can we actually take a moment and remember swan upon leda? can we actually shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down and think about our lord and savior swan upon leda because i'm tired of doing it alone every single day guys
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smack, smack — gojo satoru x f!reader
a/n: special thanks to the beautiful @stinkyme for inspiring me to actually write this and for fangirling over the idea with me <3
gojo satoru, like any dad, got his fair share of ‘bullying’ from his daughter, his 5 months old baby.
some dads get peed on, others get their hair pulled, and others get their nose bitten on the daily. it's a little something to make them suffer a bit like the mothers had to during the pregnancy.
your husband, however, is always getting smacked in the face whenever he has his blindfold on, and I mean harshly smacked in the face and unforgiving scratching.
the first time it happened was when he was going to school. he was ready, uniform on and everything, but he simply had to say goodbye to his two girls.
skipping to your shared bedroom, he placed two big smooches on your face. then, after much of pulling him off you, he went to smooch his little girl. a big unmatched grin was on his face as he looked down at her in her crib.
he picked her up, cooing softly at her, “what a pretty girl, just as pretty as your mama, huh?”
satoru then laid her gently against his chest and started rocking her softly, while humming. after a while, he felt her stir a little in his arms. she sleepily looks up at him, and he smiles down at her, “good morning, baby—“
now, your daughter was used to seeing her dad without the blindfold. she was used to getting met by her dad's bright blue eyes.
so when a strange unknown man was holding her up instead of her papa, she started wailing and screaming, repeatedly smacking him in the face.
whenever her little—strong—hand landed on the blindfold, she would try to pull it off with all her baby might. you scrambled out of your bed at the loud screeches and screams of both your husband and your daughter.
you saw how satoru was desperately trying to, as gently as possible, make her release her grip. you stumbled on your words, before yelling, “your blindfold! take off your blindfold off!”
“I! am! trying!” he yelps as she continues slapping the hell out of his face.
you hurry and take his blindfold off, swiftly throwing it to the side. he started rocking her, smiling despite the red marks and scratches all over his handsome face, “it’s me, daddy! you see me?”
almost magically, your daughter calmed down in an instant with the occasional hiccup from her previous crying. he smiled, “there you go; that’s my girl.”
she gently made grabby hands at him, and he quickly pulled her back into his chest. your daughter instantly snuggled into his shoulder and hid her face in his neck.
you stared at him for a moment, “well, at least we know that she bloody hates that blindfold.”
it honestly kind of adds up.
you remember the many times that your daughter was generally distressed or fussy and instantly calmed down when she saw her dad’s eyes. you also remember that one time your daughter was actually zoning out while looking at satoru’s eyes, her own safe place.
satoru chuckles with a shrug, “I have you as my savior, anyway.”
“you can’t always count on me to be the one to save you from our daughter’s monstrously strong grip.”
and he can’t.
no one is brave enough to try and to fight back a baby, let alone the strongest sorcerer’s baby.
that attack happens way more than satoru would like. for example, whenever you’re busy, he takes his little princess to the school with him. in general, everyone helps in taking care of the little angel (devil in some cases).
however, god forbid she sees satoru coming back from a mission with his blindfold on.
it took some time for your husband to learn his lesson and immediately take his blindfold off before he entered the school. until then, he was prone to his daughter’s crazy strong hand smacking his face till his entire face is painted red and not the cute kind.
satoru never believed in his students to save him, except for yuuji. the first time it happened around the students, most of them were either laughing or speechless.
yuuji did try to save his sensei from his smacking machine of a daughter, but ended up getting smacked himself.
your husband did hope that, maybe, nanami’s heart would soften, and he would finally help him.
nanami’s heart did soften, just not for satoru. instead, your daughter now has a special soft spot in nanami’s heart, as he did in hers, but that isn’t our topic for today.
the amount of times you would enter the room to find nanami chuckling or smiling at your husband getting beaten to a pulp by your baby. satoru could be sobbing, “nanami, please! save me!”
and nanami would simply smile—sadistically—and hum, “I don’t think I will.”
you’re pretty sure that nanami believes this is god’s way of punishing your husband for all the mischief he caused.
ignoring that, it grips your heart how satoru’s face would brighten up the moment he saw you. he would run up to you, giving you the baby to calm her down while he gives his face a rest.
and your little girl was smiling and giving you her version of cheek kisses.
your husband recovered quickly though, and took her back, his blindfold finally off. he doesn’t do it without pecking your lips though, “my savior.”
then he gets lost in his own world with his little girl, and their laughs and giggles filled the room. her hands were gently holding her dad’s face as she squeals, and satoru’s heart soars as he forgets about his beating from a moment ago.
now, that doesn’t mean that his dear students don’t make fun of him for always losing against his little girl. during one of the recent teasings, he simply huffed, “you never tried the grip of a baby! tell them, yuuji!”
yuuji shudders as he remembers how long the slap mark lasted, “she is one hell of a strong baby.”
it’s one thing for panda and nobara to laugh, it’s another for megumi and maki to do so as well. your husband’s ego simply couldn’t take it anymore. he took his baby in his arms and gathered the baby bags, sparing one last glance at his ‘bullies’.
and so your husband dramatically exits the room, “I need my wife! I can’t with you people anymore!”
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YOU CRYIN'? — F. READER x GOJO SATORU
You and Gojo know each other since high school, and since then, you also hate each other. He bites and you always bite back, the constant argument creates tension that everybody, except you two, seem to notice. One time you said too much, causing Gojo’s self-control to snap.
cw: smut, unprotected sex, creampie, cursing, mentions of bullying (Satoru is a meanie, ok?), overstimulation, enemies to lovers kind of vibe, I feel like the "you cryin'?" line in itself is a warning if you heard the dub version of it, reader discretion is advised — 1,4k words
» PART TWO
"You cryin'?", Satoru taunted, thrusting his hips relentlessly into yours, with a handful of your hair in his unforgiving grip. Standing behind you, with one hand digging into the supple flesh of your side to steady himself, he was pounding behavior into you.
You and Satoru Gojo have a history of never-ending venom-spitting and it's safe to say you hated the man and the man hated you with passion for years now. It started in high school, where you just couldn't stand how full of himself he was, looking at everybody from above as if he was so much better than everyone and yes, you are aware of how powerful of an individual he is but the arrogance that came with it was just unbearable. Much more you liked his closest friend Suguru, but as years passed, you found yourself working closely with Gojo more and more often, because you decided to stay at Jujutsu high in Tokyo to help students learn. You were strong enough to be considered a high 1st grade sorcerer and everything you achieved, you earned by hard work and stubbornness but that didn’t stop the know-it-all from bullying you, no. He had an awful habit of pouring more fuel into the constant fire of argument between you two and you never owed him, always biting back. That being said, your constant bickering with Satoru successfully brought you to where you were now.
Pressed against the wooden desk, sweaty and exhausted as your body was chasing the fourth orgasm with no break in between. It was a torture – the way he was slamming his cock inside of you at the pace that left you breathless, it hurt from overstimulation and burned with pleasure at the same time. You always acted tough, but now you couldn't stop the tear rolling down your cheek as his grip on your hair tightened and his teeth sank into the delicate skin between your neck and shoulder.
"You’re really cryin’”, he grinned teasingly and turned your head more to the side, kissing the tear away. Delighted at the sight, Satoru pulled back and flipped you over so he could see your pretty face when he pushed his girth back onto your swollen insides, kissing every oversensitive spot on his way while hooking your thighs over his hips. You dug fingers into his skin, leaving crescent moon shapes of your nails engraved into his flesh and you once again could feel his pace picking up. Naively, you grabbed at his hip, trying to slow him down but with no effect.
"So pretty, fuck, when you cry like that," he grunted, kissing along the salty trace on your face and down your neck to see the bruising mark of his teeth was already blooming with reds and purples. "Think you have few more in you?", he asked and the thought of few more orgasms terrified you. "You'll have to, 'm nowhere near to be done, wit' ya," a chuckle echoed in his chest and you couldn't tell if his objective was to kill you in the most humiliating way possible or what.
"N-no," you protested and he laughed once more, pulling out almost completely.
"No?", Satoru grined in his usual, annoyingly handsome manner but you barely saw him through the collage of stars in your sight, "'ts too bad you've been naughty lately. Need to fuck some behavior into you."
"Gojo-", you whined, helpless against his muscular body as he was ramming ruthlessly, abusing your swollen oversensitive insides to your limits.
"Nuh-uh", he wrapped his slender fingers around your throat, putting no pressure, but redirecting your head so you looked him in the eyes and you could drown in the crystalline blue tones surrounded by thick snowy eyelashes if you wouldn't know better. "That's not my name, sweetheart."
"Go to hell, Goj-, fuck", you whined and he thrusted harder, your back was slamming against the wooden counter but he was unbothered by the echoing pounding sound that clearly was indicating what was happening in his office.
"That's. not. my. name.", he growled, accentuating every word with a particularly sharp thrust and it was enough for you to drown in the haziness.
"Sa-, uh", you tried, but his pace was unforgiving, his cock fucking you dumb but he hummed teasingly, encouraging you to speak. "'toru- fuck. Satoru, please."
"There we go, wasn't that hard now, was it?", smiling, the sorcerer lifted you up, angling his hips upwards, his cock reaching even deeper although you thought it's impossible. The blunt head kissed every spot inside you and you felt another orgasm approaching. Satoru groaned at how your walls were flexing around his girth and this time, he chased his own, the first one, the one he's been denying himself in order to drive you insane.
He was panting heavily, groaning against your neck, profanities slipping through his mouth as he twitched inside you. Suddenly he grabbed you harshly, nails digging into your trembling thighs and he lowered himself on the expensive leathery chair, giving you a slap to the tender skin, silently ordering you to work. You straddled him, supporting your hands over his shoulders and you pushed him against the back rest, surely bruising his muscles with the harsh grip you had on him. You were desperate to finish him off, to put an end to the torture he’s subjected you to for talking too much. At this point you don’t even remember what caused his composure to snap, what has gotten you into the endless spiral of agonizing pleasure with a man you despised. The man that now you were riding with the last bits of your power, fighting the mind-numbing rush of your own release to bring him to his and you could tell how close he was. Satoru’s jaws were clenched, his fingers were digging harshly into the tender skin of your sides and his hips were bucking up uncontrollably, desperate to reach the blissful relief. His abs were flexing, cock was twitching and his tone became ragged as he groaned what sounded like your name entwined with endless amounts of fucks and yeses. His eyes closed shut and he threw his head back, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that began uncoiling in his entire body. You grabbed at his white hair, smearing open mouthed kisses all over his throat and collar bones, and your movements stuttered with your dripping pussy squelching for the nth time. That was enough for Satoru – he gave in, allowing his muscles to contract one last time as he spilled his load into you, filling you completely with warmth and you were quick to come right after him. Your ups and downs became sloppy, uneven as you slowly ride your highs out and finally, you raised your hips just enough to have him out.
Falling back heavily against his body, you leaned your head over his shoulder in hopes to calm the panting. You felt your heart drumming against your ribcage, you felt the concoction of juices running down your thigh and dripping onto Satoru’s legs, but you couldn’t care less. With his hands releasing your flesh that he was squeezing unwaveringly, you felt your body finally relaxing, your mind coming back to senses and it slowly came to you, what just happened.
Never, not even once in your life, you considered even willing to kiss Gojo Satoru. Yes, he’s annoyingly handsome; yes, his eyes are the most beautiful, magical blue crystalline spheres nature could ever create, and yes – there was a tension between you two since the day you met him, or at least everyone around always pointed that out but you never truly considered him an option and yet, you not only kissed him, but spend god-knows-how-long fucking him – or rather being fucked by him.
“You have to misbehave more often”, he teased, finally able to form his words coherently and you looked at him, eyes still cloudy but you could tell with no mistake that his lips were curled up in a smirk. You almost heard him smirking, that’s how obvious it was. You blinked, clearing your vision to take in his view. Gojo’s face was blissfully tired, he still was breathing though his mouth and the snowy peaks of his hair clung artistically to his sweaty forehead. He was stunning like this, so fucked out, he looked like he’s high and you took few mental pictures of his handsome daze. You also noted to yourself that you, indeed, need to misbehave more frequently.
» PART TWO
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When Nobody's Around
luke castellan x reader
capture the flag pt 2!
A/N: not me keeping my promises and posting three days in a row
TW: so much smut omg, throat-fucking, pussy slapping, cockwarming, overstim
word count: 1,225 words
After what happened with Luke the other day, you need to do something to cool off, to get your mind off of it. Training is the perfect thing. You make your way down to the grounds with Clarisse. Your half-sister is the perfect person to train with because she fights so hard that it gives you no chance to think.
“Fuck.” You murmur. You’re already there when you realize you forgot something. “I have to go back for my sneakers.”
“Don’t take too long, dumbass.” She smirks and you roll your eyes before jogging back to your cabin. It’s so weird because you could’ve sworn on your life that you had brought them.
You shake off the feeling and open the cabin door. There shouldn’t be anyone inside, all your siblings are training and whatnot. There shouldn’t be anyone in there, especially not Luke Castellan who is sitting on your bed, holding your sneakers.
What. The. Fuck.
“You’ve been avoiding me.” He states, giving you an easygoing grin.
“Get out of my cabin.”
“No.”
“Not only are you not meant to be in here, I also don’t want you here.” Your voice is angry as you walk towards him.
“I think you do.”
You scoff. “Stop acting like you know me.”
He gives you a sly smile. “But I do know you… very intimately.”
“If you’re here for another hookup, it’s not going to happen.” You say adamantly.
He stands up, walking towards you. You hate the way he towers over your smaller body. “I’m actually here to apologize.”
“Apologize?” You ask doubtingly, not really thinking he was the type.
“Yeah.” His hands fall to your waist. You don’t shove him off right away, waiting to see where this all goes. “I was very rough with you before.” His hand slides up to hold your chin, thumbing your lip. “Maybe I wanted to be more gentle this time? Get down on my knees and eat you nice and slow.”
“I can’t stand you.” You breathe out as his hand ghosts down, rubbing over your breast.
“You’re such a damn brat.” He gives you a squeeze. “I thought I fucked that out of you last time but apparently not.”
You want to come up with some clever retort but all you can do is whimper in response.
“Now, how about you get on your knees and if you suck me well enough maybe, just maybe, i’ll get you off.”
You drop to your knees. You hate to admit it but you like the way he talks to you. No other guy has enough confidence to try and put you in your place.
“What a submissive little slut.” He coos as he grips your hair with one hand.
“I’ll bite your cock off.” You say as you unzip his jeans, tugging them down.
“We both know that would be more of a loss for you than me.” He chuckles at how your eyes widen when he pulls his dick out. He may have been inside of you but you never actually saw how big he is. “Suck it.”
You glare but take him in your mouth as far back as you can. You gag when the tip of him touches the back of your throat.
“That’s right, baby. Choke on my cock.” He murmurs as he begins to thrust into your mouth languidly. Your eyes water as you try to suck him off but it’s more like being throat-fucked instead with the way he grips your hair to pull your head back and forth. He gives a little slap to your cheek. “No teeth.” He warns as he continues to use your mouth like he pleases.
You’re surprised when he pulls out before finishing. “You can swallow my cum another time. I plan on keeping my promises.”
When you’re on your feet, Luke pulls you into a kiss. He taps your ass once so you jump, letting him hold you as he walks you back to your bed. He parts his lips from yours, placing you down so you sit on the edge of your bed.
“It’s your turn to get on your knees.” You say cheekily.
“Don’t go acting like you’re in charge.” He says but kneels anyhow. “I’m not opposed to giving that ass a few more smacks.” You shift a bit at the comment as he pulls off your pants. “Oh, maybe you’d like that.”
“I wouldn’t.” You lie as he yanks down your panties, revealing how wet you are.
“No?” He asks, amused before laying a harsh smack to your cunt. You drip out more arousal. “Liar.” He murmurs before digging in.
His hands hold tight to your thighs as he buries his face in your cunt. It’s stimulating too much and just the right amount all at once. You begin to whine and try to squirm away but he keeps you firmly in place with his strong hands as he laps up your arousal.
“Better than fucking ambrosia.” He looks up, grinning like a devil before nipping at your clit. Your hand is in his hair now, pulling tightly as you’re so close… so close and then… he stops.
“Luuuke…” You whine in frustration.
“Sorry, baby but you’re gonna cum around my cock.”
He picks you up like you weigh nothing and throws you back further on the bed before shifting his body between your legs. He uses his dick to tease your clit and you whimper.
“Please, Luke.” You beg, looking at him with doe eyes.
“Look at you, so pretty as you beg to be fucked. I’ll give you what you want.” His words are so lewd but his voice is so gentle.
He slips himself inside of you in one go, once again not caring about you adjusting. Though, he exercises a bit more restraint this time, not moving quite yet. He at least wants you to be able to walk somewhat well after this. He leans down to kiss your neck, leaving love bites that you'll have to explain later before he actually starts to give you what you need. He begins to thrust, trying to avoid acting like a rabid dog even if he knows you like it.
“You’re so fucking tight. Never had such a tiny little pussy before.” The way you squeeze around him has him throwing all decorum out the window. He begins to fuck into you like this is the last chance he’ll get.
“Mmm Luke, harder.” You beg.
“Fucking slut.” He says with a grin before slinging your leg over his shoulder so he can piston into you deeper.
“Want you… to cum… inside.” The words have him going feral. He uses his thumb to rub your clit, making you spasm under him.
“Is that all it takes? Barely even had to touch your sweet pearl.” You cream around his cock and he fucks you through it. The overstimulation has you seeing stars but after a few moments, his thrusts finally begin to slow. He stills and you feel his hot cum spurt into you, filling you to the brim until it spills out.
He slumps down on you, pressing tired kisses to your collarbone as he lets you cockwarm him.
“Want me to go?” He asks.
It should be an easy answer. You should say yes.
“No… stay.”
And he smiles.
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Luke Castellan: @amortencjja @urmomsbananabread
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babygirl
brothersbestfriend!jake. 2.5k words. smut.
“you’re a fucking perv sim.”
“aw and you’re just mad i don’t perv on you,” he says with his infamous smug grin, his eyes blatantly scanning you from head to toe like he had been doing the whole time, “ain’t that right babygirl?”
how you even got yourself into a screaming match with jake sim again, you have no idea but doing so in the middle of your brother's frat party was not very ideal. especially if said man caught you in your outfit tonight... oh. all hell would break loose.
jay loved you. very overprotective, but definitely loved you. he also loved his best friend jake sim. you and jake however, don’t like each other and using the term like in the same sentence as you and jake, was also very misleading about your relationship with him.
just something about him irked you the wrong way right from the start. perhaps it’s the way he smirked all the time, like it was his natural expression. or maybe it’s the way he is such a fucking sleaze ball yet still gets all the girls so easily. he’s lucky he’s hot as fuck and got a big dick, according to rumours on campus.
“in your fucking dreams sim.”
“suit yourself,” he responds smugly, eyes still plastered on your skirt, “i’m just saying. any shorter and this whole house will get to find out what colour your panties are. i meannnn, i don’t mind but i’m sure your brother will.”
you roll your eyes at him, something you always do whenever the man was around. like a natural reflex. because god was jake sim annoying.
like most saturdays, you and your friends found yourselves crashing some frat party on campus. this week’s party just happens to be at your own brother’s frat house, which unfortunately, was also where your sworn enemy lived.
and as if jake had a you radar in his head, he had approached you first thing as you walked through his front door, eyeing your outfit so shamelessly. well. you did opt for something shorter tonight, something you knew would’ve gotten yourself a lot of attention with.
especially jake sim’s.
despite hating the man with your entire being, there was just something about the way he paid so much attention to you all the time... excited you. no matter if it was during parties, on the street or even while hanging out with your brother, jake’s gaze never failed to be on you... and your body.
it drove you insane, it really did and you couldn’t explain why.
“worry about yourself,” you scoff and begin looking around the room, “but what you can do for me though, is tell me where sunghoon is.”
“sunghoon? why?”
his tone is noticeably lower as he repeats his best friend’s name, a hint of annoyance in his voice. jake wasn’t one to get irritated often so the immediate change was definitely something you quickly caught on.
“why? i didn’t dress this way not to go talk to the hottest guy on campus.”
the deep chuckle that emits from jake catches the attention of a few other party goers, even surprising you. it’s obvious he’s mocking you with his laugh alone and that was enough to have you wanting to smack him across the head.
“babygirl. i have a better chance at getting with sunghoon than you. he has standards.”
and the man walks off before you could even say anything, leaving you in the middle of the living room with your blood boiling over. you knew jake was awful but this was just plain mean.
but instead of running after him, you decide to do something even better.
find park sunghoon.
and luckily for you, there he was on the other side of the room with three of the hottest girls on campus. honestly, you expected nothing less when it came to him.
sunghoon was also one of your brother’s best friends but the man was nothing like jake. he was much nicer to you, much more attentive to you. like an older brother. that’s why it didn’t take long before you had sunghoon all to yourself, the man ready to drop everything and anything once he saw you staring at him from afar.
“sunghoon i need a favour,” you say but your eyes are focused on jake, who’s standing in the crowd... currently staring back at you. “can you hug me?”
sunghoon doesn’t question it and leans right in, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you close. he says a few dumb things about jay to make you laugh, making the scene all the better for the one person watching.
“i know what you’re trying to do mini park,” he laughs as he begins to pull away, not before leaving a sweet peck on your cheeks, “well good luck. hope this works and you get some good jealousy fucking tonight.”
you wanted to complain but about what exactly? the man was right. why else why would you go out of your way to make jake mad. right?
man you needed a drink.
and to your surprise, jake appears beside you in the kitchen while you’re grabbing another cup, the man’s expression grim compared to that flirty one he had earlier. he’s also standing noticeably closer too, his gaze literally drilling holes into your face.
was this jealousy you can smell?
“really? sunghoon?”
“why not? he’s so hot,” you reply nonchalantly, hoping it’d piss the man off more, “or maybe taehyun or beomgyu? i’m sure one of them wouldn’t mind keeping me company tonight.”
now you were just spitting bullshit, seeing how worked up jake was getting with the mentions of other guy’s names. with the way he was responding, you’re certain now that he's jealous and you knew exactly how to use that against him.
“oh look, there’s heeseung-”
“babygirl,” jake grabs your arm before you could finish your sentence, his one word more of a threat than anything endearing like the name suggests, “they may be hot but trust me, they can’t fuck like i can.”
gulp.
“you’re not only annoying sim, you actually talk a lot of shit too.”
“wanna bet then?”
“bet what?”
“that no can fuck you like i can.”
everything happened way too quickly because one moment you’re being cornered in the kitchen, the next you’re still being cornered but in his bedroom upstairs. his hands are all over your body, grasping at every curve you’ve got while yours are busy around his neck, doing everything they can to have him closer to you.
you’re not even sure how everything just exploded between the two of you but in a way, you’re also surprised it took this long to happen.
although you and jake were always at each other’s throats, you can’t deny the oh so obvious sexual tension that lingered whenever you two were in the same room. explains why you enjoyed riling him up so much... because that always led to him giving you his full attention.
“you’re a fucking brat,” he could barely say his words, his lips too busy on yours to do any proper talking, “you knew i was watching and you still let sunghoon touch you.”
“you don’t own me jake,” the man looks amused when you successfully pull away from the kiss a little, the two of you now panting heavily inside the dimly lit room, “i can let him touch me if i want-”
“you won’t be saying that after i’m done with you. you’ll never want anyone else but me.”
“so are you going to keep talking or are you actually going to fuck me-”
his lips were back on yours before you could finish your insult, turning your words into soft whimpers from how harsh he was being. he kisses you roughly, with no hesitation, like he was on a mission to taste all of you.
and hell was it doing something to you.
and your damn panties.
“this fucking skirt,” you could feel his fingers gripping the material of your thin skirt, almost ripping it, “i know you wore it for me tonight. you could’ve just said you wanted me to fuck you, instead of letting everyone else in this god damn place see you in it too.”
“and what’s wrong with that, jake?”
“i don’t like them looking at you,” his tone of voice switches up in an instant, from flirty to dominant all in two seconds and damn was that hot, “too bad for them though, they don’t get to do what i’m about to.”
you open your mouth to talk back, only to be left speechless when the man gets down onto his knees before you. the sight is surely one to witness, something you know for a fact you’ll be thinking about again and again.
“jake...”
he only smirks at how you call his name, whiny and pathetic. like a bitch in heat and he hasn’t even done a single thing to you yet.
every part of you is on left on overdrive the moment jake suddenly leans in, his face now a breath away from where you needed him most. his eyes stay on yours the entire time, making sure you focused on him and every one of his movements... and you did just that.
your breath hitches when his cold hands meets with your skin, his fingers now gripped onto the sides of your thighs, gradually moving higher up your skirt. you wanted to scream at the man, for him to move faster, to do something more than just this bullshit eye contact but you know jake sim. he’s being a fucking tease and you can’t do anything about it.
“you’re so cute when you’re like this.”
“l- like what sim?”
“horny.”
gulp.
he lifts one of your legs up and rests it on his shoulder, doing it hastily that you end up grasping onto his hair for some sort of balance. your surprised look has him with a smug grin again, evidently amused at your reaction to him.
“jake!”
“is at your service beautiful,” your mind was too startled by the new petname to notice the man leaning in before it was too late. with both hands now holding your thighs, jake finally closes the gap, pressing his lips against your clothed pussy.
the sinful sound that falls from your own lips is something no other man has ever gotten from you, a sound you didn’t even know you could make. yet here jake sim was, so easily doing so just by kissing you through your panties.
“thinking of me made you this wet babygirl?” he laughs, taunting you with his words but for once in your life, you couldn’t care less, “i can taste you through your panties. so sweet.”
“f- fuck off sim, stop tea- teasing,” you want to sound stern, to sound like how you usually did but it was almost impossible not to sound like a weakling with jake’s face literally at your pussy, “i swear to god i will call for sunghoon right now- ahhh-”
it’s the feeling of his tongue licking at your core that has your knees giving out, your mind no longer able to think about anything else other than the man and his tongue.
“call him so he can watch me fuck you dumb? narh. i’m too jealous for that.”
his words leave a weird feeling inside of you, a feeling you don’t quite understand. you’re unsure whether he meant it or not but the look on his face is suddenly grim again, much like earlier when you also mentioned his best friend’s name.
jake stands back up when you go quiet, all while watching you. you can tell he’s also deep in thought like you are but no one says anything. it’s silent but it’s not awkward, neither was it uncomfortable.
actually, it’s the most comfortable you’ve ever been with him.
“get on the bed,” his voice is much softer now, more like a whisper.
his expression, his tone, his gaze are something you’ve never seen from him before. a soft side. and you didn’t know how to feel about it.
not wanting to make the situation weird, you do as asked without protest, crawling onto his bed when-
*bang bang bang*
“sim you in there?”
the sudden call of jake’s name immediately has you and him frozen in place, the both of you knowing exactly who that was currently banging on the door. despite the loud music booming throughout the entire house, you could still recognise that voice anywhere.
park jongseong aka your overprotective older brother.
“shit!” you whisper yell, terrified at possibly getting caught, “what do we do!”
“y- yeah bro?” jake signals you to keep quiet, the man thankfully much more calm in the situation compared to you.
“sooji is here, she’s asking for you! she looks so fucking hot- wait why the hell are you even in your room dude??”
men.
you look up at jake with knives in your eyes but he only responds by pinching your cheeks and with that stupid smirk you love to hate. although you’re currently in panic mode because of your brother, jake’s small action has you wanting to kick your feet at how adorable that was.
“alright give me a sec, i’ll meet you downstairs!”
you’re finally able to breath once jay’s footsteps fade away, leaving you and jake alone again.
“i'm gonna head down or he’ll get sus. give it 5 minutes for me to distract him before you leave okay?” the man hurries off towards the door, all the while you’re left sitting there, partially confused.
confused about why you were currently annoyed with the fact that jake was on his way to see some girl name sooji. knowing his fuck boy self, she’d probably be replacing your spot and that killed you inside.
“what’s wrong?” he says, bringing you out of your delusional thoughts. the man walks back towards the bed, one hand reaching out to place some stray hairs behind your ear, “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say this is the look of jealousy.”
“shut up sim.”
“you’re so cute,” he chuckles, not before leaning down to kiss the side of your lips, just softly but surely enough to leave you feeling secretly giddy inside. “can i come over tonight?”
luckily you were able to stop yourself from screaming HELL YES because the embarrassment that would bring was not something you were ready for. so you reply in a way you have always been good at.
“sure you won’t be too busy with sooji? seems like she’s here just for you tonight.”
“narh. besides, i still have something to prove to you,” his gaze moves down to your legs, shamelessly raising his brows before focusing back to your lips, “ain’t that right babygirl?”
end.
2023 © jongseongsnudes on TUMBLR. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR REPOST.
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𝐅𝐈𝐗 𝐌𝐄
DAY 2: SUB SPACE + MOMMY KINK
With: Satoru Gojo
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings: Sub! Gojo, Fem? reader (no pronouns just use of names: mommy and mama), unreleastic portrayal of sub space, mentions of BDSM (rough treatment, degradation,whips, mistress/master use), safeword use (at the end), lots of cooing, Gojo unable to think properly, praise, comfort, clingy/needy Gojo
A/N: this was actually really fun to write! i did a little research on what subspace feels like, and it says it varies from person to person, but it is a sort of euphoric experience. sooo idk! lol. also, a lot of ppl r here for gojos personality, and I feel bad bc he is not like his usual self in this bc of his headspace...dont hate me gojo simps
Gojo Satoru is kinky. Plain and simple. He has tried many different things throughout his lifetime, and he is now confident enough in many different types of sexual play. He spends way too much time on the internet buying all sorts of toys, cuffs, ropes, whips, just to build his secret obsession. He has been with many people, and has always pulled them down to the dark side with him.
But through it all, he has never found a partner to really push him to his limits. They all get too scared to hurt him, and call their safeword too early. They get uncomfortable when he sobs for mercy, or in other situations, begs for more pain. Gojo doesn't want to be just treated harshly, he wants to be broken. His standards are higher than most.
And finally his dreams came true when he met you. You've been into BDSM for years now, and even if the two of you are dating, you have a strict contract of rules you must obey for eachothers safety. It was cute, he was practically trembling in excitement when he saw the agreement, signing his hame sloppily, and waiting for your next move.
It was strange seeing someone so cheery and upbeat turn into a different breed during a scene. He was long passed the brat now, every defining thought fucked out of him. He's been slapped around, beaten, scolded, forced to orgasm, and humiliated in the past two hours. He has never had anyone treat him this rough.
A huge part of him loved it, and a small part of him twinged in fear whenever he heard you begin to move again. It sent a multitude of thoughts to his brain, What now? Are you going to hurt him? Was he being good now? Another punishment?
His blue eyes follow your every movement, and he flinches when you bring your hand up to his face, expecting another slap. You chuckle at the movement, gently petting his face. It takes him a second to realize what is happening, but from there, he melts into your hold. He presses himself deeper into your hand, eyes heavy from exhaustion.
Satoru accomplished his goal though. He was, for the first time ever, wrecked. His hair is matted against his head, damp from sweat. His body is covered in hickeys, bitemarks, bruises, scratches, and marks from the flogger. He was trembling, muscles contracting every couple of seconds without permission. Drools coats his lips, and it starts to drip down his mouth and onto his chin. His eyes seem to be in a different world, cloudy, and half lidded. His cock lays spent against his thigh, flushed red, and leaking just the last of his cum.
But even through it all, he's smiling at you. It’s a fucked out sort of grin, lazy, but content. His cheek is pressed against your palm, and he's nuzzling into it, basking in the softness of your touch, contrasting your earlier actions. “There ya go. You doing all right, Satoru?”
He blinks at you, slow, and thoughtless. “Yeah.”
You climb onto the bed next to him, brushing his hair back affectionately, and a little worriedly. He looked rather beat, and his exhausted eyes made you want to end the session now. “Alright, lets clean you up, and get you to bed,” You soothe, hands rubbing at his thighs, hoping your touch brings him comfort.
Immediately he pulls away, a small pout on his face. “Noooooo,” He uncharacteristically whines, grabbing at your hand. “Wanna…Wanna go some more. I'm doing good, right Mommy? No more punishments,” He pleads, tears coating his eyes. “Reward. Wanna reward, pleaseeee.”
Mommy wasn't todays title. You were called mistress, and master today solely. His words made your eyes widen, and you instantaneously knew he was deep into the subspace. You've seen glimpses of it, the way he becomes uncharacteristically obedient and he gets slightly giggly, probably from the light headed feeling, but he looked deep into his now. His words dragged out, and his body was obviously spent, but still he craved your approval; he wanted nothing more than to please you now.
Affection, love and care is what he needs right now and you were happy to provide him with it. So, you straddle his lap, and place kisses on every surface you can touch. His body is warm, and he goes slack against your hold, mouth falling open. “Do you want to cum again, ‘toru? Or just attention?”
He goes silent for awhile, his mind hazy, and not liking the idea of making his own choice. He wanted you to take care of him completely, to let his mind slip away, and for you to control his ever thought, movement. “Please,” He mumbles, face scrunching up with frustration.
You are quick to apologize, recognizing his situation almost instantly. “Alright, alright. I'll take care of you. Lets cum one more time, can you do that for me, pretty boy?”
Pretty boy. A nickname unlike the harsh ones he received earlier: brat, slut, dog, whore. In the moment it only increased to turn him on, but now, he wanted to be good. The thought of you calling him those names made him want to tear up, and sob into your arms. He didn't want you to be mean anymore, he wants you to love him. To praise him on anything and everything.
He jumps when he feels your hand drift back to his cock. It aches from all the abuse from earlier, and he lets out a shaky whimper, not liking the pain as much as he once did. “H-Hurts,” He yelps, wishing for you to make it better. To fix it all, why did everything ache so badly? He wants comfort, and as quickly as possible.
You kiss at his tears and pull his face into your neck. “‘m sorry. Was Mommy too rough with you today? Shhh, it’ll feel better in a bit, just relax,” You encourage, beginning to slide your hand up and down his length. He twitches and mewls from beneath you, fighting the feeling of overstimulation and pleasure. He wants this, he wants this, he wants this so badly, but he wishes it wasn't so uncomfortable.
He shakes his head into your neck, “Wasn't too rough. I'm fine, Mama j-just make me feel better, please,” he whispers, voice hoarse, and soft. One of your hands pet his hair, while the other strokes him off, shushing his cries, and reassuring that he will feel better soon.
You were right of course, the pain of overstimulation died off, and Gojo felt like he was melting. Everything is so warm, so light, he feels like he was on cloud nine. He feels loved, and every loose thought was traced back to you. “Love you s-so much.”
You grin at him, pressing your lips to his. His lips are chapped from his excessive panting, but you don't mind, licking at the plush flesh. He whimpers and groans, his hands pawing at you to pull you impossibly closer. When you pull back, he follows you, letting out a small huff in complaint. You pepper his face with kisses in apology. “Love you too. Such a good boy, Satoru, I'm so lucky to have such a pretty boy.”
He withers under the praise, nodding his head dumbly. He wants to coax so more out of you, but he can't think of ways, so he just rest his head on your chest, and chants, “Mommy” on repeat.
Your hand is slow in pace, careful to not overwhelm him. It slides up and down easily, his previous cum acting as lube. His cock is bright red, and you almost feel bad for it after pulling so many orgasms from it earlier. You are suprised he is still even awake, sure, he looks and acts exhausted, but by this long he is usually passed out. He must be awake only because he is searching for praise and comfort from earlier. To not find himself in a sub drop.
You catch his eye, and a wobbly smile pulls at his face. You chuckle at him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Whaddya want from me?” He asks, voice cracking in the middle of the sentence.
“Hmm?”
He taps his forehead against yours, hazy blue eyes staring into yours. “Wanna command. Wanna be useful for you.”
You smile warmly at him and he shivers, leaning up to kiss you again. You hand rubs over his small slit, and he gasps, pausing just centimeteres before you face, and moaning out.
“You are deep in this, aren't you sweet boy?” You murmur, mostly to your self, slightly astonished. It was one thing for him to ask for praise, and to make decisions for him, but actively seeking instructions from you was another. It was fascinating, and adorable to say the least, how desperately he craved approval, or wanted to feel needed, useful. Nothing how Gojo usually was like.
You thumb at his tip, and he heaves, trying to keep up with your words. But everything you say other than “sweet boy,” seems to tuned out. Everything feels blurry, expect for you face, and your sickenly sweet tone. “D-Don't understand. Please!”
“Okay, shhh, it's alright. I want you to cum for me. Can you cum for Mommy, Satoru? That's all I want you to do.” An easy command, one he can definitely fulfill. He can do that – he can definitely cum for you. Gojo feels his chest bloom with butterflies at the idea of what you'll say to him once he follows your wishes. How much praise he will receive. How good and useful he is being. It makes him shiver with excitement.
Your hand picks up speed when he nods, and he gasps, gripping onto your arms from the suddenness. His hips buck upward into the makeshift hole, and you coo at him, telling him to relax his hips. He abides without question, melting into the sheets, and you give him a kiss for a reward.
He feels himself begin to teeter along his high, and he glances up at you, eyes wide and slightly panicked. He needs to ask for approval, he has to ask to cum, the rules were basically engrained in him, but everything is spinning, and he's beginning to feel overwhelmed by the intensity of the pressure. He feels his voice go dry, and tears begin to pool in his eyes at the prospect of disappointing you.
You take notice of his fearful face immediately, quickly leaning over to cup his face. “You can cum. Relax, hey, its alright, I want you to cum.”
He breathes a shaky sign of relief, and you wipe his tears away, thinking back to earlier of how you wiped his tears away from the ruthless pleasure/pain mix, and now simply because he was afraid that he wasn't able to ask permission before cumming. You would be lying if the power didnt get to your head.
You thoughts are cut off when Gojos entire body jerks, and a muffled, “Fuck!” is let out. His orgasm hits him like a truck, and he trembles, riding the waves. His voice is too scratchy to let out any real noise, so he just silently cries into your chest. Cum dribbles down his cock pathetically, obviously spent, and not having much left to give. You don't seem to notice it though, instead focusing on your lover, and trying to make his orgasm as pleasurable as possible.
When he comes down from it, his legs are shaking, and his eyes are hooded with exhaustion. “P-Plea–Coconut,” He weakly gets out, and you hands fly off his body in seconds from hearing the safety word. You pull away, hoping to not overwhelm him, but instead he clings to you. “Don’t go. Don’t go. Mommy, I can't. J-Just–I…Praise!” He splutters, coherent thoughts flying out of his head, as he slumps into the bed.
You nod, staying away from his cock, and instead placing his head into your lap. His body curls around you in seconds, still slightly trembling. “Did so well. Good boy Satoru. My good boy, I am so spoiled. So lucky to have you." You coo, reaching your hand up to run it through his matted hair. "Took everything so well. I'm so proud of you." A small smile pulls at his face, and everything feels so warm "I love you so much, you know that?”
“Hm,” He hums, nodding his head slightly.
You smile at him. “My perfect boy. It's time to go to sleep, I'll take care of everything. Just rest for me, that's all I need you to do.”
But he didn't even hear the last of your statements, already passed out onto you, his chest rising and falling from his heavy breathes.
You sigh, and stare affectionately at the man. His naked body littered in marks, and he still managed to sleep contently with them. His body was drained of everything. Just like he asked you to do so hours prior.
Your hands roam the nightstand, grabbing healing cream, bandages, and a wash cloth. And with one last sigh, you place Gojo's head onto the pillow, and begin the long process of cleaning him up.
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Only If You Catch Me
♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~
pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader
summary: fred had always been frustrated by your endeavors with other men, especially other men that always looked quite a bit like him. after a disastrous mistake during quidditch practice you find yourself wondering how you had never seen fred Weasley in the light you saw him in now
word count: 4.4k
warnings: jealousy, language (maybe?), only proof read once so sorry for any mistakes!
a/n: this is my first big piece in ages, I hope you guys enjoy and im so sorry for my prolonged absence i fell off on writing for a while and im just now getting back to it
♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~
♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~
Some things were just facts, plain and simple; the sky is blue, two and two is four and you had a type.
“Another ginger I see.” Alicia murmured as you sat down across from her, pints of butter beer clinking together. Your eyes were locked with a pretty freckled boy by the bar.
You huffed even though she was quite right, this must have been the third redhead that you set sights on this year. “Well William got boring and,” You paused wrinkling your nose, “-pushy”
The Three Broomsticks was packed, the sounds of chatter and warmth guarding you from the icy cold of the blizzard that had swept through Hogsmeade. You and Alicia had joined the dozens of students seeking cover in the popular pub and quickly snagged a small table near a large fireplace where you now looked out on the sea of flushed faces and smiles.
“With your type it's a wonder your last name isn’t Weasley.” Your friend chuckled and you laughed.
“If I could have gotten my hands on Charlie, it would be.” You replied, your silly crush on the older Weasley brother lasting from your first year to what you were sure would be your last.
Alicia giggled, taking a large swig from her pint, licking the foam off her top lip. “Why not one of the twins then?”
“What twins?” A voice asked from behind you.
“She couldn’t be talking about us now could she, Georgie?” Fred jested.
“No no,” The other replied, “I mean what could Spinnet possibly want from us?”
Alicia rolled her eyes with great effort, “Trust me when I say I want nothing to do with you. As for my friend here, I don't know if I can say the same.” she said with a smug grin and you sent her a furious look.
Fred smirked, leaning over the back of your chair, his large palms ghosting your shoulders, “Is that true? Do you need something from us?” He leaned in even further, his nose brushing your hair, “from me?”
You began to look a bit red as he pulled away, “Please Weasley,” you managed to scoff “since when do I need things from you? In fact, I believe you still have my Charms notes.”
Fred had come to stand in front of you now, George joining his side, “It's just that your notes are so much better for writing Flitwick’s essay. ” He argued.
“You don’t even take notes.” You said, exasperated.
“Exactly” The twins replied in unison.
Alicia snickered beside you.
Chairs appeared and Fred and George sat. The table seemed half the size it was before as Fred's elbow knocked against yours.
“Made yourselves at home have you?” You spoke, wincing.
Fred just grinned and leaned purposefully closer, thighs now brushing.
You slid towards Alicia who was turning a laugh into a cough and set your eyes back on the boy with freckles.
“You headed to the Slytherin match next weekend?” Alicia asked absently.
“Of course.” George replied, “I’ve bet Lee a galleon that Malfoy catches a bludger with his nose.” he chuckled, “He reckons it’ll be his gut.”
You all smiled at the idea, no one hated Malfoy more than those on the Gryffindor quidditch team.
“We also have business to do.” Fred said, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.
“You don't have any more of those nosebleed nougats do you?” You asked, eyes still across the room, “I’ve got to get out of Binns’ class tomorrow.”
Alicia's eyebrows shot up, you hardly missed History of Magic, or as you liked to call it, nap hour. “Why's that?”.
“No reason.” You mumbled, intently staring into your butterbeer.
Fred’s eyes darted between the two of you.
“Of course we’ve got some.” grinned George, oblivious, “2 sickles a pei-.”
“Or for free if you tell us what you're up to.” Fred interrupted, catching a strange look from his brother.
“I'm not up to anything!” You gasped with a bit too much enthusiasm.
Alicias eyes had narrowed to slits and Fred had never looked more unconvinced.
Your face began to grow hot and you found yourself wishing you had more grace in the act of lying.
“Oh come off it,” George said, “If she wants to snog Murphy instead of hearing about the seventh generation of goblin rebellions, who are we to judge?”
You were glowing pink now, sending a vicious look at George who had taken to sipping his drink innocently.
Fred looked appalled, his face contorted like he had just caught a whiff of something horrible, “Murphy!”
“Keep your voice down.” You hissed angrily, glazing across the room again to be sure he hadn’t heard, “I'm trying to keep it quiet.”
Fred was fuming, “Who wouldn’t, swapping spit with a git like that.”
You scoffed, pulling out a small coin purse, “Can I just have some nougat?”
“Nope.” Fred responded, voice suddenly ferocious, “We’re out.”
You were beginning to grow frustrated, “George just said you had some.”
Fred glared at you, “We’re out.” he repeated his nose high in the air.
You turned to George looking for help but he threw you an I’m-not-getting-into-this look and you were forced to round back on Fred.
You glared at each other for a moment before Fred caved, "Fine we’ve got some,” He huffed, “Three Galleons.”
Your mouth dropped, “George said 2 sickles!”
He crossed his arms, “They’re in high demand.��
You stood, chair flying back into the wall with a loud crack, “You’re a complete prick.” you said sharply snatching your bag and sweeping past Fred and over to meet Finn Murphy who was now standing to leave the pub.
“Well I think you handled that well.” Alicia said, grinning at Fred who looked as though he had been slapped.
George, who looked all too happy with himself for instigating such an interesting conversation, helped himself to the remains of your butterbeer as you and Murphy bowed out into the flurry of white followed closely by Fred’s glare.
“Looks as though she's gonna snog every redhead at school before you.” Alicia snicked.
“Yeah,” George snorted, “You might want to keep an eye on Ginny.”
Alicia giggled even harder, pressing a hand to her lips in an attempt to keep her drink in her mouth.
Fred could hardly hear them, too busy envisioning your latest with large boils all over his face or perhaps vomiting indefinitely.
Alicia managed to contain herself and shot Fred a sympathetic glance, “I've been trying you know, I keep bringing you up but she seems far more interested in Charlie.”
“Charlie!” He guffawed, “But he's been gone for ages!”
“Well he seemed to have made quite the impression.” Alicia chuckled.
“He was captain when she was appointed to the team.” George pointed out.
“Yeah when she was TWELVE” Fred gasped.
Alicia couldn’t help it, she had started laughing again, “Relax,” She spoke between breaths, “It’s just a silly school girl crush.”
Fred looked unconvinced and began to tap his heel incessantly against the floor.
“Take it as a complement!” She continued, “Charlie looks quite a bit like you, I mean you are related after all.”
Fred was not taking it as pleasantly as she suggested and began to rap his foot on the ground even faster, “We’ve got to do something.”
“We?” George snorted, “This is all you mate. I’m not the one in love with her.”
Freds ears grew pink, “I’m not in love with her!” he sputtered.
“Whatever you say.” Alicia spoke rolling her eyes.
The truth was that if Fred wasn't in love with you, he was so close he may as well have been. At the very least he had been pining after you for years and he had never been particularly quiet about it. In fact he was the opposite of quiet about it. His flirtatious remarks and dazzling complements were quite consistent. Unfortunately so was his coursing jealousy as you paraded around with boy after boy who was not him. Every year he swore would be the year. The year where you finally realized it was him you needed and all would be right in Fred's world. But time and time again he failed as you walked out the door with a different redhead. He was growing nervous, his seventh year was upon him and this may be his last chance before you were all carted off in different directions never to see each other again. The frustration of it all was turning him bitter.
That night Fred lay awake on his four-poster, staring at the ceiling venomously. What was it? He wondered, What was it that he didn't have that every other ginger you knew seemed to possess? Why was it never him pulling you into broom closets and meeting you after classes? What was he doing wrong? His thoughts spun until he drifted into an uneasy slumber.
By the time he arrived at the quidditch pitch for practice the next morning, the rest of the team was already changing into their robes as Angilina scribbled vigorously on the chalkboard in front of them, already changed and ready.
“Fred!” She shouted watching him try to sneak his way into the bustle of the team unnoticed, “What took so long? I was beginning to think I would have to send George back up to wake you.”
He shrugged, “Sorry Cap, I didn’t get much sleep last night if you know what I mean.” he winked at her and she looked sorely unamused.
You on the other hand perked up at the insinuation, finally looking at the twin who, in protest of his behavior the day before, you had been ignoring.
“She gets what I mean,” He smirked nodding towards you, “Up late with Murphy boy last night?” He asked viciously.
You flushed as the changing room filled with chuckles.
“Murphy?” Angelina asked, turning to you, “Isn’t he a bit,” She paused, “dim?”
You scowled at Fred silently before snatching your broom from the rack and marching so quickly out onto the pitch that you hadn’t even noticed you had hit Harry in the temple with its handle.
As Potter groaned in pain and fixed his askew glasses Fred looked over to Alicia who was shaking her head slightly. As the rest of the team slowly followed you out onto the field she and George made their way towards him.
“You’re an idiot.” Alicia groaned, “No wonder she won’t go out with you.”
George chuckled.
Fred glared at the pair, “It’s not my fault she insists on only snogging boys who are 'a bit dim.'" he spoke, mocking Angelina.
“I know that this may be hard to wrap your head around,” Alicia spoke sharply, “But maybe she went out with Murphy because he was, ya know, nice to her.” She then shouldered past the twins leaving Fred gapping at his brother desperately.
The day was crisp, the heavy licks of winter drawn in by a bitter wind. But the sky was clear and the sun was out, much to everyone’s appreciation.
Fred mounted his broom still angry, feeling foolish for upsetting you yet again as you stood with your back to him defiantly.
The whistle blew and the balls were released as the team kicked off, snow flying in all directions as you did so.
Fred's head was not in practice as it should have been but instead on you, watching you speed towards the goal posts with the quaffle already under your arm. You scored easily on Ron with a feign left.
Fred was so absorbed in you that he had completely forgotten about the bludgers, one of which was hurtling at him with frightening speed. With little time to react he swung his bat wildly and pitched the bludger in the opposite direction, which with a sickening feeling he realized was right at you.
He tried to shout but you must not have heard him over the howling of wind in your ears. Because when the bludger struck you heavily between the shoulder blades you were completely unprepared. Your vision danced as the air was knocked from your lungs. You were flung from your broom with a shriek and began to plummet.
Fred streamed after you, urging his broom towards the ground with a frightening speed. His Cleansweep shuttered under the immense pressure he suddenly held it in and never before had Fred wished so badly for Potters Firebolt.
He managed to get beneath you mere feet from the ground. The force at which you hit him knocked you both into the snow with a heavy thud, and there was a sickening sound as his broom snapped in two.
Neither of you moved for a moment, the snow settling around you and beginning to melt through your robes.
“Are you alright?” Fred asked and was struck with panic when you did not respond. He sat up quickly pulling you with him, your legs tangled together in the snow. He called your name desperately, hands holding your face as you lay limp in his arms.
Angelina landed beside the pair followed closely by George and Alicia both of whom were wearing nervous expressions.
“Y/n!” Fred shouted again, tears stinging his eyes, fear gripping his throat like a vice. He was moments away from shaking you when your eyes slowly peeled open.
“Fred?” You mumbled, confused.
The boy let out a barking laugh of relief and then dove into a hug, almost knocking you back to the ground.
Bewildered, you returned his embrace and realized quite suddenly how much larger than you Fred really was. You practically disappeared into his chest, his broad shoulders shielding you from the wind that whipped across the pitch. You felt frighteningly warm listening to his heart beat quickly beneath his robes. Your cheeks were hot as he pulled away from you and began to search for any look of pain or damage on your face.
“Are you alright love?” He asked again and was washed with relief when you nodded.
As you fully realized what was going on around you, you gasped, pulling the handle of Fred's broom out of the snow.
“Your broom!” You looked horrified, “Fred, your broom broke!”
Fred on the other hand brushed it off helping you to your feet and beginning to pat the snow off your robes, “It’s alright, I’m sure it's fixable.” he shrugged, “Listen, I am so s-”
But before Fred could finish his apology George burst between the two of you, “I am so sorry!” He spoke hurriedly, “The bludger caught me off guard. I swear I wasn’t aiming for you.”
You chuckled, giving George a pat on the shoulder, “I sure hope not, but 's not me you should be apologizing to anyway.” You said, “It's Fred’s broom that broke.”
George did not issue his brother any regrets and instead sent him a wink, whipping his wand out of robes and shouting “Repairo!”
The broom snapped back together and Angelina, who was desperate to get back in the air, looked to you, “You alright then?”
You nodded with a grin and turned back to Fred who was testing the strength of his brother's repair.
“Thank you so much Fred,” You gushed, looking up at him through your lashes.
The boy's heart skipped a beat, stomach lurching, “It was no problem really.” He breathed and miraculously found you in his arms for the second time as you lunged towards him.
“Thank you.” You murmured into his robes before disconnecting and swiftly boarding your broom again.
Fred watched you leave struck for a moment. Alicia shot him a thumbs up and a grin before he was able to clumsily climb onto his own broom and follow you back up into the air.
By dinner the story of your fall had been told and retold so many times that you were now said to have plummeted upwards of a hundred meters before Fred had heroically scooped you onto his own broom, saving what was sure to be your life.
In the great hall you kept getting asked if you were okay as down the table Fred got clapped on the shoulder and congratulated for his great save. He seemed to be enjoying the new story a fair bit more than you were.
Finn had come over to ask about you halfway through dinner but you found suddenly that he was no less than boring and he returned to the Hufflepuff table after a few short minutes with a look of disappointment on his face.
Fred watched this with such delight he was sure he was glowing. George -who he had been applauding as the best wingman one could ask for all day- poked him hard in the side and pointed down the table to where you sat. Fred turned to catch your eyes already on him. He winked exuberantly and you turned away with a scoff, but your cheeks had taken a rather deep shade of red.
He grinned so wide at George he thought his lips might split, “I mean this is some real progress!” He cheered, “Did you see that? She was staring at me!”
Down the hall you turned to Alicia, cheeks still pink, “Have you ever noticed how tall Fred is?” You asked so suddenly she choked on her pumpkin juice.
You stared at her curiously as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve smiling, “Oh yeah very tall.”
You hummed looking back down the table at the elder twin who was now laughing wildly at something Lee had said, “I guess I never really thought about it before.”
Angilina shot Alicia a glance as you were distracted and the two of them broke out into giggles.
“What?” You demanded though you were still smiling.
“Oh nothing.” Angilina grinned and you huffed turning back to your dinner.
You found yourself wishing Fred had chosen to sit a bit closer to you as you watched a group of girls across from him break out into giggles at something he said, “There's no way he's that funny.” You muttered knowing he in fact was.
Yet you couldn’t find yourself being all that jealous as he kept glancing up at you, as if checking to make sure you were still watching him and much to his delight you always were. His shoulders, you noticed from where you sat picking at plum pudding, were quite wide, his arms toned. It was no wonder that he had engulfed you completely out on the pitch.
How had I never noticed this before? You found yourself wondering. How had he managed to escape your list of potential suitors when he was so obviously perfect for you?
The thought struck you rather abruptly and while you would have liked to have sat with it for a minute, Alicia was standing and you knew it was time to head back to the common room.
As students began to flood from the hall you fiddled with the sleeves of your robes, thoughts full of brown eyes and freckles .
As if summoned, Fred appeared at your side grinning widely, “Hello.”
“Hey Fred,” replied Alicia.
“Have you guys heard the news?” He asked, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You tried hard not to blush and instead shook your head, staring at the floor. “Apparently, you owe me your life.” He was beaming down at you now and you found it hard to look away.
“Oh yeah?” You smirked, “And I heard it was actually you who hit me with that bludger.”
His smile disappeared only momentarily and you were happy to see it recover so quickly.
“Ah well, I figured Angelina wouldn’t keep her mouth shut.” He shrugged, “Though I swear if I had a choice I would have knocked her off her broom instead.”
And for the first time that evening jealousy took you strongly, “Oh yeah? I suppose she would have been a bit more fun to catch then?”
Fred looked startled by your bristly reaction, “Nah,” He responded, “That would have been Georgie’s job.”
You were satisfied with this answer and felt yourself leaning against him as you began up towards the tower.
George was delighted to see you still tucked beneath his brother's arm when you reached the common room. He called you over to where he sat and you placed yourself in a large squishy armchair as Fred perched himself beside you on an ottoman.
You spent your evening rather uneventfully, finishing an essay for Snape as the Gryffindors slowly filtered off to bed in pairs. When George rose to take himself to the dormitory you expected Fred to follow but instead he stayed rooted by your feet where he now sat cross legged on the carpet looking over what looked like an extensive order form.
Hours later you yawned, stretching when you finally finished your work. It was now well past midnight and only a few fifth years remained, cramming for a quiz in transfiguration the next day. You turned to look at Fred who had long since sprawled himself across the couch before the fire and found him snoring softly.
A jolt of infatuation made your stomach flip. His messy hair glowed shockingly bright in the fire light, his pink lips slightly agape. You gathered your things slowly, sure not to wake him before you stood beside him.
You knew you should wake him, you were the reason he had not retreated to bed after all. But he looked so peaceful like this, so soft. Instead you found yourself slowly counting the freckles that sprawled across his cheeks, leaning close to brush a strand of his bright red hair out of his face. He woke immediately at your touch, large brown eyes locking with your own.
You felt your cheeks go hot, “You should go up to bed.” You mumbled beginning to pull away.
He snatched your wrist with such haste it took you by surprise, “Do that again.” he spoke.
You furrowed your brow, “What?”
“With my hair,” It was his turn to blush now, “Touch my hair again.”
It felt as though the air was sucked from your lungs yet you found yourself obeying, fingers coming to comb through the soft waves that spread across his forehead.
He hummed, leaning into your touch slowly, gaze still locked with yours. The two of you stayed there for a moment, you kneeling beside him fingers in his hair, his hand still loosely wrapped around your wrist.
“I’m sorry.” He murmured and you looked at him confused.
“For what?”
“Hitting you with a bludger.” he responded remorsefully.
You laughed softly, your head thrown back, “It's okay Fred.” you grinned. You were close now, so close Fred could feel the tickle of your breath on his cheek, “I forgive you. You made up for it after all.”
He smirked in spite of himself, “I suppose I did, saving your life and all.”
You were giggling again and Fred was sure he was in some beautiful dream where all he could ever hear or see was your joy.
“I wouldn’t push your luck if I were you.” You grinned, “I may just chuck the quaffle at your head when you're not looking.”
“Only if you catch me when I fall.” Fred whispered, leaning closer still.
You let him, your lips connecting slowly. You were pleased to find he was a fantastic kisser, his lips soft and plush, eager to please. His free hand cupped your cheek as he pulled you closer still until you were practically on top of him.
One of the alarm clocks the fifth years had been attempting to turn to roosters burst to life and you pulled away abruptly remembering bitterly that you and him were not the only ones in the room. Fred chased after your lips with his own desperate for even a moment more with your mouth.
“You should get to bed.” You repeated standing now, knees a bit shaky.
Fred was disappointed by your departure but grinned wildly nonetheless as you gathered your books into your arms and turned back to him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow Fred.” You yawned and began up the stairs to your dormitory determined not to let him see the childish glee that had spread across your face.
“Wait!” He called after you, lurching from the couch and stopping at the bottom of the steps.
You turned back to him taking in the wonderful sight of him staring lovingly up at you. He looked delightfully disheveled, his hair a mess and his lips swollen from your touch. You took two steps down now only one above where he stood on the hardwood floor.
You looked down at him expectantly as his eyes bore into your own.
He lifted himself onto his toes and grabbed your shoulders forcinging you forward where you connected for a second time.
This time his breath was hot and heavy on your lips, his earnest intensifying to a level that you could only describe as hunger. Your feet dangled momentarily in the air as he lifted you fervently into his embrace. You were suddenly engulfed in Fred again, he was all you could smell sweet and cinnamon, all you could hear were his pants in your ear, all you could feel was him, his arms around your middle, his thigh pressed between your legs and his lips and tongue working so well together that it was you who chased after him this time, whining in protest when he pulled back.
You stared at him, out of breath and stunned to silence.
Fred looked as though he had just won something very expensive the way he was grinning with triumph, his eyes dark with lust.
“Sweet dreams love.” He murmured leaning down to give you one final kiss, his lips moving sickeningly slow against your own, wet and warm. He hovered inches form your lips for a moment, as if debating diving back in, before he backed away tucking his hands casually into his robes.
“You should go to bed, love.” He smirked, “We’ve got an early practice tomorrow and I do believe you made me a promise about knocking me off my broom.”
You bit your lip to keep from breaking into girlish giggles. Your heart was still pounding as though you had just run a long race.
“Only if you swear to catch me though.” He added with a wink.
“I’ll always catch you Freddie.” you assured him before turning and hurrying back up the stairs, grinning so wide your cheeks had begun to ache.
♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~
taglist: @accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-dood13 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1 @coldlilheart @the-natureofme @trickylittlewitch @layaa-layaaa @sarcasticallywitty @rosieweasley @dracosgoodgirl @inglourious-imagines @princess-jules47 @daedreamss @d22malfoys @evyiione
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𝐄𝐍𝐕𝐘 [𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚]
Tw: Smut, sukuna is a meanie, possessiveness, unprotected sex, toxicity?, riding, Sukuna is just Sukuna, which means he has a big D
Synopsis: Sukuna calls for another concubine instead of you, causing jealousy to brew in your heart (and it turns him on)
Sukuna loves when you get possessive over him. Everyone knows you’re his sole favourite, that you’re his most favored— the appearance of whom after Sukuna forgot about his entire harem.
“Mmh…” you whimper, struggling to take all of him as you lower yourself down onto his cock. You’re so cute like this, trying to please him with all you have, “S-So big…”
He has a stupid smile plastered on his face, everything about the situation was so amusing to him, your desperation to please him for you feared how he’d replace you after the stunt he pulled today, how adorable you looked trying to fit all of him into your tight little hole.
He was so right in his decision to call another concubine to his chambers today. Not that he required that, but simply to toy with his favourite one. To see your face fall as you— who is obvious to get chosen to attend to him every single night, lost all confidence at the act.
“H-Hate you!” You whine, taking him all in to the base, the way your tight walls clamp so desperately around him making him groan softly. Though your words amused him to no ends, reminding him of why exactly you were his favourite.
“That so?” He chuckles, arms guiding you by your hips as you slowly try to bounce on his cock. He felt so much bigger than when he has you under him, “Doesn’t seem like it….”
You try to begin your movements, as stretched out as you are, you’re still mad at him, something the other concubines can never have the liberty of.
“W-Why did you do that?” You lower yourself on him again, gasping as you notice the visible bulge on your belly as he’s all inside you, “D-Do I not please you a-adequately?”
Your movements are still slow, riding his length slowly as you try to adjust to his size. At the same time, you also want to wipe that stupid grin off his face.
“Hmm…that you do, pet.” He guides you down onto him once more, your slick coating his cock, producing lewd noises as he guides you in your actions, “Look at you now— trying so hard, aren’t you?”
You huff, “And yet you called for her!” you look so hot like this, scolding him while losing your mind on his cock, so adorably flushed with anger but still eager to please your lord.
“I did.” He grins again, slamming you down onto his cock, “She did the job well, I must say.”
Disappointment courses through you, and anger. His actions today had left you shattered, and he is so smug about it!
“Did y-you fuck her?” Your actions grow rapid, bouncing up and down on his cock, controlling the moans and whimpers that threaten to leave your lips.
Sukuna had you exactly where he wanted. Jealous, broken little thing trying his best to please him, but like he’d fuck someone else after having a taste of you. He barely even looked at the overjoyed woman who walked into his chambers, all he thought of was what must’ve been going on in your stupid brain.
“What do you think?” He responds smugly, two sets of his hands reaching below your tits, watching how beautifully they bounce with your movements, “Do you really think I’d have required your presence if she did the job?”
That is a relief, at most. You try your best to speed up things, making him growl softly, “G-Good…” you manage to respond between low and broken moans, leaning down towards his face as you work your magic. “You’re mine.”
The declaration causes him to smile even more, two of his hands resting on your ass, “hmm, is that so?” He chuckles, taking in a sharp breath as you clench around him, “I’m yours?”
He feels so good, so deep inside you that you’re almost dizzy, his tip brushing perfectly against your spot, feeling absolutely stretched— you aren’t sure about what you’re even saying!
“M-Mine…” you moan against his lips as he slams you down onto his cock once again, “P-Please say it…”
You’re so cute when you’re begging, fucked out of your mind. He cannot help but capture your lips with his, tongues brushing against yours in a moment of passion, groaning softly at the sensation of your gummy walls clench around his length.
“S-Shit, woman…” he groans. Every time he fucks you he’s reminded of why exactly his other concubines are so neglected, “You’re like no other…”
Your slick coats his cock, embarrassingly so to produce lewd noises. His words give you the satisfaction you craved, “S-Sukuna–ah..!”
“Nasty girl,” he growls, the grip on your hips strengthening as he’s practically using you like a toy, using his strength to bounce you on his cock. Your face is buried in his neck, he can feel your warm breaths on his skin and hear all the sounds of pleasure you produce as your walls keep tightening around him.
No one, absolutely no one can give him this level of satisfaction that you do.
“Y-You wanted to hear it, huh?” He growls into your ears, pulling your hair as a leverage to reveal your face to him. You are on the verge of tears from how good it all feels, from knowing that know one can please him like you do.
“Listen then,” he senses you’re close, the sounds of squelching filling the room, your tits rubbing against his chest with every movement, “I-I’m all damn yours.”
His words make your pussy throb, capturing you into another kiss, coming closer to finishing.
“H-Hnghh…” you moan out loud, “k-kuna, m’ coming…ngh!”
“Do it then.” He commands, taking great pride as your face contorts in pleasure and with a loud moan of his name, you release all over him, drenching his cock in your juices. A few movements in, he soon follows, filling you so full of his thick cum.
His cock remains inside you as your mixed juices flow down his cock and you look at him with a slight frown, panting slightly, “N-Never do anything like that again.”
He chuckles, patting your head. “Duly noted,” he was definitely still hard from how damn adorable you were being.
“Now get off,” he removes you off him, laying you down next to him. You thought he was done, but were quick to understand that wasn’t the case when he positioned himself on top of you, two of his hands spreading your legs.
“I’m not done yet.”
But could you blame him? You were so hot when possessive.
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Seeing stars
Welp, I wrote more porn.
Astarion x F!Tav/F!Reader
18+, smut, porn with plot, porn with feelings, jealous Astarion, soft dom Astarion, dirty talk, fingering, PIV, elf ears and more! Humour, banter and fluff mixed in per usual. Tav failing several insight checks in the process.
I also poke fun at the in-game romance mechanics, and Wyll's Act 2 scene in particular.
This is the last time they have sex before the "I want us to be something real" conversation.
Approx. 2,900 words
“You won’t believe the ludicrous encounter I just had with Wyll.”
You burst into Astarion’s tent. Well, it was ‘Astarion’s’ tent only notionally at this point. Yours still stood, but it now served solely as storage space for your assorted junk. You had effectively moved in with Astarion, having first coerced him into replacing the wooden plank and bloodstained rags he slept on with some sensible rugs and blankets.
Astarion lounged half-naked on one of the bedrolls, reading something by candlelight.
“Oh?” he looked up at you. “Do tell.”
“First the massage you promised earlier,” you said sinking down onto the floor of the tent and stripping off most of your clothes. “My back is killing me after carrying everyone all day.”
“Oh please...” he rolled his eyes. “I recall you nearly walked into your own cloud of daggers, again, and would have if I hadn’t pulled you away in time. And then you blasted Lae’zel off a cliff. It’s a wonder we haven’t kicked you out yet.” He shook his head. “And if you’re carrying anyone, I’m the one carrying you.”
Still, he sat up as you laid down on your stomach.
“Who do you think you’re fooling with this modesty, darling?” he murmured, noticing that you’d kept your underwear on. “Just lose it now,” he added, as he slid it off, leaving you completely naked, before he settled over you, his fingers commencing work on your shoulders. “So what happened with Wyll?”
“I was making my way back here, and found him... performing some kind of jig by the campfire, pretending like he didn’t know I was there.”
“The ‘Blade of Frontiers’, dancing alone in the middle of camp?” Astarion snickered. “Did you mock him? Please tell me you mocked him.”
“Well... I was going to, but then he asked me to dance with him, very earnestly.”
“That scoundrel...” he mused. “And let me guess - you agreed, didn’t you?”
“Oh trust me, at that point it would have been more awkward not to dance with him, I had to play along.”
Astarion scoffed, with a chuckle.
“Do you always go along with whatever people want from you just because it would be too awkward to say no?”
"I try not to – last time I did, I ended up with a vampire who won’t stop sucking me dry,” you deflected. “I figured there was no harm in indulging him. Besides, I don’t see you dancing with me. It was kind of nice,” you teased.
“I hate dancing,” he said.
“Right,” you said. “I’m sure you hate dancing just as much as you hate poetry, flowers, art, cats... What else?”
“Children,” he answered. “I also can’t stand children.”
“No, that one I could see being true,” you grinned.
“So anyway, you two dolts pranced around the fire to the sound of crickets, then what?”
“And then he tried to kiss me,” you admitted, with a sigh.
Astarion’s hands paused for a moment before resuming their work, slightly harder than before.
“Well look at you, receiving the Duke Ravengard’s heir’s attention. Moving up in the world, hmm?”
“I didn’t let him.”
He laughed.
“Is there even a single person left in camp that hasn’t tried to get into your pants, darling?”
You had to think for a moment.
“Are we counting Volo?”
“Sure.”
“Then just Karlach and Withers.”
“Gods, I fucking love Karlach,” he murmured. “Don’t tell her I said that.”
“Why? Getting jealous all of a sudden?”
Astarion was silent for a few moments.
“I just don’t understand it,” he said. “You’re with me every night. I’m at your side every day. They see us. They hear us. Still, they don’t take me – or you and me – seriously. Tell me, is there something about me that screams: ‘Please, go ahead and take my lover for yourself. Come on in and snatch her right out from under me, I don’t mind’?”
Perhaps you’d made a bad judgment call when you thought Astarion would find the absurdity of the situation humorous rather than offensive. Still, you had to bite your cheek to keep from laughing at the dramatics he added to the delivery of the last few lines that left his mouth.
“Stop laughing,” he said.
“I’m not laughing,” you laughed.
“I can feel your back muscles twitching in your efforts.”
“Well, they’re aware this all started as a joke. Perhaps they never realised that it’s long stopped being one?” you offered.
Astarion’s hands had been moving lower and lower along your back. They had now reached your ass and continued to rub, stroke and squeeze, as you let out a soft groan.
“That’s not my back, Astarion.”
One of his hands kept squeezing an ass cheek, while the other dipped to stroke you between your legs. He gave a satisfied hum when two of his fingers entered you effortlessly.
“Maybe if they could see how wet I can make you just by rubbing your back they’d reconsider how much of a joke this is,” he said, his voice low. He continued to pump his fingers in and out – you were almost embarrassed by the loud squelching sounds that came out of you. You moaned and tried to lift your hips higher, but your legs were encased between his thighs, pinned down on the bedroll. “Do you think you’d be reacting this way to young Ravengard, darling?”
“Stop it,” you hissed. “You know I don’t want anyone but you.”
“Stop?” he pulled his fingers out, to your dissatisfied whine. You looked back to see him studying your slick on his fingers. “I should go smear this on his face right now... The audacity to try to get his hands on what is not his.” He licked his fingers clean instead. He turned his attention back to you.
“Maybe if you were more vocal about your devotion to me the others wouldn’t make these mistakes.”
His hand returned between your legs, spreading your wetness and slipping lower to tease your clit.
“I could be... encouraged... to be more vocal about it,” you breathed, trying to grind against his hand.
“Yes... I should make you scream my name, so they all know who you belong to.”
His fingers returned inside you, teasing you with shallow strokes.
“You can try,” you taunted him.
Astarion let out an indignant huff and shifted to spread your legs open with his knees, simultaneously placing a hand on your back to firmly hold you down. You expect to feel his cock enter you, but he continued to stroke you with his fingers, turning his hand to curl them downwards.
“Is that a challenge, darling?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “You should know better by now than to bet against me,” he said, continuing to flex his fingers inside you.
It started off pleasant enough, but rapidly grew into... more. And more. You weren’t sure what he was doing but whatever it was, it was just about making you see stars.
You sputtered as the new sensation started to take hold of your whole being.
“Ast… what..”
You couldn't manage anything coherent, as his fingers continued to dig into you, gradually picking up speed and pressure. You started to squirm to try to get away despite yourself, but he simply put more weight against the hand on your back, securely pinning you to the bedroll.
“Always getting yourself into situations you're not prepared for…" he murmured. "You're not talking your way out of this one.”
His fingers were relentless. You were worried you really would scream and wake everyone in camp. All you could do was bite down on the pillow, hoping that it would muffle your drawn-out moans.
“Let go, darling... I know you want to.”
It's not so much that you let go – rather, all your decorum was ripped from you, as your muscles convulsed, the orgasm rolling through your entire body. You panted and shuddered, trying to keep quiet, your hands clutching desperately at the covers beneath you, trying to hold on to anything like your life depended on it.
Once the feeling subsided, you came back to your senses to find Astarion hovering over you, kissing the back of your neck and shoulders, grazing them with his fangs, almost but not quite hard enough to draw blood. You felt his erection rubbing against your hip.
“Has anyone fucked you like this before?” he whispered hoarsely into your ear, his breath ragged from his own arousal. “Tell me.”
“No,” you gasped, trying to catch your own breath.
“I thought so,” he whispered with a smile, kissing your neck before he sat back up.
You turned back to look at him over your shoulder. He watched you with a self-satisfied grin, his fingers returning to stroke you lightly between your legs once more.
“Do you want me to do it again?” he purred.
A part of you wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face after what he just put you through. Another, much larger part, wanted nothing more than to submit yourself to whatever he would do to you.
“Yes,” you admitted sheepishly.
“Turn around...” he narrowed his eyes mischievously. “I want to see your face this time.”
You flipped around onto your back, under his watchful gaze. His eyes never left yours as he stroked your slit, teasing your engorged clit with his thumb, before his fingers slipped back inside you.
You found yourself mewling in anticipation before he really even started doing anything.
“So eager,” he smirked. “So wanton...”
He curled his fingers again, moving his whole hand to mercilessly claw into a sweet spot you didn’t even know existed inside you.
You tried to relax into and accept this sensation, now that you were familiar with it. A growing pressure kept building at the bottom of your stomach. It was too much. It was entirely too much. You couldn’t take more of it. You couldn’t-
“Let go, I’ve got you...” His whisper sounded so tender in sharp contrast to the depraved way he was handling your body.
You sobbed as what you hoped was cum gushed out of you, your legs quivering.
“Good girl”, Astarion laughed with glee, bending down to place a kiss on your lips, continuing to stroke you lightly, “Your body reacts so perfectly to me... Do you want more?”
“You... I want you...” you groaned, biting his lip.
“If that’s what my good girl wants,” he purred, discarding what was left of his clothes.
You groaned as his cock entered you, rocking your hips against his, trying to find that feeling again.
“So wet and needy for me...” he goaded you. “I’ve completely ruined you for anyone else, haven’t I?”
He held absolutely nothing back as he fucked you, lewd insistent sounds of skin slapping on skin combined with your shared grunts and moans disturbing what was likely otherwise a silent night.
“Anyone awake knows exactly what I’m doing to you right now,” he rasped, voice thick.
Your walls clenched at the thought, making him shudder and sigh as well.
“You like that thought, don’t you..? I know you do,” he continued. “So shameless...”
Despite yourself, you whimpered, clenching again as another orgasm started threatening to overtake you.
“That’s it... Come for me again,” he groaned. “Come for me, my love.”
‘My love’..? Just a figure of speech, you thought. You’d thrown that phrase around, jokingly, but it’s never sounded so... raw. You wanted to hear it again. You wanted to keep hearing it.
“Your what?” you gasped.
He didn’t answer. Instead he caught your lips in a deep, devouring kiss, pinning your arms over your head.
Your body gave in and you trembled under him, caught up in waves of pleasure again.
He released your arms and eased his movements once you rode out your high, but kept kissing you, hungrily, unwilling to release your lips from his.
Clearly, no further words of love would follow, you thought to yourself with a tinge of both relief and disappointment, deciding to let it go.
“You’re so good to me,” you managed, breaking your lips from his.
“Aren’t I just?” he groaned, speeding up again to chase his own release.
You kissed your way up his jaw to his ear, pausing to nibble on his earlobe.
You couldn’t see it, but a ditsy, open-mouthed smile started to play on his face.
Astarion gasped with a sharp intake of breath as you continued further, running your tongue over the inside of the shell of his ear.
“Oh sweet hells,” he sighed with pleasure, immediately grinding into your harder.
You smiled as he tilted his head, just about pressing his ear against your lips.
“Do you like that?” you whispered in his ear, running your tongue over it again, lifting your hands to run your fingers through his hair. You knew he did. You just wanted to hear him say it.
“Yes... Don’t stop...” His words sounded like a desperate plea.
You continued to gently nibble on the edge of his ear, soft moans escaping you from his movements.
“That’s it, take what’s yours” you groaned, as his hips crashed into yours harder.
His breathing and movements were becoming more and more frantic.
“Astarion...” you whispered, grazing the shell of his ear with your lips.
He let out an uncharacteristic whimper, all his usual composure slipping from him, as he bucked his hips, fucking you with quick, shallow thrusts.
“My sweet...” you breathed against his ear.
He came completely undone, spilling into you with forceful, jagged thrusts, before finally stilling. His whole body seemed to melt into yours as he stayed on top of you, trying to regain his breath.
You wrapped your legs around his hips, not wanting to let go of him yet, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to lift himself from you either. Instead he trailed light, tender kisses from your neck up to your lips.
You delicately traced the contours of Astarion’s face with your fingertips, running them from his cheekbone down to his jaw, as he leaned into your caress, gazing into your eyes.
Astarion parted his lips slightly, as though to say something, only to seal them again. He tilted his head to kiss your knuckles as your fingers gradually made their way back up, to run through his hair. Eventually he spoke.
“You would really choose me over the more... blatantly obvious options you have at your disposal here?” he asked quietly.
“Haven’t I made that abundantly clear already..?”
“Well of course you have – no one else is this good,” he said with a tired smirk.
“I’m not talking about the...” you blinked. “You know I’m not with you just for the sex, right..?” you frowned, looking into his eyes.
He looked away, slipping out of you and moving to lie down next to you.
“Is that so?” he said softly.
You found yourself suddenly feeling rattled. Was he simply fishing for compliments again, or had you been utterly oblivious to just how deep his insecurities ran this whole time..?
“You have a wealth of other qualities that I... enjoy and appreciate,” you said, somewhat lamely.
Astarion propped his head up on his hand and raised an eyebrow at you quizzically. There was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes despite his outward nonchalance.
Oh for fuck’s sake, you thought. I’m not ready for any serious conversations now, especially not with cum running down my thighs.
You turned away to grab something to wipe yourself down with.
“A gentleman would clean up his own mess, by the way. Not one of your strong points. But you do have some virtues that make up for it. For instance... I can leave cheese unattended around you, knowing you won’t eat it.”
Astarion went to pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing.
“You’re a treasure trove of useless information,” you continued. “But unlike some of our companions you usually keep it to yourself.” A hint of a smile played on his lips at that.
“Your hand feels nice and cold on my forehead when I have a headache.” You laid back down next to him, mirroring the way he was lying.
“You always smell nice, especially for a dead guy. You never hog the mirror.”
“What about my hair, won’t you mention that?” he smiled.
“No, fuck your hair, it makes mine look awful in comparison.”
He chuckled at that.
“I do rather adore the garnet puppy eyes though,” you murmured. “What else... You make me laugh, and, more importantly, I make you laugh – which is great for my ego,” you continued.
“As long as you understand that I’m usually laughing at you,” he countered.
“Prick... Then there’s the fact you’ve saved my life four times.”
“Seven,” he said quietly, looking into your eyes.
“Five.”
“It’s seven, dear, I counted.”
“Whatever. When it comes to battle, you’re silent but deadly,” you said. “Like a-”
Astarion’s hand covered your mouth.
“Do not finish that thought, darling.”
You grinned from behind his palm.
“I think we can be done with this conversation,” he said.
“Wait, wait, one more...” you laughed. “You’re eccentric, unpredictable, often irrational. I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.”
You smiled as Astarion groaned dramatically, covering his face with one hand.
“Knowing I’ll get to spend another day in your mad company gives me a reason to get up in the morning,” you added, softly.
“Come here, you sweet fool,” he whispered, drawing you against him.
You hugged him tightly. It took so long for him to start initiating these embraces that wouldn’t lead to sex... You relished each one.
Tomorrow, Astarion thought to himself, unbeknown to you. I have to tell her tomorrow.
~~~~~
Follow up bonus scene
This work is part of a series - here is the master list
Next in series - Confession
AO3
Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89
@spacebarbarianweird @kittenintheden - hey, I heard you like elf ears
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morals on sundays | myg
You're still in love with your ex-boyfriend. Yoongi offers some help to get over him.
○ Pairing: BFF!Yoongi x f!Reader
○ Rating: Explicit/18+
○ Genre: Friends with benefits, angst, smut, fluff
○ 6 / 100 Drabble Challenge (FWB)
○ Word Count: 2,177
○ Warnings: MC's boyfriend cheated on her, post-breakup blues, questionable decision making, fingering so good you'll try to run away from it, pussy eating, too much tongue sucking probably, Yoongi is a boob guy, they have matching Spongebob and Patrick coffee mugs so why aren't they married?? Idiots
○ Notes: Shout out to @sailoryooons for also writing about a daegu boy eating pussy tonight 😌 And, as usual, I wrote this with scrambled eggs for brains and didn't proofread it, so if you see any errors, no you didn't
○ Post Date: January 22, 2024
○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots
○ What was Jai listening to? Imported - Jessie Reyez ft. 6LACK
Lately, you’ve felt like disappearing – not into a crowded city street in another country or down an unlit dirt road into the unknown, but into the warm folds of Yoongi’s hoodie. You’re already halfway there, with your fingers interlaced with his, shoved into the large front pocket, and your face tucked into his shoulder.
“Fuck, I hate taking the bus,” he curses, his words turning into a cloud that disappears into the cold air.
“How much time do we have?”
Yoongi turns his head, and his lips briefly touch the cold curve of your ear.
“You’re mumbling. What’d you say?”
“How much time until it comes?” You squint up at him, cheek still pressed against his shoulder. It’s too warm here to want to move.
“Can’t check the app on my phone unless you give me my hands.”
“No.”
Yoongi chuckles and jostles your head by bobbing his shoulders.
“I thought our date would cheer you up.” His complaint is playful, eyes sparkling in the streetlights when he returns his gaze to the empty road. You should have gotten a taxi.
“I’m gonna die alone. Doesn’t matter how much late-night pizza I eat or how many stupid action movies I watch,” you grumble into Yoongi’s shoulder.
“Even when the action movie lead has a super hot sex scene that’s poorly timed and irrelevant to the plot?”
“Nope.”
“Even when the coolest guy on the entire planet was the one who took you?” Yoongi smiles cheekily, his gaze back on you. He wiggles his shoulders again, hard enough to bounce your head.
Annoyed, you straighten up, hands still shoved in his pockets. The movie wasn’t that bad. The pizza was actually great. You’re just depressed.
“I didn’t think it would take this long…” You whisper into the little space between your body and Yoongi’s. He knows you aren’t talking about the bus.
Yoongi squeezes your hands inside his hoodie. The rest of you might be freezing in the winter night air, but at least Yoongi keeps your hands warm. He keeps your heart warm, too, with his sincere gaze when he looks at you.
“You were too good for him.”
Yoongi’s right. He’s always right.
You’re sufficiently frozen by the time the bus finally arrives. Yoongi pays for you both because he’s trying to make life easy. No bumps in the road, no unnecessary stress. He lets you sit in a window seat so you can stare out at the blurry night scenery and have your sad main character moment for as long as it takes to get to your apartment.
Once you arrive, he follows you inside and heads straight to the kitchen while you slump down the hall to your bedroom. The cold seeps so deeply into your bones that the sweatpants and sweater you change into barely help increase your body temperature.
Maybe it’s because the sweatpants and sweater are your ex-boyfriend’s, and the universe wants to keep your body as cold as his heart was.
In the kitchen, Yoongi uses a wooden spoon to stir hot chocolate in a small pot, your favorite kind that comes in a block of chocolate that melts with milk. It’s likely been years since Yoongi has made you hot chocolate. Cozy winter nights indoors were once commonplace, the two of you alternating between apartments to make each other snacks and treat cuddles like currency. The appearance of your ex put an end to the comfort you shared with Yoongi. It put an end to most things that brought you comfort.
As you expect, Yoongi has two mugs out on the counter. You reach for yours, twisting it in your hands as you wait for him to finish.
“Remember when Spongebob tried to become best friends with Squidward instead of Patrick?” Yoongi asks, turning off the stove. He uses a ladle to pour hot chocolate into his pink mug, then pours some into your yellow one.
“Yes.”
“He was Squidward. I’m just mad I didn’t get to blow up his house–” Yoongi laughs and nearly spills his drink when you smack him in the arm, “–with bubbles! With bubbles. I’m not homicidal.”
Rolling your eyes, you set down your mug next to Yoongi’s, both drinks too hot to drink quickly.
“Thank you,” you mumble, hooking your finger into his hoodie pocket and tugging lightly, the action absentminded. You keep your eyes cast downward because you don’t want him to see your tears if they run. “I’m sorry I’ve been in such a shitty mood. I know it’s been a while, but, it just… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about him, and everything fucking hurts…”
Yoongi slips his fingers under your sleeve and circles your wrist, pulling your hand away from his pocket so he can lace your fingers together. They’re so much warmer now, defrosted by the heat blasting through your apartment and Yoongi’s hot chocolate.
“Maybe you could start by not wearing his clothes?” Yoongi offers quietly. “Can’t imagine it’s easy to get over someone when you keep them on your body like that.”
You sniffle and nod. Again, Yoongi is always right.
“Easier said than done…” you mumble, giving him a weak smile when you finally meet his eyes. There’s something there in his expression, something that seems different.
You don’t move away when Yoongi steps closer, even when he has you backed against the counter, even when you feel like you’re going to swallow your heart.
“I could take them off for you,” Yoongi says softly. He lets go of your sleeve to pinch the hem of your sweater, tugging it lightly. “If you can’t do it, I can.”
“Yeah?” You feel out of breath, maybe because you suck in your stomach when Yoongi’s fingers brush against it.
“Yeah,” he echoes, fingers sliding along your ribs as he pushes your sweater up. “So you can get over him.”
It’s a terrible idea, but your stomach flutters when he looks at you with sleepy eyes weighed down by the late hour and lust. He bites his bottom lip, and you feel your resolve slip as easily as Yoongi’s fingers do beneath your clothes.
“I want to.” The declaration is desperate, and for a moment, you can’t do anything but stare into Yoongi’s eyes with an all-consuming sadness that eats at your insides, gnawing on bones and biting holes into your lungs. “God, Yoongi, I want to.”
Yoongi touches his forehead to yours, making you close your eyes because he’s too close and you’re too much of a coward.
“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispers. His voice is as gentle as his hands on your bare waist, his thumbs caressing your sensitive skin.
You raise your arms for Yoongi to pull off your sweater. He’s confident when he squeezes your tits, doesn’t even seem caught off guard when he realizes you’re not wearing anything under the sweater. He brushes his thumbs over your nipples as he leans in to kiss you, his tongue tasting sweet from the hot chocolate when he flicks it against yours.
“Yoongi,” you call out with an airy sigh that harmonizes nicely with the sound of him sucking open-mouthed kisses down your neck.
“Hmm?” Yoongi hums against the base of your throat, the vibration sending a tingling sensation straight to your clit. He keeps one hand on the counter beside your waist, caging you in, while his other hand cups your pussy over your sweatpants.
“Oh,” you gasp, your hands immediately finding Yoongi’s firm shoulders when he starts rubbing your clit, occasionally dipping his fingers lower to press against your entrance, soaking the fabric.
“These are his, too, right?”
“Y-yes,” you moan as Yoongi pulls down your sweatpants, taking your underwear with them.
You can’t say you never thought about how attractive Yoongi is; it’s hard to ignore. It’s just that Yoongi is your best friend. If anything were to happen between the two of you, you don’t know if you’d be able to survive losing him, too. You love him.
But you also love your ex.
It’s hard to think about that, though, with two of Yoongi’s fingers pumping in and out of your pussy. They’re long, reaching deeper than your own can when you finger yourself, always late at night when you’re lonely. It never feels good after. The clarity always seems to hit too quickly, like being dunked in a pool of ice water.
Three months. That’s how long it’s been since another person touched you, since you found out your ex-boyfriend had been cheating on you. You didn’t realize how much you missed it until you’ve got your head thrown back and your thighs quivering as Yoongi fucks you with his fingers. You nearly climb up the counter, both wanting him to touch you more and trying to get away because it’s too good.
Your ex never searched for the spot that would make your legs shake, but Yoongi does. He curls his fingers against your front wall and keeps up his rhythm, moving with your body when you can’t control where it goes.
“Fuck, right there.” You’re burning up, veins turned to lava that’s rushing toward your core as Yoongi fucks you closer and closer to your orgasm until you’re on the verge of tears because you haven’t been touched in so long and you’re so lonely and you weren’t good enough. You weren’t enough.
“Wanna make you cum,” Yoongi groans, deep and gravelly, between licking a stripe up your tits and sucking your nipples.
“Please,” you moan, “Please, I’m so close.”
Your arousal gushes around his fingers, slicking them up and making your pussy squelch when Yoongi flutters them inside you. He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, almost too hard. It stops you from bucking your hips, but you can barely stand as it is.
Yoongi’s lips are back on yours, red from sucking your nipples until it hurt. He whispers against your lips and opens his mouth to let you suck on his tongue with a pathetic whimper.
“Not yet, though.”
“Wha– Yoongi, no–” It’s embarrassing how loudly you cry out when Yoongi slips his fingers out of your pussy. You feel the fire in your core simmer until you’re left with a painfully throbbing clit and your juices smeared on your inner thighs.
“Shhh, you know I always take care of you.” Yoongi shuts you up with a bite to your bottom lip. He leans down slightly to squeeze the backs of your thighs and hoist you up onto the counter. “Lean back.”
The cold marble counter sends shivers across your body, but it can’t keep up with the heat of Yoongi’s mouth on your pussy. He kisses your lips so gently that you think you might actually cry before he pushes your thighs back, opening you up.
“Oh fuck,” you moan as Yoongi goes straight for your clit, sucking on it as he swirls his tongue around it. You dig your hands into his hair and tug the strands hard enough to make him moan into your pussy. “Use your, use–”
Yoongi laps at your clit in quick, consistent bursts that fall in line with the tempo he’s fucking you to with two fingers again. His free hand presses against your lower abdomen, keeping your body taunt so you don’t buck into his face or curl inward. It’s bad enough that you can’t stop your legs from shaking when one rests on his shoulder and the other drapes over the crook of his arm.
It’s messy and loud, Yoongi licking and sucking your pussy like he really is trying to empty your mind of everything but the way the tip of his hot, wet tongue feels swirling your clit and the stretch of his fingers when he slips a third inside you and focuses on massaging the sensitive part of your walls. It’s working. He completely consumes your senses, down to how gorgeous he looks staring at you from between your thighs.
Your Yoongi, fingerfucking you and sucking your clit like you’re his favorite meal.
You try not to bang your head against the counter when you finally cum, instead focusing the overwhelming energy into pulling Yoongi’s hair to keep his face in your pussy.
He continues fucking you with his fingers through your orgasm, to the point that you can’t lie still any longer.
“Yoongi, oh my god, Yoongi, it’s too much,” you whimper and gasp, thighs closing around his head until he finally eases his fingers out of you.
Strings of your arousal connect his lips with your pussy until he swipes his tongue along his bottom lip, cutting them off. His bangs are pushed off his forehead and his hair sticks up from you pulling on it, but his eyes sparkle and his cheeks are just as rosy as his pink, slicked-up lips.
“Shit,” Yoongi murmurs, leaning over you on the counter to kiss you. He shoves his tongue in your mouth and lets you suck your juices from it.
You think you taste better on Yoongi’s tongue than on your ex’s.
Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.
All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.
@jooniesxbby @seokteoksworld @taegeum @dprmoon @chimmisbae
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HEAR ME OUT!! ollie thinking felix is single right, hanging out at oxford and everything and then one night felix is nowhere to be seen and he finds him with a girl. turns out feliz is vv much not single but ollie knows her as the smart girl of the school so he's shocked by the pairing?!?!?!
Who would've thought? || Felix Catton x reader
A/n: I actually hate how I did this but oh well, also, my first felix catton fic did so well so quickly!!!! so happy you guys enjoyed it :)
Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, drinking, idk rlly im so bad w my warnings 😭
Wc: 764
Felix Catton Masterlist
"Gorgeous, isn't he?" Your voice causes Oliver to flinch as he whips his head to where the sound of your voice came from. "W-what-" He stammers. You giggle at his behaviour, taking a long drag from the cigarette before dropping it to the ground and stepping on it.
"I see the way you stare at him, Ollie. I don't blame you though, he's a sight for sore eyes," You sigh, leaning your head against the wall, watching Felix with his friends.
Oliver didn't know what to say. He only stared at you before gravitating his gaze back to Felix. Oliver knew you as one of the smartest girls at school, your grades rivalling with his.
"You can admit it. He's gorgeous." You open your mouth again, turning your head at Oliver with a grin. He gulps. "I-uhm-" He began before you interrupt him, "Come on, Ollie" Your tone was playful.
"He's gorgeous." Oliver quickly replied as you smile. You push yourself off the wall, patting Ollie's shoulder before leaving him standing there dumbfounded.
~
"Fuck!" You curse as you feel the hot liquid cascade down your front. You let out a loud groan, throwing your coffee cup in a nearby bin. "I'm so sorry-" "It's fine! Completely fine," You mutter to the idiot who bumped into you because his eyes was trained on a book.
You let out a deep sigh, checking your watch. You would be late if you turned back around to change. "Hey! Y/n!" You hear a voice call out from behind you. Turning your head you spot Oliver coming your way on his bike.
“Hey?” you greet him with a hint of confusion. Without a word, he unzips his backpack, pulling out a plaid shirt. “Wear this to cover the spill,” he suggests, a warm smile accompanying the gesture. You conceal any distaste with a subtle expression, graciously accepting the offered shirt.
“Uhm-” “Just return it later when you can,” he cuts you off, not giving you time to answer before riding off. You stand there, looking down at the plaid shirt, before letting out a sigh and slipping it on.
“Cute shirt, babe,” your boyfriend chuckles, and you respond with an eye roll, sitting down with a loud huff escaping your lips. “Don’t even. Some idiot bumped into me on the way here,” you mutter, opening your notebook aggressively.
Farleigh strolls in, joining the two of you, “Woah, loving the shirt, y/n. Where’d you get it from? The charity shop?” He jokes, prompting you to scowl at him. He raises his hands in surrender as Felix’s chuckles resonate beside you.
“Jesus, what’s got your panties tied up in a knot?” he laughs, taking a seat beside you while you choose to ignore him. Suddenly, Felix exclaims, “Oh, shit! Farleigh, we gotta go. Professor Davies wants to see us,” checking his watch before swiftly getting up.
Farleigh vents his frustration with a groan, “Sorry, babe. See you later?” Felix plants a kiss on your cheek, and you nod in response, waving the two boys off before redirecting your focus to the notebook in front of you.
“Hey,” you raise your head to find Oliver approaching. Flashing a warm smile, you greet him with a friendly, “Hi Oliver,” your attention briefly returning to your book as he stands there, exuding a hint of awkwardness.
“I’ll make sure to return your shirt once it’s washed,” you reassure him, receiving a silent nod in acknowledgment. Returning to your book, you shift your attention back to him, “Is there anything else you need?” He nervously scratches his neck. “Do you mind if I study with you?” His question catches you slightly off-guard.
“Absolutely, feel free,” you graciously respond, rearranging your belongings to create space for him to settle. A warm smile graces his face as he takes the offered seat, expressing gratitude with a simple “Thanks.” You reciprocate with a light chuckle, assuring him, “No problem at all.”
~
“He is such a nerd,” Farleigh snorts as you roll your eyes, your fingers moving to play with Felix’s necklace around his neck. Noticing your quietness, Felix looks at you on his lap. “You okay?” He says quietly as you hum, taking a sip out of his glass, before pressing your cheek against his, your eyes wandering around the table.
“I should probably go now, I don’t wanna study too late,” You let out a quiet sigh as you get up from your boyfriend’s lap. Felix lends a helping hand to adjust your skirt, smoothly guiding the denim down while playfully patting your ass, accompanied by a mischievous grin.
“Where are you going? It’s still so early!” Annabel shoots you a disapproving frown from across the table. “I really need to study for that test tomorrow,” you respond, the playful boos from others resonating as you playfully roll your eyes.
“Listen, I’ll buy the next round yeah?” Your offer is met with enthusiastic hoots as you chuckle. Rounds tend to be costly, especially with our group, but being part of a wealthy family, the expense doesn’t faze you.
Felix joins you in fetching the drinks before you wave at your group and make your exit. Outside, the cool night air embraces you as you walk down the stairs, and a twinge of regret sets in over your choice of attire.
Lost in thought, you accidentally collide with someone. Looking up, you find yourself face to face with Oliver, whose initial surprise transforms into recognition. “Oh, Oliver, hey,” you manage a smile, and he reciprocates it warmly.
“Hey. You headin’ back?” He gestures behind him with his thumb, and you nod, “Yeah, studying for that test we have tomorrow morning.” A chuckle escapes you as he nods, an awkward silence settling between the two of you.
“Is it, uh, busy in there?” Oliver speaks up. “Hm? Oh. Uhm, no, not really,” you shake your head. Another moment of silence follows. “Listen, Ollie, I should really get going,” you purse your lips as he moves aside. “Yeah, of course,” he offers you a warm smile, and you nod your head, walking away.
~
Over the course of the next couple days. Felix and Oliver had become very good friends. You would hear Felix’s recounts of his day when the two of you were entangled in each others arms and it always included Oliver.
The party rolled around and you found yourself dancing with Felix, your ass on his crotch as the two of you seamlessly moved to Sexyback.
With one hand cradling a red plastic cup filled with alcohol, and the other clasping a partially smoked cigarette, Felix guided your hips skillfully, his touch resting casually on your hipbone.
“You look so fuckin’ hot,” Felix exclaimed loudly over the music as you smirk to yourself, already abit tipsy. “Do you wanna go somewhere?” You reply back to him, turning around as he eagerly nods.
You giggle to yourself, knowing what the rest of the night would consist of. Fucking Felix. You stumbled as Felix pulled you along the house. “Fuck, these heels,” You moan in annoyance.
Eager to reach his dorm quicjly, Felix scooped you up in a bridal carry, one arm under your knees and the other supporting your back. A light squeal escaped you, drawing the attention of those around, their curious stares following the two of you.
The second he shut the door behind him, your clothes littered his room as he ravenously attacked your lips, his hands roaming around your body as you let out quiet moans, enjoying the way they groped every inch of your body.
Meanwhile, Oliver was roaming around the party, completely and utterly bored. He first wandered around looking for someone he knew, but that was only three people. You, Felix, and Michael. Michael wouldn’t even be there, so just you or Felix.
Acknowledging the fact that neither you or Felix were here, Oliver’s gaze fell on Farleigh at the other end of the room. With a joint in hand, reclining on the couch, Oliver decided to test his luck and headed in Farleigh’s direction.
“Do you know where Felix is?” Farleigh looks Oliver up and down before raising an eyebrow at him. “Why do you wanna know?” His tone was flat, bored from talking with Oliver already.
“Just wonderin’,” Oliver shrugged awkwardly. Farleigh, taking a long drag, nonchalantly answered, “He went back to his dorm, I think,” his tone uninterested as he flicked ash from his joint.
“Thanks,” Oliver nods his head before turning around. The walk to Felix’s dorm was all too familiar for him, often spending time there whenever he and Felix hung out.
He knocks on the door. No response. He knocked again. Still no response. Oliver then tried the door handle, twisting it only to find it unlocked. Opening the door with a loud creak as his eyes look around the dimly lit interior of Felix’s room.
“Felix-“ Oliver cuts himself off as he realises what he just walked in on. A feminine gasp reached his ears as he instinctively tried to avert his gaze. “For fuck’s sake, mate!” Felix’s irritated voice resonated, accompanied by the rustling of sheets in the room.
Felix quickly moves to cover the both of you as you screw your eyes shut. “Can’t you fuckin’ knock Ollie?” Felix exasperates as he slips on his boxers, his frame still covering you from Ollie’s eyes.
"Sorry, the door was unlocked, so I thought-" Oliver began, but Felix cut him off, "Yeah, well, you thought wrong," accompanied by an annoyed chuckle. You reached for Felix's shirt, slipping it on as you sat on the bed.
Oliver couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity at who Felix was fucking; there was no denying it. It couldn’t have been Annabel or India—two girls he's often heard talking about Felix as if they were together—both of them were at the party when he left. So who was it? “Seriously mate. If I don’t answer, I’m either not here or don’t want to answer,” Felix runs his hands through his hair.
He was very bothered that he was interrupted. Felix hated being interrupted in the middle of things. Especially sex with you. “Felix, it’s okay,” You rest your hand on his shoulder as he looks back at you.
Oliver's jaw hung open, frozen in a momentary state of shock, as your head playfully emerged beside Felix. His eyes widened as he tried to process the unexpected sight before him. A cascade of questions flooded his mind, evident in the incredulous expression on his face. "Hi, Ollie," you greeted with a light chuckle, amusement dancing in your eyes as you observed his stunned reaction.
The air seemed charged with a mixture of surprise and curiosity as Oliver stammered through his words, attempting to articulate the myriad of questions racing through his mind. "I- What- Are you two-" he fumbled, his sentences colliding in his attempt to understand the situation unfolding before him.
Felix, ever nonchalant, cut through the awkward tension with a matter-of-fact tone. "She's my girlfriend," he stated, his words hanging in the air. As if to emphasize the point, you casually moved to sit on Felix's lap.
A moment of stunned silence enveloped Oliver. Felix had a girlfriend, and it was you. The revelation hit him with unexpected force, leaving him momentarily breathless. Questions swirled in his mind, and he couldn't comprehend why no one had ever mentioned it before.
"Why do you look so shocked, Ollie?" Felix chuckled, a lighthearted tone in his voice, while you added to the teasing atmosphere with a playful giggle. You could practically sense Oliver's head spinning with the unasked questions, creating an intriguing air of mystery around the situation.
Oliver's eyebrows furrowed slightly, his expression a mix of confusion and surprise as he processed the unexpected pairing. He released a nonchalant shrug, attempting to mask the internal whirlwind of thoughts.
"No one’s ever said anything about it, I just assumed you both were single," he admitted, his eyes fixed on you and Felix. Oliver's head continued to shake in a subtle attempt to grasp the reality of you being in a relationship with Felix.
A faint smile played on your lips as you tilted your head at him, a touch of amusement in your gaze. "You never asked," you pointed out casually, your words hanging in the air. Oliver's lips formed a perfect 'O' as he absorbed the implication, silently nodding in acknowledgment.
The room was then engulfed in an awkward silence, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the atmosphere. Sensing the discomfort, Oliver took the initiative to break the tension. "Uhm, I should get going," he announced, his hand absently scratching the back of his head. Felix, understanding the unspoken cue, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, go ahead."
Oliver's lips pursed, his gaze flickering between you and Felix, caught in a moment of realization. With a slightly awkward smile, you innocently waved at him. "Bye, Ollie!" you chimed in a light-hearted manner, attempting to alleviate the awkwardness as he leaves the dorm.
Felix couldn't hide his amusement. "You really didn't tell him?" he asked, breaking the silence with a playful smile as he looked down at you. In response, you innocently shrugged. "I didn't think it was that necessary to bring it up, besides, he really never asked."
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we can’t be friends.
a little fake dating situation in which eddie must pretend to be your boyfriend to keep up pretences, but then feelings start to become hazy and now he’s not sure if you could ever be just friends again.
a/n: i’m reading this back and actually not liking it as much as i first did hahahaah but i hope you enjoy!! i just wanted to reiterate my hate for the duffers and the fact that they didn’t give him any other t-shirt other than that dang hellfire one>:(
18+. mdni. smut. mentions of bad parent/s. modern au i guess but it’s hardly mentioned. no use of y/n!
eddie wasn’t expecting to walk in to you so stressed.
it was the usual thursday movie night but you’d answered the door with a green complexion and the look of a deer in headlights.
“what’s wrong?” he perplexes, shutting the door behind him as you continue to pace the living room floor.
you sigh, blinking at him as you stop for a few seconds. you’re contemplating something, sizing him up with your eyes narrowed. it makes him a little unsettled if he’s honest.
“next week, are you free?”
“what?” wondering what the hell that had to do with your nervous exterior.
“are you free?” you press.
“uh.. probably, why?” not an inch of sense in your words.
“you wanna come on vacation with me? i mean- it’s not so much a vacation but a family reunion, but can you come?” chewing on your fingernail.
“when? what? why?” rattling through all of his questions all at once.
you sigh again, frustrated with his lack of understanding, “family reunion, i can’t do it alone eds..” your hands cycle around the air, “josh was supposed to come with me but obviously.. that’s not happening so can you come?”
eddie’s face finally un-scrunches. it all made sense now.
you’d spoken enough about your crazy parents and subsequently just why you’d moved halfway across the country to get away from them to understand why you didn’t want to go on your own.
he’d also been elated when you’d told him that you and josh had broken up. eddie had never liked him, in fact, if were given the chance, he thinks he’d punch him square in the face.
that hadn’t really helped you of course, so he kept it mostly to himself. but if the opportunity were ever to arise, he’d do it. no shame.
“oh, shit, why didn’t you just ask me in the first place?” he laughs, rolling in his eyes in jest as he collapses on the couch.
“i’ve asked everyone.. and i mean, everyone and they couldn’t, i was scared!” your body relaxes, coming to join him on the couch.
“oh thanks,” eddie scoffs, “so i was the last resort?”
“no,” you prod him in the side, “i didn’t think you’d wanna come, that’s all.”
“yeah right,” chuckling as you hand him a beer, “i don’t mind, i’ll suffer for you,” popping the lid off and taking a swig.
“thank you,” you exhale, leaning back against the couch, “really. it means a lot.”
“so what are we doing? skiing? sightseeing?” eddie probes, making himself comfortable.
you scoff, “oh no, it’s at my aunt’s beach house in illinois.. it’s big enough for you to have your own room and shit, you’ll just have to pretend to like craft beer and talk baseball with my dad.”
eddie’s head hits the back of the couch, groaning loudly, “baseball? man, i dunno if i can make it anymore.”
you throw him the dirtiest glare, “you’re not funny.”
despite your words, he falls into a fit of laughter truly not making your scowl any lesser. he knows you appreciate him deep down, given the fact that you hadn’t hit him yet.
-
the drive across indiana isn’t too bad, eddie only wishes he hadn’t let you control the music for the entirety of the journey.
“just..” you exhale, glancing warily over at him from the passenger seat, “just be normal, okay? don’t let them piss you off,” nodding with every word.
“you don’t trust me?” he grins, earning a deathly glare. “i won’t piss them off.. don’t worry,” turning his sarcastic mocking into kindness.
your eyes squeeze shut before you slide out of the door, doubting your choice to bring eddie along.
your parents open the door with a wide smile and their arms extended, pulling you in before looking over at eddie, obviously slightly taken aback with the man at their door.
he offers his hand out, “i’m eddie, nice to meet you sir,” feeling very judged and not at all surprised, not with all your horror stories.
your dad takes his hand, gripping on tight as he eyes him up and down, “so this is the boyfriend,” humming quietly, “it’s good to finally meet you, son.”
eddie freezes, eyes sliding from your parents to you to find you in the exact same position.
boyfriend?
“uh..” you fumble, mouth opening and closing somewhat like a fish, “yes! yes.. this is him,” chuckling nervously.
oh shit.
his week of rest and relaxation was about to become a week of performing and lies.
you watch eddie anxiously, your eyes speaking a thousand words. praying he doesn’t mess up, doesn’t embarrass you in front of them.
“yeah.. yeah, that’s me,” he nods hurriedly, going to shake your mom’s hand, “lovely to meet you.. miss.”
now eddie wasn’t opposed to pretending to be your boyfriend but fuck, really? he needed at least a week to prepare and rehearse, rather than you throwing him into a week of improvisation at a whim.
the literal second the door to your shared bedroom shuts, eddie spins on his heel, jaw clenched with an exasperated expression.
“what the fuck?” he whispers, rather loudly.
“i’m sorry!” you hush back, eyes wide, “i- i.. i didn’t have a choice! fuck, i’m really sorry,” anger turning to regret as you flop onto the bed, head in hands.
well great. now he feels guilty. you’re almost sobbing when he joins you on the bed, pressing his lips together in frustration.
“hey! it’s fine.. it’s fine,” he assures, “shit, it’ll be fun,” bumping his shoulder into yours playfully.
you sniffle pathetically, looking up at him with tearful eyes, “i’m really sorry.. i panicked,” bottom lip wobbling.
god, you look like the reincarnation of bambi.
his heart pangs, guilt wracking his chest for the slight overreaction.
“i know,” nodding slightly, “it’s okay.. it’ll be funny, you know?” he’s not sure that it’ll be anymore funny than it’ll be stressful, but he’s prepared to see this week through.
for you.
-
it’s the little things that make a relationship a relationship. things eddie hadn’t ever considered.
like the seemingly insignificant touches and the casual kisses. all things he now had to meticulously plan and prepare for.
nothing was ever too much. a gentle peck on the cheek or a graze of the knee. things no one would really notice unless you weren’t doing them.
you grab his hand walking to the table for dinner and he almost starts cackling until he remembers, now hoping that his palm wasn’t sweating too much.
that night in bed, you turn to face him, tiny smile creeping onto your face, “i think my cousin likes you, i mean- did you see the look on her face when you walked into dinner?”
eddie lets his phone fall onto his chest, flabbergasted at your suggestion, “what are you talking about?”
you hit his arm, furrowing your brows, “c’mon, she was totally checking you out, don’t pretend you didn’t notice,” rolling your eyes in jest.
if he’s honest, he really didn’t notice.
he’d been too preoccupied by you in that damn dress to care about anyone else at the table.
eddie didn’t get to see you dressed up often and the dress was sitting just right, he couldn’t exactly focus on much else.
“oh, are you getting jealous?” he mocks.
you tut, shaking your head, “maybe after we’ve fake-broken up you two can get together.”
“you are jealous,” he laughs, sliding his phone onto the nightstand and settles into bed, “what if i don’t wanna fake-break up?” only half-serious as he says it.
“well then i’ll get a fake-restraining order against you,” poking your tongue out before turning the lamp off. “goodnight, eddie,” he can hear the smile in your voice as you roll over.
there’s a quiet, niggling little voice somewhere in the back of his mind. or maybe it’s his heart speaking.
whatever it is, he doesn’t feel the need to acknowledge it. at least not right now anyway.
-
eddie supposes that a vacation at your aunt’s beach house would entail seeing you in little clothing but he can’t help the little woah from leaving his mouth when you walk out of the bathroom in a tiny bikini top.
“don’t be fucking weird,” you frown, eyes trailing down to his hot dog swimming trunks.
“i’m not!” he exclaims, still trying to draw his eyes away from your chest, “i’ve just never seen.. them,” eyes widening at your revealing bikini.
your eyes roll to the back of your head, expressing your disgust with a small groan.
the entire day is made significantly harder by your top, or lack thereof. eddie finds his gaze slipping downward and every so often has to remind himself that he’s not actually your boyfriend and he doesn’t have the rights to ogle you.
it’s just hard to focus on a thing your dad says to him when you’re sat in front of him like that.
his limits are tested when your cousin suggests a game of tennis. already calling eddie for her team as you get into position on the opposite side of the court.
perhaps you were right, her unnecessary, constant touching sent alarm bells ringing in his head. not that he’s paying it any mind, too distracted by your chest as you bound around the court.
so much so, he completely misses the ball, letting it bounce off of the court and into a hedge somewhere.
“eddie!” she shrieks, running off to collect the ball.
your eyes lock from over the net, your brows threaded together, “how about we swap teams? you join me,” pointing your finger at his face, gesturing for him to join you, which he does with a smile.
mostly just glad to be away from her wandering hands but also, he gets to prove a point.
“you are jealous,” eddie smirks, hushed tones as he speaks into your ear. you’re so close now, enough to touch.
he wants to.
he wants to so bad.
even if it were just to make your cousin seethe with envy.
“me? never,” smacking your racket gently at his leg, earning a nasty glare from your unhappy cousin who smacks the ball far too harshly towards him.
-
he’s too hot and bothered to do much after such an exciting game of tennis, walking in stride with you as you enter the large house. blabbering away about something or nothing when your mom announces her presence rather loudly.
“oh god,” pulling a face as she eyes your outfit, “you really should coverup sweetie, nobody wants to see that,” cackling away to herself.
eddie’s floored, utterly stunned that she’d ever say something like that, let alone to your face. your despairing expression stabs him in the heart, choking him from the inside out.
“well i do,” grinning at the lady in front of him.
“of course you do, you’re a man,” the older woman sighs, “i think it’s a little disgusting to just.. have everything out there,” gesturing to your chest, “women should have pride in their appearance, you know?”
you blink, chewing the inside of your lip as you nod. shrinking into yourself as you glide up the stairs. in an ideal world, he’d call her a bitch and move on with his life, however, he supposes that probably wouldn’t be wise.
she tuts, shaking her head at the stairs, “she’s always so offended.. can’t say a thing to her.”
eddie bites his tongue, diverting from what he truly wanted to say to offer some mild criticism, “maybe you shouldn’t have said anything at all,” shrugging as he flies past her and up the stairs, hot on your trail.
the bedroom’s empty though the en-suite door is closed, a muffled sniff coming from the other side. he hates that she’s made you cry, that she’s capable of even making you feel bad when you had absolutely zero reason to.
his knuckles rap against the door, pressing his cheek to the wood, “it’s me.”
there’s a small scuffle and then the lock clicks though the door remains closed. having to console you after the amazing afternoon you’d had feels wrong.
he creeps inside, closing the door behind him. you’re slouched on the toilet, tears leaking down your warm cheeks. it’s a punch to the gut to see you like this. all those harsh stories you’d recalled to him suddenly made a shit ton of sense.
“you okay?” eddie asks, the answer already overwhelmingly obvious.
“yeah,” you sigh, wiping your sodden cheeks, sniffling for good measure.
“you shouldn’t listen to her,” he affirms, perching on the bathtub, “don’t let her upset you.. it’s not worth it,” although his words probably fall on deaf ears, you already know this.
“i know..” staring up at him with your puppy dog eyes, “i’m sorry, she just.. ugh,” snarling your lip, “she knows how to make me feel like shit.”
“what the hell are you apologising to me for?” eddie jokes, poking you in the arm, “she’s just jealous,” choosing wisely where to go from here, “she doesn’t look as good as you do and she doesn’t like that.”
his words crack a tiny smile on your lips, mission accomplished.
“thanks,” you nod, “i mean that. thank you for even coming with me.. i couldn’t do it without you.”
his heart swells a little, or a lot really.
this is a dangerous game, he thinks. wanting nothing more than to cradle you in his arms.. blur the boundaries a little more.
how much more blurred could they possibly get before eddie had to admit to his feelings?
he’s not sure he wants to find out.
-
on reflection, it had been a pretty good week. at least eddie thinks so, pretending to be your boyfriend wasn’t exactly normal or anything he’d ever pictured himself doing. but he’s enjoyed it nonetheless.
despite a new found, deep hatred for your mother, he doesn’t think the rest of your family were that bad. willing to volunteer for any other vacations you might be forced to drag him on.
nowhere near as testing as he once thought it would be. in reality, the hardest part about it all was that he had to go home alone tomorrow.
as both of you lounge on the bed, the tv prattling on in the background, he smiles, gently elbowing you in the side.
“y’know this week has been fun,” reminiscing on all the stupid things he’s had to do to sell this story.
one night, you had helped yourself to a little too much wine. stumbling all over the vast garden as your family watched on in horror. so eddie did what any good boyfriend would do and slung you over his shoulder, giggling into his back as he manoeuvred his way up to your room.
not only the public displays of affection come back to him, but also the seemingly minuscule ones. where only you were involved. sneaky laughs and glances that only the two of you could understand.
“mhm,” you hum, sliding your bookmark into your book, “it has, thank you for doing this,” before leaning over to place your book onto the bedside table.
“i’ve enjoyed it,” he meets your eye, that same uncomfortable fluttering starts again in his chest, “being your ‘boyfriend’ i mean.”
you shuffle, turning to face him properly, “well.. i’ve enjoyed being your girlfriend,” lips twitching into a smile.
there’s something in the silence, a tension that feels ready to burst.
eddie does something he might live to regret, something so idiotic and foolish that put your entire friendship at risk.
he leans forward, hastily connecting your lips in what must be the world’s most awkward kiss.
you hesitate for too long of a moment, jerking your head back to stare into his eyes.
he’s done it. he’s ruined the single best thing he had left.
an apology begins to form on his tongue but your lips silence him, your hand finding his cheek to bring him closer. eddie’s eyes fall shut, slowly accepting this, that you wanted it too.
he repositions himself, at your mercy as you tug on his hair, now hovering above your body, elbows sinking into the mattress.
he can feel you now, your chest brushing against his, the way your heart rate seems to match his, thumping away in your chest.
“we should.. we should stop,” eddie pulls away, breathlessly panting with your lips still tracing over one another.
“no.. no,” you shake your head, your eyes shiny and full of something he can’t place.
“what?”
“kiss me again,” you demand.
he’s not quite certain he’s hearing you right. fear had forced him to tear himself away but now you were asking for him to do it again?
eddie falters for a second too long, forcing you into kissing him, smashing your lips to his as your fingers scramble to find the back of his neck under his hair.
oh my god oh my god oh my god.
your entire family are in this house and he’s going to desecrate this innocent bed with you, his fake-girlfriend.
he feels your knee slide up his thigh, allowing him more space between your legs. now it’s more than just your chests meshed together, his poor sweatpants tightening with every slight buck of your hips. blood rushing to his cock as you gasp and sigh into his mouth.
he has to pull himself back into the room when your hand slides from his neck to his crotch, lightly tracing over his throbbing cock.
making out could be easily laughed off but this- this was serious.
“you.. you wanna do this?” he asks, gasping for breath as you continue to kiss at the side of his mouth.
“i want to do this,” you reaffirm, dipping your hand into the waistband of his sweatpants, drawing out a hoarse groan from his throat.
your hand wraps around the base of his cock, leaving a trail of kisses to his jaw.
his eyelids flutter, struggling to stay open as you start pumping your fist, thumb circling his leaking tip.
“oh my god,” eddie breathes, jolting his hips into your fist.
this entire week he had been internalising all of these intrusive thoughts and feelings about you and now it felt like he might genuinely cum all over your hand, not even five minutes into this.
it doesn’t at all help when you’re panting and writhing around underneath him, delicate fingers making him feel like he’s flying.
“f-fuck,” he stutters, grabbing your forearm, “you have to stop,” regaining just enough composure to reopen his eyes.
“why?” concern rippling through your voice.
now he falters, gazing into your lust filled eyes, pupils all blown out and crazy. it would be despicable if he were to divulge his embarrassing secret to you.
so he takes your arm, pinning it above your head before starting his descent, a paper chain of kisses and light grazings down your neck and chest.
it’s entirely too intimate for just friends, fake relationship or not.
“oh,” you sigh, head rolling back onto the pillow.
eddie has control now, regaining power without a damn clue of what to do with it. your shorts come down with his free hand with a little help from you, your ankle now comes to rest on his shoulder.
he should feel stronger than he does, rather more intimidated and fearful that he’s going to disappoint.
“please..” you pout, “please touch me,” he wonders if you can sense his anxiety.
he lets go of his grip on your wrist, trailing down your quivering body until he meets your lower stomach. this new position allows him access to your heat, wet and waiting for him.
“shit,” he mutters, sliding a solitary finger between your slick folds, watching as your chest heaves in response. “you’re so pretty,” he can’t help but blurt out.
“shut up and touch me,” you snap, chasing his touch with your hips.
eddie’s not going to deprive you of that now, is he?
circling around your clit, noting the way you groan and grab onto his arm. not that he thinks that there’ll ever be a second time for this.
your eager hands grab at his sweatpants, hoping that that’ll be enough of a hint.
he’s not going to last long, that’s for certain.
fed up with his stalling, you tug his sweatpants down, aiding him in sliding them off and onto the floor with a muffled thump.
your arms fan out across the mattress, glancing down at the minimal space between your bodies and then back into his eyes.
his entire body shudders as he slides into your eager cunt, bumbling through all of the profanity in his vocabulary. watching as your jaw falls slack, wary that you couldn’t make too much noise.
perhaps it was the fact that he’d been brushing off any even slightly sexual thought for an entire week or maybe it was just true but eddie swears that no one had ever felt this good before.
“fuck,” he wails, hips slamming against the backs of your thighs, digging his fingertips into the soft, mailable flesh of your hip.
just the way you grip onto the blanket makes him dizzy, letting his eyesight go hazy, a blurred picture of you sprawled underneath him.
the pleasure is insurmountable, something snapping in his stomach when your hand reaches out for him, gripping onto his forearm.
“eds,” you gasp, just loud enough over his barely contained grunts, “more,” sickening eyes doing all the work for you.
there’s not much more of him left to give, already nudging against your soft spot, repositioning your calf higher on his shoulder to allow him deeper, receiving a sweet whimper in return.
“yeah,” you pant, over and over, fingernails latching onto his skin. his arms start to shake, still holding himself up over you as his orgasm begins to catch up with him.
“shit.. i don’t- i don’t think..” eddie swallows, struggling to stay composed as you tighten around him, looking up at him through batting eyelashes.
it makes his stomach twist, barely able to move as his high comes crashing down, overtaking his senses, sweaty bodies colliding as he collapses on top of you.
“oh shit.. oh my god,” he whines, release painting your thigh, the sheet and even your fucking t-shirt.
he’s not ready for a child but he’s certain that’d have been worth it.
eddie glances at you, subsequently moving from your body onto the mattress. the entire high he had been feeling comes tumbling down, now faced with the reality that you were no longer just friends.
the ceiling becomes incredibly interesting, both of you avoiding eye contact as the silence somehow grows louder.
for a room that was just full of lewd, filthy noises, it sure is quiet now.
the blanket rustles and eddie dares a peek, you stand at the edge of the bed, disheveled and still slightly flustered.
you look down at the stain he had left, tutting quietly, “thanks a lot.. gonna have to change now,” adding a soft chuckle.
“sorry.. cheaper than a baby though,” adding to your banter, it’s indescribable the relief he feels.
eddie watches as you rummage around in your suitcase, no longer shying away as you pull your shirt over your head, shimmying into your clean clothes.
when you rejoin him in bed, the tension is mostly gone, the lamp clicking off, encompassing the room in total and utter darkness.
there’s a further moment of silence wherein eddie isn’t sure if he should bolt and hide or embarrass himself further and say something stupid.
something- someone, brushes against his ribcage as you shuffle, your hand coming to rest on his stomach.
there’s not a word exchanged between you but eddie takes the hint, sliding your hand further over his midriff. it’s a pathetic attempt at cuddling but it makes him flutter all the same.
-
eddie wakes up sprawled face first across the bed, blinking at the bright light, not a trace of you in the room.
he fucked up. he fucked up so bad that you’ve decided to find your own way home and left him here.
shit.
he clambers out of bed, pulling his hastily discarded sweatpants back on, remembering every last detail of your night last night.
the guilt comes in waves, and then embarrassment and shame jump in to make it worse.
years of friendship down the drain and for what?
he just about builds enough courage to leave the room and venture downstairs, creeping out onto the hall when you come bounding up the stairs, meeting him in the cramped corridor.
“hi,” smiling coyly, playing the oblivious game.
“hey,” he nods, reciprocating the smile.
nothing was ruined. you’re fine.
“i was just coming to wake you..breakfast’s ready,” you fiddle with your thumbs, a completely different version of yourself than the one he saw last night.
“oh good,” eddie blinks, “i’m starving,” wanting to smash his palm into his face the second the words come out.
“great!” you exclaim, the painful cringe coming through on your face too.
the two of you walk down the stairs in silence, sitting at the table with a small knowing glance.
this house is huge. he’s sure no one else would’ve heard.
he’s midway through his coffee when your dad leans across the table, probing the two of you, “so, will you be trying for kids anytime soon?”
eddie damn near chokes on the searing hot liquid, coughing his gulp back up into the mug, combatting the burning sensation travelling down his throat and also up into his cheeks.
why would he ask that? over breakfast no less.
“uh no.. nope,” you answer for him, thankfully.
“that’s a shame,” your father stands from the table, sliding his plate into the soapy water before making his way over to eddie, clapping him on the back, “you’re gonna have to make an honest woman outta her first son,” before shuffling off into the living room.
he wants to die. in fact, he’d much rather the ground open up and swallow the two of you alive than to be sat at this breakfast table.
judging by the look on your face, you share the sentiment.
-
he’s going to tell you. he’s going to tell you. he’s going to tell you. he’s going to tell you.
he’s just not sure when or how. it’d be unfair for him to unload his feelings unto you at the beginning of the journey, not to mention also extremely inconvenient if you didn’t feel the same.
but then he’s also acutely aware that if he doesn’t force those words out soon, that they may never come out.
he’s just finished loading your bags into the back of his van, admittedly a little sad to be leaving.
it’s like, he could no longer pretend that what was going on was real. that last night might’ve just been a mistake and you want to cut ties here.
your phone blares from your hand, holding up a finger as you walk away to take the call.
eddie rehearses what he’s going to say to you. well, tries to.
i think you’re super cool, how about i become your boyfriend for real?
he cringes at the thought of it, it wasn’t really the declaration of love that you deserved.
the door opening startles him, your demeanour had done a complete one eighty, your shoulders slumped as you slide into the seat in silence.
“you all good?” eddie asks, wondering what had changed in such a short time.
“uh.. yeah.”
“y’sure?” he probes, not entirely convinced by your change in attitude.
“that was josh,” you swallow, looking straight ahead out of the windscreen, “he wants to see me when i’m back.. to talk.”
“oh,” he replies flatly, “wow okay.”
the life he had dreamed slowly crumbled before him, it was foolish to think that you’d just want to settle down with him now. he’d gotten ahead of himself and now had to reap the consequences.
“yeah..”
eddie doesn’t utter another word, instead, turning the key and starting the long, painful drive home.
maybe he’ll throw himself out of the van on the interstate. punishment for letting himself even slightly believe that you’d be interested in him too.
-
josh is waiting outside of your building when eddie pulls up, smug grin in tow.
tempted to just keep driving, smash into the side of his expensive shiny car and then reverse over his spindly little body.
that doesn’t happen of course.
instead, eddie keeps his head ducked low, muttering a low see you later before you clamber out. there’s so much left unsaid, even a complete idiot could see that.
he doesn’t watch as you walk over to your ex, certainly doesn’t want to see how his hands meet the small of your back and the way you seem to relax into his touch.
not a chance.
it’s eating him alive. even with the windows rolled down entirely, he’s sweating. as if it’s gnawing at his skin, trying to find a way out.
fuckfuckfuck.
tyres screech along the tarmac, his hands shaking as he turns the wheel. something otherworldly and dangerous overtakes his senses as he tears off back down the same road he’d just traveled.
and maybe he’d regret it and maybe it’d ruin your friendship forever but this week couldn’t have been for nothing.
you had to at least know.
eddie’s palms are wet, holding onto the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. he doesn’t recall the journey to your apartment being so fucking long but he feels like he’s in this stuffy van for an eternity.
the moment he pulls onto that familiar street, bile rises in his throat.
maybe josh would have sweet talked his way back into your life and he’d get his ass beat. or maybe you’d laugh him out of there, telling him to never contact you again.
he supposes that there’s not much left to lose now.
eddie hops out of his van without so much as a look back, bounding up the short path as the door swings open, nearly knocking him for six.
“eddie,” you remark, phone gripped in your hand. your jaw hangs open, what looks like tears stain your cheeks. “i was trying to call you.”
frankly, he’s still out of breath from the exhilaration of it all, struggling to find his words as he stares gormless at you, “my phone’s dead.. i didn’t- didn’t know.. what’s wrong?” mind immediately jumping to josh.
what had he done?
“nonono.. nothing’s wrong, i just..” you trail off, your gaze not once breaking, “why are you here?”
eddie’s mind goes blank, why was he here?
to tell you that he thinks he’s in love with you? he can’t say that.
“you.. left something- in the van.”
idiot.
total fucking fool.
“oh!” swallowing the shock of his arrival, “what? what is it?”
why are you both dancing around this? he’s sure you feel it too. maybe. that could be the adrenaline speaking.
“nothing.. you didn’t leave anything- i don’t know why i said that.” shaking his head, if he weren’t so nervous, he’d have been crippled with embarrassment. “look, i have to tell you something,” biding his time, hoping your crazed ex won’t pop out of a bush and pummel his head into the ground.
“eddie..” you start, that solemn tone he was dreading to hear.
“no, let me say it,” he tries again, clearing his throat, “i need to s-“
“-eddie,” cutting him off mid-sentence, bounding up to him with your arms extended, throwing them around his neck as you press your lips to his.
it’s almost enough force to knock him on his ass, his hands coming to meet your waist in an attempt to stabilise both of you.
you pull away, lips still pouted slightly, “sorry.. what were you gonna say?”
eddie can’t recall a word of the speech he’d halfheartedly rehearsed. “well shit.. doesn’t matter now,” once again pressing his lips to yours, swaying in the evening breeze as everything seems to fall into place.
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𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀…
Sukuna
Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader
Summary: Sukuna comes to terms with the idea of having a daughter with you.
Warnings: MDNI, smut, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, double penetration, creampie, pregnancy, slightly ooc but still a misogynist, fluff at the end
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“What the hell are you doing?” Sukuna squints his eyes, looking down at you as you knit something for your baby girl. There’s no way of actually knowing the sex of your baby, but something tells you that you’re expecting a daughter. Sukuna negates the thought, assuring you that you’re carrying a son. He can’t possibly have a daughter, he’s always saying something along those lines.
“Just making a little something for our child.” You inform him, and Sukuna frowns. Your child is not going to wear something so pink because they’ll be a boy, Sukuna is sure of it. He snatches the cloth out of your hand and tosses it.
“Why pink? Are you saying we’re having a girl?” Sukuna questions, and you cross your arms. You look up at your husband, mad that he's tossed your hard work to the side.
“You have pink hair, Suku… Are you a girl?” You cock your eyebrow, and he’s not amused. He crosses both pairs of arms, rolling his eyes. Maybe he shouldn’t associate colors with a certain gender because you are right, he does have pink hair… But he also knows that you’re making a pink blanket because you think you’re having a girl.
“Make a blue one.” He orders, and you glare at him. You shake your head in response, you’re not making a blue one. He grits his teeth, grabbing the blanket that he just tossed to the side and shredding your hard work to pieces.
“Keep an eye open tonight, because when you least expect it, I’ll strangle you.” You warn him, and you’re dead serious. It’s clear that you’re carrying his child, you’ve never threatened to kill him before.
“If you even come close to it, I think I’ll fall more in love with you.” He chuckles, walking away, leaving you alone with your own anger. You let out a yell, cursing at him because the twinge of fear that you had for him completely faded a couple of months ago.
He holds no threat to you anymore. Sukuna wouldn’t have done anything to you anyway, since he hates that he loves you so dearly, but the realization that you carry his child and he’ll do no harm to you really gives you much more power and comfort. Sukuna finds humor in a very nonthreatening person, threatening to do something to him; especially when he knows that you can barely lift yourself up anymore.
He knows that you won’t even come close to succeeding in hurting him, and he laughs in amusement at the mere thought. But you’ll get him back, you know you will.
“I thought we were going to spend the day together?” Sukuna asks as he watches you get ready to go out. You never invited him anywhere, so he was shocked to hear that you weren’t at home. He isn’t well liked in public, there’s just something about being huge, having four arms and being extremely scary that people don’t like. Sukuna can kill anyone without a second thought.
“I thought so too before someone ruined the blanket that I was making for my daughter… So I had to get the materials to make it again.” You tell him, and Sukuna nearly gasps when you drop the d word. You’ve always refused to call the baby your daughter since you have no idea what the sex is, but it seems like you use it to piss him off. You click your tongue when you notice his reaction, “What? You’re so overdramatic. You’ve killed for fuck’s sake, why is saying daughter so scary to you.”
“Because we’re having a son!” He yells, getting defensive about it. You don’t understand why he gets upset at the mere suggestion that he’s having a daughter. Before you got pregnant, Sukuna never seemed to care about the gender of a hypothetical baby– Although you shouldn’t be shocked since your husband isn’t exactly the most fair when it comes to different sexes… Sukuna is a misogynist, that’s what you’re trying to get at. He treats all humans with the same disdain, but particularly women. It seems that you’ve forgotten because he doesn’t treat you the same way he treats everyone else.
“Sukuna, we’re having a daughter.” You reiterate, and you watch his eye twitch. You’re doing it to piss him off, he knows it, yet it’s working. “You wanted a baby, Sukuna. You knew there was no guarantee that you’d be having a son, but you still decided that you wanted one. You can’t cry about having a daughter.”
Sukuna takes a deep breath, surprisingly managing his anger well. He decides to leave the room, leaving you alone to do whatever the hell you want. You fuel his anger even more, yelling at him, “And don’t come back until you fix your attitude!”
You stare off into the distance, your hand resting on your bump. You begin to wonder what Sukuna will actually do, and you can’t do anything but hope that he’ll come around to the idea because you know Sukuna. He isn’t good whatsoever, he won’t hesitate to hurt her, even if she’s his own flesh and blood. You’re not sure you could stay by his side if he were to do anything, but you wouldn’t really have any other option either.
You decide to go to sleep, because thinking about it further won’t really help you in any way. You delude yourself, thinking that he’ll come around to the idea.
A large pair of arms wrap around you, waking you up from your slumber. Sukuna does it to try and be romantic, but he nearly suffocates you. You slap his arm, telling him, “Loosen the grip–”
He loosens his grip, which lets you know that he wasn’t trying to kill you. Thankfully. Sukuna would never do anything to harm you, but sometimes you swear you don’t know him much. It’s very rare when you get a heart to heart with Sukuna where he actually talks about him, he usually prefers to listen to listen, and to threaten anyone in the stories that offend you in the slightest.
“Can I say something without you getting mad?” You begin, still half asleep. Sukuna furrows his brows. Due to his lack of answer, you decide to speak, “You’re overreacting.”
“I just don’t know what I’d do with a daughter.” He confesses. He doesn’t know how he’d handle her, how to treat her fairly, how he would– He doesn’t know how he would do anything. He doesn’t know what being a woman entails so he won’t know how to teach her anything. He wants to teach her how to do everything.
“Everything you’d do with a son.” You reply. You really doubt that your child will be raised to have great morals, so there’s no point in really raising them differently. “Sukuna, how will it be different?”
“How will it not be different?” He sounds offended. There’s nothing similar between men and women. Sukuna’s hands go to your bump, his hand caressing it. “But for my heir, I guess I can make an exception.”
“Is that your way of telling me that you won’t make a fuss over the possibility of having a daughter?” You ask him, and his silence gives you an answer. Yes, Sukuna is fine with it, as fine as he can be at least.
His hand goes under your nightgown, caressing your thighs. You feel Sukuna kiss the back of your neck, and you squeeze your thighs, his large hand stuck between them. The man rarely touches you nowadays, seeing you as fragile as ever. You don’t know about the sudden change, but you certainly don’t mind.
“What changed in you?” You ask him as his hand goes up to your panties. He pushes them to the side because last time he tore something of yours, you got too mad at him so he’d rather not risk it. His fingers run through your folds before going to your clit, and you bite your bottom lip due to pure excitement.
“Was thinking about how I’d be nothing without you.” He confesses, letting you know that he didn’t come to terms with having a daughter– Sukuna is a man that fears nothing, at least that’s what you thought up until now. He fears losing you. It’s your issue… You’ve never paid attention to the love in his eyes when he speaks to you or about you. Sometimes you don’t realize just how much you mean to him. “Then I remembered how gorgeous you look carrying our son.”
“If you say that again I’ll–” You begin but Sukuna is two steps ahead of you. He pushes two large fingers inside of you. You can’t help but moan, covering your mouth immediately. One of his hands pulls your hand away, even in the dark he knows what you do. After all, you’re not just getting to know him, but he’s getting to know you too.
“Did I tell you to be fucking quiet?” He asks through gritted teeth. You have to be quiet at other times, like when the baby gets here and you risk waking them up. Now, if any of the servants hear, that’s their fucking problem. “Be loud, my love. Remind everyone who you belong to.”
“They know.” You tell him, which is quickly cut off by a moan as his fingers move faster. You feel his thumb graze your asshole, teasing you before he pushes it in. “Suku–”
“You’re not going to be able to stay quiet.” He ends up laughing. You never do because he’s just too much for you to handle. He curves his fingers so they hit your sweet spot. You shut your eyes, quickly succumbing to pleasure. You’ve missed this feeling so much, and he refuses to give it to you.
Sukuna loves when you turn into putty by his touch. It takes practically nothing to work you up, and you begin to squeeze around him. He smirks, knowing that it takes nothing for you to be practically screaming his name. Sukuna speaks into your ear, “Already so excited for me? Do you want more?”
“I need more.” Your voice sounds so demanding and Sukuna laughs. Another hand goes under your nightgown, his fingers focusing on your clit. You loudly moan his name as it all gets too much for you to handle.
“Is it too much?” He mocks you as your orgasm builds up, until you finally reach your peak, your legs shaking. Sukuna takes his fingers out, shoving the fingers that were in your cunt into your mouth, making you gag.
Sukuna lights a candle, providing some light in the room. You sit up, getting on top of him, undoing his robe. Your body yearns for more, and he smirks since he knows it. You lean down, your lips going on his, your tongue entering his mouth and pressing against his own. When you pull away from the kiss, you mutter, “I’ve missed you.”
You raise yourself, aligning the cock on the top with your pussy before slowly pushing yourself down on it. You take a moment to adjust to him since it’s been a while since the last time you’ve fucked her. You begin to bounce on him, and Sukuna spits in his palm, grabbing the cock on the bottom and teasing your asshole with the tip.
Sukuna holds you down when he begins to push the other tip in your asshole. Even though you’re expecting a child together, you’re still loud when he fills both of your holes. It’s too much for you to handle at first, but throughout the time you get used to it.
“Tight little cunt–” He groans, and he never thought that he of all people would end up touch deprived. But then he got too scared to hurt you in any way when you knew you were expecting, so he stuck to… Nothing. To suppress his dirty thoughts.
“Move.” You order, too tired to continue. Sukuna begins to move for you, thrusting slowly in and out of you. He continues at the pace you had set.
“Is it good? You’re making a fucking mess.” He says as he picks up speed. You throw your head back, one hand going down to play with your clit as he thrusts in and out of you.
“It’s so fucking good–” You answer. You’ve been needing this every single fucking night, and you’re lucky to be receiving it now. He’s finally giving into your cravings.
“You just love being filled up like a little slut, don’t you?” Sukuna’s hand goes up from your bump to your mouth, shoving two fingers into your mouth again. He feels the vibration of your moans through your tongue before you begin to twirl your tongue around his fingers.
Sukuna loves the way you take in his cocks, smiling at you at how well you take him– Of course he wouldn’t tell you though. Your hands go to his chest, using it for support as well as subconsciously digging your nails into his skin. It stings for him, but he can’t help but love it.
Sukuna does you a favor, his fingers rubbing your clit. Your eyes roll to the back of your head,
A second orgasm overtaking you. Sukuna feels you squeezing on both of his cocks, feeling himself get weak.
“Suku–” You loudly moan as you reach your second orgasm. Sukuna mocks you for it.
“What? Can’t handle it?” He asks, your nails digging deeper into his skin. He’s losing control, his thrusts getting sloppy. It’s been so long since the last time he did this– And when he finishes, he fills both of your holes with so much cum, and you swear you’re in heaven because there is no better feeling than this.
When he takes his cocks out, so much cum drips out of you. You end up falling on his chest, him wrapping a pair of large arms around you while another fixes your clothes.
“This is a nice way to apologize for misbehaving.” You comment, and Sukuna scoffs.
“Who said I was apologizing?” Sukuna is frowning, and you lightly smack his face which pisses him off more. He holds your hands so you don’t try to do anything more with them.
“I’ll take it as an apology.” You tell him. Sukuna wants to laugh, but he manages to keep a poker face. He grabs you up by your hair, putting his lips on yours.
“It was not an apology, woman. Shut your mouth.”
Bonus:
You swear that hell is freezing over because what the hell is the scene you’re witnessing. You’ve never seen Sukuna like this… You don’t think you are supposed to see him like this.
“Who’s a headstrong girl?” Sukuna is putting on a baby voice for fuck’s sake. For a daughter that he didn’t want. Your baby girl laughs, and he falls in love all over again. She’s just so fucking perfect– With her little eyes, her little nose, her little mouth, her four little arms, her soft pink hair. She’s everything to him.
“Do you need anything, Sukuna?” You approach them, but Sukuna pays little attention to you. He keeps looking down at his daughter who lays on your bed. She’s in need of a nap but Sukuna doesn’t like putting her to bed because she’s boring then.
“Yeah, how do I order another one of these?” He asks, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.
“Of what?” You respond, wondering what the hell he talks about.
“Another daughter.”
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Jealousy isn't really your style, is it?
Masterlist
Characters : Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Megumi, and Choso.
Gojo Satoru
He becomes increasingly silent—too silent until you can't detect his emotion. His appetite vanished as waves of jealousy showered on his mind. You don't even notice that at first, thinking he might be tired from work.
However, as the sun goes down to the horizon and is replaced by the moonlight, his smile fades whenever your eyes meet his. He refrains from calling you endearing nicknames, skips the usual sensual morning kiss, and avoids his favorite cookies. When you suggest playing video games, Gojo simply groans and leaves you alone.
What's happening to him? Did you hurt your sweetheart? No. Until the sky falls, you don't have a heart to hurt your sweetheart.
You can't let the stillness linger; you can't leave everything unresolved. It's so hurtful, to be honest. Why would Gojo be so selfish like this? You need to find out what's going on with your little sweetheart.
That night, Gojo stood in his favorite spot within the apartment, drowning in the beautiful goldfish in the aquarium. Golden and yellow, reflected in his eyes like sunflower petals.
He gently tapped his finger on the aquarium's glass, making the whole atmosphere feel so cold. Gojo seemed unusually relaxed, in contrast to the person he once was.
"I know I might come off as a boring and annoying man. People often say that, and I usually don't care about it at all because I understand it's not important. But when it comes from you—please... I don't want to hear that."
You do not quite understand what he means, but Gojo appears deeply hurt. His azure eyes, his words, his breath, the cologne he uses this time, the way he gazes at you—something feels off and unplaced.
This is the first time you've seen him so blue and so pained that the warmth in his lovely presence is almost undetectable. Everything is gone.
"Hey, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but it hurts me when you smile at other guys. I want you to be mine, and only mine, and no one else. Please don't do that again, because you're irreplaceable. If I lose you, I can't find another like you."
Geto Suguru
At first, he doesn't show his jealousy because Geto is the sweetest.
However, there comes a moment when he becomes more affectionate—increased physical touch, frequent kisses, hugs, showering you with praise, texting you almost every hour.
And when he does these things, he always leaves a sarcastic comment like, "I'm a better man, aren't I?" or "Can you see how much I care about you more than anyone else?"
and "I hope you're not blind enough to understand my affection."
also "I know you're not stupid enough to leave me alone. Because I hate being a loner."
It's somewhat annoying because Geto rarely behaves like this. It's simply... so strange, leaving you confused about whether it's a prank by the twins, if something horrible has hit him, or maybe he is too much into reading a weird romantic novel.
That morning, when you are sleeping on his lap, feeling his love, warmth, and kindness, he delicately traces his fingertips across your cheeks, down to your jawline, then meanders to your nose, pinching it gently, leaving a small chuckle before circling back to playfully tease the contour of your lips.
He leaned closer, sealing a gentle kiss on the nose tip and moving before grazing your lips with a small nibble. "Did Satoru ever kiss you like this? I doubt he has done this to you."
Your eyes fluttered open, confusion etching your expression. "What do you mean, Suguru-kun?"
He sighed. "Don't think I haven't noticed, cutie. I may not match Satoru's strength, but I'm not stupid. What were you up to with him last week? You seemed quite charmed with him, didn't you?"
He added. "Should I end both of you, so he can't have you and you can't have him? But I lack the heart to harm you, sweet love. Stop talking with that man. Because I hate sharing my love with someone else."
Nanami Kento
A tough man, he doesn't even realize if jealousy is starting to invade him; perhaps you might label it as denial.
He puts on a facade that everything is fine, brushing off any concerns by assuming them to be mere imagination or work-induced stress.
No, you didn't cheat or talk with another man. You're always a nice woman to Nanami Kento, and of course, never in your wildest dreams will you hurt your man.
However, a weird sensation starts to trouble him the next day when his coworkers engage in silly gossip about him and you.
Whispers float behind him, dripping with a sarcastic tone like, "How could a good woman like her date someone like Nanami-san? He's so boring."
and someone chimes in. "Yeah, I heard she dumped Gojo-san and went with him; why does she think like that?"
From that moment onward, everything feels upside down.
Each day, each time, every time he sees your face, catches your gaze, and hears your voice echoing in his ears, all of these hurt him.
He feels like he doesn't deserve you and thinks that perhaps you can find another guy, someone special, someplace that would make you safe and happy, someone who could make you feel at home whenever you run to them.
And that man is not me.
"I realize I might not be as caring as other men, or perhaps I come off as too boring for someone like you. Honestly, I don't wish for your kindness to be shared with anyone else—even a fleeting smile from you stirs a deep ache within me. Maybe it's an obsession, but if you allow me to share my jealousy, I don't want you to meet that guy, Gojo Satoru. For heaven's sake, I fear losing all control and ending up hurting you. I love you."
Fushiguro Megumi
Honestly, his anger management is the worst. There are scenes when he appears calm, collected, and cute, but, again, it's merely a facade he is creating, especially in your presence.
When the flames of jealousy shower on Megumi, flirting with his life, everything transforms into a hellish field.
He loses his temper and becomes easily offended whenever Yuuji attempts to engage in conversation with him, roasting everyone in sight. The situation continues until Maki beats him and tells him how annoying he is.
He has a terrible urge to throw punches at everyone, driven by the need to tell them that you belong to him. He needs to make it clear that you're already committed to someone else and that your heart is sealed with Fushiguro Megumi. Only with that man and no one else.
His intention is not just to show his obsession but also to dissuade others from bothering both of you. He longs to compel them to kneel, satisfying his fleeting sense of pride.
It's pretty hilarious because whenever Gojo catches wind of it, he bursts into laughter and playfully teases Megumi all day. Well, it's natural for anyone to have jealousy within them, but... doesn't Megumi take it a bit too far?
You've observed this pattern and tried to convince your dear boyfriend that everything around him is just his imagination. He shouldn't be worrying, and he just hurts himself by treating people like that.
Yet, Megumi is Megumi.
"I don't think I'm overreacting to this. When I'm upset, I express it openly. It's frustrating when people assume I'm obsessed with you—I'm not. I just don't want you to get involved with someone who isn't worth it for you. I fear you'll end up hurt. You can choose me; I can prove not only to you but to everyone that I am the one who truly deserves you."
Choso
Choso isn't typically the jealous type, but when he notices a certain closeness between you and his brothers, everything changes.
He genuinely cares for his brothers, going to great lengths to ensure their happiness and love. He values the bond you share with his brothers and cherishes the love and affection you have for each other.
However...
It's hard for him to put it into words. Everything is stuck in his throat and sealed inside his head.
Every time he sees you with his brothers blossoming an indescribable feeling within him, it's a burning sensation that's hard to bear. The flame is starting to burn him alive.
The way you share meals with them or laugh at their jokes—all of these irritate him to the point that they make his heart beat so fast. Choso is aware that these emotions are too complicated; he can't hate his brothers, but the heart has a way of contradicting logic.
How could God put love in his heart?
He fondly recalls the first snow you experienced together, the gentle embrace of summer against his skin, and the golden glow of spring's sun.
But he still wonders when he falls in love with you. Maybe since the first time he met you? Or else?
"I find immense joy in sharing my time and days with you. My brothers seem to love you as well. Everything about you is beautiful, and I cherish the moments we share. I fear losing you and our precious time; that's why I act this way when you're with them. I want to be the one you choose."
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Delicate Feelings
a/n: divider credits: @cafekitsune
Summary: The reader is to wed Feyd-Rautha; intentionally, she is frightened, but once she begins to share his life on Geidi Prime and come into her own, Feyd begins to fall in love with her. When another man makes a move on her one day. Feyd makes sure he reminds her who Y/n belongs to. Everyone should know better; Feyd-Rautha doesn't share.
Request: Yes
Warnings: smut, praise kink, public affection, teasing, slight possessive nature, feyd doesn't like sharing, oral (f receiving, hint m receiving), Feyd expressing feelings, the reader sees a softer side of her na-baron. Slight spoilers, but nothing too much.
Reader has she/her pronouns
Word Count: 3,208
Disclaimer: I do not own Dune or its characters, nor do I claim them as my own
Comments likes, and reblogs are always adored and appreciated xx
Y/n felt frightened; all her life, she had been raised to prepare herself to honour and stand by her husband. Her mother and father had told her she would marry the most feared man in the Imperium. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. Y/n had heard about him, his psychotic nature, his brutal killing methods and his concubines. Y/n hated the word concubines; it put a bad taste in her mouth. She heard he fed them human organs; they were cannibals. Y/n felt the ship landing as she felt the vibration flow through her body; closing her eyes, she whispered affirmations to herself. “Everything will be okay. You will be okay. You have been prepared for this your whole life. Everything will be okay.” Standing up as she smoothed her dress while walking down the ship’s ramp, she began to cough lightly; the air was different in Geidi Prime than in her homeworld. A maid came behind her “Lady Y/n; you will get used to it eventually.” She spoke gently. Y/n nodded, letting out a shaky breath and walking inside the overbearing fortress of House Harkonnen. Feeling overwhelmed by the vast stone-cold halls decorated in black and dark jade, the sounds of Y/n’s heels echo through. Coming face to face with large double doors, Y/n took one deep breath as they opened; exhaling slowly, Y/n walked through her maids behind her. She could see the Baron, the obese man, sitting in his hovering chair attached to tubes to aid his health. Swallowing nervously, Y/n’s emerald eyes drifted over to a young man whose back was to her. The Baron let out a heavy sigh as he smoked his pipe. “My dear nephew, your bride has arrived,” he chuckled deeply as the young man looked over his shoulder before turning his body and ultimately facing Y/n. Her lips parted, her eyes locked with his, a slight smile playing on his lips while he walked towards her. Raising his hand to tap her cheek with his pointer finger, “Hmm”, he hummed, his blue eyes dancing over her figure; his tongue swiped his bottom lip. “Welcome to Geidi Prime, my Na-Baroness” His chilling voice sent shivers through her body. She gasped through her dry lips as her eyes stared into his; he smirked, leaning in. “Don’t worry, wife, you have nothing to fear”, he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. His words may have been comforting, but his tone made her feel different; this is where her training would come to light.
That was two weeks ago; Feyd had kept his distance from Y/n. They consummated marriage on their wedding night, but after that, he was busy training for his birthday celebration in the gladiator arena. The Baron hosts a grand celebration every birthday in honour of his favourite nephew. This would be Y/n’s first time observing her husband as the brutal fighter she had heard so much about; Lady Margot Fenring was also in attendance, and she sat beside Y/n. The woman was a stranger, but she still comforted the young girl. “I know you; you are Lady Margot; Count Fenring is your lord husband.” Margot raised a brow and smiled with a slight bow on her head. “Yes, I was sent to watch and observe you and your husband. After all, the Bene Gesserit wants to watch you closely; you’re special.” She looked through her small binoculars, her eyes darting around the arena. “Have you ever watched his fight before?”
Y/n asked Margot, who shook her head in response. “No, but that’s what makes this exciting”, she whispered as the horns signalled the beginning of the fight. Y/n looked down anxiously as she felt nerves build, not for the other fighters but for her husband. A deep voice rumbled through the triangular arena; Margot translated for Y/n, “Today, the Baron celebrates his nephew, the Feyd-Rautha, on his birthday. May the games begin” Y/n looked down, seeing Feyd emerge from the crowd; the loud sound of cheers and clapping disoriented Y/n slightly. Feyd raised his knife, bowing towards the corner where the Baron sat high above; as Feyd straightened, he looked around, taking in the admiration. His figure stopped seeing Y/n in her viewing platform. He grinned as he fell to his knee, his arms spread, his knives glistening from the black sun.
“I DEDICATE MY VICTORY….” He raised his knife towards Y/n. “TO MY WIFE, THE FUTURE BARONESS!” He roared to the crowd, erupted in pride at their leader’s words. Y/n once felt a smile when she heard Feyd’s words, sitting back as he readied himself for his fight. Margot looked over. “I can sense some affection. Am I wrong?” The Bene Gesserit asked Y/n softly, who laughed lightly. “It’s the first time I’ve smiled in a long time; before we were married, I couldn’t smile; I was too scared. And I was too afraid to smile here; I did not want to disrupt or upset my husband,” she spoke gently. Margot nodded lightly in response, watching Feyd. “I think your lord husband has grown a soft spot for you, Lady Harkonnen.”
The woman smirked as Y/n watched Feyd fight his opponents effortlessly. The crowd cheered, chanting Feyd’s name; as Feyd left the arena, Y/n stood up and walked out of the platform and back to her shared chambers with Feyd. Standing on the balcony, she looked up at the fireworks with a smile. Her eyes closed, and she listened to the sounds of the cracks and sparks in the atmosphere. “Were you impressed, wife?” She heard her husband’s voice behind her and turned to face him. “I was husband. I had heard tales of your fighting and was honoured to witness such power in the arena today.” She bowed her head lightly. Feyd smirked, looking her up and down; he walked up to her and spun her around. His arms were around her waist. “My uncle always throws elaborate birthday celebrations for me. I used to love them, now not so much,” He murmured gently as Y/n frowned. “I hope my presence sweetens your birthday this year.” She looked up at him, and he blinked his lashes softly, gazing down at his wife. A smile was on his face, and he hummed his fingers delicately, draping across her neck and down her chest. “It does, my wife.”
Time passed as both Feyd and Y/n spent every day together; Feyd let her watch him train and fight, and she sat in the council meetings he would attend. He was named Na-Baron, which made her Na-Baroness; his uncle made him the heir of house Harkonnen and sent them to Arrakis to control spice production. Y/n had grown to love and accustomed to Geidi Prime, but she had heard stories of Arrakis’s beauty and was anxious to see it. Feyd had observed his wife over time, watching her share his life and become his wife and Baroness. He had never thought he would feel such things about anyone, let alone a woman, but he was. He was beginning to fall in love with his wife—the feared, ruthless Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha in love. Love is a dangerous emotion; he was always told it was poison; it affects the mind, disorients thoughts, and gets in the way of duties. Before he married Y/n, Feyd had rid himself of his concubines by killing them; he wanted no other ties; he would commit to his wife. He believed it was for duty and power, but now he realised it wasn’t for that; it was his love for his wife. He wanted no other woman. He just wanted her.
Arriving in Arrakis, the sun’s heat, the sting of the sand blowing with the harsh wind and the barren planet made Y/n rethink coming to Arrakis. Feyd looked over at his wife with a smile. He held her hand in his hand, and they both walked into Arakeen. The Na-Baron and Na-Baroness walked through the city observing the spice production as Feyd shouted orders and led his soldiers to attack the Fremen—something his brother could not do. Y/n wandered through the hall, looking at the different engravings on the walls, sandworms and Fremen riding them. She stood frozen, admiring the art, her hands behind her back. “My Lady”, a voice spoke up, breaking her gaze from the wall. “Oh, I’m sorry, this artwork entranced me, it’s beautiful”, she pointed to the wall the man stood beside her. “Ah, the sandworms, yes, the Fremen treat them with such respect can’t understand why”, his deep-toned voice full of disdain. Y/n decided to shake off his words. “Who are you? You don’t look like you’re from Arrakis?” She questioned curiously; the man chuckled, “No, I’m from Corrino. The Emperor sent me as a herald of the change. To watch over the spice production here” he bowed his head, and Y/n nodded lightly as she felt him step closer to her his hand on her arm.
Y/n’s eyes gazed down, narrowing lightly. “Excuse me, I must leave” She pushed him back as he pursued her Y/n began walking away, her heart racing as she couldn’t remember where she had to go. Continuing to walk straight, she heard the man behind her pick up his pace. Grabbing her dress skirt, she sprinted down the hall; the man grabbed her from behind and pushed her against the wall. “Please”, she pleaded; the man smiled. “Don’t worry, my lady”, he whispered before leaning in. “If you value your life, take your hands off MY WIFE, YOUR NA-BARONESS”, Feyd’s cold tone spoke; the man’s eyes widened in fear; he glanced over, seeing Feyd’s sinister smile, his head titled. The man released Y/n, her breathing shaky. Feyd’s eyes watched intensely as he grabbed his knife; the man stuttered his apology, but Feyd laughed then snarled lowly. Steeping towards him one by one, the man shook before Feyd.
“I am the only man who can touch her. No other is worthy of her attention, her presence, but me. I don’t share, and I don’t appreciate someone touching my wife” he swiped his knife along the man’s throat. Blood spilled as he choked, falling to the ground lifelessly. Feyd spun around and held his wife’s face in his hands. “My love, are you okay?” He breathed softly, his blue eyes searching hers. She nodded wordlessly, burying her face in his chest. “Thank you for saving me” she murmured. Feyd felt his heart skip a beat, a smile on his face.
Dinner in the grand hall was quiet; Y/n and Feyd were surrounded by the others who came with them from Geidi Prime. Feyd held his wife’s hand, pulling her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles gently. Y/n smiled at the affection from her husband. His smile made her heart flutter; leaning close, Feyd whispered, “Your dress is making every man in this room jealous. They all wish they were me. And they all wish they had you warming their bed every night”, he growled; his lips caressing her neck his teeth biting down on her skin lightly. Y/n felt her eyes close, her breath hitched, looking at all the men watching. “Feyd”, she whispered; her husband chuckled, his fingers trailing down her chest, down her body between her legs. “Let them watch; they need to remember who you are. Their Na-Baroness, my wife. My Baroness,” he breathed, his voice mesmerising Y/n gazed at her husband from the corner of her eyes.
“Husband, I suddenly feel hot; perhaps I should retire to our chambers” She gave him a sultry glance; his eyes squinted, he licked his lips, his forehead pressed to hers, his eyes closed. “Whatever you wish, my wife. I will give you five minutes, then I’ll hunt you” He grinned, kissing her lips quickly. Y/n stood up, left the grand hall, and ran to their shared chambers. Feyd took one last drink of his wine and slammed the cup on the table. Five minutes had gone, and he grinned, clicking his tongue. “Ready or not, here I come, wife.”
Y/n hid behind a secret door in hers and Feyd’s chambers, hearing her husband’s footsteps approach the door. Opening loudly, Feyd closed them, locking them, and slowly turned around to scan the chambers. Licking his lips in anticipation, he smirked, his eyes darting around, looking for any signs of his wife. He saw she had left her heels and dress on the bed. Twirling around, he looked in the wardrobe. Nothing. He made his way out to the balcony, but nothing again. He narrowed his eyes, wondering where she was. Walking into the bathroom quietly, he saw she wasn’t there. Y/n thought she was safe to come out, so she slid out but froze when she heard Feyd’s voice. “Found you”, Y/n looked over her shoulder. “So you did”, she whispered. Feyd grinned, pressing her against the wall. Feyd leant in, kissing her jaw, trailing open-mouthed kisses along her neck. His lips found her pulse sucking gently. A gentle gasp left her open lips, her fingers gripping his clothes tightly. “Please, husband”, she murmured, her body arching off the wall, the heat of her body touching his, making him moan lowly.
Grasping her body in his hands, he picked her up and threw her on the bed. Their lust-filled gazes focused on one another as Feyd fell to his knees; his hands slid up her legs and spread them apart. Y/n let out a sharp gasp, feeling his lips on her thigh, a sly grin on his face, hearing his wife’s cries of pleasure. Feyd made his way down, ripping her underwear, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Delving between kissing her clit softly, Y/n shivered; his tongue slowly lapped at her wet folds. His hands gripped her waist, her legs draped over his shoulders. Feyd flattened his tongue, licking a broad stroke from her entrance to her clit. Y/n whimpered, her hands fisting the silk sheets, her eyes tightly shut, her mouth agape, strings of gasps, Feyd’s name and moans filled the room. Looking down, she could see Feyd looking up at her, his eyes blown with desire. He pulled her closer, growling into her, his tongue strokes becoming more rapid. Y/n felt her arousal heighten as Feyd felt her hips begin to jolt. “Feyd, please, I’m-” she cried, her back arching. A loud moan left her mouth as Feyd groaned. His mouth savoured every drop. Pulling away, Feyd grinned, kissing her stomach; he slid up her body, kissing each part of her skin. Panting heavily, he kissed her roughly, his tongue sliding into her mouth, his hand cupping her cheek. Y/n pushed him back, her hand trailing down to his pants. “Let me-” she began, and Feyd shook his head.
“No, as much as I would your mouth on my cock, maybe another time”, he grunted, rocking his hips into her hand as he sat up, removing his pants. Throwing them away, he climbed back on top of Y/n, kissing her fiercely. She pushed Feyd onto his back, straddling his waist. Feyd grinned, his black teeth glittering as Y/n lowered herself down on his cock; gasping at the feel of him inside her, she threw her head back. Feyd groaned, gripping her waist and thrusting up Y/n looked down at her Baron. Her hands laid on his chest for balance, riding him. Y/n is rarely on top, and when she is, Feyd loves it. He prefers to be in control but wouldn’t deny his wife what she wants. “Be as loud as you, my baroness; let all the men hear how well I fuck you. Let them hear your cries of pleasure, see your bruises from my touch. Give them a show” Feyd sat up, whispering hotly into her ear Y/n shuddered at his words, spreading her legs a little more to take in more of him.
Looping her arms around his neck and kissing him, Feyd’s hips bucked wildly, both moaning into the kiss. Y/n cried out when Feyd growled, his cock, hitting her sweet spot harshly; his grin made Y/n’s clit throb as Feyd's thrusts became erratic. He snarled his teeth and bit Y/n’s lower lip. “I can feel your walls clenching, wife. Come for your Baron. Good girl, so good for me.” He purred, his voice sending her over the edge, her body shattering under the pressure of the aftershocks jolting her body as Feyd grunted before coming inside her, painting her walls with his seed.
Both panting, Feyd smiled,d flipping them over, throwing one of her legs around his waist. He nudged his nose with hers. His hips began to move again Y/n writhed underneath him as Feyd kissed her throat,t his tongue licking up from her neck to her cheek. “I’ve been aching for you since our wedding night. I apologise for distancing myself; I didn’t want to hurt you,” He hissed, feeling her hand on his cheek Y/n smiled up at him. “I wouldn’t have minded, you know”, She breathed, her eyes glittering with tears brimming in the corners. Overwhelmed with pleasure, Feyd chuckled, “Is my wife sensitive? Look at you so fucked out on my cock. Your beginning to cry”, he teased her, kissing her tears away, licking afterwards, tasting the salt. His eyes darted down, grabbing her hand and placing it on her stomach. “Do you feel me, Y/n, how deep I am inside you” he purred, his hot breath fanning her face, her soft eyes following his gaze seeing the outline of his cock in her stomach. The familiar fire in her lower belly rose as she moaned. “Feyd, don’t stop, please”, she begged. Feyd pressed himself harder into her body, his hips moving faster, turning into a brutal pace. “This what you want? Hm,m,” he moaned. Y/n nodded her head, gasping sharply.
Feyd pressed his thumb to her clit rubbing in small circles while he kissed her neck. Biting down, Feyd broke her delicate skin as he lapped at the coppery taste of her blood. It was sweet, just like her; his eyes rolled in the back of his head. Y/n sobbed, the building pleasure of her climax mixed with the pain of Feyd biting her neck. She screamed out Feyd’s name as she came around him. Feyd followed his hips, stuttering as he let out a roar in Y/n’s neck. Feyd slowly sat up and pulled out of Y/n, and she whined at the loss of him as they both lay side by side. Staring at the ceiling, both with blissed smiles on their faces. They both turned to face one another, their breathing uneven as they recovered from their lovemaking.
“I love you, Y/n”, Feyd whispered with a beautiful smile. His blue eyes shined with love, and Y/n mirrored his expression. “I love you too, Feyd.”
Tags: @cynic-spirit
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Don’t let me love you ♡ Hyunjin (Siren part II)
♡ Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader
♡ Genre: Camboy!Hyunjin, friends with benefits to lovers
♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), sex work, mentions of smoking, drinking, oral sex (female receiving), orgasm delay/denial, sex toys, marking, nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie, choking (only a little tho)
♡ Word count: 15.7k
♡ Synopsis: Hyunjin has been a camboy since he turned eighteen and a host since the age of twenty. His life and line of work had him building up a fortress of walls to keep himself safe, but he’s powerless as he watches you unknowingly break them down. Although he knows you deserve better than him, he battles with a selfish desire that wants nothing more than to allow himself to love you.
♡ A/N: Part two of what was supposed to be a one-shot, but people made my brain think things and I wrote 15.7K WORDS. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that so many people actually wanted a part two of something I wrote, so I wanna say thank you 🩷
← part I
Your situation with Hyunjin has been going on for almost eight months now.
Some things have changed; he’s undoubtedly more clingy with you, and you started hanging out with no intentions of having sex. What remains unchanged, however, is the fact that he’s still the same old egotistical idiot.
The thing is, you somehow grew to like that about him. It’s amusing to you just how much he loves himself, gloating about his conquests at the club or bragging about maintaining his number-one spot on the camming website. Although this only makes you even more certain you would never entertain the idea of being with someone like him, having the man who makes you come so hard also make you laugh just as much is a nice bonus.
Hyunjin began coming over to your apartment around two months ago, gradually wearing down your resistance with a lot of pestering until you finally let him in. Your home was almost sacred to you. Hooking up in his apartment was one thing, doing that in the familiarity of your home made it feel almost too intimate. You’ve fucked on the couch, on the kitchen counter, in the shower, but you never allow him into your bedroom. You’re not entirely sure why, but it would feel as if you were tainting your favorite place if he were to fuck you in your bed.
You’re getting ready for a date in your bathroom with Hyunjin sitting on the floor behind you, claiming the view of your ass from that angle was optimal. He lets out a loud chuckle as he watches you dab yet another layer of concealer on the hickey he left on your collarbone earlier tonight.
“Fuck off,” you snap at him. “You think this is funny?”
“Well, yeah, ‘cause it is,” he simply says, and you see him shrugging in the mirror, a grin tugging at one corner of his lip.
Hyunjin has the maddening habit of marking you. Although you told him numerous times how much you hate it, he conveniently ignores that when you have sex, and you’re always too clouded by lust to say anything about it.
“What are you doing on your livestream tonight?” You ask after finally making the small, red blotch on your skin imperceptible.
Watching Hyunjin cam has become your go-to de-stressing method after work. Sitting in a corner far away from the camera, you watch him do his job with ease, like it’s second nature to him. It’s almost intoxicating how he seems to always know what to say to get his viewers going, knowing exactly when to be mean and when to play the role of a caring boyfriend. It makes you clench around nothing, hungrily watching as he makes himself come all over his stomach so deliciously it has you eager to be fucked as soon as he’s done.
He hums. “Well, they really seemed to like the toys I tried last weekend, so I guess that’s what I’m doing for the next few weeks.”
“Ooh, so you’re sticking to the toys now,” you tease him with a grin.
Last Saturday, you watched as Hyunjin opened fan gifts he had received in his PO box during his livestream. Some were extremely questionable (if you had a nickel for every time he pulled out used panties from a box, you’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice), while some were exactly what you would expect to be sent to a camboy. A variety of BDSM gear, kinky costumes fans wanted him to wear, and of course, a lot of sex toys.
Hyunjin shrugs again, leaning on his left hand and staring up at you through the mirror. “I kinda have to do whatever my viewers want to keep my number one ranking.”
“And are you going to the club tonight?”
“Nah,” he yawns and rests his head against the wall. “Took the day off. My spot there is secured,” his lips upturn into a grin. “No other guy at that club can compete with me.”
That’s another thing you learned about Hyunjin these past months; his club and website rankings are extremely important to him. You also learned he has an Only Fans account on the side where he shares videos and pictures of himself, and he pesters you about making any type of content with him every couple of weeks. You were tempted after seeing the enticing amount of money that was in it for you, but your decision was unswayed.
Your confidence wasn’t like his. You’re sure having your performance and appearance scrutinized by strangers would make you go insane.
Nonetheless, you struggle to conceal your jealousy toward Hyunjin’s jobs, as they seem so damn perfect in your eyes. How great would it be if you could essentially work only when you felt like it? Not to mention the fact that both his jobs are basically having orgasms and looking pretty, which certainly seems heavenly when compared to your headache-inducing corporate job.
He even delayed the starting time of his livestream tonight for the sole purpose of tormenting you while you get ready.
Jihoon is your first proper date in almost a year, as you only allowed yourself the luxury of dating after getting the promotion you were working for. He’s in your company’s finance department, and you two have been casually flirting for three months. You tried your best to ignore him for a couple of weeks, but not only was he ridiculously good-looking, he was also the breathing definition of boyfriend material. He was kind, holding doors open and helping other workers carry heavy boxes with a smile on his face. He was caring, always arriving at the office with coffee for his coworkers, having memorized everyone’s order.
Not to mention the whispered rumors that echoed through the hallways of the ninth floor. Your friend, who had recently moved into the finance department, shared them with you after a drunken night out. Jihoon was apparently amazing in bed, all while being a perfect gentleman. The perfect blend of rough and sweet, and never one to kiss and tell — all these rumors apparently coming from women in his department who had dated him and couldn’t keep themselves from gushing about their unforgettable experience with him.
But it would be a lie to say you were excited about this date because of him.
It was the prospect of how much this could vex Hyunjin that really got you eager.
A couple of nights ago, you joked with Hyunjin about how Jihoon was the complete antithesis of him, hence why he was the ideal candidate for a boyfriend. Hyunjin’s reaction was exactly what you anticipated, with him becoming visibly annoyed and grumbling about how Jihoon probably talks a big game but does the bare minimum in bed.
You simply laughed because the mere thought that another man could be just as good, if not better, than him in bed was what ticked Hyunjin off. Never mind that you said Jihoon was perfect because he was everything he was not.
“You know,” Hyunjin suddenly says, “We should make a bet.”
And you hesitate for a beat and a half because you know Hyunjin.
Still, you sigh and answer, “Sure. What kind of bet?”
“If this guy is really that good in bed, then I’ll pay for your next date myself,” he vows, his smirk only growing as you turn to look at him through the mirror. “If he’s average, you go on a date with me.”
You silently look at him for a few seconds before laughter bursts out of you.
“Hyunjin, do you fucking hate me?” You ask, turning your body toward him. “I get shitty sex then have to endure a date with you?”
He shrugs, rising to stand in front of you. “This just proved to me how much faith you have in your date,” he calmly says. He then leans into you, caging you against the countertop, hands beside your body. Hyunjin bends his face to yours, his breath tickling your skin as he speaks, “Just admit you know no guy will ever be a better fuck than me.”
You scoff at his arrogance, pushing him until his back hits the wall.
“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”
Hyunjin follows you when you leave the bathroom to grab your purse in the living room, loudly clicking his tongue behind you.
“Why’d you dress up for him?” He huffs, and you turn to look at him with a raised brow. “This fucking short dress and shit.” He rakes his eyes over your body from head to toe, tugging at his bottom lip. “I should make you dress up for me, too. You look hot.”
By now, you’ve learned that the best course of action to follow when dealing with Hyunjin’s monumental ego is to ignore it altogether. It’s also quite entertaining to purposefully give him answers you know will vex him, so you sweetly smile at him.
“Thank you,” you beam, your fingers toying with the hem of your short dress, pulling up the fabric. “Hopefully Jihoon thinks the same.”
Hyunjin rolls his eyes, curling an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his body. He harshly presses his lips to yours, undoubtedly smudging your lipstick. His tongue pushes past your lips, brushing against your own. It’s almost like an act of possessiveness — leaving his taste on your tongue before you go off to your date with another man.
He tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you even closer. But just as you’re getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the sound of your doorbell echoes through the room, and your eyes widen. Pulling away, you promptly push Hyunjin back and wipe the corners of your mouth. You stifle a chuckle when your eyes land on his face; red lipstick smudged all over his lips.
“Stay in the bathroom until I leave,” you tell him while grabbing your purse from the couch. He rolls his eyes again, this time with a scowl contorting his features.
You smile at Jihoon when you open your door. Barely giving him the chance to say hello, you hurry him toward the elevator, reminding him of your reservation. You know Hyunjin, and you wouldn’t put it past him to show up behind you simply to stir up some drama.
But that’s the thing; you know Hyunjin, yet you still choose to stay in this strange arrangement with him. Because it’s the fact that you know him, for some reason you’re unsure of yourself, that makes you actually like him a little bit.
Hyunjin ends his livestream as usual, saying goodnight with a promise of seeing his viewers again tomorrow night. He never acknowledges tips and addresses no one by their name or username. Some cammers wear masks to conceal their identities — this cavalier persona, uncaring and nonchalant, is Hyunjin’s mask.
Letting out a heavy sigh, he goes on to do the arduous task of cleaning up the fleshlight he used tonight. It was a gift from a viewer, who begged him — with quite a lot of tips — to use it for her. What was initially meant to be a one-time thing has now become his new routine, as his viewers couldn’t get enough of it.
Hyunjin hates this part of his camming job: the incessant need to please the people who watch him, lest they abandon him and move on to a new cammer. He doesn’t mind the sex toys — although cleaning them makes him want to throw his entire collection out the window — but he’s had to do a lot of shit he really didn’t want to, all in the name of maintaining his number one spot.
He was eighteen when he first started. In desperate need of money after moving out of home for college, one of his friends suggested he sell his nudes to people around campus. When Hyunjin scowled and asked why the fuck that was his first and only suggestion, the boy laughed. He remembers his words to this day:
“Hyunjin, you know you don’t really have anything else other than your looks. Your grades are shit, and you’re lazy as fuck. This is pretty much the only way you can ever make money.”
And by that age, that was nothing new to Hyunjin, as he had heard different variations of that same speech his entire life. When he was a child, his parents urged him to become an idol or a model, going so far as to motivate him to ignore his schoolwork to attend auditions (even when he whined about how much he hated them).
His mother always said his face had the power to make people love him while studying would only lead to success.
“It’s much better to be loved, Hyunjin,” she told him when he was ten. “Anyone can reach success if they try hard enough, but being loved is a privilege only special people can have.”
By his late teens, when his reputation began to precede him after countless hookups during high school, his friends assured him he could make a lot of money off of sex.
Either way, the consensus was always that the only thing Hyunjin had to offer were his looks and body.
At first, he hated it. He wanted nothing more than to be appreciated for anything other than what his face looked like, or how good he was in bed. He got his grades up, excelled in hobbies he actually liked, and even set goals for himself after college. But Hyunjin never heard a word of praise from his parents, and his friends were always more interested in who he was hooking up with than how he got to the top of his class. After a while, he realized he was simply fighting a losing battle.
So he accepted that truth, because it couldn’t hurt him if he were the one to incentivize it.
That was why he decided to follow his friend’s asinine suggestion.
His first endeavor was with simple videos of himself jerking off in front of his mirror, the shitty camera of his phone certainly hindering his attempt at making the whole thing pleasing to the eyes. He would promote them through text messages to acquaintances he’d met at parties at first, later creating a Twitter account dedicated solely to selling these videos. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was certainly more than his friends made while working monotonous shifts at coffee shops.
Only four months later, he coincidentally entered the world of camming through a girl he had been hooking up with.
They were in her bedroom, just about to have sex, when she giggled against his lips and told him she could make a lot of money if he fucked her during one of her livestreams. He said he could make a lot of money if she let him record them fucking.
They ultimately reached an agreement, and Hyunjin appeared on his first-ever livestream that same night — a mask covering both their faces and the money made split evenly between them.
He recalls how his eyes were glued to her computer screen the entire time. He was used to praises and compliments, but there was something different about having a stranger openly say they’d do anything to be in that girl’s place, that they would pay to have him fuck them, or even something as simple as telling Hyunjin how good he was. It had a rush of euphoria cursing through his veins.
It was as if, for the first time in his life, he had found something he was truly good at, something that he was entirely in control of. He was a natural, and he enjoyed every moment of it, easily slipping into the persona he wears to this day.
He got drunk on that validation and was desperate to have it again.
After that night, he created his own account, with many of his hookup’s viewers following him immediately. He dropped out of college soon after he started, as the money he made from camming along with selling his content on Only Fans already exceeded the estimated salary in his field of study.
Hyunjin was good, and he loved being good. Most importantly, he loved knowing he was good.
That’s why he simply ignores the few times he’s had to do things he wasn’t all that keen on doing. Because at the end of the day, that’s the only thing he’s good at — pleasing people, no matter the cost.
After a long shower, Hyunjin walks back into his room and sinks into his bed. He’s glad he took the day off from his job at the club since a viewer tipped him $300 to edge himself for as long as he could tonight. After an hour of that, the only thing he wants is to curl up in bed and sleep for hours.
He buries himself under his blankets, but just as his eyes flutter closed, the sound of laughter echoes through his room. Your laughter.
He sits up in bed almost immediately, a grin etched onto his lips. He still remembers the day he found out his walls were paper thin; the day you touched yourself while he was streaming. He knew you were so sure you had been quiet — only letting out small whimpers and sighs — but he heard you regardless, and your pretty noises made it even easier for him to come that night. He initially assumed you were simply masturbating, but when you came knocking at his door the very next day to complain about how noisy he was, he knew you were touching yourself to the sound of his voice.
Hyunjin has fucked many women in his life, but for that silly fact alone, none piqued his interest quite like you did.
He rests his back against the headboard, ready to listen to you complain on the phone to some friend, grumbling about how fucking awful your date had been. But a masculine voice suddenly permeates through the wall, filling his room with the sound of your date’s obnoxious laughter.
“I had a really nice time tonight,” he slurs, clearly a bit tipsy.
“Me too,” you giggle, and Hyunjin’s face twists into a scowl. Since when do you giggle like that?
He hastily yanks the covers off his body, rushing to settle into his computer chair in a shameless effort to hear your conversation more clearly.
“Sorry I laughed when you spilled your drink on your dress,” the guy — whose name Hyunjin frankly didn’t care enough to memorize — apologizes before adding, “Do I make you that nervous?”
And it’s like Hyunjin can hear the smirk in the man’s voice. Why the fuck must this annoy him so much? Couldn’t you go back to his place to fuck? Maybe you’re pissed at him over the bet, and this is a desperate attempt to prove you’re right. He scoffs, running a hand through his hair before reclining on the chair.
Just means you’ll be having mediocre sex while he listens.
“Of course I was nervous,” you reply. “Look at you, this shirt’s been driving me crazy since you picked me up.”
The man snickers. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you state matter-of-factly, “Kept looking at your arms the entire night. Couldn’t think straight,” your voice drops to a whisper, and Hyunjin could recognize the alluring lilt that envelops your voice from a mile away.
You use it with him almost every night.
Your date hums. “Oh, you like my arms?”
And Hyunjin can just picture the man flexing his muscles. What a fucking idiot.
His room is filled with the creaking sound of your bed, and he physically cringes. He can’t believe you’re really gonna make him listen to you fuck another guy. He especially can’t believe you so easily let this fucker into your bedroom. Hyunjin has known you for eight months, and you still adamantly insist that your bedroom is off-limits.
Maybe this is his long-overdue punishment for making you lose sleep for a month.
Your room suddenly falls into an odd stillness. All Hyunjin can do is sit in the dark, consumed by the incessant ticking of his clock, unable to tear his gaze away from the wall in front of him. His mind becomes his own worst enemy, flooding his imagination with vivid images of you laid out underneath this man, his arms you seemingly love so much caging you between the mattress and his body while his lips explore every inch of your skin. Or maybe you’re on top, rolling your hips in that slow, tantalizing rhythm that drives Hyunjin mad while looking at him with lust-clouded eyes.
The sound of you softly whimpering shakes him out of his thoughts, and Hyunjin subconsciously clenches his fists. Despite hearing the guy talk to you again, all he makes out is a jumble of garbled, muffled sounds.
He isn’t sure how long he stays there, eyes boring holes into the wall until his vision goes blurry and gnawing on his lips until he tears at the delicate skin. His ears sting with the sound of your bed frame hitting your shared wall, and your sighs and moans he loves so much only seem to mock him.
When the sardonic symphony eventually fades into silence, Hyunjin remains where he is. He feels powerless; he can’t stop how his heart weighs heavy in his chest or do anything but feel the scorching flame of anger searing his veins.
He’s memorized your date’s name by now — Jihoon, as your voice repeatedly called out.
For the first time in so long, Hyunjin was no longer in control.
Hyunjin struggles to conceal his annoyance when you show up at his door the next day as if nothing had happened. The hickey he gave you no longer being concealed by makeup and your ever-present grin only added to his aggravation, as if you were relishing in his agony. He wants nothing more than to fuck that smug grin off your pretty lips, but he can’t bring himself to touch you. Not when his ego is bruised by how easily another man could please you.
After all, that was all Hyunjin had to offer. Why were you even here in the first place? If you had already found someone else to fuck you, he had nothing more to give you.
Sitting on his couch, Hyunjin’s frustration gets the best of him, and he’s the first to break the silence.
“I don’t even gotta ask if you had a good time last night,” he sneers, and you stifle a chuckle, trying but ultimately failing to keep a straight face.
“Yeah, the restaurant was nice.”
Hyunjin can’t contain the scoff that escapes his lips, his mouth curling in disdain. “You know damn well I’m not talking about the restaurant.”
You cock your head to the side, brows knitting together as you put on your best act of naivety.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean?” You ask, voice dripping in sarcasm.
Hyunjin is pushing your body onto the couch before he realizes what he’s doing, the rage he felt last night no longer laying dormant in his bloodstream. He cages you against the cushions, his hands resting beside your body. You instinctively spread your thighs to accommodate him.
“You think you’re so fucking funny, don’t you?” He asks, bending his face to yours. You shrug with a contented sigh, lifting your arms to wrap around his back.
Hyunjin scoffs, and you let out a yelp as he abruptly hoists your legs over his shoulders, fingertips digging into the flesh of your thighs. He leans down to kiss you, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth but pulls away before you can register to kiss him back, leaving you to chase after his touch.
“Is this how he fucked you?” He asks with a hum, his lips hovering mere inches above yours. His hold on your thighs becomes bruisingly tight as he waits for your answer. “Hm? Did he fuck you good?”
“We were both tipsy,” you murmur, breath hitching as he pushes his hardening member against your clothed core. “It was okay.”
A grin tugs at the corner of his lips, and Hyunjin mockingly pouts. “So he wasn’t the sex god you were promised, baby?”
You roll your eyes. “I just said it was okay.”
Hyunjin shakes his head, his gaze transfixed by the way your eyes look up at him while you subtly roll your hips up into him. He’s not stupid, he knows the reason why you have such an infuriating effect on him. He’s never going to be good enough for you outside of being a good fuck, yet he feels a blooming yearning inside of his chest that makes him selfishly want to keep you to himself. Even if he has nothing else to offer you.
So he chooses to swallow his pride, just this once, to prove to you why you should choose to stay and stop searching for pleasure in other men — because Hyunjin knows you will find much more than that in them. Much more than what he has.
“‘Okay’ isn’t what you deserve,” He tuts, his mind slowly fogging over with desire as you roll your hips harder against his length. “Isn’t what you’re used to after all these months, is it? Hm?” He urges, raising a hand to lightly brush against your jaw before gripping it. “Answer me.”
Hyunjin knows you’re struggling not to give in; that’s one of his favorite things about having sex with you. The push and pull, how you try so hard to act tough and unbothered but ultimately melt under his touch every time. Even so, he was only able to truly break you for the first time a couple of months ago. You’re obstinate, he’ll give you that.
You shrug again, and he knows it’s the only answer he’ll get from you for now.
“Are you gonna see him again?” He asks instead.
You let out a quiet sigh as Hyunjin lazily grazes your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.
“Don’t think so.”
“Yeah?” He asks, arching a brow almost knowingly. “I can’t help but think you only brought him home to make me listen to you.”
And you giggle at that. The same overly sweet, coy giggle Hyunjin heard through his wall last night.
“I guess you’ll never know,” you simply answer, running a hand through his hair and lightly gripping a fistful while your eyes flicker down to his lips.
Hyunjin wastes no more time talking to you — he knows your conversations usually lead nowhere. He crashes his lips into yours, fingers gripping your jaw once more and forcing your lips open, his tongue slipping inside your mouth. You whimper into the kiss, a sound he knows slipped past your lips unwittingly. Your tongue swirls against his, and he savors your taste with a low hum.
You tilt your hips up, chasing after him again and whining when Hyunjin moves out of reach. He smiles.
“You want me to give you what you’re used to?” He asks against your lips, and you’re quick to nod. “So fucking greedy, made me listen to you get fucked last night only to come running back to me.” He slides his hands under your ass and picks you up effortlessly, carrying you toward his bedroom with an exasperated sigh. “Would’ve been easier if you just admitted no guy will ever be as good as me, wouldn’t it?”
“Shut the fuck up,” you snarl, but your words are cut short as Hyunjin throws you onto his bed and promptly walks to his wardrobe. “At least Jihoon got to it quick. I’m not one of your viewers, I don’t care much for your chatter.”
Hyunjin lets out a hearty laugh, retrieving a small blue box from among his clothes and sitting at the edge of the bed. “He got to it quick? Is that your way of telling me your date was a one-minute man?”
You open your mouth as if you’re ready to refute him but ultimately close it and cross your arms over your chest, willing him to do something. Hyunjin stifles another laugh.
“Good thing you have me, then,” He mutters, the goading lilt to his voice impossible to disguise. Placing the box on his nightstand, he hovers over your body once again. “I got all these toys, and we never got around to playing with them together.”
You visibly shudder, nodding slowly as Hyunjin looms over you. He slots your lips together once more, this time much more softly. Your tongue lightly brushes against his bottom lip, licking into his mouth as your thighs wrap around his hips, hooking your ankles behind him and drawing his body flush against yours.
With each languid and deliberate stroke of his tongue, Hyunjin revels in the way he can feel you grow more impatient, tugging at the fabric of his shirt and rutting your hips against his. His hands slip under the hem of your shirt to grip your waist, easing your movements. The way his cock strains against his sweatpants becomes impossible to ignore as his hard length presses against your warm core harder and harder with each roll of your hips.
Hyunjin’s hand glides from your waist to your stomach, caressing your skin before finding its way to your cunt, fingers harshly pressing against your clothed wetness. You whimper into the kiss as he lazily circles your clit over the fabric of your shorts.
“Let’s make a deal,” Hyunjin whispers as he pulls away. “You admit I’m the best fuck you’re ever gonna have, and I might let you come.”
He punctuates his words with a firm press of his fingers to your clit, and he can visibly see your resolve crumbling before him, but you still force out an indignant huff.
“In your dreams,” you shakily breathe out.
Hyunjin shrugs, his fingers leaving your core and traveling over the expanse of your stomach. He promptly rids you of your shirt, and you hiss as his hands brush against your sensitive nipples, Hyunjin watching as they immediately stiffen in response.
Your habit of not wearing a bra nearly drives Hyunjin insane — even on the first day you came knocking at his door, he remembers having to fight the urge to glance down at the way your nipples peaked beneath the fabric of your white shirt.
You’ve been driving him crazy since you walked into his line of sight.
Hyunjin lightly massages your breasts before grazing your hardened nipples with his thumbs, swiftly sucking one into his mouth, causing sighs to spill from your lips as your hand tangled in his hair. He flicks the stiff bud with his tongue before grazing his teeth over it, and you roughly tug at his roots. He smiles against your skin, nudging the peak of your nipples with his lips and sighing.
“Say it,” he calmly tells you, but your only response is tugging harder at his hair. “You’re so stubborn,” He chides, tugging his shirt over his head. “I told you, you’re only coming if you fucking admit it.”
He slowly moves onto the foot of the bed, his hands roaming along your legs with featherlight touches. He places wet kisses from your stomach to your inner thighs, sucking lightly at the skin until his lips hovered tantalizingly close to your still-clothed, aching cunt. And then he stops, instead pressing a kiss to your hips.
“Hyunjin,” his name falls from your lips as a breathy whine. He looks up to find your gaze already on him, eyes silently pleading. He grins, thumbs drawing circles on your inner thighs as you push your hips into his face, but he promptly pulls away. “Please,” you finally whisper, although barely audibly.
Hyunjin hums, satisfied, pressing a wet kiss to your core through the fabric of your shorts before sliding them down your legs along with your panties. He hisses through his teeth at the sight of your wetness, thumbs gliding up and down your folds before spreading you before him. His tongue immediately pokes out to travel up your slit before wrapping his lips around your swollen clit, sucking harshly, and your hand soon flies to rest on his head.
He lifts his eyes once more, humming against your folds as he finds your head rolled back onto his pillows, lips falling open as you softly mewl. He could listen to your sweet sounds all night, reveling in the way every flick of his tongue made you become louder and louder until you were all but screaming his name.
But he has to teach you a lesson tonight.
His tongue delves deep into you, gliding against your slick inner walls, causing even more arousal to flood his lips. His eyes flutter closed with a pleased hum, lapping up every drop of your wetness.
“Fuck,” you rasp, and Hyunjin knows you’re close.
With a wicked grin, he slips two fingers into your warm cunt, curling them just the way you love while his tongue expertly circles your clit. When you roll your hips against his lips, yanking his head toward your body, Hyunjin pulls away.
He watches as your eyes shoot open and you frown at him, but he simply grins, thumb wiping at his glistening mouth before slipping the digit into your agape lips.
“Say it,” he repeats, unrelenting, and stifles a laugh when you groan loudly.
You hook a leg around his waist, bringing his body close to yours again, the heat of his thick cock pressing against your soaked cunt. Hyunjin sucks in a breath, focusing on reining in his emotions, determined not to let you win. His mind is already completely clouded with lust, desperate to fuck you into the mattress, but he refuses to give you the satisfaction of watching him give in to you.
He bends his face to yours, gasping out a curse as he watches the way you swirl your tongue around his finger with a hum, lazily sucking it while maintaining your eyes locked onto his. He presses the pad of his thumb down onto your tongue, and your lips obediently fall open before upturning into a taunting smile.
You still think you’re in control.
Hyunjin shakes his head, his resolve coming back to him.
His fingers fall from your tongue, and he presses his lips against yours. You melt into the kiss, hands traveling down the expanse of Hyunjin’s abdomen, then back up to wrap around his broad shoulders. He lets you do as you please, rummaging through his box until his fingers brush against what he’s looking for. He sucks your tongue into his mouth, ultimately distracting you, and you let out a small whimper, which grows into a loud groan as he presses the blunt tip of the massaging wand to your clit and switches it to the medium setting.
“What the fuck,” You all but growl into his lips, and Hyunjin hums.
“Does it feel good, baby?”
You let out a shuddering sigh. “T-Too much,” you whimper, hands scrambling for Hyunjin’s arms in an attempt to ground yourself, but ultimately clawing at his bedsheets.
He glides the wand along your drenched folds, moving up and down, eyes transfixed on the way your arousal drips out of you and coats the toy. Your entire body jolts when he harshly presses the vibrating tip directly onto your clit. He could come just by watching you squirm underneath him, loud groans falling from your lips. How he wished Jihoon could be in your room, listening to how beautiful you sound when you’re actually being taken care of properly.
Hyunjin feels his cock twitch every time your body shudders, trying to escape the relentless vibrations, sticky precum gathering in his sweatpants and increasing his discomfort. He desperately wants to fuck you.
With a low grunt, he leans in closer to you, pinning your arm to your side and flicking his wrist as he presses down harder on your swollen clit.
“Got no idea how pretty you sound, do you?” He hisses, “If only you weren’t such a fucking brat and just — fuck.”
His words dissipate when your free hand wiggles between your bodies and pulls down his sweatpants, freeing his cock. Your fingers immediately wrap around his length, squeezing him tightly before frantically stroking him. The sounds that echoed through the room were lewd, unmistakable evidences of both your arousals.
Hyunjin pulls the wand from your clit, turning down the vibrations and letting it rest against one of your peaked nipples while he grips his cock in his fist, the swollen tip prodding at your entrance, just barely pushing in. You whimper loudly, clutching his arm, fingernails digging crescent moons into his pale skin.
“Come on,” he growls, cock now gliding up and down your slit. “I know you wanna come, just fucking say it.”
But you’re unrelenting, staring into his eyes and weakly shaking your head.
Hyunjin stops his movements altogether, his shaft nestled against your soaking cunt, the head of his cock resting heavily on your clit. He presses the wand down onto his length, increasing the intensity to the highest setting. A loud, broken moan falls from your throat as your shaky hands grip his wrist, your back arching off the bed. You try to push the toy away, but Hyunjin’s free hand wraps around your neck, effortlessly pinning your pliant body down onto the mattress.
He presses his forehead to yours, his sweat dripping down onto your breasts as he fights off his orgasm.
“Fucking say it,” he hisses, tears gathering in your lashes. The unyielding vibrations from the wand traveling through his cock and going straight onto your clit, coupled with the way his hand tightens around your throat, finally have every bit of your resolve crumbling.
“You,” you choke out, “Best fuck I’ll ever fucking have, Hyunjin, god — I wanna come, please.”
Hyunjin feels satisfaction enveloping his entire being, and the pleasure intensifies tenfold, his cock twitching and a low groan reverberating from the depths of his chest.
“Come for me, baby,” he breathes out, giving your neck one last squeeze, and your climax erupts from you with a loud cry. As your entire body convulses and your head tilts back, Hyunjin can feel your release coating his cock before dripping onto the sheets below.
As you struggle to catch your breath, your grip on his wrist tightens and your body squirms away from the vibrations, but Hyunjin only presses down harder, seeking his own release. He soon comes with a sigh, eyebrows scrunching together, his cum landing all over your cunt.
He turns off the vibrator, labored breaths mixing with yours as you two come down from your highs.
“You’re fucking insane,” you chuckle after a beat.
And Hyunjin’s lips stretch into a lazy smile. “And you owe me a date.”
You were reluctant at first, having assumed it was simply Hyunjin’s ego talking that night, only teasing you because you were going on a date with someone else when he proposed that odd bet. However, you eventually found out he wasn’t at all joking and actually wanted his ‘prize’ — as he called it — for winning the bet.
Figuring out a date was an aggravating task, given that Hyunjin worked on weekends and you worked on weekdays. You told him numerous times to just let it go; you could simply hang out in his apartment like you usually did and call it a date. It wasn’t anything serious, just another one of his whims.
But Hyunjin’s persistence was unwavering, and he settled for taking yet another day off and canceling his livestream altogether so he could take you out on a Saturday.
Although you weren’t looking forward to it at first, you unknowingly smiled whenever you saw the day marked on your calendar alongside your endless work assignments. It was ridiculous, and you wouldn’t admit it to him, but deep down, you were actually excited about this date. You wanted to know what it’s like to have a conversation that doesn’t end in you two bickering, wanted to know what it feels like to hang out with him without the thought of fucking looming over your heads.
You were strangely excited to get to know Hyunjin outside the four walls of your apartments.
But the Sunday before your date, disappointment washed over you like a cold bucket of water when Hyunjin told you he had to cancel.
What did you expect? You knew Hyunjin. This should’ve been the obvious outcome from the start, but you were stupid and allowed yourself to be swept away by a hope that proved too good to be true.
He waited until he finished his livestream to tell you — as if canceling less than a week before wasn’t already bad enough. Your irritation reached its peak as you sat in his bed and listened to him insist it wasn’t his fault.
“One of the other hosts had a family emergency so he’ll be gone for two weekends,” he explained, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his words. Family emergency. Of course.
“Hyunjin, you say that like you don’t take countless days off with no issues,” you refuted, and his frown deepened while he shook his head.
Just say you don’t wanna go on this stupid date.
He sighed, rubbing his temples. “It’s not like that. We have rules to follow,” he insisted. “Only one host can be absent at a time. I don’t have a valid reason for bailing on Saturday, so I’m forced to go.”
“Or you’ll lose your precious number one spot?”
“Or I’ll lose my fucking job.”
And you simply shrugged as you ultimately realized that was yet another pointless conversation between you. You then went on to have sex, as you always did when confronted with the threat of a serious conversation, and the topic was forgotten.
At least by Hyunjin.
You spend the next days avoiding him to the best of your abilities. Deep down, you know you’re behaving like a child, but the way you allowed yourself to get excited over something as stupid as a date with him still makes you feel pathetic. It’s impossible not to feel like he raised your hopes only for the pleasure of shutting you down. All because you went out with someone else, and you know that was a blow to his ego.
You two have never been anything more than friends who hook up — and even using that term feels almost comical, seeing as you two can’t have a conversation without it turning into a petty argument or an ego battle — but his insistence on this date, and your own eagerness seemed to hint at something more.
Clearly, you were mistaken.
You brought Jihoon back to your apartment hoping to have mind-blowing sex after a nice date. Plus, you knew Hyunjin would hear you, and you terribly wanted to deflate his ego. A win-win situation in your book. Instead, you had mediocre sex at best. Jihoon skipped foreplay entirely, simply pounded into you, and finished far too quickly while leaving you hanging.
Maybe he was too tipsy to perform well, or maybe the women in your office are living in a depressing reality where a guy’s ability to find the clitoris means he’s a god among men. Either way, even after putting on your best performance, Hyunjin still saw right through you.
And the worst part is, even you can’t explain why you did that. Your mind argues it was all for the pleasure of vexing him; he’s been annoying you since he first moved in next door, after all. But your heart is quick to jump in with a list of facts and reasons why that can’t be the case — all while presenting some valid arguments that lead you to believe you might like Hyunjin more than originally planned.
But he was still Hyunjin at the end of the day. Your egotistical idiot neighbor whose fragile ego you hurt, so he’s retaliating.
After three days of successfully ignoring Hyunjin, one of your friends at work makes all your work crumble with a single phrase.
“I can’t believe we still haven’t gone back to The Siren,” she grumbled during lunch, and you stabbed an innocent piece of broccoli with your fork.
That was all it took to ignite your curiosity.
You sit at your desk later in the day and look up that damn club, telling yourself you simply want to find out why your friends are so desperate to go there. This has nothing to do with Hyunjin.
Upon entering their website, you realize The Siren wasn’t a nightclub as you had imagined; it’s an elegant lounge with a lavish-looking bar you’re sure charged $5 for a bottle of water. As you read the club’s About Us page, the entrance fee almost has you choking on your coffee, despite it being expected for such a place. Among several rules, one catches your eye:
The club allows a maximum of twenty attendees per night, offering a choice of twenty-five hosts.
You gnaw on your bottom lip at the realization that perhaps Hyunjin wasn’t lying, and that was the reason only one host could be absent at a time.
Eventually, you find your way to the Hosts section of the website. You’re a bit taken aback by how these men are presented as amenities, like products displayed at an online shop, with nothing but their names and a picture along with their price.
They’re divided into tiers: gold, emerald, and platinum. Hosts in the gold tier are younger, most likely having just started on the job, and their prices are the most affordable. The emerald tier is more expensive, with some hosts who look old enough to be your father. The disturbing realization dawns on you that these men’s values diminish as they age.
On the platinum tier, only five hosts are displayed, and you blanch at each of their unique prices. Hyunjin is the most expensive, at $500, excluding extra fees. You click on his black and white picture, and a myriad of photos of Hyunjin flood your screen. You’re struck by how different he looks in these shots; his styled hair and impeccably tailored suits look nothing like the man you see at your apartments every day, lounging around in sweatpants and loose t-shirts.
A description sits at the top of the page, short but still enough to make you grimace.
Hyunjin has held our club’s esteemed number-one position for two consecutive years now, and rightfully so. Complementing his striking good looks is an alluring personality that will make you feel cherished throughout the evening. His undivided attention will undoubtedly meet your satisfaction, and his additional services will leave you breathless.
You aren’t sure what you were expecting — you were already aware of the nature of Hyunjin’s job as a host — but the club’s portrayal of these people as mere products leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.
Your curiosity has morphed into frustration as you return to the homepage, but a message catches your eye just as you’re about to exit the website. Three spots are now available for Saturday night due to the absence of one of their hosts. And before you can even process your actions, you’ve already booked these spots for you and two friends.
Thank you for choosing to unwind at The Siren! We will contact you individually regarding further details, including host orders.
Host orders? That is enough to make you close the website.
You can’t believe you’re going to do this. You know for a fact Hyunjin will be upset, but you can’t bring yourself to care. If he wants to toy with your emotions, you have every right to show up at this club.
You wait for Hyunjin to leave for work to get ready on Saturday. You weren’t able to avoid him this afternoon and spent the day lazying around in your apartment, binge-watching some new reality TV show he’s obsessed with.
You expected Hana and Naeun to eat you alive for buying tickets to this overpriced club without consulting them first, but their excitement overshadowed any anger they had. You also played up your excitement, although, by the time your shift had ended, you mostly felt regret for spending all that money purely out of spite.
The email you received explains The Siren has a strict dress code, not allowing any client in unless they’re dressed to their standards.
The patrons are required to match our club’s overall atmosphere.
You rolled your eyes. At least their arrogance fit their ostentatious price.
As you skim through their several other rules, you find out that booking a host isn’t mandatory, and often, hosts will seek out patrons themselves if they’re free for the night.
Be prepared to be approached by one of our available hosts at any given moment. Should you be fortunate enough to capture their attention, that is.
Among the rules, you’re also explicitly told that tipping the hosts anything beyond their set prices is strictly forbidden. The more you learned about this club, the more you struggled to understand why Hyunjin held it in such high esteem.
You bring out your best dress from the back of your closet, hoping you ‘matched the club’s overall atmosphere.’ You let out a heavy sigh as you make it past the What Not to Wear crew guarding the entrance alongside the bouncer, and you are officially in.
“This is your first time here, right?” Hana asks you, linking your arms together. You nod, and she grins before adding, “You’re in for a treat.”
The Siren is exactly what you saw in the pictures, only the dim glow of purple neon lights illuminating the extravagant chandeliers, corner sofas, and opulent decorations you know cost more than your month’s rent.
The owner herself personally escorts every single patron to their seats — a tradition spanning over a decade since the club was first inaugurated. Briefly introducing herself as Taeyeon, the beautiful woman leads you through a long corridor adorned with the hosts’ pictures on the walls. Finally, you arrive at a sofa, where a champagne bottle nestled in an ice bucket already waits for you. She informs Naeun that the host she ordered for the night will be a bit late due to personal reasons, before bidding you goodbye with a smile.
You awkwardly shift in your seat as Hana leaves to fetch you drinks from the bar, and your eyes scan the lounge as it slowly fills up with people. You notice a few of the men you saw on the website parading around the club, a grin etched onto their lips as they lock eyes with a few of the patrons. Other hosts are already tending to their ‘dates,’ sitting beside them on the sofas and attentively listening with warm smiles.
Hyunjin wasn’t lying when he said his job was making lonely women feel wanted.
The club itself is rather boring without the satisfaction of a host pampering you. The slow jazz music playing softly in the background makes you feel almost drowsy, and the dim lighting does little to help. For an hour, you watch as hosts come and go. Some lead their clients toward the bar area, partaking in drinking games with other clients and hosts. Others guide women up the black, shimmering staircase at the back of the club, leaving you to wonder where they could possibly be off to. Thankfully, you’ll have Hana to keep you company when Naeun undoubtedly disappears off to somewhere with the host she ‘ordered.’
Your gaze falls on the sofa in front of you, where a host’s dimpled smile lights up his face as he playfully strokes a woman’s cheek, eliciting a shy giggle from her lips before she continues her story. His intense gaze remains fixed on her face, his hand soothingly trailing down her back while he nods, seemingly enthralled by their conversation. It would be a lie to say coming here after a tiring week at work wouldn’t seem like stepping into a dream. Even if it’s all a well-constructed lie, having a handsome guy cater to your every need and listen to you complain without uttering a word is almost fucking idyllic.
Your eyes then wander toward the back of the club, where a small group of hosts is huddled around a circular table, quietly laughing among themselves. Sitting at the center, Taeyeon’s intent gaze oversees her club’s activities while engaged in a heated phone conversation, her scowl deepening with each word she mutters.
You assume these hosts weren’t booked for the night or are still waiting for their clients to arrive. Just as you’re about to advert your gaze, Hyunjin emerges from a door on the left. His hair is meticulously styled, slicked back to reveal his gorgeous face, and his tall figure is dressed in a white button-up shirt tucked neatly under an expensive-looking black blazer.
Hyunjin has always been beautiful in your eyes, but seeing him exude so much confidence stirs up something inside of you.
His mere presence captivates you so strongly you find it impossible to look away, even as his gaze meets yours. A look of utter bewilderment washes over his face as he stills his movements, looking almost startled. You two fall into an impromptu staring contest as if you’re attempting to communicate with your eyes alone until Naeun taps your shoulder, snapping you out of your haze.
“He’s so fucking hot, isn’t he?”
Your brows knit together. “What?”
“The host you’re ogling at,” Naeun giggles, “I saw him on their website the first we came here, but I was too late so I couldn’t get him to myself. I’m so glad you asked us to come tonight ‘cause I got to order him before he was booked,” she explains, and you feel as if all the air has frozen in your lungs. Hyunjin is the host your friend ordered. “I’m fucking broke now, but I know it’ll be worth it.”
You inwardly grimace at how she talks about Hyunjin, almost like he’s only a shiny toy she couldn’t buy in the past. That, coupled with how booking a host is so casually referred to as ordering, makes you feel a bit nauseous.
Hyunjin eventually walks over to your table, as you knew he would. He’s Naeun’s host for the night, after all. As he slowly strides toward your sofa, his focus remains solely on you. For a split second, his eyes flicker with something akin to sadness before he quickly resumes his usual persona.
He immediately takes Naeun’s hand, kissing her knuckles with half-lidded eyes and a sultry grin. The way he looks at her has the knot in your stomach tightening, aching with the realization that it’s the same way he always looks at you. You were never anything special or significant to each other — you’re well aware of that — but the sting you feel is unbearable for some reason.
Hyunjin sits beside Naeun, and his focus shifts entirely to her. His wandering hands leave a trail of goosebumps from her arms to her bare legs, while his whispered words make her cheeks flush a rosy pink. And it feels as if he’s completely ignoring your presence, which is such a foolish thought you almost feel ashamed. This is his job, but reminding yourself of that every couple of minutes somehow only makes you feel worse.
Because this isn’t a one-time thing, this happens every single time he works.
At some point, while you were too busy engrossed in Hyunjin and Naeun, Hana got a host of her own. With his bleached blonde hair, a constellation of freckles on his cheeks, and a deep, gentle voice, it seems he’s done his job at captivating her. Each host seems to embody a specific persona. From his less-touchy demeanor to the softness in his eyes when he looks at Hana, it’s clear that this guy is going for the caring boyfriend type.
As you remember how available hosts sometimes approach clients themselves, you fight back the urge to roll your eyes. If they’re available, no one has booked them for the night, meaning they won’t earn a single dollar. Their focus will undoubtedly be on finding the wealthiest available patron. Hana came from old money, only working at your company after falling out with her family, but her head-to-toe Chanel attire radiates wealth. It’s no wonder this host so graciously chose to sit beside her.
Eventually, Hana is led to the large bar by her host, and the atmosphere in your little space becomes increasingly uncomfortable for you. Your neglected drink is now lukewarm, leaving a damp spot on the hem of your dress as condensation seeps through from where you rested the glass on your thighs.
Hyunjin leaves a few minutes later, taking Naeun by the hand. He briefly turns to look at you, his gaze now nearly unreadable. Only disappointment — or was it hurt? — flashes in his brown eyes before he walks away to lead her up that stairwell.
You sit alone for what feels like an eternity, the once bustling lounge slowly falling into a deafening silence around you. Jealousy and hurt intertwine inside your brain, spinning around in an endless cycle and making your head throb.
You’re only waiting until you’ve finished your way too expensive Cosmopolitan — far too warm to be enjoyable now — when a figure suddenly sits beside you. To your surprise, it’s a host. His styled dark brown hair is messy as if he’s been running his hands through it, and his black button-up shirt has the sleeves rolled up, exposing the veins running along his forearms. He’s hot, there’s no denying, but your sour mood won’t be solved by some eye candy.
“Seems we’re both alone tonight,” he starts, a smile slowly spreading across his lips.
You simply hum, taking a final sip of your drink before placing the glass on the table. You’re not really in the mood to entertain this conversation, so you uncross your legs, ready to leave.
But your movements halt when his hand gently rests on your knee.
“You seem so lonely here all by yourself. Why don’t you come with me?” He offers, and your eyes narrow. He lets out a hearty laugh. “No need to act so suspicious, I’m just making an offer. We’re both alone. What’s the harm?”
To say you were skeptical would be an understatement. You clearly remember his face from the website as he was right beside Hyunjin, at the number two spot of the platinum tier, his price only slightly less offensively expensive.
“I’m Minho,” he offers his hand, which you reluctantly take after telling him your name. After your awkward handshake, you try to pull back, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he places your clasped hands on your lap, his thumb drawing circular shapes on your skin as he continues, “I waited all night for my client to show up. I could really use a distraction.”
Of course.
You take a deep breath, and your gaze shifts towards his face.
“I don’t have money to order you, sorry.”
A smile tugs at the corner of Minho’s lips, his hand leaving yours and finding the skin of your thighs. “How about I make this my treat, then? My client has this habit of ordering me and then ghosting me,” he sighs, “Isn’t that cruel? Taeyeon said she won’t let it fly anymore and is refusing to give her a refund for tonight.”
As Minho’s soft touch glides along your skin, his fingers inching closer to the hem of your dress, your mind replays the scene of Hyunjin’s hand on Naeun's legs. The way he touched her mirrored how he had touched you so many times, and it replayed in your mind like a flickering film. It ignites the flame of ugly jealousy inside of you once more.
“Your treat?” You whisper, and Minho’s face inches closer to yours, your noses brushing together.
“I’d hate for a pretty girl like you to go home unsatisfied,” he whispers.
You’re walking up the gleaming steps of that staircase before you can make sense of what you’re doing. Minho’s hand doesn’t leave your skin for a second, fingers now gliding across your arms as he leads you down a wide corridor. You eye the place curiously, taking in the row of closed, dark wooden doors lining both sides of the hallway.
Minho leads you toward the only door that has been left ajar, and it finally dawns on you what happens on the second floor of The Siren.
The room is not large; a round bed occupies most of the space between the small bar and the dark velvet couch. Following your initial conversation with Hyunjin about this job, he consistently evaded any further questions you asked until you eventually gave up. You always assumed he found the subject boring, much like you did when forced to talk about your own job.
You knew his job as a host meant pampering women, making them feel wanted and tending to their every need throughout the night. It seems your brain conveniently failed to remember that it also implied having sex with them.
“I only fuck them if they’re willing to pay, and I’m expensive.”
You feel a shudder run through your body as those words ring inside your mind. That’s what extra fees meant.
Hyunjin led Naeun up those stairs. It doesn’t take much imagination to know what they were doing at that exact moment.
Minho locks the door behind you, and his strong arms circle your waist, drawing you closer to his body. His gaze drops to your lips, and a smile spreads across his face.
“Is this okay?” His voice is gentle, with no pressure lingering in his words. You know you could say no, go back home, and wallow in your self-pity for the rest of the night.
But you don’t want to do that.
Because you know Hyunjin is currently fucking your friend. And, despite the rational side of your brain screaming that this is his job, it does little to extinguish the searing fire of jealousy that burns under your skin.
So, you allow yourself to fall into bed with Minho.
His touches are almost feather-light, his kisses gentle, and his movements deliberate as he fucks into you.
It feels good, but it’s not what you’re used to.
It’s not Hyunjin.
Hyunjin returned home as soon as he possibly could after his shift.
Any anger was dampened by the sadness and shame he felt because you had to see him at the club. It’s his job, but it’s a job he never truly loved. He feels vulnerable and powerless as a host, a stark contrast to what he feels when camming.
Taeyeon personally scouted him from his livestream. He was twenty and already making enough money to provide for himself. He didn’t need a new job, but the allure of the validation he knew it would provide him was enticing. Compliments and adoration fueled Hyunjin throughout his entire life. He knew it was a bit pathetic, but that was how he was taught to be.
During his training period, Taeyeon and the older hosts instructed him. They taught him how to erase his true self to fit into what would most appeal to clients. That was easy for Hyunjin. He’d already been doing that for most of his life.
He wasn’t tricked into anything. He was given a meticulous explanation of every minute detail of the job and was allowed to set hard limits for anything he wasn’t comfortable doing. Taeyeon treated the hosts like her family, like older and younger brothers she cared for. She provided apartments for those who came into the job with nothing, paid off student debts, and was always willing to listen to their problems.
She would be the perfect boss if not for her love of money.
Every host receives only 5% of any money they make for the club. Hyunjin, as the highest-paid host at The Siren, only makes around $100 per weekend — if he’s lucky enough to have clients booking him for extra services every night.
He knows he’s being exploited but can’t bring himself to quit.
When he first discovered the ranking system at the club, he turned to smoking because of pressure. Naturally, he started at the lowest tier but needed to climb as fast as possible. He was determined to do whatever it took to reach that number one spot. He bleached his hair, splashed out on clothes he didn’t like, and even took up groups of clients per night. Hyunjin had always found comfort in sex. He had complete control of the situation and the satisfaction of knowing he was the reason someone felt good was just another form of validation, like he was loved for as long as the sex lasted.
Sex at the club was never like that. It was a chore, something he did because he had to. It wasn’t anything like camming, and it wasn’t like having sex with someone he actually cared about.
It wasn’t anything like having sex with you.
Seeing you that night only made it harder for him to drag himself up those stairs and do what was expected of him.
Hyunjin got home that night and fell asleep on the couch. He couldn’t be bothered to do anything, especially shower, as the thought of facing his reflection in the mirror was unbearable. Different emotions swirled inside him like a tornado until they ultimately consumed him before he finally dozed off.
He thought he could trust you, thought you knew him well enough to understand why he wanted to keep this part of himself hidden from you. The night he first told you about this job, he put on a mask — like he always did — and put on his best act, playing up his arrogance despite how scared he felt. When you told him that same night he wasn’t anything worth falling for, and that you could be together only until you found something better, he felt as if his heart had shattered for the first time in his life.
That was the night he realized a mask couldn’t protect him from everything. Especially his own heart.
It wasn’t intentional — liking you this much hasn’t been exactly enjoyable. It simply happened. Because you were the only one who ever chipped away at his impenetrable wall and saw the closest thing to the real Hyunjin, yet still chose to stay.
You hadn’t stayed because of his looks; you two never cared about impressing each other.
You hadn’t stayed solely for the sex; you two often got together simply to enjoy each other’s company.
Hyunjin couldn’t be blamed for assuming you had stayed because you knew him. Not the mask he wore or the persona he showed to the world — the real him.
But tonight, even among all the designer clothes and expensive drinks, he felt as if you had just witnessed him at his lowest. And he could only hope you still chose to stay after that.
You’ve barely been awake for an hour when a knock echoes through your apartment. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, because there’s only one person who could be at the other side of the door.
After your jealousy-clouded brain made the asinine decision to sleep with Minho, you’ve locked away any and every thought into a pretty little box inside your mind. You didn’t want to think about what you had done because you knew the remorse would slowly erode your mind. You certainly didn’t want to think about Hyunjin, as even the faint memory of his eyes from the previous night would dig at your heart until it shattered.
But there was nowhere you could hide outside of your mind.
Hyunjin is quiet as you open the door, and he remains quiet as you two sit together on your couch. Your tea sits forgotten on your coffee table, and you focus on the swirls of steam rising from your mug as you endure his silence.
You force yourself to speak when your tea finally goes cold.
“I’m sorry,” you simply say.
Hyunjin’s hands tug at the sleeves of his sweater, and he sucks in a shuddering breath. “Why did you come to the club without telling me?”
“I was angry at you,” You bite your lip, knowing your reasoning is ridiculous. “Because of the date…” you trail off, and Hyunjin turns to face you, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since he walked into your apartment.
“So you thought coming to my work would be a good idea?”
You shrug, instinctively looking away as you feel the intensity of his eyes on you. It was just like when you first met him, only it made you ashamed instead of flustered. You missed that initial lightness, but you knew that was long gone now. Sorting out your issues with Hyunjin was necessary if you ever hoped to have a healthy relationship. If every conversation turned into an argument that would only be avoided through sex, there was no point in dragging this on.
“I wasn’t thinking,” is all you can say.
Hyunjin scoffs. “That was kinda obvious.”
The biting tone in his voice makes you rise to your feet, shaking your head. You put as much distance between you and him as possible.
“What? You wanted me to be rational when I thought you were just playing with me?” You throw your hands up as you blurted out, exasperation consuming any remaining trace of pride within you. “When I thought you were having fun acting jealous and proposing dates only to come up with shitty excuses to shut it all down?”
“Playing with you?” Hyunjin mirrors your words, eyes narrowing as he closes the distance you had created. “I thought you knew me enough to know I mean it when I say something. I wanted to go on that date with you, and I was fucking jealous. That night you forced me to listen to you fuck another guy made me wanna punch my fucking wall.”
You open your lips, but no words come out.
You’re embarrassed. Going to The Siren wasn’t the first childish thing you had done out of spite because of Hyunjin. But your anger was never directed at him. It was always you; for allowing yourself to become so attached to him and like him so much that it drove you mad.
Going on that date simply to rile Hyunjin up, showing up at his job because you felt entitled to when your mind insisted you had been wronged — that was all you and your stupid mind being incapable of accepting the fact that you have fallen for the guy you swore would never be of any significance to you.
The guy you so proudly declared unworthy of falling for.
“Are you really not gonna say anything?” Hyunjin lets out a weak laugh, and when your eyes meet again, his expression leaves no room for doubt this time. Sadness swims freely in his eyes while they well up with tears that he vigorously fights to hold back. “I thought you knew me,” he reiterates. “Thought you stayed because you knew…” He trails off, shaking his head.
As he turns to leave, you instinctively reach out for him. After nine months of knowing each other, you hold his hand for the first time.
“I do know you, Hyunjin,” you blurt out, squeezing his hand when he refuses to look at you. “I stayed because I know you. Beyond your rankings, beyond that club, beyond this damn wall you built around yourself. At least a little bit, I know you.”
He takes a deep breath before his eyes lock on yours again. “I feel like you’ve been tearing down brick by brick of my wall.” He’s the one to squeeze your hand this time. “I kinda fucking hate that.”
You attempt to stifle a chuckle, but it escapes your lips nonetheless. Hyunjin smiles.
“I’d love to know you even more, beyond this mask you wear all the time,” you confess. And you’re tired of hiding behind your own mask, so you tell him, “It’s tiring feeling like I only know half of who you truly are when I already like you so fucking much as it is.”
Hyunjin’s eyes widen, surprise eclipsing any trace of his initial sadness.
“What? You like me?” He sputters, and you bite your lips as a smile spreads on your lips.
You cannot believe this is the same Hyunjin whose ego made you want to punch his face.
“Well, no shit,” you chuckle. “Why do you think I put up with you for so long? Don’t you think if I was looking for something better, I would’ve found it already?”
Hyunjin’s lips crash into yours before you can say anything else, his fingertips barely brushing against your skin as he cupped your face.
Your lips part for him, and a low hum resonates from his chest. You wrap your free arm around his shoulder, your hands still tightly intertwined, and pull him closer to you. It’s an awkward position, but neither of you is willing to unclasp your hands.
Hyunjin’s tongue glides languidly into your open lips, making you clutch at his arm as your mind goes dizzy. You had never kissed like this — always too impatient and lust-drunk to savor the feeling of each other’s lips properly.
It sends your entire body ablaze.
He’s pulling away far too soon, tugging at your bottom lip with a small smile.
“I’m not something better, but I’m gonna be,” he mutters against your lips. “For you.”
But you shake your head. “Just let me in. You’re already more than enough.”
In order for your efforts to work, you and Hyunjin established three crucial rules: absolute honesty, open communication, and no fucking until significant progress is made.
You start slowly, with that unfulfilled date that had been the catalyst for you two finally confronting your feelings.
Hyunjin was nervous. The few times he’s gone on dates, his mind was set on wrapping it up as soon as possible to take the person home. It didn’t matter where they went or what they did; every date inevitably led to his bed.
This time was different.
You certainly weren’t expecting to have a picnic on a Saturday afternoon. Your surprise was evident as your eyes widened at the sight before you: Hyunjin, standing at your door with a picnic basket and a digital camera slung around his neck. When you jokingly commented on how that was the most un-Hyunjin thing you had ever seen him do, he nonchalantly shrugged.
As you two sat together under a tree, however, he told you he’s always loved picnics. Growing up near a park, picnics became a family tradition that started when he was just a kid and still happens whenever he visits his parents. The silly smile that was etched onto your lips lingered throughout the entire day. Hyunjin’s closed-off nature made that small piece of information feel like a precious gem you had just collected. It was far greater than any of the pointless conversations you two had in the last nine months.
It felt like watching another brick from his once towering wall shatter to the ground.
Hyunjin quit his job at the club a month after your first date.
He didn’t elaborate on it at first, simply telling you it felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. You had now learned it was best to give him space, as his tendency to shut himself off only worsened if he felt pressured. Deep inside, Hyunjin yearned to share every little detail about himself with you and hear your own stories in return. However, years of keeping everyone at a comfortable distance hindered his ability to open up without feeling vulnerable.
So you only pulled him into a hug, running your hands through his hair as he let out a heavy sigh. You two then set off for your date at a bakery close to your apartments, with the subject seemingly forgotten.
Until Hyunjin suddenly told you the entire truth under a lamppost in front of your building. He whispered that he didn’t want to go home yet, and you found yourselves sitting on the sidewalk as you listened to his story. You weren’t exactly shocked at the information dumped on you, but it still made your heart sore. He was taken advantage of because he longed to feel accepted, to feel loved.
During the elevator ride, you could tell Hyunjin was struggling to hold back tears with every ounce of his strength. You know he was eager to be alone when he pressed a weak kiss to your forehead before heading towards his door. So you reached out for his hand once more and pulled him toward your apartment despite his protests.
That night, Hyunjin struggled to suppress his tears until they ultimately overflowed out of his eyes and down his cheeks as you held him on the couch. Before you knew it, tears unwittingly streamed down your face as well. It was as if your emotions were a mirror image of his.
Another brick down.
You discover Hyunjin’s love for photography by accident.
Everywhere you went together, his camera was draped around his neck. At first, you paid little attention to that detail. His job consisted of being in front of a camera; it wouldn’t be outrageous to surmise he simply enjoyed documenting his daily life. You teased him about it one day as he stopped in front of a flower shop to snap yet another picture. He shrugged, casually telling you he’d been taking pictures since his teenage years, later majoring in photography before dropping out of university.
Unable to tame your nagging curiosity, you urged him to show you his pictures. Nestled deep inside his wardrobe were several boxes filled with photographs he had taken over the years. Most captured the simple beauty of ordinary places and simple things, like the pretty flowers he saw at the shop you walked past, but some showed people candidly laughing while immersed in the happiness of their daily lives in parks or museums.
He wore an unabashed grin on his lips when he opened another box, this one containing around ten developed pictures of you. Among the small pile of photos, one catches your eye: your smiling side profile beaming at a group of kids, a hand shielding your eyes from the sun. You turn the picture around, and the words “First date. I was so nervous, and she was so pretty” are scribbled in black sharpie. Hyunjin groaned beside you, telling you he just jotted down something stupid without much thought. It made you smile like a kid.
“Don’t worry,” he said with a weak chuckle, “I never show them to anybody. None of them are really good, anyway.”
You furrowed your brows at his words, studying his face for any hint of sarcasm. His pictures were beautiful, perfectly depicting how happiness and mundanity often blended into one unbeknownst to people. But Hyunjin noticed, with his camera always ready at the right time for the perfect shot, even with things as small as a snapshot of your first date.
“They’re amazing, Hyunjin,” you told him matter-of-factly. “This is the kind of thing you’d find in art galleries. I can’t believe you keep this talent hidden.”
He shrugs your words off at first, taking a photo in his hand and studying it for a few seconds. His lips curve into a small smile, shyly at first, until his face is beaming as he looks down at his work. You can’t help but smile along, noticing how his cheeks blushed for the first time since you met him.
Another brick down.
In two months, you and Hyunjin went from meeting only at your apartments to going on weekly dates and from pointless bickering to actually understanding each other. The more he opened up, the more you found yourself being vulnerable around him as well.
You learned Hyunjin’s confidence was truthfully a part of him; he simply played it up to a maddening degree to protect himself. He is a confident man, but he’s certainly not the egotistical idiot you once believed him to be.
Your suspicions about him secretly being a softie were also confirmed as you witnessed him cry nearly every time you watched the romance movies he sheepishly confessed to loving. At first, he would sniffle, rubbing his eyes and clearing his throat, before excusing himself to the bathroom. A few movies later, he allowed himself to openly cry in front of you for the second time. He’s proven to be a certified crier since then, often laying his head on your chest and silently shedding tears while you played with his hair.
At the end of the day, Hyunjin was a flawed, complex person like any other. He wasn’t always soft and sensitive, but he wasn’t only a cocky and smug little shit, either.
You found you loved both sides of him equally.
Your rules proved to be exactly what you needed, as you only felt closer to Hyunjin each passing day.
But a particular rule became your number one enemy after a month.
Your pent-up sexual frustration seemed to escalate with each passing day, fueling an increasing desire to just say fuck it and climb on top of Hyunjin. It certainly didn’t help that he was even clingier now, long limbs always tangling with yours when you lay on the couch, or his warm body pressing against you while you were cooking. Not to mention that you listened to him livestream every weekend. You opted to wait in his living room — because watching him would just be masochistic — but it felt like you had been transported back in time. Sitting alone for hours and listening to him moan was still as torturous as the first time it had happened. Even if you touched yourself to the sound of his voice, it was never enough.
You knew what you needed, but you have been essentially blueballing yourself for a month now.
As you two lie on your bed, watching another sappy romance movie, you can feel the heat rising inside your body, like a thermometer reaching its peak. You were fully expecting Hyunjin to cry, but this movie turned out to be far more erotic than romantic. His persistent need to have his lips on you — be it with a kiss or with lazy nibbles on your neck — also certainly doesn’t help your suffering.
You power through as you watch the love interests making out while Hyunjin lightly presses his lips to your neck, his body all but caging you against your bed. But the moment the couple heads to the bedroom, hastily undressing each other with heavy pants and sighs, you absentmindedly part your legs. Hyunjin is hovering above you before you can make sense of what’s happening, your laptop carelessly thrown to the side. His body pressed against yours, fitting perfectly between your thighs, as his darkening eyes bore into you.
“Hyunjin,” you have half a mind to say, “Our rule.”
He simply nods, and goosebumps ripple across your body when you feel his hardening member brush against you.
“We made progress,” he states with a grin. “You even let me into your room now.”
“It’s not enough to justify fucking again.”
As much as you were desperate for it.
He swallows slowly, nodding and bending his face to yours. “But our rule says no fucking,” he reasons. “If I make love to you, then it won’t even count.”
“Love?” You whisper, and the thermometer shatters as he presses a long kiss to your open lips.
“Yeah,” Hyunjin smiles between kisses, brushing his lips against yours. “Love.”
It’s not a clear confession, not a beautiful I love you whispered between kisses — but you know Hyunjin, and the sincerity in his voice says everything.
Your fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt as you pull him even closer to you, and he promptly presses his mouth against yours, his tongue teasingly gliding across your bottom lip. Each roll of your hips ignites the heat within you like scorching lava, your desire swallowing you entirely after so long of craving this.
His tongue presses against yours, effortlessly taking control of the kiss, capturing your bottom lip with his teeth before releasing it and traveling toward your jaw. He sucks the sensitive skin into his mouth with a hum, drawing out a whimper from your lips while he moves down the column of your neck. Smiling against your collarbone, Hyunjin alternates between harsh nibbles and soft kisses, leaving blooming rosy spots on every inch of your skin. He travels toward your chest, his hands slipping under your shirt and brushing your skin before tugging off the fabric.
Hyunjin’s hands cup your breasts, your nipples tightening under his attention, and his lips move down your body, placing kisses from your chest to your stomach. His hand eagerly kneads the soft skin of your chest while the other pinches your nipple, rolling the sensitive nub between his fingertips.
“I missed this,” he whispers, voice muffled against your skin, and you let out a shaky breath as a response when his fingers toy with the waistband of your sweatpants. “That was a stupid rule.”
“Shut up.” You let out a breathy laugh. “It was a great rule, it helped us make progress.”
“Fuck progress,” Hyunjin groans, tugging your sweatpants off.
He wastes no time hoisting your legs over his shoulders, causing you to shudder and goosebumps to ripple through your body when his lips close around your clit without warning. His tongue licks long stripes up the length of your slit, his fingers spreading you open so he can lap at your arousal with a low hum. Hyunjin’s thumb rubs circles around your clit as his lips find your inner thighs, sucking and biting at the skin, leaving another blushing trail of his yearning for you.
His tongue delves into your wetness, savoring you with tantalizing, pleasure-filled groans that travel through your cunt. The insistent throb between your thighs intensifies, your hand tugging at his hair and your hips rolling into his touch as you arch your back. Hyunjin’s fingers dig into the skin of your thighs while you reach your peak, his teeth pulling your clit gently as you come with a broken cry.
Your cheeks are flushed, and your eyes are heavy with lust when he looks at you, his firm grip keeping your legs over his shoulders.
“You still think that rule was great?” Hyunjin gives you a lopsided grin that almost has you rolling your eyes, only he presses one last kiss to your sensitive clit, rending you unable to do anything but mewl and tug at his hair. He chuckles, pressing his lips to your inner thighs once more, his eyes still locked onto yours.
You needed him closer, his strong arms surrounding you and his scent enveloping your senses until you felt dizzy. The mere thought of his cock has you clenching, arousal trickling down your slit, and you tug at his hair harshly with a whine.
Hyunjin climbs over you again, tugging his shirt over his head in one fluid movement and crashing his lips into yours, the taste of your release swirling in your mouth as your tongues meet.
“You’re so fucking needy,” he chides. You simply hum, his thick length brushing against your core as he leans down to kiss you again.
“You’re one to talk,” you smirk, breaking the kiss and rolling your hips up into his erection. Hyunjin scoffs, his hands capturing your wrists and pinning them over your head, his eyes darkening as he looms over you.
There’s no more push and pull between you two during your daily lives, but it’s something you hope never fades away during sex. You’re sure Hyunjin’s need to have control, coupled with your taste for riling him up, will make sure that never happens.
But Hyunjin has no intentions of making you beg tonight — not after so many weeks of making himself cum to the thought of your pretty cunt, knowing that damn rule kept him from actually having you.
He tugs his sweatpants out of his way, one hand still pinning your wrists to the mattress. You bite your lip at the sight of his cock hanging heavily, tantalizingly close to your sopping cunt. Hyunjin strokes himself hastily, clearly having grown impatient, precum dribbling from the ruddy head of his cock and easing the glide of his fist.
The swollen tip slides against your wetness, and he lets out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead to yours. The delicious stretch as he presses inside has your hands instinctively reaching out to him. But his grip on your wrists only tightens, keeping them in place as he leans into you, stretching you further with a hiss.
“Fuck, I missed being buried in your cunt,” Hyunjin mumbles, and you moan as his teeth nip at your earlobe. “Always so tight, like you were made for me.”
He sheaths himself inside of you completely, and you arch your back with a groan as his cock twitches inside your sensitive spot.
“Made just for you,” you choke out as Hyunjin slowly thrusts into you, agonizingly slow and deliberate movements making you dig your nails into your palms. “Hyunjin,” his name dissipates into a whine as he pushes his cock in and out of you languidly.
He chuckles against the shell of your ear, and you wrap your legs around his torso, rolling your hips faster against him. The drawn-out moan that escapes his lips has your cunt clenching and leaking more arousal around his length.
“D’you still like the sound of my voice that much?” He hums, and you nod with a sigh. His slender fingers wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly. “Yeah? Like it when I moan in your ear?”
He finally picks up the pace, pulling back before snapping his hips forward. His lips swallow your moans as he kisses you once, his hand finally releasing your wrists and digging into your hips as he pumps his cock into you. He leaves a trail of wet kisses along your sweaty skin, tracing his tongue along the marks he left earlier.
“You’re mine,” he groans against your skin. “Been dying to say this for so fucking long.”
You gasp at his words, your body jerking when he slips his hand down to circle around your swollen clit. “‘M yours,” you whine, “Fuck me like I’m yours. Please—”
Hyunjin groans, your words igniting a fire within him, and his hips fall into a ruthless pace, pistoning his cock into you while his fingertips expertly stroke your clit. The hot coil of desire in your stomach tightens, finally breaking as your climax surges through every fiber of your being, a million stars bursting behind your eyelids.
“Fuck, you always feel so good,” Hyunjin rasps out, his movements shifting into a messy tempo. “Gonna fill you up, okay?”
You nod with a whimper, your overstimulated cunt clenching around his cock as his thrusts remain unrelenting. With a low grunt that ripples through his chest, Hyunjin’s hips slam into yours, his cock twitching and his grip on your throat tightening. He paints your insides with a final testament that you were his.
He stills on top of you, pressing featherlight kisses to your cheeks and lips, his cock softening inside of you as you stay that way for a while. When he pulls out, his fingers promptly smear his cum over your cunt as it leaks out, two digits thrusting his release back into you with a contented hum.
“Can we still fuck now that I found something better?” You ask him with a grin, and he laughs, burying his head in your neck.
Your mind is wholly clouded with bliss — both from your orgasm and the feeling of love that courses through your veins. You inwardly laugh. Hyunjin fucking you in your bedroom had definitely not tainted it. He had basically transformed your bed into a sanctuary.
Hyunjin helps you shower, gentle hands wash and caress your body before coaxing your third orgasm out of you under the soothing cascading water. He makes you a cup of your favorite tea the way you love it — which he made sure to memorize — and insists you two finish watching the forgotten movie before going to bed. It feels awfully domestic, and it would be a lie to say you hated it.
That night, you fall asleep beside Hyunjin in your bed for the first time; inside a little sacred space you are slowly building with him.
It was never your intention to be his. You were certain Hyunjin was the type of man who would never allow himself to be vulnerable, to truly fall in love with someone without his ego getting in the way. By keeping him at arm’s length, you believed you were guarding yourself from inevitable heartache.
Behind his cocky smirks and self-assured words, an amazing man hid himself out of deep-seated fears of rejection, unworthiness, and not being loved for his true self. Each day, he allowed glimpses of himself to shine through the cracks in his fortress. He became an enigma you were dying to unravel because you knew he was worth it.
Because you knew him.
And unbeknownst to you, Hyunjin has been yours all along. From the moment you walked into his apartment with a scowl and frustration-filled words, it was as if his heart became wired to crave you. He was simply hoping and waiting for you to become his as well.
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