as he lifted his gaze to meet yours. “It’s so nice to see you on time for once.” The memory of your first encounter flooded back, a moment etched in your mind when he had delivered a sharp insult that stung more than you’d like to admit.

Your cheeks burned with lingering embarrassment, but you couldn’t resist the urge to scoff, rolling your eyes dramatically as you made your way across the room to your usual seat.

“What can I say?” you retorted, a thick layer of sarcasm coating your words. “I wouldn’t want to deprive myself of another opportunity to bask in the brilliance of your lectures.”

A faint smirk danced at the corners of his mouth, his eyes glinting with an intelligence that was both sharp and playful. “Careful,” he replied, his voice smooth as silk, each word deliberately measured. “Too much sarcasm, and the first-years might start thinking you’re only here for my company.”

Maybe I am here only for your company, you thought, directing him a subtle glare that barely masked the tumult of thoughts swirling in your mind. Memories of last night crept in, and you fought to anchor yourself back in the present, pushing aside the alluring distractions that threatened to pull you under.

His casual yet cutting remark sent a wave of heat to your cheeks despite your best efforts to remain unfazed. You opened your mouth to shoot back a snarky response, but the way his gaze lingered on you—intense and probing—made you falter, if only for a fleeting moment.

There was an unmistakable energy in his eyes—a blend of challenge and teasing—that left you feeling slightly unsettled.

“You seem a bit on edge today,” Alhaitham observed, his tone casual, yet there was a note of curiosity beneath it. “Oh, I just didn’t sleep well last night,” you deflected, the lie slipping easily from your lips as you tried to mask the real reason behind your unease. “Too much caffeine before bed.”

Alhaitham hums thoughtfully, a knowing glint in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. “Caffeine, huh?” he muses, tilting his head slightly as if weighing your words. “I suppose it’s easy to blame caffeine for sleepless nights. But you know, it’s often the mind that keeps us awake,” he replies, his voice smooth.

“Maybe you should try clearing your thoughts before bed instead.” He leans in slightly, “Or do you have other distractions keeping you up?” His tone is casual, but the underlying implication sends your heart racing.

You couldn't show that his words affected you, your mind racing about last night. You felt paranoid like as if he knew but you knew that was impossible as you meet his gaze, a mixture of surprise and intrigue washing over you. “I guess you could say that,” you reply, your voice steady despite the flutter in your stomach. “But it’s not always easy to silence a restless mind, especially with everything going on.” You lean back slightly, trying to play it cool.

You wanted to high five yourself for the sleek answer as you watched his expression change, your eyes focused everywhere but on his. “What about you? You seem like someone who has it all figured out.” Alhaitham chuckles softly, the sound low and almost intimate. “Is that what you think?” he asks, his eyes never leaving you even as you pointedly avoid his gaze. “I might be good at keeping things in order, but even I can’t escape a wandering mind sometimes.” He pauses, watching you fidget slightly. “Though I find that facing what’s on your mind is often more effective than avoiding it,” he adds, his voice dipping just enough to make your pulse quicken.

You shift uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze, heart racing, before deciding to escape the tension. You force a nervous smile as you slowly inch your way towards your desk. "Haha, wise words from a wise man,” you say with a light laugh, hoping to ease the tension, but the moment the words leave your mouth, you cringe internally.

Alhaitham raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “That’s a bit of a shallow observation, don’t you think?” His tone is calm, but there’s an edge of intellectual superiority that stings. “I expected something more insightful.” Your cheeks flush in embarrassment as you finally reach your seat, sinking into it quickly.

You drop your bag onto the desk, hoping the conversation is over, feeling the weight of his comment linger as you try to brush it off. you dropped your bag onto the desk and slid into your seat, opening your laptop to prepare the slides for today’s lesson. The early morning email from Alhaitham had come as a surprise, his note brief and to the point, requesting you to compile his last-minute thoughts into a presentation. He didn’t have time to do it himself.

“You could have sent me this last night, I spent my whole morning putting this together for you.” you whined, the words had slipped out before you could catch them, an echo of your frustration. “Oh, I didn’t want to worry you,” he had replied, his tone deceptively nonchalant. “I kept you late last night with our little dinner.” There had been a pause, a shift in his words.

“You probably had other, more important things to do after that.” Again, your paranoia ate at you. The implications hung in the air like a heavy fog, and heat rushed to your cheeks as your mind drifted back to your cam session, remembering the way you’d moaned his title for your audience. You turned back to the slides, flustered, trying to focus on the task at hand but you couldn't help but reply back. “Well, I would have still had it done,” you said defiantly, straightening in your seat and meeting his gaze.

“Then you would have probably slept throughout the whole morning and ended up coming late for my first-year lecture,” he countered, his voice smooth and unbothered. “Better than listening to you drone on like a monotone robot,” you replied, a smirk tugging at your lips as you leaned back in your chair.

“Touché,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. He straightened up, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. "But if I’m a robot, then that makes you my delightful assistant—crafted to enhance my teaching.” He says, his large body shadowing over yours as he stood infront of the desk you sat at, he tilts his head as if sizing you up.

“Crafted, huh?” you retorted, crossing your arms defiantly. “Maybe you should send me to a repair shop then; I’m definitely malfunctioning.” You raised an eyebrow, maintaining your playful stance, but the heat of his gaze made your heart race.

For a brief moment, the atmosphere shifted, the playful banter charged with an energy that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you draw your focus back on your laptop. You didn’t notice the subtle knowing smile that crept onto Alhaitham’s face as he walked around your desk, the air around him radiating warmth.

Then he stood behind you, leaning forward with one hand bracing the desk just beside your arm, the other slipping into his pocket. The proximity was almost suffocating, and before you could stop it, your mind drifted—back to last night, when you’d been in front of your camera, your body on display for your audience. Your face flushed at the memory, heart thudding wildly in your chest.

How could you think of it now? You’d been lost in your own little world last night, playing to the camera, murmuring 'Professor' in a breathy tone that was meant for faceless strangers.

But now, with him standing right here, close enough that you could smell his clean, woodsy scent, the recollection of your voice—his title—was all you could hear. Your breath hitched. The warmth of him, the way he leaned in just slightly, his scent swirling around you—it was almost too much.

Your heart raced, and for a second, the boundary between reality and fantasy blurred. You swallowed hard, biting your lip as your mind drifted to the idea of his body pressed behind you, his hands gripping your waist tightly— surely to leave his hand prints behind as he takes you from behind, the strong harsh thrusts of his hips slamming into your ass, his teeth biting into the exposed skin of your shoulder as he — A soft pat on your head jolted you back to reality, and you blinked, heat rushing to your cheeks.

The touch was so unexpected, so casual, that it shocked you back to the present. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “The slides look great. You’ve done well.” The praise hit you like a jolt of electricity, making your pulse stutter. There was something about the way he said it—calm, composed, yet laced with a teasing edge that made heat creep up your neck.

You could feel your entire body react, the tension coiling in your stomach as his hand lingered for just a moment longer than necessary before pulling away. You turned to look at him, to say thank you but instead your words were stuck in your throat. His face was inches away from yours, your eyes widen slightly.

“And also stop letting your mind wander while I talk to you; I’d prefer to think you’re hanging onto my every word,” Alhaitham said, his intense gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

You could hardly focus on the lecture as your mind spiraled into uncharted territory. 'Yeah, I’m actually thinking of hanging onto you as you push me against the wall and take control. ' The thought sent a rush of heat through your cheeks, and you quickly averted your gaze, trying to suppress the flustered smile threatening to break free.

“Right, because your words are the only thing worth hanging onto,” you shot back, attempting to sound more confident than you felt. “Next, you’ll be telling me you could give a TED talk on the art of monotony.” He chuckled softly, the sound low and amused.

“Monotony is a skill, you know. But perhaps I should consider changing my approach, just to keep your attention.” His smirk widened, and you could see a glint of mischief in his eyes as he added, “Or perhaps you need a more stimulating environment to stay engaged.” As he stepped back, the distance between you returned to its normal state, but the warmth lingered in your cheeks, along with the remnants of the heat his proximity had ignited.

For a second, you were grateful he couldn’t see your face when he turned his back towards you—flushed as it was with the sudden flood of thoughts—thoughts you shouldn’t be having in a classroom.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand, even as your heart raced, and your mind replayed his words. Good girl. You wanted to melt into the floor. The lecture began soon after, and despite your best efforts, your thoughts kept drifting.

Alhaitham’s voice was steady, commanding the room with his usual composed authority, but you found it hard to concentrate. Instead of taking notes, you doodled absently in the margins of your notebook, your mind wandering between the slides and the lingering warmth of his touch, the teasing praise he’d given you.

You had barely noticed the end of the lesson when the shuffle of students leaving the room pulled you back to reality. As you began to gather your things, Alhaitham, ever perceptive, leaned over and plucked the sheet of paper you’d been doodling on from the desk.

“Doodling, I see?” His voice carried that same air of dry amusement, his brow arching slightly as he looked at the aimless swirls of ink. “Not exactly an artistic masterpiece, I suppose you’d rather doodle than listen to me" he said, his voice smooth and teasing, “I could always give you a bunch of thesis papers to mark instead.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to resist. “Wouldn't want to ruin your flawless teaching reputation, Professor.” You gestured dramatically toward the stacks of papers on his desk. He tilted his head, a teasing glint in his eye.

“At least I’m not the one doodling during a lecture, potentially ruining my students’ futures.” He crossed his arms, feigning a look of mock disappointment. You let out a soft laugh, reaching to take the paper back, but he held it just out of reach, his expression maddeningly calm.

“I’m not here to make your lectures look good,” you shot back, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “I’m here because I have to be.” He gave a quiet chuckle, folding the paper and slipping it into his pocket like it was something valuable.

“Well,” he said, that same infuriating smirk tugging at his lips, “you’ve been doing quite well, as my assistant. Though I have to admit, your work ethic sometimes leaves room for improvement.” You narrowed your eyes at him, the subtle possessiveness in his tone slipping past you entirely.

“My work ethic?” you echoed, giving him an exaggerated look of mock offense. “I’d say you’re lucky to have me.” His smirk widened, the faintest hint of something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

“I never said otherwise.” There was a brief pause, and then, casually—almost too casually—he added, “I enjoyed your company last night.” Your heart skipped a beat.

He’d said it so smoothly, without a second thought, but it lingered in the air between you, heavy with implication. Your mind raced back to last night, the way he’d looked at you when you’d shared that quiet moment, the conversation last night felt just a little too intimate.

For a moment, you hesitated, unsure of how to respond. And then, with a small, teasing smile, you asked, “And... what would that make this, then? Another ‘company outing’?”

Does that mean he sees you more that his student ? Maybe he now saw you as a friend, that was a good step to getting closer to him ? Correct ?

He paused, his eyes flickering with something deeper, something darker. “Another… occasion for your assistance,” he replied smoothly, though the weight of his words seemed to carry a deeper meaning. “In a slightly different context.” Your breath caught at the subtle, suggestive undertone in his voice.

The way he said it—so calm, so controlled—made your heart race faster. “But not today. I have other plans for us,” Alhaitham said, his voice low and deliberate. Your brows furrowed as you processed his words, the weight of it hanging in the air.

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh really? Should I be concerned or flattered?” you shot back, sarcasm lacing your tone, though the flutter in your chest betrayed your casual front.

Alhaitham’s lips curved slightly. “Depends on how much you enjoy surprises,” he replied, his gaze still holding yours, the tension between you unmistakable.

“But what kind of surprise?” you asked, a hint of sarcasm in your tone, raising an eyebrow at him. Alhaitham’s gaze remained steady, lips curving into a faint smirk.

“Marking,” he replied simply, his tone casual, though there was an edge to it you couldn’t quite place. You blinked, unimpressed.

“Marking? That’s the big surprise?” He shrugged, leaning back slightly. “What? It’s important work,” he said, his voice laced with amusement, but the way he said it made you feel like there was something more lurking beneath the surface.

The walk back to his office was thick with tension, the quiet hallway amplifying every footstep. The college was nearly deserted, only the hum of distant lighting and the faint echo of their steps filling the space. The cool evening air filtered through the open windows, contrasting with the warmth that radiated between them.

Alhaitham towered over you, the height difference making you feel small but far from insignificant in his presence. When he unlocked the door to his office and gestured for you to enter, you weren’t prepared for what you saw—a pool table, sleek and out of place, dominating the room.

His office was a mix of academic and personal space, bookshelves lining the walls, his desk neatly stacked with papers, but the pool table stole your attention. You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him.

"Oh well this is new...I didn’t exactly peg you for someone who plays pool." Alhaitham grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"Professor...Kaveh’s doing. The idiot’s redoing his office and shoved it in here until he’s done." His tone was laced with annoyance as he shrugged off his coat, tossing it onto a nearby chair.

He moved with calculated ease, and when he turned to lock the door behind him, his gaze lingered on you, darker than usual. You stood there, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, feeling the weight of his attention.

You chuckled softly, taking a moment to admire the table’s polished surface. “I’ve never played before,” you confessed, glancing up at him. His usual detached demeanor softened slightly, something unfamiliar flickering in his eyes. "Well, why don’t I show you how it’s done? It’s Friday, after all. We can relax today instead of working." he said quietly, walking toward the table.

His voice was calm, but there was a dangerous undercurrent that made your pulse quicken.

"But what about the papers you wanted to mark ? 'The suprise' Don't you need to submit them soon?" you question, Alhaitham gazed back up at you and than at the clock on the wall.

"It's past my work hours. Once it hits five and I have no other obligations, I clock out." He says nonchalantly, your brows furrowed as you remember all those days he kept you way after 5 doing tedious and even sometimes silly tasks that kept you with him in his office till 7 or even later.

You didn't say anything as the thought of spending more time with him, just the two of you in this quiet office, sent a thrill through you. You glanced around, noticing how the dim lighting created a cozy atmosphere “You know what? Why not?” you replied, a grin spreading across your face as you finally relaxed to the idea or playing a simple game of pool with your professor.

Alhaitham smiled back, and you could feel the warmth of his gaze as he moved to set up the game. As he lined up the balls, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement.

This was an opportunity to see a different side of him, to explore the uncharted territory that lay between you. “Let’s see if you have any hidden talents,” he teased, a playful spark in his eyes a contrast to his usual dull and bored gaze.

You watched him as he lined up the balls, his movements so fluid and confident. There was no turning back now. The tension in the room seemed to thicken with every second as he handed you the cue stick, his fingers brushing against yours for a moment, sending a spark of electricity through your skin.

“Stand here,” he instructed, guiding you to the side of the table. “Grip the cue like this.” You tried to follow his directions, but your hands were unsteady, and your mind was racing too fast to fully focus on what he was saying. The room felt smaller, the air heavy and warm.

You could feel his presence behind you, the soft hum of his voice brushing against your ears as he explained the game. You attempted to hit the ball, but it only wobbled awkwardly across the table. Heat rose to your cheeks as you let out a nervous laugh, glancing at him sheepishly.

“I told you I wasn’t any good at this.” Alhaitham didn’t laugh. Instead, he stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours in a way that made your breath catch. “It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice lower now, almost a whisper.

He walks towards you but pauses. "Can I show you how to postion yourself?” His words were simple but they made your heartbeat faster. With just a simple nod of your head, Alhaitham slid behind you, you felt the warmth of his body pressed against yours— his chest pressed against your back as his hand reaches for yours that held the cue.

Your heart pounding in your chest as your hands turned clammy, trembling slightly under the weight of his. His large hand enveloped yours on the cue, steadying it. Your legs felt weak beneath you, and the strong scent of him washed over you like a wave, almost intoxicating. His chest pressed against your back—much closer than necessary—much closer than needed and the warmth of his breath ghosted across the nape of your neck, sending a cascade of goosebumps down your spine.

His grip tightened around your hand, guiding the cue, while his other hand held yours at the end of it. He bent forward, pressing his body against yours even more as he aligned you with the ball, leaving no space between the two of you. Your eyes widened, the sudden realization hitting you that you were completely caged beneath him, his strength and presence overwhelming.

Your mind raced, thoughts spinning out of control, each one more dangerous than the last. You were dangerously close to your professor, in a position you shouldn't even be in, it felt very intimate.

You had to leave before you overthought things, before you said or did something you'd regret.

“P-Pr-professor, it’s getting late,” you stammered nervously, trying to find your voice, but it came out as little more than a squeak. Instead of releasing you, his grip on your hands tightened, keeping you firmly in place as he aimed the cue at the ball.

“Oh?” he murmured, his voice deep and unsettlingly calm. He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear as he added, “Late, you say?”

Before you could respond, he cut you off with a chilling whisper.

“Are you getting late to go record yourself?”

Your heart stuttered, skipping a beat as your body went numb. A cold shiver ran down your spine. “W-what?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as panic surged through you. He smirked, the curve of his lips brushing your ear as he readied your hands and his to hit the ball.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” His voice was smooth, teasing. “Maybe I should be clearer. Are you getting late to go record yourself... and play with your cunt while thinking about your professor?” Your breath caught in your throat, a gasp stuck in your chest at the revelation of his words and the use of such a profanity coming out of his mouth.

As if on cue, he suddenly hit the ball, the clinking sound of the collision echoing in the tense silence. You stood there, frozen, pale as a ghost, your mind struggling to process what he had just said.

“H-how?” you whispered, your voice weak, barely holding on. “I’ve known you as Ms. Bunny for a while now. Three months, to be exact.” His voice was low, almost conversational, as if he were discussing something mundane. “I was never into things like cam girls, but you... you caught my eye. And as if fate threw the ball into my court, you walked right into my hands. My perfect little bunny.” Your breath hitched, your grip loosening on the cue as it clattered softly against the table.

His hands slid slowly, deliberately down your sides, his fingers tracing the curve of your hips, sending another wave of shivers through you. His lips hovered near the nape of your neck, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath, as if he were on the verge of kissing you. And in that moment, everything in you screamed to run, but you couldn’t move—trapped beneath him, caged by his words and touch. You were like a bunny caught in a wolf’s den—small, trembling, and helpless, every instinct telling you to flee, but your body refused to respond.

Your pulse thudded in your ears, drowning out everything else as your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. His presence towered over you, predatory, his touch both dangerous and deliberate, pinning you in place as if he could snap you up in an instant.

The air around you thickened, suffocating, as if the walls themselves were closing in. His breath on your neck, hot and teasing, sent another shiver coursing through you. You felt exposed, vulnerable, as though you were laid bare in front of him, no escape in sight.

His every movement was controlled, his hands firm and sure, while you were frozen, like prey paralyzed under the hunter's gaze, knowing you were outmatched yet powerless to resist. You felt his hands tighten around your waist as he suddenly turned you to face him, the movement both swift and controlled.

Your heart pounded violently, and before you could catch your breath, his thumb brushed against your bottom lip, pressing gently. His gaze locked onto yours, dark and unreadable, as if he could see through every defense you tried to put up.

"You're going to report me to the college ?" your voice trembling as tears threatening to spill from your eyes as your whole life flashed before your eyes—ruined.

“Report you?” he murmured, voice smooth like velvet, but the underlying tone was sharp, dangerously confident. “Why would I do that to my favorite student… and cam girl?” His thumb pressed a little harder against your lip, teasing, his eyes dragging slowly over your face as if savoring your reaction.

You were trembling, every inch of you on high alert, but then his next words slipped past his lips, low and intimate, sending a wave of heat straight to your core.

“You’re too valuable to me in both of your roles,” he whispered, leaning closer, his breath grazing your skin. “But I wonder…” He paused, his thumb pulling at your lip ever so slightly.

“Do you tremble like this when you’re thinking of me late at night?” Your thighs squeezed together involuntarily, the tension overwhelming, a response you couldn’t hide from him.

He smirked, clearly aware of the effect he had on you, his gaze never leaving yours as he leaned in closer, his presence suffocating in its intensity. Your stomach dropped, your entire body flushing with heat as you remembered last night—your body tangled in sheets, your lips parting with a moan as you fantasized about him.

You had no idea he was watching, no idea that he was aware of how deeply you wanted him. His eyes darkened with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.Your mind raced, a whirlwind of shock and confusion.

You felt exposed, vulnerable, as heat rushed to your cheeks. His gaze burned into yours, every word he said weaving a thread of tension that seemed to wrap tighter and tighter around the two of you.

“Every moan, every sigh,” he whispered, his voice dark and dangerously soft, “it intrigued me. You’ve always had a way of captivating an audience, captivating me.” The air between you crackled, the heat of his body so close to yours igniting every nerve.

His pale turquoise eyes, ringed with that striking shade of orange, roamed your face, lingering on your parted lips, on the flush of your cheeks, and the way your breath hitched in anticipation. His thumb traced your jawline slowly, sending shivers down your spine.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t think—only feel the magnetic pull of his presence, the intensity of his gaze. “I know you desire me as much as I desire you,” he stated, voice deep and sure, his eyes drinking in your reaction, locking onto the tears that glossed your wide eyes.

His words sent a surge of heat rushing through you, and before you could deny or confirm, his hand was already moving, trailing down your neck, fingers grazing the edge of your shirt. The tension built with each passing second, and just when you thought you couldn’t take it any longer, he leaned in.

His lips hovered over yours, his breath warm and teasing against your mouth. You felt every inch of him so close, his chest brushing against yours, the heat of his body seeping into yours. He hesitated for only a heartbeat, giving you a moment to pull away if you wanted to—but you didn’t.

Instead, you found yourself leaning in, closing the gap as if drawn by an invisible force. And then his lips captured yours. The kiss was slow at first, his mouth moving gently against yours, testing, teasing. But the moment you responded, his grip on you tightened, pulling you closer, the kiss deepening with an intensity that sent your heart racing.

His other hand slipped to the small of your back, fingers pressing against the fabric of your shirt, urging you closer to him. As Alhaitham’s lips moved against yours, the kiss deepened. His tongue slid between your parted lips, meeting yours in a slow, sensual dance. The heat of the moment overwhelmed you, and you responded instinctively, your tongue tangling with his in a battle for dominance that made your head spin.

Every touch of his tongue against yours sent shockwaves through your body, a fire igniting in your core as you pressed closer to him, seeking more. His large hands roamed over your back, one sliding up to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as he kissed you deeper, almost possessively. His other hand trailed down your side, fingers grazing the edge of your exposed skin, sending goosebumps across your body.

The kiss was intoxicating, and every movement of his tongue against yours sent a surge of electricity through your veins. His lips parted slightly, and his tongue dipped back into your mouth, exploring you with an almost deliberate slowness that made you weak in the knees. The warmth of his breath mixed with yours, the taste of him lingering on your lips as he pressed his body closer, trapping you against him.

You moaned softly into the kiss, the sound swallowed by his mouth as his hand moved to your waist, pulling you against him in a way that made your heart race even faster. His grip tightened as his tongue teased yours, the sensation of it sliding against yours both tender and demanding, filling you with a longing you hadn’t felt before.

You felt utterly consumed by him, the tension between you unbearable as his mouth worked expertly against yours, stealing every thought from your mind. Just as he reached to unhook your bra, his lips still pressed against yours, there was a knock at the door. Alhaitham paused for a moment, but instead of pulling away, he groaned lowly against your lips, his tongue still teasing yours as he kept you trapped in the kiss.

His hand, which had been ready to undo the clasp of your bra, stayed firmly in place as he pulled you even closer, as if refusing to be interrupted. He clearly wasn’t finished yet. You whimpered softly, the knock on the door barely registering as your senses were overwhelmed by his touch and the intoxicating way his tongue moved against yours.

Another knock echoed through the room, louder this time. Alhaitham swore under his breath, finally pulling away from the kiss but not letting go of you. His forehead rested against yours for a brief moment, his warm breath mingling with yours. "I locked the door," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, as if to reassure you that no one could just walk in.

But the knock persisted. With a frustrated sigh, Alhaitham glanced toward the door, clearly annoyed at the interruption. His eyes, now darker with unspoken desire, flickered back to you. "Get under the desk," he ordered softly, his voice carrying a weight that left no room for argument.

"You’re not exactly in a presentable state." You scrambled to obey, quickly adjusting your half-open shirt and ducking under his desk. The tension in the room was palpable, your heart still pounding from the kiss as you crouched down, hidden from view.

Alhaitham straightened himself up, his movements smooth and composed, though you could tell he was still agitated. His fingers combed through his hair, and with a deep breath, he crossed the room, unlocking the door and opening it to reveal Kaveh on the other side.

Kaveh strolled in uninvited, his presence filling the room like an obnoxious breeze. His platinum blonde hair caught the dim light of the office, gleaming as he leaned against the doorframe. He wore sleek trousers, the fabric light and fine, like silk. They crinkled softly as he shifted his weight, standing with one hip cocked. His shirt, loosely untucked, made him look both casual and out of place at this hour. The texture of his trousers was smooth, almost shimmering with the light sheen that played across the fabric, emphasizing the ease with which Kaveh carried himself.

Alhaitham’s jaw tightened in irritation. Without missing a beat, he subtly moved back toward his desk, his eyes glancing down at you hidden beneath it. Your heart raced, pulse quickening as you pressed yourself further into the shadows.

"Really, Kaveh," Alhaitham said, his voice carefully composed though laced with clear annoyance, "was there something urgent you needed?" He casually lowered himself into the desk chair, positioning himself in front of you.

As he did, his thighs brushed against either side of your face, enclosing your head between them. Your breath hitched, eyes widening in shock at how intimately close you suddenly were. The warmth of his body radiated against you, and the scent of him was stronger here, enveloping you entirely.

Your cheeks flushed with heat, your pulse racing at this unexpected situation, and you had to fight to stay still, afraid even the slightest movement would give you away. From above, Alhaitham sat calmly, looking at Kaveh with practiced nonchalance, though the tension in the room was palpable.

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back slightly in his chair, though the motion pressed the hard surface of his leg brushing against your chest as you tucked yourself away.

The space was small, the cool wood above your head a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from Alhaitham’s body. Your breath was shallow, heart pounding as you tried to settle into the cramped space. You could feel the steady rhythm of his pulse under your palm where it rested on his thigh, the taut muscle flexing as he moved to close the gap between his chair and the desk.

His thigh muscles were hard under your hand, and the scent of his clean, crisp cologne was intoxicating in such proximity. The subtle shift of fabric against your cheek made you hyperaware of how close you were to his crotch. “Alhaitham,” Kaveh huffed our, annoyed, “What’re you still doing here? I figured you’d have packed up like everyone else. Or are you hoping to sulk in solitude all night?” Alhaitham’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I prefer quiet. Unlike some people.”

Kaveh’s gaze darted to the pool table shoved against the far wall. “Speaking of quiet, how’s your student? I haven’t seen her around. Skipping out on you already?” He smirked, and Alhaitham’s jaw tightened. “She’s too busy working on her ‘mediocre distractions’ to bother showing up,” Alhaitham quipped dryly, a hint of annoyance bleeding into his voice.

He clearly didn’t like being put on the spot, and the casual insult about you grated on your nerves. Without thinking, you bit down on his thigh—just enough for him to feel it, just enough to remind him you were still there, listening.

He jolted, his leg twitching under your bite, a low gasp escaping his lips. The sudden rush of sensation caused his composure to falter, his fingers gripping the edge of the desk briefly. His sharp intake of breath made his pulse quicken, and you felt it through the taut muscles under your fingers.

Kaveh’s eyes narrowed, catching the subtle shift in Alhaitham’s expression. “Did you just hurt yourself sitting down? You’re not that old, are you?” Kaveh teased, eyes flicking from Alhaitham’s tightly clenched hands back to his face. “I... hit my knee,” Alhaitham muttered, the words forced, as if he were struggling to keep his voice steady.

“Waiting for you to leave is apparently hazardous to my health.” Kaveh scoffed, but his eyes twinkled with amusement. “It’s amazing you even have any patience left. Though, you really shouldn’t insult your assistant. From what I’ve seen, she does all the heavy lifting around here.” A wave of irritation surged through you, but your biting had only seemed to amuse Alhaitham more.

His thigh tensed beneath you as his fingers briefly brushed against the underside of the desk, almost as if warning you to stop. You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, torn between the embarrassment of the situation and the thrill of knowing that Kaveh was completely oblivious to your presence, hidden between Alhaitham’s legs.

“You’ve got no room to talk, Kaveh,” Alhaitham retorted coolly, trying to regain his composure despite the lingering sensation of your teeth on his skin.

“How are your selfcations going? Found anyone to tolerate you for longer than five minutes yet?” Kaveh’s face twisted into a mock pout. “I won’t grace you with my presence for a week, so enjoy the silence. And don’t forget to water my plants while I’m away.”

As Kaveh turned to leave, his eyes lingering on the desk for a moment longer than comfortable, Alhaitham shifted in his seat, pulling his chair closer to ensure you stayed completely hidden. You were tucked tightly between his thighs, your lips so close to the heat of his growing arousal that you could almost feel it through his trousers. The tension was unbearable, your heart thundering in your chest as you struggled to stay still, your mind racing with the illicit nature of it all.

Kaveh finally let out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I’ll leave you to your brooding. But don’t think you can insult your student without consequences. She’s probably the best thing you’ve got going for you.”

With a wave, Kaveh sauntered out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Alhaitham exhaled heavily, his body relaxing only slightly. His hand fell to your head, fingers threading into your hair, gripping just tight enough to send a shiver down your spine. You looked up at him from your position between his thighs, your face flushed, breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

When he glanced down at you, there was no mischievous glint in his eyes—only something darker, more consuming. His gaze roamed over your swollen lips, the rise and fall of your chest, and the way you still knelt between his legs, completely at his mercy.

“And you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shudder through you, “biting my thigh like that—what were you thinking?”

The look in his eyes was intense, magnetic, pulling you in. His fingers tightened their hold on your hair, tugging lightly as he leaned forward just enough that your breaths mingled, warm and shallow.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, “Maybe I wanted to see how you’d react.”

His lips quirked up, not in amusement, but in acknowledgment of the challenge. “Dangerous game, little one,” he whispered, his thumb brushing against the corner of your lip, smearing the remnants of your earlier kiss.

Alhaitham leaned back in his chair, the creak of the leather barely audible over the heavy, charged silence in the room. The air felt thick with tension, your face now so close to his growing arousal that your breaths mingled with the scent of him. The heat radiating from him made your pulse quicken, and when his hand moved to his belt, your heart stuttered in your chest.

His hand was steady, the fingers long, elegant but strong, with a certain grace as they worked the leather through the buckle. The light from the overhead lamp cast shadows across the veins on the back of his hand, tracing the subtle ridges of muscle. The buckle clicked open, and his fingers deftly undid the button of his trousers, the fabric parting to reveal the dark material of his boxers beneath.

He was thick and large underneath the thin material, your eyes trailing from the tip and towards the end— where his heavy balls with with cum laid beneath the thin material that covered it.

He paused, his eyes dropping to meet yours. There was no hesitation in his movements, but his gaze—intense and searching—lingered on you, as though he were gauging your reaction, watching for the smallest flicker of apprehension. But your eyes, heavy with arousal, met his in silent understanding, the tension crackling between you like a live wire.

His voice was deep, low as he commanded, “Just your mouth.”

A spark of nervousness shot through you at his words, and before you could stop yourself, you whispered, “What if someone walks in?”

A quiet, almost condescending chuckle slipped from his lips as his fingers slid into your hair, gripping just firmly enough to send a shiver down your spine. “You seem to thrive on the thrill of it,” he murmured, his tone as sharp as ever but layered with something darker, something that made the ache between your thighs all the more unbearable. “Now use that smart mouth of yours efficiently.”

His words settled over you like a challenge, and despite the flush of nerves still heating your skin, you leaned forward. Your lips ghosted over the soft fabric of his boxers, a tentative kiss pressed to the tip of the hard cock beneath. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed under your touch, but his grip on your hair remained steady, guiding, controlling. His breath hitched as your lips moved lower, your mouth parting to mouth along the outline of him, and you could feel the power shift in the way his fingers flexed in your hair.

This was different from anything you'd ever experienced before. The intimacy of it, the raw tension—it was overwhelming, and yet, you found yourself craving more, your pulse pounding in your ears as the space between you dissolved into something electric.

The fabric of his boxers was soft against your lips, but beneath it, the hardness of his cock was undeniable, pulsing with heat. You could feel his body tensing with every kiss and suckle you placed along his length, teasing, testing. The scent of him filled your senses, heady and intoxicating, and the weight of his hand in your hair kept you grounded, pulling you deeper into the moment.

Alhaitham’s breath came out in a slow, controlled exhale, but there was a tension to it, a subtle hitch that betrayed his usually calm exterior. He leaned back further in his chair, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he watched you. His grip tightened, fingers threading deeper into your hair, guiding you, though not forcefully. It was a subtle command, the unspoken desire behind it clear as his thumb grazed along your scalp, sending shivers down your spine.

You pressed another kiss to his boxers, this time bolder, your lips lingering a little longer. The heat radiating from his skin was almost overwhelming, and you could feel your own pulse quicken in response. Your heart raced, your body humming with a mix of nerves and anticipation as you leaned closer, letting your breath warm the space just above the waistband.

"Good," he murmured, voice low, vibrating with something restrained. His other hand had moved to his side, resting casually on the arm of his chair, but his fingers twitched, betraying the tension running through him. "But don’t be afraid to commit. I didn’t peg you for someone who holds back."

Your breath hitched at the sharp edge to his words, his usual intelligence now infused with a sensuality that made your knees feel weak. You pressed your lips more firmly against him, the friction of the fabric between you and his skin making your core throb with desire.

Without a word, you let your hands move to his thighs, your fingers sinking into the fabric of his trousers. The texture was smooth, fine, yet beneath it, the hard muscle of his legs tensed under your touch. You couldn’t help but bite your lip, the sensation of his powerful body so close making your pulse race, your thoughts scatter.

Your lips brushed lower, tracing the waistband with delicate, feather-light kisses. You could feel him shift, his grip in your hair tightening slightly, his breath coming faster, though he tried to keep it controlled. The anticipation in the air between you both was almost suffocating.

You let your teeth sink into the waistband tugging at it lightly as Alhaitham lifts his hips to help you remove the material. His hard cock gently tapped agaisnt your cheek when you had pulled the boxers down, precum streaked your rose tinted cheek.

Your eyes widen at the site of his cock that was mere inches away from your drooling mouth. The vein around his shaft throbbed in arousal, the pearly white liquid of his precum threatened to spill as his heavy balls pulsed with the need for your attention.

"Just like that," he whispered, the approval in his voice sending a wave of heat through you. His thumb grazed the nape of your neck, gentle but insistent, a subtle reminder of who held control, even as he unraveled beneath your touch.

You couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe that the man you had admired from a distance, the professor who had always seemed so untouchable, was now leaning back in his chair with his belt undone, his hand in your hair, letting you unravel him piece by piece. His dark eyes bore into yours, full of something that made your stomach flutter and your breath catch in your throat.

"Now," he said softly, his voice a low growl that sent shivers through your entire body, "let's see if you can use that mouth for more than just smart remarks." His fingers flexed in your hair, his gaze never leaving yours as he waited, tension coiling in the air between you both, thick and electric.

Your lips part, breath catching in your throat as you first press a gentle kiss on the rosy tip of his cock, your tongue peeked out from between your lips as you gave his slit a gentle kick, Alhaitham hissed at this fingers tighten around your hair, your eyes stare up at him with innocent as he groans.

You now decide to let your mouth to wrap around the mushroom tip, your tongue swirled around it, tasting the precum.

“fuck, your mouth’s so warm, bunny.” groaning so lowly, Alhaitham leaned his head back on the leather chair. caressing the top of your hair, strands in between his long digits, heavy breathing — and quiet whimpering.

You decide to be bolder as you let the whole length slide into your mouth and down your throat, your eyes briming with tears as his cock twitched in your mouth as you tightened your lips around his length and pulled back up, licking the beautiful rosy tip, kitty-like, right on the line of it while you looked at his teal-eyes from under his desk.

You carefully moved to not let any of your saliva nor his pre-and-soon-cum spill on his pants as you take him once again, the weight of him pressing heavily against your cheek. He’s thicker, heavier than you imagined—far more than any of the toys you’ve ever used—and the heat radiating off him is intoxicating. For a brief moment, uncertainty flickers through you, but when his fingers tighten in your hair, drawing your attention back to him, that hesitation melts away.

The warmth of his skin seeps into your mouth as you stretch your lips around him, taking in as much as you can. The reality of him, so solid and present, fills your senses, overwhelming in the best way. He twitches against your tongue as you move, and the way he lets out a low, satisfied sigh makes something stir deep inside you. “That’s it… just like that,” he murmurs, voice thick and breathless, his fingers flexing in your hair as he gently guides your movements.

You can feel the tension in his thighs as you press your nails into them, steadying yourself, but also earning a sharp intake of breath from him. The sensation of your teeth lightly grazing him causes him to tense, his hips jerking slightly in response. You try to take him deeper, but there’s no way to fit all of him—he’s too much and he didn't want you to use your hands on his cock— just your mouth, you work him slowly, savoring every reaction he gives you, every rough inhale as his hips move in rhythm with your mouth.

His voice is a low rumble above you, his words like velvet. “You’re even better than I imagined…” he mutters, his gaze fixed on you, dark and intense. His eyes drink in every detail—your lips stretched around his cock, the soft flush spreading across your cheeks. “All those nights watching… and now I have you here, real, and mine.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, heat pooling in your stomach as you moan softly against him, the vibration pulling another low groan from his chest. His reaction is instant—his hips pressing forward as he sinks deeper into your mouth, his fingers tightening their hold. You can feel him twitching against your tongue, responding to every little movement, every swirl of your lips.

Then, without warning, you feel something press firmly against the apex of your thighs—on your clothed cunt. The tip of his shoe, pressing into you through your clothes, the pressure sudden and overwhelming. Your eyes widen, a gasp caught in your throat as pleasure jolts through you. The heat between your legs intensifies, and you instinctively grind against the pressure, trying to relieve the ache building inside you. It’s too much, too soon, and your mind spins from the intensity of it all.

His voice drips with control, low and commanding as his hips begin to move faster. “You like that, don’t you? The thrill of being caught… the thrill of being under me.” He’s watching you closely, every flicker of your eyes, every twitch of your body, his own arousal spiking at the sight of you on your knees, lips wrapped around him.

Suddenly, his cock is deeply down your throat as you gag repeatedly. his fingers wrapped around your hair, holding it still while thrusting his hips up and beneath him, the ultimate choking mess, gasping for air, mumbling all sorts of pleading languidly — on the verge of tears and apparent faintness from the feeling of Alhaitham in your throat and the stimulation on your cunt.

"keep still and let me cum in your mouth pretty mouth, my sweet bunny." Alhaitham grunted, his eyes taking in the site of you.

Sweat beading up up along your forehead, your mouth shoved with his cock, your eyes blurring with tears, shirt hanging on your body exposing your bra, your fingers digging into his thighs and the site of you rutting your cunt against the sole of his shoe is what tips Alhaitham to the edge.

His release is sudden, hot and thick, spilling into your mouth. You struggle to swallow it all, the salty taste flooding your senses, but you do your best, even as it becomes difficult to breathe. You can feel him throbbing in your mouth, your lips still wrapped around him as his hips stutter to a stop, his chest heaving above you. His cock still in your mouth as it slowly softens but not completely. Your tongue desperately lapping up at his tip and he hisses from the overstimulation.

Alhaitham looked down to stare at your disheveled self, reddish swollen lips, doe eyes, watery eyelashes and finally letting you breath, patting your head. a string of saliva — and semen — connecting your lips to his tip, as you still rutted agaisnt his shoe, your arousal evident as it slowly leaked from beneath your skirt and glistened alongside your thigh.

When he finally pulls away, your mouth feels empty, your lips swollen and wet. You’re dazed, your heart still racing from the intensity of it all. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, tracing the wetness there, his gaze dark and heavy as he takes in the sight of you—your face flushed, your chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath.

“You did well,” he murmurs, his voice soft but full of satisfaction. The praise going straight to your cunt.

A small smirk plays at the corner of his mouth. “Better than I could have imagined. I’ve waited for this… and it was worth every second.”

As you catch your breath, his thumb lingers against your lip, pressing down gently as if to remind you of what just happened. You’re still trembling slightly, your legs weak beneath you, your body still buzzing with a mix of lingering pleasure and adrenaline. His gaze doesn’t leave yours, and when his hand falls from your lips, it moves to your hair, fingers threading through it, pulling you just a bit closer.

His leg, still pressed firmly against your sensitive core, shifts, sending another wave of heat rushing through you. But before you can fully register it, his hands slide down to your waist, gripping you tightly and pulling you up from your knees. Your body moves as if on instinct, and suddenly, you're on his lap, straddling him, your thighs bracketing his hips as he settles you against him as you felt his cock agaisnt your clothed pussy.

The world around you feels like it’s spinning—his hands are warm and strong as they hold you, his touch both commanding and careful, guiding your every movement. Your breath hitches as you feel the firmness of his chest against yours, his shirt slightly rumpled from how hurried everything had been. His belt is still undone, pants half-open, and the closeness of your bodies ignites something deeper within you. The friction of his cock brushing against your clothed mound as he adjusts you sends sparks up your spine, causing you to let out a soft, involuntary gasp.

His hands splay across your lower back, holding you flush against him, and the warmth of his body sears through the thin layers of fabric between you. His gaze never leaves yours—those sharp, intelligent eyes darkened by desire, searching your face, watching your every reaction. His lips quirk slightly, the hint of a smirk on his face, but there’s something else in his expression now—something raw, almost hungry.

You can feel his breath on your lips, warm and teasing, as he leans in closer, his fingers trailing up your spine, settling just between your shoulder blades. His mouth hovers near yours, but he doesn’t kiss you—not yet. He’s waiting, drawing out the moment, letting the tension coil tighter between you. Your heart pounds in your chest, every beat echoing in your ears as the heat between your legs grows, your body responding to his closeness, his touch.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. His eyes flick down to your slightly parted lips, swollen from the earlier kiss, then back up to meet yours. “I knew you’d feel like this… but having you here, in my lap, like this… it’s better than anything I could have imagined.”

His words send a rush of warmth through your body, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You’re acutely aware of the way his leg presses against you, the friction building with every slight shift of your hips. His hands, firm and confident, guide your movements as he leans back in his chair, settling you more comfortably against him. The pressure between your legs is almost unbearable now, and the way his body responds to yours—his growing arousal pressed against you—only heightens the sensation.

As your hips move slightly, the friction intensifies, and a soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it. His gaze sharpens, his fingers tightening their grip on your waist as his cock presses up against you, sending another pulse of heat through your core. His smirk grows, eyes gleaming with that knowing look as his fingers trace slow, deliberate patterns along your back.

“You like that?” His voice is a soft tease, laced with amusement, but also something deeper, more commanding. “The way I touch you… the way your body reacts.” His lips brush against your ear, the heat of his breath sending chills across your skin. “You’ve wanted this for a while, haven’t you? To be here, with me.”

His words stir something within you, a mix of excitement and vulnerability. Your body answers before your mind does—your hips rolling instinctively against him, chasing that friction, that warmth. His hands guide you, controlling the pace, slow but deliberate, teasing you, making you want more.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a near whisper. His eyes flick down to your lips once more before he closes the distance, finally pressing his mouth to yours in a kiss that’s slow and deep. The kiss feels different this time—more deliberate, more consuming. His lips move against yours with a steady, confident rhythm, and you melt into him, letting the kiss drown out everything else.

The room around you seems to fade away—there’s only him, the heat of his body, the way his lips claim yours, and the delicious pressure of his cock gainst your most sensitive spot. Every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of him, the scent of him, the sound of his breath mingling with yours.

When he finally pulls back, his thumb brushes gently across your bottom lip, swollen and slick from the kiss.

The silence in the room was thick, a comfortable intimacy hanging in the air between you, making every heartbeat feel amplified.

As you looked into his captivating light turquoise eyes, you didn't think before you let the words slip past your lips.

“Would you like to watch me stream in person?”

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