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imaginedanvrs · 3 months ago

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ready or not, here we come

ghostface!wandanatcarol x reader

masterlist

word count: 5.3k

warnings: home invasion, death threats, knife play, cutting, some blood, slapping, stalking, begging, fingering, restraint, strap on sex (r receiving), anal, double penetration, triple penetration, overestimation, implied character death. lmk if i missed anything

It was pretty much a once in a lifetime moment for you to have the entire house to yourself, so you were more than prepared to take full advantage. Trouble was, there were too many options and only one night to fulfil as much as you could.

You could have brought someone home from your local bar to fool around with on whatever surface you pleased, though that meant being away from the house for a couple hours because your home was outside of town. You could have dug up your secret bag of weed in the back of your closet to smoke the house down, but if the potent smell still lingered when your parents strolled through the door the next day then you would be in deep shit. Maybe you should have just gotten off and made the most of not worrying about being too loud while enjoying your own company.

When you stepped into the lounge your eyes landed on the tv standing proudly at the front. Then again, maybe you could just watch your favourite horror films on the best quality screen in the house without anyone around to make noises of disgust at the kill scenes. Paired with the raw cookie dough your mum always scolded you for eating, it could be the perfect night.

You dashed upstairs and swiftly changed into your sleeping shorts and shirt, unaware of the heavy gaze that watched you strip. You practically lived in the middle of nowhere and had never really felt the need to close your blinds when you changed. Or even when you slept. It was a good area - quiet.

Just as your bare feet hit the downstairs landing, the phone rang through the hall. You considered ignoring it because whoever was on the other line certainly wasn’t going to be calling for you and from the sounds of it, half the people that your parents answered to were reps or scammers. Still, you were willing to bet the one phone call you didn’t answer was the one someone in the house was expecting but never mentioned.

“Hello?” You asked as you eyed the kitchen you were eager to get to.

“Hello?” A male voice came through.

“Yes?” You frowned, wanting to get on with your evening and not entertain whoever was giving up their own Friday night to call your house.

“Who is this?” The man asked.

“Who are you trying to reach?” You questioned back, maintaining your manners despite not being the least bit interested.

“What number is this?” He continued. Okay, you were done with this.

“Probably not the one you’re looking for,” you chuckled. “Goodnight,” you said and placed the phone back on the receiver without another word. You started back towards the kitchen when the phone rang behind you again.

Seriously?

You glanced back at the device, wondering if it was just playing up but after several tones you trudged back and picked it up. “Hello,” you answered.

“I’m sorry, I had the wrong number,” the man told you with a certain calmness you were supposed to be feeling while you devoured the sugary treat you were craving.

“So why’d you dial it again?”

“To apologise,” he said simply.

“You’re forgiven, goodnight,” you repeated but apparently the caller wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet.

“Wait, wait. Don’t hang up,” he insisted and you wondered briefly if he was as stoned as you could have been. He sounded it.

“What?”

“I wanna talk to you for a minute,” he said. You rolled your eyes, mildly amused by the caller’s unusual antics.

“There are other numbers for that, bye,” you informed lightly, pressing the phone down firmer than before. You strolled away and the silence remained.

The caller left your mind as soon as you began mixing together the ingredients you needed and left your house in a comfortable silence as you worked. Your hands worked absently, placing everything together until you were done. The moment you finished washing your hands, the phone rang again.

You huffed, picking up the device. “Hello?” You asked, patience clearly running out.

“Why don’t you wanna talk to me?” You weren’t surprised to hear his voice.

“Who is this?” You frowned as you gathered the bowl and a drink in your free hand.

“You tell me,” he replied, like he was such a smart ass. “You tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine,” he said playfully. You scoffed a little.

“I don’t think so,” you told him though you weren’t so quick to hang up this time, hoping that entertaining him for a bit longer would make him stop.

“What is that?” He asked instead when you placed the bowl down on the table.

“Just something to snack on while I watch a movie,” you explained absently as you retrieved your drink.

“What kind?”

“Just some scary movie,” you told him vaguely because you hadn’t decided on one yet.

“You like scary movies?” You smiled at the teasing manner he used whenever people were trying to scare their friends, willing to bet he was leading up to something.

“Uh huh.”

“What’s your favourite scary movie?” He asked and you grinned more.

“Halloween,” you recited at once. “I like the classics. What’s yours?”

“Guess.” You opened up Netflix on the tv to put the film on and saw a few horror titles on there to give you some inspiration. “No cheating,” he warned and you scoffed again.

“Nightmare on Elm Street,” you suggested. He merely chuckled.

“So, you got a boyfriend?” The mystery caller continued. You didn’t comment on the random change of topics as you ventured leisurely around your house double checking all of the locks before you got ready to hang up and settle down.

“No, why? Do you want to ask me out on a date?” You entertained further. It wasn’t like you were ever going to meet this guy.

“Maybe,” he chuckled. “You never did tell me your name?”

“Why do you wanna know my name?” You approached the front door with an excited spring in your step.

“Because I wanna know who I’m looking at.” You swallowed thickly with your hand on the handle of the door, feeling an icy cold drop in your chest as you stood perfectly still.

“What did you say?” You spoke slowly, turning the lock on the door without checking if it was already locked or not.

“I said I wanna know who I’m talking to,” he replied simply as you exhaled with forceful steadiness. You didn’t respond to him as you switched the porch light on and peered outside. “Hello?” Came the voice as you scanned the area the light cast onto. You found nothing and in a way that felt worse.

“Look, I gotta go,” you told him as you turned the porch light off, feeling the need to make it look as though there was no one in the house. Whoever was calling was probably just some bored teenager that wanted to scare you. Maybe they knew you from school and had heard you in passing mention your love for horror movies.

“You hang up on me and I’ll gut you like a fish,” he spat, shifting his tone entirely. “Understand?” You didn’t respond, too busy flickering your gaze over every window and door in your immediate vicinity. “Yeah.” You could hear the smile in the sick fucks voice as your hands began to shake.

“I wanna play a game with you,” he said. “Can you handle that?” There was a clear taunt to his voice as you approached the window closest to you and peered out into the pitch black. You remembered your science teacher making a comment about light being on one side of a window at night. Though you couldn’t make out a thing in the darkness, anyone on the other side of that glass could see you in your fearful entirety.

“Can you see me?”

“Listen, I am two seconds from calling the police,” you warned, entirely too aware of how unthreatening you appeared when your voice was shaking and tears were stuck in your throat.

“They’d never make it in time,” he told you.

“What do you want?” You whimpered, pacing through your home.

“To see what your insides look like.” You hung up the phone and frantically dialled the three numbers you needed when the doorbell rang. You stumbled backwards through the corridor to get to the other side of the house while your blurred eyes stayed glued to the front door.

“Leave me alone!” You screamed though it did nothing to warn off the trespasser because less than a second later a cloaked figure smashed through the glass door behind you. They shook off the glass and slight disorientation as you bolted out of the room, dropping the phone in your fright. You had never felt fear like it as you heard them run after you, heavy boots crunching on the glass they had shattered to reach you.

You had just enough time to unlock and open the front door as you heard the cloaked figure advance and for a brief second you had a spark of hope that if you just kept running, you would escape them. The last thing you had expected was to throw open the door and be faced with the same eerie ghost mask you hadn’t gotten the chance to see the other invader wear. You didn’t give it much thought though, because it was more than obvious that whoever was behind that mask was not someone that wanted to help you.

Miraculously, you dodged them both when they lunged for you, sprinting to your right with no real plan as to how you could escape them both while inside your home. Your blood was pumping as fast as the adrenaline struck every limb in your body, willing you to just move. You obeyed, running full force into the solid body that appeared out of nowhere.

You grunted and before you could fall down on your own, the third masked figure took hold of your shirt and threw you down to the hard floor behind them with ease. You hit the wooden floor hard, your ribs taking the full impact and aching in protest to the bend they endured. You ignored the ache that was dulled by the shock and scrambled to get to your feet and give yourself some fighting chance against the odds, but a military style boot pressed firmly into the centre of your back and held you in place. Your lungs screamed at the suppression but you were in no state to help.

“Please,” you cried out as you tried to reach behind you to scratch at any exposed skin you could find. “I have money,” you attempted to negotiate with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Aw, she has money,” one of them echoed. You recognised that haunting voice.

“You,” you whispered.

“Me,” the guy from the phone answered back.

“Look at all the effort I’ve gone to. Can I ask you out on a date now?” The others chuckled and you frowned at how similar they all sounded.

“I’ll do anything,” you told them, still struggling under their weight.

“Yes,” they said simply. “You will.” Suddenly, you were kicked onto your back and forced to gaze up at the three strangers before you. The first thing you noticed were the knives. They all held the same dagger that glistened threateningly under your home’s lights, itching to have their polished blade’s stained with whatever they desired to take from you.

“You’re going to be our first,” the one closest to you declared as they crouched down next to you and tilted their head, as though considering where to start.

“You should be honoured,” another told as they strolled around the perimeter of the room until they were in your blind spot. “You’re going to be the first one to feel our blades,” they whispered close to your ear and hauled you up by the hair so you were pressed firmly against their cloaked front and unable to squirm away when their menacing blade was pressed against your neck.

“So we thought we’d do something a little special for you.” Your desperate attempts to claw at the body behind you only served to amuse the other intruders whose cloaks were too thick for your nails even in your survival fueled strength.

“Please!” You begged again, unable to escape the coolness of the blade that was dangerously close to your jugular. It was futile to fight against one of them, never mind hope to get past the two that blocked both your exits.

“Please,” the one behind you mocked. “Please what?” They waited patiently for your answer as you stared at them in terror.

“Please don’t kill me,” you said quickly, knowing it wasn’t going to make a difference. “If you leave I won’t say anything. I don’t know who any of you are,” you reasoned. They looked between each other in silent communication before reaching for the ghost masks and pulling them swiftly from their heads.

What the fuck?

“What about now?” Wanda asked, a smirk gracing the features that you had always admired from afar. Next to her, Natasha’s gaze bore into yours, void of the clear excitement her girlfriend had and instead looking at you like one of her hunting trophies she had collected from far too young an age.

You couldn’t see her, but Carol’s unmistakable voice was by your side. “Now lets play that game.” Her lips ghosted over your neck just under your ear as she spoke and you felt the knife twitch with her impatience.

“So competitive,” Wanda chided but her smirk didn’t waver. Natasha remained silent as she watched you.

“We’ll give you a five second head start to run,” Carol told you as she reluctantly moved her knife away and shoved you forwards. The pair in front of you stepped aside to create a clear path to the opened front door.

“Five,” Carol began and you sprung to your feet. To all of their surprise, you didn’t go for the door, you went for the stairs.

The three women were the best athletes in your school and you knew that if you ran out of the house you would have no chance of outrunning any of them, but maybe if you got ahold of the handgun your dad kept in his bedroom, you would stand a better chance of surviving the night.

“Four,” they continued as you ascended the stairs, scrambling over the steps quicker than you ever had in your life, even when you were a young child that thought monsters might be following you in the dark. Except this time they really were.

“Three.” You barged into your parents room and made for the safe in the corner.

“Two.” Your fingers fumbled against the number pad, making you enter the code wrong the first time until it clicked in confirmation for you to swing the door open to present an empty space. Your heart plummeted.

“One.” There was no time to ponder the location of the missing weapon, the only thing you could do was sprint to the best exit available.

“Ready or not, here we come,” Carol taunted as three sets of boots thudded up the stairs. Taking your chance, you ran to your own room towards the window that was in place just above the porch’s shelter. If you jumped from your own window down to the roof, there would be less chance of you injuring yourself and you would have a better shot of outrunning the intruders.

By the time you made it to your window, the first of the three was in your room just in time to see you struggling to pry open the old wood. Your heart hammered in your chest, refusing to look back at them as you failed to get a good grip on the window, unaware that it had been glued shut an hour prior.

“It’s almost a shame how predictable you are,” Natasha told you, grabbing you by the arm and hauling you on to your bed. Just as you landed, you leant back and put all of your energy into swinging your elbow into her ribs. She stumbled back at the impact and you moved to strike again but a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you just an inch off the floor. “But at least you’ve got some fight in you,” Natasha quipped as she watched you flair about in Carol’s arms.

“Fuck you!” You spat, realising that begging and compromising weren’t going to help you. “Let me go!”

“But darling, we can’t let you run off now. You’re bleeding,” Wanda told you, voice thick with concern you knew she didn’t have. You frowned, unable to recall when their knives had actually broken skin until you were introduced to Natasha’s dagger. She swiped the fierce blade across your abdomen, slicing through your thin shirt and leaving a trail of red across your skin that made you hiss. It wasn’t deep, but the next one was.

“And now you’ve messed up your clothes,” Carol added as she held you firmly against her so that Wanda could tear your shirt off you while you continued to struggle.

“You poor thing,” the Sokovian pouted as she examined the scarlet streaks across your stomach, tracing them with her fingers and smearing the blood up to your tits. She groped and pinched at your hardened nipples, chuckling when you turned your head to the side with a whine.

“Stop,” you whimpered, voice small.

“You’re not in charge here,” Carol warned. Her fingers were digging into your hips so firmly that you were sure she was going to leave you with bruises. You were powerless against it as you squirmed in her grasp, even as she threw you down onto your bed.

“Fuck!” You cried out when you felt another slash hit the back of your thighs. You tried to scramble away but a gloved hand wrapped itself around the back of your neck and held you down into the mattress.

“You had your chance to run,” Wanda said as she appeared on your pillows and switched her hold to your hair to tug you up and face her. You gritted your teeth with a glare, not ready to give up your fight yet. “Now you do as we say.”

You continued to glare at the Sokovian as a strong pair of gloved hands lifted your hips up to slide your shorts and underwear down painfully slowly, just because they could. The cold air hit you and sent a shiver through your body while your cheeks heard in embarrassment at being so exposed to the woman. You were sure Wanda’s heavy gaze noticed, but she didn’t comment, instead focused on rubbing her covered thumb across your lips.

“Open up.” She tapped them twice but you kept your lips firmly together. She smiled, amused, then delivered a harsh slap to your cheeks that heated them further. You still didn’t comply until she slapped you harder and your mouth fell open in shock, giving Wanda the chance to slip her fingers into your mouth and immediately press down on your tongue. You went to bite down on the rough material but the hand in your hair was suddenly gripping your jaw and holding it apart. You gagged slightly around her digits, trying your best to block out the laughter you heard around the room.

“I bet you’ll look so good choking on my strap,” Wanda mumbled, enchanted by the sight of you drooling around her gloves. Your protests were incoherent and you had a hard time not letting your head empty as Wanda slowly thrust her fingers. Even when she took her fingers out to pull her gloves off before filling your mouth again, you didn’t mumble a complaint…until you felt two fingers stroke your bare cunt.

You tried to twist around to at least see who it was, but Wanda was adamant on keeping your gaze fixed on her as one of the women collected the wetness you didn’t know was there and rubbed several circles on your clit. Your hips bucked involuntarily and you whined around Wanda’s digits.

“What was it that got you so sweet, doll?” Carol asked. “Was it when Natasha cut you? When we chased you up the stairs? Told you all those nasty things on the phone?” The blonde didn’t expect an answer and didn’t wait for one. She pushed two fingers forwards, groaning when your pussy took her in. You heard her curse and wanted to thrash away, but it was hard to deny how good it felt to have her skilled fingers inside you.

“Desperate whore,” Natasha commented as she appeared by Wanda’s side. The pair shared a passionate kiss as the Sokovian continued to thrust her own fingers and you couldn’t help but clench at the sight.

“You like watching them, doll? I didn’t take you for a voyeur,” Carol chuckled, curling her digits to elicit the reaction she wanted. You moaned when she brushed against the spot you needed, momentarily forgetting about the weapons they held until Natasha placed hers against your jugular.

“Malysh, let us play a little longer,” Wanda pouted to her lover. Natasha’s blank eyes bore into your own, still void of the excitement the other women held. Still, she pulled her knife away with a huff, making her girlfriend giggle as though she had become giddy at the promise of impending violence. “Let’s keep her entertained so she doesn’t regret that, huh?” Wanda whispered with a grin. You had always loved seeing her smile from afar, but in that moment you could only see the craze that sparkled in her eyes. She was terrifying, but still beautiful.

Almost so beautiful that between her and the fingers still steadily fucking you, you didn’t notice her unzip her trousers and pull out her strap until she was forcing you down on it. Your gags filled the room as she pushed you down by the back of your head, moaning softly at the way you struggled to take her. Tears filled your eyes and a distinct burning started up at the back of your throat as Wanda tried to break through. Your lips were wrapped so perfectly around her that she couldn’t help but buck her hips up slightly to chase some friction at your expense while you hit her thighs.

“Fuck, you get so tight when you can’t breath,” Carol groaned as pushed a third finger into you and scissored her digits slightly to enhance the stretch. Before you could grow accustomed, she pulled her soaked fingers out and pressed her own silicone toy between your legs. She prodded bashfully at your throbbing clit until you were shaking, wetting the length of the toy.

Carol muttered a curse when she pressed the head of her cock against your entrance that refused to part for her. You whimpered around the toy stuffing your mouth, feeling how large Carol was against you and how much it might hurt when she-

“Take it,” the blonde hissed when she finally forced her strap inside your cunt. Your legs gave out but she quickly took hold of your hips and used them to thrust further, deeper, inside you.

“How’s that feel, love?” Wanda asked as she brushed your hair away from your features that were blurred with pain and pleasure. The stretch was intense and it was hard to imagine a point that you would even begin to adjust to Carol’s size as she refused to let up, adamant that you take all of her. “You look so pretty getting stuffed like a good fucktoy,” she told you, almost in a singsong tone. “Don’t you think?” Wanda turned to her partner who sat in your chair to the side, her gaze dead set on you. If you hadn’t already been so overstimulated, you would have shuddered. Natasha was looking at you like you were her prey and you couldn’t hold her gazy any longer.

Carol didn’t pause for a second when her hips finally pressed against your own. She didn’t give you a moment to adjust or prepare, she instantly drew her hips back only to slam the entire length back into your abused cunt. You cried out, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Wanda cooed at the sight of you struggling to take them both, whispering condescending praises that you couldn’t pick up entirely. ‘Sweet fuck’ and ‘good whore’ were all you picked up as Wanda held you by the hair and made you continuously deepthroat her own toy while Carol pumped her cock in from behind, pace unrelenting. Your cunt burned in a pleasure you never could have imagined, bringing out moans you didn’t want to please the intruders with but couldn’t stop. It just felt so good to be used. Too good, more than you could hold off on.

“Gonna cum,” you managed to communicate when your whines grew louder and Wanda pulled you off her strap, spit down your chin and coating her toy.

“Cum for us,” Wanda said, pupils blown with lust at the sight beneath her. She pushed her strap back into your mouth but this time angled it slightly lower so that the harness could provide better friction for her clit. You didn’t realise what you were doing for her until you registered the stutter of her hips as she came with you.

“Fuck,” Wanda voiced as you cried out around her strap, clenching and pulsing around the cock in your pussy as Carol continued to fuck you relentlessly, pace still harsh. You shuddered and moaned, unable to distinguish up from down as your high was drawn out and you were sent toppling into a second one.

“Greedy thing,” you vaguely heard Natasha mutter as she stood up from the chair. Her boots thudded as she stalked towards the tangle of bodies, still only eyeing you.

“Come on, Nat. If she wants more, let's give her more,” Carol said, a smirk on her features that you never got to see. Natasha hummed, a trace of a smile threatening to break through.

As pathetic as it was, you could have cried when Carol pulled out. You immediately felt empty but bit your tongue when you felt a pair of hands haul you up the bed until you were straddling Wanda’s own piece that glistened in the low light. She didn’t give you any instructions or warnings, merely pulled your hips down until you were half way filled with her strap. Without anything to stop you this time, your moans bounced off of the walls.

Despite the laughter you heard, you were also met with a firm slap to the face from Natasha. She still had her gloves on and had more force to the act than Wanda did, more aggression. It was clear that out of the three, she was the one that wanted to hurt you the most. She grabbed your chin, assessing you for a hard minute as you grinded into the base of Wanda’s strap.

“Danvers, come here,” she said without taking her eyes off of you. Carol grumbled something about the redhead not being in charge but complied as the two swapped places. It unnerved you greatly to know she was lurking somewhere behind you, but the other women kept your focus on them.

Wanda suddenly bucked her hips up and took a hold of your waist, making you follow her shallow thrusts as though she didn’t want to be that far from you. It meant that the head of her cock hit the back of your pussy more often and with more force and it felt incredible.

“You look so good like this,” Wanda husked, her accent slipping through slightly in her haze.

“Keep her still,” Natasha’s voice came behind you. Wanda stilled her movements and slapped your thigh when you tried to move against her. You met her smirk with a silent plea until you felt two wet fingers prod against your ass.

“Wait-” you tried but Natasha was already pushing them into the first knuckle, despite your discomfort.

“No,” the redhead said back as her lips ghosted over your shoulder and her teeth sunk into your skin. You whined at the dual pain and in trying to move away only made the strap shift inside you.

It was all too much as you felt Natasha begin to thrust her fingers into your ass steadily. She twisted and curled her fingers before fanning them out to open you up while Wanda began to move your hips once more. The discomfort and pleasure blurred together until you found yourself craving anything they gave you. Your moans picked up more when Carol’s lips found your nipples.

“You’ll take what we give you,” Natasha said, gliding her dagger around your torso where the looming threat settled. She pulled her fingers out of your tightest hole only to swiftly replace them with her strap.

“Fuck, please!” You gasped at the sudden intrusion. “Too much,” you tried to communicate as you felt your body stretch once more.

“Shut her up,” Natasha huffed as she bore more of her weight down on you so that you took more of her piece. Your walls stretched so painfully that you almost didn’t register the cut to your torso. You cried out and fell against Wanda only to be pushed back so Carol could slide her strap between your lips.

With all three of them pounding into you in a purely primal manner, your body finally gave in to their assaults. Your eyes glazed over, unable to focus on any one thing as every thought in your mind struggled to make itself known. All you were aware of was the way seemingly every nerve in your defeated body was ablaze with an onslaught on sensations. The three women eventually found a rhythm to fall into together that ensured you were never empty, even as drops of blood fell from your scarlet chest you were too lost in the pleasure to acknowledge.

“You’re going to be the prettiest victim,” Natasha mumbled against your ear, biting the lobe softly. You whimpered, though not in fear. Their straps were hitting your depths over and over, never letting up for a second. Your holes welcomed them greedily, clenching around the silicone everytime they pulled out and making each woman grunt at the tightness. They made comments you mostly missed, but the degradation you picked up on only made you wetter, as Wanda pointed out. They were ruthless and even when you came again, they didn’t stop.

You whined around Carol’s toy, trying desperately to communicate how sore and used you felt. You needed a break to let your body recover, but it was made clear to you that you were done when the three women agreed you were. They pulled more orgasms from your wrecked frame, not caring when you soaked Wanda’s thighs with your cum or Carol’s with your spit. When you eventually passed out from the overstimulation, they withdrew.

You slumped against the Sokovian in an exhausted heap, barely able to keep your eyes open as she cooed to you how much of a perfect slut you were for them. You mumbled a protest when you were manoeuvred onto your back on the bed, finally opening your eyes to see Wanda leaning over you with a deranged look upon her face and shimmering knife in hand. “I know,” she said softly when your eyes widened in fear and tried to move your spent frame. “It’s scary, but you knew this bit would happen,” she continued, stroking your face as she dug the knife under your chin.

Carol and Wanda appeared at her side and you finally saw Natasha smile. She was smug, they all were. They had won. “Thank you for this, baby,” Wanda said, raising her dagger above her head. “You’ll look beautiful with our knives in you.”

Then she struck.

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cookiescribble · 4 months ago

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Flufftober Day 4: Market Day

AN: it should be no surprise that I will be writing a decent amount for spencer this flufftober 🫶🏻 writing spencer fluff is my favorite thing, so here's something short and sweet :) -mod angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Summary: Spencer insisted on giving you some help getting your groceries after spending the night at your apartment.

~~~

“You didn’t have to come with me, I just need to get a few things.”

Spencer was strolling along the aisle next to you, pushing the shopping cart after he insisted he be the one to take it.

“I just feel kind of weird being in your apartment without you,” he shrugged as if it was something nonchalant, but he was looking at you with those big eyes of his that say I would’ve missed you.

You had only been dating for a few months now, and Spencer sleeping over was still something that was pretty new. You both were still getting used to it, but it was something that made you both really happy. Especially being able to wake up next to each other, and now run morning errands together.

Waking up next to Spencer, now something you did multiple days a week, was one of your favorite things in the world. Seeing his sleepy face in the morning, with his hair all messy from sleeping, and the way he clung to you when he woke up… it filled your heart with a warmth you’d never felt before.

You smiled as you remembered waking up with him, and you leaned up to give him a quick peck on the cheek. His face turned a shade of light pink, and he gave you a bashful smile.

“Okay!” You clapped your hands together. “What’s next on the list?”

Spencer pulled the list you had both compiled out of his pocket. “Hmm… I think it says cookies.”

You looked at him, laughing warmly. “It definitely does not say cookies.”

“Yeah it does,” he laughed with you. “Right under bread. You don’t have to check it, I’ve got it.” He was already taking a box of chocolate chip cookies off the shelf and putting it in the cart, shoving the list back in his pocket, a playful smile on his face.

You just laughed, letting him get the cookies without argument. You knew he had a big sweet tooth.

“Well, something I know for sure that is on the list is chocolate chips and maple syrup, because I wanted to make us pancakes for breakfast,” you said as you continued walking through the store.

Almost as if on cue, Spencer’s stomach let out a quiet rumbling noise. “Yeah, I like the idea of pancakes right now. Especially if you’re making them.”

“Yeah,” you replied with a smile. “Let’s hurry up and finish shopping so we can go eat.”

#flufftober2024 #flufftober #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #fanficion #mod angel

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harryspet · 5 months ago

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ok but how would dark!Rafe react to the reader coming back to box with a baby she did not know she was pregnant with went she left? But since rafe was always too possessive she decided not to tell him that they had a kid 🙂‍↕️ they used to have some hook ups and was never a real commitment

[warnings] dark!rafe x reader, babydaddy!rafe, emotional/physical abuse, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

word count: 1.4k

“I’m here to pick up a cake. The name is Y/L/N,” You smiled at the young girl working behind the bakery counter as you bounced your toddler on her hip. You’d brought her stroller but Isla was beginning to insist on exploring whatever place you brought her to. You suffered, her weight on your hips, instead of dealing with another meltdown. She was an easy baby, you didn’t have too many sleepless nights when she was younger, but her mood had shifted over the past week.

She was more clingy, more irritable, and it was hard for her to understand that you were only staying on the island for a short time. The trip was brief, a week at most, but necessary. Your sister was getting married, the only reason you’d considered returning at all.

It had been over two years since you last walked these familiar piers, strolled past the charming beachside shops, or caught up with old friends and extended family. So much had changed in that time, not just in your life, but in this place that used to be home.

“Give us just a few moments. We’re putting on some finishing touches.”

“No problem,” You nodded, still keeping your face pleasant.

Isla was getting restless, so you decided it was time to let her down.

“Okay, Mama’s putting ya’ down, lovebug,” She was also walking a lot more and could usually walk a few feet on her own before falling. Simultaneously, you pushed her stroller out of the way while you helped her keep her balance with one arm, “Oooh, what’s that?”

You were always asking her questions, wanting to keep a mental lexicon of all the new words she was using. You could barely keep track now.

She was talking to herself, using the bakery counter to keep her balance as she walked. You smiled down at her, now able to fully focus on her, without that aching pain you felt on your side. You guided her away from reaching for a glass jar of candy, instead showing her over to a case that displayed a huge array of cookies.

You heard the bell of the bakery door jingle, and instinctively, you looked up. For a moment, you froze, watching him stride in. Tall, commanding, if anything, time had only sharpened those edges. His face had hardened with the years, the boyishness you once knew replaced by something more formidable. His stature was wider, arms thicker, and chest pronounced. His hair, now buzzed short, added to the maturity that radiated from him, making him look even more intense than before.

“I’ll take a black coffee. Make it an espresso,” You heard Rafe Cameron say. He hadn’t taken the time to look your way. Your instinct was to grab Isla and leave before he noticed you. Instead you turned your head and led Isla over to one of the cafe tables.

Your mind was racing but you did your best to keep your movements calm. His voice had sent a chill down your spine and the last thing you needed was for him to notice you. He probably wouldn’t, you told yourself, since the last time he saw you, he didn’t even know you were pregnant.

You tried to distract Isla by giving her one of her stuffed rabbits but her mood was shifting quickly. She wanted to look at all the baked goods through the glass and no toy would compare to that. Her lower lip started to tremble and as they did, you lifted her into your lap, “I know, baby,” You whispered but she arched her back, starting to wail, “Isla, not right now, please.”

You cooed at her and tried to rock her but now you were afraid you’d made the situation worse, drawn more attention to yourselves.

“Y/N,” Rafe’s voice was low and you could already hear the disbelief.

There was no way out of it. You’d been avoiding this exact confrontation and planned to never have to deal with this. When your eyes met with his, you thought of Isla, and kept her tight against you despite her protests.

Rafe’s gaze bore into you, sharp and questioning, his eyebrow arched in a way that was both familiar and unsettling. His eyes flickered back and forth between you and Isla, trying to piece together the reality that had just unfolded in front of him. Then, with a heaviness that matched the tension in the air, he collapsed into the wooden seat beside yours. He seemed ...exhausted. He folded his arms over the table, his hands gripping the coffee cup as if it were the only thing grounding him.

Present blurred with the past, the intensity of his gaze pulling you back to memories you’d buried long ago. You thought of late nights, laughter and sneaking around. You remembered how he used to look at you, how he saw you at your most vulnerable and still made you feel cherished.

“Rafe,” You finally spoke, slowly, “It’s been so long–”

“You weren’t ever going to tell me.”

You swallowed hard, wondering how he had pieced it all together so quickly. Isla, still upset, stared up at Rafe with a mix of curiosity and fear, her small fingers tucked into her mouth. Even with tears streaming down her face, the resemblance was undeniable. She was a perfect blend of both of you—his eyes, your smile, a fusion of your skin tones and hair textures. Your carefully guarded secret was written all over her for him to see.

“No,” You said honestly, “My parents …I did it for them at first. They were concerned.”

“What? You think I’d hurt her or something. My own fucking kid?” He kept his voice at conversational level but the look in his eyes made it feel like it was yelling.

“I didn’t know…you were so angry when we stopped hooking up,” You started to shrink which was exactly what you were afraid of, “And then when you got arrested …”

“Fuck,” Was all he said, “What’s …What’s her name?”

“Isla,” You answered.

“Isla,” Rafe repeated and for a moment, there was tenderness in his eyes as he looked down at her, “You were pregnant when you left?”

You nodded, “We’re just here for the rest of the week because of my sisters wedding.”

“Where do you live?” Rafe asked and this time you hesitated.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea …”

"I'm going to lay it out for you, Y/N," Rafe began, his voice low and dangerous, his gaze locked on you. "You're going to tell me where you've been living, everything you've been hiding from me these past two years. I want to know who you've been with, who you’ve spread your legs for, who you've let near my daughter. Then, the two of you are coming back to Kildare, and you're going to let me be a part of her life. No more secrets. No more running."

His demands, raw and unfiltered, made you feel a rush of emotions. Fear and anger settled over your features, “Rafe. It’s not …it’s not happening. It’s not about you or me. This is all for her.”

“I’m not letting you shut me out again. Do you understand that?” The young girl behind the counter called your name and you made a move to stand up but Rafe reached across the table to grab your arm.

“We have to go and I need time to …to figure this out.”

He shook his head and you winced at the pressure he was putting on your skin. “Time? You’ve had two years, Y/N. Two years without me. You walk out of here, I will find you. You leave this island and I will search for you.”

“This isn’t the place for this. Let me go,” You gritted your teeth.

“You know what I’m capable of, right?” He eyed you sharply, unrelenting. You thought back to those happy memories. When things were good, they were incredible and when things were bad …You never had a label with Rafe and yet every guy you talked to that wasn’t him always seemed to end up injured or broke contact with you, “And things have changed around here. There are more lines, different lines, I’m willing to cross.”

You knew that coldness in his eyes, you’d seen it many times in the aftermath of his rage. “Rafe, please,” You whispered, “For Isla’s sake.”

“She’s mine and so are you.” You finally nodded, tears stinging your eyes, and he finally loosened his grip.

You made your way with Isla and her stroller back to the counter, collecting your sister’s wedding cake. As you reached your car, you glanced back, half-expecting Rafe to follow you. But he remained inside, watching you through the glass.

hope you enjoyed!!

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron #dark fic #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #send dark!rafe thoughts

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icingred · 6 months ago

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Reverse AU

Rev Stormbringer + the dragons

Yes the dragons have saddles, the king is mean again. They didn’t do anything really, that's why storm doesn't like that lmao

Reverse Stormbringer Cookie

Although Storm has the power of the skies, she's a soft and humble cookie who'll help those in need.

Strolling in the lands for adventure and meeting new friends was her way to spend time. From time to time, Storm would help her deities with work, even when not asked for.

One night, when the Red Moon rose, it upset the skies, cursing the goddess’ deities. It attempted to take Storm herself too, but her lightning quick resistance stopped it from doing so. Rushing down to land for safety, she was met with heavy rain, strong winds, and abnormal clouds. The storms raged and brought devastation onto land.

As it's Stormbringer's job to save her friends, she wasted no time to stop the heaven's madness. However, as she fought her way through, a strong dark force hit the Heavensplitter, fracturing it.

It weakened the weapon and caused it to malfunction.

After the red moon’s departure, Stormbringer could bring the skies back to how they were and the deities to their proper selves. But the Heavensplitter remained cracked. It was less controllable and more chaotic when Storm tried to use it again. But now knowing that it brings more harm than good, she left the skies anxiously, hoping to find a way to fix it. Stormbringer Cookie felt fear and unworthy, now that she wasn't able to help as much as she used to.

I thank you for reading this mess lol

#cookie run kingdom #cookie run #cookie run au #alternate universe #crk #cr kingdom #my art #stormbringer cookie #twin dragons

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chewyjellycable · 1 year ago

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Messing around with a light brush for funsies

#chewy art #oc tag #cookie run #crob #cookie run ovenbreak #crob oc #cookie run oc #cookie run ovenbreak oc #night stroll cookie #bredele de cassonade cookie #cream cheese tea cookie #even the posts that arent solely dele are forced to deal with dele's presence

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vivwritesfics · 1 year ago

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Mrs Baker, Ma'am

Landoscar's girlfriend loved to bake and all of the grid love when she brings her baked goods to the paddock

Y/N loved the Monaco Grand Prix for just a few reasons. One, it was the race set where she lived, meaning she was familiar with the surroundings and she could sleep in her own bed the night before the race. Two, she could watch the practices from her balcony with her cat on her lap and coffee in her hands. Three, she got to rock up to the paddock with a basket full of baked goods.

Maybe that was why Lando and Oscar fell in love with her. Because Y/N always had some sort of baked good ready for them. While Lando was gaming, she’d be teaching Oscar to bake and presenting the results to Lando. Fans loved when it happened while Lando was streaming. They loved nothing more than watching a blushing Oscar walking into the room with a tray full of cookies. His cheeks would be red while Lando took a cookie from the tray and moaned while he ate it.

The rest of the paddock had also expressed their love for Y/N’s baking. Carlos had been the first to try her baking when he and Lando were teammates. When he moved to Ferrari, Carlos found himself wanting some of Y/N’s baked goods and telling Charles all about them.

Y/N found herself strolling towards the Ferrari garage the next day, a container full of biscuits, muffins and cookies tucked under her arms. It was kind of funny, actually. The Ferrari boys had been talking about it in a press conference and Y/N had seen it and gone out to get ingredients that day. She’d spent her night baking, thankful that she and Lando were staying in an apartment, not a hotel, in Australia.

And then when Daniel had become Lando’s teammate, Y/N had brought him something baked almost every grand prix. From there the news of her baking had spread around the paddock, since Daniel was friends with everybody.

Y/N began bringing her baked goods whenever the grand prix was in Monaco. If she happened to make too much, she’d take some over to Charles or Max in their apartments.

This time, Y/N had two baskets of baked goods on her arms. She strode through the paddock in her best trousers and a cute vest top. She couldn’t stop from smiling as she walked into the McLaren garage.

Zac Brown was the first to spot her. Her, and the basket of baked goods. “Hi, Y/N,” he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as he walked her further into the garage.

“Hey, Zac,” she said, holding out one of the baskets.

After Zac picked out a cupcake, Y/N put the basket down. She greeted more of the McLaren staff and directed them towards the basket of baked goods. She had everything, croissants, pain au chocolats, cupcakes, doughnuts, muffins, cookies, and biscuits. At the bottom of the basket was some fudge she had made, just in case there weren’t enough baked goods for everybody.

Once those working in the McLaren garage were working through her basket of baked goods, Y/N made her way out of the McLaren garage and headed off to Red Bull.

There were just twenty pastries in this basket. On Monaco weekends, Y/N gave out what she could and brought more the next day, giving pastries to as many people in as many teams as possible. Drivers got her pastries on a Saturday and everybody else got them on the Sunday. Everybody else included wags and whoever else got to her first. There was one time where Martin Brundle got completely sidetracked when he went to talk to Lando and ended up with one of Y/N’s pastries.

Max was nowhere to be seen, so Y/N went over to Sergio Perez, who was talking to his engineers. She waited for him to finish up before offering him a cookie. And then she went off to Max’s driver room, after asking Christian where he was.

She knocked on the door and waited for confirmation before walking in. Max’s eyes lit up when he saw her. “If I didn’t have a wonderful girlfriend, I’d be jealous of Lando and Oscar,” he said and gratefully accepted a chocolate chip muffin.

Y/N moved on, walking towards the Ferrari garage. Carlos seemed to have a sixth sense for Y/N and her baked goods, and spun on his heel and marched over to her, a wide grin on his face. “pequeño pollo,” he said and wrapped his arms around her. Carlos pressed a kiss to the side of her head, wearing heart eyes as he picked out the pastry he wanted.

She offered Charles a pastry and moved onto Mercedes. Y/N went from garage to garage, greeting the drivers her boyfriends called their friends and offering them a cookie or a cake or something. Each and every driver was grateful.

And last, after giving Fernando and Lance two of the last pastries, Y/N made her way back to McLaren. She strode into the garage, the mechanics, engineers and strategists giving her compliments on her baking skills.

Y/N grinned and thanked them, making her way to where her boyfriends were talking to their boss. When Zac saw her, he trailed off and the boys turned around.

Oscar was the first to spot her. He walked towards her and wrapped his arms around her, ignoring the pastries. “Have you been making your rounds?” He asked her.

Nodding her head, Y/N kissed his cheek. “I’ve got two left for you and Lan,” she said.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, Oscar walked Y/N over to Lando and Zac. She smiled at the CEO, who immediately began complimenting her on the cupcake. “And the fudge? Oh my god, it was next level,” Zac said. He then left them to it, walking back over to the basket to look for more fudge.

YN looked at her boyfriends and held the basket up in front of her. The boys reached inside, Lando pulling out a chocolate filled croissant and Oscar pulling out a cookie. “Thank you, baby,” Lando said and reached forward to kiss her. Oscar did the same and broke off a piece of cookie to share with her.

Y/N spent the rest of the Monaco grand prix with her boyfriends either tucked into Lando’s side or holding Oscar’s hand. After the qualifying, Y/N took her boyfriends home and rewarded them with another round of baked goods. On race day she brought enough for the WAGS and other team principles. She made another batch of fudge for Zac Brown and Zac Brown only.

All of the paddock were slightly jealous of Lando and Oscar, and their girlfriend who loved to bake. If she was bringing her baked goods to the grand prix, they could keep their jealousy at bay.

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attapullman · 11 months ago

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Bob From Stats | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: College is a wild time, but absolutely nothing could prepare you for the quiet guy from Stats riding around campus as a cowboy. Or what a good kisser he is.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: f!reader, smut, 18+ ONLY as always, dry humping, alcohol, drunken party games, mentions of studying because that gives me PTSD, semi-exaggerated Greek life for theatrical reasons

A Note From Mo: Somehow my frat!Bob, drunk Bob is Rhett, and 7 minutes in heaven ideas all rolled into one fic - wild! Massive shoutout to everyone who listened to me talk about Stats Bob (who is now officially my #2 Bob, I love him) and for supporting this here lil blog. May you find a hobby-horse-wielding future WSO to sweep you off your feet too!

If you liked this, you may also enjoy on our syllabus Bob From Pi Kapp.

“I hate this. I’m going to quit school and become a stripper.”

Anna gives you a wry look. “That joke was only funny the first time you said it.”

“So you admit I’m funny!”

The two of you have been spread out in the library the majority of the evening. Textbooks, snacks, and highlighters littering the glossy dark wood. You’re on hour five of assignments and your brain is pounding against the front of your skull. Your other classes aren’t too bad, a bit time consuming, but Statistics is a foreign language. Thinking in probable numbers? It was one thing when the nice guy who sat behind you helped explain concepts, but Anna does not have quite the same analytical mind.

The sky outside is an inky black and the library is quiet except for your frustrated huffs. It’s Saturday night. The rest of campus is indulging in cheap beers at Barney’s, slinking along Greek Row, or enjoying tonight’s episode of Saturday Night Live. It’s time to get out of here and crawl into your soft bed. Torturing yourself with Stats homework will be just as painful on Sunday.

“If I buy us a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough, can we blow this off and hang out back at the dorms?” Anna is nodding before you’ve even finished. Stuffing notebooks into backpacks and capping pens low on ink, you’re strolling down the library stairs not even five minutes later.

As the balmy evening campus air hits your face, you already feel fresher. Campus is quiet, late enough that most people are settled into their Saturday night plans. As the two of you near Greek Row, there’s a comfortable silence as you appreciate the breeze through the trees and the warm glow of campus housing windows.

That is, until a low whoop rings out. An undercurrent of boisterous cheering and what sounds like stomping feet. You exchange eyes with your roommate. What is that?

As if summoned, a group comes galloping through the neatly trimmed cypress trees around the corner. They’re stomping their feet in a rhythm, hands held mid-air to imitate holding reigns. Drunken laughs ring out between cries of “Whoa!” and “Steady there, Lucky!” To round it off, the leader of their horse play (literally) is full-on cosplaying as a cowboy, his jeans tucked into boots and a Stetson perched atop his head.

Wait, is he holding a hobby horse? It’s been decades since you’ve seen those horse heads stuck on a stick. The stuffed felt Appaloosa head is reigned in the cowboy’s hands, where he pretends to spur it back into action.

Just when you think you’ve seen it all.

The group continues its way toward you and you’re equally secondhand embarrassed and amused. As they grow closer you recognize a few guys from the Pi Kapp house and wave. But it’s Anna who makes the most shocking discovery when Mr. Cowboy tilts his brim up.

"Is that Bob from Stats?"

It takes a second to look past the brown felt hat and the hobby horse he's taking for a spin, but that's definitely the same pink-cheeked Bob Floyd who has lent you a pencil all semester.

“Howdy, ladies.” He tips his hat to you, all toothy grin and droopy drunk eyes. "Can I offer you a ride?"

You stare open-mouthed. Shocked. That slow rancher drawl is new. The unbridled confidence is new. Actually, the entire getup is new. For nine weeks you’ve seen him in the same trucker hat and sweatshirt combo while going over homework answers together. What is going on?

He’s clearly in the middle of his house party crawl, bright blue eyes half open behind his metal frames. Just as gorgeous as ever as a tendril of sandy hair curls against his forehead. Normally your reaction to him is tender, a puppy dog crush. But this wild, inebriated version of him? You’re hot under the collar.

“You think there’s room on your horse?” Ever since that first Stats class he’s made your brain feel like it’s on RedBull. The way he noticed you missing a writing utensil and offering you his extra. His kind smile when you get a homework answer completely wrong. Anna hasn’t noticed your crush, but it feels obvious with the way you can barely keep eye contact with him yet are unable to look away. Especially with that stupid cowboy hat on.

He bites his lip, considering your response, and his buddies all razz him as he drawls out, “There will be if we squeeze in.”

The wink makes your mouth dry.

Someone from the back of the group complains of the cold and the group prepares their steeds to head back to Pi Kapp. Anna explains you’re headed back to the dorms, tone deaf to the sexual tension, and Bob nods with his brow furrowed.

“Another time then.” His white tshirt practically glows in the moonlight. “Have a good night, chickadees. Get home safe!”

With another tip of his Stetson to you, Bob Floyd gallops away toward another keg.

You’re sprinting across campus, cursing how late your meeting with your advisor went. There was ten minutes to get across campus and he had spent four of those questioning whether you really needed another semester of French. You make it into the lecture hall with a minute to spare, finding your preferred spot in the lower rows where you can actually see the board. Right in front of Bob.

“What? No cowboy hat for class?” His cheeks flame red, the hope you’ve forgotten about his Saturday antics lost. He looks like himself today, his signature trucker cap keeping the hair off his face. Those friendly ultramarine eyes shyly focusing on his notebook because god forbid he makes eye contact after you’ve seen him gallop across campus on a fake horse.

He rubs the back of his neck over his soft-looking crewneck, an awkward smile playing on his lips. “It’s at the cleaners.”

You give him an amused grin before settling yourself into one of the classically uncomfortable lecture seats. Anna waves to you from where she’s rushing in, historically always late. The professor is shuffling notes at the podium as she collapses into the seat next to you, nodding her head in greeting to you and to Bob. She raises her eyebrows to you, a “remember when Bob was dressed as a cowboy” gesture, and your lips twist happily.

“Alright, class, who’s ready to talk probability?” The collective groans and hollers mark the start of lecture. You flip open your notebook and start digging around for a writing instrument in your bag. Like usual, you seem to be missing a pen or pencil when you need one most.

A tap on your shoulder. You turn and lock eyes with the frat boy-turned-cowboy with the shy smile. He holds out a pencil to you. Taking it sheepishly, you mouth a thank you and turn back to lecture. After nine weeks it shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but every week he’s given you a pencil since you whispered shoot! a little too loud on Week 1.

Risking a quick glance back at him, engrossed in the Empirical Law of Averages while he twirls his pencil, you’re not sure you can survive the rest of the semester.

By the end of the Stats lecture on Thursday, you have one brain cell to your name and seven pages of notes. What a brutal class. Midterms were quickly approaching and not a single professor had any mercy. As you pack up your stuff - including the borrowed pencil that would promptly disappear before next class - you make a study plan with Anna for that evening. She brings the chips, you’ll supply the vodka.

“Are you two not hitting the houses tonight?” He looks uncomfortable having interrupted the two of you.

Bob shifts his backpack to his other shoulder, adjusting the collar of his navy blue sweatshirt. Other than when he’s kindly exchanged homework answers before class - or been drunkenly galloping across campus - the two of you don’t speak much. The odd quip here and there, but overall the two of you exist in pencil-sharing quiet. “Everyone’s having pre-midterm parties before buckling down to study.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!” You look at Anna encouragingly. As needed as a vodka-infused study session was, one night out couldn’t hurt. And it was Thursday. No classes tomorrow meant you had three days to buckle down and attempt to understand anything you’ve learned this semester.

She eyes you warily, but agrees that Greek Row sounds like a better option than highlighting textbooks. Bob flashes you his timid smile beneath the brim of his cap. “It’ll be a fun night. Maybe I’ll see you? If not, have a good weekend!”

As he starts to walk out, a feeling takes over you. “Bob?” You watch him slow down and turn, wide blue eyes watching you from behind those unconventionally cute glasses. “You’ll be at the Pi Kapp house, yeah?” He nods. “Cool. See you around!”

Despite standing next to it the entire conversation, neither of you notice the pencil sitting on the desk, left behind as you head out for your respective weekends.

“What did you say?” You’re practically yelling to be heard over the EDM that Sigma Chi is blaring. They’ve turned their house into a rave with glow sticks, body paint, and music so loud your eardrums must be burst. The beer is warm, your arm has supernaturally purple paint smeared across it, and Anna has been unsuccessfully telling you a story for ten minutes.

Huffing, she grabs your arm and drags you toward the entrance, tossing your cups onto a random hallway table where a heated makeout session is taking place. They move out of the way just enough so the two of you can slip out of the old colonial house and out into the cool night. The ringing in your ears subsides slowly as you lean against the columns of the front porch.

“House number three? Also sucked. Three strikes and you’re out? Can we go home?” Anna grabs your wrist and pouts. She wanted movie night with vodka and a pizza from Pietro’s. You wanted to blow off steam.

But Alpha Sig had mostly been freshman and Phi Delt, while not a terrible party, had the most smarmy men on campus. The bleeding eardrums of Sigma Chi was preferable to pushing off men in polos just to grab another drink. You just wanted a semi-decently flavored alcoholic beverage - maybe three - while chatting with some friends. You weren’t asking for much.

Allowing Anna to drag you in the direction of the dorms, ready to admit defeat, you slow to a stop seeing the bricked entrance to Pi Kappa Phi. Bob’s fraternity. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

It takes a little convincing, but soon you’re in the warmly lit foyer of the Pi Kapp house. The vibe is more relaxed than Sigma Chi, with a keg in the corner, an array of liquor bottles in the kitchen, and hip-hop softly filling the house. You’re impressed they’ve even gone the extra mile with multi-colored string lights across every surface to brighten up the otherwise dark house.

“Yooooo, how’s it going?” A drunken loaf of snapback and Deep Eddy envelopes you in a hug. It’s Tyler, one of your freshman seminar PK friends. Exchanging pleasantries - the best you can with someone that far gone - he drags you further into the house. Miscellaneous groups of Greek and geed litter the hallways. Anna sees her friends from Delta Gamma and ditches you, promising to get home safe. Tyler continues on his mission to god knows where.

At least he’s considerate enough to stop in the kitchen so you can grab a whiskey lemonade to sip.

Eventually you’re spat into a sitting room of sorts, groups crowding the ring of sofas while drunkenly jeering at the game. You set yourself on the arm of one, trying to make sense of the theatrics. The latest victim laughs out a “Truth!” before everyone giggles wickedly. Are they playing truth or dare?

Your eyes gloss over the group, trying to figure out who else you know. A few PK’s you recognize, a girl who smiles but looks unfamiliar, and…a cowboy hat that is a dead giveaway.

Standing up and walking around the group, you tap him on the shoulder. The biggest blue eyes meet yours, a surprised smile splitting his face.

“You made it!” That deep drawl is back and that tingle reappears on your spine. Bob jumps up from the couch, beer bottle dwarfed in his hand, and comes to stand with you. “You having a good night?”

Ironically, your night is much better now that you’ve found him. He’s back in his cowboy gear, a worn denim shirt tucked into his jeans and those same cowboy boots scuff against the hardwood. You’re tempted to steal the felt hat from his head just so he looks a little bit more like Bob from Stats.

Squeezing your eyes shut, letting the alcohol be an excuse, you succumb to the obvious question. “I need to know - what’s with the…cowboy?” You gesture up and down, drawing a chuckle from him.

He blushes under the felt brim. “You know I have a slight accent, yeah?” You attempt to stifle your laugh as he incidentally talks in a thicker accent. “When I was a pledge they started calling me cowboy. Saw the hat while I was in town one week, ended up leaning into the joke.”

“And the hobby horse?”

He beckons you closer, bringing his lips to your ear. “Stolen from my little sister over summer break.”

There’s that wink again making your knees weak. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and takes another sip from his beer. Despite the party raging around you, nothing else seems to exist past him asking about your night and if you want another drink. You’re wrapped in the warmth of his words, itching to snuggle into his broad chest.

The spell is broken when “Cowboy Bob!” rings out from the crowd. The entire room is turned to you two. “Truth or dare, man?”

In the background of your intimate conversation with Bob, the truths and dares have reached full raunchiness. People have been stripped of clothes and dirty secrets. A bead of sweat gathers at Bob’s collar, aware that neither option is safe.

His worried gaze flits to you, as if you hold the correct answer, before tipping his hat back and exhaling, “Dare?”

It’s gutsy, but if there’s one thing you’re learning about the quiet guy from Stats, he’s full of surprises. The crowd bubbles with excitement, anticipating what dare will be dealt out. Next to you, the wannabe cowboy looks more annoyed than anything. He was enjoying talking to you not in a classroom and with a little liquid courage.

An evil smile crosses the dare-dealer’s face. He knows Bob and isn’t blind to what’s going on. He’s gonna help his buddy out on this one.

His arm stretches out and he points (with the red plastic cup in his hand) to the coat closet at the end of the hall. “Hmmmmm, I dare you to, hmm, play Seven Minutes in Heaven with…” It’s no surprise when the cup-turned-pointer lands on you.

Ice water down your back wouldn’t be as panic inducing. It’s hard to tell who swallows harder, you or Cowboy Bob. Every instinct is telling you to run, but that little voice in the back of your head wins out. As Bob starts to tell you it’s okay, they’re joking, you don’t have to, you grab his thick wrist and give him a nervous smile. You don’t even care what the punishment is for not completing a dare, this stupid drunken game has given you an opportunity.

The dealer of the dare follows the two of you down the hallway, leading the whoops and wolf whistles. Bob’s cheeks flame scarlet in the low light. You keep your chin high and eyes forward. He can definitely feel the way you’re trembling around his wrist.

Whether in anxiety or excitement it’s hard to tell.

The inside of the closet is dark, the faint light under the door casting only the faintest of shadows. Your heart is pounding, blood pulsing through your ears. Bob rubs his lips together nervously. It’s all you can do to not run your tongue along them.

“We don’t have to do anything, we can just talk.” The way he prioritizes your comfort makes heat pool between your legs. The brim of his hat is as far back as it can go, his eyes tracing the lines of your face as he gauges your emotions. He’s welcome to figure them out, you’re unsure of them yourself.

His large, warm hand rubs your forearm comfortingly, your skin too cold without his touch. You’re suffocating under his sweat-and-bergamot scent, citrusy and warm.

You bite the bullet. “What if I want to?”

His breath stops. Fingers find yours in the dark, interlocking on either side of your hips. Eyes you know are the deepest blue lock onto your gaze, a million emotions passing behind his irises. Face descending upon the space between you, tentatively showing his intentions. You meet him in the middle, caution out the window.

The kiss is gentle, puzzle pieces slotting together for the first time. He tastes like malt sugar and peppermint. Mouth warm and soft, enveloping you fully in his comfort. It’s even better than what you’ve imagined for the past nine weeks.

Bob begins to pull away, ever the gentleman. Your hand finds his collar, holding him in place. “Not yet, we still have, like, five and a half minutes.”

Despite the low light, his smile lights up the closet.

His lips return to yours in a rush, swallowing your mouth in a passionate heat. The press of his body to yours is delicious. Hands previously at your side meet your hips, lightly squeezing as you moan into his mouth. You reach up and hold the back of his neck, bringing him even closer as your lips toy with the tiniest bit of stubble along his jaw.

“You know,” he starts, holding the moan in the back of his throat. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since September.”

You pull back momentarily, a crinkle upon your brow. “Bob, we didn’t start Stats until January.”

He kisses the confusion from your face, his hands wrapping further around your body. “And you looked very pretty in that green dress at the homecoming barbecue.”

Bless your love of school spirit and free food. “Why didn’t you? Kiss me?”

“I don’t normally make a habit of kissing girls I don’t know. And clearly it takes an entire fraternity for me to get you alone.” The way his chuckle bounces against your skin has you squirming. Your schoolgirl crush on him wasn’t one-sided, and suddenly you’re hot for teacher.

You capture him in another kiss, tongue searching the seam of his lips for entrance. He obliges immediately, groaning as you explore his taste. Four hands roam skin, finding purchase in anything and everything. Your body has a mind of its own as you press against him, chest heaving with your passion. The right shift of fabric on fabric reveals that he’s equally as affected by the chemistry.

Reluctantly, he pulls away once more, threading his fingers across the back of your neck. Takes a moment to capture his breath as he sees the lust in your eyes. A deep breath. “As much as I like you, I don’t want to do anything if you’re drunk.”

Soft fingers follow the line of his arm to where it wraps around your waist. How is he this impossibly sweet? Thoughtful, respectful, and looking hot as sin with swollen lips. It’s unfair.

“I promise I’m not.” You stroke the back of his hand. “Please kiss me?”

His large hands unwrap from your waist and travel down, shifting behind your legs and pulling you up, resting your back against the wall. You tangle your legs around his waist as best you can in the small space, relishing his firm body pressed deliciously close, warm and solid. Kisses smeared across lips and jaws as noises crescendo. You’re panting as you trail down to his impossibly long neck, desperate to cover it in affection.

You’ve barely explored the expanse of skin when the door flies open, the boisterous party sounds flooding in. Reality strikes like a slap across the face. The truth-or-dare ringleader takes you in - legs wrapped around Bob and hands creeping toward your ass - and whoops in delight. Who knew Cowboy Bob had it in him!

“Time’s up, lovebirds!” He crows and reaches forward to slug Bob lightly on the shoulder.

Not skipping a beat, Bob shoves his friend back and throws up his middle finger. “Fuck off, Milburn.”

The closet door slams shut, blanketing you again in the intimacy of the moment. You’re looking at him with unsure eyes and he’s praying the moment hasn’t been ruined. He’s waited seven calendar months for this opportunity and his fingers are so close to enjoying the plump squeeze of your ass.

“We can go back to the party if you want?” Your voice is so small, nervous outside of those bold seven minutes. Tentative breaths exist between you.

In lieu of an answer, he bows his head to give you a searing yet gentle kiss.

That cramped coat closet suddenly is an inferno, his tongue slipping inside your mouth and groaning at the burning sweetness of your taste. Your hands grip his shoulders as you fight for dominance, fingers tangling in denim. Hips brushing together, still clinging to the idea of this being innocent.

An innocence immediately lost when Bob strikes up the courage and palms your ass. Soft and pliable and perfect to squeeze in his palms. He remembers the exact day you came to class in the tightest jeans known to man (laundry day) and the way he had dug his pencil in his palm to avoid a semi as your curved ass met the lecture seat. Something unavoidable now as you squirm against him, moaning your pleasure against the pulse in his neck.

Nothing has ever felt as good as rubbing against Bob Floyd’s clothed bulge. One glance down and you’re dizzy with arousal. Rutting yourself against him as best you can with your limited mobility, sloppy kisses exchanged as the two of you can barely keep your mouths closed. It feels so good, too good.

Lost in the moment, one hand slips below the hem of your skirt, warm skin on skin. Any noise from outside the closet dims to a hum. Two hearts beating rapidly as desire fully consumes, directing lips to too hot exposed skin. You murmur your need in his ear. You don’t care where you are, you need him.

Bob tucks a finger under your thong, feeling the slick coating your folds. The whine that leaves him is desperate and gruff. He groans against your throat. “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

Undeterred, your lip catches between your teeth, core muscles contracting as you grind your hips forward. “Doesn’t mean I can’t go for a ride.”

He’s immediately on board, teasing you briefly before extricating his hand to support you better against the wall. His hands practically swallow your ass, flooding you with lust. You thrust your chest against him, desperate to touch every spot on his handsome body as your hips begin to grind.

His hands are sweltering as they trail down, effortlessly clutching the back of your thighs to give you leverage. Your clit finds friction against his jeans and your mouth hangs open as you buck frantically into him.

“Look at you move, cowgirl,” he breathes out, infatuated. The nickname spurrs you on, whimpering against his lips.

One hand clutching his bicep, holding on for desperate life, while the other snakes its way atop the damned cowboy hat that’s stayed on the entire encounter. Gripping the top of it and holding fast as you ride his clothed bulge with everything you’ve got. Denim and lace against your clit, rubbing deliciously as your brain fuzzes. His hot mouth focused at the hinge of your jaw, sucking soft bruises into the skin; moaning when you brush him just right.

“I’m close,” you whisper against his cheek. Time has stood still, but it’s embarrassing how close he’s gotten you to orgasm with just his clothed cock and strong hands.

He ruts his hips forward, meeting your thrusts in heavenly synchronization. You’re panting as the pressure on your clit catapults you, so close to the ultimate prize. Whispers of you can do it, cowgirl, cum for me, doing so good riding me, just a bit more, cowgirl fizzle your senses.

“O-oh!”

It’s intense, the blinding pleasure coursing through your body. Prolonged by the thick bulge still rutting against you, ready to burst itself. Lips tickling your ear as he praises you. You want to live in this perfect moment of bliss. A moment only perfected when Bob’s fingers grip too hard and his hips stutter up into yours. His all-consuming orgasm only muffled by the skin of your shoulder as he rides it out.

The rhythmic slowing of your breaths is all you can focus on. You breathe in, he breathes out. Small smiles and a blush barely visible in the low light.

Delicately, like he knows you might break, he releases you back to the ground; taking his time to smooth down your skirt and straight out your top. Your own hands reach up to his chest, fixing the fabric that had bunched up in your passion. Adjusting his fogged glasses to look into his beautiful eyes.

It doesn’t matter how much you clean up, one look at you two and anyone would comment you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.

With one final kiss to your lips, you feel something land on your head. The brown cowboy hat with the rip along the edge. Cowboy Bob showing off his cowgirl.

You tentatively open the closet door, eyes adjusting to the normal light. Painfully aware of the wet splotch on the obvious front of his jeans, Bob holds your body against him as a human shield. The party is still going strong - your antics have not interrupted anything - and you slip toward the front door without notice. Well…mostly, as a few wolf whistles reach your ears.

“It’s not that late, you want to go back to mine? I’m just off Thornton. It’s quiet since everyone is here.” His eyes are so hopeful in the dark night. So desperate for you to say yes. For you to be his cowgirl beyond tonight.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him close, careful to avoid the spot where your bodily fluids have drenched his jeans. “I’m in.” Your smile is blinding. “We have about nine weeks of Stats to make up.”

The brick is uncomfortable behind your back, but it’s hard to care when his lips feel so good. Broad shoulders shielding you from the hallway, trucker hat turned around and glasses in his pocket so there’s not an inch between your faces. Agreeing to meet outside before lecture was such a good idea.

Despite spending most of the time between Thursday night and Tuesday afternoon in Bob’s apartment trying every position in the book (with teasing hollers from his Pi Kapp roommates adding to the soundtrack) you can’t help but steal these five minutes. He looks so cute, to not kiss him would be a crime.

Bob squeezes your hips, lips trailing down your jaw. “What’s on your mind, cowgirl?”

“I’m trying very hard to convince myself that we pay a lot of money to attend this school and should go learn about statistics. Even though I really only want to head back to my dorm and see how sturdy that loft bed is.”

From where his nose traces your ear, a guttural whine leaves him. “You can’t say something like that and expect me to go to class.”

You pull back to look at him, fingers tickling the close cropped hair at his neck. God, he makes it so hard to want to be responsible.

“Let’s make a deal, okay? We’ll go to class, learn, and tonight you come over and for every study guide question you get right I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Sound good?” He’s practically panting as he smothers your mouth in another kiss. He’s really good at Stats. A steady stream of students files past Bob’s back, a sign that class is about to start.

You press another kiss to his lips. “Let’s go or we’ll miss out on seats. Plus I need to dig through my bag for a pencil.”

“Do you think you actually have one today?” He smirks, amused. The eighteen pencils he’s lent you say otherwise.

Your cheeks are hot under where he kisses them. “Uh…if I don’t can I borrow one? If you have one, that is.”

He lets out a soft chuckle and holds you closer, rubbing your noses softly.

“You do realize I’ve been buying pencils all semester just to give to you, right?”

Turning his cap around - insides fully melted - you know you’re in this rodeo for the long run.

Want more Frat Cowboy Bob? Hang out with Bob From Pi Kapp!

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kunareads · 6 days ago

Text

worst behavior

sukuna x reader

sukuna doesn't just like to argue with you. he likes to lose.

masterlist

wc: 5.7k

this is 5.7k words of straight porn. IN MY DEFENSE, i think about being mean to him everyday.

content: friend!sukuna, smut!!! kissing, dom-ish reader (not the whole time)? oral (f! and m! receiving), fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v sex, choking, some overstimulation, gagging (she stuffs her panties in his mouth call it what you want), reader wants to strangle him lowkey

18+ please i block children <3

the cabin hums with warmth, the scent of firewood and something sweet drifting through the air. outside, snow blankets the trees, and cold wind howls against the windows. inside, easy laughter and the comfortable chaos of a weekend ski trip. the kind of night that makes you glad you came along.

sukuna arrives late, kicking the door open with a gust of icy air. He drops his bag like he owns the place. he tracks snow inside, ignoring complaints, slings an arm over the couch, and gives you this stupid look like he's waiting for you to say something. so you do.

you tell him to shut the fuck up before he even has the chance to speak, and his grin only widens, eyes glinting with something sharper than amusement.

it doesn't stop there. over the weekend, he lingers in your space, testing your patience with a practiced ease. he blocks your view of the tv until you kick him. he interrupts you mid-sentence just to get a reaction. he bumps into you, unnecessary and on purpose, his hand catching your waist for a second too long before he steps back with a grin like he's daring you to push him harder.

you do. you bite back every time with sharp words, sharper looks. and each time, his smirk turns lazy, satisfied.

it's not just teasing. it's calculated. the way he watches your mouth when you argue. the way his voice drops when he gets close like he knows exactly what he's doing.

you don't plan to give him the satisfaction.

+++

the cabin is quieter now. most of the group has dispersed to their rooms or sprawled out in the living room. the only sounds are the faint creak of floorboards under your socks and the low hum of the refrigerator as you rummage for snacks.

you're barely two bites into a cookie when you hear a familiar chuckle.

"midnight cravings?"

you glance up as sukuna strolls into the kitchen, moving with his typical cockiness. he's ditched his hoodie, leaving his tattoos exposed under a plain black t-shirt that fits a little too well.

"something like that," you say, narrowing your eyes as he steps closer. "shouldn't you be asleep?"

"couldn't sleep," he replies casually as he reaches past you, unnecessarily, into the cabinet. his arm brushes against yours, just enough for you to feel the warmth of his skin. your breath catches before you can stop it. sukuna notices.

"do you mind?" you ask, crossing your arms.

"not at all," he says, watching you, amused as he leans against the counter across from you. he doesn't take his eyes off you as he opens the cookie package, inspecting the contents.

"you're insufferable," you mutter, shaking your head.

he chuckles at your expression, and then, just to be an ass, he reaches out, plucks the cookie from your hand, and takes a bite.

you stare at him, speechless. then irritation bubbles up, hot and sharp. "you—"

"—shouldn't eat so much sugar this late?" he finishes smoothly, chewing like he's enjoying himself. "i know. just looking out for you."

"you're a nightmare."

his gaze flickers to your mouth. "you like it."

you feel the air shift.

it's not the first time he's looked at you like this, but it feels different tonight. charged. his grin sharpens each time you snap at him, like he's feeding off it.

"you've messing with me all weekend," you say, sharply. "why?"

"i like the way you look at me when you're pissed," he shrugs. "nothing else like it."

your stomach flips.

"what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"exactly what it sounds like," he says, his voice low.

the casual way he says it makes your pulse quicken. you hate how your body reacts to him. hate that you're noticing the way his voice dips lower, the way the air between you feels warmer.

"you're so full of yourself, sukuna," you mutter, shaking your head.

"i've been called worse."

you should end this here. roll your eyes and walk away. instead, you stay rooted in place, staring him down.

and sukuna, predictably, steps closer.

he's obviously baiting you. but there's something real under his teasing now, something undeniable in the way his gaze drops to your lips.

your instinct is to push him back, to say something biting. but you don't. you tilt your chin up, refusing to back down.

his fingers curl at your hips.

"tell me to stop," he says, his voice softer now.

you don't.

his smirk sharpens just slightly. "that's what i thought."

then he kisses you.

it's slow at first, like he's savoring the moment. his mouth moves against yours, teasing, testing. until you pull him closer, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him against you.

and his composure breaks.

sukuna growls against your lips, his hands tightening on your waist as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing into yours, pinning you against the counter. he bites your bottom lip, then soothes the sting with his tongue, a low groan escaping his throat when you slide your fingers into his hair.

you're both too lost in it to notice the footsteps approaching.

choso's voice cuts through the haze, flat and unimpressed. "please don't fuck in the kitchen."

you break apart instantly, your heart slamming against your ribs. sukuna, to his credit, barely looks fazed. his chest rises and falls heavily, his lips red and swollen, but he meets choso's stare without flinching.

"then get the fuck out," he says, voice rough.

when choso exits, grabbing the bag of chips he came for, there's silence.

then, sukuna turns back to you, grinning.

"my room. five minutes," you tell him.

his eyes flicker with something dark, his grin sharpening at the edges. "five minutes?"

you tilt your head, unbothered. "if you're not there, i'm taking care of myself."

for the first time this weekend, sukuna hesitates. he exhales deeply, looks at you for a second longer, and then he grins, slow and wolfish.

"five minutes."

+++

you shut the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment. the heat in your body hasn't cooled, not even close. if anything, it's harder to ignore now.

you don't rush. you glance around the room instead, fixing little things. you smooth the blanket, push your bag further under the bed, move a hoodie that's not even in the way.

you glance at the clock. two minutes left. a smile tugs at your lips. can he even last that long?

then the door creaks open. sukuna steps inside, shutting it behind him with an almost lazy push. early.

you sit on the edge of the bed and let the silence stretch a bit. "you're early."

he leans against the door, smirk lazy but his stance tense, coiled. waiting. "got impatient," he says, voice low. already making excuses.

your lips twitch. figures.

you tilt your head, watching him. he doesn't move closer. just stands there, gaze lingering on your face like he's waiting for something.

"well?" you murmur. "you made it. what now?"

his smirk lingers, but there's something darker there. "i was hoping you'd tell me."

"shouldn't you already know?" you muse. "considering how long you've been thinking about this."

his eyes flick to your mouth before settling back on your eyes. "maybe." a pause. "but i like the way you handle things."

you hum, letting your nails drag lightly down his chest. his breath stills. "then lock the door."

he doesn't hesitate. the click echoes in the silence before he crosses over to stand in front of you.

"bossy looks good on you," he murmurs.

your lips curl. "i'll keep that in mind."

you trace your fingers up his torso, watching the way his muscles twitch beneath your touch.

"what do you want, sukuna?" you ask, voice soft but firm.

his grin sharpens, his breathing unsteady. "depends on what you're offering."

a challenge.

your pulse thrums at the thought. he's giving you an opening, one you would've made for your self had he not offered.

you rise from the bed, tilting your chin up to hold his gaze. he observes you, the edges of his lips still curled as usual, but there's something else there now. his breath has slowed, his body tense, waiting.

"how bad do you want it?" you ask, fingers tracing a slow line along his jaw.

he squirms a bit beneath your touch. "bad," he answers, his voice already rough.

your lips twitch. of course, he does.

"then do what i say," you murmur, letting your fingers trail down his neck, pressing lightly a the base of his throat. you feel his exhale stutter.

his expression doesn't waver, but you feel the way his body reacts. his shoulders are tight, chest rising slow and deep, pulse pounding against your fingers as he moves to hold your hips.

"hands off," you say, your voice quiet but firm. "if you can't keep them to yourself, we're done."

there's a flicker of something in his eyes, maybe defiance or pride. restraint. but after a moment, he drops his hands to his sides.

"now," you say, your voice calculated. "get on the bed."

the flicker of hesitation is gone just as fast as it came. he obeys, sinking onto the edge of the bed, leaning back on his elbows, his legs spread just enough to make something hot coil in your stomach.

"take off your shirt."

"yes, ma'am," he says, smile widening.

you roll your eyes. "don't push it."

he pulls the fabric over his head and tosses it aside. his tattoos stand out stark against his skin, broad shoulders tapering into lean muscle.

you step forward, dragging a finger down the center of his chest, feeling the sharp inhale he takes at your touch.

"you look good like this," you murmur, watching his muscles twitch beneath your fingers.

his throat bobs when you trace over his ribs, his jaw going tight. "i'd look better with you on top of me."

"not yet," you hum.

his smirk falters just slightly, impatience creeping in. his hands flex against the sheets. he wants to touch you.

good.

you hook a finger under his chin, forcing him to meet your eyes. "you like following orders, sukuna?"

he inhales sharply, but he doesn't look away.

"…yeah," he admits. then, after a beat, softer, "from you."

your stomach tightens. you knew, but hearing it out loud sends heat curling through you.

"then be good," you say, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip. "and follow directions."

for once, he doesn't act smart. he just nods, slow and a little dazed.

you drop to your knees, settling between his legs. a sharp inhale rattles his chest. he doesn't move, doesn't reach for you. his hands stay at his sides, fingers twitching against the sheets.

"tell me if you want me to stop," you murmur, dragging your nails lightly up his thighs, just barely touching him.

he swallows hard. "i'll let you know."

you press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to his abdomen, just above the waistband of his sweatpants. his stomach tenses beneath your lips.

"fuck," he mutters under his breath, his hands gripping the sheets.

you smirk. he's trying so hard to keep still for you.

"you're really fucking hard," you muse, pressing a soft kiss over the fabric of his pants.

his hips twitch slightly as he inhales, trying to be patient. "you're a fucking tease."

"i know."

you palm him through the fabric, slow and deliberate. he tenses, a low groan slipping free.

"what do you want?" you ask, deceptively sweet.

"i want your fucking mouth," he grits out, his hips pressing against your hand despite himself.

you snap the waistband of his pants, smiling. "ask nicely."

he huffs. he's stubborn. for a moment, his pride nearly wins. but when you slide your hand up his length, teasing, his resolve crumbles.

"please."

"please, what?"

a beat. his breath is shaky now. "please, put your fucking mouth on me."

"good boy."

his whole body tenses at that, his dick twitching, but you don't give him a second to dwell.

"take them off," you order.

he lifts his hips to shove his sweatpants down. his boxers go with them and his dick springs free, flushed and leaking. desperate.

you meet his gaze as you press a kiss to his base, dragging your tongue along his shaft. his abs tense, a soft sigh slipping free.

"fuck," he mutters, wrecked already.

"sensitive," you hum.

his hips jerk when you take him in. his response is immediate—a sharp inhale, a low, desperate groan. his hips twitch, but he forces himself still.

"fuck, just like that," he rasps, his voice strained.

you set the pace, hollowing your cheeks, working him slow, letting him feel every flick of your tongue, every shift of pressure. his breathing turns ragged, his body tight with restraint.

you pull off slightly, a thin string of spit connecting your lips to him. his jaw locks, his hands grasping at the sheets tighter.

still watching him, you let your spit drip onto his length, slow and messy.

his whole body clenches, his dick flexing against his stomach. "fuck." his voice almost shakes.

you use your hand to spread it, twisting your wrist as you stroke him. he's flushed, completely at your mercy now.

"look at you," you coo, watching the way he reacts. "all worked up, and i've barely done anything."

he groans at that, his hips rolling involuntarily.

"you're gonna be good for me, right?" you tease, continuing your movements.

"yeah." it's barely a whisper.

you take him back into your mouth, swallowing him deeper. he shudders, letting out a moan. "so fucking good," he groans.

then his hand tangles in your hair, instinctive and desperate. you pull away instantly, releasing him with a soft pop.

he whines. an honest, sharp, needy whine. his hips jerk involuntarily. "fuck, what—"

"what did i tell you?" you ask, arching a brow.

his jaw clenches. "shit."

"if you can't follow directions, we're done," you say, your voice firm.

"please don't," he groans, dick twitching against his stomach, desperate.

"then behave."

you lean in, licking a slow stripe up his length before sucking him deep. his whole body shudders.

"fuck," he gasps, voice breaking.

you work him harder now, your pace quick and steady, your hand stroking his base as you take him deeper. his moans are distraught, raw.

"shit, i'm close," he warns, his voice wrecked. you only hum, the vibrations making him shudder.

"fuck, please, fuck—"

his body locks up, and then he's gone. his dick pulses as he spills onto your tongue. a deep, broken moan rips from his chest, his fingers twisting into the sheets as he shudders through it.

you swallow every drop, sucking him through the aftershocks. he twitches, his breathing uneven, thighs shaking beneath your hands. "fuck," he mutters.

you pull back slowly, dragging your tongue over his tip one last time before sitting up. you tilt your head, watching him recover. "you look good like this."

his lips twitch. "yeah?"

you hum, trailing a finger along his cheek, tilting his chin so he meets your gaze.

you know he's still recovering, but that doesn't mean you're done with him.

+++

sukuna sinks back against the mattress, arms lax at his sides, his chest still rising and falling unevenly. his eyes are heavy-lidded, his lips slightly parted, but his smirk is back.

you tilt your head, observing him.

"tapping out already?" you muse, letting your fingers trace his ribs.

his muscles twitch under your touch, but his grin sharpens. even now, ruined and spent, he has the nerve to look cocky.

"not a fucking chance."

he shifts, watching as you stand, as you move toward the dresser and hook your thumbs under the waistband of your shorts, sliding them down slowly.

by the time you're fully bare, sukuna is staring.

"fuck," he whispers, the word slipping out before he can catch it.

you let him have the moment. let him drink you in, let him feel the anticipation build until it's suffocating him.

then you tilt your head at him. "get on your knees, sukuna."

for a split second, something like hesitation flickers in his expression. then it's gone.

he slides off the bed, moving to where you are and sinking to his knees before you. his breath is warm against your skin, you watch his his hands flex.

"can i touch you?" he asks, his voice rough.

you tilt his chin up slightly. "ask nicely."

his jaw tightens in frustration, his pride clearly hanging by a thread. he licks his lips, blows out a breath, and gives in. "please."

you hum in consideration before threading your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make him inhale sharply. "you can touch me."

his hands snap up instantly, holding your thighs, fingers pressing into them like he's been starving for it. his lips part, his breath warm and hot, and he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the inside of your knee.

it's so different from how he usually is, calculated and cocky. he takes his time, committing it to memory, dragging his mouth higher, higher, each kiss heavier than the last.

you exhale softly as his hands slide up, parting your legs, his movements careful. he's waiting for you to pull him closer.

"don't tease me," you murmur, your voice coming out softer than you intended.

he smirks against your skin, teeth grazing your inner thigh. "go ahead. stop me."

you grab his hair, tilting his head up, forcing him to meet your eyes. "watch your fucking mouth, sukuna."

he falters, just slightly, but there's something fierce in his gaze now. "let me keep going."

you nod, anticipation coiling inside you.

his fingers part you, a quiet sigh escaping as his eyes land on your core. he licks a broad stripe along your slit, and a shudder rolls through you.

his tongue moves slowly at first, savoring, like he's learning you. his groan is low, vibrating through you.

his restraint is obvious in the way his grip on you lingers rather than bruises, in the way his exhale stutters against your skin. he's holding back.

you tug lightly at his hair, testing. he whimpers. "don't hold out on me," you murmur, breathless.

he exhales sharply, his fingers flexing as he finally gives in. he moves with purpose, licking through your slick before his lips close around your clit, sucking, pulling a gasp from your throat.

sukuna groans, guttural, and it hits you. he's starving for this.

heat floods through you. he wants you so bad. his fingers moving up to your hips, his desperation obvious in the way he works you, messy and unhinged.

you tip your head back, breath ragged, hands threading through his hair.

"fuck, you're so good," you murmur. you feel him moan. a deep, broken sound muffled by the way he's devouring you.

he growls against you, his hands flexing, and then—

you're moving.

he sets you onto the dresser with an ease that makes your stomach flip.

your back hits the mirror, the cool glass biting into your skin, a shocking contrast to the heat of his mouth. you blink down at him, dazed.

he grins against your skin.

"what the fuck do you think you're doing?" you snap, but there's no bite to it.

his lips brush your inner thigh, his breath hot against you. "shh," he murmurs, licking higher. "let me have some fun."

you should shove him off. push him back. say something mean.

instead, you spread your legs wider.

he sighs, drunk on the sight of you.

his mouth is back on you quickly, lapping through your slick, his grip bruising now, holding you open.

"fuck," you gasp, writhing under him at the way he works you.

he groans like he's getting off on this, and then you feel his fingers press against your entrance.

"you taste so fucking good," he mutters, voice muffled as a thrill rushes through you

"sukuna—"

he pushes in, slow and deep, and your composure shatters.

his fingers curl immediately, perfectly, pressing into the spot that makes you jerk against his mouth.

he chuckles against you, dark and satisfied. "that's it," he mutters. "take it."

his pace is measured, his fingers stretching you open, pushing deeper, fucking you slow and devastating.

his mouth never stops. his tongue flicks against your clit, matching the rhythm of his fingers, and pleasure coils tight in your stomach.

"fuck, you're squeezing me," he mutters, his voice thick with awe.

you grind against his face, basically riding his fingers now, and he lets you.

"so needy," he teases.

"shut up and keep going," you pant, your whole body trembling.

his pace quickens. his fingers stroke, curl, push, driving you higher. you sit up straighter, your breath catching, your nails digging into his scalp.

his eyes flick up to yours, burning. hungry.

"don't look away," he rasps. it sounds like a plea. "tell me how good it feels."

"sukuna—"

"tell me," he growls, the sound vibrating against your core.

"so fucking good," you moan, pleasure mounting. "it feels so fucking good."

your orgasm hits fast, pleasure splintering through you, your body arching, tightening, breaking apart.

sukuna moans, licking you through it, his fingers fucking you through every second.

"fuck—" your thighs tremble, your hands clutching at his hair, trying to pull away.

it's too much. too much.

but he just tightens his grip, locking you in place, still working, pushing you deeper.

"sukuna," you plead.

he knows. he can feel the way you tremble, can hear your sharp inhale, can feel the way your thighs try to clamp around his head.

but he doesn't let up.

"you can take it."

"fuck." your legs shake. "wait—"

he sucks your clit into his mouth again, harder, his fingers pushing deeper, curling just right.

the heat coils too fast, too intense. you whine, your nails scrape the mirror behind you.

"sukuna, i—"

he groans, dragging his tongue through your slick, addicted.

"c'mon, sweetheart. let go."

your whole body tenses. teetering. and then the tension snaps.

you gush. your hips jerk violently, pleasure ripping through you as you soak his face, his hands, the dresser beneath you.

"oh, fuck—"

sukuna growls, holding you open, watching, taking in every second. he looks drunk, reverent. his fingers keep stroking, slower now, dragging out every aftershock.

"fuck, baby, you're still going."

your head tips back helplessly, your thighs twitching. he licks you through it, relishing every drop.

"look at you," he hums, his voice thick. "full of surprises."

he presses a soft kiss to your thigh, sucking a mark there, claiming you before he leans back, staring at you like he's never seen anything as beautiful.

you watch as he pulls back fully, that hungry look still on his face. his hands tense at his sides like he's fighting the urge to pull you back on him.

"get up," you murmur, your voice light.

he meets your eyes. you see the flicker of hesitation, but he obeys, pushing himself up. his gaze is heavy as you move slowly off the dresser and toward the bed, as you grab your panties from where they were previously discarded.

"come lie down."

you watch him settle with his back against the headboard, his dick hard and leaking against his stomach.

"i want you to be quiet, sukuna."

his eyes flicker with something darker. hungrier.

you ball up your panties. "open your mouth."

his lips part before he can even think about it. you press the soaked fabric between them, stuffing it into his mouth.

"like i said," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "don't make a sound."

he's looking at you like you hung the stars, his dick twitching underneath you.

you hold his shoulders to lift yourself up, and when you sink down onto him slowly, his whole body trembles.

he moves immediately, almost desperately, his hands gripping your waist, sliding up your back, pressing you against him. his face buries into your chest, his breath hot against your skin.

you cradle his head between your arms, running your fingers through his hair, allowing it. allowing him.

you roll your hips, testing, feeling the way his jaw clenches like he's physically biting down a sound. his whole body jerks, his forehead moving to press against your shoulder as he breathes through his nose, sharp and uneven.

"you can hold on, can't you?"

he nods, but it's shaky.

you smirk, dragging your nails down his back, feeling his muscles ripple beneath your hands. you start a rhythm, grinding against him slowly.

his nails dig into your back. you can feel it. he's breaking. he's clinging to you, his hold desperate, his body taut with restraint. he needs to hold it together for you.

"mm," you hum, rolling your hips. "you're doing so good for me. such a good boy, sukuna."

his whole body tenses at the praise. his grip tightens. and then you pick up the pace, riding him faster, harder, feeling him tremble beneath you.

his arms lock around you, his body shaking with the effort to keep quiet as you bounce in his lap. he's struggling.

"don't break," you murmur against his temple, your nails dragging along his scalp. "i know you can take it."

his breath stutters, his hands clenching on you. but he's so quiet. until he isn't.

a deep, muffled groan breaks through the fabric in his mouth.

you immediately stop moving. his whole body goes tense.

his fingers dig into your skin, panicked like he already knows what's coming.

you grip his jaw, forcing his head back against the headboard, making him look at you. his eyes snap open. he looks distressed. undone.

you drag your thumb across his bottom lip, watching the way his eyes close as his face follows the movement.

"you just couldn't help yourself, could you?"

he looks up at you, something dangerous flashing across his features.

you roll your hips again, just slightly, to punish him.

his chest rises fast beneath you. you watch his jaw tighten, his throat bobbing. then, with a slow, deliberate tilt of his head, he spits the fabric onto the mattress.

before you can even speak, his tongue flicks out, swiping over your thumb, sucking it into his mouth. he wants to give you a second to process, to feel the shift. but he can't. his patience is gone.

his grip on you tightens fast. in one sharp motion, you're flipped on your stomach, hips lifted into the air.

his hand settles firmly on the back of your neck, holding you there.

"stay down," he murmurs. "so fuckin' pretty like this."

he drags his knuckles down your back, along your thigh, but he doesn't touch you where you need him.

a shiver runs through you, frustration and arousal curling in your stomach, but you don't fight him, don't say anything.

"been teasing me all night," he mutters, his voice low, sharp, cutting through you. "think it's cute to test me?"

you try to lift your head to answer him, but his hand presses firmer against your neck, pushing you back down into the mattress.

you suck in a breath, your pulse thrumming, anticipation curling tight inside you.

his grip locks onto your hips. one pull and he's all the way inside you. your cry is instant at the stretch, the way he fills you all at once. "fuck," he says, his voice dark. "there she is."

he holds you tight, his breath uneven. for a moment, he just stays there, buried inside you, feeling you flex around him.

then he pulls back, almost all the way out, before slamming into you again.

your fingers claw at the sheets, a sharp gasp ripping through your throat.

his chuckle is dark, satisfied. "that's what the fuck i thought."

he sets a brutal pace, deep thrusts knocking the air from your lungs. his hand tightens at the back of your neck, keeping you pressed into the mattress, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts.

he's holding you there like he's afraid to let go. his voice is rough against your skin. "fuck, baby—"

you whimper as he slams into you again. your whole body arches at the feeling, heat licking at the base of your spine.

his hand slides down, fingers wrapping around your throat, pulling you up against him. his lips press against the shell of your ear, his breath hot, chest heaving against your back.

"feel so good like this," he murmurs, almost in awe of you. "taking me so well, sweetheart."

you moan and shudder, reaching back and digging your nails into his bicep, your head tilting back against his shoulder.

his other arm tightens around your waist like he can't bear to have any space between you.

"you're so fucking sexy," he exhales, his voice thick with something real. "been thinking about you all fucking weekend."

his next thrust is deep, punishing.

you cry out and his hand moves instantly. not to restrain you, but to cradle your throat and jaw, tilting your chin back so he can kiss you.

it's hungry, desperate. his teeth catch at your lip, his tongue sweeping into our mouth, his groan low as he drinks you in.

"tell me you want this," he murmurs, voice thick.

you clench around him, your breath breaking. your brain doesn't process exactly what he said, just that he wants you to speak. so you do.

"you're so fucking deep inside me, 'kuna," you gasp, your voice raw. "want you to fill me up, please keep fucking me, don't stop—"

he groans loudly, his hand on your throat tightening, his restraint cracking completely.

"fucking hell," he mutters, like he's about to lose himself, like you've just broken him.

"please," you gasp, your voice breaking, "want it, give it to me, make me cum on your dick—"

sukuna snaps.

"my god—"

his pace turns merciless, his hand moving from your waist to press on your lower stomach, his thrusts hitting deeper, harder, chasing the high that's so close you can taste it.

your eyes squeeze shut, a cry slipping from your lips.

"so fucking good, sweetheart," he mutters, his voice feverish. "you're taking me so well, so perfect—"

his hand slides lower, rubbing tight, perfect circles around your clit.

his pace stays punishing, long, sharp thrusts that make your whole body tense.

"fuck," you gasp, your voice breaking.

he feels it the second it happens.

your whole body tenses, your walls clenching down on him so hard it nearly makes him stutter.

"fucking cum all over my dick, baby," he mutters, his voice thick. "god, look at you."

he doesn't stop. your legs tremble violently, pleasure slamming into you in sharp, rolling waves.

he fucks you through it, not slowing, dragging it out until it's unbearable.

"sh-shit, sukuna—"

your thighs snap shut around his hand, trying to push him away, too sensitive.

"fuck, you're still cumming, huh?" he murmurs, his voice ruined.

you can't stop trembling, gasping, the aftershocks still rippling through you.

he groans loudly, burying himself deep.

"fuck—fuck, take it," he groans, his own orgasm barreling into him.

his breath catches, and his body tenses hard as he spills inside you, his sigh rough and satisfying against your ear.

the air between you is thick with heat as you both come down, your breaths ragged and uneven, bodies drenched in sweat. sukuna stays inside you for a long moment, his weight solid and grounding, his forehead pressed against the curve of your shoulder.

neither of you speak at first.

your heartbeat is still erratic, your body still trembling slightly, every muscle loose.

his hands soften, wrapping around your torso as he holds you to him, feeling your short, uneven breaths. he exhales, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. soft. reverent.

"breathe, baby," he murmurs, voice quiet now. "i got you."

you close your eyes for a second, exhaling and letting yourself melt into him. a long moment passes.

then, slowly, he pulls out, the loss making you hiss. you barely have time to process his absence before he lays you down and the bed shifts. your eyes flicker open as he disappears to the bathroom.

you just hum softly, too exhausted to move, stretching your legs out and feeling the faint ache between your thighs.

you feel a little dazed, like your brain hasn't quite caught up yet.

the mattress shifts again, and a cool, damp towel presses between your thighs.

"jesus—" you flinch slightly at the sudden temperature change, but sukuna just huffs a quiet laugh.

"hold still," he mutters, his touch careful. you blink at him, surprised.

"didn't take you for the aftercare type," you tease, your voice softer than usual.

his lips twitch, his brows furrowing slightly, but he doesn't fire back immediately.

"yeah, well," he mutters after a pause, tossing the towel aside and settling beside you. "for you, i am."

you study him for a beat. the tension is gone from his body now, the sharp edges of him softer in the low light. his fingers graze your cheek, his eyes lingering on the redness at your neck.

"you okay?" he asks, quieter.

he watches you for a second, smiling softly when you nod.

you feel warm and content, the weight of exhaustion starting to pull you under. your eyes slip shut just as he shifts closer, his arm draping lazily over your waist.

+++

you wake up to warmth, to soreness, to sukuna's arm heavy around your waist. for a moment, you just lie there, the weight of last night settling over you all at once.

you sit up abruptly when reality kicks in, ignoring the ache in your legs. sukuna grunts in protest, burying his face into the pillow.

"relax," he mutters, his voice thick with sleep. "no one cares."

but once you're both dressed and stepping into the kitchen, you know he's full of shit.

conversations pause.

gojo is the first to look up, grinning like a menace. "oh, look who's finally gracing us with their presence."

you groan.

utahime hums over her coffee, "sleep well?"

"we heard everything," yuki deadpans.

choso barely looks up. "cover each other's mouths or something next time."

your face burns. behind you, sukuna strolls in like he owns the place, reaching for the coffee pot like nothing happened.

"you guys are acting like you're surprised."

"oh, we knew," gojo says. "just didn't think it'd take this long."

your glare could kill. "don't start."

gojo just grins, all teeth. "whatever you say, sweetheart."

and then, to your horror, he winks.

236 notes · View notes

memorabxlia · 14 days ago

Text

Naughty List ━ 정원

genre: fluff, smut featuring: all of enhypen (except ni-ki) summary: you and Jungwon share a passionate, daring encounter, driven by the risk of being caught. warnings: exhibitionism, voyeurism, oral, unprotected sex (wrap up irl!) most defintely forgot something pairing: fwb!jungwon x fem!reader wc: 3.8k a/n: DAY 6!!! nets: @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

The sweet, nostalgic scent of cinnamon and nutmeg wafts through your house as you dart from one corner to the other, making sure everything is perfect. Twinkling fairy lights drape over the windows, and the warm glow of candles reflects off the shiny ornaments on the tree. You've spent all week preparing for this party. Every detail has been planned, from the hand-labeled stockings on the mantle for each guest to the playlist of upbeat Christmas classics that you've carefully curated to keep the energy alive.

This wasn’t just any holiday party; it was the holiday party, and your nerves buzzed with excitement and something else you didn’t want to admit. Jungwon would be here.

As you adjusted the plates of cookies and appetizers on the table for the third time, you caught yourself glancing at the clock. The time ticked closer to the arrival of your guests, and you felt that familiar flutter in your chest. You and Jungwon had been toeing the line between friendship and something more for weeks now. Late-night texts, stolen glances, and lingering touches had become your norm. Yet, you hadn’t told anyone—not even his closest friends. Tonight would be a challenge, especially since it meant keeping your cool with all of them in one place.

The doorbell rang, snapping you out of your thoughts. You smoothed down your sweater and hurried to the door.

“Hey!” Heeseung’s familiar grin greeted you as he held up a grocery bag filled with snacks. “Hope you don’t mind. We raided a convenience store on the way over.”

“Not at all,” you said, stepping aside to let him in. Behind him, Jake and Sunoo juggled trays of food, while Jay struggled with a box that looked suspiciously like it held board games.

“This is great!” Sunoo exclaimed, stepping into the living room and immediately pulling out his phone to snap pictures of the decorations. “You really went all out!”

“Yeah, it’s like something out of a Pinterest board,” Jay added, dropping his box onto the coffee table. “How long did this take you?”

“Let’s just say I’ve been busy,” you replied, laughing nervously as you moved to help Jake unload a tray of homemade brownies.

“Where’s Sunghoon?” you asked, realizing you hadn’t seen him yet.

“Still outside,” Jake said, nodding toward the door. “He’s taking his sweet time analyzing your wreath. I think he’s trying to figure out if it’s real.”

You rolled your eyes, but sure enough, Sunghoon strolled in a moment later, his sharp features scrunched in concentration. “It’s fake, right?” he asked, pointing to the wreath.

“It’s real, actually,” you said, closing the door behind him.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Huh. Impressive.”

Before you could respond, the sound of another car pulling up caught your attention. Your heart skipped a beat as you peeked out the window. Sure enough, it was Jungwon. He got out of the car, pulling a bag from the passenger seat, his casual outfit of a knit sweater and jeans making him look effortlessly put together.

When he stepped inside, his eyes immediately found yours. He gave you a small smile that sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Need help with anything?”

You shook your head quickly, trying not to let your face betray how flustered you felt. “No, I’m good. Just… make yourself at home.”

His gaze lingered for a second longer before he nodded and joined the others in the living room.

The evening kicked off with ease. The house was alive with laughter and the hum of conversation as everyone settled in. Jake and Sunghoon were quick to commandeer the console for a heated game of Mario Kart, their shouts of victory and defeat echoing through the room. Meanwhile, Heeseung and Jay argued over which playlist to switch to next, both stubbornly insisting their music taste was superior.

Sunoo was busy taking selfies and documenting every angle of the decorations, marveling at the effort you’d put into making the house look festive.

“Seriously,” he said, holding up his phone to show you one of his photos. “This is so aesthetic. I’m tagging you in this!”

“Thanks, Sunoo,” you replied with a laugh, but your attention kept drifting back to Jungwon.

He was sitting on the couch, chatting with Heeseung, but every now and then, you caught his gaze flickering toward you. Each time, your heart would do that annoying little flutter, and you’d have to look away quickly before anyone noticed.

But you weren’t the only one sneaking glances. As you carried a tray of drinks to the coffee table, you felt Jungwon’s eyes on you. It was subtle—just a split second too long—but enough to make your cheeks flush.

“Everything okay?” Jake asked, pulling you out of your thoughts as he reached for a drink.

“Yeah, of course,” you said quickly, hoping you didn’t sound as flustered as you felt.

As the evening wore on, the house grew warmer with the energy of the group. Sunoo’s playlist had transitioned into a mix of Christmas pop songs, and Jay had broken out a stack of board games. Everyone was laughing, debating rules, and throwing playful insults across the room.

But no matter how lively the atmosphere was, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Jungwon’s presence. It wasn’t just that he was there—it was the way your body seemed hyper-aware of his every move, his every glance. And, judging by the way his gaze lingered when he thought no one was watching, he felt it too.

Little did you know, your not-so-subtle staring wasn’t going unnoticed. It wasn’t long before your subtle (or maybe not-so-subtle) glances started to catch up with you. The evening was in full swing, the hum of laughter and conversation filling the room as the group dove into yet another round of heated Mario Kart matches. Jungwon had been sitting on the edge of the couch, his posture relaxed but his gaze focused—not on the screen, but on you.

By the time the game ended, you excused yourself to the kitchen to refill the punch bowl, using the task as a chance to cool down your racing thoughts. You poured the cranberry mixture carefully, letting the sweet, tart scent fill the air.

“Staring is rude, you know,” a familiar voice teased from behind you, nearly making you drop the pitcher.

You turned quickly, meeting Jungwon’s amused expression as he leaned casually against the counter. His arms were crossed, and the corners of his lips were tugged into a smirk that only he could pull off.

“I wasn’t staring,” you replied, trying—and failing—to sound indifferent.

“Oh?” He tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “Then what would you call it?”

“Observing,” you said, clutching the pitcher as if it would shield you from the heat crawling up your neck.

“Observing?” he repeated, his voice soft but laced with amusement. He took a slow step closer, his presence suddenly making the kitchen feel much smaller. “You’ve been ‘observing’ me all night, then.”

Your mouth opened to reply, but nothing came out. Instead, you crossed your arms and met his gaze, determined not to let him get the upper hand. “You’ve been staring too,” you countered, narrowing your eyes.

He chuckled, the sound low and smooth. “Maybe I have.” His tone dropped slightly, the teasing edge giving way to something warmer, more genuine. “It’s hard not to when you look so…”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to finish. “So what?”

“Distracting,” he said simply, his eyes never leaving yours.

The word hung in the air between you, heavy with implications that neither of you dared to address. Your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you in this tiny kitchen.

Before either of you could say something you couldn’t take back, the sound of footsteps approaching snapped you out of it.

“There you are!” Sunoo’s cheerful voice rang out as he appeared in the doorway. “What are you two doing in here?”

“Refilling the punch,” you said quickly, stepping back and turning your attention to the bowl.

Sunoo’s eyes darted between the two of you, his brow furrowing slightly before he broke into a grin. “Well, you’re needed in the living room. Heeseung says it’s karaoke time, and we’re all doing duets.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow at you, his expression shifting back to its usual calm demeanor. “Guess we’re up.”

When you walked into the living room, the energy was buzzing. Heeseung was already at the microphone, belting out an exaggerated rendition of "All I Want for Christmas Is You" while the others clapped and laughed along.

“Perfect timing!” Heeseung exclaimed when he spotted you. “You two are up next.”

“What?” you said, glancing at the screen where the list of queued songs was displayed. Your stomach flipped when you saw the title of the next track. It was that song—the one you and Jungwon had claimed as yours during one of your late-night hangouts. The one you’d sung to each other under your breaths, just the two of you.

Jungwon froze for a moment, his expression betraying a flicker of recognition before he masked it with his usual calm. He reached for one of the microphones and handed the other to you, his fingers brushing yours briefly.

“Guess we don’t have a choice,” he said, his voice steady but his gaze lingering on you.

The opening chords of the song played, and the room quieted as everyone turned their attention to you. You felt your palms grow clammy as you clutched the microphone, but when Jungwon started singing, your nerves eased—just a little.

His voice was smooth and rich, carrying the melody effortlessly. It was unfair how good he was at this. When it was your turn to join in, you took a deep breath and began to sing. The words felt heavier than usual, filled with meanings you couldn’t voice but couldn’t ignore either.

As the song progressed, the rest of the room faded away. Jungwon stepped closer, his eyes locked on yours, and it was like you were the only two people there. The harmonies wove together naturally, each note drawing you closer.

By the time the final chorus came around, you were barely aware of the others watching. The lyrics felt personal, like a confession disguised in melody, and Jungwon’s voice seemed to carry the same weight.

When the song ended, the room erupted into applause, pulling you back to reality.

“That was intense,” Jay said, his tone teasing but his expression curious.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon added, leaning back on the couch with a smirk. “Almost too intense. Anything you two want to share?”

You laughed nervously, shaking your head. “We’re just good at singing together, that’s all.”

Jungwon didn’t say anything, but you could feel his gaze on you as Heeseung jumped in to change the subject, suggesting the next duet pair.

By the time the night began winding down, the house was a scene of happy chaos. Crumpled wrapping paper littered the floor, stray glasses and plates sat on every available surface, and the once-neat tray of cookies had been reduced to a few scattered crumbs. The energy had mellowed, and one by one, the boys began to retreat upstairs to the guest rooms, their voices and footsteps echoing faintly as they disappeared.

“Thanks for hosting,” Heeseung said, clapping you on the shoulder as he passed by. “This was perfect.”

“Yeah, your parties are always the best,” Jake added, stifling a yawn.

“Goodnight!” Sunoo called from the stairs, waving enthusiastically.

Soon, it was just Jungwon and you left in the living room. You glanced around at the mess and sighed. “Well, that’s what happens when you invite six guys over.”

Jungwon chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned against the back of the couch. “At least they had fun. Isn’t that what matters?”

“Easy for you to say,” you teased. “You’re not the one stuck cleaning up.”

“Oh, I think I am.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “We both lost rock-paper-scissors, remember?”

You groaned at the reminder, but deep down, you weren’t upset. Being alone with Jungwon, even if it meant cleaning up the aftermath of a Christmas party, wasn’t exactly a punishment.

You got to work, the silence between you broken only by the occasional clink of glasses and the rustle of trash bags. Jungwon started gathering the discarded wrapping paper, folding what could be reused and tossing the rest. You collected the empty cups and plates, stacking them precariously as you made trips to the kitchen.

“So,” he said after a while, his voice breaking the quiet. “You really went all out for this.”

You glanced over your shoulder to see him holding up a stocking you’d hand-labeled for each of them.

“I wanted it to feel special,” you admitted, shrugging. “Christmas is my favorite, and I guess I just wanted everyone to have a good time.”

“You definitely succeeded,” he said, his tone softer now. “It’s the little things, you know? You’re good at that—paying attention to details.”

Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten. You tried to brush it off, focusing on rinsing plates in the sink. “Well, I’m glad you noticed.”

“Oh, I notice a lot of things,” he said, his voice closer now.

You turned, finding him standing a few feet away, his gaze steady.

“Like what?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

His lips quirked into a small smile as he took a step closer. “Like how you’ve been avoiding looking at me all night.”

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” you protested weakly, even though it was a blatant lie.

He raised an eyebrow. “Right. And earlier, in the kitchen? That wasn’t you avoiding me either?”

You felt heat creep up your neck, and you tried to focus on drying a plate. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jungwon didn’t reply right away. Instead, he closed the remaining distance between you, his presence warm and steady. He reached out, gently taking the plate and towel from your hands and setting them on the counter.

“You don’t have to pretend,” he said softly. “Not with me.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in. His gaze held yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

“Jungwon…” you started, but whatever you were going to say disappeared as he leaned in.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if he were testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away, it deepened, his hands finding your waist as yours instinctively rested on his shoulders. The warmth of his lips, the faint scent of his cologne, the way he tilted his head slightly to fit against you perfectly—it was all intoxicating.

The kiss broke only when you both needed air, and even then, he didn’t pull far away. His forehead rested against yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and unsteady, against your skin.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

A laugh bubbled out of you, shaky but genuine. “Me too.”

Jungwon leaned back in, his lips finding mine with renewed intensity. The sound of his lips against you is soft but unmistakable, a wet, rhythmic hum that makes your thighs quiver. Jungwon’s hands grip your hips firmly, holding you in place as his tongue swirls and dips, teasing every sensitive inch of you. Your breath hitches, sharp and shallow, as you fight to keep quiet, knowing full well that the others are upstairs.

God, don’t do that. You’re going to make me go on Santa’s naughty list tonight. The thought flits through your mind, unbidden, as Jungwon moans softly into you, the vibration sending a shiver up your spine. His tongue flicks over just the right spot, and you bite down hard on your lip to stifle the cry threatening to escape.

“Jungwon,” you whisper again, your voice trembling with urgency. “Someone… someone could walk in.”

He pulls back slightly, his lips glistening as he looks up at you, his brown eyes dark and smoldering. “So?” he murmurs, his tone low and daring. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, mischief dancing across his features. “Let them catch us.”

Your cheeks burn at his words, but the heat pooling low in your belly only intensifies. He leans forward again, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, his fingers digging into your skin as if to say, You’re mine right now, and I don’t care who sees.

Before you can protest further, Jungwon stands abruptly, his height towering over you as he cups your face in his hands. His breath is warm against your lips as he whispers, “Take it all off. Everything.”

Your eyes widen, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he must hear it. “What?” you breathe, barely audible.

His hands slide down your shoulders, fingertips grazing the fabric of your top before slipping beneath it to trace the curve of your waist. “I said,” he repeats, his voice dropping even lower, “take it all off. Let’s give them something to talk about.”

The air between you feels charged, electric, as his words sink in. Part of you wants to resist, to laugh it off and pull away, but another part—deeper, more primal—thrums with anticipation. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you reach for the hem of your top, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. The cool air hits your skin, raising goosebumps as you stand before him, exposed and vulnerable.

Jungwon’s gaze rakes over you, hunger etched into every line of his face. His hand moves to your skirt, undoing the clasp and letting it fall to the floor in a pooled heap. Now, there’s nothing left but your bra and panties, both of which feel like far too much coverage under his intense stare.

“All of it,” he insists, his voice rough with desire.

Your fingers tremble as you reach behind your back to unhook your bra, the fabric sliding down your arms and joining the growing pile of discarded clothes. Jungwon watches intently, his breathing uneven as his hands land on your hips once more, guiding you backward until the edge of the counter digs into your lower back.

When you hesitate at your last remaining piece of clothing, Jungwon doesn’t wait. His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down slowly, deliberately, until they pool at your feet. You step out of them, your face burning as you stand completely bare before him, the weight of his gaze making your skin prickle with heat.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, his voice thick with admiration.

But then his expression shifts, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he steps back slightly, giving you space. “Now,” he says, his tone laced with challenge, “let’s see how long we can keep this going before someone walks in.”

The audacity of his suggestion leaves you momentarily speechless, but the thrill of it sends a jolt of excitement through you. Jungwon reaches for the button of his jeans, his movements slow and deliberate as he undoes them, pushing them down along with his boxers until he’s just as exposed as you are. His arousal is impossible to ignore, standing proud and demanding attention.

You swallow hard, your pulse racing as he steps closer, his chest brushing against yours. His hands cradle your face again, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as he leans in, his lips hovering just above yours.

“Tell me you want this,” he breathes, his voice barely audible.

And though your mind screams warnings about the others, about the risk of being caught, your body betrays you, leaning into him instinctively. “I want this,” you admit, the words spilling out in a rush.

That’s all the confirmation he needs. Jungwon crashes his lips against yours, the kiss deep and consuming, all hesitation melting away as his hands roam your body, exploring every dip and curve. When he lifts you onto the counter, the surface cool against your heated skin, you wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer.

The first press of him against you steals your breath, a gasp escaping your lips as he slides inside, filling you completely. Jungwon groans, his forehead resting against yours as he stills for a moment, savoring the sensation. Then, with a slow, deliberate thrust, he begins to move, each stroke drawing a quiet whimper from your throat.

“Quiet,” he murmurs against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “Unless you want them to hear.”

You bite your lip hard, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure builds, his rhythm steady and unrelenting. The risk of being caught only heightens the intensity, every sound beyond the room—the creak of footsteps, the murmur of voices—sending a jolt of adrenaline through you.

Jungwon’s pace quickens, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, as his hands grip your hips tightly, keeping you anchored to him. His name spills from your lips in a broken whisper, and he catches it with his mouth, swallowing the sound as his own breathing grows erratic.

“They could walk in any second,” he rasps, his voice strained with effort. “Imagine how it’d feel—knowing they’re watching.”

The image flashes in your mind, vivid and forbidden, and it’s enough to push you over the edge. Your entire body tenses as the wave of pleasure crashes over you, a muffled cry escaping your lips despite your best efforts to stay silent. Jungwon follows moments later, his release shuddering through him as he buries himself deep inside you, his hands clutching you desperately as if afraid you might disappear.

For a moment, there’s only silence, broken by the sound of your labored breathing and the distant hum of the party continuing elsewhere in the house. Jungwon rests his forehead against yours, his eyes heavy-lidded but gleaming with satisfaction.

“Told you…” he murmurs, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “...it’d be worth it.”

But before you can respond, the door creaks open slightly, and both of you freeze.

“Hey, have you guys seen—” Jay’s voice cuts off abruptly as he steps into the room, his eyes widening as he takes in the scene before him.

Jungwon doesn’t miss a beat, his smirk widening as he glances over his shoulder. “Close the door on your way out,” he says casually, his tone dripping with mock innocence.

Jay stares for a moment longer, his face reddening as he mutters something unintelligible under his breath before hastily retreating, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Jungwon turns back to you, his grin turning devilish. “Guess we’ve got some explaining to do,” he says, his voice light and teasing, though his hands still cling to you tightly, unwilling to let go just yet.

❥﹒ enhypen taglist: @minkilicious @casemoa143 @lice @amarecerasus

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aayakashii · 1 month ago

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🎄 MERRY CHRISTMAS 🎄

How will you 🫵 spend your holidays with the boys?

These headcanons are mostly non-Christmas specific activities so everyone can feel included, no matter if you celebrate Christmas or not!!

Credits for the cozy prompts here!

Credits for the gifs here!

Frostheim

Jin

Drinking mulled wine.

It reminds him of when he snuck a sip from his mom's cup – feeling his cheeks warm and his mind get fuzzy. It was worth the light scolding he always received. As he grew up, however, the drink didn't taste as joyous as it used to. The spices held memories that were too painful to touch. Until you shared your cup with him during one Christmas night. And as he took a sip of your wine under your soft gaze, his cheeks warmed, and his mind grew fuzzy once again. But maybe it wasn't the drink's fault.

Tohma

Bundling up and taking a walk.

Granted, he already does it on the daily, but there's a special thing in the air when the year is ending; and the cold is seeping through the thickest of clothes; and you're right there, beside him, with your hand gripping his as if it was your lifeline. He knows he has a lot more resistance to the cold than you, and he enjoys it to the fullest. Seeing you bundled up, almost drowning inside his coats, waddling beside him like a penguin – he loves it. You're so cute. You're lucky he's a gentleman now.

Kaito

Baking cookies.

He thinks there's nothing more romantic than baking sweets with the person he's in love with. Wants to go through all of the cliches with you – putting flour on each other's noses and cheeks, sneaking a taste before it's done, making awfully shaped cookies just for the fun of it... it's the date of his dreams. It's only fair he'll try his best to make something you can't forget either.

Luca

Playing board games.

It reminds him of home. Of late nights with his parents and his brother, playfully arguing over plenty of colorful boards and weird pieces. However, playing games with his family after his brother disappeared became hard. It took him some time to realize he could enjoy it again with you. One night, under the dim lights and to the sound of your laughter and playful bickering, he felt his chest grow warm and his eyes soften as he looked at you, sat right across from him. He felt like he could keep trying again.

Vagastrom

Alan

Taking a long nap.

When was the last time Alan let his guard down? As he curls himself up on his couch, he feels like it must have happened in another lifetime. He focuses on his own breathing and his slow heartbeat – the soft, weighted blanket you had given him protects him from the cold outside, and he catches his own eyelids drooping. He feels comfortable. He feels safe. Before he drifts into a calm sleep, he makes a mental note to gather enough courage to ask you to make him company next time.

Leo

Lighting scented candles.

Self care wasn't exactly a foreign subject for Leo. He knew all there was to know about it. Yet, one thing still remained special whenever winter came around: the holiday themed candles. Gingerbread, nutmeg, peppermint... He pushed every themed candle into your arms whenever you two went shopping during this time of the year. It was his guilty pleasure; one of the few things he actually got excited about. You just have to give in to his whims (and pray you have no allergies).

Sho

Visiting the Christmas market.

Sho can handle crowds easily. Better than you, that's for sure. So you trust him when he invites you to stroll through the market, knowing he'll keep your hand in his as you two look at all the trinkets for sale and all the stall foods. You get each other small gifts – Sho gives you a miniature motorcycle keychain, and you give him a new bandana (which he puts it on his head immediately). As you two walk leisurely, hand in hand, through the busy street, he selfishly wishes he could just stay in this moment forever.

Jabberwock

Haru

Knitting a warm sweater.

He just finds more and more work for himself, even when he tries to relax; as if his body is fueled on responsibilities he creates for himself. If you point it out, Haru will only laugh and say he just wants everyone to have their own matching, ugly sweater. And he's steadfast on his goal. He wants his fingerprints visible when he's creating his very own family. You wearing an ugly sweater he made is just the first step.

Towa

Watching romantic movies.

Is it surprising to know that Towa is probably the biggest Hallmark fan? He could watch a thousand of the same "workaholic woman moves to small town and finds love" movies, and still wouldn't get tired of them. He talks of how he wants to recreate the "airport kiss" scenes, the "kiss under the rain" scenes, and the "kiss in front of an entire city" scenes. You tell him you can't offer him that much, but you can give him a kiss for every godawful movie he forced you to watch. And that's more than enough for him.

Ren

Listening to podcasts.

He doesn't like Christmas. Not surprising, I know. He just thrives in being a hater, and hating Christmas is essential to his persona. He will never admit, however, how much he loves the holiday atmosphere, and how perfect it is to tune into his favorite horror podcasts during the chilly, dark winter. You don't even point out that Halloween was two months ago anymore. You just cozy up next to him, and under fairylights and mistletoes, you get ready to listen to his favorite monster stories.

Sinostra

Taiga

Watching the snow fall.

He feels like the white snow awaken old, softer memories of a time long gone. He lays his head on your lap as you two hide in one of the school building's balconies, observing the snowflakes slowly coat the grass outside. You gently card your fingers through his tousled hair. Maybe he doesn't need to remember anything else if he can keep the memory of this moment in his mind, forever.

Romeo

Wearing warm pajamas.

They're fuzzy, soft to the touch. He can even feel his shoulders sagging as you straighten his pajamas and gently massage his shoulders. No need to yell, no need to fight, no need to worry about things falling apart and through his fingers. He shares his skincare with you in silence, and you accept it, in silence as well. The hum of his air conditioner is enough noise to fill the small, cozy little space you had created for him.

Ritsu

Doing a jigsaw puzzle.

There are no strict rules, no correct way of playing. Just a simple task with a simple goal. For once, he feels like he can be in silence and just properly enjoy your company while you two build some generic scenery together. Ritsu can just be, without the need to prove himself the smartest or the best in order to justify the space he occupies. For two to three hours, it's just you and him and nothing else.

Hotarubi

Subaru

Drinking hot chocolate.

The contrast between the japanese ambiance of Hotarubi and how "western" Christmas feels never fails to amaze Subaru. His favorite part of Christmas, however, isn't the decoration: it's the food. The sweets. He loves to warm his hands with a huge mug of hot chocolate, blushing every time you plop a few more marshmallows in his beverage. You spoil him, shoving every little sweet treat you find in his hands. He promises to eat them all, but only if you always join him in his indulgence.

Haku

Reading a good book.

It's not hard for Haku to have a good day, holiday or not. He just wants to laze around and have you tucked under his arm. That's all there is to it. He looks up from the new book you had just given him as a Christmas gift, only to see you handing him a mug of hot chocolate. He smiles, setting the book and the mug aside, and taps the seat right next to him, effectively trapping you under his arm. If he's being honest, he doesn't really care about christmas, but man, does he love christmas with you.

Zenji

Decorating for the season.

While Subaru usually worries about contrasting decorations, Zenji makes sure to place fairylights in every tatami room as soon as winter comes. He drags you around the dorm, his official helper, while he hangs ribbons and bells and mistletoes in every wall. When you ask him if he's hanging mistletoes on the doorways on purpose though, he looks at you with wide-eyed curiosity – he had no idea what you meant. Was there some tradition he wasn't aware of? Well, you're more than happy to teach him.

Obscuary

Lazing around

It's hard to break his habits. You do manage to shoo him out of his room after announcing Rui and you would deep clean it, so it could be presentable during the new year. Ed is pretty sure you're scarred for life, but, well, you insisted, right? But it's the holiday time, and his undead heart feels a little bit for you. He invites you to stay at his now pristine room for a while, dragging you into a random, obscure youtube rabbit hole. At least his sheets are all clean.

Rui

Going ice-skating.

Isn't it the perfect date? Being able to show off his glorious skating abilities, all while being your knight in shining armor, ready to catch you if you fall. He loves the angry red of your nose and cheeks and the awe in your face as you look at the way the sun reflects on the ice. Rui can barely keep himself from smooching your face until you were red from his attention, not the cold. He can't wait to take you to a cafe date next.

Lyca

Doing arts and crafts.

He wants to give a gift to Santa, and who are you to say no when Lyca asks you for help? In fact, he wants to give gifts to everyone he knows as well: the blonde gigolo, moth eaten casanova, Harurin, Romi and you, of course. His room becomes a warzone of arts and crafts supplies – there's glitter, glue and colored paper everywhere. But cleaning doesn't even come to his mind as he gives you a cheeky grin, glitter all over his face, as he show you his little craft project for Santa. He'll catch him this year, for sure.

Mortkranken

Yuri

Listening to cozy playlists.

Holiday spirit is the one Yuri blames when he allows you to control the aux cord. He's so generous, only demanding that every song must be instrumental. His ears perk up while he works on his papers and you put some etheral music to play. Plastic Platina, you call it. He huffs. What a silly name. He wasn't expecting, however, to inadvertently hum to the repeating rhythm of the song, his work flowing a little more fluidly than he expected. Maybe he can give things other than classic a try. But only sometimes.

Jiro

Lounging by the fireplace.

His body feels a little cold most of the time. It's a common ailment of his after he had woken up from his coma. During winter, therefore, he allows himself to be dragged by your hands as you demand he sits in front of the fireplace. You place a weighted blanket on his shoulders and tuck it snuggly under his feet. You sit beside him, watching the fire crackle and nursing a mug of coffee. He looks at you, body flush against him and he feels his cheeks grow a litte warmer, much to his surprise. Being cold isn't so bad, when he has your company.

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acesofspadess · 2 months ago

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Mistletoe Mischief 🎄

12 Days of Mix-Mas // Day 2

Max Verstappen x reader

wanings: minor voyeurism, Christian Horner, max being boyfriend coded to unhealthy amount

summary: The Red Bull Christmas party decorations were the only thing Max enjoyed that night...

The Red Bull Christmas party was in full swing, a glittering celebration of the season and a remarkable year. Twinkling lights wrapped around beams and machinery, casting a warm glow over the bustling factory. Festive garlands adorned the walls, and the air was filled with the sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and holiday music. You strolled through the crowd with a gin and tonic, soaking in the joy of the evening when a familiar hand slipped into yours and tugged gently.

"Ah, perfect timing," Max said, his Dutch accent curling around the words in that way that always made you smile. His blue eyes sparkled mischievously, his grin already giving away his plan as he nodded toward the ceiling. You followed his gaze and laughed softly. "Mistletoe. Again?"

"Rules are rules," he said with a shrug, stepping closer until the scent of his cologne surrounded you. He dipped his head, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, fleeting kiss. Your heart fluttered, just like it always did when he kissed you, and as he pulled back, his boyish grin made your chest feel impossibly warm.

"That’s the third time tonight, Verstappen," you teased, raising an eyebrow. "Really? Third? Hmm," he said, pretending to think. His arm slid comfortably around your waist as he smirked. "Feels like not enough, don’t you think?" You laughed, shaking your head. "How many of these did you plant yourself?"

"I have no idea what you’re talking about," he replied, his feigned innocence betrayed by the glint in his eyes. Max kept his arm firmly wrapped around your waist, even as the two of you wandered through the party. He was relaxed in a way you rarely saw—his usual intensity softened into an affectionate warmth. He leaned in close whenever someone stopped to talk, holding you against him like he couldn’t bear to let go.

"Max, I want you to meet someone…" Christian said, and sensing his lack of enthusiasim, you squeezed his hand to gently pull him away from his spot tucked into your side.

As he was introduced to a new member of the team, Max was charming and polite, but he never let go of your hand. When the conversation ended, he pulled you back toward the center of the party, stopping every few steps to chat with someone he knew.

"Hey, Max," one of the engineers called, raising a glass. "Congrats on the championship again, mate!"

Max waved, his easygoing smile brightening the room. But then he turned and gestured to you, his voice loud enough to carry over the noise. "I wouldn’t have done it without her, you know."

You shook your head sheepishly as everyone turned to look, some clapping and cheering in good-natured support. You playfully nudged him. "Max!"

"I mean," he said with a grin, leaning down to whisper, "It’s true."

The evening continued in a haze of warmth and celebration, with Max never straying far from your side. At one point, you found yourselves near the dessert table, and he grabbed a sugar-dusted cookie, holding it up to your lips.

"Try this one," he insisted, his voice full of affection. You rolled your eyes but took a bite, laughing when he brushed a crumb from the corner of your mouth. "You’re ridiculous," you muttered, though the way your heart swelled said otherwise.

By the time Max found an excuse to pull you under yet another sprig of mistletoe, you were laughing so hard you could barely kiss him properly. "I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve done this," you said, your breath warm against his lips. He tilted his head, his eyes softening. "Not enough," he murmured, his voice low.

Moments later, Max laced his fingers through yours and tugged you toward a quieter part of the factory. "Where are we going?" you asked, half-laughing as he glanced back at you. "Somewhere without mistletoe," he said, his voice teasing but laced with something sweeter.

The room he brought you to was dimly lit, with just the faint glow of string lights left over from the party. He closed the door behind you, and before you could say anything, his hands were on your waist, pushing you into the door.

"Max," you whispered, but your words faltered when his lips found yours again. This kiss was nothing like the playful pecks from earlier—it was slow, deep, and full of intent. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmured against your lips, his hands sliding up your waist. “I’ve not done anything.” You giggled breathlessly as his kisses continued. “You don’t have to do anything, you just do.” He informed you and you let your hands come to play at the nape of his neck. He moaned lightly into your mouth, taking that opportunity to deepen it and let his tongue dance with yours.

Your heart raced as his mouth moved to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver. “The faint sounds of the party carried on outside, a stark contrast to the heat building between the two of you in the quiet room.

"Max," you moaned, as his hand ran up the slit in your dress. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his thumb brushing against your cheek, a smirk on his face. "You want them to hear us, schatje?” He teased. You shook your head, pulling him back down for another kiss, but then a sharp knock on the door shattered the moment.

"Max? You in there?" It was Christian Horner’s voice.

Max smirked, his eyes telling as he looked at you. His fingers teased softly on the outside your panties, your breath getting spotty. "I saw you sneak off," Christian continued, the sound of the doorknob rattling making your heart leap into your throat.

You could feel Max’s breath against your skin as he leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. "Don’t make a sound," he whispered, his tone suddenly darker, more commanding. The thrill of being caught sent a jolt through you, and despite the tension, you couldn’t help the way your body responded. Max's free hand slid to your hip, his grip firm as he held you in place against his own hips.

"Max, I swear, if you’re hiding to avoid karaoke, I’m dragging you back out here," Christian called, his footsteps fading as he moved away from the door. The two of you stayed frozen for a moment, the silence heavy in the air. Then Max smirked, his lips dangerously close to yours.

"Looks like we’ll have to be more careful," he said, his voice low and dripping with amusement.

But the way his hands tightened on your hips told you he had no intention of stopping anytime soon.

#max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #max verstappen #max verstappen series #max verstappen x black!reader #max verstappen x reader smut

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