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mypoisonedvine · 4 months

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𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 | angus tully x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | visiting home for the holidays, Angus runs into his old babysitter... or perhaps more importantly, his first real crush. the older, unattainable girl next door; the one that made him realize maybe cooties aren't all that bad. now he's older, too, and maybe you aren't quite as unattainable-- so long as he can play it cool and not make a complete idiot out of himself...

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ only!!), age gap (not huge but angus is 18 and the reader is just out of college), semi-public/car sex, drug use (watch out for the devil's lettuce y'all!!) as well as brief cigarette use, inexperienced/virgin angus, no spoilers for the holdovers (2023) nor any significant relationship to the plot of it lol

technically this is a christmas fic so if you noticed that I'm posting it in january, no you didn't and mind your business <3

The sky was pitch black, and the world was dark— even with all those Christmas lights, their colorful glow seemed to be absorbed so quickly in the gloom of the evening.

The white snow served as a nice contrast, but it did look sort of grey in all the shadows, even as it was freshly falling to cover the ground. The snowflakes fell fast, they looked almost heavy: not that cute, fluffy snow that looks all whimsical and floats on the wind.

It was the sort of weather that should’ve made him appreciate being safe and warm inside, but as he pressed his nose to the cold glass, he wished rather ungratefully for escape.

The doorbell stirred him out of the moment, and Angus looked back over his shoulder towards the foyer. “Honey! Can you get that?” his mother called out to him from the kitchen. She made herself seem so busy when he knew she hadn’t really cooked at all— she was just arranging everything she’d bought on fancy plates to look homemade. The crinkle of tinfoil gave away that she was too busy disposing of the evidence to greet her guests herself. She was lucky all the ones who had already arrived were too busy drinking in the living room to notice.

Rolling his eyes a bit, he propelled himself off of his lean on the wall, stuffing one hand in his khaki pocket and the other opening the front door.

Your parents were always really… energetic. They greeted Angus with massive smiles and ecstatic faces, as if they could hardly believe he was letting them in to his own house. To be fair, he wasn’t here most of the year, but it wasn’t like he was a celebrity or anything…

“Angus!” your mom squealed joyfully.

“Hey, buddy!” your dad greeted, forcing Angus to fight back a cringe.

“Nice to see you,” he offered them, “come on in, the food’s almost ready.”

Your mom was preoccupied with the casserole dish she was holding, but your dad’s hands were free so he of course had to give Angus a playful punch to the shoulder as he stepped inside. “Wo-hoah! You been workin’ out?” your dad joked— as if Angus’ noodly arm in a red cashmere sweater was ever going to fool anyone into thinking he lifted weights…

As he turned to shut the door, he realized you were standing there, taking one last puff of a cigarette before dropping it on the ground and snuffing it out with your shoe.

He hadn’t known you were coming over— if he had, he would’ve… done something. Fixed his hair or not worn something so dorky, maybe?

“H-hey,” he greeted you, feeling pierced by even just your passing glance up at him.

“Hey, kid,” you nodded, making him frown as you walked in past him.

Your parents and his mom were already chatting up a storm, that sort of high-pitched suburban babble he’d learned to tune out easily. In fact, it really just muffled into a distant whirr as he watched you slip off your coat, revealing your outfit beneath. He always remembered you wearing jeans when you came over to babysit— and dresses at church. So the skirt and blazer sort of caught him off-guard. It made you seem even older— in a good way, like you were a businesswoman or something— and the seam of your stockings running down the back of your legs… his head tilted as his eyes followed it

“Well shut the door, Angus, you’re letting the cold air in!” his mother scolded gently, knocking him out of the thought.

“O-oh, sorry,” he mumbled, shutting it as you looked back at him over your shoulder and smiled a bit. He felt like such a loser when you looked at him like that…

“Let me make you two some drinks! What are you having?”

He wasn’t listening again, of course; he was staring at you again, wondering if you hadn’t changed at all— you were exactly how he remembered you, even though it was probably impossible that you looked the same as his 17-year-old babysitter as you did now. He hoped that he looked totally different to you, that you were thinking to yourself right now how much more mature he looked. He hoped that you could barely believe he was the same boy you watched when he was younger— or, better yet, that you’d just totally forgotten about all that.

“Would you help set the table, please, honey?” his mother requested as she zipped back into the kitchen. He nodded and hesitated before quickly brushing past you to get the silverware out of the cabinet by the table, placing a setting in front of each chair. She reappeared behind him, but he didn’t look up— not at her or you, even though you were the one she was talking to. “I’m sorry, sweetie, I forgot to ask— did you want a glass of wine or something?”

“No, I’m alright— thanks, ma’am,” you replied. “I’ll help with the silverware.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” she cooed at you before departing again, and Angus felt his hands get a little clammier around the handful of utensils as you reached out for them.

“Give me some,” you instructed him, and he only briefly glanced at your face; he tried to hand you the forks without touching your fingers, but all that accomplished was dropping some of them loudly onto the table while still brushing up against your soft hand. You snorted, picking them up and starting to set them around the placemats as well.

He tried to ignore you, both of you working around the table, but he sighed as he took a closer look at your work. “No the— that’s a salad fork,” he corrected, “that should go inside.”

“What?”

“The smaller fork goes on the other side, closest to the plate,” he explained, switching the utensils you’d just placed. “Dessert spoon goes at the top, butter knife on the left—”

You scoffed a bit. “And where should I put the opium spoon?”

“Listen, I know it’s stupid,” he assured as he looked at your face again— you were so close, standing right beside him, and his heart was racing. “But my stepdad will blow a gasket if it’s wrong,” he added in a lower voice.

“He sounds like a tool,” you mumbled back, and the two of you smiled a bit, in that way people smile when they share a secret. Not that his stepdad being a tool was all that exclusive of a secret…

“Alright!” his mom emerged again, carrying some ceramic dish with oven mitts, and you both straightened up. “Food’s coming out! Oh, are the Shaws not here yet?”

Your dad was carrying the platter of ham, and your mom behind him with another side. “I, uh, guess not,” Angus answered her question.

“Well, we’ll have to start eating without them,” she sighed, wiping her forehead with the back of her head as the dishes were set down— like she was so exhausted. She probably was, but not from cooking or physical labor: just from the constant anxiety she’d been exuding for the last three days because of this stupid dinner party. She acted like the President or the Pope were coming, and not just a bunch of boring old people.

And you. She’d never mentioned you.

As she gathered the guests for dinner, Angus looked at you, and realized he should say something— be polite, at least. He was terrified to open his mouth and embarrass himself, but if he didn’t try, he’d seem like even more of a loser.

Quickly rubbing his palms against his trousers, he broke the silence. “So, um, how’ve you been?” he asked, and you looked back at him, seeming a little surprised that he talked to you at all.

“Oh,” you responded, “good, I’ve been good— just kinda busy. What have you been doing?”

“You know, just… whatever,” he shrugged, not wanting to admit he was still in high school.

“Aren’t you still in high school?” you questioned with a furrowed brow.

Shit. That illusion didn’t last long. “Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly, “but I’m eighteen!”

You gave him a little pitying smile that made him realize too late how pathetic his statement was. Bragging about being eighteen wasn’t doing him any favors in terms of coming off as mature to you— why did he think that would work?

“U-uh, you… you’re in college, right?”

“Well— I was, until about a week ago,” you answered. “I graduated a semester early.”

“Oh, congrats,” he offered with a nod, “that’s great. You’ve always been really smart…”

“Well, it didn’t take a genius to help you with your seventh grade math homework,” you deflected his compliment with a tilted smirk, and he laughed nervously.

“I, um, can’t believe you remember that,” he mumbled.

“Of course,” you said, and just as he started to wonder what that meant, his stepdad spoke up over the dull roar of conversation.

“Alright, everyone, take your seats around the table,” he encouraged, “and we’ll all pray before we enjoy this lovely meal.”

Aside from the late arrival of the Shaws, dinner went off without a hitch— Angus fielded the same four questions on repeat, glanced at you every thirty seconds, and only got caught about a dozen times.

The only thing more boring than the dinner was the time afterwards, the indefinite mingling phase. He usually just counted the minutes until he could get excused to his room, where he could read or sketch or really do anything quiet. But now that you were here, he wasn’t as sure what to do: he wanted to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem too excited to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem like an asshole or anything…

So he pretty much just sat on a couch, as far away from the bustle of the party as he could reasonably get away with, trying to look busy while not actually doing anything. Occasionally looking at you, but usually trying not to— until he realized you were coming towards him. Now was it okay to look at you?

He tried to act like he didn’t even notice you coming closer until you sat next to him on the couch; you were a little close, sitting on your side and putting one of your arms up on the back of the sofa cushions like you were trapping him in. He put his legs together so they wouldn’t bump into your knees which were dangerously close to him now.

“You look bored,” you noticed.

“Yeah? I wonder why,” he replied with a small smirk.

“You didn’t really tell me how you’ve been,” you remembered. “What’s boarding school like?”

“Uh, you know, pretty much your average hellhole,” he joked— not that it wasn’t at least mostly true. “Not that living at home would be all that much better.”

“You Barton boys get into any trouble up there?” you asked, and he shrugged a bit.

“Some,” he said. “If you’re not an idiot, you can mostly avoid getting caught for anything.”

“Like what?” you pressed. “Do kids ever get busted with pot?”

“Oh, all the time,” he laughed. “It’s really not hard to get away with it, honestly. I mean, I never got caught, so…”

You raised an eyebrow. “You smoke?”

He loved the way you said it, not quite under your breath but a secretive mumble. He just shrugged again, and you laughed a little. “What?” he wondered.

“You just don’t seem the type,” you explained.

“You don’t know me that well,” he countered, lowering his voice, hoping you would pick up on the undertone. But if you did, you didn’t quite respond to it.

“Well, are you the type to sneak out of this boring dinner and go smoke?” you wondered. He thought you looked really sexy asking him a question like that, eyes lighting up as you suggested something that risky.

He grinned excitedly. “Right now?”

“You’re not scared to get caught, are you?” you challenged.

“Fuck no,” he laughed, “let’s do it.”

“Where are we gonna go?” he wondered aloud, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.

“My car,” you explained, having to talk a little louder to be heard over the wind. “I’m parked down the street— by the park, so nobody’s gonna notice us.”

You trudged through the snow together, each step a deep crunch into the frozen snow, and you squinted your eyes when a sharp, icy wind struck right in your face.

You picked up the pace a bit when you saw your car, excited to escape the freezing cold; and as you turned the key in the driver’s door, unlocking the rest, Angus came up beside you.

“Get in on the other side,” you told him, and he walked around the back as you got in yourself.

When you first got in the car, you could still see your breath in the air— but it was still a nice reprieve from the wind outside, and you unzipped your coat and tossed it into the passenger seat in front of you. Angus hopped in a moment later, and when he shut his door, you were both submerged suddenly into the quietest place you’d been all night. No wind, no dinner guests, no records playing— just each other’s breathing.

You considered turning the heat on, but you figured the chill would pass soon enough with Angus’ and your own body heat filling the space.

You clicked on the ceiling light, a dim yellow glow illuminating the inside of the car and really bringing out the dinginess of the grey-beige carpet and fabric all over everything. He simply sat on the seat, waiting patiently with his legs spread a bit and his hands on his knees, blowing out a breath through his cheeks which swelled with air; he watched you lean back and open the front console, bending somewhat awkwardly over it to reach in and rifle around.

“There we go,” you mumbled as your hand found the fabric bag underneath loose bills and receipts; you pulled it out and opened the drawstring, revealing with a proud smile the baggy inside. “Ta-da!” you announced softly, brandishing the crushed leaf and rolling papers. “Wanna show me your joint-rolling skills?”

You held the bag towards him in offering, but he shook his head and seemed to shrink away slightly. “N-no, I’ll let you do the honors,” he decided in a soft voice.

You rubbed your hands together to try to warm them up first, because the detailed task was trickier with cold fingers, but you managed alright in the end. His eyes were glued to the way your tongue slid along the paper before sealing it; it did intrigue you just a bit, wondering what he was imagining while you did that.

“Were you always a bad girl, and I just didn’t know it?” he asked. “Or did college make you more rebellious?”

“A bad girl, huh?” you snorted, and his face flushed a bit.

“That didn’t sound weird in my head,” he promised.

“Save it for when you can blame it on the flower, dude,” you laughed as you handed him the blunt and got your lighter ready. “You can have the first hit, I’ll light it up for you.”

He put it between his lips as you struck the BIC, and he leaned forward until the end was in the flames.

You watched him breathe it in, that singe-y, crispy sound of the weed burning with each inhale making you smile a bit in anticipation… though you had to admit, it wasn’t just your excitement to get high that had your heart beating faster.

He only managed to hold it in for a second before coughing roughly, clearly trying to suppress it at first before bringing his fist to his mouth and really hacking a few times. You smacked him on the back with a grin, and he nodded at you; poor thing, his eyes were all red, actually his whole face was red, but he eventually recovered.

“You don’t really smoke, do you?” you noticed with a tilted smile.

He cleared his throat and shook his head. “N-not really, no,” he admitted. “I mean, I’ve tried it before, I swear—”

“It’s fine,” you assured, “I just don’t want you losing a lung.”

“Let me try again,” he pleaded, reaching for the blunt, but you held it away from him and laughed.

“I’ve got a better idea, this might make it easier,” you offered, leaning in closer. He seemed to tense up a bit, like he wasn't sure what you were leaning in for, but he watched you with half-lidded eyes as you took a long drag.

You grabbed his jaw— not hard, but enough to make him open his mouth a bit— and exhaled the smoke into his face. He got the idea and breathed in deeply, staring right into your eyes.

“Better?” you asked.

“U-um, yeah,” he whispered, “I didn't cough that time…”

“Then we’ll just do it this way,” you decided, biting your lip a little when he shifted in the seat. You were having way too much fun with him, and you knew it was unfair, but how often do you get to tease somebody like this?

After a few more hits that way, you saw his eyes get a little glassier. You yourself were starting to feel it, and you smiled at him as you brought your mouth a bit closer to his for the next shared breath.

“How does it feel?” you asked him softly as you leaned back again— he chased you for a minute, like he wanted to stay close, but relaxed quickly.

“U-uh, kinda… floaty…” he mumbled. “Don’t you think my parents are gonna notice the smell when we go back in?”

“I’ve got perfume for that,” you explained.

“So I’m gonna smell, like… fruity?” he frowned, and you giggled.

“That’s what you think my perfume smells like?” you wondered.

“Yeah, not— not that I was, you know… sniffing you…” he trailed off, face getting pink again, and you laughed.

“I think you need another hit,” you decided, and he nodded in agreement. Inhaling deeply, you pulled him closer and breathed into his open mouth, looking back into his eyes through the thin veil of excess smoke.

After that, you leaned back against the door, basking for a moment in your own high. You watched the snow falling outside the window, letting your vision get a little blurry; the quietness of the moment didn’t seem awkward to you at all, it seemed peaceful, but apparently Angus was the more anxious type of smoker and felt the need to break the silence. “I always had the biggest crush on you,” he blurted out, and you sighed a bit, lips pressing into a pitying smile even though you didn’t look back at him. “I was kinda surprised you didn’t notice…”

“I did,” you mumbled.

“R-really?” he choked. “I, uh… I thought you just saw me as some little twerp.”

“I did,” you said again, smiling wider, and he laughed nervously.

“Oh,” he nodded as he looked away, “that’s… fair.”

He only let the silence linger for a second before interrupting it again.

“But I’ve grown up a lot, you know,” he reminded you. “I’m eighteen.”

“You mentioned that.”

“Right. Um,” he stalled, “but it’s not just that. I mean, I like to think I’m pretty… mature. At least, I am compared to the idiots at my school— but I probably still seem like a little kid to you. I can’t really compete with college guys…”

“Compete?” you repeated, tilting your head. “What are you competing for?”

“O-oh, I just meant like, um—” he stammered, and you scooted closer to him on the seat with a devious smile.

“What are you competing with those ‘college guys’ for, Angus?” you pressed again. “My attention?”

“Some… something like that, yeah,” he answered, speaking a little softer.

“Well, there’s not much competition here, is there?” you noticed, looking around the car. “It’s just you and me… we’re alone.”

He started to open his mouth to speak, but you reached up to drag one finger over his chest for a moment, and he only choked out a little gasp. “Yeah, I… guess that’s true,” he mumbled, going back and forth from watching your finger draw circles on his sweater to watching your face.

You wordlessly brought the joint to your lips again, seeing that it was about halfway gone already. You took a long, deep breath in, exhaling towards him without really pursing your lips, letting him come closer for his share this time. Except, finally, this time he didn’t stop. He just kept leaning in towards you until his lips brushed over yours and you shut your eyes.

His kiss was patient, almost too gentle, like he was holding back. You set the joint aside quickly in the ashtray and brought your hands up to his face, so you could kiss him a little harder and maybe encourage him somehow. It seemed to work; he got a little more ambitious, moving his lips against yours, sighing gently as you combed your fingers through his wild curls.

You heard the wind howl outside, whistling around the car, not that you really paid much attention to it. Instead, your attention was drawn to the way his hands were still sat in his lap; you smirked a little. What a polite boy.

“You can touch me, you know,” you whispered to him, never breaking away from his lips. One of your hands wrapped gingerly around one of his wrists, guiding it to your waist.

“Right, sorry,” he mumbled back, grabbing onto you with a touch more confidence. He even pulled you a little closer as you kissed him harder, your hands traveling up to his shoulders in return.

Other than needing some guidance on the auxiliary stuff, Angus was a good kisser. You were actually a little surprised when he slipped his tongue into your mouth, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise: it seemed like a good sign he wasn’t holding back anymore.

One of your legs hiked up over his, just something instinctive to keep him close, and his hand trailed down over your hip to caress that leg; it was a shame you needed tights for the weather, because you would’ve loved to feel his touch right on your skin. “These are cute,” he informed you in a mumble against your lips, quickly pinching and popping the elastic-y fabric back against your leg. You broke away to look down at his hand on your thigh, which he did as well.

“Really?” you asked sweetly, not sure you were pulling off the innocent vibe of the question.

“Yeah,” he nodded, meeting your gaze again, “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

You hummed and he kissed you again— and this time, as his hand slid back up to your waist, it took a route along the curve of your ass. You wouldn’t have minded at all if he got a nice handful of it, pulled you closer, gotten a little rougher with you… but obviously, he didn’t. It was still Angus, after all.

In fact, it took a few more minutes of kissing for him to even muster the courage to touch your chest through your sweater, but you both sighed a bit when he finally did. He groped at you a bit, but you didn’t care much for all the layers in between, so you sat up and perched yourself in his lap, breaking the kiss to shed your blazer and pull your sweater up over your bra. “O-oh,” he breathed as you did it, and you felt something tighten up inside you when he absent-mindedly bit his lip.

You sighed shakily, even though you didn’t know why you felt just a bit nervous— and you pulled your bra up, too, exposing yourself entirely to him.

He whispered your name; your pussy clenched again instantly.

He put his hands over you carefully, and you jumped slightly when those long fingers of his brushed over your skin— and he pulled back quickly in response. “Fuck, are my hands cold? I’m sorry,” he stammered nervously, but you just smiled back at him.

“It’s fine,” you promised, and he put his hands back on you with a long sigh.

“Wow,” he mumbled under his breath. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the wide-eyed, awe-filled stare that never left your tits as he carefully massaged them; he toyed with your nipples briefly before groping a bit more confidently, your hips shifting in his lap without you really meaning for them to.

Your smile fell, though, when he suddenly leaned forward and latched his mouth onto one of them. “O-oh, fuck,” you mumbled under your breath as he suckled— rather voraciously, really— and fluttered his eyes shut, his tongue running all over the skin in his mouth. You looked down at him for a minute, thinking he looked pretty cute doing that, but had to shut your eyes and lean your head back when he sucked even harder at you. “Fuck, Angus—”

“Does that feel good?” he asked quietly as he broke away; you bit your lip and nodded, and he moved to the other one as you leaned back even further, held up only by the front seats. He, of course, gladly leaned forward with you to stay close, and kept a hand on the breast no longer in his mouth.

You could’ve sworn you felt yourself get especially wet when his tongue swirled around your nipple, and through the high that clouded your brain (equally from the pot and the pleasure) you realized that you were about to fuck Angus Tully. You sort of couldn’t believe it, and yet the thought didn’t disgust or offend you as much as you thought it would. You figured you would at least feel a little more guilty, but… you didn’t. Not very much, at least. Certainly not enough to stop you.

You sat back up and moved your hips back a bit, making him stop what he was doing just to wonder what you were up to; he groaned a bit when you reached down between your own legs to try to open his belt. “O-oh, fuck,” he whispered, lifting his hips a bit as well to make it easier for you to reach. “We're really gonna—?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, finally getting his belt open and working on his button and fly next; you could feel his cock already through the fabric, and it flexed a bit against the back of your hand in anticipation.

He groaned a little when you reached into his boxers and wrapped your hand around his length.

“You're so hard,” you noticed with a little gasp, gripping him tighter as you tried to (carefully) pull his cock out of the khakis and plaid underwear.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “fuck, yeah… you're really, um— you're hot.”

You giggled a bit, glancing up at his nervous expression. “You're sweet,” you offered, but your mouth was agape when you finally got a glimpse of him. “You're… fuck, Angus, you're big…”

“Oh, uh, really?” he perked up, cock flexing against your palm.

Giving him a few lazy strokes as you nodded, you giggled when his hips started to buck up towards your touch. “Fuck, I want you,” you moaned softly, and his cock just flexed in your hand again.

“You— god, you can’t even imagine how long I’ve wanted you,” he assured, making you smile wide.

“I’m sure I can, but I’ll try not to,” you decided as you let go of him. He seemed disappointed until he realized why: reaching up under your skirt, you pulled your tights and panties down your thighs.

“What if somebody sees?” he wondered nervously.

“They’re all busy inside, nobody’s coming out here in this weather,” you assured. “I can turn the light off if you want though—”

“N-no,” he stopped you before you could keep reaching for the ceiling light. “No, I still wanna see.”

You laughed a little and kissed him again, quickly. “Me too,” you agreed as you lifted yourself up over his lap, guiding his cock’s head to your entrance.

He sighed a little as soon as it touched you, but that was nothing compared to the way he reacted when you lowered yourself and he slipped inside.

“Fuck,” you groaned deeply, loving the way he stretched you out— not painful, but just the right amount of challenge. The body high seemed to make everything a little extra tingly and soft, though you didn’t have a sober version of this experience to compare it to.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, “oh my god…”

You finally sank down completely into his lap, and he took hold of your waist with a little moan. “Fuck,” you said again, more of a whisper, your head falling back as you started to rock against him. “Oh, it’s so deep, Angus—”

He interrupted you with a sort of whine, like he couldn’t take hearing you talk like that… but that just made you want to do it more.

“So fucking good,” you praised with a sigh, feeling him press his forehead against your chest as he moaned quietly. “You feel so fucking good…”

He whimpered, grabbing on painfully-tight to your hips, until his head fell back and his Adam's apple bobbed with each noise he made.

A sharp, needy moan jumped out of his throat— and at the same time, you felt him pulse inside you. Your eyes went wide as he relaxed slightly under you. “Did you… just come?” you asked.

He was still panting, his face starting to flush red. “Um… yeah?” he replied breathlessly. “Sorry, I-I tried not to—”

“It’s okay,” you promised with a soft laugh, “are you— or, uh, were you a virgin?”

“Uh…” he stalled anxiously. “Yeah, I am— or was— sorry, I should’ve said something, but I thought you might—”

“It’s fine,” you assured, resting a hand on his chest to try to soothe him. “It’s cute, honestly. I don’t mind being your first.”

“I always wanted you to be,” he admitted. “I imagined it like this.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the car. “Like this?”

“Well, not exactly like this,” he laughed. “There was a lot more time involved, for one, and a bed. And whipped cream—”

“Okay, let’s not unpack all that right now,” you interjected, “we should get cleaned up and go back inside anyway…”

You tried to get off his lap, but he held you down by your hips (with more strength than you expected from him) and pleaded with you: “No, wait, not yet— I want you to come, too.”

“It’s okay, really, we need to go back before your parents notice you’re gone,” you insisted.

“No, they don’t care— please? Please just keep going? I’m still hard, I can—”

“Angus,” you interrupted, and he sighed a little because he knew already you weren’t going to be convinced. “You’ll get another chance to make me come, alright? We just have to get back inside now.”

He lit up instantly. “Really? So we can— we’ll do this again?”

“If you want,” you shrugged.

“Hmm, no thanks— I’ll just go back to being a horny loser,” he joked, making you snort. “Of course I wanna see you again. I can’t believe I have to do… anything else but that until then!”

“You’ll live,” you promised as you got up off of him— you both winced, but you mostly just focused on getting your panties and tights back up before anything, uh, spilled.

You pulled your bra and sweater down again, and figured out where your blazer ended up so you could slip it back on while Angus lifted his hips to be able to get himself back into the khakis.

Opening the console again, you put your paraphernalia back in and dug around for a glass bottle instead. “Hopefully this can cover up weed and sex,” you said as you spritzed yourself a couple times with the perfume, then got him once or twice for good measure.

“How am I supposed to hide this?” he asked with an annoyed groan, struggling to adjust his boner inside his trousers in a way that wasn’t obvious.

“Sorry, all I can help with is the smell,” you laughed, putting the perfume back and slipping your coat on. “You ready?”

“Yeah, guess so,” he sighed, “ready as I’ll ever be. W-wait— can I kiss you one more time first, before we go?”

You thought it was funny, and sweet, that he thought he had to ask. You nodded, and he pulled you into a kiss that was much more passionate than you expected. Not filthy or anything, but not as tired and slow as you expected after just coming. His hands held your head, and you had to really remind yourself not to get lost in it before your better judgment was overruled.

Pulling back slowly, you looked at him for a second and wondered if anyone had ever looked back at you quite like that before.

You leaned for the door handle, but just before you pulled it, a final thought popped into your mind. “Oh, I almost forgot— Merry Christmas, by the way,” you offered him with a smile.

“Yeah, no shit,” he laughed, almost sounding like he was in disbelief, “that’s about the merriest fucking Christmas I’ve ever had.”

[series masterlist here]

#angus tully x reader #angus tully smut #angus tully x you

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holybibly · 2 months

Text

𝔇𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔲𝔰 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩 | 𝔚𝔬𝔬𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: smut, Priests!AU

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 9,9k

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: It is said: "The best way to get forgiveness for sins is to repent." Priest Wooyoung will tell you how to do this.

𝔚𝔄ℜ𝔑ℑ𝔑𝔊: Priest!Wooyoung, Hierophilia, church sex, religion kink, dirty talk, masturbation, humiliation, blow jobs, rough oral, power play. spanking, fingering, orgasm delay, overstimulation, dom/sub and more.

𝔄/𝔑: And so it is that I have come to please you with something wicked. I don't know why I get so inspired, but I don't care. My opinion is that Priest Wooyoung is hot as hell, that's all. There will probably be another work released this weekend, but I won't tell you what it is. Of course, the unholy hours are available as usual. It's time to repent for the sins, bunnies, and, as the saying goes, Hell's empty, all demons outside.

You have never thought of yourself as a religious person, not under any circumstances whatsoever. You never knelt down in front of your bed, covered your eyes with trembling eyelids, and whispered softly, "Hail Mary," before you went to sleep in your cold and lonely bed.

Never asking God's mercy and forgiveness, you were as far from faith and piety as you could be. The last time you had been to church was years ago, when you came to communion with one of your distant relatives. The feeling was all too familiar, yet as alien as the shattered fragments of a mysterious dream you remembered having long ago. You walked slowly up the rain-slicked stone steps of your hometown's old church, as smooth and dreary as the weather today. The thin branches of the dead trees, devoid of the usual green foliage you knew wrapped around them at the beginning of each spring, reached up to the sky as if in prayer—brittle and outstretched—like the hands of a sinner.

"What am I doing here?" You asked yourself as you wrapped yourself more tightly in your soft cashmere coat and let out a convulsive sigh.

You didn't know how to answer that, and you couldn't seem to find the right one. That place... it seemed to call your name, and you couldn't resist the mysterious magnetism. The church was old and gloomy—the kind of church that people do not tell you the most pleasant stories about. Your eyes wandered over the faded, dark boards and the pointed spire, topped by a crooked, spiky cross that looked almost sinister as the rain swirled around it. The place had an air of desolation about it, and for a moment, you wondered if it was haunted.

It was the same church that your mother had gone to when she was a child, always dressed in her most beautiful clothes and with ribbons of silk woven into her hair.

"Did this place always look as spooky as it does now?" you asked her once.

The cold wind whipped through your long hair as you pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the church and made your way in. The rusty metal hinges sobbed pitifully at the sound of your action. The inside of the church was musty and smelled of incense, and visually, it was the same as millions of other churches: furnished with rows of wooden pews, with dusty Bibles lying in compartments attached to the backs of the pews. Narrow Gothic windows, decorated with the faces of sexless angels, stretched up to a vaulted ceiling.

There was no one there, which was what you would have expected, considering that there were only a few cars in the car park when you arrived here. You felt stupid for being here, completely unaware of what the purpose of your visit was in the first place.

The echo of your footsteps on the dark, faded midnight-blue velour floor was the only sound in the church. As you walked towards the back of the church, where the neatly decorated altar stood, your fingertips glided weightlessly along the cool edges of the old pews. Dark and full of suffering, the heavy crucifix hung over the altar like an unbearable sacred burden. There was a small confessional not too far from it.

One day, when you were a little girl, your grandparents took you to the church and insisted that you have a confession of your sins. Sitting behind the curtain, you felt so grown up; the small room seemed so much larger in comparison to your petite body. With your head bowed, you solemnly told the priest that you sometimes took a few extra biscuits when your mother wasn't looking, and he, in turn, instructed you to recite the Hail Mary a few times.

As you approached the confessional, you lazily tugged at the heavy velvet curtain, running your fingers over the faded fabric, which was worn in places. You wondered what sins you could repent of now; you didn't often reflect on what you'd done or seek forgiveness, at least not from an all-powerful divine being you weren't even sure existed. You opened the curtain and jumped at the sharp sound of metal rings as they scratched against the beam on which it was hung. The inside of the cabin was dark, and there was a smell of dust in it. You coughed and breathed in the small particles that stuck to your tongue in an unpleasant way.

"Hello, my dear."

You jumped at the slight echo of the soft, melodic voice that came from behind the metal bars of the confessional. Leaning against the door, you pressed a hand to your chest, feeling your fast heart pound. Squinting, you hoped to get a better look at the dark figure of the priest on the other side.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was here." You said it quietly. "I... I was just lookin' around."

"You're new, right?" The voice was beautiful; with every vowel the person formed, you could hear some kind of melody, low and languid, almost seductive, and you suddenly realised that your hands were covered with goose bumps. Was the temperature in the little cabin any cooler than it was in the rest of the church? You couldn't be sure, but you found yourself unconsciously pulling the tails of your coat closer to your body.

Intrigued by the man on the other side of the small grate, you took a step further into the small room and looked around.

"Something like that."

"You don't come to places like this very often?" The voice made more of a statement than a question.

"No." You agreed with it. "I can't remember when I've been to church lately." You whispered in reply, so quietly that you could hardly be heard.

Silence fell between you, and, not quite understanding what you'd done, you reached out and pulled the curtain, shrouding yourself in darkness. Through the metal bars, you saw a slender man's figure and carefully sat down on the velvet bench.

"So why did you come here today, then?" The priest asked, although there was something in his tone of voice that told you that he already knew the answer, perhaps even better than you did. Was all this small talk a normal part of confession?

"I... I'm not really sure, just an instinct." You crumpled the soft fabric of your cloak between your fingers, growing more nervous with every second of the small talk between you and the mysterious priest.

"I understand, of course." He replied with a note of familiarity, as if he heard the same thing every day of his life.

Feeling even more insecure than before, you raised an eyebrow and shifted into the uncomfortable seat beneath you. There was something special about this priest, but you couldn't put your finger on what it was.

"Is something bothering you, dear?"

You bit your lower lip as you tried to process what he said. Was something gnawing at you? Was there something that was bothering you to such an extent that you were beginning to feel pangs of conscience? Deep down inside of you, in the depths of your mind, where you didn't dare to go?

"Maybe?" You finally managed to say it, but it sounded more like a question. Your whole body was on edge, and you couldn't understand why it was so. You weren't afraid, no, but there was definitely a sense of something out of the ordinary. Something that was forbidden.

"You've been doing a lot of thinking lately, haven't you?" The man asked you a question, and all of a sudden you found yourself with your eyes half closed in bliss as you enjoyed the silky texture of his voice. It sounded like an angel was singing, but with a dark undertone. "You have been asking yourself questions, perhaps even too alarming ones."

You nodded weakly in acknowledgement of his words; despite the barrier between you, he seemed to be aware of your silent response.

"You're afraid you're bad." He said simply, and you could almost swear that he was laughing at the last two words, there was a hint of mockery in the tone of his voice.

Hearing him say that made your mouth dry up and you coughed slightly, trying to clear your throat.

"Holy Father, what makes you say things like that?"

"Are not all of us afraid of something like this at some point in our lives? We are afraid of ourselves, afraid of our sinfulness."

There was a blink of confusion on your face, a complete bewilderment at the strange turn this conversation had taken. And yet, somehow, you felt compelled to go on and hear more.

His voice dropped to a hoarse, velvety whisper that sent waves of heat down the length of your spine and caused you to squirm in your seat. Was this how you were supposed to feel at this moment?

"Let me tell you a little secret, dearie."

"I-am I listening?" Your heartbeat quickened as a single streak of pale light fell on the man behind the small bars, and for a moment you saw a dark, fox-like eye.

"We are all bad men. Every single one of us."

A shiver ran down your entire body, and you could feel the stuffy air in the confessional getting hotter and hotter.

"Even you, dearest child." He moved closer to the mesh holes in the barrier that separated the two of you, and you could make out the shape of his lips, diabolically curved and full. "Especially you."

"F-Father…"

"Wooyoung." He fixed you. "My name is Wooyoung. "

You repeated his name softly, sliding your tongue over each letter; your voice was barely above a whisper, but you could hear the man inhale sharply as his name came out of your lips. His name was sinful and sweet, almost wicked, like a serpent that tempts you to do the most evil of deeds. This man cannot be a priest at all. But if he was not a priest, who was he then?"

"You are," he began, and you could almost feel the smirk on his beautiful lips as he spoke. "Very naughty girl.

Oh, my God. This wasn't really happening. Was it? No, he couldn't have meant it. He was a priest, for God's sake.

"And what is your suggestion that I should do about it?" You asked shyly, looking down at the palms of your hands, which were now covered in shallow marks from where your nails had dug themselves into the damp skin. You couldn't see Wooyoung, but you were sure that the look in his eyes would be nothing less than piercing and malicious. "Should I say the Hail Mary several times? Pray for atonement for what I have done? You haven't even told me why it is you think I'm a sinner."

He let out a dark, dry chuckle, and you heard a muffled sound as you guessed that the palms of his hands were making hard contact with his thighs.

"Shall I show you?"

"Show me what?" Your eyes narrowed and a strange sense of anticipation began to well up inside you.

"How do I have the knowledge that you are a sinner?"

You chewed on your lower lip in thought, and then you cleared your throat with a kind of self-assured finality.

"All right. But I'm beginning to think that you're a little overconfident." You added that last part in an attempt to lessen your sense of vulnerability in front of this man. You had doubts that anything would change, but something told you that you would need all the confidence you could have.

Hearing your words, his hand reached out and pressed against the grating metal, and he let out a low purr. Up close, you could see the prominent veins that ran down Wooyoung's slender hand, his long fingers adorned with a number of expensive rings, and you tried desperately to suppress a certain feeling that threatened to force itself upon you.

"Go on, touch; don't be afraid." He called to you, and you stretched out obediently, repeating what he said, carefully placing your fingertips on the grating's metal.

Instantly, your entire world was enveloped in a bright, unholy light, and with each turn of your head, you saw clear images of unspeakable darkness, depravity, and longing. You recognised them as your dreams, as fleeting thoughts that you tried to push away, as shadows that danced on the walls of your bedroom in the late hours of the night. All of these images had been ripped right out of your mind.

You jerked your hand away from him as if it had been burned, and you cried out in pity as tears streamed uncontrollably down your cheeks. You blinked and suddenly found yourself back in the dark confessional, multi-coloured spots dancing in front of your eyes as if they were mocking you and your mind.

"What the hell was that?" You wanted your voice to be aggressive and forceful, but the words sounded weak and pathetic as soon as they left your soft lips.

"You see?" The coldness in his voice burned like a fire within you.

"Those... those are not my thoughts." You murmured in fear as the confessional seemed to grow colder and colder by the second. "They were not in mine."

Were they?

Now you could see your own breath steaming, and in one quick, desperate movement, you rushed to the curtain, tore it aside, and stepped into the light. As soon as you were out of the stall, you slumped limply into the front pew of the church, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

There was a rustling sound in the cabin before the door on the priest's side of the room opened slightly, and a man stepped out of the darkness—Wooyoung. He was of average height and was dressed entirely in black, like a second skin, with the exception of a crisp white collar. His black hair flowed like silk down to his sharp jaw line and framed the chiselled features of his face. With fierce dark eyes and full lips that curled into a wickedly seductive smile, he was handsome—beautifully handsome.

You should have been afraid of him after what he had just shown you. You should have turned around and run away and never looked back—away from this church and away from Wooyoung. As you have always sworn, you should have left your hometown forever.

But you didn't. The man in front of you, whose eyes seemed to have an even greater darkness in them, had completely hypnotised you.

"You are not the Holy Father." Your breath caught in your throat as he came closer. There was an unreadable expression on his handsome face as he looked down at you. "Who the hell are you?"

He smiled mischievously, and you saw something completely evil in his eyes.

"I am the man who is going to rid you of all of your sins." The sound of his voice was like sugar itself—hilariously sweet.

"W-what? Are you going to make me say my prayers?" At this, he laughed uncontrollably, vulgarly, and at the top of his voice.

"Oh, poor, sweet child." He said this in a drawl, dragging the toes of his immaculately polished black shoes along the floor and carefully folding his hands behind his back. "Absolutely not. I am going to make you repent for all of your sins."

He came to a halt just a few feet in front of you, tilted his head, and looked down at your body. There was a sense of nakedness and vulnerability under his piercing gaze. You felt completely helpless.

"Throughout your entire life, you have committed so many sins that it will take me a long time to get you to repent for them," he said. Wooyoung was talking about it as if it were the most common thing in the world.

"Go on, touch; don't be afraid." He called to you, and you stretched out obediently, repeating what he said, carefully placing your fingertips on the grating's metal.

"What the hell was that?" You wanted your voice to be aggressive and forceful, but the words sounded weak and pathetic as soon as they left your soft lips.

"You see?" The coldness in his voice burned like a fire within you.

"Those... those are not my thoughts." You murmured in fear as the confessional seemed to grow colder and colder by the second. "They were not in mine."

Were they?

But you didn't. The man in front of you, whose eyes seemed to have an even greater darkness in them, had completely hypnotised you.

"You are not the Holy Father." Your breath caught in your throat as he came closer. There was an unreadable expression on his handsome face as he looked down at you. "Who the hell are you?"

He smiled mischievously, and you saw something completely evil in his eyes.

"I am the man who is going to rid you of all of your sins." The sound of his voice was like sugar itself—hilariously sweet.

"W-what? Are you going to make me say my prayers?" At this, he laughed uncontrollably, vulgarly, and at the top of his voice.

"What if I have no desire for repentance?" You said it in a defiant tone. You wanted to be brave; you wanted to be strong and confident, but something deep down inside of you told you that Wooyoung was not the kind of person that you couldn't help but obey. His whole aura told you that if he wanted to, he would fold you up like an origami piece. But there was nothing you could do about it; you had to test the waters to see what would happen if you refused to bend to his will.

He looked at you so intently that you felt he wanted to eat you alive right then and there.

"But I have a feeling that's not the case, is it?" He said this as he ran the tips of his fingers along your jaw. You tensed as he touched you, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine as Wooyoung lazily ran his thumb over your lower lip. "I think you want to get on your knees before me, child. You wish to repent."

Your eyes widened at the sound of his words, and a smirk of arrogance spread across his perfect scarlet lips. Why haven't you fought back?

He leaned forward so that his gorgeous face was only inches away from yours. You squeezed your thighs together as warm wetness began to pool between them, realising he was even more beautiful up close, like sin itself.

"I could smell the sweetness of your cunt from the moment you walked into the church, you little slut." His voice dropped a couple of octaves, and you shivered at the feel of his hot breath on the skin of your body.

The vulgarity of his words made you gasp, but you couldn't deny how your mouth watered at the sound of his velvety voice saying the words 'cunt' and'slut'. God, he was doing something to you, but you were... You were attracted to it.

"I smelled that smell when you walked into the confessional, when you heard my voice, when you said my name." His eyes sparkled in a devilish way, trapping you in his gaze, and if you hadn't been so excited, you would have noticed the black shadows dancing along the edges of his irises.

He was speaking to you in an almost patronising manner now, and you froze in place as he pulled your lower lip down and gently ran his thumb along the inside of it until the pad of his finger was slick with your saliva.

"Wooyoung..." You exhaled, looking down at your hands, fidgeting aimlessly in your lap. Your cheeks were hot and flushed, and by the way Wooyoung looked at you, with a predatory hunger woven into the perfect features of his face, you could tell that your shyness was only turning him on even more.

"There's never been a girl in my life that has been so desperate for a fuck as you have. Your desires ... they are almost tangible." He was so close to you now that his hot lips touched the round of your cheek, sending a wave of electricity through your body as he spoke. "I have met many sinners in my life, as you can imagine."

"Are you going to punish me for that?" He raised an eyebrow before straightening up and looking down at you, seemingly completely satisfied with your answer. A majestic expression of all-encompassing power was frozen on his face as he spoke.

"No, darling, of course not. I wouldn't want to punish you, but I am going to make you repent. And the first sin you will have to do penance for will be lust." Wooyoung said, and you found yourself biting your lower lip at the commanding tone of his voice. "Stand up." He gave you the order.

You did as he asked you to, got up from your seat, and stood in front of the so-called priest. He moved around you in a circle, as if considering what to do with you, never allowing you to escape his dark gaze. His tongue stretched out to lick his plump lips in a sensual way; finally, he sat down on the spot where you had been a few seconds before and ran his hands over his muscular, thick thighs.

You were standing in front of him, completely at his mercy, your head bowed in respect as he looked at you like a predator from his seated position, your skin burning under the weight of his gaze. You could almost feel his eyes as they crawled over your body, peeling away layer after layer until they reached the very core of your soul.

"Get undressed." There was a metallic edge to Wooyoung's voice as he crossed his legs and leaned back, his long hair falling over his handsome face, making him even more vicious. "Now."

You opened your mouth to speak, words of protest hovering on the tip of your tongue, but you closed it immediately, realising that it was better not to protest. The feeling of submission came again, sharp and clear, and you quickly pulled off your cloak and threw it to the ground behind you. The soft fabric pooled on top of the midnight blue velour. Then your jumper and your jeans joined it, your hands shaking as you unbuttoned them and pulled them down to your hips.

As you shyly wrapped your arms around yourself, you suddenly realised that your nipples were hard and swollen and could be seen peeking out from under the thin white lace of your bra.

Wooyoung leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his sharp chin resting on his palms, before he glared at you.

"You have to undress completely, darling."

You nodded obediently, reached behind your back to unhook your bra, and with timid reluctance, pulled the lace straps off your shoulders. You lowered your eyes in shame and looked down at the floor, while Wooyoung kept his gaze fixed on you.

"In atoning for our sins." He began to speak softly, reaching out to your face and gently guiding your chin so that you looked up at him. "We do not have the luxury of being modest." Wooyoung patted your cheek in a condescending manner before he hooked his fingertips into the waistband of your panties, which were nothing more than a thin piece of white lace. He let out a sweet moan as he slowly pulled them off of you, inch by inch, revealing the smooth skin and the wet folds of your pussy.

You blushed as you watched him rub the lace between his fingers, and a thoughtful look came over his handsome face as he said.

"They're wet, darling." He finally said it in a sarcastic tone, his lips curling into a disgusted grin. "You really are a whore, aren't you? You walk around in wet panties and have depraved thoughts, and no less so than about a person who wears holy garments." Despite the roughness and harshness of his words, you could still see the mischievous gleam in his eyes. He tucked your panties into his trouser pocket.

"It's really pathetic, isn't it?" His tongue flicked over his plump lower lip until it was glistening with saliva, and a quick glance down at his crotch showed that he was hard. "You are so lucky that I am here to help you rid yourself of all the sins that you have committed, my child."

The humiliating nature of the situation was turning you on far more than you were prepared to admit. Your clit was throbbing with pain, so intense that it was beginning to distract you, and your thoughts were constantly wandering off in a thick, lustful haze.

"Show me how you touch yourself at night when you are alone with all those sordid thoughts. I want to see you give yourself over to sin." Wooyoung ordered you as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest in a casual manner. It was impossible to ignore his erection in this position, and your mouth fell open a little when you noticed just how massive the bulge was.

"Y-yes, sir." You whispered. Your mind was spinning with lust as you parted your legs slightly for easier access, your hand hesitantly touching the warm, soft flesh of your inner thighs, shuddering as you discovered the abundance of your juices running down it.

"Keep going, darling. Don't be shy." In response to his words, your fingers touched your neglected, throbbing clit, spreading a sticky, warm wetness and massaging it in slow, firm circles. You whimpered softly, partly from pleasure and partly from the thick humiliation that was blooming in your throat, to which Wooyoung only gave a wicked grin.

"Come on, we both know that you can do it better than that." He reproached you. "I'd like to see you fuck yourself, darling."

You swallowed hard and hesitantly let your fingers slide between the wet folds of your pussy. Your behaviour was beginning to irritate Wooyoung, and all the playfulness was gone in an instant, and a venomous bitterness appeared in his voice. With the silver of his rings digging uncomfortably into your skin, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around your wrist. His gaze was as intent and as dark as the night, and you shivered at the sight.

"Didn't you hear what I said? I said, fuck yourself."

It was such a rude and vulgar thing to say, especially coming from someone who was a priest, and it took your breath away. In obedience to his command, you immediately slid two fingers through the soft, wet folds and into your cunt. You let out a long moan as you felt your silky walls stretch around your fingers, and, trying to get more of the feeling, you began to move them back and forth. Trying desperately to keep your balance in this awkward position, your knees were getting weaker by the second, and you could feel yourself starting to orgasm.

"You don't expect me to believe that your slutty little cunt can only hold two fingers, do you?" Wooyoung mocked him, biting down on his plump lower lip with her perfect set of teeth.

Gritting your teeth against the invasion, you sighed heavily and added another finger. The soft walls of your vagina squeezed your fingers like a velvet vice with every move you made. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push away the shame that was quickly engulfing you like the flames of hell. The wet, squelching sound of your fingers moving in and out of your pussy was nothing short of vulgar.

"Harder, show me all of it." Wooyoung's sharp command came out, and you did your best to obey, curling your fingers and rubbing them roughly against the small, spongy bundle of nerves inside you. You were breathing heavily, your forehead and neck glistening with sweat, and your lips red and swollen when Wooyoung finally told you to stop. It was cruel, the way he waited patiently and calculatedly until you were about to come, only to deny you, but you couldn't bring yourself to complain; it was your punishment after all.

Your fingers picked up the glistening wetness that flowed from your cunt, and as you looked at Wooyoung, you brought it to your mouth and wrapped your lips around your fingers, licking it and sucking every last drop of it.

He rose sharply from where he sat, shading you and towering over you like the very embodiment of God—or the Devil? Wooyoung wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on your hairline, with a look of genuine affection on his handsome face. This tenderness did not last for long, however, and after a few seconds, he was back in his unrelenting position of authority.

"On your knees, dear." You did so without hesitation, your knees immediately touching the faded and discoloured velour.

"Look at you, stripped of all your dignity, on your knees, writhing in despair, like a bitch in heat. Aren't you a sight to see?"

You blinked slowly, looking up at him with a fawn's wide-eyed innocence, squeezing your legs together as another wave of excitement surged from your needy cunt. Wooyoung taunted you; there was no way he would show you mercy—you could see it in his eyes as he looked at you coldly, his pretty mouth pressed into a thin line.

"You have no pride, my dear, but you must still do penance for that, to be sure you will have forgiveness for that too." He lifted one foot and placed it on the seat of the bench, presenting you with a polished, expensive-looking shoe. "Clean it for me. With your mouth, my dear."

You raised an eyebrow at Wooyoung but didn't argue, for fear that he would punish you more severely and in more subtle ways if you didn't comply. His boot looked clean enough; not a single scuff could be seen on the shiny leather, and as you moved closer to the bench, you ran the tip of your tongue along the leather in an experimental way. It didn't taste like much, which was a relief to your anxiety, and soon you were flattening your tongue and licking the hard material as if your life depended on it.

"Good girl." He cooed, but there was very little in the way of kindness in that reassurance. As if you were nothing more than a pet, his hand stroked your hair. You were relieved when Wooyoung pulled away and removed his foot from the bench, shuddering at the thought of all the dirt you were putting in your mouth.

"Look at me, my darling."

Your eyes fell on the large bulge at the front of his dark, neatly pressed trousers, and you moved away from the bench so that you were now level with his crotch. A beam of red light shone through the stained glass behind him, reflecting off the black stone of his ring as Wooyoung ran his fingers over his belt. As he slowly unbuckled the belt, the church was silent, except for the faint jingle of the metal buckle. Your gaze lingered for a moment on the image of the Virgin Mary that stood in the corner of the church. Was there judgement in her eyes? Was there a sense of disgust? Her face was as divinely serene as ever, and you couldn't tell.

Too handsome to be a saint, he bowed his head towards you, long strands of black hair falling down to frame his face. Wooyoung unzipped his trousers, taking a moment for a lewd touch of his bulge before pulling out his hard cock. The head of his cock was wet and turgid; a thick drop of pre-cum rolled down its length, and you wanted to follow its movement with your tongue.

"What do you crave, huh?" He asked, hissing as his hand slid up and down the length of his thick cock.

"Do you crave something that can't be satisfied?" His words flowed in a rhythmic flow, and his tone was so soft that you could almost swear that he was singing to you. It was the voice of an angel that was calling out to you. "Do you take all that they give you, only to find that you're still starving to death?" You bobbed your head up and down, desperate and needy, and parted your lips as he rubbed the head over your lips, staining them with pre-cum, making them slick and shiny. You were giddy, stunned by the pure, erotic beauty of this man, this stranger, whom you had so willingly allowed to pollute you in this house of God.

"You're a greedy little animal, aren't you?" Wooyoung taunted you with a throaty grunt as he slapped his cock against your cheek. You kept your hands on your hips, waiting obediently for further instructions. You grew more and more restless by the second, not having his dick in your mouth or in your hand.

God, you were one hungry little thing, you really were.

From where you were on your knees, he looked ethereal, his full lips moulded into a perfect, sensual shape. It was fascinating to watch such a man let himself fall apart like that, his chest rising and falling and sweat forming on his forehead as he moved his hand over his thick cock.

He let out a low, guttural moan as he picked up the pace and came closer and closer to the edge, throwing his head back towards the vaulted ceiling. You were so turned on that you were sure your juices were already dripping onto the carpet beneath you, forming a small puddle, a dirty declaration of your desire. The unpleasant throbbing of your cunt only intensified as you witnessed Wooyoung's approach to orgasm, his breathing choked and ragged.

He looked down at you and licked his luscious, almost sinful, lips.

"Open your mouth, dear." As if you knew he wanted it, you parted your jaw and lowered your head to his cock. Wooyoung jerked his cock a few more times before he released a silky stream of hot, salty cum into your open mouth, an animalistic roar of pleasure escaping from his lips like music. "Don't even have a thought about swallowing."

You felt the thick stream of his cum begin to flow down your tongue and into the depths of your throat, but you ignored the instinctive urge to swallow. Wooyoung pulled his trousers back on, buckled his belt around his waist, and sat back down on the bench with a cold indifference. There was not a single trace left of the erotic image that you had seen just a minute ago.

He patted his muscular, thick thighs and looked at you defiantly, and you obediently walked over to him and sat down on his lap.

His warm thigh pressed against your cunt without pity as soon as you sat down, and you pressed against him desperately in pursuit of the pleasure he hadn't allowed you to have yet. At the same time, Wooyoung slapped your bare bottom with the palm of his hand.

"You have been impertinent to me, which means you have an anger that makes you want to sin. And that is one of my favourite sins, my dear. Wooyoung said as he put his hands on your hips to stop you from squirming on his leg. "To see all the terrible things people can do just because of a little anger is both fascinating and funny."

He lifted you slightly and placed you on his lap. You obeyed him without saying a word. He manipulated you like a doll, positioning you so that you were completely on top of him, your long hair falling in your face and your head tilted forward. You clenched your jaw as hard as you could, terrified of what would happen if you let a single drop of his sperm come out of your mouth. You winced and whimpered as he wedged his knee between your legs again, his hand brushing the tender junction of your ass and thigh.

"I can feel the rage burning deep inside you, my child." Wooyoung held your hands behind your back as he restrained you, tears welling in your eyes. He used his other hand to press down on your lower back and used his knee to press down on your wet cunt. You let out a scream, the piercing sound muffled by your closed lips. The texture of his cum seemed to get thicker the longer it remained on your tongue, and you had to clench your jaw tighter, praying that nothing would accidentally drip out. You couldn't afford to be disgusted by how bitter and cold it had become, coating your mouth with every slight movement you made.

"Isn't that so? Answer me, dear." He growled as he began to massage your ass so hard that you could feel his nails digging into your soft skin.

All you could manage was a pitiful "mmmm.".

"Angry, naughty girl." He said, his voice full of fake sympathy as he ran his fingertips along your thighs in preparation for what was to come. "We can't let this pass unnoticed, can we? You need to repent."

Without warning, he slapped your ass so hard you almost forgot the cum in your mouth. Your body jerked forward before he caught you and brought you back. He didn't give you any time to recover from the blow, as he landed a second one on the opposite side of your ass. Your eyes welled up with tears and concentration as you struggled to keep your mouth shut. Tears started streaming from your eyes down your flushed, hot cheeks as he hit you again with even more sadistic aggression than the first two times. Wooyoung continued his merciless assault, each blow harder than the last, until he landed a particularly hard blow that you were sure would leave a bloody handprint on your skin. The force of the blow was almost enough to bring you to a scream, and for a moment, your lips parted. A small stream of cum ran from the corner of your mouth and down the side of your chin.

You hoped that he hadn't noticed, but you realised that you were out of luck when he let go of your wrists and took a firm grip of your hair instead. As he leaned down to speak roughly into your ear, he dug his nails into the battered, red skin of your ass as he pulled your head back.

"I will have no choice but to extend your punishment if you make a mess, my dear." When he warned you, Wooyoung's voice was deep and quietly ominous, like the ocean on the brink of a storm. He waited for a nod of understanding from you before he let go of your hair and returned to his previous position, running the palm of his hand lovingly over the swollen expanse of your ass.

You closed your eyes and took deep, slow breaths as Wooyoung spanked you over and over again without stopping. You would probably have enjoyed the spanking if it hadn't been for the added responsibility of holding a tonne of cum in your mouthYou s you squirm under his touch. His knee was still pressed relentlessly against your cunt, and his trousers were no doubt slippery from your excitement, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body every time you jerked in response to another loud slap against your skin. The sound was almost deafening, echoing off the walls of the old church in a dull echo.

Your punishment turned Wooyoung on once more, his hard cock pressed against the side of your body.

"It's turning you on, you little bitch." The tone of his voice would have been venomous, but it still remained angelic in some way. "I shouldn't be surprised about that. It doesn't matter what kind of touch you have, is it? You're such a needy slut that even the most innocent of touches makes your cunt wet." He ran his fingers through the tangled hair at the back of your head and let out a mocking chuckle. "You can swallow now, darling."

You swallow the cold, sticky cum, gasping in relief as it slides down your throat, immediately following his request. You could still taste it on the inside of your mouth, a faint hint of savoury sweetness tickling your taste buds. After he had spent a few seconds stroking your battered bottom in gentle, soothing movements, he grabbed hold of your sides and lifted you up until you were back in a sitting position on the edge of his lap. For the second time that night, he unbuckled his belt, sliding his trousers and boxer shorts halfway down his hips and freeing his thick cock.

Your stomach churned at the sight of Wooyoung's big, thick cock, but you knew better than to give in to your dark desires. All you could think about was how much you wanted to feel it—to run your hand along its veiny member, to curl your lips around its warm, velvety length, to jump on it and take it so deep into your cunt until you were sure you could feel it deep inside your belly. Wooyoung was absolutely right: you didn't care how he touched you at all. You were longing to feel his touch in any way that was possible.

"Pampered little sluts like you are always too used to being given everything they want without having to lift a finger to get it." He said this as he used his thumb to massage the wet head of his cock. He lifted you up and guided you to straddle him, his hands gripping the soft curves of your hips. Your breath caught; you were so close to your desire that you could almost taste it on your tongue.

"Is that what you wanted, darling?" Wooyoung hummed sweetly as he wrapped his long fingers around your wrist and pressed your hand down onto his cock. Instinctively, you grabbed hold of it, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you ran your fingers along the prominent veins that adorned the length of his cock.

"Yeah, Holy Father." You said it breathlessly. "God, yes. This is what I have been craving so much."

"You little whore, you ought to know better than to take the name of the Lord in vain in the presence of a priest." Wooyoung teased, and you could feel his hot, cinnamon-scented breath on the back of your neck. The pleasure rippled through your body.

"Please, Wooyoung, please, I want to repent." You came close to whimpering. Your hips jerked in Wooyoung's tight grip in search of some kind of relief, and he reached forward to hold you tightly.

"You must try harder, darling. I want to see you try to repent." He placed his hands on either side of you, and the corners of his sensual lips curled up slightly into a wicked grin as he leaned back against the bench and looked at you from under his half-closed eyelids. You leaned forward and held his cock upright by the base. Sitting up, you rubbed the flushed head along your soft, wet folds, pushing it past your entrance and stretching the small hole with his thick, hot cock. Your heart pounded in your chest, pounding against your ribs as you slid on top of him all at once. At the obviously intense pain of his thickness stretching your narrow, silky walls, tears streamed from your eyes.

"Dear Lord." You let out a loud moan and rolled your eyes back as he suddenly filled you to the brim. Wooyoung didn't move, maintaining a majestic coolness, but you could see him sucking his plump lower lip into his mouth when he could feel your pussy enveloping him, a soft hiss coming from the back of his throat.

"That's it, my darling." He praised you, not being able to control himself, and he began to knead your plump tits in his hands. You squealed and barely moved your hips, still trying to get used to the idea of having something so massive and so hot inside of you. "I want you to fuck yourself on my dick. Can you do that for me like a good girl?" he asked.

"Yeah, Holy Father." You replied breathlessly. You leaned over Wooyoung's shoulder and grabbed hold of the edge of the bench with both hands to prop yourself up. As you began to move slowly, up and down on his cock, Wooyoung pressed his mouth to your sensitive nipple and ran his tongue over it.

You were starting to sweat, but you continued to fuck yourself as ordered, gaining momentum with each thrust of your hips.

The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the empty church and mingled with the muffled, lascivious moans that escaped from your throat. You had never experienced ecstasy like this before, and you were not sure if you would ever be able to experience it again. You were insatiable, moving your hips in an almost painfully hard rhythm, your knuckles white from the force of your grip on the bench. The head of Wooyoung's cock reached your cervix, and you saw stars, unable to think of anything else but your inevitable orgasm and the devilishly beautiful man beneath you.

"Fuck, oh, fuck, Wooyoung, please..." You screamed out the words in an incoherent manner, completely consumed by the intense pleasure you were feeling. Wooyoung was a lot less eloquent than you and tried to control himself, but it was obvious that he was going crazy as well, judging by how hard he was pressing down on you. You could be sure that the marks that his hands had left on your body would be there for a long time to come.

He growled as he lifted his hips up towards you, and streams of tears began to run down your cheeks with renewed force. It hurt, but you loved the pain, you craved it, and you knew you wouldn't be able to forget it for weeks and weeks.

"I'm so close... oh fuck, I'm... I'm..." You let out a loud moan and threw your head back.

With that, he pushed you away from him with such force that you fell off his lap, your ass touching the cold velour carpet, his cock coming out of you just as you were about to come. You sobbed pitifully and looked up at Wooyoung with your eyes wide and glassy as he rose to his feet, his cock glistening with the wetness of your cunt.

"I don't think you're sincere enough in repenting; you're still full of sin, full of forbidden and dark desires, my dear." Wooyoung said it in a dismissive manner as he looked down at you. He leaned down and ran his long fingers through your hair, pulling you up until you were kneeling. "I know what you want, negligible girl. You want to cum. But unfortunately for you, today I'm the only one who can do it."

He mocked you, taking pleasure in the look of misery on your face as he forced your mouth open. He then shoved his cock into your mouth, letting you taste the arousal of your own as it covered him, and without any warning at all,, he began to fuck you in the face at a fast, merciless pace. Gagging on his cock and taking shallow breaths through your nose as he pushed down your throat, using your hair as a rein to guide your head, there was nothing you could do but take what was given to you. You felt his cock twitch, and then your nose was pressed against the smooth, hot skin of his pelvis, one hand holding you in place as warm ropes of cum shot down your throat. He released you and threw you on your side like a rag doll when he was sure you had drunk every last drop.

Too humiliated to look into the eyes of the gorgeous man who had brought you to this state, you began to sob, pulling your knees to your chest. There was no more holiness in Wooyoung than there was in the devil himself. Like the wolf in sheep's clothing, he wore a robe. At the moment, you were nothing more than a whimpering mess, bruised and humiliated, with a sore throat and trembling lips.

And yet somehow your cunt was throbbing and leaking, desperate for filling.

"Please, Wooyoung..." As the words left your lips, you felt numb and didn't even know how you could speak. "Please."

From where he was standing, he looked sinfully delicious, towering over you like a fallen angel dressed in black and sin as you lay on the floor, and you watched in disappointment as he tucked his dick back into his trousers. With what little strength you had left, you tugged at the hem of his trouser leg, and he tilted his head questioningly, a sensual smile crossing his plump lips at the sight of your hopeless state.

"Please. I don't know what you want me to repent for, but please.... Just... please. I'll do anything for you. Wooyoung..." You were on your knees, pressing your cheek against his thigh like a cat begging for food.

"What do you want, my child?" He asked in a voice that was patronising and majestic. He gently stroked your cheek with his thumb, wiping away some of the tears that had partially dried as he did so. "Wasn't that enough for you? Isn't it enough that my cock fills your mouth and your cunt? Are you going to ask me for more when I have already given you so much?"

You lowered your eyes in shame.

He grabbed you roughly by the shoulder and jerked you to your feet, throwing you onto the bench as he did so. Wooyoung licked his lips as he admired the sight of your naked body as it lay on the wooden bench, the angry red marks on your skin, and the blackened bruises that adorned your thighs.

"Do you want to cum? Is that what you want, you little slut?" Wooyoung asked you as he dropped to his knees and spread your thighs wide open. When you didn't answer, he smacked you hard on the inside of your thigh. "Answer me, bitch."

"Oh my God." You sighed, melting at the teasing sensation of the cold air of the wind on your hot and needy cunt as he spoke. "Y-yes Holy Father. That is what I want."

"Isn't it?" Wooyoung purred, holding your hips in place so that they would remain open for his pleasure. "I will be gracious to you, because that is what God commands us to be."

Suddenly, he lowered himself forward and buried his gorgeous face in your pussy, stroking vigorously between the folds of your pussy and collecting your sticky secretions on his tongue. You moaned wildly, one hand tangled in his black silk hair, reflexively rubbing your pussy all over his face. He wrapped his plump lips around your clit, sucking just enough to leave you stunned, and ran his tongue between your soft folds, swollen from his previous actions. Squirming helplessly under his ministrations, you cried out as he let go of one of your hips and slipped two long fingers inside you.

It was brutal—the way he moved his fingers inside you in a merciless way, his mouth working fervently over your clit. The edges of your vision became blurred, and soon you could feel the walls of your pussy beginning to contract, a sign that your climax was nearing.

"I... I... damn!" He flicked your head once more with the tip of his tongue, and then you came, throwing your head back in euphoria as you were consumed by your orgasm. Your cunt vibrated as Wooyoung laughed mockingly, and it was then that the whole situation became clear to you: you had been fucked, well and truly. He wasn't going to let you breathe; instead, he continued to play with your throbbing clit, a third finger thrusting into you with a dirty, lewd slurp.

"This is too much..." You whimpered as his tongue moved quickly around your sensitive clit, and his fingers spread you lightly as they went. You had no choice but to accept what he was giving you—the pleasure coursing through you so strongly that it became unbearable—but you were sure that was what he wanted—to punish you with what you craved so much.

He ran his fingers inside of you, guiding them so that they hit the deepest places that no one else had ever been able to reach. He twisted and turned them, brushing against something that was spongy and sensitive, and for a moment all you could see was white as you came for the second time. Just as you had feared, Wooyoung had no intention of stopping; now he was sucking on your clit with such passion that you could barely move, and you fell limply to the back of the bench, your legs twitching under his tight grip. He continued to push his fingers deep into you, your body shuddering weakly each time the tips of his fingers made contact with your cervix.

"Wooyoung, please stop." You begged, but all he did was laugh maliciously and spread his fingers out inside of you, stretching you even further. He pulled away from your clit with a loud pop, and you were on the verge of a sigh of relief until he removed his fingers from your core and replaced them with his sinful lips.

"N-no, that's too much, please!" Now you were sobbing openly as he lowered his head to lick the stripes between your folds, his thumb circling your defenceless clit, his long silken hair tickling the sore skin on your inner thighs.

Wooyoung sucked one of your labia into his mouth before he pushed himself deeper into your entrance and began to fuck you with his skilled, long tongue. You felt the familiar tightness in your stomach once more, and the muscles in your thighs clenched as he pinched your clit with two fingers. The coil in your stomach snapped without warning, and then you came, but this time everything was different: a wave of clear liquid burst from your overstimulated cunt and soaked Wooyoung's face and the front of his perfect shirt.

Eventually, he pulled himself away, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he looked down at the mess that you had made.

"You filthy little thing." He laughed as he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and licked his wet fingers at the mess. "So, what do you think? Have you come to understand how you can repent of your sins?"

"Y-yes, Holy Father." You said you were clenching your legs in a protective manner in case he decided to go for another round.

"Good." He rose to his feet again, looking just as untouched as he had been the first time you had seen him, except for his hair, which was slightly dishevelled.

Your whole body was aching, from your sore ass to your swollen cunt, from your hips to your back. You were sure that for the next few weeks, Wooyoung would be the only thing on your mind. "I will be waiting for your return, my child. I need to be sure that you have understood the righteous path and that you are living without sin. Do you understand me, dear?"

"Yes, Wooyoung, I am definitely going to come back to confess."

695 notes · View notes

cheollipop · 5 months

Text

❅*⋆ 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙣𝙤𝙬

navi | taglist

pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader

w.c.: 4.4k

genre: smut, fluff, established relationship

while the world revelled in the first snowfall of the year — crowding their windows as the sky painted the streets in a blanket of white — your focus remained elsewhere, too busy celebrating wooyoung.

❅ warnings: food/eating mentioned, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, men whimpering *drools*, wooyoung is a tease, sub-leaning!reader, cockwarming, creaming, praise, nicknames (youngie, woo; baby, good girl, darling, love), they are so in love i want to throw up

❅ A/N: happiest birthday to my beloved.

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Smoothing your spatula over the cooled top layer, small, golden crumbs adhered to the buttercream as you coated the freshly baked cake’s exterior. You peered outside the window atop the sink, a smile stretching your lips when you’d noticed the falling white specs coating the world behind the safety of your glass pane.

You loved winter. You loved the hot chocolate with marshmallows melting into a swirl of whipped cream, huddling up on the couch with candles burning, blankets engulfing your form while the world around you faded away as warmth seeped into your skin. You loved the anticipation of snow, and the bliss it brought with it when it dressed the streets in a soft, pearly gown. You loved the big jumpers you’d sneak out of Wooyoung’s closet, his scent imbedded into the soft fibres, and the homemade soup burning your tongue as he spoon-fed it into your open mouth. Even with harsh storms swaying the trees from side to side, branches banging against your windows, hail pounding on the hoods of cars, and bleak winds breaching the thick layers of cashmere and fleece, winter with Wooyoung was warm.

Too immersed in taking in the sky’s frosty offering, you’d missed the gentle rustling of keys, the click of the front door, mindlessly spreading the slightly-too-thick coating while socked feet padded their way to your idle form. The sudden hands on your waist startled you, a gallop of buttercream flying off the spatula you were holding as your arm jolted upwards, quickly twisting your body with a stunted inhale to face the intruder. Your initial fright dwindled away as you stood before Wooyoung, eyes closed to avoid the buttercream stuck over his eyebrow, his body trapping yours against the marble counter.

“Woo,” you breathed out a sigh of relief, giggles bubbling up in your throat as you reached for the tablecloth you had thrown over your shoulder, wiping his face with your lips drawn tight to suppress the laugh attempting to slip through.

“Is this how you treat me on my birthday?” You wanted to kiss his pout away, but you resisted. “I rushed home to my darling because I missed her so much, and she tries to blind me,” he sulked, fluttering his eyes open once you’d wiped his face completely clean.

This time, you giggled, leaning forward to press your lips together, moving to peck the corners before pulling away. “I’m sorry, my love,” you smiled apologetically, not bothering with teasing him on his birthday. His mouth stretched into a smile that mirrored yours, and you leaned into his body, arms wrapping around his small waist while his circled your own. Glancing down at his shirt, about to scold him for the improper number of layers he’d thrown on before leaving, your eyebrows shot up at the blotchy streaks of brown painting the thin white. “What did the guys do to you?”

He tilted his head to take in the state of his shirt, blowing out a breathy laugh before directing his gaze back to your puzzled features. “Oh baby, you should’ve seen my face. They had Jongho push it down into the cake.”

“Mm, you still have some in your hair,” you grinned while picking out the crumbs from his hairline, running your fingers through dark locks to break up the stuck-together strands.

A gust of air blew over your face as it escaped Wooyoung’s parted lips in a heavy sigh, interrupting your ministrations when he dropped his head onto your shoulder to nuzzle his nose into your pulse point, inhaling the lingering scent of vanilla wafting off your skin and occupying your residence. Pressing a kiss to your neck, he muttered against the soft flesh, “I’ve missed you.”

You smiled, “you’ve only been gone for two hours.”

“Too long.”

Your chest warmed, fingers carding through the soft hairs at his nape while he laid the weight of his head onto your shoulder, breath steady and arms secure around your waist, occasionally tightening as he zoned in and out of the present, content to simply rest within the aura of tranquillity you’d effortlessly granted him. “You’re here now,” you burrowed your nose into his hair, the chocolatey aroma of a wasted cake embedded into the soft locks.

It wasn’t that Wooyoung was fond of winter too — he simply enjoyed spending it by your side. Pretending to be cold so you’d snuggle closer to him, running your hands through his hair and peppering kisses over his face until it scrunched up, blowing hot air over his already-warm palms just to see the corners of his eyes wrinkle as his lips curled with a smile. You'd wait all year to watch the world pile on layers of thick fabric with a sheet of white, quickly melting dust resting on their shoulders, dainty snowflakes bedecking brown locks, irises glinting under the winter sky as you walked down the slippery sidewalk with intertwined fingers swinging between your bodies.

Winter, to you and Wooyoung, meant meaningless walks under the soft snowfall, feeling the momentary chill of the icy flakes on your skin before it reverted back to liquid. Red noses inhaling the crisp air, soft gusts of fog leaving freckled lips as excited words rolled off his tongue — something about a new series he was watching, or was it a movie? The non-prescription glasses he insisted on wearing all but fully beclouded, droplets of melted snow rolling off the plastic frame, his lips cracked with their excessive movement as he kept switching between topics, as though he’d been saving them up for weeks. As though you didn’t share most of the day’s hours in each other’s company, eyes meeting delicate features as the morning sun cast its early rays over your resting figures, and falling shut within each other’s embrace, hoping their gentle touch could carry into your dreams.

Wooyoung knew when to be quiet as well. When the grey, weary skies reflected upon your affect, your warm sheets proving to be a little more difficult to part with, and words a little more difficult to utter. In such instances, Wooyoung offered you peace, safety, warmth. A place to rest and recover, where the passage of time didn’t seem too daunting, where you could find footing at your own pace, with a gaze flooded with unfaltering adoration cast upon you, and arms warmer than the peak of summer holding your trembling form until it found the strength to stand alone, a ghost of a palm on your lower back even as you took your first steps back into the present.

A pleasant exhale warmed your shoulder before Wooyoung’s body retreated partially, arms still encompassing your body while he directed his focus onto the counter behind you. “Has my baby been working on this since I left?” His tone was playful, amused as he peered over your shoulder at the crumb-coated cake left unfinished.

The corners of your lips lifted into a shy smile, cheeks flushed while you nodded. With your eyes fixed onto a particular stain on Wooyoung’s collar, you’d missed the tenderness of his gaze as he took you in — curling in on yourself while he held you in his arms, flour dusted over your sweater and traces of buttercream left at the corner of your mouth from a sneaky taste testing you thought would go unnoticed. Holding your chin with his pointer and thumb, Wooyoung directed your focus back to his face, greeting you with an easy smile before leaning forward to close the gap between your lips. They sashayed like dancers, moulding against one another in a gentle, yet gradually deepening kiss, noses pressing against one another as Wooyoung stepped further into your space.

And just like that, he was gone again, moving back to moon over the blend of abashment and disorientation taking over your features while your lips continued to chase his, the plushness lingering over your senses, and you wanted more. But the hands on your waist were twisting you clockwise until you faced the loitering snowfall once again, Wooyoung’s arms now on either side of you, bracketing your body against the counter while his lips feathered over the cartilage of your ear as he spoke, “come on then, don’t let me distract you.”

Your heartrate picked up, Wooyoung’s body heat — despite the intentional space left between your back and his chest — seeping into your skin, not aiding the flush running up your body at the proximity, the not-so-innocent touches, the teasing, the taste of his lips persisting over yours.

“Woo,” the tone was firm, but your voice wavered before you could stop it, and the telltale stretch of his mouth against the shell of your ear told you all you needed to know — Wooyoung was aware of his effect on you, and would work to exploit his power in any way he could.

Slender fingers reached for the piping bag you’d set aside earlier, twisting one of your hands with his free one to place the tool into your open palm. “Here, I’ll help,” his smirk remained, evident in his voice as he laid his hands over your knuckles, following your lead as you adjusted the bag in your hold until it fit comfortably.

You exhaled the breath you’d been holding, steadying your trembling hands and angling your body over the counter, dragging Wooyoung down with you as he watched your measured movements in silence. Pressing down on the sides of the plastic bag, you formed your first buttercream swirl with a meticulous twist of the wrist. You pursed your lips, leaning back ever so slightly to examine it before nodding in approval, bending down once again to repeat the process.

Wooyoung's hand remained perched idly over yours, eyes flitting between your profile and the hands lining his birthday cake’s circumference with — very uneven — swirls of vanilla buttercream. With no trace of your previous bashfulness to be found, Wooyoung found himself mooning over the engaged furrow of your eyebrows, the glossy sliver of tongue held between your teeth, steady hands moving underneath his with no complaint about their added weight; you’ll most likely use that as an excuse to justify the noticeable discrepancy in swirl size, and Wooyoung will most likely allow it, drop the banter and accept you accusations, simply to see the blissful spark lighting up your irises.

Suddenly straightening up into his body, you’d dragged Wooyoung out of his sappy daydreams and back to inspect the finished cake, the decorative swirls appearing more uniform now that they’d been clustered together, the mouthwatering scent of vanilla and caramel so inviting, so homey and pleasant.

As though you’d read his mind, you reached forward to grab a clean fork from the dishrack, not bothering with cutting out a slice before you’d stabbed the cake to scoop out a bite of fluffy, vanilla-coated sponge. Wooyoung's mouth opened without thought as you directed the heaped fork over your shoulder, teeth clanging against the metal as he slid the contents off its prongs. You'd expected the passionate feedback, turning your head as soon as his eyes had fell shut, wishing you’d plugged your ears as soon as the hyperbolic moaning began. Sensing the sway of his body behind you while he chewed loudly, you slid your finger over the coated side of the cake, collecting a bead of buttercream and rotating your body to smear it onto his cheek. The moaning stopped, thank fuck.

The deadpan expression barely lasted, his features melting into that of warmth, affection, love — as though you’d handcrafted the intricate snowflakes painting the world white and placed them into his hands. Wooyoung’s gaze moved to your lips, skipping contemplation, and diving forward to share the sweet remnants of vanilla on his tongue, flicking it over your bottom lip with a sly smile. He trailed tender kisses up your face, starting at the corner of your mouth and up to your cheekbone. And just as your eyes fluttered shut, a warm, buttercream-covered cheek collided with yours, curved nose nuzzling into the warm flesh to smear the sugary cream over your skin. His grip on your waist was unyielding, holding you still while you thrashed in his arms.

“You shouldn’t play with your food, my love,” he grinned, fingers now poking at your sides.

“Woo—” you shrieked and jerked away from his touch, throwing your head back as giggles erupted from your chest. “Please—s-stop!”

He carried on with his ministrations for a few moments more, revelling in the pleasant melody leaving your smiling lips, the joyous expression persisting even after his hands ceased their motion, now resting comfortably over the curve of your waist. It was as though an inconspicuous force drew him to you, finding it laborious to remain detached from your form. The cake on his shirt be damned, he wrapped himself around you, tucking his head into the crook of your neck to inhale the scent of your body wash, pressing feathery pecks over the soft skin.

The corners of your lips curled upwards, sighing pleasantly at the gentle gesture as you smoothed your hands down his back, nuzzling your cheek into his clothed shoulder while the scent of musk and chocolate mingled in the air around you.

Settling in the tranquil stillness with Wooyoung, you could feel the taut, lean muscle lining his back beneath your palms, absorbing his comforting heat as you stood together. “How are you not cold?”

He smiled fondly at the slight lisp you spoke with, tucked so close to his body, his shoulder muffled your words. Pulling back, he placed a wet kiss to the tip of your nose when you’d whined about the sudden parting, and his hands reached for yours. He enveloped the icy digits within the warmth of his own, bringing them up to his mouth to blow hot air into the cocoon he’d created around your hands. Closing his fingers around yours completely, he hoped it’d contain the warmth of his breath, lowering them back down to peer at you through his eyelashes, a familiar glint in his eyes.

“What?” you questioned warily, one eyebrow raised and heat rushing through your body.

Despite his intense stare, his eyes — though slightly narrowed — remained soft, one hand leaving yours to smooth down the hair at the side of your head, the scent of chocolate surrounding you once again as he pressed his lips to your temple, the leftover sugary cream on his skin spreading over your cheekbone as he spoke.

“My sweet baby, let’s warm you up, yeah?”

All plans to ravish you vanished as soon as your knees met the carpeted floor between his legs, hurried fingers tugging at his sweatpants, not allowing him the time to settle back down onto the couch cushions before a wet tongue swiped over the precum beading at his tip.

“Baby, you really don’t have to,” he muttered breathlessly, fingers carding through your hair, eager eyes watching your spit-soaked lips approaching his cock.

Looking up at him through your lashes, you wordlessly took his cockhead into your mouth, fluttering your eyes shut as you lowered yourself further down his length, grunts and choked moans reverberating in your ears and motivating you to carry on. He felt heavy on your tongue, the prominent vein lining his shaft throbbing in your mouth and bitter precum overwhelming your tastebuds. Wooyoung’s thighs tensed under your palms, and glancing up at him, you watched the turmoil his features portrayed, wanting you to move at your own pace, yet the burning want sizzling in his gut begged him to take what he wanted.

“Youngie,” a gentle mumble of his name was enough to drag him out of the battles crowding his mind, snapping his eyes down to your face with parted lips and stunted exhales. Dragging your mouth down his length, you watched as his gaze moved to take in the slow descent, then back up at the sound of your voice, “use me however you want, birthday boy.”

You flattened your tongue over underside of his cock, moving upwards to circle around his head, your exaggerated slurping breaking Wooyoung’s composure, the internal battles in his mind coming to a standstill as your warmth engulfed him, eyes beginning to roll back with every inch you took down the rough plane of your tongue. His hands shot up to hold your face, thumb caressing your cheekbones while he kept you in place, languidly rolling his hips into your mouth, head thrown back over the cushions behind him with burning arousal rushing through his body. You nuzzled your nose into the thick hairs at his base, and even as you gagged, your mind floated in ecstasy with every upward buck of Wooyoung’s hips.

“Fuck—‘m sorry darling, you feel so good,” he admired the skill in which you took his cock with lidded eyes, brows furrowed while he held you down until he felt the last of your oxygen warming the skin of his pelvis.

Wooyoung helped you off his length before you had the chance to tap on his thigh, chest heaving as he watched you regain your breath, his throbbing length coated in your spit and spurting translucent, sticky precum in anticipation. He followed the string of saliva connecting the tip of your tongue to his cockhead, swallowing dryly as his body lit up with all-consuming lust. Watching you suck in the air you’d lost, Wooyoung assumed he’d have more time to recover, to push down the hints of an orgasm come too soon, but the sudden fingers around his base offered him no reprieve. Small, firm tugs on the lower half of his cock built him up to an almost-high once again, his voice thinning — groans turned choked-up moans — and his hips involuntarily jerking into your fist.

“W-wait—baby, ‘m gonna cum, please—” he pleaded, but the small smile you tried to hide told him everything he needed to know: you weren’t planning on stopping. You wanted to hear him whimper and whine, watch him squirm and shiver under your touch until he’d dirtied his clothes with his own cum, until his cock could no longer handle the flaring stimulation. But Wooyoung had other plans, grabbing your wrist and sighing as you relaxed your fingers around his cock, shutting his eyes to bask in the calm before opening them once again to take in your dejected features. Too riled up to play your games, like a carnivorous fauna who’d been mercilessly starved for weeks, Wooyoung wanted to feast. “God, darling, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

You thought the couch would’ve been reserved for foreplay and playful teasing, but Wooyoung didn’t bother move to the comfort of your shared bed, simply lifting you off the ground and trapping you under him, the fingers tangled in the hair at your nape tugging your head back to bare your neck while blunt canines left imprints over the delicate skin. Wooyoung’s cock fit snugly between your walls, resting comfortably within your clenching heat while he ravished you, his body weight resting on your pelvis restricting your movement. It seemed as though the raw lust blazing in hooded eyes had dissipated completely, replaced by unwavering patience, gentle pecks and blooming bruises, a throbbing cock seated within your cunt with no plans of moving, of fucking you the way you’d yearned for.

“Youngie,” you whined, a high-pitched whisper that elicited a hum from the man biting into your shoulder. “Please move.”

A breathy chuckle blew over your skin, “I thought the birthday boy made the requests?”

Your expression fell, was it the embarrassment or dejection? Either or, you turned your head to face the backrest, the motion restricted by the hand in your hair, now easing its grip as Wooyoung noticed the flush spreading up from the collar of the flour-dusted sweatshirt he didn’t bother add to the pile of clothes haphazardly thrown over the carpet.

Redirecting back up to your jaw, he planted wet, open-mouthed kisses over its slope, gentle fingers on your chin guiding your gaze back to him. “Oh baby, I’m just kidding.”

His lips settled into an easy smile, soft fringe fanned over his forehead and shimmering beads of sweat forming over the slivers of skin peeking through. The abashment you’d felt faded upon meeting his eyes, void of any judgement, and full of unconditional infatuation. His lips landed onto yours while you were too busy admiring his features — a slow, deep kiss to match the leisure movement of his hips, the drag of his cock over your walls throwing gasoline into the fire burning in your gut. Arm hooking under your knee, he spread you open and laid himself over your lower half.

“What are you—”

“Moving,” a sly smirk paired with a sharp thrust into your welcoming heat, a groan left his parted lips while he watched you melt under his towering frame, the audible squelch of your pussy like music to his ears.

He didn’t give you time to process, elbows digging into the cushion on either side of your head as he built up to a mind-numbing pace, stuffing his cock inside you and revelling in the pleasure painting your features — eyes shut and mouth forming an ‘o’, unable to form coherent words, only a staccato of airy ah’s. His cock was relentless, repeatedly pressing into your sweet spot to light fireworks behind your eyelids, your hips rolling to meet his to create an echo of skin-on-skin between the four walls. The constant squeeze of your pussy around him, the sweet sounds leaving your lips, the firm hold you had around his biceps as he pistoned his hips into you with fervour — Wooyoung’s composure began faltering, and his desperation unveiled itself the deeper he fucked himself into your sopping cunt.

You were so wet, a frustrated whine reverberating in Wooyoung’s throat when he slipped out of you, hands trembling as he hurriedly pushed himself back into your fluttering hole, sighing in unison once your walls were once again moulded to his shape. He lowered himself atop you, his forearms easing some of his body weight off yours while he nuzzled back into your neck, grunts and breathy moans now much closer to your ear, much clearer, sending searing waves of heat straight down to your stretched core.

“So fucking perfect,” he muttered into your skin, “taking me so well, letting me use your cunt the way I want. Such a good girl for me,” he bit down on the column of your throat, feeling it vibrate with your moans as he built himself up to the brink of his orgasm, then slowing down to drag you there with him.

“Fuck, Woo, please—”

Your fingers found the hair at his crown and tugged, not to pull him off you, but to hear the whimpers sounding at the back of his throat. You were close too, so fucking close from the relentless abuse of your g-spot, Wooyoung’s cockhead pressing into it with every forceful thrust into your needy cunt while his pelvis continuously brushed against your swollen clit. The familiar fluttering didn’t go unnoticed, your pussy gripping Wooyoung with its every retreat, swallowing him back inside — inch by inch — with an exhale of relief.

“Close?”

It sounded more like a statement, but you nodded anyway, the hands on his shoulders sliding down his bare back to grip the warm flesh of his hips, desperately guiding them into your heat. The gesture, paired with the doe, sparking eyes you looked up at him with, the gentle tone of your voice as whispered pleads and repetitions of his name escaped your pouty lips, dragged Wooyoung over the edge, tumbling down the steep hill of his orgasm until his vision blurred with unshed tears. The rhythm he'd maintained broke, replaced by sloppy, frenzied thrusts into your dripping cunt, a thick ring of cream forming around his cock as he emptied inside you.

He twitched violently between your walls, and the sudden warmth spreading through your lower belly dragged you down that hill with Wooyoung. You clamped down around his length, halting the frantic pounding as he sheathed himself within your cunt, feeding thick ropes of white into your womb while he shuddered above you, unfiltered moans vibrating against the side of your neck.

It felt like you were still coming, even as Wooyoung used your cunt to milk out the last of his cum, heavy dollops streaming out of the stretched hole, your walls continued to flutter around him, thighs trembling at his side and under his palm. Even as he stretched your leg out for you, refusing to leave the comforting warmth of your cunt while he wrapped his arms around you and twisted you onto your sides, your mind still floated within a cloud of ecstasy.

Was it your orgasm, or was it just Wooyoung? His presence, the soft scent of his cologne and the chocolate in his hair creating a bubble of comfort around your resting frame, his warmth seeping into your skin and lighting your heart ablaze. Today was meant to be about him, celebrating him, but love laced itself into everything Wooyoung did, and he couldn’t help but give, even on a day on which he was meant to take.

“Thank you for today,” the words spoken into your hair were unexpected, and you lifted your head to meet dazed eyes.

“What?”

“The cake, and the dessert,” he smiled at the innuendo, leaning down to peck the tip of your scrunched nose. “Thank you for loving me.”

Dumbstruck, you stared up at the man with glassy eyes, tucking yourself back into his chest before he could question the tearful reception of his words. But Wooyoung only held you tighter, pressing a faint yet reassuring kiss over your hair while you sunk further into his arms. Warm. Even in the midst of winter, Wooyoung was warm.

With the fluffy blanket you’d laid over the backrest now wrapped around your bare figures, you rested within Wooyoung’s secure hold, sharing whispered confessions and hearty giggles while the sun started its descent from its locus. And as the sky shifted from blues to a vivid magenta, you endeavoured to maintain the smile stretching Wooyoung’s lips, to watch his lines around his mouth further deepen until this happiness forever etched itself onto his face.

The world continued to celebrate the first snow of the year — blankets of white now melting over the asphalt — but your focus remained elsewhere, too busy celebrating Wooyoung.

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theostrophywife · 6 months

Text

kiss with a fist | chapter eleven.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: 18 - one direction.

author's note: please enjoy my pookies in domestic bliss.

The streetlights casted shadows on the sidewalk as you climbed the steps to your childhood home. As you made your ascent, fresh flurries rained down from the winter sky, covering the quiet neighborhood in a blanket of snow. Beside you, Theo fidgeted with the hem of his cashmere jumper and roughly combed a hand through his curls for what seemed like the millionth time that evening.

You slipped your fingers through his and squeezed. “Don’t be nervous, Teddy. They’re going to love you.”

Theo shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the only tell signifying his nerves. Over the past few months, you became more and more attuned to your boyfriend’s body language. For someone who always had a sarcastic comment at his disposal, there were a lot of things that Theo conveyed without words.

For example, you now knew that incessant tapping of his fingers meant that he was in dire need of a cigarette break, the slight clench of his jaw was a warning that someone was about to get their head bashed in for flirting with you, and that a tongue against the cheek meant to meet him in the broom closet immediately. Needless to say, you’d become an expert on reading Theodore Nott and right now, he was a never ending novel of nervousness.

It didn’t surprise you. When you first invited him to Christmas dinner, Theo had grown so quiet that you actually checked his pulse to see if he was still alive. You were cuddled up in bed at your dorm when you sprung the question on him. It had only been two months since you officially started dating, but you knew without a doubt that you would be taking Theo home to meet your parents at some point. The only question was when.

Then your mum had outright demanded that you bring him by for the holidays in her latest letter, which pretty much sealed the deal for you. Theo’s family wasn’t really big on celebrating Christmas given its origins, but his nonna had invited you to come to Triora for New Year’s, which you gladly accepted. She was as eager to meet you as your parents were to meet Theo.

The two of you had taken each other’s news very differently. At first, you were nervous, but the excitement of learning more about your boyfriend's family offset the jitters. Theo, however, went into full psycho mode in the weeks leading up to his visit. He made you quiz him on traditional muggle festive activities, asked a million questions regarding your parents and their expectations, and even got special permission for an emergency shopping trip to muggle London so you could help pick clothes that were ‘boyfriend material.’

The boys had made fun of him incessantly, but Theo didn’t care one bit. He was on a mission to win your parents over and nothing was going to stand in his way. Pansy said it was the most work she’d ever seen him put into anything. Luna thought it was incredibly sweet, albeit a bit amusing to listen to you explain the concept of Santa Claus to your very confused boyfriend.

Said boyfriend now looked panicked as he peered inside of the black bag he’d brought along. “Are you sure I shouldn’t have sent a flower arrangement ahead of time? Or a bottle of vintage wine from the vineyard? I was going to, but I didn’t know what we were having for dinner and there’s truly nothing more embarrassing than paring the wrong wine with—”

You pulled him down by his scarf so that you were face to face. “Theo, this isn’t a soiree at Malfoy Manor. My family is as far from high society as you can possibly be. We’re just normal people. There’s no need to worry, babe.”

“I really want them to like me,” he said softly.

You grinned. “Well then use that famous charm of yours and win them over like you did with me.”

“Yeah, but you were after my smoking hot body,” Theo responded sarcastically. “It’s harder when I don’t have that as an advantage.”

He yelped when you slipped your cold hands underneath his jumper. Theo pried your fingers from his stomach before warming them up between his own. “See what I mean? You’re only using me for my perfectly sculpted abs.”

“I’d like to lick those perfectly sculpted abs in my childhood bedroom at the end of the night, so make sure you make a good first impression in there.”

“As if I don’t already have enough pressure on my shoulder,” he declared dramatically. “Now I have to swat your horny little hands away from me all night.”

“Oh, please. Like I haven’t caught you adjusting yourself countless times since we left the train.”

“It’s not my fault that my girlfriend’s absolutely fit, alright. The extremely short skirt doesn’t help either, love.”

“I’m wearing tights, you pervert.”

“Yeah, but when has that ever stopped me?”

“Behave, Theodore. I promise to reward you after.”

Theo sighed and flicked your nose. “I am but your humble servant, cara mia.”

You giggled and kissed his cheek. “Now come on, Teddy. Time to be a big boy and meet your girlfriend’s parents.”

The minute you opened the door, the nostalgic smell of freshly baked cookies and pine filled your senses. Christmas had always been a special occasion in your household, so it wasn’t surprising at all to find the entire flat festively decorated. The foyer was covered in floor to ceiling with fairy lights and wreaths lined the narrow hallway while garland twined around the staircase into the second floor. Theo peered around in wonder, seemingly amused by the statues of glittery snowmen, red nosed reindeers, and the white bearded man carrying a sack of gifts.

“Looks a bit like Dumbledore,” Theo said.

You snorted before leading him into the living room. The fireplace was lined with stocking and lit with a flame that cast a soft, cozy glow upon the fresh pine tree, which was adorned with a combination of ornaments and other quirky trinkets that you had collected over the years. Underneath it sat a mountain of neatly wrapped gifts.

“Is that you, bug?” called your father’s voice.

Your parents emerged from the kitchen, walking hand in hand towards you and Theo. Your father offered your boyfriend a warm smile, while your mother sized him up like she did to her opponents in court.

“This is the infamous boyfriend, then?” she asked with a raised brow.

“What my wife means to say is that we’re very happy to meet you, Theodore. Y/N has told us so much about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N. Please, call me Theo.” Theo shook your father’s hand before handing your mother a bouquet of sunflowers. “Y/N told me that sunflowers are your favorite. I hope these are to your liking, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

Your mum’s expression softened as she accepted the flowers. “These are quite lovely. Thank you, Theo.” She admired the sunflowers and smiled. “How did you manage to get your hands on these? They’re out of season for the winter.”

“My family grows them in an enchanted greenhouse back at our vineyard. My nonna actually helped me pick them out. She said that a real gentleman never shows up empty handed,” Theo flashed a charming smile before pulling a fresh tub of gelato from his bag. “Which is why I’ve come with dessert as well.”

“Flowers and ice cream?” Your father asked in an impressed tone. “Your nonna raised you well, young man.”

You chuckled. “It’s gelato, dad. Calling it ice cream is practically a criminal offense in Teddy’s eyes.”

Theo blushed at the nickname while your parents shared an amused look. “Well, Teddy,” your father playfully teased, “You can educate us poor English folk on the intricacies of gelato after dinner.”

Calling the spread your mum had prepared dinner seemed like an understatement. She certainly didn’t hold back on preparations this year. All of the classics were there—prime rib, yorkshire pudding, praline chestnuts and sprouts, and roasted potatoes. While you enjoyed the food at Hogwarts, there was truly nothing like a home cooked meal.

“Before we dig in,” your father started, “We have a little tradition in this house. Every Christmas, we go around the table and say a few things that we’re thankful for. You don’t have to participate if you don’t want to, but it’s been a bit of a ritual for us since Y/N forced us all to do it because she thought it would earn her more presents from Santa when she was five.”

You flushed in embarrassment. Theo grinned at you like he’d just learned a life changing secret. “I’d love to participate. Maybe I’ll get extra gifts from Sandy Claws, too.”

The cheeky bastard shot you a wink, which made your parents laugh. “It’s Santa Claus, Theodore.”

“Potato, potato, amorina.”

With a fond eye roll, you clapped your hands together. “I’ll start us off then. I’m thankful for mum and dad. Loons, Pans, and the boys. Teddy, of course. And my last year at Hogwarts.”

Your mother and father went next. In true mum fashion, the first thing she gave thanks for was her landslide win against another misogynistic barrister. She used a few colorful words to describe him, which made Theo’s eyes grow wide before he burst into laughter and whispered that he now understood where you got your attitude from. Dad’s declaration was considerably less vulgar, but very sweet and endearing nonetheless as he gushed about his two favorite girls.

When it was Theo’s turn, you were surprised to find him a bit shy and nervous. You grabbed hold of his hand underneath the table and squeezed in reassurance.

“I’m thankful for my wonderful girlfriend and her lovely parents for inviting me to Christmas dinner. I’m thankful for my friends and family, especially my crazy old nonna who regularly gets into screaming matches with the neighborhood pigeons. And…I’m thankful that I’ll be attending Cambridge in the fall.”

“You got in?” you asked excitedly, nearly leaping off your chair.

Theo nodded sheepishly, chuckling as you threw your arms around him and squealed. “Oh my god, Teddy. That’s amazing. I’m so excited for you!”

“Congratulations, Theo,” your mum said. “You should be very proud of yourself.”

“Well done, young man,” your dad added, clapping Theo on the back. “Well done indeed.”

The rest of the dinner went smoothly. By the time dessert rolled around, Theo had completely won your parents over. You swore that he could’ve charmed the feathers off of a hippogriff. No one in the muggle or wizarding world was safe from the cheeky little grin of Theodore Nott.

After gorging yourself on stracciatella, your parents were more than happy to pull out the embarrassing childhood pictures. A delighted Theo devoured every humiliating picture of you from your unfortunate bowl cut when you were three to the slight overalls obsession you had at age six. He beamed at a photo of you posing proudly with your Hogwarts letter.

“That was a very special day for our little bug,” your father recounted fondly. “Professor McGonagall delivered the letter in person and explained that our baby girl was a witch.”

Your mum smiled, recalling the memory. “Obviously, it was a lot to take in, but Minerva was incredibly patient. Neither one of us knew that magic was actually real, but I suppose that after the initial shock wore off, we weren’t really all that surprised. We always knew that Y/N was special.”

Theo twined your fingers through his. “Yeah, she really is. Y/N has kept me on my toes since first year. I don’t think I would’ve tried this hard at school if it weren’t for her.”

“Oh, we know,” Mum said with a chuckle. “She used to write letters about the infuriating Nott boy who kept taking the top spot in class. Imagine our surprise when she told us that the two of you had started dating.”

“This one was adamant about meeting you properly,” your father chided as he wrapped an arm around your mother. “Said she wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t break our little girl’s heart.”

“I assure you, I wouldn’t even dream of doing such a thing. Y/N has my heart in her hands and she has the power to do whatever she pleases with it.”

You blushed furiously, but Theo didn’t even appear fazed. For him, this wasn’t an attempt to flatter or impress your parents. He was merely stating facts.

“Smart answer, Theo.” Your mum said, nodding in approval. “We expected nothing less. It’s clear that you adore our daughter and vice versa. My husband and I are genuinely pleased to meet you and we’re looking forward to seeing more of you in the future.”

Theo beamed and placed an arm around your shoulder. “I’ll be here for as long as she’ll have me.”

You chuckled softly as your father sniffled a little, blinking away his teary eyed expression. “Well, we’ll leave you kids to it before dear old dad gets any more sentimental than he already is. Be sure to introduce Theo to Bandit, bug.”

After you parted for the night, Theo turned over to you with a smile. “So, bug. Do I finally get to snoop around in your room?”

You sighed dramatically. “Fine, but not a word about my stuffies or else I’ll stupefy you and send you on the next train home.”

“My lips are sealed, amore mio.”

The door to your bedroom creaked slightly as you made your way inside. Theo followed closely behind and took in every detail. You looked around the room, trying to see it from your boyfriend’s perspective.

The walls were painted a vivid sky blue color and all of your furniture came from a French vintage market, designed to fit perfectly with the overarching Marie Antoinette theme. There were gold stars painted on the ceiling, which you and your father had painted over the summer after your first year. It had taken the entire holiday since the Ravenclaw within you insisted on properly depicting an accurate star chart.

Books littered every corner of the room, some neatly categorized in shelves and others strewn in every available nook and cranny to accommodate the overflow. This year you opted to arrange a small stack of your favorite novels, twining fairy lights through them and forming the perfect book lover’s festive tree.

By far your favorite place in the whole world besides Hogwarts was the little bay window that faced west of your neighborhood. You had many fond memories from your childhood of curling up with a good book under the warmth of the setting sun.

Theo made himself comfortable on the cushioned bench and stretched his long legs. He grabbed the stuffed raccoon perched on the windowsill and grinned.

“And who might this be?”

You plucked your favorite stuffed animal from your boyfriend’s hands and settled into his lap. “Teddy, meet Bandit.”

The edges of his lips quivered. “You named your stuffed raccoon Bandit?”

“I realize it may not be up to your sophisticated standards, but keep in mind that I was two when I got him. Bandit was the best I could come up with.”

“I’m not making fun,” Theo said, wrapping his arms around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “I happen to think it’s adorable. I bet you used to cuddle with him every night.” He poked Bandit’s fuzzy nose. “Sorry mate, but I’m afraid I’ve taken your spot and I’m quite loath to give it up.”

“You do a lot more than cuddle with me, Theo.”

Your boyfriend covered the stuffed raccoon’s ears. “Not in front of the stuffie, dear.” You rolled your eyes and swatted his hands away. “I’d apologize for her vulgar behavior, but I’m sure you’ve witnessed it far longer than I have.”

“On second thought, I think I much prefer to cuddle with Bandit. He gives me a lot less sass.”

Theo tilted your chin, grinning as he nuzzled his nose against yours. “You love my sass,” he whispered against your lips.

“Not as much as I love your ass.”

He chuckled as he pressed his lips against yours. You sighed as he kissed you deeply, your fingers automatically fisting the front of his cashmere sweater. Theo tasted like stracciatella and spearmint toothpaste and you smiled as his arms snaked around your waist while his tongue flicked against your bottom lip.

Theo caressed the curve of your jaw and pulled away reluctantly. “As much as I love where this is heading, I’d like to give you your present before you maul me entirely.”

You swatted his arm. “I don’t maul, Theodore.”

“Maul, devour. Same difference. Now come on, love. It’s already past midnight, which means we can exchange gifts.”

“Fine,” you sighed exasperatedly.

In reality, you were more than excited to do your first exchange with your boyfriend. You walked over to your dresser and retrieved the neatly wrapped gift hidden within. The green and silver wrapping shimmered in the moonlight and was topped with a silk black ribbon. Theo grinned as he presented his gift, which was adorned in blue and gold paper. Sometimes it was scary how similar your minds worked.

“You first, cara mia.”

Theo watched as you carefully unwrapped the present. You pulled out a gray fleece jumper and chuckled when you saw the Cambridge crest embroidered on the front. It was identical to the one Theo had given you at the start of term, but with a more legible design.

“I hope that this doesn’t make you think you’re getting your old jumper back.”

“Of course not. I have long accepted that every one of my jumpers will end up in your greedy little hands.” You stuck your tongue out rather childishly while clutching the jumper, which made Theo chuckle. “That’s not all, my love. There’s another gift in there for you.”

Sure enough, underneath the jumper was another smaller box wrapped in gold. The paper looked suspiciously lustrous. You wouldn’t have been surprised if it was made from actual gold. As soon as you saw the corner of the book, you nearly shrieked.

“Theodore! You absolutely did not!”

Theo smirked. “I absolutely did too.”

In your hands was a first edition illustrated copy of Pride and Prejudice. It was bound in soft leather and had the original blue cover surrounded with golden peacock feathers. Aside from a few wears and tears, the book was in pristine condition. It felt almost sacrilegious to hold such a beautiful piece of literature in your hands. Especially since owning it had been your dream since you were a little girl.

“How did you know?”

“The field trip to Edinburgh. I saw you looking at it in one of the bookshops.”

“That was over a year ago,” you said in complete astonishment. “Back when we were still bitter enemies. I can’t believe you remembered.”

“I remember everything about you, my love.” Theo smiled softly. “I’ll never forget the way your eyes lit up that day. I didn’t even think twice before buying it if it meant seeing you smile like that again.”

Your eyes filled with tears. “It’s too much, Teddy. This must’ve cost a small fortune.”

He shrugged. “What’s the point of being rich and handsome if I can’t spoil my girlfriend? Money isn’t an object, principessa. I’d gladly drain my vault at Gringott’s in exchange of making you happy.” Theo swiped a tear from the corner of your eyes. “Besides, the book is non-refundable so you better make sure to put it to good use.”

The laugh that left your lips was slightly hoarse and your chest constricted with emotion as all of your affection for this sweet, wonderful boy threatened to spill over.

“Ti amo, Theo.”

“Ti amo cosi tanto, Y/N.”

You kissed the tip on his nose and smiled at the blush warming Theo’s cheeks. “You know you’ve made it nearly impossible to follow that up, right?”

“Why do you think I wanted to go first?” You swatted his arm, which only made him grin in response. “I’m kidding. I’m sure I’ll love your present.”

You nodded, pushing the green and silver box towards him. Theo opened it slowly and lifted the lid. He immediately smiled when he saw the vinyls. After a trip to Camden Market, Theo had fallen in love with a record player and lugged the thing all the way back to school. The boys were fascinated by the muggle invention and played the few records Theo owned until they were scratched beyond belief.

Theo shuffled through the Smiths, the Cure, the Clash and Fleetwood Mac with increasing excitement. When he pulled out the Queen record that you purposely saved for last, a fond expression settled over his features.

“I think I knew I was in love with you the night you snuck me into the music room,” he said softly. “I suspected it for a while before that, but then I heard your cute little snort for the first time and I knew I was done for.”

“Oh my god, Theo. You totally had a crush on me. How embarrassing.”

Theo rolled his eyes affectionately. “Thank you, amore mio. I really do love it. I can’t wait to listen to all of them.”

“There’s—um—another gift in there for you.” Your boyfriend raised a brow at your sudden nervousness. He moved the vinyls aside and found a golden badge carefully wrapped in black silk. A broom and wand was etched on the gilded surface as well as Theo’s name. Underneath it was the title ‘Sports Coordinator.’

“After the slug club dinner, Harry and I started working on something. We both agreed that the separation in this school is doing more harm than good, so we talked to a few people from different houses—Cassius, Hannah, Colin, Cho and a few others who felt the same way that we did. After meeting a few times, we proposed creating an inter house committee that basically acts as a student governing body that represents members of every house equally. We can all collaborate on making decisions regarding social events, academic clubs, and even school policies. McGonagall approved it just before break. We’re hosting our first official meeting when we get back. Pansy agreed to be social coordinator, naturally. Cassius wanted to be treasurer. Did you know he’s quite good at maths? The other upperclassmen will be involved as well, but we wanted to leave the officer positions to the younger years because they’ll be spearheading it after we leave.”

You took a deep breath, anxiously fidgeting your fingers. “I was wondering…if you’d like to be the sports coordinator? I was thinking you could arrange the first interhouse quidditch game. I overheard you and the boys talking about it before.” Theo stared at you in absolute silence. “It’s alright if you don’t want to. I just thought maybe—”

The sentence was cut off as Theo took your face between his hands and kissed you more fiercely than he’d ever kissed you before, which was saying a lot. Your boyfriend was definitely not shy with physical displays of affection. It only took half a day for the rest of Hogwarts to know that you were officially dating after Theo kissed you in the middle of the Great Hall for everyone to see.

“Is that a yes?” you asked when he finally let you up to breathe.

Theo pressed his forehead against yours and smiled. “Of course it’s a yes.” He took the badge and pinned it onto his jumper. “I’ll wear the badge proudly, my love.”

You chuckled. “Sorry that my gift isn’t as good as a first edition Jane Austen novel.”

“Are you kidding? This is the best gift anyone’s ever given me. You single handedly created a new governing student body so that my friends and I and whoever comes after us won’t live in constant hate and judgment. You’re amazing, amore mio. I love that smart brain of yours.”

“Merry Christmas, Teddy.”

Theo gathered you into his arms and kissed the top of your head as you both looked out the window to watch the snow fall softly over the quiet neighborhood.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

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#WHEN IS IT MY TURN HM #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theo nott smut #theo nott imagine #theo nott x y/n #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott smut #theodore nott imagine

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scribeofnight · 2 months

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⸝⸝ ꒰ 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔. 🫧ㆍ₊⊹

✦ 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 ;; rafayel x afab!reader ✦ 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 ;; slightly suggestive, slight fluff - mostly brainrots ✦ 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌 ;; clothed grinding! slight making out! spoilers for + heavily based off of raf's myth! ambiguous ending! reader is in denial! reciprocated love! sadistic rafayel! slight demeaning / derogatory tone! mean rafayel! ✦ 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 ;; 2.9k ✦ 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖻𝖾'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 ;; my first ever proper rafayel fic. i really tried to write smut but i was and never will be one - for now, at least. it's been so long since i wrote something but, the rafayel girlies in the LADS official discord server and i were talking, and i just HAD to write this out, you know? i rushed this out in like 3 days in between classes and studying, so not my best work... t-t anyway! enjoy~

You supposed that it was a good thing - after all, the ocean was loved by you, as though it was real, and true. You imagined what it would be like, to be loved by the ocean (and you refuse to believe the image of him appearing in your mind as soon as you think it).

It was yet another sleepless night - you could tell. The sands from the bay billowed into the air, mingling into the ocean’s scent as though in a romantic waltz, the howling barely audible yet so loud to you. You did not know what to do; for you were never this sensitive to the ocean’s gaze and touch until before…him.

You swing your feet down to the carpeted floor, cashmere wool tickling your bare feet imperceptibly as you make your way towards the window, praying to the stars that the marble flooring beneath the carpet was not too cold. It had been chilly of late, more so with his absence, you realised. You try to push away these foreign feelings, dawning on you like a stormcloud, fogging over violent seas. It made sense not to indulge in them - a princess falling in love with a Lemurian? That would be unheard of (you dare not say you wished it was just).

Pulling open the door to the balcony carefully, so that it would not creak, you peeked out, finding dark clouds rapidly looming in the sky, a big mass of darkness. You sighed softly, dejection almost visible in your bodily language as your shoulders drooped lightly, a mirage of exhaustion creeping into your features. If Miss Natasha saw you as such, she would be berating you for your ‘unlady-like posture’. You could almost hear her, you realised, giggling to yourself quietly as you made your way back to your bed, the short distance from the balcony to your bed covered in a few mere strides.

Miss Natasha only meant well ever since she had found you unconscious near the ocean. Without a second doubt, she had taken you in and fed you, gave you shelter and some work to keep yourself occupied with - along with a name. She would press a warm towel to the red mark of a koi fish - that she found burnt just under your left breast, on your ribcage - whenever it burnt. You did not realise it before, but Miss Natasha knew what it was; and for your safety, she had to keep quiet.

You gingerly sat down on your bed, looking out the window through the fluttering gaps of the billowing curtains, the moon illuminating your room, bathing it in its romantic glow. You fiddled with your fingers, picking and pulling at the skin around your nails - one habit that always warranted you a harsh reprimanding and an earful, as well as a manicure from Miss Natasha.

A flash of purple caught your eyes as you spotted the fishtail beacon next to you - one that he had given.

You knew he always smelled like the ocean from the infrequent times that you both have met - sea salt, with a hint of lavender and burnt sugar. Oftentimes, you wished you could bottle it up and store it away. A little reminder of him, locked away in a part of your chambers for you to use whenever you missed him - which was often, but it is not like you would admit it out loud.

“Holding it like this, I’ll sense Your Highness’s presence.”

His voice echoed in your ears from that night; the warm timbre, that look he gave you when teaching you how to use it, the warmth from his hands as they enveloped yours… you shook your head to clear the thoughts. Hesitantly, you reached out to hold the fishtail beacon in your palm, tracing the detailed fins and tail, a smile worming its way to your face as you sighed softly. You could almost feel it - feel him - if you closed your eyes.

Thinking of, there are a lot of things you would not admit out loud - especially about him. You rubbed your eyes carefully, the revelation somehow exhausting you.

“Your Highness has been harassing my fishtail beacon for quite some time now. Did Your Highness wish to see me?”

Your head snapped up, all sense of weariness gone as you gaped at the purple clad man in front of you, leaning against the wall next to your window. You swallowed harshly at the realisation of how he looked like he belonged there, in your bedchambers, your head spinning.

You asked dumbly, despite you gripping the fishtail beacon tightly in your hands, your fingers still fiddling with its end. You pretended to not notice Rafayel’s full body shiver as you caressed the fishtail beacon, and you certainly did not notice his breath hitch, nor his voice get deeper.

“Rafayel, what are you doing here?”

“Imagine my surprise when I found Your Highness daydreaming while grasping my beacon as so. Tell me, Princess…”

“Your Highness is caressing my beacon so tenderly. I inferred that perhaps Your Highness was in danger and came rushing over, as a good companion would,”

Rafayel remarked smugly, his voice dripping with confidence, words rolling out like warm ocean waves under the glittering sun. He clicked off his mask, placing it on your bedside table before taking a seat next to you, gently pulling the beacon out of your hands, his voice taking on a raspier edge.

His face moved closer to yours, the fishtail beacon discarded somewhere in the folds of your satin sheets, his breath ghosting over your face lightly. You could feel his gaze weigh heavy on you, eyes glowing slightly in the dark as they bore into your eyes, his lips pulled up in a light smirk before he pulled away slightly, placing a few more inches of space between the two of you.

You cleared your throat carefully, reaching out to grasp the sleeve of Rafayel’s robe, tugging on it and pulling him closer to you as you stood up as well, guiding him to turn to face you.

“What is it that you were so preoccupied with while my beacon was in your hands? Was it perhaps… me?”

Rafayel murmured, his voice saturated with a lilt you could not quite identify before he cleared his throat, standing up quickly, his back to you as he sighed. His shoulders were drawn together, clearly tensed as he hunched into himself. You could hear him muttering illegibly to himself, only catching the words ‘shouldn’t have’ and ‘what was I thinking’.

You murmured, gently brushing his hair back. You watched his eyes widen in surprise before his body stiffened, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed harshly, a light blush coating his cheeks at the proximity, his breathing slightly erratic.

“Rafayel.”

His voice broke off into a whimper as you tugged him closer, your fingers threading through the hair at his nape, effectively silencing him. You felt his arms gingerly rest on your waist, neither pushing nor pulling as you nudged your nose against his cheek, sighing quietly.

“Your Highness, I- I apologise; it seems as though the waves tonight are slightly uncontrollable tonight- i must retur-”

He parted his lips, his tongue darting out to wet them lightly as his eyes flickered from your lips and back to your eyes. He turned his face away, a hint of shyness evident as his crimson shaded ears made his feelings obvious, maybe perhaps his thoughts as well.

“Tell me what it is that you are thinking of, Rafayel.”

Your voice, albeit hushed, held a lot of power over him, you realised. You would not blame him - after all, if he spoke to you like this, you would react just as he is at the moment - trembling slightly beneath your touch, his breathing erratic as his ears burn red. His body was so warm, so warm that it burnt through your clothes, seeping into your skin and warming your bones.

He started quietly, inhaling sharply as you pressed closer, your head tucking into his neck as you sighed quietly. You could feel his pulse thrumming rapidly under your cheek - your only solace to find out it was just as fast, if not faster than your heartbeat. His grip on your waist seemed to tighten as he sighed audibly, gently pulling a few inches away from you.

“Your Highness- this is hardly appropriate-”

His voice resounded in the room, shaking you to your core despite the confusion. You blinked up at him, your arms still loosely wrapped around his neck, your lips parted in slight confusion. He stared down at you, a small smirk playing on his lips as he realised your innocence. Quickly clearing his throat, he ignored the burning of his ears, bending his knees slightly as his hands slid from your waist to the back of your thighs. Pressing a kiss right on your left rib cage, he tapped the back of your thighs gently once more, as you shivered while entrapped in his arms.

“Jump.”

With a soft, low chuckle, he guided you to a nearby wall, his breath fanning over your face carefully, barely breaking a sweat as he carried your weight. You stared up at him, taking in his features, getting drunk almost, as you counted the number of his beauty marks that you could see, swallowing the saliva that pooled in your mouth at the sight of him so close to you.

“Jump for me, princess.”

Unsure of what his intentions were, yet blinded by all you had, you followed his words, hopping carefully, yet hesitantly. In that moment, as you gasped, he gripped your thighs tightly, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist, one hand sliding to the small of your back, pressing your upper body against his as his other hand held you up from under our thighs, his fingers brushing your butt lightly.

He murmured as he propped you against the wall, his head dipping down into your neck as he pressed a chaste kiss there, his hand sliding up from your back to your waist, his grip on your waist tightening as he shifted such that his knee was between your legs, digging into your skin deliciously.

“You’re staring, Your Highness,”

You sound so utterly wrecked, and nothing had happened at all. You felt his knee jerk slightly, pressing into your core once more, pulling a strangled moan out of your lips. Panicking, he quickly looked up at you, covering your mouth with his hands, his knee rocking back and forth as he watched your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Rafayel…”

He murmured, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he dipped his down towards your ear, nibbling your earlobe sensually, a soft groan escaping his lips as his hot breath fanned across your ear, shivering from the feel of how close he was to you.

“Quiet now, Your Highness. We can’t have everyone finding out how debauched and indecent the princess is when around her Lemurian companion, can we?”

He continued, pressing feverish kisses down your jaw and neck, gently biting down on your collarbone, licking the bite soothingly as he smirked at your muffled whimpers, his hand still firmly clamped over your lips. You had not registered that his knee had moved away from your core, and that he was grinding against you, his erection so prominent as it dug into your core through the layers of fabric, broken gasps and moans tumbling off your lips, barely muffled by Rafayel's slender fingers, his hand on your mouth pressing down further, fueling your pleasure as your eyes rolled back, the drag of his erection and both of your clothes so delicious.

“Unless you’re into that - then I’d be happy to oblige.”

“Awww...~ Awh, you're so adorable, princess... What, can't handle a bit of pain? Have I spoiled you too rotten, my dearest jewel? Maybe I should increase your pain tolerance. What do you say to that, Your Highness?”

“I have no problem in showing off what is rightfully mine.”

A jolt of electricity went through your spine as you heard his words, a gasp tumbling out your lips, barely muffled by the Lemurian’s slender hand. Your fingers once again threaded through his hair, tugging him up to meet your face as he rocked his body against you, soft moans and grunts falling from his red lips, as he brought a finger to the mark he had left on the junction where your neck meets your shoulder, pressing down on it slightly, watching you squirm as you try to shy away from the pain.

You groaned at his words, your toes curling as he seemed unaffected by the way you writhed under him, a small pout gracing your lips as your tongue darted out to wet your lips, tugging the purple-haired man closer. He could see the desperation in your eyes, and you were sure as hell that he could feel the damp stickiness between your thighs through your clothes. He watched patiently, a predator tracking its prey, watching a shaky exhale falling from your plush lips as his eyes darkened imperceptibly.

"Already so wrecked? You sound so debauched, Your Highness. Do you have no shame? Letting your Lemurian pet given to you as a gift have his way with you... I suppose I really should protect you, hm..?"

“Rafayel,”

Your voice sent a shiver down Rafayel’s spine as he grinded particularly roughly against you, his hips jerking violently into yours as you both moaned out in unison before Rafayel pushed you up further against the wall, clamping both hands down on your lips before shuddering once more, grinding into you slowly, carefully, his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip.

He groaned into your ear, his voice getting rougher as desire tinged his voice with saccharine, timber dripping with sugar-sweet honey a sharp contrast to the drunken lilt of pure heady, unadulterated pleasure seeping into both of your veins. The air was hot, so excruciatingly hot - so tense and you could not think of anything else except wanting to feel him deep, deep inside of you, quenching a never before known thirst that sparked and ebbed from your core, through your whole body, tingling with need, and want, and so much more that you just could not put into words.

Rafayel obliged, bending down and slotting your lips together in a frenzied, sloppy kiss. He panted against your lips, his body rocking into yours slightly rougher; more desperate, as he bit your lower lip, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he twirled it around your tongue, his hand moving to hike your nightgown up, both of your desperate, poorly muffled moans reverberating around the room and travelling between your lips, eyes squeezed shut and fingers tangled in hair and squeezing hips, squeezing so hard you were sure you could see faint red imprints tomorrow. You could feel his bulge rubbing onto your core deliciously, the friction and roughness making your toes curl as you moaned into the kiss, helplessly holding on to Rafayel as your nails dug into his shoulders, his clothes only getting in the way. The heady scent of lust and sweat clouded the room, creating a deliciously suffocating atmosphere that only fueled the need for him to be closer, closer, closer.

“Rafayel, please.”

You begged, your voice so broken, so utterly filthy sounding to Rafayel, and oh, did his head spin. Who was he if not a weak man to his princess’ desires?

He groaned in frustration, breaking the kiss, his eyes trailing a string of saliva that followed as he parted your lips gently, his tongue coming out to wet his lips - more so lick off the remnants of your kiss as he pressed his forehead against yours, pants leaving his mouth as your breaths intermingled, his hands carefully slipping out of your nightgown as he sets you down gently, still trapping you against the wall.

“I would love nothing more than to be yours for eternity, Your Highness.”

“Your Highness… are you…?”

His voice trailed off, filled with uncertainty and yet equal amount of desire as he looked at you, his eyes shimmering with want, ocean blue overshadowing the stiff peaks of pink dotting his irises, the mole on the left side of his nose very much distracting you. You gulped, feeling heat pool further to your core but you shook your head, cupping the taller’s cheeks gently and tugging him down, guiding his lips closer to yours.

“Would you let me have you for myself tonight, Your Quintessence?”

Rafayel froze, his body stiff against your tender hold, ensnared by your words as he gazed at you with wide eyes, his mouth slightly open, clearly not expecting his formal title to fall from your plush, red-bitten lips. You giggled softly, caressing his cheek gently and he gaped at you, admiration, awe and love swirling with the pure want in his eyes, concocting an addicting potion - befitting of a siren, you think, to cast a spell with just his eyes - before he surged forward, pressing a multitude of kisses across your face, suppressing his laugh as he swallowed harshly, audibly, your eyes trailing to his Adam’s apple as it bobbed with the gesture, quickly flicking back to his eyes as he flashed an impatient smile, his eyes storming over with clouds of desire, his grip on your waist tightening as he presses close, tilting his head such that his lips are brushing against yours, his canines catching on your earlobe.

♡₊˚ 🪼・ copyright @scribeofnight all rights reserved ;; do not copy, steal, plagarize, reword or repost to other platforms without proper permission || all credits to original owners and creators of the characters from the media + pictures that are not my own.

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lina-vas-dom · 3 months

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Золотится закат, с гор спускается вечер, Твой задумчивый взгляд обнимает за плечи. В синем небе Луна дарит нам свою нежность, В очертаниях сна колдовская безбрежность. Ночь укрыла мосты кашемировой шалью, Оживают мечты под прозрачной вуалью, Свет далекой звезды на седом небосклоне, Нам волшебные сны опустились в ладони. /Тамрико Каминохикари

The sunset is golden, the evening descends from the mountains, Your thoughtful gaze is on my shoulders. In the blue sky, the moon gives us its tenderness, In the outlines of sleep, a witch's immensity. Night covers the bridges with its cashmere shawl, Dreams come to life under a transparent veil, The light of a distant star in the gray sky, Magic dreams fall into the palms of our hands. /Tamriko Kaminohikari

#стихи современных авторов

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wannabanghwang · 3 months

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~Pillowtalk

was fighting demons for 2 months over whether or not to post this cause it’s kinda unfinished

Summary : hyunjin and Felix are models, and when they come over after a shoot a messy, hot threesome ensues followed by a whole bunch of fun sex related pillow talk that I loved writing (self indulgent)

Word count : 4.7k

Warnings : substance use, sex under the influence, unprotected sex, blowjobs, handjobs, all the jobs, bunch of dirty talk, mlm themes yup

Without further a due…

You were already a little drunk when you sent Hyunjin the message, two wine glasses deep as you hit send.

“Do you guys wanna come by my place after your shoot?”

You drag your hand through your long dark hair, letting your head fall back against the couch as the strap of your white silk slip slides down your shoulder. You tilt your head to look out the tall window of your apartment. The final few remnants of sunlight cling to the sky as the night creeps in. The sky is a blueish gray and there’s a slight chill in the air that makes you shiver as your phone dings.

“sure thing. want us to bring a line or two?” The reply reads. You smile slightly as you type.

“Pretty please if you can.”

“got u ;) see u soon lix says hi.” You smile, dropping your phone on the couch next to you. It was far from a habit, the drugs, but those two had a way of loosening you up every so often. They were much more accustomed to it than you, using it as a way to cope with their restrictive diets and packed schedules. When Felix texted you that they were on their way, a familiar nervous excitement filled your body. Them coming over was hardly new, but it never failed to make you jittery in anticipation. A while later you hear Felix’s rhythmic knock on your door. You grin, jumping up off the couch to let them in.

“Hi.” You say coyly as they step inside.

“Hi.” Hyunjin smirks, kissing your cheek as he snakes a hand around your waist.

You giggle, leaning into his touch.

“I hope we didn't keep you waiting too long.” Felix says, sliding his shoes off.

“Of course not.” You reply, using the moment to really take them in. The sharp lines of Hyunjins features and jaw. His long, jet black hair was tied half up, strands falling perfectly to frame his face. He wears a sheer black button up, adorned with lacy roses, complimenting his milky white skin. Felix looked so opposite, everything about him soft and angelic. The dusting of freckles across his pale cheeks, his white blonde hair and big brown eyes. He’s wearing a light green cashmere sweater that makes him look like a fairy. They trail behind you as you walk into the living room, dropping onto the floor next to the glass coffee table. Hyunjin across from you on the couch while Felix moves to sit next to you on the carpet. Hyunjin pulls a little baggie full of white powder from his pocket, shaking the contents around with a grin before tipping them onto the table.

“Hey google, play room on spotify.” Felix half shouts, having been around enough to have his voice connected to your sound system. A slow, sensual song starts to echo from the surrounding speakers.

“Setting the mood huh?” Hyunjin grins, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at Felix as he leans over his spread legs, reaching out his hand. Felix wordlessly hands him his black card, which he then uses to cut even lines for each of you. Hyunjin leans forward, dropping to his knees and tugging his hair back as he snorts his line. He grunts, throwing his head back and pinching his nose to prevent it from bleeding.

“Fuck.” He curses, shaking his head before sitting back down on the couch with a lazy grin.

“God, I'll never get tired of watching you do that.” You say, ogling him shamelessly, your jaw wide.

“Makes two of us.” Felix agrees, neither of you taking your eyes off Hyunjin who smiles at the praise, sinking back into the couch as he spreads his legs further.

“You two are so cute.” He coos, his eyes sparkling as they gloss over.

Felix’s hand rubs up and down your back as you take yours, whimpering a little when you finish, harshly wiping your nose.

“Agh.” You shake your head, scrunching your face, far less accustomed to the practice than the men before you. Felix giggles, leaning down in turn to snort his. He wipes his nose, grinning as he looks at you, his gaze flickering shamelessly to your plump pink lips. You grin, knowing exactly what he wants, more than happy to give it to him. Your fingers find his chin, bringing him ever so slightly forward enough for your lips to meet. You part your lips, eagerly letting his tongue explore your mouth. He pulls you forward so you’re on top of him straddling his lap, your knees digging into the soft carpet on either side of his thighs. The warm feeling inside you feels like it’s bubbling as you start subconsciously grinding against the growing tent in his tight pants.

“Okay now.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes, getting up from the couch. “You two done yet or what?” He grins, cocking his head in the direction of your bedroom. You quickly rise from Felix’s lap, hopping onto his back as he stands. He carries you to your room, your legs locked tightly around his waist, one of your hands linked to Hyunjins, who follows closely behind as you giggle. Felix drops you on the bed, rolling on top of you, your laughter echoing in the clouded daze. Hyunjin looms, standing at the edge of the bed, watching you guys with an amused expression. You playfully stick your foot out, pressing it against the semi forming in his pants. He grins down as Felix shuffles to sit on the edge of the bed in front of Hyunjin, eye to eye with the bulge in his pants. You follow suit quickly, sitting behind Felix, wrapping your arm around his waist as you softly slide your fingers underneath his sweater. Felix reaches up to slowly undo Hyunjins belt, letting it hang with a click. Hyunjin finishes the job, sliding it off in one smooth motion, letting it fall to the floor with a clink. Felix starts to unzip his pants before Hyunjins hand finds his head, stopping him.

“Take this off.” He breathes, a cool, sultry air in his tone as he tugs on Felix’s sweater. You help him pull it over his head, letting it fall to the floor, discarded alongside Hyunjins belt. You leave sweet kisses on the warm skin of his back and up his neck as he shivers. When he gets Hyunjins pants undone, he carefully undoes each button of his shirt, the loose, sheer material flowing at his sides. Felix’s hands wander shamelessly over the milky skin of Hyunjins toned, slim abdomen. He licks a stripe below Hyunjins navel with a grin as his fingers slip into his waistband. Hyunjins stomach flexes subconsciously as he grips Felix’s hair with a grunt. Felix tugs his boxers down enough for his cock to spring free, hitting his stomach. Precum beads at the tip, spilling onto his soft skin. Your mouth waters a little at the sight of him. Hyunjins cock is just like him, long, slim and way prettier than it needs to be. Unable to resist, you sit up on your high knees, reaching over Felix’s shoulder to grab hold of his length. His slender eyes stay narrowed as he watches you squeeze him, pumping him up and down slowly as before using your thumb to gather the precum from his tip. His lips part in awe as he watches you suck the sticky substance from your fingers with a smirk, returning to sit behind Felix.

“That was so fucking hot,” he grins, “you gonna do better than that Lix?” He teases, his thumb

tracing the blonde boy’s lips.

“He wishes, he can’t suck dick for shit.” You tease, poking Felix in the side.

“You can’t be talking, you have the worst gag reflex I’ve ever seen!” He retorts, turning his head to face you, laughing.

“It’s not even that bad.” You retort, rolling your eyes. “What do you think? It’s usually your dick anyway.” You say, turning your attention to Hyunjin as you raise your eyebrows suggestively.

“I dunno…maybe I need a memory refresher first…” he smirks teasingly, cupping Felix’s jaw to put himself in his mouth.

He groans, sliding slowly into Felix’s mouth, tangling his fingers in his blonde hair. You take this as a sign to start kissing Felix’s neck, your nails raking up and down his abdomen. You drag open mouthed kisses along his shoulders and back, your hand trailing to find the bulge in his pants.

“Off.” You mumble, tugging on the waistband as you suck in his neck. He pulls his head back briefly, releasing Hyunjin’s cock with a wet pop as it hits his stomach. You help Felix out of his pants and boxers quickly, leaving them to pool around one of his ankles as he sits back down.

“Why am I the naked one right now?” He questions, an innocent smile in his voice.

“We like you like this!” You giggle, pressing a kiss to his pink cheek.

“Yes we do.” Hyunjin smirks, his eyes raking up and down Felix’s body, who blushes further, the tips of his ears turning pink. Felix’s hand finds Hyunjins thigh, kneading the hard muscle as he licks a stripe up Hyunjins length. Meanwhile, you drag your hand down Felix’s abs, grabbing hold of his length. He groans around Hyunjins cock, who in turn mumbles a string of strangled curse words. You start to stroke him slowly, using his precum as lube. The following few minutes are a filthy mess of sounds. A mixture of groans, curse words and wet sounds fill the room, mingling with the slow, sensual music playing in the background. Felix pulls his head back, lulling it against your shoulder. A string of saliva connects his swollen pink lips to the tip of Hyunjins cock.

“Gonna cum, ‘s okay, don’t stop.” He mumbles, his eyes falling closed as he presses his face into your neck.

You keep your strokes steady, squeezing him every so often at the tip. He spreads his legs further, leaning up against you. You and Hyunjin make eye contact, smirking as he whines. You feel him twitch in your hand as a breathy “fuck” leaves his throat. White ropes of cum paint his belly and your hand, all three of your eyes falling to the rapid rise and fall of his stomach. You fall back onto the bed, pulling Felix with you. He’s panting as he sits up onto his elbows, opening his eyes. You stick your finger into a puddle of the cum coating his stomach, swirling it around.

“Ah fuck.” He says, shaking his head with a grin on his face.

“Lix, sit up against the bed frame.” Hyunjin says, gesturing towards it. He obeys shuffling backwards until his back hits the wood, stacking a few pillows behind him for comfort. Hyunjin walks around the side of the bed until he’s standing next to you and Felix before shedding his pants and boxers.

“You have such a cute butt.” You say, grinning as you watch him in the closet mirror behind him.

“I do not have a cute butt!” He says, shuffling to avoid being in the reflection.

“You totally have a cute butt.” You reach out to give it a smack but he catches your wrist in his hand, ruffling your hair.

“Shhh.” He grins, rolling his eyes in reply.

“C'mon take this off.” He says, tugging at the material of your silk slip. You pull it over your head, the chilly air hitting your bare skin. Hyunjin strokes his thumb over your hard nipple, cupping your breasts with his big hands.

“Those too.” He adds, looking at your lacy underwear. Hyunjin climbs over, joining Felix in the middle of the bed. He settles in between his legs on his knees with his back pressed to Felix’s chest.

“Cmere.” He smirks, raising his eyebrows as he taps his inner thigh between his spread legs. The fact that he’s still wearing the sheer, lacy black button up is ridiculously sexy for some reason. One side is hanging off his shoulder, the fabric pooling around his soft pale skin. His cock is flushed and rock hard against his belly, drooling precum onto the skin. You eagerly crawl over, your knees on either side of their thighs, hovering over Hyunjin’s cock. You kiss him first, his mouth opening to welcome your tongue immediately. Kissing Hyunjin is different from kissing Felix. Felix is gentle, it’s sweet and soft. Kissing Hyunjin is dirty, it’s a messy blur of lips and tongue, your salivas mixing as he bites your bottom lip. You grind down against his cock, the pressure feels delicious against your clit. You pull away from the kiss, tilting your head over his shoulder to kiss Felix. Hyunjins lips find your neck as you do this, whispering into your ear.

“Mm good girl, use me,” he purrs, his big hands finding your waist, helping you move against him. You moan into the kiss with Felix, pulling away and letting your head drop against Hyunjins bare shoulder.

“Can you cum like this before you ride me?” He whispers, sin laden in his tone.

You whimper a small “mhm” in response, grinding your hips desperately against his cock.

You wouldn’t normally be able to come like this, at least not this quickly, but something about the drugs in your system intensified every single nerve inside you, making you hornier and more desperate than you would ever be otherwise. He rolls his agile hips against you in time with your own needy thrusts. You feel the familiar heat pooling between your legs as you move against him faster, whining with each thrust.

“Fuck, ‘m cumming,” you whimper in his ear, your mouth wide open in ecstasy, drooling a little onto the warm skin of Hyunjins shoulder.

When your orgasm hits you it hits you hard, you’re panting, mumbling words that vaguely sound like Hyunjins name. He pulls you flush against him while he helps you ride out your high. You collapse against his chest, your sweaty skin sticking together as you try to calm your ragged breathing. You sit back, pressing your hands to his bare chest as you flip your hair back over your head.

“You’re so fucking hot it’s stupid.” You smile breathlessly, gazing in awe at Hyunjin. He smiles, looking down.

One thing you loved about Hyunjin was that he knew how desirable he was, but he didn’t let it get to his head. He carried himself with an air of casual confidence that was just so attractive. He simply owns the sexual power he knows he has. When he wants something, he doesn’t just know how to get it, he knows how to make you want to give it to him. Hyunjin reaches back to caress Felix’s head, who peppers kisses against his neck and jaw in return. You sit up, grabbing hold of his length with one hand, the other on his half clothed shoulder to steady yourself. You align him with your entrance, slowly sinking down onto his cock. He curses followed by a shallow grunt, letting his head fall back against Felix’s shoulder. You start to ride him slowly and shallowly, still trying to get used to his size inside of you. Fucking Hyunjin is also different from fucking Felix. Fucking Felix is usually slow, intimate and careful. Hyunjin on the other hand…

You two have a history. A long one. One full of breakups, arguments, parties, hookups, drugs, drunk texts and a whole lot of sex. You know each other's bodies better than you know your own at this point, your body endlessly receptive to Hyunjins touch. His eyes are glued to the spot where your bodies are joined, watching his length disappear inside of you over and over. His big hand comes to grip your waist tightly, guiding you up and down. The other finds your thigh, stroking it softly in tune with your movements. He rolls his hips expertly, his cock hitting that perfect one spot again and again as you ride him. You’re moaning, tangling your fingers in his hair as you kiss and bite his neck, trying to get as close as humanly possible. It’s dirty, your skin is sticky with cum and sweat, your hair is a mess, there are hands all over your bodies, Hyunjins, yours, Felix’s, grasping at every inch of bare skin. Hyunjin gazes up at you with big, fucked out doe eyes. A smirk finds his lips as he drags his tongue slowly over his teeth. He takes the hand holding your thigh and grabs one of yours off his shoulder, bringing it down to rest on your tummy. He pushes your hand down as he fucks into you, willing himself

deeper.

“Can you feel me here baby? Feel all of me?” He questions teasingly as you gasp, moaning.

“Yes, so,” you breathe, “fucking big.” You whine.

He’s hitting that one spot so deep inside of you it almost hurts, but the ache feels so good.

“I’m gonna cum.” Hyunjin groans breathlessly, letting his head fall back against Felix’s shoulder, who purrs, dragging his fingers up and down the sweaty skin of Hyunjin’s abs.

“You gonna let me cum inside you pretty? Hm?” He says, his eyes meeting yours as he lifts his head slightly.

All you can do is nod and mumble in response, moving against him faster and faster as you chase your high.

“Mmm,” he half chuckles. “That’s my girl.”

“Just like that, just like that, don't stop.” You mumble over and over.

A few more thrusts and Hyunjin is gripping your waist, holding you down as he fucks into you. You can feel the warm spurts of his release inside you as he shudders, cursing and groaning while Felix kisses his neck. You’re all breathing hard as Hyunjin slowly loosens his grip on your waist, the marks from his fingers sure to leave faint bruises. He laughs a breathy laugh as you sit up onto your high knees, sliding off of him as his softening cock lies flush against his belly. You flop down onto the bed, crawling to settle in between them both. For a few moments you all lay panting side by side. The room smells like sex and Hyunjins fingers toy with the stickiness between your legs. You push up onto your elbows, leaning down to either side to softly plant a kiss on either boy's shoulders before lying back down between them.

“I wanna hear some stories.” You say matter of factly, your eyes on the ceiling.

“What kind of stories?” Felix asks.

“Sex stories. Funny ones, hot ones, embarrassing ones…up to you guys.” you reply.

“Hmm.” Felix mumbles, adjusting himself to rest on his hands behind his head.

“I need a prompt first.” Says Hyunjin.

“Okay, the best orgasm you've ever had.” You reply after a brief moment of thought.

“That’s so hard,” Hyunjin says, contemplating. “That one time, after I cut my hair, like the undercut,” he starts. “When I came home and surprised you with it you sucked me off for like an hour and wouldn’t let me cum, but when you finally did I was convinced I actually saw heaven.”

“Oh my god I remember that, that was like, one of the sexiest hairstyles you’ve ever had.” You reply fondly, tucking a long black strand behind his ear. “This ones pretty sexy too, I will say.”

He grins, reaching over you to poke Felix in the side. “What about you Lix?” He questions.

“To be honest I think it was the first time I ever tried coke, after that one half naked shoot with the blue curtain fabric thing.” He chuckles, pointing to Hyunjin who also laughs at the memory.

“We went to this party after a shoot and one of the other models ended up coming back with Hyunjin and I to our room. She cut a few lines and those two did them no problem and then they looked at me kinda like “what are you waiting for” and I had to tell them I’d never tried it. My nose started bleeding and I was so embarrassed, but Hyunjin just wiped it off while she went down on me. I was so disoriented but it felt so good and I came so hard.” Felix blushes, wincing slightly as he smiles.

“We ended up fucking while Lix just kind of sat at the table half watching half knocked out.” Hyunjin giggles, ruffling the blonde boy's hair.

“What about you?” Felix says, turning his attention to you.

“Hmm,” you say, mulling it over in your head. “I went on a trip for two weeks with my girl friends and I didn’t touch myself once the entire time, so when I got back he went down on me for ages, I think I came three times.” You blush, shyly covering your face as Hyunjin laughs.

His fingers paint shapes on your belly with his own cum, collecting it from between your thighs before trailing it up and over your navel.

“How did you two even start the whole threesome thing together?” You question curiously, “I can’t believe I’ve never asked this before.” You add, kind of shocked.

“Welll…” Felix starts, trailing off with a laugh as him and Hyunjin make eye contact.

Hyunjin winces slightly, rubbing his eyes. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“Like a long one.” Felix adds.

“It’s okay, we’ve got time.” You shrug. “Plus, I wanna hear it now.”

“Okay, well in highschool we were pretty close, we danced under the same company for years and we hung out sometimes.” Felix starts. “I kind of had a crush on him cause like…well, look at him.” He adds, grinning as you both turn to look at Hyunjin who smiles as a blush creeps up his cheeks.

“But at that time I wasn’t even entirely sure of my own sexuality, let alone Hyunjins, and every time we talked he’d be on about some girl he was hooking up with or seeing, so I kinda figured there was no chance there.” Felix continues, looking between you both.

“I was kind of a slut in highschool.” Hyunjin deadpans, looking at you before Felix continues.

“But this one night he slept over at my house cause my parents were out of town and we got talking while we smoked a joint. We were sitting on the roof outside of my room and he asked me if I’d ever kissed a guy, I said yes and then asked him if he ever had. He said no, but he would, which kinda took me by surprise. The next time I passed him the joint he blew smoke into my mouth and then kissed me and to this day it was one of the hottest fucking things someone’s ever done to me.” Felix smirks, looking at Hyunjin who chastely kisses his knuckles as he winks.

“That story is both so cute and so sexy. I'm intrigued, do tell me more.” You say, grinning as you cuddle up to Hyunjin, both of your eyes on Felix.

“High School was a little wild, but it was tame compared to Uni.” Hyunjin begins, continuing the story. “I was also kind of a slut in Uni. Especially first year.” He adds, making Felix laugh.

“We kind of just experimented a lot.” Felix adds, shrugging.

“Then in Uni, I had this girl over in my dorm cause I thought Lix wouldn’t be back until later, but he walked in at like 10 pm cause some girl spilled her drink on him and he had to change. It was actually her idea, she asked me if I thought he’d wanna join and I said it had never occurred to me but sure. I called down the hall and was like “Yo come here!” Hyunjin laughs, throwing his head back.

Before he can continue, Felix interjects. “Just to reiterate that is actually what he said.” He says with a wide eyed smile, reaching his hand over at Hyunjin as he speaks.

“That is the least sexy proposition I’ve maybe ever heard?” You say teasingly, laughing alongside them both.

“You and me both.” Felix grins, rolling his eyes as he continues the story. “I went into his room to see what he wanted and this girl was literally on her knees in front of him and he just casually goes “come here” so I was like…okay.” He says, shrugging with a small laugh. “We kissed for a bit and then, well I dunno, I was kinda drunk to be honest but we all fucked around for awhile until she left. Then we kinda just started doing it from time to time, usually after parties until he introduced me to you.” He finishes with a wink and a gentle poke to your side.

“My pretty girl.” Hyunjin grins, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“I have one,” Felix continues, sitting up onto his elbows. “What’s the story of your first time?”

This makes Hyunjin laugh and you cringe at the memory.

“It was so bad.” You whine, dragging your hands over your face. “I was in highschool, I think I was 15 and I lost it to my first real boyfriend. He came over one day while my parents weren’t home and we were messing around and he asked if I wanted to have sex and I was like sure. It hurt like a bitch and he came in like 30 seconds and then asked me if I finished. I didn’t.” You say rolling your eyes and sighing as you flop back down.

Felix laughs. “Having sex in highschool makes you feel so grown up and mature until you get older and realize how bad the sex you were having actually was.”

This makes you and Hyunjin both laugh. “Cheers to that.” He replies, throwing his head back.

“I lost mine to my pre calc tutor when I was in like grade eleven. She was two years older than me and to be honest it was great.” Hyunjin says, grinning as he wiggles his eyebrows. “I was on the verge of failing because I was practicing so much I didn’t have time for most of my schoolwork. I also just hated my pre calc teacher. They got me a tutor from one of the colleges and she was smoking hot. My grades actually did get better after a few sessions but I honestly only remember the one where she asked me if I’d ever gotten head and I said yes and then she asked me if I had ever had sex and I said no. She asked me if I wanted to and being the sixteen year old boy I was, I said yes. It was awesome, no regrets, great first time.”

You laugh and roll your eyes. “I wonder if she thought it was as great as you did.” Which makes Felix chuckle.

“Definitely not.” Hyunjin grins, folding his arms behind his head. “This is fun, give us more.”

“Hm, okay,” you think, “what’s a kink you have or something that turns you on?”

“How much time do you have?” Hyunjin jokes, cocking his eyebrow.

“I like getting my hair pulled.” Felix says, grinning.

“Mmmm.” Hyunjin hums in agreement. “Hurts so good.”

“I think seeing and feeling the bulge when we fuck is the hottest thing in the universe, like it makes me wanna cum on the spot.” You whine, twirling a lock of Hyunjins hair as you look back and forth between them.

“I like that too, sometimes I actually have to try not to cum on the spot.” Hyunjin replies, grinning. “I’m kind of into recording now? I’ve jerked off to the video of you giving me head at least 10 times. It's amazing.” He winks at you. “Guys, let's make a sex tape. Please.” He whines, wiggling his eyebrows at Felix.

“With what?” He raises his eyebrows, amused.

“I have an old camcorder.” Hyunjin grins as Felix rolls his eyes.

“I dunno…sounds pretty adventurous.” He replies teasingly, his eyebrows raised.

“Being in front of a camera is hardly adventurous for either of you.” You snort

“Ok but fucking in front of one is.” Felix retorts, playfully smacking you on the shoulder.

“I’ll bring it next time we come over.” Hyunjin winks, pressing a kiss to your forehead and then to Felix’s shoulder.

#hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin #hyunjin smut #skz smut #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids hyunjin #skz hwang hyunjin #skz felix #felix smut #lee felix smut #hyunlix #hyunlix smut

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moethewriter · 4 months

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Hello hello I hope you recover well from your stomach flu take your time writing this one and if you don't write it that's fine too. But can I get a jealous finnick x reader. Wishing you all the best for nice and speedy recovery

-Anon 🦋

Of course you can anon! Glad to see you requesting again <3 TITLE: Jealousy, Jealousy WORD COUNT: 1.1k PAIRING: Finnick Odair x Reader WARNING: Mentions of what Snow does to certain victors and all that terrible stuff. general mentions of hunger games violence TAGS: GN!Reader from District Four A/N: I am fully recovered and back to work guys! So feeling much better, and glad to be getting back to writing! Short and sweet this one, but it was fun writing it. Thanks again for the request, and as always I take constructive critisicm! Not beta read as per usual!

The stars were hardly visible in The Capitol, and that was one of your least favourite things. In 4 you had always been able to look up at the stars and feel some sense of comfort from them. But here, with the lights and the business of it all … they were but a mere speck in the sky, never shining as bright as you wanted.

You were alone, in the gardens of Snow’s mansion after he had called you to The Captiol. Snow was nothing if not a master of selling his precious little things. You, Finnick … and anyone who he deemed beautiful enough to be worthy of someone’s time. You weren’t a fool, though many believed you to be, you were well aware of the true intentions behind this party and why you were there. At least the champagne was good, sweet and tart and all of the right things, something that was hard to come by in Four.

“Rough day?”

“Gloss.” You smiled, turning to one of your fellow Victors, sipping the champagne in your hand.

You didn’t know much of Gloss or his sister Cashmere, you knew enough and that was that. You weren’t sitting around braiding hair and sharing gossip with your fellow Victors, you’d rather forget your time in the games than play pretend with people. You had admired Gloss and Cashmere once upon a time, knowing they were going through the same things you were, and how strong they seemed. But you preferred your little bubble with Finnick, Mags and Annie, that’s just what you preferred, much to many people's displeasure.

“Standing out here all alone, no company to keep you warm?” He questioned, sipping his own champagne, a charming smile plastered across his face.

“Much rather be alone than be with anyone in there.” You told him, placing the glass on the stone of the fountain in front of you.

Being from Four, the water had always calmed you.

You turned to the man, and smiled towards him. Gloss was what many considered handsome, and strong. Someone who would fight for you and keep your bed warm. You wouldn’t lie, he was gorgeous, so was his sister but your heart belonged to another. Your heart belonged to Finnick Odair. He had been the one to send you into the Hunger Games and he had been the first to greet you when you had been declared the winner

You remembered that day well. The metallic smell stuck in your nose as you were led back to The Capitol. You had been caked in dirt, blood and anything else you had picked up over the three weeks you had been in the games. But Finnick had kissed you, he had held you and loved you even when you couldn’t love yourself. You never felt that you could truly repay him for that, but he always insisted he just needed you.

“Even me?” Gloss chuckled, walking to stand by you.

“Even you.” You confirmed, gently bumping his shoulder.

“Hey.”

You turned around and your smile brightened.

There stood Finnick, dressed to the nines, escaping from a flock of women that he clearly didn’t want to be with. Finnick had always been considered beautiful, desirable and someone you wanted in The Capito. He hadn’t known anything else in years, and that was heart wrenching to think about.

“What’s going on here?” His smile was tight as he placed an arm around your waist, a firm grip to your hip.

“Having a conversation, Finnick.” Gloss cleared his throat, taking a sip of the champagne. “It’s something that two people do to get to know one another.” Gloss was snippy in his remarks, which made you frown.

“Well, the conversation is over.” Finnick deemed, shooting Gloss a nasty look. “Besides, Cashmere was looking for you earlier … She seemed paler than normal. Should probably go and check on her Gloss, wouldn’t want her to be sick in front of the President.” Finnick turned his nose up at the thought.

“It was nice chatting with you, Y/N, we should do it again sometime.” Gloss said, glaring towards Finnick. “Unlike this one … I have some tact and can probably hold a better conversation.” He huffed, storming back towards the party.

Once he was out of sight you whirled on Finnick. “What was that?” You demanded, removing yourself from his arms, annoyed.

“Nothing.” Finnick said, casually sipping on his champagne. He was clearly relieved that Gloss was gone.

“Come on, Odair.” You snorted. “I’ve known you for almost twelve years, you can’t act dense in front of me.” You tapped your foot, lightly.

“I didn’t like that he was flirting with you.” Finnick admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t like that guy, Y/N. I have never liked him and he clearly wants you and so I had to intervene!” He said.

“Finnick.” You laughed, lightly. “Gloss may have been flirting with me, but he is not the one in my bed at the end of the night. You have nothing to worry about … don’t be so jealous over guys like him. No one can hold a candle to you.” You reached out and gently took his hands.

“He just makes me so angry!” Finnick glared towards the door, squeezing your hand. “Thinking he can walk out here and make small talk and win you over, it’s disgusting and if there weren't prying eyes all around us I’d have him on the ground to remind him that you are taken.” He said, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“Well.” You said, tossing the fine china in your hands off into the bushes, not caring if anyone saw. “You don’t have anything to worry about, okay? Remember that you are the one I choose … always and forever.” You moved to wrap your arms around his neck

He leaned in and slotted his mouth against yours, the warmth of his lips warming up your far more cold and chapped ones. Kissing Finnick was like tasting fresh honey, the liquid gold substance filling your senses, and the smoothness bringing you peace and sweetness.

“Promise?” He whispered into your lips.

“I promise.” You whispered back. “Though I never took you for the jealous type.” You giggled.

“Shut up.” He laughed, bumping his nose against yours.

“Wait until I tell Mags and Annie.” You snorted, pulling away from him.

“Wait! Y/N! No!”

“Try and catch me, Odair!” You chuckled hurrying off into the fray of the party.

You were thankful for him, in so many ways but that didn’t mean you weren’t above teasing him, and if he never lived it down …

Well that wasn’t on you.

#writing #moeswriting #hunger games #the hunger games #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #angst #fluff

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trulybetty · 3 months

Text

x29 valentines

Sooo, I'm in a bit of a funk with my writing, but also itching to write something. So we're going back to what's worked in the past, throwing stuff at the wall and seeing if it sticks. So we're going to forget me saying I wasn't going to do any more prompts any time soon 🤭

So 29 Valentine themed drabbles, with no hard rules. May or may not be posted consistently, but mostly fluff and however they turn out 💕

x. ao3 x. prompt source

01 x love letter - dieter x bryony (ofc)

02 x birds - frankie x reader

03 x snowfall - marcus pike x reader

04 x dinner date - tim rockford x reader

05 x mirror - joel x reader (au)

06 x sky - jack x reader (au)

07 x chocolates - frankie x reader

08 x poem - marcus pike x reader

09 x rainbow - dieter x bryony (ofc)

10 x cards - javi peña x reader

11 x dream - ben (snl) x reader

12 x ring - joel x f!reader

13 x mountains - frankie x clementine (ofc)

14 x kisses - jack x reader (au)

15 x cashmere - joel x reader (pre-outbreak)

16 x dance - tim x reader

17 x roses - joel x reader (au)

18 x heart candies - dieter x bryony (ofc)

19 x gifts - joel x charlotte (ofc)

20 x cupcakes - marcus pike x reader

21 x diary - dieter x bryony (ofc)

22 x carousel - tim x reader

23 x watercolor - marcus p. x reader

24 x love language - frankie x reader

25 x rainday - tim x reader

26 x cabin - joel x reader

27 x envelope - marcus pike x f!reader (maplewood)

28 x ribbons - jack x reader

29 x pink cadillac - jack x reader

#frankie morales #marcus pike #tim rockford #jack whiskey daniels #javier peña #mr. ben (snl)#joel miller #dieter bravo #x29 valentines #pascal character fanfiction #back on my bullshit #we're playing fast and loose with this one

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wmarximoff · 1 year

Text

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 | 𝐰. 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟

summary: no one needs to know that the president of the most admired sorority on campus has a crush on you.

warnings (18+): a brief smut, Wanda cussing like a mean girl, R being a little shit, slight corruption if you squint. MINORS DNI.

pairing: sorority!Wanda x dirtbag!reader

word count: 3k

A/N: this is definitely not my best work by far, but I'm testing the tone of sorority!Wanda until I can write her in a way I like, so whoever reads this will be my test subjects lol

masterlist|

༺ᱬ༻

A pale and motley patch of white sunbeams smearing the glass of a nearby window was what captured your attention for a few bits of seconds that, together, would complete more than the whole of a minute. The window opened to the blue sky outside, to the large green trees rooted there near the building in a healthy lawn, with brownish and thick trunks spaced by stripes of daylight that sent a forest air to that specific region of the campus, which used to be well ventilated.

A deep yawn was stifled by a mouth just behind your head, both your elbows raised across the face of the hard plastic table. In the middle of that spring semester, the white-painted walls of the tapering classroom, which inclined down in steps from student seats that sloped toward Professor Harkness's rectangular desk, into a lesser concavity when pitted against the chairs of the students, they looked chubbier and sunnier than usual, which is why you had to wear light clothing with few layers to make it through that class until the end of the term without sweating to the point of dehydration.

“Shit...” was the tiniest curse uttered under your breath.

The friction caused by the tip of your pen across the paper ended up writing an inexact word in your fast informal handwriting, which you, annoyed, tried to cover up with an eager flick of the wrist towards the right. A wide thin line had slipped above the dashed letters in dark blue ink – because you saw yourself viscerally unhappy about your succinct spelling error (since it is written “economy”, and never “econonomy”). Several other students eagerly tapped their fingers on laptop keyboards (clatter of keys pounding across the classroom), but something nostalgic in you preferred to stick with good old paper and ink.

After scribbling such inaccuracy into your handwritten notes, you resumed your transcripts of what was taught by your teacher, trying to record the minimum necessary. You chewed gum with a cinnamon-synthesized flavor, a customary practice. A pen rolled and clattered to the floor, and then someone reached down to pick it up.

Your committed gaze, therefore, migrated from the articulated writings in your notebook to the professor's figure in front of the rest of the room, leaning with her hip against her long and low table, facing a certain handful of vivacious and diligent students. Agatha Harkness kind of reminded you of the Wicked Witch of the West from the Wizard of Oz – maybe it was her long, thin nose, or the exotic mannerism of her hands.

“So, ladies and gentlemen, to fully understand Austen's novels it’s first important to understand the finer points about economics and mid-nineteenth-century class relations that are portrayed in the relationships between characters in several of her works.”

Blustered Miss Harkness with her thick chestnut locks, her cashmere waistcoat looking more violet than usual on this hot sunny day, her arms clasped close to her ribcage, her cream-colored button-up shirt with the sleeves perched up to her elbows.

“It's not just about dating and marriage or strong female characters that this work is about, however that is what some uninformed people out there might assume. Of course, female empowerment is a crucial part of these novels, but it’s actually important for us to recognize the irrefutable fact that Austen has always dealt with social classes in her works, and because of this she is full of important economic themes that can be pointed out by the reader. Does anyone know what I'm talking about, people? Somebody? Anybody?”

You kind of chortled to yourself, reaching into your chair for a more comfortable position than had ever been found. You could well respond to such an inquiry, so much so that you could presage the formulation of the words that climbed your throat and lodged at the tip of your tongue, prepared to be pronounced in front of the rest of the class. But you just knew there was someone else who would be frothing to answer that question.

The right hand raised in the air, greedy for the intellectual realms of the demanded explanation, had not been yours at all. And silently, just an unimportant listener, you waited for the well-known answer to come, never exposing yourself any further than was necessary like a withdrawn, flowing animal of self-preservation and self-doubt, a silly little smile forming the outline of your lips.

“Yes, Miss Maximoff ?” Agatha pointed with her chin at a few tables behind yours, two steps up from where you were. Her neck craned back, and air seized her lungs in anticipation.

Wanda Maximoff, self-absorbed and with a shrewd, focused countenance, could be found just a tiny amount of meters uphill from where you were located. She was liked, adored and revered, a name passed around campus with airs of admiration, high in the social hierarchy of sororities and fraternities around the university. She had kind green eyes, but the kind of kindness that shouldn't be confused with naivete, something Wanda didn't have at all.

She was a president, the most prudent of them all, appealing even to the eyes of the university who were excluding or not adept at the Greek way of life, known for leading the chapter where some of the girls who turned heads around resided. She was a necessity, a public figure among other young people her age. And, in front of her, you smiled small. She was the most beautiful girl you would ever meet in your life.

Among your many other classmates scattered throughout the classroom, she was the only one wearing high black stockings under a pleated skirt checked in a gray fabric, highlighting the soft skin of her legs so strictly stunning and painstaking.

The long, dark locks were thus partially held back from covering her stunning face, tucked behind the shells of her ears. Fingers with polished black enamel nails, pale extensions adorned with silver rings of the most variegated shapes and sizes, parked the digits over a keyboard of a small portable computer placed right in front of her.

Her wardrobe always looked like a venustic mix of Cher Horowitz clothes and Nancy Downs accessories, choosing to constantly alternate between the two extremes of preppy and dark, usually finding herself somewhere in the middle of the two.

“Most of Austen's characters can be classified as belonging to the middle class of society, and she has never had a problem portraying the inequality between them and members of other social classes, both lower and higher,” irises jadish seethed in a well-educated glow, since it came as no surprise to anyone just how enthusiast of Jane Austen literature Wanda Maximoff could be.

“In fact, Austen's novels portray various socio-economic factors in 19th century Britain, specifically in matters of wealth and poverty and the values of coins at the time, as well as how much capital these people could have even at that time. It was never just about love and marriage.”

Wanda finished off in superb mastery by flashing an exultant little smile, scrunching a patch of skin from her nose like a fluffy little bunny, exuding airs of quite self-satisfaction. When her emerald gaze engaged yours across that sea of heads, you offered her a funny wink with your right eye, to which Wanda only chuckled and shook her head provocatively.

“You are absolutely correct, Miss Maximoff,” Professor Harkness greeted the student proudly from the front of the students as she stood, “I couldn't have said it myself in better words than that.”

You just rolled your eyes in their sockets playfully, resting your chin in the palm of your right hand whose elbow was supplanted by the face of the table. Someday Agatha would still end up adopting Wanda if she could.

ᗢ

“Oh fuck , Y/n!” The lascivious voice growled, reverberating, like a breath of apex, through the walls of the second-floor women's restroom of the university's Languages and Literature building.

“Just like that baby, oh–!” Wanda trapped her bottom lip with her own incisors, confining a moan to the deepest core of her being, her two inner thighs constricting her ears almost deafeningly.

Even that same morning after the classroom, with the emptiness there, a faucet dripping, only the linoleum floor could hear the hums uttered by a breathless Wanda, with her mouth tightened and her face burning in red embers like a peach in her sharp cheekbones, feeling just as satisfied as you prolonged her peak smearing your entire face in erratic movements of her taut hips.

You rubbed her swollen clit against your upper lip, that little knot of nerves squirming blindly in search of prolonging that sensation of pleasure that seeped into her bones, the plaid skirt sharply bunched below her navel. The two of you were squeezed into a bathroom stall, you on your knees and she sprawled all over the sides of that tight little space.

“Fuck,” Wanda gasped in a blink of slow eyelids, very sparingly holding your head against her pussy with the open palm of her right hand, “Fuck, baby…”

Ring-wrapped fingers found themselves fondling between the roots of your hair, the other girl's head hunched back, her lip gloss smudged. When you, as serene as you could be in the face of the beautiful sight of her orgasm, sank your teeth into a light open bite on her inner thigh just to make fun of her, Wanda moaned sensitively and increased her grip of deferred fingers against the roots of your hair.

“N-no,” she squealed in a breathless fashion, her brow creased like someone in pain, “No more, please, I can't take any more.”

“Okay, fine,” you smiled before gracing the bite mark with a slightly swashbuckling chaste kiss, a silent apology so close to her abused cunt dripping in a hangover of pleasure, “I want you to walk out of here with your own legs.”

You, kneeling down to her level, turned your face away from the gap between Wanda's opalescent crotch, still pulsing on your tongue the vigorous taste of the juice coming from her pulsing vagina – the skin down your chin and around your mouth completely burnished in a brilliant radiance from the president's overwhelming orgasm just above your head, chest heavy into her thin fabric blouse, uneven breathing and vaguely wobbly knees.

You scrambled to your feet, stretching your knees inside your baggy jeans, not much to say after accomplishing your mission but offering the sorority girl a smug crooked smile, bringing your knuckles up to sweep away the wetness out of your face. Wanda looked even prettier being panting and flushed after you wrung an orgasm out of her guts.

“My God, pretty girl,” you bit back a smile at the commission of your glossy lips by her cum in a brief tone of astonishment, “You really made a whole mess of my face, huh–”

“Shut your pretty fucking mouth, you're pissing me off.”

Before you could even entertain the idea of cleaning yourself with soap and water, however, a hand pressed the skin on the back of your neck and, in a reckless way, pulled you into a rough kiss, Wanda going forward toward your face sipping from her own orgasm built up by your mouth. And then, a tongue emerged between the pulps of her lips, dragging itself through the commission of your mouth, so much more ecstatic after an extravagant orgasm.

As you parted when oxygen was needed in your burning lungs, you blinked slightly foolishly, so that both your noses were almost touching in midair as Wanda smiled voluptuously at your lethargic blinks, her upper lip pressing lightly on her rosy, somewhat puffy lower lip.

The dark gazes screwed into an invisible line, the verdant darkness taking pleasure in your goofy silence, amused by your silliness. Wanda smiled catlike, the soft fingers of digits stroking the skin from the nape of your neck just below your hairline.

“Well,” you lisped somewhat not knowing what to say under your breath, “Maybe you don't need to walk out of here on your own two legs exactly…”

And your mischievous right hand threatened to touch her again, making your way to the center of her thighs, but as overstimulated as she was, she was firm in preventing you from squeezing her one more time before your fingers crossed the hem of her skirt.

“Don't you even dare to start,” the girl finally walked away, barely managing to unfold the skirt from her upper thighs and smooth the creased fabric with her fingertips before pushing the laminate door out, her lacy panties vaguely forgotten inside the back pocket of your jeans.

“I need to study for a test because you know, unlike you I really care about my grades. We value our good academic performance at Omega Mu Zeta and I am their president, so I–”

“You need to set a good example, yeah, I know.”

Wanda, however, just threw you a glare over her shoulder, as flippant as could be, “You're annoying.”

You rolled your eyes out of their sockets dazedly before following Wanda's sweetly woody scent out of the bathroom stall. That girl was your personal glory, but she would be your undoing at some point in the near future.

“C’mon pretty girl, my grades are pretty good, if you really wanna know,” you propped your hips low beside the pale china sink she was standing in front of, taking in your own appearance reflected in that rectangular mirror on the wall.

“Not being a teacher's pet doesn't necessarily mean I'm a bad student, y’know? That's a very bad impression you have of me, it's almost even offensive.”

“Fuck you,” she stared at her own reflection in the mirror, fixing, with the tips of her fingernails painted in dark nail polish, the cherry gloss on her lips, “I'm not a teacher's pet, I just work hard in understanding the subject. Unlike you.”

You smiled, scrutinizing the sight of the emerald-eyed girl reflected in the mirror – and how beautiful she was, Wanda Maximoff with her cherry lip gloss.

“I certainly have not the talent which some people possess, of converting easily with those I have never seen before,” you recited aloud, your gaze never letting go of hers which, by the reflection in the mirror, turned all emerald attention to her figure with arms crossed before her chest.

“I cannot catch their tone of the conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.”

Wanda then turned her face towards him, and one dark brow creased mockingly towards the middle of her forehead. The makeup was very little, accentuating her natural beauty by her cheekbones and jawline curved around the edges, and the dark eyeliner was always sharp, done with exquisite mastery over the almond-shaped eyelids.

“Did you just recite a line from Pride and Prejudice to me just to prove you know what you're talking about?” she smiled a little at your boldness.

“Maybe,” you shrugged smugly.

“That doesn't prove shit.”

“Proves that I’ve read the book,” you offered her a mocking brow lift.

“How old are you, you idiot, five?”

“Six actually,” you kind of chuckled in return, “But then, did it work? Did I impress you?”

Wanda looked at you for a studious half second, scrutinizing your figure with smart green eyes shimmering the color of summer grass.

“I hate you, you little shit.”

With intensity similar to the magnetic pull of a magnet, Wanda stepped forward with her white boot and took your face from the sides with both hands, merging your lips in a rhythmic kiss in harmonic cadence, which quickly made you whimper in dizzying contentment sharpened through your veins. Lovingly, you allowed yourself a smile at the corner of her pink lips, your heart pounding in the right side of your chest as her forearms laced tightly around the outline of your neck.

The kiss deepened into a need, their tongues twining until they were both panting softly, wet foreheads touching each other. You smiled mischievously against the commission of Wanda's swollen lips.

“My room on Friday after school?” you breathed in front of her face, “Darcy is going out with someone, so... I'll have the room all to myself.”

“Y/n,” Wanda whistled your name, her frown creasing slightly at your not-so-innocent suggestion, “I really have to study for that test, you know Mr. Pym is a real dictator in his classes–”

“And who says we are going to do anything other than study?” you smiled complacently, “Geez, Wanda, that perverted mind of yours goes everywhere, doesn't it? And here I thought you were a good girl, who knew you had that in you?”

“Stupid,” she twirled with her eyes comical, bent wrists resting above your shoulders, “Seriously, I need to keep my grades up—”

But the phrase died in her throat when voices could be heard in loud laughter pouring through the bathroom's main entrance, away from the secluded area of prying eyes where you belonged together. And at that notion something shriveled and deflated inside your chest. You actually looked forward as little as you could to those moments out of situations where you could rob her of the rest of the outside world, because that meant the fantasy was coming to an end.

Wanda was the respected president of Omega Mu Zeta, she was a social figure, she was anything she could be, except being yours. She was nobody's, indeed, but that also said she wasn't yours. But when she threatened to draw her body heat away from your torso, you kept your solemn grip firm on her hips through the fabric of her gray skirt, pinning her in place.

“Y/n,” she tried, hands squeezing your shoulders, a warning that reality was piercing sharply into that little bubble that encompassed you and her.

"Friday night? C'mon pretty girl, please? We'll just study, I promise. Girl Scout word.”

A brief shadow of conflict seemed to glide through the swirls of emerald irises, deepening that clear hue of her eyes, before Wanda tipped her chin back over her left shoulder covered by a blazer with a matching print and skirt, searching for an onlooker who wasn't there, only then to turn to your face and, in such a way, sigh a lame sigh before your expectant gaze. You always brought down all the resistance she seemed to want to lift.

“Okay,” Wanda relented, her shoulders slumping into the plaid blazer, “Okay, Friday after school. But as long as it's for us to actually study, you hear me? And I mean it.”

“Sure,” you muttered in jovial good humor, “We'll study, trust me.”

“Seriously, Y/n, no jokes,” a pair of glossy velvety lips pressed against the contour of your jawbone, right next to your pierced earlobe, “Or you're going to regret this,” Wanda it whispered on a warm breath, before there it plunged a painful bite into your epidermis.

A tiny squeak of pain piped out of your throat, shrugging your shoulder closer to your jaw and away from the other girl's half-open mouth, “Ouch Wanda, what the hell, what did you do that for?!”

“For you to remember to behave yourself,” she smiled with a darkly mischievous gleam, “Now I really have to go, baby. I text you on Friday.”

And then Wanda walked away, and with her went the enticing aroma of woody perfume mixed with strawberry dry shampoo, a fragrance that couldn't be described in any other way than just scarlet, closed, imposing and absolutely sexy in the right dosage. But the next person who squealed in pain was the president herself, whereupon you playfully raised your right forearm to deliver a slap of stiff, splayed fingers against the smooth skin of her panty-less ass beneath her pleated skirt, rocking the fabric of the short garment.

When Wanda tipped her chin back to curse you under her breath “Asshole,” the tops of both her cheeks gleaming in a caustic blush, you just grinned mischievously with your tongue sticking out between your teeth. And so, you knew that on that Friday, she would pay a visit to your room. After all, you didn't need more than that.

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