#you know that one is my favorite and you know i’m impatient

[chvoswxtch]

blondie really clowned the fuck out of us

“we’re getting rep tv!” “no the red herring error code means it’s debut tv!” “she’s gonna fake us out and drop karma!”

nope

she said surprise bitches have some sad poetry

[whytheylosttheirminds]

home for the holidays (part one) - r.c.

❄️ a frat!rafe cameron holiday mini series ❄️

summary a simple favor for a friend ends with you reluctantly bringing Rafe Cameron, resident campus fuckboy, home for the holidays. It’s gonna take more than a little mistletoe for him to win you over…

content “enemies” to lovers, copious amounts of flirting, eventual smut, a dash of familial angst, parental illness and mentions of parental death, 18+ mdni

Brodyyy <3: hey thanks again for offering to give me a ride back to nc for break!

You: ofc! anything for u after u gave me those o chem notes bestie

Brodyyy <3: i’m glad to hear ya say that…bc i have one more favor to ask

You: what’s up?

Brodyyy <3: one of my frat bros needs a ride back too, can he join?

You: does he live near us?

Brodyyy <3: he’s from obx but if you get us to my house I can take him the rest of the way in my mom’s car, so no extra driving for you!

You: yeah then i guess that’s cool!!

You: as long as i’m home before 6pm on the 21st i’m good

Brodyyy <3: cookie day?

You: exactly, u get me

Brodyyy <3: dw we’ll get you home in time for cookies! Tysm!

You: np!

You: what’s his name btw?

Brodyyy <3: …

You: *questioned* “what’s his name btw?”

Brodyyy <3: rafe

You: be so fr rn

You: as in cameron???

You: Brody, did u seriously invite rafe cameron to drive home with us??

Hour one

You could see your breath, fog filling the air with each shivering exhale as you pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders. Even after three-and-a-half years, you’d never gotten used to these North Eastern winters. The plan was to be well on your way towards a milder climate by now, but here you were, leaning against the open hatchback trunk of your car, desperately clutching your hot coffee as you waited for your friend to show up. With his friend. You rolled your eyes as you checked the time on your phone for the hundredth time, none of your many texts to Brody returned.

“Brody, I swear to god,” you mumbled under your breath, “five more minutes and I’m leaving your ass.”

Time ticked on without any sight of him. With a resigned sigh, you reached up to close the trunk.

“Hey wait up!” a voice called from behind you. You whipped around to find its owner.

Standing a few feet back on the sidewalk, sherpa lined corduroy jacket, backpack slung over his shoulder and obnoxiously handsome smirk painted on his face, was Rafe Cameron. Notorious playboy, frat president, and hands down your least favorite person on this campus. 

It wasn’t a big school, everyone knew Rafe Cameron. All of your friends had crushes on him, some of them even managed to hook up with him or have stories of making out with him at frat parties. Every Friday night, he popped up on every Insta story on campus, somehow everywhere at once, and yet your paths had never crossed directly. You were okay with that. You knew his type well enough.

“I’m Rafe,” he interjected when you didn’t greet him.

“I know,” you said dryly.

“My reputation precedes me?” He grinned, his slight southern drawl reminding you of home with a pang of nostalgia, until you remembered that this guy was from a completely different world than you.

“I wouldn’t be too proud of that,” you shot back, slamming the trunk closed. “Where’s Brody?”

Rafe usually gave people about ten seconds before he decided if he liked them or not. A lethal combination of impatience and general distrust that he disguised seamlessly under cocky confidence. Your arms were crossed in hostility as you frowned at him, even though he’d barely said two words to you. 

Ah yes, he knew exactly your type. You were that irritating brand of stuck up smart girl who always saw right through him. Sure, you were surprisingly really pretty, a fact Brody had forgotten to mention, but annoying nonetheless. He decided right then not to like you, since you so clearly had already decided not to like him. 

“He’s not coming,” Rafe informed you. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“No, he didn’t,” you huffed, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he got a gig with a professor to be a research assistant, but he’s gotta stay on campus to do it,” he explained.

“He could’ve told me,” you rolled your eyes, checking the time again to calculate how far behind his no-show had made you. “I’m gonna have to adjust the schedule.”

“The schedule?” He cocked his head, picking up on the tightly wrinkled knot in your forehead as you pulled a folded piece of graph paper from your pocket.

It was color coded and intricate, every mile, every meal, every gas stop accounted for, down to the minute. You had a pencil in your hair, tucked neatly into your messy bun so you could pull it out quickly and make necessary changes, as you were doing now. You held the paper up against the side of your car, erasing and scribbling intensely as you recalculated the trip. 

“I need to be home by six at the latest, it’s nine now, that leaves only an hour for stops and traffic, we were supposed to leave at eight…” you looked up to eye him pointedly as you said the last part, silently blaming him for the delay as you did your mental math.

“Sorry to make you wait, I needed my beauty sleep,” he raised his hands in defense, lips curling back to display his shiny white smile. “You don’t think this all just happens naturally do you?” He gestured to his face.

You tucked the paper back into your pocket as you eyed him up and down, unimpressed and yet simultaneously beginning to understand why all your girlfriends had fallen so easily for this douchebag. He was handsome, sharp features permanently set in an arrogant smirk. His body was tall and lean yet built, enough that you could tell he was muscular even under all those layers. His dirty blonde hair sat messy over his forehead, sticking out at all angles in a way that made it clear he’d just woken up. 

But you were smart, life and your high IQ made you an expert in reading people. You could see right through him.

“I wasn’t waiting for you, I was waiting for Brody,” you shut him down. “And since he’s apparently not coming, I’m gonna hit the road,” you slammed the trunk closed, pulling your keys from your pocket and making your way to the driver’s side door.

You opened the door, fully intending to climb in and drive off on your own, but Rafe appeared quickly by your side, closing the door before you could climb in.

“Woah, woah, wait,” he said, his arm out next to your head to hold the door closed.

You scoffed at his boldness and stepped back, “uhm excuse me!”

“You’re excused,” he smirked down at you. “How am I gonna get home?”

“Greyhound station is that way,” you pointed over your shoulder, trying to push him out of the way of your door, but he was too sturdy to be moved. He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms, planting himself.

“I’d rather ride with you,” he flashed you a devilish grin you just knew he was used to throwing around like currency.

“Dude, can you just let me into my car?” You shut him down.

“What’s the magic word?” God, did this guy have a punchable face.

“Please,” you reluctantly let out through gritted teeth.

“Hmm, no,” he turned it back on you, planting his feet firmly on the ground, both of you knowing there was no way you were gonna be able to overpower his large frame.

“Okay seriously? I know you’re used to using your body to get what you want, but it’s not gonna work this time,” you were done fucking around, an invisible clock ticking in your mind while your trip was delayed even further by this jackass. “Get away from my car.”

“I will when you agree to give me a ride,” his lips twisted and his voice dropped, aimed down at you, “or we can keep standing here and talking about my body.”

You couldn’t help but blush, and he couldn’t help but like it. The embarrassment at the involuntary response only fueled your anger.

“Why would I do that? I don’t even know you,” it wasn’t entirely true, you knew more than you cared to know about him. Or at least, in this moment, you thought you did.

“Brody said you owe him a favor right? Do it for him,” he suggested.

“If he wanted to cash in on his favor, he should’ve been here himself.”

“Okay then, what if I paid for gas? What was Brody gonna do, go 50/50 with you? I’ll cover the whole trip,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick leather wallet, opening it to flash you his black card. 

You couldn’t help but also notice the polaroids tucked in the see-through pockets. On one side, what appeared to be a family photo; Rafe, an older man and two young girls smiling on a giant boat. On the other side, some sorority girls in bikinis, flashing the camera at a charity car wash. Who the fuck was this guy? 

“Brody was also gonna take you the rest of the way to the Outer Banks. I’m going west and there’s no way I’m getting on a ferry, how are you gonna get home?” You reasoned, though he could hear in your tone that you were starting to actually consider saying yes. 

Time to bring it home, he thought.

“I’ll figure it out. Just get me to the ferry and I’ll be fine. I’ll be eternally grateful, I’ll owe you a big favor. And I never do people favors.”

“The more you talk, the less I want to be stuck in a car with you for eight hours,” you said. 

Dammit, his plan backfired. But he hadn’t missed the way you eyed the picture of him with his dad, Sarah and Wheezie in his wallet. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

“Please? All flights are sold out and I’d really like to see my little sisters for Christmas,” he blinked his wide blue eyes, mustering up all the sincerity he could find.

Family was your weak spot, you wondered if Brody had told him that. As much as you truly did not want to get in this cramped, two-door car with him, you felt bad picturing the two little girls waiting patiently for their big brother to come home for Christmas. Ugh.

With a deep sigh, you finally said, “fine.” 

Rafe slapped his hand on the car’s roof in celebration, reveling in his victory as he finally stepped away from your door.

“I’ll get you to the ferry and that’s it,” you qualified, trying to dampen his enthusiasm. “I need to be home by six, if I’m late you’re gonna owe me a lot more than a favor.”

He crossed his fingers over his heart solemnly, “scout’s honor!”

“You can throw your stuff in the backseat,” you instructed, your trunk already full to the brim with presents for your family.

“What, you got too much junk in your trunk?” He chuckled at his own joke as he jogged around to the passenger’s side.

You rolled your eyes hard as you climbed in the driver’s seat. This was gonna be the longest eight hours of your life.

Hour two

The heat in your car was cranked at full blast, but you were still shivering as you drove. This car was a hand-me-down from your dad, it got you back and forth to school, but left plenty to be desired in the way of amenities.

Based on the designer watch he was wearing and his Gatsby-esque reputation, you were pretty confident this was the least fancy car Rafe had ever been in.

“Sorry about the rattling,” you said, needlessly gesturing toward the dash, which shook steadily with the hum of the engine. “She’s a good car, but she’s got creaky bones.”

“It’s cool,” he shrugged, pulling a pack of gum out of his coat pocket.

“I’m sure the G-wagons you’re used to don’t shake when you accelerate.”

Rafe popped a piece of gum in his mouth, snapping it obnoxiously between his teeth as he looked over at you, head cocked in observation.

“You don’t like me,” he surmised simply.

Your mouth fell open slightly, startled by how directly he clocked you, “I- I barely know you.”

“Then why do you roll your eyes everytime I open my mouth?”

“Maybe I just don’t like what you have to say.”

His eyes narrowed, considering this for a moment before deciding, “nah, I think it’s something else. Did we have a class together or something?”

“No, just a couple mutual friends,” you smiled the fakest of smiles.

“Yeah? Like who?”

“Girls you’ve ghosted mainly,” you said.

“Whaaat, me? Ghost someone? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he smirked.

“Yeah right,” you shook your head with an incredulous laugh that only widened his grin. “You know exactly what I mean, you ghost them and then you gaslight them that you were never a thing to begin with. We call it the Rafe Cameron special.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’ve never done that,” he said.

“That’s such bullshit, this girl in my hall freshman year showed me all your texts, you totally gaslit her.” 

“Gaslit? Me? You’re crazy…” he said.

You almost took the bait, mouth opened indignantly to argue again before you finally caught onto his game and the growing prideful smirk on his face. He was fucking with you.

You turned the music up, blocking him out as he chuckled under his breath in the seat next to you, ever so pleased with himself.

“Oh, c’mon, lighten up,” he tilted his body toward you, his long legs cramped in the small space of your front seat. 

He placed his hand on the back of your headrest, his arm easily reaching the distance between you. 

“It’s college, it’s not that serious. Everybody’s hooking up and breaking up. I mean, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of flings,” his eyes ran up and down your body with that final remark.

You stumbled over your response. You weren’t necessarily a shy person, but you didn’t walk around discussing your personal life as openly as he apparently does. 

“I…can you stop looking at me like that please?”

“Looking at you like what?” He grinned, feigning innocence.

“Like you know me at all.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” he nodded. “Though I think I’ve pretty much figured you out.”

“Oh have you?” Your eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, I mean, I have my guesses at least…”

“Please, share with the class,” you turned the radio down to better hear his absurdity, sure that he was full of shit.

“You were top of your class in high school, graduating with a…3.97 GPA,” he began. “You got in automatic acceptance to a bunch of state schools but you insisted on going to your reach, which thrilled your parents I’m sure. College isn’t as easy as high school, but you’ve settled around an A minus average final grade. You’re not in a sorority, I would’ve seen you at a mixer, but you’re definitely in some organized groups. Not sports, that’s not practical enough, it’s gotta be something where you can do some networking. Brody said you’re what, pre-med? So you’re probably in some kind of medical honors society. I bet you’ve had only one serious boyfriend, maybe a long distance high school sweetheart, but you’re too focused on school to make that work so you dumped his ass. A few hook ups since then, but nothing real. How am I doing?”

Your eyes were glued to the road, face gone ashen as he continued to nail correct guess after correct guess.

“My high school GPA was 3.98 actually,” you said weakly. “And I don’t like this game.”

Rafe had never been more smug, beaming triumphantly at your confirmation of all his assumptions.

“Don’t worry, I’m done playing,” he leaned forward to take off his coat, balling it up to use as a pillow so he could lean his head on the window. “Wake me up when at the next scheduled stop, will ya?”

“No promises,” you grumbled, making him smile as he drifted off to sleep.

Hour three

Bright red brake lights glowed in a line stretched out in front of you for a mile. You sighed deeply, your foot sore from holding down the brake for a full ten minutes. Resigned, you finally gave in and put the car in park, eyeing the clock on the dash anxiously.

Rafe snored. Loudly.

You shot him a bitter glare as he sat passed out in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the stop-and-go traffic jam you had gotten stuck in, enjoying his free ride and interrupting your music with his loud snores. Out of spite, you leaned forward and turned up the radio until your music was practically blaring through the speakers.

Somehow, like even in his sleep he knew how to push your buttons, he started snoring louder. You turned the music up as high as it would go, singing along at the top of your lungs until he finally started stirring, eyes blinking open. You quickly turned down the music, stifling a laugh at the confused, grumpy look on his face.

“We’re not moving,” he mumbled, groggily taking in your surroundings.

“You have great observational skills,” you teased him.

“You didn’t think to account for traffic on your little itinerary?” He said smugly.

“I did,” you defended yourself, “just not until we passed through DC. This part of I-95 isn’t usually so packed.”

Rafe sat up in his seat, not having much room to stretch out his legs but trying anyway. He watched the way you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, nervously tapping your hands on the steering wheel.

“So what’s happening at six o’clock?” He asked, trying to pull you from your anxious thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Before we left, you said you had to be home at six. What’s at six?” 

“Oh, uh, it’s kind of silly actually, you wouldn’t get it,” you sat back in your seat, finally accepting that the car in front of you wasn’t moving anytime soon.

“Try me,” he said.

You looked at him, trying to decide if you wanted to share and risk his getting his rude opinion on something so special to you. But you were hungry, and tired, and stressed, and honestly, after a few too many hours in his charismatic orbit, you were looking for more reasons not to like him.

“It’s because of cookies,” you admitted.

“Cookies?” He cocked his eyebrow, trying to maintain his non-judgemental stance.

“My mom makes these gingerbread cookies that are literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted. They’re so good, she makes them every christmas, but she only makes one batch. It’s an old family recipe her mom left her when she passed away and my mom said she isn’t supposed to give it to me until she’s…gone…”

You paused to swallow hard, like there were more words fighting their way out. Feeling a little too vulnerable with Rafe’s eyes on you, you pushed them back down. 

“…anyway, I have three younger brothers, and they get home from their practices at six. The second they walk in the door, they’ll attack those cookies and there won��t be any left for me. So I need to get home before them or I’ll have to wait a whole year for more cookies.”

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he decided whether or not he was gonna tease you.

Finally he landed on, “gingerbread, really? They can’t possibly be that good.”

“Oh no, believe me they really are. I’m not usually into gingerbread either but these are seriously the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up, smirking at you from his side of the car. It took a second for you to hear your own double entenadre. 

“Oh shut up,” you laughed, reaching over to swat his arm.

“I didn’t say anything!” He pretended to wince, rubbing the spot on his arm you’d hit dramatically. You flexed your hand, surprised that it stung a little, his arm firmer than you were expecting. 

“You question the cookies and then you mock me,” you shook your head. “I should make you get out and walk the rest of the way.”

“No, no!” He chuckled. “I would never question the cookies. I’m sure they’re delicious. Don’t make me walk.”

You zeroed your eyes in on him, “fine. You're safe. For now.”

He wiped his forehead playfully, mouthing a silent ‘phew!’

After a few minutes, traffic started moving again, though painfully slowly. Rafe was drumming along to the radio on the dashboard, growing more impatient by the second. His fidgeting reminded you of a bored toddler.

“Why can’t you mom just make more cookies?” He blurted out.

Your grip tightened on the wheel as sudden brake lights ahead of you forced you to slam on your own brake yet again. This was the direction you were hoping the conversation wouldn’t head in.

“She, uh…she just makes the one batch,” you tried to shrug the question off, but he was too busy tapping away and shifting in his seat to notice your growing discomfort.

“I mean how long can it take? A couple hours maybe? I bet she could just -”

“She just can’t, okay?” You snapped, your growing irritation with the traffic jam making the words come out a little sharper than you’d intended. You took a deep breath when his eyes snapped toward you, “sorry. She just…she can only make one.”

Rafe nodded, his bottom lip sticking out as he returned his attention to his phone, typing rapidly.

“Alright then, take the next exit,” he said.

“What?”

“In a half mile on the right, take that exit,” he repeated.

“Why?” you asked.

“I found a faster route,” he explained. “Let’s get you those cookies.”

Hour four

Rafe was right, the alternate route he found for you had caught you up to schedule, even putting you about twenty miles ahead of where you expected to be by this point.

With the made up time, Rafe finally convinced you to stop for food, and, after several minutes of arguing, to let him drive the next stretch.

It was amazing how much your mood improved with some food in your system. Now that you weren’t the one behind the wheel, it was you shuffling restlessly in the seat, unfolding and refolding your schedule and refreshing the GPS on your phone every couple of minutes. 

“In one hundred and twenty two miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and twenty miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and nineteen miles-“

“Veer left! It’s gonna keep saying the same thing every time, you really don’t need to keep refreshing it,” Rafe grunted.

You shot him a glare, making a show of turning your phone off and tucking it in your pocket. 

“Remind me why you couldn’t just drive yourself?” You snarled. “What, is the Beamer in the shop?”

“It’s a Range Rover, actually,” he corrected you, pulling forth yet another eye roll from you as you mumbled ‘of course it is.’ “And yes, actually, it is.”

“Ah, you pimping your ride?”

He snorted, “what is it 2005? No, I, uh, totaled it, actually.”

“I knew I shouldn’t let you drive,” you winced, grabbing the handle above the passenger door theatrically.

“Relax, it wasn’t my fault,” he assured you.

“Let me guess, the other driver was so blinded by your dazzling smile that they crashed right into you?” 

“There was no other driver,” he said, smirking with a sidelong glance in your direction. “Glad to know you think my smile is that powerful though.”

You regretted your word choice immediately, your brain was working so fast to deflect his charm you had lost the plot a bit. You scrambled to put the focus back on him so he wouldn’t see the way you were blushing.

“Okay so what’s the story then?” You asked.

“It’s really not that interesting. I was driving around campus and there was something in the street, I swerved and hit a tree, that’s it,” he reached to turn the radio a little louder, your eyes narrowing at the avoidant tone he’d adopted.

“You saw ‘something?’ What ‘something’ did you see?” You pressed, amused by his discomfort.

“Just, uhm, an animal in the road,” he said dismissively.

You nodded, a little “ah” leaving your lips as you returned your gaze to the window. You tapped your fingers on your thigh to the beat of the song. You wanted to know more, he knew you wanted to know more. The tension broke quick.

“What kind of animal was -”

“Ohhh my god, you’re so nosy, it was-“ he cut himself off momentarily to lower his voice, “it was a bunny alright?”

Your laugh was immediate and loud, head falling back at the image he’d conjured for you.

“Alright, it’s not that funny but whatever,” he rolled his eyes, unable to suppress the little curve of his lips at the pretty sound of your unguarded giggles. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you said between laughs, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, “it’s not funny. It’s nice. You crashed your Range Rover trying to save a little rabbit. I just didn’t expect Rafe Cameron to break for bunnies, it’s very cute.”

Rafe never got flustered, he practically majored in flirting, it never phased him. So why the fuck was he blushing like a little kid right now?

Get your shit together, Cameron, he thought, she’s just some girl.

“So you and Brody, y’all sleeping together or...?”

Your laughter stopped dead in its tracks, head snapping towards him as your jaw slammed shut.

Pointedly not answering him, you grabbed your Coke from the cupholder and took a long sip.

“Is that a yes?” he continued. 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you cut him off, fiddling with the straw, “but no, we’re just old friends.”

Long gone was the playful air of the bunny story. Unable to recover and get a positive reaction from you, he figured he might as well dig himself deeper. In for a penny…

“But, c’mon, you’re saying you two have seriously never…”

“Ew no, he’s literally like my brother,” you shut him down. “Why do you care so much? You jealous?”

Fuck, he hadn’t meant to give you the upper ground, he needed to level the field. 

“You just seemed pretty upset when you found out he wasn’t coming is all. Like, I dunno, a woman scorned and all that…”

“Have you considered it’s because I realized I was gonna be stuck in a car alone with you for eight hours?”

Thoroughly pissed off, you sank down in your seat and continued sipping your Coke, avoiding looking at him by counting the mile markers on the side of the highway. 

Rafe looked over at you, taking in the flex of your jaw as you stewed. He usually didn’t give a fuck if his words offended people. He preferred it, actually. But something about the shape of your smile and the sound of your laughter made him wish you were always happy. He felt like shit for making it go away, then he felt like shit for feeling like shit given his decision not to like you.

His eyes stayed on you for longer than they should, studying the shape of your silhouette in the soft light of the December sun. 

“Watch out!” You shrieked suddenly.

Rafe’s eyes shot forward and he realized with panic that he’d been veering off the road, the front of the car dangerously skewed in the direction of the metal guard rail. 

“Fuck!” 

He cut the wheel hard, overshooting his correction and causing the car to jerk sharply to the left. In your concern, you gripped your drink so hard the lid came off, your ice cold diet coke splashing out of the cup and all over you.

Rafe redirected the car until it was back in the correct lane, but you were already covered in diet soda. Coke dripped from your hair onto your face, your mouth hung wide open in shock and fury.

“Shit, my bad,” Rafe said, reaching in the fast food bag for some napkins.

He started dabbing it completely unhelpfully at your shoulder and you ripped the napkin from his hands.

“This is my favorite shirt, ugh what the fuck Rafe!” You scolded him, trying to use the napkins with very little luck, the shirt was definitely ruined.

“I said I’m sorry! Jesus calm down, it’s not like I did it on purpose,” he huffed at you, hating that he liked how you said his name, even when you were yelling at him.

“No of course not, you never do anything on purpose,” you quipped.

It took everything in him not to snap back with a “you don’t even fucking know me,” but he remained silent. Biting his tongue was a new taste to him, he didn’t like it, but he didn’t like the feeling of you being pissed at him either. Today was a day of firsts.

“We’re gonna have to stop so I can get a new shirt from the trunk,” you said.

Eager to return to familiar territory, he jumped at the opportunity to antagonize you, shaking his head and tsking condescendingly, “no can do, there’s no stops on the schedule for an hour.”

“Okay well this is obviously an extenuating circumstance,” you argued.

“So was me wanting to stop at that outlet mall to get presents for my family, but we didn’t stop then,” he countered.

“Right, because those things are comparable,” you scoffed. “It’s not my fault you waited until the last second to do your Christmas shopping.”

You were right, but he still resented the know-it-all tone in your accusation.

“Well I’m the driver and I say we’re sticking to the schedule,” he doubled down.

“So I’m just supposed to sit here covered in soft drink for the rest of the trip?”

“I have an old sweatshirt in my bag you can borrow,” he offered.

The urge to continue fighting with him until he agreed to pull over was strong, but the urge to get out of the cold, sticky shirt was stronger. With a sigh, you climbed into the backseat and dug through Rafe’s bag until you found a soft, worn out hoodie with a logo on the front that said “Kildare Academy Lacrosse” and on the back “Cameron #44.”

You reached down to peel off your shirt, looking up first to catch Rafe watching you through the rear view mirror. Your hands paused on the hem, giving him a steely look.

“Uh, a little privacy please?” 

His eyes continued flicking between you and the road, “I just wanna see if you found the right sweatshirt,” he claimed.

You let out an indignant tsk, mouth open in disbelief when he gave you a little wink through the mirror. You reached forward and smushed your hand into his cheek, pushing his head back toward the road. He bit his bottom lip, trying to play nonchalant as you stripped off your shirt just inches behind him. He might act like a playboy, but he did actually have enough respect not to look at you while you changed.

Still, keeping his eyes on the road meant seeing the fuzzy form of you in his peripheral vision. The general hue of your skin tone and the swift movement of you pulling your shirt over your head sucked some of the air from his usually puffed-out chest. He felt like he was twelve years old, the way just the thought of you shirtless in the backseat made his hands clammy and his heart pick up speed. He needed to get a grip.

The sweatshirt was about two sizes too big but so warm and comfortable you didn’t care. You expected it to smell like some cheap cologne or boy sweat, but instead it smelled like something sweet and inviting - fabric softener, you realized with a grin. You’d tease him for that later.

Hour five

Somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere Virginia, your gas light came on. You agreed to let him drive for another fifty miles after a quick gas station pit stop, planning to take the allotted thirty minute nap you’d mapped out on your schedule before driving the rest of the way.

Rafe paid for the gas, as promised, and stood by the car as he filled your tank. You never did get to finish your Diet Coke, so you ran inside to grab another while he pumped.

“That’ll be $2.79, dear,” the cashier told you, her southern accent and charm a tell-tale sign that you were nearing home.

With a smile, you pulled out your debit card and held it out for her to swipe.

“Sorry sweetheart, there’s a five dollar minimum for cards,” she informed you politely.

“Oh, okay,” you looked around the counter for something to add, swiping some knick-knacks from their display to round up your bill.

----❄----

The car door slammed as Rafe climbed back in next to you, balling up the receipt for the gas and tossing it into the backseat.

“How much was it?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged, turning the key as the engine sputtered to life. 

You shouldn’t feel bad, he offered to pay, and you were technically the one doing him a favor. Still, you were raised by blue collar parents, ‘neither a borrower nor a lender be’ and elbow grease was gospel in your home. You felt like you needed to give him something.

“Here,” you passed him the bag of trinkets you’d bought inside.

Rafe looked in the bag with a confused grin.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” He laughed as he pulled the items out of the bag.

“You could…give them to your sisters,” you suggested.

“What are they gonna do with a Thomas Jefferson snow globe and a bumper sticker that says ‘Virginia is for Lovers’?”

“Well it’s better than a slip of paper that says ‘IOU one christmas present,’” You teased him.

“Y’know what? Very true,” he nodded, tucking the bag of goodies in the backseat and pulling out of the gas station. 

The drive was silent for a few minutes. You leaned forward, resting your arms on the dash as you watched the emerging silhouette of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the far horizon. It was all getting so close; a crackling fire, drinking hot cocoa while watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas with your brothers, decorating the tree, those gingerbread cookies…

“What are you smiling about?” Rafe’s voice interrupted your revelry.

“I’m just excited to get home and see my family,” you said with a happy smile. “Aren’t you?”

It was such a foreign concept to him he almost laughed. He was still playing the angle that he was desperate to get home to his family so you’d give him a ride. He couldn’t tell you the truth; that he wasn’t sure anyone at his house even remembered he was coming, that Christmases in the Cameron house for the last decade were more about the pictures his father could put on the cards he sent to clients than they were about celebrating, or love. 

“Uh, yeah, ‘course,” he said, hoping you’d drop it. 

You didn’t.

“Does your family have any traditions?” 

“Like what?” He knew what you meant, but his brain wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a lie, the truth sitting on his chest in the uncomfortable way he spent his life trying to avoid.

“Like, okay,” you started. “Me and my brothers always sleep in the living room on Christmas Eve. We get all the pillows and blankets in the house and make a big pile in front of the fireplace and keep the fire going all night so we can stay up to try and catch Santa.” 

“How’s he gonna come down the chimney if you keep the fire going?” Rafe questioned logically.

“Oh Rafe, I’m so sorry I have to be the one to tell you this…but Santa isn’t real,” you placed your hand on his arm like you were trying to console him. 

He let it linger for a minute before shaking you off, “you know what I meant!” he grumbled, making you laugh. The sound was so sweet it made him dizzy.

“What else do you do?” He asked impulsively, surprising both you and himself with his desire to hear you keep talking.

“Well, you know about my mom’s cookies, and we always drink cocoa with peppermint sticks, and oh! Me and my dad used to cut down a real tree together the day after Thanksgiving- I’m sure they’ve already gotten it this year since I wasn’t home- but we’d always decorate it together, just the two of us, while listening to his old Bing Crosby vinyl.”

It sounded so nice, so idyllic and comforting, like a Hallmark card. Jealousy roared in his chest, hoping you couldn’t see it on his face as he pictured the much colder, tension filled holiday that was awaiting him.

“Didn’t Bing Crosby used to hit his kids?” He blurted out coldly, the holly jolly joy in the car becoming a little too much for him to handle.

Your face soured, lips twisted as he burst your bubble. 

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,” you mumbled. Even when he was being an ass, you were being cute. It was killing him. “Not a Christmas guy, huh?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be napping right now?” He brushed off your question.

“I don’t know, maybe you shouldn’t drive so grumpy.”

“I’ll be fine. Your thirty minutes is slipping away, though.”

“Okay fine, but don’t forget to wake me up when we cross the state line,” you reminded him.

“I know, I know. Are you always this bossy?” He snipped, his sudden coldness making you wish you’d never opened up to him about your family to begin with.

With a final, pointed look at him, you pulled the strings of his sweatshirt to cover your eyes and sank down into the seat. 

“Bah humbug,” you threw at him before drifting off to sleep.

Almost immediately, he missed the sound of your voice. 

Hour six

In your dream, you sat alone at your kitchen table, your dad’s Bing Crosby vinyl skipped on the record player as you cried over an empty plate, not a single crumb of gingerbread left…

Hour seven

The world was moving outside the windows, the early darkness of winter making the scene blurry, but you could tell the car was definitely still moving.

And Rafe was out cold in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my god!!” 

You shot up in your seat and grabbed the wheel, sure that you were about to go flying off the road any second. But the wheel was locked, and there was no engine’s rumble shaking the dash. The car was off. 

You blinked, your groggy mind finally catching up with reality. You weren’t driving, you were floating. The choppy ocean crashing against the side of the ship spraying little droplets of water on your windshield.

“Oh my god,” you repeated with a groan, this time less panicked and more pissed.

Rafe woke up with your body stretched across his lap, gripping the wheel as you groaned.

“Hi,” he mumbled with a sleepy smile, completely misreading the situation.

You sat back in your own seat and hit him on the shoulder, hard. 

“Oww, what the hell?” He sat up, rubbing his arm.

“Where the fuck are we?” You barked at him.

“We’re in your car on the way home,” he avoided the true answer. 

“I said I’d get you to the ferry…”

“And would ya look at that? You did!” He smiled sheepishly.

With scarily accurate comedic timing, the ship’s horn blared loudly, leaving no doubt.

“Rafe, we’re on the ferry!” You yelled, smacking him again.

“Would you stop hitting me please?! We were making good time and you looked so peaceful sleeping so I figured we’d just hop the ferry real quick and you’ll still make it home by six.”

You checked the time on your phone, eyes widening with realization.

“Just barely! At this rate I’ll be walking in the door at 5:58,” you argued.

“And just think of how many cookies you can eat in two minutes if you really put your mind to it,” he grinned at you. You were having none of his boyish charm this time, back to being a card carrying member of the “I Hate Rafe Cameron” club.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you mumbled.

“Okay, well can it wait until we’re on dry land? I get seasick and I want it to be a fair fight.”

He wasn’t letting up on the flirting, and you weren’t giving in. The rest of the boat ride was painfully quiet.

----❄----

“It’s just up here on the right, that metal gate,” he assured you as he approached his home, still trying to convince you that you had plenty of time.

Headlights bounced off the high white walls of his estate as the car pulled up. Your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“What is it?” He questioned.

“I knew you were probably rich, y’know based on your whole…” you gestured vaguely to him, “...thing. But holy shit.”

He grinned, “yeah it’s alright I guess.”

“Oh whatever,” you laughed. “It’s like a fucking castle!”

With a final left turn, he pulled into Tannyhill, the giant house completely dark at the end of the long drive. Rafe’s face fell slightly as he drove up, but he pushed the disappointment down when he felt your eyes on him.

“Home sweet home,” he said, feigning holiday cheer.

He put the car in park and grabbed his stuff from the backseat. You both got out, stopping in front of the car so he could hand you the keys.

“I should change so you can have your sweatshirt back,” you said.

“Nah you can give it back to me at school, I’ve delayed your schedule long enough.”

You smiled softly, giving him a grateful nod.

It was strange, you felt like you’d known him much longer than eight hours and yet you weren’t quite friends…you weren’t enemies either, but definitely not friends. How is one supposed to say goodbye to a non-enemy/non-friend? You settled on holding out your hand to shake. Rafe just looked down at your palm, huffing a laugh at the gesture.

“Well,” you shrugged, smiling back, “Merry Christmas I guess?”

He took your hand, giving it a firm shake and a squeeze, “yeah, Merry Christmas I guess.”

With a nod, you stepped around him and got back into your car, pulling up your GPS and entering your home address. So long as the ferry was still running on schedule and there wasn’t too much traffic, you’d get home with about five minutes to spare.

You put the car in reverse and got ready to back out of the driveway. You tried to keep your eyes fixed on the rearview, but you couldn’t help but steal one last look at Rafe as he walked through his front door.

Only, he wasn’t going inside. Or maybe he couldn’t go inside? He stood at the front door shaking the handle and having a very animated conversation with someone on his phone. Something wasn’t right.

Even though you knew you shouldn’t, you cracked your window slightly to hear the phone call. His back still turned to you, Rafe didn’t notice you could hear him and kept talking, loudly…

“The Bahamas? Are you kidding me?...I can’t believe you guys just left without me...well I wasn’t and then I got a ride…this could’ve been avoided if you’d just sent the jet like I asked…since when are you concerned about that?...well what the hell am I supposed to do now?!” 

The last question was said with a raised voice, aggression seeping into his tone. He made like he was about to say something else, but was cut-off, his shoulders falling as the voice on the other end got so loud that it carried all the way to your car. You couldn’t make out the words, but whoever he was talking to was clearly shouting even louder than Rafe had just been.

“Y-yes sir…I’m sorry…yes sir…no sir…okay I will…I lo-”

The phone beeped three times and the screen went black. Rafe stared down at it for a second before slipping it in his pocket and lifting a rock close to the door, retrieving a small silver key. As he raised it to the doorknob, his eyes caught yours in the reflection of the glass.

“You should get going,” he said, turning and noticing your window cracked. “You’re gonna miss your cookies.”

Fully busted for eavesdropping, you rolled the window the rest of the way down, “did they…are they not home?”

“Nah, they decided to spend Christmas in the Bahamas,” he explained.

“Oh. So you’re just gonna be here, like, alone?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not a Christmas guy anyway, remember?” He gave you a tight lipped smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Are-are you sure? You could…” You couldn’t quite bring yourself to say it. Were you really gonna offer for him to come home with you? You barely knew him, surely you couldn’t bring him home for Christmas. 

The offer fell dead on your lips, but Rafe knew where you were going with it, the pity in your voice a little too much for his pride.

“I’m really fine,” he said, nodding his head toward the road, “you should get back on the road. You’ve got a schedule to keep”

You gave him a soft smile as you put the car back into reverse, feeling guilty the whole way out of the driveway.

----❄----

Turning the Christmas radio station up, you tried to focus on gingerbread cookies as you waited in the long car line to get back on the ferry. 

He wasn’t your friend, in fact, he was kind of an asshole to you all day. You didn’t owe him anything. Plus, he surely wouldn’t be comfortable at your little house in the country. Not when he was used to all the flash of this island, the one his family seemingly owned based on all the signs with their name on it you passed on your short drive. No, he’d be fine. You’d get your cookies and he’d be fine.

“Ma’am,” the Ferry ticketing attendant tapped on your window to get your attention. 

You sighed deeply as you looked at the big ship, then down to your GPS, telling you there was only a minute to spare if you were gonna get home on time. 

Home. Yours, warm and full of love. His, empty and dark.

“We’ve got a schedule to keep,” the attendant urged. “Are you boarding or not?”

----❄----

The house was still dark but for one light glowing through an upstairs window.

You knocked three times, Rafe’s confused face finally appearing behind the glass. He opened the door with a questioning furrow of his brow. His bag was still packed, sitting right inside the door. You reached down to grab it, throwing it over your shoulder as you said, 

“You owe me a cookie.”

(part two)

a/n: merry everything! I had so much fun writing this! There will be 3 more parts, just a lil present from me to you <3 there will be some hurt, but mostly comfort and a stocking full of fluff!

for updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs. to be tagged, just ask in the replies or send me an ask!

taglist: @itneverendshere @rafediaries @promiscuousg1rl @eolsens @inlovewrafe

[sttoru]

fav concubine trying to top but sukuna is... sukuna so he fucks her full nelson <3

𝝑𝑒 SYNOPSIS. trying to show lord sukuna that you can indeed be on top of him in bed ends up backfiring almost immediately & results in you nearly passing out.

wc. 1.2k

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut, pwp. size difference. full nelson position. degredation. objectification. mention of (almost) passing out. reader gets called ‘doll, little girl, woman.’ beta read? nope

“i can do it, my lord,” you huff stubbornly. you don’t know where you got the courage from to be so assertive tonight. maybe it’s because of sukuna’s earlier words—those mocking words that he uttered to get a rise out of you. or to see you scared, perhaps.

‘y’re gonna need to do a lot more to keep me entertained, doll. gonna get bored of ya if y’ don’t.’

the sentences repeat in your head like a never ending chant. on one hand, you know sukuna was simply trying to play with your emotions, but on the other hand, you’re afraid that there might be some truth to his words. so, you take up the challenge.

“y’ can’t do shit, little girl,” sukuna rolls his eyes as he sees you climb onto his lap. his thick thighs are spread, his broad back against the headboard of the bed.

he doesn’t even try helping you like he usually does, with his hands guiding your hips. if you’re stubborn enough to try and be on top of the king of curses out of all people, you’re going to get minimal help.

“yes i can,” you mumble with a sense of uncertainty in your voice. you’ve never really done any of this. you’re usually on the receiving end, having sukuna easily move and bend your body however he sees fit. you’ve never imagined being in his place, “just watch me, my lord.”

you’re desperate to please him. you’re scared to lose your position as his favorite. you let the words get to your head—just like sukuna expected. the fact that you’re so gullible makes him stifle a condescending laugh.

“all ‘m seeing is you struggling to ride me,” the tall man clicks his tongue and his eyes lazily watch your attempts to sink down on his two, hard and dripping cocks. the contact his leaking tips makes with your cunt is enough to make sukuna grunt.

he’s trying hard to not slam you down on him fully. he’s used to take control—too used to it. seeing you struggle to even start is making him impatient.

“i-i’ll get it eventually, my lord,” you hiccup, nervous because of the fact that you’re on top of such a huge man. he’s staring at you menacingly, all his arms crossed over his chest. your hips tremble as you slide one of his cocks into your warm pussy, both of you hissing at the direct contact.

you try to fit the other in the same hole, but you simply cannot handle it at the moment. his upper dick slips right out and bumps against your clit instead. you clumsily fumble with the same one, trying to make place for it in your cunt.

sukuna can’t hold it in anymore. having you clamping down on one of his massive cocks, his girth stretching your small canal to fit all of it to the base and your face contorting in both discomfort and pleasure is making him lose it. “this isn’t gonna work. need to fuck you properly, doll.”

you’re not even one minute in and he’s yanked your small body off his lap, forcefully turning you around until your back is pressed against his chest and your head is rolled back to rest near his shoulder. sukuna’s upper hands hold your legs up by the back of your knees. his bottom set of hands wrap around his cocks and pushes one through your sensitive cunt whilst he fists the other.

“fff— mhhh! my lord! nonono,” you tear up. partially because the sudden intrusion hurts your insides and the stretch is unexpected, but mainly because you’re scared that sukuna’s angry with you. you don’t wish to lose his interest in you, “i’m sorry, let me try again.”

the king of curses slaps your clitoris harshly after that comment of yours. “that a demand? foolish woman,” he scoffs and his hips thrust upwards against the fat of your ass. squelchy noises fill the chambers and spill outside of the room—it’s loud. the bed creaking is unmissable as well with how fast he’s pounding you.

sukuna bites into your shoulder and holds back his grunts like that. he’s relentless, drilling into your cunt so hard that you’re getting numb. your body is limp in his beefy arms and your rationality leaves your mind. you’re more than overwhelmed.

“sorry, ‘m sorry,” you whine and try to babble about something, but it’s all incoherent. you’re feeling lightheaded due to how much you’re taking of him. it feels amazing, soul ascending, but your emotions are in the way. even when you try not to show any attachment to the man you swore not to like.

sukuna ignores your pleas. his focus is on your slutty cunt swallowing every inch of his lower dick like its nothing. you’re used to it—he’s made you used to it—and somehow you’re still as tight as the first time. that and your submission to him is exciting. your adorable noises. the form of your body as it fits perfectly against his like you’re made for him.

you are made for him. your purpose is to please him, submit to him and give him what he deserves. that’s why he keeps you around.

“stop y’r whining,” sukuna grumbles. your knees are forced up against your ears and your tits are bouncing with each harsh thrust. “y’r a dumb fucking thing,” the king of curses presses down on the bottom of your stomach, increasing the pleasure for you, whilst also pleasing himself by knowing how deep you’re taking him, “do you think ‘m actually going to let you go?”

your eyes widen as sukuna picks up on your internal worries. you know there’s no hiding your feelings from him, even if you don’t talk about them to him. it’s like he can sense them. or see right through you with those piercing red eyes that leave you shivering for days.

“y’re too delicious to let go of. i don’t intend on letting anyone else get a taste of this pussy,” sukuna smirks and his tongue rolls out to lick your left ear. you gasp at the feeling and moan right after. you don’t try being quiet. you don’t care if anyone hears you. the reassurance was all you needed.

everyone around the estate knows you’re getting your guts rearranged by the same lord they serve. it’s the same routine every day.

“y’re mine,” sukuna grumbles and speeds up his thrusts until you’re seeing stars. you’re not sure if you can hold out for much longer. you can already feel your orgasm building up—and judging by sukuna’s tight grip on your thighs—he’s close to emptying himself deep inside you as well.

you try your best to keep up with everything, but your human mind can only focus on so much at once. you mumble some words in agreement as your head tilts to the side, your vision turning blurry and fuzzy, “all yours, m’lord.”

sukuna grins mischievously. he’s completely won you over. he’s got you wrapped around his finger. you’re easy, even if you think you’re the complete opposite. the skilled curse knows just what to say to make you all putty in his hands.

you’re gullible. easily manipulated. a perfect target for his mockery and teasing. that’s why he always has fun with you—whether it’d be in bed or not. his comment earlier was just to mess with you.

and expected, you walked right into his trap. you’re his favorite. his favorite to play around with. his favorite human.

“all mine. only mine.”

[blkkizzat]

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟸........... THE SORCERER KILLER ......filed under the that's not my jjk man series

visitor log: an extra toji fushiguro should be double the trouble and double the fun but neither likes to share, you know for sure which ones your toji—but do you really even care?

classifications: bratty!reader, brat taming, breeding, baby trapping, hair pulling, spit play + creampies, jealousy, grump!toji, daddy kink

incidents: 4.8k

*bam-bam*

Your favorite playlist pulses through the speakers as you occasionally stir the creamy mac and cheese simmering that’s almost ready for dinner, the rich aroma of melted cheddar and butter fills the kitchen.

Using the spatula as a microphone you’re filming a cute lil reel for all your IG followers. So absorbed in the tasks the unexpected knock at the door pulls you from your groove.

“Toji—Daddy, I’m still cooking. Can you get the door?”

Urgh, you’d have to edit this out.

*bam-bam*

“Baby, there’s someone at the door!”

*bam-bam*

“TOJI! ANSWER THE DAMN DOOR NOW!”

Irritated, you stop recording and storm out of the kitchen. 

To be honest you are already at your wits’ end as Toji had been gone all week and had promised to take you out tonight—quarantine be damned—after being stuck in the house for so long. However, he showed up much earlier than expected, looking like a stray dog who hadn’t seen shelter in days and grumbling about being hungry. 

He frankly didn’t look like he’d be in any condition to take you out later but you weren’t about to let him weasel out of this so easily. So you drew him a bath, sat him in front of the TV with some beers and were now cooking him food like the good little domesticated girlfriend you were proving to be—ensuring he had no excuse not to take you out tonight.

You wanted date night and new content to post after so long in isolation!

Stomping into the living room, ready to tell him off, you find Toji completely knocked out on the sofa, sound asleep snoring, with a UFC match playing on the TV.

“Ugh, you’re lucky you’re kinda cute when you sleep, old man…”

You shake your head, yet the pounding at the door interrupts your musings. 

*bam-bam-bam*

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming! Keep it in your pants.”

Rolling your eyes, you mumble the last part under your breath.

Wiping your hands on your apron, you peep through the window only to see that your impatient visitor was—huh?!

TOJI!? 

“Hey, been waitin’ out ‘ere forever doll, lower the barrier. C’mon, mamas.”

You freeze before slowly backing away from the door.

Fuck! A doppelgänger …? 

Or wait…surely your Toji is already inside, right?

RIGHT?!

Quietly, you creep back down the hall into the living room to find Toji still passed out on the couch. His head tilts back, mouth opened wide enough to catch flies as he continues to snore, legs sprawled out in a manspread. In one of Toji’s hands he holds a scratched-off lottery ticket (he won 2000 yen), while the other lazily scratches his balls in his sleep. 

Empty, crushed beer cans are scattered across your coffee table, while the crumbs from your brand new, yet now-demolished, bag of wasabi peas linger on his chest.

Yeah… *sighs* ...this was definitely your Toji alright. 

It also dawns on you that with his heavenly restriction, any barrier is pretty much nullified. 

Toji didn’t need you to lower it for him. He could waltz right in himself like it wasn’t there—like he’d done earlier too—completely surprising you as he didn’t even bother to knock or call ahead. 

Okay, well, yay—your first dopplegänger encounter and you correctly identified it. 

That was simple enough.

Now to actually deal with the doppelgänger  at your door was a different matter entirely. 

You sure as fuck weren’t letting them in. 

But you also weren’t so sure it would just go away on its own as they’ve been reported to be pretty persistent.

Tsk, should you wake Toji up then? 

You knew Toji to be a big grumpy ol’ man bear after a nap and you didn’t want to deal with that. Plus, you’d barely seen him all week with an increase in his contracts from Shiu due to the doppelgänger  appearances, it’s why he’s passed out so hard in the first place.

Toji would be even more disgruntled to see a doppelgänger  of himself of all people, effectively ruining the night you’ve been waiting all week for.

So you would just have to get rid of this fraud Toji yourself…somehow.

Easier said than done though as it’s not like you could kill the thing yourself, being the low grade sorcerer you are, especially if it mimicked Toji’s strength too.

You lightly chew your nail in contemplation, unsure of what to do exactly when you hear the knocking again, this time more urgent. 

*bam-bam-bam-bam-bam*

Shit at this rate the real Toji would wake up.

With a huff you return to the foyer. You were more quiet this time in your approach but the doppelgänger  curse senses you regardless as he speaks to you through the door. 

“C’mon on baby, I’m so sorry for not being around as much. Please lower the barrier, alrite? I’ll make it up t’ya mamas.”

Cautiously peeking out the window again you frown as doppelgänger Toji is still parked outside your door, clearly not going anywhere. The copy was pretty convincing too you have to admit, looking every bit as delectable as the real thing—maybe even a bit more—given the actual Toji’s current sloppy couch potato status.

BUT—’So sorry?!’  

Since when did Toji ever so willingly apologize for anything—and the ‘please’?! 

Yeah, please is right, as it’s something Toji would never say this easily—this creature was definitely not your Toji!

Even if you had been moved ever-so-slightly by the tinge of genuine contrition in its voice, this thing had Toji’s personality all wrong.

You had to admit it was a pretty good ploy though. 

The curse even sounded just like Toji and used similar lingo, it was almost flawless—but—the flaw it did have was huge. 

“Listen, I’m gonna level with you. It’s not worth it buddy, turn into someone else. He's sleeping now but he'll literally rip you apart if he wakes up and I don’t wanna deal with the ‘tude he’s gonna have after. It will ruin our whole date night and I never get date night!”

You harshly whispered through the door. 

Although, to be honest you were a little embarrassed you let that last part slip out like that. However your frustrations from the isolation were boiling over and this Toji looked just like the real one, you couldn’t help but take it out a little bit on them.

“Besides, I know for a fact you aren’t the real Toji.”

Pulling away from the window, you check the barrier again as you silently hope the doppelgänger  will just get the hint and leave. 

Standing in the foyer, you don’t hear anything for a minute and you think it might have actually left—although you wouldn’t know without looking again as the thing seemingly also mimicked heavenly restriction to a certain extent as you weren’t able to sense him either. However, thankfully the limitations of the fraud Toji appeared to be keeping it from freely passing through barriers apparently—one thing thankfully that could not be mimicked. 

“Ya know ma…I already know—that you know, that is. Tsk, wouldn't be hard to figure out, given his abilities alone.”

Toji’s smooth voice comes through the door. Well, not your Toji, Toji #2, the doppelgänger. 

You had a sassy remark ready to throw at him but the doppelgänger’s next words give you pause.

“But it wasn’t the abilities that gave me away, right? He doesn't apologize as much as he needs to, eh ma?” 

Silence.

“N’ ya really think y’er going out somewhere tonight, mamas? That old man ain’t waking up for a while.” 

You're not sure how exactly to respond to copycat Toji. 

Thoroughly stunned, you know his words ring true, yet they manage to sound just as condescending as the real Toji does sometimes when he's certain he's right.

Scoffing, you know you remaining quiet is an answer all on its own. 

“You know you don’t deserve that, mamas… You could do better. Someone who could actually be around more, eh?”

Spot-on in his assessment, doppelgänger Toji doesn’t need to see you chewing on your lip to know he has you hooked. You are too caught up in your own head, left isolated for too long to think rationally at the moment. 

However, had you taken the time to peek out of the side window again, you would have seen the self-satisfied smirk on the clone’s face knowing he had slightly hooked you.

“Don’t think of me as a copy mamas—consider me an upgrade.”

ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩

When Toji—the real Toji—finally wakes up, he’s practically ravenous. 

The wasabi peas did little to satisfy him, waiting for you to finish cooking your famous mac and cheese and drinking all that beer had amplified his hunger even more. 

Although overall, it had left him tired. He hadn’t been on this many jobs in literal years. Though he had turned down many contracts in the past out of disinterest or sheer laziness, the money these clowns were offering to eliminate wayward copies was pure insanity

Upwards of 150 million yen for some light-weight level one & two curses?

Toji would be a fool to turn down that easy money. 

And while certainly easy, the jobs had been tedious, feeling near endless. 

Nearly every bastard in Tokyo had a copy running around—if not multiple and after a week of non-stop work with barely any sleep, it finally caught up to Toji.

With a yawn more similar to a light roar, Toji looks around, cracking his stiff neck. He isn’t sure how much time has passed but he’s a little annoyed. Most of the lights are off and you are nowhere to be found, usually he’d hear you in the kitchen or you’d be curled up beside him, molded into his side body. 

His eyes briefly narrowing, Toji knows he was supposed to take you out tonight so you can finally get some air after being cooped up so long. But knowing how big a brat you could be, you’d better not have disobeyed him and gone outside yourself just because he’d overslept—it was still too dangerous.

Yet any remnants of sleep instantly dissipates when Toji hears your soft flirtatious laughter coming from the foyer. 

Rising up from his hibernation spot on your sofa and following the sound of your voice to the front of the house, Toji’s annoyance grows with every step. He can sense something’s off—his innate senses are screaming at him.

When Toji lays eyes on you he realizes there’s actually something that leaves him even more irritated than you speaking with your coworker, Gojo Satoru.

Much worse. 

You were talking, no—flirting with Toji’s own doppelgänger at that!

Not only had you made yourself comfortable, chatting with him through the screen door from a cozy chair while he sat on a stool he’d scooched over on the porch, but you’d even lowered the barrier long enough to give the lousy clone a plate of food—a plate Toji instantly recognized as the mac and cheese you were supposed to make for him.

You fed that fucker his food too?!

Toji’s patience dwindles rapidly as you fail to notice him right away—too deep in conversation, happily entertaining a version of Toji that, for once, actually listens to all the topics the real Toji dismisses as ‘girly shit.’ The clone lavishing praises of your dancing skills and how cute all your photos look as you show off your IG and TikTok. 

Even though you are genuinely clueless, it's apparent that his doppelgänger notices Toji. The subtle smirk and twitch of his clone's scarred lip mocks the real Toji as the doppelgänger leans into the barrier, trying to get closer to you. If Toji were the introspective type, he might have realized in that moment how insufferable he sometimes appeared to you, seeing as how much his own expression had just pissed him off—but the murderous intent boiling in his veins seared away any such thoughts.

“THE FUCK?!”

Hearing Toji’s roar starles you so bad you almost fall out of your chair. 

Snapping back to reality you had nearly forgotten you’d spent the last 3 hours or so chatting with DT—short Doppel Toji—as you dubbed him. Unlike your real block-headed oaf of a boyfriend you have, Doppel Toji was so easy to talk to—about anything! 

Wanting to learn more of human culture and customs, Doppel-Toji hung on to your every word as you explained the details of being a new breakout influencer and how hard it was seeing as the real Toji wanted you to block nearly every man who commented on any of your posts.  

“Oh, Toji, you’re finally up? It’s only been 3 hours and the restaurant is likely closing down by now!” 

You roll your eyes.

“Anyway while you were napping, Doppel-Toji, DT here, has been keeping me company.”

Doppel-Toji nodded in approval of the nickname, the same smarmy smirk on his face that the real Toji was itching to rip off.

You turn back to the real Toji, seemingly unaware of just how close he was to losing his entire shit. 

“Babe, these doppelgänger ’s aren’t that bad at all! Some, like DT here, just want to live normal lives as doubles! DT here wants to be a milkman, isn't that right?”

Doppel-Toji gives you a wide smile that reached into his eyes, one that creeped Toji out to see on his own face, especially as you were even smiling back at him foolishly not even realizing how the doppelgänger ’s gaze had since drifted onto your jiggly tits and then even lower to see how your dress had ridden damn near past your supple thighs. 

Wearing only your cute, thin, cotton-ribbed lil pj dress with cherries printed on it you were practically naked as the sheer material teases the color of your nipples and shows the outline of the thong straps digging into the swell of your thick hips.

Yeah, by the way his doppel is looking at you the real Toji is certain the only milkman job his freak of a doppel wants is to be one turning your succulent fat cunt into heavy cream.

Heh, over the Toji’s dead fucking body though—well the copy of it at least that's for sure.

“Mamas, c’mon you can’t be this bird-brained…”

The real Toji crossed his arms leaning on the wall trying to keep his cool so you'd realize on your own just how silly you were being but he unintentionally made you lose yours.

“A bird?! Did you just call me a fuckin’ bird Toji Fushiguro!?”

You turn back to Doppel-Toji, whose smirk shifts to an understanding expression by the time you meet his gaze again.

“See this is exactly what I was talking about!”

Pointing an accusing finger at the real Toji and DT nods sympathetically, shooting eyes over to the real Toji who didn’t need his enhanced senses of heavenly restrict to sniff-out this nice-guy act was all a fuckin’ farce from a mile away. 

Voicing your frustrations, you're still griping as you once again face the real Toji who was just about fuckin’ fed up with this stupid-ass charade. 

“Listen, Toji we need to talk… DT says you don’t appreciate me enough! You haven’t been around at all lately and I know you’ve been busy but you could at least call—”

The real Toji closes his eyes, unraveling his arms and cracking his neck as you continue to prattle on. He’s at his limit and he ain’t about to sit through a nagging lecture all while a phony ass version of himself sat there ridiculing him too.

Furthermore, despite there being truth to Toji not being around lately, he’d actually tried to make up for it the best he could. Toji had venmo’d you money to cover your groceries and bills—something he hadn’t done for a woman since his late wife!

Overindulging you, Toji even bought you the newly released iphone you wanted (even though you still have last year’s model and its working just fine). However, according to you— ‘you need the latest new camera for your reels! And what else were you supposed to do but take fire selfies for all your followers if you’re stuck inside all day!’ 

Rolling his eyes at the memory, Toji wasn’t exactly sure when you had domesticated him. Nevertheless, somehow he’d gone from asking you to ‘hold 4000 yen for the week’ to sending you large chunks of his payouts to keep you happy—all before he realized he’d cared enough about you to even go this far. 

If you being a materialistic attention-seeking slutty lil’ thing wasn’t enough, you were also greedy too—still not satisfied and pouting until he was home again to bend your legs back over your head while he ruined your greedy lil' pussy.

As a result of the real Toji spoiling you sour, you’d turned into the nag before him now. Acting like he cared nothing for you whenever you didn’t get your way exactly when and how you wanted it.

“—and that’s why DT says you better act right before you lose me!”

Heh…

Your clingy lil ass wasn’t going nowhere—you were a fuckin’ brat and Toji should have known it would come to this.

Opening his eyes with a chillingly murderous grin, Toji’s demeanor sends shivers down both you and the doppelgänger’s back. 

“S’that right ma?—Is that what he says, eh?”

From there it all happened so fast you weren’t sure what exactly even happened.

You think Toji had ripped the screen door off its hinges, destroying it and shattering the barrier while seemingly producing inverted spear of heaven out of thin air to take the doppelgänger's head right off his body. 

But you weren’t sure.

Where were you? Still in the foyer?

In fact, you can’t really be sure of anything at the moment as Toji has your nighty rolled up past your tits that bounce wildly in his face as his big brawny hands around forcibly slide you up and down on his girthy cock. 

You didn’t know where your panties had even gone, Toji likely tore them off, shredding them to bits, for all you know. 

Your thoughts and current timelines are utterly jumbled as Toji completely hollows out your insides, molding your poor abused hole to the shape of his cock. His brawny grip imprints into your flesh, slamming your hips flush to his while allowing his bulbous cockhead to roughly kiss your cervix with every breath-stopping thrust down on his length. Shivers furiously ripple through your body as your clit is continuously assaulted over and over by the unkept pubes at his base. 

The rough treatment—just how you like it—releases waves of sublime ecstasy sizzling in your brain. Toji is effectively lobotomizing you with his mean fat cock, the relentless drilling thrusts liquifying your consciousness.

Fuck…wait—um, what was your name again even? 

The only name, thing, place you can think of right now begins and ends with Toji as he continues to bully himself inside your body, rippling shockwaves through your cunt that shift your organs around just to his liking.

“Tojiiiiiii, d-dahddy puh-leaseeee!!”

Your slurs are near intelligible but Toji can still make out his name as drool spills over your lips almost as fast as your babbles, thoughts of his doppel completely wiped from your slutty lil’ head. 

Yet even with the now decapitated clone, it wasn’t fully dead just yet. It was a stronger one, near special grade, severing its body parts wouldn't be enough to destroy them. The effects of the inverted spear made RCT impossible for it though as it withered on the ground.

It lay helplessly, dying slowly as Toji fucked the dogshit out of you on the comfy chair you had once been in. Proving to you and the curse that no copy could ever hope to have you falling apart like this—completely dumb for his cock only.  

So easily getting cockdrunk anytime Toji stirs up your guts is why you don’t even register the raspy words Toji practically growls as you—

“You hear that, baby?”

Smacking your ass hard, your flesh ripples against Toji’s palm.

“Answer me slut!”

His insatiable plundering of your cunt as you so blissed-out that the sting of your sore redding ass startles you.

“T-T-Tojsshii!!!”

You whine, sobbing as tears pour down your face, soaking your nighty that was damn near pushed up to your neck now. Toji knowing how big he was usually let you have the reins while in cowgirl but not this time—this was your punishment for being such a bitchy lil’ brat thinking he could be swayed behind some empty fuckin' threats of being replaced.

“Nuh-uh, slutty mamas.”

Toji mercilessly delivers another opened palmed smack that sizzles the nerve ends on your reddening bottom.

“Ya fed that discount version of me my dinner—so I’mma have to make my own—mmm ya hear that?  My version of mac n’ cheese s’almost ready.” Of course, the mac and cheese Toji is referring to his none other than your ooey gooey cunt. Your pussy lips stretch to their limits, yet desperately swallowing his thick girth with a series of wet squelches, glops, and bubbles. The milky fluids that are pushed out of you make an awful mess, running down Toji’s heavy balls and soiling your expensive comfy velvet chair. 

“Now this—this is how you make mac n’ cheese ma, hear that creaminess? You thought that fuckin’ loser ass fake was gonna make a freak-nasty pussy like yours sing like this?”

You can only gasp in response, trying to hang onto him and your own sanity while you dig your nails into Toji’s biceps for leverage as he drills you down on him within an inch of your sanity—the acoustics of your cunt ringing salaciously in your ears. 

“Tsk, look at ya ma, actin’ like you can’t take it when this is what ya really fuckin' wanted all week.”

PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP!

You’re really going to have to speak up now to get Toji to hear you over the sordid sounds of your cheeks being clapped to hell and back. 

"HMPH! MMM—N-No! AHHH—I-I want… SHIIIIIIT S’GUD—ahhh ahhh—d-date!!”

Another slap stings your ass as you pathetically pout, making Toji smack your jiggly flesh once more for good measure. Your cute lil’ expressions only fuel his mean streak.

“Now mamas, ya know we were never gonna go on that date—n’ I know, ya know why.”

Blushing, you bite your lip, shaking your head as you feign ignorance. holding back your sobs—not wanting to own up to what you and Toji both already know to be facts.

“C’mon slut, don’t act all shy now. Ya know the reason why we never go on dates—because this filthy leaky cunt of yours can’t be ‘round me for too long without wanting to get filled up—at the movies *smack* —in the back of the bar *smack* —heh, didn’t ya even make me fuck ya horny lil ass dirty in the filthy-ass stall at the park? *smack* Bratty lil cunt not being able to wait the 5 minute drive home…”

Your pussy flutters tighter around Toji, answering for you as he continues to chuckle at your embarrassment. You were a shameless lil' whore for his dick, and you were at your worst level of brat when you didn’t get it for even a short period of time.

“Whaddya say then? Ya don’t think I appreciate ya ma? Even though I fuck ya, whenever and however your pretty pussy begs for it? Heh. Well then, let me show this pretty cunny how much she's appreciated.” 

Further sliding down the chair, Toji plants his feet firmly on the ground so he can pump himself into you harder. The new angle has his cock pounding deliciously against your g-spot. You bounce wildly for a few pumps before your core muscles, fatigued and screaming at you, have you falling forward onto him. Nuzzling your head into his well-sculpted chest to smother your wails, you're unable to do anything but just take it. 

“Ya hear that, mamas? That's your pussy saying thank you to my cock. She’s always so grateful t'me mamas, better behaved than you anyday.”

Biting into one of his large pectorals Toji chuckles at your feeble attempt to still rebel against him. Your bites feel more akin to a soft tickle—yet the indents your teeth leave spark a feral urge in Toji, who in turn, ramps up the voracity a few levels. 

Sliding his hands from your waist he grips your cheeks, spreading them while you sink down further a few millimeters that almost seemed impossible, already being so full of him. 

“I know she knows how much I care about ‘er by the way she’s gushin’ on me, squeezing me like she’s begging me make her cum, she deserves it even if ya don’t.”

Cheeks cracked-open wide, your puckered rear exposed, Toji smirks as he presses his middle finger against your ridges to toy with the entrance of your asshole. When Toji starts rimming the tight ring of muscle in a furious circular motion, the finger already so slick n’ sticky from your juices—you can already feel just how fuckin hard your about to cum.

“Tsk—shame that mouth of yours you always gettin’ her and your lil’ ass in trouble, eh?”

Soundless moans leave you, your throat raw from the straining of your vocals—that is until Toji sinks his burly finger deeper into your hole, hooking and pressing against the thin wall to the point he can feel how hard he is coring-out your cunt from even the tight insides of your ass.

OH FUCK! 

Too much! 

Too good!

The intrusive and unexpected assault on your back hole is what finally does it for you. Toes curling to the point of cramps your bision blacks out and you think you lost consciousness completely but its your own vocals croaking out cries as you cum—hard that grounds you back to reality. Shivers take over your body and your clenching around Toji so ferally he lets out his own string of curses and he bites into your neck, filling you up—his hefty load overstuffing your pussy as it squelches out and down the sides of his cock.

You don’t know how much time has passed but you’re still trembling in the afterglow of your orgasm. Weakly look up at Toji, all teary-eyed and dazed, in pout so adorable it only makes him want to ruin you more in the most animalistic way possible.

You honestly had him wrapped around your finger like no woman had before and he was going to fuck that knowledge into you, preventing this situation from happening again.

Better yet—Toji was gonna fuck a baby into you to prove it. 

Sear his cum directly into your walls, painting you with his scent and effectively turn your womb into a pretty lil' dump over n’ over—until he finally planted his kid in you.

You wouldn’t be able to complain to him about being lonely then and fuck knows how long this doppelgänger shit was gonna last. 

Fuck tho.

The thought of you fully pregnant and round with his child got his dick back up n’ jumpin’ just from picturing you n'your cute round lil' belly waddling around. So much so that when Toji pulls you off of him to manhandle you into the next position he doesn’t even notice your brand new phone on the ground next to his feet until— 

*CRUNCH*

“Tojiiii my new phone! I still have reels that haven’t been posted!!!”

You’re coughing out your complaints, dizzy and out of breath from being fucked so hard. Scanning the ground for your phone you can barely support yourself as you bend forward to access the damage, until you feel Toji snatch you back up.

“Heh, fuck that phone and fuck ya IG ma. I’mma about to give ya something to put on a sonogram instead—now drape ya fine self over the back of this chair n’ toot that pretty peach of an ass up.”

The slap to your backside this time is so loud the force causes your ears to ring along with the rest of your body to tingle, your tongue lolling out of your mouth drooling from the force rocking into your overstimmed cunt. 

“N’ m’not asking ya!”

You would have surely collapsed to the ground if Toji, fed up, hadn’t just taken matters into his own hands and positioned your limp, ragdoll-like body over the chair himself.

Ass up and out on display, Toji parts your swollen folds with his thumbs. Admiring his cum plugging your gaping slit, Toji gifts a wad of spit into your hole adding to the fluids before he rubs his dick, now even harder than before, through your ruined folds. 

Grabbing your hair and yanking your head back Toji’s words send shivers down your spine as he bullies himself into your core once more—all in one go, taking him in so nicely like a slutty lil glove.

“Listen ma, the only DT I ever wanna hear you say is ‘Daddy Toji’. Now scream it for me, baby. Loudly. Tell the whole neighborhood, eh? They're already lookin’. ”

Huh? What was he…Fuck, the front door was wide open this entire time?!?!

Struggling to keep your bleary eyes open, your body keenly jolts from the backshots Toji is ruthlessly gifting your cunt. Losing yourself to pleasure again you see another doppelgänger on the approaching from the street—

This time it’s a perfect copy of—you! 

However your copy freezes on the lawn once it catches sight of your state caused by the giant bear of a man recklessly pummeling into your limp body from behind and his nearly dead doppel, whose limbs still miraculously twitch while scattered over the porch. 

Your doppel’s face twists in horror before she quickly flees the scene, smart enough to have more self-preservation than Toji’s as she wisely decides against engaging in any of these fuckin’ problems.

......RESULT: FAILED. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚞 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛—𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎.

that's not my jjk man series (visit series page for full animation)

comment and reblog! next up geto, already finished posting 10/21.

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

[the-californicationist]

he gives great gifts

Price/Reader - TW: remote vibrator, minor female ejaculation

“Hey, love, I’m home,” Price’s voice called out to you, summoning you to the front door. 

He was carrying all of your packages and mail, along with his rucksack, home for the weekend. You took the mail, helping him leave the worries of the day at the door to join you in the kitchen. You were making his favorite, chicken spaghetti, and you just started the oven. 

Your captain sat at the island counter, opening up the mail and sorting out the bills. He kissed you as you walked past him, his mustache tickling your lip and cheek

“Mm,” he moaned, “How was your day?”

“Good,” you smiled, flirting with him, “Missed you, though. How was yours? Any news from Laswell?”

“No, not yet. Still waiting on the intel. Oh, hey, it came!” He lit up, tearing into a small package with his knife.

“What’s that?” You asked over your shoulder, bending to put the chicken in the oven. 

“Bought you an early birthday present. Come see,” he was holding a black box, lifting the lid to reveal the prize inside. 

“John, I thought we said no gifts? What did you… oh, my God. Is that what I think it is?”

“Yeah,” he smiled like he had just won a medal, prideful and obviously chuffed, “...and it has a remote.”

You were staring at a lime green, silicone dildo. It was shaped like a curved smile, one large end for insertion and the other smaller end to be nestled on top of your clit. 

“A remote?” You asked, taking out the toy and feeling its smoothness in your hands. It was lightweight, but very solid. It seemed expensive, well-crafted, and like John had spent way too much money on you, as usual.

It buzzed in your hands, coming alive with a low rumble. It shocked you, and you almost dropped it.

“Oh, my God!” You laughed, “What was that?”

He held up a matching lime green remote. It was small, like a car fob, and it had a few different buttons to choose from. Price’s face was full of mischief,

“Put it in, love.”

“I’m making dinner,” you protested, but you didn’t put it down. 

“So?” He whispered darkly, dragging your hips toward him, kissing you deeply, licking your mouth and leaving little love bites down the side of your neck.

You giggled, smiling sweetly. He made it so easy to give in to him. You sighed,

“Okay, okay. Help me put it in, honey.”

Price put the remote down and slid your pants down to your thighs, pulling your panties down with them. He took the toy from you and opened the little packet of lube that came in the pouch, coating the thick end. He hesitated, slipping his own finger into you first, finding you a little too wet and already turned on. 

He made a face, full of delighted surprise, teasing you,

“Someone’s excited, hm?”

Impatient, he slid the toy into you gently, fitting it at your entrance and pressing it up into you. He pulled it back out again and used it to fuck you for a few strokes, making you moan quietly, leaning forward to steady yourself on his huge forearm. 

“Mm,” he groaned, “You like that, love?”

“Yeah,” you gasped.

He settled it all the way in and made sure the front was in the right place before replacing your panties and your leggings back up around your waist. You kissed him again, and went back into the kitchen to finish up with dinner. 

The excitement of knowing he could control your pleasure was building inside of you. You didn’t see the remote on the countertop, and he was busy recycling the boxes, so you thought you were safe. You leaned down again to check the chicken, and then you almost came out of your skin as the toy came alive inside of you. 

Price was unbothered, pouring a few fingers of whisky into his glass, innocently. He saw you looking at him and smiled knowingly, taking a long swig of the amber liquid into his mouth. You glared, but you needed to put the pasta on to boil. So, you turned back around to grab a pot. 

Inside of you, the toy buzzed, low and rumbling, shaking your clit and rattling against your g-spot in tandem, freezing you in place, riding out the waves of sensation. You struggled to bring yourself back to your task, but you wanted to play along, so you brought the pot over to the sink, panting, trying to work through the blinding pleasure, filling the pot with warm water. You had a few seconds to wait for it to reach the top, so you closed your eyes, reveling in the vibrations. 

You let out a moan, eyes still wrenched shut, hands on either side of the sink. 

“Um, love?” Price interrupted your lust, pointing to the pot which was now overflowing.

“Oh, shit,” you turned off the tap, and managed to pour out some of the water without too much trouble.

However, as you turned to walk it back over to the stove, he turned up the intensity. There was now some sort of… rotation… happening inside of you. It honestly felt like you were being fucked, like a cock was thrusting up into you, punishing your core. You stopped in your tracks, gripping the heavy pot for dear life, moaning in full volume. 

“John!”

Everything stopped. You gasped, your eyes flitting to him immediately. The captain was grinning from ear to ear, drinking his whisky and enjoying the show. He chuckled,

“What is it? You alright?” 

You laughed in short, panting breaths, rolled your eyes at him, and put the pot down to open the pantry for the spaghetti. When you reached for the door handle, the sensations were back, sending bolts of pleasure through your pussy, making your panties damp as you gushed out around the unrelenting dildo. You grabbed the handle tighter, steadying yourself against the frame of the door, resting your body against it, keening like a paid whore. Just as you were about to tumble over the edge, inches away from coming, it stopped again. 

“John Price,” you turned toward him, eyes wild, “You did not just - ”

“I’m starving,” he said casually, not even looking in your direction, pretending to scroll through his phone, “Think you’ll have dinner ready soon, love?”

You groaned, opening the door and reaching for the pasta boxes, waiting for him to click the button again. 

There was nothing. 

You waited in the pantry a little longer, baiting him.

Nothing. Not even a little jiggle. 

You barged out of the pantry, and as soon as he saw you, you were sent to your knees. He’d turned whatever setting it was all the way up. You dropped the pasta boxes, crawling on the floor of the kitchen like an animal, screaming out lurid cries and feeling your thighs tremble from the onslaught. 

“Did you think I would let you hide in there where I couldn’t see you?” His question was delivered with cold cruelty. He had left his seat and was now standing over you, remote in hand, watching you suffer at his feet. You begged for mercy,

“Baby, please, God… I need… oh, fuck!”

“Pick up the pasta. Now,” He commanded you, his voice loud and oppressive.

“John, please,” you clutched at the leg of his jeans, feeling like you were coming in waves and waves and waves. 

He reached down with his empty hand and grabbed you by the hair at the base of your skull, forcing you to look up at him, 

“I said: Pick. Up. The. Pasta.”

“Okay, okay…” You were trying to breathe. You let go of his pant leg and reached for the boxes, feeling your pussy clench around the toy as it fucked the life out of you. 

Your hands were shaking. The dry spaghetti made the sound of cheap maracas, clattering out of the box and splashing in the boiling water. You tried to open the second box, and you couldn’t. Your hands weren’t following your commands.

Price’s eyes bore into you as he stood next to you, watching you come apart under his control. Very casually, he took the box from you, opened it, and handed it back to you. He was breathing hard, as if he, too, was being subjected to the same sensations. 

Unable to stop yourself, you looked down at his cock. It was pressing against his pants, making a perfect outline of itself, hard as a stone. He caught you looking and palmed himself over the top of the fabric, squeezing the head to relieve some of the tension. 

You were practically drooling for him. But, you went back to the meal, putting the other box of pasta in as gently as you could. The way that this toy was fucking you almost reminded you of having John’s fingers in you while he sucked on your clit. The vibrations and steady rocking movements brought you to completion in a way where you couldn’t tell where one orgasm ended and the other began. 

As you turned your back to face Price, he moved toward you, pulling you away from the stove and shoving you up against the countertop. He snaked his hand between your legs and pushed up on the toy, forcing it to fuck you deeper than normally possible, shoving it in you mercilessly. 

“John, I’m going to come, please!”

You came, but it was unique. You felt like you were wetting yourself, coming so hard that fluid was squirting out of you, soaking your panties and leggings, along with John’s invasive hand. 

“Mm, fuck,” he growled in your ear, “Did you just squirt for me? Bloody fucking hell.”

“I don’t…” you couldn’t form coherent thoughts, “I dunno. John, help me, please…”

“Sweet girl, do you need this cock?” he pulled your bottoms down, trapping your knees with them, and held you up by your waist. He turned off the vibrator and tugged it out of you gently. You were so slick that it slid out of you without much resistance. Your pussy was throbbing, flooded with come, and desperate for a familiar sort of relief. 

“Yes, please, God,” you begged, tears in the corners of your eyes. 

“Alright, love,” he let you feel his hot head at your pulsating entrance, ready to sink into you, “It’s alright, I'm here now.”

Reblogs and comments deeply appreciated!

AO3 Link

[norrisainz33]

Best in Show || CS55 & CL16

☆ summary: charles’ sister is headed to the olympics and she’s ready to bring things to the next level with her fwb carlos

☆ pairing: carlos sainz & olympic!leclerc!reader

☆ f/c & warnings: none; slightly suggestive & terribly translated french

☆ requested: yes!! thanks for your request 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

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user3: i don’t understand how all of the leclerc’s are so perfect and talented

user1: the leclerc brothers are so 🤤

user2: princess of monaco about to eat up the competition at the olympics

user8: wait that’s insane only 6 athletes? the uk sent 327… y/n must be really good

user2: she is!! she’s been to the show jumping world cup AND she won the jumping international in monte carlo (both huge accomplishments especially at her age)

user4: their genes are strong and full of sporting talent huh

user24: they should’ve gotten carlos in on this interview. he loves talking about y/n

user18: no fr he very clearly has a crush on her

ynleclerc has made a post

liked by charlesleclerc, scuderiaferrari, visitmonaco, carlossainz55, oscarpiastri, and 879,001 others

ynleclerc: did someone say ,, olympics? get ready to watch your favorite duo (me and [horse’s name]) take on paris 😉

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user6: HI Y/N (louder than everyone else)

user7: she’s so unserious i love her

charlesleclerc: and why did you have to post the last photo

ynleclerc: because i love it frère [brother]

arthurleclerc: why didn’t i make the olympics announcement post

ynleclerc: bc you refused to put on the glasses bebe

user11: the royal family of monaco is so beautiful

juliaanalvarez: looking forward to seeing you in paris

ynleclerc: you better cheer me on julián

user88: ik carlos is shaking in his boots. he’s got competition it seems

user99: no y/n anyone but a soccer player

carlossainz55: congratulations on making it to the olympics y/n 😍

ynleclerc: thanks carly 🤭

user22: CARLY DNSKSJF

user18: i ship y/n and carlos so hard

use r23: day 124 of wondering why they aren’t together

ynleclerc has made a post

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charlesleclerc, yourbff, landonorris, francisca.cgomes, and 534,230 others

ynleclerc: don’t worry everyone - the party has arrived in paris and we already made it through the first round 🇲🇨

view all 546 comments

user12: oh thank goodness (i wasn’t worried)! congratulations on an incredible first round

user13: what do i have to do to be that horse

landonorris: when are you gonna let me take a ride on ya?

charlesleclerc: mate that’s my sister

landonorris: i was talking abt the horse

ynleclerc: i hate you landonorris

landonorris: no you don’t ma cherry

ynleclerc: CHÉRIE

landonorris: 😘😘

user29: lando is so real for this

user24: impatiently waiting for carlos to get here

alexandrasaintmleux: the prettiest girl in all of paris. i am so proud of you 🤍

ynleclerc: please get your beautiful self here quicker 😫

carlossainz55: paris is looking real good these days 😍

ynleclerc: you should come find out just how good it looks 😏

user23: whoa get a room

arthurleclerc: please stop flirting

texts between you and carlos

ynleclerc has added to their story

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user77: my god you’re gorgeous

user99: now who … sent you those flowers ms y/n? was it charles? was it julian? was it carlos? i won’t spill the beans if u tell me i promise

user34: i’m rooting for you y/n!! you and [horses name] are going to crush it

landonorris: i know i didn’t send you flowers… so who did?

ynleclerc: wait… you didn’t send these?

landonorris: y/n/n don’t play with me. was it him?

ynleclerc: yes 🤭

landonorris: I KNEW IT. so you guys together or?

landonorris: DONT LEAVE ME ON READ TF

charlesleclerc: y/n/n - i only sent you the white ones… who are the others from?

ynleclerc: my adoring fans!

charlesleclerc: arrête! [stop it] we both know that is not the case

charlesleclerc: just tell me who they are from. i’ll be cool about it

ynleclerc: no you won’t charlie 🤍

arthurleclerc: charles sent me - tell me who those are from

ynleclerc: no! hope that helps bebe 😘

arthurleclerc: are they from a certain spanish driver or an argentinian footballer?

alexandrasaintmleux: your brothers are insufferable sometimes…. but don’t worry i didn’t tell them who sent those gorgeous flowers 😍🤭

ynleclerc: my girl 😘

user87: wagering a bet that those flowers are from carlos

ynleclerc has made a post

liked by carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, landonorris, danielricciardo, yourbff, and 876,456 others

ynleclerc: obviously not the result i was hoping for. we tapped the last bar on the last jump as we were about to set the fastest time. i’m gutted but at the same time i am immensely proud of everything [horse’s name] and i have accomplished. we are bringing home monaco’s only medal from the entire olympic games and for that i am elated. i think i prefer silver anyway 🥈🤍

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user67: being the reason monaco is getting a medal is still an insane serve

user87: my favorite horse girl

landonorris: a medal is a medal - proud of you punk

ynleclerc: thank you bobby

juliaanalvarez: congratulations on a hard won medal!

ynleclerc: merci julian! glad we got to catch up 🤍

user57: back!! back i said 🤺

carlossainz55: y/n/n you gave it everything you had out there and you have so much to be proud of. i am in awe of you

ynleclerc: carlos 🥹

user55: this is so sweet i’m gonna throw up

user23: day 145 of wondering why they aren’t together

arthurleclerc: good job or whatever sis

ynleclerc: thanks loser

carmenmundt: you are an absolute inspiration! congratulations on following your dreams and making them come true 🤍

ynleclerc: i love you so much carmen

charlesleclerc has made a post

liked by ynleclerc, carlossainz55, pierregasly, scuderiaferrari, visitmonaco, landonorris and 987,654 others

charlesleclerc: we made it to paris in time to see y/n in the final event. ma petite sœur je suis si fière de toi. je suis pour toujours et à jamais ton plus grand soutien. [my little sister, i am so proud of you. i am forever and always your biggest supporter]

view all 999 comments

scuderiaferrari: congrats y/n on a hard fought silver! we are so proud of you

user16: wake up ! hottest photo dump of the summer just dropped 😭😫😍

user37: wow arthur is eating charles up in the 4th slide

ynleclerc: merci charlie. je t'aime jusqu'à la lune et retour. merci d'être là [thank you charlie. I love you to the moon and back. thank you for being there]

charlesleclerc: je t'aime y/n/n. i wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.

ynleclerc: btw who even invited pierre?

pierregasly: why can’t i turn up and support my favorite leclerc?

ynleclerc: i’m your favorite?

pierregasly: no , not even close

francisca.cgomes: i’m sorry y/n! he simply insisted upon tagging along 🙄

ynleclerc: i’ll let it slide because i got to see you my love 😍

user34: so special that they were all able to make it to paris

alexandrasaintmleux: my favorite girl in the whole world is an olympic medalist! monaco and all of us are so proud 🤍

ynleclerc: don’t make me cry 🥹

user76: monegasque royal family is my roman empire

ynlecerc has posted to their story

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user55: I KNOW THATS MY MAN CARLOS

user87: you ain’t slick id recognize that hand and arm anywhere. that is mr carlos sainz jr

francisca.cgomes: your brother resorted to calling me to see if i knew who was in this post 🙄

ynleclerc: of course he did…. he’ll find out soon enough 🤭

charlesleclerc: anything you want to tell me? looks a lot like a teammate of mine

ynleclerc: nothing i want to tell you charlie :)

carlossainz55: had a wonderful evening with you mi amor. let’s do it again.. and again and again and again.

ynleclerc: i had an amazing time. i’m already looking forward to our next date!! you may as well just come back to my flat now idk why you even left in the first place

carlossainz55: didn’t want to come across too clingy

ynleclerc: good thing i like clingy! get back here 😏

carlossainz55: yes ma’am

user27: begging to know how much charles and arthur are stressing over this story

ynleclerc has made a post

liked by scuderiaferrari, yourbff, carlossainz55, carmenmundt, landonorris, visitmonaco, and 789,465 others

ynleclerc: yes, you all guessed it! he’s mine 😘

view all 899 comments

user13: someone check on the user who has been counting the days since they started flirting

user23: i’ve been summoned!! all i can say is thank god

landonorris: it’s about time

arthurleclerc: i called it

user99: old money carlos is perfect for our equestrian goddess

charlesleclerc: so this is how i find out?

ynleclerc: you did say you were one of my fans so… yes?

charlesleclerc: you are on my last nerve

carmenmundt: adorable 😍

carlossainz55: my gorgeous girl 😘

ynleclerc: my man my man my man

francisca.cgomes: time for a double date 🤍

pierregasly: charles says i’m not allowed

ynleclerc: who said you were invited pierre?

user47: vibes in the ferrari garage in zandvoort are gonna be wild

user98: carlosy/n truthers our time has come

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: another installment of olympic reader wahooo! slowly but surely making my way through my requests. liked and reblogs are always appreciated

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[hyukalyptus]

office hours — professor!soobin x gradstudent!reader

cw. chubby!reader, reader is an adult grad student, minimal age gap, clear consent, petnames (babe, baby, honey, darling, good boy), mommy kink, face sitting, unprotected penetration, creampie, cunnilingus, handjobs, ending is cheesy, "epilogue" of sorts involves christmas vibes, kissing, please lmk if i'm missing anything. NSFW/MDNI notes. i would feel irresponsible if i didn't acknowledge this is a romanticized portrayal of a professor-student relationship. while the relationship in this story has clear consent multiple times, irl relationships like this can be inappropriate and exploitative bc of the authority imbalance. you deserve a healthy, consensual relationship. prioritize ur well-being and autonomy. relationships should be built on mutual respect, equality and clear consent. this is a work of fiction and should be read as such. shoutout to @silvergyus for sending the prof!soob pic <3 wc. 11.6k

“Which brings us to Le Chatelier's Principle in real-world chemical reactions,” Professor Choi says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “This will be review for most of you, so I won’t go into too much detail.” 

Chemistry is your favorite thing in the world. It’s real-life magic. And Professor Choi sees it that way too. His olive green chinos are wrinkled from walking from his office. The sleeves of his white button-down are pushed up so he can write freely on the whiteboard while his burgundy tie sways with his scurries. 

Sparks of passion fill his eyes as he lectures. And he never disappoints with his cheesy jokes. Although you seem to be the only one that laughs at them—maybe you’re the only one that gets them. Not many students in his class are the experts in chemistry you are. You took it as a break from your intense course load and the elective credits are a nice bonus. 

Most of your professors are so old they barely know how to turn on their laptop and are so deep into their tenure they’ve given up. If you bothered showing up to their office hours, you’d be lucky to find a professor, let alone a helpful one. So you’ve become a frequent visitor in Professor Choi’s office hours, talking about advanced chemistry he can’t wait to teach but it’ll be at least five years before he can. In the meantime, he’ll settle for nerding out with you in his office for a few hours every week.

“Great class today, everyone,” he says. “Have a great weekend and don’t hesitate to visit me during my office hours with any questions!” That sentence started out as a normal speaking voice but ended up a shout over the shuffling of the desk chairs and backpacks. You’re typically the last one out, but you save your questions for his office hours tomorrow. 

-

“Hi,” you say, lightly tapping your knuckle against his office door.

Turning around in his chair, his lips form a pout in surprise at seeing you. “Were you waiting outside? Sorry that meeting ran a little long—” He shuffles to organize his desk. 

“That’s okay.” Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, he rests his hands on his thighs and looks up at you. Did he just look you up and down? Don’t be ridiculous. 

“What can I do ya for?”

“Right,” you start. “Can I…?” You ask, motioning toward the spare chair, waiting for his nod before sitting. “You know Professor Vaughn’s class?” You barely catch it, but his eyes roll. Professor Vaughn is the worst professor you’ve had. Boring, harsh, impatient. It doesn’t help he teaches one of the most complex forms of chemistry. “I’m not really getting this week’s content and was wondering if you could help me.”

“Of course.” He smiles. And it’s devastating. The sparkle in his eyes and those dimples. Craning his neck to look at your notes riddled with red question marks, he nods. As soon as he sees the title of your notes, he says, “Let’s think about this from a quantum mechanical perspective. If we assume that the π-complex is forming, we’re talking about a stabilization due to delocalization π-electrons, right?”

In what feels like no time at all, an hour has passed and the conversation has been the complete opposite of Professor Vaughn’s lectures. Questions led down rabbit holes, leading to other theorems and more questions. As he glances up at you through his glasses, there is an undeniable tingle in your stomach.

It’s not like you haven’t noticed how attractive Professor Choi is. He’s tall, lean but undeniably strong, he has the most perfect silky black hair and the prettiest brown eyes, and his pout—indescribably cute. And again—those goddamn dimples. He’s the perfect mixture of sexy, handsome, and pretty. You’d never think of doing anything with a professor, but you can’t help your mind wanders during the slower lectures. 

How long have you been staring at each other in silence? Too long probably. He clears his throat. “Well,” he says, looking at his watch. “My office hours have been over for a few—”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” you say, stumbling as you stand, attempting to gather your things as quickly as possible. But he shakes his head, trying to shrug it off. 

“That’s okay,” he says. “I, uh, I just have my emails waiting for me.”

You nod, shoving everything into your bag and heading out the door. What was that? You’re probably overreacting, you think to yourself. He’s charming because of his looks, there’s no way he’d— No. Don’t even finish that thought. 

-

"How is it that someone who scored the highest in my theoretical chemistry exam is turning basic lab work into a spectacle of incompetence?" Professor Vaughn boasts over your right shoulder. No doubt his thick eyebrows are furrowed.

As your hands tighten around the test tube, you know exactly what to do—you always do—but everything slips through your fingers in his class. 

"I’m trying to get the reaction to stabilize," you stammer, eyes darting between your hands, the chemical reagents lined up on the table, and your notebook.

Professor Vaugn’s expression hardens as he steps closer, looking down his nose at your station. "Trying is for high school sophomores. If you’re still trying, you’re behind."

Taking a deep breath, you carefully add three more drops to the mixture but the reaction goes wrong. Again. A plume of white smoke rises from the beaker, and the liquid turns an unexpected, muddy brown.

"Unbelievable," Vaughn mutters loud enough for everyone to hear. Everyone knows you’re the best student in your class. Well, everyone except Soren, who’s so jealous of your intelligence they can hardly stand it. They simply smirk. "I expected more from you."

Your heart sinks. You checked those calculations three times. Maybe it’s your shaky hands. Or the pressure of him looming over your shoulder. Or the other stuff on your mind. 

"Are you going to sit there and guess again, or would you like to double down on failure with your next attempt?" Vaughn sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I’m not guessing, Professor. I—"

"Can’t manage a basic reaction?" Vaughn interrupts with his icy voice. "I’m beginning to wonder how you even made it into this program."

"I’m perfectly capable. The solution is just—"

"Wrong. Yes, we’ve established that." Vaughn’s lips curl into a patronizing sneer. "Maybe chemistry isn’t the field for you if this is the best you can manage." That got everyone’s attention—it would be an interesting sight to see you fail. It so rarely happens. Sure, you’ve been doubted before but have always proven yourself. Today would be no different.

You take a deep breath and count to yourself, One. Two. Three. Four. Five. 

As you block out Vaughn’s piercing gaze and the weight of the other students’ eyes, you carefully remeasure the chemical, adjusting the proportions this time, methodically double-checking your work. You add the reagent once more, slowly, and watch as the solution begins to shift. 

A moment passes. The reaction stabilizes and the solution turns a clear, pale blue. 

"Finally," Vaughn mutters. You don’t even have to look at him to know he rolled his eyes. He turns to walk away but pauses. "Barely acceptable. Next time, you won’t be given the luxury of so many failures."

-

Bursting through the door upon dismissal, you can’t get to the restroom fast enough, barely making it to a stall before tears stream down your cheeks. 

“One. Two. Three. Four. Five,” you whisper to yourself. 

Sometimes, chemical reactions need to be dealt with instantly, but that’s an overwhelming amount of pressure. You give yourself five seconds before you absolutely have to deal with it. Same thing here. Cry. Count to five. Wipe your tears and move on.

But it’s difficult to move on this time. You’ve counted to five a few too many times today. But the only person you want to talk about it with is—

Professor Choi,  Are you available to meet me in Lab 270 tomorrow afternoon? I’ve been struggling with some reactions and could use some help. I’ll be there from 2:00—4:00.  If not, no worries! 

Sniffling, you hit send on your email app, shove your phone in your bag and head home. 

The next day drags on and on. Did he even get your message? Expecting an empty lab, you’re surprised to find Professor Choi waiting for you behind a laptop wearing a cute tweed jacket with suede elbow patches. His eyebrows are furrowed as his focused eyes study the computer, but they brighten at the sight of you. 

Initially surprised by your confusion, he squeezes his eyes shut and says, “I didn’t respond to your email, did I?” He’s already got the lab station set up. How long has he been waiting on you? “So, how’s Professor Vaughn’s class?” Did someone tell him about yesterday? God, you hope not. 

“Fine,” you deadpan. Shaking your head, you say, “I’m sorry…I’m just kinda stressed.” 

“I can go if you need some time by—”

“No,” you say, softening your tone. “I’d really appreciate your help.”

And he’s more than willing, letting you ask whatever you want, never interrupting or talking over you like most of the men in the program. He gives you space to explore ideas and theories, listening closely instead of answering everything for you.

And he’s so damn sexy when he’s the one doing the ranting. The way he talks with his hands, ones that are so big with fingers so long you wish he would wrap around your—

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” He asks.

Oh shit, did you say that out loud? What a fucking nightmare. “Uh, sorry, just…talking to myself. Too many thoughts racing around the ole dome.”

A slight pout forms on his lips as he continues his rant. Now, the only thing you can think of are his lips wrapped around your—

“Ah!” Your hand slips toward the Bunsen burner and, great, now you’ve got a nice burn on your thumb. 

“Oh gosh, are you okay?” He stands quickly. “Let me see.” His fingers graze your palm, igniting a fiercer burn than the actual flame just did. “Run it under cold water, okay?”

In the meantime, he straightens up your station before meeting you at the sink. “Is something wrong?” His words make you jump. “You seem distracted.” 

That’s all it takes. The floodgates open. You rant about the sexist piece of shit Professor Vaughn and his power moves to intimidate you when he knows you’re the best student in the program. About how embarrassed you were in lab yesterday. Last semester when you raised your hand to correct an equation on the board and he gave you a firm talking to about respect after class. 

He watches you carefully, handing over a towel for your hands as you take a steadying breath, fighting back tears.

“Did I ever tell you why I started studying chemistry?” he asks. You sniffle, shaking your head. “My grandfather. He was a baker.” His voice softens, and you look up to find his eyes full of kindness. “Every Saturday, he’d make me work in his bakery. I didn’t mind—it felt like magic, you know? But really, it’s science. It’s all precision, measurements, timing.” 

A smile tugs at his lips. “Once, I tried baking a cake for my mom’s birthday, followed his recipe exactly. Measured the flour, the sugar, the cocoa. When I pulled it out of the oven, it was hard. Flat. I was sure he’d be disappointed, calling it a waste of time and ingredients. I was terrified. But he looked at it, smiled, and told me to try again the next day. When I asked why it didn’t work, he said I needed to ‘feel my way through it.’”

You sit there, the sting from your burn now fading, but your heart’s still aching, wanting something from him—a hug, a kiss, even just a pat on the shoulder.

“If I’d gotten it right the first time, I’d never know what overmixed batter looks like. Or that I like more cocoa than he did. Or that you should coat berries in flour.” His smile creeps up to his eyes. “Seeing how failure could make you better—it made me curious. I wanted to understand why some things worked and others didn’t, why I needed to feel my way through it, to get into the details.” He makes eye contact with you again. “That’s why I went into chemistry. Baking taught me the magic is in the little things—if you’re willing to screw up and keep going.”

Nodding, you smile back. His words hang in the air for a moment, like they’re meant to settle, but something’s missing. 

“All I’m saying is, its okay to fuck things up, okay?” he says, his candidness drawing a chuckle from you. “How else would you learn?”

-

The world’s drained of color—only hazy shades of grey and beige are left. Your palms press against a cold marble countertop with the faint sound of running water echoing in the distance. The reflection of the mirror looks like you, but not quite. The woman in the mirror has her lips painted a dark, sultry brown, a shade you’d never choose. And the outfit is far too dressy for a lecture. Shadows fall where there shouldn’t be any. 

The hallways are unfamiliar, yet you know it's the same building you visit almost every day. It's blurry, like you’re walking through a memory that isn’t yours. 

You look down at the saddle shoes on your feet clicking against the tile floor, unnervingly filling the emptiness. It feels like someone else is controlling your body but you don’t question it. You can’t. Your hand raises, knuckles brushing a wooden door before it creaks open on its own. 

On the other side of the door, Professor Choi faces a green chalkboard. Has that always been in his office? Hurriedly scribbling down equations, he glances between the board and the notebook in his hand. When he looks over his shoulder at you, his eyes soften and a slow smile spreads across his face. “Come in,” he says gently, setting his notebook aside. His voice wraps around you, making the room feel smaller, closer. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your spine tingles. “I know,” you reply, but the words sound hollow, like you’re speaking from somewhere else. 

“Here,” he suggests, holding a piece of chalk out to you. The way he gestures toward the board is magnetic. As you take it from his hand, your fingers brush his. “What do you think of this?” An unfinished equation waits to be solved. His presence looms behind you, close but not quite touching as you reach up to solve it. Your heart pounds, every stroke of the chalk on the board heavier than it should.

“Impressive,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough around the edges. You turn to face him and he’s closer than expected, his warmth radiating against your skin. The air is thick with something unspoken. You step closer, tentative at first, then quicker, more certain. Your lips almost brush his, but he pulls back, his breath catching.

He looks down, your name a whisper on his lips, soft and pained. “I—” His eyes flicker up to meet yours, then fall back down like the weight of your gaze is too much.

“What?” You ask, your voice barely more than a breath. Your eyes dart between his, lingering on his tempting mouth. He leans in again with desire in his eyes. He wants to kiss you. You can feel it. And for a moment you think he might.

But he pulls away, his forehead nearly resting against yours. “I don’t think we should be doing this,” he says, his voice strained, as if saying the words is physically painful for him.

“Why not?” The question slips from your lips before you can stop it, frustration and longing lacing your tone.

His hands flex at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to touch you. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to, or—”

“Why would I feel like that?” you interrupt, your voice impatient. Your heart races, pounding in your ears, drowning out reason.

“I’m your professor,” he breathes out like it’s a curse. His words only fan the flames of the tension building between you. There’s nothing wrong with that, you think to yourself. It’s not like you’re fresh out of high school—you’re a grad student, close to starting the same PhD he earned barely three years ago. He’s no more than five years older.

“I don’t care,” you insist, stepping even closer, your lips a breath away from his. “I want you to kiss me.”

His eyes darken, his resolve faltering as his gaze drops to your lips. “It’s a mistake,” he whispers, but his voice trembles with indecision, trying to convince himself more than you.

“Make the mistake,” you urge, your voice soft but sure. Your hand reaches for his tie, tugging as light as you can just to bring him that much closer. “You said it yourself, it’s okay to fuck things up.”

There’s a beat of silence, so thick it feels as though the room itself is holding its breath, waiting. And in that moment, the space between you seems to collapse, the weight of everything unsaid pulling you closer. 

The millisecond before your lips touch, you breathe awake. 

You bolt straight up, feeling around your soft bed sheets, breathless as your heart pounds from the vividness of it all. For a moment, you linger in the feeling, brushing your fingers over your lips, feeling the warmth of the almost kiss. But reality sinks in and your stomach drops.

Reaching for your phone, you check the time. Great, it’s almost time for his class. But there’s no hazy world to hide in. Skipping class might be an option but an exam reminder drags you out of bed. 

- 

Trudging across campus, your stomach sinks lower with each step. How can you look him in the eye? Dropping your bag to the floor with a thud, you hang your head low. Let’s just get through this exam and get outta here. 

“How’s your hand?” Professor Choi’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding his hands up. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Looking at you like you’re the cutest puppy he’s ever seen, you can’t bring yourself to speak, but you hold out your hand. The second his fingertips touch yours, you flinch and jerk it back. 

“Um—” you start. “Better, thanks.” Turning away from him, you distract yourself with a random notebook from your bag. 

“...You okay? You shouldn’t be nervous about the exam.” When you look up, you’re met with eyes that appear…hurt? 

“No, it’s not that.” That’s not a good answer. “Just…” What would you even say? I had an incredibly vivid—and delicious—dream about you last night and now I need to know how your lips feel in real life? “Cramps.”

“Ah.” He nods and leaves you alone, awkwardly walking to the front of the class to make some announcements and general good wishes before the exam. With your fist pressed to your chin, you refuse to look up, hanging your head low even as he slides you your copy. 

There’s a bright green post-it stuck to it with a note, It’s okay to fuck it up! Your heart races as your eyes dart around searching for him. When you find him, he gives you a soft smile. You return the smile but rush to unstick it before anyone sees, storing it in your notebook for safe keeping. 

-

As you return to your apartment, the post-it stares back at you like you’re the guiltiest son-of-a-bitch in the world. It’s practically calling you a whore. And you can hardly take it anymore. You can’t bring yourself to face him for class a few days later—although skipping feels like a cardinal sin. Soon enough, though, your email dings. 

From: Choi Soobin, PhD I noticed you were absent from class today. I hope everything’s okay. The lecture notes are attached for your reference. Feel free to stop by my office hours with any questions. Professor Choi

Did your heart just flutter? Why are you walking toward his office? When you knock on the door, he stands—more like stumbles—to greet you, “Hi!” 

“Hi, Professor Choi…” You linger in the doorway, clutching your notebook tight to your chest. “Sorry I missed class—”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah—”

“You’re not overwhelmed with coursework, are you?” His eyes search yours, and there’s a softness in his voice that makes it hard to look away.

“No, no, I’m alright. I just…had a migraine this morning,” you say, shrugging slightly. “It’s gone now, though.”

He nods, easing into a warm smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” His gaze doesn’t waver and the intensity makes your pulse quicken. “So, I’m guessing you’re here to go over questions from the lecture?”

“Actually, it’s Professor Vaughn’s class I’m struggling with. His lecture today was…brutal.”

“I’m shocked,” he says sarcastically. “The man’s got a gift for making simple concepts sound like Greek.”

“Exactly,” you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing. “I thought it was me, but he seems to take pride in making everything harder than it needs to be.”

“Trust me, it’s not you,” he says, a glint of warmth in his eyes. “He’s terrible. And annoying. And boring. And I’d tell him that.”

You raise a brow, skeptical. “You wouldn’t.”

“Well…” He breaks into a grin. “Maybe after I reach tenure. Though he may be retired by then.”

“Or dead,” you say matter-of-factly. He looks at you awkwardly then you both laugh, genuinely. There’s an ease to it.

He gestures to your notebook. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

-

“I can’t believe I’m laughing at that,” you say, a giggle escaping your lips. 

“You always laugh at my bad jokes,” he replies, staring at your face a little too longingly. If you were anyone else, he might find some excuse to touch you. Maybe brush a piece of lint off your shoulder, lightly touch your arm while he laughed at something you said, or something as casual as a fist bump. 

If he were any other guy, you’d be much more obvious, making it crystal clear you want him to kiss you right now. But you can’t. You don’t even know how he thinks about you. You’re probably just another student to him. 

“Well, those are all my questions,” you say, awkwardly packing your bag. 

“Yeah, you can, uh…head out…” he trails off as you start to rise from your seat. 

You’re searching for something to say, something to let you stay just a little longer. But nothing comes. He watches you walk toward the door, the silence hanging in the space between you. 

“Pens!” His voice suddenly burst out, loud enough to make you stop mid-step. “They, uh—I went to a conference last week and they gave me a ton,” he says, scrambling to gather a handful from his desk. 

You take them, your fingers brushing against his in a way that feels far too intimate. His eyes lock with yours, the touch sending a ripple of tension through you. “But you’re, uh…picky about your pens, aren’t you?” He asks, his voice softer now, almost unsure.

Laughing quietly, you say, “Yeah, but…that’s okay.” Your words are heavy with subtext you can’t bring yourself to say out loud. “Well, goodbye.” You offer him a smile, stepping back toward the door. “Thanks again.” 

“Yeah. Goodbye,” he says, but his feet shuffle forward as if he’s moving without thinking. Awkwardly reaching for a handshake, he realizes your hands are occupied. Instead, he reaches around you for the door handle, but he gets a tad too close and your brain scrambles. 

Before you can hold yourself back, you drop the pens, letting them clatter to the floor as your arms wrap around his neck. Your lips meet his in a rush, warm and soft. While your eyes close to savor the feeling, his widen in shock before he relaxes into your touch and wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer. 

It’s everything you’ve been holding back—unspoken feelings unraveling in a heartbeat. His lips move against yours with a hunger that surprises you, the world melting away as you lose yourself in the moment. You feel weightless, your pulse racing as his hands grip your waist a little tighter, as though he’s afraid to let you go.

When you finally break apart, breathless and dazed, he presses his forehead to yours, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re never gonna use those pens, are you?” he asks, his voice low and rough, like he’s trying to anchor himself in humor, trying to bring himself back down to earth.

You laugh, shaking your head. “No,” you admit, your heart still pounding. “They’re garbage.”

Before you can think, you kiss him again and this time, he doesn’t hesitate. His mouth crashes into yours with an urgency, like he’s wanted to kiss you since the second he laid eyes on you. His lips are soft, but his kiss is demanding, making up for all the lost moments between you. For those few minutes, nothing else matters—you bask in one of the greatest kisses either of you have ever had. But not for long.

Reality catches up too quickly. You pull away suddenly, breathless and wide-eyed. “Oh my god—” you gasp, backing up, your fingers graze your lips trying to make sense of what just happened. “I’m so sorry—”

“No,” he interrupts quickly, shaking his head. “Don’t be. I—” He’s stumbling through his words, just as lost as you are but neither of you regret it. “I wanted—”

“That was…” You can’t even finish your sentence. It was everything. Too much, too fast, too real. But you can’t take it back.

“I—” He’s trying to find the right words, to reassure you, to tell you he felt it too, that he wanted it just as badly. But he’s as flustered as you are, his voice rough and unsure.

“I’ll just…go throw myself off a bridge now,” you mumble. You can’t even look at him as you make a beeline for the door, your face burning with embarrassment. You think you hear him say something, but the blood rushing in your ears drowns it out.

You leave the room quickly, your heart about to burst through your chest, trying to process what just happened. The kiss lingers on your lips, a mix of exhilaration and terror swirling inside you. It’s too much to handle.

But, hey, there’s one bit of good news. At least he kissed you back. 

-

What the fuck are you supposed to do now? Drop his class? It’s too late in the semester for that. And you need those credits. Wait until the end of the semester to talk to him again? Can you go that long without his lips on yours again? 

Back at your apartment, you rummage through your books to find the university’s code of conduct, hurriedly searching for anything related to “appropriate relationships,” “faculty-student relationships,” “consensual,” blah blah blah, whatever the university has coded sleeping with a professor.

The University strongly urges those individuals in positions of authority not to engage in conduct of an amorous or sexual nature with a person they are, or are likely in the future to be, in a position of evaluating.

Your eyes read over the words, “strongly urges” once more. Not totally against the rules, you suppose. Even if you did wait until the semester was over, you’d need to report it. You wish you could talk with him about it, but bringing this up is tricky. Is it moving too fast? You can’t text him, you don’t have his number. And using your student email to send a message to his faculty email that says, “Oh, by the way, I checked the rules and we’re in the clear to have sex!” is a terrible idea. 

Maybe one kiss in his office doesn’t mean anything. Oh, but it was everything. 

-

After much deliberation, you convince yourself to attend his class a few days later. You’ve brought the code of conduct along, as well as a bright pink post-it sticking out of the book. To avoid any form of small talk with him, you wait outside right until the start of class. 

Along the way to your desk, you silently plop the code of conduct on his desk and scurry away. When you work up the courage to look up at him, he’s flipped to the marked page. Highlighted on the page is the paragraph that “strongly urges” people in positions of authority not to sleep with students. 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. The message couldn’t be clearer, he thought. You’re practically telling him to leave you alone. But when he finally reads the post-it, his heart flutters. Written in your handwriting, it says, It’s okay to fuck it up! complete with a smiley face. 

As much as he tries to fight it, he glances up at you to catch your gaze. And just as the slightest smile appears on his face, a big one appears on yours. You hide it with your palm as you start at the blank page of your notebook. Blinking, he shakes his head and begins his lecture. But how can you concentrate now? 

You’ve gotta give it to him, he delivers his lecture perfectly. If it were you, you’d barely be able to think. Hell, you barely can throughout the whole thing. 

Now that you’ve gotten that smile of permission, you finally let yourself daydream. 

Has his ass always been that cute? Has he always been that tall? Has his voice always been that deep and sexy? 

You don’t even know what he’s talking about, but that’s okay, you can always stop by his office hours. “What do you think?” He asks. 

Oh shit, he’s looking at you for an answer. He can always rely on you to keep class moving along when everybody else is dead silent. You shake out of your thoughts, panic-reading the board to come up with something. It's similar to your discussion you had the last time you went to his office hours. The time that ended in that gorgeous kiss. Throwing together an answer, his eyes brighten as he cheers, “Exactly!” 

Oh my god. He’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. You could just gobble him up. 

-

“So, I suppose we should talk about…” Professor Choi trails off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air like it’s obvious what he’s getting at. And it is. But you stay quiet. You wanna hear him admit it. You raise an eyebrow, playing coy.

You decided to press your luck by visiting his office outside scheduled office hours—right after class—to simply test the waters and gauge his reaction to the code of conduct and that kiss…that incredible kiss. 

“You know…” He gestures vaguely between the two of you, sighing like okay, fine, I guess I’ll say it. “I like you and you like me, right?” His voice dips just slightly, enough for you to notice the hesitation. “Unless I’m totally misreading—”

“No! You’re not…misreading anything,” you’re quick to say, along with a chuckle. Phew—he was worried there for a second. So goddamn cute. “What do you wanna talk about?”

He exhales a small laugh, but his smile is strained, cautious. “I want to make sure you don’t feel…weird about this.” Hand sliding nervously along the edge of his desk, he traces the wood grain before his eyes flick up to meet yours. Truth be told, he’d never do something like this with a student. Never want to make anyone feel pressured. But he never thought he’d feel like this. Giddy and blushy like you’re his first crush. 

“Why would I feel weird?” You tilt your head, genuinely curious. You’ve thought about this—about him—far too much for any of it to feel weird.

“I’m just terrified you feel like you need to do something about this.” You’re taken aback, confusion visibly etched across your face. “You know, because I’m your professor or because I’m in the department and I know your plans for a PhD here.” His voice softens, vulnerability creeping in. “I don’t want it to feel like I’m pushing you into anything.”

“I don’t,” you say gently. “It’s not like that.”

He nods, though the tightness in his jaw doesn’t disappear. “Because if you ever even remotely feel like I’m pressuring you, I want you to tell me. Immediately. I mean it.”

“No,” You shake your head, almost too fast. “I mean, it doesn’t feel like that. Not at all. I’ve thought about this…about us, a lot.” Your voice falters for a moment as his eyes widen, softening in a way that makes your stomach flutter. You weren’t expecting him to look at you like that—so open, so relieved.

His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to reach out to you. “Yeah?”

You nod again, more confidently this time. “But I think we should wait until the semester’s over. Before we…you know…do anything.”

He smiles gently and leans back, visibly more at ease. “I think so too.” 

But you didn’t realize how fucking difficult it would be to get through the last six weeks of the semester. Every class you sit there, thighs pressed together thinking about the dirtiest things you want him to do to you. Every office hour you went to, you could practically swim through the thickness of the tension between you two. 

It didn’t help how cute he was being. Post-its he’d leave on every exam of yours—You’re gonna do great! You’ve got this. Trust your instincts.—encouragement no other student got. You kept every one of them in your bedside table drawer. 

When finals week finally arrives, it wasn’t just about exams; it was about counting the hours until you could finally be with him. Or at least talk to him like he wasn’t your professor. As he handed over your final exam, the familiar green post-it note was stuck to it: Happy Finals Week! 

Your internal scream was so loud, you’re worried your classmates heard it. You’d pre-written a post-it to stick to it once you returned the exam. It had your phone number, a smiley face, and the words: Since you’re not my professor anymore. 

-

After a full day of checking your phone every twenty seconds, you started to give up. Was he just playing you? Did someone else see the note? Did he change his mind? But finally, you receive a text.

hi! this is soobin (professor choi lol). i was wondering if you wanted to get dinner or something?

soobin!! omg yes i would love to get dinner with you :) how’s tomorrow? 

how about right now? if you want, of course! no pressure we can totally wait until tomorrow it’s up to you

You squealed into your pillow, kicking and giggling like an idiot. Should you be flirty back? 

i can be ready in 30 min. 364 oakridge drive. it’s an apartment building- i’ll meet you downstairs. 

be there in 45 :) 

-

Like a perfect gentleman, Soobin meets you at the passenger door, swinging it open with a charming smile before gently closing it behind you. The slow walk up to his front door makes your stomach stir. He has to fumble through his keys to unlock it. 

Once inside, he slips his shoes off quietly, revealing cozy patterned socks that make you smile. Meticulously, he hangs his jacket on a coat tree and places his keys in a speckled clay catch-all that rests on a table next to a houseplant. As he walks toward the kitchen, he glances over his shoulder, his voice low and inviting. “Do you want a drink or something?” The warmth in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat.

You’re drawn to this softer side of him. In class, his tone is bright and dorky. In his office, it’s casual and laid-back. At dinner, it was sweet and charming. But now? Now it’s sultry, almost sexy. Like he can’t wait to be with you but would never, ever pressure you. 

“Hot tea?” You suggest with a steady voice, despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“Sounds good,” he agrees, switching on his tea kettle. In the meantime, you take a look around his much neater than expected apartment. 

The mid-century modern furniture is impeccably arranged—a sleek sofa, a low coffee table, and a stylish armchair with an even more stylish decorative pillow. Perfectly nurtured plants thrive around the room, adding a green vibrancy to the minimalist backdrop, breathing life into the space. A gallery wall above his expensive-looking couch features travel photos, beautiful art, and a few subtly science-inspired pieces. In the corner across the couch is a sleek electric fireplace underneath a huge TV. 

“Who’s this?” you ask, your heart swelling as a fluffy gray cat glares at you through one half-open eye. Her perfectly groomed fur and regal posture make her look like she owns the place. Just then, Soobin steps into the living room, holding two steaming mugs of tea, filling the air with a warm spice. 

“That’s Molly…short for Molecule,” he says. “Don’t worry, she’s sweet.” 

Extending your hand toward the cat, he starts to sniff you. “Hi, M—wait,” you pause, looking up at Soobin with a teasing smile. “Molly, short for Molecule?” He nods, his grin widening. “You’re adorable,” you tell him. Has anyone ever blushed quite like he did just now?

He stares down at his feet, clearly caught off guard. “You’re,” he starts. “Well, you’re cute too.” His sincerity makes your smile grow even stronger.

“Can I sit?” you ask, nodding toward the couch.

“Oh,” his smile falters for a moment. “Yes, of course. Make yourself at home.” You plop down on his couch, settling into the surprisingly soft cushions. Molly clearly doesn’t think the couch is big enough for the two of you, so she strides over to probably the nicest cat tree you’ve ever seen.

You sip your hot tea and your body finally relaxes. As you reach to sit it on the coffee table, he politely asks, “I don’t mean to be a square, but can you use a coaster?” 

“Of course,” you say, complying with the request. “So, tell me,” you begin, clearing your throat. “How’d I do on my final?” Humming, he stands to rummage through his messenger bag slumped over a dining chair. You gasp, “A ninety-seven?” Thumbing through the pages, you find a single red X on possibly the easiest question you’ve had on an exam since high school: What is the atomic number of oxygen? “Are you kidding me?” 

Any attempt to mask your embarrassment is impossible. It only deepens when you look up and catch him already watching you—lips pressed tight, failing miserably to hide a smug, amused smile.  

“I, uh…” You scratch the back of your neck. “I got that one wrong on purpose. You know, so as to not raise any suspicion.” 

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, did you now?” You nod. “That was on the exam just so Toby wouldn’t get a zero.” You nod begrudgingly. “And you put 10! That’s not even close. That’s—”

“Neon,” you grumble. “Yeah I know…” you say, avoiding his eyes as he laughs playfully. 

“Neon’s a noble gas and oxygen is a—”

“Reactive nonmetal,” you cut him off. “I know, okay?” You shove his shoulder playfully, but your grin betrays you. “It was a high-pressure environment. Sitting in an exam room with your professor watching you."

"I barely looked up from my laptop,” he reminds you. 

"Your presence is distracting enough," you shoot back, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Ah, so my intellectual aura threw you off?”

“I dunno…is that what you think, professor?” You ask cheekily. “Maybe it was something else.” You’ve tossed the exam onto the coffee table, moving closer. 

“Like what?” 

“Just…you. You’re distracting.” You smirk, the words slipping out almost involuntarily, like they’ve been waiting on the tip of your tongue. 

Intrigued, he tilts his head and asks, “What about me?” There’s something magnetic in the way he looks at you—like he knows the answer but wants to hear you say it, to savor the way it sounds coming from your lips. 

You hum, tracing the lines of his body with your eyes, mapping out uncharted territory before exploring it. You don’t want to move too fast, but every fiber of your being screams for more. He’s not lighting a fire inside you—he’s setting the whole forest ablaze. Sure, your imagination has been running rampant since he returned your feelings six weeks ago, but now that you’re here, he scrambles every thought.

“Your eyes…” you say while yours flick over his face, taking in every curve, every freckle, every lash. “They’re so pretty.” 

A smile—small but real—tugs at the corners of his lips. The kind that’s private, meant just for you. His eyes darken as he leans in, the space between you shrinking. You glance down, noticing the way his long fingers curl around the mug handle. There’s something almost hesitant in the way he holds it. You take it from him gently, setting it atop a coaster as quietly as you can.

“Your hands…” you whisper, fingers barely brushing his knuckles, tension coiled under his skin. They’re hands that have worked, experimented, written things down—hands you want on you. Guiding one to your thigh, the squeeze he returns sends a shudder through you. 

Everything between you is electric. Your breaths come faster now, more desperate. Every inch you move toward him is a test, a slow-motion collapse of restraint.

“Your legs…” A soft breathless chuckle escapes as you glance down. His lips part like he’s about to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. Boldness surges through you like a current and you hike one leg over both of his, straddling him. The shift is seismic. His hands move to your hips, gripping you, afraid to let go. The heat of his touch spreads through you, anchoring you in place, though it feels like everything around you is spinning.

“And your lips…” you murmur, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his. “Oh my god, those fucking lips.” You can’t stop staring at them, just a breath away now, soft and wet. Your pulse races. 

You cup his face, lifting his chin until his eyes meet yours again. His pupils are blown wide, the desire in them unmistakable. Your thumb brushes his bottom lip, and the moment stretches, suspended. You lean in just enough to feel his breath on your lips. 

“Kiss me,” you whisper.

And he does.

It isn’t tentative—it’s dam-breaking. Like he’s been starving for it, holding back for years. His lips are soft but urgent as his hands tighten around your hips to pull you closer. You taste jasmine tea on his lips, a subtle sweetness mingling with the spice of his cologne—clove, pepper, something dark and addictive. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper against his lips. “I can’t believe I had to wait so long to kiss you again.” You kiss him again and he moans sweetly into your mouth. Just as the kiss deepens, he retreats, his breath ragged. “You okay?” 

Nervously nodding, he says, “Yeah,” but his eyes flicker away. He tries to kiss you again, but you place your hand on his chest, gently stopping him.

“Wait,” you say, eyes searching his face. “What’s going on? Am I being too—”

“No,” he says, almost a little too urgently. “It’s not that. It’s just…” His hands fall to the couch. Bracing to tell the truth, he squeezes his eyes shut before adding, “I need to tell you something.” You sit back on your heels, still in his lap but giving him room to speak. 

“What is it?” You ask softly. 

“There’s this thing… I haven’t—uh…” He stumbles over the words, his fingers twitching at his sides.

“Soobin?” you ask, your voice gentle but steady. That’s the first time you’ve called him by his first name. It feels utterly…vulnerable. “Are you a virgin?” The question is delicate. Shutting his eyes again, he takes a deep breath. 

“No,” he says. “Well, not exactly.” You narrow your eyes at him. What is that even supposed to mean? “It’s just…it’s been a while. And before then, I hadn’t had a lot of sex. And I haven’t had any…recently.” 

“How long?” you encourage, your eyes softening.

“A year.” 

You hum softly in acknowledgement, watching his confidence falter. Instead of pulling back, you lean forward, trailing slow, deliberate kisses along his neck. He trembles under your touch, a soft gasp escaping his lips, your hands moving all over his body, claiming him.

“Oh, Professor Choi,” you whisper, your voice dripping with heat and promise. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”

-

As your breath slows, you sit up and let your hand linger over his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm. “Tell me,” you start. “What do you like?” 

“Um,” he swallows, trying to force the lump down his throat. He’s so hesitant but he finally says, “Touching.” 

“You touching my body or me touching yours?” 

He exhales shakily. “The first,” he says, confirming with a squeeze to your hips. 

You hum against his ear. What are you gonna do with him? Tease him forever? Let him have his way with you? You ask, “Why don’t you take my shirt off for me?” 

Gracing his hands over your arms, he grounds himself again before asking, “You sure?” 

“I’m sure.” You nod, guiding his hands to the top button of your blouse, letting him slip it through the buttonhole. One by one, he exposes more of your skin, his heart thumping harder with each passing second. Pushing the silky fabric past your shoulders until your top half is only covered by a bubblegum pink mesh bra, leaving almost nothing to the imagination—except for the red embroidered hearts over your nipples.

After easing the shirt out from your trousers, you reach back to pull at the sleeves, letting the shirt fall to the floor. He slips his finger under one of your bra straps, pulling it to the side, but you stop him. “Wait. It’s your turn.” 

Tugging on his tie, you slip it through the collar and unbutton his dress shirt. Seeing his body bare in front of you for the first time, you’re practically drooling. You indulge in running your hands all over his body, lean with subtle muscles, from his chest to the bottom of his abs. 

“How come you got to touch me if I didn’t get to touch you?” He asks innocently. 

“You’re right,” you chuckle. “I’m sorry.” You smile and sit up to press your palms against his and let your fingers intertwine. Your heart melts and you fear you may throw up. “Did you want to take my bra off first?” He nods. Fumbling fingers reach behind you to snap it off, letting it fall to the couch. As he sees your bare tits, his eyes widen and he lets out the cutest little Oh. 

He’s hesitant to do anything. You have to guide his hands to massage your tits—and they’re the perfect size for you. 

“You’re so…soft,” he says, looking up at your eyes, like he’s not sure if that was okay to say. 

“You like them?” He nods eagerly. Experimentally swiping a thumb across a nipple, it hardens at his touch while you let out a sharp gasp. 

“You like that,” he says matter-of-factly. “Can I taste?” Nodding, you lean forward, welcoming his lips. His body finally relaxes as he moans against your skin. Circling the tip of his tongue around your nipple, he’s teasing you. And oh my god do you love it. 

One of your hands threads through his hair and you stuff the other down your pants, but he grabs your wrist softly. 

“That’s not fair,” he whispers and you concede, keeping your hands to yourself. With one hand, he stuffs your tit back in his mouth while the other plays with your other nipple. His hot, wet mouth on one nipple and his teasing fingers playing with the other sends waves of pleasure through you that may send you over the edge.

If you don’t do something to ease your need, you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to take this. You resort to grinding against his hard cock, making his hips buck. 

Lifting your legs off his, you swing around to sit next to him, palming his cock over his trousers. Desperately clawing at the waistband, you unbutton and unzip his pants, encouraging him to kick them off. He stands to slip them off and as you reach for the band of his boxers, he stops you. 

“Your turn,” he whispers. And you comply. But not without a show. Standing slowly, you push him to the couch and turn your back to him. As you push your pants down, your ass looks delicious in your thong that matches your bra—mesh bubblegum pink with red trim. When you turn back, he’s fisting himself over his underwear. 

“Nuh-uh, that’s not fair,” you say. Returning next to him on the couch, you feel him over his boxers and your mouth waters. Goddamn you can’t wait for him to be inside you. “Do you have any lube?” He nods and shortly returns with a barely used tube. 

While he stays standing, you sit up on the couch, running your hands across his muscular thighs and perfect pelvis. Looking up at him, his eyes are bright, darting all over your body like he’s afraid to miss something. He fiddles with his waistband, flipping the elastic over softly. A small smile flicks across your lips before you tug his boxers down his legs, leaving trails of kisses along the way.

Encouraging him to sit down, you look down at his cock, long and hard and dripping with precum. Finally, you drag your fingertips up and down his cock before squeezing him. He moans like you’ve never heard a man moan before. Laying your head on his shoulder, you sprinkle kisses all over his skin, finding a spot behind his ear that makes him squirm. 

He hisses and—almost involuntarily—wraps one of his hands around yours to use his long fingers to guide your hand up and down. There’s something magical about someone with so little experience telling—no, showing—you what to do with his body. It’s electrifying. He hasn’t been touched in so long that he’s desperate to get off and can’t waste time with words. But no words need to be shared. His movements tell you what speed he likes. 

Snaking his other arm around you, he stuffs his fingers in your hair and clenches his fist, subconsciously tugging the strands. His lips are right against your ear, breathing rapidly and heavily and he can hardly take it anymore. You watch his chest rise and fall as he clenches your hair, moaning getting quicker, he squeaks and whines. 

Hurriedly pressing his lips to your temple, you can’t take your eyes off his cock as he shoots short spurts of cum all over his stomach. It takes a moment for him to catch his breath before he gives you a sweet smile. 

You don’t let up with kisses all over his body. Sprinkling kisses here and there while he cleans himself up with a hand towel he’d brought with him when he got the lube from his bedroom. Once he’s clean, he slouches down the couch. 

“Will you sit on my face?” His eyes are ever so sweet and innocent, like he’s finally able to test all his fantasies. “Please…” You hum like you’re only considering it, but we all know you’ll say yes. “Please, mommy?” Everything halts. 

“Mommy?” 

“F-fuck—” he sits up, ears turning redder than you’ve ever seen them—anyone’s ears for that matter. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first—”

“No, no…” you say gently, cupping his jaw to make him look at you. You can’t help yourself—you press your lips to his again and you lose yourself in his intoxicating kiss. But you break it and say, “Keep calling me that.” 

“M-mommy?” You hum. Before you give him what he asked for, you shove your tit in front of his lips. He doesn’t need to be told what to do. His plush lips wrap around your hard nipple while he thumbs the other. It feels like fucking heaven.

“That’s my good boy.” He lets out the most pathetic whimper you’ve ever heard in your goddamn life. His eyebrows furrow, looking up at you through his lashes. “Are you my good boy?”

“Yes,” he says, nodding eagerly. “Yes, mommy. Of course.” 

“Soobin,” you breathe in disbelief, dropping your head back. “You’re so sexy, I swear to god.” 

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head. “That’s you.” He smiles. “Will you please sit on my face now?” He slouches down again without waiting for an answer. “Please.” You hike your leg up to rest your foot against the back of the couch, gently hovering over him. But he wraps his hands around your hips to yank you down. As he flicks his tongue over your clit, you might be embarrassed by the volume of your moan, but there’d be no reason to. 

“I thought you said you didn’t do this a lot?”

“Well,” he takes a deep breath. “This was always what I was best at.” You chuckle. “Wait, no—” he shakes his head. “I’m good at the other stuff too. I hope.” Returning his tongue to your clit, you gasp and fall forward, bracing yourself against the back of the couch. He seizes the opportunity to get fully entranced in your taste. 

There's an impossible contrast—your body melts, muscles soft and pliant as you surrender to the pleasure but, at the same time, goosebumps prickle along your skin, sharp and electric. Warmth and vulnerability layered with a thrill that leaves you shivering, somehow both at ease and on edge.

But then he snakes his hand behind your ass to tease your asshole with his pinky. And it's overwhelming. Your knees are so weak you can hardly hold yourself up. The way his hands feel on your body, touching you in all the right places, flicking his tongue perfectly, moaning so temptingly along with the built up tension—it is so much. So. Fucking. Much. 

It builds in your stomach—teetering on the edge and god you only hope he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. But you can’t form words to tell him that. But he knows. 

And then it happens. 

You feel like you’re floating—or falling may be more accurate—as your orgasm washes over you, thighs quite literally quivering around his face as you come undone on top of him. For him. Unable to hold yourself up any longer, you roll and plop to the couch and he sloppily replaces his tongue with his fingers. You make a mental note to show him exactly where your clit is later. How is it that he found it so easily with his tongue but missed it with his hand? You guess he was right—oral is what he’s best at. Your chest heaves with your deep breaths as you come down from your high, watching him smirk at you. 

“Oh my god,” you say breathlessly. There’s a beat of silence. “What the fuck?”

“What?” He chuckles. 

“I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“I told you I’m good at it.” 

“Where’s your bedroom? This couch is too small for what we’re about to do.” 

Once he shuts his bedroom door to keep Molly out, he pulls you by your waist to press his bare body to yours and kisses you again so romantically it takes your breath away. 

“Wow,” he whispers against your lips. “You’re so beautiful.” 

“Oh my god, shut up.” You go straight back in for more kisses. But you break it— “But not literally, though. Please keep saying stuff like that.” You giggle together, slowly falling toward the bed until you’re gently laid on your back and he’s over top of you. 

“Can I, like, kiss all over your body?”

“Of course,” you say. “You don’t need to ask.”

And then he does exactly what he wants. Starting at your lips, he moves to the corner of your mouth, trailing behind your ear and down your neck. The way his breath tickles your neck sends shivers down your spine and you need more, more, more. 

As you lay there, simply basking in the feeling of him taking his time exploring every inch of you with the softest lips you’ve ever felt, you can’t help but be giddy. He’s tentative in some areas and eager in others. After he kisses the sensitive skin under your breast, he carefully observes your reaction. When he delicately presses his lips to your pelvis, his eyes flutter up to yours nervously. 

“Soobin,” you say breathlessly. He hums against your tummy, shaky hands running up your thighs. “I need you please.”

“You need me?” You nod. “Where do you need me, mommy?” You groan, arching your back, not even knowing where to start. You need him everywhere. 

“Inside me,” you say. “Please, I’ve been thinking about it for so long.” 

“Have you?” He asks innocently, using his fingers to play with the folds of your pussy so casually, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “I should be the impatient one.” But you know why he’s taking it so slow. He’s nervous as hell right now. 

Aligning his cock with your entrance, he slowly pushes himself inside you. And it's utterly exhilarating. For both of you. He falls forward, framing your face with his forearms, digging his nose into your neck. 

“Fuck…” He whispers shakily. Your nails drag down his back at his inexperienced hip rolls. “Oh my god, what are you doing to me?” Despite his inevitable desperation, his thrusts are controlled. He’s trying his very best at least. But his cock is so fucking perfect, you figure he’d make you feel good no matter what he does. Although, a little part of you thinks about how good he’ll be at fucking you in a few months after a little practice. Or lots of practice. 

He whispers swears, your name, and mommy…over and over again. Then he sits up, looking down at your body. Awkwardly fumbling as if he wants to say something, his mouth isn’t cooperating with his brain. He slowly comes to a stop, sliding out of you and barely touches your calf. 

“Can you, uh…would you mind, um—” 

"Do you wish to see me on my knees? Is that it, darling?"

“Yes, mommy…please, I’ve never—” 

“You’ve never had someone on their knees for you?” You ask and he silently shakes his head. “You’ve been such a good boy for me. Of course I’ll get on my knees for you.” You oblige to his request, turning yourself around and arching your back to give him a perfect view of your ass. He groans at the simple sight of your body. He swipes his hands over the swell of your ass, squeezing here and there. 

He clears his throat and asks, “What do I do?”

“Oh,” you chuckle lightly. “Just get on your knees and guide yourself in. Make sure it’s the right hole,” you say light-heartedly, trying to ease the tension a bit. 

But when he’s finally inside you again, it’s heaven. And he indulges in himself a bit—thrusting faster, harder, making your ass jiggle. The lewd sounds of his cock in your wetness and his hips smacking your skin makes it all the more erotic. But it doesn’t take long before—

“I like it better the other way, I think,” he says matter-of-factly. “Is that okay?”

“Of course that’s okay, babe,” you say, flipping back over and spreading your legs. And he slides right back inside you, letting his head fall back. But your tits bouncing are simply too tempting not to look at. They’re why he prefers it this way, so why not look at them as much as he can? He retreats a bit, opening his mouth like he wants to ask you something but he’s too shy. 

“What is it, baby?”

“I was just wondering if you…if you could—would you want to be on top?” His tone is genuinely sweet. “Like what position do you like?”

“Missionary’s my favorite too,” you say. “But I would, hm, I would really like to be on top for a bit.” Switching quickly, you align yourself over his cock and sink down on him so, so, so slowly, letting out a big sigh of relief. “Oh my god, Soobin. Are you fucking kidding me?” You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. The feeling stretches all the way to your toes. “I need to hump you like crazy for a bit,” you say with a chuckle. He nods like that’s perfectly fine with me, mommy. 

And you do exactly that—bounce on his cock as fast as your body lets you, relieving that built-up tension. Over the last few months, you wanted to jump his bones every time you were in the same room and that feeling never let up, like there was a tension thermometer in your body that was constantly stuck at boiling. 

But perhaps it was a bit more painful for him because an occasional rut up into you isn’t enough anymore. He holds your hips to keep you in place, fucking up into you as fast as he can. Head dropping back, he groans, your name leaving his lips. 

“Mommy?” His eyebrows furrow, looking utterly pathetic. “Let’s switch back. Please.” Hiking your leg over his hips, you land roughly on your back. Gently grabbing your hands, he pins them above your head, aligns his cock at your entrance, and slides inside you, rolling his hips so deliciously. As he kisses you, he swallows your moans. Trailing down your neck, he whispers, “Please tell me I’m making you feel good, Mommy.” 

Your eyes roll back in pleasure and you say, “Fuck, you’re making me feel so good.” 

Slowing his thrusts, he asks, “What else would you like me to do?” Smiling up at him, you rub his thighs. Waiting for an answer, he covers your collarbone in kisses, making his way back to your ear. After nibbling gently on your earlobe, he whispers, “Tell me how to make you feel even better.” Oof. Shivers. 

“Rub my clit,” you say. He sits up, fumbling with his fingers. “Use your thumb,” you giggle. “Wait.” Reaching for his hand, you let spit pool in your mouth before wrapping your lips around his thumb. Sucking on it, he looks at you like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Then he follows your instructions, rubbing your clit with his thumb while he fucks you, listening intently to every instruction, every a little to the lefts, up a little bit mores, and he never gets impatient. 

Your back arches impossibly high and you say, “I’m close, babe. Don’t stop.” You rub your own nipple, but he moves your hand out of the way, wetting his thumb with his own spit before circling it for you. 

Everything has been building to this moment. Staring at him in every lecture, longing for his touch. That kiss in his office was just the start of your addiction. Attending his office hours didn’t help, but you couldn’t stay away. You needed to be closer to him. To feel heat radiating off his body. To smell his spicy cologne. To watch his fingers wrap around his pen and wish they were wrapped around something else. 

All of it was for this moment right here. Cumming around his cock for the first time. You can’t wait any longer. There’s a white hot burning in your belly that’s getting more furious by the second. His name leaves your mouth in a yelp before fireworks explode inside you. 

Your legs shake around his waist as he fucks you through it, not changing a single thing. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you grab his wrist to stop him from rubbing your nipple to make sure it’s the most perfect orgasm you’ve ever had—not too much and not too little. 

And it’s neither. Instead, it’s perfection. You knew it would be. It seems to last forever but somehow not long enough. As soon as you finish, you miss it. 

Catching your breath, your vision clears up as you look up at him with a smile. He shyly asks, “How was that?” 

You take a deep breath and say, “Oh my god, that was so good.” Rubbing soothing strokes up and down your thighs, you can tell he’s getting impatient. But still—he’d never pressure you in a million years. 

Bending to kiss your neck again, he whispers, “Can I cum inside you?” You nod frantically. 

“Please.” 

“I have condoms if you want.” You think about it for a second. Really. You would love nothing more than to feel him fill you up. But it’s risky. “Mommy…” His hips slowly start moving again, encouraging a decision from you. “What are you thinking?”

“Cum inside me, please. Wanna feel all of you,” you say, rubbing his back. He smiles, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss that sends your head reeling. He sits up and squeezes your thighs over and over, adoring the way your body feels in his hands. Soft and squishy and intoxicating. Licking your own thumb, you pinch and rub one of his nipples, making his mouth drop open. He didn’t even think of having his own nipples played with. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he gasps. You praise him, Cum inside me, baby. You’ve been such a good boy for me. I want you to feel so good for me, okay? And he’s rutting his hips into you roughly, using your body for his own pleasure. You simply can’t get enough. You want him inside you forever and ever. “You’re…” he trails off. “You’re gonna make me cum, Mommy.”

“Go ahead. Cum for me.” Like it’s a command, his hips stutter and his cum fills you up, warm and sweet and heavenly. Swears and other inaudible words you hope are compliments spill out of his mouth. Falling forward, he digs his face into your neck once more, twitching until he comes to a stop, taking deep breaths. 

You expect a warm smile to echo his warm cum filling you up but he stays put. In fact, he doesn’t move or say anything for quite some time. So much time passes that his cock has slipped out of you on its own, his cum leaking down the swell of your ass. 

You finally break the silence, “Are you okay?” He nods awkwardly. “Look at me.” He shakes his head. “What’s wrong?” He still won’t budge. “Soobin, what’s going on?”

“I’m embarrassed,” he whines.

“Huh? About what?” 

“Calling you mommy,” he finally sits up. “I was just caught up in the moment—I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—”

“Honey,” you giggle, sitting up with him. “I told you I liked it.” 

“You weren’t just saying that?”

“I don’t think I would’ve came that hard if I didn’t like it.” 

His eyes brighten before adding, “I guess so.” It genuinely was one of the strongest orgasms you’ve ever had. Surely, he has to know that, right? But wait— 

“Was it good for you?”

“Oh my god,” he’s finally relaxed a little, peppering your face with kisses. “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had, I swear.” He stands, walking into his en-suite to get you a towel, damp with warm water. “So…” he starts awkwardly. “Should we, like, report this to the dean?” 

“Is that your way of asking me to be exclusive?” He blushes as you brush some of his hair behind his ear. “Because my answer is absolutely.” You press your lips together. “Although, can we hold off for a while? Just until next semester starts?”

“Be in our own little world for a bit?” He smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist. “You’re taking a break until next semester, right? Are you working right now?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I got a bunch of scholarships to pay for school,” you say proudly. 

“Why am I not surprised?” 

“Because I’m the smartest person you know,” you say cheekily. 

“No lectures until next semester, so I’m pretty much free.” He smiles, clearly wanting to say something more, but bites his tongue. “Can I ask you something?” You nod. “This may be moving way too fast, but do you maybe wanna spend the holidays here? With me?”

The next few weeks are a whirlwind. Both of you admit it’s too fast. But neither of you care. The fireplace roars as you decorate his Christmas tree together, wrapped presents, baked cookies, everything you could think of that ooey-gooey couples do. 

And of course, nightly sex is a bonus. You simply can’t get enough of each other. And you just about lose it when you walk into the kitchen on Christmas morning. He’s standing at the counter wearing a Santa hat, flannel pajama pants, and a black tank top making your favorite tea. 

“Ah, there she is! Good morning,” he says with a smile. You take a plate full of chocolate chip waffles from him. But not before he kisses you. Cupping your cheek, he pulls you into perhaps the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had. You can feel his smile on your lips. 

And everything feels absolutely perfect. You think you may be dreaming, but he feels so very real at this moment. And his voice is clear as day, “Merry Christmas.” 

[amiableness]

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 1247 words

series masterlist ; main masterlist

“Oh,” James pauses, his thumb hovering over his screen as he glances at the phone, his expression shifting to one of mild frustration. “It’s work,” he mutters under his breath, his brow furrowing slightly. “I need to take this.”

“That’s alright,” you smile gently. “I’ll take Henry in, and you can meet us in there when you’re done.”

“Are you sure?” James asks, his gaze flicking between you and Henry, who is gripping both straps of his backpack, his glasses slightly askew as he squints curiously at the classroom ahead.

“Yes,” you encourage, taking a sip of the coffee James made for you this morning savoring the warmth. “If you’re quick enough, I don’t think he’ll even notice.” You nod towards Henry, who is intently watching the family ahead of you greet his teacher, his curiosity piqued.

James presses a quick, hurried kiss to your forehead before stepping out of the line and heading off to take the call. Henry’s teacher greets him with warmth, complimenting his glasses and excitedly telling him about the art projects planned for the day. The exchange is brief but effective, and you can see Henry’s nerves begin to ease. He’s been uncertain about school all morning, but you and James have done your best to ease his worries, sharing stories of your own favorite memories from school to get him excited.

You barely finish telling Henry that you’ll meet the other parents before he’s darting forward, his little legs carrying him with surprising speed toward the corner of the room where the toys are. A bittersweet smile tugs at your lips as you watch him seamlessly slip into a group of kids, his small hands eagerly grabbing a toy train. All his earlier fears seem to vanish in an instant, replaced by the gleam of excitement in his eyes. 

At the back of the classroom, a table is set up with an assortment of pastries, a small sign propped up beside them: We know this may be a tough transition, so enjoy a lemon croissant to brighten your day! You smile softly at the gesture, reaching for one of the croissants just as someone else does, your fingers brushing against each other.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, glancing up at a man who looks equally as surprised as you. The pastry is now long forgotten.

“No, no, I’m the one who should be sorry,” the man rushes to say, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment as he offers you a sheepish smile. “I got a bit too excited to finally grab some breakfast and didn’t even notice you there.”

“I get it,” You laugh, holding up your coffee cup. “This is all I had time for this morning.”

“The struggles of being a parent,” he jokes, offering you his hand with a wry smile. “Aaron. My kid’s the one who looks like she’s two seconds away from crying. It’s clearly a big day for her.”

You offer your name, smiling sympathetically at the sight of his daughter, who is taking in the classroom with big, wide eyes. “Mine’s the one with glasses, who is very impatiently waiting for a turn at the train table.”

You spend the next few minutes chatting with Aaron, commiserating over the bittersweet challenge of watching your child start school. You both agree that the teacher seems wonderful—kind, approachable, and genuinely invested in the kids. 

“Daddy,” A sweet, soft voice says. “Nobody wants to be my friend.” You watch with a squeeze in your heart how nervous the little girl, Ella, you learned, looks. Aaron sighs, leaning down to talk to his daughter, and your eyes shift to Henry, who is chatting to anyone willing to listen.

You call his name, and when he glances up, you gesture for him to come over.

“Yeah, mumma?” Henry comes to meet you where you’re bent down, slotting himself into your side as he watches Ella sniffle into her dad’s shoulder.

It doesn’t take long after the introductions for Ella’s tears to dry, replaced by infectious giggles as she and Henry build towering block structures, only to gleefully knock them down again.

“Thank you,” Aaron murmurs, his gaze fixed on Ella, sitting on the floor in front of you both with Henry, before he glances at you. “I wasn’t sure how I’d manage to leave for work knowing she was so upset.”

“It was no problem,” you shrug, your voice soft. “I know today’s been tough.”

You’re so absorbed in watching Henry and Ella that you don’t notice Aaron’s gaze lingering on you, appreciatively taking you in, or how his eyes flick to your left hand, searching for any sign of a ring. But James notices. He’s just barely made it in the door after his call, and the moment his eyes land on you and Aaron, a flicker of something dark passes over his face. His jaw tightens, his posture stiffening as he stands in the doorway, feeling the jealousy pool in his stomach.

Aaron leans in, his proximity crossing into uncomfortable territory—you don’t seem to notice, though—as he points to something across the classroom. James, already tense, steps forward, irritation clear in his movements—he’s had enough of watching someone else make an attempt to flirt with you, and it’s barely been thirty seconds.

“I’m sorry, darling. The call took longer than I expected.” He murmurs, his arm slipping around your waist. The warmth in his voice makes your face brighten, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

“That’s alright.” You murmur, that lovestruck look settling on your face as you gaze at him. For a brief moment, you forget that you were in the middle of a conversation, so distracted by the feeling of James’ touch.

“Oh! This is Aaron—his daughter Ella is playing with Henry.” You gesture toward Ella before flashing Aaron a smile. “And this is James—”

“—Her husband.” James interjects, his tone sharp as he extends his hand. Your jaw drops in surprise as you turn to him, shock written across your face.

Aaron hesitates for a moment, then takes James’ hand, his expression unreadable. “Nice to meet you, mate,” he says, his voice steady, though there’s an uncomfortable edge to it.

A few minutes of brief conversation pass, and it’s clear Aaron isn’t nearly as warm with James present as he was when it was just you. Sensing the tension, you feel a wave of relief when the teacher announces it’s time for parents to say their goodbyes and head out. You and James shower Henry with kisses and smother him in hugs, reluctant to let him go, before finally saying your goodbyes.

James hopes you’ve forgotten his jealous remark, but as soon as you get in the car, you turn to him, shaking your head with an amused smile.

“My husband? How will you explain that when he finds out you lied?” You snort, glancing expectantly at James.

“Listen, love,” he starts, his tone defensive, “you should’ve seen the way he was looking at you. He checked if you were wearing a ring!”

“I don’t care,” you reply, buckling yourself in with a soft, sincere smile. “The only man I care about is you.” You hum playfully, adding, “Even if he did kind of look like you.”

James scoffs, his eyes flicking to you. “He absolutely did not,” he mutters, his tone defensive. “I’m way better looking.”When you don’t respond, he glances at you again, a hint of panic creeping in. “Right?”

please please please consider reblogging and/or commenting. it keeps me motivated to continue writing and reblogging spreads my work 🤍

[cevansbrat0007]

Hey, I do not think I have asked this before, but if I have please ignore it. I have seen on social media where the wife will ask the bf, or husband to leave the room, so they can get changed. I was wondering what would Ari, and, or Andy's response to this be?

Guessing Games

Summary: Ari doesn't like being kicked out of your bedroom. Also be sure to check out Guessing Games: A Fast Car Interlude.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Implied Future Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Discussions of Body Image, Manhandling, Discussions of Lingerie, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: I think someone actually asked me this a while ago. Maybe. I vaguely remember my answer. However, instead of rehashing that, this is how I think that would go - with a twist! Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Wisps of steam curl around you as you step out of the shower. Snagging a nearby towel, you take your time drying off before reaching for your favorite body butter, leisurely applying it all over your thirsty skin. Once you’re finished, you carefully don your robe and make your way into your bedroom. 

Of course you’re not the least bit surprised to find your bounty hunter laying on your bed, eyes closed, with one brawny arm tucked behind his head. To the average person it would appear that he was sleeping. But you knew better. 

Last night you’d promised to take a day trip with him to a classic car show that was happening a couple towns over. And, ever the early riser, your man was itching to get on the road. Which meant he was trying to keep a handle on his patience so that he didn’t accidentally piss you off while trying to hurry you along.

The last thing he needed was to be stuck in a car while you pouted for two hours. Having experienced it once before, it was definitely not his idea of a good time. 

“You were in there so long I was beginning to worry you might’a drowned.” Although his tone is deceptively light, there’s no missing the hint of impatience. 

“The hot water felt extra good this morning. Besides, it's not gonna take me long to get dressed.”

“Eh,” he sighs, adjusting his position so that he’s now sitting up in bed, his big body resting against your numerous decorative pillows. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you make a beeline for your closet. You’d already picked out your outfit the night before, which made things a hell of a lot easier. Grabbing one of your more colorful sundresses off the rack, you hold it up to yourself in the mirror.

“Well, that’s certainly a pretty little number.” Ari muses, sitting up a little straighter so that he can get a better look at your dress. “Christ, I already know if I bring you to the show wearing that, every fella in a ten mile is gonna forget all about those damned cars.”

His words make your cheeks heat. Even though you were pretty sure he was exaggerating just a tad, it still made you feel good. But just in case…

“Um…” Turning to face him, you once again hold the garment up to your chest. “Do you think I should maybe wear something else then?”

“Hell no.” He growls, tossing a pillow into the air and catching it with ease. “Let ‘em look. I don’t give a fuck about you showing off those gorgeous legs – as long as you remember you’re coming home with me.”

“Now how could I possibly go and forget a little detail like that, sugar?” You giggle, blowing him a tiny kiss which he then pretends to catch. As gruff and rough-and-tumble as your man could be at times, he also had no problem making you melt.

It was just part of his irresistible charm.

“You’d better not, baby. Otherwise I won’t be held responsible for what happens if I’m forced to throw you over my shoulder and carry you back to my truck.” He gives you a hard look before reaching for his phone, letting you know he’s not kidding.

It might sound crazy, but the longer you two were together, the more you’d begun to realize that there was a small part of you that got off on riling him up. Not all the time, mind you…

But you’d also learned that sometimes pricking your bounty hunter’s temper was well worth whatever punishment would ultimately come your way.  

Clearing your throat, you attempt to refocus on the task at hand. You needed to get dressed rather quickly so that you could spend a little extra time in the bathroom putting on your face. Even though you planned to go for a more natural look today, you still wanted to give yourself enough time to be satisfied with the results. 

However, before you did all that, there was one more thing you had to take care of. And you were better off doing so without the benefit of an audience.  

“Alright, Beast.” You hum, gingerly draping your dress across the end of your bed. “How about you give me a little privacy so I can go ahead and get changed?” 

During your latest social media deep dive, you’d come across videos of women asking their significant others to leave the room while they changed their clothes. Many of the reactions had ranged anywhere from confusion to concern. Although there had been a few who seemed not to care one way or the other. 

And while you were pretty sure that Ari would fall into the first category, there was a part of you that wanted to see for yourself. So what better time to try it than on a day where you already planned on teasing him for the next few hours anyway?

“Huh?” He sets the device on his chest so that he can give you his full attention. 

“Ari.” You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. “I need you to step out so I can get dressed.”

“Oh. Right.” Your man grunts dismissively before swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. “Guess I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

‘Wow.’ You think, cocking your head in surprise as you watch him give a brief stretch. You honestly hadn’t expected it to be that easy. Sometimes this man really was something else.

“Wait a minute – hold on.” Ari rumbles, dragging a hand through his shaggy locks. “How come I gotta go?” The roughness of his tone alone is enough to make you want to clench your thighs together.  

“Because I wanna put on my clothes.” You reply innocently, as if it should be obvious.

“And why the hell would I need to step out for that?” The tell-tale tick of his jaw and flare of his nostrils lets you know that he’s not happy.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “Maybe because I’m not really in the mood for an audience right now?”

“Baby. Swear to God.” He groans, briefly closing his eyes long enough to count to ten. “I have seen every inch of your body more times than I can count. And let me be the first to tell you, it has been the honor of a lifetime.” “I…um…okay.” You hadn’t really been expecting him to say that.

“Which is exactly why you don’t need to hide from me.” Your man continues, gifting you with a dazzling smile. “I love your curves, Bird. Love explorin’ every sweet, soft inch of ‘em every chance I get.” 

“Beast…” 

“I mean, how many men can really say that they’ve actually gone and found the woman of their dreams?” 

The sheer adoration in his eyes is enough to make your heart skip a beat. Unable to hold his gaze, you choose to look away as you work to swallow the lump in your throat. While you weren’t entirely sure what you’d done to deserve someone as wonderful as Ari, you had no plans on letting him go.

Come hell or high water.

“Seriously. No matter how you shake it, I’m a lucky man.” He gently lobs a pillow at you, making you squeal. “And I plan to keep saying it until the day I die.” 

“Jeeze.” You sniff, dashing away a quick tear with your thumb. “You, uh, really know how to boost a girl’s confidence.”

“I only care about my girl and her confidence.” Comes his gruff response. “That’s it. Everyone else can kindly fuck off.”

“Duly noted, handsome.” You tell him, suddenly feeling bashful. “But I, um…” Tamping down a giggle, you try to choose your words carefully. “I’m not kicking you out because I’m ashamed or anything. I’m kicking you out because I bought you a present…for later.” You toss the pillow back at him. It hits square in the chest before falling to the floor. “And I’m not ready for you to see it just yet.” 

“Oh, is that right?” A wolfish grin spreads across his features as understanding dawns. “Go on and lemme see. Give me a little somethin’ to look forward to.”

“I just said it’s a surprise.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“If I guess right, will you let me see?” Ari tries again, not bothering to hide his excitement as he launches himself off the bed. 

This man loved watching you walk around wearing nothing but lingerie, almost as much as he loved peeling it off of you.

“No, Ari.” You can’t hold back your laugh as you take a step back. 

“Is it red?” You’re forced to bat away his eager hands when they reach for the belt of your robe. “Maybe with a little ribbon and some silk?”

“None of your business!” You squeak.

“It’s my surprise. Meaning it’s meant for me.” Grabbing your hips, he pulls you flush against his hard chest. “Which definitely, most certainly, makes it my business.“ He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

God, he was such an incorrigible menace.

“Be a good boy and go downstairs so I can finish getting ready or we’ll be late getting to the show.” You tell him, squirming in his hold. 

“What about something tight, black, and lacey?” His voice dips an octave as his hands to the globes of your ass, giving them a proprietary squeeze. “I’m thinkin’ with a set of thigh highs and garters. You know - like the ones you wouldn’t let me buy at that shop back in Crendlewood.”

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see — stop that, damn you!” You cry when Ari begins nibbling along the column of your throat in between teasing kisses, making you giggle. 

“C’mon now, darlin’.” He rasps, his thick fingers digging into your tender flesh. “We both know I’m not gonna last that long.”

“I believe in you.”  

Undeterred, your stubborn bounty hunter decides to change his approach. Abandoning your neck, his advances move lower, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps as he does.

“It’s your fault I already have such a hard time keeping my hands to myself.” He tells you as he nuzzles his nose against the thin fabric of your robe, his warm breath making your nipples pebble. “You can’t just tease me like that without giving me a taste.”

A sharp nip of teeth has you rising on your toes, unintentionally giving him better access to his intended target. Followed by your strangled moan when you feel him release his grip on your ass so that he can undo the ties of your robe - finally revealing your nude body to his heated gaze. 

“Fucking beautiful.” He snarls reverently, making your core spasm. “And all mine.”

“Yes, yours.” You agree, nibbling on your bottom lip. “Later.”

“Now.”

“Beast.” You breathe, doing your best to ignore the slick coating your thighs. “Later.”

Grumbling under his breath, Ari levels you with a glare as he takes a step back. You didn’t have to ask to know that he was currently weighing his options.

On one hand, he really did want to go to the car show – almost as much as he wanted to unwrap you his surprise. At the same time, he also hated whenever you made him wait for a taste of you. It always made him so damned impatient.  

“Fine.” He grunts, his face looking like he just swallowed something supremely unpleasant. “I’ll go. But you gotta give me a hint first.”

“I do?” You reply, sounding both amused and exasperated.

“‘Fraid so. You either give me that or no deal.” Ari crosses his arms over his broad chest, making it clear that he’s not moving until you give him what he wants. 

“Fine.” You parrot, before spinning on your heel to retreat to your closet. “You stay put. I’ll be right back.” 

Tossing a quick glance over your shoulder to make sure he’s not looking, you pull out the gift bag you’d hidden under a pile of blankets. Digging through the tissue paper, it actually takes you a few seconds to find what you’re looking for. Clutching the item in your hand, you return to stand in front of your bounty hunter before handing it over, pressing it into his palm.

It’s a pale pink garter. That came with a matching colored bustier and g-string. A fact that your man would no doubt appreciate later. 

“Well shit, Duchess.” Ari groans, staring down at the lacey scrap of fabric in his hand. “I think I might’ve just changed my mind about this whole darn trip–”

“Nope!” You swiftly interrupt, snatching back the garter. “A deal is a deal, cowboy. Now, out you go.” 

“But what if we–”

“I will meet you in the living room.” Ignoring his protests, you waste no time shooing him out of your bedroom before brazenly shutting the door in his now-pouting face. “Go watch TV or something until I’m ready.”

“This isn’t fair.” Your grumpy bounty grouses, banging his fist against the wall. 

“I promise to make it up to you later.” You tease, allowing your robe to fall to the floor as you begin putting on your jewelry. “I might even let you take a few pictures if you ask nicely.”

“Damn it, baby!” Ari hisses as he finally heads for the stairs, taking them two at a time while he debates the best way to go about dealing with his increasingly uncomfortable hard-on. 

It was going to be a long fucking day, especially now that he’d gotten a glimpse of what you planned to wear underneath that flimsy little sundress. Opening your freezer, he wonders if it’s too early to consider icing his balls. Perhaps he’d be better off waiting until after your road trip. 

“God, I am so fucked.” He mumbles as he fishes out a half-frozen bottle of water before twisting off the cap and taking a sip. “And all because my girl has the nerve to look so goddamn pretty in pink.”

END

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[puck-luck]

have your cake | quinn hughes

warnings: overstimulation, multiple orgasms, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, coming on reader's body, subspace (not directly called that but gf is DEEP in SOME headspace) pairing: birthday boy!quinn hughes x fem!reader summary: it's quinn's 25th birthday, so fem!reader gives him the chance to do his favorite thing in bed for as long as he would like. wc: 2992

“Thank you for dinner, sweetheart,” Quinn says, bringing his napkin to his face and wiping his mouth. “And thanks for not making my birthday such a big deal.”

He had asked for such, so you were just trying to follow his wishes. The Canucks hadn’t had a game today, so Quinn had gone to practice like normal. He had grabbed a drink with Petey, Garly, and J.T. afterward as a special treat for his birthday. You know that Tocchet had asked catering to make Quinn a singular birthday cupcake, since he isn’t the biggest fan of sweets during the season.

With you, though, he just wanted to spend his time. You made him a steak, his favorite. On the side, you baked a potato and heaped a healthy pile of green beans onto his plate. For fun, you made some cheesy garlic bread, and although he doesn’t normally eat gluten during the season, he’s never been able to deny your fluttering eyelashes and doe eyes. 

He cleared his plate. He always does, but you feel especially proud of your cooking today.

“You’re welcome,” you respond. “I’m glad you liked it. Has your birthday been good?”

Quinn nods. “It was a good day. Very calm. It’s still weird without Jack and Luke, but I talked to them earlier. They called me before practice, right after they got out of the gym.” He pauses, reaching out with his palm up so you take his hand. “This dinner is the cherry on top.”

“You haven’t even had dessert yet,” you tell him. “Since it’s your birthday, you get to have your cake and eat it, too.” You’d been thinking about the pun for hours. It might not make the most sense, given the dessert that you’re going to offer him in just a few minutes, but you think you’re funny. You’re on the last few bites of your own dinner, so you want to clear your plate and load the dishwasher before you offer him anything.

“Baby, I don’t need anything sweet,” Quinn says. “I already had something today.”

You take the final bite of potatoes, then swallow. You stand, collecting his plate and stacking it atop your own. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

“What is it?” Quinn asks.

“A surprise,” you tease, winking at him as you rinse the debris off of the plates with hot water. Then, you load the dishwasher and wash your hands, drying them with the towel that hangs near the sink.

“You’re such a tease,” Quinn laughs, pretending to chide you for withholding. He stands from the table and washes his own hands, but as soon as he’s done, he takes the opportunity to get handsy with you. He dries his hands on your clothes, leaving wet handprints over your ass and waist, plus one over one of your tits for good measure.

You twist away from him like you hate the antics, but it’s just the precursor to his dessert, which he doesn’t know yet. Sure, he’s probably hoping to get laid tonight– and it is his birthday, after all– but you had other plans.

Quinn rarely gets to do his favorite thing in bed. Part of that is because you’re both busy and when you fuck, you want to fuck. You like getting to the point where Quinn’s ample cock is buried inside you, filling you with his come, all while he murmurs little nothings about “you’re mine,” “gonna put a baby in you,” or the like. 

His favorite thing is to lay between your legs and eat you out until your thighs are squeezing his head and covering his ears and suffocating him. Like you said– you’re normally greedy for his cock, even impatient (which is how he often describes your attitude in bed), but today is Quinn’s birthday.

So, if he wants to, and he will want to, he’ll eat your pussy for dessert. He’ll eat you out until he’s had his fill, no matter how many orgasms it takes. You already set two full bottles of water on the bedside table in your shared room, plus you bought some fruit at the store so that you can recharge when he’s done with you. You’re expecting overstimulation, a fuzzy brain, and maybe even tears as a result of the pleasure.

You’re prepared for anything, because you’re at the mercy of the birthday boy today.

“Go to our room,” you tell Quinn. “I’m going to bring you dessert in bed, okay? I’ll be there in a few minutes. Just let me get everything ready.”

“Good idea,” Quinn says. “Then we won’t have to leave bed afterward.”

You playfully roll your eyes at him and shoo him away, but he’s absolutely correct. That’s the whole point.

Quinn goes, blowing you a kiss just before he walks out of sight because he can’t help himself from being silly when you share a domestic evening together. 

Once he’s gone, you pretend to prepare a dish. You open and close the fridge a couple of times, you click the lighter like you’re lighting candles, you remove plates and cups from the cupboard so that he hears the clatter and suspects nothing. As you move around the kitchen, shuffling along inconspicuously, you remove your clothes. 

Underneath your normal leggings, t-shirt, and one of Quinn’s Canucks sweatshirts lies your favorite part of the outfit. You’d been planning to do this since the end of September, so you’d had plenty of time to go to Victoria’s Secret and buy yourself a black, lace crotchless teddy. Quinn will get to look up at you in the (not-so cheap) fabric and admire how it fits you without sacrificing his ability to eat you out. There’s no barrier between your cunt and his tongue, despite the fact that you’ll still be clothed.

You have planned everything out to the final detail, to the final possibility, and you might be just as eager as Quinn will be when he sees you.

So that you’ll have something to snack on when he’s done, you actually wash the fruit you bought earlier and put it in a bowl. Holding the bowl in one hand, you politely knock on the bedroom door before entering.

Quinn is already in the process of removing his shirt and getting ready for bed. When you walk in, he turns to meet you. When he sees what you’re wearing, he freezes and his lips part in surprise.

In a second, you watch his expression melt into his typical “my brain has turned off and now the only thing that I can think about is getting my girlfriend in bed” look. 

“Happy birthday, baby,” you say, biting your lip as you take in his reaction. You put a hand on your hip and pop it to the side, showing off your outfit. 

“Are you my present?” He asks, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“I’m your dessert,” you correct.

“Even better,” Quinn decides, crossing the room and getting his hands on you. 

“Wait,” You tell him.

Quinn pouts, but drops his hands to his sides. 

You give him a little twirl, revealing the way that your behind is only partially covered by the lace of the lingerie. You move slowly, giving him plenty of time to stare at all of the parts of your body, thoroughly taking you in. 

He gives you a low whistle as you turn. You touch his jaw when you’re done, then you turn to the bed. You actually crawl from the foot of the bed, giving him a show.

When you collapse against the pillows, making yourself comfortable. Quinn stares at you, walking to the bed and touching your ankle. He draws a star on your skin, surveying the view.

“What can I– what do you want me to do?” Quinn asks, eyes still raking your figure.

“Whatever you want,” you reply. “It’s your birthday.”

“Whatever I want?” Quinn repeats.

You hum in affirmation. “Your fingers, your cock,” you list. You raise your eyebrows, bringing one of your legs up into a bent position. His eyes are drawn to your core. “Your mouth.”

Quinn’s attention snaps to your face.

“Whatever you want,” you confirm again. “For however long you want. All night, even. Birthday boy.”

“I love you,” Quinn says, climbing up onto the bed and settling between your legs. “You’re perfect.”

“I expect the same kind of treatment on my birthday,” you banter back, moving with his touch. He nudges your knee, so you spread your legs for him.

Quinn doesn’t reply, running his fingers over the fabric that lies on either side of your pussy. He pushes his thumb against your clit, applying pressure but not giving pleasure, not yet.

You take it as a sign that you’re in for a long night. So, you shift and make yourself more comfortable. You look down, watching Quinn.

He’s gentle to start. He presses sweet kiss after sweet kiss to your folds, to your clit which is still hidden. He takes his time.

You’re not sure which is true: if you’re wet of your own accord, or if Quinn’s gentle licks and smeared kisses make you that way.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. You’re wet and Quinn’s getting to do what he loves. You’re comfortable, he’s making satisfied noises as he grows more eager, and everything feels good.

You touch his hair, smoothing it off of his forehead. You tilt your head, admiring him with slow blinks and a serene smile on your face. 

Quinn has a one-track mind at the moment. Until he’s drawn an orgasm out of you, he won’t look up and check in. 

His tongue teases you, traipsing along your slit and circling your clit leisurely. He’ll run his bottom lip over the skin, letting it drag along your core and create unexpectedly satisfying friction. He’ll nose at your clit, bumping his features along your most sensitive points, just because he can. Quinn’s eyes are closed, fully immersing himself in the moment.

He works his tongue into you over time, at first teasing you with flicks and short dips, but it doesn’t take long for him to grow greedy for more– greedy for your release all over the muscle. It’s then that he licks into you as best he can, using his thumb to stimulate your bundle of nerves. He repeats the same motion over and over– prodding his tongue into you, drawing it out… again and again, all the while he’s pressing against your clit.

Your first orgasm builds slowly. Slow and steady wins the race, they always say, and Quinn is drawing the orgasm out of you like the tortoise in this race. You’re starting to feel a bit jumpy, like the rabbit, your hips aching to move beneath him and grind against his face.

But, this is his birthday present. You restrain yourself because it’s his gift. He gets to set the pace. If Quinn wants to make this the most built-up, desperate orgasm of your life, he’s allowed to do so.

It takes minutes. Minutes of Quinn humming and licking and touching you with the pad of his thumb until you feel yourself start to crest over the wave of your climax. 

“Close,” you breathe out.

Quinn pays you no mind, just continuing his ministrations until you’re clenching down on his tongue with a whimper. Your hand clutches his hair, trying not to seize up beneath him as you come, riding out the waves with his tongue still poking around inside of you.

He moves more slowly as you come down from your first, withdrawing his tongue from your cunt and licking over the slick that accumulated after your orgasm. 

“Again,” Quinn murmurs. He doesn’t allow you to take a breath before he finds your clit with his tongue and latches on. 

He seems committed to making your subsequent releases quick. His mouth feels like the tube of a vacuum against your clit, unrelenting and merciless. He’s sucking, and sucking, and sucking. 

Quinn is starting to get sloppy. He’s got slick all over his lips, all over his chin. He stares up at you now, nothing behind his hooded eyes. He’s just taking you in, looking at you from his favorite angle. 

His hands are resting on the insides of your thighs, laying securely to keep your legs spread for him. His pupils are dilated, massive and dark. His jaw works– you can see the bones in his face shifting as he tastes you. His face is scruffy as he nuzzles against you.

It isn’t long until you come again, just as strong as the first one. This climax seems to hit you harder, just because it came more quickly.

“Another,” he says into your skin, shifting one of his hands to push a finger into your heat. He doesn’t move his mouth from your clit, only intensifying his suction. 

“Fuck,” you reply, halfway between a moan and a cry for… something. A break? For more?

You’re not sure. Things are starting to blur together and turn fuzzy. You’ve come twice without a moment of reprise, because that’s what Quinn wants. You’ll give him as many as he desires, until you physically cannot give any more.

You close your eyes and lose track of time, seeing stars the next time Quinn makes you come. He’s worked up to a second finger now, scissoring them and removing his tongue from your clit to shove it between his fingers. All three are inside of you, bringing you over the crest again.

Then, a third finger and his tongue on your nipple. 

Then, again, with his tongue on your other nipple. 

Another with his mouth pressing insistent kiss after insistent kiss to your cheeks, lips, and neck. 

Your vision is black, then reeling with colors like that scene in Ratatouille when Remy mixes all of those different flavors, then like television static on an old TV. 

“One more,” Quinn’s voice comes out of the darkness.

You whine, high in the back of your throat. 

“I know, sweetheart,” Quinn murmurs. He’s touching your face, wiping underneath your eyes. “I know. You’re doing so well. You’re being so good for me. I love you so much– give me one more on my cock, okay? Then we’ll be done.”

“Quinn,” you keen, opening your eyes and finding it hard to look at him through the wetness there. You hadn’t realized that the overstimulation had gotten to you so much– but that’s what multiple orgasms will do to you. That’s how you react when your body is experiencing so much pleasure that it’s painful.

“That’s right, baby, I’m right here,” Quinn assures you. You can feel his cock nudging against your entrance, which feels like it’s gaping. You’re certain that your clit is swollen from the stimulation, the excessive stimulation. He sinks into you, inch by inch, cooing quietly to keep you grounded. “You’re so close already, I can feel it in the way you’re squeezing me. It’ll be quick, baby, I promise.”

He continues to talk while he fucks you, telling you how good you’ve been. He tells you how sexy you are, how perfect. He tells you how hard he’s been since you walked into the bedroom in your dirty, pretty lingerie and how he honestly thought he was going to come in his pants when you clenched down on his fingers for the third time and a weak dribble of your cum had dripped down his wrist. 

You’re far gone. Sure, you’re there– you can feel him inside, pumping into you and throbbing against your walls. You can feel the way Quinn’s lips move over your own when he kisses you and when he speaks, feeding the words directly into your mouth. His fingers are toying with your puffy clit, and you’re sure it feels nice, but all you can feel is heat and friction.

“Quinn,” you say again.

“Let go,” he instructs under his breath. “Let go for me. Come around my cock, baby.”

You nod, agreeing to a seemingly-impossible task. 

Quinn is always able to make the impossible happen. Your final climax manifests in shaking legs and bolts of lightning in your stomach, churning and folding in on itself. Your eyes are squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners, which Quinn kisses away.

He doesn’t come inside you. After you reach your final peak, he pulls out. He jerks himself above you, continuing to kiss your face and praise you for being so good to him. He comes all over your stomach and you’re glad– if he had come inside you, or somewhere equally as sensitive like your tits, it would be far too much when the time came to clean you up. With his cum on your stomach, he’s able to wipe you down without causing you any discomfort.

When it’s all over, he helps you sit up and drink your water. He kisses your temples and your forehead, your cheeks and your jawline. He surrounds you with one of his big t-shirts, like a massive hug, and he pulls you onto his lap so that you can collapse into the crook of his neck. Quinn rubs your back and convinces you to eat some of the berries you brought into the room earlier.

You’re tired when you’re able to verbalize a full sentence again. You’re exhausted, really. Quinn pushed you to your absolute limit, although you’re not dissatisfied with the way things went. You sought a night where he could do whatever he wanted, which he did, and now you want to sleep.

“Happy birthday,” you muster.

Quinn breathes out a chuckle, cradling your jawline as you stain his neck with a splotchy kiss. “Thank you again for being so perfect,” he says. “You made my birthday so special, baby. Let’s sleep, okay? I’ll cuddle you all night long.”

Within minutes, you’re drifting off to the lullaby of his breath.

[wizashcs]

One Piece Headcanons - “You can handle it” with Portgas D. Ace, Eustass Kid and Dracule Mihawk (NSFW)

cw: fem!reader, m!dom, comfort, softcore, Kid is mean but not really, fingering, guys have a large dick and you’re just a silly girl.

Portgas D. Ace

Whenever you’re with Ace he makes sure you’re eased, and feel comfortable under his care. You can expect gentle, warm touches and long makeout sessions before you get into the nasty. You lived stressful times in the past few days. You were tensed, and it not only showed how you were a little more sensitive and even a little grumpy these days, but you felt it physically too. You were in your shared bed with Ace, he held you in his arms, spooning your back against his heating chest. He traced his fingers on your stiff shoulders, gently caressing away the tufts of your hair out of the way of your neck.

“Can I do something to make you relax, babe?” He asked, implying on a bit of a fun with his fingers running down on your chest towards the bottom of your belly. His fingers found a way to sneak under the underwear you wore, and began to carefully circle around your clit, while he pressed his heated lips against your neck, leaving gentle yet eager kisses here and there. “You stress too much, baby.” He whispered into your ear with a kiss. He nipped your earlobe between his lips, teasing you to get you in the mood. Even with so little effort, you craved more of him, encouraging him with lovely sighs he adored so much. He couldn’t wait to hear you say his name between two of your pleased breaths.

Your pulled your underwear down on your legs, so you could freely spread them apart wider for him. He smiled, chuckling while he kissed you on your cheek and neck over and over again. Each kiss felt more and more hotter, quite literally. He loved using his devil fruit power on you in the bed, and he knew you also enjoyed him playing with the temperatures of his hand and…other places of his body.

When he reached your entrance with two of his fingers, he noticed how tensed you were. You weren’t so wet yet, and he felt the tightness around his fingers, so he didn’t rush putting them in. His other hand moved to your face, gently pulling you towards him so he could see your expression. You seemed slightly worried.

“I don’t know what the matter is…” You tried explaining. “I’m never this tight.”

“Baby, I don’t blame you.” He hushed and comforted you by pressing his mouth against yours. His burning lips chained to yours, his tounge found a way to meet your tounge and embrace eachother with passion. He took it slow, almost a tease.

He parted your lips for a few moments, just so he could see your face while he starts rubbing on your clit once again. You became so wet by just a few moments of kissing. In that moment, two of his fingers reached down to your entrance again. It slipped in so easily, yet he was very careful not to cause you any pain or discomfort. When he finally pushed the last digits of his fingers in, he began rubbing his fingertips against the sweet spot of your pussy. It was his favorite part when he could watch your struggle not to become too loud because of his touches.

“That’s my girl.” He praised you before he leaned into a kiss once again. Just as his mouth, his fingers working on you began to heat up against your body that made you even more crazy for him. You moaned into the kiss, while he smiled into it as a reaction. “I knew you could handle it, you just needed a little time, right?”

Eustass Kid

Captain Kid was never known for his patience. He was reckless, rough and sure as hell one of an impatient man. When he commanded something, that must be done, when he asked something, he wanted answers, and when he wanted something, he wanted it right away. It wasn’t an exception when it was about sex with you. A slightly more cropped shirt or a fabric he liked on you in the right moment and that’s it, you were already in the tight hold of his metal arm until he threw you on his bed to make you his.

It was a similar case this time as well, you were already laying on your back against his sheets when he climbed top of you, kissing you wildly as he reclined his arms beside the two sides of your head. He bit your lower lip while you kissed, his human hand reached to cup one of your tits into his palm, massaging it roughly, yet not hard enough to cause you pain.

“I want you.” He groaned, leaning closer to you, the tip of his nose tickled your ear as he talked. “Let me fuck you… I wanna fuck you ‘til you pass out, or ‘til we both do.”

You only chuckled as a tease, and that made him even more eager to be rough with you. He quickly sat up on his knees, and he ran his hand under your skirt so he could pull your underwear down from your legs, and might as well free his manhood from his pant’s trap.

“Kid…” You moaned out his name, reflecting on his rough movements, hoping that he might slow a little down. Ha, you were wrong.

“Too late, no mercy for ya’ babydoll.” And just like that, he leaned down to you once again, attacking your lips with his one more time. His red lipstick stained marks on your mouth and on it’s corners, leaving his messy tracks on you so whenever he looks at your face while he fucks you hard, he could acknowledge it even more that it’s his work. He’s the one who does this to you. His real hand adjusted the tip of his cock to your wet entrance, pushing his way inside you without further more questions. You moaned loud and pressed your palms against his shoulders to resist. God, how is he this huge?!

“Hurts, hurts, hurts!” You warned him not to continue, and he indeed stopped, tilting his head sideways as a mean grin appeared on his face.

“Aw, are we tight?” His mocking tone made you blush and pressed one of your palms against his face to wipe down the grin of his face as a reply. He caught your hand by your wrist and pushed it down against the sheets. “Come on, I know ya’ can handle me, baby.” His voice was still teasing, but it was an encouragement in his own way. He’d never admit, but he will be very careful with the penetration, because he doesn’t want to hurt you the way you don’t want it. He tries his best not to tell you he cares deeply for you, and for your body as well. When he’s finally inside with his whole length, he’d start rocking his hips slowly, still having your arm pressed against the bed by his hand, while his metal arm reclined above your head. “There ya’ go babe… It wasn’t that hard, was it?”

Dracule Mihawk

You and Mihawk had your flings a few times, but since he wasn’t the type of man who needs it often, you barely remember when was the last time you two have seen eachother between the sheets. The Warlord had you as a welcomed guest that night, and your conversations beside a good glass of wine led you to his bedroom once again. As much as you could recall, he was always remarkable when it was about carnal desires. He laid you down on his dark-red silk sheets, nesting himself between your legs. He pulled your elegant trousers down with your panties at the same time, leaving you a little flustered.

“You’re fast.” You claimed, and he leaned over to your face to kiss your cheek gently.

“Must be the wine, or I’m just not in the mood to play with the prey.” He teased, though his hawk-like eyes told you he’d rather want to eat you alive like a hawk does to a helpless bunny, than to bed you in incensed candle lights. Though as I mentioned that you don’t do these kinds of things often, it seems like when he has the inspiration to have you in his bed, he likes taking it slow. He teased you with his fingers all around your body. His short-clipped nails traced invisible lines on your stomach, on your chest, shoulders, and down on your arms to reach your bottom parts once again. He liked kissing your body, and you liked how his moustache and beard tickled your skin, that sometimes it made you flinch. He secretly treasured those little flinches of yours.

You were both completely naked when he decided to finally stop the tease, and enter you after such a long time. Melting into eachother wasn’t something he’d do to anyone, because it means becoming one with another person in his mind, which means, you were the only one worthy for him. But oh, something wasn’t right. He only managed to put his tip in, and your expression you gave were painful, you were gripping the red silk tightly to endure.

“What’s the matter?” He asked, and you became quite embarrassed. You were wet, and you wanted him to put it in for so long now, and yet you’re the one who closed the doors.

“I- I think I’ll have to get used to your length again, darling.” You mumbled out quietly, and at first he didn’t say anything in response. One of his hands moved to your hand that grabbed on the sheets, and raised it to his mouth, so he could press a gentle kiss on top of it. He tried comforting you in his own, quiet way.

“Alright, sweetheart. We’ll take it slow for you.” He spoke tenderly, leading your hand back to the bedsheet, chaining your fingers into eachother as a matter of support. His other hand was helping to adjust himself into you, directing it slowly inside. When he felt like he can keep it in, he moved his hand under your hip, so he could raise your bottom just enough to make it easier for you to take him. With his help and care, it wasn’t even slightly painful. “There you go, my love, I knew you could handle it.”

[mommynott]

Can you PLEASEEEE write anything, fucking anything about theo like making you get off on his thigh if that makes sense, like riding his thigh while he’s preoccupied but like he still throws in some praises yk? please i’m such a slut for theo🫡🙏 I LOVE YOUR WORK ALSO LIKE BRO YOU ARE HANDS DOWN MY FAVORITE WRITER.😛🤭

Ahhhhh anon! You’re too sweet, love and appreciate you bunches 🥰

But, my god….Theo would so do this, ESPECIALLY…mafia!theo 👀

When I got your ask I was mid writing my mafia!theo fic and immediately had the idea of him on a business call for the team while needy reader got off on his thigh, so I hope you and all my other beautiful smut sluts enjoy this one!💋

Needy

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Theo’s phone call seemed to drag on so you take matters into your own hands…the neediness taking over. Little did you know how much he enjoyed to see you in that yearning state.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, CHARS 18+, mafia!theo, dom!theo, mafiaboss!theo, thigh riding, degrading, dom&sub, orgasm encouragement, praising

The phone call felt like it was taking forever, each minute dragging out longer than the last. You sat on Theo’s lap, a familiar position that felt… comfortable for you. His strong hand gently stroked your back, the rhythmic motion both soothing and tantalizing. He spoke over the phone in his deep, rugged Italian, his voice wrapped around you like a warming blanket. You found it completely irresistible. There was something about the way the language rolled off his tongue that stirred something deep within you. Fuck. It also didn’t help that you had been feeling particularly needy since waking up, the tension…the sexual need building inside you with each passing second.

“Baby…”

You whined, gently tugging at the collar of his shirt. Theo threw you a sly smirk while nodding his head in agreement from the conversation happening on the phone. A pout formed on your lips, causing him to stifle back a low laugh. You shook your head before throwing one of your legs over his thigh, essentially straddling his thigh. Your mini-skirt flowing around you, leaving your damped lace panties to glide over the material of his linen Gucci trousers.

Slowly, you began to grind yourself against him, rocking your hips back and forth. As you moved, you let your dainty hand stroke over the material of his pants, reaching to the outline of his growing length. “Someone’s being impatient, hm ereditiera?” Theodore mumbled while he swished the phone away from his ear for a split second. “Keep going. And don’t stop til your cum soaks me.” He smirked, the glimmer of darkness in his ocean eyes that you loved so much took over. Almost like it was the ocean meeting the night, a beautiful yet alluring combination.

“Y-yes baby…..gods- yes.” Throwing your hands around the back of his neck for support, Theo flexed his thigh, giving your clit that extra stimulation it needed. His free hand snaking down to your hip, guiding your moves, encouraging you to go even faster. “Atta girl…Riding my thigh like the good little slut you are…My slut.” Once again, he had pulled the phone away from his face to praise you, that smug smirk never leaving his face.

His voice seemed to go deeper as he conversed over the phone. That damn Italian. It drove you mad. His hand guiding you seemed to grind you even faster, pressing you down against him harder. “Theo….I’m-fuck! I’m going to cum-“ Managing to squeak out, Theo smacked a few sloppy kisses along the side of your neck, leaving little love bites as he did. “That’s right…keep going, amore…keep fucking going.” His lips pressed up right against your ear. Hearing the heavy breathing leaving his throat along with the muffled voice on the other end of the call. Little did they know what was going on…

“Cazzo- riding my thigh so well…such a good girl. Finish for me…come on now...don’t make me wait,” He growled against your ear once more, muting the phone call as he spoke the vulgar words to you. And that was enough, your body began to tremble, biting back your moans that oh so badly wanted to escape. Feeling your wetness drip down Theo’s thigh. The smirk on his face was ever-growing. “Fuck…” You managed to heave out, your chest rising and falling with each breath, your eyes flickering between his while the post-orgasm bliss started to blossom.

One more thing was said in the foreign language before hearing the English leave his mouth, that damn accent rolling off his tongue with ease. “Alright, I have to take care of…something. Talk soon- bye.” With that, Theo finally hung up on the dragging phone call before lifting you onto his desk. Kneeling between your thighs while he placed teasing kisses along them. “That was just your warm-up, Cara Mia….Now the real fun begins.”

Ahhhh I had so much fun writing this small little Drabble!

Dividers can be found in my master list 🌙

Requests are open loves💋

[triplefrontierbabe]

Daniel Ricciardo smau (pregnancy edition)

pairing: f! mom! reader x dad! Daniel Ricciardo

warnings: reader is pregnant, if that is not up your alley please skip, use of yn, alternate universe

disclaimer: all photos are from Pinterest and/or Instagram, I take no credit for photos

yourusername

liked by haileesteinfeld , landonorris and 789, 783 others

yourusername just checking in to say hi :)

view 1, 680 comments

haileesteinfeld omg my faves😭😭😭 you’re gonna be such great parents 🤍🤍🤍

alexandrasaintmleux congratulations Ricciardos!🤍

yourbestfriend about time !!!

lilymhe ahhh congrats guys!!! I’m so excited for you two!!💞

landonorris so this is why he was saying “I’m busy” 🙄

visacashapprb congratulations to you both! we can’t wait for a mini honey badger!

danyricobsessed bruh that should be me

↳ dric3supremacy chill tfo it’s not that hard to say congratulations

scottyjames31 looks like Daniel’s getting a head start on dad fashion

danielricciardo

liked by maxverstappen1 , oscarpiastri and 1, 680, 793 others

danielricciardo life lately

view 2, 689 comments

yourusername danny’s 40 weeks along for anyone wondering ;)

joshallenqb big dinner there eh?

chloestroll Daniel with the yoga ball is taking me out 🤣

↳ yourusername same 😭 then he was mad that his shirt was stretched out

vcarblover223 he’s so unserious 😭😭😭

landonorris pregnancy glow really showing there mate! you’re looking great too, yn

↳ yourusername thanks 😵‍💫

ilovedannyric GUYS WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE SURF PICTURE MORE

yourusername and danielricciardo

liked by alex_albon , francisca,cgomes and 3, 890, 262 others

yourusername I’m usually an impatient person, but this was so worth the wait👶🍼🧸. you’re a lifesaver Danny 🤍

view 4, 631 comments

yourbestfriend I’m crying. There are no better deserving people to be parents in the world than you two

↳ yourusername sobbing plz come over

maxverstappen1 so happy that baby is here! does the baby have Daniel’s hair though?

↳ danielricciardo unfortunately no 😔

↳ yourusername no heartburn though 🙌

texaslonghorns welcome to the newest longhorns fan 🤘

haileesteinfeld I’m already obsessed with this munchkin

chloestroll my favorite parents ever!! baby play date soon?

gerogerussell63 amazing! congrats to the new parents!

f1waggossippage Danny in his dad era 🤩

formulawagtea this baby was born to the hottest people on this earth

oscarpiastri baby’s first surf lesson when?

yourusername

liked by scottyjames31 , gossipf1wags and 1, 293, 803 others

yourusername now this, I can get used to 🤍🪽🧺

view 832 comments

lilymhe the best era yet

danielricciardo I love being able to have nap time

↳ yourusername acting like you didn’t already have one

yourbestfriend lil bean is getting so big

↳ yourusername tell me about it 🥲

tatemcrae milf

haileesteinfeld I have baby fever now

kikiay3 she makes motherhood look so aesthetic too

djrbabe Daniel napping with the baby is so deeply personal to me

danielricciardo

liked by visacashapprb, enchante and 1, 237, 793 others

danielricciardo I was told this is called a photo dump

view 1, 093 comments

georgerussell63 I made the photo dump! Let’s go!

↳ maxverstappen1 😔

↳ maxielstan not max commenting

↳ fea303 trouble in paradise

yourusername love you baby daddy 😚

landonorris gee I wonder who took the third pic

↳ yourusername you know it was really strange this weird British guy did

↳ danielricciardo had to tell security he was a threat too

↳ oscarpiastri that’s happened to me too

↳ carlossainz55 same here

fxrmula1fan universe I’ve seen what you can do for others I’m just asking for some guy to love me the way Daniel loves yn

yourusername

liked by carmenmmundt, tatemcrae and 803, 893 others

yourusername there and back home again 🛫🇲🇨

view 384 comments

yourbestfriend still thinking about that breakfast 😋

francisca.cgomes baby’s first race!!!!

haileesteinfeld the fourth pic has me in pieces 🥲

gossipf1wags apparently yn was really rude to people at the race. I always knew she was a mean person

↳ papayaluvr she literally had her baby with her, she was probably just a little frazzled

↳ gossipf1wags yeah but that’s still no excuse to be rude

↳ realsweatbaby03 were you there? yall will literally grasp for anything to hate on her. let her live

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

check out my Masterlist

check out my other Danny Ric smau

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

taglist: @ifyouaintfirstyourelastt @f1updates4you @bernelflo

[theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter]

Wrong name 👕⚽️

Ingrid Engen × reader

warning : fluffy 💭💗

(my first language isn't english, sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes)

Summary :

You decide to wear Alexia’s jersey to a match, instead of Ingrid’s.

You knew exactly what you were doing when you grabbed the Alexia Putellas jersey from your wardrobe. It wasn’t an accident, and it wasn’t a mistake. You wanted to see how your girlfriend would react. She was always so calm, composed, and never really the jealous type. With this little experiment, you hoped to get some kind of reaction.

As you slipped on Alexia’s jersey, you couldn’t stop thinking about all the different ways Ingrid could react, especially considering you always showed up to her matches wearing her name.

You walked into the stadium with a playful smirk, already imagining her reaction. The energy of the crowd surrounded you as you found your seat, excitement building for the big game. But, even as the match kicked off, you couldn’t focus on the action in front of you. Your mind was too preoccupied with how Ingrid would take this little joke.

When she spotted you from the pitch, there was a brief flash of confusion in her eyes, followed by what you could only describe as irritation. Ingrid’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, you could practically feel her thoughts from where you sat:

Really? Alexia?

As the game went on, you couldn’t help but giggle every time Ingrid glanced your way. Her performance was flawless, of course, nothing seemed to shake her focus on the field. But between plays, when her eyes caught yours again, you noticed a little frown tugging at her lips.

After the final whistle, you made your way to the players’ area, trying your best to hide your anticipation. The moment Ingrid emerged from the tunnel, she let out an annoyed:

-Really?

Cossing her arms, a mix of amusement and annoyance on her face.

- Alexia’s shirt?

You grinned, pretending to be innocent.

- What ? She’s a legend! Plus, it’s a really comfortable.

Ingrid eyes were filled with annoyance but you could still see a playful glint in them.

- I see how it is. Preferring the captain to your own girlfriend, I'm disappointed kjærlighet. (love)

You stepped closer, unable to hide your laughter anymore.

- Don’t be mad. You’re still my favorite player, but I just thought... I don’t know, maybe you’d want a little competition.

Ingrid shook her head, clearly trying to hide her smile.

- Oh, I’m not worried about the competition

She said, stepping closer until she was standing right in front of you.

- I just hope you know who you’re going home with.

Her voice was teasing, but there was an edge to it, a subtle reminder of who you were actually here for. You couldn’t resist.

- Of course I do. The best player on the field.

Ingrid smirked, finally letting her arms drop as she wrapped them around your waist, pulling you in for a quick hug.

- Good

She murmured into your ear, her tone softer now.

- But next time, wear my shirt.

You chuckled, hugging her back.

- We’ll see. I kind of like keeping you on your toes.

As she pulled away, Ingrid rolled her eyes, though you could see she wasn’t really upset.

- Just remember, Alexia might be the captain, but I’m the one you’re stuck with.

You smiled, knowing she was right.

- I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Her hands found your hips, playing with the end of the jersey.

- Take it off.

- What ?

Before you could even processe de information the jersey was off your body. Taking her jersey off, Ingrid handed you her jersey.

- Put it on

- No it's all sweety

She gave you a look that made you put it on immediately, wanting to survive till the end of the night. Once on, Ingrid took a good look at you, admiring your features.

- Better

She grabbed your hand and walked straight to the parking lot, impatient to finally get home. Alexia mouthing a "Good luck" as you pass by, having seen the all thing.

[wicchyy]

—0.3 boundary less ; james potter

sum: you and James are best friends. right? /bestfriend!James

warnings: none rly

notes: i fully believe in being best friends with james yall will not have boundaries

You’ve been friends with James Potter for as long as you can remember. Since you were in diapers, perhaps. You’d bathe and splash around in the bath with him when you were younger. Your mums were close and you’d spend almost every holiday with the Potter family. It wasn’t a strange thing for you to be seen with James after all. You’d already been apart of James’ life since day one. You knew the marauders of course, the rest of them. But you chose not to be apart of their group, deciding that they could have their own fun of pranks and troublesome adventures.

You however always sat on the couch late at night, when the boys were out doing something you’d prefer not to take part in. Then when the clock struck midnight, they’d come inside with their hushed voices and footsteps trying not to alert anyone. But you would always be there to see none other than James.

If he’d been hurt or in need of a good night hug, you’d wait just a while before your bedtime to see his face. At least if you wanted your morning the next day to be a pleasant one. He was your best friend, your lucky charm, your favorite person.

…

James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter stepped inside the commons just to see your usual presence. But this time you weren’t practicing your charms or reading a muggle book. You were tucked in nicely with a big knit blanket, hair splayed on the pillows, snug in James’ warm quidditch sweater.

“I’m heading straight to bed, boys. Absolutely knackered.” Peter whispered, patting Remus on the back and saying his goodbyes quickly.

The other joined you on the couch. Remus grabbing the book from the floor, clearly after your use. He settled on the single chair beside you and Sirius quickly joined him, planting his arse on the floor and leaning against his boyfriend’s feet. They knew James’ routine so well, knowing he’d want to spend the few moment with you and waiting up for him.

James made his few steps toward you, brushing stray hairs from your face before blowing at it. He knew it was just the thing to wake you up. Your eyes fluttered immediately, waking up to seeing James Potter’s pretty face. It certainly was a way to wake you up.

“Jamie!” You slapped his chest, straightening up your body and rubbing sleep away from your eyes. James took his place comfortable beside you, placing your foot atop his lap and smiling softly at you.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He replied, “You sure y’not tired? I’ll take you up upstairs if you are.” James always had a way of making your heart beat faster with the way he expressed his care.

“I’m quite fine. I was waiting for you guys, y’know.” You sighed softly, leaning back comfortably.

“Missed you darlin’, your loverboy here has decided on some new pranks we’d like to put in action next week.” Remus chimed from behind you.

“Mm. Remind me again, Y/n. Why aren’t you ever present for our wonderful tricks?” Sirius says in his tired tone.

James chuckles, answering for you. “Because, Pads, she’s a good girl.” He pats your knee.

You smiled at your best friend, “Yes, Jamie. I am. But also, because I prefer the solitude of the commons rather than running around and creating trouble around the castle.”

“Mhm. I thought your preferred solitude was with me.” James smiles.

You retracted your legs from his lap and changed your position to sit beside him. Thighs touching, warmth immediately radiating off him and you were impatient for him to wrap his arms around you. James took your change of position as a sign to immediately circle his arm around your shoulders. “Certainly one of my favorite.”

Remus simply smiles at you while Sirius rolls his eyes. They’ve become used to this behavior by now. The absence of boundaries between you and James’ friendship was somewhat of a regular routine for their eyes.

James dips his head at the curve of your neck, his nose prodding at your soft skin. You can feel his mouth curving up to form a smile. James breathes out a soft sigh, the feeling causing shivers all over your skin. “You smell nice, sweetheart.” He lays his head on your shoulder and your hand starts to mess with his curls.

The intimacy of this— of your friendship, was something you’d always treasure between you two. You’ve been chastised by Sirius many times as he’s told you about the attachment you and James have. How both of you had been unable to secure a significant other as you played the part well in looking so.

“Wearing your sweater, so technically you smell nice.”

“Mm, no. ‘S just you, honey.”

You laughed lightly, your fingers still messing around with his hair. He loved it as well as you.

“Oi, can you both just get it over with? Go get a room and snog or some—“ Sirius complains.

“What Pads means is that perhaps we should bid you goodnight now. He’s quite tired.” Remus cuts in, pulling at Sirius’ shoulder and getting him to stand up.

Sirius starts, but hes quickly being pulled up the staircase by Remus. “What—? That’s not what I mean, Moons.”

James waves his friends off, relaxing now that no one ought to judge him for the version of himself when he’s with you.

“Christ, I never want to leave from your arms.” James flirts.

Your fingers stop messing with his curls, but instead grabs at the arm he has around your shoulders and pulls his face closer. You set his head on your lap, his face gazing up at you.

“Sorry, Jamie. Y’know how you make my lap warm.”

James just smiles softly up at you, taking your hands to both of his cheeks. He likes the warmth of your palms that have been lying beneath the blankets and near the fireplace. “Missed you today, sweetheart.”

“You always miss me, Jamesie.”

He smiles with his perfect lips, pouting like a baby knowing that you find his ridiculous look adoring. “True. However, I only have one class with you on Fridays and I have clubs the whole day after. And I promised the boys I’d discuss forward our plan today.”

“Too occupied to see me, hm?”

“Never. I truly am sorry, honey.”

You pinched his cheeks lightly, glancing just barely at his plump lips you so badly want to kiss. “You only have time for me when it’s late, James?”

“Oh, come on. You know it’s our time when it’s late.”

True. Nights like these were reserved for you and James only. And you wouldn’t have it any other way, truly.

“I guess I can accept your apology. With only one more request.”

James smiles up at you. “Stay at my dorm tonight?”

“Obviously.” You laughed, tracing James’ soft skin with your fingertips. “I’ve got my period today, need your aiding cuddles.”

“Course, sweetheart. I’ve always got ya, haven’t I?”

James positions his body to sit up and he places a quick, featherlight kiss on your cheek. He stands up from the place in your lap. “Come on now, up you go honey. Much warmer in my dorm.”

You grab his hand and intertwine them, standing up as James envelops you on his arms.

You’d never need anyone else if you would always have James with you, just like this.

💌 thanks for reading lovie! support me by reblogging <3

[kisseobie]

more thoughts on the size training PLEASE

p1harmony and size training

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

warnings: nsfw (mdni), slight dacryphilia, tummy bulge

a/n: vivienne bff ilysm and i have seen u so many times in my inbox and coincedentally haven’t gotten to any of them except this one yet .. i promise i will answer those i’m not ignoring u i just take a while to get to everything 😭 anyways here u are 🤭

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ keeho

lovesss working out just to send you “progress photos”, which are actually just thirst traps of him that he knows rile you up every time without fail. you’ve never been quiet about how much you love when kyo shows off his muscles and just how big he is compared to you. when the two of you are intimate, he can never fit himself inside you without prepping you an hour beforehand with his fingers and tongue. the sight of kyo, hunched over and pumping three fingers into your heat to get you ready for him is certainly a pretty one. his favorite part of size training his girl is how you dig your fingernails into his bicep when he’s first sliding his length in, leaving bruised crescent moons on his skin as you try to breathe and take his entire girth, inch by inch. praises you for being such a good girl, for fitting his big cock into your tiny cunny, it comes off so condescending though that you can’t help but tear up in humiliation :(

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ theo

is aware that he’s much taller than you, but doesn’t full process how that’ll affect your dynamic in the bedroom until you’re actually naked in front of him, looking a bit overwhelmed by the size of the head of his dick alone. size training with yangie is so sweet and gentle, he’s reassuring you each and every time that he doesn’t have to fuck you if you aren’t comfortable, that he can pleasure you in other ways, but you’re always determined to take him in entirely. definitely eats you out a few times before he even attempts to thrust into you, gets you relaxed and dumbs you out with his tongue so you’ll take him easier. is obsessed with teasing you, rubs his cockhead up and down your folds without putting it in, and only gives in when you’re pleading for it with fat tears and loud whines. despite his teasing, he’s the most gentle, always sets a pretty pillow underneath your hips to keep you comfy <3

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ jiung

gets such an ego boost when you tell him it won’t fit. lovessss fingering you relentlessly while reassuring you, “see? don’t worry angel, it’ll fit” as you start to melt into his fingers. he manhandles you with ease, lets you lay across your sheets like the perfect pillow princess you are as he works his tip into your heat. fucks you with just the tip for a while, wanting to hear you beg for him to go all the way in. when you get impatient, he shuts you up by filling you all the way up, cocky smile adorning his face as he pumps into you. doesn’t verbally praise, but he holds your hand and kisses your cheeks as he continues his pace, loving the little hitches in your breaths as a result. i think ji is also very adamant on using safe words, especially when he knows it’s a bit difficult to fit himself in your heat. just wants his girl to be comfortable, cares a lot more about your pleasure than his at the end of the day :P

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ intak

has a big dick and doesn’t know it! doesn’t even really get it when he’s pouncing on you for the first time, wants to slam home as soon as he possibly can but then you gently remind him that he has to prep you first, and of course he’s giving you those puppy eyes and allowing you to guide him in doing so. fingers you so carefully, is afraid you’ll shatter like a porcelain doll hitting concrete. always has this cute focused expression on his face, almost as if you’re training him instead. once you give him the green light to fuck you, he’s constantly asking you “s this okay?”, and his genuine concern makes you swoon. once he finally sheathes his cock inside your gummy walls, he’s trembling with pleasure, but holds back until you give him the signal that he can start to move his hips. just so careful each and every time :(

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ soul

god i just know shota has the prettiest dick, so thick and veiny that it makes you salivate each time you see it. every time the pair of you fuck, you’re always left sore in the morning.. something your boyfriend makes up for with sweet kisses and hushed praises. size training with sho would be heavenly. he’s magic with his fingers, always knows when to add another digit, how quick to pump, when to circle your clit. soul would be very thorough in terms of foreplay, mostly because he loves to see you fall apart just with his hands. eventually, your boyfriend manages to fit his cock into your cunny, thrusting just slightly enough to stimulate you both, but not enough to pain you. just like intak, you would have to be the one to convince him to move, to which soul eagerly complies.

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ jongseob

ugh i can’t stop thinking about the recent photobook shoot with nerdy seob and his glasses :( can you imagine your boyfriend jongseob trying to work up the courage to ask you, his pretty girlfriend, to have sex with him? he’d even lamely tell you he did his research, read a lot of articles written by women on how to properly pleasure a girl. you’d tease him for it, sure, but when he’d drop his pants you’d be rendered speechless, shamefully ogling his dick, oozing with precum and standing tall at your attention. jongseob would be so selfless too, would ignore his painful hard on to prod at your hole with his tongue, eating you out for what seems like hours on end, proving that his “research” was in fact, very successful. when he finally starts to ease himself into you, your eyes are rolling back to your skull at the welcomed stretch, and it definitely inflates his ego a bit. fucks into you so deeply that you can see the bulge of his length pressing against your tummy :(

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @sundancearchives @chuuswifereal @seisyiss @fishsquishh @sunnyyangie @asianpenguin04 @lunepoesie @haku-s0ultrain

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ