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himbodruid · 23 days ago

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Ancient Instinct

Sylus x Reader

-:-breeding kink -:- Sylus loses control -:- consent king -:- primal, carnal, frenzied -:-

Present timeline mirror to A Dragon in Rut

INTENDED FOR 18+ READERS. MINORS DNI.

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“Hey…there’s something wrong with the boss.” Kieran’s voice was filled with concern, enough that you knew it wasn’t some weird ploy by Sylus to get you to visit. Plus, Luke was usually the one that called if Sylus wanted to casually bully you into visiting.

Your phone dinged and you quickly pulled it from your ear to view the message. It was a photo from Luke, showing the destruction of the front room of the base. Furniture was smashed, paintings torn from the wall, and other various decorations thrown about. The brandy decanter that’d been on a side table laid shattered on the ground, along with the two glasses that typically accompanied it.

“Kieran, what the fuck happened?” Worry sank into you as your eyes darted over the photo, hoping you wouldn’t find blood. There weren't really any signs of a struggle, just aimless chaos.

“We don’t know, we thought you might. He came home last night in a scary good mood and then halfway through the night, he just started wrecking the place.”

“We just had dinner and took a walk around the park, there wasn’t anything unusual about anything.” You tried thinking over the night and still couldn’t come up with an answer. “Where is he now?”

“He’s holed up in his room now, but we’re leaving. Before this temper tantrum, he asked us to go pick something up so there won't be anyone here.” There was a hint of uncertainty in Kieran’s voice, as though the twins were reluctant to leave Sylus in the state he was in.

“Okay, that’s fine,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “I just got home from work, so I’ll be there in a bit to see if I can talk some sense into him.”

The call disconnected and you hastily packed a bag for an overnight stay in the N109 Zone. You were out the door and on your motorbike in a matter of minutes, speeding through the darkening streets to get to him as quickly as you could.

When you arrived, the house was eerily quiet. There was almost always something from Sylus’s collection of vinyls playing, the sound filtering through the halls from deep within the façade, but not tonight. It was dark, too. Not a single fireplace or lamp was lit. For all intents and purposes, the house was empty. But still you cautiously pressed onward.

“Sylus?” Your voice echoed in the house as you stepped gingerly over the debris, the light of your phone guiding your way. You made your way to his bedroom, knocking on the door.

“Sylus?” You called again when you cracked the door open. A single dim lamp let you see that the room was in similar disarray to the rest of the house. Still, there was no response, and you thought that maybe he’d left.

A feral-sounding growl emanated from the room. It didn’t sound human at all, and you wished you’d brought your weapon. Was all of the destruction the result of a wanderer? Your watch didn’t detect anything but-

“Leave.” Sylus’s voice was strained and…off. Instead of the usual gravel, there was a hint of something more, something beastly. You had heard stories of people turning into wanderers…was it possible that Sylus was a victim to this anomaly?

“Sy, is everything okay?” You dropped into his nickname out of habit, hoping that whatever had taken over his mind would recognize it.

“If you know what’s best for you, Kitten, you will leave right now.” His words echoed in your head, something familiar about them and this situation. You had brief flashes of tapestries and a cave before your mind returned to the present.

“Sy, are you hurt? The twins called me,” you said calmly, stepping further. You still couldn’t see him, but you could hear his ragged breathing coming from deeper in the room.

You had just cleared the archway that separated the sittig area from the sleeping space when you were pushed roughly against the wall. The side table holding the lamp teetered violently before falling over and taking the lamp with it, shattering the bulb. In the brief seconds the light was on him, you could see that Sylus’s pupils were blown wide and his face was flush. In the newfound darkness, his hot breath fanned across your neck in a series of shaky pants.

“Sylus, please. Tell me what’s wrong, you’re worrying me,” you say, raising your hand to cup his cheek. He made a sound like a barely restrained groan as he turned his face into your touch, inhaling deeply. He pressed his lips against your fingers, your palm, your wrist. You were certain that if he’d had a tail, it would be lashing about in agitation.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he growled. “I don’t think I can be very accommodating or gentle right now, Kitten.”

His warning rolled off him, and yet he still pressed further into you. He buried his nose into your neck, inhaling sharply and his lips trailed your pulse.

“S-Sy,” you gasped as his teeth scraped against your skin, in a spot that held an echo of an ache that no longer existed. Worry was very quickly being replaced with something else, something that pooled deep in your core.

“Mmh,” he purred, nuzzling his face against your neck again. “Your scent…steamy and sweet, like cherry wine. It’s been driving me insane all day.”

“Sylus, what-“ your question was cut off when he slanted his mouth across yours. All thoughts escaped you as he consumed you, plunging his tongue into your mouth the moment you opened for him. Worry and doubt fled from you and every sense was filled with him. You’d even forgotten why you arrived at the base in the first place as he hoisted you up against the wall. Your legs hitched up to wrap around his waist and your arms folded around his broad shoulders. He growled in approval, still devouring you as he pressed impossibly close. You could feel him standing at attention, hard and ready, and you wondered how long he’d been in that condition.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice a breathless whisper against your lips.

“Well, I am here. What’s going on with you, you’re worrying me.” You had to tug at his hair to get him to back off just the slightest bit. Even with your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, his face was too far cast in shadows. He was definitely still Sylus, though- you didn’t see any signs of him transforming into a monster. Just the raging hardon that was pressed against your core.

“Kitten,” he whined, dropping his head against your shoulder. His breathing was ragged, sharp inhales let go as shaky exhales. “This need I feel…it’s like I crave you on some primal level.”

He groaned when you tugged at his hair again, just a gentle pull to guide his mouth back to yours. His chest rumbled in what felt like a purr, the vibrations rolling through you to gather at your already wanting core. You gave your silent consent to him by pulling him closer, devouring his mouth in equal fervor. You gently caught his bottom lip between your teeth and his entire body shuddered.

“You should-” lips found your leaping pulse.

“Run away-“ his teeth scraped the slope of your neck.

“While you still can-“ he latched onto your collarbone, sucking at the spot with a hard draw to create a mark there. You gasped and squirmed as best you could while crushed against the wall by his bulk. The action ground your core against his length and he groaned when he released you from his mouth.

“Take me,” you breathed into him. “Use me. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

He groaned again and hauled you against him, pulling away from the wall to stumble blindly to his bed. There he dropped you onto the mattress, bathing you in the pale lights of the city filtering in from the window. His eyes were still cast in shadow, but you could still see the desire that darkened his expression. He was silent, save for the sound of his heavy breaths, as his hand stroked from calf to hip. Heat blazed from his touch, sinking through the fabric of the leggings you wore.

“Last chance, Kitten,” he growled, the sound rumbling low in his chest. Hands rested at your hip, teasing the waistband in silent question. Though you had already given explicit consent, he waited.

Rather than voicing your answer, and rather than giving in to what he so very clearly wanted, your hands found the collar of his shirt. With slow precision, you unbuttoned his shirt while keeping your eyes locked on his. His breath came in shuddering bursts, his body trembling as you teased him. It was a cruel test of his control, even knowing how close he was to snapping. But you couldn’t help yourself. There was something about seeing carnal desire written in every feature, in every motion, that made you want to take advantage of it.

A sharp inhale, followed by a shuddered exhale when your hand trailed down his newly exposed chest in a tantalizing sweep. He caught your hand before it could trail too far down his abdomen, bringing it to his lips and laying a kiss across your knuckles, and another at your wrist.

And then his lips found yours in a searing kiss to seal your agreement. There was nothing short of passion in the way he devoured you, the way he coaxed you open to tangle his tongue with yours. The heat of his mouth trailed along your jaw, down your neck, searing into any exposed skin he could access until he was stopped my the lapel of the button down shirt you wore. Without warning, he grasped the overlapped edges at the front and ripped your shirt wide open. Buttons flew in every direction and all you could do was muffle your moan with a gasp. Because damn, that show of strength was not one you expected to be so hot. You didn’t even care about the loss of the shirt, you wanted him to do it again.

With the obstruction out of his way, Sylus continued the forge a blazing trail of kisses down your body. The bandeau you wore as a bra was shoved down so that he could swirl his tongue around one nipple and then the other. Soft bites to the undersides of your breasts as he continued downward elicited a sharp inhaled gasp from you. His fingers slipped into the waistband of your leggings at each hip and then tugged, removing them and your underwear in one swift motion. Shyness coursed through you when you were finally fully bared to him, but you didn’t fight him when he held your legs in place, spread for him, so he could rake his eyes up and down you.

His lips found the inside of your knee, teeth finding your thigh, and then his face was dangerously close to your core. You swore you could see his eye flash a quick glow, but the next moments pushed all thoughts and reason from your head.

“I’ll start with your warmest spot…” he murmured against your skin. And then he dipped his head further, his breath fanning against your slick folds. “And until I’m finished, you’re not allowed to stop me.”

And then he descended, overwhelming your cunt with precise strokes of his tongue. You tried to twist away from him, crying out in pleasure, but he held you fast. His gaze bored into you, even as your hands sunk into the silky strands of his hair. He worked you until you were right on the precipice, but then pulled away with a devilish grin before you could crash over the other side. You whined at his unfair treatment until he set about removing his own clothing. Your own gaze devoured him the more he exposed of himself, and fuck he was perfect in every way.

He crawled languidly up your body and settled over you, reclaiming your mouth in a hard, punishing kiss. His knee wedged between yours, pushing and coaxing until you had enough thinking power to wrap yourself around him. This put the head of his cock right at your entrance, and you strained your hips towards him in a desperate bid for penetration. A dark chuckle escaped him when he realized what you were attempting.

“All mine,” he growled. Your knee was hooked over his elbow, one at first and then both as the kiss progressed to a carnal need. You were open fully to him now, and all that was left was for him to take that plunge.

And fuck, did he ever.

His hips snapped forward without hesitation, not even affording you the time to adjust to his girth and length. Not that it was necessary, not when he glided into you easily on the slickness of your arousal. He slammed against you, sinking into you to the hilt, and you couldn’t help the pleasured sound that escaped you. You folded your arms around his shoulders, nails biting into his skin when he tried to pull back. He didn’t get far before his hips jerked forward again, almost off their own accord.

It was as though there was some primal instinct that drove him into you so impossibly deep. You couldn’t understand where it came from, but fuck it felt good. The sensations of his cock slamming into you paired with the guttural moans erupting from him brought you back to that precipice rapidly. So rapidly that you barely had a moment's notice before you came apart around him. Pleasure zipped up your spine, turning your mind blank. All you could do was arch beneath him, crying out his name even as he continued to plunder your body.

He so easily folded you in half and set a pace that was bordering on punishing. What little control he could claim to have had in this moment was gone as he rutted into you. The sounds of your bodies colliding over and over rose to join your pleasured cries and his own grunting moans. You were glad the base had emptied due to his tantrum, because it would be very obvious what was happening should anyone step on the floor landing. Hell, even floors below could probably hear your loud, frenzied mating.

Feeling bold, maybe even mischievous, you lifted your mouth to the jumping pulse at his neck and scraped your teeth against it. Sylus let out a shaky, breathy moan and tilted his head away to grant you more access. With a grin, you bit down on that corded muscle that made up the slope of his neck.

His head fell against your chest with a deep moan, slamming his hips into you hard. Your bite turned into sucking on his neck, raising a mark to show your claim on him to anyone who would dare to look. And he also latched his mouth to your skin, drawing out the same kind of mark.

With a growl, he released your neck to observe the purpling mark he made. His gaze darted to yours, locking eyes with you as his thrusts increased to a breakneck pace. Pleasured expressions flitted across your face and you were almost certain that’s what he was looking for. And then you were arching into him again, crying out his name as your walls pulsed around him. The edge he had been chasing came and went, and he spilled into you with a guttural cry of his own. His hips jerked and slammed into you, his cock twitching as you milked him for everything he had.

He kissed you feverishly, and even as you came down from the high of release, he was still impossibly hard inside you. He rocked into you with small thrusts and you could feel his heart hammering beneath your touch.

“Fuck, how do you feel this damn good,” he whimpered against your lips. His body crashed against yours when you whimpered his name in response, over and over as he chased another release. It came to him with a sharp snap of his hips against yours, a shudder that swept through his entire body, and then more hot ropes of cum were flooding your cunt again.

And he still somehow wasn’t done with you.

A brief respite was all that was granted before he was thrusting deep into you again. At this point, you weren't even sure where you ended and he began. You were beginning to wonder if you would be leaking his cum for days after this encounter, even moreso when he slammed into you again with a guttural, primal cry of ecstasy. This one brought you over the edge with him, the feel of his cock pulsing and twitching inside you drawing release from you without warning.

Finally, after one more orgasm ripped through both of you, Sylus slumped against you. He nuzzled into your neck, soft kisses peppering your skin as you both attempted to regain your breath. He released your legs from his pressing hold and you ran your thighs down both sides of his body, delighting in the way he shuddered again.

You were both a sweaty mess, and you were certain the sheets needed to be changed once he slipped from your body. But he took his sweet time with you, giving gentle kisses that were a stark contrast to the primal possession he just exhibited. The weight and heat of him pressing you into the mattress felt like heaven, and you made a mental note to request this kind of skinship again in the future. Maybe with a little less mess. Or maybe with more, who knows.

You complained when he removed himself from the bed, grudgingly allowing yourself to be carried by him to the bathroom. You were exhausted and couldn’t work up the energy to feel embarrassed as he cleaned you up in the shower, but you were delighted in the way his hands massaged your scalp as he washed your hair. You nearly fell asleep when he blow dried your hair, making him have to carry you back to bed. He slipped you between fresh silk sheets and climbed in behind you, trailing kisses along the back of your neck and shoulders as he wrapped himself around you.

Safe and cozy, you fell into the deepest sleep you’d ever experienced.

And when you awoke to Sylus being gone, you couldn’t help but pout. Until he pushed through the door with a tray in hand, wrapped in his favourite brocade robe. He wordlessly set the tray down in front of you, and you saw it was filled with various crackers, cheeses, and fruits.

“Consider this my apology,” he said with a chuckle as you eagerly dug into the tray. He sat next to you in bed, allowing you to feed him. He was content enough to watch you enjoy the tray, but couldn’t say no when you turned to offer him bites.

“What was that all about anyway?” You ask finally, after working up the courage to not be shy. Sylus’s brows drew down in thought.

“I’m not entirely sure, I don’t think I’ve ever experienced something like that before. I came home to being surrounded by your essence, your scent, and it's like a switch flipped in my head. Like I was possessed. Like some sort of primal instinct that wouldn’t leave until I had you flat on your back with my cock driving into you.”

You blushed furiously at his casual words, occupying your hands and face with more food, so that you wouldn’t put those hands and your mouth all over him in some sort of retaliation. He chuckled darkly and leaned close, inhaling deeply at your neck.

“Mmh. I think I like my scent being intertwined with yours,” he growled into your ear.

Neither of you left his bed for a while following that, and you were grateful it was your weekend.

#lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus qin #sylus smut #sylus x you #sylus x reader #lads fic #lads smut #lads x reader #l&ds x you #l&ds smut #l&ds x reader #love and deepspace fic

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norikuna · 3 months ago

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(JUST MEET ME AT THE) APT! — gojo satoru minors dni. art by chitrartum on twt.

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (a) and let the show begin !

prologue. → your ex, that sleazy and no-good scumbag won't stop posting tacky mirror selfies on instagram, arm around his fellow cheater-in-crime. so, christmas eve finds you morose in a dodgy dive bar. why not tumble back into bed with that random, gorgeous stranger you just met?

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. never drive, no matter how little alcohol is in you folks!!! never!!! making out, creampiè, hooking up with a stranger, ovèrstimulation, mildly rough sèx, gojo won't tell you what his job is

word count. 9.4k! song inspiration. apt — rosé & bruno mars

a/n. reader lowkey a hater, i love vanilla vodka eggnog </3 i said i was gonna post on 02/12 and i kept my word, literally rushed to finished this before my clinical exams in the cardiac ward 😭😭😭😭😭😭 hope y'all stay healthy. your future surgeons are writing gojo smut on tumblr.com

mp3. don't you want me like i want you, baby? don't you need me like i need you now? sleep tomorrow, but tonight, go crazy. all you gotta do is meet me at the apartment (아파트) !

you think your friends would kill you if they knew this was how you were spending christmas eve. not at some glittering holiday party, nor tucked away in a snow-dusted cabin. but here, holed up in a dimly lit bar with an atmosphere so questionable it should come with a warning label alongside a health and safety audit.

the place had charm, if your definition of charm included scuffed floors, a jukebox stuck on 'last christmas' and a string of blinking lights that looked like they'd been thrown at the walls rather than hung. still, you'd swiped a couple of minty candy canes from a jar near the door, which felt like a win.

your phone sat resolutely off in your bag. self-preservation. no instagram, and no tacky mirror selfies from your scumbag ex with the same smirk he'd worn a month ago when you caught him cheating. with someone who had always been 'just a friend, babe!' you weren't keen to let that ruin the rest of the night, though if you were being honest, you had already let it ruin a good chunk of the month.

"another christmas vodka...sour, please," you squint at the messy chalkboard above the bar, where the christmas specials were scrawled in what would barely pass for handwriting.

the bartender gave a single, surly nod. he looked as though he'd rather be anywhere but here, preferably somewhere free of customers nursing post-breakup bitterness like a fine wine.

and so, you found yourself staring at the tall glass now sitting in front of you, studying the rosemary sprig that swayed lazily in the translucent red liquid. a few cranberries bobbed among the ice cubes like they were on some tiny festive raft.

"woah, that one's way too strong for me."

the voice interrupts your private session of wallowing. you turn your head, slowly, to take in the culprit. he-who-hath-disturbed-the-peace. a man sitting close enough to be annoying, but not close enough to invade your personal space.

it takes you a moment to process the stranger, mostly because of the brain freeze from your ill-timed gulp.

"i mean, it's not bad," you shrug, hoping to sound neutral enough that he leaves you be. but then because you just can't leave well enough alone, you gesture at the specials board, "better than...that, at least."

you jab a finger at the chalk-scrawled abomination: vanilla & peppermint vodka eggnog.

the man frowns, a sharp but somehow charming movement that's overshadowed by the dim lights, "hey, i ordered that one."

you blink like a startled bovine, before breaking into a laugh, "my bad. i'm sure it's really fuckin' delicious."

the stranger chuckles too, a soft and low sound that seems more genuine that it has any right to be, "i hope so. otherwise, this is gonna be a long night."

the man finally shifts, casting aside the dim shadows that lay over him, into the blinking string lights. broad shoulders framed by a dark, tailored jacket that hugs him like a second skin. his hair, startlingly white, was pushed back by — wait, was that a blindfold?

you stare longer than you should have, trying to piece the odd sight together. a cosplay? a k-pop idol wannabe, hoping to get recruited for the next bts tour? perhaps, he was blind, hard of sight? you start to open your mouth, wondering how to phrase the intrusive and awkward questions, but he beats you to it.

"i can see you just fine, y'know," he says, his tone laced with amusement.

your cheeks burn at the realisation that he's caught you gawking shamelessly. so you quickly turn back to your drink, suddenly very interested in the cranberries floating in the glass.

the bartender returns, sliding the stranger's drink onto the counter with an audible clink. it was the most obnoxious cocktail that you'd ever seen. a martini glass filled with frothy, pale liquid and crowned with a cinnamon stick that jutted out like the mast of some ridiculous holiday ship.

you watch, mildly horrified, as the man picks up the glass and downs half of it in one confident gulp. he sets it down a satisfied sigh, and a smack of his glossy lips, and you wrinkle your nose involuntarily at the sight.

"i swear it's good," he says with a laugh, catching your expression. his grin is wide, playful. and you find yourself smiling back despite your sour, gloomy mood.

he has a nice smile, you note. not forced nor smug, but genuine. framed by pale pink lips that curl up in an easy, natural way. it was strange though, to look at someone without seeing their eyes.

"i'm gojo, by the way," he offers, his voice smooth and lightly amused once more, as if he'd caught you studying him again.

your gaze drops to his hands, long and slender, tracing the rim of the martini glass. something about the way they move — elegant and deliberate, hold your attention a moment too long for propriety. you quickly snap your focus back to his face, "what brings you here, gojo?"

gojo shrugs, and you can almost imagine him rolling his eyes beneath the blindfold, though you doubt his ire is directed at you, "work, i guess. or maybe i just got bored of going to work."

"they're working you hard, yeah?" you ask, trying for sympathy. employers loved squeezing their workers dry during the holidays. your own boss was proof enough of that, running the office like a sweatshop for santa's unpaid elf labour.

"something like that," gojo says with a scoff, the corners of his mouth quirking up again, "what about you? what brings you here? it's christmas eve, isn't it?"

you sigh, the weight of gauche embarrassment suddenly pressing down as the words spill out before you can stop them, "my ex-boyfriend cheated on me."

gojo's lip curls, the kind of expression that balances perfectly between pity and disgust, "that sucks," he offers. profound and wise, you have to agree as he continues, "you jus' find out or something?"

the question makes you cheeks heat, and you fiddle with the edge of your drink, "no, i've known all month." you gesture vaguely towards your purse, where your phone sat like an unsealed pandora's box, "but he posted...on instagram. and stuff. i'm still, y'know, getting over it."

gojo makes a thoughtful clicking noise with his tongue, "ah, see, i don't do social media. but that sounds rough."

you let out a weak huff, "yeah, well...now i just feel like a loser. my friends told me to go out and have fun, and here i am..." you trail off, downing the rest of your cranberry vodka in a single, decisive gulp. the sting hits your throat, sharp and sour, and you grimace at the burn.

gojo frowns slightly, leaning in just enough that you can hear how his voice softens, "i don't think you're a loser." the sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, pulling your gaze back to him, "it's fair to wallow."

his words hang in the air, and you find yourself smiling, albeit thinly, "that's...really nice of you to say."

gojo hums thoughtfully, "i meant it, i promise. but i can't exactly say i've been there, never really dated anyone."

you blink, openly gaping at the man, "really? you're joking."

it was hard to wrap your head around that. even with the odd blindfold, everything about him screamed 'pounce-worthy'. the broad frame, the charming smile, the striking white hair that looked like it belonged in a kérastase commercial.

gojo laughs at your incredulous expression, "same old work and stuff," he explains with a casual shrug. then his grin fades, tone shifting just enough for you wonder why that feels as though the clouds have covered the light of the moon outside, "always got in the way."

"at least you never had to deal with a breakup," you offer, trying to find some weak, silver lining.

gojo frowns, his pale complexion now tinged with a faint red flush that even the dim bar lights couldn't disguise. was he really that much of a lightweight, or was the eggnog's amaretto content deceptively boozy?

he sighs dramatically, "a friend once left me outside a kfc in shinjuku. then he became a murderer and a cult leader. that felt like a breakup."

"huh," you murmur, staring at the man with a mixture of amusement and faint alarm, wondering if you'd seen any cult leaders on the evening news lately. no, nothing save for the occasional incorrect weather report, a friendly good-looking priest running some scam association, and news reports about an octopus that could predict the lottery, "that's - well, okay..."

you couldn't quite tell if he was joking or not, but gojo seems to shake himself free of the odd reverie. he's running his hand through his shock of white hair, and his grin has returned, slower and a touch softer, "still, your ex must've been crazy. letting go of a pretty girl like you?"

the words land with surprising weight, considering they come from a stranger in a sleazy bar, but it leaves you momentarily stunned. you can feel a blush rising to your cheeks, your heart doing an embarrassing little flip before you manage to get a grip on yourself.

"wow," you laugh, feigning composure as you sip the last remnants of your drink, "smooth."

gojo's smile is wider now, "hah, i call it like i see it," and his lips now curl upwards as he leans in, "and i'm serious. if i had someone like you..."

you laugh again, but this time it's far more unsteady. you wonder if the cranberry vodka is playing with your head, "big words for someone who's never dated. should i be impressed, gojo?"

gojo's chuckle is a deep sound that vibrates in his chest, "i know a good thing when i see it. you don' need to date to know what you want. and i think i want you."

your stomach does a little flip, and you feel all rationality being pounded out of you just from staring at his unfairly gorgeous hands rest on sturdy thighs, "you do flattery well, i'll give you that."

"oh, i don't know about that," gojo says, fiddling with the stem of his glass, "but what'dya say we get out of here? how about my place?"

you blink slowly, and you're aware that your heart (and...nether regions) have already composed an answer before your mind has, "what if you're a serial killer? you're not about to silent night, deadly night me, are you? you haven't killed someone have you?"

for a moment, the man stills but then gojo leans back, "smart girl. asking the right questions. but no, i can at least promise that i'm not a criminal."

you hesitate just for a beat, the words lingering on your tongue, before you let out a breath and shrug, "fine. where's your place?"

"azabu," gojo replies without missing a beat, his tone smooth, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

you gape once more, blinking as you try to process the information. azabu? as in tokyo's ritziest neighbourhood, where a one-bedroom apartment could cost you more than most people's yearly salary? the kind of place where the floors are made of marble, and everyone's shoes are more expensive than your entire wardrobe?

gojo, ridiculously handsome despite looking like a circus runaway, too charming for his own good, and not the type you'd expect to find in a cheap downtown dive bar. definitely not on a christmas eve, at least.

for a split second, you wonder how a man like him even ended up in a place like this. maybe it's some kind of self-imposed penance. or he likes to keep things low-key when he's pretending not to be rich? maybe he's looking to cosplay a succession character?

whatever it is, it's working. not only does gojo have a face carved from marble, now you've got a solid ticket into seeing what a neighbourhood for the top one percent really looks like beyond it's wealthy exterior. maybe, you'll bring back a souvenir.

you wonder whether there's a group of small emotions standing around inside your head, inside-out style. glaring at you as if you're incapable of making good and rational decisions.

well fuck that, you gather yourself and shrug off the small wave of nerves, and loop your purse strap around your finger, "alright," you say, "let's get out of here then."

you don't miss at how the adam apple of gojo's throat bobs for a second, before he downs the rest of his drink in one go, "let's get outta here then."

you follow him out into the cold, your breath fogging in front of you as you try to focus, but the man is tall, like ridiculously so. but when you reach the curb, he turns to face you again, a frown marring his face.

"so, i have a small confession."

i changed my mind and i find you repulsive.

i was paid by your ex to do this, and now i've done enough to get my money.

i'm a serial killer.

you don't know which possibility is worse, "huh, a confession? what is it now?"

gojo chuckles, lifting a hand to the back of his neck, as though he's about to spill a dark secret into the night air, "i don't have a car."

"you've got to me kidding me. how'd you even get down here?"

gojo shrugs, a casual and almost lazy movement. and you feel your gaze lingering on his shoulders. broad, impossibly wide, the dark jacket hugging him in all the right places, like it was tailor-made to showcase just how much he filled it out.

"someone dropped me off. ages ago," like it was the most normal and rational explanation in the world.

your own laugh is short, a little disbelieving, but you pull your silver keys from your purse, "well, i guess i'll have to drive then. but what would you have done if i hadn't been here to save the day?"

gojo steps to the side, opening your own car door for you with a small flourish and exaggerated bow that makes your heart jolt again, "probably teleport back home. maybe fly, since the skies look clear."

what a weird guy. hot, but weird. he seems like the type to dress up with a fake beard and show up as gandalf at the next lord of the rings fan convention.

in the driver's seat beside him, you catch yourself staring too long. your gaze slipping over a model's jawline, the white of his hair being held up by the blindfold. even his vaguely expensive scent is disorienting, pleasant like pine and blackcurrant. but it's also hard not to be amused when he's furrowing teeth into plush pink lips out of concentration, pressing an address into your cracked gps screen.

well, merry christmas to you.

gojo's place is well...how do you say this? gorgeous doesn't quite begin to cover it. he leads you into the building with the ease of someone who knows every inch of it, tossing a casual smile over his shoulder as he swipes a key card to unlock the private elevator, "i tend to move around a bit. or stay in different places. keeps life exciting, don't you think?"

you step into the elevator alongside him, the polished mirrors reflecting the soft glow of gold accents and sleek, modern lines. his hand hovers over the control panel before he presses the button for the top floor. of course, it's the penthouse.

"you move around a lot?" you ask, arching an eyebrow, "what, like a restless billionaire or something?"

gojo smiles, leaning casually against the steel as the elevator begins its smooth ascent, "now you're exaggerating."

the elevator finally dings, and gojo steps aside, offering an exaggerated bow as he gestures for you to exit, "after you, my fair maiden."

you almost scoff at the ridiculousness of it, but there's something so endearing and charming about how he pulls it off, especially when paired with the unfair symmetry of his face.

floor to ceiling windows dominate the far wall, revealing a jaw dropping panorama of tokyo's skyline. the city stretches out in a glittering sea of lights, with the tokyo tower glowing a golden exclamation point against the velvet night sky. the interior is just as impressive, with polished wood floors that gleam in the warm light and a glass dining table that sits beneath a sculptural chandelier. that same faint scent of blackberry and pine lingers in the air, heady almost.

behind you, gojo strolls with an easy and languid grace, tossing his jacket onto an artisan leather armchair. beneath it, his sky blue dress shirt clings just right and rolled up to reveal forearms faintly dusted with pale hair. you think you've momentarily forgotten how words work, and you avert your gaze quickly. though not before catching the faint smile on his lips.

"not bad, huh?" gojo says, heading to the open kitchen as though he's unaware of the effect he's having on a rational and sensible mind such as yourself, "it's no dive bar, but i'll do."

you shake your head, bewildered. trying to process how someone you met in a dingy bar could live somewhere that looks like it belongs in architectural digest. even down to the odd, ancient looking pieces that scatter the wide living room. weird looking artifacts of some sort. maybe he's also a collector? go figure.

"not bad?" you repeat, incredulous, "gojo, this place is incredible."

the man laughs, opening a sleek fridge to grab a bottle of water, "i have good taste," he says with mock modesty, his tone teasing as long fingers twist off the cap, "and a thing for gorgeous views. though, between you and me, i'm not great with heights. ironic, i suppose. paying a fortune for a view i'd rather not get too close to."

he waves a hand vaguely towards the windows, the blindfold still firmly in place.

"so, what's the deal? did you win the lottery, or inherit a fortune. or are you some kinda secret agent who moonlights as a barfly?"

gojo lifts the bottle in mock toast, "let's just say i'm very good at what i do."

you arch a brow, crossing your arms and ignoring the warm flush creeping up your neck, "and what exactly is that?"

"oh, you know. standard stuff. international intrigue, thwarting evil creatures. i even saved a kitten from a tree the other day."

"right, because nothing screams the next member of the avengers like eggnog in a seedy bar."

gojo leans casually against the counter, "even the avengers need a holiday drink now and then. don't knock it." but then he gestures towards the sleek couch, "wait, you can make yourself comfortable, y'know. i'd hate for my guest to think i'm a terrible host."

"terrible host? no, but a mystery man —"

before you can finish, your foot catches on something hard, and you stumble forward with an undignified yelp. gojo reacts instantly, how does he move that fast, and his arm is shooting out to steady you. but glorious gravity and magnificent momentum has other plans.

both of you crash onto the couch, and you find yourself sprawled unceremoniously across his lap. gojo's laugh rumbles low in his chest, and you can feel the warmth of it underneath your palms as you steady yourself, "well, that's one way to get comfortable," he murmurs, voice teasing as his large hand lingers lightly on the curve of your waist.

you prop yourself up slightly, cheeks burning, and glance back at the offending object. your brows knit together when you spot what looks suspiciously like a katana gleaming under the soft light.

"did i just trip on a — hey, what the hell is that?"

gojo interrupts, smoothly extending a long leg to nudge that suspicious object under the nearby coffee table before you can finish, "nothing important," he says breezily, the motion so quick you almost think you imagined it.

his focus shifts back to you, almost guilty, but his fingers are pressing divots into the fabric of your top, "now, where were we? hi."

you blink, caught off guard by how strange it is to feel the searing heat of someone's gaze underneath a blindfold, impossibly intent, "hi yourself," you manage.

for a moment, neither you nor the gorgeous man under you move, and the world feels strangely airless.

but your fingers twitch against the fine linen of his shirt. and before you can second-guess yourself, you reach your hand up to the edge of the silk fabric over his face and you ask, "can i take this off?"

gojo tilts his head, like it's a genuine consideration and you catch the faintest flicker of hesitation. it's fleeting, replaced by a crooked smile as he nods, "go ahead, sweetheart."

your hand rests lightly on the silk, hesitant for only a second before tracing its way to the back of his head. your fingers brush through impossibly soft strands of white hair, and his breath hitches when you find the knot tied neatly to the base of his skull.

you wonder what manner of man gojo is, letting himself be stitched undone by a stranger. but with care, you undo the knot, working deftly and clutching the fabric as you pull the blindfold away.

the blindfold slips free, and for a moment, you're certain you've forgotten how to breathe. bright, piercing blue eyes. framed by thick white lashes blink up at you. the intensity of such an unearthly gaze is softened by something more vulnerable, almost shy. nervous even.

"wow," you murmur without thinking, the word spilling out as gojo's expression shifts, an unguarded openness replacing the playful smirk that you've seen all evening.

your earlier assessment echoes in your mind: k-pop reject wannabe. the recent memory now feels like quite the injustice, a careless slight against a face that defies easy description. each detail of his face is striking, as if some divine hand had taken special care to sculpt him from the fabric of time and space itself.

gojo seems to sense your analysis, and you're sure that he's parted his lips to speak, but whatever he was about to say falters. that faint flush, pale-red like vermillion watercolour bleeding across a canvas, blooms across his cheeks. gojo's hazy gaze flickers for a second, and it sends a thrill through you. he's affected by this, by you.

it's hard to resist the slow smile that curves your lips, light and playful if only to mask the way your own heart is racing, "are you seriously shy now, gojo?"

gojo's expression shifts again almost immediately, as if that subtle invulnerability has been replaced by something sharper, almost indignant. he sits up a little straighter, the movement making you acutely aware of how the hard planes of his body feel beneath you.

"shy? no," gojo says, his voice steady but edged with some need to defend his honour, "i just...don't usually do this. that's all."

there's a sincerity in his words, an almost begrudging honesty that takes you by surprise. you tilt your head, as your murmur, "i don't either."

before you can second-guess yourself, you tilt your head down. pressing your lips to gojo's in a featherlight kiss. his taste is intoxicating, honey and sweet grapes mingling with a hint of that ridiculous vanilla drink from earlier. you pull back almost as quickly as you leaned in, testing the waters.

but your breath catches when you see that the blue of his eyes has deepened, darkened. and his lips, pink-blush and slightly parted, form a quiet and stunned oh!

"cool," gojo manages, his voice rougher than you expected, and you bite back a laugh as you watch him swallow hard.

"huh, cool?" you echo, your amusement bubbling over, "that's it? that's all you've got?"

gojo's grip on your waist tightens, and his hands are now splayed over your spine. anchoring you to him, as his mouth curves into something sly, though his flushed cheeks betray his composure, "compliments to the chef?"

you shift slightly, pressing more of your weight firmly into his lap. though not yet close enough to situate yourself over his groin, delighting in the way gojo's blush spreads down his neck, staining his skin a shade reminiscent of ripe berries swirling in cream.

you can feel gojo's attention as much as you can see it, how his own gaze lingers, deliberate and unhurried. taking you like a masterpiece that deserves more than a cursory glance. the hand that had been steady on your back shifts, his fingers threading through your hair. he watches as the strands slip and fall beneath his touch.

"thought you said you wanted me, gojo," you tease, though you're certain your voice is betraying the way your pulse is doing its best impression of the macarena in your jugular, "are y'gonna do something or not?"

gojo's gaze snaps back to you, a flicker of something far more intense passing through those impossibly blue eyes. full of hunger, need even. the hand in your hair slides away, only to settle at your jaw. it's warm and steady, his thumb brushing slightly over the plush of your bottom lip.

"i do want you," gojo says, his voice low and steady and maddeningly genuine, "want you to kiss me again. and again. as many times as you want until i forget my own name."

"gojo —"

"satoru," he interrupts, his voice cracking slightly, stripped of any previous swagger. it's unsteady and raw, affected in a way that excites you. sends a dark heat curling low between your thighs, "you can call me that."

"satoru," you repeat softly, letting the syllables fall from your lips, unfurling in the most hazy way.

something within the man shifts. his hand tightens on your waist, dragging you closer in a way that punches the air from your lungs. right over -

oh. the thick, curve of his erection straining against slacks that probably cost more than your monthly salary. it's deliberate, almost desparate at how the invisible thread snapped inside him. unravelled the careful composure he's been clinging to until now.

"go on," gojo murmurs, his voice dark with need, "kiss me again, please."

you lean closer, eyes flickering to his lips, and your pulse roaring in your ears, "who would i be to deny you any wish, satoru?" the words come out more reverent that you'd expected, as if your entire world has been tilted off its axis.

and then you kiss him, hard. desparate. as if his lips are your birthright, a homeland to claim. and gojo's kissing you back, carrying a sweetness that seems both foreign and familiar. in an instant, the weight of another man, a dreary haze in your past, vanishes. gojo is suddenly everything you didn't know you needed, vibrant and electrifying.

"let me know if it's too much," gojo breathes against your lips, his voice shaky as if he's trying to tether himself to the earth. but your kiss deepens, frantic and unrestrained. his mouth moves against yours with a hunger that sends sparks down your spine, and you suddenly realise you quite like the taste of vanilla when it's dripping from his open kisses.

you pull away, for every human needs air. but the sight before you has you clenching your thighs desperately around the bulge where you sit atop. gojo's gaze is heavy, full of that desparate longing that makes your chest ache. his lips are swollen, a soft cherry hue from your kisses. and strands of white hair fall over his blue eyes.

"look what you've done to me, fuck. miss you already," gojo murmurs, and before you can respond, he surges forward, hands pressing against your face with the intensity of a storm. one hand reaches to find the nape of your neck, letting you surrender to the heat of this touch.

you crave more, so much more from gojo, who's taking you in like you're his last breath, his final indulgance. it's as if he's found a new devotion in you, ready to worship you at the alter of your false godhood. but before you can part your mouth to tell him exactly what you and where, gojo's hands are already sneaking under your top, brushing against the trembling skin of your torso.

his teeth are biting down on your lip, leaving you dizzy. and gasping, and so damp in your panties as the fabric of your top is peeled away, and you're left shivering, fighting against the cold of the december air. you find yourself pressing harder into the warmth of his chest, letting the swell of your chest press flat against him.

"shoulda' turned the heat on before we came in," gojo murmurs, breathless as his lips hover a mere centimetre away from yours, "got nothin' to worry about, sweetheart. i'll keep you warm."

"didn't t-think i'd spend christmas eve like this," you gasp, your head lolling to the side as gojo presses open-mouthed kisses to the soft arc of your neck, sensitive even to the cool air.

"no?" gojo's reply is breathy, almost frantic as if he's fumbling in the heat of the moment and has little grasp over the words tumbling out of his mouth, "neither did i. but this? b-better than any fuckin' mission they could've sent me on."

you cock your head, feeling the heat of his clothed cock underneath your thighs, "m-mission, huh? what are you talking about - mmph!" but the rest of the question never escapes your lips for it's swallowed up by another one of gojo's candied kisses.

his rough hands work deftly, finding the clasp of your bra with ease. a pretty crimson thing, almost sheer as it caught the light. and in the centre, a tiny satin bow sat like the final touch on a perfectly wrapped gift. you had only worn it half-heartedly earlier in the morning, some forced christmas cheer for your dreary day ahead.

the look on gojo's face was anything but composed, staring at your cupped tits like you'd knocked the air out of him and his chest rose and fall as though he were remembering how to breathe. in a single fluid motion, your bra is unhooked. the faint metallic click barely audible over the pounding in your chest and he's tossing it aside with a casual flick, his focus entirely on you.

you find yourself mesmerised by his eyes, those swirling pools of blue that seem to have stolen fragments of the sky itself, clouds brushed into cerulean depths with strokes of syrupy smoothness. they're breathtaking, but the thought shatters as gojo's canines graze the flesh of your breasts, a sharp and teasing nip that pulls a gasp from your lips. leaves you rocking sharply against his erection, making him throw his head back, ragged.

the playful string blooms into a flush of heat, and gojo's at it again, his mouth working to leave faint red marks in its wake. you squeal, half in surprise and half in helpless laughter (and entirely in a lusty haze) but gojo only pulls back enough to murmur, "what? can't help myself."

but then he peers at you abruptly, his lips parted as he catches his breath, "wait. do you wanna —?" and gojo tilts his snowy hair towards the shadowy doorway that leads out of the living room, the implication clear even through his panting.

you nod, breathless, "yeah, jus' help me up."

without hesitation, a strong arm slides around your waist, and before you know it, you're being swept into a semi-bridal carry, and your head is resting against the fabric of his dress shirt. not a bad feeling, one you could get used to.

at the doorway, gojo lets out a low 'shit!', nudging the door open with his foot. the faint sound of clattering follows as he kicks something out of the way. you glance down from your entirely too comfortable vantage point, spotting a smattering of cheap tinsel, all glittering in metallic silver and gold, tangled with round baubles that glisten faintly under the dim light.

some have little smears of glue, and uneven glitter patches, as if crafted by unsteady hands, but with earnest effort.

"you big on christmas or something?" you tease, delighting in how the tips of his ears light up like nose of a famous reindeer.

gojo freezes for a moment, almost sheepish as he clears a path, clearly trying to look as macho as possible as he gingerly pushes aside a string of green lights, "made those for my students," he mutters, "thought they'd like them in the classroom tomorrow."

your laugh grows louder, and gojo's brows furrow, his tone growing defensive, "it's a nice surprise for the classroom!"

"i'm not making fun of you!" you insist, leaning up to press a gentle, soothing kiss to the hollow of his collarbone, "it's sweet. i think it's really nice, actually. wait, you're a teacher?"

gojo's mouth quirks up in a faint smile, "something like that," he says cryptically, finally clearing a decent and hazard-free path into a sleek, and clean bedroom. it's all modern space, all clean lines in shades of cream and white, and navy.

gojo sets you down gently, and the plush fabric cradles you as your back lands on fresh linen. and for a quiet, tender moment, you're both caught in the stillness. gojo kneels at the edge of the bed, his hands resting lightly on each of your thighs as if he's anchoring himself there.

his gaze is steady, content, maybe even adoring in a way that feels too intimate for someone who you barely know. there's a warmth in his expression, like he's savouring the sight of you, searching for something — and he's found exactly what he's hoped for.

almost without thinking, you lift a hand, cupping the sides of his face. his skin is warm beneath your palm, soft with the faintest hint of pale stubble that seems to fade into his skin. the moment your hands makes contact, gojo leans into your touch instinctively, his white lashes fluttering closed.

"hey, 'toru," you murmur softly, "y'still with me?"

gojo's eyes snap open at the sound of that, sharp and bright, as if the nickname itself has sparked a challenge in him. a low and almost frustrated sound escapes from the back of his throat, and he presses a feather-light kiss to the inside of your knee.

you don't miss at how his teeth sink into his bottom lip again, worrying and working the plush flesh like he's trying to steady himself. spreading your weeping thighs aside, as his gaze is fixed on something. intense, unwavering. the sheer focus of it making heat creep up your neck.

at how he must be staring hungrily at damp, sheer red fabric that clings to the outline of your cunt. at how it must shimmer almost translucently now, the sticky slick of your arousal enhancing the gloss, making your panties glisten under the light.

you're feeling an unfamiliar kind of shy under the weight of his attention, at how he must see how the fabric clings closely to your puffy, swollen folds — the delicate weave exposing the shape of your taut pussy, practically weeping for his touch.

you needn't have asked, for gojo was already diving into deliver.

he's gliding his index finger over your dripping pussy, letting the tangy syrup sink onto his fingers, leaning in to press a sweet, almost innocent kiss to your clothed cunt, "she seems desperate for me, don'tcha think, heh?"

the sound of the fabric ripping is sharp and wet, a squelching and almost fleshy tone, a sound that's both soft and sharp to the blood rushing between your ears. a strained tear of your beautiful panties, leaving cool air to gently leave a kiss of its own upon your cunt.

you gape at him, a bit too stunned to find coherent words, "hey, what the f-fuck! those were like super expensive!"

gojo rolls his eyes, the kind of look that has a bit too much attitude for someone who's practically begging on his knees for a taste of you, "don't get all huffy on me, sweetheart. 'm gonna buy you more, is tha' alright?"

"i'll r-remember that, satoru," you murmur, giving a sharp tug at his white strands, "you gon' have to give me your number now."

gojo shudders, the muscles in his back rippling underneath his tight shirt, "was already gonna," and he's back to pressing soft, kitten licks to your now exposed folds, small circles over your throbbing clit.

you buck your canting hips closer to the heat of his mouth, to where the pink tip of his teasing tongue peeks out of a pretty mouth, "satoru, c'mon. can't you just, fuck—"

you sharply cry out as he presses his mouth forward, a sudden surge of heat jolting through you. burying himself deep, his nose brushing against the sweet, syrup that coats your pussy, and the rhythmic, wet movements of his tongue send shivers through your entire being.

"mhm, jus' as sweet as you look, baby," gojo gasps, swirling and flicking his tongue, teasing you with every deliberate patter of the muscle near your winking entrance. so messy, slick and you're not sure where he ends and you begin as it all glides together carnally.

gojo seems languidly tipsy, just from munching through the gloss of your cunt, far more intoxicated from your taste than any cheap christmas liquor. he alternates between pushing his tongue past the ring of your tight walls, and then wrapping his lips around the searing pulse of your clit, leaving your hips shaking and dragging over his mouth, smearing yourself over his chin.

you're fisting delicate white locks with fierce urgency, and he hisses and then chuckles into your pussy, "tch! ease up there for me, yeah? jus' move your hips like you were doin' before," and you comply, angling yourself better so he can flatten his tongue against your folds, jaw grinding deeper into you "hah, yeah, just like that."

"taking good care of you though, aren't i? wait, say it. say that 'm making you feel good," and he's bullying a long finger into your gummy walls, clingy and sopping, "say 'm making you feel better than a-anyone ever has," and you just mewl as your arousal must surely be dripping down his forearms, staining the cuffed sleeve of his shirt as he takes your sweet juices down his throat.

there's stars beginning to twinkle at the edge of your vision, and you know you must be close, for your heart is practically dancing a heavy beat against your ribcage, and you suddenly push his mouth away, watching as a clear strand of spit or your slick forms a taut bridge between his mouth and your folds.

"w-wait, satoru, s-stop."

gojo's head lifts, eyes blinking as if coming out of a faze. but then, like a switch, something sharp flickers behind his gaze and concern floods in. his thin brows furrow slightly, glossy lips parting as he reaches out, as if to steady your hips, "you okay, sweetheart? what's wrong?"

your heart stutters, pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it. you try to steady your breathing, but the tremour in your fingertips betray you as they gently slide through your hair, the silky strands tangling around your hand.

"nothin' wrong, 'toru. but i was gonna cum," and gojo's face, still flushed and soft with arousal, splits into a shy, amused grin.

"hah, i know. that's what i wanted," he's close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath hitting your aching cunt, but you shake your head again.

"feels unfair, wanna see you too. wan' you to cum in me,"

you watch, almost in awe, as a low and guttural sound escapes gojo satoru, raw and unfiltered. gojo runs his tongue over his lips, his eyes dark with something dangerously close to hunger.

"you sure?" and his voice is hoarse, unsure despite his roaming gaze. you nod, your hands digging into his shoulder, tugging at the crisp fabric of his dress shirt, desparate to feel the warmth of his skin underneath.

his shaky laugh of disbelief only makes you more aroused, whining for him to hurry up, and before you know it, he's standing up, towering over your boneless form on the sheets.

"how could i deny you anything?" he murmurs, echoing your earlier words. gojo's hands reach for the hem, the fabric shifting as he pulls it over his head, revealing a milky expanse of toned skin, smooth and taut over a set of abs that should easily land him on a gq list.

his waist is slender, defined in all the right places, and the soft taper of muscles make your breath catch. but the soft white trail of hair that reaches under his waistband makes your cunt clench.

"y'seem happy with the view, don'tcha?" gojo's voice is teasing, the cocky smirk tugging at his lips, but you can hear the impatience threading his tone now too. he's not as in control as he lets on, his hands now making quick work of his belt, leaving your mouth dry when he finally pushes his black boxers down.

you should have known that his cock would be as pretty and unfairly gorgeous as the rest of him. he's circling the strawberry-red tip, glowering and throbbing, right over your gathered slick, coating it and smacking the mushroom head in a thwack! over your poor clit, leaving you jolting as he laughs and leans down to kiss you sweetly once more.

"jus' look at me, yeah?" his drawl is slow, lazy and so ruined. at the first inch of his throbbing cock that slips through your walls, he looks utterly undone. a mess of sharp edges softened by something far more primal and raw.

gojo's head tips back, exposing the elegant line of his neck as the moonlight cascades over you, "hey, sweetheart, 's not too much, yeah?"

hazy blue eyes bore into you, and for a brief moment, in the time it takes for the lightning to strike the earth, you swear that his eyes glow. almost radiant and jewel-like, with cerulean fractals shimmering as if they're emitting life of their own. perhaps its simply the electrifying stretch of inches that's rendering you to hallucinate, whining as your nails find purchase in milky skin and rippling shoulders.

"i-it's big, 'toru," you pant, feeling him almost shudder at the clipped name again, as he grips the base of his cock to bully the final inch in, sighing in contentment as he finally bottoms out, with a wet pop!

gojo looks feral like this, heaving a breath through his mouth as though the air is being taken from him from every second he spends stretching you out on his fat shaft, "hah, 'm glad, i'm so glad i met you tonight, sweetheart. fuck, fuck, y'feel i-incredible."

he's pushing your thighs further back, running his hands over the plush skin, leaving bruising red prints that won't disappear tomorrow as you moan, wanton into his open mouth, letting gojo run his lips down your jaw and into the curve of your neck.

you're practically now folded in half under the bulk of his weight, feeling stars collide in absolutely astrophysical ways, impaled further on the long and thick length of his cock, "in so deep, s-satoru."

seems that gojo is a man of little mercy, for he seems only all the more invigorated by your squeals, drawing his torso back to watch the hypnotic smack of skin on skin, of your slick and creamy froth creating fresh rings over his pistoning cock.

he's entirely out of control, as you feel your body go limp from the pleasure shooting through every nerve and pore.

depraved.

you don't realise you might have let that slip out loud, so dizzy in your cockdrunk haze because gojo's suddenly ramming himself roughly in you, as though he was desperate to have his cock kiss your cervix, to feel for every divot and nook of your cunt's walls.

"d-depraved, hah. people call me, fuck, p-people call me a lotta things, sweetheart," and gojo's so good with it, letting your pussy have not even one moment to take reprieve, having you feel each vein and bulge of his cock, "but depraved is n-new."

the hand that was dancing over your thighs flies to your swollen, aching clit. practically glistening for his attention, and his attention you did receive, "right, t-there! 'toru, mmph!" you're trying to splay your legs wider, giving his quick hand more room to swirl tight circles where you needed him most.

your double-vision gaze lingers on the ripple of his muscles, the way his arms flex and shift as he seems intent on angling you just right for him to drill his cock over and over, at some freakish and feverish pace, "y'so good, gojo," you purr, and your nails curl against his arms, pressing just enough to leave tiny crescents in his skin, the faint dampness of his exertion clinging to him, "s-so strong!"

something shifts. the glow is back, electric blue flooding his eyes like crackling storm clouds. it's almost unnerving, this unearthly brightness, as if he's some ancient god wrapped up in human skin, and you've just stumbled into a divine revelation.

gojo stills for the briefest moment, the thick head of his cock snagging on your puffy folds as he draws himself almost entirely out. the absence of motion makes you whine, an airy and impatient sound escaping your throat. that hesitation feels like a tease, like a string that's been pulled so taut, before he finally dives forward, capturing your mouth in a messy, heated kiss. sloppy in its disregard.

"s-so strong, huh?" gojo's voice is rough, shaky, as though he's trying to centre himself but your tight pussy holds him in hypnotic sway, "y-you think so? think i'm the strongest?" his lips brush yours as he speaks, and there's something almost boyish and charming in the way that he seems to be fishing for a compliment, despite the low heat in his voice.

you pull back from his wet, spit-stringed lips. just enough to wrap your hands around his neck and push him closer, deeper into you as he gutturally groans, "if i s-say yes, are y'gonna keep showing off?"

gojo's laugh is short, breathless, "y-yeah, wanna see?"

he makes quick work of pushing himself back into you, pumping himself so far in that your slick must be painting and sopping the white hairs at the base of his cock almost translucent, "o-oh my god, 'toru, fuck, oh my god!" the stretch has your head spinning, as if the skies are parting above you, and you're melodramatically left to see the light of divinity as gojo bucks his hips harshly into you. as if he's too far gone, needs to prove himself to you with a good fuck.

"you h-have to say it," gojo stutters, his words tumbling out so quickly, like rough gravel, "say it, fuck, c'mon. say i'm — say i'm the s-strongest. you have to, hnghh, god. please, jus' agree, okay?" his voice is cracking, that cocky veneer entirely shattered under the weight of his rambling desperation as he practically rummages through your sopping insides, "y-you feel it right, i mean, you can feel me — i mean."

a high whine escapes your throat as his pace becomes almost olympian, and you wonder faintly how you haven't managed to sprain a muscle or break a bone yet, how he hasn't managed to shatter something with the sheer pace and force of how gojo satoru fucks, "hah, 'toru. i'm —"

"close? g-god, i hope so. 's what i want. nothing, like n-nothing feels better than this right?" his words are falling out of him in a messy, pussydrunk rush, his eyes flickering between your face and down to where your pussy lips are bulged around his shaft, "so good, right? the b-best thing you've ever —"

you truthfully don't even hear the rest of his words, blood absolutely roaring and rearing in your ears, your ribcage as you feel the tight coil snap, letting out short, slurred snaps of his name when you cum. as he doesn't quite let up on smacking his hips right against your ass, "s-satoru, 's getting s-sensitive, oh, fuck. fuck!"

he's suddenly whining, with pleading and erratic blue eyes chasing after you, sloppily pushing down so he can gasp and pant into your open mouth, before capturing you in a heart-stopping kiss as he finally gets milked dry by your pulsing and fluttering walls. in awe of how creamy white is practically leaking out of you, dripping a stringy trail over the flesh of your thighs.

you're agape at how utterly fucked he looks right now, though you're certain you do not look much better as fat tears prick at your eyes, streaming past your ears from the overstimulation, "s-still fillin' me up, 'toru. god, do ya always cum this much?"

at first, you don't even get a response from gojo who just sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck, almost as if he's trying not to cry out, but then he's back to circling your clit with a rough hand, "makin' me sound like some kinda whore, s-sweetheart. 'n and i told you. don't do this m-much."

and now he's slowing down, pleasurably painful bucks of his hips keeping glossy, white seed in you. ensuring that it coats your entire entrance, "an' it's not my fault that she," and here, he gives your clit a small smack! grinning like a madman, "n-not my fault that she's so, hah, addictive."

each tight circle of his hand on your clit sends you hurtling into yet another orgasm, one that has you begging gojo for mercy, repreive, for more. an orgasm that has him whispering the sweetest nothings into your ear, "d-don't worry, gotcha like this. gonna let you rest n-now, jus' gotta relax for me."

by the time he's slipping his still somehow hard cock out of your creamed cunt, you can feel exhaustions heavy and caring hands caress you, rendering your body limp and boneless. your eyes heavy and hazy, but you can feel a soft ghost of gojo's kiss over the shell of your ear, "h-hope y'still here in the morning, sweetheart. don't leave, yeah?"

the morning sunlight filters through the blinds, and despite the ache in your limbs that cricks your bones, you drag yourself out of bed. christmas day, after all. you've thrown on gojo's dress shirt from last night, snug enough to flutter around your hips, but oversized enough around the shoulders to let you drown in it.

it's cozy though, and even the chilly air feels refreshing against the warmth clinging to you. gojo is still sound asleep, and you had smiled at how he took little puffs of air as he was passed flat out in bed. but you always like to be up early on christmas, and there's something about the holiday that makes you feel like you need to earn the right to nap later.

you wander around the bedroom for a bit, stretching your legs as your muscle protest in earnest. eventually, you decide to make your way to that kitchen. breakfast, right.

it seems like a good idea, especially considering the last thing in your stomach was a questionably sour vodka. so you pull open the fridge, expecting something befitting of this apartment. perhaps a slab of wagyu beef, a tin of caviar, a thick block of pistachio-cream dubai chocolate. you'd even settle for sushi.

instead, you're left staring back at a stack of candy canes, some strawberry yoghurt, a carton of milk and some fast food wrappers. despite your protesting stomach, a deep amusement washes over you. it doesn't surprise you that gojo would have a fridge stocked with food you'd find at a child's birthday party and a greasy diner.

still, breakfast is in order and because you can't help it, you pull out a candy cane and start unwrapping it. you're just about take a bite when you hear the unmistakable pad of footsteps. you turn, face to face with someone who would clearly not be out of place on a vogue covershoot.

gojo hasn't tossed on a shirt, and the sunlight filters over his chiselled physique before your sight is stolen by the loose sheet wrapped around his waist. delicious. you try to snap your gaze back to his face, but it's hard to not track your gaze down his torso, like a cat eyeing a particularly irresistible sunbeam.

"good morning to you too," gojo says, a grin curling his lips, "what are you doing?" his voice is still thick with interrupted sleep, laced with a morning rasp that forces you to ground yourself and stop falling prey to the god, eros and his machinations.

"breakfast, 'm starving."

"don't bother," gojo says, shaking his head, "we can go somewhere nice for breakfast. like real, actual food. don't think you want half-eaten yoghurt."

you nod enthusiastically, mind turning back to the peeling seal of the strawberry yoghurt with a spoon sticking out of it. but then, something else catches your mind's attention. a little curiosity piques, one that you cannot help but ask him.

"wait," you begin, snapping your teeth around the saccharine mint of the candy cane, "y'know what's crazy. like, i swear your eyes glowed last night. not even in a silly compliment way, but like electricity. i thought i was like, losing it.'

you expect gojo to brush it off with a wink, or maybe laugh it off like you're just teasing him. but instead, the man's face shifts, that cocky smile faltering for the briefest moment. it's gone so fast that you think you almost imagined it. but why does he look...almost guilty?

before you can process that, you realised you've leaned yourself over the counter, and in your absent-mindedness, your elbow presses a button on the answering machine. a small beep, and suddenly, a voice blares through the room,

"hey, gojo-sensei!" comes a high-pitched, distinctly teenage voice, an excited boy who sounds a little crackly over the speaker, "so, we found this grade one curse yesterday...and uh, we totally got rid of it. we were gon' call you, but you didn't pick up. but i almost got my arm torn off. wait, no! that sounds dramatic, i got shoko to look at it anyway. so what we're all wondering right is that we don't have to hand in any homework now right? as like reparations?"

the voice crackles off, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. you stand there, absolutely dumbstruck, staring at the answering machine like it's about to burst into flames or start singing christmas carols.

gojo, meanwhile, has the most awkward look on his face, clearly caught between embarrassment...and what? panic, amusement?

"satoru, what the fuck?"

he looks at you for a moment, but instead of speaking, he lets out a long and exasperated sigh before pulling out one of the counter chairs, "you're gonna want to sit down for this one, sweetheart."

3K notes · View notes

1nthedarknessofthenight · 5 months ago

Text

﴾ let me blow your mind

pairing: badboy!han jisung x f!reader

genre: one-shot, high school au, smut

word count: 10,1K

warnings: a lot of marking! ⋆ groping! ⋆ biting!⋆ light!spanking ⋆ experienced!han and inexperienced!reader ⋆ dry humping ⋆ oral (f. and m. receiving) ⋆ dirty talking (han has a nasty mouth) ⋆ cunnilingus ⋆ squirting ⋆ face!cumshot

summary: you noticed him watching you from afar, though it never occurred to you why han jisung, the school’s bad boy, would be watching a shy, nerdy girl like you, but before you can even blink, you are thrown into a world of pleasure and right into his greedy hands

request by @khandzilla

main masterlist

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He thinks you are doing it on purpose. Your teeth nibbling, chewing at your pencil. Pink tinted lips, wrapping around it and staining it — and he just knows that the lip balm you always apply is strawberry flavored. You always sit at the front of the class, like the good student that you are and even from the back of the room, he can see the sweat glistening on your skin. In his opinion schools should not be open at such weather, but he isn’t that against it, because he could see more of your white thigh highs sliding down your yummy thighs. Such a good student — there has never been a day when he hasn’t seen you wearing the school uniform. You always made it look so good and especially when the weather was too much your luscious skin to handle. The sleeves of your white blouse are rolled up and to his delight few buttons undone at the top, but to his displeasure hair not put up to show off your neck. Everyday he tried to at least catch a glimpse of new skin.

But it wasn’t enough for him. He ignores his friends snickering, the loud noise disturbing his thoughts for a split second. His head falls into his hand, leaning to the side when of the students moves before him and into his view. He is only pulled away from his thoughts when you turn around to look at the teacher. He only at that realized that the teacher is walking around the class to hand out their graded tests. Han doesn’t even have to see it, he knows that he totally blew it. It didn’t matter, l the only good grade that matters is yours.

No, he doesn’t want to say that it’s a crush. To be honest it’s a borderline obsession. He wouldn’t go to school so often if you weren’t there, he doesn’t even care about keeping up his reputation anymore. He had basically memorized your whole schedule — you are always the first person in class, glasses almost falling off your nose as you are always buried in some textbook, you are always eating few pieces of fruit during the third break — strawberries, just like your lip balm, are your favorite, then your are eating lunch at the far corner of the cafeteria where you are looking out of the window and mostly, he memorized how you would always push your skirt down — how your tits would strain against your blouse and how you would apply your lip balm with that cute pout — there’s a individual obsession just with your lips and he wonders if they taste just as sweet as the look…and from what he has seen, you are also super sweet. He doesn’t talk to you, he wants to, but it’s way more fun making you flustered when you catch him staring. He wonders if you like him, because you are shy around literally everyone, however he wants to say that he is the one. He didn’t talk to you, just observed you, waiting for the golden opportunity to arrive and when the teacher goes to hand him his test he sees it.

Han notices the teacher’s frown before even seeing his score. “Do something about it, buddy…” Sighs out Mr. Lee, his tone almost sounding fatherly. Pity is the last thing Han wants, and he knows his friends won’t offer it anyway. They laugh at his score, loudly cheering when one of them matches it. Zero, in bold red and circled, just as he expected. He’s never been good at this sort of thing — put him in an English class and he will score the highest, when it comes to a physics test, only one person can do that.

Han looks up from the paper, eyes going back to the front and he has to hide a small smile appearing on his face, when he sees you already looking at him. Just from the corner of your eye, subtly, masking it as if you are looking at the teacher who happens to reach your desk at that moment. You tried to be sneaky, but when you met his eyes, you instantly look away, almost giving yourself a whiplash. “Good job, Y/N.” Says the teacher and you flash him a small smile of gratitude, putting your 100% marked test on your desk. And then Han sees it.

Maybe it’s easier than he thought.

────

You already sprayed the entire capsule of your portable perfume on yourself. You are sweating from head to toe and you for the first time wished that you were wearing anything other than your uniform right now. Even if your tie is loose, it feels like it’s choking you, scratching at your neck. You also hope no one, especially him, can smell your nerves. You feel like you died a little when you caught him staring again and you know, you can’t possibly face him anymore. You are already in rush you want to say, few hours of classes still ahead of you, so when you dash out the door that’s your excuse. Though can’t help, but wonder if he will ever talk to you and just as the thought crosses your mind, you hear someone call out to you.

“Y/N—“ The well known voice sings out your name. You feel your heart jumping, stopping in the packed hallway. You feel so many eyes on you right now, the cheerleaders few feet away from you, glaring daggers at you. You are already feeling hot, but now you are sweating just from the way he said your name. To be honest you thought he didn’t even know you which is kind of stupid — you always catch him looking at you, but you want to say that it is just a coincidence every single time. You slowly turn around and you breathe out shakily when he literally jumps right in front of you.

Han breathes heavily, chest rising up and down and you can’t look at him when his shirt is so open that you think he should be dress coded. Your eyes fall onto his tie instead, hanging low on his neck, but you still see the bright smile on his face. You don’t even want to think about how you two look next to each other. You — hugging your textbooks close to your chest as much as possible to calm your racing heart, hair sticking to your sweaty skin and him — shining brighter than a star, effortlessly gorgeous and confident in his stance.

He pushes his hair back, eyes wide to get a full look at you. You are slouching a little to appear smaller and he almost coos at how cute you look, however his eyes go a little lower and not in innocent manner. No one can judge him for looking down your blouse when your tits are perfectly smashed together and thinking about licking your salty sweat off them. His nose is hit with a big whiff of your perfume and it’s so intoxicating that he almost doubles over. When you push your glasses up on your nose, it pulls him out of the magic spell your perfume held him in. “Are you free after school?” He should’ve said it differently, but the look on your face was definitely worth it.

Your lips parted, finally glancing up at him. You can’t believe those words left his mouth. You feel your heart pounding, ears ringing. However when you give a small glance your eyes drift behind him instead. “Ehm…” Your eyes fall on his friends, leaning on the lockers and staring right at the two of you. They have their lips turned up into smiles and you hope it’s not what you think it is. This can’t be just some kind of joke, because when your eyes drift back to Han his eyes are shinning with hope. “Why?” You ask, quietly not being able to look at him fully from how intensely his stare is.

“Well—“ Han notices your attention drifting off, eyes going back and forth between him and something behind him. He frowns, turning around to look back and when he sees his friends he almost screams. They are visible making you uncomfortable and even if their smiles were nothing, but teasing, he doesn’t want you looking anywhere else than him. With the first word still on the tip of his mouth, he blocks your view with his body, resulting in him standing right in front of you. “You’re really good at Mr. Lee’s class.” Han could have gotten to the point a long time ago, but he purposely makes this small conversation last longer, just to shake you up a bit more.

You feel heat traveling to your face, eyes glaring at his tie, but now he is way closer. The fact he is not afraid to walk into your personal bubble should make you uncomfortable and it in some point does, but it also awakens butterflies in your stomach. You become giddy inside and you can’t hide the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, but it quickly fell at his intense look. “Thank you.” You whisper in question, perfectly done eyebrows rising to your forehead at disbelief. Han bites his lips, just like you are doing right now, completely unknowingly and he swears he can taste the strawberries on your mouth from here.

“Will you tutor me?” He asks and you have to step back a little to glance at him better, because you can’t breathe from how close he keeps getting. You pause at the ‘will’, he already knows that you won’t say no. “I suck so bad at physics and if I don’t do good at the next exam, I’m done. Mr. Lee said you are the only one who can safe me.” He says, exaggerating with his big expressions. He huffs, frowns and mostly looks at you with big puppy eyes.

Han drowns in your bashful state when he says the last sentence, you trying not to melt at his feet from the tone of his voice. You are just so overly taken back by this interaction that it is kind of hard to fully take it all in. You are already shocked that he walked up to you, talked to you and now he wants — no, needs your help? You don’t know if you can take it. “I-I—“ Your mouth is open, words at the tip of your tongue. However your mind is empty as you are not even sure what to say to him. Your mind goes back to his smirking friends and then to those jealous cheerleaders whose glares you still feel on your back. So much attention at once and mostly from him. Han waits, hands in his pockets, but both of you already know what you are going to say next. “I-I guess, I can—“

Han claps, the sound startling you, but he doesn’t see it as he looks at ceiling in greatfulness, though you don’t know it is mostly because of something else. “Thank you, Y/N! You’re a savior!” You shrink back at his loud voice, few people passing by you whispering to themselves. You feel hot, ready to pass out. You didn’t say yes, but also not no, you are not really sure what you wanted more — to go home after school or tutor him, well, he seems to know the answer for you. “Meet me before the school after?” Han says, already jumping back to walk back to his friends.

Your shuttering is cute, glasses fogging up at the bottom from your heavy sigh. “Oh, yeah!” Your voice breaks at the end and you want the floor to swallow you whole, but he only flashes you one of his dazzling smiles at the sound.

You stand there frozen in your spot, looking at him with small disbelief. You are already full of anxiety from just imagining yourself talking to him, he on the other hand only feels delight. He beams brightly, ignoring the remarks from his friends to look back at you for the last time. His eyes fall to the back of your thighs, hand keeping up your right sock up and he just can’t wait to see your skin up close again.

────

You are for the rest of the day on high alert, but at the same time and for the first, you see yourself not paying too much attention to your classes. Your hands are shaking, lip quivering. You don’t see Han anymore till lunch, however your eyes are staring into your book, though not even reading. He watched you the whole time, like usually, but other than lunch he didn’t go near you. You noticed that, but maybe you are just delusional, maybe those other times he actually wasn’t really everywhere near you, just like now. Maybe you are actually reading too much into things.

Han on the other hand really tried hard not to go near you. A lot of people were whispering about how there’s something going on between him and the nerdy, shy girl — well, not yet, he wants to say. He stays away from you to make you even more nervous and after school when he finally will meet up with you, you will be all shaken up, shuttering cutely like you always do.

When you stepped out of the school, the sun was already setting. You felt exhausted, but at the same time not at all, because you know you will not be able to relax because of him. For whatever reason…You stood at the end of the stairs to the main entrance, watching people walk by you, chatting. You kept looking down at your phone, reading the time minute by minute. It was getting really late for you and your heart kept beating faster the longer you stood there.

Han thinks he literally breathes just because of you. He can’t help those feelings and the thoughts running through him when he watches you stand there under the stairs, waiting for him. Your hair is tucked behind your ears, glasses hanging low on your nose and he melts when you nervously shift your weight from foot to foot. The way his heart skips a beat when he sees you move to turn around and walk away, breaks him and yet again it pulls him out his thoughts. He can’t let you get away, not when you are already so close, so he runs to catch up with you.

You hear heavy footsteps behind you and you are again startled by a booming voice. “Y/N, wait!” Han yells at you and your ears ring from just how loud he always is. You turn subtly around and he shakes his head at your unusual posture. It looks like you are guarding yourself. “Where are you going?” He asks you, puffing out air.

Shrugging softly, your eyes fall on the lit lamps around you and then the Moon. “Well it’s kind of late…” You are surprised by your leveled voice, but when you turn to look at him your voice dies at the end. You hate when you do that, it’s so embarrassing and even more when infront of him. You are actually surprised he even showed up, because you were really starting to think, it really was a joke after all, but how could you think that? He is so sweet…however, when looking at you, he thinks the exact opposite of himself.

Han is starting to panic a little at your words, walking around you to get a better look at you. “Huh?” He exclaims, glancing at his reflection in your glasses. “You promised to tutor me.” He pouts then, furrowing his eyebrows. You don’t hear the little fake tone in his voice, but his hurt expression melts your guard a little.

You didn’t promise him anything or did you? You can’t even think right now. “The library is closed.” You state softly.

He fights the urge to smirk, smiling only a little. “Yeah, I know.” He definitely knows. “I was thinking about going over to my place…to study of course.” Han drinks up your flustered state, the moment the words left him, you turned away so he wouldn’t see your face of shock. He can taste your shyness on his lips already and he is slowly starting to shake in excitement when you turn back to him.

The thought of going back to his place…it never crossed your mind. You definitely can’t handle being in a basically locked room where there would be just the two of you. On the other hand, you can’t say that the thought isn’t making you curious. “I don’t know…” You mumble, glancing at him briefly.

“Come on—“ He pressed, taking a bold step closer to you. “I won’t keep you up late.” Now there’s that smirk and when you timidly nod, he wants to kneel before you right then and there. The excitement pumping in him almost makes his veins burst, cheeks flushing just by the thought of you sitting on his bed and talking with that cute voice of yours. “Come on then, I won’t bite. It will be just the two of us, don’t worry.” Of course, he didn’t pay his roommate to stay out of their shared flat tonight.

‘Yeah, that’s what worries me’, you think. He walks you two back to his place, you keeping a small distance from him and he definitely didn’t like that. He lets you though, he would let you do anything and everything. Walking with you, his steps are quick, just to have more time with you inside his room. He really wants to know what is going on in the little head of yours. He wants to get under your skin, know your biggest likes and dislikes, fears and desires — what makes you shake. Han is acting crazy around you and you don’t even see it. You are so smart, but also such a dummy...He needs to show you, make you feel what you deserve.

The walk is silent, but it doesn’t take long before you two are standing in the elevator, waiting for it to lift you up to the 10th floor. It’s unusually quiet, no parties, no one in your way and he sees it as a blessing. You are not looking at him, even when you finally get into his shared apartment, but he knows he has your attention. He licks his lips, dry and thirsty and his whole head is spinning when he enters his room with you right behind him.

Your eyes go around his room, genuinely surprised by how clean it is. The walls are full of movie posters, musicians — your eyes land on his desk which is messy on the other hand. When you see the known magazine peeking out of the scattered papers, you instantly feel heat rising to your cheeks. You realize that he has been watching you the whole time when you glance at him and you are weakened by his look. His fingers play with the blue tie around his neck, nibbling at the material, loosening it and you breathe out sharply at the sight.

He finally has you in his room, he couldn’t believe it. “Take a seat.” Han says, gesturing to his unmade bed. Your eyes widened a little and his on the other hand close a little when your fingers just barely graze over his duvet.

“Here?” You mumble, playing with the strap of your shoulderbag.

He laughs, he has to. “Don’t act like you have never been in a boy’s room before.” He snickers, pulling out his phone from his pocket, but he doesn’t hear anything from you. His heart beats faster and he can’t help, but look somehow excited by your silence. “Fuck…really?” He is in disbelief, looking at you, just as you take a seat on the edge of his bed.

He is smiling wide and you thankfully don’t see it, attention on your sock clad feet instead. You are embarrassed to admit it and also too shy to lie. You can’t never lie or say no, it angers you a little, but Han could do that for you if you let him. He could be your voice, yours everything if you let him. Seeing you sitting on his bed, arched back as you fumble inside your bag is not helping him keep his sanity. Your tucked blouse rides up, exposing the skin of your lower back and he has to distract him by going through his playlist.

When you take out your small notebook and your phone, you suddenly hear a soft hum of music from behind you. Turning around, you see Han putting down his speaker which is playing a way too inappropriate song to listen to while studying. The low bass makes you vibrate and the thoughts of doing something completely different fill your mind. Why does he have to keep doing that? He is getting under your skin with his smooth moves and what you want to say, flirting. You don’t even know what it stands for really, maybe playing music while walking to your bed to lay down you means nothing.

“Won’t that be distracting you?” You wonder out loud, eyes still on the speaker even if he goes to sit on the bed with you.

“Not really.” He says, while looking at you. “Just don’t want you to hear my thoughts.” He whispers and you shiver at the tone of his voice, however you masked it well by shuffling a little more up on the bed. His eyes immediately fall down your shirt, watching your tits jump from your moves and he swears he can see the lace of your bra — was it baby pink?

“So what do you need help with?” You cough in your hand not to shutter again and it worked out well for you. You push for glasses up your nose, fanning your skirt so it drapes over your thighs, but from his point of view, he still can thankfully see your skin.

“Everything, honestly.” He laughs shortly.

You nod. “Let’s start with the basics then—“

You swear, he does it on purpose. Pushing his hair back, leaning back on his hands, looking with you with that twinkle in his eyes again and again. You don’t know what it is, you are not sure if you want to know. Every time your mouth would open, his attention drifts away, yet he looks only at you. You can see it in his eyes that he is somewhere else and it definitely reflected in his answers. Every one was incorrect and you don’t want to say that you are starting to get frustrated, but you explained everything to him at least twice, you told him a couple of good ways how to solve the questions, but no.

Also, something else didn’t help you keep your cool either. His room was awfully hot, even worse than a school’s classroom. You want to say it’s the weather, not those fuckboy-like songs — his playlist is vile or the way his also sweaty chest glistened in the city’s lights. The soft night breeze couldn’t reach your skin nor the sounds of cars under his window, you were really starting to drown in yourself. Han kept getting closer and closer, subtly, but after half an hour, it became clear to you. He was sitting in the middle of the bed, like the textbooks, while half of your ass was basically hanging out of the bed. If he gets any closer you think you will start to hyperventilate.

Han of course noticed your behavior. It surely must be because of him, your voice kept going lower, quieter, the more he shuffled closer to you. Your skin was almost drenching with sweat and the way your perfume flooded his whole room, he thinks, he will never open his bedroom window ever again. He can’t say that he also isn’t sweating and you definitely noticed that, because your eyes kept drifting to his naked chest. Maybe he should’ve changed and maybe he should’ve let you borrow something, so he then could cuddle with it later, but it would only ruin his fantasy.

He smiles again at your cute frown of frustration, it’s nice seeing something different on your face. Your pretty voice starts to melt more into the song, the more he looks at you. Never had been in a boys room…huh, he wonders if you have ever been with anyone before. One side is telling him yes, because — fuck, look at you. The school’s uniform looks on you way more sinful that it should and also your plush body, pink lips and pretty eyes hidden behind your glasses. Also you are a sweet person! Why does he keep forgetting about that? You are way more than your looks, you have brains and also charm that you don’t even know about. He wants to do more with you than just this, way more, but his filthy thoughts win over. On the other hand, you are just so shy, has someone ever tasted you? Suck at your pretty neck and tits, grabbed a handful of your ass? Tongue fucked you? Pulled your hair? Choked you? Bit you, mark you up…

“Why are you so tense, Y/N?” He cuts you off, not even realizing it, till your lips press into thin line. “Loosen up a little.”

You sigh, putting down your notebook to pull at your tie. “It’s just so hot…” You feel sweat dripping down your back a little, inner thighs glued together, because you didn’t change your position once in fear you would flash him. ‘Pity’, he thinks, staring at you while pulling off your tie with your painted nails — baby pink, just like your lips.

You literally have him wrapped around your finger, how can you not see it? Maybe if you would for once look at him in the eyes for long enough than you would see it. His eyes like to always drift lower and he just can’t help it when you look like that. Why do you? And why do you not see it yourself? Fuck, he wants to show you how pretty you are…He can’t go any longer, his mind is already all over the place and when he sees a glimpse of your bra, he has to fist his pants. Baby pink, like he imagined — he wonders if it matches.

“Yeah, that blouse is…tight.” Han almost moans out loud, but he thankfully bites down his on lip just in time, silencing that sound. Your own eyes drift to your blouse and then back at him. “You can take it off—“ He voices out his thoughts.

You are bewildered, in disbelief from what he just said. He doesn’t even seemed a little bit moved by his own words, leaning back on his hands, eyes fully on you. Did he look into your textbook at least once? Why didn’t you realize that it was on the same page the whole time? Maybe you were too occupied with trying to sound cool and collected and his nonstop staring didn’t help at all. “I don’t think you are even paying attention.” You sigh, playing with the fabric of your skirt.

“How so?” He asks, eyes going over your body and trying to memorize how it looks in the softly lit room.

“Well, you didn’t answer any of my questions right…” Which doesn’t mean, he was not paying attention, but his eyes tell you that you are right. In your state of pushing up your glasses again, you jump slightly in your seat when he sifts his weight to lean closer to you. “Why are you so close?” You ask, lump forming at the back of your throat.

Han stops moving, sitting right infront of you and trying to have a better look at eyes, but there is only the reflection of your phone screen in your glasses, preventing him from doing so. “Ask me again and if I answer correctly, I’ll get a treat.”

You frown. “Why?” You ask him.

“Motivation.”

There is short silence, the only noise being the music coming from his speaker. You take a small look around his room, squirming in your seat. “What do you mean by a treat? I don’t have any sweets…” You say, confused.

He wonders if you are truly so innocent and oblivious or if you are just playing with him. The sincere tone of your voice though told him everything he needed to know. A treat…he bets your lips taste like one. Han moves even closer, moving away your textbooks and you watch him with careful eyes. “I meant you.” He says smoothly with a cheeky smile and you are smacked across the face with his words.

He surprises you way too much and each time it’s a bigger surprise. You almost choke on your own spit, looking at him with wide eyes. “Oh! Oh, I-I…” And you are shuttering again, like always, but he never seems to mind. You are definitely not capable of talking right now, no words running through your mind, only him. Your hand grasping your phone is shaking and he at that points down at it.

“Ask me.”

You take a deep breath, a couple actually, because it’s seems like you can’t find it. Han’s stare is hard, unmoving from your eyes and you have to look down at your phone. Your thumb hovers over the screen, asking yourself if you should keep going. You are already feeling goosebumps on your sweaty skin, just from the thought of him doing something to you, but…what if he doesn’t answer correctly? Han can’t be serious right now…With your heart hammering against your chest, you scroll down the list of questions, trying to find the hardest one, because you don’t know what you would do if he answers it correctly. You don’t know if you want him to, you don’t know what you want. What does he want? You can’t help, but be curious and scared at the same time.

Han can see your internal struggle, but nothing about your body language is telling him, you don’t actually want him. “When a police officer uses a radar gun to measure a vehicle’s speed, what type of speed is measured? “ You ask, blinking at him in the lightly lit room, voice small. You actually think that this question is not even that hard, but seeing him having trouble with the other ones, you are curious what his answer will be.

Han fights to not smirk, while staring at you and he likes how your breath hitches when he confidently pushes all the things on the bed to the floor. “Instantaneous Acceleration.” He leans closer to you and you are having hard time to back away, watching him with mouth open as he puts your phone away.

“That’s correct…” You whisper in small disbelief, because you are starting to think he’s been playing with all along. However you can’t think much about it when he goes to sit right infront you.

Han is shaking inside when he leans over you, you fanning your pretty eyelashes at him and he swears you have never looked prettier. His eyes as well as his hand fall to your exposed leg. He hears the short, sharp intake of air, feeling goosebumps appearing on your skin as he trails his hand up and down. You are silent, squirming a little from how cold his hand is, but he quickly warms it up on your own skin. You are looking at him with big eyes, lips parted as his other hand comes to caress your cheek. Your chest keeps rising rapidly and you know, he can feel your skin lighting on fire. You watch his eyes fall to your lips and yours to his by reflex. “Just a kiss, Y/N.” His voice is like honey, his breath hitting your lips.

The hand on your leg stops at the meat of your thigh and when you feel his thumb rubbing small circles on your cheekbone you are in a daze. “Just one…” You whisper back, mostly to yourself, playing with your fingers nervously.

Han was right — you do taste like strawberries. You are sweet in taste and also in your moves. With your hazy state, he sees the opportunity to let his hand travel to your waist, squeezing immediately. A small noise of surprise falls from lips, just as he leaned to kiss you softly. However the moment he tastes you, the moment he feels the subtle touch of his lips over yours, the moment you made that sound — he needed more. The hand on your waist pulls you closer and at the same time, he presses his lips harder against yours.

You are trying to catch your breath through your nose, but it’s only taken away from you when moves his head to the side to lick into your mouth. Your head is empty, hands gripping at the fabric of your skirt as you try to at least keep up with him. His lips mold into yours, spit gathering in his mouth from hunger. When you poke your tongue against his he looses it. You are overwhelmed and he is not getting enough. Han wants to slurp at your spit, drink you whole in. He wants you to take over his own body, but at the same time, he wants to have you under him. Writhing in pleasure, fidgeting nervously from every move he makes, just like now.

He sticks his tongue in your mouth, tangling it with yours and he groans lowly at that. Your lips meet in nasty sounds that are perfectly mixing with the music he put on — it was perfect. The hand on your waist travels to the front, squishing the soft rolls of your tummy forming by how you are sitting. Even now you are trying to make yourself smaller, but he definitely won’t let you get away. You were so occupied by kissing him back that you let out a loud gasp when he suddenly bites down at your lip.

You pull away from him a little, the best you could do anyway, because he has you in a very tight grip. “Han! What are you doing?” You gasp out, bottom lip tingling in small pain.

Han is out of breath, a little disappointed to be pulled away so soon from you, but when he looks down at swollen lip, it didn’t matter too much. “Kissing you?” He says, smiling breathlessly and looking over your body. He can feel the weight on his hands, but also you are slightly frozen over, looking down at your lap. “Do you want to stop?”

He hopes not, he can’t live on otherwise. The hand holding your delicate face drifts down to your neck, pushing away strands of your hair to lean closer to you. His nose is hit with your sweet perfume again, eyes almost rolling back into his head. Seeing that you are not pushing him away, he leans down to kiss your skin. It tickles you, startles you from how good it feels to have his lips on your neck. He keeps distracting you with his moves, his mouth and you have to squeeze his shoulders to win his attention back. “Han, I—“

“Sorry, just can’t help it.” He whines out and you have to bite at your abused lip to silence your own sounds. You are not even recognizing yourself, while glancing at your reflection in his mirror. His body hovers over yours, both of yours legs almost tangled and you watch him pull away from you just to look down your shirt. “Do they hurt?” You are taken back by his question, following his eyes, seeing him look down your blouse.

Han is way more bold than he himself expected to be, but he can’t do anything other than act on his desires. “No…” Your bottom lip is pouts out and he almost goes to kiss you again, but he decides do something else.

You are gasping, hot breath hitting his face when his hands grasp your underboob. You are chewing already on your lip, watching his hands wrap around your tits, blunt nails digging into your skin. He definitely can feel your nipples hardening when he squeezes both of your tits at the same time. A small whimper leaves your lips and you have to shut your eyes in embarrassment.

Fuck, he knows that he probably looks crazy right now, when he literally drools over the sight of his hands on your tits. The tips of his fingers nibble at your blouse, pushing it to the side to reveal your bra to him. He is in shock that you actually wear something like that to school when someone could just take a peak or spill something over you. The almost see through fabric wraps around you so nicely, cute little bow in the middle and his thumb flickers hungrily over the soft skin spilling over the top. “Hmm, your bra looks really tight…are you sure?” You choked out another sound when he gropes your tits. “You want a massage? You’re always so tense, Y/N—“

You whine, pressing your hand over your mouth when he latches his lips on your nipple, taking the material of your blouse and even your bra inside his mouth. He can taste your perfume, the softener you use, but mostly you. His eyes are still on your scrunched up face, even while drooling over you. “Fuuuuck, look at you—“ When he bites down at your nipple a soft, shy moan leaves you.

“Han…” You breathe heavily, hands in your lap shaking from his mouth on your breast. He switches to your right nipple while his fingers twist and pull at the other. You are trembling already, shivering when he suddenly blows cold air on you. You look drown at him with your eyes droopy, glasses fogged up at the bottom and he definitely doesn’t look any better.

His plump lips are red and swollen, spit all over his mouth and when he leans away from you, you finally see what he has done to you. Your white blouse is soaked through, pink bra showing under the now see through material and you still feel your nipples tingling when he pulls you closer to him. “Closer, come closer—“ His voice is whiny, stuck at the back of his throat. You watch him spread his legs out, caging your body and when he taps both of his thighs you are startled a little.

“On your lap?” You bite your lip, looking at him from beneath your glasses. Han is already nodding his head, pulling you closer to him, scrunching up the material of your shirt between his fingers. His cock is already straining against his pants, twitching at the sight of you. Your skirt rides up when you shuffle your way to him and his hands are already on your waist, eagerly pushing you down on him. And when you did — oh, he almost fucking cums right when your pretty, clothed pussy falls on his cock. “Yeah, that’s it —move a little–“

He is already putting pressure on your hips and you can’t even breathe at that moment. You can feel him under you and it sparks up something in you that you have never felt before. You are embarrassed that you can already feel your underwear sticking to your slick, hands shaking on his wide shoulders. From this angle you see him in new light and he is glowing. His eyes are comically wide, tongue poking out his mouth when he just barely grazes his crotch over yours. “Han, I’ve never..” You whimper at the end, too weak to stop him from moving against you.

His hands are gripping your hips rather painfully, he is aware, but when his cock grazes over your pussy, he blacks out. “It’s okay, let me show you, yeah? Want you to feel good, you want that right? You deserve it so much—“ His mouth is full of you, kissing down your neck. He licks a long stripe over your pulse, wrapping his lips around the pumping vein just to suck at it. Fuck, he is really getting under your skin…

Your hand falls to the back of his neck, crying at how hard he sucks your skin in his mouth, making you burry your nails into his skin and he literally growls. He doesn’t stop at that though, his lips move way lower, right to the skin peaking out of your bra. His saliva drips down your neck to that spot and he sure sees it as a sight to mark it up. You are already calling out his name and he is kind of disappointed in himself that he told his roommate to go, because you definitely deserved to be heard. Your moans, whimpers, choked sighs — no, those are his, his only. He is thriving with the fact that he is the one making you feel like this and he is hoping that he will be the only one.

He needs more of you, he thinks, while nibbling at the soft skin of your breasts. Han pulls away from the spot with a pop! and to his delight you are already looking at him with those glossy eyes of yours. “Someone will see that!” Your voice is still so soft, even if you at trying your hardest to sound angered.

Han glances back to the spot, where a purple hickey is forming and he has to go over it with his fingers. “I don’t care and you shouldn’t either.” Your lips fall into thin line, silent moan coming out of you when he squeezes your tits. Your body looks absolutely sinful in his hands — glasses on your nose almost falling off, neck covered with love bites, white blouse hanging off your shoulders, exposing your pretty tits covered in that pink bra and your legs? You keep squeezing them around him to relief yourself and that makes him grab a hand full of your ass to push your cunt against his cock. “Come on, Y/N, make yourself cum…” Han is literally in heaven when your hips jump forward and when your face shows a shock by the sudden pleasure you start doing it more. “Like that yeahhhh-“

Your breathing is heavy, hands grasping his shoulders, holding for dear life. He wonders if you ever humped your pillow, because you are moving like you did — he has to buy you a pillow with his face on it. He leans back on his hand to get a better look at you. You are pouting, huffing, trying so desperately not to let out any sounds but, he is not having it. His hand pushes your skirt up, just so his hand can meet your cheek with a nasty slap.

The sound echoes in the room and you finally let out a moan, the stinging pain quickly melting into pleasure. “Fuck, I can feel your pussy soaking my cock–“ Han grits through his teeth, his own hips jumping to bump into yours. “You are so pretty — so fucking pretty…you like when I call you that?” Humming, he watches your face become beet red even if your skin is dark in the soft light of his room. He can feel your legs shaking, his hands traveling to your ass to abuse it between his fingers. It almost looks like Han is only using you for his own pleasure and he kind of is.

He is huffing, groaning, spit gathering in his mouth from the sight of you bouncing on him. His hands on your ass jiggle the fat and you whimper in small embarrassment that is only being swallowed by his mouth. Your mouth is basically just hanging open, letting him tongue fuck you, because you can’t simply keep up with his moves. You are already out of breath, hips jumping wildly in pleasure and you know you are on the edge as well as him when he slap your ass again to gain your attention.

“Gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum on this cock — fuck, yeah. Make it messy, Y/N, because I want you to soak through my pants, so every time I wear them, I think of you humping your pussy on me—“ A sharp moan leaves you, feeling the rumbling in your lower tummy. You are having a hard time keeping up with your own pleasure, whining from the pain in your thighs, but he thankfully takes over. Han fucks into you rapidly, eyes drifting from your bouncing tits that are falling out of your bra back to your face of euphoria. “That’s it, such a good girl–“

With a loud moan you burry your face into his neck, cumming hard over him. Your legs are shaking from pain and pleasure, eyes blurry with tears. Han is smiling breathlessly like a crazy man, caressing your head, smoothing down your hair. He can feel your hot cunt leaking, cream from your orgasm staining the black material of his pants. His hold is soft, letting you ride out your high just because his minds keeps spinning in images and the image of him burring his face into your spend cunt is one of them.

You are thrown onto the bed and you can’t do much against it in your exhaustion. You sigh when he comes to hover over you, your eyes automatically going to his open shirt and you almost drool at the sight of his abs and tiny waist. “Fuck, baby you are amazing—“ You close your eyes, shying away from him a little and he laughs at that. “Always so shy…” You hum in agreement to his surprise and he at that goes back to suck more at your neck. His bites are mean and also his bold hands that grope everything in their way. His nose tickles your ear, his hot breath hitting your skin. Your hands finally rest upon him, just barely, but he can feel your fingers at the bottom of his shirt. When he looks down is eyes however don’t fall on your fingers, but at the spot right between your legs. Your thigh high socks are still by some miracle, digging into the skin of your inner thighs. Your skirt is flipped up, so he has a perfect view of your underwear and how he hoped, it fucking matched.

The lacy material is already ruined by your leaking pussy and when he if looks carefully enough he can see the outline of your folds. “Holy shit, look at that!” He leans back into his knees while you press your face into his pillow in embarrassment. How can you be so shy when you literally rode his cock just few minutes ago? He thinks, he’s in love…

The panties are deliciously digging into your hips, thighs just begging to be wrapped around his head and how could he resist that. Han shuffles down the bed rather quickly, mouthing at your thigh next and you are left trembling again. You are already exhausted, yet you think you want more — need more. You are curious about what else he can do to make you not feel like yourself anymore. The skin of your inner thighs is sensitive, you know that, because you sometimes like to pinch the skin between your fingers, just like he is doing it with his teeth. “Sensitive—“ You warn him, shuttering as he bites and licks at your thighs.

He looks up to you, not stopping however and then the tip of his tongue is hit with sweetness. His head is already so close to your pussy, but he has to lick up all of your juices from your skin firstly, just replacing it with his spit. “Let me eat your pussy, I need it…I swear, I will make you feel so good—“ You are already nodding your head, fisting the sheets, just as he hooks his finger in your underwear. “Let me blow your mind, baby.”

Han almost pulls out his phone to take a picture, because he has never seen a pussy so pretty. From your orgasm it’s a little swollen, red, clit just begging to be sucked into his mouth. He can smell your arousal from here, but he needs you closer — he needs to drown in you. His hands slide your body down and you yelp form how easily he did that, letting him push your legs up to your chest. You want to cry from his blown out pupils, tongue hanging from his mouth and then finally watching him press the slick muscle against you.

Your body jerks from the new feeling, a little puzzled by it, but you can’t really think straight, when he starts to fuck you with his mouth. Han’s eyes are rolled back into his head, while slurping you all up, sucking at your labia, your hole, just barely letting his tongue slide in and flicking your puffy clit. He can feel it pulsating in his mouth, smacking his lips at your taste — strawberries and cream. Han can’t get enough of how soft you feel, cock painfully pressing against his pants, however it only makes it feel better. The pain combined with the pleasure of eating your cunt is the most erotic thing he has ever felt.

“S-slow down!” A pathetic plea leaves you, but he doesn’t hear it. His nose is buried in you so deep that he has trouble breathing, face becoming red from the low intake of oxygen. He doesn’t need oxygen when he is breathing in something much more pleasurable. He can’t fight his hips from humping against his bed. The hands on the back of your thighs push them further to your chest, letting him press his mouth into your leaking hole. His tongue flattens, licking a long stripe from the rim of your ass to your clit. “Han!” So sweet and tight…

Your pussy sucks his tongue right in, even if you are shaking from overstimulation. He needs to feel you orgasm on his tongue, so he is on a mission to make you cum as fast as possible, just to taste more of you. “How do you taste so good? It’s the fucking strawberries, you always eat, I swear-“ You are literally crying, tears streaming down your face and his hips flew away from the bed, because he almost cums in his pants.

Your hand comes to push his head away simple because you can’t even think from hard he is pressing his tongue against you. Your pussy is on fire, liquid lava filling up your tummy and you literally scream when he starts to slurp meanly at you. The sound is so loud, hand shaking and just lying on his head. You can’t control your trembling body and when he starts to shake his head from side to side, you are crying out, pleading for him to just slow down a little, but he only starts to suck your whole pussy into his mouth. “Han! F-feels weird, ah!” You want to push his head away, but he is acting like possessed, nails digging into your skin and you know there are definitely going to be bruises.

Han can’t stop, not when he tastes the hot cream leaking from your hole, smearing all over his chin. He is shaking inside, because he knows, why you are warning him and that makes him go even harder. His tongue is numb, lips red, but when he goes to suck at your clit, he hears that moan again. Your eyes are wide open, back arching when he nibbles at your nub and this orgasm almost takes you out.

He sees your eyes rolling back into your head and then he feels you squirt all over him, coating his face and bed in your pleasure. His lips are parted, drinking you up and he wants to cry at your beautiful state. “So, good—“ Han is whining, hips jumping in the air, looking at your squirting pussy. Your holes spasm, your painfully swollen slit pulsating on his tongue and he is simply amazed by your body.

“Fuck…” You mumble, feeing your soaked thigh highs melting into you. Han is shocked by the word leaving for pretty lips, while he crawls his way up your exhausted body to kiss you sweetly. You taste yourself on his lips and you have to say you do taste rather sweet. Leaning back, you try to look at him, but your glasses are all the way down your neck, so he puts your glasses back on your nose for you and you immediately sigh in embarrassment at his wet face, shirt and even few strands of his hair. “I’m sorry—“

Han eyes widened at your sad eyes, shaking his head immediately. “No, baby.” He coos, caressing your cheek softly, like he just didn’t make you squirt just by his mouth. He is really a lot to take in. “You did so well for me—“ With each word he kisses a part of your face — your forehead, cheeks, nose, cupid’s bow, before his lips land again on your lips.

“I did?” You shiffle slightly and he feels filthy, because your face is making his cock swell painfully. He needs to cum or he will go mad. You can tell he that he is hurting in his pants, because you can feel his hard cock against your thigh and your eyes quickly fall down to catch a sight of it.

He breaths out in a small disbelief at your move, catching you in act. “Wanna make me feel good too?” Your big eyes gaze at him in wonder. “How about I teach you how to suck a cock?” You sharply gasp at the words coming from his plump lips and he knows that he won’t last long, just by your cuteness. You softly nod your head, just a small shy smile appearing on your face and Han then roughly pushes your cheeks together to maneuver you.

It hurts a little, but you let him guide you to the end of the bed, throwing one of his pillows down on the floor for you to kneel on. You are in a trance, while looking up at him, watching him move down the bed, so his crotch is right before your face. You are looking at his covered cock innocently, hands in your lap. You look heavenly in your post-orgasm state, kneeling before him like a slut…”Come on, baby — pull them down.” Han helps you guide your hands to his zipper, your fingers grazing over him in the process. The sound of the zipper is loud, it rings in your ears like your heartbeat as you watch him push down his pants with his boxers following right after.

Your gasp is delicious, mouth hanging open, eyes only on him. His cock is leaking, droplets of pearly cum coating his flushed, almost purple tip, his balls are swollen, ready to burst at any moment. Han is fully aware that this is your first time seeing someone like this and he really is enjoying himself, because of it. Your eyes keep going up and down, mesmerized by the length and thickness. You don’t know what is considered big, but you are sure Han never let anyone down with his pretty cock.

You watch him closely, when he wraps his hand around himself, squeezing at the base. Han is watching you too — how you bite your lip, how your glasses are slightly dirty from all the activities you two did and how you are keeping a good eye on how he jerks his cock off. “Gimme your hand—“ You are careful, slowly giving him hand. The moment your hand is replaced by his, you sigh in surprise and he groans in pleasure. “Move your hand up and down…yeah, just like that, you are doing so good for me—“ The feeling of him in your hand is weird, but not bad, he feels hard yet squishy and you have to squeeze him to see how it feels. “Fuck! Come closer.”

His hand becomes tangled in your hair and you hiss softly, when he pulls at it, pushing your head closer to him. “Should I lick it?” You asks, shyly, glancing up at him. “Just like you did to me?”

Han wonders where you have been his whole life for a second, before he quickly nods. “Yeah, lick it, baby — suck on the tip too.” Your hot tongue then meets his painful tip and he hears you hum at his taste. Kitten licking it, he pushes your hair away from your face to look at you better.

Your eyes are closed, frown that he knows is from concentration plastered on your face. Your hand is still around him, not moving, maybe because it was too much for your little head to handle, but he still wraps his own hand around yours to move it up his cock. Your eyes shoot open, hand moving now on your own and when you start to kiss at his cock head, he moans in delight. “Squeeze your hand a little…good girl, now suck on my cock—“

Your lips wrap around him, tongue poking at his hole perfectly. You can see why he enjoys giving so much and you definitely want to thank him for that. He’s been so nice to you, making you feel so good. You suck a little harder, mouth already halfway full of him and you for a split second think you may have done it a little too hard, but you are quickly proven wrong.

Han whimpers, the beautiful sound, making you press your legs together. When he pushes your head down further you let him, even if your scalp is on fire from his grip. “Put your hand on my balls and keep your mouth still for me, okay?” You only hum around him, making him whine more. Like he said, your hand unwraps from his cock to travel down his balls, keeping it there and waiting for the next instructions. “Play with them, do what you want with them, while I fuck your mouth.”

You moan around him again, spit pooling out of mouth and down the hand that squeezes his heavy balls. You almost pull away from him when he starts to snap his hips up. You immediately gag around him, breathing through your nose heavily. Han is leaking into your mouth, watching carefully how your throat contracts around him. From having you hump his cock to making you squirt on his tongue and now having your mouth on him, he can’t fight his quickly approaching orgasm.

When your nose and glasses hit the hair on his pubic bone, it makes you gargle a little and he finally knows where he wants his cum. Those fucking glasses — they complement you so well and you look like wet dream right now, his dirty fantasy come true, he wonders what would you do if anyone would catch you like this. The nerdy, shy girl taking a cock down her throat like total slut and being so obedient for the school’s notorious badboy. “Ha! Ahhh, fuck, I’m cumming—“ You suck in air, face red as he suddenly pushes you off him. You look at him, hand still playing with his balls that you feel twitching in your grasp. The cute, confused face makes him groan loudly, his own hand wrapping around his cock. The hand in your hair tightens, pushing your head down to make you kneel down at his feet again. Your eyes caught the sight of him jerking himself off quickly, cock right in your face and you gasp when he cums over you.

Thick ropes of white land on your glasses, making you close your eyes in reflex. Han is moaning loudly, pumping himself dry and he thinks he could cum again just by the sight of your pretty face covered in his cum. “Y/N…” It lands on your glasses, your eyebrow and lips and when you on instinct go lick it off, he knows that it is over for him.

Han Jisung is completely speechless. Your face is covered in him, lips red, body teared apart and covered in his marks. Purples, reds from his selfish lips and hungry hands. Mind empty, only pleasure lingering. He caresses your face softly in a absolute devotion, mirroring your smile of happiness, mixed with exhaustion. He looks down at you, like you are the thing he has been searching for and all that’s left to say is that...you are going to be forever his.

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ghostedbunnie · 6 months ago

Text

nightmare in the daylight

knight!ghost x fem!reader

based on my prompt that you can find here.

warnings: non-con/dub-con, size kink, spanking, oral (f.receiving), fingering (f.receiving), thigh riding, biting, creampie, breeding kink

a/n: i feel so rusty so please be gentle i rewrote this way too many times, it was a lot longer and had more plot but i might just end up writing pt.2 if there is interest, I added a tag list for those who wanted to see this! 🫶

Ghost hadn't anticipated encountering a robbery on the forest trail while en route to collect his king's future wife. It was unexpected but not unwelcome; he was yearning for a skirmish, for blood and broken bones. The recent tranquility had left him restless. These bandits wouldn't pose much of a challenge, but they would at least satisfy his craving.

The skies began to pour as soon as he dismounted from his horse, startling the highwaymen. They were engaged in a one-sided fight with a few knights who had undoubtedly been sent to protect the carriage on its way to his kingdom. Before any of them could react to his arrival, heads started rolling. Chaos erupted once more, with screams of terror cutting through the forest and startling the remaining fauna.

After the final enemy fell to a sword through his abdomen, Ghost approached the carriage with slow, deliberate steps. As he opened the door, he was taken by surprise as a curtain was thrown into his face and a shard of glass was aimed for his neck by a scrawny, wild-looking maid. Despite your trembling, there was a fierce determination in your eyes, a vow that you would not give up without a struggle. Beneath his face plate, the corner of his mouth curled up, and with a wry snort, he deflected the shard from your bleeding hand. Seizing you by the back of your neck like a feisty kitten showing its claws, he pulled you out of the carriage and dropped you onto the chilly, muddy ground. As he turned back to the carriage to retrieve the princess, he realized she was no warrior; she had fainted at the sight of his imposing figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

As he carries your mistress to his horse, you launch at his back, kicking and screaming, trying to make him let her go. He unceremoniously deposits her on the horse like a sack of potatoes. Finally, he turns back to catch your hands, which have been beating at his back, with one of his much bigger hands. Your eyes go wide with terror as the reality of your position with this beast sinks in. He can't help but relish in the look of you now, wet hair sticking to your face, wild eyes, and scratches on your cheek from the broken glass. You look like a tasty meal for his beastly appetite and he's been starving for far too long. You are unaware of it but attracting his attention will be the worst mistake of your life. As he draws you closer with your bound wrists, he whispers into your ear so that you can hear him over the pouring rain, “Yer brave but stupid, girl.” After that, he hits the back of your neck and everything goes black.

The next thing you know, you are standing in front of the king who explains the entire situation. However, somehow that doesn't help the sinking feeling in your stomach, especially when the king mentions a reward for the behemoth of a man towering over you. He is still covered in blood, and daylight doesn't make him any less terrifying. He stalks around like a nightmare in black leathers that hug his form tight and emphasize his width. As if sensing your thoughts, he takes a step closer, taking up more of your space, and before you can move away, you catch the last words uttered by the king: “You brought me, my bride, Ghost, it's only fair you get a reward. Take your pick - anything you wish for will be yours.”

A weighty, gloved paw settles on the nape of your neck, causing you to startle. "I'll take 'er." Your mistress immediately starts to protest but despite her objections, the king simply nods and smiles, disregarding you entirely. You have no option but to allow the beast, that he called Ghost, to guide you away with a firm hand on your nape.

After navigating through several twists and turns, you find yourself in an unremarkable room. It contains only the absolute necessities—a bed and very little else. The one thing that draws your attention in the room is the sizeable tub that is still emitting steam, indicating it was just filled a few minutes ago.

Silently, Ghost pushes you towards the tub, and you promptly begin to retreat away from it. You refuse to bathe in his presence. Even though you are just a servant, you are still a virtuous lady.

“Either you go voluntarily or I'll throw you in kickin' and screamin'.” He growls and then says, "I'll relish it either way." You can sense the predatory undertone in his voice. You're fighting a losing battle, as going willingly gives him complete control, yet resisting might provoke an even more... primal response.

You break free from his hold, realizing that he let you go willingly.

"Can you... turn around?" he scoffs, moving to a chair that creaks under his weight. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he gestures for you to proceed. Though you want to scream or lash out, you hold back, sensing that he's waiting for you to lose control. Instead, you turn around and slowly peel off your muddied and torn dress. As you reach the chemise underneath, you sneak a peek and notice he has removed his helmet and face plate, revealing short dirty blond hair, black coal marks around his eyes, and prominent scars cutting through his lips and brow. Despite his broken nose, he remains strangely alluring, which frightens you. Hastily, you turn back, slide the chemise down, and attempt to hide under the steaming water.

"Good girl," he growls, satisfied with your obedience. Just as the relief that maybe this is all he wanted starts to sink into your bones, it's replaced with dread when you notice he starts shedding his clothes too. He loosens up his dark, blood-stained leathers with ease and deftness you wouldn't expect from a man his size.

"What are you doing?" Panic is evident in your question, but it doesn't seem to bother him at all.

"Can't bathe with my clothes on," he answers matter-of-factly. Once again, a wave of indignation courses through you, but it's quickly overshadowed by a pang of heat that forces you to rub your thighs together underwater. Your eyes can't help but stay glued to him, just as he did to you when you were taking your dress off. He is now down to his breeches, and when he pulls them down his thick thighs, you audibly gasp when you notice he is not wearing anything underneath. This earns you an amused chuckle, especially when he catches you looking again through your fingers.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, but before your thoughts can drift to what lies between his powerful thighs, he steps into the tub with you. Water spills over the edges, though he doesn't seem to mind. He pulls you close, turning you so your back presses against him, your body nestled between his legs, leaning on his firm chest. The light tickle of his hair brushes against your skin, and his strong arm rests across your stomach, fingers splayed making you feel even smaller. The contact makes you squirm, but as you try to pull away, you only stir the hardening length behind you, making you flush with heat.

“Relax,” he grunts into your ear, more command than a suggestion.

“How can I possibly –ah.” Your reply gets cut off by a moan as his other hand falls from the edge of the tub and wanders between your legs. Your attempts at closing your legs seem futile even with one hand he is strong enough to force his way in and drag his fingers through your folds nearing the opening. Your spine arches instinctively and he answers with a nip to your neck and jaw, while forcing a finger up to the first knuckle in.

“Gotta loosen you up a bit, pet.” You have no choice but to surrender to his touch as he sinks his finger in and curls it, drawing a moan out of you before you clap a hand over your mouth to keep the sounds in. But all that decorum is forgotten when he adds a second one and scissors them before slowly prodding you with the third making you see stars. The tension building in your body suddenly snaps, sending you reeling, legs going numb and your fingers digging into his arm still wrapped around your stomach.

With your mind hazy from your first-ever orgasm, you don't even register that he pulls you out of the bath, drying you, and carrying you to the bed in the center of the spacious room. Your body already half asleep.

His gravelly voice pulls you out of your post-orgasmic haze. “Naive, little thing.” Suddenly he is trailing hungry, open-mouthed, and nippy kisses down the length of your body. Marking your neck and collarbones with angry red marks, biting down harder than necessary on the underside of your breast leaving behind imprints of his teeth, and making you hiss when the pain mixes with the pleasure, he licks a trail down your stomach and in a moment of clear-headedness you try to fist his hair and tug him up and away from your center but his hair is cut too short for any leverage. When you lock eyes with him, between your legs forcing them open with hunger and lust written all over his face you try to get away just for him to deliver a loud smack to your outer thigh before dragging you closer and licking a stripe through your folds with a loud guttural groan that you feel more than you hear it.

His thumb circles your clit while he alternates kissing, sucking, and fucking you with his tongue. When your squirming in an attempt to get away turns into grinding your hips against his face, his other hand rests on your stomach adding slight pressure and making you cry out which only spurs him on. The sounds that reverberated through his chest were nothing short of animalistic and when your second orgasm shot through your core, you fell limp against the sheets with a moan that would make you blush if at least half of your brain was still functioning properly. A new wave of panic sets in when you realize that he isn't stopping. On the contrary, he probes you with his fingers in addition to his tongue. You can feel the coil in your lower belly tightening again, heating up with his ministrations.

You plead with him, saying you can't take anymore just for him to disregard it with a growl, “You've got plenty more in ya.”

You've lost count of how many times you came when he manhandled you around onto your hands and knees propping your hips up with a pillow. You turn to look at him with heavy-lidded eyes and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him standing behind you with his massive hand tugging at his thick, angry-looking, and leaking cock with his eyes glued to your core, still pulsing and wet from all your previous orgasms. Without warning he grabs your hips, aligns the blunt head of his cock with your entrance, and pushes in. Your fingers dig into the sheets from the sheer stretch as you mewl and whimper when he drags himself all the way to slam back in. Everything is too much and not enough at the same time, with every thrust his fingers dig into your hips and you are sure there will be fingerprints left with how hard he is gripping you and the idea makes you wetter. Prompted by the delicious drag of his cock your walls keep tightening around him, as he pushes you closer and closer to your release. One of his muscular arms circles your waist, his chest flush to your back, as his other arm comes to rest next to your head with one of his legs still firmly planted on the floor and the other resting next to you on the bed for better purchase. This new angle combined with the gravelly grunts so close to your ear become your undoing and you hurtle full-force into another mind-numbing orgasm with Ghost following close behind.

“Come f'r me, pet.” Again, not a suggestion but a command and who are you to refuse him? So you do as he says, pussy fluttering from the aftershocks as he fucks you through it, thumb circling your clit before he fills you up, not allowing you to move an inch, keeping your hips propped up and when he pulls out which drags another set of whimpers from you he meticulously pushes his spend back with thick, calloused fingers. “Gotta make sure it takes.”

If your consciousness weren't slipping away, you'd likely be alarmed, but instead, your eyes begin to close again, and this time, sleep claims you.

You wake to a heavy weight pressing down on your back, and it takes a moment for your mind to catch up with the events of yesterday. When it does, your entire body flushes and you attempt to move out of bed, only to find it futile. You're pinned beneath strong arms marked with scars—some from arrows, large and small, and others older, circular, and still appearing raw.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted as a thick, muscular thigh presses deeper between your legs, forcing them apart. Without much thought, you begin to grind against it, a primal urge stirring within you. Despite the lingering soreness from yesterday, a fresh wave of need starts to build, and any trace of resistance fades in the face of overwhelming pleasure. It feels shameful, but you can't stop the tentative movements, slowly finding a rhythm—until the sudden flex of his thigh makes you gasp, your eyes rolling back.

“So needy,” he growls close to your ear but there's no trace of anger in his voice, if anything he sounds pleased. “Come on, ride it harder.” He punctuates the sentence with yet another flex of his thigh and a nip to your neck, making you shudder but follow through with his command. As you grind back against his thigh you take a note of his cock stirring, resting heavy and hard between your bare ass. You push against it absentmindedly and find yourself pinned under him, your legs still held apart with his thigh that's now embarrassingly slick with your arousal. The visual of it makes you turn your head away, eyes closed and whimpering. Ghost doesn't like that. His massive paw of a hand grabs at your cheeks, your lips puckering involuntarily while he grunts at you to keep those eyes open for him. As he licks into your mouth, it suddenly dawns on you—this is your first kiss. You had already let this beast inside you before even sharing a kiss, and everything felt so out of order, that it made you want to scream and cry. Instead, you settle on throwing your hands around him and clawing at his back as he aligns himself with your needy, sore pussy and thrusts to the hilt without so much as a warning.

Even after yesterday, the burn of the stretch to accommodate his length makes fresh tears spring up into your eyes and roll down the apples of your cheeks. You swear you see his scarred lips twitch up into a savage smile at the sight of them before he licks them clean off your cheeks with a satisfied groan. In retaliation you dig your nails deeper into his sturdy back, hoping to break the skin and leave a mark that only ends up urging him to fuck you harder, faster. The sounds reverberating in the room drive you crazy; over them, you don't even notice a soft knock at the door but whoever it was scurries away registering the sound of the moans he wrings out of you with one particularly hard thrust that pushes so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Effortlessly he manhandles your legs on his shoulders to hit a different angle. As you struggle with the overwhelming feeling of fullness he leaves a deceptively soft kiss on your ankle before he folds you in half again and wrestles another mind-shattering orgasm out of you and succumbing to one himself, painting your insides with his spent. Pulling out, he doesn't bother moving, he simply rests his head on your chest between your breasts, squeezing the air out of your lungs with the sheer size of him. “Rest now, pet. Plenty of time for more o' that later.”

At that moment, you know there is no turning back; you've been taken, branded from the inside out. You wonder if this is truly so horrible, perhaps this nightmare of a man will drive away all the other nightmares plaguing your mind.

Or perhaps he is even more dreadful than your imagination could have ever conjured.

taglist: @a66-1 , @ghostlythots , @rttxcmt , @september-22-1998 , @fluffysmiko , @gyusbrownie , @bumblebeesfromvenus , @magicalforestcat , @nommingonfood , @tami-doodles , @fateisnotafactor , @m-a-l-a-c-z-a-r-n-a , @nicolebarnes , @msdevil333 , @lilpothoscuttings , @tealeaftallulah , @not-reptilian , @moonfloweronmars , @aliceinwonderland-5678 , @marshmelloe , @i-love-you-just-the-same, @lazyperfectioniste , @tragedyinwaves , @thisisforthebest97 , @talkingcorn , @hxnneydew , @resplendantrosewood , @telvannitea , @the-casual-act , @hello-lemons, @kiwicopia , @just-a-sewer-goblin

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #x reader insert #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #bunnie writes #tw noncon #tw dubcon #simon riley x reader #cod smut

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softbabybelle · 2 months ago

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CORRUPTION𓍯𓂃 r ֶָ֢cameron 003.

rafe cameron x shy!reader

𝜗𝜚 summary : rafe has been trying to get you alone for far too long and now that he finally has, he won't give the moment up for anything.

𝜗𝜚 words : 2.3k

𝜗𝜚 c!w : smut, humping, thigh riding, public!sex, finger sucking, risk of being caught, praise kink, kinda degradation kink.

part 1, part 2.

days had passed since the incident with rafe cameron and the boy who's name you didn't wish to remember.

this time, you hadn't gone out of your way to avoid the boy but instead went back to normal, almost as if nothing had happened between you two at all. you sat on the couch of tannyhill, giggling at something on sarah's phone with your legs crossed.

now, that simply wouldn't do.

rafe had been eager for a minute alone with you which seemed almost impossible when his sister was hanging off your side every minute you spent at tannyhill.

he was sitting on the living room couch, the one across from you both, scrolling on his own phone, a finger to his mouth as he gnawed at the completely bitten down nail.

his eyes kept travelling over to you, skimpy little summers dress clinging to your form while the skirt part began to ride up your thighs as you moved against the couch.

dirty thoughts swarmed his head, thoughts that shouldn't be repeated out loud. thoughts that shouldn't have been in his head to begin with.

he thought he was sure to be damned to hell for the things he was thinking.

and then, ironically enough, the gods seemed to smile down on him. it was as if all of his prayers had been answered and every beg and grovel had finally been listened to by an angel.

the angel who's name was wheezie, standing in the living room door frame. "sarah." wheezies hair was a mess, thrown into a bun with loose strands of hair sticking out every which way, she looked tired, so awfully tired and dreadful as she stared forward at her sister who's head instantly snapped up. "please help me. i'm trying clean out my wardrobe but it's too much."

a laugh fell from sarah's mouth. "no way. it's your mess, clean it yourself."

but that was when wheezie's arms crossed over her chest, cocking a brow. "I'm sorry, who covered for you and topper last night?"

"wheezie!" sarah exasperated, glancing out into the hallway. ward and rose were upstairs but sarah still didn't wish for them to hear about the late night activities she'd been getting up to with her boyfriend.

defeated, she turned her head back to you, who was sitting so sweetly on the couch, that same sickly sweet smile crawling up on your features. you liked watching the cameron siblings interact, even if it wasn't always so pleasant, there was something oddly homely about it. "'s okay, sarah, 'm fine down here."

"okay." she sighed, getting up from the couch. "okay, you just―just hang out for a while and i'll be down soon, okay?" she watched you nod. "okay, come on, let's get this over with."

and suddenly, tension ran thick through the air.

it was you and rafe, alone.

his legs were spread apart on the armchair he was seated on, eyes running up and down your body. you seemed to notice your dress riding up and instantly tugged it down with pink cheeks. you swallowed thickly. "I, uhm―i wanted to say thank you." your eyes finally looked up to reach his.

the minute he heard your voice, his phone was turned off and tossed away. his head cocked to the side. "what for?" teasing. for he knew exactly what for.

you squirmed in your place. "for everything you did with max."

"didn't seem too grateful when you ran away, hm?" he didn't mean the bitter words that slipped from his lips. he watched the way you hung your head low, eyes glassing over. instantly, a kind of guilt washed over him and he leaned back further into the chair. "c'mere." and he patted his thigh, watching your eyes flicker down. you glanced out to the hallway and he had to roll his eyes. "'s okay, nobody'll see you. they're all too busy."

you did as you were told, crossing the room and landing in his lap.

there was something so sensational about being in his lap again.

memories flooded your head, pictures and images of you and he, in this same predicament inside his bedroom, his lips tainting yours. you couldn't help but latch your eyes onto his lips.

"you wanna tell me why you keep runnin' away, hm?" you don't answer, eyes searching anywhere but his face. he doesn't allow it, turning you slowly towards him once again. "asked you a question, sweetheart."

you fought words inside your mouth, all threatening to come tumbling out. "was scared." is all he's met with.

"scared of what?" his head dips, his eyes trying to reach yours, trying to look in and gauge your emotions. "scared of me?"

you shook your head, fingers reaching out to trail across the fabric of his sweater. "i... liked it when you kissed me." you admitted and he watched as a blush fell across your face, red reaching the tips of your ears. "i liked it a lot but 'was scared that sarah would find out 'n i don't―"

"sarah doesn't need to know anything." he answers quickly. "besides, who you kiss..." his fingers trailed across your bottom lip, sucking in his own bottom one between his teeth as he gazed down at them, sweet like honey. "is none of her business, yeah?"

you nodded too quickly, too eagerly, too convinced by his words too quickly. "'m sorry, rafe, 'm really sorry."

"think i know how you can make it up t'me." his fingers left your lips and placed themselves against your hips. "you wanna make it up to me?"

"yes, please." came out too swiftly.

he couldn't help but smirk at your eagerness. "'m gonna kiss you again, okay?" and suddenly, you could feel heat pooling in the bottom of your stomach. he leaned in, his breaths falling hot against your face, his scent filling your senses. and just as his lips brushed against your own, he whispered. "you gotta promise me something first, 'kay?"

you licked your wet lips. "anything." wanting nothing more than for rafe to lean in and seal the kiss. you'd do anything he ever asked.

"no runnin' away this time." his fingers pinched at your jaw, holding it so your eyes could reach his. "you want this? you take it 'n you don't go pushin' me away again, alright?" a curt nod. "words, princess."

"promise." you spoke quickly. "promise, rafe, please."

his lips quirked.

but he didn't keep you waiting.

when his lips crashed into yours, you were very aware of the fact that you were sitting on the couch of tannyhill, the living room door wide open. all it took was for ward or sarah to come down the stairs and they'd see what you'd been up to.

they'd see that you weren't such a good girl after all.

but you couldn't seem to care.

you were too focused on his hot hot lips, tongue slipping into your mouth as he deepened the kiss, hands pinching at your waist, holding you in place.

your mind began to unravel, all you could think about was him. rafe cameron. you were sitting on his lap, kissing him, again. and you swore it was a feeling unlike any feeling you'd ever felt in your entire life. it was making you so desperate, so messy, so wet.

and you were sure he could feel it too. he tugged on your waist, rolling your hips against him.

you let a whimper be swallowed by his mouth.

his lips finally broke from yours for air but he didn't allow himself enough to fully regain his breath before they were latched beneath your jaw, sucking and kissing harshly.

again, he rolled your hips. you weren't sure if it was him moving you or you doing it by yourself now. you could feel him growing hard beneath you, you could feel him pressing himself up against your clothed pussy and all you could think about was how much you needed everything off.

you needed to feel him, skin to skin.

it seemed so close yet stretched so far away.

his hands ran up the skin of your thighs, pushing the fabric of your dress up as he went. "r-rafe." you whimpered out, head turning to the door. "someone could see―"

"'s what you asked for, isn't it?" his hands were rough against you, tugging the dress upwards, not caring for the family who remained upstairs. "isn't it?"

you swallowed thickly. "yes." you stammered out. "b-but―"

"you still wanna make it up to me, don't you?" his brows knitted together in this false sense of sadness, as if you'd done something awful to the poor man. you'd felt suddenly guilty for even suggesting that you stop.

you felt yourself ease against him, your own brows pinching together. "'m sorry, rafe, swear 'm sorry. i'll do anything, jus' please don't be angry―"

"'m not angry." he assures you, fingers brushing up and down your thighs, inching too high. "jus' need you to do something f'me, can you do that, sweetheart?" you were nodding like a puppy, eager to do anything he would ask of you. he maneuvered you so you were situated on one of his spread thighs and not his lap anymore. "y'gonna rub yourself on my thigh like the pathetic good girl you are, okay?"

you'd never done anything like this before.

suddenly you began to panic. "rafe, someone'll hear 'n―"

"nobody'll hear you, baby, jus' gotta be nice 'n quiet, yeah?" you still looked hesitant, top teeth clamping down on your bottom lip. "would make me feel so good, princess 'n you jus' wanna make me feel good, isn't that right? yeah, baby, jus' wanna make rafe feel good, you're such a good girl, aren't you?"

and you don't know how, why, or when but suddenly, you're doing just what he told you.

your hips are stuttering as they move against his jeans, you can feel your panties growing wetter and wetter with every jolt of movement.

rafe doesn't appear to be doing much, hands skillfully moving your hips while he leans back against the armchair.

"there you go, good girl." his cock twitched in his jeans, watching your hesitant, shy face as you moved oh so slowly on his jeans. "lift your hips f'me, sweetheart." you did as you were told, pausing to lift yourself up from his thigh. his hand moved beneath you, tugging your panties to the side and rubbing gentle circles against your clit.

"oh." fell so sweetly from your lips that to anybody else, it would have appeared almost innocent. but rafe was well aware of how dirty you really were.

he landed you back on his thigh, letting you rub yourself against him, this time, it was your bare pussy that ran up and down his jean-clad thigh.

he groaned at the sight of you, free hand coming down to fix his situation that was suddenly growing in his pants. he pulled at the jeans slightly, trying to make his growing bulge less noticeable but there was simply too much to hide.

your eyes cast down to his hand, then to the bulge and you found a little whimper leaving your mouth.

his eyes studied your face, watching you lick your already wet lips and rubbing yourself against him a little quicker. sweet, poor, innocent, you was so turned on by his growing dick. and he could feel it by the dampness of his jeans turning wet hot

you really were filthy.

a particularly loud whine left your lips and rafe realised that perhaps it wasn't a smart idea to start this whole thing off while his whole family was home.

but he couldn't stop now. that'd be cruel. especially seeing how worked up he'd gotten you.

he trailed his fingers up to your lips and tapped on your chin.

you didn't even need to be told, you simply opened up. he stuck his digits right in, feeling your flat tongue against them and spit coating them.

"so filthy, baby." he uttered so softly, as if he were complimenting you. "what'll we do with you, huh?" you only whimpered around his fingers. "'s okay, sweetheart, gonna get that pussy stuffed jus' like you want. just gotta be patient, yeah? can you do that f'me?"

and you're sloppy against his thigh, sloppy against his fingers. you can feel juices rubbing against his jeans and dribble forming at the gaps between your lips and all you can do is not so dumbly.

a stutter of your hips.

a grin on his lips.

"you gonna cum, already, huh?" it didn't take long, but you were already approaching your orgasm. he wished now more than ever that he could take pictures with his mind. that he could frame this moment and pull it out every time his dick got hard. he slipped his fingers out from your mouth. "gotta ask like a good girl before you cum."

your hands pawed at his shoulders. "please, rafe." your mind was turned to mush. "please, please, please."

he shrugged so cruelly. "'m hearin' a lot of beggin' but i don't hear you asking me yet."

"p-please, can i cum?" your face was red hot, embarrassment flooding your features quickly. "please?"

he smirked, leaning back against the armchair and removing his hands from your waist. you were a big girl, you could finish yourself off. "go on, princess."

he watched as your hands pawed at him, hips stuttering and eyes rolling backwards, mouth falling open. it was such a pronographic, filthy scene. and yet, he knew by tomorrow, you'd be prancing around in the same little dress and everyone would see you as the same lovely good little girl that you pretended to be.

and rafe thought that was enough to make him cum in his own pants.

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forlix · 10 months ago

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𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞・b.c.

— incurable playboy turned doting boyfriend was a character development arc nobody saw coming for christopher bang, including (especially) his frat brothers.

words・2.8k pairing・frat president!chris x gn!reader genres・fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, college!au, fuckboy!chris, boys being boys, kissing, implied sex so mdni warnings・substance use, talk of past heartbreak

a/n・here is "nobody believes you're dating" w/chan, requested by none other than my @rachalixie for my 2k event !! anny, i hope u love this fic as much as i love u; thank you for allowing me to write something so self-indulgent <3

In the deafening throes of one of Phi Mu Alpha’s spring kickbacks, Minho finds Jeongin and Seungmin standing in motionless silence by the kitchen counter. Both boys are gaping at something with an intensity that dips egregiously into the realm of creepy. He moves to pour himself a shot.

“What the fuck are you people looking at?”

Seungmin prods a pointer finger in the relevant direction. It takes a few seconds of scanning the scene for Minho to find what he’s referring to. He digs a knuckle into his eye, instantly confused by what he’s seeing. Maybe the gaping is justified.

The windows and doors have all been thrown open to invite the balmy April weather into the foyer of the frathouse. There’s a large crowd of people huddled around a long, foldable table stationed before the stairs; Jaehyun clutches a ping-pong ball between his fingers, singular eye squinted shut as he takes aim. The number of remaining solo cups dwindles rapidly, as does the players’ sobriety.

Something—someone—is missing.

Not to say “beer pong virtuoso” was one of the reasons Chris was elected frat president, but you’d think the guy had a career path in basketball with how he’s given the entire Greek life community alcohol poisoning by courtesy of two or three plastic balls alone. Minho has never known him to miss a shot, let alone miss out on a game.

Today, however, the reigning champion is only spectating, seated above the ongoing match on one of the steps of the main staircase.

A beautiful stranger is sitting beside him, cheek pressed to his shoulder as you peer at the match through the bannister.

You say something inaudible. The laugh it earns from Chris is bright enough to pick up from a few streets down. He leans in to murmur something in return, and you slide your hand over his nape to pull his mouth onto yours, light blush crawling up and over your ears. The way Chris melts into you can only be described as familiar, his eyes slowly fluttering shut, finger hooking delicately beneath your chin, grin going lopsided as your lips part—

“That’s enough,” Minho hisses, tearing his eyes away with considerable effort. “Aren’t you ashamed? Just fucking ogling.”

Jeongin shakes his head, grinning. “It’s dinner and a show. We’d be idiots not to.”

By dinner, he must mean the gallon of chocolate milk he’s been drinking from for the last hour. He now holds out said gallon with the intent to cheers. Seungmin picks up the entire handle and does the same.

Minho sighs, clinks his glass against theirs, and they throw back their respective refreshments in unison.

“Anywho.” Jeongin swipes the back of his hand over his mouth before going on. “You guys know who that is?”

Minho resurfaces with a wince, relishing in the bitter aftermath, then motions for Seungmin to give the bottle back straightaway. He arrived to the function late and he’s not nearly as drunk as he’d like to be.

Seungmin obliges Minho only after another heady swig. “No clue. Probably just another fling, no?”

“Mmm,” Jeongin hums in assent. “It’s Chris we’re talking about, after all.”

"Agreed. Case closed.”

There’s an air of finality in Seungmin’s voice—but Minho isn’t so sure.

Perhaps because he has never noticed that Chris had dimples until now; or because you fold so naturally into Chris' side after your kiss ends, head nuzzling against the crook of his neck and hand seeking out his to hold in your lap; or, most likely, because Chris' eyes seem to return to you when he looks at you, as if his gaze drifting anywhere else is but a momentary departure from where it really belongs. As if he comes home every time you come into his line of vision.

Whatever the reason, the idea coalesces in Minho’s mind, even as inebriation begins to fall over his cognitive faculties like a curtain, that the boys have got it wrong.

Jeongin utters his name, jolting him out of his trance. There’s another shot lifted halfway to Minho’s lips that hasn’t budged in minutes. “Whatcha thinking about?”

Minho looks at Jeongin first, Seungmin next, then back at Chris and his stunning companion. He’s not inclined to answer the question in full, but he can in truth. A coy smile crosses his face.

“Threesome?”

Jeongin laughs hard enough to collapse onto the kitchen island. Seungmin drags a hand down his face. “Come on, man.”

In the corner of his eye, you’ve gone back to kissing again, slow and sweet and secretive. Chris' gentle hold on your jaw shields you from view but fails to hide his lovesick smile. Dimly, Minho thinks that maybe his friend has met his match.

Then, he takes four shots in rapid succession—and stops thinking altogether.

Christopher Bang’s love life is like a horror movie and romcom spliced together: a fiasco of a film to which his housemates have front row seats.

The frat’s upperclassmen live in sets of four-bed, two-bath suites comprising a small common space with a kitchen and a sitting area, sandwiched by bedrooms on either side. It is in that common space that Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jisung often see or hear Chris stumbling home after a night out, entangled with a different attractive stranger every time—so often, in fact, that they’ve come to believe that he’s deathly allergic to anything bigger than a one-and-done hookup.

They can’t judge. In part because they’d be throwing stones from glass houses, but also because the man’s penchant for empty physicality is far from unfounded. His past self gave pieces of his heart to the wrong people, contracted first-degree burns from the guileless warmth he sought out. Now, his version of “intimacy” is less a connotation of closeness than it is a self-contradiction, for it should be impossible for so much distance to remain between two people in a single bed.

Chris hasn’t vocalized any of this. Nor have his housemates discussed it with each other. The knowledge simply exists in the air between the four of them like something akin to taboo, dipping in and out of acknowledgement depending on the circumstance.

This might be the circumstance of all time.

At around 11:40 A.M. on a Saturday, three doors in the suite open at once. Hyunjin and Changbin aren’t coincidence—the latter is coercing the former to go to the gym again—but they lift their eyes to the opposite side of the living room, and the slice of milk bread dangling from Hyunjin’s lips very nearly takes a fatal fall. Changbin manages to snatch it up with an extended hand.

Chris has just emerged from his room as well. Your silhouette follows close behind, your mouth stretching into a yawn as you massage the sleep from your eyes. You’re sporting a mesh green sweater identical to one Chris owns. They find Chris' accessories more interesting than his clothes, though: two hickeys peeking out from beneath his jaw and the base of his neck.

Chris sees Hyunjin and Changbin right away, and his expression goes utterly blank, not unlike their faces as they watch you close his door meticulously. You turn around and gasp.

The four of you stare at each other for what feels like multiple business days. At least, Hyunjin, Changbin, and Chris stare at each other; your eyes dart between the men on the other side of the room and the man next to you, silently pleading for him to say something. He does not for a long while.

Then, he lunges for one of the throw pillows on the couch and flings it at Hyunjin like a shot put. It ricochets off his chest and lands on the floor rather anticlimactically.

“Distraction!” Chris yells anyways, grabbing your hand and tearing towards the exit, wild grin on his face. “Go, go, go!”

Your raucous laughter lingers even after you’ve been hauled away, accompanied by an unintelligible, breathless shout of something along the lines of my toothbrush—and then the front door clicks shut, and there are two.

Changbin and Hyunjin lock eyes, struggling to process what just happened. Hyunjin is the first to move, wandering hesitantly into the bathroom that Chris and Jisung share. Nothing about the place looks out of the ordinary.

“Well, shit,” Hyunjin says out loud.

That is, aside from the two toothbrushes slotted in the holder on Chris' side of the counter.

Something moves in the bathroom window, catching his attention. Hyunjin looks over just in time to spot you and Chris dart out onto the lawn two floors below. Chris has his arm draped over your shoulders, yours wrapped around his waist. Your smile is discernible all the way from here, and Hyunjin sees a perfect mirror of it on his friend’s face when Chris glances at the frathouse over his shoulder.

Has he always had dimples?

Moments later, Changbin joins him in peering out the window. A high-pitched cackle erupts from the older boy’s lips. “Look at that idiot.”

Standing off to the left is a tiny, astonished Han Jisung, his arms full of groceries, jaw sitting squarely the grass and whites of his eyes on full display as he watches you and Chris stroll away.

Hyunjin laughs with his whole fucking body. Changbin whips out his phone and takes a picture.

When you finally breach the topic, it’s because you don’t think you can physically study for another minute—but also because, after multiple long months of fruitless sparring, your curiosity finally wins.

Your boyfriend is seated in your desk chair, feet kicked up onto your mattress with his laptop propped up on his thighs. His features have rearranged themselves into an expression of intense focus as he pores over his production homework. You can hear music blaring through his headphones from all the way here.

You uncross your legs from below you, scootch across your bed, and lift your hands to cradle his cheeks. He startles as if coming out of a trance, then begins to smile when he reads the words hi, Channie off your lips.

His headphones fall around his neck. He sets his laptop down onto your desk with a dull thunk. The next thing to drop is you when Chris seizes you by the waist and tackles you into the mattress. The somber atmosphere of your study session is shattered by your muted laughter and Chris pressing his lips to every inch of your exposed skin he can. He saves your mouth for last.

“Hey, beautiful,” he answers, but only after kissing the living daylights out of you, the syllables soft and silky with adoration. “Missed me?”

You drag your eyes from his brown irises with blown pupils to his sloping nose, from his disheveled dark locks to his cordate lips, so plush and warm against your own that you swear you still feel them there. You brush a hand over the back of his neck, your head now spinning so badly that you barely remember what you wanted to ask him.

“Always,” you say. “I was starting to feel jealous of your homework.”

He chuckles. “Shit, I’ll drop out of college right now, baby. Just say the word.”

“You’re perfect,” you hum.

“Says you,” he murmurs, nudging the tip of his nose against yours.

Your lips find each other’s again—needless to say, your study sessions aren’t known for their productivity. Some time passes before you come up for air. Even afterwards, Chris doesn’t let you go far, pulling you into his chest by the curve of your waist, nuzzling his cheek into your hairline. You only need to whisper for him to hear your question.

“Can I ask you something?”

“'Course,” he returns, and you’re close enough to sense him tighten with apprehension. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, don’t worry.” You print a kiss to the side of his neck for extra reassurance. “It’s just…I’ve been meaning to ask how your friends feel about me.”

He tightens with something else now: surprise, you’re guessing; you’re hoping. You hadn’t seriously considered that the answer could be negative, but it’s dawning on you now that the possibility of that isn’t zero.

“Where’s this coming from?” Chris inquires, his tone opaque.

You hesitate, mentally reviewing your interactions with your boyfriend’s social circle. Hyunjin and Jisung can’t make eye contact with you when they speak to you. Minho does nothing but make eye contact with you whether he’s speaking to you or not. Jeongin and Seungmin can maintain small talk for about ten seconds before they start looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. Changbin is the only one you’ve held a conversation with, and only because you were going up the same stairs at the same time and the alternative would have been mind-numbing silence.

What is the best way for you to say this?

“Well,” you begin, “I can’t help but notice that they act a little—when I’m around, they’re a bit, uh—”

“—crazy,” Chris offers. “Completely fucking bat-shit crazy.”

“Yes. Exactly that.”

Chris threads a hand through your hair, the comforting gesture doing nothing to assuage your worry. It seems there’s some truth behind your impressions. Your next words are tinged with a quiet sadness.

“I’m not imagining things, then?”

“No, angel,” he sighs. “But not for the reasons you think.”

A beat passes. Chris perceives your silence as a chance to backtrack, to opt out of this conversation if it’s one he’s not ready for. He would’ve leapt at the opportunity once.

But he realizes in that moment, with your voice gentle against his ears and your touch so doting upon his skin, how much has changed since he met you: from the color of the sky to the word home and everything in between, including his cynicism towards love and all the iterations of forever it holds.

With that epiphany comes another, then another: he wants you to know why his friends are acting insane, wants you to know about him and his past and all the wounds of his you never know you healed, wants you to spend the rest of this forever with him.

His pointer finger dusts beneath your chin, a wordless request for you to look at him, and he nearly liquifies when you do and he finds entire constellations in your eyes.

“It’s a lot,” he mumbles, though he suspects you know that already; he suspects you know about the other stuff, too.

You bring your hand to the side of his face, bring your forehead to rest upon his. Your closeness washes over him like a low summer tide lapping over sandy shores, a soothing balm spreading over scorched flesh.

“It’s you,” you breathe. “I will love it just the same.”

Chris' held breath comes out in shudders.

So this is warmth.

Minho and Felix are watching anime on the couch when a knock comes at their door, unfortunately during a pivotal moment of a pivotal episode.

Minho hits pause with a ghastly groan. Felix laughs and rises to his feet, dashing into his room to grab the two silver necklaces he’ll be loaning out for the evening. “Coming!”

Outside, Chris is standing alone, hips and thighs accentuated by a pair of tight-fitting dress pants, sculpted chest and collarbones framed by a thin, cream-colored shirt with the top three buttons undone. Most of his hair has been pushed off his forehead, leaving a few locks free to fall over his right eyebrow. He’s rolling up his sleeves when Felix opens the door, veined forearms flexing as a result of the effort.

“Well?” He asks. Minho cranes his neck to look past Felix.

Both boys start to holler and whistle like excited macaques.

“What in the Calvin Klein is this?” Felix shouts, spinning Chris around by the shoulders. “You look insane, bro. Holy fuck.”

“What’s the occasion, young man?” Minho inadvertently sounds like a gruff uncle. “Where are you going dressed like that, huh?”

Chris' laugh comes easier nowadays. What’s more, it comes in a way that reaches the rest of him, that ends in a tiny, high squeak that you really have to look for in order to hear.

Felix and Minho can't help but replicate his smile. Those clothes look good on him, yes—but happiness looks better.

“You guys are silly,” Chris giggles. Dimples indent his cheeks as he accepts the necklaces from Felix. “Thanks, man. I’ll give ‘em back tomorrow.”

“No rush,” Felix replies, grinning. “Have fun, yeah?”

“We will.” Chris starts to retreat down the hallway, hands moving to clasp the jewelry around his neck, but not before he blows the both of them a kiss.

“Be back before ten!” Minho hollers; Chris laughs again, turns a corner, and disappears.

Felix closes the door. His smile falters fast. Minho has brought his face mere centimeters away, his expression thoroughly humorless.

“Tell me only the truth, Lee Yongbok,” he deadpans.

“O-okay—”

“Is Chris in a relationship?”

“—oh.” Felix frowns. “Well, yeah.”

Minho blanches. “How—how long?”

“One year, give or take? Anniversary’s today.”

Minho is stunned. Felix is stunned that Minho is stunned.

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lyrefromthesea · 8 months ago

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Can I request something? I think it would be pretty cute to have a slow morning with the hashira, like not having any missions to go to, so you just stay in bed and cuddle and talk about things. Pls make it fluff or even angst of you’d like! Have a great day/night and remember to rest, eat and drink!

Male pillars x reader - morning hours

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: none

Tengen:

"and what are you doing, beautiful?" Tengen asked, stepping through the doorway to enter the kitchen.

his eyes were locked on your figure, watching you prepare the breakfast for five people. the table had already been prepared, plates and glasses put on their rightful place.

"i woke up earlier and decided to prepare breakfast. are the others awake already?" you asked, turning around to face him. he stopped walking towards you, putting a hand under his chin - pretending to ponder over your question.

"Hinatsuru hasn't moved at all since yesterday. Makio is sprawled out over the bed, she stole the blanket from the other two. and Suma was clinging to my waist, I had to prick each finger off individually.

you looked at him for a moment, the corners of your lips tugging into a smile. you couldn't hold it in anymore, letting out a laugh, trying to keep it quiet as not to wake the others.

"you could've just said they were still sleeping!" you told him, watching him smirk down at you.

"i wanted to make ya laugh, beautiful." he answered, finally stepping towards you. he cupped your cheek with his hand, leaning down to press a kiss against your other one.

"now let me help make breakfast. maybe we could go visit the hot spring later, would ya like that?"

Obanai:

his first thought when he woke up always surrounded your being - your smile, your voice, your eyes, your prior conversations.

he wished to put his mind at ease, forget the worries of his life and only think of the times he could spend with you. however, the past had marked him, forced him to be attentive, always.

he looked to the side, wanting to grab his mask and make sure everything was fine. but he stopped feeling your chin rest on his chest.

"Obanai?" you mumbled, looking at the man next to you. his hand halted, not able to grab his mask when your eyes were looking at him like that.

"i just want to make sure everything is fine." he whispers, trying to soothe your mind. he felt like he needed to ensure your safety, but he wanted to gift you comfort as well.

"don't you want to stay here instead?" you asked, pressing your cheek against his cheek. you knew he was weak to the look you gave him, if it meant you would get to lay next to him for a few more moments, you would use that to your advantage.

"everything is fine, don't worry about it.." you told him, scooting closer to his face. he closed his mismatched eyes, trying to dive into the soft kiss you pressed against his lips.

he slowly opened his eyes after you've pulled away and nuzzled against his neck. he yearned for your touch, your warmth. it was more important than air to him.

"you're right.. let's just stay in bed for a while longer.."

Rengoku:

"good morning, love." Rengoku said, stepping out of the estate. you turned around to face him, not moving away from your place on the engawa.

he settled down next to you, a blanket an two cups in hand. you soon found yourself wrapped into the blanket, a cup of your favourite warm drink in hand.

Rengoku sat right next to you, his own cup in hand, the blanket loosely thrown over his own shoulders.

"i know you love watching the sunrise, but you'll grow sick if you sit here when it's so cold." Rengoku told you, using his right arm to wrap it around your side, pulling you against him gently.

"you don't need to worry about it, Kyo. i only wanted to stay for a moment." you answered, not expecting Rengoku to look at you with a knowing smile.

"i thought you had promised to wake me next time." he answered, seeing your cheeks flush lightly, you felt caught. you hadn't forgotten, he just slept through your tries.

"i tried, but you sleep like a bear..!" you countered, watching him laugh at your words. he gave you a big, loving smile, pressing a kiss against your temple.

"maybe we should work on that, but let's enjoy the sunrise first."

Sanemi:

your head rested on his bare chest, it had become a habit at this point. he didn't like sleeping with a shirt in, giving you the perfect opportunity to sleep against the warmth of his skin.

both of you had been awake for a while now, his hand on your head. he lazily brushed his fingers through you hair, knowing you liked the goosebumps it created.

sometimes you wondered if this was really the epitome of his happiness, if he didn't want anything more in life.

"can I ask you something?" you quietly said, not hearing an answer from him, but feeling his hand stop. he rested it on the back of your neck, showing you that he was listening.

"are you happy like this..?" you asked, hearing him let out a quiet grumble. he finally snaked his arm around your body, pulling you closer against him - if that was even possible.

"what kind of stupid question is that? of course i'm happy when you're here, idiot." he answered, closing his eyes while he spoke.

you would never know, but he cherished the early morning hours with you, when there were no demons to slay and he could concentrate on you.

"i love you." he added, feeling like you needed some sort of confirmation. you chuckled upon hearing him, snuggling a bit closer to him. unbeknownst to you, your actions made a smile tug at his own lips.

Giyuu:

the first thing you noticed was the chirping of small birds outside your window. then the beams of sunshine falling onto your face.

but most importantly, you felt your lover's eyes on you, his arms wrapped around your form, gently pressed against his body.

"good morning, love.." he muttered, feeling you stir awake. he brought a hand up to cup your face, gently stroking his thumb over your cheek.

"morning.." you yawned out quietly, bringing your hands up to rub over your eyes. you opened them to look up at him, a soft smile forming on your face.

"are you hungry? i could make us breakfast." you asked, already thinking of getting up, but Giyuu certainly didn't approve of that.

his arm wrapped around your torso, pulling you back down and burying his head into your hair, sighing when he took in the aroma of your shampoo.

"stay.. i want to hold you." he quietly spoke, his voice muffled by the curtain of your hair. you chuckled upon hearing him, nuzzling back into the bed - but most importantly against him.

"five more minutes won't hurt."

Gyomei:

"wake up, honey." Gyomei quietly said, his big hand resting on your arm, gently shaking you awake. he stopped when he heard you yawn, sitting up slowly.

"morning.." you mumbled, letting yourself plop against the sitting man, a small smile appearing on your face when you heard him laugh.

"you're so tired, are you sure you're ready to stand up yet?" he asked, his smile widening when he felt you move more enthusiastically, your hands finding his.

"of course i am! i want to make the most out of your free day." you answered, fingers interlocking with his.

the contrast made him happy, he could probably crush your hands with his, but you trusted him nonetheless.

"what would you think of some breakfast? we could make it together." he responded, the happy gasp that left you already revealing your answer.

"let's get to it." you told him, letting go of his hands to kiss him on the cheek and crawl out of the bed.

how could he not follow you when you were this happy to spend time with him?

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amara-moonlight · 1 year ago

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If your writer for tog and write for rowan lmk bc i need more rowan i desperately need more fic of him to exist like i love this bitch but there’s not enough fic written about him 😭😭

#rowan whitethorn x reader #rowan x reader #thrown of glass #dorian havilliard x reader #rowan whitethorn #azriel x reader #rhysand x reader #acotar fluff #thrown of glass fluff #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra fluff #thrown of glass x reader #rowan x reader smut #rowan x aelin

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yanderenightmare · 9 months ago

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TW: nsfw, noncon, yandere, kidnapping, bondage

gn reader

Thinking about ex-military Yandere and how he doesn’t bat an eye over any of the things he does to you because it all pales in comparison to what he’s seen and done across the border. Ex-military Yandere, who’s only a bit older than you but seems a whole lifetime mature. Ex-military Yandere, who moves like clockwork, with veteran skill—like a rustless steel tool who knows exactly how to get the job done without any fuss.

He sneaks into your home in the dead of night, triggering no alarms, and has you zip-tied and duct-taped like a hostage before you can even make a sound, then thrown in the backseat like he’s driving you out into the desert to put a bullet in your head.

You’re convinced he’s a paid bounty hunter of some sort and that you’ve been taken for ransom by god-only-knows who—but that theory dissipates over time—you wish that had been all it was.

He keeps you in the basement, in some type of doomsday prep bomb shelter. The knives and guns mounted behind a thick sheen of glass under a dozen locks and keys tell you enough about how not to mess with him. Still, you put up a meager fight when you realize what he means to do to you.

A steel bed is what he takes you on. The mattress is thin, and the cold metal bites clean through it. And still, his touch seems tougher, holding you like he’s never held anything soft before—with a vicious grip like he’s catching prey bare-handed.

You’re tied tighter than need be—every limb immobilized—wrists bound behind your back, and your legs in a crossed knot that’s fixed to your throat like a chain and collar, keeping your thighs folded against your chest.

Even if your mouth wasn’t gagged, you’d only be able to squeak with the way he pounds away at you like it’s the literal end of the world.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Enji, Aizawa ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Nanami, Geto, Toji, Higuruma ♡ HQ – Daichi, Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, Sakusa, Miya twins, Ushijima, Ukai ♡ AOT – Eren, Levi, Erwin, Zeke ♡ DS – Akaza, Inosuke, Sanemi, Genya ♡ HxH – Uvogin

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

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venuslarkspur · 27 days ago

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Who’s Gonna Marry The Pink Haired Girls?

—————————

Summary: Squid Game characters with Pink Haired!Fem!Reader <3

Characters: Thanos x Reader, Se-Mi x Reader, Kang Dae-Ho x Reader, Cho Hyun Ju x Reader, Hwang Jun-Ho x Reader.

Warning: typical squid game violence, problematic language, mentions of homophobia and transphobia, slutshaming (none of the characters to reader!), slight angst, drug usage (not the reader),

Thanos (Choi Su-bong)

- You immediately caught his attention, you two stand out the most amongst the other players for your vibrant choice of hair.

- The older players find you slightly intimidating because you don’t fit into their fragile default settings, he don’t gaf though.

- forces everyone else in his group to swear themselves off you.

- Approaches you during the rush to the carousel during mingle, “Oi Señorita!” He says whilst pushing his way through the crowd, he gives you a smug look before speaking again “Join me princess, I’ll protect you.” You visibly cringed at his words, but joined him anyway.

- He does keep his promise, he grabs you and takes you into the room with him. But you’re met with relentless pet names.

- “You good Wifey?” He’d ask while you’re frantically checking the slot hole to check if Se-Mi is okay after he abandoned her on the carousel.

- (YALL KNOW THIS AUDIO) He’s super high once and you check up on him he said “Woah..angels have pink hair..I had no idea.”

- Rambles on about all the places he’s gonna take you to when you get out of here, has to persuade you to vote “O” first; regardless of your choice he would still hit on you non stop.

- You eventually give in to yourself and flirt back, your heart racing a bit; having no idea what would become of you both a few hours later.

Se-Mi (very delulu on this one, SHE’S ALIVE)

I say as they drag me away to the mental asylum.

- You’re immediately drawn to one another because you both stand out amidst the crowd. Thanos initially flirts with both of you; and you bond over it making the same eye rolling motion every time he flirts with one of the two of you.

- You two bond instantly, which starts your trio with yourself, Min-su and her. Nam-gyu finds it nauseating, Thanos just feels left out but leaves you two to it.

- You know that trend on Tik Tok where it’s like “Our friend group with all girls and 1 boy” yeah that’s you two and Min-su.

- When you sneak off to the bathroom to get away from the boys, she follows you. Checks up on you and then nervously shoots her shot, she leans in and gives you a long kiss which you reciprocated, whilst you hold her face. She tells you to stick with her next game. The threat of death really causes people to come closer in such short time.

- When the number 4 is called in Mingle, you watch as Min-su betrays her; however you shove past him and you immediately grab her hand and start searching for a new group, ignoring Thanos calling out to you saying “Hey Señorita! get back here!”

- You run in front of her, hand in hand, frantically searching for a group. Time seems to slow down until you’re grabbed into a room by Players 388 and 390. All you can do is desperately hug and cling to each other whilst thanking the two others who grabbed you again and again.

- You both vote to leave after that, your former teammate Nam-gyu comes at her with a fork, you don’t hesitate to defend her, you’re able to grab a nearby piece of glass that Min-su had thrown and swiftly stab him from behind, guilt immediately consumes you when seeing how he sunk to the floor; but your newly girlfriend’s life was on the line! so you let him sink to his knees and bleed out, as he sweared unspeakable words at you both.

- You’re glued to her side as the rebellion starts, never wanting to let go; only hoping for the best.

Kang Dae-Ho (featuring wing-man Jung Bae)

- Takes notice of you but pretends he hasn’t. It’s not just your breathtaking hair, but your incredible confidence.

- You stick out from the crowd and all the old dickheads in the game make degenerate or gross assumptions about you because of your hair colour and style.

- But it’s your calm and neutral tone which catches him by surprise as player 100 made assumptions about you; which of course fell into the “slut” category, you however just replied with a nonchalant “you know nothing about me.” With the emphasis on ‘nothing’, you walked away from the old bastard, who couldn’t be more than wrong about you.

- But the old prick walks after you shouting at you to ‘look at him when he’s talking to you.’ Dae-Ho, who can sense your social battery dying as you stare back at the man with annoyance, steps between the two of you, before things got nasty. “Don’t speak to a lady that way.” He says and you grin in amusement, hiding the smirk on your face, enjoying this slightly but also somewhat worried for him. Your worry eases when player 001 steps between the two and defuses the situation, you look back to the strange man and mouth a ‘thank you’ to player 388.

- You noticed him and a friend of his struggling to find a 3rd player in Mingle, so you drag him and player 390 into a room with you last minute, he decides wants to thank you on the way down from the stairs, but he has to hide the fact he’s attracted to you as to not scare you. And the obvious fact that this is your first actual interaction.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Thanks back there..” he says whilst gesturing to player 390 behind him.

“It’s no trouble.” You smile back.

Silence dawns on you both, but you keep on walking.

“Uh.. so I’ve noticed you around-“

“I know.” You replied knowingly, your tone teasing and flirty.

- Jung Bae watches this interaction knowingly, whilst Dae-Ho slaps himself in the face as you prance away, ‘if you didn’t like me before, you definitely don’t now’ he thinks to himself.

- Wonders how he can be so dumb until he sees his chance to redeem himself when the circle guards start handing out dinner. He pulls you aside and tells you what player 456 told him, there might be riots in the night, and you should stick by him. You smirked out of pure entertainment.

- “You gonna keep me safe?” You teased. You giggled but saw the disappointment on his face. Is he crushing on you? “Sorry..,thank you handsome! I’ll be there.” You replied and walked back to your bunk.

- A riot does in fact break out, after you voted “X”, so you curl under one of the bunks with him when the screams start. You two (not so) unexpectedly joined hands tightly, for each others benefit and your own as well.

- A brutal series of death matches probably isn’t the best place to find yourself a boyfriend, but you can’t help but wanna kiss him good luck when he goes off with the rest of the group to rebel, so you do, smashing your lips against his before he leaves. Wishing he wouldn’t go.

Cho Hyun-Ju

- You team up with her and another girl when “6 players” is announced on the 2nd game, she sees you immediately, you’re a bit had to miss as your vibrant hair sticks out. You’re immensely drawn to her strong sense of leadership and ambition; just what you loved in women!

- You make flirty remarks at her, she blushes and unknowing of how to react and just says a short “Thank you.” The sweet old woman in your group is pleasantly confused, “Two girls in love?”, she asks questions like that, until her son remarks to her about how “People can love who they want now ma!” And she lets out a confused but supportive “ah.” She means well, she has so many questions on why you ‘did that to your hair?’ But you she’s just being curious, so you answer all her questions.

- is hesitant to try anything romantic with you, she knows you’d face a lot of challenges in the outside world, with her being transgender and you both being a sapphic couple. But how can she plant these seeds of doubt within herself when you’re so sure and persistent.

- She can’t ignore how her heart flutters when you flirt with her, reminding her how perfect she is.

- You’re practically glued together during the start of the rebellion after having lost Young-Mi, you gush at her when she explains how to use the gun to the fellow players.

- You follow after her, ready to step up and go with her to fight. But she pulls you aside back to 007 and 149 and tells you to stay behind, you’re worried and annoyed but she tells you something which changes how you’re feeling. “You’re the last person I want to lose now.” She declared as she placed her hands on your shoulders. “When all this is over, I’ll buy you dinner.” You remarked whilst twirling your hair and she played a sad and also such a happy smile at you, “I’d like that.”

Hwang Jun-Ho

- Let’s say you’re already dating, he notices people glance at you because of your alternative style; but it doesn’t matter that much to him, you’ve been through heaven and hell with him so he doesn’t care how you choose to express yourself.

- You supported him during his quest of finding his brother, but noting happens to explain why he came back barely alive with a bullet lodged in his shoulder. You’re rightfully pissed off, of course you are.

- His mother adores you, she was unsure of you at first; your hair colour is unique, in a good way. You make her son happy so at the end of the day she doesn’t care.

- All the other police at the station recognise you immediately upon entrance, since you like picking him up after work or to get lunch, the fellow officers and receptionist referred to you as his wife; since you’re wearing a promise ring he’d bought you, they don’t know you haven’t tied the knot yet, but you don’t really mind.

- His mother does a lot of asking of when you’re gonna give her grandchildren, you avert your eyes and almost spat out your water the first time you got asked this question.

- He tells you he’s going on another search for the island, this time with help. You’re rightfully annoyed, last time he got shot?! So you make him swear that this will be the last time, and when he comes back you must try and be a normal family, and never speak of this again. He agrees (not that it took much convincing, he’s been waiting to wife you up tbh.)

- So now here you are waiting for his return, anxiously playing with your fingers.

————————

I love this series so much <3

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gf2bellamy · 1 month ago

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explanation — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: an officer won't stop talking to you content warnings: annoyed spencer, light flirting between reader and spencer a/n: had to write something for glasses reid also he looks so good in this gif ohymgod also this is short sorry

You forced a polite smile, though your patience was wearing thin as the police officer in front of you continued his overly enthusiastic explanation.

His words blended together, a relentless drone that made it increasingly difficult to concentrate.

Still, you nodded along, trying not to seem rude despite the growing urge to check your watch or glance elsewhere.

What you didn’t notice was Spencer standing just a few feet away. He had been watching the exchange, his hazel eyes flickering between the officer and you.

From his position near the evidence board, he clutched a file in one hand, the papers inside creased slightly from the pressure of his grip.

His other hand, balled into a tight fist, remained at his side.

It wasn’t like him to eavesdrop—at least not intentionally—but something about the way the officer leaned just a little too close to you made it impossible for Spencer to look away.

His jaw tightened as he struggled to focus on the task at hand, attempting to study the crime scene photos tacked to the board in front of him.

But his mind wasn’t on the case.

It was on you.

On the way you shifted uncomfortably, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you nodded at the officer, and the way your lips curved into that soft, practiced smile that Spencer had seen you use before when you were trying to be polite but had no real interest in the conversation.

He knew you well enough to read the subtle signs.

He didn’t want to interrupt—he wasn’t sure if he had the right to.

Finally, Spencer cleared his throat, the sound sharp and deliberate as he took a step closer.

“I’ve already explained it to her,” he said flatly.

The monotone delivery caught you off guard, and you turned around quickly to face him, your eyes meeting his behind the familiar frames of his black glasses.

Spencer wasn’t typically one to interrupt, especially not in such a dry way.

The officer, clearly thrown off by Spencer’s blunt interjection, shifted his weight uncomfortably and gave a half-hearted nod. “Oh, uh… right. Well, if you’ve got it covered, then…” His voice trailed off as he stepped back, offering an awkward smile before retreating.

You raised an eyebrow at Spencer as the officer walked away, leaving the two of you alone near the evidence board. “What was that about?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

Spencer shrugged, the file still clutched tightly in his hand. “Nothing,” he replied, his gaze darting to the board as if suddenly engrossed in the timeline pinned there.

But you weren’t convinced. Spencer Reid was many things, but subtle wasn’t one of them—not when it came to how he felt.

You noticed the way his jaw tightened, the faint crease in his brow, and the tension in his posture.

“Spencer,” you pressed, stepping closer.

He hesitated, his fingers flexing around the edges of the file before letting out a small sigh. Finally, he glanced at you, his expression softening just slightly. “I just didn’t think it was necessary for him to keep… explaining things to you,” he said, his words measured. "I already told you everything."

You frowned, trying to piece together the odd behavior. “I mean, he was being—”

“He was wasting your time,” Spencer interrupted, his tone firmer now. His eyes flicked to yours, the frustration evident behind his glasses. “You already know what you’re doing. You don’t need someone like him hovering over you like that.”

The realization hit you like a slow-moving train, the pieces falling into place.

Spencer wasn’t just irritated—he was jealous.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you watched him try to keep his expression neutral, though the faint pink tinge creeping up his neck betrayed him.

“Spence,” you said softly, a teasing lilt in your voice, “were you jealous?”

His eyes widened briefly, and he immediately shook his head. “Jealous? No, I… I wasn’t—” He faltered, his ears turning red as he fumbled for a convincing denial.

“Sure you weren’t,” you teased, crossing your arms as you leaned slightly toward him. “It’s okay, though. It’s kind of… sweet.”

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again, realizing there was no way to argue without making it worse.

Instead, he sighed and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Your smile softened, and you reached out to gently touch his arm. “I’m glad you’re looking out for me. But you don’t have to worry—I’m not interested in anyone hovering over me. Unless, of course, it’s you.”

That earned you a shy smile from Spencer, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with relief.

And just like that, the two of you returned to the case—but not before you caught the subtle glimmer of satisfaction in Spencer’s eyes.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fic

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sonarspace · 2 months ago

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✩ content. 18+, coworker! nanami x fem! reader, protected sex, office sex.

coworker!nanami wasn’t the type to rush things. he was careful, thoughtful in every move he made—like he had all the time in the world. you noticed it the first time he held the elevator door open for you, stepping aside to let you in first with that soft nod he always gave.

he wasn’t flashy or loud like some of the others in the office. no lingering stares or playful flirting. just small gestures—offering you the last coffee pod in the break room, pulling your chair out during meetings, and always walking you to your car when you worked late.

when he asked you out, it wasn’t over text or with some elaborate gesture. it was simple, catching you by surprise at the end of a long day. you were gathering your things, half-distracted, when his voice cut through the soft hum of the empty office.

“would you like to have dinner with me this weekend?”

the words hung in the air, calm but sure, making your heart stutter unexpectedly. you blinked up at him, thrown by how casual he made it sound, as if it wasn’t making your pulse flutter faster.

“i’d like that,” you answered, tucking your hair behind your ear.

he nodded, a faint pull at the corner of his mouth. “i’ll pick you up at seven.”

and he did—right on time, standing at your door with a bouquet of fresh flowers, not the kind you grab last minute at the store, but ones carefully picked out like he’d put thought into it.

dinner was easy. the conversation flowed, soft and unrushed, as if he was content just being there with you. he listened more than he spoke, asking questions in a way that made you feel like he really wanted to know you, not just pass the time.

when he walked you back to your apartment, he didn’t ask to come inside. instead, he paused at the door, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek, soft and warm but not lingering.

“thank you for tonight,” he said, the weight of his hand brushing lightly against your arm before he stepped back.

the second date mirrored the first—calm, unhurried. but this time, when he kissed you, it was on the lips, soft and gentle, like he was testing the waters but not diving in. his lips lingered just enough to make you chase the taste of him with your tongue, even after he pulled away.

it left you touching your lips as you unlocked your door, feeling the ghost of his mouth long after he was gone.

what you didn’t know was how he spent the rest of that night thinking about it too—replaying the softness of your kiss, wondering if he should’ve stayed just a little longer.

it wasn’t until the third date that the pace shifted.

when he invited you over for dinner, his apartment was exactly what you expected—minimal, clean, but still warm, like the person who lived there took care to make it feel like home.

there was a faint smell of coffee lingering in the air, rich and earthy, as if he brewed it often enough for it to soak into the walls. a small stack of books sat neatly on his coffee table, their covers worn but well-loved. near the corner of the room was a collection of vinyl records, carefully arranged alongside a vintage turntable.

as he moved through the kitchen, pouring you a glass of wine, he pulled one of the records from the stack, setting it onto the turntable with the same careful ease he seemed to apply to everything he did.

the room filled with the low hum of music—something old, sensual and smooth, the kind of love song that felt like it belonged to another time. the soft crackle of the vinyl filled the spaces between your words as you ate, the melody winding around the edges of the room like a quiet invitation.

when his hand brushed your thigh, it felt natural, like the warmth of the song had melted the space between you.

later, when his lips pressed against yours, he left the record spinning, the music still drifting softly in the background as he kissed his way down your body.

as he sank between your legs, the song shifted to something slower—french, maybe, the words breathy and delicate, curling through the air like smoke.

he moved with the same rhythm, slow and unhurried, his mouth warm against you, every flick of his tongue drawing out the softest gasps as he held you down, savoring every sound you made.

when he finally slid inside you, the music swelled, the deep hum of the singer’s voice threading through the haze of your breathless moans, filling the room with something tender and electric.

nanami’s pace matched the song—steady, sensual, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered your name, his hands cradling your hips as if he didn’t want to miss a single moment.

the vinyl spun on, crackling softly beneath the weight of your shared breaths, grounding you both in the quiet intimacy that stretched between each note.

by the time monday came, the memory lingered, warm and heavy between you. the space between your desks felt smaller somehow, the air charged with something unspoken but understood.

nanami never acted any differently—still the epitome of professionalism, his touch light and fleeting whenever it crossed yours. but there were small moments where his gaze dipped lower, lingering a second too long on the way your skirt hugged your legs, the faintest twitch of his jaw when you brushed too close.

the tension simmered beneath the surface, winding tighter each day, like the faint static hum of a record waiting to skip.

you felt it most when his hand slid lightly against the small of your back as you leaned over the printer, his palm warm through the thin fabric of your blouse.

“you’ve been distracting me,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear, his lips hovering by your ear.

the words were calm, but the weight behind them made your stomach twist, heat coiling low in your abdomen.

you swallowed, straightening under his gaze as your eyes flickered to the glass walls of his office, thankful for the empty hallway.

it wasn’t until later, when the office thinned out and the sun dipped low behind the skyline, that the tension snapped.

you’d been passing by his office when his hand caught your wrist, thumb brushing lazily over your pulse.

“come in,” nanami said softly, guiding you into his office with that same steady calm that never seemed to waver.

the door clicked behind you, but you barely had a second to register it before he was pressing you back against the solid edge of his desk, his mouth hot and insistent against yours.

the kiss was slow, controlled—but there was something heavier beneath it, the faint groan vibrating in his chest as his hands skimmed the length of your thighs, pushing your skirt up until it bunched around your waist.

“you’ve been driving me insane all week,” he whispered, lips trailing along your jaw as his fingers slid beneath the lace of your panties, pulling them aside with ease.

your breath hitched as his hands gripped your hips, guiding you to bend over the desk with a softness that didn’t match the heat pooling in his gaze.

nanami took his time, as he always did—his touch careful, even as he freed himself from his slacks, the thick weight of him pressing hot against your entrance.

the stretch of him was dizzying, a soft gasp spilling from your lips as he pushed inside inch by inch, his hand steadying against the small of your back as he bottomed out.

“fuck—” the word rasped against your skin, his forehead dropping to the curve of your shoulder, his hips pulling back just enough to snap forward again.

the desk creaked beneath the weight of his movements, his pace unrelenting, the quiet hum of the empty office amplifying every soft moan that slipped from your mouth.

by the time he pulled out, breath ragged and forehead damp, nanami was already tugging your skirt back down, smoothing out the creases with careful hands.

he helped you clean up, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, tucking you beneath his arm as he led you to the door.

as the elevator doors slid open, nanami’s thumb traced the inside of your wrist, grounding but teasing.

“i should soundproof my office,” he murmured, voice low and amused.

your breath hitched, heat blooming in your cheeks. “i wasn’t that loud.”

nanami’s brow arched, lips ghosting your ear. “you were.”

the elevator chimed softly. he lingered close, smirking as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes.

“i didn’t mind,” he added, his palm warm against the small of your back. “but let’s see how much louder you can get next time.”

#luna✮lover #nanami smut #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #nanami x you #jjk drabbles #anime smut #jjk #nanami #jjk smut #jjk nanami #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami drabbles #kento nanami #nanami kento #divider by strangergraphics

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agreeeeeeeeeee · 3 months ago

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Bad Santa | D.M.

“Santa can’t be bad.” He grabbed you by the throat...“Sweet girls, however, always have a naughty side.”

feat. Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend Draco has thrown the Christmas party of the year, and wears a Santa hat to make you smile. But jealousy quickly throws a wrench into your festive evening.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut with a sprinkle of plot, he hates everyone but her, protective, arrogant, and possessive!draco, slightly toxic behavior, pda, dirty talk, sort of insecure reader?? (she just wants to be perfect for him even though he thinks she’s perfect 1000% of the time), Blaise is kind of a dick in this one sorry

You were running late to Draco’s Christmas party, but your red glitter eyeliner was not cooperating, and you were ready to start screaming.

You just wanted to look perfect for him, even though he loved nothing more than seeing you fresh out of the shower, bundled up in his pajamas. But this was one of the last parties he would throw at Hogwarts, and he’d worked so hard on every meticulous detail.

You refused to be the weak link.

There was a soft knock on your door, and your heart fell out of rhythm, thinking it was Draco.

“Come in!” You called, and Theo opened the door, a flute of wine in hand.

He let out a low whistle, freezing in place, forgetting that he definitely was not supposed to be checking you out.

You rolled your eyes, returning to your eyeliner in the mirror. “Eyes up, Nott. Would be a shame to see that pretty face without teeth.”

He shook himself and strode in, setting the drink on the table beside you. It was fizzy and a pale gold, with sugared cranberries floating at the top. “Yeah, yeah. Malfoy sent me to check on you, make sure you didn’t fall out the window or something. And he said to bring you that.” Theo gestured to the drink.

You smiled, taking a sip of the effervescent giggle water. “I’m perfectly fine. Tell Draco I’ll be down soon.” You set the glass down and picked up your liner brush, finishing the last line. You leaned back to make sure they were even and fucking finally, they were.

“You got it, Mrs. Clause,” he bowed and made a swift exit.

Mrs. Clause? You shrugged it off. Theo was always spouting random shit, anyways. You fluffed your hair and stood, straightening your black slip dress. An inch shorter, and it would be considered lingerie, but you wanted Draco to be unable to keep his hands off of you, and this dress would surely do the trick.

You slipped your hands into a pair of black, satin elbow gloves, and stepped into your black platform heels. For the final touch, a swipe of oxblood red lipstick, and you were ready.

The music was loud enough to feel through the floor as you made your way down the stairs, drink in hand, the party in full swing. The room was completely covered in green and white christmas lights, with dozens of trees decorated in Slytherin colors and tinsel snakes scattered throughout the room. Fake snow fell gently from the ceiling, covering everything in a sheen of silver glitter, though it wasn’t cold when it kissed your skin, collecting in your hair and eyelashes.

It was a wonderland, and your heart swelled with pride that your man made it happen.

You turned your attention back to the stairs so you didn't fall face first, and noticed Theo was waiting for you at the bottom.

”Really?” You teased, taking his arm when he offered it to you.

“Are you really surprised?” He muttered in your ear as he lead you through the crowd. “It’s a fucking circus in here.”

Despite your teasing, you were glad for his company once you got into the thick of the party. It seemed your housemates were pulling out all the stops for this one, already teetering into rager territory and it wasn’t even 10 o’clock.

“He’s going to crash out when he sees you,” Theo chuckled, puffing up his chest when some Ravenclaw boy drifted a little too close to you.

“That’s the idea.”

“Crash out indeed.” Draco suddenly appeared in front of you, stepping from the crowd like he’d apparated there, and you nearly tripped over your heels.

He was dressed in all black, like you’d discussed, his suit decorated with black lace and silver trim. But what really threw you was the velvet black Santa hat on his head, the fur trim and bauble like a silver wolfs coat. He looked…sinful.

“Draco!” You exclaimed, flush with excitement. “How did you—”

“Followed the broken necks,” he replied, his gaze roaming from the top of your head to the very tip of your toes with a predator’s gleam. “That’s all, Nott,” he said, an edge of command to his voice, and Theo dissolved into the crowd.

He extended a hand to you and you placed your fingers in his palm, butterflies rioting in your stomach despite having been with Draco for close to a year now. He pulled your bodies together, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other bringing your gloved knuckles to his lips for a chaste kiss.

“I’m speechless, baby,” he murmured, releasing your hand to catch your chin. He tilted your head up towards him, turning you just slightly to watch the shimmer around your eyes dance.

You reached up to flick the bauble on the end of his hat, grinning. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Let me see you,” he purred. He took your hand again and stepped back, spinning you in a slow circle as the snow fell around you. It was like there was no one else in the room, just you and Draco in a winter wonderland. “That’s simply unfair, darling,” he said, pulling you back into him. “Am I meant to fight off every student in attendance?”

“You’re so dramatic,” you snickered, pecking his cheek, and he chuckled.

“C’mon, let’s get you by the fire. It is winter, you know—”

You swatted his arm, letting him lead you through the crowd. Though, Draco had a considerably easier time with it that Theo did, the party-goers shifting apart like the Red Sea. In a few moments, you found your and Draco’s friends sitting in a circle of couches and chairs by the roaring fireplace. The largest arm chair, closest to the fire, was unoccupied, and you noticed two drinks sitting untouched on the table beside it.

A fire whiskey that was certainly Draco’s, and another frosty flute of giggle water with cranberries, presumably for you.

Your friends all greeted you with warm smiles and a wolf whistle from Pansy, and you broke free from Draco to catch up with her and a few of your girls.

“You have no idea, he was so bitchy when you didn’t show up at 9:30 on the dot,” Pansy whispered, giggling.

“Not at you, of course. He’s just never happy when you aren’t around,” another one of your friends muttered.

You glanced over at Draco, who was sitting in his seat, an ankle propped up on the opposite knee, fire whiskey in hand. He was watching you over the rim despite poor Blaise trying to talk to him, and you could feel his gaze like a caress over your exposed back.

“It was my damn eyeliner,” you chuckled, batting your eyes to show them, and they squealed. “Couldn’t get it straight.”

“That’s amazing! Where did you get it—”

“It makes you look like a crazy vixen or something. Slayed.”

“It’s flawless, well worth being thirty minutes late—”

“Thank you, thank you,” you flushed.

“Let’s go dance!” Pansy said, grabbing you by the wrist, and you turned to check with Draco. Not that you needed permission, just to let him know what you were doing.

“Go dance, baby. I’ll be right here, watching very closely,” he called with a smirk, waving you off.

You swallowed the rest of your drink as the girls dragged you out to the edge of the dance floor, where it wasn’t quite as crowded, and the boys could keep an eye on all of you in case anyone got any ideas. You let yourself get lost in the music and the movement, Draco’s watchful the eye the only thing rooting you to the present. Even from across the room, he made you feel secure as gold in Gringott’s, which was why you felt comfortable wearing a dress so revealing, or going to a wild party in the first place.

But, after an hour or so, you started to feel that longing tug in your lower belly, missing his voice, his touch. You grabbed Pansy, shouting in her ear over the roar of the music. “Excuse me, I have to sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what I want for Christmas!”

“Ask for a million dollars!” She shouted back, breathless.

You turned and sauntered across the room to Draco, eyes locked on him, taking care to sway your hips in time to the music.

He set his foot down, patting his thigh with his free hand, a smirk lifting his handsome face. You stepped between his thighs and eased onto his lap, his arm immediately wrapping around your back to grip your thigh, the fat dimpling beneath the pressure as he hauled you closer.

“Hi, Santa baby,” you flirted, lifting your legs to rest them across his other thigh, your heels dangling towards the ground.

“I’d ask if you’ve been a good girl, but I think I know the answer to that,” he hummed, pressing his lips beneath your jaw and kissing downwards at a leisurely place.

“Does that mean ‘no’?” You giggled, letting the heat of his affection flow through you, warming your blood until a buzzy desire bloomed between your legs.

“Good girls don’t dance like that in an attempted murder against their boyfriend,” he chuckled, nipping at your ear before sitting up.

“Attempted murder” You gasped, pressing a hand to your chest. “I would never.”

He passed you your drink, watching your lips as you took a long sip of the fizzy beverage. “I like that lipstick,” he said, softening his voice. “Is it new?”

You nodded. “Santa bought it for me at Hogsmeade.”

Draco laughed, the vibration in his chest making your thighs clench as your arousal continued to build. “Did Santa buy you that dress too?”

“Of course.” You leaned in closer, your lips brushing his ear. “And what’s underneath it.”

His grip tightened on your thigh, and you felt something hard nudge against your hip. “I suppose Santa should let you take his wallet into town more often,” he muttered, a little raspier than before.

“At his own peril,” you warned, smiling.

“Whatever it takes to keep you right here, Mrs. Clause.” His hand slid to the nape of your neck, the tips of his fingers chilled from holding the whiskey glass, and he pulled you in. Your lips connected in heated kiss, tasting cinnamon and drunken cherries. His tongue brushed along the seam of your lips in a request for entry. You parted just slightly for him, a tease, before biting lightly at the tip of his tongue. He grinned, retaliating by biting your lower lip, hard enough to send a delicious flare of pain straight to your most sensitive parts, and you nearly cried out. He soothed the bite with his tongue, and kissed you softly before pulling away.

You knew that lipstick was worth the price tag; barely a ghost of smear colored his lips. He just looked thoroughly kissed, exactly how you wanted him to.

“Why does this party just feel like extremely elaborate foreplay?” Blaise droned, rolling his eyes at the two of you.

“Everything is foreplay to them,” Pansy laughed, flopping down onto the couch between Crabbe and Goyle.

“Jealous, Zabini?” Draco asked, leaning back a little further into the chair, his legs spreading wider so gravity shifted more of your weight into his body. He was so warm and solid, the feel and presence of him making your head go a little fuzzy. Or perhaps it was the giggle water taking effect.

“Sorry, Blaise,” you said, nudging his shoulder with the toe of your heel. “We’ll try to keep the pda under control.”

“I didn’t agree to that,” Draco argued, grabbing your ankle and tucking your foot back against his calf. “Let ‘em suffer.”

“Draco, don’t be cruel,” you scolded, though everyone knew you didn’t mean it.

“Cruel? Cruel would be denying everyone the sight of you. He should be thanking me,” Draco countered, his hand caressing up and down your shin, the other kneading the fat of your haunch.

“Ah, yes. Thank you for allowing me to watch you all but fuck your girl in front of the entire student body,” Blaise snapped, and you felt Draco’s energy immediately shift into dangerous territory.

“Just say you’re jealous and shut the fuck up, Blaise. You’re being a dick,” Goyle shot back, with a grunt in agreement from Crabbe.

“Baby,” you murmured, quiet enough that only Draco could hear you. “Ignore him. He’s just trying to get a rise out of you and ruin our fun.” You rubbed your gloved hand over his chest, feeling his heart pounding through his expensive shirt. He was glaring at Blaise, anger slithering through the blue of his eyes, promising pain.

“No, I want him to say what he means,” Draco said, his tone deceptively light, and you inwardly groaned. “Go on, mate. Tell us the truth.”

Theo made a ‘don’t’ sign with his hand, but Blaise was glaring right back at Draco, apparently foolish enough, or drunk enough, to take the bait.

“I wouldn’t parade my girl around like that, is all. Wouldn’t want another bloke seeing what’s mine.”

Draco was up in a flash, leaving you in a heap on his chair. Blaise jumped up too, but Theo got between them before they collided.

“She can do whatever she damn well pleases. And I’m not going to let some microdicked cunt make her think twice about it,” Draco growled, and your heart gave an ill-timed flutter, your pussy tingling anew. You knew Draco shouldn’t be so protective, and it’s gotten him in trouble on more than one occasion, but you couldn’t help it. You loved seeing Draco’s dark side come out on your behalf.

“Fuck you, Malfoy,” Blaise replied, shoving into Theo to try and reach Draco. Theo shoved Blaise backwards and Draco managed to get around him, grabbing Blaise up by the collar. You got to your feet, fear pumping through you, but Theo blocked you before you could intervene.

“Now, I’m going to give you the opportunity to apologize to her on your own, or I will force it out of you,” Draco said, his voice menacingly low. When Blaise tried in vain to free himself, Draco shook him hard, nearly hitting his head against the stone fireplace. “Now, Zabini.”

Blaise’s eyes met yours, wide with fear, but deeply angry. “I’m sorry, y/n,” he hissed through his teeth, venomous as a hex.

Draco pushed him hard, throwing him onto the ground. He loomed over the prone boy, raising his wand.

“Draco!” You shouted, managing to get around Theo is his shock. You got between Draco and Blaise, throwing your arms around your boyfriends neck and pressing yourself to his front. “He’s not worth getting expelled,” you hissed in his ear, his eyes feral and jaw set. “Please, please don’t do this.”

You felt him soften, just a fraction.

“Merlin, I’m sorry, okay!” Blaise shouted, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, y/n.” Sincerity softened the Blaise’s voice, and Draco finally lowered his wand.

You applied some pressure to Draco’s front, trying to get him to move, and he took a step back, an unspoken acquiescence. You grabbed his hand and dragged him through the sea of onlookers and up to his dorm, his hand a vice on yours.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Draco lunged, crushing you against the wall in a fervid, desperate kiss. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the race of his heart, and knew that he needed an outlet for his temper.

“No one talks to you like that,” he growled against your neck, biting at your skin while he wrapped your legs around his waist. “I don’t care if it’s my friends, my father, or bloody Minister of fucking Magic.”

“Yes, Draco!” You cried out when he ground his hardening cock against your clothed cunt, your eyes rolling back at the friction.

“You’re mine,” he said, his lips releasing from your skin with a pop. “Mine to spoil, mine to dote on, mine to touch, kiss, fuck.”

“Fuck, yes. All yours.” You pulled off your gloves and dug your fingers into his platinum hair, knocking off the Santa hat in pursuit of another scalding kiss. He obliged you, tangling his tongue with yours and loosing a low groan. He peeled you off of the wall, not breaking the kiss, and tossed you onto a bed.

Not his bed, you realized almost immediately.

“Draco—”

“Just want to leave a little gift for Blaise,” he said, kissing down your chest while his hands pushed up your skirt, revealing the g-string you bought just for him. It was black and trimmed in diamonds, nothing but mesh covering your puffy, drooling lips. “Look at you,” he cooed, softening further. He lowered himself to rest fully between your legs and grazed his thumb over the mesh, feeling the wetness soaking through. “You bought these for me?”

You nodded, chewing your lower lip and resisting the urge to press yourself into his hand.

“How very considerate of you, darling,” he praised, hooking the fabric with his middle finger and tugging it aside. He pressed a kiss to your clit before swiping a languid lick through your slit, finally relaxing back into his usual, calm demeanor. He always settled like this when it was just the two of you, your body laid out all for him, like it appeased some ravenous beast inside of his chest.

Between your legs was where he made his confession, where he bared his soul and sought forgiveness for his trespasses.

“M’sorry for being such a brute,” he murmured against you, sucking lightly at your clit.

“I love when you stand up for me,” you said, your words tangled with a soft moan as he continued to lap at you, so soft it makes your chest ache.

You felt him smile against you before sitting back on his heels, your slick glossing his lips and chin. “That why you’re dripping for me? Did it turn you on when I got angry?” It was a rhetorical question. He knew it turned you on when he was set off, as it had resulted in many a shagging in broom closets and empty classrooms. “Or was it the Santa hat?” he teased, getting up and grabbing it off of the floor.

“Draco, come back,” you whined, reaching for him while he put the hat back on his head. He was toying with you now, seeing how worked up he could get you before either of you snapped.

If there was one thing you knew for certain about Draco Malfoy, it’s that he loved the chase. Perhaps it was the Slytherin in him, the desire to scheme and plot, to coax out their prey before they strike.

He grabbed your ankle and tugged you the edge of the bed, your hips flush against his. “I’m here,” he soothed, running his hands over your thighs and spreading your legs a little further for him. “Baby, that makeup…” his eyes danced over your face. “Lose my train of thought when you look at me like that.”

You sat up, inching your hips closer to his, feeling his hardness pressing against you. “You like it?” You asked, batting your lashes while you push his jacket off of his shoulders, the blazer landing with an umph onto the floor.

“I do.” He reached up to ghost his fingers over your face, brushing your fake lashes with the gentlest touch, tracing over your nose, your eyebrows, your lined cupid’s bow. “You’re beyond beautiful, darling.”

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss underneath his jaw, sucking lightly at his pulse, and he heaved a contented sigh, his hand sliding into your hair. With deft fingers, you started to undo the buttons of his shirt, kissing down his pale chest as you went.

“How do you always manage to disarm me?” He asked, scratching gently at your scalp, watching you through heavy lidded eyes. “I was so angry, then you just—you just chased it away with your sweet little self.”

You preened under his gentle touch, loving that only you got to see this side of him, that there was a Draco you didn’t have to share with the rest of the world.

“I like myself better when I’m with you,” he murmured, tightening his grip on your hair to force you head up. “Like I’m not all bad.”

Your heart cracked, affection making it swell a few sizes too large. “Draco, you are not bad,” you shushed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pecking his lips. “You’re wonderful, and I love you. All of you.”

He smiled, catching your lips in a deeper kiss. “I love you too, sweet girl.”

“Even if you’ve been a bad Santa,” you tease, flicking the bauble at the end of his hat.

“Santa can’t be bad.” He grabbed you by the throat and shoved you back down, looming over you with a cheeky smirk on his face. “Sweet girls, however, always have a naughty side.”

“Not me!” you giggled.

“Back talk, hm?” He slid his hand down to the top of your dress and pulled it down, freeing your bare breasts. He laved a tongue over one of your nipples, making your eyes roll back when he sucked it between his teeth, biting gently.

Your hips bucked up involuntarily, a cry falling from your lips when your clit ground against his length.

“Where'd my sweet girl go? All I see now is a needy slut.” He lightly slapped your tit he'd just been nursing, making you jump and keen, a deep pulse of arousal making your pussy drip. “You know what sluts get for Christmas?” He asked, undoing the buttons of his trousers. You felt his cock spring out, scalding hot and solid.

You shook your head, already half dumb from his hot and cold teasing, zeroed in on the feeling of his cock nudging against your drooling entrance.

“Fucked,” he growled, and slammed himself to the hilt, splitting you down the middle.

You cried out, arching off the mattress when he withdrew and slammed back in, rebuilding you only to shatter you once more. Your pussy made the most obscene sounds, sloppy as it gripped him. He loosed an unintelligible stream of curses, fucking into you with all the fervor he had when you initially fled the party.

“Fuck, Draco,” you cried, muffling yourself on Blaise's now tousled quilt.

“That's a good girl, cry all you like. I want him to know exactly how hard I fucked you on his bed.” He leaned over you, grabbing one of Blaise's pillows and tucking it under your lower back, elevating your hips so he could hit a new, more intense angle.

“Mmph, so deep,” you whined, stars dancing being your eyes, the coil in your stomach winding tighter with every graze of his cockhead against that ruthless, spongy place inside of you.

“Gonna make a mess of this perfect pussy. Shit, love—so fucking tight f’me,” he groaned, throwing one of your ankles over his shoulder and biting at your calf. “So fucking pretty taking my cock,” he mumbled between kisses along your shin, holding your ankle in a bruising grip to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

You were getting so close, swallowing scream after scream as he pounded you.

“Gonna come for me, sweet girl? Can feel you squeezing harder, soaking my cock.” He released his grip on your hip to smear his fingers over your clit, rubbing back and forth at brutal pace, letting you hear just how wet you were. “C’mon, baby. You're so close—oh fuck.”

You came with a scream, biting down on the quilt in a feeble attempt to quiet yourself as your orgasm tore through you, forcing a gush of moisture from your pussy.

“Merlin, baby. That's perfect, you're doing so good for me, sweetheart,” he praised, sounding a little starstruck, and more than a little excited.

It was like he replaced your blood with fire whiskey, burning, bright, dizzying. You were soaring, awash with bliss as he fucked you through it, moving slower to savor the way you fluttered around him.

You blinked your eyes open, bleary and a cockdrunk.

“There she is,” he cooed, setting your leg down and leaning forward to kiss your cheeks, your nose, your lips. “You alright?”

You nodded, stretching your arms overhead like a tired kitten.

“Not done yet, lovey. C’mere.” He slipped out of you, ignoring your whine of protest and tugged you to the edge of the bed. He tossed Blaise's pillow, now soaked with your release, onto the floor. “On your knees, darling.”

You happily obliged, lowering yourself to the ground and grabbing at his cock before he had a chance to sit. He chuckled, letting you lap at his messy shaft, loving the taste of you smeared on his skin. Marking him as yours.

“All yours, baby. Don't fret.” He stroked your chhek, staring down at you with a lovesick smile. “Look at me.”

You flicked your eyes upwards as you start working your mouth down his cock, taking him about halfway before retreating. He was flushed and breathing hard, his black button down open to reveal his muscular chest, littered with love bites you left behind. The Santa hat was still on his head, slightly askew from the thorough fucking, and his blue eyes were blazing.

He groaned, hand tightening on the sheets. “Baby, your eyes. Got me in a chokehold,” he rasped, hips rocking forward in time with your head.

Evidently, the eyeliner was very much worth it.

You wrapped your hand around the base and increased your pace, close to gagging yourself on his length, your eyes fixed firmly on his reactions.

His head lolled back on his shoulders, throat bobbing as he moaned, mouth falling open. “Fuck, m’already close.”

A trill of pride washed through you and you pushed even further, his head nudging the back of your throat and making your eyes water.

“Shit, thats it, angel. Just like that. Open that pretty throat for me.” He fisted your hair and stalled your movements, his cock buried in your mouth and cutting off your air. “Fuck!” He cried, pulling your head back and grasping his cock, pumping himself against your tongue as the first rope of release splattered against it.

You stuck your tongue out, letting him fill your mouth with his spend while he moaned and cursed, his whole body bowing around you with the force of it.

He milked himself dry, heaving a loud exhale followed by a sly smile, and gripped your chin, tilting your head up for him. “My sweet girl,” he cooed, swiping up a dribble of cum from your chin and feeding it between your lips. “Swallow.”

You did, swallowing down every bit of cum before opening your mouth for him, sticking out your now clean tongue.

He grinned, scooping you up into his arms and raining kisses over your face and neck. “So fucking perfect. How did I get so lucky?”

You giggled, dizzy with delight, and wrapped your arms around him, nuzzling into his shoulder.

"You wanna go back to the party?" He asked, and you scoffed, earning a relieved smile. He tucked an arm under your knees and hefted you into the air, carrying you across the room to his bed. He laid you down and rummaged through his trunk, finding a pair of pajamas you liked, before walking back over to you.

You loosed a big yawn, eyelids heavy, and he chuckled.

“Fucked out, hm?” He teased, pulling the dress over your head and tossing it aside before replacing it with one of his Quidditch t-shirts.

You answered with another yawn, flopping back onto his fancy, silk pillows.

He shimmied a pair of boxers up your legs before tucking you into his quilt, the smell of his expensive body wash wrapping around you as you settled.

He clicked his tongue. “Face towards me, sweetheart.” You turned your head, eyes closed, and felt a cool cloth wipe across your cheek, your eyes, your forehead. Diligently, he removed your makeup inch by inch, careful to not pull or tug. He even let your lashes soak off, counting to thirty under his breath before removing them, instead of just tugging them off. When he was finished, he leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Your makeup was lovely, but you are so beautiful as you are “

You hummed in appreciation, eyes still closed, and puckered your lips for a kiss, which he happily provided.

Then he stood and you could hear him moving around the room, picking up your trail of items and righting the room.

“You aren't really gonna leave that on Blaise's bed?” You mumbled, peaking at him over the covers.

“Oh, I certainly am,” he replied, fluffing it up and setting it back where he found it. “Maybe he'll keep his mouth shut next time.”

You rolled your eyes, snuggling back down into the pillows. You wanted no part of their twisted drama.

A few moments later, you felt the covers lift and the bed dip, and Draco’s warm body wrapped around you, shirtless and in sweatpants. He nuzzled into your neck, taking a deep breath.

“You never told me what you wanted for a Christmas?” He murmured, pressing a kiss to the curve of your shoulder.

Your brain was sluggish, trying to piece together what you wanted. But you could only think of one thing.

“Dark chocolate frog,” you mumbled, and he burst out laughing.

“Then you'll have an army of dark chocolate frogs, my love.”

Thank you sm for reading!

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy one shot #draco x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #slytherin boys fanfiction #slytherin boys #christmas fic #smut fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine

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qlossytbh · 10 months ago

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https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeuQ8EA6/

I am obsessed with this edit!

Can you do a spencer reid x bau reader where she is very closed off emotionaly so he doesnt know if she likes him back or not until she does the little "tuck her hair behind her ears thing"?

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 you were someone spencer found very hard to read. that is until the day of your birthday, where you accidentally do the infamous double tuck

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 PURE FLUFF, my beloved awkward spence <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.5k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 this is so sickeningly sweet. my heart is literally about to implode, they’re so awkward and wholesome. this request was so fucking cute i just had to do something with it

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

"Garcia!" You smiled sweetly, immediately infecting those around with a mirror of your very smile. You held one of your favorite candles between your hands, tracing the glass beneath your fingertips— You had just been meaning to buy a new one.

Garcia beamed proudly, knowing she had nailed your birthday gift, a task many deemed imposible. It’s not that you were hard to please, not at all. You had always been closed off with those around you, opting to talk very little about yourself and allowing people to talk a lot about themselves, which is what people nowadays loved doing. As a profiler, you knew exactly how to prevent prying eyes from seeing anything past the depths of yours.

However, to Spencer particularly, it was absolutely infuriating to not be able to read you properly. Any hypothesis he made up in his head based on any of your gazes, your gestures, your small quirks and antics— only turned out being proven wrong since you'd completely redirect him in an opposite direction to what he believed you were thinking.

He was constantly thrown off by you, and Spencer wasn't the type of person who particularly enjoyed being wrong or not being able to perfectly calculate and analyze a situation. His job was profiling after all.

There was a single reason and he tried to remain completely oblivious. But he knew that the only reason as to why he wanted so desperately to know about you was because he liked you— he really liked you.

As in 'became a blabbering mess around you' liked you, as in 'couldn't formulate a coherent sentence around you' liked you— It was so hard for him to act normal around you. Anytime you appeared out of no where, asking how his day had been, and offering another one of those teeth-rottening sweet smiles, he'd go blank and feel utterly stupid. Every aspect of being a genius vanished into thin air when it came to you.

Morgan teased him persistently, being able to see his fuming crush from a mile away. Spencer sat down quietly, watching you hug Garcia happily as you sat the candle down onto your desk. When you pulled away, you tucked a single strand of hair behind one ear, smiling brightly.

"So, has she done it yet?" Morgan inquired, appearing right behind Spencer as he watched you silently from his own desk. Spencer flinched, turning immediately in his chair, looking over at his fellow co-worker and friend like a deer caught in headlights. He used his hand to push Morgan's face away from his with a shove. Garcia, who accompanied Morgan, stood by the side, bemused entirely by the situation .

Morgan lowered his tone, lacing it with implicit teases that flew past his familiar smirk. He leaned against Spencer's desk. "So how's the stalking going Lover boy?"

Garcia laughed to herself unwittingly while she mixed her coffee around in her mug with a spoon. Spencer glowered at the two of them.

"I'm not stalking," He defended matter of factly. "And stop with the 'lover boy'"

"But that's what you'd call someone who's head over heels for our dear little—" Morgan began saying in a sing-song voice as he poked at Spencer's cheek, desperate to get a reaction out of his constant teasing. With a firm slap, Spencer shooed him away, blushing profusely.

"I'm not.!" He fussed. Garcia let out a soft snort, to which Spencer was not amused by. In the slightest.

"Really?" Garcia asked, almost in amusement. The only one truthfully believing what Spencer was saying was himself.

"I'm just looking t-to—" Spencer pulled his lips into a flat line, unable to come up with a plausible excuse quick enough. "—to figure out what she may want for her birthday."

Garcia and Morgan exchanged a brief glance before simultaneously regarding Spencer. He sputtered, still glaring at them.

"What?!"

"Oh nothing.." Garcia took a sip of her coffee with a smirk. "Has she done it yet?"

"I asked the same thing!" Derek turned to Garcia. They laughed together as if one big secret was being tossed around in front of everyone and no one else knew. Spencer furrowed his brows, looking at them oodly.

"Done what?" Spencer couldn't help but ask, curiosity tickling him.

"The double tuck," Garcia stated, looking back over at Reid. The furrow in Spencer's brow deepened as he opened his mouth to speak.

"The—what?"

Derek then proceeded to give a very specific demonstration of whatever it was Garcia was talking about. Derek batted his lashes, putting on the most innocent face he could muster and giggled nervously as he pretended to tuck hair behind both ears. Spencer cringed at his antics while Garcia let out a laugh.

"When she really likes a guy and gets nervous she tucks her hair behind both ears at the same time,"

Spencer looked back over at you as you handed a fellow co-worker a few files, talking aimlessly. You threw your head back laughing at something the woman who chatted with you had said and Spencer couldn't stop a small smile from creeping it’s way onto his face.

"She hasn't," He said, still looking at you intently. Garcia and Derek shared a look and with one more sip of coffee, she added.

"She will.”

"Watch out lover boy, she'll catch you staring—" Morgan whispered in Spencer's ear, which only caused him to reach back in protest and slap Derek away. He turned to glare at him while Morgan laughed.

You thanked Garcia one final time and turned your attention over at Morgan who was now laughing in a way that you felt intrigued enough to want to be involved in whatever it was the two of them were laughing at. You tilted your head slightly to the side, furrowing your brows with a smile.

"What's so funny over there boys?" Penelope asked, lips curving into a sly smirk while she crossed her arms across her body. Spencer froze, looking over at you immediately.

"Uh— we, uhm—" He stammered, cheeks beginning to buzz with heat. Before he could dig his grave any deeper, JJ and Emily walked into the room singing happy birthday with a tray of cupcakes in their hands.

You turned to them, eyes blowing wide. A nervous laugh erupted out of you, causing you to lower your face and hide it in your hands, feeling profusely embarrassed. Getting this kind of public attention wasn’t something you preferred, and it made you wonder if there was anyone that truthfully enjoyed getting their chants of happy birthday’s in public.

Spencer’s could practically feel and hear the way his heart bursted in his chest as he watched you crinkle your face in embarrassment. It was evident on every single fraction of his face— the awe that pooled behind his irises and the way his cheeks were tainted a specific shade of pink.

"Someone's fallin'—" Derek started.

"Shut up."

The day had gone by swiftly. It had been a slow and uneventful day, so no crimes were up for reviewing. You had instead, been drowned in paperwork that had your back aching by the end of the day.

However, being surrounded by all of your friends and receiving so much appreciation and love on your special day had been a plus, urging you further to push throughout the rest of the day.

Hotch had given you an okay to leave early, and knowing that your parents were waiting for you to take you out for your birthday dinner, you hurriedly packed up your things into your purse.

On your way out, you shot a goodbye to everyone with a bright smile plastered across your features. As you walked past Spencer's desk, you offered him a brief glance accompanied with a small wave. “Bye Spence,"

He waved back woefully, blinking rapidly and pressing his lips into a tight smile that inched sideways. Not wanting to give himself the pleasure of gawking at you further, he turned to his files, swirling his pen in his hand nervously.

Someone cleared their throat, catching Spencer's attention. He turned seeing JJ, Emily and Morgan peering over at him from their respective desks.

"Really?" Emily pinched the skin between her eyebrows with frustration.

"What?" Suddenly he was feeling mortified that all his co-workers had been watching his entire inner-turmoil.

"Did you even give her the gift you spent weeks putting together?" JJ tested, resting her chin in her hand. Spencer looked away sheepishly, scribbling something onto his paper and not entirely sure how JJ knew about it.

"I— I forgot.." He said, voice small while he tripped over his own words.

"Reid, just get out there," Derek urged. He was beginning to get restless with watching the two of you ghost around eachother like two idiots.

Spencer stopped scribbling and glanced over at you briefly as you walked out the main door that lead towards the elevators. He looked back over to the others who all shot him a look of encouragement. He supposed that it wouldn't be a bad idea just to— you know, give you your present.

The impulse in him was screaming and yelling at him to just get up and chase after you. But another part of him was forcing him to stay glued to his desk, letting you leave yet again.

It really didn't help him not being sure where you stood when it came to your friendship. At times, he’d get the smallest intuition that maybe, just even possibly, you were on the same page as him, but the insecurity that lingered within him was loud enough to prevent him from ever doing anything about it.

He had to get over himself— it was just a present. Everyone had given you one except him, and he didn't want you thinking he didn't care. He knew he didn't give it to you not because he didn't care but because he cared too much and he felt really scared that maybe by giving you his gift you may not—

He clapped his eyes shut, realizing he really had to stop overthinking and just, in the ‘wise’ words of Morgan, 'shoot his shot'.

Spencer, peered down at his pocket, and back over at the door.

You pushed the glass door open, looking down at your phone and tugging your scarf up to cover your nose from the piercing cold.

"Y/n!" You turned, surprised to see Spencer running through the lobby and out the main door, catching up to you.

You watching him, wide-eyed and taken aback as he jogged up to you, opening his mouth to say something but having to lean over to catch his breath. He didn’t know if it had been the brief run or the unforeseen anxiety that caused him to run out of breathe— whichever it was, he needed to work on it.

You let out a soft laugh, finding his behavior amusing. “You okay?”

You followed him with your gaze while he finally straightened himself. No words were said as his chest heaved. He looked into your eyes, immediately regretting it as his rapid pulse hammered against his head. You too began to feel your heart begin to pick up its pace until you found yourself reaching up and tucking your hair behind both ears, looking at the floor sheepishly

And there it was.

Spencer's mind stopped running the second he registered your movements and Garcia's words flashed across his mind so quickly he almost didn’t remember.

"When she really likes a guy and gets nervous she tucks her hair behind both ears at the same time,"

"I, uhm—" He started, trying to prevent a grin from rising onto his face at his newfound information.

You watched him curiously, starting to wonder if his cheeks were turning pink due to how cold it was or if he was possibly blushing.

Spencer reached into his pocket and took out a small chained bracelet. It was small and dainty— nothing too flashy or flamboyant. He held his slightly trembling hand out to you, revealing the small, nearly minuscule butterfly charm that sat on center of it. You stared at it in awe, reaching over and grasping it.

As you stared at it, you recalled the first conversation you had with Spencer. It was nearly spring and you were on one of your first cases with the team. As you inspected one of the crime scenes, a butterfly had suddenly latched onto your wrist.

You looked at the small insect, briefly startled, but once realizing the absence of danger, you quickly allowed yourself to gaze upon the bug with curiosity and awe.

Spencer watched you intently. He knew close to nothing about you, but something inside him twisted with your tender gaze towards something so small and fragile. He couldn’t stop himself from opening his mouth and beginning one of his endless rants on that specific species of butterfly and how butterflies were a symbolism of good luck and, oh so on.

He couldn't stop talking and that was the first impression you had gotten from Spencer. He was profusely embarrassed afterwards, realizing he had probably overstepped a boundary you had yet to set given since— he really didn't know you all that much.

However, you smiled at him and asked him to tell you more. Since that day, butterflies had become your favorite.

And since that day, Spencer felt his heart double in size any time you were near him.

"Spence," You looked back up at him. "This is beautiful."

He smiled awkwardly, and shuffled on his heels, feeling his pulse quicken. How fast can one’s pulse beat? "I didn't want you thinking I had forgotten about a gift I just, didn't really know when to give it to you and I though—"

You watched his every movement intently, noticing the small pool of fog leave his mouth with each breath due to the cold, not even trying to avoid lingering your gaze on his lips.

"No! No—" You waved your hands in front of him frantically, panicking at the thought of him feeling in any way obligated to get you stuff, even if it was your birthday. It felt too indulgent from him— especially from him.

“It's okay..! You didn't have to get me anything, much less something so special,"

"I—" Spencer looked to the side. With the simple confirmation of your little hair tuck, he decided to push his luck, relying completely on Garcia’s analysis. "I wanted to."

You felt heat all over your face. You grabbed the small chain and easily slipped it onto your wrist, looking at it in awe. You once again, unconsciously tucked your hair behind both of your ears. Spencer noticed this but this time, he allowed himself to smile widely like kid on christmas morning.

You smiled down at it. Spencer watched you, eyes pooling with affection. You looked back up at him, realizing the way his gazed lingered on you. There was some form of affection that was quite evident, but you couldn’t allow yourself to think anything of it. Nothing was said, and that made you incredibly nervous.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something but not being able to. The mix of the piercing cold and the invasive anxiety wasn’t doing him any good as his shoulders shook lightly. You took notice, and it made sense since he had chased you down in nothing but a blue button up shirt. Without a single word, you reached for your scarf and unwrapped it from your neck. You’d do okay with the cold. You had enough layers— and you were blushing enough to heat your whole body up.

You pushed yourself onto the tip of your toes, wrapping it around Spencer's neck in order to give him some sort of warmth. Spencer immediately grew dizzy, failing to ignore how the scarf smelled just like you always did— a burnt vanilla mixed with the sweetest notes of sugared petals, warm and inviting. He also failed to ignore how close you suddenly were.

Something in you flipped and with a slap of encouragement, you once again pushed yourself onto your toes and planted a tender kiss onto his cheek, staining it ever so slightly with the soft red chapstick you were wearing.

"Blue looks good on you," You said, hands still playing with the blue scarf that sat comfortably around his neck. You wish you could’ve taken a picture of his face, starstruck and dizzy.

You caught the small red stain on his cheek. You smiled, reaching up and smudging your thumb across the stain. "So does red."

Spencer had nearly felt his knees buck. Your sudden bold moves were causing him to spin. It had always been so hard trying to decipher your intentions and antics, but with you standing so close to him, for the first time, he found everything so clear and evident. Like the last layer of secrecy had been ripped off in the matter of seconds and he was entranced.

That could be part of the reason as to why Spencer couldn’t stop himself from leaning down and placing a firm kiss onto your lips.

You froze momentarily, completely caught off guard, especially since you had always thought what you felt for Spencer was one-sided. But soon enough, you eased and smiled into the kiss. It was sweet and soft, innocent and pure, and it was perfect.

He pulled away harshly, suddenly realizing what he had done. "I’m—"

“No!—“ You were surprised at the lack of stability in your voice. “T-that was fine,”

Oh if one could kick themselves. Fine?!

He cleared his throat, words caught deep into his throat. You blushed profusely, wanting to slap yourself back into reality as you grew more and more fidgety and nervous.

"I—" You both said simultaneously. This was embarrassing.

You shot him a nervous smile as you both proceeded to stumble upon each-others words, neither being able to form a coherent sentance.

"Are— Are you doing anything tomorrow..?" Spencer asked, anxiety clawing at him relentlessly.

"No," You felt anticipation in your chest as you shuffled your grip on your purses strap.

"Would you want to?—” He asked, voice small, as if testing the waters and terrified to how you would reply. “You know, do something..?”

A giddy smile grew onto your face, as your hands reached up, and for a third time, tucked hair behind both ears.

"I’d love to," You said. Spencer felt like he was on cloud nine.

"Great! Uh—" He glanced down, pursing his lips. "Cool..”

You stifled a laugh, as he peered over at you with a smile. "I'll text you,"

"Cool.." You pointed over to your car, realizing that it was getting late. "I'm going to, uh—"

A grin that stretched from ear to ear was plastered across Spencer face as you began walking away, also smiling to yourself giddily. Once your back was turned to him, you squeezed your eyes shut, nearly jumping with joy.

"Happy birthday..!" He shot out. You turned, offering him a wave. Spencer watched until you climbed into your car and left the driveway, with the widest, most stupidly huge smile plastered all over his face.

Of course, when he reappeared at his desk, wrapped in your scarf, cheek stained slightly, and the most dazed look splattered all across his features, Morgan didn't skip the opportunity to tease the hell out of him— again.

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