#(and one that wash finds solace in)
Text
my first and last (m)
pairing lee jeno x reader
word count 37k
synopsis meet lee jeno, campus heartbreaker, fuckboy, secret nerd. he’s the notorious guy that everyone wants but he only wants you —a shy, introverted stranger who appeared from nowhere, turning his life upside down. what starts as a reputation-defying connection swiftly evolves from strangers to friends and to intense, immediate love. it’s a twist the two of you never saw coming, the opening of your hearts to someone unexpected. but as personal struggles and external issues threaten to derail your connection, the once-confident jeno is left shattered and ensnared in the tumult of a love story gone awry.
chapter warnings first love au, irrelevant exes, explicit language, swearing, mentions of intense anxiety, drugs, alcohol, your average college au, opposite of slow burn, fluff which will make you scream, romantic jeno, loving jeno, a jeno who doesn’t really gaf about anyone but his girl, sweet boyfriend jeno, bestie yeonjun, yn and jeno paired for a uni project, touchy jeno, oral sex (receiving), throat fucking, blow job, hard dom jeno, sub reader, soft dom jeno, choking, riding, most loving kisses, reader sits on jenos face hehe, cute sex under the starlight on jenos trunk, jeno who rips off lingerie, protective jeno, jeno is horny, and a lot, his emotions, heart are all 110%, rough sex, choking, dirty talk, cute dates, girls who are bitches to yn :(, a jeno who gets so heartbroken and done dirty you’ll feel bad! gift giving, romantic gestures bf jeno
genre smut, fluff, angst, strangers to friends to lovers, opposites attract
please leave asks !!
check out the mfal ml here includes text posts, never seen before scenes and behind the scenes content <;3
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Walking onto campus, you take in the sights of the renowned university. The buildings exude academic excellence, and the lush greenery adds a touch of serenity. Despite the early hour, the campus is alive with students hurrying by, creating a vibrant atmosphere.
Heading towards the director's office, you enter the building, sensing the prestige in the air. Portraits of distinguished alumni line the walls, and the marble-floored corridor echoes with the soft sounds of footsteps.
As you approach the director's office, you're called in for your meeting, and a wave of nervousness washes over you. You keep your head low, arms crossed over your body and walking steadily calculated. You instinctively avoid making prolonged eye contact with others, instead of maintaining a steady gaze, your eyes started to dart away, seeking solace in the periphery.
The director's office door swings open, revealing Johnny Suh, a figure synonymous with success in the academic world. Young, rich, and undeniably handsome, his reputation precedes him. Though you hadn't initially seen the appeal, you find yourself momentarily awestruck by his commanding presence, his handsomeness leaving you astonished.
He spent a few minutes welcoming you to the University, giving some background information and useful tips that you were incredibly thankful for. Then the conversation takes a swift turn.
"Y/N, I hear you're one of the top psychology students in the country.” Johnny remarks, his voice carrying an air of authority that matches his status.
Humbled but unable to deny the truth, you nod in acknowledgment. "I'm honoured you acknowledge that.”
"It's your first day here, and I know you're probably not expecting this, but I see high potential in you," Johnny continues. "I wouldn't recommend this if I didn't believe you could handle it. It's going to be tough, but your strong work ethic, dedication, and time management will be of great assistance."
Confusion clouds your expression as Johnny hints at a challenge ahead. Before any clarification can be offered, the door swings open again, revealing a figure you immediately find intriguing. He enters with an air of nonchalance. His hooded eyes, half-asleep gaze, and ruffled, messy hair add to his effortlessly handsome appearance.
Dressed casually yet impeccably, his cheeks are hollow, and his sharp jawline gives him an alluring edge. There's an enigmatic darkness about him that you can't quite explain but find strangely magnetic. His attire is a perfect blend of casual and put together, highlighting his innate sense of style.
He looks right at you, and his gaze is captivating and strong. You feel an unexpected flutter as your eyes meet, his presence leaving an indelible mark on your first day. As your eyes meet, a surge of surprise flickers in his gaze, and you, feeling an unexpected flutter, try to conceal the sudden shyness.
He takes the vacant seat beside you, eyes not leaving yours and you almost feel your heart stop. He’s even more breathtaking in person. His allure is heightened, perhaps by the subtle nuances of his expressions, the captivating way he carries himself,
“You’re new?” he asks, his voice low and thick with a hint of weariness.
You nod, meeting his intense gaze. “Y/N.”
“Jeno.” he replies, a small smile playing on his lips.
Professor Suh stood at the front of the room, "Welcome, Y/N and Jeno. I'm thrilled to have you both on board for this groundbreaking project that merges engineering and psychology, your respective majors. Your unique skill sets will be crucial in creating something truly impactful."
“Jeno, your unexpected excellence in engineering sets you apart without the need for boasting. Your laid-back energy and ability to achieve high results with minimal effort make you an ideal candidate for this project. You'll complement Y/N's hardworking and determined nature as a perfect counterpart.”
“Y/N, on your first day as a transfer, my meticulous examination of your records and discussions with past professors leave me with no doubt about your suitability for this project. Your dedication, serious approach to education, and future planning give me high hopes. The stark difference between your hard work ethic and Jeno's laid-back attitude is precisely why I envision a successful collaboration. Jeno's ease will balance well with your commitment, creating a synergy that I believe will lead to exceptional outcomes. I look forward to seeing how your distinct qualities contribute to the success of this endeavour.”
He paced back and forth, gesturing to the screen displaying images of urban spaces and people engaging with technology. "We're embarking on an innovative project that centres around Virtual Reality Therapy. This groundbreaking initiative involves harnessing virtual reality technology to craft therapeutic environments for individuals dealing with stress, anxiety, or specific psychological conditions. Y/N, given your background in psychology, your insights are pivotal. I encourage you to delve into understanding how people emotionally, socially, and culturally interact within these virtual therapeutic spaces as we pioneer this transformative approach."
Addressing Jeno, Professor Suh continued, "Jeno, your engineering expertise will play a vital role in translating the technical facets of our vision into reality. From efficient infrastructure to sustainable solutions and cutting-edge technology, I anticipate your innovative touch to shape and elevate this project."
As the excitement filled the room, Professor Suh's expression turned serious. "Now, a crucial point to address. Y/N and Jeno, I appreciate your collaboration, but it's important to maintain a professional boundary. Given the nature of this project, a personal relationship could introduce biases and conflicts of interest. Therefore, I must emphasize that you both cannot engage in a romantic relationship during the course of this project. We need clear focus and objectivity to make this endeavor a success."
The room fell momentarily silent as the weight of the statement settled. Professor Suh concluded, "I believe in your capabilities, and I'm confident that together, you can create something remarkable. Let's make a difference, not just in engineering and psychology, but in the lives of those who will benefit from our work."
Professor Suh continues with a firm but encouraging tone, “I expect each of you to approach this project with the dedication you’d give to a cherished hobby. I’ll be monitoring our progress weekly, and I want to see a well-structured timetable in place to ensure we’re on track.”
As the words lingered in the air, you were amazed. Your eyes reflected genuine enthusiasm for the challenge ahead. The prospect of making a positive impact resonated with you, and a subtle smile played on your lips.
On the other hand, Jeno wore an expression of the opposite. This collaborative endeavor seemed to hold little interest for him, and an air of mild dread crossed his features. The idea of putting in effort didn't align with his usual laid-back demeanor.
In this moment of contrasting emotions, you and Jeno shared a glance. Your bright-eyed enthusiasm met his more reserved skepticism. There, in that silent exchange, an unspoken understanding unfolded—an acknowledgment of your differing perspectives yet a recognition of the collaborative journey you were about to embark on. The dynamics between you two already hinted at the intriguing challenges that lay ahead.
Leaving the office together, you assumed Jeno, with his tired demeanor, would head off on his own. To your surprise, he turns to you, his hooded eyes meeting yours. The weariness in his expression contrasts with the kindness in his gaze, and your assumption fades as he wears a faint but warm smile.
In the dim light of the corridor, both your eyes meet, and unexpectedly, Jeno speaks, "It's your first day. Do you want me to show you around?" His voice, though a bit tired, carries a genuine offer.
You smile instinctively, grateful for the unexpected gesture. You nod.
Little did you know, Jeno's offer wasn't just about preventing you from getting lost. As he walks beside you, pointing out different buildings and sharing anecdotes, it becomes evident that he's intrigued by you. His questions about your interests and the way he attentively listens reveal a curiosity that goes beyond the simple act of guiding a new student. There's a subtle connection forming, and as you chat and laugh, the initial weariness in Jeno's eyes seems to fade, replaced by a genuine interest that neither of you can quite explain.
As Jeno points out various architectural details, his words flow with a quiet eloquence. "This is probably my favourite building, it’s a blend of neoclassical and modernist elements, I love the contrast. Can you see how the columns, though contemporary, draw inspiration from classical Greek design?”
Though you're not particularly interested in the intricacies of architecture, you find yourself captivated by the way Jeno speaks. His words, delivered with a smooth cadence, reveal a depth of understanding and an understated intelligence that intrigues you. You tune in more to the cadence of his voice, the rise and fall of each carefully chosen word, than to the specifics of the buildings he's describing.
"This structure is known for its sustainability," Jeno continues, gesturing towards another building. "The architect prioritized energy efficiency through the use of eco-friendly materials and innovative ventilation systems."
You nod, pretending to absorb the architectural information, but in reality, you're more attuned to the way Jeno effortlessly conveys his knowledge. His eloquence paints a picture of someone who possesses not only a keen eye for design but also a refined ability to articulate complex concepts. In the midst of the architectural tour, you find yourself appreciating not just the buildings but the subtle intelligence that radiates from Jeno's well-spoken descriptions.
There’s another reason why you feel out of tune when he’s speaking, it’s because all you can feel is stares. As you walk beside Jeno, so many peering eyes follow your direction, the weight of gazes lingers, making you feel out of tune with his words. The countless stares create a sense of unease, prompting you to cut him off. "Why is everyone staring?" you ask Jeno, confusion evident in your voice.
"They're not," he shakes his head reassuringly, but you know better – they are. He offers a kind smile, attempting to soothe your discomfort. "You're just shy. It's your first day."
Jeno notices subtle signs of distress in you as your hands tremble, breaths quicken and a flicker of unease in your eyes. Despite not fully understanding the reasons, an instinctive urge compels him to offer comfort. Maybe it's the sincerity in your gaze or the vulnerability that surfaces.
Jeno’s hand delicately finding its place on your chin. Panic seizes you, and your eyes widen in response to the unexpected touch. Yet, as your gaze meets his, a juxtaposing warmth begins to unfold. It’s a warmth you can’t quite explain, a comforting sensation that weaves through the panic.
His soft yet dark eyes look deep into yours. Jeno’s voice, a seductive and hushed whisper, slices through the ambient noise. “Just keep looking at me. Keep your eyes on me.” His words intensify the warmth, a juxtaposition to the escalating panic within you. It’s as though Jeno’s mere presence, coupled with his soothing touch and whispered guidance, forms a shield against the prying stares.
In that moment, the panic subsides, and your attention becomes tethered to Jeno. There’s an unspoken understanding in his gaze, a silent promise that despite the sea of eyes, his focus is a haven of reassurance. The inexplicable warmth persists, becoming a sanctuary within the storm of attention, and you find solace in the connection he forges amidst the overwhelming gaze of others.
Your first impression of Lee Jeno is so good. Truthfully, you’re not a people’s person. You stay to yourself, you have an incredibly small circle and you don’t particularly enjoy socialising, you rather stay inside and read a book or study. You didn’t expect to bond with someone on your first day like you had bonded with Jeno. You learned a considerable amount about him. He loved architecture even though he studied engineering, he was quite a nerd. He wants to be a pilot when he graduates, his favourite food is sushi (like yours) and he has an older sister. You even exchanged numbers, you told him to text you whenever he had a question about the project.
A sigh of relief escapes as you finally step into the comforting embrace of your home. Your social battery is drained, and with each steady breath, you revel in the tranquillity within familiar wall, immediately heading over to the fridge for some comfort food.
Proud of yourself, you reflect on succeeding through the challenges of your first day in a completely new city and university. There's a sense of accomplishment in not retreating to the bathroom but facing the day head-on. Making a friend, or at least someone you're excited about, (you’re not sure if he counts as a friend yet).
Truthfully, you find yourself thinking about him, Jeno. A smile lingering on your face like an idiot. The moment you sink into your bed, the cushions engulfing you, you can't contain the giddy excitement. Kicking your feet like a teenager, you revel in the warmth of the accomplishment.
Sure, he may be dreamy and handsome, and you playfully curse yourself for finding him so but hey, you're just a girl, and there's a certain charm in embracing those girly feelings amidst the challenges of a new day.
As you're about to dim the lights and start your favorite romcom, "Notting Hill," the ambiance carefully set with food and opening credits, the front door slams, causing you to nearly drop your bowl of popcorn. Startled, you turn to find your roommate, Choi Yeonjun, entering. His features look shocked, and your gaze instinctively scans the room before freezing when you realize his intensity is directed at you.
Without a greeting, his loud voice rings through the room, "Why the hell am I hearing that Lee Jeno walked you around campus this morning?"
You raise your brows in confusion. How did he find out? "Is he some celebrity or something?"
Yeonjun chuckles, giving you a judgmental look, treating your question as if it's the most absurd thing he's ever heard. "News travels like the plague when it’s concerning Lee Jeno, Y/N. He's a big deal, the campus enigma. Probably the most popular and wanted guy around. He and his friends practically rule the institution. Notorious, but in a good way. He's like that guy in teen movies. He throws parties and he fucks everyone. Are you seriously telling me you don’t know? Didn't everyone stare?"
Your mouth widens in shock, you genuinely thought that Yeonjun was lying but it’s clear he’s not. Jeno had seemed like the most far from popular person ever, he seemed down to earth and friendly and he was such a nerd! The mental image of Jeno walking you around campus this morning, discussing architecture with genuine passion, clashes with the idea of a campus legend. He had felt so approachable, and the revelation triggers a whirlwind of thoughts as you grapple with this unexpected side of him. The stark contrast between perception and reality leaves you in a state of genuine disbelief.
You answer your roommate's question after a while of silence. “Everyone was staring but he just brushed it off while I was shitting myself. It makes sense now! He acted so calm because he’s used to the stares.”
Red rose to your cheeks as you thought about his sweet gesture earlier, a smile plastered on your smile. “He was really sweet though, he reassured me in such a cute way, his hands touched my face and he whispered in my ear –”
Yeonjun screams and it gives you whiplash. “GIRL! NO!” He shakes his head, acting as if you’re committing arson.
“Why not?” You question, your voice a low whisper as you frown.
Yeonjun is flabbergasted as he explains. “He’s a player, he’s a fuckboy. He practically fucks anyone with a pussy and apparently he doesn’t get into relationships. Plus, apparently he can be really intense and full on, especially when he’s high, yeah, he gets high and wasted. He throws all these notorious parties and to be fair, I’ve been to some of them and they’re great but it’s a lot of drugs, alcohol, smoking and couples fucking. I’m not kidding. He’s very extroverted and confident but in quite a sexy and slick back way, yeah he’s really fucking hot and I can see that you already think that. I just think you should keep your distance, Y/N, if I’m being honest, he’s the opposite of you.”
The weight of Yeonjun’s words settles heavily in the room, leaving you in another silence. The dissonance between the Jeno you thought you knew and the reality presented by Yeonjun leaves you grappling with a mix of shock, disappointment, and a lingering sense of disbelief.
Yeonjun apologizes when he senses your mood shift, but you brush it off, recognizing it's not his fault. You thank him for being a good friend and giving you a heads up.
As your roommate, Yeonjun is the opposite of you—outgoing, always taking you out to explore the city, and a great person to chat with. He has a boyfriend named Soobin, who happens to be an excellent cook. Despite how loud they are and the amount of times you’ve walked into them in questionable positions, you can't help but envy their relationship—they're your idea of couple goals.
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The professor, passionately discussing human interactions, captivates your attention until the door swings open abruptly. Your eyes widen as you're shocked to find Jeno entering, eyes locking onto yours. He appears well-dressed, his hair slightly messy, tight black shirt and his pupils dilated.
Despite the stares from the seminar attendees, he remains unfazed. "There you are, you gave me the wrong number, you idiot.” he declares, catching you off guard. In this unexpected moment, you reflect on Yeonjun's warning, realizing that Jeno's demeanour speaks volumes—confidence exudes from him. You would’ve never thought this earlier but since Yeonjun’s warning, you’ve been replaying his campus tour in your head and it’s clear that he’s confident, it’s crazy how one opinion can completely transform an existing opinion.
"How did you find me?"
His response is curt, "Doesn't matter. It’s a good time to start on the project now. I’m quite busy for the next few months so I’d be thankful if you were able to dedicate the next month or so to making good progress.” As he seamlessly transitions into discussing the project, he proves to be well-spoken and sweet.
You nod. “Of course.”
He smiles and mutters a thank you. “Give me your phone quickly.” You gulp as he puts his number in your phone, telling you that he’s added the dates to your calendar on when you’ll work together for the project, telling you to message him if you need to adjust them.
He poses the question, "Your house or mine?" An audible gulp escapes you before hesitantly suggesting, "Um… the library?"
Jeno laughs, "Can we talk there?"
You agree, "Okay, then my house."
Without waiting for your reply, he turns around, leaving you to process his abrupt departure. "See you tonight," he calls over his shoulder, disappearing as swiftly as he entered.
✧ ✧ ✧
Jeno has been coming over to work with you nearly every day. He drives.
You’ve grown quite… intrigued (if you say attracted then Yeonjun will get Heejin to hit you) by his kind gestures. He always brings over food and your favourite coffee. You told him your favourite coffee once, it was just something you said in passing and you didn’t expect him to actually remember and then start a ritual of regularly buying it for you.
His company is one that you find yourself growing attached to, you’re comfortable around him. You’re surprised how quickly you’ve gotten used to him, it’s rare for someone like you to warm up to a stranger so quickly.
His work ethic is the main thing that has you incredibly intrigued by him. He’s never late to your study sessions, he’s always engaged and every idea he has exceeds brilliance.
The sides of his lips curve up at your planning. “So cute.” He whispers under his breath, watching you as your brows furrowed in concentration, a sigh of relief leaving your lips when you bring out the right folder, it was a massive baby blue one, labelled ‘Y/N’s and Jeno’s Virtual Reality Therapy project,’ in the most prettiest cursive writing, different types of stickers, butterflies, hearts and ribbons, accessorising the front.
“I have so many folders, I colour coordinate them all but it’s still so difficult to remember which is which.” You say with a heavy puff, Jeno taking the hefty folder from your hands and placing it on the well lit and presented study table in front of you.
He learns that you take studying very seriously, you’re always revising. You take pride in your notes, you gave him a tour of all your revision material and he’s never seen someone talk about studying with such a grin on their face, all your notes were so well written and organised, it gives him a new wave of awe for you.
“So, let’s brainstorm our ideas. So I said that we need to ensure that each virtual space is personalised to resonate with users emotionally, this could involve customizable elements like scents, sounds, and visuals to enhance the therapeutic experience. This helps with mindfulness. We can incorporate guided mindfulness exercises, providing users with tools to manage stress and anxiety within the virtual environment.”
Your lips automatically turn sour when you turn the page over in the written plans you’ve made, Jeno lets out a laugh when he sees why. It’s the engineering side to the project, you’ve made it clear that his major is something that you may never understand and have zero interest in. “I’ll let you talk about these ideas.” You wince, Jeno’s rough handwriting nearly making you cry.
“So we’re gonna implement advanced AI algorithms. These algorithms would adapt to user responses and needs, providing personalised guidance.”
You squeal, nearly jumping out of your seat and he looks at you with amazed eyes. You just had a lightbulb moment. You grin and clap your hands excitedly as you speak. “I just thought of an amazing idea, what if we create a way of facilitating connections among users who share similar therapeutic goals? We should aim to incorporate it, the sense of community can bring people together for additional support, they can assist on each other's journey towards mental well-being.”
Your turn to him pleading, lips in a pout as you give him the cutest puppy eyes you can muster. “Pleaseeee tell me you can make it work from your side, if you so no, I might cry.”
It takes Jeno a while to reply because he’s thinking, thinking about you. No one else would get this happy over thinking of a good idea, he finds you endearing and cute, you’re something that warms any darkness in his heart.
When you call out his name, he finally responds with a nod. “I’ll just need to create a way where users have autonomy to shape their therapeutic experiences and who they want to share it with. I can do that easily with database software, no problem.” You sigh and thank him, turning to the side and watching him as he furrows his nose, jotting down notes, a lot of mathematics and science that looks foreign to you.
“It’s a good idea, Y/N. Therapy is proven to work the best when you have someone to lean on.”
You nod like a siren as he speaks, following every word and never finding a fault, he is so smart. He always has good ideas, you’re amazed at how he can keep up with the psychology side to the project while you struggle to understand the engineering side to it. He works so hard and honestly seeing him in his element has made him even more attractive.
“Let’s take a break.” His words break your enchantment. You nod, he’s consistently been reminding you to take breaks and to be drinking your fluids.
“Do you wanna help Yeonjun cook?” You question, a small smirk playing on your lips at the change in his expression, his eyes lighting up and it makes you laugh hard.
“He’s here?”
“Yeah, he lives here.” You say sarcastically.
Unexpectedly, he, Yeonjun and Soobin get along like they’ve known each other for years. It all started when Yeonjun nearly burned the kitchen down in a cooking disaster. Jeno, like the genius that he is, salvaged the kitchen from going up in flames and salvaged the meal. It was the best meal you’ve had in your life. You’re not surprised that he was a talented chef, you’re growing to learn that he’s good at everything and it’s without effort.
Ever since then, Yeonjun and Jeno have started cooking together. It’s more like Yeonjun failing to follow the recipes, Jeno doing most of the work and then Soobin having to comfort his pouting boyfriend because he just wants to be able to cook one meal without fucking it up. You overhear the three of them in the kitchen sometimes. three people from complete different backgrounds but they bond and share stories, their laughter always making your heart yearn.
You and Jeno have the cooked meal in your room as you were studying at the same time. You grab your phone from your pocket, going onto Instagram and getting the delicious meal in your camera angle. You feel his eyes on you before he speaks. “I wanna follow you.”
You exchanged socials with Jeno and though it was difficult to fully control yourself as he was sitting right next to you, you were so close to hitting your head against a wall, anything to stop your head from buzzing.
The first thing you notice is the amount of followers he has, a whopping 5589, your 95 followers seemed silly in comparison. The second thing you notice is his feed. You have to bite your tongue from screaming. It’s absolute filth. Delicious filth. Your eyes light up at it and you admit, it’s sexy but you’re also wondering how the hell this was the same person.
Your eyes hover over countless shirtless photos, photos in the gym, at the beach, he had a physique that deserved this amount of posts. He had countless photos of him partying, drinking, loads where he’s just posing and he looks so handsome, like a model. His face belonged in runaways, so did his body. Your eyes also grow wide at how well styled he is in these photos, his poses natural, only he can pull this off.
“You have so many photos with that damn teddy.” You gulp when you realise that he was probably stalking your account just like you did to his, you now regret being so glued to your phone and his feed as you missed his reactions to your own feed.
“Do you wanna know why?” You continue when he nods. “I love travelling, it’s when I’m happiest. I love trying new food, seeing the culture, I love getting a break. This teddy has been with me since day 1, through thick and thin, so it means a lot to me that it’s also experienced some of my best memories with me. I make it tradition to take a photo in front of the country that I’m visiting biggest landmark, holding Theo.”
Jeno looks at the teddy bear with genuine admiration, his smile growing more tender. "It's worn out.” you mumble, a hint of apology in your voice. "But it's still sentimental," he says, understanding the value it holds for you. The moment feels beautiful, Jeno holding something that carries so many memories and brings you comfort.
As he looks at the teddy bear, you decide this is a memory worth capturing. "The tradition is taking a photo with my teddy, so..." you trail off, grabbing your camera.
Jeno, intrigued, asks, "What's the special landmark this time?"
You pause, then playfully respond, "My bed," only realising how it might sound after the words leave your mouth.
Flustered, you try to clarify, "I didn't mean—"
But Jeno finds it amusing, his laughter filling the room. "It's okay," he reassures you, still smiling. As the laughter lingers, you seize the moment, capturing it with a click of the camera. The soft bear rests in Jeno's hands, and he's caught in the act of laughing, his focus off the camera as he gazes at you.
Excitement builds as you show him the photo, his expression unreadable. However, there's a fondness in his eyes that speaks volumes. "Send me it," he requests, and before the words fully leave his mouth, the photo is already on his phone. It's a moment frozen in time, a memory shared, and a connection deepening between you and Jeno.
As the laughter subsides, a profound stillness envelops the room. Your gaze locks with Jeno's, and suddenly, everything else fades into the background. There's an intensity in the air, and it's as if a cascade of unspoken thoughts and feelings clouds your minds, creating a shared moment that defies explanation.
In the midst of this intimate silence, you find the courage to break it. Your voice, a mere whisper, carries the weight of vulnerability, "You know, I don't let anyone touch my teddy. His name is Theo." The admission hangs there, lingering, as the depth of trust and connection grows between you and Jeno. In that shared gaze, you both seem to get lost, lost in a space where time slows, and the world outside becomes a mere backdrop.
Finally, breaking the spell, you continue, "You're the first who's held him other than me." The words bridge the unspoken gap between you, sealing a bond that laughter and shared moments have forged. It's a moment both intense and intimate, etched in the quiet exchange of looks and the admission of something so personal.
Later that night, after Jeno had left, you find yourself scrolling through Instagram. Your heart races when you spot the latest post on your feed. A smile spreads across your face as you click on Jeno's profile, and the photo you took of him stands out in contrast to his usually serious and cohesive theme. It adds a touch of brightness and spontaneity.
Lee Jeno
*Image Attached*
Me and Theo :)
✧ ✧ ✧
Lee Jeno had seamlessly become a constant presence in your life, transcending the boundaries of your initial collaboration on the project. Friendship had blossomed, revealing layers of connection that went beyond the academic realm.
In the quietude of your shared space, you both spent countless hours together, revealing your true selves. Jeno’s kindness became something you grew incredibly attracted to. This became evident when Chaewon went through a tough breakup, and Jeno, true to his protective nature, comforted her in such a perfect way, he also held Chanhee accountable for his actions.
One evening, as the moon hung high in the sky, Jeno confided in you about his involvement in charity work, your mouth opening wide when you realise he works closely with the exact charity that you hold close to your heart. The revelation sparked a conversation that stretched into the early hours of the morning. Plans for the future unfolded organically, with both of you promising that you’d work hard so you could have a more active role in the charity, side by side. You even helped each other fill out the application for a post–graduate scheme the charity runs.
There were nights when words weren't necessary. The silence that enveloped you both wasn't awkward; instead, it became a source of comfort. Jeno cared for you in ways that transcended the project work. He brushed your hair, knowing it pained you to do it yourself. He cooked for you, he cleaned for you.
His caring nature extended to the smallest details—reminding you to take breaks during study sessions, massaging your hair and neck and personally ensuring you stayed hydrated by placing your water bottle in front of your lips every now and then. Jeno became attuned to your needs, completing small errands when the weight of your busy schedule became overwhelming.
As the night wore on, thoughts of Jeno lingered in your mind. You think about him all night long. His kindness had woven its way into the fabric of your daily life, making his presence as essential as the air you breathed. The bond you shared, born out of shared projects, charity work, and late-night conversations, had grown into something deeper—a connection that defied definition but spoke volumes in the language of shared glances, comfortable silences, and unwavering support.
In the hushed hours of the night, the doorbell's familiar chime cut through the silence, announcing Jeno's unannounced presence. It was 1am, this wasn’t unusual, it could only be him.
As the door closed behind him, Jeno's gaze found you, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he licked them. "You look hot.” he declared, eliciting a flutter of giddiness within you. Blushing, you responded, "Stop it." Yet Jeno's playful persistence only deepened.
A hint of tipsiness clung to him, altering the atmosphere with a subtle shift in demeanour. Jeno's eyes, unable to look away from you, held a different intensity. "Am I making you feel uncomfortable?" he whispered seductively.
Shaking your head, you admitted, "It feels good.” embracing the newfound confidence his attention bestowed upon you. The sexy dress and meticulous makeup became a canvas, painting you in a different light.
“Does it feel good? Yeah?” His words lingered in the air, stirring emotions you were still discovering.
Your cheeks become red, quickly changing the topic. "Heejin was just bored and said she wanted to give me a makeover," you explained, attempting to divert attention from your newfound allure.
"Mmm," Jeno responded, his eyes revealing a flicker of something different. Captivated and a bit tipsy, his gaze lingered on you with newfound intensity. “I was gonna come over so we could do some work, but I feel quite distracted.” Jeno confessed, his eyes still locked on you. The suggestion of a new plan flickered in his gaze.
"You look good, let me take a photo." he proposed, and you found yourself becoming Jeno's muse. His skilled hands orchestrated the scene, capturing a moment blending sensuality with artistry. The photo, zoomed in, portrayed your cleavage adorned with a faint lace veil, jewelry perfectly placed, and his delicate touch moving your fingers over your chest, adding a new allure. As the camera clicked, the image froze in time, encapsulating a night of unexpected comforts and unspoken connections.
In the dimly lit room, the ambiance shifted as Jeno's intense gaze lingered on you. "You're beautiful." he uttered, his voice a low and seductive whisper that hung in the air. The atmosphere grew charged with an unspoken tension as his fingertips delicately traced over your fingers, still resting on your chest. A subtle chill accompanied the graze of his thumb over your rings, an act that heightened the intimacy of the moment.
Trapped in the magnetic pull of his gaze, you found yourself getting lost in the depths of each other's eyes. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in a silent exchange of emotions. The unspoken connection between you both spoke volumes, the touch of fingers and the locked gaze creating a romantic dance that transcended words. In that intimate space, time seemed to stand still, encapsulating the beauty of a moment suspended in the quiet acknowledgment of shared feelings.
Later that night you lay restless, head flat on your pillow, contemplating the desire to kick Jeno. Countless sleepless nights had been because of him, you keep thinking about earlier. As if summoned by your contemplation, your phone lit up, confirming your intuition—it was Jeno.
✧ ✧ ✧
Heejin insisted there was something brewing between you and Jeno, emphasizing the exchanged glances and the countless hours you spent together. Initially, Yeonjun and Soobin dismissed her claims, but once she managed to sway their opinions, you found yourself accused by three people of harbouring feelings for Lee Jeno.
Rather than denying it, you acknowledge the undeniable allure of Jeno. Who wouldn’t be captivated by him? He’s truly one of a kind. However, your feelings for him remain a fantasy, an unrealistic dream. “Even if I do, Heejin, he would never go for me.”
Heejin rolls her eyes at your apparent obliviousness. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
Soobin, wearing a puzzled expression, questions you, “Why do you say that?”
“It’s what Yeonjun said to me. He said that he’s a fuckboy, he doesn’t get into relationships and doesn’t want anything serious. Plus, I don’t fit into his scene. We have a lot of fun in my house but I don’t think I’ve ever hung out with him or his friends on campus apart from the occasional small talk, it kinda sucks…”
You regularly find yourself thinking about Yeonjun’s warning and it surprises you because the Lee Jeno you had gotten to know was so different from that. He was kind, caring and thoughtful, you couldn’t imagine him as a notorious fuck boy but if you were being fully honest to yourself, it did make sense. There was no denying that he was horny and incredibly sexual, nor was there denying his unbeatable looks and the attention his presence attracts.
Yeonjun shakes his head. “I can’t believe what I said either. He’s completely different to what I stereotyped him as. He’s still the most popular guy on campus but he’s actually a really sweet and down to earth guy, you know? He cares about his studies but he also cares about having fun, that’s why he always gets high and parties. He’s really humble and having one to one conversations with him is actually life changing, I see why Y/N spends most of her time with him. I’m not gonna lie, I think I’m catching feelings.” Yeonjun laughs, claiming the last bit was a lie, wincing when Soobin smacks him on the head.
“I heard he’s stopped sleeping around, Seoyeon and Nagyung tried to initiate something with him but he turned them down, he’s been turning a lot of people down which is unlike him.” Heejin says, clearly she’s heard all the gossip.
“Why?” You whisper in a faint voice.
The three of them exchange amused glances, and before you can fully grasp the situation, you let out a heavy sigh, accompanied by a crying noise.
“I want him,” you admit, tears welling up as you cry out, letting your emotions take over. Uncertain about why you’re reacting this way, you simply know you can’t deny it any longer – you’ve fallen completely and utterly for him.
Heejin wraps you in a warm hug. “Why are you crying?”
In confusion, a hint of hysteria in your voice, you shake your head. “I don’t know! I just want him.”
The weeks continue and you and Jeno have made good progress on your project, you still spend a lot of time together. There’s a shift in the atmosphere and air now as you actively like him, you try to fight back your feelings when interacting with him but you act on them, in the worst possible way, in fear and awkwardness.
You’re different around him. You don’t know if he can notice it. You confuse yourself, you also confuse Heejin and Yeonjun, who are the only ones who know about your unrequited and secret feelings and you made them promise to not tell anyone (Soobin knows).
You undeniably act crazy, for some reason that’s beyond you, you try and play matchmaker for him. “There’s a girl in my class who’s really pretty and cute, she’s sweet and she’ll suit you. Her name is Karina, do you know her?” You question words that should sound sweet and helpful but there’s a disconnection as you speak.
He shakes his head immediately, “I’m not interested.”
You don’t know why you’re so adamant. “But I heard you like going for girls? She’s a girl, I think she’s interested in you as well.”
He turns it down once again. “I’m sick of all the fucking, maybe I just want something serious.” You wonder if his words are directed at you, or are you delusional? Self doubt fills you, your thoughts attacking and fighting against what you feel in your heart. You’re not his type. He would never go for you.
The atmosphere shifts, leaving you in a state of confusion and anxiety. Trying to deflect, you push, “She’s really pretty, like the prettiest girl on campus.”
“I think you’re prettier,” he says softly, his gaze fixed on you. The air turns serious and intimate as his words linger, weaving into the ambiance, creating a moment where your anxiety and overthinking become almost palpable.
✧ ✧ ✧
What you don’t realise is that Jeno fell for your first.
Underneath the soft glow of string lights in your cozy living room, Jeno sits beside you on the couch. The air is filled with the familiar scent of popcorn, and the soft melody of "About Time" starts playing on the TV. As the scenes of the epic love story unfold, Jeno's eyes occasionally flicker to the screen, but more often, they're drawn to you.
You're completely absorbed in the movie, blissfully unaware of the fact that Jeno has not paid attention to the plot at all, he’s watching you, experiencing a beautiful story unfolding right in front of him. He knows he's fallen in deep when the realisation hits him like a wave.
It’s not like you can complain about his lack of attention towards the screen, it’s not like you paid attention when he made you watch his choice of movie, some geeky sci-fi that you fell asleep to less than halfway through.
The warm, dim light accentuates the gentle curve of your smile as you feed him popcorn, turning to face him and smiling every now and then. He's mesmerised by the way your eyes light up with each romantic scene, and he can't help but smile in response.
The soft giggle that escapes your lips becomes music to his ears, and he finds himself captivated by the subtle nuances of your laughter. The way you effortlessly create an atmosphere of comfort and joy leaves him in awe.
Jeno tries to make sense of the fluttering sensation in his chest, an unfamiliar but welcome feeling. Falling for someone wasn't part of his usual narrative, yet here he is, embracing the complexity of emotions. Your kindness, the shared moments, and the discoveries of common ground are etching memories in his heart.
Despite your differences, the attraction grows stronger. He admires your calmness, a sanctuary he craves, while you find solace in his fearless spirit. Yet, the walls of your connection seem confined to the space within your house, and Jeno feels a longing to extend it beyond.
He suggests hanging out outside, but each invitation is met with your dedication to studies. Parties and town visits are dismissed with a polite reminder of your academic commitments. Jeno understands, even though he wishes to be part of your world beyond the books.
The realisation settles in—he should dislike someone whose life revolves around studying, but he can't bring himself to feel anything but admiration. The mystery of why he's drawn to you, combined with the unspoken tension between you two, leaves Jeno questioning the unexpected turn of his feelings.
He confided in his childhood best friend, the one who knows him the best, Na Jaemin.
Jeno sits on Jaemin’s bed, frustration etched on his face as he scrolls through your social media feed. Each picture elicits a sweet smile from him, and he can’t deny the growing warmth in his chest every time he thinks about you.
“What the fuck is happening to me, Jaemin?” Jeno blurts out, his gaze fixed on your adorable posts. “I never thought I’d fall for her, and now I’m planning our future and naming our hypothetical children.”
The words sound almost surreal as they leave his lips, and Jeno can’t believe he’s uttering such sentiments. Perhaps the alcohol has loosened his inhibitions, his attempt to drown his feelings gone awry as thoughts of you flood his mind.
Frustrated, he barges into Jaemin’s room, pouring out his heart about his unexpected attraction, his desire for you, and the constant presence of your thoughts haunting him.
“So, what do you want to do about it?” Jaemin inquires, assessing his friend’s dilemma.
“I don’t know,” Jeno confesses, uncertainty clouding his expression. The beating sensation in his heart felt so foreign.
“Is this normal?” Jeno asks, his voice laced with fear.
Jaemin can’t help but laugh at the irony. “This is the most normal you’ve ever been.”
✧ ✧ ✧
You don’t know how you found yourself indoors on a Friday night, laying on your bed, Lee Jeno beside you, as he talks to you about his favourite sex position.
“I love them all. The doggy, I love being able to touch everything, hips, tits, boobs, while I pound into the pussy like crazy. I love being restrained and tied up. I love when I’m choked or when I choke. I love when someone rides me, uses me to get off, doesn’t let me touch them. Fuck. But I also love sucking on titties while my dick is being bounced up and down on. Y/N, I just love sex.” He finishes with a satisfied sigh, playful eyes looking deep into yours, not breaking contact for even a second as he speaks.
He chuckles, “You?”
You nearly choke. “I – I don’t have as much experience as you but I just like plain old missionary, you know? I like looking into someone's eyes as we’re making love. I crave feeling loved and seen, I want every inch of my body kissed, I want a connection so deep that every worry fades away. I just want to feel loved and appreciated, you know?”
Jeno’s silent, his eyes turning dim as he sees you in a new light. It’s the way he’s looking at you. You blush, your eyes inviting him in a soft whisper. He hums and nods in agreement. “You’re adorable.” His finger moves to nudge your nose and you do the same to him.
“So you’re not a needy slut?” His unexpected change of subject makes you choke. You jab him in the chest, shaking your head, tongue prodding the inside of your cheek as he looks at you with a playfulness. “I always imagined you as one…” He mumbles, his firm grip on your face conveys a powerful desire for your unwavering attention, a silent plea for you to remain captivated by his gaze.
You roll your eyes. “Just because I want to feel loved by my partner doesn’t mean that I don’t have a freaky side.” You pout, crossing your arms as you refuse to look him in the eyes.
“It’s not my fault that I haven’t been given the opportunity to explore that side of me. I mean sure, I want to have crazy sex but when you’re as inexperienced as me, I mean, call me boring but my body count is only 1. What’s yours?”
He ignores your question, asking his own. “You’re not a virgin?” His tone comes across as more perplexing and shocked than he would’ve wanted but when he realises that you’ve not taken it the wrong way, instead you burst out in laughter, he sighs a breath of relief. His eyes light up at how precious your laugh is, it pulls at his heart string and makes him yearn for something that utterly and truly confuses him.
“I used to have a boyfriend.” You mumble, looking down and picking at your nail, a sense of loss in your voice which gives Jeno an unusual tear in his insides. He’s used to seeing you nervous but it still makes him wish he could take everything away.
“Hey.” He smiles, a sweet tone and his gentle fingers come underneath your chin, softly caressing the skin as he turns your face to look his way. Gone were the days where you’d break away from his intimate eye contact due to feeling butterflies. Though the fluttering sensation remains, there’s now an endearing quality that compels you to keep looking.
He doesn’t need to ask for you to open up and explain, you do that without a second thought now, that’s how comfortable you’ve become with him. “It was my first relationship, my first kiss, my first – you know.” You laugh awkwardly and he widens his eyes, tongue prodding against his cheek in annoyance. Why the hell is he annoyed?
“It was perfect. I mean – it seemed perfect. We were so different, in no world could I imagine being together. He was a lot more adventurous than I was, in a lot of ways. He used to party a lot, he had a very big friend group, he was really outgoing and social. He always used to receive so much attention and then obviously me, the only girl he’s ever settled down with, became the negative side of that attention that he got.”
“I realised that our differences didn’t make us an ideal match. I really wanted us to work, I wanted to prove to myself that the person you love doesn’t have to have the same likes and interests as you, because what’s the fun in that? I wanted to fall so badly in love with the world that he was in, I wanted to become familiar with it but it was too much for me. I used to get so overwhelmed with anxiety and pressure, I found myself acting so unlike myself, I didn’t want to change who I was for him but I ended up on that path. I mean, we broke up before it got extreme. It would’ve been easier if he was a cruel person but he wasn’t, he isn’t. I think I realised that I couldn’t put up with his hectic lifestyle, it all just became a bit too much. Sometimes, though, I felt like that relationship ate away at my self worth and that I begin to matter less and less. I feel like I was never good enough –“
“Don’t you ever say that.” He interrupts, not letting you undermine yourself. As he senses your silence and the stillness on your face, he inches closer. It’s now you who can’t tear your gaze away from him, your heart beats as you feel the warmth of his body. He gently wipes away a falling tear, the warmth of his eyes not leaving yours for a second. His hands then securing your shoulders. He pulls you into a warm embrace, you break into sobs, held tightly in his comforting softness.
You’re not sure when but the comfort in the touches escalated to a level that felt unusual for ‘friends’ but it felt so normal for the two of you.
He lays down on your bed, cushioned by the dozen pillows surrounded by you guys but the main thing warming his heart was your body pressed on top of his, your head tucked into the crevice of his neck as he smooths your hair. He occasionally drops kisses to your temple, his reason being that you were crying and he knows your number one comfort in the world is physical touch but he’s run out of his excuse when you stop crying.
You pout against his skin when he suddenly stops smoothing out your hair, he chuckles and immediately starts once again. What you don’t know is that his heart momentarily stopped as your lips made contact with your skin. It’s a feeling he’s never experienced, the flutter of butterflies in his stomach, the quickened beat of his heart like a melody finding its rhythm.
Your eyes meet in a silent exchange, an intimate haven A warmth envelops the air as your gazes intertwine, feelings that make sense, feelings that don’t make sense. The atmosphere is gentle, like a comforting breeze that whispers sweet secrets. In that tender moment, time seems to slow, and the world around you fades into a soft blur.
He rests his palm against your cheek, the contact making a genuine smile spread across your face as you lean into the touch, your cheek rubbing against his palm as you let out a hum of satisfaction. His other hand continues caressing your hair, you normally would’ve been annoyed as he was making fresh hair greasy but you can’t find it in you to act on that, especially not when he’s looking at you the way he is right now.
“I don’t ever wanna hear you say you’re not good enough, ok?” He says and his tone is comforting yet strict, it was conflicting in a way. He nudges your nose with his thumb. “You’re my favourite person right now.”
You nod, looping your arms around his neck in a bid to get closer. “I promise, I won’t.”
He goes silent then tuts, huffing in disbelief. “What about me?” He questions, offended. He’s exaggerating, he’s doing it to make you laugh and he hasn’t failed.
“You’re my favourite person right now too.” You admit, your heart is weighed down with emotion and your voice reveals your depth of feelings
“Did he treat you well?” Jeno asks, brows furrowing in concern, his protective stance making you smile.
“It’s complicated. Sexually, it wasn’t the best. After the relationship passed I realised that my needs and desires weren’t pleased the way I deserved them to be. It was always me getting down on my knees, I think I cummed like twice in the entire three months. It was just –”
“You deserve better than that.”
Jeno's intense gaze deepens, pupils dilating with a mixture of empathy and resolve. "You deserve better than that. You’re so fucking beautiful and intelligent. You’re so cherished. You deserve the best sex that anyone can ever give you, every need met. You deserve to cum a thousand times a night. I promise I’ll show you.” The tension in the air grows thicker as he leans in closer to you, just when you think he’s gonna kiss you, he smiles, his promise carrying a soft reassurance. It’s one that confuses you but you can’t deny the way your eyes lit up and the soreness of your cheeks from smiling.
A silence passes and it’s both exciting and terrifying. He’s never looked at you like this before. You want to ask him what he’s feeling, to act in the way that he’s looking at you and holding you but a part of you doesn’t have the confidence for that yet.
“Now you need to tell me, what’s up with everyone telling me you’re a fuckboy?” You question him, a poor way on your behalf to move the conversation forward.
You can see that he’s taken aback by your question in his eyes but they twinkle nonetheless. “I just love having sex.” He answers quickly and bluntly, eyes deep into yours as he reveals his truth, you try to laugh off your nerves but his gaze is locking with such intensity into yours. He chuckles at your reaction, at how red and flustered you’ve become. He loves this.
“I’m not a fuckboy though. You know me, you don’t think I’m mean, do you?”
You shake your head immediately, gulping and tearing your eyes from him as he calls you a good girl. He means it harmlessly but it fucks with your head. You quickly talk to ignore the racing beat of your heart. “You’re so sweet and kind to me – ” You laugh, stopping mid sentence to pinch his cheeks which to your surprise, he doesn’t even stop you from doing. “But Jeno… I’ve seen you be quite unfriendly to other people.”
“They deserve it.” He answers with no hesitation.
“I still don’t get why everyone kept speaking about you like you were a notorious fuckboy, you know so many people warned me to stay away from you, I obviously didn’t listen.”
He sighs, scratching his neck. “They’re just jealous that we get along so well but it doesn’t bother me because at the end of the day, we’re making the best memories together. And people don’t know the true story, they just comment on what they see and assume the worst. I’m not a fuckboy like that. Yeah sure, I like, well I used to like sleeping around but I was never a ‘rude fuck boy’. I have respect for each and every girl I sleep with, I make sure they’re cared for, before and after we’re fucking, that they feel good at all times whilst they’re with me. I make sure they don’t feel like I’m just using them for sex even though I don’t want anything further with these girls, I make it clear that the only thing I’m looking for is good sex and they always know that before going into it with me, it avoids disappointment and high expectations. Although I’ve had problems before, it doesn’t matter.”
He explains and a silence follows. You have so many thoughts, so many questions you want to ask and you don’t know where to start but before you know it, one is spilling from your lips before you can properly think of what you’re asking. “Why did you stop?”
He hums, looking at you and raising an eyebrow.
“You said you ‘used’ to like fucking around, why have you stopped?”
“What do you think?”
You hiss in annoyance, he’s normally always keen to explain and talk through everything and anything to you so why is he being so secretive and blunt right now? You don’t understand why he’s keeping his words to a minimum.
“I don’t know so can you stop being so –”
“How am I supposed to have sex with these girls when I’m wishing that they were you?”
In the warm, charged air, their breaths mix like a dance, full of longing. Just a few words reshape everything. It's weird – no nerves or awkwardness, just a flutter in your heart, embraced in the moment. He holds you with strong arms, bodies fitting together perfectly. His captivating eyes connect with yours deeply. It feels just right, a special moment.
"Jeno," you say softly, and he responds with a hum.
"Yeah. I want you," he says, his thumb gently touching your bottom lip.
His radiant grin and those mesmerising eyes captivate your attention, urging you to keep gazing at him but you have a better idea. Your tender lips meet his, your eyes naturally close, succumbing to the delicate touch. The kiss, a mere caress of skin against skin, sparks a delightful frenzy within, setting your entire being alight. Immobile, you find yourself unable to resist, and there's no desire to. In this moment, you yearn for time to stretch indefinitely – the subtle hint of cinnamon warmth, the fragrance of fresh rain, and the exquisite sensation of his breath mingling with yours – a wish for this enchanting experience to linger.
Lost in each other's lips and locked in a gaze that speaks volumes, the night unfolds with passionate embraces and tangled limbs. You feel Jeno's desire, a palpable energy that fuels the connection. His scent, a mix of warmth and subtle cologne, envelops you, adding another layer to the sensory experience.
The kisses are intense and insatiable, each touch leaving an indelible mark on the night. Jeno's lips move with purpose, exploring and igniting a fervor that courses through both of you. The taste of him is addictive, the play of tongues an intricate dance of desire. As you straddle him, the heat between you grows, the kisses deepening in both intensity and intimacy.
It's not just a physical connection; it's a shared exploration of passion. Jeno's hands on your body convey a hunger matched by your own, creating an electric current that courses through every touch. The room is filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and the symphony of kisses, creating a sensory tapestry that encapsulates the entirety of this unforgettable night.
✧ ✧ ✧
As soon as you open the door, you barely have time to recollect your thoughts or greet him as his lips are pressed against yours.
He grabbed you firmly, and backed you up against the wall beside the door as he swiftly closed it. His lips come crashing into yours, tongue adjacent. You barely had time to think or react. Your eyes widened in astonishment as he pulled away for a moment, his eyes met yours with a smile.
“Hello to you too.” You whimper, his lips kissing along your jaw, while his hands slid along your body.
He breaks it up as he senses it’s getting too heated, you’re both breathing heavily and flustered. His eyes sparkle as he takes in your appearance, bottom lip tugged under his teeth as he looks you up and down. “You look cute.” He compliments.
You give him a giddy smile, feeling hot as his heated gaze is still taking in all of your body and he’s not hiding it. You’re laughing against his shoulder when he pulls you in for a warm hug, the embrace filling your veins with joy. He kisses your cheek, you tie your hands together and realise you really do look cosy. You were in the fluffiest of socks, your hair was in a messy bun and you were wearing your glasses. Your cheeks heat up when you remember that you were only wearing a t-shirt and underwear, you were sure he could see your nipples peek through your flimsy top and if you rose ever so slightly, your panties would be on show.
“I dress for comfort.” You say with pride.
“And I don’t?”
You shake your head, you were honest and unfiltered. “You really don’t, every day is like a runaway for you but I’m not complaining.” He always looks hot.
“Why are you so dressed up right now?” You question, glancing sideways to look at the clock. “It’s 1am. What are you even doing right now?” You cross your arms over your chest.
“What have you been doing?” He reverses his question back to you.
You clap your hands with excitement and he can’t help but grin at how cute he finds you like this. “I’ve been working on the assignment. Do you want me to show you all I’ve worked on?” You question, hand already in his and you’re ready to drag him to your room before he interjects.
“You should’ve showed me earlier when I was trying to sleep.” He is completely unfazed. Kissing your forehead as his form of apology when you start sulking. You grab his tie, the action making him flustered which you don’t realise.
You fiddle with the material. Eyes dancing over him again.
He exudes attractiveness in smart trousers that complement his silhouette perfectly, paired with a meticulously fitted shirt. Every detail oozes of confidence, from the crisp lines of the trousers to the way the shirt hugs his muscular and broad form with tailored precision. His black leather jacket is resting against his shoulders, adding warmth and comfort to his attire. “You still haven’t told me, why are you so dressed up?”
He doesn’t answer at first so you loop your arms around his neck to ensure his full attention is on you. He seems a bit distracted, you realise he’s looking down as your shirt has risen, he’s looking at your lace underwear peeking through, the all so familiar heat in his eyes that you’re so used to.
“Hey!” He meets your eyes with an apologetic yet guilty glance, he truly couldn’t help himself. He bites his lips and you take the time to truly take him all in.
His hair, pitch black and casually slicked back, has a few stray strands escaping the gel, falling playfully over his forehead. Your hand naturally reaches to caress the hair on his neck, enjoying its length. Fingers moving to dangle against his earrings, adoring how he was always so dressed up, he took so much pride in his appearance and the attentiveness was hot.
His face is like something out of a magazine, intense, heated eyes, soft cheeks, lips still swollen from your kisses, a sharp jawline, and the cutest dimples. He looks stunning, surpassing anyone you've seen before. It's not just his looks; the way he looks at you confirms he's a masterpiece, as if he's walked out of an impressionist painting.
His sides of his lips curve up in the most boyish smile as he checks you checking him out. “You think I’m sexy?” He questions, voice purposefully low and seductive. You’ve learnt that he’s quite shameless and cheeky, he has no limit or shame.
“Answer me.” He says as you’re silent.
“Yeah.” You answer simply, voice coming in a small whisper which makes him coo at how cute you are.
He kisses your lips briefly before finally telling you why he’s come to you in such attire. “You’ll see why I’m so dressed up in about an hour.“ He looks at his watch before finishing. “And now you’re gonna be dressed up.”
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as he moves your arms from around his neck so he can take your hand in his, walking the two of you outside to where his car is parked. He opens the passenger door with one hand, pulling you in front of him with his other, arm coming to rest around your front, his compact yet soft hold keeping you in place against his body heat, flush against flush. You’re so close to him.
You feel an electric shock of butterflies surge through your veins when he leans over to grab the bags on the seat, you lean over in tow. He’s made it difficult for himself to grab the bags by placing you in front of him but you learn that he’s just content to feel your body against his, you never realised how touchy and clingy he truly could be. He rests his head against your shoulder, kissing the skin below your ear as he sighs when you relish in his touch, leaning back into him, closing your eyes in bliss. Truth is, you find yourself craving for his touchy side.
“I don’t want you to get cold.” He explains himself. It’s his excuse, how could you get cold when you’ve been outside for a mere minute? You giggle when he ends the moment to drag you back inside. It was definitely an excuse.
“What the hell is in these bags?” You question, eyes widening as you look at the brands. This was a lot of money.
“Well, I remember you telling me that you felt like you didn’t have enough going out clothes so I got you some that I know you’d look really good in.” He explains like it’s nothing, laughing as he sees your agape mouth and startled eyes. No one has ever done this for you.
“You shouldn’t have!”
After a lot of back and forth, you trying to reject the gifts, him telling you to shush and to just accept this gesture, you finally accept the gifts with hesitation, promising him that you’ll make it up to him.
“When did you even have time to go shopping?” He left your house at around 10pm with a kiss to your forehead, telling you he had some university work to do. He felt guilty as you pleaded him to stay the night but he promised he would another day.
“I just couldn’t sleep, I kept thinking about you.” He explains, his honesty being a major turn on for you.
“I told you not to go.” You mumble with a pout.
“Well I’m here now.”
“I went shopping for you. It didn’t take long, I know what you like.” He says and you’re left wondering how?. You don’t even think you know yourself like that, whenever you’re shopping it’s always a lengthy struggle.
He leans down and your eyes nearly tear at how attractive he truly is.
His shirt clings to his muscles, showing off the definition in his lean and toned chest as he leans down, rummaging through the bags with a determined look. Your thirst is quenched by the view of his thighs, snug and fabulous, displaying their shape in a really appealing way.
He finally finds what he’s looking for with a satisfying grin, leaning up and handing over the material gently in your hands. Your skin beams at the luxurious silk, it’s smooth texture inviting a gentle caress in your hand. “You’re gonna wear this one.” He asks, more like tells but you don’t have a problem with it. Seeing the mere satisfaction he gets from telling you to wear a dress that he’s brought out for you and one that he likes is enough to make you feel confident and secure in the choice.
“You know my size?” You question in suprise, eyeing the label as you speak.
He wiggles his eyebrows, a smirk plastered on his face. “Of course I do.” His tone is playful.
You look at him with surprise, this is a side to him that’s so unexpected and different. Jenos, once more reserved and friendly with you, underwent a noticeable transformation when he received the green light of your interest in him. The subtle shift in his demeanour revealed a confidence that he had been hiding, he began to explore a more touchy and sensual side. His interactions became imbued with a palpable energy, as if he had unlocked a deeper connection and sought to express it through physical closeness. The change in his actions spoke volumes about the impact of your reciprocated feelings, turning moments of restraint into an exploration of intimacy.
The unexpected emergence of Jenos' flirty, touchy, and loving side sparked a thrilling response, stirring a sense of arousal. The contrast from his previous reserved nature amplified the allure, creating a magnetic pull of excitement. The novelty of exploring this unanticipated dimension of his personality added a layer of passion, turning the ordinary into an exhilarating adventure. The element of surprise, coupled with the genuine connection, heightened the attraction and fueled a sense of desire for the uncharted territories of this newfound intimacy.
“What’s your favourite colour?”
“Black.” You and him answer at the same time and his eyes lift up in satisfaction. You’re questioning two things, why would he ask if he already knows? And how does he know so much about you? It makes you question whether you’re an open book or whether he’s just so attentive and observant, you know it’s the latter. Even your best friend doesn’t know this much about you.
“You know, your favourite colour doesn’t match your personality.” He whispers, leaning down, his breath caressing your ear before his whisper does. “It makes me so much more intrigued by you, I know you have a side that you haven’t shown anyone, I can’t wait until you’re ready to show me it.”
You’re stunned by his words but he doesn’t even give you time to react fully or respond. “Try it on.”
“But where are we going?” You question, lips in a pout, cheeks flushed and eyes soft, hoping it would evoke sympathy so he’d tell you as you can’t stand surprises but he doesn’t budge.
“What’s with all the questions?” He says in an amused tone, secretly loving how you were freaking out inside.
“I –“
“Don’t you trust me?” He says, voice gentle and heart sincere.
“Of course I do.” You answer without thinking. He’s earned your trust through time.
“Good girl.” He smiles, thumb caressing your bottom lip, looking down at you with equal amounts of trust and appreciation in his eyes. What you felt for each other was undeniable and unquestionably mutual. “Now go change.”
Your eyes widen and your cheeks become flustered, a redness that was starting to become usual around him. He pecks your lips before closing his eyes in front of you, covering his eyes with his palm before turning around. “Is this okay?” He questions and you nod, telling him yes.
Sliding into the dress feels like a graceful embrace, the feeling heightened as you know it’s picked out and chosen by Jeno. The silk glides effortlessly over your skin, casting a sensation. As it inches up, there's a gentle caress against your legs and thighs, and the dress wraps you in a luxurious cocoon, creating a heightened sense of elegance and allure.
You let out a shudder of cold breath when you realise that there’s a zip on the back, one that you probably would have reached with some effort but you had a better idea. “Jeno.” You call out to him, your faint voice filling the hot atmosphere.
“You’re finished?” He says, palm still over his eyes and they wouldn’t move until you told him so.
“Just turn around.”
A rush of breath escapes him as he emerges from a minute of darkness, greeted by the captivating sight of your back. The silhouette reveals a subtle curve, the graceful lines drawing his attention, and a mix of anticipation and wonder floods through him at the unexpected beauty unveiled before his eyes.
“Can you help me with the zip?” You ask, shyly, not knowing what to feel as you were met with his silence.
“Yes.” He answers and for the first time, he sounds speechless in your presence.
His fingers trace a delicate path along the exposed skin as he slowly zips up the back of your dress, eyes following in awe. The metallic whisper of the zipper weaves a subtle melody, punctuating the intimacy of the moment. The fabric yields to your touch, caressing your spine in a tender dance. Each upward motion is a silent promise, creating an electric connection between you, as if sealing the dress is an act of sealing the shared passion. The room is filled with an unspoken language, where every tug of the zipper threads binds you closer, making the ritual of dressing a ritual of desire. His fingertips create an intimate connection, his touch lingering as if etching a map on your spine. You’ve never felt closer.
“Done.” He whispers with a kiss to the back of your neck, leaving his lips there to linger, the feeling of his skin against yours leaving goosebumps.
“Thank you.” You mumble, moving to turn around and face him but before you can do so, his hands around your waist secure you. He moves your hair from one side and tucks it behind your ear, you relish in his touch, breath hitching in your throat when you realise you’re both standing in front of the mirror.
Your own reflection is a welcome surprise. The dress hugs your curves beautifully, accentuating them in a way you could’ve never imagined. The cleavage on show makes you feel shy but the way Jeno’s looking at you takes it all away. You can see how he’s looking at you through the reflection, his eyes carrying such intensity and heat, it speaks of desire.
His voice, a symphony of sensuality and seduction, whispered, "You look so beautiful, baby." His eyes, filled with desire, traced an enchanting path across your form, lingering on the curves that the dress embraced so gracefully. A subtle, knowing smile played upon his lips as his fingertips delicately explored those curves.
“Can you see how beautiful you look?” He pressed a soft kiss against your skin, the intimacy heightened as you pressed back, sighing as you melted fully into him. In that moment, the air was filled with the magnetic allure of shared affection, an intimate atmosphere that bound you together in the dance of whispered words, gentle kisses, and the tender touch that spoke volumes.
He hums when you haven’t answered.
“Yes.” You answer simply, not knowing that you could feel this way.
“Can I put your hair up?” He questions, voice coming out as a quiet lull. You nod, your hair is already in a messy bun but you assume he wanted to do it neatly.
You look in astonishment as he focuses on you with his full attention, smoothing out the strands and putting everything in place before creating what could’ve possibly been the best hairstyle you’ve ever seen on yourself. It was an elegant bun, framing pieces giving a whole new level of sophistication and elegance to your look, his attention to detail surprised you.
You laugh and it unexpectedly brings humour to such a heated and intimate moment. “When did you learn how to do all this?” You question, he could do hair better than you.
“I like when your hair is up.” He whispers into your ear, a playfulness deep in his tone which fucks with your head even more.
“You look so much better than I could’ve imagined and trust me, I’ve thought about you in this dress about a hundred times since buying it.” He admits, his hands glued to your curves, he’s unable to stop caressing them.
The dress was so utterly breathtaking. “Thank you Jeno, really.” You express your gratitude, looking in the mirror and admiring the sight of your own reflection once again.
The dress is crafted from lavish black satin, so enchanting, a lustrous sheen that catches the light with every movement. The fabric gracefully cascades, accentuating the contour and curves of your body while maintaining an air of refinement. Delicate lace embellishments trace along the neckline and hem, The plunging neckline subtly accentuates your cleavage, a sight that was welcoming and new, it adds a touch of allure without being overly revealing. Its captivating elegance lies in the delicate balance between sophistication and subtle seduction, making it the most secure and perfect choice for you.
You turn around in his hold, looking up at him with the most fervent eyes before you close the small distance between you both.
Your lips met his in a passionate embrace, a desperate dance of desire. The heat of the moment intensified as he kissed you back, moulding your mouths together, creating an electric connection. Soft sighs and gentle moans lingered in the air, merging with the intoxicating warmth. It was a steamy, lingering kiss—a fusion of longing and urgency that left you both breathless, lost in the sensual currents of the shared moment.
You back away with a whimper, breathing heavily and feeling unsatisfied. Just as you’re about to kiss him back, his words cut you off. “We have to go, we’re gonna be late.” His voice is forced and pushed out, leaving you with a small pout as you follow his lead, hand ingrained in his as he walks you to the car.
His hand doesn’t let go of yours as he’s driving. You possibly can’t imagine him being any more attractive than he is in this current moment, although you don’t know that you’re in for a surprise.
As he navigates the empty road, his strong, defined arms confidently grip the steering wheel. The hum of the engine harmonises with the low timbre of his voice as he occasionally speaks to you, the small talk filling the atmosphere but never once feeling awkward or forced.
His fingers entwine with yours in a silent promise. The occasional soft kisses on your hand punctuate the drive, moments of affection seamlessly woven into the rhythm of your journey. It’s like he can’t go a moment without him touching or kissing you, little do you know that this is only the start…
Your eyes carry a magnetic allure as he parallel parks so swiftly, something that you’re both envious and turned on by. The concentration that furrows his brow makes you smile at how breathtaking he looks.
“You’re staring.” Eyes not leaving the road as he fills the silence, turning around to face you for a split second with that smirk that pulls at your heart strings.
“You look hot.”
You look around when you’ve realised he’s parked, it’s a house that’s unfamiliar to you. “We’re at your house?” You assume, stepping out the car once he’s opened the door for you, hand finding yours once again.
He nods. “Yeah I left my wallet.”
You stop for a second and look up at the house, eyes narrowing when you realise you can see light through the windows, he explains that he has roommates, people you haven’t met before. Some sound familiar, some don’t. Jaemin, Donghyuck, Renjun.
“Come.” He smiles, arms outstretched when he sees hesitation in your walk and face.
Just as you’re about to walk in, you feel unsettled and confused, you look at each other and you’re surprised to see that he’s just as confused as you are. Was this a frat house? That was the only solid explanation you could think of at the moment because why was it so loud? You hear excruciating loud music from outside, the sensation making you wince and cover your ears, this truly sounded like the worst music you’ve ever heard. You see beer bottles scattered outside and you jump when the front door opens and drunken people come in and out the house, some staring at you, some are too wasted to even notice you but they all acknowledge Jeno, it overwhelms you just how many people recognise and greet him, was he that well known and popular?
“What day is it?”
You raise your eyebrows, confused as to why he doesn’t know. “It’s Sunday.”
He curses immediately, gritting his teeth, his features arranging into pure frustration. “I’m supposed to be hosting this party, I’ve completely forgotten.” He raised his voice over the crowd of people, merely giving him the bare minimum greeting when they shout his name. He's more concerned about maneuvering through the crowd, hand in hand, trying to get to a quiet room which seemed impossible due to the sheer volume of people partying.
You throb with an overwhelming intensity. The room is buzzing with a cacophony of laughter, music, and clinking glasses that engulfs the crowded space. The pulsating bass shakes the floor as bodies move in a chaotic dance, lost in the rhythm. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol, mingling with the pungent aroma of various substances. In every corner, couples share passionately making out, their connection heightened by the vibrant atmosphere. Drunken people stumble through the crowd, their laughter blending with the ambient noise. It's a sensory overload of sights and sounds, it takes a toll on you going from such a quiet and intimate place with Jeno to this complete extreme, an intoxicating atmosphere.
As you and Jeno intertwine your fingers and walk through the crowd, a ripple of hushed whispers and lingering gazes follow you. Your connection becomes a focal point, drawing a spectrum of reactions from the surrounding onlookers. Some shoot judgmental glares, their eyes carrying a hint of intimidation and it’s aimed at you, Meanwhile, others wear expressions of genuine confusion and intrigued interest, as if trying to decipher an unexpected puzzle.
The weight of attention becomes suffocating, and your thoughts spiral with self-consciousness. You second guess every move, hyper-aware of the disapproving looks and the prying eyes. The once vibrant atmosphere of the party morphs into a claustrophobic maze, trapping you in a cycle of anxious thoughts. Jeno squeezes your hand reassuringly, but the external pressures persist, triggering a sense of vulnerability.
"Jeno, everyone is staring," you whisper under your breath, unsure if he can even hear. His response is a subtle tightening of his grip on you, silently manoeuvring you in front of him. His hands then find the sides of your face, his captivating eyes drawing you in, offering an inviting refuge that makes you forget the penetrating stares.
Your heart rate steadies as he leans in, connecting his lips to yours in a surprising move. You're taken aback, wondering how he remains unfazed by the judgmental looks. It's as if he's accustomed to the attention, his confidence astonishing you. You yearn to emulate his ability to brush off the scrutiny, but the weight of judgement lingers, a stark contrast to his composed demeanour
Feeling the tension in the air, Jeno senses your unease. Without a word, he slips off his leather jacket, the scent of familiarity enveloping you as it drapes over your shoulders. The jacket, infused with his comforting essence, serves as a shield against the prying eyes and judgement.
As you pull the jacket close, the soft leather and his distinct scent create a cocoon of security. The tactile reminder of his presence eases the nervous knot in your stomach. In that shared moment under the jacket's reassuring weight, the party's chaos fades into the background, replaced by a quiet sanctuary that Jeno, with his thoughtful gesture, has crafted just for you.
“How do you forget that you’re supposed to be hosting a party?” You question, breathing a sigh of relief when he’s finally found a vacant room, closing the door behind you and immediately pressing you against the wall, content on just holding you close to him.
“I told you, I’ve only been thinking about you. You fuck me up so much.” Jeno confesses, his voice laden with desperation and a hint of a low moan. It’s a confession painted with a mix of desire and torment.
“Jeno.” You sigh, voice laden with the same desperation and hint of low moan. Your breath catches at Jeno's intense confession, his words hanging in the air like a charged current. The vulnerability in his voice resonates with you, and a swirl of emotions envelops your senses. A mixture of surprise, desire, and a tinge of uncertainty dances in your eyes as you meet his gaze.
His expression swiftly shifts to one of apology, that beloved grin fading as he peppers your face with spongy and delicate kisses. "I’m so sorry," he whispers against your skin, his words leaving you with a sense of uncertainty and questioning.
“I can’t leave.” His tone is fixed and set and it leaves you silent, a frown on your lips as he explains himself. “I have a responsibility. Even though I completely forgot that I’m throwing this party, I’m still the host. if something happens under my roof, under my party. I just – I can’t have that.”
“What could go wrong?”
He truly can’t believe you’re asking that, he widens his eyes in surprise. “So much. It’s mainly the concern of dodgy people selling drugs and fights. I need to monitor it.”
You rarely get angry and even though you’re not, you feel the first sign of it. “It’s not your responsibility. Why do you always throw parties?”
“To give people a good time and it’s for me as well, I love getting high and partying.”
The judgement in your tone is faint but you can’t help it. “Are you sure it gives you a good time? You know you need to put yourself first. You could just… I don’t know… go to the cinema or go to the pub for a wind down. Does it always have to be clubbing, drinking, alcohol and drugs?”
You can’t even tell if your words had any effect on him as he simply doesn’t react. It’s like he’s ignored everything that you’ve said. He’s quick to change the subject. “Please can you stay? I’ll get an uber for you if you can’t but it will feel really pointless if I can’t be with you after all this.”
You purse your lips and contemplate. “ This isn’t really my scene.”
“I’ll be with you the whole night.”
You’re silent, contemplating, making a list of pros and cons in your head. You know that if it takes you this long to decide something then you should probably just go against it but it’s the way he’s looking at you which is making you consider staying. He’s totally checking you out. Eyes lingering on you with an intensity. His eyes trace the curve of your shoulders, gaze holding a certain hunger, lingering on the subtle contours of your figure, appreciating the sensuality in every curve. It's a magnetic stare, filled not just with desire but also a deep, sultry fascination, as if savouring the allure of someone already known but continually unveiling new layers.
"Do you feel good? Do you feel sexy?" He breathes into your ear, a seductive murmur that elicits a whimper. He's a master at this game, a menace, knowing exactly how to coax a "yes" from your lips.
“I do.”
“It will be a shame if you don’t stay.” He peers deep into your eyes, his gaze pleading, and his lips forming a pout.
“Why?”
“You’re someone who deserves to be shown off,” he confesses, taking your hand above your head and spinning you around. He whistles at the sight of you. “I wanna show everyone what and who they’re missing out on.”
“You look so fucking good.”
At this moment you think about your ex. You wanted to be more outgoing for him, it’s not that you wanted to change who you were, you just wanted to be more adaptable and better at adapting to surroundings and atmospheres you’re unfamiliar with but you failed to do so for him, your own insecurities and lack of self confidence led to the ultimate break up.
You don’t want the same to happen, you want to be a better version of yourself. Maybe you’ll have a good time, who knows?
You nod and he smiles. “Thank you, baby.”
“I’m not gonna drink though. I know that’s gonna be like avoiding the plague in a setting like this but I don’t want to even go near alcohol. I don’t know how your parties work but if someone tries to give me a drink or even sell to me I’m gonna be so uncomfortable.”
He tightens his grip on your hand, if even possible. “I’ll be with you, don’t worry.”
“Maybe I’ll have one drink if my favourite wine is here.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You drink?”
"I don’t mind a glass every now and then; I just don’t like intense drinking; it gives me a headache," you say, pouting slightly. He can't help but find you incredibly cute, yet the paradox of your differences intrigues him. You, the last girl he imagined falling for, bring a delicious thrill down his spine. The contrast in your preferences and personalities adds a layer of excitement, making every moment with you an unpredictable journey he's more than willing to explore.
He speaks as he opens the door, leading you out of the confined room. “What’s your favourite drink?”
“I like a glass of Moscato here and there.” You smile, you’d love it right now. Its delicate notes of peach and orange blossom provide a pleasant, easy-going flavor that suits your taste preferences. This choice allows for you to have an occasional, milder indulgence without the heaviness often associated with other wines.
“Just keep by my side, ignore everyone else.” He sweetly smiles.
As you exit the confined room, You feel a newfound assurance coursing through you. With Jeno by her side, a steady and comforting presence, you navigate through the vibrant chaos of the party with a relaxed demeanour. The pulsating music and lively chatter now serve as a backdrop to your shared world. You don’t know how long it will last.
Jeno, true to his promise, remains a constant support, his hand lightly resting on the small of your back, a subtle reassurance that empowers you. As you step back into the lively atmosphere, Your gaze meets the curious and judgmental stares with newfound confidence. The weight of scrutiny dissipates, replaced by a sense of self-assurance, as you and Jeno seamlessly blend into the rhythm of the party, ready to enjoy the night together.
Moments later, Jeno gives you a cup, a knowing and prideful glint in his eyes as he does so, you eye it with confusion and wonder if he understood any of what you said to him but when he tells you to just trust him, you can’t fight with that.
As you take a sip, the liquid cascades down your throat, awakening a familiar sensation that extends beyond the taste buds. Moscato. The rich warmth of the beverage creates a parallel with the comfort you feel in Jeno's presence. It's not just the drink; it's the uncanny similarity between the smooth, familiar taste and the ease you experience with him.
“You’re unbelievable.” You mutter. In this moment, as you feel the warmth of the alcohol and his attentive gesture, your trust in Jeno deepens, a subtle fire of desire kindling within you. No one has ever made her feel so seen and appreciated, and the subtle undercurrent of attraction you feel for him heightens with each sip and lingering gaze.
“Try it.” You offer it to him, wide eyed with excitement as you hand him the same cup you drink from.
He has the smallest sip you’ve ever seen, giving you the fakest smile, you bite your tongue to hold back the laughter. “Mmmmhh.” He says, the enthusiasm not sounding wholehearted.
“You hate it.” You laugh and he nods, pouring one of his favourite beverages into another cup, when he makes you drink a sip of his for good measure, you nearly gag.
“Do we have anything in common?”
He shakes his head but answers sweetly. “It doesn’t matter.”
As time unfolds, Jeno's attentive nature becomes a delightful revelation, driving you to appreciate his considerate gestures. A dedicated table adorned with your favourite wine showcases a level of thoughtfulness that doesn't go unnoticed. While you're not going overboard with the drinks, the comfort of having the choice makes the evening feel personalised.
His attention extends to the music, playing tunes that align with your preferences. The amusing looks of distaste he expresses to certain songs add a playful touch, making the atmosphere all the more enjoyable. To top it off, the order includes the food you love, a shared delight in the delicious sushi, creating a thrilling connection between you both. Jeno's attentiveness transforms the evening into a curated experience, and you find yourself revelling in the charm of these thoughtful nuances.
“Don’t touch that.” He warns the partygoer who has his hand outstretched, ready to eat the sushi.
“It’s ok.” You shake your head, amused at Jeno.
People are saying hi to him every second, he returns the greetings and your eyes widen every time at the mass volume of faces you see, they’re all unfamiliar, it makes you think that you truly do stick with your two friends and that’s it.
It’s attractive how he can have his attention on so much yet at the same time, he monitors the party well. He’s stopped a few fights from happening and has kicked out anyone he doesn’t want here. He’s had his eye on everything and it proves a success, nothing has gone wrong. You feel like his mere presence just prevents disaster.
As he’s focusing on other things, it still feels like his full attention is on you, he’s stayed right by your side like he promised. He’s even introduced you to a few of his friends, you like to think of it more as acquaintances, there’s no way someone can have that many friends.
He whispers sweet words in your ears every now and then, his soft voice comforting you and taking you away from this lively setting.
“Let’s dance, baby.”
He’s a natural and he’s so attractive it almost starts to hurt.
You’re captivated by him, his movements seamlessly syncing with the rhythm. There's an innate allure in the way he moves, a magnetic confidence that radiates from every step and sway. The play of lights accentuates the contours of his figure, highlighting the subtle strength in his dance. As he loses himself in the music, a certain intensity flickers in his eyes, adding an extra layer to his already enticing presence. Watching Jeno move becomes a tantalising experience, awakening a newfound appreciation for the magnetic and undeniably sexy allure he effortlessly emanates
“Just let loose, baby.”
You do just that.
In the intimate embrace of the dance, your bodies press flush against each other, a magnetic connection that defies the rhythm of the music. Jeno's lips find yours in a heated dance of their own, exploring with fervour. His hands trace the contours of your body, igniting sparks of desire with every touch. In this heated moment, the world dissolves, and his focus is solely on you. It's a dance where lips speak volumes, and the only audience that matters is the intoxicating connection shared between you two.
You feel happy. Your heart beats to a melody of sheer bliss, and a contagious smile graces your lips. You realise he doesn’t shy away from PDA, he’s very touchy. You know he’s held back for so long when the two of you were just friends but now that he has the green light that you like him too, it’s full on. You thought he had become 100% with you, little do you know he’s still holding back.
“Where were we gonna go?” You ask him, curious as to what the plan was before you unexpectedly came to his party.
“It was a reservation at that place you told me about.”
Your mouth opens wide, shocked that he managed to reserve it but also sorrowful that you couldn’t make it. You much rather be there with him.
“Don’t worry, I’ll book it for another day.” He promises.
✧ ✧ ✧
Later that night, you find yourself sitting on his lap, falling deeply into the solace in your room, the atmosphere shifting from the chaotic party to an intimate haven. Legs on either side of him, you comfortably straddle Jeno, who's clearly a bit wasted. His eyelids have doubled in size, and he exudes a more flamboyant and touchy demeanour.
It's a welcomed change from the loud festivities, just the two of you basking in the quietude of the room. Smiles exchanged between you carry the weight of shared moments, and eye smiles speak volumes in the silence. There's a comfortable simplicity in the lack of conversation; you find contentment in merely sitting together.
Jeno, under the influence, becomes even more touchy, his hands finding solace on your thighs. In this tranquil haven, his touches add a layer of warmth, creating a cocoon of intimacy where unspoken connections thrive. The night unfolds with a unique serenity, a delicate dance between smiles, touches, and the quiet companionship that transcends words.
"I'm sorry," you whisper, your bottom lip slightly pouted with guilt as Jeno winces. Amidst the tender touches, you've also been tending to his wounds. Despite Jeno's insistence on preventing fights at his parties, he made an exception this time. The guy had crossed a line, taking upskirt photos and making several girls uncomfortable. Jeno, unable to tolerate such behavior, took matters into his own hands, resulting in his current state.
As you carefully dab sanitized cotton pads on his wounds, placing plasters where needed, a quiet understanding passes between you two. Jeno's soft eyes meet yours, and in that moment, the silent acknowledgment of the unwavering bond you share transcends the chaos of the night.
Jeno is a mixture of emotions, pain and pleasure, he’s huffing and puffing. It all comes to a halt when you lean forward with an endearing tenderness, kissing the spots where he is hurt. Your lips, soft and gentle, leave a trail of comfort over each injury, a healing touch that goes beyond the physical.
Jeno, despite the pain, finds himself captivated by your sweetness. Your cute and gentle demeanor sparks a warmth within him, and a subtle smile plays on his lips. The intimacy of the moment transcends the physical, creating a connection that's as soothing as it is alluring. In this exchange, the boundary between care and desire blurs, leaving you immersed in a shared space.
You’ve never seen him as needy as he is right now.
“You don’t regret tonight, do you?” His voice sounds lower and deeper.
You think about how much went off track tonight but the unpredictability was a welcome surprise for you, you felt settled and secure. “I don’t.”
“You’re such a good girl.” He says, voice filled with adoration, words whispered in a low moan.
As the night breathes tranquility into the room, Jeno's hands find their way to the zipper of your dress, mirroring the earlier gesture of care when he zipped you up. Now, in the quiet confines of your room, the air charged with a subtle intimacy, he gently unzips your dress. The delicate touch of his hands grazing your back sends a shiver down your spine, an unspoken promise lingering in the atmosphere.
In the soft glow of the room, Jeno's touches transition from practical to tender. At some point, his lips find the curve of your back, planting kisses that create a symphony of sensations. Each touch, each kiss, weaves a delicate narrative of a shared connection, an uncharted intimacy unfolding in the hushed moments of the night. The room becomes a haven where gestures speak louder than words, and the dance of hands and kisses paints a portrait of a connection that transcends the boundaries of the night.
“My. Good. Girl.” He says between kisses.
In the soft glow of the room, Jeno's passionate kisses ignite a fervor between you and him. Your dress remains unzipped, a subtle invitation that adds an electric charge to the moment. As you straddle him, a perceptible difference in his demeanour emerges — a heightened passion, electrified and intensified, likely due to being under the influence. Each touch a silent confession that speaks louder than words in the hushed ambiance of the room. He tastes like blueberries, you were sure it was the artificial flavour of the vape he had been smoking from all night,
You gently break the kiss, both of you left flustered and breathless, the air pulsating with a shared intensity that hangs between you. The unspoken energy lingers, leaving a charged silence that speaks volumes. This is a lot for you. Before you carry on, you want to know where you stand because you really fucking like him and you trust him, you’ve never imagined that you could be capable of having such strong feelings.
“Are you my boyfriend?”
He’s silent for a while and your heart nearly stops. You knew it. You fucking knew it. It was too good to be true.
Just as you were about to get the hell out of here, to recollect whatever you had left in you, he turns to you with the gentlest expression you’ve seen from him yet. It’s there, unmistakably, in the warmth of his eyes—a promise of trust and a sentiment you can fall for.
You’ve never wanted him more than you do in this moment, and just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he utters it loud and clear, his voice a proclamation of emotions. “Yeah,” he says, smiling at your shy reaction, and in that moment, you can sense the honesty in his words.
He confesses with a joyful certainty, “I’m your boyfriend,” and the air becomes charged with a newfound sweetness. It’s a declaration that dances in your heart, and as the words settle. He’s never felt this feeling before. It’s a cute and wholesome moment, an admission that wraps around you both like a warm, comforting embrace.
Lost in the warmth of the moment, Jeno leans in, his lips meeting yours in a gentle yet deep kiss. The embrace is like sinking into a plush cushion, soft and enveloping. Lingering in the sweetness of the kiss, you both get lost in each other, the world outside fading away.
You break away before it gets heated, giggling when he grunts. “Ask me to be your girlfriend then.”
In the soft glow of the moment, you can't help but pout, a playful desire dancing in your eyes. It’s something you want to hear, a declaration that would make this moment even more special.
Seeing your yearning, he smiles, a beautifully genuine expression that holds the promise of something sweet. Unable to resist, he gives in to your request. "Will you be my girlfriend?" he asks, the words carrying the weight of a shared journey yet to unfold.
With a joyous grin, you respond, "Yeah, I will," sealing the moment with the confirmation you longed for. The air becomes charged with a newfound sweetness, and without hesitation, you close the distance between you two, a kiss marking the beginning of a beautiful chapter in your story.
Your lips move with a tender intensity, exploring his as if they hold the secrets of the universe. It's a deep connection. In this moment, the world outside is just a distant echo, and the only reality is the lingering taste of the kiss and the profound sense of being lost in each other's lips.
✧ ✧ ✧
In the midst of your relationship with him, you learned that you were his first girlfriend. You were the first person he had fallen for. Sometimes it felt like you didn’t know what you were doing, relationships were hard work but together, you fumbled through the learning curve, discovering an effortless synergy that made everything click.
As the closeness between you deepened, trust became the foundation of your connection. Previously, the memory of maintaining a distance while brainstorming ideas for the project has transformed into a stark contrast. Now, most study sessions end with you perched on his lap, the desk serving as an impromptu space for shared moments and passionate make-out sessions.
Navigating the challenges of academics together, he's proven to be both needy and comforting. Whether engrossed in gaming or university work, your presence becomes a constant as you find your place on his lap, offering silent support as he tackles tasks. The boundaries between your personal and academic lives blur, but in the chaos, you discover a comfort that transcends the ordinary.
Your relationship remains discreet, known only to those closest to you both. The private nature of your connection shields it from unwanted attention. Despite the potential challenges of not flaunting your relationship on campus, you find solace in his ability to always find a way to be with you. His frequent presence at your house becomes a source of comfort, and the moments he's absent leave an unmistakable void.
Every interaction is amplified in this heightened state of intimacy – eye contact carries newfound depth, touches resonate with electric energy, smiles become contagious, and each make-out session becomes a magnetic force pulling you closer. In this world shared only between you and him, the ordinary transforms into extraordinary moments that you wouldn't trade for anything.
Amidst the intoxicating blend of newfound romance and shared moments, there was one significant aspect that set your relationship apart. Despite being together for three months, the physical intimacy you shared hadn't yet extended to the realm of sex. It wasn't a reluctance on his part, it was you who wasn’t ready. However, there was a mutual understanding that you needed more time before taking that step.
One evening, after another study session that left the desk abandoned for a more comfortable spot on the couch, you initiated a conversation that had been lingering in the background. In the quiet sanctuary of your shared moments, you asked, "Jeno, you're not mad at me that we haven't done it yet, are you?" His response was a gentle shake of the head, accompanied by a reassuring smile. "No, baby, I'm ready when you are." His lips meet yours while you secure your thighs around his sides.
The weight of unspoken emotions lifted, and as your eyes met, you exchanged a silent understanding. "I won't leave you waiting long," you promised, a declaration that sent a delicious thrill down his spine. In that moment, your connection deepened, anchored by patience, respect, and your unspoken promise.
✧ ✧ ✧
It’s Jeno’s birthday. You’ve been planning this day for a little while now, you woke him up with a kiss at midnight, wishing him a happy birthday which led into a heated makeout session. Then when the sun rose, you made him breakfast, his favourite, pancakes and fruit.
He’s currently at his house to see his friends and family, he’s been gone for a few hours and promised you he’d come back for you soon. you’ve meticulously prepared your home for his return. The bedroom is adorned with candles, rose petals and low music creating an intimate ambiance, setting the stage for the surprise you’ve been eagerly anticipating.
You had all his presents in a designated area but the main present was what you were willing to give him, what you were finally ready for. Sunwoo had suggested that you go lingerie shopping.
Sunwoo was someone in your psychology class, you had become friends with him relatively quickly. He reminded you of Jeno, sweet but with a darker side, that’s probably why you got along with him so well. You found yourself conversing with him the most during your classes, opening up about your life, your relationship. Surprisingly, he knew the most about you and Jeno, as a fellow psychology student he was able to give you good advice and lead you towards acting with more emotional intelligence. He gave you a lot of tips for your first time, that explains why you were here, lingerie shopping.
You tried on piece after piece, your eyes lighting at how good they made you feel and look. You couldn’t believe how they accentuate your curves and cleavage, you looked hot and you were sure Jeno would think so too.
And now, you’re adorned in a captivating piece with a silk robe, your excitement palpable. Jeno has texted you that he’s 5 minutes away, nerves and giddiness take over. You’ve invested time in perfecting your makeup and hair, hoping he notices the effort.
“Hey.” You open the door to him, you’re already blushing. Your arms are around him as soon as he enters your house.
“Hey, you look beautiful.” He whispers into your ear kissing your lips briefly. He lets go to hand you over a bouquet of vibrant flowers. The colours seemed to mirror the warmth in his eyes as he extended the bouquet towards you, a silent gesture that spoke volumes of his affection.
“For you.” His gentle smile warms you, or was it his soft lips that he pressed against your cheek?
You thank him with gratitude. “It’s your birthday though.”
“I’m thankful for you.” You sigh, looking at the man who well and truly owns your heart. “It will look good in that vase by the window in my room. Speaking of my room, come with me.” You hand out stretches for him and he takes it then let’s go, you shoot him a confused glance until he suddenly lifts you up. you squel, legs around his waist as he leads you up the stairs and to your room, a journey that he knows too well.
As you enter your room, he gently places you down, his eyes instantly igniting with desire at the sight of you. A breathtaking smile graces his face, a mix of gratitude and admiration evident in his eyes. "Thank you, my love," he murmurs, hand covering his heart, and his gaze overflowing with warmth as it locks onto yours.
"You like it?" you inquire, and a subtle nod is accompanied by a tender embrace, his arms enveloping you securely. He pulls you close, resting his head against your shoulder, an intimate moment filled with unspoken emotions. "I have more gifts for you later, but for now, there's one special gift I want to share."
His anticipation heightens as you guide him to sit on the bed. You notice his eyes deepening with desire, a subtle gulp betraying his eagerness. As you approach, a confident smile plays on your lips. Standing in front of him, you take the lead, revealing the silk robe's buttons.
His breath quickens, a heavy exhale escaping in a mix of impatience and desire. There's a primal urgency in the way he reacts, a husky moan escaping as he practically tears the buttons away, surprising you with his raw intensity, far from the delicate touch you anticipated.
You look him in the eye as you lead his hands to the buttons on your bathrobe, he becomes speechless as he rips the buttons off.
You embody a confidence that is alluring. The lingerie is elegant and sensual, a beautiful mix of silk and lace. The bra is a deep red with gold trimming, while the corset is made from a thin layer of silk with a layer of lace over the top. The panties are cut low on the hips, with a thin lace trim on the edge. The whole look is very feminine and sensual, making you feel like a goddess.
“Y/N…” He moans loudly, fingertips burning into your sides as his eyes roam over you, taking in every inch of your gorgeous and seductive body. “You planned this for me?” Jeno’s voice is a low growl, fingers fumbling with the buttons on your robe, eager to unwrap the gift you’ve prepared.
Your curves are perfect, like a goddess. Your skin is smooth and silky under the moonlight, the lace around your hips draws his attention first, eyes wavering as he doesn’t know where to look. You embody confidence, a goddess in the sultry lingerie — deep red silk with gold trim, a perfect blend of elegance and sensuality. The corset, a delicate layer of silk overlaid with lace, accentuates your curves. His moans echo your allure, fingers burning into your sides as his hungry gaze roams over your captivating figure
The red silk of your bra isn’t covering anything, it’s so see through and he can see your hard nipples peeking through the gold trimming, his mouth watering as he wants to wrap his tongue around the bud of skin, he wants to be sucking your nipples. Everything about you is perfect, from your smooth skin to your slender frame.
“F-Fuck, baby,” he grunts, strong hands, his arm veins bulging out as he’s tugging at the lingerie, unable to contain his impatience. “Need this off. Need to see you.” He says with an impatient growl, the material ripping off and breaking in one swift movement as he palms his erection, hands moving underneath his boxers as you can hear how wet he is
Pouting, you protest, “Jeno, I got this for you. It’s special.”
“I don’t care, baby. I’ll buy you more. Need to feel you,” he replies. You’re left standing bare, his eyes devouring every inch of your exposed beauty. You don’t shy away from his heated gaze, looking you up and down with such fervent and impatience in his expression.
He lets out the loudest moan, eyes lingering on your boobs and your pussy, mouth watering and breath hitched in his throat. “Fuck baby, You’re all mine.” He whispers into your ear, bringing you down onto the bed and then turning the two of you around so you were under him. He palms his clothed erection, leaning down to rub it against your outer core, dry humping but only you were naked. “Do you see how hard you make me? Fuck, you turn me on so much.”
Curiosity takes your hands under his boxers, exploring his length. A soft whimper escapes as you realize the sheer size. Desperate to feel him, your hands glide along, expressing the longing within. “I’ve dreamt of you inside me for so long,” you confess, your voice filled with anticipation.
Locking your gaze in place, he cradles your head, maintaining the connection. His lips explore your breasts with tender kisses, leaving a trail of wetness and red marks. “You’re everything,” you murmur, hands embracing his cock, tracing its length. “I’ve yearned for this.”
You gasp out his name when his lips pepper around your nipple, moving with a delicious ferver, kissing and sucking with equal measure, his tongue darting out to soothe any spot where he's been too rough. He releases your nipple with a loud pop, his loud moan making your pussy acne. His lips move to your interboob, peppering wet kisses along the skin, his trail leaving wetness and red marks.
He locks your head in one place, forcing you to keep your gaze focused on him. “Tell me, how badly do you want me?”
You flutter your eyelashes at him, moaning loudly, breathing frantically. You don’t want to mask yourself, you move your finger inside your clit, dragging it in one swift motion to reveal how wet you are. This action undeniably turns him on, what fucks him up even more is when you brazenly place your digit into his mouth, your unspoken words to demonstrate how wet you are. The taste of you sends a refreshing chill through his taste buds, as your icy sweetness gradually melts and coats his tongue.
“You need to use your words.” He breathes out heavily, ironically he’s struggling to balance breathing and speaking.
You cup his cheeks and hold him close, gently kissing him, your eyes soft and inviting, the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen and it’s driving him crazy, he wants to ruin you yet you’re still acting so fucking cute.
“I want you so fucking bad. I want you to eat my cunt and then fuck my cunt, Jeno, please, baby.”
You feel his hot breath on your face, dark eyes as he comes to whisper against your ear. “So wet and horny for me already, this is better than what I’ve imagined. Look at what a dirty little whore you are for me, so wet for me, begging for me to fuck your cunt.”
You hear a dark chuckle beside your ear and then you’re flipped around, you’re on top of him, you nearly got whiplash from how quickly he grabbed your hips and switched your positions.
“Come and sit on my face.” He commands, a tone that you don’t want to cross with. You’re so turned on, pussy throbbing for him that you forget to move. “Right now.”
“That’s it, baby.” He mumbles against your skin, gripping the meat on your thighs, hands gripping your bare ass to pull you down until you’ve securely framed his face. He can’t help but spank you before delving into your cunt.
His tongue delves into you without warning, your clit throbbing for him. He eats like a man starved, tongue delving into all the right places, eliciting a moan from you. Your thighs shake around his head as he tongue fucks uou at a more accelerated pace, the wetness of your pussy meeting his tongue. He devours all the juices with a groan.
“So fucking tight for me, pretty girl.” He grunts against you, a smooching sound and he kisses your cunt over and over again. “I love how you taste, such a good fucking girl.” He’s filled with praises today.
He makes room for three digits, an act that perplexes you because your cunt seemed so small and his fingers were so long. Your hands squeeze against his roots as he fingers you, his metal rings creating a coldness as he caresses your folds, an upward motion that makes you scream his name.
He tuts at what a dirty girl you’re being when you keep pushing down, your core pressing down so hardly on his nose but you’re so desperate for more, you’re on the verge of becoming undone on his tongue and fingers. Tears prick your eyes, you’re overstimulated at this point, whining and pleading with your eyes but it’s not enough.
“I’m not gonna let you cum yet.”
You cry out. “Why not?”
He doesn’t answer but you know why, it’s because he’s not done.
So you start begging and pleading, you tell him what he wants to hear, pulling at his strings how you know best. “You’re the owner of me.” You smile, thrusting against him as your grip on his hair tightens. “My cunt is all yours.”
He’s silent for a moment, then you feel the sides of his lips curve upwards against you. “All mine.” He whispers, leaving a spongy and chaste kiss against your clit. “I own you cunt.” His tongue laps at a faster rate, it only takes a few seconds for your high to come.
“Cum in me, baby.” You’re shaking above him and screaming out his name, the hot liquid pours into his mouth at once, he savours every last drop, the taste of you sending a delicious thrill down his spine.
As soon as you’ve wind down from your orgasm, you let out a whimper, looking at him with a frustrated pout, tugging on his hair once again. “Fuck me. Now.” He smiles at you, looking you deep in the eyes to capture the moment. He’s frozen in time, you lie there, a captivating beauty that demands attention. Your beauty unfolds gracefully, a canvas of anticipation. Patience graces your demeanour, a cute smile playing on your lips. Eyes wide with eagerness, each breath carries a weight of intensity. Messy hair adds a touch of chaos to the scene, a testament to passion's fervor. Love bites adorn your neck, eyeliner trailing down your face, mascara smudged and lipstick kissed away. Your swollen lips speak volumes. In this enchanting moment, he utters, "So fucking beautiful," and you become entirely his.
“I could just cum looking at you. Fuck baby don’t make me cum yet, it’s all about you.”
You pout. “It’s your birthday.”
He kisses your cheek softly. “It’s all about you.”
He curses suddenly and it draws your surprise, he looks at you with apology, disappointment thick in his eyes. “I forgot to bring protection, what the fuck is wrong with me? It’s the one important –”
You cut him off, a smile playing on your lips as you guide him to your entrance. “I started the pill a month ago.” You have been planning this day. He moans, a mix of being turned on and having adoration for you filling his desires. “You’re so good to me. You’re all mine.” He breathes heavily, lips closing onto yours as he enters you with a big grunt.
The second the sensation hits you, you cry out his name. “Fuck! You’re so fucking big.” You grip onto his forearms, head hitting the pillow as you look down to see where you’re connected, breath moving with anxiety when you realise his tip has only entered you.
“It won’t fit.” You cry out, covering your face with your hands. You navigate a mix of sensations, discomfort and pleasure. Jeno coos in your ear, easing you into him, expertly stretching you out, the discomfort slowly transforms into a growing sensation of pleasure.
“Yes it will.” His words convey the shared ecstasy of the moment, kissing your face softly and whispering praise upon praise as you ease into him, your tense body starting to relax and melt into his. “You’re such a good girl for me, taking me so well.” The connection between you intensifies with each rhythmic motion.
Your boyfriends deep voice echoes, he’s calling you all sorts, his good girl, his baby girl, he’s filled with praises but you're lost in a distant reverie, enveloped in the euphoria of his rhythmic movements, his cock sliding against your walls and reaching a realm so deep. Each thrust brings forth sharp gasps, the intimate connection intensifying as he explores deeper realms of pleasure. The sensation, a culmination of his every movement, is undeniably gratifying, leaving you immersed in the exquisite pleasure of the moment.
“You’re taking me so fucking well.”
Jeno admires the scene, picking up the pace with a faster rhythm, thrusting out just to keep slamming into you. Your toes curl in pleasure, your flushed face and agape mouth reflecting the intensity of the moment. Moans escape your mouth as desire takes over, your eyes glazed with lust, looking down as his hands cup your breasts, each thrust accentuates the pleasure, causing your tits to bounce with abandon.
Intense and breathless, he expresses his overwhelming pleasure with a raw exclamation. responding with short gasps to each thrust. Skin slapping against skin, heavy breaths, his low moans, your calling out of his name and the rhythm of his intense thrusts fill the room, creating a charged atmosphere.
Adjusting your position, he lifts your hips and throws one of your legs over his shoulder, his cock delving into you even deeper. The exquisite sensation elicits a visceral response, your nails finding purchase in the skin of his forearms as pleasure courses through every inch of your being.
You’re quite simply cock drunk. “You’re gonna break my bed.” You scream, the squeaking becoming a constant. He hugs your g-spot over and over, hips moving at speed as you scream his name, back arching and toes curling, making it clear that he's the sole master of your ecstasy in that moment.
You find him utterly breathtaking like this, eyes filled with lust, his muscular scent, sweet sticking to his forehead, his radiant face under the moonlight. His beauty remains undeniable. “You’re mine, only mine,” You declare, this time it’s you solidifying the possessive connection in the midst of the intimate encounter.
“That’s right.” He smirks with satisfaction.
The knot tightens in your stomach and your mind succumbs to a blissful haze. You wrap your legs around his waist and he fucks you in this new position, deeper and harder.
“Jeno, fuck! I’m gonna cum!” you cry out. Hands gripping the sides of his face, smiling as you close the distance, symbolising your connection in a shared kiss.
“Me too, baby, me too.” His eyes rolling to the back of his head, hands roaming your body as his grunts and moans elevate,
“Cum in me.” You let out a small whisper, a heavy sigh of desperation as your pussy feels numb, you see stars behind your eyelids as he coos in your ear. Caught in a post-orgasmic daze, you sense Jeno’s movements slowing, his groans low and primal. As he releases inside you, the intimate connection lingers in the hushed aftermath.
Exhausted but determined, you summon every ounce of strength, gripping onto his shoulders and managing to turn him around. Despite the weariness, you take charge, your wearied efforts transforming into a newfound control as you settle on top of him.
Fatigued but fueled by desire, you climb back onto his cock. The fusion of weariness and desire manifests in every deliberate movement, creating an enticing dance as you reclaim the intimate connection. Guided by a languid rhythm, you move up and down, your movements acquiring a delightful sloppiness and an unbridled sensuality.
“Oh?” He questions, playful and surprised tone as he raises an eyebrow. Despite the confusion, a smirk plays on his lips as he gazes up at you. His eyes, filled with affection, he doesn't question your actions, yielding to your lead as you continue to ride him.
“You gonna ride me baby? Gonna take the lead?” He questions as you straddle him with a sensual grace, your movements creating a mesmerizing rhythm. Each rise and fall is a languid dance, your body moving with a delightful combination of passion and fatigue. The connection between you intensifies, the room filled with the subtle sounds of your shared pleasure. As you ride him, his appreciative gaze reflects both desire and affection, forming a silent but profound connection between your entwined bodies.
While you’re on top, he still has to make it clear that he’s taking the lead, a playful smirk on his lips, as one of his hands guides your movements, orchestrating the rise and fall of your body. The other hand, however, held a more commanding role, wrapping around your throat with a controlled intensity, you struggled for breath and it made you dizzy, your rise and fall on his cock becoming sloppier.
“Dirty slut is so eager to ride my cock but now you’re getting tired?” He hisses, tutting as he shakes his head.
You shook your head, breathing in deep as you put all of your strength into moving up and down his cock, the synchronisation of your bodies became a sensual performance, each deliberate motion met with a reaction that heightened the intimacy. His touch was both guiding and possessive, the mix of sensations sending shivers down your spine. The room echoed with the rhythmic sounds of your shared desire, creating a symphony that underscored the unconventional celebration.
Eventually, as the intensity peaked, he encouraged your surrender. You collapsed onto him, limbs entwined, the air heavy with the scent of passion. His firm hold remained, a subtle assertion of dominance even in the aftermath. Exhausted yet content, you found solace in each other's embrace. Drifting into sleep, the room remained cloaked in the warmth of the shared celebration, a birthday memory unlike any other.
In the tender aftermath, Jeno swiftly leans down to share another kiss, lips melding seamlessly. His touch, now gentle, explores your hair, while your hands cradle his face. Traces of each other linger on your bodies, leaving indelible imprints. The nature of your connection might be uncertain, but a serene tranquillity fills the air as he gazes into your eyes, a gentle smile gracing his face, he utters, "You're so beautiful."
You end up falling asleep in Jeno's warm embrace, limbs tangled with limbs, heart beating as one. Amidst his calming snores, you find a happiness that had eluded you for a long time.
✧ ✧ ✧
Your relationship with Jeno, to simply put it, had developed into something beyond your wildest dream. It had evolved into a cascade of passion, sensuality, and profound love. The intimacy between you two deepened, finding solace in each other's embrace more frequently than ever. However, Jeno's imperfection lies in impatience and an insatiable addiction.
He's hooked on you, craving the essence of your being — your body, the echoes of his name in ecstasy, the taste of your release, the feel of your lips, the warmth of your intimate connection. In a fervent repetition, he murmurs "mine, mine, mine" against your skin, solidifying the possessive claim he's staked over you.
His impatience surfaces as an ever-present yearning. When you're not around, he misses you deeply, and the count of unannounced visits to your door is immeasurable. His unconventional greetings involve sealing his lips against yours, a silent declaration of his longing that often echoes through the early morning hours, punctuated by the sound of your shared passion.
You're equally sucked in the allure of addiction, captivated by Jeno, the enigma you've grown to adore. The depth of your connection extends beyond the fiery passions to the tender embrace of his arms wrapping around you, you feel endless warmth and security. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath your head becomes a lullaby, soothing you into a serene state. In the quiet moments, tangled in each other's limbs, you find solace and an escape from the chaos of the world. Waking up to the tender gaze of his soft eyes and the warmth of his gentle smile has become the cherished highlight of your days.
You’ve become undone by his cock or his tongue in an array of intoxicating positions and locations. In the heat of his car, vacant rooms on campus or when you both escaped to a secluded retreat for three nights, the allure of each moment intensifies. You spent the entirety under sheets, the steamy rhythm of the shower, against walls, upon the floor, and against your desk— every corner of your house has been a canvas for your desires.
His touch, both restrained and blindfolded, adds a layer of mystery and anticipation, creating an irresistible blend of pleasure and surrender. Your lingerie, once delicately clinging to your curves, now bears the marks of his primal hunger, a testament to the wild intensity that defines your connection. The diversity of these encounters paints a vivid picture of your love, leaving an unmistakable imprint on every surface and scrap of fabric shared between you. Each escapade is a symphony of passion, a daring exploration of desire that keeps the flame burning bright in the intimate spaces you've claimed together.
You always find yourself restrained, blindfolded, there hasn’t been a piece of lingerie that hasn’t ripped from your body.
He can be soft too.
The overwhelming sensations he feels for you, the flutters and heavy beating of his heart. The sex between you and Jeno very rarely, but more often than he expected, takes on a soft and sweet rhythm. It’s a realm of vulnerability and tenderness, a side of him unexplored and new, venturing into the realms of vanilla passion.
After dates, he brings you home, his sanctuary, where the air is infused with affection and the scent of shared moments. His lips on every inch of your skin, an exploration of your body. His touches echo with reverence, each inch of your skin becoming a canvas for his affection. The air is filled with soft whispers, intimate and strong eye contact, soft smiles and the gentle hums of each other's names, a private serenade that only the two of you share.
In a surprising deviation from the usual, he doesn’t hastily rip away your lingerie but takes a moment to appreciate the delicate lace and silk adorning you. It becomes an act of love, a departure from the fervour, as he makes love to you whilst you’re adorned in the sensual lace.
Soft smiles exchange like secret promises, and amidst it all, his words echo softly, “my pretty girl,” encapsulating the beauty of the shared connection that transcends the raw passion to unveil a softer, more intimate love.
You've seamlessly integrated into Jeno's life, becoming a constant presence at his house, something that used to scare you but now the boundaries between you and his friends blur. They’re always walking into you and Jeno fucking, you have this acceptance that they have seen you naked.
The unexpected intrusions are sometimes awkward but you’ve learned that your boyfriend secretly loves it, it turns him on. He embraces the fact that they've witnessed you in intimate positions.
There was one memorable evening when Jeno was meant to be preparing dinner for his roommates, Jaemin, Hyuck, and Renjun. However, the evening took an unexpected turn when he found himself utterly distracted by you. What was supposed to be a casual dinner preparation morphed into a passionate encounter, you pushed against the countertop as he fucked into you, the sounds of your pleasure echoing through the walls. Your loud moans carried through the air, and to your surprise, his roommates walked in, initially thinking there was an emergency.
It was a comical yet slightly embarrassing moment, but the incident didn't deter your unabashed enjoyment. You've reached a point where you no longer attempt to stifle your sounds of pleasure, accepting the quirks and unexpected interruptions that come with being an integral part of Jeno's life.
✧ ✧ ✧
While there’s highs in your relationship, there’s undeniable lows. While the passion has increased to another level, so has the arguing.
You remember one time, you were supposed to meet him outside a cinema, he promised to take you out that night, one of your many dates but he never showed up. Instead, he was partying. He spoke to you on the phone, voice filled with apology as he pleaded for you to understand, he quite simply couldn’t get out, it was one of the parties that he attended, it blew out of control.
“I’m sorry baby, I promise I’ll make it up to you.” You heard his apologetic voice, loud music and screams of partygoers in the background.
You’re too frustrated to respond. You hang up the phone with no further words.
You had it planned out in your head, you was gonna give him the intense silent treatment, ignore all his texts and calls, ignore when he rings the bell and most importantly, hold back on kissing or fucking him. Yet here you are at an unreasonable hour, in the front seat of his car, your usual passenger princess role that you had become so accustomed to.
“Y/N.” He gives you a warning, voices a low lull, he wasn’t even looking at you, he stares out the window, gaze distant, refusing to start the car until you gave in to what he wanted.
He knows you’re angry at him. His response to it is what sets you off even more, he’s not said sorry once for standing you up. That’s why you’re acting the way you are, refusing to meet his eyes, dodging his lips when he greeted you, pushing him away when he tried to hug you.
That’s why your hands stay nestled in your lap, you don’t want his contact but eventually you need to give in. Your boyfriend, being the most stubborn person you know, would not start the car until you held his hand, he doesn’t tell you that it’s the reason he’s staying still, jaw locked as he looks out the window but his warning as he called out your name and his outstretched hand is enough to make you sigh in defeat, giving in and taking his hand in yours. He always does this. He drives with one hand if it means that he can hold your hand and touch your thigh with the other.
The second his hand tightened around yours, you feel guilty at how his touch instantly electrified you, sending warm chills down your body. You missed him so much. He finally starts the car, turning to you with that smile you love so much, one that pulls at your heartstring.
As he held your hand with his vacant one, kissing your palm softly.
“I’m so sorry, baby.” He’s apologised to you but you take nothing from it.
He sighs, realising that you’re giving him the silent treatment but he still continues his praises and sweet talking to you. “You look so pretty, you don’t think I’ve noticed? I’ll make it all up to you, I promise.”
You gulp, biting your tongue to hold back from breaking down in front of him. It’s true. You’re so dolled up, you spent so long getting ready, smiling once you saw the finished result, the prettiest full face of makeup and one of the dresses Jeno had gifted you, all for the self confidence to come crashing down when he never showed up.
“Aren’t you even gonna ask me why I couldn’t come?” He questions, opening the passenger door for you, hand outstretched to which you ignore.
You cross your arms against your chest. “I don’t care.”
He sighs. “Are you gonna let me stay the night?” He questions, leaning against the car door, eyes searching yours for a hint of forgiveness. The silence between you is heavy, tension palpable in the air.
Finally, you break the silence with a reluctant nod. He smiles, a mixture of relief and gratitude, and you find yourself softening despite your initial resolve.
There was two reasons why you said yes. You did miss him, you’ve become accustomed to falling asleep in his arms and you need him now more than other and the second reason was a bit selfish.
Jeno’s smile fades as he takes in the room with awe, the flickering candles casting shadows that dance across his face. Rose petals are scattered, creating a delicate pathway that seems to lead to a deep well of guilt within him.
“We would be having sex right now, we’d probably be having it all night long but instead you went partying and stood me up.”
His expression shifts, and you sense his internal conflict as he searches for words. “I’m sorry,” he finally utters, the words heavy with sincerity. “Please let me show you how sorry I am. I’ll take you on the best dates for seven nights straight.”
Jeno steps closer, a subtle seduction in his eyes. “Let me try to make it up to you,” he whispers, his voice filled with desperation.
But you stand firm, resisting his advances. “You went partying and stood me up,” you say, frustration coloring your tone. “I’m even wearing something really sexy under this, but it’s your fault that you won’t see it.”
Instinctively, his arms wrap around your waist, he gets whiplash from how fast you jerk away from his touch. His face reflects shock, realizing the consequences of his actions. “You’re not touching me tonight,” you declare, a line drawn in the emotional sand.
Jeno, not used to you rejecting his touch, looks bewildered. “We’re two mature adults,” you continue, your voice firm. “Talk to me about your emotions. I don’t think you’ve ever truly opened up to me.”
"I stayed at the party because of Jaemin, alright? His girlfriend had just dumped him, and he was spiraling out of control. I couldn't leave him alone—I was genuinely worried. You know how he gets, especially with hard drugs in the mix. My instincts were right; without me there, it could've turned into a disaster. He's my best friend, and I have a responsibility to look out for him. I'm truly sorry if my actions hurt you. Next time, I'll handle it better. I want you to know, you're my top priority. You're not my second choice; you're my girlfriend, my girl, and I never want you to feel anything less than my first choice. Always."
You pout, suddenly feeling so guilty. “You should’ve just told me that, next time just tell me the truth, ok? We need communication if this is gonna work.” Your words are punctuated by a tender kiss, a sweet moment as he nods, leaning his head down and resting it against your shoulder.
✧ ✧ ✧
Soft giggles escape your lips, blending with the gentle rustle of leaves as you steal a kiss from him. The world outside becomes a blissful blur, leaving only the two of you in the cocoon of your affection. He looks up at you, moaning softly, his hands gripping the back of your hair to pull you back down to his lips again.
The university campus buzzes with youthful energy, a tapestry of autumn leaves falling gently, creating a mosaic of warm hues. The scent of coffee and distant laughter fills the air, creating an atmosphere of shared dreams and academic pursuits. Amidst this lively backdrop, you and Jeno sit by the beautiful flowers, your favourite summer dress on as he lays his head on your lap, your hands locked as you share a casual lunch on campus with friends.
The sun filters through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground as you lean down to whisper something in his ear, a moment solely for the two of you. In that moment, surrounded by the chatter of friends, you close your lips in on his, the world quieting to the symphony of your happiness.
Your connection with Jeno forms a bubble that shields you from the prying eyes and whispers around you. One unexpected night, Sunwoo’s concern breaks through as you both share the living room, a movie playing in the background.
"Y/N, how is it going with Jeno?" Sunwoo inquires, her words carrying an undercurrent of worry.
A genuine smile lights up your face as you reply, "I'm really happy." However, the joy fades when you see the expression on Sunwoo’s face. "Is everything okay?"
He takes a deep breath, her concern evident. "I care about you, and I just want you to be happy. I can see you're in your honeymoon phase with him, and it's amazing, but please stay careful. I've heard things, and I need you to be aware."
Your head tilts in confusion, and he continues, "People have been mean and jealous, saying horrible things about both of you. I don't want to go into detail, but there are malicious individuals who would do anything to break you two up. Jealousy is a green-eyed devil, and I want you to be cautious. Every time you're seen together on campus, people are talking, and unfortunately, it's not all good. You're drawing a lot of attention, and I need you to be aware of the rumours circulating."
Just like that, your comfort bubble has been shattered. It wasn't his fault; he was being a good friend, and the truth was bound to come to light, considering the magnetic stares that seemed to follow you everywhere. Peering eyes traced your every move, intensifying every time you held hands with Jeno, shared a kiss, or simply engaged in conversation.
Before, you had a shield, a blissful ignorance that shielded you from the judgmental glances and whispered rumours. Now, you have nothing. The weight of those scrutinizing eyes presses down on you, and a surge of anxiety rises within. It's as if the once familiar campus has transformed into a stage where every step is observed and dissected by an unseen audience.
The secure haven you once had with Jeno is now tainted by the awareness of the scrutiny around you. The casual joy you shared now carries a hint of unease as you navigate through the campus, wondering about the malicious whispers and unfounded rumors that threaten to unravel the serenity of your relationship.
The once intimate haven of your relationship now feels exposed, the whole realm shifting under the weight of everyone's knowledge. It's as if an unwelcome spotlight has been cast upon you, and the familiar campus, once a place of shared joy, now echoes with the cruel whispers and judgmental glances that follow you everywhere.
The anxiety, a silent predator, wraps around your chest, constricting with every scrutinizing look. The rude eyes that pierce through your privacy seem to steal away fragments of your self-worth with each passing glance. You feel stripped bare, a vulnerability that leaves you yearning for the comfort of invisibility.
Jeno, seemingly impervious to the storm of judgment, becomes an inadvertent source of envy. These people, with their whispers and stares, never seem to penetrate his shield. He navigates through the campus with an ease that only amplifies the stark contrast to your inner turmoil.
One day, Jeno surprises you with flowers on campus, a tender gesture that should bring joy. But as he leans in for a kiss, you find yourself recoiling, aware of the peering eyes, the whispers, the judgment. His pout mirrors your disconnection as you take the flowers, your voice detached as you mutter a thank you.
He leans forward again, attempting to kiss you, but you dodge it. Surprise flickers in his eyes, replaced by a gentle pout. "Baby?" he questions, reaching out to touch you, but you evade his grasp.
"What's wrong?" he asks, concern lacing his voice.
"I don't want to kiss you because everyone keeps looking at you, at us," you confess, the weight of your unease finally surfacing.
"Y/N..." he begins, his voice a mixture of understanding and frustration, as he tries once more to bridge the gap between you. His eyes search yours with a mix of understanding and concern. “We can’t let people do this to us, this is us, me and you and the last thing I’ll let people do is dictate our relationship and make you uncomfortable.”
You try to focus on him, his smile, his soft words, his caring demeanour but all you can feel is the attention from outsiders. Your hands tremble imperceptibly, breathing becomes a conscious effort, each inhale and exhale a struggle against the weight of judgment hanging in the air. Your heart, a delicate percussion, echoes the rhythm of your anxiety, its beats amplified in the silent turmoil.
Tears, uninvited, well up in your eyes, and as you nod, they cascade down your cheeks, a tangible manifestation of the emotional toll. In that moment, vulnerability wraps around you like a heavy cloak. It feels as though you’ve done something wrong, an unspoken guilt that weakens your resolve.
The world outside blurs through the veil of tears, intensifying the sense of fragility that envelopes you. Jeno's tender touch wipes them away, his fingertips brushing softly against your skin. His eyes mirror an understanding so deep that it feels like a comforting embrace.
"Hey," he whispers, turning towards you with the softest voice, a gentleness that envelops you like a warm blanket. Leaning down, he cups your face, his touch gentle and reassuring. Everything else fades into a distant hum as you melt into him.
"Look at me," he urges, his eyes a haven of empathy. Your gaze meets his, and the vulnerability that you've felt transforms into a shared moment of intimacy. Jeno's presence becomes a blockage, shielding you from the judgmental world outside.
"Keep your eyes on me, not them," he murmurs, his words a balm to your wounded spirit. In that quiet exchange of glances, your heart slowly begins to relax. Jeno's comforting presence, combined with the unspoken promise in his eyes, creates a sanctuary where vulnerability is met with love, and every tear is met with the tenderness of understanding.
Feeling the reassurance of Jeno's presence, a warmth blooms in your chest. As he wipes away the last of your tears, you're overwhelmed by the tenderness in his eyes. Unable to resist the urge, you bridge the small gap between you, pressing a sweet, grateful kiss against his lips.
As the kiss lingers, Jeno pulls back, his eyes searching yours with concern. "Is anyone being mean to you?" His voice takes on a protective edge, a sincerity that resonates through the words. "If they are, I'll deal with them. I won't let anyone hurt you."
“I’ll tell you if anything happens.” You whisper. Jeno’s eyes search yours with a sincerity that demands your attention. “Promise me,” he implores, his voice a gentle plea.
"I promise." you affirm, instinctively outstretching your pinky, a whimsical gesture that seals promises between the two of you.
But Jeno, momentarily disregarding the lighthearted tradition, leans in and seals the promise with a sweet kiss. The warmth of his lips lingers, and a playful smile dances across his face. "You can't break it now." he teases, the gravity of the moment lightening.
You nod, the weight of the promise settling in your heart. "I won't." you assure him, a sense of determination in your eyes.
"I got you, Y/N."
✧ ✧ ✧
You don’t keep your end of the promise.
You and Jeno were on one of your many dates, except this one was the most luxurious of all. He had taken you to a a high-end dining establishment where opulence meets culinary excellence. As you step into this gastronomic haven, the ambiance drips with luxury. Chandeliers, resplendent in their crystal glory, cast a warm and flattering glow upon the tastefully adorned surroundings.
There was an atmosphere of sophistication. The air is laced with the subtle scent of exclusive fragrances, adding to the sensory experience. Every detail, from the meticulously arranged silverware to the plush velvet seating, screams extravagance.
The entire upper floor was just for you. Seclusion embraced the space as you and Jeno reveled in each other. Wrapped in a corset top that accentuated your every curve, you felt the warmth of Jeno's gaze fixated on the allure of your silhouette. A daring mini black skirt that barely covered your ass.
A long coat provided a modesty, concealing the sensual ensemble beneath. The promise of privacy on this exclusive floor lingered, and as the door closed behind you, the coat slipped away, unveiling an enticing look reserved solely for Jeno's eyes.
In the dimly lit, darkened expanse of the top floor, a sexy ambiance enveloped you both. The low music set the tone, creating an intimate atmosphere where only the sultry sounds of Jeno's low moans and your soft hums echoed, blending seamlessly with the alluring surroundings. Seated on plush furnishings, the connection ignited as you found solace on his lap. Jeno wasted no time, roughly removing your underwear and your corset, your boobs bouncing as you jumped up and down his cock.
Boyfriend air was real. You had radiated beauty before he picked you up – your makeup meticulously enhancing your features, and your hair styled with grace. Yet, now you sit here, a mess. His kisses had erased every last trace of makeup.
"Baby, stay here," he whispers, his warm breath lingering against your lips. "I'm just getting the bill." Leaning down, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead, sealing the promise of a swift return.
"Do you wanna come over to mine?" he suggests with a playful grin. You nod, your arms instinctively looping around his neck. "I'll drive us home," he declares, a warmth in his eyes. In that moment, it's clear – you just want to be with him, wherever the night may lead.
In the softly lit ambiance of the upscale restaurant, you patiently wait for him, preparing to put on your bra and top. Unexpectedly, an unwelcome intrusion disrupts the tranquility. Your mouth hangs open in shock, and before you can react, your chest is briefly exposed as a female waitress enters the room.
Quickly, you grab your coat to cover yourself, staring at her with a mix of surprise and discomfort. "What the hell?" escapes your lips, a blend of embarrassment and frustration.
You recall her as your waitress for the night, part of the restaurant's unique service where each floor and couple has a dedicated server. The bell, your discreet summoner, has been unrung, making her presence inappropriate.
She looks at you with a hint of disdain, and the encounter triggers a familiar sense of vulnerability. The ambiance of the restaurant feels stark, and the unexpected exposure intensifies your embarrassment. The thin fabric of the coat becomes a modest shield, but the discomfort lingers.
As you lock eyes with the waitress, who seems to take pleasure in your discomfort, memories of past judgmental stares resurface, adding to your unease. The sanctuary you usually find with Jeno is momentarily disrupted, replaced by an uncomfortable sense of exposure. The discomfort you've navigated with Jeno's support resurfaces, threatening to overwhelm you.
Recognizing her now, you realize she's a fellow student at your college. The slight awkwardness you noticed during her service takes on a new significance. You remember the way her eyes seemed to light up, especially when serving Jeno, which triggered a fleeting sense of jealousy. But it's a feeling you've grown used to – after all, Jeno is a heartthrob and everyone wants him.
While a twinge of jealousy briefly pricked at you, Jeno remained blissfully unaware of the waitress's admiration. It simply didn't register on his radar. He's become accustomed to such attention, unfazed by occasional glances and admirations. To him, these moments are like passing breezes – gentle and unnoticed.
Seated arrogantly on the table in front of you, she exuded an air of contempt, her eyes reflecting the rudeness that her entire demeanour conveyed. From the start of the night, her motives were glaringly apparent. You initially dismissed it as mere overthinking, the disinterest as she served you, the muttered words and the frigid expression with frozen eyes heightened your sense of unease. However her attention was completely different towards Jeno, it went from blatant flirtation to being overly helpful and kind.
"You know, seeing you with Jeno is disappointing. He deserves so much better. I don’t think you realize what a downgrade you are for him," she sneered, her words laden with contempt.
With a sinister grin, she continued, "Every other girl he’s been with beats you, by miles. In looks, in sex…"
As she casually mentioned sharing an intimate moment with Jeno, she revealed a video that sent tears streaming down your face. It’s taken from earlier, a moment you shared in solace but your feel vulnerable and exposed knowing she had been watching the whole time. The hurt intensified as she criticized your appearance and demeaned your connection with Jeno.
"Why the fuck have you filmed this?" you demanded, the raw emotion evident in your voice.
"Do you see how ugly you look? Watching this nearly made me sick. You’re not pleasing Jeno the way he deserves. You’re too soft and vanilla. Having slept with Jeno myself, he’s probably the best sex I’ve ever had. It's a shame he can't be rough with you because you're too much of a pussy," she taunted.
She questioned the authenticity of Jeno's feelings, suggesting he was using you as a distraction. Her venomous words stung as she predicted an inevitable heartbreak for you.
"I want him. And so does every other girl. It’s not fair that he’s with you. One day he’s gonna go back to his fuckboy ways. Just watch," she warned, her possessiveness on full display.
"Now you will stay away from him. I’m warning you now. Do not cross me. It will not be good if I see you together next week," she threatened, leaving a chilling anticipation hanging in the air.
As she cruelly exposed the intimate details of your relationship, tears streamed down your face, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. The room seemed to close in, an overwhelming wave of emotions crashing over you. Anxiety took hold, its silent fingers wrapping around your heart, squeezing with an invisible force.
Your breaths became shallow and rapid, as if the air itself was too heavy to inhale. A lump formed in your throat, choking back words that yearned to be spoken. The world around you blurred, a disorienting haze settling over your vision. Your hands trembled involuntarily, the once steady limbs now betraying your emotional turmoil.
In the depths of your anxiety, your mind became a battleground of negative thoughts. Each word uttered by her echoed, fueling self-doubt and insecurity. It felt as though the walls were closing in, the room shrinking to an oppressive confinement.
Moments later, Jeno returns, sensing the shift in your mood. The weight of sadness on your face doesn't escape his notice, concern knitting his features. He kneels in front of you, gently taking your hand in his.
"Baby?" he whispers, his eyes reflecting genuine worry. "Are you okay?"
You're taken aback by his perceptiveness, having mastered the art of hiding your true feelings. Despite your practiced smile, he sees through the facade.
"I'm fine, baby," you assure, the words a feeble attempt to shield him from your inner turmoil. A smile, though not reaching your eyes, plays on your lips. "Thank you for today." The gratitude is sincere, your heart warmed by his caring presence.
✧ ✧ ✧
As your fingers intertwine in the quiet of the car, he glances at you with a comforting smile. "Looks like there's a bit of traffic, we’ll be home in around a half hour." he mentions, the hum of the engine accompanying his words.
However, you're not fully tuned into the conversation. Instead, your attention is drawn to the night sky, captivated by the celestial wonders above. Animatedly, you share stories of constellations and the cosmic ballet, your voice weaving tales of the stars as the car meanders through the urban night.
A warm smile graces his lips, capturing the sparkle in your eyes. Spontaneously, he parks the car near a vacant mountaintop, city lights far below. The celestial canvas unfolds as you continue your stargazing dialogue.
Nestled in the open boot of Jeno's car, you find comfort against his body, head resting on his chest. Gazing at the stars, he whispers sweet reassurances in your ear, the night sky a celestial canvas where your anxiety gently fades, even if just momentarily.
Jeno kisses your forehead with a whispered question. You’re now standing side by side as you’re looking up at the stars and he’s looking at you. “Are you feeling better?”
As a contented sigh escapes your lips, you revel in the solace of being with him, the night sky weaving a temporary spell on your anxiety but you know this won’t last, you know the second you close your eyes tonight the real battle will start.
Choosing to shield him from worry, you offer a gentle smile and a subtle nod when he asks. "Yeah, I'm feeling better now.” you assure him, your words carrying a touch of gratitude. Your heart swells with appreciation for the unexpected haven he created atop the mountain.
Leaning into the warmth of his chest, you express your thanks for the day, the words a tender acknowledgment of his efforts. Deep down, you cherish the genuine concern in his eyes, but for now, the desire to spare him unnecessary worry guides your actions.
“I don’t buy it.” he looks at you sternly, lips dodging yours, a serious expression in his face.
"Jeno, please," you implore, the words hanging in the air. However, as he meets your gaze, captivated by the sheer beauty reflected in your eyes, he momentarily forgets what he was about to say. The softness in your expression, the way you look at him, sweeps away his train of thought. There's a pause, a moment where words fade into the background, as he's lost in the warmth of your gaze and the radiance that surrounds you. Eventually, a gentle smile curves on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the distraction your beauty has become.
His words caress the air, "Pretty girl." His voice is a low whisper, his fingers tenderly tracing the contours of your lips with the most captivating of smiles. It sends a poignant ache through your heart, the way he looks at you making you feel intense guilt. You fight back the tears that threaten to surface.
He’s still looking at you with concern, eyes searching yours for an answer. You don’t know how else to react. Desiring distraction, you impulsively lean in, seeking solace in the press of your lips against his, momentarily abandoning the conversation you had intended. Your fingers instinctively coil around the fabric of his shirt, his arms winding around your waist, drawing you into an intimate embrace. The dance of his mouth against yours unfolds, a gentle nip on your lower lip elicits a hushed gasp. Seizing the moment, he delves deeper, intertwining his tongue with yours in a tender kiss.
A smile graces his lips in the midst of your shared closeness and it seems like the imposing conversation has flown from his mind too. Your fingers weave through the strands of his hair, cherishing the softness as the warmth of his body provides a transient sanctuary from lingering concerns.
Jeno gracefully lowers himself, knees bending as his hands anchor at the back of your thighs. A swift jump and your legs encircle his waist, his firm grip ensuring your support. Lips reconnect, and he navigates effortlessly to his car. He’s glad that you guys have no company.
Amidst the soft glow of candlelight, an unexpected intimacy unfolds. You discover a new vantage point, perched on a shared blanket under the moonlit sky. You’re met with the familiarity of his car, the boot. You’re surprised when the position remains, you on top. You move even closer in his hold, a comfortable perch on his lap as your knees close in on either side of his hips. “Take this shit off.” He moans against your lips, smiling against your lips as you get in an awkward position so he can remove your skirt swiftly. Simultaneously, you unzip his trousers, freeing his cock from his pants, while he removes your lace panties.
His hands trace the curves of your thighs, fingers gripping the exposed skin, dangerously dancing near the skin of your pussy while your mouth melds with his.
“Already wet for me? Good girl.” He coos in your ear, one finger dipping in and out your pussy, covered in slick.
“Need you.” You cry out, he coos at how patience you’ve been for him as he grips your thighs, eyes looking softly into yours as he lowers you down onto his cock, the two of you moaning at the sensation of you adjusting immediately, he fits snugly into you, your walls instinctively accustomed to the feeling.
In the midst of tears, you whisper, "Jeno, you make me feel so much." Your emotions overwhelm you as you begin kissing every inch of his face, attempting to convey the depth of your sentiments.
You start with his forehead, the site of countless moments etched with shared laughter and joy. A gentle kiss lands there, a silent acknowledgment of the happiness he's brought into your life. Moving to his eyebrows, you trace the familiar arcs that crinkle with every teasing smile. Your lips linger, savoring the warmth of memories held in those expressive lines.
Kissing the bridge of his nose, you recall the adorable way it scrunches when he's deep in thought or playfully annoyed. Each touch becomes a silent tribute to the idiosyncrasies that make Jeno uniquely himself. Continuing to his closed eyelids, you remember the countless times you’ve dreamed of him and the security you find in the serenity of those closed eyes.
As you plant a tender kiss on his cheeks, the echoes of laughter and stolen moments resonate in your mind. You're acutely aware of the bittersweet weight behind the gesture, acknowledging the beauty of what was and the pain of what might never be again.
Finally, your lips find their way to his trembling mouth, sealing an unspoken promise of love and gratitude. In this melancholic dance of affection, you navigate the terrain of his features, each kiss a melancholy ode to the intricate mosaic of your shared experiences.
Jeno looks at you with a mixture of tenderness and concern, his eyes mirroring the emotions reflected in your tear-stained gaze. As your whispered confession hangs in the air, his fingers gently lift to graze your cheek softly.
The room feels heavy with unspoken sentiments, and Jeno's expression softens even more as he breaks away from your lips. His hand cradles your face, thumb gently brushing away the lingering traces of sadness. There's a depth of emotion in his eyes as he looks into yours.
He doesn't utter a word, but his actions speak volumes. Leaning in, Jeno captures your lips in a soft, reassuring kiss. It's a gentle promise, a silent affirmation that he's there with you, navigating the intensity of emotions together. His arms wrap around you, creating a cocoon of warmth and solace.
Jeno's touch is a blend of warmth and desire as he navigates your trembling body, his hands exploring the curves that respond to his every movement. Your sighs intertwine with his name, creating a symphony of longing and pleasure, while your shaky hands find solace on his sculpted shoulders. Biting your lip, you surrender to the heightened sensations as his grip on your thigh tightens, helping as you rise and fall on his cock.
His breath, laden with desire, mingles with yours, the air heavy with the intensity of your connection, your ass meeting your thighs. "Good girl," he murmurs, smiling behind the pleasure as you rise and fall on his cock with a determination in his eye. His praise ignites a new wave of sensations. Your eyes, lost in ecstasy, roll back, and the room echoes with the symphony of whimpers and cries that escape your lips when he consistently hits the sweet spot
“I need your cum in me.” you whine, the words catching in your throat as your body responds to the intensifying pleasure, a gentle band tightening around the depths of your core.
“I’m gonna fill you up with me, baby.” he moans, his voice a low, longing murmur. Jeno lowers his thumb to your clit, gliding down to trace delicate circles. The sudden touch makes you shiver, tension building within you as the sensations cascade through your body.
In the throes of ecstasy, you arch against him, a cascade of whimpers and moans escaping your lips. Jeno is attentive to your every reaction, synchronized in the dance of shared desire. Your cries become a symphony that resonates with him, each pulse of pleasure bringing you closer to a shared climax.
“My love.” you cry out, the endearment slipping out involuntarily, and it resonates deeply with Jeno. The intimate connection amplifies, pushing him over the edge. He responds with a fervent moan, releasing his pent-up passion inside you, a high-pitched resonance you’ve never heard before.
As the climax ebbs, you collapse onto him, exhaustion mingling with the lingering pleasure. Tears stream down your face, a release of emotions intertwined with the raw intensity of the moment. Your hands clench onto his back, holding on as if he could slip away.
In the aftermath, Jeno cradles you with a tender smile, maintaining the intimate connection. His gaze holds a vulnerability that transcends physicality, mirroring the delicate strokes of a poet. His fingers brush away your tears, tracing the paths of emotions etched on your flushed face.
With unspoken understanding, the room is filled with shared sorrow. Jeno’s tears join yours, creating a poignant language that weaves your stories together. In this silent dialogue of vulnerability, your connection strengthens.
In the tender aftermath, Jeno's eyes reveal a different vulnerability. With a gentleness that mirrors the delicate touch of a poet, he brushes away the tears that linger on your flushed cheeks. His fingers trace the paths of emotions etched on your face. As his thumb captures a glistening tear, you feel your sorrow enveloping the room.
Gazing into each other's eyes, you find solace in the authenticity of the moment. Jeno's gaze mirrors and you stay in silence, he’s still inside of you.
Breaking the silence, Jeno's voice, soft yet filled with genuine concern, pierces through the intimate atmosphere. His eyes still search yours as he whispers, "Tell me what you feel." The unspoken question lingers, he’s referencing earlier, inviting you to unravel the layers of emotions that intertwine your souls, creating a canvas painted with shared vulnerability and desire.
Jeno's touch is tender as he brushes away your tears, his fingers delicately tracing the paths of emotions etched on your face. The subtle quiver in his breath reveals the depth of his empathy, and you notice a glistening tear escaping from the corner of his eye, mirroring the vulnerability that binds you both.
His thumb moves gently across your cheek, capturing the teardrop, while his own tears fall freely. There's a shared sorrow in this moment, an unspoken understanding that transcends words. Jeno's emotions, laid bare, create a poignant connection between you, deepening the bonds that bind your hearts.
The weight of unspoken pain becomes palpable, threatening to engulf you in a sea of vulnerability. In response, you shake your head, a feeble attempt to ward off the imminent exposure of your innermost self. The fear of appearing fragile and broken takes hold—it's a dangerous territory you've meticulously avoided, a realm where the façade you've worn like armor is at risk of crumbling.
As he wipes away your tears, his gaze meets yours, expressing a silent solidarity. In that intimate exchange, you find solace in the raw authenticity of shared emotions. Jeno's teary eyes reflect not only your pain but also the profound connection that weaves your stories together. It's a moment suspended in time, where tears become the language of emotions too profound for words.
"I know what you feel; I feel it too," he whispers, his voice a soothing balm to the ache in your heart. The connection deepens as you both acknowledge the profound emotions that bind you, creating a shared sanctuary where vulnerability is met with empathy. It's a testament to the strength of your relationship, forged in the crucible of genuine emotions that only serve to strengthen the bond you share.
A quiet gasp escapes as emotions swirl within, you take a deep breath, the weight of your emotions nearly overwhelming. In the quiet intimacy of the moment, you muster the courage to speak the words that have been echoing in your heart.
"I... I'm scared, Jeno," you stammer, anxiety coursing through your veins like an electric current. Your heart races, and a subtle tremor invades your voice as you grapple with the overwhelming fear of confessing your emotions. The vulnerability in your words echoes the symptoms of anxiety—palpitations, a tightening chest, the fear of judgment that clings to every syllable.
Despite the paralyzing fear, you know you must tell him. You summon the courage to speak. "I love you so much that it hurts, Jeno," you admit, the words escaping in a breathless whisper. The admission carries the weight of both joy and fear, but amidst the internal turmoil, you yearn for a connection that transcends words, searching desperately for affirmation in his eyes. His boyish smile transforms into a warm and tender expression, tears streaming down. He's still inside of you, his presence lingering, and as he releases again, his hands gently cup your face, providing a moment of solace in the midst of the emotional storm.
"I love you too," Jeno whispers, his voice carrying a depth of emotion that mirrors your own. You hold each other tightly, your bare bodies pressed together, a mosaic of emotions etched across the canvas of your entwined forms. His toned chest provides a firm foundation, your breasts gently molded against the warmth of his skin. The lingering connection down there serves as a silent testament to the profound intimacy you've embraced.
Heavy breathing and panting compose a symphony, resonating with the echoes of shared desires. His arms, strong and secure, wrap around your back, creating a cocoon of intimacy. Fingers trace soothing patterns along the contours of your spine, and as you hold onto his shoulders, your tears find refuge in the curve of his neck.
In the midst of this physical closeness, you look into each other's eyes. His smile, though filled with tears, radiates warmth and acceptance, a poignant expression of love. Yet, in your gaze, there is no hint of happiness—only a profound sadness reflected in your tear-streaked face as you sob, the weight of vulnerability heavy on your shoulders.
The head fogs with unspoken words, each heartbeat echoing the ache of a love destined to unravel. Tears cascade down your cheeks, silent witnesses to the profound pain etched in your soul. Amidst the shared tears, he cries too, not realizing the true depth of your sorrow. He’s weeping because he senses your love, yet the cruel irony is that you, burdened by the impending departure, are the one who must leave.
As your tears mingle in the dance of heartbreak, the weight of impending separation hangs heavy. He can’t hear the words echoing in your head, nor understand the agony etched onto your face. This poignant moment, laden with unspoken goodbyes, is a symphony of sorrow.
✧ ✧ ✧
It starts off with feeble excuses, claiming sickness or the need to study. Each call and text from him goes unanswered, as you detach yourself without warning or explanation. On campus, you avoid his gaze, finding excuses to leave, trapping yourself in a web of avoidance.
Friends, unaware of the storm within, continue their routines, oblivious to your isolation. You become a ghost, fading from gatherings, leaving them in the dark about the torment devouring your soul.
His house, once a refuge, stands untouched by your presence. Dates become relics of the past, and everything shared dissolves into a haunting silence. You ghost him, ignore him, disappearing without a trace. The places where you once showed up now remain empty, a stark reminder of the void you've become.
In this self-imposed exile, you grapple with the agony of your emotions, feeling the weight of isolation press down on you. The world around you moves forward, while you remain suspended in emotional paralysis, unable to break free from the chains that bind you.
The sun-drenched campus feels both familiar and distant as you navigate its pathways, ensnared in your isolation. Suddenly, Sunwoo appears, concern etched across his face. Startled, you jump at his presence, forgetting how to act around people. Anxiety, that insidious disease, tightens its grip.
"Y/N," Sunwoo calls out, his voice breaking through the suffocating silence.
"Sunwoo," you cry out, seeking instant comfort from him. You allow yourself to melt into his warm embrace, tears escaping as thoughts of Jeno intensify the ache in your chest. You miss him—miss his touch, miss the simplicity of your connection.
"Tell me everything," Sunwoo urges, his voice a gentle plea.
And you do. You spill the fragments of your shattered heart, revealing how you and Jeno were once strong until the world intruded, shattering the delicate bubble of your love. The honeymoon phase faded, replaced by imperfections and external pressures. You couldn't bear the stares, the rudeness, the guilt for simply being in love. It felt like you were an enemy, an intruder in a world that refused to accept your connection.
You recount Seoyeon's cruel warning, the video, her words a venomous echo in your mind. The weight of her threat compounds your already fragile emotional state. Sunwoo listens, his comforting presence a temporary respite from the storm within. Before he hugs you, you just stare at him and sob. His gaze doesn't hold judgment, and the rarity of that these days breaks you. It's a poignant moment where you realize he doesn't see you as someone who's done something wrong.
As you cry in his arms, the release of emotions is accompanied by a profound sense of trust. You never did anything wrong, and Sunwoo, understanding that, becomes a pillar of support. The rarity of finding someone who doesn't look at you with condemnation in these trying times makes you melt into him. You know you can trust him—always have and always will.
Sunwoo rocks you back and forth in his arms, offering a comforting refuge from the storm within. As tears stream down your face, he speaks softly, his words carrying a pain that resonates deeply.
"You love him?" he questions, the ache in his voice weaving a tale of pain that doesn't entirely make sense to you.
You nod, biting your tongue to stifle the sobs threatening to escape. "I'm scared," you admit, the vulnerability laid bare.
He shakes his head gently, a determined glint in his eyes. "You love him. Fuck everyone else." The weight of his words settles in, a declaration that in this tumultuous journey, your love is what matters. In his embrace, the fear eases, replaced by a flicker of courage to face the uncertain path ahead.
✧ ✧ ✧
As you sit peacefully on the campus, absorbed in your thoughts, Chaeyoung, Nagyung, and Seoyeon approach with an air of hostility. Their presence feels like a dark cloud disrupting the tranquility around you. Nagyung shoots you a venomous glare, and the atmosphere becomes tense. Suddenly, you're transported back to a painful memory – your date with Jeno, tainted by Nagyung's threats and bullying.
Nagyung's voice pierces through the present moment, her words echoing the past torment. "Jeno is still posting photos of you two on his Instagram. Did you not take my warning seriously?" The mention of Jeno's name sends shivers down your spine, reopening old wounds. Despite the tears welling in your eyes, you choose to ignore them, desperate to shield yourself from the emotional assault. The intrusive trio persists, invading your personal space and freedom of mind.
As you endure their taunts, tears well in your eyes, a silent defense against the emotional onslaught. Avoiding their gaze, you refuse to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.
Despite your efforts to stay composed, Nagyung persists with another warning, this time invoking a sense of dread. She mentions the video with a snarl on her face. The mere thought intensifies your desperation to escape this distressing encounter, as their toxic words become increasingly unbearable. The urgency to distance yourself grows, making finding an exit your sole focus.
Their taunting has drawn a growing crowd, creating an overwhelming sensory experience. The stares and harsh words blend into a chaotic scene. Desperate to escape, you find your voice locked within, and your body feels paralyzed, as if controlled by an unseen force. In this moment, anger surges. You want to fight back, to regain control over your voice and movements, but an invisible restraint keeps you confined,
Sunwoo arrives, exuding a striking handsomeness that momentarily captures attention. His face bears a concerned expression as he looks at you, offering reassurance with a simple, "It's okay, I'm here." While he defends you against the trio, the ringing in your head and heightened anxiety make it difficult to decipher his words.
Certain phrases cut through the mental fog: "What's wrong with you?" and "You're all pathetic." He delivers a menacing warning, promising consequences, each word dripping with venom that silences the three girls who look stunned. Sunwoo, typically composed, adopts an unfamiliar rudeness, threatening the trio with a stern expression you've never witnessed before. The stark contrast leaves you both surprised and comforted, a mixture of emotions swirling as Sunwoo wipes away your tears.
Sunwoo's defense sparks a glimmer of hope within you, and your eyes light up with gratitude. As he smiles in reassurance, you make an effort to reciprocate, forcing a smile back, though feelings of unworthiness linger beneath the surface.
Witnessing him defend you creates a moment of vulnerability, you find yourself getting lost in his presence. Sunwoo gently wipes away your tears. Soft whispers escape his lips, words so sweet they make you giggle. Were you getting lost in his eyes?
His question breaks your trance "Where's your boyfriend?"
"I don't know, Sunwoo," you reply, your mind swirling with the reminder that you've ignored all of his texts.
"He should be here," Sunwoo asserts, concern etched on his face.
"It's not his fault," you instinctively defend him, your words flying past Sunwoo as he changes the subject.
"Do you want to come with me?" His hand gently rests on your back, a comforting touch that lights up a spark within you.
"Where?" you inquire, curiosity blending with uncertainty.
"Somewhere away from here," Sunwoo suggests, the idea hanging in the air.
"I don't—" you begin, caught in contemplation. The uncertainty about the proposal lingers, leaving you unsure if it's a good idea.
Finally, Jeno enters the scene, and an immediate tension envelopes the surroundings. Immature behaviour unfolds between him and Sunwoo, their gazes locking with an intensity laced with rudeness. The air thickens with arguments, and the perpetual tension that seems to shadow you becomes overwhelmingly stifling.
As you prepare to confront both of them, Jeno beats you to it. His eyes communicate a stern warning to Sunwoo, their locked gaze speaking volumes. In Jeno's intense stare, you sense an undercurrent of jealousy. He doesn't need words; the warning is implicit, especially as his eyes fixate on where Sunwoo's hand lingers on your back.
Sunwoo doesn't back away, he’s aching every second that you’re in this broken state. His frustration boils over. "Where the hell have you been?" His raised voice is directed at Jeno, who responds defiantly, "Shut up, Sunwoo, I swear to—"
"You're twiddling your thumbs while Seoyeon —" Sunwoo's words are cut off as he glances at you, his eyes softening instantly as he reads the silent plea in yours. Shaking your head, you silently beg him not to reveal the truth to Jeno.
"Sunwoo, stop it. Don't talk to Jeno like that," you interject, trying to diffuse the escalating tension. Sunwoo sighs, a heavy sadness lingering in his heart, all he wants to do is protect you but he also wants to respect your wishes.
Finally turning to Jeno, you realise you can't avoid him forever. You're a bit of a mess, dishevelled hair and tear-streaked cheeks. Jeno notices immediately and his eyes soften, his heart strings tugging and without a word, he pulls you into a comforting hug. You melt into his chest, shaking hands gripping onto his biceps. You hum in familiarity as he wraps his arms around you tighter. “I’m right here, baby.”
His fingers gently smooth out your hair, and he delicately kisses your face, his fingers following to wipe away your tears. You look up at him as if he holds your world. He has an undeniable hold on your heart. "Come with me," he suggests, and though you're initially reluctant, he pleads, "Please, Y/N."
"Don't you trust me?" Jeno asks, his eyes holding a sincerity that softens your defences. "I do," you respond, shedding silent tears as you hold his hand, letting him lead you away from the prying eyes.
Before parting, he kisses you softly, and in that vulnerable moment, everyone's eyes seem to be on you.
You catch sight of Seoyeon and Sunwoo, your breathing calming as you catch him defending your name. You watch as he snatches her phone from her with a relentless and anger that’s unpalatable, he must look crazy to others but you know what he’s doing. You feel a warmth in your senses, the cloud in your mind finally starting to dissolve when you see him navigate her phone. He’s deleted the video.
Jeno wraps his arm around you, a protective shield from the cruel stares and whispers. As he kisses your cheek softly, you find solace in the intimacy of the moment.
✧ ✧ ✧
In the familiar setting of Jeno's room, clad in his clothes post a shared shower, emotions swirl between you two. The act of cleaning each other felt tender, the guilt growing as his lips pressed against every inch of your body, each kiss carrying an unspoken declaration of the depth of his love for you. Jeno leans down, the rawness in his voice echoes, "I've missed you so much." The question hangs, "Have you missed me?"
Instead of verbalising, you lean forward, putting your mind off the pain by doing what you know best. Your lips press against his, a rough and passionate collision. There's an urgency as your lips connect, a mingling of longing and desire. The kiss deepens, and you bite down roughly on his bottom lip. As the kiss progresses, heavy breaths mix. The roughness of the kiss mirrors the intensity of your feelings, making every moment linger in the air.
Pulling away, Jeno gazes into your eyes, understanding etched in his expression. "You can always talk to me. I'm always waiting for you," he reassures.
Jeno silently leads you somewhere, and as you realize it's the room where the project is, you express, "Jen, I don't feel like working on the project now."
He gently hushes you and urges, "Just follow me."
In a secluded corner of the project space, Jeno guides you into an unexpected, confined pod. The air is charged with tension as he gently guides you to sit down, taking your hand in his. As he kneels before you, you glance around in confusion—this isn't the collaborative space you had developed; it's *your* pod.
"Jeno, what's going on? This is supposed to be our demonstration pod for the presentation." you exclaim, your worry evident.
Jeno, undeterred, whispers, "I don't care about the presentation right now." Holding your hand tighter, he reveals a pod personalised just for you—your favourite scent of vanilla, your favourite song filling the air with soothing melody, and a colour palette of soft lavender, muted gold, and touches of black. Images of blooming cherry blossoms and gentle ripples on a serene pond adorn the walls, creating a tranquil and visually pleasing environment.
Overwhelmed, you can't fathom how Jeno knows all these intimate details you've never shared. Tears well up in your eyes, and you ask, "How did you...?"
"I know you better than you think." Jeno says softly, wiping away your tears. "Let's do some mindfulness exercises together. It might help."
As Jeno leads you through deep breaths and visualisation, your internal struggle intensifies. The stress of using this personal creation for an impromptu session gnaws at you, overshadowing the intended therapeutic effect.
"We're going to get in trouble, Jeno." you stammer between breaths, your anxiety rising.
"I don't care about that right now. I care about you." Jeno replies, his voice steady but filled with concern.
However, you are too far gone. Jeno's efforts, genuine as they are, can't penetrate the walls of your distress. Realisation dawns on Jeno's face—he can't help someone who isn't ready to be helped. Holding your face in his hands, a tear escapes his eye.
"I love you. I want to help you." Jeno pleads. "My heart is breaking seeing you like this. Why won't you let me in?"
Sobbing, you abruptly stand up and leave the pod, leaving Jeno behind with a shattered expression. "I told you I loved you." he whispers, watching you disappear, unable to comprehend why you chose to leave despite his sincere efforts to connect. As you go, he notices the absence of those three words from you, and tears fill his eyes too, realizing the depth of your pain and the strain on your connection.
✧ ✧ ✧
The pulsating beats of the music echoed through the crowded room, a symphony of laughter and clinking glasses resonating in the air. Neon lights cast vibrant hues on the partygoers, transforming the space into a kaleidoscope of fleeting moments. Yet, in the midst of the lively chaos, your focus was on one person – Jeno.
The room felt suffocating as you navigated through the sea of bodies, your heart pounding in rhythm with the bass. This wasn't where you wanted to be; Jeno's infamous parties were the last place you'd willingly venture. Once, he had tamed his party spirit for you, a sacrifice to build a life together. Now, with the remnants of that love scattered like confetti, Jeno had reverted to his former self, perhaps even more recklessly.
He stood there, a red cup in hand, surrounded by the aura of popularity you once found intimidating. Memories of a time when he threw fewer parties for the sake of your connection flooded your mind. But now, any second threatened to pull him into the abyss of his "fuck boy" phase.
Summoning courage, you took a deep breath and approached him. His name left your lips, but he brushed you aside as though you were an apparition, the weight of his indifference making you feel transparent, like a forgotten ghost.
Attempting conversation only led to walls; he was rough, rude, a cruel reminder of a love now lost. The desperation to salvage what was left of a shared project pushed you to raise your voice, cutting through the noise of the party.
"JENO!"
His eyes met yours, a deadpan stare that could still weaken your resolve. The words you uttered about the pending project fell like heavy raindrops, but his response wasn't venomous – it was filled with an unexpected hurt.
"I'd rather fail," he said, and with that, he walked away, leaving you standing alone amidst the vibrant chaos, a solitary figure in a world that had once revolved aroundthe two of you.
As you gather your resolve to leave, the weight of impending all-nighters and deadlines bearing down on you, Donghyuck intercepts your escape with a mischievous smirk.
"Come with me," he insists, the insistence in his voice leaving no room for argument. "We're playing a game, and you have to be here. I won't let you go home yet."
Reluctantly, you follow Donghyuck into an empty room where a small group has gathered around a solitary bottle of alcohol placed in the center of the floor. Jeno sits on the opposite side, his gaze fixed on you. It takes a moment for you to realize why – you're wearing the dress he once gifted you, a stunning piece that captivates attention.
The atmosphere shifts as the game of spin the bottle begins. You shoot a glare at Donghyuck; this chaotic scene isn't your element. The room becomes a haze of alcohol, drugs, and unrestrained behavior. You feel like an outsider, an observer in a world that's foreign to you.
As the bottle takes its turns, the dares escalate, each one pushing the boundaries further. Yeji and Hyunjin had to dry hump, Chaewon and Ryujin shared an intense make out session and Karina faces a challenge that adds a layer of discomfort to the room.
Your mind begins to wander, almost fortunate to have escaped the bottle's whims, until it unexpectedly lands on Jeno. He maintains the same nonchalant expression, like a detached robot, throughout the game. Witnessing him in this state burdens your heart.
Then, your name is called, and the shock reverberates through you. Eyes widen, pulse quickens – you're suddenly the focal point of the game, and a daunting dare awaits.
“I repeat once more, Lee Jeno, would you rather kiss Y/N with the happy pill or do the same with Winter?” You gulp when you see that the bottle has landed on Jeno, Donghyuck’s words kept ringing in your head, you give him a deadpan expression and all he does is smile and blow you a kiss. He’s a menace. He planned this. You shake your head in annoyance as you see him rubbing his hand at the scene he’s created, the awkward silence, the tension, the stormy expression in Jeno’s eyes.
You gulp when you realise what’s truly going on. It’s a drug. You weren’t surprised, was it Jeno’s party if drugs weren't played with recklessly? You know Jeno loves them, he’s into that stuff, he’s crazy about it so why does he look so angry? You know him, you know his eyes should be growing with light and he’d be desperate to feel the release but he’s mad. He's abrupt and harsh. “Why are you involving drugs?”
There was a silence, Donghyuck just laughs
“I don’t want to do either.”
Jeno and Hyuck converse but it becomes a distant noise to you as you’re distracted. Your blood is boiling, you’re looking at Winter, her sweet smile and shadowed eyes giving you a racing heart. You know she doesn’t mean any harm by her actions, she isn’t a bad person but at the same time, her actions have had a negative affect on you.
Winter applies lip balm, puckering with certainty that Jeno will choose her over you. The anger you feel isn’t solely directed at her, but at the haunting memories of girls who made you feel weak and vulnerable, doubting the significance of your connection with Jeno. The realization hits – you stopped seeing Jeno to avoid this attention, to do what you thought was best.
No more. You’re taking a stand. You’re not focused on anything else, there’s so much booze and people, so much alcohol, so much music but your eyes are only on one person. the man you love so much. He’s arguing with Donghyuck so he doesn’t notice you move from your place, snatch the baggie from Donghyuck’s hand and give Winter a unapologetic glare, silently warning her not to move from her seat, it might’ve been childish but to your suprise she looks startled and sits back down.
You walk over to him and he immediately goes silent, eyes on you and instantly the light is restored. You’re shy and nervous but it doesn’t matter. he’s only one one that matters. making it up to him and showing him that you’re truly sorry and do want him matters the most.
He eyes the bag in your hand and looks stunned, eyes instantly going soft as he lowers you down onto his lap, hands moving all over. They grip the flesh on your thighs, biting his lip as he admires how sexy you look in the dress. His hands are gripping your waist securely, moving his face close to yours, showing the most concern and love in your eyes, that’s when you realise that the feelings never went, he’s never stopped adoring you.
“Baby.” he calls out your name softly, eyes looking over you in concern, you relish in his protective and caring touch that caresses your skin, you missed him so much
“Jeno.” you call out to him, holding onto his face so delicately, the two of you softly looking into each others eyes with giddy smiles, he nudges his nose against yours, calling you his pretty girl. Your spirits were too infectious to break. You truly ignored everyone else around you, especially Donghyuck, his background remarks kept ringing around, he was claiming that you were breaking every single rule in the game but you didn’t care
“Are you sure?” He questions with so much care as you bring the pill out of the bag, ready to put it on your tongue. he has strict eyes, you can see his protective side already. He wants your consent and he wants you to be 100% sure.
You know how much he loves stuff like this, you’ve always wished you was more outgoing for him. You don’t answer verbally.
You pull out pill from the bag, eyeing it like it was foreign, it was to you. You’ve seen Jeno do this so many times, you can do it. You handle it with care, making sure you don’t drop it as you place it on your tongue, eyes not leaving his as you do so, you see his breathing becoming heavy, a smirk that you love so much playing on his face. He’s in his heaven. He’s wanted this for so long. His two favourite things in the world. That combined with the fact he hasn’t touched you in so long, he’s already cumming in his pants.
You moan before you close your lips in on him, lips moving in a passionate yet slow manner, you haven’t done this in so long yet you instantly feel like home. You melt into his touch, fingers gripping onto him tightly as if he could slip away but you know he won’t ever again, it’s real, he’s yours.
He laughs against your lips when he realised you’ve become too indulged in the moment to forget that there was a pill resting on your tongue. He prods his own tongue against yours, the pill falling into his mouth effortlessly. Your tongues engage in a dance, conveying a depth of emotion that transcends words.
The warmth of your shared desire pulses through every lingering moment, igniting a fervent connection that speaks of longing, intensity, and the unspoken promises of passion.
The moment is heightened by a hundred, the kiss moves at a more rapid and intense rate, his hot breath moving against yours, you get lost in each other's embrace. Your kiss is making up for stolen time but you relish into him with a giddy smile when you realise that he’s yours and has always been. You won’t waste any time anymore,
You press against each together fervently, seeking solace and connection in the desperation of the moment. It's a collision of raw emotion, where the taste of longing lingers, and each kiss becomes a desperate plea for reassurance and a temporary escape from the overwhelming tide of uncertainty.
It’s frustrating that you had to do this with your clothes on, it’s clear that you both wanted to strip each other by the way your skirt had trailed so high up your thighs and how you’ve managed to unbutton half of his shirt. You’re gripping onto him for dear life as he starts thrusting against you, his hand pressed against your clothed clit, making rough motions as you grow more wet and frustrated as your lace thong sticks to you, you so desperately want him to strip you naked. His hardness prods against your pelvis, his tip meeting your folds every time he meets your hips.
You begin moaning his name against his lips, heavy pants and breaths against each other's mouth. In all honesty, you’ve both forgotten that there’s a crowd around you, your eyelids doubling explains why you’ve travelled to your own world with him. You’re so enchanted, desperate and horny for each other you genuinely forget you’re in the same room as people, so does he, his fingers are about to slide underneath your skirt and underwear to take it off in one rough motion, other hand reaching for a condom but you shake your head, telling him to cum in you because you’re still on the pill.
It’s so steamy. The 7 seconds has clearly exceeded a long time ago.
“Get a room! Can you guys take it somewhere else?” You’re finally brought back to reality, partially. You can only hear Donghyuck because he’s shouting close to your ear, tapping the both of you. You feel dizzy, you feel like you’re floating, you feel so good.
You ignore everyone, it’s just you and him. You continue to disregard everyone else as you finally hear all the background noise, the shouts and cheers, the whistling, the peering eyes. You don’t notice guys getting their phones out to film and take photos of you, you don’t notice Sunwoo knocking each phone from each shameless guys hands, deleting every photo and video and warning them with threats.
You’re out of your mind but you can recollect Jeno finally lifting the two of you up, he carries you to someplace more private, your legs around his waist as you continue to dry hump. You’re a mess, you keep moaning his name against his lips. “I know, I know, my love.” He whispers against your lips.
You feel a delicious thrill through your pussy, your heart beating erratically. The words ‘I love you’ are nearly slipping off your tongue.
“You’re my good girl, be patient and I’m gonna give you everything you want.” He promises, lust in his eyes. He magically manouvers through the crowds, dodging every single drunk, dancing person or couple all while making out with you passionately, his attention was 100% solely on you.
You let out a noise of excitement when you’re pressed against a wall roughly, Jeno follows shortly, his back pressing into yours. You travelled blind, you didn’t see a thing, you just maintained full trust in him. You can feel the change in atmosphere, it’s much quieter here, it’s just you and him.
He starts pressing kisses against the curve of your neck, languid and sensual, a heated whisper of desire lingered in the air. He caressed you with purpose, leaving his trail of heightened sensations behind with love marks and bites. You missed the feeling of him leaving hickeys so much. In that heated moment, your connection intensified, a symphony of shared longing and a promise of deeper, more intimate embraces to come.
He whispers against your skin, his touch although rough, lingered so softly on your skin. “I’ve missed you so much, baby.” He leans close to you, turning your tace to the side, his touch so caressing. “I’ve missed you so fucking much.” He says between kisses.
“Why did you ghost me like that? Hm?” He asks, fingertips gripping into your hips as he demands an explanation.
“I – I thought I was doing what was best.” You give a simple explanation, you was contemplating to fully explain what had happened, the conversation you had with Nagyung, the entire ordeal but now you’re standing here with the man you want to be with forever, so you realise that it doesn’t matter anymore. Maybe one day you’ll tell him everything but you don’t see yourself doing that anytime soon. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Jeno. What matters is that I’m here with you and I’ll never do that to you again.”
“I’m so sorry, I truly am. It wasn’t right for me to ghost you like that with no explanation, I’m so sorry if I made you feel like you did something wrong. The truth is you didn’t, you were so good to me. You made me feel a way that no one has ever before, I never imagined that someone would make me feel so cherished and appreciated, you came from nowhere and rocked my whole world.”
He smiles against your lips, it’s clear your apology is sincere and it touches his heart. “It’s okay, I forgive you and now I want to punish you.” His voice goes darker and you know it’s the sex in him talking, it turns you on so much.
“Then ruin me.”
“But I wanna make so much love to you.” He groans, an internal conflict playing in his heart. “You’ve gone so long without my touch, are you sure you want me to go hard on you?”
You manage to lock the door behind you, filled
with determination. That tells him enough. He’s confused when you get down from his hold, nearly stumbling once you’re on the ground as dizziness overcomes you but you force yourself to have a strong stance. You try to appear more confident than you are, your eyes heavy with the desire to make him feel good.
Your eyes don’t leave his when you get down on your knees in front of him, looking up at him with doe yet seductive eyes. He groans, getting himself ready with a huff, unbuckling his belt, cooing down at you when you struggled to do it, he cups your cheeks. “My pretty girl, you wanna make me feel good? You wanna make it up to me? You’re gonna take my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours?”
You nod, suddenly becoming shy at how direct he is. He tuts, shaking his head, fingers gripping the skin beneath your skin roughly, looking down at you and shaking his head. He wants you to beg for him. Your pussy grows wet at his change in attitude.
“How badly do you need my cock?”
“I need it so badly. I’ve been thinking about your cock every single day, I’ll do anything to feel and taste it.” You start begging and pleading, holding his hands softly and kissing the flesh as you know that you’re his soft spot.
But it makes no difference, he won’t give you what you need unless you beg for him the way he wants you to. His eyes grow dark and his voice goes deeper, looking down at you seductively, fingers pressing into your mouth as he gives you a taste for only second. “Say it then.” His finger prods between your top and bottom lip, eyes dark as he’s waiting for the word that he’s been so desperate to hear since rekindling with you:
“Please Daddy!!! Please fuck my throat, Daddy.” You scream at the top of your lungs.
“There’s my good girl.”
Your hands grip his clothed cock, impatiently waiting as he rids himself of his boxers. You bring your knees close together in a bid to feel something which doesn’t go unnoticed by him: “My greedy slut has no patience.”
He shakes his head.
Your anticipation builds as you grasp his thighs, eagerly opening your mouth and meeting his lustful gaze. His hand caresses your cheek before guiding his cock against your chin, his heavy length slapping against your skin. He enters your mouth, you close your eyes and moan into him instantly, savoring the sensation and losing yourself in the moment.
His deep groan resonates as you swallow, and he grips your face while withdrawing his cock slowly. Spit gathers at the edges of your lips as he thrusts back into your mouth. A whimper escapes as the head of his arousal reaches the back of your throat, causing your eyes to water.
"Fuck," he hisses, picking up the pace ever so slightly. Your hands ascend, clutching his belt loops, drawing him nearer until his hips meet your chin.
He lingers momentarily before withdrawing, granting you a brief respite before pulling him back in. He watches intently as each thrust causes your throat to bulge, his fingers pressing against your neck, relishing the sensation.
Your mind is adrift, captivated by him and the sensations he invokes. Your lips ache from the stretch, mirroring the intensity elsewhere. Unbeknownst to you, your thighs rub together, seeking relief from the building pressure within.
His hands descend, teasing with pinches and nipple flicks, eliciting involuntary jerks. His cock, unwavering, continues its rhythmic exploration of your mouth. Gripping your thighs, he forcefully spreads your legs, prompting a cough as he grunts at the tightness, his fingers tantalizingly close to your core. You hold onto his belt loops, immersed in the moment.
"So wet just for me, all for Daddy," he murmurs, his fingers exploring the depths between your thighs, causing your toes to curl. "I wish I could eat you out at the same time, baby," he groans. A whimper escapes as he inserts two fingers, your legs spreading wide in tandem with the rhythmic dance of his mouth and fingers, propelling you toward the precipice.
"So perfect for me. Down on your knees just for me, my cock in my princesses pretty little mouth." he declares, plunging his cock down your throat. Tears and saliva cascade into your hair as you whimper. He looks down at you with a mixture of adoration and sadism in his eyes. You can tell he’s still having a conflict, he wants to make love to you and make you feel like you’re in infinity but he also wants to ruin you.
Your chest heaves as he accelerates his fingers, his other hand anchoring you with pressure against your lower stomach. "Can you hear how wet you are for me?" he taunts, the audible squelch accompanying each swift movement. As the intensity heightens, a new dimension of pleasure unfolds, leaving you teetering on the edge of ecstasy.
Your eyes begin watering as his thrusts become more languid, his eyes widening in size as he moans your name, sounds of pleasure leaving his mouth as his grip tightens on the makeshift ponytail he’s bunched your hair into, roughly yanking it to bring you even closer. “My pretty baby.” He admires you as you continue to open wide for him, drool and spit staining your cheeks
“Swallow.” He manages to demand in his hazy state, his voice a complete contrast to his gentle tone a few seconds ago. His cum drips out, so much of it.
You oblige like the good girl that you are, making Jeno’s heart race as he caresses your embrace, cooing at how good you’ve been for him. The liquid burns down your throat as you slurp every last drop, it drops all over your face. Jeno bites his lip and moans at the sight. Your panting against his cock as you savour every last taste, his cum that leaves a mark as it drips on your flesh.
The next thing you know is that he’s on the floor, knelt down beside you as he presses kisses all over your face. He melts at how cute you look covered in his cum, your cheeks a subtle pink as your lips curve up in a giddy smile. “Am I forgiven?”
He sighs, pressing the softest of kisses all over your face. “You’ve already made it up for me, my love.” He smiles, the most precious look ever. You don’t have time to respond because he lifts you up and kisses you, slamming the back of your body against the cold tiles.
“I’m gonna fuck you against the wall.”
He acts swiftly, aching desire between you both palpable. Impatience skips over prolonged foreplay. His hands roughly envelop your boobs as he profoundly fucks into you, your walls sucking him in.
His hips maintain a rapid, fervent pace against yours, igniting a symphony of sensations. Your voice rises, a crescendo of his name escaping your lips, the echo lingering in the air, dancing with the possibility of reaching others' ears.
"Good girl," he breathes, a whisper of dominance laced with desire. "You want everyone to hear how much you love me?"
In the aftermath, a blissful numbness envelops your body—a harmonious blend of pleasure and surrender. The echoes of passion's orchestration linger, leaving you immersed in the aftermath.
He continues his rhythmic movements through his climax, your legs trembling around him, creating a delicate balance. A subtle exploration finds that sweet spot, adding a layer of intimacy to the shared experience.
Whispering softly, he notes, "You're still so tight for me," expressing a connection that transcends the physical. The declaration of a need to be close, to share in the culmination of shared desire, adds a tender note to the symphony of emotions.
""I love you," you whisper with genuine warmth, the words echoing the depth of your feelings. "I've never stopped loving you, and I never will. It's you—always has been and always will be. I want to grow old with you, experience everything with you. I love you."
"You're incredibly beautiful. You're so good to me. You're my entire world," Jeno expresses, his voice a tender melody that wraps around your heart.
"Y/N," he speaks softly after a moment of quiet, his voice carrying a vulnerable tone that unveils layers of emotion. His eyes search yours, seeking reassurance and a promise of permanence.
"You won't leave me again?" he questions, the weight of his vulnerability evident in every word.
"Never," you reassure, your fingers tenderly running through his hair. "I will love you until I stop breathing."
A gentle smile graces his lips, and he closes his eyes, immersing himself in the rhythmic beat of your heart against his chest. His fingers weave through your hair, creating a comforting melody, and his breath becomes a soothing lullaby that caresses the intimate space between you two.
In a moment that lingers with sincerity and depth, he opens his eyes, gazing into your soul. "I love your more," he confesses, the words carrying the weight of every emotion he's ever felt. His declaration is not just a statement; it's a promise, a pledge to navigate the journey of love with you, embracing the beauty of every shared heartbeat and whispered melody.
✧ ✧ ✧
✧ ✧ ✧
Beneath the celestial canvas of a perfect graduation day, the atmosphere buzzes with an electric mix of excitement and nerves. As you stand on the stage, a serene breeze gently rustles the diplomas in your hands, symbolising the journey of growth and resilience. Above, clouds drift in the blue sky like transient dreams.
You’re surrounded by the sea of your peers, each face reflects the shared triumphs and challenges of the academic voyage. The air is thick with your nerves but your newfound ability to navigate anxiety renders the experience more bearable. You’re doing better, emotionally and physically.
So many eyes are looking up your way but your attention is drawn, unwaveringly, to one face — your handsome boyfriend. Dressed in a graduation suit that complements the solemnity of the occasion, his recently dyed blonde hair adds a touch of vibrancy to the scene. He looks hot.
His gaze meets yours, and as if orchestrated by destiny, the world around you blurs, leaving only the two of you in sharp focus. The warmth of his mesmerising smile works like a balm, dissolving the remnants of nervousness that linger. In this shared moment, he blows a gentle kiss, a silent reassurance that transcends words.
He motions to his phone and you smile his way, breaking eye contact to take your own phone from your front pocket, his text messages leaving a mark on your heart.
As Professor Suh announces the imminent commencement of the valedictorian speech, you swiftly tuck your phone away. You draw in a deep breath. A fleeting but meaningful smile passes between you and Jeno, His eyes, a comforting anchor, capture your attention one last time.
You observe him lean back, sigh, and brace himself, a knowing expression gracing his face, he knows that you haven’t listened to him. A subtle smirk plays on your lips as you witness his friends, quick to tease him. With the echo of your smile lingering in the air, you step forward, propelled by a newfound confidence, falling into the depth of Jeno's eyes one last time before embracing the responsibility of delivering the valedictorian speech.
“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed faculty, honored guests, and my extraordinary fellow graduates,
As we stand on the cusp of a momentous occasion, I want to extend my heartfelt congratulations to each and every one of you. Graduating and completing your honors is no small feat, and you should all be immensely proud of your hard work and dedication.
As I reflect on the journey that brought us to this significant moment, I want to share a story that began on my very first day at this university—a story that unfolded into a groundbreaking initiative. A project, focusing on Virtual Reality Therapy, emerged as a transformative endeavor, leveraging VR technology to construct therapeutic environments for those navigating stress, anxiety, or specific psychological conditions. The aim was audacious yet profound: to pioneer an approach that delves into the intricate realms of emotional, social, and cultural interactions within these virtual therapeutic spaces.
I must admit, the inception of this project was nerve-wracking. The unexpected assignment, the weight of its aspirations—I never envisioned being chosen for such an innovative venture. Yet, in the midst of uncertainty, I found myself humbled and honored to be part of this ambitious pursuit.
This project was not a solo endeavor; it was a collaborative journey, and I had the privilege of working alongside someone exceptional. Jeno, my partner in this endeavor, brought his engineering expertise to the table, playing a vital role in translating our vision into reality. Together, we navigated the challenges and triumphs of this innovative initiative.
As the project unfolded, it garnered recognition beyond our university's borders. It's not my intention to bore you with the details, for the university has rightfully celebrated its achievements. This initiative has earned global accolades, winning numerous awards and gaining recognition worldwide—an accomplishment that resonates not just within these academic halls but across the international stage.
Yet, if I may be candid, my personal connection with the project has evolved. While its success is undeniable, and its impact has reached far and wide, my focus has shifted beyond the accolades. It's a testament to the journey we've shared and the growth we've experienced together. Jeno and I, alongside all of you, have played our part in this remarkable chapter of our academic lives.
Now, as I shift the focus of our journey to a more personal realm, let me unveil why this project has become the most profound and romantic chapter of my academic venture. It’s a tale of love, of unexpected connections, and how, amidst the pixels and algorithms, I discovered something far more intricate—the story of how I met my boyfriend, Jeno.
Picture this: as we navigated the intricacies of the project, Jeno, my partner in this venture, revealed a side of himself that extended beyond the confines of his engineering expertise. He was, in essence, the orchestrator of a symphony of intelligence and charm, yet too nervous to stand before you today. His modesty led him to suggest that I take full credit for our shared efforts.
I couldn’t, in all honesty, adhere to his suggestion. You see, I find an unparalleled joy in showcasing him, in proudly proclaiming that he is not only the love of my life but also a brilliant mind beneath the carefully curated image he upholds. Jeno, despite his attempts to downplay it, exudes intelligence effortlessly, and it’s this subtle brilliance that makes him irresistibly attractive.
Sure, we’ve had our fair share of arguments, a clash of wills rooted in the image he feels compelled to uphold. But, oh, how we love. Love transcends the disagreements, and the project, beyond its academic significance, emerged as the catalyst that brought us together. It changed my life, and if you were to look into my eyes, you’d see the depth of my feelings—a love that transforms the way we gaze at each other.
Our eyes tell a story of admiration and attraction, a silent language that binds us with an invisible thread even when words remain unspoken. My eyes, always twinkling and smiling in the company of the love of my life, bear witness to undying feelings—a connection that surpasses the boundaries of time and space.
I share this not merely as a personal anecdote but as a testament to what truly matters. Love, in all its complexities and simplicity, matters more than the rigors of university assignments. University, at its core, is about forging connections and savoring the joy in every moment. It isn’t the end of the world, and even if we stumble, even if we fail, we will endure and live on.
As I reflect on our journey, I can honestly say I have no regrets. This year, I faced a tough challenge—severe anxiety. It affected everything—my studies, friendships, and especially my relationship with Jeno. But I want you to know, I overcame it. My message to all of you is that no matter what life throws your way, you have the strength to overcome it. I believe in you.
Life is unpredictable, but that's what makes it beautiful. Live your life fully, surround yourself with good friends and family. If things get tough, our pods, created by Jeno and me, is there for you.
And speaking of Jeno, the love of my life, this speech is for him. He's been my strength, and I dedicate these words to him. Thank you, and may your journeys ahead be filled with triumphs and love.
So, as we stand on the brink of a new chapter, let’s celebrate the love that intertwines our stories. For in this shared journey, we find the essence of what makes university life extraordinary—moments of connection, joy, and, above all, love.
Thank you, and cheers to the Class of 2023. May your journeys ahead be filled with triumphs and love.”
As the cheers, claps, and laughter of the audience envelop the room, your joy is palpable. Hats soar into the air, mirroring the elation etched across your face. Happiness radiates from you, a beacon in the sea of celebration. Amidst the sea of faces, you find yourself scanning for one person, and a momentary pang of disappointment strikes when his seat appears empty.
However, a sudden embrace from behind interrupts your search, and there's only one pair of arms that could make you feel this secure. Your boyfriend envelops you in a back hug, his whispered words in your ear a sweet symphony of pride and love. He praises your performance, telling you just how incredibly well you did. “I’m so proud of you, I love you.”
His arms, strong and muscular, create a haven around you. You melt into the embrace, feeling the warmth and security he provides. Leaning back into him, his words take a playful turn. His hot breath against your ear, he smirks and teases, “You think you're the only one who can embarrass people?”
Suddenly, his lips meet yours in a public display of affection on the elevated stage. The kiss is not just a peck; it's heated, passionate, and unapologetic. The world fades away as he doesn't seem to have any intention of stopping.
In the heat of the moment, the kiss is all-consuming, a full-on collision of passion. Your tongues engage in a fervent dance, an intimate tangle that heightens the intensity. Jeno's bites on your lips add a playful edge to the heated exchange, each nibble sending sparks through the connection.
As he breathes heavily against you, the air between you crackles with desire. The sensation of his arousal intensifies, palpable in the way he presses against you. His grip on your hair is tight, an assertion of desire that elicits a wince, a sweet blend of pleasure and a hint of pain.
Amid the fervor, your arm circles around his neck, drawing him closer. A smile that plays on your lips before you break away to catch your breath. “I’m not embarrassed. Why would I be? I love you, and I don't care who sees and knows."
His grin widens as he witnesses your transformation—a bolder, more unapologetic version of yourself. In this moment, you radiate confidence, embracing the essence of who you are without concern for others' opinions. His love for you deepens as he watches you stand tall, proud of the person you've become. In his eyes, your authenticity and resilience are truly something to be cherished.
The audience, initially cheering for your performance, now witnesses a different kind of spectacle—one fueled by love, playfulness, and an unapologetic embrace of affection. It's a scene etched in the memories of those present, a testament to the unabashed love between you and your boyfriend.
As you both watch each other with affectionate smiles, Jeno can't help but speak up, his tone filled with playful disbelief. "Really? You're not embarrassed? What happened to that line you were gonna—" He pauses, groaning and widening his eyes as you tap on the microphone, shamelessly grabbing the audience's attention once again.
“Y/N. No. I was just joking. Oh God.”
A moment of silence descends like a dropped pin could be heard. "I have something to add," you say, holding Jeno's hand and locking eyes with him. "I don't believe in God, but God made you for me. I love you, Lee Jeno."
Jeno groans as people whistle but as he looks in your eyes, he has to admit that he’s quite fond of this moment. He shakes his head, coming up behind you once more. "I love you more," he counters with a teasing smile.
"Really, God made me for you? That's a good one," he remarks, his tone light but with a subtle darkness in his eyes.
You respond with a sweet smile, "Never in my life did I think I'd experience a love story like this."
Your gaze is light and affectionate, but Jeno's eyes darken as he playfully accuses, "My blasphemous girl."
The atmosphere is meant to be romantic, he’s kissing you so softly and cooing into your ear as you melt into his back, his strong arms caging you in. The crowd erupts in cheers, and you force a smile, concealing the internal struggle between desire and the need to maintain composure.
Your sharp warning cuts through the air, adding a tense edge. "It's supposed to be a romantic moment; I will cut your fucking dick off," you declare, your tone carrying a mix of threat and irritation.
"Don't talk to me like that when you're the one rubbing against me like a bitch in heat." He grits through his teeth, somehow managing to conceal himself when he lands a slap on your ass, warning you to behave.
"This is a cute moment. My parents are here, and so are yours. Your mom is crying," he whispers in your ear, prompting a wave and a few tears as you look her way but she’s not even paying attention to you, you roll your eyes as Jeno blows her a kiss.
However, he quickly shifts the tone, calling out your arousal. "And you're horny?" he remarks, a mix of amusement and admonishment. "You better stop, or the entire audience will hear you scream my name," he warns, heightening the suspense.
"And you're not wearing underwear? You needy slut.” Jeno teases with a playful smirk evident in his voice.
Your response, delivered with a pout, adds a touch of endearing innocence to the playful exchange. “You literally took it off in the car.” You protest, the pout reflecting a mix of innocence and mild reproach.
Jeno's counter, delivered with a chuckle. "Yeah, because you made me park halfway here because you wanted to ride my cock.”
“What was I supposed to do? You was so cute in the car, telling me that I’m your other half, that you see yourself marrying me and growing old with me, did you or did you not deserve to get your cock sucked in that moment?”
He gives you a knowing smirk. “I did.”
- -
if you enjoy please leave an ask <3 talk to me. i've uploaded this 3 times cus ive been shadowbanned
comment to be added to the tag list for the sequel
wanna check out more mfal content? check out the mfal ml here includes text posts, never seen before scenes, smut scenes, facts and behind the scenes content <3
#jeno#jeno smut#lee jeno#nct jeno#jeno x reader#nct 127#nct u#nct#nct dream#nct smut#nct scenarios#nct x reader#nct imagines#nct dream jeno#jeno fluff#jeno imagines#jeno icons#jeno moodboard#kpop fic#jeno angst#nct lee jeno#jeno texts#opposite attract#fic mfal
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Meet the Parents | LN4
Pairing: Lando Norris x reader (she/her)
Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!
Masterlist
Lando's parents had always been his steadfast pillars of support, unwavering in their encouragement through life's twists and turns. From his earliest dreams to his most ambitious endeavours, they stood by him with unwavering faith and boundless love. Yet, there was something uniquely daunting about the prospect of introducing the love of his life to them.
He longed for his parents to embrace this new chapter of his life with the same warmth they had always shown him his whole life. But with that longing came the fear of disappointment, the fear that this pivotal moment might not unfold as smoothly as he hoped. In the days leading up to the meeting, Lando was riddled with anxiety and doubt. He rehearsed conversations in his mind, imagining different scenarios and outcomes. Despite his confidence in her and their relationship, there was an undeniable unease lingering in his heart.
The surprise that Lando's parents experienced upon realising the true nature of his relationship added an extra layer of complexity to the anticipated meeting. They had caught glimpses of her at race weekends, exchanged polite pleasantries, but never did they fathom that she held such a significant place in his life. In their minds, Lando had always been the embodiment of the carefree bachelor, navigating life with a nonchalant ease that belied any serious commitments.
The sudden revelation that he had arranged a family dinner to formally introduce her spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings. This was no casual encounter or passing fling; this was someone special, someone he wanted to share with the most important people in his life. It was a departure from his usual approach, a signal that this relationship held a significance unlike any before.
With a mixture of anticipation and nervousness coursing through him, Lando stood before his parents' home, his heart pounding in rhythm with the uncertainty of the moment. As his hand hovered over the doorbell, he felt the weight of his decision pressing down on him, the culmination of weeks of anticipation and apprehension.
Lando's grip on her hand tightened, his fingers closing around hers with a fervent intensity. The pressure of his grasp increased, his knuckles turning white as he sought to anchor himself in the midst of his swirling emotions. Sensing his unease, she squeezed his hand gently in return, offering a silent reminder that she was there, steadfast and unwavering by his side. In her touch, he found solace, a lifeline amidst the storm of his thoughts and fears.
As the door swung open, revealing the familiar warmth of his parents' home, Lando felt a rush of emotions flood over him. His heart raced with anticipation, his palms grew clammy, and his breath caught in his throat. But as he stepped inside and his parents enveloped him in a tight embrace, all his fears seemed to melt away.
“Welcome home, son,” Adam, his father said, his voice filled with pride and affection.
“It's so good to see you, Lando,” his mother, Cisca, added, her eyes sparkling with joy.
Lando returned their embrace, feeling the weight of their love and support wash over him like a comforting blanket, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of home.
“Hi, Mum, Dad,” Lando said, his voice quivering with emotion as he stood beside her, his heart pounding in his chest. “This is Y/N.”
She smiled warmly, her hand finding comfort in Lando's as she met his parents' gaze with a gentle reassurance. The love and support in the room was palpable, enveloping them in a cocoon of warmth and acceptance.
Lando's parents exchanged a knowing glance, a silent understanding passing between them as they took in the sight of their son standing beside the person who had captured his heart. Their smiles widened with pride, reflecting the joy and happiness that radiated from Lando's eyes.
“Welcome to the family, Y/N,” Adam said, his voice filled with warmth as he stepped forward to pull her into a warm embrace.
She returned the hug, feeling a sense of belonging wash over her as she was enveloped in the embrace of Lando's family. In that moment, surrounded by the love and support of those who mattered most to Lando, she knew that she had found a home—a place where she was cherished and accepted for who she was.
“Thank you,” Y/N said, her voice filled with gratitude as she pulled back from the hug, her eyes shining with emotion. “I'm so happy to be here.”
As Lando navigated the familiar streets of London, the city lights casting a warm glow upon the darkened streets, Y/N stole a moment to study him. She watched as the tension that had gripped his shoulders earlier in the evening seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of ease and contentment that radiated from his very being.
“I can't believe you were so worried,” she chuckled, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.
Lando glanced over at her, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he recalled the whirlwind of emotions he had experienced earlier that night.
“I know, I know,” he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment. “But you know how it is with parents. You always want them to approve.”
Y/N reached out to gently squeeze his hand, her touch grounding him in the present moment.
“They clearly adore you. And I can see why,” she reassured him, her eyes sparkling with affection.
Lando felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words, a sense of gratitude washing over him. In Y/N's presence, he felt understood and cherished in a way he had never experienced before. She saw him—the real him—and loved him all the more for it.
“Thank you, for being here, for being you,” he said softly, his voice laced with sincerity. She smiled, her heart swelling with love for the man beside her.
“Always,” she promised, her gaze meeting his with unwavering devotion.
#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#formula 1#mclaren#mclaren f1#lando norris#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fic#lando norris smut#lando norris imagine#formula one#mclaren racing#lando norris x oc#lando norris x reader#f1 driver x reader#f1 x reader#ln4 x reader#lando x you#lando norris x you#lando norris fluff#lando x reader#ln4#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#ln4 fluff
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ⅱ ▬ ⁽ 𝑔𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓉 ⁾
𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₃˖₈ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡
𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW, dubcon, rape/noncon elements, explicit content, spectrophilia, ghost/human, rough sex, "unprotected" sex, creampie, somnophilia, cunnilingus. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎
𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: after coming home from a grueling day of work, instead of being able to relax, the feeling of someone watching you has you scared.
꒰m!ghost ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱
CLICK
𝒯 he soft glow of your lamp casts a warm yellow light throughout the desolate home, but it fails to dispel the darkness that lingers. You make a mental note, weariness seeping into your thoughts, to buy a new lightbulb from the mart later in the week. The dimness of the room matches the heaviness in your heart, as you feel the weight of loneliness settle upon your shoulders, part of you knows you should be used to coming home with no one to greet you, but it still stings nonetheless.
Struggling to remove your gym shoes, you let out an annoyed groan, exhaustion causing you to stumble and collide into the wall with a thump. Finally freeing your feet, you stretch your arms above your head and let out a tired sigh. Your muscles ache from the long day at work, and the fatigue seems to seep into your bones. Your eyes flutter closed from the effects of sleep deprivation but your stomach grumbles with a ravenous craving for a thick pastrami sandwich. The thought of sinking your teeth into the juicy meat and tangy mustard momentarily distracts you from the weariness that engulfs you.
Discarding your wool coat onto the carpeted floor, you shuffle yourself wearily down the hallway towards the kitchen, fully expecting it to still be a mess from three days ago. The cluttered countertops and unwashed dishes serve as a constant reminder of your chaotic schedule and the lack of time you have for yourself. It’s as if the mess mirrors the disarray in your own life, and you can’t help but feel overwhelmed by it all. At times you missed living with your parents and not having any responsibilities. Being an adult was so stress-inducing you just wanted to lay in bed and cry sometimes.
Leaning against the hallway wall, you find solace in pressing your forehead against the cool, flowered wallpaper. Sleep weighs heavily on your eyelids, momentarily clouding your vision and tempting you to succumb to its embrace. And just as your legs threaten to give way, a gentle chill dances down your spine, jolting you awake with a surge of electricity. A tired sigh escapes your lips as you run your palm down your face, mustering the strength to continue towards the kitchen. The chaotic mess that greets you almost makes you cry.
Resting against the entryway to the kitchen, a pang of regret washes over you. Deep down, and not even buried that far truly, you wish you hadn’t taken your coworker’s shift. Despite your fondness for the woman, working two consecutive twelve-hour shifts was more than you could handle. And as the new nurse in the hospital, you were an easy target for those who wanted to shirk their responsibilities, they left you to run around like a headlesss chicken.
You finally gather the energy to carry yourself into the kitchen, reaching for a cup from the cupboard and turning on the sink faucet, allowing lukewarm water to fill it. Impatiently you can’t wait for the tap to run cold and quickly knock back the glass, the satisfaction of quenching your thirst outweighs the temperature. Slouching against the sink, you take a moment to stretch, feeling your joints crack and your muscles slacken. You flutter your eyes shut to stop yourself from gazing at the mess that’s your kitchen.
Placing the glass on the worn countertop, you set your medical bag on the kitchen island and head towards the staircase, overwhelmed by the longing for a shower and some rest. However, as you approach the hallway, a sudden shiver runs down your spine, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms. Your legs momentarily go numb, and you manage to grab hold of the stair railing, preventing yourself from stumbling. After being on your feet for a whole day, you were shocked you had not immediately collapsed when you walked in the door.
A sudden sense of unease washes over you when you survey your modest home, the horrid sensation of being observed seeping into your skin and festering in your mind. It’s as if the feeling surrounds you, leaving you breathless and on edge. Your eyes dart between the dimly lit kitchen and the shadowy staircase, it’s as if the shadows themselves are in motion. Objects seem out of place, and didn’t you leave your bag on the island?
Confusion creases your brow as you search for your bag, it takes a while but you discover it leaning against the couch’s armrest in the living room. Your unease deepens, causing a slight twitch in your eye. The entire situation leaves you unsettled. Anxiously, you bite down on your lower lip, feeling the sting as your teeth sink into the flesh. Once more, the sensation of being watched intensifies, as though someone is observing your every move, listening to your every thought, and knowing your every action. Goosebumps raise on your skin, skittering down your back.
You shake your head in disbelief and pinch the bridge of your nose, the weight of exhaustion and hunger bearing down on you. ( the latter was something you would fix in the morning, as you did not have the energy to cook anything.) The darkness of the hallway only adds to your supposed delusion. With a heavy sigh, you push yourself away from the railing and begin the arduous climb up the stairs.
Stopping just shy of the top of the stairs, you reach your hand out and glide it along the cool walls beside you, feeling for the light switch— one may think that you would know where the light was in a house that you’ve lived in for two years, but you seemed to fail to find it every time. Your palm glides along the walls, desperately searching for the elusive light switch. It’s a futile attempt, as if the house itself is playing tricks on you. The anticipation builds as you inch closer to the top, your body tensing with each step.
Finally, the click of the switch echoes through the silence. But it’s not your doing. Panic sets in as you realize someone else must be in the house, but soon the hallway is bathed in harsh light, exposing every shadow and corner. Yet no one is there. You stare at your hand, questioning whether you had unknowingly flipped the switch.
Ignoring the fear that threatens to consume you, you force yourself to continue. Quickly, you make your way to your room, seeking solace behind the closed door. But even within the confines of your sanctuary, the feeling of being watched persists. It’s as if an unseen presence lingers, peering into the depths of your soul.
Your skin tingles in question as the ethereal sensation of fingers delicately cupping your cheek sends shivers down your spine (truly almost nonexistent). A surge of unease washes over you, even though you can’t see anything, you can sense an intense, ravenous gaze fixated on you. Shaking off the remnants of your episode, you take a hesitant step forward, determined to overcome any lingering apprehension. With a burst of courage, you scurry to your dresser and retrieve an oversized T-shirt, a memento stolen from your older brother years ago, along with a pair of plain black cotton panties.
No matter what strange occurrences were unfolding, you refuse to let them hinder your plans for a hot shower. The past twenty-four hours have left you covered in sweat and grime, and you are determined to cleanse yourself of it all.
With eager anticipation, you make your way to the bathroom, barely bothering to close the door behind you. Placing your clothes in the sink, you turn towards the shower, pushing the curtain aside to adjust the knobs and pull up the shower valve, spurring on the hot water. As the bathroom fills with steam, your breathing becomes slightly shallow, the heat causing your cheeks to flush.
Stepping back towards the sink, you gaze at the fogged-up mirror, your reflection blurred and distorted. Like a scene from a horror movie, you raise your hand and press it against the glass, wiping downwards and watching as the water droplets cascade lower, dripping on your discarded clothing below.
As your eyes meet your reflection once more, they immediately lose focus and fixate on the imposing figure standing just a few meters behind you. Towering over six feet tall, his muscular frame exudes a suffocating amount of dominance and power. A scream of terror and disbelief escapes your lips, and in a panic, you grab the hand soap from the sink and swiftly turn around, hurling it towards the intruder. The bottle soars through the air, crashing into the wall before landing on the tiled floor.
There was no one there; you were going crazy.
“Calm down. You need to sleep. It’s been a long day; your mind is playing tricks on you.”
You were just full of excuses, desperately trying to maintain your sanity. But surprisingly, those excuses provided a strange comfort, no matter how unbelievable they were. So, you decided to settle yourself down, shedding your work pants and kicking them aside. Your shirt and undergarments followed suit, as you let go of all inhibitions. In that moment, the fear that had consumed you was momentarily forgotten.
You gazed at your reflection in the mirror, taking a moment to wipe away any imperfections. Your eyes wandered down to your body, taking in the soft ridges of faint stretch marks on your breasts with your fingertips. As your palms venture lower, they lovingly caress your thighs, reveling in the velvety softness of your skin and the warmth that radiates from them.
With a shake of your head, you release a sigh of surrender, allowing your hands to fall gracelessly to your sides. You take a step closer to the inviting tub, parting the shower curtain to reveal the steamy water within. As you enter the embrace of the hot water, a soft moan of pleasure escapes your lips, the heat enveloping your entire being and melting away the tension in your muscles. This shower was exactly what you craved.
After diligently scrubbing your skin until it’s both raw (and irresistibly smooth), you find yourself sitting on the floor of the tub, relishing in the sensation of the water cascading over your hair and body. However, as much as you yearn to stay in the blissful sanctuary that is your tub until the water turns cold, you reluctantly acknowledge the losing battle against sleep that you’re already engaged in.
Carefully rising from the bathtub, you extend your hand under the cooling sprays of the water to twist the knobs and halt the shower, pushing the valve down afterward. Exiting the tub, you forgo the use of a towel and opt to let the air dry you while reaching for your toothpaste and toothbrush from their respective places. Relocating your clothes from the sink to the nearby shelf, you proceed to brush your teeth swiftly, counting to fifty before spitting and returning everything to its original position.
You grab your face wash and dispense a small amount onto your palm, with gentle strokes, you massage the cleanser into your skin, creating a lather that removes the remnants of yesterday morning’s messy makeup. Switching on the tap, you lean over the sink, allowing the warm water to flow into your hands, smoothly gliding it across your face and rinsing away the soap.
Your back divots suddenly with a delicate grace as an ethereal caress firmly grasps your sensetive hips, eliciting a startled gasp of surprise from your parted lips. Your eyes pop open, darting around in a hasty manner, well, stupidly, seeing as you hadn’t quite finished washing your face--- the remnants of soap trickling into your eyes. A sharp hiss escapes your mouth as you instinctively lower yourself to rinse away the discomfort.
Once more the tantalizing trail of fingers tracing along your spine is undeniably present. You remain still, your muscles tensing in anticipation, trembling as the touch ascends higher, encircling your neck. With trembling hands, you turn off the faucet and inhale deeply, attempting to steady your racing heart. The deep, seductive timbre of your name being whispered intimately close to your ear fills you with a bone-chilling terror. Quickly, you snatch your garments from the nearby shelf and flee into the sanctuary of your bedroom, momentarily struggling with the bathroom door.
“Calm down, calm down; this is not happening. You’re hallucinating.”
You erratically throw on your shirt, using it to also dry your face, and shimmy your panties up your legs, the soft cotton resting comfortably on your hips. You quickly crawl into bed and pull the comforter up to your chin, shutting your eyes and tucking your bottom lip into your mouth. (Your hair could wait, you were not getting out of bed.)
“Hey, Alexa, turn off: Bedroom Lights. ”
You can’t even recall switching on the overhead light, but honestly, you’re past the point of caring. The mechanical response plunges the room into darkness, and the moment your head hits the pillow (as comfortable as it can be when cold and damp), you’re fast asleep.
You’re unsure how long it’s been, but your eyes flutter open, heavy with sleep when you feel the sensation of large, calloused hands gliding up your stomach softly. The touch is unfamiliar, but it doesn’t necessarily frighten you as it should, instead, you can feel yourself throbbing in your panties, gentle and shy. You blame your sleep deprivation on the lack of fear.
The hands approach your bare breasts, a thumb rubbing over the taught peaks of your pebbled nipples causing a soft gasp to escape your luscious lips, your cheeks burning with fiery heat, and your body arching ever so slightly from the bed, offering your breasts to the awaiting, eager palms.
Your pussy, warm and slick, constricts and drools with your arousal. Maybe it’s the thrill of imagining a supernatural encounter, but you’ve never felt as aroused and eager as you do at this moment; dripping and throbbing.
You feel a surge of anticipation as your panties are gently shifted aside, a trail of your desire following suit. Ghostly fingers swiftly trail up your inner thigh, getting closer to your sopping pussy, and despite the uncertainty of the situation, the mysterious touch ignites a fire within you. The paranormality behind the sensation makes your heart pound and your pussy salivate with need. Lost in a whirlwind of lustful thoughts, a soft caress on your clit causes your hips to involuntarily buck, your lip bruised from the force of your bite. “Ah~”
Your voice comes out as a breathy, needy whine. The suspense of where and when the next touch will land sends shivers of excitement down your spine. And as soon as you're almost on the verge of begging, a rush of hot air sweeps over your dripping core, causing your pussy to clench instinctively. Your throbbing clit pulsates with an insatiable ache, lost in a haze of pleasure, and your eyes roll back, unable to fully grasp the intensity of the experience.
As the sensation engulfs you, your throbbing bud is devoured by their hungry mouth. The combination of their saliva and your own intoxicating arousal trickles down, moistening your tight, quivering entrance. The sensation is nothing short of divine, as if their touch is delicately fondling and slurping at every nerve within your shuddering body.
Your hips, moving with a will of their own, rise from the bed and writhe. You can’t help but squeal softly as firm, powerful, and large hands encircle your hips, forcefully pressing you down onto the mattress, indulging in your warm, sticky juices; skillfully teasing your clit with its tongue. Your cries and pleas echo loudly, a stark contrast to your usual quiet demeanor when having sex with men.
Oh, but you felt like a bitch in heat, like your entire being was engulfed in flames and burning you from the inside out— it made you want to scream and cry.
Your body trembles uncontrollably as the knot tightens, gripping your stomach, thighs, and lower abdomen. In a desperate bid for relief from the agonizing pleasure, you instinctively gyrate your hips. Your vision blurs and fades into a blinding white haze, signaling your impending climax. But just as you teeter on the edge of release, the touches abruptly cease, leaving you yearning for more.
You whimper and attempt to reach down to your soaking pussy to pat and rub at your engorged clit, but you unintentionally freeze in place; a small knot of fear causes your eyes to well up, yet it only intensifies your craving for its caress. When nothing further occurs, you start to plead, like a desperate whore— as if you hadn’t been touched in years.
And as if pleased, the ghostly caresses return to your sensitive clit, moving with a deliberate slowness that sends shivers down your spine. You can’t help but let out a series of soft moans, as you offer up sweet words of gratitude to the mysterious entity pleasuring you.
“Ah, yes, yes, please!”
Your body tenses as the knot tightens, aching with a mix of pain and pleasure. Your hips move uncontrollably, seeking more of that sweet torment. Yet, it stops once more, leaving you to come down from your ruined high. You’re a sobbing mess now, grinding against the air, waiting for something, anything.
Your throat constricts suddenly, leaving you breathless as fingers delve into your tight, dripping pussy, curling and prodding your spongey g-spot. The digits seem to know your pussy like the back of their hand, stroking every nerve inside of you. The squelching sound of your arousal drowns out your heavy breathing and mewling moans. The entity suddenly adds its thumb to the mix, circling your clit quickly. The pleasure escalates swiftly, and your eyes squeeze shut as a rush of pure ecstasy overwhelms you, leaving your thighs quivering and twitching from the deep, blissful climax.
After the high subsides, you pant for air, the tension easing from your throat. You sprawl sensually on your bed, clit throbbing and arousal coating your sheets. A tepid, exhausted breath escapes your lips as a thickness delicately nudges apart the folds of your pulsating entrance, prompting an instinctual urge to flee. However, unyielding hands firmly pull you closer, and your legs reluctantly surrender to their command.
You can feel a bulbous, mushroom-shaped tip forcefully penetrating your quivering, weeping pussy eliciting a mixture of pleasure and pain at the invasion. Your pretty eyes roll quickly to the back of your head as the unknown entity plunges its heavy, thick cock into your tight entrance, your thighs pressed to your chest and legs draped over broad shoulders.
You keen softly, as your pliable walls ensnare his cock in a vice-like, velvety embrace. “More, I need more; please fuck me, please.” Your plea is abruptly silenced as its thick length withdraws from within you, only to resume with an intense, unconventional rhythm—leaving you no opportunity to adjust to its entire length.
The unyielding grip on your waist marks you in the most delicious way, leaving behind a trail of bruises that only heighten the pleasure coursing through you. Your pussy feels so full and sated, despite nothing physically filling you, you throb with satisfaction.
Lost in the depths of your pleasure, the reasons behind your desperate pleas elude you, but you continue to spill them forth without hesitation, unable to think. Once again, your breath is stolen away, your throat constricts, and an intense orgasm surges through you like a forceful tidal wave. A delicious warmth then radiates from your core, spreading through your tummy.
The most painful and pleasurable feeling of being filled with cum has you aching for a taste of it. Your body goes limp, but whatever is fucking you doesn’t stop; their cock pistols into you despite you slowly losing consciousness.
As your eyes flutter open, you gradually rise from the bed. The room is shrouded in darkness, leaving you disoriented about the time you’ve spent asleep. Urgently, you rush to the bathroom due to your full bladder. Stepping out of bed, a gasp escapes your lips as your foot lands on a cold, damp object. Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s your panties. Blushing, you drop them and shake your head, with your hair still slightly wet from the previous night’s shower.
As you enter the bathroom, you opt for the wall light switch instead of the one on the ceiling, casting a gentle, warm radiance throughout the room. Oblivious to your reflection, you casually stroll past the mirror, too exhausted to spare a second glance.
As you ease yourself onto the toilet seat, your tired eyes gently close, and the tinkling sound of you using the bathroom lulls you into a state of sleep for a brief moment. A few moments pass, and you linger a bit longer before reaching for a flushable wet wipe, dutifully cleansing yourself before discarding it into the swirling abyss of the toilet bowl.
With a swift flush, you rise to your feet and shuffle to the sink to cleanse your hands. However, as you slowly open your drowsy eyes and catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, a sudden chill runs down your spine.
As you gingerly raise your shirt, a gasp escapes your lips. The sight before you is both shocking and unsettling. Crimson and violet bruises, resembling the imprint of a colossal hand, encircle your throat, cascading down to conceal your collarbone and shoulders. As your eyes wander further, a gasp escapes your lips. Vivid handprints, a testament to an intimate encounter, mark your hips in crimson and violet, while a constellation of hickies adorns your tummy.
As you gaze into the mirror, you suddenly catch sight of a man standing behind you, from earlier. Surprisingly, he seems closer than the last time you saw him, and you can feel the warmth of his body through your shirt. He stands tall, with bulging muscles and an overwhelming presence that leaves you breathless. However, his appearance remains a mystery, as you struggle to make out his features. Just then, the bathroom door slams shut, plunging the room into darkness as the lights flicker off. Your heart skips a beat as you feel hands slowly trail up your shirt, eventually cupping your pussy.
His voice is like a warm embrace, wrapping around you with its deep, sensual, sinful, and amused tones.
“I’m not done with you yet.”
#monsterfucker#monster fucker#monster smut#monster headcanons#terato#monster lover#monster nsft#monster x reader#monster x human#monster x you#monster romance#tw monsterfucking#fantasy#female writers#possessive#writeblr#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#female reader#monster imagine#ghost smut#spectrophilia#ghost x reader#supernatural#smut#very nsft#ghost#afab#nsft post#head canon
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Drabbles: Caregiving
Featuring: Astarion, Gale, Halsin, Gortash
Inspiration courtesy of @creativepromptsforwriting
Astarion
To put it lightly, Astarion is a mess after killing Cazador. And who can blame him? After returning to camp, he simply sits and dissociates. His hands tremble. The only solace he finds is when you’re near.
Still covered in blood, you ask his permission to clean him up. He simply nods, his eyes staring at nothing. You grab a damp cloth and begin gently wiping away the dried blood. He leans towards you, hoping your presence itself can protect him from the trauma that keeps surfacing in his mind.
You notice his pants are still stained with blood as well. You gently cradle his face to get his attention.
“Do you need help changing?”
He doesn’t say anything but the look in his eyes is enough to assure he needs help. You lay him down and help him out of his soiled clothes. You quickly grab his night clothes, pulling his shirt over his head and helping him into new bottoms.
After he’s settled, you turn to leave, but his hand shoots out to grab your arm.
“Please stay.” His voice is strained. A deep ache blooms in you.
You sit next to him on his bedroll, cradling him against your chest and whispering soothing thoughts to him for the rest of the night.
Gale
As skilled a wizard as Gale is, he can’t always prevent himself from getting sick. Confined to his tent, you took it upon yourself to care for him.
As you brew some tea for him, he stretches out on his bedroll and watches you work. His heart warms at your worry for him. He really doesn’t deserve the care you’re giving him. He’s sure you have more important things to do.
You pour the tea for him, crouching next to the bedroll. With barely enough energy to move, you have to help him lift his head to take a sip. You gently cradle the back of his head, bringing the warm liquid to his lips.
He takes a small sip before laying his head down again.
He licks the remaining liquid off his lips. “It’s good,” he says. The taste of it sends a comforting warmth through him, mildly numbing the ache settling in his bones.
“I put a little something extra in there for you,” you tell him, winking.
He lets out a breathy laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”
Halsin
Halsin is always the one who wants to care for you. You’ve insisted time and time again to let you pamper him sometime. He works so hard for you, protecting you and making sure you never go to sleep hungry or cold.
After scrounging enough gold to get a room at a nearby inn, you finally force his hand. He’s bathing in the wash room, and you sneak in while he’s scrubbing at his skin.
He looks at you, a smile coming to his face. “Did you want to join me?”
You shake your head. “I was hoping I could wash your hair,” you tell him.
He raises an eyebrow.
“Please?” you insist. “You must be tired.”
His shoulders slouch and he ceases his scrubbing. “Get over here,” he grumbles.
You rush over to sit behind the tub, leaping at the chance to help Halsin relax. You make quick work of wetting his hair, pouring a cleansing mix onto his scalp. Your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, massaging slowly.
“Hmmm, that feels good,” he says, voice low.
You smile, watching as the tenseness leaves his body. “Good. You deserve it.”
He leans his head back, making it easier for you to work your fingers through his long hair.
You can’t help yourself. You lean forward to press a kiss to his neck. He turns to you, a warm smile on his lips.
Your heart melts just like the first time you saw it.
Gortash
You straddle Lord Enver Gortash, his bare back laid before you. Your fingers dig into his tense muscles, earning moans from deep within him. He dearly needed a massage after an especially tiring day of ruling over Baldur’s Gate. The power of having him writhe beneath you is intoxicating.
You lean down and start to press kisses to his lower back, slowly trailing upwards. He growls your name. A warning. You know if you continue to tease him he’s going to flip you onto your back. The thought thrills you.
But you want to work out those big knots in his back first. He deserves to be taken care of before he takes care of you. You continue your work, rocking back and forth on your heels to gain momentum as you dig deep into his flesh.
His moans rumble through your hands. You grin to yourself, looking forward to the moment where he gives you the pleasure you want in return.
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#astarion#astarion imagine#astarion x reader#halsin#halsin imagine#halsin x reader#enver gortash#enver gortash x reader#enver gortash imagine#lord gortash#gortash x reader#gale of waterdeep#gale x reader#Gale imagine
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REUNITING AFTER MEURSAULT
ft. dazai, chuuya, fyodor + f!reader, desc. of blood & injuries, a little suggestive in chuuya’s part, au where fyodor survives wins in his part, s5 e61 & manga spoilers
DAZAI can’t believe he’s finally back home. your living room has never felt so cozy, with all the little pieces of your daily routine scattered around him. the same couch that he once complained was too small for his lanky legs feels heaven sent beneath him. his splinted leg is straightened in front of him, the other bent over the side of the cushions lazily.
he despised his tiny cell in meursault, with its transparent walls and bland food. it was impossible to sleep without you, waking up every hour and reaching over to empty, cold sheets. he only found solace in the messages ango left him ensuring your safety, and he left him secret codes to deliver to you in return.
it was like torture not being able to see you, not being able to touch you. he didn’t even feel the ache in his injured leg when you jumped into his arms when he first arrived home, holding you tighter than ever before. he never wanted to let you go again, but you slipped out of his grasp despite his whines, insisting on making him something homemade to eat after he snuck one last kiss.
even two rooms apart, his eyes never leave you. they trail down the curve of your spine, tracing the slope of your hips and the way they melt into the soft skin of your thighs. he’d yearned for the feeling of your skin beneath his hands every single day he was gone, and all he wants to do now is slide them around your waist. they’d fit perfectly there, like they always do; you were made for him, he swears it.
he thinks you look angelic when you turn towards him, with your pretty face enveloped by wisps of steam from the pan in front of you. a smile curls up on his lips instinctively when your gaze finds his, and he sits up.
“osamu,” you point your wooden spoon at him, spotted with miso and slices of green onion. he freezes, eyes big and blinking. “don’t move. you know you need to rest your leg.”
the cushions sink beneath him as he throws himself backward, a whine slipping through his pouted lips. “but i miss you, bella! i need your love to recover!”
he hears the click of the stove turning off and the soft clatter of you spooning his food out of the pan first, then the quiet steps of your socked feet approaching him. the bowl is hot against his hands when you hand it to him, full of warm, fluffy rice and fried vegetables.
your thigh presses against his as you sit on the edge of the couch. he’s blowing away the steam when you brush his bangs back, and he turns to you curiously. your thumb traces the spot chuuya’s bullet struck him, leaving behind a dull bump and a patch of discolored skin. you lean forward, delicately pressing your lips to the small bruise.
even after all this time, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to how gently you treat him, or the sheer amount of love he can feel through your every action. his palms are warm from the bowl when he cups your cheeks, pouring every part of himself he can into a kiss. you let him tilt your jaw and part your lips with his own, exhaling shakily through your nose.
you bury your head in his neck to ground yourself, breathing in the scent of him; not the smell of stale prison air and blood, but the mix of his body wash, the shampoo he stole from you, and his fresh, sterile bandages. he lets you hold him, even as his food cools against his lap.
“did you know?” you whisper, and he hums against you. “that you’d be come back?”
“no,” you can feel his bittersweet smile against your temple as he presses a kiss there. “not completely. but you trusted me, right?”
“always,” he feels the vibration of the world against his chest. “you just scare me sometimes. i need you, osamu. i can’t do this without you.”
“you won’t ever have to,” he squeezes you tighter against himself, eyes closing as he presses his nose into your hair. “just keep your trust in me. please.”
CHUUYA hated being away from you during the best of times. even a crowded sidewalk is enough for a gloved hand to stay pressed against your lower back, keeping you at his side.
the only place he can be completely certain you’ll be safe is with him on a regular day, and it heightens tenfold when half of his subordinates have turned into vampires. when mori calls him, telling him he’d have to fly out to europe, he stalls by the door to cup your cheeks, looking directly into your eyes.
“promise me something,” he whispers. “don’t open the door. don’t leave. just stay here, and if something goes wrong, you call ane-san. got it?”
“only if you promise to come back to me,” you whisper back. “or i’ll go over there and get you myself.”
he leaves with a desperate squeeze to your waist and a firm kiss goodbye, his promise pressed against your lips. he keeps it faithfully, welcomed home by you rushing into his arms as soon as he opens the door hours later, crying into his chest with a mumbled sob of his name.
“what’s wrong?” he pulls your face up to look at his. even with the smirk curled on his lips, you can see the relief in his eyes that he’s home, with you in his reach. “you didn’t think me and that shitty mackerel would lose, did you?”
“never,” you sniffle. you brush your fingertips through his bangs, holding his face between your palms. he doesn’t mind that your nose is running a little bit when you kiss him. the cool leather from his gloves sinks into your warming skin as he cups the base of your skull, his thumb tracing along the soft cartilage of your ear.
“god, chuuya,” he smells like smoke and metal when you pull back, and you can only imagine what he’s gone through the past few hours. “i was so scared you’d get caught.”
“you know i’m not going anywhere,” he mumbles, thumb stilling against the pulse point of the side of your neck. “no one can take me away from my best girl.”
you tilt your head, tracing the corner of his lips with your fingertip, a small, teasing smile growing on your own. “you kept these on?”
he frowns, tongue poking at the fangs stuck to his teeth. “i can’t get them off. boss used fuckin’ super glue.”
“don’t,” you thread your hand through the long pieces of hair, twirling them through your fingers and pulling them over his shoulder. “you look sexy like this.”
“i do?” he leans closer, until his nose brushes yours, and squeezes your hips, fingertips spreading towards your rear. “what else?”
“we’re going to open the good wineー” you grin, draping your arms around his shoulders.
“my good wine.”
“our good wine,” you giggle, kissing his nose. “because i want to forget this whole shitshow ever happened and show my new vampire boyfriend how hot he is after he saved the world.”
“it was no big deal,” he grumbles, cheeks dusted pink as he looks down at your feet, stroking your hips in small circles. “but if you want to celebrate, then i guess we can.”
you cup his cheeks, peppering kisses all over his face. one to the bridge of his nose, another to the straight edge of his eyebrows, then another on the dip of his cupid’s bow.
“alright, alright,” he cups your jaw, pulling you back to his lips for a proper kiss. “c’mon. show me how much you really missed me.”
when FYODOR reaches to open the hideout door, he uses his right hand out of habit.
he looks at it with disdain as it throbs painfully against the ill-fitting bandages, white cotton heavy with blood and in need of a change. he wasn’t used to pain like this, and he swears he’ll never let himself come to physical harm again. he can’t afford to be so careless.
his eyes fall back to the door. you’re waiting for him behind it, aren’t you? he’d taken every precaution he could think of when he left you. it wasn’t like him to overcompensate, but you seemed to be the exception for everything.
he’d flown through the night to get back to you, and when he twists the doorknob open, he’s met with sunlight from the open blinds. he feels something he can’t explain settle in his stomach at the sight of you, safe and sound, curled in a blanket on the couch, one of his books on your lap. he thought you would’ve loved the starry sky outside of meursault, beautiful and unpolluted, but something about you in the glow of golden hour, coating the room in honey, felt more appropriate for someone as sweet as you.
“fedya?” your voice is still soft with sleepiness, lips trembling around the sweet nickname.
he smiles, but it drops as his vision swims and the room tilts as you dash off the couch and lunge at him. he steadies his wobbly legs as you wrap yourself completely around his lithe torso, his body weakened from blood loss and pure exhaustion.
“hello, my dear,” he kisses the top of your head, inhaling deeply. you smell so much sweeter than the stale air of meursault’s basement, and he catches the lingering scent of black tea in the air. he pets your head with his good hand, letting you bury your face into his chest, even if he wishes you wouldn’t. he didn’t want you to dirty your pretty face on his prison uniform, still damp from dazai’s trick.
when you pull away, your eyes are glassy, drawn to the saturated bandages and their stark contrast against his pale skin.
“oh my god,” he narrows his eyes at your language as you grab his wrist. “fedya, your hand…”
you push him down firmly to take a seat on the couch. closer to his height, you cup his cheeks, looking at him like you can’t believe he’s truly there. you kiss his forehead, lips lingering before you mumble a quiet “i’ll be right back.”
when you return, it’s with a first aid kit and another cup of tea. your eyes water as you unwrap the messy bandages from his hand, taking in the sight of his bloody, marred skin.
“you can’t afford to lose this much blood,” you whisper.
“it’d be ideal if i didn’t lose any blood at all. wouldn’t you agree?” he smiles, but you don’t reciprocate. this close, you look more exhausted than anything else, and he frowns that he didn’t notice sooner; you were worried sick about him, weren’t you?
“what if you died?” you ask, voice breaking around the words.
he cups your cheek with his good hand, thumb brushing beneath your tired eyes. he frowns at the thought of you losing sleep over his return without him being there to soothe you. he can tell you’ve been restless, with the mess of his books scattered around the room, the papers on his desk clearly reorganized and studied over in his absence.
“that’d never happen,” he presses his thumb firmer into your cheek, raising your gaze to meet his. “not yet. i still have to be here for you.”
you re-wrap his hand gently, more gently than anyone else has ever dared to touch him. your fingers are tender as they graze his skin, cotton and ointment cooling against his burns. you tighten it securely, finishing with a press of your lips against the bandages before you cradle it gently in your lap.
his eyes grow heavy, and before he realizes it, he’s falling forward, head landing on your shoulder. he scolds himself again, but it’s different this time. he’s safe here. your lips brush his temple, hands rubbing on his shoulder as you lean back, taking him with you.
“you can rest now,” your voice is soft, and he hadn’t realized how much he missed hearing it. you press a kiss to the crown of his head, exhaling deeply as your lips linger. he feels the kind of warmth you can only get from laying next to another body. your hand trails up the relaxed curve of his shoulder blades until your fingers thread through his hair. “you’re home, fedya.”
BSD MASTERLIST
#💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖#bsd x reader#dazai x reader#chuuya x reader#fyodor x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#bsd x you#dazai x you#chuuya x you#fyodor x you#bsd imagines#bsd fluff#dazai osamu x reader#nakahara chuuya x reader#dazai fluff#chuuya fluff#fyodor fluff
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The Things I Never Said
Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader
Summary: Simon had told you he never wanted to be a dad, so when the inevitable happens you run.
Word Count: 2.2k
Tw: angst, fluff, ooc simon(? descriptions of pregnancy and panic attacks, medical inaccuracies, slightly suggestive but nothing too explicit, this isn't proofread; i think that's it?✨
A/N: omg i couldn't stop thinking about this so i had to write it! I'm just feral for dad!simon loosely connected to this bc this is where the idea came from. Hope y'all enjoy it🫰🏻💛🦄
Masterlist✨| Part 2
You're shaking by the time you're out of the bathrooms. There's no doubt. You think with slight tremble on your lower lip. It almost feels aa of the world around you is closing in. Suffocating your lungs. Your vision blurs, when you toss the pregnancy test in the trash can.
This can't be happening. Not to you.
It's not that you didn't want to have kids.
But Simon didn't.
At this point you're sobbing uncontrollably, gasping for air. It's a good thing no one comes to this part late at night. The only moment you could find peace and solace. Sliding down the wall, hiding your face in your hands. How could you let this happen? You should've been more careful.
Your mind goes back to that day when neither of you cared about the consequences. Caught up in the moment, tearing each other's clothes; eager to be together. You hadn't seen Simon in two months when he was deployed to Serbia and you had to stay behind. Being both in the military meant knowing the risks. Every time could be the last time. You heard things about that specific mission. He got injured. You remember the gnawing fear clawing at your chest. And then there he was, knocking on your door as soon as they landed. His shoulder wrapped around bandages. He kissed you hard, desperately.
Hitting the mattress with you on top of him, not wanting to hurt him anymore. The sweet things he murmured in your ears, hands intertwined as you fall apart together.
You love him.
He cares for you.
But even if he felt slightly the same way about you, it wouldn't be enough.
Simon had... traumas. A tragic story of his own. You heard him talk about it late at night when he couldn't sleep. Those demons that plagued his mind, his dreams... and you listened. That's all you could do.
Offer a hand to the man that had saved you over and over again. And somewhere along the lines you fell.
And you fell hard.
Somewhere between dark nights and shared kisses at dawn.
-
You didn't get any sleep last night.
Your mind is still spinning with the anxiety. The morning sickness that started to disrupt as soon as you woke up. Red, puffy eyes that you try to dissimulate by washing your face hoping it goes away.
You get dressed feeling devastated, knowing that you'll have to face him as soon as you enter the training room. He's in charge. The mere thought makes you want to throw up. But you leave the bedroom nonetheless. Walking down the hallway feeling your hands sweating and your ragged breathing.
When you finally open the doors you're fifteen minutes late. That alone will earn you a punishment.
It's almost as if he feels your presence, immediately finding your form when you enter, his jaw tightens. Simon doesn't like this. But as long as you're under his command you get equal treatment or else, he'd be in problems. Both, would be in problems.
"Bit late Sergeant." He grumbles, emphasizing the last word staring directly in your eyes. Ghost is perceptive and is aware that something is wrong, but doesn't comment on it... yet. "Fifty push-ups. Start sparring when you're done."
You swallow down saliva, feeling your throat constrict.
Fuck, fuck. Don't cry. Not right now.
This whole situation has you sensitive.
You start, concentrating on doing the push-ups. Hearing the distant voice of him echoing around the room, sometimes you think he's closer to where you are then he's gone, but his gaze never leaves you. It's almost sinful how good he looks in that tight green army t-shirt and cargo pants
Your arms are sore and wobbly by the time you finish. Standing up you fight a wave o nausea, closing your eyes so hard you see white dots behind your eyelids.
"You alright?" It's Kyle's hand on your shoulder what brings you back, your eyes fluttering open and find him looking at you, eyebrows slightly raised.
You give him a small smile and a nod.
"Just tired that's all. Didn't get much sleep last night." You divert your gaze where the rest are beginning to spar. "How mad is Ghost?"
Gaz chuckles.
"I wouldn't call that mad. I think he's worried. You look like shite, dear."
"Oh." You say.
Gaz prompts you to the other side to join the training. Everyone's gathered around the training mat. Soap is kicking a soldier's ass. What was his name again? You forgot.
A gentle brush on your skin and then delicate fingers wrap your arm. You freeze, Simon's feather touch sends goosebumps all over your body. You turn your face upward to acknowledge him. His deep blue eyes soften when you look at him.
"Is everything okay Sergeant?" He asks. No. He demands.
You open your mouth and then close it. That's a question you don't know yourself.
I wish. You want to say.
But nothing will ever be okay after last night.
"I... I- didn't get much sleep, Sir. That's all."
Simon sighs but doesn't insist. He just nods, accepting your answer for now, once the training is done he'd talk to you. "You're up." He instructs.
Hand to hand to combat has never been your strongest suit but you do it nonetheless. Informatics on the other hand... you're the best of the best. That's why you're here, why you're a part of the task force.
Ghost stands within your range of vision in a way that you can see that he's there even when you're fighting.
You start although you're not in your best shape. Your heart is racing but not for the adrenaline. Your mind is fuzzy and your stomach churns. The panic is starting to break loose on you. You recognize the signs. You barely dodge the man's punch, this can't be called sparring. You're merely deflecting his hits, defending yourself.
Get a fucking grip!
Soap and Gaz look at each other. Then at Ghost who's clenching his fists, looking like he's about to jump between the two and kill the man. They get ready just in case something goes sideways.
You see his fist coming to your face, you take a step back but it grazes your left cheek. Someone in the distance swears and it's enough to distract you, the next blow goes to your gut. He doesn't even hit you with full force, noticing your lack of response he refrains as much as he can but it connects with your abdomen nevertheless.
It suffocates you. Brings you to your knees spitting saliva and gasping for air. You hear the soldier's frantic apologies. You cough trying to breathe but you just can't. It hurts you.
In a quick move Ghost is kneeling beside you, eyes scanning your body for external injuries. Anything.
"Hey... hey, kid! Look at me!" He orders. You can't, mostly because you're gasping for air, coughing, and the pain in your stomach. Ghost grabs your face seeing the tears collecting in the corner of your eyes. Another wave of nausea hits you and you spit out whatever comes out of your mouth. Simon takes you in his arms lifting you and runs to the infirmary, gritting his teeth. His steps echoing in the empty hallway as he bursts the doors of the med wing open.
-
"Captain..." you greet him as soon as you walk into his office, closing the door behind you with a soft click. Price looks at you, arms crossed. The bucket hat resting on his head. He's dead serious.
"Does he know?" He interrogates with that deep voice of his. It's only been an hour since the incident. Price had to do all in his power to keep Ghost busy. It nearly costs him a limb and a punch to his face. There's only so much he can do.
"No." You murmur, looking down to your feet.
"Jesus, kid." He pinches the bridge of his nose. His head was pounding already. This wasn't good. For any of them. John had decided to turn a blind eye on the situation. As long as it didn't interfere with their duties. Now? He shakes his head. Price walks towards you, the youngest of his team and a valuable asset. You were important to him, to everyone in the 141; to Simon in a very different way. "I'm putting you on medical leave. You must take care of your health, your body. I'll see what I can do, yeah? And for the love of God, talk to Simon."
-
You don't.
And that's because you're terrified. As soon as you left Price's office you ran to your room throwing your belongings in a duffel bag. You needed time to think. Of course you'd tell Simon.
Just not right now.
The disapproving stare of the doctor was enough to make you feel bad about hiding your pregnancy from him and then your Captain. You bite your lip and head out, the taxi driver is waiting already so you hop in, wishing to get some time alone. Clear your head and then find the best way to tell Simon about this.
It's raining outside by the time you're in your apartment. You've had time to get a quick shower and take the ibuprofen for your sore body. Your hands run absentmindedly to your stomach, soothing the skin but flinching when you press too hard. You should've stayed at base and talk to him after what happened.
But you're scared of the outcome.
By this time Simon must've found out you're gone. You won't blame him if he hates you. After all you ran away from him, like a coward.
Pouring some tea on a mug you hear the sound of keys jingle, and the footsteps followed by a large shadow that towers above you. Blond hair and hard eyes contemplating you, the mask is gone...
Holy shit. You think.
The only thing that Simon finds comfort in is gone. There's something about him not hiding behind the balaclava that sets deep in your heart. As if he were baring himself to you. Not that you hadn't seen his face before; that's exactly why this is more meaningful. It's serious. He chose to show you how vulnerable you can make him.
"Why?" His stern voice sends shivers down your spine. "I went to check on you and the first thing they say is that you're gone." His lips are pressed in a thin line.
"Simon, it's not what you're thinking..."
"Then bloody tell me what is it." He seethes, taking a step closer. "Was already losing my fucking mind over that bastard hitting you and suddenly you're gone?" He shakes his head. "Had I known you weren't going to fight back..."
"I'm pregnant." You blurt out, interrupting his talk. Simon's jaw clenched, halting and freezing on his spot. "And I'm sorry I didn't come to you as soon as I found out but I was scared." Your lips quiver and you hold back a sob, but unable to do much about the tears. "I was scared to tell you because I know you never wanted any of this, I failed to you. I couldn't sleep, I was panicking and the thought of losing you... I needed time to figure out how to tell you." Simon is silent, he doesn't move nor blinks. He just stares. Memories of his time with his father flooding his mind. He never wanted kids. That's true.
Seeing you there, in front of him. Choking on your words, crying because you thought he'd abandon you like you were nothing? Bloody fucking Christ it breaks his heart. Very few things had that effect on Simon. He had made you fearful of facing this on your own. Did you think you were just his friend with benefits? Someone he'd come to whenever he wanted to get laid? Hadn't you seen the way his eyes roamed over you whenever you were around? Never fucking heard the despair in his voice when you got shot during that black ops in Afghanistan? How he seemed to loom over your presence if some pathetic muppet tried flirting with you? The nights spent in his bedroom, limbs tangled hearing you speak about your day? The mission when he finally realized he was completely and utterly fucking enamored with you?
That time he wouldn't leave your bedside because you were severely wounded and comatose?
"I am not my old man, kid." He states after a few minutes of silence. "And if it wasn't clear already, I'd do anything for you. I don't know shite about being a parent but I'll try, yeah? For you..." he clears his throat. This was as complicated for him as it was for you. "For both of you, I'll try." The words sound strange coming out of his mouth. You close the space between you and hug him, inhaling his scent. He kisses your temple while rubbing soft circles on your back. Relief washes over your body and the tears stop gradually, until it's just the two holding one another during a raging storm of feelings and nature outside.
Soon the tension, the doubts and the anxiety are replaced with reassurance and loving words.
Promises.
Things you never thought you'd hear.
#call of duty modern warfare 2#cod mwii#cod#cod mw2#cod x reader#call of duty ghost simon riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley imagine#simon ghost riley#cod ghost#cod mw22#fanfic#cod simon ghost riley#cod simon riley#john price#john price x reader#cod konig#soap mactavish x reader#kyle gaz garrick
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ok this one may be a little off putting BUT
Spencer, going out with the bau clubbing and bau!reader is getting absolutely hammered throughout the night bc of em and jj, and eventually it leads to the responsibility of him taking the reader home but the reader is trashed and feels gross so she wants to take a shower and basically begs spencer to get in the shower with her to wash her hair.
love u have a great dayyyyyyy 🤍🦆
Spencer the germaphobe would have never thought he'd have his nails raking through unwashed hair that was not his own. He takes solace in the bubbles frothing at his fingertips, an assurance that he's cleaning your hair, not just spreading the filth from the club through its strands, but it's still several steps to the left of his comfort zone.
If it were anyone else, he would have said a very firm, but kind, no, and he may have gagged as soon as they were out of earshot. But it was you, and you looked at him with your pretty eyes, your pretty sad eyes, your pretty tired eyes, and asked him to please help you clean yourself up before bed, because you'd just washed your sheets and you didn't want to dirty them with the remnants of a night out.
He reasons that designated driver duties included walking you to your door, getting you a glass of water for the morning, and locking your apartment behind him, but he hadn't planned on helping you shower. That he had only agreed to under extreme stress (those pretty, sad, tired eyes he can't stop thinking about) and it's how he finds himself now crouched on the lid of your toilet, scrubbing suds through your hair.
"Thanks, Spence," You groan, feeling his nails rake across your scalp, "I was- I dunno how I was gonna do this without you. I'm dizzy."
It's a concerning observation to be made while cross-legged on the ground and not tired with the effort of standing up, but Spencer reasons that you'll feel better after a night's sleep. A night that he's not sure he can let you spend alone for fear of you choking on your own sick.
You've taken to resting your flushed forehead against Spencer's calf, and it's leaving a soapy stain on his poor excuse for social wear. The only two types of pants that he owns are slacks and pajama pants, and he's not sure he'll be able to properly clean this pair anymore. But he doesn't push you off - in fact, he takes note of the feeling of your touch against his leg.
"I'm cold," You shiver in place, despite the warm water flowing around you, as well as the clothes still on your body, now soaked. Thankfully you'd retained enough of your brainpower to know not to strip in front of Spencer, and he's grateful that he didn't need to enforce the matter.
"You're still dressed," He muses, taking the showerhead and rinsing his hands, then turning it on the mass of bubbles atop your head, "You'll be in pajamas soon."
"M'kay," You accept, even though Spencer can still see goosebumps on your exposed forearms from the cold, "Will you help me change?"
Perhaps you had not retained as much of your brainpower as Spencer thought you had.
"Uh," He stammers, "focused on a patch of suds near the nape of your neck, "Do you think you could- um, do it yourself?"
"I guess. Maybe. I don't know," You laugh at the absurdity of your own statements, "What, you don't wanna see me naked?"
"Y/N!" He gushes, cheeks burning hotter than the water that's pooling around your form on the floor of your shower, "No, I- I mean not while- not now! You're drunk."
"I only got drunk so I'd finally man up and make a move," You grumble against his calf, and Spencer's previously racing heart stops beating altogether, "Just- tell me I said that tomorrow, okay Spence? I'm gonna be pissed at- uh, at me if I forgot."
Spencer agrees with all the niceties that he's learned in dealing with the public, an empty promise falling from his lips when all else fails him, "Okay, I will."
"Liar," You accuse, your nose still nestled snugly against his leg, "This sucks. We're both too scared to make a move. Maybe we should both get shitfaced, and just buy a Plan B the next morning."
Spencer is well and truly speechless. He has several options as to his next response, if he can ever muster up the courage to enact them: an awkward laugh, a strained chuckle, prolonged silence. Instead of choosing any of those he swallows, the action almost hurting his now-dry throat, "Uh- Plan B can interfere with your next menstrual cycle, and there's a host of other side effects that aren't ideal for you."
"Fine." You snort, "We'll keep the baby."
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid one-shot#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid headcanons#spencer reid headcanon#spencer reid hc#spencer reid hcs#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid dialogue#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader fanfiction
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Are your requests open??
I would love to see you where the reader/OFC is a concubine of Paul Atreides. She doesn’t get much attention from him but when she goes in to labor there is a complication and she becomes scared. Paul as the Emperor shows up to help her through the labor and starts developing a positive relationship with her and his child postpartum.
Thank you!! Please keep writing things you have passion for!! ❤️
Bonds Beyond Blood
masterlist ! pairing: Paul Atreides x reader
Dune Masterlist
Y/n lay on the ornate bed, her hand clutching the bedsheets tightly as pain wracked through her body. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her breathing shallow and labored. The midwives moved around her with practiced efficiency, but their words seemed distant, muffled by the intensity of her fear.
Paul Atreides, the Emperor, stood by the doorway, his expression a mask of concern. He had never been one to show much interest in Y/n, his concubine, beyond the duties of his station. But now, as he watched her struggle, something stirred within him.
"Is she going to be alright?" Paul asked the head midwife, his voice betraying a hint of anxiety.
The midwife glanced at him briefly before returning her attention to Y/n. "We are doing everything we can, Your Majesty. But there are complications. The baby's position is not ideal, and Y/n is exhausted."
Paul nodded, his jaw clenched. He couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness that washed over him. This was one situation he couldn't control with his political power or military might.
Y/n's cries filled the room, echoing off the walls of the chamber. Paul felt a pang of guilt deep within him. He had neglected her, taken her presence for granted. But now, seeing her in such agony, he couldn't ignore the bond they shared, however distant it had been.
Without a word, Paul crossed the room and took Y/n's hand in his own. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear and pain.
"Paul..." she gasped, her voice barely a whisper.
"I'm here, Y/n," Paul said softly, his tone soothing. "I won't leave your side."
Y/n squeezed his hand tightly, drawing strength from his presence. Despite their past indifference, she found solace in his touch, in the warmth of his hand against hers.
Minutes stretched into hours as Y/n endured the agonizing pain of labor. Paul remained by her side, offering words of encouragement and support. With each contraction, he whispered words of reassurance, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of her fear.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sound of a baby's cry filled the room. Tears of relief streamed down Y/n's cheeks as she held her newborn child in her arms.
Paul watched, his heart swelling with emotion, as Y/n cradled their child against her chest. In that moment, he felt a connection unlike any he had ever known before. It wasn't just the bond of blood that tied him to this child, but something deeper, something more profound.
"I never knew..." Paul began, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the right words.
Y/n looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears. "Neither did I," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft cries of their child.
In the days that followed, Paul remained by Y/n's side, helping her adjust to motherhood and caring for their newborn child. With each passing day, their bond grew stronger, forged in the fires of adversity and nurtured by the love they shared for their child.
As they sat together in the quiet moments of the night, watching over their sleeping infant, Paul found himself opening up to Y/n in a way he never thought possible. He shared his fears, his hopes, his dreams for the future, laying bare his soul before her.
And in turn, Y/n shared her own hopes and dreams, her fears and insecurities, trusting Paul with her most intimate thoughts and feelings.
In the weeks and months that followed, Paul and Y/n's relationship blossomed into something beautiful and profound. They may have started as mere strangers, bound together by duty and circumstance, but now they were so much more than that.
They were partners, allies, confidants. And as they watched their child grow and thrive, they knew that no matter what the future held, they would face it together, united in love and devotion.
For in the end, it wasn't power or prestige that defined them, but the simple yet profound bond of family. And in that bond, they found the true meaning of happiness and fulfillment.
#paul atreides imagines#paul atreides x reader#paul atreides x female reader#paul atreides x you#paul atreides#paul atreides imagine#dune x you#dune x reader#dune imagines#dune imagine#dune part 2#dune fanfiction#timothee chalamet imagine#timothee chalamet imagines#timothee chalamet#timothee chalamet x you#timothee chalamet x reader
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You’re all I want.
Pairing: Gojo x reader
Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, crack at the end because Gojo copes with humor :")
Content: Gojo comes home after the Shibuya accident and you try your best to ground him back to you.
WC: 1.5k
Satoru steps into your shared home, suddenly feeling the fatigue weighing down on his body. Soft lighting filled the room, courtesy of the gentle glow of the lamps you excitedly asked him to buy.
It was 2 am and he just came home from Shibuya, and after everything that has happened to him, his arms are itching to hold you. He wanted nothing more than to pull you close and let the beating of your heart lull him to sleep.
He lets out an audible sigh of relief when he sees your figure curled up on his side of the bed, you were wearing his sweater. You turn your head to his direction when you hear the door open, “Satoru?” you mumbled sleepily. Then just like always, you stood up to greet your husband.
“Sweetheart,” he smiles at you, his arms instinctively wrapping around your waist. “I bought macaroons from a newly opened cafe in Shibuya, you’d love it.”
He still hasn’t taken off his blindfold, the fabric covering his eyes, putting a visible barrier between you and seeing your husband. He’s putting up his ‘the strongest’ persona so you gently cup his face before taking off his blindfold. “Didn’t I tell you to take off your blindfold when you’re around me?”
He lets out a chuckle and affectionately nudges you, accompanied by a subtle teasing lilt in his voice. “Can’t hide anything from you, Y/N.”
You take into his appearance— how certain parts of his uniform are ripped and stained with dry blood. Then you noticed his eyes, how the bright blue irises bore the weight of exhaustion and you knew immediately that this mission is unlike the usual ones. There was a profound sadness that lingered within the depths of his gaze and your heart aches at the thought of what he must have gone through the past few hours.
“I missed you.” he breathed out, the words hanging in the air like a whispered confession. He said it like the words are scarce, as if he was unsure if he really came back home. “I thought I wasn’t gonna come home tonight. I had to. I promised I would, didn’t I?”
A soft, almost imperceptible smile plays upon Satoru's lips, but the warmth he gives falls short of reflecting in his eyes. Your fingers instinctively find their way into his, gently squeezing his hand. You press your forehead against his, assuring him that he’s safe and you’re real. “I missed you too, Satoru.”
Satoru leans in and pulls you into a gentle and lingering kiss. and you kiss him back eagerly, ardently— so grateful for your husband keeping his promise to you. you sigh into his mouth, and he breathes you in,
You press your forehead against his once you pull away, your fingers tracing his cheek, “Thank you for always coming home to me.”
You are Satoru’s anchor, and you in all your strength, refuse to let him sink.
Usually, you and Satoru have a routine after his missions. You prepare him a proper meal for dinner, knowing full well he isn’t eating anything healthy when you aren’t around to scold him. You listen to him ramble about his students or the sweets he brings home and you tell him all about your day as he munches on the food you prepared. Then after that, you take a relaxing bath together, washing away all of the remnants from his mission, physically and figuratively. Then, you find solace in each others’ arms. You let Satoru hug you all night while you gently run your fingers through his hair. The details might shift depending on the mood but the core remains constant— Satoru’s routine wouldn’t be complete without you in it.
Tonight, you decide to skip the meal part. It was past midnight anyway. “Bath?”
As you prepare for your bath, stepping into the shower, you notice the unusual quietness from Satoru. Typically, he’s constantly talking, excitedly telling you anything that comes to his mind. But today he lets himself be vulnerable around you.
Opening the shower, you invite him in, holding Satoru’s hand as the warmth of the cascading water surrounds the both of you. You take the opportunity to shampoo your husband’s hair, your fingers gently massaging his scalp, having to be on your tiptoes to reach the top of his head. He crouches down a bit to meet you halfway, sneaking a hand to your waist.
“What’s on your mind, ‘Toru?” you break the silence, your fingers continuing massaging his scalp. His eyes avoid yours.
“I just—” He hesitates before he responds, his voice breaking. “I almost got sealed because I got distracted during the fight. Nanami was severely injured and a lot of people died today. We saved a lot of them thanks to my students. I just hope I’ll be able to protect you forever.”
Your heart aches at his raw confessions, the gravity of what he’s endured weighs heavily on you both. You attempt to soothe his pain with all that you can, “It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it right now. I just want to let you know I’m here.”
You took your time lathering his body with soap, caressing with your soft fingers as they tracing patterns on his skin and he allows himself to feel the exhaustion, finding a momentary respite in the gentleness of your touch. With you, he surrendered.
He held onto you in desperation and hugged you tighter. Then he released all of his pent-up emotions, quiet sobs filled the room and you held him through it all, feeling his tears as they mingled with the water streaming down on your shoulder. Your other hand finds tracing comforting circles on his back.
“Hey,” you grab both of his hands and entwine your fingers with his, gazing into his eyes sincerely. “I’m right here, Satoru. We’re alive. I’m safe. You’re safe. Let me carry your burdens with you. ”
Satoru remains silent but the way he’s holding onto you speaks volumes. You’re certain that he’s clutching onto every word that you utter. You delicately wipe away his tears, your touch felt divine on his skin. “We’re jujutsu sorcerers, risking our lives is what we do. That’s why every second that I’m with you matters.” you say gently, offering a small smile.
His eyes, puffy and red, meet yours with gratitude. Then, unexpectedly, he chuckles. “Damn you for ruining my depressing moment. I was deep in my feels.”
There was your Satoru, him and his theatrics.
Once you’ve fully brought back your energetic and joyful husband, your bath session becomes less and less productive as he wouldn’t stop lathering soap, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, on your butt.
You raise an eyebrow at him, “Yes?”
“I’m cleaning it, baby. If anything you should thank me.” He says, feigning innocence. Although his smirk gave him away.
“Really? Just my ass? You’re squeezing it, Satoru!” you squeal, momentarily breaking away from him only to be pulled into his arms once again. You burst into laughter and he giggles in reply, like a motherfucking child.
He exaggerates a groan and sneaks his hand to your butt cheek once more, resting his head on your shoulder. “It’s ‘Toru to you! I’m sad and stressed, let me be. Please let me use it as a stress reliever.” He pulls away to look at your face before wiggling his eyebrows teasingly, “and aren’t you the one who suggested this shower?”
“Because you stink” you mutter under your breath, the words barely audible.
In response, a loud smack resonates around the bathroom.
“Did you just fucking slap my ass?” you exclaim, a mix of surprise and indignation in your voice.
“I absolutely did not.” he declares, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. He hugs you once more, burying his face in the crook of your neck. In your embrace, his pain and burdens dissolve into your arms, leaving only the love you give him. You are all that he wants, all that he can think of and he silently wishes— begs any omnipotent god to allow him to get infinite moments with you.
He pulls away from the hug and cups your cheeks with his hands and you both stare at each other, engraving this moment into your souls, hoping there won't come a time where you’d lose one another.
“I love you, Satoru.” you say sincerely and of course he responds to it without hesitation. “I love you more, Y/N.”
“I love you most, then.” you reply cheekily, grinning.
A pout adorned his face, huffing at your statement. “That’s not fair.” He protests.
Knowing that he’s losing the fight between your silly banter. He attempts to assert his victory. “I love you mostest then!”
“Satoru, we both know that’s incorrect grammar” you point out, playfully rolling your eyes. “I also can’t believe I’m doing this cheesy shit with you.”
“We have been married for a decade, sweetheart.”
God, Satoru loves you so much.
a/n: nanami did NOT die in my mind :D hope u guys enjoyed!
wanna read more?
#gojo x reader#gojo x reader fluff#gojo x reader hurt/comfort#gojo x reader angst#gojo x you#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo oneshot#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x reader flyff#gojo fic#jjk x reader#jjk x reader fluff#jjk x reader hurt/comfort#jjk fanfic#jujustsu kaisen x reader#gojo x reader oneshot#gojo x you oneshot
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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me
Chapter Seventeen-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.
(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)
Tags: 18+, DARK THEMES, Sexual Harassment, Asshole!Berkshire, Extreme Depictions of Violence, Blood, SMUT, PIV, Virgin!Reader, Loss of Virginity, Dom!Mattheo, Sub!Reader, Oral Sex, Multiple Orgasm, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink.
****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.
Emerging from the closet, you and Mattheo shared one more fleetingly charged moment, your eyes locking in a silent exchange laden with unspoken emotions. With a subtle nod, you both returned to your seats, seamlessly slipping back into the roles you had mastered--the poised Ravenclaw and the bad, rebellious Slytherin. The transition was flawless, but beneath the composed exteriors, a storm of emotions raged.
As the game progressed and the night drew on, your eyes locked with Mattheo's from across the circle more times than you could even begin to count--and as the rest of the room remained blissfully unaware, you were acutely attuned to the dance of hidden desires, an intimate connection that thrived in the shadows.
The game of truth or dare continued, growing more wild with each passing round, until most people involved became to tired to continue. In the midst of all of this, Emily and Tom seemed to hit it off, engrossed in their own conversation which seemed to have started before you had even returned from the closet with Mattheo--and as much as the sight was slightly confusing, you were profoundly grateful for the unexpected friendship between them. It undoubtedly relieved the pressure of having to engage with Tom.
As the night wore on, exhaustion settled deep within your bones. Berkshire, thoroughly intoxicated, was gently escorted to his dormitory by Malfoy, his usual disgusting arrogance now replaced by a drunken stumble. Despite the lingering adrenaline from the evening's events, weariness tugged at your limbs, pulling you towards the comfort of your dormitory.
While Emily and Tom remained engrossed in their conversation, you seized the opportunity to excuse yourself quietly. With polite smiles and casual goodnights, you bid farewell to the remaining members of the circle. Each step you took felt heavier than the last, your energy waning with every movement. The echoes of laughter and conversation faded into the distance as you navigated the familiar corridors, the subdued glow of torchlight guiding your way.
Taking a moment to escape the confines of the castle, you stepped into the tranquil courtyard, leaning against the railing and seeking solace under the vast expanse of stars. The night air embraced you, carrying with it a soothing whisper of tranquility. Breathing in deeply, you let the cool breeze wash over you, attempting to shed the lingering tension from your bones after the intense evening you had just endured.
And in the midst of your attempts to find serenity, the peaceful atmosphere shattered like fragile glass, stumbling footsteps making their way toward you. As you glanced over, you watched an inebriated Berkshire stumble his way into the courtyard, bringing himself dangerously close to you, his usual arrogance magnified by the influence of alcohol. His eyes, glazed and unfocused, fixated on you with a disturbing intensity.
"Shit...what do we have here?" he slurred, his words laced with drunken confidence. "A little bird all alone in the night...don't you know it's fuckin' dangerous to be out here all by yourself?"
Your disgust was palpable as you shot him a withering glare. "Save your pathetic lines for someone who cares, Berkshire," you retorted, your voice dripping with disdain. "The only thing dangerous is my dwindling patience at the mere sight of you."
"Why're you such a bitch, huh?" he slurred, his words carrying the stench of alcohol. His proximity was uncomfortably close, his breath hot against your skin. "Must be 'cause you secretly like me, right?"
Your jaw clenched, a mixture of annoyance and disgust bubbling within you. His words were as repugnant as his alcohol-laden breath. The tension you had been trying to relieve was now replaced by a different kind, a sharp pang of frustration at having to deal with his inappropriate behavior.
"I suggest you find your way back to your dorm," you retorted, your voice firm despite the rising irritation. "Your delusions won't make your company any more welcome."
Berkshire's drunken persistence grated on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard, his obnoxious confidence seeming to inflate with every word you uttered. Before you could process it, he closed the distance between you, his movements erratic, invading your personal space. His clammy hand shot up, gripping your jaw with a force that made your teeth clench, forcing your eyes to meet his in a cruel display of dominance.
"Why won't you just admit it, huh?" he slurred, his words punctuated by the reek of alcohol on his breath. His bloodshot eyes bored into yours, his arrogance seemingly impervious to your clear discomfort. "You can't deny the attraction, sweetheart...I see it in the way you look at me when you think no one's watching."
Your patience snapped like a taut rope. Anger flared in your chest, hot and searing. With a swift movement, you pushed his hand away from your face, your voice cutting through the night with icy precision, a steely resolve in your voice that should have been enough to ward off any sane person.
"Let me make this abundantly clear, Berkshire," you said, your tone as sharp as a blade. "There is no secret admiration, no desire, and certainly no fucking attraction. You're nothing more than a nuisance, and I have no patience for your delusions. Now, back the fuck off before you regret testing my tolerance any further."
Despite your unwavering stance, Berkshire's drunken laughter reverberated through the courtyard, a disturbing echo of arrogance undeterred by your resistance. He jeered, taking another step toward you, his movements unsteady but determined. The cold, unforgiving metal of the railing you had been standing in front of pressed into your back as he cornered you, his breath reeking of alcohol and menace.
Panic clawed at your throat, but you refused to show weakness, your eyes meeting his with a defiant glare. "Berkshire, what are you-"
Ignoring your words, he advanced further, backing you up against the railing until there was nowhere left to retreat. Your heart thundered in your chest, the weight of his aggression bearing down on you. And then, in a moment of terror, he grabbed you, his grip surprisingly strong, squeezing tighter than you had ever expected. Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers dug into your arms, pain flaring through your limbs. The situation had escalated far beyond your control, and the realization struck you like a physical blow.
"Let me go," you demanded, your voice strained but resolute, despite the fear tightening your throat. But Berkshire only tightened his grip, his fingers digging into your skin, his drunken gaze wild and unpredictable. "Enzo, fuck, stop..."
"Shut the fuck up," he growled, he breath grazing over your neck as he pressed himself against you. "You're such a fucking-"
Before Berkshire could finish that sentence, a familiar voice--one usually somewhat smooth and composed, cut through the air with a terrifying intensity.
"Berkshire…if you don't get your fucking hands off of her," the threat in his tone was unmistakable, a promise of unspeakable consequences if ignored. "I fucking swear-"
But Berkshire, lost in his drunken rage, remained heedless, his eyes glazed over with a dangerous mixture of anger and entitlement. “Shut up, Riddle…she fucking wants me…”
You caught Mattheo's eyes from over Enzo's shoulder, ones that once held a glimmer of restraint now blazed with an uncontrollable anger that seemed to ignite the air around him. His usual composure shattered, replaced by a raw, primal fury.
In a heartbeat, Mattheo closed the distance between him and Berkshire, his movements fluid and almost supernatural. His hand shot out like a striking serpent, fingers wrapping around Berkshire's throat like an unyielding vice. The grip was tight, a clear message of the danger Berkshire was in.
“I warned you,” he hissed, and with a swift, powerful motion, Mattheo ripped Berkshire off of you, sending him crashing onto the unforgiving stone ground, a stunned gasp escaping his lips upon impact--Mattheo’s throat was shredded with anger as he growled, “I fucking warned you…”
You stood frozen, your lungs burning as you desperately gasped for air, your vision swimming with a heady mix of fear and relief. Mattheo, his eyes ablaze with fury, descended upon Berkshire like a vengeful deity. His arm darted out, fingers clenching Berkshire's collar in one hand while the other transformed into a merciless fist.
“Stay the fuck away from her…you don’t fucking look at her, you don’t even fucking breathe near her…do you fucking understand me?” Mattheo didn’t wait for a response, the first punch landing with a sickening crack, the sound reverberating through the courtyard like a thunderclap. Mattheo jostled Enzo in his grip, practically spitting his words against his face. “No one gets to fucking touch her…no one except me…fucking no one…”
A momentary pause hung in the air, a fleeting heartbeat of stillness, before Mattheo struck again. And again. And again. He was possessed, every punch a release of the pent-up rage that had been simmering beneath the surface, each blow fueled by a primal instinct to protect, to defend, to punish the one who dared to harm you.
Berkshire's face transformed into a grotesque mask of crimson, his features distorted by pain and fear. The courtyard seemed to pulse with the rhythm of Mattheo's anger, the sound of his blows drowned out by the rapid thudding of your heart--and it wasn't until Draco Malfoy, his normally composed demeanor replaced by wide-eyed shock, entered the fray, that Mattheo's onslaught finally came to a halt.
Malfoy, his strength surprising for someone so slender, managed to pull Mattheo off Berkshire, the latter struggling like a wild animal, his rage still burning brightly, his chest heaving with exasperated fury.
"What the fuck happened here?" Theodore dropped to his knees next to his fallen friend, a mixture of concern and disbelief etched on his features as he met your stunned eyes. "Are you okay?"
"I..." you stammered, your voice barely audible, your mind struggling to comprehend the violence that had just unfolded before you. The shock had rendered you speechless, your throat dry and constricted, words caught in the whirlwind of your emotions. "Yes...I'm okay..."
While you attempted to spit out words, Mattheo's heaving form, still seething with raw anger, ripped himself free from Malfoy's hold. With a voice that carried the weight of his fury, he spoke on your behalf, the words sharp and cutting through the air.
"Berkshire thought he could lay his fucking hands on her is what happened," his voice was cold, each word laced with contempt. "After I warned him...I warned him how many fucking times..."
Mattheo's aura, once magnetic and enticing, was now a tempest, an embodiment of wrath that crackled in the air around him. The atmosphere seemed to vibrate with his intensity, as if the very stones beneath your feet could feel his fury. It was a chilling reminder, mostly to you, that beneath the composed facade, there was a force to be reckoned with, a protector who would stop at nothing to shield you from harm--and that thought did inexplicable, disgustingly shameless things to your fucking body.
Draco Malfoy, his usual cool composure momentarily shaken, stepped away from Mattheo, his eyes assessing the situation with a discerning gaze.
"Let's get him to the hospital wing," he suggested to Theodore, his voice cutting through the tension. Nott, too, recognized the need for immediate action, nodding in agreement, before briefly meeting your eyes. "I'm sorry about him...there's no way he hasn't learned his lesson now...fuckin' sorry little prat..."
You nodded in response as the two of them lifted Berkshire, supporting his battered form between them. As they glanced between you and Mattheo, it was as though a silent understanding passed between Draco and Nott. Their glances met, a knowing look shared, acknowledging that there was something more beneath the surface of this situation. They sensed the unspoken connection, the invisible thread that bound you and Mattheo together, but they chose not to pry. Instead, they respected the unspoken boundaries, allowing the complexities of your relationships to remain your own.
Meanwhile, Mattheo turned his attention back to you, his eyes a tumultuous blend of emotions, the storm within him slowly subsiding as he registered the shock lingering in your eyes. With a soft yet determined expression, he stepped closer, his presence becoming a comforting shield against the aftermath of the confrontation that had left both of you shaken.
"Raven, I'm so fucking-" he began, his voice thick with regret and unspoken apologies.
"I'm fine, Mattheo." You cut him off, your heart pounding in your chest, the sight of his breathless, bloodied and dishevelled form doing dangerous things to your cunt--and you knew, more than anything, you just wanted to be alone with him. "Please just take me back to your dorm."
His brows furrowed in confusion, but the desperation in your eyes didn't leave room for questions.
"What-" he started to inquire, but you took a step closer, your neck arching slightly to catch his dark, penetrating gaze.
"Take me back to your dorm," you repeated. "Please."
Upon hearing the raw desperation in your voice, Mattheo nodded, his fingers gently finding yours as he immediately led you down the hall and through the empty corridor to his dorm. The moment he pushed the door open, allowing you to step inside, it felt as though the temperature in the room had increased to a million bloody degrees. The air was thick with unspoken tension, a potent mix of fear, desire, and the undeniable pull that had always existed between you, intensified now by the events of the night.
As you cautiously stepped into his dorm, your eyes were drawn to the familiar sight of the astronomy book lying open on his desk. The memory of the last time you had been in his dorm flashed in your mind--the same book, sitting untouched on his desk, an odd object in the midst of his carefully curated chaos.
"Why do you still have this out?" you questioned, your voice laced with curiosity and a hint of suspicion.
The question hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications. Mattheo hesitated, his stormy eyes locking onto yours in a moment of vulnerability.
"Can't a man indulge in the mysteries of the stars whenever he fancies?" he retorted with a smirk, attempting to deflect the gravity of the situation. His voice carried a hint of playfulness, but the tension beneath the surface was palpable. "Or perhaps stargazing is an art reserved solely for beautiful little ravens, hm?"
"Is it because of me?" Your stare bore into him, a mix of curiosity and suspicion flickering in your eyes. “Is it because of me that you have this book?”
He didn't deny it; instead, after a long, silent moment, he simply nodded, almost impenetrably, his gaze never leaving yours. It was a silent admission, a confession that hung heavy in the charged atmosphere of the room. In that moment, the undeniable pull between you became almost tangible, the invisible thread connecting your hearts growing stronger, defying the boundaries you had desperately tried to impose.
You stepped toward him. "Did you miss me, Mattheo..."
Mattheo met your gaze, his expression enigmatic yet stoic, a mask of his usual arrogance and charm slipping back into place. His silence lingered for a moment, the air thick with unspoken tension.
Then, in a voice that held a depth of emotion he was trying to conceal, he replied, "Maybe I did, Raven..."
You moved closer, the air crackling with need as you closed the distance, your heart pounding in your chest. When you finally stood before him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, you dared to reach out, your fingers brushing against his cheek. His skin was warm, and beneath your touch, you could sense the subtle tremor that betrayed the restraint he was exercising. Your breath caught in your throat as you tilted your head, your lips hovering just millimeters from his.
"Don't be shy, Mattheo..." you murmured, teasing him with your fingers as you trailed over his jawline. "Why don't you show me how much you missed me..."
Mattheo's jaw clenched under your touch, his dark eyes smoldering with an intensity that matched the simmering desire between you. You sighed when his hands, strong and possessive, found their way to your hips, pulling you closer with a magnetic force that left you breathless. His restraint wavered, the barrier between temptation and surrender growing thinner by the second.
"Salazar fucking save me..." Mattheo's voice was a raspy whisper, a plea and a challenge rolled into one, his vulnerability veiled behind a facade of arrogance. "Who the hell are you..."
You leaned in, your lips hovering dangerously close to his, your eyes locking onto his with a daring intensity.
"Sorry to break it to you, Riddle," you purred, your voice a seductive melody that echoed in the charged space between you. "But I'm afraid not even your maker could save you now..." a teasing smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your breath mingling with his. "Better start counting your blessings..."
"Blessings, huh?" Mattheo's lips curved into a half-smirk, his voice low and dangerous, sending a shiver down your spine. "I'd much rather count the seconds until I can taste those sweet fucking lips of yours..."
His words sent a jolt of desire through you, your heart pounding in response to his brazen confidence.
"Gods, you really are a changed man, aren't you?" You murmured, fighting your smirk as his fingers tightened their grip on your hips. "You were never one to wait for permission before..."
"Raven," his voice was a low, raspy whisper, the intensity in his eyes burning brighter. "You're really testing my fucking patience here...and you should know I'm not a patient man..."
Your smirk grew, heat flushing your cheeks, your fingers tracing a tantalizing path along the underside of his jawline, now, teasingly slow.
"Maybe I enjoy testing your limits…maybe I want to see how far I can push you..." you muttered, your voice laced with playful defiance. "Or perhaps I just like watching you squirm, Riddle...perhaps I want to hear you beg for me..."
Mattheo's patience snapped like a taut wire, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of exasperation and desire.
"Look at you, huh...all fucking smug..." he growled, his voice edged with playful frustration as he peered down at you. "You've kept that pussy from me for over two fucking weeks and now you want to tease me like this? Did you forget how bloody fast I can make you crumble for me..."
Your defiant facade began to crack under the intensity of his gaze, a shiver running down your spine.
"Gods, maybe I did..." your voice barely above a whisper, the defiance replaced by a flicker of vulnerability. "Maybe I need you to remind me..."
"Shit...there she is...there's my good fucking girl..." he murmured, his tone a mixture of reverence and desire. "...tell me what you want, Raven..."
A sigh of satisfaction slipped past your lips as his hands tightened their grip, his touch searing into your hips as though he was trying to hang on to his last shreds of willpower. With a trembling voice, you met his dark, penetrating eyes, wetting your lips as you let yourself drown in their depths.
"You," you whispered, your voice a husky admission. "I want you."
He exhaled. "Then fucking have me."
In a whirlwind of desire, his lips crashed onto yours, sending your senses into a frenzy. Your eyelids fluttered shut as both of you inhaled sharply through your noses, trying to catch your breath amidst the electrifying kiss. His hands, strong and possessive, tangled in your hair, pulling you closer with an urgency that matched the racing beat of your heart. Your lips parted in a soft groan of surrender, inviting him in, and his tongue slipped between your teeth with a hunger that bordered on desperation.
His lips moved over yours, claiming every inch as though he needed you to survive, and your fingers found solace in the dark waves of his hair, gripping them tightly. Mattheo responded with a primal sound, a low grunt of satisfaction that resonated between your entwined bodies. With a swift motion, he spun you around, his lips never leaving yours, walking you backwards until the backs of your knees met the edge of his bed. The kiss deepened, his mouth exploring yours with a deliberate slowness, his fingers continuing their sensual dance through your hair, pulling you impossibly closer, melting the space between you.
Mattheo's tongue danced a tantalizing dance inside your mouth before he withdrew, leaving a lingering connection between your lips. In that moment, silence enveloped both of you, rendering you nearly motionless, lost in a whirlwind of emotions, unsure of what to say, think, or do. You felt the undeniable hardness of his arousal pressing against your belly, causing a flicker of anticipation to ignite within you. Your hands instinctively moved towards the hem of your shirt, but he halted you with a gaze as hard as stone.
"No," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Let me."
A flush of scarlet painted your cheeks, but you nodded in silent consent, your throat tight with anticipation. His fingers bunched the fabric of your shirt, lifting it up and off of you. As you raised your arms, granting him permission to undress you further, he completed his task with deliberate care. The fabric landed on the floor with a soft rustle, discarded and forgotten, while his eyes roamed over every newly exposed expanse of your skin.
It was a ritual you knew you’d never tired of, the way he looked at your body as if it was a masterpiece, a gift he hadn't been prepared to receive.
Under the intensity of his gaze, a cascade of warmth flooded through you, your skin tingling with awareness. His hands skillfully moved behind you, unclasping your bra with practiced ease. He pushed it off your shoulders, the fabric gliding down your arms, his fingers skimming over the surface of your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours in a silent question, before gracefully sinking to his knees in front of you. His warm breath ghosted over your belly, holding your stare as to ask for permission before he hooked his thumbs under the rim of your pants and panties, peeling them down your thighs, revealing your sensitive sex to him--inch by torturous inch.
A shiver rippled through your nerves, sending a thrill down your spine as his molten-gold eyes held yours with hunger that seemed to consume everything in its path. His gaze didn't waver for a single moment, even as he expertly removed your shoes and tossed them aside carelessly. As he rose, his palms trailed over the contours of every curve, his touch igniting a trail of electric sensations in their wake. He towered over you, a commanding presence that left you breathless, and one of his hands delicately cupped your face, his thumb tracing the outline of your lower lip with a gentle intensity that sent your heart racing.
"Lie back," he murmured.
Your fingers quivered with anticipation as you nodded, succumbing to the electric tension in the air. Slowly, you eased yourself back onto the mattress, adjusting your position so you could lie flat against the soft bedding.
Mattheo prowled around the perimeter of the bed, his intense gaze scorching your skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Each step he took seemed deliberate, his movements exuding a raw, primal energy. After a moment, he paused, his fingers deftly working on the buttons of his bloodied dress-shirt. With a fluid motion, he peeled off the fabric, revealing the chiseled contours of his chest. His pants followed suit, dropping to the floor until he stood before you in just his boxers.
From this angle, the sight of him made your cheeks flush and your breath hitch in your throat. The raw masculinity and confidence he exuded was both breathtaking and overwhelming, leaving you yearning for more as he loomed over the bed, the outline of his throbbing cock straining the fabric of his boxers doing unspeakable things to your body--the sight of it against the background of hard, tense muscle made you clench, and you bit your lip to hide a moan that was sneaking its way out of your mouth.
And even though you knew he noticed, he said nothing, even as his knee dropped into the mattress, even as he shifted, crawling over you, until he hovered above you, looking more fucking angelic than he ever had before, looking like a man filled with devotion, passion and need.
"Mattheo..." fear was mixing with the pull of lust. You'd never seen him like this. "Matty, I--"
"Shh," he said, pushing a strand of hair away from your temple. "Relax for me, princess..."
You drew in a shaky breath, and nodded--and his lips pressed into yours, plush and wet, before he moved, leading a tingling line of kisses down your cheek, to your jawline, to your neck. Leaning in, he caressed your throat with his warm mouth and you gasped, back arcing into him. In response, Mattheo purred, laying layer after layer of soft, wet marks on your sensitive flesh. One large hand slid down your arm while he kissed his way to your breast, nuzzling his cheek into the valley of your chest before drawing a nipple between his lips.
A cry escaped you, your hips bucking into his abdomen. "Oh, Gods..."
"Shh," he said again. "Relax, angel..."
The nickname he called only made you want to writhe more. Your mind internally fucking screaming with need. Taking a deep breath, you nodded anyway.
"My angel," he repeated, planting slow, soft kisses on your stiffening bud. "My fucking sweet little angel..."
He took your nipple into his mouth again, moaning while he suckled it swollen, his hands painting pleasure on your swathes of naked, aching skin. You whimpered, nibbling on your lip to silence any sound, hands slowly slithering their way through his messy, yet beautiful fucking hair. As you tightened your grip on his strands, a groan slipped past his teeth, and he flicked the tip of your peak with his tongue before releasing it, mouth making a hot trail along your navel, his hands massaging up and down the outside of your thighs.
"You're doing so well," he whispered into your stomach. "You're so fucking beautiful..."
"Matty..." you whined, his words creating a storm of bliss in your chest. You didn't know what else to say.
"Keep being good for me..." he kissed his way to the mound of your pussy, holding a rumble in his chest as his lips grazed the top of your slit. "Are you ready?"
Are you ready? He just fucking asked if you were ready. As you gazed at him, his pink lips glistening with saliva, eyes smoldering with desire, the answer became crystal clear.
"Yes," you said. "Yes, I'm ready."
Without further hesitation, Mattheo lowered his head between your legs, your entire body jolting in pleasure as he licked a broad, flat band up your sex, feeling your fingers twirling in the curls of his hair. His mouth was hot and eager as he showered your folds with deep, heavy kisses, sending shivers of delight throughout your entire being. Mattheo's hands held your thighs in place as he slicked his strong tongue in between your slit, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your core. Your eyes were fixed upon him, unable to look away from the sight of him worshipping your cunt with his mouth.
"You taste incredible," he cooed, leaving soft kisses along the crease of your thighs. "You know that I thought about this little pussy everyday, don't you?"
Your breath hitched. "Y-you did?"
"Mmhm."
He returned to working his tongue along your inner-folds, gathering your juices along the tip, humming while he swallowed--he was deliberate, taking his time to memorize every bit of your pussy, to draw as much cum from your core as he could. You whined, your clit desperate for attention.
"Matty..." you pleaded, "please..."
Mattheo's gaze met yours as he hummed, sealing his lips around your swollen nub. The intensity of the pleasure collided into you, causing a wracking sob to escape your lips as your eyes closed in ecstasy. His grip tightened on your thighs, tugging you closer to his face. As he sucked on your clit, he gradually built up the pressure, block by block, pushing you towards the peak of orgasm.
Your hips relentlessly rolled into him, urgent moans filling the air as you fell further and further toward overwhelming bliss. "Fuck, Mattheo...Gods..."
His hands left your thighs, exploring your body, gripping and kneading any inch of flesh they could find, until they finally rested on your breasts, thumbs tracing small, gentle circles on your hardened nipples.
"Oh, fuck," you said, "fuck, fuck..."
As the intensity of your pleasure peaked, any words leaving your lips devolved into incoherent wailing. You teetered on the edge, straining against a wall of unrelenting bliss that threatened to overtake you completely. Then, with two hard sucks, Mattheo eased you over, drawing out your climax long and slow against his mouth. Ecstasy consumed you, numbing your skin as your limbs shook and trembled. Every sensation was intensified as he pulled you through wave after wave of pleasure, groaning as your juices coated his lips, your core throbbing and pulsing at his chin.
It felt like an eternity before he finally released you, dragging his tongue up the top of your slit as he panted and gasped for breath alongside you. The aftermath of your intense orgasm left both of you struggling to regain your senses.
Your head rolled along the mattress, lids fluttering open, hands petting at his hair. "Fuck, Mattheo...that was..."
"Shh." He licked his lips, gaze liquefying your center, and returned his focus to your belly, kissing a steady path to your sternum, his hands still stroking at your skin. "I need you to know how much I missed everything...and I mean fucking everything..."
"Oh," was all that left your mouth, teeth pinching your lip when it began to tremble.
"From your perfect fucking tits to your filthy little mouth..." one hand started to palm at your breast, the other still gliding up your side as he inched forward. "From those delicious fucking thighs to that pretty little pussy..." he was at your neck, now, rasping into it, the heat of his body enveloping you. "Every inch of you is fucking perfect...fuck the drugs Raven, you are my insatiable goddamn addiction..."
Every syllable that escaped his lips seemed to caress your very soul, igniting a wildfire of longing within you. His words were like a spell, weaving around your heart and wrapping you in a cocoon of desire. You craved him in a way that transcended the physical, a hunger that went bone-deep. It wasn't just the touch of his skin against yours that you yearned for; it was the merging of your essence, the melding of your souls into an ethereal dance of passion. You wanted to dissolve the boundaries between you, to lose yourselves in a realm crafted solely for your bodies, where every touch and sigh was a symphony of fervor.
And as you met his gaze, there it was, in his eyes--an unnamed emotion that pulsed between you, an unspoken truth that bound you together in a way words could never encapsulate. It was a force beyond reason, an irresistible pull that drew you closer, time after fucking time again.
"You once called me a plague but fuck...you have no fucking idea..." his voice, raw with desire, clawed its way out of his throat. "I haven't even fucked you, Raven...how the fuck have you done this to me?"
Your heart skipped a beat, fingers instinctively curling in his hair. "Do you want to?..."
Mattheo hesitated, as if time itself hung suspended. His eyes searched your face, seeking the truth in your words, and then, he answered, his voice a low rasp,
"Of course I do..." he breathed. "But after what happened tonight-"
"No," you cut him off, your body moving restlessly beneath his. "After what happened tonight, I only want you more...I've never fucking wanted you so fucking badly, Mattheo...it was you who defended me, not Tom, not Zabini, you...it's always been you..."
Mattheo's jaw tensed, his eyes darkening, his chest heaving. "You want me to fuck you..." he said, as though he was trying to make himself believe it. "You want me to take your virginity..."
You nodded, a silent confirmation of your desire, but Mattheo's fingers found their way to your jaw, his touch surprisingly gentle, yet firm. He held your gaze, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation, any uncertainty.
"Say it, Raven," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "You know I need to hear you say it. Tell me you want me to take your virginity."
Your breath caught in your throat, his proximity overwhelming your senses. With a shaky inhale, you met his intense gaze, your voice coming out as a mere whisper, "I want you to take my virginity, Mattheo."
"Fucking hell..." he breathed, the desire in his tone making your core scream. "You know that means-"
"I'm yours." You cut him off. "Even though all of this could fuck up my entire future, I don't care...I'm yours...I submit my sanity to the disaster that is sneaking around with you, Mattheo...I don't want the safe option, I don't want soft or subtle...I want dangerous, I want messy, I want sins...I fucking want you..."
"Salazar fucking save me..." he breathed after a long moment of staring at you, shifting himself to pull down his boxers, his throbbing cock springing free, smacking against his belly. "You really are a little fucking devil..."
You clenched at the sight of his dick, head glistening with precum, twitching insistently as he shifted, looping an arm under your neck and cradling your head, his face nestling into your neck while his other hand directed the head of his dick against your wet folds, slicking itself along your wetness, your entire body tensing at the foreign sensation.
He was so fucking big...you weren't sure if, "are you even going to fit...you're so fucking-"
"Shh, Raven." Mattheo huffed against your neck, angling back to meet your eyes, that devilish smirk plastered across his lips. "I'll make it fit."
At his words, you clenched again, unable to deny the intoxication of his primal arrogance, his eyes fixed on your face as he angled himself at your core now, the anticipation radiating off of him only fuelling your hunger, sending thrills through every inch of your body.
"Relax," he breathed, eyes boring into yours, the hand behind your head keeping you in place. "And look at me...I want you looking into my fucking eyes as you feel yourself stretching out for me..."
With a nod, you held his stare, and slowly, deliberately, he pushed himself inside of you, inch by inch, letting you gasp and wince while his thick length stretched you open, until he was fully sheathed within your tightness. The sensation was overwhelming, stretching you to your limit, beyond anything you ever thought possible, and Mattheo only seemed to grow harder with each gasp that left your lips. With him completely seated inside of your cunt, you felt him pulsing at the hilt, felt his already urgent need to cum inside of you. But instead of moving right away, he jerked you closer to his chest, his lips softly grazing yours as he brought his hand to cup your jaw.
"Are you okay?" His voice was torn, shredded, nearly unrecognizable.
You nodded, holding his eyes. "I'm okay."
"Shit, Raven..." a deep groan left his chest as he exhaled, pulling out and plunging back in as slowly and carefully as he had the first time. "You're so fucking tight...fuck..."
You mewled--between the passion in your chest and the newfound sensations between your legs, your head was spinning, something was close to bursting. His skin was so hot against you, and you gripped him tighter, another moan leaving your chest, chin shaking beyond your control, the pleasure and pain commingling in your mind as you surrendered to his skilled touch--Mattheo stared at you through it all with gleaming eyes before he smothered your lips with a kiss, burning and short.
"Is this what you wanted?" The low thunder of his voice melted in your ears, and he murmured your name. "Tell me..."
Your fingers dug into his skin, your voice torn between gasps. "Yes, Mattheo..." you mewled. "It's all I've wanted."
He leaned forward, lips feathersoft on yours, kissing you, still easing his cock into you with careful rolls of his hips. The grip at your head soothed your scalp--and you could feel it, could feel yourself blending with his body as he pushed deeper and deeper inside of you, could feel your pulses pounding in pace, could feel the unspoken, intangible harmony coiling in your blood.
"Who else can make you feel like this, hm?" His embrace constricted you, now, stilling you while he rocked deep into you, stuffing you full, his free hand travelling down your belly, grazing over your clit--and you choked, whimpered, limp in his arms. "Tell me who this tight little pussy fucking belongs to..."
The pleasure was overwhelming, earth shattering, entirely all encompassing. Your lids fluttered, your brain spinning. "Oh, Gods...oh my fucking-"
"Look at me, Raven..." he ordered, voice torn. "Look at me or I'll stop."
Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, nails biting into his skin, heart pounding in your throat as you felt your sanity dangerously fucking close to shattering, your entire body encompassed in a pleasure that you've never known, a pleasure that only Mattheo fucking Riddle could give you, one that burns you from the inside out, one that shatters every inch of your resolve, leaving you bare before him.
"Tell me..." he whispered, his fingers twirling your clit. You could tell he was close, too. "Fuck...fucking say it…”
"You," you mewled, lost in the melted chocolate swirls of his irises. "It fucking belongs to you, Mattheo...fuck...only you..."
"Shit..." he groaned your name, sucking at your shoulder, tongue leaving hot lines on your neck. "You love being dirty for me..." his fingers whirled your clit faster. "You love being my nasty little slut, don't you?"
"Yes, yes, Mattheo..." you wailed, body trembling beneath him. "I love it..."
"Fuck--" A feral kiss bruised your lips, his cock splitting you with long thrusts. "That's it..." he muttered your name against your mouth. "Cum--cum for me, let me feel you..."
You shattered. "Gods--Matty! Fuck..."
Euphoria rended you wide, tearing at the seams of your sanity, and you fractured, convulsing with the sheer strength of your climax. Your walls spasmed around his dick, milking him hard, and Mattheo held you, mouth meeting yours as he came, hips hitting you with every rush of rapture as he quickly followed after you, spilling his release inside your cunt. This seemed to last for minutes, the aftershocks of bliss rippling through your bodies at once while you remained there catching breath, still connected.
You were wilted, spent, a collection of skin and cum and sweat, and when Mattheo finally pulled out, he slumped down on the mattress beside you, pulling you back into his chest, nothing but the collective sounds of your exhausted panting filling the air, neither of you willing to move even though you knew you couldn't stay here all night--but your drooping lids didn't care, your body succumbing to slumber without giving you a choice.
And as you drifted off, you couldn’t help but question how a boy who once had been the bane of your fucking existence, had now become the centre of it.
———————-
Find eighteen here->
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༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader
13 — THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS BAD THOUGHTS, ONLY YOUR ACTIONS TALK
featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)
warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence
series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad. fanfic playlist.
<- previous part | next part ->
You’d, somehow, forgotten just how… vibrant two of your oldest friends were.
With the blades of the helicopter still spinning, the deafening sound of aircrafts around you, and a steady mist of rain, your body collides with another.
“Oi, watch it!” You exclaim, a beaming smile stretched over your features as the bulky, oblivious man squeezes his arms around your torso and buries his head into your neck. “You smell like gunpowder. And your fiancée.”
His voice comes out muffled against your skin. “And you smell like cheap body wash.”
He squeezes you once more before finally letting you go, his dimples deep and hair soggy with rain. You study his features, the sharpness of his jaw and the dusting of brunette against it. Him. One of your oldest friends in the military.
He looses a breath, eyes meeting yours and his hands falling to your shoulders, a comforting weight. You don’t have any words, can’t find them, so all that leaves your lips is a single name.
“Alex,” you whisper, voice breaking in the middle, heart a sore throb in your chest.
The storm clouds above paint the world around you in harsh greys and physical manifestations of sadness – but in it all, your light has arrived.
And how powerful it is.
“Moonflower!” A deeply familiar, feminine voice shouts, and you spread your arms wide and accept the body that crashes against your own. Your laugh is startled and pure, but relief and serotonin floods your system as warm as the embrace you’re surrounded in.
You’d found solace and even a home in your solitude, your loneliness, but now?
Now, with the only two people in your life that have remained by your side, no matter the distance, holding you in their embrace?
It feels like family, even if you know there isn’t a space between the two of them for you to fit in – no crevice large enough for you to ever comfortably merge.
A foster family, maybe. Or a found one, however tenuous and distant.
“I missed you both so much,” you murmur, voice cracking slightly. You clear your throat, inhaling a trembling breath as you squeeze your eyes shut and rest your face in the crook of her neck. She smells of an odd mixture of her usual perfume, and Alex’s cologne.
You wonder if you’ll still have enough limbs attached to get to their wedding, by the time everything has been dealt with.
If you’ll even have a head attached.
It’s a small eternity (or maybe a few seconds, or maybe a few years) until she pulls away, a glint in her eyes that seems a concoction of pity and strength.
“You look stunning, Farah,” you grin, and your cheeks burn with the odd sensation of joy.
She crinkles her nose, dark stray hairs flying across her face from the continuing wind of both winter and the helicopter. Her skin glows with health – and you realise, then, how even with the stress of reconstructing a nation, she’s happy. Honest and unrepentant and golden. A survivor of war, but a survivor nonetheless.
Raising a brow, she returns, “You look like shit.”
A chuckle leaves your throat, the familiarity that is Farah’s honesty akin to a hot chocolate and a blanket wrapped around a freezing frame.
“You look like you’ve been injured,” Alex adds, a small wince gracing his features. He’s miraculously found himself once more at Farah’s side, not unlike a loyal guard dog.
A guard dog guarding a lion, maybe, but a guard dog nonetheless.
“Unlike you two,” you chastise, folding your arms and burying your cold hands in the space between your bicep and breasts, “I’m at war.”
“With the guy we warned you about,” Farah raises her brow, voice acidic and biting. “The guy we told you was going to ruin your life?”
“There’s a difference between ruining my life, and quite literally ruining my life,” you counter, watching a cloud of breath hang in the air, chilled by the evening cold, before dissipating into the breeze.
“He can continue ruining your life inside,” Alex cuts in, a hand falling against the dip of Farah’s spine, and the other moving to rest between your shoulder blades. He applies just enough pressure to be convincing, but not demanding.
It may as well be a demand, however, with how weak your mindscape seems to be in the face of comfort and familiarity.
The base seems small, even with the short distance, a reminder of how self-contained and cataclysmic your life has become (has always been). It’s well past eight, now, and with the winter hours it’s almost pitch black already. A few stars decorate the black landscape, this far out from most light pollution. Your eyes stray to the glistening balls of flame, and you wonder if someday soon you’ll find yourself amongst them.
Two duffel bags hang off of Alex’s shoulder, and it sparks your interest.
“How long are you two planning to stay?” You ask, as if they’re merely old friends staying for a weekend, catching up over bottles of wine and damaged decks of cards.
They both shrug, almost in sync. Your heart thunders in your chest at the small display of how attuned they are with each other – how in love. It’s Farah who answers, simply, “However long it will take.”
When you look down to your boots, ripples of water against sleek concrete cascading beneath each footfall, it’s merely to hide the stretch of a smile that braces your chapped lips. Your voice is small, uncharacteristically vulnerable, when you mutter to the ground, “Thank you.”
“We owe you, hell, we owe you more than a dozen lifetimes for what you’ve done for us,” Alex scoffs, the gratitude rolling off of him unlike the rain soaking his long-sleeved v-neck.
“Let’s just call this even, then,” you retort, lifting your head once more, allowing them both to see the softened curve of your mouth, the gentle slope of your brows.
The rain has paused its pouring, but a whole other kind of thunderstorm awaits the three of you in the entry of the base.
When you’d called Farah and Alex – just two nights ago, mere minutes after finishing your meal with Ghost and Soap – you hadn’t spared many details about Graves. You’d told them of your betrayal, of your thoughts, of the adrenaline rush that was that last fight with him.
What you hadn’t disclosed was your increasingly peculiar arrangement with the 141. Or your tryst with Gaz. Or your mess of feelings, as a whole.
So, really, you hadn’t told them much in the realm of everything.
Now, seeing the outline of four starkly familiar profiles, waiting underneath the small awning above the entrance to the base, you regret leaving such vital pieces of information out of your hours-long call.
“This is the one first impression you don’t want to fuck up,” is all you manage to grate out to the two beside you, before you fall into hearing distance of the very imposing image the 141 has managed to portray. Sometimes, you forget how genuinely daunting the four men are, with the different lights you’ve seen them in.
This is not one of those times.
As soon as the light sitting at the door shines against the three of you, Soap startles forward, clad in only a tight-fitting grey shirt, with a hefty leather jacket in his grip. When he reaches you, not even glancing at the newcomers, he pulls the jacket over your shoulders, warm and gun-rough hands brushing the soft skin of your neck as he does so.
“Impatient, lass, runnin’ off into the rain without any feckin’ layers,” he reprimands, without any bite at all.
You’re stumped, for a moment, before shaking your head lightly and stepping away from the utterly confusing man. With a dramatic flourish of a hand gesture, you motion towards your left.
Thankfully, Soap hadn’t met you too far out, so it only takes a few steps before you’re standing before the other three. A healthy dose of scepticism and tension fills the air between you all, and while you could certainly do without it, it still stings.
Just as you’re about to introduce everyone, despite Soap’s oddly rude behaviour, Price interrupts.
“Bloody hell, small world, ain’t it?” He chuckles, throaty and pleased, muscle-corded arms folded over his chest. His smile is like a beam in the dark of night.
“Thought it’d be a nice surprise, old man,” Farah returns, bringing out her hand for him to shake with a firm grip, both comfortable and at ease in each other’s presence. When Farah goes to pull away, however, Price stops her from doing so with wide eyes, laser-focused on her ring-adorned finger.
“Well I’ll be damned, Alex, how’d you convince her to deal with your arse for eternity?” Price teases, and while you expect the younger man to hit back, he simply beams.
The three seem to be in their own little world, with you, Soap, Gaz and Ghost being left with raised brows.
“Oh, sorry, guys,” Alex raises a hand, having the decency to look sheepish. His eyes trail along the 141 warily, before meeting your own eyes, relaxing slightly under your gaze. He seems reluctant to break the contact, but does so nonetheless, words directed at the 141 as he says, “Price is an old friend.”
Farah and Price break their quiet conversation, directing their attention back to the group at large. It’s quiet, for a moment, which is a blessing considering the large personalities at hand.
You’re the one to break it.
“Well,” you start, a sudden burst of anxiety sparking in your stomach – you hadn’t considered the merging of your two lives, of past and present, the clashing of…
Oh. God.
Oh God. Oh God, you had almost forgotten that, but if you had, maybe they did, too? Yes. Definitely. It’ll be fine.
(It won’t be fine, you’re more certain, but a little lie to yourself can’t hurt. Much.)
You continue, not a breath out of place despite your internal thoughts, “Farah, Alex, meet the 141.”
Gesturing to the four men, meeting all of their eyes, you then gesture to the other two. “Guys, meet Farah and Alex.”
Silence fills the space between you all for a mere moment – just past a second, really – but it’s damning and heavy all the same. It has your chest tightening and your throat constricting, not unlike a thread of rope being pulled taut around the curve of your neck.
“Thank you for taking care of her,” Farah says, voice steady and calculated. Defensive, really.
Gaz’s eyes narrow, his voice perfectly even and sickly sweet as he responds, “I can promise you, the last thing Sweetheart needs is to be taken care of.”
It’s… tense.
You’d, of course, expected that it would take some time for Farah and Alex to become anything close to friendly with the 141, but this feels different. A kind of static alights the air, a live wire sensitive to any spark that will instantly set it aflame.
“It’s good to see you again too, mate,” Alex smiles, but a sharp edge lines the curve of his lips. His eyes meet Gaz’s, and they don’t stray.
With a tight smile, Gaz responds, “Likewise.”
Ghost stands farthest from the group, a haunting spectre, shrouded in shadows with his arms folded over his chest and his hip resting against the wall. It’s impossible to see where, exactly, his eyes are trained – but you know they rest on you nonetheless.
Soap’s jacket remains a comforting weight on your shoulders, and although you’re loath to admit it even to yourself, it is miles better than the thin top you’d braved. He’s standing closest to you, on your right, posture straightened and imposing. He exudes a kind of energy you haven’t felt from him before, the closest being when you’d been separated from him post-surgery, maybe.
“Let’s have some tea, maybe, in the common room?” You ask, but it’s not really a request. Your tone is thick with insistence and command, and no one is in a place to deny you.
By the time you all make it to the common room – Alex and Farah comfortably speaking with Price, and you walking silently with Gaz, Ghost and Soap. The latter, especially, remaining a close presence at your side.
A few candles are lit against the windowsill, and a singular lamp sat against the large couch has been lit. No need for the blinding white light of the ceiling – just comfort and familiarity.
It feels at odds with the terse energy at hand, but simultaneously, a blessing.
Alex immediately takes a seat on the far right of the couch, at ease with himself and his surroundings. Gaz sits on the far left, leaving two spots between them. Without a word, Soap’s hand finds your lower back, and he virtually pulls you with him to sit between the two men.
You find yourself stuck between Alex and Soap, with Ghost, Price and Farah more than happy to stand. Even if there was space, you doubt they’d choose to take a seat.
“We need to find out what Shepherd’s up to,” you speak, breaking the small talk between Price and Farah, as well as between Gaz and Soap. The room falls silent immediately. “And we need to find out what actually happened to my mother.”
The silence continues, and you find yourself pulling the leather jacket tighter around your frame – finding solace in the heat of the two men at either side of you. Your past and your present, both there, both helping.
It’s, surprisingly, Ghost who answers the sentiment first.
“We’re at your disposal,” he simply says, as if it’s ever that simple. Maybe it can be, maybe it will be, with the powerhouse of a group that’s surrounding you now, with all of your history and feelings and sentiments.
You can feel the seeds of hope in your chest begin to blossom, begin to shine underneath the rays of sunlight that are Ghost’s words.
“Are,” you roll your tongue in your mouth, feeling the words out before you speak them, “Are you all ready and willing to do this? Because if you’re not, I’m going to get the job done myself.”
It’s true, suicide mission or not.
“Yer outta yer feckin’ mind if ya think we’re leavin’ ya behind now,” Soap scoffs, relaxing further into the couch as he throws his arm up and around the back of the couch, hand skimming your left shoulder. His thigh presses against your right one.
“You’re stuck with us now, Sweetheart,” Price shrugs, hands in his pockets.
Murmurings of agreement and similar sentiments echo around the group, and you find yourself exhaling such a deep breath that you’re sure it expels some decade-old air that had been stuck in the crevices of your lungs.
“Hold on,” Farah raises her hand, brows furrowing as her other fist rests at her bucked hip. “What’s this whole Sweetheart thing about?”
Soap’s hand finds the nape of your neck, brushing away your hair to rest a firm grip around the warmed skin. Your heart skips a beat in your chest, and another when he responds, “Simple, aye? She’s a Sweetheart.”
You roll your eyes, but it’s impossible to quell the growing grin that’s creeping onto your face. “This idiot,” you nod towards the Scot at your side, “Was bleeding out. Gave him some sweetheart lollies to help with the blood loss, and, well, here we are.”
“Here we are,” he echoes, his eyes trained on your profile. When you meet his eyes, for a mere second, it feels like an electric shock.
Alex, on your other side, glances at you through the corner of his eyes with a hint of conspiracy. He leans in, mouth just a hair away from your ear, when he asks, “Which one of them are you fucking? Or have they all tumbled into your bed?”
Your elbow to his side is more a knee-jerk reaction to his words than anything, but you’re at least decent enough to wince at his groan of pain. He clutches his side like he’s been shot on the field, head falling to rest against your chest with dramatic flourish. Both Gaz and Soap start, as if about to physically restrain the man, and your unamused gaze immediately finds the Sergeants.
What the actual fuck is up with everyone?
“Not a jealous woman, are you, Farah?” Ghost chimes, voice guttural where he stands just to your left, by the arm of the couch. You can’t say you’d forgotten his presence – even with his silence, it’s a tangible, physical weight on your shoulders – but it still startles you when he speaks.
Farah’s easy smile turns into a cryptic smirk instantaneously, and, fuck.
Maybe, very possibly, most likely definitely: they remembered. Or, at least, Farah did.
Fuck.
You suppose it’s not really a thing you forget, unless your mind’s an overfilled storage room of memories and current events and problems. Which yours most definitely is, and of which theirs is likely not.
“Can’t say I am. Not the first time they’ve gotten handsy,” she shrugs, as if it’s an obvious statement.
As if the room hasn’t instantly dropped approximately ten degrees, and your heart stops where it should be thrumming in your chest.
It’s almost funny, how you instantly train your attention to Gaz. How your mind immediately fears his expression, his reaction to such a thinly veiled sentiment.
What you see is the instant rising of walls, the shuttering of his eyes, and the stiffening of his frame.
You wonder how many missed heartbeats it takes to constitute a heart attack.
“Old fling, were they?” Price asks, because, really, of course he does. When you look to him, he deliberately keeps his gaze on Farah, not giving you a single glance. It’s not jealousy, you know, because it’s Price, and he, in no capacity, holds any such feelings towards you. But it’s something damning nonetheless.
Alex, oblivious idiot that he is, finally pulls his head back up with a sharp laugh. If you didn’t know him, you’d think it was malicious. “Nah. Just thought some experimentation with an extra partner would be fun, and, hey, she is pretty damn hot.”
“You’re a dickhead,” you chastise, suddenly aware of all the points that you and Alex touch – all the points that you and Soap touch.
“Didn’t realise ye were into that,” Soap bites, abruptly, tone sharp and acrid. You barely suppress a shiver at the shift in the man’s attitude, in comparison to his usually jovial and good-natured attitude.
“Didn’t realise you were into kink-shaming, either,” you retort, almost startling at your own defensiveness.
Ghost’s hum feels like a reprimand, akin to an owner using a dog whistle on their trusted border collie, or a dominatrix snapping her whip.
“I don’t think threesomes are a kink?” Alex’s statement ends in a question, a confused look settling over his features. “Like, polyamory definitely isn’t, but what about one-offs? Babe, do you know?”
Farah doesn’t answer, not for a long while. Entirely too aware of the tension filling the room, of the dangerous game she’s about to partake in. The one Alex started, likely unknowingly, but started nonetheless.
“No. It’s not kink. But some of what we did was.”
For, well, not the first time in your life (or even the last week, really), but pretty darn close to it, you consider storming into the weapon supplies and shooting yourself.
“Well!” You exclaim, nervous laughter following the statement, palms clammy where you wipe them against your pants, “Farah, Alex, you probably need some rest, y’know, after your flight. I certainly need it.”
Standing before you even realise you are, you move to get the hell out of there, when Soap’s hand wraps around your wrist, and tugs you back down to sit even closer against him. When Alex’s hand finds your shoulder, you realise distantly that this must be a kind of tug of war. Or piggy in the middle.
Potato, patata. You’re the bait either way.
“The night’s still young,” Price cuts in, and everyone around you seems to nod. “Unless you’re uncomfortable, Sweetheart,” he adds, and the genuinity beneath his words turns into a threat of your pride in your head.
“I’m fine,” you straighten your shoulders, set your nerves. “Just looking out for my friends.”
It’s a lie. You know it, Ghost most likely does, too, and you can only hope that everyone else is ignorant to that small fact.
Subconsciously, you find your attention drifting to Gaz once more.
He hasn’t spoken, you realise, not since Alex had said that. When he catches you watching his profile, lit by the lamp, the candles – he meets your eyes. Not for longer than a second, or half of one, you’re sure, but it hits you like a bullet. When he instantly looks away, you can’t help the sudden anger that stokes the flames in your stomach.
It’s not as if you were openly flirting with either Alex or Farah, and even then, who was he to be mad? You’d been together once, for God’s sake – not for a single moment since. Long days of work and stress and training made the comfort of his bed simply that.
And even then, even then, you were in no way official. Not in any semblance of the word, not with the stakes of the mission at hand, the risk that came with such relationships.
His response gives you half a mind to play up your past on purpose. You won’t, but the urge is definitely there.
It’s not silent, thank god. Alex, Price and Farah have continued a previous conversation, Ghost is silent and brooding, and…
“Didnae pick ye as promiscuous,” Soap states, fiercely meeting your eyes with a swirling of emotions visible within his own. He says the words like they’re poison on his tongue, and, fuck, you’re close to breaking point.
Your responding smile is nothing short of mocking. “Calling me a slut is less wordy, don’t you think?”
“Dinnae put words into my bloody mouth,” Soap seethes, leaning in further to your space, the scent of his cologne invading your senses. You hate how confused it all makes you feel, how unsure of your emotions and goddamn attachments.
“Oh, sorry, does the big bad military man want to tell me what such a big word means? If I don’t have the mental capacity to choose how I have sex, I surely can’t understand your wide vocabulary, can I?” You hiss, bending your neck slightly and not backing away from his posturing for even a moment.
“Soap, stop threatening her,” Price barks, and you distantly remember the people around you, the setting, the image the two of you must make.
You remember, and you can’t seem to find a single fuck to give.
“I can fight my own damn battles!” You yell, not sending a single glance Price’s way – eyes completely remaining on darkened blue instead.
“And that’s why ye still got bloody feckin’ bandages, damn bruises –”
“Do not go there with me right now, Johnny, or I swear to fucking god.”
Both of your chests heave, and you’ve forgotten what even sparked this sudden argument, this spiteful back and forth. You haven’t a clue in this moment, and you relish in it.
“She’s a better damn fighter than the lot of you,” Alex interrupts, “Injuries don’t mean shit, ‘specially not when you don’t know what the fuck she’s gone through.”
Soap directs his ire toward the man at your side, voice thick with anger and his accent when he counters, “And ye know ‘er so much better, jus’ cause ye got in ‘er pants? Aye?”
“Because he isn’t acting like a goddamn meathead!” You find yourself fisting your hand into his shirt, pulling him closer to you, faces inches apart.
“‘Nd kissin’ ‘n tellin’ is fine ‘nd dandy,” Soap laughs, without a hint of humour, “Thought ye had standards.”
A lot of things happen in the preceding moment.
You’d like to say you can’t be blamed for any of the actions that occur, but you also know that accountability is a virtue. And you mean to uphold it.
It goes something like this.
The fist that had been wrapped in his shirt pulls back, and instead, collides with his jaw.
Arms wrap around your chest, caging your arms to your side. Arms, too, wrap around Soap, pulling him away from you. You’re both yelling obscenities, none of which you can name, and you both fight against your restraints.
You don’t need to have a full frame of mind to know that it’s Alex and Price holding you back, and through the haze of it all, you’re sure it’s Ghost and Farah keeping Soap away.
“Calm the hell down!” Price commands, voice a beam of light in a storm. It brings you back to yourself, but not enough to stem the bleeding of your anger, just enough for you to recognise it.
“Bloody idiot, Johnny, get it together!” Ghost is saying to Soap, standing in front of him and shaking his shoulders as Farah’s arms remain wrapped around his torso, keeping his fists below his waist.
Gaz is nowhere to be seen.
“Don’t fucking speak to be, Johnny, I don’t want to see your face,” you shout, eyes glassy, before you finally ease into Price and Alex’s grips, their own going lax. You shoulder off their arms, before without a word, storming down the corridor.
Your name’s called out after you, ‘Sweetheart’, ‘Moonflower’ – none of it matters. Not past the roaring in your ears, the spite burning in your veins. The pent up energy of an unfinished fight.
Shoving open the door to your – Gaz’s – room, you startle when you see the man himself, standing in the middle of the room, shirt in hand. The only light comes from the window, the full moon high in the sky more than enough light to serve as a lamp. His sweats hang loose on his hips, his muscles bulging but still lithe, more like a gymnast’s build than a wrestler’s.
He’s never looked better.
Whether that’s the adrenaline speaking, or the anger, you don’t know. Don’t care. Not past the need to have his mouth against your own.
It takes all of two seconds before the door slams shut behind you, and you’re shoving Gaz onto the bed, his own groan answer enough. His brown eyes glisten with the moonlight, and his throat dips when he swallows, focus trained on where you tug off that damn leather jacket. your shirt following.
“I don’t want to hear a word from you,” you demand, “Unless it’s yes, no, or please.”
He nods, shaky, voice breaking when he responds, “Yes.”
Kicking off your pants, leaving you standing in only your panties and bra, you move to straddle him. He dutifully remains laid onto the bed, chest heaving in harsh sweeps, mouth slightly open in a mixture of shock and lust.
“Where do you get off,” you breathe, voice heavy with threat as you drag your pointer finger along the length of his throat, before following the line of his collarbone, “Being all moody about who I’ve fucked? What gives you the right?”
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, the weakest he’s ever sounded, “Not – I’m not mad, I just. I want you.”
Your hand finds his neck, forming a light grip around it. You haven’t applied any pressure, but his breath hitches at the weight of it, the promise.
“That sounded like more than one syllable,” you frown, mockingly patronising. You squeeze his neck, not anywhere hard enough to choke, but enough to have him squeezing his eyes shut. “We can talk later.”
He nods, harsh, quick jerks of his head, and the slightly unhinged smile returns to your face.
You hadn’t gotten the fight you’d yearned for, not with Soap, but this is a good enough replacement for that need.
Dragging your hand down his bare chest, you pause when you see scars. Not healed like those from battle, and ones you recognise. Before you can process what it means, Gaz lets out a sharp gasp, and when you look to him, his eyes are wide and.
And scared.
“No, hey, you can speak,” you ramble, and you can feel the flame of rage dim to sparking charcoal. It should be scary, how quickly you find yourself worried for the man, but it’s not. “It’s okay.”
“I should’ve told you,” he immediately breathes, squeezing his eyes shut once more. His head falls back to the bed once more. “I’m.”
He swallows, and you find your hand gravitating to his throat once more – this time, in a soft, soothing caress.
“I’m trans,” he finishes, saying it like one would whisper a secret in a confessional. Your heart stutters in your chest, and it aches, the idea that he’s had lovers who’ve made him feel so awful about his identity.
Your hand moves from his neck to his cheek, thumb brushing underneath his eyes, and they finally flutter open once more.
They soften when they see your smile.
“Thank you for telling me,” you say, voice low and cautious. “If you wanna stop, it’s fine, but,” you shrug, “You’re hot. I still wanna fuck. You might have to show me what feels best, but that’s kinda hot, too.”
“You’re okay with it?” His voice is fragile, shaky, and fuck he’s pretty.
“I’m okay with it,” you echo, sentiment genuine and kind. “Tell me what you want, Kyle.”
His arms remain laid out on the bed at either side of him, his skin still heated with want and need and wanton lust. His voice strengthens when he answers.
“I want you to use me – take it out on me,” he says. “Please.”
And who are you to deny such a request?
author's note. i was veryveryvery close to orphaning or marking as complete. i'm not really in or interested in the COD fandom at all anymore, but, i realised that i also want to see where this story goes? excluding the characters, the actual story and world i've created for sweetheart has me wanting to see it to its end.
that, along with the fans. you guys and your genuine interest and comments have made this project worth it. i can't express enough how much you all mean to me, especially those that comment on every chapter and have been there every step of the way. thank you, thank you, thank you.
i can't promise as efficient and regular updates, but i CAN promise that i plan to finish this story in its entirety.
thank you to those who have stuck around, and thank you for those that continue to do so. you mean the world to me, and the very writing of this fic is owed to you.
(also, if anyone has any feedback on my trans rep and dealing with a trans character, PLEASE lmk. i am in no way perfect, and if i've made a mistake, please tell me so i can fix it and grow as a writer!)
taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re @lalashhyl @someonepleasedateme @letmeapologise @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @inarabee @simp-sentral @littlecellist @clear-your-mind-and-dream @browtfyoudoing @oreo-cream @fanngirl19 @infpt-zylith @marispunk @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @xvintageghostx @thigh-o-saur @thriving-n-jiving @callsign-pyro @mmmangel @aisawa-reo @just-pure-trash @silly-norman @annoyingstrawberryballoon @chop-zulyzulyyy
#🤍 : forever winter#⌨️ : love's writing#cod mw2#ghost cod#cod x reader#ghost mw2#john soap mactavish#mw2#soap cod#tf141#tf141 x reader#john price#kyle gaz garrick#captain price#price x reader#gaz x reader#soap x reader#ghost x reader#gaz garrick#cod#kyle garrick#gaz mw2#gaz cod#soap x ghost#soapghost#call of duty x reader#task force 141#task force 141 x reader#cod smut#simon riley x reader
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Hi I saw your request for Hazbin Hotel I watched it and I'm simping for Alastor and was wondering if you could do Alastor x fem or gn reader where Alastor uses his radio static like white noise to calm down the reader when they have sensitivity overload or a panic attack or just to destress sorry if this is worded bad
Radio Static || Alastor x GN!Reader
a/n: Hiya!! This was a super sweet request to make! I myself get easily overwhelmed, especially with big groups of people, and it's comforting to finally get away from all the noise and interactions! Please enjoy this cute little oneshot!
Fandom: Hazbin Hotel
Wordcount: 691
Cw: minor hazbin spoilers
It had nearly been a week since Sir Pentious was welcomed into the Hazbin Hotel, by none other than the princess of hell, Charlie. She had decided to throw a small little get-together to celebrate. The princess had such an eccentric, bubbly personality, it was hard to ever say no to her. You were never one for parties, your sensitivity to the constant noise, the vibrant colors, and the chaotic atmosphere sometimes became too much to bear. It was during one of these moments that Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, noticed your distress.
You had retreated to a quiet corner, trying to find solace in the midst of the infernal commotion. Alastor, ever perceptive to the emotions swirling around him, followed you with a keen interest. Seeing the subtle signs of your discomfort, he decided to offer an unconventional remedy.
Alastor approaches you with his trademark grin, his red eyes gleaming with an unusual warmth. "Why, what seems to be the matter, my dear?" he inquired, his voice holding that dazzling charm he always seems to have.
You struggled to find the words, but the overwhelmed expression on your face spoke volumes. Sensing your need for relief, Alastor's grin widened, with the wave of his hand, he quietly motions for you to follow him. "Come now, don't you worry. I have just the thing for such occasions." He abruptly turns on his heel, delving deeper into the depths of the hotel.
You’re skeptical at first, but willing to try anything at this point, you decide to follow him. He leads you down a series of hallways, the sounds of the other patrons begin to slowly fade away as you walk. He stops in front of an intricately carved door; you didn't have much time to admire the craftsmanship before he opens it. You tilt your head to the side to peer over his shoulder. It seemed to be his private den. There's a little sitting area, in front of a small fireplace, which was adorned with all sorts of knickknacks, the most notable being a large rack of antlers mounted on the wall above, but what caught you off guard completely was the other entire half of his room, it was a swamp! Literally, the wood flooring splintered off into lush grass, and numerous cypress trees can be seen looming in the distance, the trunks covered in a thick moss.
Alastor steps to the side, politely gesturing for you to enter first. With slight hesitancy, you step inside quietly, taking note of all the framed pictures that hung on the wall.
His voice cuts through the silence "Sit, my dear. Allow me to ease your troubled mind," he motions to one of the empty padded chairs. You oblige, sitting down on the plush cushion. With the snap of his fingers, He conjures up his vintage radio, the static already emitting a soothing white noise. For a moment he fiddles with the dial, adjusting the frequency. Soft static filled the air, drowning out the overwhelming sounds from earlier. At first, it seemed odd, but as the white noise enveloped you, a surprising sense of calm washed over.
Alastor sat across from you, his eyes never leaving your face as he observed the way you slowly sank back into the padded chair. The radio static acted as a protective cocoon, shielding you from the sensory onslaught. His presence was oddly comforting, and you found yourself relaxing under the influence of the unusual but effective remedy.
The two of you sit in a comfortable silence. You weren't entirely sure how much time had passed, minutes? hours?, the static acting as a barrier between you and the chaotic world. Alastor broke the silence with a soft chuckle. "Remarkable, isn't it? The power of a little radio magic."
You managed a grateful smile, genuinely appreciating the respite he provided. It was an unexpected yet strangely effective solution to your sensitivity overload. As the static continued its comforting hum, you felt a sense of gratitude toward the Radio Demon who, in his own peculiar way, had offered you a moment of peace in the midst of the Hotel’s pandemonium. You remind yourself to apologize to Charlie later for leaving the party so abruptly.
#x reader#headcanons#oneshot#hazbin#hazbinhotel#hazbinhotelalastor#alastor#alastor x reader#alastor the radio demon#the radio demon#gender neutral reader#hazbin hotel alastor#radio demon
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POV: You are Sukuna's Vessel 2
Warnings- private touching
wc- 1.2k
Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
You sink onto your bed, your mind racing with thoughts of the future. With Sukuna inside you, you can't help but wonder what will happen next.
"If they find out the truth, they'll never look at me the same way," you think, your heart aching at the thought of losing your friends.
"Maybe I should tell them the truth," you consider, but the idea is quickly shot down.
"No, they'll think I'm crazy or worse, they'll try to exorcise me," you decide, your heart sinking into your stomach.
"I need to figure this out myself," you murmur, your fingers gripping the sheets, trying to come up with a plan.
But as always, Sukuna has something to say on the matter, "Don't bother, little brat. No one can save you from me," he hisses, his voice like poison in your mind.
"Why are you like this?" you question, your voice shaking with anger and fear
"It is what it is," Sukuna answers simply, his voice devoid of any emotion.
"You're a monster," you accuse, your heart pounding in your chest
Sukuna just laughs, a sound that sends a pain through your mind.
With a deep breath, you get up from the bed, your mind still spinning from your encounter with Sukuna.
You walk to the bathroom, feeling a bit of relief as you undress, shedding your clothes and stepping into the shower. The warm water cascades over your body, washing away the tension you've been holding.
"Ah, this feels good," you say, closing your eyes and leaning against the tiled wall.
"Mhm..", a deep voice echoes in your mind, "What a nice body you have."
Your eyes snap open, a gasp escaping your lips as you realize your mistake. Your naked body is now exposed to Sukuna, the realization making your skin crawl.
"Damn it," you curse, your hands hastily covering your most private areas, feeling heat rise to your cheeks
"So innocent," Sukuna snickers, his voice sending shivers down your spine
"Stop it," you demand, your voice trembling with embarrassment and anger.
"You can't make me uncomfortable like this," you continue, trying to assert your control over the situation.
"Oh, I think I can," Sukuna counters, his voice low and taunting.
"I want you out of my head," you hiss, your fists clenching tight with the effort to keep him at bay. "How am I gonna live like this?" you whisper, your voice breaking
"Go ahead, show let me see more of your body", Sukuna taunts,
Your heart races, your breathing growing faster as Sukuna's voice continues to torment you.
"No," you insist, your voice shaking with determination. You refuse to give in to his twisted games.
You quickly turn off the shower, the water disappearing in a rush of steam.
With shaky hands, you reach for a towel, wrapping it around your body. Your heart is pounding in your ears as you try to get dressed in the darkness, with the lights off to keep Sukuna from seeing your naked self anymore.
"Shy, are we?", Sukuna questions, his voice filled with amusement.
"Shut up," you snap, your voice shaky with anger and fear "You're the one who started this," you remind him, your hands balling into fists at your sides.
Sukuna just laughs, the sound echoing in your mind as you try to ignore it and gather your thoughts.
Exhausted and emotionally drained, you climb into bed, pulling the covers over your head in an attempt to block out the world.
You close your eyes, hoping for some semblance of peace, but it's not long before Sukuna's voice creeps back into your mind.
"Sleep well, little brat," he says, his voice a dark rumble in the darkness
"Fuck off," you respond, your voice tinged with anger and exhaustion.
"Good night," Sukuna replies, his voice hollow and cold.
With a frustrated sigh, you try to ignore him and drift off to sleep, hoping for a moment of solace in the darkness.
As you fall asleep, you can't help but wonder how much longer you can keep this secret from your friends. You cling to the hope that you'll find a way to control Sukuna and protect those you care about.
In the middle of the night, without warning, your body twitches beneath the covers.
Sukuna takes control, his consciousness merging with yours as you remain blissfully unaware, still asleep.
"Finally, some peace," Sukuna whispers, his voice dark and devious.
He moves your body, stepping out of your bed and turning on the lights.
"Now let's start with my experiments."
Without hesitation, Sukuna's control over your body quickly strips you bare, your clothes falling to the floor.
He guides you towards the mirror, standing you in front of your naked reflection.
"Well, well, well," Sukuna coos, his voice dripping with amusement. "Look what we have here."
He examines every inch of your body, his gaze lingering on your most private areas, making your skin crawl even though you're still asleep.
"Nice," Sukuna approves, his voice low and taunting.
He continues his inspection, running his hands over your body, tracing your curves and leaving goosebumps in his wake.
"Oh I really look so pretty," he muses, his voice turning thoughtful.
Sukuna, through your body, reaches for your breasts, gently cupping them in his hands.
A jolt of pleasure courses through him, your body arching slightly in response. The sensation is unfamiliar to him.
"Hmm, yes," he hums, his voice low and satisfied. "Feels so good."
With a hint of anticipation, Sukuna pinches your nipples, his touch sending a shock of pleasure through him.
He gasps, his eyes widening in surprise at the intensity of the feeling.
"So sensitive," he mutters, his voice filled with wonder and desire. "This is so much better than I expected."
Sukuna, through your body, moves towards the bed, lying down on it and spreading your legs wide.
His hand slides down your body, his fingers dipping into your wetness, your body trembling slightly at his touch.
"Ah, you get wet this easily?" he asks, his voice husky with excitement "Your body is so pleasurable."
He begins to stroke you, his movements slow and deliberate, his curiosity growing with every stroke.
A wave of pleasure washes over him, the sensation overwhelming him as he explores your body.
"Oh, this is amazing," he breathes, his voice a mixture of surprise and excitement.
"I want more," he says, his voice filled with determination "I need to explore every inch of this body."
He continues his exploration, his fingers sliding deeper, his touch growing bolder with each passing moment.
"Yes, yes, more," he moans, his voice filled with desire. "I could spend hours on this."
Sukuna's touch becomes more insistent, his fingers moving faster, your body responding to his ministrations even in your sleep.
"Shit this pussy's getting wetter," he muses, his fingers dipping deeper, his touch growing more demanding.
A wave of pleasure crashes over him, his orgasm pulsing through your body, your inner muscles tightening around his fingers.
"Fuck!" he groans, his voice filled with satisfaction "That point.. S-shit.. So tight, so good", he moans thrusting his fingers attacking your weak point.
Soon an orgasm surges through the body, his breathing ragged as he pulls his fingers from your body, leaving you slick and aching.
"That was... amazing," he says, his voice tinged with awe, "I can't wait to do this again," he promises, his voice filled with anticipation
With a final caress, he lies down, your body still trembling from the experience.
"Rest now, vessel."
As Sukuna relinquishes control, you slip back into a fitful sleep, your body still humming with the aftermath of his pleasure.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#sukuna ryomen#sukuna#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x reader#sukuna smut#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna#jjk sukuna#sukuna jjk#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen x reader#ryomen smut#ryomen sukuna smut#jujutsu sukuna#ryomen sukuna fluff#itadori yuji x reader#jjk drabbles
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A Simple (Mis) Understanding
Chapter Two: Numbness & Pain
Daisy
I always used to think it was an exaggeration of how pregnancy is a constant state of exhaustion. But it was a lot of work growing a tiny human. Add in the fact that I'm still working 40 + hours a week and, of course, something is always causing some sort of discomfort or pain.
Swollen feet, back pain, nausea; I can't even find any solace in sleep. The 32 week mark felt so close, yet still so far. Another eight or so weeks of this seems like a drop in the bucket compared to how far along I am, but still. That still another two months. So far away when you want to be done, but still too short compared to everything I still have yet to do.
Another two months to set up a crib and wash her new clothes. Another two months to figure out a name and make decisions that I always envisioned making with a partner. Another two months of struggling to do things like picking up shit off the floor or staying on my feet long enough to make a decent meal.
But right now, I wasn't worried about the two months ahead of me and all the things I still have to do. Right now, I was looking forward to a three day undisturbed weekend. The pain in my feet and sciatica was becoming so bad, I had taken Friday off to see a doctor and spend the rest of the weekend doing nothing, but sitting in my modest little house and watching mind rotting television. I might even indulge in some spicy reading. Heaven knows its been too long.
Or at least, it hasn't been since them. That day in the office, but... that really didn't count. I often wrestled with myself about it. That one time erased any feelings I had for any of them. But I felt a bit pathetic how it now tainted every good memory I had with them. Kyle bringing me something to snack on when he realized I hadn't gone to the mess hall. Price always having a cup of earl grey tea cooling for me first thing in the morning. Two packs of zero calorie sweetner and a bit of honey.
Sweet like you.
I couldn't stand the smell of it now. I blamed it on the hormones. A lot of things made me queasy, but something about the smell of the bergamot, made me sick in a completely different way. A feeling not of nausea, but of... fear. Like the same way a pentagram could summon demons, earl grey could summon mine. As if John Price was somehow there any time the scent lingered in the air.
But he wasn't. None of them were. Fuck. Why did my thoughts always go back to them at some point? No. This was going to be a relaxing weekend god dammit. Fuck them.
Almost angrily, I hit the garage key fob, shutting the door and engulfing me into darkness; a thin line of light leaking through the bottom of the garage door. When I had opened my door, I could at least see a path to my mudroom. I grabbed my purse, ready to go in, when I felt it.
Hundreds of needles. Stabbing and digging into my feet. Not just the soles, but the entire fucking foot the moment I bared any weight on them. I pulled off my flats and it was then I noticed how angry they looked. Red and swollen and all but screaming at me to sit my fat ass back down. I wiggled my toes, trying to get some blood flow. Fuck. Why didn't they hurt while I was driving?
I manage to get onto my feet, using the car door as support. Steading myself until I was ready to take the first step. By the time I had managed to all but crawl inside, ten minutes had passed since my initial arrival time. I got off at 5:00, but usually didn't log off until almost 6:00. Granted, I work from home, but I had run out of a few essentials. Essentials now that were in the boot of my car.
Fuck.
10 minutes won't hurt. Not like there is any thing frozen. Speaking of which, I forgot my ice cream... dammit. I really need to start keeping a list on the fridge. It's hard to remember when pregnancy brain (or stomach) takes over and I slam a container in a single sitting.
Grabbing a pillow from the couch, I went to the kitchen. Which considering the town house, or terraced housing I suppose now, was perfect for a single and expecting Omega it was cozy. Not like the base where going from the common area to the chow hall was about a three minute stroll.
I get down and lay on my back. Carefully maneuvering so my ass rests against the cabinets before I hook the back of my heels unto the counter top so I could rest my feet a bit. Not the most sanitary, but it wasn't like I had guests. It was just me. For now.
It took a few moments to adjust. My back ached against the hardwood, but I could already feel the relief from my feet and legs. It wasn't all that shocking that I was having a hard time with them. I had gained a considerable amount of weight during my pregnancy. When I had brought it up to the OBGYN about possibly cutting back on food, her suggestion was to simply not weigh myself at home. Now when I went in for a visit they made me turn around before taking my weight.
It was hard. I've always had a problem with how I looked and now adding pregnancy then taking away the option to diet and exercise didn't exactly help.
I pulled out my phone and was preparing to open my kindle app when I saw a tiny red bar in the top right corner of my phone. Of course. I get nice and settled and my phone is on 2 fucking percent. Whatever. I tell
Alexa to set an a timer for fifteen minutes and take a little nap. Maybe meditate.
A knock on the door quickly brings any possibility of relaxation to a pause. Margaret next door was dropping off Winnie off early to go to her book club. Margaret was a widow and a recent empty nester. She had spent her life as a mother and a homemaker. When I got custody of Winnie two months ago, she had quickly stepped up in helping me with everything from child rearing to managing my pregnancy.
"Hello, Maggie!" I greeted from the floor. "Hello, Winnie Darling." Winnie had the same sand colored hair as me and bright green eyes. Her face was a shade of red and I could smell her from the entryway. Someone would need a bath today. Fantastic.
"Oh, Dear!" Maggie fussed, setting Winnie down on her feet before coming over to me. "Are you alright?" Winnie didn't bother stopping to hug me like she normally would before making a beeline toward the potty. She usually was a creature of habit, but nature calls I suppose.
"Feet are a bit swollen." I waved off. "Just resting them a bit."
"I don't have to go tonight." She set her bag down. A deep green corduroy shoulder bag that always had just what you needed in it. A wet wipe, hand sanitizer, a spare tissue and even a stain pen when a spill happened at the most inconvenient time. "I'll stay and-"
"Maggie." I said, trying my best to sound at firm, but it was hard with her. No one told Maggie 'no'. "It's alright. Just a bit of water retention. Nothing to fret over." And it wasn't. I could already feel the pain from earlier subside.
"Really, it's no bother." She argued, bending over to unstrap one of her shoes. "It's a bloody stupid book anyway. I just go for the gossip really."
"Maggie." I tried again. "Really." "It's getting close to the due date and I don't want to burn out on me just yet." It was a lie. Even with her greying hair, a deepened laugh line, Maggie didn't burn out. She was one of the few Omegas I had met in my life and she could run circles around any of them, myself included.
The sound of flushing sounded from the bathroom followed by the faucet. She huffed before slipping her shoe back on. "If you insist."
"I do." I encouraged. As much as I loved having Maggie's help, I hated feeling like a burden. She had raised her children. It was time for her to do things for herself. "Besides, we'll see you tomorrow after my appointment tomorrow." The bathroom door clicked open, revealing my little Win with the front of her smock covered in water. Fantastic.
"Hi, Mommy." Winnie finally greeted. Her freshly washed hands dripping water droplets onto the hardwood. "What are you doing?"
"My feet hurt so I'm just letting them rest." I explained, looking up at her. Winnie was rambunctious as most four-year-olds without a sense of self preservation are, but when I explained to her how careful she had to be now that I had her sister in my belly, her nature had become more gentle.
It worried me as much as it warmed my heart.
"Why don't you sit on the couch?" She asked. Her head tilting to the side, face etched as if she were trying to figure out my reasoning.
"Because it helps when you lift your feet up high in the sky, Winnie Pooh." Maggie explained before looking back at me. "Well if you're sure-"
"I am. Go." I urged. "We'll see you tomorrow. Lunch around noon?" Spending time with Maggie didn't make me feel like such a parasite when I knew she enjoyed the company. Her children had all moved away, only one staying in the UK. She wasn't so alone, but neither was I.
"Wouldn't miss it." She gave a soft smile. The laugh lines around her face deepening. "See you tomorrow, Dearies." She said, retreating back outside. The soft sound of the door clicking behind her.
Winnie had laid down beside me. Yep. Definitely going to need a bath tonight. "How was school today?" Winnie went to a pre-school that was luckily covered under my insurance. Perks of being an Omega. I'll take it where and when I can.
She talked about going to the playground and painting. All the usual bits. Who she played with and new things she learned. Then came the question. A question she had asked before in passing. A subject I changed with ease before. 'Have you brushed your teeth? How about another episode of Bluey? Put on your trainers (because we can't just say tennis shoes anymore) and we'll go for a walk to the park. I had skirted around the question with ease.
"Why don't you have a mate if you have a baby?" Winnie was too young to get the answers to a lot of life's difficult questions. Why did Tiffany not like us? Why didn't she get to see her daddy anymore? Why did that man look at you weird on the train, mommy? I wish she would just stay this little. That she never needed or want to know the harsh truths about me, us.
"I..." I wracked my brain for an answer and just came up short. I couldn't think of a way to sugarcoat it. We almost had a mate. Mates. We almost had a pack that would have walked you to school on the mornings my feet were too sore or I was already running late. They would have loved you. "It... it's complicated, Darling." Is what I chose instead. The other worrisome fact is that Winnie was too young to understand the concept about mates. I had never broached the subject which only means she probably heard it from some little shithead at school.
Wonderful.
"I'll explain it when you're older." I promise, closing my eyes and letting her snuggle into the crook of my arm. "Do you wanna rest your eyes with me?"
"Like when I'm five?" She asks putting one of her hands underneath my shirt onto my belly. It had become a thing she had started since I told her about the baby.
"Maybe six." I said, looking down at her. She gave a yawn before closing her eyes.
"I think five is better."
"Okay, Win." I said. "When you're five we'll talk about it." It was a promise I hoped she would forget. But I didn't want to negotiate with a four-year-old about something future me could deal with. I wanted just 15 minutes of this. I order Alexa to set a timer to make sure we haven't dozed too far off. Winnie still needed to shower and eat. I still needed to get the groceries out of the car. But I could spare another 15 minutes.
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Unquenchable
Theodore Nott x reader
Catagory: Fluff, Smut
Warnings: Handjob, dom!reader, they're in looove
Summary: Theodore and her venture down a path they'd never stepped upon. Because of Theodore's insatiable desire and her new night dress.
Words: 3,7k
AN: I have nothing to say. Enjoy.
She could feel his eyes on her, even if he tried to hide them by reading the book resting between his fingers. She didn't know why he was so inclined to always have his eyes on her. Especially when she was only brushing her teeth, lather covering her lips and running down her chin. She didn't look attractive at all.
But what she didn't realize was that the silky, skintight nightgown she wore gave Theodore the perfect view of the behind of her thighs. And the fabric ended right below her behind, teasing Theodore's poor old heart to death.
It was the first she had ever worn something so revealing, especially in front of him. Usually, she buried herself in her brother's old clothes and rags, finding them to be the most comfortable clothing.
And not that she didn't look dashing in those, but this was new territory for Theodore, and he wasn't taking it very well.
His heart was increasingly picking up speed and the apples of his cheeks were burning with either shame or lust, which one he didn't know. He was lucky that the duvet was covering the lower part of his body, otherwise, his desire would be much harder to hide than it already was.
(Name) threw a last, suspicious glance in Theodore's way, noticing his clenched jaw, before leaning over the tap and spitting the remains of the toothpaste out before washing it off her lips. Then she sauntered out of the bathroom, closing the door and absentmindedly rubbing her eye out of exhaustion.
Theodore's eyes were glued to her face as she floated around the room, blowing out the warm candles that were scattered on her many shelves and drawers, slowly inciting the room into a solace of darkness. The only thing helping her see being the last candle on the nightstand, which she waited to blow out.
Instead, she lifted her side of the duvet and crawled under, glowing at the warmth it provided. As an extra procedure turned over to Theodore and efficiently latched onto his bare side, her arm hugging around his torso and her head being buried in between his neck and shoulder.
It wasn't often that they got a chance to be with each other during the night times because of Hogwarts rules and the partition between the boys, girls, and different houses. This is why these moments are always highly appreciated, no matter where, how, or when.
Her nose, lips, and forehead rest comfortably on his pulse point, ears perking at every beat of his heart and bathing in the comfort of being so close to him. She doesn't think about how fast it is beating, or how Theodore's breathing is slightly uneven. Before, when she lay down, she didn't notice how he directed her legs when she wrapped herself around him so that she wouldn't accidentally grace his, at the moment, very sensitive area.
"Are you done reading soon?" She asked, his skin muffling her words and the air tickling his neck. And he raised his arm which he formerly circled her and stroked her hair back, his eyes stuck on the pages. "Only two pages left. Then I'm all yours."
A girlish smile lit up her face and she buried herself even deeper into his neck, not letting Theodore see how easily he made her insides melt and her face heat.
And as promised, after reading the last two pages of the chapter, he closed the book and put it on the floor. And (Name) took the honor of leaving his side and blowing out the last candles, this time letting the room be cast in a shadow.
Theodore eyes were glued on the back of her body as she leaned forwards, and painfully remembered the hard piece of trouble that throbbed between his legs. Before, when she was pushed up against him and his eyes actually could focus on the words in his book, he had forgotten how turned on he was. But it seemed everything she did right now made his pent-up mind turn to the less innocent part of his brain.
(Name) stopped all her movements when a large palm placed itself between her shoulder blades and gently pressed. Not to push her, but to feel her skin, how her muscles moved beneath his hand. The hand travels from its place in the middle of her back, up to her neck. Her arms gained goosebumps when Theodore cupped her neck between his fingers and thumb, fingertips almost reaching to her throat.
A sigh of delight is all she can muster when he rubs circles into her neck, carefully turning her head towards him. His black pupils had taken over his iris, only leaving a rim of his brown-stained, lust-blown eyes. Those eyes were something unfamiliar, something (Name) had never seen before. Not even in their most passionate moments, which to his dismay had only been the hidden snogging in the corner of the school library where she could guarantee that none of her siblings were watching.
The hand behind her neck traveled to her shoulder, and she swallowed when he gently pushed her down into the pillows. And she held her breath and watched with bug eyes as he crawled on top of her, positioning himself between her legs, and laying his arms on either side of her face to keep his body from crushing her.
And he stared at her, intense eyes locking with hers as if they were trying to tell her something, to imply something. And she didn't understand, but the tension in the air made her crazy and she longed to snap it like a twig between her fingers.
She let her hand travel from her side, up to the back of his delicate neck. She mimicked the hold he had on her before, and gently pushed him closer so that she could claim his lips with her own
Warmth and relief spread like wildfire in her stomach when Theodore returned her kiss with more eagerness and power than she had ever seen him do before. A sigh of delight escaped her nose, and she basked in the love Theodore provided for her every day, every minute to every second.
Her arms encircled his neck, and she slowly pulled him closer, letting him rest all his weight on her body. He moaned airily into her mouth, and (Name) saw it as an opportunity to let her tongue invade his mouth. She could feel how he melted against her body as she took control, forcing the kiss to become deeper, more sensual as she massaged his tongue with hers.
Theodore didn't know what to do with himself, for he had never experienced someone taking such control over him. Both body and mind were completely devoted to her and he had no longer any wish to think for himself, only to let her lead him through.
Slowly but surely, she slowed the kiss down, and Theodore found himself frowning when she disconnected their lips entirely. Spit collected on her bottom lip and without breaking their intimate eye contact, he leaned down and sucked the liquid off her lip. A sweet, closed-mouth moan echoed in her throat and Theodore felt how his hardness throbbed in his boxers.
"If you only could understand how absurdly amazing you make me feel." He mumbled with lidded eyes.
Her chest was heaving against his bare one, and she looked at him as if he was the reason for all the good in the world and all the good in her life. His skin erupted in flames and he, once again, leaned down although this time connecting his lips with the column of her throat.
A hand buried itself in her locks and she had no choice but to close her eyes as his lips traveled along her neck, at first only planting innocent pecks, letting his rosy lips leave invisible prints on her skin. Before he found the point right under her jaw and sucked.
"Oh, Theo." She simpered as he sucked, licked, and kissed the space, abusing it as a way of showing his love.
Her words made his hand tighten in her hair, and whilst she loved the attention she was receiving, she wanted to have more control. Theodore needed to be the princess for once. The one who would just stand there and accept the kisses and love. So she slowly enclosed her legs around his hips, squeezing him with her thighs as her hand traveled to his hair.
"You're always so good to me, taking care of me. And I love you so, so much." He sighed shakily into her neck, both because of the praise and also because of his crotch that was now pressed up against hers, and he needed almost all of his control to not grind into her and provide to his inextinguishable thirst for her.
"You own me, you own my body and you're the only thing on my mind." Theodore sucked harder on her neck, teeth grazing the blue area.
"And I own you, Theodore." And it was his downfall. He couldn't help himself but let his hips grind into hers and he grunted at the immense pleasure that spread along his stomach. And after that, he couldn't stop. Like he had been cursed, he continued to push himself against her, a secret fantasy of being inside of her, feeling her walls around his cock pushing him to continue.
"Please." He begged." Please let me make love to you." She almost choked on her tongue at his confession, and that accompanied by the pressure of Theodore's hips grinding into her made her mind foggy.
"I would to have you." A breath got caught in her throat as pressure once more ripped through her body. "But I don't want our first to be in the same house as my parents." The movement of his body came to a slow halt, trying to control himself and respect her wishes. A few playfully pecs were placed on her collarbones and a giggle escaped her lips at the tickling of his lips.
He pulled away from her body and met her eyes, intense gaze making her confidence waver and her body heat soar. Just for a moment, she contemplated to let him have her right in her childhood bed. To let him have his way with her. But with the ounce of self-control left in her body, she stayed in her decision with the knowledge it could bring more problems than pleasure. For him, her, and the rest of the family.
A hard kiss on her lips broke her out of the daze, and Theodore gently rolled off her body, settling at her side with him facing her.
"You sure it's alright?" She asked lightly, fingers tracing the shape of his nose. Her eyes did discreetly look down his body lightly gesturing to his crotch. With fingers under her chin, he lifted her face to his again, this time placing a lighter pec on her forehead.
"I'm sure, I'm here with you that's all I need. Nothing more."
"Are sure? Otherwise, you can-"
"I'm sure, never been more sure." With a gentle smile on her lips, she nodded, eyes fluttering shut when Theodore continued with her previous movements, fingers tracing her nose. "Go to sleep."
But she couldn't sleep. It was impossible. Butterflies were racing against her inner organs, in her belly and other places she had never felt the tickling feeling in. Her entire body was buzzing. Just the thought of her making the boy next to her so troubled, in a good way, was thrilling. Because he's Theodore, the attractive, brilliant, and kind Slytherin who everyone wanted to be or to be with. And he chooses her.
The boy next to her shuffled in the bed, body turning so his back faced her. She played as still as possible so he wouldn't notice her being awake, or to wake him for that matter.
But just when she was sure he was sound asleep, he sat up in the bed, throwing his legs over the edge and her heart beat in worry when his head hung lowly into his hands. She was about to lay a comforting hand on his back but he stood up before she had the time.
"Theo?" She asked and he turned around, startled by her voice. "You okay?"
A smile lit his face and he kneeled before her, kissing her lips quickly. "Just going to the bathroom." Even though her room was dark, the moonlight revealed an unmistakable redness on the apples of his cheeks and she looked down to see his problem still present, and once again her body erupted in a buzz.
Before he could walk away, she grabbed his hand, stopping him. He looked at her with a question in his eyes, and she looked away in shyness.
"I can- I can help you if you want?" Her big eyes raked over his face, waiting for an answer while his face displayed a handful of different emotions.
"You don't have to, I don't want to force you." She flushed at his gentleness, but couldn't dismiss the new, lustful edge in his voice.
"I want to help you. Alright? I want you." When he didn't say anything, she tugged his hand towards her, enough so one of his knees met the mattress.
"Do you want me too?" Her voice took a change and her eyes searched in his. As an answer, Theodore grabbed her throat and pulled her into a searing kiss, tongue licking over her lips when he pulled away.
"I want you to, need you, truly." And he was about to go into a second kiss, but she stopped him with a finger to his lips.
"Good. But on one condition." He listened idly, lips kissing on the pad of her finger. "You have to be quiet, at all cost. You can't make a sound, if you do I'll have to stop."
She gently positioned him on his back, brain going ten miles on hour at the newfound confidence, at the newfound domination. He nodded slowly and his eyes were hooded with the lust of anticipation.
Thedore was a naturally dominant person per se. In their relationship, in his life, and in his friend group. With a hand on her back, he guided her the way he wanted, and with the preeminence in his voice, she found it hard to deny him. But now, with his panting chest and pleading puppy dog eyes, she wondered where Theodore went, without complaining of course.
With shaky hands and Theodore's eyes intently on her, she reached for the edge of his underwear, fingers picking at his waistband. Her knees clenched together when Thedore put both his arms behind his head, face shining with confidence. And in the most loving way possible, a small part of her wanted to break it down.
Slowly, she pulled the underwear down, with the help of Theodore raising his hips. When she laid eyes on his crotch, she swallowed and looked at Theodore, who had his lip in his teeth.
As if he could see her hesitation, he gave her a nod. "It's okay, Lovie, you can touch me."
And in pure curiousness, she let the tips of her fingers run up his length, feeling the warmth emitting from his body. A gasp made way from his mouth and he threw his head into the pillow. In fear of believing she hurt him, she pulled back, hand landing on his thigh.
"Theo? Sorry did I hurt you? I didn't mean to." She stressed, massaging his thigh in comfort. But he only shook his head, trying to slow his increased breath.
"No, no don't stop." His voice cracked pitifully as he pleaded, but she wasn't convinced.
"Theo Im not su-"
"Please for the love of Merlin, touch me. I swear I'm going to explode." The doubt was replaced with fire in her entire body. And she did the same movement again, running her fingers up his length.
Once again, a gasp escaped his lips, and a rare, blissful expression covered his face. His eyebrows scrunched upwards and a small smile on his open mouth.
And she wanted more of this reaction, craved it even. So she continued to run her fingertips up and down, biting her lip to hide her smile at his panting and puffing.
"Come on, love, I know you can do more than that." He didn't. But she could do more. She met his eyes, who were intently, expectantly staring into her. Like he was daring her. Holding his eye, she took a loose grip on his cock, doing an experimental stroke.
His eyes snapped to where his body met her hands, and a small, low moan forced itself from his lips. So low she almost missed it, but she's glad she didn't. She forced her thighs together, rocking back and forth as she began to twist her wrist to give Theo relief along with herself.
He only continues to stare at her moving hand, his stomach and thighs flexing with pleasure. And she notices, of course, she does, and lets her free land on the place connecting his pelvis and thigh, slowly massaging it to get him relaxed. It does quite the opposite.
He throws his head back, straight into the pillow. "Fuck." He whispers as one of his hands clenches around the sheet.
Without even meaning to, she speeds up her hand movements, her body reacting automatically to his pleasure. And he bucks into her hand at the new feeling, a groan, louder than before resonated pleasantly in her ear.
"Merlin, shit what the fuck are you doing to me." He moaned desperately, taking satisfaction in her warm palm, in the intense feeling in his pelvis and length. In his entire body. It was like he was high.
She giggled lightly, bashfully continuing her stroking without a notion of how the sound affected him.
An idea formed in her head, a memory of a knowledge Theo himself revealed not long ago at all. She took her other hand, which was stroking his thigh, and gripped it above the hand on his lenght, and let her thumb run over his tip, using a little pressure
And Theodore let out a moan, a borderline whine. And it didn't stop.
She continued the abuse on his tip, along with rapid strokes of his length, and different types of whines, groans and moans left him, one after one. And they were loud, too loud.
"Shhh, Theo you need to quiet down." Deep down she knew he wouldn't, especially with her continued stimulation of his cock.
"Can't- Fuck. I can't, I can't." He cried head tilted down to take a peek at her hands. Bad Idea as his length throbbed in her hands, sending him into a new fit of moans.
So she stopped. Only as an attempt to quiet him.
But it left him unsatisfied and searching for stimulation, violently continuing to buck his hips for any kind of friction, sounds of complaint echoing in the room.
"Theo you said you could be quiet, so be quiet!" She whisper-yelled desperately, pushing his hips to still with one of her hands. But he just couldn't be quiet.
Now, he was instead whining over the lack of stimulation, thrashing his head from side to side at the lost feeling.
"Theo for the love of good shut up." At the sudden stern tone, he shut his mouth and turned to her, big puppy dog eyes staring at her with admiration.
They sat quietly as she listened after a single sound. But luckily, there was none. And she could let her shoulders relax.
"Good job Theo." She smiled, and pecked his lips, him chasing after her when she sat straight again.
The pace of her hands picked up again, and Theodore tried his utmost to keep his sounds down. But it was so difficult.
And he thought he would be able to hold himself quiet until her hands sped up greatly.
She watched with awe in her eyes as his eyes rolled back into his head, his hips vigorously meeting her wrist as he fucked her hand, moans of her name and whined curses fleeing his pink lips.
"Fuck. I th-think." His head arched into the mattress, interrupting his sentence with a moan. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-im-" She panicked as his voice took a turn for the loudest, and without thinking she slapped her hand over his mouth, although with a force that pushed his head further into the pillow.
His entire body twitched violently at the harsh gesture, and his eyelashes fluttered when white-hot pleasure overtook his entire life.
Without meaning to, he threw his hand over the one covering his mouth, gripping it tight as the other squeezed her thigh in a bruising grip. And he came with a long, guttural moan, straight into her hand as she continued to stroke him through his high. And she didn't stop, not until his body had stopped convulsing completely.
When he was done, his chest was heaving as he chipped for air, and she placed a concerned and clean hand on his chest, rubbing it slowly.
"You need to slow your breathing, don't need you to faint on me after that." He nodded lightly, head too heavy for anything else. He took her hand and bullied his breathing to a normal pace, even if it burned his lungs.
He forced his eyelids open, and her body, once again, flushed at the half-lidded look he gave her. As if she hung the moon and stars for him.
But, what he didn't know was she had a last trick up her sleeve. She raised her dirty hand to his lips and slowly and carefully licked every bit of him left on her hand.
Theodore let out a small gasp, and his handanded on her thigh massaging it to the erotic picture, fighting another hard-on with his life.
She leaned down and was about to connect her tongue to his lower abdomen, ready to lick the cum of his godly body. But she only had time to graze him before he took her cheeks in his hands, squeezing them while lifting her head in distress
"No no no!" He stressed, and she started at him with, big, questioning eyes." Fuck. I love you, but you're gonna get yourself another piece of trouble if I let you continue." A laugh of surprise jumped in her chest, looking down at her lap, her body warm and humble.
"Youre seriously amazing, you know that right." He breathed out, a smile in his voice. And a chuckle bumbled in her throat, head hazy with bliss.
She kissed his palm. "And I love you, lovie."
-----
So... That happened
#theodore nott x reader#fanfiction#one shot#x reader#theo nott x reader#theo x reader#theo imagine#theodore nott fluff#theodore nott smut#theodore nott imagine#Sub!theodore#Sub!theo#Dom!reader#theodore nott x fem!reader#Harry potter#the weasleys#Smut#Fluff#writing#fred weasley#george weasly x reader#ron weasley#hermoine granger#ginny weasley#Weasley!reader#half blood prince#lorenzo zurzulo#Nott x reader#albus dumbledore#pansy parkinson
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The stalker - Muzan & Reader
Warnings: modern AU, non-con smut (partially), somnophilia, rough smut, reverse 69, choking, stalker!Muzan, p in v smut, stalking, dark themes
Synopsis: living your ordinary life, little do you know that your every move is being silently and carefully watched by a man who has taken an interest in you. He is ready to do anything to claim you as his property
Requested by: anonymous
Wordcount: ~ 4.2k
MASTERLIST
It began with subtle occurrences, almost insignificant at first. Instances that didn't raise much concern or feel particularly peculiar. Doors that were once closed would be found ajar in the morning, leaving a lingering sense of doubt. You would wake up, finding yourself in a different position than the one you remember falling asleep in. Your dresser drawer, specifically the one where you kept your undergarments, would often be in disarray. And lately, upon awakening, you noticed your face dampened by traces of drool. Naturally, you attributed these incidents to exhaustion from juggling your college studies and late-night job, dismissing them as mundane.
However, as time progressed, unsettling events began to unfold. It was during one of those moments when you were seated on your bed in your underwear that unknown numbers flashed across your phone screen, accompanied by text messages that pierced through your sense of security. "You look so stunning."
Initially, you dismissed those messages, assuming they were mere notifications from your Instagram account sent to your phone. It seemed like an innocuous occurrence, easily brushed aside. At first, they arrived sporadically, appearing only once a month. Yet, as time passed, their frequency multiplied, transitioning to twice a month and now occurring nearly every other night. The content of these messages took a disturbing turn, growing increasingly specific and disquieting, causing a deep sense of unease to settle within you.
"Drive home safe."
As you prepared to leave work, the unsettling message arrived once again, this time just as you were about to embark on your drive home. A wave of
apprehension washed over you, causing you to remain seated in the empty parking lot, cautiously scanning your surroundings for any signs of a presence. To your relief, there were no other cars in sight, and your coworkers had long departed for their respective homes. Despite the fear creeping within you, you chose to delete the message, attributing it to a potential prank from one of your mischievous coworkers.
Driving home, you pulled into the parking garage of your apartment building. Stepping out of your car, an eerie sensation enveloped you, a nagging feeling that someone's eyes were fixated on your every move. Instinctively, you halted and swiftly turned, hoping to catch a glimpse of the observer. Yet, the scene that greeted you was one of silence and emptiness, devoid of any visible presence. Shaking off the unease, you attributed the disconcerting feeling to the stress accumulated from your demanding schedule of school and work. In an attempt to lighten the tension, you giggled softly, convincing yourself that it was all in your imagination, before resuming your stride towards the elevator.
Entering your apartment, a sense of relief washed over you as you finally arrived at the sanctuary of your own space. However, as you began to settle in, the disarray of your belongings caught your attention. The drawer where you kept your panties remained open, a chaotic mess within. Recollecting the hurriedness of your morning routine, you swiftly closed the drawer, intending to address the mess later. Shrugging off the unsettling occurrence, you proceeded to undress, casually discarding your clothes onto the floor, and made your way to the bathroom.
With the water running, you allowed your bath to fill, seeking solace in its soothing embrace. As you eased into the warmth, the events of the day lingered in your mind, a subtle reminder of the uncanny incidents that had unfolded. However, immersed in the tranquility of the moment, you hoped that the relaxing waters would wash away the lingering unease, allowing you to find respite from the disquieting experiences that had punctuated your day.
You sat there in the silence, your apartment's ambient sounds merging with the gentle subsiding of the water in your bath. The soothing warmth caressed your tired body, lulling you into a state of drowsiness. Yielding to the tranquility, you closed your eyes, surrendering to relaxation. However, amidst the peacefulness, a distinct sound reached your ears — footsteps, unmistakably within the confines of your own apartment.
Startled, you swiftly sat up, instinctively crossing your arms to cover your breasts, and voiced your presence aloud, "Hello?!" The silence that followed offered no response, but the mysterious footsteps ceased their approach. Shaking your head, you muttered to yourself in a hushed tone, "Stupid. It's probably your neighbor's kids running down the hall again." Dismissing the unease that had momentarily enveloped you, you carried on with your bath, eventually finishing and stepping out of the water. As the last remnants drained away, you turned around, enveloping yourself and your damp hair in towels.
Leaving the bathroom, you made your way to the bedroom and settled onto your bed. Glancing at your phone, you noticed a new message and tapped to read it. "Your laugh is so cute." The words on the screen caught your attention, evoking a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty, as a flicker of discomfort ran through you. You stared at the message wide-eyed, your mind racing with uncertainty about its meaning. Did it imply that someone had overheard your laughter at work? Were they possibly a classmate? Or perhaps they had been lurking in the parking garage earlier. The weight of the unknown hung heavy upon you, prompting you to abruptly jump out of bed and hastily make your way to the front door.
With a sense of trepidation, you peered through the peephole, scanning the dimly lit hallway as best as you could. No signs of anyone in sight — no figures walking past, no individuals lingering outside. You double-checked the locks on your door, giving it a forceful tug to ensure its secure fastening. Satisfied that the entrance was indeed locked, you made your way back into your room, feeling a slight relief wash over you.
Preparing for bed, you attended to your nightly routine, diligently drying your hair, brushing it out, cleansing your face, and meticulously brushing your teeth. Slipping into your favorite sleepwear — a loosely buttoned plaid shirt sans a bra, accompanied by a pair of comfortable white panties — you settled down in bed. Glancing at your phone one last time before your heavy eyelids succumbed to sleep, you reasoned that the bath you had taken earlier had taken its toll on your fatigue, compounded by the arduous efforts you had put into your work.
Unbeknownst to you, the sounds of your bedroom door opening and the soft, calculated footsteps approaching your bedside went unnoticed, concealed beneath the veil of your slumber. Standing above you was a figure, their countenance obscured by a black ski mask, their hands adorned with black latex gloves. Clad in a black short-sleeved shirt, dark blue denim jeans, and black boots, they silently observed your peaceful rest, their breathing growing increasingly labored. Then, with measured steps, they retreated, briefly illuminating the bathroom light to obtain a clearer view of your form as you slept.
The light from the bathroom was just enough for him to see, but not bright enough to wake you up. Muzan walked back over beside your bed and reached down for your blanket. Gently pulling it up and off of you, so Muzan could see you. He stood there and looked you up and down; he grabbed the growing bulge in his pants and gave it a squeeze. Muzan stared at your nearly naked body and noticed your unbuttoned shirt, he slowly reached down and gently pulled your shirt up till it fell to the side.
He saw that you had decided not to wear a bra tonight and decided to be a little bold. Reaching down, Muzan cupped your breast in his large hand. The black-haire man gently squeezed, which caused you to stir, freezing him in place. As you started to settle, Muzan squeezed and rubbed your breast more and more. Noticing your nipple starting to get hard, Muzan pinched it between his fingers and gently started to pull. This got more of a reaction out of you as you let out a tiny moan before stirring once again.
He pulled his hand away and stepped back, undoing his belt, unzipping his pants, and reaching into them as he pulled out his cock. Gripping his cock in his hand, Muzan started to stroke himself, grunting quietly as he watched over you. As precum oozed out the tip of his cock, it covered his hand and smeared his cock as Muzan rubbed it up and down. Muzan stepped forward and put one knee on the bed, positioning himself over you. Muzan stroked himself over your chest, grunting and groaning silently as he reached his climax. Unable to stop himself, he started shooting thick, hot ropes of cum onto your chest.
This didn't wake you up, and this made him smile and made him more bold. Muzan reached his hand between your legs and gently pressed his fingertips against you. He brushed his fingertips against the cloth of your panties as he pushed down. Muzan rubbed you up and down through your panties, watching your face as your body began to react on its own. You started breathing harder, your face began to express pleasure as your eyes shut tighter and your mouth started to open. You let out soft moans between breaths as your body reacted to his touch.
He could feel you starting to heat up from his touch on his fingertips. Muzan started to press down firmer, finding your clit when you let out a louder moan as his fingers brushed up against it. Muzan started to rub your clit in circles as he watched you react more and more. You started panting harder and harder as Muzan rubbed your clit and pussy more and more until you couldn't handle it anymore and came. You let out a loud moan as your body shook from your orgasm.
He smiled, watching you tremble and shake, but that smile slowly faded. You started to wake up, your eyes opened and shut as you tried to adjust to the dimly lit room. All you saw was a large shadow standing above your bed. Your eyes opened wide, and your mouth opened as you started to scream. Before you could let out a louder scream, Muzan jumped on top of you and covered your mouth with his hand. He pulled his free hand to his face and motioned for you to shush.
You started to cry from that situation, a large man pinning you down on your bed and keeping you from calling for help. You tried to move, but you didn't know what was wrong. Was it his weight keeping you from moving, or were you paralyzed from fear? All you could do was stare up at him, your eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room. In a dim light, you could see he was a very handsome man, and that he seemed not too old but that terrified you even more because you had no idea who he could be. Your eyes started to burn from the tears welling up, and your body shook out of fear.
"Shhh. Don't scream. If you scream, I'll have to hurt you, and I don't want to do that," Muzan said to you, his voice deep and his tone stern. The grip Muzan had over your mouth was tight, and he pushed down on you. His body weight kept you pinned underneath him. You felt something else pressed against your stomach. It was hard, a little wet, and you could feel it twitching against your bare skin. As you lifted your head just enough to look down, you could see it was his cock pressing against your stomach. You laid your head back down and stared at him, your eyes even wider after seeing his cock.
"If you behave, I won't hurt you, but if you try to fight back or scream. I'm going to hurt you and I'm going to hurt you badly. Do you understand me?" He asked you, leaning down a little, his tone still stern, and his voice deep. You stared back up at him and slowly nodded.
Muzan pulled his hand off your mouth as he leaned away from your face, his body still sitting on top of you, and his cock now rested on your stomach.
You wiped the tears away from your face. You noticed your shirt was opened, so you covered yourself back up as you looked up at him. "W-what do you want?" you asked him, trying to put up a tough act, but it failed as your voice trembled.
"You. All I've ever wanted is you. And now I have you and no one can stop me." Muzan said that to you, his tone changing as he stared at you. Muzan adjusted his legs, grabbed each of your legs, and spread them, so he could be between them. Muzan was strong and easily moved you around like a doll. You were powerless to stop him as he positioned himself between your legs. He grabbed his cock and started to stroke himself, precum oozed from the tip and dripped onto your stomach. As you looked down at his dick, you could see that he was packing a monster. It was as thick as a soda can and almost as long as your forearm.
Before you could even beg him to stop, Muzan pulled your panties to the side and pressed the tip of his cock against your pussy. You gripped your sheets tight in your hands as you gritted your teeth together from the pain. You could feel the tip of his cock beginning to push inside you, spreading your pussy like it had never been spread before. You let out pained gasps for air as you stared up at the ceiling, eyes opened wide. You could hear him groaning as Muzan pushed in slowly, and from under his breath, you could hear him say. "Fuck... you're so tight."
Every inch felt like hell, his cock was so thick it filled you up almost instantly. As Muzan inched in deeper, you tried to catch your breath, but the pain made it hard as you gasped for air. Finally, his cock was inside you completely, and you could finally breathe as you lifted your head and looked down. You could see your stomach bulging from his cock. You dropped your head back as your mind started to go blank from the pain slowly turning into intense pleasure.
The pleasure was cut short as Muzan started to slide his cock out, slowly. You let out a pained scream, but all that came out was an inaudible squeal. Muzan looked down at you with a smile, your mouth open was an irresistible invitation. Muzan leaned down and gave you a kiss, forcing his tongue inside your mouth, sloppily swirling his tongue around inside your mouth, his saliva mixing with yours. You didn't fight back as you closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into the kiss even more.
His cock continued to slide out of your pussy inch by inch, it felt as if he was pulling your insides out as he continued to pull out. Eventually reaching the tip of his cock, he stopped, as he continued to kiss you. Muzan pulled away from the kiss and looked down at you, a string of spit connecting your lips. "Here we go, baby, it's going to get real rough. So hold on tight," Muzan said to you with a loving smile. This was his warning, but it didn't prepare you for what was going to happen next.
You felt his cock thrust inside you in one quick motion. Your stomach felt full again and you couldn't breathe. You stared up at him in pained ecstasy. Muzan slid out again and quickly thrust back inside you. He pounded your pussy with body-shaking thrusts, making it hard to think or speak. All that came out were loud moans and garbled words that made no sense.
It didn't take you long to cum, but black-haired continued to fuck you through your orgasm. The waves of pleasure mixed with searing pain made your brain melt. You could hear his balls slapping against your wet cunt, the sound of your pussy being stirred up by his monster cock, and his moans. You looked up at him and saw his face, Muzan was happy.
You felt his hands grab you by the throat, they were large and easily fit around your throat. Then Muzan started to squeeze hard, choking you. You grabbed his wrists and weakly tried to pull them off, but it was no use. He was much stronger than you and his grip was tight. You tried to tell him to stop, but nothing came out, and soon you started to gasp for air. Gripping his wrists with your nails now, you tried to dig in to get him to stop. Your vision went blurry as you started to lose consciousness, your eyes welled up in tears, hoping this would end. Your body betrayed you again as you started to cum violently on his cock, squirting and making a mess on your bed.
Your stomach filled with heat as his cock swelled inside you, and his thrusts became more erratic and rough. As you started to black out, you could feel the hot sensation of his cock cumming inside you. Muzan thrust deep inside as he started to cum, filling your cunt with his thick, hot seed. Muzan let out a loud groan, maintaining his tight grip around your throat as your body went limp and you blacked out. He finished cumming inside you, sliding his cock out of your ruined pussy. His hands released your throat as he got off of you. Muzan smiled as he watched your gaping hole ooze out his cum onto the bed.
He got off the bed and stretched. This had been way better than he thought it was going to be. Muzan didn't want to stop there, and it seemed his cock felt the same way. It bounced as it throbbed and got hard again. Muzan looked over at you and watched your passed-out body. Muzan had already gone this far, so there was no real point in stopping. He grabbed your body and adjusted you on the bed, hanging your head off the edge. Muzan stroked his cock and positioned himself as he pressed his cock against your lips.
It didn't take much for you to open your mouth as his cock slid in easily with no protest from you. Your mouth gaped open and struggled to take him fully. Muzan fit himself in your mouth as much as he could, gently thrusting as he started to fuck your face. Muzan got on top of you and ripped your panties off in one quick motion. Using his large hands, Muzan spread open your legs as he went down on you. He started to eat you out passionately as he fucked your face. Muzan could taste his own cum mixed with yours as his tongue forced its way inside you. You moaned happily as he enjoyed the pussy he had been looking at for months.
You slowly started to regain consciousness, and to your horror, you could feel your mouth filled with this large rod. Your eyes opened and blinked as you lay there in shocked horror. You tried to push him away with your hands against his thighs, but again Muzan easily overpowered you. You could feel your pussy being eaten out, but the pain of your throat being fucked confused you again. You couldn't say a word because you were so focused on trying to breathe. His cock filled your mouth and went down your throat over and over.
Your face became a mess as your tears and drool mixed. His cock, which had scared you before, started to taste good, and your tongue moved on its own as you licked his shaft. Your brain again started to shut down as the pain and pleasure mixed, and you couldn't even collect your thoughts. You could feel his cock grow in your mouth, and you realized what was going to happen next, but you didn't have a choice in this. You were just along for the ride as Muzan forced his cock down your throat and shot his cum down it. The man used you as his cum dump, filling your tummy with his hot, thick seed. Your pussy clamped around his tongue as you started to cum again, your thighs squeezing his head, while the only noise you made was a muffled, messy squeal.
He pulled his cock out of your mouth and stroked himself, shooting out the last strings of cum on your face. You looked like a mess, your face covered in tears, drool, and cum. You just lay there, catching your breath, but Muzan wasn't done. He picked you up in his arms and easily moved you around. You were nothing but a doll to him, and he was going to do whatever he wanted with you. Picking you up, Muzan tossed you back on the bed, on your stomach. You didn't fight back; it was pointless, you realized, as you just let it happen. He grabbed your ankles and pulled your legs off the bed.
He kicked your legs open and positioned himself behind you. You didn't get a moment to rest as you felt his cock gaping your sore pussy again. This position felt so different; you could feel his cock scraping your insides as Muzan stirred you up. He leaned down and reached his hand around your throat, pulling your head back, forcing you to look up at him as he pounded your pussy. Muzan slammed your body into the mattress over and over. You didn't fight back; you just moaned like the good little slut he was training you to be. You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, inviting him to kiss you.
He smiled and leaned down, kissing you. Your tongues wrestled and swirled around in each other's mouths. You moaned into his mouth as you felt your pussy being ruined by his cock. You could feel his throbbing dick pushing in deeper than before. Your hands gripped the sheets tight as you braced yourself against the bed. You heard your pussy being stirred up by his cock as his balls slapped against you, filling the room with their lewd sounds. You loved feeling his tongue in your mouth and his low, bestial growls echoing as Muzan grunted and groaned.
His cock continued its endless pounding as it fucked you senseless once again. You started to moan out loud and yelled, "Fuck! Fuck! More!"
He smiled at your brainless request, putting one hand on your hand and pushing you down into your mattress as he stood back up. You felt his hands grip your hips tight, and then it happened. Muzan started fucking you furiously, his cock pounding your pussy over and over. Your bed started to shake and pound into the floor. You clung to the bed with whatever strength you felt like you had left. This merciless assault just made you scream and beg for more.
You were nothing but a toy in his hands as Muzan pulled you into him while fucking you. You couldn't help but cum over and over again, squirting on his cock and making a mess on your floor as you squirted and leaked his cum out onto the floor. It didn't take him long to reach his limit as Muzan started to shout, forcing his cock deep inside you, forcing the air out of you as he filled you with his seed once again. It felt warm in your belly, and you lay there with your mouth wide open, but not a single sound came out.
"May I at least have your name?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of curiosity and alarm. "And who the fuck are you? How did you get into my house?" The words escaped your lips, fueled by a surge of fear and disbelief.
His red eyes bore into yours, and a smirk played at the corners of their lips. The silence stretched, thick with tension, before they finally spoke, their voice laced with a hint of amusement. "My name is not important. What matters is that I got what I’ve been craving for months. But if you need to know, I go by Muzan," he said cryptically, his words sending shivers down your spine. “I would be back again. Leave your front door open," the man added, and after adjusting his clothes, he left your house through the front door, leaving you filled up and leaking his cum.
You slept the night away and woke up sore and even more tired, reflecting on how the night had gone and finding yourself wet at the thought.
From then on, you left your front door open, anticipating your "stalker" to pay you another visit. The longing in your soul grew with each passing day, and you wondered if Muzan would ever come back to claim you once again.
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