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burningembers91 · 5 months ago

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On Display - The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to Freak of Nature

Synopsis: When you break your routine, the Salesman is forced to break his.

A/N: I'm still not sure how dark I want this to be. I mean, he's obviously certifiably insane, but I also want him to retain some likeability.

Warnings: 18+ only, The Salesman is a stalker, the MC has been crying.

Something was off. He sensed it the moment he sat down and spied the empty chair that was usually occupied by your perfect frame. You were never late, and today it was 4:08pm and you were nowhere to be seen. The muscles in his jaw tightened, his molars grinding together as his temples twitched. He didn’t like it when things didn’t go as expected. It was one of the reasons he liked you so much; you were predictable. He knew exactly where you’d be at all times, but today you’d thrown him off his schedule.

You always finished work at 3:30pm sharp. You took 15 minutes to have a catch up with your colleagues, 5 minutes to freshen up in the staff bathroom and then 10 minutes to walk from the school to the coffee house. He’d seen you through the staffroom window, had seen you smile as you spoke to your colleagues. Cursing himself, he adjusted his position on the park bench, smoothing down his grey blazer as he tried to abate his rising anger. He’d had such high hopes for you. You’d done everything exactly the way he'd wanted until today. Of course, you had no idea what it was that he wanted because you had no idea he existed, but that was the beauty of it. He could test you out from afar before deciding whether to approach you. You were so nearly perfect, but today you’d let him down.

He took another look at his watch: 4:11pm. He was a patient man, but even he had his limits. He knew you didn’t have any other plans today. The handy little tracker he’d implanted in your phone one day at the coffee house when you’d been in the bathroom gave him full access to your phone. Your diary was clear, as it always was on a weekday. So where were you? He checked again, staring at your blank calendar as seething rage consumed him. Why, why did you have to break your routine?

His hands began to shake, and he closed his eyes, taking deeps breaths as he counted to ten. Therapy hadn’t been a complete waste of time; he’d learned a few coping mechanisms to help when he felt himself losing control. There had to be an explanation for why you weren’t here. Something must have changed.

Reaching 10, he opened his eyes. And there you were. Your eyes were red, your makeup smudged with tears. You’d been crying. He’d never cried before, could never understand why people did. Nothing in life was worth crying over as far as he was concerned. But something had obviously upset you. Was it your boss? He knew from your work emails that he’d been giving you a hard time. Maybe he needed to pay the man a little visit…

He watched through the window as you dumped your belongings in your usual seat, haphazardly wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands, which only smudged your mascara more. You looked beautiful like this; so vulnerable and soft. He wondered what you sounded like when you cried, whether your sobs were soft and gentle, or whether your body wracked with the tears you shed. He hoped you weren’t an ugly crier; it would be such a shame if you were. He needed to get to the bottom of this, needed to find out who had done this to you.

Picking up his briefcase, he marched into the coffee house. He needed to be careful about how he approached you; the last thing he wanted to do was scare you off. Not after he’d worked so hard to learn everything about you. You were the next in line to order, and he slotted himself behind you with a quiet ease. This was the first time he’d been this close to you, so close he could touch you. The familiar scent of your perfume wrapped him in a comforting blanket. Of course, he’d tracked down the scent and bought himself a bottle, spraying it whenever he couldn’t be near you. You were shorter than him, as he’d expected, but perfect in absolutely every way. He chastised himself for the anger he’d felt for you earlier. Someone else had made you late, had made you cry, and whoever it was would pay.

“One latte please,” you said to the barista, your voice hoarse with tears. He clenched his fist at the sound of your voice, the usual melodic tones now scratchy and gruff. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t right at all. “Please.” He stepped forward without thinking, his default smile plastered to his face. “Let me pay.” You looked up at him, your red rimmed eyes filled with confusion. He watched you take in his appearance, watched the tip of your tongue dart out to wet your lips. He fought to control himself as he watched you, wondering how it would feel to for him to do it, to run his tongue over your lips before biting down until you moaned at him to stop.

He coughed, ridding the overly erotic image from his mind. He’d pictured you in a thousand positions, in a thousand different scenarios, but somehow the simple act of you licking your lips had put him into overdrive. He was struggling to concentrate, losing control of himself. He didn’t like to lose control.

“Thank you,” you finally said, your perfect eyes meeting his. “That’s very kind.” He smiled at you, brushing past you to pay for your coffee, adding his own order. The smell of your perfume was overwhelming, memories of long nights spent inhaling the scent he’d sprayed on his pillows as he pleasured himself to thoughts of you.

What was happening to him? He could feel his stomach dropping, feel a wave of nausea pass through him. Is this what panic felt like? “Would you like to join me?” you asked, taking your coffee from the barista. “Yes,” he managed to say, beads of sweat collecting on his forehead as he followed you and that damned perfume trail to the seat by the window. He was in over his head. He needed to get away.

“I’ve seen you before,” you said to him, as you sat down. “You like to sit on the bench.” You pointed to his usual vantage point, eyeing him curiously. “Yes,” he smiled, “I like to sit and watch the world go by.” He hadn’t realised you’d noticed him; you were always so engrossed in your work. There was that stomach dropping feeling again, but this time it was accompanied by the most delicious feeling, like his stomach was fizzing. His shirt felt too tight, his tie a little too snug around his neck. What the hell was happening to him? Was he losing his edge?

“You like to people watch?” you smiled, “so do I. It’s why I sit here. I find people fascinating.” He was trying to concentrate on what you were saying, but your mascara-streaked cheeks were such a distraction. He wanted to wipe them clean, to remove the inky black stains that spoiled your perfect skin. He wanted to lick away the tear streaks from your face, to tie you down and fuck you until the tears you cried were for him.

You watched him, maintained eye contact as you waited for him to speak. He was so lost in his thoughts that he couldn’t remember what you’d said. “You’ve been crying,” he observed instead. “Why?” You laughed nervously, wiping at your makeup-stained face. “Oh, just ex-boyfriends,” you laughed, “nothing serious.”

Nothing serious?! In all the meticulous research he’d done, there had been no mention of an ex-boyfriend. How serious had it been? Was he still in the picture? Evidently, he was, if he was still able to make you cry. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he managed to say, barely clinging to his polite persona. He wanted to tear this man apart, whoever he was. He wanted to make him feel agonising pain in every inch of his body. You were his, and his alone. He managed to maintain his composure for the rest of your chat, his mind drifting between your perfect features, thoughts of fucking you until you begged him to stop, and thoughts of ripping apart the man who had made you cry. The time was approaching 6:00pm. You’d be heading home soon, to cook some dinner and watch some Netflix, or read a book. He’d have to be content to watch you from the restaurant across the road, your figure outlined in your cream curtain against the soft glow of your lamps.

“You know,” you turned to him as you pulled your coat on, “you don’t have to watch me from the window. If you wanted to talk to me, you could just come and sit down.” You smiled slyly, and left the coffee house without a further word. Never in his life had he been left speechless. He thought he knew you, thought he had you all figured out. He’d spent months learning all there was to know about you. He knew the names of your parents, knew how much money you had in your bank account, knew the name of your first-grade teacher, but you’d blindsided him in a single sentence. You knew he’d been watching you at the coffee house. You knew and you chose to stay in that same spot and let him stare at you every day. You knew what you were doing when you sat in front of the window at 4:00pm each afternoon. You were enticing him. You wanted him to play with you. You put yourself on display for him.

As he followed you to your apartment, a good few meters apart so you didn’t catch on, he couldn’t help but smile. Maybe, just maybe, after all this time he’d finally met his match.

#squid game x you #squid game x reader #squid game 2 #squid game #the salesman #the salesman x reader #the salesman fanfic #gong yoo #the salesman x you #the salesman squid game

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eunoiaflow3r · 2 months ago

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jealousy, jealousy - harry potter x reader

requests open!!

• warning(s): fluff mostly lol, harry pov, not proofread fr

• word count: 1.2k

• request(ed): “can you please write a jealous harry potter when his girlfriend starts hanging out with cedric?”

• summary: the request lol

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Every Friday after classes, Harry, you, Ron, and Hermione would find a quiet place to watch a movie on the projector Ron had snuck in. It was a tradition the four of you had come up with after finally each falling into your respective couples. You and Harry were first - you both knew you liked each other but never said anything. After a heated argument one day in the library (mostly you were frustrated he wasn’t being safe and smart with his life after an encounter with you-know-who) and he kissed you right in the middle of your rant. You two had been together ever since. Ron and Hermione finally admitted their feelings shortly after.

Tonight, you were late. Only by a few minutes, but enough to have Harry wondering where you were and how you were doing. What he didn’t expect to see or hear was your giggling followed by a deep voice coming his way. His head turned quickly to find you walking towards the group with Cedric Diggory at your side. Harry furrowed his brows and looked to Hermione and Ron in confusion. They didn’t look as worried as he was, but still offered no kind of relieving explanation. Once you reached them, he watched as you said goodbye and walked over to lean down and kiss Harry on the cheek. Cedric waved to the group before heading forward someplace else.

Harry cleared his throat. “Erm was that Diggory over there?”

“Yeah, it was,” you start, “I ran into him and we were talking about the Transfiguration assignment before we realized we were heading the exact same way.”

“Oh, hm, alright.”

And that was the end of that. Harry didn’t press any further. He didn’t see the need and he wasn’t the type. He was just glad you were at his side now and he could enjoy the movie with you.

The next day at breakfast, Harry listened to how worried you were about passing two of your classes. He tried to tell you everything would be alright but he could hardly get a word in. He didn’t mind though. He liked listening to you even if half of it wasn’t really making any sense.

“Y/N!”

Both Harry and your head turn to the noise. It was Cedric Diggory heading your way, papers in hand.

“Hello Potter.” Cedric says smiling.

“Diggory.” He nods politely.

“Y/N, here are those notes that I promised you. I was able to find them in my things from last yea I had buried.”

“Oh my God thank you!” Harry watches you exclaim. “You’re a life saver!”

Harry rolls his eyes as Cedric walks away. He’s even more surprised when you jump out of your seat.

“I have to go study these Harry, I’ll see you later.”

Unfortunately for him, later wasn’t until the night where he was finally able to see you holed up in your room, Diggory’s notes in hand. Like the good boyfriend he is, Harry brought your favorite snacks because he knew you’d want them and wasn’t sure if you had eaten or not. You told him all about what you had learned and understood now that you had the notes, and he stroked your hair and listened until you fell asleep on his chest. For some reason, even though nothing was wrong, every time you mentioned Cedric and his oh so helpful notes there was a little ball of fire simmering in Harry’s chest. Tonight he would ignore it, but he wasn’t sure for how much longer he would be able to do that.

“Do you think this Diggory thing is weird?” Harry asks Ron during a Wizard’s Chess game the next day. You and Hermione were off in the library looking for a next good read. Harry and Ron weren’t as interested in doing that.

“What Cedric? What thing?”

“Well, I don’t know. First he walks her to us on Friday and now he’s giving her notes?”

Ron stuffs his face with toast before answering, mouth full. “Well, I don’t know, sounds innocent enough to me, she’s been really stressing about that class.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

After the match, Harry and Ron make their way to the library and see you and Hermione side by side by side looking looking at a book that was thick enough that your foot could probably break if it was accidentally dropped. Unfortunately, Cedric was right in between the two of you.

“This is amazing.” You gleam. Harry watched as you smiled ear to ear looking at the pages in front of you. It didn’t help the ball of fire that Cedric was smiling too.

“Hey guys.” Hermion says. You look up and when you spot Harry you make your way over to him.

“How was chess?” you ask as you kiss him gently on the lips.

Harry kisses you back while still keeping his eye on Cedric. He notices that Cedric’s eyes haven’t left you. “Ron won. What’s going on here?”

“Y/N and I were looking for a really good fantasy book about this Herbologist and Cedric helped us find something even better since we couldn’t find the copy we were looking for. Guess it was already checked out.”

“Hmm.” Harry says.

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

Harry shakes his head as if to say nothing.

Cedric greets the boys and then bids you all goodbye. Harry thought that still his eyes lingered on you for a little too long, but nothing in your response to him gave Harry any pause. You weren’t giving Diggory any extra attention that gave any problem but still he couldn’t quite get the flames to calm down.

Harry held your hand as he walked you to your dorm. He was quiet almost the whole time and let you talk about the book Cedric had introduced you to. To be honest, and he hated, it sounded like a really good book. And Harry hated that. He knows it’s innocent and nothing is technically wrong, but still he was upset because Cedric lately has seemed to be able to help you with so many things.

“Harry?” You ask.

“Hm?” Before he knew it you had already reached your dorm, but he was lost in thought.

“What’s wrong? Honestly this time..” You ask.

“Nothing.” He says. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Harry, you’re lying.”

Harry wanted to deny and argue, but he knew that you knew him better than that and would beat the answer out of him sooner or later.

“I just, you know, Diggory has been doing a lot for you lately and the way he was looking at you today was just..ya’know I -”

“Harry, are you jealous?”

Harry’s cheeks turned a shade of pink that made you smile.

Harry leaned into you as you cupped on of your hands onto the side of his face and the other ran through his hair.

“Harry, I only have eyes for you. You don’t ever need to worry.”

You press your lips against his and he kisses back with fervor. He liked that your lips tasted like cherries for some reason and he savored it while his hands wrapped around your waist. He got butterflies when you moaned as he gently bit your lip. He loves the feeling of you against him and he just wanted to get closer and be able to be in this moment with you forever.

“That’s good to hear.” He says when you finally break away. He could feel heat in his cheeks almost hotter than the moment the two of you just shared.

“Jealousy is not a good look on you Potter. I prefer flushed instead.”

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jawllines · 5 days ago

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“I think this is the best idea you’ve ever had in your life.” Niall answered, his voice lowered while they sat across from each other in a cafe booth. It was a relatively nice day, the weather was beautiful, so they were planning on doing something – what that would be, they weren’t sure, but they started it with lattes and croissants and discussing something that shouldn’t be discussed in public (but what’s new), “Seriously, like – and I just need to take a deep breath because you’re finally listening to me. I don’t know how to tell you this but I bought you a collar like a month ago because I knew you’d pussy out.”

Y/N’s mouth falls open, jaw loosened, “Ni, you did not!”

“I did,” he nodded, “I didn’t get the rest of all the things because I didn’t know how you’d feel about it,” he swallowed, then shook his head, “No, I’m lying, I wanted you to fully commit to the bit so I ordered everything. Leash, tail. . .I mean, fuck it, I got ears too.”

Y/N likes Harry, and that's convenient, because Harry likes her too

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

(8.4k+ words)

vi.

Y/N has never been very good at science.

Life sciences, like biology, she could figure out easily enough if there were pictures, and chemistry, she could fumble her way through after spending at least an hour screaming into her pillow about how much she didn’t want to do it. Things like physics, though, always zipped right over her head. With a limited understanding of whatever the hell Newton and Einstein were talking about also came a limited understanding of anything that may have to do with space. It was interesting, but actually learning about the concepts that shape their whole universe? Terrifying. Y/N would rather not know how big the galaxies are, because then she needs to start considering the existence of extraterrestrial life, and she feels like as soon as you go down that rabbit hole, you’re asking to get abducted.

But she does know about supernovas. Only because of a song that she really liked mentioned them, and she had to see what it was. There was a long, intricate explanation as to why they happen, but what Y/N took away from it was that they were an explosion, and it was so bright, it could outshine galaxies. Beautiful colors emerge, blues, purples, pinks, greens, oranges, impressive and intense.

Whatever is happening in her chest right now, Y/N thinks is close to a supernova. It feels just as colorful and complex. As bewitching, and as dazzling. As captivating, and as terrifying. Her heart races with it, confused, excited, overjoyed, hopelessly giddy. She probably needed a moment to sort through all the thoughts spinning around in her head, but right now, she knew she wouldn’t get one. She didn’t mind that either – not right now. Not when this is a version of Harry that she’d never been privy to. One that she’d never believed she’d ever get to witness.

Harry, from the moment he’d stepped through her door, was more vulnerable than she’d ever seen him. And she’d seen him with his cock out and everything, consumed by lust, his bare bum walking to her bathroom – all pretty vulnerable positions, she’d say. Like, he definitely wouldn’t want to be caught by a bear in that state. But this emotional vulnerability was something else entirely for such a typically emotionally guarded, closed-off person. The impassive and at times apathetic man that she had come to know had been dipped in honey and set before her. Or, better yet, maybe dipped in an acid, to erode the outer shell and reveal the honeyed center beneath.

He’d taken her to the sofa immediately, sat down across from her, his hands held out with his palms facing upward, and Y/N wasn’t sure if it’d been a silent request or a silent offering. Maybe both – she took it, no matter what it was, and slid her fingers between his own. Their hands were tight around one another's, as Harry curled his over her knuckles, his thumb stroked her where it lay.

“I wanted to apologize to you,” Harry started, measured and sure, despite the way his cheeks flamed hot and fiery with what she could only imagine was immense embarrassment. Not that she thought his reaction was anything to be embarrassed about – had roles been reversed, she probably would have cried the moment she saw him then tried to crawl up under his shirt or something. But she knew that Harry wasn’t used to expressing himself or his feelings this intensely, so she understood the nerves behind it. “I should have warned you that Maren would be there, but I wasn’t sure how. . .how to explain why I was telling you? I guess that’s the easiest way to put it. And I really didn’t think she’d be a problem – she’s always been a thorn in my ass, but she usually isn’t so pointed with her advances.” He shook his head with a soft sigh, “But that’s beside the point. You mentioned me not messaging you as much?” Y/N nodded, and Harry nodded with her, “That had nothing to do with Maren,” he explained, “I was. . .if I’m honest, I was worried that I had been too overbearing while you were out for that week.”

Y/N tilted her head, “Overbearing? I didn’t think so.” She shook her head, “You really took care of me. If you want to see overbearing, you need to meet Ni’s aunt – she checks his forehead like 5 times in the span of 10 minutes to make sure he isn’t too warm.”

A small smile wormed onto his mouth, warmed and soothed the worry off of his face, “That’s good to know,” he replied, “I suppose I got into my head too, about it all. Especially when you didn’t want to talk to me.”

With a grimace, Y/N explained herself, “Yeah, that – I didn’t handle that well, I don’t think,” she swallowed hard, “I just – um. . .like I was – I kind of thought I walked in on you two kissing?” Then she hurriedly adds, “Which is within your right to do! You aren’t not allowed to do what you want, I just didn't –” she huffed a sigh, unsure of how to articulate it beyond the easiest way, which happened to be the most humiliating, “I know we aren’t technically together or anything, but it made me jealous. I was jealous, and petty, and wanted to ignore you until I could sort myself out. I get it if the whole jealousy thing makes you uncomfortable, and like...I mean, I want to promise that it won’t happen again, but I don’t know if I can.” She swallowed even harder, chin tipped down, staring at their hands. Even just two weeks ago, Y/N would have rather worked with notoriously difficult Chhurpi cheese than tell Harry that she was jealous. To even allude to the fact that her feelings for him might be beyond what they had started this with.

But tonight, it didn’t feel so hard. It took her a while to spit it out, sure, but she still was able to get there. Part of what encouraged her was the way his hands felt against hers, the expanse of their palms pressed together so warmly that it thaws out her usually cold fingers. Another part was the blatant, and unremitted display of affection he’d doled out to her as soon as he stepped through the threshold of her flat, as if he didn’t peck her face with a hundred kisses, she’d disappear in a puff of smoke. And another – the way he was looking at her. His eyes were softened in a way she only vaguely recalls after they had sex, when she’s only a couple of minutes from passing out, pressed tightly to his side.

“When I called you the other night and you were with Youngjae, I was so jealous that I could barely see straight,” he admitted suddenly, honestly, “Surely, you realized that? I threw a fit, practically – covered you in all of those marks. Even before then, when he’d only just complimented your meal, invited you to practice under him, and I was just so mad that he’d asked right in front of me. So I took you home and I fucked you that night. Don’t you remember?”

Y/N nodded, but still, she considered his words, “I kind of figured. Or, well, at least Niall kind of figured and then told me that you were jealous.”

“Niall is smarter than he looks.”

“But I guess I just wondered what it was you even had to be jealous of? I mean, you and YoungJae are kind of carbon copies of each other, only he’s Korean!”

Harry clicked his tongue, “No,” he disagreed, “That’s not the only difference. He’s more personable, more gentle, he seems sweeter, and more patient. Adam told me you had a dedicated crying corner to go to when I yelled at you. It’s different,” he seemed stressed, remembering it, “He’s different than me, and I figured that you’d go and realize that you could learn with someone nicer, who was attractive, and probably had a crush on you.”

“A crush on me?” Y/N gaped, then sat up straighter, “What the hell? What made you think that?”

His eyes go wide, “What, you don’t think he likes you? He looked at you like you’d given him a star or something. It was so irritating.” Y/N couldn’t help it when she snorted, a giggle bubbled from her throat, and she had to slip one of her hands from his to cover her mouth, “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not!” She bit down on her lip to suppress it, but it still slipped free, “It’s just – Harry, he looks at everyone like that! He even looks at you like that – actually, he looks downright dreamy when he even thinks about you.”

Y/N has never seen Harry truly, genuinely pout until tonight. His bottom lip jutted out, and he still looked grumpy, but Y/N wanted so badly to slip her hands onto his face and pull him to her mouth. To dig her teeth into his lip and nibble and pull at it until he whines, too. She took his hand again, then chanced pulling his hand up to her face, running her cheek along his knuckles, “You’re just saying that.” He muttered.

“You’re so silly,” Y/N replied. This is such a refreshing development, she thinks. Never would she have expected this from Harry – this pouting, jealous, slightly insecure version of him that thinks she’d run off with Youngjae because he was nice to her. She doesn’t even have time to consider being mad at Niall for exposing her crying corner to Adam, because all she can think about is how upset Harry seemed that it even had to exist. There was a guilt clear on his features, but whispered between his words. Honestly, Y/N hadn’t even thought about how Harry used to yell at her for a long time. “I’m not just saying it! He didn’t give me any vibes like he might like me.”

Harry tipped his chin up and looked to the side, and wow, she wondered if she reached out and touched his ear, if it’d feel as hot as it looked, “Well, I don’t know how much I trust your detection skills, if I’m being honest.” He mumbled, “It seems like Niall has to do most of the ground work.” Still, despite a grumbled reply, he flipped his hand around so that he cradled her cheek instead, resting it against his palm.

This giddy feeling that overruns her is nice. It’s fun – she likes it, after so long of being so upset and confused and distraught. She thinks she’s finally starting to understand, though. . .that she’s finally getting it. What Niall had been seeing this entire time.

“Harry?” She inquired, and he hummed, eyes following Hazelnut as she sat across from them, and looped her tail around her bottom paws. When she doesn’t say anything to immediately follow it, Harry turned to look at her, his green eyes bright, “If I asked to see you and we didn’t have sex, and we didn’t cook something. . .would you be okay with that?”

Harry answered without hesitation, “Yes.”

“And if I. . .if I said that I only wanted you to do stuff like this with me? Sex, and…and seeing each other outside of it?” The nerves almost stop her from saying it, threatening to clog her throat.

“Then I’d tell you that it’s been like that from the start,” he replied again, immediately, “I’d tell you that you’re the only person I want to see. The only one I want to sleep with. The only person I’d like to be with.”

Y/N grinned. She scooted across the sofa to wrap her arms around his shoulders, and Harry slid his arms around her waist. It was warm — Y/N wondered when the last time they hugged like this was. If they’ve ever even hugged like this. There’s so much that they have done together, but still so much they hadn’t, and if this was them opening the door to all of that, she was more than enthusiastic.

With her chin hooked around his shoulder, Harry’s face is dipped into her throat. He takes a deep breath, then a slow exhale, “This is a lot, for me,” he told her, “I wish that you could just siphon information from my brain instead of me having to say it.”

“Ah, you might need to get used to saying it, though. I’m kind of dense – Niall says so at least.”

Somehow, they had ended up in her bed. Nothing crazy, nothing sexual, just the two of them tangled up in each other’s limbs, and for the first time, Harry falls asleep first. He had all but demanded that she let him spoon her, so she didn’t get to look at his face, but with the way his breathing had slowed and how heavy his arm felt around her waist, she knew he was resting. This is a sort of content that she seldom gets to feel and still be all in her head to truly enjoy it. Harry’s body is pressed warm against her back, he sounds sweet with little snores, and Y/N can’t help but melt into him entirely.

All the vulnerability must have tuckered him right out. Y/N smiled to herself, stretching her arm over his, her hand resting over his hand. Even in his dreams, he raises two fingers for her to curl around. Twists his fingers up in hers.

Her insides feel bright, wicked, an ebullition of colors that rival a supernova.

. . .

The thing is, Y/N feels bad.

Listen, she knows she shouldn’t! She and Harry have discussed their feelings, and they’ve communicated relatively decently about the entire situation and how to avoid it in the future. Harry only implores her that if she has an issue, she bring it to him directly, no matter how intimidating she might think he is. Whether it be work-related or not, Harry is not the type to let issues fester. He’d like to nip it in the bud immediately, as soon as possible, even if he��s the one who is upset.

So they’d discussed it, and they’d apologized for the misunderstandings, and it should be in the dust by now. Just something they had learned and grown from – something in the past.

But Y/N replays how Harry had walked into her flat, how he’d cradled her face, kissed her a thousand times, told her to never completely ice him out again. To never not speak to him, to leave him in the dark, and it’d only been a few days – barely.

She feels bad, though. He’s told her dozens of times that she shouldn’t feel bad, because it wasn’t her fault – the situation was just an incorrect interpretation of the other’s thoughts and feelings at the time. That he wasn’t upset, to stop apologizing, that if she said sorry to him one more time, he would get upset.

So she has an idea. And she takes her idea to Niall, because he hadn’t steered her wrong at this point, and he would let her know if it was stupid or not. If she would look ridiculous doing it. If she should just make him a meal or something to quell the ache in her chest.

Y/N’s mouth falls open, jaw loosened, “Ni, you did not!”

“Niall!” She exclaims, but he pulls his phone from his pocket and quickly drags up the link from an email, “How much was – why am I so shocked?”

Niall clicked his tongue. “I don’t know why you’re shocked at all, actually, I told you I was going to,” he spun the phone around, sliding it across the table, “S’crazy right? It wasn’t that pricey, consider it a birthday present. So, I’ll kind of guide you through this because I know you’ll get in your head and freak out. I was actually intensely into pet play like three years ago, so this is perfect.”

That’s how Y/N ended up here, after extensive teachings from Niall, examples, and demonstrations that make her face feel so hot it might melt off. It all led to her inviting Harry over to her flat on their day off, with a medium-sized collar around her throat that had his name stitched into it. A leash was clipped to the metal clasp at the back of it, which she looped around her wrist while she moved around so she didn’t get tangled in it. She had a set of ears clipped in neatly on her head, flopping, similar to her hair color, but stuck out enough that it was clear what they were. The most shocking of all, however, and the most time spent between her and Niall, was him teaching her how to open herself up for a plug.

He showed her how to on his Fleshlight, which looked like a bum, and he’d promised her he’d cleaned it out before he pulled it out for their “fingering-lesson” as he continued to call it. Y/N thinks that if she had said it was okay, Adam would have been on the phone guiding her as well, but she was feeling way too bashful for that. Hell, even talking about it with Niall was a lot, as he described how much lube, the depth she should start with, how many fingers, but even before that – her diet and how to clean herself out to prepare for it. Y/N doesn’t think she’d ever stared so hard at a fleshlight in her life, as she watched him spread it open, talk about the right and wrong way to do it.

So, spreading her open, a plug with a tail fixed to the end of it caressed the insides of her thighs every time she moved. It was insane, all of this, but they had talked about it before – briefly. Discussed what they wanted to do, how he wanted her to be a proper puppy, and Y/N wanted that too. She just wishes she could skip to the part where she was so cock dumb and empty-headed that she didn’t feel all the anxious, jittering nerves inside of her.

Because what if Harry was just saying that as pillow talk? What if he’d just been trying to work her and himself up, but the actual thought of it he didn’t want. Maybe they needed to sit and have a proper chat about it, before she just balls to the wall went all in and dressed like a fucking dog then invited him over to her flat. This is actually insane work, honestly, and yeah Niall is right about most things but he’s also a horny freak who typically has partners equally freaky and horny as him. She doesn’t think he’s ever not thoroughly discussed a scene before he did something new with someone either, so when Y/N had mentioned that they’d spoken about it, he probably thought she’d meant actually discussed it. Like sitting across from each other, going through hard nos, dos, and don’ts, and not when Harry was twisting a hand around his prick, and she was a hairpin trigger away from cumming untouched.

Y/N has nearly completely talked herself out of it by the time she hears her front door open and completely stills. She was sitting on her bed, feeling stupid, silly, and a ton of other negative adjectives that did not instill any confidence in her before something she probably needed a lot of confidence for. She was trembling, her stomach turning, her heart kind of felt like it might be thudding in her throat, and her blood roared through her ears when Harry called for her. First, just her name. Then, “Baby?” Which is a new development – a welcomed one, but one that gets her all fuzzy inside, no matter how many times he’d begun to casually refer to her as such.

Eventually, she hears his footsteps get further inside. The floorboards shift at the beginning of her hallway, then again right outside of her door, and his hand presses against the wood as he swings it open quietly. He probably thought she had fallen asleep waiting for him or something, which would explain why he was attempting to be so quiet. Instead, he is met with her, sitting on her knees, her hands were supposed to be in her lap per Niall’s instructions, but instead they were curled up in the blankets at her side.

Harry’s gaze falls upon hers. He blinks a couple of times, like he might be trying to adjust his eyesight to the lower lighting of the room. Or maybe he’s just trying to make sure that this wasn’t some elaborate hallucination that he’d suddenly uncovered. When he stops blinking, the image of her stops disappearing and reappearing before his eyes, and there she still stays. Did he think this was embarrassing? Maybe he was experiencing the world’s greatest second-hand embarrassment – so bad that they could put it in a world record book. Or maybe he was trying not to laugh at her. She probably looked ridiculous, didn’t she? She’d barely looked herself in the mirror once she put the ears in – just enough to make sure they were level with one another before she fucked off into the bedroom. There’s no bra, there’s no underwear – she’s stark naked, just sitting, waiting, like a dog would. Like a puppy.

“Ohhhh, I see,” his voice is careful, as he takes a step forward, “My baby isn’t here, hm? I just have a sweet little puppy instead.”

Y/N swallows hard, dipping her head down and lowering her front half against the mattress. When Harry outstretches his hand, she rubs her face into his open palm; her cheek, her nose, her mouth. It felt good, especially when he curled his fingers up in her hair and scratched gently at her hairline, caressing upward through it, to stop at the ears. There’s a soft tug, and her head jerks with it before she settles again, letting his hands explore and move around her new accessories.

It’s when his fingers dance from her head, along her human ears, down to her neck that the pads trace around the collar. He follows the border of it, the threading, slips two fingers between her throat and the leather. It’s tight–not so tight that it’ll choke her, but it’s definitely a weighty presence–one that’s hard to ignore. That must be when he sees it, though, as he strips around the material, because he pauses, he reads, his breathing hitches, and –

– he moans. Something loud, a little whiny, erupting from the back of his throat.

“Fuck,” he mumbles out, dragging his thumb along the embroidery, “Oh my fucking god.” YN lets him continue to pet her but shifts forward, nudging the back of her head against his hand. He slides his fingers to the front of the collar again, twists the thin leash around his knuckles, and gives a soft, gentle tug, “C’mon, you know better. No puppies on the bed.” He helps guide her down, on hands and knees, carefully dismounting from the mattress in the most awkward, limb-filled way she could have. Eventually, she is on the floor, the carpet digging into her nails and into her knees, her face flaming hot when she rubs her cheek against his calf, which may be more of a kitten thing than a dog thing. Niall told her that it could be interchangeable a bit, because typically, all the non-geared-up person in the dynamic cared about was that the other person was giving in to base desires and acting like an animal.

From this angle, he must be able to see the tail because another murmured curse slips from his mouth, before she feels the same gentle, prodding fingers that usually nudge at her lips, move around her bum. The rim is stretched and messy with lube, so when Harry carefully pushes into it, Y/N whines and lurches forward. Her skin is sensitive, where it’s soft and slick, and he goes from moving around the plug to letting his fingers drag through the tail, “Such a filthy fucking thing. Where did you even get toys like this?”

Y/N doesn’t answer, because she’s a dog and dogs don’t speak. She does shake her bum, though, move her hips from side to side so the tail swings and tickles the back of her thighs. It’s humiliating in a way that she can’t describe but the way Harry is looking at her, the heat that flurries through his gaze, the lump in his trousers where his cock is pressing up against the zipper. It’s worth it. It’s well worth the way part of her wants to crawl her way right under the bed and not let him pull her out until science can figure out a way to wipe her memory clean.

But it also feels. . .good. Kind of, she doesn’t know – she needs to stay like this for a little longer. To really get the feel for it. Really see how deep into puppy space she could get.

Y/N, let’s Harry guide her out of the bedroom. He leads her carefully, doesn’t tug or pull, and Y/N appreciates it. Since they weren’t able to sit down and discuss every avenue of this, she could tell that Harry was approaching it cautiously. He doesn’t just automatically start tugging her around because he doesn’t know that she’s okay with that yet. Doesn’t start spanking her and fucking her with her plug because he doesn’t know that she’d like that. Doesn’t shove her nose into his crotch and make her mouth at him wetly, because he has no clue that the thought makes her want to start drooling.

He guides her to the sofa, and when he sits down, Y/N sits pretty beside his feet. Harry pets her head like she really is a puppy, cooing at her sweetly, “Such a good girl,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to her jaw, his fingers caressing her skin, “Knows exactly how to be a good puppy already, don’t you? Might not even have to train you.” He hums, “But if my puppy wants to stop this at any time, all she has to say is Duck, okay? And if you can’t talk, then just squeeze my hand three times.”

Y/N nods and shudders, dips her face against his knee, and nudges against him. Harry chuckles, grabs a pillow off her couch, and sets it on the floor between his spread feet. Once again, he gives the leash a little pull and coaxes her with sweet words, “Knees on the pillow, Pup. Why don’t you rest your head on my thigh for a little bit?”

That’s easy enough, Y/N could do that. Niall had told her the brunt of this – what makes this all so sexy – is the complete control that Harry would have over her. If he told her to bark, then bark, if he wanted her to pant with her tongue hanging out and drool all over his cock, then she’d do it. Of course, she doesn’t think they’d get too intense tonight, because Harry is – above all else – a good, dominant partner in the dynamic. He knows when to lead and when to step back, how far to take it, and what to relax with.

So she trusts him implicitly. Even more so when his fingers press against her lips, Y/N opens them eagerly so that he can feed them into her mouth. She sucks on them, licks around his knuckles and sighs contently – it’d been a while since he’d had his fingers in her mouth like this. Y/N forgot how much she liked it; the weight of his fingers against her tongue, the scrape of her teeth along his nails, the salty taste of his skin. She likes how full she felt with only two of them in there. Even more than that, she likes that two of her holes were plugged, and wondered how it might feel to have all three of them. The thought alone makes her shiver.

They stay like this for a while. Harry turns the telly onto something, but she can’t tell if he’s really paying attention or not. Just feels him stroke the top of her head, fuck his fingers inside of her mouth every so often, stretch them against the inside of her cheeks. It’s mind-numbing in a good way, lulling her somewhere else–somewhere sweeter and softer, as the insides of her legs get sticky from how much she’s leaking down between them. Y/N had been good at first, perfectly still just sucking on his fingers, but she starts to wriggle more. Adjusting her hips, pawing at his calves as she slowly began to get restless.

Y/N doesn’t realize she’s whining until she feels her throat vibrate with it, and Harry clicks his tongue softly, “What is it, puppy?” He inquired, and Y/N’s brain is full of cotton and clouds when she looks up at him. There’s drool building up at the corner of her mouth, dribbling out of the sides that Harry drags away with his thumb, “Hm? Are you feeling needy?” He pressed down on her tongue before slipping his fingers out of her mouth entirely. Y/N whines, chasing after them, but he uses his grip on the leash to keep her in place, “You can talk, Honey. Can my dumb puppy speak?”

She opens her mouth, “Please,” her voice sounds wrecked already, “Please, I want – I need it, daddy.”

There’s a flash in his eyes that has her clench around the plug, only making her more painfully aware of how empty her pussy was. “Yeah, you need it?” Harry repeated, biting down hard enough on his lip that the flesh blanched around the indents of his teeth. She swears she saw his cock twitch in his bottoms, which were doing very little to hide how worked up he was. “Okay, baby, show daddy how much you need it, hm?” But when Y/N starts to lift her hands toward his thighs, Harry grabs for both of them, curling his fingers around each one, “Mm, no, no, Sweetheart. Remember, puppies don’t use their hands.”

Y/N nods, swallowing hard, not even worried about it. She could do it without her hands – she didn’t need them. All she needed to do was stretch forward and rub her face into his crotch, which should be more embarrassing than it feels right now. The way she buries her nose against him, breathing in deep, mewling when the pure scent of Harry slithers through her. Her mouth is wide open, tongue pressed out against the fabric of his thin linen trousers – the lavender ones that she was fond of – and soaking it around his cock. How he’d had it trapped against his body had made it hard at first, but the harder he got, the easier it was for her to find the head, to lull her tongue around it. She whimpers, brows curling, lips pursing at the tip and suckling through the fabric like it was all she knew how to do.

Her hands are slid beneath the sofa cushion, so she really wouldn’t use them, but her neck and jaw start getting a little tired from how she has to move without any support. Harry must be able to tell because he tucks his fingers around the back of the collar where it lay against her nape and pulls her away. He laughs when she whines at him, her tongue hanging from her mouth, drool spilling from her, “Wow,” he murmured, “I thought it might take a bit more to get you into a sweet little spot like this, but I forgot how easy you were for it, hm? You trust me, baby?” Y/N nodded – she trusted him more than anything, “Yeah? G’na let me make you feel good?”

Again, she nods, leaning forward when he slackens his grip and runs her tongue over his cock several times, in wet, long strokes. The fabric’s taste isn’t what she wants, though, and Harry lifts his hips and pushes the bottoms down so that his cock is out.

He’s hard. The tip is red, leaking already, and it sways a little with the motion of him pulling it free. Y/N barely waits for permission to get her mouth on him, and while she thinks on a different day, when Harry was more prepared for a scene like this – he might have scolded her. Instead, today, he just lets her do what she wants. Laughs through his nose and strokes the side of her head as she mouths out at his cock, which feels bigger right now for some reason, than it usually does. Especially when she can’t use her hands to help guide it, she just has to part her lips and chase after it. She thinks she probably looks dumb, but she doesn’t care. She wants him in her mouth – needs it, actually.

“Ah, maybe I will have to train a greedy puppy like you after all,” he hums thoughtfully as she slurps around his cock, taking him deep, deep, deep until it touches the back of her throat and it convulses around the intrusion. Y/N slips off, takes barely a breath to compose herself, then goes right back in, “But it’s your first time being my puppy for real, isn’t it? I’ll be more lenient now than I will in the future,” he murmurs and it sounds a little like a warning, when she drools over his cock, down to his balls, lapping at them. He groans, wanton and loud, needy as she was, “God – fuck, c’mon, g’na take care of you. Bet that pussy is so messy, isn’t it baby?”

There’s some maneuvering involved, but Harry ends up on the floor with her, slipping out of his trousers the rest of the way. When he pulls his top over his head and tosses it to the side, Y/N reaches out for it, grabs for it – she doesn’t know why, but she wants it near her, kind of. Lays it next to her head so she could smell him some more, and if she were more in her head, then she’d realize how very omega-like of her this was, and how prideful Niall would be if he realized she’d done this. But she’s nowhere near that level of conscious thought right now. She’s swimming somewhere so beautiful and brainless that she doesn’t even feel shy to press the fabric to her nose and breathe in deeply. Smell his cologne and his sweat from the day.

Harry’s cock twitches when he watches her, and he splits her thighs and looks between her legs. She probably is messy right now, lube and her arousal dripping all over the place. Y/N had been worked up after stretching herself open and sliding the plug in, imagining what Harry’s reaction would be to her, and how hard he might fuck her made her touch herself a little bit too. She’d only gotten to two fingers and only did enough to get herself a little more needy, so she feels deprived and restless right now.

He starts with one fingers, and when her hole sucks him in greedily, he gives her two, right down to the knuckle, “Always so ready for it. Slutty fucking pussy,” he is tentative as he preps her, and with the plug in her bum, it somehow feels more intense. There’s more pressure everywhere, so much so that three of his fingers feel like four, and four of his fingers feel like five. Still, Y/N moans, keens, whines, whimpers – does every sound but bark for him – as he splits her open. It’s so good, she feels so fucking good right now, but all she wants is his cock. Wants him to fill her up and fuck her dumb, even stupider than she is right now. Wants to drool, wants him to fuck her hard and deep, and split around him, and feel the head nudge against her g-spot. She wants to squirt on him and get him messy. She wants him to keep going even when she’s too sensitive and is wiggling away, she wants him to drag her right back to him.

Y/N starts fucking her hips down into him, her arms slung beneath her knees to keep them spread but her hips moving tirelessly. Harry places a hand on her thigh, fingers stretched wide, but he doesn’t stop her from moving. He almost seems amused by it, above anything else, his eyes watching closely, his lips curled into a smile, cooing little encouragement like, “Yeah, there we go, baby, that feels good, doesn’t it?” She nods helplessly, and he curls his fingers relentlessly as her legs tremble, getting tired, “Why don’t I give you something a little bigger, hm?”

This time, she nods as enthusiastically as she can. As soon as his fingers slip from her, she rolls onto her belly unprompted, lifts herself onto her knees, and presents herself for him. Years of omegaverse lore aid her subconsciously as she rests herself on her shoulders, reaching back and pulling herself apart to show him where she’s wet and needy for him. Nobody can ever resist that, and at the end of the day, Harry is only a man. He makes a sound kind of close to a growl behind her, cursing beneath his breath when his left hand covers hers to keep her steady, and his right hand guides his prick to her hole. Even though they both knew she was more than ready enough, Harry is still slow about sliding into her. Makes sure she feels every single inch that slides inside of her, stretches her out further. Y/N wonders if it feels tighter because of the plug inside of her. Harry does show an interest in the tail, smoothing it out of his way so that he could look at her again, where she’s stretched taut around the plug.

“Can’t stop thinking about you getting ready for me,” Harry grinds inside of her deep, and Y/N cries out, her fingers digging deeper into her flesh, “How did I find such a naughty, greedy puppy, hm? Fuck, you were made for this,” he prods at the skin around the plug, threatens to dip his thumb in too as his he slowly starts to build up a rhythm. Y/N wishes she could see him – even if she craned her neck, it would do the view no justice. She wants to watch him from the side, from the back, from between her legs – wants to see how big his cock is, how far it stretches her, how his balls slap against her with every stroke he bottoms out in.

She can feel herself drooling, and later on, she would cringe about it, and how it smears against her cheek while her face rubs against his shirt. Oh! His shirt, she’d forgotten – she slides her hands from holding herself open and curls her arms around his shirt. Presses her nose into it and breathes in so deeply, taking in every lick of Harry’s scent that she can from it. For some reason, it made Harry’s hips stutter behind her, his fingernails digging into her skin as he paused deep inside of her. Y/N whines, and he must be able to feel that she’s going to move her hips again because he tightens his grip, “No, just – fuck, just give me a minute. You almost made me cum.”

“Want it,” she whines, “Want it, want it, want it –”

Harry stretches himself across her back, slips his fingers into her mouth, and muffles her mid-beg, “Shh, dumb puppies like you don’t need to talk or think,” he groans as he slides out of her, slowly rolling his hips, wary to start where he left off right away, “God, you love being my little doggy, don’t you? You’re so fucking wet,” Y/N quivers, holding his fingers uselessly in her mouth, unable to suck or lick or bite, just pant and drool around them, “You wanna cum for, Daddy, Sweetheart? Get me all nice and sticky with it?”

His pace picks up again, the slide of it easier as he makes more space for himself inside of her. It’s much more intense with Harry pressed up against her like this, and it doubles when his fingers slip between her thighs and swirl around the swollen bud of her clit. It flicks beneath his touch, stiff and engorged, and just the press of his index and middle finger pads against it makes her cry out. The ears are flopping against her head with each thrust. Her legs want to close, but there’s no easy way to, and her back arches against him. But her mouth is full, her clit is being played with, the plug still sits inside of her and Harry rocks his hips into her like he’s trying to make sure the shape of him never leaves, hard and deep, an impression of himself in her insides.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she sounds around his fingers, and it’s muffled, a staccato sound with every collision of their hips together. Words escape her; she just feels, and she feels everything so intensely right now.

Her whole body shakes when she cums. It starts with her thighs, shaking hard, making the rest of her legs tremble, and the heat of her arousal swells into a tight balloon that expands rapidly, the latex filling out until it pops, and the warm wave of water that was inside of it flows through her. Washes over her whole body as she pulsates around him, milking him, and Harry fucks her through it, despite how difficult it gets when she squeezes so tightly around him, “Yeah, that’s it, that’s my girl,” he murmured, “I’m not g’na stop, baby, not unless you say your special word.”

Duck, Y/N remembers, or to squeeze his hand three times. Both are far away from her now though, even as she comes down from her first orgasm, she feels oversensitive as he fucks into her but not in the way where she’d need to shove him off. So she starts working her hips back against him again and Harry curses beneath his breath, then starts fucking her earnestly again.

She’s unsure for how long it goes on, or how many times she cums. She just knew that around her fourth orgasm, Harry had flipped her around so that she was facing him and had pulled her nipple into his mouth. And she knew that he had started fucking the plug in and out of her bum too, and Y/N felt a bubble in her belly that popped, forcing Harry out of her body when a swell of liquid followed his cock’s exit. He’s made her squirt before, and Y/N had wondered if it was just a one-and-done type of thing, but clearly not. It’s fully within his capability to do it, and leave her breathless, shaking, gasping.

This time, Harry isn’t able to slip back into her. He peels the condom off, slips his hand through the mess of her pussy and uses that as lube to fuck himself with. Y/N watches through lidded eyes as he strokes his cock, “Yes, yes, such a messy fucking puppy, so perfect for me,” he rambles, “So good, and fucking perfect, made for me, shit – only me,” before he starts to cum, all over her belly, in thick spurts that land heavy on the skin. Some of it even reaches her neck, and the knowledge of it makes her open her mouth, let her tongue hang out in hopes of catching more of it. None comes organically like that, but Harry does smear his fingers through the mess on her belly and feeds it into her mouth. Y/N licks it away, the taste heady and Harry, and so good because of it.

Y/N can barely move. Her muscles are kind of achy, and her head is so feather-filled she might as well be a pillow. Harry, above anything else, drops to her side and pulls her into his body, not caring about the sticky, drying cum on her skin when he pulls her into him. Rolls her over and maneuvers her limbs until she’s lying on top of him, running one of his hands up and down her back, “That was so beautiful, baby,” he says it so gently, Y/N almost wants to cry for some reason. She feels emotional and exhausted and like, maybe in love, a little bit, she doesn’t know – maybe it was just post-orgasm endorphins or maybe Harry was actually her soulmate, who could tell right then. “Did so well for me, for your first time. So perfect.”

As he is with all things, Harry is more than careful as he removes the floppy ear clips from her hair, unbuckles the collar, and slowly slips the plug out of her bum. For a moment, one of his fingers does slide around into the little gape that was left, and when she twitches and whines, he kisses the side of her head, “Sorry, Honey, couldn’t help myself,” before slipping it away, “We’ll have to play with that pretty hole too, it was getting jealous.” Y/N manages a laugh, though it’s just breathless and soundless enough to sound like a puff of air through her nose.

They stay there for a while, until Y/N feels like she can move, but even then, words haven’t come back to her yet. This was the deepest into subspace she thinks she’s ever been, but she isn’t scared of it. Y/N revels in it. With Harry there, she feels safe, and cared for, like she doesn’t need to worry about a thing at all. And she’s right, because he takes her to the shower with him and they get clean together. Harry wipes her down first, tenderly, slowly, and goes quickly for himself so that she isn’t standing there for too long. He coaxes water into her, too, at least half a bottle until she’s pulling her face away. Eventually, they find themselves in her bed, Y/N in a big shirt, her favorite band’s last album cover on the front, and Harry in one of her big shirts with a bunny on the front. He slid her underwear onto her, tucked them nicely around her hips, and then brought her up under the covers. Harry rubs her elbows and knees for a little bit, where they were rubbing against the carpet kind of hurt, and the skin was irritated. He pushes kisses to all the spots that seemed sore.

“I liked that,” she finally spoke, after what might have been 20 to 30 minutes of silence. Harry doesn’t seem startled, and she wonders if it usually took her a while to start talking anyway, “A lot.”

“Me too, Sweetheart. You play the role of a greedy puppy very well,” he rubs up and down her arm, where it’s stretched across his chest, “And you were very cute. I’ll probably touch myself to that for weeks.”

Y/N makes a noise in her throat and tips her face into his chest, “Shut up,” she grumbles, then continues, “I – um – like you a lot,” she sighed out, her lips rewarming, preparing for a ramble that she just knew was going to happen soon. Not that she had anything in particular to ramble about, except the fact that she’d seen a really pretty garden today, before she’d puppy-fied herself.

Harry, who had begun to play with her fingers, seemed delighted. “Is that so? That’s convenient, because I like you too.”

“Yeah, and we should probably plant a garden together,” she rumples her lips, “But neither of us has any yard to plant a garden, so we’d have to steal someone’s yard or something. Or buy like a little patch of dirt on someone’s property. Do you know anyone who has a yard?”

“I’m sure I could find someone,” he replies, amused, “You like gardening?”

“I’m so bad at it, actually, but you seem like you’d be good at it, so that’s why we should plant together. Are you good at planting?” Y/N feels him nuzzle his nose against her temple, “I feel like you’re good at everything.”

Harry hums, “No, m’not,” he murmured, “I’m actually not great at folding laundry.”

“Really?” She tilted her head to look at him, “Like – how?”

He shrugged, “Dunno, it always looks messy though. You haven’t seen my drawers?”

“No, was I supposed to see them? Should I be looking through your drawers?”

“If you wanted to, you could,” he offered, then immediately took it back, “Actually, no, I want you to pretend I’m good at everything still, I don’t need you to see my folding.”

Y/N laughed, then nestled close to him again, “You’re silly,” she murmurs, sighing again, letting sleep weigh heavy in her bones, “I’m glad I was delusional enough to think that you were obsessed with me.”

Harry squeezes her close.

“It’s not delusional if it’s true.”

#OMGGGGGGG #OKAAYYYYYYY #I HOPE YOU LIKE ITTTTT #REAL SMUTTY #MOSTLY SMUT HONESTLY #BUT I HOPE YOU LOVE #I LOVED WRITING THESE GUYS SO MUCH #WRITING #HARRY SMUT #WOOOOO #YAHTZEE #HARRY STYLES SMUT #OKAY YAY #LOVE YOUUUU

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reidrum · 8 months ago

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you say ‘what a mind’ | s.r.

A/N: she’s back and with fluff! (?) exams were really putting me through the ringer but i missed posting so i fixed up this draft i had, i hope you enjoy :D ive been listening to sabrina 25/8 since she dropped so hopefully song inspired fics coming soon 🤞🏽

summary: you get really excited about something new you learned and spencer gets really excited about you

wc: a short n sweet 1k

cw: none, tooth rotting fluff

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With Spencer's extensive knowledge of just about everything, you had assumed that there wasn’t much you contribute to his abundant learning.

You maybe weren’t three-PhD’s smart, but you were smart, averagely speaking. But you knew Spencer was smart, and truth be told it intimidated you. He never made you feel bad about not knowing something, ever. Anytime he gets to talk to you about anything his face lights up like the night sky.

There was, however, one time you had come home all excited to explain a concept from class that finally clicked for you. And the first person you wanted to tell was Spencer.

He watched you bound up to him with a spring in your step, bright eyed and wide cheeks as you told him, “I have to tell you about what I learned about today, it finally made sense to me. Like it felt like a real life light bulb final puzzle piece fitting type moment!”

He smiled warmly down at your eager face, “Alright angel, lay it on me.”

“Okay, I know it’s a little stupid it’s taken me this long to get it, but it’s—“

The call of your name sternly yet fondly falling from Spencer’s lips interrupts your self deprecating preamble, “Hey, we don’t do that, remember? We talked about this.”

Your rants almost always started with some self deprecating remarks, and he would always frown and try to interject and shut them down, to which you’d wave him off under the guise of, “If I stop, I’ll forget!” You were smart, but stubborn to a fault. He loved you for it, but it was hard for him to see you not understand the value you held, the value that your voice and your words and your opinions held. The value that he knew with all certainty you possessed.

A sheepish blush rises on your cheeks as you mumble, “Sorry.”

His fingers trickle closer to yours and wrap around them firmly, bringing you to sit on the couch next to him as he pulls your legs over to rest on his.

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” he says saccharinely, “We’re working on being nicer to ourselves right?”

You nod, he smiles softly back at you and continues, “Okay, tell me what you learned today.”

You start on your long explanation of the inner workings of the nervous system and its intricacies, explaining details and anecdotes that really showcase the inner workings of how your mind processes information.

Spencer can’t help but stare at you in deep fascination, complete with an awestruck smile and glimmering eyes.

He’s met hundreds of scientists, specialists, celebrities even, and listen to them talk about their research in extensive detail and with expansive knowledge. Hell, he’s had to do it himself with his three doctorates.

But as he sits in front of you, watching the person he’s most fond of on this planet watch you talk with so much speed, conviction, passion, with your hands move with purpose and excitement, he truly swears he has never been more in love with you than that moment.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask cautiously.

“You,” he moves closer, “Are so intelligent, did you know that?”

“Spencer, I’m not in the mood for jokes plea—“

“No, my love. You are brilliant,” he moves closer to be an inch away from you, placing his hands on your cheeks, “The way you process information is fascinating. When I watch you explain things to me I can see you organize it in your pretty head. It is actually mesmerizing watching you absorb knowledge the way you do. You’re like, a beautiful puzzle all undone, but by the forces of nature you’re able to put yourself together and bear the finished product to me, to anyone.”

Your eyes tear up, “Spence…what the fuck.”

He chuckles softly, “I mean it,” he holds you firmly, planting you in the roots of his belief, “What a mind you have, darling.”

It’s enough to make you tuck your head into his chest, obstructing his view from your imminent tearfall.

“You can’t just say things like that.” you mumble against the soft fabric of his shirt.

Spencer instinctively wraps his arm around your torso, letting the other hand take purchase in your hair, gently stroking it down, “Why not?” He speaks softly.

“Because…I might think you're like, in love with me or something.” You joke.

His laugh rumbles through his chest and into your rested head, “Would that be so bad?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s going to be another whole moon cycle before I have another a-ha moment like this again. I’ll have nothing to impress you with.”

Spencer smiles and sighs, squeezing you tighter against him, “You always impress me.”

You groan, “Ugh, you don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”

“You do know that you’re really smart, right?” you open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off, “You always underestimate yourself, but you’re really one of the smartest people I know. And I know a lot of smart people.”

A deep sigh leaves you, but he continues, “And you don’t have to believe me. I’ll believe it enough for the both of us. You and your brain are remarkable, so when you come to me with your a-ha moments thinking I’ll be impressed with your spark of knowledge, just know that I am impressed with you, but it’s more because I get to see you realize just how capable you are yourself.”

The calming motion of his fingers through your hair tether you back to this world, your insides fluttering about like butterflies in an open field. It was hard not to believe his words when Spencer was always so kind to you. It was always so easy for you to play it off like you didn’t deserve it.

But Spencer knew wholeheartedly that you did deserve it, that you were even entitled to it. And he’d spend the rest of his life reminding you. That, you knew for a fact.

“I love you,” you say softly, “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me angel, I love you too.” He mumbles in your head, his hand trailing down your sides in comfort.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fanfiction #dr spencer reid

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fear-is-truth · 16 days ago

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THE 5 LOVE LANGUAGES 𝔵 JASON TODD

ⓘ love language : a person's characteristic means of expressing and experiencing love. note. got covid so i wrote the majority of this in bed lol

❝ ACTS OF SERVICE ❞ ⸻⸻⸻⸻ �� ﹒

jason’s dominant expression of attachment is through action, often coded as protection. now he doesn’t articulate affection directly, but his decisions (frequently violent, morally ambiguous, or self-endangering) reveal an ingrained instinct to shield others. from early adolescence, he understood that love, if it meant anything, had to be proven with action.

under bruce, he learned to channel this drive into something more structured: protect the innocent, follow through, serve justice. jason internalised that, but filtered it through his own experiences. his ethic of care was shaped by loss, abandonment, and death. to jason, if you care about someone, you fucking do something about it. after the lazarus pit, this trait only intensified; he became more militant about protecting people he saw as his responsibility. this goes without saying that he’ll kill for you—has, and will again. notably, he may reject help from others, perceiving self-reliance as a survival mechanism. when he allows others to assist him, it signifies a very deep trust.

❝ PHYSICAL TOUCH ❞ ⸻⸻⸻⸻ ⸻

complicated. pre-trauma (pre-death), anecdotal evidence suggests jason was physically affectionate. post-resurrection though, physical touch may trigger hypervigilance or dissociation. he’s not exactly avoidant. on some deeper level, he wants it, craves it, even. but only on his terms and without surprise. if he’s letting you touch him, he’s already made a conscious choice. contact tends to trigger fight-or-flight unless it’s from someone he’s mentally filed as “safe.” even then, it takes time because he needs to assess the intent and pattern first. you’ve learned not to startle jason. when you do reach for him, he won’t always meet you halfway, but he won’t stop you either. sometimes, he’ll even lean into it, let your hand cradle his jaw or your knee press lightly against his under the table. when initiated by him, physical touch is always intentional and super rare.

❝ WORDS OF AFFIRMATION ❞ ⸻ ⸻⸻⸻

he generally distrusts verbal assurances. years of emotional inconsistency, perceived abandonment, and betrayal have rendered language hollow in his worldview. when someone tries to express affection verbally, his first instinct is suspicion. compliments may be deflected or mocked. and when he does offer verbal affection, it’s often oblique—dry humor, begrudging respect, dark jokes. moments of direct affirmation are intensely vulnerable and often framed through anger or defiance (e.g., “i never stopped caring, that’s the problem”). receiving affirmation may cause him visible discomfort, though it still registers.

❝ RECEIVING GIFTS❞ ⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

selective, but significant. the paperback you tracked down (the out-of-print edition he’d mentioned only once, in passing.) the gloves you left folded on the counter after noticing the ones he wore were splitting at the seams. jason doesn’t view objects as inherently meaningful—he doesn’t assign value to things, only to the intent behind them. he’s not effusive in return. most of what he gives is pragmatic, given without ceremony or explanation. a stun gun mysteriously appears in your bag after he walked you home one night. a second helmet on his motorbike. his hoodie folded on your bed because he’s seen you shiver in the mornings and doesn’t want you to have to ask.

when it isn’t strictly practical, it still has function. a dog-eared copy of the latest novel he read—left on your nightstand, filled with underline passages and margin notes that read like he’s talking directly to you. his gifts are silent acknowledgments: i see you. you matter to me.

❝ QUALITY TIME ❞ ⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

jason’s used to solitude. silence doesn’t unsettle him—it’s the baseline. you people either stick around or they don’t. most don’t. being around him isn’t easy, he’s aware of that too. if you choose to stay near him, you’re exposing yourself to his volatility, the sharp edge that never fully dulled. it’s not an easy choice to make.

he doesn’t require conversation. half the time, jason prefers the silence. he’s comfortable with proximity without pressure (e.g., watching crappy TV, eating takeout on a fire escape etc.)

the more time you spend with jason consistently, the more he lets down the armor. not all at once of course; but in increments. when he starts talking unprompted—thoughts he normally keeps to himself, tidbits of his past.

 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑-𝐈𝐒-𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 2025 — do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content. ꕀ

#jason todd headcanons #jason todd #dc #dc x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x you #jason todd headcanon #jason todd fanfic #batboys #dcu

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lyvhie · 16 days ago

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★ ˙ ̟ ─── . “distraction ”.

“And you know what else?” you looked at him with raised brows, your eyes glowing with excitement, happiness, and curiosity. “The Ship of Theseus.”

“The Ship of Theseus?” he repeated, a small smile dancing on his lips as he watched you.

He’d been sitting there on the couch for a while now, elbow resting on the backrest, cheek nestled in the palm of his hand, just listening to you ramble with a kind of captivated patience. In the past hour alone, he’d learned that octopuses have three hearts (each with a different function), that you shouldn’t boil water in the microwave, and that there’s a post office underwater in the Bahamas. That, and a dozen other strange little facts you’d gathered from the corners of the internet or your own imagination.

And now, somehow, you’d segued into philosophical thought experiments and “what if” hypotheticals—What if the internet shut down globally? What if black holes contained entire civilizations? What if you and he were enemies in an alternate reality? What if the person who invented ice cream… hadn’t?

No matter the topic, he loved hearing you talk. Even when you drifted into “If I were a zombie, I’d eat your brains first” territory, it was always entertaining. Time moved differently around you—faster, lighter. Especially when you were on one of your rolls, your brain and mouth fully activated, like you could talk forever.

“So here’s the thing,” you continued, eyes bright. “Theseus’s ship has thirty planks. As he travels, the planks start to rot, so he replaces them, one by one, until eventually, none of the original planks remain. So… is it still Theseus’s ship? Or is it a completely different ship?”

“Hmm, interesting question,” he hummed, pretending to ponder deeply for a few seconds before adding, “What do you think?” That was the magical sentence.

“Glad you asked!” your eyes lit up instantly, as if you’d just been waiting for the invitation to dive deeper. “We have to ask ourselves: what actually makes Theseus’s ship his ship? If we say it isn’t the same ship after replacing all the planks, then how many planks need to be changed before it becomes something else? Like, where’s the line?”

Your hands moved as you spoke, passion flooding your tone. “And think about us. Our body cells change every day. Some die, others regenerate. Does that mean we’re a completely different person over time? Or are we still ‘us’ even after all that change?”

“Hmm, difficult question,” he nodded thoughtfully, watching as you nodded back with enthusiastic agreement. “So this ties back to what you said about what makes a thing that thing, right?”

“Exactly! I’m getting there,” you giggled, visibly delighted. “So, some philosophers say that…”

He stayed quiet, listening as you rambled on, occasionally nodding or humming to show he was still with you. And he was—just not exactly in the way you'd think.

At some point during your monologue, he stopped focusing on your words and started focusing on you.

The way your brows furrowed at each contradiction, the way your smile bloomed when you hit on an idea you found satisfying, the way your hands waved through the air in wide, expressive gestures, it all captivated him. But more than that, what really got him was how free you looked. How natural. How completely yourself you were around him.

It wasn’t just about the random facts or philosophical tangents. It was the way you trusted him with every thought that passed through your mind—like you wanted to let him in on the world inside your head.

And god, he loved it.

He loved the way your eyes sparkled when you got excited, how your voice picked up speed like it couldn't wait to catch up to your thoughts. He loved the little creases that formed between your brows when you were deep in explanation, and how you'd pause only to grin when you realized he was still watching you, really watching you.

“—and that’s why some argue identity is more about continuity of function than physical components,” you continued, eyes bright, hands still moving, completely immersed in your train of thought. “But that was only one of the theories. There’s another one that…”

You trailed off when your eyes met his again.

There it was, that warm, soft gaze, like he was looking at the most precious thing in the whole world. His eyes almost pulsed, like hearts of their own, and his lips curled into an enamored smile that made your chest flutter… but also…

Yeah. That was definitely the look of someone who hadn’t heard a single word you’d said in the last five minutes.

“Hyuck… you’re not listening to me, are you?” you deadpanned, crossing your arms as you started to sulk.

He laughed, not even trying to deny it. “Yeah, I’m not.”

“At least you’re honest,” you muttered, eyebrows knitting together, a pout already forming on your lips.

“I was too distracted,” he added, and that soft tone again, like he was speaking more to himself than to you.

“You could’ve just said you weren’t interested,” you said, eyes dropping to the side, voice quiet and maybe even little wounded.

Another chuckle escaped him, even softer this time, as he scooted closer. Gently, he cupped your face, coaxing you to meet his gaze again.

"I am interested," he said, voice lower now, more sincere. "Just... more in you than in what you were saying.”

God, how he loved looking at you up close like this, close enough to take in every single detail of your pretty face, from the curve of your lips to the spark in your eyes.

“Plus, you can’t really be mad at me,” he added with a playful grin, pinching your cheeks lightly before gently squishing them between his hands. “I did listen to everything you said, up until a few minutes ago.”

He tilted his head, eyes softening again.

“I don’t know about Theseus’s ship,” he murmured, “but I do know you’ll be mine forever… no matter what parts change.”

You blinked a few times at the sudden declaration. If he was trying to make you less mad with such a ridiculous statement… well, damn it—it was working.

“That was so cheesy, oh my God,” you said, your tone lighter, a smile creeping onto your lips despite your best efforts. You didn’t look mad anymore. As stupid and over-the-top as it was, your heart was doing those annoying, giddy flips that you pretended not to notice.

He laughed, clearly pleased with himself, then leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of your lips. “What? I’m just showing you that I love you,” he said, the smirk on his face growing as he pressed another kiss, this time to your cheek.

You tried your best to hold a straight face, but the warmth of his words (and those sweet kisses) were melting away your sulk faster than you'd ever admit.

“You’re so annoying,” you muttered, a small smile betraying your attempt to sound irritated.

“And yet,” he said, stealing one more kiss, this time right on your lips, “you love me anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t pull away. “Yeah, yeah… lucky you.”

His grin only grew wider, because yeah, he was.

↝ taglist: @nebularsung, @spacejip, @peterm4rker, @sinisxtea.

#haechan x reader #donghyuck x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #donghyuck fluff #haechan fluff #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 fluff

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yugsly · 1 month ago

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People ask me the meaning behind specific things in my art, in my comics and video games. They wonder what the deep lore behind something is, why I did it. And they are so excited to learn. And I feel bad. because 90% of the time the real explanation is just "because it's funny"

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almostempty · 2 months ago

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run (marcus acacius x f!reader)

wc: 2k | other fics | rating: 18+ | ao3

summary: general acacius hunts you in the woods for ‘training’ then fucks you, duh [inspired by this post] tags/warnings: explicit, pwp, primal play, size kink, raw creampie, idk what historical accuracy means, darker marcus, no mention of lucilla

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ “It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.”

You tell yourself through hoarse breaths. Your lungs burn. Every muscle screams at you to stop. You push forward.

All you can do is run.

If it were real, you would hide. You’re smart—confident you’d outthink him.

But he’s going to catch you.

The pounding of blood in your ears nearly drowns out the steady rhythm of his footsteps, closing in. The tiny hairs on your neck raise a moment before it happens.

A hand wrenches you back.

You collide with him, shoulders slamming into his broad chest.

His barking laughter rolls across the sky as he digs his fingers into your slick, overheated skin.

“Too easy.” His voice booms, but his heavy breathing contradicts the sentiment.

“I’m sorry,” you pant, gasping in air so deep your ribs might crack.

He doesn’t release you. Instead, he studies you for a moment—assessing. Calculating.

Then, without warning—he shoves you forward.

“Run.”

You stumble, but recover fast enough to hit your stride before he comes after you again.

The purpose of this so-called training makes no sense to you. Soldiers train with weapons, endurance drills, and formations. But you are not a soldier.

Your body is not being conditioned for war—it is being conditioned for him.

Other servants have whispered about the General and his private exercises.

He led troops through heavy weapons training, cavalry drills, long marches. But privately, he had to be sharper, faster, stronger. You’d heard that he wrestled men into the dirt until they couldn’t stand again. That he trained with foreign gladiators, learning their weapons, their fighting techniques.

And that sometimes, he hunted.

That was the part you never understood. The rumors were vague, but the pattern was clear. A servant would be chosen. A beautiful one. They would be taken away for days. Weeks.

And they never returned to their old tasks.

No one dared ask what happened to them.

Some whispered it was an honor. Some believed they were given riches, sent to estates far away. Others, more cynically, assumed they were cast aside when he was done.

But you don’t feel honored. It wasn’t a choice. You were given orders.

You traveled with General Acacius into the forest, leaving his campsite and guards behind. You had just begun to think you were far enough from camp that no one would hear you scream—

That’s when he stopped you.

That’s when he finally spoke to you. Not with an explanation.

Just:

“Run.”

And now—“I’ll give you something to run from.”

The words echo in your skull. A chill streaks down your spine—so icy you shiver despite the heat licking at your skin.

Your tongue feels dry when you force yourself to ask:

“Are you going to kill me?”

His teeth flash, white against sun-bronzed skin, before he laughs again. A sharp, wicked sound.

Then the smile fades, slowly.

“No,” he says, voice dropping low. His fingers grip your chin, tilting your face up. Giving you time to absorb the hunger in his gaze.

“But the next time I catch you will be the last.”

The forest stills. Even the birds seem to quiet.

His voice drops to something darker, heavier.

“The next time I catch you, I will have my way with you. You will be mine to use. And nothing will stop me.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks, curling hot in your gut.

You should be afraid. You should fight.

Instead—your mind betrays you.

Vivid images flood in, unbidden—his body pinning you down, his strength making you helpless.

Your gaze flickers—the sheen of sweat on his chest, the muscles shifting beneath his skin, the thick veins along his forearms. The breadth of his shoulders.

You’ve heard the rumors.

You know how these hunting sessions end.

And you’ve heard that the General’s cock is as massive as his ego.

It’s a game.

It was always a game.

The ones before you played it too.

And none of them returned.

Your voice comes out steady, but just barely.

“Understood.”

His eyes narrow.

“You think this will be a reward.”

Your skin prickles at the disdain in his tone.

Before you can react—his hand is on your throat.

Not tight, not squeezing—just enough to make you feel it. His fingers press against your pulse, slowing the flow of blood. Your body reacts before your mind can.

The reality of his overwhelming strength lights a fire deep inside you.

But the last flicker of self-preservation rises, whispering a warning.

How depraved are his desires, that he must bring you here, alone, to the foot of a mountain, to chase you into the trees as the sun creeps lower and lower?

You shudder at the thought—and he sees it.

And he is satisfied.

“Run.”

You take off before he can launch you with his arms.

Adrenaline gives you an edge, but it’s not enough. Not against him. Every step you take feels too loud, your own breath deafening in your ears. You cut left, thinking you’ve outmaneuvered him—until a low chuckle reaches you from behind.

Too close.

He’s playing with you.

You clamber over obstacles, acting on pure instinct, guided by the fear of being hunted.

He crashes through everything you use to create distance, but he’s more than brute strength.

He doesn’t just chase—you feel him stalking. He lets you think you have a lead, lets you trip and scramble, and then—he’s there.

Always there.

A shadow at your back. Patient. Inevitable. Dragging out the moment before he takes you down.

You’d be embarrassed that a man so much older than you has better stamina, but this is his whole life. In peak physical condition, he trains, he fights, he wins.

And he’s coming for you.

Time means nothing as the woods grow darker. Dusk adds danger, reducing visibility, and before frustration can boil over—he’s on you.

He tackles you into the dirt with a grunt. You yelp.

You claw at the dirt, scrambling for freedom. But he’s never letting go of you now. One firm grip on your waist, and he flips you onto your back.

You kick and twist—a desperate, instinctual bid for freedom. Useless. He absorbs every struggle, every contortion of your body, and then he takes.

He lets you feel it—how much stronger he is, how little choice you have now.

He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t think. Just tears at your tunic, baring your skin to the moonlight.

He doesn’t admire. He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t need to. He grips you too hard, pins you down with the sheer force of his body. A beast. A predator. And you—his willing prey.

His mouth twitches to something like a snarl.

“Nowhere to go now.”

“I submit,” you nearly squeak.

He’s vicious, unrelenting. One hand traps your wrists overhead while his teeth graze your throat, hovering where your pulse beats loudest. Your only option is surrender—tilting your jaw to offer him more.

He marks you up, sinking his teeth into your flesh. Bruises bloom on your neck, shoulder, chest. His other hand claws at you, squeezing too hard, digging into your muscles until you cry out—a sound tangled in pain and pleasure.

Everything is amplified. The weight of him atop you. The hard ground beneath you. The low noises in his throat. The breeze in the trees.

It’s not emotional, but it’s raw. Charged. Selfish.

The way he gropes your tits—he’s not a commander of men—this is primitive. Carnal. Unrestrained.

He doesn’t care for modesty or impressions. He’s caught you, and he intends to use you. Just like he warned.

And, fuck, if he doesn’t want you bad.

His ferocity delights you, even as you writhe and arch beneath him. Knowing, at his most unfiltered, when he’s driven by lust—he wants all of you.

It clouds your mind and sends an overpowering wave of heat to your core that nearly hurts.

As if he can smell the wetness between your legs, he looses a strained hum. The sound buzzes between you, vibrating through your bones, and you squirm—all discomfort and unspent energy, feverish with need.

The thrill of the chase still courses thick in your veins as he positions you roughly on your hands and knees.

He wastes no time. His cock is out, heavy, hot. You press your thighs together instinctively, but it’s no use. His hands are relentless, forcing you open, making space for himself. He drags the thick tip along your slick folds, savoring the way you stiffen.

“Still fighting?” he murmurs. “Good.”

Then he thrusts, and whatever resistance you had is only a memory.

He works in shallow strokes at first, forcing you to stretch around the girth of him—but patience isn’t his strength. He slams in deeper, faster, splitting you open with a sharp, brutal thrust that chokes a ragged moan from your throat.

His grunts grow rougher, more strained. You don’t know if it’s ecstasy or frustration bleeding into the noises—your cunt is still gripping him too tight, refusing to let him all the way in.

You have no concern for volume, wholly enraptured by the pace he sets, each thrust pressing deeper into you.

Soon, he’s shoving his fingers into your mouth, quieting you manually, reducing you to a set of drooling holes for him to fill.

Finally, he buries himself to the hilt, and you forget how to think.

His thrusts turn severe, dragging raw cries from your throat as you push back, desperate for more.

For the first time, he hesitates, peeling off of you and sitting upright behind you. One hand yanks your hips into his lap, and you don’t slow down—can’t.

Flesh ripples from the impact as you bounce against his cock, your body finding its own rhythm, lost in the mess of heat and slick between you.

His groan is guttural. His fingers bite into your hips.

“So tight. I thought you were a virgin.” His voice is wrecked. “But you fuck yourself on my cock like a desperate whore.”

You’d be embarrassed, but he doesn’t sound—or feel—very upset.

And you can’t stop chasing the pleasure anymore.

He fills you so deep that tears spill from your eyes, sinking into the dirt beneath you. The tension builds, pulling taut, but you can’t quite break.

A desperate whimper slips from your lips.

With a mercy you don’t expect, Acacius glides a hand down your stomach, pressing hard as he finds your clit. He drags his fingers through your slick, coating them in everything he’s forced from you, teasing and rubbing in slow, precise circles.

Your body shakes, trembles, collapses.

You’re only able to pant, gasp, and moan for him.

He doesn’t stop.

If anything, he finds new ways to devastate you.

Fucking faster. Harder. Deeper.

Your mind was already gone. But somehow, he fucks you dumber—until there’s nothing left but wrecked, ruined need.

He keeps going until you break.

Your knees are raw from grinding into the dirt, your arms giving out beneath you. You’re half-collapsed, unable to hold yourself up, but he doesn’t slow down.

He wants to feel it again.

“Another.” His voice is husked, nearly feral.

“Mmm.” You can’t protest, it’s the closest you get to agreeing.

Determined, he works you up again.

Faster this time. More efficient. His fingers are ruthless, dragging another orgasm from you before you can even catch your breath.

When he finally breaks, his body locks up, muscles tensed, a snarl ripping from his throat as he spills inside you.

Hot, endless.

His weight crushes you into the earth, pinning you there as he catches his breath.

Finally, when he pulls out, his hands slide along your soft, trembling thighs. Watching.

“Poor pussy is just gaping now.” His voice is full of mockery. “So stretched out. She wastes my gift.”

You’re too far gone to respond. Fucked stupid. Boneless.

He drags his fingers between your swollen lips, stuffing his come back inside.

You move to fix your clothes—but he stops you.

“You're not done. And I'm not nearly finished.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ thank you for reading <3 pls tell me if you liked or hated any of it sign up for my new tag list here!

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld @sunshinehaze1 @lilac-boo @ohhoneypascal

#marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius #general acacius #general acacius x reader #general marcus acacius #general acacius x you #marcus acacius x you #pwp

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lowkeyren · 1 year ago

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reverse dating tropes w hsr men! (pt. 2)

in which — what the title suggests / those classic fanfic tropes but with a twist

featuring — gepard, aventurine, sunday (separately) x gn!reader

✧.* — wc: total 2.1k, downbad gepard + flirty aven + sunday is js fluff overload, wrecked my brain out for this, serval robin cameo xx, anyway pls enjoy!! reblogs r appreciated <3

boothill jing yuan blade vers here!

gepard ♡‧₊˚

"blind date" but gepard is just too shy to ask you out himself so serval does him a favour —setting you up on a date with him.

gepard clutches the bouquet of ball peonies tightly behind his back; he catches sight of you sitting on a bench, patiently waiting for him. to ease his nerves, he takes a deep breath, reassuring himself, it’s going to be alright gepard, just go over there, give them the flowers, and ask them out! surely it’s not that hard…

upon spotting him, you rise from your seat and wave eagerly in his direction. he hastens his steps, closing the distance between you. as he stands in front of you, you can see a faint blush tinting his cheeks, the rosy hue contrasting with his fair skin. he clears his throat, “ahem…sorry to keep you waiting.” revealing the bouquet behind his back, he averts his gaze downwards, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other.

you accept the flowers graciously, smiling warmly at him. “and would you please—” in that moment, his gaze flickers up to meet yours, it's the worst thing he could have done.

oh aeons… you look so beautiful. his heart races, threatening to leap out of his chest, and he finds himself at a loss for words, his mind a jumble of thoughts and emotions. “hm?” you tilt your head with a soft smile, the sound of your voice washes over him like a gentle breeze, leaving him tongue-tied. he’s sure you can see the redness spreading to his ears now.

panicking, he blurts out “—pass the flowers to my sister.” (re: go on a date with me)

his eyes widened at his own words, wait no he meant to ask you out on a date!

“ah… okay, no problem!” you reply, masking your surprise with a polite smile, quickly dismissing any lingering curiosity. though you do find it a bit odd that he would arrange a meeting just to pass on flowers to his sister, but hey perhaps as the captain of silvermane guards, he's simply too busy to visit serval himself. in any case, you admire his thoughtfulness towards his sibling.

“now tell me brother dearest, to what do i owe the pleasure of receiving ball peonies from you?” serval crosses her arm across her chest, learning against her workbench, her face deadpan, oh she’s definitely aware of what happened.

sensing her brother’s nervousness, she shakes her head teasingly. "oh, nevermind! please, spare me the explanation… you totally fumbled, and told them to give the flowers to me? really, geppie? and how long do you plan to drag this out for?"

gepard sighs as he realises there's no use in trying to deflect her sharp observation. he can only resort to his last-ditch effort now: asking serval to set you up on a date with him.

so now, you find yourself sitting at a cozy diner, waiting for your so-called “blind date” that serval has set you up on.

(“i guarantee you won’t regret it!” serval throws a playful wink at you; you give up trying to figure her underlying intentions)

suddenly, a man walks over to you, you assume that he is your date— “gepard? what are you doing here..?” gepard's cheeks flush with embarrassment as he stands before you, a sheepish smile playing at the corners of his lips. "i, uh... i’m your blind date." he admits, swallowing nervously.

you let out a soft laugh, “oh i was hoping it would be you.” you admit, your voice tinged with a hint of bashfulness.

hoping it was him? so that means you feel the same right?

needless to say, your date went well. before you part ways, you press a soft kiss to his already-burning cheeks (don’t do that again, you’re gonna break him), and you disappear into the distance, leaving behind a trail of butterflies in his stomach; he presses his hand against the spot you pecked, he thinks he might not be able to sleep for the next few nights, what you have done to the poor guy.

oh gepard, he is so deeply, utterly, in love with you.

aventurine ୨୧｡˚ ⋆

CEO playboy aventurine takes an interest in you, but you unintentionally lead him on, so he ends up falling heads over heels for you.

“meet me in my office in 5 minutes.” you immediately pause at what you’re doing, and read the message from your boss over and over again. oh gosh you’re really done for now! what did you do wrong?! your mind races as you try to recall any mistakes you’ve made recently, but nothing comes to mind…

you nervously knock on the door to aventurine’s office, feeling your palms grow clammy with sweat. a voice rings out, “ah, yes please come in.”

you step into the room, not daring to meet your boss’ gaze. “i’m here sir, as you requested. is there anything you need from me?” you suddenly find the marble floor very interesting, opting to stare at it as you anxiously wait for his reply.

aww, are they really that shy to see me? that’s cute.

aventurine’s next sentence catches you completely off guard, “so, what do you think about my new tie, hm?” he walks over to you, a smirk forming on his lips.

is this one of his stupid schemes again? aeons, this won’t work on you.

“...it's crooked. let me fix it for you.” you reach out and adjust his tie, being careful as to not accidentally choke him (even if you really want to, just because he scared the shit out of you by calling you into his office for something like this), lest you get fired.

aventurine is pleasantly taken aback by your boldness. usually those who fall victim to his flirtatious ways are quick to shower him with compliments, but your reaction is refreshingly unexpected. or perhaps you are challenging him? oh well, a little gamble never hurts, right?

it's obvious he’s taken a liking to you; for the next few weeks, he's been calling you to his office more and more frequently, to the point where you're no longer nervous to enter, as you know it’s probably nothing serious. plus, you’ve gotten used to the “strange” reasons he requests for your presence.

including the times where he made you do your work in his office, claiming that he feels lonely and needs your (it can only be you, no one else) company. or the many-times that you told him to manage his money wisely because he CANNOT be spending thousands on you.

“just a small gift for my favourite employee!” (and it's a whole ass car that costs way above your pay grade)

at this point, you're beginning to think he should hire a secretary. you subconsciously bring the idea up during one of your visits, what you didn’t expect was for him to eagerly agree with you. his eyes twinkle with amusement, “no wonder you’re my favourite, of course you’re interested in being my secretary, well lucky you! your new position begins tomorrow.”

so instead of hiring a secretary like any normal person would, he makes YOU his secretary. and hey, when did you ever express that you would like to be his secretary? this scumbag…

“oh don’t be so nervous sweetheart, just sort these out for me—” he hands you a folder of documents, his fingers deliberately brushing against yours, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “and stay here while you work on them.. want to see your pretty face.”

you think your boss is insufferable, even more so now that you’ve fallen for his charms. it's as if he enjoys playing this game of cat and mouse, keeping you on your toes with his teasing remarks and lingering touches. yet beneath the facade of annoyance, there’s something undeniably alluring about the way he looks at you, as if you're the only person in the room. well you’re not far off; you are the sole focus of his attention.

like right now, while you attempt to maintain your composure under his unmistakably, shameless, lovesick gaze; his lips curl into a mischievous smirk, “oh by the way, dinner's on me tonight. choose whatever you like." with a coy smile, you decide to tease him, “what? can’t even ask me out properly?” you quip, raising an eyebrow in faux innocence.

and later that night you find your boss on one knee, waiting at your front porch, in his hands are freshly bought flowers. his eyes immediately light up the moment you open the door, a horrified look on your face. “will you go on a date with me?” oh how he delights in your flustered expression.

“i said ask me out! not get down on one knee and propose!”

“...so will you?”

don’t worry, he knows you'll look forward to the day he proposes (you’re not even dating, yet) but for now he’ll spoil you with the most lavish meal known to mankind, not that you’re complaining about it either.

sunday ༊*·˚

not-so-accidental confession with sunday who intentionally leads you to overhear him talking about his feelings for you.

you raise your hand, ready to knock on the door, but a voice from inside halts your movement. you hesitate, your knuckles hovering just inches away from the wood, as the unexpected sound piques your curiosity.

“brother, why didn’t you tell me this before?” it’s no doubt that the soft-spoken voice belongs to robin, her tone carrying a tinge of surprise; and by the way she addresses the other person, it can't be anyone but sunday himself.

their conversation sounds tense, you think it's inappropriate to eavesdrop, but just as you were about to leave, sunday's voice catches your attention, and you freeze at the sound of your name slipping past his lips.

“—their infectious laugh, how their eyes light up with pure innocence, their unwavering passion and selflessness that knows no bounds; always putting others before themselves. how can i possibly not love them?”

your face flushes with warmth upon hearing his words, and you're unable to suppress a cough that escapes; you bring your hands to your mouth, hoping to stifle any further embarrassment.

robin chuckles, “oh brother, i understand exactly what you mean”, a genuine smile spreads across her face. “...seems like you’re expecting a guest” she raises an eyebrow knowingly, “i’ll take my leave now." with that, she gives sunday a reassuring pat on the shoulder and gracefully exits the room, shooting you a playful wink as she walks by.

uh oh… you’re totally busted

you immediately turn on your heels, trying to slip away before sunday realises you're there. but just before you can make your escape, someone grabs your wrist, holding you firmly in place. you turn around to see sunday looking down at you, his eyes flickering with emotions swirling within him.

"i swear i didn't hear anything!" you exclaim, waving your hand in front of you defensively.

“really…nothing?”

“yup! nothing at all.” you lie through your teeth, cringing at yourself.

“nothing? ...but i made sure you were there to hear everything.” a hint of disappointment evident in his voice.

“huh..?” your expression twists with confusion, a faint blush creeping up from your neck. you were meant to hear that? he just poured his heart out to his sister…about you!

sunday smiles, oh there’s no point in lying now, he knows you heard him. (as expected)

he steps closer to you, his arms caging you between the wall and himself. “you know i meant everything i said right?” a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, leaving you momentarily speechless, unsure of how to respond; you can feel your chest swelling with warmth, his wings flutter subconsciously as he awaits your response.

“y-yes…” you avert your gaze, too shy to stare into his eyes. “please, look at me…” he gently tilts your chin up, his eyes boring into yours. “i wanted to tell you that i love you, for so long” he looks vulnerable at that moment, a side he only ever shows to you; a side of him only you get to see.

“i love y—” sunday gently places his finger on your lips, silencing you. you tilt your head at his gesture, your mouth still agape. “don’t say it back yet…” moving his hand to hold your face, “allow me to take you out on a date, then tell me how you feel.” you interlace your fingers with the his that rest against your face, nodding your head in acceptance.

though sunday longs for you to utter those 3 words to him, he wants to make that moment perfect, just as you are to him. despite sunday’s intention for you to overhear him, he regrets not being able to catch your reaction to his words, so next time (re: on the date), he vows to repeat it as many times as necessary; he will do anything to fulfill your every wish.

and should you desire for him to put a ring on your finger, he will do it in a heartbeat.

✧.*

masterlist boothill jing yuan blade vers here!

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deikshen · 2 months ago

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More DILF Shen Yuan because I woke up from that mood

Shen Yuan has an ex-wife with whom he gets along well, an older daughter who is already of legal age as geeky as he is, two younger thirteen years old twin sons, and his daughter under ten years old. He is closer to fifty than forty, and apparently a traditional life with a wife and children was what was necessary for him to accept how terribly homosexual he is.

But that's okay, he supposes. Accepting his sexuality, learning to communicate better... Necessary things. His ex-wife is now his friend, his children are well raised with lots of love and patience. Shen Yuan does not consider his divorce a failure, as his brothers accuse him, just another experience. He was not happy in his marriage. Why should he remain in a place where he was not happy?

Then one day, Luo Binghe knocks on his door.

Shen Yuan looks at the haughty man dressed in xianxia robes, a sword on his back, says "fuck not today" and closes the door in his face. Luo Binghe enters anyway. Look, Shen Yuan may enjoy the habit of reading and trashing web novels... That doesn't mean he accepts web novel protagonists ending up at his doorstep! Really!!

Luo Binghe looks shocked to see him, Shizun this, Shizun that. He looks at him as if Shen Yuan in his haughty fifties with gray hair and a tired face had two heads or four arms.

Well, it's Luo Binghe. Shen Yuan knows that he has no chance to fight him. It's not even opposed to the idea of fantasy - age drains one's imagination. If Luo Binghe is there, great, damn, he really is there.

Shen Yuan takes a deep breath, scolds him for breaking his door, tells him that he's really not in the mood for games or riddles. He has to finish correcting some important files which must be delivered no later than tonight. Luo Binghe is invited to stay as long as he keeps that sword away from his children. This week they will be with their mother, but not the following week, and that is his only condition. He's not going to let the kids near that sword.

... Luo Binghe surprisingly accepts it.

In reality, Shen Yuan is concentrating on his work so as not to think that there is a xianxia protagonist inspecting every aspect of his house. By the time he submits the corrections he owes, it's not even dusk yet and Luo Binghe is sitting on the sofa in the living room, watching a historical drama that Shen Yuan sometimes watches with a look of surprise. Shen Yuan explains the plot to him a bit and when it seems that Luo Binghe is more lost than found, he actually asks him what he wants. How did he get there? Why to his house? What does he want?

Luo Binghe looks annoyed that he has to explain - as if Shen Yuan should know beforehand or just agree to Luo Binghe's demands without asking! He explains about opening portals with Xin Mo, a strange world where there was another him, a kind Shizun married to another Luo Binghe. Something about a soul exchange, tracing the soul back to... him. Luo Binghe wants that kind Shizun for himself. He wants what is rightfully his. Why would a Luo Binghe have someone like that in his life, and he wouldn't?

Shen Yuan tries to be open-minded enough. Well, it's not like there's any other explanation. Luo Binghe shows him his claws, his zuiyin, and it's clear that he really is who he says he is. Shen Yuan assumes that a version of him (different? Who came out of the closet before marrying a woman?) transmigrated and took his favorite character as a husband, even if it is from the skin of the scum villain. Well, congratulations to him. Shen Yuan wishes them all the best.

But now there is a very real, very demonic, very traumatized Luo Binghe in his living room, watching a transmigration drama, trying to understand everything. Shen Yuan feels sad for him. He definitely needs kindness, good treatment, better care. These are not things he gets in the harem! Always having to be the provider, the protector, the one who gives his all. Shen Yuan had always been annoyed by that part of the story.

Well, now he can change that, can't he?

He tells him that he is not willing to go with him. He has a very good job as an editor, his children have an arrangement to spend one week at his house and one week at their mother's house, he has a good relationship with his ex-wife. Going to another universe would complicate his life as long as he doesn't do it during his vacation season.

However, Luo Binghe is welcome to stay. Shen Yuan will be kind to him, but if Luo Binghe wants to, he must communicate about it. And he cannot talk about other worlds, demons, harem or emperors when his children are at home. Luo Binghe doesn't quite agree, but he agrees. Shen Yuan promises him that he will take a vacation and go to that world of his to meet him, but it won't be right away. Luo Binghe is a little appeased by that.

And so, a few days later, Shen Yuan picks up his children from his ex's house and tells them: "I've brought a friend to live with us for a while."

He explains to them that he comes from far away, that he doesn't know much about the city or technology, that he speaks strangely and that it can be overwhelming. But he is a good friend, he cooks exquisitely, and he will enjoy spending time with them.

(Luo Binghe would not agree to that last point.)

They are somewhat wary, a wariness that goes away when they enter a house that smells of delicious, unburned home-cooked food. After dinner, they are more willing to accept Luo Binghe into their home and their life. And Luo Binghe does his part well: he behaves pleasantly, speaks casually, does not terrify or intimidate the children, he is a functional adult... As soon as the kids go to their rooms he looks up at Shen Yuan with big puppy eyes waiting for pats on the head for being good.

Sweet Jesus. Shen Yuan is too out of the closet for this. How will he survive this Luo Binghe who just wants to be treated kindly without spoiling him and showering him with all the love he deserves?

#svsss #svsss au #svsss ideas #mxtx svsss #scum villain's self saving system #shen yuan #original luo binghe #luo bingge #bingyuan #binggeyuan #the dilf shen yuan #his kids are like: dad are you dating a 20-something?#his ex wife is a friendly npc #his oldest daughter is a geeky nightmare and i love her #luo binghe loves to be seen shopping with shen yuan #understand that there is some power in just choosing random things. then shen yuan takes out his card without asking and pays #and people look at luo binghe with some tacit understanding #luo binghe doesn't know what they understand #but he likes it #shen yuan is just waiting to finish editing the book he is working on so he can go on vacation to see PIDW monsters #he also accepts his huge attraction to luo binghe and is determined that if he makes the first move he will accept everything from him #unfortunately luo binghe is the one waiting for him to make the first move #because they are bingyuan and i can't let them communicate well all the time #how people see them: an expensively dressed silver fox dilf with a pretty twenty-something #how shen yuan sees them: a lazy old man and a demon emperor unable to be mistaken for human due to his devastating beauty #how luo binghe sees them: silvershizunsilvershizunsilvershizunsilv- oh and me

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ssweetreveries · 2 months ago

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no longer | j.jh

🎧 slow down . chase atlantic

✩ jaehyun x reader

⋆ 18+ mdni!

⋆ word count! 2.4k

oneshot, nonidol!jaehyun, afab!reader, roommate!jaehyun, dom!jaehyun, sub!reader, unprotected sex, brief breast play, dirty talk, fingering, lots of kissing, creampie, jaehyun’s a bit possessive, use of pet names (baby), porn w/ little plot…

synopsis . your boyfriend did you dirty and upon learning it your roommate can no longer hold back his desires for you.

likes, reblogs, comments are appreciated!!

author note: finally got to writing this! tbh, idk how i feel about it.. hopefully you like it!

i apologize if there is any mistakes, this isn’t proof read and english isn’t my first language. enjoy!! ><

Jaehyun's head shoots up from the kitchen when he hears the door of the apartment slam shut. You left about an hour ago, telling him you were going to a party and probably not coming home for the night. So what were you doing here?

"(Y/N?)" he calls out, as he walks towards the door.

You just give him a hum in answer as you take off your heels.

When Jaehyun comes to face with you, he feels his heart skip a beat at the sight of you in that dress. His dark eyes quickly fleeting over your features, forcing himself to look away from your curves as he reminds himself of your boyfriend. He can't help but feel a flicker of anger at the thought of him. Your boyfriend was clearly a douche, Jaehyun knows he could do so much better. He clears his throat before speaking up. "You're back early?"

"You look.. good by the way," he says, his voice dropping lower, "really good."

You feel your cheek heat up at his comment, but it's quickly replaced with frustration as you remember the reason you're back.

You were supposed to meet with your boyfriend at the party, with plans of getting laid by the end of the night. You really needed that after surviving the stressful week of finals. Seems your boyfriend also did, since you found him some room, balls deep in a random girl you don't even know the name of.

Honestly, you weren't even sad, you only dated the guy for a few months. You were mostly angry at his audacity. He practically begged you to be with him and you had to convince yourself that he was cute, just for him to pull shit like this.

"Yeah, well, the night didn't go as planned, okay?" you say, tone harsher than you intended it to be.

Jaehyun raises a brow, a bit confused. "Why? Sum' happened?"

You let out an exasperated sigh as you drop your other heel to the ground, "Let's just say I didn't expect to be single by the end of the night."

Jaehyun opens his mouth, but you offer him the explanation before he can ask. "Caught him cheating."

Jaehyun's brow furrow in anger, "Fuck, I'm sorry." He says, but he's not really sorry, that guy didn't deserve you anyways.

You wave him off and shake your head as you make your way into your shared apartment. "It doesn't matter, wasn't like I was in love with him anyways, just pissed." You rant to him, always having been comfortable with your roommate.

"Pissed?" he asks, "Not even sad?"

You shrug as you grab yourself a glass of water, "Mmh, pissed. Was expecting to at least get some dick tonight. Guess it's better like this though, fucker can't even please a woman properly."

Jaehyun's eyes darken briefly at your words. He doesn't answer, lost into his thoughts about the many ways how he could please you. And he would—but no matter how many hints he seemed to drop over the years, you never seemed to catch them, and if you did, you didn't acknowledge them.

You set the glass down on the counter, the silence getting loud. Were you too blunt? You lift your head to meet his eyes, only to find him already looking back at you, eyes dark. "Jae?"

He closes his eyes and forces himself to focus on the conversation at hand, "So you wanted to get fucked, that didn't happen, and now you're mad." He states.

When he puts it like that... "Yeah, basically." You reply.

Jaehyun swallows dryly. Fuck it, he thinks. "D'you still wanna get fucked?" he says, his deep voice thick with an emotion you can't name.

He asks it so casually, you almost choke on your own spit. I mean, there's no way your hot roommate of two years was really suggesting that, right? "What- what do you mean by that..?"

"I'm asking you," he starts, "Do you want to get fucked tonight, or not." His hands twitch at his sides, itching to touch you. The way you're looking at him—with those same eyes he'd fallen for years ago—it's making it all to hard to control himself.

"I- uh," you're too flustered by his sudden straightforwardness to say anything. Jaehyun was always a gentleman, always kind and respectful the two whole years you've been living together. Hearing something of the such coming out of his mouth, it does more to you than you'd like to admit.

This whole time, you forced yourself to bury any feelings you might feel for him. He was hot, too hot for you, and way out of your league. Or so you thought. Not to forget the fact that he was your roommate.. Yeah, you didn't want to make things awkward, but the way he was looking at you right now...

He takes a step closer to you, never breaking eye contact. "Two years," he starts.

"Two years of pretending you don't affect me the way you do. Two years of holding myself back from doing something I'd regret. Two whole years of loving you while you keep going back to those shitty guys, Y/N."

When he's finally done, his jaw tenses, fighting the urge to pull you against his chest.

You're left speechless, his words too much to take in all at once.

He takes another step closer, body almost pressing against yours as he leans in near your ear. His breath comes out ragged against your neck as he whispers, "Tell me to stop, or I won't be able to."

Your breath hitches, and you don't answer. You'd be lying if you said you didn't want to see where this would go. "Don't.." you whisper back.

Those whispered words seem to shatter whatever restraint he had left. His hands coming to grab your waist, pulling you flush against him, closing the distance between you.

"Say it again," his grip on your waist tightens as he speaks, his body tense against yours with years of pent-up longing.

"Don't stop.." You whisper more clearly this time.

When he pulls back slightly to look at your face, his dark eyes are filled with emotion—desire, jealousy, and something more?

The feeling of your body pressed against his after countless nights dreaming about this, it's too much.

"Fuck.." he rasps, voice breaking slightly as he lets his head fall against your shoulder.

His hands roam over your back, taking in your curves through the fabric of your dress.

"Not one day goes by I don't think of having you." he confesses, "Not one fucking day."

His eyes are burning with intensity as they flick between your eyes and lips. The way you're looking up at him.. it's driving him wild.

"Gonna make up for all that time now," he murmurs, hovering just above your lips. "Can I?"

You nod frantically, desperate to feel his lips on yours.

His lips crash down on yours in a searing kiss, pouring his years of longing into it. You kiss him back, loving the way his lips move against yours.

Jaehyun pulls back briefly, his breath warm on your lips, "I don't think I'll be able to stop now," he whispers.

You answer by pressing your lips against his once more. He kisses you back—this time deeper, hungrier. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip before tangling with yours in a messy kiss.

His hands slide down to grip your ass, pulling you flush against the hardness of his arousal.

When you finally break apart, he presses his forehead against yours, "You're mine," he whispers. "Starting tonight"

His mouth crashes down on yours and without warning he lifts you up effortlessly, your legs instinctively coming to wrap around his waist as he carries you towards his bedroom.

The soft press of your lips against his make his breath hitch. For a moment he just savours the sweetness of it—the way your mouth molds perfectly to his, like you were made to fit together. One of his hands come up to cradle your face as he carries you, thumb brushing your cheekbone as he depends the kiss slowly.

His fingers tangle gently in your hair, tilting your head just enough to take the kiss deeper. His tongue slides against yours in a slow, sensual dance, savouring every taste, every sigh you give him. When he finally pulls back, his breathing is a bit uneven, dark eyes hooded with desire.

His foot kicks his bedroom door open, and he wastes no time dropping you on the bed. The second your back hits the mattress, he’s on you again—lips pressing against yours in a kiss that leaves you breathless.

His hands works to rid of your clothes, fingers playing with the hem of your dress. “I need this off,” he rasps out, a tinge of desperation in his voice.

You lift up a bit, allowing him to remove the article.

His touch is desperate—hot palms skimming up your bare thighs, fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you against him. The hard length of his arousal pressing against your core through the thin fabric separating you.

“Gonna ruin anyone else for you” he promises lowly, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. “Make sure you never forget this night.”

“I won’t” you assure him, voice coming out weaker than intended.

His hands slide up your sides, calloused fingers tracing the soft skin of your stomach before moving higher—finally, finally—cupping your breasts with a small groan as his thumbs brush over your already hardened nipples.

His mouth follows his hands, mouth sealing around one perked nipple, licking and sucking hard enough to make you arch off the bed. His free hand slides down your legs, fingers pressing against your clothed heat.

He lets out a shaky breath, “Already wet for me.” he comments, voice thick with satisfaction.

His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties, yanking them down your legs with a single rough pull. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you before him—spread out beneath him, completely at his mercy.

“Perfect,” he whispers, stripping off his own shirt in one swift motion, his toned torso on full display. “Fucking perfect.”

He climbs back over you, his lips finding yours again in a deep, filthy kiss as his hand slides between your thighs, fingers teasing your slick folds.

“Gonna make you feel good,” he promises against your mouth, two fingers sliding inside your tight walls without warning, curling just right.

His thumb circles your clit as his fingers pump in and out, his dark eyes locked onto yours—watching every flicker of pleasure cross your face.

“Say your mine” he whispers, voice tinged with something you can’t exactly pinpoint, “Even if it’s just for tonight, say you’re mine”

A choked moan escapes you as your voice comes out whiny, “Y-yours,”

“Fuck—” his voice is wrecked, his cock throbbing painfully against his pants as he continues pumping you full of his fingers.

His fingers press deeper inside you, thumb pressing against your clit in tight circles. His lips crash down on yours, swallowing your whimpers as he drinks in every shudder, every twitch of your body beneath him.

His hips grind down against your thigh, letting you feel just how hard he is for you.

He spreads your legs wider apart, settling himself between them with a groan. His fingers withdraw, glistening with your arousal, and he gives your pussy a light tap before bringing them up to his lips with a satisfied smirk.

“Taste fucking perfect,” he growls, licking them clean before freeing himself, gripping his cock and giving it a slow, tortuous stroke.

Without warning, he flips you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up until you’re on your knees. Any self restraint he had left is gone, one hand coming up to grip the back of your neck, pressing your face in the mattress as his other guides his cock to your entrance.

“Gonna fuck you so deep,” he starts. “You’ll feel me for days.”

And then he’s pushing in—one brutal, unforgiving thrust—burying himself to the hilt in one go and you have to hold back a scream at the sheer size of his length. A ragged groan tears from his throat as your tight heat envelope him, tight walls fluttering around him like you were made just for him.

“Fuck—” his hips snap forwards, setting a punishing pace from the start. “So—” Another hard thrust. One of his hands coming to tangle in your hair, “Fucking—” His grip on your hair tightens, “Perfect.”

His free hand snakes around to your front, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing rough circles as he fucks into you with single-minded intensity.

“Come on my cock,” he groans, “Let me feel you squeeze me as you come undone—”

His thrusts grow erratic, his own breathing ragged as he chases his own release—but he won’t let himself go until you do. Not after waiting for so long to have you.

“That’s it—” He chokes out, feeling your walls start to flutter around him. “Come for me, baby”

And you do, coming with a muffled scream in the pillows, knuckles turning white from how tight you’re gripping the sheets.

The sight of you unravelling beneath him—your body trembling, your fingers clawing at the sheets—sends a surge of raw, possessive pride through him. His grip tightens on your hips, holding you still as he fucks you through it, his thrusts unrelenting even as you shudder around him.

His fingers dig in the soft flesh of your ass, spreading you wider as he drives into you, harder, deeper. The wet, filthy sounds of your bodies joining fill the room, mixing with your breathless whimpers and his ragged groans.

He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back as his lips find the shell of your ear.

“Gonna fill you up,” he rasps, “Can I, baby—?” his voice cracks as his hips start to stutter, his control slipping.

You whine and nod against the pillows, and that’s all it takes for Jaehyun to reach his peak.

With a final, punishing thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his release hitting him like a tidal wave. A guttural groan tears from his throat as he spills into you, his body shuttering with the force of it.

He collapses over you, his forehead pressed between your shoulder blades as he struggles to catch his breath. His fingers trace lazy patterns over your hip, his voice rough but satisfied.

“Mine…” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the sweat-slick skin of your back.

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