#if only so you protect yourself and yours

[sceletaflores]

SINK IN ME WITH YOUR DOG TEETH!

ೃ⁀➷ pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

ೃ⁀➷ wc: 7.0k

ೃ⁀➷ contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, feral nasty unhinged logan yes god, logan only slightly losing his humanity but like it’s a lot less sad than it sounds, maybe some toxic relationship dynamics but who cares it’s porn, predator/prey dynamics, p in v, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, HEAVY scent kink (like don’t make me say it…but beware of some very subtle armpit stuff), pain kink, biting is just another form of sexual penetration guys, blood, so much come and come talk, creampie, squirting, this is just gross, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

ೃ⁀➷ nat's note: hi…hi y’all…so here’s the winner of the poll and i need everyone to just hear me out for a second! walk with me! this is probably the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, like omg those tags. this upsetting depravity was inspired by this post by @stupidfuckingwindow and this post by @monimccoythings which both altered the chemical balances of my brain so fiercely i blacked out for a while and when i came to this was in front of me. merry christmas and happy holidays! take this not at all christmas themed fic as my present to you my precious angels. kisses!

dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!

you notice a strange shift in logan...

There’s something off with Logan.

The changes were subtle, but you’ve been with him long enough now to pick up on them. And while he's always had a raw, untamed edge to him, a sort of wildness simmering just beneath the surface, this feels different.

It started with the way he would go quiet for longer than usual, like his mind was too far away for you to reach—lost to somewhere distant.

Logan has always been quiet, but this was a different kind of silence. Conversations that used to flow with ease now hang in the air, unfinished. All of his responses reduced to nothing but low grunts and clipped words.

And he was more territorial over you, so much more.

His hand has started to linger at the small of your back or the curve of your waist for a lot longer when you’re in public, his strong grip firm enough to remind you—and anyone nearby—that you’re his.

He would fume at even the slightest hint of someone else's interest in you, a low warning growl escaping his throat to anyone who spared you a second glance.

It wasn’t just the physical closeness, though. It was also in the way Logan has started to watch you—his sharp gaze a never ending constant. An all imposing, heavily looming shadow.

There were even times late at night when you thought he was asleep, that you’d find him staring at you in the dark.

Not the usual, protective gaze he’d have when he thought you were vulnerable, but something deeper, more intense. His breathing would be slow, measured, but there was this energy, this tension that hummed between the two of you.

The nights he did manage to sleep, he’d hold you close to him, his grip iron-tight, his face buried in your hair. If you tried to shift away, even for a second, he’d stir, his arms pulling you back with a quiet, possessive growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

There were bite marks on your neck when you'd wake up, small enough to pass off as nothing—at least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself, but each one felt like a brand. They were deeper, more deliberate.

Then there was the scent—his scent.

You swear it’s gotten stronger, more potent. It clings to you like a second skin, lingering in your clothes, your sheets, even your hair. An intoxicating blend of leather and pine and musk that makes your head spin.

Each time you left the house without him, he’d pin you to the mattress and rub himself all over you before begrudgingly let you walk out the door. His hands or his face running along the delicate skin of your neck, of your stomach, of your wrists.

Everywhere.

He was claiming you in ways—new ways—that left you both exhilarated and confused.

There were other things too, smaller but no less odd things that were starting to add up.

More and more of your clothes have slowly started to go missing over the past few weeks. Each morning when you open any of your dresser drawers, it seems like there are less and less filling them.

Shirts, shorts, socks, bras, panties. All things you’ve found shoved under his side of the mattress or tucked under his pillow. The most memorable hiding place was the front pocket of his leather jacket, your favorite pair of panties haphazardly stuffed inside.

You haven’t said anything about it yet, unsure if you should be concerned or amused.

It isn’t like he’s truly hurting anyone.

He’s just acting…strange.

A part of you can’t help but be drawn to it—the new intensity, the new rawness. There was something undeniably magnetic about the way he clings to you, like you're his anchor in a world constantly shifting beneath his feet.

You’ve seen Logan at his worst—bloody, broken, and lost. But this? It’s never been like this before.

Whatever it is, it has its claws in him deep, and by extension, you.

You just got home from a run, barely walking through the door and kicking your shoes off when a call of your name rings out from the bedroom.

Logan’s tone stops you in your tracks—low and rough, like gravel crunching underfoot.

Your reaction is nearly instant, breath hitching in your chest, heart skipping a beat as a warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature outside starts to pulse through you steadily.

It’s like you’ve become reprogrammed to respond to him this way, your body reacting before your mind can even catch up as his deep, familiar voice rolls over the sweaty expanse of your skin.

You drop your bag at your feet and slowly make your way to the bedroom, a bead of sweat trailing down your temple as you push the door open.

All the curtains are closed, the only light in the room a yellow glow that shines from your bedside lamp. 

Logan is sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his palms, but there’s nothing casual about his posture.

His gaze is locked on you, dark and intense, tracking every step you take, like a lion stalking a gazelle as it drinks from a watering hole.

“Didn’t tell me where you were going.” His eyes gleam as the lamp’s rays reflect off of them, his pupils dilated so he can see you better in the darkness that shrouds your room.

You swallow hard, trying to be as nonchalant as you can as your feet carry you to your dresser. “I went for a run,” you reply, your voice a little too steady, a little too casual.

You tug open the top drawer, rifling around for a clean shirt with a little more focus than necessary to distract yourself from the way his eyes burn a hole into your back.

“You didn’t tell me,” Logan repeats, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “You know I don’t like it when I don’t know where my girl is.”

There’s a sharp edge to his words, but it’s not anger—it’s something far more primal.

The energy in the room crackles like a storm about to break, and you feel it in your bones, in the way your skin prickles under his gaze.

"I was only gone for an hour," you say, your voice measured, careful. "You were still asleep when I left, I didn’t want to wake you." 

You chance a glance over your shoulder, and the sight of him steals the air from your lungs.

Logan hasn’t moved an inch from his perch on the edge of the bed, but the sheer force of his presence keeps you rooted in place, heart hammering in your chest.

“Hmm, that’s real sweet, baby,” he drawls, sitting up straighter now, leaning forward.

The motion makes him seem larger somehow, shoulders broad and imposing in the dim light. His tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip, and the way his gaze rakes over you feels like a physical touch, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Your fingers still in the drawer, fabric slipping from your grasp as your pulse pounds in your ears. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him, caught in the snare of his sharp, predatory focus.

You turn slowly, arms falling to hang limply at your sides. "I wasn't gone long."

Logan tilts his head, a low, amused sound rumbling in his chest as he rises to his feet with a fluid, deliberate ease that makes your stomach flip.

“Didn’t feel that way to me, darlin’.” His voice is a deep, gravelly purr. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Felt like forever.”

His eyes never leave yours as he crosses the room, the green completely swallowed by the dark black of his pupils as they seep into the color like oil spilling out over the surface of a lake.

You’ve never seen him like this before, so hungry.

"Logan," you say slowly, back pressed tightly against your dresser. "You're really starting to freak me out." 

Logan hums idly, head cocked to the side as he watches you. "I can hear your heartbeat." 

His tone is calmer now, but there’s still a dangerous edge to it, like a knife pressed just lightly enough against the skin not to break it.

Your pulse races, heat simmering in your stomach despite the slight edge of fear clawing its way through your chest.

He stops in front of you, so close that his scent invades your senses strong enough to make your knees feel like they’re about to buckle beneath you.

“There’s nothin’ to be scared of baby,” he mutters quietly, thick arms coming up to cage you against the dresser. 

Your hold on the wood tightens, your knuckles turning white with the strength of your grip.

It’s almost chemical, the way you can feel your body start to give in to him. The thought fills you with as much arousal as it does unease, a heady combination that churns in your stomach.

You muster up enough will to breathlessly nod in agreement, a quiet submission.

Logan’s lips quirk into the faintest smirk, his heavy gaze dipping to the curve of your neck, lingering on the rapid flutter of your pulse. “That’s my good girl.”

Any words you might say get caught in your throat as you stare up at Logan, wide eyed and steadily leaking wetness into the gusset of your panties. 

His nostrils flare, and a knowing sound rumbles from somewhere dark and low in his chest as his eyes flutter shut on a deep inhale.

Your thighs clench together instinctively, the overwhelming need to be filled wracking through your body like thunder.

When Logan opens his eyes again, there’s no trace of anything but pure animal need. The muscles in his jaw working furiously under his skin in time with the strain of his forearms still caging you in place.

“Yeah…” he trails off slowly, tone both condescending and soothing all at once. “I know you’re not all that scared, honey.”

He leans in, tearing a small whimper from your throat at the way his beard scrapes against your cheek as he crowds you.

His breath fans over the shell of your ear, hot and enticing as they brush against your skin when he speaks again. “I can smell how fuckin’ wet you are.”

Logan’s words send a sharp jolt through you, a broken moan falling from your parted lips as your cheeks heat up so fiercely it’s as if you’ve been slapped.

Your body moves without thinking, pressing up into his hard, unyielding frame like you can’t help it—and maybe you can’t.

“L–Logan…” Your voice trembles, a weak thing that dissolves in your throat as he noses along the skin of your neck.

His hands come down to rest on your waist, palms rough and possessive and warm and a perfect fit where they lay over your curves, anchoring you in place.

“Shhh.” His lips trail down your jaw, leaving wet kisses in their wake. “You don’t gotta say a thing, princess. I know what you need.”

Logan’s hands slip lower, cupping the backs of your thighs with ease before hoisting you onto the dresser like you weigh nothing. The sharp edge of the wood digs into your legs, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about the discomfort.

Your hands go to his shoulders without much of a second thought, nails digging into corded muscle as you try to keep your balance. 

Logan’s hands stay on your thighs, his grip strong enough for you to feel the power behind them without hurting you.

He noses along your sweaty skin like a hot-tempered hound, desperately inhaling greedy lungfuls of your scent wherever he can get it.

Behind your ear, in the crook of your neck, along your collarbone, the exposed swell of your breasts, dangerously close to your underarm.

He groans against your shoulder, a full body shiver jolting his frame. “Smell so fuckin’ good darlin’, drives me goddamn crazy.”

You can’t form a coherent thought, let alone a response. His mouth finally finds yours, claiming you with a ferocity that steals your breath.

Logan's tongue slides against yours, a messy, desperate kiss that has you moaning into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer.

It’s filthy, fueled by nothing but raw need and desperation. Spit drips from your chin to trail down the length of your throat until it gathers in the valley of your breasts. Whether it’s his or yours, it doesn’t matter.

It’s a perfect mix of the both of you, lewd and messy in the way it claims your skin.

Logan breaks the kiss with a low moan, his chest heaving the same as yours as you both inhale harsh lungfuls of air.

His lips are red and raw, swollen in a way that your own must mirror. A string of saliva keeps you connected, drooping thinner and thinner in the space between you until it breaks under the weight of gravity.

Logan doesn’t give you long to catch your breath. His lips trail down your jaw and latch onto the sensitive spot just below your ear, teeth scraping against skin before he sucks hard enough to leave a mark. 

Your head falls back against the wall as his mouth moves lower, dragging the strap of your sports bra down with his teeth.

The way he’s acting—like a man crazed, like he needs you more than he needs air—has you dizzy with need. But there's a part of you that’s still trying to hold onto some semblance of control, to hold onto something familiar in the chaos.

It’s only then that you realize this may be a bad idea. 

Whatever this is, is clearly an accumulation of all the things you’ve noticed over the last couple of weeks.

Maybe indulging Logan will only make things worse, like giving in to him when he’s in such a state could be the tipping point to a much deeper and all consuming issue buried somewhere inside of him.

It can’t possibly be healthy for him to act like this, and it can’t be healthy for you to bask in it as much as you are.

“W–wait.” Your thighs slip shut, hands coming up to push at Logan’s shoulders weakly.

There’s no real force behind your ministrations and you keep your neck bared to him all the while, but he stops anyway, rearing back with a displeased noise. 

His face hovers inches from yours, and for a moment, you swear he looks almost pained—his brows furrowing, jaw tightening as though reigning himself in is a Herculean effort.

His hands remain on your thighs, trembling slightly as he keeps himself rooted in place, clearly fighting every instinct roaring through him to just take what he wants.

“You don’t want me to stop, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, a stark contrast to the restraint in his expression. His thumbs stroke idly against your skin, his touch soothing even as his words drip with pure, feral confidence. “I can smell the way your pussy’s achin’ for it. I can feel it. You’re shakin’ for me.”

You are—your whole body feels like it’s on the verge of unraveling under his touch, your resolve crumbling faster than you’d like to admit.

Everything you were going to say gets clogged in your brain on the way out, leaving you silent as you hold his gaze.

You don’t even have the capability to feel embarrassed at the way you blanch, lost in the way his scent attacks your senses, in the rough drag of his palms over your bare thighs, in the way your lips still tingle from his kiss.

Logan sighs, long and all suffering as his hands come to rest on both of your shut knees. The impatient raise of his brow paired with the dissatisfied curl of his lips is enough to shake you to the core.

“Now, you gonna show it to me?” His fingers drum along your knee, his patience thinning. “Or am I gonna have to make you.”

And it may sound like one, but you know it’s not a question. 

It’s a choice.

Your mind races, hands clenching and unclenching on Logan’s shoulders as you weigh your options. His own hands squeeze your knees, just hard enough to let you feel it in your bones.

You spread your legs.

Logan doesn’t waste a second, dropping to his knees in front of you with a satisfied rumble and a predatory gleam in his eyes. His hands grip your thighs, pushing them even wider. Wide enough to make you feel exposed, vulnerable in the best way. 

Your head dips, chin falling to your chest as you watch the way Logan takes up the space between your legs. Your shorts are soaked, fabric so drenched that it’s melded to the shape of your cunt, your puffy folds on display for his greedy eyes.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes, his voice cracking like a whip in the quiet room. His hands find your waistband, and the dull sound of fabric ripping rings out.

The sturdy cotton tears like tissue paper in his hands, the scraps of your shorts falling carelessly to the floor, leaving you in nothing but the light blue panties you slipped on before your run. 

The way he gazes at the space between your thighs is feral, unrestrained, like he’s a man starving for his next meal—and you’re it.

“Look at that…” Logan mutters, almost to himself as he runs his knuckle along the wet cotton of your panties. His touch is featherlight, barely any pressure at all, but it’s enough.

Your breath hitches, a sharp intake of air at the teasing touch, and your hips instinctively cant forward, silently begging for more. 

Logan's eyes flick up to yours, a dark smirk curling his lips like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you—and how much you're already falling apart.

“Eager fuckin’ thing,” he drawls, voice rough with arousal. He leans forward, his hot breath ghosting over your soaked panties, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “You want me to give your pussy some kisses, baby?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words never make it out. Logan’s lips press against the damp fabric, placing a kiss right over where your covered clit throbs with need.

Your head falls back to rest on the wall behind you, a shocked moan bursting from your lips.

“Logan.” His name is pulled from your mouth like a plea, but he doesn’t let up, the sharp edge of his teeth scraping over the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden beneath the soaked barrier of your underwear.

“Hmm?” He hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core. “Thought you wanted me to stop?”

The taunt is maddening, the rasp of his voice and the teasing flicks of his tongue combining to unravel you piece by piece. 

You shake your head furiously, thighs trembling where they rest on his broad shoulders. “N-no—don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Logan chuckles darkly, his hands sliding up your thighs to hook his fingers into the thin waistband of your panties. 

“That’s more like it,” he taunts. With a single, sharp tug, the ruined fabric joins the scraps of your shorts on the floor.

Logan groans at the sight of your bare cunt, slick with your juices and flushed with arousal. His mouth waters, his tongue running along the sharp points of his canines in anticipation.

You’re already so ready for him.

“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he growls, leaning in to drag his nose along the slick seam of your folds. The deep inhale he takes is obscene, sending a ripple of anticipation through your entire body. “Know that you taste even better.”

Logan licks a broad stripe through your folds, groaning like the taste of you is enough to satisfy him completely. His hands grip your thighs tighter, keeping you spread and utterly at his mercy as he begins to work in earnest.

He alternates between laving the tip of his tongue over your clit and dipping down to fuck into you, his beard scraping along the skin of your thighs in a way that’s almost too much. Your head falls back, hitting the wall with a soft thud as your vision blurs.

“God, Logan.” You squirm on the vanity, but he holds you steady, growling low and deep into your core like your moaning only spurs him on.

“That’s it,” he mutters between licks, his words unmistakably smug. “Make those pretty little sounds for me, baby.”

Logan circles your clit with the flat of his tongue, alternating between firm, deliberate strokes and light, teasing flicks that leave you gasping for air.

You cry out, fingers tangling in his thick, unruly hair as he repeats the motions, your thighs starting to tremble on either side of his head.

Every time your hips buck against him, he growls, the vibrations of it sinking into your skin and amplifying the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Stay still,” he orders, his voice muffled against your dripping core but no less commanding. His hands tighten on your thighs, holding you in place with an unrelenting grip. “You’re not in charge, sweetheart.”

You whimper, your whole body trembling as you fight the urge to grind against his face. But it’s impossible to stay still when he’s licking into you like a man possessed, his mouth working you over with an intensity that has your vision going hazy.

“I know, you're just so damn needy, aren’t you, baby?” He drawls , pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your arousal. “You love this, hmm? Lettin’ me take care of you?”

You can only nod, words failing you as his fingers replace his mouth, sliding through your spit soaked cunt.

“You’re so goddamn pretty down here.” Logan mutters, almost to himself, spreading your puffy, abused folds obscenely wide. 

He teases your entrance, fingertips dipping into your warm heat only to retract a second later. You whine, high and embarrassing as your hips twitch with want.

Logan watches your face closely, his expression equal parts smug and adoring as he finally sinks one thick finger inside you, curling it just right.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your head lolling back he adds a second finger, stretching you in a way that has your toes curling. He pumps them slowly at first, each deliberate thrust sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body.

“Takin’ me so well,” Logan murmurs, his thumb brushes over your clit, drawing tight circles that make your thighs tremble. “So tight and wet for me. You’re makin’ me crazy, darlin’.”

Your moans grow louder, unrestrained, as he picks up the pace, his fingers plunging into you with a rhythm that has your skin burning hotter and hotter.

Logan’s mouth returns to you with renewed fervor, tongue and lips working in perfect tandem as he drags you closer to the edge. 

He shakes his head back and forth like an animal, his nose rubbing up against your clit deliciously as buries his tongue as deep in your cunt as it’ll go. The coarse hair of his beard scratches the sensitive skin of your inner thighs red and raw.

You can’t think, can’t breathe, your entire world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you. 

“Logan—” Your voice cracks, your head falling back against the wall as the spring of pleasure inside you winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. “I’m—fuck—I’m so close—”

“Good,” he growls, pumping his fingers in time with the flicks of his tongue. “I can feel you squeezin’ me. I want you to come for me, baby. Wanna taste every fuckin’ drop.”

You’re powerless to resist.

You cry out, thighs clamping shut on either side of his head as you come on his tongue. Your body shakes so violently you knock a few things off the vanity, the distant sound of glass shattering hardly registers. 

Logan growls, low and dragged from the back of his throat in such a way that makes it reverberate in the space between your legs. His own arms come up, grip strong and encouraging as he forces your legs around his head even tighter than before.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, licking and sucking and pumping his fingers to drag you through the aftershocks like a man obsessed. 

When you finally come back to yourself, panting and trembling, Logan’s holding your shaking thighs apart, his mouth still pressed to you in soft, languid strokes.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, voice rough and gravelly as he presses a final kiss to your oversensitive clit. 

Logan’s hands slide up to your hips, gripping tight as he rises to his feet, towering over you with that same dark, predatory gleam in his eyes. 

His lips are even redder than before, swollen and slick with your juices. His beard is damp and shining in the low light, and the smug, satisfied smirk on his face sends another pulse of heat through your already spent body.

“Good girl,” he purrs, not even bothering to wipe his mouth before leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that’s all heat and possession. 

You can taste yourself on his tongue, the salt and musk mingling with the raw hunger. It’s filthy and intoxicating, and it leaves you gasping for air when he finally pulls away.

But Logan’s far from finished.

His hands slide under your ass, lifting you off the dresser with ease. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he carries you to the bed and tosses you on it with little preamble.

Your back hits the mattress hard enough to have you bouncing on it once, twice, three times before Logan is crawling up to blanket your body with his. 

The heavy weight of his metal laced bones sink you into the soft plushness, keeping you stuck beneath him with nowhere to go.

Which you know is exactly where he wants you.

He slots his hips between yours, dragging the straining jut of his cock along your sensitive cunt. You can feel the warmth of him even through the thick material of his sweats, a scalding plane of heat that makes your cunt ache with need. 

You can feel the damp patch where his clothed tip nudges against your clit, and you know from that alone he’s already soaked through the cotton with pre-come. His cock leaking like a faucet in the harsh confines of his bottoms while he ate you out.

“Feel that?” Logan asks, voice hoarse as he buries his head in your neck. “That’s all ‘cause of you, baby. Got me drippin’ like I busted a damn pipe.”

The sharp intake of air you suck in at his words does nearly nothing to help your breathlessness, your desperation bleeding through as your frantic hands push at the waistband of his bottoms. “Off. Off.”

Logan huffs a rough laugh against your neck, his warm breath skating across your skin as his lips ghost over your pulse. “So fuckin’ bossy.”

He doesn’t move to help you, not right away, savoring the way your hands fumble and tug, your frustration bubbling over in breathy little gasps.

“You want it that bad, huh?” he teases, the rough timbre of his voice a stark contrast to the gentleness of his lips pressing along your jaw. “Look at you, so damn needy. Can’t even wait for me to get my cock out.”

You only tug harder, patience nonexistent as your fingers curl into the waistband. “Please, Logan. Don’t tease.”

“Alright, alright.” Logan finally gives in, sitting back just enough to push them over his hips, freeing his cock.

It springs free, slapping against his stomach heavy and slick with pre-come, the ruddy tip glistening in the low light.

The sight alone has you clenching around nothing, a devastatingly desperate noise falls from your lips as the ache between your thighs builds to an almost unbearable throb.

He makes quick work of ripping his shirt over his head, carelessly tossing it behind him before he’s back on you.

This time, when he bullies his hips in between yours, there's nothing separating you.

You feel every inch of his cock as it grinds along the seam of your cunt. The velvety skin is almost scalding as it drags against your own, the drool of pre-come only adding more to your own wetness.

Logan presses you into the mattress harder, rutting against your cunt almost desperately as he noses along your damp, overheated skin.

His mouth is everywhere. Sucking marks where the junction of your neck meets your shoulder, lapping up the sweat that pools in the valley of your breasts, licking a filthy stripe across the side of your face that has your cheeks burning.

He buries his nose in the sweaty skin of your underarm, whining and panting like a surly dog all over again. Each breath is hot and wet against you, and it only seems to make him hungrier, greedier. His cock blurts even more pre-come onto your skin with every inhale he takes.

It should gross you out. 

It should be utterly mortifying, but the sight of Logan like this only leaves you thrumming with want. 

His desperation, the raw, unfiltered way he takes you in—like he can’t get close enough, can’t have enough of you—has your pulse racing and your mind spinning out of control. 

You feel his nose press harder against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over you as he groans, a deep, guttural sound that reverberates right through you. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, voice gravelly and broken. “You smell so goddamn good. Can’t help it. Can’t fuckin’—” His hips jerk, the weight of his cock sliding slickly against your cunt, bumping up against your clit in a way that makes you shiver. 

“Logan,” you whimper, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing the friction, the relief, the unbearable stretch you know only he can give you. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. I need you—need you so bad.”

He smirks, his lips curling against your skin as he nips at the curve of your jaw. “Need me, huh?” he murmurs, his tone dark and teasing. “Need my cock inside you, stretchin’ you open? Tell me, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.”

“So bad.” Your hips tilt up instinctively, desperate for him to push inside. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, the blunt pressure sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Need you so bad it hurts. Please—please don’t make me wait.”

Logan growls, a feral sound. “Such a good girl when you beg for me.” he snarls, big hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise so he can flip you on your front, gently manhandling you until you're on all fours. “Gonna fill you up, princess.”

His hands knead the soft flesh of your ass as he lines himself up behind you. The weight of his cock presses against your entrance, slick and ready, and for a moment, he just stays there, teasing.

Your arms shake beneath you, elbows locked as you force yourself to stay still, patient.

The head of his cock nudges against you, spreading your slickness, and your body trembles in anticipation. He sinks himself into you in one deep, unrelenting thrust.

The stretch is instant, the burn delicious as he pushes inside, inch by inch, filling you in one fluid, devastating stroke. A choked gasp spills from your lips as he bottoms out, his cock seated so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

“Fuck.” Logan stills, his cock pulsing inside you as he lets you adjust, but the restraint is fleeting. 

His hands glide up your back, palms rough and grounding as they map every curve, every quiver of your body. He starts grinding his hips in slow circles, pressing every inch of his cock along your velvety walls. 

Your head drops between your arms, brows pinched together as you take in greedy lungfuls of air. You’ll never get used to this, the way Logan fills you so perfectly, no matter how many times it’s been.

“Come on, baby.” Logan leans down to press a soft kiss between your shoulder blades, his lips fever hot. “You wanted to fuck me so bad you could hardly wait. Now’s your chance, fuck me.”

It takes a few long seconds for his words to cunt through the molasses clouding your mind, the small thrust of his hips hinting at what he wants you to do.

You let out a pitiful whimper, hands digging into your bed’s puffy comforter as you start rocking your hips. 

You start slow, letting yourself build up a nice, steady rhythm as Logan purrs words of encouragement from behind you. His hands never leave your hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles over your skin as you start to pick up the pace.

“That’s it,” he encourages darkly, giving the rippling muscle of your ass a sharp swat. “Find the fuckin’ spot, baby. Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”

You cry out at the sting of his palm, bouncing yourself on his length impossibly faster. Your arms burn under the strain of your movements, but you can’t stop chasing the high of pleasure that shoots up your spine.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, a lewd slap slap slap as you fuck yourself on Logan’s cock like he’s a replacement for the cheap suction cup dildo collecting dust in a box hidden away in your closet—like he’s nothing but a expertly shaped lump of silicon molded solely for your pleasure.

You can feel yourself getting close to the edge, and in nearly no time at all. The telltale coil buried deep in your belly winding tighter and tighter as you work yourself on Logan’s cock hard enough that the cheap frame of your bed thumps against the wall.

It might be embarrassing if you weren’t so far gone already, so fuck drunk that the too loud moans falling from your lips hardly phase you.

It's like there's nothing but the feel of Logan inside you, bumping against that spot inside you that has stars shining behind your closed eyes. 

“Close already?” Logan taunts from behind you, voice just the tiniest but breathless, but the way his cock pulses and jerks where it’s sheathed in your cunt lets you know he’s right there with you. “I know you are, honey. I can feel how she’s squeezin’ me, so damn tight.”

His hands dig into your hips, not even waiting for a response as he starts thrusting in time with your bounces. He pounds into you, hips snapping against your ass hard enough to sting.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come too baby,” he bites out, the rhythm of his hips getting sloppier. “Gonna come so fuckin’ hard, fill you up so good. Shit–”

Logan pulls out enough that only the thick tip of his cock stays sheathed in the warmth of your cunt, his body falling to hunch over yours as he pumps his come into you with a feral growl.

You whine at the feeling of his release filling you, painting your insides with spurt after spurt of thick come. It’s so much, it’s always so much. A rush of warmth that floods your insides each time without fail.

And just like that, the feeling alone has you coming.

Your back arches as your cunt gushes over the tip of his cock, drenching his thighs and the rest of his shaft in your essence. You think you may scream, but it’s hard to tell over the white noise rushing through your ears.

Your arms finally buckle under you as Logan helps you ride out the last few tremors of your orgasm with a few slow rocks of his hips, and your spent body collapses onto the mattress.

Logan’s low noises of pleasure barely register as your chest heaves almost violently, your lungs desperately trying to get as much air as they possibly can.

But you barely have time to catch your breath before Logan plants his knees back firmly on the mattress and starts thrusting, again. 

“Logan!” Your hands scramble for purchase on the mussed sheets of your bed, the overstimulation making your legs kick out frantically.

“You thought we were done?” Logan asks, his tone equal parts amused and mocking. “You popped twice already, baby. S’only fair that you let me catch up.”

With no warning, he takes you in his arms, pulling his cock out just long enough to flip you on your back. He throws your legs over his shoulders before plunging back inside your fucked open cunt with a filthy squelch. 

He feels even bigger like this, yet your body swallows his cock like it’s nothing. The spongy warmth of your walls melding to the shape of him like it’s what you were made for. 

The coarse hair of his happy trail drags across your clit each time he thrusts, adding to the blistering feeling where the knife's edge of too much too much too much meets not nearly enough.

His come stuffed in your trembling cunt only makes it all the more filthy, his cock plunging inside you and coming back out slick and wet on every thrust. 

Your lips fall open on a broken moan, eyes screwing shut as you work your cunt around him, feeling the way his release gets fucked deeper and deeper inside you.

Logan notices, of course he does.

A dark chuckle rumbles against your own as he leans down enough to whisper into your slack mouth. “You like havin’ someone come in your pussy, baby?”

You moan into his mouth unabashedly, loudly. Both of your eyes burning as tears threaten to fall down the flushed skin of your cheeks, your throat going dry and scratchy in the best way possible. 

“Shit–” Your hands claw at the rippling muscles of his back desperately, nails digging into his skin hard enough that you feel the unmistakable slickness of his blood coating the tips of your fingers.

The pain spurs him on, his head tips down on a low groan and his eyes squeezing together for a split second before he’s spewing filth again.

“You want some more?” Logan asks, tone going dark like he already knows the answer as his hips speed up impossible faster. “You want me to come again?”

You don’t respond, you can’t respond. You can barely make a coherent thought. 

All you can manage are whiny moans that fall from your slack lips, broken little uh uh uh’s that get punched out with each new thrust. Your nails rake down his back mercilessly, leaving behind deep red welts that heal as you go.

“Yeah, I know you do.” He turns his head to nip at the skin over the delicate bone of your ankle where it bounces near his head, sharp teeth digging in enough to have you whining pitifully. “You love havin’ a messy fuckin’ pussy, don’t you? Love being stuffed so full of my come you can’t even hold it all, huh?”

His words hit you like a physical blow, lighting up your body from the inside out. Your thighs shake where they’re wrapped around his hips, ankles locking over his lower back so he couldn’t pull out if he wanted to.

His come mixes with your juices to coat his cock, completely drenched all slick and shiny in the dull light of your bedroom. It drips down almost leisurely compared to the near feral snap of his hips, trailing all the way down his length to his heavy balls. 

“Yes.” He groans, reverent. “Give it to me, baby. Wanna feel you come on my cock again, feels so fuckin’ good. Can’t ever get enough—”

You’ve never heard him like this, so high of pleasure that his speech slurs and his words all meld together into one filthy stream of ramblings that has you sinking your nails even deeper into his back and coming on his cock with a loud wail.

Your cunt convulses around him, shaking with the force of your release, milking him. 

“Fuck, princess.” Logan pitches forward, his sweaty torso covering yours as he keeps fucking into your shaking body, desperately chasing his own release.

Finally, with a muted roar of your name, he sinks his teeth into the tender skin of your neck and comes for you.

You cry out at the sharp sting of his teeth bearing down hard enough to draw blood, your vision whiting out with the pleasure of being claimed in every way imaginable.

Logan’s hips only stop when he’s drained of every last drop, his body shaking where it lays over yours. He laps at the broken skin of your neck, a soft gesture that isn’t quite an apology for making you bleed—because you know that he isn’t sorry whatsoever—but it’s nice nonetheless.

Your arms come up to circle around his neck, eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion hits you all at once. You get lost in the steady rhythm of Logan catching his breath, in the way his heart pounds against his ribcage where his chest is pressed to your own, in the way his fingers twitch and flex on your hips.

The last thing you hear as you drift off, his come starting to leak down your thighs in thick streams of white, is a hushed whisper of “I got you, baby. I’m right here, I’m always right here.”

It puts you at ease, all the worry you felt over the last few weeks slipping from your mind like grains of sand through your fingers.

Maybe, this new side of Logan isn’t so bad after all.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

XIX. Trouble (Smut!18+!MDNI)

Nulla sunt arcana quae tempus non indicat.

There are no secrets that time does not reveal.

                                                                  J.R.

"Hanno?" You stammered slightly. It was strange to see him standing before you after such a long time and even more confusing to feel uncertain about how to respond. "Is that really you?"

He smiled, displaying his familiar smile.

"I think so."

That was exactly the sort of response he'd give.

"There he is!"

A man shouted from behind, momentarily distracting you. Hanno narrowed his eyes and swore.

"Get him! Quickly!”

Before you could even think, Hanno grabbed your arm and whispered in your ear, "I'll be at the popina (wine bar) near the gladiator school tomorrow." He took a quick look over your shoulder.

Geta looked alarmed when he saw the men running towards you. "Aurelia! Protect the princess!"

"I have to go now. I'll wait for you there, Aya."

You opened your mouth, but you couldn't say anything; you just watched him running down the street, getting away. The men stormed past you and ran after him, while Geta and the guards came to your side in a hurry.

"My lady! Are you alright?"

Geta grabbed your shoulders. "Did he do something to you?"

You shook your head.

At that moment, the sound of horses neighing echoed around.

"General!" one of the guards called out, looking backwards.

You both looked over there.

Marcus jumped off his horse, eyes narrowed, which made you nervous. He was looking at Geta's hands on your shoulders as he walked quickly towards you, so Geta swiftly removed his hands from your shoulders.

"Acacius, you are very intuitive."

But he did not look at him, his eyes fixed on yours. You smiled at him, though it was weak.

"My lady, I was not aware of your intention to visit here." His voice was filled with curiosity. He turned his eyes to Geta.

"I have asked her to accompany me here."

You were about to answer yourself when the men who had just chased after Hanno turned around with him, grabbing both arms. Geta stopped them with a raised hand.

They bowed to him.

"Who is this man? How dare you touch the princess? Speak!"

You looked at Geta, getting mad at him for mentioning 'touching thing' in front of Marcus. Just as you expected, he clenched his jaw, tensing up.

“I said speak!”

Hanno didn't answer, he just glared at him menacingly, which made them even more tense.

"Emperor Geta asked you a question!" Marcus snarled.

"He escaped from the gladiator school, Your Majesty. We've been looking all over for him." One of them replied.

"He's from the colonies, your highness. He only speaks his native language." The other one explained.

Your eyes widened as Marcus gripped the handle of his sword.

"He meant no harm," you said, your voice cracking.

"Gladiator?" Geta tilted his head and studied his face. He then looked at them and yelled. "How could you let him escape and roam free on the streets? You useless bastards!"

Hanno looked at Marcus in a slightly odd way; there was a clear sense of tension between them.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" Geta gestured with his hands. "Get him out of here now!"

You placed both hands on Marcus' as he gripped his sword. "I'm alright," you reassured him.

Your touch had the usual calming effect on him. But his expression didn't soften until the men pushed Hanno into the prisoner's carriage. Hanno gazed at you from within the cage as you watched his departure, and you struggled to keep a straight face while trying to suppress your feelings. Marcus looked at you, examining your face. "Are you certain you're alright?" he asked, knowing you well enough to read your facial expressions correctly.

You smiled and nodded. "I am, really. But I thought you were in the barracks," you said, glancing at Octavius behind him.

"I was..." Marcus said then turned his gaze to Geta. "There is an urgent matter. I need to take you to Palatine Hill."

Geta narrowed his eyes. "Is it about that bastard cousin of mine?”

Marcus glanced at the children gathered around you, and the people looking at you with curious eyes. "I think you'd better see for yourself when you get there. Shall we?"

"I simply hope that one day will pass without incident! Just one!" Geta grumbled as he walked with the guards to the carriage.

Marcus smirked then he turned towards you. "I believe you would like to come with us, my lady."

It wasn't a question or a request, but the way he was acting made you curious.

"I'd like to come with you, General, if that's alright. It's been over a month since I paid my respects to my father anyway."

"As you wish, my princess.” He was usually a bit hesitant about you going there, but not today, apparently. He helped you onto the carriage and winked at you before walking over to his own horse and getting on.

"General Acacius. Commander Darius. What is the meaning of this? Tell me what's happening here at once!”

You were as bewildered as Geta as you took in the scene before you on Palatine Hill. Nerissa, the slave girl you thought was dead, was alive—and she had a baby with her.

"Your cousin Elagabalus was holding this girl captive, Your Majesty," Darius explained. "My men found her and brought her here."

Geta's eyes widened in surprise. "Why would he do that?" he asked loudly.

You sat down next to Nerissa, who looked frightened. Embracing her, you felt her begin to cry. The baby was crying too; it seemed he had been born only a few weeks after your own. As a mother yourself, you could tell that the baby was hungry. “Why don’t you gentlemen talk outside?” 

All three of them looked at you and nodded, except Geta, who frowned instead of nodding.and then all left. The girl then explained to you everything that had happened to her while she was breastfeeding the baby. After Flavius and his men had attacked all the slaves and wounded her, the other guards, the ones under Macrinus captured her. And after Macrinus was executed, they cooperated with the men of Leptis Magna and handed her over to them. And she said that she was already close to labour when Elagabalus found her. Poor girl was so exhausted and weak that she thought she was going to lose the baby. Compared to your chubby Marcius, the baby looked thin, he was two weeks to pass his first month and you couldn't hide that you were a little worried about him. In fact, Nerissa was a noble Greek, not a slave, she had told you her story before. Maybe that's why she was kidnapped. If Macrinus cared about this girl there must be certain reason of her importance. Suddenly the baby started crying again, you checked her breast, she must be low on milk.

"Give him to me," you said, holding out your hands.

"But, my lady…”

"My breast milk is enough for both my Marcius and your baby," you said with a smile.

She returned your smile and placed her baby in your arms. Unlike your chubby Marcius, this baby had silky golden blonde hair on top of his head, just like his father. She thanked you and prayed for you as the baby suckled at your breast. Just as you were about to hand the baby back to her, Julia burst into the room.

“What do you think you're doing?”

You glared at her and handed the baby to her mother, who flinched in fright. You stood up and approached Julia, not liking the way she looked at the girl.

"You get the hell out of here right now and take the child with you!"

She sat up but you stopped her by raising your hand.

"Why would she? After all, she gave birth to a boy, it's Geta's."

"So? The child can't inherit the throne unless Geta weds her."

"I am aware. You must free the girl first, then wed them."

"She's a slave! How dare you think she's worthy of our emperor?"

'You know your son's interest in her. She's a concubina, not an ordinary slave."

"Yet she's not his wife! The Senate wouldn't accept the child as an heir since it wasn't born from legal marriage.”

“That is why I’m saying you must wed them. She’s a captive of war, forced into slavery. Her family is noble, isn't it, Nerissa?"

The girl nodded, looking at her hesitantly. "Yes, my Empress. If we were to send word to my family in Athens, I'm sure they would be able to send you an answer.”

Julia put her hands on her waist, thinking. "You dumb girl. Why didn't you tell me all this time?"

Her cheeks flushed and she bowed her head. "Because I loved Emperor Geta with all my heart. He didn't want me to tell anyone about it, not even his brother Emperor Caracalla."

"All those fights they had... It wasn't just to share your cunt huh?"

"Lady Domna!" You barked.

She approached her, ignoring your glare. "Even if I can convince the Senate, I can't convince Geta. He's really determined not to get married." She looked at you out of the corner of her eye.

"I'll talk to him." You said without looking at her. Then you turned and looked at Nerissa. "Don't concern yourself. No one can get you thrown out of this palace. I'll make sure your family is notified."

"I'll take care of that, you try to convince Geta if you can. But I wonder one thing Aurelia. What's in it for you? What's going on inside that beautiful head of yours I really wonder?’

"Don't confuse me with yourself, Lady Domna. Some favors are given without expecting anything in return.."

She laughed hysterically. "You may deceive others with your gentle and innocent face, but not me. Helping all those poor people and winning the love of the people with this way was a good move. I would never have thought of doing such a sneaky thing. Well done."

"You wouldn't understand even if I told you about it, so I won't tire myself out."

You turned your back on her, leaving the room.

As you left Geta's chambers and walked towards the great hall, you noticed Octavius and the other Praetorians standing outside. You could hear Geta's loud voice coming from inside, so you went to talk to Octavius before entering. "I spoke with Decima," you said.

He looked up at you, a bit surprised.

"I will make sure to mention it to the general, so you can feel assured."

"Thank you, my lady. I really appreciate it. But if it's all right with you, I would like to speak with him myself first."

"Of course, Octavius," you replied with a warm smile.

He walked you to the door and the guards opened it for you.

Marcus and Darius looked at you. Geta however, his back was turned, resting his hands on the table. He then turned his head when he heard your footsteps.

"Commander Darius," you said, looking at him. "Would you please give us some privacy?"

"Yes, my lady," he replied, motioning for the other guards to step outside.

Geta poured himself a glass of wine and settled into the lectus behind the long golden-colored curtain.

Marcus grabbed your arm, "Perhaps it’s best if we don’t get involved."

You reassured him by touching his hand. "I just need to speak with him."

He let out a sigh, "I’ll be right here."

You smiled at him, then turned around and walked towards Geta. As you pushed the curtain aside with your hand, you noticed that he had already finished his glass. He turned it upside down and shook it. Quickly, you picked up the decanter from the table and poured more wine into his glass.

“He looks just like you, you know,” you said.

“Oh please!”

“What's the matter with you? Aren't you happy to see her again?”

“I'll die of happiness!” he replied sarcastically. You sat next to him. “You must marry her so the child can be your legal heir.”

He looked at you sternly, a look you had never seen before. “That's not how it works in Rome!”

“I know the truth about her,” you insisted.

“You know nothing, Aurelia!” he barked, then stood up angrily.

Marcus watched the two of you from a distance, clearly feeling nervous, but he waited patiently.

"We need to let her family know about all this. If you wed her quickly-"

"She does not have a family." He interjected emphatically, taking a moment to inhale deeply. "Caracalla had all of them executed."

"What did you just say?" you wailed.

Marcus stepped towards you as soon as he heard your loud voice. Still unable to believe what you had just heard, you didn’t notice him until he touched your back.

“It was before the revolt in Egypt. Her family came to Rome; they wanted to take her because she was the sister of their princess. That was one of the reasons the Greeks supported the revolt, Acacius.”

You looked at Marcus. It might sound a bit strange, but that rebellion actually brought you to him in a really unique way. After a moment of silence, you feel more determined to convince him.

“She must have had family left behind. You need to inform them about the situation. If you marry, it could be possible to establish peace between them and Rome, right? Additionally, if you appoint your son as your legal heir, you will regain their trust and take a step towards improving relations too.”

He folded his arms, “Marrying a Greek? I don’t think the Senate would approve of that.”

‘"Well, you must convince them, right?"

“I shall undertake that responsibility!" Julia's voice echoed through the great hall, filled with joy. "You must wed her, my son."

Geta looked at both you and Julia. "You two agree on that, huh? I’ll be damned." He then turned to Marcus. “What is your perspective, Acacius?”

"I am not a politician, Emperor Geta. However, it is undeniably advantageous for us that the Greeks refrain from participating in any future rebellions against Rome. So I agree with my wife, Lady Aurelia.”

You respected him; despite his modest denial of being a politician, he displayed considerable wisdom.

"I think I owe her that much," Geta murmured.

"We must start preparing for the wedding right away," Julia said with a smile. "But first, I need to invite the wives of the senators and discuss everything with them. They might be upset with me about this." Suddenly, her expression changed as she looked at you. "Aurelia, perhaps they'll be more easily persuaded if you join me. They respect you."

"Being in the same room with those women again? Not for me, Lady Domna," you replied. Julia was about to protest, but Marcus's stern gaze seemed to silence her.

"Then we ask for your permission to take our leave," Marcus said.

Geta nodded. "You may leave."

Marcus extended his arm, and you accepted it as you both departed from the hall. As you made your way out of the courtyard toward his horse, Marcus leaned in, whispering; “Aurelia, what is your intention?”

You met his gaze and lightly touched his face. “I am seeking to protect our son.”

He looked confused as he tried to understand your meaning. You took his hand. “Let us return home to continue our discussion; I miss our son deeply.”

He responded with a smile, gently kissing your hand. “So do I.”

“What you mentioned earlier...” Marcus said as he poured wine into his goblet. “I am curious about what you meant by protecting our son.” Marcius, seemed full, releasing your breast. He made the most beautiful sounds that filled the room with warmth and then drifted off to sleep peacefully.

“I meant to prevent him from being seen as the heir to the throne.” You stood up and gently put Marcius on the small mattress next to your bed. He seemed to fall into a peaceful sleep; at least, you hoped so. Marcus handed you one of the glasses and then moved over to watch him sleep. You took a sip from the glass and began to remove the fancy hairpins from your hair.

"You're afraid he might become emperor..." he said, covering him with the small blanket. "More than anything," you replied as you placed the hairpins into the box. "The weight of such responsibility is immense, Marcus. There will always be those who seek the throne and those who would want to harm him and manipulate him. How can I live with this fear? How can we live?" When you turned your head to look at him, you found him gazing back at you. He stood up and stepped toward you.

"I will be so relieved if Geta gets married as soon as possible," you said, yawning involuntarily. It had been a long and tiring day, first because of Hanno and then Geta.

Marcus's big hand reached behind you, grabbing your hair and sweeping it over your shoulder, leaving your neck exposed. Your tiredness instantly faded, replaced by something else entirely.

"I can't disagree with that." You swallowed as his warm breath licked your neck. And you gasped as his lips found your jugular. You closed your eyes, surrendering yourself to the sanctity of his touch. He wrapped his arms around you, under your arms, and pressed himself against you. One hand slid down, under the fabric of your tunic, touching your folds. You moaned quietly as he stroked your clit with his thick fingers. "Are you ready to be mine, princess?" His tone was so seductive that you would be damned if you did refuse him.

"I am-mmph..."

Your delighted moan was muffled as he mashed his mouth against yours, aggressive and lustful. You shuddered and wrapped your arms around his neck without missing a beat, mewling submissively even as his hands left your clit and moved to your hips instead, grabbing them firmly and sending jolts of excitement up your stomach. He then lifted you up making you laugh unashamedly as his hands squeezing your butt-cheeks beneath fabric even as your lips stayed connected. His tongue prodded your lips and you parted them instantly, letting out a horny whine as it invaded your mouth and dominated yours with embarrassing ease. As if to comply with that he held your ass more firmly, that being the only warning you got before he roughly laid you down on the bed. The little one's cooing made you break the kiss. But when you looked at him he seemed happy in his sleep. You whispered to him as Marcus' impatient fingers quickly grasped the hem of your tunic. “I love this tunic of mine, so please be gentle.”

“With your tunic maybe, but not with you.” He said grinning, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine. He leaned down, his lips grazed down your collarbone, breath hot against it, and a moan rolled off of your tongue as he kissed the top of your breast and then sucked upon it harshly. You found yourself afraid that might be hurt but it didn’t.

The thought was purged from your mind though as he swiftly snatching your other nipple up in his mouth. You gasped, your hand ending up in his curly hair and tugging it; utterly melting as you felt his tongue swirl around repeatedly before he gave it a wet-sounding suck, tugging it out until your nipple sprung from his lips and left your breast jiggling a little. His face placed between your breasts a mere second later, growling lustfully as he rubs them and tickled you with his hot breaths. He didn't stay there for long. Planting another few quick kisses upon your flesh then with a rush of eagerness, he undressed himself, his movements fast, impatient. Simply making you aroused more.

Just like he said before, he wasn't gentle when he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you towards him. He had just placed your legs over his shoulders when a soft cooing stopped him. You both looked at each other, remembering that there were three of you in the room now.

“How about we skip this part for now?”

Marcus smiled and kissed your knee. “I'll make it up to you, I promise.”

He leaned down and kissed you; it was passionate, tender, eager, and even a little rushed.

But then, however, there was his erection resting against your stomach, precum dripping onto your flesh. You ran one hand through the precum and along the length. He gasped at the touch, pulling away from the kiss. You met his eyes as you brought him to your entrance. He grinned, baring his teeth.

“Eager I see,” he said in a heated whisper.

With a playful grin, you pressed your finger to his lips and whispered, "Acta non verba, my love.”

Then, with a seductive lean back and spreading your legs, invited him in. He had his need pushed against your clit, along the sensitive skin, through your wetness. You cooed, writhing for him to feel inside you. He gave you one more kiss before shifting slightly to grab the backs of your knees and spread your legs wider than you had them. He pulled out a few inches and pushes back in, easing you into his thrusts before he starts picking up and every time he thrust into you, stretching you, made you crave more and more. Sweat dripping down your brow as he thrust deeper, lifting you by your knees and bending your legs towards your torso. In this position where you couldn’t move very much, he took control, finding sweetest spot with his aching need. You couldn’t stop moaning and mewling, crying out his name as he goes faster.

When your moans became louder, his big hand covered your mouth, silencing you. "Sssh, you'll wake him up, love," he whispered, finding your ear through your hair. "And I don't want our fun to end just yet." You nodded and continued to moan into his palm. He kept covering your mouth with his hand as he carried on thrusting, each one deeper than the last. He was sweating from his brow and the sweat was dripping onto your chest. He wiped the sweat with the back of his hand and pushed his hair back, but it was no avail; it swayed downwards as he leaned down to give you a messy kiss.Then you two drew back, inhaled a breath, and reconnected. Eventually he removed his hand from your mouth, he just wanted to bring you both to the climax, he didn't care about anything else at this point. Effortlessly, he threw your legs over his shoulders and leans forward, bracing his hands on either side of your shoulders and taking you just right. He then reached around to get his fingers on your clit, rubbing relentlessly.

“Marcus” you cried, “Marcus please—”

You can barely heard him over the wet-sound of slamming against your body. “That’s right, my love. Say my name. Come for me.”

All the stimulation gets to you and you obey. You gush on his length to the point where he has to pull out and watch as you make a complete mess of the bed. The rest of your body trembling, hips thrusting on their own, and fingers clawing at sheets. You scream at this point and he has to cover your mouth again, but this time not with his hand, but with his mouth. You moan and whimper into his mouth, hoping that you have not woken the little one up.

"Look at that," he groaned, rubbing your throbbing cunt and you clenched. "Well done, my princess. You’re a good girl.”

Desperate for his need and his orgasm, you pressed your heels against his back. "Inside. Inside me, Marcus, please."

Saying your name, he suddenly plunged back in. You responded with another scream, arching your back and taking every hard thrust. His breath faltered and his moans grew louder. And... You'd just had a second orgasm, but if he kept it up, you'd have a third.

“Wish me to fill this beautiful cunt of yours up…hmm?”

“Yes,” you said between his thrusts, “Yes, my love, fill me in, Gods!”

“I will gladly grant your wish…” He snarled.

Marcus' at his loudest when he came inside you, giving you everything you want and more. As he pushed himself into you, you come again. This time there is no concern or intention to be careful not to make a loud noise. You tightened around him with every thrust, moaning with him and accepting the messy kiss he giving you. It was hard to kiss back when your breath is stolen, when every emotion hits all your nerves and you can’t think straight. He didn’t move once he gives you his last drop. A moment passes where the two of you simply catch your breath. And eventually, as a result of all this noise, the final expected happened and little Marcius began to cry.

You both looked at him, panting, and then back at each other, grinning triumphantly and mischiveously. When you feel the soreness hit, you wiggled your legs and Marcus got the hint. He carefully placed your legs back on the bed. You whimpered as he pulled out, and you could feel the mix of fluid drip out of your cunt. When Marcius started crying louder, you tried to sat up, but your most sensitive parts were throbbing a bit and your legs felt numb.

“Marcus, will you give him to me? I can’t feel my legs.”

He kissed your cheek. “Forgive me. Couldn’t help myself.”

You smiled. “Couldn’t help myself, either.”

He gave you a kiss before getting out of bed and you leaned against the headboard while you watched him tenderly take Marcius in his arms and kiss his head, caressing his little nose with his own. It was something you never got tired of watching, it was so sacred, so beautiful. Before Marcus placed him in your arms, he put a pillow behind your back and kissed the top of your head as you smiled up at him. He was rough when he made love to you, but he always blew your mind with his incredible gentleness and tenderness afterwards.

After having breakfast together in the room, you and Marcus visited the stables. You had become quite skilled at grooming lately, and it was incredibly peaceful. However, there was another reason for your visit. While you were absent-mindedly combing Unio's mane, thinking about what Hanno had said. You were having second thoughts about going to the place he mentioned. Would he have to escape again to get there? How had he ended up in Rome? How did he become a gladiator? You were startled by Marcus' touch on your waist. Unio let out a neigh as you accidentally tugged on her mane. To soothe her, you gently touched her nose and gave her a kiss.

"I see you really enjoy that, my lady," Marcus said with a warm smile.

You returned his smile. "I do. It has such a calming effect." You tapped the brush to remove the hair from its bristles.

Marcus let out a light sigh. "Well, I must admit that what I'm about to ask you to do might not be as calming." You raised your eyebrows in curiosity and narrowed your eyes when you spotted the wooden sword in his hand. "But this... it's made of wood..."

"I wouldn't hand you a sharp sword for your first lesson," he said firmly.

You placed the brush in the basket and picked up the sword, clutched it with both hands, examining. It was heavier than it looked. "It feels a bit like a toy," you murmured.

He touched yours with his wooden sword. "Rule number one: Whatever weapon you wield, you must forge an unbreakable bond with it; treat it as part of your arm.”

Your caring husband, Marcus, had quickly transformed into your stern General, Acacius.

"Yes, General," you muttered.

He smirked. "If you master this, you can begin using a real steel sword.” he encouraged you. "Remember, finding balance is essential in your early lessons."

"Balance?"

He nodded. "It's like dancing—using the right steps. Come with me; I'll show you what I mean." He took your hand and led you out of the stables, where he had taught you how to use a knife.

"Aren't you supposed to be on duty today?" you asked.

"I am, but I have time before I take my leave. Come."

When you reached the wide open space, Marcus took the wooden sword from your hand and stood in front of you.

"First, you must improve your agility. Catch it, princess!"

He tossed one of the swords towards you, but you weren't able to catch it, so it fell to the ground. “Whoa!” You bent down to pick it up. “Why did you... "It's not as if I'm planning to attack my enemy by throwing it."

He narrowed his eyes. “I see you’re feeling confident. Alright, what are you going to do with it? How will you use it? Tell me.”

"I should just stick the pointy end into my enemy, right?"

He grinned smugly. “Do you really think it’s that simple, my lady?”

You shrugged. “It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

He opened his arms. “Very well then, strike me.”

With both hands, you gripped the sword tightly. Suddenly, you realized it wasn't as easy as you had thought, but you were determined not to embarrass yourself in front of him. Marcus struggled to hold back his laughter at the expression on your face. Ignoring him, you raised the sword and lunged toward him. As you initiated your attack, he effortlessly pushed your sword away with a flick of his hand, barely moving his arm. You staggered backward, nearly dropping the sword.

"It’s not as easy as it seems, is it? That’s why I’m telling you to focus on your balance first. In time, you’ll understand what I mean, and when I throw it to you, it will be much easier to catch. Now, think of it as a real sword and show me how you hold it. Try again." This seemed simple, but it quickly became clear from the look on his face that I was doing something wrong. “Now you are standing wrong. Turn your body side-face, yes.”

He came over and put one hand on your waist and the other under your chin. "Just, so, yes." Then he looked at your feet. "Spread your legs."

"I can do that," you said, grinning widely, thinking about things you did in your bedroom, like how he spreads your legs in there.

Be ready to be mine...

He kissed your cheeks, where they had blushed, and your naughty thoughts were replaced by a desire.

"Focus, princess."

"Apologies. I was thinking about something..." You batted your eyelashes.

He brought his face closer to yours. "Are you trying to get away from your training by seducing me, hm?"

"Maybe I am." You giggled.

"Well, you succeeded."

He leaned in and kissed you on the lips.You let go of the sword and put your arms around his neck, and the moment you touched his hair, the inevitable thing happened again – he lost it!  He wrapped his arms around your waist, deepening the kiss. You let his tongue enter your mouth, and everything else in the place and the reason you were there flew away, there was only him and your warm breath through your nostrils, caressing each other's cheeks. Your hearts were beating rapidly with excitement. When you heard footsteps approaching, your lips suddenly stopped moving, breaking the kiss. Pulling himself back with some difficulty, he smiled at you, licked his lips, then turned his head in that direction.But you didn't, instead, you ran your eyes over his side view, admiring his gorgeous face.

"General!"It was Cato's voice.You pulled your hands away, but Marcus' hands were still around your waist.

"Cato, is something wrong?”

"I've been informed the Council is meeting today, sir. And Emperor Geta said he'd like to see you there during the session." Then he looked at you. "You too, my lady."

You frowned.

"Thank you Cato, get the carriage ready then."

"There's no need," you said firmly. "I’d better not attend."

Marcus lifted his eyebrows. "Do you have other plans, my lady?"

You looked away. "It’s an official council meeting. I don’t think there’s any need to disturb the Senate members with the presence of a woman. Besides, I planned to visit my cousin Paulina today."

For some reason, your tone sounded so convincing that it even surprised you.

"Is that so? You didn't mention that," Marcus said.

"I was going to..." you lied, feeling a wave of self-hatred wash over you.

Marcus's eyes weren't skeptical as they roamed over your face. "Well, I think it's better that you're there than at the council."

"I agree. Come, let me help you dress appropriately," you replied, grabbing his arm. He smiled, allowing you to pull him inside.

After Marcus left the villa with Cato, you made your decision to meet Hanno. You nursed Marcius and handed him over to Norell, then went up to your chambers to get dressed. It was almost noon by this time. Everyone in the villa believed you were going to visit your cousin, including Decima, who accompanied you in the carriage. However, when the carriage was halfway to its destination, you ordered the driver to take you through the streets of Rome instead. You put on your cloak, ignoring Decima, who looked at you in astonishment.

“I thought we were going to your aunt Antonia’s house?” 

“No, we’re not.” 

She opened her eyes wide. “Are we going to stalk the general again?” 

You glared at her. “No, of course not.” 

“Then where are we going?” 

You tied the laces of your cloak and replied, “Decima, trust me and don’t ask questions. I promise I’ll tell you everything later. Stop the carriage!” 

The coachman obeyed your command and halted the carriage on the east side of the Colosseum. The gladiator school was on its left, and the popina was at the corner of the street. 

“There are no houses or shops here,” she muttered. 

“I know,” you said, pulling the hood over your face and stepping out of the carriage. Decima stood up as well, but you stopped her. 

“I’ll go alone.” 

“But Aurelia—” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be safe. I won’t be long, and Decima, this is between us, alright?”

She nodded. “Fine, but please be careful.”

“I will be,” you replied with a smile and began walking into the crowd. You weren’t wearing much jewelry; the last thing you wanted was for someone to realize you were their princess.

The street was less crowded than you had expected. Many people were discussing today’s council meeting and moving at a brisk pace toward the Roman Forum. Perhaps most people had gathered there, which would work to your advantage. When a group of passersby glanced your way, you quickly turned your head.

“Did you hear that General Acacius is attending too?” one person said.

“Yes, I wonder if the princess will be there,” another replied.

“We’re going there to see her anyway,” one continued.

“I think she will definitely attend,” another added.

“I’ll finally get to see her up close,” someone else said.

You smiled to yourself. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled quietly.

After passing through a few more people, you looked around. You were now passing the gladiator school, and you shuddered as you remembered how you had last been imprisoned there. Then you thought of Hanno—how did he end up here? It was just one of a thousand questions you wanted to ask him. You quickened your pace, and when you saw the popina’s signboard, your heart began to race with anxiety.

The harmonious music, accompanied by the sounds of laughter and conversation from within, extended into the street, fostering an inviting atmosphere but not for everyone, apparently.

Please don't let anyone recognize me. Please don't let anyone recognize me.

You pushed open the double-leaf door. The people standing nearby turned their heads to see who was coming in, but they couldn't see your face and soon returned to their chat. One person glanced at you with curiosity but quickly looked away. Suddenly, the music stopped, and you froze, but it had nothing to do with your entrance—it was just a coincidence.

Soon, the music began again. You took a deep breath of relief and moved forward, scanning the tables one by one. You noticed a man in a black cloak sitting alone in the corner. You moved there and tilted your head to see his face, but first, you glanced around to ensure no one else was sitting alone. It must have been him. You leaned toward him and whispered, “Hanno?"

You were so startled when the man looked up at you that you jumped back. A bulky man with numerous scars on his face scrutinized you and then raised his eyebrows with a low curse. “Am I high already?” he asked himself.

“Oh, forgive me. I thought you were someone else,” you stammered.

He grinned widely, showing all his teeth. “I’ll be whoever you want me to be, beautiful.”

Just as you were about to turn away, his large hand grabbed your wrist. “Come on, sit down and have a drink with me—just one drink.” He pulled you toward the chair.

Was he drunk? At this time of day?

You struggled to free your arm, but you couldn’t even budge it. “Let go of my arm!”

“Come now, don’t be stubborn. A beauty like you doesn’t come along every day.”

“Look, I’m a married woman, and you wouldn’t even want to know who my husband is.”

He frowned.

“Let her go!”

You turned your head in the direction of the familiar voice. Hanno had pushed the man's arm away. “Damn it, Aldhard, didn’t I tell you not to drink after the opium?”

You crossed your arms. “So you two know each other?”

Hanno rolled his eyes. “Don’t ask.”

The man stood up and looked at both of you. “You little shit. You never told me you had such a beautiful friend. So that’s why you’re always running away, huh?”

“Go back and get some rest. You can’t go out in the arena tomorrow like this.”

The man huffed as he turned to walk away. “That’s why I’m drinking, you bastard.” He left, muttering curses in his native language that you had never heard before.

Hanno turned to you. “Forgive me for being late. But it’s hard to get out of there.”

You sat down in a chair and exhaled deeply. “Hanno, it’s strange to see you here after all this time. Especially as a gladiator.”

He settled into the chair where his friend had just been sitting. “It’s quite the story,” he said, raising his arm to catch the keeper’s attention. “I’m surprised you came, you know.”

“It wasn’t easy,” you replied.

“I guess you came secretly from your husband.” He smiled crookedly.

“I came secretly from everyone. You know why.”

"Yes, I was quite surprised to hear that. I can't believe you're a princess. I always knew you were special, but..."

A little later, a young man brought you a jug of wine and two glasses, along with a platter of chicken for two.

"The chicken here is really good. Come on, eat,” he said, spooning some onto his plate, opening his mouth wide, and starting to eat with appetite.

You reminisced about the meals you had shared together in the tavern back in Egypt.

“Forget about me and tell me about yourself,” you said as you dipped your spoon into the food. “How did you get to Rome? How did you become a gladiator, and where have you been all this time?” You brought the spoon to your mouth, not because you were hungry, but because the smell was enticing, and you wanted to taste it.

He didn’t look at you and continued to eat. “I was brought here by your husband.”

You nearly choked on your morsel, coughed, and sipped your wine. “What did you say?”

“As a prisoner of war.”

“Or did you fight alongside the Persian army against Rome?” Your voice was louder than you intended, causing nearby people to turn their heads. Hanno glared at them, and they quickly looked away.

“Hanno, what happened? Tell me everything.”

His blue eyes clouded, and his expression hardened. “Alright. That night…” He took a deep breath. “I mean, the night the rebels raided the Roman military camp. By the time I got there, they had taken all the Medici from the Valetudinarium.”

“Oh, right. Where were you that night?”

“I heard one of my friends was injured during the revolt, so I decided to go help him. When I entered the room to tell him I was leaving, Vicius mentioned that you were asleep. That turned out to be the last time I saw both you and him." He took a sip of his drink, looking gloomy. "The next day, Vicius' body was brought to the Valetudinarium along with the other Medicii. I personally took care of his funeral, all of his friends were deeply saddened. However, what was even more haunting was what they said. They claimed they saw you among the prisoners. They had killed him, and not only that, but they had also taken you as a prisoner. I was so angry that I ran to the harbor, but I couldn't catch up. The Roman ships had already sailed out to sea, just about to disappear over the horizon."

Your eyes filled with tears as you recalled that night.

"I apologize for not coming here sooner. My mother was sick, and I was occupied with her treatment, but I couldn’t save her. There were also many other patients to care for. Vicious was a skilled medicus; he was irreplaceable."

“Hanno, I'm sorry.”

“Aya, or Aurelia,” he said with a sad grin. “Why did you marry him? How did it happen?”

“Hanno, look…”

He interrupted, “After what happened to Vicius, all I could think about was coming here, finding you, and running away with you. I was certain you would be sold into slavery, and I couldn't sleep at night knowing you might be living a terrible life.”

“I wasn’t, actually. I love him, Hanno. He’s my life now. "We were planning to come here with Vicius, and now you know the specific reason why.”

“So, it turns out you and Vicius had a secret, huh?” He laughed. “All that time you were hiding in the Valetudinarium, trying hard to pass as a man, never going out in public, and his overprotectiveness toward you… I mean, it was obvious there was a reason, but I never expected you to be a Roman princess. I don't know what to say.”

“I found out when I came here, but how did you know I was married to the general?”

“Last week, I saw the two of you at the temple. People are always talking about you two. That day, they made us put on a little fighting demonstration at the Roman Forum. Honestly, I had a hard time recognizing you at first; you looked quite different from before.”

“I’m still the same person.”

“I doubt that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You're different; you've changed. Maybe your experiences have altered you, just like they have for me.”

“Why did you fight with the Roman army? You're not a soldier.”

“They needed a medicus and promised high payment. And you think I can't fight or something? Have you forgotten how many times I saved you from those filthy rats? They kept saying you were a scrawny young man and forced you to fight with them. Don’t you remember how I beat them up, girl?”

You laughed. “Yes, I remember.”

“Fighting against Roman soldiers seemed tempting to me. They said the rebels had joined forces with a small army in Syria organized by a Roman consul.”

“Macrinus?”

“No idea. I've never met him.”

“You can't. He's dead.”

“I bet your husband killed him, great Roman general.” He said mockingly.

You frowned and said, “Please don't talk about him like that. He's the bravest, most honorable man I know, and he's not as bad as you think. He’s also kind and understanding.”

“How touching. He wasn’t so innocent when he slaughtered hundreds on the battlefield, you know. He was like a beast.”

“It’s called war. What did you expect him to do? That’s what you did too—you fought and killed people, didn’t you? Besides, Vicius was killed by one of his soldiers, and he avenged him by killing that soldier in return.”

“But he took you prisoner—made you a slave.”

“He didn’t know who I was.”

Suddenly, he was distracted by the loud laughter of the women at the next table. You both turned your heads to look in that direction. Hanno reached towards you and pulled your hood more in front of your face.

“Don’t stare at them; we’ll get in trouble if they recognize you. And the ones sitting right behind us? They’re Spaniards. Believe me, they hate the Romans as much as I do. So whatever you do, don’t attract their attention.”

You didn't even want to ask why, but it was clear that the men and women were romantically involved, and the Spaniards seemed to be quite fierce characters. Suddenly, you realized that coming here might not have been such a good idea.

“Hanno, who bought you? If I talk to your master, maybe I can persuade him to set you free.”

He laughed. “I’m not a Roman, but I know that’s not how it works here. Tomorrow, I must fight in the Colosseum and win. That will bring me one step closer to my freedom.”

Your chest suddenly tightened. “But the Colosseum is too dangerous.”

“Are you worried about me?” he grinned. “Don’t be. I can take care of myself.”

“I’ll talk to my brother. I don’t know; there must be a way.”

He laughed hysterically. “Your brother? You mean the emperor? It’s not like he’s going to care about me. I don’t suppose you’ve heard the rumors about him.”

“He’s changed. He’s an emperor who cares about his people now.”

“Is he now?”

“Tell me his name. Who bought you?”

“Aya,” he growled.

“Tell me.”

“What will your husband say if you buy me?”

That was the real question. You sighed nervously.

“That’s what I thought.”

He raised his glass to his lips and drank it all.

Then he looked back over your shoulder. “Shit.”

“What the—”

“When I say so, we’ll run outside together, alright?”

“What? Why?”

“They realized I escaped. Again.”

"But why am I running? You're the one they're looking for." 

"It's him! Stop right there!" 

You stood up and looked over. It was the same guys from last time; they knew who you were. You tensed and took a step back, but suddenly you realized someone was touching you on your hips. In a fit of rage, you turned around and hurled his drink in his face.

"Do you think I'm a whore, you filthy bastard?" 

As the man angrily wiped the wine from his face, you immediately regretted what you had done. When he stood up, the others did too. “Jódete, maldita perra (Fuck you, stupid whore)!”

“Watch your mouth, cabrón!” Hano yelled.

Your eyes and mouth widened when the men drew their swords, and you instinctively hid behind Hanno.

"I suppose you have a reason to run now," Hanno whispered to you.

One of the men who had come to take Hanno held up a hand to stop them.

"Return to your table now," he ordered.

“Do not tell me what to do, maricón!”

“What did you say?” He drew his sword.

“He said arsehole to you,” Hanno translated with a grin.

“Damn Spinards, I shall cut your tongue!”

Hanno seized the opportunity amidst the chaos and pushed him onto the other man, causing both of them to collapse to the floor. The impact knocked over a table, spilling drinks and food everywhere and creating quite a mess. Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted dramatically, and everyone began to fight with one another. Hanno grabbed your arm and shouted, “Time to run!" He pulled you along as you both fled the scene.

When you got out into the street, you kept running faster, because the other men kept running after you.

“So you can speak spanish!” you shouted as you ran alongside him, your eyes scanning for the carriage.

“Only swear words!” he replied.

“Ugh! I hate you!”

“I’m not the one who spilled his drink all over his face!”

“You're the one swearing at them!”

The guys chasing after you were shouting something in spanish, and it was not hard to guess what they were saying.

“Aren’t you a gladiator? Can’t you fight them off?”

He laughed nervously. “I don’t think you realize how many there are.”

You looked back, and your eyes widened when you saw at least ten people.

“Where the hell did they come from?”

“I warned you about Spaniards! They are overprotective!”

“The carriage is just over there!” You said, pointing east of the Colosseum. “If we can get there-“

“No, not the carriage! They'll catch us before we get on!”

“What are we going to do?”

“I know a safe place; if I hide you there, I can escape them myself.”

When you looked back, they were still running insistently. Desperately, you searched for the carriage, realizing you had no choice but to follow Hanno. Fortunately, you soon reached the place he had mentioned. It was the barn of a house.

“The owner is old and deaf; he doesn’t come to the barn much,” Hanno said as he removed hay bales one by one to create a hiding spot for you. “Come, you’ll be safe here.”

“But for how long? What will you do?”

“I'm going to make them follow me down the road and I'm going to grab a sword from one of them and fight them. After I get them away from here, you run to your carriage, alright?”

You nodded. “Be careful.”

He smiled and looked back as the voices drew closer. "Hide well," he said before leaving the barn. You could hear his footsteps followed by those of his pursuers. You waited patiently until all the sounds faded away. Soon, the only noise was the gentle bleating of the lambs.

Standing up, you began to push the hay bales aside one by one. The smell was almost unbearable; if you were pregnant like before, you would have been violently sick. You brushed the straw out of your hair with your hands. Your legs ached from running, but you knew you had to reach the carriage no matter what.

You slowly stepped into the courtyard of the house, observing your surroundings. Fortunately, no one was in sight, except for the chickens, which, frightened by your presence, scattered away. The street was quiet, with just a few people who looked at you with curiosity, but you were too exhausted to care. After walking a bit further, you realized that you were very close to the street where the carriage was located, so you picked up your pace and walked there with relief.

Decima asked you questions along the way that you struggled to answer, and you responded as simply as possible. However, your real fear was what you would face when you got home—your clothes and everything else were a complete mess. You needed to get home before Marcus arrived. You couldn't help but worry about Hanno. Would he be able to fight those guys off? Would he be able to save himself? You had known him well since childhood, and you shared many memories together that were impossible to forget. No one could have predicted that things would turn out this way; it felt like a cruel twist of fate.

When you arrived at the villa, it was already evening. You and Decima got out of the carriage and walked into the courtyard. As soon as you stepped inside, you froze. Marcus was standing in the center, still wearing his formal white toga. He struggled to drape the shawl over his shoulder, as he didn't often wear this type of toga. However, the stern and confused expression on his face wasn't due to this difficulty; it was because he saw you with your clothes in disarray.

"Leave us alone," he said sharply, his gaze fixed on you. There was no one else around; he had directed that command at Decima. You bit your lip as she left the courtyard, leaving the two of you alone. He stepped towards you, inspecting you from head to toe so quietly that you wondered if he was trying to suppress his anger. Finally, he exhaled a deep, ragged breath, his dark brown eyes boring into yours.

"Where have you been?" he asked in a deep, almost growling voice. "I need an explanation right now."

@orcasoul @pedroslut4eva @immyowndefender @lailathepedritofan @screechingchildfury @shinymusicpanda @somedayheaven @ivoryandflame @negrita2345 @music-lover09 @javiismyhsbnd @idontcareihavenoidea @jisungandpedrolover @mmkkzz @ro-nahime-things @indiegirlunited @kluvspedro @movievillainess721 @berriesarepunk @bonadeamo @heramj @blushingwueen @smoochispoof @littlemisspascal @kirashess @okaaaadereeee @this--is--music @mmkkzz @ro-nahime-things @indiegirlunited @kluvspedro @movievillainess721 @berriesarepunk @bonadeamo @heramj @blushingwueen @smoochispoof @littlemisspascal @kirashess @melsunshine @meetmeatyourworst @footballfangirl94 @daejangandimja @ariesandwolves @hooomansstuff @vlonerv @chewie-bars @dendulinka6 @lucienofthelakes @superqueenearthquake

your likes, comments and reblogs are soo important to me, and thank you for all support, love you all❤️

if anyone wants me to tag them please comment or msg me :)

[ohmytyong]

meet-cute

⤹ now playing: the christmas waltz by frank sinatra

PAIRING: stranger!jaehyun x female!reader

GENRE: smut (minors dni!!), strangers to lovers (?) au, fluff

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, pet names (baby), explicit sexual content; unprotected sex (!always use protection!), heavy make out, nipple play, slight hair pulling, aftercare, pretty vanilla tbh

WC: 3,4k

SYNOPSIS: you were bummed that you had to spend Christmas all alone in a foreign country after your friends left you behind. little did you you would find a charming stranger to keep you company

A/N: merry christmas to everyone celebrating! here's a little gift from me to you <3

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

The muffled voices of people chatting around you mixed with the old christmas song playing from the bar's speakers filled the silence of your mind like a white noise. You whiffed the sweet scent of the red wine swirling inside the glass you were holding as you moved your hand from side to side, making you aware of your surroundings.

Despite it being Christmas eve, the bar was fuller than what you had expected. You would expect people to be gathered up at their homes, eating and having fun with all their loved ones, exchanging gifts and wishes and then getting wasted, laughing at the weird relative who had some more sips of alcohol than the others.

However, it turns out more people had the same fate as you. Sitting alone, in pairs, or in small groups at probably the only open bar in milan on this jolly day. You were informed about the jazz band that usually played live music here, yet you went to the place the only day of the year that they weren't there. Though it was kinda obvious they wouldn't be here today; it's Christmas eve for God's sake.

You took a sip of your wine, closing your eyes to savor the taste. You didn't know what it was, but the bartender definitely found your exact preference; sweet and strong on the tongue which leaves a slightly bitter aftertaste at the back of your throat.

As you set the glass down at the bar counter, you noticed a gust of air on your side, signaling someone else's presence. The woody masculine cologne that engulfed your nostrils made your head turn discreetly to the side, trying to take a glimpse of the man that it belonged to.

"A glass of Johnnie please, no ice," a soft baritone voice addressed the bartender and you couldn't help but fully turn your body towards the man, angling yourself in a position that showed your interest towards him yet keeping a safe distance.

The man definitely noticed your antics. You felt his fiery gaze look you up and down, taking in your full appearance. You flipped your hair, moving it all to the back which exposed your bare shoulder and upper chest. You noticed with the corner of your eye that the man drew in a sharp breath, shifting his body from side to side on the barstool. Your technique worked.

As you stretched your arm to grab your glass of wine, your heard the man clear his throat. "Now why would a beautiful lady sit alone at a jazz bar on Christmas eve?" the velvety baritone voice asked and the question was addressed to none other than you.

You finally met the man's gaze for the first time. He was gorgeous. His jet black hair was nicely styled, parted in the middle and framing his heavenly structured face, falling a bit long at the nape of his neck. His dress shirt was sitting tightly around his shoulders and chest, in contrast with the tie he was wearing which was hanging rather loosely around his neck. His sleeves were rolled up and you noticed his arm muscles flex as he brought the scotch glass to his lips, his watch glimmering under the dim lighting.

"Funny enough, I was about to ask the exact same thing," you played along, hiding your flirty smirk behind your glass of wine.

"You're looking for a beautiful lady too?" he asked, his eyes creasing as he smiled teasingly.

You chuckled at that, covering your mouth with you hand. So he had a sense of humor. "I meant a handsome man. But whatever rows your boat," you decided to play along, flirt with him too.

His eyes were piercing. He looked at you as if he were walking for miles in the dry desert and you were an oasis just a little ahead of him, like he was desperate to drink you all up. It would be lie though if you denied that you weren't looking at him the same way.

"I mean," he said between low chuckles, "there has to be a good reason why you're here. And alone," he finished, waiting for your answer.

You sighed deeply, tapping your fingers on the counter. "I was supposed to spend Christmas with my friends but they decided to be assholes and pull a prank on me. They dumped me. Told me we were going to Milan while they are in Vienna right now," you said, downing the remaining wine in your glass in one go.

The man visibly winced at what you said, as if he was physically in pain. "I'm sorry to hear that. That's so cruel, wow," he said, reaching out a confident hand to grab your hand resting on the counter, giving it an apologetic squeeze. Oh he knows what he's doing.

"What's your excuse for being here, pretty boy?" you asked playfully and he smiled. "My story isn't as sad as yours, it's actually kinda funny. My uh- my flight got canceled. I was in Milan for work and I was supposed to go home for the holidays but..." he trailed off, pressing his lips.

"Damn, i'm sorry," you said and you decided to flirt back now. Gaining dominance over his hand, you squeezed it, rubbing circles with your thumb over the back of his hand.

You noticed his eyes fixate on the spot your bodies were touching. Without realizing it, your barstool had moved closer to his and you could feel the heat of his body radiating along with the strong scent of his cologne. You hoped your perfume hadn't worn off after hours of wearing it.

"Actually," he spoke up, removing his hand from your grip, "something good came out of all this misfortune. I'm sitting at a nice cozy place with a beautiful lady to keep me company. Not that bad, isn't it? I'm Jaehyun by the way," he offered you his name, stretching his arms for a proper handshake.

It was ironic. You had already held hands without even introducing yourselves to each other. You giggled at the gesture and he smiled at your reaction, eagerly waiting for your name and your handshake with his arm still stretched towards you.

You gave him your name as you returned the handshake. The sight of the two of you must have looked somewhat awkward from a third person's point of view, but for you the interaction between you and Jaehyun had a warmth to it.

You didn't say it out loud like he did, but spending time with a lovely handsome stranger in a foreign place on Christmas eve wasn't as bad as it sounded.

You didn't realize it but you and Jaehyun had already been talking for almost two hours. Time passed by quickly, you were having a great time with him. He was weirdly charming, flirting with you in a slightly uncomfortable way despite the aura of confidence he radiated. He cracked jokes more than you expected and always found silly excuses to touch you, anywhere he could, signaling his obvious interest towards you.

It would be a lie if you said you weren't as interested in him, if more than he was. You found yourself laughing at everything he said, and you didn't mind the soft touches of his hand here and there. In fact, you craved them even more. You craved him. After two hours of talking, you weren't sure if it was the wine, the sleepiness or the pure lust you were feeling, but you couldn't bring yourself to listen to everything he said. You were lost in his eyes, his lips, his hands, his scent. You were sober enough to understand the pure attraction you had for him.

The bar was now almost empty. You saw the bartender cleaning some tables in the back, and only two groups of friends were there beside you and Jaehyun. You took this as a signal to get leaving as soon as possible.

After arguing with Jaehyun over who gets to pay for the drinks, he ultimately won over you, being kind enough to pay for all your refills of wine. You were opposed to this at first, but his kind gesture made your want grow even more, and the aching sensation between your thighs became too noticeable to ignore.

You wrapped your coat closely around your neck as you stepped outside the bar in the crisp coldness of December. You couldn't just go back to your hotel room like this. The night was still young, and you weren't ready to leave Jaehyun just yet.

"So, any plans for the rest of the night?" you asked, trying to get some information you could use in your favor.

Jaehyun shrugged, lifting his shoulders. "Not really. I mean, I'm alone here so there isn't anything else to do during this time of the night," he said, but you noticed that he wanted to say more than that.

You decided to take initiative and help him out of his shyness. "I know it's gonna sound a bit weird but," you drew in a breath, shivering from the cold and the nervousness, "would you like to come over to my hotel room for one more round of drinks? It's almost Christmas" you said looking at your watch.

Jaehyun tried to suppress a smile that was threatening to spread on his lips. You had cracked him. You knew he wanted you as much as you wanted him, and neither of you were ready to let go of each other so easily. Besides, like he said, you were all alone here. You only knew each other and there wasn't anything more fun than to spend more time with a person you grew to like. He had no excuse to refuse your offer.

With a hesitant nod, he looked into your eyes, smiling softly as he tried to study the intentions behind your question. "Sure, why not?"

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jaehyun kicked the door of you hotel room closed as he kissed you deeply, his hands resting on your back while yours were wrapped around his neck. Dropping your bag on the floor, you hurriedly took off your shoes, throwing them somewhere around the room.

Jaehyun struggled a little untying his shoelaces, but you helped him get rid of his jacket, throwing it somewhere behind him. You let your coat fall off your body, and with a quick motion your hands were back to where they were, wrapped around jh neck, pulling him close to reach his lips again.

The kiss was electric. Your entire body heated up with lust as you tasted on his lips the mixture of the different alcoholic drinks you had consumed earlier. Jaehyun slipped his tongue into your mouth, lowering his hands to the small of your back as you cupped his cheek with one hand, the other gripping the locks of his hair. In the heat of the moment, he wasted no time cupping your ass, lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

On the short walk back to your hotel, you felt the constant need for him steadily rising and rising to the point you couldn't keep your hands to yourself anymore. It must've been hard for Jaehyun to keep his composure too, as he couldn't resist his urges anymore, kissing you in the elevator as you went up to the floor of your room.

You were both so needy for each other. Your tongues battled for dominance as Jaehyun lead you to the bed, dropping your body on the soft mattress as he towered above you, never breaking the kiss.

Your grip on his hair tightened, and he knew you wanted more. He attached his lips on your neck, pressing soft warm kissed along the sensitive area. He trailed his mouth from under your ear down to your already half-exposed chest and you mentally thanked yourself for choosing to wear a low-cut top. Soft moans escaped your lips as Jaehyun found all your favorite spots to kiss, smirking at the sounds that came out of your mouth.

His lips left your skin and you whined at the lack of his touch. He looked up into your eyes, searching for any type of consent, something that told him you needed him as badly as he needed you.

"What are we even doing?" he chuckled, running his fingers along your cheek.

You smiled at that. "i don't know,," you were honest with him. "But whatever it is, I like it. And I want it. Do you?" you asked him and he nodded quickly, resting his thumb on your lips.

"You have no idea" he said and in a second, his lips crashed with yours as he continued the battle of dominance you had previously started.

Jaehyun kept kissing you everywhere. No spot in your exposed body was left unattended by his soft lips, yet he needed more of you and you needed him in more places too. As if on cue, you arched your back to help him take off your top, followed shortly with an unclasp of your bra, the straps falling down your shoulders as he yanked it away. He immediately buried his face in your chest, sucking one nipple while teasing the other one with his fingers.

With trembling hands due to the pleasure, you loosened Jaehyun's tie, hastily unbuttoning his shirt. He sensed your struggle and detached himself from your boobs to help you get him undressed. Removing his shirt, he revealed his toned body to you, muscles flexing with every single of his movements. You didn't have enough time to fully appreciate his upper body as he dipped back in, not wanting to leave your nipples neglected.

Soft moans and whimpers left your lips as he kept on kissing you down your entire body, trailing your stomach down to your pants. Swiftly pulling the zipper, he slowly removed your pants and underwear, kissing your inner things along the way.

Your body jolted at the cold sensation of your naked core meeting the air in the room, and Jaehyun's mouth was so close to where you needed him the most that the thought alone made you even wetter.

Jaehyun took a step back to fully look at you. His pupils were dilated, eyes filled with nothing but lust and need. "Gosh you're so beautiful" he said in his low voice, a soft grunt escaping him as he unbuckled his belt, pulling down his pants and boxers revealing his own throbbing dick.

You gulped at the sight of his size, but it made you even more curious of how he would feel inside you. Jaehyun lowered himself above you, capturing your lips in a lazy passionate kiss.

"I really wanna take my time with you but I can't wait any longer. Do you think you can take me right now? No prep?" he asked you, the neediness in his eyes and voice so obvious, you could come undone any minute by now.

The truth is, you weren't sure if you could fit all of him inside you. But you needed him. you wanted him. The sooner the better. You couldn't take any more foreplay or teasing even though you'd like it. You just wanted to relase all the tension off your body.

"I can take it. I can take you," you said and you saw Jaehyun's eyes darken at your eager tone. He wasted no time, lining himself between your legs as he grabbed the base of his cock, bringing it to the opening of your folds.

"Are you sure you want this, Y/n?" Jaehyun asked you, waiting for your final answer, the one that would give me the green light to go.

You nodded. "yes, Jaehyun please. I want you right now," you pleaded and it was all that was needed for him to slowly thrust inside you, your velvety walls wrapping around his veiny length as he entered deeper and deeper until he bottomed out inside you, his hips touching yours.

A long moan was heard by both of you at the sensation of your bodies meeting in such an intimate way. "Fuck you're so warm" Jaehyun groaned and you moaned just at the sound he made, his eyes shut as he tried to fully feel you ad you took him all in.

Once you gave him the signal that he could move, he slowly lifted his hips, thrusting his dick in and out of your pussy, earning heavy breaths from you. Your arms searched for anchor at his toned back, digging your fingers in his shoulders as his thrusts grew faster and more eager, trying to get you to moan louder for him.

And it worked. As he kept on reaching spots so deep you never thought anyone could ever reach, Jaehyun kissed down your neck, groaning at the sound of your continuously louder moans, smirking on your skin when he pinched your nipped and you squealed, leaving out a high-pitched scream.

"You're so good at this Jae, you make me feel so good" you said in between moans and the nickname worked like magic for him. His breathing became heavier, burying his head on the crook of your neck as his thrusts became sloppier.

"Fuck you're such a good girl for me, I'm- fuck" Jaehyun's voice was mumbled as he spoke in the mattress, your moaning growing louder and louder.

"Please Jae I wanna cum, it's so good," you whispered, your breathing becoming sharper as he pressed a finger on your clit, rubbing it softly as he angled your hips higher to gain more access inside you. Your legs wrapped tight around his waist as his body was pressed closely on top of you. Jaehyun tried to kiss you, but the burning sensation between your legs kept you moaning inside his mouth, your eyes rolling in the back of your head as you reached closer to your climax.

"Jae I'm- I-" you tried to speak but the pleasure was too much for your brain to properly work.

Jaehyun never stopped nor changed his movements, quickly understanding what you like and what makes you a whimpering mess under him. "Come on baby, cum for me" he groaned as he kept on going, rubbing your clit slightly faster.

Your legs shook around his waist, a loud cry leaving your lips as you came around his cock. Jaehyun kept on going, riding you through your high as he chased his own. Hearing your soft moans, he came not long after you, warm liquid filling you up as your throbbing walls clenched around his length.

The two of you stayed like this for a while. Jaehyun only pulled out of you once his breathing was more steady, and you winced at the sudden emptiness you felt without his body inside you, or even on top of you.

Jaehyun layed for a few more seconds before he got up, searching for his boxers around the room. "I'm gonna get some tissues to clean you up, is that alright baby?" the pet name felt so natural coming from him. It was weird that it didn't really hit you when he said it during sex, but right now it made your stomach twitch.

Jaehyun went to the bathroom and came back holding some tissues. You moved your body towards him and let him clean you up from all the remaining liquids he had spilled on you. You found the gesture adorable, especially when you saw the concentration on his face, trying to leave absolutely no dirty spot on your body.

You thanked him for it and got up to find some clean clothes you could wear to sleep. Jaehyun was too comfortable getting under the bedsheets, laying in your bed as a sign that he would stay the night.

Fishing his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket, he read the time. It was way past midnight by now, and neither of you noticed how quickly time had passed when you had such a great time with each other.

His lips tugged into a playful smile before he spoke. "Look, it's past midnight. Merry Christmas!" he said as you climbed into bed beside him.

You laughed at his enthusiasm and sighed, turning to face him. If you were to tell yourself that you wouldn't spend Christmas with your friends this year but rather with a hot total stranger you came across at a jazz bar, you wouldn't believe it. But now, nuzzling into his chest, hearing the slow and steady beating of his heart, you were content with this turn of events.

You cupped the side of his face and his cheek rested heavy in your palm as he leaned his head to your touch. You pressed a soft peck on his lips, smiling. "Merry Christmas".

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

TAGS: @peachjaem00 @bbyyhyuck @vdollys @positionslab @matchahyuck

@renjun-fairy @thoughtfulqueenlady @uwuheeseungie @back2jisung @xxxx-23nct

@markleefuckme @letmein2urheart

join my taglist !!

[chleem]

Not a big deal pt4

miniseries; basketball player drew x high scl student reader

Summary: You lose your virginity to a random guy at a frat party miles away from your home. A few days later, you find out that he’s your brother’s competitor, for the regional colleges’ basketball tournament. 

Genre: strangers to lovers, smut, angst, fluff

Warnings: cursing, age gap (18 & 24), protected sex (read at own caution

⋆.˚ please dont copy or translate my work!

♡⸝⸝ p3 | index | p5

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The ringing of your phone jolts you awake, no longer dreaming. 

Your head throbs, the bright sunlight seeping through the curtains only adding to the ache. The loud ring of your phone makes it hard to focus, and for a moment, you can’t quite piece together where you are.

But the arm wrapped around you reminds you of just where you are, and who you’re with. 

Slowly turning your face, you find yourself looking into Drew’s. He’s asleep, completely unaware to the loud ringing. His features are relaxed, eyelids closed, his breathing slow, and a small smile sits on his face. 

What is he dreaming about?

You focus on memorizing every inch of Drew’s face, studying the soft lines, the way his lashes rest against his skin, the gentle curve of his lips. 

A strange mix of disbelief and nostalgia swells inside you. He looks so much like the Drew from four years ago—the one you lost your virginity to. 

Part of you wonders if he’s still that same person, or if he’s changed just as much as you have.

Your phone quiets down eventually, your caller giving up. 

Well, at least you thought so. The ringing comes back, and this time, it causes Drew to flutter his eyes open. He rubs his eyes, yawning as he focuses his gaze to you. The small curve of his lips from earlier is replaced with a grin that stretches ear-to-ear, and his eyes hold a lazy look.

“Morning, baby,” his voice is deeper in the morning, a raspy coat layered on.

You mirror his smile, the nickname causing your heart to skip a beat, “morning.”

“How long have you been staring?”

“The whole night,” you teasingly say, which earns a low chuckle from him.

“No wonder I had a nightmare,” he jokes back, his arm going around you once again and pulling you close. He nudges his face into your neck, a groan escaping probably from the loud ringing phone, “who’s calling?”

You frown, your hand reaching behind you for your phone on the nightstand. 

You glance at the screen, Luke. Your brother? Why on earth is he calling now?

“I just woke up,” you say, forcing out a groan, trying to sound as casual as possible. You can hear Luke moving around on the other end of the line—his footsteps shuffling. 

“Shit, were you in a fucking coma? Open the fucking door.”

What. 

Your heart sinks at the sudden shift in his tone, a sharp tension filling your chest. That last part… Open the door?

You push Drew away, immediately sitting up. “Um, what do you mean-“

“I’m outside your room. Did you not hear, I rang the-“

The rest of Luke’s words fly by your ear. You were wide awake now, the weight of the situation sinking in. 

Luke’s outside of your door. Drew’s naked in your bed. 

You know Luke. You know how he reacts to things like this. And it’s not going to be pretty. His temper is explosive, like a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.

You cover your microphone, and whisper to Drew, “get. out.”

“What?” Drew chuckles, his voice dropping to a softer tone, confused by your sudden urgency. “Why are we whispering?”

Right after, Luke stops himself mid-sentence, his voice cutting through the line, sharp and loaded with suspicion. “…wait, are you with someone?”

“Get out,” you slap Drew’s arm to get him moving, mouthing the words, “Luke’s outside!”

Drew’s eyes widen the same way yours did before. He stumbles off the bed, catching himself just before he crashes to the floor. It would be funny if you weren’t on the risk of getting caught by your brother. “No, just, just give me a minute, yeah? I’m getting ready-“

You get out of bed too, the phone propped on your shoulder. Drew and your clothes are scattered around the floor, mixed together.

You put the phone on speaker, setting it on the nightstand as Luke's complaining echoes through the room. Quickly, you put on your nightgown, searching for a clean pair of underwear.

You glance at Drew. He’s in his boxers, scrambling to find his pants. Is he trying to get caught? “Hurry,” you whisper-yell, looking around for his clothes.

Drew shoots you a blank stare, moving to the other side of the bed.

“Are you done yet? My legs are dying-“

“Almost! Just wait, okay?” You yell back at the phone.

“Y/n, seriously, been out here for forever-“

You find his button-up from last night tucked under the couch, and you toss into his arms. A chuckle escapes his lips as he barely catches it. 

Drew walks past you with his shirt unbuttoned, tie and jacket in his hands. He grabs his shoes, and gets ready to open the door. 

You quickly pull him back, “are you stupid?” You mean that with all your heart; Luke is literally on the other side of the door, and he wants to open it? 

Instead, you swing open the bathroom door and shove Drew inside. "Stay here for a while, alright?”

"What, no—“

You slam the bathroom door shut without another word, then quickly turn to the front door, your hand already on the handle. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves before facing Luke. 

Forcing a smile, the door opens, impatience written all over Luke’s face. “Finally,” he mutters, brushing past you. His rudeness isn’t a surprise—it’s just how he is.

You mumble something under your breath, closing the door behind you. Luke’s already sprawled out on your couch, legs propped up casually like he owns the place.

At the same time, both of you spot the wine glasses on the coffee table, their presence suddenly hanging in the air, adding a layer of tension you can’t ignore.

“Alright, where is he?” Luke asks, his voice low but demanding as he sits up, scanning the room to find the owner of the other glass. 

Your first instinct is to stop him from getting anywhere near the bathroom. You quickly sit down beside Luke, your hand pushing him back onto the couch. “It’s... yours,” you say, the words coming out quicker than it should. 

Luke looks at you, confusion flickering in his eyes, then down at the wine glass, before he narrows his gaze. “What are you talking about?” he asks, his tone sharp now, sensing- no, knowing something's off. 

“Y’know, it’s a nice hotel, let’s have some coffee,” you say, a lame attempt at sounding casual. You grab the glasses, and with the coffee maker in the small kitchen, you press the open button. 

Sneaking a glance at your brother, his gaze never leaves you, his tongue poking against his tongue. 

“Latte? Oh, they have espresso,” you continue, keeping your voice steady, scrolling through the options. 

“No,” his voice stops you, and you turn around, watching as he gets up. “I gotta leave anyways.”

This time, the smile on your face isn’t fake. “So soon?”

“Yeah, just came to check on you,” Luke gives you a tight smile, his hand reaching for the door handle. “I’ll send an Uber, ‘kay?”

You nod, a bit too eagerly that shows your interest in him leaving. 

Although still suspicious, Luke gives you one last glance before opening the door and stepping out. “Take care of yourself,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost like he's unsure of what to make of the situation.

The door clicks shut behind him, and for a moment, all you can do is breathe, your shoulders relaxing for the first time since he walked in. 

Finally. 

Opening the bathroom door, you look around for Drew. 

Only to find him laying in the bathtub, fully clothed, his tall figure awkwardly trying to fit in the small space. His arms are thrown out to either side, and his fingers fidget with his ring. 

You lean against the doorframe, and when his blue eyes peek at you, a smile appears on his lips. “Hey,” he says, “made myself a home here, I guess.”

You chuckle at his words, and you sit down at the edge of the tub. “Real comfortable there.”

Drew lets out a breathy laugh, shifting lightly. He glances at his watch, the smile fading just a bit, “I’ve got to go too.”

Right, team practice. 

A brief, almost impulsive thought crosses your mind—to ask him for his number, to stay in touch. Is that a ridiculous thought? You’re not sure. You’re not even sure why the idea is lingering, but it feels... right, somehow. Maybe because, despite everything, you don’t want this moment to end so soon.

At least, not with this Drew. 

Your chain of thoughts breaks, with a tough tug on your wrist. 

When you’ve come to your senses, you’re in the tub with him, seated in his lap. 

The warmth radiating off of him is ridiculously comfortable, the blue eyes almost smitten as they look into yours. 

You lean into him, closing your eyes, instinctively tilting your face toward his. You can feel the breath between you both, the tension building, and just as you’re about to close the distance—nothing.

No contact.

You peek at him through one eye, a little confused.

A throaty laugh escapes him, full of amusement. 

Shyly, you move away, only to be pulled back towards him, his hand finding the back of your neck. 

And then, he finally kisses you, gentle yet affectionate. 

It feels different than last night; The kiss feels deeper, more meaningful, and the thought that it might end soon makes your chest tighten with an ache. 

To last longer, you rest your arms around his neck, thrusting your tongue deeper into his mouth. 

Another chuckle escapes Drew, and he pulls away this time. 

With hooded eyes, you catch the soft smile on his lips. “Tryna get me in trouble?” The teasing tone in his voice makes your stomach flutter, along with the way he stares at you. 

“Maybe,” you giggle, and with a roll of your hips against him, he groans, his hands squeezing your waist. He rests his head at the rim of the tub, and you take the chance to kiss his neck. 

“Could be late-“ his words come out hushed, as your tongue grazes over the soft skin of his neck, “a minute or two.”

“Mmhm,” you bring your lips back up to his, and you kiss him again, this time, hungry and demanding. Your hips roll against his, and you could feel his boner poking your inner thigh. 

Your heart speeds up at the thought of doing it right here with Drew, in the bathtub. 

One of his hand slips under your nightgown; kneading your ass. 

It’s the way his blue eyes lustfully stare up at yours, that you continue rubbing your pussy against his lower abdomen. 

Drew readjusts his position, to allow the dent in his pants to rub closer to your wet pussy, your hips riding off the closeness. His low grunts sounds like music to your ears, the occasional rise of his hips offering more satisfaction to your core. 

“You like that?” Drew's voice, low and raspy, breaks the noise of soft moans and grunts, as his hand gently tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Grinding on my cock?”

Fuck. Your brain races with the thoughts of last night, his cock buried deeply in you. The hard length fucking the senses out of you. 

“Drew…” you moan out, sounding more desperate than expected. Your hands clutch on his suit jacket in tight fists, bouncing yourself on his clothed length. 

A breathless chuckle leaves his mouth, his other hand resting at the back of your neck. You feel the rough and cold material of his ring against your jaw, his thumb grazing the skin of your bottom lip. 

“Don’t stop, baby,” he coos, and you feel his dick twitch beneath you. The subtle movement sends your mind into further frenzy, encouraging the orgasm building inside of you. 

Ring! Ring! Ring! 

This time, the sound comes from inside the bathroom, in the tub, the phone that lays beside Drew’s thigh. 

You don’t even glance at it, consumed with building your orgasm. 

He’s not gonna answer anyways-

Drew picks it up, a mischievous grin on his face. “Hey,” he breathes into the phone. 

A moan escapes your lips, and he sticks two fingers into your mouth, deep until it hits the back of your throat. Gagging, you cough out, which makes Drew chuckle softly, a mumbled “sorry” escaping his lips, followed by a quiet, ‘shhh.’

You feel a knot grow in your lower stomach, as he raises his hips and thrusts into yours. You suck at the fingers in your mouth, the ring rubbing against your cheek. 

“Nothing- I’m working out,” he forces out, speaking into the phone. There’s a certain thrill in his voice, a hint of excitement that lingers as he speaks. 

He couldn’t be honest and say currently having your sister ride against my cock.

Although, the thought turns him on more, and he feels another twitch down at his dick.

“Mhm,” he hums mindlessly into the phone, leaning his head back. His mouth parts in awe, forcing his eyes to stay open. 

The hand on your ass grips tighter, averting all the desire to moan there. 

Whimpering against his fingers, you feel the knot inside of you come undone, the warm juice flowing out and definitely staining your underwear. 

You stop sucking his fingers, and you send him a lazy smile, your hips moving slower to ride your orgasm out. When you glance down at his pants, you can see the light stain, yours or his unsure. 

“What, no-“ his brows furrow together, listening in on whoever’s on the other line. 

You move back further until you’re no longer on his lap; tilting your head to study his face. 

But Drew’s hand catches yours, and guides it to the bulge in his pants. He’s still hard. 

You almost moan at the feeling of his thick length underneath your fingertips, Drew stifling back moans too. 

With that, your hands work its magic; palming and massaging his dick, as Drew tries his best to listen intently on the phone. 

“Mhm, yeah,” he agrees into the phone, his voice hitching slightly to hold back moans. You chuckle quietly at that, your hands continuing its touching of his clothed length. 

His hand reaches for you once more, and when you straddle his waist again, it slides to the back of your neck. His lips crash against yours almost desperately, as if he couldn’t get enough. 

Your hands cup his face, kissing him back with the same urgency. 

Drew groans into your lips, but not before hanging up on the phone. It drops inside the tub, the loud thud ignored by the both of you. 

His orgasm flows through him; the liquid spilling out onto his boxer briefs. 

The kiss breaks, and you both lean your foreheads together, gasping for air.

It’s silent, only the distant sound of AC running. 

Then, a breathless laugh slips from you as you process what just happened.

“Who were you calling?” You ask, genuinely curious. Your thumb rubs circles on his cheek, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips. 

There’s the same mischievous glint in his blue eyes, causing your stomach to twist slightly. “Best if you didn’t know,” he murmurs, his grip on your waist tightening as he straightens up.

You furrow your brows, ready to ask him more. 

“You wanna have lunch together?" His suddenly asks, his voice softening. 

The question catches you off guard. You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze, your mind racing. Is it... a date? Of course it is. But... is that what you really want? 

Well, four years ago you would’ve loved to go out with a dude named Drew.

But the reminder of your brother meeting with you later flashes by. 

“Can’t,” you shrug apologetically at him, as the hand on the back of your neck starts to play with your necklace. 

Having some fun of your own, you run your hands through his hair, the short strands brushing against your fingers. “Okay…dinner,” Drew suggests instead. 

His blue eyes now stare pleadingly into yours, biting on his lower lip as he silently waits for your answer. 

Okay. You’re leaving tomorrow night, it wouldn’t hurt to have a private meal with him. 

You nod, reaching up to gently pull his lip away from his teeth, a soft smile tugging at your own.

The look in his eyes softens, a hint of curiosity flickering as he leans in a little closer. His hands leave you, reaching for his phone. ”Number?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper. Just as you’re about to tell him, he adds, “not your brother’s, though.”

Your eyes furrow at his comment; what’s that supposed to mean?

But he just shakes his head, finding his own joke amusing, “no- never mind. Go ahead.”

Slowly, you tell him his number, and soon enough, you hear your own phone ringing in the background. 

“Thanks, I’ll text you,” he kisses your cheek, gently shifting you off of him, “now, I really need to go.”

You watch as he gets up, and you immediately miss his warmth. He gets out the tub first, but not before turning around to offer his hand. 

You smile at the simple yet soft gesture, and take it, letting him help you out the tub. 

“I might see you later,” you tell him, as Drew leads you along with him, to the door. 

“Really?” Drew’s hand catches the door handle, pushing it open. He turns back to face you, and with your hand still in his, he takes the opportunity to place a gentle kiss there. “I’m looking forward to that already.”

Why can’t he just skip practice? 

“Alright,” you smile, taking your hand out of his, patting down the roughed part of his suit jacket, “get out of here.”

His lips curve into a half-smile, and he gives a playful shrug as he takes a step back. "Bossy," he teases, his voice light but warm, “see you.”

The soft click of the door closing echoes in the quiet room.

 With your back against the door, you slide down to the floor, your legs pulling up as you wrap your arms around them.

Blush creeps onto your cheeks as your mind races, replaying the moments with Drew—the look in his eyes, the feel of his lips on your skin, the way he seemed so different, yet so familiar.

You close your eyes, leaning your head against the door, trying to shake off the warmth still lingering in your chest.

Why does it feel like there's more to it than just... whatever that was? You can’t quite put your finger on it, but you know one thing for sure: this wasn’t how you imagined your visit here to be like.

——

You’ve never been to a real basketball stadium before. 

At first, the staff was unexpectedly rude, shutting you down before you even had a chance to introduce yourself. Just as things seemed hopeless, the manager stepped in, recognizing your name and quickly handing you a ‘visitor’ badge.

He guides you through narrow corridors, until you make it into a more promising section of the place. The air was filled with the scent of fresh gear, and before you knew it, you passed by one of the locker rooms. You catch a brief glimpse inside - a few tall, fit, shirtless dudes who walked around, chatting away. 

Even at your grown-up age, seeing half-naked guys still made you fluster, averting your gaze. 

Following the manager, the path leads to a visible court ahead, the bright lights blinding into the small tunnel. The loud sounds of dribbling and sneakers squeaking against the hardwood floor echo, growing louder with each step. 

Stepping out the tunnel, the staff leads you to the front seats, finding one that isn’t occupied by towels or bags. 

Something about an empty stadium with only its players sends a weird feeling to your brain - the scene surreal somehow. 

“Thank you,” you smile at him, who just nods, walking away. 

Sitting down on the black leathered seat, you look out at the court, taking in the players currently practicing. 

Your instincts kick in, and you scan the floor— spotting Drew, even with his team members running around and dribbling. He's easy to find, his tall frame and confident stride standing out as he lines up for a three-pointer. 

The ball leaves his hands with a smooth flick, arcing toward the hoop, and you watch as it swishes through the net. 

Shit. It’s the way he nonchalantly grabs another ball from the rack, dribbles it once, twice, before casually sinking another three-pointer, his expression completely unbothered that gets you. Other than your heart, something else is throbbing inside of you. 

Like magnets, your eyes focus solely on Drew, even more when you realize the waistband of Calvin Klein peeking out from his shorts. And of course, the v-line that follows-

Thwack!

A ball hits you square in the face, snapping you out of your trance. The sharp impact leaves you blinking, momentarily stunned. 

Slowly, pain creeps into your right jaw, mostly centered there. 

Great. Sitting down for what, not even five minutes? 

As you raise your hand to your face, trying to steady yourself from the blow, the blurry figure of a man slowly comes into focus. He looks flustered as he stammers an apology, but you don’t respond. The pain in your jaw is all-consuming, your head still spinning from the unexpected hit.

“What the fuck, man!”

The loud yell of your brother cuts through the stadium, sharp and full of anger. You don’t even have time to react before he’s charging toward you, his face red. Without hesitation, he roughly shoves the man in front of you, sending him stumbling back a few steps. 

For fuck’s sake, your brother’s outrage might be more frustrating than being hit by a ball…. Does he always have to cause a scene? What a drama queen. 

Even with the pain radiating through your jaw, you manage to drag your hand up and pull the edge of Luke’s shorts. The movement is slow, but it’s enough to make him turn around immediately.

“Shit, y/n, you okay?” He tones his voice down, his features softening as he sits down beside you. 

The lights above you start to drown out; which was because of the crowd gathering around you. They pretend to take a break- but everyone knows it’s to catch a glimpse of a fight threatening to erupt between Luke and his teammate. 

The ache is unbearable, and yet you still manage to lock eyes with Luke. Through clenched teeth, you choke out, “you idiot.”

Luke's eyes widen, guilt flooding his features. Hesitating, his hand hovers near your shoulder, unsure of what to do. 

“Get me an ice pack, dummy,” you rasp, voice thick with frustration. 

Luke winces at your tone, and you catch the muffled laughter from his teammates. 

“Okay, okay,” he mutters, “I’ll get it.” He hurries off, without another word. 

The guy that hit you with the ball apologies once again, and you reassure that you’re okay. Your eyes drift over to the other players, who immediately pretend to be busy with something else. 

You sigh, closing your eyes, as you lean back into the chair. The noise and ruffling of bags fade away as you focus on the pain, trying to relieve it. You place your hands in your lap, relaxing yourself. 

But not even a minute in, a soothing, familiar voice brings you back. 

“Hey baby,”

You crack your eyes open, and there he is, standing in front of you, a concerned smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His blue eyes stare down at you, the gleam in them brighter than the stadium lights. 

Drew.

Your brain immediately replays the scenes of this morning— his lips against yours, his hands all over you, and the call during the…sex? 

He doesn’t wait for an answer; simply sits down beside you, his presence warm and steady. You can feel the tension in his body as he watches you carefully, fidgeting with his hands that lay on his lap. 

The uncontrollable ache in your chest isn’t from the pain, but rather nervous. Fuck. He probably saw the whole process of Luke getting mad! Now you’re embarrassed. Your face is definitely swollen, red, ugly-

“Um, I’ve been hit…multiple times too,” he carefully starts, and you avert your gaze to his face, locking eyes with him. “Ice packs don’t, really work.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, your lips in a small frown as you wonder where he’s going with this.

His eyes flicker to his teammates, who are clearly stealing glances at the two of you. The quiet murmurs around you seem to make him shift slightly, though, and suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the space between you two. His body scoots closer, letting his knee rests against yours.

The contact is casual, but it sends an unexpected jolt of warmth through you. You catch yourself glancing down at where your legs meet.

His voice lowers just a touch, teasing, “kissing…much better.”

You blink, caught off-guard by his words. The smirk on his lips only deepens, his gaze locked on yours. “Official recommendation?” You manage to say, reflecting the teasing tone back at him. 

He shrugs, sending you an air-kiss, his lips pursed in a playful manner. “Worked in the past.”

“And how many…have you offered?” You jokingly ask, a small smile now present on your lips, as your body relaxes itself in his presence. 

Now it’s Drew’s turn, taken aback by your reply. You giggle at that, as he licks his lips, nodding slowly. He rests an arm over the back of your seat, fingers brushing your back and burning the skin there. 

“You caught me,” Drew says, readjusting his hips to angle his body inches closer (even more close; if that’s even possible) to you. “…just wanted to kiss you…again.”

The words are barely above a whisper, but you hear it. 

You swallow, trying to keep the flutter in your chest under control, but the soft touches he starts giving on your back makes it hard. His fingers rub circles on the bare skin that your top doesn’t cover; making your heart skip a beat. 

It feels like you’re back in high school again, a silly crush. 

Or rather, the specific crush you had on the Drew from WCU. 

Drew’s gaze flicks down to your lips for a moment, a slight shift in his expression that’s almost too subtle to notice — but you catch it. His eyes meet yours again, and you can sense a change, something a little deeper in his look now, less playful and more... intent.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice now softer, changing the topic. The teasing from before has faded, replaced by something a little more earnest. “Feeling better, at least?”

“Yes,” you reply with a smile. The pain was long forgotten since he sat down. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head lightly, before muttering, “as long as you’re okay,” the sincerity in his voice palpable. You feel a strange warmth spreading in your chest, the kind that makes you forget all the chaos around you. 

“Um, do you like the place I sent?” Drew changes the topic, and you quickly understand what he’s referencing—he texted you with an address earlier, just before practice. A restaurant that looks like it belongs in a hidden corner of an old European city. 

You get ready to say yes, that it’s great, but of course, your eyes drift over his shoulder, and you see the faint image of Luke running over. 

The moment- over, just like that. 

You quickly look away from Drew, and sensing the change, he sits up, adjusting his position away from you. His hand back in his lap, his knee no longer resting against yours; he creates an invisible border between you two. 

It stings for a moment; but your brother reaching you distracts it. 

“Here,” Luke hands you the ice pack, breathing heavily. You take it, placing it against your jaw as Luke’s eyes flicker over to Drew beside you, acting nonchalant.  “Starkey.”

Drew looks up at the call of his last name, a tight smile on his lips, “yeah?”

“In my seat,” Luke replies, his voice casual but the tone carrying an underlying edge, even though the other seat beside you was empty. 

To which, Drew glances over your shoulder, at the said seat. But Luke doesn’t follow his gaze. Instead, his eyes stay locked on Drew, and you can almost feel the tension between them, thick and unspoken. Drew's posture shifts slightly, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s going to protest.

But he doesn’t.

With a small shrug, Drew stands up, walking past Luke to the court. He doesn’t turn around for another glance; and joins another teammate to practice. 

Luke drops to the chair that was previously occupied, and his body relaxes, his features softening. “You alright?” He asks again. 

“Took you long enough,” you complain instead, turning your body towards the court. Unknowingly you had your body shifted over to Drew when he was still sitting here. 

Luke doesn’t react; his glare enough to melt the ice pack. “I could get him benched, y’know?” 

You glance at him, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. "What?" You ask, raising an eyebrow, your heart sinking slightly. “Drew? He was just checking up on me-“

“Smith, the one that hit you.”

Oh. 

Well, unless it was Drew, you truly cared less. 

“No, Luke, it was an accident,” you shrug, trying to sound sincere. Your eyes follow Drew on the court, as he successfully jumps and bats the ball out of the other player’s hands. 

“Yeah…no,” Luke mutters, clear that he’s definitely telling the coach. His eyes follow your gaze, and he pokes your shoulder roughly to get your attention. Tearing your eyes away from Drew, you send him a glare. “What did, uh, Drew talk to you about?”

“Oh, um,” you stutter slightly, but ultimately shrug, playing it casually, “he asked if I was fine. That’s all.”

Luke looks at you, clearly not persuaded. 

“Nothing big,” you add on, sending him a smile. 

The ice pack starts to melt in your hands, and noticing it, Luke reaches over to a bag (probably his) and takes a towel out. He hands it to you, but you just narrow your eyes at it, unsure. 

“Relax; it’s unused,” Luke says, and reluctantly you take it. You wrap it around the ice pack, putting it on your jaw again. “I don’t think so- Starkey’s full of shit.”

“More than you?” You tease, earning another poke on your shoulder from him. 

A part of you wanted to know what your brother meant; another part of you didn’t. Even if he was an asshole, you didn’t want to know. At least, not now, when it’s your vacation, and this lovely dream is washing over you. 

“I’m hungry,” you cut whatever Luke wants to say, standing up. “Is the, I don’t know, food court open?” 

Luke watches you stand, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watches you, clearly weighing whether or not he should push further. But you can tell he’s deciding against it.

“Nah, that shit’s ass,” he says, a smile tugging on his lips as he stands up. He throws an arm over you, adding extra weight to your shoulders. “I’know a place.”

The strong smell of his sweat hits you; the aftermath of practicing all morning. Your face scrunches up in disgust, as he leads you to the tunnels again, “shower first, you smell like shit.”

He laughs, unfazed, and squeezes your shoulder. 

And as the two of you walk towards the locker rooms, Drew watches, his eyes lingering just a second too long. 

——

The lack of effort your brother brings truly is, amazing. Blows your mind every. time. 

The restaurant he brings you to is the same one as last night, expect well, it’s noon, menu’s different, and oh, you’re sitting outside. 

“Anything else?” The waitress says, as she bats her eyelashes over at your brother. 

With a cocky grin on his face, he gestures the waitress to lean forward. And when she does, he whispers in her ear, causing her to nod enthusiastically. Great, now he’s even flirting with the staff. 

“Food will arrive shortly,” she shyly says, walking away. 

Once she’s gone, the discontent is evident on your face, the frown deepening as you cross your arms. “Seriously?” You almost bark at him, causing him to flinch. 

“What?” He shrugs, oblivious to your frustration. 

“It’s the same place as last night,” you tell him, gesturing around. 

“…that’s why we’re here,” Luke says, with that stupid grin on his face, “Hawk players eat here free.”

Your eyebrows furrow deeper at his words, your gaze shifting to the stunning garden view. Now that you’re really looking at it, the place is beautiful—a secret little oasis that could’ve come straight out of a fairytale.

It’s Luke’s rough kick under the table that snaps you back to reality, your attention shifting to him as he gives you a…rather serious look. 

“So who were you fucking last night?”

“Luke!” You whisper-yell at him, glancing around. Okay, not a lot of people sitting outside. “You can’t just ask that-“

“C’mon, I’m not a fucking idiot,” he interrupts, leaning back in his chair. It’s clear he didn’t buy whatever you said this morning, his eyes scanning you with the annoying know-it-all look. “You forgot how well I know you, y/n.”

With a roll of your eyes, you press your lips together. No way were you telling him. 

Luke scratches his eyebrow, a frown taking over his face. He falls quiet, clearly lost in thought, before his eyes light up with some idea. “How about this…a secret for a secret?”

How ridiculous. This isn’t some middle school game.

“Luke, forget it, I’m not telling you who it was.”

“Ha! So you were with someone,” he exclaims, gently tapping the table. 

Your shoulders drop in exasperation, and you give him a seriously? look. 

Maybe because it’s the first time (other than Zack) that your brother has actually caught you with someone. The thought makes you cringe, the idea of him knowing about that part of your personal life. It’s always been a no-go zone, same for him. 

You open your mouth to tell him off, but he starts his own conversation. 

“I fucking hate Drew Starkey.”

The sudden mention of his name catches you off guard, and you freeze, the words hanging in the air. The change in your brother’s demeanor is immediate—his usual cocky attitude replaced with something colder, sharper. It’s unsettling.

However, can’t help but think, Okay…so he is sharing a secret. 

“What?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper, unsure whether you actually want to know more. You’d already cut him off earlier, back at the court.

“I tried…I tried liking him, and shit, it’s impossible,” Luke laughs, running a hand through his hair. “I guess I’m still petty after all these years, but-“

His eyes meet yours, and seeing how confused you are, his tensed features relax slightly. He looks at you like you're missing something obvious, like he’s just about to reveal a truth you've been blind to.

“Do you not fucking recognize him?”

You swallow hard, feeling your stomach tighten. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen your brother truly hate someone, different from his usual short-tempered self. 

“Fuck- he’s the guy I lost the championship to? WCU? Setting my career back-“

His words fade into the background, replaced by a loud sting in your mind. 

You blink, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on you as you slowly sink back into your seat. The cool surface of the chair feels oddly grounding against the storm of thoughts swirling in your head.

Drew—that Drew, the one who had been your brother's rival, the one he'd spent years trying to beat—the one you lost your virginity to. 

The one…you slept with last night. Fuck- that’s why he looks so familiar! The face, his attitude, his jokes- shit. 

The memories come rushing in, vivid and jagged, each one like a slap in the face. 

You can almost hear the loud music from that frat party, the sound of Drew's voice as he took away your first time - when he rejected you. 

“I really like you,” he suddenly admits. 

“But you don’t want me,” you say, finding his sudden confession really stupid, not at all flattering to hear. 

“Don’t say that.”

“But that’s what you said.”

“Do you like me too?”

You blink again, trying to steady your breath, but the air feels thick. 

Your chest tightens, the pressure of everything unsaid between you and Drew settling heavily on your shoulders.

You’ve always thought you were over it—over Drew, over that night, over everything. But the realization hits you now, sharp and unexpected: you weren’t.

You force yourself to focus on Luke’s voice again, but it’s like you’re hearing it underwater. Everything feels muffled, distorted. 

“I mean, every time I see that fucking face, I just wanna-“

Shit. Tonight. Your date with Drew. 

“-Worse, coach thinks we’re ‘prefect’ together, so I always have to look out for him-“

You no longer have the courage to meet him, the confidence you’ve gathered all destroyed, shattered by your own thoughts. It’s as if every word Luke says is a reminder of how messy everything with Drew really is.

“Fuck- I deserved that win more than anything,” he mumbles on, pettiness written all over his face. 

Luke’s words echo in your mind, but you don’t respond. 

Your thoughts are loud enough to drown out everything else.

——

Drew sits on the edge of the fountain, just outside the restaurant. The stone surface feels cool beneath him as he stares at the water, the soft ripples catching the dim light.

It’s been nearly thirty minutes, and ever so often, his eyes flicker upward, searching for any sign of you. He’s trying to steady his nerves, but the longer he waits, the more the uncertainty gnaws at him.

Did you stand him up?

He checks his phone screen again- hundreds of texts but none from you. 

A bitter smile tugs at his lips as he stares down at his lap, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. He’s just here, waiting, when the answer is so painfully obvious.

“Not a big deal,” Drew mutters to himself, trying to convince his racing thoughts otherwise. He repeats the words again, more firm this time, “not, a big deal.”

He sighs, his eyes darting around as he avoids the curious stares of passersby. The minutes drag on, each one heavier than the last. He waits. waits. and waits.

But you never show up.

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

word count: 6.5k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: FINALLY. i sat down, stared at my laptop, and the words just exploded out of me. sorry i took so long T_T be a bae and ignore any typos xo

do you guys like smaller or bigger fonts? just found out how it change it, and must say, damnnnn. the difference it makes is crazy.

[hotchnerwrites]

Hiii🤍

Can you write something where Hotchner is obsessed with the reader but in a good way, like he can't keep his hands off of her???🥹maybe if you feel comfortable you can put a situation where he feels a little jealous,I love it so much when men are possessive in a gentle way with their partner!!!

Take this only if you feel comfortable, I send you my love!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: SFW, touchy obsessed Hotch, jealous Hotch, quiet intimate moments, domestic fluff ehehehe, no use of (y/n), reader is referred to as girlfriend/wife a couple times, established!relationship

A/N: My dear Anon, I am so sorry for the wait. I hope that this will be worth it. Some crazy stuff was happening in my family and I had to fly out of town last minute. I started this in my Notes app, and here we are, three versions later. I loved this request so much, I always jump at the chance to write fluff (or angst!). I had such a fun time writing. Oh how I wish Hotch was real :') Anyways, I really hope you like it! Enjoy reading 🤍

PS. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and consider this my gift to you <3 Sending all of you all my love. Requests are open :) Send me stuff!

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Smart, stoic Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. One of the BAU’s best profilers. One of the best prosecutors Washington D.C. has ever seen. Permanent frown on his face and an impenetrable emotional wall, he was not known to wear his heart on his sleeve. It was a persona he had spent several years cultivating. But they didn’t know him like you did. They didn’t know how he was around you, how he looked at you. It wasn’t just that— it was the way he moved around you, the quiet insistence that you were always close, always near.

You first realised how present Hotch was at the FBI’s annual Christmas gala. It was so subtle in the beginning, the way Aaron threaded through the room with you, a steady hand on your back, palm warm against your skin. It was the kind of touch that was imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t paying attention. But you felt it the entire night, four and a half hours in total. He didn’t let go of you once.

Despite this being the first formal event that you attended with Aaron, you never once felt anxious navigating the sea of handshakes and pleasantries. You met at least twenty new faces in under thirty minutes, forgetting names as fast as you learned them. Aaron’s hand was on your waist the entire time, steady and protective, guiding you through conversations, fending off curious coworkers with a soft, almost unnoticeable shift of his body between you and them. It was effortless- he even managed to hold both your drinks in one hand when you passed him something. 

By the end of the night, you realised something. You weren’t just his girlfriend; you were his partner, a quiet and unspoken claim that he did not need to announce.

The second thing that you noticed was the neck massages. It didn’t matter if Hotch had just come home from a week-long case or if it was a lazy Sunday. The moment he found you with your back to him - whether at the kitchen island, curled up with a book in an armchair, or even napping on the couch— he would materialise silently, his large hands moving to the nape of your neck.

It was a gentle pressure, expert fingers kneading the tension in your muscles. This was intimate in a wholesome way. He knew your body better than anyone, maybe even yourself. His palms were calloused and rough, but when they were touching you, it felt like the finest silk on earth. 

When his hands drew delicate circles, your world would fade away in contentment. Sometimes, Aaron would press his lips lightly against your temple. These quiet moments are as precious to you as special nights out. 

The third time was the ‘Lunch Incident’. You laugh about it now, but it’s not lost on you how lucky you are to see this side of Hotch. It was supposed to be a simple lunch drop-off at the office. As you greeted Emily and Derek, Aaron strode over towards you, legs moving so fast you’re sure his brain hadn’t even fully processed his actions. His smile when he saw you wasn’t just a casual ‘hello’ but something deeper, something more felt. And when he pressed a soft kiss against your lips, with that signature intensity, you noticed Agent Anderson nearly dropping his coffee in pure shock. The poor man, having just witnessed Hotch, the ever-professional Hotch, kiss his partner like he had no other care in the world, had gone pale. You couldn’t stop the grin stretching across your face. Hotch didn’t stop looking at you the entire time. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe you were real and that you were his. 

The fourth time, you just knew. It was a ritual, the movie nights. When you settled on the couch, ready for your favourite period film, you already knew how it would go. Ever so meticulous, Aaron would drape your favourite blanket over the two of you. But there was just something about the way he did it. He pulled you to his side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders like he needed you there more than he needed to breathe. And you’d fit yourself under his arm, cosy and safe, while the movie played. But truthfully, it was never the movie that held his attention. It was you. The way you reacted to every scene. The tiny furrow between your brows when something sad happened or the way your eyes sparkled during particularly romantic scenes. Aaron would never say this out loud, but he couldn’t care less about the films you watched. He cared about you. Watching you breathe, tracing circles on your shoulders, memorising the feel of your skin under his touch. He was always watching you, though you never caught him. 

And Hotch never made a big deal about it, but you knew those small touches meant the world to him. He was the profiler, but you noticed his antics too. When you handed him something, his fingers would always brush yours, slow and deliberate. You felt that electric spark dance across your skin each time, like he was quietly staking his claim. You always pretended not to notice, but in truth, you were just as addicted to those touches as he was. The way his hand lingered for a second too long, soft warm spreading from his touch. The kind of touch that made you feel like you were the only two people in the room. 

Honestly, it was getting ridiculous. He set his alarm early every day, just to spend an extra couple of minutes cuddling you. The moment that familiar tune rang out, he’d shift his broad frame, tangle his limbs with yours and pull you closer. Aaron never wanted this to end. So much so that he called in sick a few times, citing your refusal to free him from your clutches as the reason. But you both knew it was because he wanted to feel your hands card through his hair longer as he dozed on your chest. Neither of you said much during times like this. Still groggy from sleep, you both would just bask in each other’s quiet comfort. 

One day, when you were cleaning up his desk, you found it. The secret file. Tucked away in the back of one drawer lay a brown file with your name on it. You really hadn’t meant to snoop, but curiosity overrode manners at that moment. It wasn’t until you opened it that you realised what it exactly was. It was every story you had told Aaron about yourself, and every detail he noticed about you. Likes. Dislikes. Pet peeves. Your dreams. Your favourite songs. The small things—things no one else would have thought to note down, things only someone who really knew you would remember. He’d colour-coded it, as if it was a map of your soul.

You hadn’t meant to look through it, but when you did, a lump formed in your throat. It wasn’t a secret—just his way of keeping you close. And you realised, with a sniffle, that you’d never felt more cherished in your entire life.

When winter would roll around, you realised that despite spending years with this man, you could never quite predict when it would happen. But every time it did, you pretended to protest. Hotch would press his palms under your shirt, claiming that his fingers were frozen. This was always an assault on your senses. “I’m freezing!” you’d yell, but you knew what he was doing. He wasn’t trying to warm his hands. He wanted to feel your skin against his. You never pointed out the fact that his palms were always warm within seconds, that his body was a natural space heater. No, instead, you let him pull you in even closer, shivering as his hands traced light lines up your spine. You didn’t mind it at all.

Bonus

There was only one time that Aaron used his Unit Chief voice around you. It was something he had always been careful to avoid; he hated bringing any aspect of work home with him. But it was warranted that time, he justified. 

He had just stepped away for one second from your side at the local café. The barista had just called out your names, and he had gone to pick up your drinks (black coffee for him, surprise, surprise, and a ridiculously sweet frappé for you). In those few moments that he was gone and you’d been standing alone, staring wistfully at the pastries on display, a man had sidled up to you. He had a patchy ginger beard, and with a reedy voice, he had asked you if he could buy you coffee. In hindsight, the man had been perfectly polite, but Aaron’s blood had boiled. You had a gobsmacked expression on your face as you struggled to respond, and the man had stepped even closer. Aaron quickly snatched up your order and made his way to you. 

“Here’s your drink, honey,” Aaron said, voice low but tone soft. You gratefully accept the distraction as the man swings his head towards Aaron incredulously.

“Excuse me,” he began shrilly, “do you mind?”

Aaron fixed him with a Look. “That’s my wife you’re talking to. Can I help you in any way?” He said coolly. 

The man baulked, muttered a quick apology and scrambled off. 

As you and Aaron leave the café hand-in-hand, you can’t help the smile forming on your face. You tuck your face into Aaron’s bicep to hide your blush. 

Wife. Not girlfriend. Wife.

The sun suddenly shone brighter that day.

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs, comments and follows are appreciated! Constructive criticism is welcome :) Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

[froggiewrites]

Sickly Sweet

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

SFW

Summary: You've got a horrible cold, and Sanji is determined to take care of you. He may be going a bit overboard. Warnings: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Illness Word Count: 1.1k Notes: I'm sick as a dog right now, so I wrote a little something to comfort myself. Not proofread or edited, just words on the page. Hope everyone's having a good Christmas Eve (or Christmas, if it's already day of for you), and I hope none of you are sick like I am!

The doting had been so nice at the start. Your head was pounding, you could barely breathe through your nose, and your throat was so sore you felt like you had swallowed glass. So when your dear sweet Sanji had insisted on taking care of you, you had absolutely no problem with it.

Until now.

“Darling, angel, light of my life, please, just one more sip.” He was holding the cup of soup directly in front of your face, begging you to open your mouth. This was sweet the first time, but now you were halfway through your fourth cup of broth and you felt like you were going to explode.

You manage to mumble through pursed lips, “Sanji, I’m full.”

“Just one more, love, please.”

“Sanji, if I drink any more, I’ll throw up.”

“You won’t throw up, dear.”

“I definitely will. I’m about 80% soup right now. Maybe even 90.”

A slight wrinkle settles on his brow as he pouts. “Darling, you need fluids. It’ll help you recover.”

“I understand that. But there’s only so much room in my body, and we’re full up right now.” Your voice is getting croakier with every word you speak, and you can see Sanji’s eyes filling with even more concern. “Sweetheart, I’ll have more later, I promise. Please just…let me digest for a little bit.”

For a moment you simply stare into each other’s eyes, and you try to emphasize your pout and watery eyes. He folds like a house of cards. “Alright, dear.”

His hands are gentle as he cradles your face, his eyes adoring. You let your eyes close, basking in the love he has for you, before you feel him pull you closer.

You just barely get your hands between your lips, his brushing lightly against your palm.

“Mmm?” He mumbles against your hand in confusion.

“You can’t kiss me! You’ll get sick!”

You’ve never seen him look more devastated in your life. You honestly think he’d be less hurt if you shot him. “I can’t–I–What? No! I can’t kiss you?”

“No! You’ll catch whatever I have!”

“And it will be worth it!”

“I don’t want to get you sick! I don’t want you to feel like this!”

“Darling, not kissing you for however many days this lasts will be far more tortuous than the cold, I assure you.” He leans in again, his expression just begging you to let him press his lips to yours. Are those tears in his eyes?

“Well I’d feel awful getting you sick. And you went twenty-one years without kissing me, I think you can last a few days.” You pull your blanket tighter around you as though to shield yourself from his desperate begging.

“Darling, I didn’t know what I was missing then. Now I can’t live without you for a moment. Please, just one kiss. I probably won’t even get sick.” He falls to his knees, his chin resting on your thigh as he gazes up at you adoringly. “Please, dear. Just one.”

It would be so easy to deny him if you didn’t also desperately want to kiss him. You imagine the comfort of his warm, his arms wrapped around you protectively, his lips against yours. You could really forget how awful you felt, just for a moment. Sanji has a way of making you forget about the rest of the world. But you have to remain strong, for his sake. “Sanji, my love, it’s for your own good.”

He presses his face into your leg, making a pathetic whimpering noise. “My love denies me at my weakest. How cruel.” Despite his words, he nuzzles into your leg when you place a hand on the back of his head. “Would you kiss me if I were sick?”

“You wouldn’t let me.”

His silence speaks volumes.

But then he changes gears.

“But if I get sick from this would you kiss me? Since you’ve already had it?”

“I would.”

He lifts his head a moment, staring at you, before diving for your forgotten cup of soup. Before you can even process what he’s doing, he chugs it, pressing his lips against where yours had rested and purposefully consuming all of the germs you probably put into the cup.

“Sanji, what the hell?”

“Now I’m already infected! I’ll either get sick or I won’t. Kissing you won’t change anything.”

You sigh. That’s not really how this works, but he’s staring at you with such boyish pride for his genius little trick, and you were always going to give in anyway. “Come here, love.”

He actually cries out, “Yay!” like an excited child, before rushing forward to crash your lips together. The kiss is sweet as always, his lips soft and his hands gently caressing your cheeks. When you pull back to breathe, he falls forward, wrapping you in his arms and pressing comically loud smooches all over your face. “I adore you,” he says, with an amount of reverence normally reserved for gods.

“I love you too,” you say with the exasperation that one can only hold for the people they love most. “I’m not taking care of you when you get sick.”

“Yes, you will.” He has the slightest hint of a smug grin on his face before he nuzzles into your neck, pressing his lips against your pulse point. You wonder if he truly understands that beat is only for him.

You can’t hide your smile as it cracks through your faux annoyance. “Yeah, I will. But I’m going to be very smug about it.”

“You can be as smug as you’d like, my dear, as long as you’re with me. You can treat me however you’d like.”

“Don’t say that. What if I wanted to be mean to you?”

“Do you?”

“No, never!” There’s real horror in your tone beneath your cracking voice.

You can feel his lips turn into a fond smile against your skin. “I know, dear. That’s why I can say that to you.”

“I could be evil. People change.”

“Not you, my love.”

“I could be evil! I contain multitudes!”

He laughs quietly, pulling you so you’re pressed against the bed under his comforting weight. “Sure, sure. You could be as evil as you wanted.”

“Right,” you murmur, before a yawn breaks through. Sanji had managed to distract you, but you truly were exhausted fighting off this bug.

“Go to sleep, my love. You need your rest.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“I’ll try. If I’m not, I won’t be long, I promise.”

“...Are you going to bring more soup? I don’t think I can handle any more.”

He doesn’t answer, kissing your forehead before slipping his eyes closed, encouraging you to do the same.

He’s definitely going to bring more soup.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

[missyonmission]

NSFW - no minors - smut with plot

Plot: You are the campus sweetheart. A high-class, rich girl who's always following the rules. Super kind and friendly to everyone. You are at the top of every class and put your focus and time on studying and family matters, just like you were raised to.

But what happens when you find yourself in one room with the campus troublemaker himself, letting yourself go for the very first time in your life and let him introduce you to a completely new world? A world full of carefree fun, lust, and love, like you never experienced before...

Warnings: bad boy! Sukuna - rich girl! Reader - drug use (Weed) - first time smoking - kinda forced intoxication? (reader is curious but persuaded into it) - shotgunning - making out - inexperienced!reader - sex under the influence - protected sex - markings (hickeys, biting) - multiple rounds - missionary - doggy - cowgirl - getting caught in the act - after care

Word count: 13.438

Might write more chapters to this. Already have a few drafts in the works...

You are skipping over to the boys dormitory after class to work on a project with Itadori, greeting a few people on your way with a polite smile and short small talk about classes, professors and extracurriculars, denying some invitations to parties and movie dates.

When you arrive at the boys' dormitory, you write down your name in the guest book and make your way upstairs. You knock on the door, expecting Itadori to open it, but to your surprise, you are greeted with the face of his roommate.

Sukuna Ryomen. You only heard stories about him, sometimes seeing him lurking around campus with his shady friends. At first, one could think that Sukuna and Itadori are related, but despite their similar features and the hair color Itadori copied, because he thought it was kind of cool, the two of them share no similarities. Sukuna Ryomen just happened to be a lot scarier than the bubbly ball of excitement that was Itadori Yuji.

“He’ll be here in about 20 minutes or so. You can stay or whatever. Doesn’t make a difference to me. If you do stay though, don’t touch anything on the fuckin’ table.” Sukuna said, rubbing his knuckles against the tattoos on his face tiredly.

You timidly walk into the dorm room. "20 minutes isn't that long, I can wait." You smile politely at him, not wanting to give into the temptation of judging a book by its covers.

The room is barely lit, and it was smelling a lot like weed and sweat. You put your stuff down on Itadori's bed before sitting down on it carefully. You look around the room, not knowing what to do now and slightly swinging your feet. Maybe you should have just come back later, you think to yourself.

Sukuna glances at you for a moment as you sit down on Itadori’s bed. Despite you being polite, there was an obvious air of anxiety surrounding you. He just can’t tell if you are anxious about him… or if it was something else. But he did care to find out.

Sukuna’s eyes flicked down to your legs for just a brief moment before he let out a low, tired sigh and took a drag from the joint he held. “You’re one of the teacher’s pet types, ain’t ya?”

Your head whippes around to look at him, your eyes traveling up and down his body for a second before settling on his face. "We aren't allowed to smoke in the dorms. And I'm sure we aren't allowed to smoke THAT at all." You are referring to the weed he is currently consuming, coughing out a little when the smell hits your nose.

He smirks at the way you look at his body, finding it rather humorous. He thought your comment on smoking was cute, a little on the naive side, though. But hey, he preferred it if you were a little oblivious… it would make things more interesting.

“Yeah, well, we aren’t allowed to do a lot of things here, and yet… we still do them.” He takes another drag, letting the smoke waft through the room before exhaling in your direction. A smirk forming on his lips at the way you cough again.

You only scowl in confusion, trying to think about what kind of things he is referring to. Alcohol, drugs, staying out past curfew? Sex? The thought of him doing sexual stuff in this room makes you blush, your eyes darting from him to his bed for a split second. "No, we don't. Not all of us take joy in breaking rules, you know?”

He sees the way you look towards his bed for a brief, fleeting moment. And he chuckles darkly, taking another drag from his joint and slowly exhales before speaking. "Is that right, princess? I find that hard to believe. Breaking the rules is fun… you’re just too much of a goodie-two shoes to take advantage of it."

He looks you up and down again, taking in your features more closely. You are pretty… and shy, too. A delicious combo, he thought to himself.

You let out a scoff at his words. "And what do you want me to do, huh? Be more like you? Go out past curfew to some shitty bars and get drunk on a weekday? Smoke cigarettes and weed the whole day instead of going to classes? Have Sex in a rather… untidy dorm room and get myself an STD instead of studying?"

It is unusual for you to get so worked up over this. Normally, you are able to hold in your emotions better, but you had a stressful week, and he hit a nerve. Yes, you are a ‘goodie-two shoes’ but you didn't really have a choice on that matter. You had family expectations to uphold and are under a lot of pressure. As much as you wanted to, you can't just do whatever you want. It's careless and reckless, and nothing good would come out of it.

Sukuna is surprised by your little fit, but it is rather fun to watch. He lets out another chuckle as you list off everything you don’t do, listening intently and closely to what you say.

“Yeah… basically.” He says bluntly, taking another drag from his joint. “Life’s short, princess. Live it while you can. You’ll never get to experience this time again, y’know?” He smirks at you, taking a few steps forward to close in on the gap between you both.

He is standing right in front of you, towering over you while you sit on Itadori’s bed. His crotch leveling with your face, making your eyes dart down for a moment. Of course, he notices the way your eyes dart down, and he chuckles to himself, a look of wickedness growing on his face.

You look up at him with narrowed eyes, anger, and frustration clearly swirling behind your orbs. "Could you at least not be smoking weed while I am here? When Itadori comes back, we have a project to work on." You grit out through your teeth.

He took another drag from the joint before holding the smoke inside his mouth and taking another small step forward, closing the gap between you both even more now. “Aww… don’t be such a buzzkill, princess. What’s a little weed gonna do? I smoke it all the time, and I’m still fine.” He leaned down a little so he could be closer to your face.

Again, he is blowing his stupid smoke into your face, and you swear, you could already feel your head getting lighter. Was it the anger, or is it possible to get high this quick from just a few secondhand hits?

"Stop doing that!" You are clenching your jaw in frustration. "And clearly, you're not fine. Your brain definitely took damage already, seeing how you act like a defiant child. You are an arrogant ass AND you are trouble, Sukuna. Stop getting me involved with your stupid games. Get another girl for it." You huff out in annoyance after your little rant.

Sukuna chuckles at your comment, enjoying the way you are so easily annoyed and enraged. It was funny seeing you get so worked up over such trivial things, and the way your cute, angry face scrunches up when you are frustrated is like a cherry on top.

He continues to hold another blow of smoke in his mouth while you rant, not letting himself exhale quite yet. And when you finally stop, he slowly begins to speak again. The smoke leaves through his lips and wafts in the air between you. “Aww… and here I was thinking you were playing hard to get, princess.”

You are swatting the smoke away with your hand, biting back another sassy comment. "Just smoke your stuff on your side of the room." You say while pushing him away by his legs.

You crawl up on Itadori's bed and over to the window, opening it. Unknowingly, giving Sukuna a good view of your ass under the short skirt in the process. You try to breathe in some fresh air, your head buzzing like crazy.

Sukuna allows you to push him away, rolling his eyes and taking a step back, but a smirk grows on his face when you crawl over the bed. He doesn’t move from his spot, enjoying the view and watching you intently, taking in the sight of your ass.

He chuckles to himself and takes a couple more drags from the joint before tossing it into an ashtray. He smirks as he speaks. “Careful… don’t want anyone looking up and seeing you, princess. Imagine the talk around campus when you get caught with the troublesome bad boy.”

You just roll your eyes at him, and silence is falling over you two while you wait for Itadori to come back. But he never did. Not after 20 minutes and not after 30 minutes. In the meantime, Sukuna sits on his bed with an amused smile on his face.

He’s watching you, how you sit by the window, and look outside for Itadori every few minutes. He knows damn well that Itadori isn’t coming over. He had sent him a message as soon as he saw your cute little ass, to not come back until way later.

He smirks to himself and sits still for a few good minutes, just watching you as you begin to grow frustrated and worried. “Think he ain’t coming, princess.”

"Stop saying that!" You hiss, looking outside for Itadori again. "Maybe he forgot? Wouldn't be a first..." You mumble quietly to yourself before returning your gaze to Sukuna.

"Are you just going to lounge around your room for the rest of the day? It's Friday. Don't you have anything better to do?” You raise your eyebrows at him, clearly annoyed by his presence. It's his room, and you could just leave, but this project with Itadori was important, and you have to get this done today or otherwise it wouldn't fit into your schedule. Sukuna is usually out partying every fucking day but not today… something about it seems suspicious to you.

He smirks, watching as you grow more and more frustrated as time passes. It is so cute seeing you this way, completely ignorant of the fact that he is the reason Itadori isn’t here. This whole situation is his doing… and he is enjoying every minute of it.

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Laze around and probably get high. And, I don’t know… have a little fun.” He chuckles again, his smirk widening as he looks over your body, his mind obviously thinking something perverted.

You lean out of the window again before closing it. Sitting on your knees on Itadori's bed, you fumble with the hem of your skirt and think about what you should do now.

You scoff at Sukuna's comment. "Of course you would. Is weed the only thing you love in life? If you weren’t so damn irritating, I would honestly feel sad for you.”

Sukuna chuckles again, a little more darkly this time. He took in your pose, sitting on your knees on the bed like a good girl, your skirt riding up just slightly as you fiddle around with it… it is quite a sight to behold, one that he wouldn’t mind getting used to.

He sits up on his bed, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms behind his head as he watches you on the bed at the other side of the room, a smirk still on his face. “You say it like it’s a bad thing, princess. Weed is fun. You’d know that if you weren’t so… straight-edged.”

His words aren't really registering. Your mind is still focused on how you would be able to finish this project today if Itadori doesn't show up. "Well, I guess I would have to try it to know..." You say absentmindedly.

That catches his attention. His head perks up when you say that, raising an eyebrow in curiosity as he smirks a little. “Oh, yeah? You have to try it, huh? Well… I got plenty of stuff here I could let you try.” He sat up properly on the bed, looking at you intently as he spoke, waiting to gauge your reaction.

You shake your head out of your own thoughts and look at him in disbelief, your face scrunching in confusion. "What? What are you talking about? I would never take this stuff. It messes with your head." You give him another eye roll. "And even if I would ever try smoking, you would be the last person I wanna hit my first blunt with, Sukuna.”

He chuckles, enjoying the way you react to his suggestion. He watches the confusion and disbelief slowly morph onto your cute face, another smirk growing on his own as he speaks again. “Messes with your head?”

He laughs at that, amused by the fact that you didn’t know the first thing to do with marijuana. “Oh come on, princess… it’s not that bad. And I could take real good care of you… you’d never know the first thing about gettin’ high… Let me teach ya.”

"Take care of me, huh?" You raise an eyebrow at the innuendo behind his offer. Your eyes are darting from him to the ashtray, lingering on the remains of the joint he was smoking earlier. You look back at him, a scowl on your face. "You can't even take care of yourself, Sukuna.”

He shrugs his shoulders at your comment. He couldn’t argue with that. You had a point there. He probably couldn’t take good care of himself even if he tried. But you… he’d take real good care of you… At least he liked to think he would.

“Eh, maybe I can’t. But I think I’m good at taking care of… other people. I’m real good with my hands, y’know.” He smirks again, his gaze lingering over your body.

"I would sure hope so, seeing all you do with your fingers is rolling blunts the whole day." You let out an exaggerated sigh. "Stupid Itadori…" You mutter to yourself.

He chuckles at your comment, knowing damn well that you are right. He did spend most of his time rolling things with his fingers.

Then you suddenly stand up and make your way over to his bed, sitting down on it with a huff. Getting more comfortable next to him with your skirt riding up in the process. "So~, how does this work, huh?”

He has to admit, you are looking real cute, the way you hop up from the bed and sit down on his, your skirt riding up, so that a bit more of your thighs are showing. He’s getting more excited and enticed as you sit down beside him, your body so close to his. “Alright, princess, lemme teach ya a thing or two about smokin’. First off, you gotta come closer. You’re too far away for me to teach you properly.”

He just puts his arms around your waist and manhandles you to sit between his legs, your back flush against his chest. "I don't think this is a proper position..." You state quietly but don't make any attempt to actually stop him.

He chuckles as he grabs you and moves you to his liking, his laugh turning to a smirk as he leans forward a little and puts his chin on your shoulder, his lips right next to your ear as he whispers to you.

“Nah… I think it’s the perfect position for… teaching. It’s so I can show you everything real easily, princess.” He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you even closer to him, basically trapping you in his hold now.

You look over your shoulder at him. Your faces are so close that you can feel his breath against your lips. "And- and what do I do now?" Your voice is barely above a husky whisper, a little bit of curiosity mixed with anxiety and insecurity lying beneath.

He smirks as his face gets closer to your own, staring deeply into your eyes. You look so innocent, so… naive. You have no idea what you are about to get yourself into. “For now? Just relax. It’ll be a small hit at first. Nothin’ too bad, okay, princess?”

He lets go of your waist with one hand, reaching over to the table beside the bed. He grabs a new joint and a lighter, quickly flicking it on and lighting up the end of the blunt.

He takes a hit and lets the smoke hang in the air between you, your nose crinkles when you take in the smell. You reach out to take the joint out of his fingertips, concentrating on not letting it fall down with how nervous you are. Your eyes flicker to his for reassurance before lifting the joint to your lips.

He chuckles as he watches you try to take your first hit. You look nervous and anxious, your hand trembling a little as you take the joint delicately from his hands. He smirks as he gets a good glimpse at you, you're so cute it's almost unfair to do what he had planned.

When you inhale for the first time, you immediately start a coughing fit and look at him over your shoulder with a pout.

He laughs out loud when you start to cough up a storm and takes the joint out of your hands for another hit. “Oh princess… I know you’re not experienced with this but goddamn, you coughed like crazy. C’mon… try again.”

You are still coughing a little bit, letting out a huff of air and denying the joint he holds up for you to take again.. You try to stand up from your position between his legs, shuffling forward and away from him, your hands on his thighs to stabilize yourself as you scoot forward. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea, maybe I should just-"

He chuckles when you start to stand up from your spot, and the feeling of your hands on his thighs made him grow even more excited for what the night could hold. He quickly reaches out and grabs your hips, pulling you back down so that you were sitting between his legs again.

“Nah… I think you should give it another shot, princess. It ain’t gonna get better if you don’t try more than once.” He wraps his arms around your waist again, holding you in place.

You let out a small whine, clearly embarrassed that it didn't work out well the first time. "Sukuna, please~" You look back into his eyes, your pout only intensifying. "Maybe some people are just not born to do this and maybe I am one of those people..."

Your hands instinctively hold onto his forearm, which is securely placed around your waist, for comfort. You don't even notice you are pressing your back into his chest a little more.

He smirks as you whine and look at him, pouting. You look so good, in every sense of the word, it's almost too much to handle. Seeing how embarrassed you are about trying and failing at something was just… adorable. He loves the way you are so helpless… it gives him too much power over you.

When you begin to nuzzle into his chest, he chuckles at how innocent and adorable you are. He holds you just a bit tighter, your little body now trapped against his own. “Nonsense, princess… you’re not a quitter, are you? C’mon… just give it one more try.”

You try two more times, slowly getting better at it, but your lungs are still not used to the smoke. By the third try, you're coughing just a tiny little bit after your hit. Your mind is a little bit fuzzy and dead set on making this work eventually.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" You look at him with a bright smile full of excitement, clearly wanting him to praise you for getting better.

He chuckles again, enjoying the way you are so determined to keep going. You are doing better each time, and after some time, you are almost able to hold it in without coughing.

He takes the joint out of your hand and takes a hit of it himself before leaning down and blowing the smoke to your lips, watching your reaction as your mind slowly begins to get a little more hazy. “See? You’re a natural, princess… you’re gonna be smokin’ like a pro in no time.”

You had a pleased smile on your face, your eyes crinkling a little, and a blush involuntarily creeps up your cheeks. You already feel more relaxed and lean yourself back against Sukuna. It feels good to just lay in his arms, somehow safe and secure.

"But still not perfect." You huff out. You are a perfectionist and would not give up until you have this down perfectly. "Let me try another!" You exclaim enthusiastically, turning around a little over your shoulder to look at him. His crimson red eyes are beautiful. You never noticed how much they stand out to his usual appearance and get lost in them for a moment before your gaze flickers down to his lips briefly.

He smiles, watching as you begin to relax. He loves the feeling of your body against his own, the way you were so comfortable and trusting with him. He could get used to this very easily.

He raises an eyebrow when you ask to try again, a smirk growing on his face when you turn around and look at him. He watches your eyes flicker down to his lips and back up, and he couldn’t help but bite back a chuckle. It seems like the weed was affecting you…

"How about we try something to help you hold it in, huh?”

"Yes, I wanna!" He couldn't even finish his explanation on what you're going to do when you interrupt him eagerly.

He is shuffling you around like you weighed nothing at all until you are sitting next to him, pressed into his side and your legs now thrown over his lap, your arms automatically go to wrap around his bizeps. You are looking at his every move intensely and waiting for him to tell you what to do next. Letting your eyes roam his figure in the process.

His smirk grows into a smile when your excitement gets the better of you. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself when you instantly jumped into the position he wanted. You looked so cute and eager, like a puppy ready for a treat. He looked at you intently before speaking, his voice low and deep as he spoke to you. “Now, all you gotta do is open your mouth, and I’ll help you take that hit nice and smoothly…”

You nod your head ‘yes’ frantically, ready for whatever comes next. Or at least you thought so...

He watches as you nod your head, the look of excitement on your face filling him with a sense of pride. You look so willing to do whatever he told you to do, and he loves that about you. He loves how you listen to him like a good girl, how you want to please him. It is so cute and adorable, and it only serves to rile him up more.

His free hand comes up and holds your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up to make you look at him. His thumb runs over your bottom lip, and you comply immediately, parting your lips for him.

Sukuna takes a hit from the joint, leaning in closer and connects your lips in a slow kiss, shotgunning the smoke into your mouth and making you take it. He immediately slips his tongue between your lips, blowing the smoke towards your mouth and making sure to keep the kiss going. No coughing, no interrupting the kiss. Instead, your hand finds the back of his head, returning the kiss more eagerly.

He couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, feeling you return it with just as much enthusiasm, your hand going to the back of his head to pull him closer. He loves how eager you are. It really was too cute.

The kiss keeps going, the smoke slowly going up between you two when you exhale into his mouth. You shuffle into a new position, straddling his lap and sitting on top of him, your lips never parting.

He could feel himself getting more and more worked up the longer the kiss went on, his hands going to your hips and gripping them as you straddle his lap, sitting on top of him now. He couldn’t believe how eager you are, even making the next step on your own accord. You look so cute and adorable, all hazy and happy.

When he finally breaks the kiss and leans his forehead against yours, you are breathing heavily. Your eyes glazed over with the effects of the drug and a lazy smile spreading across your face. "Didn't cough once. I like this method." You whisper against his lips.

He chuckles and smiles against your lips when you tell him you didn’t cough once, looking into your eyes and seeing how clouded they are. You are really beginning to feel the effects now. "No, you didn’t cough at all… you did perfectly.”

You chuckle at his praise, leaning back with one arm still around his neck and the other taking the joint from him. Bringing it to your lips, taking a deep hit, and blowing the smoke straight into his face. Your eyes holding his gaze the whole time. "So… What's the next step?”

He just watches as you lean back, taking the joint from him and lifting it to your lips, taking another hit, and then blowing the smoke directly into his face. It caught him a little off guard, not gonna lie, and he couldn’t deny that it… really turned him on. Especially with the way you looked at him with that cute, hazy expression on your face.

He smirks at your question, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter and pulling you closer to him. "Next? Well... I think you deserve a little reward, don't you? All of this just made me want one thing, and I know you’re gonna enjoy it too.”

You smile at him, taking another hit and connecting your lips in another kiss again, blowing the smoke directly into his mouth. He returns the kiss hungrily, making you moan into the kiss.

The feeling of your lips against his once more, the smoke entering his system as you push it deep into his mouth, causes him to let out a low growl. He happily returns the kiss, his tongue immediately slipping into your mouth, taking in all the smoke you blew into his mouth as he deepens the kiss. He is craving you, wanting to feel more of you, and he wasn’t about to let this little moment go to waste.

He smirks into the kiss as he takes the joint from you, taking one final hit before putting it out in the ashtray on the nearby nightstand. In one swift movement, he flips you over onto your back, now hovering over you on the bed and staring down at you with a hungry and lustful look in his eyes. "Such a good girl, you deserve a nice, big reward, don't you?”

The one hand that isn't still holding onto the back of his neck comes up to trace along the tattoos of his jawline. Your eyes take in his appearance on top of you, the way his eyes are just a shade darker with lust, his jaw clenched because he has to hold himself back, the way his tattoos are standing out against his skin. He looks mesmerizing, and you wonder how you never noticed how handsome he really is before.

He feels the way your hand traces over the tattoos on his jaw, feeling your eyes roam over his face. He knows you could feel the way he was holding back, how much he wants you, and how badly he was trying to hold himself back from just… pouncing on you right then and there. He can see the way your eyes look at him, and it only made him even more eager to break you completely. He couldn’t help but smirk down at you. "You like what you see, princess?”

You let out a hum, confirming his statement without realizing it, and you have to actively pry your eyes from his features to look back into his eyes again. Your pupils are blown wide from the high, and your head feels cloudy. It was a strange feeling but somehow… For once… everything feels perfect.

"Sukuna?" Your voice comes out in a shaky whisper. "You will take care of me, right? Really good care, I mean? I'm not really experienced in these kinds of things, so…”

He can't help but smirk at your response, the way you don’t even realize that you are so openly admiring his appearance. You are so high already, so gone, that you aren’t even fully aware of what you are saying. He couldn’t get enough of seeing you in this state, so vulnerable and completely at his mercy. It makes him want to do all kinds of things to you… all kinds of things no one has ever done to you before.

The way you ask if he would take care of you, he loves how submissive you are right now. "Of course, princess. I’ll take good care of you, I’ll make sure you’re all nice and safe with me. I won’t be too rough, okay?”

You shake your head ‘no’, your eyebrows furrowing in dislike at the thought of him holding back for you. You don't want that. "No. Don't hold back, please. I don't want you to hold back. You- you can be rough with me. Can do to me whatever you want, Sukuna."

Your mind is clouded, and so is your judgment. You aren't a virgin anymore. You just never went past that first time in high school, and right now, you want to experience more. More with him and act like a normal reckless college girl for once. At least for tonight, you want to let yourself go, not having to think too much about life and its problems and give the power over to someone else. You already got so far. You couldn't back down now. You didn't want to back down now.

The way you shake your head ‘no’, your eyebrows furrowing in disapproval at the idea of him holding back for you, it makes him grin like the cocky bastard he is. He could tell that you are high and probably aren’t thinking straight, but he doesn’t care. He loves that you are begging him to lose control, to give in to his primal side, to take what he wants in a completely feral and rough way. You have no idea what you are getting yourself into…but he was happy to show you.

The idea of you letting him do whatever he wants with you is way too enticing, and he will definitely be taking advantage of it. He is going to make you his. "You sure, princess? You wanna be my little doll tonight?”

"Yes." It is a simple answer that doesn't need much explanation. "Just- just tell me what to do, please." Your voice a hushed whisper.

He smirks as you answer, a single yes being all he needs to know you want this. He knows that your mind is clouded and that you aren’t making the best decisions, that you are under the influence of the drugs, but he couldn’t care less. You are willingly giving yourself to him, asking him to take control, and he is going to make sure you feel it. "Take off your clothes for me, nice and slow. Okay, princess?”

He is removing himself from you, taking his place on the bed with his back against the wall. You slowly lift yourself up, standing in front of the bed and looking around the room for a second. On shaky legs, you walk to the small music box on his desk, putting on some random sultry music and turning around to him with a small smile. You take off your clothes, give him a show in the process, and dance to the music. You're giving him something you could compare to a sloppy first time strip tease, a few cute little giggles and chuckles leaving your lips as you stumble around and lose yourself in the moment, the drugs helping you to relax and take away the pressure of your life.

Sukuna smirks as you stand up from the bed and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you walk across the room, the way your legs tremble from being so high and the little smile on your face. He sits back, resting against the wall with his legs sprawled out in front of him as he watches you, seeing you completely stripping down in front of him. He loves the way you move to the music, completely lost in your own little world as you give him a private show.

He watches you move, laughing and giggling, and he is already getting more and more worked up. When you are completely naked, you walk over to him. He is offering you his hand to take, and you do without questioning while crawling back into his lap again.

When he feels your hand slide into his own, the smirk on his face is growing, and his hands immediately go to your hip, resting on your waist and holding you against him.

Once you are seated, you look into his eyes for a second before burying your head in the crook of his neck, giving him small little kisses along the skin. "Was that nice and slow enough for you? I did a good job, didn't I?" You murmur against his neck, looking for approval.

Your soft kisses along his skin are making him let out a deep breath. "Yeah, you did a good job, princess. Such an obedient little thing, you look so perfect like this, don’t you? Sitting pretty in my lap, all naked and ready for me."

If you had been in the right state of mind, you probably would have been embarrassed. Begging for approval so desperately, and it's kinda sad if you think about why you behave like this. Why you search for approval from the people around you so much and strive for perfection in everything you do. But right now, under the influence of the drug, you don't care about anything but him and his hands on your skin spreading a fire in their wake.

He could tell that you aren’t quite yourself, the good little college sunshine, finding herself all lewd and naked in the lap of someone like him. You definitely wouldn't be in this state if sober. You are so needy and submissive right now, it is nice to see how much you crave him, how much you need his validation but he doesn’t mention it, he knows you are too far gone to even register it anyways. You only care about him right now, and he loves the way his touch feels on your body. It almost makes him feel bad for taking advantage of your fucked up psychological issues, that probably led you into his arms in the first place. Almost…

"Pretty unfair, it seems, don't you think so?" You say, leaning back in his lap and tugging at his shirt, wanting it gone already. Your eyes are roaming over his body, wondering how many tattoos are hiding under that shirt of his.

He couldn’t help but chuckle as you lean back and start messing with his shirt, tugging at it and making it clear you want it gone. Your eyes are still cloudy from the drug, and he could see you looking at his body. He smirks at your comment, tilting his head to look at you with a mischievous grin on his face. "Unfair, hm? What do you mean? Tell me, princess, what’s unfair?”

Nonetheless, he removes his shirt, and your breath is catching in your throat when you finally lay eyes on his bare torso. There are more tattoos than you anticipated, and judging by the lines of ink that are hiding beneath the fabric of his pants, there are even more you haven't seen yet.

It got you excited, the thought of touching him. His touch feels like heaven on your skin. Every sense of yours heightened because of the drug, and you wonder if he would feel like you when your fingers finally make contact with his bare skin.

He can feel your breath hitch as his shirt comes off, your eyes taking in the sight of his bare torso and the way all the tattoos he has on his arms and face continue down and cover a good portion of his chest and stomach. Your eyes are wide as you stare at him, and you obviously want to touch him, to feel him, and he looks at you with a knowing smirk on his face. "Go on, princess, you can touch them, you know?”

Your hand reaches out to touch him but is stopping midair. "Would it feel good for you? My touch, I mean. Would it feel as good as yours on me?" You wonder.

"Your touch feels so different on my skin, like…like electricity running through every vein. It's the drug, I know, but- Would it feel the same for you? Even though you are used to this feeling? I mean, can you even get used to this? Everything is so..." Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and you throw it back with a moan in the middle of your drug-induced ramble when his hands start rubbing up and down your waist. The hand that was still in between your two bodies is now placed flat against his sternum.

He watches as your hand pauses in the air, just inches away from his body, clearly wanting to feel him. He listens to you ramble about how his touch feels on your skin. He loves how you describe it as electricity, running through every vein. He can't help but touch you, feel up the curves of your perfect body. The way your head tips back and the sound of that beautiful moan gets him going like nothing else since quite some time. You are clearly having a great time under the influence.

"Yeah, princess, I’m used to this feeling. But I can still appreciate how good it feels..." He replies in a low voice. His hands continue to slowly roam up and down your body.

After that, your hands instinctively reach out to lay themselves flat against his chest before roaming from his pecs to his shoulders and down to grasp at his bizeps, holding on for dear life. Your hips start to grind down against him, letting out a hiss at the way the fabric of his pants feels against your bare core.

He loves the way you can’t seem to keep your hands off of his body, feeling your hands move across his bare chest and down to his biceps, gripping onto them and holding on like you are scared to let go. He feels the way your hips start to grind against him, your body desperate for friction, and he can’t help but let out a deep, low growl in answer to your needy whine.

"So beautiful~. Like your tattoos so much, S'kuna." You whimper out, taking in all of his flexing muscles and tattoos again. Your eyes are half lidded and glazed over with tears from the overwhelmingly heightened feeling of everything that's happening.

He chuckles at your comment, loving how you are clearly overwhelmed by everything going on, your eyes taking in every inch of him. You are out of it, and he enjoys every second of it. "Yeah, princess?”

"What next? Need more, please~. What am I supposed to do next?" Your hands fly around his neck again, playing with the strands of his hair, and you pull him a bit closer, leaning your forehead against his, taking a deep breath and inhaling his scent.

He can tell you are getting impatient, the way you keep grinding your hips against him and cling onto him, clearly wanting more, asking for more. He loves seeing you like this, so dependent, so needy, unable to think for yourself and needing him to tell you what to do next.

He brings his hands to your hips, gently grasping them tightly and keeping you from grinding against him any further as he leans his forehead against yours. He chuckles at your needy tone and places a soft kiss on the tip of your nose before standing up with you in his arms.

You cling to him like a koala when he suddenly starts standing up and walks the two of you over to his desk, sitting you down on top of it. Opening the drawer and getting out a condom, holding it between his teeth while he opens his pants and leaves them discarded on the floor together with his underwear.

He could see the look in your eyes, the way they dart down to take in the sight of him, and he couldn’t help but feel smug when he saw your reaction. You gulp seeing him bare for the first time, your eyes darting down before he lifts up your chin with two of his fingers, forcing you to look at him and not anything else.

You look into his eyes before they quickly dart to the condom, still stuck between his teeth and up to his eyes again. You honestly don't know where you found the confidence. Maybe it was the drug, but who cares... One of your hands was slowly traveling down from his chest to his abdomen before going even lower and wrapping your small hand around the base of his cock, trying your best to please him with your hands. Your eyes are on his the whole time and you bite your lips when he lets out a groan.

He lets out a low growl as your hand creeps lower and lower, and his gaze darkens as he watches you bite down on your lip while he lets out another deep groan. "Princess, what are you-”

Your other hand snatches the condom from his mouth, ripping it open with your teeth. "Can we please move this further faster? Want to feel you all over me. Just everywhere, please."

You try to convince him with your desperate pleas and a pout on your face, wanting to feel that amazing electric tingle again when he touches your skin. You can only imagine how amazing he will feel inside of you. All over you, clouding every nerve ending in your body with his presence.

He is completely caught off guard when you snatch the condom from his mouth, ripping it open with your teeth. He is about to say something, but your desperate pleas stop him. The pout on your face and the way you plead for him to move things forward makes his mind cloud over with lust and desire for you.

"Sukuna… I'm ready. I just want to feel you, please~."

It's all he needs to hear, chuckling at your eagerness before gripping at your hips, pulling you forward to the edge of the table. His hands are going to part your legs, almost aggressively pushing them apart, before rubbing the tip of his member through your folds a few times. He takes the condom from you, his eyes not leaving the spot between your thighs.

"Yeah, princess, we can move on. You're still sure I don't need to be gentle?" When all he gets is a strangled whine of his name, he takes it as a yes and quickly puts on the condom with practiced ease before lining himself up and with a last cocky smirk, he’s pushing forward while looking at your face, wanting to gauge your every reaction.

The sensation takes your breath away, the mix of pleasure and pain makes you grip tightly at his bizeps again, and your nails dig into his skin, deep. Your vision goes black for a second from the sheer size your body desperately tries to accommodate. Your eyes are rolling into the back of your head, a loud lewd moan of his name leaving your lips, and your head tips forward against his chest. For a moment, you think you're able to see the gates of heaven...or was it hell? You don't know, and you definitely don't care as long as the feeling will stay.

He is taken aback by the sharp sting on his skin when you cling onto his biceps, your nails digging into his skin so deep he is sure they'll leave marks. He can feel your breath hit his chest as you lean onto him, the sound of his name from your lips like music to his ears.

He's lifting your head from his chest with a tight grip on your jaw, looking into your dilated pupils with a smug smirk. He's enjoying how overwhelmed you are. You are beautiful and he can't believe he's actually fucking the good little rich girl everyone around campus adores like a common whore on his desk. He's taking in the sight of you before he bends himself over you, resting his other hand down onto the table to support himself as he begins to move against you, his chest pressed against yours.

He's setting a relentless pace from the start, not caring to give you a minute to breathe or considering your inexperience. You feel so damn fucking tight around him, he thinks he's loosing his mind. You look way too good like this and he shouldn't enjoy this as much as he is. You're just another name on his long list of different girls, a pretty little girl for a quick fuck. But he has to admit, you're a good one.

"Fuck! Feels so good S'kuna" You are not a person to use swear words but in the past minutes of him pounding into your tight walls countless swears, pleas, moans and whines left your lips. You just can't hold back, your whole body feels like it is on fire, every touch of his setting you ablaze. Your hands cling to him desperately, your lips connecting in heated kisses again and again until one of you runs out of breath and you could feel your impending orgasm on the tip of your tongue.

"So good, princess." He mutters against your lips, returning your kisses, each one more frenzied than the last, the two of you only breaking apart when you run out of breath before he's diving back in, not getting enough of you. He can feel your body trembling against his, your desperate hands clinging to him as if you are afraid he would disappear.

He feels your orgasm building up, and he knows you are close, the way your body trembles, and your muscles tighten around him. You're holding him in a vice like grip, almost making it hard for him to move in and out. You really want him to lose his damn mind, don't you? He grips your hips, increasing his pace, pushing both of you closer and closer to the edge.

You fall apart, and he is right behind you, riding out the waves of pleasure for the both of you with shallow thrusts. Your lips are still connected in needy kisses before leaning his forehead against yours.

He watches as your body trembles and shakes, coming undone completely. He feels your lips on his, both of you too desperate to let each other go just yet, not needing to break apart to catch your breath. He drinks everything in, every little reaction of yours. The way your nose scrunches up and your eyebrows furrow together, how your hazy eyes seem to roll back into your head behind your shut lids, your breaths stuttering in moans that he immediately swallows up in another ray of kisses, tasting you like a starved man.

But he still didn't leave you any time to catch your breath. Throwing away the condom in the trash can under his desk before lifting you off the table. He's holding you stable with one hand around your waist and quickly gets rid of all things lying on the table before bending you over it, his hand firmly pressed against your spine to keep you down. Grabbing a new condom and going right back to where you two left off.

Sukuna inserts himself in one swift motion. The stretch is still a pleasurable pain, but with how your wetness is currently dripping down your legs and after your first orgasm, he has it now way easier to bully his length inside you without much restraint.

Everything is so overwhelming. You forget to actually breathe. Your hands desperately cling to the edge of the table for stability, your legs shaking terribly. Your hips are probably bruised already from the force with which they are being pushed against the edge of the table again and again. The only thing keeping you somewhat grounded is his hand on your back.

He could see you clinging to the edge of the table, your legs shaking and trembling in an attempt to keep yourself stable. He knew your hips will most likely show those beautiful bruises in the morning from the force he was using to push your body against the edge and his strong grip during everything that had already happened and will happen tonight. He could tell you are getting overwhelmed, struggling to even remember how to breathe, and he has no plans of making it any easier for you any time soon. Drugs or not, Sukuna was always at the top of his game.

"Breathe, princess. Don't forget to breathe." He said in a low voice, his tone slightly teasing as he continued his onslaught on your poor pussy.

"I try! I really do! I'm trying but-" You cut off your own words with a hiccup, trying to get at least some air into your lungs but the way his hips move and he repeatedly hits that one perfect spot inside your gummy walls has you reeling. He's everywhere. The only things on your mind are his hands on your body and the way he moves against you.

You can feel yourself tightening up again, the pleasure building up incredibly fast and the knot in your stomach tightening painfully and needing release. One of his hands grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you flush against his chest.

He chuckles at how easy you are, nipping at your ear before whispering in a rough voice. "Cmon, princess. I know you can do it, just a little bit more, don't pass out on me yet."

One of your hands comes up to grab at the wrist of the hand he had currently entangled in your hair. You lean your head back onto his shoulder, moans and strangled breaths, leaving your open mouth constantly, and there is a little bit of drool at the corner of your mouth.

He smirks as one of your hands comes up to grab at his wrist, your head falling back against him as you let out a steady stream of moans and breaths, which occasionally became strangled and hiccupped. He could see the little bit of drool at the corner of your mouth as you try to keep yourself from passing out and he presses a small kiss against the corner of your lips, letting his tongue dart out to lick the drool from your pretty lips before he suddenly shoves two of his fingers inside your mouth.

"Bite me, and I'll bite you back, princess." He warns in a low voice, his tone rough and just as breathless as your own.

His long and slender fingers in your mouth are making you gag, and this is all you need to be pushed over the edge. Before his sentence even registers in your lust and weed clouded brain you bite down onto his fingers, the taste of blood in your mouth makes you hum out as you come down from your high but Sukuna is not stopping and immediately you can feel yourself getting close to finishing again.

He groans as you bite down onto his fingers, the taste of blood seeping into your mouth, making you hum out in pleasure, clearly enjoying yourself and sending a wave of pleasure through him in return. Feeling the way your body trembles and convulses as you come down from your high, but he had no plans of stopping anytime soon.

Sukuna kept grinding in and out of you, hitting every spot perfectly. Your pussy a perfect fit for his long and girthy cock and he doesn't want to stop. He can't, not before he feels you come undone at least a dozen times more and so he pushes you into overstimulation, taking you over the edge again and again.

Your head falls back against the table, his hand still in your hair and pressing your cheek down against it and you think you might actually die from the way he draws out one orgasm after the other without stopping, without giving you time to breathe and recover. His other hand makes its way to your sensitive bundle of nerves, and just the simple action of pressing his thumb against it makes you convulse and cry out in another wave of pleasure. Finally, he comes after holding himself off for an almost painful amount of time, drawn over the edge with you, and a loud and guttural groan leaves his mouth right into your ear.

He gently removes his fingers from your mouth and wraps his arms around you right under your chest, pulling you close to him and whispering in your ear. "You did good, princess.”

Both your breathing is ragged, the two of you collapsing onto the desk in exhaustion and contentment, and his weight on top of you is helping you through the feeling of emptiness after he pulls out. He is pressing light kisses along your shoulder blades until you calm down. "Come on, princess, you need a hit. Nothing's better than a little something after a good fuck, huh?"

He removes himself from you completely, letting go of you and stepping back, making you collapse onto the floor with a thud as your weak and trembling legs are giving out under you while you still try to breathe.

He chuckles slightly at your current state, watching you struggle to breathe sitting on the floor. "You alright, princess?" He asks, grabbing a joint and a lighter.

He stands in front of you and looks down, his head tilted slightly and a cocky grin on his face. He lights up the joint and inhales before squatting next to you. He blows the smoke straight into your face and holds the joint into your direction, a silent invitation to take it. You take the joint with trembling hands and get a deep hit. The sensation of smoke filling your lungs is making you close your eyes for a second. Then he lifts you up, walks to the bed, and sits you down onto his lap again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and holding you close.

You take another hit, letting the smoke out slowly before taking the two fingers he had stuffed in your mouth earlier between your lips, sucking them in and swirling around them with your tongue. Tasting his blood for a second time is making you hum out again. "I'm sorry about that." You say, still kitten-licking his fingers.

He chuckles as he watches you take another hit, the smoke slowly leaving your lips and your body completely relaxed. He raises his eyebrows as you start sucking on his fingers, your tongue lapping at them and swirling around them, tasting the blood again. He lets out a low sigh when you speak, your gentle apology muffled as you continue licking his fingers. "It's alright, princess. A little bit of pain can be good sometimes.”

"You said you'd bite back." You giggle. "I'd like you to, you know? To bite back, I mean… Would be nice to take a mark with me. Something to remind me of today." Your voice gets quieter, your fingers playing around with his.

He chuckles when you bring up the fact that he said he would bite back. "Are you sure? I bite pretty hard, princess. I don't usually hold back." He says in a low, rough tone. He then notices how your voice gets quieter, your fingers playing around with his, and he could sense the vulnerability in your voice. "Where do you want me to mark you, princess? Somewhere people can see it? Somewhere only I can see it?”

Your head perks up at his sentences. "Can we do both?" You ask curiously, your eyes wide and gleaming with excitement. "Would be nice to show it off to others, I definitely want to do that, but I also want to have something for only the two of us. Something nobody knows. A secret…”

He smirks at your eager question, amused by your excitement. "Of course we can do both, princess. I like the idea of you showing off to others, and I like the idea of having something just for us even more."

He lifts your chin up, tilting your head to the side to expose your neck. He runs his strong, rough hand along your soft, delicate skin, his gaze fixated on you. "The question is, where should we put these bite marks? Any specific places you have in mind, princess?”

"How about we choose one each? Would that be okay for you? I think I already know where I want to have the one I can show off to others..." You look into his eyes, just watching him as he smokes the joint.

He nods at your suggestion, finding the idea of choosing one each to be appealing. "That works for me, princess. I like the sound of that. Why don't you go first and tell me where you want your 'showing off' bite mark to be."

He takes another hit from the joint, his gaze still fixated on you as he exhales the smoke and you take his hand in yours and guide it slowly from the nape of your neck to the expanse of your collarbone. "It's visible enough to peek out under the uniform but not enough to get me in trouble with the school board." You giggle at the thought. "Although I suspect that thanks to you, I will get into trouble more often in the future, huh?”

He watches as you guide his hand to your collarbone, the placement being both visible and discreet enough. He chuckles at your question, a sly smirk appearing on his face. "Oh, princess, you can count on it. I have a feeling we're going to cause plenty of trouble together in the future." He says, his tone suggestive and playful.

You shuffle a little closer in his lap. Your core deliciously rubbing against his twitching cock in the process, making you exhale a breath. You take the joint from his hands taking a last hit before stubbing it out in the ashtray. Looking into his eyes again, your hands are sneaking around his neck, playing with his pinkish hair as you lean in and expose your neck for him.

He watches as you shuffle closer to him. The way your lower bodies rub against each other is making him respond with a new wave of desire, and a low growl escapes his lips. His gaze darkens as you expose your neck to him, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he leans in, his breath hot against your skin.

He starts off slowly, the kisses on your skin light and teasing, his lips softly ghosting over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. When his teeth finally sink into your skin, you can't hold back the breathy moan from escaping your mouth. Your hands are tightening in the strands of his hair and pushing him closer, not wanting him to stop until he draws blood, just like you did, until everyone would know what you two did.

The moment his teeth sink into your skin, feeling you shiver and moan, he knows there was no turning back now. "Don't stop. Feels so good..."

You must be a masochist because the feeling of his teeth on your neck, feeling the blood trickling out of the wound just to get licked up by his tongue, made you incredibly aroused. Your hips are starting to slowly grind against him, making his hands on your hips tighten their hold, and Sukuna continues to kiss and suck and bite bruises into your beautiful smooth skin.

He could feel your body responding to his, grinding against him as he lapped at the blood on your neck. "Good girl..." He whispers, his voice low and sultry.

"Need you, Sukuna. Need you again..." Your hips are still grinding into his, and you can tell that you are not the only one getting aroused again. "Can I- Can I take control this time, please?" You had the desperate desire to feel him again, wanting to make him feel good. Make the two of you feel good, hoping that despite his obvious dominant demeanor, he would allow you to stay on top this time.

When you ask to take control this time, he can see the desperate need in your eyes, and he was powerless to deny you. "Of course you can, princess. You can have as much control as you want. Take the lead and show me what you got, hm?"

He leans back, his hands on your hips loosening their grip, giving you the reins. He looks at you expectantly, his expression somewhere between eager and curious, and you don't need to be told twice when he reaches out for a condom from the nightstand and hands it over to you.

“How many of those do you have conveniently laying around, huh?" You ask, slightly amused as you take a hold of Sukuna's cock, slowly dragging it along your wetness before rolling on the condom and keeping eye contact the whole time.

He chuckles when you take the condom from him, a smirk on his face. "Aww, are you jealous?" He teases, his voice lighthearted. "Don't worry, princess, let's just say I have enough to keep us busy for a long, long time." He chuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You're sinking down slowly, teasing the both of you with your slow movement and when you finally sit down on top of him, you close your eyes in bliss, feeling him even deeper inside your gut than in the other positions before.

He couldn't help but let out a low, content hiss as you slid down on him, your movements slow and deliberate. His eyes dark with desire and his hands gripping your hips tightly as he watches you take him fully, the feeling of your body clenching around him sending jolts of pleasure coursing through his body.

You start rocking your hips slowly, gauging his every expression and finding out what would feel good for not only you but him too before falling into a steady rhythm shortly after. The two of you are lost in pleasure, and soon enough, you are consumed by one another once again. Sharing hungry kisses and hands all over each other. "So good, S'kuna. So deep...so big…”

He watches you intently, his expression one of pure lust as you rock your hips against him. He relishes every little movement you make, every sound that escapes your lips, every expression that flashes across your face. Before long, he is lost in a world of ecstasy, his hands roaming over your body, desperate to touch every inch of you, desperate to pull you closer to him. As you whisper those sweet words in his ear, he can't help but respond, his voice low and strained. "You feel so good, princess... So tight... So perfect.”

You are so lost into your own little world that neither of you notice the keys rattling in the lock. The door opens to a rather tipsy Itadori Yuji."Yo, Sukuna, you wouldn't believe what Choso told me, we went out and-." Itadori is standing in the doorway, shocked and watching the two of us shamelessly. Itadori's words die in his throat as he takes in the scene before him. You, riding Sukuna, the two of you completely consumed by each other and the high.

Sukuna looks at him with a cocky grin on his face, just raising an eyebrow. "Can't you knock, brat?”

You look over as well and hold eye contact for a moment while your hips are not stopping their movement. You couldn't stop, even if you wanted to, with the way Sukuna's hands kept grabbing at your hips and helping you move. You bring your gaze back onto Sukuna and his body before demanding his attention back with a whine.

Sukuna doesn't even bother to cover you up before your desperate whine brings his focus back to you, and he couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head at his younger roommate. Without taking his eyes off of you, he calls out to him. “Close the door, idiot."

As soon as Itadori closes the door behind him, Sukuna's hands on your hips stop your movement. The action makes you let out a frustrated whine. He just stares at you for a moment, his gaze flickering to the mark on your shoulder before a wicked grin spreads across your face.

He flips you over, hovering above you and giving one quick kiss to your lips before moving down the bed, putting your thighs over his shoulders with his face inches away from your private parts. "I'm not done with you yet, princess. Remember when I said I bite hard? Well, let me show you where I plan to leave our little secret.”

Without further warning, he sinks his teeth into your upper inner thigh. The pleasurable pain causes your back to arch from the bed. Instinctively you try to wriggle out of his hold but it was no use, he had you locked in place with his hands around your thighs, one splayed out over your stomach and the other gripping your hips bruisingly. Your hands grip at the strands of his hair and a loud cry leaves your mouth when you come undone from Sukuna leaving his imprint on you, surprising the both of you with just how sensitive you actually are right now.

He still holds you down firmly, not letting you get away as his teeth sink deep into your thigh, leaving behind a bite that will turn into a beautiful bruising mark. Feeling your body writhing in pleasure beneath him, he can't help but chuckle against your skin. "Did you just come from that, princess?”

Sukuna looks up at you, a satisfied grin on his face. The mark he had left on your thigh is already starting to bruise. He runs his tongue lightly over the mark, savoring the taste of your skin and making you moan out again. Only when he is satisfied, he sits back, admiring his handiwork. Your breathing is heavy and ragged, your body quivering with aftershocks, and he leans over you, his lips hovering just above yours, a self-satisfied smile on your face.

"We need to do stuff like this more often." You say with a breathless chuckle. Putting your thighs around his hips, pulling him down a bit with pleading eyes, begging for him to make you feel good again.

Sukuna just sits on his heels and takes in the view of the mark he left on your thigh. It was beautiful, deep and dark, a sure sign that you are his. Your body is trembling, and he smiles down at your words, his chest puffing up with pride. He lets out a low growl of approval, running his hands up your body again before leaning down and connecting you in a deep kiss. "Yeah, we definitely should.”

He immediately sinks back into you, rocking his hips against yours at a harsh brutal pace. His hands are everywhere, and your tongues are tangled with each other, not stopping, not even for breathing. You are both desperate, desperate to feel good, desperate to make the other one feel good, desperate to have more even though it feels like it will never be enough.

Your bodies move together in a frenzied rhythm, his hips slapping hard into the back of your thighs and your mouths and hands never staying still. Both of you are lost in a world solely made for the two of you. The air is heavy with the sounds of labored breaths, the whispers of voices, the sounds of bodies as they come together over and over. His touches are hungry and demanding, his words possessive and primal.

When he feels your body starting to tense and shiver, hinting at your impending release, he lifts your hips up, pressing your thighs close to your chest, the new angle causing you to cry out in pleasure.

It didn't take long for you to fall over the edge, and he is following right behind, collapsing on top of you. The two of you are breathing heavily, and you look at him with a lazy smile, your eyes still dilated from lust and the drug. "I don't think I will ever get enough of this, honestly.”

Sukuna lays on top of you for a moment, your bodies still connected, his head resting on your shoulder and his chest rising and falling, his heart pounding against his ribcage. When he looks up at you, the smile on your face is languid, your eyes still dilated with pleasure. "Me neither, princess. I don't think I'll get enough of you either. You're too damn addictive.”

"More addictive than the substances you throw all day?" You giggle out before giving him a sly, playful look.

A smile appears on Sukuna's face at the mention of his drug use, his arms wrapping around you to pull you closer, not wanting to be apart from you just yet. "Oh, no question about it. You're way more addictive than any substance I've tried so far. You're like this drug I just can't get enough of. Always wanting more, always wanting to have you close to me. I might be in trouble, princess."

A small smile is still on your face when your hands card through his hair and your eyes take in his appearance once again. He is so fucking beautiful. His pink hair is all sweaty and messy, his crimson red eyes dark and dilated from lust, his lips kiss bitten and just as swollen as your own and the black ink stands in contrast to his fair skin.

As you rake your fingers through his hair, he closes his eyes, enjoying the sensation before opening them again and meeting your gaze. There's a look in his eyes that's both intense and soft, a combination that he never showed before, to nobody and something that only you seem to bring out in him.

You just lay in each other's arms in silence for a few minutes. Calming not only your bodies down but also your minds and relishing in the presence of the other as you're replaying the memories of the day.

"I'm kinda hungry... like really, really hungry..." You tell him in a quiet whisper, not wanting to interrupt the peaceful silence more than necessary while still combing through his hair while he leaves small kisses against your shoulder and collarbone.

When your breaths return to a normal pace and your minds slowly come back to reality, you trace lazy patterns on his skin. Sukuna can't believe he actually feels content and somewhat satisfied and…happy? There is no way he would get attached to you, to this. Whatever this is.

As you whisper about being hungry, he can't help but chuckle, his eyes looking down at you. "Of course you're hungry, princess. It's normal to get a little hungry after vigorous activity. What do you wanna eat?”

He sits up on the bed, and you let out a whine at the loss of contact, immediately regretting saying something. He leans over you to reach the nightstand, getting his phone and lighting a cigarette, rolling onto his back beside you in the pillows before holding one of his arms open for you.

You instantly smile brightly and shuffle into his arms again, pressing yourself into him from the side, and he securely wraps an arm around you, enjoying this feeling of having you tucked close to him. "Oh, there is this amazing local diner. They have everything! Pizza, pasta, burgers, and the spare ribs are to die for! We could-" You start talking loudly and all excited about the food before interrupting yourself when you look up at Sukuna and he just stares back with an amused smile, his hands lazily stroking up and down your bare skin.

"I started rambling again, didn't I?" You ask with an embarrassed chuckle, blushing slightly.

"You definitely did, princess," He answers with a chuckle of his own. "It's cute, though. You get really excited when you talk about food.”

"Yeah, that's because this place is really good! You've never been there?" You still start to ramble on and on about how you discovered the restaurant first and tell him a few fun stories you had with your friends at the diner, wether he wants to hear them or not. In the meantime, you two take a look at the menu and place your order for delivery before comfortable silence falls over you. The only sound is the quiet hum of the air conditioning.

"Sukuna, can I ask you something?" Your voice is timid but serious, a hint of curiosity behind your words.

He immediately turns to look at you, his attention fully on you now as he takes a last drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out in the nearby ashtray. "Course you can, ask me anything, princess.”

For a moment, you carefully think over your choice of words, not wanting to make him angry because this question would invade his personal space too much. "Why do you take drugs? I mean, I kinda get the appeal right now..." You chuckle at the thought of yourself being so much against anything that would break a rule just a few hours ago and now you lay in the arms of the college bad boy and are high like a kite.

He can't help but chuckle at the irony of it all. Just a few hours ago, you were so against any form of rule-breaking, and now you're here. The college sweetheart, lying in Sukana Ryomen’s arms, completely wasted and asking about drugs.

You are a little more serious again when investigating further into Sukuna's private life. "But what got you into it? Was it just curiosity, or did something happen or... I mean, how does one find out about all this stuff?"

He listens carefully as you ask your question, his expression impassive but his mind thinking about how he should respond. It's a personal question, something he doesn’t usually get asked by anyone, let alone some girl he hooked up with. But somehow, he doesn’t mind answering you.

"It started out of curiosity. Most of my friends already started smoking weed and drinking at parties, so I tried it out. Soon, I got introduced to more...hard stuff. It was easy to get, and honestly? It took all my worries and stresses away. It made me feel something, pushing away the usual numbness."

"Yeah... I guess I know what you mean..." Your eyes are distant, and your eyebrows furrow as if in deep thought. Memories you keep hidden deep inside of you bubbling to the surface and emotions that are pushed so far back, that you yourself even forgot about them for a moment.

Sukuna can tell that there are memories and emotions buried deep inside, locked away in a place you hardly dare to visit, brought forward in your drug induced state. He just continues to stroke your back, silently telling you it's okay to go on.

“Growing up as a rich girl is not as easy as one might think..." You mumble.

When you speak again, your voice quiet and strained, he can feel the weight behind your words. Your words hang in the air between you two, and he knows there's more to that sentence than you're saying.

You let out a deep exhale and look at him with a small smile. "The next time you need a stress relief, feel free to call me over, okay?"

Your voice is soft, and the vulnerability from a moment ago is gone. The fact that the both of you almost opened up to one another about deep emotional trauma still lingering heavy in the air even though neither of you wanted to admit it. Whatever this thing between you is, it's better if you don't get too personal.

He can tell you're intentionally steering away from the conversation you are having, trying to lighten the mood and keep things casual. Dancing around the edges of each other's emotional walls, with neither of you wanting to get too personal or vulnerable with each other. It's easier that way to keep things nice and uncomplicated.

"Are you telling me that if I ever need to release some stress, you're willing to take one for the team, princess?”

You let out a bright laugh, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room. "The whole team might be a bit much, don't you think? I've seen the guys you hang out with, and I don't think that would work well with my body. Like I could actually die, I think." The image of your small innocent self with Sukuna's drugged cocky friends plays around in your mind. Yeah... that wouldn't end well.

Your laugh is like music to his ears, the sound filling the room and making his heart skip a beat. Your playful response about the team made him laugh as well. The image of you with his rowdy friends causes a mix of emotions to stir within him - both a bit of jealousy and protectiveness.

Your hands come up to cup his face, squishing his cheeks lightly, your eyes sparkling with amusement and a small hint of affection that you aren't even aware of. "But for you, Ryomen Sukuna, I might make an exception.”

When your hands cup his face, the light squeezes, and the affectionate look in your eyes makes his chest feel tight. But of course, he plays it cool, as always, a smirk appearing on his face as he leans in closer to you.

"Damn right, you will!" He growls while tackling you down playfully into the sheets, his head buried in your neck and leaving small little kisses that would soon develop into another exhausting round of you being bent like a pretzel underneath him.

You spent the rest of the night together. Eating when the food arrives, talking about random stuff, watching a movie, and just getting down from the high.

You could feel the effects of the weed slowly subsiding, and you are surprised that you are still content with being around him. You would have thought the moment your head cleared, you would panic. But you didn't. On the contrary even, you rather enjoy his company.

In the morning, he sent you home with a kiss on your lips and a promise to call again, a subtle promise that there will be a next time.

[takes1]

p.2 bokuto x inexperienced!reader

bokuto is so fun to write it's crazy. merry christmas eve 😋

warnings. nsfw themes, future nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / kuroo's little sister!reader / touchy!bokuto / flirty!bokuto / corruption kink!bokuto / virgin!reader / nerdy!reader / kuroo cockblocking / petnames / protective kuroo / praise kink!bokuto / brother's best friend trope / bokuto being a bad friend / bokuto crushing on you / 2.0k nsfw + future parts to follow, reply to be added to taglist

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. my request box. part one here.

"Why are you out?"

You can't help but guffaw at Tetsurou's accusatory tone.

There was no evidence to condemn you for instigating the whole Bokuto situation, except for maybe the deliberate change in attire before you decided to leave your room. You had to put something more skimpy on than your usual house clothes.

You had no plan, no real intentions other than the overwhelming desire for his friend's attention. Pacing around your room for hours had gotten old.

It wasn't too much, but it didn't help you make a strong case to come down from your 'tower' to Tetsurou - who was guarding the bottom of the stairs like a dragon.

"It's 5? I'm feeding your cats? Like I do every day--," You never let him get in your way or push you around before, and today would not be the first.

His hand flew to the other side of the railing. Thanks to his freakish arm span, he was successful in taking up the whole staircase, and then some.

"Fat chance. They're fed. Go back to your room, square."

"Eat shit-- and- die-!" You struggled to muscle your way around him, but it was accomplished- the only problem was that he had you by one ankle. He sat, leaned into the top of the stairs with his bodyweight.

You couldn't overcome a move like that, so you sat down too when he started to crawl, leading with only one arm and drag you back up the stairs. You were trying to use your weight to balance it out like he was, but he was older, stronger, bigger, and meaner, so you were slowly getting dragged up.

The whole ordeal was loud, thunderous because of the hollow floor beneath the even louder, creaky hardwood staircase.

Your head closest to the base railing, you made eye contact with some of his friends on the first floor, watching in giggly fascination at the struggle-, you sneered, rolling your eyes. You were getting so tired of his theatric bullshit making a clown out of you.

"Hey! Kuroo! That's not a fair fight, cut it out!" Somebody, somebody gracious and considerate, shouted to your defense.

Finally, an ounce of kindness.

It made his grip soften just enough for you, with the help of the railing, to take your ankle back.

You sighed and used your hands to pull yourself back up. The two of you were pissed off and out of breath, staring each other down.

"Yo! You almost ready?" Bokuto called from the first floor.

The two of you turned away from one another to look at him. He only spared a small glance towards Tetsurou, coming back down past you, before settling into an obvious, slow scan of your body in that new outfit.

His long arm stretched up the handrail, fingers waving toward you.

"Heyy, Prettyyy," Was gentle, brushing past his perfect lips.

He behaved as if he wasn't in your house, as if you hadn't met a few hours ago, as if Tetsurou's proximity didn't bother him in the slightest.

That was all you wanted. You leaned into your side, weak under his handsome stare, practically melting against the railing. A dreamy smile gave way for an absent giggle to follow, "Hii..."

Bokuto looked so perfect in his athletic clothes. You looked to your brother and realized he had his knee pads on. There was a hustle and bustle about the first floor and you instantly pieced together that they were going to play a game somewhere.

"Watch it," Tetsurou slapped the back of his hand on Bokuto's chest.

He held a firm glare between them for a moment. Bokuto didn't return the intensity until Tetsurou turned to address you. Only then did his brows drop, his frown grew a little darker. His airheaded, empty eyes narrowed with ill intention.

"Go on, go back upstairs," Tetsurou shooed you away like one of his cats.

"What?!" Bokuto scoffed, his friendliness was back in a flash.

He grasped for a quick argument, "We need a score keeper, man!"

It was a glorious opportunity to jump at and defend. No matter how much Tetsurou argued, he couldn't change either of your minds. In the process, you got a few other Nekoma guys to agree with you, and suddenly he was the odd-one-out, unable to make any solid case to keep you stuck at home.

You scrambled up to your room, thanking god for this one in a million chance, to grab a few things. When you barreled out the door, about to fly down the stairs, you nearly trampled over the only tolerable cat of your brother's.

"Woahh, sweetie,"

You stopped to let your door open so she could wander inside while you were gone.

Bokuto eyed you carefully from the first floor, thumb mindlessly brushing over his bottom lip. The little top you opted for was fucking glorious when you leaned down to pet her. He knew he couldn't afford to be careless with you, like most other things. But something about you sabotaged his already poor ability to keep his excitement contained.

-

That's why he squeezed a heavy arm around your waist once you had all made it to the gym- at first, nothing but an enthusiastic, friendly gesture.

Then that cute little laugh, the purity in your eyes avoiding his sharp-toothed grin, got his mind racing again, thinking about all the ways he could make you blush both on and off this court.

"You gonna watch me wrack up all the points today, babe?" Just flew out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Akaashi raised his brow at both his confirmed suspicions and the cocky assertion.

It was natural that Bokuto was preoccupied performing for the only audience there. The attention whore couldn't get enough of your captivated reactions. The way you ogled at him and gasped at every impressive spike, block, receive fueled his ego so bad that he was getting into an annoyingly good groove.

Every time he did something he wanted to be worthy of praise, his eyes preyed off of you; validated with exactly the kind of reaction he wanted, needed to see.

Since there were so many players, they switched out almost as often as anyone on-court needed a break.

Bokuto stayed until he was drenched in sweat, ragged in breath, and too exhausted to shout anymore.

Usually, members of his actual team liked to switch him out more often than this game called for. But he was riding such a manic high from your feedback that he never crashed like normal.

It wasn't until Akaashi encouraged him to go talk to you on the sidelines did he accept the chance for a rest.

He sauntered to a stop so intimately close to you that it made you side-step away from him, sheepish, eyes firmly on the game.

You could tell he was tired in the way he held himself, hands on his powerful mid-thighs, back expanding and shrinking with uneven breaths. He would only stand upright to drink some water, just to let it spill down the corners of his mouth and onto his sopping shirt.

"(Y/n)! Point for us!"

A panicked flip of the score.

"Sorry!"

Maybe you hadn't been watching the game so well.

He stood up straight, finally rested enough with a big groan, "Aaagh-!"

You briefly caught Bokuto's eye when you looked up from his form-fitted shirt. Your heart nearly stopped. Arms crossed, chest filled with a big breath in, your worried eyes struggled to look straight forward.

His chuckling grew in volume at your mannerisms under a bitten lip.

"Don't worry so much, babygirl," Bokuto finally said something, hand rested right at the base of your neck as he leaned down to speak only to you, "I wantcha to watch me."

The lengthy bout of quiet between you may have given you the impression that he was deliberate in his words. But the reality was that nothing he said was very thoughtful. His petnames, his touches, his abundant and inappropriate honesty were all products of his failure to control himself.

Your head was swimming, overwhelmed at his touch and his words.

He was rubbing his thumb against the side of your neck, still bent to watch you closely. Of course, now you wouldn't look at him.

He noticed how, if he tried, he could probably wrap his hand all the way around your throat. His jaw worked, as his hardened gaze flickered from your chest to your lips.

The slam of a ball on the court spurred you to quickly move, turn the score again.

Bokuto straightened, clearing his throat, rubbing his face with intensity at your absence, "Shit."

He realized his team was getting behind when he actually looked at the score. Akaashi made eye contact with him from the court and motioned a switch-out.

In his reluctance to leave, the best idea he'd ever had crossed his mind and he couldn't help but verbalize it.

"How 'bout a good luck kiss?"

Your eyes widened at his suggestion. For a second, you weren't sure if he was making fun of you, so you looked more uncomfortable than anything. Half of your attention was on the game, the other was on him.

"No?" Bokuto looked downright depressed.

His massive shoulders stooped, his pouty eyes so pitiful it spurred you to comfort him.

"Well- waitwait, I- don't know," You were getting warm quickly, unable to tell him yes or no, "I--,"

"Just a peck?" He begged.

Time was up. You couldn't form a word, let alone an answer, under so much pressure.

"Airhead! Your setter wants you," Tetsurou called from the court.

That could've been a deliberate way to get him away from you, but Akaashi did legitimately need him. He trudged onto the court, looking less energized than when he left for a needed break earlier.

He played like it, too. It could have been argued that he was the very reason their slapped-together team ended up losing. His heart was not in it.

All the guys were satisfied and tired, so they called it there, ending on a low note for you, since your brother's team was automatically vilified in your mind.

Your presence was small, apologetic as you passed Bokuto the water he had abandoned.

He barely met your eyes. He was moody and feeling sorry for himself since he felt like a loser in a couple of different ways.

"Akaashi said I pressured you, earlier," Was so quiet that it surprised you. You had no idea he was capable of that volume.

He sighed through his nose, squinting around as he took a big gulp of water. It gave you the opportunity to look for the setter in question, grateful for the consideration, and that he had such a good friend in his life.

"So I'm- sorry," He struggled, eyes on you but not your face, "If I did."

You were holding yourself tight. Heat crawled up your neck and ears.

A small motion for him to come to you, presumably so you could whisper something in his ear. His brow raised, a cute, intrigued look across his face that made you want to swoon as he did so.

You controlled yourself for just long enough to press a gentle kiss against the corner of his mouth.

It felt foreign, like something you had to hold your breath for, being so close to another person. You were hoping you did it correctly as it shocked him upright.

His mouth hung open, his excitement enough to make you laugh under your hands.

"Dude!" He laughed with you, silly and so handsome because his grin fit his face just right, "Fuck yes!"

Bokuto couldn't help but to scoop you up off of your feet in a big bear hug and swing you in a circle, unable to control himself despite the fact that just about everyone left in the gym was watching. When Tetsurou observed this show of affection, he went to separate you.

Yet, in the process, he got picked up instead- and swung around in a similar fashion.

And to your surprise, it did help to shut him up. He couldn't quite remember what he was so concerned about, vision still spinning as he stumbled back, laughing.

"Akaashi! Come here, you're next!"

♕VIP♕

@integers @yuchacco

taglist. thank ya'll!

@tuamadrequellavacca @dumbpuppyluv @raracha @jenerator10 @thisiswhereishitpostalot @feiwelinchen @loodleloodle @partyinthepants @ghostreader0307

my masterlist. my request box.

reply to be added for future parts!

[carisc4pshaw]

Office Christmas Party

In which the Hotchner!reader needs a plus one for an office Christmas party and Aaron Hotchner is quick to suggest Spencer accompanying her. (Fluff&Smut!)

word count: 4.4k

tags: office christmas party, one bed, aaron hotchner (dad), fem reader, bisexual reader, elle greenaway, spencer reid, plus one, new york city, christmas movie, room service, falling in love, crush, smut, fluff, elevator kissing, fancy hotel, manhattan, sightseeing, work colleagues, dating the boss’ daughter, girly reader

warnings: elevator kissing, sub spencer reid, dick riding, protected PinV sex

notes: Happy Christmas/ Christmas eve everyone! I hope you enjoy this, I tried my best but I’m still new to writing with a reader. I think I remembered all the tags pls let me know if * missed anything.

—————————💚————————

Two weeks before Christmas you walked into the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the FBI, your shoulder bag swinging as you walked up the small staircase towards your father’s office not bothering to knock before opening the door.

“What have I told you about knocking,” Aaron Hotchner looked up from whatever file he was finishing to see you standing in the doorway.

“My bad? I need help,” you sighed loudly sitting down on the chair opposite him.

“What have you done now? Hotch asked putting down his pen.

You gasped putting a hand on your chest, “That’s rude! I haven’t done anything.”

“Then what do you need help with?” He sat back in his chair looking at you waiting for you to continue talking.

“There’s a Christmas work party out of town next week and I have no plus one and I don’t want to go alone, help me find someone to go with please!”

“Man or woman? You know this isn’t exactly the help you ask your father for.”

“I know but I’m desperate, I’ll take anything, anyone,” You dramatically slumped over on his desk putting your head in your arms that were folded on the desk.

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s it? I need to know possible suitors now. Does that hot brunette still work here I saw her once when I came to visit.”

“Who?” Aaron raised an eyebrow.

“Um,” you pictured yourself being back there that day and looking over at her desk, “Elle!”

“Yes.. she works here but she’s a little old for you?”

“She doesn’t look old, how old is she?”

“29.”

“Dad that’s only eight years difference. I’ve dated older people than that.”

“I have Elle on a special assignment in Texas next week but you’re more than welcome to ask her on a date another time I suppose…” Aaron said before adding, “What about Spencer?”

You pondered for a moment, “Look I like him he’s got that sexy nerd vibe.. also he looks like he’d be clueless but so good in b-“ You stopped what you were saying remembering you were speaking to your father, not a friend, “Nevermind. Do you think he will ramble a lot I don’t know if the other workers will like it, they are nowhere near as smart as him and I don’t want them to say things about him.”

“He does talk a lot but I thought you liked that plus he’s closer to your age,” Hotch made his point after shaking his head at your words, he wasn’t born yesterday he knew exactly what you were about to say and he did not like it at all.

“I suppose, there’s going to be models, influencers and fashion magazines we work with there though… I guess Spencer isn’t too bad he has a grandad kind of style going on people and by people I mean me, find that quite hot nowadays.”

“Look I have a job to do if you’re going to ask him just ask,” He said looking back at his file, “Aren’t you meant to be at work?”

“The company are scouting new models today I’m not required to be there, I don’t do that.”

“Right, well speak to Spencer and tell him I’ll give him extra time off with pay since he’ll be entertaining you. Where is this party?”

“New York. The company convinced Lilia Archer to go. I’m so excited she’s awesome.”

“Lilia Archer? Mention her and Spencer will be there I’m sure.”

“What do you mean? He’s got like a crush on her?”

“We had a case she was involved with last year, Spencer kissed her.”

“What?” you asked shocked but also with a hint of jealousy bubbling in your stomach.

Aaron laughed, “It was… unexpected.”

“You can say that again,” you picked up your bag, “I’ll see you later dad, love you.”

Hotch stood from his chair and walked around the corner of his desk pulling his daughter into a hug, “I love you too.”

You left the office walking down the stairs while looking around to see if you could spot Spencer.

You finally found him over by the coffee machine pouring an unnecessary amount of sugar into his coffee, “Spencer?”

The man turned around quickly hearing his name spoken so softly by a voice he recognised, “Y/N! Hi, what are you doing here?”

“I was actually looking for you,” you started.

“You were… Why?” His lips pressed into a straight line as his eyebrows knitted together.

“Are you busy next week? On Friday and Saturday?”

“I mean yes, I’ll be here…”

“And what if my father gave you some time off?” you smiled with hope.

“What’s going on?”

“I need a plus one for a Christmas party in New York, Please be my plus one Spence,” you clasped your hands together grinning widely.

“I’m not sure it’s really… well my scene, you work in fashion with models and I don’t usually go to parties.”

“Please Spencer, Lilia Archer is going to be there apparently,” you smirked a little.

“Oh I definitely cannot go, she’s got a boyfriend it will just be awkward,” Spencer frowned.

“Fine, I’ll have her uninvited or something? Please Spencer, If you don’t want to share a room with me I’ll pay for you to have your own.”

“What, no, you don’t have to spend your money on that I don’t mind sharing i-if that’s okay with you, of course!” Spencer stuttered getting nervous.

“So you’re coming?” the wide smile reappeared on your face.

Spencer sighed, “I guess so, what do I need to take?”

“Can I have your keys?”

“What why?” Spencer’s eyes widened.

“I have a day off, you are always busy and I will pick good outfits, it’s literally my job, I’ll go pack for you,” you put your hand out waiting for his keys.

“But I haven’t tidied up, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Spence you’re a clean freak your meaning of messy is everyone else’s spotless clean.”

“Just stick to the wardrobe, don’t snoop around I know what you’re like,” Spencer said as he handed over his keys.

“Yes Doctor Reid, oh yeah if it wasn’t obvious you’re going as my boyfriend,” you kissed him on the cheek before walking off not giving him time to respond.

“What’s going on there pretty boy? The big boss wouldn’t be too happy if he saw that,” Derek said as Spencer’s blush deepened on his cheeks.

“I thought she was into me…” Elle added.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t turn down a night with both of you,” Derek winked at the brunette.

“You’re disgusting,” She rolled her eyes going back to typing on her computer.

——————

When Spencer returned home from work the next day, he opened the door to see his apartment fairly clean with his books that didn’t fit in the bookcase stacked up in alphabetical order as well as some cookies on the kitchen counter and as he went into his room he saw the open suitcase on the bed with a note by the side.

I hope you like everything I’ve packed and you enjoy the cookies I made you. I’m trying to be a good ‘girlfriend’ ;)

Y/N <3

Over the next few days, You only came into the office once to give Spencer another note that contained your phone number so you could communicate about where to meet before flying to New York.

On the day of the trip, Spencer drove to your apartment at 6 am, your flight was at 8:30 am but your apartment was a 20-minute bus ride from the airport meaning it was the best place to meet.

Spencer knocked on the door and waited a few minutes before knocking again.

“Spencer there’s a key under the mat!” You called through the apartment. The man rolled his eyes, you had probably woken up your neighbours and just told them where you had been hiding your spare key although by the look of the building it may have soundproof walls or a least more soundproof than his were at his apartment.

He took the key and unlocked the door, stepping inside to see you in the kitchen with your hair in rollers, drinking a cup of tea with multiple outfits hanging up around the house.

“I take it you aren’t ready?” Spencer said.

“Good morning my love, nope almost just need to pick the airport outfit!”

“I like the second one,” He shrugged.

“Hm, I think I’ll go with the fourth.”

Spencer shook his head with a laugh, “Please don’t be long we don’t have much time.”

“Don’t stress it’s all cool,” you picked up the coat hanger that had a pair of black Victoria's Secret sweatpants, a white tank top and an off-the-shoulder sweater on, “Make a coffee, make yourself comfortable.”

Every minute that passed Spencer checked his watch getting more anxious until finally 15 minutes later you left your bedroom with a suitcase and 2 bags with your hair curled and your outfit on.

“I’m ready, let’s go,” you said grabbing your phone and walking over to the door.

——————

You and Spencer stood outside the hotel and spa, it looked fancy and definitely out of his price range, Spencer thought to himself.

“Ready for 2 days of fun boyfriend?” You smirked pulling your suitcase through the glass door of the hotel.

Spencer followed closely behind you holding one of your bags. He let you check in before you went to your room on the top floor.

“Woah this is huge!” you said looking at the hotel room’s super king-sized bed.

“It’s a nice hotel, how much did you pay for this?” Spencer asked leaving his suitcase next to the left side of the bed.

“I didn’t, my boss did. I’m pretty sure she booked out the whole hotel for the party.”

“So,” Spencer sat down on the bed after removing his shoes, “What exactly is the plan?”

“What plan?” you raised an eyebrow sitting down next to him and picking up the room service menu.

“Why am I here?” Spencer kept to the edge of his side of the bed.

“To be my plus one for the party tomorrow night, maybe you can show me around the city, dad said you’ve been here more than a few times for cases.”

“That’s it? You just wanted a plus one? There was no hidden meaning? I’m sure you could have found someone better looking on a dating website.”

“I like nerdy guys, plus you’re a fancy FBI agent,” you turned to look at him biting your lip before giggling, “I think we are going to have fun, wanna explore the hotel?”

“Maybe later, I want to stay here for a few minutes since I’m going to have to start using my social battery soon.”

“Okay suit yourself, I’m going to meet some of my friends I won’t be longer than an hour,” you said getting off the bed and heading out of the door.

Spencer sighed once he heard the door close, his head falling back against the headboard. He couldn’t deny the fact that he had a crush on you but he knew you were totally off-limits, you were Hotch’s daughter after all.

His head felt dizzy picturing the way you had looked at him while biting your lip even if it was jokingly it still made his head spin and his blood rush to his cock.

Spencer took it upon himself to take a cold shower, he needed one after the flight anyway so why not kill two birds with one stone?

You walked back into the room at the same time as Spencer opened the bathroom door with a towel wrapped just around his waist.

“Hello to you too, what a nice surprise,” you winked at him with a laugh.

“Shut up,” the man walked back into the bathroom closing the door, “I thought you were going to be an hour.”

“Got bored, assumed you’d want to go out or get something to eat maybe? Do you find if we swap rooms I need to pee.”

“Oh, oh sure,” Spencer opened the door again, “Food sounds good. Could you stay in the bathroom until I’m dressed?”

“Sure if it makes you more comfortable,” You smiled going into the bathroom.

“Thank you,” Spencer got dressed as he called into the bathroom, “I’m paying for our food, you can come out by the way.”

You opened the bathroom door, “You don’t have to Spence, my father gave me some money to spend here.”

“Use it to buy something nice, I want to pay for dinner,” Spencer smiled at you.

“Fine I’m not going to turn that down again,” you laughed and grabbed your purse.

——————

You and Spencer had lunch and stayed out exploring the city until 5 pm when you headed back to the hotel.

“Are you sure you’re okay ordering room service for dinner?” You asked Spencer for the 4th time since you had been walking back to the hotel.

“Yes I’m fine with it,” Spencer laughed and rolled his eyes pushing their room door open.

Just as he was about to close the door he heard a feminine voice calling ‘Wait’ Confused, he waited, by this point, you had gone into the bedroom.

“Oh!” The woman spoke, “I’m so sorry I thought this was my friend's room.”

“You’re a friend of Y/N?”

“Yes… and you are?”

“Spencer,” he smiled, “Y/N, someone is at the door for you.”

You groaned and came out of the bedroom with your sweater off, you looked extremely good in the white tank top you had been wearing under the sweater.

“Laura! Oh hey; Laura this is my boyfriend Spencer, Spencer this is my boss Laura.”

“Boyfriend?” Laura looked confused, “You have a boyfriend?”

“Yes…” points to Spencer, “Boyfriend.”

“Oh well, I guess you don’t need to come to the club with me and a couple of the others to find plus-ones then,” Laura laughed.

“Nope, no clubbing for me, Spence and I are going to have a movie night, order room service and have lots of cuddles,” you grinned.

“That’s cool have fun, I’ll see you tomorrow, or I’ll text you if I get lucky,” Laura winked before leaving the room.

You closed the door and Spencer eyed you curiously, “I wouldn’t have minded if you went out.”

“We have plans did you not hear?”

“You were being serious you want a movie night with me?” Spencer raised an eyebrow.

“And cuddles,” you smiled before returning to the bedroom, “Can you order room service while I take a shower?”

“Of course, What do you want?”

You hummed, “Carbonara, margarita pizza, red wine and chocolate brownie with ice cream. Oh and ask for bottled water.”

Spencer laughs, “I’m guessing this gets charged to your boss?”

“You guessed right, order what you want. I love her but I love spending money more,” You giggled going into the bathroom and turning the shower on.

You walked out of the bathroom in your towel, “Sorry I forgot to take my pyjamas through.”

Spencer cleared his throat, “It’s fine um room service will be 6 minutes and roughly 17 seconds.”

——————

The two sat in the living room area of the room eating their meals and sharing a few bites with each other.

You both went back to the bedroom to watch TV and just as you were about to climb into the bed you took off your dressing gown revealing your silky pyjamas which consisted of a low-cut tank top and short shorts.

Spencer’s face went a little red as he cleared his throat, “That's what you chose to bring?”

“Is there a problem with them?” You asked looking down at your clothes.

“No, no, no problem you look really um great,” he wanted to continue his ramble but you stopped him.

“You can tell me I’m hot baby,” the younger woman winked.

“Stop that, let’s just watch the movie,” Spencer spoke desperately.

“Fineeee,” you said dragging out the last letter as you switched the TV on.

At some point during the movie, you fell asleep on Spencer’s arm. Once he realised you were sleeping he switched off the movie and fell asleep beside you.

The next morning, you woke first with a groan, you smiled as you tilted your head up to see Spencer sleeping. He looked so perfect as he slept. You weren’t sure if having thoughts like that were sweet or creepy.

You pulled back the duvet to go to make some tea. By the time you came back, Spencer was starting to wake up.

“Sorry, I didn’t make you anything I didn’t know when you’d wake up,” you said getting back into bed.

“That’s fine, good morning,” He smiled trying not to move.

“Good morning, is everything okay?” your eyebrows knitted together in curiosity.

“Yeah I’m fine, just uh disorientated… give me a few minutes to wake up.”

“Man troubles?” you caught on and raised an eyebrow.

Spencer choked, “What?”

“Oh come on I wasn’t born yesterday Spence, I’ve had boyfriends. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

He covered his face with his hands, “It is embarrassing but it will go away. What time is it?” Spencer asked changing the subject.

“Only 7:30 but Dad will call at 8 to check on me,” you rolled your eyes,

“And then I’ll go back to sleep for a bit.”

“What time are you getting up?” Spencer said, he was used to getting up long before this time most mornings but it wouldn’t hurt if he had a lay-in for once. It wouldn’t usually be his thing but these beds were extremely comfortable.

“Before noon? The party starts at 5 pm so I’ll have more than enough time to get ready,” You placed the empty mug on the bedside table and waited for Aaron to call you in the meantime Spencer had fallen back to sleep.

—————

When you both woke up again, you had slept slightly past noon. Spencer had a few missed calls from the team, he instantly felt guilty that he wasn’t available to answer his phone if they needed help but it didn’t take long for you to convince him that it was his day off and he didn’t have to be on call all the time.

After a lot of stressing about curling your hair and making sure your make-up was perfect, you were almost ready. The last thing you had to do was put your dress on.

Spencer was waiting on the small sofa for you to finish getting ready. When you walked out of the bedroom in the long sparkly dark grey strapless dress his mouth almost fell open and his eyes were glued to you, his pupils dilated.

“I have some rules, well if you agree to them, we have to actually act like a couple… you know kissing and stuff and I want you to be yourself… earth to Spencer?” you waved your hand in his face when you realised he wasn’t actually listening to you and his eyes were locked on your body, “See something you like?” you laughed.

Spencer nodded his eyes still barely moving as if he was in a trance.

“Wanna take it off? I don’t mind being late,” you smirked.

Spencer snapped out of his thoughts at your words, “What? No, I can’t, you just look good, you look nice, um hot?”

“Thank you,” you tilted your head to the side with a smile, “So you’re fine with kissing?”

“Totally fine, I mean I haven’t kissed anyone in a long time, I might be bad. I really hope I’m not.”

“Spence, you’ll be fine.”

——————

You had no problem introducing Spencer as your boyfriend to your work colleagues making him wonder if you had done this before, what he wasn’t prepared for though was how highly you spoke of him and the sparkle in your eyes which to him would suggest that you really meant what you were saying. However, when you spotted Lilia Archer across the room you changed. It wasn’t that you seemed shy because you were anything but shy, but until Lilia spotted both you and Spencer it was like you was trying to hide.

You were the first to notice Lilia walking toward the both of you and your first instinct was to pull Spencer closer to you, your lips landed on him in what was meant to be a quick kiss to make Lilia feel at least a tad bit jealous but the kiss didn’t stop at a quick peck.

The two of you felt a spark run through you that neither of you could explain but you both didn’t want it to end.

Once the genius remembered that you were at a party with hundreds of people and not alone in your hotel room he removed his hand from the side of your face and pulled back from the kiss.

His hand fell beside him, catching your hand in his not long after, “That was interesting…”

“It was.”

“Did you mean it or was it because Lilia was coming?”

You shrugged, “A bit of both I wanted to make her jealous but I did mean it, I think you’re attractive and I know I'm not anywhere near as pretty or cool as Lilia Archer-“

“Stop talking like that. You’re perfect how you are, the only reason I didn’t do that first was that I thought for sure no one as confident as you would want someone… like me. And the other reason is Hotch, he is my boss.”

“Come on Spence you’re the most perfect gentleman I’m sure Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, would be more than happy if his daughter was dating his favourite boy genius.”

Spencer took a small step closer to you despite the lack of distance between you already. He cupped your cheeks lowering his head to give you another kiss.

“I know we’ve only been here for an hour but do you want to get out of here?” you said with a giggle.

“Lead the way.”

——————

The two of you couldn’t keep your hands or your lips off each other in the elevator to your floor or in the hallway toward your room.

Once the hotel door was closed you pushed Spencer up against it, kissing his lips passionately as you fiddled with his tie trying to get it off in a hurry.

You swiftly moved on to unbuttoning his shirt once the tie was off, your lips were still connected but now your tongues were invading each other’s mouths.

Separating from each other to take a couple of breaths, Spencer removed his shoes while you kicked your heeled shoes off removing a few more inches between yours and Spencer’s height.

“Bedroom?” you asked him, taking his hand in yours and intertwining your fingers together.

“I didn’t bring condoms with me, I didn’t plan for well this,” he said with a laugh.

“I always have some with me just in case,” you said as you entered the bedroom immediately finding one in your bag while Spencer removed his pants.

“At least you’re prepared, now come here I love that dress on you, you look beautiful but I want to take it off,” Spencer spoke with a rasped tone, his hands running up and down the curves of your waist and hips once you were standing in front of him.

“Take it off,” you whispered.

Spencer stood up from the bed spinning you around to find the zipper at the back of the dress, when he pulled it down he was met with your bare back meaning you had no bra on and only a lace g-string.

Spencer couldn’t help a quiet moan escaping his mouth when you turned back around showing him your exposed top half.

“You’re beautiful,” he said kissing your lips once again his hands finding your breasts.

A few moments later the both of them were fully undressed nothing left on their bodies.

“Can I put it on?” You asked holding up the condom packet.

“Please,” his voice was slightly strained he was so desperate to be inside of you, he didn’t know how much more he could take.

You ripped open the packet wasting no time before sliding the latex over his cock as a groan fell from his lips.

“Can I be on top?” you asked him.

“You want to ride me?”

“Yes, please?” you gave him a puppy dog-eyed gaze earning a nod from him.

“I’m not going to say no to that,” Spencer held your thighs as you positioned yourself in the right place before slipping his cock inside of you.

You moaned as he penetrated you further. Once fully inside of you, you took a deep breath.

“Am I hurting you?” Spencer asked worriedly.

“No! I just need a second,” you slowly began to move up and down your hands placed on his chest to maintain your balance.

Spencer moaned with each small movement, the warmth from your insides felt incredible wrapped around him, he fit perfectly inside of you.

“You’re doing so good,” you praised him as his hip started to jerk in a rhythm that matched your pace.

“I can’t last much longer, you feel so good,” Spencer moaned against your lips, when you leaned down to kiss him his cock angled even deeper instead of you.

You could barely open your eyes as you said, “I’m almost there.” The way you spoke triggered something in Spencer that made him remove one of his hands from your back and move it so his thumb would brush against your clit in circles.

With a few more sloppy thrusts caused by his hips that grazed your g-spot each time combined with him rubbing hard circles against your clit, the both of you came at the same time both with moans so loud anyone would be able to hear them through the walls.

You didn’t pull him out of yourself until you had fully gotten your breath back.

“Oh my god,” you sighed lifting off him and rolling into the space beside him, covering half of your body with the thin duvet.

“Good, oh my god? or bad?” Spencer asked pulling you close to him.

“Definitely good, so good,” You answered.

“Okay good because I agree, you were amazing,” Spencer pecked your lips softly.

“I hope you plan on being my plus one again,” you spoke quietly running your fingernails down his naked chest.

He pulled the duvet up to cover your body a little more, “I certainly plan on it.”

[sugarnspice630]

Baby It's Cold Outside

"Perhaps you can stay a little longer? Share one more drink with me?"

•pairing: yunho x fem!reader

•word count: 1k

•tags: MDNI, suggestive, jealous and possessive Yunho, reader is kinda stupid (sorry), alcohol consumption, drink spiking (DO NOT DO THIS????), ...did I miss anything? probably

Summary: Quite literally based off the controversy with the song "Baby It's Cold Outside", after spending a little too long with your date, Yunho, you try your best to go home. He seemingly does not want you to leave however.

A/N: I have a confession...one of my taboo kinks is to be drugged and taken advantage of, but you didn't hear that from me! For real though, please be careful with your drinks being spiked. Protect yourself and others while under the influence. Remember this is only fiction and to not be taken seriously or to give anyone any ideas. Please be sure to drop a like, reblog if you enjoyed it, and comment your favorite part! Happy reading!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆───

Your phone dinged with a notification. A message from your roommate, asking where you were. You previously told them you were going to meet up with this guy you matched with on Tinder. You had been chatting back and forth for a while, so you had some trust with him. It wasn’t a one-night stand or anything, just the first time meeting up. You glanced at the time on your phone after reading your roomie’s message and realized you had stayed way longer than you expected.

“Yunho, I’ve really enjoyed our time, but I do have to get going.”

“Mmm, can’t you just stay a little longer? The temperature is not the warmest right now.”

“Yeah, well, ‘tis the season for that. Plus, my roommate just messaged asking where I was.”

“You have someone else expecting you?” His voice was laced with a hint of jealousy. You scoffed at his comment softly.

“Relax, it’s just a roommate Yunho, plus, ‘they'” - you say with air quotes - "are a lady, so you can rest easy.” You use your hands and push yourself up off the couch you both are sitting on.

“I see. Well, I don’t want you to freeze out there.” Yunho stands up after you do and starts to get closer to you. His tall stature throws you off for the 100th time. You gaze up at him with your mouth parted slightly.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay. I dressed prepared for the weather.”

“I know, but doesn’t this warm fire feel so much nicer?” His hands trail up from your hips to your waist and rest there. The action sends a small chill up your spine.

“I-it does.” The remaining confidence you had slowly leaving you, softly submitting to staying with Yunho for the night. You stare at each other for a moment before you blink and shake your head and back away from him. “No, I need to leave.” You peek your head past his shoulder to look out the window near the front door. The snow is coming down quickly and heavily. Yunho follows your gaze and returns his attention back to you, a soft smirk on his face.

“I wouldn’t go out there if I were you. Perhaps you can stay a little longer? Share one more drink with me until the snow trucks go by?” His hands leave your hips and tenderly hold your hands. His sentences came across as questions, but you knew you really wouldn’t have much of a choice.

“Fine. I suppose one more won’t hurt.” You glance off to the side, disappointed with yourself that you could not stand your ground, but knowing he also had a point. If you left now, who knows what could happen to you out there with the snow coming down the way it is?

“Good~. I’ll go get the drinks. Just sit back down for me.” His eyes are full of tenderness and care. His hand invites you to sit back on the couch. There was no denying his charm and how your heart fluttered with him wanting you to stay longer. You sat back down, looking up at him, and he gave you an approving nod before heading to the kitchen to prepare the drinks. You pulled your phone back out and shot a message to your roomie. 

“You’re smiling a lot over there.” Yunho’s voice ringing through your ears, causing you to jump suddenly. He hands over the small glass he just poured for you.

“Oh, heh, yeah. My roommate is just being...perverted." You chuckle softly as you grab the drink from his hand, a slight blush coming across your face. He responds with a soft “hmm” and sits back down next to you.

The situation feels familiar. Being in this same position not that long ago. Drinks in your hands, chatting about frivolous things, sitting in the exact same spots. Like nothing has changed, besides the fact you are staying a few minutes longer than you intended. The night drags on; the snow keeps coming down. The sudden broadcast on the news advising people to stay inside and not go out due to dangerous conditions. Once that message finishes, the smirk on Yunho’s face grows even larger. You furrow your eyebrows towards him, thinking the alcohol was starting to take effect and making you see things.

“Yunho, it's been a pleasure, but I seriously need to go.” You set the cup down on the table in front of you and stand up. Feeling like all of the blood suddenly left your head, you start to fall forward. Yunho, quick on the draw, stands up and catches you.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy darling. Didn’t you hear the weather experts? It’s dangerous to go out there.” 

“I promised my roommate I’d be back.” Your words start to come out slurred, unintentionally. 

“Y/N I can’t allow you to go out there. Especially in this condition.” A concerned tone in his voice as he looks you over, holding you up and in place any time you try to move.

“Yunho…” Your sentence falls off as you look at him. Everything in the room except for him is spinning, and suddenly your vision becomes blurred. Your body starts to feel light and tingly. Am I about to pass out? You think to yourself. From what little is left you can see, Yunho’s eyes shift from concerned to dark and sinister. 

“I can’t allow you to leave Y/N.”

“Yunho…what did you…?” Next thing you know, he has you spun around, and you feel him grab your wrists and tug them together. Yunho leans in towards your neck and whispers in your ear.

“Perhaps I put a little something in your drink to help you stay longer.”

“Wha…” None of this making any sense due to your body practically shutting down at this point.

“Shh, shh, shh.” Yunho places his spare hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, and not too long after that, he feels your body go limp against him. The drink has taken full effect now. Yunho quietly sings to himself, in his deeper register...

 “Baby, it’s cold outside~.”

Tags: @pre1ttyies@isiloiale@moongoddess1982@xuchiya@myloveforyunho @ywtfvs @meowmeeps @tinyelfperson @httpseungmxn @acupoftaewithsomesuga @tiredlittlevirgo @no1likevie @arki-sha @yeosangsbbg @10nantscompanion @skzooluvr

[hyunnielix]

already over. | h.h

Series Masterlist

'kissing after a conversation

'bout how we'd probably be better off as friends'

— hyunjin x (f) reader

— word count: 3.9k (unedited - another long one!)

— genre: non-idol au, artist!hyunjin, second chance romance. dance coach!reader

— warning's: felix being a sweetheart, minho being a protective and jealous asshole, angst, fluff. Kissing! (smut in the next chapter...) they're so domestic together it makes me sick.

→ playlist on spotify

Unlike yesterday, today's schedule had been relentless. You'd finished teaching back-to-back classes and your muscles ached, your mind heavy with the kind of exhaustion that begged for sleep. Every step home felt like a victory, and all you wanted to do was collapse into bed and let the world melt away.

You couldn't allow yourself to entertain the thought of what had happened between you and Hyunjin. Each time your mind threatened to wander back to the moment you rested your head on his shoulder, you quickly shoved it aside, afraid of what it might mean, afraid of what it would unravel inside of you.

But as you opened the door to your apartment, it was clear your plans for a quiet evening weren't going to happen. The unmistakable sound of laughter and the clinking of bottles greeted you, along with the sight of Minho and Felix making themselves comfortable in the living room. Felix's bright smile was almost blinding, holding up a bottle of something that looked way too strong for a Tuesday night. Minho leaned back on the couch, swirling a glass of whiskey with casual confidence. You knew it already. He had no intention of letting you off the hook tonight.

“Finally! We were wondering when you'd get back.” Felix teased, his eyes lighting up as he gestured for you to join them.

“Come on, we’re celebrating,” Minho added, his tone lighter than usual but with an underlying firmness that left little room for argument. “You’ve been running yourself into the ground. Time to loosen up.”

You groaned, dropping your gym bag by the door and kicking off your shoes. “Celebrating what? My impending collapse from exhaustion?”

Felix snickered, patting the seat next to him. “Nope. Celebrating you. We figured you’d be too tired to object, so here we are. Sit. Drink. Relax.”

Minho poured a glass for you without waiting for your response, holding it out as if daring you to refuse. “If nothing else, think of it as a preemptive cure for your bad mood.”

You sighed, the weight of the day still pressing heavily on your shoulders, but their smiles were infectious. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of gratitude for their efforts to cheer you up. “Fine. But if I fall asleep halfway through, it’s on you two to take care of me.”

You reached for the glass Minho held and lifted it to your lips. The liquid smelt foul, you closed your eyes and downed it in one go.

Felix's deep laugh reverberated through the room as he poured himself another round. “Deal. Now, tell us how your day went before Minho starts lecturing about your lack of work-life balance.”

Minho smirked, raising his glass, the amber liquid swirling under the soft glow of the living room lamp. “It’s a lecture worth giving!” he quipped, his tone carrying that sharp edge of teasing that only he could pull off.

You groaned dramatically, rolling your eyes, but the corners of your lips tugged upward despite yourself. “You’re insufferable, you know that?” You gestured with your empty glass toward him.

He shot you a grin, leaning back against the armrest of the couch, his legs sprawled comfortably. “And yet, here you are, still listening.”

Shaking your head, you slid between Minho and Felix, who had nestled into the opposite corner of the couch with his own drink, the rim of the glass resting lazily against his bottom lip. As you sank into the plush cushions, the fabric cool against your skin, you let out a sigh.

As the evening unfolded, their lighthearted banter and relentless energy started to chip away at the exhaustion clinging to you. Even if you were tired, there was something undeniably comforting about having them here, making you forget, even if just for a little while.

The warmth of the whiskey barely began to settle in your chest when a sharp knock cut through the laughter. Your heart immediately jumped into your throat. You exchanged a glance with Felix, whose eyebrows shot up, and Minho, who frowned and set his glass down.

“I’ll get it,” you murmured, already rising from the couch. The weight of their eyes followed you to the door, and as you pulled it open, there he was. Hyunjin, in all his glory.

He stood in the dim hallway, his long coat damp at the hem from the evening drizzle, hair slightly tousled as though he’d been running his hands through it. In his arms was the canvas—the one he hadn’t finished when you left his studio yesterday. Your breath caught as his gaze locked onto yours, a storm of emotions swirling behind his dark eyes. His plush lips parted, as if he was enamoured in the same way you were.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice carrying both urgency and hesitation. “I finished it.”

You hesitated, the doorway suddenly feeling far too small. You could sense Felix and Minho’s curious gazes boring into your back. “Hyunjin, you didn’t have to—”

“I did,” Hyunjin interrupted gently. “It’s yours.” His long fingers gripped the edge of the wrapped canvas as he stretched his arms toward you, offering it like an unspoken apology, a fragile truce. The warmth in his eyes was almost unbearable, and your heart twisted in response.

The raw vulnerability in his tone broke through your defenses, and instead of taking it from him, you stepped aside to let him in. Before he could fully enter, Minho was on his feet, already bristling as he approached the door. You shot him a look.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve showing up here,” Minho growled, his posture tense.

Felix still sat on the couch, his head leant in his hands, already sensing the brewing storm. You winced at Minho's tone but didn’t get a chance to say anything before he advanced on Hyunjin.

Hyunjin straightened, his grip tightening on the canvas. “I didn’t come here to argue. I just wanted to give her this.”

Minho’s laugh was cold, biting. “Oh, let me guess. Another masterpiece of her? Did you paint her like a whore again? Do you want the whole word to see it this time? Plaster it up in a gallery?”

The words were a slap to the face. Minho's words were calculated and mean. Your breath hitched, and Felix immediately shot to his feet, his expression a mixture of shock and anger.

“Minho, what the hell?” Felix snapped, storming to the door and stepping between him and Hyunjin.

Your head spun, the alcohol clouding your thoughts, making it nearly impossible to grasp what the hell was happening.

Hyunjin’s jaw clenched, his knuckles white around the edges of the canvas. He kept his voice low and seething. “What gives you the right to talk about her like that?”

“Me?” Minho’s voice rose, his anger spilling over. “I’ve been here! Watching her tear herself apart over you! Over everything you left behind! Don’t act like you’re some saint for showing up now with another goddamn painting!”

“Stop it!” you shouted, stepping forward. “Both of you, stop!”

Minho wasn’t finished. He scoffed, his lips curling into a bitter sneer. “You think you can just waltz back into her life, throw some paint on a canvas, and fix everything? You're fucking pathetic."

Hyunjin’s eyes burned with fury, his usually calm demeanor shattering as he stepped closer to Minho, closing the distance between them. “Pathetic? Coming from you?” he shot back, his voice sharp as broken glass. “You’ve been sitting on your feelings, haven’t you? Watching her struggle while doing nothing but sulking in your jealousy.”

A sharp gasp escaped your lips. Your gaze darted to your roommate, seeking clarity in his reaction. Minho avoided your eyes entirely, his jaw tight, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. While Felix shifted awkwardly, his expression caught between discomfort and guilt, like he was carrying a secret that wasn’t his to tell. That was all the confirmation you needed. Minho... liked you?

“Jealousy? You’ve got some ego if you think this is about you. I’ve picked up the pieces while you were too busy playing tortured artist somewhere else.” Minho’s jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring.

Hyunjin took another step forward and his voice rose. “I left because I thought it was what she needed. But I’m here now, trying to make things right. What have you done besides use her pain to make yourself feel superior?”

Minho scoffed, his anger bubbling over. “At least I didn’t exploit her. What kind of person paints someone at their most vulnerable and calls it art?"

The room froze and Felix let out a sharp, “Minho, enough!” But it was too late. Hyunjin’s hand twitched at his side, his knuckles whitening as his restraint slipped.

Hyunjin snapped, his voice thundering, “You don’t get to talk about her like that.” His shoulders squared, pulling his body taut like a arrow ready to fire.

Minho stepped closer, chest to chest with Hyunjin now, his voice dripping with venom. “Or what? What are you going to do? Paint another masterpiece?” He spat the word like it was a slur.

Hyunjin’s expression darkened, and for a second, it looked like he might swing.

Felix rushed forward, wedging himself between the two of them with his arms outstretched. “Stop it! Both of you!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the room. “This isn’t helping anyone!”

“Get out of my way, Felix,” Minho growled, but Felix didn’t budge.

“Minho, listen to yourself,” Felix yelled, his tone cutting through the tension. “You’re not mad at him." He pointed to Hyunjin. "You’re mad because you’ve been hiding how you feel, and now it’s blowing up. You need to back off before you say something you’ll regret even more.”

Hyunjin with his chest heaving, pointed a finger at Minho. “You think you care about her? Then stop using her to fuel your self-righteous anger and actually support her.”

“Support her? What like you have?” Minho shot back, but his voice wavered, the heat behind his words faltering.

“Enough!” you finally announced, coming to your senses and stepping between them. Your voice cracked with frustration, your hands trembling as you glanced between the two men. “Both of you—just stop. Please.”

The room fell silent except for the sound of heavy breathing. Minho turned his gaze to you, guilt flickering in his eyes, while Hyunjin’s face softened, his anger melting into something else entirely—remorse.

Felix sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “We’re done here,” he muttered, his tone exhausted. He shot a pointed look at Minho. “You need to cool off. Now.”

Minho hesitated, his jaw clenching before he stormed into his room, the door slamming behind him. Lifting a hand to your temples, you rubbed them in small circles, trying to ease the dull ache forming behind your eyes.

Turning to Felix, you caught his gaze. He hesitated, reading the unspoken request in your expression, and then gave you a small, resolute nod. Without a word, he followed after Minho, his footsteps fading as he disappeared into his room.

Hyunjin's gaze settled on you, his voice quiet but steady. “I’m sorry. For all of this.”

You couldn't stand it any longer. The suffocating weight of the argument, the tension, and the silence that followed made your heart race in a way that didn't feel right. Minho’s words echoed in your mind, but they weren’t the ones you wanted to hear. You needed Hyunjin to know that this wasn’t about what Minho said or how angry he got. It was about what you felt and what you still feel.

You swallowed hard, your heart aching as you reached out and touched his hand lightly. “Let’s talk somewhere else,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Hyunjin nodded, his shoulders slumping as he followed you to the front door, the canvas tucked beneath his arm.

The walk to his apartment felt like hours. A faint hum of distant cars filled the quiet spaces between your steps. You and Hyunjin walked side by side, the tension between you like a thread stretched taut, fragile and trembling. Your hands brushed briefly, an unintentional spark that sent a shiver through you, but neither of you made the move to hold on. A weird middle ground. Neither love nor hate.

Hyunjin broke the silence first, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Did you know? That Minho had feelings for you?” He didn’t look at you as he spoke, his gaze fixed on the pavement ahead. “It was obvious as ever to me.”

Your breath hitched, and you turned to him, searching his face for any hint of humor or misunderstanding. But he wasn’t joking—his expression was serious, tinged with something deeper, something that tugged at your chest.

“Even when we were together,” he added, even quieter now. His words were tinged with a bitterness that felt out of place for him. Heavy and undeniable.

You stopped walking, forcing him to pause as well, and turned to face him fully. “Hyune…” you began, but the words felt stuck in your throat. Did you know? Maybe. Subconsciously. But to hear it like this, now, from him, it made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t quite place.

You hesitated before asking, tugging your coat tighter. “Is that another reason you left?”

The air bit into your cheeks, cold and unwavering. You recognised he wore his heart on his sleeve, but it felt as though the wrong response could shatter what little balance remained between you. He continued walking.

Hyunjin exhaled heavily, his breath forming a mist in the crisp evening air. The dim glow of the streetlights cast long shadows on the path ahead, their golden hues flickering as the breeze whispered through the trees. His hands were tucked deep into his coat pockets, and his steps slowed, matching the hesitance in his voice. He halted, then turned to face you.

“I thought you deserved better than me,” he admitted, his words laced with quiet regret. “I knew it was just my own insecurities, but… I couldn’t shake it. Minho—he was always steady, always knew how to make you laugh, how to be there for you. And me? I was this mess, trying to juggle my art and ambitions, feeling like I’d never measure up.”

You caught the way his jaw tightened as he spoke. He looked at the ground as though the words themselves were a weight he’d been carrying for too long. You wanted to reach out to him, wrap your arms around his torso and breath him in—the faint scent of strawberries and mint.

"I think I—," He cleared his throat, tapping his shoe against the slick pavement. "Well, I sort of hoped you two would get together so I could prove a point to myself that I was right."

His confession struck you. Gooseflesh peppered your skin and an uncomfortable feeling crawled its way up your throat. How could he think that? even for a second? He began walking once more, and you followed in tow.

The path curved gently ahead, lined with bare trees that reached for the night sky. An occasional car passed by on the road nearby, headlights cutting through the darkness. The rhythmic crunch of gravel underfoot was the only sound for a moment as his words settled between you.

“You could’ve talked to me,” you murmured, your voice steady but tinged with sadness. “I would’ve listened, Hyune. I would’ve understood.”

He stopped walking and turned to you, his eyes searching yours, glistening under the soft glow of a nearby streetlamp. “I was scared, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “Scared you’d see me the way I saw myself. Scared you’d realize you were better off without me before I was ready to let you go.”

Your chest tightened, and you blinked away the sting of tears, your gaze dropping to the ground. “You didn’t even give me the chance to decide that for myself,” you whispered, clenching your fists by your side.

Hyunjin reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm as though he was testing if he still had permission to touch you. His touch was warm despite the cold, and you looked up at him again, finding a raw honesty in his expression that you hadn’t seen in a long time.

The two of you stood there, caught in the quiet chaos of your unresolved emotions. Hyunjin gave you a small, tentative smile, his hand lingering. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

He hooked his pinky with yours and you almost breathed a sigh of relief at his touch. Your heart ached at his words, and without thinking, you reached up to brush a strand of onyx hair from his face, your fingers lingering longer than necessary. The air between you felt electric, charged with all the things left unsaid, all the years apart, and the unspoken truth that no matter what, something between you felt alive.

"I like your black hair," you admitted, your voice softer than usual. You couldn't help but admire how it framed his face, though you didn’t want to admit just how striking it made him look. The slit in his eyebrow only added to the allure of his features, making him even more captivating in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

He blinked at you, his hand instinctively running through his hair as if he hadn’t expected the compliment. "Thanks," he breathed out, a slight flush creeping up his neck. His eyes darted down for a moment, clearly a little thrown off by your comment.

You quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, hoping he wouldn't notice and continued strolling along the path. The streetlights reflected the water of the night's earlier drizzle.

His gaze followed you, and a small, shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “It suits me?” he asked, almost as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

You glanced back at him. "Yeah, it suits you well," you muttered, though the words felt strange on your tongue, too soft for the tension which hung between you two.

His apartment building radiated a sense of chic-ness, white marble and trimmed hedges lined the entrance. A lot different from how you remembered it. Although, the familiar creak of stairs echoed in the otherwise quiet hallway.

As you both reached the entrance to his apartment building, the weight of the silence between you felt heavier, more pressing, though neither of you seemed eager to break it. The dim light from the hallway cast long shadows on the walls, and with each step up, the sound of your footsteps reverberated, filling the space.

Hyunjin walked just a few steps ahead, his fingers still gripping the canvas tightly. You couldn’t help but notice how his grip tightened every time you drew closer, like he was holding onto something precious, something fragile— like how it would've been if he held onto you.

You followed him, your mind swimming with thoughts—of the evening, of everything that happened, and the words left unsaid. You could feel the heat of his presence just ahead of you as you both approached the door to his apartment.

He reached the door first, hesitating for a brief moment as if contemplating whether to say something. But when he turned to face you, his expression softened.

"Come in," he murmured, stepping aside to let you in. His voice was quiet but welcoming, as though he was offering you the space to breathe, to feel safe again.

You stepped over the threshold, the door creaking slightly as he pushed it open. As you entered, you immediately noticed the change in the atmosphere—his apartment, though familiar, felt different now, more intimate, more charged. The slight hum of an old refrigerator in the corner filled the silence that followed you both into the room.

Hyunjin carefully set the canvas down on the nearby dining table, his fingers brushing lightly over the edges as if it was something delicate, something important.

Without a word, he turned to you, his eyes searching your face, waiting for you to speak, to fill the void left by the quiet. You couldn't even spare a glance at the canvas, too intertwined with your own thoughts and feelings.

Hyunjin’s apartment felt suffocating and intimate all at once. The scent of paint and faint traces of lavender lingered in the air, grounding you in a place that once was distant but now felt overwhelmingly close.

You stood in the middle of the room, your arms loosely wrapped around yourself like a fragile shield. Behind you, the canvas he’d brought sat on the table, the strokes of his art silently judging. Across the room, Hyunjin leaned lightly against the dining table, his knuckles brushing its edge as though grounding himself. His dark eyes never left you, and their intensity made your stomach churn with nerves.

“What are we doing, Hyune?” Your voice cracked, barely more than a whisper, the words trembling with the confusion and vulnerability you couldn't keep bottled inside. Your lips quivered, tugging downward as the tears you fought threatened to spill.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” you admitted, your voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know how to be with you again.” The truth of your words hung in the air, raw and echoing in the quiet room.

Hyunjin moved toward you with careful steps, closing the distance with a deliberate tenderness that made your breath catch. He stopped just short of touching you, his presence overwhelming and his gaze heavy.

“I don’t know how to make this easy,” he admitted, his voice low and steady, tinged with vulnerability. “But I know I don’t want to keep pretending I’m fine without you.”

His hand lifted, hesitating for a moment before cupping your face gently, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, your body betraying the turmoil in your heart.

“You don’t have to know right now,” he murmured, his eyes searching yours, pleading for understanding. “I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait as long as it takes. I just… I need you to know that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

The words cracked something open inside you, and a tear slipped free, trailing down your cheek. He caught it with his thumb, his touch so tender it made your knees weak.

Your hand instinctively came up to his, holding it against your cheek. “You make it sound so easy, Hyune,” you said, your voice trembling.

“It’s not,” he confessed, his forehead coming to rest against yours. His breath mingled with yours, warm and steady, grounding you in the moment. “But it’s worth it. You’re worth it. Always have been.”

The room seemed to shrink around you, the walls closing in, but not in a way that suffocated. Instead, it felt like the world was forcing you together, creating a space where nothing else mattered.

Without thinking, you leaned into him, your lips brushing his in the softest of kisses. It wasn’t rushed or desperate but slow, filled with the kind of longing that had been buried for far too long.

His arms slid around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, pouring everything he couldn’t say into it. The table, the paint, the world beyond the apartment—all of it melted away. There was only Hyunjin, holding you as if letting go wasn’t an option.

[Tag List] @nujeskz @myfavoritedelusion

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

A Christmas Gift | G.W.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

feat. George Weasley x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You go to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes to pick out a Christmas gift for your ailing little brother, who adored the shop (and the twins) before he became too ill to go. You find a gift and so much more than you ever dreamed of.

CW: this is really emotional, i’m sorry, but i pinky promise that it has a happyish ending. fred is dead, grief, hurt/comfort, hospital visits, sick sibling/children, some swearing, but also some fun and lightheartedness, plenty of christmasy fluff, first kisses

AN: last Christmas fic of the season!

The early morning snow buffeted at your back as you stepped into Weasely Wizard Wheezes. The store had just opened, you saw someone turn the sign as you finished your breakfast at the Three Broomsticks, but you wanted to beat the holiday rush so you could really take your time.

The smell of cinnamon and woodsmoke, plastic toys and what could only be described as joy, welcomed you inside. An enormous Christmas tree hung upside down from the ceiling, decorated in orange, purple, and gold, with handmade ornaments over every branch and popcorn strings strewn around it. Every shelf was stocked and festively decorated, and soft Christmas music played from the speakers.

You stopped in the doorway, tears welling in your eyes. Your brother would love this. You had hoped that he’d be having a good day today, that maybe, by some miracle, he’d be well enough to come with you. But he’d spiked a fever late last night, and was going in for some imaging today to ensure he hadn’t caught pneumonia…again.

“Morning,” a voice called to you, and you looked up, hastily wiping tears on your sleeve. George Weasley, a man you’d never met but would recognize anywhere, was halfway down the spiral staircase, a cup of coffee in hand. He was dressed in the iconic pinstripe suit, his copper hair a little longer than the last time you’d seen him two years prior, not that he’d remember.

The only reason you remembered was because of your brothers obsession with the Weasley twins. He’d asked to have his hair cut and dyed orange that same afternoon.

More tears welled up, and you cursed yourself, turning away to hide your face. “I’m sorry,” you sniffled, trying to take a deep breath. “I promise I’m not insane.”

You heard him move the rest of the way down the stairs, then approach you, his tall frame taking him across the store in a few strides. He had a bright purple handkerchief in his hand, the triple W embroidered on the corner.

“That’s okay, we like a little insanity around here. What’s your name?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Y/n.” You accepted the handkerchief with a watery smile and dabbed your eyes.

“George. Are you alright, y/n?” he asked.

You sighed, twisting the fabric in your hands. “The holiday’s are just hard.”

He nodded, his jaw flexing, eyes averting from your face to the floor. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher than it had been a moment before. You noticed then the dark circles under his eyes, the air of heaviness around his shoulders. “Can I help you find something?” he asked, pivoting quickly.

“Yes, actually. I’m, uh, looking for a gift for my little brother. But he—it has to be something he can play with in bed. Nothing too loud or messy.” Your heart ached as you said it, knowing he would actually love something loud, messy, destructive, as little boys do, but such things weren’t allowed at St. Mungo’s.

George raised an eyebrow. “Strict parents?”

You shook your head, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “He’s in hospital,” you murmured, hating saying the words aloud.

George’s face fell. “Oh—Merlin, I’m really sorry.”

A flicker of understanding passed between you, your broken hearts beating at the same rhythm for a moment. You knew about the death of his twin, Fred, everyone did, and now he knew your pain as well. That knowledge weaved an invisible string of connection between you, forged in empathy.

“We can absolutely find something for him,” George said, his voice painfully sincere. He offered you his arm and you accepted, needing a bit of steadiness. “What kind of things does he like?”

You started to walk through the store, looking around the towering shelves, at a bit of a loss. “Well, he loves Whizz-bangs, and your Pyrotechtrix.”

George smiled, chuckling to himself. “Fun, but not exactly suitable for a hospital.”

“Exactly. But honestly, anything you recommended, he’d absolutely adore, so long as I told him you recommended it.”

“Oh yeah?” George raised an eyebrow, glancing down at you.

Saints, he’s handsome.

“Yeah, he’s a big fan. He used to beg us to stop in every time we came to Diagon Alley so he could watch your demonstrations.”

George’s smile widened, a flush creeping up his neck. “Well, ah, that’s really—” he scratched the back of his head, clearly flustered by the revelation. “That’s very kind,” he managed with a breathy chuckle.

The door jingled as another customer came in and you tensed, George’s eye flicking towards the new customer, then back down to you.

You moved to slip your arm from his. “I can look around, you go ahead—”

“Oi, Ron!” George shouted, a hand cupped around his mouth, his arm tightening around yours so you stayed put.

“What? I’m sorting inventory!” Ron Weasley shouted back, appearing from the back of the store with arms full of boxes. His eyes quickly scanned over you, your joined arms, then back to George, who was nodding his head towards the door. “Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” Ron turned greeted the customer, dropping the boxes where he stood.

You chuckled, leaning a bit closer to George, grateful that he didn’t abandon you.

“You’re my first priority today,” he murmured to you, close enough that you could smell his amber cologne, and you felt your anxiety unspool for the first time in weeks. For this one thing, this small, Christmas gift hunt, you weren’t alone.

You spent the rest of the morning with George, wandering through aisle after aisle as he talked you through every product you showed an interest in. At first, he seemed reluctant to talk about products with stories tied to Fred, like prodding a sore wound, but eventually he was telling story after story, grinning and laughing at the memories of their countless antics.

He encouraged you to share about your brother as well, and by the end, you were both in stitches from laughing, cheeks sore and eyes watery with tears. It warmed your heart to see him light up at the his brother’s memory, to see the love between them still very much burning, and soothed a bit of your fear.

No matter what happened, the love and the memories would remain.

You finally settled on an Aviatomobile and a few muggle magic tricks, nothing explosive, sticky, or illness-causing. George carried the items to the counter, setting them gently on surface, but hesitated when he reached for the register.

He turned, grabbing a gift box from beneath the counter. Carefully, he wrapped each item in branded tissue paper and nestled them into the box, then rearranged them once, then twice, before finally placing the lid and tying an orange bow around it. Then, he grabbed one of the paper ornaments from the counter, where kids could write little messages or drawings to hang on the gravity-defying Christmas tree, and scribbled something on it before securing it to the bow.

“There we go,” he said, pushing it towards you with a sheepish smile.

You reached for you wallet. “How much do I—”

He shook his head, waving you off. “It’s on me. Least I can do for an avid supporter.”

Tears burned behind your eyes again, caught off guard by his generosity. “George, I can’t—”

“Please, just—let me do this for your brother.” George’s eyes held yours, soft around the corners. “It’s what Fred would do.”

You nodded, unable to speak through the lump in your throat.

“Would you want to, uh, maybe get a drink later? Or coffee?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck, freckled cheeks flushing pink.

You smiled, your heart flipping in your chest. “I’d love to. We could get ice cream at Fortescue's?” You offered.

He smiled back. “Perfect. 7 o’clock?”

“Perfect,” you repeated, fighting a nervous giggle. “I’ll see you later, then.” You hefted the box in your arms and waved goodbye, hurrying out before you said anything embarrassing, or melted into a puddle of goo on the floor.

Halfway down the street, you finally glanced at the paper ornament George attached to the gift.

Sorry, mate. No explosive’s. Sister’s orders. But I’ve got a stash in the back waiting for you when you’re ready. Merry Christmas. - GW

You were fizzing with excitement as you approached the ice cream shop, a soft flurry of snowflakes dancing int the twinkle lights strew across Diagon Alley. Vendors were at every corner, selling steaming beverages, candied nuts, and fried dough. Shoppers wandered from glowing door to glowing door, bundled in thick coats and arms laden with bags. A choir sang Christmas carols on the steps of Gringotts, toads wearing Santa hats cradled in their arms, and you paused to listen while they sang “Carol of the Bells”, trying to collect your scattered mind.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about George for a moment, so wound up that you started getting ready three hours early for a simple ice cream date. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so giddy, so hopeful.

“I like this song,” a familiar voice murmured in your ear and you looked up, finding George standing beside you watching the carolers, the lights reflecting in his brown eyes. He was dressed in a brown wool coat with a Gryffindor scarf around his neck, a white, cable knit sweater and jeans underneath, patches on the knees.

“Me too,” you replied, biting your lips to stop the grin threatening to rise. “How was your day?”

“Chaos. I left Ron to deal with the stragglers. We were supposed to close around six…” he trailed off, his eyes catching on a group of wizards. You followed his eye, and were appalled to find them muttering and pointing at him. And when you looked around, you noticed several groups were doing the same.

Instinctively, you moved closer to him, as if you could shield him somehow.

His fingers twined with yours, warm and calloused. “It’s alright,” he said, turning you to face him. “M’used to it.”

“It’s not alright,” you said, raising your voice and directing a pointed glare at the noisy folks. “It’s rude!”

He chuckled, tugging you away from the carolers. “Easy, love. It doesn’t bother me much anymore. Don’t give them any of your attention.”

You sighed, falling into step beside him, hands still clasped together. “I’m sorry they treat you like that,” you said, glaring daggers at anyone that even glanced in his direction while you walked towards Fortescue's.

“It was worse when we first reopened the shop.” His thumb swiped back and forth across yours, soothing the irritation itching under your skin. “They would come in just to get a look at me. Like my grief was some kind of spectator sport.”

“I can’t imagine having that kind of loss broadcast to the entire world,” you said, glancing at a newspaper stand plastered in the Daily Prophet.

“It’s inhumane,” he replied, stopping in front of the ice cream shop. “But, I’m grateful for it too.”

You raised an eyebrow, facing him in the warm glow of the window.

“Everyone knows how amazing he was,” he murmured, his voice thickening with emotion. He looked down at your joined hands, playing with your fingers. “He’s a hero.”

You squeezed his hand, prompting him to look up at you. “So are you, George," you said, inflecting as much sincerity as you could into your voice. "Y’know, I was there that day, when you and Fred left Hogwarts?”

His eyes widened. “You were?”

You nodded. “I was two years under you, we wouldn’t have crossed paths,” you said, trying to assuage the needless guilt that crossed his face. “But I’ll never forget that moment, watching you guys reclaim the magic that makes Hogwarts, well, Hogwarts. You inspired all of us left behind.”

He gave you a sad smile, his eyes shiny with unshed tears, and brought your knuckles to his lips, brushing a kiss across them. “Thank you for telling me that,” he whispered. “You didn’t get burned, did you?” He asked, worry suddenly creasing his brow.

You giggled. “No, no. No one was hurt besides Umbridge's ego.”

He exhaled, flashing a relieved smile. “Okay, good. Because that would have been a terrible first impression.” He opened the door to the ice cream shop, gesturing for you to step inside.

“My first impression was when you turned Ms. Norris purple during the Halloween feast,” you said, stepping past him and into line, the smell of waffle cones and caramel wafting over you.

George barked a laugh, his head falling back with the force of it, and you smiled. “Better, I suppose.”

“It’s not like I made a great first impression on you, weeping like a sap as soon as I stepped into your store,” you joked, too busy gazing up at his smiling face to notice the line move forward without you.

He shook his head, still chuckling. “No, it was a perfect first impression.”

You ordered your bowls of ice cream, Peppermint Marshmallow Mayhem for George and Gingerbread Dreams for you, and sat at a corner booth by the window, talking about nothing in particular for awhile while you ate.

“So, how’s your brother doing today? You mentioned he had some imaging this afternoon?” George asked, genuine concern creasing his brow.

“He’s doing well, actually. No pneumonia, by Godric’s grace, and his fever broke this afternoon. Still not sure what caused it, but hopefully nothing of concern,” you answered, you heart lifting at his relieved smile.

“Good, I’m really glad to hear that. Now, let me try your ice cream.” He waggled his spoon and you laughed, sliding it towards him. He took the tiniest spoonful, flipping it over to lick it off, and your cheeks warmed at the way his tongue caressed the curve of the spoon.

You knew you were caught when he smirked around the utensil, but he let it slide.

“Here, try mine.” He dug a spoonful out of his bowl, holding it out for you to take a bite with a borderline sinful look in his eye.

“George Weasley,” you teased, shaking your head. “You are such a flirt.”

“Can you blame me? I’m sitting across from my dream woman,” he replied, grinning.

Now your cheeks were really warming, and you leaned forward to take a small bite off the edge of his spoon. Sugary peppermint and creamy marshmallow coated your tongue, and you moaned.

“Good?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Delicious,” you giggled, watching as he ate the rest of the spoonful, and wondered how it would taste on his tongue.

After ice cream, you continued wandering around Diagon Alley, peeking in all the shop windows and sipping warm butter beer, until your noses were pink from the chill, your hair full of glittering snow.

You stopped outside of his shop, the sign flipped to ‘closed’ and only a few lights on inside along with the exterior holiday decor, presumably left on for George.

“I have a confession to make,” he said, stepping a little closer to you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a thrill of excitement pulsing through you. “What?” You asked, picking invisible lint of his lapel just to have something to do with your hands.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I saw you watching the carolers,” he murmured, sliding his glove off and reaching out to cradle your face, his touch gentle, giving you every opportunity to pull away.

You leaned your head into his large palm, gazing up at him, freckled, flushed, and starry-eyed. You’d never seen someone look at you with adoration before, and it made your soul sing.

Instead of saying anything, you rose onto your toes and pressed your lips to his, a quick, airy peck. But when you went to move back, his hand held you in place, lips just barely touching.

“Again,” he breathed, his other hand coming around to rest on your lower back. “Please?”

You gave the tiniest nod, feeling like your heart might burst out of your chest, and his lips connected with yours again in a slow, languid kiss, the taste of ice cream and butter beer and him making your head go a little fuzzy, your right foot popping up behind you as you leaned into his embrace.

His tongue caressed the seam of your mouth, but he didn’t push further, just a small tease before winding the kiss down until it ended the way it started, with a few barely-there pecks in reluctant departure.

You sighed against him, lowering back onto flat feet, and he smiled, drawing you into his chest for hug. You slipped you arms under his coat, feeling the softness of his sweater and the warmth of his body envelop you.

“Thank you for this,” you murmured. “I really, really needed it.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tight around your body. “So did I. Can we do it again tomorrow? Breakfast? Sunrise picnic?”

You chuckled, tilting your chin up to rest on his sternum. “Breakfast sounds great.”

George beamed, dropping a warm kiss to the frozen tip of your nose. “I’ll pick you up at nine?”

“It’s a date.” You stole one last kiss before slipping away, practically skipping.

You and George saw each other every day for the next week, whether it was to wander around Diagon Alley, looking at the lights and festivities, or grabbing a quick cup of tea between busy shifts. Neither of you could stand being apart for more than a few hours at a time.

Tonight, George invited you to his flat for dinner and muggle Christmas films, and you were dressed in the ugliest Christmas sweater you could find. With a timid hand, you knocked on his door.

It opened under you fist, revealing George on the other side, wearing a maroon sweater with a giant ‘G’ on the front of it and a sauce splattered apron.

“Hey, love.” He tugged you inside, pressing an eager kiss to your lips before ushering you down the hall, his deft fingers unraveling your scarf from your neck and peeling the coat from your shoulders. You laughed at his haste, spinning and hopping as he removed your boots. He stopped only when he finally saw your sweater. “Oh, darling. You look ravishing.” His hands fell to your waist and he pulled you into his chest, a mischievous grin on his face. “Very fashion forward.”

“Thank you, baby,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. You hadn’t called him that before, but it just rolled right off your tongue, natural as breathing.

He loosed a pleased hum, leaning forward to capture your lips in another, slower kiss. “Like hearin’ you call me baby,” he mumbled against your mouth.

The oven beeped loudly, startling you both.

“Hungry?” He asked with a shy smile.

“Starved.”

He showed you to the dining room, a round table with a vase of flowers at the center, candles strewn on every surface. He pulled a chair out for you and you sat, accepting a kiss on the cheek before he dashed back into the kitchen.

You looked around, having been too caught up in his frantic greeting to take in the space. The rest of the flat was sparsely decorated, purely functional, besides a sagging bookshelf in the living room, and a few photos along the hallway. Not a Christmas decoration was in sight.

George returned with two glasses of wine, the bottle tucked under his arm. “Here we go, a little Pinot Noir for my gorgeous girl.” He set the glasses down then finally sat down in his chair.

“Thank you, baby,” you teased, and he smirked, withdrawing his wand from his apron and waving it towards the kitchen. A moment later, a giant bowl full of pasta, a basket of bread, a salad bowl, and two plates came hovering out of the kitchen, arranging themselves neatly on the table.

“Bon appetite.” He raised his wine glass, a shy little smile on his face, and you raised yours to cheers, so charmed you could cry.

Two hours later, you were curled up on George’s couch, half enjoying Home Alone, half enjoying the feel of each other’s skin under your sweaters, the rich taste of wine on each other’s tongues.

“How come you haven't decorated for Christmas?” You mumbled between languid pecks, his soft lips moving to trail over your jaw.

“Didn't much feel like celebrating this year,” he replied, kissing down your neck, his tongue tracing your pulse.

“And yet here we are, watching corny holiday films,” you chuckled and felt him smile against your neck.

“Things changed.” He lifted his head, capturing your lips in a heavy, open-mouthed kiss that made your blood warm, your heart beat a little quicker in your chest.

Suddenly, something slammed against the window, a frantic scrabbling against glass that had George springing up like something electrocuted him.

“Errol?” George moved toward the window. “No, what the fuck—”

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?!” You cried, jumping up and throwing open the window. Your family owl flew in, landing on the back of the couch. Fear pumped through you and you snatched the letter from his beak, rougher than the poor bird deserved in your panic.

“What is it?” George rested his hands on your hips as you tore it open.

The words on the card made your heart stop.

Mungo’s now, Mum

“George,” you whimpered, sagging against him as terror rocked through you.

He took the letter from your hand and skimmed it. “Go get your coat on, I’ll take you.”

“I—” You were frozen, darkness pulsing at the edges of your vision.

His hands came up to hold your face, shaking you gently. “Honey, we have to go. I’m going to be right here with you, okay? We’re going together. But we have to move now.”

You nodded, clawing through the sludge of fear and clinging to the thread of stability he offered. He helped you into your coat and shooed the owl out, not even bothering to lock up before he was ushering you into his chest.

“Hold onto me,” he ordered, and you did, and suddenly the world was sucked away, a dizzying, horrible tornado of space, and then it spit you back out on the front steps of St. Mungo’s.

“Holy shit,” you gagged, clutching onto George and he held you upright.

“Sorry, love. Never apparated before?” He asked, rubbing your back.

You shook your head.

“Y/n!”

George stiffened, his hands tightening on you, and you looked up.

“Mum!” You cried, rushing to her.

“Oh, hun. I’m sorry to frighten you, he’s okay. Just a scare. I’m so sorry, darling,” she cried, clinging to you.

“Sh, no, it’s alright. I should be here,” you soothed, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. “What happened?”

“He couldn’t breathe, his lungs—pneumonia again,” your mom hiccuped, wiping at her cheeks. “Who’s that?” She asked, looking over your shoulder.

George was were you had left him, hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes bouncing from you and your mom to the strangers mingling on the sidewalk. You could tell his hackles were raised, some protective instinct roused when he’d been startled by the owl.

You waved him over. “Mum, this is George Weasley. George, this is my mum.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” George said, offering her a hand and a shy smile.

She clutched his hand hard and you both winced. “I-you-Weasley—The George Weasley?” She gasped.

“Just George is fine,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“Oh my, I just can't believe—”

“Mum, can we go see him now?” You interrupted, anxious to see that he was well yourself. “I promise you'll have a proper introduction later.”

“Yes, of course. This way.” She released George and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the hospital.

George hesitated, until you reached your hand out to him. He immediately threaded your fingers together, falling into step with your frantic mother.

A few moments later, you rushed into your brother's room, finding him upright and smiling, some new tubes in his little nose, but all together looking well.

“Mum, I said to leave her alone!” He argued, crossing his arms over his reindeer pj's.

“Hush you,” you scolded lightly, wrapping him up in a hug and kissing his forehead, noting his lingering fever. “How are you feeling, darling?” You asked, pulling back to hold his face.

“M'okay. They let me have some ice lollies earlier!” He chirped, sticking out his neon blue tongue.

You grinned. “I see, that's excellent.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but then you saw his eyes widen, mouth falling open in shock. You turned to see what he was looking at and realized it was George, who was loitering in the doorway.

“Is that—” your brother started, and George looked up. “Wizard—Wizard Wheezes!”

George’s solemn expression shattered into a wide smile as he stepped into the room, his energy shifting instantly. “Hello, mate! I’m George. Heard your not feeling so good?” George reached out to shake his little hand, and he took it, his fingers dwarfed by George's palm.

“No, no. I'm fine!” Your brother replied, shock melting into excitement. “What are you doing here?”

George glanced down at you. “Your sister has been telling me all about you, and how strong you've been lately,” he said, crouching down beside the bed. “She loves you a lot, y’know?”

You stepped out of the way, tears starting to burn behind your eyes. Your mother slipped her hand into yours, watching the interaction with a hand pressed to her mouth.

“I know, but she worries too much,” your brother answered, and George burst out laughing.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

“I’m big like you, I don't need protecting!” He argued.

George nodded, pressing a hand to his chest apologetically. “I can tell. But that doesn't mean they don't want to try anyways. And big guys like us have to protect them in return, yeah?”

Your brother nodded, puffing up his chest. “I'll never let anything happen to my sister. I promise!”

You blew him a kiss, and George gave him a high five.

“That's my buddy. Now, let's see if I've got anything special for heroes like you.” George fished around in his pocket, making dramatic faces while he rummaged in what you thought was an empty pocket.

But then he withdrew what appeared to be a toy airplane that would in no way, shape, or form fit in that pocket without magic. Your brothers face lit up when George threw it in the air and it started to fly, ducking and whizzing around the room.

“Hm, that wasn't what I was looking for,” George said with a dramatic frown, and you giggled. He glanced over his shoulder at you, breaking his frown to smirk at your reaction, and started fishing around in his pockets again.

He pulled out a bouncing ball, then a rubber chicken, a set of chattering teeth, a stuffed teddy bear. Item after item came out of his pockets until your brothers bed was covered in toys and gag items, and a dozen nurses were watching in amazement from the hallway. You and your mom were fighting through silent tears, your heart so big you felt it might explode out of your chest.

Most importantly, your brother was ecstatic, playing with this and that and chattering away at George about the different products and teaching him how to do magic tricks George himself had invented.

But half an hour later, your brother’s nurse came in to administer some of his medication and get him ready for bed. He tried to protest, but his new best friend, George, managed to talk him into not only compliance, but eager acceptance of his medicine.

You stole George away into the now quiet hall, Christmas lights illuminating the dark corridor, and threw your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck, needing to feel him close, to ground you through the onslaught of emotions.

He wrapped his arms around you, his head turning to kiss your temple. “Need some air?” He murmured, and you shook your head no.

“Just need you,” you whispered, holding him tighter.

He let you cry into his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles onto your back and murmuring reassurances into your hair. When you'd exhausted yourself, you pulled back and he reached up to hold your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“Thank you for doing that,” you sniffled, sliding your hands down his chest, his sweater soft beneath your palms.

“It was my pleasure, love,” he replied, looking you in the eye. “You—him—this, I needed this. Needed you,” he breathed, voice tightening. “I forgot why we did all it, what all the sacrifices were for, and you reminded me. He reminded me.”

You rose on your toes to press a kiss to his lips, not knowing how else to express how you were feeling that wasn't, well, insanely soon.

He kissed you back, passionate enough to steal your breath, but released you when the door to your brother's room opened.

“Darling—oh, I'm sorry. Darling, would you like to come get a cup of coffee with me?” Your mother asked, clearly fighting a grin at discovering you.

“Sure, mum,” you exhaled, reluctantly stepping away from George. “You okay for a minute?”

“Absolutely, I'll keep an eye on him.” He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before releasing you to your mother, a soft smile on his face.

When you returned twenty minutes later, you found George stretched out in the arm chair pulled up right next to your brother’s bed, Rudolph on the television.

“—Fred managed to get the deer into the kitchen with some carrots and loaf of banana bread, and kept him distracted while I tied bells and ornaments—mom’s favorite’s, of course—to it’s antlers.”

Your brother was giggling, curled up with the stuffed bear George conjured earlier, his eyes heavy as he fought to stay awake to hear the story.

“But then we ran out of banana bread and Fred tried to give it some cookies, but by then the deer had discovered the Christmas tree in the corner, with the popcorn strings and cranberries and salt dough ornaments, y’know? So the deer started eating the bloody Christmas tree and we cannot get it out of the house now. It’s found the best sodding snack on earth. So by the time my mom get’s home, half the tree is gone, there’s shi—dirt all over the house, dishes are broken, holes in the walls—”

“What did she do?” Your mom asked, laughing. “I would have sent you out to live with the deer and it’s family.”

George grinned. “We ate nothing but carrots and banana bread for a week. Even for Christmas dinner. It was torture,” he chuckled, turning back to your brother, only to find him sound asleep. “That boring, huh?” He joked, rising from the chair so your mom could take it. But instead, she pulled him in for a hug, surprising him.

“Thank you for doing this, and I’m so sorry about your brother. But I know he’d be so proud of you today,” she murmured, and you saw George’s eyes well, his jaw flexing as he tried to fight it. Your mom pulled back, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then smoothing away her lipstick with her thumb. “You’re a wonderful, wonderful man, George Weasley. And I’m so glad you’re here.”

He nodded, a tear streaking down his face. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very k-kind.”

Your mother passed him to you, his hand gripping your tightly as he fought to keep his composure. “Goodnight, mum. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Your mother nodded, waving you away while she kissed your brothers cheek.

You led George out of the room and down the hall, finding an empty room to slip into. As soon as the door closed behind you, he sank to his knees, great, heaving sobs wracking his body. You lowered yourself to the ground with him, pulling his head into your shoulder and rocking him back and forth, his tears soaking through your sweater and shaking your whole body.

“I miss him,” George gasped like he was in pain, his grip almost bruising around your body.

“I know, baby. I know you do,” you said into his hair, holding his head against your chest. Your own tears began to spill then, for him, for you, for your family, and his, and you clung to one another as the overwhelming grief took it’s pound of flesh.

Slowly, he began to settle, breathing labored, but his tears subsiding. He lifted his head, looking at you through tear-brightened eyes, his lashes dark and spiked with moisture. You leaned forward, kissing away the droplets on his cheeks and jaw, until you felt him start to smile.

“I-it’s been so long since I—” he cleared his throat, reaching up to cup your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I was numb for awhile, so long I sort of forgot what anything else felt like. I meant what I said earlier, you reminded me of I’d lost, but in the best way.” Tears welled up again, but he smiled through them. “He would have been so fucking jealous that I got you. But Merlin, he would have loved you so much.”

You huffed a laugh, lower lip trembling as your heart soared. “George,” was all you could manage, and he leaned forward to kiss you, rising onto his knees and pulling into into his chest.

Then, that wild spinning sensation enveloped you again, and in a blink you were back on his couch, exactly as you were before, the credits to the movie rolling on the screen, your glasses of wine exactly where you left them.

“Stay with me tonight,” he asked, trailing kisses down your neck as you reoriented yourself. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, we could spend it together.” He lifted his head to look you in the eyes, and you nodded eagerly.

“Yeah,” you said, laughing as he rained kisses over your face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Thank you so much for reading!

I hope you have the most wonderful holiday season and start of the new year <3

[wilhelminyard]

compilation of nice/sweet things the foxes said to neil because even though they're a bunch of assholes who'll insult anyone in their vicinity they all just love him so damn much (part 1) :

WYMACK :

"if your parents are a problem for you, we'll move you to south carolina early."

"foxes are foxes for a reason and they know we wouldn't sign you if you didn't qualify. that doesn't mean they know specifics. it's not my place to ask and I'm sure as hell not going to tell them."

"it's about second chances, neil. second, third, fourth, whatever, as long as you get at least one more than what anyone else wanted to give you."

"I have never, ever hit someone without provocation and I'm sure as hell not going to start with you. you hear me?"

"I'll take care of this. you take care of you."

"do you have any idea what could have happened to you between here and there? what were you thinking? you should have called me"

"any of us would have come and gotten you"

"it's not your job to take care of yourself anymore. it's your job to play, and mine and abby's job to look after you."

ANDREW :

"oh you might actually turn out to be interesting"

"you be something. kevin says you'll be a champion. four years and you'll go pro. five years and you'll be court."

"curious that a man with so much potential, who has so much fun, who could 'be something' wouldn't want any of it"

"a liar who practices occasional honesty. clever."

"are you going to tell kevin?" "don't ask me stupid questions"

"oh neil, as unpredictable as he is unreal"

"what would it take to make you stay?"

"I'll stand between you and the moriyamas"

"you gave your game to kevin. give your back to me."

KEVIN :

"neil is exactly what the foxes need right now. his inexperience is inconsequential. we went through a hundred files looking for a striker for this year, but neil is the only one we approached. we knew as soon as we saw him we needed to sign him. we're just lucky we got there before anyone else did"

"our primary concern was keeping neil safe"

"*to riko* leave him alone."

MATT :

"are you bleeding anywhere?"

"coach says [neil's] got potential. andrew says you're fast. [...] andrew bets you can outrun everyone on this team."

"seriously are you okay?"

"I'll owe you one" "you won't owe me anything"

"you be careful, okay?"

"I'm fine" "you say that a lot. I'm starting to think you don't know what it means."

"coach says stupid but I say you have balls of steel"

NICKY :

"neil, you clean up good"

"andrew is keeping you, same as he kept kevin. it means you're part of the family now. [...] family means something different with us because it has to. it's not about blood. it's not even about who we like. it's about who andrew's willing to protect."

"that makes you invaluable to andrew"

"you're one of us, which means we'll never push you further than you're willing to go"

DAN :

"are you okay?"

"coach said you hitchhiked your way back here. I'd yell at you for being stupid but coach said he handled that already"

"we didn't let him [in]. he didn't make it further than the front door."

"neil? you don't have to do this, you know"

ALLISON :

"looking fancy"

SETH :

"maybe you're not as stupid as I thought"

AARON :

(I know it surprised me too but it's probably the only compliment he gives neil throughout the entire series and they literally just met at that point)

"at least you're not going to completely drag us down. it'll take most the season to get you where we need you to be but I can see why kevin picked you"

[perasperaadpasta]

"You're truly sick in the head if you believe that a deep-rooted, complex, and historic issue like female infanticide in India is the fault of trans people. There's nothing else to say on that matter." It's not complex at all, like all male violence. And I didn't say that. Your disingenuous reduction to absurdity of what I said is sufficient to understand why you would posit the OP as a "gotcha".

That violence against women and girls precedes trans activism is irrelevant to the fact trans activism's erosion of legal definitions and consequential protections of women compound it.

"Anyways, who overruled Roe v. Wade and currently leads a culture war against birth control, contraceptive, sex ed, and maternal care? Who champions the laissez-faire MIC which neglects and kills women? Who wants to dismantle hiring protections, DEI, sexual harassment protections, etc? Who wants to subvert our educational system and disable one of the few major tools women have had to elevate themselves to higher social stratum and independence?" Not radical feminists. And if you read them, you'd know. As it is, you but regurgitate the liberal party line.

"not leftists and typically not trans people." Trans activists have defunded two rape shelters and enacted self-ID laws which have resulted in female inmates being raped, impregnated and harassed in female prisons. 70% of trans-identified inmates are imprisoned for sexual assault, 40% with more than one instance.

And your pantomime of trying to convince yourself radical feminists have, directly or indirectly, contributed to anti-abortion legistlation is as laughable as actual conservatives' fear mongering of us as desiring to have abortions as a hobby.

"First of all, nobody is supporting any such legislation which obscures what female infanticide is." Australian federal court recently ruled there is no distinction between gender and sex. Self-ID laws are predicated precisely on this, aiming to alter sex markers on legal documents and medical and criminal statistics.

"Comprehend that advocating for trans peoples' rights isn't a cohesive ideology in and of itself, it's an aspect of various competing ideologies and there are many different philosophical interpretations of the matter." You could say the same for radical feminism, except rules for thee but not for me.

"If you have issues with such liberal-individualist ideas surrounding gender and sex, then make that your issue"

We always have,

"instead of vilifying trans people as a demographic."

but TRAs do exactly that to us, in response. Vilify us and categorize our criticism of gender and our sex-based advocacy as personal persecution of themselves.

And currently, theirs is not only the accepted paradigm, but so well-accepted that the mere disagreement with the concept of gender, or even failure to allude to it in our sex-based advocacy, is enough to get one fired, expelled from academic institutions, professionally shunned and ostracized, and of course, publicly harassed at leisure.

It was not us who created or insist on this juncture. Your efforts to position our defense against it as "hysterical" and "obsessive" reads precisely as the gaslighting it is.

Trans activists:

'Woman is an identity and a social construct'

Planet Earth:

[circeyoru]

The Only Reason _ Part 4 *END*

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Worker!Reader - Mana Chaos AU]

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 (here)

You sat behind Kaisel while Jinwoo willed it to obey him without trouble. A sudden shift was all it takes for your arms around Jinwoo’s waist to tighten like your life depended on it. Well, it does since you were a few thousand feet above land and sea. You could hear Jinwoo’s rich chuckle at your hold and enjoyed your dependency on him for safety, even when you didn’t have a choice in the matter.

After Jinwoo completed that high-ranking dungeon with ease, he was initially supposed to be sent back to his cell and put in a straitjacket. Though, you managed to convince your other Personnel colleagues to let Jinwoo roam around a bit, with your supervision, of course. While you did say ‘roam around’ it was actually a family visit for him, it has been a while since he last saw them face to face. You had no family to speak of, but you understand the family bond and love.

Jinwoo was no monster or beast overtaken by power and strength.

You guided him to Jeju Island, the island you brought under his name but with your wealth. A gift of sorts, since you thought Jinwoo would prefer if he could use his powers and train in a more secluded spot. Plus, you had been planning this move with his mother and younger sister for a while too. 

Not long after Jinwoo was admitted, you did a background scan of him while Personnel 001 was busy testing Jinwoo and subjecting him to their games under the excuse of writing up Jinwoo’s qualities and potential harm. You have never liked 001, but you can’t deny they were talented in some sense, so you never fought against it.

While you went over Jinwoo’s background, you found the records of his earlier days as an E-Rank Hunter, the lowest of the low. Not a pretty past story, he was in constant warzones over his caliber, facing difficulties that you saw as hard to deal with. Then you saw his protectiveness and care over his mother and younger sister. That was what got your attention. He voluntarily placed himself in the facility to protect his family.

Naturally, you had to see for yourself the two people he cared for. You dressed comfortably and went to them outside of work when they both would be at home. While you made your way there, you noticed some Guards stationed from post to post to monitor Jinwoo’s residence. Some had moved away when they recognized your status, none questioned why you were there, for no one is allowed to question a Personnel.

You brushed your clothes before you knocked and waited for an answer. There was obvious sounds coming from inside, but it was long until a response came.

“Go away.” The voice of a young girl shouted through the door. You deduced it to be Jinwoo’s younger sister, Jinah.

“Hello, I would like to have a chat with Hunter Sung’s family members, I mean no harm.” You announced your purpose.

There was another long silence before the door creaked open and half the face of an older woman was seen. “Please leave us alone. You already took my son away from us. What more do you want?”

You forced yourself to stay as professional as you could, stopping yourself from sighing. Not because things weren’t going smoothly, but because things progressed in such a way. Not only is a member of their family gone and treated like a tool, but they were also observed like some suspect. “Mrs. Park, I truly mean no harm or ill intent. If you wish, I will call off the guards stationed near you as proof of my sincerity. I’ll visit another time.”

And you did as you promised. While you were dealing with your work, you’d have glimpses of Jinwoo in the testing area with Personnel 001. It was nothing short of experimentation and everyone was all for it, thinking and taking another S-Rank Hunter as the perfect test subject to toy with without regards for the consequences.

Briefly, you’d see Jinwoo’s eyes lock on yours and you’d see the sharpen in them, though also a softness. You’d turn away or would have your attention cut off abruptly due to something and the thought was gone like the wind.

It took some time, yet worth it when you earned trust from Mrs. Park Kyung-Hye and Jinah. They had a lot to share about Jinwoo and gave you a picture of Jinwoo before he became an S-Rank Hunter, even before he worked as an E-Rank Hunter. The things you never found in the background check was all there to give you a clear perspective of who Jinwoo was as a person.

That’s why. When Personnel 001’s death was announced during work, you were neither sad nor grieving. You quickly saw through the cause labelled as ‘accidental’ and saw the culprit. Hunter Sung Jinwoo snapped. After what happened with Personnel 001, no one wanted to work close with Jinwoo if they could help it, so you took up the slack.

As expected, Jinwoo had intentionally done it for a reaction and change of some kind. You’re thankful to him for pulling out a thorn at your side, so you wanted to repay him in some way. You’re reminded that the two females truly loved and cared for Jinwoo as much as he does for them. It was heartbreaking to see them separated once more after reuniting for a moment.

So why not earn an opportunity where they could meet?

It started small. A disposable device so that they could text each other. A phone call with a burner phone provided by you. Then, a video call. Last was sneaking Jinwoo out of the building through the shadows. He called it <Shadow Exchange> with a cooldown of a few hours; in those few hours, he spent it to the fullest with his family while you would stay in the cell to keep watch and ensure no one knew Jinwoo was gone.

It was something that heavily relied on trust. For if Jinwoo were to decide he’d rather stay with his family than return to the cell, that would be it. You nor anyone else could restrain him or bring him back, and your place within the facility would plummet (but that was none of your concerns). With what you know of his abilities, he could have left the country and sought somewhere safe to live with his family without issue. 

Still, he returned every time.

The perfect opportunity came when the Jeju raid was prioritized. You were in the meeting on how to deal with it. An alliance with Japanese Hunters. It was risky to have the S-Ranks in public, even riskier with S-Ranks from another country. Some wanted Jinwoo to be on the assault team, but you disagreed, saying it was not good to use a trump card when the Japanese Hunters seemed to be playing something. 

The team was decided between you and the other Personnel with the advice of Go Gunhee, a head figure of the Hunter Association before the EMI took over. That old Hunter still had a good say over what happened with Hunters, especially the high-ranking ones in the country. He was the only S-Rank allowed to remain among the public due to his fragile and slowly routine health; the only precaution against him was the <Outrage>. So, the association building became the headquarters for the EMI Korea branch.

You were going to go with the selected Hunters to Jeju Island, along with a few Personnel from the Japan branch. However, when Jinwoo or his Shadows overheard you’d be going to a dangerous raid to supervise with another Personnel, he was quick to demand your presence in his cell and threaten to <Outrage> if you had gone to said raid.

So you stayed in the facility building while watching the raid broadcast live through body cameras on the Hunters. You and everyone else’s eyes were glued to the scenes. The others were focused on wishing for the raid’s clearance. You were focused because you hoped—prayed—for the Hunters’ safe return. They were still Hunters.

Why can’t anyone see that? Understand that?

You recall the moment Cha Hae-In was knocked out on the verge of death, Min Byung-Gyu was killed with his head devoured, Choi Jong-In’s mana had long since ran out, Lim Tae-Gyu was outmatched and rendered useless, and Baek Yoonho and Ma Dongwook’s defence and strength were depleted due to lack of energy. The talented S-Rank Hunters of Korea were about to be wiped out since the Japanese said they were falling just as quickly.

There was no time to lose. There was only one answer. One hope for this nightmare.

“Open the door.” You coldly instructed the guards. 

You didn’t care that they flinched and fumbled out of their seats to do as you ordered, unable to hide their phones that played the live stream of the raid. You also didn’t miss the gossip from the other guards silently cheering that their job might be lighter with empty cells, meaning they hoped for the S-Rank Hunters’ fall.

The doors slowly opened for you, and you made your way through them, approaching the darkness. You took exactly five strides, and you knew you’d be standing in front of what would be the side of Jinwoo’s bed. He’d be sitting by the bedside, waiting for you with a smirk. His glowing eyes betray his location and his anticipation of your sudden but expected visit.

“Clear the Jeju Island Raid.” You spoke firmly.

“I’m not interested in doing charity.” Jinwoo’s eyes closed. You heard ruffling and then faint footsteps that were made on purpose since his movements could be compared to that of an assassin or even a ghost. You felt his presence before you saw his glowing purple eyes closer in front of you. “So I’ll have to decline.”

“For me. Do it for me.” You knew. You knew well that the only way to get through to him now was to you. From his interest, it turned to obsession and then to possessiveness. You knew you were the only reason Jinwoo hadn’t broken out of you once he knew you were shielding and treating his family with care, not out of manipulation but out of the rare kindness of your heart. In his eyes, you were a gem among trash.

Jinwoo hummed and chuckled. You felt his forehead against yours and his hands cupping your face with gentleness anyone else would shake and think it’s impossible for a Hunter of his status. “Of course. How could I refuse? It’s great that you know how much power you also hold over me and not just the other way around.”

Your hands reached up to pat his cheek, though you ended up with his neck due to the darkness and height difference. Jinwoo giggled as if he was ticklish. You pouted with a blush and uncharacteristically reached higher on your tiptoes to pat his cheeks. “Time is of the essence.”

“At your command. You just lead the way.”

Your memories brought you back when you noticed the familiar island. You pointed down for Jinwoo, and he guided Kaisel to fly down. From the air, one could see the built mansion and the playground and fields around. Surrounded by forests and a few pathways that connected the mansion to other areas of the island. There were some of Jinwoo’s Shadows out and around on the island like guardians. 

“This place is counted as private property; no one can step foot here without permission. If they do, they could be punished. This is my gift to you and your family, also an apology for what you all have endured.” You spoke as the ground came nearer and nearer. You saw the mansion doors open, and his mother and little sister came out to greet him, all smiles and tears. “I’ve removed you from the facility records and became your official Guardian. So you don’t have to return there any more.”

Kaisel landed and Jinwoo looked back at you. “Won’t you be reprimanded for what you’ve done?”

You shook your head with a smile. “It’s about time I did this for the Hunters. I’ll do the same for the others back at the facility as well. There are plenty of small islands they can use and inhabit too, so—”

“No.” Jinwoo gripped your hands tightly. He suddenly carried you in his arms and jumped down from Kaisel’s back. Out of reflexes, you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in his collar. His words made you look back at him. “You can’t do that for the others. Don’t just free me and forget about me.”

“But I…” You were at a loss for words. You thought Jinwoo would be more content with this since he would logically care for his family more than you and let you do your work.

“Big brother!”

“Jinwoo.”

The calls of Jinah and Kyung-Hye interrupted your sentence, and you didn’t want to dampen the otherwise tearful reunion. Jinwoo placed you on your feet. “We’ll talk later.”

You watched the two hug Jinwoo and he smiled in their presence, so innocent and childish, a stark contrast to the attitude he’d give to any other soul on the planet, apart from you in some cases. Now that you think about it, you look back to see Kaisel had long melted into Jinwoo’s shadow, and showed you the scenery of the sea. Did you even prepare for a way back to the facility or off this island?

As your head turned back to Jinwoo, he flashed you a carefree smile.

Oh. You missed that detail.

Note: Last one for this month, I think. And this marks the end of the series! Thanks for coming along for this ride! There's not much to continue from this point on cause Jinwoo basically got his freedom back, but who knows. Maybe I'll get some ideas and continue, or this would stay as the end~

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: @stupendouspizzacomputer @xiannars @skylar896 @forbidden-sunlight @waka-babe @soft-dots @iamapotatoe @hvnweeps @amayakurusu13 @sleepydang @avalordream @lunacielooo @lilliana-14 @mydearestbeloved @icefox8155 @loudlylovingcreator-blog @o-qi-shisme @angstylittleb1tch @shineinouzen15

[syndrossi]

Winter Prompt #2: Knight of Stars AU (pt2)

And here is the second part of Knight of Stars. Part one and a description of the premise can be found here.

x~x~x

That the Knight of Stars was but a boy of sixteen caught Daemon by surprise, given how freely the knight had laid hands upon him during the melee. Few other knights, despite having been informed by Viserys that they were welcome to “handle” him as necessary for his “protection,” had dared.

He is bold, I will grant him that.

The knight stood to calm attention within the small council chamber, beneath the curious stares of some of the most powerful men in the realm, unruffled by their study. Some of those stares strayed toward Daemon occasionally, and he returned them with a glare of his own.

The knight’s hair was dark like Jon’s, and slightly shorter, loosely brushing his shoulders, but his eyes were a purple akin to Daemon’s own. And my brother’s, he thought with irritation. And yet he is not subject to speculation that he fathered a bastard at—what, seventeen? Eighteen?

It was not beyond all possibility, but they had little other than eye color in common. Even the young knight’s build differed from his: broad of shoulder and of middling height, though time would tell whether he eventually topped that.

Ser Harrold himself had escorted the knight to the inn on the Street of Kings where he had taken up lodging—not a cheap accommodation, suggesting a house of some means—to retrieve his belongings, which had been gathered into his saddlebag and lugged to the castle, along with a greatsword wrapped in thick cloth that was currently in the care of Ser Arryk, well out of the Knight of Stars’ reach.

“You exhibited both skill and vigilance in protecting my brother,” Viserys said, gesturing the knight closer. Daemon stifled a scowl. His brother had informed him of his intentions beforehand, once the assassin had been found to be of Triarchy origin. “His life is precious to me, so if there is a boon that you would ask in return, I would hear it.” He smiled at the boy. “If you have not yet been knighted, that can be arranged.”

“I spoke no falsehoods, Your Grace, when I joined the Princesguard Tourney,” the boy replied. “I am a true knight. I have spoken my vows and stood my vigil.” He paused, stealing a glance at Daemon before returning his gaze to Viserys. “As to the prince’s safety, that is no less my charge simply because I have not yet been chosen for the Princesguard. The boon that I ask is only that I be considered for the honor.”

Viserys’s eyebrows crept up. “And why should you not be considered?”

“Because I hail from Starfall, Your Grace. I am Ser Arthur of House Dayne,” the knight said with a bow.

Most of the heads in the room turned to Viserys, but Daemon’s stare remained fixed on the knight, who gazed calmly back, as though he had not just professed to being an enemy of the Crown. One allied with the Triarchy, no less, whose assassination the Dornish knight had conveniently “saved” Daemon from.

It was a moment before his brother spoke. “Ser Arthur, doubtless you are aware that your kingdom wars with mine.”

“I am, Your Grace.”

“And that the man who tried to kill Prince Daemon was of the Triarchy, an ally of your kingdom’s and an enemy of ours.”

The Dornish knight’s lips parted in apparent surprise, before turning downward in a frown. “I was not, Your Grace. But I would say that I proved myself no ally of his.”

“Because you are no ally to them?” Daemon interjected. “Or because appearing so affords a chance to place yourself as close to my sons as possible?”

“Or the king’s sons,” Hightower said pointedly.

“Or my daughters, or my brother,” Viserys said with an impatient wave of his hand. “Shall we enumerate all of the charges that will belong to the Princesguard?”

Hightower inclined his head. “My apologies, Your Grace.” He then turned a frown upon the Dornish knight. “As to the matter at hand, perhaps the young ser’s reward could be a gentle escort home?”

Daemon swallowed his own words, which had been of a similar sentiment, misliking that he found himself in agreement with the man.

“Your Grace,” Ser Arthur said, bowing once more. “I will gladly swear my service to you, and forswear my home, if you but allow me the chance to prove myself. I shall fight any man you set before me as more worthy of the Princesguard, all seven if I must.”

“First I would know your purpose in seeking to join the Princesguard, Ser Arthur. Our realms have ever been in conflict, and it has not yet been a century since your own forebears set the fields of Oldtown to the torch.”

Daemon had forgotten. By the pinched twist to Hightower’s lips, he had not, which did nothing to allay his suspicions, but House Dayne did grow ever so slightly in his esteem.

“I—” The knight’s demeanor had been one of steely confidence thus far, but for the first time, it seemed to waver. “Six moons ago, I had a dream so vivid that it felt as though I had lived it. There was a young prince of your house, fair of hair and with eyes like my own, whose song was like the sweetest of spells, and I was his protector. His name was Rhaegar.”

Daemon straightened, hand straying to the hilt of Dark Sister on instinct, and the knight’s gaze shifted to him—though his was not the only to do so.

“There was no such prince of your house, however,” the knight continued. “And the name was not one of any forebears of your house. I thought—” The knight frowned. “I thought that perhaps it had been naught but a dream, until word reached Starfell of your stolen princes who had been found in the Vale.”

The Dornish knight had not been subtle with his interest during the tourney. Daemon’s lip curled. Does he seek to claim dragon dreams in supposedly knowing of my son before he was found? The pillow houses of Lys abound with pretty whores with purple eyes, and they are no more the heirs to Valyria than he.

“I did not know what to do,” the knight admitted, to Viserys’s rapt attention. “As you say, my realm wars with yours, and before, I could tell myself that it was but a strange flight of fancy. When I heard of the tourney, however, and that you sought knights to swear themselves to their protection, I knew what I must do.”

“Your father gave you leave?” Viserys asked.

The knight shook his head. “I knew that he would not understand, and would seek to prevent me. I slipped away on a Braavosi vessel and made haste here.”

Viserys’s thumb tapped the top of his cane, and Daemon suspected the same thought had occurred to him. Starfall will think that we stole him away. And Prince Qoren will believe that we seek to undermine his war effort by taking hostages.

“My king,” Hightower said with a glint in his eye. “Dorne’s support in the Stepstones has been largely restricted to ships, grain, and coin. Should the next phase of Prince Daemon’s efforts there prove fruitful, they may be eager to exit the war. An offer to return a knight of one of their noble houses could speed along such a decision.”

“That assumes this is not a Dornish plot in the first place,” Daemon said sourly. “Perhaps they seek a swift end to the war by kidnapping a royal child.”

My son, as it happens. But why Rhaegar? That was what troubled Daemon. Any of his brother’s sons, or one of Rhaenyra’s, would be a far more valuable hostage for their place in the succession. Unless he is allied to another power entirely—such as Volantis and its warlocks—with all that drivel about a dream intended to lower our guard and afford an opportunity to strike.

“I would not dishonor my vows, Prince Daemon,” the knight said, fixing him with a stern look. “Nor the oaths of the Princesguard.”

“The matter of your participation in the tourney merits further deliberation, Ser Arthur,” Viserys said quickly, doubtless seeking to prevent Daemon from offending him further. “However, your swift action saved my brother from harm, and I shall remember that.”

The knight was bold enough to meet his brother’s gaze in challenge. “But you will not grant me your promised boon.”

“Mind your place,” Daemon said sharply. “You speak to a king.”

He pointedly ignored the incredulous stares the remark garnered from both his brother and Hightower, who opened his mouth to chime in once more, until a sudden rap at the door spared them whatever self-serving remark he had been preparing.

“Your Grace?” It was Ser Erryk’s voice that emerged from the other side of the door, and Daemon’s heart leapt into his throat. He is meant to be guarding my sons. He was halfway to the door before the Kingsguard continued. “I have Prince Rhaegar and Prince Jon with me, they are most insistent on speaking with you on the matter of the Knight of Stars.”

Daemon shouldered Ser Harrold out of the way to pull the chamber door open and find his sons staring up at him with twin looks of determination. Relief narrowly edged out anger, which he directed at Ser Erryk instead in the form of a glare.

“My prince,” the Kingsguard said, meeting it without apology. “They threatened to seek…other means of reaching the council chamber if I refused them. I thought it prudent to escort them instead.”

By “other means” Daemon assumed they had meant the secret passages they had been expressly forbidden from using.

“This is a matter of grave import,” Rhaegar said, refusing to wither as he transferred his glare to his sons. “I must speak to the king.”

His son ducked beneath his arm, while Jon merely shrugged and moved to follow. Daemon scowled. He had expected his cooperation at least in the matter, but Rhaegar had shown himself to be uniquely capable of convincing his brother, given enough time, and he dreaded to see how quickly Viserys would crumble in the coming minutes.

“Your Grace,” Rhaegar said, halting a few steps into the room to offer Viserys a bow, appearing to trust that Daemon would not scruff him from behind. “A persistent dream has visited me over the past week.”

His brother gestured for him to approach, and Daemon followed at his side, positioning himself between his son and the Dornish knight as they passed him, hand resting lightly on Dark Sister’s hilt in warning.

Hightower was frowning, as though he too was painfully aware of how persuasive Rhaegar could be. “My king, I do not see what merit a child’s dr—”

“I will hear it,” Viserys said with a rare note of censure in his voice. “Continue, nephew.”

“I dreamt of a knight cloaked in white and silver, dark of hair and with eyes like kin. He stood at my side in a courtyard bathed in darkness so cold and vast that it choked the breath from me. There was no light save for the stars above us, not even the moon, and all was silent—as though a curtain had been drawn over the world.”

His son’s words had the intonation of prophecy, and they seemed to steal the very warmth of the room. All eyes were upon Rhaegar, the sudden stillness of those present mimicking that which he described. Daemon felt that he could not move—should not move.

“A star streaked across the sky, bright against the pitch of night, and when the knight drew his blade in answer, it shone like that star, forcing the darkness back, and I knew that I was safe.”

Starfall. No one seemed to dare speak once Rhaegar finished, the hush persisting. Hightower shifted, clearly ill at ease, and Viserys seemed locked in a spell.

“Your Grace, if I may?”

It was the Dornish knight who had spoken, and Viserys shook himself, tearing his gaze from Rhaegar to the knight. “What is it?”

“My sword,” the knight said, nodding toward the cloth-wrapped bundle. “May I?”

His brother gave a distracted nod, eyes shifting between the knight and Rhaegar, and straying occasionally to Jon and even Daemon, as though trying to make sense of something. Ser Harrold stepped in, taking the knight by the arm to draw him a few paces further from Viserys and Rhaegar, out of sword reach, and Daemon gave him a nod of gratitude.

The wrapped greatsword was handed to the Dornish knight, who unwrapped it with a strange reverence, revealing a split sheath that he then drew it from, raising it high to bare it for all present to see. This time, all eyes went to the blade, which was the color of pale milkglass and seemed to glow wherever the light hit it. This was no Valyrian steel blade, nor any common steel, and more than a few of the eyes on it widened in recognition.

“I am the Sword of Morning, Your Grace,” the knight said with a bow. “And with your leave, I will offer my oath in service to the Crown—and Prince Rhaegar.”

His brother’s shoulders relaxed, the wonder in his eyes near a gleam, and Daemon knew what he was about to do: accept the knight at his word, as though dreams were the sole province of dragons, and not well within the capabilities of a warlock to induce. It would be far from the first time they have targeted my sons thus.

Daemon stepped before the knight and drew his own blade. “If you wish to go anywhere near my son, you shall first face me.”

“What are your terms, my prince?” the knight asked.

“Duel to first submission,” Daemon said, knowing that his brother would not allow one to the death, and unwilling to trust one to first blood. “Should you prevail, I shall withdraw my objections to you being considered for the Princesguard. Should I prevail, you will return to Starfall and never step foot in my brother’s realm again.”

A hand tugged his sleeve. “Father!”

A flicker of motion out of the corner of his eye found Hightower frantically seeking his brother’s attention, but the Dornish knight did not even hesitate, his arrogance unwavering. “I accept, Prince Daemon.”

x~x~x

(It's not technically a trial by combat, as Daemon isn't outright accusing him of anything, but it's...halfway there.)