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artemisiasmuse · 1 month ago

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rafe cameron x sweet virgin!reader

she told you she celibate but she told me I can nail her shit

cw: mdni 18+, virgin!reader but has some other experience, lowkey a freak tho, toxic rafe, corruption kink : >, size kink, first times, rafe goes a lil crazy, sweetie pie reader x insane yandere bf rafe is lowkey my favorite trope

~ 6k words

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves <3 i didn’t read this over and i’m so sorry if there’s hella mistakes i will fix it later! this may or not be self-insert yes even that part

the trouble all began with sarah cameron and her big mouth. well really both of you were to blame, but you’d think she would be quieter when her older brother was lurking around. you were older than her by a few years, closer to his age than hers, not that it mattered though, rafe treated you like you were practically wheezie’s age. you didn’t let it sting you any more you had long gotten over trying to be seen as a woman in rafe cameron’s eyes. or maybe you just stopped watching him, he’s always noticed you but you felt out reach, until now. when he overhears his sister’s words he almost breaks the glass of water he’s holding.

��a virgin at 19 looking like you do is insane” sarah looked you up and down as you tried on the dress you’d bought together at the mall. you got shy at her words, you knew she wasn’t judging you but instead genuinely in disbelief that men weren’t throwing themselves at you. you had long mastered the art of looking unapproachable and uninterested after too many bad experiences.

“stoppp is it so hard to believe, you know how bad it’s been for me?” he really hopes no one sees him leaning against the wall next to his sister’s door, he’d look like such a weirdo. wheezie would never let him live this down, she’d barely held back on letting his little crush slip before. if sarah ever found out he’d be in another hell.

“fuck you’re right, if they can’t make you come what’s the point?” rafe winced at his sister’s words, willing away the temptation to gag. he was trying to focus on the fact that no guy had made you come before instead.

“you’re awful, but i’m done with men for a long time. im gonna focus on college and not waste time on them.” he relished in the twisted feeling that no one could touch you, even if the losers before had a chance they clearly couldn’t cut it.

“righttt being in a dorm filled with horny guys is gonna make that easier.” sarah deadpanned and you shoved her, seeing her point. you hadn’t thought about it like that.

“okay leave me alone i’ve been successful so far”

“oh my god speak of the devil, john b’s calling me over, can you cover for me? i’ll be back in like two hours max, promise.” you were a little disappointed she was leaving you but you knew how difficult it was for her to see him without someone covering for her. you nodded and pulled out your phone.

“fine but i’m ordering pizza,” rafe didn’t know if he should be terrified or elated that you two would be home alone for two hours. why did it have to be today that the rest of his family fucked off? was this divine intervention?

“save me a slice!” rafe could hear his sister rustling around, getting ready to go, so he did the same.

“you’re gonna be too busy eating di-“ rafe promptly ran off at that. he’d heard enough, his imagination would run wild with this new information.

it was half an hour later when, like clockwork, rafe made sure to be near the front door for the pizza delivery. he paid and tipped the guy, while you were making your way down at the sound of the doorbell. he hurries back upstairs, nearly running into you on the stairs. your eyes trace his pretty features and then land on the box in his hands, shock and horror cascading your face. rafe can’t believe that you look so good even now, you’re wearing a crop top with seemingly no bra underneath and high waisted sweatpants. to him you look like a model.

“hey! that’s my pizza” rafe laughs and continues up the stairs, you turn on your heel and follow him up. you’re kinda hangry and your pizza being held hostage is not helping your mood.

“i just paid for it so i don’t think so.” you both reach the top of the stairs but rafe isn’t stopping, he’s going to his room instead. this won’t do, he’ll lock the door and slam it in your face, you quickly move to stand in front of him blocking the path to his doorway. rafe thinks it’s cute that you think that would stop him, he feels a bit stir crazy over how small you look gazing up at him

“i’ll pay you back!” your hands shoot up against the doorframe, blocking entry even further. he wants to tease you a bit more but the idea of sharing a pizza in his room is way more tempting.

“nah it’s fine just let me have some.” you release your blockade and let him move past you, still with his-your pizza in his hold, following him mindlessly. if you were less hungry you would’ve realized eating pizza with your longtime crush and best friend’s brother in his room sitting on his bed was in fact not a great idea. but that fleeting concern is out the window when he opens the box and you climb onto his bed like it’s second nature. rafe does his best to stay concentrated on the present, it’s difficult when your shirt rides up and a sliver of your stomach is displayed, it looks so soft and untouched and he really isn’t hungry for pizza, he never was.

“i was gonna offer anyways for the record.” you say it while picking up a slice and rafe mirrors your action, laughing at your tone.

“yeah sure you were princess,” you ignore the way his voice sounds, the way he says your name, the way his room smells like him and it’s making your head spin.

rafe watches you eat transfixed when you lick the tips of your fingers, he can’t believe that he’s struggling to control himself over pizza but your words are ringing in his head.

“rafe do you have any napkins?” you hold up your greasy fingers and he nods his head dazedly, getting up to grab some for you and taking the pizza box off his bed with him. you move to get off then, looking around his room, you knew he wouldn’t appreciate if you snooped through his things so you just look at the pictures on the wall, the books he has. rafe finds you standing near his desk when he comes back, wordlessly handing you the napkins.

“i always forget you have a motorcycle.” your head motions towards the helmet resting on the surface of his desk.

“i don’t use it as much now.” he leaned back against the footboard of his bed, arms crossed against his chest as he watched you look at his stuff. he couldn’t figure out why you were still in his room, were you that curious?

“can i ride it? i’ve always wanted to try.” yeah rafe might just pass out now. you don’t even know what you’re doing to him, head cocked to the side looking at him so innocently he can barely hold back much longer.

“sure but i gotta teach you the basics so you don’t crash.” rafe is proud of himself for even stringing a sentence together in response. you notice a slight flush to his cheeks and ears.

“okay that’s fair.” you turn towards him, mirroring his form and leaning back against his desk. there’s a few feet between you but rafe thinks it would be so easy to lift you onto the mahogany and kiss you until you can’t breathe. his shorts feel so restrictive and he’s grateful he’s wearing black. he can’t hold back any longer, he has to know.

"is it true?" the words come out rushed, unsure of if they should even be said in the first place. but rafe’s not a quitter and he doesn’t shy away from anything really, even if the past few hours feel like a dream he would have in middle school.

"is what true?" your head does that thing again like a puppy and he nearly keels over, you’re too adorable for your own good. his gaze flits away for a second, he has to commit. your trusting expression and your airy tone make it all the more hard.

"no guy's made you come before?" you blink in shock twice before covering your face with your hands. this must be the most embarrassing moment of your life.

"ugh you heard that?"

"yeah you guys aren't exactly quiet" you might have to kill sarah cameron in her sleep, if she even comes back that is. you don’t know why you answer him, you could have just ran away but the magnetic pull of rafe cameron coaxes you to answer.

"yeah it's true" you sound defeated and rafe has to hold back a snicker, he watches you peer through your fingers at him, watching his expression.

"well i can rectify that..you know for the sake of mankind and all" there’s a smirk on his lips as he says the words that will haunt you forever. you’re sure he’s just messing with you and you huff a breath of disbelief. did he know about your little crush? you’d been hiding it so well for the past few years!

"don't tease me, rafe" you step away from his desk, moving to leave his room. even if it was just the two of you in the house you’d much rather sit in sarah’s room or watch the tv than be ridiculed.

"i'm not, it'd be a shame if a pretty girl like you gave up on men, especially for me." it’s almost as if someone dumped a bucket of cold water on your head when rafe cameron speaks. pretty girl the first time he’s called you anything that might suggest you’re not just his sister’s friend. the world spins on its axis and you try to grasp onto his words, try to understand that he might be genuine but you can’t. there’s still that voice of doubt telling you he’s just messing with you. rafe watches your expression go from shock to disappointment, you don’t believe him. he supposes it’s not that believable when he’s been purposefully avoiding you for a while. you must think he’s just messing with you, but he’s dead serious. he’ll just have to prove it.

“whatever rafe i don’t have time for your games.” you mumble it and leave his room, slamming the door a bit harder than you intended. the next few hours are torture. rafe cameron planted an insidious weed in your mind and it’s growing exponentially.

of course it’s not the first time you’ve imagined it, you’d often thought about what his long thick fingers would feel like. or how his biceps would feel under your hands if you held onto them for support. you’d fantasized about every part of him, even the tip of his nose. so the idea that it might just be within your reach had you spiraling. you took a cold shower, not that it helped, your underwear was still soaked after. no guy you’d been with had made you so wet, let alone before even touching you. it was as if the universe was testing you. a sick thrum in your body had found its way into your bones, vibrating with need and you paced in your best friend’s room thinking over all the consequences.

when you’d reached the conclusion that even if he was sincere it was still a bad idea, your phone pinged. a text from sarah that read: “i’m gonna be staying the night here, if you’re already asleep i’ll see you in the morning 🤍” with all your internal turmoil you hadn’t realized it was past the two hours she’d said. she would be out all night. you and rafe were home alone, all night. you swallowed down the lump in your throat, your heart pounding your chest. your feet were moving faster than your head, the pitter patter of your footsteps almost as fast as your heartbeat, and before you knew it you were in front of his door. you hesitated for a second breathing in deep once before knocking, the light was still on so you knew he was awake.

“yeah?” rafe did his best to hide the satisfaction he felt seeing you twitchy and shy in front of his door. you swallowed down again, looking up at him with as much confidence as you could. there was a few seconds of silence, he gave you the time you needed, looking down at you with bright inviting eyes.

“is your offer still on the table?” his face split into a grin, moving aside to let you in like you’d done before and with no hesitation you pushed past him. even the small graze of your shoulder against him set his skin ablaze. he was going to lose his mind.

“‘doesn’t really have an expiration date.” your mind was blanking at his every advance, you tried not to think about his words, you couldn’t afford to fall deeper for him.

“just don’t like tell anyone about this?” you murmured, watching him close the door behind you two and getting a bit nervous. if sarah found out you’d be in for hell. losing your virginity to your best friend’s brother wasn’t exactly a great conversation to have.

“i’m not topper don’t worry.” you believed him, rafe despite his other faults, was always respectful.

“can i kiss you?” you nodded fervently, rafe held back a laugh at your enthusiasm. he walked up to you slowly as if giving you the chance to run and slid his hands from his hips to the curve of your waist. you stood on your tiptoes, your arms going around his neck and rafe couldn’t believe this was real. maybe if he pretended it was a dream he wouldn’t be so nervous. he’d have to do just that. one of his hands cupped your face, thumb stroking along your cheekbone and your eyelashes fluttered closed at the touch. he pressed a tentative kiss to your lips.

his lips felt soft and you breathed out in relief after, as if some sort of spell was lifted. rafe kissed you again, this time letting himself breathe you in. you felt so small and delicate in his hold, he wanted to take his time with you. you had other ideas. kissing rafe cameron felt even better than you’d imagined, when he pulled back you surged forward this time, biting his lower lip making him groan into your mouth. another chill of desire wracked your body at the sound and you tested the waters by licking the seem of his lips. rafe pulled you even closer and bent down to kiss you deeper. his mouth opened and his tongue met yours. you tasted so good to him he couldn’t stop himself from sucking on your tongue slightly, making you whine in his hold. the sound flipped a switch in his mind, he wanted more of the sound, he needed to hear you say his name in that airy desperate sound again. a string of saliva connected your lips and snapped off in the middle, your breathing was heavy and his was too. you caught your breath all the while looking up at him, he held your gaze. the furrow of your brows grew deeper the longer you looked.

“we don’t have to do anything else.” him asking for consent again drew in another crushing wave of arousal, you were a lost cause. okay maybe your standards were in hell. even his cologne was better than any other guy, something woodsy and heavy, mature, not like the shitty ones you’d had to smell before.

“no-no i want to,” he’d have to ask you later why you looked so mad after kissing him, right now he had too much else to do. you could only watch as he lifted you by the grip on your waist, your legs going around his hips in fear of falling. he’d done it so casually you couldn’t process it in time. rafe set you down gently on his mattress, his weight pressed into you and your legs tightened around him. he kissed you again, already missing the taste of your lips, and leaned back. you realized what he was about to do as he sat back on his knees.

“no i-can you just come up here?” you felt far too shy for him to eat you out and although rafe respected your wishes he was a bit disappointed. he’d just have to make sure there was a next time. there were other ways to taste you anyways. he followed your lead, leaning back over you and kissing you again, tongue and teeth clashing together in need. one of his hands moved from your waist up and under the hem of your shirt, traveling up slowly until he reached the fat of your breast. the feeling of his fingers on your nipple jolted your body. usually you didn’t get anything out of a guy touching your boobs but him you were arching into his touch, huffing into his mouth. rafe loved how sensitive you were, reacting to every touch of his. he massaged the tit in his hand, reveling in how you squirmed underneath him. if you kept moving you’d feel how painfully hard he was in his shorts.

after giving up on kissing you he peeled off your crop top, trailing kisses down your neck. he bit at the skin and sucked, surely littering your neck with hickies. you smelled so sweet to him and he couldn’t get enough, biting hard in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. you squeaked at the feeling, shocked at how pleasure blurred the lines of the pain you should be feeling. being marked by rafe was transcendental.

“look at you, so fucking pretty.” you met his gaze, his eyes raking down your chest and back to your face. the compliment made your head even cloudier, you’d let him do anything he wanted already, and it didn’t even scare you. his mouth trailed lower, biting at the tops of your breasts before latching onto your nipple and sucking, biting and laving over the sensitive nub with his tongue. you writhed under him, desperate for some friction between your legs. you huffed out a breath in frustration. he took his time bruising your chest with his marks. everyone should know who you belonged to. he leaned back to admire his work, his eyes finally meeting yours and seeing your waterline filled with unshed tears. god he was being so cruel, you just wanted to come and here he was doing as he pleased.

“rafe can i have your fingers please?” he was about to take pity on you anyway but the desperate sound of you begging was too delicious to give up. he looped his fingers through yours, hands intertwined against the silk sheets next to your shoulder.

“fuuckkk when you ask like that how can i say no?” his eyes nearly rolled back in his head from your voice, he might just come from it alone. “how d’ya want them?” he knew, of course he knew, he just wanted to hear you say it. your lips were swollen from his kisses and you still managed to look so innocent under him, he wanted to mark every inch of your body so no one could touch you again.

“you know!” you huffed out, a pout on your lips that he kissed away, you still looked at him with frustration. your underwear was practically sticking to you now, you felt so warm and uncomfortable between your legs, desperate for friction. you’d never felt like this before, completely wrecked with need, unable to think about anything besides addressing your desire.

“spell it out for me, i can’t think clearly right now.” he kissed under your ear coaxing you into submission, a purr curled through you at the feeling. his lips were featherlight against you, soft and adoring and you couldn’t remember why you were holding back.

“‘wan you to fuck me with them.” it was a small mumble, slipping past your lips but rafe caught it nevertheless. his free hand hooked into your pants and pulled them down, you kicked them off and let him settle back between your legs. at least being out of your pants gave your legs some reprieve but the cool air only illuminated how drenched your underwear was. rafe’s large hand skimmed past your breasts to your stomach and rested against your waistband. he looked to you for admission and you nodded your head. instead of dipping underneath the band he trailed downwards, over the flimsy material. the ghost of his touch near your clit had you jerking under him, your hands flying to his shoulders. two large fingers pressed against the fabric, right above your opening, his fingers felt moist and he clicked his tongue at the feeling.

“baby you soaked through your panties, whose got you so worked up?” you whined, a pretty throaty sound that you’d been holding in and he vowed to pull more from you. his fingers were skimming along your opening, teasing the fabric and not quite touching you. your legs wanted to close on his hand but your hips moved closer, trying to make him touch you.

“you!” you screamed out, eyes squeezed shut as he removed his hand completely. you’d start leaking through them if he didn’t do something soon.

“that’s right me, not those fucking losers, just me.” his free hand, closed around your chin making you open your eyes and meet his. he looked crazed, pupils blown and overshadowing the blue with hooded eyes and a satisfied grin curling his lips. when you met his gaze he finally dipped his fingers beneath the band and pressed his thumb against your clit. he found it with such ease your eyes rolled back into your skull, gasping at the feeling of finally being touched. “i got you baby,” your legs spread wider for him, pulling him into you as his fingers slid through your drooling folds all the while his thumb ground against you. his fingers were so much larger than yours you could feel him everywhere. he prodded your hole with his index finger, grunting at how tight you were. streams of arousal kept pouring out of you, you needed him to do something. you squirmed under him again and rafe acquiesced, shoving his finger in. you were so tight and warm around him, slippery and soft walls hugged him as he stretched you out with one finger alone. “f-fucking tight,” he was gonna start soiling his shorts from the way you felt around his finger alone. he fucked you slow and deep, feeling along your insides for your sensitivity. he knew as soon as he found it because you screamed his name, hands clutching his arms tightly.

“feels weird,” he let you get used to the feeling, his thumb grinding against your clit. you were already feeling close and he’d barely started.

“poor pussy probably never felt this good huh?” you whimpered at his words, he was being so filthy and usually it turned you off. nothing about rafe could do that at this point. you shook your head, affirming his suspicions and his middle finger circled your opening. he was gentler this time, moving his fingers in inch by inch until you stopped clamping down. the pressure of him stretching you wasn’t unbearable but you didn’t know how you’d ever take more than his fingers at this rate. he accurately hammered against that spot, out for blood, while his thumb circled your clit. you were dripping onto his hand, coating him with your juices and the squelch of his fingers fucking into you filled the room. the sounds were so obscene you tried blocking them out with your pathetic little whines but rafe was determined to hear your soppy cunt crying for him. it wasn’t long before you felt the encroaching of your release and he knew it he could feel it in the way you clenched around him and whined when his fingers pulled out completely. one more carress of the sensitive gummy spot inside you had you seeing white. your vision blurred as you shook in your release, holding his wrist so he’d stop his motions, shivers wracked your body as you came the hardest you ever had. your walls fluttered around him, more of your release dripping down your cunt and soaking the sheets below. he was sick enough to leave them like that for the night, you smelled so sweet and he bet you tasted even better.

his fingers dipped out of your underwear and your eyes opened to watch him, probably a mistake on your part because just the vision of rafe cameron licking his fingers clean and groaning at the taste made you ready to go again. his eyes rolled back in his head at the taste, his eyes ground shut at the sugary flavor coating his tongue and teeth. he really hoped you’d let him have more later because now that he’d had a taste he wanted the full meal. you shivered at the way he reacted, your whole body on high alert from your orgasm, but even as sensitive as you were you couldn’t help but be greedy.

“rafe, can we go further?” his heart might just give out, you look nervous even now after he’s already addicted. he moves back slightly, pulling his shirt over his head and your eyes are drawn to his chest.

“thought you’d never ask.” you’re not even trying to hide how you ogle him, seeing him at the beach is one thing but in front of you, when you can touch him is another. rafe watches you reach a hand out, slightly out of range and moves closer to you, letting you touch him. your smalls hands traverse the expanse of his shoulders, his pecs, and trace the outline of his abs. when they reach the tuft of hair above his waistband, rafe has to stop you. the tiny fleeting touches make him twitch in his pants. he moves your hand to rest against his shoulder, pulling your underwear all the way off and looking down at how he completely drowns your body out.

“fuckkk can’t believe im the lucky one who gets to break this little pussy in,” he kisses along your neck, hands squeezing your waist and marveling at how diminutive you feel. he can’t wait to be inside you, he wonders if you’ll even be able to take him.

“s-so dirty” his words are heating up your entire body and you’d feel embarrassed if you weren’t arching into him. rafe moves to pull down his shorts, waiting a beat before he does.

“you sure you want this?” while taking your virginity was something he could only dream about before he needed to be sure.

“yes i want it to be you, i trust you.” you say it as normally as you can.

“we can stop whenever you want, like i said ‘offer’s not gonna expire.” you hope you can take it up even after this, maybe not even once or twice. if he could make you feel like this why would you need anyone else? then he pulls his shorts off and you start to regret your decision.

“oh-is th-that gonna fit?” his cock sprung out and slapped against his stomach, long and thick and way too big for you. you could barely take his fingers this would never fit. it looked so angry white precum dribbling down stark against the flushed pink curling along the veins and curving with him to the right. you wouldn’t survive this.

“you’ll do your best right?” you nod enthusiastically, you wanted to take as much as you could. “good girl.” oh, you’d have to explore that later. you nearly moaned at him calling you that. rafe caught it though, he knew your reactions well by now. he lined it up over your stomach, seeing how far it would go and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. your belly button was completely covered, not that it mattered he was halfway up your torso. rafe’s grip on your waist tightened, he’d ruin you for anyone else, stretch you out and mold you just for him. no one would feel as good as him and he nearly drooled at the sight.

despite how feral he felt, he made sure you were still wet enough for him to slip in, you were. his tip pressed against you, he let you drool onto him, juices swirling with his and making a sick plap plap plap sound as he tapped against you. he’s far wider than his fingers and you tried to relax. you motioned for him to come closer, his lips out of reach and you kissed him sweetly. when he could feel you relax he pushed in, instantly being shoved out. so tight he couldn’t even get the tip in. “fuuckkkk gonna have to marry you.” you don’t even process his words and he doesn’t really know he’s saying them out loud either. he tries again, pulling you slightly onto his length and you gasp at the stretch. you’re gripping him like a vice and it’s nearly uncomfortable but being inside you breaks something inside of him and he’s drooling into your mouth. you don’t even care you want more. “doin well angel-hah-taking me so well.”

the pain is an afterthought now, you want him to stretch you and fill you until you can’t breathe. you don’t know if you’ve wanted anything more in your life. so you do the unthinkable, you try moving down his length. rafe can’t be held responsible for his actions after that.

he gives into your silent plea, skewering you on his cock and pushing past your gooey rings of resistance until he’s halfway in. you held your breath the entire time as he curved into you, tip smearing precum along your walls as he molded you to him, his veins catching on your entrance and making you jolt at the feeling. you push at his chest, the pain making you scream his name as he lets you adjust. there’s tears trailing down your cheek that he licks away. he kisses you until the ache between your legs becomes distant, it’s salty and sloppy but it distracts you enough. rafe makes the mistake of looking down, sees the way you’re gaping for him and how it looks like he’s splitting you in half and he bottoms out. the snap of his hips against yours makes you moan, he’s filled you up now and you can feel him in your throat. you swear you feel him get bigger when you whine his name pathetically, his dick twitching inside you.

it’s too much and you try running from it, shoving up the length of the bed but rafe just pulls you back down. “t-too big hng can’t-“

“come on i thought you were-fuck-a big girl,” he groans into your ear, you shove against him once more and he slips out a few inches, just enough for you to relax. you can still feel him nestled against your cervix, he’s leaking into you and your thighs are coated in both of your arousal. you tap his shoulder for him to move again, pulling out until his tip is the only thing inside and then spearing all the way back in. the feeling makes you cross-eyed, his throbbing tip bumps along your sensitive spot until it nestles against you, as far high up as it can and you think you might be coming on every thrust because you’re so obscenely wet more slick just pours out of you every time. rafe knows it’s because there’s no space for anything but his cock and he can’t help but grin, watching your pussy engulf his length despite how small you are under him. every thrust sends your whole body upwards but his grip on you keeps you close, he’s almost fucking you back onto him.

“feels good hah,” you finally murmur into his neck, wrapping your legs around his hips so he can drill into you better. his thrusts are deep and slow, letting you get used to the feeling but you don’t think you like it like this. if he’s going to ruin you he might as well do it properly. “h-harder.” rafe moans your name at your request, his voice sounds so wrecked you clench down at the sound alone.

“turned this pussy into a slut, ‘couldn’t even take-hah-two fingers now look at you.” really he’s proud of you, proud that he made you like this. although he wants to tease you he can’t hold back much longer either and it’s your first time so he’s gonna be nice to you. rafe pulls out and slams back into you setting a faster rougher pace, your skin is slapping against each other and you think he might bruise your hips. your head is shoved up the length of his bed until it threatens to bump against the headboard, he puts his hand between you and the wood, his other hand holding onto the frame for support. your legs are being bent and pressed to the sides and the new angle makes him hit that spot with blaring accuracy. a sick ring of white forms at the base of his dick and his balls are slippery from your arousal. you still have a vice grip around him, something he won’t get used to but is definitely get addicted to. the room smells filthy and the sounds of you chanting his name combined with the squelch of your cunt is pornographic.

“gonna be a good girl and come around my cock?” your walls flutter at his words, like his permission has you ready to come. you come undone with one more thrust, your cunt is milking him as if coaxing him to come. “fuck fuck fuckkkk.” he pulls out just in time to come onto your stomach, shooting thick gooey ropes onto your soft skin. the white contrasts the blue and purple that is starting to bloom around your neck and tits.

you blearily watch it happen, disappointed he didn’t come inside, but warm and fuzzy from your release. there’s one thought nagging you though as you rest comfortably on his sticky soaked sheets. “it wasn’t a one time offer right?”

“no fucking way, i’m never letting you go.” rafe looks at you like you’re crazy, he’s ready to propose. there’s no way in hell he’s making this a one night stand. after all he’s broken you in, now it’s the fun part.

taglist: @ggraycelynn

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mssorceressupreme · 1 month ago

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Our Deal | F.W

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Pairing: Fred Weasley x hufflepuff!reader (works for any house really, except gryffindor for story purpose)

Summary: stuck in detention with Fred for a prank you never did, grants you the deal of a lifetime. Fred would help you get with your crush, Oliver Wood, and you get him with his, Gabriella Moon, in time for the Yule Ball. Though, as you spend more time teaching each other how to "flirt", complicated feelings start to arise.

Warnings/content: hufflepuff!reader, subtle enemies to lovers, mutual pining, jealous!fred, protective!fred, jealous!reader, mentions of alcohol, parties, quidditch injury, injured!reader, tension, flirting, kissing, teasing, Yule Ball

Wordcount: 6.8k (got carried away and kinda wrote a mini fic 😭🙏🏼)

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“This is entirely your fault,” you snapped, bending down to scrub at the sticky residue on the stone floor. “I had nothing to do with that prank.” The potions storage room air reeked with the scent of something foul, probably from whatever concoction had spilled from the shelves earlier today. All thanks to that stupid explosion caused by none other than the twin's prank just outside the room.

You gestured around at the remnants of the prank—green goo still dripping from the shelves, a set of abandoned dungbombs rolling near the base of Snape’s desk. Crossing your arms, you huffed as you glared at Fred, who was leaning against the wall with that insufferable smirk, clearly enjoying your misery.

Fred chuckled, tossing a sponge into the air and catching it lazily. “Yeah, yeah, tell that to Snape. You just happened to be there, hands covered in fluorescent goo, looking guilty as hell, which might I add, doesn't help with your case.”

“I was cleaning up the mess, Fred, not causing it” you gritted out, shoving the bucket closer to him. “Unlike you, who just stood there laughing while George ran for his life.”

Fred grinned, bending down to soak his sponge in water. “Ah, Georgie. Quick on his feet, that one. Maybe you should take notes for next time.”

Lucky for George, he managed to escape Snape's fury, leaving the stupendous detention task of reorganising and cleaning the entire potions storage room to the two of you.

“There won’t be a next time because I don’t do pranks,” you retorted. “Unlike some people.”

Fred gasped, pausing from squeezing the water out of his sponge, “No pranks? No mischief? Merlin, what a dull existence.”

You scowled, but your lips twitched. “Not all of us live for chaos.”

“You sure? Because you seem to enjoy my company a lot for someone who claims to be innocent,” he teased, turning his attention to scrubbing the fluorescent goop from the floor.

“Oh, shush If I weren’t such a good person, I’d leave this room right now and tell Snape about the other pranks you and George are planning.”

Fred turned to face you, holding back a doubtful laugh as he momentarily stopped scrubbing, “You wouldn't dare, Y/L/N.” his tone sprinkled with a hint of mockery.

You rolled your eyes, dipping your sponge back into the murky water. “Unfortunately you're right.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Because you secretly like me?”

“Because I’m not a snitch,” you corrected smugly. ____ An hour later, you were balancing on a stool, reaching for a jar of pickled salamander eyes while Fred stacked vials below. You glanced down at him, waiting for him to pass you more vials for the higher shelves.

A small played on his lips, Fred exhaled softly before handing you another vial, “Alright, since I do feel a tiny bit bad about dragging you into this, I’ll make it up to you.”

You raised your brow suspiciously. “How?”

Fred’s smirk returned. “The Yule Ball's coming up, right? I’ll help you get with whoever you want."

"In return, you promise not to rat me out about, oh, I don’t know, the prank in the Great Hall last week. Or the one from two days ago in McGonagall’s class. Or the—" He continued but you interjected swiftly.

Your eyes widened slightly, finally registering what he just offered. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” he said, placing another vial on one of the lower shelves. “You name the bloke, and I’ll be your personal matchmaking genius.”

"You're kidding." You pressed your lips together, skeptical.

"Am not." He affirmed, "Go on, the look on your face says you have someone in mind Y/N."

A slow grin spread across your face, but you hesitated. "No one in mind." You shrugged.

Fred folded his arms, eyeing you up and down before tilting his head to the side, "I'm sensing...someone....taller than you?" Yeah, no kidding.

Without thinking you retorted, "Yeah obviously he's taller than me." Your hands flew at the speed of light to cover your mouth while turning to face away from Fred.

You hoped to hide your flushness, but you ended up losing your balance on the stool in the process. "Merlin, don't tell me you're quite literally falling for him." Fred quickly held your waist, steadying you before you could meet the ground. You grabbed his shoulder for support before adjusting yourself and returning to your respective task of arranging the vials on the upper shelf. You hadn't planned on telling anyone about your secret crush on Oliver Wood, but here you were, letting these words slip aimlessly out of your mouth.

Fred took your silence as an answer, curiosity lingering in the air.

"Ah, so there is someone on your mind." He pressed, "And who’s the unfortunate sod you fancy?"

You paused, feeling the heat of his gaze from below, "Oliver Wood..." You mumbled all too softly; even the house elves, with their sharp hearing abilities, wouldn't be able to decipher what you said.

Exhaling, you got down from the stool, standing in front of Fred and avoiding eye contact at all costs. He took slow tentative steps toward you, bending down to your level so he could hear, "Come again?" You could feel his breath on your skin.

Your eyes found his, not registering how close he was, "Oliver Wood." Your face tainted a light shade of red.

Fred choked on air, a loud chortle escaped him, "Wood? The Gryffindor Captain, Mr. ‘Quidditch is My One True Love’?"

"Shut up," you mumbled, heat rising to your cheeks. You placed a hand on his chest and shoved him away playfully, "Don't tell anyone! I'll vanish off the face of this earth if you do."

Fred laughed, shaking his head. “Blimey, you’ve got high standards.”

“I barely know him, but he’s just—” You sighed wistfully. “He’s so kind and driven and—”

“Obsessed with Quidditch?” Fred interjected.

“Yes, but in a dedicated way,” you said dreamily.

Fred snorted. "Merlin, alright, fine. I’ll help you. But just know that if I have to listen to you swoon over Wood for the next month, you owe me more than just detention duty."

You beamed. “Deal.”

“Good. Because I might need your help, too.”

You tilted your head, furrowing your brows. “With what?”

Fred leaned forward conspiratorially. “Gabriella Moon.”

"Gabriella? As in, my Gabriella?"

"I didn’t realise you had ownership over her," Fred mused. "But yes, your Hufflepuff friend."

You nodded, grinning. "Oh for sure, I can definitely help with that. Piece of cake."

Gabriella was in your house, a sweet and kind Hufflepuff, and you got along with her well. Setting her up with Fred should be a simple, easy, task.

"Alright, Weasley. You’ve got yourself a deal."

Fred held out his hand, and you shook it—sealing a pact neither of you realised would completely change everything.

"Our deal." He affirmed.

____ The deal meant spending more time together. At first, it was simple things—giving each other tips, practicing flirting, and being seen together enough to spark curiosity.

One evening in the Great Hall, Fred joined you at the Hufflepuff table. Your friends sat with you, but you were so engrossed with Fred, that everyone seemed to disappear into the background, feeling as though it was only the two of you in the hall.

Fred leaned in with a smirk after placing a dinner roll on your plate, which he knew you enjoyed pairing with butter. "Alright, say I’m Oliver—how would you charm me?"

You exhaled dramatically. "Fine." You turned to him, putting on your best smile. "Hey, Oliver, fancy seeing you here. Do you always look this good after practice?"

Fred chortled, nearly choking on his pumpkin juice. "Merlin’s beard, that was atrocious."

You gasped, smacking his arm. "It was not!"

"It was!" Fred wheezed, clutching his chest. "Try again, but maybe without sounding like a lovesick poet."

You scowled but tried again. "Alright, then. How about this—‘I hear you’re the best Keeper Hogwarts has ever had. Think you could keep me?’"

Fred blinked, then groaned throwing his head back. "Oh, that was painful."

You shoved his shoulder, laughing. "I hate you."

"Sure you do," he teased, winking. "Now, do I get a turn?"

"Go on, then," you challenged, crossing your arms.

Fred turned, propped his elbow on the table, and smirked. "Hey, Gabriella," he began, "are you a Snitch? Because you’ve got me chasing after you."

You stared at him, face scrunching up in disgust. It was as though you had just witnessed a crime.

He wiggled his eyebrows before taking a mouthful of peas, chewing as he awaited your response.

You burst out laughing. "Oh, that’s horrible. No wonder you need my help."

Fred's mouth dropped, "Excuse you, that was a good chat up. Thank you very much."

You both laughed, completely unaware of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs watching the way you two bantered—how Fred’s eyes softened when you laughed, how you bit your lip when he grinned. You weren't super close to Fred, just casual friends, but you had to admit, these few recent days had you seeing him in a different light, he was more carefree around you, cheery, and you felt yourself coming out of your shell, all thanks to him.

You were confident in approaching Oliver now, and all the more excited for it.

____

"No, no! Merlin, Fred, you're going to scare the girl away if you look at her like that." The next few days were all about perfecting your tactics, anything to impress your targets, of course.

"Like what?" He sat beside you on the couch in the Gryffindor common room. It was a Saturday, and naturally, most students were either at Hogsmeade, outside, or sleeping in, leaving most of the space to the two of you.

"Again! Again..." You waved your hands, ushering him off the couch. "Pretend I'm Gabriella, and I'm sitting on a bench somewhere nice. You've just walked into the place, and you see her."

Fred straightened his shirt, retreating from the couch, before strolling over to you again, a devious smirk painted on his face, his hair slightly tousled and messy. He held his chin up high, and his arms swayed beside his lanky figure as he approached you.

"Y/N? Fancy seeing you here!" He beamed, pretending to act out the scenario.

"Wrong." You corrected, "Not Y/N, Gabriella." You flashed your brows, and he exhaled, walking away to take his place once again.

He strolled to you, once more, "Gabriella! Haven't seen you in a bit! What brings you here?"

You nodded, indicating he was doing a decent job so far, encouraging him to continue.

Fred plopped himself beside you, your knees were touching and he extended an arm around you.

"I"m good! This is my favourite place to unwind actually." You fake-mocked Gabriella, pretending to be her in this situation.

"Well, then I guess you'll be seeing me here more often, darling." Fred leaned in, you could feel his body heat against you, and you blinked before shaking your head.

"Darling? You barely know the girl!" You chuckled, and Fred's eyes glinted with awe as you threw your head back, he had not realised it, but your laughter ignited a warm honey like feeling in his chest.

"Fine, what about love? Baby? Babe?"

"No no, save those for when you're actually with her, but I suppose 'love' is a good place to start."

"Alright, love." He teased, and you playfully smacked him but an idea popped into your head, and immediately, you got into character.

"If you say so, Oliver." You pretended to act as if you would in this scenario with Wood.

Fred, still seated next to you, glanced down from your eyes to your lips.

You leaned in, tilting your head and gazing from his left eye, to his lips, then to his right eye. You smiled sweetly, blinking slowly as you gave Fred your full attention, staring at him with doe-like eyes, "So, Oliver, how was quidditch practice today?"

Fred gulped, eyes blinking rapidly as he coughed, "G-Good."

You smirked, lowering your voice, "I'm sure it would've been better if I was there with you." You bit your lip as you glanced at his lips.

"You should come to the next one." Fred responded softly, smiling as he leaned in, ever so slightly, one arm still wrapped around you, and you were fully within his proximity.

You could feel your breaths against each other; his scent crept its way to your nose, and you scrunched it. He smelt like fresh grass on a hot summer's day and clean laundry in the fresh breeze, something you'd never noticed before.

There was a moment of comfortable silence, but the portrait door clicked open, and some students returned from their trip to Hogsmeade.

"That was, uh, something I'd say if I was with Oliver." You quickly dismissed this, leaning back to a comfortable distance. Fred cleared his throat, and removed his arm, "Yeah, that was good. See, told you I was a good teacher."

You scoffed, "You? Please that one was all me."

"S'pose you are getting pretty good at this, annoyingly so, in fact." He hummed and you mouth dropped slightly,

"Is that a compliment?" You beamed, wiggling a happy dance in your seat.

"Don't get too cocky Y/L/N, I have yet to see you interact with him." Fred laughed, attempting to hide his awe for your little dance.

____

Days passed, and you found yourself spending an increasing amount of time at the Gryffindor table, supposedly to get closer to Oliver. But somehow, you always ended up next to Fred, bickering, laughing, sharing food.

People noticed—Hermione tried, and failed miserably to hide her excitement for you two, George outright smirked, Ginny started whispering to Harry, smiling at the thought of the two of you, Ron was amused at how Fred could pull someone as gorgeous as you.

Only you and Fred knew about your deal, to them, they saw this as a newfound friendship, alliance, even...romance? Hermione seems to think the latter describes your relationship perfectly.

You brushed it off, for you knew that you were only helping each other, and once the deal was over, you would go back to normal.

The topic of quidditch was no foreign topic at this table, Harry making remarks about how he'll confront Malfoy, Angelina and George talking about the Nimbus 2000, Oliver and Fred discussing a new game plan.

"Hey Y/N, why don't you come watch us at practice today after lunch, it'll be fun." Oliver invited you, and you blinked in surprise.

"I'd love to!" You chimed, "How could I pass on a chance to support the best quidditch team at Hogwarts?"

Oliver beamed, laughing softly at your enthusiasm, "Ooh careful now, don't want Hufflepuff's quidditch team to hear that now do ya?"

"Consider me an ally of both teams." You chuckled, and he grinned, smiling warmly at you.

"Surely you become an honourary Gryffindor for the day?" Oliver raised his brow, before taking a bite of his toast.

"Won't miss me too much when I switch back to Hufflepuff would you?" You teased.

"Then I'll just ask you to join Gryffindor again."

You were about to pour yourself some orange juice, but Oliver moved at the speed of light, "Here, let me." He poured a glass for you, then one for himself. "Fred? Some for you too?"

"Nah mate, I'm pretty full."

Fred silently watched the two of you interact; a part of him was happy and proud, seeing the way you effortlessly interacted with Oliver, but there was this foreign feeling inside him. Like a splinter poking him from the inside, if that were even possible.

His eyes darted from you, to Oliver, then back to you.

Each time you paid attention to Oliver, laughed at his quips, his charm, a small part of Fred wanted that attention from you, again.

He wanted you for himself.

Fred shook his head, dismissing all these thoughts, where were they even coming from? He knew one thing thought, he was being silly thinking about you like this.

However, Gabriella was starting to become a long-forgotten thought.

The only person consuming his mind lately, seemed to be…you.

Fred exhaled, taking a sip of his water, hoping to refresh his mind from whatever nonsense he thought about.

It didn’t matter anyway because after this deal was done, and you were happy with Oliver, that was it. You’d go your separate ways, well, mostly. That was, after all, the whole point of you becoming close with Fred.

"By the way, is it alright if I bring a friend?" You asked Oliver.

"The more the merrier!"

"I'll bring Gabriella." You whispered trying to contain your excitement, nudging Fred who was seated beside you.

He was quickly snapped out of his thoughts, "Oh, yeah, that'll be great."

____

Later that afternoon, you sat in the stands with Hermione, Gabriella, and Ginny, watching Gryffindor’s practice. Oliver was in his element—focused, determined, calling out plays.

Your eyes were glued to him, who looked impossibly handsome as he soared through the air, his hair ruffled by the wind. He turned, caught your gaze, and waved with that signature kind smile of his.

Your heart stuttered and a faint blush crept on your cheeks, moments like this only pulled you in deeper. Part of the reason you fell for him, was that one day you were lost and he helped you find your way to class. Being younger than him, he felt the duty to lookout for his juniors, he was patient, kind and made you feel right at home when you felt lost. His kindness was just so endearing.

"Go Oli!!" You cheered, and Oliver waved at you again.

"Nicknames already?" Hermione, seated next to you, smiled knowingly and you chuckled as a response.

"Fred looks really determined today, isn't that a good look on him?" You nudged Gabriella, hoping to steer her focus onto Fred.

"Yeah, he does look kinda cute." She agreed, grinning up at him. "Also, thanks for inviting me Y/N, this is really nice." Gabriella turned to you, smiling sweetly. She was a kind soul, much like you, always helping others and making sure everyone felt comfortable. Of course guys would fancy her.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Fred. His red hair caught the sunlight in a way that made it seem almost golden, his strong frame relaxed but still commanding attention as he sat on his broomstick, laughing with George.

There was something about him today—maybe the way his sleeves were rolled up, or the effortless confidence he carried. And for some reason, your found your heartpace steadily increasing as you continued observing him.

No. No, this was about Oliver. You shook the thought away and focused on the Gryffindor Captain instead.

Moments later, Angelina, Oliver, and Katie flew over, beaming. “Oi, you lot! Come play a friendly match with us!” Angelina called, gesturing eagerly.

You hesitated. “Oh, I don’t know... I’m not really—”

“Come on, it’s just for fun,” Oliver encouraged, flying closer. His eyes met yours, playful and inviting. You wanted to impress him. So, against better judgment, you stood and dusted off your robes. The four of you made your way down to the grassy field, and used some spare brooms.

Ginny, Hermione, and Gabriella exchanged amused glances but joined in as well.

You borrowed a broomstick—the nearest one, which happened to be Fred’s. "Can I?" You smirked, turning to Fred who took a quick break, reaching into his bag for his bottle.

"Yeah yeah, if you break it I'll crack your head." Fred teased, before chugging his water. With that, you kicked off the ground, feeling the rush of wind as you soared into the air.

The game was lighthearted, filled with teasing and playful competition. You and Oliver found yourselves in the same airspace often, exchanging witty remarks and laughter.

It felt effortless, easy. Below, Fred stood watching, arms crossed, watching in amusement as you 'bonded' with Oliver. Though you weren't sure if amusement, was the right word to use here, seeing how he kept tapping his foot.

“You’re getting the hang of this!” Oliver grinned, flying beside you.

“I’m just trying to keep up,” you joked, glancing at him.

So caught up in the moment, you didn’t notice the Bludger hurtling toward you until it slammed into your shoulder with brutal force.

Pain exploded through your arm, and your broom wobbled violently beneath you. You gasped as your grip faltered, and before you knew it, you were falling.

The ground rushed toward you, and you thudded harshly on the grassy patch. Ouch.

Oliver flew down hastily, but before he could reach you, Fred was already there, kneeling beside you, face pale.

“Are you daft?” he scolded, voice tight. “Didn’t you see that Bludger?”

You winced, trying to sit up. “It wasn’t that bad—”

“Not that bad? You fell from twenty feet up,” he snapped, his hands hovering over you like he didn’t know where to touch in case he hurt you further. “You’re going to the hospital wing.”

Oliver finally reached you, eyes filled with concern. “You alright?” He looked from you to Fred, who was still kneeling beside you, jaw clenched.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, but Fred wasn’t having it. Before you could protest, he scooped you up effortlessly, ignoring your weak protests.

“You’re being overdramatic,” you huffed, but your heart betrayed you, beating erratically against your ribs as Fred carried you toward the castle.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he shot back, striding forward without a second glance at Oliver, who remained standing on the pitch, watching with an expression that hinted he had figured something out.

He observed as Fred held you close, furrowing his eyebrows slightly, "Hm." He was so sure that you and Fred were just friends, but the way Fred acted today made Oliver doubtful.

The others stayed back to practice, you assured them that you were fine, and that there was no need to come. ___

Madam Pomfrey fussed over you, muttering about reckless students and dangerous sports as she poured a bitter healing potion down your throat. “You’re lucky it wasn’t a full-speed hit,” she chided, waving her wand to mend the bruising on your shoulder.

Fred stayed beside you the whole time, leaning against the infirmary bed with that signature mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “So, you were trying to impress Wood, huh?” he mused, arching a brow.

“Shut up,” you muttered, cheeks warming.

“Not my fault you nearly died doing it,” he teased, nudging you playfully. “Maybe I should give you some lessons on how to survive Quidditch.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe I should give you lessons on how to stop being so intolerable.”

Fred smirked. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You laughed, the earlier pain fading into the background as the two of you fell into easy conversation.

He stayed with you the rest of the day until you felt better enough to head back to your dorm.

____

The next day, the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match had the entire school buzzing with chatter. The game was brutal, with Slytherin coming in close, though Gryffindor still came out victorious.

The moment the Snitch was caught, the stands erupted into cheers, the players celebrating mid-air before descending to the field. You watched Fred among them, his face lit up with triumph. When his eyes met yours, something unspoken passed between you.

And you weren’t so sure anymore if Oliver Wood was the one making your heart race.

You, Hermione and Gabriella made your way down to the team, "You guys smashed it out there." You chimed, clapping for the them.

"Couldn't have done it without your support." Oliver walked over to you, hi-fiving your hand which you extended for him.

"You played amazingly, especially in the second half! Fred—the way you hit the bludger right before it touched the ground, just, wow!" Gabriella beamed, waving her hands around expressively.

"Hey, all in a day's work." Fred expressed, cockily brushing his hands together which earned a giggle from Gabriella.

"You know, you should come to the party tonight, hosted by yours truly." Fred shuffled closer to Gabriella, extended his arms as he gave himself credit for hosting the party.

"More of a team effort actually, he just talks too much." Lee quipped, "But yeah, you guys should come. Gryffindor common room, at 7."

"We'll be there." Gabriella replied for the two of you, twirling her hair as she smiled sweetly at Fred.

You were happy for her truly, especially Fred, who was grinning back at her, engaging in a new conversation about what'll transpire at the party tonight.

You were happy. Yes, you were.

But, does someone who is supposedly happy for their friend, feel a pit in their stomach every time they watch them with their respective crush?

____

"How do I look?" Gabriella asked, gesturing to her outfit, fitted flared blue jeans and a yellow peplum top, with a yellow bow to accessorise.

"You look stunning, Fred's going to love it!" You chimed, "Oh wait, here-" You helped straightened her bow from the behind, "Perfect."

"Look who's talking, Oliver's going to swoon over you when he sees you in that black dress!" Gabriella stood beside you, looking in the full body mirror, shaking with excitement for the party.

The two of you made your way over to the Gryffindor common room, met with a few ravenclaws and fellow hufflepuffs by the portrait entrance.

It was no surprise that the common room was alive with celebration and merriment. You and Gabriella stepped inside, immediately greeted by George and Lee, who enthusiastically showed you around.

"Welcome welcome! You guys look great!" Lee hyped you two up, always the enhusiast.

Laughter, chatter, and the warmth of victory filled the space. As your eyes scanned the room, they landed on Fred and Oliver by the fireplace, who spotted you and beckoned you both over with bright grins.

After a while of lively conversation in the group, you and Gabriella naturally parted ways—her heading away to the couch with Fred while Oliver guided you to where his friends stood.

You chatted and laughed, but something felt off. Your attention was divided, and no matter how much you tried to focus on Oliver and his friends, your eyes kept finding Fred’s.

Across the room, you noticed his eyes constantly meeting yours, just as much as yours longed to find his.

You were snapped out of your gaze when one of Oliver’s friends playfully nudged you, shoving a drink into your hands. “Come on, have some firewhiskey on me! You’ve got to celebrate properly!”

"Oh wow, where'd you manage to get that?" You asked, curious as to how he managed to sneak in alcohol. Granted, he was older than you so it was fair to assume he was more daring when it came to liquor.

"I have my sources." The guy wiggled his brows, "Come on, drink up Y/N, join us!"

You hesitated. “I’m good, really.”

“Oh, don’t be a buzzkill. Just one!” He pushed again, grinning as if it were a challenge.

“I said I don’t want to.” Your voice was firmer now, but he rolled his eyes.

Oliver sensed your discomfort and interjected swiftly, “Knock it off Felix. She doesn’t have to drink if she doesn’t want to.”

"Alright alright, you're just a wee girl after all innit." Felix chuckled, "More for me then."

Wee girl? Merlin, who does he think he is? You scoffed to yourself, shifting closer to Oliver.

Still, the group laughed it off, and you suddenly felt uncomfortable, wanting to be anywhere but here. You excused yourself quickly, heading upstairs to a quieter gryffindor study room.

The party noise faded, and you sank into one of the couches, taking a deep breath.

A knock came at the door, before it slowly opened.

Truthfully, a wave of relief washed over you when you saw Fred entering, his usual smugness replaced with something softer. “Saw Felix being a git, it's safe to say he won't ever bother you again.”

Fred's implication that he had a word with Felix made you all the more relieved, you exhaled softly, nodding.

You smiled weakly. “Thanks.”

He stood at the doorframe for a second, inspecting your state before slowly walking over. The couch dipped upon the weight of him as he sat beside you.

“You okay?” He nudged you with his body gently.

You nodded, looking forward though you felt his gaze on you. “Yeah. Just needed a minute.”

He listened intently, offering you the silence you much needed after the earlier commotion.

There was a pause before you turned to face him, “How’s it going with Gabriella?”

Fred shrugged. “Good,” he lied, then exhaled. “Alright, fine. She’s nice, but I think I bored her to death. She’s talking to Neville about some plants now.”

You chuckled. “Plants are fascinating.”

“To you, maybe. Not exactly my best topic,” Fred admitted. "Might buy a bouquet or two, but other than that I'm clueless."

"If you do, red roses are the way to go. She loves them, practically every girl does."

"Including you?"

"I adore them. Sounds a bit basic but they're a classic for a reason, they're just so...romantic." Your eyes glistened as you spoke about roses, dreaming of the day someone would buy you flowers.

"Noted, I'll pass a good word to Oliver." Fred chuckled, smiling at the way your eyes lit up, but his smiled disappeared when you frowned, a sigh escaping your lips.

“I think I’m losing it with Oliver. I feel like a total idiot for not drinking in front of him and his friends."

Fred shook his head. “Nah, you’re not an idiot....maybe a little, but not a full blown one." You slapped his arm playfully, but he continued, raising his hands in defence, "If anything, that makes you better than them. You don’t need to do anything to impress him, so what if you don't feel like drinking?”

"I don't think I'll face him again, if his friends hate me, he'll probably grow to dislike me." You groaned, burying your face in your hands.

"Nothing a little flirting can't solve," Fred was optimistic, attempting to cheer you up in this moment of despair, "Next time you see him, get more touchy. When you laugh, place a hand on his arm, lean on him, lean in to him...y'know, the usual."

"Ugh, in front of his friends?" You grumbled.

"All the better, shows you've got game." He continued to give you tips on how to approach Oliver again later, helping you plan your next move.

It was only fair of you to return the favour, leaning in slightly. “Right, so, lean in when you talk to her, like this,” you said, demonstrating the closeness.

Fred swallowed, blinking at you. “Like this?” He mimicked you, your shoulders were touching all the more, your face near his neck, his mouth a few inches away from your forehead.

You nodded, voice softer now. “And maybe say something like… ‘Your eyes are a remarkable shade of hazel, I never noticed how stunning they were until up close now. They sparkle beautifully in the moonlight, yet they manage to shine even brighter when you're caring.’”

It was meant for Gabriella. But as you spoke, something in your chest tightened. You were speaking to Fred. Really speaking to him. His hazel eyes met yours, and he leaned in once more.

His mouth parted slightly, as his eyes darted to your lips then back to your eyes. You found yourself leaning in too, your breathing became heavy.

Your heart felt like it was going to pounce out of your chest with the rate it was beating.

The air between you stilled as you both realised the weight of your words.

Before he could respond, the door creaked open. You and Fred jumped apart just as Oliver and Gabriella entered, looking at you both in confusion.

“There you are, we were wondering where you two had vanished off too.” Gabriella remarked, her eyes darting from Fred to you.

Your heart raced and Fred's face flushed a shade of red. Though completely innocent, if felt as though you were caught doing something you weren't supposed to be doing.

Flustered, you quickly went to Oliver, while Gabriella made her way to Fred.

The rest of the party carried on, fun and lively, but you couldn’t shake the strange feeling that lingered. No matter how much you tried to focus on Oliver, your gaze kept drifting back to Fred.

____

The anticipation leading up to the Yule Ball had everyone on edge. With the Yule Ball near approaching, the talk of the castle revolved around the ball; students asking each other to the dance, flowers being exchanged, and whispers filling the corridors.

You woke up that morning with only one name in your mind—Fred Weasley. It was irritating, really. You weren’t supposed to be thinking about him. You liked Oliver. You were going with Oliver. And yet, Fred’s stupid, mischievous grin had invaded your thoughts like an unrelenting charm.

At breakfast, you sat with Gabriella at your usual hufflepuff table, chatting about the Yule Ball. She was gushing about how beautiful everything was going to look, the magical snowflakes, the ice sculptures, the romantic lighting. You smiled along, but your mind was elsewhere. Across the hall, Fred was laughing with George, but every so often, you swore you caught him glancing at you.

After your 'Defence Against the Dark Arts' class, you walked out with Harry, Ron, and Hermione when Oliver approached. He was holding a bouquet of red roses, his confident smile making you a blushing mess.

"Y/N," he said warmly, holding out the flowers. "Would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?"

You paused, then beamed. "Of course, Oliver. I'd love to!" He pulled you in for a warm hug while students around you cheered, and whistled loudly.

You were happy—you really were. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? But as you took the roses, a strange heaviness settled in your chest.

Later that day, you found yourself with Fred, helping him prepare to ask Gabriella. You were ranting about Oliver, swooning over how charming he was. Fred, though smiling, was already fuming inside. He wanted to be happy for you. He wanted to believe this was all fine. But every word you spoke about Oliver grated on his nerves.

"Do you think Gabriella will like this?" Fred asked, holding up a box of assorted chocolates, changing the topic quickly after countless nods and 'that's great' as a response to you gushing over Oliver.

You turned to him, considering. "Yeah, she will, can't go wrong with chocolate. You got this, Freddie!"

"Right," he said, running a hand through his hair, looking more uncertain than usual. He was prolonging it, he knew it. He didn't want to ask her. He had someone else on his mind now. But what choice did he have? You were already going with Oliver.

When he finally did ask Gabriella in the courtyard, you cheered for him, clapping as she said yes. It was the right outcome—technically, you both won. And yet, watching Fred grin as he hugged Gabriella filled you with an unexpected wave of envy.

_____

The Yule Ball arrived in a flurry of excitement. You walked down the stairs with Oliver, arm in arm, dressed in your most elegant red gown. Across the entrance, you saw Fred with Gabriella. You both gave each other thumbs-up and smiled, though your smile never quite reached your eyes, nor did Fred's.

As you approached the entrance, Oliver and Gabriella walked in first, conversing with each other, leaving you and Fred standing alone for a moment.

Fred shoved his hands into his pockets before breaking the silence, "So…we both got what we wanted."

You exhaled, forcing a smile. "Yeah…we both got with our dates. All too smoothly, I might add."

You both chuckled, but there was an undeniable weight in the air.

"You look nice, cleaned up well for Oliver eh? Lucky bloke." Fred joked, though his voice was laced with subtle serious undertone.

"Hm, you don't look like a grindylow for once, I see you clean up pretty nicely too."

He chuckled softly, removing his hands from his pockets. Neither of you moved, it was as though a silent message of 'please stay here with me' was shared.

You hesitated before extending your hand. "Thank you, Fred. For everything."

He took your hand, shaking it lightly, but neither of you let go. There was a static, a spark, if you would, something both of you didn’t want to ignore. You both looked down at your touching hands, then back to each other.

Oblivious as to what the other party was thinking, the two of you decided to ignore it, let go, and move on, for the better, right?

"So, that's our deal done then?" you said slowly, though regretting it.

Fred swallowed hard, nodding. "Yeah. I'll, uh…see you around school then."

Your heart clenched, but for the sake of the ball, you put on your best grin. "I'll see you around, Fred."

You then turned to Oliver who was a few steps ahead, extending his arm to you. As you walked with him into the ballroom, you turned back one last time.

Fred was still standing there. You waved. He waved back, smiling—but his eyes told you that there was something masked beneath that smile. Gabriella came up to him, and they walked inside together, you turned forward to let them have their moment.

The ball was everything you imagined—beautiful, magical, enchanting. Oliver was the perfect gentleman, twirling you around the dance floor, kissing your hand, your cheek, your forehead, even. He got you punch, held the door open, pulled out your chair, he was the ideal guy, truly ticking off all your boxes.

You smiled at him, but your heart was never quite satisfied, there was a space yet to be filled.

And you hated that you knew why.

Your eyes kept drifting to him. He was dancing with Gabriella, but his mind was far away. Uncomfortable. Lost.

You chuckled to yourself, shaking off this silly feeling, turning your attention back to Oliver, who was explaining about his latest tactics for the upcoming Quidditch match with ravenclaw.

____

Later that night, Oliver walked you back to your common room. He leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to the back of your hand. "Goodnight, Y/N."

You lips curled up into a grateful smile, thanking him for the wonderful evening, but as he turned to leave, something inside you snapped.

If something was wrong, you needed to fix it. Merlin, what's the point in waiting? If something didn't feel right, your gut knew that you had to fix it right away. And this, was one of those moments.

You turned on your heel and ran in your red gown. Through the castle, past students, up and down staircases—you had no plan, no direction, just a need to find him.

Until you did.

At the main staircase, you froze. Fred was at the bottom, looking up at you. He was holding a bouquet of red roses.

Your throat tightened, immediately regretting your decision. "For Gabriella?"

Fred shook his head. "No." He stepped forward, "They're for you."

Your paused, holding your breath as he started walking up the stairs, to you.

"Y/N, I—" Fred hesitated, then exhaled sharply. "I don’t want Gabriella. I don't think I ever did, truthfully. I just…I wanted to be with you. And I was too much of a git to see it until it was too late."

Tears burned at your eyes. "Fred—"

"I don't care about the deal. I don't care about anything except you. I don't want to ever lose you Y/N. And if I have to watch you with Oliver one more time, I think I might actually go mental."

He was close now, the roses in one hand, the other reaching for you.

You let out a shaky laugh. "You're such a git, you know that?"

Fred grinned, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek and tucking it behind your ear. "Yeah. But I’m your silly git, if you'll have me."

You didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. You surged forward, crashing your lips to his, your hands gripping his suit. He dropped the flowers, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.

It was passionate, desperate, hungry, everything you had ever wanted but had been too blind to admit. The kiss of two people who were starving and desperately in need of each other. Fred savoured every bit of your mouth, as though tomorrow would never come, ending with a sweet peck.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, a grin sprawled across that deviously handsome face of his, his hair messy but Merlin, it was such a look on him. "So, I take it that’s a yes, love?"

You laughed, leaning your forehead against his. "Yes, you fool."

Fred cupped your face, thumb brushing over your cheek once again. "Best deal I’ve ever made."

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jjscrybaby · 2 months ago

Note

hiii :)

could you do a rafe x reader where the reader has a panic attack in front of sarah for the first and she knows to get the reader to rafe and he immediately calms her down?

rafe cameron x reader | hurt & comfort | (pogue!reader, mean girls, panic attack, crying, comforting!rafe, insecure!reader.)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

No one figured Rafe Cameron would go for a Pogue. For all his life he’d been the number 1 Pogue hater, the biggest Kook defender, and overall just a pretentious asshole. That’s why it was the shock of the island when you showed up on his arm to Midsummer’s, wearing a dress that costed more than your rent with an anxious smile on your face.

Your boyfriend had promised to stick by your side for the entire night, and you were sure he meant it when he said it, but he hadn’t taken into account just how enthused the elders were going to be to see him. He wasn’t that teenage boy they knew anymore, instead a man living alone and dealing with his troubles; thanks to you.

It was halfway through the night when you went to the bathroom, the few glasses of champagne had your head feeling fuzzy and your bladder full. You locked yourself in the cubicle and started to do your business, before you heard voices from outside.

“It’s strange though, right?” The door closed behind the girls that had walked in, making you flinch as you stood to sort your dress out.

“Rafe with a Pogue. Yeah, definitely weird,” a squeaky voiced girl agreed with a laugh.

“It won’t last, trust me. He’s only with her for the image, it makes him look good to do charity for a girl like that. I’m pretty sure she’s a waitress at the club,” the other one responded.

“I’ll be sure to find him later and remind him of that.” The two of them giggled to themselves, gushing over how hot your boyfriend was for a couple more minutes before leaving. You didn’t step out of the cubicle until you were sure that you were alone, hot tears running down your cheeks.

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was the fact those girls had said everything you’d been thinking for the last few months you’d been together, you weren’t sure, but something about their words had hurt your feelings; and had sent you into a spiral. You sat down on the plush purple chair, breaths coming out rapidly and shakily.

“Oh my god, what happened?” You hadn’t even heard the door open, but as you turned your head you found Sarah rushing at you. She knelt down next to you, holding your hands as you let out fearful whimpers. “Fuck. Okay, stay here, okay? Don’t move!” She ran back out and you stared at the door, holding your chest anxiously.

Only a minute later the door was swinging open and Rafe was storming in, striding over to you. “Hey, hey. Look at me,” he demanded, gentle but firmly as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. “Breathe for me, okay? Slow breaths, you got it.”

He’d seen you like this a few times, he’d learnt the best ways to get you to relax. He held your hand over his own chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath your palm. He gave you a reassuring smile as you copied his breathing, gripping onto his fingers.

“Good girl,” he drawled, pulling you from the chair into his lap where he sat on the floor. He stroked your hair, leaving gentle kisses over your cheek. “You want to tell me what happened?”

“It’s stupid,” you croaked out, still gripping onto his hand.

“No. It’s not. Tell me what happened, so I can sort it out and get the both of us out of the women’s bathroom,” he joked, making you giggle tearfully.

You gave him a wobbly smile. You didn’t have much of a choice now, it was time to admit to him the insecurities you’d had over the last few months; the ones that kept you up at night as he slept soundly beside you. “No one here thinks I’m good enough for you.”

“What?” His face scrunched up in confusion. “Baby, what’re you talking about?”

“I— I’m a Pogue,” you whispered, as if you were admitting a crime.

“I know that,” he shrugged. “I’m not that oblivious, sweetheart. Why does that matter? Why are you saying this now?”

“Because everyone thinks it Rafe! I’m sure you have before, I know I have! Everyone here thinks you’re an idiot for being with me, that you’ve lost your mind. Maybe they’re right,” you cried out.

His hands grabbed your face firmly, leaning his forehead against your’s as he held you in place. “You’re the love of my life.”

“What?” You murmured.

“You are the love of my life. I don’t give a fuck if you’re a Pogue, I don’t care that you eat pizza like you’ve not eaten in years, or that you swear like a pirate. You’re my girl, and I love you. I don’t care about other peoples opinions, because they’re irrelevant,” he explained slowly, caressing your cheek as he spoke. “Now, do you want to go home or do you want to get the biggest bottle of champagne and make fun of these losers?”

“The second one,” you whispered, staring at him like a lovesick puppy.

He smirked, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. “That’s my girl,” he mumbled, biting down on your bottom lip lightly to make you giggle. “Now, next time you get some dumb shit in your head you gonna tell me? Or do I have to spend all our loving conversations in the bathroom?”

You laughed, wiping your teary eyes as he helped you off his lap and back to your feet. He adjusted your flower crown with a cheesy grin, looking at you like you hung the moon and the stars. If you didn’t believe his words before, you definitely did now. “You don’t like the bathroom?”

“Well… it’s definitely nicer than the men’s, I’ll give you that.”

#rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x reader

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hanniebaeee · 2 months ago

Text

Tease me

Hyunlix x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: established relationship, fluff, smut

Summary: Hyunjin is on a work trip, leaving you and Felix alone at home. And when he video calls, Felix is an absolute menace, and it leads to some fun over the call.

Hyunjin had been gone for two days. Two. Long. Days. And you and Felix were starting to feel it - life was just not the same without his constant dramatics and flopping around.

And now Felix was stretched out on the couch with you, scrolling through his phone while you absently ran your fingers through his soft dark hair.

“I miss him,” you sighed, letting your other hand flop to the side dramatically.

“Same,” Felix mumbled, but he quickly looked up at you, grinning. “But his whines are still echoing in my ears.”

“You love his whining. Admit it.” You laughed, poking him in the cheek.

“I do, but I love making him whine even more.” Felix said, and just then, your phone buzzed on the coffee table.

Oh finally, there it was - Hyunjin’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hehe I was waiting for this,” Felix murmured, sitting up and pulling you closer to him.

“Behave,” you warned, picking up the phone, knowing the kind of drama that was about to unfold.

But Felix was already wrapping an arm around your shoulders, nuzzling his face into your neck like the needy little devil he was. The video call connected, and Hyunjin’s beautiful face filled the screen.

“Baby!” he whined, his voice immediately breaking into that soft, needy tone that made your heart clench. “I miss you both so much - what are you doing?”

“Hi, Jinnie,” you said warmly, smiling as he ran his hand over his short hair. “We miss you too.”

“Do you?” His eyes narrowed suddenly as he noticed Felix’s smug face next to yours. Felix, who was now draped over you like a human blanket, had the audacity to smirk at the camera.

“Hi, Hyunie,” Felix purred, his voice deep and playful. “We miss you sooo much. But, I’m taking good care of our baby while you’re gone.”

“Felix, I don't remember asking you to do that! Get off of her!” Hyunjin bit out, his cheeks turning pink.

“Oh, I don’t think she minds, do you, love?” Felix grinned wider, pressing a kiss to your temple just to rile him up more.

You snorted, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“You’re impossible,” you whispered to Felix, who winked at you.

“Yah! Don’t encourage him!” Hyunjin barked, his pout turning into a full-blown glare. “Felix, I swear to god, I’m coming home tomorrow, and I’m not leaving either of you alone for a second. You hear me?”

Felix leaned closer to the camera, filling the screen with his playful expression.

“Aww, you sound jealous, Hyunjinnie. Don’t worry, I’ll save some cuddles for you. Maybe.”

“You’re so annoying!” Hyunjin groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Then, his tone softened as he looked at you, his eyes literally begging. “Babyyy, tell him to stop hogging you.”

“I don’t know,” you teased, leaning back against Felix just a little more. “He’s being pretty sweet to me right now.”

Hyunjin let out a dramatic sigh, slumping against the headboard.

“This is torture. Absolute torture. I’m calling the airline to book an earlier flight.” he whined and Felix burst into laughter and he kissed your cheek obnoxiously loud for Hyunjin to hear.

“Fine. Enjoy your little Felix cuddle-fest while you can. Because when I get back, it’s my turn, and I’m not sharing.” Hyunjin glared at the two of you through the screen, but his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile.

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Felix quipped, smirking devilishly before his head dipped, and his lips landed on your neck.

“Felix, I’m going to murder you when I get home,” Hyunjin growled. “Baby, don’t let him do that to you. Tell him you’re mine!”

“Oh please,” Felix scoffed, pressing a slow, teasing kiss on the crook of your neck. “But right now, she’s all mine.”

“Don't do this to me!” Hyunjin said, his pitiful look going straight to your core.

“Jinnie, you’re so cute when you’re jealous.” you laughed, leaning into Felix’s chest as you tried to catch your breath.

“I’m not cute!” Hyunjin shot back, his cheeks bright red. “I’m serious! When I get home, I’m keeping you both in bed for a week. No, two weeks!”

Felix chuckled, his hands slipping down to your thighs as he pressed his face into your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses just to push Hyunjin a little more. “Sounds like someone’s desperate, huh, baby girl? Should we keep teasing him?”

“Felix, stop it!” Hyunjin groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I can't take it anymore!!”

“Good,” Felix said smugly, nipping at your earlobe. “Maybe next time, you’ll think twice about leaving us alone for so long.”

Hyunjin peeked through his fingers, his dark eyes burning with frustration and longing.

“You’re both evil. When I get home, you’re not going to know what hit you.” he said, and you smiled at him, your heart aching and racing all at once.

“So, how was your day?” You asked, hoping to change the topic of discussion, while Felix was all over you like a lazy cat.

“Was fine. The meeting went really well - Felix, I’m serious!” Hyunjin’s voice cracked as he pointed at the camera, his tone caught between desperation and a growl. “If you don’t stop, I swear -”

“Oh?” Felix cut him off, smirking, his finger slipping down your chest.

His voice dropped into a sultry, teasing purr as his lips grazed your skin and said, “Like this?”

“Felix!” Hyunjin barked, slapping the table next to him. “I'm catching the next flight home!”

“Good.” Felix smiled, his freckles crinkling as he kissed your shoulder, his lips deliberately lingering. “Come home and stop me, Hyunie. I dare you.”

Your cheeks were hot, your head resting on Felix’s chest as you tried to contain your laughter. Hyunjin, however, had completely lost it. He leaned in closer to the camera, his pupils blown wide with possessiveness and lust.

“Baby,” he said, his tone pleading as he locked eyes with you. “Why are you letting him do this?”

Felix tsked, shaking his head. “Because she likes it, obviously.”

“Lix! I’m going to -” Hyunjin’s voice caught as Felix’s hand slid up your thigh, and disappeared under the little nightdress you were wearing.

“Oh, keep going,” Felix drawled, his eyes flicking to the screen. “What are you going to do, Hyun? Talk me to death?”

Hyunjin’s breath hitched, his eyes fixed on Felix’s hand, which was definitely slipping into your panties now.

“I'm gonna kill you.” Hyunjin growled, feeling his own desire going straight down there.

Your gasped, heat rushing to your face as Felix only laughed, dark and deep. He was absolutely thriving on Hyunjin’s unhinged energy. And you gasped as his fingers slipped into your folds, dripping with arousal (no surprise there).

“Promises, promises,” Felix murmured, leaning down to kiss your jawline. “But for now, baby girl’s mine to play with. Isn’t that right, love?”

You let out a nervous laugh, caught between the intense tension between the boys.

“Hyunjin…” you started, but he cut you off, his voice low and commanding.

“Watch and learn.” Felix’s voice couldn't be any more smug, as his fingers rubbed small circles on your clit. “She's so wet, Hyunie.”

Hyunjin felt himself go harder by the second. He couldn't deny that this was one of the most delicious things he's ever witnessed - the two people he loved the most putting on a show for him.

“Are you just gonna keep touching her?” He whispered, and Felix's brows shot up before his eyes met you as if asking for permission. “You know what she likes-”

And you glanced between him and Hyunjin, who was now palming himself through his pants. You swallowed and gave Felix a little nod.

That's all it took for him to quickly pull your panties down and toss it aside. And with a grin thrown at Hyunjin, Felix was off the sofa, and on his knees on the floor in front of you.

He angled the camera perfectly for Hyunjin to be able to see what was happening. Seeing the look on Hyunjin’s face, Felix wasted no time. No build up.

He went straight to lick a long strip from your slit to your clit, and it had you shaking and shivering.

“Felix…” you whispered, your heart racing.

Hyunjin let out a low, guttural groan, his hand slipped into his pants and gripped at his length. He stroked himself as he watched Felix’s tongue glide through your folds lazily.

You could barely breathe as Felix closed his lips around your clit and sucked almost harshly. Your fingers slipped through his soft hair, pulling slightly as he continued to lick through your soft lips noisily. Your body quivered with the wave of pleasure coursing through you.

Hyunjin’s breathe came out raggedly as he watched Felix's tongue slipping into you, and the soft whimpers spilling out of your lips driving him insane.

“Felix,” you hissed, biting your lip to stifle a moan. “Baby I'm so close.”

“Good,” Felix whispered, his lips returning to your clit as he slipped two fingers into you. “You good Hyunie?”

“So close-” Hyunjin whispered, his eyes darkening.

“Let go for me, love,” Felix prompted, feeling your body tense. “Let go, Hyunnie.”

Hyunjin was unraveling before your eyes. Through the screen, you saw his pouty lips were parted, his breathing heavier now, his hand moving faster.

“Oh fuck,” He moaned, and your own orgasm came crashing down as Hyunjin came hard, spilling all over his stomach and hand. “Oh my God.”

You whined as Felix continued to lap up all your release, before sitting back and smiling at you like he's won the lottery.

“Oh my God, Lixie-” You mumbled, your head falling back. “I swear you two-”

Felix started to laugh and you couldn't help but join him. You both giggled so hard, Hyunjin had to join in. And it was absolutely a mess.

“Hyunjinnie,” you murmured softly, trying to breathe as your giggles subsided. “I miss you baby, come home already!”

“Taking the first flight back. I'm done here.” He said, grabbing some tissues to wipe his hands.

Felix chuckled, joining you on the couch again.

“You better sleep with one eye open, Lix. Gonna make you regret every single second of this. And baby girl?” Hyunjin said, before turning his gaze to you, his tone softening but no less intense. “I’m going to remind you what you really like.”

You giggled again and Felix grinned, clearly thrilled by Hyunjin’s reaction.

“Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “I’ll be waiting for you, Hyun. But until then…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, letting his actions speak louder than his words as his lips captured yours in a kiss so deep and searing. You could taste yourself on his lips, and it just made everything more hot.

“You’re the worst, Felix,” Hyunjin groaned, though he was smiling. “I hate how much I love you right now.”

Felix laughed, winking at Hyunjin.

“Mission accomplished.”

“Felix, baby,” Hyunjin said, lifting his head to glare at the two of you through the screen. “You’re both dead when I get home.”

And from the heat in his voice, you knew he wasn’t lying. And you couldn't wait.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun

#stray kids #skz #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #hyunjin smut #hyunjin fluff #lee felix x reader #lee felix x y/n #lee felix x you #lee felix smut #lee felix fluff #hyunlix fluff #hyunlix smut #hyunlix x reader #skz x reader #skz smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut

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this-is-tiny-mia · 12 days ago

Text

Sorry, wrong number (H.S. One Shot)

Summary: A wrong-number text leads to an unexpected connection between a you and a stranger. What starts as a playful exchange quickly becomes the highlight of their days, leaving you curious about the man behind the messages. A/n: I don't really know what i'm doing here, i just got inspired and i was bored, i'm clearly not a professional fanfic writer, but i hope at least someone enjoys it. (ALSO ENGLISH IT'S NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE SO BARE WITH ME WITH GRAMMAR AND STUFF) Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: Not really, use of y/n, maybe slow burn, cliff hanger cause i don't know if it's good enough to continue it.

Friday, January 10th

"Hi! This is Y/N. I already sent the files you asked for last Friday, but I didn’t get any reply. Could you please confirm you received them? Have a nice day!"

…

Tuesday, January 14th

"Hi! This is Y/N again. I know you might be busy, but I just wanted to confirm if the files were okay. We also still have the last payment pending, so whenever you can, it’s fine! Have a nice day!"

Maybe it was too soon to think the client had run off with the files and didn’t want to pay, or maybe he was in trouble? Maybe he got mad that I texted his personal phone number? Anyway, it wasn’t unusual for clients to disappear, but this time, you were really looking forward to that last payment.

Your mom’s birthday was coming up, and you wanted to buy something nice for her for the first time—maybe even outdo your sister and prove you could buy her something special too. You were eager about it but tried to brush it off and focus on other clients who actually responded to emails and texts.

Then, your phone buzzed.

"Hey, I wasn’t going to answer these texts, but I’m pretty sure someone gave you the wrong number. I’m not waiting for files—sorry!"

"That explains a lot," you said to yourself, staring at your phone. Embarrassment crept in as you double-checked the number the client had sent in an earlier email. And there it was—one single digit off from the number you’d been texting. Still, why wasn’t the client answering their email?

Regardless, you had texted the wrong number and even asked for the final payment.

"Oh my god, I’m really, really sorry! I just double-checked, and yes, I made a mistake with the number. Again, I’m so sorry to bother you."

"It’s fine! Hope you find the real client and get your payment."

You facepalmed in your office and chuckled at yourself. It was embarrassing to think about the stranger receiving your out-of-context texts. Maybe they were busy too, and you’d just interrupted their day. Or maybe you were overthinking it.

After searching for that email again, you dialed the correct number carefully, double-checking each digit. Then you sent another message:

"Hi! This is Y/N. I already sent the files last week, but I didn’t get any reply. Could you please confirm you received them? Have a nice day!"

Minutes later, the client responded. He apologized for falling behind on things, said he’d been busy, but confirmed he had received the files and planned to make the payment the next day.

Thank God.

You were always busy—navigating the challenges of freelancing and the whole "being your own boss" thing. Sometimes it meant being not just the social media marketer but also the accountant, admin team, planner, and much more.

"Everything alright?" Gwen asked, chuckling as she glanced at you. "You look a little stressed."

"It’s been a couple of stressful days," you replied. "But I’ll survive. You know I always do," you added with a smile.

Gwen was the fashion designer you shared the downtown office with. She was more experienced than you and ran her signature shop below the office, filled with beautiful, unique pieces. Thankfully, she was always a helping hand when you got stuck with an Excel sheet or needed advice on balancing work and life.

The next day was more of the same. Mid-month meant analyzing how the brands were doing—were they selling? Were they stagnant? Was there a new trend going viral? Or an upcoming holiday to leverage?

Your phone buzzed, interrupting your focus.

"I hope this isn’t weird, but did you get the right number? Or the payment? It felt like I was left on a cliffhanger."

You smiled at the text from the stranger who had received your initial messages.

"Not weird at all! I’d be curious too. And yes, I got the right number, and I think he’s paying me today!"

"Well, I’m glad! I wasn’t going to sleep without knowing how it ended."

"I’ll update you as soon as the payment comes through! lol."

Maybe it was odd to have a conversation with a stranger, but they didn’t even know who you were, so what did it matter?

"Please do. 🙏🏻"

You thought of that viral story about the grandma who accidentally texted a stranger and ended up inviting him to Thanksgiving dinner. But in your boring life, nothing like that could ever happen. You weren’t particularly chatty or extroverted in real life, but since they didn’t know who you were, what was the harm?

——-

"Update: The payment came in!!"

"Thank God! I’m happy for you, and it’s not even my money."

"Well, thank you for answering. Otherwise, I’d still be texting you about my lost payment."

"My pleasure. Is it okay if I ask what your job is? I’m curious—it’s my first time being a wrong number!"

"Is it weird to be texting a stranger who randomly asks about my job?" you asked Gwen, showing her the texts.

"What does that even mean?" she asked, confused.

"Have a look at this," you said, sliding your phone over. Gwen read the texts and smirked.

"He doesn’t even know who you are. He knows your name, but how many Y/Ns are there in London?" she said, trying to calm your overdramatic thoughts. "Or you could make up a funny, dramatic life and have fun for a few days—tell him you work in a strip club!"

You laughed softly but were tempted by the idea of harmless fun. What real danger could come from simple texts? He was the one who started asking questions, after all.

"I’m a digital marketing specialist."

"Sounds cool. I could never."

"What do you do, then?" you asked boldly.

"I own a small brand."

He technically wasn’t lying, but it wasn’t the full truth either. Maybe it was too soon to reveal his real identity. If he even had contemplated that.

"'I own a small brand?' That’s it?" you muttered to yourself. Your life wasn’t that boring after all—or maybe it was, compared to his.

Recently, you've been haunted by questions about your career. Did you even love marketing? No. Did you know what you wanted to do? No.

Your phone buzzed again, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"My name is Harry, by the way. Seems fair to tell you since I know yours."

"Nice to meet you, Harry."

You smiled at your phone, a soft, involuntary expression that you quickly brushed off. It wasn’t like you were getting attached or anything; it was just amusing. A stranger texting you was definitely the most interesting thing to happen that week. But after that, it went quiet. The conversation stopped, and you figured it was just one of those random, fleeting interactions life throws at you. Something to laugh about later with friends.

Two days later, though, your phone buzzed again. You assumed it was your mom or a group chat notification—certainly not Harry

“How did the week end for you? Any other wrong numbers?”

You blinked at the screen, taken by surprise but also oddly pleased.

“It ended pretty busy, but thank God it’s over. And no, no more wrong numbers, lol.”

“So, any weekend plans?”

How was it that this stranger, Harry, was better at keeping a conversation going than any guy you'd actually dated? It felt natural, like he genuinely wanted to talk to you, and for once, you didn’t feel like retreating into vague one-word answers.

“Nope, a bit of a boring life here. You?”

“Yeah, same.”

Okay, that was definitely a lie.

Your life was painfully average. You worked to pay rent, paid rent to keep a roof over your head, and that was it. Sure, there were good days and bad ones, clients who made you want to tear your hair out, and others who gave you glowing feedback that kept you going. But lately, when anyone asked, “What’s new?” or “What have you been up to?” your mind went blank. The truth felt too dull to say out loud.

Your love life? Also on pause. You’d had a long-term boyfriend once, but when his ambitions veered wildly away from your own, it fell apart. You didn’t hold any hard feelings, but dating apps weren’t exactly your thing, either. Deep down, you clung to the hope that someone would randomly appear in your life, the way they do in rom-coms—chocolates, flowers, and all. But you’d stopped expecting it a long time ago.

So why was a stranger, with nothing more than a name and a few texts, suddenly the most exciting part of your week? Maybe it was the mystery. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because it made you feel like you’d stepped out of your routine.

“Is it weird that I just kept on texting you? I feel like it is,” he texted again.

“A bit, but I’m enjoying it so far. It’s kind of fun, actually.”

“Ok, thank God we’re both weirdos, then. Are you based in London?”

And just like that, the fun felt like it came to a halt. He was asking for your location now. Sure, London was massive—1,572 km² of sprawling city—but your anxiety immediately perked up. Was this crossing a line? Did he want to track you down or something?

But then, the little mischievous devil on your shoulder chimed in. Relax, it’s harmless fun. It’s not like you two are actually going to meet, or like he’s going to know your exact address just because you said you lived in London.

The devil wins.

“Yes, I’m in London. You?”

Your turn, Harry man, you thought. And then, as if on cue, your brain jumped onto a rollercoaster of wild thoughts. Wait, what if he’s a 50-year-old? Or worse—a 15-year-old hormonal teen?! You shook your head. No, no, he’s a brand owner, you reminded yourself.

Was this fear of the unknown creeping in? Or... was it just pure curiosity?

“Yes, around Notting Hill.”

You stared at your phone, a bit shocked. Did he really just tell you his neighborhood? Was this man never taught about the dangers of sharing personal details with strangers?

Says the girl who keeps answering his texts.

“Cool,” you panic-texted back, immediately cringing at how abrupt it sounded.

A second later, another message from him popped up:

“You don’t have to tell me your neighborhood. I know it’s probably TMI. Sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

You blinked at the screen.

Wait, was he apologizing? For oversharing?

“It’s fine, but be careful, I might be a stalker. You never know 😉”

An emoji? Oh my god, did I just use an emoji?

You internally cringed, debating whether deleting the message was still an option. But his reply came quickly:

“I’m used to that.”

You stared at your phone, baffled. What? What does that even mean? Was he used to stalking people? Or being stalked? That didn’t even make sense. Had you missed some new meme or slang? Or was he just trying to sound cocky and mysterious? Either way, your brain was now racing, trying to decode mystery Harry man.

Harry, on the other hand, was staring at his phone, feeling a wave of nervousness wash over him. Shit, did that just give away who I am? He tried to reassure himself. Maybe not. It could pass as just a random response... right? But the doubt crept back in. Then again, if it’s just a random response, does that make me seem really weird? Ugh, why didn’t I think before typing? He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he waited for your reply, wondering if he’d managed to keep things casual—or accidentally made it more suspicious but as you never did he quickly types another thing

“Hey, can you help me with something?”

You stared at the message, your eyebrows furrowing. Whatever this is turning into, it’s really, REALLY weird, you thought. But at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel a bit thankful that he’d brushed off the whole stalking comment. Now he wanted help?

“I’m about to launch a new collection next month, and I need to choose four nail polish colors for a kit. Which ones would you pick?”

He sent a picture of a color sample sheet, words scribbled around it like, “Too bright?” “Love this one,” and “OUT.” The paper rested on a dark wood table, and you couldn’t help but notice his right hand in the frame, his nails painted in a sleek shade.

A man wearing nail polish? you thought, biting back a grin. What’s sexier than a guy with zero fragile masculinity?

STOP. Sexier? Seriously?

STOP. He’s a stranger.

“I would go with, the coral one at the top, the navy, the nude and the green”

“That’s literally what I was thinking. If they sell out it’s on you y/n”

“So I’ll be expecting a good commission then”

“Deal and thanks, by the way. For actually helping. I wasn’t sure you’d reply to that one.”

“No worries, it’s kind of nice having someone randomly text me about nail polish drama. Way better than client emails. Didn’t thought your business was about nail polishes though”

“Glad to be of service. Let me know if you ever need a second opinion on, I dunno, which shade of PowerPoint gray to use.”

“My saviour”

“That 's me. A true giver. Anyway, I’ll stop bothering you for now. But seriously, thanks again, Y/N.”

“No problem. Good luck with the collection!”

The conversation ends with more questions than answers about Harry��nail polishes? Why is this conversation flowing so effortlessly? It left you curious but not uneasy. Both of you felt like this wasn’t the last time you’d talk. It was a small, unexpected connection, one that neither of you was quite ready to let go of.

—-

Your mom’s birthday went on as planned. You were able to buy her a beautiful scarf from one of her favorite brands—pricey, yes, but it was your mom, so you didn’t mind splurging. And if you happened to overdo your sister this time? Well, that wasn’t the point, not entirely. But deep down, it felt good to prove to yourself that you could keep up, even if her success with her law firm always felt like a shadow hanging over you.

It had been five days since you and Harry last texted. It felt... normal. No stomach-wrecking nerves like the ones you got when talking to guys you were interested in. No overanalyzing if you’d been annoying, rude, or too eager. With Harry, it was different. Maybe it was because he was still mostly a stranger. Maybe because you weren’t trying to impress him. Or maybe because you knew deep down that, even if he didn’t reply again, it wouldn’t sting. At least for now.

After a few days of sporadic texting, Harry throws out an idea, the text that changed everything.

“Okay, hear me out: since we both don’t want to seem like stalkers, how about a deal? We get to ask one random question a day. Nothing creepy or too revealing. Just normal stuff. What do you think?”

You smirked at the screen. He’s trying to make it less weird? Bold of him to assume this isn’t already weird.

“Alright, but you go first”

“Fine. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?”

“Somewhere coastal. Like Brighton, maybe? I need the sea to remind me I’m alive.”

“Interesting choice. I’d go somewhere quiet, but still close to a city. Like, Italy?”

You paused for a second, feeling a little silly. He chose a whole other country, and you’d barely ventured two and a half hours away from London. Still, it was a start.

The daily questions continued, evolving from a simple game into something that felt more like a natural rhythm. Each question peeled back another layer of this stranger you were beginning to know better, even without ever seeing his face. You learned that Harry loved tea but hated coffee—how do you even function?—and that his favorite season was autumn. He found out you adored thunderstorms and had an irrational fear of elevators, thanks to a terrifying incident years ago when an elevator you were in nearly dropped two floors.

It wasn’t just the questions, though. There were moments in between: a blurry photo of an office corner from Harry, captioned, “My life in chaos”; a street view of Downtown that you sent, carefully avoiding any landmarks near your home. Then there was the fluffy golden retriever he’d spotted on his way to work—he couldn’t resist sharing it with you.

Before bed each night, you’d find yourself thinking for at least twenty minutes, trying to decide what to ask next. The game didn’t feel like a game anymore. It was something else, something steady and comforting. For now, there was no pressure to meet or cross any lines—just two strangers finding small joys in their shared curiosity. But now it felt refreshing and even exciting whenever his or your question popped up on the phone.

It was a rare Sunday sunny afternoon in London, and you found yourself strolling down the street. The shops buzzed with life, tourists snapping photos, and locals hurrying along with their errands. You were looking forward to reach that particularly small ice cream shop you loved. That’s when you saw it—a storefront with sleek, funky decor and the words Pleasing printed elegantly across the window. You slowed your pace, curiosity pulling you closer. The display was stunning: a lineup of nail polishes in perfectly curated colors. Coral. Navy. Nude. Green.

Your heart skipped a beat.

No. It couldn’t be. This is just a coincidence.

You even felt silly for considering it. But for a moment, you just stood there, staring at the bottles neatly arranged under soft, flattering light. Your mind raced back to that conversation. Harry when he had asked for your opinion on nail polish colors. Coral, navy, nude, and green. The same exact shades in the window now.

It HAD to be a coincidence.

“Pleasing is huge…Harry is a huge pop star too” you thought to yourself, folding your arms as if to shield your thoughts from prying eyes. “There’s no way. It’s not like that Harry would just randomly text someone asking for nail polish advice. Or just to play a silly game of questions everyday”

But the seed of doubt was planted. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, breaking your trance. For a split second, you expected to see a message from him. But it was just a group chat notification—nothing exciting. You took a deep breath, willing your mind to behave. “Stop being ridiculous” you tought “He was probably just some regular guy with the same first name, with the same kind of business. Nothing more.”

Still, as you walked away from the shop, the memory of his texts lingered, trailing behind you like the shadow of a question you couldn’t quite answer. Was it possible? Could he have been the Harry all along? The thought was outrageous, yet your heart raced with the tiniest flicker of hope—or was it just pure curiosity? You slipped your phone out of your pocket, scrolling back through weeks of messages. One by one, you opened the pictures he had sent, your eyes scanning every corner, every detail, hoping for something—a slip-up, a clue, anything to confirm or dismiss the wild idea.

There was the photo of the nail polish color samples, laid out on a dark wooden table. You zoomed in on the edge of the frame. The faintest reflection of something metallic—jewelry? A ring? You’d noticed his hand before, polished nails and all, but now you studied it with new intent.

Then, there was the picture of a cat, curled up on a plush couch. The background caught your attention this time: the kind of sleek, minimalist decor that wouldn’t look out of place in a magazine. It could belong to anyone, really…but why did it suddenly seem so…familiar? Your finger hovered over the screen as you stared at his name in your contacts: Harry. Just Harry.

And yet, the thought wouldn’t leave you alone. You zoomed in on one last photo—the corner of his shoe peeking into the frame of a sunset he’d sent you. White Sambas. Completely ordinary. But the tiniest voice in the back of your mind whispered, or maybe not.

You locked your phone and shoved it back into your pocket, your cheeks burning as if someone had caught you red-handed in your amateur sleuthing. “Get a grip,” you thought. “Even if it was him, he’d never admit it. And honestly, why would he have time to text a stranger?”

Still, the idea danced at the edge of your thoughts, impossible to ignore. As you walked away from the Pleasing shop, a small, secret smile tugged at your lips. Even if it was crazy, the idea was kind of…fun.

The easy back-and-forth continued for days, it was like a month by now, his messages feeling less like texts from a stranger and more like snippets of a conversation with someone familiar. You felt lighter, laughing more often, and somehow the world didn’t seem quite as dull as it did a few weeks ago.

Then, one night, came a new question:

“If you could pick one place to meet a stranger for the first time, where would it be?”

Wait. Wait. Wait. Is this what I think it is?

Your heart jumped as you stared at the screen, the words blurring for a second. You thought for a moment, carefully choosing your response before typing: “A café. Casual, safe, easy to leave if they’re weird. Full of people, maybe near a police station if they’re a serial killer. You?”

His response came quicker than you expected.

“But if you could pick an estimated time to meet a stranger, how long would you wait to feel comfortable with it?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “Nice try, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Tulip 🌷.”

Oh no. That wasn’t your stomach growling in hunger; those were butterflies. Actual, undeniable butterflies. Was it even possible to feel something for someone you had no idea what they looked like? What if he was totally different in person, the opposite of this charming, thoughtful guy behind the texts?

Harry had started calling you Tulip after you’d mentioned they were your favorite flowers, and somehow, it stuck. Now, every time he used it, it made you smile like a fool.

Maybe his question was just a throwaway comment, harmless banter before he said goodnight. Or... maybe it wasn’t.

----

One Friday morning, you found yourself buried in work at a café you liked to visit when you needed a break from your desk. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of quiet chatter helped you focus on a new project.You were mid-email when your phone buzzed.

“Today’s question: what’s your go-to coffee order?”

You smiled, grabbed your cup, and snapped a quick picture to attach to your reply. “An iced latte with oat milk. Drinking one right now.”

“Is that a café?”

“Yeah, it didn't feel like an office day today.”

Moments later, your phone buzzed again, and your stomach dropped.

“…I think I see you.”

Your heart stuttered. Wait. What? Your eyes flicked around the café with a mixture of curiosity and panic. Students were typing away on laptops, a few professionals were deep in email mode, and a couple laughed over their pastries at the next table. Everything seemed normal—except now you felt like you were being watched. You straightened in your seat, pretending to be calm while your mind raced. Another buzz.

“I don’t mean to freak you out, but… blue sweater, iced latte, corner seat by the window?”

Your stomach did a flip. That was definitely you. The serial killer theories came roaring back in your brain.

“Okay, very funny. That was just a lucky guess, wasn’t it?” You hit send, not sure if you wanted him to be joking or if you secretly hoped he was serious.

“No joke. I swear.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you set the phone down. You scanned the room more carefully now, eyes darting from one face to another. Was it the guy with the newspaper in the corner? The barista behind the counter? And then, you saw him.

A man near the door, half-hidden behind sunglasses and a black baseball cap, a scarf loosely wrapped around his neck, holding a cup. He was leaning casually against the wall, phone in hand.

Holy fucking shit. No. No way. Your brain scrambled for logic. This was just a dream, right? Some random coincidence. But your phone buzzed again, yanking you back into reality.

“Disappointed?”

Your breath hitched. He’d sent the text just as you watched him tap his phone. And when your screen lit up, he glanced up—right at you.

It wasn’t a coincidence.

It was him. Harry. Your Harry. and Everyone's Harry Styles.

PART 2!!

-------

#harry styles #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry fic #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #hs fanfic #one shot harry styles #one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing

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jellesreid · 8 days ago

Text

Inexperienced

In which Spencer mentions to his girlfriend a conversion he and Derek had about sex that leads to Spencer’s first time with reader. (smut!)

word count: 2.1k

tags: early seasons Spencer, inexperienced Spencer, glasses Spencer, love, couple, first time, sex, oral sex, blow job, male receiving, fingering, fem reader, small plot, porn without much plot, aftercare, cuddling, falling asleep together, sharing clothes, Spencer turned on by you in his clothes, pulling hair, messy, talking through it, small praise kink

warnings: 18+ SMUT! Oral sex (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), Spencer finishes in reader’s face.

notes: I think this is the first time i’ve ever written a blow job so if it’s bad i’m so sorry. Hope you horny people enjoy.

—————————🖤————————-

Your legs were draped across Spencer’s lap as he ran a hand up and down them unconsciously as you were both engrossed in a crime documentary.

“Morgan and I got into a conversation about umm oral sex today. He asked me how my first experience was,” Spencer said without looking away from the TV and stuttering slightly about what terminology to use that would be less crude.

“Giving or receiving?” You replied wanting to know where this was going.

“Receiving.”

“So you were discussing blow jobs,” You asked.

“I suppose yes,” Spencer said, his face going a bit red.

“And how was your first one?” You asked.

“That’s the thing… I haven’t had one before.”

You looked over at him, “Never?”

“Never, I told you on our third date that I was a virgin,” Spencer said finally looking at you.

“Yes, but I didn’t know that included those kinds of things. You’ve never had anything or done anything to anyone?”

“Nope, nothing.”

“Are you curious? I don’t need us to have sex by the way I’m fine without it. I’m just checking in to see where you’re at,” You gave him a comforting smile.

“That’s what I wanted to talk about.”

“Okay,” You paused the TV, “take your time.”

“I think I’d like to try it?” Spencer said but it sounded more like a question.

“You’d like me to give you a blow job?”

Spencer coughed awkwardly, “Yes…please, only if you’re comfortable of course. And I would like to do something for you.”

“I’m comfortable, Spence, I’d be more than happy to do that for you. What would you like to do to me?”

“I’m not sure,” He bit the inside of his mouth.

“That’s okay, We can start with you. Did you want to do it now?” You asked.

“Maybe later tonight if you’re staying over?” The man had a hopeful smile on his face.

“Of course, I’ll stay you know I adore waking up next to you .”

——————

“Are you tired?” Spencer asked as you began to undress for bed.

“A little,” You said, pulling one of his oversized t-shirts over your almost naked body.

“Okay that’s fine,” He said back fiddling with the page of his book.

“Did you want something, Spence? We need to get this communication thing right and to do that you have to speak to me.”

“I know, I was just wondering if you wanted to do it now,” He asked shyly.

“Do what?” You seemed confused before remembering your conversation from earlier, “Ohhhh, you want a blow job now.”

“Umm,” he rubbed his neck, “Yes, you’re really pretty and you look good in my shirt…”

“You’re turned on by me wearing your clothes?”

“Well yes, you look good in my clothes.”

You grabbed a hair tie from the bedside table on the side you slept on and pulled your hair back into a quick messy ponytail.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked his voice cracking towards the end.

“Putting my hair up so it doesn’t get in the way.”

“You’re actually gonna-“

“Spence if you want this then I want to do it,” You reminded him.

“Okay,.. uhh yeah I want it.”

“Do you want to take my shirt off?”

Spencer nodded his head quickly already reaching out toward you. You moved closer to him until his hands made contact with the hem of your shirt.

He took his time lifting your shirt off slowly while your hands rested on the waistband of his checked pyjama bottoms.

Once your shirt was fully off his eyes were glued to your breasts while his fingers gently brushed against each swell.

“You’ve seen them before baby,” You giggled, you always enjoyed how he touched your chest and you couldn’t wait for him to finally touch you in other places.

“I know but they’re beautiful,” He massaged your nipples with his thumbs.

“Can you take your pants off?” Spencer obeyed you almost immediately getting up from the bed and removing them.

He took his boxers off not even a second later. His cheeks flushed a light pink at how hard his dick was as it sprung out of the boxers, “Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? Come here.”

Spencer took a couple of steps to reach the bed where he was now standing in front of you. You knelt on the bed reaching your neck up and placing a kiss on his lips, “You’re perfect.”

“Thank you,” He replied in a timid tone.

“Sit,” You pat a spot on the bed before standing up.

Spencer once again obliged as you got on your knees in front of him, “Are you okay?” You checked in with him.

“Yeah, I think so, are you?”

“Yes babe I’m good,” He was the sweetest man ever of course you knew he would check on you too despite knowing you’d done this more than once, “Don’t hold back with anything, I like having my hair pulled.”

Spencer’s eyes widened a little, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. Are you ready?”

Spencer nodded before your lips met the tip of his dick. You left a small kiss there, his pre cum spreading onto your lips.

You heard him whimper as your mouth closed around him.

After just one suck, Spencer was taking deep breaths, moans leaving his mouth every time he opened it.

“Oh my god,” He managed through breaths.

You placed your hands on his thighs taking him deep and sucking harder. One of his hands was firmly gripped the edge of the bed while the other had made its way to your hair which he pulled but only lightly.

You hummed before swirling your tongue around the tip and licking up the underside.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can hold it,” He groaned but that only egged you on more.

“I can’t-“ He cut himself off with a moan as you swirled your tongue faster.

His dick twitched inside your mouth indicating he was close and just as you were sure he was about to cum in your mouth he pulled out of your mouth as he orgasmed. His cum going over your face and breasts.

“Spencer!”

“Oh my god, I'm so so sorry that wasn’t meant to happen.”

“Why didn’t you finish in my mouth? Now I’m messy,” You groaned, you didn’t want to make too much of a deal out of it because you didn’t want him to feel bad.

“I didn’t know if you’d want that…”

“Of course, I didn’t really want it over my face,” You reached for the tissue box on the bedside table.

“Did you know semen actually has many health benefits, especially for the skin? Some people believe it helps with ageing and acne but there is no scientific proof to support it,” Spencer rambled between breaths.

“Are you saying I have bad skin?” You laughed.

“What no! Of course not.”

“I’m teasing honey, next time please just finish in my mouth,” You got up from your knees climbing up onto the bed and laying on her side of the bed beside him.

“Can I still… You know, do you?” He asked after nodding in response.

“Now?”

“Please?”

“If you want to, I don’t want you to feel like you have to though,” You ran your fingertips over his arm.

“I don’t feel like I have to I just want to do it.”

Spencer started moving so you bent your knees and opened them to make some room in front of you.

“You’re so beautiful,” He said running his thumb from your hip to the top of your low-rise black lace underwear.

“Thanks, baby,” You reached a hand out running your fingers through it.

“Can I take those off?” He asked rubbing the waistband of the panties.

“Yes, whenever you like,” You smiled, biting your lip, you had thought about this for a while, his hands were one of your favourite things about him just from the way he held you or even from the way he tracked the page when he read so you knew after this you’d like them a lot more.

He pulled the underwear off throwing them to the floor. He rested his hands on the apex of both of your thighs opening them a little more.

“What do you want me to do next?” He asked before placing some kisses on your lips,

“Touch me… please.”

Spencer ran one of his thumbs over your folds from the entrance and upwards but stopped before reaching your clit, “Like this?”

“Uh huh,” You squirmed in your place on the bed making Spencer’s grip tighten on your thigh.

He moved his thumb away but immediately replaced it with his middle and ring finger making the same motion as before.

His two fingers grazed your clit, pushing down on it lightly, “How do you like it?”

“Anyway,” You groaned.

“Circular motion?”

You nodded, “Yes, uh huh.”

He started with slow circles but gradually got faster and harder with it as his confidence grew.

You moaned, “Yes! Spence. Inside please!”

Spencer slid two of his fingers into you stretching you apart.

“Spencer! Slow ow,” Your eyes widened.

He removed them, “Sorry! I got too confident.”

“It’s okay you were doing so well, just start with one I’ll tell you when I’m ready for two.”

Spencer spread your wetness around your folds coating his fingers in it, “Ready?”

“Yes.”

He slid one finger inside of you, moving it in and out slowly to help you adjust, the tip nudging your G-spot when he pushed in.

“Add another one!” You panted through moans.

Spencer did as you wished pushing it inside. Stilling both fingers for a moment until you were ready to have him move them.

The feeling of his fingers being buried in your warm walls was something he could get addicted to easily. He could also get addicted to the way your face contorted with pleasure when he hit the right spots.

“Move, please,” Your eyes fluttered shut as you spoke.

Spencer moved his fingers slowly until he found your G-spot. Your moans gave him the confidence he needed to speed up.

Once he added his thumb into the mix using it to rub circles on your clit while still stroking the spot inside of you, your moans got louder and you helped him by moving your hips to ride his fingers.

“I’m so close baby,” You groaned between breaths.

Spencer felt your walls tighten around his fingers as he moved them in a hooking motion sticking to the same pace though he remembered reading something about women not needing a man to go faster when they are close but to stick to exactly what they’re doing.

“Spence!” You called out before sucking in a deep breath as you came around his fingers.

He knew not to remove his fingers immediately so he slowly pumped them in and out to help you through your orgasm until you got your breath back.

Once your eyes opened and your breaths had regulated he gently pulled his fingers out of you earning a whine from you at the loss.

Spencer inspected his glistening fingers and blushed, “Did I do good?”

“Oh so good babe, really good,” You propped yourself up on your elbows to kiss him.

“Can I try it?” He nodded his head towards his fingers.

“If you want to?”

Spencer cleaned his fingers off in his mouth, groaning at the taste, “You taste amazing, I can’t wait to do that again. You’re so beautiful like this, sweat glistening on your skin, messy hair, your eyes sparkling.”

“Stop,” You blushed, “I love you.”

“I love you too, but you should probably go to the bathroom to help reduce the risk of a UTI and then we should try to get some sleep,” He said stroking the side of your hair.

“I know honey, just give me a second.”

Eventually, you left the bed to go and everything you needed before you went to sleep.

When you came back into the bedroom Spencer was lying in bed without his shirt on and the main light off.

“I like your hair when you actually wash it,” You joked getting in the bed next to him.

“I always wash it! I just put gel in for work, it looks more professional,” he scrunched his nose as the bridge of his glasses fell down.

“It looks greasy honey,” You kissed the side of his head.

“I’ll put less in,” He groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head into the crook of your neck, “Goodnight,” He left a kiss near your collarbone, “Thank you for tonight.”

“You don’t have to thank me, I love you, sleep well,” You kissed the top of his head and waited for him to fall asleep before you did.

—————————🖤————————-

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bunnis-monsters · 4 months ago

Text

NSFW

A/N: 2k words, another Kofi member request about a Kappa!

warnings: breeding, anal

Nearly every afternoon during the summer, you enjoyed walking down to the local river to cool off. You’d swim for a bit and sunbathe before eating some snacks.

Before, you disliked going out on your own, but after finding a secluded spot you found out that spending time by yourself was relaxing. In nature and surrounded by the comforting sounds of the river, you could find peace.

Maybe it was the sudden heat wave, maybe it was the riverbed starting to dry up, but you noticed some of the frogs and smaller reptiles dying. It upset you, and you started leaving out small dishes full of water. You’d come home from the river to find hordes of small creatures enjoying the refreshments.

After putting out a fresh dish of water, you wrapped your towel around your body. You were soft, plump, with stretch marks on your thighs, belly, and breasts. Though it used to make you insecure, you rarely felt that way anymore, especially since you started wearing next to nothing at your secluded river spot.

On the way there, you heard a strange sound, like a mix of hiss and whine. It sent you on edge. Was something injured out here? Sometimes you spotted the occasional reptile or cat that needed help…

But there wasn’t a cat.

You pulled back the leaves of a large bush, peering inside. It took a moment for you to register what exactly you were looking at.

Some… creature was lying under the shade of the bush, breathing shallowly and making sounds of distress. It seemed strangely dried out, like a work caught on the sidewalk after a storm.

“H-hello?”

The creature went silent at the sound of your voice, beady eyes glancing up at you. Its skin was taut and slightly wrinkled, and its voice was raspy.

“Help… me…”

You jumped when it spoke, your eyes going wide as you took in its entire body. It was shaped like a human, but with green skin and a turtle shell covering its torso. For a moment you could only stare in shock, unable to do anything but open and close your mouth without speaking.

“Water…”

Despite not knowing what it was and if it was dangerous, you couldn’t in good conscious leave a helpless creature to suffer like that.

You ran to the river, taking out your water canteen and filling it with water. Once it was full, you ran back to the creature.

“Here, drink this…”

It made a strange sound, weakly pushing your hand away. Why was it resisting?

It was then you realized the creature wasn’t pushing you away, it was guiding you upwards towards its head.

There was a small dish there…

“Fill… it with water… and I’ll be forever in your debt.”

You didn’t hesitate, filling the small dish with the water. It was almost instant, the creature was on its feet and cheering, letting out happy chirps as its face nuzzled into yours.

“Thank you, thank you…”

You weren’t sure what to think of this… thing. After attempting to leave it in the wild and go home, you begrudgingly let it follow after you.

It was clingy, constantly rubbing its head against you and letting out this affectionate purr. You’d have to do some research once you got home…

As you got comfortable in your computer chair and opened your laptop, it peaked over the back, blinking as it watched you type in a few things.

Green skin, a turtle shell, and a shallow water dish on its head… every result told you it was a creature called the Kappa.

Though some of the creatures’ behaviors did concern you, the kappa before you seemed to be placated and obedient due to you saving it.

It began living with you… and you soon learned that it was… very fond of you.

Some days when you wore looser clothing, it would peek under your shirts or shorts, with an almost innocent curiosity. It started making you shy as you realized it was a he when his cock poked out, bobbing with need as he stared at your plump ass as you showered.

You were soft, with stretch marks on your breasts, belly, and thighs, and he seemed fascinated by that. He traced his webbed fingers along your stretch marks, letting out a content purr as you whined a bit.

He was a large guy, a soft belly and muscular to boot, easily able to pick you up when he wanted and could also easily pin you down. Thoughts like those flustered you… why were you thinking of that creature like this!?

Lately, it had been staying close to you at all times, letting out strange noises minutes before a male would pass by outside. Be it a human, dog, cat, or something else, he hated any male getting near you.

“Have to take care of you…” he murmured, his hand moving over your soft belly as he admired your plump body. “You saved me, I owe you that…”

You weren’t exactly sure that was the whole truth, though. He looked at you with needy eyes, his cock often erect and beading precum. His hands tended to wander along your body when he was near you, and you were starting to feel needy yourself.

Indulging him a bit wouldn’t hurt, would it?

It was nearing fall, meaning he stayed inside more often, soaking in your tub to stay moisturized and cuddling up with you if it got even slightly cold.

That meant you felt his erection rubbing against your fat thighs, sometimes slipping between them to use your thighs to get off. You didn’t really mind, even slightly rocking your hips to help him.

He adored your ass, often squeezing and playing with it, pulling apart your cheeks to look at your cute hole. Of course you shooed him away before he could push his fingers into you… but sometimes you wanted to give in.

This made you want him even more. He was always bringing home fish and fresh vegetables for you to eat, and it was too late to go back when you realized he was courting you.

The kappa saw you as his mate, his to protect and breed during the fall and winter so you’d produce his young by the upcoming spring.

His efforts began to increase the second snow began to fall. He’d go out to the river daily, coming back with too much fish for you to eat, but he insisted on filling you up for the winter.

You were already fat, a plump and curvy person, but now your belly was even softer, your stretch marks growing. This seemed to please him…

He let out a soft purr as he nuzzled his face against your neck, nibbling softly. Every day his affections grew bolder, and he was close to mating with you.

You could see the warning signs. His hands wondering, nest building, his scent lingering on your body long after he had pulled away…

It was early December when he came to you, clingy and upset. You had left the house for a few hours to do run some errands and returned to a very upset and jealous kappa.

“H-hey, it was just a little bump on the shoulder!”

But he wasn’t listening to your explanation. He could smell a man’s scent on you, and that was driving him crazy. You had run into someone accidentally, that was all, but it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

The kappa was letting out an upset whine, pinning you down as he continued to nuzzle his face into you, his erection rubbing against your clothed cunt.

It was… exhilarating, feeling his webbed fingers pull your thighs apart. He took a sniff between your legs, tilting his head and letting out a contented purr when he was able to see your pussy.

You whimpered when he toyed with your clit, his tongue pushing past your plump pussy lips and into your hole. Your taste was something the kappa had never experienced before, and he could tell you were a fertile mate just by that alone.

“Pretty…”

The kappa was not a creature of many words, so to hear him compliment you in this way had you clenching around his tongue.

It didn’t take long for him to bring you to orgasm, you were so pent up from holding yourself back all these months that it was easy to make you cum.

You could tell he didn’t have much of an idea of what he was doing, it was all instincts, but you enjoyed every touch and lick.

Before long, his cock was throbbing too much to ignore and he climbed on top of you, once again nuzzling and butting his head against you affectionately as he pressed the tip of his cock against your dripping hole.

It was clear what he wanted. His hand was on your belly, feeling the soft fat and texture of your stretch marks as he pushed in.

His mind was filled with images of your belly being big and swollen, being a perfect little mate and parent to his young.

With those thoughts in mind, he pushed into you, his hand grabbing a handful of your ass as he fucked you. You felt his fingers wander, pushing into your asshole and pumping in and out as his cock stretched your pussy out.

It was all too much, you felt like you were going to burst!

He focused on your pussy at first, determined to successfully breed you. He blinked and stared down at his cock as it pushed in and out. Your pussy looked so pretty, stretching around him…

He kept going until he came inside of you, filling you up and making your belly bulge. It was an incredible sight, his eyes lighting up while his hand rubbed over your swollen belly.

But he was far from done with you. After filling you up, he turned you on your belly, lifting your hips up and pressing his cock into your asshole. It was a strange sensation. You had used toys on your pussy before, but had never tried with your ass…

He went crazy, his thrusts rough and fast. He couldn’t help it, seeing the way your fat rippled as he pounded into you was enough to drive a man mad.

Kappas loved ass, and he was no exception to this rule. He groaned as he melted into you, holding onto your hips and leaving imprints of his webbed fingers on your sensitive flesh.

The kappa was only satisfied once he had thoroughly claimed both your ass and pussy for himself, and finally curled up with you for a break. He was so happy, purring and snuggling with you.

Your body was sore and you felt exhausted, but you were strangely happy too. No human partner had ever treated you as something so beautiful and precious, but the kappa made sure to worship your body the entire time he mated with you.

With how swollen and heavy your belly was with cum, you had no doubt that if interbreeding with kappas was possible, you’d be heavily pregnant with his young in no time. He had filled you to the brim, and you were content to rest in his arms for the night.

As winter continued, you spent more time at home than usual, even requesting to work from home instead of going out every day. It was a lot more comfortable to be with your kappa lover all day.

After all, who would pick staying in a boring office and doing paperwork over going home and getting your brains fucked out by a handsome kappa?

Life sure as hell was different, but you couldn’t complain. You were happy, and no one would ever take you away from the kappa. He was your lover and protector for the rest of all time.

And he was more than happy to do it, too.

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briseroyawritingsblog · 6 months ago

Text

𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈

𝒐𝒍𝒅!𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕!𝒇𝒆𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. unprotected sex, cream pie, rough sex, innocence kink, large unspecified age gap, daddy kink, smoking, alcohol consumption etc. beware—

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

dividers by @anitalenia 💓

The thick smoke clouds could be cut with a knife the moment you entered his house the doors were left partly open so no harm right? You searched for him in the kitchen but you found him sitting by the fireplace in the living area. Manspread..Book in hand adjusting his reading glasses, cigar lazily resting between his lips. There he was.. the man who made your core pulse. That was a secret though.. nobody could ever know that you’ve been crushing on him ever since you moved next door to his house. He was not married, and he knew that for sure because every woman who ever ended up going home with him? Left the next day— you didn’t judge that of course. Maybe he didn’t want anything serious. Most men… are like that. No?

“Erhm.. Mr Howlett? My father asked me if you could come over today afternoon. The material arrived for the renovations..” you stuttered softly. He looked up from his book giving you a soft nod. “Of course kid, tell your father I’ll be there later” you nodded and hurried out of his house touching your chest as you ran over to your house walking in through the backyard. Your cheeks flushed softly red– the images reappeared in your mind, the way he smokes his cigars.

“C’on” you heard a frustrated groan from the kitchen. You peeked your head inside only to see Mr Howlett in a white vest, biceps glistening with sweat taking measurements of the kitchen cabinets. “Come here kid” he rumbles softly. You nearly tripped approaching him “how can I help?” You whispered looking at the tools “specs, on the table please” he motioned with his large hand. You nodded taking his reading glasses from the table passing them over “thanks sweetheart. Whatcha doing here? Heard your mother left to do shopping” you sighed leaning against the kitchen counter “I know I was just busy with housework” Your eyes were on his flexed muscles. You swallowed when he stepped right in front of you to take measurements again your face practically meeting with his large chest. “Sorry..” you breathed closing your eyes. “S’alright” he smiled small. Hand on the cabinet above your head the older man met your gaze. There was something in them… darkness.. perhaps something very forbidden.. you cleared your throat the moment you heard your father on the phone outside in the garden slipping past Logan scrambling quickly upstairs to your room. It was a shame.. you know nothing about men. He made you so curious, that your thoughts made you open your laptop and search pictures. First you typed ‘kissing’ the images came up blurred so you switched off the adult content button and returned back on the pictures your eyes widened in curiosity. So many moving pictures which were called ‘gifs’ the way some of the men kissed the women. You moistened your lips by licking them feeling familiar heat in your belly and butterflies. You never watched porn or anything like that but you saved some of those ‘gifs’ of couples kissing and moved onto the search bar to type ‘sex’ images came up some of the black and white and you gasped looking at the various positions women were put. The way the men’s hips clashed against the woman’s butt and the moaning expressions on their faces– you shamelessly bit your lower lip and closed your laptop. You imagined kissing Mr Howlett so many times. Maybe you could ask him to kiss you and do things to you.. to teach you how things like that feel. You thought of so many ways… but you also didn’t want to come out as a desperate girl forcing herself on an older man. How could you only do this?

Mr Howlett stayed for dinner. You didn’t expect him to but your mother and father insisted so you were seated next to him. You were heaving some veggies and steak.. it was one of your favourites but you didn’t think of anything else but the ‘gifs’ you saved. The kissing ones. You watched Mr Howletts forearms as he cut into his steak before your mother interrupted you “y/n it’s rude to stare.” You looked down at your plate face covering your hair so Logan couldn’t see your face. Your cheeks heated momentarily— stuffing your face with veggies you then excused yourself needing a breather outside on the front porch. Stealing one of your father’s cigarettes you lit sitting on the steps. Hearing the door open you sighed “Mom I’ll be in soon” apologising you heard footsteps approaching you so you hid the cigarette. “You should go inside it’s not safe here bub” Logan slipped on his jacket walking down the steps turning to you. “I’m not a little girl Mr Howlett.. thank you for your concern” his expression turned into a scowling one the moment he saw the cigarette. “Give it to me” he put his hand out. “No.” You muttered softly. “Y/N..” he grumbled approaching you “Smoking is fucking bad for you.” He continued. “Don’t care” you took a hit in front of him that made him scowl even more. “Stop being a fucking brat and give it to me” he let out a sigh and you narrowed your eyes. “Why do you even fucking care?!” Logan shook his head a disappointed expression spread over his face. Rubbing his bearded cheek he shrugged it off. “I don’t fucking care I don’t need this.” With that he walked away. He didn’t care.. that hit your heart. Why would an older man like him care? Tears welled in your eyes, you stomped on the cigarette and walked back inside the house.

You didn’t know Logan’s urges.

You didn’t know the things you make him feel when you look at him and the times you wear skimpy little skirts riding a bike around the neighbourhood with your girlfriends. Summer holidays were his favourite because he got to see you more, you were not attending university. That’s what you told him– he loves the way you throw your head back laughing with your friends. He loves the way you walk, he even loves the way you leave your curtains open in your room so he can look at your young body when you apply lotion to your legs after shower. He knows your breath hitches when you two are close and he enjoys every moment of your tiny sufferings. He doesn’t want to be the man of your dreams. He doesn’t want to make you cry and suffer because he cannot be yours. He doesn’t want to ruin you but that tiny innocence in your eyes makes him want to do things to you. How could you know all these feelings when he’s nothing but stern with you. Drinking away his thoughts he poured himself a glass of whiskey sitting by his fireplace thinking he was harsh with you. Weren’t you just a fragile soul? He was afraid to hurt you.. his calloused touch could mark your skin.

A knock on his door disturbed his thinking, so he looked out the window only to see you standing in front of his door practically shivering in your pyjama shorts and an oversized sweatshirt he swore he loved on you. It made you look tiny.

“What are you doing here kid?” He sighed opening the door for you. “I wanted to apologise..” you whispered. “The way I acted towards you.. I just-” you stepped inside his much warmer home looking around to find a cigar burning in the ashtray a bottle of half empty whiskey and a glass right next to it. “I don’t need your apology” he cut you off walking back to his armchair sitting back down taking his cigar to smoke it. His eyes taking in your naked legs making you shiver. “I just.. I wanted to ask you something” you mumble on making him raise a brow. “It’s pretty late, you should go home” he answers you wanting nothing but you to stay but he knew he had to make you leave. He held back so much..trying to control himself around you. “Mr Howlett you’re a good man my family says.. I was just wondering if you could help me with something” you asked him scratching your arm nervously. Pressing your thighs together “I get lots of butterflies when I’m around you.. and and.. I was wondering how does kissing feel like?” The older man nearly asked you to repeat yourself. “I am not a man for you kid..” he warned you resting his cigar between his lips. “I know.. I just.. you’re older and experienced and I don’t get butterflies with anyone else” you confessed. His rugged expression turned softer. “Come here bub.. let me tell you all about it.” He patted his knee and you approached him sitting on his knee. His big hand rested on your lower back and the other put his cigar out letting it rest in the ashtray. “I don’t know much about the female body.. but I’m sure when you have butterflies in your belly your tiny girl part gets wet” you nod quickly. “Yes.. yes Mr Howlett it gets very wet.” Your response made his cock heavy. It twitched with want– “where does it get wet sweetheart?” He whispered and you slowly spread your thighs. “Down here..” you show him. His big hand slowly itches closer to your pulsing mound and you look at him wantonly.

“Don’t look at me like that..” he breathed face leaning closer to yours and you closed your eyes ready for his lips on yours only to feel him kissing your cheek his beard prickling your tender skin. His fingers tracing your warm centre between your legs and you bucked your hips towards his hand “eager little thing..” he whispered you could hear the drunk in his voice but your hand softly caressed his veiny forearm. “Mr Howlett please..” you begged. “I won’t tell.. please destroy me” when he heard those words coming out of your lips he kissed the side of your neck sliding his big hand inside your sweatshirt to fondle your breast. You moaned, it felt differently when a man was touching you. “Just gettin’ started honey..” he licked his way into your mouth kissing you pouring out his needs before pulling away to touch your face in his one hand gently squeezing your cheeks “pretty little mouth.. do you think I could fit my cock in there nice and snug sweetie?” you nodded needing nothing but him and it didn’t matter how. Cock straining against his pants he grunted grabbing a hold of your shorts and panties pulling them down your legs dropping them on the floor. His fingers locating your sensitive bud circling it. You moaned against his neck as you clung to his shoulders. “There we go honey..feeling you tense already” he smiled, prepping you. “Open..” he groaned forcing your lips open by his fingers sliding them in your mouth to moisten them. You sucked on his fingers meeting his eyes feeling hot all over. Your juices drooling out of your hole. He tsked “So wet already?” You looked at your pussy the way he caressed your folds with his fingers slowly rubbing them in circles before stuffing them in your mound. You cried out at the feeling something so large like his fingers entering you. When he curled his digits and did a pulling motion your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head the wet sounds of your core only caused his fingers to move in and out of you faster the heat in your belly rising and rising until you cried out against his chest cumming undone on his fingers. His thumb expertly rubbing your clit, the older man smiled at you. The first you saw him smile so softly. “There we go..” you choked his fingers in you even though they weren’t as deep as you wanted him to go in order to do that he’d have to take your virginity. “I never.. I never..” you babbled lost in post orgasm as you looked at him cheeks reddening with arousal. “You’ve never..what?” Very slowly pulling his fingers out of your heat he sniffed them before slowly tasting them. You blushed deeper at his doings. “Never had sex..” you whispered shyly. “Never?” Logan asks again caressing your plaint thighs. You shook your head “never.. mr howlett can you show me it feels?” He hummed in response looking at your lips before leaning down to attack your mouth in soft kisses until you parted your mouth for his tongue. You whispered to the butterflies returning and he gracefully carried you bridal style to his bedroom.

Putting you down on your feet he helped you remove your sweatshirt leaving you naked. “I will teach you all about it sweetheart..lay down” the older man said softly and you climbed on his bed resting on your back spreading your legs for him. The sight of your glistening pussy had him growling. “Little girl hungry for old man’s cock.. that’s twisted..” he smirked teasing you watching your nipples go hard. You watched him remove his top, then undo his belt and jeans before taking them off along with his boxers. Cock bobbing, hard as a rock. The swollen tip drooling tears of pre cum. The colour of his cock made you tilt your head curiosity.. it was pink, looked swollen and hard. Just like on those pictures, your breath hitched in your chest “That’s going inside of you, bub..” he climbed on the bed nestling between your legs. You stared between your bodies as his warm swollen cock rested on your pussy. It was so big, thick.. veiny. “How.. how will it fit..?” You asked curiously hips bucking up to feel his cock even more. “Greedy little thing not know anything about cocks.. but is hungry for one..” he tsked lowering himself on top of you. You moaned at the feel of his chest, touching it with your hands. Logan groaned rubbing the tip of his cock between your folds “take a deep breath..” you did as you were told taking a deep breath before he sheated himself inside of you in one single push. “Shit..!” You cursed gasping and moaning the both of you at your unison. Your gasps were painful with discomfort because of your virginity but it faded away the moment he kissed you wrapping his arms around you. You felt so safe in his arms that you cuddled up to him pressing your lips to his shoulder arms curling around him keeping your legs open for him. You felt so full, so wet.. you felt your wetness drip forming a ring on the base of his cock. “Fuck.. ugh..” he buried his face against your neck pulling out of you leaving the tip inside before thrusting back in. Slow pace, but slowly increasing it leaving you whimpering and gasping for air “mr howlett.. it tingles, the butterflies.. Ughh ohhhh.. feels so good” you cried as he responded only in hungry growls grabbing your waist in his hands he snapped his hips into you fucking you. “Can’t hold back anymore..” he slurs peeking between your bodies watching his cock slide in and out of your ruined pussy and you cry out nodding “it’s okay daddy.. take what you need!!” logan moans under his breath eyes darkening something snapping in him hoisting your legs around his waist he grabs the pillows under your head pounding into you harder than before, more than before making your toes curl watching your pussy take all of his pounding before you claw his back “daddy.. it.. hurts.. but in a good way!! Need to cum” you breathe heavily your tits bouncing to his rapid trusts as he hovers above you breathing harshly too cock throbbing as he circles your clit “you gonna cum on my cock like a good fuckin’ girl” and you did, you screamed against his neck clinging to him nearly passing out as you did. Logan nestles your face against his neck as he snaps his hips into you growing into the pillow as his claws push out piercing the bed under you. “Fuck.. fuck.. fuck….!” He curses loudly shoving his cock deeply in you before cumming undone. The tip spurting hot streams of white in your womb breeding it full. You moan uncontrollably as you feel the warmness being released inside of you. His claws retreat moments later— using his hand to cradle your head finding your lips in a kiss. You both sweat so much feeling unbelievably tired. Logan pulls out of you, watching his cream pool out of you onto the sheets. “Let’s get you showered bub..” he whispers and you nod. He promised to take care of you. The way you called him daddy.. it repeated in his mind more than few nights..

liking, commenting, and reblogging means the world. please don’t hesitate to do so if you liked my fic.

(Apologies for any grammatical mistakes)

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seospicybin · 7 days ago

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COCKY.

CHAPTER II.

Bangchan x reader. (s,f)

Chapters: Chapter I

Synopsis: As a researcher developing a specialized condom in extra large sizes, you never expected the company’s product manager, Chris, to volunteer as a test subject—let alone for things to get this complicated. Balancing professionalism with undeniable chemistry, you must navigate a partnership that’s strictly business… or so you keep telling yourself. (19,8k words)

Author's note: Hope you can handle the amount of cockiness in this one. Pls share your thoughts on it after, enjoy ♡

As you step into the lab this morning, you expect a normal start to your day—running tests, reviewing reports, maybe dealing with Jane’s ongoing stress about her own project. But as soon as you walk in, you realize something is off.

There’s a man standing in the middle of the room, casually looking around as if he belongs there. You pause for a second, taking him in—he’s effortlessly handsome, with sharp, playful eyes that hold a spark of mischief. His dark hair is slightly tousled, as if he just ran a hand through it. The confidence in his posture is undeniable, his toned frame draped in a worn-out leather jacket over a plain white t-shirt. When he notices you, his lips curl into a smirk that suggests he’s already enjoying himself.

He notices you before you can say anything, turning to face you fully. A slow smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as he offers his hand.

"Finally, I was starting to think I had the wrong lab," he says with a playful lilt to it.

You straighten your shoulders, keeping your expression neutral as you carefully ask, “I'm sorry but who are you?”

“Han Jisung,” he introduces himself, his voice smooth and teasing as he holds his hand out at you. “Your new test subject.”

You blink. Of all the things you expected today, this was definitely not one of them. You shake his hand briefly, noting the warmth of his grip before pulling away. “Right. Thanks for coming in.”

He chuckles, tilting his head as he studies you. “Not the reaction I was expecting. Do all your test subjects get this warm welcome, or am I special?”

You keep your professionalism intact, offering a polite but firm smile. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Han takes a seat across from you, draping himself over the chair like he’s settling in for an entertaining conversation rather than a clinical interview. You step over to the counter and grab a disposable cup, filling it with the freshly brewed coffee that had been keeping you company all morning.

“Here,” you say, placing it in front of him as you take a seat across from him at the cold lab table.

He raises a brow, lifting the cup to his lips. “Well, this is already better than most first dates.”

You roll your eyes but don’t entertain the comment. “Before we begin, let me explain what we’re doing today. This session is purely an interview. We’ll go over your medical history, habits, and other necessary details to make sure you’re a suitable candidate for testing the product.”

Han takes a slow sip, eyes locked onto yours over the rim of the cup. “So no hands-on testing today?”

“Not today,” you confirm with an easy chuckle.

He hums thoughtfully. “Guess I’ll just have to be patient.”

You choose to ignore that and pick up your clipboard, clicking your pen. “Alright, let’s start with some basic questions. Your full name?”

“Han Jisung,” he replies smoothly.

“Age?”

“Twenty-four,” he says. “But if you’re into older guys, I can lie.”

You hold back a sigh and move on. “Occupation?”

“Sound engineer. Freelance.”

“Are you sexually active?”

A slow, knowing grin spreads across his face. He leans in slightly, resting his elbow on the table. “Oh, absolutely.”

You keep your face neutral. “Care to elaborate?”

He shrugs. “I believe in keeping things… consistent. And exciting.” His eyes sweep over you, lingering just a second too long. “What about you?”

You ignore him and move to the next question. “Do you smoke?”

“Nope.”

“Drink?”

“Socially,” he answers, then tilts his head. “I’m assuming you need all this info for the test, but if you wanted to get to know me, you could’ve just asked me out.”

You manage to keep your composure, offering him a mild, unbothered look. “You volunteered for this, remember?”

“I did,” Han nods, looking satisfied. “And now that I’m here, I think I made a great choice.”

You exhale through your nose, choosing to move on rather than feed into his antics. “Do you have any known allergies?”

His lips curve into something wicked. “Not to latex, if that’s what you’re asking.”

This is going to be a long interview. You mutter inside your head.

A few moments later, you glance down at your clipboard, double-checking that you’ve gone through all the necessary questions. With a satisfied nod, you set your pen down and look up at Han, who’s been watching you with an amused glint in his eyes the entire time.

“That’s all for the questions,” you inform him, maintaining your professionalism. “Before we wrap up, do you have any questions about the test?”

Han taps his fingers against the coffee cup, pretending to think. “So, just to be clear, my role in all of this is to… what? Try on the product and report back?”

You nod. “Yes. You’ll test for fit, comfort, durability, and overall performance. You’ll be given a log to record your experience each time you use it, including any issues you encounter.”

His lips twitch. “Experience, huh?”

You put on a small smile as you confirm with a nod. “Yes, experience.”

“And do I test it alone, or is that optional?” He leans in slightly, eyes dancing with mischief.

You keep your expression neutral. “That is entirely up to you.”

Han chuckles. “Noted.” He leans back in his chair, spinning the coffee cup between his fingers. “And how many times do I have to… test it?”

“Over a set period of time,” you explain patiently. “We’ll provide you with enough samples to use regularly and ask you to report back with detailed feedback.”

He hums in thought. “So, let’s say I’m a particularly… diligent tester. Does that mean I get extra credit?”

You narrow your eyes slightly. “There’s no extra credit.”

“No incentives for going above and beyond?” He places a hand over his heart. “I take my responsibilities seriously, you know.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from reacting. “Your only responsibility is to provide accurate feedback.”

He nods sagely. “And I assume you’ll be the one reviewing my… reports?”

“Yes,” you reply, starting to regret that fact.

Han grins. “Well then, I’ll make sure to be very detailed.”

You glance at the clock and decide that’s enough of this. “If you have no further questions, I think we’re done for today.”

Han stretches his arms above his head, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Alright. But don’t be surprised if I come up with more questions later. I like to be thorough.”

Somehow, you already expected that. You clear your throat, pushing aside the unexpected tension his presence brings. Keeping your tone professional, you grab your clipboard and jot down a few notes before looking up at him.

“I’ll need you back here in two days for the next part of the test,” you inform him, maintaining eye contact. “Same time, same place.”

Han tilts his head slightly, his smirk deepening. “Two days, huh?” he muses. “That feels like such a long wait.”

You exhale through your nose, unimpressed but amused. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

He hums, stepping back but not before letting his gaze linger on you for just a second longer than necessary. “Oh, I will. But still…” He takes a few steps toward the door, then turns back with a lazy grin. “Can’t wait to see you again.”

You roll your eyes but say nothing, watching as he finally exits the lab. As soon as he’s gone, you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

Just as Han reaches the door, he glances back at you with that same cocky grin. “I’ll bring coffee for our second date,” he teases, winking before stepping out.

Before you can even process a response, you hear Jane’s voice echo from the hallway. “Second date?”

Your head snaps up just in time to see her walking toward the lab, passing by Han, who gives her a playful nod before disappearing down the hall. Jane stops right in the doorway, her eyes flickering between you and where Han had just been standing.

You quickly shake your head. “It’s not—He’s just—It’s for the test.”

As soon as Han disappears down the hallway, Jane practically materializes at your side, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Who was that?” she asks, tilting her head toward the direction Han had gone.

You hesitate, not wanting to give her more reason to pry, but you know Jane well enough to realize she won’t let this go. “A participant for my product test,” you answer simply, hoping that’s enough to satisfy her.

Jane raises an eyebrow. “Right. And why did he call your next session a ‘second date’?” She crosses her arms, her gaze sharp. “Because that doesn’t sound very… professional.”

You sigh, already regretting not shutting Han down the moment he started with his playful remarks. “He’s just… like that. He’s young, flirty—doesn’t take things too seriously. But he signed up for the test, and he qualifies, so I have to deal with him.”

Jane hums, clearly unconvinced. “And you’re sure he’s here for the test? Not just to hit on you?”

You scoff. “Oh, please. I doubt he went through the entire screening process just for that.”

Jane gives you a knowing look. “Mm-hmm. Well, you better be careful. That guy looks like trouble.”

You shake your head, brushing off her concern. “It’s just work, Jane. Nothing more.”

But as you replay Han’s words in your head—Can’t wait to see you again—you wonder if dealing with him is going to be more challenging than you expected.

The elevator doors slide open, and you step in with Jane by your side. She’s already mid-conversation, rambling about her weekend and the never-ending stress over her product’s approval.

“But enough about me,” she says, turning to you as the doors close. “What about you? Where did you go this weekend?”

You keep your expression neutral, pretending to adjust the strap of your bag. “Nowhere special. Just stayed home, watched some movies.”

Jane squints. “That’s it? You didn’t go out? No dates? No fun?”

You shake your head, keeping your tone casual. “Nope. Just a quiet weekend.”

Before you can scramble for a better response, the elevator dings and the doors slide open again.

Chris steps in. He’s dressed sharp as usual and the knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips already tells you he heard the last part of your conversation.

You and Jane greet him, and he gives a polite nod in response before leaning casually against the corner of the elevator, his gaze flickering to you.

Jane faces the mirror walled one side of the elevator, fixing the smudged corner of her red painted lips, “Come on, you did nothing at all on the weekend? Not even a little adventure?”

You force a small laugh. “Nope. Just me, my couch, and Netflix.”

From the corner of your eye, you notice movement. Chris shifts slightly, and you swear you hear a quiet huff—like he’s holding back a laugh.

Jane doesn’t notice him—or if she does, she’s too focused on her interrogation. “Ugh, you’re so boring. At least tell me you had good takeout.”

You nod. “Yeah. Ordered some really... good food.”

Chris’ grin widens, and you glance at him briefly, catching the amused glint in his eyes. He’s enjoying this way too much.

The elevator dings as it reaches your floor, and you practically rush out, eager to escape Jane’s questions and Chris’ silent teasing.

As the doors slide shut behind you, you exhale. You don’t have to turn around to know Chris is still grinning.

The morning is slow, the kind that lets your thoughts linger too long on things you shouldn’t be thinking about—like the weekend you spent tangled up with Chris in that hotel suite. It’s been days, but the memories keep creeping back at the worst moments, making your skin heat up and your mind wander.

You shake it off, focusing on your work. You have a second test with Han today, and while his flirty attitude during the interview was something you could handle, you’re bracing yourself for more of his antics. Then, a knock at the door.

You barely have time to look up before Chris steps inside, moving with that easy confidence of his—like he belongs wherever he goes. His suit is crisp, the top button of his shirt undone just enough to look effortless. His hands are in his pockets, his expression unreadable except for the slight smirk tugging at his lips.

"Hard at work, I see," he says, voice smooth as ever.

You blink, caught off guard. "Chris? What are you doing here?"

He shrugs, stepping further in. "Can’t a product manager check in on his researcher?"

You narrow your eyes, already sensing his real reason for coming. "You don’t usually drop by unannounced."

Chris leisurely strolls around the lab, eyes scanning the workbenches. His gaze lands on a few product prototypes you’ve been testing, and suddenly, his lips twitch into a knowing grin.

"You know," he muses, picking up one of the silicone models, turning it over in his hand like he’s inspecting a fine piece of art, "I’m starting to think you have the best job in the company."

You sigh, already regretting letting him in. "Huh?"

"No, seriously," he continues, mock admiration in his voice as he gestures around the room, but his eyes drift towards the shelf full of dildos in all sizes. "I mean, most people deal with boring paperwork, sales reports, or, I don’t know, actual medicine. But you? You come to work every day and play with dildos."

You let out a low scoff. "I need them to test the products."

"For research, yeah, yeah, I got that," he says, nodding dramatically before setting the model down and turning to you with a teasing glint in his eyes. "So, be honest. Got a favorite?"

You shoot him an exasperated look. "Are you done?"

Chris tilts his head, pretending to think. "Not until you answer."

You cross your arms. "If I say yes, are you going to get jealous?"

He clicks his tongue, grinning. "Depends. Is it one of these, or…?" He lets the sentence trail off, his expression smug.

Your jaw drops at his implication, heat rushing to your face. "Oh my God—Chris!" You reach for the nearest pen to throw at him, but he dodges effortlessly, laughing.

"Relax," he says, still chuckling. "I’m just making sure you’re not out here conducting research without me."

"Do you have any actual work-related questions, or are you just here to waste my time?" you snap, trying to regain control of the conversation.

Chris leans against the counter, watching you with amusement. "Bit of both."

Before you can think of a comeback, the door swings open again.

"As promised, I bring coffee for the second date," Han announces, stepping in with a confident grin, two cups in hand. His dark eyes glint playfully as he holds one out to you.

The shift in the air is instant. You feel it immediately—the weight of Chris’s gaze, the ease of Han’s presence, the way you’re suddenly caught between them.

Chris raises an eyebrow, slow and deliberate, before turning to you. "A second date, huh?"

Han, seemingly unbothered, strides right up to you and places the coffee in your hand. "Figured you’d need the energy for today’s test." Then, he glances at Chris, tilting his head. "Oh, hey, man. You her boss or something?"

Chris doesn’t blink. "Or something."

You clear your throat, shifting slightly as you take the coffee Han hands you. “Chris, this is Han Jisung. He’s a participant for the product test.”

Chris’s gaze flicks over to Han, assessing him with a cool, unreadable expression. “Is that so?”

Han, completely unfazed, grins. “Yep. Here to lend a helping hand… or, well, something else.”

You nearly choke on your coffee. Chris, on the other hand, merely exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he looks back at you. “You sure know how to pick them.”

You glare at him, then turn back to Han. “And Han, this is Chris Bang. He’s the product manager overseeing my research.”

Han hums, giving Chris a once-over before offering a lopsided smile. “Nice to meet you, man.”

Chris, still watching him closely, finally nods and shakes his hand. “Likewise.”

There’s a beat of silence, the air thick with an odd mix of curiosity and challenge, and you’re already regretting having them in the same room together.

Han is the first to break it, turning back to you with a bright expression. “So, where are we doing this? Should I start getting undressed, or—?”

Chris chokes on absolutely nothing. You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling sharply through your nose.

“Han,” you say, forcing yourself to keep your voice level, “we are not doing that now.”

“Right, right, interview first. Got it,” Han says, completely unbothered. He pulls out a chair and sits down, legs spread comfortably apart as he takes a sip of his coffee. “I’m all yours, then.”

Chris’s jaw ticks. You don’t miss the way his fingers twitch slightly against the counter.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Chris, do you need anything else?”

Chris finally tears his gaze away from Han, looking at you with a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “No, I think I’ve seen enough.”

He pushes off the counter and straightens his jacket. “I’ll leave you to your… work.”

You purse your lips as he heads for the door. But just before stepping out, he pauses, glancing back over his shoulder. His eyes meet yours, holding them for a moment too long.

Then, with a knowing smirk, he simply says, “Enjoy.”

And with that, he’s gone. You exhale a long air, shoulders sagging.

Han whistles lowly. “Your boss has a real intense vibe, huh?”

You shoot him a look. “Just drink your coffee.”

Han grins. “Yes, ma’am.”

And with that, you steel yourself for what’s to come. Because if that tension was any indication… things are about to get a lot more complicated.

You lead Han down the hall to the testing room, the fluorescent lights humming softly overhead. He follows beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, exuding an easy confidence that makes it clear he’s enjoying this just a little too much.

“So, what’s the plan?” Han asks, throwing you a playful glance. “Are we finally getting to the hands-on part?”

You quietly sigh but keep walking. “First, we need to take your measurements.”

He stops in his tracks, then dramatically places a hand over his chest. “Wow. You don’t even take me out to dinner first?”

You sigh, pushing open the door to the testing room and gesturing for him to step inside. “Get in, please.”

The room is sterile and professional, with a small examination table and a set of measurement tools neatly arranged on the counter. You walk over to your clipboard, flipping through the necessary paperwork.

Han looks around, then smirks. “So, what’s next? Do I need to, uh… strip down?”

“Not completely,” you pull a folded medical gown from the drawer and hand it to Han. “Here, put this on,” you instruct. “I’ll step out to give you some privacy.”

Han takes the gown but doesn’t move right away. Instead, he gives you an amused look. “Privacy? Didn’t we just establish that you’ll be seeing all of me anyway?”

You glare at him, crossing your arms. “Just put it on, Han.”

He chuckles but doesn’t argue, and you step outside, closing the door behind you.

You take a deep breath, already bracing yourself for whatever antics he’s going to pull. After waiting a reasonable amount of time, you knock before re-entering. And of course—he’s standing there, completely naked.

Your eyes widen for a split second before you whip your head up to meet his gaze. “Han!”

He grins, making absolutely no effort to cover himself. “What? You said you needed to take measurements, right?”

Your grip tightens around your clipboard. “I also gave you a gown for a reason.”

He shrugs. “Figured we’d just cut to the chase. Efficiency and all that.”

You exhale sharply, willing yourself to stay professional. He really is the type to do things as he pleases so you may as well just do things his way.

"Fine," you mutter. "Let's just get this over with."

Han’s grin stretches wider, clearly pleased that you’re going along with it. “See? Now we’re talking.”

As much as you try to stay professional, it’s impossible not to notice just how well-built Han is. His broad shoulders taper down into a dainty waist, his physique lean yet toned, the kind that suggests he takes care of himself but doesn’t overdo it. His skin is smooth, save for the ink that decorates his body—tattoos etched along his shoulder and ribcage, the dark lines contrasting against his complexion.

You swallow, quickly refocusing on your task, but the thought lingers—he is right to be this confident. He has every reason to be.

Han catches the flicker of your gaze, his smirk deepening. “Like what you see?”

You scoff, refusing to meet his eyes. “I’m just doing my job.”

He hums, clearly enjoying himself. “Sure, sure. But if you ever want to look a little longer, I won’t mind.”

You shake your head, trying to suppress the heat rising to your cheeks. “Just stay still, Han.”

You shift your focus on the task at hand. Professional. You need to stay professional. You put on latex gloves and grab your measuring tape before kneeling slightly to get the proper angles, avoiding looking anywhere unnecessary.

As you begin taking measurements, you comment, “You seem pretty confident about all this.”

Han smirks, raising his arms and folding them behind his head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You put the end of the measuring tape against his pubic bon and gently lift length for a good measurement in its flaccid state. You glance up at him, arching an eyebrow. “Most people would at least be a little nervous. This isn’t exactly an everyday situation.”

He chuckles. “I’m not most people.”

You shake your head, suppressing a laugh. “Clearly.”

Han watches as you put the measuring tape around his cock to measure his girth, his gaze amused and curious. "What about you? You nervous?"

You scoff, keeping your attention on the measurements. "Why would I be?"

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. "Well, you are taking measurements of a very naked, very handsome man."

You snort at that but decide not to answer him, you get up to jot down the numbers on the clipboard. Once you finish, you keep your tone as professional as possible as you inform the next step. "I need to take your measurements when you're fully erect."

Han raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing. "Oh? And how exactly do you suggest I do that?"

You blink at him, already regretting your choice of words. "That's… up to you," you say, quickly looking away.

He tilts his head, watching you with amusement. "You could help me, you know." His voice is playful, but the way he watches for your reaction tells you he's testing boundaries.

You refuse to take the bait, your expression carefully neutral. "There are some, uh, magazines in that drawer if you need them. And you can use the office tablet to… browse whatever helps."

Han’s grin widens as he leans slightly forward. "Oh? Thoughtful setup. Did you pick the selection yourself?"

You roll your eyes, refusing to let him get under your skin. "Just do what you need to do."

Han chuckles, stretching his arms above his head, utterly unbothered by his nakedness. "You sure you don’t want to stay? Might be more efficient with some assistance."

You give him a sharp look before turning toward the door. "I’ll give you a moment."

As you walk out, you hear him laughing behind you. "Just saying... You’re missing out on a great show."

A few minutes pass before the door swings open, and Han leans against the frame, fully exposed, his usual playful smirk in place. And his cock is... well, fully erected.

“So,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “Erect enough for you?”

You scoff in disbelief despite the heat creeping up your neck. He’s obviously enjoying this way too much. Without a word, you grab your measuring tape and step back into the room, motioning for him to stand still.

Han watches you with amusement as you kneel slightly to take the measurements, his confidence completely unshaken. “I gotta say, I’m impressed by your professionalism,” he muses. “Most people would be flustered by now.”

You shoot him a look, jotting down the numbers on your clipboard. “I work in research. This is just another data point to me.”

Han chuckles, low and knowing. “Sure it is.”

You continue with the measurement, doing it all over again and noting down the numbers with practiced professionalism. Han watches you expectantly, his cocky smirk never fading.

“So?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement. “Are you impressed?”

You don’t respond, keeping your eyes on the clipboard as you jot down the details. But deep in your mind, a thought lingers— Chris is still bigger.

You push the thought away immediately. This isn’t about comparisons. This is research. Purely professional.

Clearing your throat, you straighten up. “Alright, we're done with the measurements,” you say, keeping your tone neutral.

Han grins, clearly entertained by your lack of reaction. “Didn’t expect you to be so shy,” he teases as he finally reaches for the gown.

“I’m not shy,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him.

You move on to the next part of the test. You grab a sample from the prototypes you brought with you, tearing the packet open and handing the condom to him.

“Go ahead and put it on,” you instruct, stepping back to give him space.

Han takes the condom with a smirk, rolling it over himself with ease. But as it stretches around his girth, you immediately notice the strain. He shifts slightly, adjusting it with his fingers, and then raises an eyebrow at you. “This one’s a little tight,” he comments, his usual playfulness still present despite the slight discomfort.

You nod, already anticipating this. You grab another packet—this one a size bigger—and hand it to him. “Try this one instead.”

Han takes it and swaps out the first condom, rolling the new one on. His smirk deepens as he glances down at himself. “Ah, now this one fits just right,” he says with satisfaction. He looks up at you with that same teasing glint in his eyes. “You’re really thorough with this, huh?”

You ignore his playful tone, jotting down your notes. “That concludes the test for today,” you say, stepping back. “You can put your clothes back on.”

Han stretches his arms over his head, taking his time before reaching for his clothes. “Gotta say, this was probably the most interesting appointment I’ve ever had,” he muses, giving you a wink.

You exhale sharply, shaking your head as you turn away to give him some privacy. Han Jisung was going to be a handful—you could already tell.

Back in your lab, you hand Han a sleek black box with your company’s logo printed on it. “Here,” you say, placing it in front of him. “These are the samples for you to test on your own time.”

Han picks up the box with interest, inspecting it before lifting the lid. Inside, neatly arranged, are multiple packets of condoms. His gaze flickers over them, and then he looks at you with an amused smirk. “You’ve got quite the range here,” he comments. “How many sizes are there?”

You cross your arms. “We only manufacture three: large, extra-large, and extra-extra-large.”

Han’s eyebrows lift. “Damn. So no small or medium?”

“No,” you reply simply. “Our target consumers are people who require larger sizes. We’re focusing on comfort and proper fit.”

Han hums in understanding before his lips quirk up again. “And what size am I?” he asks, voice dripping with curiosity.

You glance at your notes, already knowing the answer. “Based on my calculations, you fall into the extra-large category.”

Han nods approvingly, seemingly pleased. But then, with a mischievous tilt of his head, he asks, “Do you have a participant in the extra-extra-large category?”

Your fingers twitch slightly, but you maintain a composed expression, even as your mind immediately conjures an image of Chris. You refuse to let your face betray your thoughts. “That information is confidential,” you say smoothly, flipping through your notes. “Now, let’s focus on your test.”

Han watches you for a beat, as if trying to read between the lines, but then he lets it go with a shrug. “Alright, boss,” he says playfully. “So what kind of feedback do you need from me?”

You clear your throat and straighten your posture, regaining full professionalism. “You’ll need to test the condoms in various conditions,” you explain. “Comfort, durability, sensation—any issues you experience, I want you to document them in detail.”

Han’s smirk deepens. “In detail, huh?” He leans forward on the table, resting his chin on his hand. “So, if I have any… intense experiences, I need to let you know?”

You meet his gaze with a deadpan look. “Preferably without unnecessary embellishment.”

Han chuckles, sitting back. “Got it. No unnecessary details… unless you want them.”

You exhale sharply, deciding not to dignify that with a response. “Just be thorough,” you say, gathering your papers. “I expect a full report when you’re done.”

Han grins as he picks up the box again. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be very thorough.”

As soon as Han walks out of your lab, a familiar voice pipes up from the doorway.

“Well, well, well,” Jane hums, arms crossed as she leans against the doorframe, watching Han’s retreating figure disappear down the hall. She turns back to you, a knowing smirk stretching across her face. “That was… interesting.”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Don’t start.”

Jane strides in, plopping herself onto a stool across from you. “Oh, I’m definitely starting.” She tilts her head. “So… new participant?”

You glance at the door before nodding. “Yeah. Han Jisung. He’s, uh, testing the product now.”

Jane raises an eyebrow. “Testing the product, huh?” She leans in with a teasing grin. “That’s funny, because from where I was standing, it looked like he was testing you.”

You exhale sharply, shooting her a look. “He’s just flirtatious. That’s how he is.”

Jane clicks her tongue. “Mmm-hmm. And you’re totally unaffected?”

You pause, then shake your head. “I don’t have time for distractions. I need to focus on finalizing the product.”

Jane hums, still grinning. “Sure, sure. But you do realize he was flirting with you, right?”

You sigh. “Obviously.”

“And you were kind of flirting back.”

“I was not.”

Jane laughs. “Please. If that was you being professional, I’d hate to see what happens when you actually flirt with him.”

You rub your temples again. “This conversation is over.”

Jane just smirks. “Fine, fine. But I’ll be keeping an eye on this little situation. Purely for scientific curiosity, of course.”

You roll your eyes, waving her off. “Go do your own research.”

Jane chuckles as she stands. “Oh, don’t worry. I am. But this? This is way more fun to watch.”

As Jane disappears down the hall, her teasing words linger in your mind. You exhale, turning back to your work, but your fingers hesitate over your notes.

Was I really flirting back?

You replay the conversation with Han in your head—his easy confidence, the way he grinned at you, how effortlessly he turned every exchange into something playful. You had brushed it off, keeping your responses neutral, professional… or at least, you thought you had.

But if Jane noticed something—if she thought you were flirting back—did that mean Han thought so too?

You shake your head and mutter to yourself, “I was just doing my job.”

Still, as you force yourself to refocus, a nagging thought creeps in. What if everyone else thinks otherwise?

What if Chris thinks otherwise?

The morning feels heavier than usual as you step into the elevator, half-hoping for a quiet ride up. But when you look up, you see Chris standing there, hands tucked into his pockets, his expression calm and collected.

Your stomach tightens. You haven’t really spoken to him since Han walked in on you both in your lab. That moment still lingers in your mind—the way Chris had looked at you, how he had casually gone along with the introduction while Han had stood there, grinning like he knew something you didn’t.

Now, standing beside Chris in the enclosed space, you don’t know whether you should be the first to speak. The silence stretches between you, only filled by the soft hum of the elevator.

Then, Chris breaks it. “Are we still doing it?”

The bluntness of his words makes you stiffen, caught off guard. You glance at him, but his gaze remains on the elevator doors, as if this is just a casual inquiry.

You regain your composure and answer steadily, “As long as you still want to participate, then yes.”

Chris nods, but there’s something contemplative in his expression. “When’s the next test, then?”

“Whenever it’s convenient for you,” you say.

He doesn’t even hesitate before saying, “I have time this weekend.”

You nod, immediately agreeing, though you can’t ignore the way your heartbeat picks up. “Alright. This weekend, then.”

At that, Chris finally turns his head to look at you. There’s something unreadable in his eyes, like he wants to say something else—but then the elevator dings.

The doors slide open to your floor. You take a step forward, stealing a glance back at him. He’s still watching you.

Forcing yourself to keep it professional, you nod. “Have a good day.”

And then you step out, the doors sliding shut behind you, leaving Chris alone in the elevator.

You sit at your desk, staring blankly at your laptop screen, but your mind is far from your work. Instead, it’s replaying the interaction you had with Chris in the elevator earlier.

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary—just a simple conversation about the next test. So why are you overanalyzing every second of it?

Maybe it was the way he asked, a little too quickly, as if he was eager. Or maybe it was the way he turned to you, like he had something else to say but didn’t get the chance.

You shake your head, exhaling sharply. Get a grip.

Before you can spiral any further, the lab door bursts open, and Jane comes rushing in.

“We did it!” she exclaims, her voice a mix of excitement and disbelief.

Before you can even react, she throws her arms around you, squeezing you in a tight hug.

“My product got the green light!” she nearly screams, pulling back to grab your shoulders and shake you slightly. “Mass production is happening! This is real!”

Your brain catches up to her words, and a genuine smile spreads across your face. “Jane, that’s amazing! Congratulations!”

“I know, right?” She bounces on her heels, barely able to contain herself. “All those late nights, all that reformulation—it actually paid off!”

“I never doubted it for a second,” you tell her sincerely.

She grins, but then her eyes narrow slightly. “Wait, why do you look so calm? You should be freaking out with me!”

You chuckle. “I think you’re doing enough freaking out for both of us.”

She swats your arm playfully before sighing dramatically. “Ugh, I just—God, I can’t believe it. You’ll be next, you know.”

At that, your smile falters just slightly. The reminder of your own product’s pending status brings back the weight of your own stress. But you push it down, focusing on her excitement instead.

“I hope so,” you say lightly. “But for now, let’s just celebrate your win.”

Jane beams at you, still buzzing with energy. “Oh, we’re celebrating. Drinks after work. No excuses.”

You shake your head, amused. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The bar is lively, filled with laughter and conversation as Jane’s entire research team celebrates their success. You sit at the high-top table, nursing your drink while Jane recounts every stressful moment leading up to her product’s approval.

“I swear, I thought I was going to throw up when I opened the email,” she says, shaking her head dramatically.

“Honestly, I thought you did throw up,” one of her team members chimes in, making the group laugh.

You smile, but your mind isn’t entirely present. You’re still caught up in the events of the day—Chris in the elevator, the way he was looking at you like he had more to say, the way you overanalyzed it all afterward.

And just as if your thoughts summon him, the bar door opens, and in walks Chris.

Your body stiffens slightly at the sight of him. He scans the room, quickly spotting your table, and strides over. His presence is magnetic as always, his sleeves rolled up just enough to tease his forearms, and his signature easy grin already in place.

“Look who decided to join us!” Jane announces, nudging your arm. “I invited him since, you know, he is the product manager.”

You glance at her, noting the sly glint in her eyes. “Just that?” you ask, keeping your voice casual.

Jane feigns innocence. “Of course! What other reason would there be?”

You narrow your eyes at her, but before you can say anything, Chris pulls up a chair next to you, close enough that you catch the faint scent of his cologne.

“Hope I’m not too late,” he says, flagging down the waiter for a drink.

“Nope, we’re just getting started,” Jane assures him, shooting you a quick glance before turning back to her team.

You take a slow sip of your drink, trying to shake off the suspicion creeping up your spine. Because despite Jane’s nonchalant attitude, you can’t help but feel like there’s more to her invitation than just acknowledging Chris’s role as the product manager.

And by the way Chris is sitting comfortably beside you, his knee brushing against yours under the table the whole night, you get the feeling you’re right to be suspicious.

Jane, already a little tipsy, is in full celebration mode. She waves down the waiter and orders another round for everyone, grinning as she slides a fresh drink in front of you.

"Come on," she nudges you. "You have to keep up tonight."

You sigh but take a sip, knowing there's no point in arguing when Jane is in this mood.

The night continues with laughter and drinks, and one by one, the rest of Jane’s team heads to the dance floor, leaving just the three of you at the table. Jane is leaning back in her chair, lazily swirling the ice in her glass as she suddenly turns her attention to Chris.

"So, Product Manager Chris Bang," she drawls, tilting her head at him. "Why have you been calling her to your office so many times lately?"

Chris, mid-sip of his drink, pauses just slightly before setting his glass down. He glances at you briefly, amusement flickering in his eyes before turning back to Jane. "Work, obviously," he says smoothly.

Jane snorts. "Work? Really? You, the Chris Bang, personally following up on a single research project so often? I don’t buy it."

You shoot her a look. "Jane—"

"What? I’m just curious!" she says, throwing up her hands. "If you guys have, I don’t know, a thing going on, you could just tell me."

Chris lets out a soft chuckle, his fingers tapping against his glass. "A thing, huh?"

You glare at Jane, your heart hammering in your chest. She was not supposed to be this perceptive. "You do realize he's our boss, right?" you say, attempting to sound unimpressed.

"Uh-huh," Jane says, clearly unconvinced.

Chris leans back in his seat, casually stretching his arm over the back of your chair. "Sounds like someone's had too many drinks," he teases.

Jane narrows her eyes at him. "Sounds like someone's avoiding the question."

Chris smirks but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he picks up his glass, taking another slow sip.

You grip your drink a little tighter, trying to play it cool, but the way Chris is not denying anything, the way he’s just letting Jane speculate—it’s making you very aware of how close he is to you right now. And by the look in his eyes, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You quickly flag down the waiter again, determined to shift Jane’s attention away from whatever game she’s playing. “Another round?” you offer, plastering on your best innocent smile.

Jane’s eyes light up. “Now that’s the spirit!” She turns to Chris. “You better not let her drink alone.”

Chris chuckles, shaking his head as he lifts his glass. “I wouldn’t dare.”

It works. Jane gets caught up in the drinks and the celebration again, and for a while, the conversation drifts away from you and Chris.

Next thing you know, Jane is dragging you onto the dance floor. You’re buzzed, your body light, and for once, you let yourself just have fun. The music thrums through your veins, and you move with the crowd, letting the beat take over.

At some point, as you spin around, your eyes catch onto something—or rather, someone.

Chris is still seated at the table, leaning back comfortably with his drink in hand, but his eyes are on you. Watching. And when your gazes meet, he doesn’t look away.

A thrill runs through you. The alcohol in your system makes you bolder, more aware of the way his gaze lingers. You pretend not to notice at first, dancing as if he isn’t there, but deep down, you know you’re moving just a little more deliberately. A little more enticingly. And you like that he’s watching.

The moment stretches between you like a live wire, crackling with energy neither of you dares to name. And as if he can't stand being a mere watcher, Chris walks up to you. He steps in closer, pushed forward by the press of bodies around you, and instead of pulling away, he stays. The heat of his body radiates against yours, your breaths mingling in the dim, neon-lit haze of the bar.

You don’t speak, and neither does he—not at first. Instead, there’s only the exchange of glances, the slow drag of his eyes over you, the way your body naturally falls in sync with his. It’s almost too easy, too natural, the way he places a careful hand on your waist, guiding your movements subtly like he’s testing the waters.

And then, he leans in. His lips brush the shell of your ear, his voice low and rough. “I can’t wait for the weekend.”

The words send a pulse of heat through you. You smirk, just enough to make sure he sees it before you tilt your head toward him, lips grazing the edge of his jaw as you murmur back, “Why wait until the weekend?”

You feel his sharp inhale more than you hear it. His grip on your waist tightens, a reaction he doesn’t even try to hide.

“Why not do it tonight?” you continue, letting the words drip slow and deliberate between you.

Chris pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression unreadable at first—surprised, maybe, but something darker flickers beneath it. Something intrigued. He doesn’t answer right away. But he doesn’t say no, either.

The moment the words leave your lips, there’s no taking them back. You don’t give Chris time to react before you’re tugging him through the press of bodies, weaving past dancing figures and clusters of coworkers lost in conversation. You make a beeline for your table, snatching up your bag in one smooth motion, and beside it, Chris’s neatly folded jacket. He barely has time to slip it from your grasp before you’re leading him out of the bar and into the cool night air.

Chris follows without protest, though his brows are still knit in confusion, his lips slightly parted like he’s trying to piece together what just happened.

But instead of heading straight for the curb, he gently tugs at your wrist, steering you into the narrow alley beside the bar. The dim glow of a flickering streetlamp barely reaches the space, but it’s enough for you to see the way he’s watching you—like he’s trying to read between the lines, trying to make sure.

“You really want to do this tonight?” His voice is quiet but firm, searching.

You don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Chris exhales, rubbing the back of his neck as he studies you. “You’ve been drinking.”

“I’m not drunk,” you counter smoothly. “Just… mildly intoxicated.”

His brow lifts at that, still unconvinced. You step closer, meeting his gaze, letting your voice drop to something softer, something more deliberate. “You told me to relax, didn’t you?”

A muscle in his jaw ticks but you press on, your fingers brushing the lapels of his jacket. “Maybe now that I’m fully relaxed…” Your lips curl slightly as your voice dips lower. “I can take you well this time.”

For a moment, there’s only the hum of the city around you—the distant pulse of music from the bar, the faint rush of passing cars. Then his eyes darken, a spark of something untamed flickering through them. He doesn’t say a word.

Instead, his hands find your waist in one swift motion, pulling you flush against him. And before you can tease him for his sudden silence, he spins toward the street, lifting an arm to hail a taxi, his grip on you firm and unwavering.

As soon as the two of you are on the backseat of a taxi, Chris wastes no time draping his jacket over your lap. A gentlemanly gesture, if not for the sly curve of his lips and the glint in his eyes when he turns to you.

“Wouldn’t want you catching a cold,” he murmurs, voice smooth, deliberate.

You barely have a second to process the weight of his words before you feel it—his hand slipping beneath the fabric, fingers gliding under the hem of your skirt with ease. The moment his palm presses against your clothed heat, a sharp jolt runs through you.

Chris watches you, eyes trained on your face, amusement dancing in his expression as you press your lips together in a feeble attempt to stay composed. The driver hums along to the low music playing on the radio, oblivious to the way Chris’s fingers trace teasing circles over the dampening fabric between your thighs.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he muses, voice barely above a whisper, meant just for you.

You shoot him a sharp look, but it’s hard to glare when your body betrays you, hips subtly shifting toward his touch.

Chris’s smile deepens. “You seemed so eager back at the bar. What happened?”

You grip his wrist under the jacket, not pushing him away, but just holding on—something to ground yourself as his fingers apply more pressure right on your clothed clit. The sensation is maddening, just enough to tease but not nearly enough to satisfy.

The taxi slows at a red light, and Chris leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Don’t make me stop now.”

It’s a warning and a challenge all at once. You squeeze Chris’s wrist, nails digging into his skin, but he doesn’t stop—if anything, the pressure of his fingers against your clothed heat intensifies.

"Shh," he whispers, lips grazing your ear. "Don't get us caught."

Easier said than done. Your thighs clamp around his hand instinctively, but Chris simply chuckles, using the limited space to his advantage, his fingers stroking lazy, torturous circles over the damp fabric.

Your breathing stutters. Every little movement feels like fire licking at your skin, and the worst part? The driver is completely unaware.

Chris shifts closer, his voice dipping lower, a teasing lilt in his tone. "You were the one who didn’t want to wait until the weekend," he murmurs. "But now you're struggling to keep quiet? What happened to all that confidence?"

You want to glare at him, maybe throw back a snarky remark, but when he presses a little harder—just enough to send a jolt of pleasure up your spine—you have to bite down on your lip to stop the sound threatening to escape.

Chris watches you, completely enthralled, eyes dark with amusement and something deeper—something possessive. His free hand brushes your cheek before he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a gesture so tender it contrasts the sinful way his fingers are working you under the jacket.

"You’re trembling," he notes, and there's that damn smirk again.

The taxi slows, and your heart nearly stops as the driver glances at you both through the rearview mirror.

Chris finally—finally—pulls his hand away, taking his time smoothing down your skirt as if nothing had happened at all. Then he leans in one last time, lips a breath away from your ear as he whispers, "Hope you're ready for what's next."

The moment the hotel room door clicks shut behind you, the air shifts. Gone is the restraint from earlier, the teasing and subtle touches—now, it's thick with something heavier, more urgent.

Chris tosses his jacket onto a nearby chair before turning to face you. His gaze sweeps over your form, eyes dark, filled with an unspoken hunger that sends a shiver down your spine.

"You sure about this?" he asks, voice quieter now, less playful, but no less intense.

You step forward, closing the space between you. "I was the one who said not to wait," you remind him, your hands already reaching for the buttons of his shirt.

Chris exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head, but he doesn’t stop you. Instead, he lets his hands settle on your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress as if grounding himself. "You really don’t like being patient, do you?"

You let his question linger in the air, unanswered but your fingers make quick work of his buttons, parting his shirt to reveal the toned muscles beneath. He lets you take your time, watching you with hooded eyes, but the moment your hands graze over his bare skin, his control seems to snap.

In one swift motion, Chris grabs your wrist, spinning you around so your back is pressed against the door. His body is warm against yours, caging you in, his breath fanning across your face as he leans in.

"You have no idea what you just started," he murmurs before claiming your lips in a deep, searing kiss.

With his muscular arms wrapped around you, he can easily steer your body, dragging you with him toward the bed until he plops down on the end of the bed.

You settle onto Chris’s lap, your back flush against his chest as his arms wrap around you, holding you close. The warmth of his body seeps into yours, his breath fanning against the curve of your neck.

His lips find your skin, slow and deliberate, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder, trailing up to the sensitive spot just below your ear. A shiver rolls through you, and he must feel it because he chuckles, low and pleased.

"You always get like this when I touch you," he murmurs, his fingers finding the first button of your shirt.

You don't answer, just let him work, feeling each flick of his fingers as he undoes one button, then another, until the fabric parts. His hands slide beneath the material, palms warm against your bare skin, tracing along your sides before gliding up to your shoulders, easing the shirt off.

It slips down your arms and onto the bed, forgotten. Chris hums in approval, his hands wandering, exploring—one skimming down your thigh, the other greedily palming on your breast, holding you in place as he continues his slow, torturous kisses.

"You’re always so tense," he muses, his lips brushing your ear. "I think I like you better like this… relaxed, pliant."

His hands roam, touching everywhere except where you crave him most, teasing, testing your patience. You shift slightly in his lap, pressing closer, and his grip tightens just enough to remind you—he’s in control of the pace and he's going to take his time.

Chris lets his fingers wander lower, tracing the edge of your skirt where it rests against your thighs. His touch is slow and gentle, but there’s a tension in the way he exhales against your neck, like he’s barely holding himself back.

“You won’t be needing this,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping under the hem.

You lift your hips just enough to let him slide the fabric down, and he takes his time, inch by inch, until it pools at your feet. The cool air kisses your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his hands as they skim over your bare thighs, tracing soft patterns, teasing.

He shifts beneath you, pulling you even closer against his growing bulge, and you feel the unmistakable proof of his arousal pressing into you through his pants. The realization sends a shiver through you, one that he catches instantly.

“Still relaxed?” he teases, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

You don’t get a chance to answer before his fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear. He doesn’t rush—he takes his time, dragging the fabric down slowly, his knuckles grazing your skin as he goes. The anticipation coils low in your stomach, your breath catching as you finally feel the cool air against your bare skin.

Chris lets out a quiet groan, his hands splaying over your hips as he pulls you even closer, his lips finding the curve of your neck again. “Perfect,” he whispers against your skin, his voice laced with something deeper, something reverent.

His hands roam, exploring, teasing, while his lips trail soft, lingering kisses down your shoulder, across your spine. Every touch, every whisper, sends warmth flooding through you, leaving you bare in every possible way.

Chris chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as you grab his hand and guide it between your thighs. His fingers brush against your heat, and he inhales sharply, his grip tightening on your waist.

"Impatient, mmh?" he murmurs, his voice laced with amusement, though his fingers don’t move just yet. Instead, he lets them rest there, just enough pressure to tease but not enough to satisfy.

You shift slightly in his lap, pressing yourself against his hand, silently urging him to do something—anything—but he only smirks against your shoulder. "I like it when you ask nicely," he muses, his breath warm against your skin.

Your fingers tighten around his wrist, your body aching for more, but before you can say a word, he finally moves. A slow, deliberate stroke on your clit. Your breath catches, and he hums in approval, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear.

"That's better," he whispers, his fingers working you open with a practiced ease, pumping in and out of you.

Each movement is agonizingly slow, dragging out every sensation, as if he wants to take his time, to savor the way you react under his touch. His free hand grips your hip, keeping you steady as you try to press yourself closer, seeking more.

Chris chuckles again, his fingers curling slightly, finding that spot that makes you tremble. "That’s it," he coaxes, his voice low and dripping with satisfaction. "Let me feel you."

And as his touch grows more insistent, as his lips trail down your neck, whispering praises into your skin, you realize just how much control he has over you in this moment—and how easily you’re willing to let him have it.

He shifts, his hands firm yet gentle as he lays you down against the plush hotel bed. The warmth of his body lingers on your skin, and for a moment, you almost forget yourself in the haze of anticipation.

But before you can get lost in it completely, you murmur, "The condom… it's in my bag."

Chris hovers over you, his lips curving into a small smile before pressing a lingering kiss to your mouth. "Good thinking," he muses, his voice low, thick with desire. He pulls away, stepping back to retrieve the condom.

As he stands at the end of the bed, the warm glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows across his toned frame, you take a moment to admire him. His body—broad shoulders, sculpted abs, muscles flexing with each subtle movement—holds a raw, effortless allure.

Gosh, Chris is beautiful.

His brows furrow slightly in focus as he tears open the packet, rolling the condom down his length with practiced ease. The sight alone sends another wave of arousal through you, heat pooling deep in your stomach.

Chris catches you staring, his lips quirking into a smirk. "Like what you see?" he teases, his voice playful, but there’s a flicker of something darker in his gaze—something knowing.

You don’t answer, but the way you bite your lip gives you away.

Chris lets out a quiet chuckle, his eyes never leaving yours as he climbs back onto the bed, settling between your legs. "Let’s put it to the test, then," he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your lips before capturing them in another slow, searing kiss.

He kisses you deeply, his hands roaming over your bare skin as the two of you melt into the mattress. The heat between you is palpable, the slow press of his body against yours making every inch of you burn with anticipation. His lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, down the column of your throat, each kiss setting your nerves alight.

Then, he pulls back just enough to guide you onto your stomach before gently urging you onto your hands and knees. His touch is steady, reassuring.

"It’ll be easier this way," he murmurs against your shoulder, pressing soft kisses along your spine. "You won’t have to think too much. Just feel."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you nod, swallowing back the nervous tension that had been lingering before. The warmth of his mouth trails down your back, each kiss making you more pliant, more eager.

Then, without another word, Chris aligns himself behind you, his hands gripping your waist as he slowly pushes his length inside you.

Chris grips your waist with steady hands, his thumbs tracing soothing circles against your skin as he slowly pushes inside. The stretch is intense, and he catches the way your fingers grip the sheets, your breath hitching.

"Does it hurt?" he murmurs, his voice low and careful.

You swallow hard, your body adjusting to his size. "Just… put in more," you whisper, wanting to get past the ache, wanting to feel all of him.

Chris exhales through his nose, his grip tightening slightly before he pushes in deeper, inch by inch, with the utmost caution. You bite your lip, willing yourself to relax, but the deeper he goes, the more overwhelmed you feel. Your body tenses.

"Wait—stop," you gasp suddenly. "That's too deep."

Chris halts immediately, his hands sliding up to your hips, grounding you. You take a shaky breath before glancing over your shoulder. "Are you all in?"

Chris tilts his head down to see his cock is only halfway in, amusement flashing in his dark eyes. "Not even close," he says, lips quirking into a smirk.

Your eyes widen in disbelief, and a groan escapes you. "Fuck Chris! Why you have to be too big?" you mutter, frustration laced in your voice.

Chris chuckles, his hands smoothing over your skin in reassurance. "You’re cute when you’re like this," he teases, leaning over you. His breath fans against your cheek before he captures your lips in a deep, slow kiss, melting away your tension with each lingering touch.

He watches your expression closely, searching for any signs of discomfort, but when he sees the pleasure beginning to overtake the tension in your body, he pulls hid cock back slightly before thrusting into you again—deeper this time, but still careful.

A gasp leaves your lips, your body adjusting, the overwhelming stretch melting into something more intoxicating. The feeling of him inside you, filling you, sends waves of pleasure rippling through you. You grip the sheets beneath you, eyes fluttering shut as he finds a steady rhythm, each movement dragging bliss across your nerves.

Then it hits you—faster than you expected. Your body clenches around him, a moan slipping out as pleasure crashes through you. Chris immediately senses the shift, his hands gripping your waist tighter as he slows.

"Are you coming?" he asks, voice husky, his breath warm against your shoulder.

You nod, still trembling, your fingers twisting in the sheets.

"Do you want me to stop?" His voice is softer now, tinged with concern, but you shake your head frantically.

"No—" You exhale shakily. "It’s too good. Don’t stop."

Chris groans at your words, his hands sliding up your sides before pulling you back against him. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, murmuring something too quiet to catch before he picks up his pace again.

This time, there’s no hesitation—only the raw need between you as your bodies move in sync. The pleasure builds steadily, the tension coiling deep within you as Chris thrusts into you, each movement drawing you closer, each moan swallowed into his heated kisses.

And then, all at once, you fall apart around him, pleasure surging through you as your body tightens and trembles against him. Chris follows soon after, a deep groan spilling from his lips as he reaches his own high, his arms locking around you as you both shudder through the overwhelming release.

For a moment, neither of you move, only the sound of heavy breathing filling the space. Then Chris presses a lingering kiss against the back of your neck, his grip on you loosening but still firm, as if he’s reluctant to let you go.

Chris slowly pulls out, his touch gentle as if he knows you’re still sensitive. A shiver runs through you at the loss of him, and you collapse onto the bed, catching your breath as you watch him.

Standing at the edge of the bed, Chris carefully rolls the condom off, inspecting it for a moment before tying it off and discarding it. It’s hard not to notice the way it’s stretched, the amount of his seed inside it making your stomach flip. He doesn’t say anything, just walks toward the bathroom, his bare form disappearing inside as you lay there, trying to process everything.

The distant sound of running water fills the room, and as your heartbeat slows, a strange clarity settles over you. You feel yourself sobering up—not enough to regret anything, but enough to realize the weight of the moment.

When Chris returns, wiping his hands dry with a small towel, he catches your gaze and smirks. “You look like you’re thinking too hard.”

You shake your head, pushing yourself up slightly. “I was just going to ask…” You hesitate, but then decide to just say it. “What do you think of the condom’s performance?”

For a second, Chris just stares at you—then he chuckles, running a hand through his messy hair. “Of course you’d get right back to work.” He exhales through his nose, his smirk softening as he joins you on the bed. “Well, it held up. No breakage, no slipping, even after how intense that was.” He gives you a pointed look, making heat creep up your neck.

You clear your throat. “That’s good.”

Chris hums, leaning back against the pillows. “Though I think you might need to test it a few more times before you finalize your product. Just to be sure.”

You roll your eyes, but the small smile on your lips betrays you. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Chris lets out a small sigh, stretching his arms before settling more comfortably against the pillows. “Since we both have work tomorrow, maybe we should stop talking about work and just get some rest.”

You nod, realizing how heavy your limbs feel now that the rush of everything has passed. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

There’s a brief silence, just the sound of your breathing filling the dimly lit room. Then, Chris shifts slightly beside you. “Hey…” His voice is softer now, almost hesitant. “Is it okay if I cuddle you?”

Your breath catches slightly at the unexpected question. Of all things, you weren’t expecting him to ask that. But before you can even think about it, you find yourself nodding.

Chris doesn’t hesitate once he gets the answer he wants. He moves in closer, his warm, bare body pressing against your back as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into him. The heat of his skin is comforting, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back oddly soothing.

You let out a quiet breath, melting into the warmth of him. His hand rests lightly against your stomach, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles there. Neither of you say anything, and you don’t need to. Slowly but surely, you feel your body relaxing, your eyelids growing heavy.

As you settle into his warmth, your body fully relaxing against his, you feel Chris nuzzle slightly into the crook of your neck. His breath is steady, slow, comforting.

Just as your eyelids start to droop, you murmur, “Goodnight, Chris.”

His arm around your waist tightens just a little, and you hear the faintest hint of a smile in his voice as he whispers back, “Goodnight.”

The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the quiet comfort between you lull you into sleep, tangled together in a way that feels dangerously natural.

The pale morning sun casts a warm glow on Chris’s pale skin as he fixes the cuffs of his shirt beside you. The atmosphere is surprisingly comfortable despite everything that happened last night—though the occasional brush of his hand against yours or the way his gaze lingers on you a second too long reminds you of just how close you had been mere hours ago.

As you slip on your shoes, you break the silence. “If Jane asks about us, just say I got too drunk, and you took me home. Keep it simple.”

Chris pauses, smirking as he tilts his head at you. “That’s the best excuse you could come up with?”

You huff, crossing your arms. “It’s believable, isn’t it? Besides, you know how Jane gets.”

Chris chuckles, rolling up his sleeves as he steps closer. “Oh, I do. Which is why I think she won’t buy it for a second.”

You shoot him a pointed look. “Chris.”

“Relax,” he grins, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I won’t say a word. Especially not to Jane.”

Satisfied, you exhale a small breath of relief, though his amusement at your paranoia doesn’t go unnoticed. As you both gather your belongings, preparing to leave the hotel, a thought lingers in the back of your mind—one that you refuse to entertain for too long. Because despite your best efforts to keep things professional, something between you and Chris has undeniably shifted.

You step into the office, keeping your head low as you make your way toward your lab, hoping to slip in unnoticed. But of course, Jane is already there, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, looking equally exhausted.

“You’re late,” she grumbles, squinting at you.

You let out a dramatic sigh. “I know. I feel like death.” You press a hand to your forehead for extra effect. “I’m seriously so hungover.”

Jane groans, rubbing her temples. “Tell me about it. I shouldn’t have ordered that last round.”

You nod quickly, going along with it. “Yeah, I think that’s what did me in too.”

Jane tilts her head, her suspicious gaze scanning you. “Wait… where did you even go after that? You disappeared.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you manage to keep your face neutral. “I got too drunk, and Chris helped me get home.”

Jane narrows her eyes. “Huh?”

You swallow, keeping your expression casual. “Yeah, he was just being nice. You know, since he’s my boss and all.”

For a moment, Jane doesn’t say anything, her eyes assessing you like she’s trying to catch you in a lie. But before she can press further, someone from her team calls her name from down the hall.

Jane groans, rubbing her face. “Ugh, I have a meeting with the production team. Can't believe they make me sit through this with a headache.”

You nod, putting on your best sympathetic look. “Good luck with that.”

She sighs and starts walking away, but not before casting one last glance at you. “This conversation isn’t over.”

You force a laugh as you watch her go, exhaling in relief once she’s out of sight. You got off the hook—for now.

You put on your lab coat first before starting any work. You grab your notebook from your bag and flipping through it when a familiar voice calls out from the doorway.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

You glance up to see Han leaning casually against the doorframe, holding two cups of coffee in one hand and a small white box in the other. His usual flirtatious grin is in place, his eyes glinting with mischief as he steps inside.

You exhale and put on a polite smile, already bracing yourself. “Good morning.”

He strides over and places the coffee and the box on your desk before pulling out a chair for himself. “I figured coffee alone wasn’t enough, so I brought cheesecake. Thought I’d spoil my favorite researcher a little.”

You raise a brow. “Bribing me now?”

He smirks. “If it works, then yeah.”

You sigh but can’t help the small smile forming on your lips as you open the box, revealing a neatly sliced cheesecake with a drizzle of caramel on top. It looks dangerously good.

“Alright,” you say, picking up one of the coffee cups. “I’ll accept it. But only because I skimped on breakfast.”

Han chuckles, watching as you take a small forkful of the dessert. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You shake your head at his antics before setting your fork down and flipping open your notes. “Let’s get to business.”

Han places a hand over his chest in mock offense. “You mean we’re not on a date?”

You snort and skip on answering him. “Now, let’s continue the interview.”

His grin widens, but he sits back, sipping his coffee. “Alright, boss. Fire away.”

You take a sip of a coffee first while getting the questions ready and pull out your notes. “Alright, let’s get into it. How’s the product testing going?”

Han hums, stirring his coffee lazily. “Not bad. Feels good, fits well. No complaints so far.”

You nod, jotting that down. “And how many have you used?”

Han pauses mid-sip, then lowers his cup with a smirk. “Why? Are you keeping score?”

You sigh. “Just answer the question, Han.”

He shrugs. “Out of the eight packs you gave me? I’ve only used two.”

Your pen stills on the paper. “Two? That’s it?”

Han leans forward slightly, his smirk deepening. “Yeah. I’m saving some.”

You frown. “Why?”

His eyes gleam with mischief. “For you, obviously.”

Your brain short-circuits for a moment before you let out an exasperated sigh. “Han—”

“I mean, it’d be unfair if I was the only one testing it, right?” he says smoothly, resting his chin on his hand as he watches you with amusement. “Wouldn’t you want firsthand experience?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “This is a professional study.”

He chuckles. “Sure, sure. But the offer stands.”

You shake your head, refusing to indulge him any further. “Moving on. Did you experience any discomfort?”

Han grins. “None at all. Though I wouldn’t mind testing the durability a bit more.”

You glare at him. “Stick to the questionnaire.”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave. For now.”

You sigh, writing down his responses, pretending that your face isn’t heating up from his teasing. Despite it, you manage to finish all the questions you have for him. You glance at your notes, ensuring you’ve covered everything.

“Alright, I think that’s all for today,” you say, capping your pen. “I’ll see you next week for the final interview.”

Han leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, lips curving into a smirk. “That’s it?”

You raise a brow and put on a small smile. “That’s it.”

He lets out a dramatic sigh. “Come on, we can’t end our third date like this.”

You roll your eyes as you remark once again. “It’s not a date.”

He tilts his head, feigning innocence. “I brought you coffee and cheesecake, didn’t I?”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can, the lab door swings open, and Jane strides in. She stops abruptly, her eyes darting between you and Han, taking in the way he’s leaning in just a little too close, the amused glint in his eyes, and the way you’re trying very hard not to look flustered.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asks, crossing her arms.

You straighten up instantly. “Nope. Just finishing up his interview.”

Han, completely unbothered, flashes her a charming smile. “Oh, hey. You must be Jane.”

Jane narrows her eyes at him before shifting her gaze back to you, suspicion evident. “So… what exactly were you two talking about?”

Han grins. “Just planning our next date.”

You groan. “Han.”

Jane’s eyes widen in intrigue, a slow smirk forming on her lips. “Oh? Is that so?”

You shoot Han a warning look, but he just winks at you before standing up and grabbing his coffee. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it,” he says smoothly. “See you next week.”

Jane doesn’t let Han’s exit stop her. Instead, she steps further into the lab and plops down in the chair across from you. “So,” she drawls, “third date, huh?”

You rub your temples. “Don’t encourage him.”

But Jane ignores you, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she turns toward the door Han just walked through. “Hey, Han!” she calls out.

He peeks his head back in, coffee in hand, looking amused. “Miss me already?”

Jane smirks and reaches into her bag, pulling out a sleek black invitation. “Why don't you come to the launch party for my product this Friday night? It’s going to be fancy, lots of people from the company, free drinks. Since you’re so keen on taking my friend on dates, why don’t you make this your fourth?”

Han raises a brow, glancing at you. “A formal date, huh?” He grins, looking back at Jane. “I like the way you think.”

You sigh, knowing there’s no way out of this now.

Han walks over and takes the invitation from Jane’s hand, flicking it between his fingers as he gives you a look filled with playful intent. “Guess it’s true what they say,” he muses. “Love finds a way.”

You groan. Jane cackles. And Han? Han just winks before strolling out of the lab, leaving you to wonder how exactly you ended up in this mess.

Friday night arrives, and the venue is buzzing with energy. The event hall is decorated with elegant lights, the clinking of glasses and soft hum of music filling the air. The launch party is in full swing, employees mingling with industry professionals, celebrating her achievement. You arrive dressed appropriately for the occasion, nursing a glass of champagne as you navigate through conversations.

As soon as you spot Jane across the room, you make your way through the crowd, champagne flute in hand. She’s in the middle of a conversation with a few colleagues, but when she sees you, her face lights up with excitement.

“There she is!” Jane exclaims, excusing herself from the group to pull you into a quick but tight hug. “You made it!”

You laugh at her enthusiasm. “Of course, I did! There was no way I’d miss your big night.”

Jane pulls back, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Can you believe it? After all the late nights, the revisions, the stress—it’s finally happening. The product is officially launched!”

You smile, genuinely happy for her. “And you deserve every bit of this. You worked your ass off for this moment.”

She lets out a dramatic sigh, pressing a hand to her chest. “I really did, didn’t I? God, I need more champagne.”

You chuckle and clink your glass against hers. “To your hard work paying off.”

Jane grins. “To both of us. Your product is next, you know.”

You shake your head, sipping your drink. “One step at a time.”

“Psh, please,” Jane scoffs. “You’re basically a genius in your field. It’s only a matter of time.”

Before you can argue, she suddenly gasps and grabs your arm. “Wait, wait—look who just walked in.”

You follow her gaze toward the entrance, and sure enough, Han is making his way through the crowd, dressed in a fitted suit that makes him look a little too good for your liking.

Jane smirks. “Guess you really did get yourself a date tonight.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no denying the way Han’s eyes find yours almost instantly, his lips curling into that all-too-familiar smirk.

Jane elbows you playfully. “I’ll leave you to it,” she teases before slipping back into the crowd, leaving you standing there as Han approaches.

Dressed in a well-fitted suit that makes him look effortlessly charming, he scans the room until his eyes land on you. A slow, knowing grin stretches across his lips as he approaches, hands in his pockets, confidence dripping from every step.

“Well, well,” Han drawls as he stops beside you. “You clean up nicely, professor.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no denying the way he looks—like trouble wrapped in an expensive suit.

“How’s the party?” he asks, leaning in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You take a sip of your champagne. “Just started. Jane’s thrilled.”

Han hums, glancing around before tilting his head at you. “And you? Having fun?”

Before you can answer, Jane appears out of nowhere, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and grinning between the two of you. “Oh, I knew you’d show up, Han.”

Han chuckles. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

You awkwardly wave toward the bar and ask, “Drinks?”

Han smirks and leans in just slightly, voice teasing. “Lead the way.”

You and Han sit at the bar, drinks in hand, the ambient chatter of the event fading into the background as he leans in slightly, that ever-present smirk tugging at his lips.

“So,” he starts, swirling his drink in his glass, “are product launches always this fancy, or is this just Jane’s excuse to throw a party?”

You chuckle, taking a sip of your champagne. “A little bit of both. But mostly, Jane loves a reason to celebrate.”

Han hums, resting his chin on his palm as he watches you. “And you? Do you like to celebrate?”

You quirk a brow. “Are you asking if I party?”

He shrugs, feigning innocence. “I’m just wondering if I’ll ever get to see you let loose. I bet you’d be fun after a few more drinks.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “This isn’t that kind of party.”

He grins. “Pity.” Then he lifts his glass toward you. “Still, I think this counts as a fourth date, don’t you?”

You roll your eyes but clink your glass against his anyway. “You’re really committed to this bit, huh?”

“I prefer to call it optimism,” he says smoothly, eyes glinting with mischief. “But if you want me to stop, you just have to say the word.”

You don’t say anything, and that only makes his smirk widen. Just as you’re about to respond, something—or rather, someone—catches your eye.

Across the room, standing near the entrance with a drink in hand, is Chris. He’s watching you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something in the way he’s standing, the slight tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flick from you to Han and back again.

For a brief moment, your heart stumbles in your chest. You take a slow sip of your drink, trying to shake the strange weight in your chest. It’s just Chris. It shouldn’t mean anything. And yet, you can’t help but steal another glance in his direction.

Han is still talking, still flashing that charming smile, completely unaware of the way your attention has drifted elsewhere.

“—so, I figured, if I’m already here, might as well make it worth my time, right?” He sets down his drink as he notices something on your face, "Can I just—"

Before you can even process it, his fingers are grazing your face, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. It’s a fleeting touch, gentle, but deliberate. His gaze lingers on yours, dark eyes full of something playful yet unreadable.

"There," Han mutters with a satisfed smile as he securely tucked it behind your ear.

You don’t have time to react—not properly—because just over Han’s shoulder, you see Chris. He’s moving now, weaving through the crowd, his expression as unreadable as before. There’s a certainty in his stride, a quiet intensity that makes your pulse quicken.

You know he’s coming straight for you. Panic flutters in your chest before you can stop it. “I need to use the restroom,” you blurt out, pushing back from your seat.

Han blinks in surprise, his hand falling away as you stand abruptly. “Oh? Uh—”

You don’t let him finish, flashing him a quick, apologetic smile before turning on your heel. You don’t look back.

Inside the restroom, you grip the edge of the sink, taking a steadying breath. The cool marble soothes your fingertips, but it does nothing to calm the rapid thud of your heartbeat. You left in such a rush. Why did you run?

Before you can even begin to sort through your own emotions, the door swings open. You tense, your eyes darting to the mirror—only to exhale in relief when you see Jane stepping in.

“Oh,” she says, her brows lifting slightly. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You force a chuckle, shaking your head. “You didn’t. Just… needed a moment.”

Jane leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with a knowing expression. “A moment away from Han?” she teases, tilting her head. “But you two looked pretty cozy out there.”

You feel your face warm. “It’s just conversation.”

“Uh-huh.” She hums, unconvinced. “Well, from where I was standing, it looked like he was about to kiss you.”

You sputter. “He was not—”

Jane waves a hand, cutting you off. “I’m just saying, I see the way he looks at you. And honestly?” She grins. “I don’t blame him.”

You try to roll your eyes, but it comes out weaker than intended.

Jane studies you for a beat longer, her expression softening. “But… that’s not why you ran, is it?”

You freeze for half a second too long.

Jane catches it immediately. Her grin fades, replaced by curiosity. “You got real nervous all of a sudden. Something—or someone—got you spooked?”

You swallow, forcing yourself to maintain a neutral expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jane narrows her eyes. “Uh-huh. You sure about that?”

You nod, maybe a little too quickly. Jane doesn’t press further. Not yet. But you know her well enough to realize she won’t drop it that easily.

Jane eyes you for another long moment before sighing and reaching into her small clutch. You watch as she rummages through it, her fingers brushing past a few cosmetic items before finally pulling out a small blister pack. She pops a single pill into her palm and hands it to you, then produces a half-full bottle of water like she knew this moment was coming.

“Here,” she says, offering both to you.

You hesitate, looking down at the pill in your hand. “What is it?”

Jane smirks, shaking the water bottle slightly to get you to take it. “Something to help you relax.”

You squint at her. “That’s not an answer.”

She laughs. “It’s nothing illegal, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just take it.”

You glance at the pill again. It’s small, pale pink. Harmless-looking. But then again, so are most things before they kick in. You look up at Jane, searching her face. “Is this how you handle your nerves?”

She grins. “No, I handle my nerves with tequila, but I figured you’d want something that won’t have you slurring your words in front of the hot-guy-with-extra-large-dick Han.”

You sigh, rolling the pill between your fingers. Maybe she’s right. Maybe you do need something to take the edge off. Your mind has been spiraling ever since you saw Chris watching you from across the room. Before you can second-guess yourself, you pop the pill into your mouth and take a sip of water, swallowing it down.

Jane watches you with a pleased expression. “Atta girl.”

You shoot her a wary look. “If I pass out in the middle of the party, I’m blaming you.”

She snickers. “Relax. It’s mild.” She leans in slightly. “Though, if I were you, I wouldn’t fight the feeling when it kicks in. Just let go and enjoy the night.”

You shake your head, but a small smile tugs at your lips. “You’re a bad influence, you know that?”

Jane winks and wickedly smile as she says, “I'm your only friend. You can't get rid of me.”

She gives you one last knowing smile before tucking her clutch under her arm. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it,” she says. “Just… breathe, okay?”

You nod, watching as she turns on her heel and exits the restroom, her heels clicking against the tile floor. Once she’s gone, you exhale slowly, leaning against the sink. The pill hasn’t kicked in yet, but you tell yourself that you’re already starting to feel lighter—whether it’s real or just in your head, you don’t know.

A minute passes before you decide to leave. You straighten your dress, smooth out any imaginary wrinkles, and push open the door.

The moment you step out, Han is there, leaning casually against the wall just outside the restroom. His eyes light up as he spots you.

“There you are,” he says, pushing off the wall. He immediately hands you a drink, grinning. “I figured you could use a refill.”

You take the glass from him automatically, looking at him curiously. “Were you waiting for me?”

Han shrugs, his smirk playful. “Maybe. Or maybe I just happened to be standing here, looking ridiculously handsome, at the right time.”

You shake your head, chuckling softly. “Of course.”

He watches you take a sip of your drink before stepping closer, tilting his head slightly. “You okay? You disappeared on me back there.”

You hesitate for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Just needed a breather.”

Han doesn’t question it. Instead, he simply smiles and gestures toward the party. “Well, now that you’re back, should we rejoin the fun? Or…” His gaze flickers with mischief. “Do you want to sneak out and do something more interesting?”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t deny it. As you take another sip of your drink, Han effortlessly falls into conversation again, keeping the mood light, as if he’s completely oblivious to the weight lingering in your chest.

As you and Han continue chatting, a strange warmth spreads through your body—not just from the alcohol, but something deeper, heavier. Your skin feels hot, your heartbeat a little too fast, and the room starts to blur at the edges.

You shift on your feet, suddenly restless, and Han notices immediately. “Hey,” he says, reaching out to steady you. “You okay?”

“I just…” You swallow, trying to gather your thoughts. “I think I need some air.”

Without hesitation, Han takes your wrist gently. “Come on,” he says, leading you through the crowd. He navigates the party effortlessly, guiding you toward the balcony doors. The second you step outside, the cool night air rushes over you, making you sigh in relief.

Han watches you closely, concern flickering in his eyes. “Better?”

You nod, but the sensation in your body hasn’t entirely faded. There’s still this strange warmth, this unshakable feeling of being unmoored. You try to focus on Han’s voice as he talks, but his words blur together, fading into the background like static.

Before you even think it through, you murmur, “Can I just… lean against you for a bit?”

Han blinks in surprise, but his reaction is immediate. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Of course.”

He opens his arms slightly, and without another word, you step into his space, resting your head against his chest. His arms come around you naturally, holding you steady, and you melt into his warmth, snug against him.

For a moment, the world quiets. The sounds of the party fade into the background, replaced by the steady rise and fall of Han’s breathing.

“Comfortable?” he asks, his voice low.

You hum in response, your body finally relaxing. You’re not sure if it’s the pill, the drinks, or just sheer exhaustion, but right now, wrapped in Han’s arms, you don’t want to think about anything else.

A slow, melting warmth seeps into your body, and suddenly, it isn’t enough just to rest against Han. You need more—you need to be closer, to feel his warmth completely surrounding you. Without thinking, you shift, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

The scent of him—clean and subtly spiced—fills your senses, and you inhale deeply, a content sigh escaping your lips. Han stills for a moment, then exhales a soft chuckle, his hand instinctively running down your back in a slow, comforting motion.

“You’re really making yourself at home, huh?” he teases, his voice lower, more amused.

But you don’t respond. You just press closer, your head tilting up slightly. Han tilts his head down at the same time, and before you realize what’s happening, your eyes meet—so close, too close.

There’s a moment, a charged silence between you, a breath suspended in time. You can feel it—the pull, the inevitability of it. You’re not sure who leans in first, but suddenly, his lips are just a whisper away from yours, the warmth of his breath fanning over your skin—

And then, abruptly, the moment shatters.

A firm grip wraps around your wrist, yanking you back before your lips can touch. You barely have time to register the shock on Han’s face before you’re being pulled away, your body stumbling into a familiar, solid frame. Chris.

His grip is unrelenting, his body tense as he physically separates you from Han. “We’re leaving,” he says, voice clipped, leaving no room for argument.

You blink up at him, dazed, trying to process the sudden shift. “What—?”

Han straightens, his expression shifting from surprise to something more unreadable. “Dude, what the hell?”

Chris doesn’t answer. He just tightens his grip on your wrist, his jaw ticking. “She’s done here.”

Han’s eyes flick between you and Chris, and then he takes a deliberate step forward, his playful demeanor gone. “She can decide that for herself.”

You can feel the tension crackling in the air between them, thick and suffocating. Your mind is still hazy, your body still burning with lingering heat, but Chris’s grip is grounding—firm, possessive.

For a second, you’re torn. But Chris doesn’t give you a choice. He tugs at your wrist again, his voice dropping lower, quieter. “Let’s go.”

And somehow, even in your dazed state, you find yourself moving, following his lead.

Chris keeps a firm arm around you as you stumble slightly inside the elevator, his grip steadying you. His jaw is tight, his lips pressed into a hard line as he watches you from the corner of his eye. The tension in the small, enclosed space is suffocating.

"You really need to learn your limits," he mutters, voice low but laced with frustration. "Drinking that much? Letting that guy all over you?" He exhales sharply, shaking his head. "You're lucky I was there."

You barely register his words, your body still buzzing, your mind clouded. You feel too warm, too restless. By the time he leads you outside and into the cool night air, you feel like you’re burning from the inside out. He opens the car door for you, his other hand resting on your back to guide you in, but you don’t move. You just stand there, staring at him, your breath coming in short, uneven exhales.

Chris sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "Come on, get in."

"I'm not drunk," you murmur.

Chris lets out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Sure, you’re not."

His dismissiveness makes something snap inside you. Before he can react, you grab the front of his shirt, yanking him down to your level, and press your lips hard against his.

He freezes. His entire body stiffening. For a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe. And then, just as suddenly as you kissed him, you pull away.

Chris stares at you, his eyes wide, lips slightly parted. "What—?"

"I'm not drunk," you repeat, your voice steadier now. "But Jane—" you swallow, your body trembling with heat, "—I think she gave me one of her aphrodisiac pills."

Chris blinks. His expression shifts from confusion to disbelief. "You’re kidding."

You shake your head, but it's hard to focus when all you can think about is the way his body feels pressed against yours, the way his lips felt under yours just now—warm, firm, perfect.

"Chris," you whisper, stepping closer, your fingers fisting his shirt again. You tilt your head up, your eyes dark and needy. "I want you."

Chris swallows hard, his hands hovering near your waist but not quite touching. "You don’t know what you’re saying."

"I do." Your voice drops lower, your lips grazing his jaw. "I want you. I want you... all over me."

Chris lets out a shaky breath, his fingers tightening on your hips. His restraint is palpable, his whole body tensed like a wire about to snap.

You tilt your head back, looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "So… how about we do another test tonight?"

Chris exhales sharply, his hands gripping your arms as if grounding himself. "No," he says, his voice strained. "Not like this."

You blink up at him, your body pulsing with need. "Why not?" Your voice comes out in a frustrated whisper, your fingers tightening around his shirt.

"Because you're not yourself right now," he mutters, jaw clenched. "I’m not taking advantage of you."

"Told you I'm not drunk. I—I'm just so horny," You admit with a shy chuckle. Getting no response from him, you huff, pushing him away with a frustrated groan. "Fine," you bite out. "Then I'll find someone who will."

Chris’s eyes darken instantly. "What?"

"If you won’t help me," you say, turning on your heel, "The hot-guy-with-extra-large-dick Han will."

You don’t make it two steps before Chris’s hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you back with enough force that you collide into his chest. You gasp, but before you can utter another word, his lips crash against yours.

The kiss is punishing—hot, deep, desperate. His hands grip your waist, pressing you firmly against him, his body heat consuming you. His lips move fiercely against yours, and you melt into him, moaning against his mouth.

When he finally pulls back, his breath is ragged, his forehead resting against yours. His grip on you tightens as he growls against your lips, "Get in the fucking car."

Your knees feel weak, your body humming in anticipation. His tone is commanding, leaving no room for argument. Swallowing hard, you nod, breathless.

Chris releases a sharp breath, then, without another word, opens the car door for you. This time, you get in.

Chris barely gets the door closed before your hands are on him again, tugging at his jacket, desperate to feel him. He groans against your lips, backing you toward the bed as his fingers work hastily to unbutton your dress.

"You're impatient tonight," he mutters, his voice rough with desire.

"You have no idea," you breathe, yanking his shirt up and over his head. Your hands roam his bare chest, nails scraping lightly down his toned abdomen.

Chris lets out a sharp breath, gripping the fabric of your dress and pulling it down your arms, letting it pool at your feet. His eyes darken as they rake over your body. "You're unreal," he murmurs, his hands roaming your curves, fingers tracing the thin lace of your underwear.

Your hands move to his belt, but he beats you to it, unfastening it in one swift motion before shoving his pants down. His mouth finds yours again, his kisses feverish, almost desperate. He lifts you effortlessly, guiding you onto the bed, his body pressing down against yours.

"Tell me what you need," he murmurs against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck, sending shivers through you.

"You," you whisper, tugging him even closer. "Now."

Chris shifts lower, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he trails kisses down your collarbone, his fingers tracing slow, teasing patterns along your inner thigh. His touch is light, deliberate, setting your nerves alight with anticipation.

"You’re already so worked up," he murmurs, his voice deep, laced with amusement as his fingers brush over the damp fabric of your underwear. His dark eyes flick up to meet yours, watching every little reaction, the way your breath catches, the way your fingers curl against the sheets.

He presses a single digit against you, just enough to feel the heat through the thin lace. "Tell me how bad you want it," he coaxes, but before you can answer, he pushes your underwear aside and slides a finger inside you, slow and deliberate.

A quiet gasp escapes your lips, and Chris smirks, drinking in the way your body tenses, the way your eyes flutter shut. "That good?" he muses, adding another finger, stretching you just right as he curls them slightly, hitting that spot that makes your hips jerk against his hand.

Your fingers dig into his bicep as he sets a steady rhythm, his thumb grazing against you in slow, lazy circles. "Look at you," he breathes, eyes fixated on your parted lips, the soft, involuntary moans slipping out with each movement. "So responsive..."

You bite your lip, barely able to keep yourself from begging for more, but he catches it, his pace shifting, pushing you right to the edge with expert precision. "Don’t hold back," he murmurs, his voice coaxing, hypnotic. "I want to see you fall apart."

Chris watches you unravel, your body trembling against his touch as waves of pleasure wash over you. His fingers never stop moving until you're spent, your breath ragged and uneven. He presses a deep kiss against your parted lips, swallowing the soft whimpers still escaping from you.

When he finally pulls away, you blink up at him, dazed, still reeling. But the hunger inside you hasn’t dulled—it’s only grown stronger. "More," you whisper, your fingers curling around his wrist, guiding his hand back to where you need him the most.

Chris chuckles, low and warm, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. "Greedy, mmh?" he teases, but his voice is thick with desire, betraying how much he wants this just as badly. He leans in, capturing your lips in another slow, lingering kiss before murmuring against your mouth, "I think it's safer if I put the condom on first."

He pushes himself up and gets off the bed, he goes to where your drop your bag on the floor, rummaging through your bag to find the box of condom inside and takes one before returning to bed.

Chris pauses, the condom packet crinkling between his fingers as his eyes land on you. You’re sprawled on the bed, legs spread apart, your fingers moving slowly over your clit while your gaze stays locked onto him. The heat between you both thickens, crackling in the space between you.

He exhales sharply, his grip loosening on the condom as he lets it drop onto the nightstand. His other hand slides down his toned abdomen, wrapping around himself, stroking lazily as he watches you. The way your breaths grow uneven, the way your body responds to the sight of him—it sends a dark thrill through him.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he murmurs, his voice husky, teasing. He gives himself a slow, deliberate stroke, his eyes darkening with something possessive. "Watching me while you touch yourself."

He doesn’t move toward you just yet. He wants to see how far you’ll take it, how much you crave him. And judging by the way your fingers move faster, your lips parting on a quiet gasp, he knows you want this just as badly as he does.

Chris continues watching, enthralled, as your body trembles and shudders under the pleasure you give yourself. Your breaths come out in soft, uneven pants, your fingers working you through your high while your eyes remain locked on him. The way you fall apart at the mere sight of him stroking himself—it sends a deep, possessive satisfaction coursing through him.

As your body relaxes from the waves of pleasure, Chris finally moves. He climbs onto the bed with effortless grace, settling beside you. His hand finds yours, his fingers curling around your wrist as he brings your trembling fingers to his lips.

Holding your gaze, he presses his mouth to your fingertips, his tongue flicking out to taste you. A low hum rumbles in his chest as he licks them clean, his eyes dark with something hungry, something dangerous. "So sweet," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "I could get addicted to this."

Chris keeps his heated gaze locked onto yours as he finally rolls the condom down his length. The way he handles himself—so sure, so in control—only fuels the fire burning inside you.

He reaches for your legs, his hands warm and firm as he lifts them, settling them against his chest. His lips find your calf first, pressing a lingering kiss there before trailing lower, his breath hot against your skin. His mouth finds your ankle next, planting another kiss there, unhurried, almost reverent, before he finally parts your legs just enough.

You feel the weight of him as he slips between, his thick length pressing against your cunt but not quite entering. Instead, he rocks his hips forward, the friction sending a slow, torturous pleasure through your core as he thrusts between the soft, slick heat of your thighs.

His grip tightens, holding your legs securely against him as he sets a steady rhythm, dragging his cock between your folds with each deliberate roll of his hips. The teasing sensation makes you ache, makes you crave more, but Chris doesn’t rush. He keeps his pace steady, his lips brushing over your ankle again as he murmurs, “You feel so good like this.”

Chris keeps his steady rhythm, his length gliding between your thighs, dragging against your swollen clit with every thrust. His grip on your legs tightens as he watches you, his eyes dark with hunger. The pressure, the friction—it’s all too much, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge of release.

Sensing it, Chris suddenly lets go of your legs, spreading them wide on either side of him. His hands find your hips, and before you can even process what’s happening, he pushes forward, sinking his length into your entrance in one smooth motion.

The sudden stretch, the overwhelming fullness, and the way he fills you—it all crashes over you at once. Your body tenses before unraveling, pleasure slamming through you as you come hard around him, your walls fluttering and squeezing him tight.

Chris groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he stills inside you, feeling every wave of your release. His lips part, eyes locked onto your blissed-out expression as he murmurs, “That’s it… just like that.”

He stills for a moment, letting you ride out the aftershocks of your climax before he starts moving again, his thrusts slow and steady. He watches the way your body takes him, stretching to accommodate his size, your breath hitching with each movement.

But then, as he pushes his cock deeper, you let out a sharp whine, your hands gripping his arms. “Chris… not too deep,” you whine.

He freezes immediately, concern flashing in his dark eyes. Without hesitation, he withdraws just enough to ease the pressure, his touch grounding. “Better?” he asks, voice low, restrained.

You nod, your muscles relaxing beneath him. Chris carefully thrusts back in, this time slower, more measured, watching for any signs of discomfort. But instead of pain, a moan slips past your lips, your body adjusting around him.

His lips curve into a smirk before he leans down, capturing your lips in a slow, searing kiss. “You feel so good around me,” he murmurs against your mouth, his voice thick with desire. He punctuates his words with another deep thrust, swallowing your moan as he kisses you again, his hands roaming, grounding you in the pleasure only he can give.

Chris moves with utmost care, his body pressing flush against yours as he fills you over and over again. His breath is warm against your skin, his lips tracing a path from your jaw down to your collarbone, lingering as if he wants to savor every inch of you.

You shudder beneath him, overwhelmed by the fullness, by the way he’s stretching you in a way no one else ever could. “Chris… touch me,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

A low growl rumbles in his chest as his hand glides between your soft mounds, he fondles on the ample flesh before pinching on your nipples, drawing out sounds from you that make his eyes darken with need. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “Oh, this body—So fucking perfect for me.”

He kisses down your throat, across your chest, taking each of your nipple into his mouth and sucking on it hard, his lips trailing over every place his hands explore. The possessiveness in his touch sends heat straight to your core. He cups your face, forcing you to look at him as he thrusts deeper. “No one fits you perfectly like I do,” he whispers against your lips before kissing you slow and deep. “Just me. You’re mine.”

And with the way your body tightens around him, surrendering completely, you know you’re his.

Chris entwines his fingers with yours, pressing your hands above your head, pinning you to the bed as he keeps moving inside you. His thrusts are deep, deliberate—like he wants to make sure you feel every inch of him, to make sure you know exactly who’s making you fall apart.

Your body tightens around him, your breaths coming in short, desperate gasps as the pleasure coils inside you, building to an unbearable peak. He watches you, his gaze dark and intense, his own breathing ragged as he chases his release alongside you.

"Let go," he whispers against your lips, his voice thick with need. "Come for me."

And you do—your entire body arching, trembling beneath him as waves of pleasure crash through you, pulling him along with you. His grip on your hands tightens as he groans, his movements becoming erratic before he finally buries himself deep inside you one last time, his release following yours.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, the warmth of his body still pressed against yours. Then, slowly, he loosens his hold on your hands, kissing each of your wrists before lowering himself to kiss your lips—soft this time, lingering, as if he doesn’t want to let go of this moment just yet.

The next moment, you find yourself lying on your side, exhaustion settling deep in your bones, your body still thrumming from the aftermath of pleasure. Your eyelids grow heavy, and just as you’re about to drift off, you feel the mattress dip behind you. Chris slips back into bed, his warmth immediately surrounding you, and without thinking, you instinctively snuggle against him.

Softly, you murmur his name, tilting your head slightly, searching for him in the dim glow of the room. He hears you—feels you—and before you can say anything more, his lips find yours. The kiss is slow, unhurried, a stark contrast to the intensity from earlier. You sigh against his mouth, guiding his arm around you, pressing his hand to your skin, silently asking for more.

His fingers trace gentle patterns along your arm, down your side, skimming over the curves of your body with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t push—just touches you like he’s memorizing every inch, grounding you in his presence.

The soothing rhythm of his touch, the steady rise and fall of his breathing behind you, lulls you into a peaceful haze. As you begin to slip into sleep, Chris presses one last kiss to the back of your shoulder, his hold tightening around you, as if silently telling you that he’s not going anywhere.

You feel yourself sinking deeper into sleep, wrapped in Chris’s warmth, his touch lingering on your skin like a quiet promise. His breathing is steady, soothing, his hand resting on your waist as if he doesn’t want to let go.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know this was supposed to be about the product test. About business. About work. But none of that seems to matter anymore.

All you can think about is him—how good he feels around you, how perfectly he fits against you, how easy it is to lose yourself in him. And for the first time, you don’t try to fight it. You just let yourself fall.

Monday morning arrives with a heavy weight pressing down on your shoulders. The upcoming presentation looms over you, and as you go through your notes, tweaking last-minute details, the stress slowly builds.

Your lab is unusually quiet, everyone focused on their own work, but the tension is unmistakable. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself when the door swings open, and in comes Jane, carrying a tray of coffee cups.

"Morning, everyone," she chirps, setting the tray down on the nearest counter. She picks up one cup and hands it to you personally. "Thought you could use this before your big presentation."

You take it gratefully, the warmth of the cup grounding you. "Thanks, Jane. I really need it."

She grins, tapping your shoulder playfully. "You're gonna do great. Don’t overthink it. Just go in there and show them why you’re the best at what you do."

Your team murmurs their agreement, offering you nods of encouragement. You exhale, feeling a little lighter. "Alright. Let’s do this."

You stand at the front of the conference room, the large screen behind you displaying your carefully crafted slides. Taking a steadying breath, you begin your presentation, guiding the board through the development, research, and testing phases of your product. You're clearly nervous but you also can't deny that there's this spark of excitement inside you from knowing that Chris is here.

Everything goes smoothly—until one of the executives leans forward and asks, "Have you completed the product testing?"

You hesitate for only a second before answering honestly. "Yes, my team and I have conducted tests with about 20 participants so far. The results have come in at approximately 82 percent, but those results show overwhelmingly positive outcomes for the product."

The room hums with murmurs as the board members exchange glances. Another executive asks, "Only 82 percent? Is there a reason why it hasn’t reached full completion?"

You nod, maintaining your composure. "Some participants haven't finished all phases of testing yet, and we're still gathering long-term feedback. However, the data we've collected so far strongly supports the product's effectiveness and market viability."

There’s a brief pause before one of the higher-ups speaks. "So, based on the current results, do you believe the product is ready for the next phase?"

Your grip tightens slightly on the remote in your hand. You briefly glance at Chris, looking calm and composed. Turning back to the board, you lift your chin and respond with confidence. "Yes, I do."

The board members exchange glances, some nodding in agreement while others seem uncertain. They begin discussing among themselves, weighing the potential risks and benefits of pushing the product into production with only 82 percent of the testing complete.

You listen intently, your fingers subtly gripping the edge of the table as you wait for their final say. But then, Chris—who has been mostly quiet throughout the presentation—clears his throat.

"As the product manager," he begins, leaning slightly forward with his hands clasped together on the table, "I believe this product shows great promise, but I also think it needs more time to fully develop as a whole before moving to production."

His words hit you like a sudden chill. You blink, barely concealing your surprise as you turn to look at him. Of all people, you thought he would support you, not slow things down.

"Why?" One of the executives asks, shifting their focus to Chris.

Chris exhales, maintaining a calm but firm demeanor. "While the test results are positive, we still have incomplete data. Rushing production without that final percentage could lead to unforeseen issues down the line. I suggest we allow more time for testing to ensure we’re delivering the best possible product."

The air in the room feels heavy, charged with an unexpected tension. You sit there, frozen, staring at Chris as his words settle over the table like a cold gust of wind.

Needs more time.

You blink, certain you misheard him. But as you scan the room, watching the board members nodding along to his words, reality sinks in. You expected hesitation from them, some pushback—but from Chris? The one person you thought would support you?

Your fingers tighten slightly against the smooth surface of the table as one of the executives speaks up. "Mr. Bang, the data so far shows overwhelmingly positive results. What concerns do you have specifically?"

Chris remains composed, his expression calm and professional. "While the initial findings are promising, we're still missing a full picture. An 82 percent completion rate isn’t enough. We need to ensure the product works consistently across all test cases. If we rush into production now and unforeseen issues arise, it could set us back significantly."

You swallow, your pulse quickening. His reasoning makes sense, but something about this doesn’t sit right with you.

"But," you interject, keeping your tone even, "our projections show that the product is already outperforming expectations. The test subjects' feedback has been overwhelmingly positive. We could work on final refinements even as we prepare for production."

Chris finally turns to you, and for a fleeting moment, something unreadable flickers in his gaze. "It's not just about projections. We need certainty. If we wait and refine the product further, we’ll have a stronger launch, with fewer risks."

You press your lips together, your stomach twisting. Why does it feel like he’s shutting this down?

The board members deliberate, murmuring among themselves before one of them speaks up. "We appreciate your work on this, but we agree with Mr. Bang’s recommendation. We need to be absolutely sure before we move forward. Continue testing. We’ll revisit this in a month."

A month.

You inhale slowly, forcing a composed nod. "Understood."

The meeting adjourns, chairs scraping against the floor as people gather their notes. You stay seated for a second longer, staring blankly at the screen where your presentation once was.

You remain seated as the board members file out, their decision echoing in your mind like a dull, unrelenting thud. The weight of it presses against your chest, but nothing feels heavier than the quiet betrayal sitting in the air between you and Chris.

You glance toward the door, catching sight of his retreating back as he exits the room without looking at you. No explanation. No acknowledgment. Nothing.

Your fingers clench around the edge of the table. Disbelief lingers in your bones, tightening around your ribs. You never expected him—of all people—to be the one to hold you back. To stand in the way of your work. Your progress.

He should have had your back. Shouldn’t he? But instead, he shut you down.

You force yourself to stand, smoothing down your blouse even as frustration simmers beneath your skin. You don’t know why Chris went against you today. You don’t know why he suddenly acted as though this wasn’t something worth pushing forward.

You exhale, shaking off the uneasy feeling creeping into your chest. Maybe he’s just being cautious. Maybe this really is just about the product.

Maybe.

✨ The third chapter of Cocky is available on my Patreon page. ✨

Please support my writings by kindly reblog, comment or consider tipping me on my ko-fi!

@svintsandghosts @abiaswreck @drhsthl @biribarabiribbaem @skz-streamer @biancaness @elizalabs3 @laylasbunbunny @kpopformylife @caitlyn98s @hann1bee @mamieishere @is2cb97 @marvelous-llama @bluenights1899 @sherryblossom @toplinehyunjin @hanjisbeloved @sunnyseungup @skz4lifer @stellasays45 @severeanxietyissues @imseungminsgf @silentreadersthings @army-stay-noel @rylea08 @simeonswhore @yubinism @devilsmatches @septicrebel @rairacha @ven-fic-recs @hyunjiinnnn @schniti-is-in-the-house @jisunglyricist @minh0scat @simplymoo @inlovewithstraykids @eastjonowhere @angstraykids @lenfilms @modesttiger @inniesfanblog @multi-fandommaniac @tirena1 @iknow-uknow-leeknow @thecutiepieme @nightmarenyxx @hanniebunch @hyvneluv

#stray kids smut #skz smut #bangchan smut #bangchan x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz fics #skz fanfics #kpop smut #kpop fics #kpop fanfics #seospicy smut #cocky series

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vampzity · 1 month ago

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ateez twitter links!

★ BONUS DAY: ATZ HYUNG LINE TWT LINKS ★

[ DISCLAIMER ]: the following links contain PORN which is only suitable for mature audiences!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+!! all links contain hetero content! some dont have any sound :’)

[warnings]: porn… duh!, spanking, fingering, jacking off, unprotected sex, ejaculation, anything else i missed

⭐️: author’s favorite

[ KIM HONGJOONG ]

be a good bunny: hongjoong loved calling you his little bunny— especially when you were good for him. he’d come home from work, sit you on his lap and let you grind your swollen cunt away as his hands kneaded your ass. he’d praise you for your sweet moans, for when you ran your clit just perfectly against his sensitive tip. he’d smack you enough to leave his hand print so that you knew you belonged to him and only him.

mere distraction: sometimes working on a deadline takes a toll and t was even more frustrating when you had no inspiration. you always made it a chore to drop off his dinner, but he needed to let out his hardships. you ride him with such joy, feeling his cock press against your cervix as he plays with your ass. he smacks it, squeezes it, anything he can do to ease his stress.

[ PARK SEONGHWA ]

⭐️ pillow princess: seonghwa adores everything about you. from the way you walk, to the way your face flushes red whenever he compliments you. but sometimes you drive him so nuts that he’s desperate to tear you apart. he practically offers himself to you— lets you grind your pretty pussy against his face as he drags his tongue against your slick. he especially loves it most when you squeeze his head with your thighs as you’re begging to cum. and when you do? don’t expect him to stop. he’s doing this for his own pleasure as well.

slow and steady: he was always so sensual when it came to sex. he’d gently pump himself into you, allowing you to get used to his size as his tip grazed against your sweet spot, teasing it beyond capacity. as much as he loved cumming inside of you, he loved seeing it drop down your soft skin. how pretty your pussy looked as his cum ran down your folds rather than spilled out of you. he would make sure every inch of him was inside you, forcing you to take his lanky size.

[ JEONG YUNHO ]

⭐️ such a tight fit: you loved yunho’s hands. they were so big, so veiny, and he knew they were your weakness. he also knew how well they stretched you out. whenever you were good for him, he’d promise to play with you. his long fingers would pound at your sweet spot, curling inside of you as he was rough with you. he admired how swollen your pussy was from you struggling to take them in. and god, you were so wet. he’d run his pads against your clit, your cunt glistening as you squirted onto his palm. even when you cum he’d keep going, he didn’t care how sensitive you were. you were his toy after all, so he’d keep playing with you.

i promise i’ll listen: if you thought being bad was gonna help you get your way, you’ve be gravely mistaken. now here you lay, your poor clit being abused as yunho refuses to let you cum. he starts off slow, speeding up his pace until you’re begging for more. then he stops, leaving you a sopping wet mess. maybe next time you’ll learn to stay in your place hm?

[ KANG YEOSANG ]

good boy: yeosang loved submitting to you. he’d let you do anything you wanted if it meant he got to cum. you’d make him sit there in front of you and force him to hold himself up as you stroke his needy cock. it throbbed uncontrollably in your hands as you ordered him not to cum onto your face— you didn’t want to ruin your makeup! he’d practically fold everytime you called him a good boy, even sweet boy would do him in. he was just so desperate to please you.

⭐️ desperate dog: despite yeosang being the more submissive one in your relationship, he fucked you like he’d never get the chance to again. he was rough, sloppy, he was so desperate to cum inside of you.. or on you, he didn’t care. he just wanted to feel your walls squeezing around his aching cock as he rammed himself into you, tapping your sweet spot with his leaking tip.

back to valentine’s masterlist

a/n: some videos i found were WILDINNN like somebody call the coochie police…? but overall this was fun to write for! if you guys are interested in more stuff like this i wouldn’t mind doing more in the future! :3

taglist: @scarfac3 @h4untedgrl @rvereri @jjongibears @yyaurii @hwasddeongbyeoli @joonezra @potentialgay @dollywoo @losrpark @motherseonghwa23 @inniesfanblog @stephanieeeyang @galaxy4489 @nickgurl4life @fangirljas929 @desirehorizon @channiesluvrclub @katsukis1wife @unbel1ve4ble @nopension @bbdeongi @sojuxxi @bbykaixx @felixleftchickennugget

★ comment to be added to the taglist or fill out the form here!

#—♡vampzity #—♡︎vamp’s valentines #—♡︎vamp’s hard hours #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez links #seonghwa x reader #hongjoong x reader #yeosang x reader #yunho x reader #ateez hyung line #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yeosang #ateez yunho #atiny #ateez atiny

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strnilolover · 15 days ago

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٠ ࣪⭑ scratch marks

warnings : slight mention of sex. chris’ back is fucked up. sending nudes. nothing else?

inspired by this photo

chris’ body stirred against his sheets—limbs stretching over his head as his one of his hands reached out to the side of the bed where you were at. but all that met his hand was the cold and empty space.

he groaned, peeking his eyes open, hoping to see you somewhere in the room. the light filtered in through his curtains, casting a glow over the room. it’s must’ve been what—noon already?

groggily, he reached for his phone that rested on his nightstand. his eyes blinking a few times to adjust to his screen as he unlocked it, noticing a message from you.

My Love • 10:45am

Good morning handsome. Had to leave early this morning and didn’t want to wake you, i’ll see you later? ❤️

he smiled, rubbing his free hand over his face as he mustered up the energy to drag himself out of bed. and eventually he did, pulling back the covers and swinging his legs over the edge as he stood.

his arms stretched up, trying to shake the sleep from his body. his muscles ached slightly—a reminder of what happened last night. yawning, he trudged to the bathroom, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair as he stepped through the door.

chris decided a shower would help him wake up, and sooth his aching muscles in his body. slowly, he turned to his shower—reaching in and turning the knob to the warm side, letting the water heat up as he went to grab a towel from his cabinet. but as he turned, his eyes caught the sight of his back and his eyes widened.

freezing mid turn, he looked at his skin. backing himself up closer to the mirror.

“holy shit.” he muttered to himself.

his back was a mess—red streaks ran down from his shoulders to the middle of his spine, some deeper than others, angry and raised against his tanned skin. he reached back, fingers ghosting over the marks, wincing slightly at the sensitivity.

damn. you really did a number on him.

amusement flickered in his expression as he turned slightly, angling his back toward the mirror. he reached into his sweatpants and grabbed his phone, quickly snapped a picture, and without even thinking twice, sent it to you.

Chris • 12:35pm

*1 image attached*

Didn’t realize you were tryna kill me last night.

I like it. A lot.

he barely had time to set his phone down before it vibrated with your reply. his screen lighting up as multiple messages rang through.

My Love • 12:36pm

CHRIS?!?

Omg did i do that? that looks like it hurts so bad.

i’m so sorry.

chris let out a laugh, shaking his head at your replies. he couldn’t explain why he liked the way his back looked—covered in marks from your nails. maybe it was because of the reminder, or maybe he liked the fact you marked him.

his fingers quickly moved across his keyboard, body leaning back to rest against the bathroom counter. the room beginning to steam from the warm water—he forgot he started the shower.

Chris • 12:36pm

That GOOD, actually.

Kinda wanna see what else you can do next time.

and he could practically feel your embarrassment through the screen—how your face was probably bright red, eyes wanting to dart away from your screen at what he said. the same thing you’d do even when you’re with him. which only made him grin harder.

setting his phone down for a moment, he stripped himself of his sweats and boxers. grabbing the clothing and tossing it into the hamper he had in the bathroom. his eyes scanning over his back once more at the sight—his cock starting to stiffen.

“fuck.” he breathed, reaching for his phone again and smirking to himself as he opened the camera app again. this time, angling it down. his hand wrapped around his hardening cock, giving it a slow pump before gripping the base.

Chris • 12:40pm

*1 image attached*

Get home soon, yeah?

a/n : why can’t i write things?? i have not had any motivation. also might have another au coming out.

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applecidersturniolo · 11 days ago

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forgot.

warnings: unprotected p and v

in which, fwb! matt “forgets” a condom.

“matt, you’re fucking kidding right?” you whimpered as you stared at the ceiling of your bedroom. matt groaned and patted around your bed, looking for something, anything, basically hoping that the latex would appear out of thin air.

“don’t you have some in your nightstand?” matt spoke putting his fitted hat backwards on his head, “we used the last one yesterday” you spoke softly. matt huffed, remembering that-that’s the whole reason he bought a whole new box after he left your place last night and where was it? sitting on his shelf, untouched.

“fuck.” matt cursed as he ran a hand over his face, though, he couldn’t help but smirk to himself, “y’know..you could jus’ let me hit it raw” matt spoke biting his bottom lip.

god, he was tempting. the knot in your stomach grew, usually at times like these you guys would just agree to get off on giving each other head but..you guys already did that, and both of your needs were still unsatisfied.

“ c’mon, sweetheart, jus’ lemme put it in, if you really don’t like it i’ll stop” matt spoke putting his hands up, as if to promise he will do whatever it takes to make you comfortable.

you sighed and slowly nod, “yeah?” matt smirked, “yeah.”

“fu-fuck! matt!” you moaned out, your back arched as matt’s big hands gripped your hips, the wet sounds of your pussy filled your quiet bedroom, “yeah? takin’ me so well, y/n.” matt praised.

your fingers gripped the white sheets, nose scrunching as you felt your climax teeter closer to the edge.

“gonna cum? i can tell.” matt moaned out as his pace became quicker. the overwhelming feeling of your slick walls sucking his bare member in was all too overwhelming. matt’s head fell back as he moaned out your name, you could feel his cock twitch inside you, signaling he was close as well.

“c-cum with me” you managed to choke out as your hands met matt’s shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh.

“where do y-“ “inside. cum inside me.” you intrupped, your mind was hazy, teeth clamped against your bottom lip. “you sure? you want me to fill you up? make you leak me out all night” matt’s mind filled with images of your pretty panties being stained with his cum, the fabric being soaked with your mixed arousals. “yes..yes matty please!” you pleaded. your eyebrows knitting together, legs straightening as you felt your limit up and coming, “go-gonna, fuck matt, i’m gonna-“

“do it. fuck! you’re so wet- let go f’me. cum, right now, baby” matt babbled, “best pussy i’ve ever had”

that’s all you needed to hear, your walls tightened around matt’s member as you both released.

heavy breaths filled the bedroom, you could feel matt’s cum leaking out of you, damping your thighs. matt ran his finger down your skin and shoved the liquid back in your aching cunt.

“such a good girl f’me” matt praised before kissing your forehead and laying next to you on the bed.

you glanced over at him and softly smiled, matt returned it and sighed, “should probably go..” matt mumbled. you simply nodded, matt got up and retrieved his boxers from the cold floor, slipping them on before his baggy jeans. as he buttoned up the denim and flatted out his pockets he couldn’t help but chuckle, he glanced at you, who was looking at your phone mindlessly, not thinking twice. “hey, y/n..” matt mumbled. you turned to matt, raising an eyebrow, “yeah?” you spoke softly. matt smirked and tussled with something in his pocket, pulling out the gold, unopened condom, that had been placed in his pocket the entire time. “found it.”

your eyes widened, “you knew?” you spoke putting your tounge in your cheek, blush creeping up on your cheeks. “maybe..maybe not..” matt spoke with the biggest grin on his face.

oh, you were gonna kill him.

A/N: ahhh!! first post about these two ‼️ hope you enjoy! if you have any requests or asks PLEASE FEEL FREE TO INBOX ME!!! i love you guys so bad 😛🫵🏼

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #fwb #matt sturniolo smut #unprotected sex #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo au

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smut-anarchy · 3 months ago

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Crybaby

Soft!Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some mild swears, nothing spicy... for now.

Summary: Every time Mattheo sees you cry and falls in love with you for it.

A/N: This is my first fic EVER! I was too excited to get it proof read by my bestie so all mistakes are my own. Check the tags at the end for a funny surprise.

Word Count: 7,300+ (Sorry, I went crazy)

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Mattheo had never been one of those who could be influenced by tears. With who his father was he learned very quickly as a child that tears equated to weakness, and weakness was never allowed.

Even at times where previous flings had sobbed after being tossed aside or cried for cuddles after sex, it didn’t move him. After all, he’d always made it clear that he wasn’t a romantic. He’d have his fun and move on, he never gave any indication that it would be more meaningful than that. Because of this he’d been called a “cold hearted bastard” more times than he could count.

Which is why the first time he saw you cry he swore something was wrong with him. Seeing your puffy, red cheeks, your quivering, plump bottom limp and wide, watery eyes he felt like someone sent a stinging hex right to his gut. Your eyes were trained right on a laughing Enzo.

Now it wasn’t completely uncommon for Enzo to make a girl cry. After all, he too would flirt his way into one of their classmates beds from time to time. Though Enzo prided himself on having a kind, prince-like persona publicly, so he kept all of his trysts and crying ex-lovers deeply hidden from public view. So it was unusual for Enzo to be seen with a crying girl in public, right in the middle of the hallway near the potions classroom.

The closer Mattheo got the clearer he could see that you had not actually cried yet. Your eyes were full of unshed tears, and by the look of your puffed up cheeks and bitten bottom lip you were clearly attempting not to cry. Oddly to him, this didn’t lessen the weird sensation in his stomach. It only made him slightly angry at his friend for a reason he couldn’t even name.

Your eyes flickered to him for a brief moment before settling back on a smiling Enzo.

“Fine,” you said in a defeated tone, “You win. You can borrow my notes for Transfiguration. But this is the last time Enzo!”

Enzo’s smile widened as he picked you up in an embrace and spun you around. Immediately your face brightened and your giggles echoed in the empty hallway.

“That’s my favorite Hufflepuff!” Enzo teased, ruffling your hair, “Next time just agree before you lose another bet and turn into a little crybaby.”

Your giggles turned into a playful pout, “Hey! You cheated! You have longer legs than I do! And the staircase moved on my way down! You’d cry too if you ran as much as I did and still lost.”

Enzo let out a chuckle and shook his head, “Well maybe don’t propose a race next time. It was your idea after all. I play quidditch love, there isn’t a world in which you win against me.”

“Whatever, I’ll win the next bet, you’ll see!”

You stuck your tongue out at Enzo and turned around, walking away from Enzo much more cheerfully than Mattheo expected for a girl whose eyes were bursting with tears when he walked into this hallway.

“In your dreams love!” Enzo called after you, earning a swift middle finger from behind your back. Mattheo stopped behind Enzo, pure confusion over witnessing the entire interaction between you two. The assumption that you were one of Enzo’s fangirls or jilted ex-lovers was clearly off the table, but he still couldn’t make sense of the welled up tears in your eyes.

“Girl trouble Enz?” Mattheo hummed, curiosity thoroughly peaked by you and the strange feelings you brought on.

Enzo, now aware that Mattheo had witnessed the entire exchange smirked, “Nah, nothing like that. She’s just fun to tease, is all.” And with that Enzo ducked into the Potions classroom, leaving Mattheo not entirely satisfied with the answer. Nonetheless, he brushed off his gut feelings and whatever thoughts swirled in his head. He likely wouldn’t have an opportunity to interact with you again, he and his friends never kept one girl around too long, even if she was entertaining.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he followed after Enzo to their table in class.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

When Mattheo entered the Slytherin common room after smoking in the Astronomy Tower he was not prepared to find you on the couch with Enzo, this time actually crying. Though you were also laughing hysterically because Enzo happened to be tickling your feet.

“How dare you! How dare you say I’m not your favorite Slytherin!” Enzo chided, gleeful smile on his face as he tickled the sock covered soles of your feet. He slowed to a stop, holding your ankles in his lap to keep you from escaping.

“I didn’t say you weren’t!” You giggled, voice breathless because of your laughter, “I said I don’t know the other Slytherins so I can’t pick a favorite!”

Enzo smirked, “Not good enough!”, and with that he resumed tickling your feet. Your laughter and squeals bouncing around the common room.

Mattheo couldn’t help but stare, he and the guys never brought girls to the dorms, and certainly never sat together in the common room. Your yellow skirt and robe were a beacon in the dark and cold that was the Slytherin common room, Salazar Slytherin himself would have a conniption if he saw a giggling Hufflepuff on the couch. And yet, there you were with Enzo, both laughing as if this was not peculiar at all.

“Say it! Say I’m your favorite!” Enzo demanded, his fingers still torturing the pads of your feet.

“Okay!” You laughed, “Enzo is my favorite Slytherin!” You were attempting to wiggle your ankles free from Enzo’s grasp and escape the tickling torture but Enzo kept an iron grip, not satisfied with your answer.

“And?”

“And I’ll always share my notes with him!” You squealed, completely out of breath from all the laughter. Enzo, seemingly satisfied with your answer finally released your feet, which you immediately tucked under your lap, still wheezing from laughter.

“Enzo,” you huffed, “You’re a spoiled brat, you know that?”

“You love it, crybaby.” Enzo winked. His head turned and noticed Mattheo staring at them, still trying to make sense of the scene before him. “Mattheo! Come here, meet my little Hufflepuff!”

Mattheo strode over and sat on the chair opposite to them, eyes flickering between the two of them. The addition of his presence made you seem more shy now, as if you were embarrassed to be caught with Enzo like this, you refused to make eye contact with him and your cheeks were a little blushed.

“Y/N this is Mattheo, Mattheo this is Y/N. She’s my transfiguration partner and the cutest girl in Hogwarts.”

Your blush seemed to bloom even redder from the compliment. But your eyes shyly made contact with him and a soft smile graced your face.

“Hi, ignore Enzo, he’s just trying to get into my good graces after tickle torturing me and making me tutor him for two hours.”

Mattheo muttered a low ‘hello’ and quietly trudged to his room, door slamming with much more force than he intended. His heart was pounding and he felt surge of envy towards Enzo.

Enzo was right, you were cute, and even though your face was streaked with laughter induced tears and wild hair from wiggling on the couch, Mattheo thought you looked adorable. He’d never thought that tears could be cute before, but there you were with a soft smile and bubbling laughter. These thoughts and feelings were all new to him, it made him feel suffocated and embarrassed, but he was Mattheo Riddle for Salazar’s Sake! Mattheo Riddle doesn’t run from anything, let alone cute girls. Yet he knew he couldn’t just sit there under your pretty gaze and risk making a fool of himself. Enzo would never let him live it down.

Outside in the common room he could hear you ask Enzo if you said something wrong. Now he felt like an asshole, of course you were too sweet to think he was the problem. Mattheo closed his eyes and flopped onto his bed. He could hear Enzo comfort you, saying ‘Mattheo’s just an ass’ and offering to walk you back to your dorm.

For whatever reason, hearing that made him sort of agitated. He wanted to walk you to your dorm, and he’d be his usual charming self and make you laugh and blush, then you’d direct your smile at him and maybe that’d make him feel better. Maybe he’d even kiss you, and that thought warmed him in a different way. Mattheo groaned, just thinking of kissing you burned his mind with other ideas, less innocent things with you, where your sweet, shy smile turned into something sultry and pleading, he could feel his dick harden and more thoughts bloomed, each one more tantalizing than the last.

Mattheo’s door opened and Enzo walked in with Theo following behind. Theo just looked at him, nodding casually before turning to his side of the room, but Enzo’s eyes were dancing with mischief, a Cheshire grin already etched into his face.

“Very smooth, Matty-boy.” Enzo teased.

Mattheo fixed him with a glare, he hated when anyone called him Matty. “Don’t call me that, and I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Enzo’s smile widened, eyes alight, “Oh no? You don’t want to talk about how cute, little Y/N said one sentence to you and you ran off?”

Theo’s head shot up at that, looking between his two dorm mates with mild interest. Theo always had an uncanny way of reading Mattheo, which right now really irked him since Enzo was stirring the pot.

“I didn’t run off, I’m tired.” Mattheo grumbled, “Why did you even bring her here? We don’t bring flings here.” He had a feeling there was no such relationship between you and Enzo, but he couldn’t help but try and fish for more information.

“You brought a girl here?” Theo asked incredulously, his interest now fully invested.

Enzo rolled his eyes, “She’s not a fling, we’re friends. We were doing homework together after we got kicked out of the library.”

“Didn’t seem like homework when you were tickling her.” Mattheo grumbled, the memory flashing in his mind with a new wave of annoyance.

“You were tickling a girl here?” Theo echoed.

“Jealous?” Enzo directed at Mattheo before he turned to Theo, “Theo, she’s a Hufflepuff and so much fun to mess with. It’s not like that.”

“So, you wouldn’t mind if I flirted with her?” Theo drawled. Mattheo’s head snapped to Theo, he could feel acid in his throat thinking of Theo flirting with you. Theo’s eyes were already on him, eyebrow quirked, his expression knowing. Mattheo glared back at him and turned away, he knew he shouldn’t care what Theo or Enzo did with you, but he did, and that pissed him off more.

Enzo laughed wholeheartedly, “Sure, but if you’re not serious she’ll sniff out your bullshit. When I first met her I flirted with her for her notes and she stepped on my foot so hard I had to go to Madam Pomfrey!”

Theo chuckled, “Alright, so she’s off limits then.”

“You’re fucking right she is. I actually do want to be friends with her, I don’t need you assholes scarring her for life with your flirting. It’s already going to be an uphill battle with how hellish Draco and Pansy can be.”

“So we’ll be seeing more of her?” Theo questioned, and for once Mattheo was glad for Theo’s inquisitive nature, the same question burning in his mind. He wanted to see more of Y/N, his mind flickering back to those not so innocent thoughts.

“Yeah, probably.” And with that, the conversation seemed to be over, Mattheo’s lack of talking not going unnoticed by his two friends. They shared a look, coming to the exact same seemingly impossible conclusion: Mattheo had a crush.

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Enzo’s casual affirmation was an understatement, as the next day he invited his Hufflepuff to sit with them in the Great Hall at breakfast. She was smiling up at Enzo when he brought her over, then turning her smile to all of them at the table. She shot Mattheo a shy smile and wave before settling between Enzo and Blaise.

Pansy and Draco both offering indifferent greetings before turning to each other and continuing their conversation. Theo, Blaise and you began an intense discussion about potions, Enzo offering a comment here and there while he ate breakfast. Mattheo could only look around at his friends in confusion, his group not known to be friendly with people outside of Slytherin, or even with others in Slytherin for that matter. Draco and Pansy being the worst of two but they barely even acknowledged you and continued what they were doing. Blaise and Theo were known to be standoffish and yet here they were joking with you about potions.

“They know her, dumbass.”

Mattheo’s eyes shot to Enzo across from him, his face looking smug. Everyone else was so wrapped up in their conversations they didn’t hear what Enzo had whispered.

“What?” Mattheo asked.

“You look confused,” Enzo clarified, stopping to take a bite of his Apple, “They all know her, she’s been in all of our classes since second year.”

Mattheo nodded in understanding, eyes flickering back to the sweet Hufflepuff, who had now drawn Pansy and Draco into the conversation, the five of them debating whether or not Professor Snape used shampoo. Her face was glowing with happiness, every time she laughed he could see the flutter of her full lashes. His mind echoed the strange desire to count each lash.

He liked her laughing. The two times he’d seen her teary he thought she’d been cute, the frustration tears from chasing Enzo and the tears from laughing too hard, it was easy to find her adorable, but seeing her carefree and laughing filled his chest with yearning, he wanted her light to shine on him, even just for a moment. Yes, he much preferred her like this, hopefully he wouldn’t have to see her cry for a long while.

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Mattheo didn’t know how many different ways someone could cry until he met you.

Now fully adopted into his friend group he’s seen you cry over something with each of his friends and it confused him. He always assumed crying meant a person felt sad, that there were no other reasons to cry. The first time he saw tears in your eyes he added exhaustion as an acceptable reason to cry. Then he added laughter after the common room tickle incident. He figured that’d be it.

Until he found you and Pansy swaddled in blankets in her room listening to a muggle artist named Olivia Rodrigo and eating ice cream. He’d only stopped by to return a book he borrowed from Pansy the week before, he knocked and the door cracked open and he saw your tear streaked face and Pansy huddled on the floor, her face was turned away from him but he heard her sniffles.

He fumbled out an explanation about the book and you accepted it from him with a small smile. After the door had closed he heard the music blast to full volume.

He’d never thought Pansy would ever cry, she’d always felt like such expressions were beneath her. He was also very much confused on why you were crying, which made him worried something had happened to both of you. It wasn’t until later that Theo and Enzo told him that Pansy and Luna had broken up and you had decided some girl time was much needed to “feel your feelings” and listen to sad songs.

He’d never considered sympathy crying, but there you were with Pansy, sharing her pain. He admired you for it, your kindness knowing no limits.

The next day Pansy threatened to cut off his dick if he ever told anyone he’d seen her cry, though he was honest and said he actually hadn’t seen anything, and she seemed comforted by that fact. After Pansy seemed to be lighter almost, and she became as protective of you as Enzo, which became clear after Adrian Pucey cornered you in the hallway to harass you for a date. Enzo broke his nose and Pansy sent a hex that had Adrian vomiting hair clumps for a week. Mattheo would deny it but he also paid Adrian a visit after the hex had worn off and threatened a whole lot worse than a broken nose and a gross hex if Adrian so much as breathed in your direction.

The lust Mattheo felt for you still burned but there was something else, something new to him. Something that made him want to comfort you and protect you, to have you look for him for safety. Now, he didn’t just want your body, he wanted your undivided attention.

Mattheo tried to brush off these thoughts. He was no romantic, you were too sweet and nice to get wrapped up in something with him. As soon as it ended, you’d be crushed and Pansy and Enzo would likely make him suffer for hurting you. He told himself he just felt this way because you were friends, and friends is what you’d have to stay to be safe from him.

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Quidditch hardly interested you, Mattheo found out. Occasionally you volunteered with Madam Pomfrey and you’d seen enough quidditch injures to give you too much anxiety to watch the game. So whenever he and the boys played you’d skip up to them with boxes of baked goods to wish them luck and left on your merry way to watch the infirmary so Madam Pomfrey could supervise the game.

Surprisingly, Draco had been won over through his stomach. His indifference morphed into a kind of bland acknowledgement until he’d gotten the first good luck treats of the season, then he became outright friendly towards you. But when he’d caught the snitch the first time that year you’d made the whole team a whole fleet of chocolate lava cakes and candied fruit. Draco had sworn all of it was for him but after that he had taken on a kind of pseudo-brother relationship with you.

Conversely, you and Blaise bonded over your distinguished and varied adoration of books, often times swapping between yourselves. Blaise alleged that you were the only one he could read around because you weren’t “a distracting idiot” like Enzo and Draco or “an eternal gossip” like Pansy, but Mattheo could see that Blaise just had a soft spot for you like everyone in the group. Every time they went to Hogsmeade together you and Blaise would peel off to Flourish and Blotts, always coming back with more books. Of course, Blaise being chivalrous meant you never carried your own books despite your protests. The more time they spent in Hogsmeade the longer your books would get passed around to be carried until they always landed in Mattheo’s hands. Though he didn’t mind because you would smile sweetly at him when they returned to Hogwarts and thanked him for carrying your books.

Yes, Draco and Blaise had become like brothers to you. So when Madam Pomfrey rushed them to the infirmary both bruised with multiple broken bones Mattheo had seen all the color drain from your face.

None of the team was allowed to be in the infirmary so the last thing he could see was your crushed expression and tears welling up in your eyes. Theo, Pansy, Enzo and him had paced outside the hallway until Madam Pomfrey had shooed them away to go rest, telling them they could visit in the morning.

Mattheo had hardly slept the entire night. His two friends unconscious and battered and your crestfallen face had haunted him. As soon as he could reasonably leave the dorm he rushed to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips upon seeing him, knowing he had not rested but allowed him to visit anyway, despite it still being too early.

Draco and Blaise laid in their beds, looking much better than when they’d arrived. Whatever Madam Pomfrey had given them was slowly repairing the bones and easing the bruising on their bodies, their sleeping faces looked peaceful so it was clear they weren’t in pain. In between the two of their beds was you, huddled into yourself on a chair.

Hearing Mattheo approach had made you lift your head from the floor. Your eyes were puffy from exhaustion, your usual bright smile gone and replaced by a mournful frown. You were wearing the same clothes from yesterday so he knew you’d stayed by their side all night and likely not slept.

He stood in front of you, not sure what to say and as he looked at you he saw fresh tears gather in your eyes and your lip was trembling. Before he could say anything you’d lept from the chair and wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly as silent sobs wracked your body.

Mattheo had never been hugged like this. He was fairly certain he’d never been hugged ever. But here you were, clinging to him and crying into his chest. His heart ached feeling your tears soak into his shirt, you couldn’t keep your sobs silent anymore, now fully weeping on him. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his head on top of yours.

He just held you as you bawled. Though this situation was less than ideal it felt good that he could be here for you, comforting you. Your body was enveloped in his and he was reminded how small you were, so fragile but so strong at the same time. He wondered how long you’d held yourself together before he got here. That thought made him embrace you tighter, at least he could be here for you now. He told himself he’d keep holding you until you were ready to let go.

Your sobs had turned into little whimpers and sniffles, but you didn’t let go of him. Your head stirred underneath him and he looked down at you, seeing you staring up at him. Your wide eyes glassy and cheeks red, dried tear tracks on your face. The word beautiful flashed through his mind, somehow no matter what you did you always managed to look perfect to him.

“T-thanks Matty,” you voice quivered, “Er, I mean Mattheo.” Your cheeks were already red from crying, though Mattheo desperately wanted to believe they got a little bit pinker.

“You can call me Matty.” His voice was somewhat hoarse and raspy from fatigue. Her lips quirked up slightly and then she sighed and closed her eyes.

She slowly unwrapped her arms from him and dropped them to her side, looking back at Draco and Blaise. His body felt empty and cold after you let go, he felt the urge to pull you back but stifled it, as exhaustion was currently winning over his body.

Mattheo looked around and saw a spare blanket and two pillows. He quickly grabbed them, dropping them on the floor between the two beds with his friends. He sat on the floor, with one pillow behind his head against the wall. He pat the spot next to him and down you came, sitting next to him with the other pillow behind your head. He spread the blanket over the two of you and your head came to rest against his shoulder. His eyes closed and then sleep claimed the both of you.

He woke up to a flick on his forehead. He was still propped up against the wall with you ully leaned against his body, still dozing. Draco stood in front of him, the obvious perpetrator of the flick against his head, he was changed out of the hospital clothing but had various bandages and wraps on his body. Blaise was next to him leaning against the hospital bed he’d been spent the night in in, displaying a similar number of bandages. Both of them wearing smirks on their faces aimed at Mattheo and the Hufflepuff curled against him.

“Cozy?” Draco teased.

Mattheo rolled his eyes with a smile, clearly his friends were alright if they were feeling up to making fun of him.

“She stayed here all night for you dopes and we were tired,” Mattheo grunted, “Clearly you’re both feeling better though.”

His friend’s teasing smirks fell and they looked guiltily at the sleeping girl.

“Y’know she’s going to fuss over us when she wakes up.” Blaise admitted, Draco nodded with a sigh.

“She’ll probably cry.” Draco sighed. Not one of the three boys were looking forward to seeing their friend cry.

“I’ve gotta start carrying around some tissues for her,” Mattheo blurted. Blaise and Draco laughed at that, nodding in agreement and joking the whole group should start carrying some.

The boys’ laughter stirred the Hufflepuff and she blinked her tired eyes open. At seeing Blaise and Draco awake and standing in front of her she shot right up, discarding the blanket on the floor.

“Blaise! Draco! Oh thank Merlin! How are you feeling? Are you supposed to be standing up? Do you need water? I’ll go get Madam Pomfrey to clean your bandages!” You rattled off, mind clearly spinning off with things to help the two injured Quidditch players. Luckily Blaise grabbed your hand, pulling you from your thoughts.

“We’re fine. Madam Pomfrey is letting us go today. We’re coming back everyday for the next week for the medicine and check ups.” Blaise seemed to sooth you with this, you nodded absentmindedly. Without your brain taking over you really looked at Draco and Blaise and, just as the boys predicted, you started shedding tears. You grabbed both boys and pulled them towards you, both giving you a half hug as you cried. Through your sobs you started babbling your relief about how they were both okay and making them promise to never have to come here half comatose they way they did.

In the span of a couple of hours your waterworks had turned from fear to relief and Mattheo was glad to see his friends being fussed over by someone so sweet and caring. Your tears were short lived, as Blaise and Draco did their best to make you smile. Your sniffling turned to giggles when Draco’s stomach made a loud gurgle and he moaned about being starving, in typical dramatic Malfoy fashion.

You had stepped away to thank Madam Pomfrey for allowing you to stay and taking care of your friends. Though the older woman swore it was her job to care for all students and softly chided you for sleeping on the floor even she seemed to fall victim to your charm, hurrying you out the infirmary and promising to see you next time you volunteered.

“Mr. Riddle, a word please.” Madam Pomfrey said before he could follow you, Draco and Blaise out the door. He nodded to his friends that he’d catch up with them, trying not to think too hard about your worried look.

“I do try not to meddle in my student’s affairs,” Madam Pomfrey started, “But my dear apprentice has been here since midday yesterday and hasn’t eaten anything or slept, aside from your two hour nap on the floor,” the older woman gave a quick glare, “so if you’d please make sure your girlfriend eats and goes straight to bed, I would greatly appreciate it.”

Mattheo nodded dumbstruck, a satisfied Madam Pomfrey led him out the door.

Girlfriend. Madam Pomfrey thought you and Mattheo were dating. Mattheo once found dating any one repulsive, but he thought about your sweet smiles and angelic laughter and suddenly the idea of dating was inviting, so long as he was dating you. And that was terrifying thought, Mattheo didn’t think himself boyfriend material, but the idea of seeing you date anyone else, or Merlin forbid one of his friends, made him nauseous. He conceded that maybe these feelings would fade after some time, after all, you didn’t give him any indication that you wanted to be more.

Taking Madam Pomfrey’s words seriously he met up with you, Blaise and Draco. After all four of you were fed he suggested they all get rest, Draco and Blaise didn’t argue, their exhaustion kicking in from their injuries, but you pouted, not wanting to go back to your own dorm alone. Mattheo wasn’t immune to your puppy dog eyes so he offered his own bed so you could be with everyone. Draco and Blaise shared a knowing look, but you beamed up at him and happily trotted along with them to their dorms.

Enzo and Theo were still sleeping, likely to be out until afternoon so as quietly as they could Blaise and Draco went to their own beds, passing out shortly after pulling their blankets around their bodies.

You shed your large yellow knit sweater and yawned, smiling sleepily at Mattheo. He smiled and tilted his head to his bed, offering it to the kindly Hufflepuff. After removing her shoes she slipped under the covers, he could tell she was struggling to stay awake.

“Are you coming to bed too?”

Her question made his neck feel hot, she looked at his innocently, eyes fluttering. If he got in that bed with her, he knew he’d never let go of whatever feelings were developing for her. He slowly shook his head, ready to lie to her and say he wasn’t tired, that he was going to go shower or study or literally anything other than get into his bed with her.

“Please Matty?” You pouted. Merlin, he was a goner. He sighed softly and slipped under the covers with you, trying to keep a respectful distance. This whole situation had his body burning and mind in overdrive. You smiled happily and let out a small giggle, wishing him goodnight and then allowing sleep to take you.

Truthfully, he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep. His mind and body kicked into chaos at the proximity of the beautiful Hufflepuff. But he was actually tired, and your soft snores helped him relax and he was able to fall asleep as well.

That sleep was short-lived, as he only slept for about two hours. When he woke up you were completely tucked into his body, still snoring, with his arms wrapped around you. Luckily, everyone else was still completely knocked out. Against his urges he detached himself from your cuddling, thanking whatever higher power that no one witnessed the intimate moment, and slipped into the bathroom for a cold shower to cool his fevered skin.

The next day, he went to Hogsmeade and picked up a single green handkerchief with a snake and his initials embroidered into the fabric. He’d never tell anyone but he always kept it in his pocket, just in case.

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Mattheo knew Theo didn’t care for his birthday, after his mother had passed his father became cruel and he never had another birthday. When Enzo had mentioned it in passing at dinner, Theo had told you himself he didn’t celebrate it.

Mattheo, now attuned to your expressions, saw a glimmer of sadness flickering behind your eyes, followed by a flash of determination. You hadn’t said much after that, but he saw the gears in your head turning.

A week later on Theo’s birthday Enzo had dashed into the common room, asking all of them to follow him to the Room of Requirement. The whole walk there was tense, Mattheo could tell by Theo’s expression that if it was a big party he was going to be pissed. You were mysteriously missing most of the week, or dashing away quickly so he assumed you had planned something, with Enzo’s help of course.

When they pushed into the room there was no party. Instead there were soft string lights hanging from the ceiling, a fire going in an intricate stone fireplace and a swirling emerald green carpet guiding them further into the room. Just a few steps further and there you were, covered in flour and wearing an apron with splashes of food stains. In front of you was a table with only seven seats set, a cacophony of steaming food on top.

Mattheo and his friends had their mouths agape, trying to take in the extravagance around them. They knew you loved to cook, having been on the receiving end of endless, delicious desserts. But never before had you cooked an actual feast for them. He looked to Theo, who was not looking at the lights or the fireplace or even the food, his deep gaze on you.

Mattheo saw a nervous smile take hold of your face and watched your hands tug on each other, clearly nervous about Theo’s reaction.

“Um… I made it,” you pushed out, “I remembered you said once you missed your Mom’s cooking so I made a bunch of Italian dishes. Y-your Mom probably made them better but I did my best. I even made Mostaccioli! I remember you said it was your favorite…” Your nervousness getting the better of you. No one said anything, all looking at Theo for his reaction.

Theo strode up to you, his face not showing anything, and he pulled you into a hug. Theo, who hated unnecessary touching, was hugging you. Mattheo even swore he heard Theo mumble “I love it.”

When your arms came around Theo’s broad back Mattheo got a glimpse of your face. Your eyes were closed, tears leaking out of the corners and a soft, peaceful smile on your face.

Mattheo didn’t know what to call these types of tears. It felt bigger than the other ones he’d seen. These tears felt sweet and sad at the same time, like you and Theo had a secret understanding. Looking at you and Theo embrace felt like a private, raw moment, but he couldn’t look away. He decided to deem these: bittersweet tears.

Theo let you go and you chuckled and wiped the sides of your eyes. You beamed at everyone and invited them to sit down and eat.

And as Mattheo sat down next to you, with a messy apron, covered in flour and a cheery grin on your face, Mattheo couldn’t help but think you more radiant than he’s ever seen you.

And even though Theo refused to share the Mostaccioli with any of them, it was easily the best meal of Mattheo’s life, love and attention baked into everything you made. His friends more carefree and happy than he’d ever seen them, laughing and joking.

When you left to get the cake you made that was cooling by the room’s kitchen area Theo leaned over to him and whispered, “If you don’t make a move soon, I’m going to marry that girl.” Mattheo froze like a deer in headlights, but Theo just grinned at him and sipped his champagne.

Mattheo tried to ignore Theo’s words but they sat heavy in his mind. Ever since he started carrying around a handkerchief for you, he barely even noticed other girls. He can’t even remember the last time he accepted a girl’s invite to her dorm. He only ever thought about you, and instead of fear and uncertainty now he only felt warmth and longing when he imagined you and him together. It surprised him how much he wanted all of it. He wanted to kiss you, to hold you, to have you laugh at his jokes, to smile at him, to worship you in any and every way you’d let him. The realization that he was completely smitten with you pierced through his whole body. Theo was right, you had to be his.

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Finding you alone was damn near impossible, Mattheo found out. If it wasn’t his own friends it was literally everyone else in the entire castle. Apparently your light touched everyone at Hogwarts, as every time he tried to get a moment to ask you on a date someone would appear and ruined the moment.

At first he didn’t mind. When the Weasley twins approached you with a new invention, something they called the Zinger Wing Giggle Ball you had been too excited to test it for them. Even Mattheo would admit a ball that flies around making teasing, sarcastic remarks and giggling was funny. Even more so when it scared the daylights out of Mrs. Norris and chased her all through the halls calling her “a dirty flobberworm with legs and a tail”. You, of course, had felt bad for Filch and his tattle-cat but even so, you couldn’t help but laugh along too.

Then there were the professors, Mattheo didn’t realize how much volunteering you did for everyone. Professor Sprout requesting your assistance with the odd plant in the greenhouse or Hagrid wanting you to come witness whatever mysterious beast he’d found that week and log their abilities. Even Snape, who never seemed to like any of his students, would approach you for helping him stock his precious ingredients closet. How you made time for anyone was beyond Mattheo, but he was determined still.

His friends seemed to be the worst of all, they seemed almost determined to not let him have a moment alone with you. No matter where he was with you at least one of them would appear. When he’d finally gotten tired of it he gathered them all and told them he was trying to ask you on a date, a real ’not Mattheo being a fuckboi’ date, by Pansy’s words, not his. Of course with who his friends were and how fiercely protective they were over you, they grilled him for over an hour about his intentions. When they were finally satisfied galleons passed around into Theo and Enzo’s hands. Those fuckers had placed bets amongst themselves on whether or not Mattheo would ever figure out his feelings and ask you out. If Mattheo wasn’t so annoyed he’d be a little touched that his two best friends had faith in him.

And now, here he was. There were no classes today, and almost everyone in the castle was at Hogsmeade. He knew you were somewhere, his friends confirming you weren’t coming that day and had chosen to stay behind. He’d looked for you everywhere, he had even bribed a younger year Hufflepuff with chocolate frogs to check if you were in your room. It felt like another day of failure for him. It was two hours before everyone would come back, he knew that it would be impossible to get you alone after that. He dragged his feet up to the astronomy tower, hoping to take a quick smoke to clear his head.

But he heard a familiar sniffle from the stairs. As quietly as he could he peaked out from the staircase and there he spotted your familiar tuft of hair and bright yellow knit sweater. He approached you, nerves bursting in his body until he felt his stomach drop. You were crying.

“What happened?” Mattheo questioned. His voice made you jump and when you looked at him, he saw your familiar puffy, red cheeks and watery wide eyes.

“Hi Matty,” you said softly, “Its nothing. Just something stupid.” You sniffled, trying to wipe your tears with the sleeve of your sweater. He pulled out his handkerchief from his pocket and passed it to you. You looked at him gratefully and accepted it, wiping your face with the soft, expensive fabric.

“You’d never cry for something stupid.” He corrected. He could remember every instance he’d seen you cry, nothing had ever been stupid about them. He sat next to you on the floor. You sighed, twisting your fingers nervously.

“Someone called me a Slytherin whore.”

Mattheo could have gotten whiplash with how fast his head snapped to you. Mattheo tried not to let his fury show. He really tried, knowing that his anger could potentially scare you.

“Who?”

“…Does it matter?”

“Who?”

“It’s not worth it.”

“Who?”

He didn’t mean to take a tone with you, but he was trying to figure out what asshole he was going to beat the shit out of. Then he’d let his friends have their turn.

“Adrian Pucey.”

That son of a bitch. That idiot couldn’t learn the first time. Screw the quidditch team, they’d find another chaser. When Mattheo was finished with him Pucey wouldn’t be able to go near a broom for at least six months.

“Is that what people think of me?”

Mattheo was so focused on his rage he didn’t even see you deflating at his side. As he looked at you he realized you weren’t just hurt by Pucey’s words, you believed them.

“No, no one believes that. No one with a brain anyway.” Mattheo assured you. He would cast his anger aside for now, you needed him more.

“I just-“ you groaned, holding your face in your hands, “I know I can be… clingy and a crybaby and maybe I do spend too much time with you guys, but I feel like you guys are my best friends and I like being around you guys and I feel like you guys like me around or maybe you just tolerate me but I feel like that shouldn’t make me a whore and I-“ Mattheo had let you babble long enough. He held your face in his hands and turned your head so you could look at him head on.

“Listen to me,” He demanded, “You are not a whore. Nothing you do or say could make you that. Understand?”

You nodded in his hands.

“We do like you being around because we like you. You aren’t clingy or a crybaby. Do you cry? Yes. Is it a perfectly normal reaction? Yes. You’ve made all of our lives better. Pansy has someone she actually likes to do girl stuff with. Draco knows someone outside of our fucked up group and his Mom cares about him. Theo had one of the best fucking birthdays of his life since his Mom died. All because of you! Don’t let some asshole that I’m going to punch in the teeth make you feel like you’re anything less than a ray of sunshine of every single life you touch.”

Mattheo hadn’t realized your hands were cupping his own. You were smiling at him, eyes watery, he wiped a stray tear off your cheek. Your glassy orbs flashed with vulnerability.

“What about you, Matty? Have I made your life better?”

“Better doesn’t even begin to describe what you’ve done to my life.”

More tears were flowing from your eyes but before Mattheo could wipe them away with his hands you threw yourself into his arms, toppling him over and kissed him.

Any thoughts in Mattheo’s head flew out the window as soon as your lips touched his. Your delicate fingers holding his face lovingly and your soft lips pressed against his own. He brought his hands up to your waist, lightly caressing the skin there that was exposed by your shirt and sweater riding up. The a flurry of peace flooded Mattheo’s body, it was as if his entire being was releasing a sigh of relief, a single thought echoed throughout his body: finally.

Unfortunately, youpulled away, your cheeks flushed. Mattheo was laying on the floor underneath you so you ended up right in his lap, which, looking from his point of view, was so fucking tempting.

“I’m going to marry the fuck out of you.”

Mattheo meant it but blurting it out had not been his intention, his brain still reeling from the kiss. Nonetheless, you giggled, airy and light like a tinkling bell.

“How about a date first, Matty?” You teased.

“It’s a start.” Mattheo sat up, pulling your legs tighter around his waist so he could pull you even closer to him. Your fingers started to entangle in his hair and he looked up at you, pure adoration in your eyes, “Do I get to call you mine now?”

“I’ve been yours Matty.”

He hummed happily, pulling your face down to kiss you again.

#and then pucey got his ass kicked #and then pansy tells everyone he's got a small dingaling #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #oneshot #slytherin boys #x reader #soft mattheo #mattheo fluff

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