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lila-lou · 6 hours

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✨His true fate - Part 22/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only!, SMUTTTT, Language, age gap, fluff

Word Count: 7322

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

You bit your lip, glancing down at Jensen, who was still seated in his chair, absentmindedly rolling his fingertips around as if lost in thought. His brow furrowed slightly, and you could see the traces of tension that lingered in his features despite the banter with Misha and Jared. There was something about the way he sat there, quiet and contemplative, that tugged at your heart.

You ached to be alone with him, to feel his arms around you and to kiss him in the way you could only do behind closed doors. It wasn’t something you could do in public—not with his friends so close by and the attention that always came with being around them. You understood that there were boundaries when it came to his world, boundaries you respected, but that didn’t make the longing any less.

You knew, though, that there were still many weeks ahead of you—weeks where you and Jensen could simply be together, away from the eyes of the public, away from the teasing remarks and the protective glances. There would be quiet mornings, late-night talks, and moments when it was just the two of you. That knowledge grounded you, helped you push aside the urge to retreat somewhere private with him right now.

Jensen must have felt you looking at him because his eyes slowly lifted to meet yours. The softness there—so different from the playful teasing just a few moments ago—said everything. He gave you a small, knowing smile, his hand reaching up to gently squeeze your fingers where they rested on his shoulder. His touch was reassuring, and you knew he felt it too—the desire to be alone, but also the patience that came with the understanding of your current situation.

You smiled back at him, trying to convey through that look how much you understood. He squeezed your hand one more time before slowly standing, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist once more.

"Alright", Jensen said, his voice steady but warm, pulling himself back into the moment. "Let's go get those drinks".

Jared grinned, clapping Jensen on the back. “That’s the spirit!”.

Misha smirked, leaning toward you both. “And maybe we can find a place with a dimly lit corner where Jensen won’t feel so uptight about showing some PDA”, he teased.

Jensen rolled his eyes good-naturedly but couldn’t hide the grin tugging at his lips. “Don’t push your luck, Misha”.

The four of you headed out of the room, the tension from earlier almost forgotten as the night awaited. And while you couldn’t indulge in everything you wanted to right now, you knew that those moments with Jensen—when it was just the two of you—would come soon enough. For now, you were content with the warmth of his arm around you and the promise of what lay ahead.

A few hours and a few drinks later, the four of you found yourselves tucked away in the back corner of a dimly lit bar. The atmosphere was warm, loud enough to provide privacy but not so noisy that you couldn’t hear each other. The low lighting gave the booth a cozy, intimate feeling, even amid the bar’s hum of activity. Drinks in hand, you all relaxed into the easy rhythm of conversation, the earlier tensions long forgotten.

Misha, ever the instigator, swirled his drink and leaned back against the booth, his eyes still wide with disbelief. “I just can’t believe no one knew about this whole… arrangement”, he said, looking pointedly at Jensen, shaking his head. “You and Danneel have been doing this for how long? And not one person in our circle knew?”.

Jensen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his usual sign of discomfort when the topic veered into tricky territory. “Yeah, well, we kept it under wraps”, he said simply, his voice steady but cautious. “It wasn’t anyone’s business, you know?”.

Jared raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Wait, so all this time, while the rest of the world thought you two were the picture-perfect couple, you were…?”.

Jensen shrugged, taking a sip of his drink before continuing. “Like I said, we had an understanding. It wasn’t… what people thought it was. It worked for us. For a while”.

Misha shook his head again, clearly still processing. “So, you could just… do whatever you wanted as long as it was behind closed doors?”, he asked incredulously, his voice lowering slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

Jensen chuckled lightly, more out of discomfort than humor. “Pretty much”, he admitted.

Misha leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. “So… does Danneel know about her?”, he asked, nodding toward you with an inquisitive raise of his eyebrow.

Jensen paused, his fingers toying with the edge of his glass as he considered how to answer. He hesitated for a moment longer before mumbling, “Partly”.

You furrowed your brow at that, shifting slightly in your seat as you looked at him. You weren’t aware there had been any partial knowledge, or what that even meant in this situation. Jensen glanced at you, reading the curiosity and mild confusion in your expression.

“She knows there’s someone”, Jensen began, his voice a bit quieter now, a touch of strain beneath the casual tone. “It’s not just the same kind of… casual arrangement we’ve both had before. This is different, and she knows that much. She knows it’s not just me fooling around”.

Misha’s eyebrows shot up, his mouth opening in a knowing “ah”. He took a long sip of his drink before saying, “And that’s what’s bothering her, huh?”.

Jensen nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the table as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “Yeah, it bothers her. She always knew we were both seeing other people—it’s part of the deal—but the idea that I might actually be serious about someone… well, that’s something different for her”.

You felt a pang of realization hit you. While you knew that Jensen and Danneel’s relationship had been unconventional for a while now, you hadn’t really thought about how it might impact her to know that what he had with you was serious. It added a new layer to everything, one that was more complicated than you had anticipated.

Jared, sensing the shift in the conversation, leaned forward, his tone more thoughtful now. “So… she’s okay with the arrangement as long as it’s just casual, but now that she knows it’s not, things are getting messy?”.

Jensen nodded, letting out a small sigh. “Yeah. That pretty much sums it up”.

Misha shook his head, leaning back in his seat. “Man, that’s gotta be tough. I mean, for both of you. Knowing it’s more than just a fling changes the whole dynamic”.

Jensen’s eyes flickered over to you again, his gaze softening as he reached for your hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Jensen took a deep breath, his fingers tightening around your hand as if drawing strength from the connection. He hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing his next words before finally speaking, his voice low and filled with a weight that hadn’t been there earlier in the conversation.

“Yesterday, before I flew out here”, Jensen began, his eyes fixed on the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze for a moment. “I told Danneel that I wanted to end things… for good. Divorce”. He let out a small, bitter chuckle, shaking his head as he continued. “And… well, she didn’t take it well”.

There was a heavy silence at the table, everyone processing the gravity of what Jensen had just admitted. You could feel his tension radiating through his grip on your hand, and you shifted slightly closer to him, offering him as much comfort as you could.

Misha, always direct and curious despite the sensitivity of the subject, leaned even more forward, his voice gentler than usual. “What did she say?”, he asked, concern and a bit of hesitancy in his tone. It was clear that even Misha, usually the joker, understood the seriousness of the situation.

Jensen sighed deeply and shook his head slightly before speaking, his voice low and tinged with frustration. “She said a lot of things”, he began. “Mostly about how I was ruining everything—her life, our family, the image we’ve built together. She said I was making the biggest mistake of my life and that I’d regret it”.

He paused for a moment, swallowing hard, clearly still processing the confrontation himself. “She was angry, of course. She felt blindsided, even though we’ve been living separate lives for a while now. But the thing that really stuck with me… she didn’t talk about us or about love or anything like that. It was all about what she stood to lose”.

Jensen let out a bitter laugh. “I think that’s when it hit me—when I realized that this wasn’t about our relationship anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time. It’s about the lifestyle, the reputation…”.

Jensen exhaled deeply, as if trying to physically push away the weight of the conversation. His grip on your hand softened slightly, and he forced a small smile, his expression shifting from the earlier tension. He looked at you, then back at Misha and Jared, and gave a dismissive shrug.

"But, you know…", he mumbled, his voice lighter now, trying to brush it off. "I’ve made up my mind. I’m filing for divorce. It’s just a matter of time now. She can say what she wants, but I’m done living that way".

He ran his fingers through his hair, and for the first time in the conversation, there was a small glint of determination in his eyes, mixed with something else—maybe relief. "So now… I’m here. I’m here to have a good time, especially with you", he said, turning his full attention to you, a real smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You smiled back at him, grateful for the shift in energy. You could see the relief in his eyes as he allowed himself to focus on the present moment, on being with you and his friends, rather than the complications waiting for him back home.

Misha caught the change in tone immediately and leaned back with a grin. “That’s what I like to hear”, he said, raising his glass once again. “To a good time, then. No more heavy stuff tonight”.

Jared followed suit, raising his own glass. “Yeah, man. We’re here, you’re here, and it’s time to relax. Let’s make the most of it”.

Jensen chuckled, the sound lighter and more genuine than it had been all night. He clinked his glass against Misha’s and Jared’s before turning to you, holding your gaze for a beat longer. “Here’s to that”, he said quietly, his voice warm.

The four of you raised your glasses, the earlier weight of the conversation dissolving into the background as the mood lightened. Jensen, now more relaxed, leaned back in his.

Eventually, after a night filled with laughter and drinks, you and Jensen found yourselves back in the bathroom of your hotel room. The atmosphere was calm now, the lingering tension from the evening finally melting away. You stood in front of the mirror, gently wiping away your makeup, wearing nothing but a soft silk robe that hugged your body.

Jensen stepped into the bathroom quietly, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed above his chest. His eyes watched you with a quiet intensity, taking in the sight of you as you focused on your routine. The soft lighting of the bathroom made the scene feel intimate, the quiet hum of the night contrasting with the lively energy you’d both left behind downstairs.

You caught his reflection in the mirror, his gaze soft but filled with that undeniable spark of admiration and something deeper—something more vulnerable than what he usually let others see. You smiled softly, finishing the last of your makeup removal and placing the wipe on the counter.

“You’re staring”, you teased gently, turning to face him, your fingers lightly adjusting the silk robe tied around your waist.

Jensen chuckled softly, his arms still crossed as he shifted his weight against the doorframe. “Can you blame me?”, he asked, his voice low and warm, filled with a mix of affection and something else you couldn’t quite place.

You stepped toward him, the smooth fabric of your robe brushing against your skin with every movement. When you reached him, you placed a hand on his chest, feeling the warmth of his body beneath your palm.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”, you asked softly, looking up at him with curiosity. You could tell there was more behind his gaze tonight, something deeper lurking beneath the surface.

Jensen uncrossed his arms, one hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face as he let out a small sigh. “Just… thinking”, he said quietly, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “About tonight. About everything”.

Jensen’s hand moved gently across your back, his touch sending a warm shiver through you despite the soft tension in the air. His fingers grazed your spine lightly as if grounding himself in the moment with you. You noticed he was still dressed in his clothes from earlier in the day—jeans and a simple t-shirt that had somehow made him look effortlessly put together, even after everything the night had brought.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him through your lashes, your voice quiet and teasing. “I don’t know if I like this deep-in-thoughts Jensen”, you mumbled, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you tried to break through some of the lingering heaviness.

Jensen let out a small chuckle, his lips curving into a gentle smile as his thumb continued to trace the line of your jaw. “Yeah?”, he murmured, his voice soft. “Well, this version of me seems to show up more than I’d like lately”.

You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your fingertips, and you could tell he was still working through everything that had happened tonight—everything he’d been carrying for a while now. But even in the midst of all of that, there was a quiet intensity in the way he was looking at you, as if you were the calm in his storm.

“I think I like the relaxed Jensen better”, you teased, your fingers tracing light patterns over his chest. “The one who smiles more… laughs more”.

Jensen’s smile grew a bit wider, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll work on that”, he whispered against your skin.

His hand slipped under the loose fabric of your robe, resting on your lower back now, and he pulled you closer. You could feel the heat of his body radiating through his clothes, grounding you as you stood there in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“You know, you help with that”, he admitted, his voice still low but with a warmth that made your heart flutter. “It’s easier to let go of all the other stuff when I’m with you”.

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling at his words. “Good”, you whispered, resting your head against his chest for a moment. “Because I like seeing that side of you”.

Jensen’s arms tightened around you slightly, holding you close as the weight of everything seemed to melt away in the silence. It was just the two of you now, wrapped up in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

After a few moments, he leaned back just enough to look down at you, his gaze soft but more relaxed now. “Why don’t we change that deep-in-thoughts Jensen into something more fun?”, he suggested, his voice playful now.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking up at him. “Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?”.

Jensen’s grin turned mischievous, and with a swift but gentle movement, he scooped you up into his arms, making you let out a surprised laugh.

Jensen’s grin widened as he carried you effortlessly out of the bathroom and towards the bed. You wrapped your arms around his neck, still giggling from the sudden movement, feeling a surge of warmth spread through your chest. There was something about the way he looked at you now—playful, yet filled with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

As he laid you down gently on the bed, hovering above you, he leaned down and brushed a few soft kisses along your jawline. His breath was warm against your skin, sending a shiver through you.

“You know”, he murmured between kisses, his voice low and teasing, “earlier tonight, you said something about me… neglecting you”. He moved his lips down to your neck, his kisses feather-light and deliberate.

You felt a thrill at his words, biting your lip to suppress the smile threatening to spread across your face. “Mmm, did I now?”, you teased back, your fingers sliding into his hair, pulling him closer.

Jensen pulled back just slightly to meet your eyes, his gaze darkening with playful intensity. “Yeah, you did. You said I didn’t take my time with you. That I was too rough, too fast”, he continued, his fingers gently tracing the edge of your robe, teasing the fabric.

You could feel your heart racing at his words, your breath hitching slightly as he looked down at you with that mix of desire and affection. “Well, you were”, you teased, your voice light but carrying a challenge. “You didn’t exactly take your time earlier…”.

Jensen chuckled softly, shaking his head as he trailed his fingers down your side, leaving a heated path in their wake. “I suppose I owe you an apology then”, he murmured, leaning in closer again. “But maybe I can make it up to you… if you let me”.

You shivered under his touch, your lips parting slightly as you felt the weight of his words. He was close now, his face inches from yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

“I’m listening”, you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, anticipation buzzing between you.

Jensen’s eyes darkened with a mix of desire and mischief as he hovered just above you. His hand slid slowly from your side to your waist, fingers grazing your skin lightly, sending shivers through you. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, his voice a low, sensual murmur.

“You know”, he whispered, his breath hot against your ear, “I could take my time with you. Make sure every touch, every kiss, is exactly what you need. I want to feel you tremble beneath me, see you lose control”.

His lips traced a line down your neck, his breath warm and teasing. “I want to make you forget everything but how good it feels when I’m inside you”, he continued, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I want to draw out every moan until you’re begging for more”.

You felt your breath quicken, your body responding to his words with a mix of eagerness and anticipation. His hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your lips before leaning in to capture them in a tender kiss. It was a kiss that started slow and deep, building in intensity, just as he promised.

“You like the sound of that?”, he asked, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “I want to make sure you get exactly what you need tonight. Tell me what you want”.

You pulled Jensen closer by his neck, your fingers curling around his strong, warm skin. Your lips found his with a sense of urgency, the kiss deep and hungry as if you were both trying to make up for lost time. Jensen responded instantly, his hands moving to frame your face, his fingers tangling in your hair as he kissed you back with equal fervor.

The world outside seemed to disappear as you lost yourself in the intensity of the moment. The kisses were both tender and demanding, a blend of passion and affection that had your heart racing and your body yearning for more.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured again, his voice low and rough, brushing his lips against yours lightly as he spoke.

“I want you”, you breathed, your hands sliding down to grip his shirt, pulling him closer again. “I want you to show me exactly how you’re going to make it up to me”.

Jensen’s smile widened, a mixture of satisfaction and anticipation lighting up his face. He leaned in, capturing your lips once more, his kisses becoming more insistent and heated. His hands roamed over your body with a renewed sense of purpose.

Jensen’s kisses trailed down your neck again, each touch light and reverent. His fingers delicately traced the edges of your silk robe, gently parting the fabric as he explored the skin beneath. His breath was warm against your collarbone, causing a shiver to run through your body with the gentle contact.

As the robe fell open, Jensen took a moment to look down, his gaze sweeping over your body. Each time he saw you like this, it was as if he was seeing you anew, and his reaction was always the same—a deep, overwhelming admiration mixed with a hint of disbelief at his own fortune. His face softened as he leaned against your collarbone, his lips pressing a tender kiss there.

You pressed his head gently against your skin, guiding him closer as your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him flush against you. The closeness heightened the electric sensation of his touch, making your heart race faster.

“I need you, Jay”, you whispered, your voice trembling slightly with the depth of your desire. The words were barely audible, but they carried the weight of your need and longing.

Jensen’s breath hitched at your plea, his body responding to the urgency in your voice. He nuzzled against your neck, his hands gripping your hips with a firm, yet tender pressure. “I’m right here”, he murmured. “I’m here”.

His lips traveled from your collarbone to the hollow of your throat, his kisses growing more fervent as he continued to explore you. His hands moved to your back, drawing you closer, as if he were trying to meld himself with you.

“I’m not going anywhere”, he promised, his words mingling with his kisses, his touch both comforting and thrilling. “You have all of me, right here”.

He tilted your head slightly to access your mouth more fully, his kiss deepening, expressing the intense desire he felt for you. Every touch, every kiss was a testament to the connection between you both—a connection that was as passionate as it was profound.

You broke the kiss, your breath coming in soft, uneven bursts as you gazed up at him. With a determined look, you reached for his shirt, your fingers deftly working to undo the buttons. Each movement was filled with a mix of urgency and tenderness, as you sought to remove the barrier between you.

Jensen’s eyes never left yours, his expression a mixture of anticipation and affection. He lifted his arms to assist as you pulled the shirt free from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor beside the bed. The sight of his bare chest made your heart race even more, and you could see the same admiration and desire reflected in his eyes.

He leaned in again, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss, his hands moving to cradle your face. The warmth of his skin against yours intensified the connection between you, making every touch and kiss feel even more significant.

As the kiss deepened, Jensen’s hands roamed over your body, exploring the newfound freedom of skin against skin. His touch was gentle yet assertive, a perfect balance that made every moment feel electric.

You wrapped your legs around his hips tighter, urging him closer, feeling the heat of his body pressed against yours. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, a blend of passion and tenderness that made everything else fade away.

As Jensen’s body pressed against yours, the sensation of his hard erection rubbing against your already heated and wet core sent waves of pleasure through you. His movements were deliberate and teasing, his clothed hardness sliding against your sensitive skin.

“You feel that?”, Jensen murmured, his breath hot against your neck. He shifted his hips slightly, the friction intensifying the delicious pressure. “Can you feel how much I want you?”.

You moaned in response, the sensation making it difficult to form coherent words. Jensen’s lips pressed against your skin, his tongue flicking out to taste you as he continued to move against you. “Use your words”, he urged, his voice low and insistent. “Tell me what you’re feeling”.

The pressure of his body, combined with his teasing movements, made it hard to focus. “It feels… so good”, you managed to gasp out, your hands gripping his shoulders tighter as the pleasure built. “I can feel how much you want me”.

Jensen’s smile was almost predatory as he continued to kiss and suck on your neck, his hips pressing firmly against you. “That’s right”, he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “I want you so badly".

You bit your lip, trying to hold back your moans as his movements became more intense. “I need you”, you finally managed to say, your voice trembling with urgency. “I need you inside me”.

Jensen’s groan vibrated against your neck, echoing the growing need within you both. His hands briefly left your body, and you instantly missed his touch. He sat back, eyes locked on yours as he quickly unbuttoned his jeans.

He returned to you in a heartbeat, his movements even more purposeful now.

Jensen hovered above you, his eyes dark. The heat from his body radiated onto you, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and anticipation. He gripped himself firmly, his hand moving slowly over his length, preparing himself with a meticulous, deliberate touch that was as much for your arousal as it was for his readiness.

“You see what you do to me?”, he murmured, his voice low and husky. His eyes never left yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that made your heart flutter. Slowly, he aligned himself with you, the tip of his hardness pressing gently against you, teasing the promise of what was to come.

His other hand moved to trace the contour of your face, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness of the gesture juxtaposed with the raw, palpable desire in his movements. He leaned down, his lips barely touching yours, breathing you in, his control almost slipping but not quite.

“Tell me if you want more”, he said, his breath a warm whisper against your lips. The restraint in his voice contrasted sharply with the evident need in his body, visible in the way his muscles tensed, ready to claim the intimacy you both craved.

Jensen waited for your affirmation, the air charged with electricity, your shared breaths the only sound in the quiet room. As you nodded, whispering your consent, he gently pushed forward, enveloping himself in the warmth of your welcome.

The moment Jensen began to move, the sensation was intoxicating, each slow, deliberate thrust designed to heighten the sense of union between you. His eyes stayed locked on yours, watching every flicker of pleasure, every slight shift of emotion that crossed your face.

The rhythm he set was unhurried, allowing each sensory detail to be amplified—the slick sound of skin meeting skin, the soft bedding beneath you, the dim light casting shadows that played across Jensen’s focused expression.

His free hand never stilled; it roamed from your face down to your shoulders, tracing the line of your collarbone with a featherlight touch that caused shivers to ripple through your body. His fingers then danced downwards, circling around the delicate skin of your breasts, thumb brushing lightly over a nipple, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips.

“Does this feel good?”, Jensen whispered, his voice a mere breath as he adjusted his angle slightly, hitting a depth that made you moan in response. He took your moan as an affirmation, continuing his exploration, his movements growing incrementally more firm, more assured.

Jensen’s pace gradually built, each thrust becoming more insistent, though never losing the smooth, controlled grace that he had maintained from the beginning. The tension in your body began to coil tightly, pleasure pooling and spiraling with each pass of his body against yours.

Your hands reached up to his shoulders, nails digging slightly into his skin as a wave of intensity washed over you. He responded to the slight pain with a deep groan, his own control beginning to fray at the edges as he felt your body responding so viscerally to his.

“Look at me”, he commanded gently, and you fixed your eyes on his.

As the intensity of your movements grew, Jensen's breath became heavier, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He leaned closer, his lips just a whisper away from yours, his gaze never leaving your eyes. "Tell me you feel me", he murmured, each word punctuated by a deep, purposeful stroke that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you.

"I feel you", you gasped. "Every inch".

Jensen's smile was both triumphant and hungry. "Good", he replied, his voice thick with arousal. "Because every part of me is yours tonight". His hand slid from your breast down to where your bodies joined, his fingers expertly teasing, heightening the sensation that pulsed through you both.

"You're close, aren't you?", he coaxed, his movements becoming even more targeted, designed to push you over the edge. "Let go for me".

Your response was a moan, high and needy, and it seemed to drive him even more. Jensen’s thrusts quickened, his fingers moved with precision, and his eyes burned into yours, intent on witnessing every moment of your surrender.

"Come for me", Jensen commanded, his voice a seductive growl that vibrated through your core. "Show me how much you need me".

The room spun as you clung to his words, your climax building rapidly. With a few more calculated movements, you felt the dam break, waves of intense pleasure rolling over you in a relentless tide, leaving you breathless and quivering. Jensen followed close behind, his own release overtaking him as he buried his face against your neck, his body tensing, then shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

As you both caught your breath, Jensen’s kisses became softer, more tender, tracing a line along your jaw as he whispered, "Perfect, just like always". His words wrapped around you, just as his arms did, holding you in a gentle.

As Jensen's lips found your neck again, softly sucking at the tender skin, you felt every residual pulse from him—a quiet aftershock of the intensity you'd both shared. Your fingers curled into his hair, tugging gently, encouraging his gentle exploration.

He chuckled softly, the vibration against your skin sending a shiver down your spine. His body still joined with yours, he felt every subtle clench of your body around him, even as he softened.

"You're making it hard to stop", Jensen murmured, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. "Literally", he added with a mischievous grin, feeling a reactive twitch that contradicted his earlier softening.

Your laughter mingled with his, the sound light and full of warmth. "Maybe I don't want you to stop", you whispered back, playful yet sincere, drawing him in for another deep, lingering kiss.

His hips shifting slightly in a slow, teasing motion that suggested the evening was far from over. "Then we won't", Jensen said, his words a promise as his gaze locked onto yours with renewed desire and a hint of challenge. "We'll keep going as long as you can take it".

With a mischievous twinkle in your eye, you arched an eyebrow. “Can you get hard for me again?”, you teased, a smirk playing at your lips, challenging him with a tone laced with both amusement and desire.

Jensen’s eyes darkened as his pride kicked in. He gave a low, confident laugh. “You really want to test me?”, he replied, his voice a mix of amusement and arousal. He shifted again, aligning his body more closely with yours, his expression turning determined.

With a slight thrust, he repositioned himself, his hands roaming to caress the curves of your body, rekindling the fire that had barely simmered down. “Watch me”, he whispered huskily, leaning in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss that spoke volumes of his intent.

His kisses trailed down your neck, each touch lingering longer, more provocatively, as if he were painting an invisible trail with his lips. His hands were equally persuasive, stroking and teasing, building the anticipation between you.

You felt him responding to your provocations, the physical proof of his arousal growing once again. His breath caught slightly as he felt the change, a grin spreading across his face. “Looks like I’m up for the challenge”, Jensen murmured against your skin, a hint of victory in his voice.

He pressed his hips deliberately against yours, his hardness unmistakable as he made his point clear. The firm contact made you moan softly, the sound a mixture of surprise and pleasure that fueled his confidence further.

“I think that proves it”, he teased, his voice low and husky, thrilled by your reaction. He maintained the pressure, moving his hips in a slow, grinding motion that had you gasping, each movement precise and calculated to remind you of his physical capabilities.

“Does that feel good?”, Jensen asked, a rhetorical question wrapped in a growl, as he adjusted his angle to press even more insistently against you.

Your hands clung to his back, nails pressing into his skin as a way to anchor yourself against the wave of sensations he was expertly drawing out of you. “Jensen”, you managed to utter, your voice breathy and laden with desire, urging him on without needing to say much more.

Jensen’s grin grew even more knowing as he heard the breathy urgency in your voice. With deliberate intent, he reached for the headboard of the bed, gripping it tightly as his muscles tensed.

He slowly withdrew from you, each inch of separation heightening the anticipation between you. The moment he pulled back, you felt a pang of longing, an almost unbearable need for his full presence. Jensen seemed to savor the sensation of you clenching around him, your body craving the return of his depth.

Without warning, he thrust back into you, but this time it was with a single, slow, and incredibly deep movement. The depth of his penetration was thorough, stretching you to the limit and causing a gasp to escape your lips as you felt every inch of him inside you. His eyes were fixed on yours, watching the transformation of your pleasure with an intense focus.

The sensation was overwhelming, a potent mix of fullness and the slow burn of pleasure that seemed to stretch every second into an eternity. Jensen’s grip on the headboard was tight, his breathing heavy.

“Feel that?”, he murmured, his voice a low growl, both intimate and commanding.

Jensen’s slow, deep thrusts continued, each movement sending ripples of pleasure through your entire being. The depth of his penetration and the deliberate pace had you gasping and moaning breathlessly, the sensations so intense that you could barely contain them.

With every thrust, you felt him stretch you, each push hitting the very core of your pleasure. The combination of his steady rhythm and the overwhelming fullness made you clench around him, the intensity of the moment causing you to curse softly in a mix of pleasure and frustration.

“Fuck, Jensen”, you breathed out, your voice strained and desperate. Your fingers gripped the sheets tightly, knuckles whitening as you anchored yourself against the relentless waves of sensation he was drawing from you.

He kept his eyes locked on you, taking in every reaction, every shiver of your body as he continued his deliberate pace. “I want to hear you”, he urged, his voice rough with desire. “Let me know how good it feels”.

His command only intensified your moans, each sound a testament to the overwhelming pleasure he was providing. You could feel yourself getting closer to a breaking point, the pressure building with each slow, deep stroke.

Jensen seemed to sense your rising climax, his movements becoming even more controlled and calculated, ensuring that every thrust was exactly what you needed to reach the peak of your desire.

"Let me hear you", Jensen demanded, his tone insistent. "Louder".

His words were a direct challenge, stoking the fire of your arousal. With each deeper, faster thrust, you couldn't help but respond. Your moans grew louder, filling the room, a mix of pleasure and the sheer intensity of the sensations cascading through you.

Jensen's hands moved from the headboard to your hips, gripping them tightly as he adjusted the angle, aiming to deepen his thrusts even further. The new position hit just the right spot, sending sparks of pleasure zipping through your nerves. Your back arched off the bed in response, pushing against him, seeking more.

"That's it", he growled approvingly, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at your vocal response.

The room echoed with the sound of your combined moans and the rhythmic creaking of the bed. Jensen's control was impeccable, managing to balance on the edge of his own release while focusing entirely on your experience. His every move, every sound, and every touch was designed to bring you both to a powerful climax together.

“Come on”, Jensen urged, his voice low and gritty with desire. “I want to hear you scream for me”.

You could barely manage a coherent response, your voice a breathy, desperate mix of moans and gasps. “Jensen, I’m… so close”, you managed to plead, your body arching in response to each powerful thrust.

“Good”, he growled, his voice rough as he pushed deeper. “Let go for me. Show me how much you need me”.

The pressure in your core built rapidly, each of his movements pushing you closer to the brink. The relentless pace and the intensity of his touch were overwhelming, your climax imminent.

“Tell me how bad you want it”, Jensen demanded, his voice a harsh whisper against your ear.

“I want it so fucking bad”, you cried out, your voice cracking with the force of your release.

With a final, powerful thrust, both of you reached the peak simultaneously. Jensen’s groan was deep and primal, a sound of raw satisfaction as he felt your body convulse around him. Your own climax hit with explosive force, your cries of pleasure mingling with his as you both succumbed to the overwhelming wave of ecstasy.

After the climaxes subsided, Jensen’s breathing gradually slowed, though the intensity of the moment still lingered in the room. He pulled you closer, his touch now gentle and affectionate as he began to catch his breath. His gaze was both amused and satisfied as he looked at you, a playful smirk forming on his lips.

“Funny”, Jensen murmured after a while, his voice low and teasing, “you were complaining about me being too rough earlier”. His fingers lightly traced along your damp skin, a contrast to the roughness you’d experienced moments before.

You looked at him, still catching your breath, your face flushed but smiling. “You were”, you replied, though there was no real annoyance in your tone, just the lingering thrill of pleasure.

Jensen’s smirk widened further. “Yet here you are, coming the hardest when I fuck you exactly like that”, he teased, his voice a warm rumble that seemed to vibrate directly into your heart.

The comment made your cheeks heat up even more, a deep blush spreading across your face. In a playful attempt to hide your embarrassment, you covered your face with both hands.

Jensen’s eyes softened with a mix of adoration and amusement as he watched your cheeks flush deeply. He gently took your hands away from your face, his touch tender despite the teasing nature of his words.

“That’s exactly what I adore about you”, he murmured. “You can be so innocent and still such a dirty little mess at the same time”.

Jensen noticed the subtle changes in your body as you responded to his words—your breath catching, your body tensing slightly. The faint but unmistakable clench around him drew a deeper grin, his eyes darkening with renewed desire.

“Like that, huh?”, he teased, his voice a silky whisper that made the air between you crackle. He shifted slightly, adjusting his position to maintain the delicious pressure that elicited such an honest reaction from you. “You can’t hide how much you love this, can you?”. Jensen’s tone was both cocky and warm, a combination that made his teasing all the more intoxicating.

You could only nod, your breathing heavy, as every word he spoke seemed to resonate through you, deepening your arousal. Jensen’s hands moved from your face, tracing down your neck, over your shoulders, and along the sensitive skin of your sides, his touch light but deliberate, designed to tease and provoke.

He leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath mingling with your own.

"You're something else", Jensen murmured, his lips brushing against yours with each word, barely touching yet sending shivers down your spine. His voice was a blend of wonder and desire, thick with emotion that resonated deeply within you.

His gaze held yours, intense and unyielding, as he paused to study your reaction, seeming to relish the slight quiver of your lips and the quick rise and fall of your chest. His fingers continued their exploration, now sliding down to trace the curve of your waist, coming to rest at the small of your back, pulling you closer into him, erasing any space that remained.

The closeness intensified the connection, the heat between you nearly tangible. Jensen's control was palpable, yet so was the affection and genuine admiration he held for you, making his allure almost magnetic.

"I mean it", he continued. "You captivate me like no other".

The sincerity in his voice, combined with the deliberate movements of his body, stirred a profound response within you. You felt enveloped not just by his physical presence but by the intensity of his emotions. His words, laden with affection and admiration, seemed to echo through you, heightening the intimacy of the moment.

Jensen finally closed the scant distance between your lips, sealing the words with a kiss that was both a promise and a claim—a slow, deep melding of mouths that spoke of shared desire and the unspoken acknowledgment of the bond between you.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Taglist: @cheynovak @chriszgirl92 @jenniferr0323 @angelbabyyy99 @cevansbaby-dove @muhahaha303 @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @viviandarkbloom06 @jassackles @evasmlp @acklesaddict67 @mostlymarvelgirl @emma1998sblog @mishaesque @headinthemoon87 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @impala67rollingthroughtown @manicjk @kr804573 @zaratahir @djs8891 @winchesterwild78 @jamerlynn @whimsyfinny @libby99hb @deansimpalababy @deans-queen @kawaii-arfid-memes @faephoria @stoneyggirl2 @fitxgrld @luvr4miya @yikeschoices @lyssalvus @soab1967 @luvr4miya @didi0666 @impala67rollingthroughtown @cheekygirl2309

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x you #jensen x reader #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles the boys #jensen x y/n #jensen x you #his true fate

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mewtwo24 · 4 months

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You know idk if it's just me being oblivious af but mxtx sure does enjoy putting her protags through the trolley problem when it comes to her works huh /j

#mdzs #mxtx #i say this not to be critical but because she really does prove how time and again #people want a scapegoat and an easy target to blame #and so much of her work is abt proving how faulty these philosophical absolutes are--nothing is that simple.#literally the arguments made to put everything on wwx (at least for now) appear to be faulty at best #i mean sure sometimes he puts his foot in his mouth but like ;;;;;;;; the kid is just doing his best wtf #everyone out here like WWX IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU except for lwj and i'm just like #1. hes literally like 16 yrs old or smth #2. whether or not he stepped in during the cave scene was kind of a non-question??????#the wens were so clearly going to engage in egregeious violence regardless of the rationalizations that came after #pointing fingers is legitimately pointless and fallacious logic #if mianmian wasnt targeted theres really no guarantee smth similar wouldnt have happened #furthermore working tg and refusing to play by wens' rules was p much the only feasible option #lwj was young and afraid and had lost so much but he still had enough clarity to insist on working tg #i also really love what he said abt suffering bc its just true.#the way he claps back to his uncle by saying that nobody would be spared violence and atrocity #the only choice they had was to try to band tg and mitigate the dmg--basically 'war is hell'#i find it such a stark and lovely contrast to the common perception of others abt him #that lwj stands alone and thinks of no one else; quite the contrary #he's v self-contained and v disciplined but he's not indifferent to suffering or apathetic #i think so much of the natural love that blooms between wwx and lwj is rooted in their mutual desire to do good #wwx wants to help--he loves to see people smile. he would do anything to protect the ppl he loves #lwj is honestly the same--he's just more abt structure and stability #wwx is more spontaneous and more attuned to the people around him #im a little shocked that people werent able to tell lwj was just as obsessed with him #just bc wwx is loud and mischievous about his interest doesnt really???? to me mask the ways lwj is so responsive. also i ????????#still don't understand the mental gymnastics of madame jiang insisting it was all wwx's fault when she literally targeted wen's mistress ->#in retaliation???????????????? all this 'pick your battles what the fuck is wrong with you wwx' and she goes and instigates their wrath??#i mean idk fellas i was just sitting there like 'you could have handled this so many ways and you picked the TNT option. wat.'

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saetoru · 1 year

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ PARTNERS — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)

contents. college! au, rich boy! gojo, established relationship, you and suguru are partnered for a project instead of satoru…and he doesn’t take the news lightly, dramatic toru and INSTIGATOR suguru

satoru is sulking—you’d find it a little amusing any other day, but he seems a bit more upset than usual. and quite frankly, suguru isn’t really helping things out either, so you feel just a little bad.

“baby,” you poke his cheek, “it’s not our fault! we just got randomly assigned—”

“whatever,” he huffs. you tug at his arm, but he pulls it away.

it just so happens that the three of you seem to share a class this semester—but unfortunately, suguru is assigned as your partner for a project. it’s the same project satoru wanted to be paired with you for. he seems convinced it’ll be you and him that are called—which, in all honesty, the likelihood of being paired with you out of the multiple people in the class is low, but it’s only added insult to injury that suguru had the odds in his favor.

satoru is not handling it well.

“toru,” you insist, pinching his cheek in hopes to cheer him up. he scowls at you—as if this is your fault, “c’mon, cheer up! now that it’s suguru, you can just tag along when we work—”

“tag along?” he cuts you off, tone bordering on hurt, “so now i’m the third wheel?”

oh dear.

“n-no!” you say quickly—suguru has the audacity to snicker, earning a warning glance from you, “you’re never the third wheel, toru. you’re the first wheel! the only wheel. really!”

“y’know,” suguru starts—you already know whatever he’s about to say is going to make things ten times worse. you try (and fail) to glare at him until he’s silent. “if i recall, the two of you got together through a project, didn’t you? who knows, maybe you’ll have the biggest crush on me after this is over.”

suguru drops the bomb and winks. you look at him like you want to kill him. satoru’s face is devastated.

you think this might be the end.

“what?” satoru gasps, turning to you quickly, “tell him that’s impossible, tell him! tell him he’s hideous and that you only have eyes for me—”

“toru, of course i only have eyes for you, don’t listen to him, he’s just pushing your buttons—”

“hey, you never know. i might charm you,” suguru adds fuel to the fire—this time, you throw your water bottle at him. he catches it with ease, throwing you a smug grin that makes you scowl deeper.

“you’re hideous, suguru,” satoru spits, “no way anyone would leave me for you—”

“that already happened. remember your girlfriend in middle school?”

“that doesn’t count! we were too young to know what love was back then!”

satoru is practically inconsolable now—you consider dropping out of this class just for the sake of peace. maybe you can take it over the summer and be paired with a random stranger that won’t bother your dramatic boyfriend. maybe you can evade the project altogether with a different professor. maybe you can kill suguru and the misfortune of a dead partner can grant you an automatic exemption from this assignment.

you weigh your options as satoru slumps with a pout.

“whatever,” he grumbles, “i don’t even care. have fun without me.”

suguru chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. you sigh before cupping satoru’s cheeks and giving him a small kiss to his forehead to cheer him up.

not surprisingly, it doesn’t seem to work.

“cheer up, baby,” you reason, “at least since it’s just suguru, you won’t have to leave us alone to work! it won’t be awkward if you’re there too.”

“but you’ll be too busy working with suguru to talk to me,” he says bitterly.

“at least i’ll have a handsome face to keep me motivated,” you grin, kissing his jaw—now that…that seems to cheer him up considerably. he brightens, plastering that usual smug grin he sports, as if the world around him wasn’t ending just moments ago.

“i am handsome, aren’t i?” he hums, wrapping an arm around you—mission accomplished, you think happily.

“yeah,” you nod quickly, “and suguru is hideous anyway. i’d never leave you for someone with a tacky man bun—”

“hey, leave my hair out of this—”

“it is pretty tacky,” satoru nods and agrees.

suguru crosses his arms, glaring at the both of you before he opens his mouth to retaliate. you cut in before he can say anything else to worsen satoru’s mood any further.

“and maybe you can help me—you’re smarter than suguru too.”

“he is not—”

“you’re right baby,” satoru hums, “maybe this is for the best. i’ll save both of your grades this way.”

suguru’s vein all but pops. “we don’t need your help—”

“don’t worry suguru,” satoru grins confidently, pointing to himself with his thumb, “i’ll save your grade. no need to thank me—ow!”

you watch tiredly as suguru throws your water bottle at satoru’s head—it’s going to be a long project.

i already know the switch boy! au people are gonna start the “suguru definitely wants reader” comments. i’m waiting for them i can sense them already

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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buckyalpine · 3 months

Text

I was thinking about Bucky. A beefy Bucky. A beefy mob Bucky. Who is such a simp. I think now is the perfect time to talk about it cause I need some fluff and look at that, it's also my favorite @wifeofbarnes birthday!

Happy birthday sweet angel, I hope you have one filled with so much love ❤️️❤️️

Imagine a brooding beefy mob Bucky pining after his rivals sweet, shy daughter. He has no business liking her, her father was always teetering on the edge of putting a bullet between Bucky's eyebrows but Bucky couldn't help it. She's too cute. Too sweet. Everyone knows there's something between you both between the fleeting glances and the number of times Bucky's left with a blush on his cheeks whenever your around.

For someone who hates meetings, he's more than fond of going to your estate to talk over business with a man he hates so much. He's going to go to every single one of those meeting if it means he gets to see you. He never gets more than a few moments, no more than a few words before he's dragged away by Steve who isn't trying to get stabbed by one of your bodyguards.

Bucky swirls his crystal glass, the ice in clinking against each other as he takes a sip of amber liquid, seated at a private booth at the back of the club. The alcohol that's already warming his body heats him up even more when he sees you laughing and giggling with your friends, a cute little birthday girl tiara on top of your head.

Fuck, you were so perfect.

"You're staring again, you creep" Steve snorts but Bucky pays him no mind. He's too busy looking at you in your pretty dress, your hips swaying to the music. Tipsy, maybe even a little drunk, love sick Bucky wants nothing more than to get a moment alone with you but he's smart enough to wait.

Well, sort of.

"Go distract her bodyguards"

"You're going to get us killed"

"Then you'll die knowing it was for a good cause"

Sam and Steve shake their head as they wander off to find your security team, quietly instigating a small scuffle to keep them occupied. You step outside waiting for your car to pull up, frowning when a large black truck stops in front of you instead. The door opens and-

"Bucky, what are you doing!" you squeak as he pulls you into the back of his SUV, setting you on his lap before telling his driver to park in a secluded area and to leave for a "smoke break".

"I wanted to say hi" Bucky shrugs innocently as if its the most obvious thing in the world.

"And this is how you decided to say hi?" You giggle, feeling butterflies bustle around your tummy being so close to him. You could smell his cologne and the warm scent of whiskey clinging onto his lips; you wanted nothing more than to bury yourself into him. The pink on his cheeks deepened at you caught him in his little act, pretending he wasn't admiring you from afar the whole time.

"I didn't know it was your birthday" He shrugs again while you try to wiggle off his lap, worried someone might see you but he huffs and holds you tighter. "The windows are tinted" he reads your mind without you saying anything, feeling your body relax slightly.

"Wish you'd said hi to me earlier" You say with a sigh and Bucky doesn't like the way you look sad now. You would've loved to spend more time with him instead of hiding away like this.

"I can drop you home" He offers with a boyish smile and you shake your head because it's far too risky and there's no way you'd be able to get away with it and sneak it past your father.

"Not unless you plan on posing as the cleaning lady-

"I can do that"

"Bucky-

"I can pull off a maids dress"

"James"

"Then how about a birthday kiss" He cocked his head to the side playfully and you swear your cheeks couldn't get any hotter.

"Bucky-

"Just one birthday kiss?" He pouts and you can't believe this mass of tattoos and muscle is giving you puppy eyes with his pink bottom lip jutting out.

"I-

"Please, sugar?" He whispers, his fingers tracing nimble little shapes on your hips while you chew your lip nervously, giving him a nod because you can no longer formulate words. He leans down to press his lips softly against yours and you sigh at the little whimper he lets out, his hands pawing at you to hold you closer. He feels all warm and fuzzy on the inside, letting his arms hug your body extra tight.

"Another?" He whispers, lips brushing against yours with a plea in his voice and you giggle, kissing him again.

"One more?"

"Bucky"

"Please?" He smiles when you kiss him until you're both breathless, only pulling away when you need air.

Imagine how cute he'd be trying to spend more time with you as discreetly as possible. You're usually at home so that's his best bet so he'll work with what he can.

"Why is this large fuck around my house so often" Your father rubbed his temples seeing another message for a meeting to go over shipments and territories. "Seriously, he's here almost every week"

Bucky is able to pull it off for a bit but honestly not for long. He's sitting across your father and it's gotten to the point his guards don't bother waiting by the door because Bucky isn't even a threat. He always comes and goes like it's his own house and they're not blind, silently betting over if this will end in a war or wedding.

"For fucks sake are you here to see me or my daughter" your father finally huffs, no longer able to take Bucky's blushing and shifting after you left his office to give him a coffee. "You're here to see her, aren't you"

Bucky nods like a school child who got caught cause knows he hasn't been discreet with his crush. Your father contemplates tossing Bucky into the lake with rocks tied to his ankles but he's also seen the way you look at him and there's no doubt the feelings are mutual.

"God damnit"

Imagine wedding and 2 babies later, Bucky is still just as in love with you. The cutest part is he's still trying to be sneaky.

"You're married now, why the hell are you still trying to hide" Your father berates the mob boss while bouncing his grandson in his lap seeing Bucky tug you into the kitchen so he could kiss you. "You're 6 feet tall and built like a line backer, you can't exactly hide, son"

Bucky pouts at you while you giggle hearing your father snort from the living room.

"He's right, y'know" you nuzzle into your husband while he engulphs you in his arms. You squeal when he hoists you up instead and makes a beeline towards the bedroom. You still stir something in him to this day and since your dad was there to babysit anyway...

"Bucky, where are we going"

"To go make baby #3"

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saintobio · 3 months

Text

daddy’s little devils.

when dealing with not only one, but two mini versions of your husband is a type of chaos you never saw coming. but with him by your side, there’s nothing else in life you could’ve ever wished for.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader genre. domestic fluff, slice of life, explicit smut cw. dilf!sukuna, profanity, explicit smut, mommy/daddy kink, breeding kink, fellatio, spitting, unprotected, creampie, 18+ notes. 4.5k. just bcos i had to write dilf!sukuna version of this fic. enjoy >:D i was smiling throughout writing this! reblogs are highly appreciated!

Sukuna as a husband was unexpectedly romantic. Despite his cold and indifferent demeanor towards others, sometimes bordering on snarky and arrogant, he displayed a surprisingly soft side when it came to you. A really, really soft and incredibly clingy side, one where he always wants you by his side and becomes grumpy the moment you leave him alone for even a few minutes, claiming and whining about how you no longer love him. That was a hidden facet of his personality that no one else knew, a side that made him appear submissive to his wife rather than the other way around.

But to be honest, you loved that about him. You absolutely, with all your heart and soul, adored that about him.

However, Sukuna as a father was quite the mischief-maker. And having to deal with three versions of him in your life certainly didn’t make things any easier.

“Ryomen Sukuna… your sons,” you exclaimed, your voice tinged with exhaustion as you burst through the front door, “are a menace.”

Your husband was lounging on the sofa when you came home, an iPad in hand, watching as you kicked off your shoes and juggled with your bag and the twins’ belongings.

“Hey, baby,” he regarded you with a bemused expression. “What did they do this time?”

You didn’t even know where to begin. In all honesty, the question should have been: what did they not do?

“Ugh! My head hurts.” As soon as you released the bags onto the floor, you sank onto the couch, frustration evident in your visage as you ran a hand through your hair. “Raiden stabbed a classmate in the back with a crayon,” you recounted in disbelief, “And Ryuji drew your ‘tattoos’ all over himself with the teacher’s marker.”

Right on cue, the two little devils—his twin boys, his exact carbon copies—barreled into the house like the troublemakers they were.

“Papaaa!” the twins chorused, leaping into their father’s lap the moment they saw him.

Sukuna’s smirk blossomed into a grin, clearly amused and somewhat proud of his mini-me’s. “Aww, look at my little tattoo artist!” He applauded with amusement as he carried one twin on his lap. “That’s awesome, Ryuji!” Then, he turned to Raiden, who awaited his praise as well. “And Raiden, Mama said you stabbed someone? I bet your classmate was being a jerk, huh? Good job!”

The twins and their father bonded over the mischief, with Sukuna ridiculously acting as an instigator rather than reprimanding them. Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse. Was he actually entertained with this whole ordeal? Jesus. You shot Sukuna a glare, finding the situation far from amusing. And as soon as he caught sight of your serious expression, his face softened into an apologetic stance, silently mouthing the word, ‘sorry’.

“Ryo, stop monkeying around,” you stated firmly, crossing your arms. “They’re causing trouble, and you do realize I had to endure a lecture about their unacceptable behavior, right?”

Only when he noticed the genuine concern in your voice did he shift his tone slightly, though you could see a hint of playfulness remaining. With your husband clearing his throat and adjusting in his seat, it seemed like he was merely putting on a show of being a ‘strict dad’ in front of you, while secretly shooting winks at his sons as if to say he was just playing around.

“Alright, alright,” he began putting on an act, addressing his twins, “You two are grounded. Go to your rooms. Now.”

Instead of showing any fear, the twins giggled as they dashed out of the living room without a care in the world—their tiny footsteps echoing all over the house as they ran recklessly. They didn’t even listen when you shouted at them to be careful. And now you couldn’t help but cross your arms, clearly dissatisfied with how your husband handled the situation in jest.

“Baby, come on,” he coaxed, drawing you closer and enveloping you in his strong embrace. You could feel his chin resting on your shoulder as he placed a kiss on your cheek. “I understand your frustration. They’re naughty when they want to be. But you have to admit, they’re showing some… initiative.”

Raising an eyebrow, you watched as he struggled to suppress a laugh at his own words. “Initiative? They’re supposed to be learning how to share and play nice, not how to terrorize their classmates!”

“Right, right. Of course,” he murmured, attempting to ease the tension with a gentle massage on your shoulders. “I understand. I’ll have a talk with them, mommy. Let’s not get angry now.”

The dilemma here was your desire to maintain the facade of a strict mom, to avoid the embarrassment of picking up your kids from daycare for causing yet another trouble. You loathed the judgmental stares from other parents, the silent accusation that you and your husband weren’t disciplining your children properly. It was as if they viewed you as terrible parents. Like you didn’t raise your kids right.

At first, their opinions didn’t bother you; after all, they knew nothing about your family beyond the PTA meetings you’ve had to attend. But time and time again, after having to offer countless apologies to the parents of your sons’ classmates and the teachers who had to deal with them, their scrutiny was starting to get into your head—that perhaps you weren’t as strict as you thought. Perhaps you were too lenient. Perhaps you needed to assert your authority over your children so they’d learn to listen to you.

Yet, despite your resolve, you couldn’t resist the charm of your twins. They were just too adorable for their own good. And, well, their dad wasn’t exactly lacking in the charm department either.

With a sigh, you leaned against his chest. “I just want them to grow up to be good, not little terrors.”

Sukuna tenderly lifted your chin, planting a soft, affectionate kiss on your lips. “I promise, they’ll turn out great. Let’s not be too hard on them.”

You had to acknowledge Sukuna’s efforts and give credit where it’s due. After he had promised to ‘talk’ to the kids, you did notice a marked improvement in their behavior since then. You and your husband used to take turns picking up the twins from daycare, but recently, he had insisted on doing it more frequently than you, saying that as his latest project had been completed, he now had more available time to pick up the twins after work.

You suspected the real reason behind his request was to alleviate your stress from constantly dealing with your sons’ antics. Knowing him, Sukuna also wanted to gauge the current atmosphere at the school by having conversations with the teachers and other parents to ensure there were no issues like bullying or other serious matters.

With that solution in place, Raiden and Ryuji became much less of a handful, and the main reason being the reward system that Sukuna had implemented for the kids, where he promised to buy them expensive toys if they earned stars for good behavior each week.

So that was how it went for the next two weeks. No calls from distressed teachers, no calls from concerned parents. In fact, the twins eagerly showed you their progress and proudly displayed the stars on their hands each time they received them. You couldn’t help but swell with pride at their accomplishments, because as small as they were to some people, they were huge achievements for you and your husband as their supportive parents.

At least, you could relax for now. With the twins having toned down their mischievous shenanigans, your mind was more at ease. To be fair, they might seem like little devils wherever they went, but when they were peacefully sleeping like they were now on the couch, they appeared as absolute angels in your eyes.

The living room was bathed in a dim light, with the glow of the TV screen illuminating their cute, little faces as they snuggled up together on the couch, in their peaceful slumber sandwiched between you and your husband. They had dozed off before the movie ended, and now, with the credits rolling, your family movie night concluded earlier than expected.

“My precious babies,” you cooed in a hushed voice, gently stroking Ryuji’s cheek and planting a kiss on Raiden’s nose. Their eyes, their brows, their nose, their lips—every detail was taken from their father, and nothing from you. But you didn’t mind, because you knew just how strikingly handsome they would be when they grow up. “Looks like our little troublemakers couldn’t make it to the end of the movie.”

Sukuna chuckled softly and glanced down at his sleeping sons with a fond smile. In holding his family close, he could feel that blissful warmth flooding his heart at the sigh of his wife and his kids snuggled together. “They’re tired today. Didn’t even last an hour into watching Megamind.”

You smiled, carefully rising from the couch so as not to disturb the sleeping twins. The moment you caught your husband’s eye, you gestured for him to lift Raiden into his arms. “Let’s get them to bed.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, scooping up Raiden, while you lifted Ryuji, and together you carried your kids to their room.

After tucking each twin into bed and giving them a final kiss on the forehead, you motioned for your husband to quietly exit the room with you. He was still adjusting the AC for their comfort before following you out close behind. The lights in their room now completely switched off.

“They’re out like a light,” Sukuna whispered as both of you made your way towards the master bedroom.

You stifled a yawn, stretching your arms. “Finally, some peace and quiet.”

“Nuh-uh,” countered your husband, who was now grinning mischievously as he stopped in his tracks and grabbed you by the waist. “Not so soon, wife.”

Before you knew it, you were pressed against the wall, a mere few inches outside your bedroom’s door, caged between your husband’s toned arms as he looked down at you like a lion looking at its prey. His animalistic gaze never failed to send you into an orbit of weakness, like always. “H-Hey.”

A teasing smirk then appeared on his handsome face. “You know, babe, now that the boys are asleep, we could really make good use of this time.”

“Really, now?” You held back a chuckle, cheeks heating up from the wanton desire on your husband’s eyes. As you crossed your arms and leaned against the wall, you didn’t realize that such action only caused him to go even crazier than he already was.

“Dammit.” His eyes danced in lust as he stared at your cleavage when you crossed your arms. He had good self-control, too. That was… until he couldn’t resist it anymore. He had to have his hand squeeze one breast gently, fondling the rounded mass like they were his personal stress balls. “Are you ovulating, honey? They look huge.”

You weren’t sure as it had been while since you tracked it, but your breasts did feel heavier lately. And sore, too, because he was kneading them. “Hmm. I might be expecting my period soon.”

Very playfully, Sukuna leaned forward to trail kisses along your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin as he spoke, “What do you say we add another one to the bunch?” was his whispered suggestion, “A little girl, maybe? I know a few positions.”

“Are you serious?” You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a laugh. “With these two little devils wreaking havoc, you still want to add more chaos to the mix?”

His finger was already looping around the strap of your nightgown, pulling it down with a salacious upward curve of his lips. “You know you love the chaos, babe.” You could feel his hands moving to grab a handful of your buttocks, squeezing your bum eagerly. “Plus, imagine all the mischief our little girl could get up to.”

You couldn’t help it either—the desire, the tension. Not to mention, your husband was looking undeniably hot right now, with the muscles on his chest pressing against yours, making you want nothing but to see him shirtless again. Those toned abs, those muscular arms. God. His lips were also soft and sweet when he pulled you into an open-mouthed kiss

“You are,” you mumbled in between kisses, breathing heavily against his mouth, “very naughty, mister.”

You felt him smirking through your kiss before he grabbed your thighs, and lifted you up so you could wrap them around his waist. The kissing, the very intense kissing, with his tongue rolling against yours and you moaning against his mouth, was already as erotic as it could get. When was the last time you two had sex? Last week? You couldn’t remember which specific day it was, but you did recall it being only a quick one in the shower. This time, it definitely wouldn’t be a quickie as he seemed to have plans in giving you a sleepless night.

Sukuna carefully placed you down in your king-sized bed, pulling his shirt off and once again crawling above you to hungrily meet your lips with his. And did you mention he was a good multitasker? As he nibbled on your lower lip, breathing you in like you were an addicting drug he couldn’t get enough off, his fingers were also rubbing your clothed entrance, pulling your underwear to the side to touch your moist cunt.

“Mhmm—!”

Two fingers entered you without warning, and he pulled away from the kiss to look at the face you were making as he used his digits to find your sweet spot. “You’re so fuckin’ hot, Y/N.”

You arched your back, spreading your legs wide open to give him full access to your core. The moment he was able to reach your g-spot, you could feel your lower abdomen coiling from the intense wave of pleasure that was coursing through your body. “Nghh—yes, daddy. That’s it!”

A few more pumps, hard and fast, had you gasping for air like a fish out of the ocean. He seemed to have loved the sight too, as he kept his dark, sultry eyes fixed on you while he fingered you like there was no tomorrow. “You’re one hot mama, aren’t you?” he asked, withdrawing his fingers and sucking on them to taste your slick. “Can I fuck your mouth, baby?”

“‘Mmkay,” you answered, pulling yourself up to help him rid himself of his pajamas. The sight of his bulge—his big, angry bulge—made you all the more excited. You had seen him many times before and knew just how huge his member could grow when aroused, but it still didn’t change the fact that seeing his fully erect cock surprised you every single time. Because it was thick, it was long, it was meaty, it was veiny. “Gosh, lovey. You’re huge.”

He obviously liked hearing that. Not only did you inflate his ego, it also made him desire you even more as he positioned his shaft on your face, pulling your hair into a ponytail. “Open your mouth.”

Like a good girl, you did as told. And your eyes went wide as he forced his cock inside, thrusting balls deep in and out of your mouth. He was doing it roughly to the point where your eyes pooled with tears because your gag reflex kept on fighting back. You couldn’t even taste him properly because your saliva was coating his entire length, but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling in satisfaction as you watched your husband throw his head back from the utmost pleasure of being inside your mouth.

“Ah, fuck. Fuck.” He cussed multiple times, jostling his hips before pulling his member out. “Your mouth’s so warm.”

For a moment, you replaced your mouth with your hand, an elbow propped on the other as you stroked his girthy length. You jacked him off at the pace you knew he preferred, and placed your tongue flat on the swollen pink head like it was a lollipop. You were kissing the tip with your eyes staring back at him, ultimately driving him into insanity. “Like that, daddy?”

“Fuck yes,” he grunted, his vulgar thoughts now consuming his actions as he grabbed your chin up, only to then spit in your mouth. “I’m gonna get you pregnant tonight,” he declared in a deep, raspy voice, “Gonna fill up that pretty little pussy with my cum.”

Damn, he’s serious about it?

As embarrassing as it may sound, you could feel your pussy clenching from his lewd words. “You want a baby girl for real?”

Your husband lowered himself down to meet your level, undressing you impatiently like a rabid dog who was ready to bite its victim. And in your naked glory, he then spread your legs apart and rubbed his shaft in between your labia. “I do,” he said, puppy eyes hoping for you to say yes, “I want a baby girl, please. Please. Please.”

Could you even resist this man?

You gave him an answer by nodding, holding your smile by biting your lower lip as you watched your silly husband reach through the nightstand in search of the lube. Because he was too crazed with excitement, a couple packs of unused condoms fell out of the drawer as he grabbed the strawberry-colored tube.

“Take it easy. Jeez,” you teased.

“You’re driving me nuts here.”

You decided to tease him even more by touching yourself, your fingers doing circular motions on your clit as your husband coated his entire length with the water-based lube. The smell of artificial strawberry permeated through the air, and with it being your favorite scent, you felt more stimulated than ever. “Mmm. I want you inside me now, lovey.”

“What mommy wants, mommy gets,” he joked, manhandling both your legs into placing it above his shoulders and putting you into his favorite position. The classic missionary. “Ah, shit.” He buried his member agonizingly slow. “Why… are… you so damn tight tonight?”

Maybe because you were clenching around his cock, squeezing his angry member with your velvet walls and giving him that extra good grip he always went absolutely wild for. “A-Aah! Y-You love it.”

“Fuck, yeah.” He began thrusting now. Using his thumb to spread your slit apart, he delighted in seeing his cock go in and out of your entrance, watching the full length be swallowed by your cavern entirely. And he was going from slow and sensual, to rough and fast in less than a minute.

He was just far too deep inside. Now, you were losing hold on your sanity as with every jostle of your body, your insides were also reacting more and more violently with your knees and thighs shaking. The skin slapping sounds were bouncing across the room, and you were hoping, praying, that your soundproof walls worked well enough not to wake your innocent twins. Because at this rate, you were going to squirt all over their father. It had been sometime since you felt the need to pee during intercourse, but that also speaks of just how intense Sukuna was plowing his hardened cock inside of you.

“D-Daddy, I… I’m…”

He attached his mouth on your right tit, playing his tongue around the nipple. “Mhm… You’re so sexy, mommy.”

Two little boys. And your husband still won’t stop until he gets his little girl.

Your mind was a whirlwind that night. The events that followed became such a blur because your pleasure overpowered your ability to think straight. All you could remember was Sukuna releasing his warm load into your womb after chasing his climax, and immediately after, he had your body twisted around and positioned into what he refers ‘the undefeated’ doggy style.

Gosh, he was telling the truth when he said he was going to fuck you all night with no breaks in between.

Because now, you were on all fours, being pounded from behind as you had your hands gripping the sheets each time he propelled his body forward. He was shoving his cock from behind like it was his day job, already familiar with the perfect angle and depth in which he had to rut you in. With his hands holding your hips in place, he raised one leg on the mattress, and the other knee still intact, to fuck you senseless.

“Mmm—Aah! Haah!”

The deeper he penetrated you, the lower your upper body went. You were now in a position with your chest down low, and your ass up high so that he could see your hole in a much, much better view. “You think you can take ‘nother round after this, babe?” he asked, breathless as he reached forward to squeeze your tit. “I don’t wanna push your limits.”

“I-I don’t t-think I c-can…”

You could hear his deep chuckle despite your frenzied state, and soon enough, he was increasing the speed of his thrusts once more, cursing and moaning while doing so, before shooting thick ropes of seed inside your cunt.

He collapsed next to you right after that, while you were completely limp in labored breaths as you lay beside him. The feeling of his semen dripping out of your pussy had you reaching for your husband’s arm, pointing towards the box of tissue with your half-lidded eyes. You were too sore to move.

Sukuna immediately got the cue. “I got it,” he said, pecking your lips before doing the task of wiping the mess on your body. And as soon as he was able to clean you off, he quickly went back beside you, pulling you into a sweet, husbandly embrace. “Good night, beautiful.”

You hummed in your drowsy state, his chest becoming the perfect pillow for your head to sleep on. “Night, night, handsome.”

Good lord was his body sore.

But was that the greatest fucking sex he has ever had? Hell yes. It was so good that he even dreamed of it.

As the morning sun streamed through the curtains, the aftermath of your passionate night was evident in the tousled sheets and sleepy smiles that you both had that morning. He still had you in his arms, your body secured around his as he pressed his lips into your temple.

“Good morning, my love.”

You stirred awake, blinking sleepily as you stretched beneath the warmth of the covers. He could tell you were still groggy from last night’s events, and he was a hundred percent certain that you were also too sore to walk. “Morning, lovey.”

But before he could savor the domestic moment with you, the bedroom door burst open, and a fully awakened Raiden and Ryuji came in with their energy back at 100%. Oh, boy. Sukuna just had to forget locking the door last night.

Raiden, in his polka pjs, was jumping up and down excitedly. “Mama! Papa! Wake up!”

He was joined by his twin brother, Ryuji, who was in his striped pajamas, skipping around the room. “We want pancakes, pwease!”

Sukuna could feel you stiffening next to him, and he saw the look of panic in your eyes upon realizing that you were very much naked under the sheets. So, hastily and frantically, your beloved husband pulled the duvet, covering your chest from being exposed and hoping to conceal any tell-tale marks.

“Shh! Keep it down, boys,” he reprimanded the twins, “Mama and Papa are still sleeping.”

The stubborn Ryuji placed his hands on his hips. “But you’re awake, Papa!”

On the other hand, Raiden, who climbed the king-sized bed, was pointing towards his mother. “Mama, what’s on your shoulder?”

At the sight of the marks, Sukuna’s eyes widened in alarm and his cheeks were limned with a crimson hue. His mind raced for a plausible explanation because those exact bruises on your shoulder were, in fact, hickeys. So before you could speak, he took it upon himself to handle the matter. “That... It’s, uh, a battle wound.” He mentally kicked himself for such a ridiculous lie. “Mama’s very brave, you see. She fought off a giant mosquito last night.”

You stifled a laugh, burying your face into the pillow for a moment, and later deciding to play along. “That’s right,” you agreed, nodding seriously. “Mama’s a warrior.”

Raiden and Ryuji, however, were too smart for this as the twins exchanged skeptical glances, clearly not buying their parents' explanation. And with Raiden being the more vocal one, he pointed it out first. “But why does it look like a bunch of tiny kisses?”

Sukuna struggled now, and while he was still thinking of another excuse, you finally stepped in to try and save the day.

And thank the heavens, you handled it a lot more casually than he did. “It’s a secret,” you said, smiling at your kids, “Mama and Papa have a secret game they play sometimes. Right, Papa?”

Your husband quickly joined in on your little antic. “That’s right, it’s a secret game! But it’s only for grown-ups,” he clarified to the curious twins, who were clearly intrigued by this mysterious ‘game’. “You two aren’t old enough to play yet.”

The twins exchanged curious glances, their skepticism giving way to fascination. “Okay,” Raiden said slowly, still pondering the explanation. Ryuji just shrugged, accepting it more readily.

Only then did Sukuna breathe a silent sigh of relief as he was grateful for your quick thinking. But with children like these two, the interrogation was clearly far from over because Ryuji decided to make things even more complicated when he picked up an unused packet of condom on the floor, its bright red color attracting his interest. “Mama, is this candy?” asked your son, pointing to the strawberry logo, “Can I have it?”

“No, sweetheart, that’s not candy,” you softly spoke. The composure in your voice was outstanding. Sukuna should definitely learn a thing or two from you. “Give it to Mama.”

And while you dealt with the other twin, Raiden jumped out of bed and tugged at his father’s arm persistently. “Papa, pancakes!” he demanded, throwing a tantrum as he chanted. “Pancakes! Pancakes! We want pancakes!”

“Okay, okay!” The father sighed inwardly, shooting you a look for help as if he was their slave for the day. All you could do was chuckle and mouth ‘you got this’ back to him. Well, he didn’t have much of a choice, did he? “Coming right up, you little monsters.”

“Yayy!”

“Woohoo!”

You, barely handling the noise at six in the morning, groaned playfully next to your husband. “See? Having another kid isn’t as easy as you think,” you told him, “We can barely handle these two.”

Sukuna displayed a grin, running a hand through his hair as he looked at his wife and your little ones. “Boys, do you want a baby sister? Yes or yes?”

Raiden and Ryuji, in unison, answered giddily. “Yes! We want a baby sister!”

A look of defeat clouded your eyes, while your husband laughed and kissed your forehead. “You heard them, love,” he reminded, softly, “I want my baby girl soon.”

He knew that, despite your playful protest, having a daughter was a shared desire. “Fine.”

So in swift movements, your husband slipped into his pants beneath the covers, then got out of bed to scoop up the twins in his arms. “Alright, breakfast time you two!” he announced, heading towards the door with his sons cheering together. And just before leaving, he cast one last tender smile in your direction.

“I love you, Y/N. Chaos and all.”

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna fluff #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #dilf!sukuna #dad!sukuna

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cattolino · 5 months

Text

little bit of advice, take the dare.

pairing: bang chan x f!reader. warnings: profanities, implied exhibitionism, dirty truth or dare (more like dare or dare...), stripping, mild grinding, dirty talks. genre: implied rivals to lovers, implied smut. rating: mature. word count: 2.1k

“Let Chan strip two pieces of your clothing.”

These little bitches.

The innocence in Seungmin’s broad grin as he delivered aloud and clear what Minho had earlier whispered in his ear wasn’t able to deceit Chan the slightest in spite of it combined with that sparkly attentive puppy stare.

A foul scheme had been carefully arranged in those two cunning heads of theirs before they instigated this truth or dare game as soon as the majority of people returned home. Chan wasn’t oblivious of what he would get himself into the moment Minho escorted him from the drinking game in the back patio to a coffee table in the living room and begged him to join in the fun. Especially when you were one of the people centering around the table.

And so Chan was down for whatever challenges thrown his way no matter truth or dare it was that he ended up choosing. Wouldn’t really matter. Except now it was your turn, yet he was somehow involved in such a risque dare so early in the game.

Seungmin’s index finger pointed around the room twice, attracting the attention of the few people close enough to the table to see what he was up to, and he added, “or let anyone in the room. Your choice.”

As though he expected you would actually pick one of the sweaty and tipsy dimwits you barely knew of instead of Chan who you were certainly more familiar with. When, seriously, it was clear to Chan that both Seungmin and Minho wanted to prove him wrong— that the possibility of you romantically attracted to one another wasn’t even close to impossible despite the banter between the two of you sometimes getting out of hand.

The banter, Seungmin and Minho insisted, was a flirting attempt.

You leaned back onto the sofa behind you, crossing your arms with a stare of haughty disdain piercing through Seungmin and Minho’s who both seemed to be just as imperious.

“I was expecting a more daring one from you horny freaks,” your eyes then landed on Chan who was sitting across from you. Not looking away, your proud smile widened into a blithe grin, “this isn’t even his dare. But if he’s down, I don’t see why I have to back down.”

Chan stretched his arms and arched his back as a dramatic warmup before downing the remaining liquor in his red cup, earning supportive laughs from the excessively excited spectators around. “As long as you don’t back down if they involve you in my dares later.”

Getting up from the floor, you rounded the table and stood before him. You mirrored the smug grin that stretched across his face as he peered up at you, “pants and sweater then, gentleman.”

Despite the profuse tease that gleamed in your irises, Chan didn’t entertain you with even a slight wavering in the way he looked back up at you. Instead, taunting you with a faux innocent tilt of his head as his firm yet tender fingers began to toy with the button of your jeans.

The waistband of your black panties as if emerged once he slid down the zipper. He wasn’t sure if your hand placement on the crown of his head was unintended, but then your lips tilted up into a smile and your brow arched challengingly as your fingers ran through the soft tresses of his brown curls.

Encouraged, he lifted the hem of your sweater, exposing just enough of your bare stomach. His other palm smothered around your waist and landed on the small of your back, drawing you closer until his lips accidentally brushed against the bare skin of your stomach.

Chan’s hearts didn’t leap at his own sly, dirty initiation.

It didn’t. Definitely not.

Perhaps one could cut the air with a knife as the tension between you two was thickening the longer he took his time sliding the pants off your waist and the tighter you had his hair gripped in your palm. But everyone else was too preoccupied with keeping track of his veiny hands lingering around the waistband of your jeans, tugging down the denims at an intentionally slow pace.

In one glance, nothing of your true emotions was shown through your perfunctory facade. But Chan was practically on his knees, hands on you, and there was less than two inches gap between his lips and your stomach. Anything changed from your stance, he could easily catch it.

So when he felt you tensed up when he tantalized you by skimming his palm down the side of your thigh as the other pulled the jeans down to pool around your ankles, he had to fight back the triumphant grin he felt was close to spread on his face.

Once the pants were tossed somewhere on the floor, Chan got up on his feet as you held your arms up for him to take your knitted sweater off over your head.

His eyes peered down at where the bare skin of your stomach was supposed to be on full display as he pulled the hem of your sweater up. The underband of your bralette was slowly showing the higher the hem of your sweater was lifted.

He drew closer, lips lingered on your ear, chuckling and murmuring out of everyone’s earshot, “should’ve made you rid of three garments instead of two. What a shame.”

You ran your palms down along his torso as soon as your sweater was off your upper half, and you leaned in to whisper in his ear where nobody else could hear, too. “Next time it’s your turn, I’ll make you stand on the porch naked.”

Shameless gasps of “oh fuck” was heard from around you as you casually sat down with only high cut panties and black bralette. Chan could easily relate. He found himself checking you out when you weren’t looking.

He was grateful of the sudden rough smack on his thigh that brought him back to his senses. He looked to his left where the hand was from and Minho shot him a knowing look before leaning over to mutter, “you fucking pervert.”

He chuckled. Perhaps he was.

“Spin the bottle! Spin the bottle!” Felix chippered lovely squeaks and giggles as he bounced up and down on the carpeted floor in anticipation. More because the game had progressed into all the more obscene to earlier than he had expected. Don’t be fooled by such an irradiant, angelic face.

Chan just had to dissolve into laughter and squeaks and giggles when the bottle cap once again pointed in your direction. Twice in a row, it was. He threw his head back laughing when your jaw plunged into the ground in disbelief and eyes narrowed into slits in spite, feeling betrayed— by the bottle.

“Sit on Chan’s lap.” Jeongin smugly declared before anyone could even think of something potent to embarrass yourself, effectively shutting down the jeers and laughter as they contemplated.

You shrugged, once again rounding the table to where Chan was perched on the floor and nonchalantly settled your ass on his lap before he could protest.

Chan, on the other hand, grasped either side of your waist tightly and tried to prevent you from dwelling on that particular spot. But you persisted on reclining your back onto his chest, shoving your ass further down to where Chan could feel himself twitch.

“Fuck you.” He cursed against your neck when you slightly wiggled your lower half.

“Quit being a jerk,” you whispered back with a chuckle, but tone laced with genuine threat, “or I’ll make you wet your pants. Literally.”

Not even thirty minutes into the game that everyone around the table was a little tipsy with signs of either misery and happiness written on their faces.

With five people being out of the circle and off to the back patio for a lot more lame drinking game with other football players, the remaining nine still held out in place to seek revenge.

Minho had tasted his own medicine as he was left with only briefs around his waist but not that he was unhappy about it as he’d gotten to proudly present his hard-earned well built body when you had Jisung leave three hickeys on his shoulders and two on his inner thigh. Jisung had solid yellow face paint all over his face, exactly resembling Looney Tunes’ Tweety.

Hyunjin was sprawled on the floor with occasional dramatic huffs and groans after he’d called his problematic ex and told him he’d been missing him. Changbin and Felix were disgustingly glued to one another after the older prolonged the supposedly five-second kiss. Seungmin had collected lipstick marks around his neck from ten people. Jeongin almost passed out from seven slices of pizza he’d had to finish before Seungmin returned.

And Chan was about to get his second turn after the top of the bottle pointed at him and you, who was still very much comfortably perched on his lap.

“Dare.” He didn’t even hesitate, calm and confident.

Not even when Minho slightly shoved himself forward to gain everyone’s attention. A little lift at the corner of his lips didn’t go unnoticed and for some reason, Chan was even anticipating what the little bitch had to say now.

“Are people still doing seven minutes in heaven?” Minho blurted, making Felix perk up instantly.

Hyunjin abruptly ended his dramatic disintegration and sat down with a gasp. “Oh my god,” he started, “I did it a year ago at a frat party with a guy except we weren’t allowed to say anything. Not a single fucking sound ‘cause one of them was sitting in the front of the door and if they heard even a small bit of me moaning, we’d have to walk to class the next day with extremely short fucking miniskirt. Imagine such suffering I had to bear while a hot guy blew me. He was great though.”

Wonder-stricken looks were instead what the taller got from everyone in the room. Minho was especially beaming at the deliberate suggestion and against his better judgement, his eyes landed on Chan whose chin rested on your shoulder. The older raised a brow in amusement when catching him staring, already seeing through the younger’s impish smirk.

Seungmin turned towards Minho, “I vote for what exactly Hyunjin did.”

Minho chuckled, “slow down, my guy. Our Channie doesn’t have to get someone suck him off. He can do whatever he pleases behind the door. But not. A single. Fucking. Sound.” He firmly suggested as he looked Chan dead in the eye. Insisted, even, perhaps, “or Changbin would love to lend his sister’s pink tutu.”

While Chan’s expression was hard to read, the rest seemed to be pleased. Excited, even.

You straightforwardly approved of Minho’s suggestion, ripping through the sound of supportive cheers from the others with an excited squeak after taking a sip of cheap beer from your cup, “I volunteer to sit at the door.”

Chan snorted behind you, “who says you’re not coming with me?”

A noisy commotion of “ooooohhh” and dramatic “aaaaahhh” immediately collided with the blaring EDM played in the background.

He’d thought you would never run out of snide remarks to shoot back at him at a time like this. So when you choked on your drink at his candidness, he couldn’t hold back a laugh.

Felix unattached himself from Changbin’s arm, hands flailing before his own face as he grinned so brightly that the dim room no longer seemed to be as dim as it was supposed to be. Once again, don’t be fooled by such an irradiant, angelic face. “Okay, look. You got seven minutes. Choose your person. No sounds allowed. We’ll set the timer once the door’s shut.”

“That room’s empty.” Changbin added with a snicker, nodding at the door to his roommate’s room, “he’s gone for two weeks. Just don’t make a mess.”

If Chan was surprised at how he managed to manhandle you and somehow scoop you up as he got on his feet, it didn’t show on his face. You securely wrapped yourself around his upper half, a long list of filthiest profanity was at the tip of your tongue at the sudden, unannounced move.

Chan blinked. Not breaking eye contact, his tongue brushed over the upper row of his pearly teeth before those sank in his lower lip. There might be a lack of reaction shown on your face as you seemed to be still as annoyed, but the faint pinkish tint that stained your cheeks had said so much already.

He glanced over to Changbin, nodding, “worry not. I’ll swallow everything y/n has to give me.”

“You better,” your irritated stare tapered off into that of a challenging glare injecting venom straight into his dimpled grin, “or I’ll make you wear the tutu.”

#skz fictions #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz bang chan #bang chan smut #chan smut #chan imagines

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murdrdocs · 7 months

Text

do you believe in us?

description. from a young age, you and PAUL ATREIDES believe you belonged to the other, and foolishly thought you could one day marry. not even an unlikely marriage between your parents will diminish those beliefs.

includes. STEPCEST, SMUT MDNI 18+, fem!reader, oral (f receiving), childhood best friends to stepsiblings, instigator paul, appearances by lady jessica, duke leto, and duncan idaho, sparring, sneaking around

wc: 5.3k+

a/n: title from us by movement. artwork credit to revol404 on instagram. ao3 link

When you were younger, you saw Castle Caladan for what it wasn’t.

In nearly all of your memories, Castle Caladan was warm and bright. The sun shone into the large windows, illuminating the gray hallways and providing a comforting warmth that seduced your young mind into seeing Castle Caladan as one of the residences from the fairytales your mother would tell you. In these memories you were always running and smiling, often hand-in-hand with your best friend. Your first love.

Paul Atreides.

Castle Caladan was the home of the person you cared about most. Therefore, visits were vacations. They were scarce, becoming more rare the older you got, but that only made you treasure them more.

You and Paul would spend the entire day together, even going as far as to sneak out of your allocated bedrooms and tiptoe into the chambers of the other. In the morning, the maids would find two little bodies sharing a bed, hands reaching out to touch the other in the empty space between you both.

And as you grew, you traded running around the halls for playing each other in chess. Playing throughout the fields was traded for walking along the shoreline.

Sneaking into each other's bedroom only changed by the nature of intentions. You still ached to spend more time together, but the innocence of it was lost. In the solitude of the night, you would make up for the time lost during the day to Paul’s training as the heir, and your duties with your mother and Lady Jessica.

When your mother broke the news, she misled you.

“You will be permanently living with the Atreides family,” came her carefully chosen words. If she had not trained you, maybe it would’ve taken you longer to catch the implications. Maybe you would not have understood what circumstances had brought this upon your family until you were packing, or even until you were already en route to Caladan.

Instead, it’s then and there that you realize how your chances have been lowered to none.

Your mother had said your name, her tone as dry and disappointed as her eyes. “You will never be able to marry him. It is as I said.”

And that was that.

Your best friend becomes your step brother in the blink of an eye. Together, you made up the new and noble siblings of House Atreides.

Your mother and Paul's father were married, and you and Paul now shared a last name. It was an immovable fact, no matter how often you and Paul attempted to convince each other of the opposite in moments of intense desperation.

No matter how many times you tried to convince the other that marriage is a procedure that could be reversed should the need ever arise, you both knew that a reversal would be unlikely.

Duke Leto married your mother despite his clear love for Lady Jessica for security. If he could manage to commit such an act onto the one he loves, then there would be no undoing this.

Now, you see Castle Caladan for what it is.

As beautiful as it is dreary. As cold as it is large. As encompassing as it is comforting.

You sit at the breakfast table next to Paul and across from your mother. Lady Jessica sits at the end of the table, and Duke Leto, your stepfather, is absent.

There’s no small talk, just the silent scraping of utensils against expensive china and the occasional audible gulp of fluid down throats.

Every so often, you throw a curious glance Paul’s way, and the look he throws at you is in similar fashion. You both feel the stiffness in the air.

Paul raises his eyebrows. He nudges them towards your mother and then his mother, and does the same with his eyes for emphasis.

You slightly widen your eyes pointedly, your way of saying I know without having to say it. His lips pull up into a small smile and then you both turn back to face your plates.

The tense silence continues for a while. Your mother addresses Lady Jessica. Lady Jessica addresses Paul. Your mother addresses you and Paul.

And then your plates are cleaned and Paul is standing.

“May we be excused?”

It’s surprisingly a clear day outside, and you did not have to speak to Paul to know that he intended for both of you to enjoy the agreeable weather before Caladan was inevitably submerged in water once more later in the night.

“You may be excused,” Lady Jessica confirms.

You’re in the midst of rising from your seat and pushing the chair out from under you whenever you catch Lady Jessica’s eye. She does not say anything to you, but she does not need to.

Just the cold gaze of her blue eyes alone are enough to make you sink back into your seat. From behind you, Paul calls your name. If you were not locked in a trance, you would have looked at him, you would have found the soothing blue-green of his eyes instead of the petrifying chill of his mothers.

“I’ll see you later, Paul,” you tell him on your own volition, but you think that is what Lady Jessica wanted you to say anyway.

She waits until the dining room is cleared of anyone other than you two before she begins to communicate.

“You and my son…” Her words taper off and you are too busy focusing on the way her lips have only moved to take in another bite of her breakfast, and not to speak to you.

While you understand the ways of the Bene Gesserit, it never fails to amaze you.

“Ma’am?” You are playing dumb and both of you are aware.

Still, Lady Jessica elaborates, “You both have had feelings for the other since you were young.”

There is no room for denial so there is no reason for you to attempt it. You nod twice, casting your eyes down to your lap where your hands lay restlessly. You begin to pick at your nails as Lady Jessica continues.

“And are those feelings still present?”

Your answer comes entirely too quick.

“No!” Your voice echoes around the room and you cringe.

Lady Jessica lifts an eyebrow. She senses your dishonesty.

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment. “Yes, ma’am. But we have not acted on them.”

When she communicates this time, it is with her voice.

“Good. You are a smart girl and your mother has raised you well. I’m sure you will make both of us proud.” She finishes off her food and sits straighter, wiping her mouth free of nonexistent residue with a white cloth. “Now I’m sure you have things to be getting to, right, dear?”

You have never been happier to leave somewhere. You say your goodbyes as graciously as possible and leave the dining room.

You’re in the training room exhausting yourself with slightly shaky jabs at the practice dummy whenever the door opens. There is a split second where you’re prepared to turn around and throw the next jab at the intruder, but then he speaks.

“If I were Gurney I would chastise you for fighting with your back to the door.”

You speak around your heavy breaths.

“Eyes in the back of my head, remember?”

Your reference is one that goes back to you and Paul’s young teenage years. A phrase you confidently proclaimed once you and Paul both had begun extensive training, learning combat that could protect yourselves and your—then separate—family names should the need ever arise. (To this day, Paul is more formidable in combat than you are, but back then you could confidently hold your own.)

Gurney had taken over training then, and he had allowed you and Paul to train together, solely because you were visiting during one of Paul’s less intense training sessions.

(You believed that Gurney always had a soft spot for you and the Atreides heir. Not nearly as obvious as the one held by Duncan Idaho, but its existence is present within the weathered man.)

When Gurney had chastised you for fighting with your back to the door, you quickly quipped with a claim that you had eyes in the back of your head. When Gurney tossed a rock at your back, not big enough to provide more than a bruise against your skin, you were able to block it without turning around.

Gurney was impressed. Paul was stunned. You attributed it to pure luck. Yet since then, it was never let go.

When you begin to notice Paul approaching you, you credit your awareness of his movement to knowing him more than you knew your surroundings. You weren’t the most skilled warrior. Your mother belongs to a notable house, which forced you to learn slightly more than the basic survival skills. Some chastised her for withholding you from Bene Gesserit training, or perhaps more in depth training that would harden both your body and your mind. As far as she cared, you could hold your own in a fight, and that is all you needed.

But you knew Paul. The ins and outs. Sometimes, late at night when you would allow the sickness of infatuation to fall upon you as you gazed at the stars, you liked to think that you and Paul were intertwined. You liked to convince yourself that your souls were intertwined and codependent.

It is hard to dispute that claim when you know based on intuition alone that Paul is right behind you.

(You can also feel his body heat and his presence behind you, but in your mind that is not nearly as romantic.)

You spin around to face Paul, your arms raised and body tensed with preparation to fight.

Paul eyes your posture, cocks his head to the side, and mirrors it.

It’s over quickly.

Paul has your dagger thrown to the side within the first three movements. He has your hands restricted in his grasp in the next two movements. With just one more movement, he has your cheek and chest pressed against the wall with your hands bound behind your back. For just a moment more, he stands a respectable distance away from you.

With the space between you both, the position could be passed off as friendly. The position could pass as the competitive nature it resembled.

Until Paul takes a step closer and flushes his crotch against your backside, making you well aware of the stiff form within his trousers.

For just a moment more, you let yourself revel in the feeling with your eyes closed, the rate of your breathing evening out now that you aren’t exerting yourself. You shimmy your hips just a bit, nestling Paul’s erection between your cheeks as best as you can with lack of movement and layers hindering your abilities.

But then the moment is gone. You push it away when you speak.

“Paul,” you intend for the syllables of his name to be a warning. At first, they come out as a pleading whine, so you clear your throat and try again.

“Paul.” This time, it is firm and demanding.

When Paul hums, it is against the shell of your ear. The proximity allows you to feel his voice instead of just hearing it, and you are instantly reminded of the times Paul had been on his knees between your legs and using the vibration that came from him to bring you pleasure you have not felt since.

“We really shouldn’t.” You’re trying to convince both him and yourself.

“Why shouldn’t we?”

The question should not have to be asked. It is a question that should not need to be answered, for you both know what is preventing you from having the other in ways from before.

You do not answer. Your forehead thuds against the wall, your warm breath rebounds against the wall and hits your lower face when you exhale.

Paul starts to gently rock his hips into yours. His free hand, the one not restricting your movement, presses flat against the cement structure.

When the pleasure increases, and your desire follows, you lift your head and let it lull to the side, resting the side of your skull against the toned muscles in Paul’s bicep. You start to give in.

Your lips part in a moan devoid of any sound as Paul asks you again.

“Tell me, my star. Why shouldn’t we?”

He lets go of your hands, instead using his own for a more important cause. His palm glides up the side of your shirt until he reaches your breast. You cannot feel the warmth of his touch through your layers, but just the pressure alone is enough to have you choking around your words.

“Because it’s not right, Paul,” you eventually tell him.

Paul tuts. The hand on the wall meets your waist, his fingertips pressing into the area as he uses his grip to pull you back against him.

“What d’you mean it’s not right?” He kisses the side of your neck and at this moment, you are considering letting him take you here and now. “It feels right, doesn’t it?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes speaking.

You had not realized just how bad you missed Paul until now. Your mind has conjured up images of him in your sleep, perfect replicas of his face created from memories of your time spent together and imagining what could be if you just release your inhibitions. When Paul gently sinks his teeth into the skin along your shoulder, it dawns on you that with just a bit more time, your dreams could easily walk into the waking world.

Maybe you were just about to give in. Maybe Paul would have convinced you to let him finally have you.

Either way, the moment is lost whenever Paul steps away from you, taking away all of the contact points in one singular move.

You turn to face him with your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes already beginning to sting with rejection whenever the door opens.

You turn your head, both stunned and grateful to see Duncan Idaho walking through, his stride strong and purposeful until he notices you standing in front of Paul.

He takes a moment to cast his eyes between both of you. You watch his gaze flicker around the room, no doubt taking in as much information as he could, before he lands on you.

“Didn’t know you were joining us today, Eyes.” It is no surprise that Duncan pulls on the same story from before for your nickname. Just as you have yet to let the anecdote go, he has yet to let the nickname go.

“I’m not,” you tell him, attempting to subtly adjust your garments. It is clear that you were not as subtle as you could have been whenever Duncan eyes you up and down. You swear there is something akin to knowing on his face.

“I was just leaving.”

“Don’t leave on my accord. Paul could use more of a challenge, isn’t that right?” Duncan smiles teasingly and finally looks at your stepbrother. You do the same.

(You are surprised to see that Paul does not look as flustered as you anticipated him to. You hope you did not pull the short stick.)

“Oh … yes.” Paul turns to face you with a smile similar to Duncan’s on his lips. “Join us … little sis.” The term of endearment sounds foreign coming from him. That is not the only reason why it makes you cringe.

You understand that both of them are making a joke at your expense. There have been a few times where you foolishly joined Duncan and Paul during their sessions, only to get knocked on your ass by Paul and goaded into getting back up by Duncan. The cycle would continue until you could do nothing but lay in bed the next day, praying for a speedy recovery so you would not waste a day that could be spent in Paul's presence.

Now that you live here, that one issue would be taken care of. Still, you prefer to be able to comfortably move around without bruises and aches restricting your movement.

Although your mind is already made up, you cannot help but attempt to defend yourself.

“Who says I haven’t gotten better?”

Paul smirks. You both know that while you have improved, he has too. He will always be ahead of you. The compromising position you were in only a few minutes ago serves as proof.

“Have you?” Duncan asks.

Your reply comes in the form of dismissal, which you do as politely as you can, adding only slight annoyance to your tone that you could only display in the presence of Duncan and none of the other members of House Atreides.

“Enjoy yourselves. Paul, I’ll see you at dinner.”

Paul nods once and then you leave with the boisterous sound of Duncan’s laughter escorting you out.

Dinner is much like breakfast.

Duke Leto joins this time, which allows for much more conversation. But the stiff and tense air still permeates the dining room. It takes you half of your entree to decipher exactly where the energy is coming from, but it is so clear once it is revealed that you cannot help but beat yourself up over your previous confusion just a bit.

Different from earlier in the morning, your mother sits at the head of the table with Duke Leto on the other end. Lady Jessica has been casted off and forced to sit across from you and Paul. She appears uncomfortable in the seat, constantly readjusting herself between quick statements that clearly express her discontent at the new arrangement.

You would have focused more on the dramatics of your family dinner table if Paul were not toying with you beneath it.

You are incredibly thankful that he kept his hands to himself, but his feet are just as insistent. Just as restless.

They poke against yours constantly, not in an attempt to gather your attention as you would consistently send looks his way. Never were they returned. He would either be discussing his day with his father, talking to either of your mothers, or focused on the diminishing food on his plate.

There were a few occasions where you thought Paul’s actions were accidental. You would draw your foot back, but when his covered toes found yours once more, you knew it to be another one of his games. It was juvenile and childish, but you found yourself allowing it to happen.

You would take any form of Paul’s touch, so long as it did not compromise too much.

You repeat your philosophy in your mind over and over again like the sayings of the Bene Gesserit whenever Paul approaches you.

You stand in the center of your bedroom in your night clothes. Your curtains are still open, exposing the vast nothingness that the sea presents itself as since the sun has set. The stars twinkle above, and you had already prepared yourself for a night of tracing constellations before Paul entered.

He stands in front of you, dressed just as down as you are. His hair is still a little wet from bathing, and you briefly recount the many times you played with the curls until they began to dampen and eventually dry. Each time, his hair would look unkempt in the mornings, but Paul never cared. He claimed that his hair was just a reminder of the night he spent with you.

You would pretend to be unaffected by his sweet talking, only to flush at the memory of his words later in the day.

“Are you listening to me, my star?” His words pull you from your senseless daydreaming.

“What was that?”

Paul’s lips tug up in the corners as he dips his head for a moment. When he looks at you once more, he takes a step closer.

You knew why he was here in the first place, but the advance of his hand reaching for your waist still has your breath hitching.

“I was wondering if you would let me have a taste of you.”

He stares at you, waiting for an answer. Meanwhile, you are losing yourself as you continue to look into his eyes, analyzing the way his long and dark eyelashes add depth to them for the millionth time.

Eventually, the raise of his eyebrows cue you.

“Paul,” you start with a soft tone, an attempt to keep it neutral. But Paul knows you just as well as you know him. Possibly even better.

He senses the impending rejection woven in just the syllables of his name.

He sighs. He pulls you closer by your hips. He rests his forehead against yours and presses his hands into your lower back.

He says your name. No, he breathes it. His breath hits your lips before you part them. With his next exhale, you inhale. The pattern continues until Paul prepares to speak, but you interrupt him.

“She knows.”

You do not have to specify exactly who you are talking about.

Paul sighs again, this time as if he is defeated.

“Of course she knows. My mother is all knowing, didn’t you know?” He speaks with faux amusement. He’s lighthearted, and the emotion is completely misplaced.

“We can’t go back to doing this, Paul.”

He begins to speak over you, but you continue.

“Paul, we can’t. No. No. It’s too dangerous. It’s too–”

“We can. Yes, we can, my star. Look at me–”

You do as told, removing the touch of your foreheads from the others to look at each other head on once more.

“What are you so afraid of?”

The question is so simple. The answer is, too. It is one you have run over in your head day in and day out since moving in just a few months ago. It is the same response you reminded yourself of whenever Paul would touch you, even if it were just an accidental graze of his knuckles against yours.

The difficulty comes with admittance.

But in the safe confines of your bedroom, with nothing but the moon, stars, and sea as a witness, you open your mouth.

“I’m afraid of losing you.”

Paul shakes his head gently, sending little water droplets flying.

“You will never lose me. You know that.”

“Yes, I will, Paul.”

“No. Why would you say that? We live together now. We’re bound together.”

It takes a moment to wring yourself out of Paul’s touch, and when you do, he keeps his hands suspended in the air without making any attempts to straighten his posture. He looks dejected.

You approach your window, staring off into the distance as you say, “Exactly. We are bound together in ways that will never reach marriage. We cannot get married.”

Paul’s footsteps are near silent as he approaches you.

“Does that mean you cannot be mine and I cannot be yours? What we have will always transcend marriage, my star.”

When you do not bother to respond, there is a resounding thud.

You look to your side to find Paul on his knees before you. You, the bastard daughter, have brought the heir of House Atreides to his knees. Like this, with the low lighting in your bedroom reflecting the highest points of his cheekbones and emphasizing the valleys along the plane of his face, it is easy to remind yourself that Paul Atreides is just as much of a bastard as you.

You two are in this together. Why should you not be together as well?

You are already planning to accept when he begs.

“Please? Just one taste and I will let you be if that is what you wish. You have my word.”

Typically, Paul is a man of his word. When you were kids and you accidentally knocked over a vase, a gift from another of the houses, Paul never told a soul just as he promised. When you had the tiniest crush on Duncan and let Paul in on the secret, he never told. He had given you his word both times.

It is this time when you first are made aware of Paul’s capacity for dishonesty.

Either way, you lift the skirt of your nightgown.

Paul fits between your legs without much difficulty at all. While it may have been a while since you allowed yourselves this delicacy, it is as easy as breathing to return to the routine.

Paul begins to lick and suck at your essence with appreciation derived from deprivation. His hands press into the fat of your backside, either to hold you steady or keep you flush against him. In any case, you are securely pressed against Paul’s mouth and he has no intention of letting you go anytime soon.

You feel similarly, throwing your leg over his shoulder and digging the heel of your foot into the defined muscles of his back. Your hand presses against the glass plane beside you when Paul puckers his lips and sucks along your clit.

The position calls for some maneuvering. You bend your standing leg, then grip Paul’s curls with your freehand, pulling him just a little closer to your center. His tongue has slid down to your hole and bringing him closer has bumped his nose against your clit. The bud catches the ridge of it, and you shamelessly run your hips side to side in an attempt to catch it again. Paul, noticing your efforts, does it for you.

He grabs your ass just a bit tighter, adjusting your robes with one hand before returning to his handfuls, and then he shakes his head just enough to provide the stimulation you were searching for. He dips his tongue into your entrance, brings it back out, and repeats the movement. Coupled with the alternating shake of his nose against your clit, and your recent abstinence, you are close sooner than you would have preferred.

You sacrifice your minute control over him when you free his hair from your hands, and instead imprison the linen fabric of your gown within your grasp. You pull your garb up, scrunching the fabric into your hand to get a look at Paul.

When his eyes are revealed, they are already casted up towards you. They crinkle at the corners as if he is smiling at you, and the shape you feel against your cunt is confirmation. When he peels away from you there is a visible erotic sheen across his lips.

“I forgot how good you taste.”

He speaks to you casually, in a fashion to the conversations of nonsensical small talk you had been subjected to earlier in the day.

For some reason, this makes your head spin.

You nudge your hips back in Paul’s direction and he does not have to be told to return to work.

There is so much slip and slide between your legs that you cannot tell what is your arousal and what is his saliva. The combination of fluids multiples whenever Paul slides a finger in your entrance, slinking it along your insides before he finds the spot. He pays extra attention to it, watching you as he slips another finger in to join it without much time in between.

You have not been aware of the volume of your moans until Paul begins to flick your clit with his tongue, after which a croaky sound slips past your lips and it is entirely too loud for the circumstances.

Your hand slaps over your mouth before you can stop it.

Paul shakes his head, removing his lips from you but not his fingers. He chastises you.

“Don’t do that to me, my star.”

That is all he has to say for you to remove your hand and continue to let the sounds that encourage him spill out.

(Luckily, your sleeping quarters exist further away from the other’s.)

It is only a few more moments before your lower abdomen tenses and an orgasm seizes control of your body without much warning in advance. You grip your robes for stability, press your fingers into the glass of the window, and keep Paul close with your leg wound around his shoulders.

He had no intention of leaving at all. He continues to lick at you, now incorporating a loud slurp that is seemingly intended to clean you up.

When the twitching of your muscles has ceased, both of your feet have rejoined the floor for only a minute before Paul has your legs wrapped around his waist.

He carries you off towards your bed.

“May I continue?” he asks as he lays you on your back at the foot of the furniture.

There is no hesitation when you tell him, “Please do.”

‎

You heard the hushed whispers echoing throughout the hall, spreading information that should have solely remained private to your personal quarters.

"They appear to be close. Too close," came from the voices of your maids, spoken with excitement as the thrill from sharing tales that did not concern them flooded their bodies. Like always, they were in small huddles, bodies curved into each other, their postings abandoned as they assumed that no Atreides would be wandering the halls at this house.

Except you were.

Your lightweight garbs noiselessly tap against your ankle with each careful step, freed from the extensive jewelry you were usually kept in throughout the day. As of late, your mother has been presenting you as a jewel in an attempt to delude the Houses into forgetting that you are a bastard. House Atreides wanted for you to be seen as the potential for great alliances.

Paul was presented the same.

Marriage became the topic of conversation more often, and you and Paul played the parts you needed to.

You played the parts necessary to continue this.

His door is cracked just enough for you to silently slip in.

“They were talking about us again.” The lack of romance within Paul’s greeting words do not matter as much when his hands wind around your hips.

Still, you can’t help but tease him just a bit. Your hands find his shoulders, palms easily gliding back until you can comfortably tug at his dark curls.

“Could you at least tell me you missed me before we dive into Castle gossip? What happened to romance, Paul?”

He smiles at you like he had been expecting you to say something along those lines. He leans in, pressing his lips to your cheeks and then your nose.

“Hello, my love. How I’ve missed you so. I have no idea how I lasted this long without you.” He is exaggerating. It has only been a couple of days since you and Paul last met into the hours of the night.

You scoff and gently slap his shoulders. You do not bother hiding the effect of his words on you.

“I heard the maids talking on my way down here.” You dive into repeating the words echoing around the concrete castle walls, but the way Paul looks at you is distracting you. His green eyes plainly flicker from your eyes to your lips, back and forth, back and forth, with a speed that says he does not want to be caught in the act. His lips, slightly chapped but no less appealing, are parted, allowing his tongue to briefly appear before disappearing back into his mouth.

You let your words taper off.

“You can kiss me, you know.”

He nods once. When he speaks, his voice is a gentle whisper. “I know. I just didn’t want to interrupt you.”

“Luckily I’m done now.”

Paul kisses you with familiarity.

You knew that no matter what, you and Paul would be married off to others. But in your deluded mind, you figured that you might as well have fun while you could. You might as well pretend that Paul Atreides was yours, and you were his, until eventually that would be forced to change.

#celeste writes dune #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x you #paul atreides smut #dune smut #dune fanfic #cw stepcest

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itneverendshere · 1 month

Text

played me like a clarinet - rafe cameron

request: "Desperately-on my knees-begging for a ''She's all that'' from 1999, with Popular Rafe x Reader. Ooouff, and you want that soul crushing heartbreak when she finds out about the bet he had made"

pairing: rafe x smart!nerdy!reader

warnings: angst <3; VERY LONG

wrote this listening to roses <3

Rafe Cameron held grudges better than anyone and his ex was about to witness exactly that.

Fucking Jessica Green liked to think of herself as the queen of their university, the epitome of beauty and popularity. Some real high school bullshit he only fed because he liked her. And then, she went and dumped him for none other than Tyler West, the star player of his rival basketball team. Technically, she cheated on him, sneaking around with that piece of shit behind his back.

The humiliation was killing him.

Rafe wasn't one to take such things lying down; he wanted revenge, and he wanted it badly. He wanted to ruin her life. It wasn’t just enough to ruin her reputation—he wanted to hit her where it hurt the most. And what would hurt more than being replaced? Not just by any girl, but by someone who was everything she wasn’t. It was a genius idea, really. To prove that some loser could easily take her place, with a little help of course.

And that’s when he noticed you.

Kelce pointed you out actually, when they were six beers in and too fucking drunk to think clearly. But it was still a good choice.

You were the complete opposite of his ex, blending into the crowds like it was your superpower. He watched you for an entire hour at the party. You didn’t utter a single word the entire time you were there, only nursing your drink and listening to the other girls on the cheerleading squad speak.

Hell, he didn’t even know you were a cheerleader until that night.

Were you always there? How had he never noticed you before? It was hard to remember when all he focused on up until then was Jessica.

You were practically invisible in comparison to her, always on the sidelines, blending into the background.

You were perfect.

If he could take this overlooked, nerdy girl and turn her into the new queen of the university, it would be the ultimate blow to Jessica's ego. It would prove that she wasn’t as irreplaceable as she thought.

“You really gonna do it?”

He didn’t take his eyes off you, “Oh yeah. ‘M doing it.”

“Nahh, there’s no way you’re pulling this off.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, a cocky grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Kelce’s skepticism was exactly what he expected, and honestly, it made the challenge even sweeter.

“You think so?” he said, his tone light but with an edge of determination. “Watch me.”

Kelce, always the instigator, leaned forward with a smirk. “Come on, Cameron. You really think you can turn that quiet little thing into the next Jessica? She’s cute, I guess, in that nerdy way, but she’s not queen material.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his cool. “She’s got potential,” he said confidently. “Just needs someone to show her how to use it.”

Topper laughed, shaking his head. “You’re insane. This isn’t some movie where the shy girl takes off her glasses and suddenly she’s hot. Jessica had something that can’t be taught.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Rafe pointed out, “It’s all about confidence man. Jessica wasn’t born the way she is now. She learned how to act the part, and I can do the same with her.”

Like a school project, he thought to himself. That’s all you were.

Kelce took a swig of his drink, clearly enjoying where the conversation was going. “Alright, I’ll bite. How much time are we talking here? Because she’s got a long way to go, my guy.”

Rafe tilted his head, considering. “Give me two months. By the end of it, she’ll be turning heads. Maybe even more.”

Topper snorted, setting his drink down with a thunk. “Two months? No way. I’ll bet you a grand you can’t pull it off.”

Kelce laughed, clapping his hands together. “Oh, this is gonna be good. I’m in. A grand says you can’t turn her into the hottest girl in school.”

Rafe’s eyes glinted with determination. “You’re on,” he said, without hesitation. “In a month or two, you’ll be handing me that fucking cash, and she’ll be the one everyone’s talking about. Looking all pretty in my arms.”

Kelce raised his glass. “To Rafe and his miracle project. This is gonna be fun to watch.”

Topper shook his head again, still grinning as he clinked his glass against Kelce’s. “Here’s to you wasting a month of your life on a lost cause.”

He clinked his glass with theirs, the bet sealed.

“You better start saving up.”

This plan was flawless.

It was so good that even in his drunken haze, he could see how perfectly it would play out. The first step was simple: get close to you. Make you feel special, noticed, like you were someone who mattered. Rafe knew how to charm people; it was practically second nature. And with Jessica, it had been easy—too easy. She’d fallen for his looks, his confidence, his golden boy appeal.

The next day, he started showing up at places he knew you’d be. The library, the campus coffee shop, even lingering around after cheerleading practice. At first, he didn’t approach you, just observed.

He had to figure out how to crack the code, how to make you see him without scaring you off. It took a week before he made his first move.

You were sitting alone in the library, surrounded by textbooks and notes. He casually strolled up, pretending to be looking for a book on the same shelf. “Hey,” he said, glancing down at you with a disarming smile. “You’re in my econ class, right? Mind if I sit here?”

You looked up, a little startled, but nodded, shifting your books to make room for him. You probably couldn’t believe that someone like Rafe Cameron was talking to you, let alone sitting with you. But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? To make you feel special, to pull you out of your shell and into his orbit.

He knew he still had to tread carefully. The wrong move could send you running, and he couldn’t afford that.

You kept your eyes down, focused on your notes. He noticed the way your hand shook slightly when you turned the page. Rafe leaned in a little closer, just enough to make his presence known without crowding you.

“You always this buried in work?” he asked casually, pulling out a notebook and flipping it open.

You glanced up, surprised he was still there. “I guess. I have a lot to catch up on.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “I hear you. Econ’s been kicking my ass this semester. You doing okay in it?”

He could tell you were surprised. Probably didn't expect him to know you shared the same class. And he didn't, until last week.

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, it’s… fine. Just a lot of material.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around these supply and demand curves for days. You think the professor’s trying to torture us?”

You smiled faintly, a small victory in his book. “Maybe. It’s kind of her thing.”

Rafe grinned, pleased that he got a reaction out of you. “You mind if I study with you? Might help to bounce some ideas off each other.”

You blinked, clearly taken aback by his request. “Um, sure. I mean, if you want.”

“Definitely,” he replied smoothly. “You seem like you actually know what’s going on, unlike me.”

He spent the next hour working alongside you, occasionally asking questions, but mostly just being there. He didn’t push, didn’t try too hard. He wanted you to get comfortable with him, to see him as someone you could rely on.

“I’m sorry about Jessica.”

The way you blurted the words out told him you hadn’t meant to say it.

Rafe froze, his grip tightening on the pen in his hand. He could feel the familiar anger bubbling up, but he forced it down, keeping his expression calm. This was exactly what he didn’t want—Jessica’s name being brought up, especially by you.

But he couldn’t let you see that.

He looked at you, feigning surprise with a bit of sadness, as if Jessica was just a painful memory he was trying to move past. “Oh,” he said softly, his voice controlled and measured. “You know about that?”

You nodded, eyes wide and apologetic, clearly regretting bringing it up. “Yeah… I mean, it’s all over campus, right? The girls were talking about it in the locker room. I just—I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”

Rafe forced a smile, as if he was grateful for your concern. He leaned back in his chair, letting out a small sigh as if he was relieved to talk about it, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “It’s okay,” he said, his tone gentle. “I guess it’s just one of those things, y’know? We were together for a while, and it sucked when it ended.”

You looked down at your notes, fidgeting with the corner of a page.

“She shouldn’t have done that to you.”

He let out a dry laugh, the bitterness threatening to seep through, but he quickly disguised it as a rueful chuckle. “Yeah, well, people do shitty things sometimes. Guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”

He noticed the way you seemed to relax as if you were relieved that he wasn’t angry. He needed to shift the conversation away from Jessica, and back to you, where it should be. “But hey,” he said, his voice brightening as if he was genuinely trying to shake off the bad memories, “Everything happens for a reason right?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden attention. “Right."

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’re not like everyone else around here. You’re real, y’know? Genuine. I like that.”

Bullshit. But he could see the effect his words had on you. Easy.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, and you looked away, a small, shy smile playing on your lips. “I’m just…here.”

Rafe shook his head, his smile softening, taking on a more sincere tone. “I’m glad I’m getting the chance to see that.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at him with those wide eyes, as if you were trying to figure him out. Rafe held your gaze, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make the moment feel meaningful, even though he knew exactly what he was doing. He was reeling you in, one calculated move at a time.

Finally, you nodded, lips twitching, “Thanks, Rafe."

Oh, you were too perfect for this.

He grinned, leaning back in his chair as if the conversation had lightened his mood.

“Anytime."

It was a perfect conversation, one that made you feel like he was letting you in on something personal, something real. And from the look on your face, it worked.

But inside, Rafe was fuming. Jessica had managed to worm her way into his head again, even indirectly. It was a reminder of why he was doing this in the first place.

He plastered on another smile, picking up his pen and tapping it lightly against his notebook. “So,” he said, steering the conversation back to safer waters, “You think you can help me with this econ stuff? Because I’m pretty sure I’m doomed without you.”

You laughed, the tension from earlier completely dissipating. “Yeah, I think I can manage that.”

As you both turned your attention back to your notes, Rafe felt a sense of satisfaction. He was winning that bet on way or another.

Over the next few weeks, Rafe made sure to stick to his plan. Slowly but surely, he worked his way into your life. He was always around, ready with a casual compliment or a small gesture that made you feel noticed, special. He’d walk you to class, carry your books, and offer to study with you whenever he had the chance. He knew how to play the long game, and with every passing day, you were warming up to him more and more.

He made sure to steer clear of anything that might remind you of Jessica or his past. Instead, he focused on building up your confidence, subtly encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone.

He’d invite you to parties, introducing you to his friends, and before long, you were starting to come out of your shell. You even started to dress a little differently—nothing too drastic, but enough to catch people’s attention. The change was gradual, but it was happening, and Rafe could see it.

The first party he invited you to was at a swanky off-campus house, the kind of place you’d only ever heard about but never had the nerve to attend. He had that effect on you—made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you belonged in a world that had always seemed so out of reach.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Rafe said, his voice smooth as silk. You hesitated, biting your lip, feeling out of place just imagining yourself in his world.

“I don’t know… I’m not really into parties,” you admitted.

Rafe grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “I promise I won’t let anything bad happen. Just give it a try, for me?”

His gaze was so earnest, so convincing, that you found yourself nodding. “Okay. I guess I could give it a shot.”

The first party was initially awkward—loud music, people you didn’t know, and a social scene that felt worlds away from where you belonged.

But Rafe stayed close.

The moment you walked in, the loud music and flashing lights overwhelmed your senses. You clung a little closer to him, who noticed and shot you a reassuring smile, his hand resting on the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd. He was different tonight—more confident, more assertive.

“Relax,” he whispered in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re with me. Have some fun, sweets.”

You nodded, trying to loosen up, but the eyes on you—on both of you—were hard to ignore. People were noticing. Whispering. It was exactly what Rafe wanted.

He led you to where Kelce and Topper were already posted up, drinks in hand. The second they saw you, their eyebrows shot up, but they quickly masked their surprise with easy smiles. Rafe kept you close as he greeted them, his hand never leaving your back.

“Guys, this is her,” Rafe said, his tone casual but with a hint of pride. “Told you I’d get her to come out with us.”

Kelce looked you up and down, his smirk growing. “Well, well, Cameron. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Topper raised his drink in your direction, his smile more genuine. “Nice to meet you. Rafe’s been talking you up.”

You managed a small chuckle, feeling the weight of their attention on you. “Nice to meet you too.”

Rafe gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t you grab a drink? I’ll be right here.”

You nodded, grateful for the brief escape, and headed towards the makeshift bar in the kitchen. As soon as you were out of earshot, the easygoing demeanor Rafe had been maintaining with you slipped away, replaced by something more calculating as he turned back to his friends.

“So?” Kelce asked, “How’s the project going?”

Rafe shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “Better than expected. She’s starting to come out of her shell. Still got a long way to go, but I’d say we’re on track.”

Topper leaned against the counter, his gaze following you as you picked out a drink. “She seems… nice. You sure you want to go through with this, man?”

Rafe shot him a look, his expression hardening. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Topper shrugged. “Just saying. She doesn’t seem like the type who’s cut out for this crowd. Might be too sweet for what you’ve got planned.”

Kelce chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s sweet, alright. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? She’s not Jessica. And if he pulls this off, it’s gonna be legendary.”

Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk. “Exactly. She’s perfect for this.”

He said it with confidence, but there was something else in his eyes—something he quickly buried as he watched you make your way back with a drink in hand.

When you returned to the group, his expression softened instantly. He slipped back into the charming, attentive guy he’d been playing for you all night.

“Got something good?” he asked, nodding towards your drink.

You giggled, holding up your cup. “Just punch. Thought I’d start slow.”

He snorted, nodding approvingly. “Smart move. Don’t let these guys talk you into anything too crazy.”

The night went on like that, Rafe playing the perfect gentleman, always by your side, making sure you were comfortable, that you were enjoying yourself. He introduced you to more people, his arm around your shoulders, subtly guiding you through the social maze with ease. And every time you excused yourself—whether to grab another drink or use the restroom—his demeanor shifted. The smile would slip, and he’d share knowing looks with his friends, a silent acknowledgment of the game they were playing.

But you didn’t see any of that.

You saw the guy who made you feel like you were finally part of something bigger, like you belonged. And as the night went on, you found yourself relaxing more, laughing, talking, feeling the walls you’d built around yourself start to come down.

Rafe noticed, of course. That was the whole point. He’d spent weeks laying the groundwork, and tonight was just the beginning. He was getting what he wanted.

But as he watched you laugh at something Kelce said, genuinely enjoying yourself, he felt a pang of something unfamiliar. It was brief, fleeting, but it was there. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was something else. He quickly pushed it aside, reminding himself why he was doing this.

He knew better than to get too comfortable.

He knew his ex wouldn’t stay out of his business forever, and sure enough, she confronted him right before class the next day.

“Rafe, can we talk?”

He didn’t look at her right away, instead shoving his notebook into his bag as if she wasn’t even worth the effort. But he couldn’t resist; he turned to her, keeping his expression neutral. “What’s up?”

Jessica glanced around, making sure no one was listening, before stepping closer to him. Her voice was low, almost pleading. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, playing dumb. “What do you mean?”

She huffed in frustration, clearly not in the mood for games. “Don’t act like you don’t know. She’s a nice girl, I know she’s not your type.”

Rafe couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. “Jealous?

Jessica’s eyes flashed with anger, but there was something else there too—guilt.

“No. You’re just going to use her to get back at me? That’s not fair. She doesn’t deserve that.”

He leaned in closer, his smirk turning cold. “You didn’t think about fairness when you were sneaking around with Tyler, did you? Why should I care about what she deserves?”

"Rafe."

"You only care about your precious reputation, so shut the fuck up."

Jessica flinched, “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I fell in love with Tyler. I’m not sorry about that.”

“Do you even realize what you did to me?” The memory of the last time he’d trusted her flashed before his eyes—the way she’d smiled at him. The same smile she had for someone else, “You don’t get to apologize now. You don’t get to tell me what’s fair.”

Jessica’s expression softened, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m not saying this for me. I’m saying it for her."

"Right, because you care so much about other people, huh?"

"You're being difficult for no reason."

Rafe clenched his jaw, every word she said feeling like a knife twisting in his gut. He wanted to lash out, to tell her that she didn’t get to play the moral high ground after everything she’d done. But instead, he just stared at her, his eyes hard and cold.

“Stay out of it, Jess” he said finally, his voice low and dangerous. “And keep your fucking mouth shut.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as if she’d been expecting this. “Just think about it before you do something stupid."

Without another word, Jessica turned and walked away, leaving Rafe standing there, seething with anger. He watched her go, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Of course, she would act like she gave a shit about you the moment he’s attention shifted from her. She had no right to lecture him, no right to tell him what to do.

This was about revenge, about proving a point. You were just a means to an end, nothing more.

But you made it so fucking hard for him to keep his head in the game.

Every time you smiled at him, every time you thanked him for something small, it chipped away at the cold resolve he had built up inside. He told himself it was just part of the plan, that getting close to you was necessary for the outcome he wanted. But the more time he spent with you, the more he realized that he was enjoying himself.

He didn't even have to put in the effort to influence you. You began to speak up in class, even crack jokes with the other girls on the cheerleading squad. The transformation was happening right before his eyes, just like he’d planned. But instead of feeling satisfied, there was a knot of guilt forming in his stomach. You were changing, yes, but it wasn’t just on the outside. You were starting to trust him, to look at him like he was more than just some popular guy who was doing you a favor. You were starting to care, and that terrified him.

One night, after another party where you had danced a little closer, laughed a little louder, Rafe walked you back to your dorm. The campus was quiet, the stars above bright against the inky sky. You were buzzing with the energy of the night, still talking animatedly about how much fun you’d had. The sound of your laughter, the way your eyes lit up—it caught him off guard.

“Thanks for inviting me, Rafe. I never thought I’d actually enjoy these things, but you make it… I don’t know, easier, I guess.”

Rafe smiled down at you, trying to ignore the way his heart twisted at your words.

“I’m glad sweets. You deserve to have fun.”

You looked up at him, your eyes softening. “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you properly. For everything. You didn’t have to be this nice to me.”

For a split second, he saw you. Not as a means to an end, but as someone he genuinely cared about.

His expression faltered for a moment before he quickly recovered. “It’s no big deal. Really.”

But it was a big deal, and you both knew it.

You had gone from barely existing on the social radar to being someone everyone noticed, someone everyone wanted to be around. And it was all because of him. Rafe had given you that, but he knew he was taking something from you too—your innocence, your trust.

He walked you to your door, his usual confidence wavering as you turned to face him. There was something different in your gaze tonight, something that made his breath catch in his throat.

“Rafe… I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” you began, your voice a little hesitant.

He forced himself to stay calm, even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “Yeah? What’s up?”

You looked down, fiddling with the hem of your top before meeting his eyes again. “Why did you start talking to me? I mean, really. Was it because you felt sorry for me? Or… or something else?”

Rafe’s mind raced, trying to find the right words, the ones that wouldn’t hurt you. He could lie, like he’d been doing all along, or he could tell you the truth, risk everything.

But before he could answer, you continued, your voice softer now. “Because… I’m glad you did. Whatever the reason was. I’ve never felt this… this good about myself. And it’s because of you.”

Rafe swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

Fuck. He’d never expected this, never thought that you would be the one to make him feel something real, something that wasn’t just part of his stupid revenge plan.

He’d thought he could control this, control you, but it was slipping through his fingers. He stepped closer to you, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’ve always been amazing,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse. “I just… I just helped you see it.”

You grinned up at him, your eyes shining with gratitud. It was too much, too real, and Rafe could feel the walls he’d carefully constructed around his heart starting to crumble. You were looking at him like he was someone worth caring about, and for the first time, he felt like he was the one being played.

He couldn’t let you get any closer. If you did, he wouldn’t be able to follow through with his plan.

But pushing you away now, after all the effort he’d put in, would raise too many questions. So, he did the only thing he could think of—he leaned down and kissed you.

It was gentle at first, testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull away, he deepened it, his hand cradling the back of your head as if you were something fragile. Your lips were soft against his, and for a moment, Rafe let himself forget why he was doing this. He let himself enjoy the warmth of your body pressed against his, the way you sighed softly into his mouth.

But then, just as quickly as it started, he pulled back.

The look in your eyes nearly undid him. There was so much trust, so much hope, and it made him want to break something, anything, just to stop feeling the way he did.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmured, his voice rough, as if the kiss had taken something out of him.

You nodded, still dazed, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

This was wrong.

He knew it was wrong. But in that moment, with the way you were looking at him, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He watched you go, waiting until you disappeared into your dorm before he let out a shaky breath.

What the fuck was he doing? He couldn’t afford to second-guess himself now. Not when he was so close to winning and yet, he couldn’t help but feel that he was the one who was losing.

Later that night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Jessica’s words mocked him.

“I’m sorry okay? I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I fell in love with Tyler. I’m not sorry about that.”

He had scoffed at her then, dismissed her excuses as pathetic attempts to justify her shitty behavior.

But now, lying there alone, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was any different. He didn’t plan on feeling anything real for you. This was supposed to be a game, a way to hurt Jessica the way she hurt him. But somewhere along the line, things had changed.

How could he let this happen? How could he, of all people, start to care? He was supposed to be in control, supposed to be the one pulling the strings, not getting tangled in them.

And yet, the memory of your pretty face, the sound of your laugh, the warmth in your eyes—these were the things that lingered in his mind, all the damn time.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow.

The anger and bitterness that had fueled him for weeks were still there, but they were being drowned out by something else—you.

Rafe’s resolve had been wavering for days, but he pushed the guilt aside as he drove to campus the next morning. He was picking you up before class, something that had become a bit of a routine. It was a small gesture, but one that made you smile every time, and Rafe had to admit, he looked forward to seeing that smile.

When he pulled up to your dorm, you were already waiting outside, your bag slung over your shoulder. You looked different from when he first met you—still shy, but with a confidence that hadn’t been there before. It was subtle, but Rafe noticed.

He noticed everything about you these days.

“Hey,” you said as you slid into the passenger seat, giving him that small smile that always made his chest tighten a little. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Anytime,” he replied smoothly, shifting the car into gear. “Ready for another day of fun and learning?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but there was a lightness in your expression that hadn’t been there a month ago. “If by fun, you mean trying not to fall asleep in econ, then yeah, totally ready.”

He chuckled, glancing over at you as he pulled onto the road. “I’m starting to think you secretly enjoy econ. You’re just trying to maintain your cool, indifferent persona.”

You laughed, the sound genuine and free, and Rafe felt that unfamiliar pang in his chest again.

“Yeah, that’s me. The cool, indifferent econ nerd.”

“See? I knew it,” Rafe teased, but there was an edge of something else in his voice, something he couldn’t quite shake.

The drive to campus was easy, filled with light conversation and the comfortable silence that had developed between you two. When you arrived, he parked in his usual spot, but instead of getting out right away, you turned to him, your expression suddenly serious.

“Rafe, can I ask you something?”

He froze for a split second, his mind racing. Had you figured it out? Did you know about the bet? But he quickly forced a casual smile, nodding.

“Sure sweets, what’s up?”

You hesitated, chewing on your lower lip, a habit he’d noticed you had when you were nervous.

“Why did you kiss me?”

Rafe’s heart pounded in his chest. This was the moment he’d been dreading—the moment when you’d start questioning everything. He couldn’t afford to slip up now.

“Why not?” he said, his tone light, but there was a hint of sincerity that even he didn’t expect. “I like you. I like being around you.”

You looked at him, your eyes searching his, trying to find the truth in his words. Rafe held your gaze, doing his best to keep his expression open and honest. After a moment, you nodded, as if you’d decided to believe him.

“Okay,” you said. “I just... I didn’t want to assume, y’know? It’s just... new.”

“Good new, though, right?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, “Good new.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur, with classes, coffee breaks, and more of Rafe’s effortless charm. But that moment in the car stuck with him. You were starting to get closer, to trust him, and every time you did, the guilt fucked with his head a little more.

Later that day, when the two of you met up for a late lunch, he noticed the way you had begun to attract attention from others. Some guys glanced your way, clearly noticing the changes in you, and a few girls even stopped to chat with you—a far cry from the shy girl he’d first approached in the library.

As you two sat down at a table outside the campus cafe, he saw the way your eyes lit up when you spotted someone approaching. It was Leila, a girl from your cheer squad. She waved and came over, sitting down.

“Hey, you two,” she greeted, her eyes flicking between you and Rafe. “Mind if I join?”

“Sure,” you said, scooting over to make room for her. He nodded, keeping his expression neutral, but there was something about the way Leila looked at you that put him on edge.

The conversation flowed easily, with her complimenting you on something you’d done at practice the other day, and you blushing at the praise.

Rafe watched, a small smile on his face, but his mind was elsewhere. He could see how much you were changing, how you were starting to come into your own, and it was becoming harder and harder to justify what he was doing.

When Leila left after a few minutes, you turned to Rafe with a grin. “She’s nice. I didn’t think she even noticed me before.”

“She notices you now,” Rafe replied, his voice quieter than usual.

You looked at him, your smile fading slightly. “Is something wrong?”

Rafe hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “No, nothing. Just... thinking.”

“About what?”

He leaned back in his chair. “About how you’re starting to steal everyone’s attention here. What am I gonna do when you’re the most popular one around here?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon.”

Rafe smiled back, but the guilt was back, stronger than ever. You were starting to trust him, to believe in the friendship he was offering, and it was killing him.

As the afternoon wore on, he found himself more and more distracted by his thoughts. He needed to talk to someone about it, someone who knew the score.

Later that evening, after dropping you off at your dorm, he called Kelce. The phone rang a few times before his friend picked up, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Yo, Cameron. What’s up?”

Rafe took a deep breath, leaning against the side of his car. “I need to talk, man. About the bet.”

Kelce laughed, clearly not picking up on the seriousness in Rafe’s voice. “What, you already feeling bad for her? Didn’t think you’d go soft so fast.”

Rafe frowned, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that. It’s just... I didn’t think it’d be like this. She’s... she’s actually really nice, Kelce. Like, genuinely nice.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Kelce responded, his tone more serious.

“Dude, we all knew she was nice. That’s what makes this so good. You’re flipping the script. Just remember why you’re doing it.”

Rafe let out a frustrated sigh. “I know, but... She trusts me."

And I trust her, he wanted to add, but didn't.

“Look, Rafe, you’re in too deep to back out now. If you quit, she’ll still get hurt, and you’ll look like a fucking idiot. You gotta see this through. Just... keep your eye on the prize, okay? It’s not about her, it’s about Jessica.”

Rafe nodded, even though Kelce couldn’t see him. “Yeah... yeah, you’re right. I just needed to clear my head.”

“Good,” Kelce said. “Now go get some sleep or something. We’ve got a party this weekend, and I wanna see you back on your game.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, man.”

By Friday, the campus was buzzing with weekend plans, and you were in a good mood, chatting excitedly about some party that night. You two were in the cafeteria, grabbing lunch, when it happened.

You were waiting in line for food, and Rafe had stepped aside to check his phone. When he glanced up, he saw a guy approaching you—a guy he recognized from the football team. A sleazy bastard.

The guy leaned in, flashing you a charming smirk, clearly trying to flirt. He wanted to pummel his face to the wall. Rafe watched from a distance as the guy made you laugh, his hand casually resting on the counter next to yours. Too fucking close.

The sight made something twist in his chest, something dark and possessive that he hadn’t expected. He'd never felt like this before. His grip tightened around his phone as he watched, his jaw clenching.

You seemed flattered but a little uncomfortable, your smile not quite reaching your eyes. Rafe could tell you weren’t used to this kind of attention, and it made him feel something primal, something that burned hotter than the guilt. He wanted to go over there, to tell that guy to back the fuck off, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood there, seething, trying to keep his cool.

Scaring you away was the last thing he wanted to do.

When the guy finally walked away, you looked relieved, but Rafe was already moving. He crossed the cafeteria in quick strides, his eyes locked on you, his heart pounding. You spotted him coming and smiled, but it fell when you saw the look on his face.

“Rafe, what’s—”

He didn’t let you finish. Before you could say another word, he was right in front of you, his hand cupping your face as he pulled you toward him.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t like the kiss outsider your dorm. This was different. It was fierce, almost desperate as if he needed to prove something to himself, to you, and to everyone watching. His lips moved against yours with intensity, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling you closer. He didn’t care who was around, who was watching.

All he cared about was you, right there, in his arms.

You froze for a second, caught off guard by the suddenness of it, but then you melted into him, your hands clutching at his shirt as you kissed him back with equal fervor. It was like all the tension, all the confusion, everything that had been building between you two, finally snapped.

Rafe deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, claiming you in a way that left no room for doubt. His fingers tangled in your hair, and you let out a soft moan that only made him kiss you harder, his body pressing against yours like he couldn’t get enough.

People around you were definitely watching now, whispering, some even cheering, but Rafe didn’t care. He didn’t pull away until he was breathless, and even then, he stayed close, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing heavy. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw the way you were looking at him—dazed, flushed, your lips slightly swollen from the intensity of the kiss.

“What... what was that?” you asked, your voice shaky, your eyes searching his for answers.

Rafe knew he should say something, explain himself, but all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss you again. Instead, he just shook his head slightly, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Just couldn’t help myself,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You blinked up at him, still trying to process what had just happened, but there was no mistaking the way your body was responding to him.

He finally stepped back, but kept his hand on your waist, grounding you as he looked around. Sure enough, the guy from earlier was watching.

Rafe caught his eye, giving him a look that said everything without words. She’s mine.

When he looked back at you, he saw the confusion in your eyes and something else—something that looked a lot like longing.

He knew he’d just crossed a line, again, but in that moment, he didn’t care. All he cared about was the way you felt in his arms, the way you looked at him like he was the only guy in the world.

“C’mon,” Rafe said, his voice softer now. “We’ve got class.”

You nodded, still a little dazed, and let him guide you out of the cafeteria, his hand never leaving yours. He was in deeper than ever, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Not when you looked at him like that, not when his heart was pounding like this.

As you approached the building where your next class was, he stopped, turning to face you. He touched your cheek again, his thumb brushing against your skin, and you leaned into his touch.

“Rafe—”

“You’re my girl,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against yours again. “Okay?”

You nodded, your breath hitching as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and trusting. Rafe knew he was on the edge of something he couldn’t control, but as he leaned in for one more kiss, slow and tender this time, he realized he didn’t care.

“Rafe…” you began again, speaking against his lips. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you needed to understand about what you were, what you two were becoming. His thumb traced the curve of your jawline.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered, his voice low, almost reverent. “I just… I need you to know that you mean something to me. This, us—"

“Okay.”

He was already in too deep.

And just like that, he got what he wanted.

The next day, everything seemed to fall into place as if the universe has finally aligned for you. He asked you out, and just like that, you were together.

The next two months were a dream—utter bliss. You weren’t just happy; you were radiant. You’d become the most popular girl in school, and with him by your side, it felt like you were living in some sort of fairy tale.

Every smile he gave you, every touch, every whispered confession of how perfect you were sent you soaring higher. He couldn’t get enough of you—your sweetness, your kindness, your genuine heart. It was as if he was falling more and more in love with you every single day. And you, you had never felt this alive.

But deep down, in a place he didn’t dare acknowledge, there was a shadow, a sliver of guilt that he pushed aside every time he looked into your trusting eyes.

He never officially ended the bet with Kelce and Topper. It was just a stupid game, something that seemed so insignificant compared to what he feels for you now. He told himself that he had forgotten about it, that it didn’t matter anymore.

After all, what you two had is real, right? And you, completely oblivious to the sinister origins of your relationship, continued to believe in the fairy tale.

Until it ended.

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

It’s after cheerleading practice, and you’re alone in the locker room, stuffing your things into your bag. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and body spray, the usual post-practice atmosphere, but there’s something different today—a tension you can’t quite place.

As you’re zipping up your bag, you hear voices nearby, just around the corner. Leila and Jessica, their conversation low but unmistakable. You wouldn’t normally eavesdrop, but something about the tone of their voices makes you pause, your heart suddenly beating a little faster.

"You were right," Leila says, her voice edged with a cruel satisfaction. "About your gut feeling with Rafe and his new girl."

Oh.

Jessica sounds tired, almost defeated. "What do you mean?"

Leila sighs, a dark amusement in her tone. "Kelce spilled everything when we hooked up last week. He was too high to keep his mouth shut. Rafe’s been playing her this whole time, using her to mess with you. It was all a bet."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you can’t move, can’t think. The room spins around you, the ground shifting beneath your feet.

No. No, this can’t be real.

Leila’s voice continues, completely unaware of the devastation she’s causing. "It's so fucked up. She has no idea. She’s out there thinking he’s her Prince Charming, and all along it was just some sick game."

Jessica doesn’t say anything, but you can’t bear to hear more. You feel like you’re suffocating, your chest tightening as panic floods your system.

Before you know it, you’re running—out of the locker room, down the hall, anywhere to get away from those words, those horrible, soul-crushing words. Tears blur your vision as you stumble outside, gasping for air, for some kind of escape from the nightmare that’s suddenly become your reality.

The ache in your chest doesn’t fade as you bolt from the locker room, tears hot on your cheeks. You don’t know where you’re going, but you know you can’t stop moving. The hallways blur past you as you wipe at your eyes, struggling to catch your breath. Rage and heartbreak twist inside you like a knife, and before you know it, you find yourself standing outside the gym, where the sounds of basketball practice echo through the double doors.

You push through the doors without thinking, your heart pounding in your ears. The gym is full of movement—squeaking sneakers, the thud of the ball against the court, and the grunts of effort as the players practice their drills. But all of it fades into the background as soon as your eyes lock onto Rafe.

He’s in the middle of a play, dribbling the ball down the court with that intense focus you’ve always admired. For a moment, you hesitate, that familiar warmth of seeing him almost enough to make you stop. But then the memory of Leila’s words slams into you like a wave, and the anger surges back, drowning out everything else.

You storm across the gym, your footsteps heavy on the polished floor. Some of the players notice you, their eyes widening in surprise, but you don’t care. You’re beyond caring. The only thing that matters is confronting him, making him face what he’s done.

"Cameron!" you shout, your voice sharp, cutting through the noise of the practice.

He turns at the sound of your voice, surprise flashing across his face. The ball slips from his hands, bouncing away as the other players stop, confusion rippling through the group. You always call him by his name.

The coach starts to say something, but you barely hear him. All you can see is Rafe, standing there, looking at you with those eyes that you once thought held nothing but affection for you.

Now, all you see is a liar.

“What’s wrong baby?” He jogs over to you, his brow furrowing.

You don’t answer immediately, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to hold yourself together.

But it’s impossible.

“Was I a bet?”

His expression changes from confusion to something closer to horror, his mouth opening as if to say something, but nothing comes out. The sound of your voice, trembling with disbelief and pain, seems to have stunned him into silence.

For a moment, you just stare at each other. You want him to deny it, to laugh and tell you it’s all some terrible misunderstanding. But deep down, you already know the truth. You saw it in his eyes the second he turned to face you, that flicker of guilt, that flash of something wildly desperate.

He reaches for you, his voice breaking. "Baby, wait, let me explain—”

“Was I a fucking bet?” you repeat, your voice louder this time, edged with a desperate, frantic energy that you can’t control. You take a step back as he tries to get closer, every muscle in your body screaming to get away from him, to escape the unbearable weight of the truth.

His eyes are pleading, searching yours for something, anything that might make this easier, but there’s nothing. No words, no excuses that can make this hurt any less.

“It started as a bet,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper, but to you, it’s as loud as a gunshot. “But it’s not like that, I swear. I—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

He flinches at your words, pain flashing across his face, but you can’t stop. It’s like all the anger, all the heartbreak, all the humiliation you’ve been choking down is pouring out of you in a torrent, and you don’t have the strength to hold it back. You can see the panic rising in him, the desperation as he realizes just how badly he’s messed up. He takes another step toward you, his hand reaching out, but you jerk away,

“We’re done.”

“Please, just listen,” he pleads, his voice cracking.

“No.”

And with that, you leave.

Rafe’s voice echoes behind you as you walk away, but you refuse to look back. The gym doors swing shut, muffling the sounds of the practice resuming, and you’re left in the eerily quiet hallway, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

The locker room is cold and empty when you push open the door. The scent of body spray and sweat lingers in the air. You head straight to your locker again, hands trembling as you fumble with the lock, desperate to escape. But before you can get it open, the door swings wide behind you, and you know, without turning around, that he followed you.

“Go away,” you say, your voice barely holding steady.

“I can’t,” he says, his voice strained with desperation. “Not like this.”

You spin around, your eyes blazing with anger. “You don’t get to decide that. You used me! And for what? Some sick joke with your friends?”

He takes a step closer, his hands raised as if to placate you, but you back away, your heart pounding. “I know I messed up,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “I know I should’ve told you the truth, but I—”

“But you didn’t,” you cut him off, your voice rising. “You let me believe that you cared about me, that everything was real, and all the while it was just a game to you. You and your friends laughed in my face the entire time, didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t a game,” he insists, his voice cracking. “It wasn't supposed to be like this, okay? This wasn't the plan. I changed. Being with you... it was the only thing that felt real to me.”

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

Rafe looks at you, his expression torn between guilt and desperation.

“It wasn’t a joke. It started as a stupid bet, but I never expected to actually—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I care about you. That’s real.”

For a moment, you see the boy who had made you feel special, who had made you believe in something more. But it's not enough.

“I don’t even know who you are."

You want to believe him, to take solace in the idea that some part of what you had was real, but you can't. You shake your head again, a sob choking you as you turn away from him, your back pressing against the cold metal of the locker.

“It isn’t supposed to hurt like this,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “It’s not supposed to feel like a knife in your chest.”

Rafe takes another step closer, “Please, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “Just give me a chance to make this right.”

"You don’t get to have a chance. You don’t get to pretend this is some kind of love story. You lied to me. You used me.”

You look at him then, really look at him, and all you see is the boy who broke your heart. The boy who turned your world upside down with a single lie. You know that if you stay, if you let him talk, you might be tempted to forgive him. But you can’t.

Not this time.

With a deep breath, you straighten up, wiping away the tears that have stained your cheeks. “I’m done.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads, his voice thick with desperation.

But you’ve made up your mind.

“I mean it. We’re done. I need you to stay away from me.”

The words hit him like a physical blow, and for a moment, he just stands there, staring at you as if he can’t believe what you’re saying.

But then he sees the resolve in your eyes, the finality in your tone, and he knows there’s no coming back from this.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

Without another word, you turn away from him, pushing past the locker room door and walking away. You hesitate for a split second. A small voice inside you screams to turn back, to give him one more chance, but then you imagine the laughter, the cruel satisfaction.

The image of Rafe with his friends, laughing at your expense, sears itself into your mind.

The door slams shut behind him, and he leans against it, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He doesn’t feel victorious. Instead, there’s a hollowness, a quiet whisper in the back of his mind that asks, “What now?” He clenches his fists, trying to silence it, but the emptiness remains.

This time, he doesn’t follow you.

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 month

Text

Natalia VI

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: An opponent gets angry at you

If you weren't so massively pissed at yourself, you could accept that the goal was beautiful.

Playing Manchester City wasn't for the weak, at least for a goalkeeper, and a pass to one of your defenders was intercepted and the shot came in quicker than you could move.

The City player came celebrating straight in your face, really rubbing it in.

That was the first straw.

The second straw came during injury time of the first half.

Another ball slotted neatly past your outstretched gloves.

She celebrates in your face again.

The final straw happens nearer the end of the match.

You save the goal on the line.

It's a near miss for you but you get it.

The City girl, the one that's been pressing you all match, doesn't think you saved it on the line. She thinks it went in.

She gets up into your face about it.

She's yelling something, hands waving around wildly.

Pernille watches anxiously.

You don't like being yelled at. You used to cry as a child whenever she and Magda so much as raised their voices. You used to keep your head down, folding your body in on itself and lowering your head. You used to sniffle for a few moments before bursting into uncontrollable sobs.

Even as Pernille yelled, her heart would break just because you seemed so broken up by it.

Not many people can match your height. You usually tower over everyone but this time you can't.

This girl seems even taller than you as she yells right in your face, jabbing you in your chest.

She's taller but you're stronger.

You square your shoulders, not even moving as her jabs get a bit more aggressive.

Pernille would be annoyed too, she thinks, if she'd already scored two goals, potentially a third and her team was still nowhere near Barcelona's six shiny goals.

Pernille would be angry too if her third shot was saved on the line.

But she'd never try to instigate anything. She would never start yelling at the keeper, trying to get needlessly aggressive.

Emotions run high on those first leg Champion's League semi-finals.

No one wants to go into the second leg with such a large deficit.

But aggression has no place on the pitch.

The girl shoves you back but you still stay strong, simply rocking back on your feet for a moment before righting yourself again.

There's a reason people call you a brick wall.

"Just shove her back," Pernille hears Magda mutter next to her.

"Magda!"

"What? That girl's gone crazy! She won't listen to reason. Fight fire with fire."

Pernille raises a brow. "Our daughter? You think our daughter will be shoving anyone?"

"Our daughter won't," Magda says confidently," But her girlfriend will."

The ref is coming towards the group from the halfway line.

So is Talia.

Talia gets there first.

She wiggles her way between the two of you and you give her the space to do so.

The City player is yelling.

Talia is yelling.

The City player shoves.

Talia shoves back.

They're up in each other's faces and it's like this referee is the slowest ref in the world.

"Go on," Magda murmurs," Get her! Get her!"

"Magda!" Pernille says again," Stop supporting violence!"

"I'm not! Just making sure she gets a taste of her own medicine! It was on the line! It didn't go in! She's just wasting time now."

Thankfully, it doesn't get any more violent than a few shoves and finger jabs but both Talia and the City girl get yellow cards.

The City girl walks off in an angry storm.

Talia takes it on the chin, a devilish smirk on her face and another goal slotted into City's net before the game is up.

"She looked a tad angry," Pernille notes as you amble towards her at the end of the match.

"Emotions are high, I guess," You say with a shrug, eyes darting to the side," Spot in the final up for grabs and all that."

"She was yelling. I know you don't like yelling. How are you feeling?"

You glance at her, shrugging again. "Sometimes, when people yell, I wonder what they'll do if I start crying at them. Like, if they continue to yell then they're an asshole but if they don't...What are they meant to do? Hug me?"

"An apology would be nice," Pernille teases," But, seriously? Are you okay?"

"I'd probably be worse if we'd lost but we didn't. We're in a good position for the second leg. Yeah, it was a good game. I'm okay."

Pernille holds your face in her hands for a moment, staring into your eyes to see if you're lying.

She can see no deceit in them so just pulls you into a hug.

"Yeah," She hears Magda say next to her," She's lucky I'm not playing anymore. Squaring up to my kid like that? I'd have swung at her."

Talia laughs. "I nearly did."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #the big adventures universe

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haetrack · 7 months

Text

tread lightly | lhc

lee haechan x f!reader

wc: 17.6k

warnings: smut (MDNI!), established relationship, sexting, jealously, slight miscommunication, mark is an instigator, quite a few text messages, masturbation, kink discussion, mommy kink, nipple play, handjob, edging, overstimulation, barely there choking, unprotected sex, cockwarming, light exhibitionism, epilogue (kinda), dom!reader, sub!haechan

a/n: this fic has been a long time coming so i’m very excited that it’s out! i would like to thank @ncteez for letting me write a fic based on this post of hers! i hope everyone enjoys reading and let me know if you liked it!

It’s midnight and moonlight seeps through the curtain covered window, covering both you and Haechan. You're laying across his bare chest, your finger mindlessly drawing small patterns on it. You both feel sticky, breaths still heavy, yet no one bothers to get up. You peer up to look at Haechan through your eyelashes and see his eyes closed, with cheeks that are slightly flushed. Although you don’t want to break the peaceful silence of the night, you speak up with, “You take such good care of me.”

His eyes open, which then turn and peer down at you with a shy smile. He lets out a small laugh and wraps his arms around you, successfully entrapping you in a bear hug. You let out a small, “it’s still too hot!” which he ignores, and plants kisses along wherever he can reach. “You know I’m always going to be here to take care of you, baby,” he continues with a smirk, “you took care of me so good tonight, I could only return the favor.”

You playfully push him away from you and lay on your respectful side of the bed, while he sits up and stares down at you. His eyes only show love towards you, something that comes with two years of dating. You reach up and caress his cheek, which he takes as a sign to reach down to give you a kiss. “I hope you do know how much I love you, more than anything ever,” he says a little more seriously.

“Even more than your computer?” you tease.

“Hey! I’m being so serious right now!” he grins, letting you know he’s not genuinely mad.

“I’m kidding,” you say with a laugh, “and I hope you know that there’s nothing and no one else I could love more than you.” You sit up along with him and place a kiss to the tip of his nose. He nuzzles his face along your neck and presses kisses along the soft skin of your shoulder. A few moments pass of you two enjoying each other's presence, you gently ask, “Do you think you’re ready to clean up?” He lifts his face from your neck and nods, “I’ll go get a cloth for us.”

After some rummaging in the restroom, he returns with shorts on and a wet cloth for you. He looks at you, asking for approval to clean you up, and you nod, thanking him quietly. Once he finishes, he tells you to go use the restroom already. You groan out, “I don’t want to, I'm already too comfortable here.”

“I know that you love me so much,” you glare at him, “but I will drag you to that restroom if I need to.” With one last groan, you get up and slowly (and painfully) walk to the restroom. Once you finished what needed to be done, you see him scrolling on his phone, waiting for you. He looked up once he realized you were there, and laughed when he saw you limping.

“Don’t be mean! You did this to me!” You say while poking your finger in his chest. He laughs out loud and brings you down to snuggle against him.

“Don’t care how many times I’ve said this already, but I love you.” He was spooning you, and you felt his words travel past your ear. You don’t have to look at him to know that he’s smiling at the thought of the two of you. You whisper out into the dark night, “I love you too. Goodnight, Haechan.” With the two of you cuddled up next to each other, you fall asleep, waiting for what the next day brings.

Instead of awakening to the familiar light of the moon, the harsh sun forces its way in, even through the curtains. You check your phone for the time, and despite the fact that you slept late, you’re awake at eight in the morning. This isn’t the worst thing ever, considering the fact you have class a little after twelve, but you decide to lay in bed for a bit longer.

You turn over to see your boyfriend sprawled across your bed, his pillow somehow on the floor. You have always made fun of him and his sleeping habits, and he in turn mocks you for thinking how cute he is in any situation. You turn your attention to him, and once again draw patterns on his chest. For a while, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone while running your fingers along his abdomen, waiting for him to wake up.

Even though you’re a patient person, you do have things to do today and classes to attend. You have to wake Haechan up. Your gaze falls back to the hand on his chest, and you smirk to yourself. Your finger circles around his nipple and you lightly pinch it. His body suddenly shivers and goosebumps grow on his skin. His body shifts to grab your hand and just to make a point, you pinch his nipple one last time.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth before he turns towards you. He nuzzles his face in your chest and clings onto your t-shirt. He groggily starts with, “Baby… what d’you think you’re doin’…”

You can barely make out what he said, but you still reply with a giggle. You run your hands along his naked back and he just pushes his face closer to your chest. “Wake up, you big baby. The both of us have class soon.”

Haechan mumbles something incoherent into your shirt and you laugh, pulling him away from you. “Tell me what you have going on today,” you ask, hoping this will get him to wake up.

After a few moments of silence from him, he responds, albeit with his sleepy voice. “I have class later…” a pause, “then Mark wants to hang out tonight with everyone else there, too…”

“Are you going to go straight to his place after class?”

“...I dunno yet. But I’ll let you know what happens…” he mumbles. He’s clearly trying to wake himself up to talk to you, so you continue.

“After my classes, I think— no, I have to head to the library to work on that lab report I was telling you about,” you sigh.

“The one for Chemistry?”

“Yeah… I think I cried like five times thinking about it,” you laugh, worried for the upcoming deadline. “If you don’t end up heading straight to Mark’s after your classes, you can come with me and study.” You smile, knowing that when he’s with you you both get no work done.

He nods, and you pat his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get ready.”

He groans loudly and he grabs your arm to try and pull you down next to him. As much as your body aches to be back in bed with him, you abstain and grab his hand instead. He curls his fingers into yours and brings your hand to his lips to give you a soft kiss there. You return the favor and press a kiss onto his hand.

“Will it make you feel better if we shower together?”

He shoots straight out of bed.

After a shower (that may or may not have included some heavy touching) and a breakfast made by his wonderful girlfriend, he begins to make his way out of her apartment. He helps with the dishes by drying and putting them away, all while maintaining conversation with you. You talk about little things, how his professor might be his downfall, and how you might’ve finally found a main in Smash Bros.

Once you both finish getting ready, you take a quick picture of the both of you to upload on your Instagram story. “Are you trying to show everyone how lucky you are to have the best boyfriend ever in the world?” You scowl at him, and he makes a bunch of weird, high pitched noises and gets close to pinching your cheeks. You laugh and push him away.

“No, but seriously, I have to go now. I’ll see you later?” he asks.

“Yes, please be careful. Also text me your plans after class just so I know whether to wait on you?”

“Of course, Mom.”

“Hey!”

Haechan makes it to his only class for the day. He’s a bit early, so he finds a place to sit before his class starts. He scrolls aimlessly through his Instagram, which reminds him to look at the story you posted of the two of you. He finds it and stares lovingly at it. You look very cute, and he has to remind himself on how to repost another person's story onto his. He captions it with a “me and the gf 🫡” before posting it.

He notices his classmates slowly make their ways into class and decides to get up himself. Haechan takes his favorite spot in the auditorium, the middle back rows towards the edge of the aisle. Once he’s settled in, his infamous professor walks in with a smile on his face.

Fuck. Coding.

After an hour of hearing a new coding technique being taught badly, Haechan’s mind starts to wander. What else to think about other than his wonderful girlfriend who takes up all his thoughts. He could never get mad at you, though. Ever since meeting you, he thinks his life couldn’t get any better.

He remembers the day you met those three years ago. You were both freshmen in college, and you both had a mutual friend, Mark. You had apparently made friends with Mark through a shared Rhetoric class while Haechan has known Mark for most of his life. Apparently, Mark had taken you out to lunch after said shared class and Haechan was in the dining hall at the same time. He saw the top of Mark’s big head and made his way over.

What he didn’t seem to notice was the prettiest girl he had ever seen, sitting right across from Mark, munching on her food. The stupid shit he was about to say to Mark was cut off by the sight of the girl, at the sight of you, and he stupidly stood there. Mark catches onto this and invites Haechan to sit next to him, which he robotically takes the offer.

You introduce yourself to him and offer a handshake. Haechan leaves you hanging for a bit, suddenly all too aware he’s leaving you hanging but his hands are just too sweaty. He quickly wipes them on his jeans and shakes your hand, introducing himself successfully. He’s aware that he’s not the best at meeting new people, but he hopes he can push that aside in order to talk to you.

It works. He feels his shy demeanor melt away, becoming more at ease when he talks to you. Eventually, you both start hanging out without Mark, days spent together learning about one another. He thinks he might literally be in love. What would happen if he confessed? Would you say yes? Would you push him away? He thinks he wouldn’t be able to live without you by his side.

Spoiler alert. He does confess and you said yes. As if you would say anything else.

Interrupting his thoughts, he feels a buzz come from his phone. It’s Mark.

[markly] 12:20, im gonna head over to campus in a bit and get food

[markly] 12:20, after, im gonna be outside ur class waiting for u

[hae] 12:21, k 👍

Not exactly the person he wanted to hear from, but that will do. He remembers to text you the new plan so you can adjust accordingly.

[hae] 12:21, hey baby im going to marks right after class

[hae] 12:21, wish we couldve studied together

[my beloved 🫂] 12:22, aww dont worry abt it

[my beloved 🫂] 12:22, we both know that we wouldve gotten nothing done

[hae] 12:22, laughed at a message

[hae] 12:23, are you still in class baby?

[my beloved 🫂] 12:23, my prof cancelled class last min i was kinda pissed

[my beloved 🫂] 12:23, feeling a lot better now that my bf texted me

[my beloved 🫂] 12:24, more time to think abt u hehe

Haechan smiles at his phone and sends a quick love you before turning his phone off. He tries to pay attention, he really does, but his professor might be quite literally secretly planning on failing him. To save him from his dread, one more buzz from his phone. It’s you again.

[my beloved 🫂] 12:31, sorry for bothering u haechan

[my beloved 🫂] 12:31, cant stop thinking of u

Before Haechan can respond, one picture is sent. You are laying stomach down on your bed, but one thing sets him off. Your tits are almost on full display for him. Covered by a lacy bra that barely helps, he can’t help but feel himself twitch in his pants. Remembering that he is still in this Hell-like class, he quickly shuts off his phone and almost slams it against the table.

He doesn’t pick his phone back up for a good five minutes. He can feel the back of his neck get hot, his cheeks beginning to flush. He’s not sure what to do, so all he can respond to your picture is with a:

[hae] 12:36, fuck

[hae] 12:36, does my baby need me that badly?

He shoves his face in his hands and internally groans to himself. First of all, he’s still in class. Secondly, he can’t even go back and help you because Mark’s going to be waiting on him. Thirdly, he’s trying to will away his boner before he sees Mark to avoid any teasing. One more text is sent by you, something along the lines of i need u, and all he can do right now is ask you not to touch yourself without him there.

He uses that not only as a way to placate you, but himself as well. The only thing in his mind now is how soft and full your chest looked. How much he wants to grope and pull at your boobs. He can feel himself straining against his pants, begging to be touched, begging for you. He tries to focus on the monotonous voice of his professor droning on about how making one mistake can ruin a whole code. While the thoughts of you plague his mind, his professor seems to ruin every good fantasy he’s thought of.

To make matters worse, his professor keeps his students over class time, explaining that the homework must be done right away and be done perfectly. No exceptions. Once he’s dismissed, Haechan tries to see if he can find the nearest bathroom before Mark arrives. Unfortunately, Mark is sitting on one of the chairs outside the entrance, and spots Haechan easily.

“Why does it look like you died then came back to life?” Mark laughs in his face.

“Don’t ask me stupid shit,” Haechan grumbles.

After getting laughed at by Mark (which effectively ruins his mood), they make their way to his apartment. No one really makes a plan of when to hang out, so Mark just tells their friends if they could show up last minute. Everyone always does, because what else would college students rather do than on a Thursday night. Of course, Haechan would rather spend time with you, but he was coerced into hanging out (he’s lying, but it’s always going to be you over them).

After Mark sends a text to the groupchat saying that him and Haechan are already at the apartment, everyone makes their way on their own time. Renjun makes it exactly when he said he would make it, in about twenty minutes. Jeno and Jaemin make their way in a whopping thirty seven minutes with lazy smiles and snacks in their hands. There’s nothing like an unplanned hang out with your friends to talk about random shit.

“There’s a party tomorrow at one of the frats,” Jaemin slowly starts, eyebrows raising up and down.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna try to drag us to a party that you want to go to,” Renjun groans.

“This should be good news for you, I don’t see any bitches on your radar,” Jeno says, with Renjun immediately motioning to hit him.

Everyone laughs at them, and Haechan points and claps at how red Renjun has gotten. Renjun sends glares towards everyone and splutters to come up with an argument for his own sake. “That isn’t even fair! Why am I the only one getting laughed at when Mark and Haechan are sitting right there!”

“I get bitches, I just keep it to myself,” Mark chimes.

“And I have a girlfriend,” Haechan proudly states.

Jaemin takes a jab at Haechan, “No offense to you, dude, but it still looks like you get no bitches.”

“Okay, first of all,” Haechan yells, and everyone groans before he starts again, “you are all jealous of me and the beautiful relationship I have with my beautiful girlfriend.”

Murmurs of sure and I guess fill the room and Haechan feels the need to defend you. He can’t let his friends tell him otherwise, not when you literally made him hard in class just a few hours ago.

“We fuck and love each other at the same time, so that means the both of us are better than all of you.”

They all stare at him in silence for what feels like forever. Haechan can only stand there and awkwardly stare back. It’s not that he feels awkward, but why are they making it awkward for him? It’s silent until one voice speaks up. Mark Lee.

“The only thing I can agree on from that whole thing is the fact that your girlfriend is hot. She has a nice pair of tits.” Before Haechan can process what was just said, Mark adds, “I would genuinely call her mommy.”

Instead of staring awkwardly, Haechan is now pointedly staring at Mark in shock and… anger? Firstly, Haechan didn’t even say you were hot in his mini speech but said beautiful instead. Secondly, why is he even staring at your tits? Those aren’t his to stare at? How long has he been thinking that? Lastly, who the hell gets a mommy kink from staring at a pair of tits?

In Haechan’s daze, everyone is either outwardly or inwardly agreeing with Mark. In Haechan’s peripheral, he sees Jeno shake Mark’s hand. Even Renjun is silently nodding along to Mark’s words. Jaemin stares at Haechan, which then turns into pointing and laughing at him.

“Guys. You… What the fuck is wrong with all of you? You all are horrible people, please tell me you’re joking.” Haechan feels quite literally batshit insane at how all his friends just agreed with one another that you’re hot as fuck. What the fuck. Are they all just staring at your tits without him knowing? Do you know? Do they all want to call you mommy?

Mark starts with a smile on his face, “I am so serious,” he stares up at Haechan with a look that feels like it’s challenging him, “I would call her mommy and let her do whatever she wants with me.”

At his words, Haechan feels something… different… settle at the bottom of his stomach. The thought of you doing whatever you wanted, pushing him to his limits, all while calling you mommy. He feels a weight on his chest and he slightly shivers at the thought. God, he thinks to himself, what would you even do to him?

Jeno laughs at Mark saying, “I didn’t take you to be so submissive.” Mark laughs along with him, “I’m not, but with someone as mommy as her, I would immediately be on my knees if she asked me to.”

Before Mark can say anything else regarding his girlfriend, Haechan cuts them all off with a That’s enough of talking about my girlfriend's tits for the night. He still has that heavy feeling looming inside of him, thoughts running rampant through his mind.

He couldn’t wait to be back at his apartment.

After toughing it out at the library, the Chemistry report was finished. It might not be your best work, but it’s better than nothing at all. Making your way to your apartment, you reminisce on the day you had. Your class was canceled, you had lunch, another boring class, then the library. You focus on the canceled class, which led you to a wonderful chat with your boyfriend.

No matter how long it’s been in your relationship, Haechan always reacts to a nude so nicely, so desperate. It spurs you on at how much he loves your body, how much he loves you, to the point where he gets so worked up that he needs you right there. Even though he couldn’t act on that today, seeing how reacted on text satisfied that need for you.

It surprises you how much he’s opened up to you over the course of time. When you had first seen him on that day you had lunch with Mark, he seemed shy. Mark had briefly talked about him before, how he was always screaming in his ear, so seeing him like that confused you. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and when you shook hands, they were clammy.

You knew from that point on you had to have him for yourself. You wanted to see his shy demeanor melt away while he talked to you. Over time, he showed how comfortable he was with you by clinging on to your side, taking you out to lunch, and making a playlist of songs that reminded him of you. This only solidified how badly you needed him.

And you got him. Through a rushed confession, he explained how he didn’t want to ruin what you both had but he had to tell you how he felt. You immediately told him you felt the same way, and the rest was history. You know him like the back of your hand, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

He treats you well, like a friend, but with love that never seems to leave. You gave him all that you had, all your love, your body, your mind. He gives you back everything tenfold, and he tells you there could never be a time where he doesn’t love you. Those words show in everything he does with you.

Especially the nights with hushed whispers for only you to hear. Where he takes his time with you, taking off your clothes in a pace that makes sense to him. He kisses you softly, his body on top of yours. I love you, he says. You moan out as he drags his kisses down to your jawline, sucking onto a sensitive spot. He continues to trail down your body with his lips, all while hearing you whine out for him.

“Haechan-” your whimper cuts you off, “please don’t tease me.”

He’s down by your navel when he chuckles at you. “I wouldn’t dream of it, baby.” He nuzzles his nose to the seat of your panties, your smell taking the last of his self control. “My pretty baby will let me eat her out, won’t she?”

Who are you to deny him when he asks so nicely?

Your phone dings once you make it home. A text from Haechan.

[hae] 11:08, i’m making it back to my place soon

[my beloved 🫂] 11:08, i just got back to mine too

[my beloved 🫂] 11:09, hopefully i can see u tomorrow

[my beloved 🫂] 11:09, rest up

[my beloved 🫂] 11:09, i have all day tomorrow to spend w you

[hae] 11:09, yes ma’am 🫡

[hae] 11:10, love you baby

You send a quick voice message saying Love you too, and please go to sleep early.

[hae] 11:11, hae loved a message.

So he didn’t go to sleep like you had asked him to. On the car ride back that Jeno had offered him, he couldn’t stop thinking about one thing. You. Specifically, you on top of him, all while he would be reaching out to you, begging for you.

He’s not even quite sure what a mommy kink entails. It’s not that he’s never heard of it- being chronically online almost forces him to hear that word- he’s just not sure what else you do with a mommy kink. He knows he would be submissive and that he would call you mommy, but what else is there to it?

That’s why once he says goodnight to Jeno after dropping him off at his apartment complex, he doesn’t feel guilty for being curious over such a thing. He doesn’t feel guilty when he rushes to his bedroom, grabbing his laptop and ripping off his shirt. He doesn’t feel guilty in finding a pornsite, typing in mommy in the search bar. He doesn’t feel guilty scrolling through all the videos, feeling himself get hard.

He settles for a video titled, Mommy Uses Her Sweet Boy Until He Cries. He watches the video, a man with his arms tied to the bed. He begins grinding his hand against the front of his sweats, a woman walks in and starts giving the man a handjob. He pushes his sweats down hastily, whines and whimpers fill the room, his mommy taking what’s hers. Haechan releases himself from the confines of boxers, his neediness beginning to hurt him.

After a while, the video plays forgotten in the background. Haechan is lost in his own thoughts. He wants you to treat him how he usually treats you. Thoughts of you here, in between his thighs, touching him in a way he can’t imagine. As much as he wishes that was real, it wasn't. He’s stuck in his room, pathetically getting himself off to a kink that was just introduced to him.

He can feel his thoughts melt away, entering a headspace he has never dealt with before. He’s never felt this sensitive while getting himself off. His fist tightens around his tip, which causes him to whimper out. He knew he was more vocal than other people in bed, but he realizes tonight takes the cake. He’s leaking precum, his cock begging to be touched once more.

He manages to open his eyes and refocus on the video. The man in question is currently being edged before the woman brings her hand up to his nipple to toy with him, to which Haechan outwardly moans at the sight. Haechan’s own hand reaches up to his chest and hesitantly pulls at his own nipple. Not realizing how sensitive he could be, Haechan cums on the spot.

Haechan feels as though he can see himself from the outside of his body in a third person view. The image of him, with spurts of his cum across his stomach, one hand tweaking his nipple and the other going to covering his mouth is engrained at the back of his head. If he thinks hard enough, he can feel you sitting atop his thighs doing all this for him, whispering how good he’s been into his ear, how he must’ve been so eager and desperate in order to cum that fast.

After a few minutes of laying in that spot, ears ringing, harsh breaths evening out, he opens his eyes and thinks. Is he… supposed to tell you what he just did? You both never really talked about stuff like this before, but he can’t imagine just springing this on to you. He cringes at the thought, and hesitantly pulls out his phone. He opens up your messages, and he twiddles his thumbs at the side of his phone.

He looks over to his laptop, the video he had been playing had now ended, the video replaying in his head. He bites the inside of his cheek as he types out to you, deleting the message before retyping it again.

[hae] 12:48, can i ask you something?

The next morning, Haechan wakes up hot and sweaty. He’s not quite sure why, not until he can feel himself throbbing in his boxers. With that in mind, he remembers the dream he had containing the both of you. He can’t remember all the details, something along the lines of you on top of him, taking everything you needed from him. Whatever it was, Haechan feels the need to get off again to the thought of you.

He does. The thought of your tits in his face all while getting a handjob was enough to quickly get him off. After washing up, he can feel his face getting hot. He hasn’t been this shy at the thought of you since you both first met. Before he can get too into his thoughts, he remembers that he texted you last night. He may have subtly (read: not at all subtle) asked what you thought of a mommy kink. He doesn’t want to read back the texts, knowing that his messages were all jumbled, adrenaline and giddiness written all over them.

He tries not to get too excited at the thought of it. He scrolls through Instagram to distract himself, but one of your friends just posted a picture of the both of you, your pretty face and tits right there for him to look at. He bites his lips, nasty thoughts of you filling his head. He goes to start up one of his games, but ends up staring at the starting screen. All of his thoughts lead back to you. He realizes he's at his breaking point when he's literally waiting for a message from you.

After laying in bed for an hour straight, you finally decide to get up. Fridays are the days you get to relax, meet up with your boyfriend, and do whatever you both want without worrying about classes. You had mutually agreed at the start of the semester to spend Fridays together because both of your schedules allowed for it. There was never a day you weren’t excited for Fridays to come, always happy to see your boyfriend.

Before you actually get up, you do a quick scan of all your apps. On Instagram, you see that your friend has posted a picture of the two of you, the one that you happened to look super good in. You see that Haechan has already liked the picture, even before you had seen it. You like the post and turn your phone off in order to go and get ready for the day.

You’re not quite sure what it is today, but you feel good. You feel like you could conquer the world with how you look and feel. Maybe it was because of the finished lab report, or maybe just the fact that you’ll be seeing your boyfriend today. If he doesn’t immediately fall to his knees and tell you that you’re the prettiest person he’s ever seen, then there has to be something wrong.

Speaking of Haechan, you remember waking up to one of his texts last night. He had randomly asked about a kink, a very specific one at that. A mommy kink. When you got his first text, you were scared, heart pounding in your chest from such an ominous message so late into the night.

[my beloved 🫂] 01:02, what happened? i was asleep im so sorry

[hae] 01:02, nothing bad dont worry baby

[hae] 01:03, i was just thinking

There was a long pause between his texts. Even if he said that there was nothing to worry about, you can’t help but wonder what he could possibly be thinking.

[my beloved 🫂] 01:14, baby youre scaring me please just tell me what you wanted to ask

[hae] 01:16, i got home and i couldnt stop thinking about you

[hae] 01:16, i wanted to ask about something i might be interested in

[hae] 01:16, would you be interested in dominating me?

[hae] 01:16, and me calling you mommy?

You stare at your screen, letting out the breath that you were holding in. On one hand, your boyfriend did not want to break up with you, which came from quickly assuming the worst. But on the other hand… what?

You weren’t unfamiliar with how submissive men work. Before you met Haechan, you watched your fair share of porn. While most of the contents included what would be considered “vanilla” sex, there were some femdom videos that you watched. You always wondered how it would feel to have someone crying under you, the image of Haechan popping up in your head when you did.

He must have assumed that the pause in your texting was a bad sign, quickly backtracking and apologizing. It was cute, how embarrassed he got as he tried to change the subject. You can imagine him squirming around in bed, trying to push back his fantasies of you while texting. You interrupt him.

[my beloved 🫂] 01:24, i wouldnt mind.

Rereading your texts, you realize how badly you need to see him again.

You text him asking if you should both meet up. You both agree on meeting up in the evening in order to get take-out together, spending the rest of the night in each other's presence. There’s nothing more than you could ask for besides being there besides him, the comfort of his presence bringing you more peace than anything else could.

Even though you were ready for a nice night with him, you prepared yourself. The image of your boyfriend thinking of you, being so interested in being submissive, makes your heart beat a little faster. You bite your lip, wanting to see your boyfriend fall apart under you, wanting to hear his cries. Maybe Haechan has finally rubbed off on you, and you smile at the thought of it.

You spend the rest of the day cleaning up around your apartment, waiting for your boyfriend’s arrival.

Before the sun fully sets, Haechan alerts you that he’s outside. You trot to the door with a smile on your face. It feels like forever since you had last seen him (you fully know it’s been less than a day). When you open the door for him, he’s standing there, gawking at you. You see that his cheeks are lightly dusted pink, his mouth trying to form some words.

When you go to hug him, he feels stiff against your own body before deciding to hug you back. Though you knew that he might act a little different, starting from the picture you sent him to the mommy kink confession, but you didn’t think he’d be like this. It’s nice to see him like this again, and as you move to press a kiss to his cheek, he turns redder.

You both settle in and sit next to each other on your couch. He’s properly talking to you now, but you can see how he’s still a little nervous. In a way, it reminds you of how he acted when you both first met. Shy looks and responses, scratching at his neck, and fidgeting with his hands. You go to hold his hand, pressing a kiss to the top of it, causing him to laugh softly.

You’re not sure if bringing up the texts last night would be any good, you think it’d be better for him to bring it up when he’s comfortable. You don’t want to rush him into anything. Even if you can see how he stares at your lips and chest too hard, you don’t want to start anything he isn’t ready for. You both were here for something else, anyways: food.

“Instead of going to a restaurant, do you want to just go to the convenience store down the street? I’m feeling a little lazy.” Haechan coos at you and presses a kiss to your cheek. You both gather your things to make the small trip to and from. You lock your door and turn to look at Haechan as he reachesfor your hand and holds it. You grin at him, pressing yourself into his side as you walk down the slightly lit up street.

The convenience store is a short trip, maybe only a five minute walk from your apartment. You have a small conversation on your way there over how your day was, his hand still intertwined with yours. But with a stroke of luck, you manage to meet you and Haechan’s mutual friend, Mark Lee. You’re pretty sure Haechan notices him first, and he signals to you of his presence by squeezing your hand tighter.

You look up, and there’s Mark with a smile on his face, waving at the both of you. What you miss though is Haechan’s reaction to him and how Mark looks at you. Before Haechan greets Mark, he lets go of your hand and opts to wrap his arm around your waist. You snuggle into him, and you can hear him call out to his friend.

“Hey guys!” Mark says with a teasing smile on his face, “Feels like forever since I’ve seen you!” and you laugh at him. It’s rare that you see Mark on his own without a friend by his side, specifically, your boyfriend. You and Mark don’t hang out alone as much as you used to, but you still consider him a close friend. After all, he was the one who introduced you to Haechan.

After a few words are exchanged, there’s a pause in conversation that you can’t quite decipher. You see Haechan and Mark eyeing each other, sending challenging looks to one another.

“Alright!” you clap, “Me and Haechan have some cheap food to buy and eat, so we’. See you soon, Markie!” You pat Mark’s shoulder as you walk away and Haechan just nods him off.

“What was that all about?”

“Nothing… but since when did you call him Markie?”

You roll your eyes.

While eating your food, you had asked Haechan if Mark had finally bothered him back. He just laughed and said He has nothing on me! Allegedly, Haechan had beaten Mark too mamy times at Mario Kart to the point where they had a full on argument over how Haechan was somehow cheating. You let out a confused laugh at his words, and Haechan can only say, “The world still hasn’t realized I’m just too good at everything.”

You flick his forehead.

“So you weren’t being all shy because of the picture I sent yesterday? Or even what you texted me last night…?” you tease, sensing how he’s more comfortable. He covers his face with one hand while slight embarrassment takes over. He doesn’t look uncomfortable, but you can sense a shift in his demeanor as he takes in your words. He nods his head, sliding his tongue along the inside of his cheek.

You finish eating and a movie is put on. The movie is fine, but you’re more focused on Haechan. Though you wanted to take things slow, you can’t help but stare at him. You don’t necessarily do anything new, but you just need him close to you right now.

You tuck yourself to his side, burying your head into his shoulder. Being a seemingly innocent action, he gladly accepts your touch. Minutes pass, and he hasn’t moved to do anything besides moving his arm to hold you by the waist. Your neediness seems to take over, as you move your hand to his upper thigh. You can feel him jump ever so slightly, a feeling of satisfaction coursing through you.

Your thumb rubs the inner part of his thigh, and you feel his fingers twitch at your side. You know he gets riled up with needy touches, you’re just trying to see if he wants to do anything tonight. You place light kisses along his neck, a soft whine escaping your lips, begging him to do something.

Clearly having enough of your antics, he grabs you by the hips and places you on top of his thighs. His face is flushed, his eyes shyly looking up at yours. Despite all the times you’ve both been in this position before, it feels like the first. A shy, yet expectant Haechan under you, waiting for you to make a move.

You move to press kisses along the moles on his cheeks, Haechan’s eyes fluttering shut and the feeling of your soft lips on his skin. His hands grip tightly on your hips, encouraging you to continue. You move to the middle of his collarbones, a wet kiss pressed onto the mole there. You lick a stripe up to the mole on his neck, and he lets out a choked moan.

You sit back up, looking down to see his face. He looks at you with a look you haven’t quite seen before. He looks… desperate. Not that he hasn’t been desperate to fuck you before, but there’s a different meaning behind his eyes and his touch. You’re almost reminded of yourself, how you might look under him, begging him to fuck you already, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything…” you whisper out, scared to break the tension you’ve created. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He shifts under you, and you feel his erection press into your thigh. You giggle at him, and he shuts his eyes, groaning to himself. He finally moves, suddenly wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you directly on top of his clothed cock.

“Been needing you all day,” he stifles a moan when he feels you grind yourself onto him, “wanna feel you, wanna show everyone that you’re mine.” You whine out his name and he pulls you into a kiss. It’s messy, tongues sloppily moving against each other. Drool spills past your lips, and Haechan moves to lick it right back up. Your hands move to grip on his shoulders, needing to be grounded.

You need him inside of you already. You’re sure you’ve stained his sweatpants already, feeling yourself dripping with every motion. He seems too focused on what’s happening now though, feeling too sensitive with how much he’s twitching under you. Your hands move up to his hair to get him to get him to refocus, and he lets out a small whimper. You almost miss it.

He looks up at you like you were the one who made that noise. You laugh hard, “So shy,” his hips buck up, “it’s almost like the first time we had sex again.”

You’re sitting on top of him, laughing about how pathetic he looks right now. As much as he wants to laugh it off and move onto the actual fucking, he feels himself become embarrassingly close to cumming. Thoughts of the night before flood into his head, the image of you sweetly whispering in his ear saying how much you want to fuck him is getting to him.

You look almost identical to how you looked in his head last night, and he can feel himself throbbing in his sweats. It all becomes too much too fast, and he quickly apologizes and moves you off of him. You stare incredulously at the sight of him rushing to your bathroom. You hope you didn’t push things too far, letting him be alone before you ask any questions.

He feels so lightheaded, a heavy weight placed onto his chest. You laughed at him, made him feel so small and pathetic to the point where he could’ve cum in his pants right there. Reminding himself of what he did last night, he didn’t realize that he’d get a humiliation kink from it too. He wishes you could wrap your hand around his cock and laugh about how perverted he is from getting off to something like that. He can only wish.

For now, all he can think about is getting himself off before he can face you again. In all honesty, he was fighting himself from getting hard as soon as he saw you. You looked good today, and all the image of your chest flashed through his mind all day. How much he wanted to just take you into your room, push you onto your bed, and fuck you until you cry for him to stop.

Another part of him wishes for the opposite. He can’t help but think of you being the one making him cry. He wants to be under you, feel how your body rides him until he’s the one begging you to stop. These fantasies don’t help his throbbing cock. Despite you being seated in the other room, he figures the only thing he can do now is get himself off pathetically in your restroom.

He slides down his sweats to his midthigh, too impatient and embarrassed to go any further. The front of his boxers are wet from his dripping tip, he squeezes himself through his boxers, a soft whine trying to escape his lips. Realizing you’re still in the other room, he uses his free hand to cover up his mouth. Deciding he probably shouldn’t tease himself, he pulls down his boxers.

His dick slaps against his abdomen, flushed and dripping at the tip. He wraps a hand around the base and begins moving. He feels too sensitive just from the feeling of you on top of him, dangerously close already. His hips begin to buck against his hand, everything feeling like too much and not enough. If he could, he’d ask you to come in and help him cum.

The thought of a teasing smile adorning your face makes a strangled moan come out of his mouth, almost too loud. He can hear you get up from your couch, making your way to your room. He continues to fist his cock, drool slipping out of his mouth and smearing messily against his palm. He feels like a pervert right now, fucking his hand in your restroom.

As if he couldn’t be even more embarrassed, he swears that you’ve stopped in front of your restroom door. The sound of whimpers and soft cries worrying you to where you have to check in on him. He wonders if you’ve put your ear to the door, wonders if you can hear the sounds of him fisting his cock. He can’t help but think if you would call him pathetic, tell him how much he should be lucky that you’re willing to fuck him.

A low moan escapes past his lips and he can hear you gasp on the other side. He hears you run to your room, softly closing the door. You were listening. His body feels numb and strained at the same time. Every muscle tensing, his dick twitching in his palm, begging for release. He imagines you in your room, your thighs squeezing together, getting ready to get yourself off to the sound of your boyfriend getting himself off like a loser.

A familiar feeling sets at the bottom of his stomach, mind going blank from his incoming orgasm. Only thoughts of you fill his mind, his pretty girlfriend being so clueless over his desires. He wonders if you would let him call you mommy right now. At the thought, his body becomes undone. Cum spurts from his tip, shooting all over his stomach and chest. His hand continues to move until it feels too much, having to forcibly stop himself.

He takes a few breaths. He feels gross and sweaty, looking down at himself to see the mess he’s made. He grabs some toilet paper and cleans up his cum. He moves to wash his hands, looking at himself in your mirror. He looks fucked out. His face still flushed, eyes looking droopy. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to approach this, not sure if you both should just talk about it.

All he can do now is sigh to himself, ready to face what you might ask him. He needs to decide on whether he should tell you everything he’s done or push it off until later.

Fuck Mark Lee.

You can hear your bathroom door unclick, nervousness suddenly taking over your body. Haechan must be finished with… what he was doing. You’re not really sure how to feel about it. You know what he was probably thinking of, but you’re not sure why he couldn’t just do it with you. You never told him no, but he was forcibly keeping it from you.

You hear him slowly walk to your door, stopping right before the entrance. After a few seconds, he opens it, not meeting your eyes. You quietly call out his name, which he hesitantly looks up at you. He looks a little shocked, a small blush spreading across his face. You pat a spot next to you on your bed, beckoning him over. He follows, placing himself quite awkwardly next to you.

“Are you… okay?” You ask him.

“I’m fine, I just needed a moment to myself.” He's not looking at you, instead putting his attention to the fingers he’s picking at.

You grab his hand, refocusing his attention on you, “I heard you, in the restroom,” his eyes widen a little, “I thought you were hurt, but I don’t think that’s what you were doing.” You trail off, waiting for him to try to piece together your thoughts. When he gives you a confused look, you continue, “If I was pushing you too hard, or- or rushing you into doing something you weren’t ready for, I’m sorry.”

Once Haechan puts together what you’re trying to say, he immediately denies it. “It really isn’t because of you! You haven’t done anything wrong,” he shouts, “it’s just… I…” You look at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish his sentence. He gives you one last look before he rushes out, “I just didn’t wanna cum too fast in front of you.”

He shuts his eyes in embarrassment, putting his head in his hands in order to shield himself from you. You have to forcefully stop yourself from laughing out loud. You carefully remove his hands from his face, getting him to look at you once more. You cup his face in your hands, your thumb tracing along the moles on his cheek. He nuzzles softly into your touch, you can feel the warmth from his face seep into your hands.

“You don’t have to feel embarrassed,” you chuckle, “it makes me feel good knowing that you found me that sexy.”

He groans when he removes his face from you, “I almost came in my pants because of you,” he places a soft kiss to your thumb, “you did things to me that you don’t even know.”

“Care to tell me what I did to get you so worked up?” You smile, faking innocence in order to hear what your boyfriend thinks about you.

Haechan is silent for a few moments, clearly trying to bring his thoughts together. You try to figure it out yourself. There was the picture, the texts, your teasing. Maybe it had something to do with that interaction with Mark that you didn’t quite understand. Despite all these ideas you’ve come up with, you’re not ready for what he says to you.

“Liked it when… I liked it when you laughed at me.” He mumbles out.

You try not to gawk at him, but it’s damn near impossible to hear your boyfriend tell you that he liked it when you laughed at him. During sex. You laughed at him over how shy he looked, and he liked it? It’s not a mommy kink, but you can assume that’s where it definetly came from.

“Can you explain… what you mean a little more?” You ask.

“Do you want the story in full detail or a quick summary?” He laughs dryly, clearly trying to push his embarrassment away.

“Do a quick summary for me and I’ll ask some questions at the end.” You answer, sitting up a little more straight.

He sighs, becoming a bit more serious with the conversation. After a few breaths, how sort of lied earlier, something did happen between him and Mark. Mark said something about you which made Haechan think differently. He reiterates how these were really good thoughts, but he was just pissed because Mark thought it first. “Also why is he thinking about you when you’re my girlfriend. Tell me he wasn’t clearly trying to get with you before I met you.”

You roll your eyes, Haechan deciding to focus on the smaller issue. You do like seeing him jealous though, especially since this was his own best friend. You’ll pocket that for later though, refocusing on the bigger issue.

“What exactly did he say about me that made you come to your big conclusion?”

At your words, Haechan begins to blush again. He really is acting like how he did at the beginning of your relationship, you think. He’s not really looking at you, and you try to reassure him that he doesn’t have to tell you if he’s not comfortable. This clearly has been bothering him all day, and you assume that this has to deal with his confession from earlier.

“He just… he said that… that he would be submissive if he were with you. He said he’d call you… mommy.” He mumbled the words near the end, but you heard him clearly.

In a hypothetical world where Mark was dating you, he would let you dominate him. So Haechan, probably pissed that Mark was thinking that, thought of himself in that position, and also liked it? You feel warmth spread through your body, thoughts begin to fill your head.

You release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. Haechan takes it as a sign of disgust, immediately backtracking. “I know it seems kinda weird, and I’m not saying that we have to do it now! I just-”

You cut him off, “Why didn’t you tell me how badly you wanted it?” He gapes at you, and you’re honestly quite surprised at your own words. You’re not sure what persona takes over you, but you’re filled with the desire to see this different side to your boyfriend.

Remembering a conversation before you started dating Haechan, before you both even hung out alone together, Mark had told you something about Haechan. At the time, it didn’t seem like it would be too important to your relationship, but now, you might see what Mark meant.

“Did you know that Haechan likes it when girls are mean to him?”

You laugh out at Mark’s words, “Why are you airing out his business to me?”

“It’s not not important! It’s just, like, you need to keep this in mind when you talk to him.”

“What are you saying?” You raise an eyebrow at him, sensing what his words mean in regards to you and Haechan’s relationship.

“Well, you’re the meanest person I know, so that means you and Haechan are meant to be together!”

He’s laughing at you, and you playfully yell at him to stop, shoving him forwards. You feel your face heat up before entering the dining hall, wondering if Haechan told Mark that he likes the way you speak to him. You can feel something stir inside you.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s just that I didn’t know if you-”

“Are you hard?” You cut him off, laughing at how he cowers in front of you. He tries considerably hard to conceal the small whimper that threatens to fall from his mouth, but it slips out. You hear it and smile sweetly at him, “Do you need help with that?”

He nods vigorously and you go to sit comfortably on his lap. He immediately wraps his arms over the expanse of your back, arms moving wildly in order to touch every part of you. You first place a chaste kiss to his lips, then you begin to slowly kiss him. Although he tries to keep up with the slow pace, you can practically feel how impatient he gets. His tongue traces every corner of your mouth, and you can feel drool slipping down past your lips.

When you have to forcibly pull him away from you, there’s a line of spit connecting your bottom lip to the corner of his mouth. You bring a thumb to his mouth to clean him up, giggling at how he looks at you with a daze in his eyes. While you’ve seen your boyfriend look like this before, it has never been quite like this. You set the pace, you have the control, you’re the more dominant one.

“I can feel how hard you are, just from some kissing…” he moans out at your words and you slowly begin to grind yourself on him. His hands instinctively move to grab your hips in order to set the pace, but you pull his hands off of you. “That’s not how it goes. Not tonight.”

He lets out a shaky breath, affected by both your actions and your words. It was somehow so easy for you to slip into this position, while he was the one struggling to tell you what he wanted. The feeling of you resuming to grind down on his dick causes him to whine out, trying to keep his hands at his sides. It feels so different, so messy, so good.

It’s not like you both haven’t been in this position before, but Haechan can feel that he’s extra sensitive tonight. Despite how he came multiple times last night and once more in the morning, everything always feels better when you’re there to help him.

He hears you whispering in his ear, licking stripes onto his throat. Your hands at some point made their way under his shirt, now lightly making scratches over his abdomen. With all of this combined, he feels himself coming close to the edge. He tries to lightly call out your name, but only small whimpers come out.

You look up at him, “What is it?” You already know that he’s about to cum, his hips subconsciously bucking up into you. The drag of his cock against your panties sends shivers up his spine. He can feel how wet you are, dripping through your underwear and letting him grind easier into you. You smile at him and reach for his hands, guiding them under your shirt and to your boobs. Finally allowing him to touch, he recreates all the images from his head last night.

As if he were a depraved man, he licks all over your chest, not caring how messy it gets. You moan out to him, and he gives you everything you want. You look down at him, his hair ruffled up and his eyes closed, suckling on your skin. He’s rutting into you helplessly, fully willing to cum just like this.

You have other plans though. So when he calls out your name in a high-pitched whimper, you pull yourself off of him. He immediately groans, hands moving to pull you back on his aching cock, but you push him down onto your bed. He looks so fucked out, and all that he’s gotten was a few touched. You smile at him, moving towards him to slowly pull off his sweatpants.

You’ve left him in his boxers, his cock straining heavily against them. You press a kiss to his clothed tip before moving up his body, right back up to his pretty face. His round eyes look up at yours, pupils blown out with lust. You smile down at him, your hand moving to hold his warm cheek. He nuzzles into it while you sneak your other hand down to lightly touch his cock

He lets out a shaky breath, shoving his head further into the pillows. You softly call him, and he focuses back on you. You move to kiss him slowly, kissing him deeply as your hand palms over his cock. You can feel him twitching in your hold, can feel how he pants against your lips. You press into his tip, feeling the patch of precum that’s formed as you scoff at him. He laughs, but is cut off when you go down to his balls.

His hips fuck up into nothing, chasing any stimulation. He’s moaning into your mouth, becoming needier with your barely there touches. He whines out, “N-need more, need you to touch me more.”

“But I already am? I’m touching you, aren’t I?

He nods quickly, “I know, but I just- I need to feel you…”

“My poor baby,” a quiet whimper follows, “I think you should just take what you get.” Your fingers move to circle tightly around his leaking tip, which he takes as a sign to begin humping against your hand. He’s quick, trying to quickly get off from all your teasing. He’s letting out small moans, embarrassed with how good it feels.

You can feel how close he is, his eyes shut, hand gripped onto your side as he incessantly fucks into your hand. He’s whining your name, begging for more, begging for you. With a smile on your face, you pull your hand away from him, watching in awe at how he cries out while fucking his hips in the air. You laugh out increduously, and Haechan has to forcibly grip himself at his base in order to stop himself from cumming right there.

“Can’t believe I get to see you like this… never thought that you’d be into something this dirty before.”

He cries out, shaking his head, “I’m a good boy, wanna be a good boy for you.”

You squeeze your thighs together, trying to help the ache you feel. You shush him, pressing soft kisses onto his lips as he moves to grind against your thigh. You press up into him and you can feel how hard he grinds into you, savoring the friction. He’s lost in pleasure, and you can tell by how his tongue moves lazily against you, cock searching for any relief.

Your hand slips under his boxers, finally touching him like he wants. He softly thanks you, bucking his hips up against the tight hold you have on him. Your thumb circles his tip, spreading his precum around to help the glide of your hand. He whines out, feeling too sensitive from being edged. “Slow down, Haechan.”

He just nods, not really hearing your words. His hips move in time with your movements. Eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed, only thinking about the softness of your hand against him. He needs more, needs to feel all of you on him. He moves to grab your hand, moving it to his chest. He looks at you with hooded eyes, telling you everything you need to know.

You’ve always known how sensitive his chest was, but before you could ever do anything, he’d swat your hands away with a nervous laugh. Now, being here, you circle his nipple, indulging in how he twitches in your hold, body shivering against the feeling. “So sensitive, you’d probably be happy cumming like this, right?”

He nods, subtly asking for more as he arches his chest into you, begging for your touch. You pinch his nipple and roll it around your fingers, Haechan shoving his head into your shoulders to hide the embarrassingly loud whimpers coming out of him. He’s leaking all over your hand, slick sounds coming from where you’re jerking him off. “Are you gonna cum? Gonna make a mess all over my hand?”

He’s far gone, feeling his warm breath against your skin as he helplessly fucks your fist. He’s so desperate, right now, taking so much from you when you’re giving him so little. You realize that this is what he’s been wanting all day, waiting for you to put him in his place. His hips begin to stutter against you, and you know he’s about to cum. In awe, you whisper out to him, “Are you gonna cum for mommy?”

He lets out a loud whimper, not even waiting for you to give him permission to cum.

You feel spurts of his cum all over your hand, how he bucks into your fist to ride out his orgasm. You help him, gliding your hand over his length until he whines out from the overstimulation. You chuckle as you pull your cum-covered hand away. Haechan watches in interest as you bring your hand to your mouth, licking up his cum from your fingers and swallowing. He groans before pulling you into one last kiss, tasting his cum on your tongue.

You both lay in your bed, your hands caressing his back as he lets out soft breaths against you, pressing light kisses to your shoulder. You both lay there, enjoying the warmth that your bodies are emanating. His breaths are getting deeper, slowly getting lulled to sleep by your touches. You press a kiss to the top of his head, “You did so well for me, Haechan.”

You can feel him smile against your skin as he falls asleep.

There’s been tension in the air.

Ever since the other night, you haven’t been able to keep yourself away from Haechan. No one’s bothered to make a move since then, the only thing he’s offered you are heavy stares and subtle kisses. Even though you’re supposed to be the one dominating him, it feels more like you’re waiting on him. You wonder if all he needed was one fix of you catering to his thoughts.

You didn’t want to beg him to let him dominate you, it should be the other way around. You aren’t sure how to approach it, not even sure how Haechan managed to tell you. It’s not embarrassing, but you don’t want to do something he doesn’t want to do anymore. If he really wanted it, he would’ve told you already.

Throughout the week, you try to signal to him that you’re ready, that you’re just waiting on him. You press kisses along his shoulder while he’s gaming, you rub against him while you’re out, you sit on his lap, hoping for something.

You don’t get it, and you’re sure at this point, you never will.

It isn’t until one day you’re getting ready to go out and eat with him, but this time, Mark has somehow made his way into your plans. You’re not upset with it, but Haechan was trying to usher you away from him. He tried saying that Mark was going to take your food while he wasn’t looking, and would try to make you pay for him, but you roll your eyes at him. Haechan is being too dramatic, but you remember the conversation they had the other night.

He’s jealous. You think you might use his jealousy today to benefit the both of you.

When you eventually meet up with Mark, Haechan has you tightly around his side, puffing out his chest. Mark doesn’t miss the hold he has on you, ignoring it to instead focus on greeting the both of you.

If Haechan never told you about their conversation, you would’ve missed the energy between the both of them. It’s at this point where you realize that the weird stares they sent each other a few nights ago match the ones they’re doing now. They’re challenging each other, Haechan making sure Mark won’t do anything out of line. Mark eventually breaks eye contact with him, turning to look at you instead.

“Just wanted to get some food with you guys. I haven’t hung out with you in such a long time,” Mark grins.

“If it weren’t for Haechan, I would still be going out to lunch with you,” you tease, trying to get a reaction out of Haechan. It works, hearing him grumble out intelligible words as he tries to get you both moving. You’re sure Mark wouldn’t actually do anything to impose on you and Haechan’s relationship, probably just enjoying getting back at his friend after so many years.

It doesn’t feel like that to Haechan though. He can feel his blood boiling watching Mark take all your attention away at the diner. Even if you’re seated right there next to Haechan, all your attention is on Mark, sitting right across from you. He doesn’t know what to do, feeling frustrated that your eyes aren’t on him, your hands not touching him, your mouth on his-

Okay. He has to stop his mind from going in too deep too fast. He tries for about a good five seconds before giving up, all the tension from this week suddenly piling up and becoming too much for him. It doesn’t matter if he’s the one pinning you to the bed or the other way around, he just needs you right now. If only Mark wasn’t here, he would’ve dragged you all the way back to your apartment already.

But he can’t, not with Mark practically taking you away from him at this point. All he can do is shove the last of his food in his mouth as he thinks of what to do. He can’t just tell you he’s horny in front of his literal best friend, so the best he can do is place a hand on your thigh. You’re not phased though, conversation still flowing between you and Mark. He takes out his phone, pretending to mindlessly scroll while he rubs his thumb on your inner thigh.

You don’t seem to mind until his hand trails up higher, your hand suddenly wrapping around his wrist, stopping his trail. You shoot him a quick look, and Haechan sends a smile your way. Your hand moves away while Haechan stares at his still left on your thigh. He gives it a squeeze, feeling how your thigh twitches under his hold. He bites his lips, trying not to get too hasty.

He wants to see how far he can push you until you break, until you pull your attention away from Mark and onto him. He realizes where your line is when he grabs your hand and places it onto his bulge. You push your hand away, swatting at his hands that chase yours. You can see how Mark gives you both a confused look, and all you can do is send him an annoyed smile as you fight with Haechan under the table.

You lean into his ear, whispering, “Do that again and I’ll leave you to cum by yourself tonight.”

Haechan immediately sits up straight.

Mark knows none the wiser of what you just said to Haechan, instead laughing at how he’s shut up so fast. You continue talking with Mark as Haechan sits there quietly, his cock hard and straining against his jeans.

Before Haechan knows it, he’s shoved against your apartment door as you kiss him, hands threaded in his hair as he whines out to you. “Shouldn’t even be doing this to you,” you murmur against his skin, “you were being so bad earlier.”

“I would’ve been nice if it weren’t for Mark taking away all your attention,” he huffs out, already out of breath from your ministrations.

So that’s what this is all about, you think. You pull lightly on his hair as you suckle on the mole of his neck, earning a small whimper. The shy and embarrassed Haechan from before is gone, taken over by a desperate and needy Haechan. His hands find your hips, groping at the flesh as he takes what you give him. “Needed you so bad, you don’t even know.”

“I could tell, you were practically begging me to fuck you in the diner.” He bats his eyes at you, grabbing one of your hands and placing it on his bulge again. You smile sweetly at him, lightly tracing the outline of his cock through his pants. His head slumps on your shoulder, falling apart immediately with the light touches you give him. You tease his clothed tip, his hips rutting into your hand to chase more pleasure.

You leave your hand for him to hump against, letting himself fall apart over you. You can feel a small patch of precum form on his pants, swirling your thumb around his tip as he moans out to you. He’s getting to the edge too fast, “Need you to- fuck, mommy, need you to-”

You cut him off quickly, “What was that?”

He looks at you with wide eyes, face flushed and panting as he tries to backtrack. His hands slip from your body as he steps back, trying to explain himself as if you both didn’t already talk about it. You grab his hips and push them flush to yours, “What did you call me, baby?”

Haechan whimpers at the petname, his lips messily pressing against yours as he moans into your mouth. He slots a leg in the middle of your thighs, his hard cock pressing into your upper thigh. “Please, mommy, please fuck me already.”

His neediness is getting to you, feeling his cock hump against your thigh. His voice sounds like he’s almost crying, just from light touching and dry humping. You can feel your own body go hot, moving your thigh up to press harder into his cock. He whimpers out a thank you as he presses harder against you, tongue intertwining with yours.

As much as it’s nice to see him fall apart like this, you’d much rather see him like this when he’s actually inside of you. You move to pry him off of you, ignoring his whines in order to pull him into your bedroom. He messily slips his pants off as he moves to the bed, laying back against your pillows as you watch him. You peel off your shirt and bottoms, sitting at the foot of the bed, eyeing your boyfriend.

You realize how much you like seeing him like this. He looks so soft, so pliant under your control despite how bratty he was being earlier. You can only assume he’s like this because of how much he loves you, your heart pounding in your chest at the realization. You send a small smile his way, hand moving to cradle his face as he nuzzles into your touch. “I can’t believe how you were hiding this from me, didn’t know how much you needed me.”

He hums along to your words, hand grabbing your wrist as he rubs his thumb along your skin. It all feels sweet, if only it weren’t for how his cock is straining against his boxers. You ignore it, moving to place yourself on top of him, one thigh in between his legs as you kiss him softly. At first, he melts in your touch, taking it all in. In about thirty seconds, you can tell how impatient he’s getting.

You can feel him squirm under you, his cock subtly grinding into your thigh. You continue to ignore him, pressing kisses all over the moles on his face. His eyes are shut, heavy breaths fanning across your face as he tries to hold himself together. You wait for him to unravel, wait for him to beg out to you. You want to know that he needs you.

All it takes are a few more kisses and a few more seconds of him humping your thigh before he gives in, “Just- can you… can you please touch me, mommy?”

His eyelashes bat at you, and you flash a sickly sweet smile at him. You slowly move yourself down, pulling up his shirt to expose his chest and stomach. You kiss all over where you can reach, hearing how he lets out a small whine when you get close to his nipples. “Would my baby mind me touching his chest?”

You place your lips over one, sucking lightly onto his skin. He whines, cock pushing against your stomach as you lick all around. You look at him through hooded eyes, looking at how his arm covers his face as he fights through the stimulation. He can feel how you smile against his nipple while your other hand tweaks the neglected one. It’s all too much and all too little, “Please, need you to touch me already. Need you so bad, mommy!”

“Hmm, but I’m already touching you?” you say messily against his chest, “what more do you need?”

He rubs his hand against his face, realizing that he’s never really begged like this before. His mind feels hazy over how fast you were able to do this for him, make him beg and feel humiliated. You are everything he could have asked for. He sucks in a breath when he feels your teeth brush against him, “Just- my cock. Need to feel you touch my cock. Please.”

“All you had to do was ask, baby.” You move further down, tapping his hip to get him to lift his hips up as you take off his boxers. His cock slaps against his stomach, red and leaking at the tip, now twitching at your attention. You ghost your fingertips over his aching cock, loving how he’s already whining. You wrap your hand over his length, thumb moving up to tease his tip, “Mommy wants to see you cum, do you think you can do that for me?”

He quickly nods, “Wanna cum for you, wanna make a mess all over your hand.”

“I’ve got you, my pretty baby.” You tease his tip with the palm of your hand, spreading around his precum. After a few more whines fill the air, you build a slow rhythm of fisting his length. All the sounds that fill the room are Haechan’s whimpers and the slick sound of your hand on his cock. You press kisses to his thighs, feeling how they jump with your touch. You look up to see him fucked out by just your hand, drool slipping out of the corner of his mouth.

You move your hand faster, watching how his hips fuck up into your hand, needing more than what you’re already giving him. One of his hands trails over his body, stopping at his nipple to squeeze at it. His other hand stops at his mouth, his fingers slipping into his mouth as he moans out to you. You squeeze your thighs together, breath getting heavy from just watching him.

You absentmindly tighten your fist around him, his cock twitching in your hold, “W-wait, I’m gonna cum. Can I cum? Need to cum, mommy, please let me cum!”

You frown at him, “Already? Can’t you hold on for a little longer for mommy?”

At your words, he cums all over the tight hold of your fist. Globs of cum land on your hand and on his stomach all while Haechan’s crying out in relief. You sigh out, thumb rubbing over his tip as he yelps in surprise. He tries to reach over to pull your hand off him, but you stop him, “Mommy wants to see how much more you can take, okay?”

Whines fill the air as you quickly move your hand over his length, cum helping the slide over him. It’s messy, slick sounds mixing in with your laughs as his thighs shake around you. His hands try to push against your own while his hips fuck into your hold. Tears threaten to slip from his eyes, his pretty lips open to let cries out. “What’s wrong, baby? Tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.” you say, feigning concern as your hand twists around his cock.

“H-hurts, hurts so bad that it feels good! Please slow down… just- just a little more and I’ll cum!”

“Aw, is mommy not doing a good job?” you say, practically mocking him.

“No! Please keep going, wanna cum again!” You can see tears slip from his cheeks, his face flushed as one of his hands tugs at his hair. You pull your hand away when he tells you he’s about to cum, hearing the loud sobs he lets out as you swat away his hands that try to wrap around his length.

“Mommy wants to hear how good of a job she’s doing, won’t you tell me how good I’m doing, baby?”

Haechan cries out when he feels you softly lick at his tip, your eyes staring up at him in a way he’s seen so many times before. It’s different now though, him genuinely crying out for you to let him cum. His mind is nearly blank, thoughts only being of you looking so nice between his legs. “You… Mommy's doing such a good job, making me feel so good. Just wanna cum, wanna show mommy how good she’s doing…”

With one last kiss to his tip, you look at him and smile, “Is that true, baby?” your hand moves to his pulsing cock, “It makes me so happy to hear you say that. Might just have to reward you, hmm?”

He cries out when you start moving your fist against him, one of his hands moving to hold onto yours, entwining your fingers. It’s cute, him needing your hold to reassure him. You move down to suckle at his tip again, catching Haechan off gaurd as he shoves his cock further into your mouth. He whines at the warmth of your mouth, you tutting at him for going out of line.

You quickly jerk him off, wanting to see him cum, needing to see him fall apart. You’re breathing heavily affected by your own boyfriend. “Cum for me, mommy wants to see you cum.”

He lets go at your words, cum spurting onto your fist, helping him ride out his orgasm. His hand quickly stops yours before you can try moving your fist over him again. You chuckle at the sight, moving up towards his face. You press kisses along his tear-stained cheeks, feeling the heat radiating off his face as he comes down from his high. You thread your hands through his hair, massaging his scalp as he sniffles.

You lean down to his ear, “Don’t you think it’s my turn now?”

“Will you… ride me?” he asks, shyly looking away from you.

You laugh at how cute he is like this, giving him one last kiss before you ask him to undress. He peels off his shirt and boxers, his eyes watching you slip off your bra and panties. He reaches out to you, trying to get you close to him. You smile as you sit right over his cock, sliding your wet cunt over his length. His head pushes back into the pillows as he grinds up into you, savoring the feeling of your slick all over him.

“Mommy’s gonna fuck you now,” a wide grin on your face as you put his tip at your entrance, teasing him as you shallowly let him slip inside you. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, his face scrunched up. You place your hands onto his shoulders as you slide down his length, the stretch sending sparks up your spine as you moan out. Even if you’re the one in control right now, it’s still your boyfriend you’re fucking, his cock almost making you lose focus.

His hands shoot up to your sides, holding onto your hips as you experimentally swivel your hips around his length. He’s holding back his moans, biting down on his lips as you bring yourself back up. Your nails dig into his skin, his length filling you up nicely. You look down at him, his eyes trailing up your chest before meeting your gaze, looking fucked out. “Tell me how much you want this, baby.”

He lets out a shaky breath, “Need you, wanna feel you cum around me. Wanna cum in you so bad, wanna fill my mommy up with my cum.”

At his words, you start bouncing on his cock. You watch his face, flushed out as his hands move to hold onto whatever he can. He gropes at your boobs, fingers teasing your nipples. The only noises in the room are his cries, your moans, and the sound of your thighs slapping against his. He’s breathing heavily, eyes watering once more. You realize what’s happening when you feel his cock twitch inside of you, your eyes widening in excitement.

“You’re gonna cum like this? I haven’t even cum yet, but you can’t help it, right? Didn’t know my good boy could be so dirty.”

He cums inside of you, hips moving against yours as you continue to fuck him. You can feel his cum slip out of your cunt, making a mess between your thighs. He’s moaning loudly, his cock softening inside of you. You laugh out at him, “You came so fast, it felt too good, right? I still need to cum,” you pout, letting your hips take over, “you’ll let me cum, yeah?”

You continue to fuck down onto him, feeling his cock twitch despite how much it might hurt for him right now. He’s fucking his hips into yours, crying out at the pain bleeding into pleasure. You rub your clit down onto him, grinding down slowly, “You know, I never thought that you’d ask me to do this. Thought you’d be able to fuck me every single time.”

He nods, not hearing you clearly as he follows your movements, cock hardening inside of you again. His cum mixed with your slick, stickiness all over his thighs as you move on top of him. He’d have it no other way, watching your face, showing him that you’re just as affected as he is. His hand reaches for yours, placing it softly on his throat. He looks at you, eyes begging you to do something.

You let out a shaky moan, feeling his cock twitch inside you when you slightly tighten your grip on his neck. “You’re still surprising me, can’t ever be satisfied with just one thing.”

You tighten your grip, moving your hips faster against him, him letting out little puffs of air. His eyes roll to the back of his skull, a soft whimper leaving his mouth, “I like you so much, mommy. I’d let you do anything to m-me.”

You let go of his throat, nearly toppling over him as you reach to kiss him. He tries to catch his breath between kisses, hands moving to your hips, moving your hips for you as you focus on him. It’s all too much, your love for him and your cunt clenching around him making it much more intense.

“Wanna cum with you, mommy. Wanna feel your pretty pussy cum all over my cock.”

You nod, whining out to him as you bounce on his cock, tightly sucking his cock into you. Your hands reach his nipples, toying with them, silently begging him to cum already. He kisses you messily, moaning into your mouth as he finally fills you up once again. He ruts his hips into yours, trying to get you to cum. It doesn’t take much, curling into him as your orgasm washes over you, Haechan whimpering out from how tight you’re clenching around him.

You’re lying on top of him, breaths heavy as you recover from your orgasm. You look at him through bleary eyes, hands moving to wipe the tears off of his face. You slip him out of you, his thighs shaking as you do. He’s warm, melting into your touch as you sigh at him, “You did so good for me, baby. You were such a good boy.”

He smiles at you, not saying anything else as he wraps his arms tightly around you, pressing your chest against his. It’s like this for a while, listening to his heartbeat in his chest while he traces patterns on your back. It reminds you of the other night, before this all started. You grin to yourself, realizing just how lucky you are to have a boyfriend like Haechan.

He mumbles out, too tired to properly speak, “You take such good care of me.”

It almost makes you cry in a way. Now you know how Haechan feels, to give someone your everything during sex. It’s honest, your love spilling out in everything you do. You felt like you were able to pay him back for all he does for you when you whine and beg. You whisper out, not trusting your voice, “It’s only because you take such good care of me.”

A few moments pass, and you remember, “How did you know what I was supposed to do during sex? Like, choking and all that stuff.”

His eyes closed in embarrassment, “Well, the other night I kinda… got off to… all these porn videos?”

You stare at him in amazement. You really are lucky to have someone like him.

Months have passed since the first time you dominated him.

Your relationship feels almost as if it were new, enjoying how Haechan tells you each of his thoughts. Hours of nonstop teasing him, him whining in your ear to make him cum. Days where he’s pushing your limits, getting off in front of you in order to get your attention. He says he’s willing to try everything that you want, willing to take any pleasure you give him because it’s you.

There is one thing that you want to try.

You know how jealous he gets of Mark when he’d subtly eye you, jealous that someone wants to take his sweet girlfriend from him. Jealous that his best friend was willing to call you mommy. Although he never really brings it up himself, you can tell that he’s quite possessive of you. Nights where he’d beg to cum in you, beg to let everyone know that you’re his proves your thoughts.

Although you think getting pregnant would be a surefire way to get Mark off your back, you think it might be easier to show him up close. You come up with a plan to let Mark see you and Haechan in a way he hasn’t seen before.

For a week, you deny Haechan’s advances towards you. You swat his hands away when he tries to grope your ass. You wear a tank top and tiny shorts around him. You whine and beg for him and once he shows interest, you ignore him. At first, he thinks being blatantly ignored is kind of hot because, of course, he’s like that. At the end of the week, he outwardly tells you he tried jerking off but couldn’t cum because he needed you to do it. Brat.

You decide to make your move after the week has ended. You text him after your class and ask if you could make a surprise visit. He agrees and you make your way to his apartment. You find him sitting at his desk, playing Overwatch with another person. You greet him and plant a soft kiss on his lips. Before you can pull away, he deepens the kiss, hands pushing your face towards him. You chuckle lightly, “Focus on your game, Haechan.”

“Can’t. Not when my baby looks so good today.” You hear a muted gag through his headset, and Haechan quickly tells his friend to shut the fuck up. You laugh at his antics, his arms wrapped around your waist, nuzzling his face into your stomach. You brush your fingers through his hair, and he lightly groans. You untangle yourself from his grip, moving to lay on his bed.

“Who are you playing with?” You ask

“Just Mark. Why?” He responds, a hint of jealousy in his voice when you haven’t even done anything yet.

“I was just wondering…” You make yourself comfortable on his bed.

He hums, resuming his game with Mark. You scroll through your phone, hearing the occasional swearing at Mark for not playing as good. You watch him from his bed, how focused he is on his game, his shorts showing off his pretty thighs, his fingers that tap against his keyboard. You bite your lip, putting your phone down to slowly make your way to Haechan.

He eyes you, smiling at you right by his side. He pats his thighs, silently asking you to sit on his lap. You happily agree, plopping yourself down as he wraps his arms around his back, waiting for another game to start. You sigh, nuzzling your face into his shoulder as you feel the vibrations in his chest from the chuckle he lets out, “My pretty baby, you look so cute right now.”

Before you can reply, you hear Mark speak through Haechan’s headphones. You can’t hear him clearly, but you do hear your name, which puts a frown on Haechan’s face. Haechan quickly tells him to mind his business, telling him to focus on the game that’s about to start. Haechan made this too easy, you think, relaxing into his touch as he begins his game. There’s words being exchanged, and every time Haechan gets a kill, he happily kisses you.

You think there might be a better reward other than a kiss. As the game continues, you begin to shift in his lap, pretending to get more comfortable in Haechan’s lap. You can hear how his hands stutter against his keyboard, quickly regaining his composure, thinking it was an innocent action. You smile to yourself, your boyfriend trying to hold himself back.

It’s not until you softly grind yourself onto his bare thigh, pressing light kisses on his neck. You can feel how hot he’s gotten, not really knowing what to do. It’s when he realizes that you’re only wearing panties under your shirt that he has to mute his mic to look at you increduously, mouth wide open. You say in a breathy voice, “Need you so bad, Haechan, wanna feel you…”

He whispers as if Mark could still hear him, “B-but, I’m still playing my game… and Mark could hear you…”

You can feel his cock twitch against your thigh, “You can be quiet, can't you? I won’t move, just wanna feel you in me.”

His round eyes look into yours as his hands rub against your thighs. He looks like he wants to kiss you, but he’s interrupted by a shout from Mark asking where he’s at. He quickly agrees to your words, pressing a quick kiss on your lips before unmuting his mic, asking Mark to once again mind his business.

You start your ministrations on him, rubbing the tent in his shorts, feeling how his cock grows under your touch. He bites his lips, trying to concentrate on his game, but getting distracted by your touch. He can feel how wet you are on his thigh, mind almost falling apart from how much you’re enjoying this. He shifts his hips once he’s hard, begging you to pull down his shorts.

He lifts his hips, helping you pull them down and seeing how he was wearing no boxers under his shorts. You eye his face, watching the pretty blush form on his face at your realization. You push one side of his headphones off of his ear as you whisper, “Gonna put it in now.”

His eyes move away from his screen as you pull your panties aside, teasing his tip along your slit before putting it at your entrance. You watch as he mouths out a please, his eyes fluttering shut as you slide yourself down his cock. You can feel how his thighs shake under yours as you sit down on him, holding himself back from bucking up into your heat. He can feel how warm and wet your walls are, your slick dripping down his cock.

He’s twitching heavily inside of you, and you have to hold back a laugh from how hard he’s trying right now. He has to stop whimpers from falling out of his mouth even if you’re not doing anything. You swirl your hips a bit, causing Haechan to let out a small whine as he ruts into you. You quickly mute his mic for him, hearing how Mark protests on the other end, “If you get some kills, I’ll start moving. If not, I’ll just sit here waiting for you. Is that alright, baby?”

He nods, lurching forward once more to kiss you messily. You laugh, motioning him to unmute his mic. You press your finger against your lips, reminding him one last time to be quiet. A shaky hand reaches to his mic, quickly answering Mark’s concerns, “It-it was nothing, I just hit my elbow on the desk.”

Another game starts, signaled by Haechan’s fingers against his keyboard. You continue your kisses on his neck, your tongue licking up his neck to his jaw. You can feel him shudder as his cock twitches inside of you. He tries to buck up into you, but you press down on his hips with your hands, stopping his movements. His eyes find yours, practically begging you to do something. You just smile, reminding him about the promise you made with him.

He bites his lip once more as he focuses on his screen, hearing the clicking of his keys. There are jumbled sounds coming from Mark’s end, apparently telling Haechan to hurry up. You can tell Haechan gets frustrated with him as he properly moves up, focusing on his screen to stop Mark from saying anything else. When you hear a ding from his headphones, saying how he’s gotten a kill, you begin to grind down on his cock.

He lets out the smallest whimper, hips pushing into yours as he shuts his eyes, trying to fend off any sounds that might come out of him. He can feel how deep he is inside of you with how slow you’re grinding against him. His hands are shaking, fingers messily moving against his keys. As soon as he starts getting more worked up, you begin to stop, laying forward against his chest.

He wants to start begging for you to move, but with Mark on the other side, he’s scared he might hear him. So he sits there, focusing on his game, trying to get another kill.

“Thought you were good at this game, baby. Making me sit here and wait for you to win,” you say, getting impatient with him. He shakes his head no, and you roll your eyes, “You still have to talk, Haechan. Poor Mark is waiting for you, too.”

Haechan hates how you bring up Mark while he’s literally inside of you. He shifts his weight around, lightly moving you against him. He can feel you clench around him, using every muscle in his body trying not to moan out into his mic. He wonders if that’s what you really want to do, and as he takes a quick glance at you, he sees the small smirk drawn out on your face. He lets out a shaky breath, excitement taking over thinking about what you might do.

After a few more minutes, he can tell how impatient you’re getting. It’s not his fault for missing so many shots, not when you’re tightly wrapped around his aching cock. You press kisses along his skin as your hands trail underneath his shirt, lightly scratching along abdomen. He can feel how you subtly move on top of him, trying to get off along with him.

“Thought you said you were good at video games,” you say a little louder, “if you were, I wouldn’t have to sit here to wait for you.”

Before he can respond, he’s cut off by you placing a hand on his chest, allowing you to sit up. You slide off of his cock, pressing a quick peck on his lips before slamming your hips down onto him. He lets out a loud whimper, hands leaving his keyboard in order to hold onto your sides. You look at his face scrunched up in pleasure, completely overwhelmed by how you’re fucking him.

“Can you tell mommy how good she’s making you feel?”

His eyes look into yours, bleary from the tears that threaten to fall from his eyes. He’s embarrassed and clearly aware of Mark being on the other side. Your hands make their way to his nipples, pinching them harshly, “If you don’t tell me, I’ll leave you here, make you cum by yourself with Mark still on call.”

At the thought, Haechan moans loudly, his words piercing through the air, “Fuck, mommy- making me feel so good! Need you to fuck- want you to- want you keep riding me!”

You can hear a loud, confused sound coming from Haechan’s headphones, but no sign of Mark leaving the call. At Haechan’s words, you put all your energy into riding him. He no longer cares about how loud he’s being, mixtures of whimpers and whines of your name along with the slapping of skin against skin fill the room.

“Sitting so nicely for me, letting me use you like you’re a toy. You like that, don’t you?” You emphasize your words with a quick tug of his hair, his hips bucking up into yours from the pain. As you try to move your hand away from his hair, he moves to keep your hand there, his round eyes asking you for more. How could you deny him?

“Use me as much as you want. Wanna be mommy’s toy forever!”

Drool slips past his lips, whispering out a messy boy as your thumb goes to the corner of his mouth to clean him up. You move your thumb over his lips, pushing past them and into his mouth. His tongue circles around, his moans muffled around you. You see how his eyes practically beg for more and more despite being consumed by pleasure. You can hear how there’s another game starting behind you, clearly hearing Mark still on call.

“Only I can have you like this, right? No one can fuck me better than my pretty boy.”

He nods, sucking your thumb as he begins to move his hips in rhythm to yours. Tears are welling up in his eyes again, your words affirming every thought in his mind. You know how much he likes to be praised, how much he likes being told that he’s doing a good job. You coo at him as tears begin to spill, your cunt clenching around him tightly to where his hips stutter against yours.

“You’re the only one that gets to see me like this. Isn’t that right, Mark?” Haechan removes himself from your thumb in order to moan out at your words, and you can hear how Mark disconnects from the game and from the call.

“Finally,” you moan out, rolling your hips faster onto Haechan, “he was taking too long to get off the call. Probably wanted to see how good I take care of my sweet boy, hm?”

“Yes! You take care of me so good, can’t believe I’m yours. Wanna show everyone that you’re mine!” He’s thrusting into you quickly, his tip hitting your sweet spot. You can feel how his body is shaking under yours, overwhelmed by you taking everything from him.

“Now Mark knows that you belong to me, that I don’t want anyone but you,” you say as you lick up his throat. His hips are stuttering against yours, close to cumming inside of you. You take his hand to your clit, trying to get him to get you off. In a whiny voice close to his, you ask, “Wanna cum with you, won’t you let me cum with my pretty boy?”

He can feel himself fall apart under you, the sight of you on top of him, using him for your own pleasure takes over his mind. He’s not sure what you just said, mind only thinking about you. He nods dumbly, fingers moving sloppily against your clit. He thrusts into you, trying to help you cum before him. He can hear your sharp whine as your face buries itself into his shoulder, and feels how your walls clench tightly around him as you cum.

He lightly thrusts up into you, his cum shooting into you as he whimpers and cries out to you. He’s not sure by how loud he’s being, but by how you move to kiss him, he’s sure that he’s being louder than you. Your tongues messily press against each other as you ride yourselves through your orgasms, feeling how he twitches inside of you. You pull off of him, a small whimper from sensitivity slipping out of Haechan.

“You did so good for me… just wanted to show my baby how much I wanted him…”

His tired eyes are filled with love when he looks at you, “Couldn’t have asked for anything more, love how you treat me. I just… I love you.”

You shyly laugh as you move to kiss him, letting all the love you have for him speak for itself. He holds you by your sides, smiling into the kiss as you giggle against him. There’s nowhere more you’d rather be than right here, enjoying your boyfriend and everything he has to offer you.

It’s not until you’re interrupted by Haechan’s phone ringing, making you both groan out. He begrudgingly picks it up, immediately smiling and showing you his phone.

[markly] 11:48, you guys are FREAKS

[markly] 11:48, YOU KNOW I WAS JOKING RIGHT… ABOUT EVERYTHING I SAID…

[markly] 11:48, KEEP ME OUT OF YOUR BUSINESS PLEASEEE 🙏 (or dont)

You smile as you read Mark’s texts off of Haechan’s phone. Your boyfriend laughs into your neck as he puts his phone down, wrapping both arms around you. You don’t think you’d want this any other way.

a/n: GOD. this was so long for no reason but im glad its out... i always wondered how people could write more than 10k but now I Get It. THANK YOU FOR READING!!!

taglist: @mwahaechz @froggyforyoongi @hrts4doie @jenodreamer

#nct smut #nct fic #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #haechan x reader #haechan smut #haechan scenarios #sub haechan #haechan fic

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ovaryacted · 6 days

Text

WISH YOU KNEW || CH. 1

─ KISS THE GIRL

─ Logan Howlett/Wolverine x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS: Another mundane afternoon rolls around that quickly turns into a new beginning after Logan abruptly meets one of Wade's close friends.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. NO SMUT. Worst! Logan / Variant! Logan. Friends to lovers vibes. Mutual pining. Sexual tension. Close proximity. Flirting. Playful Banter. Kissing. Alcohol Consumption. Profanity. Logan catching feelings. Wade being an instigator. Age gap implied [Logan is his canon age, reader is mid to late 20s]. Reader has an established friendship w/Wade. Descriptions of reader's clothing. Mentions of other characters.

WC: 7.9K

A/N: Super excited to be posting this today, I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I enjoyed writing it despite it taking me a little while. This whole story and first part is an extensive addition to these headcanons I posted a while back. Huge thank you to @ozarkthedog for the proofread and encouragement to finish this project, and shoutout to my baby @joelsdagger for helping me with the aesthetics and vibes of this post. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! <3

NAVIGATION | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT PART | AO3

Leaping into a new reality after everything he’d been through was far from the strangest things Logan had to experience in his incredibly long life. If anything, he was secretly appreciative to be given a second chance, a way to redeem himself from the horrors of his previous timeline and possibly live up to the expectations of his former self.

Though, he imagined things would be much more different. He thought that by now, he’d be living independently with a stable source of income outside of taking odd mercenary jobs alongside Deadpool, of all people. Crashing on the couch of the culprit that brought him into this mess was far from what he wanted, but getting adjusted to this new way of living was taking much longer than he anticipated.

Wade whistled to himself as he stayed busy in the kitchen. Still dressed in his pjs, the pink kiss-the-cook apron was neatly tied around his waist, paired with an obnoxiously crisp chef’s hat. He poured some batter into a flat pan, watching it puff up and sticking his tongue out in concentration as he flipped the pancake, ensuring the edges didn’t burn.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, usually full of playing reruns on the TV and sleeping off the previous night of copious whiskey drinking. The alternative was dealing with Wade’s get-togethers, where his friends stopped by for game night. Logan could, in theory, stay behind and beat everyone at the table in a good game of poker, but having so many individuals in the tiny one-bedroom apartment he was already sharing with two other people and a dog could be overstimulating.

The doorbell ringing disrupted the rarely calm atmosphere, sending the hairs on Logan’s nape to rise. He didn’t think it could be Blind Al coming back home so soon unless her daily walk was cut short. Wade made quick work of the pancakes in the current stack, setting them to the side and striding into the entryway to look through the peephole. Squealing to himself, he gave the grumpy man on the couch one more glance as a warning to behave and swung the door open to let an unknown figure come into view.

In walks a new stranger, someone Logan hasn’t had the pleasure of meeting personally. He was presented to Wade’s inner circle once he was brought into this world, surprised at the diverse group of people who tolerated his behavior longer than he had. Your face was refreshing compared to who he usually saw, and your abrupt entrance captivated him.

He diligently observed how you rummaged through the kitchen, tearing open the overhead cabinets and searching for something he couldn’t quite decipher under your mumbles. You have yet to sense an additional presence in the apartment, and you’re too busy in your quest to take a peek at the couch.

“Where the hell did you put my wine, Wade? I told you to hold it for me, not pop it open.” Your voice cut through the room, hitting Logan’s discerning ears. As strange as it was, he thought the pitch of your voice suited you, or at least what he suspected would closely resemble it.

“Well, happy Sunday to you too, honey bunches. Are you looking for it? Sorry to burst your bubble, but Blind Al drank all of it,” he joked with a devilish grin. There he was again, jerking someone’s chain when given the chance, and yet Logan found himself curious about your dynamic with his roommate.

“Since when did Althea drink wine? I swear if you opened my rosé without telling me, I’m never bringing you anything again,” you playfully threatened as the corner of your lips curled up in a smirk.

A righteous aha! came from you as the bottle manifested in your hand, smiling widely at your successful find. You turned around, spotting Wade in his apron before your eyes moved further to the right, noticing the aged man for the first time since you barged into the apartment. He could see how your pupils dilated at taking him in, the cogs turning in your head as you tried to figure out who he was and his association with Wade.

“Who’s the big guy?” You jutted your chin toward the mutant, forcing Wade to take the initiative to bridge the introduction between you two.

“Ah, him. Yeah, that’s Logan, the Wolverine. Kinda resurrected him as Marvel Jesus and brought him from his timeline into ours after saving the world. Now we’re happily married with a kid,” Wade said with full confidence, another one of his meddling tactics.

“Oh, oh. This is Logan?” You tilted your head to study the man in question, all while he fought the urge to raise an eyebrow. Has Wade mentioned him to you before? “So you two are…”

“No, no we’re not,” Logan finally spoke, quickly rising from the couch to end the dubious dialogue. A pout formed on Wade’s face at his friend’s intrusion, no longer feeding into the delusion that they were somehow more than cohabitants.

“Don’t know what he’s told you, but I’m crashing on the couch since your friend brought me here.” Somehow after the brief explanation of how he got here, it sounded even worse coming from Logan’s mouth.

“Peanut, do not embarrass me right now. I know you’re shy about our true love, but sugarplum here is very much an ally,” Wade lifted a finger at him, more comical than the overall discussion, as Logan sighed in annoyance. He figured he might as well introduce himself properly since he’s gotten this far.

“Logan,” he opened his palm to offer a handshake, catching your name grace your lips as you clasped your hand over his. The squeeze you gave him was reassuring, and he reciprocated in kind, holding your gaze and drawing his hand away.

“I’m guessing how you got here is a long story?” Your eyes dashed to Logan in interest, sparing him the embarrassment of denying the initial claims your mutual friend made without his knowledge.

“Very long.” Before Logan could smack his hand over Wade’s mouth, he closed his eyes, waiting for the raunchy commentary soon to follow.

“That’s what she said!” Wade clapped his hands, receiving a groan from the older man and a chuckle from you.

“You’ll have to tell me about it some time then. I’ll never understand Wade’s quests, all he talks about is who he kills and how much fun he has doing it.”

“Honey, the complexities of the space-time continuum are way too extreme to explain in one sitting. I’m going to need a podcast and a projector to elaborate on it,” while Wade kept responding to you, Logan observed the exchanges between you two, making mental notes as he read your body language.

“I think you’re banned from the tech stores within the tri-state area, but maybe you can try Amazon,” you offered him, the same lively smile popping up once again. “The new season of Love Island USA drops this weekend. Are we still on for our watch party?”

“You must be fucking crazy if you think I will miss this premiere,” he beamed at you, mimicking your expression of delight.

“Then I’ll bring some of those sweet ‘n salty pretzels you and Althea like next time I stop by,” you announced, kissing Wade’s wrinkly cheek to honor the words threaded onto his apron. Your hand hovered over the front door handle, meeting hazel eyes to the right. “I hope to see you around Logan.”

One final glimpse at them, and you were out the door, the silhouette of your shadow no longer in the older mutant’s peripheral. Wade returned to the kitchen to continue cooking his late breakfast, putting strawberries and maple syrup on a stack of chocolate pancakes and cutting into the sweetened heap.

“Is she another one of your friends?” Logan asked, his encounter with a new face birthed a sense of novelty that flickered in his mind.

“Mhm. Met her at a grocery store when I was finding something for Blind Al and kept bumping into her throughout the city. We just became friends, plus Althea loves her, probably because she’s always bringing her sweet treats,” Wade answered casually, his mouth half stuffed with the pancakes he bit into.

“Hmm. So I should be worried about seeing more people entering this apartment?”

“She comes for our religious reality TV and movie nights. It’s no biggy, she’s like everyone else I know. Think of me, but with a brain, and maybe not with the whole ‘immortal’ thing I got going on here,” he clarified, the thought of having to deal with anyone remotely similar to Wade filled Logan with inexplicable anxiety. Yet, all he did was shake his head and cross his arms across his chest.

“Great, the more the merrier.”

“You know, maybe if you weren’t such an asshole, you could actually have friends in this world, or even get laid. But instead, you’re too hellbent on being a grouch,” Wade replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Maybe I’d have friends and get laid if people didn’t think we were fucking all the time,” Logan reacted defiantly, grabbing hold of Mary Puppins and attaching the leash to her collar, getting ready to take her out on a walk around the neighborhood.

“Live in your truth, Wolvie. Be who you are!” Wade exclaimed again, ignoring Logan’s curses as he stepped through the front door to get some fresh air.

Logan held on to the leash with one hand as he walked down the block with Dogpool, taking in the acquainted streets and ignoring the looks that came his way. Thankfully, after being in Wade’s world for a while, the stares have transitioned from hate to mere tolerance, aiding his adjustment. As he turned the corner, his intrigue spiked as he thought more of his brief interaction with you, another of Wade’s friends who will inevitably return for a visit.

Who are you?

Sticking to Wade’s words, you stopped by the apartment more than Logan expected. You’d come by and drop off some dinner and pastry dishes bought on your way home from work when you had the chance, and you shared what you got with Wade and Blind Al. For the most part, you made delivery stops to Wade’s place once every other week, walking into the space with a couple of pans of food and placing it on the nearest kitchen counter. You’d stay for a few minutes talking to either Wade or Althea, giving each of them a friendly kiss on the cheek or the top of their head before heading home.

Logan wouldn’t always be around when you visited the other two, missing you by a few minutes when he would be fulfilling a job or out and about. Still, when he was home, he’d be in the background observing you, talking to everyone while keeping himself at arm’s length. You supposed he had the whole grumpy, mysterious vibe that made him tough to approach. So, instead, you’d offer him a cordial wave and a mutter of his name, at least something that acknowledges him when he was in the same space as you.

Week by week, your face became a regular thing for Logan, mainly on Saturdays when you joined Wade in watching whatever current reality TV show was occupying your attention. The brutish man would be on his way to the local bar when you rang the doorbell, dressed in some comfy loungewear and your tote bag full of snacks.

Logan made it a habit not to intrude on your time with Wade. He was already with him for most of the day, the least he could do was respect your time when granted. That didn’t mean he wasn’t wondering what you were like outside of being friends with his companion.

Eventually, he got his moment.

A Thursday afternoon rolled around when Logan came home from the gym to an empty apartment, a rare occurrence he planned to relish. A note on the fridge from Wade mentioned he was out with Big Al and Mary Puppins doing God knows what, not that he wanted to know nor ask. He took a shower to rinse off the grime from his workout, threw on a ribbed tank and sweats, and headed to the kitchen for a cold beer. Popping the bottle cap off, he managed to take one sip before the front doorbell rang, his eyes squinting at the entrance and internally sighing as his moment of tranquility was interrupted.

Leaving the bottle on the counter and opening the door, he was surprised to find you on the other side of the threshold with a covered tin foil pan, no doubt containing something edible. You were still in your work clothes: a pencil skirt and button-down shirt on your body with heels to match, your purse hanging off one of your shoulders.

“Oh, hey, Logan. Came to drop this stuff off for Wade. Do you mind?”

“Nah, ain’t a problem,” Logan shifted to the side to grant you entry, eyeing the back of your head as you wandered past him and into the kitchen.

“I’m guessing Wade and Al are out?” you asked the man as you handled your business, inserting the tin pan into the fridge and closing it with your hip.

“Yeah. Probably doing something I shouldn’t worry about.” You laughed at that, a light sound that he preserved in the imprints of his consciousness.

“Let’s hope they don’t bring back some cocaine. Lord knows the last thing that lady needs is a sniff of powder.” It was Logan’s turn to chuckle, the rumble of a hum you considered equivalent to a laugh.

“So it’s just you in here?” you said as you placed your work bag on the nearest surface, an attempt to rest your arm from lugging the extra weight around.

“Just me,” his broad shoulders lifted and dropped as he leaned against the kitchen wall. “They’ll be back in a bit. You can wait for them if you want, and I can head out.”

“You don’t need to do that. Do I really make you that uncomfortable?” you raised an eyebrow at him as his features softened at your inquiry.

“Uncomfortable isn’t the right word,” he shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest again, the muscles in his biceps tightening as he did so. “You and Wade, you’re close, were close before I got here. Not trying to bother what you two have going on.”

You hummed then, standing straight on one leg and entering a more relaxed stance. Logan could tell by your body language that you weren’t disturbed or intimidated by him, which he assumed was a good sign.

“Sure, I’ve known Wade and Al for a while, but I don’t mind having you around. You’re a little hard to talk to. Figured you were one of those types who liked to brood in silence, at least from what Wade told me.”

“What exactly did he tell you about me?” Logan contested, looking directly at you when he could.

“Do you want to hear the pg-13 or the explicit version? He had a lot to say. Not sure you’d be too happy about it, though,” Logan’s lips pursed, and his eyebrows furrowed at the thought. Knowing Wade, he probably said more than enough, and everything under the sun that wasn’t true.

“Fucker has a big mouth,” he almost took back what he said until he caught your nod of agreement, easing him a bit.

“He doesn’t know when to stop talking, but I can’t hate him for it. He’s just…honest, maybe a little too honest,” you claimed. “If you’re that worried about what he said, I didn’t take any of it literally. You’ll just have to prove him wrong.”

Logan’s sight bounced to you, curiosity laced in your stare as you glanced at him. For a moment, he was taking another read at you again, debating if you were as trustworthy as Wade makes you seem. He sensed your heartbeat and the steady pulse at your neck, even in pace, without a singular beat missing in rhythm. You were already here, and he reasoned he’d have to get used to all of Wade’s acquaintances sooner or later. Why not add you to the mix?

“Guess so,” his lips slightly turned upwards as his focus remained on you, deeming it acceptable to quit hiding in the background. A beat of silence filled the kitchen, one watching the other and your eyes unmoving from Logan’s face. For a split second, your pulse spiked with an intake of breath and releasing it, shaking you out of the sudden trance.

“I gotta go, but tell the deadly duo that there’s tiramisu in the fridge. You can take a piece too, I know they can be stingy,” you grabbed your work bag and threw it over your shoulder again, heading for the front door and offering Logan one last smile. “Don’t be a stranger.”

There you were, out the door again and off to your place with only the conversation you shared and the tiramisu you brought as proof of your presence. Logan huffed a breath and reached for the beer bottle sitting on the counter, making his way to the couch. He plopped down, sipping away at the lukewarm beverage and throwing his head back along the edge, staring at the ceiling with your words playing on loop in the space between his ears.

Don’t be a stranger.

He tries to deny the slight tug of warmth fluttering in his chest, manifesting into an exhale and a shake of his head, followed by another sip of his drink to wash it down.

He makes sure he won’t be.

Integrating Logan into your established dynamic with Wade and Althea was seemingly effortless. You didn’t make a big fuss about forcing him into joining the weekly TV binging when he was home, but it was nice to hear more of your voice directed at him occasionally. Whenever you stopped by Wade’s place with baked pastries or dishes, Logan hovered in the backdrop, returning your gestures when you threw one his way.

He liked having you around, not to mention the food you dropped off would fill him with a sense of comfort he hadn’t felt in a long time. Once, you handed Wade these red velvet cookies Althea liked from a downtown bakery. Logan side-eyed them munching away at the baked goods, silently judging them for satisfying their sweet tooth to such an extent. His facade was maintained until the middle of the night when Wade and Al were asleep in the bedroom, walking on muted footsteps to finish the rest of the cookies in the pan. He goes back to playing the part of being the nonchalant roommate once the sun rises, pretending to be shocked when Wade starts pointing fingers and gets into a blaming match with the blind woman he shares a bed with.

It was a matter of time before you offered more than just food, keeping the newest member of your friendly circle in mind the next time you decided what to bring to the household. There was a double knock on the door, and Wade was on the other end, waiting for you with girlish excitement.

“Hey, Wadey. Hi Althea,” you wiggled your fingers at the elderly woman. Dropping the pans on the dinner table, everyone gathered around the middle of the apartment, anxiously lingering to see what you had brought.

“Finally, I’ve been waiting for this all fucking week,” Wade approved happily, nudging you by the shoulder. “Show daddy the goods! Come to papa.”

You giggled and unwrapped two tin containers, unveiling baked lasagna and penne a la vodka. You could practically hear everyone’s stomach rumbling at the collective awe of the food in front of them, still warm to the touch as the scent of the meal wafted through the apartment.

“Thought Italian would be good, so I called this restaurant a while ago to set some dishes aside for pick-up. Got devil’s food cake too, I hope you’re in the mood for chocolate,” you voiced, smacking Wade’s hand away that threatened to dip into the pasta.

“Honestly, I think we should get married. You don’t even have to see me at all. As long as you bring me food like this, I’ll give you one kill a week.” Wade’s proposal made you smirk. Though it was tempting, you knew better than to get associated with the mess of his job.

“Don’t want to be a homewrecker,” you gestured to Logan, who rolled his eyes. “I did bring something for the grump, too. Consider it a very late welcome to this world gift.”

He watched as you handed him a paper bag, your fingers wrapping around what appeared to be the neck of a bottle. Logan held the familiar weight in his large hands, peeling back the bag to drag out a nicely sized whiskey bottle, Johnnie Walker, to be exact.

He didn’t realize how high his eyebrows raised at receiving a gift, much less something from you. The food containers did get bigger after Wade complained about somebody eating everything after 24 hours. But knowing you were somehow thinking about him revived that pulse in his chest.

“Thank you,” he said genuinely, russet irises focused in your direction. “Really, this is nice.”

“It’s the least I could do since I’m always coming over here,” you said, appreciating Logan’s kindness and mirroring his grateful expression.

There it was again, the beat of silence that entranced the both of you when you entered the same room. The space between Logan’s ribs ached, a strange and unnerving thumping that carried a wave of unfamiliarity.

“Are we going to fucking eat or what?” Blind Al muttered out loud, disrupting the moment you shared with Logan.

“Aht aht, being greedy isn’t nice, Althea. I’m still pissed you ate the corner piece of the brownies I called dibs on last week,” Wade squinted his eyes as he blamed the elderly woman for a crime she didn’t commit. That was, in fact, Logan.

“Motherfucker, if we stand here any longer, the lasagna will get cold,” Althea criticized, the two bickering amongst themselves beside you. You shake your head in disbelief, going to the kitchen to grab some plates, with Logan following behind to help you bring the utensils and cups.

“You want to stay a while?” The suggestion tumbled out of him without thinking, anxious that he had just shot himself in the foot. When your smile reappeared, his worries passed.

“Yeah, I got time,” you held a few plates, heading to the dinner table to join the others in fighting over the pieces of lasagna.

Logan reached other milestones in your bond over the upcoming weeks when you invited them to dinner at your apartment to celebrate your recent job promotion. He didn’t know why he stressed about which shirt to wear or how to style his hair, wanting to put some effort into his appearance this time. Deciding on a red flannel and a leather jacket, he didn’t say a word when Wade was messing around with wigs to wear for the evening.

After a few threats of slicing Wade’s head off if he didn’t hurry the fuck up, they were on their way to your place. An 8-minute walk around the neighborhood and a buzz of the intercom later, you happily greeted the two men at the front door. Stepping aside to let them both pass, you briefly eyed the breadth of Logan’s back flexing under his jacket as he trekked inside, closing the door behind them.

“Al didn’t come along?” you questioned, half expecting the elderly woman to join you.

“Nope, she’s fast asleep. You know how old people are, strict curfews and powdery smells,” Wade quipped, glancing around the table to see what you had prepared.

“Surprised you don’t have a wig on right now,” you lightly jested, straightening the collar of Wade’s polo and approving of his outfit choice.

“I was deciding between a short bob and a tapered fade when Logan threatened to tear me limb from limb. I think that’s his way of flirting.”

At the mention of the other male, your gaze landed on him as he surveyed his surroundings. Your apartment was nice, small yes, but homey, just enough for one person. The living room consisted of your TV and a plush couch, a colorful blanket thrown over its edge, and a leather armchair beside the windows draped in sheer curtains. Two sets of bookshelves rested on the walls closest to the entryway, a collection of books and knick-knacks filled the shelves, a mix of genres from thrillers to romance to fantasy. He took in the setting of your space one last time before pivoting to face you.

“Sorry, Wilson, but you’re not my type,” Logan replied, his hands digging into the pocket of his jeans.

“He’s in denial and emotionally constipated. Don’t worry, Wolvie. I will wait for you forever, as long as you return home to me.” Logan ignored him, mumbling a quiet shut the fuck up under his breath.

The rest of the night went by smoothly, and Logan used it as an opportunity to learn more about you. Through conversing with Wade, he discovered you work at a media studio further downtown. Initially, you were just a journalist pitching stories that would sometimes be published or given the spotlight. Your promotion now makes you the head of your department, giving you more creative control over the stories you want to be told, something you’ve worked hard to get. In your own words, you were happy that bitch Janice at your office didn’t get the role, and now she will have to deal with you being her superior.

Logan liked how you smiled from ear to ear after being so accomplished, and when he mentioned he was glad it worked out, the way your face lit up wasn’t overlooked.

Munching into the lamb chop you cooked for tonight, Wade retells the stories of the recent mercenary jobs he’s completed with Logan by his side, throwing innuendos and graphic details of his missions between every couple of sentences. You listened to him talk, drinking your wine and resting your chin on your hand, nodding and providing commentary when needed.

At some points in the conversation, Logan would jump in when Wade allowed him to, roping him in to tell you about the cool shit he can do with his claws. Your eyes sparkled at Logan’s words, hanging on to whatever came out of him and holding it close as if it would be the last time you’d hear him speak. He couldn’t bring himself to deny that having your attention on him felt good, and when he let Wade control the dialogue again, his eyes would stay on you for a second longer, sipping on the beer you saved for him.

He hopes you didn’t notice.

Other times, Logan joined you and Wade on the couch for reality TV and movie nights, something he figured would help him become more of a social butterfly. Though he didn’t always understand the current events of 90 Day Fiancé or Love Island USA, you didn’t mind catching him up on the episode that played despite Wade itching to give out spoiler warnings.

You’d be situated between them on the small couch, the popcorn bowl on your lap, and sharing it with Wade, who wore his patterned PJs. Although Logan was relatively quiet while you watched the TV screen, you’d let him take a handful of popcorn, washing it down with a drink to enjoy a somewhat tasteful combination.

What he didn’t expect from you was how welcoming you were of his touch. Of course, given that the couch wasn’t that large, you’d be hip to hip with Logan and Wade on either side of you. The larger man did his best to stay in his corner of the couch and to manspread less to give you space, but you stayed close to him.

Maybe too close.

One night, his arm slipped from its perch on the edge of the couch, dropping on your shoulder and causing you to jolt from the sudden contact.

“Shit, my bad,” he was fast to mutter an apology, but you were just as quick to shake your head, quelling his worries.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind, really.” You were permitting him to leave his arm on your shoulders, and he wasn’t going to say no to that, the heavy bulk of muscle making a new home over the width of your back.

The fleeting touches persisted when you watched Australia for Wade’s sake, suddenly growing fascinated with the main male character and proclaiming Logan somehow favored him. He grumbled, zoning out of the movie and not realizing Wade had fallen asleep within the first hour. It was just you and him for a while until you also dozed off near the two-hour mark, still with 45 minutes left.

Logan had lost track of the plot within the first 30 minutes, so he no longer cared for the film. He focused on your torso, slowly leaning into his body on the couch, gravitating toward his warmth. Instinctively, he moved his arm on your shoulder, bringing you closer so you were flush with his chest, snuggling against the stability of his figure.

Logan swears he could hear a happy hum fall from your lips in the form of a sigh, getting more than comfortable against the man who had become a new addition to your life. If you were awake, he was sure you could hear how hard his heart was beating inside of him, providing a comforting squeeze to your arm to signal he was still here with you.

For the next little while, he’ll enjoy his current position without qualms, and he can imagine just for a second that this was a part of your usual interactions. This is as close as he’s going to get anyway.

“You like her.” Wade’s voice filtered through the static noise of Logan’s channel surfing, settling on a Tom and Jerry episode that played in the background, his head twisting to scrutinize the pain in the ass he called a roommate.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, you know,” he grinned mischievously, “Honey bunches, you have the hots for her.”

The neurons in Logan’s brain fired at rapid speed as he comprehended what his friend was insinuating. Sure, he liked having you around and looked forward to when you stopped by every week to sit on the couch. He ignores how you smell or breathe next to him or how you don’t mind when his arm is on your shoulder. He doesn’t care that you inch the slightest bit closer to him, hip to hip, eyes still on the screen during movie nights. He dismisses how you look at him, how you smile when he’s in your space, and how his heart skips a beat when it happens.

“No, I don’t." He knew he was lying.

“Really?” Wade’s Cheshire smile broadened, dissecting Logan by the minute. “You sure, Logan? Are you sure your stone-cold skeleton doesn’t melt when you graze your fingers together?”

“What is this? Couple’s therapy? Shut the fuck up and drop it.” Logan’s mask was cracking the more Wade badgered him about his suppressed emotions, and frankly, he wasn’t sure how long he could keep the truth from his friend or himself.

“Oh shit…Wolvie, you’re in denial. Are you scared of rejection?” Wade covered his mouth in faux shock, taking Logan’s deep scowl with pride as he hit a nerve. “It’s alright, Casanova, no need to be worried about your unrequited love life. I’ve watched enough episodes of The Bachelor and The Bachelorette to put romancers to shame. I will make this happen.”

“Wade. Drop it.” The threat came out with a paired growl, the mutant’s fingers curling into a tight fist as the skin of his knuckles split to unsheath the blades embedded between them.

“This is now a telenovela baby. Just imagine how much we’d make with you two as the leads. ‘Loving the Wolverine.’ The title is a work in progress, but we’ll revisit that later.”

“Wilson.” Logan’s nostrils flared, the metal claws fully out with a sharp schling. The vein in his forehead bulged as his blood pressure skyrocketed from his anger, ready to slice the man any second now.

“You can be angry all you want, but feelings are feelings. And if you don’t say something soon, I fucking will!” The apartment filled with a loud squeal as Logan pierced Wade’s thigh with one hand, the other aiming for his torso, puncturing him through his hoodie.

As pissed as Logan wanted to be towards Wade, he knew he was right. Whatever sentiments had developed between you and him were undefined, and he hated himself for believing there was a chance it could be anything beyond friendly. You were younger than him, a given anyway, with an established life he didn’t want to ruin or get too involved with. Why would you choose him when you could have anyone else?

It wouldn’t work, not in his book. As Logan continued to puncture Wade’s body like a voodoo doll in the name of stress relief, he still had a hard time ignoring how he felt. He doesn’t think he will anytime soon.

His inner turmoil peaked when Wade hosted another get-together at the apartment, and of course, he invited you. He mentioned this would be a chance to set you guys up, and Logan tried his hardest not to shove his claws into his head or ruin the vibe before the party started.

The people closest to the host bustled into the apartment the following Friday night, along with the few new additions brought back from the void. Logan was entertained by talking to Laura and watched the entryway every few minutes to see when you’d walk through it. The time couldn’t come soon enough, the familiar notes of your scent hit his nose the second Wade opened the front door to let you inside, showing the assortment of alcohol bottles you brought to make cosmopolitans.

From where he sat on the couch, he studied your appearance. He raked his eyes over the casual jeans that hugged your thighs and the low neckline of your top, the jewelry adorning your neck brought more than enough attention to the dip of your collarbones.

Logan must’ve been starting too hard when you caught him in the act, your mouth bending up when you noticed him. Without a word, he only smiled at you, drinking his beer to wash down the incessant pounding in his body.

You busied yourself with making drinks in the kitchen, periodically darting to watch Logan while he mingled as much as his social battery allowed. You chatted with the other partygoers, catching up with Vanessa to ask how things were going with Wade and talking to the bubbly Yukio, who stood beside her girlfriend as you joined in teasing the host for the party hat on his head.

Everyone eventually had a red solo cup in their hand, uttering their thanks to you as the influx of a new alcoholic thirst quencher streamed through their bodies. The space to the right of Logan was empty after Laura rose to steal more chips from the dinner table. You took your chance, having a plastic cup in one hand as you strolled over to the gentleman sitting comfortably on the couch.

“That seat taken?” you asked, the bister eyes you’ve come to adore ran over your features, glinting slightly under the hanging light above.

“It’s free now,” Logan jerked his head to gesture you to sit beside him, the smell of your perfume hitting his senses when you walked past him. He swallowed his beer again, hoping it would help curb his growing urges.

“Avoiding me, huh?” The lively tone of your voice conveyed something he couldn’t precisely define despite it making him nervous. “Didn’t get up to say hi or anything…”

“You were busy making drinks for everybody, wanted to have you focused. Don’t want anyone to get alcohol poisoning from fucked up proportions.” You chuckled at his words, rolling your eyes and spinning the ice in your cup.

“Surprised you’re even here. Did Wade force you to stay around this time?”

Yes, he did. That was what he wanted to say, but one glance at your face, and he couldn’t be mad that he listened to the bastard for once.

“Decided to be a little social,” he answered calmly, the tip of his bottle lined up with his lips.

“You? Social? That’s a first.”

“Are you complaining, bub?” he remarked, turning to you with a raised eyebrow and a teasing attitude.

“No, not at all,” you shook your head, giddy in anticipation of what qualified as “social” for the man next to you. “Nothing wrong with trying new things.”

The world tuned out as you conversed with the older mutant, taking every word in stride. Believe it or not, Logan could talk for a while if you ignore the curse words he adds every other sentence. Still, it was nice to just talk to him, even if your sight wandered. On your second cosmo and probably Logan’s fourth beer, the distance between you on the couch closed with each shift of your hips, leaning into the back of the couch and facing him while he rested against the length of it.

With each passing word from Logan, you watched his jaw flex and his lips part as he spoke—counting the wrinkles of skin beside the slight hints of gray at his temples. You took another sip of your mixed drink, discreetly running your eyes down the column of his throat and his collarbone, peering at the coarse hair that peeked from his flannel’s first two undone buttons.

You didn’t know if he could read the signs of your desires or sense the palpable tension brewing in the air, but you remained willfully ignorant. Oblivious to you, the notion was reciprocated when you spoke, rambling about stuff with your job to bits and pieces of your childhood. Logan’s eyes never left your face, landing on the shimmer of your glossy lips or the pendant that dangled on your chest when you weren’t looking.

In the next breath, the topic changed to something concerning Wade’s most embarrassing instances and jokes that would only come from him. Logan must’ve said something right when you broke out in a fit of laughter, deep and hearty, as it came straight from your stomach and emitted through your chest. He didn’t say anything to disturb your moment, commemorating your eyes scrunching up and your mouth opening wide to laugh harder. He didn’t jolt when you smacked his sternum a few times, the warmth of your touch radiating through the layers of his clothes.

He craved more of it.

“I think you’re spending too much time with Wade. He’s rubbing off on you,” you calmed down from your laughing fit and wiped the tears that threatened to spill.

“Maybe. Gotta tolerate the guy,” Logan was carefree as he spoke despite the stirring emotions.

Your hand was still on his chest, resting comfortably on his body. You didn’t move it as quickly as you should, nor would Logan tell you to take it away. Grazing your thumb over the fabric of his shirt, you whizzed lowly to yourself, the alcohol pumping through your body, loosening your inhibitions as you continued to touch him.

Much to Logan’s disappointment, you pulled your hand away, looking over his shoulder to see Peter showing off the chain that connected his nipples to whatever was underneath his pants. Downing the rest of your beverage, you placed the cup on the coffee table, sitting up straighter.

“I think that’s my cue to leave. It’s getting late anyway.” The nagging voice in your head pressed a question you wanted to admit, an invitation you knew wouldn’t work if asked incorrectly. Thankfully, you didn’t need to speak out loud.

“Let me walk you home,” Logan suggested through the racket, firm and determined in his proposition. “Could use the fresh air if I’m being honest.”

You didn’t need much effort to say yes.

“Sure.” You rose from the couch to say goodbye to everyone, giving kisses on the cheek and hugs when warranted, your last stop being Wade. He looked between you and Logan, throwing the older man a thumbs up as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

Side by side, you walked down the block, Logan keeping you on the opposite side of the street and serving as a barrier between you and the road. He didn’t reach out for your hand despite the urge to hold you steady, nor did you hold on to his bicep as you strode beside him. But you both talked on your joint stroll, confessing things amongst yourselves that would otherwise be omitted by all the noise.

He followed you through the lobby of your apartment complex, up the flights of stairs that dropped you off on the second floor to your front door. He remained vigilant, standing behind your figure as you inserted your key into the lock, guarding you until your door opened and looming as you spun to face him again.

“Thank you for walking me. It was nice,” you expressed, the cosmopolitans you consumed earlier heightened the glassiness in your eyes.

“Ain’t a problem. It was good to get off the couch,” his hands went to his pockets. “You gonna be alright by yourself?”

“Yeah, I’m a big girl. I can handle a little alcohol,” you snorted, the sound bringing a grin to his face.

As your hazy vision landed on him, he felt the pull in his chest again, the one that comes when time and space stop moving in that beat of silence shared only between you two. He sensed the change in your demeanor, the increased pumping of your heart, and the rush of your blood flowing faster.

Logan halted his breathing when you stepped forward. You preemptively set a hand on his chest and tipped upwards to kiss his stubbled cheek.

“Really, thank you, Logan.” Your serene voice was muted when you said his name, sweet on your tongue that drew him in like a siren’s song. He’d do anything to hear you say it like that again, and again, and again.

“Any time,” you held his gaze, eyes going from his tawny pupils to the tip of his nose and plush lips. He was right there, right in front of you, and the only thing you had in mind was to get a proper feel of him.

There was a jolt of hesitation, taking a step back to get more space between you until you felt the heavy weight of Logan’s palm reaching for your hip. He kept you in place, squeezing your frame and curling his hand to your lower back. Your heart hammered in your ribcage, glimpsing up at him one more time as his head tilted towards you, the only signal you needed to get what you both yearned for.

Your lips landed on his, soft and gentle, testing his reaction. Logan didn’t let you venture too far from him, holding you close and kissing you more fervently, opening his mouth to make room for your tongue as it traced his bottom lip. The groan that reverberated deep within him grew louder when your hands went up to drive through his hair, changing your position to have your back against the entryway of your apartment.

You whimpered when he squeezed your waist, a sound that would haunt his dreams for the next upcoming nights, causing him to push further against you. Your fingers tugged at the collar of his flannel, seeking more of him than you could reach. The metal of his belt buckle pressed into your lower stomach, a faint moan tumbling out of your mouth that Logan hungrily swallowed.

“Do you want to come inside?” you breathlessly invited him as you pulled away, face heated to the touch and body thrumming with a need you didn’t expect. He could read your reactions, almost smell your arousal in the air, but the last thing he wanted to do was fall into the pattern he was familiar with when it came to partners. You deserved better than that, better than just a fun night, even if that’s what you wanted.

“I want to, I do,” Logan tried to say, already noticing your look of disappointment at his upcoming rejection. “But, maybe we can try this again when you don’t taste like fucking vodka and cranberries?” You laughed a bit, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, relishing the tingling sensation left behind from his kisses.

“Thought you didn’t mind alcohol?”

“Vodka isn’t my favorite. More of a dark liquor kind of guy.” Even as he spoke to you, his hands stayed on your body, a reassuring weight you didn’t want to leave your midriff.

“Then you can make it up to me with dinner. That sounds good?” You were cheeky in your response, refusing to let the prospect pass you by, and Logan wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he warmed at your proposal and accepted one more kiss as he let you part from him.

“I’ll see you around, Logan.”

It was the last thing you said to him before you closed your front door, leaving him in the hallway to deal with the feelings washing over him. He could still discern your heart beating on the other side of the door, probably grounding your breathing and walking further into your apartment. His eyes fell to his feet, mind running a mile a minute and exhaling, deciding to take the longer way home back to Wade and Blind Al.

The apartment was empty when he came back. Althea had fallen asleep in bed, and Wade was busy cleaning up the leftover mess in the dining room. The lopsided party hat was still on his head, brown eyes scanning Logan’s features and analyzing him.

“Well, that was fast. Thought you’d last a bit longer, peanut,” Wade mocked with a grin, detecting the leftover gloss on Logan’s lips and a spot on his face. “I’m guessing Cupid was successful tonight?”

“Not another word,” Logan was back to his prickly mood, murmuring under his breath that he was going to the bathroom to take a piss, locking the door behind him.

He looked in the mirror and noticed the faint shimmer of your lip gloss still on his features, leaving your mark on him without realizing it. He chuckled, smirked wide to himself, and privately enjoyed the remnants of your touch.

He’ll make a note to pick places to take you out in the morning. For now, he’ll appreciate this feeling for as long as possible.

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