#i was just about to go through my bookshelf to see what i have and wipe it down a bit

[amethystarachnid]

BET

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst and fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: not requested but taken from MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 10k (damn this surprises me too)

ᯓ★ Summary: When Bucky Barnes suddenly starts talking to you you don't think much of it and when he asks you out on a date you couldn't be happier, Bucky truly is everything you could ever want in a man, a man that really loves you...At least that's what you thought until you discovered that it was real all just a bet.

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of virginity and virginity loss, small mentions of a smut scene

ᯓ★ AU: college au

ᯓ★ Request: not requested

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests closed)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The music is loud, pulsing through the walls of the frat house as Bucky sits slouched on a couch, one arm draped lazily over the back. The night is already wearing on him, but he knows he’s going to be here until Sam and Steve call it a night, which—based on the collection of red solo cups by their feet—might be a while.

They’re all trading stories from the semester, voices buzzing with that blend of laughter and cheap beer. Sam is in the middle of recounting his latest dare when he nudges Bucky’s arm, catching his attention.

“Bet you couldn’t last a month with someone like her,” Sam says, nodding toward the corner of the room.

Bucky glances up, following Sam’s gaze until he spots you. You’re perched near the bookshelf, alone and fidgeting with your drink as you flip through a book someone left behind. He’s seen you around campus before, usually with your nose buried in a novel or surrounded by a pile of textbooks. There’s something unassuming about you, something quiet and untouchable. His friends know he’s more the type to go for a party girl—someone loud, someone who doesn’t ask too many questions.

“What, the bookworm?” Bucky scoffs, raising an eyebrow. But his friends don’t let up, and soon Steve and Sam are egging him on.

“You’re always chasing the same type,” Steve chimes in. “What are you afraid of, that she’d actually challenge you?”

Bucky laughs, rolling his eyes. He knows he should shut it down, but their teasing digs at him, scratching at that competitive edge that’s always lurking just beneath his smirk.

“All right,” Bucky finally says, shrugging. “I’ll do it. One month.”

His friends exchange knowing grins, slapping him on the back. But as soon as the words leave his mouth, Bucky feels a strange knot settle low in his stomach—a feeling he’s not used to. He brushes it off. It’s just a game, a challenge. It’s not like he’s actually going to care.

The next day, you’re tucked into your usual corner in the library, surrounded by a fortress of books. You barely notice him when he walks up, leaning against the edge of the table with a casual confidence that doesn’t match the usual quiet of the space.

“Mind if I join you?” His voice is smooth, low enough that you almost have to lean in to hear him clearly.

You glance up, surprised to see Bucky Barnes standing there, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You’ve seen him around campus—he’s hard to miss with that leather jacket and effortlessly messy hair, the type of guy who always has someone laughing beside him.

“Sure,” you murmur, unsure of what else to say as you move your books aside, offering him a seat. You’re used to people mostly ignoring you here. It’s your refuge, your sanctuary. So when he sits across from you, stretching out as if he belongs there, it feels jarringly out of place.

“You look like you’re buried in work,” he observes, nodding at the mountain of papers in front of you. “What’s got you so busy?”

You hesitate, but something in his easygoing manner convinces you to answer. “Just…assignments. Trying to keep up with everything.” You give him a small smile, your guard still up but feeling oddly curious.

“What’s your major?” he asks, and the question catches you off guard. Most people don’t bother to ask; they assume or don’t care enough to wonder. He listens as you talk about your studies, nodding, asking small questions. Before you know it, you’re telling him more than you intended, falling into an easy rhythm that surprises you.

It becomes a pattern. Over the next few weeks, he finds reasons to run into you—at the coffee shop, in the library, even in the quad between classes. Each time, he stays a little longer, asks a little more, his eyes holding yours with that subtle intensity he wears so well. At first, you’re wary, cautious of his attention. But Bucky is good, easing his way in like he has all the time in the world, his jokes and questions slowly weaving a thread of trust between you two.

And Bucky? He’s surprised at how much he finds himself drawn to you. Each time you laugh, he catches himself watching, feeling something strange and warm unfurl in his chest. There’s a gentleness in you, a quiet intelligence, that keeps him coming back even as he reminds himself this isn’t supposed to mean anything.

But the longer he spends time with you, the more he feels the weight of what he agreed to, creeping up on him every time he catches your smile, every time you look at him like he’s someone worth knowing.

He tells himself it’s just part of the bet. But deep down, he knows he’s starting to cross a line he never meant to touch.

It’s been a few weeks since Bucky started spending time with you, and against every reminder he gives himself, he’s found himself looking forward to it more than he wants to admit. He tells himself it’s harmless—he’s just getting to know you, just finding ways to pass the time. But he knows he’s lying, especially when he starts finding excuses to see you outside of the library or when he catches himself glancing at his phone, hoping for a text from you.

One night, back at the frat house, he’s lounging with Sam and Steve again, half-listening to their conversation when Sam nudges him.

“So, Barnes. How’s it going with the bookworm?” Sam asks with a knowing smirk. Bucky rolls his eyes, trying to brush it off, but Sam isn’t so easily deterred. “Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings.”

Bucky scoffs, forcing a laugh to keep the truth buried. “It’s going fine. Like I said, a month’s no problem.”

Sam exchanges a glance with Steve, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Let’s make this interesting then. If you really want to win this thing, you’ve got to take it further.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches. “Further?” He has a bad feeling about where this is going.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Come on, Buck. You’ve been hanging out with her, sure, but we’re talking about actually making her fall for you. Ask her out, and, you know—” He raises an eyebrow meaningfully.

“Sleep with her,” Sam adds bluntly, laughing. “Seal the deal, and there’s two hundred bucks in it for you.”

Bucky hesitates, that uncomfortable knot tightening in his stomach again. He tells himself it’s just a stupid bet. He’s done things like this before—gotten close to people just to prove he could, had plenty of meaningless hookups that never meant a thing. He’s Bucky Barnes, the guy who doesn’t do commitment or complications. But for some reason, picturing it with you makes him feel…off.

“Fine,” he says after a beat, his voice steady, betraying nothing of the uncertainty he’s trying to ignore. “Two hundred bucks. Done.”

The next day, he texts you, his fingers hovering over the keys a little too long before he finally sends, Hey, you free Friday? Let me take you out somewhere nice.

When you see his message, your heart skips a beat. It’s been a while since anyone has asked you on an actual date, and even longer since you’ve felt genuinely excited about someone. Bucky’s been different from the start—warm, attentive, and surprisingly easy to talk to. You’ve caught yourself looking forward to his company, replaying the moments he laughs at one of your jokes or leans in close enough for you to catch a hint of his cologne.

After a second, you type back, Yeah, I’d love to! You add a smiley face, feeling almost giddy as you press send.

The days leading up to Friday drag by, each one marked with bursts of nerves and anticipation. You spend a little more time getting ready than usual, finally deciding on a simple but pretty dress that makes you feel confident. When Bucky picks you up, his usual leather jacket replaced with a dark button-up, you feel a thrill of excitement. He looks genuinely happy to see you, his eyes scanning over you appreciatively as he gives you a lopsided grin.

“You look amazing,” he says, his gaze warm. There’s something softer in his eyes, something that makes you blush.

“Thanks,” you mumble, smiling as you walk beside him. He leads you to a small Italian place tucked away from campus, the kind of cozy, dimly lit restaurant you wouldn’t have expected him to know about. The conversation flows easily between you two, laughter spilling out as you talk about classes, hometowns, and childhood memories.

The night feels magical, almost surreal, and you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s something real here. Every time his hand brushes against yours, a spark shoots up your spine. And when he reaches across the table, fingers lightly grazing your wrist as he laughs at something you said, your heart flutters in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying.

After dinner, he suggests taking a walk, and soon you’re strolling through the quiet streets, the chill of the night air making you shiver just slightly. Without a word, Bucky slips his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. It feels so natural, like you belong there.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a date this nice,” you admit, smiling up at him, your voice soft.

He chuckles, though it sounds slightly strained. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

You shrug, trying to brush it off. “I guess I’ve just never…met anyone like you before.”

There’s a flash of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced with that charming grin. He steps closer, his arm slipping from your shoulders, and you hold your breath as he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low.

You feel like the world has stopped, your heart pounding in your chest. This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of, the moment where everything finally falls into place.

But for Bucky, something sharp and painful twists inside him. He can feel the weight of what he’s doing pressing down on him, can see the way your eyes look at him with such unguarded trust, and it’s enough to make his stomach turn. He’s never felt guilty over a stupid bet before, but right now, the idea of hurting you feels unbearable.

“Hey,” he says softly, his hand still on your cheek. “You trust me, right?”

Your eyes widen, and you nod slowly, too caught up in the moment to notice the tension in his gaze. “Yeah,” you whisper, a small smile forming on your lips.

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours as he takes a steadying breath. “Good,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. Because if he’s going to go through with this, he tells himself he has to believe that none of it matters—that he won’t let himself care. But even as he kisses you, his lips soft and warm against yours, he knows he’s lying to himself.

The days after that first date drift into a series of moments that feel surreal, almost like they’re happening to someone else. You find yourself checking your phone at odd times, waiting for his texts, smiling down at your screen whenever his name lights up. Bucky is a part of your routine now, and it feels strange, thrilling even, like there’s this magnetic force that draws you to him despite every bit of caution you try to hold onto.

Every time you’re with him, the outside world fades. He makes you laugh with stories about his friends, leaning in close, his voice warm and low as if he’s sharing some secret just for you. You catch yourself stealing glances when he’s not looking—at the way his jaw clenches when he’s lost in thought or how his eyes soften when he looks at you, a mix of curiosity and something you can’t quite name.

It’s after one of your study sessions at the library that Bucky invites you over to his dorm room for the first time. He tells you he’s got some old movies you’ve probably never seen, and, honestly, he’s right—you’d never pictured Bucky as the type to own black-and-white classics, but that’s exactly what he has, a surprisingly large collection lined up on a low shelf near his TV. He insists you pick one, and soon you’re sitting side by side on his couch, your legs tucked up beneath you, feeling almost shy in the soft glow of the screen.

The movie starts, but his arm stretches along the back of the couch, barely brushing your shoulders. The faintest touch sends electricity through you, but you stay quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment. Then, halfway through the movie, he shifts, glancing at you.

“You can get closer, you know,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with something mischievous yet gentle.

Your heart flutters as you scoot closer, until you’re tucked into his side, his arm draped around you in a way that feels possessive yet comforting. He smells faintly like cedar and something distinctly him, a scent that’s becoming familiar. Before you know it, your head is resting on his shoulder, his hand absently tracing patterns on your arm, and you feel like you could stay there forever.

Time slips by in a collection of small, perfect moments. There are more dates—little coffee shops tucked away from campus, a bookstore where he buys you a copy of a novel you mentioned in passing, a late-night diner where you both end up after laughing so hard that you can’t breathe. You never expected him to be so attentive, so eager to listen to your stories and learn every detail about your life. He even surprises you with your favorite snack on study nights, tossing it to you with a grin before leaning in close to steal a bite for himself.

One evening, after a long day of classes and a surprise text from Bucky inviting you over, you find yourself curled up on his couch once again. This time, he’s stretched out beside you, one arm tucked under his head while the other rests around your shoulders. His fingers brush against your arm absently, and you can’t help but notice how natural this feels. It’s terrifying, too, the way he seems to melt into your life so effortlessly, as if he’s always been there.

You glance up at him, catching him mid-laugh as he recounts an embarrassing story about Sam, who apparently tried to show off on a skateboard and ended up with a sprained ankle.

“You’re terrible,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder, though you’re laughing too.

“Oh, come on. It was hilarious,” he insists, grinning down at you. He tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your lips for just a second, and your laughter fades as something shifts between you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint smile. “I just…can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to reply. But then he leans down, his lips brushing yours with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. The kiss deepens slowly, each touch feeling like a promise, and you lose yourself in the warmth of his embrace, forgetting every doubt, every insecurity that ever kept you guarded.

As the weeks pass, you find yourself falling harder than you ever expected. Bucky seems to find every crack in your armor, every scar and hidden fear, and instead of pulling away, he draws closer, listening to your stories and letting you into his own in ways that leave you breathless. He’s there to listen on your tough days, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring words of reassurance. He’s there on your good days, too, laughing with you, pressing kisses to your forehead as if he can’t believe his luck.

One night, you’re back on his couch, cuddled up under a thick blanket as a storm rages outside, the rain tapping against the windows. You’re nestled against him, his arm holding you close, and he’s quiet, his fingers tracing patterns along your shoulder absentmindedly.

“Bucky?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to yours, his eyes soft and warm in the dim light.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “For everything.”

He frowns slightly, shifting so he can look at you fully. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he says, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Being with you…it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

You smile, warmth spreading through your chest, and he kisses you again, slow and soft, like he’s savoring every second. It’s moments like this that make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re finally safe with someone, that this is something real.

But for Bucky, each moment with you is a double-edged sword. He’s never felt this way before—this calm, this…connected. Every time you laugh at one of his jokes or lean against him, trusting and unguarded, he feels that awful twist of guilt, the memory of that stupid bet lurking in the back of his mind.

He’s supposed to ask for more. That’s what Sam and Steve were expecting, weren’t they? They wanted him to win the bet, to seal the deal and prove he could pull this off. But every time he thinks about going further, about pushing this relationship into a place where he can’t turn back, he feels that nagging ache, that quiet, gnawing feeling that he’s crossing a line he can’t uncross.

He knows he needs to tell you. He needs to come clean, but every time he opens his mouth, the words get stuck in his throat. You look at him with those bright, trusting eyes, and he can’t bring himself to shatter the way you see him. So he holds his silence, hoping that somehow, he can bury the truth forever, that maybe you’ll never have to know.

One evening, as you’re lying together on his couch, you let out a contented sigh, resting your head on his chest as his hand traces lazy patterns along your back.

“Bucky?” you whisper, your voice soft.

He glances down at you, his fingers pausing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah?”

You hesitate, then take a steadying breath. “I…I think I’m falling for you.”

The words hang in the air, vulnerable and open, and for a second, his face goes still, his eyes widening just slightly. Then, his expression softens, and he tightens his arms around you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. But as he kisses you, the warmth of his touch hiding the flicker of guilt behind his eyes, a single thought haunts him.

She deserves the truth.

That night, Bucky barely sleeps, lying awake with the knowledge that he’s in far too deep to ever come out of this unscathed. Every soft breath you take beside him reminds him of how much he’s risking by staying silent. He knows he has to tell you, but he’s terrified—terrified that this fragile, beautiful thing you’ve built together will shatter, that you’ll look at him with betrayal instead of trust.

In the morning, he makes a decision. He’ll find a way to tell you, he promises himself, but he wants one more day, one more memory before he risks everything. Just one last perfect day where he can pretend that none of it was ever a lie.

So he takes you out, leading you down to the pier just as the sun begins to set, casting the sky in hues of pink and gold. You laugh, leaning into him, and he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, watching the waves lap against the shore.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice soft. “It is.”

But as he stands there, holding you close, he knows that the beauty of this moment is fleeting, that the truth waiting in his chest is too big to ignore. And tonight, when he finally gathers the courage to tell you, he knows there’s a chance he’ll lose you forever. But for now, he lets himself savor this last quiet moment, memorizing the feeling of you in his arms, the warmth of your laughter as it fills the air.

For now, he holds onto the hope that maybe, somehow, you’ll understand.

The sunset fades, leaving the world painted in muted purples and blues, but neither of you seem ready to break away from each other. Bucky holds you close, feeling the steady rhythm of your breath against his chest as if it’s his own. He knows he should say something—that he needs to say something—but the words seem so impossible now, tangled up in his chest. The truth would ruin this moment, shatter whatever he’s built with you. And so, he tells himself it can wait just a little longer.

As the evening slips into night, Bucky leads you back to his dorm room, his hand intertwined with yours. You can feel the heat of his palm, the way his fingers wrap around yours as if he never wants to let go. The air feels charged, every touch electric, each shared glance simmering with something that feels fragile and exhilarating. Neither of you says much, as though speaking would break the quiet spell between you.

Once you’re inside, Bucky hesitates. He turns to you, his expression vulnerable, softer than you’ve ever seen it. "You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

“I want to,” you say, the words escaping before you can even think. There’s no hesitation in your voice, only a gentle certainty that makes his chest tighten. The way you look at him, so open and trusting, makes his heart ache with a mix of guilt and longing.

Bucky’s eyes search yours, lingering for a moment that stretches into forever. He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before his fingers trail down to your jaw, cradling your face as if you’re something fragile and precious. Slowly, he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s softer than any before. It’s unhurried, tender, as if he’s savoring every second.

The kiss deepens, and you can feel yourself melting into him, your heart pounding so hard you think it might burst. His hands move to your waist, steady and grounding, and he pulls you closer until there’s no space left between you. You can feel the strength of him, the warmth radiating through his clothes, and it makes your head spin.

Before long, you find yourselves tangled together on his bed, the world outside fading into nothingness. Each kiss is deeper than the last, each touch laced with a longing neither of you can deny. There’s a gentleness to Bucky’s movements, a quiet patience as he explores the curve of your shoulder, the softness of your waist, as if he’s memorizing every inch of you. He’s slow and careful, constantly looking at you as if to make sure this is what you want.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, his voice rough with barely-contained emotion.

You nod, feeling breathless but certain. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

His eyes darken, filled with a tenderness that makes your chest ache, and then he’s kissing you again, deeper this time, his hands skimming over your skin with a reverence that leaves you feeling cherished. You lose track of time, surrendering to the way he makes you feel—safe, wanted, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

When you finally fall back against the bed, your bodies wrapped around each other, you’re exhausted yet filled with a warmth that feels all-encompassing. The reality of what just happened settles in, but instead of feeling nervous, you feel at peace, secure in the quiet intimacy that has grown between you.

Bucky shifts beside you, pulling you closer until your head rests against his chest, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. The steady thump of his heartbeat lulls you into a peaceful daze, and you feel his fingers trace small circles on your back, soothing and grounding.

You’re both quiet for a long time, the silence comfortable as you bask in each other’s presence. Eventually, though, you feel a need to tell him something you’ve been holding back, something you hadn’t planned on revealing but that feels right to share in this moment.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, lifting your head to look at him. He gazes down at you, his eyes warm and attentive, as if you’re the only thing he sees. “I…I want you to know that this was my first time.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re afraid he’ll pull away, that he’ll think you were too inexperienced or that you should have told him sooner. But he doesn’t flinch or hesitate. His hand moves up to gently cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

“Your first?” he echoes, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and something that sounds almost like reverence.

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat as you look down, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah…I wanted it to be with someone who made me feel safe. Someone I trusted.”

Bucky’s chest rises and falls slowly as he takes this in, his expression softening. He seems almost humbled, like he’s just been given something rare and delicate. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his own against yours.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze, as if he’s holding back a hundred things he wants to say but can’t find the words for.

You smile, the last traces of your nervousness melting away. “Thank you, Bucky…for making it so special.”

He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you like he’s afraid to let you go. “I’d do anything to make you feel special,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

You nestle into his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling safe and cherished in a way you never have before. And as you lie there, drifting between sleep and wakefulness, you wonder if this is what it feels like to be truly, deeply in love.

But as you fall asleep in his arms, Bucky lies awake, his heart heavy with the weight of everything he’s kept from you. He knows he should be content, that he should just let himself savor this night and the closeness you’ve shared. But the memory of that stupid, careless bet gnaws at him, a dark cloud looming over everything.

He runs a hand through his hair, staring up at the ceiling, feeling torn between the desire to protect you from the truth and the fear that he’s already crossed a line he can’t uncross. The realization that you trusted him enough to give him something so deeply personal makes the weight of his lie even heavier, almost unbearable. He swallows hard, tightening his hold on you as he resolves to tell you the truth—soon, somehow, even if it means risking everything.

But tonight, he lets himself stay silent. He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of your hair, the warmth of your body against his, and allows himself to believe, if only for a moment, that this can last.

The morning sunlight filters softly through the blinds, casting warm, golden patterns across the bed. You stir beside him, your movements gentle as you wake up, and Bucky watches you with a quiet awe, his heart racing as he takes in the peaceful expression on your face. For a moment, it feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

You blink up at him, your face lighting up with a sleepy smile that makes his chest tighten.

“Good morning,” you murmur, your voice soft and a little shy, as if the night is still too fresh, too beautiful to fully believe.

He grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Morning,” he replies, his voice low and warm. His fingers trail down to your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and you squeeze back, a shared moment of silent understanding passing between you.

The morning stretches on in a gentle haze of quiet touches and soft words. Bucky makes you coffee, insisting you stay curled up under his blanket while he brings it over to you, and you laugh, watching him with a mix of affection and disbelief. This side of him—the playful, thoughtful side—is something you never expected to see, and it makes you fall for him even harder.

You’re both lounging on his bed, your legs tangled together, talking in low voices about everything and nothing. He tells you stories about his childhood, tales about him and Steve getting into trouble, and you share your own memories, laughing as he reacts with wide eyes and exaggerated shock.

It feels so real, so natural, that you almost forget about everything outside this room, about the possibility that this could be something fleeting. You feel like you’ve found a place that’s safe, a person who makes you feel more like yourself than you ever have before.

But in the quiet moments, when you catch him staring at you with that far-off look, you wonder if there’s something he’s not telling you, a hesitation lurking behind his gaze. You don’t press, not wanting to shatter the peace between you. But part of you wonders if you’re seeing a glimpse of something deeper, something you’re not yet ready to confront.

As you leave his dorm room later that morning, he kisses you softly, lingering as if he’s trying to memorize the taste of your lips, the feel of your hand in his. There’s an unspoken promise in his touch, a silent assurance that this isn’t the end.

Later that afternoon, you make your way back to the frat house, humming softly as you climb the steps to Bucky's door. You left your notebook there, a little blue book you’re pretty sure you’ll need for your upcoming assignment. You barely slept last night, too caught up in the warmth of his touch, the memory of his whispered words that lingered long after you left his dorm this morning. You’re nervous, too; you feel so much for him that it scares you.

As you approach his room, laughter drifts out into the hallway, low voices filtering through the partially open door. You recognize Bucky’s laugh, the familiar sound stirring warmth in your chest, but the laughter feels different, carefree and loud. And then you hear a familiar voice—Sam’s—cutting through, low and joking.

"Guess she fell for it pretty hard, huh?" Sam’s voice sounds amused, lighthearted, as if he’s talking about something trivial.

You freeze, your hand hovering inches from the door. Something about his tone makes you hesitate, a strange, unsettling feeling creeping into your chest.

"Come on, Bucky," Sam presses, “don’t act all innocent now. I saw you this morning, looking like you just won the lottery.” You can hear the grin in his voice, a laugh bubbling beneath it. “So? How was it?”

Bucky laughs, the sound uncomfortable, but he doesn’t argue. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, his voice casual, light. “It was… good.”

You feel a stab in your chest, a faint panic that tells you to leave, to walk away before you hear any more. But your feet don’t move, and you find yourself listening, every word driving another splinter into your heart.

Steve’s voice joins in, chuckling. “Well, you earned it, man. She had no clue, huh?”

“No clue,” Bucky murmurs, his voice softer now, almost unreadable. You can picture him there, maybe rubbing the back of his neck the way he does when he’s nervous. But the words are there, undeniable.

Sam laughs again, louder this time. “And hey, bet’s a bet,” he says, and then there’s a pause before you hear the unmistakable rustling of bills being exchanged. “Two hundred dollars, as promised. Can’t say you didn’t earn it, though—you even managed to get her into bed. Didn’t think you had it in you, but here we are!”

Your vision blurs, the words echoing in your mind, distorting into something raw and jagged. Every affectionate touch, every gentle kiss, every whispered promise from the past few weeks twists into something ugly, something unrecognizable. You feel sick, the image of Bucky’s earnest smile, his soft words about wanting to make you feel special, tainted beyond repair. Everything you felt for him, the trust you’d handed him so freely, crumbles beneath the weight of their laughter.

Slowly, you turn and leave, gripping the strap of your bag tightly as you make your way out of the frat house. You don’t let yourself cry, not yet, not when you still feel the echo of his betrayal throbbing in your chest, too raw, too painful to acknowledge fully.

Hours later, you’re back in your dorm room, your heart aching as you sit in silence, the truth settling over you in waves. Part of you wants to believe it was a misunderstanding, that maybe there’s an explanation you’re missing. But the memory of their laughter, the casual way Sam handed him that money, makes the truth impossible to ignore.

A knock on your door interrupts your thoughts, and your heart skips a beat as you hear Bucky’s voice calling your name softly from the hallway. It’s just him now, his voice hesitant, almost as if he senses that something’s wrong. You take a steadying breath, steeling yourself before you answer the door.

When you open it, Bucky’s eyes light up, and he steps forward, a soft smile on his face as he reaches for your hand. “Hey, you,” he murmurs, his voice warm. But when he sees the look on your face, he pauses, his smile fading. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, you can’t bring yourself to speak. You can only look at him, trying to reconcile the gentle, caring person you thought you knew with the man who took a bet to seduce you. You pull your hand away from his, ignoring the confusion in his gaze as he watches you.

“Were you even going to tell me?” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended, a dull ache threading through every word. “Or were you just going to take the money and pretend it never happened?”

Bucky blinks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Tell you what? I—I don’t understand.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, and you look away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if it’ll keep you from falling apart. “Don’t play dumb, Bucky. I heard you. I was at the frat house earlier, and I heard everything.”

He freezes, his face going pale, and you see the truth in his eyes, clear as day. He opens his mouth, stumbling over his words. “Y/N, I—I didn’t… I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

The admission twists the knife deeper, and you feel yourself trembling as you look back at him, tears stinging your eyes. “So, it’s true, then? All of it? This whole… this whole thing was just for some stupid bet?”

He reaches for you, his expression desperate, his hands hovering just inches from your arms. “Y/N, please. Just let me explain. It wasn’t like that, I swear. It started that way, but then… then it became real. I fell for you, okay? Everything we did, everything we shared—it was real.”

You shake your head, pulling away from him, the anger and betrayal simmering beneath the surface. “Real? You think that makes this okay? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Your voice breaks, and a tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. “I trusted you, Bucky. I thought… I thought you cared about me.”

His face crumples, and he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out as if to wipe away the tear on your cheek. “I do care about you. More than anything, Y/N. That’s why I wanted to tell you, I just—”

“Wanted to tell me?” you interrupt, your voice shaking. “When, Bucky? After you cashed in your winnings? After I found out on my own?”

The silence stretches between you, heavy and unbearable, and Bucky’s shoulders sag as he looks away, guilt etched deeply into his face.

“Do you even realize how humiliating this is?” you continue, your voice a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “I trusted you with something… something I’d never given anyone. And the whole time, it was just part of a game to you.”

His eyes snap back to yours, filled with anguish, his voice barely a whisper. “It was never just a game, not after the first night. I swear, Y/N, I was going to tell you everything. I just… I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You didn’t want to lose me?” you repeat, laughing bitterly. “You lost me the moment you made that bet. You had no right to… to play with me like that, to make me believe that any of it was real.”

He looks at you, his blue eyes full of desperation, his voice breaking. “Y/N, please. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, but I need you to believe me when I say I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Just stop,” you whisper, the weight of it all crashing over you. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to make me feel sorry for you when you’re the one who lied.”

Bucky’s face falls, and he drops his gaze, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I know. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But please, just… give me a chance to make it right.”

Your heart aches, torn between the memories of every gentle touch, every whispered word, and the undeniable truth of his betrayal. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to believe that somewhere in all of this, there was something real. But the pain is too deep, the wound too fresh, and you don’t know if you can ever look at him the same way again.

“I can’t do this,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t just forget what you did. You hurt me, Bucky. And right now, I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

He flinches, as if your words physically hurt him, and he nods slowly, a look of resignation in his eyes. “I understand. I’ll… I’ll leave, if that’s what you want.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself as he takes a step back, his gaze lingering on you one last time before he turns and walks toward the door. Just as he reaches it, he pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob as he glances back at you, his voice soft, broken.

“For what it’s worth, Y/N… I love you. I know I don’t deserve to say that, but it’s the truth.”

You don’t reply, staring at him with tear-filled eyes as he finally steps out of your dorm, the door closing softly behind him. The silence that follows is deafening, and you sink to the floor, the weight of everything crashing down as you realize that the person you thought you loved never truly existed.

The days blur together in a haze of heartbreak and emptiness. You go through the motions, attending classes, completing assignments, and showing up to study groups, but it all feels mechanical, like you’re on autopilot. It’s as if something inside you has shut down, leaving only an echo of who you were before you met him, before he became the center of your world.

It doesn’t take long for your friends to notice the change. They ask if you’re okay, if something happened, if maybe you just need a break. But you give them the same answer each time—a nod, a small smile, and an assurance that you’re just tired. It’s easier than explaining the mess of emotions tangled inside you, the hurt that seems too big to fit into words.

Late at night, lying alone in your dorm room, you can still feel the warmth of his arms around you, the softness of his voice in the quiet hours when he’d whisper promises you thought would last forever. The memory feels cruel now, tainted by the knowledge that it was all built on a lie. And yet, despite everything, you miss him. You hate yourself for it, but you miss the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel safe, special, as if you were the only person in the world who mattered.

Bucky isn’t doing any better. In fact, he’s a mess. Days have passed, but the guilt, the emptiness—it lingers, gnawing at him, refusing to let him move on. He can barely sleep, haunted by the look in your eyes, the betrayal, the hurt he put there. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees you, hears the way your voice cracked when you told him you didn’t know who he was anymore. And the worst part is, he doesn’t blame you. He knows he did this, that he ruined everything, and now he has to live with the consequences.

Sam and Steve notice almost immediately. Bucky, the confident, charming guy they’d known for years, looks hollow, as if he’s carrying a weight he can’t shake. He barely speaks, keeps to himself, and they rarely see him at the frat house anymore. Instead, he spends most of his time shut up in his dorm, a shadow of the person he used to be.

One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, Sam and Steve exchange a glance, silently agreeing that they need to intervene. They knock on his door, and when he doesn’t answer, Sam pushes it open, finding him lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Hey, man,” Sam says, stepping inside. Steve follows, closing the door behind them as they both approach Bucky’s bed.

Bucky doesn’t react right away, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. But eventually, he sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking exhausted and defeated.

“What’s up, guys?” he mumbles, though his voice lacks any real curiosity.

“We should be asking you that,” Steve says, his tone softer than usual. “You haven’t been yourself lately. Ever since things ended with Y/N, it’s like… you’re a completely different person.”

At the sound of your name, Bucky���s face falls, and he lets out a long, shaky breath. “Yeah,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “That’s because I am.”

Sam frowns, studying Bucky’s expression, the guilt etched into every line of his face. “Look, man, we didn’t mean for things to get this serious. But if you cared about her, really cared… why didn’t you just tell her the truth from the start?”

Bucky shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the bed so tightly his knuckles turn white. “I don’t know,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I was scared, I guess. I knew I’d screwed up, and every time I tried to tell her, I just… couldn’t. I thought I could fix things, somehow, make it up to her without her ever finding out.” He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Stupid, right?”

Steve sighs, sitting beside him on the bed. “Not stupid, just… a mistake. A big one, yeah, but you’re not the first guy to mess up. You’re just… Bucky, this isn’t like you. I’ve never seen you like this over anyone before.”

Bucky looks away, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s because I’ve never felt this way before. Not like this. I love her, Steve. And I threw it all away over some stupid bet that meant nothing. I hurt her in ways I can’t even fix.”

Sam places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “So what are you gonna do about it? You can’t just sit here, wallowing. If she meant that much to you, then maybe you owe it to her—and to yourself—to try and make it right.”

Bucky laughs, but it’s empty, hollow. “And how am I supposed to do that, Sam? She told me herself she doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t trust me. I don’t deserve another chance.”

Steve exchanges a look with Sam, and then he says, “Maybe. But you can’t just give up without trying. If you really love her, Bucky, you have to prove it. Show her that you’re not just the guy who hurt her, that you’re willing to fight for her. And if she doesn’t take you back… at least you’ll know you tried.”

Bucky sighs, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares at the floor. “I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I don’t even know if I deserve it.”

Sam crosses his arms, his expression softening. “Look, man, I get that you’re hurting. But don’t you think she’s hurting, too? She’s probably out there feeling just as broken, wondering if anything between you was ever real.”

Bucky swallows hard, his chest tightening at the thought. He knows you’re hurting, knows you trusted him with something precious, something he didn’t deserve. And knowing that he’s the reason for your pain… it’s a feeling he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Over the next few days, Bucky wrestles with himself, caught between the fear of making things worse and the desire to show you that he’s truly sorry, that he wants to be the man you thought he was. He writes and rewrites texts he never sends, shows up outside your dorm but never works up the courage to knock. He’s terrified, but he can’t ignore the way his heart aches for you, the empty, gnawing feeling that only seems to grow with each passing day.

Finally, he decides to try one last time. He doesn’t know if you’ll listen, doesn’t know if you’ll even give him a chance. But he has to try—to give you the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

And so, as the evening sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over campus, Bucky finds himself standing outside your dorm, his heart pounding as he gathers the courage to knock. He knows this is his last chance, that this is the moment that will decide everything. And he only hopes, as he takes a deep breath and raises his hand to the door, that you’ll give him the chance to show you that he’s not the man who hurt you—that he’s ready to fight for you, no matter what it takes.

The knock on your door is soft, almost hesitant, but it’s enough to pull you from your thoughts. You’ve been lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to find the strength to move forward, to somehow patch yourself up after everything that happened. When you open the door, you see him standing there, his eyes filled with an uncertainty that’s almost heartbreaking. He’s gripping a small notebook in his hands—your notebook, the one you left in his room—and his gaze is fixed on you with a desperation you’ve never seen before.

“Hi,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t reply right away, the sight of him dredging up the familiar ache in your chest. Part of you wants to slam the door and hide, to keep yourself safe from any more hurt. But you don’t. Instead, you meet his gaze, forcing yourself to remain steady.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice guarded.

He shifts on his feet, glancing down at the notebook before offering it to you. “I, uh… you left this. Thought you might need it.”

You take it from him, feeling the familiar weight of it in your hands. “Thanks.”

A heavy silence hangs between you, one that neither of you seems willing to break. Bucky swallows, his face creased with an anxious, uncertain look that makes him seem vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Can we… can we talk?” he asks, his voice almost pleading. “Please. I know I don’t deserve it, but I just need to say a few things. If you don’t want to listen, I’ll understand, and I’ll leave you alone. I just… I need you to know the truth.”

You hesitate, but finally, you nod, stepping back to let him into your room. He steps inside, closing the door softly behind him, and takes a seat in the small chair by your desk while you remain standing, arms crossed protectively over your chest.

For a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze heavy with regret. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“I know you have every right to hate me,” he starts, his voice barely steady. “I know I messed up in ways I can’t even fix. And I know… I know what I did was horrible. I just—” He swallows, his throat tight. “I just need you to know that it wasn’t all a lie. When we started this… when we first got close, I didn’t expect any of this to happen. I didn’t think I’d feel the way I did.”

You look down, his words stirring a fresh wave of pain in your chest. “But it was a bet, Bucky,” you murmur, your voice trembling. “You… you did all of that just to win some money. To you, it was just a game.”

He flinches, guilt flashing in his eyes, and he nods. “I know. I won’t make excuses for it—I was stupid, and I hurt you. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about the bet. It stopped being a game. And I started… I started caring about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you force yourself to keep your voice steady. “Then why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair again, his expression tortured. “Because I was scared. I was terrified that you’d look at me the way you’re looking at me now, that I’d lose you. I know that doesn’t make it better, but it’s the truth. I tried to find the right time, tried to find the right words, but I kept putting it off, thinking maybe… maybe I could make it up to you before you ever found out.” He looks down, his voice breaking. “But that was stupid. I should’ve just been honest with you from the start.”

You take a shaky breath, feeling the full weight of everything he’s saying. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to forgive him, but the wound he left is still fresh, still raw. “I trusted you, Bucky,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I thought… I thought what we had was real.”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a desperate sincerity that takes you off guard. “It was real. For me, it was real. And I know that doesn’t change anything, but I need you to know that. I never meant to hurt you, and I’ll spend as long as it takes to make it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You study him for a long moment, searching his face, trying to find some indication of sincerity, something to show that he’s truly sorry. And when you see the remorse in his eyes, the sadness that mirrors your own, you feel something in your chest soften, just slightly.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, forcing yourself to stay strong, “I can’t just go back to how things were. I can’t pretend this didn’t happen. You hurt me more than anyone ever has, and it’s going to take time for me to get past that.”

He nods, his expression resigned, but he doesn’t look away. “I understand. And I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just… I just want the chance to prove to you that I’m more than the guy who hurt you. Even if we can’t go back, I want to be there for you, even if it’s just as a friend.”

You let his words sink in, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the ache in your heart. Part of you still longs for what you had, for the closeness you shared, but you know that you can’t rush back into it. If Bucky truly wants a second chance, he’ll have to earn it, piece by piece, day by day.

“Maybe…” You hesitate, feeling vulnerable but determined. “Maybe we can start as friends. Just… friends. No promises, no expectations. If you’re willing to do that, to rebuild things from the ground up… then maybe, someday, I’ll be able to trust you again.”

Relief floods his face, and he nods, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll take that. Anything you’re willing to give, I’ll take it. I’ll prove to you that I can be better. I’ll prove that I’m worth your trust.”

You give him a tentative smile, and for the first time in days, you feel a flicker of hope. It’s small and fragile, but it’s enough to remind you that maybe healing is possible.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky becomes a constant but careful presence in your life. He shows up when you need help with an assignment, offers a listening ear when you need to vent about a long day, and joins you for coffee on campus, keeping the conversation light and easy. He respects your boundaries, never pushing for more, never expecting anything beyond friendship. You’re surprised at how attentive he is, how willing he is to wait, to prove that he’s serious about making things right.

Slowly, the walls around your heart begin to crack. You start to feel comfortable with him again, to let your guard down, if only a little. You catch him glancing at you sometimes, a soft, almost wistful look in his eyes, as if he’s seeing something precious he thought he’d lost forever. It’s in these moments that you remember why you fell for him in the first place, why his smile used to make your heart race, why his touch felt like home.

One day, as you’re both sitting on a bench by the campus pond, he turns to you, a hesitant smile on his face. “I know we’re just friends right now, and I’m okay with that. But I want you to know that I’m grateful for every moment I get to spend with you, even if it’s just like this.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say softly. “For not giving up. For being patient with me.”

He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before resting his hand on yours, his touch warm and steady. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I’ll prove to you that I’m here for you, no matter what.”

And as you look into his eyes, you feel a flicker of something you thought was lost—a tentative, fragile hope that maybe things could be different this time. That he could truly be the person he’s trying to be, the person you wanted him to be all along. And though you know there’s a long road ahead, you’re finally willing to take that first step with him, trusting that maybe, this time, he won’t let you down.

The night is alive with music and laughter as you step into the crowded frat house. It’s your first time back here since everything happened, and you can’t deny the nervous flutter in your stomach as you take in the familiar scene. But tonight feels different—Bucky is by your side, watching you with a gentle smile as he guides you through the chaos of people, his hand warm and steady on your arm.

Over the past few weeks, things between you and Bucky have been slowly mending. He’s proven himself time and time again, showing up when it mattered, respecting your boundaries, and never pressuring you for more than you were willing to give. He’s become someone you can lean on, someone who’s earned back your trust bit by bit. And, to your own surprise, you feel something new blossoming between you—something deeper, stronger, and more genuine than before.

When you reach the main room, you spot Sam and Steve near the keg, both of them giving you a thumbs-up as soon as they see you with Bucky. You laugh, rolling your eyes, but Bucky just grins, shrugging as if to say, They’re harmless.

“Glad you came tonight,” he says, leaning closer so you can hear him over the noise. “I was worried you might skip.”

You shrug, glancing up at him. “Well, I figured it was about time I faced the frat house again.”

He chuckles, a warm, rich sound that sends a spark of something familiar through you. It’s the same feeling you used to get when you first met, when you were just getting to know him, before anything got complicated. Only now, it feels even better—because you’re finally on solid ground with him, without secrets or lies standing between you.

As the night goes on, you find yourself enjoying the party, laughing with friends, and even dancing a bit. Bucky stays close, his presence a comforting, steady anchor amidst the noise and chaos. He’s attentive, offering you drinks and glancing over every so often to make sure you’re comfortable. And every time you catch his gaze, you feel your heart race just a little faster.

At one point, as you’re talking with a friend, you feel Bucky’s hand gently touch your arm, and he leans in close, his voice soft and intimate against your ear. “Want to get some air?”

You nod, letting him lead you through the throngs of people until you step out onto the back porch. The cool night air is a welcome relief from the warmth inside, and you breathe deeply, taking in the quiet calm of the evening. Bucky leans against the railing, watching you with a soft, almost nervous smile, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” he begins, his voice low and steady, as if he’s thought about this moment a thousand times. “I know we’ve been rebuilding things, and I know you wanted to take it slow. But, Y/N… being with you these past few weeks, even just as friends, has been everything to me. And I can’t stop thinking about you. About us.”

Your heart stirs at his words, and you feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of longing that’s been building quietly since the day he asked for a second chance.

“Bucky,” you say softly, stepping a little closer. “I… I feel the same. It’s been hard, letting go of the past. But I think—no, I know—I’ve forgiven you. You’ve shown me who you really are, and… I like that person.”

His eyes brighten at your words, and he reaches out, his hand brushing your cheek as his thumb strokes gently across your skin. He leans closer, his gaze searching your face as if to make sure you’re truly ready for this.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his voice barely audible in the quiet night air.

You feel your heart skip a beat, and you give him a small, almost shy nod, your pulse racing as he leans in, closing the distance between you. The moment his lips meet yours, it’s like the world melts away, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the softness of his mouth against yours. It’s gentle at first, tentative, as if he’s afraid of breaking the spell. But as you respond, his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you a little closer, deepening the kiss with a quiet, aching intensity.

When you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath, sharing a smile that’s equal parts relief and joy.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice full of warmth, “I promise, I’m not going to mess this up again. I want this with you—for real, no games.”

You smile, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Good, because you’re stuck with me now.”

He laughs, pulling you into a tight hug, and you bury your face in his shoulder, feeling a happiness you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re finally ready to move forward with him, to start fresh, knowing that this time, it’s real.

maybe I should've made it more angsty? I love angst, request angst people! lol

[jiminie-and-his-pinky-finger]

this has got to be one of the best surprises

[maeumi-jng]

lipgloss and kisses

pairing: enhypen x gn!reader

synopsis: he watches you put it on and he loves to take it off.

warnings: fluff, skinship, suggestive-ish for hyung line except sunghoon, swearing, humour levels: bad, proof read ig

library: enhypen bookshelf

heeseung

one word. impatient.

heeseung obviously thought you looked good with lip gloss. in fact he thought you looked good in anything. lip balm, lipstick, lip oil, whatever that was... the reason behind it wasn't the product, it was you.

you just had such kissable lips. he had always thought so. even before you got together. heeseung liked you so much to the point any time you'd bring out some lip balm, all his attention would be focused on your lips. it was a bit strange, he couldn't deny that. but heeseung also couldn't help that you were just so captivating. the care you took to put it on, ensuring nothing escaped the borders and if it had, the swipe of your finger that tugged those pretty lips down... god... it was a lot.

honestly, you spent a lot of money on lip products. the reason? heeseung.

that man was always kissing you. on the bus, during your night routine, before bed, when you wake up, when you cleaned the dishes together, after being a part for a mere half hour....

and it wasn't just a peck. no. it was like heeseung was consuming you're entire essence. he would be breathing heavily, hand supporting the back of your neck to bring your closer if possible, kissing you as if he had been waiting a lifetime to do so. small gasps would fall from your lips while he nibbled down slightly, tugging and pulling at what was purely swollen by this point.

you lost more product than you put on. take now for instance because this is how it played out every single time. especially in the case of your stupid lipgloss.

you were getting ready for the day, adding your final touches. heeseung, who was only half dressed, still sporting his sweatpants from the night, had his arms slung around your neck, chin nestling into your collarbone, being his usual clingy morning self as you began to apply your lipgloss.

heeseung, finally registering you were putting on the lip gloss, whispered in your ear. "come on, a little faster, baby."

"hee," you whined, cheeks beginning to burn already. this was it. you could barely get through putting anything on your lips without him urging you to hurry up so he could kiss you. "stop! i always have to reapply because of you. i'm not going to kiss you."

heeseung just smiled softly, leaving gentle kisses on your neck. you sucked in a sharp breath, trying to regain your focus. "why do you make this so difficult?" you mumbled, carefully applying the gloss to your bottom lip.

you could hear a huff of amusement slip out of heeseung's mouth. "you are one to talk... you know how i feel about your lips. yet you torture me every single day."

you suppressed your eye roll at your boyfriend's theatrics. "not my fault you're down so bad."

heeseung poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, now watching you finish up without a word to say.

you had barely put the wand down let alone in the tube when heeseung's hand gently travelled to your chin, turning your head slightly so he could duck down and bring his lips to yours.

your half-groan and half-squeal turned muffled. your grip around the applicator tightened as you fell victim to the very thing you had been trying to stop. not that you were trying hard or anything. the gasp you released when he nibbled down allowed him to make a mess of you, slipping his tongue in to mix with your own and dance with the rhythm of your heavy pants.

heeseung finally parted, chest rising up and down with heavy breaths. his finger tugged down your bottom lip, only little remnants of your lip gloss dotting it. he sighed with a small smile. "you were right. i am down bad."

jongseong

the first time jay saw you apply lipgloss in a mirror, he was hooked. he only had to see you do it once and the following day, he brought several lipglosses for you.

it was like a side quest for him. every time he gifted you anything, a lip gloss would be on the side. or when you were literally out for groceries, you'd find him in the cosmetics aisle and he'd turn to with a lipgloss on hand. grabbing your hand, he'd pull you closer to him and start to compare the lipgloss in the packaging to your lips. "hmm... i don't know... maybe the red one would be better."

as much as you loved it, you were beginning to complain once your draw began to fill up with several tubes of gloss, covering any other item you had in sight. what were you supposed to do with this much lipgloss? furthermore, they actually had a shelf life.... they expired.

when you brought this up to jay, he gave you the most careless shrug. "i'll just get new ones. besides, all you have to do is put them on. i'll just take it off."

oh?

oh.

jay would also be so fucking sulky if his favourite colour was changed or discontinued. it wouldn't be obvious at first but after finding out, he'd let out little sighs every time you applied a different colour and he'd keep on looking at the expiry date, wishing time would stop.

you did manage to find a dupe, however. and the moment jay saw it, he was over the moon. like thank god and the stars in heaven.

immediately he'd ask you to put it on. and who are you to deny your boyfriend's sweet request? so you opened it and applied the colour, conscious of jay's trailing eyes. the moment the wand went back into the tube, jay grabbed your face, examining your lips with the distance of a hairbreadth.

you felt warm in his grasp, feeling his thumb hover over your lips as if he were tracing them. a satisfied smile washed onto his face, the scrunch of his furrowed brows disappearing. he nodded. "beautiful."

your cheeks tinged with a heated flush. you couldn't help but just give him a long kiss on his lips, parting to find your colour imprinted on him. you grinned, imitating his own tone. "beautiful."

jay rolled his eyes, hand travelling to encircle your waist. your mouth dried at the sudden proximity and the intensity swirling in his brown eyes. "let me show you just how beautiful you are."

STAWPPP 😳🤭

jaeyun

babe. listen. jake will stop everything he's doing if it means getting to watch you put some lipgloss on. sure, there's lip balm. but lip balm is not as pretty as lipgloss is on you.

pretty sure he has a spidey sense for it as well. like at any given time, if he thinks you're about to put on some lipgloss, he'll run right towards you.

you'll be in your room and you got a package the other day. it was some new lipglosses that you wanted to try. jake is in the living room, headphones on full blast, but yet somehow he can hear you open the package he brought from your mailbox.

you've just picked a lipgloss to try on and jake is already dragging the ottoman in the corner of your room to your mirror. "jake? i– where did you come from?"

"i heard you open your package, so," jake shrugged.

you blinked blankly. your hand stretched out to lift the headphones hung around his neck with a finger. "you heard me? with these on? jake, they're noise cancelling."

"i should sue for false advertisement," jake nodded to himself before redirecting his attention to you. his wide eyes flickering back and forth between you and the lip gloss in your hands.

you sighed, shaking your head. you knew exactly what he wanted. he wasn't slick with it. you had caught him several times, purposely placing your lip glosses randomly everywhere. on your bed, on the kitchen counter, next to your phone, next to the sink... the list was endless.

jake intently watched you open the lipgloss, head leaning in naturally. the push of your hand towards him surprised him but he realised quickly that you were fulfilling the question lingering inside his head: the smell of the lipgloss. taking a quick whiff, he noted the feigned berry scent, reminiscent of the warm plum colour it had.

you pushed down your smile at the cute little nod jake did once he was satisfied. taking the wand back, you leaned into your mirror, eyes narrowing and lips pursing.

out of your peripheral, you could see jake do the same, except his teeth were sinking into his bottom lip, far too focused on what you were doing.

his eyes trailed the tip of the applicator. the warm plum colour smeared softly against your pillowy lips, mostly sheer. it had small speckles of glitter from what jake could tell. as you rubbed your lips together, finally bringing in the entire coat, jake could tell he loved this gloss.

it looked amazing on you. or well, you made it look good.

you turned to him, wiggling your eyebrows. "what do you think?" you queried, jutting out your lips for him to see.

jake was at a lost for words. all he could do is grab your face with his hands and place his lips onto yours. your eyes widened at the sudden kiss before closing once you began to melt away at the pure fervour jake had within him. he was consuming you, attempting to get closer to you if he could and seizing any air around you.

you pulled yourself away, taking a big inhale of air. shit...

your eyes fell to the plum colour smudged across jake's lips. you were sure yours looked the same. you could've sworn your heart skipped a beat when a loose grin played on his face. "i love it."

sunghoon

to be honest, sunghoon had never thought about this. like ever. he had never seen it, never mind with someone he really liked, so it didn't really register for him. jake, the most clingy person he knows, talked about it all the time. he was already down bad but whatever this thing was with lipgloss, it had jake go feral. and sunghoon just didn't get it.

like bro, it's just lipgloss? like chill.

sunghoon understood the mundane things. like watching you tuck your hair behind your ears, the way you would chew down on your lip when you were concentrating on something, or the scrunch of your nose when you would squint. he would never admit it to you, or anyone for that matter, but he loved that shit.

this lipgloss thing? eh...

but then he saw it.

sunghoon never really pegged you for a lipgloss person. you were always complaining about your hair getting stuck in your lip balm, which resulted in your tucking your hair behind your ears (a win for him). so he just figured lipgloss wasn't in your kit.

but you two were getting ready for a lunch date and sunghoon saw you whip out the warm pink gloss while he put on his shoes. he forgot all about doing the laces... eyes honing on your lips through the mirror.

now that he had seen it, he couldn't stop looking. he understood it.

it was so intriguing.

the way you had to purse your lips and apply such a pretty colour. the way the light bounced off the shine, glittering occasionally. the care you took... the rubbing of your lips to smear the colour evenly... the little satisfactory nod and smile you sported when you saw yourself fully in the mirror...

fuck, he got it.

after finally finishing his shoes, sunghoon walked up to you, watching you turn around with a wide smile. you wiggled your eyebrows. "how do i look?" you asked, giving a small spin.

sunghoon smiled quietly, mind full of only your lips. he dipped his head down to your cheek, leaving a lingering kiss on the soft surface before pulling back. "pretty."

you smiled at his compliment, your own eyes looking him up and down, hand rubbing his chest gently. you stood on your toes, pressing a quick peck on his cheek as well. "you look pretty too."

your eyes widened at the shiny pink stain on his cheek. "aw shit," you cursed.

sunghoon raised a brow, looking at himself in the mirror. his body paused on the silhouette of your kiss on his skin. he could've sworn his heart was thundering in his chest while a wave of warm washed over him.

you grabbed a fresh wet wipe from your vanity, hand stretching out to wipe off the mark but sunghoon's hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you.

sunghoon gave a small smile at the confused expression swirling in your eyes. "leave it."

your eyes go big at his words. "b-b-but it's gonna be on your skin? it's so pink and so... obvious..." you told him, voice slowly turning into a whisper as his smile got bigger.

"it's okay," sunghoon murmured, grabbing this wipe out of your hand and resting it on the vanity before intertwining his fingers with yours. "i like it like that."

soft for this type of sunghoon 🥹🤭

seonwoo

listen, seonwoo is the motherfucker that would apply it for you.

don't get him wrong. he loves watching you put lipgloss on. he admired the way you got so into it, blocking out the rest of the world for a good three minutes to make sure you had applied it well. besides, you looked so pretty.

but one day, you broke out of your trance and caught seonwoo looking invested in it. the surprise he had when you offered him the wand and a lipliner was like no other. you thought he wanted to put it on which was fine with you. especially considering you were secretly the one who loved seonwoo's lips the most. so soft... so pillowy and plump, perfect for any lip product.

but much to your surprise, seonwoo shook his head no and asked is he could put it on you. the offer was so sweet, you immediately wiped off any product on your lip, not caring that it was technically a waste, and sat ready for him to apply it.

and now... it was like a daily ritual.

every morning, as the both of you got ready, you would both decide on a combo you would wear for the day. and you would sit in front of the window, on the floor, sun beaming down on you.

it normally took three minutes at most to line your lips and then fill it with lipgloss. but with seonwoo, it took a lot longer. the both of you got distracted to easily.

he'd be lining your lips, unaware of all the sweet whispers falling from his mouth. "you're so pretty, baby," "i didn't know it was possible for lips to be this cute." and adding the final touches of your gloss, he'd say, "i just want to kiss you so bad... every day."

and this was your breaking point.

screw the lipgloss.

you would always end the entire moment by grabbing his face to kiss him. you could feel the sticky gloss move onto him, his soft pillowy lips absorbing all the colour and sparkles.

seonwoo would also get into it, pushing himself closer into your touch, making the kiss deeper as his craving for you expanded. his hands, free of the liner and gloss, would crawl up your neck, getting tangled in your hair. his eye would be completely shut, letting himself melt into you entirely.

the whole gloss thing always left seonwoo on fire. like he just couldn't wait to kiss you again and again.

you would leave the kiss by placing kisses across his jaw and kisses. practically adorning his skin in your marks while your hands fisted the end of his shirt.

you'd both spent the next ten minutes trying to wipe off the marks with wet wipes, talking and laughing about how maybe the lipgloss should be left to you, only for seonwoo to get sulky about it, refusing the proposition entirely. he was going to put your lipgloss on. even if it only resulted in it coming off.

you didn't mind though. seonwoo knew that deep down you'd wake up the next day and do it all over again just to kiss him again. because that's exactly what he wants.

jungwon

jungwon is another one who doesn't really get it. he's just so caring and romantic that he revels in the simplicity of romance.

he likes that you're the first text he sees everyday, even when you're right next to him. or when you walk around in his clothes... hoodies, matching bracelets, and keychains. when he checked on you to make sure you had eaten and to see how you're day had been going. his favourite, however, was your random urge to poke his dimples. it always made him break out into a shy smile which you teased him for.

these simple things... they kept him going.

but then came the lipgloss his sister had gifted you for your birthday. you were a big fan of tinted lip balms, he knew that. he always pretended to gape at your drawer full of them because he knew you'd end up hitting him in the arm, annoyed by his teasing.

this lipgloss, however, was truly one of a kind. it was packed with some of the prettiest glitter jungwon had ever seen. to be honest, jungwon should've thanked his sister when he saw you first apply it the next day.

you were out having a picnic. everything was just right. the sun, the comforting breeze, and the warmth of your head resting on jungwon's lap, while music softly played from your phone.

as you were resting on jungwon's lap, eyes closed and absorbing the peaceful atmosphere, you suddenly remembered you had brought along his sister's present. jungwon, who was spending most of this tranquility staring at you and combing his hand through your hair, had a mini heart attack when you suddenly opened your eyes and were lunging towards your bag.

his sharps brows furrowed at your rummaging. "what are you looking for, baby?"

your tongue hung out of the corner of your mouth. "uh," you failed to respond, trying to find the tube that you apparently had misplaced so easily in your bag. "ah! got it!" you cheered, feeling the smooth tube enter your hand.

jungwon watched as you grabbed your phone as well and went back to laying on his lap. you slid your phone to the camera, turning it so it faced you. placing the butt of the lipgloss tube in your mouth, you expertly twisted out the applicator and moved the tube between your fingers to apply the product.

the whole scene was some sort of alluring contraption to jungwon. the dexterity of your fingers surprised him but nothing surprised him more than his sudden fixation on your lips. the way you applied the warmish red in thin sheer coats across your soft lips, letting the sun capture every single speckle of glitter in it.

you were radiating.

you checked yourself in your phone before putting it down. you looked up at jungwon's staring eyes and pursed your lips. "thoughts?"

jungwon remained silent for a second, internally contemplating. but, nevertheless, a sigh slipped out of his mouth before he pressed his lips to yours. the peck was momentary before he pulled back. "i think it's pretty."

a flush of heat travelled down your cheeks. "jungwon," you whined, jutting out your lip, only increasing his urge to kiss you again. "you took like half of it off."

jungwon grinned, dimples popping out, making you instinctively poke them with your finger. his lipgloss coated lips pressed a brief kiss on the side of your finger. "i also think i'm going to have to buy you some more lipglosses."

riki

an interesting sort of impatience.

from the moment you started wearing lipglosses or he watched you put on your lip balm, riki was fixated on the act. he always pretended like he didn't care because for him it was slightly embarrassing. to be affected by something so simple, that is.

he never tries to enforce you like some people might by putting lipglosses everywhere or buying you them specifically. riki liked when it happened naturally and every so often.

on the occasion, maybe you were getting ready or you were testing out a new colour, he'd watch you out of the corner of his eye. patiently waiting for you to apply. why? it was simple because he wanted to come off.

he couldn't really grasp it. there was just this sort of annoyance that you had when riki smudged the gloss so it escaped the confines of your lips... and riki adored your reaction to it.

you'd always get slightly heated. whining and purposely trying to move away from him so you could apply it in peace. only for him to follow you out, resulting in you being chased around the house.

that was what he was impatient for. that very specific intimacy between you two. as mentioned, he enjoyed the natural occurrence of it. he could never make it happen. it just happened. and when it did, it would set the mood for the rest of the day.

like today.

you were already cautious the moment you saw riki walk into the bathroom in your peripheral. riki would raise his arms in defence. "i'm just looking for my cologne," he'd say, "i put it somewhere here because jake was hounding me for some.

you narrowed your eyes, silently turning back to the mirror and returning to your application. riki was next to you, pretending to rummage through the bathroom drawers. you can't miss the way he slowly rises up from drawers, his eyes fixated on your lips through the mirror.

by the last swipe of your lipgloss, you can already feel and see riki leaning in to mess it up. "nope!" you said, immediately retracting yourself from the bathroom counter, rushing to walk out of the room.

riki was hot on your tail. "oh come on... i'm not doing anything. i just want to spend time with you. is that so bad?" he asked, amusement underlying his voice.

you turned to him, now walking backwards out into the living room. "yes. it is bad when you have that look in your eyes."

riki stepped towards you, eyebrows pulled together in a feigned confusion. "what look?"

"that one. like you're going to eat me or something," you pointed accusingly.

riki rested his hands on his hips, standing in front of you with a slight tilt to his head. he clicked his tongue. he spoke with a nonchalant tone. "because i am."

the moment you see him take a step forward, you're off. you fell into a maze, running around your furniture which riki just inches behind you. you made it to your bedroom, in fits of laughter by this point and about to shut the door on his face.

but you're just a bit too slow.

riki's hand stretched out, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you back into him. you squirmed in his grip while he shifted the both of you to the bed with a soft thud.

"riki," you complained despite the wide smile etching on your face. your head fell to his chest, hair falling around your ears to cover your flushed skin.

a hum fell from his lips as riki's eyes flickered over your face, hand reaching out to push your hair behind your ears after he tilted your face back up. the action seized all the air around you. at least that's what you thought by the feel of your mouth drying.

"i got you," riki quietly teased, grinning at you.

you snapped out of your trance and rolled your eyes. you hit his chest playfully, a soft laugh following after. "let me go."

riki blinked at you, head leaning in towards you. you could feel his hot breath glide past your face. one would think your heart is in your ears by the sound of how loud it is. lips a mere millimetre away from yours, he whispered, "never."

© maeumi-jng | do not copy, post (repost is fine!) or translate anywhere else! thank you ♡︎ requests here!

[sevsdollette]

thinking about ellie when she’s angry. i think I cooked on this one.

contains: mentions of injuries. a little bit of arguing. smut (giving ellie head, fingering (r-recieving), heavy making out, choking, tribbing)

MDNI and men get away!!

it’s been a rough day around jackson. there was a swarm of infected running around in the woods—attacked some people you and ellie knew. they all came back okay, but situations were high-strung. you and ellie had been out the whole day searching, killing, and surviving.

your scout groups were separated. you spent the whole day wondering where your girlfriend was and what was going on with this strange zombie hoard. but, still, you had to stay focused on your own tasks. 

at the end of the day, when the sun was setting over the thick forest, you came back to jackson with your mind set on finding ellie.

her group had returned an hour before and all of them looked a little beat up. 

you walked through the stables, seeing them by the aid station. one of them had a large bandage casted around his leg and was walking on crutches. another was holding a bloody tissue to his face. a couple more had stray bandages wrapped around their limbs. 

you didn’t see ellie at first and your blood froze. your mind told you the worst. ellie was always one to act like a hero. you hated it, but it was who she was.

then she came out from around the corner. from the looks of it, she was fine. but you could tell there was peril behind her eyes. she had this wild, panicked look of a woman still high on adrenaline.

her hair was pulled back and off her neck. her flannel was stained and the sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. one of her leather boots was caked in mud and the other had a tear in the toe, revealing its steel. she had a hard grimmace, eyes scanning over every person from her squad that was sat against the wall.

you rushed over, dropping your pack and wrapping your arms around her neck. 

she stumbled back before embracing you quickly. “hey, babe, you alright?” she asked

“yeah, are you?” you let go and stood back. maybe you had missed where the injury was.

she purses her loops, looking down the hall of the stable in thought. maybe she hadn’t heard you. her brow was furrowed and her jaw clenched tight.

“ellie?”

she blinked rapidly and shook her head. “what, baby?”

your face tensed. “are you okay,” you repeated.

“yeah, yeah.” she brushed you off, stepping back. “i didn’t get hurt. i’m fine.”

“ellie—“

“why don’t you,” she began, taking your wrist as you tried to touch her face. “go home. i’ll see you there in a little bit. i just have to handle taking care of my crew.”

“well, i could help you—“

“go home,” she pleaded. “just go home.”

you shifted back, biting the inside of your cheek. she hadn’t even been looking at you. her ever frantic mind was too occupied to give you the time.

fine, you thought, picking your pack back up and walking out of the stables. 

you went home. where else was these to go? you slammed through the door, tossing your pack wherever it wanted to land, and stormed upstairs.

part of you wanted your anger to be directed at ellie, but really you were just frustrated. you were mad at the situation. why did today have to be so shitty? your scout mission hadn’t even been too stressful. you shot down one stalker and everything was quiet. 

but ellie must’ve been through the ringer. she hadn’t even told you what happened but you could assume bad enough. it wasn’t normal for her to treat you like that.

you took a deep breath as you undressed and got into some clean clothes. the house was too quiet when she wasn’t home. such a secluded town made an eerily silent world when one was alone. it almost made you feel like you were back out in those woods

you went back downstairs and sat in the living room. you wanted something to occupy yourself. maybe read a book or listen to a record, but you couldn’t get your feet to work to bring you to the bookshelf or record player.

just as you were about to retreat to bed, ellie came clamoring through the door. 

her pack was slung over her shoulder, she had her rifle tucked in the crook of her elbow, and her shoe was untied. her eyes stuck to the floor as she tried to walk without tripping.

“hey,” you hurried, walking over to take the pack off her back. she muttered a thank you and went to the counter to put her gun down. you stood in silence as she kicked off her boots and ran a hand through her messy hair.

she bit her lip, peeling away the dry skin. her hands were perched on her hips and she stared at the floor. it took you a second to see that her bottom lip was quivering and her eyes were glassed over.

you pulled her into an embrace and this time she returned it. she took a large breath, hiding her face into your shoulder as her hands on your back pressed you close. a moment later, you could feel her tears staining your skin. she was silent but shaking.

you smoothed your fingers through her hair and took it out of its tie. “what happened?”

she shook her head, hiding her face further. muffled against your collar, you heard her say, “i thought i was gonna lose them all.”

you shushed her as the tears broke her more. “come upstairs,” you wished. “clean yourself up and rest.”

after a minute, she let you go and you led her up. she showered as you tidied the bed and turned off some of the lights. after a while, you realized she was probably just standing in the shower, staring at the tile wall. 

a lot of her hours were spent blankly staring and thinking. for such a young woman she had too much in her mind. everyone did, living in this world. you surely had your share of bad days. but everything seemed to hit ellie harder.

there was no clock in your bedroom, but you assumed she was in there for half an hour. when she came out, she quickly dressed in a hoodie and sweats but didn’t get into bed.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, sitting up.

she shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “i just can’t sleep right now.”

“well, why don’t you lay down and try? you’ve had a long day, i’ll help you relax.”

she continued to shake her head. “no.”

“ellie, i just think you should get some rest. why don’t you tell me what happened—“

“i don’t—“ she snapped. her face soured into anger and she clenched her jaw. “i don’t want to go to sleep or talk about it.”

she didn't take her time leaving. the bedroom door was shut behind her before you could think of something else to say. you could hear her stomping down the stairs. a moment later, she was creeking the floorboards of the back porch.

she was smoking again. you told her a thousand times to stop with the cigarettes. it was a nasty habit that would kill her faster than a bloater. she always turned to it when she was stressed and it was difficult to pry it out of her fingers.

you got out of bed and went downstairs. you had no plan in your head to deal with the situation, but something told you to act on instinct.

she was in fact sitting on the back deck, nursing a hand-rolled cigarette. in the dark backyard you could see the burning embers more than her distressed face. when you opened up the screen door she winced and looked away from you, blowing smoke out into the night air.

“i don’t need you yelling at me right now,” she bit, putting the cigarette back between her chapped lips and taking a long drag. “just go to bed.”

“i’m not here to yell at you.” you walked over slowly and stood beside her. you shifted, leaned down to grab her chin and tilt her head up to look at you.

her wide, pouting eyes were pitiful. she stared up at you like she had nothing else in the world. perhaps a part of her was trying to be upset at you, but more of her needed you.

you sighed and whispered her name, leaning in to kiss her. 

she was needy. with your lips, you nearly pulled her up out of her seat so she could stay close to you. her hands were grasping at your jaw, dragging you back down to her.

you held yourself propped up on the arms of the chair, hanging over her as her desperate kisses broke you. she was practically whining and begging to have more of you. her hands slid over your shoulders and under the collar of your t-shirt.

you led your kisses lower, sliding your teeth over her neck to make her stutter. she gripped your shoulders to steady herself as you sucked a dark mark on the curve of her neck. she sighed and leaned her head back to give all of herself to you.

“you need to relax," you cooed, whispering in her ear. “you’ve had a bad day, baby, i know. just let me help you, okay?”

she pursed her lips and nodded quickly, meeting your eyes. her pupils were blown and she watched in awe as you got on your knees in front of her. you slid your hands up her thighs to tease the edge of her waistband. her cigarette was long forgotten as she stared down at you with wide eyes and parted lips.

you kissed her clothed thigh and smiled. 

she was breathless, staring down at you with her mouth agape. with a nervous, light laugh she looked around the backyard and stuttered. “shit, babe. people—someone could see or hear—“

“then don’t let them.” you snapped. pulling at the tie of her sweatpants. that seemed to shut her up enough. 

your backyard was fenced in and had a border of thick trees. someone could only see the two of you if they were trying to. but surely they could hear ellie if they stepped outside. she had a cute habit of not being able to control herself.

you pulled both her pants and boxers down at the same time. just enough so you could spread her legs and dip your head down into her cunt. she eagerly helped you, fighting the elastic to make sure you had enough access.

this was no night to make her wait. 

you kissed up her slit, letting her get just an idea of how it felt, before sliding your tongue through her folds.

she moaned and let her head fall back. you smiled against her, exhaling to tease. your tongue flicked against her pearl, having her nearly slip off the chair, and you kept going.

you rolled your lips over her sensitive bud, sucking it into your mouth and then kissing her. you were slow and loving, giving attention to every inch of her. your hands massaged circles into her upper thighs, urging them to spread as much as they could. she would've been a fool not to listen.

she had her hand gripping the top of your head and moving it how she wanted. part of her force was trying to push you further down to hide you, but more of it was getting leverage to rock her hips and fuck your face. 

she was stuttering in her act to play it cool. her elbow rested on the arm rest, hands clasped over her mouth as she forced her eyes to keep from rolling back. a heavy blush had spread across her face and her legs were shaking. they squeezed around your head as you sucked her clit into your mouth. 

with the extravagance of her reactions, you knew she needed this. every tense bone and muscle in her body was relaxing. you reached up under her sweatshirt with one hand to massage her tit. you rolled your finger over her nipple, feeling it pebble as you rolled it between your fingers.

she bit her lip and whined, rocking her hips faster as her hand fell from her mouth to grip the chair. she still held your head close and steady, flinching and moaning every time you took her clit in between your lips.

"fuck, baby, don't stop," she cried. she lost her breath. "please, don't stop."

her whiny voice sent pleasure down to your core. you were growing wet in your own underwear, pressing your thighs together as you kept your steady but rougher pace.

your eyes flicked up to look at her blushing, freckled face. she looked down and met your eyes, and that was it for her. she cried out, tugging at your hair and pressing her cunt against your face to ride out her orgasm.

you guided her through her high, smoothing your hands over her hips and thighs to ease her down from her bliss.

her lips and face were rosy. she took a deep breath, sighing contently as you bit her inner thigh and licked over the mark.

you rested your head on her leg as she ran her fingers through your hair. she was staring out at the trees, still recovering while you smiled to yourself and drew small shapes on her skin.

"ellie," you whispered, giggling. "you okay?"

she nodded and brushed the hair off your forehead. she looked down at you. "let's go upstairs."

you jumped up and grabbed her hand to pull her with you. she was already on you, chasing you to the back door. she caught you just before and pushed you against the wall.

her lips were on yours before you could think. she roughly grabbed your hips, slamming them back before pushing hers into you. you moaned against her lips, dizzy and weak.

her hand fumbled beside you, opening the back door. when it swung open, she rushed to push you in. she had to get you inside. it was consuming her. her vision tunneled on your body as she followed you through the living room and up the stairs. you were stumbling over each other and you got into the bedroom.

she swung the door shut behind her and grabbed you again. everything was happening so fast you could hardly remember where you were standing when she kissed you. she was frantic and rough, grabbing your ass to pull you against her and squeezing to get a moan out of you.

it was a blur of her desperation. one second you had your shirt on, the next, you didn't. your bra, pants, and panties were quick to be tossed aside. she was stripping too and soon she was throwing you into bed and crawling on top.

she was panting, staring down at your face laid perfectly on the pillows. you were dazed, looking up at her with waiting eyes. naked together, you always lost all sense and could only focus on her.

her body folded against yours as you made out. her tongue was tasting every part of your mouth as your breasts pressed to hers. she slid her thigh between your legs and moaned into your lips when she felt how wet you were.

she hummed. "ready for me already?"

you moaned in response, cradling her jaw to draw her back to kissing you. she tasted like heaven. she was getting sloppier, kissing you like she'd never have another chance. her teeth slid over you bottom lip and bit down enough for you to flinch.

you dragged your hands down her chest while she led hers lower. she was rocking your hips against her thigh, getting all of your slick across her skin as she just barely stimulated you. she wanted to tease you. watching you whine and beg was what got her off.

she kissed your neck as she humped her leg against you. with every drag of her hips you get closer and closer to screaming at her to touch you. that was what she wanted.

"ellie..." you sighed. she bit on the sensitive spot of your neck and you lost all your words. for now, that seemed to be enough for her to do what you wanted.

she moved her leg and dipped her fingers between your folds. your slick was enough for her digits to slide inside of you with ease. you moaned and pressed your head into the pillows. ellie stared down at you, watching every reaction as her fingers curled into your cunt.

you wrapped your legs around her and she leaned back down to kiss you. it was useless as every other kiss was interrupted with your whines. she nipped at your lips and went back to your neck as she fucked her fingers into you. she was hitting that sweet, spongy spot every time. she had your legs shaking and nearly falling off of her.

she bit at you ear lobe. "you're gonna take everything I give you, yeah?"

you moaned and nodded. her voice could've been enough to make you cum.

"good."

her other hand moved up and wrapped around your neck. she pressed and held you down into the mattress. she used the leverage to put pressure on your neck and lean back, fingering you rougher now.

you gasped and struggled for breath. it was embarrassing how another wave of pleasure surged to your core as you struggled to breathe.

"today was really fucking shitty, baby, but you're making it all so much better." she tightened her grip and you dizzied. your fingers felt fuzzy and your eyes prickled with tears. "I really, really love watching you like this. you're so pretty when you're gasping, princess."

she was taking her anger out on you. everything she wanted to do to those infected she was doing to you. hell, she could've killed you now if she wanted to. she had you at her mercy, your cunt squeezing around her fingers and your hands gripping her wrist.

any attempt at speaking was lost in your lungs. her fingers curved and fucked you at just the right spot to get you close to your orgasm. she could tell just by the squeezing of you legs around her hips.

she brought her thumb up to rub circles over your clit. "come on. cum for me, sweetheart."

you choked out a moan, eyes rolling back as your orgasm washed over you in waves of pleasure. she kept her fingers hitting that same perfect spot as you saw stars and clawing at her arm. it all lasted enough to make your vision spotty and your cunt clench around her digits.

she released you gently and rubbed the sore skin where she had held you. you took that long breath you had been needing and blinked the tears out of your eyes. she hummed and kissed you cheek, rubbing your thigh. "you alright, baby?"

you took another long breath and nodded. she smirked and kissed the corner of your mouth, adjusting your legs.

before you'd fully recovered, she was hooking one of your legs around her and moving one of hers over your other. she dipped close and rested her core just above yours.

she slid her folds over yours, finding the right spot to have her clit rubbing against yours. you cried from the overstimulation, gripping her shoulders and digging your nails into her back.

she stared down at the joining of your bodies, rolling her hips over and over again to feel your bud hit hers.

she had one hand holding your thigh and the other arm propped on her elbow beside your head. her face was hot and blushed, lips parted as she moaned softly and breathed heavily.

your eyes pinched shut as the pleasure turned from too much to just what you needed.

she was focusing on her needs. she was using you as a fuck toy to get herself off. that should not have made you as wet as it did. but you pushed your hips up to meet hers, matching her rhythm. you had her biting her lip and sinking her head to your collar.

both of you were overstimulated and close. her legs were shaking, trying to hold her up as she drew herself closer to orgasm. she upped her pace, harshly fucking her cunt against yours. you could hear her whispering vague words but they were lost in your skin. she was unreachable, chasing her high as she led you to yours as well.

"cum with me, baby," she muttered, "please, I need it." her words cut off into a moan as you led your hand down to squeeze her ass. with your hand encouraging her hips, she screamed and came. in her frantic search for pleasure, she brought you to finish and you came with her.

you both were a heaving, blissful mess of easing down from your climaxes. ellie collapsed on top of you, resting her head on your shoulder and rubbing your waist.

your hands found her hair and you ran your fingers through it. your chest heaved and fell with every recovering breath. you stared at the ceiling, unsure of how the night turned around so quickly.

what was once a lust-filled room was now one of comfort and silence. you lay together for eternity, you stroking her hair and her leaving light kisses on your collarbone.

eventually, she climbed off of you to clean up, coming back to wipe you off. when she was done, she got back into bed with you and you held her. her body curved into yours and you could tell she had shut her eyes.

"i love you," you muttered, kissing the back of her neck.

she sighed. "i love you too. and I'm sorry."

you shushed her. "everything's okay, baby. just go to sleep now."

she nodded, burying her face into her pillow.

note: sorry for not posting, i was on vacation and we had no wifi :( anyway, i love love love ellie. and to my friend who was on vacation with me and watched me write this, you slay hope you liked it. i also hope your phone is fixed.

tag list:

@archangeldyke-all, @cacston, @sevsarm, @sevsbaby @maneskinwh0re

@orangepeelz1324

[velaryqns]

Could you do a House fanfic where after failing at treating a patient, House takes his stress and anger out on the reader? She then considers quitting being a doctor. House is confronted by Dr. Cuddy and his team, causing him to go comfort and apologize to the girl.

Uncontrolled Anger

Gregory House x Female Reader (I took it romantically for fun)

Universe: House MD

Summary: Maybe you should have known better than to question House about his feelings.

Warnings: Patient death, mentions of addictions, angst

You sat silently, your eyes on the dead body in front of you. You had watched as the team fought to help the man, all for it to fail after multiple misdiagnoses and wrong solutions. You, being a doctor, knew what they were going through. You’d gone through it a few times with your patients.

Sighing, you rest a hand on Taub’s shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile. He returned it, then watched you go as you made your way out of the room and eventually wandered to House’s office. When you reached the glass door with his name on it, you stood silently for a moment with your arms crossed. He had one hand in a fist by the side of his head and the other filling out paperwork.

You brought your hand down to the handle, allowing yourself into his office. You took a few paces, then turned your attention to the big yellow chair by his bookshelf. You lowered yourself into the chair, watching him silently for a moment.

“How are you?” You asked gently, not wanting to annoy him while he was in the middle of scribbling on the sheet.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say,” he muttered, still keeping his gaze away from you.

“You could at least say that you’re okay,” you said to him, tilting your head slightly as you shook it. You knew he handled emotions horribly, in ways that often required you to intervene, “Greg—“

He slammed the pen down and looked at you. And you could see why he had been avoiding your gaze to begin with, “You’re not a therapist. In fact, you’re presently the reason I could end up needing one. I just want some peace and quiet because excuse me for not being Doctor Y/N Y/L/N.”

“What —“ You cut yourself off, truly hurt by his words. His blue eyes held no remorse for what he said, and you quickly stood and left the room. You bumped into Chase, but ignored him entirely as you made your way down the hall with the intention of going to the elevator.

As you stood silently in the elevator, waiting to go down to the main floor to leave for the evening, you processed why you continued to try and support the man that. You stared at the metal doors, jaw clenched as you finalized your decision.

You didn’t want to work in the same building as someone like Greg House. Cuddy wouldn’t fire him, he’s too good.

Once you reached the main floor, you went to the clinic, seeing if there was any help you could offer and breathing a sigh of relief when you were able to step in. You dove into working throughout the clinic, waiting patiently to be able to talk to Cuddy about what was going on.

You filed patients in and out of the room you were using, only stopping for nurses to clean and sterilize everything between each patient. However, your consistent flow was ruined by Foreman's sudden intrusion into the room. You stared at him.

"Do you need something? Because I would like to treat my patients," you informed him.

"Just checking on you," he shrugged, tucking his hands in his pants pocket and leaning against the door, further preventing you from leaving the room, let alone treating your patients.

"I am fine," you muttered, tossing a file on the counter and crossing your arms. You leaned against the counter, "I am tired of him behaving like a child; I never thought I'd consider leaving my position because Cuddy refuses to fire House."

"I can talk to her for you,"

"Not worth it," you shook your head, "Now can you please go?"

Foreman was reluctant for a moment, but then nodded his head and walked out of the room. Your next patient came in, and you returned to your job.

Little did you know, Foreman was taking matters into his own hands despite your protests. The team liked you, there was no denying it, so of course he turned to Cuddy because of what you'd said. It was hard to believe, especially when you typically had a strong relationship with House, even when he was being childish.

House was in his office when Cuddy went search for him, her hands on her hips. He stared blankly upon her arrival, a frown on his face as he waited for what she had to say.

"You're going to make her quit,"

"Her?" House asked, shaking his head and shrugging as he waited for an elaboration. He looked toward the office door to see the team staring at him with disapproving looks, which caused him to sigh and roll his eyes, "Y/n's choices are not my fault."

“You’re pathetic,” Cuddy muttered. House shrugged. To him, there was no point in denying it. Cuddy clenched her jaw, “I thought you liked her!”

“She’s ear grating, like you,” Lisa frowned and House shrugged once more.

“I can’t lose another good doctor because of your antics, House,”

She spun on her heel and marched out of the room, leaving House to his own thoughts.

It was early in the evening, you’d showered and done some dishes, when there was a knock on your door. You were less than enthusiastic to open it, especially after peering through the hole to see House on the other side. He leaned on his cane lazily, a bag of what was clearly takeout food in his other hand as he looked down at you.

“What do you want?”

“I come bearing food,” he held the back up to emphasize his point.

You rolled your eyes and moved to slam the door in his face, but it made contact with his cane instead. House let himself in, limping toward your couch and plopping on it. The smell of the Chinese takeout hit your nose, making your mouth water as you pushed the door shut the rest of the way and turned to face the man on your couch.

“What do you want?” You repeated, less than enthused and lacking the emotion you usually had when speaking to House.

“Not a lot of hospitals would be willing to take you,” he spoke matter of factly. He dug into the brown paper bag, pulling out bulls of food and beginning to eat out of his own, “Foreman struggled to get a new job when he had to leave—“

“Foreman was accused of malpractice, and caught,” you reminded House.

“Malpractice is a common occurrence in this hospital, you think any other Dean would hire someone who’s worked with me? You’re poorly mistaken, Dollface,”

“You’re a piece of shit,” you spat, shaking your head and storming into the kitchen, “You know that?”

“I just call em like I see em,”

“If you don’t have anything genuine to say, then leave,”

There was silence, and then you heard your couch creak as he got up. Good, he got the point. That was what you thought until you heard his cane moving across the linoleum floor of your kitchen. You turned to see Greg House standing over you, and you gulped.

“What do you expect me to do here?” He questioned.

“Oh I don’t know, apologize?” You countered, side stepping him to grab a glass from a cupboard, “I was helping you. Making sure you were okay and not going to do something stupid after losing a patient — but apparently that wasn’t good enough, hm?”

“Y/n—“

“No, all I wanted to do was help you,” you faced him, “everybody in that damned hospital does what they can to help you, and this is how you repay us? That’s real shitty, House.”

House. Unlike everyone else, you rarely used his last name when talking to him. When speaking of him, sure, when in professional settings, almost always. But never in the privacy of you two or amongst friends. That’s when he realized the reality of what he’d caused.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he spoke, taking a step toward you. He leaned his cane on the counter and placed his hands on your waist. You didn’t move your arms from your sides, merely looking into his blue eyes to see if he was being genuine.

It seemed too good to be true.

“Accept the apology before I’m forced to take it back,”

And there it was.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” you muttered, moving your hands to rest on his biceps. House squeezed your waist, knowing that he got what he wanted. You rose to your tip-toes, your lips just barely touching his before you pulled away, “Now come on: that take-out is calling my name.”

[chosok-amo]

⠀⠀𝜗𝜚 ⠀⠀⠀HAIL TO THE ‘ GHOST ’

♱ summary. bent over, bent down and said cheese to the camera, click! one, two, three... another, cheese! it was fun, haunting down by a ghost, gojo satoru.

warning. college! au, séx tape, hāte sex, háir-pulling, name-calling, pet names, praise, cunnilingūs, fingering, anāl, spanking.

wc. (♱) MASTERLIST

“all hail to the ghost.”

your voice carried through the cavernous, darkened library, bouncing off the towering shelves and echoing in the dimly lit room. a few weak lamps flickered in the corners, casting long, distorted shadows on the walls. the heavy wooden door groaned as it swung shut behind you, sealing you in the silence.

you stood still for a moment, heart pounding, eyes scanning the vast emptiness. your friends had insisted this was the place, that if you wanted to buy a joint on halloween night, all you had to do was come here, say the words, and wait. the atmosphere was oppressive, thick with the musty scent of old books and something else—something unexplainable.

your breath hitched slightly as you strained to hear even the slightest sound. a quiet shuffle of footsteps or the rustle of pages would have been comforting. instead, only the oppressive silence of the library enveloped you, making you wonder if this was just some elaborate joke to freak you out.

suddenly, from the corner of the room, a faint, almost imperceptible noise—like the swish of fabric or a breath being drawn. you turned quickly, nerves on edge, hoping that the “ghost” your friends mentioned wasn’t just some urban legend to mess with the new students.

“well, well, well, look who we have here,” the voice was unmistakable—smooth and smug, dripping with the kind of confidence that had always grated on your nerves.

you froze, instantly recognizing the person behind the bookshelf even before seeing him. slowly turning, you saw him step out from the shadows, standing not too far away in black dress pants and a crisp white button-up shirt, a black tie knotted perfectly at his neck. his face was covered by a cheap ghost mask, but that damn smirk was impossible to hide. and, of course, there were those striking, infuriatingly bright blue eyes peeking through the mask, brimming with amusement.

gojo satoru.

of course it was him. it had to be him.

your jaw clenched involuntarily, a familiar surge of irritation rising in your chest. gojo had been a thorn in your side since middle school—always there, always teasing, always making your life just that little bit more difficult, always. it didn’t matter that the years had passed and you’d both matured; the rivalry had stuck, and seeing him now, in the dim light of the library, with that arrogant smirk plastered on his face, brought back every frustrating memory.

“what the hell are you doing here?” you spat, crossing your arms over your chest, already regretting stepping foot into this ridiculous halloween prank your friends had set up. if you had known gojo would be here, you would’ve stayed far, far away.

gojo tilted his head, pushing the ghost mask up to rest on top of his head, revealing his full face—his cocky grin only deepening. “what, you didn’t miss me?” he teased, his tone light and playful, as if your years of mutual antagonism were just a game to him. “i figured you’d come crawling in eventually after hearing about the ghost. guess curiosity really does kill the cat.”

you rolled your eyes, biting back the urge to snap at him. you weren’t going to let him get under your skin tonight, no matter how hard he tried. “you’re the ghost?” you asked incredulously, voice laced with disdain. “seriously, gojo, this is pathetic—even for you.”

he chuckled, stepping closer, hands casually sliding into his pockets as if he owned the place. “don’t be so mean. i’m just here doing my civic duty, giving the people what they want—some mystery, some excitement. it’s halloween, after all,” he said, his grin never faltering. “besides, who else would play the part better than me?”

“literally anyone,” you shot back, your eyes narrowing as he approached. “and i didn’t come here for you, so don’t flatter yourself.”

“really?” he drawled, stopping just a few feet in front of you, his blue eyes gleaming mischievously. “you sure about that? you came looking for a little halloween fun, right? maybe a little thrill?” he leaned in slightly, his voice lowering just enough to be annoying. “and here i am, ready to entertain.”

your fists clenched at your sides. gojo had always been like this—always pushing, always trying to get a reaction. in middle school, it was pranks, teasing, and outsmarting you in class just to prove he was better. in high school, it was constant competition over grades and sports. even now, in college, the rivalry hadn’t dulled, and neither had your mutual disdain.

his eyes flicked over your tensed body—the tight grip of your fists, the stiffness in your shoulders. he always loved riling you up like this, feeding off the tension between you. as he moved ever so slightly closer, he couldn’t help the smug grin spreading across his face. there was something about the way you reacted to him, the fiery anger you barely contained, that thrilled him. the closer he got, the thicker the air between you became.

“looks like i hit a nerve,” he crooned, his smirk widening as he took another step, now standing just inches away. his tall frame towered over you, those damn blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “you still can’t stand me, can you?”

you glared up at him, your body stiffening even more at his words. the audacity of this man—always thinking he could get away with anything, always acting like he had some upper hand. it makes your blood boil.

you met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down, and shot back with a venomous edge in your voice. “congratulations, gojo. you finally noticed. i can’t stand you,” you spat, sarcasm dripping from your words as you took a step closer, poking his chest with your finger. “in fact, you’re like a bad rash i’ve had since middle school—just as irritating, and just as impossible to get rid of.”

a small, amused scoff escaped him as you jabbed his chest. any other person might have been offended—or at least, feigning offense—but not gojo. in fact, your anger seemed to only add fuel to his fire. he relished in your irritation like a cat playing with a mouse.

he didn’t back off. in fact, he stepped even closer, closing the gap between your bodies until you were almost chest-to-chest. “aww, you’re hurtin’ my feelings,” he drawled, feigning disappointment. his eyes, however, were full of mirth.

his eyes… they were full of mischief, sparkling with amusement. he was enjoying this. too much.

before you could pull back, before you could fire off another insult or push him away, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. the gesture was soft, almost gentle, and it took you completely off guard.

“what the hell are you doing?” you hissed, trying to yank your hand free. but his grip tightened, his long fingers wrapping securely around yours, holding firm despite your resistance.

gojo’s smirk grew wider, his eyes dancing with amusement as he tilted his head slightly, watching you struggle. “what’s wrong?” he teased, his voice smooth and low. “you look nervous.”

his gaze flicked down to your hand, still trapped in his. “here,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a softer tone as if he were being sincere—though you knew better than to believe it. “let me hold your hand. it might calm you down.”

your heart pounded in your chest, both from the anger and the sudden gesture. gojo was a lot of things—annoying, arrogant, frustrating, but never soft. this unexpected gentleness was throwing you off.

but you refused to show any sign of weakness. you tried to pull your hand back again, only to have it held even tighter in his grip.

“i don’t need to be calmed down,” you muttered, bristling, trying to ignore the feeling of his long fingers wrapped around yours. the heat from his hand was starting to spread through your body like a spark.

gojo just grinned, clearly amused by your resistance, and before you knew it, he was pulling you along. his grip remained unyielding as he led you toward the nearby wooden table. with a fluid motion, he sat on the edge of it, pulling you to stand between his legs. his tall frame loomed over you again, but this time, it felt different—less playful and more… something else.

he finally released your hand, and for a brief moment, you thought you could breathe again. but then he pulled out a joint, waving it lazily in front of your face with that ever-present smirk. “so… is this why you came here?” he asked, his tone dripping with amusement as his bright eyes flicked over your face.

you found yourself standing way too close to him, suddenly hyper-aware of his presence. his legs bracketed yours, the heat from his body a stark contrast against the cool air of the library. your heart was lodged in your throat, the familiar mix of anger and something unidentifiable swirling together in your chest.

the sight of the joint in his hand felt like another jab. it was a reminder of your stupid decision, a reminder of why you were here. and all your efforts to stand your ground before were vanishing, replaced by a growing sense of unease.

you swallowed, forcing your tongue to work.

you narrowed your eyes at him, your irritation flaring up again. “you really think i’d come all the way here not just for that?” you crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to back down.

gojo chuckled, the sound light and teasing. “well, your friends said that’s the magic phrase, right? ‘all hail to the ghost.’” he grinned, twirling the joint between his fingers. “but maybe you came for something else. something… more interesting?” his voice dropped slightly, the suggestiveness in his tone unmistakable.

gojo's sudden shift in tone, in demeanor, was throwing you off. you were used to the arrogant, cocky side, but this new, slightly dangerous vibe was uncharted territory.

he leaned in closer, the joint spinning between his nimble fingers. a hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his eyes locked onto yours. “come on,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, “let’s be honest. a pretty girl like you, all alone in the library on halloween night, looking for a joint. there’s more going on here than just that, isn’t there?”

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms in front of your chest. the motion made your boobs puff slightly under your corset, though you didn’t think much of it at the time. you were more focused on maintaining your composure. “i came here for the joint, gojo. nothing more, nothing less,” you said with an air of finality, refusing to give him the satisfaction of riling you up further.

his eyes flickered over your body, the corner of his mouth curling in amusement as he lit up the joint and took a slow puff. the scent of smoke drifted between you, and his gaze wandered down, settling on your halloween costume. his smirk deepened as his free hand reached out, fingers lightly brushing the hem of your skirt—a skirt that, to his eyes, was far too short for his liking.

he exhaled slowly, the smoke trailing from his lips as he let his hand linger there for a moment longer than necessary. “what’s this supposed to be, huh? what are you dressed as?” his tone was mocking, eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned back slightly, his smirk turning wicked. “a slut?”

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms tighter against your chest, feeling a spark of irritation. of course, he wouldn’t get it. “it’s a police bunny,” you muttered, pouting slightly as your annoyance flared. “you know, like the one from zootopia?”

gojo’s smirk widened as if he found your frustration amusing. he took another slow puff of the joint, blowing the smoke out lazily. “oh, right, that bunny cop,” he drawled, eyes flicking over your outfit again with an air of mock understanding. “well, looks like she’s had a bit of a wardrobe update, huh?”

without breaking eye contact, you reached up and snatched the joint from his hand, bringing it to your lips with a deliberate slowness. gojo raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his bright blue eyes as you took a puff, inhaling deeply before exhaling the smoke in a slow, controlled stream.

you shifted, feeling a bit more self-conscious than you’d care to admit. it wasn’t your fault that nobody seemed to get your costume, probably because you’d… well, modified it to be more eye-catching. sure, the skirt was shorter, the corset a bit tighter when the original doesn't wear one, but can you really blame a girl for wanting to look hot and beautiful?

you huffed, still pouting as you shot him a glare. “it’s halloween, gojo. i wanted to look good. sue me for not wearing a full-blown mascot suit.” you muttered, resisting the urge to roll your eyes again. deep down, though, you were slightly upset. nobody seemed to get your costume, but all you wanted was to have fun and feel good in it.

gojo chuckled, his gaze roaming over your body once again. he watched intently as you took a drag from the joint, the smoke drifting from your lips in a controlled stream. “looks good on you,” he admitted, surprising you with the compliment. his smirk was still there, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place.

he leaned back, resting an arm lazily over his lap as he continued to eye you up and down. “a little revealing, though,” he added, his tone casual, yet laced with a teasing edge.

his eyes slowly raking over your costume—taking it in a little more thoroughly this time. the smirk widened into a wicked grin, his gaze lingering on the curves emphasized by the corset.

you hummed, caught his gaze as it lingered on your breasts, his eyes tracing the curve emphasized by the tight corset. the way he looked at you made your skin heat up, but you weren’t going to let him get the upper hand.

“you’re such a perv, gojo,” you muttered, rolling your eyes, though the slight smirk on your lips betrayed the frustration you tried to hold on to. you placed your hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension between you two spike again, the air heavy with something unspoken yet undeniable. “i didn’t come here for a show. sell me the joint already. i’m not leaving empty-handed.”

his grin never faltered, his fingers brushing lightly across your skin as they played with the hem of your skirt, teasingly close to your thigh. it was always like this. no matter how much you insulted each other, no matter the hatred you’d built up since middle school, whenever you were alone together, things always took this turn. a touch here, a lingering glance there— like the insults only serve to fuel the tension crackling between you.

gojo's eyes darkened with amusement as he responded to your insult. he leaned in closer, the scent of smoke and his intoxicating cologne washing over you. “and you’re a princess,” he retorted, his smirk widening. “always wanting something, never satisfied.”

he tilted his head slightly, his fingers still tracing languidly on the hem of your skirt, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “you think it’s that easy?” he murmured, the words a sultry edge to them. “i don’t give handouts, princess.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, his words only stoking the fire of irritation burning inside you. “i’m not asking for a freebie, gojo,” you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. “i’m going to pay you. it’s not like i came here expecting charity.”

you took another puff from the joint, inhaling deeply, the taste of smoke filling your lungs as you tried to push down the growing heat between you two. you exhaled slowly, letting the smoke drift between you before you passed the joint back to him with a cool, challenging look in your eyes.

“i don’t need handouts from someone like you,” you added, voice firm as you stood your ground, refusing to let him see how much his teasing was getting under your skin. but there was no denying the way his fingers still toyed with the hem of your skirt, his touch sending sparks across your skin. no matter how much you hated him, there was always this pull—a line neither of you seemed willing to stop crossing.

gojo chuckled, accepting the joint from you and taking a slow drag, his gaze on you the entire time, studying you. he blew out the smoke in a thin stream, the smirk still etched across his face. he was clearly enjoying this back-and-forth.

he leaned in again, his voice low, his words filled with thinly veiled provocation. “oh, princess,” he drawled, his eyes glimmering with a dangerous edge. “you’re not paying. not with money anyway.”

he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin. you could feel the heat of his body radiating off him, igniting a fire within you. his hand moved, slowly and deliberately caressing your thigh, his fingers tracing a path up your bare skin. he was testing the waters, seeing how far you’d let him go.

“you’ve come to me a lot, princess,” he said, his voice lower now, filled with a hint of danger. “every time you need something.” he leaned back, his hand dropping from your thigh as he took another drag from the joint. “you’ve never come here just to see me,” he continued, the joint hanging from the corner of his mouth, his gaze boring into you. “and i think we both know there’s something you want more than that joint, princess.”

he held your gaze for a moment, letting the suggestion hang in the air, then he smirked and leaned in again. his fingers brushed against your skin, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake. he was drawing closer, the gap between you shrinking with each passing moment.

with a playful hum, you reached up and pulled the ghost mask from his head, inspecting it closely as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. the cheap plastic crinkled slightly in your hands, and you couldn’t help but smirk at how ridiculous it looked without his signature cocky grin behind it.

“so, what’s it gonna take for you to sell me that joint, huh?” you asked, feigning innocence as you leaned in closer, eyes sparkling with mischief. “should i let you hunt me down? if you win, you can do whatever you want. but if i win… well, you’ll have to give me all the joints for free.”

it was supposed to be a joke.

gojo's eyes darkened with mischief as he watched you hold the mask. the corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk. “clever, princess. trying to bargain with me now,” he chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

he considered your proposal for a moment, his hand resuming its lazy tracing on the hem of your skirt. “a hunt, huh?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “so if i win, i get to do whatever i want with you. and if you win, you get all my weed for free.”

you leaned in, a teasing smirk playing on your lips as you let your fingers trail softly over his undercut. “are you scared you’re going to lose all your weed, gojo?” you asked, your tone light and playful, but there was an edge of challenge in your voice.

your touch sent a jolt through his body, his eyes flashing with challenge. “scared?” he echoed, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “you’re the one who’s going to lose. and when i win, i’m going to make sure you pay up, princess.”

he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin. “you really think you can hide from me?” he asked, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “or are you just hoping i’ll catch you?”

you felt a surge of exhilaration as you pulled him to his feet, your fingers brushing against his in a way that sent a thrill through both of you. a teasing smirk danced on your lips, your heart racing with the thrill of the chase. “all talk, gojo, always all talk,” you murmured, your voice sultry as you let your hands linger in his for just a moment longer.

then, with a quick, playful tug, you turned and walked deeper into the shadows of the library, glancing back over your shoulder. the sight of his wide, amused grin ignited a rush of adrenaline. “catch me if you can,” you called out, your voice echoing in the quiet space as you disappeared around a row of shelves.

you could hear his footsteps behind you, the sound of him following eagerly, and it only spurred you on. you weaved between the towering shelves, the thrill of the hunt igniting your senses. the darkness felt alive, and every corner turned was filled with the promise of what would happen when he finally caught you.

as you ventured further into the maze of books, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and defiance. gojo might be your enemy, but the electric tension between you was undeniable, and you were ready to play this game to its fullest. each step you took was a dare, a challenge, and you were determined to give him a run for his money.

gojo’s heart raced as he watched you slip away into the shadows. your challenge echoed in his ears, fueling his competitive spirit. and as he followed after you, the thrill of the hunt coursing through his veins, he found himself smiling.

he was excited, eager even, to catch you. to finally have you at his mercy. you were always a challenge, fiery and defiant, and he couldn’t help but admire that about you. every corner he turned, every glimpse he caught of you, only served to make his blood run hotter.

he moved quickly but quietly, prowling closer with each step, watching as you darted between the towering shelves like a nimble cat. “oh, princess,” he called out, his voice low and taunting, “don’t get lost now. i’m coming for you.”

gojo followed close behind you, his footsteps echoing through the library as he stalked after you. a wicked smile played on his lips, his eyes locked onto your shape in the shadows. every bend in the shelf, every turn, he followed, his keen eyes never leaving you.

he chuckled softly to himself, enjoying the thrill of the chase. the game had been set, and he was determined to win. he could sense your excitement too, the way your heart was racing, the way you kept glancing back over your shoulder to see if he was catching up.

gojo couldn’t help but tease you as he pursued. “you’re only making it easier for me, princess,” he called out, his voice dripping with arrogance. “the longer you run, the more i get to watch your pretty little body move.”

you chuckled from somewhere in the shadows, your voice muffled but laced with sass. “you better take your time, gojo,” you called out, playfully taunting him, “because you’re never going to touch it.”

the thrill of the chase was intoxicating, and you could hear the confidence in your voice despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach. you glanced around the dimly lit library, searching for a good hiding spot while keeping an eye on his movements. the thrill of his pursuit only made you more daring.

gojo grinned, his eyes lighting up at your playful words. “oh, princess,” he replied, his voice lowering into a growl, “don’t tempt me. when i catch you, i’m going to touch a lot more than just that pretty little body of yours.”

he continued his pursuit, his senses on high alert as he searched for you in the shadows. his steps were measured, calculated, as he scanned the library for any sign of you. he could hear your heartbeat, racing as fast as his own.

gojo's laughter echoed through the aisles, a sound both frustrating and enticing. “just wait until i catch you,” he added, shot back, the determination in his tone unmistakable. “you’re only delaying the inevitable.”

you smirked to yourself, feeling a surge of confidence as you ducked behind a particularly tall shelf, your heart racing. the game had just begun, and you were determined to keep him on his toes.

gojo’s eyes darted towards the tall shelf where you had just disappeared, his smirk growing wider. “can’t hide from me forever, princess,” he called out, his voice dripping with confidence. “the longer you hide, the more eager i am to find you.”

he crept closer, each step deliberate and calculated. he could tell you were close; he could almost hear your breathing, feel your presence. the thrill of the chase only heightened his senses, making him more focused and determined.

“come out, come out, princess,” he called out, his voice filled with mock sweetness. “there’s no use in hiding. you can’t escape me.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle as you walked silently past him, brushing your fingers against his arm just enough to send a jolt through him. the thrill of the moment sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. “there’s a sweetness for those who wait, gojo,” you called out, your voice teasing and playful, before slipping back into the shadows.

you could feel his gaze looking for you, the intensity of his focus making your heart race even faster. hiding felt exhilarating, the dark corners of the library offering a temporary sanctuary. you knew he wouldn’t give up easily, and the chase only made the game more enticing. you watched him from the darkness, smirking to yourself, relishing in the thrill of the hunt. he was determined, but you had no intention of making it easy for him.

as your fingers grazed his arm, gojo’s eyes darkened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “clever little thing, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “but you won’t escape me for long.”

he continued to stalk through the aisles, his gaze scanning the shadows intently. he could almost feel you nearby, but every time he turned a corner, you were gone. your quick movements and quick banter had his blood pumping, and that only made his determination to find you all the stronger.

gojo walked deeper into the library, his steps measured and careful, his senses on high alert. the silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of his footsteps. he knew you were nearby; he could almost taste your presence.

he couldn’t help but chuckle at your taunts. you were feisty, a challenge he had yet to fully defeat. “you keep hiding from me, princess,” he said, his voice carrying through the darkness, “but we both know you want me to find you.”

as you were about to turn around the shelf, a hand suddenly grabbed your wrist, and before you could react, you found yourself bent over the wooden table, your cheek pressed against the cool surface. a gasp escaped your lips, quickly followed by a frustrated groan. the unexpected movement caught you off guard, and you could feel your skirt ride up slightly, exposing your ass and your thong.

gojo’s presence loomed behind you, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned down closer. “gotcha,” he said, a triumphant smirk evident in his voice. the thrill of victory was palpable, and you could sense his excitement radiating from him.

“you thought you could outsmart me, huh?” he continued, his tone teasing yet laced with a hint of something more dangerous. “now, what should i do with you?” his fingers grazed your waist, lingering for just a moment too long, sending shivers down your spine.

you squirmed beneath him, feeling trapped and exposed. your face flushed red as you realized how vulnerable you were in this position. “let me go, asshole,” you demanded, though there was no real bite to your words. deep down, you reveled in being caught, in the thrill of the moment.

your heart pounded wildly as you felt his fingers trace along your curves. a small whimper escaped your lips, betraying your true feelings. you wanted him, craved his touch, even as you tried to resist. “you cheated,” you retorted weakly, hoping he couldn't hear the desire in your voice.

you arched your back slightly, pressing your rear against him. the friction sent electric sparks through your body, igniting a fire within you. you bit your lip, trying to stifle another moan.

“cheated?” gojo repeated, his voice low and mocking. “princess, this is war. and in war, anything goes.” he stood behind you, his presence overwhelming.

gojo chuckled darkly, his hand drifting further up your body, his touch exploring every inch of exposed skin. he could feel the heat radiating off you, the subtle arch of your back hinting at your desire. he knew he had you right where he wanted you, at his mercy and completely at his command.

he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “i don’t know about cheating, princess,” he murmured, his voice almost a growl. “after all, you were the one who decided to hide from me.”

gojo smirked, his hand still firmly holding your wrist as he loomed over you. the position was vulnerable and submissive, leaving you exposed and at his mercy. he savored the sight of your bent over the table, his eyes grazing over your body, taking in every curve and contour that was now on display.

“but you put up a good fight, princess,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble, chuckled as he felt your frustration, loving the thrill of having overpowered you. “but you can’t outsmart me. not when you’re like this— at my mercy.”

he placed his hands on your shoulders, holding you firmly in place. “you thought you're a sly fox, huh?” he asked, his tone teasing yet laced with a hint of something more dangerous. “you are just a dumb bunny, now, what should i do with you?”

he squeezed your shoulders gently, massaging the tense muscles. “you're mine now,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, “and i’m not letting you go.”

you trembled beneath his touch, your body responding to his dominance despite your best efforts to resist. “i'm not yours,” you insisted, even as your traitorous body betrayed your words. your nipples hardened, straining against the fabric of your shirt as gojo's hands roamed your curves possessively.

“please...” the word slipped out before you could stop it, a desperate plea for more even as your mind screamed at you to push him away. but you couldn't move, frozen in place by the intensity of his presence and the heat building between your thighs.

“i...I hate you,” you gasped, even as you arched into his touch, craving more of his intoxicating caress. your resolve was crumbling, your willpower eroding with each passing second. you could feel he flushed his bulge further into your ass.

“go ahead, say it louder,” gojo teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “i want everyone here to know how much you hate me.” he took a step closer to you, invading your personal space and forcing you to look up at him. “but we both know that isn't true, don't we, princess?” he challenged, his voice low and intense.

gojo smirked as he heard your words, sensing the weakness in your voice as you began to lose your resolve. he could tell how much you wanted him, how much your body was aching for his touch, despite your protests.

he moved his body closer, pressing his bulge against you firmly, making sure you could feel his arousal against your backside. he knew he had you now, completely at his mercy. “princess,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, “you may say you hate me, but this body of yours?” he squeezed one of your hips firmly, his touch possessive and dominating.

you let out a soft sigh, unable to deny the truth in his words. your body was betraying you, aching for his touch, craving his dominance. you hated him for making you feel this way, for turning you into a helpless mess beneath him.

you bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan as he squeezed your hip. your body was throbbing with need, your pussy clenching emptily as you fought to keep your composure. “stop... touching me,” you pleaded, your voice shaky and filled with desire.

you shifted uncomfortably, your thong riding up higher and revealing more of your ass to him. your cheeks clenched involuntarily, your body reacting to his touch without your permission.

gojo’s chest pressed firmly against your back, keeping you pinned against the table. your body trembled under him, but your words of protest fell on deaf ears. instead of loosening his grip, he only tightened it, his fingers curling into your hair. with one swift motion, he tugged it back, forcing your head up to face the phone he’d pulled out.

your reflection appeared on the screen—flushed cheeks, eyes wide, a mixture of defiance and vulnerability playing across your features. above you, gojo’s smirk was prominent, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of victory and mischief as he held the phone closer, framing the shot perfectly.

“cheese,” he murmured in a low voice, his grip on your hair firm, but not painful. he angled the phone just right, capturing the moment with himself looming over you like a predator who had finally caught his prey.

the flash went off, and he chuckled, pleased with himself as he glanced down at the photo. “you look perfect under me,” he teased, his voice dripping with satisfaction, before lowering the phone and leaning closer to your ear.

gojo's laughter echoed through the room, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine. he released your hair, his hand moving to stroke your cheek tenderly. “so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice husky with affection.

his other hand slid down your body, tracing the curve of your waist before resting on your hip. he squeezed your flesh, his touch firm and protective. “such a shame to cover this beauty up,” he murmured, admiring your elegance. he pulled your skirt upward, fully exposing your ass to his hungry eyes.

you squirmed uncomfortably as he lifted your skirt, your bare ass now fully on display for him. you could feel the cool air conditioning hitting your sensitive skin, making you shudder. your face burned with embarrassment and humiliation, knowing that he had complete control over you.

you tried to pull your skirt back down, but gojo grabbed your wrists, pinning them to your back with one large hand. his other hand drifted lower, cupping your mound possessively before flying a spank across your skin. you gasped at the intimate contact, your body tensing as you felt his fingers brush against your covered slit.

“fuck, gojo...” you whimpered, but there was no conviction in your voice. deep down, you craved his touch, needed him to claim you completely. your panties were soaked through, the evidence of your arousal clear for him to see.

gojo smirks at your feeble attempt to cover yourself, his grip tightening on your wrists. “there's no use hiding from me,” he purrs, his fingers tracing the outline of your folds through the damp fabric. “i can smell how much you want this.”

with a swift yank, he tears your panties away, leaving you fully exposed to his hungry gaze. his thumb finds your clit, circling the sensitive nub with maddening precision. “so wet already,” he taunts, two fingers dipping inside your slick heat without warning.

he pumps them slowly, his palm grinding against your clit with each thrust. his other hand releases your wrists, only to tangle in your hair, tugging your head back to expose your throat. he licks a stripe up your pulse point before biting down, marking you as his.

a sharp cry escaped your lips as gojo’s teeth sank into your neck, pain mixing with pleasure as he claimed you. your body bucked against his hand, your inner walls clenching around his fingers as they pumped in and out of you.

moans spilled from your mouth, lost in the heat of the moment. you were completely at his mercy, your senses overwhelmed by the sensations he was evoking within you. every touch, every bite, every filthy word sent sparks of electricity coursing through your veins.

“ahh... fuck, gojo!” you panted, your hips rocking against his hand desperately. you could feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core until it threatened to snap at any moment. your nails dug into his arm, the only anchor holding you grounded as gojo worked you over, “w-we were in the library, anyone could walk in here,” you stammered hardly between your moan.

gojo chuckles darkly, the vibrations sending tingles through your neck where he still lingers. “let them come,” he breathes against your skin, his fingers never ceasing their relentless pace inside you. “i’ll make sure they get an eyeful of my precious princess standing up to her arch-nemesis.”

he leans in close, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he whispers, “and when i’m done with you, they’ll all know why you're so desperate to defeat me.“ his free hand snakes around to rest on your waist, gripping tightly.

with a deft twist of his wrist, he curls his fingers to hit that sweet spot deep within you, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. your cries echo through the empty library, a symphony of determination that only serves to spur you on. “i won't let you win,” you gasp, pushing back against him with renewed vigor.

you grit your teeth, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break. even as your body trembles and your moans grow louder, you refuse to submit to him entirely. you lean forward, bracing yourself against the table as you grind back against his hand, taking his fingers deeper inside you.

“i will beat you,” you pant, your voice strained with exertion and pleasure. “one day, i'll prove that i'm stronger than yo— oh my god.” but even as the words leave your lips, you know it’s a lie. in this moment, with his hands on you and your body singing with ecstasy, you've never felt weaker. gojo owns you, mind, body and soul, and you know it.

gojo laughs, a rich, full-bodied sound that seems to reverberate through your very being. “oh, my dear, you already have,” he murmurs, his fingers never ceasing their maddening rhythm inside you. “you're mine now, whether you admit it or not.”

to punctuate his point, he adds a third finger, stretching you deliciously as he pistons them in and out. his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud. “come for me,” he demands, his voice low and rough with barely restrained lust. “show everyone who you belong to.”

his other hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair once more. he pulls your head back, forcing you to arch into him as he continues his assault on your senses. “that’s it, princess,”

you can feel your resolve crumbling, piece by piece, as gojo works you over. your body betrays you, arching into his touch, seeking more of that delicious friction. you try to hold back, to maintain some semblance of control, but it's a losing battle.

“no...” you whimper, even as your hips buck frantically against his hand. “i won't... i won't...”

but your protests ring hollow, even to your own ears. gojo knows it too, his chuckle rumbling through you as he feels you start to shake and quiver. “mhm!” you cry out, your voice breaking as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. your vision whites out, stars exploding behind your eyelids as your inner muscles clamp down around his fingers, milking them for all they're worth. your beautiful, freshly done nails scratch into the wooden table.

gojo groans as he feels your pussy flutter and clench around his fingers, your release drenching his hand. “that's it, princess,” he croons, continuing to pump his fingers slowly as you ride out the waves of your climax. ”so fucking gorgeous when you come undone for me.”

when your shudders finally subside, he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to suck them clean. his eyes roll back slightly as he savors your taste. “mmm, exquisite,” he purrs.

he spins you around to face him, capturing your lips in a searing kiss before you can protest. you can taste yourself on his tongue as he plunders your mouth, claiming you utterly. when he finally breaks away, you're left panting and dazed, clinging to him for support.

you stare up at gojo, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. your legs feel like jelly, barely able to keep you upright. you know you should push him away, should tell him to go to hell... but the heat in his eyes makes your core throb with need.

“you... you bastard,” you manage to gasp out, even as your hands slide up his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. “you think you've won just because you made me come?”

you hate him, you always hate gojo satoru. you have how his cheeks shape shifting to slight crushed cherry when winter's come, how well it blends with the snow and how his blue eyes become brighter and suddenly feels warm.

you hate how your hands are running to his chest to his nape, feeling the soft stubble of his undercut beneath the pad of your fingers. you hate how he makes you sit in the quiet library, just the two of you, and trying so hard as simply as breathing.

you always hate gojo satoru.

gojo smirks down at you, his eyes glinting with mischief and victory. “oh, i haven't even started winning yet, princess, i told you i'm going to touch more than just your pretty body,” he whispers, leaning closer until his breath fans across your flushed skin.

his hands roam over your curves, tracing every inch of your exposed flesh. he unclasps to your corsets, pushes it aside to the table after he takes it off of you, leaving you only with your blue crop button up shirt to expose your hardened nipples, pinching them gently between his fingers. a low growl escapes him as he watches your breasts bounce with each movement.

“go ahead, fight me,” he taunts, his free hand sliding down your stomach to dip into your dripping slit once again. “show me how much you hate me.”

your breath hitches as gojo's touch sends sparks through your body. despite your anger, despite everything, your hips cant help but grind against his hand, seeking more friction.

“fuck you,” you hiss, but there's no real venom behind your words. instead, you find yourself arching into his touch, chasing the pleasure he so easily draws from you. “this isn't fair,” you whine, but it comes out more like a moan. your hands claw at his shoulders, nails digging in just enough to leave marks.

gojo chuckles darkly, amused by your feeble protests. “life's not fair, princess. get used to it,” he says, pumping his fingers faster, harder, determined to make you fall apart completely.

with his free hand, he rips open your shirt, sending buttons flying everywhere. he leans down to capture one of your nipples between his teeth, biting just hard enough to make you cry out before soothing the sting with his tongue before he pulls away.

you whimper softly as gojo's teeth graze your sensitive nipple, the mix of pain and pleasure making your head spin. your back arches involuntarily, pressing more of your breast into his mouth.

when he pulls away, you're left panting, your chest heaving. you try to meet his gaze, but can't bring yourself to look him in the eye, not when you know what you see there— triumph, lust, and a hint of cruel amusement.

he looks at you for a moment, tracing his thumb to your flustered cheek. “do you know how long i've been waiting to have in my arms, y/n? you are always being a bitch and grumble and hate me every time, and now..” he trails off, “when i finally have you where i want you to, you think i would just let you go?” he added.

as he speaks, you feel a shiver run down your spine. his words are a threat, a promise, a declaration of intent. you know you should be scared, outraged, horrified... but all you can focus on is the ache between your thighs, the desperate need for more of his touch.

he scoffs at you, how your eyes look at him beautifully, as if you are silently begging him to ruin you without you even realizing. so gojo grabs his phone on the table and opens the camera. he places the phone on the shelf where it shows you clearly on the table and it will catch a glimpse of everything gojo plans to do to you.

you notice the phone, the camera trained on you like a predator stalking its prey. you grab his hands when he walks back to you and in a second, your lips meet with his. “you... you sick fuck,” you breathe on his lips, but the words lack conviction.

gojo smirks at your half-hearted insult, enjoying the taste of your bitter resentment mixed with something sweeter, something he recognizes as desire. he captures your lips again, kissing you deeply, thoroughly, drinking in every gasp and whimper that escapes you.

his hands roam over your body, mapping out every curve and dip, committing them to memory. he breaks the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the tender skin until you're squirming beneath him.

“go ahead, call me names,” he murmurs against your throat, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “it only makes me harder for you.” with those words, he pushes your legs apart and settles between them, the thick bulge in his pants pressing insistently against your core.

you moan shamelessly as gojo's lips and teeth work over your neck, leaving marks of possession. you can already imagine the bruises blooming on your skin tomorrow, a visible reminder of his claim on you.

“gojo...” you hiss through clenched teeth when he presses against you, the heat of him searing even through the fabric separating you. your hips buck up instinctively, seeking more friction, more contact.

gojo lowers himself until his knees are rooted to the wooden floor of the library. he hugs your thighs before spreading it apart, parading your glisten cunt to his hunger self. one of your hands fists in his hair, intentionally making his ghost mask fall to the floor while the other claws at his shoulder, nails digging into skin. you want to hurt him, to mark him as he's marking you. you want him to feel the same desperate need consuming you.

“i hate you,” you pant, looking down to the man, even as your body betrays you, arching into his touch like a cat in heat. “i hate you so much...”

gojo chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating through you where his face is buried between your thighs. he inhales deeply, relishing the scent of your arousal.

“i don't think you do,” he says, his voice muffled slightly by your flesh. “not really.“ his tongue flicks out, teasing along your slit, gathering the evidence of your desire. “your body tells a different story.”

he parts your folds with his fingers, exposing your swollen clit to the cool air before sealing his mouth over it. he suckles greedily, lapping at the bundle of nerves like a starving man.

you cry out sharply at the sudden assault of his mouth, your head hangs low to meet his gaze, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations. each pull of his lips sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your core.

one hand slides up your stomach to cup your breast, kneading roughly as he pinches and rolls the hardened peak between his fingers. the other grips your hip tightly, holding you in place as he devours you. “but tell me, darling... does it make you crazy? does hating me make you wetter?” he asks, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he watches your reaction.

“mhm— no, i hate it,” you lie, fingers tightening painfully in his hair. tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the sheer force of your reactions. gojo groans appreciatively against your sex, the vibrations only adding to your torment. he doubles his efforts, alternating between long licks and quick flicks of his tongue, determined to wring every drop of pleasure from you.

“you love it,” he growls, releasing your nipple, “you love being at my mercy, being used for my pleasure. you want me just as much as i want you.“

gojo looks up at you, eyes dark with lust as he continues to lavish attention on your sensitive flesh. “admit it,” he commands, punctuating his words with a particularly sharp nip to your inner thigh. “tell me how badly you need me.”

his free hand drifts lower, fingers circling your entrance teasingly but never quite penetrating. “i can feel how empty you are, craving to be filled. your pretty little pussy is aching for my cock, isn't it?”

he dips the tip of his finger inside you, just enough to gather some of your slick before bringing it to his lips. gojo makes a show of tasting you, humming in approval. “delicious. almost better than sake.” he returns to devouring your cunt, driving two fingers deep inside you as he slurps and laps. the wet sounds fill the room, mingling with your moans and whimpers.

you gasp, hips jerking involuntarily as he sinks his fingers deeper within you. your walls clench around him reflexively, desperate for something more substantial.

“yes...” you admit breathlessly, “i need you.” your hands find their way into his hair again, nails digging into his scalp as you grind down onto his face. “please, satoru... i can't stand it anymore.”

the sensation of his tongue sliding inside you, curling and twisting, pushes you closer to the edge. your orgasm builds rapidly, coiling tight in your belly before erupting with a loud cry. your thigh pressing together, unconsciously crushing gojo's head in between while you shaking uncontrollably.

gojo moans into your cunt as he feels your release wash over him, your juices flooding his mouth. he laps them up greedily, prolonging your climax with skillful strokes of his tongue and fingers.

when the aftershocks finally subside, he pulls back slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. he smirks up at you triumphantly, eyes glinting with satisfaction. “there we go. wasn't so bad admitting the truth, was it?”

he rises fluidly to his feet, towering over your trembling form. gojo palms his straining erection through his pants, the thick outline clearly visible. “now then... what shall we do about this problem?” he asks huskily, thumb brushing over the damp spot on the fabric.

your body still quivers from the intensity of your orgasm, leaving you feeling weak and vulnerable beneath gojo's imposing figure. his words and actions make it abundantly clear that he intends to claim you fully, and the thought both terrifies and excites you.

“we're in the library for fuck sake, gojo,” you manage to spit, despite the heat pooling in your core at the sight of his arousal. “what if suddenly someone said ‘all hail to the ghost’? you're just suddenly gonna sell your drug, then? besides, we hate each other, remember? shouldn't we don’t do this?” your thumb touching his chin, wipe your juice clean that covers his chin.

but even as you protest, your legs instinctively part wider, silently inviting him to continue. the ache between your thighs grows more insistent, begging for relief only his cock could provide. gojo chuckles low in his throat, seeming to read your conflicting emotions easily. “nonsense,” he dismisses, beginning to unfasten his belt, “we’re already past ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t’.”

gojo's smile widens as he shrugs off his tie and tosses it aside, revealing his neck clad in a crisp white shirt. the buttons strain against his growing arousal, hinting at the impressive length concealed beneath.

“besides,” he adds, voice dropping an octave as he steps closer, “i’d much rather ravage you here than anywhere else. the thrill of doing it where we shouldn't... it only heightens the pleasure, don’t you think?”

he reaches out to trace a finger along your jawline, tilting your face up to meet his piercing gaze. “and as for our rivalry, let’s just say it won’t change a thing. enemies or not, i intend to claim every inch of you.” with a swift motion, gojo rips open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere.

you watch, transfixed, as gojo's shirt falls open, exposing his toned chest and abdomen. the air seems to vibrate with tension as he looms over you, his intense gaze boring into your very soul.

a shiver runs down your spine at his words, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through your veins. the idea of being thoroughly claimed by your sworn enemy sends a thrill straight to your core.

“you really are insane,” you breathe, even as your body betrays you, arching into his touch. your hands come up to rest on his bare chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. the heat emanating from his skin is almost palpable, drawing you in like a moth to flame. you lean closer, taking his nipple in your mouth without breaking the eye contact.

a guttural groan escapes gojo's lips as your mouth closes around his sensitive nipple, his fingers threading through your hair to hold you in place. “fuck, that’s it,” he growls, hips jerking forward involuntarily.

his free hand slides down to cup your cheek, angling your head for better access as he guides your movements. “suck harder, i can feel my cock throbbing for you already...”

gojo's words are punctuated by sharp intakes of breath, each one a testament to the pleasure you're eliciting from him. his grip on your hair tightens slightly, a subtle warning not to stop, not now when he's so close to losing control. the musky scent of his arousal fills your nostrils, mingling with the earthy smell of old books and dust that permeates the library.

the encouragement in gojo's voice emboldens you, and you redouble your efforts, sucking harder on his nipple while grazing the tip with your teeth. his reaction is immediate and visceral— a low moan, a twitch in his hips, a surge of heat that radiates from his chest to yours.

emboldened, you release his nipple with a soft pop and trail your lips down his stomach, pausing to nuzzle the waistband of his pants. the fabric is warm and damp, clinging to the unmistakable bulge straining against it.

“gojo...” you murmur against his skin, looking up at him through hooded eyes, “let me see you. all of you.” your hands fumble with the button and zipper of his pants, eager to free the hard length you've been craving.

a shudder runs through gojo's body at the sound of his name on your lips, combined with the sensation of your breath ghosting over his clothed erection. “shit, you have no idea what you do to me,” he groans, head falling back as he fights the urge to thrust into your face.

when your fingers finally free him from the confines of his pants, gojo lets out a hiss of relief. his cock springs forth, thick and heavy, the swollen head already glistening with pre-cum. he's long and girthy, easily the biggest you've ever seen, and the sight makes your mouth water with anticipation.

“is this what you wanted?” gojo taunts, fisting his shaft and giving it a slow stroke. “to see how hard you make me? how badly i need to be inside you?”

your eyes widen at the impressive sight before you, gojo's cock standing proud and erect, begging for attention. you lick your lips unconsciously, already imagining how he would taste, how he would feel stretching you open. “yes,” you breathe, nodding eagerly, “i want it. i want you.”

without hesitation, you go down on your knees and lean forward and run your tongue along the underside of his shaft, starting at the base and working your way up to the weeping tip. you swirl your tongue around the head, lapping up the salty-sweet essence of his arousal.

“mmm, you taste so good,” you purr, looking up at him with lust-darkened eyes. “i could suck you off forever.” your eyes gaze towards his phone that is still recording just for a moment before focusing back on his cock.

gojo's eyes roll back in bliss as your hot little mouth works over his aching cock, his hand coming down to tangle in your hair once again. “just like that, just like that, my perfect little cocksucker,” he moans, hips rocking subtly to meet your movements.

he watches through heavy-lidded eyes as you worship his dick with your tongue, committing every second of your ministrations to memory—and to video. the knowledge that he's capturing this intimate moment only serves to heighten his arousal, his balls drawing up tight with the promise of an impending orgasm.

“keep going, don't stop,” gojo demands, his grip on your hair tightening as he starts to thrust shallowly into your mouth. “want to feel that pretty throat squeeze my cock as i come down it.”

you relax your jaw and take him deeper, inch by inch, until your nose is buried at the base of his shaft. you hold him there, swallowing convulsively around his thickness, reveling in the feeling of being completely filled and stretched.

you groan around his cock, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation. you start to bob your head, setting a steady rhythm as you suck and slurp obscenely, determined to bring him to the edge. one hand comes up to fondle his heavy balls, rolling them gently in their sack as the other grips the base of his shaft, stroking what you can't fit in your mouth.

gojo grunts loudly, his thighs quivering as you deepthroat him expertly. “fuck... you're amazing with that mouth of yours,” he praises between ragged breaths, the pleasure coursing through him like wildfire.

the sensation of your hands on his balls and the base of his cock is too much—too damn perfect—and he can barely resist the urge to just slam into your face and fill your mouth. but he holds back, savoring every moment, knowing full well that this is going to be one hell of a climax.

“go on, keep doing that,” he urges, pushing his hips forward slightly to encourage you. “make me cum, let's get this fucking video started right.”

you double your efforts, sucking harder and faster, hollowing your cheeks to create the most delicious suction. your tongue lashes against the sensitive underside of his cockhead each time you pull back, flicking rapidly over the slit to lap up the copious precum leaking out.

your fingers massage his balls firmly now, rolling and squeezing the taut skin, coaxing out his load. you can feel him getting closer, his shaft throbbing and pulsing against your tongue as his breathing grows more labored.

with a muffled moan, you take him impossibly deep one last time, swallowing repeatedly around him as you look up into his eyes with pure need and hunger. you want it, want him, want to drink down every last drop of his cum.

gojo lets out a guttural groan, his body tensing as he reaches the brink. “’m gonna—!” he gasps, his voice cracking as he fights to hold onto control.

but it's no use—the pleasure is too intense, too overwhelming. with a final, sharp thrust of his hips, gojo spills his seed deep inside your eager mouth, filling you up to the brim with thick ropes of cum.

“ahh... fuck, yeah!” he groan triumphantly, his entire body shaking from the force of his orgasm. “swallow it all down—you're my good girl.”

you swallow rapidly, gulping down every drop of his hot essence as it floods your mouth. some dribbles out the corners of your stretched lips, running down your chin obscenely, but you do your best to catch it all.

when he finally finishes emptying his balls, you release his softening cock from your lips with a wet pop. you sit back on your heels and look up at him with lust-glazed eyes, licking your lips clean of his cum.

“delicious,” you purr sultry. “i could get used to having you feed me like this.”

you reach for the camera, making sure it caught everything. then you stand up and press yourself against his sweat-slicked body, nuzzling into his chest affectionately. everything feels new, addicting, so sudden and your head feels like spinning from the pleasure and sudden change. “oh god, what the fuck am i doing with you, gojo?”

gojo chuckles breathlessly, pulling you close and draping an arm around your waist. “what are you doing with me? baby, we both know it’s the other way around,” he replies playfully, giving your ass a light smack.

he glances over at the camera, satisfied that it captured the moment perfectly. “look at us, already blowing each other’s minds before we’ve even gotten started,” he remarks with a smirk. “and you say that like it's a bad thing. i’d be happy to feed you like this anytime, anywhere.”

his hand slides lower, cupping your mound possessively. “you are gorgeous, did you know that? have i ever told you that?” he asked huskily, rubbing slow circles over your ass before giving a spank. “let me worship this gorgeous body of yours properly...”

you shiver as his hand cups your sex, pressing back into his touch eagerly. “mmm, yes please,” you breathe, arching into his palm. “worship me gojo, make me forget my own name...”

you wrap your arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe to capture his lips in a searing kiss. you pour all your pent-up desire into it, kissing him deeply and filthy, tongues tangling together. when you finally break away, you're both panting softly. you spin him around just a little until your ass touching the wooden material of the table behind you and he stand in front of you.

“oh, i will make you forget everything except my name, trust me,” gojo growls against your lips, hands gripping your hips tightly. he easily lifts you up and sets you on the edge of the table, pushing between your thighs to claim another hungry kiss.

his hands roam your curves greedily, caressing every dip and swell. “fuck, you feel amazing,” he groans, squeezing your breasts roughly. “i wonder how you feel when my dick deep inside you.”

gojo lean down, burying his face in your cleavage and motorboating you playfully. he nips and suckles at the sensitive skin there before trailing kisses down your stomach before standing tall. “want me to worship this sweet pussy of yours?” he asks wickedly, looking at you through his white lashes. he nudges your legs, opening them wider while his hand slapping your dripping cunt roughly.

you gasp sharply at the slap, feeling your clit throb with pleasure. “gojoooo,” you cry out, writhing beneath his touch and whining. your free hand grip his waist closer as you look up to him and pouting.

your fingers tangle in his messy hair, urging him closer to where you ache most. “don't tease me,” you plead, bucking your hips towards his waiting hand, “just fuck me already.”

gojo smirks down at you, clearly enjoying your desperation. “patience, baby,” he purrs, running his thumb over your swollen clit. “we’re going to savor this moment.”

he leans in to capture your mouth again, tongue delving deep to taste you thoroughly. as he kisses you, his fingers slide through your slick folds, teasing your entrance before circling your clit once more.

“gojo, please,” you whimper against his lips, trying to grind yourself onto his hand. he chuckles lowly, breaking the kiss to trail open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your throat. “you want it so badly, don't you?” he murmurs hotly against your skin, nipping at your pulse point. “fine, but you better be ready for me to destroy this tight little cunt of yours.”

you moan loudly as he nips at your sensitive skin, your body trembling with anticipation. “sooo bad!” you whining, voice hoarse with need as you tug his hand.

you fumble with his chest, skating your hand down to his still rock-hard cock while your other hand is pushing his hips closer to your already itching cunt, begging for him to fuck you. “pleaseee,” you breathe another whining.

gojo grins at your eagerness, his body shaking with barely contained laughter. “you're so desperate,” he teases, his hand moving to guide his thick length to your needy entrance. “i'm gonna make you scream my name,“ he promises darkly, thrusting home in one smooth motion. “and nothing else.”

you let out a loud gasp as he fills you completely, stretching your walls deliciously. “o-oh shit—” you stammer, your back arching off the air towards gojo with the sudden fullness. your eyes goes widened just for a moment before it goes back to normal. gojo satoru's dick is fucking huge.

your nails dig into his flesh, scratching down his back as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you. “harder,” you demand, bucking your hips to meet each of his powerful thrusts. never once in your life have you ever thought about having sex with gojo satoru, but here you are in the quiet library with nobody around.

gojo lets out a growl of satisfaction at your demanding tone, picking up the pace of his thrusts. each movement sends waves of pleasure through both bodies. “you like that?” he asks huskily, leaning down to capture a nipple between his teeth. he bites gently before soothing it with his tongue, all while maintaining an unrelenting rhythm inside you.

“fuck... i can feel how wet you are,” he groans, pulling almost entirely out before slamming back into you. “mhm, uh, just like that,” you cry out, head thrashing against the gojo's chest as he pounds into you mercilessly. your body trembles with every powerful thrust, your inner walls clenching tightly around his thick shaft.

you can't help but moan louder, not caring who might hear you. all that matters right now is the intense pleasure coursing through your veins, building higher and higher with each passing second. “more,” you pant, fingernails digging into his shoulders, “don't stop, please don't stop!”

your hips move frantically, meeting each of his thrusts with equal fervor as you chase your release. the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mixing with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

gojo's breathing grows ragged as he continues his relentless assault on your senses, sweat dripping down his brow. he grips your thighs tightly, holding them spread wide as he drives into you with abandon.

gojo snarls, feeling your inner muscles flutter around him. “you're gonna make me cum if you keep squeezing me like that,” he warns, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. his free hand moves to your breast, kneading roughly as he pinches and rolls your nipple between his fingers. he can feel the tension coiling tighter within you, urging him on.

“i want to,” you gasp, biting down hard on your lip to suppress the sounds threatening to spill from your lips. your pussy clenches tighter around gojo's throbbing member, milking him for all he's worth.

each deep thrust sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “’m gonna...” you whimper, unable to finish your sentence due to the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. the sensation of being filled so completely by gojo makes you dizzy; there's no way you could hold back much longer.

gojo grits his teeth, fighting the urge to let go as he feels your impending orgasm approaching. he wants to prolong this moment, savor the exquisite tightness surrounding him. but your quivering walls are too tempting, begging him to succumb to bliss.

gojo's movements become erratic as he feels his own release approaching. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as he pants harshly against your skin.

“cum for me,” he demands, his voice strained with effort and pleasure. “let me feel you come undone on my cock.” he changes the angle of his thrusts slightly, hitting that special spot inside you with every stroke. combined with the relentless stimulation of your sensitive bundle of nerves, it proves to be too much.

with a final cry of ecstasy, you shatter beneath him, your inner walls clamping down around gojo's cock like a vice as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over you. you scream in pure ecstasy as your climax hits you like a cold shower, your vision going white as your body convulses uncontrollably. every nerve ending feels electrified, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your trembling form.

gojo follows soon after, with a guttural groan he spills himself deep inside you, his hot seed filling you to the brim. he tries not to collapse into you, putting his weight into the table as his gripping tightly on the edge, both of you panting heavily as you try to catch your breath.

for several moments neither of you speak, simply basking in the afterglow of your shared passion. finally, gojo lifts his head to look at you, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

“beautiful,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair away from your sweaty forehead. “so fucking beautiful.” you smile hearing his words, swimming your delicate fingers in the air for a second before it lands to wipe gojo's sweat of his eyebrows. “who knows, fucking my enemy can feel this good,” you utter jokingly, lean your hands on the table.

gojo chuckles, a low rumble emanating from his chest as he leans back slightly, still buried deep within you. “well, i guess that just means i've got to fuck you again sometime soon,” he teases, his eyes glinting with mischief behind his sunglasses.

he pulls out slowly, watching with satisfaction as his thick essence dribbles out of your stretched opening. gojo gives your ass a playful slap, enjoying the reddening of your skin beneath his touch.

his gaze drops to your swollen lips, eyes sparkling with mischief and lingering desire. without breaking eye contact, he captures your lips in another searing kiss, tongue delving deep to claim your mouth once again.

as he explores the warmth and sweetness of your kiss, gojo's hands begin to wander, tracing the curves of your body with a reverent touch. he cups your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they stiffen against his palms. breaking the kiss, gojo nuzzles his nose against yours, exhalting softly.

you gasp feeling his hot breath on your flushed skin, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. you reach up, your fingers threading through his messy white hair, pulling him closer if possible. your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, more of him. you moan softly, biting your lip to stifle the sound as his thumb brushes over your nipple, causing sparks of pleasure to shoot straight to your core.

you’re completely lost in the sensations, your mind foggy with lust and desire. you arch your back, pressing yourself harder against his touch, silently begging for more. gojo nuzzles his nose against yours, exhaling softly. you let out another breath, soft and warm against gojo's cheeks. you lean closer, hesitantly erasing the gap between his lips and yours before you draw back just a little, also nuzzles your nose against his.

“what are you doing, you silly girl?” gojo asks playfully, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing the sting with a lick.

“i want more...” you whimper needily. at your response, gojo grins, a devilish gleam lighting up his ice-blue eyes. he presses a tender kiss to the tip of your nose while you grinding shamelessly against him resulting with gojo groans, his hardness stirring to life again at the sensation of your slick heat rubbing against him.

a contented hum vibrates through gojo's chest as he savors the intimacy of the moment, relishing in the closeness and connection he shares with you. your fingers tangled in his hair only serve to heighten his arousal, and he can't help but grind his hips against yours, letting you feel the evidence of his renewed interest.

“i want you, y/n, again,” you murmur, breaking the gentle nose-to-nose contact, gojo trails kisses along your jawline, pausing to nibble and suck at the sensitive skin there. he continues his exploration downwards, licking a path across your collarbone before dipping lower to tease the swell of your breasts with his tongue.

his hand slides down to grip your hip, fingers digging in possessively as he guides you to stand. once on your feet, gojo spins you around, pressing your front against the cool surface of the table. before he walks to grab his phone and back to you, still recording.

you gasp as gojo spins you around, the sudden change in position leaving you momentarily disoriented. you press yourself back against the cold surface of the table, a shiver running down your spine, you feel vulnerable yet electrified, your senses heightened by the intimate act.

the air between you is charged with an electric tension, every breath you take seems heavier than the last. you bite your lip to suppress a moan when gojo's fingers dig into your hip, claiming you as his own.

when he steps away, you glance over your shoulder, watch him with wide eyes, the sight of his muscular back flexing as he moves filling you with a new wave of desire. you shift restlessly, your legs trembling with the effort of keeping yourself upright. you catching gojo's piercing gaze as he continues to record you with his phone. a shiver runs down your spine at the realization that he's still capturing this moment, preserving the raw, unfiltered desire between you two.

“gojo...” you whining.

by the time he returns, you're panting lightly, your body already responding to his mere presence. you look up at him through half-lidded eyes, a silent plea for more in your gaze.

gojo's presence looms large behind you, his towering frame casting a shadow over your smaller form. you can feel the heat radiating off his body, mingling with the chill of the table. it's a stark contrast that sends a thrill through you.

“don't worry, i won't let you fall,” gojo whispers, his voice low and husky, filled with promise. he leans down, pressing a searing kiss to the exposed curve of your neck, his hands roaming freely now that he had returned.

one hand finds its way to your breast, palming the soft flesh, thumb circling over your nipple, coaxing it into a hardened peak. the other travels lower, slipping beneath the hem of your skirt, fingertips brushing against the damp fabric.

you arch into his touch instinctively, a soft moan escaping your lips as pleasure shoots straight to your core. you squirm against him, desperate for more friction, more of his talented hands exploring your sensitive skin.

“hold me,” you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper. you tilt your head back, giving gojo better access to your neck, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he kisses and nibbles at your tender skin.

your breasts ache for his touch, nipples hardening further under his skilled ministrations. you reach back, threading your fingers through his messy white hair, pulling him closer to you.

his hand on your breast squeezes gently, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. the sensation of his fingers tracing the edge of your skirt, teasingly close to where you need him most, drives you wild. you grind back against his hand, seeking relief from the building pressure.

“i’ve got you,” gojo murmurs against your skin, his hot breath ghosting over your ear. he slides his hand higher, pushing your skirt up around your waist. his fingers skim over your inner thighs, tauntingly close to your aching center.

he nips at your earlobe before soothing the sting with his tongue. “you're so responsive, so eager for my touch.”

gently, he eases you onto your stomach, the cool surface of the table a shock against your heated skin. he leans over you, his chest pressed to your back, one hand sliding up your side to cup your breast, while the other dips between your thighs, finally touching you where you needed him most.

“i'm going to make you feel so good, baby,“ he promises, his fingers stroking along your slick folds. “have you ever getting fuck in your ass before, baby?” you send a soft spank on your ass before spreading them apart.

“no..” you admit breathlessly, your hips bucking slightly as gojo's fingers find your entrance. you bite your lip, trying to stifle a moan as he begins to explore your most intimate area. his touch is electric, sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins.

“please...” you whimper, unsure what you're begging for but craving more of his skilled caresses. “more...”

gojo's fingers press deeper, curling inside you as he strokes your inner walls. you clench around him, your body responding eagerly to his invasion. the thought of taking him in your ass sends a thrill through you, a mix of apprehension and excitement. “do you want to..?” you trail off, leaving the decision in his capable hands.

“we'll start slow, alright?” gojo reassures you, his voice dripping with seduction. his fingers slide out of you only to tease your swollen clit, coaxing another moan from your lips. then, just when you think you can't stand the teasing anymore, he presses two fingers back into your tight hole, stretching you slowly, methodically.

“relax, i'll take good care of you.” gojo presses another open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder blade as he slowly works two fingers into your tight heat. he scissors them, stretching you gently, preparing you for his cock.

“let me take care of everything,” he whispers, kissing along your spine. his thumb continues to work your clit, adding to the mind-numbing pleasure. you can hear the slick sound of your arousal coating his fingers, mixing with the wet slap of his palm against your sensitive bud.

once you've adjusted to the initial intrusion, he adds a third finger, pumping them steadily as his other hand continues to knead and massage your breast. he rolls your nipple between his fingers, pinching lightly until you arch your back, pushing yourself more firmly into his touch.

the tension builds within you, coiling tighter and tighter until you're on the brink of release. suddenly, he withdraws completely, leaving you panting and needy. “are you ready for more?”

you nod frantically, unable to form words as waves of pleasure continue to crash over you. “yes... please...” you beg, your voice trembling with need. you spread your legs wider, inviting him to continue his ministrations. “i need you,” you confess, turning your head to look back at him. the sight of his confident smile, combined with the lustful glint in his eyes, sends another wave of desire coursing through you.

“good girl,” gojo praises, his voice low and husky. he trails kisses down your spine, pausing to nibble on your lower back before positioning himself at your entrance. “get ready, because i'm going to fill you up nice and slow.”

his thick cockhead nudges at your tight hole, applying gentle pressure as he starts to push in. you gasp, feeling the stretch as he buries himself inch by delicious inch. “breathe,” he commands, holding still until you relax again.

gradually, he sinks deeper, filling you until there's no space left between you. “ohh, fuck... squeezing me too fucking tight,” gojo groans softly, his hands gripping your hips tightly. once he's fully sheathed inside you, he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to the sensation before beginning to move.

“shit, shit, shit,” you cry out as he finally pushes past the ring of muscle, sinking deep into your tight passage. the fullness is unlike anything you've ever experienced before— intense and overwhelming in the best possible way. you feel so deliciously stuffed, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

your walls flutter and clench around him instinctively, drawing him in even deeper. “slowly— god, slowly, gojo,” you whimper, having your forehead pressed against the cold tabletop and your eyes tightly shut.

“fuck, your ass is so tight, like it wants to swallow my whole cock,” gojo groans, starting to thrust slowly. he pulls out almost all the way before sliding back in, burying himself to the hilt. “i love how you feel around me, so hot and wet...”

he sets a steady rhythm, each stroke sending jolts of pleasure through your body. his hands roam your curves, caressing your sides, your breasts, your thighs. he leans over you, pressing his chest against your back as he rocks into you. “you're doing so well, taking me so deep,” he murmurs in your ear, nipping at your earlobe. “such a good little slut for me, aren't you?” his dirty talk combined with the intense sensations quickly drives you towards the edge.

“fucking hell, gojo! slowly!” you moan and groan wantonly. your gaze meets his over your shoulder as you glare at him, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. the filthy words falling from his lips only heighten your arousal, making you feel deliciously dirty and used.

your body trembles and shakes, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations. your fingers scrabble for purchase on the smooth surface of the table, nails digging into the wood as you try to ground yourself. “it hurts a bit, okay?” you grumble between your moan.

“i know, baby. just breathe through it,” gojo coos, slowing his thrusts even more. “i'll make it feel so much better, i promise.” he reaches around to rub circles on your clit, trying to distract you from the slight pain. “focus on the pleasure, let it wash over you...”

he kisses and licks at your neck, alternating between soft sucks and sharp nips. his free hand slides up your body to pinch and tug at your nipples, rolling them between his fingers.

“that's it, just like that,” he encourages as you start to relax into the sensations. “let me make you feel good, sweetheart. i want to hear you scream my name when you come undone.”

his thrusts gradually pick up speed again, each one hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. your forehead pressed harder against the table top sending a wave of disapproval from gojo. his hand took a fist of your hair and pulled your head back, “no, no, no, don't hide from the camera, let the camera see your beautiful face when i fuck you,” he said, grinning happily towards the camera.

you whine softly as he pulls your head back, but then you force yourself to look at the camera, even as tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the intense stretching and pleasure. your cheeks flush a deep crimson as you bite your lip, trying to stifle a scream.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, gojo,”you manage to gasp out, your voice trembling with need. the dual sensations of his thick cock pounding into you and his fingers teasing your sensitive clit are too much to bear. gojo growls approvingly, watching you struggle to hold back your cries. “you’re so fucking beautiful when you're in pain,” he says, his tone filled with lustful admiration.

he quickens his pace once more, driving into you with relentless force. each thrust sends ripples of pleasure coursing through your body, making your legs quiver beneath you. his grip on your hair tightens as he yanks your head back further, forcing you to arch your spine and present yourself fully to him. the change in angle allows him to hit even deeper, his cockhead brushing against your wall with each merciless plunge.

“look at how hard your nipples are getting,” he taunts, pinching them sharply between his thumb and forefinger. “you're such an exhibitionist, loving every second being filmed while we fuck...”

you can't help but cry out loudly now, your moans echoing off the walls as gojo pounds into you relentlessly. “gojo, shit, shit— ahh,” you chant breathlessly, your hips bucking back to meet his brutal thrusts. the mix of pain and pleasure is dizzying, overwhelming your senses until all you can focus on is the feeling of his huge cock splitting you open.

tears stream down your face as you stare wide-eyed at the camera, your expression a perfect mix of agony and ecstasy. your tits bounce lewdly with each slam of his hips against yours, the buds of your nipples stiff peaks begging to be sucked.

“harder,” you plead desperately, lost in a haze of lust. “ah! want you— harder, mhm..”

“oh? you want it harder?” gojo smirks wickedly, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. “as you wish, my little slut.” with a dark chuckle, he suddenly grabs your hips in a bruising grip and starts to absolutely rail into you. the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as he pistons in and out of your tight hole at a breakneck pace. your whole body jolts with each violent thrust, your breasts swaying wildly beneath you.

“fuck, your ass feels incredible,” he groans, angling his hips to drill into your g-spot dead-on. “so hot and wet and tight... made to milk my cock dry.”

he leans over you, pressing his muscular chest against your back as he continues his ruthless assault. his teeth find your shoulder, biting down hard enough to leave marks. he leaves his tongue over the abused flesh, soothing the sting before moving higher to nip at your earlobe.

you wail in agonized bliss as gojo fucks into you like a man possessed, each savage thrust shaking you to your core. your pussy clenches greedily around his pistoning shaft, desperate to hold onto him as he ravages you.

“oh my god!” you keen shrilly, your screams growing louder and more frantic by the second. the wet squelch of your juices filling the air only adds to the filthy symphony of your coupling.

your nails scrabble uselessly at the table as gojo's teeth sink into your tender flesh, marking you as his. the sharp pain mixes deliciously with the mind-numbing pleasure, sending you hurtling towards the edge. “gonna cum, gojo, ’m cumming!”

at your words, gojo redoubles his efforts, slamming into you with abandon. “that's right, cum for me,” he commands, his voice thick with lust. “let me see just how much of a good girl you can be...”

his fingers curl around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp and arch your back further. the added stimulation pushes you over the brink, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave. your inner walls clench tightly around gojo's throbbing member, milking him for all he's worth.

your orgasm triggers his own release, his cock twitching inside you as he spills his hot seed deep within your womb. he grunts loudly, the sound mingling with your high-pitched whimpers and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

your entire being shudders violently as your orgasm rips through you, every nerve ending alight with electric pleasure. your vision blurs, colors bleeding together as you lose yourself completely to the sensations coursing through your body.

gojo's hand around your throat sends an extra jolt of excitement zinging straight to your clit, pushing you over the edge into a mind-bending peak. your pussy spasms uncontrollably, gripping his cock in a vice-like squeeze as you ride out the waves of your climax.

when gojo finally releases inside you, coating your insides with his scorching hot cum, it's almost too much to bear. your already sensitive nerves are overwhelmed by the sensation, leaving you a quivering, boneless mess.

the feeling of your tight walls pulsating around his cock, milking him for every drop, draws a guttural moan from gojo. he holds you firmly in place, refusing to let either of you move until every last bit of pleasure has been wrung out. his fingers tighten slightly on your throat but not enough to cut off your air supply. instead, it's another form of control, keeping you right where he wants you— helpless and utterly at his mercy.

as the aftershocks continue to rock through both bodies, gojo gently withdraws from your slickened ass, gently flipping you on your back and stepping away just enough so he can admire the sight of your flushed face and heaving chest.

you lay sprawled across the table, legs splayed wide and gojo's cum leaking out of your thoroughly used holes. your skin glistens with a sheen of sweat, hair sticking to your forehead in damp tendrils. you look absolutely debauched, and you know it.

gojo drinks in the sight of you, his gaze roaming hungrily over every inch of exposed flesh. “you're such a good girl,” he praises, voice low and rough. “i don't think i can get enough of you now i get a taste of you, y/n, looks like i just have to spend the rest of my life with you.”

the threat sends a thrill down your spine, even as a small part of you knows you should protest. but the thought of belonging to gojo fully, of being at his complete mercy... it's too exciting to resist.

gojo's words hang heavy in the air between you, the promise of a lifetime spent as his personal plaything sending a fresh rush of arousal through your veins. you know you should put up some kind of resistance, insist on maintaining some semblance of independence, but the idea of being owned so completely by someone as powerful and dominant as gojo is simply too tempting to pass up.

“great, now i'm stuck with you,” you manage to say breathlessly, trying to inject a note of teasing bravado into your tone despite the way your body trembles with need. your body was still trembling as you slowly pushed yourself up from the table, the heat of the moment still lingering in the air.

a dangerous smile spreads across gojo's face as he watches you struggle to sit up. he leans down, bracing one hand on the tabletop next to you, his gaze roaming over your flushed features, taking in every nuance of your expression.

“you say that like it's a bad thing,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “and we both know you don’t really mind being mine, princess. you love it, admit it.” he leans down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. “mine,” he whispers, his voice low and possessive.

as he pulls back, his eyes lock onto your face, seeking any hint of reluctance. but he finds none. your breathing is shaky, and your cheeks are flushed, and despite your feeble protest, your body betrays your true feelings. you know you're his, and he knows it too.

he straightens up, taking a step back to give you room to sit up fully. “don't worry,” he says, his tone almost reassuring. “i'll take care of you, princess. i always take care of what's mine.”

you glanced at gojo, who was now standing tall, watching you with that same smug, satisfied look. despite everything, there was a hint of softness in his eyes as he watched you regain your composure.

“at least help me clean up,” you muttered, still slightly breathless. your cheeks flushed as you stretched your hand towards him, fingers brushing the hem of your skirt to adjust it. “you made the mess, after all.”

gojo's lips curled up in a playful smirk at your request. “oh, princess,” he drawled, taking a step closer and closing the distance between you. “always demanding, aren't you?”

he leaned down, his face inches from yours as he gently pushed your hand away from your skirt. “don't worry, i’ll clean up,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry. “but i think i’ll take my time and enjoy the view first.”

“shut up, gojo,” you snapped, your voice sharp as you glared at him. “i’m mad at you for making a mess out of me when i was supposed to be having fun with my friends.”

gojo just chuckled, clearly unfazed by your frustration. he knelt down, picking up your discarded corset from the floor, his eyes still twinkling with amusement. “you always blame me for the fun stuff,” he teased, but his hands were already working, buttoning up your shirt first with a surprising tenderness.

as he helped you back into your corset, his fingers brushing your skin as he tightened the laces, you couldn’t help but huff in frustration. “because you always annoy me and i always blame you for everything, you better make this up to me,” you muttered under your breath.

gojo chuckled at your irritation, his hands still working to button up your shirt. “can’t help being a bit mischievous, princess,” he replied lightly. “it’s part of my charm.”

he finished buttoning up your shirt, leaving a few buttons undone, his gaze lingering on the exposed skin at your throat before moving on to your corset. his hands skimmed the lace and silk with a hint of reverence as he slowly laced you up.

“make it up to you?” he repeated, his voice low and playful. “i thought i just did, princess.”

you smacked his chest lightly, your frustration evident. “shut up, gojo,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes as you started scanning the floor for your missing thong. “where’s my thong?” you muttered under your breath, feeling the irritation bubble up again.

gojo, now pulling his button up shirt over his arm, glanced down with a smirk. “it’s probably somewhere around here,” he teased, watching you with amusement as you searched. “i think it flew off when you were, you know, too busy being ‘mad’ at me.”

as you shot him a glare, he chuckled softly, picking up his own clothes and tossing them on, clearly enjoying the aftermath of your little encounter. “here, princess,” he said, suddenly bending down and tossing the thong toward you, his smirk still lingering.

you caught the thong instinctively, feeling a fresh wave of irritation. gojo's casual demeanor only fueled your annoyance, but the way he was watching you, his gaze lingering on your body, was both infuriating and exciting.

you slipped the thong back on, fixing your skirt as you straightened up. your cheeks were flushed, and your breath was still coming in slightly labored gasps. you did your best to compose yourself, feeling the weight of his gaze on you like a physical touch. gojo had finished dressing himself and was now standing casually, leaning against the table as he observed you.

“all fixed up, princess,” he teased, his eyes roaming over your form. “although i have to say, i do enjoy the disheveled look on you.”

he pushed himself away from the table and sauntered towards you, his steps leisure yet deliberate. he stopped just in front of you, his body close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “you know, it's quite adorable when you try to be mad at me,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry.

you glared at him, still flushed with a mix of annoyance and lingering desire. “shut up, gojo,” you snapped, your voice laced with frustration. “and stop looking at me like that, you perv.”

gojo chuckled, not the least bit deterred by your glare. “can't help it, princess,” he replied, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “you're just too damn hot to ignore.”

he took a step closer, closing the gap between you so that his chest was almost pressed against yours. “and i see that you still haven‘t fully composed yourself,” he murmured, his eyes trailing over your flushed cheeks. “still a little flustered, are we?”

you narrowed your eyes at him, huffing in frustration. “shut up, gojo,” you muttered again, your voice firmer this time, but the hint of a pout on your lips betrayed you. “shut up and let’s just go already.”

gojo smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction, but he grabbed his mask and your bunny band without another word. he handed you the bunny band, but before you could take it, you looked at him with a softer, slightly sheepish expression. “hold me?” you asked, your voice a little quieter now.

gojo's smirk softened into a small smile as he heard your softer tone. he knew your irritation was fading, and what was left was your playful, more vulnerable side. he reached out and gently took hold of your waist, pulling you closer against him.

“of course, princess,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle. “i'll hold you. i'll always hold you.” he wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. he nuzzled his face against the top of your head, inhaling the sweet scent of your hair.

you leaned into gojo's embrace, your irritation completely gone now, replaced by a shy warmth. as you felt his arms tighten around you, a thought crossed your mind—one that made your cheeks flush slightly.

you looked up at him, remembering how he had recorded everything earlier. your voice came out quieter, almost hesitant. “gojo,” you murmured, biting your lip slightly, “about that video... can you send it to me?” a wave of shyness washed over you as you avoided his eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed for even asking.

gojo raised an eyebrow, surprised by your sudden request. he tried to keep his voice even as a small smile played on his lips. “you want that, princess?” he asked, a hint of incredulousness in his tone. “you want me to send you a video of us?”

he gently gripped your chin, tilting your face up so that you had to meet his gaze. his eyes searched your face, trying to read the expression in your eyes.

“uh-uh,” you murmur, slightly embarrassed for asking for a video— more likely a sex-tape— of you and him. gojo grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement and a hint of genuine affection. “princess, are you feeling a little kinky?” he teased. “asking for a video of us?”

he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “i don't mind sending it to you. i’m quite proud of my performance in it.”

you rolled your eyes at gojo’s teasing, a smirk tugging at your lips despite yourself. "don’t flatter yourself, gojo," you replied, your tone laced with playful sarcasm. "it’s not that impressive."

as the two of you walked out of the library, his arm still comfortably wrapped around your waist, you gave him a side glance. “i just want it for... research purposes,” you added with a mock-serious expression, unable to hide the mischievous glint in your eyes.

gojo's smirk widened at your response, his eyes glimmering with playful mischief. he chuckled and pulled you closer to his side, clearly enjoying the banter.

“research purposes, eh?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow in mock skepticism. “and what kind of research, pray tell, does a princess like you need that video for?” he leaned down, his voice dropping to a low, seductive tone. “or is it for... private viewing pleasure?”

you smirked up at him, clearly amused by his teasing. “oh, i’m going to sell it,” you said, your voice dripping with mock seriousness. “think of all the girls out there willing to pay for a glimpse of the great gojo in action. i could make a fortune.”

gojo let out a low chuckle, a mix of surprise and amusement. he tightened his arm around your waist, pulling you even closer against him.

“selling a video of me? princess, i'm both flattered and offended,” he teased, feigning hurt in his tone. his eyes sparkled as he continued, “but don't forget… there's two of us in that video. they’ll be paying to see you too.”

gojo’s grin widened as he guided you toward the parking spot, his arm still firmly around your waist. “let’s go to my place, princess,” he murmured, his tone carrying that familiar mix of teasing and suggestion. “we can discuss this little business venture of yours in private.”

he glanced down at you, his eyes glinting with mischief. “besides, i have a feeling you'd want to make sure the video’s... edited to your liking before you sell it.” he winked, clearly enjoying pushing your buttons as he led you toward his car.

gojo gives your ass a firm squeeze before stepping back, to open the door of his car for you, “we can see how our little video turned out. maybe we can even edit in some close-ups of that pretty face of yours while you're sucking me off...”

you feigned annoyance at his shamelessness, but you couldn't help the flush that spread across your cheeks at his words. you ducked into the passenger seat, trying to hide your flustered reaction.

“you're impossible, gojo,” you huffed, trying to maintain a tone of feigned indifference. “always so confident and shameless.” but even as you spoke, you knew that you were just as eager as him to get back to his place and see that video. you were just unwilling to admit it out loud.

TAGLIST :

@fairiesthrum @22marie16 @pe4rl-diver @meowingtatum @prettymoonlightsworld @sonotpattismith @leidypop @anthastudios @luminiso @blueemochii @rumi-rants @wakashudou @ameeeeeliie @reverrieee @iheartsuya @starlightglimmersworld

[reidswhre]

notes 4 you ; spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: fluff! best friends in love

You were gathering your things from your desk while wondering what you were going to have for dinner. You hadn’t left any food prepared, and honestly, you didn’t feel like cooking, but nothing that a food delivery couldn’t fix.

“Hi.” Spencer smiled at you from in front.

“Hey, you.” You smiled back while slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“Are you heading home?” He asked.

“Of course, I��m going home, where else would I go at this hour?” You teased him.

“Oh- I don’t know- I- well.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought maybe you could come to my place, I’m making pasta.”

“Your place? Oh God, sure! I’d love to.”

“Really?”

“Of course!”

You used to go to Spencer’s place often, and he to yours. You’d have dinner, watch a movie or two, and talk a lot. You spent all day together at work, but given the tragic cases you dealt with, seeing each other outside of work felt peaceful, a nice atmosphere that you both created.

You liked him a lot, and you were sure he liked you too. There were always moments when everything felt tense or you sensed something stronger than friendship between you, but neither of you ever acted on it.

“I missed it here,” you said as you entered Spencer’s apartment.

“Did you?” He asked as he watched you head straight to his bookshelf.

“Are you kidding? I love this place; it’s so cozy, so interesting, so lovely, so… you.”

“Do you love me?” He gave you a playful look as he set the groceries on the table for dinner.

“Of course, I do, silly.” You rolled your eyes and picked up the book on the coffee table. “This one’s new.”

“Yeah—actually, all those piled over there are new.” He pointed to a stack of about five books to your right.

“Oh, can I borrow this one when you're done?” you asked, grabbing one from the pile.

“You can take any of them, really.” He gave you that closed-lip smile.

“Wait, you’ve read all five already? You said they were new!”

“I read fast.”

“Of course you do.” You rolled your eyes again, smiling as you skimmed through the book.

“By the way! I finished reading that book you recommended, your favorite, remember?”

You felt a wave of happiness wash over you. “You’re kidding! I didn’t even know you bought it! How exciting! What did you think?”

“It was pretty good, though I think the dialogues in the book show some deficiencies in terms of plausibility and conversational dynamics. This homogeneity in the discourse negatively affects the characterization and pacing, creating a sense of stagnation in the dramatic development.”

You were left speechless, which made you laugh a little.

“What’s so funny?” He furrowed his brows.

“You just severely criticized my favorite book!”

“I didn’t criticize it severely!” He defended himself. “I thought it was good! It has memorable lines, and it’s very romantic. I just think the dialogue could’ve been better, that’s all.”

“Sure, everyone’s entitled to their opinion, even if yours is wrong,” you teased.

“Hey!” Spencer feigned offense.

You laughed, and Spencer chuckled a little too.

“You can keep that one too.”

“No, no, don’t worry. I have that book in every edition that exists.” You laughed. “It’s my favorite for a reason.”

“Yeah, but—I thought you might want this one.” Spencer walked over to the bookshelf in front of you and pulled out the book from a drawer.

The book was filled with sticky notes. You glanced at it and saw it was covered with annotations everywhere.

“I—well—I made notes while reading because—I don’t know—I wanted to give it to you. I thought you’d like to see how I was doing as I read it.” He looked a bit nervous.

You looked at him and then back at the book. You were so surprised that no words came out of your mouth, which only made Spencer more anxious.

“No—you don’t have to keep it—It wasn’t my intention to make you feel like you had to read it, I didn’t even ask if you wanted it, I’m really sorry!”

“You’re sorry?” You raised your eyebrows. “Sorry for giving me the best gift anyone’s ever given me?” You smiled broadly.

“What? You want it?” He sighed in relief.

“Are you kidding? This is incredible.” You threw your arms around him in a hug. “I love it! I can’t wait to see what you wrote.” You pulled away from the hug to skim through the book.

“No! Don’t do that!” He placed his hands over the book so you couldn’t read it. “Read it at home, okay?”

“Why!? I want to read it now.” You laughed and moved the book out of his reach.

“The thing is, I—you know—I wrote a lot…” He looked away.

You gave him a knowing look. “Of course, that was the idea, wasn’t it? I’m well aware,” you said teasingly.

“Sure! But… I didn’t just write what I thought about the book.” He looked at you. “I highlighted and underlined things that reminded me of you, and… I wrote you a few things. Just—read it later, okay?”

Suddenly, you felt a bit nervous, your stomach flipping. What did he mean by writing you a few things?

“Oh sure… yeah—sorry.” You closed the book and tucked it under your arm.

“It’s okay! Forget it.” He smiled sweetly. “Help me with the pasta, yeah?”

You smiled back. “What?” You pretended to be offended. “I came here to be treated like a princess, not to get my hands dirty!”

“Stop complaining!” He teased you, and you laughed.

You returned home around midnight, hung up your jacket, and left your keys on the table. Eagerly, you pulled the book out of your bag and sat down on the couch to take a look.

You saw some of his notes.

What’s this supposed to be? This guy’s an idiot. >:(

Oh, that was sweet! Extra points for him!

She’s funny, just like you.

you and me :) It was next to a paragraph describing a black cat and an orange one playing around.

I’m reading this on the plane, and you’re asleep i miss you :(

I seriously hate this guy, who raised him!?

You looked really cute today. You’re always cute.

There were countless more notes, all in his handwriting.

You had no intention of sleeping until you finished reading them all.

[ak319]

Yan Socialite Brother x reader x Yan?Hubby

YOUR LITTLE EZZY'S BACK! So I couldn't help but write more about him. I will also write a version with the reader's wife. Enjoy reading ♡ Ezra Headcanon

In the dark hours, the Alvarez estate was shrouded in a thick silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire that danced in the hearth. Shadows stretched across the grand, dimly lit room, adding to the air of peculiar mystery that seemed to cloak the entire estate. Ezra sat motionless, his gaze fixed on the flames that flickered with a restless energy, mirroring the turmoil within him. The news you had shared with him still echoed in his mind, fanning the fire of his emotions, making it burn hotter, fiercer.

"Amir?.." his eyes were fixed on your back as you scrummaged through the bookshelf. You replied back gently. "Yes, Amir. The boy who works on one of the farms."

So a slave huh?

And then you explained everything to Ezra, from how you saw Amir, appreciated his gentle nature, and were now thinking of bringing him here as your groom. Ezra’s rage simmered beneath the surface, though his fake smile and curious eyes never left your face. But your tone didn’t match the word "thinking", it clearly said, "I am bringing him as my groom." He was happy… happy for you. But on the other hand, he wasn’t happy for himself.

This was the day he had dreaded. For his own peace of mind, he sent one of his attendants, Rowan, to inquire about this so-called Amir. The report? Amir was a poor servant with three siblings and parents who also worked on the farm. Amir was the oldest. Hm. Poor, innocent, loyal, and not too bad-looking, though in Ezra's eyes, everyone pales in comparison to Alvarez's. Nobody can ever be good enough for you. He just didn't want his sister to marry a dirt-face. After all, their family has a certain dignity in society. There was something he relished in this situation, Amir’s meekness, bred by his lower status, was something Ezra could use and if his sister were to marry, it should be to someone who knows their place.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Amir couldn’t shake the memory of the way you approached him that day.

“M-my lady-”

“It’s okay, relax. Just came to greet you and see how the work is going.” His hand continued to glide through the horse’s mane, though his gaze, filled with shyness and respect, lingered on you. You loved that. “What’s your name, boy?”

“A-Amir…ma’am.” You asked him more questions, and with each one, his initial fear of you began to fade. Eventually, he even dared to ask some of his own. He didn’t realize that he had backed away to the fence, cornered by your every step forward.

“I don’t think a…” You gently removed a leaf from his silky hair. “A pretty thing like you belongs on a farm.” His quick breaths brushed your face before he turned away. Did you just compliment him?! How could you not? He was so unique with that snowy hair and those pale green eyes. “U-um, but I have to-w-work to earn-for-”

“What if I say, not anymore?”

On that very day, you boldly asked his parents for his hand in marriage, right there on the farm, while Amir stood paralyzed in disbelief. His parents, naturally, agreed without a moment's pause, and his heart raced as he caught your final glance over your shoulder before you rode off with your men. How could a humble servant like him ever be worthy of becoming your husband? The idea felt impossible, undeserved. But as the reality settled in, he came to see it not as a blessing but as a test---a daunting trial between love, loyalty, hate… and obsession.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

'Time to play some games' Ezra smirked in the mirror as he gave himself a once-over. "Nobody can outshine you Ezra or take your place, nobody."

The grand staircase of the mansion, lavishly adorned for his sister's wedding, became the stage for Ezra's entrance. As he descended, everyone’s eyes were drawn to him. His gaze landed on you seated beside Amir on the sofa, and his smirk widened at the sight of Amir’s expression. Those doe eyes that have seduced his sister were now filled with embarrassment, as they should be.

Amir was at a loss. His brother-in-law, dressed in an outfit nearly identical to his own--albeit more glamorous and in a different color--had just exposed Ezra's facade. All the sweet words and actions before the wedding had been an act. Ezra settled onto the cushion next to you, casually nibbling on some food from the table, savoring the revelation of his little game.

"Ezra, you should have rested," you said, your tone carrying a hint of concern. Amir was taken aback, noticing your relaxed demeanour. It seemed you hadn’t caught onto Ezra’s stunt. It wasn’t your fault, after all. Maybe you are too tired to notice or don't want to scold your brother, whom you cherish deeply, especially in front of guests—many of whom were now eyeing Ezra with a mix of admiration and curiosity. His display was a calculated reminder that he would always eclipse Amir. Ezra had even missed the official ceremony, claiming illness as his excuse and retreating to his room.

"Nonsense!. How could I have missed my own sister's wedding? And did you forget that I managed all these preparations?. I would never miss it."

'Oh, but you missed the vow ceremony, how convenient and now he's here to remind everyone how he managed all of this and such a good brother-in-law he is by being sweet to me and my family.'

"Do I look good, sister?"

"Of course you do. When have you ever looked bad?" You reached out to pat his head affectionately before pulling a small pouch from your pocket. "This is for you Ezra, a token of appreciation for your efforts, as tradition dictates."

Ezra’s eyes sparkled with delight as he accepted the pouch of gold. "It was nothing. Thank you so much. I just did my duty."

He got up soon to cater to guests including Amir's family probably to show off how humble he is.

The only thing keeping Amir sane and easing his worries was you. Your hand held his gently, and he felt comforted by the ring you put on his finger. He placed his other hand on yours, needing the reassurance that you were there for him.

‘As long as you’re here,’ he kept praying silently.

However, as days passed since the marriage, Ezra's facade toward his brother-in-law began to crumble in your absence. Amir couldn’t understand why Ezra, who had been nothing but nice to him, now seemed to act cold and distant.

The taunts, the disgusted glances, and the deliberate ignoring of Amir had become a painful routine. What troubled him the most was Ezra’s ability to put on a friendly front when you were around. He wondered how a person could even do that? Can he be this deceitful too? His parents always taught him to be kind and true to people. That is why he bared himself to you, he opened his heart to you and gave himself completely. By now he had come to terms with it that Ezra won't ever see him as part of the family much less as an equal. But he remained focused on making sure you were happy with him, that he never made you upset with him because that is what Ezra wants but with Amir's modest and docile nature, it was nearly impossible,

"You know, Amir, since my sister is away on a business trip, you might as well stay with your parents for a while." Amir looked up from his untouched breakfast, confusion and concern etched on his face.

"U-um... why?"

"Why?" Ezra's lips curled into a dismissive smirk. "Well, your duty is to her, and since she’s not here, you might as well go. It’s not like you’re doing anything important around here."

"But—"

"I’ll have the carriage prepared." And just like that he got up and left, Rowan tailing behind him. And so, Amir found himself spending days with his family. His spirits lifted somewhat in their comforting presence, but his thoughts were always clouded by how much he longed to be in your arms. However...

"You don’t just get up and leave like this. Did you even realize how badly this reflects on me? My spouse just vanished after a few days of marriage. I expected you to be waiting for me at the door, but instead, you were here." Your words felt like sharp needles piercing his heart, making him clutch the carriage’s cushion tighter. His mind was filled with images of Ezra welcoming you back, whispering deceitful tales of how he had left.

'He was bored.'

'He doesn’t like it here. I think he doesn't even want to make an effort to adjust.'

'He didn’t even bother to greet you. What kind of husband is he, sister?'

"(Y/N), I d-didn’t mean to leave. It’s just--" What could he say to avoid further anger? Should he blame Ezra? The thought of making excuses or casting blame only added to his distress.

"I don’t care. Next time, don’t leave like that. And if you feel the need to, ask me first. Got it? Also, you can just call your family to visit there. That’s your home now, you don’t have to keep coming back here." He nodded, biting his lip. 'As if your brother would ever let my family feel welcome there. I would never subject them to that mansion of thorns, to be insulted. That’s something I won’t tolerate.'

"Forgive me?" he asked softly, leaning closer to you. "Please, I missed you with every breath." A tired sigh and a gentle caress on his face were all he received, but even that was more than enough for him.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Time seemed to pass slowly for Amir, each day filled with torment and venomous words from Ezra. He hid his tears, letting them out in some corner of the mansion , so that when you returned, he could greet you with a smile. He didn’t know what to do. He didn't want to stress you by complaining about your brother or involving you in this petty game. He felt like he was going mad as he dwelled on his thoughts. The books offered some solace, but he wished his life were more like a fairytale.

“Well, I thought you should take care of the household budget now, but I think it’s too soon for you to handle this. There are a number of reasons for my distrust, which... I would prefer not to share.”

“It’s alright... I just joined the family, so I think it’s inappropriate for me to take on that responsibility. And brother Ezra is handling it well anyway.”

“Thank you for understanding.” You gently played with his hair as his head rested on your lap. “I love how understanding you are.” He melted under your compliment, the magical touch adding to his contentment.

“Anything for you, wife. You know better than me. Whatever decision you make, I’ll always accept it.” He kissed your finger, his heart swelling with happiness at the sight of the ring you wore. The ring his family had bought with whatever they could afford, and yet you wore it. You were the only one who hadn’t looked down on him because of his status. You even cared for his family, sending them provisions and gifts.

Actually, there was another person who hadn't looked down on Amir--your mother, Ms. Grace. She was a woman who preferred solitude, keeping herself busy with her hobbies after her husband's death. Whenever Amir felt alone, he made sure to check on her, offering company and conversation.

“You’re a really good boy. My daughter found a gem.” Amir smiled, but his eyes told a different story. They were seated in Grace’s study, having tea. “Something troubles you, and I know what it is. It’s Ezra, isn’t it?” Damn it, is it that obvious?

“N-no, no, he’s nice. I’m just--”

“Oh, save it. He’s my son, I can smell his shenanigans from miles away. And that daughter of mine—utterly stupid!. She’s the reason he’s like this. Either she’s too aloof or just chooses to ignore it.”

“No, no! She has a lot on her plate. I just don’t want to burden her with such petty problems. She brought me here so that she could find peace, not for me to disrupt it.” Grace’s heart swelled with pity and love at his words. “You are my son too, okay? And I’m just trying to help you understand that you’re the only one who can help yourself.”

“W-what does that mean?”

"It means you have to be strong. You’re not some piece of garbage my daughter picked up. She brought you here, gave you a title, and bestowed you with respect--so honor it, and don’t let anyone take it away just because they think you don’t deserve it. My in-laws were a piece of work too. May their souls rest in peace, but I went through some tough times with them. What kept me firm was my husband. Do you get my point?"

Her in-laws--oh, what a tragedy that befell them on that ferry. The whole town was shaken. Perhaps it was their karma.

“Yes.”

"You love her, right?" His head snapped up to meet her eyes. Was that even a question?

"More than anything! Always."

"Then don’t beat yourself up like this. Just do your part and leave the rest to God. Everything will be alright one day." Amir nodded and took a sip of his remaining tea, feeling a bit lighter and more hopeful. She was right. Being depressed and crying wouldn’t get him anywhere. Worse, you might even leave him because of his sulky behavior. His fingers tightened around the saucer.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"Sir Ezra has called for you," Rowan informed him as he was putting on his shoes. The two of you were getting ready for dinner. "Me?"

"Yes, you, sir. In his room."

"I'll be there." He glanced at you as you were fastening your coat. "Yeah, go ahead, I'll be waiting downstairs." He nodded and left, but not before helping you with your sleeve buttons and giving you a quick peck.

"You called for me?" His smooth voice reverberated in the quiet room, his eyes finding Ezra nestled in his giant bed.

"Oh yes, you two are going out, right? Could you tell (Y/N) to bring back those pastries that I love?" Something felt off.

Amir swallowed the uneasiness and glanced between Ezra and Rowan. "Sure. Anything else?"

"No. That would be all, thank you."

As always, you had chosen a high-end restaurant, and your presence and attention made him forget all his worries. This was what he cherished the most, his time with you. Your care, your love. He felt, no, believed that he was the luckiest man alive. Contrary to Grace's words, you did pick him from the trash and made him your treasure.

When you both entered the mansion hand in hand, your smile immediately faded into a worried frown.

"EZRA!" Amir barely had time to react as he saw you rush up the stairs where Ezra was now slumped against the railing. The bag of pastries had been thrown from your hands and lay at his feet.

"ROWAN! CALL THE DOCTOR! What happened, Ezra?!"

"Di-did you bring the med...?" Ezra's one hand gripped your collar as the other his stomach.

"What medicine?!"

"The one I asked for..." Ezra's weary, hollow gaze turned to Amir, sending a chill through his very core. "Rowan, help me carry him." You shot a sharp glance over your shoulder at Amir as you hurried up the stairs.

'He did it again... God,' Thought Amir as he bent down to collect the crumbles scattered on the carpet. They mirrored his own shattered emotions and the fractured state of his new life.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"I swear he asked for pastries... you believe me, don't you!? Please!"

"I said, let it go. Just shut up." You settled onto the bed, sighing as you saw him standing in the corner, emotionless.

"Amir, come here. There is something you should know." Your tone was soft, almost apologetic.

He sat beside the bed, his eyes cast on the floor. "Listen, I feel like you both don't get along, but that needs to change, okay? He is my brother, and you are my husband. Both of you are important to me. And I wanted to tell you that soon after having a talk with him, I will ask Mother to find a suitable bride for him. This family needs an heir."

Wait...

"Heir?"

"Yes, an heir. Even though, as you know, I'm not a fan of children in any shape or form, the line needs to continue. That is Ezra's duty, so he is essential to me. This whole tedious business of having children...ugh." You rubbed your forehead in frustration. "Whatever. But we will also treat them like our own, okay?" You loathed the idea of carrying a child yourself, and Amir was just as opposed to the thought of you experiencing any discomfort. The thought of losing you over that made him shiver. The business was more important to you than anything, and you made that very clear before marriage. Your word was law. Still, he couldn’t help but ask.

"C-can't we both... adopt, though?"

"That's for another day and why adopt now when we can have our own? Ezra has to marry someday. It’s completely fair. He needs to grow up now."

Your tone and earlier outburst made him nod frantically, but a new emotion stirred within him , something close to amusement. Oh, how will Ezra react when you make him marry someone. Maybe it’s for the best, 'At least he’ll get off my back, hopefully.'

Yet, he also felt pity for the woman who would be bound to that two-faced bastard. Is your only goal to use your brother as a breeder? That’s even more amusing.

As you lay down, he went to the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. If Ezra were to provide you with a child one day, wouldn’t that make him more honorable in your eyes?

'No, after today’s stunt, I’ve had enough of this.'

You want a child, an heir--that’s clear, that's fine. But he won’t let Ezra exploit this situation.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"I--I mean--" Ezra stammered, his usual confidence wavering as he tried to find the right words.

You held his face in your hands, your grip firm yet gentle, your eyes searching his. "It's not like I am asking for something outrageous here," you said, your tone soft but laced with expectation.

Ezra's eyes darted away for a moment, then back to you. "I get you, but isn’t it too soon? I mean-"

"You're of age," you cut him off, your tone now tinged with a bit of annoyance. "You’ve never rejected anything I’ve asked of you before, and now you are?"

"NO! No, absolutely not, sister!" Ezra's voice was a mix of desperation and determination. "How can you even think that? I will do it. I will." Inside, though, his mind rebelled. It’s not the marriage that Ezra hates, it’s the idea of spending his life with some annoying woman. What if she turns out to be a snake too?! Oh, he won't forgive that, ever. His eyes betrayed a flicker of dread before he quickly masked it with a forced smile.

"Great, then. Mother will surely find the most amazing match for you," you said with finality, turning to leave. "Just make sure to tell her what your type is. Remember, she shouldn’t just be a good wife but a perfect mother for my heir too."

Without another word, you exited the room, leaving Ezra alone with his spiraling thoughts. Did Amir put this idea in your head? Sometimes, Ezra just wanted to kill that son of a-

"Deep breaths, Ezra, deep breaths," he muttered to himself, trying to quell the surge of frustration. Yeah, his sister wouldn’t be happy if her husband was torn to pieces. 'This is your life now', seeing Amir’s face in this mansion every single day, and soon enough, a wife’s too. Ugh! He threw a vase at the wall in a fit of irritation. He won't ever be in peace until you divorce Amir.

He couldn’t afford to dwell on that for now. He had to carry out your order, even if he despised the thought of dealing with an annoying woman and whining babies. You had given him a task, a job, and he couldn’t let you down. He would never let you down.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Ezra's bride, Jean Aston, had been chosen--an arrangement made with a family friend. While Ezra couldn't have cared less about the choice, he at least appreciated that Jean stood out with her striking red hair and green eyes. His wife needed to be of some caliber, though in his view, only one person could be the true beauty of the marriage, and that person was unquestionably him. However, he also acknowledged the importance of passing on good genes to the heir you desired.

What he hadn’t expected was Jean’s bubbly demeanor. Wasn't she the one who had been too shy to meet him before the wedding?

"Can you be quiet? Can you be a bit more demure?" Ezra snapped, his patience wearing thin as she chattered incessantly, sitting beside him after their vows. "Look at me--am I being so chattery? Bride and groom are supposed to be graceful, woman."

Jean’s expression soured beneath her veil. "Wow, I was just trying to make small talk. I’ve been quiet since our engagement, so I’m going to talk now that we’re married. Also when is the food going to served?I am starving, how can-"

'God, just let this ceremony end already.'

Meanwhile, in the far corner of the room, Amir sighed, silently wishing Jean the best. Poor girl didn’t know what she was in for. His mind wandered back to his own wedding, the memory leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. It was hard not to compare the two experiences and feel a twinge of sympathy for her. At least you are way better than Ezra. A lot...no, perfect in his eyes. Always.

Once they retreated to their room, Ezra lifted Jean's veil with a cold, expressionless face, cutting her off before she could utter a word.

"There are some things you need to engrain in that skull of yours. First, always show respect for my sister. Always. You know that, don’t you? Secondly, try talking less and listening more."

"Got it! Now, where’s my wedding gift?" Jean’s cheerful interruption made Ezra’s jaw tighten, but he quickly masked his irritation with a smooth composure.

"No, you tell me first--who advised you to wear a harvest gold veil with such questionable embroidery? Huh? Such a poor fashion choice. I’ve explicitly told your family that gold is my color, I wear it. I don’t want to see you in it again." His fingers traced the material with a disdainful touch. "This abomination definitely needs fixing ." Though the veil was actually quite pretty, he couldn’t accept the fact that she looked good in it-- perhaps more than he did which is a big no.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Months later, the mansion, once quiet and dull, now echoed with the cries of a baby boy whom you named, Joseph. Ezra handed you the baby first which you were hesitant to hold but did anyway, after all you asked for this. It only lasted for a few minutes before he dozed off in Jean's arms.

"Jean," you said, gently patting her head. She looked up at you with a mix of nervousness and curiosity, her eyes brightening with anticipation. You took the papers from Amir and handed them to her. "Here's a gift. A plot, in your name and another in dear Joseph's. You’ve earned it."

Jean’s eyes widened with surprise and gratitude. "Y-you didn’t have to, (Y/N)-"

"Jean," Ezra scolded gently, his tone surprising you. It seemed that your brother had softened a bit since Joseph’s birth.

"Don’t refuse (Y/N)'s gift. Accept it," he added. Jean nodded, her shyness evident, but her gratitude clear as she met your gaze. "Thank you, (Y/N)."

"Good, now rest. The nanny will arrive soon," you instructed, leaving with Amir in tow. Ezra shot a disapproving look at Amir as they exited.

"Don’t be rude to Brother Amir like that," Jean reprimanded.

"It’s none of your concern. Stop being his defender, anyway. Focus on the child, his upbringing must be perfect. And take care of yourself too--I don’t want you fainting while feeding him." With that, Ezra stormed out. Jean sighed, finding him as unpredictable as ever--hot one moment, cold the next.

The tragedy that struck when Joseph was just six months old was unexpected. The poor child fell gravely ill, and even the doctors couldn't pinpoint what was wrong with his stomach. But by some blessing, everyone's prayers were answered when Amir's remedy worked, one his mother used to give when they were sick as children and Joseph was saved. Had it been a moment later, who knows what could have happened. Even though Ezra didn't bother to thank Amir, it didn’t matter. Amir did it for you, for your child.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"You know, I think it's been a while since I married you," you murmured, lost in thought.

Amir looked up from his book and chuckled, "Oh, you realized it now? I think it's been more than a while, my dearest."

"I know, I know." You now stood where he was seated, gently caressing his cheek. "I think it's time you start doing your duty here." You handed him the seal, "You're in charge of the household's budget now." Amir's eyes widened in surprise. "B-but brother Ezra--"

"Shush," you interrupted. "I decide how things are run here. And I’m giving you this responsibility. Don’t disappoint me."

He nodded, a grateful smile spreading across his face as he kissed your knuckles. "Never, I won’t ever dream of it."

From within, his heart was bursting with happiness. At last, he had something--something he wanted, something he could use as leverage against Ezra. His plan had worked flawlessly. His hidden knowledge of botany had made it all possible; plants to make poison, plants to make antidote. A soft giggle escaped him and so did some tears, as you left the room, the seal twirling between his fingers.

Deep inside, he couldn’t ignore the guilt gnawing at him as he saw the pain etched on everyone’s faces over Joseph. His own tears stung with remorse, but he believed it was a good plan--a necessary one to win your trust, your love. He hadn’t wanted to be so heartless, to poison his own child, but he felt he had no choice. Being Ezra’s doormat for so long had worn him down. And for once, watching Ezra in distress was so worth it. Amir couldn’t help but relish every moment.

(AN: OmG, Amir really turned dark, the poor innocent boi. Look how Ezra massacred my boy)

[lacroixqueen]

a little bit possessive (deadpool x reader) he gets jealous bc of your wolvie keychain

Summary: deadpool loves when you wear his merch. he gets possessive when he sees a wolverine keychain on your bag

Pairing: deadpool x fem!reader

Word Count: 941, very short one-shot

Tags: fluff, jealousy, possessiveness, yandere, teasing, banter

Wade liked it when you wore his merch. 

Like that big, oversized t-shirt you sometimes wore to lounge around on the couch and watch TV. It had his name and face plastered all over it. 

Or the mini keychain you had of him hung around your lanyard.  

And that little mini Deadpool action figure you tucked into the corner of your bookshelf, watching over you as you slept.

He even loved it when you incorporated subtle hints of him into your everyday wardrobe, like a red mini skirt or a black spiked choker. 

It made him feel like you belonged to him. Like he owned you. 

Until he saw you one day walking casually around the mall with a… was that a Wolverine charm dangling on your purse?

He followed closely behind you as you walked toward a nearby boba store, slightly annoyed by how loudly your heels clacked against the vinyl floor. But he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t staring at your ass in those booty shorts the entire time. Or your little waist in that ridiculous crop top..

Before you could turn in, he yanked you by that stupid Wolverine charm, pulling your purse and entire body towards him. 

You gasped, almost stumbling over before instinctively grabbing his arm, steadying yourself and catching your breath. 

“Wade?!” you cried, looking up into the vapid white ellipses that stared blankly at you. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Who, me?” he asked with a fake ignorance, letting go of the Wolvie charm, causing you to stumble back a few steps. “Oh, I was just strolling around the neighborhood in search of a honey brown sugar milk tea when I just so happened to run into something even sweeter instead! It’s not like I have been following you intensely for the past couple of hours or anything. That would be extremely creepy and not something a good ally would do.”

“Uh huh,” you said, folding your arms across your chest. “And what exactly do you want today?”

“Baby, you’re being so cold!” he whined, his fingertip instinctively twirling around a lock of your hair. “I just wanted to check in, see how life has been treating ya, that’s all. Why are you so suspicious all of a sudden?”

“You never just ‘check in’, Wade,” you countered, unconvinced. “You are always looking for something.”

“Well, now that my cover has been blown,” the assassin muttered as he snatched the Wolverine keychain again, yanking you even closer to him. “What the fuck is this?”

“You mean my Logan charm?” you said, grabbing it out of his hand. “Yeah, what about it?”

A flash of anger jolted through him the moment he heard you say ‘my’ and some other guy’s name in the same sentence. 

“Your Logan charm?” he repeated, holding his stance. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I went to an arcade with friends and won it from a game,” you replied. “And also, I don’t have to explain anything to you. It’s none of your business.”

“Well why did you pick a Wolvie charm and not a me charm?” he pried, voice darkening as his hand rested on the curve of your waist. “I thought I was your favorite, Y/N.”

“Um, no you aren’t,” you snapped back, a blush slowly creeping over your cheeks as you felt him hold you so abruptly and so automatically. “I like lots of different heroes and lots of different characters, you’re just one of them.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

“Then you probably wouldn’t mind if I did this,” he teased, unlatching the Wolverine charm from your purse strap and holding it over your head. “I’ll just take this, it’s all mine now thank you very much. Not that you would mind, of course. Since you have soooo many different heroes, right?”

“Hey!” you exclaimed, standing up on your tippy toes and trying to reach as he dangled it over your head like a ball of yarn to a helpless kitten. “Give it back Wade, it’s mine!”

“Not until you admit it,” he smirked, taking a few steps back as you jumped up in an attempt to retrieve the charm. 

“Admit what?” you cried, quite exasperated at this point. 

“That I’m your favorite,” he said, smiling to himself since he knew he had already won.

“Fine, you’re my favorite,” you conceded with a twinge of sarcasm, extending your hand out. “Now can you please give it back.”

“Uh uh, I want you to say it with feeling,” he urged, trying to hold back his own laughter. “Like you actually mean it.”

“Okay, you’re my favorite Wade,” you capitulated. “Now can you hand him over?”

“Wait, really?!” he yelped out with glee. “You really mean that?”

“Yes, Wade,” you sighed. 

“Like, you think it’s super sexy?” he pushed, dropping the Wolvie keychain back into your hand. “When I stabby stabby the bad guys? And baby knife ‘em in the neck? And shoot people in the face? That turns you on, right? Right?”

“Yes, Wade, it gets me so hot,” you said, rolling your eyes as you re-attached the Logan charm to your bag. “Now can you please leave me alone now?”

“Alright, but only if you promise to throw that thing away when you get home,” he bargained, ruffling up your hair into a tousled mess. “Okay, sweetheart?”

“Wade!” you yelped, but at the same time trying to stifle a giggle. You loved and hated when he was so possessive of you. But it also reminded you why you fell so hard for him in the first place.

[chlorinecake]

am in love w ur work<3 can u do an enha x reader ff, where they're dating a very feminine y/n who's also insecure? yk like them comforting y/n etc etc?

「 𓍯𓂃 A 𝒢UIDE TO OVERCOMING YOUR INSECURITIES 」

──── 🪽 𓂃 𓈒 step one: date 1 / 7 members of 엔하이픈

🪞 ( . . path to bookshelf ◍ ) 𓄼 be the best version of you .ᐟ g𝓮nre. fluff, comfort, est. dating, fem.r ﹙ 🧺 . . . ﹚. 美しさ skinship & kisses 350 𝒘𝗈𝗋𝖽s each ✩ ✩ ✩

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 for my melanated queens; “God, I look terrible in this picture,” you sighed miserably at the couple photo before you, zooming in closer on your screen to get a better look. “I'm literally lost in the background…”

“Let me see,” your boyfriend offered, bracing himself behind you as he peered over your shoulder. “Baby… you look beautiful here, what’re you talking about?” He practically chuckled, somewhat humored that you thought the picture was bad when it was clearly fine.

“I’m talking about my complexion,” you sighed, shutting off your phone out of frustration, “Maybe we should only go on dates when it’s sunny outside so I don’t look like a shadow next to you by time we take a picture…” That's when Heeseung felt his heart drop at your words, pouty lips partingas he asked, “Why would you say such a thing, ____? I love how healthy your complexion looks…”

“I know, but—”

“No buts,” he interrupted, walking from behind you and guiding your chin towards his. “Did someone say something to make you feel this way, love?” You struggled to meet his sincere doe eyes as your own weak ones were on the verge of tears.

With a crack in your voice, you finally spoke, “No, Heeseung… I’ve always felt this way, I just never said anything til now…”

“And are those insecurities motivated by your own standards or by what society has poisoned you to believe?”

You got quiet at his question, knowing deep down that you never had an issue with your skin color and that it was something the world had made you feel...

“Look at your beautiful hands in mine,” he continued, shattering your inner thoughts as he drew your attention to his hands holding yours. “Please don’t think your skin color is something we need to work around… especially not for a silly picture…”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling your stomach flutter as he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a loving kiss to your wrist. “So,” you started in a soft voice, his gentle eyes looking back up at you, “can I at least delete the picture then?”

“Fine,” Heeseung smiled through a complying breath, wiping the moisture from the corner of your eye with his thumb, “but only because I’m planning a date for us to take more photos later…”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 for the frequent bad hair days; “Gosh, this is why I need to go bald one day,” you sulked, tossing your hairbrush to the ground in a fit of exhaustion, “otherwise, I'll never be able to make my hair look right...”

“It looks pretty to me, baby,” Jay smiled upon meeting you in the bathroom, the frustrated clatter of your hair products having caught his attention. “What style are you going for anyways?” Your boyfriend hugged you from behind, placing a tender kiss to the crown of your head.

Reaching for your phone that sat on the bathroom vanity, you showed it to Jay. “Here’s the reference picture,” you sighed, feeling yourself calm down slightly as he held you in his arms, “I just have so many fly-aways today that the gel won’t even hold them in place...”

Jay's eyes scanned your reflection in the mirror, comparing it back and forth to the reference photo, “Easy fix, princess. We’ll just have to buy better products.”

“But it’s not just that… my split ends—”

“Then I’ll schedule you an appointment at the salon today…”

Your shoulders fell at your boyfriend's words. You knew he was only trying to make things better, but you still felt insecure. “Hey, look at me ____,” he whispered, voice light as a feather as he caressed your side, “my girl always deserves the best... especially if it’ll make her feel better about herself… got it?”

A smile spread across your face as Jay's fingers playfully tickled your waist.

In reality, no, you couldn’t get your hair right every time, but the hair you had suited you best, and simply required a little more tender love and care…

“Sooo, no salon date today?” He asked, watching your features.

You scoffed at his question, “No, we’re definitely still going… I’ll just make sure to embrace my natural hair this time.”

“And as you should, baby,” Jay smirked, kissing you one last time before his hands left your side, “I’ll go get the car keys...”

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 for the curvy girls; “Whatchya lookin' for?” Jake asked from the bed, watching as you searched through your shared drawers for anything big enough to swamp your entire body. “I’m too big for all of my clothes now, so I need to find something that's large but still cute...”

“Oh...” your boyfriend's voice trailed off as he got out of bed to meet you on the floor. “That’s why I always let you wear my hoodies, baby. Here,” he offered, pulling the white hoodie over his head and revealing a bit of his toned stomach before he shimmyied the oversized hoodie over your head. “So... can I cuddle with my adorable girlfriend all day like we planned now?”

You blushed slightly at his compliment, taking Jake's hand in yours as he helped you up from the ground, “Yes, but only if you promise not to put your hands on my stomach like you usually do...”

His eyes widened at your odd request, “I thought you liked it when I cuddled your tummy?”

He pulled you against his chest, but the physical contact only made you squirm with discomfort, “Please don’t call it that, baby…” The words left your mouth with such pain, his heart sinking at the sad look that washed over your features…

“I don’t get it ____, what’s going on?” Your boyfriend pressed with concern, releasing you from his hold to simply hold your hands.

“It's not like you'd understand where I’m coming from anyways...”

He frowned at your words, just as you watched with weak eyes while he pulled out a top from your drawer, holding it before your eyes. “You see this? You’re not too big for your clothes, but your clothes are too small for you…”

“Yea, but I used to be able to fit all of those…” You sulked in defense.

“And your body is just going through a normal change and has granted you with gorgeous curves… all we have to do now is accommodate for them..”

You thought on his words for a moment, a feeling of guilt washing over you after you realized you'd snapped on him earlier when he was only trying to help.

He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead, pulling you back into his warmth before whispering, “Please, be more kind to your body, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded with a sniffle, tightening your arms around him.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 for the giggles often hidden behind one’s palm; You and Sunghoon were sitting on the couch in your shared apartment living room, legs intertwined in a string of flesh like always as and it was your turn to laugh when your boyfriend retold one of the craziest stories from his prior days as an Italian restaurant waiter.

“And the guy had such a nerve to order 150 bucks worth of steak to then leave a measly fifty cent tip…” his voice trailed off, smiling to himself as he watched you struggle to maintain your laughter, a shy hand flying to cover your mouth.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said while giggling, cheeks hurting a bit from trying to hold back your emotions, “you can continue…”

He looked at you with confusion, his thick, dark brows screwing in the center of his face, “Wait… why’re you apologizing for laughing, baby?”

“Oh…I…” you started, startled by his question, “I guess… I just don’t like hearing my laugh sometimes?… plus it makes my face scrunch up and look all weird when I smile…”

“Stop, your laugh is gorgeous and so is your smile, what’re you talking about?” He scoffed, leaning back against the arm of the couch and crossing his arms.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend,” you sighed, untangling your legs from his and bring your knees to your chest.

“Sure, but that’s only part of the reason,” Sunghoon corrected, readjusting himself on the couch so he could be closer to you as he spoke, “it’s true, y’know?” He said before tickling your ankle, making you smile once again, “I bet that makes you feel better already, doesn’t it?”

You looked down before meeting his sincere gaze, feeling your heart flutter in your chest as he squished your face together with his hand.

“Yes… it does,” you giggled through the pouty lips his fingers forced you to make, making him chuckle a bit to himself before leaning in to peck your forehead first, then your nose, before finally, your lips…

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 for the spots makeup can't conceal; “Ugh,” you groaned with frustration, letting out a sigh as you aggressively wiped at your face with a makeup wipe, “this foundation is supposed to be full coverage!... God, now I'm gonna have to leave the house looking like a complete troll...”

“Excuse me?” Sunoo asked from beside you while adjusting his tie, a glint of amusement in his hazel eyes despite the concerned nature of his voice.

“I don't mean to be dramatic, but I swear the mirror hates me...” You exclaimed, tossing the dirty makeup wipe in the trash can while internally dreading the fact that you were having a terrible hormonal breakout today.

Sunoo's delicate hands left his neck tie to grab the package of wipes and pull out a few for you.

“The mirror has no feelings, sweetie... only you do,” your boyfriend chuckled at the pouty look on your face, guiding your head upward as he gently wiped away the remaining smears of makeup from your skin.

“Besides, you don't need to wear all this stuff anyway,” he whispered this time, the most loving look in his eyes as he caressed your cheek, “you're naturally gorgeous to me...”

He let his thumb graze over your lower lip before leaning down a little further from where he stood, pressing a tender kiss to your plush lips.

“You're lucky you didn't turn into a frog after doing that,” you giggled, playfully smacking his shoulder as you both noticed the pink hue rising to your cheeks... a hue that would've otherwise been covered by makeup.

Smiling at your words, he handed you a bar of soap and a towel, “I'm glad we don't have time for you to contour or conceal anything, so lets get the rest of this stuff off your face so we don't end up late for our date...”

You took the soap in your palms, lathering it together under the running faucet water as a new feeling arose in your chest upon looking at yourself in the mirror. No, you didn't have perfect skin, but you were still beautiful and loved, which in this moment, was all that mattered.

“Thank you, Sunny,” you said, massaging the soap into your face as he walked away from you, “I'll be out in a minute...”

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 for the hairy girls; “Shit,” you cursed under your breath while rummaging through your things. “What’s wrong, baby?” Jungwon asked, approaching you from behind with a smile on his face.

“I can’t find my razor,” you stated plainly, not even meeting his eyes as you closed the suitcase you were just searching... “Oh,” he started, cat-like eyes rounding slightly, “you can always use my razor if you want to for now then…”

“Please, I’d need like three of your razors to shave my arms properly,” you huffed, stepping out of the closet and walking toward the window, “why’d I have to be born like this?”

“Baby… don’t say that, body hair is completely normal…”

You caught a glimpse of your unibrow in the bedroom window, turning away with frustration as your sad eyes met his, “So then why doesn’t it feel normal?”

“Because, sweetie… you haven’t embraced it yet,” he continued, taking your hands in his before drawing a feather-light line from your wrist to your elbow, “your arms look fine, okay? And if anyone doesn’t agree with that, they can take it up with my taekwondo skills…”

You smiled cheekily at his words, “So… I guess that means I’m getting kicked first then, right?”

“Never,” he chuckled, pulling you closer to him, “but… I’ll be more than willing to give you a lil kissy kiss instead…”

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you felt Jungwon snuggle his face into the crook of your neck, peppering kiss after kiss along the exposed skin. “Yang Jungwon, I command you to stop this madness right now!” You giggled playfully, stomach already hurting a bit from how much his tickly lips made you laugh…

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 for humble members of the itty bitty titty committee; It was just like any other ordinary night you'd spend with Riki. You two were cuddled up on the couch, sharing a bag of snacks as you browsed through the anime section on Netflix. Y’all had already binge watched just about every single series worth your time, but now, you found yourselves watching any and every trailer in search for your next big obsession.

You watched as your boyfriend flipped through the anime section with the remote in his hand, nothing but ample bosomed female characters flashing before your eyes.

Yes, those sorts of visuals were completely normal in anime, and yes, you and Niki usually loved simping over the provocatively animated characters together...

However, this time when he got to talking, it only made you feel insecure about yourself as you stared down at your own seemingly feeble chest, a tiny pout rising to your face.

“Riki,” you asked shyly while the trailer kept playing, “do you think my boobs are too small?”

He almost immediately whipped his head to face you, “What?”

“N-nothing…” you lied, looking back at the TV as if nothing happened.

That's when your boyfriend paused the show, “No, you definitely said something, ____,” he corrected, putting the remote down and letting his hand find your knee to comfort you.

You let out a sigh, resting your hand over his while looking into his eyes this time, “Would you like me better if I had bigger boobs?… be honest…”

“You're asking me this because of all the busty anime chicks we just saw, aren't you?” he asked back, which only made you sulk even more.

“I know, it's stupid but-”

“No, it's a normal feeling to have, ____... but trust me, your chest is the perfect size, babe... they're like... dainty little cherries, y’know?...”

Even though you knew he was only trying to cheer you up, you couldn’t help but side eye him in his moment. “Wowww, how romantic of you, Nishimura,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

“Whatever, I know you like it when I compare you to foods... especially when I call you jellybean,” he smiled, right before smothering your cheek with the biggest kiss he could muster as you giggled beneath him, knowing that somewhere deep down in your heart, he was 100% right...

tysm for reading this quick lil fic !! ✗⚬ﾒ𝟶 a/n ℓօⓥe always ⋆⋆⋆ and feel free to check out my masterlist for more !!

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 💌 ) @squoxle @nikisdubblchococake @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @addictedtohobi @microwvdstrawb3rri3s

[reiderwriter]

Wished Away Entire Lifetimes

Chapter 6 of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: Living with Spencer - even if it is because some psycho is trying to murder you - means learning more about him. You just hope that the reverse isn't also true as you keep your cards as close to your chest as possible.

Warnings: No smut, suggestive content, both reader and Spencer are horny as fuck the entire time, spoilers for Marley and Me, mention of a pet death in the aforementioned movie.

A/N: At this point, I have to admit to the audience that the plot has somewhat changed from my original intention, but I still have a solid goal in mind, so WHO CARES!!! Domestic Spencer! Dom can mean more than one thing, Amen.

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Spencer's apartment was exactly as you remembered it, but this time around, it felt different. 

You quietly walked in and sat down on the sofa, trying not to be so obvious in your glances towards the bookshelf, trying to see if your message was still intact. 

“The kitchen's just through here, my bedroom, study,” he said pointing to each doorway, introducing you to a place you already had ingrained in your mind as the site of your biggest surprise. 

You nodded along awkwardly and shifted the bag of spare clothes and toiletries you'd picked up from your apartment on the way there between your hands. 

The shelves were still in order and, based on the updated collection of dust sprinkled about the place, hadn't even been perused in a while. You pouted a little, thinking about how you'd have to reluctantly forgive him for not messaging you. If he hadn't seen the message, then you supposed he was telling the truth about being busy. 

More of you wanted to wallow in your pettiness, to wait until he noticed himself that you were expecting. You did wonder how long it would take him. He was observant. You'd admitted that to himself when he'd first started mentioning case details and inferences months before in the office, but it seemed like people weren't hit forte. 

You were sure he could statistically tell you how big your baby was given the amount of weeks pregnant you were (the size of a plum, according to a Google search the night before) but you didn't think he'd be able to notice that you specifically were carrying said baby. 

It was, though, only a matter of time. 

“Y/N? Did you hear me?” He asked, staring at you with his brow furrowed, his tie slightly looser than it had been a few moments earlier. 

Now you were the thoughtless one. Your gaze raked down from his face to the loosened tie, the top buttons undone, the flash of skin at his neck as he swallowed lightly, obviously not as effected by your gaze as you were by his. 

“Yes,” you replied, letting your mind wander off to one of the two couched he'd fucked you on. 

“Y/N, you're not listening,” he said again, slightly irritated now. Somehow  that turned you on more. 

“Yes, I am.”

“What did I say then?” 

“I said I was listening, not that I cared.” 

He closed his eyes in a sigh before stepping closer to you and grabbing your bag in his hand. You quickly snatched it back and pulled it to yourself. 

You hadn't exactly packed much, but in your rush out of the door, hormones or something maternal had grabbed a baby grow and a teddy bear, and you knew the combination would cause questions you didn't have the patience to answer just then. 

“Y/N,” he moaned, signalling how tired he was with your attitude. You wanted to calm down and just apologise, but the part of you that had jumped at the sight of his bare skin was now itching for a physical fight. 

Emphasis, hopefully, on the physical part. 

“I'd rather you didn't go through my things, Spencer,” you said, throwing the bag back over your shoulder. 

“And I'd rather you listened to me instead of glaring at me, but here we are.”

Your eyes narrowed on him as you found yourself pitching forward, head tipping back as his hand caught the top of the strap and slowly pushed it down your arm. 

“There, now, let me show you the bed.” 

“Bed?” 

“You really weren't listening?”

“I tend to drown you out these days, I fear its a trauma response.” 

He scoffed and pressed a hand to the base of your spine, inching you forward as he held your bag for you. 

First, his hand on your arm, and then the one on your back - you really shouldn't have accepted his offer knowing you were going to spend at least a night and likely more frustratedly horny. 

You'd barely survived a day in an office with him, And that was before you'd been intimate. 

Now you had memories, and a reference point, and a goddamn bed. 

“Here. I'll clear a draw so you can unpack. Let me grab you some towels as well, and-” 

“What do you mean?” Your tone was brighter, less challenging now and more open curiosity, as if being mollified by his temporary kindness. The change made you uncomfortable.

He looked back at you with a wide-eyed questioning stare. 

“Hmm?” 

“Clear a draw? You keep clothes in your spare room?” 

He struggled for an answer for a second before meeting your eyes again with an almost apologetic glance. 

“Y/N, I don't have a spare bed. The other room only has a desk. The bed was removed when-” he trailed off, looking almost guilty as he spotted your embarrassed look. 

“Okay, and when were you going to tell me that?” You said, hands on your hips in an attempt at intimidation. His eyes dragging down your body said that it'd had the opposite effect.

“I did,” he said, stepping closer to you again, hands resting on your hips then stroking up your back until he was cradling your back, closing the gap between you until you were chest to chest. 

“You weren't listening, remember?" 

You desperately clung to that indignant annoyance as his gaze slid to your mouth, your hands pinned against his chest. You were painfully aware of the bed just inches behind you, wondering what his reaction would be if you just stripped off and climbed in. 

“I wasn't listening just now, but I sure as hell was listening on campus. Emily has a spare room, let me call her.”

“No,” he pouted, leaning forward to press his lips to your cheek. 

“Spencer!” You gasped at the unexpected move. If you weren't so delicately pressed up against his rising member, you'd accuse him of acting like a spoiled child. 

He did it again, switching to your other cheek. You pouted back at him, glaring at him when he surfaced from each kiss. 

“You know,” you said as he licked at the skin between your neck and your collar bone. “You have a job to do, right?” 

He hummed against your skin, lips rising to the sensitive point just below your earlobe. 

You breathed out a shaky sigh and tried again. 

“You can't just keep me in bed for two weeks,” you said, gripping his shoulders lightly, not sure whether you wanted him off you, or you wanted him buried deeper.

“I can't?”  

His lips rose again to your cheeks, but so his his hands, grabbing a breast in one hand as the other squeezed your ass, pulling you closer. 

“Spencer, some would think you hadn't had sex in months, come on-” 

“Haven't.” 

His hands were more insistent now, pushing up your shirt and finding your sensitive breasts. His wandering hands didn't care about your bra, they didn't care about how sensitive your nipples were because of the hormones, they didn't even care they were being a bit too rough as he pinched your nipples hard and pulled them upwards, a moan shooting from your mouth. 

It was so painful, so fucking delicious that you almost missed his words. You almost laughed at the irony that both your and his first fuck in months had resulted in a pregnancy. A dry spell ended by a shower of orgasms and a conception to boot. How lucky. 

Spencer was too busy for thought. 

“God, Spencer, if you're going to fuck me standing up, at least do it against a wall.”

He reluctantly pulled his hands away and his head, too, just long enough to glare at you. 

“Towels,” you said. “And a clear draw.” 

He nodded and finally removed his hands from you, though you had no doubt he'd be back on you the minute all the tasks for the day were done. 

“And Spencer?” You said, curiosity getting the better of you. 

He turned to look at you, and you let the question out before you could think about it too much. 

“How busy were you that you haven't had time to fuck in months?” 

If it were any other man, you'd have cringed at hearing your own question. But Spencer always answered so earnestly that there could be very little embarrassment with him. Just frustration and confusion. 

“I wasn't busy,” he said, already making his way out of the room, leaving his head peeking around the doorway as he finished his explanation. 

“I was in prison.” 

You spent the next 72 hours trying to wrap your mind around that declaration. Of all things he could've been doing, prison never came to mind. 

A vow of celibacy you'd believe. Just a general lack of game, you'd be a bit more hesitant to believe, considering his general attractiveness. A nasty case of (now cured) Chlamydia leading to almost a year sex free in recovery would be preferable. Or a stint in rehab for sex addiction, perhaps, considering how often his hands had been on you since arriving. 

But prison? 

What the fuck would they put him in prison for? 

While he'd run errands for you that night, you'd tucked yourself into his bed, not even bothering to change into your pajamas. You stripped off a single layer and climbed in, not stopping to let yourself contemplate that answer until the morning. 

Unfortunately, since you'd found yourself snuggled up to a hard cock 8 hours later, you didn't exactly have time to think about it then either, busy grinding against him wantonly. 

By the time his hands were gripping the flesh of your thighs grinding back into you on the edge of sleep, you'd been struck with your usual morning upset, and had sent yourself to the bathroom quietly to empty your stomach. 

He was still abed when you'd finished, and you decided to leave him there to think, and then you'd repeated that twice coming up with no logical conclusion. 

You'd finally given in and thrown in the towel when you realised you had Penelope’s contact details still and decided to ask her yourself. 

It was a relief to know that the man you'd created life with was not actually a murderer but actually wrongfully convicted. Especially since you were supposedly thrown into his arms (this time) by a murderer yourself. 

You did start to feel guilty about treating him like shit when you first met, though. He'd, supposedly, only been back from federal prison for a few weeks when he was thrust into your office, which probably explained his less than friendly nature. 

It didn't excise yours. 

You'd kept our distance enough in those few days to avoid sexual encounters, but you relaxed into his touch a little more after finding out. 

It came as a bigger shock than it should have that you enjoyed Spencer Reid's company. 

Bored out of your mind on house arrest, you'd taken to rooting through his bookshelves, and when he wasn't commenting on your bad habit of touching other peoples books or actually doing his job, he rooted with you. 

“Why do you have a copy of The Collector by John Fowles from a New York public library?” 

“It was from a case.”

“And why didn't you return it.” 

“Touché.” 

You'd rolled your eyes at him  and picked up a battered copy of Crime and Punishment from a lower shelf.

“Writing a book this long should be a crime, and reading it must be a punishment,” you grumbled to yourself as he laughed behind you. 

“I can finish it in three hours,” he said, trying not to brag but failing miserably. 

“You're bluffing.”

“Want to make a bet?” He smiled at you mischievously, and suddenly you saw the boy he must've been. Your heart panged as you wondered if your child would inherit that look. 

“Penelope said I shouldn't gamble with you. Las Vegas, right?” 

“Penelope?” he asked, and you realised your blunder. Technically, you still had yet to be introduced to the one woman tech show that was Ms. Garcia, and you scrambled for an excuse. 

“Emily made me contact her with all my passwords and tech info,” you said, technically not lying. 

“She's real friendly.” That was definitely the truth, and you prayed to god that he bought it. 

You didn't give him a chance yo interrogate further, simply throwing the brick of a Russian classic at him and grabbing a book yourself. 

You climbed onto the couch next to him, resting your head in his lap and began to read your book. 

“Time starts now, Reid. And I will be testing you after.”

“Sure, if you can stay awake,” he said, stroking your hair out of your eyes and leaving you in peace as he began his solo race. 

Spencer didn't let go of your off-hand comment, though. On the contrary, he let it spill over into his work life the next day as he watched Penelope with furtive eyes, wondering what the two of you could be hiding. 

He knew you were hiding something. You'd had the same look about you at the bookshelves as you did when you first insisted you weren't attracted to him. A mildly annoyed face and an unconscious bite of the lip, a glance to the right, and all of a sudden, he was dying to know what you were hiding.

“So far there's been little activity in the hunting grounds due to the vigilance of the girls on campus, but there have been a spike in reported stalking, and Penelope, how do you know Y/N?” 

He fought to get the words out, mollifying himself with the consolation that at least he got all the important information out first in the middle of the meeting. 

“Oh ho,” chortled Luke from the side, looking on amusedly as Penelope glanced about for help or a way out. 

“I don't know Y/N, I've never met Y/N. Why would you think I know Y/N? Who is Y/N?” 

“Slightly overkill, Penelope,” Emily said, collecting her papers and abandoning the other woman. 

The others followed suit as she gaped and sent pleading looks behind them. 

“Penelope?” Reid said again, and Penelope was annoyed to find his stupidly innocent puppy-dog eyes staring back at her and expecting answers. 

“No, no, no, no, I promised I wouldn't say anything, and I am not breaking a promise. Don't make me break a promise, Spencer, you know that's bad luck.”

She stood and tried to walk briskly out of the room, but he followed her still. 

“Penelope, please. I won't say anything.” 

“Yes, you will. You can't help yourself,” she said, stopping to talk to him for a second before quickly starting again, practically marching to her office. 

“Then tell me where you met, at least? I know it wasn't messages, Penelope, all her communications went through Emily. She's lying to me, and we have to keep her safe.”

They finally reached her office, and Spencer finally pulled out his final card. 

“I just want to keep her safe, Penelope. Just this one girl, just this once.” 

She looked at him with a shocked, heartbroken face, even as she knew he was manipulating her and caved. 

“She came to your apartment. A month ago. I was there picking up a book for you.”

“What was she doing there?” 

Penelope hesitated, trying to avoid the topic of your revelation, telling herself that if she didn't tell him about the baby, she hadn't actually broken her promise. 

“The emails. She found some emails from you in her spam folder.” 

“Right,” he said, blowing out a deep breath in relief. “Right the emails. She mentioned that.” 

Penelope, too, let out a sharp exhale, imagining the worst of it over now he'd stopped asking questions. 

Spencer made his way to the door before turning back and asking one more, though.

“Penelope, why did she ask you to keep this to yourself?” 

Penelope sent him an apologetic look, then zipped her mouth shut and threw away the key. He nodded and took his leave. 

Spencer was sure that there was an explanation for everything, that you'd probably just been embarrassed at turning up at his house and finding out he wasn't there. Maybe you'd even forgotten you'd been. 

But another deeper part of him was angry and unjustifiably so. You'd lied to him, and he felt sick, angry, violent, and like he'd love nothing more than to bend you over his lap and make sure you never did it again.

All of the unjustified anger he'd pent up in prison, the rough way he carried himself in the field now, his less than friendly exterior, it was bleeding into his relationship with you. 

He tried to damp it down, but he couldn't control it, and he was scared even as he opened the door to the apartment and prepared himself for an argument that would probably end in rough, probably progress-ending sex. 

And you had made progress in the last few days. He'd thought at the very least that you'd be a friend, albeit one he would love to kiss and sink deep into. Now he knew that he'd probably ruin all chances of that as he rounded the corner and prepared for a fight. 

He was angry, and, like it or not, he knew he was going to take it out on you. 

It was the sight of you on the couch that completely dissipated every negative emotion that he had. 

Your dress was loose and fell about you in a puddle, though it too was drowned underneath what looked to be every blanket in the house. 

Tara sat off in the corner silently watching you, and he gave her a stiff nod as she departed her protection duty for the day. 

“S-Spencer,” you sniffled, and his heart paced rapidly as he found your face stained with tear tracks, fresh tears still dripping down as well. 

He had just enough time to check you over for injuries before you had flung yourself into his arms and commenced sobbing like an absolute baby. 

“Y/N, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Did something happen?” 

Your breath hitched as you tried to speak, but you couldn't calm down and he walked you back to the couch, sitting down and letting you climb into his lap, straddling him as you once again buried your face in your neck. 

Five minutes later, you'd ceased with the dramatics, but you faced the awkward consequence of having to tell him now that you were crying because of a scene in Marley and Me. 

“It's s-stupid,” you laughed into his neck as you cuddled into him, further muffling your voice against his chest. 

“Just tell me,” he pleaded, stroking your back and hair. You looked up at him in his eyes, and then shook your head and retreated into the comfort of the crook of his neck, hips pushing closer into his as his hands rubbed comforting circles in your back. 

After a few rubs, it was quite obvious that his hands were pushing lower, and his fingers were close to grabbing a handful of your ass. 

“Was it a movie?” He asked. You nodded. 

He looked at the screen and sighed. 

“Marley and Me?” He asked. You nodded again. 

“And the dog-” 

“He died, Spencer. He loved his family so much that he took himself outside so they wouldn't have to watch him die.”

“I know, Y/N, I know.” 

“He was such a good dog,” you said, blubbering again. 

“I know,” he said, gently kissing you. 

“You know, crying during movies is a sign that oxytocin has been triggered by the connections you feel due to vicarious social experience. Your attention is captured and emotions elicited by the movie's story.” 

He kissed you again, and you kept listening to his explanation, suddenly calmed by his gentle explanation. 

“Oxytocin is best known for its role in childbirth and breastfeeding, increasing contractions during labour and stimulating the milk ducts, but it's also released in response to positive physical contact – hugging, kissing, sexual intimacy and even petting animals – as well as through positive social interactions.” 

“Spencer?” You said, looking up at him again. 

“Yes?” 

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I do know what oxytocin is. I, too, have a PhD, you know.” 

He smiled shyly as he ran his hands down your legs and back up again, pushing your skirt up to the tops of your thighs before gripping the bare skin he found there. 

“I think I'd much prefer if you just kissed me again,” you said. 

And he did. 

With a tear, you'd lifted the anger that had built up all day, and now he was like putty in your hands, obeying his every command for physical attention. 

He kissed you hard, his tongue tangling with yours as your hips subtly shifted above his, stimulating areas that had been much too eager to be stimulated in the last few days. 

His cock rose slightly, filling with blood as you moaned gently into the kiss. 

He was seconds from pushing you into the couch once again and freeing his abused cock, plundering your depths once again, but gently this time. He had promised himself he'd make the third time a bed at least, but here he was. You had to stop sitting on sofas. 

But with a quick thank you and heavy eyelids, you pulled away and rested your head against his shoulder. 

In his shock and disappointment, it took him rather a long time to realise you'd fallen asleep in his arms. Though his body craved attention for his own, the weight of you on top of him was warm, and satisfying, and when the shock wore off and he'd blinked away any untoward thoughts, he pulled you in closer, sunk down into the couch, and slept with you. 

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[harryspet]

bambi eyes (3) r. cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

word count: 3.4k

In which you do your best to deal with your Daddy's mood swings.

main masterlist

bambi eyes masterlist

You felt like you were seeing Rafe less and less as the next two weeks went on. He was stressed about what was going on with work. He often paced back and forth in front of you, ranting, although he was never specific about the details of what was going on. 

You noticed that he grabbed you tighter, pushed you harder into the mattress, and talked less during sex whenever something outside was affecting him. You were starting to accept it; it never hurt too much, and you’d be more scared if he weren’t interested in you in that way. If he didn’t want to be intimate with you, then there was a chance he wouldn’t want you anymore. 

As much as Rafe promised you this was permanent, you couldn’t fully believe him. He had done all of this just for you, so you had to be able to offer him something special in return. 

Like Rafe wanted, you established a routine. Every morning the birds would wake you up exactly at eight, and you’d make your bed which kept you from napping all day. Staying in your room was causing your imagination to stretch.  You found new ways to entertain yourself, including trying on all the clothes in your wardrobe and throwing elaborate tea parties with all your stuffed animals and dolls. 

One night that you thought would be like the last twelve nights, Rafe came to you after Lana had already brought you dinner. He wasn’t dressed in his usual khakis and dress shirt but in sweatpants and a pullover. You were curled up on the window seat, drawing flowers in a notebook, when Rafe came over to join you. 

“Hi,” You spoke softly. He placed a warm hand on your knee, and you slowly closed your notebook. 

“Hi, baby,” There was an ease and calmness to his voice that made you believe he’d actually had a good day, “What are you working on? Show me.”

You sat up, leaning closer, as you handed him the notebook. You hid slightly behind your knees as Rafe began to flip through the pages. At this point, you’d covered half of the pages in your doodles, “Oh wow, these are really pretty, Bambi,” He smiled with his entire face, including his bright eyes, “We should hang some of these on the fridge.”

You felt a bit of relief, hearing that he liked him, “I have more. Way more. I’ve colored a lot of the coloring books.”

“Go get them, I’ll pick my favorites,” Excitedly, you got up from the window seat. When you set several full coloring books in his lap, Rafe’s lips parted in shock, “Okay, wow, I don’t think I realized how much coloring you’d been doing.”

“I think it’s fun,” You said. 

“Good, I want you to have fun,” Rafe nodded, “But have you worn down all your color pencils? How come you haven’t asked for more?”

You shrugged when Rafe gave you an inquisitive look, “I try to take care of the ones I have.”

“Would you even ask Daddy for more coloring books if you ran out of pages to color?”

“Maybe,” You spoke honestly. 

The idea of asking for more than what Rafe had already given you did make your heart race. Rafe shook his head at something, “Daddy will get you lots more art supplies. Maybe you could try painting?”

“We could paint together?” You perked up. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Rafe assured you, “I’m really, really sorry I haven’t been here as much as I’ve wanted to. Needed to, really. It’s just … I’m working on a lot of things right now, you know?”

“I’ve been okay,” You said, “Lana has been kind to me.”

“Good, good, I want you to be happy here, you know? That’s why I want you comfortable asking for things,” You watched Rafe’s eyes wander towards the bookshelf, “Like your books. I never see you reading them. Do you not like them?”

“I do,” You said quickly.

Rafe started to stare deeply at you, “What-what is it?”

“I . . . “

“I can pick some different ones for you? What do you like?”

“I like it when you read to me, Daddy,” Rafe tilted his head and the mentioning of his nickname didn’t light up his features like usual, “It’s hard for me. I never needed to … do that.”

He paused, which made you think you’d done something wrong, “You’ve never needed to read?”

“I can do it,” You said, “It’s hard when they’re all together, and there’s so many… the words. I’m sorry you think I don’t like the books you picked. I really do. I will try harder–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Rafe rushed to put the coloring books aside and grab ahold of your face, “I just didn’t know, that’s it. You didn’t do anything wrong. At all.”

It wasn’t something you’d ever felt embarrassed about, but now you couldn’t help but feel stupid. Deep down, you felt a guy like Rafe deserved someone better. He deserved someone smarter than you. 

You closed your eyes, wanting to hang your head, but Rafe said, “Look at me, hey,” Weakly, you did, “I’ve been thinking that you should spend more time with Lana instead of being cooped up in here. At least until I can take care of this … one problem I have. She’d be happy to have some company. And, if you want to learn, she could help you with your reading.”

“You don’t care?”

“Not at all, look, don’t worry. I’ve got you, sweet girl,” He said. Rafe leaned in to peck your nose before he brought your lips together. You melted into him, realizing then how much you missed him when he was gone, “You know what I was thinking?”

You stared back at Rafe, who had a mischievous look in his eye. 

“We should take the boat out.”

“Now? Where?” 

“Just on a short ride to get you some fresh air. It’ll be cold, so let’s find you some warmer clothes, yeah?”

It was a rhetorical question; Rafe was already making his way over to your wardrobe. You looked down at the small silk pajama set you were wearing. You’d seen all the boats out by the dock but hadn’t imagined that Rafe would take you out on one. “Lift your arms,” You did exactly as he said, pulling a light blue sweatshirt over your head. He also chose long pajama bottoms, helping you get into those, too, “You want to bring one of your stuffies?”

Your excitement mixed with your anxiety as you put on your slippers. It was a hard decision to make about which stuffed animal you wanted to bring, but you settled on Fin, your silvery-blue dolphin, “Excellent choice.”

Rafe grabbed your hand, leading you downstairs, “Do you think we’ll see a real dolphin?”

“Well, they tend to be more active during the day, and it’ll be dark soon … but maybe if you wish really, really hard.”

The air was much cooler outside than you expected, and you certainly didn’t expect it to feel so strange being in the fresh air. You turned in a circle just so you could take in the sky, the trees, the house, and everything around you. 

You followed a determined Rafe across the yard and towards the deck. He chose one of the smaller boats, although there was room for at least four more people. You yelped when Rafe grabbed you by your waist suddenly and lifted you inside. Another yelp escaped your lips as the boat rocked under the pressure of your weight, “You’re okay, don’t worry,” He didn’t have to tell you to take a seat or be still; you decided you wouldn’t move at all, “One . . . moment.”

You watched through the corner of your eyes as Rafe untied the roaps keeping the boat tethered to the dock. The boat rocked again as Rafe hopped inside, causing you to grip Fin in one hand and grip the side of the boat in the other. 

You sat in the seat right across from Rafe as the boat slowly pulled off towards deeper water. As the boat became more steady, you turned your head and watched Tannyhill get smaller and smaller. The orange and blue sky reflected off the water, creating an insanely beautiful view. You sailed towards the horizon, the son looking half submerged in the water, “How do you feel?” Rafe yelled over the sound of the motor, “Wanna go faster?”

You nodded, a smile growing on your face, “My little daredevil, huh?” You sat up on your knees, wanting to see more. You get a better look at Figure 8, seeing lots of huge houses along the beach, although none of them compare to Tannyhill. Rafe pointed out different landmarks for you, including the country club and a huge lighthouse out in the water. In your eyes, this night made every other night where you worried about your place with Rafe worth it. 

“Go ahead, you can give it a taste test,” Lana conceded, allowing you to dip your finger into the chocolate cake batter. A few days after your night out with Rafe, Lana was showing you how to make the perfect chocolate cake. You thought she might be exaggerating about how perfect it was until you were licking your finger. An excited moan left your mouth and you bounced on the balls of your feet, “It’s great, isn’t it? Espresso powder is the key.”

“It really is,” You agreed. 

“Now, wash your hands. It’s time to pour our batter.” 

The entire day Lana had told you exactly what to do and how to do it. You didn’t mind listening or following her directions as she usually spoke to you warmly. Besides that, you wanted to learn exactly how to take care of things around the house, knowing that Rafe would appreciate your help when Lana couldn’t be here. The two of you cleaned the entire downstairs, did several loads of laundry, washed the windows in the glass patio, and even had time for a reading lesson in the early morning. She informed you that she homeschooled her youngest son and that she would try to teach you in a similar way. 

As you washed your hands, you glanced out the side window towards the dock. You could see Rafe far out on the dock, standing with the same business associate who came to the house a few weeks ago. They weren’t alone like you were expecting; someone was on their knees a few feet ahead of them, their head slumped over. You squinted your eyes, trying to see more of them, although Rafe and his business associate shouting at each other blocked your view, “What are they doing out there? Who’s that?” Lana came over to where you were standing, peeking out just like you were. 

Whatever business Rafe was involved in, Lana didn’t seem to care for it, “Mr. Cameron and Barry, they’re always at each other’s throats,” She shook her head, “Come, dry your hands. The oven is heated.”

You did as she said, turning your head away. There were going to be several layers to your cake, meaning you had three pans to fill, and after that, you and Lana would make the icing. Just as your mind wandered back to Rafe, you heard him coming through the kitchen door. 

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, pacing for a moment before his dark eyes landed on you, “Bambi, let’s … uhm, go upstairs,” His voice was shaky and deeper than normal, “Come here.”

“We’re-We’re just about to put the cake in the oven. It’s for tonight, and we’re going to make homemade icing too–”

“Now …please,” He said the last word like it was painful, “It’s time for you to go back to your room.”

No, no, no, a voice repeated in your head. 

“But Lana was going to teach me how to ice the cake, too and she —”

“Fine,” Rafe snapped, his hand slamming against the counter before he rolled his eyes, “Just stay here.” 

As Rafe stomped away, you knew you had something horribly wrong. You’d seen him in a similar mood before but he never directed any of his vitriol towards you before. Whatever had happened on the dock had clearly upset him. You really wanted to finish working with Lana. More than anything, you didn’t want to be locked in your room for another long period of time. 

After taking a breath, or attempting to take one, you turned to Lana, “I didn’t mean… I-I should go say sorry.”

“You might want to let him calm down a little bit, sweetheart,” You’d already made up your mind. You reached behind your neck to undo the top of your apron, “Turn around, let me help you. He’s not mad at you.”

“How do you know?”

“I know who he is,” She spoke simply, “Don’t take anything too personally with Mr. Cameron.”

“You can finish without me; I’m sorry, but thank you for today,” You said as you started to walk away. After you saw her nod, a sad smile on her face, you turned away and sped for the stairs. 

You approached Rafe’s bedroom moments later, hesitantly turning the knob, “Daddy?” You called, peeking inside. You called him again. He wasn’t in the main room but the shower was running in the bathroom, ��Rafe?”

You jumped when he suddenly appeared in the bathroom doorframe, shirtless and his belt undone. This time, you notice his bruised hands and bloody knuckles. 

“I didn’t mean to make you upset, Daddy.”

“Get down on your knees,” He stared you down. When you tried to come closer, he said, “No, drop to your knees right there.”

You felt your knees brush against the bedroom rug, “Crawl to me.” 

If Rafe wanted you to feel even smaller, then his plan was successful. You did as he said, seeing no other option, and crawled towards him. You watched as he palmed himself over his briefs, and you could already feel him stretching you, pulling your hair, and leaving marks on your bottom. This wouldn’t last, you told yourself; he would be gentle with you another time. 

Your sage dress had ridden up your body, exposing your floral patterned white panties. 

“You’re gonna suck my cock and swallow all my cum. And then you’re gonna thank Daddy for letting you.”

You’d do exactly as your Daddy wanted, hoping he’d take your sore throat and tears as a sufficient apology. 

Once you were soundly asleep in his bed, Rafe slipped out. He had a huge, bloody problem waiting for him in the cabin of his boat. Luckily, JJ Maybank was still the degenerate he used to be, and no one except his Pogue girlfriend would come looking for him anytime, “Son of a bitch isn’t talking,” Barry grunted out, meeting Rafe at the beginning of the dock, “Knocked two of his bottom teeth out and he’s still not motivated.”

Rafe had done everything possible to limit any competition he might face in Kildare. All small-time dealers would be working for someone who worked for Rafe. This was meant to be Rafe’s island yet somehow, Maybank was getting supplies from the mainland and was stealing his customers. 

“We could take his girl.”

Rafe contemplated Barry’s question before shaking his head, “If she comes around trying to find him, we might have no choice. I’m sure that will motivate him.”

Rafe could see Barry’s eyes wandering to Kie. Part of him would love to see JJ squirm if they got their hands on her. You were the reason he didn’t think too long about that. Barry, on the other hand, Rafe would let him do whatever he wanted with Kie. In the end, Rafe wanted JJ to talk, to give up his sources, but he’d be just fine killing him. 

“I hope,” Barry crossed his arms, “Not exactly looking forward to dealing with the body.”

“We don’t have to deal with that shit anymore; I know who to pay to handle it,” Rafe said, “Speaking of, I think I-uh need some more security here. I want guards all around the perimeter. Because of the amount of merchandise and if we’re going to be taking captives, you know. I want this place to be a fortress.”

“Your merchandise, huh?” Barry flashed Rafe a knowing look, “You got any liquor in that big house?”

Rafe gestured his head toward the house, signaling to Barry to follow behind him. 

“If Kie doesn’t come for him and if he still has no information to offer us, we kill him. No more torture, no mess, one gunshot to the temple,” Rafe instructed, his mind racing with what their next moves should be. The more planning beforehand, the better, and the less likely it would come back to them, “That’ll send a message to the rest of the Pogues too. They work for me, or they work for no one.”

“And after you’ve cornered the market?”

“That’s just the start of everything else,” Rafe led Barry through the first floor, towards his office. Ward always used to keep his office stocked with liquor as it came in handy for important meanings. Rafe learned people will often let down their barriers and concede to more under the influence of alcohol. He opened the door for him, allowing him to enter. 

“Whoa,” Barry said, walking inside just as Rafe heard a soft gasp from a familiar voice. Eyebrows raised, Rafe entered behind him to find what had shocked him, “Is this the new Mrs. Cameron?”

With wide eyes, Rafe took you in. You were in the same clothes Rafe left you in, one of his white button-ups and your knee-high socks, “What are you doing down here?” You slowly stepped behind Rafe’s desk, and he could tell you were trying to hide yourself.

“I-I couldn’t find you.”

Rafe’s jaw jutted forward, his arms crossed, as he said, “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Your lips parted to say something, but Barry interrupted, “C’mon, man, it’s not even midnight! Introduce me to your girl. We can all have a drink,” He grabbed ahold of Rafe’s shoulder. You would think Barry had one the lottery based on the look in his eyes. By complete accident, Barry had stumbled on Rafe’s biggest treasure, “I’ll behave, I promise.”

“She doesn’t drink.”

 Rafe was frustrated, mostly because he should’ve been keeping closer track of you. He’d given you that necklace for a reason. A new idea crossed his mind, one he wasn’t expecting, and some of his anxiety eased. He was far from embarrassed of you, he’d chosen you for a reason, but part of Rafe wanted Barry to envy him at that moment. 

Rafe sighed, waving you closer to the two of them, “Bambi, this is Barry. Barry, this is Bambi,” Smoothly, Rafe grabbed ahold of your waist, pulling you into him. 

“Hi,” You said shyly, “It’s nice to meet you.” 

 When Barry held his hands out to you, your eyes darted towards Rafe as if to ask permission. Agreement crossed his face, and Rafe watched you shake his hand. Barry was fully taking you in, of course, but Rafe knew a handshake would be the extent of his closeness with you. 

“The pleasure is all mine, beautiful.”

“Chill out, dude. Sit down,” Rafe instructed Barry, pulling you along. 

Barry made himself comfortable on the leather couch and Rafe motioned you to sit across in one of the leather chairs. 

“How you liking Kildare?” 

“It’s really nice,” Rafe heard you respond as he poured two glasses of whiskey for him and Barry, “There’s so many big houses, and … it’s just really pretty.”

“You ain’t seen much then, have you?” Rafe handed Barry his glass, flashing a warning with his eyes, “All the girls where you’re from, they as pretty as you?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” You laughed nervously. 

Rafe placed a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him,  “Why don’t you go get Barry a slice of that chocolate cake you made?” 

Rafe assumed it would ease your nervousness if you could share what you made. “Okay, Daddy,” You smiled at both men, and both men watched you closely as you walked out of the room, “I’ll be right back.”

“Pretty and obedient,” Barry whistled, “I need to travel more.”

A/N: Thank you all so much for your support on the first two chapters BUT psa you will not be added to my taglist if you're not reblogging the fic and letting me know your thoughts! It is crazy to me that people will ask me to tag them in the next chapter when they have neither liked nor reblogged the fic. Constructive feedback is more encouraging than just commenting "PART 4" or "tag me in part 4" :)

PART 4

[xxspringmelodyxx]

"𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔!"

┗━━━━━━⊱ 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 ⊰━━━━━━┛

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 @haydensjw 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕! 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 <3333

⊱ 𝑰𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒔: 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒖 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐, 𝑺𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖 𝑮𝒆𝒕𝒐, 𝑲𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝑵𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊, 𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒐 𝑲𝒂𝒎𝒐, 𝑻𝒐𝒋𝒊 𝑭𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒐, 𝑺𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝑹𝒚𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏 ⊰

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿

─═✧✧═─ 𝕊𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕦 𝔾𝕠𝕛𝕠 ─═✧✧═─

You squinted at the blurry shapes around you, feeling a sense of frustration well up inside. Your contact lenses had disappeared into the abyss of your room, and your glasses had decided to break at the worst possible time. Navigating without them was like trying to walk through a dense fog. You tried to make your way to the living room, but every step felt uncertain.

Just as you were about to give up and crawl back to your bed, you collided with a firm chest. Strong hands steadied you, and you looked up—or at least tried to—into the familiar blur of Satoru Gojo.

"Whoa there, need a guide, princess?" His voice was filled with amusement, and you could almost see the teasing grin on his face.

"Very funny, Satoru," you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up. "Can you help me find my way to the living room?"

"Of course," he said, taking your hand. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left my helpless girlfriend stumbling around in the dark?"

You rolled your eyes, even though you knew he couldn’t see it. "I’m not helpless. I just have a temporary visual impairment."

He chuckled and began to lead you down the hallway. Despite his teasing, his touch was gentle, and he navigated you through the obstacles with ease. "You know, you should really keep a spare pair of glasses."

"I usually do," you grumbled. "But they both decided to betray me today."

As you reached the living room, Satoru made sure you were comfortably seated before disappearing into the kitchen. Moments later, he returned with a glass of water and handed it to you. "Here, drink this. You look like you could use it."

"Thanks," you said, taking a sip. The cool water helped calm your nerves a bit.

Satoru sat down beside you, his arm draped casually over the back of the couch. "So, what’s the plan? Are we going to spend the day playing 'Guess What This Blurry Object Is'?"

You laughed. "Very funny. No, I was thinking about reading a book, but that’s clearly not happening."

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "How about I read to you?"

You raised an eyebrow. "You? Read to me?"

"Sure, why not?" he said with a grin. "I’ve been told I have a pretty decent voice."

You couldn’t help but smile. "Alright, fine. But you better pick a good book."

Satoru stood up and walked over to your bookshelf, scanning the titles. He picked out a book and returned to the couch, opening it to the first page. "How about this one?" He asked, reading the title to you.

You nodded, settling back into the cushions as he began to read. His voice was surprisingly soothing, and you found yourself getting lost in the story, despite the fact that you couldn’t see the words. It was a nice change of pace, and you appreciated the effort he was putting in to make you feel better.

As the day went on, you found yourself relying more and more on Satoru. When you needed to get up, he was there to guide you. When you wanted something from another room, he fetched it for you. His usually playful demeanor softened, and he took care of you with a tenderness that warmed your heart.

Later in the afternoon, you decided to tackle some chores. You tried to lift a box of books, but before you could even get a good grip on it, Satoru was there, stopping you.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, a hint of sternness in his voice.

"Just moving some books," you replied, a little taken aback by his sudden seriousness.

"Not on my watch. You’re not lifting anything heavier than a feather, got it?" He effortlessly picked up the box and carried it away, leaving you feeling both cared for and slightly annoyed.

"Satoru, I can handle some light lifting," you protested, following him into the next room.

"Maybe on a normal day, but not today," he said firmly. "You need to rest your eyes and not strain yourself."

You sighed, knowing he was right but still feeling a bit frustrated by your limitations. "I just hate feeling so...useless."

He set the box down and turned to you, his expression softening. "Hey, you’re not useless. You’re just having a rough day. It’s okay to let someone else take care of you once in a while."

You looked up at him, your vision still blurry but clear enough to see the sincerity in his eyes. "Thank you, Satoru. I really appreciate everything you’re doing."

He smiled, pulling you into a gentle hug. "Anytime, princess. Now, why don’t you relax while I finish up here?"

You nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. Despite the teasing and the jokes, Satoru had shown you just how much he cared, and it made you love him even more.

That evening, as you both sat on the couch, Satoru turned on the TV and put on your favorite show. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "You know, if you ever need a guide dog, I’m available," he said with a wink.

You laughed, resting your head on his shoulder. "I’ll keep that in mind."

With Satoru by your side, you knew that even the blurriest days could be filled with love and laughter.

─═✧✧═─ 𝕊𝕦𝕘𝕦𝕣𝕦 𝔾𝕖𝕥𝕠 ─═✧✧═─

The battle had been intense. The curses had appeared out of nowhere, and you had been caught off guard. In the chaos, a powerful curse had lashed out at you, knocking you off your feet and sending your glasses flying. They shattered upon impact with the ground, leaving you virtually blind.

You struggled to get up, blinking rapidly in a futile attempt to clear your vision. The world around you was a blur, and panic started to set in. You couldn’t see the curses, couldn’t defend yourself properly. Your heart raced as you tried to make out the blurry forms around you.

"Hold on, I’m coming!" Suguru's voice cut through the confusion. He was fighting his way toward you, his powerful attacks taking down curses left and right. Despite the chaos, he never lost sight of you.

When he finally reached you, he immediately noticed your struggle. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

"My glasses," you managed to say, pointing to the shattered pieces on the ground.

Suguru's expression hardened. "Stay close to me," he ordered, taking your hand. He led you to a safer spot, his grip firm and reassuring.

With you safely behind him, Suguru unleashed his full power, vanquishing the remaining curses with a fierce determination. You watched in awe, even through your blurry vision, as he fought with precision and strength.

Once the battle was over, Suguru turned his attention back to you. "Let’s get you out of here," he said gently. He helped you up and guided you through the wreckage, making sure you didn’t trip or stumble.

Back at the base, Suguru sat you down and examined the broken pieces of your glasses. "These are beyond repair," he said, shaking his head.

You sighed, feeling a wave of frustration. "Great, now what am I going to do? I can’t see a thing without them."

"Don’t worry," Suguru said, his tone soothing. "I’ll take care of you until we get a new pair."

He made a quick phone call, arranging for a new pair of glasses to be delivered as soon as possible. In the meantime, he stayed by your side, guiding you through your daily tasks with unwavering patience.

"You don’t have to do this," you said, feeling a bit guilty for being so dependent on him.

"I want to," Suguru replied, his eyes softening. "You mean a lot to me. It’s the least I can do."

As the day progressed, you found yourself relying more and more on Suguru. When you needed to move from one room to another, he was there to guide you. When you wanted to eat, he described the food in front of you and helped you navigate your plate.

Despite the frustration of your impaired vision, Suguru’s presence made everything feel more manageable.

As evening approached, Suguru suggested going outside for some fresh air. "It might help clear your mind," he said.

You agreed, and he led you to a quiet park nearby. The sounds of nature surrounded you, and you felt a sense of peace despite your blurred vision. Suguru described the scene around you, pointing out the blooming flowers and the setting sun.

After a while, your phone buzzed, indicating that your new glasses were ready for pickup. Suguru accompanied you to the optometrist, guiding you carefully into the store.

The optometrist greeted you warmly and handed you your new glasses. As you put them on, the world snapped back into focus, and you sighed with relief. "Thank you so much," you said to the optometrist.

She smiled and nodded. "Remember, try not to push yourself too hard, especially with lifting heavy objects. Your eyes are sensitive, and overexertion can worsen your condition."

Suguru's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Overexertion can damage your eyes?"

You nodded, feeling a bit sheepish. "Yeah, it's something I've been warned about before."

Suguru looked at you with a mixture of concern and determination. "Then we need to be even more careful. No more lifting heavy things for you."

You crossed your arms stubbornly, “I appreciate your concern, my love, but I can’t just sit around and do nothing. I want to help.

He sighed, his expression softening, “I know you want to help, but your health comes first. We’ll find other ways for you to contribute without putting strain on your eyes.” I whined

"I just don’t want to feel useless," you insisted.

He sighed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you both walked out of the optometrist’s office. "First of all, you're never useless. But…fine. However, we’re going to find a balance. You can still help, but you need to listen to me when I say something is too much for you."

You smiled, appreciating his compromise. "Deal."

As you both left the optometrist, Suguru wrapped an arm around your shoulders. "I love you, you know.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest. "I love you more, Sugu. Thank you, for everything."

He squeezed your hand gently. "I’m always here for you. No matter what."

With Suguru by your side, you knew that even the blurriest days could be filled with love, support, and a sense of calm that only he could bring.

─═✧✧═─ 𝕂𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕠 ℕ𝕒𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕚 ─═✧✧═─

It was just another day at the school where you worked as a teacher. Your students were engaged in their assignments, the room filled with the quiet hum of concentration. As you adjusted your contact lenses, something felt off. When you rubbed your eyes, one of your contact lenses popped out and fell to the floor.

Panic set in immediately. Without your contact lenses, you could barely see past five centimeters in front of your face. You knelt down, squinting as you tried to find the tiny lens on the floor, but it was hopeless. The world was a blur, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to continue teaching like this.

"Miss, are you okay?" one of your students asked, noticing your distress.

"I’m fine," you said, forcing a smile. "Just misplaced my contact lens. Keep working on your assignments, please."

You managed to get through the rest of the class with the help of your students, who were more than happy to assist you with reading and writing tasks. As soon as the bell rang, you headed straight for the teacher’s lounge, where you knew Kento Nanami would be waiting. He was visiting the school for a guest lecture that day, and you felt a wave of relief knowing he was there.

Kento immediately noticed your struggle as you walked in, one eye squinting and your movements hesitant. "What happened?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

"I lost one of my contact lenses during class," you explained, frustration clear in your tone. "I can’t see anything properly."

Kento sighed and shook his head. "Come on, let’s sit down," he said, guiding you to a chair. He knew all too well about your terrible vision and the precautions you had to take to avoid straining your eyes.

"Thank you," you said, sitting down and rubbing your temples. "I just need to get through the rest of the day without making a fool of myself."

"You’re not making a fool of yourself," Kento reassured you. "These things happen. I’ll help you out."

For the rest of the day, Kento stayed by your side. He guided you through the hallways, helped you with your teaching materials, and even read out loud when necessary. His presence was a calming influence, and you found yourself feeling less anxious about your impaired vision.

When lunchtime came, you both sat in the lounge. Kento handed you your lunch, making sure everything was within easy reach. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "you really should consider carrying a spare pair of glasses or an extra set of contacts."

"I usually do," you replied, taking a bite of your sandwich. "But today has just been...off."

Kento nodded. "It’s alright. We’ll get through this."

As the afternoon wore on, you found yourself needing to lift some boxes of supplies for an upcoming lesson. Without thinking, you bent down to pick one up, but Kento was there in an instant.

"You know you shouldn’t be lifting heavy things," he admonished gently, taking the box from you. "Your vision could worsen with too much strain."

"I know, I know," you said, slightly exasperated. "But I can’t just sit around and do nothing."

"You’re not doing nothing," Kento countered. "You’re teaching and managing your classroom. Let me handle the heavy lifting."

You sighed but nodded, appreciating his concern. "Alright, but just for today."

Kento smiled, setting the box down on a table. "Fine."

As the school day came to a close, Kento escorted you to your car. "I’m glad you were here today," you admitted. "I don’t know how I would have managed without you."

"You would have found a way," he said confidently. "But I’m glad I could help."

─═✧✧═─ ℂ𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕠 𝕂𝕒𝕞𝕠 ─═✧✧═─

It had been a perfect day so far. You, Choso, and Yuji were hanging out at your house, enjoying each other’s company. The weather outside was perfect, and the atmosphere inside was filled with laughter and fun. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until disaster struck.

You and Yuji, in a burst of playful energy, started wrestling in the living room. It was all in good fun until Yuji, with his usual enthusiasm, accidentally knocked your glasses off. They fell to the floor, and before you could react, you both stumbled over them, hearing the dreaded crunch under your feet. Panic set in as you realized that your only means of clear vision was now in pieces.

Choso, who had been watching the two of you with amusement, quickly turned his attention to the broken glasses, his expression changing to concern. “Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes widening as he saw the broken pieces in your hand.

“I... I broke my glasses,” you said, feeling the panic rising. “And I don’t have any contact lenses because I’m too scared to touch my eye.”

Yuji chuckled lightly, trying to ease the tension. “Well, that’s a problem. But don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.”

Choso stood up and walked over to you, gently taking the broken glasses from your hands. “We’ll handle this. First, let’s get you to a place where you can sit comfortably.” He guided you to the couch and sat down beside you, his presence calming.

“I’m really sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to ruin the day,” you said, feeling embarrassed but not helpless.

“Ruin the day? Not a chance,” Yuji said, grinning. “This just makes things more interesting.”

Choso shot him a look but couldn’t help smiling as well. “Yuji’s right. We’re here to help. You’re not ruining anything.”

Choso took charge, making sure you were comfortable. He fetched a soft blanket and draped it over your shoulders. “Just relax. We’ll take care of everything.”

You nodded, feeling a bit better despite the situation. Yuji brought over some snacks and placed them within your reach. “At least you can still enjoy the food, right?”

You laughed, feeling the tension ease. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

As the day went on, Choso and Yuji took turns helping you navigate around the house. They guided you to the kitchen, made sure you had everything you needed, and even described the scenes in the movie you all decided to watch. Their playful banter and constant support made you feel less self-conscious about your predicament.

At one point, Yuji decided to make a joke. “You know, maybe we should get you a seeing-eye dog,” he said with a grin.

Choso rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his amusement. “Or maybe we just need to keep a closer eye on you.”

Despite the teasing, their efforts to make you feel comfortable and cared for were touching. Choso was especially attentive, always by your side, making sure you didn’t feel left out or incapable. His gentle manner and constant reassurances helped you relax and enjoy the day despite your broken glasses.

As evening approached, Choso suggested ordering your favorite takeout for dinner. “You deserve a treat after today,” he said, smiling warmly.

You nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude. “Thank you, Choso. And you too, Yuji. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

“Hey, what are friends for?” Yuji said, handing you a plate of food when it arrived. “And no more stepping on glasses.”

You laughed, feeling much better. "Got it. Thanks for taking care of me."

He chuckled, pulling you closer. “You know, now that you’re kind of visually challenged, I think I’ll just keep you all to myself.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead gently.

You felt a rush of warmth as he continued, planting soft kisses on your cheeks, nose, and then your lips. “Choso, what are you doing?” you asked, giggling.

“Just taking advantage of the situation,” he murmured, his lips trailing down to your neck. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

You blushed, feeling both embarrassed and delighted by his affectionate attention. “Choso, Yuji’s right there.”

Yuji laughed, shaking his head. “Hey, don’t mind me. You two lovebirds go ahead.”

Choso grinned, ignoring Yuji’s comment. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. “I can’t help it. I just want to take care of you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

You melted into his embrace, feeling his love and care envelop you. “Thank you, Choso. For everything.”

“Anytime,” he said softly, pressing another kiss to your temple.

The rest of the evening passed with Choso’s affectionate touches and constant care making you feel cherished. Yuji’s playful remarks kept the mood light, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the love and friendship surrounding you.

As the night drew to a close, Choso helped you get ready for bed. He made sure you were comfortable, tucking you in with a gentle kiss. “Sleep well, my love. Tomorrow, we’ll get your glasses fixed.”

You nodded, feeling content and safe. “Goodnight, Choso. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied, his voice filled with warmth. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to his body. You sighed happily, letting sleep take over your body.

─═✧✧═─ 𝕋𝕠𝕛𝕚 𝔽𝕦𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕦𝕣𝕠 ─═✧✧═─

The day had started like any other, with you excitedly preparing for your date with Toji. But as you reached for your contact lenses, disaster struck. They slipped from your fingers and vanished, leaving you practically blind without them. Panic set in, but you were determined not to let it ruin your plans. You convinced yourself you could manage without them for one day.

That decision proved to be more challenging than you anticipated. From the moment you stepped out of your house, the world around you was a blur. You squinted at the street signs, trying to make sense of the fuzzy letters. Crossing the street was a nightmare; you nearly stepped into oncoming traffic, thinking it was still the sidewalk. Toji had been quick to pull you back, his reflexes sharp, but his eyes filled with confusion.

“What’s wrong with you today?” he had asked, a mix of amusement and concern in his tone.

“Just a little off, I guess,” you had replied, forcing a laugh.

But as the day progressed, it became harder to hide your struggles. You walked into a shop and almost knocked over a display of delicate glass figurines, saved only by Toji’s quick intervention. You missed a step and nearly tripped, catching yourself just in time. Each mishap was a reminder of how dependent you were on your lenses, and how foolish it had been to leave the house without them.

Toji was patient, though you could see the worry growing in his eyes. He held your hand tighter, guiding you more carefully through the busy streets. It was a new side of him, this protective, almost tender manner, and despite your frustration with yourself, it warmed your heart.

However, when you walked into a lamppost, it was the final straw. The impact was minor, but the embarrassment was overwhelming. You wanted to sink into the ground and disappear. Toji’s reaction, however, was not anger or irritation, but genuine concern.

“Toji, I’m fine,” you insisted, attempting to brush it off as a clumsy mistake.

But Toji wasn’t buying it. He stepped closer, his intense gaze locking onto yours, the concern evident in his eyes.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he demanded, his voice firm yet gentle.

With a sigh, you finally confessed. “I lost my contact lenses this morning. My eyesight is terrible without them, but I didn’t want to cancel our date.”

Toji’s expression softened, a mixture of frustration and tenderness washing over his features. “You should’ve told me,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “We’ll take care of this together.”

As he guided you carefully through the crowd, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth. Despite the embarrassment, you knew Toji had your back, no matter what. He navigated you safely through the bustling streets, his protective presence reassuring you with each step.

You reached the restaurant, and Toji held the door open for you. Inside, the world was a blur of colors and shapes, but Toji’s presence was constant. He helped you to your seat, ensuring you were comfortable before sitting down himself. The waiter handed you a menu, but the text was unreadable to your unassisted eyes. You squinted, trying to make sense of the blurred words.

Toji noticed your struggle and gently took the menu from your hands. “Let me,” he said softly. He read the options to you, his voice steady and calm, making you feel at ease despite the situation. You chose your meal, grateful for his assistance.

Throughout dinner, Toji was attentive and caring, his concern for you evident in every gesture. He made sure you were comfortable, helping you navigate the unfamiliar surroundings. His thoughtfulness touched you deeply, and you realized how lucky you were to have him by your side.

After dinner, Toji insisted on taking you to an optometrist. “We’re getting you a new pair of lenses,” he said firmly. You protested, feeling guilty for ruining the evening, but Toji was adamant. “I don’t want you to go through this again,” he said. “Your safety is more important than anything else.”

At the optometrist’s office, Toji stayed with you, his presence a comforting anchor. The doctor examined your eyes and fitted you with a new pair of lenses. The world came into sharp focus once more, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you.

As you stepped out of the office, you turned to Toji, gratitude shining in your eyes. “Thank you,” you said, your voice filled with emotion.

Toji smiled, his hand gently squeezing yours. “You don’t have to thank me,” he replied. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

The rest of the evening passed smoothly, the earlier mishaps forgotten. Toji’s care and understanding had turned a potentially disastrous day into a memorable one. As you walked hand in hand, you felt a deep sense of contentment. You knew that no matter what challenges came your way, Toji would always be there to support you.

And that was a feeling more precious than anything else in the world.

As you walked back, Toji kept a close eye on you, occasionally making light-hearted jokes to lift your spirits. "You know, I always knew you were headstrong, but I didn’t think you’d take it literally."

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Very funny."

As you walked, Toji continued to make sure you were safe, guiding you around obstacles and keeping a steady pace. His hand never left yours, providing a constant source of comfort and reassurance. Despite the mishap, you enjoyed the rest of the walk, appreciating the way Toji took care of you without making you feel helpless.

When you finally reached your apartment, Toji helped you inside and made sure you were comfortable. 

"Thank you, Toji."

"Anytime, doll" he said, sitting beside you. "You really need to take better care of yourself."

"I know, I just didn’t want to ruin our day," you repeated.

He shook his head, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Our day isn’t ruined. I’d rather you tell me if something’s wrong than try to tough it out and end up hurt."

You leaned into him, kissing him gently.

He smiled, ruffling your hair affectionately. "Just promise me you’ll let me know next time, okay?"

"I promise," you said, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. With Toji by your side, you knew that even the most embarrassing moments could turn into cherished memories filled with love and laughter.

─═✧✧═─ 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 ─═✧✧═─

You were spending the day at Sukuna's palace, a rare treat that involved wandering through the vast, ancient halls and admiring the eerie yet majestic beauty of his domain. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, although your glasses had been bothering you slightly. You didn’t want to complain in front of Sukuna, knowing how he could be about such things.

As the day went on, your discomfort grew, and you started to adjust your glasses more frequently, trying to keep them from slipping down your nose. Sukuna noticed but didn’t say anything, his crimson eyes occasionally glancing at you with mild curiosity. You didn’t want to make a fuss, so you tried to ignore it.

While exploring one of the palace’s grand libraries, you were reaching for a book on a high shelf when you lost your balance slightly. In the process, you knocked your glasses off, sending them crashing to the floor. They shattered into pieces, leaving you virtually blind.

Sukuna, who had been observing you from a distance, strolled over with a bemused expression. "Really? You managed to break your glasses? How clumsy can you get?"

You felt a flush of embarrassment. "I’m sorry, Sukuna. I didn’t mean to—"

"Of course, you didn’t mean to," he interrupted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You’re practically blind without those things. How do you even manage?"

You sighed, feeling more embarrassed by the second. "I... I can’t see anything now."

He smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Well, you’re even more useless than usual."

Despite his harsh words, Sukuna guided you to a nearby chair and pushed you gently into it. "Stay here. Do not move," he ordered.

You nodded, squinting as you tried to make out his form in the blurry surroundings. Sukuna left the room, and you could hear him rummaging through drawers and cabinets. A few minutes later, he returned and handed you an ornate box.

"Here," he said, his tone still mocking but with a hint of something softer underneath. "These should help."

You opened the box and found a pair of glasses, surprisingly elegant and fitted with lenses that matched your prescription. "How did you...?"

"Don’t ask stupid questions," he snapped. "Just put them on."

You quickly did as he said, the world snapping back into focus. You looked up at Sukuna, who was watching you with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite identify.

"Better?" he asked, folding his arms.

"Yes, much better. Thank you, Sukuna," you said, genuinely grateful.

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just try not to break those, too."

Despite his harsh words, you could sense the underlying care in his actions. Sukuna might ridicule you for your clumsiness and poor eyesight, but he still made sure you were taken care of in his own way.

The rest of the day passed with Sukuna occasionally making snide comments about your vision, but he stayed close by, ensuring you didn’t have any more mishaps. When you ventured outside to the palace gardens, he guided you with a firm hand, grumbling about your "uselessness" but never letting you stumble.

As the day drew to a close, you found yourselves in the grand hall, a warm fire crackling in the hearth. Sukuna lounged on his throne-like chair, watching you intently.

"You're lucky I have a soft spot for pathetic creatures like you," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

You smiled back, knowing that in his own twisted way, Sukuna cared for you. "I’ll try to be less clumsy next time."

"See that you do," he replied, but there was no real bite in his words.

Sukuna might never openly admit his concern, but his actions spoke louder than his taunts. And for that, you were grateful.

[reidsdimples]

Testing the limits

Hard Dom Spencer Reid x Wife!Reader

18+❤️‍🔥 MDNI ‼️

Saw someone say they needed a mocking Spence saying”aw you just want me to give you some attention” and came up with this 🥵

You cross a line in an attempt to get Spencer’s attention.

TW: Hard Dom Spencer, choking, squirting, restraints

You pace back and forth in front of the door to Spencer’s home office. He had been in there for four hours at this point. After working a full day! It was admirable, his work ethic. But often left you feeling neglected.

An hour ago you knocked and he said “just a minute.”

You knew he wouldn’t be out in a minute. You also you knew you weren’t to go into his office. Something about the classified files in there and what not.

You push the door open to see him with his face still in a file at his desk. He didn’t even look up at you.

“I need more time,” he said dismissively.

It had been exactly 15 days since he touched you. Eight of which he was gone on a work trip, the rest were like this. Home but now home.

You knew what marrying him entailed but times like this when you got so wound tight, it was hard.

“Spencer,” you whine and stomp your foot.

He glanced up from the file briefly to see you standing there in one of his shirts with the buttons open and a thong.

“My love I have to get this done,” he asserts.

You pad away. You needed another plan. You would get him tonight before he worked so hard he fell asleep without so much as a word to you.

For a while you make considerable effort to stomp around upstairs above him, to clash pans in the kitchen, and blast music to get him to at least acknowledge you.

Finally you make a decision. You look back into his office to see him pacing behind his desk, on a phone call. Hotch from the sound of it.

You had a feeling that what you were about to do would get you punished. But you would take a punishment over the absence of him. Seriously, you were so pent up that the mere friction from your panties could make you moan.

He doesn’t see you stroll into his office as his back is turned. You pluck the three files off of the desk and make a break for it. He hears you scurry away.

“Hotch let me call you back,” you hear him throw the phone on his desk.

You make it upstairs and hide the files in a bookshelf in the library before running to your bedroom.

“Y/N you know better,” he calls as he approaches the bedroom.

Your heart hammers, you bite into your lip and pull yourself further under the bed. Excitement courses through you as you see his converse enter the room.

“Poor thing, so desperate for attention,” he mocks and circles the bed. “Pretty girl, I can hear you breathing,” he tutts.

When he reaches one side of the bed you scramble out of the opposite side. He takes long strides to the bedroom door and slams it closed before you reach it.

He was pissed, but he looked so fucking good. The top two buttons of his purple shirt were undone, it was only partially tucked now, and his hair was a mess. His eyes trailed over your mostly naked body as he chewed on his lip.

“So attention starved?” He steps slowly towards you. His deft fingers start to undo his belt buckle causing your cheeks to heat.

“Answer me,” he snaps the belt out from around his waist in a swift motion. You swallow hard.

“I missed you,” you look at him with wide eyes.

“‘I missed you,’” he mocks with a laugh as he shakes his head.

Oh yeah, you had crossed a line.

“Where are the files?” He folds the belt in his strong hands. You shake your head ‘no’ and don’t break eye contact with him.

One thing most people don’t expect about Spencer, is for him to have extremely refined needs sexually. He’s a sadist. You can see his heart rate increasing in his throat as you defy him.

He needs to inflict pain on you, for pleasure of course. You work well with him because you can take anything he dishes out. You get off on the pain, on watching him find pure elation in hurting you.

“You don’t scare me,” you huff, deciding to full send since he’s so far gone now.

You dart for the bathroom which is joined to another room entirely. The room you wanted him in the most.

You hear his calm and collected footsteps enter the room where you keep all of the toys for moments like this. He grabs you by the back of your neck and turns you towards him. You can’t help but laugh.

“I see now. It’s not just my wife that misses me, but my little whore,” he brings the belt down and it clashes with the backs of your bare thighs. You yelp and he pushes you further into the room.

“I need you,” you whimper and look up at him through long eyelashes.

He grips your throat hard, sending pulsing need to your clit as he backs you up against a wall.

“Where are the files?” He asks again, his mouth near your ear now.

“Not until I get what I want,” you pout and reach for his crotch. He seizes your wrist and pins it to the wall.

“Fine,” he huffs.

He reaches upward and brings leather cuffs down which are suspended to the ceiling above.

He suspends you there, your ass just barely touching the cherry wood wall behind you. This room, all fine crafted wood, soft carpet, and many surfaces for fucking. You had designed it together. You loved it.

You watch him move over to a rack of toys and grab a spreader bar, ah shit.

He latches each side to your ankles and spreads you as wide as your legs will go. You’re barely on your tip toes now.

He slowly unbuttons his shirt as his eyes darken, you watch him shift into the headspace you want him in. A primal look in his eyes that makes your mouth drool.

His shirt falls free and his slacks hang low on his hips, giving you a view of his perfect body and his hard cock straining against his pants. You whimper but you can’t move.

He brandishes a wand with a wicked grin and turns it on.

He approaches you but he doesn’t touch you at all. He won’t give you the satisfaction after what you did. He brings the head of the vibrator wand to your pussy and presses hard. You let out a restrained moan and try to move but you can’t. The raw sensation overwhelming, and you can’t close your legs around it.

“Fuck!” You scream as your body starts to shake. “Please,” you’re begging him to touch you. You need him.

He shakes his head as he watches you take it, his mouth agape. Your climax is building, winding painfully tight in the pit of your stomach. Your moans turn to screams and then…

He pulls away. You deflate in the restraints and glare at him.

“Where are the files,” he demands.

Your body is on fire, shaking with need.

“You’re not cumming until I know,” he crosses his strong arms. You shake your head, stubbornly.

“Fine,” he brings his belt up and wraps it around your throat.

It’s loose at first, the belt buckle allowing it to act as a slip knot. The long part of the belt hangs down your back.

He yanks it hard and it tightens around your throat. You fucking love it, you struggle to breath until your vision darkens and the he releases it. You gasp for air just as he brings the wand back to your throbbing pussy.

“Please,” you howl and then he pushes the wand harder against you as he tightens the belt once more.

Again, you reach the precipice of your orgasm and he stops, allowing you to breathe too.

“Fuck, Spencer!” You grind out.

“That wasn’t a safe word. And I still don’t know where my files are. Tell me. I’ll make you cum like the slut you are if you just fess up,” he taunts as he drags the head of the vibrator over your nipples. Arousal drips down your thighs.

“The library, one of the bookshelves on the left,” you pant at hang your head.

He gives you a cocky grin but drops to his knees before you.

He kneels between your legs and stares into your eyes. Then he’s sliding his tongue into your cunt greedily until you’re crying out his name. You try to rock against him but the restraints give you no leverage.

He presses the wand against your clit as he angels himself better to tongue fuck your pussy.

“Fuck!” You scream which prompts him to grab the belt and tighten it.

The sensations are too much, too good. His face is buried in you, the belt chocking you, the wand massaging your clit… you can’t even see straight as you violently begin to shake.

You erupt and you know you’ve squirted. He releases the belt just as your vision blackens and allows you to scream. He discards the wand and grips your hips as he sucks on your pussy like it gives him life. Your cum is pouring down his chin and chest below you, making his skin glisten.

Fuck, he’s so beautiful.

You could never get enough of him.

“Such a good girl for me,” he kisses your forehead as he carries you to bed. “Rest now,” he whispers as he tucks you in.

You almost protest, wanting to have sex but your body is limp with exhaustion from the edging and the orgasm that followed.

He disappears to the library to retrieve the files and return to work.

[pookieace]

✰ . . . minors do not interact !

✰ . . . just over 1k of filth that includes stepcest, stepdad!gojo, dads best friend!nanami, perv gojo, perv nanamin giggles, recording without consent, spying, implied agegap, gojo is a menace as usual. um yeah i need them both. eiffel tower if you will– anyways!! this isn't proofread sorry not sorry. i'm lazy and this has been running around in my head for days.

step dad gojo and his single best friend nanami. both a little bit messed up in the head, satoru more than kento but...

they have regular jerk off sessions to you. whether gojo is convincing nanami to spy on you with him while you're in the shower, or even while you touch yourself. nanami knows it's wrong. you're satoru's daughter. in fact, satoru is in the wrong as well, even more in the wrong than nanami given he's your father, but you're just so damn pretty. it's gotten so bad, became a habit that he hates, that he doesn't think twice about rubbing his growing bulge over his pants as he watches you.

you're so... oblivious, wandering around your room, closing the windows and shutting the blinds before you start to unbutton your pyjama shirt, thinking you're in the comfort of your room. so oblivious that you don't even notice the little camera set up in your bookshelf. satoru was proud of himself for the placement of the camera, it gives the perfect view of your bed.

your stepdad knows your routine by now. what time you wake up, what you have for breakfast and what time you leave for work. he also knows once you're done with dinner and load up the dishwasher, you bid him goodnight and head into your room to touch yourself. satoru isn't quite sure how he started to perv on you like this but it just can't stop. perhaps it's the taboo nature of it that really turns him on, or maybe it's just because you're just so... delicious. so damn pretty and you look so soft all over. if he doesn't get caught, it's not a crime right? and somehow he's dragged his own coworker, his best friend, into the whole ordeal too. nanami's grown used to your routine too, coming straight to satoru's place after work.

they both watch on from satoru's room on the screen as your shirt falls from your shoulders and hits the floor, like they're predators watching their prey. the first glimpse of your round tits have them going crazy already. gojo's smiling, waiting rather patiently, not touching himself just yet but nanami's already fully hard, cock straining against his work pants.

gojo finds it cute how quick you work, laughing under his breath a little as he sees your pants on the floor and your underwear pulled to the side within mere minutes. meanwhile nanami curses, he always forgets just how clear the camera quality is. nothing will beat the up close and personal view but this? it's all he has, and it's almost as good.

soon they both find themselves with their cocks in their hands, attempting to fuck their fists at the same pace your fingers go in and out of you, thinking about how the ring of cream around the base of your fingers should be around the base of their cocks, how your juices should be all over them. nanami's so caught up in watching you through the screen that he doesn't realise when gojo's free hand wraps around his own, covering the entirety of his with how large it is.

"keep watchin', kento. just keep watchin'." gojo starts, and nanami just lets it happen. he accepts it, removing his hand away so gojo's jerking him off. it's rough, it's messy, shlick shlick shlick echoing through the room as nanami bucks his hips into his best friends fist.

you're now burying your face into your pillow, legs threatening to close every second as you get closer and closer to your orgasm. your thighs are wet, splashes of your wetness on your sheets as you fuck yourself a bit harder, a little bit faster.

all this does is fuel gojo and nanami's sick, twisted brains. "hhah–ah... dontcha just wanna hold her legs open?" nanami isn't sure if it's meant to be a rhetorical question or not. they usually don't talk when they watch you like this. it's nothing but heavy grunts and groans and the sickening sounds of their fists working their cocks. satoru has never spoken to him before.

"i do." gojo's voice fills the silence. "i jus'... mmmffuuck... i wanna see her cunt throb on my cock– her fathers cock as she cums. she'd look so fucking cute cummin' f'me. ya think she's as tight as she looks, kento?"

silence...

is he allowed to reply? should he reply? this is his best friends daughter... he can't. nanami's throat feels dry at the thought of even trying to speak. what if he offends him? what if he's not allowed to spy on you like this anymore? what if–

"c'mon kento." gojo speaks, giving the mushroomed tip of nanami's cock a couple of squeezes that have the younger man hissing through his teeth. "answer me, won't ya? you wanna fuck my daughter? wanna bury your fat cock in 'er cunt? stretch it riiight out and watch her cream on it? just talk t'me. say yes. i know you wanna." it's as if he's being tempted by the devil. like he's eve and he's being tempted to eat the apple by the snake. satoru's words have his head spinning and he shakily exhales before replying, hands gripping his scrunched up work pants that are halfway down his thighs.

"y-yes... i do, satoru."

"aaatta boy. knew you were as sick as me."

the sight of you rubbing your clit and fingering yourself getting closer to orgasm with satoru's praise and the grip around his cock have nanami's head spinning more and more, and the second he sees you cover your mouth and your thighs shake, it triggers his own high. nanami's cum spurts all over gojo's hand and wrist in ribbons, shooting up and landing on his dress shirt as well. then finally, gojo cums as well, almost as hard as his best friend by the amount of cum dripping from his cock and pooling at the base, coating the wispy hairs.

the room is full of breathless pants as the two men attempt to catch their breath, watching you take your fingers out and try to fight the urge to fall asleep then and there. and then gojo's asking the same question he always asks nanami after it's all done.

"same time tomorrow?"

yes i'm sick and deranged but if you read it then you're out here matching my freak kiss kiss mwah mwah <3

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Dark Shades of Innocence Lost Part 2: The First Taste✨

Club owner! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist Part 1

A/N: It is finally here! Sorry that has taken so long to get updated, but this turned out exactly how I wanted it to. Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me organize my mood board and for letting me chat your ear off about this series! ���

Chapter Summary: You decide to go back to Club Inferno, back to those smoldering brown eyes. Turns out you do want more pleasure from Joel, the club owner.

Rating: 18+ Only MDNI

Word Count: 11.7k

Chapter Tags: Oral (M/F receiving), fingering, dirty talk, pining, flirting, some fluff, pleasure dom! Joel, reader has doubts, reader has hair, no use of y/n, pleasure dom! Joel

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

You spend the next few days at work in a deep haze, your mind completely muddled at the thought of those smoldering dark eyes that haunt your dreams night after night. You can’t concentrate on reorganizing books, can’t focus on your own co-workers as they meander around the library keeping busy while you stand leaning up against a wooden bookshelf doing nothing but looking at the business card Joel gave you. 

   You mindlessly turn the flashy card over and over in your palm, memorizing his phone number, etching his name into your mind as you read his name over and over and over again until the silhouette of his towering body is burned into your brain. You didn’t call, didn’t text him like you should have done after he made you cum on his thigh. God, you want to though. But is it a good idea? Probably not. 

   As you shift the paper card around your fingers, you think of those lust blown eyes, that rugged panting noise he made when he was breathing hard against the shell of your ear, the way those thick fingers felt inside you, the way he called you a good girl and whispered how fucking good you tasted. 

   You slip the card back into the pocket of your jeans and lean your head back against some hardback books in the science section. You huff out and put a hand to your sweating forehead as you fight not to get all worked up again, but it doesn’t work. You’re already wet from thinking about him, so you decide you will see him again. Friday. You’ll go back to the club Friday. 

   You want more, need more. And so you’ll have him. Friday. 

   Your dress flows to the middle of your thighs, the sparkly midnight blue material shimmering under the dim lights of the club as soon as you walk through the front doors of Club Inferno. The bar is crowded, people scattered all around as loud music blares through the speakers. The dance floor is packed, bodies spinning under the crystal lights of the disco ball. Your heart gallops in your chest, your mouth dry as you hope he’s here. Please be here, please be here. 

   You turn toward the lit up bar that’s packed with alcohol lining the back mirrored wall and notice something is different, off. You scan your eyes around and try to decipher what’s changed as you take in the aesthetics of the night club. You peel your eyes over the atmosphere carefully, and you stop in place when you notice it. There’s not just heated red signs around the back walls anymore. There’s now pink ones too, glittering under the dim lights as you furrow your eyebrows up. When did they add the pink signs? Your eyes grow wide at the realization. You mentioned pink signs and how there was too much red last time. He must’ve listened to you…

   The pretty blonde bartender snaps you out of your deep thoughts as she gets your attention. “Need a drink, hun?” she asks as she sets two big glasses of beer in front of two gentlemen in suits in front of you. 

   “Oh, no. Thanks. I was just wondering if Joel was around?” you ask nervously as you look shamefully at her. Hopefully she doesn’t see your cheeks heating up or notice how sweaty your palms are at your sides. 

   She nods her head behind you and smiles as she says, “He’s actually right behind you.”

   You look up at the mirrored wall behind the stacked alcohol bottles and gasp when you see a pair of dark eyes flash in your reflection. You quickly turn around and nearly fall over when you see how handsome he looks tonight. A red button-up collared shirt , sleeves rolled up to the elbows to expose tanned skin with corded veins spiraling down his forearms, clean pressed jeans, and slicked back curls that are threaded with grey. He’s so… gorgeous.

   His eyes flick over your body as he rakes a hand slowly through his salt-and-pepper scruff, analyzing your dress, your legs, your eyes. You’re nearly out of breath as he glances your way. “Didn’t think I was gonna hear from you again,” he smiles as he walks up in front of you and stops right where you can smell his woodsy cologne and whiskey scent. He smells so enticing, you could practically swim in the scent if you wanted to. 

   You shrug and let a sigh out. “Couldn’t keep me away, I guess.”

   “Mmm, guess not.” His honey colored eyes trail over your skin again as he smirks and nods toward the bar. “You want a drink?”

   “Okay,” you say quietly as he leads you over to some empty black barstools. You know what a drink will lead to, and it makes your skin simmer with lightning running through your veins. 

   Joel gets the blonde’s attention, and she saunters over and smiles brightly over at him. “What’ll it be, Joel?”

   “Glass of whiskey on the rocks and a Malibu tonic?” His eyebrow arches as he looks over at you, needing approval before he sends her off. You just nod and watch as he gives her the go ahead, letting the smooth bar top rub against your fingertips as you view him turn slowly in his barstool, bumping his knee lightly against yours.

   “You remembered my drink of choice?” you ask with raised brows. 

   “Thought I’d forget, hmm?” He leans forward as he puts his weight into his elbow, resting his hand on his cheek as it trails over his greying scruff. You can’t believe you’re sitting here with him again, almost in the same position you were in last weekend. It’s almost too much. His broadness, his height, the way he’s staring at you. 

   You adjust in your seat, pulling down the fabric of your dress as you clear your throat. “I dunno. Just kind of hard to believe you’d remember something as simple as that about me.”

   He assesses you, watching you carefully as his dark eyes flick over your nervous form. “Drinks are simple, easy to remember. It’s you that’s hard to forget. Your face, your eyes, your scent.” 

   Your eyes grow wide, suffocating on your own breath as the pounding music flits through your ears, your skin forming goosebumps along your inner thighs as those dark eyes gaze into yours, his full attention on you. “My… scent?” you ask all wide-eyed with your mouth slightly agape.

   “Mhm. I could smell that pretty waft of vanilla when you were standing by the bar. Almost like I was breathing you in,” he murmurs, his voice all low and gruff as his thick fingers tap against the glossy bar top, his eyes melding into yours like he wants to devour you. 

   You can feel that thick tension like smoke filling the room, hot embers filing your nostrils as you fight to compose yourself. You lean forward just a bit, enough to brush your knee against his smooth denim, stirring something low that you can’t quite stop. 

   Before he can lean in, the bartender comes back with your drinks, breaking the tension that was just close enough to drown in. “Enjoy!” She smiles as she leaves to attend to other guests. 

   You take the straw in your hand, twirling it around the sloshing alcohol and then take a sip, letting the fruity taste wash away your growing arousal between your thighs. 

   Joel surprises you as he asks a personal question, maybe something to break the tension as he looks up from his amber glass of whiskey. “So, what do you do for work?” 

   You knit your eyebrows together and swallow another mouthful of the fruity liquid as you eye him suspiciously. He wants to know where you work? Interesting. “I work at the library. Austin Central Library. I’m a librarian.”

   He smiles gently your way, eyes all glistening as flecks of dark brown irises crinkle up at you. It’s a softer smile, not the menacing smirk he usually gives you. This one is different. “Should’ve guessed. A book lover who’s also smart? Figures,” he chuckles as he takes a generous gulp of his whiskey. “Say I come in there one day. Would you assist me in helpin’ me find some books? Maybe some classics? Books that maybe others don’t check out as often?”

   He raises a brow at you, a glint in his beautiful honey eyes as you laugh and play nervously with the bendy straw that sits in your almost untouched drink. “I mean, I would. Seems like you already know your way around though,” you smirk. 

   He chuckles and shakes his head. “Yeah, reckon I do.”     

   A loose curl falls over his eye, a strand that looks so soft to the touch. You almost push it back, so close while your hovering hand sits above your tan thigh, almost pushing the limits into other dangerous territory. 

   You clear your head of the ridiculous notion and push yourself back, watching as he moves the curl away himself. That was a close one. 

   You tap your long nails on the side of your glass and try your luck. “I was surprised to learn you were the owner of this club.”

   He smirks your way and laughs. “Yeah?”

   “You do this often? Pick up pretty girls at work and take them back to the dark hallway?” Your eyes narrow while he just shakes his head and laughs. 

   “No, can’t say that I do. You just caught my attention. I jus’ had to talk to you, at least. You were just so… stunning. Couldn’t pass you up.”

   Oh. 

   Your cheeks burn hot, crimson tinging the skin as you take another large gulp of your alcoholic beverage. You need to calm down. He’s just a guy. He’s probably like the rest of them, but something deep down tells you he’s not. 

   “How long have you been in the business?” you ask as you swirl the straw around the melting ice cubes. 

   “A few years. My brother, Tommy, joined the business with me. We still do contracting together on the side, but this is my main gig.”

   Contracting? He was a contractor? Fuck, can he get any hotter? 

   “Contractor, huh?” you ask curiously as your eyes light up with interest. 

   “That’s right. I like buildin’ things, makin’ things with my hands. It’s sort of relaxin’ to me. The way I can jus’ put together somethin’, imagine anything I want and jus’ build it from scratch. It’s probably my favorite hobby, honestly.”

   You find yourself hovering over the clean bar top, leaning against your elbow as you find yourself dreamily gazing at him. You gawk at his crooked smile, stare at the indented dimple in his left cheek as you get lost in his words, in his lively expressions. His low voice is so melodious that you think you could listen to him talk about his hobbies all night long. Maybe even over dinner, at his house, curled up in his lap…

   You shake yourself out of your hypnotic daze and smooth your dress out. You shouldn’t get close to anyone. Not after your ex, not after that horrible, horrific…

   “Hey, you good?” Joel asks, stirring you out of your hazy thoughts. 

   “What?” you ask confused as you come back to reality. 

   “You jus’ looked a little lost there for a second. You alright?” His voice is gentle, deep, and his large hand is even warmer as it glides over the top of your thigh, his touch soothing you back down from dark thoughts you shouldn’t be turning to. 

   “Oh, yeah. Sorry. You were saying?”

   He looks at you hesitantly, his eyes flicking over you quickly to assess that you’re really alright, but your small smile reassures him as he continues on. 

   Your eyes flicker over the flashy signs, the pink hue reflecting off the scarlet red ones, giving it just the right mix of a perfect combination. He sees you staring, and his lips curl up into a big grin as he raises his eyebrows. “What’s got your attention, hmm?” he asks as he looks over at the sparkling pink sign you’re staring at. 

   “The signs. There’s pink ones now, not just red…” Your voice catches on a whisper, almost being drowned out by the blaring pop song that booms through the speakers, but he still hears you. 

   “Oh, those. Yeah, some pretty little thing complained that there was too much red. Said I should throw some  pink in there. Stubborn thing, a bit moody, but glad I listened to her. It doesn’t look half bad.” He winks at you, and suddenly your heart is in your throat, pumping and making you gasp as he smirks your way with a knowing look in his eyes. 

   You take your chance to flirt, leaning forward as your fingertips hover over the top of his knee. “Didn’t think you’d listen to me after I was complaining the whole time. Didn’t know I was talking to the owner of the club. You could’ve just kicked me out,” you say with a curt laugh.

   He leans forward just a tad, the tops of his calloused fingers laying gently on the top of your thigh as you gasp in response to the heat of his touch. “Sweetheart, now why on earth would I kick you out? You clearly had an affect on me, otherwise I would’ve kept the signs the way they were. And besides,” he leans forward and places his mouth against the shell of your ear, his hot breath dancing across your skin, causing goosebumps to rise. “I wouldn’t have gotten to make you cum on my thigh if I would’ve done that.”

   Your breath hitches, your body coming to life as you feel the nerve endings light up against his touch, his breath, his smell. Suddenly, you want more, need more. And maybe he’ll give it to you, just maybe…

   “Why’d you come back here?” he whispers in the crest of your ear, his voice falling like drops of water against your heated skin, showering you in a mist of desire. “I don’t think it’s to socialize or find another guy, not even to sit back and grab a drink at the bar.”

   You feel his hand ghost over the edge of your hip, his palm hovering over the small of your back as you fight to keep yourself together. “No,” you hum, voice lilting like a fresh rose as your fingertips dig into the denim of his thigh. 

   His lips slide against your jawline, his whiskey breath fogging your mind as he whispers back to you in a deep, gravelly tone. “So, why’d you come back, angel? You want somethin’ else from me? Want me to give you more pleasure, more ecstasy?” 

   His gruff voice slides through your body, making the inside of your thighs press together as you feel the sticky slick drip against your lace. He hasn’t even gotten his hands on you tonight, and you’re already drowning in him. 

   You grab hold of his button-up, clinging to his silky fabric as you feel his coarse scruff drag against the edge of your cheek. You can smell him, almost taste the whiskey dripping down the back of his throat. And you want to taste it, feel it between your legs. 

   “I… Joel,” you whimper as his other hand trails up your thigh, dragging those thick, calloused fingers up up up until he’s raising the hem of your dress, just enough to drag a low groan from your throat. 

   “Yeah, s’that right?” he purrs as his lips meet the shell of your ear again. 

   You hold in a moan as his fingertips trace circles over your heated skin, his hand sliding up to skim the inside of the crease of your thigh, eliciting tingles that start low in your stomach. You want it, want him. “Joel,” you whisper, only low enough for him to hear as you cling harder to his button-up.

   “Gotta use your words, darlin’,” he chuckles. “Now, tell me. You want me to take you to the back? Give you more than last time? ‘Cause I’d sure love to taste you, really taste you,” he smirks. 

   “Are you gonna put me on your thigh again?” you ask breathlessly while his lips trace dangerously over the crest of your ear. 

   “No, angel. Not this time. Gonna show you somethin’ else. Gonna put my mouth between those pretty legs of yours,” he chuckles while his eyes darken with danger and temptation. 

   A wave of slick washes over you, and you’re already dripping at the anticipation of having his tongue swallow you whole. 

   “So, that what you want? Want me to show you how truly good I can make you feel?”

   You’re nearly pulling him toward you with how strong your grip on him is as you nod your head up and down like an eager puppy. “Mhm. Please,” you respond with a complacent whine. 

   He laughs and pulls you out of your seat, keeping his fingers entangled with yours as he grabs his glass of whiskey and drags you along. “C’mon then. Let’s go get ya taken care of.”

   He guides you through the dancing crowd, pushing through sweaty bodies as the bass fills your insides, the loud music mixing together with the nerves pulling down your spine as you follow him into the unknown. 

   The glittery dark walls turn into a narrow hallway as couples making out against the crowded walls step aside when they see Joel. They gawk at him and whisper quiet slurs as you pass them by, probably wishing they were you at this very moment. 

   He looks back at you and smirks, his grip on you tightening, the shadows making the dark brown flecks in his eyes look almost black. As black as a panther’s fur, eyes that want to pounce and consume you whole. And that just makes your heart hammer loudly against your chest as you stare back into those dreamy pools of desire.

   He takes you to the last door at the end of the dark hallway, painted crimson red as he twists the lavish golden handle and presses through, leading you in as he quietly closes it behind him and turns the lock to where no one else can get in. You gulp and try to take a slow breath, but the nerves seem to be crushing down on your lungs. You’re typically quite eloquent, but try as you might, you can’t seem to place what it is you’re feeling. Nervous. Excited. Absolutely panicked. You want this but your mind and body seem to be at odds.

   When you turn around, your mouth parts open as you take in the massive room. A large leather couch sits in the middle, a long pool table with red smooth felt coating the top of it sits in the right hand corner. The lights are dim, a lit fireplace sits crackling next to the leather couch, the walls glisten with shimmering black wallpaper, and the feel of the room is homey, warm, private. You can still hear the pounding music and occasional chants of club goers, but it’s mostly quiet in here. The only thing you can hear is the rushing of blood through your eardrums, your heart right along with it. 

   He lingers by the doorframe, adjusting his sleeves as he carefully rolls them up to his elbows, his smoldering eyes never leaving yours. Suddenly you’re a hot mess, fingers twisting against the hem of your blue dress, your eyes blown wide as you feel your chest tighten at the thought of being alone with him. Joel Miller. The club owner, the absolute menace who was sent to break into your closed up boundaries. 

   “Where do you want me?” you ask breathlessly.

   He stalks toward you, a sly smirk on his face as he starts to back you up toward the leather couch. You have no room to go around, no way to say no, your body just moves pliantly at his command as his thick fingers push gently against your hips. 

   “On the couch, sweetheart. Right. Here.” He gently pushes you down as you land in a heap on the plush couch. You scoot back, your legs sliding easily over the black leather as you squeeze your thighs together and dig your fingers into the edge of the new material. 

   You’re suddenly so nervous as sweat pools against the back of your neck, your lips trembling as you watch him take a generous gulp of his amber colored whiskey. You watch the way he moves, his bulging biceps clinging to his button-up, his slicked back curls throwing smoky grey colors under the dim lighting as he turns slowly, ending right between your legs. 

   He slowly bends down, running his calloused fingers languidly over the curve of your thighs. Your body tenses up, fingers digging into the slick material as your breath hitches at the sight of that smug smirk he has pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

   He tries to part your legs, but you hold back, afraid to show him what you look like bare. What if he doesn’t like what he sees, what if he suddenly changes his mind, what if he tells you to leave? Suddenly, you’re overstimulated by all the unknowns, and you can barely stand to look into his dark eyes as your own gazes toward the black polished floors. 

   As if he can sense your blinding fears and see right through your insecurities, his blown out eyes ease up, his eyebrows knitting together as he stares up at you with a look of encouragement. He cups your chin and makes you gaze up, right into the pits of his softening eyes. 

   “Hey,” he says with a gentle voice. “You nervous?”

   You stumble over your words and just nod, letting the gut wrenching feeling slide down your closed up throat. “Mhm,” you nod slowly. 

   His lips curl up into a gentle smile, and it takes the breath out of you as his dimple caves into the middle of his cheek. One hand lingers on the top of your thigh, and the other grazes softly underneath your chin. “You don’t gotta be nervous now, sweetheart. Jus’ relax, breathe.”

   You take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, starting to relax every limb in your body as you cautiously release your fingers from the edge of the couch and lay them by the hem of your sparkly dress. 

   “There ya go, angel. Jus’ breathe. Can ya do that for me?” You nod your head, and he chuckles lightly. “Good. Now, wanna tell me what’s got ya all nervous?”

   You try to look down, but he keeps his hand rested underneath your chin. You squirm a little, shuffling your hips against the squeaky leather, but he stills your body underneath him with his large palm. Your eyes shift up to his, and there’s no escaping those soft chocolate eyes that seem to stare straight into the depths of your shaking soul.

   “I just… I haven’t really. I’m not…” Fuck. You can’t even think straight, let alone speak without making a fool of yourself. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe…

   He presses his calloused fingers softly against your jawline and furrows his eyebrows as he assesses your stiff features. “Have you ever had anyone go down on you before?” His words are so gentle, not at all condescending which makes you unclench your jaw just a tad. 

   “I mean, a couple of times, but it wasn’t anything special. Maybe just a few seconds. They didn’t actually make me feel good. I think it was just so they could slide in. It wasn’t for my benefit, guess you could say. So no, I guess I really haven’t,” you mutter as you pout your bottom lip out. 

   His brows knit together in a tight line, his jaw ticking as he looks at you with a soft gaze. His fingertips leave your chin, and you feel like you’ve just lost a clutch on yourself, but his fingertips land softly on your wrist instead. “Well, that’s a real shame. They must be fuckin’ blind to pass up a girl like you. A real fuckin’ shame, but don’t worry, angel, I’m gonna make you feel so good. I can promise you that. You want that?”

   You eagerly nod your head up and down as your words tumble out of your mouth. “Yes, Joel. Please.” Maybe you’re a little too eager because you wrap your fingers firmly around his wrist like you're digging your roots into the tan of skin.  

   He chuckles lightly and smiles up at you, the dark flecks of his eyes seeming to sparkle under the dimly lit lights of the private room. “You gonna relax for me?”

   “Mhm,” you hum out. 

   “Attagirl,” he winks. You nearly choke on your own saliva at the sound of him saying Attagirl. It’s a simple word, but he’s telling you what a good girl you’re being, and it sends butterflies flitting through your lower belly. 

   His fingertips start to graze up and down the tops of your thighs, his calloused thumbs dipping down to your inner thighs as he starts to massage the area tenderly. You know what he’s doing, know what he’s capable of doing as he looks up at you with hungry, dark eyes. He wants to devour you, and you sure as hell aren’t going to say no to him. The hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on wants you. And you sure as hell want him, too. 

   “Need a little liquid courage to relax a little, hmm?” he asks as he cocks one eyebrow up, his head turning to the side as he looks at you with curious eyes. 

   “It wouldn’t hurt,” you shrug. 

   “Alright then, angel. Tip your head back jus’ a little. Gonna give ya a taste of my whiskey,” he says with a sultry tone. 

   You do as he says, tipping your head back just an inch as you watch him get up from the corner of your eye. He grabs his glass of amber whiskey, swirling it around as the ice hits the edge of the clear cup, making a clinking noise that sounds a lot like how your insides feel. All tingly and alive with nerves pulling low in your gut. 

   “Tip your head a little more, that’s it,” he approves as he places a hand under your chin and coaxes your lips open with his calloused thumb. “Keep that pretty mouth open now.”

   You watch him tip his own head back, taking a large gulp of his whiskey on the rocks. Your eyes grow wide when you see him leaning over you as his thumb pulls your mouth open wider. He lets the alcohol pool out of his mouth like a running faucet, flowing down through your own mouth as the whiskey and the taste of his saliva mix together while it slides slowly down the back of your throat. 

   “Swallow,” he instructs as he closes your mouth, still hovering over you as he watches you down his taste. You feel the burn simmer through your stomach, taste him on the tip of your tongue as his woodsy cologne sends you into a hazy fog where all you can see is him as his dark eyes begin to grow black. 

   “Good girl,” he praises. Your mouth gawks open as he sinks back down to the floor, situating himself between the center of your legs as he slowly begins to part them. 

   He clicks his tongue as he sees your body sewn to the back of the couch. “Now, angel, can’t reach ya all the way back there. C’mere.” 

   He pulls you to the edge of the leather couch, the palms of his calloused hands latching onto the backs of your thighs. And then he’s parting them, running his fingers nice and slow up the inside of your thighs until he’s hiking the bottom of your dress up over your hips.

   You can’t breathe, your voice being held back by the drowned out whines and moans you’re already holding back. You know you’re going to fall apart as soon as his large tongue meets your center, and he’s going to devour you, lick you clean till you have nothing left to give because you just have this feeling that he’ll work you and work you and work you till you’re fully gone. And it nearly drowns out the pulsing energy flowing through your ears. 

   He drags his lips against your skin, sending trails of kisses up the insides of your thighs as you suck in a breath from the tingling sensations he’s sending straight to your core. He drags his lips higher, lifting your skirt flush over your thighs as he pulls you closer to him while his breath blows gently over your clothed core.

   “Look at you, already soakin’ for me,” he purrs as he drags the tip of his curved nose against your clothed folds. Fuck. You hold in a whine, bucking your hips forward as you silently beg him to keep going. 

   He chuckles out at your response, his dark eyes smoldering as he takes the tip of his thumb and starts to slowly caress your soaked folds. He gauges your reaction, your wide eyes and panting mouth as he starts to circle your clit slowly through the dripping lace. 

   “Joellll,” you whine out, your manicured nails digging into the leather of the couch. 

   “Yeah? Does it feel good,” he teases as he presses harder against your buzzing bundle of nerves. 

   “Mhm, need more. Need you to…”

   “Shhh. I’ve got ya, angel. Jus’ gettin’ ya nice and worked up. Want you drippin’ for me. Want this pretty pussy messy and sticky so I can drink you down like a bottle of sweet whiskey,” he purrs with mischief written all over those syrupy brown eyes. 

   Before you can speak, he takes his tongue and runs it slowly over your clothed core, soaking your ruined lace as you stifle out a moan and buck your hips forward. “Joel, please,” you beg as your heels dig into the surface of the dark floor. 

   “That’s what I thought,” he teases as his dark eyes shift up toward you. “Now, let’s get these off ya, shall we?” He pulls your lacy panties down your legs and over your high heeled stilettos, bunching up the ruined material and shoving them deep into the pocket of his jeans. 

   He spreads you wide, your pussy on full display as he sits back on his heels and gawks at you, sliding his palm over his silvery scruff as his eyes blow out wide. He groans, long and deep as he takes in the sight of your dripping core. You can barely breathe as you watch him take you in nice and slow, his eyes alight with fire you want to dip your fingertips into. 

   “Goddamn. You’re fuckin’ perfect, angel. Look at that pretty pink pussy. Drippin’ and soppin’ jus’ for me, ain’t that right?” He smirks, eyes blowing out into black pits as he leans back down and starts spreading your thighs, his meaty hands holding you down while his cool breath blows over your sensitive center. 

   You squirm underneath him, feeling sweat pool beneath your long locks as you watch him become mesmerized with your glistening, sticky core. “Joel,” you whisper, barely making a sound as you try to hold yourself back from crushing his face to your center. 

   “Mmm, yeah. You’re such a messy girl, think I need to clean you up,” he purrs as his thumb lightly traces over your sticky folds. 

   “Please,”you beg as you groan out with need. “Your mouth, Joel. I need it,” you whine.

   “Yeah, ya do,” he smirks. The next thing you know, he’s leaning down and licking a thick, clean stripe all the way from your dripping hole to the tops of your curls above your glistening mound. You moan, body writhing beneath him as he takes his meaty hands and holds your hips still. 

   “You taste so fuckin’ sweet, angel. Jus’ hold on. Let me take care of this pretty pussy.”

   He dives back in, his thick fingers spreading your folds wide as he devours you whole. His tongue languidly slides up and down, collecting drops of slick as he works you nice and slow. Your hips cant up every time his large tongue glides over your buzzing mound, feeling the electric zaps of lightning shooting down your spine when he takes his time and drowns himself in your messy pussy. 

   He works and works and works you over, drawing meticulous circles around your puffy clit while your eyes roll back, and you toss your head back in full elation. You can feel the energy coursing through your body, feel that aching desire being fed as he feeds on you, flicking his tongue up and down ravenously until you swear you see stars in your vision. 

   You tangle your fingers into his greying locks, hear him groan under your hold as you fight to keep a grip on yourself. You’re so close to spilling, so close to elated bliss as your body hums beneath your skin. 

   “Eyes on me, angel. Wanna see those beautiful eyes. Watch me, wanna see you fall apart against my tongue,” he purrs as he licks another long stripe up the center of your folds.

   When you snap your eyes open, they go wide as you look at the hungry beast of a man beneath you. He looks completely wrecked, black blown eyes searing into your gaze, his beard dripping in your glistening arousal, his rough tongue working your aching bundle of nerves while his large hands hold your thighs down, making sure you do cum beneath his tongue. 

   You’re a panting mess, high pitched moans drowning out the blaring music from the other side of the club while you feel yourself start to break. Another wave of slick hits his tongue, and you’re fighting everything inside you to hold on just a little longer.

   “Don’t hold back, sweetheart. Wanna see you, wanna taste you. C’mon now, give it to me,” he growls. He pulls your puffy clit into his mouth and sucks, firing off every single nerve ending in your body until you can’t hold on anymore. You’re gone. 

   “Joel - fuck,” you moan as you feel the tingling sensations run flush down your spine, igniting fireworks in your mind that make you dizzy, and then you’re spilling yourself all over him. Slick builds on his tongue, and he groans while he laps up every bit of it while he growls good girl through the pleasurable licks. He keeps you there till there’s not a hint of slick left between your thighs, he eats you up like a ravenous dog that’s starving for you. 

   When he’s finished, he looks up and smirks at you with a mischievous smile. “How was that, angel? Did I make you feel good?”

   You nod your head up and down slowly. “So good. I’ve never felt anything quite like that,” you pant out as he chuckles up at you. 

   “Well, that’s good. ‘Cause I’m not done with you yet,” he smirks.

   “What?” you ask with wide eyes. Not done with you yet? 

   “Oh no, angel. That was one orgasm. You’re gonna give me another one.”

   “Another one? But I…”

   “Know you have more in you, sweetheart. Let me get you there, let me make you lose control.”

   He slides you forward, holding your hip down with one of his meaty hands while his other starts to play with your sensitive mound. “I can make you cum in so many ways. This time I’ll take you through with my fingers, know exactly where to get ya,” he smirks, his blown out eyes looking like black pits of desire, a pit you’ll gladly follow him into. 

   You pant out in a needy whine, watching him drag his middle and ring fingers down your folds, and then shoving them deep into your dripping hole. “Oh,” you moan as he bends his fingers and reaches that spongy, soft spot that makes slick collect on his drenched knuckles. 

   “Yeah? Feel good?” he asks with a smug smirk on that handsome face, your release still sticking through his greying threads throughout his beard. The sight of it makes you drip more for him, panting out a moan when you respond.

   “Mhm, Joel. Feels - so good,” you murmur as you dig your nails into the shoulder of his crimson shirt. 

   “Mmm, that’s what I like to hear,” he responds while licking his lower lip seductively. 

   He pushes the back of his thumb into your buzzing clit, drawing slow, meticulous circles while his other fingers pump in and out of you, drawing wet, squelching noises out of you that just seem to turn him on even more. 

   “C’mon, angel. Tell me how good I’m makin’ ya feel,” he purrs as he continues pulverizing your needy pussy. 

   “So fucking good. Oh my god, Joel,” you whine as he bathes you in pure ecstasy, coating you in desires you didn’t even know you had in you. All you know is you want more, need more of him. 

   “Mmm, that’s good, angel. Wanna make you cum again,” he growls as his dark, blown out eyes tear into your whimpering soul. 

   “Please, Joel. Feels so good. Your fingers, your… fuck,” you whine as he ruts up into you, pushing on that sweet, spongy area that makes slick drip down his huge knuckles. 

   He chuckles, speeding up his meticulous circles of your clit and thrusting his fingers deep inside your messy hole. The wet noises of his calloused fingers brushing up into you are sinful, filling you to the brim until you can barely hold yourself back. You’re about to cum again, but this time feels much different than the last. 

   “C’mon now, messy girl. Spill for me, soak me,” he growls as his fingers move faster in and out of you, continuously tormenting you with how fucking good you feel beneath his touch. 

   “Joel, I’m gonna… gonna…”

   “Give it to me,” he demands with the bite of his snarl and blown out black pupils. 

   One more hit to your spongy walls and he’s knocking the orgasm out of you. His thumb stays clenched down on your throbbing clit, and your orgasm washes through you like a raging hurricane that destroys whole cities with its powerful riptides. You spill yourself, experiencing a new sensation that almost overpowers you as it takes you on the ride of your life. You start squirting, your elated moans filling the emptiness of the room as you release hot, damp slick all over his crimson button-up. 

   “Oh fuck yeah, angel. That’s a good fuckin’ girl. Goddamn,” he praises as his fingers slowly massage your insides, working out your mind blowing orgasm as you fight to keep yourself upright. 

   The arousal glistens on his salt-and-pepper scruff, slick coating the front of his soft material, while he’s knuckles deep into your dripping pussy as you take in just how fucked out he looks. He looks so hot with his messy curls falling down into his blown out eyes, his tongue licking his bottom lip seductively while he works you nice and slow with those meticulous fingers of his. He’s a work of art, a perfect masterpiece that you don’t want to stop looking at. He’s everything you really ever wanted in a man. And he looks so wrecked. 

   His eyes narrow playfully, black pits that swallow you whole as he hooks your tired legs over his broad shoulders and slides you to the very edge of the damp leather couch. His breath blows over your sensitive center, and you can barely tolerate anymore. 

   “Joel,” you whine, feeling like you have nothing else to give. 

   “S’okay, angel. One more, give me one more,” he coaxes as he melts his mouth down to your over sensitive core. 

   You have no room to speak, nowhere to go as he melds his tongue against your folds, dipping inside you, stroking languid licks against your aching clit that’s pulsing and so sensitive. He takes you past the edge, past all your boundaries as you dig your fingers into his mop of messy curls. 

   “Joel, it’s too much. I can’t cum again. I can’t…” you whine as he pops his mouth off your puffy clit. 

   “You can, angel. One more. Give me one more,” he purrs as you nod your head and hold in a whine. He takes his tongue and licks a thick strip all the way up your core, collecting slick against his tongue while he works up another building orgasm that you didn’t know you had left in you. 

   His fingers curl into you, reaching your spongy walls as his tongue pulls your drenched clit into his warm mouth. He sucks and drools over you, mixing his own saliva into your slick clit as he sucks and slurps on your aching core. 

   “Joel, I think I’m about to…”

   “That’s it, angel. One more time, let me hear those pretty moans. Say my name. Say it,” he slurs as he pushes his nose into the curls above your mound and licks feverishly against your puffy clit. 

   “Ahhh, Joellll,” you moan as you feel your slick wash through you, coating his tongue as he generously laps you up, panting between licks as he holds your hips down to lavish in your white hot release. 

   Your breath comes in waves, leaning your head back into the cushion of the leather couch as you watch him languidly clean all the slick from your sore, over sensitive pussy. 

   When he’s finished cleaning you off, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and smirks up at you with that devilish, handsome grin you burn into the back of your buzzing brain. He pulls the skirt of your dress down and pushes himself up, collapsing into the spot next to you on the plushy couch. 

   You both sigh, breathing heavily as he looks over at you and smiles, his blown out eyes relaxing into honey glazed eyes that burn holes through your vision. He’s so pretty when he smiles, eyes alight and his messy curls falling into his sweaty forehead. He looks fucking wrecked, but he looks so good like that. You wonder what he’d look like with you between his large legs…

   “How was that, hmm? Did I exceed your expectations?” he smirks as he lets his head fall back into the couch, glowing eyes staring right through you. 

   You smile, taking a deep breath as you let your aching muscles relax. “That was the best three orgasms of my life. You’re pretty… amazing,” you beam as you see the hint of a sparkle in those thick pools of honey. 

   “Glad I could make ya feel good, angel. You deserve it, and I’m so happy that I could be of some assistance,” he chuckles as his calloused fingers slowly trail up and down your thigh, a gentle rhythm that puts you at ease. 

   Suddenly, you feel like you should move, get up from this couch full of comfort. You want to make him feel good. You should, after he coaxed three insane orgasms out of you, you feel as if you owe him. And you want to, need to give him the same. So you will. Right now. 

   You slowly slide from the couch, ending on your knees as you crawl between his legs, laying your hands flat on his jeans while your fingertips dig into the meat of his thighs. You want to taste him just like he tasted you. 

   “What are you doin’ down there, angel, hmm?” he asks curiously with one eyebrow raised high on his forehead. 

   You brush your fingertips higher, hands now resting on his leather belt. “What does it look like I’m doing?” You smirk up at him and watch his eyes darken with desire. 

   He runs his tongue smoothly over his bottom teeth and gives you a crooked half grin that makes you weak in the knees. “Thought you didn’t like goin’ down on guys, sweetheart. Change your mind?” His jaw ticks, and he looks at you as if he’s teasing you in the best possible way. 

   You smile sweetly up at him and say, “Well, you’re not just any guy,” you laugh as you roll your eyes. “You’re not them, you gave me pleasure first, indescribable bliss. So let me repay the favor. I want to do this. You didn’t ask, I just want to give you exactly what you gave me.”

   He leans forward, narrowing his dark eyes as he smirks devilishly your way, licking his lower lip as he gazes hungrily into your eyes. “Think you can handle it?”

   Your breath hitches, watching the way he’s teasing you, dark eyes alight with mischief written in those flecks of black charcoal. If he thinks that’s turning you on again then he’s absolutely right. You’re already so wet again, slick pooling in between your sticky thighs. 

   You lean forward and undo his leather belt as you toss it to the floor in a heap, smirking smugly up at him. “Oh, I can handle it.”

   He cocks a thick eyebrow up and relaxes into the slick couch, spreading his legs as he nods down to his jeans. “Alright then, sweetheart. Let’s see what you can do with that pretty mouth of yours.”

   You giggle silently and smile up at him, leisurely unzipping his zipper and tugging down his denim jeans, along with his black boxers. When his erect cock springs free, you gawk over how absolutely massive he is. His long, thick cock is leaking precum, the swollen red tip of him begging to be touched. He’s so fucking big that you can barely form a coherent sentence, he’s absolutely sensational. 

   “What’s the matter, angel?” he teases as he cocks his head to the side, a sarcastic smile tugging at his plush lips. “Think you can still handle it?”

   You watch him carefully, narrowing your eyes as you smirk up at him. He’s challenging you, coaxing you to take a hold of him. He doesn't know yet that you can’t pass up a challenge, especially when it comes to him. You may be timid most of the time, but this time you need to show him that you can handle him. 

   You lean forward, inching your hand over his muscular thigh until you’re ghosting over his weeping cock. “Oh, I can handle it. Watch me,” you smirk. 

   He lifts his brows like he’s trying to figure you out, like he wants to crawl inside your scrambled mind until he finds exactly what he wants to know. But somehow he knows you can handle it, so he leans back into the leather and nods his head. “Go on, then. Handle it,” he challenges. 

   You lick your glossy lips seductively as you reach your hand around the girth of his thick cock, slowly spreading the building precum up and down his shaft as you indulge in the wet sounds your hands are making working up and down him. He groans, shifting his hips forward as he relaxes his back against the leather of the couch.

   Keeping your eyes on him, you lean down and slowly lick up the thick vein on the underside of his cock, languidly taking your time and ending at the tip as you swirl your tongue in slow circles over his swollen red head.

   “Christ,” he groans, his dark pits turning carnal as he watches you take him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks out as you start to bob your head up and down slowly, one hand at the base working the bottom of his shaft while your spit mixes with his precum. 

   You feel him squirm underneath you, his cock spasming in your mouth as you take him deeper, feeling your drool coat his slick cock as you suck him and tease him with your tongue, your hand, the back of your throat. He tastes so good, the salty bitterness sliding down your throat as you drink him down like he’s a fresh glass of sweet lemonade on a hot summer day in Austin.

   You take a breather, pulling off of him as you wrap your hand around his large length and start spreading your drool over him, making him messy as you smile sweetly up at him.

   He looks at you with cloudy eyes, looking absolutely fucked out as he takes you in. Messy lips, lip gloss smeared over his slick cock, a bead of drool connecting from his weeping tip to your lower lip, cheeks flushed pink as you look up at him with glossy eyes. He thinks you’re fucking perfect, a vision only the gods should see. And he feels as if he’s won the lottery because you’re a goddamn treasure. 

   “Fuck, sweetheart. Didn’t know you were so good with that pretty mouth of yours. Not too shy now, are ya?” he chuckles as he traces your bottom lip, catching the strand of drool that connects you to him like an intricate spider web spun around his swollen cock. 

   “Guess not,” you say as you shake your head. The way he’s looking at you seems intimate, even through his big, blown out eyes, it’s like he’s fawning over you, the position you’re in, between his knees, hand wrapped around his shaft, drool pooling in your mouth. It’s too much, too affectionate, you’re suddenly a blushing mess. 

   “Well, go on, angel. Keep goin’. Bein’ such a good girl with that pretty mouth, don’t stop on my account,” he chuckles, sliding his tongue menacingly over his bottom teeth as he winks at you. 

   You feel crimson fill your cheeks as you get back to work. You take him back in your mouth, slowly sliding down, down, down until you’re nearly choking on him. You make a muffled, gagging sound around him, and he tenses under you, groaning your name as he takes a hand and wraps it around your hair, holding it out of the way as you devour him. 

   “Attagirl, that’s it,” he hisses through his teeth when you go back down on him, your tongue twirling around his tip after you slide up and down the shaft of him, ending at his balls while you suck and wet them with your drool and spit. 

   “Goddamn,” he moans, cupping the back of your neck while your hair is wrapped firmly around his hand. When you come back up to the red, angry tip, he rasps out. “Think you can take me deeper, sweetheart?”

   Your heart speeds up, pulling itself into your throat as you swallow back any hesitation. He’s so big, it’ll be hard, but you’ll try. As long as he can guide you, you think you can do it. 

   You slowly nod your head up and down, taking a nice, deep breath while you still have the chance. “Mhm, yeah. I can try,” you pant out as he smiles warmly down at you. 

   “Alright, angel. Gonna guide you, okay? Jus’ wrap your hand around my wrist if it gets too much. Don’t wanna take you past your limits,” he chuckles, placing his large hand back where it was, keeping your hair wrapped around his calloused fingers. 

   You open your mouth wide, taking him back in your mouth while he slowly guides you down against him. You hollow your cheeks, opening your throat as he takes you down down down until your nose is grazing against the coarse, dark hair at the base of him. When you come back up again, breathing fresh air through your nose, he asks if you’re okay. When you nod your head yes, he smirks and takes you back down. 

   He speeds up his movements, guiding you back and forth down on his messy cock as he starts to fuck up into your mouth. The pacing is swift, erratic, desperate as he drives your mouth down on him over and over again. You’re so fucking full of him that obscene, squelching noises are coming out of your throat while you mouth fuck him again and again and again. You’re drowning in your own saliva, the drool pooling out of your throat and onto his large length while you gag and choke on his massive cock. 

   You can’t hear the thumping music out on the dance floor anymore, can only hear his stifled moans and the throat fucking noises reverberate across the dimly lit private room. Your eyes water, mascara running down your eyes while his hand tightens and pulls firmly on your hair, your own moans filling the space while you slip one hand under your dress while the other grips the end of his shirt. 

   You circle your aching clit, feeling pleasure run through your body while he ruts his hips into your mouth and chokes on another heated moan. “Look at you, angel. Already soakin’ again, yeah? Chokin’ on this fat cock made you wet again, hmm?” he teases as he lifts your mouth up and watches the drool pool from your tired mouth. 

   “Mhm, it did,” you nod as the breath leaves your body, his salty taste still lingering in the back of your throat while your hand goes back to slowly working him up and down. 

   You moan out in pleasure, feeling the precipice of your orgasm about to wash over you as he watches with wrecked black eyes. “Gonna cum again, angel?”

   “Ye- yeah,” you pant as you feel the white hot sensation start to take over, feeling your muscles collapse beneath your knees as he places a sturdy hand on your shoulder to keep you from falling over. “Joelllll,” you scream as he works you through your orgasm.

   “Oh, fuck yeah, sweetheart. Such a good girl spillin’ for me again. There ya go, what an angel,” he purrs as you fight to keep your eyes open, feeling the aftershocks of a fourth orgasm in just under an hour. You’ve never cum this many times, but also you’ve never met a man like Joel. A pure menace that keeps you on your toes. 

   He keeps you upright while you lean into his meaty thighs, one hand languidly stroking him up and down while the slick and drool collects in your palm. “Joel,” you whine with a pathetic cry that whimpers from your throat. 

   “What do ya need, sweetheart? Tell me what you want,” he coaxes, his thick fingers massaging the back of your shoulders gently. 

   “Want to… want to finish you off. Wanna make you cum,” you groan out. 

   He looks down at you, gentle brown eyes gazing through you as a light chuckle comes from his lips. “You seem pretty tired, darlin’. You sure you can…”

   “Yes,” you snap, eyes heating into his like a swirling fire. “Let me finish you off. Gag me, Joel. Fuck my mouth, please,” you beg.

   He chuckles out, eyes blowing back out as he smirks your way. “Such a dirty girl, ain’t ya? Alright, sweetheart. Since you asked so nicely, I’ll jus’ give ya what you want.”

   He grabs a fistful of your hair, holding you in place as he brings his weeping cock up to your mouth and thrusts in, hitting the back of your throat while you gag and swallow him whole, his massive cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly. You sit there and take it, on your knees while your hands dig into the meat of his thighs. 

   His thrusts speed up, snapping his hips into the air as he grunts and swallows your name on elated moans. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl, yeah. Takin’ me so well, sweetheart. Goddamn,” he grunts as he thrusts harder into the back of your throat. 

   He’s so close, you can feel it by the winded breaths and breathy moans, his body coming to life every time he ruts up into you. It’s like he’s everywhere all at once, his salty cum sliding down your hot throat as you feel him about to burst. 

   “Fuck, I’m not gonna last any longer, angel. I’m gonna… gonna cum,” he huffs as he tightens his fist through your messy curls. You inhale his musk, the smell of sweat and sex consuming you while he mouth fucks you nice and hard. 

   Just when you feel like you’re about to run out of breath, he thrusts deep inside your throat, your nose gliding against the base of his coarse hairs when you feel his cock spasm around the back of your throat. Before you know it, hot ropes of white cum are filling you, shooting down your closed up throat as you drink his salty release down. 

   “Christ,” he groans as he releases the last of his cum, filling you nice and full with the white spurts of him. 

   He releases his grip in your hair, pushing you back as he slowly slides out of your drool encased throat. When you finally take a breather, you cough a few times, choking on nothing until you’re panting out in raspy breaths. 

   You see him tuck himself back into his boxers, sliding his jeans up his hips as he zips himself back up and reaches down, cupping your chin as he takes a good look at the absolute wreck he made you. 

   “Look at you,” he laughs, gazing into your tear soaked eyes while his thumb gently grazes against your drool covered mouth, lip gloss covering half your chin. “Really did a number on ya, huh?” he teases. 

   “Looks like it,” you smile. 

   He smiles back, and it’s so warm that you have to stop and take a long, deep breath. He’s positively radiating right now, and it makes something tug hard inside your core. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” he asks. 

   He unbuttons the red collared button-up quickly, throwing his pristine white t-shirt over his head. And you can’t help but gawk at his tanned, glowing skin and the ripped muscles he has against his broad chest. He’s fucking gorgeous, he almost doesn’t even look real. 

   “C’mere,” he chuckles as he takes the soft t-shirt and cleans you off, running the cotton material against your messy mouth, your rainy eyes, your clumpy mascara, your sweat covered forehead. He’s so gentle with his large hands, almost delicate as he traces every inch of your face until you’re all cleaned up. You can’t help but stare at him the entire time he takes care of you. You’ve never had this, never known this. 

   Why was he doing this for you? Surely he’d just leave you to clean up after yourself, but he doesn’t. He does it for you. 

   “There ya go, all better,” he smiles gently, his caramel eyes a lighter brown as he stares back at you, something warm and admirable in his flecked starry eyes. It’s nothing like you’ve seen before. It’s new, uncharted territory. “Feel better?”

   “Yeah,” you say in a daze, still on your sore knees while you stare up at him, eyelashes batting slowly. 

   “Good, that’s good,” he nods slowly, thumb still trailing along your jawline smoothly. It’s like you’re in a fog, your mind racing at whatever this is. He’s a menace, but he’s also so, so… caring. You almost can���t say the word. 

   He throws on his silky shirt again, butting the small buttons as he covers his tanned, hairy chest. You almost mourn the loss of his sweaty, glistening chest. 

   “What are you still doin’ on the floor?” he laughs as he scoots over to the edge of the couch, leaving the left side open for you. 

   “Oh, I don’t know. Guess I got stuck,” you giggle as you shake your head, but honestly you’re just so tired, and you can’t stop looking at his mess of curls and honey colored eyes that you want to slip into. 

   “Well, c’mon now. Let’s get you up. C’mere.” He lifts you up off the hard floor, turning you around to where you’re facing the opposite way. He leans back into the armrest of the chair, parting his legs as he scoops you up into his lap and pulls his arms around your waist while one hand gently slides up and down your bare right arm, his fingertips trailing against smooth skin. 

   Your body is so confused, muscles tensing with every stroke of his thumb. You shouldn’t stiffen up, shouldn’t shy away from him because he feels so warm, but yet your body doesn’t even know what’s happening. Why is he being so soft, so gentle? Your mind must be playing tricks on you. This isn’t normal. At least not normal for you…

   Joel immediately notices your tight, strained muscles and carefully grips your shoulder. “Hey, why are you so tense? Hmm?” he asks with knit together brows, looking down at you with concern lathered all in those syrupy eyes. 

   You shrug, giving him your best perplexed look at you flutter your long lashes up at him. “I don’t know, guess I’m just known to be a little tense,” you whisper out, your eyes still staring up into those pools of warmth. 

   He smiles at you, chuckling out as he rubs the back of your neck, his thick fingers feeling like magic as they gradually dance over your smooth skin. “Relax,” he coaxes as he slides you up further on his lap, resting one arm lazily over your hip and the other drawing gentle circles in the crease of your arm. 

   Relax. The word slips through you, pulling every tense muscle out of its binds, releasing you slowly from any worries or anxiety in your buzzing mind. You’re here with Joel, you can relax. You don’t have to always go into fight or flight mode after being physical. This is a safe space. He is a safe space. 

   You nuzzle into the middle of his chest, resting your hand on the warm button-up as your hand brushes right over his beating heart. You can feel it beat a million miles an hour, the galloping hooves pumping in his veins. You also feel your own heart, steady and pacing wildly, and they start to mix together slowly. 

   Thump, thump, thump. It’s like your beats almost match his. A swift race of only two bodies colliding into the other, both running toward the other until you mesh into one. Two falling stars predestined to fall together. Binary stars.

   You nestle your cheek into the cotton of his button-up, your hand slipping under his shirt as you feel hot, sticky skin and the flex of strong muscles. He flexes his arm across your back and languidly strokes up and down your spine, calming you of any tension and putting your tired muscles at rest. 

   He smells so good, woodsy pine scents sticking to his flannel, sweet whiskey collecting on his tongue, and maybe the hint of some kind of tobacco in his hair from the wild crowd outside this room’s door. You get so lost in his scent that you just now realize he’s stroking the back of your head, fingers combing through your locks of hair as he caresses your lower back with his other hand. 

   You close your eyes, breathing him deep as you relax into his soothing touch, feeling every brush of his calloused fingertips as he rubs the back of your head gently. Your eyes flash open when you realize just what this is. Aftercare. 

   Aftercare? Joel was giving you… aftercare? But why? No one had ever given you that. Why would he want to give you that? 

   He rips you out of your distant thoughts, his deep, gravelly voice blowing gently through your ear. “You okay?” he asks as he trails his index finger up and down your wrist. You wish he’d never stop. 

   “Mhm,” you hum as you nuzzle into his arm, wrapping yourself around it as you hear him chuckle lightly above you while his head comes to rest on the top of your head. 

   “You thirsty?”

   “Yeah, actually,” you murmur against the cotton material rubbing softly against your cheek. 

   “Alright, let me jus’ go grab some water for you, sweetheart.” He shifts his weight carefully, sliding out from underneath you as he positions you against the soft cushion of the couch. “You gonna be alright if I’m gone for a few minutes?”

   You flick your eyes up to his and nod sleepily. “Mhm.”

   “Okay, angel. Be right back.” 

   Before he goes, he softly caresses your cheek with the back of his hand and then makes his way toward the door. He tugs it open, allowing the flow of carrying music to enter the room until he closes it gently, making the loud music suddenly go silent. 

   You breathe out a sigh, relaxing into the black leather as you place your fingers against the seat of the cushion. You still smell him, that whiskey and woodsy scent you could get drunk off. It engulfs you, makes you drunk with need. And then you feel that low tug when you think of those smoldering dark eyes and that lazy, crooked smile that seems to send your heart into a full on race. 

   You’re getting attached to him. You shouldn’t, you don’t need another shattered heart. But maybe Joel would be different, he is different. So maybe you need to let your concrete walls down again. Maybe for him you would…

   You close your eyes, concentrate on soothing the growing ache in between your legs, breathing in his cologne that’s left lathered in the leather on the couch. It’s soothing, almost like a bedtime melody that can hum you to sleep. You’re so close to fading off, drifting into a calm sleep until you hear the rustling noise of a door being opened and the sound of party goers float through the dimly lit room. 

   Once you push yourself to a sitting position, Joel joins you next to you on the couch, skimming his denim jeans against your bare leg. “Sorry I took so long. Thought you might be hungry, too.”

   Before you can ask what he means, he brings a basket of golden chicken fingers around his side and hands it to you, while his big brown gaze smiles back at you. Your mouth drops open, and you gawk at him. Chicken? He remembered what you said.

   Blinking once, twice, three times in shock, you finally reach out and grab the red basket while your fingertips brush against his. “Chicken fingers? I didn’t think you had any food here? I thought you said…”

   He laughs and places his hand on your thigh softly. “Well, if I remember correctly, some random girl just waltzed in here last weekend and started complaining ‘bout there not bein’ any food. Specifically chicken.” 

   He raises his brows and smirks your way, continuing his conversation. “She got me thinkin’ maybe I could use a private menu, somethin’ not open to the public jus’ yet. Maybe she wants to try it out first, hmm?”

   You narrow your eyes playfully, grabbing a piece of a fried chicken finger and breaking off half. “Yeah? Maybe she does want to try,” you say flirtatiously. When you take a bite of the delicious goodness, you can’t help but groan at the taste of it. “Holy shit, this is really good,” you reply with a little bounce in your seat. 

   He chuckles and smiles, grabbing the other half from your hand and bites into it. “Yeah? That good?” he laughs as he folds himself back into the cushion of the couch. 

   “Yeah,” you reply with a smile wide on your face. 

   He changed the signs for you, made chicken for you, made you feel pleasure like you’ve never known before in your life, gave you aftercare. Joel was… something out of a dream. So charming, handsome, dominant but yet so soft. You really needed to be careful with this one. 

   The red embers in the fire crackle in the corner while you and Joel talk about books, hobbies, music, your likes and dislikes. And it’s so easy as you fall back into laughter with him, flirting and smiling to each other while the both of you sip on iced waters and finish off the crispy chicken. 

   “Why’d you do it?” you ask quietly, after the chicken is finished off and you sit with your legs sprawled across his lap, his calloused fingers running slowly up and down your smooth skin.

   “Do what?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as those pools of honey flood your mind. 

   “The pink signs, the chicken, and whatever else you changed that I didn’t notice.”

   He looks at you a minute, his honey eyes glazing over yours while his greying scruff catches the dimly lit lighting of the glowing room. And it looks like he’s contemplating if he wants to say anything or not. He slightly shrugs and smiles over at you. “Guess it jus’ took a special girl to open my eyes.”

   “Oh,” you gulp. 

   Special girl? He thinks you’re special? Oh. 

   His eyes never leave yours, those smoldering brown eyes you can’t get enough of. And you’re afraid you’re already falling hard. 

   You nod to his pocket that he stuffed your panties in and raise an eyebrow at him. “You gonna give me those back, Mr. Club Owner?” you tease as he smirks over at you with a devilish glint to his dark eyes. 

   “I don’t think so, angel. Think I might jus’ keep ‘em. Besides, they look better off you,” he winks as your cheeks flush red. 

   You shake your head and laugh. “You’re a menace, Joel. You know that?”

   He throws his head back and chuckles loudly as his laugh carries around the large room. You love it, the sound of his deep, infectious laugh. You’re in big trouble, and you know that now. But there’s no going back now, it’s too late for that. He’s already had a taste of you, and you want more.

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