#it’s supposed to say you’re a nerd | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

domjaehyun · 4 months ago

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i ❤️ hot nerds (l.dh, n.jm)

PAIRING. pervert!nerd!haechan, pervert!nerd!jaemin x popular!fem!reader GENRE. smut, slight fluff CONTENTS. explicit smut (kissing, fingering, oral (receiving), titfucking, breast play, lots of drool and spit, overstimulation, snowballing, dirty talk, rimming, anal play, missionary, riding, mating press, breeding/creampies) WORD COUNT. 8.7k SUMMARY. when your professor pairs you with the two smartest students in your class for a group project, you find yourself making an interesting deal with them. or, alternatively: the one where you have to help two nerds learn to get girls so you can pass your class. PLAYLIST. n/a NOTES. remember when i said i was up to something with these two? this is it! teehee :3 i hope you enjoy!!

“Professor Kwon, I really need to pass this class,” you say with a worried frown, and she nods in understanding, reaching over to pat your hand gently.

“I’ll see if I can scrape up any extra credit assignments for you to do, but in the meantime, you can try and do your best on the group project coming up. It’s worth thirty percent of your grade, and if you want, I can pair you up with some of the stronger students in the class to help ensure you get a good grade.” she offers helpfully, and your face lights up with a relieved smile as you nod.

“I would love that,” you gush gratefully. “Thank you so much, Professor Kwon! I really appreciate all your help.” You can tell from her kind expression that she knows your words are sincere, and it warms your heart that she’s been so helpful and generous.

“No worries, dear. I’ll email you tonight with some extra credit assignments for you, okay?” she says, and you nod in agreement as you pack up your bags to leave her office hours.

“I’ll be waiting! Thank you again, and have a great rest of your day!” You chirp, slinging your bag over your shoulder before exiting her office.

As you head down the hall, you think about who, in your thirty-person class, she could possibly pair you up with that could help your grade.

“Okay, class, I’m going to pair you up with your partners for the group project. Just a reminder—it is worth thirty percent of your grade, so please take this seriously. I would hate to have to fail any of you.” Professor Kwon says as she looks out at the classroom.

Indistinct mutterings go around, and you look around as you contemplate who she might put you with. There’s Mark Lee, the sweet, endearingly bubbly English major in the year below you who’s also an RA for the building across from your dorm.

There’s Huang Renjun, the smart, quiet art major junior in the same year as Mark, and he could be a good partner, you suppose—

You’re dragged out of your reverie by the sound of your professor saying your name, followed by, “Lee Haechan, and Na Jaemin.”

Oh. Well, you’re certainly not upset by that development. You look across the room, where Jaemin and Haechan are sitting together, to see that they’re already looking over at you. Haechan smiles nervously and averts his gaze quickly, but Jaemin leans into the eye contact, giving you a small wave.

You smile and wiggle your fingers back in greeting, making Jaemin grin and Haechan dissolve into excited giggles, the older male pushing his thick, black-rimmed glasses up on his nose absentmindedly.

Your professor finishes reading off the groups and waves her hands at you all, gesturing for you to get situated with your partners. You move to stand only to see that Haechan is rushing to stand up and make his way over to you, clutching his notebook and papers to his chest almost protectively.

Haechan and Jaemin are also the year below you, and you know them relatively well, given that you’re the RA for their dorm building—well, you know a bit about them: they live across the hall from you, they’re avid gamers, and, if you’re not mistaken, they’re two of the top students in the class.

You watch with an amused smile as Jaemin leisurely slings his bag over his shoulder, the cool, calm, and collected counterpart to your other partner, and they both make their way over to where you sit, Haechan sitting in the chair in front of you and turning it around to face you while Jaemin sits beside you.

“Hi,” Haechan greets quietly, and you shoot him a friendly smile.

“Hi, Haechan,” you reply sweetly, and his face breaks out into a brilliant, shy grin.

“Hi.” he says again, and Jaemin snorts.

“You said that already.”

“Well, I’m saying it again.” Haechan counters, and you chuckle.

“Hi,” you say, “again.”

“...Hi.” he mumbles shyly, barely able to get the words out past his excited smile.

“Hi, Jaemin,” you greet, turning to look at the male beside you.

He shoots you a dazzling smile that makes you wonder, for a moment, how he even got the label of “nerd” everyone classifies him as. Haechan is a bit more understandable, given his general flustered nature around girls, but Jaemin’s always been calm and easygoing—you’d even go so far as to say he’s smooth. However, you suppose that after hearing Jaemin rant and rave about video games and the like, you can see why someone might label him as one even if you don’t find video games all that nerdy.

“Hi,” he replies easily, lifting his eyebrows in greeting. It’s your turn to avert your gaze, the mildly suggestive gesture making you feel a little hot under the collar when you couple it with the fact that he can’t keep his eyes off of you.

“So, um,” you say, clearing your throat slightly, “I think we should meet up after classes today to talk about what we’re gonna do for our group project.”

“Okay,” Haechan agrees instantly, nodding vigorously. “We can meet up in the library? Or the cafeteria—or—well, maybe you’d wanna meet up somewhere private—” he starts to ramble, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion, holding up a finger to stop him. He falls silent immediately, widened, slightly starstruck eyes gazing at you so intently you find yourself growing more endeared to him.

“Why would it matter if it’s in private or not?” you ask, brows furrowed, and Haechan nibbles at his bottom lip, exchanging a wordless glance with Jaemin. “Haechan?”

“In case you… y’know… don’t necessarily want to be seen with us.” he mumbles quietly, and you frown deeply.

“Why would I not want to be seen with you?” you ask, already feeling like you know the answer.

“Because—” Haechan looks around the room to see if anyone’s paying attention to him before continuing, “because we’re nerds,” he says, whispering the word like it’s a slur, “and you’re—well, you know who you are.”

“How about you tell me who I am?” you press gently with a playful smile. “Just to refresh my memory.”

“You’re you. You’re one of the cool seniors—you’re one of the only RAs that everyone likes—and you’re…. y’know… popular.” Haechan whispers that word both like it’s a dream and a word that doesn’t belong in his mouth, and you won’t lie and say it doesn’t bother you slightly.

“Haechan.”

“Mm?” Haechan replies, and you drum your manicured nails on the table in front of you to stop his gaze from wandering furtively around the room.

“First of all, this isn’t a stereotypical clique-y high school movie.” you chuckle. “I can be seen with anyone I want; it never mattered to me.”

“Okay,” he replies hesitantly, but you can sense some of the tension leaving his body as he gradually relaxes.

“Second of all: don’t call yourselves nerds like that—like it’s a label that actually matters. You’re just Haechan, and he’s just Jaemin, and I’m just me.” you finish carefully, and he cracks a smile, looking up from where your hands rest on the table to meet your gaze.

“Okay, cool.” he mumbles, smile growing as your words sink in.

“We can meet on the quad after class if you want,” you say, deliberately choosing the most public location you can think of.

“Well—” Jaemin cuts in, and you turn to look at him to see that he’s looking between you and Haechan. “There are no outlets on the quad… it’s just grass and some trees.”

“True,” you muse thoughtfully. “Where do you guys want to meet?”

“The dorm? Oh, but—” Haechan cuts himself off, shooting a panicked glance Jaemin’s way. “I don’t think my side of the room is presentable right now.”

“Okay,” you say with a laugh. “How about we meet in my room?” you offer, and Haechan’s eyes get so wide you fear he might hurt himself, while Jaemin’s brows shoot up in surprise. Looking between the two of them with growing amusement, you add on, “My last class ends at 4:30pm, and I can be back at my dorm by about 4:45pm, if that works for you guys.”

Neither of them speak for a moment, Haechan seemingly rooted in place with surprise, while Jaemin looks at him expectantly, eyes widening pointedly before he sighs and shakes his head. “Yeah, that works for us.” Jaemin answers finally, and you smile, nodding in confirmation.

“Great!”

“Class is over, everyone! Good luck on your projects, and I’ll see you next Wednesday!” Professor Kwon bids you all goodbye, and everyone starts to gather their things.

“Well, I’ll see you guys then; you know where my room is!” you say, putting your notebook in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“See you later!” Jaemin replies easily, and Haechan nods as if to second Jaemin’s words.

“Bye, Haechan,” you say with a playful smile, finding it cute how flustered the male is by your attention.

“Bye,” he croaks weakly, and you giggle, turning to leave but not before catching a glimpse of Jaemin swatting Haechan’s arm in a scolding gesture.

“Would you relax? At least try to play it cool,” Jaemin whispers loudly from behind your retreating back.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it!” Haechan exclaims in a hushed voice. “She’s so pretty.”

You can’t help but smile widely to yourself as you keep walking, pretending you haven’t heard a thing.

They’re perfectly on time—in fact, if your ears don’t deceive you, they’re five minutes early, the two of them standing outside and bickering quietly.

“Listen,” Jaemin says in a stern whisper, “you’re going to act normal when we get in there. No being weird and quiet and awkward.”

“Yes, sir,” Haechan replies sarcastically, and you snicker quietly. “You try staying calm when she looks at you with those eyes.”

“I do,” Jaemin replies flatly. “If you can’t… skill issue, I guess.”

“Wh— skill issue? I bet I’m skilled at putting my foot up your ass—”

“Shut up, she might be able to hear you!”

“Why don’t you knock, then? We can meet early.”

“Why don’t I knock?” Jaemin replies incredulously. “Why don’t you?”

“Why would I knock?”

“Why would I?! You’re the one all eager to see her.”

“I’m not that eager.” Haechan mumbles bitterly, and Jaemin scoffs.

“You showered to see her.”

“So did you!”

“I always shower after classes. You also put on cologne.”

“Well— Is it a crime to want to smell good in front of a pretty girl?”

“No, but it is a crime to act like a wuss when she so much as looks at you,” Jaemin snarks, and Haechan sucks his teeth.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

There’s a brief scuffle on the other side, and you hear faint slapping sounds like they’re smacking each other back and forth, and you giggle softly, walking over to your door and waiting patiently.

“Would you cut it out? Here–” Jaemin snaps, and three knocks sound out on the other side of your door.

“Shit! Do I look okay?” Haechan worries.

There's silence before Jaemin replies. “No.”

“Fuck you.”

You decide to end their bickering and open your door, smiling at the two of them. “Hi, boys.”

“Hi,” Haechan mumbles shyly, and Jaemin elbows him, glaring at him.

“Hi,” Jaemin greets pleasantly, and you step aside to let them in.

“Make yourselves comfortable.” you offer, and they enter slowly, Haechan moving cautiously like you might change your mind at any moment. “I have snacks, water, and juice if you want anything to eat or drink.”

“Oh, dope,” Haechan says eagerly, heading to your mini fridge and opening it, retrieving a blue Gatorade and plopping down on your fluffy pink rug. Jaemin takes a bag of chips from the basket on top of the fridge and sits beside Haechan so there’s room for you to sit across from them.

You take a can of pineapple juice and frown down at the metal tab. “Can one of you open this? I don’t want to break a nail.”

“I’ll do it!” Haechan exclaims, leaning forward and taking it from you. He opens it with ease and hands it back to you, blushing when you smile gratefully and slip a straw into the opening.

“Thank you, Haechan,” you hum, and he smiles bashfully, nodding.

“You’re welcome.”

“So,” you say, sitting on your bed in front of them as you sip your drink. “What should we do our project on?”

“We were thinking we could do it on something cool, like…” Haechan says, trailing off towards the end and looking over at Jaemin with a clear request for help in his eyes.

Jaemin rolls his eyes slightly, sighs, and says, “Sex.”

You can’t help but smile slightly. “Sex is cool?”

“Well— well, I guess it’s not cool,” Haechan mumbles, unsure of himself, and you cross your leg over the other, watching as his eyes drop to the hem of your skirt, a latent hunger in them as he eyes your bare legs. “But something, like, trendy and relatable.”

“So sex is trendy?” You can’t refrain from teasing him slightly, admiring the way his cheeks flush. “It’s the cool, hip, new thing all the kids are getting into, huh?”

“Well—” Haechan stammers, and you hold up a hand to stop him, the male falling silent instantly and watching you intently.

“I’m just messing with you,” you assure him, and his shoulders slump in relief. “I’m okay with that! I just wanna be super transparent and let you guys know that my passing this class is riding on this grade for this project, so it’s really important to me. I’ll do my best to pull my weight, but I’m not doing as well as you guys, so—”

“We’ll do all the work,” Jaemin offers, and you stop short, blinking at him in surprise.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Haechan chimes in, pushing his glasses up his nose slightly. “You won’t have to lift a finger.”

“...Why?” you ask carefully, and they look at each other, now both a bit shifty. “Guys?”

“Hm?” Haechan asks, and you raise an eyebrow when he doesn’t meet your gaze, clearing your throat and waiting until he does.

“What’s in it for you?”

“Well… we were thinking we could trade services.” Jaemin interjects when it becomes evident that Haechan won’t be answering your question.

“Services?” you question, sitting forward slightly. Shifting your position, you cross your legs at the ankle instead, your knees falling apart slightly, and Haechan’s eyes zero in on the space between your legs, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips as he watches you. “Your service is helping me get an A, and my service is… what, exactly?”

“Um… we were thinking you could help us socially.” Jaemin says carefully, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion.

“How?”

“Teach us how to get girls!” Haechan blurts out.

“So, let me get this straight,” you say, looking between the two of them. “You’ll make sure we get an A on this project, and in return, I have to… help you get girls?”

“Teach us how to get girls,” Haechan stresses. “Don’t just help us get one girl.”

“What’s that quote? Give a man a fish and he’ll eat for a day, but teach him how to fish and he’ll eat for a lifetime.” you recall proudly, and Jaemin nods, pleasantly surprised.

“Exactly,” Haechan confirms. “I’m trying to eat for a lifetime.”

“Noted,” you giggle, and you shrug before nodding. “I don’t see why not.”

Haechan pumps his fist and whispers some sort of victory affirmation that you don’t catch but Jaemin stands up, walking over to your bed, and extends his hand in offering, making you blink at it in confusion.

“Shake on it?” he says slowly, and your mouth makes a little “o” of realization as you nod in understanding, now reaching out to shake his hand. His lips curl into an unnerving yet attractive smile as he grips your hand and pulls you a little closer to whisper, “I can’t wait for our first lesson.”

Something about his intent, unwavering gaze and the way his fingers drag against your palm as you retract your hand—the longing of it all, the lingering touch like he doesn’t want to let go—has your mind reeling in that dizzying feeling from earlier, and you wonder for a minute just what you’ve gotten yourself into.

It’s been about a week of meeting up with Haechan and Jaemin every day to work on your project, and you’ve been giving tips and tricks on how to get girls every day, both boys studiously and dutifully hanging onto your every word.

“I have a question,” Haechan states about twenty minutes into your study session, and you look at him expectantly. “When do we get to the makeover portion?”

You make a small hum of confusion. “Makeover?”

“Yeah, where you style our hair and our wardrobe and get us contacts and stuff.” Haechan says eagerly, and you chuckle.

“Your wardrobes are completely fine, my only advice for your hair is to style it off your forehead more often, and I happen to like your glasses.” you reply, and Haechan sighs in mild impatience, waving his hand dismissively.

“You don’t get it—we need to be fuckable!” Haechan stresses, and you roll your eyes in exasperation.

“Haechan, you’re already fuckable.” you explain calmly, and he opens his mouth in preparation for some witty remark, but after processing your words, his eyes widen and his mouth hangs open uselessly, his accusingly pointed finger now pointing meekly at the floor at an angle.

“I—So—so you would fuck us?” he stammers, and you nod slowly, looking from him to Jaemin.

“Why do you think I let you get away with your numerous dorm violations?” you snort in amusement, and he blinks hard.

“I thought you just took pity on us, y’know? Like you had a soft spot for nerds or something.”

“I don’t have a soft spot for nerds.” you answer. “I have a soft spot for hot nerds, though.”

His mouth opens and closes pathetically as his normally quick-witted brain scrambles to process the information you’ve just presented to him. Jaemin is quicker to act, sitting forward so suddenly the move could be considered as predatory, and you’re not sure if it’s the lighting reflecting off of his glasses or what, but there is most definitely a glint in his eye as he regards you, his lips gradually stretching into a toothy grin.

“So you let us get away with stuff? Because you like us? Like what?” he questions, and you tilt your head to the side as you think.

“Your candles, for starters. Haechan’s tapestry, your many many noise complaints from your neighbors when you two get too heated as you’re gaming,” you start to list off on your fingers, and you cross one leg over the other, not missing the way both of their eyes shift to your newly exposed skin and how… hungry they look. “The way you—” you point at Haechan, “always try to get away with looking up my skirt.”

Haechan’s face flushes a pretty shade of red, and you smile, amused, as he scrambles to defend himself. Before he can, you hold up a hand to silence him.

“Haechan?”

“Yes?” he replies meekly.

“If I minded, I would have said something by now. I certainly wouldn’t have kept wearing skirts and accidentally flashing you.”

His eyes roll back into his head with a whimper and he nods in understanding.

“And you—” you round on Jaemin, who’s still perched like a lion about to pounce, and the male just smiles wider, tilting his head to the side curiously.

“What about me?”

“You probably think you’re slick with the little lingering touches on my back and waist when you’re ‘trying to get by,’ but I only let you do that because I like it.”

His grin widens more than you even thought possible, the glint in his eye now unmistakable. “Oh, yeah? Where else do you like being touched?”

“I mean,” you hum, uncrossing your thighs and smiling as both of their gazes hone in on the space between your legs, “I could tell you, but I think you’d rather have me show you.”

“I have a better idea,” Jaemin murmurs, moving towards you slowly. “How about you let us find out?”

You pretend to think about it for a moment, relishing the way they look at each other with equally worried expressions as they silently pray you won’t back out, before you shrug nonchalantly. “Okay.”

No sooner than the last syllable’s left your mouth do they spring into action; Haechan clambers onto the bed beside you and Jaemin lunges forward to settle himself between your legs. Large, warm hands glide up your inner thighs, pushing them apart as he hikes your skirt up to reveal your light blue boyshorts. He moans loudly at the sight, immediately running his thumbs over your clothed mound, eyes flicking up to your face when your breath hitches softly.

“Princess likes being touched here, huh?” he marvels quietly, leaning in with a slow lick of his lips. “How about kissed, hm? Do you like being kissed here, too?”

“Yeah,” you exhale with a smile, and he grins, wetting his lips once more before leaning in closer and pressing his wet lips to your core, bottom lip barely grazing your concealed clit. As he does, he takes a deep, loud inhale followed by a lust-filled groan that has heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Jesus, Jaemin—”

“Not now.” His reply is distracted, but blunt and domineering all the same, and you find yourself falling silent in surprise. When he pulls back, there’s a wet spot on the fabric where his mouth used to be, and the cool air hits it, making you hiss quietly.

“As hot as these look on you, I want them off.” Jaemin mutters, hooking his fingers into your underwear and tugging it down and off your legs. “Wanna taste it.” he mumbles—you think it’s towards himself—before he’s burying his face between your legs with another loud moan that makes you curse under your breath, overwhelmed with desire.

His tongue lies flat against your folds, languidly and deliciously dragging upwards to circle around your clit. He grunts in delight and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed, hooking his arms around your thighs and pushing forward again, the bridge of his nose pressed against your mound.

You gasp and clutch at the nearest thing in your grasp, which just so happens to be Haechan’s thigh. “Fuck,” you whisper loudly, and Jaemin chuckles.

“Stop neglecting Haechan,” he scolds playfully through a mouthful of your pussy. “This was his idea, you know.”

You manage to redirect your attention to Haechan, whose eyes dart around as he watches you and Jaemin with a wild look in his eyes, the male seemingly frozen on the spot.

Your nose nudges at Haechan’s, the male tilting his head towards you and parting his lips in a soft sigh as your lips meet. It takes a moment for him to reciprocate, almost long enough for you to pull back, but he finally starts to kiss you back with a whimper caught in the back of his throat.

“Haechan, touch me,” you urge, gripping his wrist and bringing his hand to your waist. He clutches your waist, but there’s a hesitance to it that leaves you wanting more.

“Yeah, Haechan, touch her.” Jaemin chuckles before massaging your clit with his tongue. Your eyes roll back into your head with a groan and he rewards your reaction by pressing the wet muscle against you more insistently. “Maybe he needs some incentive.”

“Incentive?” you hum curiously, and he nods, that wicked glint returning to his eyes.

“Take your shirt off.” he presses, and you oblige without hesitation, discarding the shirt behind you on the bed and looking at Haechan expectantly, finding yourself endeared by the way he nibbles his bottom lip nervously. “Haechan, doesn’t she look so good like that?”

“Amazing,” Haechan breathes reverently, and you smile at the praise, eyes closing in bliss.

“Kiss her.” Jaemin suggests, and Haechan does just that, tentatively approaching you and gently connecting his lips with yours. As your mouths move together, you can’t help but notice the same reservation in Haechan’s movements, drawing a plaintive whimper from your lips. “Stop kissing her like you’re scared, Haechan,” Jaemin scolds. “She likes it. Don’t you, princess?”

“Yes,” you reply instantly, reaching up to cup Haechan’s cheek. He shudders at the contact, eyes fluttering shut before reopening with a darkened intensity that clues you in to the fact that Haechan seems to be done holding back.

Sure enough, Haechan clutches your chin and pulls you closer to him, tongue boldly slipping between your lips and exploring the wet warmth of your mouth. His thumb pries your lips apart with a forcefulness that delights you, and he hovers above your open mouth, eyes scanning yours before letting a string of saliva drip down from his lips onto your waiting tongue.

You whine when the spit connects with your tongue and he grunts, “Don’t swallow,” before kissing you again, tongue swirling confidently around yours even as a mix of your saliva drips down your chin and onto your chest. He’s quick to act, leaning down and dragging his tongue up the trail of spit before connecting your lips again in a more heated, desperate kiss that slowly takes your breath away. It’s wet, and hot, and messy and sloppy and everything you could have wanted from him and more as he leans in, pressing into you and leaning you back onto your mattress.

Jaemin seems to be done assisting Haechan, as he returns to eating you out with a renewed fervor and, as Haechan kisses down your body to your breasts, it dawns on you that they might be competing for your attention.

With every swirl of Haechan’s tongue around your nipple, Jaemin echoes the action around your clit, their synchronization sending you spiraling into a frenzy. When Jaemin flicks your clit back and forth with his tongue before taking it into his mouth to suck, Haechan does the same to your breast, lapping at your nipple eagerly before sucking on the sensitive bud.

“Fuck—” you hiss, realizing—perhaps a moment too late—that you may have bitten off more than you can chew as you let the two sexually frustrated males have their way with your body.

Before long, you feel that tightening sensation in your stomach as your climax approaches, and you whimper in lieu of a verbal warning, Jaemin picking up on your cue instantly and diving back into your core with an eagerness that both startles and delights you. With another well-timed suck at your clit, you’re climaxing with a cry of pleasure and a full body tremor as you curl in on yourself.

Before you’ve even recovered from your high, Jaemin’s pressing on your stomach to keep you in place as he resumes lapping at your core, his tongue gliding with ease against and between your slick folds.

“Fuck—Jaemin, it’s sensitive—” you moan, squirming away from his touch, but he ignores you, two fingers prodding at your entrance before slowly easing their way in. “Oh, shit—”

“That’s it, just take it, princess,” Jaemin coos, swirling sinful circles around your clit as his fingers move in and out of you slowly. “Feel so good around my fingers like that, angel.”

“Can I—” Haechan swallows thickly before continuing, “Can I fuck your tits?” Before you can answer, he adds, “Please?” fully laden with desperation and you can’t even fathom saying no to him—so you don’t, instead nodding and watching his face light up with excitement.

He rushes to pull off his pants as if you’ll change your mind at any moment, and when he pulls his boxers down, his fully erect length springs up, girthy and long with an upwards curve. You watch with fascination as he straddles just below your chest, laying his length between your breasts and pushing them together with a groan.

With his eyes locked on your breasts and where his length disappears between them, he starts to move, slowly fucking himself on your breasts. His gasps and whimpers are both adorable and arousing, his fingers greedily clutching the mounds of flesh as his thumbs swipe over your nipples rhythmically.

Apparently dissatisfied with the sensation, Haechan pauses, smearing his precum over your chest and pauses thoughtfully before leaning forward and letting several large droplets of saliva drip down from his tongue to your breasts, the clear liquid landing on either side of his cock and slowly sliding down the insides of your breasts to coat his length. “That’s more like it,” he grunts, and resumes fucking your cleavage, his eyes rolling back into his head at the sensations, his length gliding between your breasts with ease.

Meanwhile, Jaemin curls his fingers inside of you, fucking them into you quickly and mercilessly as you cry out in pleasure. His tongue keeps swirling around and flicking at your clit, massaging your little bundle of nerves as his fingertips fuck into your other patch of nerves along your inner walls that has you seeing fireworks.

“God, that feels so good,” you whimper out, and Jaemin nods vigorously, tongue messily gliding along your folds with every movement of his head.

“Mm, I know, princess—tastes so good, too.” he purrs, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to peek past Haechan at Jaemin, noting fondly that his glasses have almost completely fogged up.

Haechan shoves his glasses up his nose hurriedly with one hand, mumbling something about wanting to see better, before he speeds up, small moans leaving him as he approaches his high.

Jaemin digs his tongue into your core, greedy muscle slurping up your arousal as it gushes from your hole, and you moan loudly, walls clenching desperately around the intrusion. His fingers slide up and down your slit, parting your folds, and he uses the combination of your slick and his spit to lube up his fingers for when he presses them to your asshole. He chuckles darkly when you squeal and squirm, fingers pushing into your tight rim without pause.

“You can take it, right, princess?” he coos, and you nod, panting, even though you’re not sure he can see you. “That’s it, pretty, just like that. So fun to play with,” he murmurs, the last part almost sounding like it’s to himself as he moves his fingers inside of you, tongue gliding up and down to swirl around your clit and your entrance teasingly.

“So good,” Haechan moans, still using your breasts to stroke his length. “Wanna cum—fuck, you’re so hot—gonna cum, pretty—where d’you want it?”

You find that you can barely form thoughts, let alone words, so, in lieu of a verbal response, you open your mouth, tongue dropping out slowly, and he moans again, this one higher and audibly overwhelmed before he thrusts his cock faster between your breasts, the tip of his length occasionally rubbing against your tongue. With a low groan, Haechan cums, abdomen tensing as he pants his way through his climax. He releases onto your waiting tongue, one spurt of cum landing on your cheek and bottom lip.

He admires the sight of you with his release painting your face and swipes up the stray seed with his finger, pushing it into your mouth and groaning when your lips wrap around it and suck it clean.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs reverently, shuffling down your body to kiss you sloppily, tongue swirling around the inside of your mouth to taste himself.

Looking behind himself, Haechan takes one look at Jaemin’s fingers diving in and out of your core, slick arousal and Jaemin’s saliva dripping from your entrance, and groans, rushing to get off of the bed and shove Jaemin out of place none too gently to take his place between your legs and study your glistening core, eyes roving over how your entrance is still clenching reflexively around nothing and how your clit twitches with every clench, both overstimulated and in search of something more.

You’re barely done with coming down from your last high when Haechan moans loudly, at his limit, and buries his face between your legs, tongue delving into your folds as you squirm and whimper.

“Haechan, holy shit—” you gasp, squirming away from him, but he just winds his wiry arms around your thighs and tugs you back to the edge of the bed, roughly massaging your clit with his tongue. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, slow down—”

“Tastes so good,” Haechan moans, gaze flicking up to look at you. His hair is all messed up from the numerous times your legs closed around his head and his glasses are fogged up with the heat radiating from your body and his heavy panting, but you can clearly see a wild look in his eyes, his gaze hungrily drinking in the sight of you in front of him. “Don’t wanna stop—don’t make me stop—please—”

“Haechan, baby, please take it easy,” you pant, but Haechan pays you absolutely no mind, his thick tongue slithering into your entrance and drawing out a sharp whine from you as you struggle to sit up, trying the whole while to swat his head away so you can catch your breath.

Your hand barely clutches at a lock of Haechan’s hair before Jaemin’s pulling your hands behind your back and settling you against his chest, his incredibly strong and firm grip leaving you stuck in place as Haechan has his way with your pussy.

“Let him have his fun,” Jaemin purrs in your ear as Haechan laps at your entrance before stuffing his tongue back in as far as it’ll go. “Can’t tell you how long he’s been waiting for this moment.”

“But—” you whimper, walls clenching helplessly around Haechan’s greedy tongue.

“Doesn’t that feel so good, princess?” Jaemin coos fondly, lips brushing the shell of your ear. You turn your head slightly to look at him with pleading eyes in the hopes he’ll have mercy, but he just chuckles, moving both your wrists to one of his hands before cupping your chin with the other and tilting your face back to his to connect your lips in a slow, passionate, deeply overwhelming kiss.

You can taste your arousal on his tongue as well as a hint of the gum he was chewing earlier, and you keen weakly into the kiss, sloppily moving your mouth with his as Haechan slurps your arousal eagerly before he sucks your clit into his mouth, presses it between his lips, and moans loudly, the vibrations mixed with all of the lewd noises making you hurtle towards yet another high.

“Oh, shit—” you cry out against Jaemin’s lips as Haechan tongue-fucks you to another orgasm, his blunt nails digging into the flesh of your thighs as he claws at you in a desperate attempt to keep you against his mouth. Jaemin’s hand leaves your chin and moves to grope your breast, his large hand kneading and massaging the flesh and tugging at your nipple as he dots slow, wet kisses down your neck and shoulder.

“Could stay down here forever,” Haechan grunts, and your eyes widen even in their exhausted, drained state as you start to struggle against Jaemin’s grip and fight to close your legs.

“Please leave my poor clit alone,” you plead, finally wrenching one of your hands free from Jaemin’s clutches and clapping it over your core protectively. Haechan barely even pauses, just starts licking at your fingers with desperate little moans and grunts. “Can one of you please just fuck me?”

They both go stiff, looking at each other wordlessly, before Jaemin releases you completely and switches spots with Haechan, maneuvering his length out of his sweats and boxers, and oh—

“You’re big, too,” you mumble in surprise, and he arches an eyebrow with a smirk.

“Did you think it was going to be small?”

“Well, no, but I definitely didn’t think it’d be that big.” you mutter, and he snickers, lifting your hips to push you further back on the bed. He spreads your legs wider and looks at your core, eyes roving over your glistening folds and inner thighs with such unadulterated desire that you’re tempted to close your legs out of embarrassment.

“Haechan got you nice and wet for me, yeah?” he murmurs, pumping his fist up and down his cock slowly before slapping the underside of his length on your poor, hypersensitive clit and grinning when you jolt from the stimulation. “Think you can take all of me, princess?”

“Only one way to find out,” you reply breathlessly, and he laughs, nodding in agreement.

“You’re right about that,” he grunts as he pushes into you. Both of you react instantly; his jaw clenches while yours drops, and he sucks in a deep breath through his nose as a breathy half-whimper, half-sigh escapes you.

Haechan watches you two with rapt attention, eyes flicking from your face to your breasts to where Jaemin’s length is slowly disappearing into you.

“Sweet pussy’s sucking me right in, princess,” Jaemin drawls with a smug grin. “Wanted this that badly, huh?”

“Shut—up—” you gasp as he bottoms out, the absolutely full-to-the-brim sensation dizzying and overwhelming and delicious all at once.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jaemin obliges, brows knitting together as he pulls out slowly and thrusts back in with a quick snap of his hips. You cry out in pleasure and the corner of his mouth quirks upward in smug satisfaction and amusement before he does it again… and again… and again until he’s built up a steady rhythm, every thrust punctuated by a plaintive moan from you.

His hands glide over everywhere he can reach before seeking purchase in your hips, fingertips digging into the flesh there as he drives his length into you.

“You love this, don’t you?” Jaemin coos as Haechan presses your breasts together and wraps his lips around one nipple, sucking as he tugs at the other bud. “You gonna tell your friends how good we fucked you?”

“Mm—yes,” you pant, and Jaemin grins.

“Gonna tell ‘em that two little nerds from your Biology class fucked you stupid, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, nodding vigorously. “Mm-hmm—”

“Thought so,” he replies with a dark chuckle before draping one of your legs over his shoulder, angling his hips toward it, and fucking intently into a spot that, you realize after the burst of pleasure from his first thrust, must be your g-spot.

“Ho–ly shit,” you gasp, clutching at Haechan for something you can use to brace yourself. Jaemin’s thrusts send him into you nice and deep and you’re slowly but surely losing your mind with every stroke, your mouth falling open in a silent gasp as he fucks into you. Your fingers catch Haechan’s thigh once more, clutching onto the warm flesh in an attempt to ground yourself.

Haechan groans and responds by swirling his tongue around your nipple slowly before flicking it back and forth quickly, using a finger to replicate his actions on your other breast.

“Please—fuck—I’m gonna cum—” you warn Jaemin, and he nods eagerly, letting a hand drag across your body from your hip to your clit, thumb sliding between your messy, wet folds to reveal the sensitive button between them. You inhale sharply when he starts to rub it in circles with the same thumb, fingertips resting lightly on your stomach as if he’s not driving you absolutely insane. “Oh, my God—cumming—I’m cumming—!”

“Me too, princess,” he groans, his hips speeding up as he chases after his own high. You climax first, letting out a drawn out whine, with Jaemin following shortly after, the male burying his length in you and pumping you full of his cum as he groans in pleasure under his breath.

“My turn,” Haechan grunts as Jaemin pulls out of you, both males watching as milky white cum drips from your entrance. “That’s so fucking hot,” Haechan mumbles in awe before reaching for your hands to gently guide you to a sitting position. “Can you ride me, pretty?”

“If my legs don’t give out,” you mumble, and he chuckles, sitting against where your bed meets the wall and patting his lap invitingly. You carefully straddle his lap, fingers wrapping around the thick head of his length as you guide his tip to your entrance and start to ease down onto him. Haechan gapes up at you, prompting you to coo affectionately. “Do you mind if I do it myself?” you ask sweetly as you sink down on it further, your nipple grazing his lips as you move against him, and he shakes his head emphatically, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose slightly. “Good,” you praise softly. “You’re not going to cum early, are you?” you ask with a small frown, and Haechan shakes his head again, the glasses sliding further and further down his nose. You gently push the glasses up, and he smiles appreciatively, tongue darting out to lick at your nipple while it’s near his mouth.

“Feels amazing,” he moans, and you smile fondly. You didn’t get a chance to see his length in all its glory, but you can definitely feel every thick inch of his cock as it stretches you open. He’s not quite as long as Jaemin, but he makes up for it in girth, his length barely fitting in your fist as you finish settling down on him.

When you’ve finally managed to fit all of his girthy length inside of you, you lift up slightly, rocking your hips forward for more friction, and Haechan moans out loudly, leaning forward to suck your nipple into his mouth. He cups your breasts, holding them up and together, and alternates running his tongue over both buds, occasionally sucking on a nipple with a low moan of satisfaction.

“More,” Haechan gasps out.

“More?” you ask, confused and lightheaded from all the pleasure you’re receiving.

“Yeah—need you to move faster,” he grunts through gritted teeth, and you suck your teeth.

“You wanted me on top when I told you my legs might give out—” you start to protest, and he pulls your face to his, kissing you to shut you up.

“Need it like this,” Haechan growls under his breath, swiftly maneuvering you two around so you’re lying on your back and he’s on his knees on the bed between your legs. “Hold these for me?” he asks, pressing your knees as close to your chest as they’ll go. As you tentatively hug your legs to your chest, Haechan spreads your folds apart with two fingers, sucking in a loud breath at the sight before he spits directly on your core, a gasp escaping you at the sensation of the warm saliva dripping down your folds.

He rests the underside of his cock on your clit, slowly rocking his hips forward to drag his thick length against your clit, and chuckles when you keen with pleasure.

“You’re so nasty,” Haechan sighs the words like you’re his dream come true, and based on the way his face contorts when he pushes into you, you just might be. He wastes no time, drilling into you at a quick, ruthless pace that has you moaning mindlessly with literally no idea what’s coming out of your mouth. “So fucking nasty for letting me do this to you,” he grunts, brows furrowed as one hand cups your chin. “Open.”

You oblige, tongue lolling out without being asked, and he grins, leaning over you and letting more saliva drip from his mouth to your waiting tongue. Haechan dips down lower, maintaining his thrusts as he messily moves his lips against yours, his tongue and spit getting everywhere, and he whines desperately into the kiss, his hand moving from your chin to between your legs where he starts to toy with your poor clit.

A choked wail of overstimulation slips from you before you can even process it, and Haechan silences you by kissing you again, mumbling, “I can’t believe you’re letting me do this to you—perfect little fuckdoll—gonna fuck you so full of cum, gonna breed you—”

“Holy shit—breed me, yes, breed me—” you pant, nodding eagerly, and you might be imagining it, but Haechan’s thrusts seem to get impossibly deeper like he genuinely might take you up on that offer.

“Gonna breed you, pretty girl—stuff you full of my cum—give you a fucking baby—make you all mine—”

“Want it—Haechan, please—yours, I’m yours—” you can barely keep up with his heated dialogue, your eyes rolling back into your head in ecstasy as you fall apart on his length.

Haechan’s lips seal over yours, tasting your desperate cries as he fucks you foolish, making a weak, overwhelmed moan come from you and your body produce a deep, full-body shudder that travels as pleasure races through you, electrifying your bloodstream.

Haechan isn't far behind, his tongue playing with yours almost lazily as his thrusts slow to a stop before he buries himself in you, emptying his seed into you and filling you with an impossibly large load of cum. He groans against your lips, slowly pulling out to the tip and staring down at how his length is coated with a blend of all of your cum with a deep-seated satisfaction.

“Holy shit,” he pants, flopping onto his back. “That was incredible.”

“You’re telling me,” you laugh. “Where did you two learn all that?”

“We watch a lot of porn.” Jaemin says, sheepish for the first time.

“And it taught you all of that?” you remark, incredulous.

“It taught us more, too,” Haechan adds, leaning over you with a grin. “Wanna see?”

“So, you’re telling me those two nerds from your class dicked you down… and they did it well?” Jimin remarks over your lunch in the cafeteria, eyes wide, and you scowl at her.

“Their names are Haechan and Jaemin.” you correct her, and she chuckles sheepishly. “But yes, they may have been the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Well, who would’ve thought…” Jimin comments, her expression thoughtful, and you snap loudly to get her attention. “What?”

“Those two are mine now. You can’t have them.” you state, and she frowns.

“Both of them? Aren’t you greedy?”

You shrug. “Don’t care. Mine.”

“What if they find out you’re actively laying a claim to them? Hm? Aren’t you supposed to be helping them get girls?” Jimin points out, and you frown slightly before pulling your phone out and scrolling through your messages before pressing the “Dial” button. “Who are you calling?”

“Shh.” you say distractedly, placing the call on speakerphone and waiting patiently as it rings once, twice, then stops, the other person on the line picking up. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Haechan greets, sounding slightly concerned. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you assure him. “Is Jaemin with you?”

“Yeah, he’s right here—did you wanna talk to him?” he asks.

“Both of you, actually. Can he hear me?”

“Hi, princess,” Jaemin calls through the phone, and Jimin’s brows lift in surprise.

“Princess?” she mouths at you, and you smile, nodding.

“Hi, Jaemin. I just wanted to ask you guys a question.”

“Shoot,” Haechan says with audible wariness in his voice.

“You’re both… mine, right?” you say carefully, and Haechan sucks in a sharp breath before you hear a thudding noise. “Haechan?”

“I’m here!” he squawks, sounding slightly far away. There’s a rustling noise, and then his voice comes in clearer. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you chuckle. “What happened?”

“He dropped the phone because he’s an idiot.” Jaemin calls out, and you laugh as Haechan shushes him forcefully.

“An answer to my question would be nice, you know.” you tease lightly.

“I’m yours if you want me to be,” Jaemin replies smoothly, and you smile even though they can’t see you.

“Honestly, I’m yours even if you don’t.” Haechan adds, and your smile only widens as you shoot Jimin an “I told you so” glance.

“That’s good to hear.” you reply, your smile creeping into your voice, and Haechan clears his throat pointedly. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, are you ours?” Haechan asks hopefully, and you look over at Jimin as you reply.

“Absolutely.”

“Oh, thank God.” he mumbles, and you giggle.

“So, I’m guessing you two are done with your lessons on how to get girls?” you suppose, nibbling your bottom lip nervously.

“Yeah,” Haechan confirms, and you’re surprised by just how relieved you are. “We got the only girl that matters.”

“You’re too cute.” you chuckle. “Wanna come over later?”

“Yes—” Haechan blurts out before composing himself to say, “yes, absolutely.”

“Good. Six sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” he sighs happily. “See you then, pretty.”

“Bye, baby,” you coo into the phone, and his excited squeal is quiet but unmistakable. “Bye, other baby.”

“Bye, princess. See you at six.” Jaemin calls out, and you smile widely before hanging up and smiling proudly at Jimin.

“My boys didn’t disappoint me.” you remark, pleased, and Jimin huffs petulantly.

“Man. I’m happy for you, but I wish I had two cute nerds at my beck and call.”

“Stop calling them nerds,” you correct, and she rolls her eyes.

“Wish I had two cute guys at my beck and call.” she amends her statement, and you smile, satisfied.

“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky, huh?” you muse, and Jimin sighs, a smile curling at her lips.

“Yeah… would you ever wanna share?” she asks with a wiggle of her brows. “Ow! There was no need to flick me.”

“There was every need. Avert your eyes from my men, you lustful wench.”

“Lustful wench? You’re horrible. And greedy! And selfish. Just horrible and greedy and selfish.” she complains, and you shrug, uncaring as you compose a text to your new… boyfriends?

you have created a group message. you have named the group message “power throuple.” you [17:05pm] hi boyfies :) haechan [17:07pm] boyfies…. i’m weak in the knees jaemin [17:08pm] haechan stand up jaemin [17:08pm] hi baby girl you loved “hi baby girl” haechan [17:10pm] why would i stand up if i could lie down and have our pretty girlfriend sit on my face? 😁 you [17:11pm] you’re bolder over text, huh? haechan [17:12pm] can you blame me? have you seen yourself? you [17:12pm] i have… haechan [17:13pm] so you know how good you look. don’t judge me when i can’t get my words out in person you [17:15pm] i happen to find it cute when you can’t get your words out jaemin [17:16pm] i find it cute when YOU can’t get your words out you [17:16pm] and when would that be? jaemin [17:17pm] don’t tell me you’ve forgotten so soon… you [17:17pm] i have :( maybe i need a reminder? jaemin liked your message “i have :( maybe i need a reminder?” jaemin [17:18pm] maybe we should come over earlier to jog your memory you [17:20pm] maybe you should. how about 5:45? jaemin liked your message “maybe you should. how about 5:45?” haechan liked your message “maybe you should. how about 5:45?” you [17:22pm] great!! it’s a date :)

“What am I, chopped liver?” Jimin complains as you giggle down at your phone.

“Sorry… and I’m even more sorry for having to cut this short.” you apologize sheepishly as you start to gather your things.

“You’re kidding…” Jimin remarks, incredulous. “Flat-leaver!”

“I’ll text you after everything,” you assure her, stuffing your notebook in your bag and your phone in your bag’s front pocket. “Gotta go get ready!”

“You’re the worst.” she huffs, but there’s a smile on her face as she rolls her eyes. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“Rawr.” You make a claw with your fingers, and she stops short, blinking at you with a blank expression. “Too much?”

“Never do that again.”

You nod in understanding. “Copy.”

tadaaaaa i hope you enjoyed! if you liked it, please shoot me an ask or write something nice in the tags :D i love (positive) feedback!

#haechan smut #jaemin smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #haechan x reader #jaemin x reader #na jaemin smut #lee donghyuck smut #donghyuck smut #lee haechan smut

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nereidprinc3ss · 7 months ago

Text

do you believe me now? | 7

in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader sleep together for the first time

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: loss of virginity, oral f/m receiving, so much praise, pain during sex, unprotected sex, cr**mp**, bit of overstim, soft dom spence, if u don't like that freak shit (love and intimacy) this is not for u, spencer is a nerd, they're both nerds actually and that factors in heavily, you may get more from this part by FIRST reading how they met in this bonus chapter a/n: thank you all for being patient, ilysm, this was the most laborious thing i've ever done for no reason and also this part changed so many times and is not what i expected it to be so pls go in with tempered expectations and keep in mind that this story is more about the characters and their specific relationship dynamic than just being porn. i truly have no idea how you guys will react to this but i sincerely hope you love it and them like i do<3 also it's twice as long as the other parts so feedback would be very very appreciated! again i love u all and enjoy the penultimate part!

Spencer’s lips are on yours, and you weren’t expecting it—hell, you weren’t expecting him to be in your apartment. After all, he’d wished you goodnight and walked out only a moment ago.

“Spencer—wh—”

But he’s insistent with his lips, kissing you bruisingly over and over like there’s nectar on your tongue and he’s parched for you. Still, he has enough decency to not completely ignore you, exhaling a quick excuse over your flushed lips.

“I missed you.”

This time, though, you dodge his hungry kiss. Part of you thinks, as he watches you, eyes alight and breathing heavily, that he sort of likes your playing hard to get. It’s not something you do very often, admittedly.

“We’ve been apart for like, maybe a minute.”

“I didn’t even make it to the parking lot.”

Your face heats.

“Well you can’t just—you can’t just walk in like that! And I thought you said we weren’t supposed to mix fighting with pleasure.”

“Then start locking your door. And I thought you said we weren’t fighting.”

You roll your eyes in response, though your heart is still pittering in your chest.

At least his hands move to your arms, stroking up and down relatively chastely—although he has this way of making everything seem intimate. Especially when paired with those amber eyes of his—glowing like a candlelight beacon in the window guiding you home. He speaks in low, appeasing tones and darts his tongue over his lips.

“I originally said it’s a bad idea for couples to sleep together after an argument. But you know—makeup sex is ubiquitous across culture and time because it works. Anger and arousal trigger a lot of the same hormones, specifically norepinephrine which is involved in feelings of longing and—”

“Spencer.”

“You know what else?” He mutters in a way that feels dangerous. “It tends to feel better than regular sex.”

That earns a shaky exhale from you. Whether from irritation or arousal is anyone’s guess—probably a combination of both.

“So you came back to fuck me?”

It’s probably evident to Spencer from your choice of language that this already isn’t going exactly as he’d planned. He doesn’t answer right away—just regards you, gaze bouncing between your two eyes like he’s trying to calculate your level of anger.

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You push him away and move to walk down the hall.

“Maybe your window of opportunity has passed.”

A warm hand wraps around your wrist in the dark of the hallway and he pulls you back until you’re falling against something tall and warm and lean. The smell of polished amber and sandalwood overwhelms your senses.

“What’s wrong, angel? What happened in the minute I was gone to change your mind?” His voice is scratchy like a favorite record. It’s the voice he could hold you captive with. The one you have a very difficult time saying no to.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, unintentionally leaning back against him. “What happened to change yours?”

His response comes pressed against your ear, half-lost in your hair.

“You’re upset that I changed my mind. I thought you wanted this, honey.”

“I do,” you admit, letting your head fall back against his shoulder and bringing his arm to wrap around you. “And if you hadn’t walked out earlier I would’ve done it. But… I’m tired of us doing everything on your timeline. You just… you expect me to be amenable to what you want, constantly.” His nose and lips press into your shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I’ve been begging you to sleep with me for I don’t even know how long. And you keep changing your mind, and I feel like you’re being really confusing about it. Obviously you don’t have to sleep with me, you never did, but I just feel kind of… jerked around. And you did it again tonight.”

A beat of silence.

“I understand your frustration,” he appeases, securing both his arms around you. You cling weakly to his wrist, to his warmth, like he’s a tether in a storm. “Would you prefer to wait until you initiate it?”

“No. Yes! I don’t know,” you huff, disentangling yourself from his arms and continuing toward your bedroom. “Now I’m annoyed at you again.”

He follows you right through the door.

“Just tell me what to do! I don’t want to be annoying.”

“I can’t. I’m being unreasonable.” You flick on your adjoining bathroom light and examine yourself in the mirror. Yeesh. The eye makeup situation is abysmal after all the crying that has taken place over the course of the evening.

“So choose to be reasonable and tell me what you want from me. I’ll give it to you.”

You frown at your reflection, pushing your hair back and rubbing at some excess mascara.

“No, you’re not understanding me. I’m not choosing to be unreasonable. My thought process regarding the situation is inherently unreasonable and there’s nothing I can do about it because it’s just the way I feel.”

“The feeling being that I’ve been too domineering over how our sexual relationship has unfolded?”

Spencer watches you in the bathroom mirror, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed as you tip some makeup remover onto a reusable cotton pad. You try not to check him out as you nod, but it’s impossible—with his sleeves rolled up to show defined forearms cradled in capable hands, and his hair all messy.

When he pushes off the wall you freeze, unsure of his next move—until he’s gently spinning you around and taking the bottle and cloth from your hands.

“Maybe it would help,” he begins, soft as he focuses on the new task, carefully bringing the round to your right eye so he can remove the bleeding mascara. You allow your eyes to flutter shut. “If I remind you why I’ve been so hesitant.”

“Because you hate giving me joy.”

He laughs, nothing more than one huff from his nose.

“You’re spoiled and we both know it.”

Point taken, as he gently wipes your makeup away for you. Your silence is his cue to continue.

“Everything I said about worrying that you would regret choosing me is true. It was especially true when I thought you felt lukewarm toward me. And all of that confusing stuff I said in the phone is true too—having sex for the first time is incredibly intimate and weird and sometimes scary. If you’re not 100% sure about your partner, or if you think your feelings are unrequited, it’s hard to be completely comfortable in such a vulnerable situation and your likelihood of getting hurt or having regrets skyrockets. I know that from experience. I wanted better for you than what I got. Still, I know it was wrong to project my feelings about the significance of sex onto you. In that regard, you’re right. I was being domineering, and I guess… I guess to an extent I’m still deflecting. I shouldn’t be trying to pretend like it’s about you when in reality I mostly just didn’t want to get hurt again. I didn’t want to go through that again, and that’s okay, but I shouldn’t have made you feel like it was something you could have changed.”

You try to process that.

“Go through what?” You whisper hoarsely. Something about having him at such close range while he takes such care with you feels whisper-y.

“Sleeping with someone who didn’t love me back.”

Your reply is small.

“Oh. Right.”

How could anyone not love him back?

Spencer’s reply is simple and kind, without a hint of, obviously you dumb bitch—which is pretty much what you’re thinking to yourself.

“Does that make sense, lovely? Do you understand why I wanted to wait?”

He lets you ponder for a while in comfortable-enough silence as he finishes removing your eye makeup with a characteristically gentle hand. When you open your eyes, he looks genuinely content, screwing the lid back on the bottle as if he’s got an eternity to wait for your answer.

“Yeah. That part makes sense. But why did you seem so… I don’t know, like, wishy-washy about it?”

Spencer’s eyes dart up to meet yours, brows slightly raised. Then a small laugh bubbles up from somewhere inside him.

“Because I’m obsessed with you. I thought about you like that constantly. I still do.”

Your breath catches at the casual admission.

“Oh.”

Spencer hums, setting the bottle down before tenderly thumbing away some excess mascara that he must have missed from under your eye.

“You didn’t think it was easy for me, did you?”

“Well… kind of,” you admit, tracking his eyes until they meet yours.

“Not sleeping with you has been among the hardest things I’ve ever done. Especially when you started begging me. That first time, when I picked you up from Penelope’s and you asked me why we hadn’t had sex yet…”

He trails off, still rubbing at your cheek as he loses himself in thought.

Eventually, you grow impatient, prompting, “what?”

“It’s not a nice thought.”

“Well, you have to tell me now,” you insist.

He half smiles, thumb straying to your lips.

“It was just… you had no idea what you were talking about, and you were ready to throw a tantrum in my living room until I gave you what you thought you wanted. Part of me was imagining bending you over the couch right then, since you thought you were so ready.”

It feels like someone has snipped the pulley that keeps your stomach in place.

“Spencer,” you splutter, convinced your cheek is tangibly heating under his touch as your head reels at the revelation that he could have such a deeply dirty and mildly sinister mind.

“I told you it wasn’t nice.”

You swallow.

“Is that… is that still what you want?”

His brows flicker again and he tucks hair behind your ear.

“To bend you over my couch? No.”

Your face warms even more and you turn to leave the bathroom, sick of his teasing.

“Okay, goodni—”

“Hold on.” Spencer catches you by your waist and pulls you back into him for the second time tonight. A dangerous smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “I know what you meant. And no, I don’t want to bend you over my couch.” He laughs, slipping a hand under your shirt to rub your back. “You know what I want. I’m more interested in learning what you want.”

“I want…” Your eyes dance between his, and your heart flutters against the confines of your chest as you realize what you’ve wanted for so long is finally yours for the taking. “I want to stop talking about it.”

His expression neutralizes and you know it’s probably intentional to stop whatever feelings you assume him to be having color your decision.

“Oh?”

“I just think we’ve talked about it enough.”

Before he can say another word, or ask you another question, you kiss him with such passion there’s no way he can doubt how much you want this.

Only a moment passes before he allows himself to lean into it, cupping your face between reverent hands and taking control of the pace of the kiss, slowing it down until you can hardly breathe. Your little noise of want has him quickening the process, pressing against you until you’re walking backward out of the bathroom. It’s like the first crack in a dam. After that, everything becomes inevitable.

Your knees hit the back of the bed and you sit down hard on the mattress, smiling up at him. You skim the front of his thighs with your palms as he smooths your hair.

Spencer groans, leaning down and kissing you til you’re on your back.

“Don’t make that face.”

An affronted huff from you breaks the kiss up and he pulls back to study your expression.

“What do you mean don’t make that face? I was just smiling at you.”

“I know you were. And you have such a pretty smile it makes me feel guilty about… defiling you.”

Your brows flicker up and your mouth drops open with an affronted scoff.

“Watch yourself. I’ll defile you.”

“You already have,” he admits with a half-laugh as he kisses you again. “My mind was never this dirty before we met.”

“Hm. Tell me you like my smile.”

He pauses and then chuckles dryly against your mouth.

“I love your smile. You’re gorgeous. Any more demands?”

Pleased, you shake your head and pull him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Not currently.”

“Really?” he murmurs, trailing kisses over your cheek and down your jaw, “I’d do just about anything you asked me right now. You don’t want to take advantage of that?”

The sensation of his lips just below your ear threatens all rational thought in your brain, but you manage a reply with only a slight delay and a hint of a waver coloring your tone.

“I shouldn’t have to demand things. You should just know to do them.”

His kisses drag lower, warm and unhurried and you’re trying not to let your hyper-sensitivity from going a week completely untouched show—but you doubt he misses the way your breath catches, or the barely audible squeaks, or the arch of your back or the tightening grip on his shirt.

“Well, for future reference—” he nips at a sensitive spot and you gasp quietly, even as you tilt your head to offer him more access. More room to bite, if he so chooses. “—I happen to enjoy it when you make demands of me. Especially when those demands entail letting me call you pretty.”

“I’ve never not let you call me pretty before,” you huff. It’s a touchy subject, and Spencer can probably sense your hackles rising, but he has you right where he wants you and so he pushes anyway.

“No. But you never believe me. We’ve had this conversation. You always act like I’m walking you to the gallows when I compliment you.”

It’s hard to make a defense when he’s leaning his weight onto one arm so he can unbutton your jeans, when he’s looking down at you with sparkling onyx and scorched-earth eyes like you’re something to be consumed. But not violently, no—ardently. Like fruit heavy on the vine. Like you’re a religious rite to the devout and deluded. A sacrament.

But it’s not a blind passion. Spencer knows you; every inch of you and every loose thread on your soul begging to be pulled. He knows you and he still wants you like this. To be perfectly honest, you’d never thought you’d feel comfortable handing yourself over to someone like this—vulnerable and all your layers of armor shed. Never in your life would you have thought you could trust a person so implicitly that you’d hand them a knife and show them exactly where to press, that you’d say, I know once you open me and you see me you’ll not want to change a thing.

You adore him. Cosmically. Enormously. In every dimension. He’s lodged so deep in your heart you have no choice but to love him eternally.

It’s deep in the midst of all these very profound revelations that you realize Spencer has stalled with your zipper undone. His hand has strayed to your hip, to sweetly push your shirt up and trace love letters into warmed and downy skin with his thumb.

“I just wish you could see yourself how I see you,” he says softly, the weight of the truth a strain on his vocal cords.

Sometimes, he is so kind it’s like a punch to your stomach. You’ve never been quite as kind as him. And nobody’s ever been as kind to you as he is. You’ve done nothing to deserve his kindness, but you know he needs a place for it, and you’re here with open arms.

He studies you a moment longer, swallowing as his eyes trail over your face and lower. You want to reach out and brush strands of caramel hair out of his face, but he seems to be thinking so hard you’re hesitant to distract him.

“I’ve never told you this, because I know you’d just shoot it down, but… you are genuinely the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met in my life.”

Something twinges in the depths of your stomach—the darker shades who live there and exist solely to whisper not enough not enough not enough to you every minute of every day.

But they’re simply not a match for the softness you find when you do reach out for his hair, or the way he looks at you. Spencer loosely wraps his fingers around your wrist—not a cuff, but an affectionate hold.

“Do you believe me?”

There’s so much earnest hope in his voice it almost jars you. He so badly wants you to understand how feels about you—he’s been trying to tell you for months and all you know how to do is refute his praise and insist on your worthlessness.

Ever since Spencer, you don’t see the faces on magazine covers or in superhero movies, no matter how mathematically flawless they are. Nobody gets close to being as beautiful as he is in your eyes. He’s in an entirely different echelon, and despite how you feel about yourself, you have to accept that he might feel the same about you.

“I do,” you say, equally soft, and 100% honest. You believe that he believes it, and that’s enough. It’s all that matters.

The shallow knit of his brow loosens. His lips ease into a suggestion of a smile. But it’s most visible in his eyes—the way smoldering coals reignite, melting the amber glass of his irises until they’re molten.

The way he kisses you then, you’d think you’d lassoed the moon and pulled it down from the sky for him. But apparently all it takes to make him incandescently, contagiously happy, is to accept a compliment.

There’s a renewed sense of urgency on his breath as he kisses you deeply and quick enough your heart is racing. It only goes faster when he remembers his previous task and begins tugging your jeans down, but he doesn’t even bother to pull them past your knees before his hand is creeping up your thigh. Goosebumps race each other across your body as you try to remember what it feels like—what he feels like. But you can’t, even as his thumb fans over your inner thigh and pushes it open, gently encouraging you to give him more access to you.

“You’re not wasting any time,” you breathe against him while he traces the edge of your underwear.

“Do you want me to slow down?”

Judging by the way the tips of his fingers only barely shy away from the fabric, he really wants the answer to be no. But you know in his searching gaze that he’d never push you.

“No, it’s fine. As long as we… don’t go this fast the whole time.”

“We won’t.” The hasty words are of lower priority than the next kiss he plants to your swollen lips. “We won’t. I just missed you so much.”

“Yeah?” You giggle airily as he drags his fingers over your clit through the material, trying to ignore the way it makes your head spin.

“Yes. Yeah.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, so… desperate for you, as he drops his lips to your neck and presses barely-there kisses everywhere he knows you’re sensitive. Just the feeling of his breath against your skin has you shivering. His hand between your legs only brushes your most nerve-dense spot, but a few touches in and you’re already wound up, like if Spencer doesn’t give you more soon you’ll burst. And not in the good way.

When he finally commits to actually kissing your neck, you squeak, warmth emanating from that spot just below your jaw all the way to your toes. The frantic energy of earlier is slowly melting away, and he loses focus with his hand, as it begins straying wider, stroking your hip, your inner thigh, your stomach. It’s like your nerve endings are on overdrive, delivering twice as much feedback to your brain as they normally would. Each touch feels like he’s conducting electricity over your body, like you’re a plasma ball. He’d probably like that analogy—you, a core of alternating voltage, and him, the conductor, tracing a path and giving all those electrons an easy release. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d tell Spencer you found a way to work Nikola Tesla into your mutual sex life, and he’d probably propose on the spot.

But that electricity is building fast—even more so when he drags his lips down just above your collarbone. Your breath hitches, simultaneously trying to crane your neck to give him more room, and curl into him so as to escape the stimulation. Finally he pulls away, and losing the softness of his mouth while the air feels so cold against the places he’d kissed almost hurts.

“You’re a mess,” he chuckles affectionately, raising his hand to brush hair away from your face before stroking the heated high point of your cheek. “What am I going to do with you?”

It’s teasing, but so low and gentle and honeyed it swirls your stomach.

“Whatever you want,” you admit quietly. It’s a shy confession more than it is a salacious flirtation because he already has you. And you want nothing more than for him to act on that in any way he so pleases. Whatever he does, it will be careful, and kind, and because he loves you. You know that no matter how he takes you apart—he’ll put you back together again.

“I don’t know if I can. You’re all jumpy.”

God, he has the prettiest smile—even when it’s twisted with sarcasm and a thin veneer of guilt, like he knows he shouldn’t be teasing and just can’t help himself.

“I’m not,” you defend, face heating further. “I’m not nervous. I don’t know what it is.”

That sticky sweet tone is back, pooling in his eyes and dripping all over you like nectar as he languidly looks you over.

“I didn’t say you were nervous. Just a little bit jumpy.”

It’s not accusatory—he’s simply stating a fact. Easy, gentle, designed to soothe.

You shrug helplessly and chew on your lip, unsure of how he wants you to respond. It’s definitely true that excited as you are, you’re slightly on edge. You feel taut as a string on a guitar, tense and waiting to be yanked at any second.

His expression is serene, and his thoughts inscrutable as he continues lavishing you with his eyes, down to where he’s lying over you and back up. His lips part, but he doesn’t speak for a moment as he formulates his words.

“Can we try something? There’s this tantric exercise that might help you relax.”

Your brows draw earnestly and you nod up at him, not requiring any convincing even though you have no idea what he’s talking about.

Spencer directs you to sit up, and you do—kicking your jeans all the way off so you can sit criss-cross with your hands braced on your ankles.

He’s next to you on the bed, at a slight angle, one of your knees in his lap. You blink at him.

“Now what?”

“Now you give me one of your hands,” he says, tone tinted with a hint of an amused smile, as if your impatience is funny to him. Of course it probably is.

Frowning only a little, you unlock your left arm and hold it out for him, watching curiously as he takes your one hand between his and flips it palm-up.

“Did you know,” Spencer begins, voice low and confidential, “that the fingertips are the second most sensitive part of the human body?”

“What’s the first?”

“Lips,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on your hand where he’s brushing the tips of your fingers light enough it almost tickles. “They’re both incredibly important for keeping you alive, which is why they’re one and two. But you’ll be particularly sensitive anywhere you’re vulnerable.” His words are trailing off as he brushes his thumb over your palm and to the delicate skin of your wrist. “Like here.”

His knuckles skim up your forearm, to the crook of your elbow.

“And especially here.”

You’re fascinated as he traces back down the length of your arm and over your inner-wrist, feather light. Then up once more, with the blunted edges of his nails, and your breath catches. You’ve never noticed how sensitive such an innocuous part of your body could be, but it has your stomach flipping—more so when he looses a breathy laugh. “You know, some people are actually able to reach orgasm just by light stimulation to this area.”

Your response is just as airy—you don’t recognize your voice when it comes out like that, hanging in the pitch black between you.

“Really?”

An affirmative hum from him, as he lifts your hand and places an intentional kiss over your pulse at the bend of your wrist. Your chest aches and heat is pooling in your stomach as his gently trails them up the delicate skin of your arm. Maybe you should be embarrassed by the reaction you’re having—after all, it’s just your arm. But he treats every part of you like it warrants love and attention and intimacy. Even the parts you typically ignore. Certainly parts you never considered to be sexually or romantically relevant. It’s dizzying. It’s like magic.

“Arms up,” Spencer finally directs, just as sweetly as he’s doing everything else, and helps you tug your shirt over your head. Every brush of fabric, every seam against your skin registers more than it normally would. Everything is heightened, and despite your state of undress you’re still warm. “Your neck is really sensitive, too. It’s the most commonly acknowledged erogenous zone.”

Erogenous zone. Of course this all comes back to biology.

“Tilt your head for me, honey.”

Utterly entranced and useless to not abide by him, you do so. Spencer brushes your hair over your shoulder, and if the slip of it down your back weren’t enough, the graze of his fingertips against the nape of your neck has you shivering.

The warmth of him at your throat feels completely brand new, despite having already had his lips there only minutes before. But now they ghost over your skin with a kind of novelty, and your own lips part in silent pleasure, head lolling to allow him greater access.

“Lie back.”

Without hesitation (but perhaps a bit sluggishly in your stupor) you obey, sliding down until you’re propped up only by pillows once more. Spencer takes his place propped above you once more, thighs slotted with yours as he quickly picks up where he left off.

The sweet kisses are perfect and feel so much better than you’d ever thought to notice before—but at the same time your core aches and there’s that pressure building again that’s starting to get to you.

“Spencer,” you try, and it comes out hoarse but you don’t care at all. “More.”

“You want me to leave marks?”

And the offer is so tempting you’ll wait a few more minutes to ask for what you really need, nodding semi-frantically and ‘mhm’-ing desperately.

As he gently latches onto a spot that will require concealer later but feels fantastic for now, one of his hands slips down your side, just barely letting his nails skim, and your back actually arches. It’s a shocking amount of stimulation for being nowhere near any sexual hotspots. That tiny caught breath dissolves as his fingers continue down just as lightly over your hip and thigh. Your muscles tense as you chase and run away from the feeling. It’s ridiculous.

There’s no point in trying to keep your eyes open now—they grow heavy and you let them fall shut as he sucks another love bite to your throat.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? It’s kind of weird.” He says, voicing your thoughts as he eventually decides the mark will be sufficiently dark.

“Yeah,” you agree, lacking all eloquence as he caresses every sensitive place you didn’t know you had and your hips writhe minutely in a little desperate dance of your own creation.

“Most people aren’t aware of the potential of the erogenous zones that aren’t actual sex organs. They don’t pay attention to them. You know what else is an interesting function of erotic stimulation to areas that aren’t directly involved in reproduction?”

“Hm,” you hum as his hand skims to your back. You lean into it and he promptly undoes your bra with a single hand—a skill you’re not even sure you have.

“It releases not quite as much oxytocin as an orgasm but more than sexual pleasure alone. So you’re less tense before sex than you usually would be, and you’re primed to build more trust and feel more connected with your partner during.”

God, he’s a nerd. And it’s so, so hot.

You roll over on your back again and look up at him through half-lidded eyes. The corner of his mouth flickers as he takes in your expression, before trailing downward, following the path his fingertips make over your skin as they tug the straps over your shoulders. Trying to stop him, to be shy, would be a pointless venture. He’s seen you like this and you want him to see you again.

A shaky exhale of his own brings a little smile to your face as he pulls your bra away and observes the newly bared skin with a hunger that you can feel.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, eyes cast pointedly down and thumb brushing over the side of your right breast.

“You mentioned.”

“I’m not allowed to say it again?” He teases, leaning down to kiss you soft. Your lips curve against his.

“You can say it as many times as you want.”

Spencer hums, finally thumbing over your breast’s sensitive peak. It sends a chill down your back and seeing as you’re already worked up to the point of near insanity, the pleasure from such a simple touch is much stronger than it would be otherwise.

“Good. Because I missed you a lot.”

After that, he doesn’t waste much time—only toying with your flesh for another minute as he kisses you before his hand is skimming down your abdomen and dipping below the waistband of your underwear.

“Please,” you whisper, tilting your hips toward him when he doesn’t move to touch you anymore.

“Please what?”

“Spencer, don’t.”

He smiles at this, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as his hand travels lower. Fingers slip between wet folds and he begins making the lightest of circles over your clit.

“You’ve probably been waiting long enough, huh? I should be nicer.”

Your answer is a breathy almost-whine as you seek more friction against his hand.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, pressing down harder. The sensation sends sparks down to your toes and you attempt to clamp your legs shut around his wrist. “These need to stay open,” Spencer chuckles, “or else I can’t help you.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” The words are a sweet sing-song against your cheek as he kisses you there, before hooking his fingers into the fabric of your underwear and pulling down. You try to help wiggle out of them as best you can, gasping when he tosses them away and immediately returns his hand between your legs. He dips his head down, tongue lathing over your breast, and teases you with the tip of one finger circling around your entrance.

“I need—”

“Shh. Let me worry about it.”

With that, he’s dipping his ring and middle fingers just barely inside of you to the first knuckle, then back out, before pushing a bit deeper, and repeating the cycle until they’re as far as they’ll go. When he slowly starts fucking you with them, still mouthing sweetly at your breast, you’re ready to melt.

The room is quiet except for your breathy mewls, the lewd, wet sound of his fingers inside of you, and the blood rushing in your ears. Soon your breast pops from between his lips and he finds somewhere else to leave his mark. Spencer is turning you into a work of art, with his fingers, with his mouth. You don’t mind at all. You’d let him sign his name, if he could—but you doubt he’d let you get his name tattooed.

Soon you stop fighting the perpetual tug of your lids down and let them flutter shut, loosing a freer moan as he brushes over that sweet spot inside you. Even when he’d told you how to find it over the phone, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like this—maddening enough to have your hips twisting again and that hot bed of coals in your tummy sparking.

“Spencer,” you warn, leg twitching as he stokes the fire beyond the point where you can passively enjoy it. Either he’s got to slow down or he’s got to let you burn all the way up. You practically jump when you feel his tongue flick over your clit—you hadn’t even been aware of his shifting positions. Maybe you’re more out of it than you’d previously thought. Your eyes shoot open and he does it again. “Oh, fuck.”

The words are simple, quiet, and apparently that’s not enough. Before you can even process the sensation of the tip of his tongue on you he’s latching onto your clit, suckling in a way that has your vision momentarily going out. You cry out and kick involuntarily, hips jumping up, but he captures your leg and presses you down into the mattress so no matter how much you squirm and squeak you can’t get away.

“Fuckfuckfuck, Spencer I wa—ah—sn’t ready—oh my god.”

He remembers his fingers deep inside you and begins rutting them and you hiss, inhaling sharply through your teeth before letting it all out in a tremulous moan. The orgasm is building up so quickly it almost feels like an attack on your poor body as you try to process it all to no avail. Every sound you make is a vulnerable mess of pleasure and pain, a clear fear of surrendering to something inevitable. Of course, it doesn’t really hurt at all. As usual, he’s blindsided you. Found you unprepared. You rake your fingers through Spencer’s hair, continuing on with your shaky moans that sound half-worried.

“Oh, please.” Really, you’re just pleading to be put out of your misery. It’s in moments like this, as the black is creeping in around the edges of your vision and your thoughts become threads in the tangle of an existence knotting in on itself with no discernible end or beginning in your mind until everything is completely abstract, that you’re reminded why the French refer to orgasm as the little death.

Your fingers lace tight enough in the wilds of his hair to pull, and he groans against you, and those vibrations are your undoing. You succumb to the dark momentarily but he continues a loving assault of gentle kisses to your clit—careful enough so as to be inoffensive even after the euphoria abates and you’re hypersensitive, still relishing soft strands of hair between your knuckles.

You’re breathing hard as you blink your vision back, looking down at him as he looks up at you from his place between your legs and rubs the top of your thigh.

“I wasn’t ready,” you pant, lips flashing into a tired smile that doesn’t hold a candle to his own livelier one.

“Took it like a champ.”

If you weren’t already so warm his sarcastic comment would inspire more heat in the apples of your cheeks.

“Dr. Spencer Reid using sports idioms?” You smile as he climbs back up your body.

“It’s unreasonably sexy that you said idiom and not simile.” He kisses you, grin mirroring yours, and you don’t complain about the slick still on his lips. “And look at that. Not afraid to kiss me when I taste like you anymore.”

“I remember what you said,” you whisper, eyes bouncing between his, glowing amber pools in the low light. The words echo in your head from the first time he’d gone down on you and you’d been hesitant to taste yourself.

One day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.

“So do I,” he points out needlessly. “Eerily prophetic, hm?”

“I think you just like going down on me,” you laugh.

Without the light on, his smile is just as brilliant as usual.

“You might be right about that.”

Another interlude of quiet begins, but you don’t mind it. Taking this slow, as desperate as you’ve been for it, feels nice. Easy. Waves of burning need ebb and flow, but for now, it feels nice to be bathed in his candlelight gaze, know you’re loved, and nothing else.

“What next?” You whisper after a long moment, lifting your hand to trace the line of his jaw. He leans into it slightly, lips brushing your palm.

“That’s up to you, angel. What’s going to make you feel most comfortable?”

Your bottom lip rolls between your teeth as you think and he tracks the movement, corner of his mouth twitching fondly.

“It might help if you weren’t fully clothed.”

“I think we could probably do something about that.”

He pecks the tip of your nose playfully and then he’s pushing off the bed. Your brow wrinkles as you follow suit only partially, sitting up with your legs folded under you and pulling the sheets over your body to combat the chill and the vulnerability of being completely naked.

“Oh, my god. You had your shoes on that whole time?”

“I got distracted,” Spencer defends, almost tripping over himself in his hurry to slip the loafers off.

You clutch the sheet to your chest, watching the adorable way he pushes his hair out of his face as he rushes. He’s so clearly excited—it shows in the flush of his cheek and his even worse than usual coordination.

“But on my bed?”

“I’m sorry,” he says without seeming very apologetic, leaning down to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger and pressing his lips to yours. “I’ll pay to have your comforter dry cleaned. I’ll buy you a new one. I don’t care.”

“How chivalrous.”

“I am,” he insists against your lips, shaped by what is surely a boyish smirk.

Unsurprisingly, you get lost in the kiss, dropping the sheet to hang onto his shoulders. Spencer takes advantage of the once-more revealed skin, rubbing your thigh with slow passes in a way that has you all lit up again already. It doesn’t help that his tie is skimming right over the recess between your folded thighs as he leans over your seated form, kissing you deeper as the moments pass.

“You’re distracting me now,” you scold, but your voice is quiet and smiley as your noses brush.

“Do you want to help me with my clothes?”

You nod, heart hatching like a cocoon and already slipping a finger into the knot of his tie so you can tug perhaps not gently enough. He chuckles, bracing himself with his fists on either side of your lap as you pull and yank until the fabric comes loose and you slip it from around his neck, flinging it blindly for dramatic effect. Then he slowly draws back to his full height, until you’re about eye-level with his chest. His gaze fixes on you, feverish and intent as he finds the buckle of his belt without looking. The slide of leather on leather, the jingle of the metal has the hairs on the back of your neck rising and you fight a chill as he pins you with his stare—feeling rather powerless as he towers over you, still essentially fully clothed while you’re completely naked.

You probably shouldn’t be as thrilled by it as you are.

Spencer tosses the belt on the floor and watches on, utterly charmed as you rise to your knees. His hands find your waist, steadying you as you begin unbuttoning his shirt with slow, careful fingers.

“See?” You murmur bashfully. “Helping.”

His voice is equally as soft.

“Very helpful. Thank you.”

The tension in the quiet room gets to be too much and you have to focus hard on the task at hand, failing to bite back a twisty smile. For once, he keeps his stupid perfect mouth shut and lets you push the fabric of his open shirt from his shoulders in humid silence.

Your fingers skate down his torso and you watch the muscles tense. You wonder if he notices the way he pulls you slightly closer or if it’s subconscious as you both track the path of your hands.

“Your button is on the wrong side,” you note, voice wavering slightly, once your fingers stall at the waistband of his pants.

Spencer chuckles. You feel silly.

“Men and women’s clothing tend to have the buttons on different sides, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh.” A beat of silence, before the words come pouring out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m still a little bit nervous, I think.”

“That’s okay,” Spencer assures you, hands gliding up and down the soft lines of your waist. “It’s okay that you’re nervous. But I’m going to take really good care of you, okay?”

You nod, not looking away from the exposed skin of his torso.

“And if at any point you need to take a break or stop, you’ll tell me.”

“I will, but… I don’t need to stop right now.”

“Then you can go as slow as you want.”

You swallow and take a moment to gather yourself before continuing on undoing his pants. With his assistance, you pull them down, and with them his boxers tug an inch or two lower, exposing a subtle v-shape before it disappears beneath the waistband. The fabric is obviously tented. A ball of nervous anticipation spins faster in your stomach, drawing all the heat in your body down between your legs. He’s pretty everywhere. You’d nearly forgotten.

Spencer’s stomach tenses under your light touch as you drag your fingers down, down, just to the waistband. It’s then that you look up at him for permission to continue, and find his eyes already on you, heated and intense.

“Go ahead, honey.”

Again you find yourself quite excited to touch him, but you start cautiously, simply letting your hand fall over the shape of him through the fabric. Even that has his chest rising and falling at a slightly quickened rate, and one of his hands finds your unoccupied one, twining them together. That small gesture inspires you to bolden your explorations, becoming more insistent in the way you palm at him. He feels big, which is a concern of yours. But you try not to let that intimidate you.

Already he’s quite hard, you suspect from going down on you earlier (which is flattering as much as it embarrasses you) and your fingers graze a small wet patch of fabric. You fixate on the shaky little breath he releases as you push down his boxers with new fervor, and his cock springs up.

He’s still perfect.

You smear beads of precum down his tip, and he sighs, letting his head fall against yours as you both watch. A few coquettish pumps and he’s humming, kissing your face and dragging his lips down your neck where he makes a home for himself. Apparently the sight of your hand wrapped around him had been too much to bear.

“So good. Missed this.”

“It’s just my hand,” you whisper, a little insecure that he’s maybe playing it up for your benefit.

“It’s you.”

His voice is so breathy, you sort of have to believe him.

“Can I…?”

Too nervous to voice what you really mean, you trail off, but it apparently doesn’t matter to Spencer. He lifts his head like he’s in a stupor but you’ve said something urgent.

“Anything you want. You can do whatever you want.”

“Okay. Um…”

You let go of his hand (and his dick). Spencer automatically rotates to accommodate you as you end up on your knees on the wooden floor in front of him.

“This is what you want?” He breathes, already pushing his fingers through your hair and gathering it back as you look up at him and nod.

Very quickly you have him back in your hand, trying to remember what you learned from the few times you’ve done this. You start perhaps a bit softer, less eager to prove yourself than you have in the past—simply dragging him over your tongue before enveloping his tip in your mouth, and releasing with a pop. Despite being overtly, explicitly, and undeniably sexual, there’s something almost chaste about the way you handle him. It’s a (dirty) expression of love, and you think he understands that as he rubs at your cheek affectionately.

Eventually, however, you get too excited, and you take him into your mouth in earnest, bobbing your head slowly and seeing how much of him you can take without gagging.

Spencer makes the prettiest noises—they’re breathy, and not ostentatious, but he’s got such a nice speaking voice it’s like his gasps are bars in a song. You whine around him, wriggling your hips in a rather pathetic display, and then all too quickly he’s tugging your hair so you can’t keep him in your mouth.

“What?” You ask, closer to pouting than you’d care to admit and voice slightly hoarse. “You said I could do anything I want.”

“Not if you’re that good at it. Come here.”

He helps you up and catches you in a deep, messy kiss before you’ve fully regained your footing, swaying against him, but he holds you fast, pulling away slow like strings of honey trail between your mouths.

Spencer’s eyes are fixed on yours, lips parted in a sort of wonder before he glances down to your own mouth, wiping the shine from your bottom lip. Any moment you’re expecting him to say something, to tell you you’re beautiful or perfect or that he’s in love with you—but instead he just meets your eyes again, that same wonder-struck look on his pretty face. A tiny, breathy laugh forces itself from his chest like you’re a genuine miracle.

You feel so observed—seen in a way you’ve never been seen, looked at closer than anyone has ever looked at you before. And he still looks at you like you’re the human embodiment of love, the closest mortal manifestation of the divine, Galatea come down from her marble pedestal. The way he looks at you has your heart pounding and your breathing hastened. Adoration has never been something so physical, so tangible, ever before in your life. Your blood hums at the frequency of his electromagnetic field—an energetic aura that surrounds each person and can be detected from several feet away, as he’d explained it to you. It originates from the heart and if you spend enough time close to someone, syncs up the beating of your most vital organ with theirs until it’s a perfect match. Maybe that’s why, almost as quickly as your heart had begun to pound, it slows again, and you feel any reservation flush from your body like a fever.

“Okay,” you breathe, cataloguing every angle and curve of his face to store with all the rest, all the moments that feel important. Of course, you’ll never remember them like he does yours. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try your hardest.

“Okay?” Spencer asks. He understands the confirmation for what it is, and searches for signs of hesitation on your face while rubbing reassuring circles into your hip. You nod resolutely.

As he lays you down on your bed, it feels like you’re entering some kind of altered state. Everything is muted and glowing with a watercolor aura in the dark and you really only care about the man on top of you and the way moonlight dances on his skin and the way he smells like smoky amber and rain. He makes sure the pillows are fluffed under you, before sweeping your hair from beneath your shoulders into a corona around your head. All the while his eyes are so soft on you, just like his hands, and his lips when he leans down to touch them to yours.

One of said hands finds its way to your jaw, trailing down over your neck and collarbone, before settling over your breast where he swipes a thumb over your nipple, lightly, slowly, several times.

Once again you’re struck with the odd feeling, even with his hand on you like this, that the situation isn’t sexual in the way you’d anticipated. It’s not pornographic, or even very dirty. Everything Spencer does, even as his hand sneaks down between your legs, he does because he loves you.

“One more like this,” he mutters against your jaw after a moment.

“Why?”

Your impatience yields a smile you can only feel against your skin.

“Just want you relaxed and feeling good. That’s all.”

When you assent, his fingers are already slowly pushing inside you.

It seems you’ve entered some sort of time warp as well, because you reach a gentle peak in what feels like record time, aided by his easy murmurings and saccharine praise.

“Perfect. That was perfect,” Spencer says with a kiss to your shoulder as he slides his fingers from you and you feel yourself literally dripping onto the sheets. “Can I ask you something before we get carried away?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sweet and compliant as pleasure dulls your inhibitions for the second time tonight and your head lolls into the pillows.

“Baby,” he croons, voice soft as worn paper as your lids flutter and lashes brush febrile cheeks, thumbing over the heated skin. “Need you a little more alert, sweet girl.”

“’M trying,” you whine, though it’s half self-effacing laugh. Spencer chuckles too as you shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to reinvigorate yourself. “Okay. Go.”

“Well… we don’t have any protection.” Before you can groan, loudly, he hurries on. “And that’s… I’m okay with that, if it’s what you still want. I trust you. But there will come… a moment of reckoning. And I need to know where I should… reckon. So you don’t end up surprised.”

Now you’re really laughing—a giggly mess beneath him as your arms loop over his shoulders.

“Stop it,” he whines, pressing his nose to your cheek as you turn your head in an effort to not snort at your boyfriend to his face. “That was for your benefit, you know. You get squeamish.”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t take you seriously when you refer to it as reckoning.”

“Fine. I’ll rephrase. When I come, you essentially have two options. Inside, or on your stomach. Tell me where you want it.”

Your breath catches and your stomach does that tripping-over-itself thing again.

“Um…”

Another fond half laugh, at your expense, is pressed against your skin. It’s enough to prompt you into answering—he doesn’t have to say anything to make his point about your being squeamish.

“Inside,” you mutter, shy as you attempt to bring him closer so he won’t be able to look at you quite so closely. You wonder if he’s remembering the conversation you’d had over the phone last week—before he’d accidentally kind of broken up with you—about this very subject. You certainly are.

“Okay. I want you to have everything that you want.” A few kisses to your neck later, between nips, he speaks again. “Just need to hear that you want this one more time.”

“I want this,” you repeat, obedient and honest, plain and simple. “Now, please.”

Spencer responds by first kissing you, firm and loving. It soothes you, and he punctuates it with a kiss to your cheek, before he’s reaching down and guiding himself between your legs. You feel surprisingly calm, more overcome with love and the light pleasure rolling down your back as he drags himself over your clit than you are by nerves. Still, you pointedly hold his gaze, not looking down in case you psych yourself out. He slots himself in place, tip resting against your entrance.

“Remember, if you need to stop at any point—”

“I remember,” you cut him off hurriedly.

Okay. So perhaps you’re still slightly nervous.

He watches you, sympathetic though you’re not sure what for.

“I need you as relaxed as possible, okay? I want this to be easy on you.”

You take a moment, scanning your whole body for tense muscles. When you feel sufficiently relaxed, you offer Spencer a small nod, and at that, he begins pushing into you ever so slightly.

At first, it just feels foreign. He’s going so slowly, so carefully, you’re not sure he’s moving at all—until he finds resistance and the odd full feeling changes to a hint of burning stretch. Your hips jump and your breath catches, and Spencer stops immediately, relieving the pressure with a tiny shift in position.

“It’s gonna hurt,” you realize, eyes darting between his like he might be able to tell you otherwise. You’d always been aware of the possibility, but you were holding out hope that you’d be one of those people who didn’t experience any pain their first time.

“Just for a minute. Then it’ll feel good, angel.”

You swallow and nod. At the end of the day, you trust him completely. You trust him enough to let him hurt you.

“Super deep breaths for me.”

He watches intently as you follow his directions, taking several deep breaths in succession, before he begins pushing into you once more. The pressure builds and builds until he pushes past that point of resistance, and it’s like he’s breaking you in two.

“Ah,” you gasp, abs twisting as your body tries to escape the sensation without any input from you.

��I know. I know, baby, that was the hardest part. Breathe.”

He drops his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles with light pressure to distract from the pain.

You nod, lips pressed together tight as the deep ache muddles your brain. It’s an insistent pressure against something does not seem to want to budge. It burns and stretches and is laced with sour, flirtatious pleasure so that you can hardly tell what it is you’re feeling. Mostly, you’re dizzy and hot.

“Relax, just like that,” he strains, looking down. “My good girl. We’re almost there, baby.”

Cries spill unbidden from your mouth and your eyes shut as he continues to open you up deeper, until finally, finally, his hips settle into the cradle of yours.

Spencer sighs a curse under his breath, so quiet you don’t think it was meant for you.

He’s inside of you. It’s bizarre.

You whimper, and he snaps out of whatever revery he’d been in.

“You okay? How does that feel?”

You take a shuddering breath, closing your eyes and trying to clear your head to no avail—your thoughts are like TV static.

“I’m good. I need… I need a minute.”

“You can have as much time as you need. It’s a lot, huh?”

“Yeah,” you admit, voice small and weak.

“I bet,” he agrees, peppering soft kisses all over your face. “But you’re doing so well. Proud of you, brave girl. You’re doing so well and we’re gonna make sure it feels good soon, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

“Will you please kiss me again?” you whisper, and Spencer’s brow knits with concern.

“Of course, angel. Of course I’ll kiss you,” he says, and makes good on his promise with his lips on yours. It sweetens the ache. “I’ll do whatever you want. You can have anything. You’re so perfect.”

He kisses you again, just as lovingly, and soft, like you’re delicate. All the praise is only contributing to your lightheadedness, but you don’t mind at all. It feels good.

“You can… you can move.”

“Okay. We’ll go really slow, yeah?”

He waits for your nod before his hips are pulling back and you arch at the odd sensation. When he pushes back in, eyes carefully locked on yours the whole time, you keen slightly, frowning and brain shorting out as it tries and fails to process this new feeling.

“Uh-huh. You’re okay, I promise.”

At first it doesn’t feel good. It mostly hurts. But slowly, the pain begins to abate as you acclimate to having him inside of you, and he’s careful the whole time.

“Spence?”

“Hm?”

He sounds concentrated on the task at hand—you’re entranced by the sight of him above you, the parted lips, the unkempt hair over the brow furrowed in pleasure and focus. But he’s never too busy for you.

“Does it… um—” you pause to hold back a whine—“what does it feel like for you?”

At this, he slows even further and chuckles—it’s a strained, slightly breathy sound.

“For me?”

“Mhm.”

“You feel perfect, baby. You feel so fucking good.”

The slight fry in Spencer’s voice as he curses, which is a rare event in and of itself, flips your stomach, turns you on immensely. The idea that you’re giving him pleasure too—it’s almost overwhelming. That’s when it starts feeling good.

“Oh—” you squeak, jaw dropping and bucking your hips inadvertently as the first bolt of true pleasure shocks deep in your core. He hums.

“Yeah, is that it, sweet girl?”

But you can’t answer for a long moment. Your brain is melting as your legs lock around him.

“Mm—it’s—it feels…”

“I know it does,” Spencer murmurs.

You whine and press your face into the curve of his shoulder as each thrust gently rocks your body. As the pace picks up bit by bit, you feel yourself clenching hard around him. His hips stutter and he hisses.

“Ah. Can’t do that, lovely.”

“What? Did I hurt you?”

He laughs breathily.

“No, you didn’t hurt me. You almost pushed me out. You have to relax.”

“Sorry,” you whisper. “’M trying.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. I know you’re trying, baby, you’re being so good for me.”

Your nails skim his back—a small expression of a much larger desperation. Once he’s sure you’re relaxed around him, begins going faster.

Your gasps and soft moans come more often now as he finds a steady rhythm and it feels so different when he’s actually fucking you. It feels like he’s everywhere. Every time your hips meet you feel the sweet shock of it in your teeth, your toes, the back of your neck. In the best way, you feel consumed by him. It’s not at all like you’d imagined, and it’s perfect.

“Wait, Spencer,” you breathe, struggling to form the words. Immediately he stops again, lifting his head from your shoulder to examine your face.

“What is it?”

He sounds just as wrecked as you feel, panting and strained and it feels good to hear.

“I wanna watch.”

For a moment his eyes dart between yours like he’s trying to determine what you really mean—but you said exactly what you meant. Then he laughs, a huff of air from his nose as he presses his head to yours and gives you a quick kiss.

Your toes curl as he readjusts his position, holding himself a little higher and resting your heads together so you can both look between your bodies.

“There,” he murmurs as he slowly begins to withdraw again. “Like that?”

But you can’t answer, because you’re too busy whimpering at the sight of him pushing into you. The feeling seems to increase tenfold as you watch it happen. Distantly you wonder how the fuck it fits.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Like that.”

Spencer takes this as a blessing to find a pace again, slower now as he seems to be just as enthralled by the sight as you are.

“Give me your leg,” he rasps after a few moments like that, and you don’t know what he means exactly but you lift your right leg slightly only for him to press his hand to the back of your knee and push toward your chest, effectively opening you up and giving him more range of motion. It also enables him to fuck you even deeper. Again he slows, apparently savoring the feel of you yielding around him all the way down to the hilt.

Black spots dance in your eyes as he settles at your deepest point—not pain, necessarily, just overwhelming sensation. Your jaw drops and you choke out a moan as he presses into recesses you didn’t know you had, as he shows you a part that you might have gone the rest of your life without knowing existed. He stops there, like that. Everything stops there, like that. If the cars on the road below ceased to drive, if the airplanes froze in the sky, you’d not be the least bit surprised. Somehow, you’ve unlocked a small eternity. There’s no sound but your joint heavy breathing and your heart pounding in your ears. The words just come bubbling up out of you in a little whine.

“I love you.”

Spencer’s breath pauses for a moment before he’s letting it all out at once, brushing his lips up the ridge of your nose before they settle on your forehead in what seems like a permanent kiss. A few breaths in, you allow your eyes to flutter shut. Your heart rate slows down a touch, and you settle into the moment, never having been quite so content as you are like this—never having felt quite so adored and safe.

“I love you,” he finally echoes, voice rasping, lips still pressed to your skin, still breathing against your hair. When he starts to move again, drawing back ever so slowly, you hiss softly. He raises his head from yours, and you look away from where he’s pulling out, meeting his eyes just in time for him to push back in, just as deep. They shine in the mostly-dark room and you moan unabashedly. It’s a high-pitched, sweet thing, nothing that will have the neighbors complaining—but so clearly true, from the depths of your soul, an expression of everything you’re feeling—not just the pleasure.

Although that’s good, too, as Spencer shapes you to him again and again, the head of his cock kissing places nobody’s ever been and places you hope nobody else will ever venture to. This is all you need. Him.

“Jesus,” Spencer groans, eyes fixed on your face as he fucks you slowly. But you can’t bring yourself to talk, too new to this kind of pleasure to find it anything other than mind-boggling and world altering. Your lips are still parted, allowing each sound to pass without filter. “Listen to you, beautiful.”

When he stops again, just to look down and marvel at you, you’re conflicted. On the one hand, you can taste the pleasure on the back of your tongue and he keeps taking it away when it’s so close. But on the other—you’re just as overwhelmed as he said you’d be. Your body has never had to process this kind of sensory information before, and you’re exhausted, but it’s so good.

“Spencer,” you manage. He looks up, pupils blown and eyes lidded where they’d normally be wide. “Please don’t stop.”

He swallows, spurred into action again as soon as you say it.

“Good?”

You nod and whine again as he picks up the pace bit by bit, remembering to push your leg back once more so he can get as deep as you need him.

“So good,” you exhale at the top pitch of your voice. Your brows pinch and you release a fuller moan as Spencer finds a speed that’s fast enough to constantly feel good no matter where he is. You’re gasping for breath, back arching—and he finds a new angle, catching against the spot inside you that renders all those years of human evolution that gave you sentience and intelligence a waste. He chuckles airily at your series of series of affronted moans and halted gasps.

“Right there? That's a good spot, isn’t it?”

“Oh, go—fuck, fuck!”

It feels so good it almost hurts, and your eyes are stinging to prove it. Your legs clamp tighter around him and you realize there’s a very lewd wet sound and you can’t believe that’s you.

“Spencer, you’re—oh my god, I love you,” you whine, and it sounds like you’re pleading for your life. At this makes his own sound of pleasure, and hastens his messy circles on your clit as if in reward.

But it’s too much all combined.

Your hand claps to your mouth to obscure the loud, licentious moan that comes out—but Spencer immediately moves his hand from between your legs to grab your wrist and pin it gently to the bed, intertwining your fingers.

“Don’t do that. Let me hear.”

You nod, and he lets go of your hand to return his fingers to your clit. If possible you get wetter around his cock—you can feel yourself gushing.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whine as if pained.

“Yeah? Gonna finally let me feel you cumming, angel?”

He has a filthy mouth when he wants to. The words hit like high voltage to your core and the very pit of your stomach. You can’t even respond beyond a desperate sob.

“Show me, baby. I’m right here. Let go.”

You cum around his cock with a broken cry and it’s like a purge of every drop of angst you’d felt over the past week or so—hell, it’s a purge of all the insecurities that had bubbled to the surface since you started dating him. None of it matters anymore. How could it matter when you have him? When you have this?

The orgasm washes you out like a tidal wave, taking everything with it. It’s strong, and it’s so good, so intense, your body is overwrought with sensation and it’s too much even though it’s perfect. Your brain is drawing a blank as it tries to react to the feeling, and it’s like every button on the damn panel has been hit.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Spencer grits, and you feel it in the way he adjusts his position, shifting as he grips at the edge of the mattress for leverage and the thrusts become messier, needier. You gasp as his other hand tangles in your hair, turning your head to ghost your lips over his forearm. It’s not entirely surprising when his own lips find your shoulder—but the feeling of him finding his release just as his teeth sink into your skin does come as quite a shock. It doesn’t hurt, and you’re sure there’s no skin broken, but it’s an undeniable fact that he has grounded himself in the throes of passion by biting down on you.

Inside you, he feels hot. Searing, almost, as his spend tries to fill space that doesn’t exist. There is absolutely no room for anything else inside of you. Stars dance in your eyes at the overstimulation, but long after he’s finished he’s still fucking into you—albeit much slower and with far less technique. Spencer moans like a two bit whore, like he’s reached pain to a point of ecstasy, and to you it’s as good, as special as the singing of the planets. If he’s as sensitive as you are now, it’s no small feat for him to keep going on like this. It’s a testament to how much he doesn’t want it to be over. The pleasure is carrying him away, but you’re beginning to feel how soft you must be and how if he continues on like this you may bruise like an overripe peach.

“Spencer,” you manage, skating your hand up and down his back in what you hope are soothing lines. “Baby.”

He whines as his lips detach from your shoulder, but his hips finally slow to a stop, nestled inside you.

“Jesus, fuck, I'm sorry,” he breathes, opting now to bury his face in your neck (with significantly less biting this time).

You’re still reeling, toes still curled, still struggling to breathe as your head spins and spins and spins. His chest pushes against yours with every heaving breath, hot and heavy on your skin, and that’s the only sign he’s still alive until his hand eventually reanimates in your hair, scratching your head tenderly.

For a span of minutes, you stay like that—silent, twined together like caducean serpents. His weight on top of you is perfect. This, the lack of differentiation between your body and his, is perfect. You don’t know where he ends and you begin and you don’t need to. It’s a blissful moment.

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice is hoarse when he finally speaks, lifting his head to look at you with flushed cheeks and messy hair and sparkly eyes.

“Hi.”

He smiles.

“You’re so pretty.”

“You too,” you murmur, moving your hand from his back and pressing your thumb into the hollow of his cheek. His eyes map the curves of your face as he pushes your surely askew hair back.

“How do you feel?”

It takes you a moment to seriously consider his question, scanning your body for any undue pains, but for the moment, you find none, beyond a dull aching throb that you can manage.

“Good. Tired.”

You wince at the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. Spencer hums sympathetically and presses a sticky kiss to your lips which makes it a little better, though you can’t ignore how uncomfortable all the previously pleasant wetness has become between your legs.

“Here—stay here, I’ll get a wash cloth and—”

“It’s fine,” you insist, holding on even as he tries to roll off of you. “I just need… will you stay here for a little bit?”

“Of course,” he promises, now pressed close to your side and propped up on an elbow, “whatever you want.”

You lavish in his gaze, warm like a spotlight, as he strokes your cheek and plays with your hair. Very quickly you’re lulled into a doze, eyes fluttering shut. Minutes stretch. You feel drunk on waking dreams, and perfectly at peace. Safe.

“Angel girl,” he christens you fondly. More than anything, it’s an observation, so lovely it sinks into your skin like a balm, soothing every tired muscle and little mark he’d made. Even half-asleep, it makes you smile.

“You’re an angel,” you slur, reaching blindly for him, and he chuckles, catching your wrist and helpfully settling your hand on his cheek.

“I thought you were asleep.”

You hum, “mm-mm,” looking up at him with just as much adoration as he has for you. Those cuddle hormones must be kicking in because soon you’re attempting to pull him back on top of you. He doesn’t quite comply, probably for fear of crushing you—rather he settles next to you, gathering you in his arms.

Silence blankets the two of you, but it’s not unpleasant as you just watch each other with barely-there smiles curling your mouths. This kind of intimacy still manages to give you butterflies, even after everything else you’ve done. This kind of satisfaction, reverie in the sound of each other’s blood flowing and lungs filling. Setting aside words because you don’t need conversation as a pretense for wanting to be around each other anymore. You don’t need an excuse to look at him like this. You don’t need words any more than you need clothes. It’s enough to just be.

“I love you,” he says, a soft reminder, and entirely redundant with the way he’d already been looking at you, touching you.

“I know. I love you too.”

The smile flickers brighter on his face.

“And thank you.”

Your eyes narrow minutely as you consider what he could possibly be thanking you for.

“For what?”

“For loving me. And trusting me. It’s…” your heart squeezes as you realizes tears are pooling in his eyes. He takes a moment and clears his throat. It’s incredibly endearing. “It means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.”

You look down, thumbing at the sheets where you’ve hoisted them over your bodies.

“You do realize how lame we are if we have sex and both immediately start crying, right?”

At this he laughs loudly but not loud enough to pop the little bubble you’re in, and you look up just in time to catch the brilliance of his smile, the way it changes his whole face and he becomes superhuman in his beauty, the lines that form by his eyes and the way they narrow and crystalline tears bead his lashes like precious gems.

“Don’t cry,” he requests gently, hypocritically as your own eyes sting. The way his smile fades is like the sun setting. Gorgeous, like everything else he does. “You’ve cried so much, honey. Please don’t cry.”

You sniffle, gathering yourself.

“I’m not. That would be pathetic.”

Spender leans forward to kiss you tenderly a few more times. Ordinarily you’d worry about coming across as clingy when you hold onto him so closely and so insistently like this, but for now you don’t care. Neither does he, it seems, as he seems unable to get you close enough. Eventually, you end up curled against him, head tucked under his chin and dozing on and off as he traces shapes into your skin.

“What are you writing?” You mumble some time later, cheek smushed against his shoulder. He only responds with a soft hm, like he was lost deep in thought. You clarify, “it feels like you were writing something.”

“She Walks in Beauty.”

Your lips pull into a sleepy smile.

“The Lord Byron poem?”

The first time you’d met Spencer, he’d inadvertently caused your painstakingly annotated copy of Lord Byron’s works to go flying all over a cafe, and then kindly helped clean up the pages and reorder them for you in record time. Among the poems had been She Walks in Beauty.

“Yeah. I was trying to figure out when exactly I fell in love with you, and as someone who is deeply skeptical about love at first sight, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I keep coming back to our first conversation. I mean, I believe in genetic compatibility, and how that contributes to attraction and what we think of as chemistry, but—”

“Wait, what about our first conversation did it?” Your cheeks ache from smiling as you speak. “As I recall I was being a bitch and I was covered in coffee.”

He laughs dreamily, still tracing letters over the small of your back. You wonder what part of the poem he’s at now.

“Yeah, mean to me and covered in coffee is pretty much exactly my type. But I think it was actually the annotations on that copy of Lord Byron’s works. They were so insightful, and personal, I—it kind of took my breath away, and I know I shouldn’t have read them all but I couldn’t stop. You were compelling, and charming, and funny and wildly intelligent and beautiful and… and I didn’t stand a chance.”

Everything aches. It’s a good ache. Despite being seconds from tearing up all over again, you snort. He never told you about that first day.

“You thought me writing ‘sister fucker’ in all caps every time he mentioned Augusta was charming?”

“Oh, obscenely so. But now that I’m looking back, I feel like… I feel like I can’t remember not being in love with you. I mean, I remember when I realized I was, and that was later. But it was like I met you, and then I was just… waiting for you to catch up.”

You grab his hand and interlace your fingers, watching the way the ambient nighttime light from the window and the bathroom dips them half in color.

“We were pretty much on the same page. I was debating courthouse versus small intimate ceremony as soon as you left.”

You watch him watching your joined hands, features soft and relaxed, fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly as he speaks.

“Definitely small intimate ceremony. I have too many friends who would kill me if they weren’t invited to the wedding.”

You giggle and pretend the thought doesn’t give you butterflies. You imagine a ring on your finger, the one he’s got between his own. Marriage had never been something you’d considered. Not when you had no reason to. It seemed like something for other people. But maybe one day, it will be for you, too.

“Did you know Lord Byron had a daughter who is regarded by many as the first computer programmer? She wrote the first algorithm for a theoretical machine that was so complex it couldn’t be built with the technology available at the time. It was called an Analytical Engine.”

He sounds almost wistful as he gives you the utterly unprompted, but still welcome, abridged version of her life. The description is ringing a bell—but you can’t quite place her, sleepy as you are.

“What was her name?”

“Ada Lovelace. She was exceptionally gifted. The odds of parent and child being so extraordinary in their respective fields are incalculable, but from a purely theoretical perspective, negligible. I mean, they’re both massive historical figureheads. That’s extremely uncommon.”

You adore it when he goes off on these tangents—the passion that stains his voice, the ardor that grips him until he has no choice but to tell you exactly what’s got him so excited. You could listen to him talk for hours. It means he’s here with you, and he wants you to love what he loves.

Since he met you, that’s all Spencer has wanted—for you to love what he loves.

You want the same.

“Pretty name,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut. “Tell me more.”

part eight

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic

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oreo-creampie · 1 year ago

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𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭, 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: quiet nerd!pleasure dom!choso, heavy praise/light degradation, dacryphilia, choso has a size kink, choso’s pov, oral (giving and receiving), knife play/no blood, light pain kink, pussy drunk/obsessed choso, squirting, fingering, light begging, light choking

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @vampress7; Hi baby girl I hope you’re doing well, I have an idea: nerdy, loner, and unassuming freak choso who absolutely wrecks reader after class during a study session ((I need this so badly))

‘He is wearing those sweat pants, I keep sneaking glances at his cock, I wanna see it. No need to see it, I'm dying of thirst! He can feed me his cum! I don't really care much for giving blow jobs but something about Choso makes me wanna gobble his cock till he is a whiny mess.’

‘Damn ily but you’re down too bad for a man you haven't even touched.’

‘I cant help it! Have you seen Choso?! I want to hear how he sounds when he cums.’

‘Aren’t yall supposed to study for friday’s exam you can’t fail this one!’

Writen in your text bar; ‘its hard to focus on what he’s saying. Choso’s thick arms in his black muscle t-shirt’

Choso’s cheeks are burning, his ego swelling, nerves churning, and disbelief whispering. Sliding his fingers through his hair, there is no denying you want him.

Glancing down at his cock, perfectly outlined by his thin sweats. His cock is getting warmer, longer, and thicker with each soft pulse. If you want his cock, you can have it any way you’re willing to take it.

You come back holding the fuzzy stripped criminal. “He broke my lamp, got it cleaned up but he’s ground.” You bend over for Jasper to jump to the floor, running away from you with his fluffy tail in the air.

Your shorts rising up your soft ass. “I’d hit ya from the back if I didn't want to see the face you make when you take my fat cock first the first time.” Your beautiful eyes widen, locking onto your phone in his hands.

Grabbing his hard cock, stroking himself through his sweats. You glance down. “Im torn between wanting to fuck that bratty mouth outta ya and eating you out till you’re trembling.” Your mouth looks so sweet and fuckable. You’d look so beautiful sucking his cock with tears running down your face.

“For me to be a good teacher I need to help you focus. If I help you cum will you pay attention more. We can snuggle while we study.” Holding your phone out for you to grab. Quickly discarding it on the coffee table.

His heart beating faster when you get on your knees in front of him. “If you were paying attention to the text then you’d know,” tugging his sweatpants down, “I won't be able to pay attention until I hear what sounds come out of that pretty mouth of yours.”

Moaning when you grab his cock, your hand soft, in your hand his cock has never looked so big before. “You can hear me moaning in your soft cunt. I don't think you understand nnn!” Loudly moaning when you take his cock into your hot wet mouth.

Bobbing your head, taking him deeper with slow strokes soothing the uncomfortable tighteness building in his of his cock. “Honeybun I jerked off to the thought of eating you out before comin’.” Cupping your cheek, jerking hips fucking your soft wet mouth.

“Been slutting you out in my head since ya walked into class.” Choso leans his head back, sliding his fingers through his soft dark hair. “We can do both, Im dying to taste ya sloppy cunt. I'll gag you with my fat cock nnnn oh fuck that’s iiittt! Grabbing a handful of your hair, fucking your soft mouth till spit is dripping down your chin.

Choso is getting off on your beautiful eyes sparkling with tears that trickle down your cheeks. “Are ya gonna be my whore help me take care of my fat cock?” Pulling you off his cock with a soft pop. His too heavy to stand up, hitting his cock.

Grabbing his cock, smacking his tip on your lips. “Wish it stood up, but what can ya do?” He knees wobble when you cup his balls. Lovingly kissing along his cock, easing the ache and tension, with sweet soft pleasure.

Your hand feels so good, his cock softly tingling. Smiling up at him. He can feel his heartbeat in the quickly pulse of his cock. “You’re so perfectly thick and heavy that you hang, nothing wrong with that handsome.” Licking up his cock, swirling your tongue around his fat head. He groans when watches himself slip inside.

Letting go of your hair, slipping his hands beneath your shoulders. Picking you up, you wrap your soft thighs around his waist. He feels strong holding you close, keeping you safe. “Gonna take good care of you, and your sloppy cunt.”

Squeezing your ass, carrying you with one hand. You grab a handful of his hair, and a tingle shoots down his spine when he feels your nails. “Bedroom is the last room on the right.” Taking you down the hall. “Please all I want is you. Wanna be your whore, ruin anyone else for me with your fat cock.” Trailing loving kissing along his jaw, his cheeks burning.

Opening and shutting the door behind himself. “Ill show you how badly I've been needing ya.” Gently setting you down, closing your curtains. Taking his shirt off, dropping it on the floor.

You’re making quick work of taking your shirt and shorts off. Admiring your beautiful body Choso forgets everything he’s doing. You give him one thought when you spread your legs showing him your soft wet cunt.

He needs to make you cum.

Kneeling, grabbing your soft thighs putting them over his shoulder. “So so so beautiful.” Kissing your soft clit, gently sucking, steadily stroking you with his tongue. Making sure his barbell rubs your clit with his swipe.

Nudging a thick finger into your tight cunt. You’re perfectly soft and wet, clenching his finger. Slowly pumping his finger, he’s going to find your g-spot. Clenching his head with your soft thighs. Grabbing his hair tugging, he groans from the sweet pain.

Focusing on your sweet spot. Taking pride in how easily you tremble because of his tongue and finger.

“They say the quiet ones are freaky, what about you? What do you think about when you're touching yourself?” Choso doesn't want to take his face out from between your legs. He’s found heaven, but he can't ignore your question.

Rising up, causing you to fall on your back, your legs over his broad shoulders. His cock hangs, his tip lightly grazing your soft, wet cunt. “Wanna take you to mine, get you high, give you a safe word,” trapping your head in between his hands, “tie you up, drag a knife across your skin, see you squirm, help you cum, hear you cry and beg to be my sweet little whore.”

His cock aches from having you folded up beneath him. “I wouldn’t mind trying some freak shit, get a knife from the kitchen.” Kissing your forehead, cheeks, and soft cunt. Carefully slipping your legs off his shoulders.

Choso is quick to grab a large knife from your kitchen.

Leaning over you, “Safe word is red.” Lining his cock with your soft cunt, rolling his hip. Dragging the knife up your side, gently kissing your soft lips. Groaning, grinding his thick cock on your sloppy cunt.

Squeezing your neck, pinning your hips with his, keeping you from squirming too much. Slipping his tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss. You’re so needy, and desperate, digging your nails into his back.

Loosening his grasp on your neck. “Ya good sweetheart?” Dragging the knife over your soft nipple, pulling his cock away. You’re so sexy, stuffing two thick fingers in your sweet cunt. “You’re getting so sloppy for me.” Curling his fingers, remember where your sweet spot is.

Smirking with pride when you moan, “Chooo please please please!” Gliding the knife down your stomach. Marveling at how you squirm, your cunt getting so tight around his thick fingers.

Your cunt’s lips and puffy clit wet, soft and beautiful. “I’m obsessed with how sexy you are begging’ for me, clenching my fingers.” Pressing the side of the knife to your clit, lightly rubbing your clit.

“I’ve been waiting long enough please please fuck me. Need to feel your fat cock in my cunt!” Choso’s cheeks burn with how you’re looking at him. He wants to remember the look of adoration, lust and pleasure on your beautiful face forever.

Lifting the knife off your clit, kissing her. “I didn’t prep ya enough yet sweetheart.” Dragging the knife along your thigh, adding more pressure than before testing what limits you have.

Stroking your clit with his thumb. “Nnnn oh fuck.” Pumping his fingers faster. - the pain- pleasure-I didn’t think!” You trail off moaning louder, biting your bottom lip, closing your eyes.

Holding the knifes to your neck, “Look at me or I’m stopping, look at whose making your tight little cunt feel so good.” Smiling when you look at him. “That’s it beautiful, lemme see the sweet look into your eyes when you cum. Whose slut are you?”

Rubbing your soft clit faster. “Your’s! All yours my tits, mouth, ass and cunt are all yours.” Dragging the knife down your neck, between your collarbones and swirling around your nipple.

“What are you? Need to hear you say it beautiful.” Messaging your sweet spot at a steady pace. You’re quivering, your cunt squelching, making his cock ache with how hard he is. His pulse quickens, making his head throb.

Swiping your nipple with the knife. “I’m your sexy good lil’ slutttt!!! Nnnn!” You’re squirting on his fingers, fingering your soft, squelching tight cunt. Playing with your puffy clit.

Jerking your hips away, he drags the knife down above your belly. Forcing you to have to keep still, your thick cum trickling from your spasming cunt. “There are so many nasty things I wanna do to you. I’m gonna ruin you, make your cunt crave my cock.” Gliding his fingers out.

Sucking your thick cum off his fingers, groaning from the flavor. Dragging the knife to your sloppy, sensitive cunt, sliding the knife around your sweet cunt. Groaning when your soft cunt clenches around nothing. “Beg for my cock.”

Oreo creampie’s m.list

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yanderenightmare · 8 months ago

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♡ TW: angst, toxic traits, somewhat bullying, breakup

♡ FEM reader

You’re his first girlfriend. He’d never bothered with anything serious before—it seemed too messy to trifle with. He doesn’t know why he suddenly decided. Suppose he’d been feeling a little bored, and something within him saw you as a fool-proof opportunity.

It wasn’t because you were anything special. Actually, it was more the opposite. You didn’t seem like too big of a risk. You were just a normal, honest, nice person—a bit of a loser, too, if he was being honest. He could do a lot better and pick someone of the same caliber as him, someone with a cooler style and presence, but then he’d only get caught up in the competition.

You were more to his appetite—a dorky, blushy lil’ nerd who giggled nervously at everything he said. In other words, no competition at all. You’d never dare break his heart because you frankly couldn’t afford it. And he found solace in that imbalance—knowing he held all the cards and that you could only be grateful he’d chosen you.

At least, that had been what he’d thought. But then, here you are, holding his hands from across the table in a cute little sundae café, telling him how this just can’t work anymore.

He’s confused for a whole minute before it sinks in.

You’re breaking up with him.

He’s confused afterward, too.

You’re breaking up with him?

That can’t be right. You must be joking. He almost laughs, almost cackles, but ends up staying completely silent. Something about that pitiful look in your eye makes his throat tight, and he almost thinks he’s going to cry instead.

You’re breaking up with him. You, with him. His foot starts to tap. Have you hit your head or something? You’re dressed in a hoodie, for crying out loud, with not an ounce of make-up on—effortless, as if his perception of you wasn’t any of your concern while you’re fucking breaking up with him.

No way. There’s just no way. You must be confused about something, is all. There’s absolutely no way you’re doing this.

“What are you talking about?” It comes angry. Louder than he’d intended, enough to make you jolt in your seat. A couple of heads even turn your way. You wait for them to turn back before answering.

“I just think we’re a bit too different. And… I don’t know…” You were trying to find ways of telling him you weren’t in love with him but ended up deciding it was unnecessary—it wasn’t exactly something he needed to hear even though you had a lot you could say.

You’re rude and arrogant and treat me like some rescue pet you’ve nurtured back to health. You act like you’re embarrassed to be with me even though you’re the one without any friends. You’re selfish and spoiled and—

“If you don’t know, then there’s nothing to talk about. Quit being silly.” He has a furrow between his brows as he picks up the pink menu between the two of you, scanning the different types of milkshakes you could share and forget all about it. After all, you weren’t breaking up with him—that would just be absurd. “Let’s get strawberry.”

“No—”

“Guess we could get mango if you want that instead—”

“I’m not sharing drinks with you—”

“What? You tryna lose weight or something? Not like anyone but me is gonna see you when all you wear are those baggy hoodies all the time. Speaking of which, you should wear mine instead, they’d suit you better—”

“Listen.” You stop his rambling. “I’m not sharing drinks, and I’m not wearing your clothes. I’m not being silly, either. I’m being serious. It’s over—”

“No, it’s not.” His fist bangs against the table—the look in his eye on edge and twitchy. “I asked you why, and you had no good reason—so it’s not, not until you convince me.”

You had wanted to avoid it, but it seems he wouldn’t allow you the grace to spare him. That being said, you hadn’t meant to be so brutally honest…

“You’re a narcissist. You don’t treat me like a girlfriend. I’m more like a charity case or some type of experiment to you. Half the time, it feels as though you’re just playing a game with everyone in your life like pawns for you to shuffle around the board as you see fit.” You’re the one with the furrowed brows now, unable to bite your tongue as you’d kept it in all this time. “I think you should seek help and get your controlling tendencies straightened out before having any type of relationship. Or don’t. In any case, I don’t think I’m the right girl for you.”

There’s a silence. The chatter of the café seems distant. You feel half inclined to apologize as you look at him and stare down the glassy tabletop as if trying to find his reflection for comfort—but then he beats you to the punch.

“You’re right…” he starts softly, mustering the words, and you’re almost proud to see him take it so well, but then there’s a viscousness to his next words. “You’re not the right girl for me.”

When he looks up again, his face is warped—callous and seemingly disgusted by the sight of you. Something about it even seems to lash out at you, seeking revenge.

“I can’t believe I thought I saw something in you,” he sighs. “Turns out you’re exactly what everyone warned me you would be—just a plane-boring old Jane. What a joke—wasting so much time on something so worthless. Forget breaking up with me, I should have broken up with you a long time ago.”

He gets up in a rush and bears over the table, both palms laid flat upon the surface.

“Charity case?” he seethes, then conjures a fake laugh and an even faker grin. “I couldn’t have put it better myself. Enjoy sitting here alone like the loser you are.”

And even though you’re the one watching him walk away while ordering a chocolate sundae for yourself, you can’t help but feel sorry for the poor guy…

That had been the most emotion you’d ever witnessed come from him.

Obviously, he doesn’t take it very well, stumbling through the café before bursting out the door, but even he’s surprised by how disheveled it had made him. He’s hyperventilating when the fresh air hits him, almost sprinting to his car so that he can lock himself inside it.

But the car only makes it worse as he’s far from alone in there. You’re everywhere. On the hood, waiting for him with a smile. In the rearview mirror, waving at him. In the seat next to him with a pout, asking if you can stay over. In the backseat, naked with a coy twinkle in your eye.

He knows! He has some of your underwear at home—he’ll threaten to pass them around campus unless you beg him to take you back. No, what’s he thinking!? You’ll never come back to him that way. Fuck, what can he do, what’s he supposed to do!? He just called you worthless—what that fuck was he thinking?!

The tears startle him as they drip down and splash upon his whitening knuckles, where he grips the wheel for dear life even as the car stays completely still—safe and sound in the same plot.

There’s a light pink lip balm on the dash. Yours. You must have left it there—maybe on purpose? No… you don’t play games like that. You’d been honest in the café. The fact terrifies him—his heart seems to want to reject it at all costs, the way it tears in his chest.

He picks the slim pink stick up and rolls it around in his hand, which can’t seem to stop shaking. You’d sat on his lap in this very seat, laughing at something dumb he’d said while applying the very same balm on his lip—kissing his forehead while saying something sweet. He knows it wasn’t, but he imagines you’d whispered that you loved him.

When he smears the balm around his lips this time, he imagines kissing you and your soft lips and that everpresent smile he never bothered telling you was pretty.

He’s such an idiot. The birds in the parking lot take flight at the jostling of his car, but no one hears the roar.

And as he sits there in the following silence, wallowing in his own self-pity and regret, he can’t help but feel like the lead of some angsty teen romance.

And like the lead in an angsty teen romance, he swears… whatever it takes… he will win you back.

You will be his again.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks ♡ JJK – Gojo, Naoya, some young type of Sukuna, or Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ AOT – Eren

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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flwrstqr · 25 days ago

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୨୧ BEWiTCHED ME : WHEN YOU WEAR GLASSES ╰——𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗆𝖾, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗆𝗇 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾

𝑜𝑓 · 𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖶𝓉𝖨𝖬𝖤 ⦂ bf!enhypen x f!r 1OOOwc. ── est relationship, skinship, petnames, enha being very bad down TT ｡｡ ⠀fluff ✦ 𝓒ATALOGUE ♡ ◞

DANi : wah happy new years, flueries~ ki's was so fun to write (> <)

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 “woah, wait a second,” heeseung says, his voice low and teasing as he leans in, his nose almost brushing yours. “when did my baby start looking like the hottest nerd alive?” his hand gently cups your jaw, thumb grazing your cheek as he tilts your face up. you blink at him through the new glasses, flustered, but he’s clearly having the time of his life. “don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a smirk that makes your heart race. “you’re making it hard to concentrate when all i want to do is kiss you.” his fingers toy with the frame of your glasses, and he chuckles softly. “honestly, though, you’re too cute. these just make it unfair for the rest of us.” before you can even respond, he dips his head, lips brushing yours. “yep, definitely my favorite look on you.”

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 “baby,” jay breathes, as his eyes trace every inch of your face like he’s seeing you for the first time. “you’re… wow.” he steps closer, his hand coming up to gently cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “how do you keep getting prettier? is it even legal to look this good?” he chuckles softly, shaking his head in disbelief, but his gaze stays locked on you, completely mesmerized. his fingers lightly adjust the frame of your glasses. “seriously, you look like a dream, princess,” he murmurs, his other hand slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “i don’t know if i should stare at you all day or buy you every pair of glasses on the planet just to see this look again.” he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “you’re perfect.”

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡 "angel, are you trying to kill me?" jake breathes out, eyes wide as they rake over your face, his fingers lifting to adjust the frames on your nose. “seriously, this? this should be illegal,” he mutters, his lips quirking into that signature smirk, but the way his ears flush gives him away. “jake, they’re just glasses—” you start, only for him to cut you off, pulling you closer by the waist. “just glasses? no, no, these are weapons of mass destruction, pretty girl,” he teases, leaning in till your noses almost touch. “honestly, how am i supposed to focus when you look this good? it’s distracting,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your cheek. when you swat at him, laughing, he just grins wider. “what? you want me to not tell my stunning girlfriend how perfect she is? sorry, can’t do that.”

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡 it takes sunghoon a solid five minutes to notice, and even then, it’s only because you catch him squinting at you. “wait—hold on,” he starts, leaning closer, his head tilting slightly as his dark eyes narrow. “are you wearing… glasses?” he finally asks, blinking like he’s just uncovered the world’s biggest mystery. you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “wow, observant as ever, park sunghoon.” his lips curl into that boyish smile, the one that makes your heart trip over itself, as he reaches out to tug you closer by the wrist. “i mean, give me a break, princess. i was distracted by your face—glasses or not, it’s kind of unfair how good you look,” he teases, his voice soft but teasing as his fingers brush along the side of your face.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢 "baby, you look so cute, i can't even," sunoo whispers, his voice dripping with adoration as he tugs you closer by the waist, his fingers brushing over the glasses he helped you pick out. "i knew these frames were the one, but i didn't know they'd make me fall in love with you all over again." “don’t look at me like that,” you mumble, your own face heating up, but he just grins, leaning his forehead against yours. “like what? like you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen?” he teases, his hands gently cupping your cheeks. “sunoo!” you protest, but he just laughs, stealing a quick peck on your lips. “what? just speaking the truth, baby. you’re perfect.”

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡 "oh, you look so good," jungwon mutters, his eyes flickering between yours and the glasses perched on your nose, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. before you can respond, he’s already pushing the frames up to rest on top of your head, his hands slipping to cradle your face. “what are you—” your words are cut off as he leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips, then another, and another, each one lingering a little longer. “jungwon!” you mumble against his mouth, trying not to smile, but he just hums, completely unbothered, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “sorry, couldn’t help it,” he says, but the mischievous glint in his eyes says otherwise. “you’re too pretty, baby. i need all the kisses right now.” his lips brush yours again, and you can’t even pretend to be annoyed when he’s holding you like this.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜 “look at you, my little nerd,” riki snickers, leaning in way too close to your face just to get a reaction. “stop calling me that!” you whine, trying to shove him away, but he’s already smirking, his hands darting out to gently steal your glasses. “give those back, riki!” you protest, but he’s too quick, slipping them onto his face. “oh my god, how do you even see with these? are you blind or something?” he teases, squinting dramatically as he stumbles around the room for effect. “you’re such a loser,” he laughs, dodging your attempt to grab them back. “riki, i swear—” you start, but he cuts you off by peeking over the glasses with a cheeky grin. “okay, okay, you’re cute though,” he admits, handing them back with a wink. as you put them on, he kisses your cheek and murmurs, “but still a nerd. my hot nerd.”

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cosmicporos · 22 days ago

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Arcane character x GN! Reader on Period.

synopsis: Just some period comfort hcs with Viktor, Jayce, Vi, Ekko, Mel and Jinx!

Warning: Cursing. 18+ FOR JINX, no smut but somewhat spicy. Rest of the characters are fluff.

Please enjoy! So sorry it took me so long!

Viktor

He’s very educated on menstrual cycles to begin with! (Biology nerd)

Definitely has a calendar and keeps track of all your cycles.

The day before you’re supposed to get your period he comes home from shopping and restocks on food and pads, tampons, ibuprofen etc.

Would definitely give you a massage to help with cramps.

“Beloved?” Viktor knocked from behind the door before proceeding to enter your shared room. "I got what you needed," he said, setting down the grocery bag containing both the tampons and pads. “And these," he added, revealing a variety of your favorite chocolates, salty chips, and even a bottle of your preferred tea.

You blinked at him, your expression shifting from surprise to gratitude. "You didn't have to-"

“Tsk, tsk, tsk” He quickly shushed you. His free hand reaching to brush a strand of hair from your face. "I wanted to. Now, do me a favor and relax." Before you could protest or question any further, he knelt down by your side, his clever hands carefully lifting the edge of the blanket. "Turn over, Darling” he coaxed, and when you complied, he placed his hands on your lower back, his touch warm and deliberate.

"I read this helps," Viktor murmured as his fingers began to work small, soothing circles into your tense muscles. You feel your muscles loosen and quickly melt into Viktor’s touch.

His hands run a little on the colder side, yet they still work their magic and alleviate the pain in your abdomen.

"You're too good to me," you murmured, your voice muffled as you rested your head against your arm.

"Nonsense," Viktor replied, his voice low and unwavering. "You endure so much… this is the least I can do." He says leaving a small gentle kiss on your cheek.

Jayce

He’s the biggest softy for you on your period oh boy oh boy oh boy. He is completely at your beck and call.

He’s also super carful about your emotional during this time. He tries his hardest to leave work on time and come home!

He understands mood swings can happen and he’s very patient! He accidentally messed up and ticked you off? He’ll nod along as you lecture him and act like a kicked puppy. Then afterwards will ask if you’re okay and if you need space. Will 100% make up and apologize by getting you a sweet treat :3

Jayce finally made his way back home, shoulders heavy and tense. his tie askew and his hair slightly mussed, looking like he'd run the entire way home. You stand up from your place on the couch and place a soft kiss on his lips. “Welcome home” you smile at home before your eyes lower to see an empty handed Jayce. "You forgot?" you said quietly, your voice heavy with disappointment.

Jayce froze, guilt washing over his face. "Forgot what?"

"The heating pad," you replied, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. "You said you'd grab it on your way home. I've been in pain all day, Jayce."

His heart sank. "Oh no," he whispered moving to run a hand down his hair. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I don't know how I missed it…”. He thinks for a moment before he says, “That’s on me, and I'll fix it right now!" He turned to leave, planning to head straight back to the lab.

"No... that's alright Jayce, just please remember next time." You grab hold of his sleeve. He let out a soft sigh and turned around to face you.

"I'm so sorry about that sweetheart... Honestly I was just excited to get back home to you is all." He mumbled into your hair as he pulled you into a hug.

"No no it's fine really, it's not too big of a deal" The warmth of his body slowly encapsulating itself protectively over you.

“No you should be upset it’s okay! I’ll be more responsible next time.” His puppy eyes glowing as if he almost wanted you to be mad at him. It was incredibly difficult to deny Jayce whenever he would behave like this…

“I uh…. O-okay?…. Please do better next time.” Your eyes are looking at anything else but at him.

"... you need to be mad at me until I figure out how to make it up to you." His strong arm coming up from behind to softly pat your side. "How does that sound?"

You laugh off the pervious nerves “I think that sounds perfect" You tilt your head up to face him and press a warm soft kiss to his cheek.

Okay I feel like for Vi for some reason you two would always be synced

She’s all tough and prepared on day one until day two hits and… that’s a different story

You always end up completely staying home together on the second day of your periods

You groaned as another cramp hit, curling further into yourself under the layers of warmth. Next to you, Vi let out a sharp exhale through her nose, gripping the heat pack on her stomach.

"This is some sick joke," Vi muttered, her voice heavy with irritation. She shifts on the bed, but the movement only made her wince. "I could take a punch to the gut, no problem, but this? This is worse than any fight I've been in."

You scoot closer towards Vi drapes an arm over you, pulling you snug against her chest. Her hand found your hair, fingers threading through it lazily.

"We're a mess," you mumbled into her tank top.

"Yeah," she admitted, pressing her cheek against the top of your head. "But at least we're a mess together."

Vi is totally one to do a complete 180 on the next day.

While you’re still dying of pain she manages to get out of bed early and heads to the store to pick up some stuff

Vi's heavy boots thudded softly against the floor, the sound bringing a flicker of relief. "Alright, babe," her familiar rasp broke the silence, “I got a couple of things for you”

“Don’t you mean us?” You sit up straight and tilt your head a little confused.

“Oh no, I’m doing fine sweetheart don’t you worry. But… I know you probably still feel like a sack of shit so I picked up some goodies for you.” she pulled out an assortment of snacks like chips, gummy candy, soda, juice..(if it had sugar she’s go it!…)

“If these cramps won’t kill me… the amount of sugar here will…” Your eyebrows furrowed at the mess of snacks in front of you.

“Oh pip down will you? Haven’t even gotten to the best part.” What she pulled out next made your breath hitch. It was a small, ridiculously cute plushie. A chubby fox with big shiny eyes and a fluffy tail. Vi plopped it onto your lap as she smirked from your reaction. “Cute huh?” She sits down next to you. “I picked it out cuz it reminded me of you”

Your face flushed instantly, a mix of embarrassment and warmth flooding through you. You picked up the fox, turning it over in your hands. Its fluffy tail was so soft it almost felt unreal, and the wide, shiny eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim light of the room. "Reminded you of me?" you asked, glancing at Vi with a raised brow.

“Yeah well… it’s cute and small.. so it reminds me of you.” She leaned back against the headboard, “And it’s a little spunky. Just like you.”

You roll your eyes and softly punch her shoulder. "It does cheer me up," you admitted softly, clutching the plush fox closer. "Thank you, Vi."

She wraps an arm around you shoulder and pulls you in “No problem Cupcake, anything for you.”

Ekko

HES PANICKING

but in the outside he’s cool as a cucumber

The inside? oh god. He’s stressing out about making sure all your needs are met.

You are not allowed to go on missions during this time at all. He doesn’t exactly forbid it per say but he does shoot a glare whenever you flinch due to the pain of your cramps. He’s always behind you making sure you’re okay

He’s like a little momma bird

You were currently getting ready for a mission, bag laying across the table as you carefully prepare stuffing it full of food, medical supplies, bombs and your trusty lock pick. Ekko leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with that ever so perceptive gaze of his.

"You good?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, fine," you replied, wincing as another cramp twisted in your stomach. You shake your head cursing at your own reaction.

He was by your side in seconds, gently taking the pack from your hands. "You're lying."

“Ekko please…” you straightened your back. "I'm fine," you insisted, reaching for the pack again, but Ekko held it out of reach.

reach.

"You think I don't notice you wincing every five seconds?" His voice softened, though his eyes stayed firm. "You can't go out like this.”

“I’m not some baby. Believe me I’ll be just fine.”you protested, though even you could hear how unconvincing you

“Look… you sound way too unconvincing and because you’re way too stubborn…” He paused looking at you and finally smiling. “How about I skip out on this mission too? And you know.. take care of my girl?.” A proud and playful smile adorns his lips while he waits for your response.

You’re a little surprised, not because he doesn’t put you first but because he’s allowing himself to relax in a way as well. “Are you sure about that?" you ask, your voice softer than you intended. "I mean... this mission sounds important. I don't want you to–“

"Stop." He cuts you off gently, stepping closer. The distance between you shrinks, and you feel his hand come to rest on your shoulder, steady and warm. "I've been out there long enough to know the world ain't gonna fall apart if I sit one out." He takes a deep breath and continues, "I know I push myself too hard sometimes. And yeah, protecting our people is important and all, but so is being here. With you. What's the point of fighting if I can't take a moment to enjoy what I'm fighting for?"

“Ekko…” His words hit you harder than you expected, the vulnerability in them catching you off guard.

"Yeah firefly?…” He tilts his head, watching you carefully. His hands fidgeting together like a nervous child.

You let out a small sigh, your resolve crumbling. "Just... don't make a habit of this, okay? The Firelights need you."

"They'll manage," he says with a wink. "I'll make it up to 'em. Promise." He finally makes his way over to you placing a small kiss on your neck before continuing. “But let me make it up to you first okay?”

Jinx

18+

Okay jinx is an absolute horndog when you’re on your period

You got cramps? Uhhhh…. Solution????… her mouth and fingers.

“Love bug come onnnnnn! You know making you cum will help with cramps! What’s the big deal?” She sighed dramatically flopping over the table in front of her.

“Love bug?…” You questioned. “And the deal is I’m on my period!…. I don’t want to make a big mess for you to deal with okay.” You huffed out embarrassed at her playful yet lewd antics.

“Yeah! Love bug cuz you love me and you’re always buzzing around me! Like a bug!” Jinx proudly exclaimed her bright idea of a nickname, perhaps a bit too proudly… “And besides! Me?… care about a mess? You’re kidding right?” she looks almost offended but the fact you assumed she wouldn't do this for you.

“Jinx… I just feel gross okay… I don’t really feel super desirable right now.” You sighed placing your face into your hands.

She bangs her fists on the table and jumps up from her seat. “You’re fucking joking right? You’re smoking babe. SMOKING. Like SMOKING HOT! Her arms waved around as she talked to draw out more emphasis to her claim. She lets out a playful scoff “It’s taking every fiber of my being to not pounce on you right now!”

“Jinx… knock it off…” you bit your lip embarrassed and turned away. “I know that isn’t true at all… quit being too nice.”

“Doll…. You’re way too into your own head! I’m saying I wanna bang and you think I’m lyin?” She puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head. “No no no we can’t be having that! Doll come here.”

Your expression as you looked at her told Jinx you in fact did not know who to believe. You’re corrupt emotions or your loving girlfriend? Either way you walked to her and stopped till you were in front of her. She quickly cupped your face and pulled you into a deep inviting kiss. Her hands roam softly along your body, gently holding and squeezing every part she loved.

She breaks away from the kiss and looks at you, her voice more serious than you’d like it to be. “Y/N you’re always going to be perfect to me, there’s no way in hell l’d ever be grossed out by you.” She leans in closer and softly leaves kisses along your collar “Besides I wanna love you. I wanna make you feel so crazy good you won’t even remember all your dumb troubles.”

Mel

MEL MEL MEL MEL MEL 😻 fancy rich lady who spoils you

While I do think she’ll still be super busy with work, she’ll most definitely make sure your body is been taken care of.

She lets the chef know your nutritional needs, taking notes you need more iron in your diet.

And when she does come home it’s all kisses, cuddles and praise getting sent your way!

Since she could remember, Mel could take care of just about anything. It didn’t matter if it was a delicate political negotiation or ensuring you felt cared for on your worst days, she had an effortless way of making you feel like the center of her world

The moment she left for the council meeting that morning, you heard her speaking quietly with the private chef, listing off ingredients and dietary adjustments with her usual precision. "She needs more iron," you overheard her say, her voice warm yet firm. "Spinach, lentils, maybe some lean meat. And add something sweet but not too high in sugar content. She deserves to enjoy herself, but make sure it stay healthy for my sake.

Hours later, as you lay curled up on the couch, a warm blanket draped over you, the scent of something savory wafted through the air. The chef had outdone himself, delivering a meal tailored exactly to what your body needed, paired with a small plate of indulgent chocolate covered fruits. It brought a soft smile to your lips. Mel always thought of everything, she always thought of you.

the front door finally opened, the sound of her heels clicking on the marble floor announced her arrival. You craned your neck to look at her, and the moment her golden eyes landed on you, her expression softened.

"There's my love," she murmured, setting her things aside and making a beeline for you.

"Hello darling, long day?" you asked, your voice soft.

"Not anymore," she replied, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before settling beside you on the couch. Her hand came up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin. "How are you feeling? Did you eat?"

You nodded. "The food was perfect. Thank you for taking care of it."

“Oh? So you heard me did you?”She hummed in satisfaction, pulling you gently into her. Her arms wrapped around you snugly, her fingers trailing softly along your back in soothing patterns. "You've been so strong," she whispered. "But you don't have to be right now. Let me take care of you”

You melted into her embrace, feeling the tension in your body ease as she held you. "You deserve the world," she murmured, her voice full of affection. "And I intend to give it to you, one kiss or gentle word at a time. You will be shown my love”

ERM SO A LINE FROM JAYCE’S PART IS FROM XAVIER’S NEW CARD FROM LOVE AND DEEPSPACE! I recently pulled it and oh my god…. It’s been stuck in my mind…. ANYWAYS HOPE YOU ENJOYED

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steddieprompts · 24 days ago

Text

Another cutesy little steddie thing. all fluff. Post vecna. 1648 words.

---

It’s not that Eddie was a wuss…

Ok maybe he was, but still this was a terrifying prospect… asking Steve Harrington out.

It didn’t help that he was getting advice from a 15 year old.

“Do you think he likes you back?” Dustin asked, tapping a pencil against his chin.

“I don’t know, Henderson,” Eddie ran his hands over his face. What was he doing? “You’re supposed to be helping me figure that out.”

Dustin tapped his chin again and looked at the ceiling.

In all honesty, Eddie would usually talk to Jeff about this stuff, but he had to be visiting his family in Ohio because of stupid Thanksgiving.

“Well, you guys hang out a lot, that’s gotta count for something.” Dustin pointed out.

“You hang out a lot with Sinclair and Wheeler. You wanna make out with them?” Dustin pulled a face. “That’s what I thought.”

“I am happily in a relationship, thanks.” Dustin pointed out.

He always had a reason to point it out.

“I know, and I would like to be as well, so if we could get back to the discussion at hand…”

“Ok, ok… Well, Steve hasn’t really been dating recently… right?”

“No, he hasn’t.”

“Maybe that means something?”

“I don’t know… He says he just hasn’t met the right person yet…”

“Well… he used ‘person,’ not ‘girl!’ That’s a good sign!” Dustin pointed his pencil at Eddie.

“Sure, but you’re missing a key point in that statement.” Eddie sighed. Dustin squinted at him. “He’s met me, Dustin.”

Dustin’s eyebrows shot up. “Fair point.”

Eddie dropped his face into his hands. Dustin started up again.

“Your idea that Steve might like you is a hypothesis and science dictates that the only way to conclude if a hypothesis is correct is to prove it. To run experiments.”

Eddie let out a belabored sigh.

“So, test it,” Dustin continued. “Ask Steve out.”

Eddie stared at Dustin, knowing he was right in his own little, nerd way.

“Yeah… Ok, alright, yeah, I’ll do it.”

\\\\\\\

The next day was movie night at Steve’s with the whole crew. The kids, Nancy, and Robin were all in the living room putting out snacks and arguing about where they would sit. Eddie figured now was as good a time as any. He crossed over to the kitchen, meandering over to Steve who was waiting for the popcorn in the microwave.

“Hey.” Eddie offered once he was a few feet away. Nailed it.

“Hey,” Steve looked over at him, “how’s physical therapy going? I’ve been meaning to call you, see if you needed any help.” Steve responded with a soft smile at Eddie, the kind that made all the nervous energy in him disappear. The microwave beeped and Steve pulled the popcorn out, hissing when he grabbed the hot part of the bag before dropping it in one of the big plastic bowls he had waiting.

Eddie grabbed another bag out of the box, unfolded it and handed it to Steve.

“Uh, good, good, I guess. I never really know if I’m doing the exercises right. The paper instructions are shit.”

Steve laughed at that, “Yeah, I’ve been there. I could come over some time, help you figure them out?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. That would be great… actually.” Eddie swallowed. “But, uh, before that happens, I, uh, I have to ask you something.” Eddie stumbled over the words before looking over his shoulder, making sure no one else would be witness to him getting shot down by Steve Harrington, even if he was in a house full of friends.

“Yeah?” Steve turned toward Eddie, leaned his hip against the counter, the picture of nonchalance.

“Yeah,” Eddie cleared his throat, “Would you, uh, ever consider, maybe… shit. Start over.” Eddie clamped his jaw in a grimace before starting again. He couldn’t look at Steve yet. If he saw any bit of apprehension or negative emotion, he would never actually get the full question out. “Would you like to go out… on a date… with me?”

Eddie finally looked at Steve instead of the cabinet behind his head. His initial look gave him nothing. Steve looked the same, if not a little more still, a little more focused. But he wasn’t saying anything. The nervous energy was back with a vengeance and Eddie was starting to feel twitchy the longer Steve stared at him.

And then Lucas walked into the kitchen.

“Is this one ready?” he asked, pulling the bowl with the popcorn bag in it across the counter. The microwave behind Steve beeped. He was still staring at Eddie. Eddie was still staring at Steve.

“Uh-huh.” Steve answered.

“Should I get that one out?” Lucas asked.

“I’ll get it in a second,” Steve said, his eyes now roaming over Eddie’s face.

“I don’t mind.” Lucas offered.

“Dude.” Steve’s eyes finally left Eddie and he felt himself deflate a little bit, muscles twinging from where he had been clenching them. “I’ll get it. Can you give us a minute?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah? Sure?” Lucas replied, quickly grabbing the bowl and heading back towards the living room.

Steve’s eyes flicked back to Eddie and he felt suddenly compelled to talk. Like a tidal wave, his insecurities drowned him.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung this on you. I’m not your type, I know. I—”

“Yes.”

“Don’t even know if…” Eddie stopped to process what Steve said. “Yes? Yes, I’m not your type or yes you… you want to…”

“Yes. I’ll go out with you.”

Eddie finally looked at Steve, really took him in instead of concentrating on not collapsing in on himself. Steve looked almost… shy? Nervous? There was the slightest blush on his neck, the smallest, guarded smile. He, Eddie now noticed, had been white knuckling his own arm ever since Eddie asked.

Interesting.

Eddie relaxed a little. “Yeah?”

Steve’s smile grew bigger as he nodded. “Yeah.”

Eddie couldn’t help the smile that took over his face. He did it. He asked Steve out. And Steve said yes! What’s more, Steve looked caught off guard in the best way possible. “Oh, just you wait, Harrington. I’m gonna wine and dine you like you’ve never been wined and dined before.” Eddie grinned.

“The popcorn’s getting cold! What’s taking you guys so long!” Dustin yelled from the living room.

Steve turned to the microwave to get the popcorn and Eddie reveled in Steve’s smile. The way it looked like he was restraining it, the way Steve looked lighter than he had in weeks.

They walked back to the living room together, and Eddie kicked Mike off the couch so he could sit next to Steve. Halfway through the movie, Steve slipped his hand into Eddie’s. On impulse, he pulled Steve’s hand up to kiss the back of it, before shifting closer and leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder. When he felt the press of Steve’s head on top of his he thought maybe he was dead. Maybe the bats had finished him off and he was in heaven.

He would have to thank Dustin for pushing him to ask Steve. He would never hear the end of it.

When the movie ended and everyone was leaving, Eddie hung around the living room so he would be the last to go. He refolded the blankets, rewound the tape and put it back in its box, and picked up the popcorn bowls and candy wrappers. He was in the kitchen throwing things out, thinking maybe he had enough time to run to the bathroom, when Steve reappeared.

“Everyone head out?” Eddie asked as Steve approached him.

“Mhmm.” He replied before stepping around the kitchen island and stopping in front of Eddie. “Coast is clear.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie grinned, stepping closer.

“Mmm,” Steve hummed before leaning in, pressing his lips to Eddie’s.

Eddie had kissed quite a few people before, boys and girls alike, but this kiss with Steve. It was different. It filled him up, distracted him from everything else so that when his back hit the counter it almost startled him.

“Sorry.” Steve hummed, pulling away.

“Don’t be.” Eddie managed to get out before pulling Steve back in. He was definitely in heaven. Except in heaven, he wouldn’t be almost peeing his pants. Curse that whole bottle of coke.

Eddie pulled back with a soft, ‘shit.’

“You okay?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, fantastic, great. Except I think I’m about to pee my pants. Don’t go anywhere, Big Boy.” Eddie said before practically running to the bathroom, Steve’s surprised laughter following him down the hall.

When he got back, Steve was washing the popcorn bowls and pizza plates from earlier in the night, sweater pushed up to his elbows, the locks of hair hanging in his eyes swinging with his movements. Eddie stepped up behind him and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist.

“No one has ever asked me out.” Steve said after a few seconds.

“What?” Eddie let go in surprise, moving next to Steve so he could see his face. “Seriously?”

Steve nodded.

“The way girls talked about you I would have thought they would be lining up.” Eddie mused.

“No. I’m the guy, you know? I mean they definitely dropped hints, but none of them asked me.”

Eddie reveled in that for a second. He was the first person to ask Steve Harrington out.

“So, how does it feel being on the receiving end?” Eddie asked, nudging Steve.

“So good.” Steve smiled at him, the sincerity of his words bleeding out of him so much that Eddie had to dart forward and peck him on the cheek.

“Where do you want to go?” Eddie asked.

“You said you were gonna wine and dine me,” Steve replied, “I trust you.”

Those words sent a bolt of pure reassurance through Eddie. “Oh, Steve Harrington,” he half sing-songed, half chuckled, “I’m gonna date you so hard.”

#steddie

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froggiewrites · 2 months ago

Text

Fanboy

Pairing: Law x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You get a little more than you bargained for when you decide to clean your Captain's office for him and stumble upon his smutty fanfiction. Warnings: Very Mild Angst, Smut, Fem!Reader, Roleplay, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Edging, Minor Dacryphilia, Petnames (use of sweetheart and good girl) Word Count: 7.6k Notes: This was originally supposed to be a sub 2000 word silly one shot about Law writing Sora smut. As you can see, it very quickly got out of hand. I hope you all enjoy it!

You have come to terms with the fact your Captain does not and will never want you how you want him.

It was hard, at first, to hear his silky voice and see his strong hands and not imagine him saying what you want to hear as he holds you against the wall, fingers slipping slowly up your thighs to where you need him most. It got even harder a few years in, after he started wearing perpetually open shirts and coats, showing off the tattoos you so desperately want to trace your tongue across. But you’re finally starting to accept that he simply doesn’t feel the same. His eyes don’t linger on you when you’re around. He doesn’t show you any leniency (not that you would expect any, of course, but it’s hard not to notice his favoritism for Bepo when he forgives him in an instant for a transgression he had you swab the deck for). He doesn’t accept your help when you offer it, no matter how badly he needs it.

He just doesn’t really want anything to do with you, or at least no more to do with you than anyone else on the ship. Penguin and Shachi, who unfortunately clocked your affection for your Captain years ago, have come up with a long list of excuses as to why he hasn’t shown any signs of affection.

“He’s shy.”

“He gets embarrassed easily.”

“He’s worried about the power gap.”

“He only looks at you when you aren’t looking.”

“Yelling is how he shows his affection.”

And of course, your personal favorite.

“He’s just a nerd. He doesn’t know how to act around women.”

Shachi has repeated this one a lot, and as always you immediately dispute it. “That cannot possibly be true, Shachi.”

“Why not?”

“Look at him!”

“I know what he looks like. Doesn’t change the fact he gets nervous.”

“Captain has never, for even a single moment, shown any sort of hesitation or shyness in front of me. And he’s a grown man, a handsome one, not to mention a wanted pirate. You honestly expect me to believe he’s some shy little nerd who can’t bring himself to talk to me? He just doesn’t like me, Shachi. And that’s fine. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

“Handle what?” Penguin’s voice echoes in the small room he and Shachi share, which you’ve decided to invade for the day.

“Her pining for Captain.”

“Ah.”

You huff. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s like…a fact of life. Something so easy to brush past.”

Shachi narrows his eyes in confusion. “I thought you said that’s what you wanted to do. Be casual about it, and all.”

“Yeah, I want to. It feels different when you do it.” You’re pouting. You hate that you’re pouting.

Penguin gives you a pitying smile, dripping with good natured sympathy that makes you clench your jaw. “It’s tough, isn’t it?” He sits on the edge of his bed, careful not to shift you too much. He pats your shoulder, tutting quietly. “It’s hard to get over somebody you don’t really want to get over.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. You finally lift your head, and once you make eye contact, his smile turns a little more teasing.

“I know a great guy you could use as a rebound.”

You sigh. “Is it you?”

He laughs. “Who’s to say? You don’t need him yet.” His smile softens again, something more genuine. “But know that if you really do give up, there will be other guys. Other chances. Give this one a good shot, a real one, and if it doesn’t work out? Come talk to us, and it’ll all be alright.”

Shachi pipes up as well. “It will work out, really. But if it doesn’t…” he wiggles his eyebrows, and you can’t help but finally give them the laugh they were clearly aiming for. Which becomes a full on giggle fit once they light up and give each other a massive high five at their victory. The room is warm, and you finally forget your worries for a moment.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Law’s voice cuts through you like ice, and your laughter stops in an instant. Shachi and Penguin are unphased, of course, still smiling freely.

“I just got off of my shift, Captain. I was going to take a nap, but…” Penguin pokes your side, and you let out a soft squeak as you curl in on yourself. You don’t miss the way Law’s eyes narrow slightly at the contact, the way he seems to focus in on the noise. He must be annoyed with you, with how you’re taking up space somewhere you don’t belong.

“I’m also off shift.” Your voice is small, embarrassingly so.

“I wasn’t talking to you two.” Law’s voice is just as flat and authoritative as always. He’s nothing if not born to command. You’d love to hear what commands he might give you, if–

No. Bad. Evil. Your mind betrays you, as it always does. You sit up so you can hide yourself behind Penguin, make yourself small and inconspicuous and hope that Law will stop looking at you with those beautiful piercing eyes. You don’t know how long you can be normal under such an intense gaze.

“I’m on break,” Shachi defends, causing Law’s eyes to shift over to him. You can’t help but let out a sigh of relief as you feel the pressure of his gaze leave you, and you wrap your arms lightly around Penguin, allowing your forehead to fall forward and press into his back. You can feel the rumble of a laugh working its way through his chest, though you can’t figure out why.

Law’s voice is significantly harsher than before. “Well, end it.” You flinch, unused to him snapping quite so cruelly. Law may have a shorter temper than he would admit, but he never sounds quite so furious, especially not with Shachi and Penguin. He seems to realize this as well, because the next time he speaks is much gentler. “I–Just get back to work. I need everyone at their best right now.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” There’s a hint of chuckle in Shachi’s voice, for some reason. He stands, bed creaking as he does. “You can use my bed if you want to nap in here. Let Peng have his.”

You let out a soft whine, but peel yourself off of Penguin anyway. “No, it’s fine, I should get back to my room anyway. I need a nap before I do anything else.” You think you see Law nodding in approval out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn to look at him, his eyes are firmly on Shachi, glaring at his back as he leaves. Just wishful thinking on your part, as always.

Penguin softly pats your back as you walk past. “Chin up. It’ll all work out.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“What’ll work out?” Law is staring at Penguin’s hand on your back.

“Nothing!” You try not to sound panicked. You fail, of course.

His eyes narrow.

“Sorry, Captain. This is a secret just for us lowly crew members. No captains allowed!” Penguin’s smile is relaxed and easy, and it almost manages to calm you down. You would love to play along, make a little joke out of it, but the idea of him finding out petrifies you. What if he’s disgusted by the idea? Horrified enough to kick you out of the crew, your home, your family? He wouldn’t, you know that, but the image in your head is so clear. Your chest feels tight, your head fuzzy, and you think at some point you started holding your breath.

Law makes a noncommittal grunt, scowl still clear on his face, but he leaves. A small mercy.

“Hey, take a breath, please. You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

“Are you gonna be alright to get back to your room? Do you need me to walk you?” Penguin’s hand rests gently on your elbow, and he looks ready to jump to your aid at any moment.

You give him a shaky smile. “I’ll be alright. Anxiety’s never killed anyone. Probably.” You take care to walk as steadily as you can out of the room, avoiding eye contact with your Captain, who’s waiting directly outside.

“You okay?” His voice stops you in your tracks.

“Yeah, I’m–” You see the disbelief on his face. “I’ve been better. But it’s okay. I’ll get there.”

“Are Penguin and Shachi giving you trouble? They mean well, but sometimes their jokes can go a little far. I–” He clears his throat, eyes glancing away for a moment. “I could talk to them. If you need me to.”

You chuckle. This means he really has no idea he’s the source of your anguish. Good. “Oh, no, it’s nothing like that. They’re actually helping me through something.”

He purses his lips. You imagine how soft they’d feel on yours. “Helping you through something?”

“Yeah. I’ve been struggling with it lately, and talking to them has really helped.” You stare intensely at the wall behind him, worrying that you’ll come undone and say something you can’t take back if you stare into his eyes for too long. Something about him just makes you want to melt under his gaze, and you can’t afford to give in to the impulse.

He hums, eyes briefly fluttering closed. “I see. Well, I’m glad you have their support.” Is it just you, or is his voice a bit colder than it was before? “I’ll leave you be. Have a nice nap.”

“Thanks, Captain.” You try not to run back to your room until you’re sure he can’t hear your footsteps anymore. You change out of your boiler suit, desperate to be in something more comfortable than this, and throw yourself into your bed face first. You press your face into your pillow, trying to ground yourself. You aren’t allowed to imagine what it would feel like to lay on Law’s chest instead, his hands on your back, tracing meaningless patterns into your skin. You aren’t allowed to imagine the warmth of the blankets as his, or the comfort of your weighted blanket as his arm around your back. You certainly aren’t allowed to cry about the fact that it isn’t him, and that it never will be. Because that would mean you weren’t getting over him, instead getting lost in a fantasy of what can never and will never be. And you have no time for fantasy, despite what your heart keeps trying to tell you.

You dream of him, as you always seem to.

You could cope with it, if it were simply sex. If it were about nothing more than his cock and his hands and the way his voice penetrates deep into your bones whenever you hear it, turning you pliable and needy. But today’s dream is one you’ve had before, and one you always dread.

I love you. His hands are gentle as they wrap around your waist, pulling you close. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. His nose nuzzles against your neck, tickling you and making you giggle.

I love you too, Law. I think I always have. Your hands rest on his chest, and you can feel his heart beating below your fingers, quick and thundering. You smile. Nervous?

Of course I am. Look at you. His eyes bore into yours, and you can see the affection flooding them. His nose brushes against yours, his lips growing closer, and his eyes flutter shut.

Yours shoot open.

No matter how many dreams you have about Law, you can never kiss him. How sad, that your brain can imagine a hundred ways he can fuck you and not one in which gives you the one thing you’ve been craving most.

You throw off your covers and throw on a bra, not bothering to get fully dressed. You need some air, which is unfortunate, considering the Tang won’t surface for at least another day or two. You can at least go downstairs and find a window, press yourself against the glass and pretend you’re out in the cold of the ocean, at peace with the world around you. You can avoid passing Law’s office, and hopefully that means you’ll avoid the man himself. You don’t want to burst into tears the moment you see him, and you feel too soft and fragile right now, like your edges are crumbling. Half of you is still in the dream, melting into fantasy, and being snapped into reality with a single look might shatter you.

You pad quietly out into the hallway, unsure of what time it is, not wanting to wake anyone. It’s impossible to tell what time of day it is on the Tang when you’re underwater, lit only by harsh fluorescents that constantly buzz. It’s peaceful, feeling the cold metal of the floors seep through your socks and hearing the quiet thunk of your footsteps muffled by the fabric.

“Are you heading downstairs?”

You turn to see Bepo, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, papers in hand. “Yeah, I am. Why? Do you need something?”

“Can you run these to Captain for me? I would, but–”

You see him wince as he speaks, and you immediately know what the problem is. Before you can even think about it, you’re swiping the papers from his hands easily. “Yeah, of course, big guy. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you so much!” He’s off in an instant.

You stare at the papers, willing yourself into reality. You’re going to bring something to your captain. The man you have no other relationship with. Just doing your job. And afterwards you can go back to your room and cry all you want, if you really feel like you need to.

Law should be in his office right now, buried up to his neck in paperwork. It doesn’t feel great to add to that pile, or to let him see you so underdressed, but Bepo needed help. You can’t let him suffer just to avoid some embarrassment. You make your way down, knocking lightly against his office door.

No voice calls you inside.

Strange. He should be here. Maybe he fell asleep at his desk again. You’ve heard the others scold him for that dozens of times, and you’ve caught him yourself once or twice. He’s going to ruin his back if he keeps doing that. You crack open the door, ready to shift him into a more comfortable position, but you find your Captain isn’t actually there at all. His desk is a mess, papers everywhere, a sharp contrast from the neatly organized shelves and minimalist look of the rest of the room.

“Maybe I should tidy up for him,” you mutter to yourself. Law hates asking for help with things he believes he should be able to handle on his own, but clearly this is getting away from him. And even if he wasn’t grateful for the intrusion, at least it might lighten his load a little. You’d do nearly anything to ease your Captain’s burdens, if he’d just let you.

Before you realize it, your hands are on the papers, your former fragility forgotten as you get lost in the calm that such a mundane task brings you. You start by simply organizing the papers into stacks based on their titles and a quick skim of their opening paragraphs. You don’t read any further, not wanting to read anything not meant for your eyes, and you quickly find you’re able to organize everything into three neat stacks: medical papers, ship logs, and a third stack of anything that doesn’t fit into the previous two. You’re nearly finished when you find a title that makes you pause.

You can’t figure out what What You Can’t Have could mean, or what this bundle of papers is doing in Law’s office. Skimming the first few paragraphs doesn’t give you any explanation, until you start reading more closely and see a name: Sora.

Everyone in the North Blue knows about Sora, Warrior of the Sea, and everyone on this ship knows it more intimately than most. Your Captain’s fondness for the series and your fondness for him means you know it very well, well enough to know this is not one of the noncanonical (but still official) spinoff novels, or a novel adaptation of one of the comics. There’s a character you’ve never heard of before in this, one that, if you were a more paranoid person, you would suspect is based on you. She can’t be, of course. That would be ridiculous. But as you read her introductory paragraph, you can’t help but notice she bears a striking physical resemblance to you. Same hair and eye color, same height, same build. But she can’t be you. She’s described as seductive, enchanting, and many other things you know nobody would ever say about you.

You should put this down. But the writing style is so familiar, and so are the handwritten edits in the margins. Your captain wrote this. You had no idea this was what he did in what little spare time he has. You keep telling yourself to stop reading, to tuck it away and pretend you didn’t see it, because really, you know he wouldn’t want you to have seen it, easily embarrassed as he is. But there’s so much passion in the words, so much care, and frankly? It’s good. Really good. You think he has some real talent, in something you would have never expected him to even try. His care for the series oozes from every word, and he’s really good at building tension, and–

Oh.

Your captain hasn’t just been writing fanfiction about his favorite hero.

He’s been writing smut.

Really good smut, honestly.

You lean against the desk, completely enraptured by his work. The tension between Sora and this unnamed woman is astonishing, every single word winding you up tighter as you wait for the dam to break. Before you know it, you’re fully bent over the desk, clutching the page in your hands, trying not to rub your thighs together at the very graphic descriptions of what Sora is doing with his hands. You imagine Law’s hands, lithe and long, sliding under your shirt like Sora’s do under this mystery woman’s. You imagine his breath puffing against your ear as he instructs, be good for me, now, and maybe you can finally get what you want, just like Sora does. You imagine him moving impossibly closer, feeling his hardness press into your thigh as–

“What are you doing in here?”

You freeze. Your captain is standing in the door, papers in hand and scowl severe. If you didn’t know better, you would think for a moment his eyes lingered on the cleavage you’re showing by leaning over this far. But you do know better, so you tell yourself he’s simply observing the papers in your hands, even if his gaze seems aimed too high for that. You shoot up, papers still in hand, shirt riding up in the process, and god does it look like his eyes dip down to your exposed midriff in the process. But they don’t. You have more pressing matters than your delusions, anyway.

“Hi Captain!”

“...Hi.”

“I–Um. I was organizing your desk for you.”

His eyes linger on the three stacks of papers, humming quietly. “I see that. …Why?”

“Bepo had me run papers down to you, but you weren’t here, and–and your desk was so messy, so much messier than usual, and I was worried maybe you were overwhelmed and I thought it might help.” You’re speaking a mile a minute, clutching the papers close to your chest in some desperate attempt to ground yourself, but the sound of the papers wrinkling causes him to glance down and now you’re sure that just for a moment he was looking at your boobs and you’re far more flustered than you were when you began.

And even worse, he smiles. It’s a soft, gentle thing, which sneaks so slowly onto his face you don’t even know if he realizes it’s there. But it is. And it’s beautiful. “Thank you, then. I appreciate the thought.”

Your grip eases on the papers for a second, and the crinkling brings his attention back to them. You don’t know what gives it away, but with the way his eyes widen slightly, the way his lips part, you know that he knows what you have in your hands. The way he whispers your name, the fear in it, makes your heart clench.

“Captain–”

“Did you–I–” He takes a breath, gathers himself. “Did you read anything you weren’t supposed to?”

God, you did. You’re halfway through a sex scene, flushed and flustered and thinking about your captain in ways that are wholly and completely inappropriate. You’re panicking. You can’t let Law see how flustered you are, can’t let him realize that you were fantasizing about him, lusting after him in his office while he’s out like some kind of pervert. So, trying to turn this around on him, throw him off his rhythm, you decide to make a deeply out of character choice.

You open your mouth, taking a dramatic breath as though you're going to start reading aloud, and you can see the panic in Law's eyes. Before you can decide between reading and handing it over to spare him the embarrassment, you hear “Shambles!” as the papers in your hand are swapped with the ones he walked in with. You're momentarily disappointed, before you look down and are struck with intense and all consuming delight.

In trying to get the fanfiction out of your hands, Law has, in fact, given you more of his fanfiction to read.

You gasp quietly, cheshire cat grin widening. Law looks at you with confusion, clearly still so thrown he hasn't realized what's just transpired. In your current state, you can only think of one way to inform him.

"Her hands were soft and gentle, so small compared to his-"

"STOP." He lunges forward around the desk, powers forgotten as he decides to bullrush you to get the papers out of your hands. His hands wrap around your wrists, and before you know it you’re pinned against the desk, chests pressed together, his leg pressed between your thighs. You flush, overwhelmed by the sensation of his hard body against yours, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Do you think this is funny?”

You open your mouth to respond, but his lips are so close, and you feel something else pressing into your midriff. You make a small choked noise, and his glare doesn’t dampen.

“Are you trying to embarrass your captain?”

“I–uh–Captain–” You can barely squeak out anything, and he presses closer.

“Answer me.”

“You’re so close.”

He pauses.

He blinks.

And suddenly your captain is across the room, face bright red, holding his papers in front of his chest like a shield. “I–um.” He stares at you a moment, his eyes moving from your face to your chest to your hips and back up, and suddenly the papers shifts down in front of his crotch.

He couldn’t…

Could he?

Before you can process this, he’s speaking again, his tone far less authoritative than it was before. “How far did you read?”

“Uh–pretty far.”

You could swear his voice cracks a little as he whispers, “Oh god. This is–you were never supposed to see that.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep reading, it was just–it was really good.”

He stares at you a moment, mouth agape. “What?”

“It was–I liked it a lot. I didn’t even mean to start it, I just couldn’t figure out what pile to put it in, and then I got really invested, and–I’m really, really sorry, Captain.”

“You liked it?” His eyes are narrowed, looking at you like something dangerous, like if he shows a moment of weakness you’ll pounce. He approaches you slowly, inching closer and closer.

“...Yeah. I did. I was really impressed, actually. I didn’t know you were a writer.”

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t call myself that.”

“Why?”

“I just…don’t know if I’m good at it.” He sounds small in a way you’ve never heard him. You’ve never seen Law less than confident before. He absolutely radiates it, a constant smug grin and twinkle in his eyes. It suits him far better than slumped shoulders and wringing hands.

“Are you kidding? It was amazing. What I was able to read, anyway. I couldn’t bear to put it down.” You reach for him for just a moment, your hand ready to touch his shoulder, but something in you pulls it back. You can’t bring yourself to touch him, not as you are.

He won’t look at you. You can feel his regret in sharing, in allowing his mask to crack slightly. There’s a bitterness to his tone as he snaps at you like a wounded animal. “You expect me to believe that? That you didn’t just read it to laugh at me?”

You can’t keep the pity off of your face. His first instinct is always to believe he’ll be hurt, that an open hand is a sign of a slap, and not a kind touch. “Why on earth would I do that, Captain?”

His shoulders unknot a bit as he thinks it over. You have never done anything to hurt him, and to tease in such a cruel way is not in your nature. He’s not relaxed, not quite, but he isn’t ready to run anymore. He leans against a nearby table, parking himself at a distance but assuring you he won’t go further. “I suppose you wouldn’t. …So you really liked it?”

The way he’s looking at you is so fragile, so soft. You feel your heart clench at the sight of such a guarded man looking so adorable, though you know he would hate to be called such a thing. You can’t help the affection that leaks into your gentle smile as you look at him. “I really did.”

He huffs, trying to bring back up his walls, but he can’t hide his relief, and his continued interest. “What did you like about it?”

“I thought the descriptions were very vivid. It was…” It feels like crossing a line you can’t uncross to call it hot, but he’s looking at you so expectantly. “Very stimulating.”

Something akin to a smirk grows on his face, offset by the dust of a blush on his cheeks. His voice is an octave deeper when he speaks. “Simulating?”

You shiver. “I–uh–yes. The leads had really good chemistry. I never imagined Sora would be so…charming. And I liked the woman too, though I have to admit I didn’t recognize her name.”

He nods. “You wouldn’t. She’s an original character.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I wanted to try my hand at something new, and I didn’t like pairing him with any of the canon characters so I just…made one up.”

You shift nervously on your feet, thinking about how remarkably familiar her description was. “So you made her just for this? Didn’t even give her a name?”

“I haven’t decided her name yet, but I’m working on it. And yeah, she’s just for this. Why?”

You want to be subtle, ease your way in, but your mind is running a mile a minute and frankly subtlety has never been your strong suit anyway. “So…is she supposed to be me?”

He shoots up so quickly he nearly falls over. “What? No! No, why would you think that?” He looks absolutely mortified, like he’s praying the floor swallows him whole. He looks about two seconds away from shambling himself out of the sub and letting the ocean take him away.

“Well in her intro, when you describe her…she looks a lot like me.”

“...She does?” He seems genuinely surprised, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Why are you asking? You’re the writer! You didn’t realize?”

“No, I…” He’s blushing to the tips of his ears. “She was just supposed to be a beautiful woman. I didn’t think that hard about what she looked like beyond that.”

“She has the same hair color and eye color as me, you describe her as around my height, and the dress she’s wearing in her intro is my favorite color.”

His shoulders are so tense they’re practically up over his ears. If his voice cracks when he yells, you’re kind enough not to acknowledge it. “I didn’t think that much about it! I just thought of a beautiful woman and I described her.”

“So when you think of a beautiful woman in your head, you see me?”

He doesn’t answer.

You try to hide your giddy smile. “That’s sweet, Captain.”

He avoids eye contact so aggressively you swear it must be hurting him at this point. “It wasn’t–I–I didn’t notice. You don’t think it’s…creepy?”

“That you think I’m beautiful?”

“That I wrote porn about a woman who looks exactly like you.”

“Oh. When you put it like that I guess it doesn’t sound great.” He tenses again, so you rush to reassure him. “But no, I don’t think it’s creepy. It’s not like you meant to, or anything. Or that you wrote about me and like, another member of the crew or something. Why would I be mad that I just happen to be exactly your type?” Your heart is beating out of your chest as you try to portray a confidence you certainly don’t feel.

“Right. Yeah. I–There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He didn’t deny it.

“And it’s…great porn, honestly.”

Your delivery is so awkward the tension finally breaks as he laughs at you. “I appreciate that. I worked hard on it. But I’m not sure on some of the descriptions.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure it reads as true to life.”

“Does it need to?”

“No, not really, fantasies don’t have to be realistic. But…I can’t help but think about it anyway. What if part of it is so unrealistic it takes you out of it entirely, and I just didn’t notice? Or didn’t know because I’ve never tried that specific thing? Do you know what I mean?”

You do. You know insecurity in your work, the way it whispers in your ear. You know that words are not enough reassurance to silence those whispers. You want to help him, even if you don’t know how you could.

“What if we…tested it? To see if it’s realistic?” You can’t believe the words that just left your mouth. From the look on his face, Law can’t either.

“What?” A beautiful crimson streaks across his face and up to his ears, heat radiating off of him.

“Oh my god. Forget I said that, that was so inappropriate, I’ll just go–”

“No!” He’s so loud you both flinch, and he seems surprised by his own objection. His long fingers are wrapped around your wrist, and you can feel his calluses brush against your skin. God, what you wouldn’t give for those fingers to be somewhere else. “No, don’t–don’t leave. I think–I would–um. I’d like that.”

You blink. “You would?”

“Just to…test it. To make sure my writing is accurate. I’m a perfectionist.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.” His eyes flicker down to where he’s holding you, and to your surprise, he doesn’t release his grip. He tugs you closer, pressing your chests together, and you can feel his warm breath in his ear. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Law.”

“What?”

The deep rumble of his voice is commanding in a way that has you rubbing your thighs together. “I want to hear you say my name. Call me Law.”

“Yes, Law.”

You can feel his smirk as he whispers the next words in your ear. “Good girl.”

Heat rushes to your face, and you bite your lip to keep from making any deeply embarrassing noises. He chuckles as he pulls away, and you see no trace of his earlier apprehension or nerves. You suppose Law has always been a good liar, always putting up the front of the proud, confident, and unshakable Surgeon of Death. What is this but another part for him to play?

“How did it start again?” He places his hands on your hips, leading you away from the desk and toward the wall. “She and Sora meet up in the club, strike up a conversation–”

“Can we skip to the good part?” You hate how needy and breathless you sound. You’re already worked up from reading, from hearing him speak, from being so close, that you think if you spend another minute without some kind of release you might explode.

He chuckles. “I guess we can skip forward a bit.” He presses you against the wall, hand sliding to your thigh. You shiver, but he stops right before his fingers slide under your shorts. “But have you been good enough to earn it?”

You whine, a pathetic, wounded sound that comes from deep within you. For a moment, you see his facade slip as he swallows, trying not to give away how much the sound turned him on. But after a moment his mask settles back firmly in place, and you’re both ready to continue the game. “Please, Law. I’ve been good. I’ll be good.”

His smile is all teeth as his fingers find their place inside of you. First one, pumping slowly and deliberately, curling to hit your sweet spot just right. He moans quietly in your ear at the feeling of it. You know his line before he says it. “Do you feel that? The way you’re pulling me in? You need me bad, sweetheart, don’t you?”

He inserts a second finger right as you open your mouth to answer. “Ahh–Yes! I need you!”

He pumps harder, faster, and his other hand starts to wander towards your chest. His lips find your neck, nipping at the point where it meets your jaw, making you gasp again. His hand gently squeezes your breast through your shirt, and he can feel your hardened nipples through the fabric. He chuckles. “Yes, you do. Nobody else can make you feel as good as I can. You know it. That’s why you’re here, that’s why you’re so drawn to me. On some level you know: it’s just you and me. We’re all there is, all that matters. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Law! Yes!”

His free hand effortlessly removes your shirt, and you gasp as you’re exposed to the air, your back pressing into the cold wall. He removes your bra next, letting out a soft hiss of appreciation when he finally sees them fully exposed. “As beautiful as I imagined,” he whispers, seemingly to himself. You don’t remember that line.

His mouth finds your nipple easily, sucking and nipping as you threaten to come undone under his attention. His fingers are still moving, his thumb on your clit, building the tension in your body until you feel like you’re going to explode. You’re so very close to the edge, close enough that in your pleasure you forget the next part of the story for a moment.

Until his fingers leave you.

“No!” Your head slams back into the wall as you wail, tears welling up in your eyes. Law seems unaffected, pulling back from you as he slowly inserts his fingers into his mouth, savoring your taste. The only sign that you’ve shaken him is the clear strain of his cock under his jeans, desperate to be free.

His fingers leave his mouth with a pop, and he smiles at you, eyes half-lidded. “Did you think it was going to be that easy? That you would just get what you want, no questions asked?”

You whine, the sound filled with genuine despair. The room is silent for a moment as he stares at you, waiting for your next line, and you try to remember the part you’re supposed to play here. You just barely manage to grasp it, breathlessly saying, “I thought you were a better man than to leave a lady wanting.”

He slides off his tank top, revealing his beautiful tattoos to you. “Oh, honey, this isn’t about what you want. It’s about what you need. And how wonderful it’ll be, once you’re so on edge you can barely stand it, and I finally give in to you. Can you imagine it?” He pops the button of his pants next, sensually sliding them and his boxers down to expose his bare hips. “What it’ll feel like, when I’m finally inside of you?”

His cock is finally free, bobbing in the air as it leaks with precum. He looks painfully hard, and you swallow as you briefly imagine it in your mouth. You’d give almost anything to taste him right now, but that isn’t a part of the scene.

“You’ll feel so full, honey. Imagine how good it’ll feel to cum on my cock. Isn’t that worth the wait?”

“God, yes.”

“Good girl. So agreeable.” One hand finds your hips as he uses the other to line himself up. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, god, please.”

He slowly slides in, feeling the drag of every inch of his dick against your walls. He makes a strangled noise at the feeling, burying his face into your neck as he desperately tries to catch his breath. He stops once he’s fully sheathed in you, giving you both a moment to adjust.

And then another.

And another.

“Law?”

You can hear him chuckle against you. “What, darling?”

“Please, Law.”

He pretends to ponder whether or not to give in for a moment, keeping you in suspense, before he relents. He pulls away from your neck, revealing his extremely red face. His voice may be calm, but the rest of him cannot hide the effects you’re having. “What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words.”

You know the line you’re supposed to say next. She tells Sora she wants relief, wants him to move, wants anything that she can have. But you’re soft, and weak, filled with want. You cannot help but think of your dream this morning, what you were denied and what you’ve always wanted. So you speak the honest truth. “I want you to kiss me.”

He stares at you for a moment, eyes searching yours. You see your own want reflected in him, an affection that makes your chest ache. Then a smile blooms across his face, one gentler than you deserve. The line he says next is Sora’s, but what comes after is all Law. “Whatever the lady wants,” he murmurs, before his lips meet yours.

The kiss isn’t fireworks, or an all consuming flame, or any other way you’d ever heard such a thing described. It was tender, it was kind, and most importantly, it was Law. You’d never wanted anything else. It finally confirms to you that this isn’t a dream, that he’s really here, pressing you against this wall, a desire burning in him that only you can satiate. The lust is still here, the heat of your bodies intertwined, but there’s something tender and real beneath it.

Once you both pull back, panting, you look into his eyes and know the scene is well and truly over. Now it’s just you and Law, breaths mingling and hearts pounding. He smiles at you, a nervous, delicate thing, his confidence left behind with the script. He’s breathless as he whispers, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

You let out a soft, unsure laugh. “Is that Law talking, or Sora?”

He brushes his nose against yours. “It’s all me. It always has been.”

You can’t help your lovesick smile, dripping with a saccharine fondness you couldn’t hide if you tried. You meet his lips again, a kiss with a little more fire, a little more desperation. You try to convey everything you can’t say aloud: the years of yearning, the pain of thinking this moment would never come, the euphoria of learning you were wrong. Your hands press against his chest, his pulse fluttering under your fingers in unison with your own. You wrap your legs around his waist, desperate to pull him ever closer. He lets out a soft sound, almost a whimper, at the feeling of your lips against his as you clench around him. His tongue slips into your mouth, and once again the air around you grows ever hotter.

“Can I move?” There’s a whine to his voice. “Please.”

“Please do,” you moan, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chests together.

He needs no further instruction, thrusting harshly, hips rutting against yours. You can feel him struggle to hold himself back from pounding into you at a bruising pace. His hands grip your hips, his nails digging in as he clenches his teeth.

“You don’t have to hold back, Law. I’ll take anything you want to give me.”

He struggles to speak through his self control. “I want to enjoy this. I want to take my time.” Another deliberate thrust has you dragging your nails down his back, making him moan in your ear. “I want this to be as good as it can be for you.”

“This is–ahh!–already better than I’d ever dreamed, Law.”

One of his hands moves to your clit, his fingers starting a steady motion. “Not good enough,” he mutters. His lips find your neck, placing open mouthed kisses along its length, his teeth grazing your skin. You feel yourself coming close to cumming again, your voice growing louder, echoing through the room as you babble. You don’t even know what you’re begging for, the words please and more and Law are all you can say, all you can think. There is nothing in the world beyond the feeling of him against you, inside of you, his soft lips and callused hands.

You expect him to rip away your pleasure again, but when he briefly stills, your babbles turn to sobs anyway. He pulls back to look you in the eye, take in the sight of the tears running down your face, and you can see him soften once again. His hands and hips start moving again immediately as he presses soft kisses against your cheeks, clearing away your tears.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s alright. You’re doing great. I won’t take it from you again, I promise.” His voice is filled with pity. “You’ve been so good, you can take what you want now.” He builds you back up quickly, his hips pressing into yours even faster than before. You can feel yourself about to burst, and you slam your lips into his, moaning into his mouth. The dam finally bursts, and the pleasure nearly blinds you as you clench around him, his hips struggling to keep moving with how tightly your legs are wrapped around his waist. Your orgasm is what finally makes him break, filling you to the brim as his movements stutter.

You bask in the feeling for a moment, both panting and dripping with sweat, his cock rapidly softening inside of you. Your head lolls forward, pressing into his shoulder, and you press a kiss against his sticky skin.

“Was it worth the wait?” He tries to ask the question in a teasing tone, but you can hear the insecurity underneath it.

“It was worth everything and more.” You shift to wrap your arms tighter around him and nuzzle your face into his neck.

You can feel the rumble of his chest as he chuckles, gathering you up as he slips out of you. “Agreed.” He kisses the side of your head, an action so filled with care it nearly makes you burst into tears again. He tries to lower you onto something, making you pull him closer and whine. “I just need to set you down for a second, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”

“No.” You sound like a pouting child, making you cringe, but he laughs fondly anyway.

“Alright. A few more minutes. But I have to clean you up eventually, and then we need to find a place a bit more private to settle in, don’t you think? Or at least somewhere more comfortable.”

You hum quietly, pressing your nose further into him. You can worry about logistics in a few minutes. Right now you just want to bask in his warmth, in this dream turned reality, in the absolute joy of your feelings being reciprocated. “I really didn’t think you liked me,” you mutter sleepily. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

“I could say the same,” he murmurs into your hair.

You laugh. “Shachi and Peng are going to be so smug about this.”

“They are?”

“They’ve been trying to tell me for years, and they don’t get to tell me I told you so very often.”

“They were telling you too?” He laughs. “We could have done this months ago if we’d just believed them.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, your eyes starting to slip shut. “You’re worth the wait, though.”

You can hear the smile in his voice as his hand rubs soothing circles on your lower back, luring you further into sleep. “Yeah. So are you.”

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

#law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #one piece x reader #law x you #law x y/n #trafalgar law #one piece #one piece law #op #one piece smut

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smileysuh · 3 months ago

Text

deal maker

🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You grasp at the blanket on his bed, writhing beneath him while he licks and sucks and- fuck, he just knows you so well- there’s no need for direction, no awkward moments of exploration, he just… he knows what to do, and it drives you wild. You’re completely in the moment, experiencing a raw pleasure you’ve only ever read about in erotica.

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, breast worship, pussy eating, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, multiple sex positions, multiple reader orgasms, cumming together, dry humping, foreplay, slight corruption kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) sweetheart.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 8.7k

🍭 aus. uni/frat au, Halloween, supernatural/demon au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. Happy Halloween!

One: her

If it weren’t for the fact that you’re in the middle of a library, you might just scream. You know your workload increases with each year you’re in university, but there’s something sinister about the amount of book-related essays you have right before Halloween.

You’re doing your best to focus, and you’ve read the entirety of the ‘Frankenstein’ book that you’re supposed to be analyzing, but you just can’t find words.

A massive sigh escapes you, and your best friend, Hwasa, casts you a sideways glance. “You good, babes?” she asks.

“I just- I can’t do this,” you groan. “It’s a completely open ended prompt- I could write about anything I want to, and all things considered, five thousand words isn’t the longest essay ever- but, damn, I seriously can’t think right now.”

She nods sympathetically. “Do you really think you’re at rock bottom on this?”

“I don’t see how I could go any lower.”

“Okay, well,” she scoots her chair closer to you, her voice lowering, “i wouldn’t suggest this otherwise, but uh- have you ever thought about contacting the Sigma Veta Tau demon?”

“The what?” you stare at her blankly.

“Of course you wouldn’t know about him, you’re a goody goody,” Hwasa sighs. “Basically, there’s this guy in the SVT frat who makes deals and does your work for you.”

“What’s this have to do with being a demon?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s just a weird myth- basically, this guy helped me with an essay last year worth thirty percent of my grade. All he asked for was a family heirloom, and I think it’s his weird choice of price for favours that get him the whole ‘demon’ thing cuz he doesn’t usually ask for money like other dudes who write your papers would.”

“How did you do? On the essay?” you ask.

“Got an A. He doesn’t overdo it, he does enough to get you a good grade but not so good it’s obvious you didn’t do the work.”

“So… is he an actual demon, or?” You cock your head to the side, trying to understand the whole demon relevance.

“Nah, like I said, he’s just some hot nerd who wrote my essay. It wasn’t sketchy at all.”

“And he does this for a lot of people?”

“I’ve heard about a few. I know his friend Dokyeom was close to failing his Kinesiology course and somehow Wonwoo did his final exam for him and helped him pass.”

You let out a small laugh. You’re familiar with the Sigma Veta Tau frat, and DK is a well known figure there- getting someone to help him pass Kinesiology is very characteristic to the loud gym bro. “Wait, but, how did Wonwoo pull it off? They ID you at the final exams, don’t they?”

Hwasa shrugs. “I guess the dude pulls off miracles every once in a blue moon, maybe that’s part of his ‘demonic’ reputation.”

“Are we sure this a good idea?” you ask.

“Making a deal with the Devil?” Hwasa clarifies. “Of course, what could go wrong?”

You laugh at her choice of words.

This Wonwoo guy definitely isn’t the Devil… and even if he was, what would making a deal with him even really include?

You’re skeptical to say the least, but looking back at your worn out book, and your laptop document open with zero words- you begin to wonder if maybe this Wonwoo guy is a good way to solve your current predicament.

Two:

Wonwoo quite enjoys living on campus. He loves the onslaught to his senses every time he’s out and about, mingling with university kids who have way too much on their plate. No one ever notices him, no one ever notices the things that are slightly… off about him, they’re much too busy focusing on this week’s term paper, or this week’s quiz.

No, Wonwoo’s extremely happy being exactly where he is. He’s lounging in a coffee shop that connects to the book store, his eyes darting from person to person, assessing-

That’s when his gaze locks with someone familiar.

Hwasa had come to him last year, needing an essay completed. It had been one of Wonwoo’s easier tasks, as he’s read the source material upwards of twenty times in his long life. He’s seen her around campus a few times since then, but she’s never approached him, not the way she is now.

“Hi, Wonwoo!” Hwasa grins, demenour as bubbly as ever.

The frat boy simply nods, his gaze turning to assess you as you stand next to your friend.

“This is y/n,” Hwasa introduces you. “She’s actually struggling with an essay right now-”

“Hate to hear about an academic struggle,” Wonwoo interrupts, “especially while enjoying my coffee.” His eyes return to you again. “If you ever need a tutor, you should swing by the frat.”

“I would appreciate that,” you nod, a little breathless.

It’s clear there’s something off about you too- your heard rate is going faster than the average rate, and you’re finding it difficult to meet his gaze.

Ah, things click in Wonwoo’s head, this particular set of responses isn’t something he’s unfamiliar with. Many girls react this way to him, getting ‘flustered,’ as humans would say.

However, what is unfamiliar, is the way Wonwoo himself is reacting to it. He finds it cute, endearing in a way- as opposed to the annoyed feeling he usually gets when women are easily infatuated with him.

“Here,” Wonwoo breathes smoothly, picking up a pen from his notepad. “Give me your hand.”

Your gaze flickers to Hwasa for a moment, and then you’re reaching forward. Wonwoo grasps your wrist, enjoying the warmth of your skin and the way you jolt from his touch. He quickly writes his phone number down on your inner palm. “Give me a call about tutoring you sometime, we can discuss details then.”

“O-okay,” you nod, immediately taking your hand back when he’s finished, cradling it close to your chest.

“If that’s all you two have to say to me,” Wonwoo breathes, looking between you and Hwasa, “I’d love to get back to my coffee.”

Three:

“Hey, I’m at the frat, where are you?” you ask as you answer your best friend’s call. You feel so awkward just standing here, trying to look like you belong even though you’re sure you stand out in the all boys frat village.

“Babes, I’m so sorry- I’m at this study group and it’s going mega late, I didn’t even realize the time and I’m across campus-”

You let out a sigh. “Are you seriously going to make me do this alone?”

“You’ll be fine!” Hwasa assures you. “Wonwoo won’t bite, it’s the daylight after all.”

She giggles, and you roll your eyes. You’re still not sure how you feel about this whole ‘demon’ thing, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little afraid to enter a fratboy den of wolves alone.

“You’ve got this,” Hwasa says again. “If you need anything, just text me, and remember, I stalk your snapchat location so if anything happens-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sigh. “Okay, I can do this.”

“That’s the spirit!”

You hang up on Hwasa, taking a deep breath and turning to the front door. You approach cautiously, raising your hand and knocking three times.

It takes a couple of moments, but eventually, a man opens the door. You recougnize Jeonghan, he’s the frat president’s right hand man, a business major with a reputation for hitting on every girl he meets.

“Well, look who it is,” Jeonghan grins, leaning against the doorframe with his shoulder while he shovels some cereal into his mouth from the bowl in his hand.

He’s in an oversized white shirt and sweatpants, you’d bet he hasn’t been to classes today- and fuck it, he looks handsome, all the SVT men do.

“Sorry, hi, I’m here for Wonwoo, but I don’t think we’ve actually met,” you say awkwardly, holding out a hand.

Jeonghan’s gaze falls to your extended palm, and he chuckles. “Wonwoo gets all the cute girls,” he says, moving away from the door frame to let you inside, “but none of them ever stick around.”

“I’m here to study,” you try to explain.

“Sure you are,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. You follow him through the entryway living space, pausing as he heads back into the connected kitchen. “Wonwoo’s room is the third floor, first door on the left.” You stand there for a few moments, and Jeonghan cocks his head to the side. “You have no clue where the stairs are, do you?”

“Nope.”

“That door,” he points with his spoon. “Don’t get lost.”

He’s a bit of an odd one, and with a final thank you, you scurry away, following his directions past a door and up three flights of stairs. You pause outside the first room on the left, swallowing thickly before you knock.

“Come in!” Wonwoo’s voice calls out.

Before you can push the door open, it opens by itself, and you half expect Wonwoo to be standing there- only to find him seated on his bed with a book in his hands.

He’s in a black hoodie and matching sweatpants. His hood is up, but his dark curls are poking out, toying with the rims of glasses that set of the sharp angles of his face.

“What was your name again?” he asks.

“Uh-” you cough. “Y/N.” The door opening by itself had freaked you out, and you wonder how true the whole demon thing is- God, that’s been on your mind a lot.

“Come in, relax, and tell me what I can do for you,” he instructs, using his foot to push out a chair near his bed.

You swallow thickly again, closing the door behind you and approaching. You take a seat, letting out a breath. “So basically I have an essay on Frankenstein- have you read it?”

“Of course. Have you?” he counters.

“Yeah, I’ve read it, but uh… anyways, it’s due on Halloween, which is two weeks away, and I have so many other essays to write-”

“What’s the topic?”

“Open ended.”

“How many words?”

“Five thousand.”

“That doesn’t seem very hard,” he muses with a grin, slotting a marker between his pages so he can rest his book on his chest, getting a better look at you.

“Usually it wouldn’t be, but I’m just blanking- I don’t even know where to start.” You release a stressed breath. “So I brought a family heirloom.”

Wonwoo just looks at you, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.

“Hwasa said she paid you last time with her grandmothe’rs broach?” you try to explain.

“My price is different for everyone,” Wonwoo tells you, holding out a hand. “Let’s see what you brought.”

“It’s my aunt’s.” You give the necklace to him. “She got it to me to celebrate graduating highschool and getting into university.”

Wonwoo inspects the delicate silver chain, looking at the crescent moon charm with an opal in the middle. “It’s obviously valuable,” he says, handing it back to you, “but I can tell it’s not very sentimental.”

“So…” you fidget with the necklace in your palm, “what do you want?”

Wonwoo’s eyes begin to scan your form, and suddenly you feel very uncomfortable. It’s as if he’s undressing you in his mind, and it makes you fidget in your seat. His gaze lands on your chest, and you fight the urge to cover your tits-

He sits up, reaching forward- You hold your breath as his fingers brush by your collar bones, too close to the swell of your breasts for your liking- and then he’s lifting your necklace, leaning even closer to inspect it.

You can feel his breath on your skin, and he’s so close- God, why is something as simple as this so erotic? You’ve dealt with pretty boys before, but there’s something about a pretty, nerdy, dangerous boy-

“Where did you get this?” he asks, thumb smoothing across the golden heart attached to the chain on your neck.

It’s hard to find your voice, but after a moment, you’re able to respond. “It was uh- it was from my last boyfriend.”

“An ex?” His gaze lifts to you.

“Yeah.” You can feel your skin heating.

“And you didn’t get rid of it?”

“I figure I bought him a bunch of stuff while we were dating, pretty sure this was only fifty bucks or something, so I guess I thought I deserved to keep it.”

Wonwoo nods. You watch his gaze dip to your lips, just for a moment, and then he’s releasing your necklace and leaning back into his bed again. “That will work.”

“It will?” you ask in shock.

“Uh huh. There’s a certain sort of sentimentality to it. Also… even though you say you kept it because you deserved it, buying him so many things or whatever, I think it’s a shame that a pretty girl like you is still holding onto something from the past, instead of looking at your future. I’ll take it off your hands, and you can progress now, with more than just your essay.”

You wonder what sort of motive Wonwoo has, what significance a necklace from your ex actually has on a man who’s practically a stranger.

“Okay,” you murmur, reaching behind your throat to undo the clasp. “So… how does this work now?”

“A five thousand word open ended essay on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein…” Wonwoo takes his glasses off, wiping them with his hoodie. “I guess, you give me some time to think it through, I text you, and you come see me again.”

You watch the way he puts his spectacles back onto his face- it’s shocking how small, simple, mundane motions can be so beautiful when completed by a man like him.

“Okay,” you nod. “I guess… I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“You will,” he agrees. “Bye for now.”

He relaxes against his pillows, lifting his book and immediately turning his attention to it.

You stand up and leave without another word, your heart racing in your chest.

Once you’re outside the frat house, you call Hwasa.

“So how did it go?” she asks. “He didn’t kill you, so that’s good news!”

“He also didn’t want the family heirloom,” you sigh.

“So what did he want?”

“My necklace, you know, the one from my ex.”

“That’s weird, why would he want that?”

“Hell if I know,” you groan. “Hwasa… he’s not an actual demon, right?”

“Of course not!” she laughs.

You wish you were as certain as she is. There’s definitely something otherworldly about Jeon Wonwoo, and one of these days, you’re going to put your finger on exactly what is different about him from any other man you’ve ever met.

Four:

Wonwoo is standing by his window, examining the necklace in his hand. It’s such a simple little thing, but there’s so much energy tied to it. Wonwoo can see the dark aura- a tie to a past that it’s clear you’d rather forget.

Usually, Wonwoo collects items with soul ties. Family heirlooms are the easiest, as they’re connected to multiple people in different generations. When one of those people with a soul connection to the item dies, Wonwoo deams if they’re a worthy enough spirit to take as payment for his favours.

In Hwasa’s case, both of her grandparents had died recently. The grandmother had gone first, followed quickly by the grandfather, and it was the older male that Wonwoo had chosen to take for himself. His soul had been dark, a signifier of the evil in his heart when he’d been on earth.

For a demon, Wonwoo actually likes humans. He only accepts contracts that allow him to collect on bad souls, souls that he deems worthy of eternal damnation.

Many of his kind have asked him why he’d chosen a university to call home, and in simple terms, it’s because at heart, Wonwoo has an erudite flecked soul. He loves learning, more than he’s ever loved being a demon.

He got to a point in his life where he figured, if he was going to be around forever, he might as well learn everything.

Besides all that, university is easy, students come to him, he hardly had to do any work. Students are always anxious, always busy and in need of support to get work done. They hardly think of the heirloom they pawned off to a frat boy in return for an essay or a test- and since Wonwoo waits for natural deaths to collect the souls tied to the items, there’s no harm no fowl.

With all of this being said, Wonwoo’s not used to taking an item like yours. There are only two souls tied to it, your own, and your ex boyfriend’s… Wonwoo knows which one he’ll collect.

He’s not sure why he feels protective of you… there’s just something in your aura that calls to him, something he can’t explain.

He knows that this job will be different, in more ways than one, but something inside of Wonwoo is ready for the change, after all, it’s been a very long time coming.

Five:

“You’re back,” Jeonghan muses when he opens the door to the frat for you. “That’s a first.”

“Hi,” you say meekly, forcing a smile. You’re still not sure how you feel about any of this, and knowing that what Wonwoo’s doing with you is unusual doesn’t help ease your anxieties.

“He’s in the kitchen,” Jeonghan sighs, opening the door wider so you can pass. As you move by him, a hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “He’s never cooked for anyone, so, just keep that in mind.”

God, these men are so odd-

You find Wonwoo in the kitchen, his back to you. He’s in a black t-shirt and it stretches tight across his broad shoulders. His curls are a little messy, as if he’s been sleeping, and when he turns to you, you find he’s not wearing his glasses.

Why is he just as pretty without glasses as he is with glasses?

This feels unfair. This feels like- well, it shouldn’t be legal, for starters.

“Hey.” Wonwoo flashes you a smile and you just about melt. You can feel your skin heating, and you hate how your body betrays you, betrays the inner lustings that take over every time you look at this nerdy hot frat boy.

“Hi,” you respond, feeling like a complete idiot as you approach Wonwoo.

“You hungry?” He looks down at the pan in front of him. “I’ve been making steak and eggs.”

“Actually, I’m really just here about the essay,” you try to explain.

“Oh, right.” Wonwoo focuses on the sunny side up egg he’s making, “Give me one sec.”

You watch him finish up his meal. You’re not used to watching a man cook, and you're surprised at how skilled he is. There’s something very attractive about the way he shovels the egg out of the pan, adding it to his plate with the finished steak.

“Okay, let’s go.” Wonwoo leads you back up to his room. He takes a seat at his work table. “You can go on the bed,” he suggests, cutting open an egg. You watch the orange yolk drip, the way he scoops some up with steak.

He’s way too attractive.

“You sure you don’t want any?” he asks. “It’s perfectly medium rare.”

“A little too rare for me,” you admit, immediately realizing your mistake. “It looks amazing, sorry, I’m just not hungry.”

“Sounds good. So let's talk your essay.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve decided I’m not going to write it for you.”

“What?” It feels like the air is knocked out of your chest, and you stare at Wonwoo in confusion. “But uh… you took my necklace, and you wrote Hwasa’s essay-”

“It’s busy season.” Wonwoo waves his fork around absentmindedly. “The deal is, you come here, we work together, and when you need help, I’ll help. When you need a final edit, I’ll final edit.”

“Uh…” Your mind is spinning. “If you’re not going to help, I can really just do it myself.”

“I think we both know my help will be important,” Wonwoo points out. “Look, you’re a good girl. Don’t you want to feel like you did it yourself? When you came here the first time, I noticed you were hesitant, I don’t think this is something you’re used to doing.”

“I’m not,” you admit, shocked at his ability to read you.

“With a five thousand word count, this will only take two or three hard study sessions top, in fact, since I have my steak and eggs, we can start now.”

“I didn’t even bring my book-”

“I’ve got a copy right here.” Wonwoo spins his chair, reaching for his bookshelf. He pulls out a worn version of Frankenstein, handing it to you. “I’ve got notes in here, if you want to flip through it, I’m sure you’ll find something to inspire your essay.”

You take a deep breath.

Should you do this? Should you sit here and study with him? What was the point of giving him your necklace if he’s not going to write it for you?

“You’ll keep me on track?” you ask.

Wonwoo offers you a lopsided grin. “Uh huh.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Six:

It’s your second session with Wonwoo. You’ve been carrying his version of Frankenstein around like a bible- the notes, carefully hand written into the margins, are so insightful and inspiring. At this point, you’ve reread the whole book just to get a chance to understand Wonwoo’s musings on every page.

You feel alight with determination, and your thoughts feel focused- you’re as focused with Wonwoo as you’ve ever been, which feels odd given how distracting he is.

It’s intimate in a way, to be so close to him, doing your own work while sharing a space-

Your phone buzzes, breaking your concentration.

Wonwoo looks up at you, pausing his reading. “Who’s that, your boyfriend?”

You let out a small laugh. “Just Hwasa checking in on me to make sure I’m okay with our tutoring session, you’ve got a reputation you know.”

“Do I?” Wonwoo grins, resting his book on his abdomen.

“Uh huh, people say you’re a demon or something. Apparently coming here for help with school is a deal with the devil.”

Wonwoo laughs. “That’s definitely a theory. What do you think?”

“At the moment, I’m not quite sure,” you admit. “All I know is, you’re helping me with this essay, and that’s what matters.”

“You know how you can check if I’m a demon?” Wonwoo asks.

“How?”

“Come touch my head, see if there are any horns.”

Wonwoo is giving you a challenging look, and for some reason, you can’t resist.

You put your laptop to the side, sitting up. “Really?”

“Like I said, only one way to find out if I’m a demon.”

You move toward him, standing off the bed to approach where he’s seated at his desk. “Honestly… maybe this isn’t the best idea. I trust you, I don’t have to feel your head for horns.”

“I really wish you would though,” Wonwoo counters, and there’s a serious edge to his tone. His eyes are bright, looking up at you. It’s like you’re suspended in time and space, staring at each other, holding your breaths.

You reach toward his head, in the back of your mind, you’re worried he might bite you- but Wonwoo stays perfectly still. He watches your every movement, and soon, your fingers are smoothing through his curls.

Wonwoo holds back a groan at the feeling of your touch. He wants to lean in toward you, but doesn’t want to scare you off. It’s clear to him from your body language that you’re as hesitant about this as you had been when you’d first come to him for help with your essay.

You’re so soft, so pure, and he loves it.

He can hear your heart beginning to thunder in your chest as you smooth around his head, searching for horns.

God, humans are so gullible, but it’s adorable when it’s you being this way.

“Okay, no horns,” you confirm, tearing your hand back like you’ve just been burned.

You turn away, returning to his bed, and Wonwoo can practically feel the heat coming off of you.

“Get back to work,” he says softly, loving the way he gets to sneak looks at you while you’re deep in thought.

This arrangement is too perfect- Wonwoo hates that it will soon be coming to an end. You’ve been very productive, and as much as he’d like to take credit for it, it’s your own doing.

In some odd way, he’s proud of you, and it’s a feeling he’s never quite experienced before.

Seven:

You can’t believe it’s your final session with your ‘tutor’. The amount you’ve gotten done in two separate days with Wonwoo is ridiculous-

He’s your lucky charm, and it’s odd how much someone can come to mean to you in such a short time.

“Okay,” you sigh, finishing your last line of work. “I’m done.”

“Time for edits then,” Wonwoo responds, slotting a bookmark into what he’s reading before descarding the novel on his sidetable. He approaches you, sitting onto the bed. He’s so close that you can feel his shoulder against yours. He’s so warm, in the best of ways.

He’s reading over your shoulder, and you can feel his breath on your skin. God, this closeness is doing something to you- your pussy is actually beginning to throb, and it’s becoming uncomfortable.

“Here.” You hand your laptop over to him, watching anxiously as he begins to read your essay from the top.

You’re so focused on him- each second feels like an eternity as he makes his way through your writing, discussing small edits with you as he goes through it.

“This is good,” Wonwoo muses, making it all the way to the end. “You did really well, and with two days to spare. I’m proud of you.”

“Guess I don’t have to be stressed for Halloween,” you grin, releasing a deep breath.

“Speaking of, do you have any plans?”

“I haven’t even thought that far ahead,” you admit with a laugh.

“Well, if nothing else, we throw a great frat party, you’re more than welcome to come.”

“You know what?” You stretch your arms above your head, releasing a deep breath. “I might just stop by.”

Eight:

Wonwoo’s walking through campus when he senses something- and that something can only ever be you. He’s become accustomed to your aura, and his gaze immediately finds you, heading across the green with a friend by your side.

Your eyes meet, and Wonwoo flashes you a smile, not expecting anything to come of it.

He’s surprised when you approach, calling his name. “Wonwoo! Oh my gosh, hi!”

“Hey,” he grins, stopping in his tracks to give you a once over. He wishes he could be more subtle about his attraction to you, but by the way you take him in, it’s clear that it’s not something that’s one sided.

“Yeji, this is the tutor I was telling you about! He helped me finish my essay in three sessions.”

“It was really more like two,” Wonwoo corrects you, then his eyes find your friend. “She did all the work, believe me.”

“Yeah, after I read your notes on the book,” you grin. “He’s not even an English major, but he picks up more details in novels than I ever could.”

Wonwoo’s not used to compliments like this, especially not from pretty girls. Most just accept his work and figure their payment was a job well done enough. He doesn’t even know how to respond, and for a demon of his age, this sort of thing never happens.

You’re so pure and sweet- God, he likes you so much. But there’s something beneath the attraction, there’s a want- a want to corrupt you, a want to see how far you’ll go for him, how dirty you’ll be just for him.

“Are you two coming to the party tomorrow?” Wonwoo asks, finding a way to divert the attention away from himself.

You and Yeji exchange a look, and it’s your friend who nods. “We’ll be there.”

Nine:

You don’t go to frats often, but your attraction to Wonwoo drives you through the front doors of the packed house. Everyone is dressed accordingly, and you take a moment just to appreciate the ambiance. Sure, it’s sweaty, and overwhelming, and the flashing lights are a bit much, but it feels like a community, in some sort of odd way.

You’re heading through the crowd of bodies with Hwasa when someone grabs your arm, and you’re shocked to find Jeonghan standing there. He’s dressed as a zombie of some sort, and despite the fake grime on his face, he’s still very handsome.

“Hey, repeat offender,” he grins, leaning close so you can hear him over the loud music.

“Repeat offender?” you ask.

“Yeah, you’re Wonwoo’s chick now, our little repeat offender.” He’s charming, in an interesting sort of way. “Bet you’re looking for him.”

“Is he around?”

“He’s the dickhead in the oni mask, making a drink in the kitchen.”

“Thank you.”

You follow Jeonghan’s directions, approaching the kitchen. It’s as full of bodies as you’ve ever seen it, but despite that, finding Wonwoo is easy.

He’s tall, and even with his back to you, you’d recougnize his shoulders anywhere.

“So how are you doing this?” Hwasa asks.

“I’m just going to go talk to him.”

“Do you need backup?”

Your eyes shift to Wonwoo again, and you find a smile appearing on your face. “Honestly, I think I’ll be alright.”

“If you need anything, just scream ‘hamburger’.”

“Why?”

“It’s my safe word,” Hwasa teases, flashing you a wink before she disappears into the crowd of people dancing.

You take a deep breath, mustering your courage to approach the hot nerd.

You move toward him slowly, coming to a stop at his side. You don’t even have to say anything, he notices you immediately, turning to assess you.

His handsome face is covered with an oni mask, and it’s a little more frightening than you’d been anticipating, especially with his wild dark curls. Oni are Japanese demons, it has horns and fangs-

“Hi,” he says, and you can hardly hear him from under the mask.

“You’re really leaning into the whole demon thing, aren’t you?” you force a laugh.

You hear Wonwoo chuckle, and then he’s pulling the oni mask off. “Are you more comfortable now?”

Swallowing thickly, you nod. “Actually, I think I’d also be more comfortable with a drink.”

“How much have you had already?”

“Just had a bit of a pre with Hwasa, why?”

“I guess…” he faces you, crossing his large arms over his broad chest, “when I make a move on you tonight, since our arrangement is done, I want to make sure you reciprocate, sound of mind.”

You look up at him in shock, unable to find any words with which to respond.

Wonwoo grins when you remain dumbfounded for a few seconds. “You’re cute.”

“I am?”

“More than you realize.”

“And you’re… you’re going to make a move on me?”

“Was thinking about it.”

“What would the move look like?”

“Should I tell you? Or would you rather I show you?”

God, why is he so hot? Why does he always know what to say? And why does his smirk look extra sexy with his slightly pointed canines? Why haven’t you realized his teeth were pointy before? You suppose he doesn’t smile enough for you to have picked up on details, but now, you’re looking at him, unhindered by shyness and limits of a tutor/semi-student relationship.

Wonwoo pulls you closer by your hips, staring down at you. “I’m going to need a verbal answer, Sweetheart.”

“Show me,” you tell him.

Wonwoo’s grin widens, and one of his hands moves from your hip to your cheek, cupping your face. His thumb brushes by your cheekbone, and it’s such a loving motion- it’s as if the entire frat party disappears around you. You’re so focused on him that you can hardly breathe.

Wonwoo moves closer, and you an feel his breath on your face. His lips are incredibly close, so close you could kiss him yourself- but you stay frozen, waiting on him.

“Are you sure you want this?” Wonwoo asks teasingly.

“Kiss me,” you whisper.

He chuckles, and then, he presses his lips to your own, cradling you even closer with the hand on your cheek. His other palm finds the small of your back, tugging you to his chest. You find your grip going to his shoulders, exploring the muscles you’ve been thirsting over.

His tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you open wider to accept him in, a small groan slipping out of you.

God, he’s such a good kisser- you’re completely lost in him.

In the periphery, music is thrumming through you, but it’s muffled, disappearing as you fall deeper under the spell of Wonwoo’s kiss.

Things are getting hot and heavy fast, and you can’t even find it within yourself to be embarrassed that you’re making out with Wonwoo while surrounded by people, besides, something tells you they won’t care.

You can feel something on your lower abdomen, a pressure- and you realize that just kissing you has made Wonwoo hard in his jeans.

Your pussy throbs, so turned on that you can hardly breathe. You break the kiss, gasping. “Your room?”

“Not right now,” comes his immediate response.

“What?” You can’t help the way you feel crushed at the rejection-

“Not with the party,” Wonwoo clarifies. “I want to take my time with you, want you to be comfortable- having people fucking around outside my room while I’m exploring you isn’t my idea of a great first time.”

“That actually makes sense,” you concede.

“But… I’m okay to keep doing this,” he tells you, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, then his mouth begins to move down to your throat, his tongue tasting your sweet spot.

You release a moan, wrapping your arms around the tall nerd. “Yeah, we can keep doing this.”

Ten:

Wonwoo carefully walks to the kitchen, avoiding spilled liquor on the floor from the party the night before. He’s so focused on his footsteps that he almost doesn’t notice Jeonghan’s aura until he’s right next to him.

The frat boy is sitting on the kitchen counter, eating his cereal. “So…” Jeonghan muses with a grin, “that girl, huh?”

“What girl?” Wonwoo sighs.

Jeonghan scoffs loudly, rolling his eyes. “The one you were making out with at the party for hours. You know, the one that keeps coming here for ‘tutoring.’”

“I helped her with an essay.”

“Sure you did.” Jeonghan pushes off the kitchen counter. “It’s cute, our resident demon has a heart.”

Wonwoo freezes, realizing that Jeonghan might be onto something, but he’ll never admit it out loud. “No, I don’t.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Eleven:

“Well look who it is,” Jeonghan grins as he opens the door to the frat. You wonder why it’s always him, why no one else is ever hanging around the living room, but you decide it’s best not to dwell on it.

“Hi,” you smile softly.

“Guessing you know where to go,” Jeonghan muses, opening the door wider so you can enter.

With one more nod to the frat boy, you make your way to Wonwoo’s room.

You knock on the door, and like the very first time you’d been here, it swings open with ease. Wonwoo’s sitting on his bed, a book in his hands. He’s wearing his glasses, and he looks so sexy like this, so domestic-

“Happy November,” Wonwoo says.

You laugh. “Happy November.” You close the door behind yourself, standing there awkwardly. You know what you’re here for, know what you want from him now that your essay is complete- “You’re not practicing, you know, No Nut November, or anything, are you?”

Wonwoo laughs, setting his book down on his bedside table along with his glasses. “No, I’m not practicing No Nut November.”

“Good.”

Wonwoo’s grin widens. “Get over here.”

You make your way to the bed, sitting carefully next to him. “What were you reading?”

“Dante’s Inferno,” he responds casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to be reading poetry from the thirteen hundreds.

“Wow,” you laugh, “that definitely pushes the whole demon angle.”

“I’m a deal maker, Sweetheart, the whole demon thing is overdone.” He wraps his arm around you, prompting you to cuddle up to his chest.

“And yet, your door opens on its own,” you point out.

“And?”

“As crazy as this sounds…” you take a deep breath, “I guess I’m wondering if there’s any… legitimacy to the whole demon thing.”

“How would you feel if there was?” he counters.

“I suppose I wouldn’t believe it, not really.”

“Then what’s the point in asking?”

“Maybe there’s no point.” You look up at him, marveling at his handsome features.

“So kiss me and forget about it,” he prompts, his fingers finding the bottom of your chin and making you look up at him.

“Sounds like a plan,” you smile, closing the gap between your lips.

He holds you tighter as your lips mesh, half pulling you onto his chest as his tongue explores your own. God, he still feels so good- part of you had wondered if you’d been a little tipsy the last time you kissed him, and that’s why it had felt so good- but no, this is just Wonwoo, this is just the power he has over you.

You adjust so you’re straddling him, his hands finding your hips to encourage you while you cup his face, enjoying the feeling.

You begin to wiggle, grinding down softly onto him. His cock is already hardening in his sweatpants- you love how easy it is to turn him on. It does wonders for your ego as you dry hump him, beginning to moan at the sensation on your clit.

You’re not usually this type of person, not the mega-sexual, but something about Wonwoo is making you feral. It helps that you both know why you’re here- helps that he’d rescheduled this fuck session so you wouldn’t be having your first time with a wild Halloween rager just outside his door.

Things are just comfortable with him, it’s clear you’re both extremely attracted to each other, and that turns you on even more.

One of his hands begins to glide up from your waist, skimming the underwire of your bra. You move his palm even further up, so he’s grasping your breast, and he squeezes deliciously, earning a soft moan from your lips.

Wonwoo grins into your kiss, his free hand cupping the back of your neck, forcing you even closer as he massages your chest.

You grind harder onto his cock, loving the feeling-

One flip has Wonwoo on top of you, and you whimper at the change in power dynamics. He moves his hips fluidly, applying more pressure to your already throbbing clit-

Wonwoo pulls away from your throat, looking down at you with dark eyes. “So do I need to grab a condom, Sweetheart?”

“I’m on birth control,” you tell him. “Are you clean?”

“I’m clean, are you?”

“Yeah.” You lean closer, eagerly pressing your lips to his again. You’re so lost in him, nothing else matters.

Wonwoo’s hands begin to explore you again, and then he pulls away to tug on your shirt. “Off.”

You sit up, removing the fabric, exposing your bra to him.

Wonwoo looks down at you with lust filled eyes. “You’re so pretty, Sweetheart.” His fingers tease the strap of your bra. “How’d a pretty little thing like you ever find your way to me?”

“The essay-”

“You’re so innocent though, I could tell from the moment I met you. You wouldn’t have come to me if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

“No, I don’t cheat.”

“And you still don’t, you did the whole essay yourself.”

“With help from you,” you blush.

“No, Sweetheart, it was all you.” Wonwoo kisses you again, shutting up any argument you have about using his notes.

He makes you feel so good- it’s such a safe space, and it’s the type of situation you’re not used to. The lack of judgement, the complete support- it helps you relax, helps you get even further lost in his kiss as you make out, the both of you wriggling and grinding against each other. You love the feeling of his body, the feeling of being here with him, completely enraptured mind and soul.

Wonwoo’s lips trail down to your throat, and he begins to descend. He reaches your chest, and you breathe heavily, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of his lips.

His fingers hook in the cup of your bra, and he pauses to look up at you, as if he’s asking for your permission. “Do it,” you tell him, trying to catch your breath.

Wonwoo grins, pulling your bra down so he can access your tits fully. His tongue flicks at your sensitive nipple, and you groan at the sensation, arching your back to push your chest closer to his face.

Wonwoo’s lips suction around the sensitive bud next, and God, it feels amazing.

Your pussy is practically throbbing- can women cum from breast stimulus alone? You might find out if he keeps this up.

His hands cup your tits, pushing them together, and then he begins to lick at both of your nipples, switching from one to the other in a pace that has you grabbing his hair, whimpering in desperation.

You feel like you’re on fire- you feel alive, writhing on this hot nerd’s bed. It feels dirty, but it feels so right too.

He continues on your breasts for a short while, until you’re good and needy, then he makes his way to your jeans.

“I want you naked,” he tells you.

“Then get me naked,” you counter, still breathless.

With a wink, Wonwoo pulls your jeans down, and you work on your bra. Soon, you’re completely naked from him, and unlike other times you’ve gotten with men, you don’t feel an ounce of shame.

This feels so right, and as Wonwoo begins kissing up your thighs, prompting your legs open, you just know that sex is never going to be the same.

Wonwoo’s eyes meet yours as he takes a lick of your pussy, and you both groan. His lips suction around your clit and your muscles spasm. He pulls away with a grin, breath hot on your aching core. “So wet already,” he muses.

“I need you,” you whimper.

“You have me,” he promises, diving back into your heat.

He doesn’t hold anything back. He eats you like you’re the most delicious fruit in the world, like your pussy juices are a nectar he needs for life itself.

You grasp at the blanket on his bed, writhing beneath him while he licks and sucks and- fuck, he just knows you so well- there’s no need for direction, no awkward moments of exploration, he just… he knows what to do, and it drives you wild. You’re completely in the moment, experiencing a raw pleasure you’ve only ever read about in erotica.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and you’re a little shocked at the speed of all of this, however, you suppose the foreplay had done a number on you as well.

“Wonwoo-” you whimper, abdomen tensing.

“Cum for me,” he breathes heavily against your clit. “Want you to cum on my tongue.”

His lips wrap around your clit again, and two more harsh sucks are all it takes to send you over the edge. You gasp desperately, entire body tensing before the moment of your release.

Hot waves of pleasure erupt over your form, all consuming. You can hardly breathe, can only gasp in ecstasy as he works you through your high.

You’re not sure how long your orgasm lasts, only that you’re out of breath and brain dead by the time Wonwoo pulls away.

You can hardly open your eyes to look up at him as he stands up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes are so full of lust- and for the first time, he looks truly demonic. But you’re not scared, you’re intrigued, in the best possible way.

“Fuck me,” you tell him quietly.

Wonwoo grins, and his canines flash in the light. “You got it, Sweetheart.”

He grabs the back of his shirt, tearing it off his head to reveal chiseled chest muscles. He’s got more of a sleeper build- the kind of guy you wouldn’t expect to be muscled, except that under layers of fabric, he’s actually sculpted by the Gods.

You can hardly breathe as he pulls his sweatpants down, and you’re practically drooling by the time he gets back on top of you, his lips hot against your own.

You cup the back of his neck, kissing him desperately, wiggling your hips, eager for stimulation.

Wonwoo concedes, rutting so his cock drags through your drenched pussy lips.

Neither of you say anything, you keep lip locked as he finally pushes into you. You both release gasps of pleasure, breathing the kiss to press your foreheads together as he sheaths further inside of you.

You open your eyes, looking up at Wonwoo, who meets your gaze with a fierceness that sets your insides on fire.

He’s so beautiful- you’d checked his head for horns, but you can almost see an outline of demonic features- you must be dreaming, must be so lost in him that you’re seeing things. You close your eyes, drawing your lips to his again as he begins to fuck you.

Each thrust his hard, the tip of his long cock kissing your cervix. It’s a little uncomfortable at first, but the feeling becomes pleasurable much too quickly. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, clawing at his broad shoulders.

“You feel so good,” he tells you.

“No, your cock feels good,” you correct him.

“Agree,” he presses a kiss to your lips, “to disagree.”

You laugh, and Wonwoo groans at the way your giggle makes your muscles clench even tighter around his cock.

“Fuck,” he moans, taking a deep breath.

He pulls away suddenly, and he flips you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips to lift you into the air. He positions your knees together, so you’re in doggy, and then he pushes himself back into your aching hole.

Shit- things feel even tighter in this positon, and you claw at his bed, burying your face in his duvet as he plows into you. His grip is rough on your hips, but you don’t even care- if Wonwoo continues to give you cock like this, he could do anything he wanted to you, any position, and you wouldn’t mind.

Each snap of his hips sends the sound of skin on skin through his room, but that’s the least of your worries. You’re more concerned about the fact that you can feel another orgasm bubbling up in the pit of your stomach, and your pussy is clenching even tighter around him now.

“You’re close again, aren’t you, Sweetheart?” Wonwoo asks.

“Uh huh, so deep-” you whimper.

“Rub your clit for me,” he instructs. “Wanna feel it.”

You adjust, bringing your fingers to your sensitive bud. You begin to stoke yourself, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you crying out as he rails into you.

Wonwoo shifts, bringing one knee up so his foot is flat on the bed, giving himself better manueverabilty to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.

“That’s it,” he groans, squeezing your hips. “Make me cum.”

The knowledge that your high will set off his own makes you even more eager to please him, and you rub your clit even harder, whimpering desperately.

Wonwoo lets out a grunt, and the sound is music to your ears. How is he so sexy? When did a man grunting become sexy?

Fuck, you work yourself even harder, and Wonwoo matches your enthusiasm with his thrusts, his hands pulling your hips back to meet him with each motion.

“I’m close-” you tell him, your pussy gripping him so hard-

“Let go for me,” he responds. “Need to feel it.”

A few more circular motions on your clit has you exploding, a loud whimper escaping your lips as your pussy clamps down hard on his cock. Your entire body is alight, muscles working overtime as you contract around him.

“Fuck,” Wonwoo growls, his pace faltering as he cums inside you, filling you with a warmth that makes you spasm beneath him.

You continue to moan as he fucks you through your highs until you’re both breathless. You can feel him breathing on your back, can feel each puff-

Your own chest is heaving with effort, your eyes closed as the last inklings of euphoria sparkle through you.

Wonwoo’s hands smooth along your hips gently, and neither of you have anything to say as you recuperate.

Finally, Wonwoo gently traces your spine with a finger. “I’m going to pull out,” he tells you. “Grab you a tissue.”

“Okay.” You nod against his bed, still too blurry from your orgasm to think too hard about anything.

The loss of his cock from your aching hole is one you feel everywhere, and you whimper, cupping your pussy to stop any cum from dripping onto his bed.

Wonwoo returns quickly, moving your hand so he can press tissue to your core. “Give it a sec, and when you’re ready we can put on some clothes and head to the bathroom.”

You stay on your knees for a few more seconds before mustering your energy. When you’re finally able to stand, Wonwoo helps you up. He pulls sweatpants up your legs, followed by a hoodie to cover your bare chest.

Then, he takes your hand, guiding you to the bathroom where you both clean up.

Everything is a blur until you get back to his bedroom, where you collapse onto the mattress against his chest, eyes closed.

Wonwoo’s hand smooths up and down your arm. “How do you feel?”

“So good,” you respond.

“I’ve gotta tell you something.”

You can hear the seriousness in his tone, and you force your eyes open, looking up at him questioningly.

“I was going to wait-” Wonwoo admits, “it’s something I’ve never told anyone, not in so many words at least.” You wait for him to continue. “The whole demon thing… there’s some truth to it.”

“But… I checked for horns?” you say, confused.

“We don’t have horns, Sweetheart. We’re deal makers. You gave me your necklace, it has a soultie to your ex, one day, I’m going to drag that asshole to hell.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you. “Sure you are, Wonwoo.”

“You don’t believe me,” he muses, lifting your hand so he can kiss your knuckles gently.

“I told you I wouldn’t, so what does it even matter?”

“I just wanted to start things right,” he confesses. “Wanted to do this right.”

“This?” you counter, grinning up at him.

“Us. I want to give it a shot, if you’re interested.”

“I’m more than interested,” you admit. “But… I think, right now, I just need a little sleep.”

“Then sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, and with a smile and a deep breath, you finding yourself drifting into the most blissful sleep of your life. Demon or not, Wonwoo makes you feel protected, and that’s not something you’ll ever take lightly.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I love Wonwoo!

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!

🔮 preview. “You look so good like this, Sweetheart,” he whispers. “Being so good for me, so corruptible-” He has a bit of a corruption kink, but he’s never forced it on you. No, he’d shown you his toys, and allowed you to choose the pace on everything. You feel so comfortable with him, and it allows you to fully connect with yourself and your pleasure.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, use of sex toys, flogger, vibrator, multiple reader orgasms, breast worship, nipple clamps, slight corruption kink, dirty talk, praise, soft dom Wonwoo, fingering, slight pain kink, etc… I petnames. (hers) Sweetheart.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.2k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 starring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s been a few months of dating Wonwoo, and you’ve realized the whole demon thing is completely real. It was an adjustment at first, but he’d explained everything about it. There are certain demons who do the darker stuff, but Wonwoo truly considers himself a deal maker above all else. He doesn’t kill, even though, with his power, he could.

No, he’s a mellow demon, if there is such a thing.

It’s an opposites attract type of situation, and Wonwoo’s spent countless nights admiring your aura, discussing what it is exactly that makes you the light Yin to his dark Yang. He loves you for all of your differences, and you’ve never felt more comfortable with a person- or, should you say, demon.

He’s an ageless man with a thirst for knowledge, and you’re so attracted to his deep understanding of all things literate or scientific. You find yourself constantly learning new knowledge from him, and every day you spend together is a dream you never could have even wished for.

Aside from all the educational learning experiences you have with Wonwoo, you’ve also begun to explore his sexual knowledge, and it’s a journey you never thought you’d find yourself on.

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.2k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

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rose-petles · 3 months ago

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니키 - Empty classroom’s -> N.KI

Synopsis -> Sex, sex in school bathroom, Jelousy, over 18! Sex without protection, daddy kink, dirty talk.

Paring -> BadBoyBf!Niki x SoftieGfFem!Reader

Synopsis -> He’s jealous of another boy talking to his girl.

You were talking to one of your male classmates, Leehan, you guys were talking about the project that your science teacher set that was due in two weeks.

It was about doing some research and writing an essay. Lucky for you, you got a nerd to work with so it would be more easier.

As you were talking, you felt a tap on your shoulder as you turned you saw that it was your boyfriend, Niki. Niki was a bad-boy, well that what people call him as he’s either in trouble or causing fights with someone.

He glared at Leehan then at you, “Why are you talking to him..?” He asks the obvious jealousy shown on his face.

You looked him in the eyes, “We were just talking about a science project we have to do..” you said, trying to explain to him why you were talking and walking with leehan in the first place.

He took your hand and pulled you behind him. He then looked at leehan.. “I don’t want to see you ever talk to my girlfriend again.. you hear me..?”

Leehan pushed up his glasses, “Well then how are me and Y/n supposed to get the project done..?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care..” Niki said rolling his eyes and walking off, dragging you into an empty classroom.

You gulped, you knew how niki could get when he was being jealous.

He pinned you against the wall as he stared into your eyes, “You got anything to say about what happened back there..?” He asked, gritting his teeth.

You spoke up, “W-well I—” but before you could finish, Niki kissed you.

You hummed into the kiss, you felt as his tongue entered your mouth and started to explode it. Which made you whimper and go weak in the knees.

The kiss broke as you pulled back for air, gasping as you feel his lips kissing your neck.

He left wet kisses before stopping and giving you a Hickey on the right side on your neck. “Ah.. N-niki w-wait..!” You tired to stop him, but it was too late.

He already was gonna mark you, showing everyone that you’re his and only his.

You let out a whimper, your neck leaning back to give him more space. You had your eyes closed as you tried to concentrate on the pleasure he was giving you.

He groaned, moving his head from your neck to look down at you. As you guys locked eyes he moved his hands to your sides. “You mine and only mine.. got that sweetie?”

He gripped your waist causing you to whimper. He leaned back in and kissed you, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he moved one on his hands between your legs.

Causing you to let out a small moan, “Hmm you like that, huh?” He chuckled as he continued to rub up and down your wet folds through your underwear.

He continued to rub your cunt as he whispered dirty talk into your ears, “Hmm just getting all worked up over my fingers baby..”

You felt as his fingers started to pump in and out of your cunt, “Hmm my baby’s hole is tight.. no matter how much times I fuck you..huh..? I wonder if you really take me..”

“H-hmpf.. fuck.. niki..” you moaned as he chuckled as you state before pulling away his hand from inside you.

“Nuh huh, we’re not done yet..” he turned you around and held your hips, “I know you can take it..” You look behind you to see him unzipping his jeans and pulling out his huge girthy dick.

You gulped, well you’ve taken him funny before but he was always big. He then lifted your skirt and moved your panties to the side, he then rubbed his tip all over your folds to gather all your slick to use as lube.

You whined, “Impatient are we now?..” he stopped the teasing and he alined the tip of his cock to your hole.

“Hmm now gonna get what you want princess..” he mumbled as he slowly pushed inside you.

“A-ah fuck..” Your brows frowned as you had your mouth in an ‘o’ shape.

He started pounding into your tight little cunt as you whimpered about it ‘being too big’ and that ‘Its making you feel so full’.

He pulled up your top and let your tits hang out as her massaged them and praised them for how ‘they perfectly fitted his hands’ and that he ‘loved your perky pink breasts’.

He grunted, “hmm so you like that? Huh? You like my big fucking cock pounding deep into your tight little pussy eh?” He muttered as he continued to thrust into you.

“..yes..ahmm..”

“Yes.. who?” He took your arms and held them behind your back as he pounded into you.

“Ye.. yes.. daddy..” You whimpered as you felt yourself coming closer and closer to the edge.

“Haa.. fuck.. who’s pussy does this belong to?...” her groaned as he picked up his pace.

“All.. ah hunggg Yours..daddy haa all yours~” you couldn’t even think straight. All that could be heard was your moans and his grunts.

“I-im.. hmpff close d-.. daddy..” you whimpered as you started to clench around him.

“Hmm cum for me baby… I’m close too.. daddy’s close...” His thrusts came sloppy indicating that he was close to cuming as well as you are.

After a few more thrusts you felt his seed fill you up, “Oh shit i’m cumin, I’m cumin..” He grunted as he held you close.

“Oh.. niki.. i’n f-fxck..” You also came all over his cock, so as he pulled out of you. Your and his cum dripped out of your aching hole as you held onto the wall for support.

He pulled your underwear back then let down your skirt, he pulled back your shirt down and fixed you up. As if he didn’t just take you here in one of the empty classrooms.

He then tucked away his cock before zipping back up his trousers and putting back on his belt.

Niki then kissed your cheek before walking out and leaving you there in the empty classroom all by yourself.

Your legs shaking and now you fulled with his cum.

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fgumi · 17 days ago

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i need more loser!heeseung after reading that oh my gosh . yes yes yes yes. #needhim #needthat

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LO$ER = LO♡ER

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, headcanon, WC; 2.7k, WARNING(S); mildly suggestive (what’s heeseung supposed to do when you’re so hot?), A/N; your wish is my command. i absolutely love loser!heeseung. it's a need. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso @hollyoongs @hoonieyun }

loser!heeseung was excited. so excited. why you may ask? because you agreed to go to anime con with him. you even suggested that the two of you cosplay. you asked to go as lucy and david from cyberpunk edgerunners, something that fit the aesthetic you two had built. so, heeseung checked himself out in the mirror, fumbling with the yellow jacket you sewed for him and fixing the pieces of his hair that fell out.

“baby, i think we’re gonna be late if we don’t head out n—”

you came out in your outfit as you adjusted the belt resting on your hip. heeseung didn’t have any words. you looked… gosh, how could he describe you without being weird? you were beautiful, even on the days you didn’t feel it. but… right now? heeseung felt ashamed to say that he understood all those nasty guys thirsting over cosplayers. holy crap, he hit the lotto. you were a vision.

“hee? do i look weird? i wasn’t sure about the wig either,” you pouted as you touched the long white strand.

“no!” heeseung shouted, then cleared his throat. “you look really good.”

you smiled and walked up to him, checking out the two of you in the mirror. “you also look very handsome. we make a good lucy and david, huh?”

your eyes glanced at heeseung through the mirror and noticed he was still looking at you with his mouth agape. you turned to him and waved your hand in front of his face. “hee?”

as he kept staring at you, you shifted. you couldn’t help but blush under his gaze. heeseung gulped. how was he going to keep all those creepy guys away from you? he can’t even fight! he’d have to cover you up! but then he wouldn’t get to look at you in this… this outfit.

you softly planted a kiss on his cheek and that brought him out of his daze. his ears were bright red when he stepped away from you.

“i— uh. um. we— you—” he stuttered, unable to form a coherent thought.

a giggle escaped you at his lack of words. you did a little spin for him. man, heeseung couldn’t help his eyes drifting down at the cutouts on your hips and how short your—no! stop objectifying her. bad heeseung. that is your lovely girlfriend, who you love very much and who, for some odd reasons, loves you too.

“hee,” you interrupted, your lashes lowering—wow, you looked ready to eat him. “i thought we were gonna be late?”

you crept up to him, your hand ghosting over his arm. you pressed into him. “i mean, we don’t have to go. i just thought you wanted—”

you didn’t end up going, by the way. your couple’s cosplay never saw the light of day. instead, they were scattered on your bedroom floor.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how to feel when you asked to play d&d with him. while he said yes (because he’d never say no to you), he was admittedly nervous. what if you thought he was a big nerd and wanted to leave him? what if you hated how he dm’d (dungeon master)? well, it was too late now. you guys were on your way to jeongin’s apartment.

contray to heeseung’s overthinking, you were excited. you finally got to experience one of heeseung’s favorite pastimes. you didn’t really understand the whole thing, but you were open to it! you did some late-night research and built your own little character. she was an eladrin sage druid at level 6. heeseung made sure to let you know that you’d be thrown right into the middle of this campaign and that all the other characters were at level 6.

when you guys arrived at the door, jeongin threw it open and you were taken aback. he was in full costume, armor and all. apparently, jeongin was also taken aback. he didn’t think you were actually coming.

“oh! uh, welcome to my apartment, y/n!” he stepped aside to let you and heeseung in. inside, you saw unfamiliar faces who were also in costume. jeongin pulled heeseung aside and whispered. “i didn’t think you were serious when you said that y/n was coming! and where’s your costume?”

heeseung gave him an apologetic look. “dude, i’m sorry. you know i can’t say no to her. and i didn’t want to overwhelm her before we even left the apartment.”

jeongin sighed. “you better still dm the same with the voices and everything. and no preferential treatment!”

heeseung nodded and went to sit by you. you leaned into him and whispered. “i feel incredibly underdressed. did you know they were going to dress up?”

he rubbed the back of his neck. “we usually do for every session.”

you pouted and looked him up and down. “i would’ve tried dressing up too if i knew! where’s your costume?”

oh, how heeseung loved you. you didn’t even bat an eye that they were all losers that liked to play dress up on a weekly basis. you were just put out that you weren’t told.

“i didn’t wanna pressure you when it’s your first time,” heeseung said, patting your knee. usually, heeseung would kiss your pout away, but he was in a room full of friends who were very blatantly staring at you.

a throat cleared, drawing heeseung’s attention towards jeongin. in a (poor) scottish accent, jeongin said. “dungeon master, the fellowship awaits ye!”

heeseung nodded and pulled out his notes for the campaign. when you tried to peek, he immediately leaned away, keeping the notebook shut. “the people in the campaign can’t see this,” he said.

understanding, you stopped trying to look. you just pulled out your phone with your character sheet on it. jeongin paused in his seat. “oh, y/n, did you need to build your character first? we can wait for you,” jeongin said in his normal voice.

you shook your head and waved your phone. “i built one in d&d beyond! i came prepared, sort of?”

now, jeongin didn’t have much opinion on you other than that you were heeseung’s really hot girlfriend. but, after seeing how you tried to prepare, he could say that he liked you.

once everyone settled down, heeseung resumed the campaign. it amazed you how he was able to switch between all those voices, acting out the npcs of the quest. the way you were staring at him intently made heeseung unusually nervous.

whenever his eyes shifted over to you, his dialogue faltered for a sec before he continued. he interacted with the others of the campaign before coming to a point in the story where you could hop in. you put on a proper english accent, trying to sound as much like arwen from lord of the rings (you watched it countless times with heeseung). if no one else was in the room right now, heeseung would’ve died from your cuteness. a part of him was geeking out right now. his girlfriend, the love of his life, was playing d&d with him. what did he do in his past life to deserve this?

then came the fights. as he narrated, his friends rolled on their turns, fighting against the monsters that heeseung created. when it came to your turn, you looked a bit out of your depth. you were scrolling through moves in the d&d index to see which ones you could do. everyone was thankfully patient with you.

“i use a 3rd level spell slot and call upon lightning to strike the monster closest to jeongin?” you commanded unsurely.

heeseung leaned over, careful to not expose any notes. “baby, you’re gonna hit jeongin with that spell and you gotta reference his character, not him. that spell has a damage radius of 5 feet. the monster is only 3 feet away from him.”

you deflated as you scrolled through your list of spells. you turned your phone to heeseung, showing him the spell you wanted to use instead. “can i use flame arrows instead?”

heeseung could just die from how cute you were. he shook his head and scrolled through your list and clicked on wind wall. “you can use this one and surround the monster. it’ll take bludgeoning damage once the wall forms, regardless of his strength saving throw.”

you nodded and got back into character. you acted as if you were really putting a wind wall up and commanded more confidently. “i erect a wind wall around the monster and separate him from thralladin.”

heeseung got back to dm’ing and rolled his dice, falling short for a saving throw. he took note of the damage and continued everyone else’s turn. the night was fun! heeseung couldn’t believe how quickly you picked it up or how into it you were. at the end of the night, when everyone was leaving, jeongin pulled him aside again. “dude, y/n’s actually cool.”

pride swelled in heeseung’s chest. you managed to get the okay from his friend, not that it really affected how he felt for you. you two said your goodbyes to jeongin and walked home. you were filled with excitement for the next session. “what kind of clothes should i get for illanaria? i’m thinking white robes with some sheer drapes to add a bit of flair. i really need to study up on my spells so i don’t keep wasting time scrolling through the index. should i also get a notebook?”

just when heeseung didn’t think he could fall for you any harder, you proved him wrong.

loser!heeseung has met your parents, but in passing. however, today was a dinner meant to force—he means give a chance (don’t tell y/n he said that)—him to talk to your parents in length.

“don’t be nervous! my mom’s loved you since high school!”

ya, it’s not your mom he’s worried about. your dad on the other hand? what was he even going to talk about with him? football? heeseung could barely understand the sport. home improvement? he always needed your help to build ikea furniture. there wasn’t much he could do to gain some points with your dad. he just prayed that he wouldn’t hate him too much.

after 4 years (you recently celebrated your anniversary!) of being together, heeseung was finally going to talk to your dad. no more small talk while he waits for you to come down. he was actually going to have to make conversation with your father. if his phone didn’t tell him how cold it was, he’d think it was summer with how he was sweating.

the door swung open to reveal your mom, who looked as jovial and vibrant as ever. “kids! come in, come in. it’s freezing out there. that stupid global warming is really messing with the temperature.”

heeseung greeted her warmly, awkwardly accepting her bear hug while balancing the mac n’ cheese in his right hand. she pulled away and gasped. “you brought your famous mac n’ cheese! y/n’s been raving about this ever since she had it. i can’t wait to try it!”

when she rushed off to set it on the dinner table, your dad appeared with a dish towel thrown over his shoulder. he peered up at heeseung, since heeseung was slightly taller, and stared at him for a moment.

“so… you brought mac n’ cheese,” your dad said plainly.

heeseung laughed nervously. “i hope that’s okay?”

when your dad didn’t say anything for a second, you slapped his chest. “dad, stop intimidating him!”

your dad cracked a smile before ruffling your hair. “alright, sweetheart.” he clapped heeseung on the back and grinned. “i love mac n’ cheese! dinner’s almost ready, so make yourself feel at home!”

wow, he was a lot less intimidating than heeseung remembered. he thought back to all those moments in high school and wondered if your dad was just pretending to be stoic. your dad guided him to the dinner table before entering the kitchen again. as he moved around, your mom leaned forward. “so, heeseung, when are you going to ask my daughter to marry you?”

you choked on your water, water spraying out of the side of your mouth. heeseung quickly offered you a napkin and patted you on the back. you wiped your mouth and glared at your mom. “mom, that is not one of the preapproved questions. actually, i explicitly said you and dad can’t bring up anything about marriage.”

your mom tsked and pouted. “honey, you’ve been dating for so long. it’s a natural question.”

before you could protest, your dad brought over the rack of lamb, fresh from the oven. he placed it in the center and took off his gloves, kissing the top of your head afterwards. “your mother is just excited to have a son-in-law that can cook. you talk about him all the time. sue her for being curious.”

you talked about him with your parents? you glared up at your dad. “we haven’t even talked about that yet. i wonder why? oh ya, because we’re still in college!”

your dad raised his arms in surrender. “hey, i asked your mom to marry me when we were 16.”

“to which i said no,” your mom playfully jabbed. “we were far too young.”

“we’re also too young,” you grumbled, leaning into heeseung’s side. he wrapped his arms around your shoulder. he hoped your parents didn’t look at him too closely. his blush was probably covering his whole face. he didn’t realize your parents were also high school sweethearts.

“you also rejected dad until you were in college, anyway,” you added, clasping your hand with heeseung’s. ah, so not high school sweethearts.

when your dad settled beside your mom, she patted him on the chest. “he wasn’t always the hunk you see now.”

“okay, that was gross. can we eat now?” you groaned. your dad started making a plate and handed it to your mom. heeseung should also probably do this for you. he pulled away from you and started making your plate, avoiding the deviled eggs and piling on the mac n’ cheese. when he placed it down in front of you, your dad raised his eyebrow. “you still avoiding deviled eggs?”

you brought your plate closer to you, waiting to eat until heeseung had his plate. you stuck your tongue out at your dad. “i don’t when hee makes them.”

your dad looked at heeseung with a surprised look. “you made her eat deviled eggs?”

“i just added miso and switched the regular mayo out for the japanese one,” heeseung sheepishly laughed. “she seemed to enjoy them.”

a boisterous laugh escaped your dad as he leaned his head back. when he caught his breath, he gave heeseung an approving nod. “good on you, man.”

the rest of the dinner went smoothly, and heeseung felt himself relaxing. your dad wasn’t nearly as intimidating as he thought. they easily bonded over cooking and how the women in their life shouldn’t have to lift their pretty little fingers if they didn’t want to. heeseung felt relieved. your dad seemed to like him, especially after you telling him how much heeseung takes care of you.

by the end of it, your dad was inviting him back over—without you. “you should come over and we can workshop a course menu for the girls.”

heeseung grinned, promising to come back soon. you said your goodbyes and drove home. on the drive, you kissed your intertwined hands. “thanks for doing that.”

heeseung shook his head. “it’s no problem. i’m glad i got to talk to your parents.”

“nothing to worry about, right? they really like you,” you teased. “they even want you to marry me so they can trap you forever.”

heeseung hummed. he’d gladly be “trapped” by your parents if it meant calling you his wife. should he go ring shopping? he didn’t have money for that right now. maybe once he gets his return offer. he could at least scroll on through websites.

“good thing i already do wanna marry you.”

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too! you can now leave requests!

#enhypen #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #⍣ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚: writes #⍣ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚: headcanons #⍣ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚: 𝓪𝓷𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓼 #anon 〠

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