Tumgik
#I have a feeling I know who it is but just
writersdrug · 3 days
Note
I need the bartender Simon having to escape upstairs for a few minutes just to control the monster in his pants just because of a more direct provocation from the reader
I was saving this ask and I think this is the perfect moment after Simon sees reader in his shirt, no?
Warnings: NSFW, masturbation, sex toy, pining, daydreaming about p in v sex
He doesn't dare go up to his room - even after the bar is closed, after you and Johnny are both gone, after his tasks are complete. His mind has been scrambled ever since you came down in his shirt, looking like you'd just woken up from having a nap in his bed. He knew that wasn't the case, but it was so easy to pretend. You made it easy, looking like wearing his shirt was just your typical Friday outfit. If he tried hard enough, sitting at the bar after hours, sipping on an Old Fashioned- he could imagine you were up there right now, lying stomach-first in his bed, wearing his shirt, with "LT RIELY" on your back - you weren't objective, he certainly doesn't think of you like that - but having his claim on you aroused the most primal part inside him. If only you could see what you've done. Did you even know it?
Price comes lumbering down the stairs. Simon doesn't bother to look at him; he sits at the bar, his Old Fashioned long gone, with an empty whiskey glass and the mostly-full bottle next to him. He was hoping to replace the thought of you with drinking, but he didn't have the stomach for it.
"I'm plannin' to see if Garrick wants to join the team." Price says, shrugging on his jacket. "I know he wanted to be his own man, but we could use him. Our girl's made this place quite popular."
Simon wants to spit out the words he'd just heard. Our girl. Whose girl? John's? Soap's? The entire pub? It was his name on your back. Not Price. Not MacTavish. He was the one you came to with all those receipts, numbers scribbled in the margins, trusting him to help you ward them off. Sure, you have fun with everyone, asking them all for help - but you go to him the most easily, whenever you need to feel safe. Bad customers, bad situations - you looked to him. Didn't that mean anything to Price?
He doesn't respond to his captain, choosing to stare at his empty glass instead. Price looks at him quizzically.
"Feelin' alright, there?"
Simon grunts. "Long day."
Price knows he's bullshitting him. He knows exactly what this is about. He sighs, pulling his beanie on and tucking the money pouch into his jacket. "If you want 'er, Simon, tell me to back off. Can't read your mind."
That has him pursing his lips, grip tight around the sides of his glass. He would have punched John, was he any other man. He knows exactly what Simon's thinking, yet he makes him work for it. Typical. His pride and his jealousy are fighting tooth and nail against each other, but he can barely say a word.
Price stands there a moment, waiting for Simon to speak - but he doesn't even spare the owner a glance. Bastard's always punishing himself... he thinks, sighing again.
"Bright and early tomorrow, lad." He says, heading towards the kitchen. "Lights off when you're done here." He knows Simon's capable of closing, but he repeats it every night regardless.
"Sir."
Price stops, halfway through the kitchen door. He looks at Simon, who's now staring directly back at him. There's a look in his face, something that reminds him of Ghost - the reason he became his right-hand man.
"Respectfully..." he says slowly. "Back off."
Price almost finds it comical. Like an animal staking its claim, staring at its rival - except they’re not rivals. The only reason Simon is bothering to play his captain's game, asking for permission to have what Price would happily hand over, is because he's his superior. Even if they're all retired from the SAS, no one ever really dropped the dynamics of the team.
He smiles, nodding his head once. "Understood." He says, shoving himself through the kitchen door. "But hurry up and say somethin' to 'er. I'm sick of you losing your mind during the rush."
With that, Simon hears him leave through the back door. He stays there for a moment, his mind reeling - he feels both satisfied and angry at the same time. It was a bit humiliating to tell Price to leave you for himself - you don't belong to him. But that was a problem he was going to fix. You had his name on your back-
For Christ’s sake, he’s got to give it a rest. You wore his shirt, that was all. You wore it – with no bra. Bare. Naked underneath the 141’s insignia, under his title.
And that damn bra is still in his room.
He can’t take it anymore. He unscrews the whiskey bottle and takes a few swigs, before slamming it back onto the bar top. He leaves the bottle and the glass there as he gets up, making his way across the floor, up the stairs, passing the office, and continuing up to his studio flat.
Nothing seems out of the ordinary. If you’d gone snooping, you either did a good job of hiding the evidence, or you didn’t really rifle through too much. His bed was untouched, his books and items where he had put them last – he goes into his drawers, checking to see if you had gone through anything other than his shirts. Considering everything is still where it should be, he assumed not. Though you did leave a mess in his shirt drawer – you’d been digging around in there until you found his old SAS shirt. Did you mean to do that? Were you looking for something with his name on it, just to drive him insane?
He goes back into his top drawer, muttering a curse as he pushes the contents aside. His cock is pulsing in his pants as he grabs his pocket pussy, slamming the drawer shut and heading towards his bed. He doesn't want to draw this one out - this is nothing more than a wank, just to get you out of his head. He sits at the foot of his bed and unbuttons his jeans, pulling his hard length out of his briefs – it bounces up and slaps against his abdomen, precum already smeared across the tip. He’s been hard for hours now, trying not to cum in his pants at the thought of your tits rubbing against the inside of his shirt. Do you have small, pebbly nipples? Or ones that are soft and pliant? He growls as he smears the tip of his cock against the lips of the toy, rubbing up and down the slit. He sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. You’re there, rubbing your lips on his cock, your hand wrapped tightly around his shaft as you stare up at him, licking and kissing his tip like a good girl…
He scowls and opens his eyes, sitting upright – he sees your bra hanging off the back of his chair, and he nearly passes out form how quickly the blood rushes to his cock. Pink lace, delicate and kinda skimpy… and your shirt, crumpled on the seat of the chair. You’d forgotten to shove them into your bag before you left. Or did you do this on purpose?
He's reaching out before he realizes it, slowly standing up and heading towards the chair. He wants to grab your bra, rub his cock in it until he stains it with his thick cum – but something in the back of his mind keeps him from touching it. One, it’s purely you, and he doesn’t want to ruin that. Two, he’s trying to cum. Not to cum to you. He’s doing this to get rid of your image in his head.
So, he goes for the next best thing. He grabs your shirt and sits back down on the edge of the bed. He lines himself up with his fleshlight and brings your shirt to his face; no wonder the drinks had turned it translucent, it was the thinnest fabric he had ever felt. Practically skin.
He presses it against his face and inhales: the scent of you, sweet, floral and spicy, fills his mind. It makes it all to easy to imagine that you’re sinking down onto his cock, and not that he’s stuffed it as far as he can into the toy. He groans, his eyelids fluttering shut as he pumps his hips once, then again… the tightness of the fleshlight slides over him easily, offering no resistance with the precum acting as a lube while he grinds up into it, heat knotting in his gut. The waist of his jeans hugs his thighs as he slowly and steadily pulses towards the ceiling, taking deep breaths of your scent.
He feels like an animal. Dirty, cheap, and desperate. He has to remind himself that it’s not about you, it’s about having a good wank and getting you out of his head. He drops your shirt on his chest and uses his free hand to cup his balls, groaning as he massages them. The schlick of the fleshlight around his dick is loud, the sensation borderline painful as he quickly fucks into it, curses spilling past his lips as he slams the thing down to the base of his length, catching on the Jacob’s ladder piercing on the underside, then back to the tip.
He shouldn’t, but he lets his mind slip elsewhere. What would you be doing? Would you have your hands on his chest, lips parted in a moan as you drop your hips onto his thighs, your cunt dripping and squeezing around his member…? What are you doing now? Are you still wearing his shirt? Are you lying back on your bed, playing with your breasts under the fabric and using your other hand to toy with your pussy? What do you sound like? Are you saying his name, or can you make any sound at all?
He falls back against the bed. “Fuck fuck fuck-“ he mumbles. He’s caught himself in a trap here – he can’t allow himself to indulge in the thought of you, begging him to take your hips and buck up into you – but it’s impossible to get you out of his head. Even if he could, he doesn’t think he’d be able to cum without you. He squeezes his fist around the fleshlight, groaning loudly from the pain, trying to drown out the sounds of your moans in his head… you’re always there, ever present, leaning over him and whimpering in his ear, need you, Simon, wanna cum on your cock, want it inside-
It's all too much for him, but not enough. He turns himself over, climbing up to his knees on the bed. He props himself up on his forearm, holding the fleshlight with his other hand as he ruts into it, stuffing his cock in as far as it will go, until the lips are smashed against the base. He pants and groans, mouth hanging open as he hovers over the bed; over you, holding one of your thighs up, touching his forehead against yours, watching as you’re covered in a layer of sweat, tits bouncing with each violent thrust of his hips. Both wrists secured above your head with one of his meaty hands, whimpers and whines spilling from your mouth as you struggle to remain coherent. Your cunt swallows him greedily, hugs him tightly, pulses around him, coaxes him to pound into you harder and harder, your walls twitching as slick gushes around him, your fingers digging into the back of his hand as you cry out his name, “Simon, Simon, Simon”-
He hisses through his teeth as his balls seize up, his abdomen going taut and his dick twitching in the toy. He rips the fleshlight off and grabs your shirt without a second thought, wrapping it tight around his cock and pumping it. “Gonna cum, gonna cum- fuck- oh, fuck-!” He mumbles to no one as his orgasm is ripped from him, hips canting repeatedly as cum spurts into the fabric of your shirt, leaking out around his thighs as he thrusts into it, thighs aching from the exertion. He bites into his hand and growls as he continues rutting, fighting through the overstimulation to chase what remains of his high – but he soon collapses on the bed, huffing and groaning into the mattress.
His orgasm fades slowly, his heart ramming against his ribcage and the fog clearing from his head. Realization sinks in as he’s hyper-aware of your shirt, still wrapped around his dick, now soaked in his cum. He'd have to wash it, now. Filthy doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels, but he doesn’t find it in him to care anymore. He rolls onto his side, clutching your shirt in his hand. Fuck. One quick tug was all this was supposed to be, and now, he’s picturing you lying across from him. Face flushed, lips swollen and eyes hazy, smiling at him and panting. Telling him you love him. He’d say it back a million times. Listening as you breathe, as you talk about your silly little ideas for the pub, for redecorating his room… craving the moment where you drag yourself closer to him and snuggle into his chest for the rest of the night.
He hasn’t gotten rid of you, like he hoped for. He’s only made it more clear: he wants you. He wants his life to be threaded with yours, he wants to wake up next to you, he wants you to change his routine, to pick up his broken pieces and make a mosaic – and he wants to be there when you need someone, he wants to give you everything you want and more, whether that’s a life up in the clouds or down here, in his arms, in his small bed and lackluster apartment. You’d make it better; you’d make anything better.
He sighs, slowly sitting up and on the edge of the bed. Price was right – he’s got to hurry up and say something to you, or else he’ll be drowned in his obsession. You’d either agree to take this fucked-up giant on a date and end his misery, or you’d reject him, and he could force you from his thoughts and replace you with misery. It’s worked before.  
He pulls off his jeans and shirt and grabs the fleshlight, standing with a grunt and walking into his bathroom. He’s planning to clean the toy, but if he waits long enough, he might just be fucking it again in the shower.
2K notes · View notes
mywritersmind · 3 days
Text
WINNING KISS - LN4
Tumblr media
summary : lando isn’t used to being a human mirror, but when a pretty girls tells him to hunch down and let her fix her lipstick in the reflection of his glasses, he’s more than happy to oblige.
listen up : no warnings!!
word count : 750
⋆。‧˚⋆
I can practically feel the music through my veins. The lights of the club are flashing and my friends are laughing and swinging shots back.
I won today. Singapore has been fucking amazing honestly. Besides the whole drowning in sweat thing.
“So…” Max Fewtrell claps a hand on my shoulder, “Taking a girl home tonight, winner?” He teases me as I roll my eyes and sip my drink, “What- You too tired?” he fakes a frown. I didn’t really want to go out tonight but decided it’s sort of a one in a lifetime thing.
“Go find your girlfriend, idiot.” I eye him.
He throws up his arms and laughs, “Gladly!” As he walks away I feel a hand on my shoulder, spinning me around. I’m surprised who did it had such force for being so small.
A girl stands in front of me, a pencil in hand and for a second I think she’s going to ask for an autograph, “Bend down a bit!” She tugs on my shirt and I do as I'm told because I'm genuinely so confused and the pretty girl means business.
She takes the sunglasses from my head and pushes them over my eyes, looking directly into them and bringing the pencil to her lips.
The ‘pencil’, I now realize, it’s a makeup product and deposits a dark color to her lips as she uses me as her mirror.
As she’s stood in front of me, my eyes can’t help but analyze her. This club is stuffy and smoky but she’s so close I can see everything she has on.
She’s got messy brown hair, silver jewelry, a mini skirt, a fur jacket, and a white corset top. Something about her feels magnetic. She’s stunning.
My eyes go to her lips which she smacks together before pulling out a proper lipstick, as she runs the makeup over her lips I start to smile a bit. She finishes quickly and doesn’t pauses as she starts to place the makeup back in her back.
I slide the glasses down to hang around my neck, I see the recognition appear on her face, “Shit.” She says confidently, “You’re that guy!”
I laugh a bit, standing up straighter and looking down at her, “Nice to meet you too.”
“Sorry! Everyone’s been talking about you today!” My tongue runs over my teeth, smiling a bit, “Thanks for being my mirror. And- congrats, I guess?”
“Thank you. And no problem, I’d never deprive a pretty girl of her lipstick rights.” This makes her laugh and fuck I want to keep her laughing.
She gets a look in her eye, her arms behind her, and her eyes staring up at me, “Well I appreciate it. Like it?” I look at her lips again and I’m beginning to think this is a trick just to make me want to kiss her.
“I do. It suits you.” Her lips pull into a wide smile and she steps a bit closer. “You know- people are talking about me for a reason.” I say, building myself up a bit.
She squints, “Right… A win?” I nod, “You’re celebrating then?”
I nod again, “A bit boring though… if only there was a girl to make my night better.”
She scoffs, “Suppose you want a winning kiss then?” I eye her, sipping my drink once more. My eyes flick to her lips but she doesn’t stop looking at me.
“I mean- your lipstick would look great on me.” I say smugly as she stops herself from smiling, humming and nodding.
“Would it?” She says into my ear, the club getting louder with the music.
“Suppose we’ll have to check and see.” I say in her ear this time and when I pull back, I can tell she’s trying to figure me out.
She hums again, leaning in close and slipping her hand onto my neck. Her cool rings practically sting my hot skin. She turns my head slightly, I feel her stand taller to softly kiss my cheek.
When she pulls away, I’m smirking again, “Let me get your number.” I don’t even ask it as a question.
She pulls the lipliner out of her bag once more, uncapping it with her teeth and taking my arm. She scrolls the numbers slowly against my arm, holding me close.
When she’s done and there’s red numbers up my arm, she closes the product and smiles kindly, saying “Congratulations, winner.” before walking away.
1K notes · View notes
toadtoru · 2 days
Text
MOVIE NIGHT
pairing: suguru geto x fem! reader contents: smut, mutual masturbation, getting interrupted (not caught), cockwarming, pet names (pretty girl, my girl, baby), he calls you slut once wordcount: 1.7k
MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT
Tumblr media
Your best friend, Suguru, who tries to convince you to let him fuck you while Shoko and Satoru are out getting snacks. You’re sitting on the other end of the couch, frowning at him, while Suguru merely smiles at you, urging you to come sit in his lap. 
He looks so fucking good it’s almost infuriating. Half of his hair up, the other falling down his shoulders, wearing just sweatpants and a black t-shirt. 
“Sugu, they’re gonna be back soon, we can’t,” you say, trying to send him a stern look. Suguru sighs and adjusts himself on the sofa, spreading his legs and allowing you to see the growing bulge in his sweats. He’s big already, and he’s not even fully erect. The sight makes your face grow hot, and Suguru knows you’re flustered but he just chuckles.
“C’mon, pretty,” he says, tilting his head to the side. “Come sit,”
You swallow nervously, but nevertheless, you crawl towards where he’s sitting on the sofa. Once you’re close enough, he grabs your forearms and pulls you into his lap, directly onto his length. He ignores your squeak of surprise as his hands settle on your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your sides. 
You’re still pouting. Despite the fact that you came to him willingly, you can’t help but feel like you’ve been roped into this. Suguru hums in satisfaction, and a hand comes up to stroke your cheek. 
“There’s my girl,” he says, leaning in and kissing the corner of your lips. 
My girl. 
His words make heat pool in your belly, and you melt slightly, placing your hands on his shoulders. One of his hands squeeze your tit through your shirt, the other toys with the hem of your sleeping shorts. 
In Suguru’s opinion, you look like a perfect little gift for him. He’s been plotting this ever since you came down to the living room in that dangerously small pyjama, nipples poking through the fabric and shorts hugging your ass just right. He noticed Shoko and Satoru eyeing you as well. Satoru’s face grew positively flushed, and Shoko’s lips curled into a smile. Getting them to leave to get snacks wasn't very easy. 
But now you’re here. In his lap. Alone. 
And Suguru just wants to push those tiny shorts to the side and stretch you out on his cock till the only thing on your mind is his name. 
“We don’t have enough time,” you mumble, trying to keep up some resemblance of resistance. Suguru hums, eyes dropping down to your crotch as he begins to rub circles right over your clit. Your breath hitches, and your hands on his shoulders tighten their grip.
With his other hand he pulls up your shirt, watching your tits spill out. He cups one with his free hand, rolling his thumb over your nipple, while he leans down and sucks on the other.
“Suguru,”
The way you say his name is more of a moan than a warning. Your hips grind down on his thumb, chasing friction, and Suguru doesn’t even try to fight the smile making its way onto his face as he pulls back to watch your reactions. 
“We can be fast,” he says. You gasp when he pulls the crotch of your shorts to the side and runs his fingers through your folds. “You’ll be good for me, right?” he asks, and you nod, any coherent thoughts already turning blurry. 
“Say it,” Suguru says, and you pout when his fingers deftly avoid your clit, instead merely stroking you. 
“I’ll be good, Suguru. I promise,” you reply, and Suguru grins. His cock is hard and leaking in his boxers now, aching for attention. You eye the bulge and reach down to stroke him through his sweats. Suguru rewards you with a thumb on your clit, and begins rubbing methodic circles into the sensitive bud. You close your eyes and rest your head on his shoulder as you grind into his touch. 
Suguru decides to add a finger, pushing in and feeling your walls constrict around him. You let out a shaky breath before slipping your hand into his boxers and freeing his cock. You eye his length and a small whine leaves you at the sight. Suguru is thick. So thick and so big that the thought of having him inside you makes your cunt gush around Suguru’s hand. His tip is red and flushed, and pearly drops of precum collect around his head. 
You hesitate for a second, and Suguru notices. He kisses the crown of your head before gripping your hair with his free hand and pulling your head back to look at him. You gasp, and Suguru chuckles before giving you a chaste kiss on your lips. 
“Spit on it,” he says, and you do immediately. Suguru hums, rewarding you with another finger, and your hips stutter against his hands. His fingers are so long and thick, able to stretch you out much better than your own. 
You wrap a hand around his length, pumping him and mixing precum with spit, making the action smoother. Suguru groans and throws his head back as you use both hands to stroke him off. His ministrations on your cunt momentarily stop, and you watch his face contort in bliss before beginning to move your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers. 
Suguru’s brows knit together at the sight. Do you even know how sinful you look? What your actions do to him? Your eyes are lidded, glazed over as you pout at him, your expression begging him to ruin you. Your hands on his cock are clumsy, uncoordinated, yet he wouldn’t have it any other way. You squeeze his base, and Suguru has to stop himself from coming early.
You’re practically sin incarnate. 
“Look at you,” his voice is a mix of lust and disbelief. His eyes fall to where your hips are swirling in circles on his fingers. “You were so hesitant a second ago. What were your words? We can’t, Sugu,” his tone is teasing.
“Now you’re fucking yourself on my fingers like a slut.”
You whine, and Suguru decides to add another finger for good measure. The stretch burns a little and sparks fly through your body, making your toes curl. At this point you’re far too fucked out to answer his mocking words. 
“I haven’t even put my cock inside you, and you’re already cockdrunk.”
“Shut up.” Your retort comes out weak. You’ll never admit it, but you love it when Suguru is mean to you. It makes slick pool in your panties every time, this time being no exception as your cunt gushes, coating Suguru’s hand and fingers. You’re close.
So close. 
Suguru knows too. His lips curl into a smile, and he thrusts into your hand, hoping to reach his orgasm at the same time as you. You pant and lean in to kiss him. 
“I want to come,” you murmur, your lips ghosting over his.
“Yeah, pretty girl. You wanna come just from my fingers? Make a mess?” 
You glare at him, though Suguru hardly feels threatened. Your hands stroke his cock more diligently before one comes down to fondle his balls, and you run your thumb over his sensitive tip with the other. Suguru’s hips stutter, and his thigh twitches. He can practically taste his orgasm, and he can tell you're tethering on the edge too by the way your walls flutter around his fingers. 
“We’re back!”
You hear the front door open and Satoru’s sing-song voice as he rambles excitedly about the candy he chose. You fly away from Suguru’s lap, immediately tugging his cock into his boxers again, before jumping off his fingers and settling beside him. You adjust your clothes, pulling down your top and putting a blanket over you. 
Suguru blinks. He looks down at his now painful erection before adjusting himself, so it’s harder to tell. He silently thanks himself for wearing black sweats, hiding the wet patch from where you sat just moments ago. 
He looks up at you. You look dishevelled if anything, but you hide it well. His fingers are still covered in your slick, and he keeps eye contact with you as he brings them to his lips and sucks them clean. You gape and shift uncomfortably. He can tell you’re rubbing your thighs together, trying to soothe the ache that you’re no doubt feeling. 
Satoru walks into the living room, holding bags and more bags of sweets. Shoko strolls behind him. 
“I tried to stop him, but it was useless,” she says, motioning to the amount of candy in Satoru’s arms. You giggle, slightly more high-pitched than normal. 
“What movie are we watching?” Shoko asks, plopping down beside you. Satoru grabs the remote and starts talking about a movie he’s been wanting to watch. Suguru pulls at your blanket. You glare at him and Suguru pouts. 
“I’m cold,”
“Find your own blanket.”
“But you have one right there.” 
“There’s not enough for both of us!” You huff, and Suguru sighs, pretending to think. 
“Ah, I have a solution,” he says, promptly grabbing you and pulling you into his lap with your back against his chest. You squeal as Suguru wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you there, while the other adjusts the blanket to cover you. 
Neither Shoko nor Satoru bats an eye, instead arguing about the movie—Shoko thinks Satoru’s pick is stupid and Satoru thinks it’s perfect—leaving you at Suguru’s mercy. You can feel him throbbing against your ass as he pulls out his cock again and slips your pj to the side. You tense, but ease up when Suguru presses a kiss on your shoulder. 
“Relax,” he murmurs. “We’ll just sit like this,” he presses his cockhead against your cunt and pushes in slowly.
“You promised you’d be a good girl right?” You try to keep your face neutral, thankful that neither of your two friends is paying attention.
“Yeah,” you breathe, digging your nails into his arm around your waist. Soon, he’s buried to the hilt. You’re stuffed—stretched obscenely—pussy throbbing and leaking around his pulsing cock. 
Suguru kisses the crown of your head.
“There you go, baby,”
It takes everything in you to relax and rest your head on Suguru. Suguru wraps both arms around you, one slipping under your shirt to squeeze your tit before settling around your waist again. Satoru turns off the lights and starts the movie, all four pairs of eyes settling on the TV screen. 
You take a breath. It’s just two hours. Two hours sat on Suguru’s dizzyingly big cock. You can handle that.
Yeah.
For sure. 
Tumblr media
thank you for reading!
🏷️ tags: @kisstoru @hiraethwrote @interconnectedmatrix @s-vila @gojouology
@kaskc @dearest-yeosang @sebastianlover
masterlist | dividers by me
2K notes · View notes
hueseok · 2 days
Text
it was always you.
Tumblr media
for as long as you remember, you’ve always had the fattest crush on your childhood friend, jeon jungkook. it never blossomed into something more though, because that’s what happens when life naturally takes it course—you grow up, you move on, and you pretend that those feelings never existed in order to maintain the good friendship that remained between the two of you over the years.
so when he visits you after work one day, asking you to marry him, you do everything you can to refuse, because the reason he’s asking you isn’t due to the fact that he finally realized that he loved you after all this time, but because he thinks he’s doing you a big favor.
or at least, that’s what you think.
Tumblr media
pairing: jungkook x reader
word count: 13.2k
rating: 18+
content: fluff, semi-angst, childhood friends to lovers au, pining au | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + brother’s best friend!jungkook; professor!reader + editor!reader | inspired by purple hearts
warning/s: swearing, potentially wrong medical & military information (i’m sorry but i tried to do as much research i can 😭), mentions of having type 1 diabetes, making out, heavy petting, implied sexual content: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (this is only fiction!)
Tumblr media
MINI PLAYLIST: ♫ die with a smile — lady gaga, bruno mars ♫ juno — sabrina carpenter ♫ selfish — *nsync ♫ nandito na ako — benj pangilinan, angela ken
Tumblr media
opening note. omg this is my first full length fic in two damn years i think??? certainly took a long time before i had the motivation to write again but i hope y'all like this! to my og readers who still keep up with my shenanigans, this one's for you 🥹💗
Tumblr media
“Any questions?”
A boy wearing half-rimmed glasses raises his hand and you gesture for him to speak. “Can we get an extension on the Save the Cat project due tomorrow?”
You sigh, just as several of your students begin agreeing with him and muttering reasons of their own why the extension should be approved. It’s the week before finals, and you’re aware that the class must be packed with assignments and projects for several of their classes because of it, hence the rather last minute request. They look tired and pleading, a complete reflection of how you were when you were the one in their position nearly a decade ago, begging for an extension from a professor who you thought was kind enough to be swayed with the proposition.
You scan the crowd. “How many of you are at least 70% with it, hm?”
More than half of the class raises their hands.
“Okay, that’s honestly unexpected,” you say, pleased to know that they aren’t slacking on your subject. “Does Monday sound good? That’s three more days, to be fair. I don’t want to extend it further because I have to read everyone’s work and you guys know I don’t like rushing it before turning in your final grade.”
A chorus of relief and thanks echoed in the room, all of your students either dramatically sinking in their chair or erupting in an animated conversation with their seatmate or making crying faces to portray how grateful they are.
“Thank you so much, Ms. ____!”
“I love you, Ms. ____!”
“Ms. ____, I will offer my first child to you,” one theatrically adds and you smile a bit, rolling your eyes at students like this one who is now opting to flatter you way too much for your act of kindness.
“Alright, alright. Just get it done and I’m expecting quality work, okay? Class dismissed.”
The whole class begins to gather their things at the cue and you don’t stay there a minute longer after your announcement, exiting the lecture hall to head to the faculty room where you’re certain half of the teaching staff have gone home already. It’s already 8:47 p.m., and all you want to do is head home to get the rest you deserve after an eventful day.
There was a time that having a schedule from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. wasn’t the norm for you. You used to value work life balance so much—it was even a nonnegotiable you used to say in interviews, saying that if you didn’t get enough rest within the week, then the job most likely wasn’t for you. But things have been very different for the past months; you have definitely grown out of that mindset due to the fact that you’re simply in need of another source of income to pay for your monthly rent, utility bills, and now your medication. You’re in a stage of your life wherein you consider working part time as a professor was a blessing rather than a big nuisance.
Making a right turn to where the hallway to the faculty room is, you’re too busy rearranging the papers inside the folder you’re holding to notice a man sitting on the bench placed just beside the entrance. He notices you the second you appear in his line of vision though; he straightens his posture and proceeds on standing up immediately upon seeing you closer, calling your name softly when you failed to look at his direction, too preoccupied with the thought of finally coming home that you’re oblivious that the man trying to catch your attention is Jeon Jungkook.
“____,” he calls again and this time you notice him, your eyes widening instantly.
“Holy shi—” You stop yourself from finishing that sentence. “Jungkook?”
He grins. “Hey, lamb chop.”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Is that how you greet an old friend?”
“Oh, fuck off.”
He laughs, following suit to you who’s already giggling just by his presence alone, outstretching his arms then. “You gonna hug me or what?”
You beam and step forward to embrace him. He returns it without hesitation, muscular arms circling around you and squeezing tightly that it lifts you up from the ground for a quick second. The faint smell of fabric conditioner on his clothes enters your nostrils and you feel like a teenager again, warmth rushing to your face while your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Regardless of how old the both of you are, you think your hopeless crush on the guy will forever live on and constantly transform you into a middle school girl whenever opportunities like these to have him near arise. You’re just happy you’ve trained yourself to be better at hiding it now compared to when you were younger.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in base or wherever it is that you’re designated?” you ask, the first to let go from the hug.
“Actually, I returned from deployment three days ago. I’m on leave for two weeks.”
“Wow. Two weeks, huh?”
“Yep. It’s the longest break I’ve gotten in a while.”
“That’s good. Everybody needs a break from time to time.”
“Says the girl has a day job and a night job.” He points out with a smirk; your heart does a little leap at how handsome he looks doing that. “When the hell did you get into teaching, by the way? I never pegged you to be the kind who can tolerate it. You hate kids.”
“You’ll find yourself tolerating lots of things in this economy.” You snort. “And my students aren’t kids. They’re in college.”
“Yeah, which you graduated from six years ago. Still technically kids.”
“Are you seriously jabbing at my age when you’re two years older than I am?”
He rolls his eyes at that one, an indication that you won the argument. “Anyway,” he starts again and you grin, “I didn’t come here to compare how old we are—”
“You didn’t?”
He sends you a look. Your grin gets even wider.
“I’m here because I was hoping to treat you to dinner.”
“Dinner?” you repeat, not masking the surprise from your voice.
Let’s get the facts straight before we proceed to this conversation.
It isn’t a lie when you say that you and Jungkook are great friends. You have been since you were 7 and your family just moved into the house next to theirs. He was a natural playmate, a companion when you couldn’t tolerate the antics of your older brother, the boy who looked out for you aside from said older brother, and the person you’ve shared significant history with throughout your youth that you can never seem to forget nor disregard.
It’s just that you never deemed that you were great enough friends for him to go out of his way and visit you at your workplace, offering to treat you for dinner. Gestures like that were reserved for your older brother, Seowon, who’s the same age as he is and who you’re sure is considered as his best friend. Compared to them, yours and Jungkook’s dynamic shifted slightly after graduating from college. What once was a really close friendship turned into a casual one, with mostly just teasing, light talks, and the occasional welfare checks at times you hear certain news from the other that’s worth speaking directly about.
At the mention of that, realization dawns on you on why he must be here.
“Jungkook…” You’re trying not to sound mad but you can’t hide the exasperation from your voice. “That’s not the real reason you’re here.”
“Of course, it is. Why else would I be here?”
“He told you, didn’t he?” you ask, not willing to drag this out. “You’re just going to give me another lecture that I definitely don’t need.”
Jungkook frowns, like he’s dismayed that you caught on pretty swiftly.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” You pressed.
“He meant well, ____.”
You scowl. To remark that Seowon is unnecessarily nosy and coddling would be an understatement. That man hasn’t left you alone the second he was aware of your condition. Usually, whenever he gets into his ‘big brother tendencies’, his girlfriend Winnie steps in and helps you lay him off your back. However, it’s different this time; no matter how much you reinstill your independence and insist that you’re fine, it’s like you’re talking to a wall.
“What exactly did you hear from him?” you query.
He seems hesitant in answering that. “That you got diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.”
You wince.
“Look,” he steps forward towards you, “I wasn’t going to bring it up unless you did, okay? I’m just here because I’m genuinely worried about you and I want to know how you’re doing.”
“I’m fine.” You murmur. “You don’t need to worry.”
“Worry doesn’t vanish magically just because someone says so.”
“Well, it should—because I’m fine.”
“You sure? I heard that you’re struggling to buy insulin among other things you’re having a hard time paying.”
“Fuck. Seowon told you that too? That’s private.”
“My parents know. He just filled me in because he wants you to have as much support as you can get.”
“I don’t need that. I’m an adult. I’ve lived by myself for years. I can fend for myself just fine.”
“It doesn’t look like it from what I’ve been hearing.”
“All you’re hearing is a warped and exaggerated version of the story told by Seowon who won’t listen to a word I say.” You huff. “I’m fine and I’ve been doing everything I can, alright? I’m taking care of myself. I’m going to the doctor whenever I need to. I’m making ends meet, buying treatment for this goddamn disease and regulating my sugar levels all the fucking time. Why do you think I’ve been working two jobs for the past year? It’s because I’m doing everything I can to stay alive.”
Jungkook doesn’t reply, he only remains gazing at you.
“If you’re here to offer me money or whatever because of what he said,” you add, already embarrassed that you can’t even look at him anymore, “then I don’t want it.”
“That’s not what I’m here for,” he says.
“Then are you really just here to treat me to dinner?” you question sarcastically.
He laughs and you dare return your eyes at him, catching him peering at you with a fond expression. “Yes. It’s my way of doing a welfare check.”
“Welfare check.” You echo with squinted eyes. “Well, in that case, here I am—alive and healthy.”
“I can see that, and I’m glad.” He smiles. “But I need more than just seeing you. I need a conversation and an apology.”
“An apology?”
“For being the last person to know about your condition.”
“And we’re still talking about that apparently.” You mutter under your breath. “Sorry. I didn’t think that you wanted to know.”
“Of course, I would have wanted to know. It’s you we’re talking about here.”
Something about how he said you causes your lips to twitch as you fight off a smile. This isn’t a good time to dive into your romantic feelings for your childhood crush, but when he’s letting go of lines like that which are sure to have your heart soaring out of your chest, it’s hard to keep on a cool and unfazed facade. You just convince yourself that he sees you as a little sister and that’s why he’s so worried; you should already be past your ‘delulu’ phase at this age to be affected by such statements.
“I didn’t want to add to your worries,” you reason. “You already have your life to think about. Add to the fact that you’re a naval aviator—so you literally have your own life first to think about.”
“I can make space for you.”
Is he flirting? Is this a normal thing to say between friends?
You blink. “Okay, uh, that’s… that’s completely up to you, I guess.”
“I just like knowing those things first hand. It makes me worry less.”
“Got it. Next time I learn I’m dying, I’ll tell you.”
“____,” he says your name in warning, and you know he’s serious.
“Sorry.” You heat up. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Don’t be a pain in the ass.”
“I promise that’ll be the last time I make a dark joke, Lieutenant.”
Jungkook’s nostrils flare. You prevent yourself from grinning like a fool again in success of getting on his nerves.
“Are you done here? Because I’m hungry and would really like to get going now.” He changes the subject and gestures to the faculty.
“Yeah. I’ll just get my things and then I can get out of here.”
“Great. You’re letting me take you to dinner, right?” 
“Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
“Fine.” You deadpan.
This time, he’s the one who’s beaming at you. “I’ll wait for you here and we can go.”
“Okay.”
****
When Jungkook discovered that you had type 1 diabetes through a phone call with Seowon, he spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, ignoring the snores of his squadmates and overthinking what’s supposed to happen to you now that you had an autoimmune disease which he was told didn’t have a cure. He was assured that you were okay despite it, that there was medication to treat it, and that you had access to them and have been very careful with your lifestyle due to the diagnosis ever since.
He still couldn’t be put to ease though. As ridiculous as it may sound, he had this overwhelming realization that life truly was short, that you had to make certain decisions all the time because you need to adjust to what the universe is only willing to give you. It was funny coming from a person who risked his life for a living. He thinks that perhaps he never understood the philosophy of the quote ‘time is gold’ until he had a loved one on the same trajectory, always one step closer to possible death.
And so that same night, he decided to file a leave for two weeks, effective immediately after his deployment. 
He wasn’t sure what his game plan was exactly in filing that two-week leave. Was he supposed to barge in your life and force you to let him take care of you? Was he supposed to demand why you ended up having diabetes? Was he supposed to act as a big brother like your actual big brother because he was that worried about you? But if Jungkook was going to be truthful, he already had an idea on what he wanted to do in the back of his head—he just didn’t want to execute it because it was absolutely insane.
Until he heard Seowon suggest it himself when they met up at a bar to share a drink together.
“She would never say yes,” Jungkook said, beyond doubt that you won’t be persuaded that easily with a plan like that.
Seowon made a face. “I know. That girl is so hyper independent—she’d rather die than accept help.” He scoffed. “She needs it though. It’ll help with her medication and she won’t have to pay rent for that shit apartment she’s living in. Plus, she'll actually get the chance to take care of her body if she’s not juggling two jobs to have sufficient income.”
“You’re right.” Jungkook shrugged.
“You’ll do it then?”
He took a sip of his beer. “Yeah. I’d do anything for ____, you know that.”
“Even as crazy as marrying her?”
“Sure.”
Seowon stared at him, narrowing his eyes and morphing his expression into a teasing one. “Are you sure you’re not just considering this because it’s a perfect excuse to marry my sister? I know you like her.”
“I don’t like her.” 
“You’re in love with her.”
“I don’t—” Jungkook began to deny but Seowon was staring him down. “Fuck you, man. Don’t make me some kind of pervert who’s trying to lock her into marriage because he likes her. You’re the one who brought the idea up.”
Seowon laughed out loud. “I know, I just can’t believe you’d agree. It’ll benefit ____, that’s for sure—you, on the other hand? It’s career suicide.”
He shrugged. “I’m okay with the thought that she’ll be okay.”
“Because you love her, man.” Seowon pushed. “Why on earth would you consider this if you weren’t? It’s a fraudulent marriage. You’ll be thrown in the brig and be dishonorably discharged if you get caught.”
“We don’t even know if she’ll agree to this whole thing. You said it yourself, she would never say yes.”
“Yeah, unless maybe you’re the one who tries to persuade her.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to buy her a ring and kneel down before her or something?”
“That can work.”
“What?” Jungkook laughed.
Seowon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how she’s been crushing on you since we were kids.”
He barked out a laugh again. That he knew; it was impossible not to when a lot of friends and cousins kept on teasing you before, especially at instances Jungkook was in the very same vicinity. “We’re not kids anymore and I barely see her though.”
“Still, it ought to count to something. It raises the chances of her agreeing.”
“You’re really cool with me marrying your sister, Won?” Jungkook asked.
Seowon placed down the beer bottle he’s consuming on the counter. “Yeah. You’re a good guy. You’re not perfect, but I know you enough to know that you won’t do anything that will purposely hurt her. Besides, if this sham marriage ends up to be a real relationship and then for some reason, you fuck up and decide to break her heart—I’ll easily know what to do, where to find you, to fuck you up.”
Jungkook pressed his lips together to stifle a chuckle.
“Noted.”
****
It’s always been a big wonder to you how no matter how long it’s been since you saw each other, it still feels like no time has passed between you and Jungkook. You think that’s why you can never get over him; he always had this comforting and familiar aura that you appreciate—something that you sought for in every other person that you liked. Maybe it was impractical, maybe it was the reason you can never hold a relationship for more than two years, but unless you gain the courage to confront your feelings and tell Jungkook about it, then you constantly dispel any doubts you might have whether this was good for you or not.
You don’t want to lose him. Admitting that you harbored romantic feelings for him would just make it awkward for everyone: your brother, your family, and then his family. You don’t think you can ever trade his smile, the sound of his laughter, and all the good things about him for anything in the world. 
“Are you dating anyone?” he asks.
You choke on your drink, having just poured yourself and Jungkook a glass of water after the server arrived with the pitcher. You’re in a Japanese restaurant near the university, aware that the cuisine was a favorite for the both of you hence why it’s what you recommended when he asked where you wanted to dine. The place is packed with people from the workforce and students; you’re thankful that you don’t see any of your students within the mix.
“We’re getting straight to it, huh?” you say.
Jungkook smirks. “I’m just making sure I’m not upsetting a boyfriend by meeting you tonight.”
“Don’t worry, you’re not upsetting anyone.”
He nods in understanding. You don’t want to add more meaning to his actions for the evening but he seems glad about the information.
“How about you?” you ask back. “Are you dating anyone?”
The ends of his mouth lift a bit upwards. “Nope.”
“Why? You don’t have the time for it?”
“Precisely.”
“It must be really hard dating when you’re in the Navy then.”
“Kinda. We’re away a lot and stationed in different places most of the time. It can get really dangerous for us too and people don’t like the stress that comes with that.”
 You bob. “Does it get lonely?”
“Sometimes, but when you’re on duty, you don’t get to think about those things.” He chuckles. “Besides, I don’t know if this sounds fucked up or not—but it can get exciting. Flying a plane can be fun, you know. Not to mention that it helps when you’re surrounded by good men in your squadron.”
“You’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”
“And you’ve always been a scaredy-cat.”
You scoff at the declaration. “No, I’m not.”
“Remember when Seowon and I forced you to ride that ship in the amusement park that sways left to right and as it goes on it falls from a higher standpoint?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But you do, and Jungkook knows you do, it’s evident by how your expression is trying to feign innocence. That memory is your villain origin story; the whole pretext of why you refuse to ever visit the amusement park or ride an exhilarating ride again. Yet you can’t help but recall that it’s one of the rare instances wherein you got to hold Jungkook’s hand when you two were younger, as his hand was the one you were clinging for dear life when it happened while the other was too busy slapping Seowon in irritation.
He snickers, appearing like he’s replaying the scene in his head. “We should do that again with Seowon during my break.”
“Hell no.”
“I thought you weren’t a scaredy-cat?” He challenges.
“I’m not.” You give him a kittenish glare. “But I am busy. I have to send the final manuscript of this book I’m editing to the chief editor next week and it’s about to be finals week for my students as well.”
He fakes a shiver. “I don’t know how you can do two jobs like that, ____. Truly.”
“You work as a naval aviator so I’d say we’re pretty even.”
The waiter arrives with your orders not long after, and you and Jungkook carry on with your conversation, jumping from topic to topic without difficulty. You’re not certain when was the last time you saw each other like this to have so much to talk about—was it last Christmas? Or was it more recent or longer than that? Nevertheless, it feels good and you find yourself blushing multiple times throughout the night, whether it’s because of how his words can have two meanings or how his eyes are staring at you so intensely whenever you’re the one who’s talking.
You like the undivided attention, the back and forth that’s occurring as you discourse, the subtle touches one of you does when something funny arises, how your knees are touching underneath the table. You wonder what’s so different with this encounter that the energy feels so bizarre in a good way? As far as you’re concerned, you’re positive that you’re acting like you always have in his presence—lively, smiley, sarcastic—and aside from the little touches of flirting here and there, Jungkook’s acting like he always has too.
When dinner was done, Jungkook offered to drive you home. You obliged, no longer in the mood to annoy him for you were tired to make the effort. Before stepping outside the restaurant however, you excused yourself to the restroom first, checking your blood sugar with the glucose meter you brought along wherever you went. It’s a hassle but it’s necessary, largely because you’re still in the middle of saving up for the insulin pump that would help you regulate your sugar levels easier.
After administering yourself with the insulin injection you have, you spend a few more seconds inside the enclosed room. You should be past the point of feeling sorry for yourself, but it’s times like this wherein you’re with a loved one that the dejection hits and you wish that you’re in a better predicament than you are right now. You’re close to being broke, you’re overworked, you’re somehow fatigued all the fucking time—those factors aren’t soothing your worries at all. It’s a miracle how you manage to keep an optimistic mind amidst everything.
“Ready to go?” Jungkook smiles at you once you’re back at the table and you nod, clutching your bag tighter against your body and following him to his car.
He drives you to your place, turning the radio on, and letting it play while the both of you sit in silence. You’re both tired and you almost even sleep during the ride. It’s only when Jungkook gently shakes you awake that you realize that you’ve arrived in front of your apartment building.
“I’ll walk you up,” he insists as you’re unbuckling the seatbelt. 
“That’s no need, Kook.”
“Of course, it is,” he says. “I’ll walk you up. That’s nonnegotiable.”
So, you allow him.
It takes five minutes tops to reach the door leading to your apartment. As you rummage through your bag to grab your keys, Jungkook patiently stands there, occasionally glancing around the hallway and even smiling when the old lady that resided in the same floor got out of her room to throw out the trash. He receives a smile in return which you notice and grin fondly at.
“Well, this is me.” You turn to him, done unlocking your door. “I’d invite you inside but you should probably get going. It’s quite a long drive back home.”
“Yeah.” He breathes out a chuckle. “Hey, tonight was fun. It made me realize how I missed you.”
Your brain temporarily malfunctions; you force yourself to recover quickly. “Me too. I had fun tonight. Maybe we should do this again whenever you’re on a break.”
“Agreed.”
You flash him a smile. “You can go now. Goodnight.”
Jungkook nods, however doesn’t move a muscle. He’s looking at you, like really looking at you, his eyes moving from one feature to another, as if he’s memorizing your face or having a hard time arranging the words he wants to say. You guess it’s the latter, familiar with a tongue-tied Jungkook that it takes you a few good seconds before you’re demanding why he’s impersonating a mannequin.
“There’s something I want to say,” that’s what he utters and you almost snort due to your assumption being right.
“Okay…” The smile is still on your lips. “What is it?”
“Promise me you won’t get mad first.”
“Well, if you’re making me promise that then it’s probably worth being mad about.”
“It’s not as bad as you think.”
“That’s not convincing at all.”
“It’s just…” He begins and trails, biting his lower lip, “it’s… it’s why I went here. Why I went here to see and meet you, I mean.”
You unconsciously recoil at the revelation. It’s certainly a rookie mistake to believe that there was no ulterior motive in Jungkook meeting you today. You just didn’t reckon you’d actually be truly disappointed at that—at the idea that he just didn’t randomly decide to visit and be with you earlier until now.
You draw a long breath. “Well, I knew you weren’t just feeling generous and wanted to treat me to dinner out of nowhere.”
There’s a pause and then he resumes. “Just—before I say it, you have to hear me out, okay? You have to let me explain before you berate me.”
“I can’t promise that either.”
“You have to.”
“Why do I have to?”
“Because what I’m about to say is for your own sake. You know I always have your best interest at heart, don’t you?”
You wrinkle your forehead in further confusion. “Can you just get on with it? The vagueness is making me more annoyed.”
“I just don’t want you to misunderstand.”
“Misunderstand what?”
“What I—and Seowon—genuinely think is the best option.”
“Oh, and Seowon is in on this too?” You bellow. “Have you and Seowon just been conspiring behind my back the whole time?”
“Calm down.” Jungkook puts his hands on your shoulders, a chuckle inevitably escaping him. “I’m sorry for dragging it out. You should know I’m high key afraid of you, that’s why.”
“You should be.” You grumble.
Another chuckle, but he’s back to appearing anxious. You want to shout that this isn’t healthy, that you’re close to giving him a real reason to be afraid of you—yet once he blurts the confession out, you’re speechless, gawking at him and staggering backwards in complete shock. Perhaps you would have bolted as far away from him as possible if not for his solid grasp.
“What?” You hiss.
He swallows hard.
“I want you to marry me, ____.”
You don’t bolt away running. You shake off his hold on you though, and before he gets another word in, you’re hastily rushing inside your apartment and slamming the door to his face.
****
Jungkook was your first kiss.
It happened in a game of truth and dare. You were at a party of a mutual friend and when the bottle miserably pointed in Jungkook’s direction, the person who was tasked to think of his dare when it was his pick said that he dared him to do 7 minutes in heaven with you. 
He profusely refused at first, especially since Seowon was in the same party, but everybody began booing and next thing you know, Jungkook was agreeing as long as it was fine with you. When you nodded to make your consent apparent, your friends were quick to shove you both in the closet, some of them pulling Seowon back who was complaining how it wasn’t right to bully you into doing 7 minutes in heaven with Jungkook. They calmed him down once they bullied him into agreeing too.
“We don’t have to do anything,” Jungkook told you in the darkness, his breath fawning over your face. “You don’t have to feel pressured. It’s just a stupid game.”
You blushed.
Secretly, you were hoping that he’d kiss you or touch you. Who didn’t want to do anything with their crush at the age of 15? A lot can happen in 7 minutes. You were aware that sometimes people made out, went as far as third base, and although you didn’t want to go that far with Jungkook, you wanted something to happen while you were stuck in this small closet with him. There weren’t a lot of instances that put both of you in this kind of situation; you wished that you were brave enough to ask him to kiss you or do the first move yourself.
5 minutes in, Jungkook turned towards you.
“Is it true that Taehyung kissed you last week?”
You whipped your head so fast that you might have given yourself whiplash. “That’s—that’s not true. Where did you hear that?”
“During homeroom. Some girls were talking about it.”
Your cheeks burned. “Oh.”
“So, it’s not true?”
“No.” You shook your head. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” You laughed weakly.
It was his turn to seem stunned. “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?”
You shook your head again, then realized he might not see you doing so. “Not yet.”
“Want me to change that?” he asked, grinning.
He said that with a boyish grin and teasing tone, but you sucked at social cues (plus, you really couldn’t see shit that much) that you started nodding.
“Okay,” you told him.
“Huh?”
“You can kiss me.”
“Oh, oh, shit—I didn’t—” He was blabbering, about to take back what he offered. “I mean, I was just joking but—”
You widen your eyes. “You were? Oh my God, I’m sorry, I thought you were—”
“No, it was my fault. That was a little out of line for me. I’m sorry.” He was laughing and you felt like burying yourself 6 feet under. “It was a stupid thing to say. But if you want me to kiss you, it’s cool.”
“It is?” Hope sparked within you.
“Yeah. It’ll just be a peck anyway.” You can tell he was smiling through his voice. “Just don’t tell Seowon because he might punch me in the face for kissing his sister.”
You cackled. “Deal.”
56 seconds before the 7 minutes were up, Jungkook leaned down to match your level and placed his lips on yours. 
****
You’re seething with rage, the embodiment of Godzilla, channeling the God of War, Ares, in your body; you harshly press Seowon’s number on your phone to call him and he answers after three rings.
“What’s up?”
“I will fucking murder you,” you snarl.
A beat. You hear shuffling. Then he answers, “you already talked with Jungkook?”
The nonchalance and calmness in his voice drives you to be more frustrated than you already are. “Yes, I have! What is wrong with you? Why would you plant that idea on his head?” You yell, not caring that your walls are thin and that your voice can probably be heard by the couple that lived next door. You’re feeling a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and every negative emotion that exists at the moment. You’re comparable to a bull who just saw the color red.
“____, it won’t be a big deal if you don’t make it to be.”
“Are you hearing yourself right now?”
“Did you even let Jungkook explain?”
“I don’t need him to spell everything out. I know why he’s asking me to marry him.”
“Then you know too that it’d be good for you.”
“Marrying him won’t be good for me.”
“Why not?”
“It just won’t!”
“You’ll get health insurance benefits that you don’t get with your current jobs. You can pay less rent once you move in at Jungkook’s place—there’s a huge chance he won’t even let you pay him while you stay there too. He’s away most of the time anyway, so staying there wouldn’t be a problem. Plus, you can start studying for a masters degree like you’ve always wanted.”
You groan. “Not like this. This is crazy.”
“The both of you can divorce once you’ve saved up a little. It really isn’t that complicated.”
“It’s a sham marriage!”
“It’s a sham marriage with Jungkook.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“Are you sure? Your grade school diary might disagree.”
“Oh my God, that’s fucking low of you to bring that up. You just gave me another reason to hate you.” You stomp around the living room, acting like a teenager because of your brother’s behavior. This isn’t the first time he revealed that he’s read your diary before; that doesn’t mean it’s less infuriating to be reminded that he has. “I swear, you better fucking sleeping with one eye open tonight. I’m choking you to death.”
Seowon laughs out loud. “Just marry him. He’s surprisingly amicable with the idea.”
“That’s because you’re pressuring him! I bet you and Mom devised this entire thing together.”
“Mom doesn’t know. To be fair, she’d probably have the same reaction as you. It’s all me and Jungkook.”
“Wow. You have two brains and yet none of you thought this was goddamn stupid?”
“It’s not stupid. It’s genius if you come to think of it,” he says. “Jungkook just wants to help you, dude. He wants to make sure you’ll be okay and all that shit. You’re the reason he filed for a two-week leave, did he tell you?”
Your heart does that jumping thing again. “No.”
“Well, he did. He’s on a break for two weeks because he wants to convince you to marry him and actually marry you within that time frame.”
“This is nuts.” You sigh, finally flopping down the sofa and rubbing your face with your free hand. “The both of you are nuts. How are you okay with this?”
“It’s Jungkook. I trust him. Don’t you?”
“Of course, I do, I just—” you cut yourself off and frown, “I just feel like it’s unfair for him. I’m marrying him because of military spouse benefits and what does he get?”
There’s a long pause, and you almost check your phone to see whether Seowon has already hung up on you or not.
“It’s better that Jungkook answers that question,” he tells you finally.
“Why? You can’t answer it on behalf of him?”
“Something like that.” You can imagine him shrugging. “All I know is that he’s genuinely concerned about your health and your financial status right now. So, just think about it, okay?”
“God, fuck it, fine. I’ll think about it.” You grimace.
You hang up and glance at the door.
You don’t think the conversation you just had with Seowon took that much time. The initial rush you had upon having your longtime crush propose to you is wearing off and you’re realizing that it was a dick move to literally slam the door right in Jungkook’s face earlier, leading you to stand up from your seat and look through the peephole to check if he’s still there.
He isn’t, which you sigh in relief at.
As you lean against the door and regulate your breathing, you think how funny it is that Seowon is right about one thing—and that was grade school you would have been delighted at the thought of getting married to Jungkook. He’s your dream guy; your parents loved him, his parents loved you, the both of you got along very well, and his personality and looks are everything that you’re looking for in a partner. It sucks that you live in a world where the only reason he wants to marry you is because he’s afraid you’ll die because of self-neglect. 
Your phone pings and you unlock the screen to look at the message that flashes on it.
Jungkook: hey, seowon just messaged me to say that you two already talked Jungkook: i’m sorry for jumping on you with a topic like that… Jungkook: i’m shit at confrontation lol Jungkook: also it’s the first time i’m proposing so give me some slack
You scoff at his audacity to joke about it this soon.
You: it’s okay You: i’m sorry too for what i did You: the answer is no btw
Jungkook: already??? Jungkook: let’s talk about it first
You: no need You: i don’t want to marry you
Jungkook: oof that’s harsh
You: sorry not sorry?
He doesn’t respond and you think you’re safe. Maybe Jungkook does take no for an answer and you’re confused because you’re a little disappointed that he’s not falling on his knees, begging you to marry him like what your imagination is supplying you.
However, after you took a shower and went to check your phone again, you see that Jungkook messaged you a few minutes ago in response to your last message.
Jungkook: give me 10 days and i’ll change your mind
You have the urge to go take a shower again because of how hot your body is feeling at the statement.
You: hate to break it to you but you’re not matthew mcconaughey
Jungkook: 🤣🤣🤣
****
It’s not part of Jungkook’s branding to chase a woman. Typically, women chase him; they chase him in every city and country that he gets stationed in, flirting with him and hoping that they’ll get the chance to take him home for the night for a mindblowing one-night stand. They never succeed though, for despite their pretty faces and sultry gestures, Jungkook only smiles and declines every offer, saying that he had a girl waiting back home that he loved very much.
He used to think that he only used that as an excuse because he’s not the type to hook up with every attractive girl he meets. There are times when he succumbs, when he gives into the temptation of a little fun, especially after a life threatening or highly stressful mission—but most of the time, he thinks he declines and use that pronouncement of his because his mind reverts him to the idea of you, to what would happen if he just gained the balls to ask you out.
Evidently, although asking you out and asking you to marry him are two completely different things, he’s a bit afraid that your answer will always be a hard no. It’s what you’ve been literally spelling out to him since the day he presented the idea, regardless of how he’s trying his best in swooning you or explaining how this is the perfect plan to help you gain an upper hand with your diagnosis.
“I’ll file a restraining order against you, I’m serious,” you say to him when he appears yet again outside the faculty room, waiting for you to gather your things and head home. You’re wearing a white button up shirt and pinstripe wide leg trousers, an outfit combination that he ogles at before he goes down to business.
“You wouldn’t.” He glares at you. He gestures for you to let him take your backpack, and despite what you said, you let him. “Also, what the fuck is in this thing? You’ll break your back if you keep using this.” He swings your backpack on one shoulder.
You laugh. “My laptop, its charger, a couple of notebooks, books, pens, then the outputs of my students.”
“Aren’t they supposed to submit virtually? What happened to Google Classroom?”
“I still use it, but sometimes I like to have their work printed out so I can write the comments better. How do you know Google Classroom?”
“I have a squadronmate whose kid uses it for class.”
“Ah.” You nod in understanding.
You two continue walking forward.
This has been your program for the past few days. Jungkook goes to the university you work at, he’ll wait outside, you’ll threaten him with something ridiculous, he’ll take your bag, he’ll offer to take you to dinner, you’ll decline, and then he’ll drive you home anyways. Before that routine ends, he’ll lean on your door frame and give you his best puppy eyes, asking you to marry him for the sake of your welfare, and you’ll scowl at him, insisting that you don’t need his help to survive.
“Dinner?” he asks, right on schedule.
You glance at him. “No. I want to go home and sleep for 12 hours.”
“Busy day?”
“Yep.”
“You know, if you marry me, you won’t have to work two jobs and overexert yourself.”
He doesn’t need to turn to you to know that you’re giving him a dirty look. “I won’t marry you, Jungkook.”
“Why not?”
“Because marriage doesn’t work that way.”
“It does. Billionaires do it all the time. The mafia does it too. It’s always been some kind of transaction.”
“Well, if I marry you, what do you get?”
“The assurance you’re taken care of.”
“That’s cheesy.”
You share a laugh and he grins.
“It’s true,” he says. “I’ll be fine as long as you are.”
He waits for you to quip back a reply, flickering his eyes to you when it takes longer than usual. Instead of the sneer he’s expecting, you appear to be flustered, an expression that is very recognizable for him who’s known you since forever—an expression that makes it too obvious for Jungkook that the crush you had on him that he thought has been long gone was still there. He’s been seeing it a lot lately, particularly when he’s uttering lines that sound flirtatious on purpose; he’s positive that you’ll threaten to kill him when you discover that he basks on the fact that he can still make you all flustered and cute, which encourages him to do and say anything that would elicit a reaction from you. Was it unethical to seduce you into marrying him? He might have to rethink that part too.
Reaching the parking lot, he unlocks the doors to his vehicle and places your bag inside the backseat. He watches you walk around the car, about to go to the passenger’s side, but then you wobble a bit and his attempt to get inside is instantly forgotten.
“Hey,” he strides to where you are, gazing at you as you now hold onto the hood, “you alright?”
You raise your chin up. “Kook, can you get my bag?”
Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s swinging the door again and getting your bag from the other end of the backseat while you get on the passenger’s seat, keeping the door wide and placing your legs outside, your feet planted on the concrete.
“What do you need?” he asks, crouching in front of you and zipping the bag open.
“Glucometer.”
He halts. “What does that look like?”
“It’s in the yellow bag. There.” You point at it right when he rummages through a certain part.
He brings it out and you take it from his grasp. Your movements are sluggish but he can discern that you’re doing your best not to be too slow; he’d present to help but he knows that he might prolong what you’re doing due to his cluelessness, so he just observes, noting how you’re pricking your finger with a device and then pressing it lightly to the glucometer which shows that your blood sugar is low.
“Blue bag,” you mutter to him and he finds it faster than the last one.
It’s the insulin this time. You grab the unopened syringe, rip it out from its packet, insert it to the vial of insulin—then your hand shakes, preventing you from continuing.
“Let me do it,” he says.
You don’t fight him, you just slump against the seat as Jungkook picks up from where you left, and the moment he administers the insulin through your shoulder, a huge and long exhale escapes you.
“How are you feeling?” he whispers. He didn’t notice that he was holding his breath the entire duration of the scene.
Another sigh. “Better.”
“Does this happen a lot?”
You seem to hesitate. “Not a lot. Just when life gets a bit too hectic.”
“____—”
“Just take me home.” You don’t give him the chance to lecture you. “Please, Jungkook.”
Defeated, he nods. “Alright.”
“Thank you.”
He helps you position yourself properly on the passenger’s seat. “But we’re talking about this at your place.”
Before you can protest, he closes the door.
****
Lee Hyunwoo was the name of the guy that you brought home for Christmas Eve eight years ago. It was the first time that you did, and Jungkook hated how Hyunwoo was considerably handsome, intelligent, and kind—the exact kind of person he always imagined you deserved.
In the short time Hyunwoo spent with theirs and your family that night, everybody loved him and was already inviting him to the next gathering, all the while Jungkook avoided him at every cost, puzzled by this strong dislike he was feeling for your guest. He was annoyed at the manner in which Hyunwoo had an arm around your waist the entire evening, how you grinned up to him, eyes sparkling and all that shit. Hell, you used to look at him like that.
“Honey, can you get the mango float we have in our freezer?” Jungkook heard your mother tell you, and without thinking, he stood up from his chair and made a beeline to where you were, telling you he’d accompany you to your house.
“That’s fine,” you told him. “It’s literally next door.”
“Yeah, but it might be heavy.”
“It’s not.”
“Better safe than sorry.”
You rolled your eyes and agreed then, excusing yourself from Hyunwoo who was in an engaged conversation with Seowon. The pair were geeking out because of their mutual love for the MCU and the next film slated to be released the following year.
Upon arriving at your home, you dashed to the kitchen with Jungkook trudging behind you. He wasn’t sure what his next course of action should be now; all he wanted was some alone time with you, away from the presence of that college boyfriend of yours, but now that he had that, he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted to say or do. He wasn’t even sure why he was feeling a bit jealous—was it because of that saying? Wherein people are bound to want what they can’t have? Or was it that you only appreciate what you had when you’ve already lost it?
“How long have you and Hyunwoo been dating?” he asked, leaning against the counter as you pulled your freezer open.
“Four months, I think.”
“Four months? And you already brought him home?”
You snorted at his tone. “His family is in another country so I thought it’d be nice to invite him.”
“You must really like him then.”
“Yeah, but I’m not in love with him or anything.” You placed the mango float on the space beside Jungkook on the counter. “He’s nice, and he likes me too.”
“Does he treat you well?”
You flashed your eyes at him, amusement dancing in them. “What’s with that question?”
“What’s with it?”
“Nothing, it’s just that…” you trailed, a smirk etched on your face. “Wait a minute, are you… you can’t possibly—” Jungkook was widening his eyes, ready to deny your accusation once you questioned whether he was jealous of Hyunwoo or not— “are you pulling an overprotective brother skit on me, Kook?”
Fuck, thank God, he thought.
“I prefer ‘overprotective friend skit’,” he said.
“That doesn’t have a nice ring to it.”
“But I’m not your brother.”
“You don’t have to be, I’m just saying that you and Seowon have been acting similar since Hyunwoo and I arrived.”
“Nonsense. Seowon likes him.”
“Oh, so you don’t?”
He pressed his lips into a tight line.
“Did you just admit that you don’t like Hyunwoo?” you asked, chuckling. He was grateful that you didn’t seem to be offended by it.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like him.”
“Instead you implied it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You kinda did.”
He heard you laugh and he couldn’t help but allow himself to laugh as well.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Maybe I’m just not used to you dating anyone. You are chronically single.”
“Can’t say you’re wrong.” You snorted and picked up from the mango float, marching back to his house and gesturing for him to follow you.
He did, no words spoken between the both of you once more. Though when you were entering their place again, with Jungkook holding the door open for you, he mentioned something he never reckoned he’d have the guts to mention out loud.
“When you open my gift,” he began, “don’t do it in front of Hyunwoo, okay?”
“Why not?” You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, intrigued by his warning.
“He might not like it. You’ll see.”
That night, at the comfort of your bedroom, Hyunwoo nowhere near but instead sleeping at the coach downstairs in your living room, you opened Jungkook’s gift and saw that it was a necklace with your birth flower as its pendant.
You smiled, rolling your eyes to yourself, and slept with that giddy look never leaving your face.
****
“Not so fast,” Jungkook grunts.
Did he think that you were going to be less difficult since he was helpful earlier? Yeah, he did. He likes to think that if it wasn’t for him, you would have taken longer in injecting yourself with insulin, so he at least wanted a thank you in the form of your willingness to have an adult conversation with him tonight. However, that clearly isn’t the case because when he walked you up to your apartment like he always did, you’re attempting to lock him out, shutting the door as fast as you can once you’re inside, thus trying to prevent him from initiating that talk he wanted the two of you to have.
“Seriously?” He successfully pries the door open and you scowl at him.
“Jungkook—”
“No, you don’t get to reason your way out of this. I’m done hearing you out. It’s your turn to listen to me.” He steps inside your apartment.
You groan, striding to the sofa and throwing your bag there. “You can’t force me to marry you.”
“Is marrying me so fucking bad that you can’t get over it for health insurance benefits that can really help you?” He demands, infuriated. 
“That’s not the issue.”
“Then what is?”
“You can get arrested!” you exclaim. “And so can I! Does that not freak you out?”
“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”
“I’m not willing to take the risk.”
“I’m not willing to see you die.”
You scoff out a laugh. “Who the fuck said anything about dying? I’m not dying.”
“You almost passed out on me. You almost—”
“It’s an error on my part, I admit.” You sigh. “When I get busy and preoccupied, sometimes I forget to check my sugar levels regularly throughout the day. I’m sorry.”
“And you expect to be convinced that you have everything handled?”
“God, I’m not a child. Stop treating me like I can’t do shit for myself.”
“Please, ___,” he approaches you with the most pleading expression he can muster, and he watches as your hard expression crumbles, “just accept my help. It’s really not a big deal—you won’t even see me often, so keeping up with the whole marriage ploy wouldn’t be difficult. We’ll divorce in two years, we can pretend we never got married after that.”
“You just don’t get it, don’t you?”
“What do I not get? If you think I don’t understand something, then explain it to me—”
“I can’t marry you,” you say. You do so like it’s final, like there’s no point in arguing with you because he can never change your stand on this. As he’s pleading with his eyes to urge you to agree, you’re communicating with your eyes in a similar way that’s wishing he would just drop this. “It’s wrong.”
His eyebrows furrow. “This isn’t the time to go on your high horse and decide what’s wrong and what’s not. It’s a fraudulent marriage—of course, it’ll be wrong to some degree.”
“No, I mean…” You turn away from him, rubbing your face in exhaustion. “It’d be wrong of me to marry you. I’m taking advantage of you if I do, and I don’t like that.”
Jungkook shakes his head, frustration worsening at the childlike excuse. Surely, you weren’t that naive, were you? “You’re not. I’m not doing this against my own will. Besides, we get extra pay just for being married. If it makes you feel better, I won’t split it with you.”
“That won’t make me feel better.”
“Then what will?”
You flop down on the coach and lean back, closing your eyes. He knows he’s being a pain in the ass but he can’t just stand here and do nothing. He thinks he’s already come too far in convincing you, he isn’t going to back out now. Every single day spent together, he can feel you warming up to the idea of marrying him for health insurance. Your connection and entirety of your relationship has been off the charts recently that it’ll be harder for him not to be assured that before he leaves for his job, you’ll be taken care off.
Jungkook goes to the spot beside you, sitting down. Your knees bump together, he keeps on gazing at you, waiting for you to focus on him; a minute passes and his gaze moves to your hand that’s laying on the small space between you.
Without overthinking, he stretches out and clasps it, allowing his fingers to play with yours that finally captures your attention. The moment he glances up, he sees that you’re staring at him and he doesn’t let go, he even smiles, a quiet promise that he’s always willing to listen to whatever you want to tell him.
You hesitantly smile back. “You know,” your eyes train back to your intertwined fingers, Jungkook reveling in the warmth of your skin, gaining more confidence in acting out his feelings, “there was a time wherein I would have said yes immediately if you asked me to marry you.”
He smirks, can’t deny how hearing that inflates his ego a bit although this route in the conversation isn’t where he expected to go. “What changed?”
“For one, I grew up.”
“Ouch.”
You laugh. Then you stay quiet for a while before speaking. “Can I confess something?”
That piques his interest. “Anything.”
“But you have to promise not to make fun of me.”
“That’s impossible.” He teases. “What is it?”
You stall, readjusting your position so that you can directly face him. Jungkook doesn’t let go of your hand, he keeps it in his grasp, his thumb rubbing along the expanse of your knuckles.
“I like you, Jungkook. I really really do,” you finally say and he blinks, startled.
It shouldn’t surprise him, considering that it’s been long established that he knew of your crush already, though he doesn’t seem to have anticipated for you to boldly admit it when all these years, it’s only been some kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you downright acknowledged.
You continue speaking. “In fact, I like you so much that maybe it developed into love at some point—I’m not sure. I’m at this stage of no longer being afraid of what I feel, I think? Most of the time, I just let it occur like it’s something so natural. Like it’s a feeling that I can never get away from? Like whatever I do, there’s no way to shake you.” You chuckle half-heartedly. “Though never in a million years would I have thought that I’d confess all of this. What for anyway? I don’t want you to be burdened with what my teenage heart couldn’t rub out.”
His mind is racing; hundred thoughts, hundred scenarios, hundred experiences he’s spent with you since the day you met. Jungkook never realized how much he needed you to say that you liked him—that maybe you even loved him—until he heard it from your very mouth that you did, causing every inhibition and doubt he had to vanish. Now, he only wants to engulf you in an embrace and shout Yes, I feel the same way! Sorry for being a fucking corward and not doing this first!
He would have done all of that in a flash if it didn’t appear that you still had something to say. Based on your rather constipated posture and the hand he’s holding that’s becoming clammy, he discerns that you’re just in the first part of what you wanted to admit.
“Actually, that’s also why I can’t let myself marry you,” you say. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know… it feels really icky somehow. I feel like I’m holding you hostage, or that I’m tricking you because of an ulterior motive, or that I’m defying the laws of the universe by having the chance to marry you. I’m not sure. I just know that I don’t want to marry you if it means I’ll only get to do so because you think you’re doing me a huge favor. I don’t want to be your charity case, Kook—I deserve to be more than that, you know? I’m not traditional or whatever but if it’s not for love, I’m not keen on getting married.” You abruptly pull away from his clutch, embarrassment washing on your features by what you stated. “Plus, two years might not be that long but what happens when you meet someone and you like her? How can you explain that you’re only married to me because I need it for my medication? It’ll just be unnecessarily messy. I don’t want to hold you back from those kinds of things. I don’t want to be a hindrance.”
That’s his cue. That’s when he knows he’s supposed to kiss you and take your breath away, to admit that he’s certain that he has loved you since that one time when he was in the Naval Academy and although the training was hard as fuck, the thought of you gave him strength and he didn’t want to see anyone as much as he wanted to see you after—that when you and Seowon visited him, that familiar urge to have you alone was all he felt the entire time, solidifying the idea that perhaps he didn’t just see you as a friend.
“You’re unbelievably dense, ___,” he murmurs, smirking at the play of events, and you glance at him, expression showing disbelief that he’s somehow treating this matter lightly.
“What?”
“Do you honestly think I go around and offer marriage to every woman out there who can benefit from being a military spouse? Do you think I’m that generous? I’m not. I wouldn’t ask anyone to marry me for the same reason if they weren’t important to me—or if I didn’t like them. I’m not that much of a saint,” he adds. “I mean, I’m taking a two-week break to convince you to marry me. I’m spending time with you every single day. I’m driving for almost an hour and a half, enduring the traffic to get from my apartment to the university you work in to do that—and you think this is because I want to be charitable?”
Silence. Your forehead wrinkles. He thinks you’re still not getting the point.
“I’m in love with you, ____,” Jungkook says.
Your breath hitches in your throat. You’re opening your mouth, then closing it, then opening it again, then pressing it into a thin line. He thinks you look cute, being taken aback like this, and he’s wishing that he’s done this sooner so that the last five days of him chasing you around like a lost puppy was spent with talking more about what’s possibly waiting for yours and his relationship next.
“Are you serious?” you ask after what seems like forever. “Or are you just saying that because you’re that desperate to have me on board with the whole fraudulent marriage thing?”
“God—” He’s inching closer to you now, laughing, watching your lips twitch at his reaction— “I’m convinced that you were born into this earth to drive me fucking crazy.”
And just like that, he no longer restrains himself from kissing you.
It takes you a few good seconds before you will yourself to move. You can’t seem to process the reality of Jungkook admitting that he was in love with you and then taking the liberty to plant his lips on yours. You’re not complaining, of course, but you are a bit overwhelmed that it literally makes you freeze, unaware of what you’re supposed to do now that your fantasies are coming into life.
However, once you feel him angle his head to the side, doing so to deepen the kiss, your reflexes kick in and you’re kissing him back, encircling your arms around his neck and leaning towards him, Jungkook sighing in what appears to be relief. He grips your hips to support you as you try to straddle him, but your movements are so clumsy that you end up sprawling against his chest instead, perched on a leg of his that provides pleasure on the spot you need him the most. He chuckles at your lack of gracefulness, gliding his lips to your cheek and down to your jaw, nipping.
“This okay?” he whispers with a palm drifting to your bottom.
You nod and Jungkook’s mouth is back on yours in an instant. He squeezes your ass, takes his time in fondling with it, cheekily slapping whenever you get brave yourself and push your tongue past his lips, before he skims his hand lower to your thigh and signals for you to mount him. Upon being properly sat on his lap, you get an immediate feel of his hard length through his jeans, prompting your imagination to run wild and induce the filthiest things he can do to you if neither of you stops.
“Holy shit,” he curses, your kisses roaming to the base of his throat where you lap and suck.
It becomes a dirty pattern for a while. The both of you will take a brief pause from making out to remove a piece of clothing or kiss every other exposed skin there is: the cheek, the jaw, the neck, the collarbones, the shoulders. Then one of you hauls the other back for another passionate kiss, hands skating everywhere on your bodies, sounds of arousal echoing inside the room; you’re starting to get lightheaded but you’re positive it’s not because of your sugar levels running low.
“I hate that it took us so long to get to this point,” he mutters.
You grin. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m the man—I should have confessed long ago.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know. ‘Was afraid to lose you, I guess.” He draws his head back and admires your blissed out expression. “But then when Seowon told me you had diabetes, I panicked and thought that I might lose you either way.”
You go back to making out, Jungkook guiding your hips in grinding on his clothed length. It’s addictive—the intimate feel of him, how he’s not shy in making sure you know how much he’s craving to be as close to you as you are to him. You think you can spend the whole night just doing this and be okay with it.
“Fuck, Kook,” you groan against his mouth, a hand descending to his stomach and to his manhood, “you’re so… so fuckin’ hard.”
You’re palming him now, tracing the erection evident under his boxers.
He lets out a grunt. “Yeah, baby, I know.”
“Do you… do you want me—” You’re breathless, not able to continue whatever it is that you want to say.
He understands you just fine though. “No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t do anything.”
You’re not sure what Jungkook means by that. How are you supposed to do nothing when you want to do everything to him? You soon comprehend what he means when he guides you to lay down on the sofa, when his lips skim lower and lower, passing your breasts, giving them the attention they deserve, until he goes lower than that and discards your underwear, kissing you in between your legs.
It’s like he’s releasing all the pent up emotions he’s been keeping all these years. His tongue and fingers are relentless, his voice is telling you that he’s eager to coax an orgasm out of you, and as he lifts himself up to return to his previous position, face hovering yours, you’re positive that he’ll get everything he wants because without a doubt you’ll give him everything he wants from you too. Hell, if he uses this opportunity to ask you to marry him again, you might answer yes straight away, no longer bearing in mind the worries you expressed to him earlier.
Although did that even matter anymore? Jungkook said he loved you. He said you drove him crazy. You never thought you’d come to see the day he’d utter those words but here you are. The man of your dreams is kissing you, pleasing you, and looking damn enthusiastic as he does all of that.
“Last chance to stop me,” Jungkook teases. His eyes are glassy and you can feel his cock nudging on your thigh.
You giggle, bringing his head closer to press another long kiss on those pink and plump lips of his. “Please never stop.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
“I’m going to take you up on that.”
“Please do.”
After this night, you’re certain that you’ll never allow yourself to be with another man aside from Jungkook. At the back of your head, you always thought that you were his, regardless if that wasn’t true or that there was no real relationship to prove that—however, at this moment, as he thrusts in and out languidly, you unquestionably know that you’re his. You belong to him now and he belongs to you; he lets you know through his love-filled gaze, his passionate kisses, and the manner wherein he moans your name.
“I love you,” he says, like he’s still in deep longing for your touch and affection.
You hum, tangling your fingers through the strands of his hair. “I love you, Kook.” You stare at his eyes. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t.”
A boyish grin erupts on his features.
Time passes by quickly. In a few more of his kisses, of the intoxicating slam of his hips, of his seductive whimpers, you’re coming beneath him, Jungkook pulling out and jerking his length until he too comes, his seed landing on the base of your tummy. You have the nerve to giggle at that, grinning at him with low-lidded eyes, and Jungkook hastily wipes his cum off your skin, attacking you with another passionate kiss that leaves you breathless.
“There’s no way you’re not marrying me after this,” he murmurs.
You teasingly graze your teeth on his bottom lip. “I’ll think about it.”
He groans. “Don’t think about it. Just say yes.”
“At least let me sleep on it, Kook.”
“Fuck—fine.” He grabs your sides and pulls you flush against his body. “Guess I’ll have to keep on convincing you until you agree.”
****
“God, why is this so difficult?” Jungkook whines, keeping you in his embrace, head tucked between your cheek and shoulder.
The air is very humid and Jungkook’s in his naval aviator uniform, which doesn’t look cool in a sense that air is properly flowing through the material. He doesn’t care though, doesn’t care that it’s sticking to his skin as he refuses to let you go, not even when you complain playfully.
“Kook, I’m fucking sweaty.”
“I don’t care.”
You laugh. 
He’s leaving to return to his duty and you’re here with him outside the base before he enters, being with him until the last possible minute because that’s how much of a good wife you are.
Yes, you and Jungkook did get married. Three days ago in fact, at the city hall’s courtroom. Neither of you invited your parents; they didn’t know about the occasion and you refused to tell them, afraid that they may be critical about yours and his choices when they discover the true reason why you’re rushing to be wed. The only people that remained to be aware of it was Seowon and his girlfriend, Winnie, who served as the witnesses, which was fine by you. In your understanding, this was just for the papers and your health, and not the real deal yet to be celebrated lavishly.
“I’ll propose to you again after a couple of years,” Jungkook promised after the ceremony. “Let’s renew our vows and I’ll give you an amazing wedding.”
You would have told him that there was no need, but who were you kidding? You did want a proper wedding with Jungkook. The previous week didn’t even feel like you were newlyweds. Yes, the both of you compacted all of the dates you could have if one of you weren’t such a chicken in five days, and yes, though the honeymoon stage was experienced and practiced—it was only because you were a new couple who after years of hiding their feelings for one another, was now finally free to express it as much as they desired.
“Call me everyday?” you ask when he finally pulls back, Jungkook pecking your lips one more time.
“Definitely.” He smiles. “Visit me whenever possible?”
“Of course.” You kiss him too.
His smile transforms into a grin. “Take care of yourself, alright? Keep me updated all the time. No sugarcoating allowed.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
Rolling his eyes, he gives you another kiss and engulfs you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground that causes you to giggle.
“Okay, pack it up, love birds!” Seowon shouts.
The two of you turn to your brother who’s leaning on his car, the vehicle that was used to transport the three of you today. You’re still in the middle of moving your belongings at Jungkook’s place and Seowon was kind enough to volunteer helping, always dubious that you could do stuff on your own. Despite your reluctance, you let him assist you, mostly because you’re trying to make a conscious effort in not upsetting him again.
Let’s just say that when the judge hailed you husband and wife at the civil wedding, Seowon wasn’t thrilled to see that the kiss shared between you and Jungkook wasn’t as fake as the supposed sham marriage, leading him to the conclusion that in the middle of Jungkook’s ruse of convincing you to be his wife, something must have happened that led to your approval and that rather 18+ rated kiss. Mostly though, he’s just offended that neither of you thought of telling him that you were an official couple before the wedding.
Jungkook unwillingly places you down.
“I think I need to go,” you say.
He nods with a sigh. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.”
“Call you tomorrow?”
“Yes.” You affectionately caress his cheek, bringing his face down for the very very very last kiss. 
He leans into it. “Fuck, I don’t want to leave.”
“Seriously—hurry up!” Seowon shouts and you pull back.
“I will kill him,” you tell Jungkook.
“He’s your brother,” he says. “And now, my brother-in-law, so I can’t let you do that.”
“That might be your very first red flag, Jungkook, insinuating that you’re choosing my brother over me.” You cross your arms. “Tell me, if the both of us were drowning, would you save me or Seowon?”
“You,” he answers without missing a beat.
You narrow your eyes. “Is that the truth?”
“Of course. Seowon would probably undrown himself anyway and you’re shit at swimming. It’s an easy choice.”
You punch him hard on the shoulder and he feigns hurt, snickering. “For the record, I don’t think anyone can ‘undrown’ themselves—but fine, you pass the test.”
Jungkook faces Seowon’s direction and does a final salute, your brother returning it swiftly, and just like that, you and him share your last farewells. You watch as he goes through the entrance of the base and sends you a wave of goodbye; you weakly copy the gesture and stand there for a few seconds, just watching him fade from your view the further he trudges inside. You don’t think saying goodbye to him ever felt this heavy, and you blame it on the fact that after all this is the first time you’re saying goodbye to him with the assurance that he loves you too—and that alone weighs millions.
You spin on your heel and go to Seowon who’s already in the driver’s seat. As soon as you get in and wear your seat belt, he’s giving you a dirty look.
“What?” you ask.
“Please never do that in front of me again.”
His statement makes you smirk. “Why? Didn’t you want this?”
“Want what?”
“Me and Jungkook to be together.”
“When on earth did I say that?”
“You previously admitted that you were lowkey playing cupid by suggesting that Jungkook marry me for health insurance.”
A short pause. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to watch you two reenact a porno every fucking time.”
“We’re not—”
“You are. Don’t deny it.” He grumbles. “God, every time I see you two, it’s like I’m Ross from that one Friends episode where he accidentally sees Monica and Chandler doing it from the window of his apartment.”
“Yeah, I remember that.” You laugh. “In my defense, you haven’t seen me and Jungkook actually do the deed so—”
“Wait, so the two of you have?”
Your expression drops. His tone is approaching older brother protectiveness territory and you’re quick to attempt diffusing the situation. “I will not dive into that. All I’m going to say is that I’m a grown adult and so is Jungkook.”
He grimaces before starting the engine. “Yeah, never dive into that. I don’t need to hear the details.”
You share a laugh and then silence fills the car.
You press your lips together, looking at him while he backs out from the parking spot. “Hey, thanks, by the way. For driving today, and for offering to help me later, and maybe for also never minding your own business.”
You recall how Seowon was the one who couldn’t stop worrying about you and finding a solution when you told your family that you had type 1 diabetes. Your parents were concerned, they pestered you for months to force you to accept financial assistance from them, but they gave up soon after. Seowon though? He never did. He persisted through every outburst you had; he tolerated your bitchiness and your dirty looks all the time. Out of everyone in your life, you always felt like regardless of how stubborn and prideful you could be, Seowon was worse—in the best way possible.
A crooked smile illuminates his face. “You’re my kid sister. It’s my job to never let you experience peace in your whole life.”
You scoff. “Well, you’re damn great at what you do.”
When you reach Jungkook’s apartment, unloading the boxes and arranging your stuff to its designated places, your heart swells in happiness as the reality sinks in that your life is heading in the right direction after months of feeling hopeless. It drives you to be more thankful to the little things, to the people who were always by your side, to your previous circumstance that although wasn’t ideal was still manageable. A lot don’t get to have that kind of privilege and you promise yourself that you’ll make an effort to find more things to be grateful about from this day forward.
“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Seowon approaches in the middle of you arranging your books on Jungkook’s near to empty shelf, “Winnie wanted to give you this. She would have handed it over herself but she’s going to be busy for the next few days.”
You take the frame from his hand and see that it’s the picture Winnie took of you and Jungkook after the ceremony. It’s in the restaurant that you ate at to celebrate the civil wedding. Jungkook was grinning at you with an arm around on the backrest of your chair, you were leaning towards him, smiling at the camera—and the absolute selling point of why this was the best picture ever taken was because of how cake icing was scattered on your faces, places on spots in an artistic manner like it was planted there on purpose for the picture and not because the both of you were being silly that instance.
You think it showcases your relationship with Jungkook marvelously. It’s playful, it’s sweet, and most of all, it demonstrates how you two are clearly great friends.
“This is so beautiful, Seowon,” you say.
You immediately send Winnie a heartfelt thank you message for the gift and continue to take a photo of the frame, sending it to Jungkook as well.
Once you hit send, you type out a message to accompany it.
You: look how cute we look 🥹
You’re certain it’ll take hours before he replies so you keep your phone again, going back to staring at the picture which is now placed on one of the shelves. It’s the sole picture frame you have with Jungkook. In fact, it’s the only picture that Jungkook has in his apartment, and you like to think that this might be the mark of the new beginning you’ll have with him. Even though your relationship wouldn’t be traditionally explored given his occupation and how he’s most likely going to be away a lot, you don’t mind.
If there’s one thing you really believe in, it’s that waiting for Jungkook—whether consciously or unconsciously—always brings out the best outcomes.
Tumblr media
thank you for reading! as i live for positive reinforcement, feedback is always appreciated ♡
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
sukunasweetheart · 2 days
Text
Sukuna, a middle aged man jaded by the harsh realities of his life. He steps outside for a smoke nearby a convenience store, completely bored out of his mind.
A lady is handing out flyers nearby, although nobody is bothering to look her way, including sukuna himself.
You approach the man who's getting irritated by the lighter that refuses to work in his hand.
"Hello there, sir. Would you be interested in taking up classes for arts and craft?" You offer the cute flyer up.
Sukuna scoffs. Is she serious?
"No thanks."
"Are you sure? You look like you could use a bit more colour in your life."
He's too exhausted at this point to get angry at a random woman on the street.
"...You're not too far off, i suppose," sukuna mutters, still trying to get the spark to stay on his lighter. "Even so, I'm not interested in the likes of arts and craft. Do i look like a child to you?"
You withdraw your offer of your flyer, and inspect him for a moment.
"Arts and craft can be enjoyed by anyone, regardless of age. But moving past that... you seem a bit down. If you'd like to confide in a stranger for a night, I'm happy to listen."
What a strange, persistent woman. Sukuna gives up on his lighter, and takes out the unlit cigarette in his mouth to think back for a moment. One thing does come to mind.
"I'm not feeling down. But i remembered something, now that i think about it..." he confesses, feeling weirdly compelled to tell you about it.
"Today is supposed to be my birthday."
Birthdays have never been special to him. Nobody celebrated his birth as a child, and in turn, he's never paid attention to the birthdays of others.
"Oh, happy birthday. Are you doing anything special for yourself today?"
"No. I've never cared for birthdays. And I'm getting too old for that anyway."
"Well, that won't do... Hold on for a second."
Puzzled, sukuna looks back at you but you've already gone inside the convenience store. Whatever you're up to now, couldn't possibly be more enticing than getting in a proper smoke right now. Sukuna begins to zone out.
He only snaps out of it when something mildly cold grazes past his cheek, leaving a ticklish and moist sensation on his skin as it disappears upon impact.
Bubbles. Bubbles are flying past him, and floating away into the sky.
For a moment, he gets mesmerised by the swirl of colours that are harboured in each one. Even just from the light of this dingy street, they fly up while holding a multitude of different colours inside them. Time seems to slow for a split second, and he doesn't understand why.
His gaze follows the trail to identify it's source. And unsurprisingly, it's you, standing behind him. You blow a couple more out, and then grin at him childishly. He finally looks at your face properly for the first time.
"Birthday bubbles. For the birthday man," you chuckle sheepishly, knowing that you probably look a bit silly right now. You put the bubble wand back into the small bottle of the soapy mixture, and screw it tightly.
"Here, you can have it. Next time you're feeling a bit antsy, why don't you try blowing some yourself? They're pretty, aren't they?"
You also hand him a different small item.
"And i also threw in a little something else, while i was at it."
He looks down, and sees that it's a new lighter. He slowly pulls his hand out of his pocket to take both of them from your hands.
"I hope you get to do something more special next year. Birthdays are supposed to be joyful, after all," you comment.
"Thanks for putting up with my nosiness. Farewell."
And then you leave him after a quick wave.
Sukuna stares wordlessly as you walk off, wondering what to name this ticklish feeling rising in the pit of his stomach.
The small bottle in his palm reminds him of a moment in his childhood. Kids in the park bragging about their bubble wands that were gifted to them. the laughs that resounded as they all ran off to catch the fragile spheres as they blew away in the wind. The tiny feelings of envy in his heart.
The item he tucks away into his pocket is the lighter. And when nobody is watching, he blows a couple more bubbles into the night sky.
-
Every time he passes by that convenience store, the thought of you comes to his mind. A flashback of your smile in the back of his mind. Every so often, he comes to this particular store. Despite having closer options, he comes to this specific one.
At times, sukuna regrets not taking one of the flyers that you were handing out. He wouldn't have had to mope around a convenience store in hopes of running into you again.
Today is a rainy day, and this calls for a hot piping cup of instant ramen. He doesn't usually enjoy convenience store food, but he wants a reason to stay around inside for a bit longer.
He needs to wait five minutes for the noodles to soften. In this time, he stares out the glass frame of the store, and watches the various rows of people walking past with their umbrellas opened.
There appears to be one anomaly in the crowd, however. Running without shelter from the rain, clutching her bag as if it contains something important in there. Sukuna realises that it's you.
Forgetting about his instant ramen, sukuna grabs his umbrella and dashes out the door.
You're mildly panicking about being stuck behind the red light at the zebra crossing without anything to save you from the rain, but the sensation of the droplets hitting your body come to a stop all too suddenly.
You look up, and there's a black umbrella sheltering you, big and strong looking. You spin around and recognise the stranger with pink hair and sharp eyes. Seemingly out of breath.
He signals to the light that has now turned green behind you, and ushers you forward to cross the road before you can say anything to him.
Now safely on the other side of the road, you begin to converse with him.
"It's you! Hello. Thank you for sheltering me. How have you been?"
"... So-so. Nothing's changed since the last time we met."
"I see. You look better than last time, though." You get the feeling that his eyes have a little more light in them.
Sukuna doesn't really get what you mean, but he moves on.
"What’s in your bag that's so important for you to be protecting it like that?" He asks, effectively changing the topic.
"Oh, this? I literally just bought some brand new origami paper... i can't risk getting them wet and unusable. The children would be disappointed."
"Origami, huh? How original."
"Hey! That's not all... there's a lot of options i offer them. They voted on origami this time."
"You got a lot of people signed up?"
"Not really... but I'm sure it'll start picking up soon. Slowly, one at a time."
You smile up at him hopefully.
"...is the offer still open?"
You cock your head to the side slightly, confused. Sukuna grits his teeth, feeling a little bashful about having to ask more specifically.
"You know. Lessons for grown adults."
"Oh! Of course, anytime! Would you like to come sign up today?"
"Do you offer one-on-one sessions too?"
"Yes, I do."
"Alright. Let’s go."
Sukuna can't fathom the words that are coming out of his own mouth. But fuck it, what's the worst that could happen? You've somehow intriged him, and he can't think of a better way to approach you.
You chatter his ears off along the way, and he nods along while his shoulder gets wet from the way he leans his umbrella closer to your side.
1K notes · View notes
Text
God's TV- DC x DP prompt
Accidentally summoning a god from another dimension can happen, especially when cults are involved. However, no can could predict that the not only was the god a teenage boy but also a very bored teenage boy who didn't want to leave.
So he stayed and moved into Titans tower.
Danny is helpful (when he wants to be) but rarely goes out on missions. He says they are boring and nothing is dangerous enough to exert the effort. Instead, he minds the medical bay. Having a healer more than made up for the lack of help.
It's not like anyone disliked Danny or thought he didn't do anything it was just that he was unpredictable. Danny could be nice, considerate, and even sweet if he was working in the medbay. He could also be a pain in the ass anywhere else. He loved pranks and scaring people with his powers. He was harmless though.
No one really knew what he did all day. He was usually in his room doing something they guested. Said room was an anomaly. It was larger on the inside having been made into a pocket dimension. The appearance and organization of the room changed every time you went in.
It was after one mission that the team learned what was in the room.
A rogue had used their invention to erase Superboy's memories and they didn't know what to do. They took him to Danny who was currently rearranging the medicine by color. They hoped that his powers covered mind-altering afflictions. Unfortunately, Danny couldn't wave a hand and fix this.
Instead, Danny took the group to his room. The decor was neon Tokyo meets space right now. The furniture was currently floating and almost hitting Wonder Girl in the head with an end table. Of course, there was no gravity here.
"Stay here while I grab it," Danny said flying up the vertical corridor.
While he was gone the room rearranged itself into a contemporary format. The furniture grounded itself and shifted into a normal living room.
Danny returned with a cart and a headset. He placed a card he pulled out of the cart into the headset and put it on the dazed Superboy's head.
"Wait what is that?" Tim asked.
"It's his memories. I kept a backup in case this happened." Danny shrugged.
Immediately everyone began asking what the hell does that mean and why does he have that.
"Oh please, this dimension has this happened all the time. Amnesia is so cliché and cheap. I saw a pattern and decided the easiest way to prevent you from losing the entirety of your lives was to make save states of your memories." Danny said matter of fact.
Robin pinched the bridge of his nose.
Impulse studied the rack of cases and looking for the card with his name on it.
Wondergirl sighed, she was used to this from Robin but even he wouldn't go this far.
"What? It's not like just anyone can find these. Only you can access your own memories anyways. I just decided to repurpose my RE:Viewer." Danny pouted.
"What is a reviewer?" Wally asked flipping through the cases. Each one had titles like moves or shows with an arrangement of stickers.
"The RE:Viewer is something I created to catalog things I've seen looking into other dimensions. I don't have an infinite memory you know. But the longer I have my title the more I'll lose touch with my mortality. These things help me stay close to people by giving me the chance to remember how it feels. I also have been using them to get the stories of others. Keeping their experiences like you'd keep a TV show or movie. So many stories could have been lost to time but now they are saved. I use them to teach myself." Danny smiled.
The concept genuinely sounded interesting. Like experiencing a movie in 4d.
It had been 3 minutes before Kon took off the headset and back to his old self.
Danny pulled the input card out and it disappeared into another realm with a flick of the wrist. Danny was completely honest that the copies were inaccessible to everyone but him.
"You feeling alright Superboy? Your memory should be backed up until a week ago." Danny said shining a light in his eye.
"I'm fine. I think. What happened?" Kon asked batting the light out of his eyes.
"Explanation later. Take a nap first. You aren't concussed at least." Danny informed.
"What are the stickers for?" Wally said pointing at the rainbow of colors the card cases had.
"Just the emotions associated with the experiences. Orange is comedy, red is action, pink is romance, and blue is tragedy." Danny listed. "That one with the pink is one of my favorites. I meddled a bit in that world. Two people who had never met fell in love at two points at different times. One of them was doomed to die but I worked my magic on a mirror that allowed them to meet once. They shared notes left in different places for the other months ahead. Makes you believe in true love. A real tear-jerker."
"What about the black stickers?" Wally asked.
"Don't touch the black ones," Danny said darkly, smacking his hand away. "You don't need to know about those. I don't like thinking about them."
"So you just take the memories of others and put them inside your machine to replay later?" Batgirl asked. "Isn't that kind of wrong?"
"No, I asked permission. I usually pull them aside at some point and ask. If it's my memories (that's the green stickers) I don't need to. The rainbow ones are simulations. Like a video games." Danny responded patting her on the back for not being to hard on him about this admittedly weird situation.
"So what's the black one with the rainbow sticker?" Wally asked picking up the case that was obviously stuffed in the back.
"STOP TOUCHING THOSE!" Danny yelled pulling him away.
1K notes · View notes
jarofstyles · 2 days
Text
Appetency
Tumblr media
Okay so we've got a bit of a long one. Kinda enemies to lovers if you blink, fuckboyrry turned softrry, dedication galore, hesitant Y/N and confident H, you're gonna love it. This is the first half- the other half is already up on Patreon and will be here later on 💕
Check out our Patreon for early access to the second half and 200+ exclusive writings
Warnings- slight angst, mentions of anxiety, alcohol, cocky h turned into a loverboy... nothing too crazy in this part.
WC- 8.5k
Tumblr media
“Why are you every-fucking-where.” Y/N stopped short, glaring at the man across from her. The entire party, she had been trying to avoid him- but he wasn’t letting that be at all possible.
Harry grinned widely at that, the most obnoxious and infuriatingly pretty smile with those stupid dimples. Leaning against the wall as he studied her for a good moment, there was no hiding the not so casual enjoyment he got out of flustering her. 
Finally, he broke the silence, standing up from his casually cool stance on the wall. She knew he was going to say something that annoyed her and it was proven as he opened his mouth. "C’mon, don’t be like that. Perhaps you just can't keep me off your mind, baby girl. Can’t stop thinking about me, seeing me everywhere…"
“Ew. Do not call me that.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust for the nickname, walking past him. He followed, of course, because he always did. “Just because we have a few similar friends doesn’t mean you need to be at every social event. I’d love a break from your smug face.”
"You can't possibly be getting tired of this handsome face already…" He protested as he followed behind, his words purposely trying to rile her up. Getting a rise out of her seemed to make his whole day, and usually she would laugh it off but this time… things were different. Finding a spot in the kitchen, he watched as she puttered around trying not to look at him. 
His eyes danced with amusement as he added in some more. "Or are you just mad that I always seem to steal the show, love? Not my fault that I'm effortlessly charming and captivating, darling."
“Humble, too.” She snorted, grabbing a drink from the cooler. Buzzballs were not the thing she’d want to choose when she was thinking about the next morning, but they were exactly what she needed when it came to trying to mentally escape right now. “You’re insufferable. Really.” His eyes were on her as she used her nail to pop open the cap. 
“So are you going to leave me alone, or follow me around all night?”
Harry chuckled in amusement at her sarcasm, enjoying the way she rolled your eyes at him. "Leave you alone when you look this lovely? Not a chance in hell, darling." He hummed, tapping his own bottle against the counter. He paid no mind to the new people who entered the space, eyes glued on the girl he was talking to. "But as much as I'd love to keep annoying you, I have a much better way we could spend time. Don't you remember, love?" He purred. “I certainly do. It’s hard to forget the way it feels when you moan-” The interruption was instant, her hand gripping onto him. 
“Harry…” she hissed, tugging his arm further down the dark hallway and into a bedroom. Who’s? She didn’t know. All she knew was that she had seen where this was going, and she didn’t want him to say it too loudly. Everyone was so god damn nosy and respectfully, she didn’t want to deal with any of that. Not after all she had said.
“Listen.” Putting her hands on her hips, she tilted her head up at him as he stood a little too close. “We hooked up, it was a mistake. You know it.” Though it didn’t seem like he thought so considering how he trailed her ever since. “We… we were a little drunk and I was lonely and you were there.” 
Y/N knew she was slightly lying, but she was trying to fool herself. If she said it enough times, maybe she’d believe it. They’d always had chemistry. It was intensity that burned between them, her disdain and his addiction to getting a rise out of her. It was only a matter of time that they’d give into some sort of blow out- but she hadn’t expected it to be as good as it was. It couldn’t happen again. 
Harry had that knowing smirk on his face as she tried to deny it all, knowing exactly where this was headed. The thrill of chasing her, of getting under her skin was intoxicating, addicting. He loved making her growl and huff and glare at him, because it meant getting her undivided attention.
"Was it really a mistake?" He asked as he leaned against the door, finally giving her some breathing room.  "Or have you just been avoiding me because you couldn't stop thinking about it?"
The truth was that he had been thinking about that night ever since. Multiple times. Before he went to sleep, when he was in the shower.. It was hard not to. 
Her jaw clenched, placing her bottle down and crossing her arms. “Look. You’re hot, Harry. You don’t need me to tell you that. You’ve got plenty big of an ego. But I’ve been avoiding you because it can not happen again.” 
Y/N knew that Nina was into Harry and she really didn’t want to start any drama. Not that he even seemed remotely into her, but because she acted like he was someone she had dibs on. As gross as it was, she tended to start shit with anyone Harry pursued and she just wasn’t in the season for drama. There were other things to worry about other than start a feud over a man. 
He had known about Nina's crush on him, but he didn't care about her. He never had, and he never would. As fucked up as it was, what they had, in his mind, was just a harmless flirtation, nothing more. Y/N knew that, but Nina didn’t. He couldn't have been more clear he had no interest in her, but some people took delusion to heart. 
It didn’t matter how good Harry gave it to her last time, how hard her legs shook, how sore she was in the best way. Didn’t matter if his tongue was hot and through and how he’d cleaned her up with it. It couldn’t be repeated.
Harry's smirk only widened as she openly admitted he was attractive, his ego inflating even more. But when she mentioned avoiding him, his smile faltered slightly.
"Why can't it happen again?" He asked, moving closer to her, his eyes darkened. Too close, making her take a deep breath. If there was one thing he would give him, his presence was commanding. Felt. Her body was very familiar with his now, wanting to lean into him, but she fought it.
“Because.” She sighed tiredly. “I really can’t deal with any drama. I’m exhausted, and the last thing I need is that she-devil going after me because she thinks I’m ‘stealing her man.’ “
The man let out a laugh, amused by the comment. Yeah, he knew exactly who she was referring to and found it funny. He knew she could be a drama queen, and he definitely didn't care for her possessive tendencies, but he had told her that they had nothing going on between them and never would.
He stepped closer to her, his greedy hands reaching out to touch her hips, his touch firm. "You're not stealing me, love. She never had me, and she's delusional if she thinks she does." His eyes gleamed with desire as he looked at her, his touch becoming a bit more possessive in his own way. "And I want you, not her."
“Harry, you don’t actually want me.” She groaned in frustration, trying to ignore how her tummy dropped as he pulled her into him, his other hand curling around her jaw. Stupid body, stupid hormones, stupid muscle memory.  “You think you do because you like a chase. You don’t actually like me or anything, you like how I fuck.” She said bluntly, glancing up at him.
Harry's smug expression faltered as she protested. He could feel the annoyance, but he also noticed the way her body responded to his touch. There was no denying that. "Is that what you really think?" He asked, his grip on her jaw tightening slightly as he looked down at her. "That I'm just chasing you only for the thrill of the chase, for the sex?"
His eyes darkened, his other hand moving lower on her hip, pulling her flush against him. He could feel her body against his, the softness, the warmth, and he wanted it all back. There had been no way she could tell him that she hadn’t enjoyed it, considering he’d made her cum 3 times, made her gush all over his cock. She’d clung to him, held onto him, whimpered his name. But he’d taken care of her, he had gotten her some pomegranate juice and a snack, helped her tie her hair up, driven her home. When the contact had been nonexistent, he was hoping she was just making him work for it- but that wasn’t all this was to him.
“Yeah.” She furrowed her brows. “Is it not?” Harry wasn’t the relationship type, not usually. Everyone knew that. Y/N had constantly reminded herself that when they’d first met and she had a bit of a crush on him, only to see that he liked to fuck em’ and leave ‘em. It lost the appeal and she had resented him a bit for it. 
Was it fair? No. She knew that. But their dynamic had been built on that resentment. 
Harry's jaw clenched at her response, frustration and something else flickering in his face. He loosened his grip on her slightly, his gaze searching her eyes, trying to convey something she obviously wasn’t picking up on.
"And what if I told you that you were wrong?" He asked, his voice low. "What if I told you that there's more to me than just chase and sex?" He tilted his face closer to hers, his hand on her hip keeping her snug. He hadn't realized it himself just how touch deprived for her he actually was. Did she really think it was all just… a game? Had he not proven himself to her that night? Granted, he had maybe fucked up in how he communicated after but… the ball had been put in her court. 
He could tell that she was skeptical, but he was determined to make her believe him.
"I want you." He said firmly, his hand on her jaw moving to wrap around the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair. "I want everything. Your body, your mind, your heart." His hand on her hip moved lower, his touch a little needy. "And the fact that I can't have you is driving me insane. Want you to believe me."
“But why?” She sputtered. “All we do is argue. All I do is blow you off and all you do is follow me around to piss me off.” 
She had no idea he had his own fascination with her. How he’d silently watched her, observed, saw how she was with other people and wanted that chance to feel that. To have one of those smiles for himself.
Harry shook his head with a light laugh, his grip on her flexing slightly as he stared down at the girl he had been playing cat and mouse with. "Because I'll take the arguing, the blowoffs, all of it, just to be near you. I don't know when it truly started, but you've gotten under my skin, love." He pushed her back against the door, his body pressed against hers, trapping the girl. Looking down at her, his eyes were dark with desire, with honesty. It was a little unsettling.
“Harry.” She swallowed, eyes fluttering as his fingers stroked over her jaw and down over her throat, tenderness tinging the touches. “It’s not funny if this is a joke. It’s not.”
Harry's let out a tired breath, his touch gentle as he stroked her delicate skin, taking advantage of every touch. He could see that vulnerability in her eyes, and it only made him more determined to prove himself. "M’not joking. " He said firmly. "This is serious, I want you, and m’not giving up until I have you."
“Then you’re gonna have to work for it.” She exhaled sharply, pushing out of his hold and escaping back towards the party.
Y/N was almost fooled into giving in again- but she could give in without a real, true idea of what he was dedicated to. Maybe it was cruel of her to try and write him off as a bit of a slut trying his luck, but she’d never been awarded the chance to get to know him outside of their usual dynamic. 
That was why, the next day, seeing him on her front porch had her gasping in surprise. “Shit!” She yelped, keys falling to the wood below her. 
He looked good. The night of sleep seemed to refresh him, he’d showered, and he was bright eyed this morning. Determined. Why? She didn’t know. But this was not at all what she had expected when opening her front door. “ You scared the fuck out of me. What are you doing here?”
"Good morning, love." He greeted her. “Nice to see you this mornin’. You look gorgeous.” That cheeky fucking grin, as usual, tilted on his mouth. 
She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow in question. "You didn't answer my question. What are you doing here?"
Harry flashed her a grin, completely unfazed by her skepticism.  "I'm here to see you, of course." He said, as if it was obvious. “Silly thing.”
“Why?” She didn’t want to get too huffy with him but he was nearly speaking in riddles and she didn’t have the patience for that. “Are you alright?”
Of course he was amused at how frustrated she looked, finding her impatience obviously endearing. Maybe it was just her, though. Y/N was a bit of a weakness of his, he found. Pushing himself up the final step, he grabbed her keys and handed them back to her, making no effort to pull his hands away from her own. 
"I'm fine, love." He hummed casually. "I just wanted to see you." Holding her hands in his, his thumbs rubbing soft circles on the skin. Casual intimacy that slightly caught her off guard.
The girl merely looked at him in confusion.  The plan for today had been to go to the grocery shop and do stuff around the house, not entertain the man who had admitted to wanting her last night- but she knew if he was here, it meant he was determined to get his way.
Aka, spending time with her. 
“Okay.. So now you saw me.” She said lowly. “Do you want to go home now?”
The sight of her looking so flustered and on edge fueling his determination, he shook his head.  "Not yet." He said, his voice low and firm. "M’not leaving until I get some of your time."
Y/N closed her eyes, taking a deep inhale through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. Meditative breathing did wonders, it seemed. Usually. She knew Harry well enough to know that he wasn’t going to let this go. He was going to keep prodding until he understood that he probably had no actual intention of being around her long term. He was looking at her with metaphorical sex goggles on. Yeah, she was good in bed, but that was only a tiny portion of her. 
He’d learn eventually.
“Well, I have to go to the store. So…”
Harry watched you closely as she opened her eyes from the attempting to calm herself. It was a little unnerving to know she needed to calm down from such a simple interaction but then again, he had been coming on a little strong. It was his nature, but he tried to relax his stance a bit. No way was he going to let an opportunity to spend time with her be wasted. He was dedicated now, wanting to win her over.  "You're going to the store?" He leaned in closer. “Looks like I'll just have to come with you, then."
Y/N sputtered as he took her handbag and totes from her, tucking them under his arm as the other held her hand. 
“C’mon.” He said smugly, pulling her towards his car. She followed, confused at how he had just agreed to go grocery shopping with her. Willingly. It wasn’t something he liked doing and she knew that- she somehow had found out one night that he had his delivered- but he seemed eager to do this with her. 
The last thing she expected was for him to open the passenger door and help her inside, but he did. Like it was second nature, opening it up and taking her hand to aid her into sitting sound, placing her bags on her lap.
Harry's smirk widened as he scooped up her handbag and totes, his grip on your hand firm as he guided her towards his car. He snickered under her breath at her sputtered protest, enjoying her disbelief that he was actually willing to go grocery shopping with her. Like it was some sort of hardship.
Once he had settled her in, he leaned in closer, the smell of cinnamon gum filling her senses. Keeping his stance, his eyes locked on her, his gaze intense. He could see the confusion in her eyes, and it only fueled his determination to make it second nature to her, to expect this sort of thing from him. . 
"You look cute this morning." He said, his voice low and smooth. "Did you get much sleep last night?" He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle.
Her cheeks felt hot as he tenderly touched her, the softness of it all surprising her. “Um… I did.” The compliment had flustered her too. It wasn’t something she was used to from him. Their usual dynamic was tense on her end and being a pain in the ass with a stupid smirk on his. This sort of treatment was new to her. 
“Thanks. You look….” It felt unnatural to compliment him, but she meant it. Strangely enough. All of this was so new to her.  “Nice.”
Harry chuckled at the slight hesitation in her words, enjoying the way she was thrown off by his tenderness. One day she was going to accept it.  He smiled at her attempt at a compliment, narrowing his gaze at her. "Just nice?" He teased, raising an eyebrow.  He placed a light hand on her knee, his thumb stroking her skin in small circles, his touch gentle and comforting.
“Well, handsome? I dunno.” She grumbled. “Just so you know, you’re carrying all the grocery bags. If you insist on coming along you need to be useful.”
"Oh, I can be very useful, love. You jus’ need to find out what else I can off s’all." He said, his hand continuing its caressing on her knee, his touch sending a little jolt through her body "And don’t worry, I’ll carry all the bags. You just worry about picking out what you need."
Harry could see the doubt in her eyes as he reassured her about carrying the bags, and he knew he had to prove it. Not just that, but the whole thing. He hadn’t won her over quite yet, but he would. 
Removing his hand from her knee, he ignored how much he missed the touch and stood up straight, standing tall and strong next to the car. 
"You don’t believe me?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Just watch, sweetheart. Gonna shock the shit out of you."
——-
Y/N was suspicious. 
Harry was… behaving. More than, actually. He was being sweet and polite, borderline charming. Standing beside her as she pushed the cart, grabbing the items at the top shelves, not rushing her at all. He was flirty, sure, but nothing insane that truly made her roll her eyes at him. His voice was soft spoken and held only a tiny bit of the arrogance it usually did… and she liked it.
Who the fuck was this? And what had they done with the normal Harry? 
“You’re freaking me out a little.” She mumbled, checking off another thing on her list. “Like, you’re being pleasant. That’s not normal for you.”
"What, I can't be pleasant sometimes?" He teased, giving her a look. 
He couldn't help but grin as he watched her check off another item on the grocery list, his eyes roaming freely over her focused expression. He was enjoying this, he realized, enjoying the chance to be close to her more than he would have ever expected. "Maybe I’m just in a good mood today." He said, leaning against the cart.
“It’s just suspicious.” She glanced at him from the side of her eye. “You’re always following me around and trying to get me to snap at you. So excuse me for being a little confused when you’re acting so normal and nice.”
Harry liked working her up and getting reactions out of her, but he liked her. Y/N gave him the tummy butterflies, the excitement, the hot cheeks, all of it. She just didn’t know that- or was heavily in denial. It was his fault, he knew, from never expressing how serious the desires were and expecting her to read between the lines. But fuck, could she blame him? Y/N was a spitfire.
“Can you- fuck.” She groaned. “This can not get any worse.” 
Across the aisle, she saw her. Nina. Glaring at the scene of Harry standing a little too close to Y/N, doing a domestic activity like shopping together… It looked like they were way more than friends. This wasn’t something he liked doing and of course, the other girl would know that… So the situation didn’t look too good.
Harry could feel the shift in her mood as she spotted Nina across the aisle, and he tensed up slightly, ready for the inevitable confrontation.  Fuck, and they’d been doing so good. Of course, someone had to throw him a curveball. 
Good thing he was willing to work for this. 
"Relax." He said quietly, his hand squeezing her shoulder reassuringly, thumbing over the fabric. "I'll handle it."
Harry could feel the tension in her body as he held onto her, knowing that she was on edge. He knew Nina could be a handful, and he didn't want her to add to the stress of the situation. Especially after Y/N was seemingly warming up to him.
He took a deep breath and turned to her, his expression neutral but firm. 
"Nina." He said, his voice calm and steady- almost bored. "Why are you glaring at us like that?”
Nina’s eyes flicked between the pair, her expression hardening as she spoke. “What are you two doing?” She asked, her voice dripping with disdain. 
Harry kept his expression neutral, his hand on Y/N unmoving as he spoke to her. “We’re shopping. Is that a crime?” He replied, his tone cool.
Nina’s lip curled up in a sneer, her eyes narrowing. "Shopping? Is that all?" She asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Awfully domestic, isn’t it?”
Harry chuckled, unruffled by her attitude. "Yes, Nina. We’re just picking up some groceries. Is that so hard to believe?" he challenged, letting her try and intimidate him. It wasn’t going to work. 
The girl’s jaw clenched as Harry responded to her, clearly annoyed at the lack of reaction she was getting from him. 
She took a step closer, sizing Y/N up with an unpleasant expression. She really needed to not make that face- it was unflattering.  “Is this a date or something?” She snapped, her eyes flickering over to Harry.
Harry chuckled at Nina’s question, finding her assumption humorous. 
He looked over at the girl he wished would say yes, his eyes filled with amusement. "What do you think, love?” He taunted.  Maybe it wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but he didn’t particularly care. 
Y/N rolled her eyes. This wasn’t what she wanted out of this interaction. Hell- she never wanted his interaction at all. “We’re shopping.” She said lowly. “And we have to go.”
Nina pursed her lips as her response, clearly unsatisfied with the answer she was given. She never could leave well enough alone. Harry could see her gearing up for another snarky comment, so he quickly interjected. 
"She’s right." He said, his tone firm. “We do have to go. Bye."  There was no hint of remorse on his face as he motioned for her to get out of the way. 
With that, he guided Y/N forward, steering both her and the cart towards the checkout area.
“Christ.” Y/N rubbed her temples. “She’s gonna try and burn my house down. I know it.” She sulked.
Harry chuckled at the outburst. He continued steering the cart towards the checkout area as she went back over the list, a small smile on his lips. 
"Don't be so overdramatic." He teased. "She's not gonna burn down your house. She's just jealous."
“Harry, she’s scared like, 4 women away from hanging out anywhere near you completely.” Y/N sighed. “I know you don’t see it as much, but she’s tenacious. I don’t know what’s going to get her to stop, but you need to actually have a conversation with her to tell her you’re not interested. Or whoever ends up being your girlfriend is going to have to deal with her crawling around.”
Harry’s smile faded slightly as she mentioned Nina’s past behavior. He knew she could be intense and possessive, but he didn’t realize the extent of her actions. Considering he hadn’t even slept with her, it seemed like a massive overreaction. Of course there had been natural curiosity over some of the women in their friend circle had gone, but now that question had been answered. 
He bit his lip, mulling over the words as he helped her load the groceries onto the checkout belt. "You’re right." He said finally, his voice serious as it broke up the beeping of the items being scanned. "I guess I didn’t realize it was that serious. M’sorry. I don't particularly want to have that conversation, but it needs to be had. I’ll talk to her."
Harry continued helping you with the groceries, lost in thought for a moment before speaking again. "I’ll talk to her soon, make sure she knows for sure me and her are never going to be a thing and if she wants to try and scare off anyone I talk to, she won’t be invited to anything else." He said firmly, his eyes serious. 
"But first," he added, breaking the tense air as his tone turned playful again, "We have to get these groceries home. I’m starving."
It was safe to say that she was even more confused than she had started off being. 
Harry helped her bring the groceries into her place. He helped her unpack. He even fed her cat while she washed the fruit so she could put it away. Helping himself to her house like he had a right to be there, a comfortability that had her a little spooked. 
It was hard to accept the thought of Harry actually liking her. First, she hadn’t ever seen him with a serious girlfriend. All she had been exposed to was seeing him fucking around with different people. Secondly, he was always so playful and unserious that internally, the most insecure part of her felt like maybe it was a trick, and it made her more apprehensive of him. 
It wasn’t fair of her to be so judgmental when she was not a virgin mary herself; she knew that she wasn’t giving him a proper shot, but it was scary. He was scary, in a way.  Maybe it was the idea of how far feelings could go if she gave in, but it felt hard to stop those original emotions she had towards him from coming back. 
“Thank you.” She said awkwardly as Harry sat at her breakfast bar. “Um, for helping put away the stuff and bringing it inside. That was really nice of you.”
Harry, who was lounging in a chair at the breakfast bar, chuckled at the awkward gratitude.  "S’no big deal." He said, his tone casual. "I’m happy to help." 
He leaned back in the chair, his eyes roaming over her face, his favorite thing to do. Watching her was the best part of being around her.  He could see the tension in her shoulders and the uncertainty in her expression, and it made him wonder what was going on in that head of hers. Why she was so apprehensive. Yeah, he knew he had a weird dynamic with her before, but no one thought of him as a bad guy.
The longer he looked, the longer Harry could tell that there was something bothering her, and he wanted to find out what. Call it morbid curiosity, but it was needed. He leaned forward a bit, his eyes locked on her pretty face.
"You seem a little tense." He said, his voice soft. "Is everything okay? You've been quiet since we got back."
She hadn’t expected him to call her out on it, but she should have. Harry was as blunt as they came, and she could have laughed at it if she didn’t feel a little anxious. 
“I’m okay.” She wrapped her arms around herself, looking at her feet for a moment the soft green ladybug socks he had given her a laugh over. “I’m a little anxious, I guess. This new dynamic kind of… put me off kilter.” The confession hung in the air before she continued.  “I’m used to you being annoying and… I dunno. It’s unfair of me, but I keep getting nervous that this is some joke to you and you’re gonna go back to being obnoxious once I let my guard down.” She winced. “And I’m sorry. That isn’t fair to you when I know I haven’t been the nicest to you either. But I guess you intimidate me a little.”
Harry listened intently as she spoke, his expression softening as she revealed the source of the troubled look on her face. He knew that he had been a bit of an arse in the past too, and he could understand why his sudden change in behavior had thrown her off. 
He leaned forward on his hands, his gaze still fixed on the girl’s tense stance, lips rolled into her mouth. "I get it." He said quietly. "And I’m sorry if I intimidated you or made you uncomfortable. That’s the last thing I wanted to do."  He ran a hand through his hair, sighing softly. "And as for this being a joke... it’s not. Not in the slightest. Trust me."
“I guess I’m a little confused too.” She admitted. “Where all of this is coming from. I know we hooked up a few weeks ago, but you didn’t call me or anything after. I wasn’t expecting you to, don’t get me wrong, but then I felt awkward seeing you at all the events and stuff and you were acting normal. I never let you get alone with me on purpose because I didn’t want to hear you tease me for giving into you.”
Harry’s expression soured a bit as she brought up the hook-up. He knew he hadn’t done anything to dispel her doubts about his intentions, and he felt a pang of regret.  He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. How could he explain it without sounding as stupid as he felt? “I know I didn’t call you after, and I should have. I was an idiot… I just… I thought maybe you wanted me to chase a bit, that the ball had been left in your court after I dropped you off at home and… and I didn’t think, honestly.”  He ran a hand through his hair, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. 
“You have to understand why I’m a little uneasy.” With arms wrapped around herself, she let herself look back up at him. There was no trace of joking on his features and it did make her feel a tad bit better.  “It’s not that I didn’t like… what we did.” It was the best she’d ever had. “But I think I’m not cut out for just hooking up. I don’t regret it, even if I acted like I did.” She decided to give him a tiny bit of her vulnerability to see what he did with it. “I just know that hooking up, for me, never ends well. And I don’t know you really well, Harry.” She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, nerves shot. The last thing she wanted to do was seem desperate about locking him down or something, but she couldn’t lie to him or herself.
“I’m not trying to make you feel any sort of pressure to want to date me or anything. I’m just trying to lay down a boundary that for me, I think I’m one of those people that really needs an intimate connection and trust with someone. For some reason I trusted you that night, and I know you wouldn’t harm me in that way, but sobered up and standing in front of you, I feel a little apprehensive. Like, I don’t want you to feel any sort of pressure from me, but in order to have me in the way you said you want… it has to have some level of commitment is basically what I’m trying to say.”
Harry listened intently as she laid down the boundaries, his expression thoughtful. He could see the vulnerability in her eyes and in the way she fidgeted with her shirt, and it tugged at his heart in a way he hasn't felt before.  The last thing he wanted was for her to feel any sort of regret and he was glad she hadn’t so far, but he had to appreciate her laying out the law here. It gave him direction on where to go. When she finished speaking, he took a moment to process the words before responding. He can feel the seriousness of the conversation, and it's clear that she wasn’t making demands lightly.
He took a deep breath, his own vulnerability on display in his honest gaze. It was imperative to him that she understood how much he got it. How dedicated he would be to it if given the chance. "I understand." He said quietly, licking over his bottom lip. "I understand that you need a committed relationship, darling. I also understand that you need trust and intimacy in order to get there." he added, his voice soft. 
He took a moment to organize his thoughts, then continued speaking. It should be laid out in front of her. “You know, I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately… about us, I mean.”
“What do you mean?” She asked quietly, taking the moment to look him in the eye. It was the most serious she had ever seen him. Usually he had that smirk on his face, so smug or teasing, he’d be poking and prodding at her to get a reaction- but nothing about this interaction was insincere. It was almost off putting to see him this way.
Harry's gaze met hers, his eyes intense. "I mean that I've been thinking about us in a more serious way." he admitted.  He took a deep breath, his expression tentative. "I know I've been kind of hot and cold with you… and I know that I've played games in the past. But after we hooked up… I really couldn’t stop thinking about you. How different we were like that… How good it felt. So I want you to know that... I don’t want to play games with you. I want t’be serious about this."
Y/N hadn’t expected that answer. In all honesty she thought he’d reject her, say he wasn’t into it and keep it moving. That was what she was prepared for- not this. That sort of confession had her realizing that maybe she really didn’t know him at all. She knew some parts, sure, but seeing him like this was brand new. This man in front of her was a familiar stranger, at least this new side.
“I’d have to get to know you better.” She brushed her hair behind her ear, giving him a tentative look. “And it would be a little slow. I think I could give you a chance, though. I’ve been unfair to you, I think. I feel like we… kind of got off on the wrong foot.”
Harry lets out a small sigh of relief, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I’m okay with slow.” he says, his voice sincere. “I’m willing to work for it.”
He leaned back a bit, giving her a little more space as a hint of his usual playfulness returned to his features.. “And I think you’re right… we got off on the wrong foot. But I’m glad we’re taking the time to get to know each other now.”
——-
—— 
Harry was coming over again. 
It was strange. Since they’d agreed to explore something romantic, seriously, he had changed. Not completely, not to the point where she wondered who he was before, but enough to make her soften up. Hints of him being a pain in the ass we’re still there. But he was… sweet. Genuine. A little silly in a cute way that she hadn’t allowed herself to enjoy before. 
One of the biggest shocks of all, was the fact that he was so gentle with her. He handled her with care, even if he was a little overly touchy. She was getting used to it because she found herself liking it, but he was the first guy to really be a bit of a clinger. 
That was the last thing she had ever expected from him.
His touches were soft and sweet and he looked at her with this little twinkle in his eye that she knew he couldn’t genuinely fake it. He liked her- liked her , liked her. 
She was still a bit shy with him, but it was slowly melting away each time they saw each other. Now the nerves were barely there, being overtaken by anticipation and excitement. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought would happen- being excited and antsy to see Harry, wanting him back in her house. 
He was coming over tonight and she had been prepping for a bit, primping and priming herself even though she wanted to look casual. There was never once so far that he hadn’t told her she looked gorgeous, and it had started becoming part of her daily routine. She wanted to impress him, make him say it again and mean it.
Her tummy twisted as she heard his car door slam shut, smiling to herself as she adjusted her cropped top and went towards the door. 
He was beautiful. Really, gorgeous as she opened the door to reveal him in the early evening light. He looked a little tired from work,slight bags under his eyes, but his smile melted her a little as he walked right into the house, dropping his bag in the foyer with little care for its well-being and picked her up in a big hug. Her feet dangled as she squealed, strong arms wrapped around her waist as he lifted her effortlessly. 
“Hi.” She beamed shyly, feeling him set her down on the floor.
Harry couldn’t help but grin as he placed her down, his strong arms wrapping around her waist lazily.. He loved how delicate she felt in his arms, and he loved the way she squealed with surprise as he lifted her up a bit. Really, he loved most things that had to do with her. Taking a moment to admire her cozy appearance, his gaze lingered on her cropped top. “Hi.” He replied, his voice soft and warm. “You look beautiful.”
Like clockwork.
Before she could respond, Harry was pulling her back into a hug, burying his face in her shoulder as he held her, rocking slightly. A prime example of how touchy he was, unable to stop himself. He nuzzled her neck, letting his cool nose brush against the hot skin. “I missed you.” he mumbled, his voice muffled against her, leaving a little shiver in it’s wake..
When he said things like that it made her want to giggle madly, but also melt into a puddle. He truly meant it, was the thing, and she had a hard time understanding how this had happened. How he had gone from her little enemy to the person she looked toward to seeing the most. 
“I missed you too.” She admitted, fingers tracing down his back. It was an attempt to get more open about her feelings. Harry was being candid about his own, so she felt like she could extend him the same grace. Even if it was slightly terrifying, she had no reason to hold back anymore.
Harry pulled back slightly to look at her, a soft smile on his lips at her shy admission. "I like it when you say that." he teased, his voice low.  He brought his hands up to rest on her hips, his thumbs tracing small circles on the bare skin. He loved the way the cropped top revealed just enough to make him want more, and he found himself struggling to focus on anything but the feel of her body under his hands.
Harry wanted her, and there was obvious desire for her there. In all honesty, there was a lot of desire for her in general that he had done his best to keep under wraps  He’d been so good, trying so hard to prove himself- but that didn’t mean he was a saint. He was beyond attracted to her in every sense of the word, and it was hard to ignore that..
“Excuse me.” She let her smile grow, her tone playful. “My eyes are up here.” 
Y/N knew Harry wanted her in all of the ways, and he’d been exceedingly patient. He knew she was trying to build their connection before getting intimate with him again, and she appreciated it- but that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy knowing he desired her. 
Or that she didn’t have those same urges.
Harry's gaze flicked back up to meet hers, a cheeky grin on his face. "I know where your eyes are. I look at them plenty, do I not?" He replied smoothly, his hands still resting on her waist, giving a gentle squeeze.  He couldn't help but let out a small laugh as she shot him a look, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "But you can't expect me to ignore the rest of you when you're wearing something as distracting as that." Testing the waters, he was seeing how far his flirtation could go.
“It’s loungewear, you freak.” She scoffed, a hint of a smile turning up her lips. Leggings and a cropped top were a bit of a reward for him, though. She figured if he had been so patient with her then he could at least get to look at her. “But I’m glad you like it.” 
Taking his hand in her smaller one, she led him towards the kitchen to show him the pizza boxes and salad she had made to pair with it, feeling weirdly shy about it. That was the theme of today, considering she had come to a conclusion in her head- but he didn’t need to know about it quite yet. “I knew you’d be hungry when you got off work, so I ordered ahead.”
Harry's eyes lit up as he saw the food, warmth spreading through him. No one had been thoughtful like that to him before, but of course she would be. This sort of thing was why he had liked her. He’d seen it time and time again with their other friends and secretly wished for some of it for himself, that sort of care… and now that he got it, he felt that yearning for her get a little bit stronger. He let out a low whistle. "You knew exactly what I needed." he murmured, a grateful smile on his lips. 
Pulling her into him, his arms wrapping around her waist from behind. He nuzzled her neck again, his breath warm on her skin. "You're too good to me." he murmured, his voice showing just how grateful he was.
Y/N shivered slightly as he spoke against her skin, large arms wrapping around her and making her feel that same brand of delicacy that only Harry had been able to accomplish. His arms were just… beautiful. Built and muscular, covered in those tattoos, she loved every single thing about them. Looking at them, feeling them, how he used them… she couldn’t admit it out loud yet, but being in his arms was one of her new favorite places. 
“You texted and said you didn’t sleep well and you had a rougher day at work and… I dunno. I thought maybe you’d like something ready when you came over. I would have cooked myself but I had a workshop.” She rambled on a little bit, feeling the need to overexplain herself.
Harry squeezed her tighter, his chin resting on her shoulder. He inhaled her scent, his nose buried in hair as she spoke. 
"Mmm. " He hummed, his voice low and gravelly. He ran his nose over her throat, lips brushing against the sensitive skin. "You didn't have to do all this, you know." He moved his hands down over her hips, his thumbs tracing soft circles on the exposed skin there. "But I'm really grateful you did." He was quiet for a moment before speaking again, his grip on her tightening slightly. "Can I ask you somethin’?"
“Hm?” She replied. It was hard to focus. Sure, it would be awkward if anyone else say them just standing in her kitchen with the large man wrapped around her body, but no one else was there to judge her for indulging both herself and him in this sort of cuddle. 
Harry's body was pressed against her, a small smile on his lips. He really did enjoy this moment of quiet intimacy just as much as he enjoyed the more energetic moments where they’d go out or he’d help her take care of her garden.
"Can I stay over tonight?"
It should have been a scarier question to her, all things considered, but the answer came out of her mouth naturally. 
“Sure.” She nodded. There was no second guessing it either. “Is that what that bag was?” She realized he had brought in a bigger duffle than his usual work one, but she had thought it was maybe just to change from his work clothes.
Harry's smile grew as she agreed so easily. "Mhmm." he hummed, his voice low. His hands moved up her sides, tracing the curve of her waist. "I wanted to be prepared just in case you said yes." Presumptuous? He’d prefer the terms hopeful, even confident. They’d been doing so well, he had to at least ask.
He pulled back slightly, looking down at her with a hint of a smirk on his face. "So... where can I sleep?"
He turned her in his grip, letting her look up at his face now with narrowed eyes. Her heartbeat quickened though she tried to calm it down. He was teasing her a little bit, but he did genuinely want to know. 
“If you promise no extreme funny business… you can sleep in my bed.” She placed her hand on his bicep, squeezing a little. It was her own reward. “But remember, Harry. No sex. Okay?” Gliding her other hand up to cuff over the back of his neck, she decided it was finally time to tease him back a bit. “However… If you’re really, really nice to me… I may let you kiss me again.”
Harry's smile widened, his eyes sparkling with a hint of challenge. He leaned down, bringing his face closer to the girl’s.  "You're being bold, darling." he teased, his voice low and playful. "Are you trying to tempt me?"
“A little.” She hummed. “I like when you’re sweet to me. So if you keep it up, I’ll let you kiss me as long as you’d like tonight. I know I’ve been holding all of that intimacy hostage…” 
It had been driving him wild. Near kisses and her letting him brush his hand over the curve of her ass a few times before putting them back up to her hips, he’d tested the waters but got rejected. Now, she was loosening up a bit. 
“So.” She blinked up at him. “Are you gonna be nice to me tonight so you can kiss me?”
Harry's eyes glinted with a mixture of desire and playful mischief. He loved it when she teased him just as much as he loved it when she got all shy and flustered. Which one he likes more, he couldn’t tell. "Oh, I'll be so nice to you tonight you won't be able to stand it." he purred, his voice low and husky. 
He wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her closer until their bodies were flush against each other. "But I have one condition, little miss."
“What is that?” She questioned, unsure what it could be. With him, it could be anything.
"You have to promise me that if I'm being too... forward, you'll tell me to back off. I don't want to overstep. Even though I want to kiss you until you can't think straight. So promise me you'll speak up if I get too much." 
Her smile widened, nodding in agreement. He’d just earned himself quite a few points. Never had she expected him to be as respectful as he was, but she utterly adored it.  “I will. I promise, I’ll tell you.” She agreed, leaning up to kiss the curve of his jaw. “But it’s time for you to eat. I can feel your tummy grumbling.”
Harry let out a low chuckle, his eyes flickering over her pretty face. He loved the way her smile widened, and the feeling of her plump lips against his jaw send a shiver down his spine. More. He wanted more, and more, until their mouths were tingling and numb. Until she looked drunk on the kisses, clinging to him like he could only hope.
"Mmm. Okay, fine." he grumbled. "I'll eat. But only if you feed me, since you were so kind as to order ahead for me." He gave her a puppy-dog look, his lower lip jutted out in a mock-pout. It was good, she’s give him that- but not good enough.
“Absolutely not.” She snorted. “Nice try.”
930 notes · View notes
likeumeanit9497 · 2 days
Text
i know you know | m.s. |
matt sturniolo x fem!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
summary: after a night at a party, matt hears his best friend sleeping with someone. the memory of it overtakes him all the next day, and he can't get it off his mind. but what happens when it turns out that she wanted him to hear all along?
warnings: SMUT (holy fuck this is smutty); established friendship; oral (m/f receiving); unprotected p in v (don't do this); absolutely filthy talk; voyeurism vibes; switch!matt; mentions of alcohol; 18+
notes: guys i fear i might have just written my new fave one shot. i warned y'all that i only have matt ideas rn, but this one is SO GOOD i had to post immediately. i normally don't go feral for my own writing but this one made me get up and do a few laps around the house tbh. i hope y'all like it as much as i liked writing it LOVE U LOVE U LOVE U MUAH
─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─
“Matt?” You called his name as you began climbing up his front steps. “Hey, I’m doing laundry.” His voice rang through the house, and as you entered the empty kitchen you saw his back in the hallway as he folded a pair of jeans and placed them on the neat pile of clean laundry stacked on top of the washing machine. You wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your head on his shoulder for a moment half in greeting and half to help ease the pounding in your heavy head.
“Last night almost killed me. How are you feeling?” You asked him, lifting your head off of his shoulder so that he could face you. His eyes were tired, his hair was a mess, but there was a slight glint of curiosity in his eyes that caught you off guard. After staring at you for a moment too long, he replied. “I feel alright. Slept most of the day though.” You released a soft laugh.
Last night, you and Matt went to a big party for one of your mutual friends. What was supposed to be an early night — both of you agreeing to show face for an hour and then head home — turned into one filled with dancing, too much tequila, and a night spent on the couch of the host for you both. Once you were both sober in the morning, Matt drove you home and you both tended to your own hangovers for the rest of the day. Now it was Sunday evening, and you two decided to spend it watching a movie and eating shitty food.
“Same here,” You replied, “I literally rolled out of bed 30 minutes ago. You’re lucky I even had enough energy to drive over here.” You leaned against the running dryer, and watched as one of Matt’s eyebrows arched as he continued folding clothes. “Oh, I don’t doubt that.” He replied, a smile threatening to creep over his mouth. Noticing the knowing tone in his voice, you grew confused.
What you didn’t know, was that Matt knew that it wasn’t just the two of you who had spent the night on that sectional couch. He had noticed you spending a lot of time with Carrington, a good friend of the host. He watched the two of you throughout the night — he saw you touch him any chance you got; saw you dance on him once you got really drunk; and most definitely saw you press your lips to his at the end of the night. So, late last night as he tried his best to sleep, when he heard the creek of the stairs and felt the dip in the couch, he knew that Carrington had laid down with you. That was confirmed when he heard the soft whispers that you two shared before the sound of wet kisses filled the dark room. A moment later, he laid as still as he could as he felt the couch begin to move in a rhythm that could only mean one thing.
Although you and Matt had the type of strong friendship where you both felt comfortable telling the other about your sex lives, never before had either of you been so close in proximity to the act itself. Although he was facing the opposite direction, Matt knew that your feet were only centimetres from his head, and the thought of invading your privacy like this, albeit unintentional, made his cheeks flush red. Even in his belligerent state, Matt had been shocked, and he considered making the fact that he was still awake known. Until he heard it.
Your soft moans floated like music in his mind, and they were unlike anything he had heard before. They were angelic, breathless; as if the air was being pushed out of your lungs involuntarily to create the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. The heat that he felt in his cheeks immediately began travelling down his body, right to his growing member. And then, the unmistakable wet sounds of your arousal — surely dripping from you not more than two feet away from his ear — caused his head to spin. The two sounds radiating from you created the perfect harmony, and they made his cock press excruciatingly against his stomach; desperate for some relief.
The movement of the couch — and with it, your moans and wetness — increased in speed. As it did, your soft voice, so familiar and divine, whispered into the quiet room, “I’m gonna cum!” Matt pressed his pelvis into the couch, doing his best to relieve some of the pressure he felt in the tip of his cock. As your moans got louder, his heart pounded faster. Suddenly, as you reached your orgasm and began riding the waves, he felt one of your feet lightly graze his bare back. Goosebumps immediately rose on his skin, and the slight contact in combination with everything he heard was so intense that he thought he was going to cum all over himself.
But just then, the room grew painfully silent once again. After some time, the indistinguishable whispering returned, then the sound of one quick kiss, and finally, the creaking sound of the stairs. You two were alone once again, and in the silence Matt began to question whether or not he had dreamt it all. That was, until he heard your soft voice whisper his name. Immediately, he felt his body react, but stayed as still as possible so that you would think he was asleep. He seemed to do a good enough job, as after not getting a response, you slowly got off the bed and walked to the bathroom.
Once he heard the door click shut, his eyes shot open. The air was filled with the addictive smell of sex, and his cock had grown so hard that it was throbbing. Tentatively, he ran his hand along his shaft still in his boxers and had to stifle a guttural moan from the brief contact. No, he couldn’t do this here. Not when you were in the next room able to walk back through the door at any moment. He didn’t want you to think he was a creep. He would just have to try to get to sleep, and deal with his spiralling brain tomorrow.
Well, now it was tomorrow, and he had spent the entire day thinking about it. When he had woken up to your smiling face asking for a ride home, he had felt riddled with guilt; as if he had taken advantage of you. The guilt was only exemplified when, once he was alone, he had spent every minute thinking about it; his dick growing hard every time he heard your moans in the back of his mind. Even as he slept the day away, he had dreams about it and had even woken himself up by grinding his hips against his mattress. It had been driving him crazy, and now you were standing in front of him, seemingly oblivious to everything that had been running through his mind, and he didn’t know what to do with himself.
“Hello? Earth to Matt?” Your voice pulled him out of his train of thought, and immediately his cheeks flushed when he realized that he had been completely zoned out for god knows how long. “Oh, uh, sorry.” He mumbled, folding the shirt he had in his hands. “You’ve deadass folded and re-folded that shirt like five times. Are you okay?” You asked, concern etched across your face. Gulping, Matt nodded his head. “Shit really? Must be the brain fog.” He forced out a laugh that sounded painful to his own ears, but it seemed to be convincing enough for you, as you once again relaxed against the dryer.
Matt’s focus went back to the pile of clothes in front of him, and as he began organizing the pile of socks, he heard what he had been reimagining over and over again in his mind. That now achingly familiar soft moan of yours. His whole body jolted in shock, the sound much more vivid than it had been in his memory. Slowly, his eyes were pulled from the laundry to your face, and he found your eyes shut in ecstasy as you leaned against the running dryer. His jaw almost dropped at the sight, and his cock, already having been on high alert all day, immediately responded.
“This feels so good.” You whispered, just as you had the night before, and Matt had to brace himself against the washing machine to stay upright. Your eyes were still closed, a small smile crept onto your full lips, and in that moment it all became too much for him. His cock was pulsing in rhythm with his rapid heartbeat, and as you released another small moan and bit your bottom lip, he began to wonder if maybe — just maybe — you had wanted him to hear you last night.
His hunch grew stronger and stronger as he continued to take in your expression with your back pressed against the dryer, and he felt the shame strip off of him as your hooded eyes finally opened slowly. They landed on his dilated eyes and slowly trailed down to the impressive bulge in his pants. Looking back up at his flushed face, you couldn’t help but smile shamelessly. Because he had been right.
It hadn’t been planned, of course, but once Carrington pushed himself into you, the thought of Matt being just on the other side of the couch filled you with a new and unfamiliar level of arousal. So as you moaned, you hoped that he would hear it. The thought of him listening caused you to grow more wet than you ever had before, and it didn’t take long for you to finish. As you came, you purposefully brushed your foot against him; trying to let him know that it was him you were thinking about as you unraveled.
You hadn’t been sure that he heard you, after all when you whispered his name he hadn’t answered, but the way he had been acting since you arrived at his house today — zoning out, avoiding eye contact, and seeming extremely flustered — you know that he knows. And knowing the effect it had on him, you want him to do something about it.
Matt watched as you put both hands on the dryer before hoisting yourself up to sit on it. With the dryer running, the vibration that came from it shot right to your core, and subconsciously your eyes rolled to the back of your head.
Matt watched, completely stunned, as you pleasured yourself on top of the dryer. He was in such a state of shock that he wasn’t even sure if this was real life. You rolled your hips once, twice, against the machine, and then suddenly your eyes were on him again. The pleasure you were experiencing was etched into your face — your full lips a dark shade of red, dark eyebrows knit together, pink cheeks flushed — and it drove him crazy. But it wasn’t until your lips turned up in a small smile and you grabbed his arm, pulling him towards you, that he was finally able to move.
“You heard me last night, didn’t you.” You finally regarded the elephant in the room, and watched as his eyes bulged slightly in surprise at your knowing gaze. Very slightly, he nodded his head; his eyes were planted on your lips. “Should we talk about it?” You asked, dragging your fingertips up and down his torso slowly; feeling his stomach tense each time you reached below his belly button. Still hypnotized by your lips, Matt placed his hands on each side of your face before shaking his head no.
Without hesitation, he engulfed your mouth with his own. They moved with a quivering desperation that can’t be sufficiently described with words. His hands ran through your hair, pulling you as close to him as he could. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, gasping at the feeling of his rock hard member pressing against your aching core. It seemed to affect him too, because as soon as they made contact a small grunt fell from his lips and landed on yours.
Matt’s hands eventually moved from your hair and snaked down to your waist, where he quickly pulled your loose-fitting sundress up and exposed your bare tits. You watched as he took a moment to admire their fullness before bringing his mouth to one. He nibbled and sucked on your sensitive nipple, shooting rays of pleasure down your spine. As he moved his mouth to your second tit, he gripped harshly onto your hips. With his grasp, he expertly titled your pelvis in such a way where your cunt was pressed directly against the dryer; causing moans to spill from your mouth from the vibration.
As he helped you roll your hips against the warm metal, he struggled to keep his composure as he heard you moan for himfor the first time. Just like last night, they were soft and breathy, as if you didn’t even notice them falling from your lips. But his ears caught every single one, and they drove him crazier each time. Looking down to where your body connected with the machine, his vision grew blurry as he noticed the fluid that had accumulated on top of the dryer; the same fluid that he had heard last night. “Mmm, so wet already?” He managed to purr in your ear, causing you to shudder in pleasure.
You nodded, letting your head fall back as the pleasure intensified by his words. “F-for you Matt— fuck! — all f-for you.” At your words, Matt stopped all of his movements, afraid that he would fall apart in seconds if you kept speaking like that. Looking up at your disoriented face, he noticed that the loss of friction was making you antsy. You hooked a small finger in his chain and pulled his lips to yours; kissing him deeply as his tongue swiped against your teeth begging for entrance. You pulled away, needing more than a kiss, and watched in awe as Matt read your mind and dropped to his knees in front of you. He brought his hands up to your hips where he grabbed onto the sides of your thong, slowly sliding it down your legs.
You watched, chest heaving, as he tossed your discarded thong into his pile of laundry that still needed to be washed without letting his eyes leave your dripping core. His eyes on you like this was exactly what you imagined as you thought of him last night, and the neediness in his blue eyes threw you into an erotic frenzy. He grabbed both of your legs and, after stroking them thoughtlessly for a few seconds, placed them on both of his shoulders. Eyes flittering between your core and your face, he spoke, “Need a taste.” His voice was gruff with arousal, and you responded by lacing your hands through his hair and pushing his beautiful face in between your legs.
As soon as his tongue ran up your slit to collect your arousal, he lost any hint of sanity that he still had. You were so sweet against his tastebuds, and so soft against his lips, it took everything out of him to not cream his pants. Instead, he effortlessly found your aching clit and began sucking and kissing the sensitive bundle of nerves. Already stimulated by the dryer, you felt yourself melt under the pressure of his tongue. He couldn’t stop himself from moaning against you, causing the vibration to echo through your entire body. You mindlessly began grinding yourself against his face, chasing a high so intense that nothing else seemed to matter.
Matt relished in the feeling of suffocating by you, and used his hands to spread you apart. He pulled away for a brief moment to take a look at you stretched open for him, and the sight of your dripping hole — begging, without words, to be filled — made him want to pull his cock out and slam it into you immediately. But no, he was going to savour this. So instead, he spit onto your cunt and began tongue fucking your hole. As he eagerly drank up all your juices, his tongue moving in and out of you quickly, you lost the ability to stifle your moans.
Even though he knew you were getting too loud — after all, Nick and Chris were somewhere in the house — Matt couldn’t get himself to shut you up. The sounds that fell from your lips were like music to his ears, and he wanted to listen to them forever. Besides, how could he tell you that you were being too loud when he was making all sorts of erotic noises with his mouth against your cunt?
Your head fell back against the dryer, it wouldn’t be long until you came. The build up was so intense, so good, that you almost didn’t want it to end. Plus, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Matt’s poor cock, suffocating in his pants. As you imagined it, veiny and dark red at the tip, your mouth began to water. After coming back from the washroom and getting back on the couch last night, you glanced at Matt’s still frame and wondered if — even subconsciously, if he hadbeen sleeping — his body had reacted to what had happened. Your suspicion was furthered the next morning. When you went to wake him up to ask if he could drive you home, the blanket had slipped off of his lower body and exposed the imprint of his hardened cock; and your mouth watered. Since then, you had fantasized about taking all of him in your mouth as an apology for not helping him out that morning.
These thoughts raced through your bleary mind, and the pressure continued to increase in your lower stomach at Matt’s relentless tongue in between your legs. You wanted to cum, badly, but even more than that you wanted to get a taste of him. Just the thought of his warm cock in your throat caused your back to arch and a moan to slip from your lips, so in a frenzy you grabbed his jaw and pulled his mouth from your core. Cool air quickly replaced his warm tongue, and you cringed at the loss of contact. Matt looked up at you, his eyes hooded in contentment and his lips and chin coated with your arousal. “What’s wrong?” He asked, taking in your expression.
Without saying anything, you turned your body so that you were now facing the wall behind the dryer. Carefully, you lowered your torso so that you were now laying against the machine, legs bent and facing away from Matt; your view now being his frame upside down. Confused, Matt took a few steps back so that he could look at your face. You lock eyes with him, and he chuckles softly. “What are you doing?” His voice is still deeper than usual, and your view of his bulge makes it clear that he is in desperate need of you. “Want you to fuck my throat.” You replied simply, watching as his eyes darken in arousal while his eyebrows knit together in relief.
Without hesitation, Matt begins frantically removing his grey sweatpants. His cock has been achingly hard since last night with little to no relief, and your words shot straight to it. The filthy talk falling from your lips was still so foreign to him, but that unfamiliarity was addicting. He pulled his boxers down and finally freed his cock from its restraint, and even the feeling of it slapping his stomach on release was enough to make him shudder in pleasure.
As soon as your eyes fell to his exposed cock, your mouth watered. It was so perfect, so plump, you couldn’t wait to wrap your lips around it. As he took a step forward, you impatiently opened your mouth wide; not wanting to wait another second. Luckily, the feeling was mutual, and after tapping your mouth with his cock twice, he slides just the tip in. Already, the feeling of your warm mouth wrapped around him causes him to see stars, and he doesn’t even move for a few moments as you swirl your tongue around his tip. You find the bead of pre-cum dripping from his slit, and lap it up indulgently.
You want more of him, so in a desperate act you begin trying to bob your head while upside down in order to travel down his shaft. Your desperation gets to Matt, and, recognizing that you want more of him, he begins thrusting his hips slowly into your mouth. Even with only half of him in your mouth, you can feel his tip hitting the back of your throat with each thrust, and all it does is make you want more. You wrap your lips as tightly as you can around his girth, and the hushed groans that fall from his lips tell you that he’s enjoying himself.
You begin to grow frustrated, not content with the fact that you haven’t had all of him in your mouth yet. So you reach up and grab firmly on his hips, opening your throat to allow his entire length access as you pushed him forward. Matt hissed, overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock sinking deeper into your throat, and that was when he lost all control.
Matt grabbed onto the sides of your neck to brace himself before finally driving his cock all the way down your throat. He started slow, sliding it all the way down, holding it in place for a moment, and then pulling it nearly all the way out before doing it all over again; but once he realized that not only could you take all of him, but that you also enjoyed it, he started picking up the pace. He watched your throat as he fucked it, and noticed that he could actually see his cock going all the way down it; causing his vision to go blurry. “Fuck, baby.” He moaned out, his voice shaky as he struggled to not lose himself.
You were in heaven, the feeling of his cock filling your throat caused your body to flood with heat, and you couldn’t stop your hand from finding your clit and rubbing it in rhythm with Matt’s thrusts. Noticing your hand, Matt quickly swatted it away before replacing it with his own; the softness of your wet cunt enough to cause his cock to twitch; threatening to shoot his seed down your throat. But he didn’t want to cum; not until he felt all of you.
In the blink of an eye, he pulled his dripping cock out of your throat; causing you to gasp for air. Before you had the chance to question anything, he grabbed you under your arms and pulled you off of the dryer before slamming you against the wall in the hallway. The wind was knocked out of you, but Matt didn’t give you a minute to recover before lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist; keeping you pressed to the wall. His mouth found yours again, and the taste of you on his explorative tongue was enticing. With his mouth still on yours, the tip of Matt’s cock practically finds your opening itself, and it was so hard he didn’t even have to stabilize it with his hand before it slipped into you; stretching your walls and filling you up completely.
As soon as he bottomed out, he released a deep, guttural moan that echoed in your ears. Fighting a moan of your own, you grabbed the back of his neck. “Shh!” You whispered, looking into his eyes through droopy eyelashes. He snapped his cock into you. “You didn’t seem too concerned with staying quiet last night.” Matt’s words were strained as he tried to control his thrusts. Still looking at him in the eyes, a sinister smile crosses your face at him actually wanting to talk about last night for the first time.
He picked up on the reasoning behind your smile, and he snapped his hips again; causing you to yelp. “So you did want me to hear, hmm?” His head moved to the crook of your neck, and his lips against your ear caused goosebumps to raise on your skin. As he thrusted into you, all you could do was nod. “Do you know — ah fuck — do you know how bad my cock has been aching for you all day?” His words caused the pressure in your stomach to triple, and the thought of him being desperate to be inside of you caused your back to arch against the wall.
“M-made me feel like a creep all day, and for what? Hmm?” Matt grabbed your jaw and made you face him. He continued driving himself into you as he stared lustfully at your face. His thumb pressed against your bottom lip and you opened your mouth; letting his thumb fall in before wrapping your lips around it and sucking innocently. “Fuck baby,” He grumbled, watching your lips as your tongue swirled around his thumb. “Tell me.” His eyes were pleading with you, and you knew he was close, but he wasn’t gonna cum until you told him the truth. “W-wanted you to k-know what it’s l-like — fucking me. Wanted y-your cock h-hard for me.” You managed to tell him the truth. “Jesus Christ.” Matt moaned out in response, grabbing the base of your hair before slamming his cock in and out of you faster than he had before. Each time his cock hit your g-spot, your head slammed against the wall behind you; adding a new intensity to the fast-approaching orgasm you were feeling.
“Shit, gonna cum. Where do you want me?” His voice was ragged, as was his pace, and the desperation laced throughout the sloppiness drew you even closer to the edge. “As deep as you can get Matty.” You whispered in his ear just before you were overtaken by your own orgasm. As he continued to thrust into you, you felt your walls convulse around his girth. Your legs wrapped even tighter around his waist, toes curling as the waves of your orgasm crashed around you.
As you were still in the middle of cumming all over him, Matt suddenly snapped his cock hard and deep into you; spilling his seed deep in your guts, just like you asked, as a deep ragged moan fell from his mouth. Your hungry cunt milked his dick dry, and the intensity of filling you up with the nut that had been debilitating him all day was like no other orgasm he had ever experienced.
You could feel his cock twitch repeatedly as he filled your insides with his hot white cum, and his soft moans of pure relief in your ear were as continuous as your own as you both fell into a deep trance. As you both came down from your highs, Matt held you against the wall; brushing his fingertips softly against the skin on your upper thigh. You had never had sex so satisfying, so deliciously exhausting, and you were in such a haze that you could have easily fallen asleep right there, pressed against the wall.
But after a few moments, Matt carefully slid his shaft out of you and helped you to your feet. He took a moment to admire you, fixing your hair and pulling down your dress, before leading you to his washroom. “You’re a little psycho, you know that right?” He asked jokingly as he started the shower. You stood in front of the mirror, taking in your reflection; evidence of Matt’s touch all over you. You smiled at him as he helped you take off your dress. “I’m sorry.” You replied, to which he rolled his eyes. “No you’re not. But do me a favour, next time you want me to fuck you, just tell me, alright?”
Your stomach did an excited flip from his unexpected words, and you walked into the shower on shaky legs. Turning around to face him standing by the washroom door, you found him staring indulgently at your naked frame. You put your hands on your hips and huffed dramatically. “Okay, get in here. I want you to fuck me.”
─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─
877 notes · View notes
g0dlyunsub · 3 days
Text
under pressure.
Tumblr media
getting strapped up to a lie detector as part of a bet wasn’t exactly in your plans, nor was exposing your deepest secret to spencer reid.
pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader
warnings :: fluff! confessions, coworkers to lovers, cheesiness overload 
word count :: 1.6k
author’s note :: three weeks since i last posted a fic?? absolutely unacceptable *presses post button*
accompanying song :: more than friends by aidan bissett
Tumblr media
“there’s a reason why that thing’s admissible in court,” you murmur to derek, watching as the officer packs the polygraph back into a cabinet.
derek chuckles.
“you think you can beat it?”
“i know i can beat it.”
you cross your arms and look up with a challenging smirk.
“there’s actually a lot of skepticism surrounding the validity and accuracy of polygraph testing, especially since it’s only an instrument that measures physiological changes like heart activity and perspiration. people often mistakenly assume they’re trying to deceive a machine, when really it’s all about the polygrapher, who oversees and administers the examination.”
you don’t even have to turn your head to know it’s spencer who’s just made his way into the room, derek’s lifted brow a confirmation of his presence.
“ah, look who’s finally found us. i was starting to miss you a little, kid.” 
“what are you guys up to?” spencer asks in return, his gaze shifting from you to derek, before slowly making way back to you. 
“l/n thinks she’ll pass the test with flying colors.” derek points at the cabinet and looks at you with a winsome grin.
“i won’t even have to try.” you shrug, placing your hands on your hips confidently.
“wanna bet on it?”
“loser pays for dinner. reid, you in?”
“i uh, i think i’ll just watch,” spencer politely declines, his hands nervously burrowing deep into his pockets.
derek bursts into laughter. “oh come on, kid, it’s free dinner for the both of us.” 
spencer chuckles quietly. “we’ll see.”
you make your way over to the cabinet, kneeling to retrieve the bulky device, and set it down on the table behind you. 
taking a seat, you lift your arms to secure the straps above and below your chest, and attach the blood pressure cuffs to your right arm. 
“nuh-uh.” 
you hear derek tut a sequence of disapproving clicks.
“hey kid, check to see if it’s around her securely.” derek tilts his head at spencer before nodding in your direction, adding, “don’t want you deceiving us in other ways.”
you roll your eyes before raising your arms in surrender. “go ahead, i’ve got nothing to hide.”
spencer slowly approaches you, hesitant steps overtaking his stride as he moves to stand in front of you. positioning a hand on your back for support, spencer sticks a finger between the gaps of the sides of your chest and the straps.
the straps tighten ever so slightly, causing your breath to hitch in the back of your throat. almost like an unconscious reflex, you release a breathy exhale.
“is that too tight?”
it’s barely a whisper, and he’s close, so close — his lips hover practically right beside your ear that you can feel his breath tickle the hairs on your neck.
“no,” you let out, “it’s good.”
your heart’s pounding now, and you’re thankful that you’re not hooked up to the monitor rate, at least not yet. 
“just slide your finger into the clamp,” spencer instructs, his hand guiding yours into the plate where the electrodes lightly pinch your fingertips.
“is that comfortable?” spencer asks once again, his furrowed brows an indicator of marked concern as he searches for any signs of discomfort.
“yup.”
you bite your bottom lip as spencer hooks the cords to the monitor. his attentive eyes gloss over your strapped arm and flick downwards, stopping once they take note of your bouncing legs. you still your legs almost immediately.
“alright l/n, here’s a tester.” derek approaches you and lays his hands on the table, leaning forward. “have you ever lied to get out of trouble?”
you don’t even need to think twice. with a daring grin, you respond, “yes.”
“it’s stable,” spencer nods.
a mischievous smirk plays on derek’s lips. 
“have you ever lied to hotch before?”
you huff an amused chuckle, one laced with throaty disbelief. “no.”
derek rolls his eyes, but spencer nods in your direction. “steady.” 
“oh come on, not even once?”
you raise an eyebrow as if to challenge him. “why… have you?”
“this is about you, remember?” derek wiggles a finger disapprovingly. “next one… have you ever had any romantic feelings for anyone on our team?”
it's a question you were most definitely not expecting.
it’s only a brief pause, but it’s long enough to have you doubting – are your eyes widening? are your parting lips betraying you? is it actual sweat that’s starting to coat the tips of your fingers or are you imagining it?
“no, i have not.”
you feel heat start to creep into your cheeks, but try your best to remain unfazed as you await spencer’s judgment.
“give me… one second.”
the air suddenly feels ten times heavier.
a nervous chuckle escapes from your lips as you glance around. 
“try not to bounce your leg up and down,” spencer finally calls back, and you have to physically restrain yourself from sighing in relief. 
“alright, let’s try again,” derek announces as he finally takes a seat across from you. “have you ever had feelings for… doctor spencer reid?”
your instantaneous scoff overlaps with spencer’s. before you can respond, however, spencer chirps up first.
“y/n, don’t – don’t answer that.”
you, too, try to dodge the question with a dismissive wave. “come on, derek.”
thankfully, he rests the question aside. “fine. have you ever passed your files to someone else without them knowing?”
“yes.”
“to who?”
“to you, actually,” you boldly assert, leaning back into your chair.
“oh, she’s a rebel,” derek slyly retorts back, his gaze unflinching as spencer affirms your claim.
“did you, at any point, lie during this test?”
“no.”
“alright,” derek continues, “last question.”
“bring it.”
“do you currently have any romantic feelings for spencer reid?”
“seriously?” you swivel your head back and forth between derek and spencer, your eyes widening in disbelief at the fact that he’s repeating a previous question, merely adjusting a couple words.
it’s a question that you can’t answer. no, that you shouldn’t answer.
but this time, spencer’s quiet.
“you’re kidding me,” you laugh, “we are not being for real right now.”
“oh i’m being very real right now.” 
your heart thumps like a wild drumbeat, your pulse echoing through the veins marking the side of your neck. 
you start to lace your fingers together nervously as a thin layer of sweat covers your palms. the more you think about your moist hands, though, the more you start to sweat. it’s a constant feedback loop, feeding off of your deeply-buried secret.
slowly, you take off the straps and set the electrode in front of you, on the table. 
radio silence falls over the air disturbingly, like the entire room’s tuned to the wrong frequency. 
then, “reid, did you get that?”
it takes another five seconds for sound to fill the room once again, but the gravity of the silence is almost too heavy for you to register – your wordless confession strikes the back of your mind like an unpleasant storm, raining down on your thoughts with regret and humiliation.
“y/n, um, there’s a lot of environmental factors that can impact physiological response-”
there’s no going back anymore. 
if you don't say it now, it'll linger in the depths of your mind forever.
“i do like you.”
when there’s no response, you decide to fully commit to your confession. “you said so yourself, this isn’t about fooling the device, it’s all about the polygrapher. so, spencer, what’s your judgment?”
you swear you can hear your own pulse drumming against you and shaking your body. with the faintest whisper, spencer utters, “i think you’re telling the truth.”
after hearing his response, you shove your hands into your pockets and prepare to leave, but not without throwing a glance at derek, who’s guiltily tracing the edges of his beard.
as you approach the door, however, a hand hooks around your elbow, stopping you dead in your tracks.
spencer’s hand.
“that’s it? you’re not going to hear my response?”
you don’t look up. “no, i… fine, tell me.”
if only you knew about the collective swarm of thoughts swimming in his brain, the thoughts that are denaturing all his senses of rationality and self-control. he has so much to tell you, words that he’d spill almost instantly if he’d been better prepared.
his hand moves down to envelop your own. 
you do nothing to stop him. 
slowly, he drags your hand upwards, until it rests against his chest.
against his speeding heart.
“spencer?”
the glow in his eyes is unmistakable – his dewy orbs gaze into yours lovingly, the exchange almost a confession in itself.
“i don’t think that either of us can beat the test,” spencer softly murmurs, his breathy chuckle sounding like music to your ears.
you don’t know how to describe it – it’s a bittersweet concoction of emotions that continues to spread throughout your body the more spencer nuzzles up against you.
“no,” you voice after a pause, “i don’t think we can.”
“very cute guys, but i’m waiting on my victory dinner, so if you two can-”
“oh shush, derek, you’re ruining the moment,” you say as you break into laughter, and bury your head against spencer’s chest when you fail to recover your composure.
“and you’re gonna have to pay me extra if you want me to keep my mouth shut in front of all the others,” derek retaliates, his smug grin causing you to roll your eyes. 
“i think i can wrap the straps around his mouth if you hold him against the door,” you start while looking up into spencer’s eyes, speaking loud enough to draw derek’s attention.
spencer returns with a wide smile, one that tugs at your throat to release another hearty laugh.
“yeah, i’ll grab his arms first.”
718 notes · View notes
luveline · 1 day
Note
hi hii jade! Was wondering if you could do something sweet and fluffy w poly!marauders where reader wakes up in a very cozy and giggly mood 🤭 just some warm domestic love hehe
thank you for requesting! fem, 1k
Someone is kissing his waist. Sirius squirms in his dozing, not expecting it as those kisses travel up his naked chest. Your laugh is breathy and soft as you kiss his shoulder, your weight strewn across his side and arm, your hand finding his cheek. 
Your fingers feel inhuman in the best way, like an angel. They spread across his face and neck as you hold him in place and kiss the skin where his neck meets his shoulder. “I love you…” you whisper, the ‘you’ turning long and slow like honey slipping down his front. “I wish you didn’t sleep so much.” 
You kiss him again, and with that you’re out of bed. Out of the room before Sirius has time to gather his wits, but he does gather them, because he needs more of whatever that was. 
What sort of sweetheart kisses somebody with such gentleness thinking they won’t remember? To press affection into him with want of nothing in return. He doesn’t even bother getting dressed, just scrubs at his sleep-swollen face and fishes the crusties from his eyes as he descends the stairs, numb-legged. 
James is grabbing you by the hips, helping you up onto the counter. His curls bounce at the back of his neck. “What’s gotten into you?” he asks. 
“Love, for sure.” 
“I can see that. Eggs? Omelette?” 
“Jamie, you can make anything. Actually, let me make you something–”
James pushes you further onto the top. “That’s okay, I’m cooking. I want to cook.” 
Sirius isn’t insecure, exactly. He feels he’s quite handsome when he attempts to be, and he knows you like him whether he’s trying or not, but he doesn’t know if you want to be interrupted, either of you, and it’s his private agony to wonder what to do. Then you spot him over James’ shoulder and your eyes practically sparkle. 
“Siri…” you sing-song, melodic as he crosses the kitchen linoleum to be with you and James. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.” 
Sirius touches James’ elbow with love but swoops in on you. “Did you wake me?” he asks, kissing your cheek, his arms working behind you to hold you as his lips travel downward. He isn’t half as sweet as you were, too busy trying to squeeze your torso against his and mould you into a perfect fit against him and under his arm to really think about what he’s doing. 
“She did it to me, too.” 
Sirius pulls your face into his neck and turns to James with a grin. “And Remus?” 
“He was already awake. But she kissed him and did that thing where her eyes somehow look bigger and shiny and he had to go for a walk.” 
“He didn’t have to go for a walk,” you mumble from Sirius’ neck. “He always walks on Saturday mornings. He’s just getting some herbs from the greenhouse.” 
The back door opens on cue. Remus reappears with an aura about him much like yours, dropping the cut herbs on the cutting board, and stopping just shy of everyone to smile. “Did she do it to you, as well?” he asks. 
James squeezes Remus’ face in his hand, a quick thank you for the herbs that has the latter turning pink. 
“She waylaid me with kisses like a common whore.” 
“Sirius,” James says scornfully. 
“Me being the whore,” Sirius says. You laugh into his neck, seemingly with no inclination to leave the circle of his arms. “Will I ever see your face again?” he asks. 
“It’s cozy here. I wish we’d stayed in bed.” 
“We can go back.” 
“After breakfast,” James says, popping an egg on the edge of the frying pan, breaking the shell one handed as he gives the sizzling oil a shake. 
Remus not so subtly crosses the last of the space to slot himself between your right thigh and the counter. Sirius has the urge to cup his cheek as James had done —Remus has an extremely holdable face— but is distracted by your nose nuzzling the line of his throat. 
“I love you,” you say. 
Doesn’t matter who you’re talking to. All three boys melt. 
“I’d like to do some really weird things to you,” Sirius says. 
“Me too,” James agrees. “But we do need breakfast first.” 
“No one is doing anything weird to me, it’s the weekend.” You beam as Remus laughs, seemingly your intention. 
Sirius backs away to a polite but still close proximity. He isn’t selfish; being in a ‘strange’ relationship like this one is a lot of reading cues, and a lot of just plain old climbing into people's laps when you want them, because nobody can truly read minds. Yet Sirius can see that you’re in the sort of mood where everything you touch turns to gold and all the boys want a piece of you, and who is he to get in the way of that? 
Well, he’s your boyfriend. He takes a kiss before he delegates himself to being herb-chopper, stealing glances of you from the corner of his eye. 
You tease a strand of Remus’ hair behind his ear. 
“Weird stuff is for weekdays only,” you’re murmuring. “What I want today is the real romantic stuff.” 
“Then you can have it,” Remus murmurs back. 
Sirius will happily be doing very romantic things to both of you after his omelette. James, too, if he’s so inclined. 
653 notes · View notes
gangplanksorenji · 2 days
Text
Magnitude
Pairing: LE SSERAFIM’s Chaewon x Male Reader ft. ITZY’s Yeji
Word Count: 13,912
A/N: Hallo again Orenjideul! I don't know what or who possessed me to write this yet here we are. Thanks to @kooyabooya for betareading and the insights! Enjoy reading and hope you like this one! god this is the longest i've ever written i would need some nice hibernative lobotomy right after.
A sequel to Pulchritude
---------------------
Tumblr media Tumblr media
---------------------
“Wait, this feels good—what’s happening?”
You’re in this lucid state, feeling everything is written to your own fate—you have the pen, writing your own story onto your own book yet this one feels different, and it’s more than this reality.
You break into this trance, cracking the code and guess what, the culprit was just a meter away, and down to your southern peripherals.
A faint blur distracts you from your drowsy state, far from regaining the peak state of your senses as you involuntarily call her name and hear her little chuckle. You wouldn’t expect waking up to such a delightful sight and moreover, making yourself closer to the edge.
“Hope you didn’t mind this—sorry for waking you up…” Yeji’s gaze shoots a primal instinct up in your spine, an instinct somewhat close to arousal as you quickly regain your senses to assess the situation that’s been happening.
“Hah—you’re clearly in need, Yeji.” Your voice feels raspy that usual and it’s no surprise. She smiles while still maintaining her eye contact, knowing that there’s no world she wouldn’t agree with. 
You’re in a vulnerable state, laying down as she audaciously coursed its way towards your nether region and it was clear what her need is. You could only succumb onto the pleasure she brings in every flick, twist and inevitable kiss. Her mouth never fails to amaze you and with such overwhelming factors with her expertise, it didn’t become long before your hands found the ginger blur and surprisingly, she stopped you from a leverage that just made everything fall down into utter deprivation.
It is the best of both worlds: shooting up gratification up your spine and inability to handle the situation better through a defenseless state, her body poised to assert control over you.
“No—not now—” Yeji’s hands were fast enough to stop you, and you could only utter a symphony of moans, mouth slightly agape as she continued her prowess. “—relax and let me do the work for you.”
Those words latched with lust and it illuminates on those very eyes of hers. You know this will be a long day full of secrets and surprises and for sure, it will be.
---
It’s probably the addiction that settles within her, unable to make herself deprived from the taste of you and you just succumb to her control, feeling every nerve in you invigorated with her pleasurable maw.
She takes it all and it earns a moan coming out of you, Yeji gleefully taking it as a signal to even elevate the experience and god, she doesn’t disappoint. She glides her mouth all throughout your length, glistening it with her spit and slobbering over it like it’s her last meal. There’s something about the way her pace compliments her techniques—not too fast, not too slow and focusing on how you derive pleasure, not hers.
You’d never get tired of this.
“God—fuck, that’s great Yeji…” You moan and she takes it as a compliment, dancing her tongue all over that insatiable muscle, never withdrawing and ultimately pleasing. 
You run your hands throughout her ginger hair, opting for leverage for her immaculate display of talent as she pulls up another trick that makes you weak—fondling those balls dying for a release.
She releases, and drives her attention onto those, suckling each one as she strokes your cock, making it hardly stiff and it throbs with the cool air the room permeates. You uncontrollably elicit streams of groans and pleas, calling out her name as the pleasure is stimulating you up to your limit and thankfully, you’re able to cope and fight.
“I’d need to start off the day with one hell of a breakfast.” You heard it loud and clear, and she’s not going to play, making up for the sluggishness she's shown earlier, taking you hard and fast and that was your breaking point.
You can’t even acknowledge everything she probably said as your sensitivity increases, feeling her simple touch could break you at any given moment. Her rapidly bobbing picture falls a little blur to you, just totally focused on succumbing onto the pleasure and you fall down deeper into the abyss, her in full control.
She looks at you, seeing your eyes closed, mouth able to just repeatedly groan makes her smile evidently even with your length fully plunged inside her tight throat. Her hands work like magic, around your spit-sheathed length, putting you up in a spell where you’ll ascend in no time and you can’t fathom how she’s great at everything like this—it’s heavenly sinful and rightfully wrong, because you could just feel her mouth parting away from your head and you don’t want it to end like that.
You surely hit the jackpot meeting a girl like Yeji, perfect in every inch and ultimately talented in various ways, mostly regarding the intimate scope of things but you could just assume there’s more to know about this girl. 
She gives you another chaste kiss, making you shudder in response as she utters a proposition you can’t properly decide, and it’s not helpful with the way her hands glide with such a moderate pace and the constant fondling of those balls that’s needing to be drained.
“I have options for you—thinking really opportunistically here, y’know?” Yeji’s elbows rested onto the mattress, laying onto her stomach as she didn’t stop her strokes, eyes gazed onto yours as she demanded an answer. “Would you want me to finish you, right down my throat or… ride you until you spill everything inside me—your choice.”
You’d die for a woman like her riding you like it’s her last, feeling that weight on her slam against you as she does all the work but you can’t miss out of that heavenly mouth of hers—she possibly have sucked you for god knows how long but it’s your drug that you can’t get enough.
Even with a clouded mind, the verdict was clearly decided without any hesitation.
Partly missing out of her expected tarnation with her walls clenching around you for like the third time, you utters words that seals the deal. “Your mouth, Yeji—can’t get enough of it.”
It was crystal clear and she didn’t waste time parting her lips against your swollen head again, clearly hungry for your taste as she enthusiastically thrusted herself with a pace unparalleled than before, full on the throttle. Her hands rests onto your thighs, a leverage for a greater velocity she’s evidently consistent of, not turning back as she knows how you’re getting closer to the promised land.
“Such t-talent you have there, Yeji—fuck!” And it was predominantly factual, your compliments simply fueling her for more as she works both her hands to stimulate whatever she can—those aching balls, ticklish touches and her tongue dancing around was a great element of utter gratification.
You melt under her touch, completely indulged to the pleasure as her eyes widen, feeling your persistent throbs a sign of your nearing orgasm and she doubles her efforts, hollowing her cheeks to emit a vacuum that elevates the pressure, driving you onto the edge with pace. With her commendable performance breaking your reservoir loose, you call out her name and this time, it’s different and it’s primal call for your utter need.
“Yeji—Yeji, I can’t t-take it any longer…” She knows this and she utilizes your exasperated state in bliss, not even responding to your words as she plunges her mouth deeper, nose flushed onto your abdomen as you groan beautifully. The signal was a carnal call of delight, releasing every spurt down her walls as she gags repeatedly because of it, fighting the urge to withdraw but was unsuccessful in the end. She chokes a little, coughing a little of your cum before her fingers catch it, not wasting a single drop and tasting it with a face so sullied it makes it even harder.
Her idyllic visage showing her ultimate work being a complete mess wins it all, and her day has never been better and it’s just the start of it.
“Thanks for the ‘breakfast’ you gave me—its taste never fails…” Of course it never does, fingers licking signifying utter satisfaction on Yeji’s end.
You know she swallowed it all, like the good girl that she has been all throughout the time you’ve met her. She continued cleaning you off, tongue swirling in every centimeter aiming to tidy the mess she made as her constant slurps derives the sultriest moans in you. The sensitivity is on the roof as her touch is kryptonite and with your softening cock, she knows her business is now over and let the both of you appreciate each other’s beauty for another time.
“You’re crazy at that, Yeji.”
Yeji chuckles, smiling sincerely enough to make you in awe as her crescent-like eyes accentuates her striking and beautiful face. “I just can’t help it—I already missed the taste of your cock.”
You shake your head and laughed a little, her words making you feel butterflies as the feeling are mutual, but you needed to really start the day in an acceptable fashion and can’t stay all day fucking each other’s brains out. 
“You know what, Yeji? Let’s actually get some real breakfast.”
“Yeah, you’re right…” She stands up, and away from the bed as you follow, raising your shorts up as the both of you get yourselves ready for another day, sun greeting you out as it shines once you open the window.
You never thought this would be such a riled-up start, yet you won’t complain if it’s the Hwang Yeji that greets you, the first thing your eyes would see.
---
It was surely such an exhilarating way to kick off your day, commencing her with the sloppiest morning blowjob (maybe minus the morning, it’s actually the sloppiest she’s ever been, and even your whole life) and a delectable breakfast, and it’s worth remembering as she earned her place. Hence the invigorating and promising fragments of an experience meet the inevitable obstacles, your own endeavors and your mind going in circles around it and it’s time to kill the cat for that curiosity, as they say.
You just end up on her balcony, frantically uncomfortable about the fact that she’s still not texting you—you’d say you overthink too much, but it’s a natural state of mind when it comes to being cognizant.
“Come on, come on—pick up the damn phone…” You let out breaths of impatience, tapping your foot as the constant ringing of the phone in your ear puts you in an anxious situation.
You can’t possibly wait for more hours until it’s the afternoon or whenever the sun sets because of anticipation and desperation. You walk around in circles around Yeji’s balcony as the constant ringing still lingers onto your eardrums and eventually, it ends up not in your favor.
“Why won’t she just answer my goddamn call—”
“Hey!” Yeji gleefully calls you behind the sliding door, slightly ajar as she seems worried with your agitated demeanor. “You should probably just give up on who you’re calling to—it’s been like seven minutes?”
“Yeji, this one is important.” Your voice is stern and composed but it wouldn’t break her thoughts of interrupting you.
“More important than me?” You heard her loud and clear, merely a meter away from her and that tone just exudes the spell you can’t quite fight: submission and breaking your temptation.
As much as it hurts to say that both sides are as important as it is, your soft side tends to prevail, sugarcoating a response that wouldn’t hurt her. “Both are, Yeji but like, now is not the ti—”
She closes the door gently, then inches closer towards you with a reassuring stare and caresses onto your shoulder “Come on—don’t stress yourself that much…” She then motioned herself onto your back as your eyes followed her movements, gazed fixated onto hers as her mouth inches near to your earlobe, whispering words of abstaining yourself to further tension. “Because you know what can happen if you are overdoing yourself too much and it won’t be great for you.”
She has a valid point and you’re in this state of recollection with her words of wisdom. Her slight massages on your back with her hands eases up the built-up pressure you’ve had since minutes ago and with a quick conclusion, you know she is right. “Yeah, hah… you’re right—I’m just—I just want to know what’s up with her.”
“Her?” Yeji’s seductiveness quickly fades from a piqued expression, curious about who you are calling and who she is. “Who’s her? Is it your girlfriend? Oh fuck—I’m sor—”
“Hey, hey, it’s fine.” You stop Yeji with your reassuring tone, gesturing to calm her down and there’s nothing to worry about. Such a roller coaster of events unshackled within seconds and with the tables being turned, you can’t help but feel to let off a little chuckle, and it’s even ignited with Yeji’s furrowed eyebrows and worried face of hers. “It’s really hard to explain, y’know? But just don’t worry that much about her, okay?”
“Yeah, okay… Also—” She nods before that, then Yeji’s countenance shifted onto an evident curiosity, feeling that her nerves are connecting the dots too well. “Was she the girl I saw you with at the bar yesterday?”
You almost forgot that you would totally steal glances with her at that time, luckily all being unnoticed by Chaewon (if she even cared if you caught glances with her coquette nature yesterday). You’re impressed with her adaptability to assume things that’s almost right, and there’s nothing to lie about with the given skill of hers.
“Yeah, she’s her. It’s nothing much though—we’re literally just friends.” It's a double-edged lie that you’d live with anyday, mostly on these times without a favorable conclusion to enclose onto a selected status. Like you said, her role in your life is pretty complicated in ways you can’t even explain and you won’t make yourself a burden to dissect every detail to Yeji.
Even if you had the chance, you won’t really bother to.
You dismissed the current topic and just continued to admire her pulchritude. Your stare could melt her as she smiles with a genuine lace of joy, then kissing the nape of your neck as she opens up about an experience. “Yeah, okay—I’m sorry though ‘cause like, you’re too hot to the point that I can’t resist you.”
Looking over your shoulder, her siren eyes probably does wonders over you and with that stare, you just can’t help but do the same. “The feelings are mutual, Yeji.”
You then face her and cupped her cheeks, initiating a torrid kiss that was fueling your desires over her, and they won once again. She quickly reciprocates and deepened the kiss, feeling such entanglement that yearns for need and gives out such pleasure. Your hands involuntarily seeks its way onto her waist, and her hands onto the back of your head, feeling the tension growing before pulling out of her embrace, breaking the trance which earns a definite whine escaping her lips. 
“Why’d you pull out?”
“Sorry, Yeji—” As much as it hurts to stop, you would want to as there are more endeavors important than this, and you’ll hope she understands it. “—I’ll meet someone this afternoon and I gotta go home and get myself ready.”
Yeji lets out a sigh, her hot breath brushing on your nostrils as she meets you eyes one more time, glowing with sincerity and understanding about the possible situation. “I don’t need to bother you for more time then…” 
You smile, relieved she won’t bear much of a nuisance to make you expound your reasonings. “Sorry again, Yeji—I’ll call you whenever all of this is over.”
Yeji paints a sly smile, the latter sending her limbics into delight and anticipation, knowing that you’ll be connected with hers as soon as you can. “Yeah, sure—just don’t stress that much, hm?”
It’s perplexing with such a thoughtful development over the span of hours since you met her, maybe of the reasons rewarding enough to be cherished or the intimate inkling deepening within the second. You fix your jacket, nodding reassuringly as you waved goodbye and mouthing the words See you soon before you close the sliding door.
As you were leaving her room and out of her place, you can’t help but think of what you’ve done with her yesterday and earlier this morning. With an emotion unparalleled from ever before, you let out little laughs and words of still and evident bewilderment. 
“She’s insatiable, it’s crazy.”
---
Thankfully, there wasn’t anything distracting you while driving your way home, not even the fact of a mental battle on keeping both hands on the wheel, eyes on the road while a slobbering mess is between your legs (this was supposed to happen and this was just a delusional imaginative outcome, but to your defense, you weren’t ready for such a risk costing more than what you could fathom).
Preparing yourself for what’s bound to come, you take some time to reflect on what you’ve been into—a mess worth indulging in, barely able to clean it up since the second it was ruined. As you were spraying that strong-scented perfume up the collar of your polo, your attention was diverted onto the buzz of your phone which to no surprise, is her.
kim_chaewon at 1:57 - “Meet me at the hotel where I told you to go and say the room number I told you to go, under my name, to the concierge. 4 PM, sharp and don’t you dare be late.”
Glad you have enough time for preparation but deep inside, you’re a bit conflicted on why she would send such vague details and tell them late. Well, it’s maybe of the twists and games she loves to play against you, and you won’t be surprised if she does call you and say something stupid—
“Ah shit—” Chaewon is calling you, and you knew this was going to be part of a well-written plan of hers. You know how things can boil down into the toxic pit of selfishness and need, and you can’t quite escape her leash because of you being the puppet under her string and it’s incredibly unhealthy—you want her, no, you fucking like her and her attitude wouldn’t stop you from proving her why you’re worth something more than what she’s used to see.
“You better stop calling on times like that—you know I’m still on my beauty slumber, tch.” Chaewon’s irk laced within her voice through the phone is evident and it was nothing less than expected. You gulp nervously as she lets her temper out within the phone and knowing it’s becoming too annoying, you wouldn’t sip your mouth and let her be as commanding as she is.
“Chaewon, I just wanted to ask you about it!” You raise your voice, fed up as Chaewon falls silent. You count to three, then swallow, feeling the instant regret with what you’ve done. “God, I’m sorry but you can’t keep me hanging on a thread like that.”
“What are you even trying to prove? I’ve already texted you about it, didn’t I?” It is true, but you’re trying to point out things that will probably develop her uphill and knowing her skull is as hard as titanium, your words aren’t able to penetrate through her brain to register and listen. 
You can’t fathom why you liked her in the first place, feelings probably mutual as it was deemed to be such a wicked relationship that’s even confusing. She wasn’t yours, yet but it’s only a matter of time before a verdict comes up, marking Chaewon as your territory and yours only. The roads you’re tackling stresses you out, considering how you grew something with Yeji and how divergent these are, making you suffer yet your mind yearns for both of them, can’t quite compute and let go of the other.
You are the problem, but they’re a drug you can’t quite stop to take.
You fall silent and Chaewon asserts her dominative approach with your lack of response. “See? You should trust me sometimes; I wouldn’t fail you as much as you don’t fail me. See ya’ later, I’ll even make myself appear prettier than what you think…” 
The latter is true—even if she doesn’t say so, her beauty is off the charts, alluring at its best—and somewhat, the former should be reconsidered for a while. Even with an unreadable mind that Chaewon possesses, it’s natural to be skeptical with her ways of controlling you (somewhat) but sometimes, you have to think optimistically and trust her. You’re just gaslighting yourself into thinking that she’s maybe right in every way, even if it means to dive you into a risk.
You faintly say your goodbyes as she hangs up immediately, letting out a breath as you’re punishing yourself for such a minimal act of regret. “Well, I shouldn’t have done that but this should be fine…”
As you should, it’s not a big deal on her end possibly and she’s not that kind of an immature, selfish woman that would take your little outbursts like something as a threat.
---
The staggering heights of the buildings around made such a metropolitan experience complete, and it’s even elevated with the luxurious ambiance the hotel exudes as you went inside it, the lobby doing wonders to enthrall its guests. 
You wouldn’t really waste time being in awe with the glamorous chandelier or the exquisite art the tiles have because you have a goal in mind: meet her at the designated time, not a second off or sooner. 
You roll off your sleeve, fixing yourself by a little as you advance towards the front desk, approaching the concierge as he meets you with a smile in which you subtly appreciate.
“Hello, excuse me—yeah. Room 018, for Ms. Kim Chae-won?”
His eyes widened, even enthusiastic as he was more eager to help you as soon as he heard the number of the room. “Oh yes sir, a presidential suite? I’ll just check the room again for further security and… may I get your name?”
You then say your name as you wait patiently, the concierge tapping onto the screen multiple times after he informs you that you’re now able to access the room. 
“And you’re set, sir! Here’s the card and that will be on the 40th floor.”You then thank him as he gestures a bow, uttering the words Enjoy, sir as you take the elevator hurriedly, tapping the buttons and getting in it as soon as they open.
You’re not going to sugarcoat it—you’re nervous. Feeling it onto an extent underlying anticipation more than the deterioration of confidence. It was a natural instinct when discovering new heights, and you reassure yourself with that given fact within the second you’re a floor higher. It was quick, less than a minute since there wasn’t a stop and you could only sigh as the elevator dings and opens.
You traverse down the corridor as the signs help in which way the rooms are. Left then right, walk a couple of steps and there meets the lair of the vixen—the room where anything could possibly happen, every achievable outcome that could possibly come into life.
You knock at the door, signaling your presence as you unlock the door with the card the concierge gave you, and there she is, at the other end, in all black of an outfit, facing opposite from you as the dark bob accentuates elegance and sophistication, before spinning her chair and welcoming you. 
Chaewon looks at the time on her phone, raising an eyebrow as she leisurely nodded. “Not too bad for you, hm? Take a seat, please.”
You then walked your way inside, aiming to sit on the couch as soon as she glared with a subtle gesture of her head, uttering something, “No, sit here—beside me.” Her index finger points onto the tall stool at the center table besides hers and you advance towards it, then facing her, your eyes scanning every inch of her impeccable features.
This kind of wardrobe is new to your eyes, and it’s a sight to see a refreshing set of fashion that was clearly unfamiliar at most times—you’d say she’ll almost let a skin on her exposed whenever she dresses up and will almost make herself look hotter than hell. You’re always vocal when complimenting her and you wouldn’t impede such flowery words from spilling out of your mouth. “God, Chaewon, this fit looks great on you—it truly is.”
She smiles with your words, you eyes telling the truth as she stares at them and of course, this is the best way to start the day with her. “Of course I do—” She proceeds to make a move, standing up, drawing herself closer to you as her eyes dart towards your chest and onto your eyes, letting you know how much she appreciates you being here even though it’s barely vocalized. “You look great too, honestly.” 
Chaewon’s close—dangerously close, inches away as you drown onto those alluring eyes of hers, getting lost into the dark abyss it holds and your next move wasn’t surprising to say the least: your hands making its way towards the hem of her blazer, and onto her slender, tight waist as her hands stop you, lips parted as she shook her head lightly, enough to bring you the message. “Well, that’s reserved for later—”
“How so? We’re already here—”
She interrupts you with an audible shh, smirking enticingly as her disposition is clearly ambiguous, and you can’t quite tell where she’ll indulge you. “You’re still up to my test—we’re still not done and you’ll have your reward when you’ve proven yourself.”
“Prove myself? Aren’t those enough of a statement?” You’re in little disbelief, shaking your head as you feel your efforts yesterday weren't enough and she knows it. 
Speaking of that, you should probably ask her about what you’ve done yesterday, assuming she might have eyes on you secretly that you weren’t aware of. You’re probably deluded to think about how she could do that to you but yet again, Chaewon’s that kind of girl.
Possibly set aside these thoughts and snap yourself into reality with her words. “I’ll just say it again—we’re still not done, am I right?”
You sigh, embracing defeat as her point is valid and true, and you won’t break the rules nor a promise between both parties. “You’re right, Chaewon, okay?”
“Of course I am.” Hubristically speaking, she knows she is right, even if you admit her confidence was doing the talking. She then distances herself from you, seating on her stool, picking some grapes for her plate as she munches on them, then inviting you to join her. “Help yourself here; grapes, juices, water or some biscuits—anything that can treat your hunger.”
You’re in little disbelief and hypocrisy, unsure on what she’s implying “What? I’m not that hungr—”
“Hey—” Chaewon shows a discontented demeanor, knowing lying through your teeth wouldn’t help you nor defend anything. “—if your stomach ain’t yearning, screaming for it to be fed then I wouldn’t say that otherwise.”
She draws the plate of grapes towards you with her hands, raising an eyebrow, signaling you to get some and help yourself. You wouldn't say another no because she knows you’ll be lying again, so you picked a couple and tossed one in your mouth, feeling the sour and sugary essence of the fruit revitalizing you, little by little.
“You’ll need energy for later—” Chaewon says, as she takes a sip from her glass full of some blueberry juice, looking at you with a seductive intent. “—and this—this will be a long day, for both of us.”
You’re clearly in the mood to set up a fire between the both of you, imagining the possible futures within both your accords—mostly Chaewon’s, but you won’t be bothered by that. “For now, you gotta help me shop for a—”
“Wait, Chaewon—” With all the introductory endeavors set for the both of you, you interrupt her with simple words that have been ringing in your brain since yesterday. “—may I ask you a question?”
Chaewon scoffs a breath, eyes interested with what you’re going to ask her. “Go on.”
“According to the text yesterday, how did you know?” It was straightforward, a little vague but she got what you’re asking her. It’s flummoxing knowing how she can act like a prophet but in reality, it wasn’t, and you’d like to know the reason behind such an act.
“Ahh—that?” She sips again, exhaling a fresh, fruity breath as her tone is more vibrant but still laced with her usual elegance. “Well, it’s a simple trick up my sleeve and I know you wouldn’t find suspicion through it.”
You scrunch your eyebrows by a little, a little confused on what she’s implying but you thought of a concept. “Did you just wait for me outside? What does this me—”
“Well, here’s the thing: I pretend to leave the bar and you didn't even notice if my figure was behind the door as soon as your eyes darted for someone. I watched from a distance, disguising myself against the flickering lights the stage provides and the dimness of the surroundings—” Chaewon leans into you, closer as your lips are inches against your ear. “—and I watched the both of you.” And then after that voice of her tickling you slightly, sending shivers down your spine, she leans onto her stool, but not enough for her to fall—just balanced. 
“That’s all? Could never know you can be such a voyeur—”
“Not really and yes, I like watching people go all out while I just sit there and let them unveil their true nature. Well—” Chaewon clears her throat, fixing her blazer and she isn’t done, her doe eyes hypnotizing you, making you listen under her dulcet voice. “—I saw the way you talked to her, those subtle glances and fun between your words was enough to make a conclusion—you passed the test. As soon as the both of you got up to your seats, went up to the balcony with god knowing what you'll do to her—oh…” She gets up again from her seat, facing you closer with her head slightly raised and there her breath tingling against your lips, brushing against your nose. “I know exactly what you would be up to. I wouldn’t waste my precious time watching you even from afar and let yourself be redeemed with what you can do.”
Your eyes are just fixated towards her, earning a little gulp from your throat due to her intimidating demeanor. “You’ve impressed me ever so slightly… And let me ask a question in return.”
Still inches away from her, you would just embrace what she’ll ask as you’re not in any authority to decline what her lips may escape. “What is it?”
“Did you fuck her?”
A question enough to stun you, reek fear within your skin as you can’t decipher her—it’s your kryptonite: her nuanced emotions unable to make your wonders be applied in certain situations. Was this still part of a test? Did she read your brain easily to come up with an assumption too right? It is an aligned possibility, these questions will be answered by her, and it’s for you to embrace it.
“Fuck… her? Why would you think I f—”
“I asked you a question—” Chaewon sips another desirable amount of that liquid, before smashing the glass a little too hard on the marbled table that made you feel a little nervous. “—didn’t I?”
Yes. Chaewon asked a question and all you need to do is answer it, plain and simple. You can’t dodge the mere thought of detouring the topic or even at least acting oblivious—the little shivers on your bottom lip says otherwise, and the defensiveness of your tone doesn't help with your persuasion. “But h-how are you even sur—”
“Okay, you don’t need to tell me anything anymore and don’t worry—” Chaewon’s hands caresses your waist, feeling a little tingle up onto your groin as her touch enables you into a reassuring plane, fending off the stress out of your body as the latter words falls right onto your ears. “—I won’t even be mad if you did it because I know you did and god, she’s pretty and sexy. Sometimes, you gotta be studied, y’know?”
Chaewon is steps ahead of you, as lying was too obvious to be kept shackled. You’re still unsure, feeling a little tick in your brain saying that she’s maybe just playing games with you and her emotions aren’t as sincere as you thought it would be as soon as she said those words.
“You’re not mad? Or anything?”
Chaewon sighs, a stoic expression paints her face as you find her deceiving and confusing. “So you admit that you fucked her, hm?”
“I didn’t say that I—” Chaewon’s fed up with your lies and she had to do something if she wanted to make a word for herself. Shutting you up with her hand, your eyes widen as you try to writhe, but you know that’s putting a nail to your coffin, and just being immobilized is the way to brush this off. Her disappointed and infuriated stare towards you earns another struggling gulp from you, which she took it down as a sign of asserting her dominance. 
“Another lie, I’ll make you see who the fuck I am.” It was churlish and candid, and you just nod in response, fearful that another volcano may spew out its anger. She smirks in total control, as she releases her hand onto your mouth and impressively, she returns onto her intimidatingly stoic and sophisticated demeanor, then continuing what you interrupted earlier. “Shall we explore and shop, hm? I’ll even treat you if you want…”
Of course, all you can do is nod and utter, “How could I resist that?” in which she likes and it’s genuine with her smile.
She’s right in every way—this day would be long for the both of you and you’re ready for what's about to come.
---
Expensive bags, new shoes, fashionable clothes, exquisite dinners and kilometer-long walks around the malls could never go wrong and all so right. It was a time well-spent between the both of you as it’s been a while since you’ve had some wholesome moments with her, even just in the slightest bits of it. 
This was just the tip of the iceberg because she has more in store for you, and a great way to end the night is in another place where it concludes down into madness, and it’s just the best of both worlds. 
“Really? In another club, Chaewon? We’ve been onto something like this yesterday…” You’re a bit disappointed it will all end up on this note, probably walking out with a drunk-dazed state and the absolute predicament: you having to carry Chaewon out because of such a drunken state you can’t tell.
Let’s just hope this thing of hers never meets that fate.
“Hey! It’s pretty great here honestly—I heard their snacks are top-tier, so I wanted to try it and let me tell you, yesterday was a bar, not that.” Chaewon corrects you and persuades you with all her might and you, a puppet, can merely do anything to reject her advances and honestly, she’s maybe up to something you can’t quite tell. 
“Same thing, Chaewon—”
“Hey it’s not! Also—” Chaewon tiptoes a little, brushing her lips oh-so close onto your earlobes as her breath whispers, “—I wanted to try something, in correlation to my final verdict.”
Well, if this is what it takes to prove yourself, then maybe you just need to embrace it.just need to ride with her highs.
“Let’s get in—I already reserved a seat for us both.” You then follow Chaewon, showing an actual identification card to the bouncer and traversing towards the dim hallway where the fun begins, and it’s already lingering within your eardrums with the ebullient sounds of such music. 
You anticipate with what she has in store, in full trust under her own accord as here it goes, an adventure of a lifetime.
---
You wouldn’t say an adventure, moreso, a memory but this one is audacious, risky and adventurous. Chaewon’s advancements towards elevating an experience is merely a branch in boredom, but rather, a connection towards amusement—her brain somewhat makes up such exhilarating events to be experienced, most likely in ways unorthodox to others.
The common noise didn’t get your sense preoccupied, taking onto the mouthwatering cheese-flavored nachos, crushing two pieces of it and licking your fingers due to its flavorful taste, then averting your eyes towards Chaewon as she calls your name. “What is it this time?”
“Enjoying the food, hm?”
“You know, Chaewon?” You fix your seat as the boisterous music distracts you slightly, a little bothered but that doesn’t faze the fact that she’s heard things right. “You’re right as I think about it—the food here is delicious. You seem to be enjoying your drink a lot, huh?”
Chaewon chuckles a little as she covers her mouth, flipping her hair as her features astound you, elegant even with her subtle actions. “Of course, a tangy and sweet cocktail could always go right—no doubts.” She then takes a hurried sip, the concoction hitting just right as she feels refreshed and satisfied. As the both of you are comfortable eating, a thought in your brain ignites, a shard from the earlier remarks that was left unattended until this very second.
“You said you wanted to try something, right, Chaewon?”
Her pupils dilate, lips slightly parted as she places down the glass down the table, and piques her total attention. “Oh well, about that…” She places down her purse on the table, crossing her legs as she shifts onto her smug behavior, confidence seeping out in every breath she exhales. “We gotta take this somewhere else—somewhere no one can see us.”
Those words alone were a fragment of utter lust and anticipation and you can’t miss that out. Her aphrodisiac tone was enough to invite, moreso her gestures that concluded the start of an act. 
You smile, a slight one laced with expectations defying heights. “Lead the way then and I’ll show you something too.”
You’ll let her but you’d like to finish anything first so you’ll have enough energy left in the tank, if it goes the other way you’ll expect.
---
It’s probably the climax of the music that was faint on both your ears, the room sequestering the background noise enough to avert your attention towards her. You take a moment to scrutinize her features, every inch a candy to your own liking.
Your hands finally ran onto her waist, caressing it a little as you eye on her with such admiration. “This outfit is just too good for you, Chaewon.”
Chaewon chuckles, and the both of you meet eyes as she replies with your piece of a broken eulogy. “You’ve said it for like ten times—you really liked it, huh?”
You shook your head, letting her know there’s more for her to be aware of. “No, Chaewon—I fucking loved it—everything—I won’t shut up about this.”
“But you can make me.” Her breath shudders once you hold your other hand onto the hem of her pants, feeling the curve of her butt inviting you to fondle it deeper but you resist, just how she wanted for now. 
“I’ve always wanted to say this for a long time now and for your final test…” Your eyes scintillate in lust and excitement, feeling her words will line up to the thoughts you’re thinking. “Break me.”
Break her. 
Seven letters, two words, numerous implications that can underlie an ambiguous approach that could always defy expectations. Here’s the thoughts you managed to come up with: either she wants you to break her in half (metaphorically) with your cock or break her usual classy, sophisticated demeanor.
Both can be applied, and it’s up to your own accord since you know you’re in control right now, Chaewon slowly submitting to you.
And it wasn’t even a second before she couldn't resist herself—you’d just feel her swollen lips meeting yours, entangling into such fervor no one can match. The taste of her lips is succulent and you're addicted to it—the apple-flavored does wonders, but it’s mostly the fact about the delightful chemicals messing up with your brain, optimistic and yearning for more.
Her arms rest on your shoulders, as yours caresses her waist, feeling every inch of her porcelain skin and how smooth it is everytime you caress it. It was a little platonic at first, but when you reciprocated deeply, you know there’s more than that and she knows it.
It hurts, but she needs to pull out to catch her breath and to clear her headspace because this wasn’t part of her plan—it was evident she got carried away, her actions tell those otherwise.
“Why the fuck do you always kiss me so good?”
You laugh, an evident hubris on your face that she found slightly annoying but there’s nothing she can do. “Maybe I just can’t help it that I’m kissing the Kim Chaewon. ”
A name worth remembering, and you absolutely will as she’s a remarkable and paramount part of your life now. 
“Shut up—can’t fucking wait to feel you inside me—” She’s impatient, vocally frustrated as you’re not fulfilling her desires. You always know how she always gets what she wants, having authority to make everyone her puppet but this time, the tables will be turned in your favor and you’d be smiling standing on your own ivory tower. “—what are you waiting for?”
“Patience, Chaewon—patience…”
“The hell do you mean patience—ow!” A harsh spank brings sting onto her, enough for her to feel and for anyone to hear but it’s muffled thanks to the clothing of her pants that you’re dying to undress. “Look at you—spanking me hard now, huh?”
“Yes.” You’re imperative and stern, gaining authority over her slowly as she’s starting to snap herself to reality. “And I wouldn’t hesitate to do so because I know you like this.”
You know she does, even loving it as it starts with her biting her lower lip with such a slap was enough for a conclusion.
“God, I always liked this, y’know?”
“Getting handled in a restroom?” 
“Not exactly that—” She inches closer towards you again, looking from left to right as her actions draws attention for you to be all ears. “—it’s mostly the fun of a risk—risking to be caught while I get pounded into oblivion.”
You sigh, a sinister smile curling your lips as this fetish of hers is somewhat amusing, to say the least. “You wouldn’t mind getting caught? Let the world know how much of a slut you can be?”
Here’s the thing: you’re trying to prove a point here, risking a reputation for the people who don't know you is somewhat important in a way, knowing how privacy can still be important so you’re skeptical of the repercussions of her own lustful nature.
“Don’t worry—” She tilts her head slightly, flashing a genuine countenance which reassures you slightly even with your venomous words that unleashed your other corrupted side. “—all of these fall down into a clandestine ending—just the both of us, nobody else, just us.”
Well, you’re pliant under her spell and you’d like to make her taste with your own medicine yet with all of these, you’re easily persuaded by her. There’s no other way to start such a spectacular act with her words of a green light. “At least getting your cock wet would do such a wonderful thing, won’t it?”
You hitch a breath, agreeing on what she’s about to show as you trust her expertise. “Of course, now do your wonders, Chaewon.”
She pauses, raising an eyebrow as she is probably hesitant with your profounded commanding nature. Of course she’s not used to this, but you’ll love to make a blissful introduction that lets you know that you’re deserving. 
“At least undress yourself for m—ow, ahh, what was that?” It wasn’t a spank this time, rather an aggressive grab onto her wrists, which caught her off-guard. She didn’t retaliate nor glare at you and it was surprising, since her expressions were far from what you expected: showing a faux class, eyes glistening in lust and fading of her so-called sophisticated demeanor. 
“You do it, Chaewon, but not here…” You point to the vacant bathroom stall for further privacy, and as much as she doesn’t care about it, you wouldn’t agree to her terms and had no choice but to follow your own accord.
She looks onto her shoulder, smirking as she knows where this can end. “Want it tight and confined, huh?”
“Hah—of course—” It's probably your guilty pleasure, a thing that should be addressed more often with her as it has its own advantage in favor of you, and you’ll enlighten her about it. “—so it won’t be much of an effort to handle you.”
Chaewon’s apparent shock at your shift of attitude impresses her, and she can’t wait to see what you can show her. “Oho—then let's get started.”
---
It’s rightfully confined, still enough for the both of you to move and her dexterous hands never fails you, undressing the clothing hastily and onto the cold floor. As her hands traverse its way onto your boxers, she asks for a favor in which you find bold considering the given circumstances. “Please hold my purse—”
“No.”
“No?”
“No—you find a way.” She looks up, annoyed with your own authority and the tone that’s laced with it—like you said, you'll get her used to her own doing, her own medicine. She reaches down to the floor to place her purse, only for her wrist to get caught up at the last second, informing her own what she should follow. “You’ll warm up my cock while holding that, is it clear?”
She rolls her eyes, finally grasping the situation as you get up off her nerves yet you didn’t care, not when she wanted that beast inside you for god knows how long. “Fine, whatever you want—yes…”
With only a single defense ready to be worn out, you fix your posture and prepare yourself for the inevitable. The tent only grew larger as she caresses it with care, dainty fingers tracing the outline as you voice out your frustration immediately. “Fucking undress me, Chaewon.”
It’s probably the first she’s been treated like this and this wouldn’t be the last—you’ll let her know how you work your expertise, wonders in the highest of ceilings. 
She complies, nodding as her hands yanks your boxers off and god, the sight—it’s possibly imprinted in her brain even though the mental image of your length is deeply buried within the depths of her mind. 
You moan, the swollen head meeting the cool air permeating in every corner as her hands made your breath shudder in response. “Now suck it.”
You have the vaguest of clues to open up a reliable reasoning—how is she this obedient under your accord when her touch falls you weak on your knees? It’s contradictory and it’s wonderful, a sight worth remembering as your spell falls effective at her end, parting her lips onto your leaking head that would matter at any given moment.
It’s agonizing, torturous and whatever-the-fuck of an abundance of euphemisms you can come up with and it’s gratifying, up your deepest nerves. Her tongue darts and swirls around the mushroom tip, earning moans that you won’t bother shackling and with a given encouragement, she dives deeper as her pace is more evident. She’s talented and gifted, like what she always said between a sexual tension and she doesn’t lie—her lips enough can make a statement, what more about the set of lips—
That’s stored for later but for now, you need to savor the moment until it lasts.
A talented mouth paired with a dancing tongue is almost lethal, making you unable to think straight as she’s way ahead of your league—possibly in a good way, and you’d like to adapt with her skillful oral intermission. 
Yeji and Chaewon could rival each other in terms of technique and pacing, and clearly, Chaewon’s sets of skills was far from the rest and it doesn’t help that she’s taking you deeper, spit covering all over your length as she pulls out, feeling the hint of repugnance that she most likely despises.
“God—fuck, it’s so messy—” Her hurried slurps marks her apparent modesty even in the engagement of such a sinful act and you didn’t care about it—as selfish as you sound, the pleasure your experience should come out in priority. “—you’re ruining my lipstick mar—gwah!”
It wasn’t a struggle fulfilling your desires, not when she’s talking as your cockhead rests between the muscle of her tongue—she gags a little with your profound harshness as she’s evidently caught off-guard with it. She glares and you don't care (again), not when she ups the ante, pace driven with unbridled lust and little-to-no care about the mess she makes.
“What a fucking mouth you have, Chae—” Grunts, moans and subsequent groans leaves your lips as the pace was just right, swirling her tongue as she thrusts herself deeper. The inevitable drool seeping out of her mouth and it dripping onto her pants is the cherry on top—her mouth is just heavenly and perfectly soiled, just how you liked it.
This wasn’t part of the show, on how messy she is—no, this was a pleasurable accident, clearly written thanks to your own accord. She locked her eyes on you, hollowing her cheeks, bobbing frantically and god, the sight is immaculately sinful as every second that passes feels surreal. 
Possibly, you’re thinking selfishly right now and unable to register some sort of concern and why would you be? This is what she wanted anyways, and you won’t stop her until she’s an indistinguishable, sullied mess of a woman between your legs.
She grips your thigh harshly with her right hand, a leverage as she impale her throat with more of you throbbing length. She’s hungry and slobbering over it and the sight was enough for you to meet an unparalleled demise which you would love to happen in the latter stages. Her technique sets up the standard of a spectacular blowjob and you would reckon she’s the best of them all—she could totally rival Yeji, and your judgment couldn’t be reliable since it’s too biased with her mouth hugging your cock tightly.
She takes you in, whole, nose buried onto your abdomen as gags are apparent and to her own experience, she managed to tame it as she displayed her talent once more. Tears flow down her cheek with her own actions, ruining the makeup she probably spent an hour on but it didn’t matter because it’s gradually turning you on.
“God—f-fuck, that’s just great there, Chaewon.” Her patterns of pleasuring you are somewhat predictable and audacious, clearly deprived of your taste as she alternates from taking you all in and her oral expertise.
All great things must come to an inevitable end, despite how successful it became and you can feel it within you.
Chaewon releases her mouth out of your succulent cock, panting as her face is flushed red, the vicinity of her mouth a seeping mess that compliments her pretty visage. “Fuck—I can’t get enough of your cock, y’know that?” Of course it’s rhetorical as she repeatedly slurps on your shaft, standing up to the words she spilled. 
As much as it hurts to put an end to this show of hers, it would be a great decision as you’re dying to live up to the main climax of events that would be surely worth both of your time.
Well, you guess she likes to dance while she party, but this would be the last dance for the day, for now.
“Chaewon…” You call out her name, falling deaf on her ears as the music of her slurps and slobbering outpowers it. You’d like to make her hear the message loud and coherently, clearing your throat and raising your voice. “Chaewon!”
Her pace gradually slows down, hindered with your voice as she pulls out and meets eyes with you again, back to her unbothered demeanor even though it’s all sullied with her spit and her makeup due to the tears she made. “Dying to fuck me, hm?”
“Get up.” Not even acknowledging her question, you’re straightforward with it, your words enough to build up an answer because she made you feel this way. “Hands against the wall, bend over and don't do anything stupid.”
She’s ready to comply even though there’s doubt permeating all over her—she hates being commanded yet this is her guilty pleasure and you’re glad being on the front row of such a rare find. Rhapsodies of anticipation glisten on her eyes as soon as you meet them into a distant contact, and you just know how much she’s liking this. You detest the confined spaces, the limited movement impossible to experiment on things but this an exhilarating challenge and you can’t wait to start it.
“That should be my line—ow!” Her voluptuous butt gets another spank in which she deeply appreciates despite her glare towards you as she looks back, onto her shoulder. You drool with a magnificent sight of her backside accentuated thanks to the tight, black pants she wore, caressing each side of each which earned a moan coming out of Chaewon’s mouth.
“Strip it out, p-please.” She’s pleading now, desperate for your touch and clearly breaking that class that’s in her. There’s no class in such a sinful circumstance, and Chaewon knows it well, not giving any fuck is she got to be the messiest she’s ever been.
You tease her, darting your fingers slowly to the edge of her ass, tugging the clothing that made her elicit a small whimper, and then teasing your index finger near her nether region. The heat it emanates makes your cock throb, imagining how spoiled she’s been under her garments.
She’s utterly frustrated, gritting her teeth and losing her patience by the second. “What the fuck are you doing—ow!”
“I’m in control here, Chaewon—” You lean on her after another spank, letting her know that all she needs to do is obey as she’s powerless against your own control. “—and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”
Her breath quivers, a sigh right after as she’s enlightened enough to shut herself from complaints for the time being. “Okay, j-just fucking strip me please—god, please—ow!”
Another one, striking her twice as hard within your own volition—a choice to punish her repeated protests. She whimpers with your roughness, feeding pleasure through the pain and as much as you don’t want to agree with her, you need to have a sight of those delectable ass and thighs of hers that’s been dying to be touched by you (possibly).
Finding the zipper of her pants, she yelps with your cold touch meeting her skin and as much as she wants to help you, she rests her hands completely onto the wall because there’s nothing that she can do but to embrace the unstoppable force. 
You could only think of the numerous complains she has on her mind right now, and you’re going to fuck it out of her—you live up to a promise, marking your words.
Finally, you peel the clothing off, smoothly undressing it and down to her ankles as you mentally drool over the meal that’s served in front of you. 
Your fingers course its way onto her radiating heat, earning an inviting moan as she’s too easy to read now. “Fucking wet, huh? I knew you’d always be like this around me.”
Chaewon struggles a little due to the pleasure streaming down within her but manages to articulate words with even the hint of elegance and vulgarity. “Who wouldn’t be this fucking wet if it weren’t for that big dick of yours, hm?”
You feed your ego—she’s right, factual as it's evident whenever she sees your promised treasure being savored by her.
You peel off that black-laced thong of hers as the sight of something unexpected surprises you: you could see a black-colored buttplug buried into her ass, the crystalized tip just hanging out nicely and this sight just made everything worse for the better.
You push down onto it, slightly earning a guttural moan from her as the amalgamation of pain and pleasure mix harmoniously, derived and taken wholeheartedly. “Feeling kinky, huh, Chaewon?”
“You k-know me—ahh, fuck, that’s great!” You continue teasing her with the plug, and the other doing an exquisite job between her folds which just puts her in a position of no-return. Clearly there’s no return in her current state: desperate, horny and weak, something that no one could ever take a sight of except you—maybe, only you can make her shift into this kind of façade and it’s outstanding.
“Just put it in, please—ow! Hmph…” Her body fully recoils with your strike, feeling more of that pain because of her exposed white, pristine skin that you’ll love to spoil. 
You would warn her but you know that she knows that she’s making these pleas and a disturbance to your authority intentionally to draw more spanks that just makes her folds wetter, and you can feel it with its constant squelches. 
You can’t tease her long enough because of your growing deprivation and frustration on your side, so with a single hindrance towards a climactic turn, you open your lips to mutter a consent. “You ready, Chaewon?”
“Of course I’m fucking ready for you—ahh—ah, god, oh!” The green light was said sooner, and you waste no time with the given opportunity. Albeit, this wasn’t more of an opportunity, but rather a necessity as this was planned beforehand and there’s no surprise with that.
No surprises but you just had it earlier—what a woman you are Kim Chaewon.
You plunge it deeper, almost up to the hilt as you draw back and slam again, the sounds resonate around the stall which nobody would probably care about. You grip her hips, stabilizing control as you continue your pace. “Chae—this pussy is something else.”
She moans in response, unable to think coherently yet she manages to still come up on an articulate response. “It shouldn’t be surprising a-anymore—you always love the way my walls hug around that big cock of yours.”
It’s mesmerizing to say the least—her words feel like a switch in you, flicking and activating something when the time comes and you love every second of it. You continue your pace, ramping up as time ticks and so is your harshness. You tend to alternate between spanks and thrusts, making her clench tightly around you and wince in pain, biting her lower lip to fight the sudden surge of emotions.
Her repeated cries and encouragement go well together to cook up a fuel that’s raging you to display your fullest potential—each thrust makes her yelp and moan uncontrollably, concerned with the fact that someone may come in and suspect such an activity inside the restroom. 
That didn’t stop you though, hammering her tight cunt like it’s your last and slapping those cheeks to ignite her masochistic side—you love the sight of a reddish mark imprinted on her skin, signifying your rapid harshness that will mark until the end of the day.
“Fuck me just like that—just—fucking—that, oh, oh!”
“Have I proven myself enough, Chaewon?” You need that answer out of her, let her know how worthy you are and how she can find nobody like you and possibly, you probably need to rail her harder than usual with a flabbergasting response. 
“You haven’t make me cum yet—it’s n-not even close yet—”
“Then why are you leaking like a faucet right now? Care to explain?” She can’t grasp the fact that she’s head over heels on you right now, and her denial is soon going to punish her for the time being, but for now, barrage of spanks will do, resulting in a rosy-pink hue imprinted on her porcelain skin that favors up to her own liking.
She continued to moan with your repetitive thrusts, aiming to fuck that egotistic and hypocrisy out of her and let her mind think of you and you only—maybe it’s working, ever so slightly with the constant submission she’s indulging in. You grasp her hips hard enough to probably bruise her, gripping on it in every thrust you do as she orchestrates such a symphony of moans that fuels you to go further.
You’re remarkable with your performance, she knows it and with her defenses crumbling down one by one, she would voice how much she loves this.
“Your—cock, fuck! So good!”
It wasn’t surprising, to say the least. She’s borderline screaming at this point as you hammer your length in her, up to hilt. The blazer probably doesn’t help with your concurrent thrusts, an annoying bit to your end and knowing how much better the sight is with most of her skin exposed, you pull her and command her to undress it and off on the floor, if she doesn't care.
“But w-why? This blazer is expe—”
“Do I look like I give a fuck?” You slap those red cheeks of hers, earning a whimper and a slight writhe on her end, whining about your wants and you’re utterly selfish to see more. She finds your hostile behavior attractive because deep inside, Chaewon waited for this for so long that she never would click her interests. “Fucking remove it—I want to see more of you.”
Chaewon sighs between her moans, placing her purse down to the tank of the toilet as she struggles a little bit due to your recklessness. “F-Fuck—whatever you say…”
She’s swift with her movements, effortlessly removing the nuisance of clothing and off to the floor. You marvel with those sharp shoulders of hers as you latch onto the visible skin, peppering it with kisses as you hiss onto her ear, “This cunt of yours, Chaewon—is perfectly tight.”
She’ll never get tired of your addiction to her tightness, vocally or physically because it’s all that you’ve ever wanted. You continue with your pace, slick covering your whole length and some dripping onto the floor until something unforeseen meets the both of you, and it’s surely a humiliating experience being exposed as one. 
The door creaks as the both of you hear multiple people laughing and singing along, and your reflexes work like a cat, quickly shutting up Chaewon’s mouth with your hands as you stop with your movements, burying your cock up to the hilt. 
Chaewon’s eyes are wide, flushed as your sudden movements make her retaliate a little and let out muffled moans. Her frame reels within your control and you didn’t like this, not when you’re in the edge of risky predicament—they are just a step closer to unveil how much of a slut Chaewon is and how you’re completely wrecking her, and you’d love to make it just exclusive between the both of you, behind closed doors.
Luckily, the lock says ‘occupied’ as the penultimate defense against a force worth intimidating. You grit your teeth, leaning in to her ear as you jeer, “You fucking slut—this is what I’m fucking afraid of—you better shut your mouth and not do anything stupid.”
Chaewon would want to fight you, complain or hurt you just to get what she wants but probably, the switch inside her flickers, only nodding as she struggles to breathe with your hand still covering her mouth. You move your hips leisurely as Chaewon lets out another set of muffled moans, feeling your length inside is enough to meet her own breaking point and you’d love to restrain her sinful sounds between the both of you. 
The ebullient sounds of the people inside the restroom sends your senses elevated, fully aware of how you can derive pleasure as silent as possible and you’re grateful that every noise reverberating around the vicinity of where you are at outpowers the sounds of sex happening inside this confined bathroom stall.
You’d never know such risk would make everything exhilarating.
“I may or may not like this place more now, Chaewon.” You whisper behind her ear with such unfathomable intent, ferocious about the situation as she desperately moves her hips in tandem with your slow thrusts, your hand handling her in place and making your hands as a makeshift cuff around her wrists.
You can feel her nostrils desperately blowing heat and air, aiming to get as much oxygen to release her emotions all throughout your manhandling. You wait for a bit as you stop, keeping your length buried inside her, observing the situation down to its last, minute details. They walked, laughed and seconds right after, the door creaked open and shut, releasing your grip on her mouth, Chaewon catching her breath as she gasped for air.
“Why—hah—why t-the fuck would you do that?” Chaewon angrily asks you, and you hold her in place with another slap on those reddened buttcheeks that just made her whine for the umpteenth time. 
“Because I want to? And also—” You moderately fuck her, then leaned onto her delectable back, licking the sweat off and peppering it with kisses as her walls grew wetter, knowing that she would be close. “—you’re dying to cum, aren’t you?”
Chaewon is silent but her moans, resonating as you didn’t like her inability to respond to you. “I asked you a question, didn’t I—”
“Yes! Yes, just—please, let me cum—”
You won’t stop her, not when you gradually thrusted deeper and hard, her velvety walls inviting you to do so as you can sense her nearing climax, giving everything you can within the last seconds and—
A blissful scream escapes her lips and god, this is a sight.
You pull out within the last second, only to see Chaewon spewing liquid after liquid, onto the floor, spoiling her pants a little and yours. It probably hit her like a train, feeling weaker as she pants in pleasure and sensitivity, her legs leaving her tight frame precarious yet your strength held her to stay still. 
“Gosh—you fucked me so well, huh?” Her pride still ensues even in an post-orgasmic state, and you wouldn’t break a sweat getting it off on her with your cock completely ravaging her again as she continues her words. “Aren’t you dying to cum, too?”
Of course you are, and it’s clearly mutual and rhetorical, but you’ll let her know your own gravitas. “Of course I am but I want it somewhere else.”
It was left behind, completely forgotten but not this time, as your fingers went onto her glistening buttplug, pushing it down as her legs shuddered in response. You thrust the given material deeper as she winces in pain and moans with pleasure. 
Chaewon knows the message well and it’s surely obvious—her little laugh of victory was enough of a statement, and you’ll live enough to fulfill that.
“Of course you always wanted to shove something deep in that hole—probably dreaming, drooling, manifesting—what words should I even u—ow, what the fuck?”
Her garrulous nature is a bug in your ear, clearly annoying yet you marvel with her ability to speak eloquently given the condition—maybe you haven’t fucked her enough to get her drunk with your cock and you can’t lie, she’s a tough woman to break.
As much as you don’t want her words to register through you, you can’t help but agree with her, reading you like a book and is aware of your eyes constantly eyeing her ass as you’re wrecking her folds into oblivion.
You carnally need her, primal instincts taking over you totally.
“Can you just shut your mouth for one second for fuck’s sake?” 
“No. Why would I—ow!” Another is what she gets as you point out something straightforward, clearly yearning for more of her.
Your hands caress that bent plane of her body and then her scrumptious ass, uttering words that are ultimately ravenous. “Do you have any lube? I’m dying to fuck this tight ass of yours right now.”
You’re feral and she knows it all too well. She opens up her purse, and you’re shocked to see a small bottle that contains what you think is pivotal for the latter stages. Chaewon looks over your shoulder, handing you the bottle as you grab it swiftly and immediately avert your eyes onto that plugged puckered hole desperate for such intimate action.
It would be cruel to hand such deprivation towards her just to tease her waiting butt, not when you’re corrupted mentally to do such things no one else would think of.
And you give in, wanting the awaited climax to be worth a memory imprinted in you and hers.
Chaewon wiggles her ass, inviting you to do the unspeakable as you tell her you’re going to remove that plug, easing her anal muscles and there goes the main event. She whines, needy and compliant for you and knowing the methods of yours is empirically derived onto experience (mostly just observing her), you immediately get onto work.
You squeeze a reasonable amount onto your fingers, lathering it onto your entire length, not leaving a single inch untouched and her waiting hole, clenching as soon as you inserted your fingers in and permeating those walls with aiding lubrication. 
Her moans are as pure as honey, sweet and tangy unlike her personality—a duality balancing her as a person and not going to lie, that dynamic is a guilty pleasure.
As you were about to insert your length, Chaewon uttered the words Stop as you ultimately did, piqued on what she had in mind and clearly in the mood to let this through.
“It’s getting uncomfortable here—want you to fuck me against the mirror—”
“Right outside this stall? What if someone barges in—” Interruptions, interruptions, interruptions. Of course, anything could be considered as a risk at this point as you feel your heart skip a beat, feeling this could be the worst and the best experience of your life—best of both worlds and utterly balanced, as someone may say.
“If you don’t want to, then I’ll call this as the end of a note.”
“Fuck no.” It was audacious coming from you as you don’t want this opportunity to be wasted, not when you’re just numerous steps ahead from your victory.
“Say it…” Chaewon’s voice is seductive and it’s making you pliant, akin to your nature earlier which made you think of a choice that’s obviously having an answer in her favor. “Say it to me…”
You lean and your words spit truth. “I’m going to fuck you against that mirror, gape this slutty, tight ass as I make you beg for more.”
Chaewon’s chuckle of triumph falls audible on your ears, and you’ll comply with her needs easily. “Good, now don’t get me waiting.”
---
It is euphoric to say the least, an ounce of energy equals surges of pleasure could never go wrong. This idea of hers can’t help just to aid you, making you even harder and your pace quickening as you pound her harsher against the sink. 
You’d watch her expressions of lust any day, alongside her frame getting railed with a vision on both sides.
“God—I—your cock! Oh fuck!” This is just one of the sentences she utters that isn’t anywhere near being coherent, and thankfully you can listen to her moans instead of her bratty blabberings that result into nothingness. She wants you to be rough onto her puckered hole and you’re entitled to do so, simply because you can easily control her frame right now with your arms in authority onto hers. 
You can sense her legs about to give out, enervated with your constant pounding that puts on a smile on your face, knowing your efforts are getting somewhere and she knows you’ll take advantage of this. The tightness of her snug hole provides is something remarkable—the way it hugs around your shaft hurts and wrings out pleasure, and it couldn’t be any better.
“So—fucking tight, Chae—god!”
“Stretch me out more, p-please—fuck me s-silly—ahh!” It revolves around those sets of words: continuous praises of her ass and your whole length inside it. You release your control of your arms onto her, now gripping her buttcheeks harshly enough for a leverage to opt for a better pace. You hiss as you withdraw and bury more, feeling that inevitable surge of gratification all over you as she aids you with her relaxation of her anal walls. 
You don't care if someone barges in, not even thinking to lock the door and if that does happen, let them have a seat for what will be the greatest performance you’re about to execute.
You can feel that it’s easing up and with her green light, it won’t be a difficult decision to wreak havoc onto that excruciatingly tight yet pleasurable asshole.
“God, please—fuck me until I can’t w-walk—oh shit—fuck!”
She’s a mess in distress, totally within the submergence of your astounding prowess as you bring out an onslaught of thrust, still wincing with her tightness and that didn’t stop you. She cries for you, arms almost giving out with how she grips the sink and with this state of hers, it’s a must to take this mental picture, her expressions shown onto the mirror as a cherry on top.
You throb persistently in every thrust you do and she can feel you getting near but there are words that strokes your ego, making you hubristically out of anyone’s league, matched with hers.
“Gosh—hah—hah, I—oh, l-love your cock so much—holy shit, I’m gonna cum so hard!”
You spank and her walls restrict in regards to your own actions, making you groan with her unparalleled tightness that surely rivaled her pussy. “Cum all over the floor—I’ll help you out, Chae.”
Removing your grip onto her hips, you didn’t waste time rubbing her clit, even inserting fingers onto that sullied cunt of hers and you can feel how wet and near her anticipated orgasm is.
It wasn’t going to take longer than what you expected—clearly close and to the point of no-return, you thrust your fingers in tandem with your thrusts, earning a guttural moan (mostly a scream at this point) from Chaewon and there she goes, fully sent onto the state of a blissful trance.
She’s tighter than earlier and you can feel it, clenching repeatedly as she pants and catches her breath because of such stimulation. Picture this: Chaewon extending her weak arms onto the edge of the sink, both holes clenching as she chases her orgasm and another fountain of that colorless liquid spurts onto the floor. She squirm under her climax, legs relentlessly shaking as you hold her in place, continuous with the extension of her high as she lets out cry after cry for more but to no avail, not all things lasts forever.
She rode the high and recovered quickly, pleading you to continue ramming your length into her and to constantly be rough on her, knowing she could take it well. “Don’t s-stop fucking me—fuck me until you paint my insides white.”
She’s struggling for a bit, groaning as you never backed down nor increased this pace—it is just right, ultimately filling her up to the brim and mixing up her insides, as someone would say.
Your cock is persistently throbbing for god knows how long, dying for an euphoric release as sweat drips down on her back, opting to lick in an inch yourself closer to your own high (maybe some praise onto that skin of hers would elevate you into an heavenly ascension). Knowing how dangerously close you are, you become a primal instrument of lust, relentless and selfish with your movements as every oscillating movement sends the both of you into overdrive.
You didn’t utter a word yet an audible moan as you bury deep inside her, painting her inside white as she clench with the warmth it brings, a stream of subsequent saccharine moans leaving her lips as after you’ve spilled everything inside her, you pull out slowly and you’ve probably broke her. 
The both of you exchanged breaths as you can see her snug hole drip some with your orgasm, completely lost in the trance as she snaps you back to reality, words invigorating you as a person and your senses.
“Oh s—shit… You’ve fucked me so well—” Chaewon’s legs shudders, sore from the fucking she took as she reaches for the buttplug and gave it to you. You know what to do with the plug you have in hand, inserting it inside her puckered hole that’s probably stretched out thanks to you, and she can’t help by gleefully smile, her blissful visage clearly a sunshine between the darkness you’ve unveiled and the dim lights the restroom provides.
“It would be a waste if I’ll just let your load drip on and spoil my pants, y’know?”
You’re mute and clearly exasperated, leaning against the wall of the bathroom stall as Chaewon turns around, facing you as she’s evidently limp and your eyes quickly lock onto hers. “Got nothing to say?”
You part your lips, a breath escapes as you utter, “I never knew this idea would work—you’re crazy for this.”
Chaewon laughs as she lifts her pants up on her waist, wearing and then fixing her blazer as she faces you close, “Of course I am—now let me clean you off.”
She did her wonders and you let her take over. You’d mentally imprint this onto your brain (you’ve said this for like umpteenth times) and will never forget this moment.
But a single question arises in the midst of all of these highs: Did you earn your spot?
Only she can answer that but you’re confident you’ve passed, her holes clearly being spent locks the supposed deserving final decision.
It’s crazy how all of these events unfolded probably in less than a day, unable to fully register these and assess every detail because it felt surreal and too fast. You stand by it, feeling these were too good to be true but as much as you want to snap back to reality, you are walking down victorious, all within your hand’s reach and that’s all that matters.
It’s deep of a night, you’re just driving towards the hotel now after such an exhilarating day and your focus is averted onto two things: reminiscence and the road ahead.
You’re playing with the risk of death but that would be slimmer than zero—driving is just in your blood right now, and this wouldn’t be much of a sweat. Chaewon and you are in an awkward silence, looking at your peripherals to see her on her crossed legs, looking at the distance.
You’re utterly curious about her final conclusion and it’s looking like she won’t say anything so you’ll take matters into your own hands.
“Did I do well, Chaewon?”
She’s the one who’s dead silent—you know it felt ringing onto her eardrums, so when she hasn’t responded for at least five seconds you know she’s ignoring you.
“Hey, Chaewon—”
“What?” Her tone is raised up, sulking and sharp, oblivious to where her newly profound attitude is coming from. A speculation is probably because she’s incredibly tired and her usual grumpy attitude is now being a part of her mood swings. You can’t blame her if that’s the reason behind her demeanor—who wouldn’t be tired when you’ve walked for like kilometers, shopped and had the filthiest sex in a public environment known to man so you empathize.
Guess the speculation is deemed incorrect.
“What’s up with you?” 
“Nothing, I just hate how you fucked me so good earlier…” She’s brutally honest and upon that conclusion, you derived a concrete reasoning and that was the shattering of her ego.
“Well, thank you I guess—but how about—” Chaewon wails as you advance with your words and she knows she accepted defeat and handed the crown onto you—you clearly broke her apart, even got her real feeling hidden as she acts unorthodox to her natural self.
“Okay, you earned it! You did a great job with that, okay, happy?” Even though her words laces as a mock and truly insincere, you can tell she clearly enjoyed that session of yours and you don’t need to wring it out on her and would inadvertently tell how much she loved every second of that.
“Woah—Ms. Kim Chaewon is getting grumpy again, huh—ow!” She slapped your thigh as luckily, it wasn't enough for you to lose control on the wheel or something worse. You chuckle with her sulking attitude and you can’t help but find it adorable (even though she is) and even if it means to tease her rapidly.
“Yah, shut up! But honestly though…” Chaewon fixes herself, eyes onto you as she speaks up with sincerity and none of that bitchy attitude because she knows how you deserved it. “You clearly passed this test and it shows—I could never scream like that if it weren’t for that big dick of yours.”
She’s brutally honest and you love it, everything is factual and earns that little smile curling up on your lips. You smirk as your other hand finds itself towards her clothed thighs, caressing it and earning a yelp coming from her. Thankfully, she did acknowledge your actions, holding you hand as your hubris grows exponential by the second. “I’ll be grateful to fuck you that hard, anytime, anywhere.”
Chaewon’s mouth lets out a gasp, a little shocked by your latter words. “Anytime?”
“Anytime.”
“Anywhere?”
“Anywhere.”
You’re clear with your words and you’d let her know your commitment.
You traverse down the streets, swift with it as you stop once you get near the hotel the both of you are staying in possibly for a night or two, and she takes this opportunity to lock her gaze onto yours and it feels magnetic. Chaewon sighs deeply, and this time, with a smile imprinted on her lips and then the verdict comes after. “Well, I guess it’s official—you’re mine now.”
You don’t know where this will end and you’re playing a cat and mouse game here: what if Yeji knows about this? Regarding that, would you even confess if given the chance when Chaewon’s all over your place? Does Chaewon really consider the facts about yesterday’s circumstances and knows how this will play out?
Behind all of these questions, the truth is what follows: you’ve made this mess by yourself and you’d just know what the future may hold onto you—the angel and the devil clashing into you will tell the tales and build the roads you step on.
But right now, you’ll savor this euphoric night and it’s probably going to be better with her corresponding words sealing the final deal. “Welcome to our world—my world. We’ll have fun—so much fun...”
Fuck, what have you done, and not going to lie, you’re excited on what may happen next as this was just the tip of the iceberg—and this iceberg is a deep one, in all likelihood.
773 notes · View notes
spencerreidenjoyer · 2 days
Text
we've already done it in my head | spencer reid x reader
You have fantasies about Spencer, and you feel bad about it when you have to see him at work. Thing is, he has fantasies about you too.
Tumblr media
wc: 4.8k, rating: explicit
tags/warnings: professor!spencer, post prison!spencer, bau!reader, fem!reader, sexual fantasies, masturbation, daddy kink, getting together, hookups, friends with benefits (?), mentions of public sex/exhibitionism (they don't actually do it), fucking with feelings but neither of them really realise it yet lol...
a/n: i am insane and that's all i'll say about this fic. jk i started this at the top of the month and i'm glad i've finally finished it. this was such a crazy one to work on, aside from being swamped with school work. thank you to my lovely friend from twitter vic who kept encouraging me to work on this hehe. inspired heavily by taylor swift's guilty as sin? (obviously) and chappell roan's picture you just for those horny yearning vibes yknow? please enjoy this insanity!!! (crossposted to ao3)
Spencer rushes in from the university when Emily calls. It’s a serious case, one that Emily decides Spencer needs to be pulled away from his teaching for. She doesn’t feel good doing it – the whole team knows how important teaching is to Spencer, but he understands all the same when he comes into the round table room. Spencer sits down at the last empty seat next to you, his hair a mess as he sets down his things and flips open the case file. He turns to smile at you, before Penelope starts the case brief.
It’s a long, tiring day of work after landing in California, the BAU having been called in to investigate the murders of young moms in the area, and you need a glass of wine and a nice hot bath to even fathom everything you’ve seen today.
You should just turn in for the night, the Bureau being particularly kind with their budget as you all get individual rooms. Your drowsiness should put you fast to sleep, but your mind is racing with thoughts of Spencer.
Spencer’s been in his nice suit all day, filling out his shirt nicely. You’ve noticed his stubble growing in, and his hair is messy and gorgeous. You can’t help yourself for feeling this way, as guilty as you feel about it. You’ve been harbouring your crush on Spencer for way too long, in the couple of years since you joined the BAU. Spencer is a sight for sore eyes for sure, but his kind gentleness despite the horrors of what you all do for work is a welcome reprieve. 
While his sweet nature was what had you falling for him in the first place, Spencer could be extremely sexy, even if he didn’t know it. 
Today was especially tough for you. You and Spencer were sent in to interrogate a particularly uncooperative suspect, playing into the good cop-bad cop dynamic. Your coaxing wasn’t doing anything, and Spencer had ended up raising his voice in an attempt to intimidate them. He’d slammed his hand on the table, a loud clang against the metal, and his large figure only served to crowd the suspect in to scare them further.
You only got to know Spencer after the mess that was him getting wrongly sent to prison, but Spencer supposedly wasn’t like this before prison. Still, you found Spencer’s quiet intimidation incredibly attractive, and you had to keep your composure in the interrogation room earlier.
And your mind drifts to Spencer from earlier, his rough callousness with the suspect, his glare wild and intimidatingly sexy, you end up thinking about him.
About Spencer, who is so kind and sweet with you and the rest of the team, seeming like he couldn’t hurt a fly. 
About Spencer who could also be domineering and intimidating. He seems like he’d only pull it out if you asked, but the duality has you hot under the collar. 
Your eyes slip shut, mind swirling with thoughts of Spencer, about having him all to yourself, about him wanting you. 
About his large hands on you, making you feel so small under his firm grasp. 
About him pinning you down on the hard, cool metal of the table in the interrogation room. 
About him caging you in with his arms, the look in his eyes almost crazed and full of lust for you. 
“Spencer,” you gasp, before Spencer kisses you fervently. His stubble is rough against your skin, but you don’t care. Spencer kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his next meal, with such desperation that you feel weak in the knees.
“You’re gorgeous,” Spencer says. He kisses your jaw, down your neck, and his large hands are all over your body. You feel so secure in his grasp, he feels you up and drinks his fill of you. He gropes your tits, your thighs, your ass, manhandling you into spreading your legs, so he can press the hardness of his cock to your cunt. “Look what you do to me.”
You whimper, fully indulging in this wet dream as you slide a hand into your underwear. “Spencer,” you gasp.
“You’re so hot, you make me feel crazy,” Spencer hums, rolling his hips against you. You’re separated between layers of fabric, but Spencer humping you like this turns you on to no end. 
You rub at your clit in tight little circles, your wetness aiding the slide as you get yourself off to the thought of Spencer.
“Spence,” you moan, frustrated. While Spencer’s hardness grinding against you is literally a dream, you want to imagine his cock buried inside of you. You’re perfectly capable of moving this along, so you do. 
Magically, Spencer’s clothes are off and so are yours, the perks of a fantasy being that you don’t have to awkwardly stumble through taking your clothes off. You have a hazy picture of what he’d look like naked in front of you. You imagine toned muscle, a slight pudge to his tummy from his time in prison, his pecs filled out nicely. You imagine his cock would be pretty, as pretty as he is, veiny and thick and all sorts of perfect. 
“You’re too fucking good to me, baby,” Spencer groans, the blunt head of his cock pressed up against you now. He rubs off against you, sliding over your clit, your folds, over the wetness leaking from your whole. “Gonna fuck you so good, just like you deserve.”
Without hesitation, Spencer’s cock slips into you, the perfect thickness to make you feel full as he slides in inch by inch. 
You slip your fingers into yourself, aided by how impossibly wet you are just at the thought of Spencer, and your groan weakly. Two fingers aren’t enough, not when you bet Spencer could fill you up, like he’d split you in half on his cock. 
He pushes into you until he’s pressed flush against you, buried inside of you to the hilt. He starts to pound into you, like he’s uncaring of what you need, but the way he treats you turns you on impossibly.
Your fingers aren’t enough to satiate you, but you thrust them in and out of you in an effort to mimic how Spencer fucking you might feel. You moan, a little louder than you’d like.
“Spence–” you gasp, in your fantasy. It should be scandalous, Spencer taking you over the table in the interrogation room. You don’t know if the thought of people being behind the one-way mirror turns you on or not – being watched, letting Spencer take you in front of everybody. You like the thought of Spencer being so obsessed with you, so desperate, needing to fuck you right where you work.
The metal table is cool and harsh against your hips, but you don’t care if it hurts as Spencer fucks you relentlessly, quickly taking on a brutal pace. It’s exactly what you need, what you want Spencer to do with you, being rough and frantic enough to make you scream his name.
You whimper his name under your breath, bashful even while in your fantasy. 
Spencer has you pinned down, but it’s not like you intend to get away. You want to savour this even if it’s only in your mind, shameful as you’re getting off to the thought of your coworker. You just need this out of your system, need Spencer out of your system, and then tomorrow you can face him like a normal, well-adjusted person. 
“Fuck,” you gasp, palm grinding against your clit, fingers pressed inside of yourself. You’re shaking, with the thought of Spencer fucking you until you can’t take it anymore, the ideal of him in your mind too perfect, until you’re moaning into your hand as you orgasm. You sob, clenching tight around your fingers, feeling your slick gush out as you ride your high.
You don’t mean to fall asleep, but after both a long day and a crazy good orgasm, you end up passing out with a tissue clenched in your hand, with your panties and sleep shorts kicked off to the foot of the bed.
---
Spencer can’t stop thinking about you.
He shouldn’t, not when you’re his coworker and also one of the people he’s friendliest with in the unit. 
Spencer would say he couldn’t bring himself to trust many, especially after coming out of prison, but you were the one he warmed up to the easiest. A new face in the BAU wasn’t uncommon, but Spencer had found himself drawn to you. You were kind and warm to him fresh out of prison, your tenderness a welcome reprieve as he’d gotten accustomed to being back at the BAU. With your intellect and quick wit, matched with your beauty, Spencer could not help but be attracted to you – but that’s besides the point. 
Spencer knows how much your friendship with him means to you, and he’s certain that that’s all you see him as: a friend. 
Yet, he can’t stop himself from thinking about you in those pants. Those pants that hug your curves just right. Those pants that make your ass look great – not that he was looking – especially when you’re leaning over an interrogation table, trying to play the good cop with the suspect from earlier.
Spencer had hung back, trying to get a read on the suspect while you spoke to him. Him getting to ogle your figure and stare at how good you looked in those pants was unintentional, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. 
Spencer only felt a bit bad wrapping his hand around himself in the shower, mind flooded with thoughts of you. Water, almost scorching, running down his body, his hand moves fast and reckless, exhaling harshly as he gets himself off. 
He can’t get you out of his mind, your gorgeous figure, your pretty face, your wide eyes and thick thighs and soft lips – he shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. You were a coworker, a friend, for God’s sake, and yet he can’t stop imagining you under him. 
He can’t stop imagining pressing you against the table in the interrogation room – your lithe frame underneath him, making you look so small, making him feel so big. 
He presses his growing problem to your perfect ass, watching you writhe underneath him. You keep looking back up at him, with your wide, wet eyes and your flushed cheeks, looking like you need him to give you exactly what you need.
“Please, daddy,” you whine, and Spencer is groaning and undoing his belt before your pants get pushed down too. Stroking his cock quickly, Spencer easily finds his way to your entrance, wet and dripping with your slick. He pushes into you, pressing kisses to your neck as you groan with the intrusion. 
“Daddy,” you whimper, “Feels so good.”
“Yeah?” Spencer coos at you. Spencer feels you press yourself back up against him, pushing his cock deeper, and he loses all sense of control as he starts to fuck you hard. He feels like a madman, unable to hold himself back as he takes and takes and takes, fucking into your tight wetness, his head spinning with how good you feel around him. 
You’re whining and moaning under him, your noises music to Spencer’s ears as they echo off the walls. Your cunt is wet and sloppy as Spencer fucks you, wanting to give you everything you need and more.
“Fuck, baby,” Spencer groans, his hand tightly fisted around his cock. The way the tip of his cock leaks is easing the slide, as he pictures in crystal-clear detail how your cunt would draw him in, slick and messy be fucks into your perfect, tight cunt. “You’re too good to me.”
“Daddy,” you sob, your hands clawing down Spencer’s back. Spencer gropes you greedily through your clothes, grabs your tits and feels his fill of your waist, your perfect ass, your thighs as he rocks himself back and forth between them. 
“Gonna cum inside of you, love,” Spencer grunts, his pace unrelenting. His hands are on your thighs, gripping you tight, both fucking into you and dragging you onto his cock over and over. “You’re gorgeous. Gonna make a mess of you.”
You’re whining underneath him, making him feel too good, as you clench around him tight and moan even louder. Spencer can’t help himself, thrusting into you hard and fast and eager until he’s cumming.
He spills into his hand, the thick white ropes of his cum washed down the drain with the spray of the shower from above him. Visions of you flash through his mind, your gorgeous frame, your pretty face, your mouth on his. 
He’s barely towelled off before he’s knocked out in his bed, too tired to even process feeling guilty about jerking off to you. 
---
Sure, perhaps it’s childish to try and avoid Spencer all day, especially when you have an active case all of you need to be working on. You must be a fool to think that getting yourself off to Spencer would help, because all you can think about is your fantasies of him last night, how you imagined him bending you over and taking you– Not helping, you remind yourself.
Emily must secretly be on your side or be able to read your mind or something, because Spencer is relegated to work on geographic profiles and speed-read through case files back at the police precinct, while you get sent out onto the field to chase down your killer. 
But you can’t avoid Spencer forever, and you aren’t any good at it either. You feel like Spencer’s eyes are on you the whole day when you and him are in the same room, but you never look up at him to find out. While you could chalk up your nerves to a serial killer still being out on the streets, you don’t have any more excuses at the end of the day when you’ve finally caught him, and the team decides to get dinner to celebrate.
You purposely wedge yourself between JJ and Emily when you sit down at the table, trying to avoid Spencer, and you think you’re successful with getting away with seeming a little out-of-it when you end up slipping away early, claiming you had a rough sleep last night.
You’ve barely settled down in your hotel room for the night, finally feeling like you can relax, when there’s a knock at your door. You have no clue who it could be, but you open the door, and–
There Spencer is. 
“Hi,” you say curtly, feeling embarrassment wash over you all of a sudden, because all you can think about is getting off to the thought of him last night. You feel your cheeks warm, but you hope it’s not obvious that you’re blushing. Then, in an attempt to seem somewhat normal and well-adjusted, you add, “What’s up?”
“I should be asking you that,” Spencer says, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “What’s up with you today?”
You press your lips together in a thin line before you say, “Nothing’s up. I’m fine.”
“Come on,” Spencer prods, his head cocking to the side as he deadpans. “You know I can read you like an open book. Something’s up.”
You frown, Spencer stoking the flames of brattiness in you. “Yeah? Tell me what’s the matter, if you can read me so well.”
Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.
“I- I thought we said no inter-group profiling,” Spencer says, his voice a little weak, and for the first time, you see Spencer look a little helpless. It’s kind of hot. 
Do you make him… nervous?
“Yeah, but if you insist on thinking something’s up with me…” You shrug, smiling. Spencer just blinks at you.
No. You couldn’t possibly entertain the thought. 
Spencer clears his throat. You watch him fidget with his hands just slightly, before he puts them by his sides to seem confident. “Well, you’ve been avoiding me, on purpose or not – both attest to your desire to avoid me somewhat. You could barely look me in the eye all day, which means you might be embarrassed or guilty of something, likely having to do with me.” Spencer says, his voice even, but he isn’t looking at you. 
You raise your eyebrows. His explanation is both specific and vague, and you feel slightly called out and safe from his scrutiny at the same time. But, you can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something more to Spencer’s words, the way he’s looking at you like he hopes you can’t pick his brain apart. 
So, you turn it back onto him, “Then, what do you think is the problem? You aren’t looking at me either, and you were fidgeting with your hands. Is something up with you, then? It almost sounds like you’re projecting, Dr. Reid.”
Spencer freezes, like he’s a deer caught in headlights. You can practically see his brain running a mile a minute, overthinking every possible outcome, overly self-aware of himself, his actions, his thoughts.
You try to stop yourself from smiling, because Spencer is kind of cute like this. “You wanna tell me what it is then, Reid?” 
“When did this become about me?” Spencer squeaks, his usually cool facade quickly disappearing. There’s a look in Spencer’s eyes, as he nervously looks you up and down, and oh– “I just– Well, I– You–”
“I’m thinking we might be on the same page, here,” you say, smirking. “Wanna tell me what it is?”
Spencer furrows his brows, his mouth agape as he looks up at you, but you’re putting your hand on his chest and trailing it down slowly. “Oh–”
“Tell me, Dr. Reid,” you cock your head, eyeing him up and down lazily. When you look at Spencer’s face, he’s shocked, enamoured and turned-on all in one. 
“You’re… attracted to me,” Spencer says, somewhat uncertain. “The same way I’m attracted to you.”
“And what makes you say that?” You hum. 
“I thought I heard you last night. Through the walls,” He says timidly, nothing you’ve seen from him before. “Thought I should’ve gone over to help, but I realised you were, um– You were pleasuring yourself. To- To me.”
“The walls are thin, huh?” You laugh, a little sheepish, but you note how Spencer’s becoming shy at the thought. “Did you…?”
His eyes grow wide. “Did I do what?”
You smirk. “That tells me everything I need to know, Reid,” you say, laughing.
“Well, you shouldn’t presume–”
“Shut up and kiss me, Reid,” you huff. You pull Spencer closer to you by his tie and you press your lips to his. 
It’s too perfect, when Spencer’s mouth is finally on yours. His hands cupping your face, Spencer kisses you hard and eager, like he can’t believe that he finally gets to have you. He kisses you like he’s starving, desperate for you as his next meal. You moan as his hands reach for your hips, pulling you in closer to him, greedy as he feels you up.
“Did you fantasise about this too? About me, like this?”
“This is better than I could’ve ever imagined,” Spencer says breathily. “You… You’re so attractive.”
“Could say the same about you,” you laugh, reaching to unbutton his shirt. His tie is already loose, hanging around his neck, but you want to see more. You undo the top few buttons, revealing more of his chest. You trail your finger over the exposed skin, letting your nail graze it slightly. You hear Spencer inhale sharply, and grin to yourself, proud of the effect you have on him. “So, do you want to just stand around and talk, or do you want to fuck me?”
Spencer’s eyes widen, and you chuckle. As if he hadn’t expected this was how it was going to go. Spencer purses his lips. “I mean, absolutely. I want to fuck you. But, um– We should definitely talk about this though.”
“Later,” you say, waving him off, before you lean in to kiss him again. Spencer grabs your waist again, like he needs to have you close. He lifts you slightly, making you squeak, but the both of you stumble over to the bed, unable to keep your hands off of each other, unable to keep your mouths off each other. You sit down on the bed, Spencer crowding you in with one of his knees on the mattress.
You loosen his tie and take it off, while Spencer moves to unbutton your shirt. HIs hands move deftly, eager to undress you, and he pulls away to marvel at the curve of your breasts in your bra when he pushes the satin shirt off of you. “Wow.”
“Wow yourself,” you say. You appreciate the view: a dishevelled, eager Spencer Reid in your bed, his hands all over you, his shirt half-undone, revealing tanned skin and a gorgeous body. “Need you to fuck me right now.”
Spencer laughs, perhaps a little incredulously, and he instead moves to take his shirt off instead. “I’ll- I’ll do that.”
“Good,” you say, distracted as you admire Spencer’s frame, the lines of his body, the softness of his stomach. He’s so hot you might die. “Very good.”
“I’m glad you like the view,” Spencer says, a little timid, like he’s shy to show off in front of you. He meets your gaze when you look up at him, caught in the middle of ogling him with no shame. 
You smile up at him sheepishly. “Please fuck me, Spencer.”
“Okay,” Spencer smiles, warm and gentle. He helps you slide your pants and underwear off your legs before you spread them. Spencer’s jaw drops, his eyes focused on the slick mess of your cunt. “Oh, my God.”
“Yeah?” you laugh, thoroughly amused with his reaction. “Show me how much you want me, too.”
Spencer’s hands are quick to push down his bottoms, dress slacks and boxer-briefs on your floor in an instant, wrapping a fist around himself as he works himself up for you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him – “Spencer, you’re… big.”
“Am I?” Spencer asks, and you’d lose your mind if you weren’t expecting Spencer to fuck your brains out. 
“You are,” you say calmly, because if you let yourself sound any more excited he might think you were insane. “But I can take you.”
Spencer grins. “Good.”
His fingers press against your cunt after you tell him to do so. His slender digits pick up all the slick that’s leaking from your hole, spreading it around messily as he toys with your clit. You shudder with the sensation, throwing your head back against the pillows. Then, one of his fingers slips into you, and he coaxes you open with a care you haven’t felt from most partners before. “How’s that?”
“So nice,” you groan, getting used to the feeling. He fucks you on his fingers, slow and careful, intent on stretching you out until you’re comfortable. You whimper and whine, feeling embarrassed at how vocal you’re being, but Spencer is kissing your breasts without a care in the world, and then you’re thinking about letting him know that you do feel good. Your next gasp is less ashamed, as Spencer coaxes a second finger in.
You’re panting as Spencer fucks you on his fingers, the repeated motion only working you up even more. The squelch from his fingers fucking you is obscene, and his eyes are wide as he looks at you. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. 
“Fuck me, Spence,” you say. 
Spencer bites his lip as he sits up and settles between your legs. He’s tugging at his cock as he lines himself up with your entrance. He slides his length along your folds, wet with your slick, and you groan at the friction. You grunt, wanting more, “Come on, Spence.” 
His hand on your leg, Spencer leans forward so he can press into you, and Spencer is practically folding you in half so he can fuck you. You moan at his thickness deep inside of you, filling you up, and the stretch is so undeniably amazing. Spencer’s length drags against your walls, such a delicious sensation deep in your bones, and you sob a little.
“Does that feel good?” Spencer asks softly, his voice tender. 
“So good, Spence,” you gasp. Spencer kisses your cheek, down your neck, and waits patiently for you to give him the go-ahead.
You feel his cock twitching inside of your heat, both your fantasies unable to live up to the real thing. Confident, cocky Spencer in your dreams is just that – a dream. The Spencer right in front of you is perfect, more perfect than what you’ve dreamed: shy but so attentive and sweet. He takes such good care of you. It makes you lose your mind a little bit.
“Fuck me,” you insist, and Spencer puts his hands on your hips as he starts to move. He fucks you deep, just the way you need him, and you cry out as he digs into your soft flesh, holding you tight so he can fuck you hard. The way Spencer pounds into you has your whole body trembling, pleasure coursing through you like electricity, till your mouth has fallen open and your toes are curling. 
“You’re so much better than I imagined,” Spencer groans, eyes squeezed shut as he puts all his energy into railing you. “Can’t believe this is real.”
You clench around him just to hear him moan, and you’re proud of yourself when his hips stutter and a groan rips through his throat in his pleasure. He glares at you. You grin, as Spencer keeps fucking you.
“What- Oh, fuck– What did you imagine? With me?” You gasp, as Spencer rolls his hips in a particularly deep thrust.
Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, before looking down at you, like he’s really contemplating if he should say this. “I– I pictured bending you over the interrogation table. Fucking you, making you scream my name, taking you right there, I–”
You moan as Spencer hits that perfect spot inside of you, your legs trembling as you gasp, “I– Why did we have the same fucking fantasy? Fuck–”
“What? You thought of me that way too?” Spencer sounds incredulous, like he can’t imagine you thinking of him that way– As if he isn’t drilling you into the hotel bed right now.
“Fuck, Spencer– Oh, my God– Yeah, I– You had me pinned down on the table, and you were fucking me in the interrogation room, in front of all of them–”
“God, you’re perfect,” Spencer grunts, burying his head in your shoulder as he uses the leverage to fuck you deeper, harder, faster. You can’t stop moaning Spencer’s name, simply too overwhelmed with the pleasure he’s giving you, the way he’s fucking you into the mattress. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Spencer fucking you like a madman, giving you all the pleasure you need but still being greedy enough to take and take and take. 
“Please! Spencer, you– I’m gonna cum, I can’t–” You cry, sobs wracking their way from your throat, so loud but you can’t be bothered to keep yourself quiet. Spencer groans your name, a sweet, sultry sound, and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. 
“Cum for me,” Spencer hums. “You’re so perfect, and you’re laid out like this all for me. You’re so fucking hot. Show me how good I make you feel.”
You’re sobbing as your orgasm hits you, overwhelmed by Spencer’s filthy words and his filthier actions, so intense as he fucks you into next week. It’s too good, and you lose yourself much sooner than you expect. Your pussy clenches tight around Spencer with your orgasm, sending him over the edge as he fills you up, cock twitching as he cums inside of you.
He collapses on top of you, his weight comfortable as you both catch your breath. Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t care when Spencer is leaning over to kiss you again. It feels so right, this wild feeling you only thought existed in your dreams.
The next morning when the team is gathered in the hotel lobby to head to the hangar to fly back to Quantico, Emily gives you a pointed look, and Rossi is clapping Spencer on the back with a knowing grin. You apologise sheepishly, while Spencer grows red, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the team. He only meets your eyes, and the two of you share a smile. You can tell neither of you want this to end here. Maybe you’ll talk about it when you get back home. 
942 notes · View notes
pathologicalreid · 2 days
Text
what goes bump in the night | s.r.
Tumblr media
in which Spencer's struggling with violent nightmares after prison, and you find yourself on the receiving end of his tossing and turning
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: reader gets whapped in the face. don't like don't read, please. blood, prison arc, black eye, a lot of guilt. therapy. word count: 1.89k a/n: (this wasn't a request but shout out to the anon who told me i had to repost this after i deleted it) this is some dark shit but i have to admit i do think about the possibility a lot. take care while reading my loves.
Tumblr media
Several years in the BAU had inadvertently trained you to wake up at any slight movement or noise. While some might call it paranoia, you considered it to be a finely tuned skill.
Spencer didn’t sleep talk before prison, and even now, he only mumbled in his sleep when he was having a nightmare. Normally, he didn’t move, he just tossed his head around and begged for whoever he was seeing in his nightmare to just hold on. Tonight was different, he sounded like he was pleading for someone to leave him alone, and he was thrashing more than usual.
You knew there was a risk of waking him, but you reached out and gently shook his shoulder anyway. “Spence,” you whispered, not wanting to hurtle him out of his darkened dreamscape.
There was no response. No sign of him coming even close to waking up.
His thrashing became worse, and his mumbling became even less intelligible like something was covering his mouth in his dream. Reaching out from your side of the bed, you tried to grab his hand, hoping it would be something that he could use to ground himself. Gripping his hand, you said his name again, more forcefully this time.
The pain didn’t even register at first. The first thing you recognized was the sensation of having something stuck in your eye, a small twinge in the outer corner that sent your hands flying to the side of your face.
Oh.
With your uninjured eye, you looked up to see Spencer, awake. Breathing heavy, sure, but awake. Very slowly, his breathing slowed, but he had seemingly forgotten that he was sharing a bed with you until you felt liquid trickling from your nose and scrambled to the bathroom before you got blood all over the sheets.
His wide eyes followed your shadow through the bedroom, putting the convoluted puzzle pieces together as he came out from under his nightmare-induced fugue state only to find a different type of panic. You faintly heard him curse and rustle the sheets as you shut the bathroom door harder than you intended.
You looked at yourself in the mirror, your right eye was tearing up as a result of the impact, and your nose was trickling blood down your face. Grabbing a wad of tissues from the box on the counter, you pressed them to your nose, blinking the tears from your eyes to the sound of your heart beating through your chest.
Spencer knocked on the bathroom door, followed by a larger thud that you assumed was him leaning his head against the door. “Can I come in?”
You tried not to sniff, hating the sensation of your nose being covered, you responded, “It’s your bathroom.” Your tone was far too blasé, and Spencer was going to see through it immediately.
“That’s not what I asked,” he told you, a slight tone of desperation ringing through. You knew what he wanted to know; he was asking if you were comfortable with him being in the same room as you – if you’d feel safe with him in the same room as you.
Leaning your head back, you took as deep of a breath as your body would physically allow you before you answered, “Yeah, you can come in.”
Before you had even finished speaking, Spencer had opened the door to the bathroom, letting the light stream into the bedroom, “Fuck,” he murmured when he saw you, “Hey, don’t lean your head back. You don’t want the blood to run down your throat.”
“Okay,” your voice quavered, watching him lift his hands like he wanted to guide your head down until he realized he didn’t know what to do with his hands – he couldn’t bring himself to touch you. Leaning over the sink, you let coagulated blood fall from your mouth, watching it go down the drain before you looked up at Spencer, who watched on in horror at the mess he had created. “Can you grab more tissues?” You asked him, giving him a job to busy his idle hands.
Instantly, Spencer grabbed a handful of tissues and held them out for you, within your range of motion. Still leaning over the sink, you took the new tissues and held them to your nose, haphazardly dropping the soiled tissue in the basin beneath you. “I don’t… What-“
Cutting him off, you spoke, “Do you still have those ice packs? The first aid ones from last year,” you made a new request, giving him a job to perform so that he wouldn’t apologize to you. He’d apologize until he was blue in the face, but you still wouldn’t know how to respond.
He nodded, crouching in front of one of the cabinets and filtering through a first aid kit, hoping to produce a disposable ice pack for you to place near your eye. With the timidness of a newborn foal, Spencer set the plastic on the counter next to you.
Your boyfriend watched as you carefully peeled the tissues from your face, checking to see if the bleeding had stopped, only to quickly replace the tissue when you noticed a trickle of fresh blood making its way down your philtrum. “Aren’t you supposed to pinch it or something?”
“Yes, you can pinch the bridge of your nose to staunch the bleeding,” Spencer said, grabbing your discarded Kleenex and putting them in the garbage bin. He watched intently as you reached up your free hand to pinch your nose, “Does… does it hurt?”
Giving him a quick shake of the head, you met his eyes through the mirror, “I don’t think it’s broken,” you told him, avoiding answering most of his question.
He loosed a sigh of relief, “Thank god,” he murmured, keeping an eye on you as you wondered how terrified he must have been to invoke the name of a deity he didn’t believe in.
Once you were finally able to drop the last of the tissues in the sink, you were faced with an even worse reality. There was no way of escaping the black eye that you already had forming, the tender skin would be further marred with time. “I think it looks worse than it actually is,” you offered meekly, reaching to your side and grabbing the ice pack off of the counter. You popped the center of it before wrapping it in a towel that Spencer had set out for you.
Holding in a hiss as the towel touched your face, you allowed your eyes to wander across the rest of your body. Your shirt had drips of blood on it, but the larger issue was red encrusted all over your face. With the urgency of a sloth, Spencer took a different towel from the drawer and ran it under the tap, wringing it out before holding it up, “May I?”
“Yeah,” you breathed, thankful for your newly cleared airway as you extended your neck, giving him the access he needed to wipe the blood from your chin and neck. “Spence-“
“I’m so sorry,” he interjected, his movements faltering as he let his hand drop to your shoulder.
You shook your head, crinkling the icepack in your hand, you blinked rapidly, hoping to clear your vision. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t have grabbed you,” you told him, it was the truth. He had obviously been having a violent nightmare, and you grabbing him had likely triggered a fight or flight response.
Spencer sighed dejectedly, “I burst a blood vessel in your eye. I’m so…” his voice trailed off in the middle of his sentence, leaving you unsure whether he was going to apologize again or go off on a self-deprecating tirade. “I hit you,” he breathed, abruptly yanking his hands away from you, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you.” Setting the washcloth on the counter, he put his hands up in surrender and stepped away from you.  
Leaning against the bathroom counter, you wished for an inkling – anything you could say to him that would prevent his auto-villainization. “I wish you wouldn’t say it like that. Saying you hit me sounds so…”
“Wrong? That’s because it is,” he said harshly, and you could almost see the storm of self-loathing that was brewing in his mind.
Shaking your head, you adjusted your grip on the icepack before looking up at him, “but it makes it sound like it was intentional. You didn’t hit me, you… thwapped me.”
Spencer loosed a shaky sigh, “I’m not so sure that’s better.”
“Would you prefer bonked?” You proposed, looking at him and hoping for a small smile, but being disappointed when you were met with the same haunted expression. “It was an accident,” you insisted, reaching out your unoccupied hand and taking his hand in yours, “I am fine.”
He scoffed dismissively, “I should have had a better handle on myself.”
You frowned, “You were asleep, Spence. You couldn’t have had a better handle on yourself. It wasn’t on purpose, and you’re taking care of me now,” you told him softly.
“But you’re scared of it happening again,” he challenged you.
When he had come home, you knew he had been changed. Not necessarily for the better or for worse, but he was most certainly changed. You had heard everything in bits and pieces, what had happened in Millburn, what had happened with Cat, but nothing had prepared you for the harshness of your new reality. He was capable of harming others, but that didn’t mean you thought he’d hurt you again. “You’re disappointed in yourself, but you don’t believe you get to feel that way. You’re projecting onto me,” you told him, taking your hand back.
Spencer flinched back, “Don’t profile me.”
“You, Spencer Reid, would never knowingly lay a hand on me,” you insisted, you believed it. You believed it even if he didn’t believe it himself.
The two of you sat in an angst-filled silence before he stood up straight, gently starting to usher you into the bedroom. Handing you a t-shirt from your drawer to change into, you could see his internal struggle as he grabbed a pillow from the bed and made his way toward the door.
Despondently, your shoulders slumped forward, “Where are you going?” You asked softly, hating to watch him leave your shared bedroom over this.
“I’m sleeping on the couch. I’m gonna… I’ll try to set up a meeting with my therapist in the morning. I just…” his voice trailed off as he looked at you with wide, sad eyes, “You’re okay?”
Your heart ached at his voice as you nodded, opening your arms for him and letting out a sigh of relief when he returned to you for a hug. Reaching your free hand behind him, you rubbed his back comfortingly, “We’re going to make it through this, mark my words.”
He nodded in affirmation as he pulled away, “For my own peace of mind, I’ll sleep on the couch for a while.”
You accepted it, knowing that he needed to deal with this in his own way, he closed the door behind him, effectively leaving you alone. Laying back on the pillows with your icepack still clutched to your face, you sighed, wondering how long it had been since your boyfriend felt any semblance of peace of mind.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
660 notes · View notes
rafecameronssl4t · 3 days
Text
The weight of expectations || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Summary: I know you guys wanted more soft moments between Rafe and reader in this au so here you go!!!
Warnings: nothing!
Word count: 1,532
MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)
Tumblr media
divider by @h-aewo
The dimly lit office in the Cameron building had always carried an air of prestige, a reminder of the empire Ward Cameron had built with his own hands. But now, Rafe sat behind the polished mahogany desk, feeling the weight of that legacy pressing down on his shoulders.
His reflection in the window—sharp suit, tired eyes, jaw clenched—was one of a man constantly battling his own demons. Rafe’s phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. The meeting with Mr. Cartwright was scheduled for five minutes ago, but knowing Cartwright, he would make him wait a little longer just to make a point.
Rafe’s lip twitched in annoyance. This was supposed to be simple—sign the deal, deliver, and collect the reward. But like everything in his life lately, nothing was as easy as it seemed. As if on cue, the heavy doors creaked open, and Mr. Cartwright strode in, his presence filling the room with the unmistakable arrogance of someone who thought he could toy with the Camerons.
Rafe hated men like him. Cartwright was older, maybe late forties, with graying hair slicked back and a suit so tailored it made a statement by itself. Still, Cartwright had power, and Rafe knew they needed him for this deal. Rafe’s eyes narrowed, but he stood, gesturing to the chair across from him. “You’re late.”
Cartwright smirked, unbothered. “You’ve got nothing but time, Cameron.” Rafe resisted the urge to slam his fist on the table. The conversation turned cold quickly, escalating from subtle jabs to outright confrontation as Cartwright slammed his hand on the desk. “This wasn’t the outcome we agreed on, Cameron. I expected the deal to be completed two weeks ago.”
Rafe gritted his teeth, leaning back in his chair, trying to play it cool. Cartwright was testing him, seeing if Rafe would break under pressure. “Things take time, Cartwright. We’re working on it. You can’t expect a project this size to wrap up overnight.” But Cartwright wasn’t having it.
“I expected results, not excuses. I trusted your family’s name—your father’s name—when I signed on to this. Now, you’re telling me I just need to ‘wait’? My investors don’t have time for your delays.” Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “I think you forget I was my father’s protégé, and now I’m handling the business. You underestimate me.”
“I don’t care what your investors think. The timelines shifted, and there’s nothing anyone can do about that. We’ll deliver, but on our schedule, not yours.” Mr. Cartwright slams his hand down on the table, eyes narrowing. “Your schedule is putting my reputation on the line. I’m not some small-time client you can string along. My name holds weight, and if your company can’t keep up, I’ll take my business elsewhere.”
Rafe’s eyes flicker with irritation, but he maintains his composure, though his tone becomes icier. “You’re not going anywhere, and we both know that.” He leans forward, his stare sharp. “You’ve invested too much in this project to pull out now. So let’s stop pretending you have the upper hand here.”
Mr. Cartwright scoffs, clearly insulted. “Your father knew how to handle his business. You, on the other hand, seem more interested in playing house with your perfect little wife and children than focusing on the deals that matter.” The mention of you brought heat rising to Rafe’s face.
His jaw clenched as he fought to control his temper. The comment hit too close to home. Cartwright had no idea what his marriage was like, the public façade they upheld, the tangled mess of feelings that simmered beneath the surface. “Mention my wife again, and you’ll regret it,” Rafe spat, his voice low and dangerous.
Cartwright just smirked. “Touchy subject, huh? Maybe if you focused on the business instead of her, this deal wouldn’t be falling apart.” That did it. Rafe was out of his chair, leaning over the desk, his eyes flashing with barely controlled rage. “You don’t get to talk about her. You signed the contract. You’ll get what we promised, but on our terms.”
“If you’re too much of a coward to stick it out, then fine—walk away. But you’re not going to find anyone better than me in this industry, and you know it.” The room was tense, their stares locked in a silent battle of wills. Cartwright didn’t budge. Instead, he straightened his suit jacket, his mouth set in a hard line.
“I’ll give you one month, Cameron. If this doesn’t turn around by then, I’ll make sure everyone knows how your family is crumbling—starting with you. Rafe forced himself to relax, stepping back from the desk, his smirk returning, though there was no warmth behind it. “One month. You’ll get your results. But you don’t scare me, Cartwright. Cross me, and you’ll regret it.”
With one final glance, Cartwright turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, leaving Rafe standing alone, the weight of the confrontation settling over him. He ran a hand through his hair, muttering a string of curses under his breath.
~
It was nearing 8 p.m. when Rafe pulled into the driveway, his mind still buzzing from the heated argument with Cartwright. He had no doubt he could deliver on the deal—he always found a way. But tonight, Cartwright’s words had gotten under his skin in a way that lingered, like a dull throb at the back of his mind.
The quiet of the house was almost unsettling as he stepped inside, the weight of the day’s events hanging heavily on his shoulders. Making his way upstairs, Rafe entered the bedroom, immediately spotting you on the bed, nursing Leo. Your eyes were closed, head leaned back against the headboard, one hand gently patting Leo’s back as he fed contentedly.
Rafe sighed, running a hand over his face, feeling the tension in his body slowly begin to ease. As complicated as things were between you, there was an undeniable comfort in your presence—an unspoken understanding that neither of you acknowledged but both felt. Rafe quietly crossed the room, his gaze softening as he approached.
Leo’s wide eyes met his, curious and bright. Rafe couldn’t help but smile, reaching out to gently stroke his son’s cheek. Leo’s tiny hand immediately grasped Rafe’s finger, holding on tight. A warmth spread through Rafe’s chest, and for a moment, the stress of the day melted away. His eyes shifted back to you.
Your breathing was calm, features relaxed in a way that made you look at peace, despite everything swirling around your lives. There was something soothing about the scene in front of him—something grounding. Leo’s eyes never left Rafe, watching his father with that same innocent curiosity. “Tough day?” Your voice, soft but alert, broke the silence.
Rafe’s gaze snapped up, meeting your half-lidded eyes as you watched him, though you hadn’t moved. He straightened, clearing his throat as he walked to the dresser, his back turned to you. “Just another asshole trying to tell me how to run my business,” he muttered, slipping off his watch and setting it down with more force than necessary.
“Cartwright’s testing me,” Rafe continued, running a hand through his hair before heading turned back around, leaning against the dresser. “Thinks I’m not my father.” Your gaze softened as you watched him. “You’re not your father, Rafe. And that’s not a bad thing.”
His blue eyes searched yours, trying to figure out if you truly meant it. There was a sincerity there, a quiet support that he wasn’t used to. It disarmed him for a moment, making him pause as he watched you with a curiosity that mirrored his son’s. The way you moved so naturally—so gracefully—as you gently lifted Leo and placed him in his bassinet beside the bed was a sight he found himself quietly admiring.
A soft sigh left your lips as you tucked him in, smoothing the blankets before slipping back beneath the sheets. You glanced up at him, still leaning against the dresser, lost in thought. “Are you going to get ready for bed?” you asked, your voice soft but carrying that calm tone you always seemed to have when it came to him.
There was no pressure, just a simple question, but it tugged at something deeper within Rafe. He cleared his throat, standing up a little straighter. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he muttered, his voice low as he turned back to the dresser, his fingers absently fiddling with the cufflinks on his shirt.
But he didn’t move right away. Instead, he stood there for a moment longer, watching you settle into the bed, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping around him like a comfort he hadn’t realised he needed. Despite the chaos that always seemed to swirl around them—around him—there was a strange sense of peace in this room, in this space they shared.
Even if it wasn’t always easy, even if things between them were complicated, there was something grounding in the quiet moments like these. And as much as Rafe hated to admit it, those moments were starting to mean more to him than he had ever expected.
615 notes · View notes
tender-rosiey · 3 days
Note
hello, love! i hope you're doing great! i love reading your works and thank you so much for writing such beautiful pieces 🫶🏻
soooo... i was thinking of making a request! i'm not sure if you've written about this or not and please feel free to ignore it if you're uncomfortable with writing it or if you've already written it but here's the request:
satoru with newborn twin daughters 🥹
i noticed that there are almost no twin dad gojo fics and we already know that he's a girl dad. plus, i love your writing style. hence this thought. again, thank you so much for your hard work, rose! stay hydrated and have a great day! byeeee!
twin girls (and gojo ig) — gojo satoru x f!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media
a/n: i cant believe it took me like 7 months to finally post this; i am so sorry 🙏 BUT i am so so happy that you like my works and srsly thank you for your sweet words. they mean the world 🥹 hope that you like this as well! have a wonderful day!! 🫶🫶
Tumblr media
the only thing worse than having one girl you can’t say no to is having two.
add to that the fact that satoru is already a softie when it comes to his daughters, and it’s a recipe for disaster—if you’re not there to intervene.
"papa, I want a dress!" one of your twins looks up at satoru with wide, sparkling eyes, her hands tugging at the hem of his shirt.
her sister quickly chimes in, her voice a little shyer but just as determined. "I-I want a dress too, papa!"
satoru crouches down to their level, hands on his knees as he looks between his two little girls, his white hair falling messily into his eyes.
“two dresses, huh?” his voice takes on a faux-serious tone. “what kind of dresses are we talking about?”
“sparkly!”
“twirly!”
“pink!”
“blue!”
their voices rise with excitement, and satoru’s grin only grows wider as he listens, nodding as though their demands are being carefully cataloged in his mind.
you can’t help but smile from the doorway, watching the scene unfold. his enthusiasm when it comes to them is both endearing and ridiculous.
"satoru," you call out, interrupting his train of thought. your arms are crossed, and a teasing smile plays on your lips. "we agreed they only need one dress each, remember?"
he turns toward you with a playful pout, the twins following his gaze.
“they’re my princesses, wifey! how can I deny them a little extra sparkle?” he says, completely unbothered by the parental negotiations you both agreed on just yesterday.
you raise an eyebrow, taking a few steps closer and placing a hand on his arm. “you’ll be sleeping on the couch if they come home with more than one each.”
satoru's expression shifts immediately, an exaggerated look of surrender plastered on his face as he straightens up, holding up his hands. "alright, alright. one dress each. promise."
later that evening, when you return home, your twin girls are twirling around in front of you in two dresses each—one sparkly, one twirly, naturally.
your gaze falls on satoru, who stands casually leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, whistling as if he’d done nothing wrong.
“satoru,” you pout, “I thought we had an agreement.”
he gives you a cheeky grin and a shrug, completely unbothered. “they were on sale,” he says as if that justifies everything.
the girls, oblivious to your exasperation, giggle and show off their new outfits, spinning around in excitement.
"mama, look! don't we look pretty?"
"yeah, mama! we look pretty, right?"
you press your lips into a thin line, but the fondness in your eyes betrays you. you sigh and ruffle their hair, "yes, very pretty, both of you."
the girls squeal in happiness and run around the house in their excitement. your husband nudges your arm gently with a teasing smile. you quirk an eyebrow before pushing him away with a chuckle.
you can never deny that you love seeing them so happy, even if it means satoru has bent the rules—again.
of course, life with your husband and your twin girls is a whirlwind. even bedtime is an adventure (read: a battle).
one night, the girls are bouncing off the walls in their matching pajamas, their giggles filling the room as they run circles around satoru, who’s sitting at the edge of the bed, utterly failing to get them under control.
"alright, time to settle down," he says, his tone light but lacking any real authority. the girls shake their heads as their dad is simply not cut out to be the strict parent in their eyes.
however, when he opens his arms, one of the girls takes the chance to climb his lap. his hand ruffles her hair, and she hums happily .
"papa, can we have three stories tonight?" the twin on his lap asks, looking up at him with pleading eyes.
her sister, not wanting to miss out, rushes over and clings to his other arm. "no! I want four stories!"
satoru sighs dramatically, glancing over at you for backup. you are sitting like the boss you are on the loveseat in the room. you look up when you feel your husband's eyes on you.
“they only get one story,” you remind him, trying not to laugh at his predicament.
satoru looks between the two girls, their wide eyes fixed on him. “alright, alright,” he finally concedes, holding up two fingers. “two stories. that’s my final offer.”
he hears you groan, and his heart breaks at disappointing you, but he can’t just say no to them. the twins cheer as if they’ve won a war, grabbing their favorite books from the bedside table.
it takes you a few moments before you smile helplessly as you watch him negotiate with them like it’s a high-stakes sorcery mission. it's not long before your daughters fall asleep. satoru's voice has always been comfort incarnate for them.
"you’re too soft," you tease as you walk over to him, pinching his nose—he yelps as quietly as he can, so you plant a soft kiss on his temple.
he leans into your touch for a moment, closing his eyes. "can’t help it," he mutters, "they’ve got your charm.”
afternoons are no less chaotic, especially at the park, where the twins drag satoru toward the swings, their little hands gripping his fingers as they bounce excitedly.
"papa, push me higher!" one demands, already settling onto the swing.
"me too! higher!" her sister echoes, scrambling onto the swing beside her.
satoru stands behind them, cracking his knuckles.
“higher, huh? I think I can manage that.” he gives the first swing a firm push, sending one of the twins soaring up, her laughter filling the air.
you sit on the third swing, smiling at the scene.
satoru looks over at you, his grin softening as his eyes meet yours. the way their laughter fills the atmosphere fills your heart, and you can tell that satoru feels the same.
at least, until he decides to push you and make you take full 360s on the swing.
“wow, mama is swinging!”
“in a circle!”
“satoru, I will kill you!!”
"waiting for that, wifey!"
dinner, as always, is an ongoing fight. tonight, the twins are in full protest mode against their vegetables.
"I don’t like broccoli," one twin pouts, pushing her plate away.
"me neither," her sister adds, crossing her arms as if this decision has been made final.
satoru, ever their ally in mischief, leans back in his chair, his expression far too relaxed. "well, I guess no one’s eating broccoli tonight," he says, clearly enjoying this little act of rebellion.
while you're proud of your girls backing each other up, you rather it not be right now. you shoot satoru a warning glance, shaking your head with a sigh. "they need to eat their veggies, satoru."
he shrugs, smirking lazily as he glances at the twins. “they’re gojo kids. I think they’ll survive without a little broccoli.”
the twins giggle, clearly siding with him. but you know how to play this game too; otherwise, you would have never been able to handle the man child beside you. “okay, fine,” you say with a sly smile. “no dessert if they don’t eat their veggies.”
the girls’ eyes go wide in horror, and they quickly turn to their father, their last hope. “papa, no! we want dessert!”
caught between you and the twins, satoru sighs dramatically, like he’s being asked to sacrifice everything.
“alright, alright, princesses,” he concedes, hands raised in defeat. “but you’ve gotta eat the broccoli if you want dessert. we gotta listen to mama.”
the twins reluctantly pick at their plates, eyeing the broccoli with disdain, but determined to make it to dessert.
you exchange a triumphant smile with satoru, who just rolls his eyes playfully.
and in the quieter moments, when the twins are asleep, and it’s just the two of you, he wraps his arms around you, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I don’t know how you do it,” he murmurs softly. “keeping us all in line.”
you smile, leaning into his touch, “someone’s gotta make sure we don’t end up with a house full of sparkly dresses.”
satoru laughs quietly, pulling you closer. “what can I say? I’m weak when it comes to you three.”
Tumblr media
taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss@pompompurin1028@scul-pted@requiem626k@nameless-shrimp@sonder-paradise@jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author
@libbyistired @anon1412@maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1@sad-darksoul@ko-fi-heart@pumpkindudeishere@suyaaachin@babyqueen17@chaosguy352@murakami-kotone@sukun4ryomen@yumieis@hearts4itoshi@sleepyxxhead@dunixxd@sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08@spacebaby1@arabellatreaty@viscade @washeduphasbeen @janbannan @sugurubabe @enidths @mwtsxri @peppersapro @uranosbaaee @lifeisadumpie @guacam011y @kurooandkenmasslut @callmemirro
Tumblr media
copyright © tender-rosiey
do not copy or plagiarize
check out my buy me a coffee!
882 notes · View notes
gojoest · 2 days
Text
FIRST WORD — girl dad!gojo satoru
Tumblr media
girl dad satoru, established relationship (you’re married, it is indicated that you have two other kids besides the little one that appears in this drabble), nanami cameo, suggestive credits at the end (breeding hinted, just to be safe), sry this lowkey sucks + not proofread, i typed it out in 10 mins but i hope you enjoy!
satoru is trying really hard to get his little daughter to say “papa”, but oh well
Tumblr media
“come on, my life — say it”
satoru, crouched down before the baby chair where his little daughter is sitting, a picture of his face in one hand while the other alternates between pointing at the photo and then at his face, slowly repeats, over and over, with utmost perseverance and patience, the first word he wishes his little one would utter—
“pa-pa”, he carefully speaks, syllable by syllable. “pa-pa”, and again. “come on, baby — at least you don’t betray me, i know you’re papa’s girl — come on now, say it”, he pleads.
this has been going on for the past few weeks.
your entire house currently looks like the room of a teenager where it’s posters on the walls and little trinkets on the shelves, courtesy of heavy hyperfixations. but instead of posters and trinkets it’s your husband’s face, everywhere. kitchen, living room, hallways, your baby’s room — every-single-where and every-single-surface and wall has the photograph of your husband’s face on it. he even purchased custom-made plushies and toys of himself, some of which are hanging from the musical baby mobile above your daughter’s crib — but instead of music it’s his voice, teaching his toddler through made-up songs how to say ‘papa’.
“satoru, don’t you think this is a little bit, um— “, you once brought up, pausing to clear your throat, trying your best to sound softer while you say this. knowing how sensitive he is about the matter, and how devoted to have this innocuous win — “…too much? hm, love? it’s like you’re… brainwashing the baby…”
lips immediately pursed, satoru pouted under his nose — “easy for you to say, our two other kids said ‘mama’ first — effortlessly, at that. let me have this one at least”
okay, you shrugged and backed off.
and this morning, as you sipped on your coffee, you silently watched your husband in the kitchen — kneeled down before the baby chair, going about his educational routine.
after he was done with the photos, he took your daughter’s hand and pressed her fingers on his lips, while he kept repeating the word ‘papa’. he said that this method allows the baby to see the way your mouth moves as you speak but also hear and feel the sound all at the same time. (he sure has read a lot of things on the internet)
but your little one remained silent, only giggling here and there as she poked around her father’s face, completely refusing to cooperate with him despite his desperate attempts.
it is an endearing sight, really. part of you felt pity for your husband, you cannot lie. he was trying so hard, and for what...
all of a sudden,
the doorbell rings.
“i’ll take it”, you quickly pad over to open the door.
it’s nanami — dropping by with some baked treats for the kids, as he often does. your children love him a lot. during dinner gatherings he always sneaks away to read them bedtime stories. even though he doesn’t look like the type on the surface, he sure has a soft spot for children. and, truth be told, they are all naturally drawn to him as well. maybe it’s his calm demeanor and the sense of safety he brings along with his presence.
“ah, thank you — these look so delicious, i am sure the kids will die for a bite”, you chime, as you guide him into the kitchen.
“oh— nanami, it’s you”, satoru casually points out without even turning his head to greet him, his eyes glued on his little daughter… who seems to be looking elsewhere, past her father…
…at nanami.
a bit bothered by that, satoru shifts a little bit to the side, to block the view — to, once again, be the main focus in his daughter’s eyes. but, alas…
she tilts her head, googly eyes glancing at the blond man behind her father.
she opens her mouth, a giggle first escapes, and then—
“na-na—”, she pauses… “—mi” — a beam of laughter and her hands reaching forward, pointing at nanami.
silence in the kitchen befalls.
you cover your mouth with a hand, trying to prevent yourself from bursting into laughter. it’s tragic but funny at the same time, and you know — in just a few seconds the real baby in this room will not be your daughter.
“nanami”, satoru slowly stands up, shoulders hanging low and voice — monotone and stern. “get out”
p.s.: satoru makes a scene. he is absolutely devastated. you have to drag him away and pick up the pieces and calm him down. and, of course, he thinks — the only way to make things better is to give him another child. a new opportunity…and you need to get down to business, now. while nanami is babysitting downstairs.
Tumblr media
848 notes · View notes