#it doesn’t FEEL like christmas but i don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like yfm | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

smileysuh · 4 months

Text

christmas puppy

🌙 staring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “God, you’re so jealous,” you laugh. Your best friend’s brother doesn’t usually act this way, at his frat, everyone knows you’re his, no one would dare come near you- but here, in your hometown, surrounded by past crushes and would be romancables, it’s open season, and it’s clear that it’s making Jaehyun uncomfortable.

tw/cw. multiple sex scenes, airplane sex, best friend's brother Jae touching reader while his sister is drunk/asleep next to them, fingering, multiple orgasms, phone sex, dirty talk, praise, slight stalking/use of snapmaps to obsess over a crush, jealousy, unprotected sex, Jae is a munch, sibling antics, 'loser' jae, exhibitionism, directed masturbation, etc… I pet names: (hers) angel. (his) puppy.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 11k

🍭 aus. uni/frat au, best friend's brother Jae, boy next door Jae, Christmas, secret romance, established relationship, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. It's the way I'm kind of in love with him, he's so stupidly soft

Prologue

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” you groan as your best friend’s brother slips his hand under your shirt, pressing you tighter against the door of his frathouse bedroom.

“You’re right,” Jaehyun concedes, but his lips continue their fevered pace against your throat, and his thumb brushes by your nipple, making you moan louder.

“Your sister-”

“Never has to know,” he finishes for you.

He pinches your nipple gently and it has you whining, your panties growing wetter by the second. But it’s only a brief distraction before your mind is spinning again. “We need to stop,” you say, but in the same sentence, you reach between your bodies to palm Jaehyun’s cock through his jeans.

“We can stop,” Jaehyun nods, finally pulling away from your neck to look you in the eyes. “Tell me to stop.”

You stare at the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. The man you grew up with. The older brother of your best friend, the boy next door. He’d been at the center of all your fantasies in high school- but you’d never thought you’d actually end up in this situation with him… repeatedly.

You can’t say no, and you both know it.

Jaehyun smirks, a pretty dimple on display, and then he’s smashing his lips to yours. His hands wrap around your waist, and he tosses you onto his bed. By the time he’s kissed down your body and lifted up your skirt, all your objections have dissipated from your mind.

There’s only you and Jaehyun, and right now, that’s all that matters.

One

“I’m literally dying to see you,” Nari grins the moment you open Facetime.

You laugh, setting your textbook aside. “You’re seeing me now.”

“Don’t be like that,” Nari rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Christmas! Just a few more exams, and by this time two weeks from now, we’ll be making cookies and Christmas shopping and watching movies and hitting on cute boys at the skating rink-”

You smile at the thought, although your heart picks up speed at the mention of boys.

“I hear Mark Lee is going to be home for Christmas, and so is his cousin Jeno- I’m thinking, if we play our cards right, maybe we can swing a double date, or we could invite them to my family Christmas party and see what happens under the mistletoe!” Nari continues.

“Are you still crushing on Mark?” you laugh, shocked that her infatuation with her old high school crush is still alive and well despite going to a different uni than the resident hockey prodigy.

“Of course!” Nari’s expression falls. “Wait, aren’t you still into Jeno?”

“Honestly?” You take a deep breath. “We’ve done a whole term at our new universities, and I feel like it would be better for me to find someone here. Long distance isn’t my thing.”

“Well, in that case… I suppose I can talk to my brother and have him set you up with one of his frat friends,” - the thought of Jaehyun setting you up with anyone other than himself is almost comical, and you have to fight the laugh that bubbles inside of you - “actually, that brings me to the reason I called! I know you and Jae were going to leave to fly home around the same time, but it turns out you booked the same flight- what are the odds huh?”

Your heart skips a beat again. You hadn’t thought much of telling Jaehyun your flight time three nights ago after he’d fucked you stupid- hadn’t realized there might be an ulterior motive to his question.

Of course he’d get the same flight as you.

You’ve been sleeping together for just over two months now, and the fratboy always has a way of ending up in the same room as you- although, he’d been using Snapchat maps to do it originally.

The man is obsessed- and you kind of love it.

You’d mentioned wanting to join the mile-high club to him the fourth time you’d hooked up, when you’d discussed sex bucket lists, but you’d never imagined he would remember it- or try to put it into practice.

“Anyways, I know you two aren’t close,” Nari explains, “but I thought you might want to coordinate with him, and when you land, I can pick you both up from the airport, save your mom a trip.”

You swallow thickly before nodding. “That would be nice.”

It would be nice… but it won’t be easy.

You’re shocked you’ve even kept your little secret this long, and you’re dreading what it will be like once you’re in person with your best friend. Hiding the fact that you’re fucking her brother while at uni with him is one thing, doing it in front of Nari will be another.

Two

“I know what’s making you tense,” Jaehyun says, pulling his face from between your thighs and straightening to stare down at you.

“Exam season?” you suggest, mind half occupied with the final you have tomorrow.

“You’ve had big tests before and it’s never taken this long to make you cum,” Jaehyun scoffs. “Not that I mind, of course,” he leans down to press a quick kiss to your lips, adjusting on top of you while his cock slides between your wet pussy lips, teasing you. “You’re worried about seeing Nari.”

“Are you seriously going to talk about her while you put your cock in me?” you laugh, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

“I’m not inside you yet,” he grins, pausing his grinding movements.

“And I hate that you’re not,” you groan, your core still throbbing from the orgasm he’d just given you with his tongue.

“Be for real with me for a moment,” Jaehyun urges, leaning down to press his lips to your throat. “Is it really the worst thing in the world if Nari finds out about us?”

“Puppy-”

“It’s been two months. We’ve been fucking for two months, angel. I know you don’t like to use official terms but come on… you know what we are to each other. Isn’t Christmas the best time to tell everyone?”

“Tell them what? That we’re fucking?”

“Don’t make me use the G word, because I will,” he warns.

“The G word?” you fake innocence.

With a low groan, Jaehyun pushes his cock into you. “Christmas is the best time to tell everyone that you’re my girlfriend.”

“Is that what I am?” you tease, although your stomach erupts in butterflies at the notion.

Jaehyun tangles his fingers with yours, pressing them against the pillows while he begins to thrust into you. “Uh huh.”

“You’re so soft, puppy.”

“I’m actually really hard,” he smirks, looking down at you with mischievous eyes. “No one makes me hard like you do.”

You laugh. “How romantic.”

“Look-” he swallows thickly, holding your hands tighter while rutting into you, “we’re flying home together- Nari might guess it even if we don’t tell her.”

“If you look at me the way you’re looking at me right now, it will be kind of obvious,” you admit.

Jaehyun has taken to staring at you like a lovesick puppy, and your new uni friends are the first ones who pointed it out to you. At the time, you’d assumed they were being crazy- when you’d first started fucking Jaehyun, you’d thought he’d always just be your best friend’s hot older brother. You’d had no way of ever anticipating that he’d fall for you as hard as he has.

“So we should just tell her,” Jaehyun suggests.

“What if I want to keep you as my dirty little secret?” you sigh. “Just for a bit longer.”

You can feel his hot breath against your face, can see that he’s not happy with the idea, but he nods anyway. “Whatever you want, angel.”

“Thank you, puppy.”

Lifting your head off the pillows, you press your lips to Jaehyun’s, and that’s the last you have to say on the matter before getting lost in him.

Three

“Fuck, angel,” Jaehyun groans, digging his fingers into your thighs while your panting and muffled moans fill the small airplane bathroom, “I don’t know how I’m going to go five days without this.”

You can only groan against his palm, eyes rolling into the back of your head while he fucks you harder. Your own fingers work your clit, and your pussy is clinging desperately to his cock.

You’re already on the edge- Jae had been teasing you under your blanket at your seats, and the exhibitionism of this whole situation has your heart racing a million beats a minute.

“I’m sure we can find some time for a few quickies, right?” Jaehyun asks, and you can hear the desperation in his voice. “My sister isn’t going to hog you the whole time-”

You open your eyes, giving Jaehyun a warning look. It’s cute that he’s so worried about his sister- but you hate when he brings her up while balls deep inside your wet pussy- your orgasm so close you can almost taste it-

“Fuck, yeah, you’re right- shit,” Jaehyun gives his head a small shake. “We’ll make this work,” he insists, taking his hand from your mouth so he can crash his lips to your own, fucking you even harder.

It’s a wonder that the whole airplane isn’t rocking with the intensity of his thrusts, and you nearly have a heart attack when the plane hits turbulence just as you both cum.

You cling to each other, shaking with emotion as the small bathroom jolts and rumbles.

The plane steadies out and Jaehyun smiles into your kiss, laughing a little at the way you’d both reacted.

“We should get back to our seats,” he whispers.

“You go out first, I’ll be there in a sec,” you nod, allowing him to help you back onto your feet.

Your legs feel like jelly, and with one final press of his lips to your own, Jaehyun pulls up his sweats and then slips out of the airplane bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts and anxieties.

Four

“Seriously, I should be pulling my own bag,” you say for the third time since Jaehyun had lifted your luggage off the carousel.

“You’ve got a bag,” he grins, eying the duffle over your shoulder.

“When Nari sees this, she’s going to know something is up.”

“Maybe she’ll think I’m just being a good brother,” Jaehyun points out. “Besides, she won’t know I pulled your bag through the airport. She’ll just show up with her car, and watch me put your stuff in the trunk. That’s not so bad, is it?”

You suppose he’s right, but your nerves are getting the better of you.

It’s hard to stand so close to Jaehyun without latching onto his side. It’s cold out too, and your jacket is fine, but you know Jaehyun is warmer- know that if you were to sneak your hands under his parka and touch his perfect abs, you’d heat up in no time-

“There she is,” Jaehyun tells you, eying the line of cars waiting to pull up for a brief stop in front of the terminal.

Nari has brought her family Range Rover, and soon the boxy SUV is coming to a stop in front of you. Your best friend jumps out of the driver’s seat, running around the large car to throw her arms around you.

She belts out your name as she embraces you, the fur hood of her jacket tickling your nose. You can’t help but smile, melting into the hug.

“I can’t believe you’re finally here!” Nari grins, pulling away to get a good look at you. “It’s been way too long, babes!”

You hear a small scoff, and you turn to see Jaehyun already busy at work putting your luggage in the back of the SUV.

“I missed you too, Jae,” Nari calls. “But this is my best friend, excuse me for welcoming her first.”

“I didn’t say anything,” the dimpled frat boy smirks, and you’re struck by the beauty of Jeong genes. Both siblings have perfect black hair, perfect little dimples that pop out when they smile, and perfect brown eyes that are always full of admiration when they look at someone they care about.

After one more small squeeze, Nari bounds over to her brother. You watch as Jaehyun lifts her from the ground, spinning your best friend around while she squeals with delight.

“Jeeze, Jae,” Nari gasps when she’s set on her feet again, “have you been bulking again? You’re fucking huge!”

You want to groan at the statement, because it’s so true.

Jaehyun had always been attractive, but then he’d gone to uni, joined the football team- and now, he’s as sexy as ever. His shoulders are broad, his chest sculpted by the gods, his arms all beefy and thick and always ready to throw you onto his bed-

The pretty fratboy notices you staring, and he flashes you a wink over his sister’s shoulder. You break eye contact, staring down at the pavement.

“Was the flight okay?” Nari asks, coming over to join you again.

“We hit a bit of turbulence,” Jaehyun answers smoothly. “But I’d say it was a good trip.”

Your skin heats at the memory of him railing you less than an hour ago. You wonder if your panties are wet from watching him be the hottest man you’ve ever seen- or from his cum still dripping out of you.

It feels dirty- but exhilarating at the same time. Jae’s your sinful little secret, and despite the wish that he didn’t have to be, it’s part of the fun.

“You seem off, babes,” Nari says, reaching over to touch your arm. “Are you okay?”

“Just tired.” You smile softly. “Didn’t sleep much on the plane.”

“Well, when we get home, I can make us some espresso martinis,” Nari winks.

Before you can say anything else, a car honks behind you, making you jump.

“We should get going,” Jaehyun says, reaching for the door to the driver’s passenger seat. “Don’t want to hold up the line.”

Instead of entering the car himself, Jaehyun looks at you pointedly. When you furrow your brows with confusion, he makes a small motion with his head, a motion that says ‘get in.’

While Nari hurries around the front of the car, you step closer to her brother. “You’re opening car doors for me now?”

“Just being chivalrous,” he grins.

You can feel his breath against your face, can see it in the cold air- he’s so close, his lips all perfect and pink and plump-

“Get in bitches, we’re going home!” Nari yells as she hops into the car.

And just like that, the spell is broken. You tear yourself away from Jaehyun, getting into the SUV while he closes the door behind you, taking his own seat in the back.

“Okay, so I know you’re only here for five days, but we still have to do all our Christmas traditions,” Nari says as she carefully pulls out of the terminal line.

“All of them?” you squeak. You’d figured you’d do a few of the things you’ve been doing with Nari since high school, but the idea that you’ll do all of them? “Do we have the time?”

“Well, if we start tonight with a girls' night, we can bake cookies, have a sleepover, watch some Christmas movies, have our espresso martinis- and then tomorrow we can go skating. I’m pretty sure the Lee boys will be there, I bumped into Mark yesterday and he said he has to be on the ice every day, even during his break-”

“You’re still into Mark, huh?” Jaehyun laughs, leaning forward from the backseat to join the conversation.

“Of course.” Nari flips a long, dark, silky smooth strand of hair over her shoulder, eying her brother through the rearview mirror. “He’s literally adorable.”

“Sure he is,” her brother scoffs.

“Anyways, as I was saying,” Nari grabs your thigh, squeezing gently, “Mark said Jeno was flying in- I think last night? So if we go skating tomorrow, we could probably see them both, maybe get apple cider from the parking lot food truck together after a cute little double date-”

“Double date?” You can feel Jaehyun’s breath against your neck. “Since when are you both into Lee’s?”

“Since when are you joining in on girl talk?” Nari fires back at her brother. “Can’t you let us plan in peace?”

“I told you I’m not into Jeno anymore,” you say quietly, feeling your skin prickle under Jaehyun’s hard gaze as you address his sister.

“Yeah, your whole long-distance thing- well, who says this has to be a relationship? We can have a bit of fun, can’t we?”

You and Jaehyun both sigh, and you hear the fratboy sit back in his seat, clearly exasperated.

“This is what happens when you join girl talk, Jae,” Nari scolds her brother. “If you don’t want to hear the juicy details, put some headphones on.”

“I’m fine with juicy details,” Jaehyun notes, “I just don’t like hearing about your random hook-up plans.”

“As if you wouldn’t hit on Irene if you saw her around town while you’re here,” Nari points out.

“Irene?” You perk up at the mention of the girl who used to be the cheerleading captain at your high school. She’s a year older than you, one year younger than Jaehyun- You swivel in your seat to address the man you’ve been sleeping with for two months. “You have a crush on Irene?”

“Oh my god, have you never heard this?” Nari practically wiggles in excitement. “Jaehyun was obsessed with her. Like- truly obsessed.”

“I was not-”

“You a hundred percent were!” Nari insists. “When Jae’s obsessed, he does this thing where he low key stalks the girl- like, looks at her location on Snapmaps and then just ‘happens’ to end up in the same place and bump into her-”

Your skin tingles. You’d known Jaehyun had used that tactic on you, but you hadn’t realized that it was a common theme of obsession for him.

When you sneak a look over your shoulder at the fratboy, you find his entire face has turned pink. “Nari, stop-” he groans.

“I’ll stop if you stop,” his sister fires back.

“Fine, yeah, I won’t say anything,” Jaehyun sighs.

“Good!” Nari grins in triumph. “So as I was saying- if we do skating tomorrow, and make gingerbread houses the next day, we can get most of our traditions done before the Christmas eve party.”

“You know what?” You take a breath as the car comes to a stop at a red light. “It sounds like you have this whole thing planned, so let’s just do it. Whatever you want.”

“Really!?” Nari beams, turning to look at you.

“Uh huh,” you nod. “Whatever you want.”

“Eeee!” your best friend throws her arms around you, leaning over the middle panel to hug you tight.

“Nari, the road!” Jaehyun yells, hand grabbing at the shoulder of your seat.

“Right-” Nari pulls away from you, turning her attention back to driving. The light is green now, and she hits the gas just as the person behind you begins to honk. “I’m just so excited- girls' night!”

“More like girls' week,” Jaehyun sighs from behind you.

“And what about it!?” Nari grins. “Babes,” her attention shifts to you again, “we should do takeout tonight. I know your mom is probably going to cook, but I’ve been missing our pho place for literal months-”

Jaehyun perks up behind you. “The pho place down on Wayfare?”

“As if there’s any other pho place,” Nari sasses.

“Shit, I could go for some of that too.”

“Then get it yourself, we’re discussing girl’s night, Jae. You’re not invited.”

You can’t help but grin to yourself at their bickering.

Soon you’re pulling up in front of your houses. When Jaehyun takes your luggage out of the back, you grab the handle, offering him a small smile. “Thanks for this, I can take it from here.”

“Have fun tonight,” he tells you.

“With your sister? Always.”

Five

You haven’t been on skates since last Christmas, and stepping onto the ice makes you wobbly. Nari grabs onto your arm, giggling at your antics.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you tell her, although you’re grinning at your own ineptitude as well.

“I’m not,” she insists. “You’re adorable. Jeno’s gonna love this, it will give him an excuse to come hold your hand.”

“Jesus, I already told you I don’t want Jeno-”

As the words escape your mouth, you catch sight of the Lee cousins. Mark is wearing blue jeans, a red crewneck and a beanie, his cheeks flushed. He’s grinning at the man next to him, the Lee Jeno in question.

Your sentence gets caught in your throat, because damn, even from across the rink, Jeno looks good. Unlike his colorful cousin, Jeno is in full black. Joggers and a hoodie, but even through the thick fabrics, the broad set of his shoulders is undeniable.

Had everyone gotten hotter in the past few months?

“Where did you say Jeno ended up going to uni again?” you ask.

Nari grins knowingly. “He went down south somewhere, a lacrosse scholarship, remember?”

Jeno had been a lean jock type in high school, but now, he looks like certified Angus beef, and you want to take a bite.

You might call Jaehyun puppy these days, but if anyone embodies some good labrador retriever energy, it’s the two cousins who catch your eye and come skating over.

Your heart begins to thunder in your rib cage, and suddenly, the winter jacket you’re wearing feels much too hot and heavy- or maybe that’s just you.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Nari beams, looking Mark up and down. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”

The hockey player gives your best friend a look, “I mean, I did tell you I’d be here every day, didn’t I?”

You can see Nari begin to flounder next to you. “She mentioned Jeno would be in town, so I insisted we come today,” you say smoothly, catching the younger Lee’s eye. “I guess I was wondering how your lacrosse scholarship was going.”

“Yeah?” Jeno grins. “I can tell you all about it.” He holds his arm out to you, and with one final smile to Nari, you accept his offer, wobbling a little as you join Jeno and begin to skate around the rink. “Where should I start?”

“Wherever you want, I don’t know much about lacrosse.”

“Well…” Jeno takes a deep breath, and then he launches into a rundown of his team's wins and losses, giving all sorts of details and using lingo that you can hardly keep track of. It’s the most you can do to watch your footing and not slip while latched onto his large bicep.

In the periphery, you can hear Nari and Mark chatting behind you. You’re happy she’s finally getting some time with her crush, even if it means you have to take one for the team and entertain Jeno… although, he’s doing a pretty good job entertaining himself.

“Anyways,” Jeno sighs, “enough about me, how has your first term been treating you?”

“It’s been great!” you smile. “I love my classes, my teachers are very good at what they do-”

“How about your personal life? New friends, boyfriends-” Jeno trails off.

You find yourself giggling. “Wow, Jeno, that was smooth.”

His ears turn pink, and he adjusts your hand on his arm, pulling you closer. “I’ll take that as a no?”

“You should take it as a… it’s complicated.”

“Most things are,” Jeno nods. “But they don’t have to be.”

“They don’t?”

“Sometimes it can be as simple as I think you’re hot, you think I’m hot, lets see what happens.”

“Is that what you want?” you ask. “To see what happens between us?”

“I’m definitely curious about it… and I feel like you are too.”

You open your mouth to say something, and that’s when you catch sight of Jaehyun. He’s leaning by the opening to the rink, arms crossed over his chest. The white cardigan he has on was a Christmas present from his mother last year, and his jeans are black. He looks extremely striking, as always, and he’s staring right at you, a smirk on his lips.

“I uh…” you swallow thickly, considering letting go of Jeno’s arm-

Behind you, Mark’s voice gets louder. “You really think you can skate faster than me?”

“We should race,” Nari insists.

“You’re so on.”

A moment later, the two are whipping by you and Jeno, giggling like children. The distraction makes Jeno perk up, and you feel his muscles flex under your fingers.

“You should join them,” you suggest, seeing it as your only easy way out of this situation.

“Are you sure? Won’t you fall?”

“I’ll be okay,” you insist. “Seriously, I know you want to.”

“You’re the best,” Jeno grins. And then he does something you never would have expected him to do. He leans down and presses his lips to your cheek.

As suddenly as he’d made his move, he’s darting off, and you’re left shocked in his wake.

You freeze where you are, and then you begin to wobble. Your skates slip on the ice and your arms fly out, trying to help you balance-

But it’s no use, after a few seconds of sliding around, you begin to fall backward-

Strong arms catch you, and you find yourself clutched to Jaehyun’s chest while he looks down at you. “Hey, Angel.”

“Puppy-” you gasp, clinging tightly to his woven cardigan.

He helps you straighten, only to pull you tighter to his body, leaning forward so his lips brush by your ear when he says, “I wanna kiss you so fucking bad.”

“Jae-”

“It’s only fair, isn’t it? Jeno just got to kiss your cheek, why can’t I?”

“We can’t do this here-”

“You’re right,” he nods, pulling away from you, “let's go somewhere private.”

Your whole body is alight with tingling energy. You’re drawn to Jaehyun like a moth to a flame, and it takes every ounce of your self-control to pull away from him- although, you latch onto his arm a moment later when you begin to slip again.

“Puppy,” you say in a hushed tone, “we talked about this.”

“We never talked about Jeno flirting with you in front of me,” Jaehyun points out, beginning to lead you toward the wall of the ice rink where you’ll be able to grab the ledge for support.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault. He has to learn his place.”

“God, you’re so jealous,” you laugh. Your best friend’s brother doesn’t usually act this way, at his frat, everyone knows you’re his, no one would dare come near you- but here, in your hometown, surrounded by past crushes and would be romancables, it’s open season, and it’s clear that it’s making Jaehyun uncomfortable.

“I’m protective,” he corrects you.

You make it to the edge of the rink and you grab onto the side, steadying yourself and turning to look out at the ice. Mark is easy to spot in his red crewneck, making a fast lap with Nari and Jeno quick on his heels. God, you’d really held them all up with your wobbly skating.

“They look like they’re having fun,” Jaehyun notes, following your gaze.

“Yeah, Nari’s always been good on the ice.”

Jaehyun laughs. “That’s what five years of figure skating will do to you.”

“I wouldn’t be able to stand it, my feet are already hurting from these skates and I just got here.”

“I could always offer to take you home, we could get some alone time.” Jaehyun moves closer to you, and it takes everything for you to not lean against his shoulder.

“I’d love to, but-”

“But this is girl’s time,” he finishes your sentence for you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jaehyun sighs. “Nari has missed you. I don’t blame her for that.”

A minute later, your best friend stops in front of you with the Lee boys in tow. “Ready for another go around the rink?” she asks.

“I’m just slowing you guys down, maybe I should just… stand here,” you suggest.

“I’ll keep her company,” Jaehyun smiles, and you don’t miss the way his eyes shift to Jeno, who straightens under his gaze.

“Or we could go grab some apple cider from the food truck,” Jeno pipes up. “Mark and I have been here a while, I’m done with skating if you are.”

Nari looks at you, then at Mark, then to Jeno- you’re not really sure how to respond yourself.

“Apple cider sounds perfect right now,” Jaehyun says smoothly. “It will be my treat. But hey, Nari, I know you love skating, how about you stick around here with Mark for a while? Looked like you two were enjoying yourselves.”

“Uh… I mean, if that’s okay with you?” Nari reaches out for your hand. “We’ll do a few more laps then we can come join?”

“Whatever you want,” you nod, squeezing her fingers gently.

“Okay, well,” a grin appears on her face and she sneaks a glance at Mark before looking at you and her brother again, “I guess we’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

As she and the hockey player dart away, you push off from the wall, only to begin wobbling. Two sets of steady hands grab your arms and you find yourself squished between Jeno and Jaehyun.

“Easy there, angel,” Jaehyun breathes.

Jeno tightens his grip on you but doesn’t say anything, and they help you off the ice.

You can feel the tension in the air, and it only gets thicker as you try to find somewhere to sit to take off your skates amongst the young families all lacing up to get in the rink. It’s Jaehyun who nabs you a seat, insisting you’re the first to get your skates off. But he doesn’t stop there, as you struggle with the tight knots, Jaehyun gets down on a knee, brushing your hands aside.

“Looks like Nari did these up for you, huh?” he muses with a grin on his face.

“Yeah, something about tight laces for ankle safety,” you huff, leaning back and allowing him to do the work.

Jaehyun opens his mouth to respond to you, but Jeno beats him to it. “So you two are pretty close, huh?”

You exchange a look with your best friend’s brother. “Well, I mean- we grew up together,” you point out.

“Right, neighbors, I forgot about that.” Jeno nods to himself. “And you’re at the same uni now?”

“Yup,” Jaehyun says flatly, pulling your first skate off while you let out a sigh of relief.

“See much of each other?” the lacrosse player asks.

“In passing,” you lie, and it makes Jaehyun smirk to himself as he continues to your second skate.

Jeno doesn’t question you further, and as soon as you’re free of the torture devices that had been strapped to your feet, you dart to the skate counter to retrieve your shoes, leaving the two alpha males to their own devices.

When Jaehyun and Jeno find you again, they’re chatting easier now- some shared love for a sports team. It allows you some reprieve as you all head outside and get in line at the food truck.

It’s odd to be in a situation like this. Two gorgeous, beefy, tall men on either side of you- this would have been a dream of yours back in high school, but now, it falls oddly flat.

Mark and Nari join you by the time you make it to the front of the line, and Jaehyun buys a round of apple ciders despite the Lee cousins protesting. “It’s the least I could do for the guys who entertained these two goofballs before I showed up,” Jaehyun insists, nudging his sister playfully.

The conversation quickly returns to sports, and Nari pulls you aside. “So…” she grins. “How was Jeno time?”

“How was Mark time?” you counter.

“He’s just as cute and sweet as I remember,” Nari practically swoons. “I’m so happy Jaehyun decided to cockblock you and not me- but Jeno likes you, I’m sure of it.”

“Can we drop this whole Jeno thing?” you groan, eyes darting over her shoulder to the group of men who are still talking about football of all topics.

“He’s so hot though! Why are you being like this?”

“I told you, I don’t want anything long distance.” and also I’m in love with your brother.

Nari crinkles her nose with distaste. “You’re no fun.”

Your gaze shifts to Jaehyun, and he flashes you a small wink that makes your heart race in your chest.

This whole thing is getting out of hand.

Six

It’s very hard to focus on your gingerbread house with Jaehyun hovering around the kitchen. He’s come and looked in the fridge about six different times, you’ve watched him down three beers, eat an orange cup, a few pieces of beef jerky, and then grab a bag of chips.

“Did you guys not have dinner or something?” you find yourself asking with a laugh.

“Huh?” Nari looks up from her immaculate creation, then swivels in her chair to eye her brother. “Actually, that’s a good question, why are you eating so much?”

“Are you two fat-shaming me?” Jaehyun questions before plopping more chips in his mouth.

“Oh my god, Jae, fuck off-” Nari rolls her eyes.

The football player grins. “If you must know, I’m bulking. I’m allowed to bulk, aren’t I? I was at the gym for three hours this morning.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy,” Nari muses.

“Yeah? Well, look at these.” Jaehyun’s in a muscle shirt, and as he lifts his arms to flex, you find yourself beginning to drool. You have to tear your eyes off of him, your skin heating with excitement.

God, you want him so bad-

“Put your guns away, Jesus, neither of us want to see that!” Nari screeches.

Jaehyun only grins, approaching the two of you at the dinner table. “Nice gingerbread houses.”

“We’re almost done,” Nari smiles, inspecting her perfect little edible art project.

“What’s next for girl’s night?” Jaehyun asks, leaning over his sister’s chair.

“Christmas movies,” you respond, trying to focus on your own craft despite Jaehyun’s eyes being glued to you.

“Sounds fun.”

You reach for your martini, and you can feel Jaehyun watching that too.

“How much have you guys had to drink?” Your best friend’s brother questions.

“Who are you? The party police? God, Jae, just leave us alone,” Nari groans.

“Fine, have it your way.” Jaehyun straightens again. “Just pace yourselves okay?”

You wonder, as the night continues, the motives behind Jaehyun’s warning. Nari generally does the opposite of what her brother asks her to do, and true to form, she ends up drinking much more than she’d initially planned.

By the time you settle into the living room to watch a movie, she’s hiccuping, her skin all flushed as she cuddles under a soft blanket. “Stupid Jaehyun,” she groans, “telling me not to drink. Who does he think he is?”

“He’s just watching out for us,” you sigh, scrolling through Netflix to find the movie you’d agreed on.

“Why’s he have to be such a big brother party pooper all the time?” Nari asks. “He’s so lame.”

You can’t help but smile. And you can’t agree with her either, a small sound of semi-affirmation is all you can muster.

You’re not fifteen minutes into the movie when you hear soft footfalls behind the couch, and you turn to see Jaehyun leaning over you. “Hi,” he grins.

Your eyes dart to Nari, who is passed out in the corner of the couch. Alcohol has always made her sleepy, and you wonder if this was Jaehyun’s plan all along.

“Can I join you?” he asks.

“As long as you don’t wake her up,” you whisper after a few moments of contention.

Jaehyun comes around the couch and you wiggle over to make room for him in the middle. He sits down carefully, allowing you to adjust the blankets over you both. His arm immediately falls around your shoulders, and you can’t help the sigh that slips out of you.

“Missed you,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Missed you too,” you admit.

His free hand finds your thigh under the blanket and you shift nervously.

“Puppy-”

“Nari is asleep. We both know what happens when she drinks. She’s out cold, angel.” Jaehyun’s angled towards you now, his lips ghosting past your throat.

“What about your parents?”

“They’re at a Christmas party, they won’t be home till the AM.” He nuzzles your ear and the contact makes you shiver, turning slightly toward him while he parts your thighs. “Can I touch you?”

“You’re already touching me,” you breathe.

“You know what I mean.” His fingers toy with the waistband of your sweatpants. “Tell me to stop.”

You can only release a small sigh of pleasure as he kisses your throat again, abusing your sweet spot while his hand slips under your pants, bypassing your panties too.

“Fuck, angel, you’re already so wet,” he moans in your ear. “Such a dirty girl, letting your best friend’s brother touch you like this while she sleeps next to us.”

You hate that his words turn you on even more. Hate that your entire pussy tingles with interest, his index finger brushing over your clit and making your mind hazy.

“Have you missed this as much as I have?” he asks.

“It’s been two days puppy, we’ve gone longer-”

“That’s not the point,” Jaehyun insists, slipping one digit into your tight pussy, stroking your aching walls while you struggle to hold your moans at bay. “It’s torture, being this close to you and having to pretend we’re not-” His voice catches, and his breath is hot against your skin.

“Not what?” you whimper.

“Not totally obsessed with each other,” he says finally, adding a second finger to work you open.

“Only one of us is obsessed, puppy.”

“Yeah? Your pussy says otherwise, angel. You’re practically dripping on my hand.”

“Please-”

“Please what? Close already?” Jaehyun applies pressure to your clit with his palm, pumping his digits into you even harder.

“We can’t-” you swallow thickly. “I can’t-”

“Can’t what? Cum while Nari sleeps next to us? I’m sure you can angel, she never has to know, that’s what you keep saying, right?”

“Puppy,” you open your eyes, reaching up to cup his face. “The bathroom.”

Jaehyun pulls his hand from your pants immediately. “After you.”

You catch him licking his fingers clean as you stand from the couch, careful not to wake Nari as you tiptoe to the bathroom down the hall, Jaehyun hot on your heels.

You’re quick to turn the light and fan on, hoping to muffle any noise. The moment the bathroom door is closed and locked behind you, Jaehyun has you pressed against it. His lips are hot against your own and he quickly tugs your pants down to your knees. You try to thread your fingers through his hair only for him to capture your wrists, pinning them above you while his free hand slips between your legs again.

His digits slide into you easily, and your back arches, thighs twitching. “Fuck, puppy-”

“I’ve missed watching you cum,” Jaehyun groans. “Wanna make you cum like this before I fuck you properly. You can do that for me, right? Cum on my fingers? I think I deserve it after having to watch you and Jeno yesterday.”

The mention of Jeno has your stomach twisting into knots, your orgasm building much too quickly as Jaehyun works you open, his palm firm on your clit.

“Come on, angel,” his grip on your wrist tightens, “I can feel you tensing up, just let go for me.”

You bite into your lower lip as you cum, your core throbbing while Jaehyun works you through it. You’re doing your best to muffle your own sounds but it’s difficult with the amount of pleasure coursing through you.

You can feel Jaehyun watching you intently, can feel his heavy breaths on your skin as his fingers thrust in and out of your gushing pussy.

“So fucking perfect,” he groans.

“Puppy-” you whimper, desperation overtaking you.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck me? Please?” All your inhibitions have flown out the bathroom window. All you want now is Jaehyun.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Jaehyun grins.

He lets go of your wrists and you move to the sink, lifting yourself up and onto it while Jaehyun works on his belt. Your skin tingles, your eyes fixed on the bulge pressing against denim. As soon as he’s pushed his pants down, releasing his aching cock, you’re grabbing at him to pull him close, lining him up with your core-

“Fuck!” Nari’s voice is loud on the other side of the door. “Oh my god, Y/N, open up!”

You freeze for a moment, but when loud banging begins, you jump into overdrive.

You push Jaehyun away from you, hopping off the sink to pull up your sweatpants- “Get in the shower,” you whisper at him before turning your attention to the door, “One moment!”

The next thing you do is flush the toilet, then turn on the faucet while Jaehyun clamors into the tub, still fumbling with his pants while you close the curtain.

“Oh my God-” you hear again, and your heart thunders in your rib cage, realization overtaking you.

You unlock the door quickly, throwing it open just in time for Nari to stumble past you to the toilet. She sinks to her knees, a gagging sound filling the room as the consequences of her drinking are brought up.

“Nari,” you sigh, immediately moving to grab her hair, pulling it away from her face while she pukes.

There’s nothing else to be said, nothing else to be done while you take care of your best friend, her brother hiding in the shower with his cock probably still hard and aching.

As things begin to settle for Nari a short while later, you stroke her back. “Feeling better?”

She nods, letting out a pitiful groan.

“Do you want to stay in here? Or do you think we can go to the kitchen so I can grab you some water and crackers for your stomach?”

Nari takes a moment to consider it, and then she mumbles, “Kitchen.”

You help her to her feet, supporting her out of the bathroom. When you reach the kitchen, you take her to the sink just in case anything else comes up, and you hurry to get her some water.

As you hand her the cup, Jaehyun stumbles into the kitchen. “Are you two okay? I heard noises.”

“She just had a little too much to drink,” you explain softly, still rubbing Nari’s back.

“Well, I hate to say it, but I told you to watch your liquor tonight,” Jaehyun grins.

Nari glares at her brother over the rim of her cup. “Fuck off and die.”

Seven

The Jeong family Christmas party is always one of the best nights of the year. You arrived early to help prep appetizers, and you’d been in the house not five minutes before Nari forced you into an ugly Christmas sweater - as per her family tradition.

Now, as the house is full of all sorts of people, you feel like an absolute mess with the stupid reindeer on your chest. Although, to be fair, Nari’s is even worse. And Jaehyun’s? Maybe the most hideous of them all- however, his handsome face is more than enough to make up for it.

Jaehyun’s clearly pent-up, and it’s obvious he doesn’t give a shit about your ugly Christmas sweater. He keeps looking at you as if he wants to throw you against the wall and fuck you stupid with the entire party watching, and you’ve done your best to avoid him all night.

It doesn’t help that Jeno and Mark have shown up, the hockey player distracting Nari and leaving you open to the younger Lee, who keeps finding excuses to start a conversation with you.

“So when do you head back to uni?” Jeno asks, leaning closer as he nurses the beer in his hand.

“On the twenty-sixth.”

“Shit, in two days?”

“Uh huh.”

Jeno cocks his head to the side. “You couldn’t stay longer?”

“I’m actually moving into my own place on January first, so I’ve gotta get home and pack and prep for classes next term, that sort of thing,” you explain.

“Sucks. It would have been nice to spend some more time with you.”

You notice then that his beer is empty, and instead of responding to his statement, you suggest getting him another round. When you move to the fridge, you find that all the Corona’s are gone, so you excuse yourself to grab more from the cooler out on the back deck, hoping for some reprieve.

It’s a cold night, your breath hanging in the air as you open the cooler, reaching down for the beer you need.

You hear the door open behind you, the noise of the party getting loud only for it to be muffled again when the door is shut once more. “I’ll just be a second,” you call, expecting it to be Jeno who’s followed you outside, however, when you turn, it’s not Jeno’s chest you bump into, it’s Jaehyun’s.

“Hey, angel.”

You let out a sigh, looking up at his handsome face. “Hi, puppy.” His arms wrap around you, and you let out a groan. “What are you doing?”

“It’s cold out here, I’m warming you up,” he insists, dimples on display as he grins. “Also, I found something inside.”

“Yeah? What did you find?”

Jaehyun reaches into his pocket, pulling out something small and green. “Mistletoe.”

He doesn’t even bother holding it over your head, he simply cups the back of your head with one hand and draws your lips to his own.

This is the worst place to be kissing Jaehyun. Anyone could open the door from the kitchen and find the two of you making out, but you also can’t say no to him anymore, not when your entire body is yearning for him in a way that you can’t even put into words.

You melt in his embrace, kissing him back.

His tongue glides against your lower lip, and you open your mouth, accepting him into you while he releases a low groan, tugging you closer to his warm body.

There’s a shattering sound inside, and a scream, then laughter, and the commotion causes you to pull away from Jaehyun, looking over his shoulder toward the door.

“We should go back inside,” you sigh.

“For Jeno to keep flirting with you?” Jaehyun scoffs. “I’m not a huge fan of that idea.”

“As if you weren’t talking to Irene earlier, don’t think I didn’t notice her arrive an hour ago.”

“There’s a difference between me and Irene, and you and Jeno.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” you laugh.

“I don’t give a fuck about Irene anymore, but with you and Jeno, I’m not so sure.”

Your heart tightens in your chest. “Jae-”

“Puppy,” he corrects you.

“Puppy,” you sigh, “there’s nothing between me and Jeno. I’ve been trying to avoid him all night.”

“Not as hard as you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Yeah, because you look at me like you want to bend me over the next horizontal surface and fuck me stupid!” you laugh.

“Are you a mind reader now, angel?” Jaehyun grins.

“Something like that,” you shake your head at his antics, patting his chest with your free hand. “Seriously, I’m getting cold, we should go inside.”

“Fine,” Jaehyun sighs, releasing you. “You can head in first, I’ll give it a minute before following.”

You can’t help but give him one final kiss, a kiss that lingers before you tear yourself away, brushing past him to enter the warmth of the house again.

Jeno is still standing in the kitchen, and you hold out a Corona as you approach. “Here.”

“Can I ask you something?” Jeno watches you add a few more beers to the fridge.

“Of course.”

“When you said your love life is complicated… it’s Jae, isn’t it?”

Your skin tingles as you close the fridge, turning to match Jeno’s gaze. “I uh-” You swallow thickly, looking around to make sure no one is listening before you lean in closer to the lacrosse player. “Was it that obvious?”

“No… and also sort of. There were signs, like, the way he just followed you outside, but I actually asked a friend about you,” Jeno admits.

“A friend?”

“Yeah, I uh, went to lacrosse summer camp with this dude for a few years, turns out he’s a pledge in Jaehyun’s frat. He confirmed things.”

“Which pledge?”

“Promise he won’t get in trouble?” Jeno laughs.

“Cross my heart.”

“His name is Jaemin. He says you and Jaehyun have been a thing since the start of the year. He said it seemed pretty serious.” Jeno studies your face, and you’re not sure what he’s really looking for from you in regard to a response. “I guess… I guess I’m just wondering why you two aren’t open about it here, or at least, why you aren’t as open about it as you seem to be at the frats.”

“He’s my best friend’s brother,” you say quietly.

“You really think Nari would care about something like this?” Jeno asks.

“She’s very… competitive about my time,” you explain. “And as I said, this is her brother we’re talking about. Their relationship is… complicated”

“Most family dynamics are,” Jeno concedes. “But if you ask me, I don’t think she’d have that big of an issue with it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you sigh, although you’re not sure how well Jeno knows Nari.

“Listen, now that you’ve made it clear you’re into someone else, I’ll leave you alone,” Jeno says finally. “I didn’t mean to step on any toes.”

“You didn't,” you assure him. “How were you supposed to know about Jaehyun? It’s not your fault. No harm, no foul.”

“I mean, I did kiss your cheek, which feels pretty innocent, but looking back now- Jaehyun was totally watching when I did that,” Jeno laughs.

“Okay, maybe there was a little harm,” you admit, joining him with a giggle, “but seriously, don’t worry about it. I’m the one who has to sort this whole Jae thing out, not you.”

“Good luck with it, really.” Jeno reaches out and gently squeezes your shoulder, offering you one more smile before he turns and disappears into the other room.

Nari finds you a short while later, explaining that the Lee cousins had left. She gives you a complete rundown on Mark while the two of you sip wine and giggle by the fireplace. Other people begin to dissipate as the night goes on, and soon, you find yourself heading to the door.

Your best friend gives you a tight hug, and then you catch sight of her brother over her shoulder.

“Leaving already?” he asks.

“I’m pretty tired,” you admit.

“You can’t say goodbye without hugging at least two of the hosts, and seeing as our parents are in the kitchen discussing land equity, I guess that leaves you with me,” Jaehyun grins, holding his arms open for you.

“Jesus, Jae, you’re such a dog,” Nari rolls her eyes.

With a laugh, and a shake of your head, you step into Jaehyun’s embrace, hating how your body reacts to him. You’re aware of Nari standing just a few feet away, but you can’t help the way you lean closer to his ear. “Goodnight, puppy.”

Jaehyun’s body tenses slightly, and you pull out of the hug, offering him a small smile.

“Goodnight, y/n.”

It feels weird to hear him actually call you by your name instead of calling you angel.

You don’t like it, and the feeling sticks with you while you head next door to your own house.

After a quick hello to your mother, and an acknowledgment that your dad is still at the Jeong Christmas Eve party, you go upstairs, ready to go to bed. Only, as soon as you enter your room, your phone begins to ring, and you pull it from your pocket.

“Hey, puppy,” you laugh. “Miss me already?”

“Look out your window.”

Your gaze lifts, heart already picking up speed.

Growing up with Jaehyun’s room directly across from your own had led to a few tense moments in your teens. One day, you’d seen him fresh from a shower, towel low on his hips- but other than a few near-naked moments, you’d done your best not to be a peeping tom. It’s interesting to have him directing you to be nosey, and you approach the window with your phone held tight in your hand.

Jaehyun’s standing in his room, and he waves his fingers at you. “I didn’t think we’d be reduced to this,” he admits, “but fuck it, if this is the only way I can have you tonight, then I guess phone sex is my new best friend.”

“Phone sex, huh?” you laugh.

“You got to cum with me yesterday, but I didn’t, and I’m feeling it, angel.” As if to prove his point, Jaehyun’s free hand slides down his chest to his pants, and he grips his cock through the fabric. “You’re making me crazy.”

“I’m not doing anything, puppy. You’re the one being insatiable. I’m just a good girl in her bedroom while her neighbor watches and touches himself.”

“I shouldn’t be the only one having fun though,” Jaehyun says, and you can hear his breathing getting heavier already while he palms himself through his pants. “How about you lift that stupid fucking reindeer sweater and show me those tits I love so much?”

“Yeah? Is that really what you want, puppy?” You grab the hem of the ugly sweater, slowly lifting it to reveal a strip of your abdomen.

“Fuck, why haven’t we been doing this every night since we got here?” Jaehyun groans, stepping closer to his window to get a better look at you.

“We’ve been busy,” you remind him, allowing the fabric to drop down again. “I’m actually pretty tired-”

“If we don’t do this on the phone, I’ll be forced to come over there, explain to your mother that you’re my evasive little tease of a fuck toy, and rail you in your bedroom.”

The thought makes your pussy throb with desire. “We can’t have that, now can we?”

“So be a good girl, angel, and take off your sweater.”

“Take off yours,” you counter.

Jaehyun doesn’t waste a moment, he tears the fabric off his body, muscles rippling under unblemished skin.

Fuck, you’ve missed him too, but you haven’t allowed yourself to acknowledge just how much you’ve missed him until this very moment.

You follow suit, taking off the ugly Christmas sweater.

“Bra too,” he says, voice husky as his hand returns to his cock.

Unlike Jaehyun, you haven’t mastered the art of removing your bra with one hand, so you put your phone on speaker and set it on the windowsill. You’re slow with your motions, flashing your best friend’s brother a flirty grin as you reach behind your back.

“Fuck-” he groans, watching one strap slip off, then the other. As you drop the bra to the floor, Jaehyun pulls down his pants, and your mouth begins to water at the sight of his cock.

You wish you were closer to him, wish you could see the pretty vein that runs along the underside of his dick-

“I want you in my mouth, puppy,” you admit.

“Angel-” Jaehyun moans, wrapping his hand around his girth.

“Wanna suck you off till you see stars,” you continue, reaching up to grab your breasts, teasing your fingers over your nipples, and letting out a shaky breath.

“I wanna eat you out till your thighs are shaking around my head and you’re squirting all over my tongue.”

You immediately fumble with your pants, pushing them down around your ankles and then your panties too.

“Tell me how wet you are,” Jaehyun commands as you bring your digits to your clit, swiping through your pussy lips to collect the moisture there.

“I’m drenched, puppy, and I’ve been drenched since that kiss we had by the cooler outside.”

“You should’a let me fuck you,” he says smugly.

“Puppy-”

“I know, I know.” You hear him swallow thickly. “Rub your clit for me, and don’t be gentle. I’m way too horny to last- had a wet dream about you last night and I can’t get you out of my head.”

“Tell me about the dream?” you urge, applying pressure to the sensitive bud between your thighs.

“We were back in my room at the frat,” he starts. “No one was gonna bug us. No sisters or pledges. Just you and me. I took my time with you, letting you grind on my thigh in your sweatpants till you were begging for me to get you naked and do whatever I wanted to you.”

“And then?”

“Stripped you, got between your thighs, made you scream, made you cry and drool and say please-” You can see his hand picking up speed on his cock, and your pussy throbs as you work your clit. “Finally gave you my cock, folded you like a fucking pretzel, and gave you everything you wanted.”

You slip a digit into your pussy, releasing a frustrated groan.

“I know that sound, angel. What? Fingers not big enough for you?” Jaehyun laughs.

“Nothing is big enough except your cock,” you whimper, quickly adding a second.

“True, but you’ll still cum for me, right? I wanna watch you cum.”

You bring your second hand to your clit, and the moment you touch it, electric tingles erupt across your skin.

His dirty talk - as well as the fact that you haven’t fucked him in a few days - has you close to the edge already.

“I wanna watch you cum too,” you tell him. “Wish you were cumming inside me though, filling me up just right-”

“Fuck, that perfect fucking pussy squeezing me for all I’m worth-”

“Puppy,” you whimper, feeling your emotions building with your orgasm.

“Yeah, angel, I’m there too- gonna be good and cum with me, right? Gonna let me watch you as you fuck yourself with your fingers wishing it was my cock inside you-”

“Jae-”

“Puppy, call me puppy, angel- fuck,” he groans loudly and the sound goes straight to your core, which pulses around your fingertips.

You can’t hold off any longer, your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks. A strangled gasp escapes you, your eyes closing, head falling back as white-hot energy surges through you.

Jaehyun releases his own sound of pleasure, panting hard on the other end of the line. Muffled moans and whimpers ensue as you work yourselves through your highs, your body aching for Jaehyun to be there with you instead of in his room next door.

As your orgasm passes, you slowly come to a stop, opening your eyes again to stare at your best friend’s brother. He’s already wiping away his cum with a tissue, and he flashes you a wink.

In retaliation for the flush that immediately consumes you from such a small act, you take your fingers from your pussy, lifting them to your lips.

“Jesus, angel,” Jaehyun moans, his motions coming to a stop as he watches you.

“Bet you can’t wait to taste me again, puppy.”

“I can still come over.”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“It was worth a shot, though, huh?” he laughs.

“Goodnight, Jaehyun.”

“You don’t wanna stay on call? Maybe Facetime while you fall asleep or something?”

“I’ve gotta shower-”

“Take your phone with you.”

It’s so hard to say no to him, so you don’t.

His eager encouragements and filthy mouth help you cum two more times - once in the shower and once in bed - before you finally pass out while on Facetime with the man who owns your heart.

Eight

Nari knows you well. Better than almost anyone, and because of this, gift-giving with her is always easy. She gets you a box set of your favorite perfume before opening the present you’d gotten for her (skincare from her favorite Korean brand).

As you settle onto her couch afterward, however, you realize just how well she knows you.

“So… what’s going on with you and Jae?”

“Hmm?” You nearly choke on your wine.

“You called him puppy last night.” You stare blankly at her. “As you were leaving. At first, I thought it had to do with me calling him a dog right before that, but… I don’t know, it felt too natural, and he seemed way too happy and smiley afterward.”

“I didn’t uh…” you swallow thickly, “I didn’t realize you’d heard that.”

“I bet you didn’t,” Nari shakes her head knowingly. “The more I thought about it, the more everything seemed to be natural between the two of you. Him helping you with your bags when I picked you up from the airport, him buying us all apple cider at the rink- the way he helped you on the ice. Even the way he hung around while we did our gingerbread houses. There’s something between you two, isn’t there? You guys are too natural together for there not to be something.”

“I mean… he’s your brother-”

“And he’s annoying, and lame, and a loser- but if you can look past all that, well… he’s a good guy at heart. And I’ve always wanted you to end up with a good guy.”

You can’t believe the words coming out of Nari’s mouth.

“There is something,” Nari states after your silence lasts a moment too long.

“Nari, I wanted to tell you-”

“I get why you didn’t, but seriously, fuck that, tell me everything!”

You’re shocked that she’s practically wiggling with excitement. As if this isn’t her older brother you’re talking about.

“What do you want to know?” you ask finally.

“When did it start? How did it start? Is he actually good to you? Does he stalk you on snapmaps?”

Her flurry of questions are almost too much to keep track of, and you set your wine glass down to get your bearings. “He’s good to me,” you admit. “Almost too good- and yeah, he still stalks me on snapmaps.”

“That creep!” Nari laughs. “So he’s like obsessed obsessed.”

“I guess so.” Your skin heats at the admission.

“You know what, I can’t believe I’m saying this but you two are kind of cute together. But, if he breaks your heart, you get me in the divorce and I’ll disown him.”

You giggle at how serious Nari is about this. “Deal.”

As the word leaves your mouth, the back door opens and Jaehyun trudges inside, a bundle of wood in his arms. There’s snow in his pretty dark hair, and his cheeks are pink from the cold. He looks up and flashes you both a smile as he kicks off his boots. “Thought you guys might want to get the fireplace going today so I chopped some provisions.”

All week, you’ve been hiding your affection for this absolute puppy of a man, but you don’t have to do that anymore.

You stand from the couch, smiling warmly at him. “She knows, puppy.”

“She knows?” he repeats, freezing in place. He looks from you to his sister, then back at you again.

A huge smile appears over his face and he drops the firewood, practically running at you, hopping over the couch and nearly whacking Nari in the process only to wrap his arms around you and pull you into a tight hug. He spins you around the Jeong family living room, burying his face in your hair.

“We don’t have to hide anymore!” he yells in your ear.

“No more hiding,” you agree as he sets you down, only to cup your face and kiss you deeply. Your skin flares at the realization that you’re doing this in front of his sister, but Jaehyun doesn’t seem to have a care in the world.

When he breaks away from you, he turns to Nari, grinning triumphantly. “This is my girlfriend!”

“Wait, you two are like, official official?” Nari asks.

“We are now,” Jaehyun states, but he falters, turning to you. “We are, right?”

“Yes, puppy, I’ll be your girlfriend,” you laugh.

He kisses you again, grinning the whole time, and you can’t help but smile as well.

“Fuck, you two are really cute,” Nari groans.

“This is the best Christmas present ever,” Jaehyun announces.

Nari rolls her eyes. “I’m not gifting you my best friend! Jesus, Jaehyun, get a life!”

“She’s my gift, no takebacks,” your puppy boyfriend insists, staring at you with stars in his eyes.

“You know what, we always did say we wanted to be sisters,” Nari sighs. “I guess we can officially welcome you to the Jeong’s now.”

“We’re not getting married-” you protest.

“Not yet, anyways,” Jaehyun quips, earning an elbow to the ribs.

“Yeah! Put him in his place!” Nari cheers.

Jaehyun holds you closer, bringing his lips to your ear. “Does this mean I can take you upstairs and fuck you now?”

“Fucking hell-” Nari squeals, “do neither of you know how to whisper?! I did not need to hear that!”

“Then you should find some headphones, because this one can be kind of loud.” Jaehyun pokes your stomach and you slap his hand away.

“Fine, shit,” Nari rolls her eyes, “look, as your best friend,” her eyes find yours, “I’ll give you half an hour to fuck my brother before I demand you come back downstairs for our usual Christmas festivities, deal?”

Before you can even answer, Jaehyun is throwing you over his shoulder. “Deal!”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I was feeling in the Christmas spirit, and I thought Jae would be so good for this :)

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🔮 preview. “Oh, we’re a hundred percent fucking at the Jeong family Christmas party. I’ve been needing you since dinner, angel. You won’t make me wait any longer, will you?”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, deep throating, oral, pussy eating, multiple orgasms, soft/romantic sex, dirty talk, mutual orgasm, praise, quickie, slight exhibitionism (fucking upstairs at a party), I petnames. (hers) angel (his) puppy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 staring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

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“Ya’ll are like a pair of fucking wild animals,” Nari whispers as she takes her seat between you and Jaehyun at the dining table while her parents prepare to bring food from the kitchen for your meal. “You can’t keep your hands off each other for ten minutes to eat a family dinner together- I thought the honeymoon phase was supposed to last a few months and it’s been over a fucking year.”

No one is more shocked than you are that you find yourself at the Jeong house for a second Christmas in a row while still completely enthralled with the oldest Jeong sibling. As supportive as Nari has been, it’s clear she’s salty about her brother getting much of your attention these days, and you can’t say you blame her for that.

This Christmas, you’re spending a week and a half in your hometown, and Jaehyun’s been trying to monopolize on your time with a fire that rivals even his sister’s.

“You don’t have to sit between us, you know,” Jaehyun quips.

“I think the fuck I do,” Nari retorts with a snort. “This is a PG dinner with our parents you whore.”

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fushigowo · 1 year

Text

𝐒𝐇𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 | 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

╰┈➤ gojo satoru x fem!reader

╰┈➤ synopsis: in your LIT 2000, your classmate, gojo satoru, has his eyes set on the shyest student after telling his theory to getou suguru that the shyest ones are always the horniest. to prove his theory right, satoru finds ways to know whether he’s correct and he’s absolutely sure that he is.

╰┈➤ warnings: fingering, cunnilingus, oral sex, teasing, praise, degradation? soft to rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dumbification, doggy style, cowgirl, name-calling, size kink, spanking, begging, pleasure dom satoru!! (reader and satoru are in their early 20s)

╰┈➤ a/n: this was supposed to be posted on christmas but i didn’t finish it on time :(( but i hope u all had a gentle holiday!! as a gift, i wrote whatever this is and i got inspiration from this soundgasm audio which is HOT AF!!! also, i did not proofread this. im lazy as fuck

PART I | PART II

Gojo Satoru has his pretty cerulean eyes set on someone, and that someone is none other than you.

You sit at the very front of the classroom, three rows in front of Satoru’s where he can get a clear view of you every time he stares. Not only you’re the smartest and the teacher’s pet, Satoru considers you as the most mysterious student in LIT 2000 despite being with 30 more students because of how quiet you are.

Satoru’s been observing you since the start of the year and the thing that he noticed the most was that you rarely and he means rarely talk to anyone or even participate in class. Whenever you’re called by the professor, you would mumble some I don’t knows and I’m sorrys because you can’t answer the question that was given to you. However, Satoru knew for a fact that you’re just saying those things so you won’t get to speak longer than that. He knew very well that you know the answer to every damn question.

Which is why he is so lucky to have you as a partner for a midterm essay.

As for you, you don’t know what to feel when professor called your name after Gojo Satoru’s.

You don’t really have a problem writing a five-page or more essay with a minimum of three thousand words. The problem is… Gojo Satoru is your partner. It’s not like you don’t like him. It’s just that...

Holy fucking shit. Did she figure out that I have a huge crush on Satoru?! Is that why she paired me up with him? But I made sure not to make it obvious! No, no. This won’t do.

So after class was over, you had a talk with your professor, begging for her to take the midterm essay on your own. The talk didn’t go well as planned.

Since Satoru is having a hard time catching up with LIT 2000, your professor told you to help him by partnering up in this midterm essay. However, that didn’t sit right with you so you protested, saying that there’s a chance that Satoru wouldn’t help writing the paper which would result into you writing the entire thing yourself. But that was just an excuse not to work with Satoru, otherwise you would get all flustered and nervous throughout the week while working on this midterm essay.

“It is not different from doing the entire essay myself,” you scoff.

“I know, but that is also why I partnered him with you,” she says, making you raise an eyebrow. “You can let me know if Satoru didn’t help with anything at all, which is easier for me to fail him.”

“You’re gonna fail him?” you ask.

“Yes. As you can see, Satoru hasn’t been performing well in my class,” she says, “but I figured you can help him since you’re my top performing student. Can I count on you?”

“There are other top performing students in your class though,” you mumble. Sighing in defeat, you agreed to partner up with Satoru. “Professor, did you know that I have a crush on Satoru? Is that another reason why you paired me with him?”

Silence. She knows.

“I genuinely did not know that until now.”

Crap. She doesn’t know. And I told her?! Holy—

“ForgetIsaidanythingprofessorthankyouforyourtimegoodbye.”

With that, you immediately rushed out of her office and slammed the door shut.

The only reason why you wanted to do this midterm essay on your own is because you won't have to deal with Satoru’s presence. Oh, his presence alone would make you so nervous that your smartass brain won’t even function and you would get all flustered, which is really bad because this might hinder your focus on working on the essay. Not only that, but Gojo Satoru does not take things seriously. A complete opposite of you since you take everything related to academics very seriously. But you realized that it won’t hurt to give a little help for Satoru to not fail LIT 2000.

Meanwhile, Gojo Satoru wanders around the halls of the building, in hopes of searching for you so the two of you can start working on the essay. But before that, he had a talk with his best friend, Getou Suguru.

“Yo, Satoru,” Suguru approached the white-haired man with one hand raised up. “I heard your partner for this midterm is that girl. Won’t this be the perfect time to test that theory of yours?”

“Yeah, well, I’m not trying to get into her pants,” Satoru says and a smirk grew on his glossy lips, ”not unless she wants me to.”

After your talk with your literature professor, you had to compose yourself in the rest room and even practiced a script on how you’re going to talk to Satoru. However, you had a realization that this isn’t going to be the only time that you’ll interact with Gojo Satoru since your professor knows that you have a thing for him. You scold yourself for being so nervous around him, despite being a grown ass woman.

But Satoru is… just so pretty. I can’t even look at him straight in the eyes. Also because I’ve touched myself to the thought of him so that would be awkward as fuck.

When you finally got out of the restroom, you heard a loud voice from behind and the minute you heard that voice, you already knew that it would be him. Looking over your shoulder, Satoru in his white long sleeves, black pants, messy yet gorgeous white hair and those round sunglasses. The tall man approached you with a smile on his face while you try not to melt down the ground that you’re standing on.

“I was looking for you,” Satoru says. “I thought we could start working on the essay so we can finish it ahead of the deadline.”

“You—uh, you want to start working now?” you ask, but a hint of nervousness in your voice.

“Yep!” Satoru gives you a smile and a thumbs up, and suddenly, he leans down on your face and brings his lips closer to your ear, making you shiver. “Just between you and me, I think professor is failing me this semester.”

Your eyes widen when he mentioned that.

Could it be that he heard your conversation with your professor earlier? Did he also hear the part where you told her that you have a crush on Satoru? That would make him think that you’re a complete loser in your 20s and in college yet you act like a teenager with a crush. But it’s not your fault that you’ve rejected so many guys because they’re not your standards and it’s definitely not your fault that you reject them because they’re not Satoru.

“Why would you think that?” you ask.

“Mmm? Because I haven’t been performing well in her class.” he grinned.

So he knows.

“Uh, let’s start then,” you say before walking pass him until he asked where you’re going. You look over your shoulder and said, “the library. It’s where I usually do my tasks if not in my apartment.”

“The library is too… quiet. So we’ll work in your apartment instead!”

It’s a library so it would be quiet. And did he just decide that on his own? God, he’s so stupid, I love him.

Your apartment is not far from your university. The reason why you had an apartment for yourself is because you don’t want another person taking up space and you most definitely don’t want to live with another person that you barely even know. And you’re not bothered that you’re living off-campus. It just makes it easier for you to live independently.

When the two of you got in your apartment, Satoru’s cerulean eyes scanned and observed the place. It was neat and everything is organized. But the thing that caught his attention is the stack of books next to the balcony of your apartment. Four stack of books that almost reach Satoru’s waist and he’s a tall guy. He knew that you read a lot since every time he takes glances at you in class, you’re either reading or writing something so he knows that you like reading, but he didn’t expect you to like it that much.

“Sorry, it’s a mess here,” you mumble. “Let’s get started.” You sit down on the wooden floor as you place your laptop on the coffee table adjacent to Satoru who is now sitting on the couch.

“I forgot my laptop.”

You blinked. Twice.

“Sit next to me.” he mumbled.

And that’s what you did despite being flustered at the thought that it’s only you and Satoru inside your apartment. The thought has you squeezing your legs together as you try to listen to Satoru about his ideas regarding the midterm essay. However, your thoughts were making your mind foggy and you couldn’t think straight. It’s awkward that on this very couch, you’ve touched yourself to the thought of Satoru and now, he’s sitting right next to you.

“Hey,” Satoru calls out. “You okay?”

“Mmm, yeah…” you mumble. “Since, uh, since professor asked us to analyze a chosen text from the 20th century regarding its social context, let’s choose a piece first to write about first. Do you have anything in mind?” you ask, trying your best to not make eye contact with him now that he doesn’t have his round sunglasses on.

“I have a few,” he says. “How about The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath? Or No Longer Human by Dazai Osamu? Ah! I know. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck.”

“Am I the only one who didn’t cry my eyes out at the end?” you ask.

“What? You did not cry your eyes out at the end?! Are you even human?” Satory’s eyes widen, looking at you with shock while your eyes are locked on your laptop as you type. “I had snot coming out of my nose that soaked the pages of my book when I read that.”

“First of all, that’s disgusting. Second, it was sad, I admit, but I didn’t shed a tear. It was really good though so kudos to you, Mr. Steinbeck.” you chuckle. “Third, I gave it a five stars so you don’t have to attack me.”

Satoru laughs, making you flustered all over again. This is the first time you’ve heard him laugh this close and he’s laughing because of you, and you like it of course. You like that he’s comfortable around you and you like that he’s still himself despite you being awkward around his presence.

“You know, you’re actually fun to be with,” he says. Satoru’s legs are crossed while his elbow is resting on the arm rest and his cheek is on top of his closed palm as he stares at you with his pretty cerulean eyes. “But why can’t you look at me in the eyes?”

You gulped, squeezing your legs together since you can feel him staring daggers at you. Satoru seems to notice your action and a smirk formed on his glossy lips. Satoru moves closer to you, almost like you can feel his hot breath touching the sensitive part of your neck, making you shiver.

“Are you scared of me?” he asks and the only answer you could give him is by shaking your head, telling him that it’s a no. “Hmm? Then why can’t you look at me?”

You didn’t answer.

“Look at me,” he demand.

This time, you feel Satoru’s fingers making its way down your chin, making you face him and look up at him but despite his actions of forcing you to stare into his pretty cerulean eyes, you didn’t protest at all… because you like every single move he’s making on you. Satoru’s other hand glides down your arm, feeling your soft skin that made you shiver because of his warm touch.

When your eyes met his, you couldn’t help but melt on your seat. And it’s not just because Satoru is staring at you.

“There you go,” he chuckles. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now tell me, sweetheart, why are so flustered around me?”

You couldn’t form the words. Of course you can’t. How could you even continue to talk when Gojo motherfucking Satoru is so close to you that his hot breath is almost touching your skin and his hands are caressing your arms and chin, leaving you no choice but stare into his eyes. Not to mention the smirk that he has on his glossy lips.

“T-that’s because I… I—fuck.” you curse under your breath, trying hard to compose yourself and break eye contact.

“Do I make you nervous? Is that why you’re squirming and squeezing your leg so much?” he chuckles.

You bit your lips—hard—trying to wake yourself up and check if you’re having another wet dream about Satoru again. Fortunately, you are fully awake and the person right in front of you is the real Gojo Satoru. Not your fantasy, not your dream, but real. It was hard you to believe that something that you wanted for so long finally came true and you most definitely won’t let this moment go.

“S-Satoru…” you whisper, almost inaudible.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks with a smile on his face. “Is there something you want? Or need?”

He knows what he’s doing. He definitely knows what he’s doing.

“Touch me…” you mumble under your breath. “Just—touch me, please.”

With that, Satoru chuckles before leaning in towards your ears. His hands trailing down, from your chin down to your neck and wraps his slender fingers around the base, but not too tight. Just enough to make you squirm and squeeze your legs even more.

“If the shy girl wants it then who am I to refuse?” he whispers, his hot breath touching your skin that caused the hairs of your body to stand up.

Suddenly, you feel a wet yet hot sensation make contact with your ears, making its way down your jaw while Satoru’s hand tilt your head to the sides to give him more access of licking and kissing your jaw and neck. Your back touched the arm rest behind you as Satoru slowly pushed you down. He held both your thighs, positioning them to open so he can stay in between them as he kisses your neck down your collarbone, leaving bites and marks.

As Satoru devours your neck and collarbone, his hand expertly unbuttons your shirt while the other caresses your thighs, his fingers making circle patterns on your skin. When your buttons are finally undone, Satoru opens your shirt so he can clearly see your body underneath him. He pulls away from you so he can properly enjoy the view then pulls his shirt over his head.

Your half-lidded eyes earlier suddenly widen when you saw the perfect view of Satoru’s body. A body that was almost carved by the gods themselves and that wasn’t even the main attraction that caught your attention. It was the veins running down his crotch and that fucking v-line.

“You like the view from down there, slut?” he chuckles but then he noticed how you whined and squirmed underneath him when he called you slut. “Oh? Did you like being called that?”

You nod. But Satoru doesn’t take that as an answer so his hand made its way down to your neck again but he wasn’t squeezing it too hard.

“Yes,” you say. “I like it, Satoru. Like it when you—ngh—when you call me a slut.”

“Good. Because that’s what you are,” he mumbles as he leans down to your chest, leaving marks and kisses. “Such a shy little slut for me.”

But the white-haired man scoffs because your bra is in the way. He didn’t bother taking it off by clasping it. He just pulled it down to expose your nipples and didn’t waste any time to lick and suck your sensitive bud, making you arch your back. Satoru’s fingers pinch your other nipple while his knee keeps on pushing and adding pressure on your sensitive pussy, still covered with your now-soaked panties.

Satoru continues to feast on you body while you squirm and moan underneath him. When he was finally done with your tits, Satoru’s kisses went even further down until he reached your skirt. Being the impatient asshole he is, he didn’t bother taking them off and just lifts it up, exposing your panties that has a wet area because of your arousal.

A smirk grew on the white-haired man’s lips and didn’t hesitate to touch the wet area using his index and middle finger. He pushes his fingers on your sensitive bud with enough pressure to have you arching your back. Satoru might be an impatient man but of course he would take your panties off to have better access on your soaking pussy.

Realizing that your cunt is now exposed of Gojo motherfucking Satoru, your hand instinctively covered your pussy as if he did not just suck your tits earlier. But seeing your pussy is different. Of course you’d be shy and flustered. He’s Gojo Satoru, for god’s sake. He’s seen more pussy other than yours.

“Don’t get all shy on me now,” he mumbles. “Take your hands off or I’ll tie them together.”

With that, you slowly took away your hand, letting him see your soaked pussy.

“Don’t hide yourself from me,” he smiles. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

Satoru leans down so he can easily make contact with your cunt. His fingers rub your slit, soaking it with your juices and you couldn’t help but arch your back. A smile grows on his face and suddenly, you can feel him insert a finger inside your cunt, making you whine. His thumb draws circles around your clit that made your thighs quiver until you feel another finger being inserted inside you.

Satoru plunges his fingers in and out of you yet in a slow and sensual pace. He can feel your walls clenching around his fingers as he inserts his digits back. A smirk forms on his glossy lips and plunges his fingers even deeper, deeper than you could reach yourself.

You’ve fingered yourself before but—god, this was so different than what you would usually feel. Is it because his fingers are thicker and longer than yours? Or is it because he’s so fucking good at it?

“Ah! Satoru!” you whine. “R-right there! Right there, please!”

The squelching noise that your pussy and Satoru’s fingers are creating together as well as your wanton moans filled the air of your apartment. You didn’t care how loud you were. You didn’t care if the walls are thin and you didn’t care if your neighbors hear you. You didn’t care about anything else, you just want Satoru to make you cum with his fingers.

Satoru’s pace becomes even more faster, but he figured that it wasn’t enough. Of course it’s not enough. He wasn’t satisfied with just using his fingers.

So he leans down and lolled his tongue out, not even hesitating to lick your sensitive clit, making you jolt and arch your back when you suddenly feel his tongue circling around your clit while his fingers plunge in and out of you. Your legs start to quiver and squirm. The sensation was too much for you that you couldn’t help but close your legs. But Satoru wasn’t done so he grips your legs apart and held the back of your thighs to keep you in place.

This time, Satoru pulls his fingers out and held your thighs in place but his tongue is doing all the work now, licking and sucking your poor overstimulated pussy. Your eyes suddenly widen and your back arched when you feel Satoru insert his tongue inside you, plunging it deeper that his nose is touching your clit.

“Oh, fuck! Satoru! It’s—ngh—too much! I can’t—!”

Your whines and moans continue but Satoru was too busy eating you. But he suddenly pulls away to look at your view. You look so fucked and he didn’t even used his cock yet.

“For someone who’s shy and quiet, you’re being awfully loud for me, sweetheart.” he chuckles before devouring your cunt again.

Satoru can already feel that you’re close. He knows you’re close so he used his thumb to rub circles on your clit and that’s when you completely lost it.

Your legs quiver on Satoru’s grip when you feel your orgasm rip through you. The sensation that Satoru made you feel had you seeing stars, something that you never felt before whenever you touch yourself and this might’ve been the first time that you came this intense. And it felt so fucking good.

Seeing your fucked out state, Satoru chuckles as he watches you catch your breath after that intense orgasm.

“You still with me?” he asks. “I haven’t even used my cock yet!”

“Then use it. Fuck me, Satoru… I want your cock inside me, please.”

“Kiss me first. Come up here and kiss me.” he smiles.

You didn’t hesitate to sit back up and reach for Satoru’s face. Your hand made their way to his cheek while the other caresses his soft white hair. He returns the kiss and inserts his tongue inside your mouth, writhing and swirling against yours. This time, Satoru settles himself next to the arm rest, laying down on the couch while his head rests on the arm rest. Now, you’re on top of him, kissing his glossy lips and grinding your aching pussy on the bulge of his pants.

“Why don’t you do the honors and take my cock out?” Satoru smirks in between your kisses.

And who were you to deny that?

So you unzip Satoru’s pants, bringing it down to reveal the bulge inside his boxers. His cock sprung free when you slid down his boxers, slapping against his lower abdomen. Its size and girth has you gulping because you haven’t seen a cock that big. Sure, you’ve fucked yourself using your dildos but none of your toys compare to Satoru’s cock. A prominent vein runs along the underside of the base of his cock, its pinkish head is releasing pre-cum that drips down to the base.

You didn’t have any idea what you were doing when you had the urge to suck Satoru’s cock. But the white-haired man didn’t have any protests, of course. In fact, his hand is guiding your head to suck on his pulsating cock. After realizing that you didn’t need any guidance, Satoru lets you do your thing.

You let your tongue swirl around the base of his cock and despite it being deep inside your throat, you’re barely even gagging as you take him deeper that your nose is touching his nicely trimmed hair. You continue to suck and lick Satoru’s cock, making him release pretty moans and groans and curses under his breath.

When he felt himself getting close, Satoru couldn’t help but grip your hair and guide your head even though you’re sucking him so well. He just needed something to hold on to and your hair was perfect.

“Ah, fuck! I’m gonna cum. Shit!” he moans until he feels himself release inside your throat. Satoru lets you pull away. Your saliva and some of his cum is leaking down your chin, making him wipe it using his thumb.

“Holy shit. That was so good,” he chuckles. “You sure it’s your first time sucking cock?”

“Uh, well, I-I had some practice,” you say, “with my… toys.”

“Who knew you were such a horny slut?” Satoru didn’t let you answer when he told you to—

“Sit on my cock,” he says. “Sit on my cock and ride me like what you do to your toys. I bet they won’t even compare to mine, huh?”

You gulp before climbing on top of him again. Satoru uses his hand to snake down his head as a pillow while his other hand holds your hips. Positioning yourself on top of him, your hand holds the base of his cock while the other is clinging on the head rest of the couch to support yourself.

You lower yourself down on Satoru’s cock and you couldn’t help but whimper and bite your lips when the tip of his cock finally went inside you. His cock is far more thicker than any of your toys that it has your legs quivering and shaking yet you still continued to lower yourself, taking all of him inside you.

When you stopped, Satoru looks up at you.

“Why’d you stop? You’re not even half way there.”

“What?” you whimper. “Is it t-that big?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “It’s that big.”

Without answering, you continue to lower yourself. Satoru is staring at how your pussy is taking him all in and how you’re struggling to. You’ve done this numerous times on your toys before but riding a real cock—his cock—is far different from that feeling, mainly because Satoru is big.

“It’s so—ah—so deep, Satoru. I don’t think I can—can’t take more.” you whimper.

“But it’s all inside you now,” he smiles. “Ah, fuck. You feel so good.”

To ease the feeling, Satoru lets you cockwarm him while his thumb rub circles on your sensitive clit. When you finally feel at ease and ready to ride him, Satoru places his hand on your hips to keep you in place as you bounce up and down on his cock.

The squelching noises every time his balls meets your skin fills the air of your apartment once again, accompanied by your loud moans and Satoru’s groans.

You can feel the tip of Satoru’s cock hitting the sweet spot of yours that has you clenching around him and every time you look down at the lewd sight below you, you can see a bulge forming on your lower stomach whenever you sink yourself down on Satoru’s cock. Although you seem to be fine riding him and taking all of his cock, you couldn’t look at him straight in the eyes and you even use your hand to cover the lower half of your face since his cerulean eyes are staring right at you.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, slut. You’re riding my cock and yet you still have the nerve to be shy? C’mon, don’t hide yourself,” Satoru grins when he grips both of your hips and lowers you down.

“Ah! Satoru! What are you—ah!”

You couldn’t seem to think straight when he took the initiative to guide you on his cock in a fast and rough pace. Every time he sinks your body down his cock, his hips would thrust up and meet your movement, making the lewd noises even more louder and harder than before.

“Ngh! Fuck, ‘Toru! It’s so deep! So good!”

“Yeah? It’s better than riding those plastic cocks you own, huh?” he chuckles, followed by a moan. “God, you feel so fucking good. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“‘m gonna—gonna cum, Satoru! ‘m so close! So close!”

“Do it. Cum on my cock.”

With that, your orgasm rip through you once more. Your legs quiver on top of Satoru and your chest making rapid up and down motions, letting you catch your breath while you half-lidded eyes try to open despite being fucked out after releasing another intense orgasm, but this time, on Satoru’s cock.

When you decided to get off Satoru’s still hard cock, he tells you to—

“Bend over the couch.”

And who were you to disobey?

Satoru positions your upper body to bend over the arm rest of the couch, placing a hand wrapped around the back of your neck. Wasting no time, Satoru plunges his cock inside of you again, making you let out a muffled whine.

This time, Satoru didn’t let you relax on his cock and continues to pump inside you in a fast pace. His hands grip your hips as he thrusts in and out of you. His gaze his on the lewd sight of your pussy taking him all in, observing the white ring around his cock.

Who knew he’d be fucking the smartest and shyest girl in his literature class? Who fucking knew that that shy and quiet girl is secretly a horny slut who is begging for him to fuck her harder until she can’t think?

“Oh, fuck! Satoru! Yesyesyes! Fuck me harder, please!”

“Easy.” he mumbles before fucking into you so deep that it reaches your cervix, making you grip the sheets of the couch and whine so loud that you’re sure that everyone in your apartment building heard how you’re being fucked so good.

As Satoru keeps his rough and fast pace consistent, you couldn’t seem to let out coherent words anymore and your eyes are now teary from the pleasure that Satoru is giving you. Your toes are curling and your hands are gripping the sheets as you feel yourself releasing another intense orgasm out of you.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum—gonna cum! ‘m close, Toru! Satoru! Fuck!”

“Yeah, cum on my cock again! Oh, god. Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck!

Satoru quickly pulls out of you before he can release. His hand pumps his cock, releasing his cum on your back while your thighs are now soaked with your juices that drips down your legs. The two of you catch your breath but Satoru pulls you in to kiss you.

“You just proved me right, sweetheart,” he mumbles in between your kisses. “Now let’s work on that essay, yeah?” he pulls away and smiles, as if he didn’t just fucked the words and ideas out of you.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader

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taexoxosgf · 4 months

Text

THIS DECEMBER

PAIRING park jisung x fem!reader | ft. friendgroup!nct dream

WORDS 5k

SYNOPSIS Your horny friends try to pull a little prank on you in the days leading up to Christmas. One thing Park Jisung likes to remind them is: he totally doesn’t want any part in it. Except, he totally does.

WARNINGS smut, ANGST, fluff, lots of dialogue, vag fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, vanilla vanilla vanilla, they're in love basically

NOTES I have to admit, this isn’t my best work lolllllll. though this was supposed to be posted on christmas, this can be my new years gift! 2024 here we come babyyy

★ Part of A Dreamy Christmas Collab!

“Why don’t we all be her secret Santa?”

“What are you talking about?” Jaemin chuckles, eyes dancing as he seems intrigued by the idea. But what pervades his mind was nothing like what Donghyuck was about to propose.

“Think about it…” he trails. “She used to say, if it’s an SOS, and we need help in that department,” he points to his crotch– “She would help us out.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” Jisung rolls his eyes when he catches on to Hyuck’s sudden idea.

“So you’re saying we all get her a present?” Chenle asks.

“Yes… But we all have to give her the same… present,” he walks between each of the men like a devil hovering over their shoulders.

“Hyuck, just get to the point,” Jeno huffs.

“Okay, bu–”

“No ‘buts!’ Get to your point,” Renjun groans.

“The gift we’re giving her can’t be put into a shitty little box.”

“Oh my god, NO!” Mark whines.

“What’s so wrong with a little fun?”

“Are you seriously suggesting an… orgy?”

“No, you idiot,” Hyuck pinches his nose bridge. “Let’s all give her our present one by one leading up to Christmas… Like an advent calendar,” he shrugs, unable to hide the pride beaming off of him from the simile.

“So you’re suggesting we all have sex with her in the days leading up to Christmas? Am I hearing this right?” Jaemin intervenes once more, orbs gleaming with interest.

“Ding Ding! We have a winner!”

“Jisung’s right. You’ve gone insane,” Renjun fully laughs.

“You know I’m insane, and that’s why we have fun. But you know what? Let’s make this more interesting… When we tell her after Christmas, the person who she says is her best fuck, get’s her secret Santa present,” Hyuck smirks. “You know she goes all out.”

“I’m in, but it might be hard for Mark because he’s actually in love with her,” Jaemin turns his body towards his friend who avoids eye contact before offering a retort.

“Why just me? You guys are all in love with her!” His claim is met with a group of huffs and groans.

“How do you know she’ll even agree to this?” Jeno points out, earning a nod from the others.

“She doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want to. If she does, then great! Amazing even! But if she doesn’t, then man, I feel kinda bad because we all got a thing for her.” Hyuck accepts the facts of the predicament. “Hopefully we can laugh about this on New Years.”

“I don’t. I guess I’m the only one,” the youngest of the group speaks out but it’s not taken seriously by his older friends as a fit of laughter echoes within the small space.

Hyuck’s the first one to speak– placing a hand on Jisung’s shoulder, “You’re the worst out of all of us.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You guys always bicker and talk shit but I know all you want to do is rip each other’s clothes off,” Jeno jumps in. “Nice try though. I almost believed it.”

“I’m not! She’s annoying as hell!”

“So annoying you want to fuck it out of her, right?” Jaemin joins.

“You guys are jumping me right now, I’m leaving,” Jisung excuses himself earning a look of victory from his friends.

“Wait! So you agree to it, right? Jisung?! Hello?” Chenle and Renjun yell out in unison, but the only reply heard is the slam of a door.

“You’re serious about this Hyuck?” Mark asks one last time.

“No, but this is just so those two kids will finally admit they’re down bad for each other. I think this will be their breaking point.”

“Damn,” all the other boys yell in unison.

“I know right? Someone needs to hire me for something! I don’t know for what, but something!” he crosses his arms to bask in his actions.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mark laughs at his friend. “You’re so dumb.”

“Just wait and see. He won’t make it to Christmas…”

Everyone is being… weird.

On the very first day of December, you and all your friends come together to pick a name out of a jar. The game of Secret Santa is an annual tradition you love partaking in. But once the weather dropped thirty degrees, all the boys started acting shady. They were canceling plans with you on purpose, avoiding eye contact when you spoke to any one of them, and just running away the first chance they got. It was easy to get mad, even call them out for it, but the replies would always be the same– that there was nothing wrong or they were just tired.

And you’re not going to lie, it was starting to make your skin crawl. The sudden shift in dynamic between you and the boys has you wondering if you did something wrong. But if they were trying to pull something, then they had another thing coming. It was frustrating, trying to shake it out of them in every way possible, but no one would budge.

December eighth rolls around and you know everyone is free today because you all collectively promised Sunghoon that every year until the day you die, this day will always be open for him. It’s always an annual trip to the snowy mountains– a secluded cabin and powdery snow that’s fit for snowboarding. Surprisingly, but not so surprisingly, everyone’s busy up until the car ride to the cabin.

Their persistent avoidance, even for an event like this, just pulls on the strings even harder.

You’re leaning against the island of the kitchen, glaring into their souls from across the room as the music's bass reverberates throughout the warm cabin; and the bitter liquid in your plastic cup disappears like water down a drain.

“Why are you standing here all by yourself?”

You turn to the voice, sporting a grin once you realize who it is. “Hey, birthday boy. Just glaring at the boys. Don’t know if they notice though,” you squint a little harder, hoping they’ll finally notice.

Sunghoon’s orbs follow the seven of them scattered around the living room. “They notice alright. I’m sure they’ll come crawling back when they realize you don’t play.”

“Oh, they know I don’t. But they’re still gonna try anyway,” you let out a heavy sigh. “I just wish I knew what they’re up to. It’s killing me.”

“Just ask Jisung.”

“Why Jisung?” The mention of your friend’s name causes the subject of your orbs to shift to him, but he’s already looking your way. When you make eye contact, he hurriedly glances away, confirming the suspicion that something’s up.

“I feel like whatever they’re planning, he’s telling them he doesn’t want to do it.”

“Why is that so detailed? Do you know what they’re up to? Spill right now!”

Sunghoon shakes his head in denial, raising the cup to his lips before responding. “Nah, you guys are always going at it. That’s all. It’s just a hunch.”

“Fine, maybe I will. But I was gonna do it anyway.”

You’re already making your way towards Jisung when Sunghoon blurbs out. “If it doesn’t work, I’m always available.”

“You wish, Park.” But you stop in your tracks. “Wait, what?”

Sunghoon walks off in a hurry, “Nothing! Had to try at least once!”

Rolling your eyes at the birthday boy, you finally make your way to your destination but all seven of your friends go completely mute once you reach it. There’s not a sound emitting from them, and it practically forces smoke out of your ears.

“Okay, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Jeno murmurs.

“You guys have been ignoring me ever since December started! Spill your evil plans right now!”

“Nothing’s going on,” Chenle adds, but it’s met with a crack of his voice at the final word, and you know one hundred percent they're lying.

“Haechan! I know you’re the mastermind,” you turn to your friend, but all he does is shrug, eyes still looking everywhere but yours as he nonchalantly sips from his drink.

“Nothing whatsoever. We’ve just been busy that’s all,” Jisung speaks out, but you chuckle, knowing he’ll eventually give in if you press him hard enough.

“Of course, you’re a part of this! Sunghoon told me you weren’t, but I doubted him as soon as those words left his mouth!”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jisung’s tone changes, as if he’s warning you.

“That little shithead!” Jaemin groans.

“I knew it!” you exclaim.

“What did he tell you?” Renjun interrupts.

“Nothing, just what I said before.”

“Nothing is going on. You don’t believe us?” Jisung is still firm on his decision to make you believe otherwise. With that stupid smirk he’s trying to hide and how his form influences you to shift back.

“Of course, you’re still on that even though Jaemin just admitted you guys are planning something! You’re the worst!”

“And you’re a dumbass,” Jisung mumbles once you turn away.

“Look who’s fucking talking,” you don’t realize you’re stepping closer at every syllable exchanged and you don’t know why your friend loves to push your buttons so much.

“You always say I’m the worst and then you come right back. I don’t think you hate me as much as you say you do,” Jisung’s eyes glimmer with a playfulness to them, closing the space between the two of you as the bickering reaches its climax. But his words only fuel your rage.

At this point, you can only see red.

All you do with Jisung is bicker or fight about stupid shit. Your friendship with the other boys is the glue that holds you and Jisung together. No one could guess that you met all the boys through him. You both had been friends with benefits long ago— practically another lifetime. But you’d jump off a cliff before admitting that the shards of glass remain. And that it still cuts.

It’s impossible to act like everything is fine and you both can get along. So instead, you fight and fight until no more words can be said.

“Ooooo,” you hear Jeno say, reminding you you’re still in a place full of swarming bodies.

“What about you? You either hate me or you love me. It can’t be both,” you mutter, condemning yourself as you catch a glimpse of his lips hovering above yours. You're both staring one another down, and you notice the same vein on the side of his temple, and his jaw clenches with each phrase that escapes your lips.

“Watch it,” Jisung seethes.

“What? If you wanna play this game, let’s pla—“

“Okay! Enough of this,” Hyuck groans before dragging the both of you by the wrist and out of the main room.

“What are you doing Hyuck?” you urgently inquire, but he doesn’t reply. He only hurriedly rushes along, throwing you both into a bedroom you don’t recognize. And as you rush to escape the enclosed space, your friend shuts the door in front of your face– leaving you with your hands practically clawing at the door.

“Lee Donghyuck! Open the fucking door right now!” you yell out, unable to comprehend how your friend could think this was a solution. “Open the door before I beat your ass!”

“He’s not going to open the door,” Jisung reminds you of his presence amidst the chaos. “Not until the morning.”

“What?! No. No. No. This is not happening right now.”

“Let’s just sleep. So when we wake up, we can just get outta here.”

You scan the room, realizing there’s nothing for you to rest on except the bed in the center– the one Jisung is currently sitting on. “You think I can fall asleep with everything that’s going on? And I don’t even know what’s going on,” you’re shifting awkwardly, habitually rocking yourself on the heel of your feet following the eye of the storm.

“Just sleep. It’ll be over soon,” Jisung already makes himself comfy, placing his legs under the covers and rearranging the pillow to his liking. He’s too calm. Way too calm for what just occurred.

“Where am I supposed to sleep?”

“I don’t know, figure it out,” he mumbles, lids already fluttering shut. You hate how you admire how long his eyelashes are.

His eagerness to ignore the dilemma influences you to the bed to pry his lids open. As Jisung opens his eyes willingly, you finally take notice of how close you both are. His eyes widen at the proximity and he shifts back to the edge of the bed in surprise. You’re caught off guard because there seems to be something lingering in the air between the two of you. And you brush it off because you know it’s annoyance.

“Just sleep,” he softly lets out before returning to his original position. “Next to me.”

His softness in these last words has you admitting some defeat– realizing fighting won’t solve anything. “Fine.”

There are still zero answers that will satisfy your scrambled mind.

And you’re trapped in a room with someone you can’t stand for more than five minutes.

It’ll be over soon. Right?

You’re fucking drenched.

As the daze of sleep washes over, you notice the stickiness between your thighs. And not the good kind.

It felt as if you just entered the fiery pits of hell.

“What the fuck?” you whine. The air was so humid, you were practically suffocating. And as you turn to the side, you see an irritated Jisung. If you thought you looked gross, Jisung didn’t have a dry spot on his clothing.

You try your hardest not to stare at the clothing sticking to his abs. This is not the time.

“Don’t,” he warns, thinking you’re about to poke fun at him.

You chuckle at the sight of his discomfort, offering a half-assed apology. “Sorry.”

“Lee Donghyuck! Turn off the fucking heater!” he yells out, but there’s no answer.

“Fuck. We’re going to die.”

“I’m not dying here with you. That’s not how I’m going out.”

“Is that so bad? Chill the fuck out,” you roll your eyes.

“Yes it is! I’m gonna kick the door down and beat Donghyuck’s ass.”

You don’t know if it’s the unbearable heat, or the constant fucking attitude from Jisung all night. Maybe it was the pent-up frustration from all the other times you both didn’t get along. But you’ve decided enough is enough.

“What’s your fucking problem?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re always so fucking mad at me. I do nothing and you’re mad. I breathe and you’re mad. It pisses me off! At this point, I should be the one giving you the attitude you give me!”

“And you know what? I always cared what you thought. But not anymore. I’m done caring so pretend I don’t even exist,” your heart is beating out of your chest as the words spill out like vomit.

“That’s no–” Jisung’s unable to finish his sentence when suddenly his orbs follow your fingertips gripping the hem of your top to bring over your head– leaving you in a bra. “Wha-”

“It’s hot as shit and I’m not going to suffer. Do what you want,” you huff, continuing with the removal of your jeans. You notice Jisung's stare lingering on your contours as you eventually pull them off, and it appears as if a million different things are running through his mind when he suddenly glances away and shakes his head.

You’re not going to lie, it’s amusing seeing Jisung’s usual persona falter. Your boldness and the situation it creates masks the uncomfortable predicament the two of you are in. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me like this before.”

“What did you mean by ‘you used to care about what I thought?’” He swallows nervously.

His words have you stopping in your tracks, not realizing your words were true candor. “Nothing, I was just saying nonsense,” is all you can render as you make your way to the bed, but Jisung beats you to it, grabbing your wrist to prevent you from escaping.

“Tell me. Please. I know it wasn’t nonsense,” his voice is like syrup, the usual bite to it completely gone.

You turn to face him, though you regret it the moment you notice how his eyes match his voice. “Well, I cared what you thought because of what we did before we all became friends. And us… Or whatever we are. I don’t know what we are now but I cared about you and what you thought about me.”

“Cared?”

“I still do…”

“Then why do we fight?”

“I don’t know. I guess you hate me so I just returned that energy.”

“I don’t hate you,” he sounds hurt, the similar bite of his voice attempting to escape. “You annoy the hell out of me, but I could never hate you.”

“Oh…”

“You really act like you hate me though,” Jisung offers a small smile.

“I don’t hate you. You’re annoying as hell. And I just don’t know what to do with everything lingering in the air when I’m around you,” you bite your lip at the confession, realizing it wasn’t a very good one. And you see him watch you do so.

“You mean the tension?”

“Yeah… The tension… The tension causes us to fight. Right?” The air becomes more suffocating than it already is. Maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s Jisung so close to you, or how you’re basically naked in front of him.

“What else would we do?” his eyes are still trained on your lips.

“I don’t know,” you murmur not above a whisper. “You tell me.”

“Let me try something,” he takes a step forward, shortening the small space between the two of you. “Promise you won’t get mad.”

“No promises,” you urge, because you’re unsure of what Jisung planned to do after the indirect confessions made in the room today. One things for sure. This territory hadn’t been visited in ages and it scares the shit out of you.

“What are you go–” You’re cut off the lips that make its way onto yours.

When you see Jisung dipping his head down to capture your lips onto his, you're taken aback. However, the minute he makes contact, your legs almost buckle. It's a familiar sensation, and you melt into him as he tests the waters with increasing devotion.

When you reciprocate the kiss, it gets feverish, and your trembling lips work together haphazardly, interwoven with airy sighs. His arms reach for your waist, pulling you into him harder than ever before. He knows your body like no one else, and it drives parts of your brain haywire. It feels like only yesterday that you both would rendezvous.

He groans into your mouth and squeezes your ass as you tug on his hair the way he likes it. It makes you whimper since the combination of the sloppy kiss and the rush of pleasure is far too satisfying.

It feels good. Way too good.

That's why when Jisung pulls away, you chase his lips and he emits a small chuckle at the action. “Tell me you missed me. Tell me you don’t hate me and never did,” his shoulders rise and fall at a rapid pace as he catches his breath.

“I don’t,” you look up at him, and you want nothing more to kiss him again. It feels like all the frustration aimed at him was sexual. It’s honestly his fault for always looking so tempting while offering some smartass retort. “I never did.”

"God, I missed you," he smashes his lips against yours again, this time much more aggressive, and the back of your knees reach the edge of the bed, briefly disconnecting your lips. You laugh, and he smirks before diving back into you as soon as your back comes into contact the mattress.

Something possesses him at that moment, makes his hands glide up the back of your thighs, to kiss down your neck, sucking and biting to leave small bites that he later licks over to soothe the sting. “Know how much you love to be marked.”

“And I know how much you love me choking on your dick,” you giggle, licking a long stripe along his neck up to his jaw.

“You’re dangerous,” Jisung hooks your thong aside, unsurprised when he notices the sticky arousal coating his fingers. “Fuck, I forgot how wet you get.”

“It’s from the heat.” Your words contradict themselves as noises of pleasure leave your lips when he runs his fingers along your folds. Jisung, on the other hand, knows the meaning behind your words like no other. “All this stickiness is from the heat? I don’t think so baby,” he offers some stimulation to your clit and your back arches once he comes in contact with your bud.

You shake your head and he dips his head down onto your neck offering a small kiss against the side of your neck. God, he looks so hot, with the sweat dripping down the side of his temple and his puffy lips from kissing.

The lewd sounds from his fingers running along your folds sends you into a frenzy. You’re attempting to gain more friction, bucking your hips to feel more. You’re so needy for his touch. You've been longing for this touch. "I'll be nice, baby," he says, inserting one finger inside your hole, your walls engulfing him up to the knuckle. Jisung experiments with twisting and curling his fingers, enjoying the way you gasp and pulse around his fingertips.

The wet glide is so satisfying and you moan, basically fucking yourself onto his fingers. “Sung–” is all you can choke out as he begins thrusting with a rhythm you both can’t forget. “Wai–”

But Jisung can’t withhold any longer, not with you looking so pretty underneath him. Not with the sounds that he remembers all too well. His cock practically throbs at these thoughts, begging to be free from its confines when you’re already a mess. He’s pressing against your clit along with the constant thrust of his fingers. “Shit, Sung!” you wail, already foreseeing your high from the short time.

Your nails dig into his forearm, body twitching from the overwhelming pleasure only he can give you. “Oh, fuck,” the words are combined with a moan as your orgasm takes you by surprise, coating his fingers in a creamy pearl substance. It drips down your folds as he pulls away, and the wash of the aftermath runs from your toes to the crown of your head. It’s blissful, but your hunger for him doesn’t stay satiated. “Good girl,” he says as he revels in your figure.

“I need you,” you pant. “Now.”

“Whatever you say, Mom,” he jokes as he pulls his shirt over his head before discarding the rest of his clothing.

“Ewww. Never say that again,” you say, earning a laugh from Jisung.

“Like words ever stopped me before pretty girl.”

He's tugging the side of your panties, dragging them down the side of your legs while practically gaping. He continues with your bra and he gazes, unable to believe everything taking place currently. You're like a dream, sprawled out beneath him. The pretty girl he could never get close to after being so close with.

“Ready?” he asks after he shakes himself out of the trance you have him in.

“Mhm,” you nod.

He pushes inside, sighing into your ear at the creaminess of your cunt. Your arms are wrapped around his neck as he bottoms out, fingers burrowing further into his scalp. Jisung, rather than staying against your neck, takes advantage of the chance to peer at you. When his nose brushes up against yours, all he sees are your lips caught between your teeth.

At the feeling of his big cock inside of you, you clench around him. He groans against your mouth, habitually bucking his hips forward. “Fuck,” you moan out, back arching at the feel of his cock dragging against your walls. Your brain is already a mess and it has been since the moment he kissed you. But Jisung loves how you’re a mess around him. He takes pride in how he makes you feel, and that turns him on beyond belief.

“Move Sungie, please,” you plead and Jisung groans at the nickname you know he loves so much. It’s enough for him to grab your wrists to pin them above your head before he begins moving.

“Sung,” you call out again when he begins to move. His calculated movements have you squirming beneath him, but you’re still perfectly fit against him and it’s as if you both never stopped this routine.

“You’re mine. I’m not letting anyone touch you,” he coos, and you’re quick to agree. “Yours.”

The constant rhythm he keeps has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and you're shivering when he picks up the pace--giving him a look that seems to make Jisung's cock practically explode. He snaps his hips forward, so close to the edge that you shudder at the perspective.

He's fucking you so well that your eyesight is fuzzy, and the brush of his dick against the spot that drives you insane only adds to the sensation. "I-I'm so close," you warn, your irregular breathing hitting his face.

“Wait S-sung-g no.” Just as you’re about to hit your peak, Jisung flips you over so that you’re sitting on his thighs. Though you’re disappointed in the delay of your orgasm, the angle has his cock pushing deeper than before, tip nudging against your velvety walls harshly. “Fuck, I can’t,” you beg as your back arches at the smallest movements.

As fast as words leave his throat, Jisung dips down to suck on your nipple, occasionally leaving purple blossoms. “Wait I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” he says, chuckling when he sees you instinctively grinding forward against his member. “Cream my cock?” He watches your fucked out expressions, loving how your eyes are lined with tears.

“I’m planning on it, “ he smirks before thrusting up into you.

“J-jisung!” you’re a sobbing mess above him as his harsh thrusts sends pure pleasure up your spine. His name falls off your lips like a mantra, and the gibberish he can’t make out only urges him to move furiously into you. Though your brain is a puddle of mush, the band in your lower abdomen is about to snap, so you grind your hips against him with newly found fervor, stimulating your clit in the best way possible.

Jisung watches you above him as his fingers dig into your waist. You’re so beautiful, he thinks. Everything about you, every part of your mind and body he worships, and he swears he’s not going to let go of you this time.

“S-sung,” you moan again and again, and Jisung continues to abuse your boob, kissing up your throat as you inch closer to your high. “So perfect.”

You let out a high-pitched moan at a specific thrust, and your thighs tremble against his. "I got you," he says as he places a gentle kiss on your lips. And after a few thrusts, you're collapsing against him, again repeating his name. You're just a lick away from teetering off the edge.

“I want it so bad,” you blabber against his neck. “S-so close. Don’t stop.”

“Give it to me,” he dips underneath to circle your bundle of nerves with the perfect pressure and you come undone, high-pitched moans and whimpers against his ear.

The mix of cum and the slick from prior allows the glide to be that much easier for Jisung to glide against as he tips over the edge as well. You’re still pulsing and gripping his cock like a vice and it’s a done deal for Jisung. “Inside?”

“Inside me,” you kiss the side of his neck. He feels euphoric as your noises against his ear urges him on and his arms hold you tightly. And after a few more thrusts and desperate hips, his cum shoots inside you. “Fuck.”

It's so much energy that when the sensation of your high washes over you, you collapse against Jisung, who also collapses against the mattress.

“You’re sticky,” you look at his face and admire how good the afterglow of sex looks on him.

Jisung massages little circles across the small of your back in comforting stillness.

“I’m going to murder Hyuck,” he realizes how much the humidity encases the room.

“Maybe not too brutal, because his plan to lock us in here so we can finally make up worked,” you notify him and his eyes light up.

“I think everyone’s asleep. How about we torture them some more?” he smirks at you.

“I say Hyuck isn’t going to get a wink of sleep tonight,” you mischievously grin and it’s enough for Jisung to dive down and continue drowning in your lips.

DECEMBER 31 11:59 PM

“Damn, I can’t believe my plan worked! You guys are attached to the fucking hip,” Hyuck comes over to you and Jisung hand-in-hand.

“Your plan worked for once dumbass,” Jeno butts in abruptly, almost spilling the alcohol in his cup.

“We have no more arguing but I don’t know if it’s worth it,” Jaemin points.

“You guys are like rabbits!” Mark yells out.

“Gross! Not the fucking time! I need to find someone to kiss,” Renjun groans.

“Yeah but everything Hyuck does to end our suffering, it just reappears as something else!” Chenle laughs, earning a middle-finger from the subject of his words.

“Guess you were right. We can laugh about this on New Year's,” Jeno turns to Hyuck.

“Happy new year motherfuckers,” Chenle says before clinking all the cups together.

You turn to Jisung as the clock counts down, his arm around your waist. “Happy New Year, boyfriend.”

“Happy New Year, Girlfriend,” he smiles the hardest you’ve seen him in a while.

“Happy fucking new year,” he says before smashing his lips onto yours.

Happy fucking new year indeed.

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bookofbonbon · 4 months

Text

christmas kiss - coriolanus snow.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader.

Summary: A drunken Coriolanus has a particular Christmas gift request of you on Christmas day.

Word Count: 1.3k+.

A/N: Merry Christmas! Just a bit of light-hearted fun. No hidden or dark motives. Technically based within the "You Keep Him There" universe because it was easier to just take the background from there but, it's during their first year together and she's still very much in conflict with her own feelings.

Coriolanus Snow is drunk.

Drunk and clingy.

It’s simultaneously endearing and disturbing. Endearing because you think there is a certain cuteness about him when he’s drunk; disturbing because it makes you think there is a certain cuteness about him and as far as you were concerned, cuteness and Coriolanus simply did not belong in the same sentence together.

It makes you dislike him more - more so, when he insists on squashing himself in between you and the couch’s armrest despite there being room for an entire other body beside you - on the other half of the couch.

Drunk and clingy.

“I think that was a rather successful first Christmas gala, don't you?” he smiles, completely ignoring the fact that he’s half on top of you.

“I suppose,” you grunt, pulling yourself out from under him and standing.

It was time for bed.

“Wait- where are you going?”

He follows you like a lost puppy.

“To bed, Coriolanus,” you tell him stiffly. “It’s almost midnight.”

You don’t wait for his response. Climbing the stairs two at a time, you don’t bother to look back at him or say good night, instead making haste for your bedroom, your safe haven.

You couldn’t do drunk Coriolanus Snow. You didn’t like his vulnerability or sweetness, his wide eyes and handsome smiles, his easy laugh and pink tinged cheeks. There was no room in your heart to like him and that is exactly what drunk Coriolanus could do, make you like him.

You feel yourself immediately calm once you enter your bedroom - thankful that the two of you agreed that the separation of sleeping spaces would be for the better - however, when you turn he’s standing at your door.

When the hell did he get there?

As if he can hear your thoughts, he says, “the elevator is faster than the stairs.”

You make an ‘O’ with your mouth - of course it was. It had just been put in a couple of days ago, you’d completely forgotten that it was there.

“Right, well.” you compose yourself. “Goodnight, Coriolanus.”

“Wait, no-”

His hand blocks your door before you can close it, an exasperated look on his face and you’re sure, on yours too.

“Coriolan-”

A loud groan emanates from deep within his throat - you back away in caution, he better not throw up on your bedroom floor - followed by an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

“Coriolanus, coriolanus,” he mocks, pulling a face. “You know you don’t have to use my full name every time.”

“Fine, Coco,” you smile, saccharinely.

“What? No! What the hell is Coco?”

“What? Yes! You’re what the hell is Coco” you mock him this time. “What do you want, Coco?”

“Don’t call-” he pauses, thinking for a moment “We’ll discuss that name later, right now I want to discuss my Christmas present with you.”

“What?” you almost laugh disbelievingly.

“No. Christmas presents are not up for discussion. I buy you something, you buy me something and either we like it or we don't and if we don’t then we pretend that we do,” you dismiss him and go to close the door again but it's blocked - by his foot this time- again.

“I want you to kiss me.”

This time you do laugh.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” he folds his arms stubbornly. “I don’t want whatever’s wrapped under that god awful green tree downstairs, I want you to-”

“I kiss you all the time,” you snap.

“No, I kiss you all the time. You never kiss me.”

“I kiss you back.”

“But you don't initiate, you never do” he practically whines. You're surprised he doesn’t stomp his foot too.

“And what makes you think I’m going to start now?”

You could, you absolutely could but, why give him the satisfaction?

“Why not? It’s Christmas, spirit of giving and all that and I want you to give-”

“Fine,” you cut him off. Needing him to stop talking so, you could think - cogs turning in your head.

“Fine?”

"Just a kiss, right? That's all?"

"Just a kiss, that's all," he confirms.

It’s not as if you’d never initiated a kiss with him on purpose, you just weren’t in the business of making first moves when it came to him. It didn't bother you to kiss him - you just didn't know if it was something he wanted. It was impossible to tell, not when he acted one way in public, another in private and another… when drunk.

“But, if we’re making Christmas gift requests then you have to ask me sober,” you negotiate.

“What?” his face blanches, as if he’s seen a ghost. “That’s not fair, it’s Christmas now.”

“It’s Christmas now and Boxing Day tomorrow, when presents are actually exchanged so, if you want your kiss, you have to ask me tomorrow-”

He begins to grumble, “Whatever. There’s only five minutes anyway left till Bo-”

“And sober! You will not be sober in five minutes!” you speak over the top of him. “Now… I’m going to bed and so should you.”

You finally close the door.

You go about your morning routine as usual, Coriolanus nowhere to be seen- not even as afternoon approached and you readied yourself for lunch with your mother’s side of the family.

Perhaps he’d dug himself a grave and instead, went to bed there, out of embarrassment. You breathe a laugh at the thought.

Gathering your things, your sensible heels click against the marble floors as you make for the front doors - an avox helping you into your coat and then opening the door for you.

You clear the landing - and almost forget about the stairs - when the undeniably alive voice of Coriolanus calls out to you as you finish descending the several steps.

He’s dressed for gardening, having obviously been in the greenhouse with his roses this entire time - not the type of gardening you were hoping he was doing.

“Leaving so soon?”

He looks at you with a lopsided grin, not a hint of hangover in the air - probably a result of one of those little experimental concoctions he’s always working on - as he walks toward you, pulling his gardening gloves off and handing them to a nearby avox.

“Not so soon, it’s midday…” you trail off.

He’s close, too close, he smells like roses and dirt - it makes your stomach flip because of butterflies or because you’ll be sick, you don’t know.

“I believe you owe me something.”

“I thought you wouldn’t have remembered, you were very drunk last night.”

“You thought wrong.”

He smiles handsomely, like one of his drunken ones-

“Are you still drunk?”

He laughs, the sound is stupid.

“No, very much sober as were the conditions.”

"You still need to ask."

"For Christmas," he says slowly. "I want you to kiss me."

“Okay,” you shrug and step closer to him.

You can see the way it confuses him but, you don’t let him dwell on it. Placing a hand on his chest to steady yourself, your breaths intermingle as you bring your lips closer to his. There's a searing heat on the small of your back as he pushes you closer to him - if he presses you any closer, you think the two of you might become one. You brush your nose affectionately against his, feel his heartbeat heavy beneath your hand and at the last minute, you veer to the left and press a kiss to his cheek.

Pulling back quickly, you step out of his reach, leaving him a floundering mess as he comes to terms with what you had just done.

After a minute, he says “that was not the deal!”

Offended and perplexed but, even you can see the hint of a smile on his face.

“It wasn’t not the deal. You said a kiss, you never said where,” you laugh, walking backwards to the car and getting in.

“Details, dear Coco, it’s all in the details!”

You don't hear him laugh but you can see his body shake with it.

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo snow #coryo x reader #coryo snow x reader #tom blyth

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ellemj · 4 months

Text

Right Here: 12 Days of Smut #6

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

Summary: The team decides to interrupt your spicy moment with Bucky. The two of you have to sit through a debate about Christmas movies while being as discrete as possible about what's going on beneath the blanket that's covering both of your laps.

Warnings: profanity, teasing, cockwarming, slight exhibitionism, fingering, unprotected sex, sex in a common area, dirty talk, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 1.8k (it's a lil one)

A/N: I let @littlemiss-yeehaw read this first and her biggest concern was that I originally spelled Santa Clause without an 'e' on the end and she wasn't having it. But special thanks to her for catching my embarrassing mistakes and keeping me from having a big head.

It’s so damn big. It’s so big that you don’t know how the hell you’re supposed to sit still and stay quiet enough to make it through the next fifteen minutes until everyone has gone their separate ways for bed. It’s so big that even just taking a deep breath is too much movement for your body to handle. It is so fucking big that Bucky doesn’t know how you’re taking it so well. He knows his size is pushing you right to the edge of your limits, he knows you’re probably feeling more pain than pleasure in this moment, and honestly, all of that only makes him want to hold you here longer.

Bucky probably doesn’t even know that there’s a word for what you’re doing right now. You know he’s still a decent bit behind the times when it comes to modern-day dating and sexual education, so there’s no way he would have the vocabulary to accurately describe what this is. It’s cockwarming. If he knew the word for it, he’d add it to his list of favorite things. He might even go as far as writing it down in that little notebook he got from Steve. It’s the best thing he’s experienced since the first time he slept with you.

“Come on, nothing beats the original Santa Clause movies with Tim Allen. You can’t tell me that you really think Home Alone is better.” Sam says while giving Wanda a look of disbelief. The group has been arguing back and forth about Christmas movies for the last five minutes. You and Bucky had been watching, or more accurately listening to whatever festive flick was suggested first when you’d originally settled in for a movie by yourself. It wasn’t long before Bucky finished up in the gym, showered, and found you looking all irresistible on the couch. You were curled up under your little fleece blanket with a mug of hot cocoa in one hand and the other hand running through your hair. You barely even noticed Bucky when he joined you on the couch, completely invested in the most mediocre movie you could’ve chosen. That’s when he started running a hand up your thigh, innocently at first. He let his fingertips grace your skin so lightly, gliding back and forth from your knee up to the hem of your little pajama shorts. He liked the way you tried to pretend that it didn’t give you goosebumps or make your panties a little wetter than before. He knew that he had you right where he wanted you when he let his pinky finger brush over the fabric of your panties, just underneath your shorts, and you didn’t make a single move to stop him. In fact, you actually spread your legs a little more for him, giving him a silent go-ahead. Somehow, all of that built up and led to where you are now, firmly seated on his lap with your shorts and panties pulled to the side, silently sitting with Bucky’s entire length buried deep inside of you.

The Christmas movie argument drones on around you with no sign of dying off as you fight to breathe as slow and even as you can. Bucky’s impressive girth has always been an adjustment for you, no matter how many times you’ve fucked. He always has to give you a minute or two to get used to his size before pushing himself all the way in, but there wasn’t any time for that tonight. He had been watching the tip of his cock disappear inside of you when you both heard the commotion in the hallway, warning you that you were about to be interrupted by the rest of the team. Your first instinct was to get off of him and take your seat beside him on the couch but Bucky just couldn’t let that happen, so he gripped your hips even tighter and pulled you all the way down onto his lap. You let a whimper escape your lips at the stinging pain you felt increasing with every inch that penetrated your tight little entrance, but quickly silenced yourself and sat still as Bucky arranged the throw blanket just right to cover both of you from prying eyes.

“You’re so fucking tight. If you don’t relax, you’re going to make me cum in front of everyone.” Bucky grunts in your ear, his words so hushed and whispered that no one could have possibly heard him except for you. You take a deep breath, trying your best to relax around him. You focus in on Wanda’s speech about why Home Alone is the superior Christmas movie, but your focus is quickly broken when you feel Bucky’s right hand slip under the blanket and slide along the outside of your thigh. You want to tell him to keep his hands to himself, to calm the fuck down until you can get away from everyone and have a little privacy, but there’s no way for you to do that without revealing your current situation to everyone. So, you sit there, gently biting on your bottom lip as Bucky’s fingers reach your clit and begin rubbing agonizingly slow circles. After a few seconds of stimulation, you can feel the stinging pain of Bucky’s cock stretching your walls residing.

“That’s it, you’re getting used to it, aren’t you?” Bucky whispers, referring to the size of his cock. You let out a sigh but don’t even offer him a nod in response, too scared that someone will start to suspect something’s going on underneath the thin blanket. “My cock isn’t too big for you, huh baby?” Fuck. He knows it’s too big for you, but he also knows how determined you always are to get used to it and take it all just for him. You’ve always been ambitious. Bucky speeds up his actions on your clit, and you’re just starting to feel that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach when he spreads his index and middle fingers apart and slides them further in between your legs. It’s a new sensation for both of you as you feel his fingers slip between your folds and go around either side of where his dick is currently buried inside you. You feel Bucky shudder beneath you at how wet you are for him. He so wishes he could try adding a finger in alongside his dick, but he knows it would be too much for you, especially when you’re supposed to be staying quiet. He’ll save it for the next time he has you all to himself.

You’re sick of the Christmas movie talk. You’re sick of not being able to ride Bucky’s cock until you’re a mutual mess of sweat and cum. You’re sick of sitting here so still and stoic. So, just as you think the Christmas movie talk might be nearing a close, you stretch your arms up above your head and let out an audible yawn. That small movement alone causes Bucky to move his hands to your hips abruptly, gripping you tightly as a warning for you to stop moving. You smile and pretend it’s a smile at whatever the hell Sam is saying about Santa Clause. Testing the waters, you circle your hips once, as discretely as possible. You grind down on Bucky’s cock, letting your clit press against his balls, sending a nice little rush of pleasure throughout your body.

Shit. Bucky needs everyone gone. He needs you alone right fucking now. He needs the chance to flip you over so you’re face down and ass up on the couch, giving him the perfect angle and opportunity to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to remember what holiday you’re celebrating tomorrow. Bucky holds your hips so tightly that he knows your perfect smooth skin will be littered with bruises tomorrow, but he couldn’t care less. He keeps you still on his cock until Wanda and Vision finally stand up and bid their goodnights, heading off to bed. That leaves the two of you, Sam, and Torres. The two men remain in the living area for another two minutes until Bucky’s cold stare and your oddly out-of-character lack of conversational skills drives them both back to their separate rooms.

As soon as Bucky hears the final bedroom door shut in the distance, he’s lifting you off of his cock and tossing you onto the couch.

“Bucky, not here.” You laugh lightly at his impatience.

“Oh, we’re doing this right here. Don’t move.” Just to make sure you won’t move, Bucky places his vibranium hand over your middle back and pushes you down until you’re in the exactly position he wanted you in, before pulling your shorts and panties to the side once more with his right hand and slotting the head of his cock into your entrance. He doesn’t give you the usual amount of time to adjust, since you just sat on his entire length for so long. Instead, he slams into you and then watches as you quickly clamp a hand over your mouth. He doesn’t care how loud your bodies sound as they collide over and over again with each thrust. He doesn’t give the slightest shit that anyone could walk in right now. All Bucky cares about is feeling you come undone all over his cock.

He fucks you with every bit of pent-up frustration he’s withheld for the last fifteen minutes, dragging his cock out of you before pushing it back in repeatedly. You know he’s close when his vibranium hand leaves your back and he uses both hands to grip your hips and pull you back to meet every thrust. With your hand clamped over your mouth still, you fail to warn Bucky that you’re right on the edge of an orgasm, but you don’t even have to. He can feel the way your walls are clenching around his shaft and the way your legs are fighting to spread even more so he can reach impossibly deeper inside you. You want more, you need more.

Bucky snakes his flesh hand between your legs and begins giving your clit the stimulation that it needs to force an orgasm out of you. He fucking hates when you hold it back. As your orgasm rips through your body, causing your legs to tremble and pussy to tighten around his cock even more, Bucky continues to fuck into you until he can’t contain himself. He copies your annoying little move, refusing to tell you that he’s close. You figure it out yourself when you hear a deep groan rumble past his lips and feel him thrust one final time, making sure he’s balls-deep before filling you with his cum. He ends the night with one simple question, as he pulls his length out of you and situates your panties and pajama shorts back where they belong.

“So, do you have a favorite Christmas movie?”

TAG LIST:

@charmedbysarge @gyokujyn @mrsjoequinn @thealloveru2 @nixxaswrld @ordelixx @sweettae02 @frombkjar @hellfirebabe @edelweissbarnes @claireelizabeth85 @fandomsfeminismandme @sunnyhummingbee @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @crist1216 @twlkdead

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #winter soldier #bucky barnes fic #12 days of smut

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rinhaler · 5 months

Note

hii <3 more uncle nanami please? extra smutty hehe <33

still can't get over how much everyone likes uncle nanamin tbh agjdkshlgadsg, enjoy x

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, incest, sex toys, squirting, age gap, manipulation, forced orgasm, ddlg esque.

words: 1.3k

“What’s in the bag, uncle Nanamin?” you ask, blinking up at him so sweetly as he sits on the edge of your bed. He hands it to you, it’s a glittery pink gift page, and your eyes widen with excitement. “For me?” you ask, taking it from him.

“For you, sweetheart.” he nods, watching as you take a long, gift wrapped box out of the bag. You look at him for permission to open it, to which he nods, again. It’s wrapped so meticulously, which doesn’t surprise you in the least. Your uncle is so precise about every little detail. So you try and offer the same in return. You don’t tear into the wrapping paper, you do all you can to open it with minimal ripping. He sees how your eyes widen with fear when the object comes into view, and he strokes his thumb over your thigh. “Don’t be scared.” he tells you.

“I-It’s big…” you tell him, looking at the size of the box and the white Hitachi wand printed on the front. “Is this… a sex toy?” you ask him, innocently. He smiles at that, leaning forward to plant a kiss on your forehead.

He nods, again.

You open the box to reveal the toy, and it’s bigger than you could have imagined. You pull out the wire and plug it into the extension plug down the side of your bed. He watches you, like you’re a child opening gifts on Christmas day. And he chuckles when you turn on the wand and feel how powerful the vibrations are.

You meet his stare again, gulping heartily when you feel out of your depth.

“I— uncle Nanamin…” you pout.

“Awe, you don’t get it?” he asks, and you shake your head. He stands up and locks your bedroom door. He knows you’re home alone but he isn’t willing to take the risk. He’s thankful for his upstanding gentleman exterior, and he’s even more thankful that the rest of the family seems to fall for it. Even you, to an extent. It’s the perfect cover for him to spend this time alone with you. Corrupting you with each visit and moulding you into his perfect little girl.

“Do I use it on my… my…” you feel your skin sear with warmth as you flush with embarrassment, unable to bring yourself to complete your sentence.

“Your little pussy? Yes, sweetheart.” he finishes it for you. His fingers hook under your t-shirt, pulling it over your body to reveal a pretty, blue push up bra beneath. He reaches around behind you and unhooks it, your breasts spilling free as they’re bared to him. He hisses, quietly, enamoured by the sight.

“It’s scary…” you tell him.”

“No, no it’s not scary,” he continues. He pulls you further down the bed until you’re flat on your back. He pulls at your shorts and commands you to lift your ass so he can remove them fully. You’d decided to forgo any panties. You know they don’t stay on your body for long when your uncle is in town. “Gonna make you feel nice… I’ll show you.”

He takes the wand from your hand and puts it down for a moment. You’re already dripping wet for him, he supposes it’s some sort of pavlovian response to his voice at this point. He never fails to find you dripping whenever he sneaks into your room.

Your thighs are pushed into your chest until your knees are by your ears. He traces a finger from your slick clit down to your clenching little hole, his fingers ghosting the entrance until he pulls away completely.

He smirks when you jolt at the sound of the toy coming to life. Your whole body shakes as he teases your inner thighs with it.

“Remember I told you I want to see you make a mess for me one day? This will help.” he reminds you.

“Will it hurt, uncle Nanamin?” you ask him, your body trembles as the vibrations surge through you.

“No, it’ll feel nice. Really nice. It’s just tickling you now, right?” he asks, and you nod, agreeing. “Well. How about now…” he questions, lowering the large vibrating head to your cunt. And the moan you let out is raucous when he finds the perfect angle on your clit.

He covers your mouth, demanding that you be quiet. You’re home alone, yes, but that isn’t to say your family won’t come home sooner rather than later. His eyes are strict, but compassionate all at once. You’re humming, loudly, and dampening his palm as you try to wriggle away from the toy.

“Don’t fight it. Don’t fight me.” he tells you, moving his hand slightly to give you the chance to respond. “It’s good. Isn’t it?”

“Too much!” you yell, “too much f’me!” you cry you, earning his palm sealing your lips again.

“Be quiet.” he warns you, strictly again. “You don��t want to get in trouble, do you? You’ll like it when you cum, so be a good girl and take it.” he commands, turning the vibration setting up a notch.

Your eyes fill with tears and your body convulses wildly. This is nothing, he thinks. And yet, you’re flailing around like this? Your screams are muffled by his large hand, but he longs to drink up every decibel of their true volume. His pants begin to tent and strain and he relishes in the sight of the cutest forbidden fruit he’s ever head the pleasure of handling.

He turns the notch up, one last time.

Your eyes cross and you swear your heart stops beating. You’re cursing, though he’ll never know, as he presses the wand hard onto your firm clit.

“That’s it, good girl, cum for me.” he encourages you, adding the slightest pressure yet again to your trembling clit. “Make a mess of the toy. Make a mess of me. Wanna see, so show me, princess.”

And you can’t resist a direct order from your favourite uncle. You begin spasming, your cunt twitching as you cum. And it’s the hardest orgasm you’ve ever felt. And you feel happy, you think, when you realise how elated your uncle is upon seeing your pussy gush out a fountain of liquid for him.

Your sheets are ruined, completely soaked and you can’t think of anything worse than doing laundry after how spent your little cunt is. But he’ll do the laundry. He’d never expect you to do something so menial because of his demands.

He’s thrilled to see you’re capable of such a feat. His trousers are equally as ruined as the sheets below and he hopes he’ll have time to change before the family returns from their shopping trip.

“Good girl, pretty fucking pussy…” he speaks, though you aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or directly to your cunt. He pulls upward on your skin until the hood of your clit raises, putting more pressure on your overworked pearl. You yelp, helplessly, trying again to escape the feeling. “Sorry, princess, got carried away.” he switches off the toy.

He holds you in his arms for what feels like a lifetime as you try and process what just happened. You’re so wet. And you feel cold. But the warmth of his body caressing yours is enough to feel better.

“D-Do I… can I keep it?” you wonder.

“Yes.” he nods, “If you liked it, it’s yours.”

“Will you use it again? I-It was nice… so nice…”

“Of course.” he smiles, kissing the crown of your head. “And while I’m gone you can use it on yourself. You can make yourself cum whenever you like when I’m not here.”

What you like about your uncle Nanami is how considerate he is when it comes to you. But what he likes most about you is how easy to manipulate you are. You’ll become addicted to that wand and associate it with him. He’s never been worried about you straying and wanting to fuck other guys when he isn’t around. But he wants to be careful. He wants to make sure you remember who you belong to. You need to remember the only man who should make you cum like that.

What’s wrong with a man giving a gift to his favourite niece, anyway?

#💌 — luxe mail #📨 — requests #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #kento nanami smut #nanami kento #kento nanami #uncle nanamin #tw:incest #tw manipulation #tw age gap

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bunnylovesani · 5 months

Text

A Birthday Affair

Summary: It's your birthday and your best friend is making you a cake! Too bad she's left you home alone with her boyfriend, Anakin. She should've known you two had a thing for each other, right?

Content warnings: cheating, p in v sex, creampie, daddy kink

WC: 2.6k

“Alright guys, there’s only one shop that sells the buttercream we need and it’s way at the other end of town.” Padme shouts tiredly, grabbing her coat by the door. “Could’ve sworn I’d already picked some up…but anything for the birthday girl. I might be a while so make sure you keep an eye on the cake in the oven!”

“We’re not that incompetent, Padme.” Anakin rolls his eyes.

“Of course, we got it!” You answer as she leaves and turn to face Anakin. “You should really be nicer to her.”

“I’m plenty nice.” He responds. “And you’re the birthday girl, it’s you I need to be nice to.”

“But she’s your girlfriend. You’re obligated to be nice to her all year round.” You put the empty batter bowl into the sink as Anakin stares at you across the kitchen, leaning against the countertops.

“I’m about as nice to her as she is to me.” He murmurs and you look back in confusion. Were they having issues you didn’t know about?

“That couldn’t be further from the truth, Padme is the perfect girlfriend and you-“ You paused, looking at him up and down with a light scowl. “-well you’re you.”

“Ah, so you think I’m not good enough for her? How cliche.” He gives you a look of displeasure. “And what is it that makes me so unworthy of her company?”

“You’re not bad per se, you’re just…” You sigh, struggling to put your thoughts into words. “Look at it this way- Padme is one of those rare people. She manages to balance being successful and beautiful with somehow being humble and kind- I know for a fact she wakes up every morning to make you breakfast- and she does things like drive all over the city looking for a specific frosting for her best friend. That’s just the kind of person she is.” You ramble on, walking around the kitchen as Anakin stares at you in fascination.

“And then there’s you, who’s forgotten every anniversary and has been fired from every job because of his inability to control his temper. You see what I’m getting at?”

Anakin furrows his thick brows as he processes what you’re saying and you think he might get mad at you for a second but to your relief, he cracks a bright smile.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m just as much of a mess as you are. Just as unworthy.“ You laugh and a puzzling smirk crosses his face.

“So you’re saying I should be with someone better suited for me?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Someone like…you?” He raises an eyebrow.

You chuckle nervously and take a step back, suddenly aware of how close he’d gotten.

“Obviously not. I-I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.” Stuttering, you try to move away from him but he doesn’t budge, tall figure towering over you. That stupid smirk he has plastered over his face increases your heart rate tenfold.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Have I got you flustered?” He sneers.

“Stop playing around.” You push him away by his chest and escape to the sofa, slumping down it with a huff.

“Padme told me about the little crush you had on me.” He stands behind you and you refuse to face him, consumed with embarrassment.

“Crush is too strong of a word for what that was.” You feel your cheeks burning up at the memory; when you first met Anakin at that bar last Christmas, you’ll admit you initially wanted him all to yourself. But what were you supposed to do when Padme got to him first? You can’t believe she told him.

“So you don’t find me attractive anymore?” He asks in that provocative tone of his.

“The outer shell is fine but the inside could do with a little work.” You feign confidence, avoiding the question. To be truthful, you found him incredibly attractive. So much so that you actively avoided him because you felt yourself folding under pressure anytime he was near.

“Can I let you in on a little secret?” He asked quietly, taking a seat on the footstool across the sofa.

“No, but I sense you’re going to anyway.” You brace yourself.

“That night I saw you and Padme playing pool at the bar.” He begins. “I wanted to approach you, not her.”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“But she came up to me first and when I asked her who her friend was, she told me you weren’t interested…in men.” Your mouth widens as his words linger in the air.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” You stutter, feeling a small sense of betrayal run through you. “I don’t know why she’d do that.”

“Because she knew she wouldn’t stand a chance otherwise.” He gets up to sit next to you and you tense up at his knee lightly brushing past yours.

“I thought you were a lesbian for half the time I’ve known you- until you started dating that loser a few months ago and Padme had to come clean. She thought I’d find it funny.” He curls his lip in disgust.

“And did you?”

“No.” He responds, steely eyes staring right through you. “I’m still mad about it.”

“Anakin…” You cautiously murmur, sensing the direction this could so easily take.

“I’m just saying, remember that next time you want to rant about how great she is. If it wasn’t for her deceit, it could’ve been us together.” He rests his hand on your leg but you swiftly brush it off.

“But it’s not. And it never will be. You’ll always either be her boyfriend or her ex. Either way, you’re off limits.” You try to assert some boundaries before your self-control completely slips away from you.

“And if it weren’t for these limits?” He reaches his hand up, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Oh God, the cake! Must go and check on the cake.” You get up, trying to escape his grasp but he pushes you back down.

“I said what if it weren’t for those limits?” He repeats sternly and you can’t help but fixate on his rosy pink lips. You’d always wondered how they’d feel pressed up against yours.

“In another galaxy where you’d never met her-“ You sigh, walls crumbling down. “then I’d be yours.”

“Is that what you want?” His husky voice mutters, barely above a whisper.

“It doesn’t matter because this isn’t another galaxy. This is reality.” You shuffle back a little in an attempt to impose some distance between you.

“Fuck reality. I want you.” He pulls you in and you’re hit with a wave of warmth radiating off his firm body.

“Anakin, no. Padme is my best friend! I’m not a homewrecker.” You cry out, unsure whether you’re trying to convince him or yourself.

“You can’t wreck something that’s already fallen apart. I don’t care about her— I don’t care about any of it anymore. For God’s sake, I even hid the damn buttercream because I wanted her to leave us alone for a while.” Your mouth gapes open at his revelation.

“I knew it!” You point your finger at him but he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you onto him, faces barely an inch apart.

“I need you. In every way possible.” His voice is so breathy it makes you squeeze your thighs together.

“Ugh, Ani I-“

“Do you want me as much as I want you? Please, put me out of my misery.” He whines and you bite your lip over the beautiful desperation in his words.

“Of course I want you, I’ve always wanted you.” The words barely leave your mouth before he grabs your face with both hands and kisses you sloppily, grip on your jaw a little too strong. He has you gasping for air, stubbornly holding onto you like it was the last kiss he’d ever have.

“Don’t you worry about her, I’ll take care of everything.” He rubs your cheek with his thumb comfortingly and you feel all your worries melt away; he was here, he would fix it all.

“I’ve thought about this for so long.” You cry, pawing at him. The sense of elation you felt at finally being able to touch him, inhale him, taste him- after an eternity of forcing every feeling down. You did it all out of respect for Padme, out of respect for Ani who chose her- but now that you’d learned the truth, restraint flew out the window. He should’ve been yours- he is yours.

“Lie down for me sweetheart, I wanna see my pretty girl.” He pushes you down onto the sofa and inches your skirt down, admiring your pretty pink panties. “You wear these just for me?” You nod frantically- it’s true, you wore everything for him. Your best underwear, your prettiest lipstick, your shortest little skirts, it was all for him. He pushes your top up slowly, messy kisses being planted all over your tummy until he reaches your perky tits.

“Is there a reason you’re not wearing a bra, young lady?” He scolds you playfully.

“Mhm, it’s fun watching you fight the urge to stare at the way they bounce and jiggle.”

“You noticed that, huh?” You giggle at his honesty as he rips your top off, laughter instantly replaced with breathy moans as he squeezes your boobs harshly, taking turns sucking on the nipples.

“Best pair of tits I’ve seen in my life.” He mutters into your chest as he continues to kiss and lick all over, making you writhe underneath him.

“Ani, please.” You buck your hips up towards him, desperately needing more. “Hurry, we don’t know when she’ll be home.”

“Then it’s a good thing the door bolts shut from the inside.” He grins, hands trailing down between your thighs.

“Ani, no! We can’t lock her out, what would she think?”

“I don’t care, all I know is if I don’t get enough of this sweet pussy, I’m gonna lose my mind.” He groans as he hooks his arms under your legs and pulls you down, pulling your panties to the side. You bashfully cover your face with your hands as he rubs your clit with his thumb and when you peek through your fingers, you see him biting his lip and curving his eyebrows into a pitiful swoop. Just as you think it can’t get better, he lowers his boxers and frees his cock, heavy length slapping against his stomach. Not wanting to inflate his already engorged ego, you try not to look shocked- but he sees right through you.

“You tryin’ to make me feel bad, sweetie? No problem, I’ll have you squealing in a minute anyway.” He confidently asserts and you feel him rubbing his tip along your soaking folds; the anticipation alone is enough to make you throw your head back.

With one sudden thrust, he pushes himself into your tight pussy and you sink your teeth into the pillow beside you to conceal some of the noise. Reaching forward and grabbing it from you, he tosses it aside and grabs you by the jaw.

“I want to hear every little sound you make. Raw and unmuted.” He growls.

“B-but someone might hear-“

“I don’t give a fuck.” He asserts aggressively. “Let them hear. They might as well start getting used to it now.” You moan at his depraved words, drool forming around your lips.

“If you want something in your mouth that bad, here.” He offers you his fingers- which you accept gratefully, sucking and biting on them to your heart’s content. Just as you’ve adjusted, he slides the rest of his cock in- filling you so deeply you question how it’s even possible. The mewling that proceeds boosts Anakin’s ego more than is healthy; you pant and whine so fervently that you look like you’re on the verge of passing out. Your pupils are dilated, your hair messed up, your thighs dampened with arousal and sweat.

“Ani, mm fuck- fill me up, please!” You dig your fingernails into his back as he lowers himself to kiss your wet lips, silencing your sobs and pleading if only for a moment.

“You want my cum, sweetheart? You wanna be daddy’s cum slut, hm? Let me hear you say it.” His strokes get deeper and sloppier as he hurtles his way to his release.

“Yes daddy, yes! I wanna be your cum slut so bad, it’s the only thing I want.” You ramble, words barely audible over the loud sounds of smacking and squelching.

“I could never say no to you.” He whispers, head tucked into the crook of your neck planting open-mouth kisses.

“I need it, need it noww.” You whine, tits bouncing into circles as he roughly pounds into you, strong hand maintaining a firm grip on your hip as he rams himself into you one last time: cum spilling from his tender cock and filling you up to the brim. Pulling out, the sensation of his cum dribbling out of you doubled with his thumb circling your clit sends you over the edge, orgasm washing over you like a tsunami. He rests his head on your chest as you both catch your breath, running your fingers through his hair.

“I’m gonna leave her.” He softly speaks. “I’m leaving and I’m telling her about us.”

Your heart seizes in both panic and excitement. There’s an us?

The familiar thud of footsteps in the hallway has you both scrambling to get dressed- you pull your top down and your skirt back on but can’t find your frilly panties anywhere. Anakin just about finishes zipping up his jeans when Padme walks in to the sight of her very flustered-looking best friend and boyfriend, sitting oddly far apart in unnatural positions on the couch.

“Hey guys, I had to check several different stores but I finally found the right buttercream, what have you- wait, do I smell something burning?”

Fuck, you forgot the cake.

Running over to the oven, she scrambles to pull out the smoking tray. Despair takes over her face when she sees the round crust, black as cinder.

“How did you forget?! What were you doing?” She yells, throwing the ashes straight into the bin and frowning at you.

“Nothing, Padme. We just got carried away chatting is all. ‘m really sorry.” You walk over to join her in the kitchen but start to feel Ani’s seed leaking out of your stretched-out hole and dribbling down your thighs. Noticing the glistening sticky wetness, Anakin rushes over in front of you to distract Padme.

“It was my fault, I said I’d keep track of time and I didn’t.” He explains, subtly tossing a kitchen towel your way.

“Classic Anakin, honestly a monkey would have better time management.” She hisses, barging past him and opening windows to let the smoke out. “No wonder you can’t keep a job.” He takes a shaky breath and you can see how hard he’s trying to restrain himself.

“Not now.” You think, giving him a knowing glare and he nods reluctantly. Padme stomps over to the bathroom and you quickly wipe the cummy mess off your thighs, giggling a little at the excitement of sneaking around. Anakin rushes over and gives you a feverish kiss, whispering in your ear “She goes to bed early, you know.”

Maybe you wouldn’t tell her just yet.

@crazy4hotmen @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10

Part 2 here

#hayden christensen #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin x you #star wars smut #sam monroe #hayden christensen x reader #anakin skywalker #star wars prequels #darth vader #padme amidala #sw prequels

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moonbaetarot · 1 month

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Pick a pile

How will you and your future spouse meet

1. 2. 3.

Pile 1

Who ever makes the first move is going to have a lot of bravery to make this action towards you. this person or you may be shy and doesn’t usually make the first move. Before you meet you will be letting go of something’s that is mentally draining you this could be a relationship or job. just in this first meeting this person will make you feel safe, comfortable and secure this person will be the calm after the storm. you may meet them online or your first conversation in through text. your future spouse visits you in your dreams so pay attention to them. this person will thank your really sweet but a little crazy in a good way lol. your future spouse has never met someone like you they may be a little speech less at first. You or your future spouse could be an air sign Gemini, Libra, Aquarius or a Taurus. I feel like this person could a friend of a friend like you don’t know them personally but your friends friend does and your like “damn who’s that” and it’s your future spouse. you may try to find there social media I feel like you will be asking around like “who’s this” and “where are they from?” but I feel you will try to be lowkey about finding your future spouse attractive lol. you could meet them around winter or Christmas. you could also meet this person not in your home town or there home town someone will be traving when you two meet. you could also meet in august.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

Pile 2

You will meet your future spouse when you’re having fun and it will be spontaneous like your friend or someone could be like let’s go out on a random Tuesday and you go out and meet your future spouse. you could also go and do something you’ve never done before or learn a new hobby and you meet your future spouse. feel like you will be in a state of boring ness your getting tired of your life and you just wanna change it up, you want a new beginning and you meet your future spouse doing all this spontaneous stuff. y’all’s meeting is something you will always talk about later on in the relationship. Whoever makes the first move will hesitate like “omg should I go up to them idk”. I feel like someone’s future spouse has moneyyy lol they have a big White House like I feel that when you first go over to there house for the first time your going to be like “omg you live here ?!”. Someone here says omg a lot lol I don’t say omg a lot but this pile I am lol. There may be an age gap with you and your future spouse. this person thinks your a sweetheart I feel that you may be a bit closed off then yall meet and you don’t wanna get close with this person because of a past relationship but your future spouse if going to reassure you that you don’t have to worry about them I’m hearing “I’m grown” so you may have an ex that is a bit childish gave you trust issues and not a reliable person but your future spouse is different. you two may meet at night or on a night that the moon is really bright. someone could live near a beach or likes the beach or going on cruises.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

Pile 3

You may meet your future spouse when you moved or bought a new house. you could meet at some type of event a family event. you may be really introverted so when you meet you future spouse your going to be like “wow did I really meet this person right now that’s so random”. When you two meet it’s going to very out of nowhere you either forget about this event going on or no one told you so last minute your going to be rushing to find a outfit, what time you need to be there and where it’s at just a sense of you rushing. someone could’ve had a change of plans like you weren’t even supposed to be there but someone got sick and you had to fill in. I feel Like you the introverted and your future spouse is the extrovert or the other way around. Your future spouse feels that your confident even if your not it’s just the way you carry yourself they see you as very youthful. you may look very young or younger then your age they see you as someone who gets things done someone who is independent. This person may see you as a competition at first like they think your to good they wanna know like what’s the catch to you. they don’t really know how to talk to you at first but this is your future spouse so I guess they find a way lol. there is a sense of not knowing what they are going to say or what there next move is they are scared your not going to feel the same way. someone here may love fishing or went fishing a lot as a kid. y’all could meet In January or September someone could be a Virgo, Taurus or Aquarius or had it in your chart.

Thank you reading loves! 🤍

#pick a card #pick a photo #pick a picture #pick a pile #pick an image #tarot cards #tarot deck #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #daily tarot #tarot #pick a reading

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writingsbychlo · 4 months

Text

KNOW YOU LIKE I DO | tom riddle

summary; love letters are tom's way of communicating. unfortunately, he's not as good with his actions.

word count; 7036

notes; another one that I said was gonna be short and it wasn’t. I think I’m physically incapable of writing short fics, actually.

Dear Tom,

Tommy.

My Tom.

Do you still have that first letter I wrote to you, back in summer? No, I suppose you don’t, that’s not very like you.

I’m drunk. Just a little bit (a lot), and I can’t take it anymore. Mattheo told me to tell you how I feel, and that is exactly what I’m going to do. He’s asleep on my bed right now, drooling into my favourite pillow waiting for me to write this.

So here it is.

I’m angry. I’m hurt. I’m confused. I’m in love. And it’s all your fault.

Staring across the crowded room, your eyes fixed back onto that of Tom Riddle. It wasn’t hard to spot him, not as he was the only man who came to a Christmas party dressed in all black and sat alone, brooding. His lips were pressed into a line, the lights bouncing off of those shiny curls, green and red splashed across his pale skin as he sipped at his drink, listening to the conversation Draco and Blaise were having, but never participating.

Your heart lurched a little in your chest, just the mere sight of him had a thousand different feelings rearing their heads, and you sighed to yourself. Shaking your head, your attention was redirected to the drinks table, pouring yourself an extra strong helping of Giggle Gin and topping it off. The urge to look back over was strong, and you steadfastly ignored it, suppressing the urge and instead, turning your back to his direction, walking towards the group of girls giggling in the opposite corner.

Taking your seat back in the comfy corner of the sofa, Pansy offered you a smile, her arm looped over Luna’s shoulders as the blonde cuddled into her side. Astoria was currently recounting the intimate details of her latest night with Draco, and you hid a smile in your cup as you tuned back into the conversation.

You lost the battle with your will, however, gaze moving directly back across the room to Tom. He had a slight smirk on his face now as he watched Draco speak, and you did not doubt that he was receiving a tale of the exact same encounter Astoria was currently telling, only from a different point of view.

Blonde cut across your vision, the perfect smile of Daphne blocking your view as she sat in front of you, severing any sights of Tom you might have had. “You know,” She started, grinning as she took a sip of your drink cheekily, before handing it back. “If you stare at him any harder, you’re gonna’ drill holes in the side of his head.”

You could only scoff, but no argument formed. Lately, all you’d been able to do was stare longingly at him across any room. You weren’t subtle, and you’d never been much good at hiding your feelings. Which seemed fitting, since you’d fallen for someone who was like a blank slate, permanently.

Tom Riddle was a harder book to read than a tablet written in a never-before-discovered language.

“He looks so… miserable, Daph.”

She glances over her shoulder at him, snorting a laugh, and turning her attention back to you. “Because Tom Riddle doesn’t go to parties, and he’s probably counting the minutes until he can leave.” She smirked a little, shuffling closer, perched on the edge of her seat as she leaned in, “At least, he didn’t go to parties. Until you, that is.”

Your cheeks flushed, a subtle hint at the running joke your friendship group had taken on. They’d all become convinced that Tom attended parties for you, ever since he’d been a willing guest for the first time at Draco’s end-of-summer bonfire bash, and spent the majority of the night talking with you. They refused to let it go.

“You should go over there and cheer him up. I bet he’d be smiling in no time if you gave him a little attention.”

That was exactly the problem. You’d been giving him a little too much attention, and now, everyone was painfully aware of your feelings for him. Except for him, maybe. Either that, or he was just very good at pretending he didn’t notice, in a chance to let you down gently. You didn’t know which option was worse. “Don’t be ridiculous, Daph.”

“No, you don’t be ridiculous! You and him are… something else.” She took your free hand in hers, squeezing tightly. All amusement melted from her face, and she gave you a serious look. The expression she wore when advising her sister on Draco, or comforting Pansy after a panic attack. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened over the summer, or are you just going to keep acting like it wasn’t some cataclysmic shift?”

“So dramatic.” You hummed to your roommate.

“Still pretending, I see.” She teases lightly, but her brows are still furrowed. She waited a few more seconds, to see if you’ll crack. All you do is hold her steady gaze, and take a sip of your drink. With a sigh, she released your hand, and leans back in her chair. “Well, whatever. We can all see it, see how you two pine for one another, and how perfect you’d be together. Just go and talk to him! He’s probably sat over there waiting for you anyway. He had that exact same kicked-puppy expression on at the summer party, until you walked in.”

“He did not…” You murmur, the very thought making you blush.

“I think that’s the first time I ever saw Tom Riddle smile. A real smile, not the smile he gets when threatening someone, or when Mattheo falls over. A good smile.”

“Now you’re just making him out like some kind of sulky villain.” You retort, and she only raises a brow at you.

“Here, take him this box, and go talk to him. The poor boy looks lost over there without you.” Reaching under her chair, Daphne produces a familiar box, wrapped neatly in black paper with dark green ribbon, and your jaw drops.

“Daphne!—” Reaching out to snatch it from her, your brows furrow. “Did you go through my things?”

“I didn’t exactly go through your things,” She grins, watching you turn over the label with his name written on neatly. “I just watched you hide it under your bed and got curious… it smells good. Is it cookies? Can I have one?”

When she reaches for the box, you slap the back of her hand, and she sticks her tongue out at you in return. “No! You cannot, you little snoop!”

“Fine! If you won’t let me have a cookie, then you have to go over there. You either give me a cookie, or you give me the satisfaction of seeing you and him smile.” Her arms crossed, her tone annoyed but her words caring, and love shone in her gaze as she stared at you. “Go on. Go over to him. Please.”

It wasn’t like you didn’t already want to, and with her encouragement, you were a weak woman to say no. Downing the rest of your drink for a little liquid courage, you hop to your feet, present clutched in your hands.

Weaving through the room, the bass notes of Mattheo’s custom-made playlist pumped through the room from the speakers, a playlist you might have slightly altered a few days ago to add a couple of songs, just to mix up his usual tastes. Your stomach was twisting nervously, but the alcohol in your veins made for a pleasant buzz as the distance between you both closed.

After almost taking a ping-pong ball to the eye, courtesy of Theo on the beer-pong table, you cleared the games and settled into the pleasant atmosphere surrounding where the boys had set themselves up for the evening by the fire. When you approached, Tom looked up, frown melting away as the crease between his brows disappeared, and he sat up a little straighter as you approached.

“Hi, doll,” He murmured, shifting his arm from the armrest of the chair, so that you could take a seat on it instead. That same arm soon wrapped around your waist, his head falling to rest on your shoulder, and your heart skipped a beat within your chest. “Where’ve you been?”

“Over there, with Daph and the girls.” You whisper in reply, balancing the box on your thighs, and pointing through the crowds to the barely visible patch of chairs and sofas you’d all been occupying. He only hummed, squeezing you a little closer.

“Stay here with me for a while?”

“Sure,” Your voice hardly worked as you spoke, emotions clogging up, and you reached for the gift in your lap. “I have this for you, anyway. I made you those cookies you like so much.”

“You did?” His head lifted, and one of those pretty smiles that made your heart stop clean in your chest was adorning his lips. “The ones with the orange peel and the dark chocolate?”

“Those very ones.” You handed it to him, and he tugged at the ribbon covering the box, fingers flipping under the seals of the paper until it fell openly neatly. Flicking open the catch on the cardboard box, the smell of freshly baked treats filled the air, and he made a rumbling noise of happiness as he plucked on up, and took a bite. As you laughed at him, he took another, pushing it between your lips with a smirk while he chewed.

He resealed the box, savouring them, as he did all things, and putting them on the table in front of himself. You held the cookie now, eating it slowly, as Draco and Blaise finally seemed to become aware of your presence.

“I have a question.” Draco started, and your gaze moved to him, brow raising as you took the final bite. “Is Astoria over there talking about me?”

The blond smirked, and you twisted, lifting your legs to sit over Tom, ankles crossing on the opposite arm. “No, no. She’s been recounting a scene from a book.”

“What?”

“Yeah. You know, the fun books. It was really, really hot.” You teased, fanning yourself, and Tom chuckled, reaching over you for his drink, and taking a sip. Instead of putting it back down, he rested the cool glass on your thigh, his free hand coming to sit on your calf, rubbing lightly as you shivered at the touch. “Why? You think you’re better than a good spicy romance?”

“I know I am!” Draco huffed, and Blaise rolled his eyes, watching you wind his best friend up with barely a few words at all. “What book is this?”

“Oh, you don’t want to know…”

“I do want to know! Tell me!” His cheeks were turning pink, all the way up to the tips of his ears. In the spirit of Christmas, you took pity on him, rolling your eyes.

“I think it was called… Astoria’s Diary.”

It took a few seconds for it to register in Draco’s mind, and the furious pink turned to an embarrassed red, and he shook his head, eyes narrowed at you. “I despise you.”

“You love me.” You fired back, and he scoffed, but the edges of his lips pulled at a smile, and he looked away to cover it. Settling back a little more, you leaned into the cushion, feeling Tom roll his head across the cushion to lean in your direction.

“I feel like I’ve barely seen you all week.” He says, voice low for only you to hear, and your head twists towards him You were close, close enough to pick out the different coloured flecks of colour in his eyes as he looked at you, and the hardly visible steaks of lighter brown that trailed naturally through his dark curls.

“Well, I’ve had detention all week, thanks to a certain someone.” You poked his chest, and he only smirked a little bit, shuffling his head a fraction closer.

“I needed you, what can I say?”

“You needed someone to keep a lookout while you snuck into the restricted section again. Why did it have to be me?” You scoffed, working to keep the smile on your face as the answer to your own question flickered through your mind. He chose you because he knew you’d drop everything and come, the voice taunted; you buried it under the song playing and the laughter in the room so you didn’t have to think about it...

“Don’t act like you didn’t have fun when we ran.” He chuckled, hand sliding up your leg again, fingers lacing with your own. The same way they had when you’d been caught, and he’d grabbed your hand, the two of you ducking and weaving between stacks, fleeing through the corridors. Laughing and out of breath, he’d clutched your hand, thumb rubbing over your knuckles just like he was doing now, staring at you with those pretty eyes.

You hadn't been caught, but you had gotten detention for skipping class to go with him, and so you’d spent all five nights of your final week in detention, writing lines. You lifted your free hand, sighing with a nod, and running it through his curls. His eyes fluttered, head tipping back to follow your hand, and a content smile took over his lips.

You loved to see him like this, to see him so carefree and happy, to see him relax at just your touch. You’d never seen him like this before. The thought that only you could do it to him sent a thrill down your spine, made your thoughts feel hazy and slow, like treacle in your mind, and your nerves tingled. So, why had he never made a move to make it anything more? You’d given him a dozen chances, a dozen more opportunities…

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you this holiday.” He broke your train of thought, eyes opening again to peer up at you, and his lips became a frown as he thought about it. “My father is going to pile on the pressure not that I’m in my graduating year. I can already feel the headache forming right between my eyes.”

“Oh..” You coo, hand slipping down from his hair to rub your thumb over his forehead, the space you know him to get stress headaches the worst, when he works too hard or gets wound up. He just chuckled, eyes sliding shut once again.

The song changed, and his body tensed underneath you for just a second, before his eyes snapped open, gaze locked on you. “This is my favourite song.”

“Is it?” You mumble, finger still tracing lightly over his skin, and he nods.

“I didn’t think Mattheo put it on the playlist. I asked him, and he very emphatically said no.”

“Maybe he changed his mind.” Your shrug doesn’t convince him, not as you both hear Mattheo question the song with a stream of curses somewhere in the distance. His lips twitched at the edges, a small smile, but he said nothing else. Instead, he leaned in, your arm going around his shoulders, rubbing softly as his head nestled onto your shoulder, a sigh on his lips.

It was perfect, just like this. If he could just open his eyes and see, he’d know how wonderful it could be. Nobody knew him like you did, he’d made sure to keep his secrets locked up tight. But over the months of exchanging letters, and candle-lit nights in the library, he’d bore so much of his soul to you.

Deep, wounded parts, that you’d tried to put back together.

Soft, tender parts that he protected so valiantly, but trusted you with.

Sweet, loving parts, that never saw the light of day, unless you were together.

It was impossible, surely, that he didn’t know. He might keep his feelings locked up tight, but you didn’t hide yours very well at all. As you sat here now, fingers weaving through his hair, lips tracing his temple as you whispered nonsense to him about your day, his head on your shoulder, that he didn’t know. Even a man like Tom Riddle couldn't miss it, right?

You just wanted to make him happy, but he didn’t feel the same.

With a heart-aching sigh, you ran your fingers through his curls one more time. Unrequited love wasn’t going to ruin your night. Unrequited love wasn’t going to ruin your Christmas. You would not be one of those girls who gave in to their feelings, and crumbled at the feet of a man who didn’t return her affections.

Sitting up some more, he grumbled at the disruption, blinking his eyes back open as he lifted his head again. “I’m… I’m going to go dance, and play some games, okay?”

“Alright,” He smiled, patting your thigh and lifting his drink away. “Have fun. I’ll probably leave soon. If I don’t see you again, just know I’ll be thinking of you over these holidays. We’ll write again.”

His words send a rush of heat to your cheeks, a tumble of nerves through your stomach, and you could only nod. One more chance, one more chance to make a move…

“Merry Christmas, Tommy,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss his cheek. A kiss that was purposefully close to the edge of his mouth, a kiss that purposefully lingered just a second too long as you pulled away slowly, giving him a chance to turn his head, to close the gap, to kiss you—

But he didn’t, he only smiled. “Merry Christmas, doll.”

So, you stand. You brush it off. You brush off the moment, and the feelings, and all the disappointment and heartbreak that came with it.

But I can’t do it anymore.

We’ve been housemates for seven years, we’ve been friends for half of those, and I’ve been in love with you for months.

But you don’t love me. Mattheo says you do, says you’re just stupid when it comes to feelings. But, even you couldn't miss how I feel about you.

So, I’m letting you go.

New Year, New Me, New Heart.

“No, your dorm is that way.” You giggle, Mattheo’s arm over your shoulder, pushing him in the direction of the boy’s dorms and pointing. “My dorm is this way!”

“No, you’re wrong!” He mutters, shaking his head dramatically. “Boys to the left,” He says, pointing right, “Girls to the right, because girls are always right!”

“Well, I won’t argue with you there.” You grin, spinning him around. “Wait, now I’m confused. Who’s dorm were we going to again?”

A few too many shots, a few more drinks than your limit at the beer-pong table, and as the last of the party was dying down, you and Mattheo were attempting to stumble back to your dorms. “Theo’s.”

“Right. But why are we going to Theo’s dorm?”

“Because he’s my friend,” Mattheo said. “And also, his bed is next to mine.” Another fit of laughter, drunken giggles melting away, and the two of you collapsed down against the wall, heads tipped back to the stone as amusement took over. When you finally caught your breaths once again, he was smiling, eyes sparkling in that unique Matty-way. Kicking his legs out before himself, he sighed. “Maybe I will just sleep here.”

“You can’t sleep here.”

“Why?” He pouted, and you searched through your foggy mind for a reason.

“Because you have to sleep in a bed.” Is what you settled on, shrugging your shoulders, even if you were getting a little bit too comfy against the stone too.

“Can I sleep in your bed?” He wiggled his brows, smirking, before burping, and you giggled again.

“No, you may not.”

“Why?” He whined, kicking one leg like a toddler in a tantrum. “You have fluffy pillows.”

“And you have sheets that haven’t been washed in months.” Your nose screwed up, and he let out a dramatic, wounded sound, like a soldier who had just been shot in a war movie.

“That was cold.” He muttered, shaking his head. “Not as cold as the frozen Earth Tom would bury my wee little body in if I spent the night at your dorm.”

You didn’t respond, the mention of his name was like a bucket of ice over your head. Not exactly sobering, but shocking.

“I’m saying he would murder me.”

“Yes, I understood.”

“You didn’t laugh.” He pouted, and you chuckled for his benefit. “No, it’s not real. Now I feel like I begged for it.”

“You did.”

“You suck.”

“You swallow.” You sighed, and he groaned once again, another argument lost. His head rolled to your shoulder, his body slumping into relaxation.

“So… what is the deal with you and my brother?” His lips twisted as he thought about it, but he looked up at you curiously, frown only deepening at the sad look on your face.

“There is no deal.” You shrug, “He doesn’t want me like that. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah,” He snorts, “And the sky isn’t blue.”

“I’m serious, Matty. I’ve given him a hundred chances. He could’ve made a move anytime. I haven’t exactly kept my feelings to myself, all you fools can see my heart dripping and bleeding on my sleeve. He knows, he just didn’t want to acknowledge it.” Your lungs burned for air at the end of your speech, and you took a deep breath, staring ahead at the chipping bricks in an attempt to avoid tears. “Why doesn’t he want me, Matty?”

“He does,” Mattheo mumbled, taking your hand in his and squeezing. “He’s just a fucking moron. But, he’s also scared. You know, you’re pretty much all he talks about? And, I never saw him smile so much as he did during the summer, when he’d receive your letters. He’d get all anxious and fidgety every day, waiting for the mail owl to arrive. He’s never going to make the first move. He’d rather suffer for all his life but have you like this, than risk losing you entirely.”

The words felt like a warming blanket and an ice-cold lake. Comforting and terrifying, sweet and burning, all at the same time.

Mattheo huffed a laugh, “Maybe you should write him a love letter.”

“Maybe I should…” You whisper, drunken thoughts taking over, and his head snapped up.

“I was joking.”

“I’m not. That’s a good idea. I should write him a letter, and tell him that I’m moving on.” You brushed your legs off as you stood, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet, determined.

“Okay, that’s not what a love letter is. That’s so far from what I said—”

“Let’s go!” You grabbed his wrist, tugging him along behind you as you made your way through the halls.

“Now? Why are we doing it now? We should be sleeping now!” His protests fell on deaf ears as you dragged him along. Throwing open the door to your room, Daphne was already asleep, still in her party dress, face down on her pillow, out cold from the night’s festivities and snoring.

Mattheo collapsed onto your bed, rolling onto his side and clutching a fluffy cushion to his chest as he curled into a ball.

“I’ll just wait here, then.” He yawned through his words, but you were too busy to care, scrambling for a pot of ink and some new parchment. Taking a seat at your desk, you stared at the paper, quill hovering, ready to write.

So, I will spend the end of this year away from you. You say we’ll write, but I don’t want to.

Only write to me, Tom, if you feel the same. If not, don’t. Let me heal, and when we come back in the New Year, I promise, nothing will change except for my heart.

We will still be friends, best friends, and we’ll never talk about it again.

I will wait for you.

Finishing the letter, you sighed at it, the ink drying and immortalising your words onto the page. Sitting before you was the sum total of what sat in your heart, and your mind. Laid out and ready to go, your hands trembled a little as you read it over, and over, to be sure.

But you had to do this, you had to give this letter to him, to alleviate the strain on your heart, to finally have some closure. Whether he felt the same or not, you’d have relief. Folding it carefully, you searched a strip of wax seal lighting the end and waiting for it to get hot, drips of Slytherin green filling into a pool that overlapped the edge of your paper. When there was enough, you stamped it carefully, sealing it shut as the wax cooled.

Taking a look behind you, you caught sight of a sleeping Mattheo, his jaw hanging open, drooling onto your favourite throw pillow, half tucked under your blankets from where he’s only bothered to cover his legs. Peeling away the wax seal, you walked over to him, shaking his shoulder, until he awoke with a huff and a groan, whining as he sat up.

“I was dreaming.”

“I wrote the letter.” You show him the proof, and he rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, glancing from it, to you, and back. “You have to give it to him.”

“Now?”

“No! Not now. Tomorrow. After we get off the train.” He blinked a little more, waking up from his power nap and taking the paper from you. Flipping it over in his hands, he inspected Tom’s name across the front, no address, and raised his brows.

“Why don’t you mail it?”

“That’ll take days, and I don’t want to leave it up to chance. I need you to give it to him, tomorrow. I know you’ll be swamped with everything your father expects of you both this time of year, events and frivolities and all, but you have to. I don’t want it getting lost amongst other letters and Christmas cards, and such.” Your hands clasped together before you, blinking at him pleadingly, and hoping your puppy-dog eyes were half as good as his.

He sighed, rolling his eyes and muttering to himself as he stood.

“Please, Matty.”

“Fine. I’ll give it to him.” He caved, and you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“Tomorrow? After you get off the train?”

“Yes. I will give Tom the letter… tomorrow.”

Yours,

If you want me,

(y/n) x

Tom double-checked his bags, sighing as he zipped up the piece of luggage he’d actually have access to on the train, everything he needed to survive a six-hour train journey. A knock sounded from the door, a signature one that only Mattheo ever used, excessively long and irritating, and the door swung open a second later to reveal his brother.

Placing his carry-on down on the bed beside his own, Mattheo slumped out on his freshly-stripped bed. “You took your bags to the carriage already?”

“I got up early.”

“Surprising, I thought I’d have to drag you out of your bed this morning considering how much you drank last night.” He gave his brother a look, a single brow raised, and Mattheo just huffed.

“It’s called having fun, you should try it sometime.”

Tom only rolled his eyes, gaze scanning across the bag Mattheo had abandoned, snagging on the letter sticking out of one pocket. T— was all that was visible. It might have been a card, that someone had addressed it to ‘Theo’ instead of Mattheo, but everyone called him ‘Matt’ if they wanted a nickname, to avoid confusion with Nott.

Curiosity ate at him, and nudging the bag subtly revealed just enough more to show an ‘O’.

Definitely Tom, then. Mattheo was carrying a letter for him, and had not delivered it. Before he could pluck it from the pocket, his brother was sitting up, reaching for his bag and getting to his feet, swinging the letter out of his reach inadvertently.

“Ready to go?”

“Is that letter for me?” Tom burst instead, making another move for the bag. His suspicions were only confirmed when Mattheo shifted his body, pulling the arm carrying the bag away from him, behind his body and out of Tom’s reach. “Why do you have it? When did it arrive?”

Mattheo turned casually, looking down at it, patting it and pushing it back into the bag, deeper. Tom recognised that handwriting now, though, and the urgency swelled. “Uh… last night, I think. But I was a little drunk, so…”

“Why didn’t you give it to me?” Tom pressed, biting his tongue from yelling at his brother, and Mattheo just shrugged.

“Figured I’d give it to you on the train, or something. Or when we got home. It’s just a letter.”

“Yeah…” Tom could only hum in response, his mind spinning a little. Everyone had exchanged gifts and goodbyes last night, before the party. For exactly this reason, to avoid the morning rush to the train, to avoid the hassle in the morning. “But— I saw her last night. Why wouldn't she just give it to me then? Or mail it to me?”

The questions were ceaseless, almost making Tom dizzy as he tried to think them through, and Mattheo could only shrug, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself.

“I don’t know, Tom. She just came to me, and asked me to give you that letter because she didn’t want it to get lost amongst other letters, or take too long, or something like that.” It was a small lie, really, fabricated from aspects of the truth.

“So, it’s important, then! It’s obviously important if she couldn't risk it getting lost, if it had to be hand-delivered! I should read it.” Just like that, Tom stepped right into Mattheo’s trap. Now all he had to do was pull the pin, and let the steel jaws snap shut. Yes, it could potentially backfire hugely, but Mattheo was looking on the positive side for this.

“We have to go, Tom. Everyone else has probably already left for the train.” Mattheo swung his bag again, making his point, and kicked Tom’s suitcase from where it sat beside the door towards him to pick up. “Let’s go.”

Tom sighed, grabbing his bags and taking a few steps after him, and didn’t even make it over the threshold of the door before he gave in. His bags dropped from his hands, and planted on his hips instead. “I’m going to read it.”

“Tom—”

“Give me the letter.” He held out his pal, and Mattheo tipped his head to the side, but pressed his lips together to hide a grin. “I’ll catch up, you go. I’ll read it and I’ll catch up, it’s only a letter, can’t take that long.”

He lunged for Mattheo's bag, snatching the crisply pressed paper from the pocket before his brother could stop him. As he turned away, he missed Mattheo’s victorious smile. “Alright, I’ll take your trunk down. Don’t be long, or you’ll miss the train.” And you’ll miss her, were Mattheo’s unspoken words, as he grabbed Tom’s suitcase and disappeared, leaving him alone.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Tom’s hand shook a little. The paper felt like it weighed a thousand tons. There was so much unspoken mystery behind it that Tom was sure whatever this letter said, it was not their usual correspondence. Not the chatty, friendly, borderline flirty letters they’d send each other when apart, this was more.

Sliding his thumb neatly under the wax seal he was so familiar with, Tom popped open the letter, unfolding it carefully and flipping it around to read.

His gaze scanned over the paper, lips flicking up at the use of the nickname he only allowed you to use, the swirl of your handwriting that he loved so much. The smile didn’t last long, however, and neither did the breath in his lungs as his chest seized. He read it.

Over and over again, he read the letter.

The minutes melted past as he absorbed what it said, until he could read the letter word for word without looking at it, tattooed into his mind now like a brand. With trembling fingers, he folded the letter back up carefully, lifting the paper to his lips as his eyes slid shut.

His heart was pounding, more so than he’d ever felt. Tom was not one for rash decisions and sudden jumps, everything was calculated and thought through and planned. But this, this was you. This is just what you did, forced him to let go of routine and be spontaneous, forced him to be carefree, to loosen the grip he had on the reigns, to show him he wouldn't fall apart at the slightest breeze.

He smiled against the letter, thoughts of you flicking through his mind.

And then a clock chimed, and he jumped violently within as he was rushed back to reality in a split second. The clock in the common room chimed loudly, echoing through the empty dorms and halls.

Rushing to his feet, Tom opened his bag, tucking the letter safely inside one of his books to preserve it, to tuck it inside the box of letters from you that was tucked under his bed at home. You doubted him, his feelings, unsure he’d kept that first letter, when in reality, he’d kept every single one.

Every letter, every note, even the silly little joke you scribbled on torn-off pieces of paper and threw at him in class, he kept them all.

Zipping his bag back up and grabbing it, he had no time to spare, racing to the chimes of the clock through the castle, to the front gates where the final carriage was leaving.

It felt too long. Too long as the horses plodded through the snow, too long as the wheel scrolled slowly, and his foot tapped agitatedly on the floor in a way he never allowed himself to do. His thumbnail was between his teeth, flicking between the frost-covered ground and his bag, wondering if it would actually be faster to run there himself.

Ahead, the train sounded its horn. The final warning for all students to begin boarding and settling in, because they’d be departing soon.

You watched as the trunks were beginning loaded onto the train, all to be collected when you arrived in London, only letting out a breath of relief as Mattheo rounded the corner, finally joining your group.

“Matty! About time, we were worried you’d miss the train.” Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he sighed, a little out of breath, and hugged you back once he dropped the two bags in his hands. Nobody followed him, and your brows furrowed, pulling back, “Where’s Tom?”

“He’s probably already on the train, sulking somewhere. He’s never late.” Theo snickered, and you rolled your eyes, smacking him across the shoulder for his joke.

“Blaise is inside holding a cabin for us, is Tom not sitting with us?” Enzo questioned, and you turned to Mattheo, waiting for answers.

“He’ll be here, trust me.”

“He’s late?” Draco asked, quickly followed by Enzo and Theo, all discussing it. Regulus stayed quiet, smoking and trying to hide it from being seen, but his expression was just as concerned as everyone else’s.

The chatter continued on, by your worry didn’t cease, checking up and down the platform as people bustled and crowded it. Saying their final goodbyes and giving out hugs, climbing on and off the train as they all wished one another Merry Christmas, and being unable to see either end was causing your anxiety to rocket higher.

The train horn blared again, and students began to board. “Mattheo, seriously, where is he—” Just like that, you saw him, the busy platform parting to let him through, the look on his face as terrifying as ever, and people moved out of his way as he made his way towards your group.

“Told you he’d be here,” Mattheo smirked, and you raised a brow.

“The hell did you say to him this morning, Matt?” Regulus questions.

“He looks mad,” Draco murmured.

“He looks like he’s plotting.” Enzo corrected.

Every step closer rose the tension as Tom finally looked up, his sights setting on you, and his jaw clenched. Brows drawn in, he did look like he was plotting, like a thousand thoughts were racing through his mind that he couldn't sort through.

“Hey, man. We thought you were gonna’ miss the—” Draco’s words cut off at your squeak, as Tom stepped closer, never stopping the movements of his body until he was cupping your cheeks, his mouth descending upon your own.

You were almost knocked backwards from the force of it, your hands gripping at his shoulders as he bent you over backwards, a kiss so intense your knees almost went weak.

It was desperate, you could barely keep up, kissing back as best you could through your shock, until it wore off enough to reciprocate. Wrapping one arm around his neck, your other slipped to his face, his own hands making their way down, to band around your waist and pull you in closer, until your bodies were flush.

His tongue licked into your mouth, a sigh escaping you as he did, and your heart pounded against your heart, the same way he was doing, felt through his jumper and layers. The boys were whistling, cheering and hooting, and if you weren’t so happy you’d have been embarrassed by the show they were making, and the attention they were no doubt drawing.

When he finally pulled back, you panted softly, his forehead resting on your own, blinking his eyes open to meet your gaze.

“Can I write to you regardless?” He mumbled, voice rough and tense with emotion, and your brows furrowed.

“Wh— What?”

He leaned in, not helping you clear your dazed mind at all as he kissed you again, and again, until you were smiling, fingers clenched so tight in his coat that your knuckles were white, just to stay upright.

You pecked his lips once more, chasing him as he pulled back, and the train horn sounded, a final warning, but you didn’t care. “You know how I feel now. You don’t have to wait for my reply. You can be assured that I will miss you dearly over these two weeks, and I am already counting the minutes until I see you again. But can I write to you, still?”

As the realisation set in, your face flamed, jaw dropping a little bit, and he wasted no opportunity, kissing you softly. “You read my letter.”

He only nodded, a gentle chuckle onto your mouth as your lips brushed. “You’d leave it to Mattheo to deliver? He’d probably lose it at a McDonalds, trying to get a Big Mac before my father saw him, on the way home.

Your laughter was sweet, a puffed-out sound as his hands smoothed up and down your back. “I’d love to get more letters from you, Tommy. I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you in person, but I was scared. I thought I’d made my feelings for you obvious, and you didn’t reciprocate, so I had to write that letter. To get it out, to finalise it all.”

“I like to consider myself a smart man, you know. When it comes to you, clearly, I’m a fool. You leave me speechless, and without proper thoughts, every time. All I can think about is how pretty you are, and how much I like you, despite my best efforts not to.”

The declaration was so utterly Tom, to hate being in love even if he loved it.

“For Salazar’s sake, what have you done, Matt?” Theo cussed, and you twisted your head to look at him. “Shakespeare over here is going to be writing sonnets for the rest of the year. None of us will stand a chance with any other girls when he’s showing us up, standing under windows, yelling his love to the moon.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring their nonsense. Tom did the same, nuzzling his nose against your cheek, and leaving a kiss there.

“I’ll look forward to your letters, just as I did in the summer.” You whisper, pulling away from him as the platform clears, most students already aboard now.

“And after?” Tom questions, “May I still write you letters if I, too, find myself struggling to confess my feelings in person?”

“Oh, God,” Enzo muttered. “He’s going to be writing love letters all year. He’s making the rest of us sound like cavemen. Me, you, bed, now.” He grunted, smacking a fist in his chest. You giggled as Tom rolled his eyes.

“We should get on the train.” You whisper, taking pity on the others and untangling yourself from his arms.

Tom took his bag again, and your own. With a final kiss on your cheek, he walked away to the door of the carriage, letting the rest of you follow behind. Mattheo fell into step beside you, smirking as he bumped your hips with his own.

“So, should I tell my mother and father that they have a new daughter-in-law this holiday, or wait ‘til the next.”

His teasing made you blush again, cheeks already red in the cold, warming you under all those layers. “You’re a filthy traitor. You gave him my letter early.”

“I said I’d give it to him ‘tomorrow’. Never agreed to the after the train part.” He tutted, proud of himself. “Always pay attention to the words of a contract. My dear brother taught me that. You never have to break a promise, if you’re smart with your words.”

That sounded exactly like something your man would say, your eyes rolling to the Heavens.

Mattheo leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper as the pair of you climbed the steps. “You never have to break your heart either, if you’re smart about who you give it to.”

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle/reader #tom riddle/you #tom riddle x you #hp #christian coulson #slytherin boys

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intrepidacious · 1 year

Text

almost believing

summary: You and Bucky aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. That doesn't mean you're getting out of having to pretend to be married for a mission.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 5.4k

warnings: miscommunication dialled up to eleven bc it's me; friends to lovers with lots of seething in between; set around christmas, but not a christmas fic; slight spoiler warning for wakanda forever just to be safe

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

prompt: fake dating, baby 😌 title and initial inspiration for this fic were taken from "so close" from enchanted. yes. that scene.

a/n: this was written for my wonderful tiff's sweet as sugar writing challenge!! @traitorjoelite i'm so proud of you and i hope you enjoy this fic. i really thought this one would be short i swear. big shoutout and thank you to @sweetascanbee for listening to me rant about this for weeks, i appreciate you so much!!

masterlist | read on ao3

Here’s the thing: It’s supposed to be a simple mission. Just gathering intel at the hotel for one single night, the two of you pretending that everything is fine for a couple of hours more.

After all, it’s Bucky’s last mission with you before his reassignment goes through.

Well, it’s not like it’s going to make a difference to how much you’re seeing him, to be honest.

You’re not sure when he started making himself rare or why, but once you noticed it, it was impossible not to.

"Sorry, I’m heading out," when you ask him to grab lunch together seems inconspicuous enough, as does, "Ah, I’m already supposed to meet Sam," when you try asking him about that trip to IKEA you’d been talking about for ages.

But it doesn’t stop there. One excuse follows the next, and suddenly there’s always something more important than the two of you hanging out.

Of course, you try to rationalize it at first. Swallow down your hurt feelings, because Bucky is your friend, and sometimes people just need space. You’re fine. The two of you are fine.

Once he starts scheduling dates for Friday night, though—which has always been movie night, always, every week since you met him—you know that something’s wrong.

"Is he angry with me?" you keep asking Steve, who looks very uncomfortable and definitely knows what's going on.

"Just give him a little space," he suggests timidly. So you do. You let the whole thing go.

For like a week.

"I just don’t know what I did," you tell Sam over drinks, your head held in your hands.

"Nope," he answers, downing his dregs. "I’m not doing this. Nuh-uh."

"You know, too?" you cry, accusingly pointing at him.

"I don’t know anything," Sam deadpans. And then he puts his scarf on and leaves.

"Maybe try talking to Bucky about it?" Natasha suggests, either incapable of hiding her amused smile or unwilling to try.

"I would if I ever saw him for longer than a 'hi, how are you' at the gym," you mumble. Fact is, you’re getting pissed about him giving you the silent treatment without even knowing what you did wrong.

Because before this, whatever this is, things were fine. Great, even. Free afternoons were spent on each other’s couches, introducing him to your favorite tv shows and letting him teach you that stupid card game he loves so damn much. You’d even been starting to imagine that there might be something …

Clearly, you were wrong.

Now, you can’t even look at him without your throat closing up. It’s like you woke up a few weeks ago and he’s become an entirely different person around you, much more like he was at the beginning of your friendship, distant and cold.

He didn’t even tell you that he’d signed up for a transfer.

The mission call feels like your last chance.

A whole evening of teamwork and espionage, of him basically having no other choice than talking to you and finally telling you why the fuck he would get himself reassigned without even telling you beforehand. You could’ve hugged Fury for the opportunity.

That is, until you’re handed the file containing your fake identities for the op a few hours before you’re supposed to leave.

"You’re joking," you say as soon as you open the door.

"Great, you’re here as well," Steve says dryly. "Again, a) you both gotta learn how to knock, b) the whole thing wasn’t my idea or my decision, but I also think it’s the best directive for what you’re trying to do, and c) no, there’s no one else available for the mission. Anything I missed?"

Bucky deliberately doesn’t meet your eye, his arms still crossed as he stares Steve down with a look you can’t decipher. He doesn’t even acknowledge you standing in the door, but his foot is doing the tapping thing again.

You purse your lips and join the staring.

Steve sighs, rubbing his temples with the palms of his hands. "Listen, you two work well together and I know these past few weeks have been … strained"—you almost laugh at that—"but it’s just one night."

"We need to pretend we’re married," you say. "How’re we going to pull that off if he can’t stand being in the same room as me?"

"I trust that there won’t be any issues." Steve raises an eyebrow at Bucky as he says that, but of course he doesn’t get a reply. That would necessitate talking in your presence.

"One night," Bucky repeats through gritted teeth.

Not for the first time, there seems to be some sort of silent conversation between the two of them that you’re not privy to. You roll your eyes.

"I’ll see you later."

You leave with your back straight and without a glance over your shoulder, the door slamming shut behind you.

For a moment, you’re tempted to barge into Natasha’s office next, but you have a feeling like she’d just give you another one of her looks again, which really won’t better your mood. So instead, you slam another door and flop onto your bed, blankly staring at the ceiling for a while.

Surely, there’s some twisted sort of irony in this whole situation, but you’re not laughing.

Usually, before a mission, you’d get bagels together from the bakery around the corner. You haven’t done that in a while, but you’re still quietly begging your phone to show a new unread message when you look at the time however long later.

Instead, there’s just your lockscreen picture of Bucky’s grinning face that you can’t bear to get rid off, no matter how many times it stings you. It’s almost a year old, now, back when you’d taken him to go do your holiday shopping with you, insisting that "no one’s gonna recognize you, look at that great cap you’re wearing".

It’d started snowing halfway through the afternoon, and he’d kept reaching for your hand in order not to lose you in the crowd. You both gave up halfway through your list and just went to get coffee instead, strolling through Central Park and talking about nothing and everything.

That’s when you’d realized you'd been falling in love with him, laughing and fingers freezing around your paper cup, a strange new warmth spreading throughout your body.

You need to change your lockscreen.

***

Half an hour before pick-up, you leave your room with a duffle bag slung over your shoulder and almost run into Bucky. He’s leaning against the opposite wall like he’s been waiting for you, and it stings because that’s what he always used to do, back when you were still talking. When you could still pretend that maybe, just maybe, your feelings weren’t quite so hopeless.

Now, though, his easy smile is missing. Instead, an ever-present frown is furrowing his brows again, his mouth opened just a little, but nothing comes out.

"Look, I don’t want to do this any more than you do," you sigh. "But it’s a two-person job."

He nods, his tongue poking his cheek. "I know."

"Do you think you’re gonna be alright with us pretending we’re madly in love for a whole evening?"

Bucky’s jaw tightens. "I’ll be fine."

Of course he’s going to be fine.

You grab the strap of your bag more tightly. "I wish you would just tell me what I did."

"You didn’t do anything." If he’s telling the truth, though, why does he look so numb?

For a moment, you want to shout at him, cry, beg, make him tell you when and how this went wrong, but you don’t. You just stare at him in silence, hoping he’ll get it anyway, and he refuses to notice it.

"So," Bucky finally says. "You ready to get hitched?"

There’s the ghost of a grin in his eyes, and even though it’s not enough to mask the uncomfortable tilt of his shoulders, you sigh. At least he’s trying, you suppose.

"Let’s just get fake-married so we can fake-divorce and go our separate ways," you say, walking past him.

"I’ve got something for you."

You turn around again, raising your eyebrows as he holds up a ring between the fingers of his left hand. There’s a giant stone set in its center, striking and sparkling and not subtle in the slightest. Tony really went all out for appearance’s sake. Your fingers involuntarily tighten around the strap of your bag.

Bucky drops the ring in the palm of your hand.

"Quite the present," you chuckle nervously. You don’t even want to know how much this thing costs, and you feel like they're going to chop off your head if something happens to it.

"Try it on, then."

It’s a bit too large on your finger, and it feels foreign. It’s not you at all. Then again, it’s not supposed to be you.

Before you can say anything, though, Bucky shakes his head. "What?" you say with a roll of your eyes.

"That couldn’t look more fake if you tried. Wait a sec."

He turns his back towards you and rummages through his bag for a while, his jaw still set as he holds out his hand once more. With a sigh, you pull the ring off again and return it, but before you can pull your hand back, he catches it in his own.

This one slides onto your finger perfectly, and your eyes widen at the sight of it. It’s a lot subtler, with only a small emerald for decoration, but it’s so delicate and beautiful it takes your breath away.

Bucky’s mouth opens and closes, but he swallows whatever came to his mind. "That’s better," he says instead, and his voice sounds oddly rough.

"They gave you a backup?" you say, angling your hand this way and that to see how the gem catches the light.

"Mhm."

Something is off about this whole situation, but then you feel like you don’t really know Bucky anymore. Not like you used to, anyway. It used to be so easy to get a read on him.

You stand there in silence for a moment, and it’s only then that both of you realize he’s still holding your hand. He drops it immediately, and you pretend it doesn’t sting.

"How come you don’t get a ring?" you ask.

"Says who?" Bucky says, clearing his throat and activating the camouflage sleeve Tony had installed for his arm. Sure enough, there’s a ring on his hand as well.

You grab his hand curiously. When you touch it, there’s no difference between his fingers and the pseudo-platinum band, all of it just cool vibranium in disguise.

"It’s fake," you say. "It’s not the same."

"No," he agrees and pulls his hand away. "Looks real enough, though."

You notice the red splotches on his neck and wonder what it is that you’ve said this time, but it’s pointless anyway. He’s not going to tell you even if you asked.

Maybe you should be used to him icing you out by now, but it still hurts.

***

"Yes, Steve, I know," you sigh. "We’re just gathering intel, nothing else."

"I just wanted to have you say it again so we’re all clear. You both love taking risks when it’s not necessary."

"Alright, punk, we got it," Bucky says, tugging at his tie again.

You can’t even blame him for the nervous habit; you’ve been twisting your fake wedding ring around your finger for the entire drive.

This isn’t the first time the two of you had to go undercover as a couple; hell, it’s not even the first time you’ve pretended to be married. Usually, though, you could have a laugh about the whole thing together.

Now you barely know how to act around Bucky as yourself, let alone as some made up woman.

"I think we’re going to attract a lot of attention if we don’t get out soon," you say, readjusting the collar of your blouse underneath your coat.

You notice Steve staring at your hand for a moment, a frown between his brows, but his lips curve upwards a split second later. "Ready to do this?" he asks and you smile a little in confirmation.

Bucky takes another breath and then he nods curtly. "Let’s go."

The change that goes through him as soon as the two of you climb out of the car is so stark you almost turn on your heels again and beg Steve to let you off the hook, after all. His hand sneaks around your waist and pulls you closely into his side as you walk towards the hotel, all soft smiles and charm.

"Sorry for the holdup," he tells the bellman waiting next to your bags with a wink. "The missus and I just needed another minute."

You lightly slap Bucky’s chest in fake indignation. It’s quick thinking on his part, really.

When you’re checking in under your assumed names for the evening, he keeps his arm around you, and the content look stays in his eyes. A subtle glance at your surroundings tells you some of your persons of interest have already arrived early for the event tonight, looking around the sparkling lobby with the same feigned boredom.

Bucky nudges your cheek with his nose and then smiles again when you look at him. It makes your brain shut off for a moment.

When he looks at you like this, it’s so easy to forget the past couple of months and just pretend for a moment. What if there was no mission at all, and it could simply be the two of you?

But of course, that’s not possible. All of it is fake, including the way he looks at you. You know that.

So how come it doesn’t feel fake to you at all?

***

You hate this dress, you hate these people, you hate this dinner, and most of all, you hate how much you enjoy spending this much time so physically close to Bucky.

It feels so natural when he links your hand with yours, so fucking meant to be, even though he’s just putting on a show for the band of creeps you’re tasked to keep an eye on.

But damn if he’s not good at it.

It’s amazing, really, how his eyes immediately soften when you turn your head towards him, like you’re the only person in the whole room. He looks at you during this charade like you wish he’d look at you daily, even far from prying eyes around you; especially then. It makes your breath shorten, your heart pounding erratically because it thinks it’s getting everything it’s ever hoped for.

Hearts are often stupid like that.

A full night of glances and touches and the pretence of secret whispers will do all kinds of twisted things to your feelings.

There’s a lull in the conversation, and when Bucky squeezes your hand you realize he’s no longer the only one who’s looking at you.

You chuckle nervously. "I’m sorry, I got … distracted for a moment. What were you saying?"

"Ah, newlyweds," one of the investor goons laughs. He’s a particularly vile looking man whose suit is way too big on his spindly limbs.

Bucky, academy award winning actor in another lifetime, chuckles politely while the fondness in his eyes seems to increase tenfold. "We’ve been married three years, actually," he says, sticking to your official cover story.

It’d been Tony’s idea to keep your fake timeline as close to the truth as possible to avoid any slip-ups. It’s a great move on paper, really, but in reality it just adds another nail to the coffin.

Three years ago, you were on a mission in Brussels, only the second one ever where it was just the two of you. It was mostly surveillance, so one of you usually had downtime while the other kept lookout. It became customary that you’d entertain each other during those long hours, getting to know each other intimately for the first time, taking the first tentative steps towards the friendship you now share.

That mission was the groundwork of your falling in love with him in the first place.

"You seem to be doing something right if you’re both still so enamoured with each other," Spindly Arms says.

"I’m the luckiest guy in the world," Bucky responds, still looking into your eyes. "It’s hard not to do the right thing, then."

He presses a kiss to your cheek and you smile timidly. His lips linger for just a moment, and then he moves to whisper into your ear, something you’re sure looks like sweet nothings to everybody else but is actually a, "Don’t fall asleep on me."

You tilt your head, shove him teasingly as if he’d said something inappropriate, and because he’s always been quick to catch on he winks, obvious enough so that the other people that are part of this conversation can clearly see it.

It’s not long after this that you excuse yourselves, walking around the room with apparent aimlessness. Everything is sparkling with pure gold decorations and countless little twinkling lights that have been scattered around the room like millions of fireflies. You spot an actual orchestra right underneath the massive Christmas tree.

"Kind of tacky, don’t you think?" Bucky murmurs with a sideway glance at you.

"Maybe a little," you say.

The truth is, though, the room looks oversaturated and expensive and magnificent. Something straight out of a Hallmark movie, more like a movie set than a real place.

It’s the one thing that keeps this whole thing from being completely unbearable.

He must have seen the truth in your eyes, because he ducks his head and says quietly, "I’m gonna go check out the terrace."

You just nod and smile as he kisses your cheek again and then vanishes through the crowd with a few long strides. Sighing, you take another drink from the tray a waiter offers you, absent-mindedly rubbing your cheek.

"What a lovely surprise," a voice says next to you and you freeze for a moment before forcing yourself to calmly take a sip. "Miss … Winter, was it?"

"Mrs," you say with a pleasant smile. "Good evening, Director."

"Right, of course." Director de Fontaine eyes her martini warily. "I don’t suppose these olives are fresh, do you?"

Your mind is racing. If she’s here on official business, then your entire operation might be compromised.

"So," she continues, looking rather bored. "Met any interesting people yet, Mrs Winter?"

"Oh, yes," you say lightly, clinging to your role of unassuming young wife. "It’s all rather exciting."

"I’m sure. These kinds of events are all very … shiny." She looks into your eyes and there’s an almost explicit warning written in hers. "It’s surprisingly easy to get blinded."

You swallow heavily even as she smiles. "If you’ll excuse me, I think I see someone …"

You quickly walk over to the buffet table where some of the wives have formed a semi circle of gossip, trying your best to hide your sigh of relief when the director doesn’t follow you.

For a few minutes, you lose yourself in pointless gossip, until one of the women takes hold of your forearm.

"You must tell us, what’s your secret?"

"Excuse me?" you chuckle nervously.

"Your husband!" she exclaims, earning a few nods from some of the others. "He clearly adores you," she goes on. "I don’t think he’s looked away from you once since you joined us."

You steal a look around your shoulder. She’s right. Bucky’s gaze immediately locks with yours, an almost bashful grin on his lips. You caught me, his eyes seem to say, and you feel a rush of heat go through you.

He should be nominated for an Oscar with this performance.

Quickly, you turn around again to meet several expectant pairs of eyes.

"I don’t know what to tell you," you say. "He’s just … always been like this. I mean, he’s my best friend. I really don’t know what I would do without him."

There’s not a word of a lie in what you’re saying, and it elicits a round of coos and murmurs even as your heart gives a sharp pang.

"Dance with me?"

You flinch, turning to look at Bucky’s outstretched hand, at the sad, hopeful look in his eyes, and the line between reality and fiction blurs a bit more.

You take his hand, and he pulls you onto the dance floor, some cheery Christmas song ramping up to its big finale. Then, the band switches to a slower song. To you, it sounds mournful.

"That was nice," Bucky mutters into your ear. "What you said."

"I meant it, you know," you whisper, but he turns, and you don’t think he’s heard you.

Bucky places his hand on your hip and you hide a shudder. His gloved fingers wrap around yours, and then you start moving again.

You barely know the steps, but he’s a great leader, and he doesn’t say anything when you step on his toes. In fact, his gaze softens even more when he looks at you after the third time, the hand around your waist pulling you a little closer.

"How are you doing this?" you say without stopping to smile.

"Easy," Bucky says, and the way he says it almost makes you believe it’s true.

You bite your lip, trying to stop yourself from breathing him in. "I didn’t mean the dancing."

With the last note of the song, you stumble over his foot again and he snorts. "Me neither."

The melody changes and neither of you lets go. His steps are getting slower, smaller, like he’s just trying to keep both of you in motion. Your head is spinning. The twinkling lights are starting to blur into a great mass of stars in the background, like you’re at the center of a music box and everything else is just background noise.

You wrap both hands around his neck as you’re swaying, then, your foreheads only inches apart. You could stay in this moment forever, you think, as it stretches into blissful infinity. Somewhere, a clock strikes ten.

Bucky leans in a little closer and your breath hitches again.

"It’s time," he whispers, and your eyes fly open.

You’d almost forgotten about the mission.

"Val is here," you say quietly.

His expression hardens for just a second. "What?"

"She came to talk to me earlier. She knows we’re here."

"Why didn’t you say something?"

"I … There wasn’t time."

"We’re just gonna have to be quick and discrete."

You open your mouth, but then you see the distance close in again between you two, and so you just nod.

The plan is almost laughably simple, but it’s probably going to work out just as you’ve laid out beforehand. Everyone in the room has watched the two of you staring at each other for the past couple of hours, so no one bats an eye when Bucky nudges you gently and you make your way up the stairs to the fancy elevator that’s going to take you up to a bedroom.

Or, more specifically, to a bedroom that’s being used to store all kinds of evidence, but no one else needs to know that little detail.

You notice the director talking to Spindly Arms and a couple of other people, but you force your gaze not to linger on her. Instead, you grab Bucky’s hand more tightly.

He lets go of you as soon as the elevator doors close behind the two of you, dragging a hand through his hair and messing it up. There aren’t any cameras in the elevator, but you’re both pretty sure there will be on the floor you’re going. "CIA exposure, that’s exactly what we needed."

"There was nothing I could’ve done," you say, tugging your sleeves down your shoulders.

"I’m not blaming you, sweetheart," Bucky says distractedly, loosening his tie. Your heart makes a very heavy thud. "But if Walker shows up tonight as well, I’m gonna shoot first and ask questions later."

"No, you won’t," you say with a grin, mostly because you know he didn’t bring his gun because the male attendees were all frisked at the entrance.

"Maybe I’ll throw a knife. I could say it was an accident."

The conversation lasts barely a moment, but it reminds you so much of what the two of you used to be, it hurts.

You follow him stumbling out of the elevator onto the right floor with a breathless laugh. There’s no one in sight as you subtly check the room numbers before making him follow you with a coquettish smile for the security camera.

You find the right door without much trubble, pulling the keycard out of your inconvenient little handbag. "Come on now," you murmur as the lock rejects it at the first try.

Suddenly, Bucky’s hand is on your waist again, and you gasp as he spins around. The keycard drops to the floor.

He presses you against the wall, effectively trapping you in his embrace. Your hands are laid flat against his chest, his heart thundering madly underneath your fingertips. Bucky’s eyes flit around madly, like he’s trying to come up with something on the spot and, for the first time since you’ve known him, is left without ideas.

You gasp as his nose brushes against yours.

"Sorry," he whispers hoarsely. And then he kisses you.

Your body responds immediately, lighting a fire in your core as his lips press against yours, hungry, gentle, almost apologetic. You can taste the champagne on his tongue.

You arch your back against him on instinct as his hands travel down your arms, brushing your hips, your tighs, slowly parting your dress at the slit. Your eyes fly open the moment you realize what he’s doing, even though he swallows your gasp.

In one smooth motion, he pulls the I.C.E.R. out of the garter on your thigh and fires a single, silenced shot. The guy with the earpiece barely has the time to grunt before he sacks against the opposite wall, unconscious, his hand still in the pocket of his jacket.

"Fuck," you hiss, pushing Bucky away from you. He stumbles slightly, the gun loose in his fingers. His eyes are almost black as he blinks at you. "You could have told me we’re being shadowed."

Bucky’s mouth is stained from your lipstick, and the sight of that alone makes your head swim. You can still feel the ghost of his hand on your leg.

"It’d have blown our cover," he replies, infuriatingly calm. "Hate me later, our window has just narrowed by a bit."

You swallow, blinking to try and gain control over your breath again, grabbing your gun back with a short nod. "Let’s finish this, then."

***

Back at the Compound, you both give an exhausted report about the events of the night, leaving out nothing but your improvised kiss on floor fifteen.

Your lips are still tingling with it.

Finally, you and Bucky are left alone in the briefing room, and for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t just get up and leave as soon as the silence takes hold. Instead, you both sit next to each other, staring straight ahead.

"I guess we should talk," he says slowly, reluctantly, and you can’t help it.

Your defenses shoot up again.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," you say, squinting.

"Yes, you do." He’s lost the tie hours ago, but he keeps tugging at the fabric in his hands as if it could give him the words he’s looking for. "I shouldn’t have kissed you, not with … Not like that."

"Like you said, the guy would’ve blown our cover," you say, crossing your arms.

"Doesn’t make it right."

"What do you want me to say, Buck?" you say sharply. "That you should’ve talked to me before? Well, I’m kind of used to you not doing that anymore, so just forget it."

"Y/N—"

"No, really, it’s fine. Like I said, you’re leaving, anyway, so what does it matter. Didn’t tell me you were planning to do that, either. You just did it."

"You know why I’m leaving."

"No, I fucking don’t!" There are tears in your eyes now. "I have been trying really hard, Bucky, but you’ve just shut me out. I thought you needed space, which is fine, by the way, but you just—one day you decided you were done with me and that was it."

He stares at you incredulously. "You seriously don’t remember."

"Don’t remember what?!"

"That you were talking about me. To Natasha."

The memory rushes through you so violently it’s almost ridiculous you hadn’t thought about it in months.

You’d just come back from another undercover op, and you’d called her right as the door to your room had closed behind you because not for the first time, your feelings had threatened to spill over again.

"You should talk to him. Be honest."

"No, Nat, come on, I can’t—I can’t do that to him. I can’t risk … you know, he’s my best friend. And that’s all it can ever be. I don’t want to ruin what we have. I just wish he’d make it easier."

"You’re making excuses, you know. Both of you deserve a bit of happiness, don’t you think?"

"I tried," Bucky says now, barely looking at you. "I tried making it easier. But you’re so …"

"So what?" you ask hollowly, ignoring the fact that you can feel the tears starting to trickle down your cheeks now. "So pathetic? That’s what this is about, isn’t it? That’s why you asked for the transfer, so you can be rid of me."

"Rid of you?" Bucky starts, but you ignore him.

"You know what, Bucky, fuck you if you think my feelings for you are so much of an inconvenience that you need to leave the state. Silly me for thinking we could be adults about this."

"You’re the one who wouldn’t just tell me."

"Well, now you know anyway and I’m sure once you’re off to Cairo or wherever the fuck they’re going to send you, you can have a big old laugh about the stupid girl who fell in love with you despite the fact that—"

"Love?"

"I mean, obviously?!"

"You … you’re in love … with me?" There’s something very soft and vulnerable in Bucky’s eyes.

"Are we talking about two different phone calls?"

"I thought you hated me."

You huff incredulously. "Why would I hate you?"

"That’s why I gave you space, I thought … but then …" He grabs your hands. "Sweetheart, I’ve been in love with you for years."

It punches the air out of your lungs. "What?"

Bucky’s eyes are devastating as he looks at you, then. "I’m so sorry, I—I got it all wrong, I was just—I thought you know and you didn’t see me like that and that’s why I …"

"You …?" you say, still not quite comprehending what’s going on.

His thumb caresses your knuckles, halting when it makes contact with the ring you’re still wearing. "I'm in love with you," he says quietly.

"I don’t understand," you whisper.

"Please tell me I didn’t fuck this up completely."

This time, you’re the one to lean in.

Where your first kiss in the hallway had been feverish, this one is soft, almost unbelievably sweet, both of you still breathless with the fact that you’re allowed to do this. Finally, it feels like all the pieces are falling into place and you’re home again.

You press closer into him and Bucky smiles against your lips, pulling you in with his hands on your hips just like he did when you were dancing earlier.

The loudspeakers overhead crackle. "Alright, kids, we’re gonna break this up until you’re back in your own quarters, I don’t want to expose FRIDAY to the creation of your sex tape."

You break up with a snort.

"Fuck you, Tony," Bucky shouts, but he’s still smiling as wide as you’ve ever seen him do.

You giggle as you nudge your nose against his, curling your fingers into his hair. "That reminds me, you know."

"Of what?"

"Quick and discrete," you mumble, repeating his words from the hotel. "Title of your sex tape."

Bucky groans and shuts you up again.

(A few years later, you get the ring back.)

happy holidays, y'all 💛 thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!

#sweet as sugar challenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #almost believing

5K notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 4 months

Text

you be my revolver, i got you in my hands

character: choso kamo x fem!reader

genre: curseless!au, smut

notes: eeee first choso piece ever!!! i had such a blast writing this and i wish i could’ve gotten it finished in time for christmas but alas! anyway, please enjoy this and as always please heed the warnings below and stay safe! | title credit: girl like me by dove cameron

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (reader + choso are family friends), age gap, bratty reader, rough sex, minimal prep, teasing, hints of manipulation, hints of dubcon, size kink, pet names

words: 6k

synopsis:

“Maybe you should stop calling me that.” “What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…” “Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—” “Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.”

Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you.

You’ve known each other for a long time—so long Choso’s lost count of the years, now, having met you when Yuuji was just a toddler (and you were, too) at the bus stop on Yuuji’s first day of Pre-K, only to discover you lived a mere few houses from each other—but you haven’t seen each other in a long time, too.

It’s not through fault of either of you; life had gotten in the way, as it has a tendency to do so, had grown busy with intricacies and obligations that demanded time and attention, tangling around you and keeping you apart.

You had both embarked on university endeavours; him pursuing his PhD, you continuing your undergrad, had both stuffed more and more into your lives—art shows and book readings and music festivals and tropical trips—and lost space for each other in the process.

Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you, but it feels as though no time has passed at all, as it normally does with family—you’re still just as bratty as you’ve always been (some things never change, he guesses; some things you’ll never grow out of, he supposes).

Family.

Family is not a word he uses lightly, but you and yours had quickly become his and theirs, had quickly become ours, morphing from neighbours to friends to practically kin, members mixing to form something special, a hybrid of some sort, stuck somewhere between long-standing family friends and blood relatives.

Which is why how you’re acting—how you’ve been acting, this entire winter break—is so undeniably inappropriate.

And although he’s lost track of the years, everything beginning to blur together, to melt and flow and shift and breathe, he still remembers the day he told you to call him onii-chan.

That he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget.

Yuuji’s so lucky, you had pouted, kicking at the sandy ground with the toe of your shoe and swaying a little on the swing. He has a big brother. I don’t. I’ve always wished I had one. Sighing, you looked away, fingers tangling in the chain. But I’ll never get one; it’s impossible.

It’s not impossible, Choso had responded gently, nudging his swing against your own. I’ll be your big brother, if you want.

And you—well, you had been so incredibly happy, all bright smiles and sunshine eyes and breathless giggles, to have a big brother to call your own.

Never in his life did he think he’d come to regret such a decision.

But you seem to be on a mission to make him, this Christmas.

Because you’re really testing his fucking patience, this Christmas.

The term of endearment oozes from your lips as if it’s melted in the wet heat of your mouth every single time, always paired with your worst behaviour: bending over in those short, sweet, slutty skirts and flashing cute Christmas panties at him; placing a hand much too high to be appropriate on his thigh as you watch a film together, leaning close to his ear to murmur out a silky question you already know the answer to; twining your ankles with his beneath the dinner table and gazing at him with eyes full of sin, leaning so far forward on the table that your tits swell, nearly spilling from the too-low neckline of your dress, then giggling when you catch him ogling.

As a result, he’s been meticulous about avoiding being alone in a room with you—he doesn’t trust himself, doesn’t trust what he might do, especially if you start playing your little games—but he should’ve known it would only be a matter of time until you get want you want.

Because it always is.

And on Christmas Eve, you finally succeed.

Somehow, you’ve managed to get him alone in his childhood bedroom—something about wanting to flip through his old sketchbooks, to search for some doodles he had drawn for you many years ago, to rip the pages from the spiral-bound spine and stuff them in your back pocket, for safekeeping, you had claimed.

Tugging at his heartstrings, that’s how you succeeded.

Sitting on the edge of his small twin bed, thighs slotted up against one another and both of your arms looped around one of his, he flips through the curling pages of his drawings, smudged with graphite and pastels.

“Oh, I remember this one!”

A dainty finger points to a cute kitten sketched out in astonishing detail, with a pink nose and a satin ribbon tied in a bow around its neck.

“It’s you,” he smirks. “You asked me what animal you’d be, and then demanded I draw you as a kitten when I responded with a cat.”

“You drew a lot of me,” you lean forward, swelling breasts pressed flush to his bicep, a palm sitting high on his thigh as avid eyes scan over the spread, gaze stuttering as it sweeps from doodle to doodle.

“I drew a lot for you,” he says, the observation entirely unthinking. “You wanted a specific page, but I might as well give you this whole sketchbook. More than half the pieces in here are for you.”

It’s a fact that shocks him in its authenticity, a realization that sends a painful, sick thrill searing through his body, saliva beginning to collect in the dips beneath his tongue.

“I’m such a lucky girl,” you hum out in a sigh, nuzzling your cheek into his arm and looking up at him with shimmering eyes. “I have such a good big brother.”

“You’re spoiled,” he says, but his voice holds no malice, eyes softening as he stares down at you, a small smile on his lips.

“I dunno about that,” you frown, but mischief glints in your eye. “You haven’t really given me what I’ve wanted all holiday…”

Blood turns to shards of ice in his veins, whole body going rigid as his breath stalls in his throat, pounding heartbeat reverberating in his ears.

“Wh-What’s that?”

He doesn’t want to ask it, doesn’t mean to ask it, but the question claws at his tongue, pries past his teeth and tumbles from his lips in a ragged, tangled heap.

And the smile that spreads across your face is nothing short of sinister, that glint flaring to a sharp shine as your pupils breathe, pulse, swallow him whole.

“A Christmas kiss,” you say, stare unblinking and intense as your hand slips between his legs, rubbing little circles into his inner thigh, a mere centimetre or two away from his cock.

The motion makes him jolt, hips involuntarily twitching toward your touch, brushing his half-hard cock against your knuckles.

“That’s all I want,” you sigh almost dreamily, tits pressed harder into his bicep as you lean closer, so tight they’re practically being squeezed from your sweetheart neckline. “A kiss from my onii-chan. Though…”

Trailing off, your hand slides up a little further, pinky and ring finger tiptoeing along the rapidly hardening lump in his jeans, squealing out a short giggle as it jumps beneath your touch.

“I’m not sure that’s all onii-chan wants.”

“Onii-chan doesn’t want anything from you,” he breathes out, but his voice is rough, unconvincing, his hands curled into firm fists on his bedspread, trembling slightly, skin stretched taut across pointed knuckles.

“Another lie,” your lips tug down, voice saturated with disappointment. “You know, good big brothers don’t lie to their siblings,” you fix him with a look, glaring through feathery lashes, expression teetering dangerously on the edges of a pout.

A shiver skitters through his bones, whole body stiffening. His jaw flexes as he grinds his molars, a slow, controlled breath exhaled out his nose, his eyes flicking down. You’re still touching him, two fingertips rubbing gentle circles into his clothed cock.

“Maybe you should stop calling me that.”

“What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…”

“Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.”

“That—That—” he swallows hard, dense saliva pooling at the back of his tongue. “That doesn’t matter—We shouldn’t—”

“But—” your lip juts out further, forehead crinkling. “But I want to.”

You can’t always get what you want.

That’s what he wants to tell you. That’s what he wishes he could tell you. But it just isn’t fucking true, when it comes to you.

“Stop,” he says instead, and although it’s supposed to be an order, it comes out as a plead, his voice hoarse, strained, thin, the proclamation high and false and tinny.

“You’re a terrible liar,” the tip of your index finger traces the head, looking up at him through your lashes. “Did you know that?”

He does, he does know that. He’s a terrible liar, eyes too honest, voice too sincere, expressions too candid, always giving away his true intentions and forthright thoughts.

He’s a terrible discipliner, too, incapable of saying no, of refusing his siblings anything. You know this, too.

“St—” he tries to force the word from his tongue again, protest sticking in his throat. Stop, stop, he wants you to stop, he needs you to stop, please.

But that’s a lie, too, the rejection refusing to take shape, to mold into something audible, something tangible, something worthwhile.

No matter how much he wishes it were true, he can’t will it to become true—not when he wants this just as badly as you do, his straining cock exposing his real desires to you.

You’ve already taken full notice of it, yearning for you through rough denim, hot and hard and throbbing. The pad of your finger rubs over the slit in rhythmic motions, smooth and gliding, aided by the copious amount of pre-cum oozing through the material, and it jerks beneath your touch, eager for more attention.

“It’s so hard, onii-chan,” your hand cups the impressive bulge, rolling it in your palm, a girlish giggle tickling your tongue. “It—It’s throbbing, onii-chan.”

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that?” he breathes, attempting to keep his tone stern and his eyes stony.

“It’s making me want to ride it,” you whimper loudly, squeezing your thighs together, completely ignoring his question. “Oh, please, onii-chan, can I ride your cock?”

“Fu-fuck,” the curse breaks on his tongue, eyes shut tightly, breaking away from your invasive stare. “Fuck, fuck, f-fuck.”

No.

“I’d really like to ride it, onii-chan.”

No.

“Can I? Pretty please?”

No-no-no-no-no!

He wants to say no. He should say no. It’s the right thing to do.

He’s the older brother, the eldest brother, it’s his duty to say no, to mentor, to lead by example.

But he can’t.

He can’t form the word in his throat, can’t mold it into a sound and push it from his mouth.

He’s never truly been able to, when it comes to you—and he was so fucking stupid to think he would.

Because, as always, you are making it exceptionally difficult to deny, gazing up at him with shimmering eyes like that, mouth licked raw in anticipation, bottom lip bitten puffy from the front teeth constantly sinking into it.

“I—It isn’t right—” he attempts, swallowing thickly, cords in his neck straining, desperately attempting to quell the tremor in his voice.

He knows you don’t care. If he’s being entirely honest with himself, he doesn’t, either, his morality eroded to nothing more than a farce, a thin façade, not nearly strong enough to force him into doing the right thing, not nearly strong enough to fortify his rapidly waning self-discipline.

“I—I won’t tell,” you whimper, and he can see the fine film of tears lacquering your eyes, shielding lust-blown pupils. “Pinky promise! I just—I just want you so badly,” your nose twitches cutely with a sniffle, your bottom lip beginning to waver with infinitesimal quivers, soft palm caressing his cock like you love it. “Please, onii-chan?”

And Christ, you’re so pretty, so pouty, with your glistening puppy-dog eyes and pleads dripping from your lips like thick syrup.

How could he possibly say no to something so precious? How could anyone?

“Alright,” he whispers, defeated, eyes squeezing shut as he nods. “If it’ll make you happy.”

“Really?”

And just like that, the tears are incinerated from your eyes, gaze bright and blazing with excitement, lips molded into a brilliant smile.

You look so sickeningly beautiful when you get what you want.

“Yes,” he nearly whimpers, and it’s pathetic, his hips twitching up into your touch, craving, desperate. “Yes, yes, ride my cock.”

The affirmative is all you need, squealing a little with happiness as you climb into his lap, fingers up your own skirt to push your soaked panties to the side, other hand pawing clumsily at his waistband.

“Thank you,” you breathe, the words soaking into his neck, sealed with a sloppy kiss. “Oh, thank you, onii-chan.”

He can’t help but chuckle a little as his hands find your waist, instinctive, steadying you.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you.”

“This is all I want,” you tell him, pulling back a little to search his face. “S’all I’ve wanted for a long time.”

He wants to ask you to elaborate on that, confusion warping his brow, but then you’re yanking at his belt loops and pulling at his zipper and wrapping a soft palm around the base of his cock, a heavy groan vibrating in his throat.

“Wait, wait!” he chokes on a gasp as you hover over his cock, head bumping against your hole. “Let me—”

“I don’t wanna wait,” you whine out, petulant and stringy, whole face scrunched in frustration. “I’ve been waiting! I want your cock in me now!”

Fuck, you’re such a fucking brat, he’s growling as he forces you down on his cock in one swift motion, the sudden intrusion pushing a yelp from your lips. Your forehead knocks against his, sugar-stained breath wafting across his face, his tongue darting out to mop up remnants from his mouth.

It’s really cute, the way your little cunt spasms around his shaft as he bottoms out, pressed snug and tight against your cervix, desperate in its attempt to adjust to his girth. It’s really sweet, the way your body splits itself open for him, cracking at the core and struggling to swallow him down.

“Oh, it’s so big, onii-chan!”

“God,” he nearly sobs. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know that?”

Giggling, you wind your arms around his neck tighter, nuzzling your cheek into his skin, then stringing a garland of wet kisses along the line of his jaw.

“S’really thick, Choso-nii,” you tell him honestly, nodding in lethargic little motions. “I feel so full, onii-chan.”

A laugh falls from his lips, breathy and exalted.

“I don’t know if it’s that I’m big, or if it’s just that your cunt is so fucking small,” his voice tapers off into a whine, raspy and gruff.

“H-Hurts a little, onii-chan,” you admit in a whimper, hips shifting in experimental little movements, conjuring a groan from deep within his chest.

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that, huh?” he asks for the second time in fifteen minutes. “Who was too impatient to let onii-chan prep her?”

“Don’t care,” you mumble. “Wanted you s’bad.”

He laughs again, warm and gentle and full of love, his hands squeezing your hips just enough to make you gasp, fingertips pressing his name into your flesh in blotchy little ovals of purple.

“You have me,” he says, his words ringing clear and true with a painful sincerity.

The vibrations of your responding hum seep from your chest into his, and he sighs, body deflating against yours, pleasant little tingles snuggling between his ribs.

You stay like that for a moment to two, wound up in one another, chests pressed flush, breathing as one. Your auras ebb and flow, presences bleeding, tangling together and creating something that is neither one nor the other but both, a single shared entity.

And it’s nice, it’s real, it’s natural.

But then you become impatient, as you normally do, as he knew you would, wiggling a little in his lap, fingers twining in the strands at the base of his neck.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he urges gently. “Ride onii-chan’s cock.”

And so you do, hips beginning to roll in slow, languid circles, fingers still laced at the back of his skull, half-buried in messy ink.

He allows you to set the pace, allows you to take your time, allows you to enjoy and savour every rock and grind and bounce, staring at you through heavily lidded eyes, hands on your waist merely guiding you—keeping you stable, just like a big brother should.

He’s absolutely breathtaking; gaze glittering in the dim light overflowing with awe, spit-slicked lips licked raw and shimmering as his tongue glides over them again, swollen and bitten cherry red.

You can’t help but reach out to trace his features; the strong line of his brow, the delicate curve of his cheek, the enticing bow of his lips, hips slowing to uneven little ruts as you hone your focus, his eyes observing you with a sick sort of fascination.

“Did you—Have you—Have you thought about this before?”

The question stings his tongue, revulsion flushing through his blood as guilt pricks his flesh, his cock throbbing eagerly.

“Course I have,” you breathe out with a little laugh, as if he’s so silly for thinking you might not have. “Actually, I—I—”

A sudden shyness overtakes you, an unsure giggle on your lips fading into a soft squeal as you hide in his shoulder, shaking your head a little.

“What? Huh?” he shrugs, nudging your face up gently, curiosity clawing at his irises as they search your face, voracious. “What?”

“Well, sometimes I…”

The words tangle in your throat and you choke on them, gaze fleeing his own, and you shake your head again, chest beginning to stammer.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, rubbing reassuring circles into your flesh. “You can tell onii-chan, go on.”

There are tears in your eyes now, mouth wobbling a little with the verging confession, and God, that’s so hot, why is that so fucking hot?

“Where’s my brave little sister gone now? Hmm?”

“M’right here, onii-chan,” you whisper, face teetering on a wince, as if you’re bracing for a blow, terrified to admit to him, fearing reprimand. “It’s just that—Sometimes I do, um, really bad things with my stuffies while—while thinking about you…”

Dewdrops of shame glitter in your lashes as your lids flutter, nose scrunching with a soft sniffle, tears breaking free of their wispy confines to roll down your cheeks in fat, glimmering streams—so fucking beautiful in the dim light of his bedroom—but you don’t dare break his stare, gazing at him through a thick shield of water.

“Oh, Christ,” he coughs on the curse, hands flexing on your waist, blunt nails digging into your skin. “And what—what do you think about?”

“Um,” your gaze flits from his own, to his wrinkled bedspread, then back to his face, wide and honest. “Riding you, like this. And—And riding your thighs, makin’ a real mess all over them, and your thick fingers too, filling me up…”

Bolts of dizziness sear his brain as his lungs deflate, oxygen eaten up by pure lust and leaving his chest buzzing, burning, some sort of response mangling itself in his throat, escaping his lips as nothing more than a cracked moan.

“Do you think about me, onii-chan?”

Your question pulls him from the depths of his hedonism and he blinks, your face swimming into view, a peculiar mix of hope and cognizance infusing your expression, eyebrows raised with false curiosity, a smirk twitching on your lips.

Ah, there she is, that brat he knows so well, that brat he’s come to crave, every ounce of uncertainty eradicated from your face, replaced with assured confidence, contradicting the tears still staining your cheeks.

You fucking know he does.

And, oh, how he wishes he was stronger, how he wishes he could lie, how he wishes he could devour the smugness in your eyes and complacency in your smile, to humble you, to knock you from your high throne.

He settles for a kiss instead, mouth crushed to yours as a large hand cups your head, thumb pressing into your ear, fingertips dragging across your scalp as he yanks you closer.

It hurts, his front teeth scraping against your lip as he practically gnaws his way to your tongue, his own big and thick and so fucking strong as it overwhelms yours, shoving it further into the cavern of your mouth and forcing it to stay put as he explores.

He’s making a real mess as he slathers over your molars, over the inside of your cheeks and the backs of your teeth, drenching your mouth in him. Drool oozes steadily from the corners, collecting along the underside of his bottom lip and leaving his chin sticky and slick.

“Yes,” he whispers, eyes shut so tightly his whole forehead crinkles, mouth wet and sliding against your own. “Yes, yes, I think about you—much too often.”

Nose nudging yours, he nuzzles into your face a little, planting a chaste kiss to your lips, then peppering a few more, quick and sloppy, around your mouth.

“But right now, I don’t want to think about anything. I just want to feel you creaming all over my cock—you think you can do that for me, princess?” His palms cushion your cheeks, thumbs swiping across your cheekbones, then brushing strands of damp hair from your temples. “You think you can do that for your onii-chan?”

Yes you can, of course you can, you’re nodding, blinking the last remnants of tears from your eyes, rapid movement eliminating the final stubborn drops, clinging delicately to your outer lashes.

“S’it, baby,” he encourages as your hips start moving again, working up a steady rhythm. “Just like that, good girl.”

A mewl slips from your lips, burrowing your scalding face in his sticky neck again, his undivided attention almost too much to bear.

“Like it when you call me a good girl,” you murmur, lips dragging across his skin with the confession, streaking him with thick glimmers of spit.

“Is that so?” he laughs a little, pressing a few kisses to the crown of your head. “That’s because you don’t hear it often.”

Lifting your head, you scowl at him, though there’s no heat to your glare, fury dimmed by fondness, unable to smother the smile playing with your lips.

A dazzling smile spreads across his own face in response, and he laughs again, his eyes so bright, so brilliant they almost hurt, blazing like two small suns, scorching your skin as his gaze glides over it.

He watches you like a man possessed, a man obsessed, entirely entranced by the way pleasure passes over your face, twisting your features into the cutest little winces as you grind the head of his cock against your cervix, then smoothing them out with bliss as his shaft drags along your favourite spot, bouncing in shallow little motions to rub over that fleshy patch hard and fast, a stream of mewls spilling from your lips, stitched together with his honorific.

“You’re so pretty when you ride my cock,” he groans, words tapering off into a hoarse whimper, as if it pains him to admit it.

His palms run up your sides, fingers counting over each rib, hands committing every dip and curve and bulge to memory, marvelled by the way you fill his grip, as if he can’t believe you’re real, you’re here, you’re his—even if just for tonight.

“Yeah, yeah, keep going, use onii-chan like a toy, sweetheart.”

And he tries to be patient, he swears he does—tries not to rush you, tries to relish in the moment, in each swirl of your hips and every puff of his name—except your pace never accelerates, never moves past anything but teasing as you use his now aching cock to continually edge yourself; moans building higher and higher, louder and louder, on the cusp of the crest before they disintegrate into nothing and you start the process all over again, the delicate fluttering of your cunt enough to drive him fucking insane with desire.

It has his entire form trembling with such vigour it’s quivering the mattress, muscles locked stiff and tight as he tries to keep from moving, from bucking up wildly, from forcing you to speed the hell up. Rough fingers sink into your flesh so deep it dimples, a pathetic attempt to ground himself, rapidly blooming bruises staining your flesh.

But he’s powerless to stifle the whines leaking through the gaps of his gritted teeth, hands flexing on your hips, whole body pulled taut with restraint.

He’s sure you can feel his cock twitching inside of you, eager and impatient, begging you to move faster, to fuck him harder.

But you aren’t going to do any of that—not unless he asks for it, he realizes dimly, after you bring yourself to near orgasm for the third time in a row, giggling a little at his crestfallen expression, his hair having fallen almost completely from its trademark spiky buns, braided fishermen sweater soaked with sweat and sticking to his now heaving chest.

He really thought it was real this time. He really thought you were finally going to cream all over him, so he could finally flip you over and fuck you properly, pound you into the mattress and stuff that pretty, cute little cunt to the goddamn brim with his seed.

He’d been trying so hard to be nice, to be the loving, doting, good big brother he is—but he’s also only human, and there’s only so much misbehaviour he can bear before, finally, he snaps.

Because, sure, big brothers are meant to care for, to lead and to nurture, but they’re also meant to teach, to punish, to put bratty little sisters back in their fucking place.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Huh?” his grip on your hips tightens, halting you from moving. “You think I’m fucking stupid?”

“Never, Choso-nii,” you gasp, astonished. “I would never—”

Sincerity rings in your voice, but he can see it, the mischief tugging at the corners of your mouth, barely suppressed by your façade of innocence.

Anyone else would’ve been fooled—enchanted by your doe eyes and your dainty voice.

But not him.

No, he knows better now.

“Bullshit,” he cuts you off, eyes narrowed sharply. “You wanted to ride my cock, but you’re clearly incapable of it—”

“No I’m not!”

“—So it looks like I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

“No! I—I can do it!” you cry, face crumpled in fury, nails scrabbling at his shoulders.

“You lost your chance to prove it to me,” he growls.

The world flips suddenly, momentarily a blur of inks and ivories, a breath of surprise punched from your ribs as your back slams against the mattress, trapped between the bedspread and your big brother’s heaving chest.

“You have been testing me all fucking holiday,” he snarls, specks of spit splattering across your cheeks. “Onii-chan shouldn’t give you his cum—onii-chan shouldn’t have given you his cock at all!”

A certain type of haughtiness corrodes your shock, lips spreading into a pompous smirk.

“Oh, but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you, onii-chan.”

“You little bitch!”

His hips shove forward, forcing you further into the plush of the mattress, cockhead ramming against your cervix. A little noise of pain vibrates on the back of your tongue, shattering your arrogance, and a grin smears across his face, glinting in the moonlight.

“I think it’s time your big brother teach you a lesson in respect.”

“Y-Yeah? And how are you gonna do that?”

“You’re going to take what onii-chan gives you, and you’re going to fucking like it. And then, at the end, when you’ve gone stupid from the cock you don’t deserve, you’re going to thank me for giving it to you at all. Do you understand me?”

Defiance shines in your eyes, lacquered by a thin coating of tears, nose scrunching up in a glower.

A rough thumb and forefinger, hardened by charcoals, clamps around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks with such force that your mouth puckers, a sticky little whine squealing in your throat.

“Do you understand me?” he asks again, each word said slow with purpose, each word annunciated with intent, his eyes boring into yours, sharp and painful.

Finally, those tears push past your bloated lashes, shoved from your eyes by rapid blinking and rolling down your cheeks in glistening pairs, a half-stifled hiccup stuttering your chest.

“Y-Yes,” you whisper, nose twitching.

“What was that? Onii-chan couldn’t hear you.”

“Yes, onii-chan.”

“Good girl.”

And then his hips are snapping, hard and fast and immediate, fucking into you with such ruthlessness that it jostles your body up the bed, sheets collecting in little wrinkled bunches beneath you. Your nails sink into his shoulders, piercing flesh through the knit of his sweater, the muscles in your thighs tensing as your ankles hook around his waist, his shirt riding up, your heels digging into the those cute little dimples that cushion the base of his spine.

It hurts, every pound of his cock producing a dull, throbbing ache low and deep in your gut, another torrent of tears rushing to flood your vision.

“Ch-Choso-nii, Ch-Choso-nii,” you whimper, face screwed up in pain, his name stuttered by his rapid thrusts.

“What’s the matter?” he pouts, and it’s so condescending, dripping from his lips in an over-exaggerated coo. “Can’t take onii-chan’s cock?”

The question wafts across your face in a panted breath and you lick at your lips, sopping it up with your tongue.

“N-No,” you say, and that telltale brattiness is back, watered down by his viciousness. “I can do it—I-I can do it for you, onii-chan.”

A throaty curse escapes his lips, thrusts stammering out of rhythm for a moment as his cock twitches, and a helpless giggle bubbles up in your throat.

Even angry, he’s still so fucking easy.

He regains his composure quickly, though, face hardened to stone but beginning to splinter with pleasure.

“Brat,” he breathes out, though there’s mirth shining in his eyes, pure and fond and full of love. “You better.”

And even angry, he still sounds so fucking pretty; cracked moans and dense groans and choked gasps, all flowing from his mouth in a single stream, fractured by the piston of his hips.

The pain doesn’t fade, of course—it barely diminishes at all, the sheer massiveness of his cock making it near impossible to be dispelled, keeping the cramping pang in the pit of your belly steady and constant—but it does amplify the pleasure, nerves gnawed raw by the agony, left hypersensitive to the sparks of ecstasy that blaze through your veins with every quick, rough pump of his hips, every deep, hard slam against your bruised cervix, every rapid drag over that engorged spot.

It leaves you feeling high, leaves you feeling stupid, brain melting in a hot haze of lust and rendering you incapable of forming a single coherent thought beyond how incredible his cock is, his name and his title the only two things your sloppy, numb tongue can fully scrape together.

It’s all so much, too much, but it all feels so fucking good—s’good, Choso-nii, y’r so-so good—sentiment vibrating indistinctly in your chest.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he asks, words gone wispy, fading into a whine. “Does your onii-chan’s cock make you feel good?”

Yes, yes, yes, onii-chan, it’s so good, you’re so good!

Your head nods frantically, fingers curling in the collar of his sweater, a mess of affirmatives fucked from your mouth.

“Y’know, you’re kinda cute when you’re too cockdrunk to misbehave,” he chuckles a little, biting back a moan as your cunt clenches at the compliment. “May-Maybe onii-chan should fuck you stupid more often, huh?”

Oh, God, yes, onii-chan; oh, please, onii-chan!

“Yeah, you’d like that a bit too much, though, wouldn’t you, you little sl—ah—slut.”

Drool dribbles from the sides of your mouth as you continue nodding, eyes wide and unblinking, encrusted with stars.

“Y’so pretty, onii-chan,” you manage to mumble out, sentiment tangled in threads of spit, fingers flexing in the fabric of his sweater, as if they yearn to touch but can’t find the strength to carry out the action.

And he is, so beautiful it’s borderline sickening, strands of onyx plastered to his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, strung together in clumps and saturated in sweat; damp skin glittering in the waning moonlight spilling through the slits of his window, dewdrops catching delicately in the beams as he pounds into you, every drive of his cock accelerating his pace.

“W-Wan’your cum now,” you slur the demand through a lax pout, lids beginning to weight with exhaustion, heavy as they frame dopey eyes.

“Yeah?” he laughs a little, gaze shining with adoration, and it’s breathless, it’s beautiful, his affection wafting over your scalding face. “Onii-chan needs you to cream all over his cock first. Can you—” a grunt cuts him off, and he whimpers, pushing through his sentence, his voice strained. “Can y’do that for me, angel?”

“Uh-huh, uh—uh-huh,” your head begins nodding more fervently again, pushing your lids open with some effort to stare up at him, pupils swelling with devotion and determination.

“Then show me—Show me how gorgeous my good girl looks when she’s making a mess all over her big brother’s cock.”

Three more thrusts and your cunt is obeying, convulsing on his thick shaft as heat gushes around him, so much that you can hear it—a sick, slick squelching as he jackhammers into you, your essence coating his thighs in a shiny layer of arousal.

“Oh, fuck,” his eyes shut tightly before springing open again, suddenly rabid, ravenous.

The bed creaks as his hips speed up, skin sticky with arousal as it slaps against your own, the sharp sound mingling with his ragged pants and your hitched mewls.

“Onii—Nii-chan,” you nearly wail, fingers tangling weakly in the hair at the nape of his neck, nails scraping against his flesh. “Please, please, cum, gimme—gimme y’r cum!”

“Greedy little thing,” he rasps out, voice cracking into a whine.

But you don’t care, you can’t care, pleads spilling from your lips as your thighs tense around his waist, hips twitching in erratic little motions, crudely trying to fuck yourself on him.

“Need it, need it, onii-chan, fill my belly with it, onii-chan, please!”

“Christ,” he chokes on the curse, pace faltering as he finally gives his baby sister what she wants, cock throbbing almost violently while it fills you with hot, thick cum, so much you swear you really can feel it, stuffing your belly as full as it can be, tummy bulging cutely with his seed.

You must tell him that, sentiment slipping from your lips without your permission, because he moans again, his cock giving another weak spurt, hips stuttering as he tries to fuck further into you, grinding the head into your sore cervix.

“Yeah, yeah,” you’re murmuring, hips rolling up to meet his own. “Push it into me, onii-chan, push it into my cunt nice n deep, do-don’t waste a single drop!”

“You really are gonna be the death of me,” he whines, face buried in your hair as he collapses on top of you, hips still moving in lazy little circles, shudders of overstimulation rippling through his form.

“Mm,” you hum, on the cusp of unconsciousness, nuzzling your face into his neck like a kitten, then lapping at a few droplets of sweat streaming down the column. “What are lil sisters for?”

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #this ended up being waaaay longer than i originally indended #absolutely no one is surprised #tw:pseudocest

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joelsgreys · 4 months

Text

when i’m feeling alone, you remind me of home

Javier Peña x DEA Agent Female Reader

summary: Spending Christmas in Bogotá, Colombia isn’t ideal. Javier knows you’re missing home a little harder than usual, so he comes up with a plan to cheer you up.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. minor deviation from canon timeline (had to make it work), reader is an agent for the DEA, NO AGE SPECIED, NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION, reader understands and speaks spanish but no mention of her race or ethnicity, friends to lovers trope, reader celebrates christmas, reader has a good relationship with her family, minor smoking and alcohol consumption (both reader and javi), reader’s a bit rough around the edges sometimes. fluff, soft javi, he’s a bit of a grinch in the beginning though. switches in pov’s and tenses.

*ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS AT THE END.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: thank you to @hellishjoel for inviting me to join in on this fun project!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist

Javier Peña doesn’t do Christmas.

He especially doesn’t do Christmas in Bogotá.

He doesn’t see the point even acknowledging it.

There are more important things on his mind.

Capturing Pablo Escobar.

Dismantling the dangerous Medellín Cartel.

Living long enough to tell the fucking tale.

Those were his priorities while in Colombia.

Not decking the halls with boughs of holly.

And yet, there he is, fighting with a string of bright and colorful lights, wishing these things would put themselves on the tree. “Puta madre,” Javi curses underneath his breath as he tries untangling them from around his waist. Somehow, he only makes it worse. He grumbles, “This is fucking ridiculous—it shouldn’t be this fucking hard throwing lights on a goddamn fucking tree—” He pauses, spins around to find where he’d gone wrong and then continues grouching to himself. “Can’t believe people do this fucking shit for fun. Stupidest thing I’ve ever—”

Javi manages to free himself and glances down at his watch to see he’s running out of time—it’s past five now, and unless Messina’s in one of those bad fucking moods of hers and decides to dump some last minute paperwork onto your desk, then you’re going to be walking through the front door soon.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling a deep and frustrated sigh.

He’d been an idiot to decline Connie’s offer to help him when she had dropped off the decorations for him earlier that afternoon.

“You sure you don’t need my help?” she had asked as she handed him the cardboard box overflowing with festive ornaments and tinsel. “I have a couple of more hours before I have to be at the clinic, you know. I can help you set it all up for her, make it all nice and pretty.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got it handled,” he’d replied. “I’m sure it won’t take me too long to put some—is this fucking fruit?” Confused, Javi shifted the box over to his hip, pulling out a string of dried oranges and red cranberries. “Um, what the hell is this for? This supposed to be a snack for me while I decorate?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a homemade garland.”

“It’s a homemade what now?”

“Garland, Javier. It goes on the tree.”

Amused, he’d raised an eyebrow at her.

“Fruit going back onto the tree? That’s ironic.”

Sighing, Connie rolled her eyes at him once more.

“Last chance. Do you want my help or not, Javi?”

“I appreciate it, but like I said, I’ve got it handled.”

She’d shrugged. “Alright, suit yourself, then.”

Little did he know how he’d regret his decision. It’s a bigger headache than he thought it would be, an incredible waste of valuable time he could’ve been using to hunt down new leads, do the job he came here to do and find Pablo Escobar. Then again, the more he thinks about it, the more Javi realizes this isn’t a waste of his time at all—not really.

Because he’s doing this for you.

Because he knows you love Christmas.

Because he knows you’ve been feeling homesick.

The season you normally adored was bringing you nothing but emptiness this year. There is a void—a hole in your heart that only your family could fill.

“Messina denied my request for time off,” you had told him, taking a drag of his cigarette—you’re not much of a smoker, but he’d learned that tended to change on occasion when you were upset. “Said it isn’t fair to let me go home for Christmas. That I’m not the only one who wants to be with their family. And I get it. I do.” Sighing, you took a second drag and then handed the cigarette back to Javier; he’d put it between his lips, the taste of cherry flavored lip gloss that lingered on the filtered tip prompting a craving stronger than his craving for nicotine. “It was selfish of me to even think of taking time off. I just—I miss spending Christmas in my hometown, you know? Waking up to snow outside my window in the mornings. Building snowmen with my sister, hurling snowballs at my brother. I miss my mother and her cooking. I miss my father and how even at our age, he still insists on pretending to be Santa.”

Laughing, Javier leaned forward on his stool.

You’d asked him to meet you at your usual spot—a quiet lounge bar right around the corner from your apartment. When he walked in and saw the scotch in front of you on the table, he’d known something was wrong. You’re not much of a drinker, either.

“Does he eat the cookies and drink the milk too?”

You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest, a little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. He tried not to let his gaze longer there too long—he’s just one man. There was only so much strength he could muster to keep fighting the temptation.

“Of course. He takes his role very, very seriously.”

Despite your smile, he’d noticed it right away.

The unmistakable sadness in your eyes.

You were tough as fucking nails.

In this line of work, you had no choice but to be.

But Javier knew your family was your weakness.

His weakness?

His weakness was sitting there in front of him with a crestfallen expression on her pretty face, tracing around the rim of her glass with her finger.

“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” Your voice had thickened, the emotions you’re used to bottling up threatening to boil over.

“Of course not,” he assured you. “There is nothing stupid about wanting to go back home to see your family. There’s nothing stupid about wanting to be with them for the holidays. I promise you that.”

You snorted. “Peña, we’re trying to bring down the most dangerous man in all of South America. Last thing I need to be doing right now is dreaming of a white Christmas. It’s fucking stupid, alright?”

Hesitantly, Javier lifted his hand and placed it over yours—it wasn’t the first time he’d ever held it, not the first time he had shown physical affection, but this was the most vulnerable he had ever seen you and he didn’t want to make things worse. Once he realized it was okay, he brushed the back of it with his thumb softly, soothingly.

“Yo hablaré con Messina, cariño.”

“No hay caso para eso, Javier.”

“Maybe I can convince her to let you go. She’s got me and she’s got Murphy. We’ll handle things here while you head home for a few days, spend a week with your family for Christmas. Doesn’t hurt to try, you know.” Javi squeezed your hand. Knowing just how fucking stubborn you could be, he insisted on it. “Por favor, cielo. Dejame ayudarte con esto. Yo solo quiero verte feliz. Dejame ayudarte.”

You drained the rest of your scotch and swallowed it along with the lump that had climbed it’s way up your throat. Setting the glass back down, you then pulled your hand out from under his and stood up.

“Forget it. I’m here because I have a job to do—we both have a job to do. I’ll get over it, Javier. Always do.”

Before he could say another word, you’d picked up your jacket and purse, making a quick dash for the exit before he could see the stubborn tear slipping out from the corner of your eye and down the side of your face. But he had seen it, and that’s exactly why he knew he had to do something for you.

About an hour later, Javi places a glittering star on top of the white spruce and then takes a couple of steps back, hands on his hips. Cocking his head to the side, he observes the tree and makes sure that he hasn’t left a single spot bare. He decides to add more gold tinsel until he feels oddly satisfied—and once he is, he pulls out his pocket knife, using it to open the small sized box he had brought with him; two different addresses were scribbled on the side of it in your mother’s handwriting, his apartment’s address the destination, her address the return.

“I wrapped it well,” she’d said over the phone. “It’s her most prized possession, so I really hope it gets to you in one piece or she’s going to kill us both.”

Javier slowly unwraps the object inside and feels a wave of complete and utter relief wash over him to see it made it through customs without breaking.

He squints, taking a better look at the ornament.

The little blonde ballerina is made of porcelain and holds a nutcracker soldier in her arms—the skirt of her dress is white lace embroidered with teeny red rosettes that perfectly match the blush painted on her cheeks and the color of the bow in her hair.

“It’s Clara,” your mother had explained to him.

“Who?” he’d asked, stupidly.

“Clara. You know, from The Nutcracker?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” he’d fibbed. “Clara. Got it.”

He had no clue what she had been talking about—but if it’s special to you, then it’s special to him.

Carefully, Javi hangs it on tree just as he hears the front door open and then slam shut so hard that it causes the paper thin walls of your unit to rattle.

“Peña!” you shout loudly. “You fucking asshole!”

Lip rolling between his teeth, he stifles a laugh.

You must have seen his Wrangler parked outside.

Grinning, Javier steps out into the hallway to greet you. “Hola, hermosa. Bienvenida a casa.”

“So, let me get this straight,” you say, tossing your purse and unit keys onto a nearby table. “You offer to give me ride to and from work but then proceed to ditch me and leave work three hours early—you leave me with no other fucking choice but to call a cab to bring me home and when he drops me off, I see your fucking car outside of my apartment?”

Rubbing his chin, he hums, “Sounds about right.”

You approach him, your hands curled into fists.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Javier?”

Javi’s quick to hold up his own hands in defense.

He won’t put it past you to knock him out—he and Murphy have seen you bring down men twice your size before without a weapon. Neither of them can decide if it’s hot as hell or downright terrifying.

“Okay, put those away and let me explain,” he tells you, shaking his head. “I’m really sorry I did that to you, but I did it for a reason.”

You scoff, “Well, if that reason was to piss me off, I have some news for you—it fucking worked.”

“That wasn’t the reason. Not this time, anyway.”

Chuckling, Javier extends a hand, holding it out to you.

You peer at it. “What are you doing, Peña?”

“Ven conmigo, cielo. Tengo una sorpresa para ti.”

Suspiciously, you ask him, “What did you do?”

He laughs again. He knew it wouldn’t make it easy for him. “You do know how surprises work, right?”

You lift your chin. “I do and I don’t like surprises.”

“I know you don’t, but I think you’ll like this one.”

Javi continues to hold out his hand and waits.

He’s just as stubborn as you are, if not more.

“We can stand here all fucking night, corazón.”

Sighing in defeat, you place your hand in his, heart skipping a beat when he smiles and laces together your fingers with his own.

“Cierra tus ojos.”

“Javier, I don’t want—”

He quickly cuts you off. “Do you trust me?”

Of course. Hell, you trusted him with your life.

And not just because it’s a job requirement.

Huffing, you do as he says and close your eyes.

“Good.” Javier places his other hand on your waist and his fingers brush against the patch of smooth, soft skin peeking out from between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your blouse. Ignoring his burning desire to feel more of you, he leads the way into the living room and positions you in front of the tree. Without dropping your hand, he moves to stand directly behind you, chest pressed lightly against your back.“Puedes abrir tus ojos, bonita.”

“Look Peña, I don’t know what you’re up to but—”

Your own startled gasp cuts you off mid sentence.

Squeezing your hand, he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and you can feel his grin as he whispers, “Sorpresa, preciosa. Tienes un arbol de Navidad. Qué tal te parece?”

You open your mouth to speak, then clamp it shut.

His surprise had left you speechless.

Pleased with himself, Javi nudges you towards the tree and then drops his hands down at his sides as he watches you gingerly touch the needles.

Closing your eyes, you inhale deeply, the delicious, woodsy smell of pine reminding you of your family and how you’d all pile into your father’s old pickup truck and head to the Christmas Tree Farm to find the perfect white spruce to take home. Your father took great care in the picking process—he wanted the tallest, fluffiest, most fragrant tree. “Need this place to smell like the farm!” he’d boom. You smile and can’t help but to think he’d approve of Javi—if not because of what he had done for you, then the choice in tree would be enough to win him over.

“Do you like it?” he asks, softly.

You open your eyes and whirl around. “Javi, I can’t believe you did this,” you say, breathlessly. Smiling brighter than the lights on the Christmas tree, you throw your arms around him. “I love it so much!”

He savors the embrace—and wonders if you know just how perfectly you fit right in his arms.

“There’s one more surprise,” Javier informs you as he spins you around to look at the tree once again. “Do you see it?”

“See what?” Peering at the tree, you frown. “What am I supposed to be looking for—wait a second, is that—is that Clara?” Your hand flies to your mouth and you look up at him in complete shock. “That’s the ornament my grandmother made for me when I was a baby! I’ve had her since my first Christmas. How did you—?”

“Santa no cuenta sus secretos.” Javi grins, pulling you closer against his side. “But if you must know, your mom sent it to me,” he confesses. “Actually, I have to be honest—this whole thing was her idea.”

Perplexed, you ask, “This was my mom’s idea?”

“I know you’ve been having a hard time being here during the holidays instead of with your family,” he says. “I called her up a couple of weeks ago, asked her what I could do for you. We started talking and came up with this.” He shrugs and touches a hand to the back of his neck, sheepishly. “I know it’s not the same as going home. But I thought it might be nice to bring a little piece of home here to you.”

Warmth blossoms inside of your chest as you turn to face him. You place a hand on his chest. “Javi?”

Nervously, his throat bobs. “Yeah?”

“Why did you do this for me?”

Javier lifts his hand and tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “I told you. I just want to see you happy.”

“But why?”

You know why.

But you need to hear him say it.

You need to hear it from his own mouth.

Javi’s hand moves to cup the side of your face. “Is it not obvious?” he murmurs as he grazes the silky soft skin over your cheekbone. “Tú bien sabes qué yo siento algo por ti, hermosa. Aunque no sientas igual.”

“How do you know I don’t feel the same for you?”

“Do you?” His thumb sweeps your bottom lip. “Do you feel the same for me?”

Your hand curls around his red plaid flannel.

“I shouldn’t,” you admit. “We’re work partners.”

He feigns offense. “Ouch. And here I was, thinking we were friends.” He now takes your chin between his index finger and his thumb. Licking his lips, his eyes meet yours. “Breaking my heart, baby.”

Your breath audibly catches. “We are friends—and it scares me to put our friendship on the line.”

“But?” he prompts as he tilts your head up toward his. His opposite hand finds your hip and pulls you closer to him.

“But when you do things like this—it’s hard for me not to fucking fall in love with you, Peña.” You drag your hand down his chest, your fingers relishing in the softness of his flannel. “It’s so fucking hard for me not to fall in love with somebody who feels like home.”

Javier’s chuckles softly.

“For the record, this wasn’t a ploy to get you to fall in love with me, corazón. But if it worked—” Javier pauses, dropping his hand from your face. “Then I guess it’s worth pulling this thing out.”

He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Javi, what the hell are you—?”

He grins, holding the mistletoe above your heads.

“Connie said this might come in handy.”

Your eyes flicker to his lips, then meet his gaze.

“Ven aqui, Peña.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull Javi in and crash your mouth against his. You brush his bottom lip with your tongue and he grants you the access you’re looking for. He tastes like spearmint and scotch, and something else too.

He tastes like yours.

And he feels like home.

diver credit to @saradika-graphics ❤️

Translations

Yo hablaré con Messina, cariño. - I’ll talk to Messina, darling.

No hay caso para eso, Javier. - There’s no point, Javier.

Dejame ayudarte con esto. Yo solo quiero verte feliz. - Let me help you with this. I just want to see you happy.

Ven conmigo, cielo. Tengo una sorpresa para ti. - Come with me, I have a surprise for you.

Cierra tus ojos. - Close your eyes.

Puedes abrir tus ojos, bonita. - You can open your eyes, pretty girl.

Sorpresa, preciosa. Tienes un arbol de Navidad. Qué tal te parch? - Surprise, precious girl. You have a Christmas tree. What do you think?

Santa no cuenta sus secretos. - Santa doesn’t tell his secrets.

Tú bien sabes qué yo siento algo por ti, hermosa. Aunque no sientes igual. - You know all too well I have feelings for you. Even if you don’t feel the same.

Ven aqui, Peña. - Come here, Peña.

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x you #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fluff #narcos fanfiction #javier peña one shot #javier peña drabble #12 days of pedro

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the-boy-meets-evil · 4 months

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a new home for the holidays | ljh

(where you can't go home for the holidays and end up having a much better christmas than you expect.)

pairing: jihoon (woozi) x afab!reader genre: acquaintances to lovers, christmas!au | fluff & smut rating: explicit word count: 10.5k warnings: lots of mentions of christmas (including decorating, family, cooking, etc.), if the holidays are too much please skip this, mentions of family issues, reader can't go home for the holidays (and they actually like christmas), no gendered pronouns used for reader, mentions of past death (family member woozi mentions), woozi owns the house where reader rents a room but there are no power dynamics, explicit and implied smut, woozi is kinda grumpy, reader is super bummed about christmas, woozi ends up being a secret softie smut warnings: lots of kissing, thigh riding, nipple play, marking if you squint, slight begging, two ass slaps, oral (reader rec.), fingering (reader receiving), overstimulation, squirting, briefest handjob, unprotected sex (don't do this), implied aftercare, implied morning after sex

author's note: this is for @k-vanity's 25 tips for surviving the holidays and the final prompt is christmas. i don't really have anything to say for myself. this is not what i'm supposed to be writing and it kinda just happened. merry christmas (if you celebrate) and happy holidays. i've already had christmas dinner, so if you see any mistakes, blame it on the drinks.

The holidays are your favorite time of year. Always have been. Nothing has really changed over the years. You moved away for work and fell in love with a new city. Now you just get to have twice the holiday cheer. You decorate your space in the house you live in with friends (and the grumpy house owner who’s resisted most of your attempts to be friends). Then, you go back to visit family when it gets closer to Christmas. It’s been a really great system. You’re just as excited this year as every other year.

Until your plans change. It’s only the day before you’re supposed to fly back home when your dad calls to let you know that he and your mom are sick. They know that you have a lot of post-Christmas plans (New Years, school work, and even a trip) and they don’t want to risk getting you sick as well. They insist that you can still come back, if you want, but warn you that they’ll have to keep their distance. You spend a lot of time thinking about it (read: talk it over exhaustively with your closest friends) before deciding that you’re just going to stay put for the holidays. You can plan another time to catch up with your family and have a time-shifted Christmas. After all, you think of the holidays as more of a feeling than a specific date on the calendar. You can find something to keep you busy for the 25th.

A couple of your friends invite you to come and spend Christmas Eve or Christmas Day with them, but you decline. You appreciate the sentiment, and really consider it in at least one case, but it just doesn’t feel right. Your family has so many traditions that it feels weird to consider dropping in on someone else’s. Besides, you won’t be alone in the house. (Even if Jihoon, who owns the house and rents out rooms, isn't always the friendliest. And doesn’t seem to enjoy Christmas at all.)

It’s four days before Christmas. You’re sitting in the living room aimlessly scrolling through your phone while you wait for Jun and Minghao to come downstairs. The three of you were all supposed to be heading to the airport together today, but now you’re just going to be driving them so they don’t have to pay for a ride. A sound makes you look up before you realize it’s not nearly enough noise for Jun, who can’t seem to go anywhere without being too loud. Instead, Jihoon only nods at you before he settles into an armchair on the other side of the room with a book. After a few minutes, you hear the telltale giggles of one of your best friends as he rushes down the stairs. Jun is through the door first, followed by an exasperated Minghao. Nevertheless, you see the signs he’s trying to fight his smile. You stand to meet them at the doorway.

“Bestie,” Jun signsongs when he reaches you. Throws his arms around you for good measure. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“Jun, for the last time, we were supposed to leave for the airport 45 minutes ago,” Minghao sighs. “There wouldn’t be time to pack.”

“Details, we’ve got plenty of time,” Jun waves off.

“And last minute plane tickets are insane,” Minghao adds.

“Less insane with a travel credit,” Jun supplies, undeterred.

“Jun, please, we really need to leave,” Minghao begs.

“Are you not going home?” Jihoon asks. He’s so quiet when he moves that you didn’t even hear him stand up to join your group.

“Oh, no, I guess I forgot to let you know,” you start. You didn’t. Jihoon scares you a little. He’s nice enough and he’s great as a landlord, if you can even call him that, but you’re not really friends.

“You don’t have to let me know,” he huffs out.

“I decided not to go home this year. Both my parents are sick and I don’t want to catch it too, so we’re timeshifting the holidays,” you say.

“So it’s just you two in the house for Christmas,” Jun says brightly as he throws an arm around Jihoon. “Take good care of my bestie, okay?”

“It’s fine, Jihoon, I’m not expecting you to do anything with me,” you say before he can even open his mouth.

“But…” Jun starts and you turn him around before he can finish.

“Come on, before we give Hao an aneurysm. Do you need help getting your stuff outside?” you ask.

“Bless you,” Minghao mutters as you’re wrangling your best friend out of the house.

Once you’re back at the house, all you want to do is lay in your bed. It was a lot of work to pretend everything was fine while taking Jun and Minghao to the airport. Traffic was bad getting back, so you didn’t really have it in you to break down. Now that you’re home and in your room, the tears don’t come. It’s not who you are. It sucks that you’re not going home for the holidays, but it’s still the holidays and you can still make the most of it. Maybe. Somehow.

Somewhere in the house, you hear a door close loudly. Probably just Jihoon since everyone else has left. For a moment, you consider going downstairs to see what he’s up to. But, again, you’re not really friends. Moving seems like too much effort, anyway. You flop back onto your bed and get comfortable. Wait until you’re hungry to actually leave your room to find something to eat. You’re probably going to need more groceries before Christmas, because you still want to make some of your favorites, but you probably have enough for something to eat tonight. When you walk into the kitchen, you smell something delicious. There’s a big pot on the stove with the burner on beneath it.

You’re just about to lift the lid when Jihoon comes back into the kitchen. “Leave it.”

“Oh, sorry!” you gasp, surprised by his appearance and unsure of the tone.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says. “I just don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“That’s a big pot of soup,” you say.

“Yeah, I figured you might be hungry,” he says, like it’s the most logical thing in the world.

“Oh!” you say.

“I mean, I don’t know if you like Chicken Ramen soup, it’s a little spicy, but I like it around this time of year,” Jihoon says. He looks a bit awkward and unsure.

“That sounds really nice, actually,” you admit. “You don’t mind sharing?”

“No, I wanted to share,” he assures you. “It’ll be done soon.”

With a nod, you go to sit down at the kitchen table. The silence isn’t totally comfortable, but it’s not uncomfortable either. Not exactly. This is already shaping up to be the most time you’ve spent alone with him, if you end up eating together. It makes you wonder more about him. He seems really focused as he cleans up around the kitchen. His black hair is the longest you can remember seeing it, falling around his face as he leans over. It’s almost soft to watch him brush it out of his face.

As you’re sitting there waiting for the soup to finish, you realize that you don’t know much about him at all. Even though you’ve lived in this house almost two years, he’s still very much a mystery. You know that the house has been in the family for a long time and he was the only one who was willing to take the project of managing it on. Or that’s what you think he said once. Someone, maybe a cousin or friend or something, thought he was a bit crazy for renting rooms out like this. But, it’s a massive house and he’s single. (There are 6 bedrooms, all with attached bathrooms, multiple living rooms, and an office that he uses for himself. The house is paid off so the rent goes towards things like property taxes, maintenance plans, and anything else that comes up.) You know he also produces music, though you’ve never heard any of it. Not that anyone has, he’s very private and doesn’t even share what name he produces under.

It’s clear when he brings each of you a bowl of soup that he’s expecting the food to do the talking for him. It’s cute and also puzzling at the same time. How does someone who wants to speak through something like making soup have a successful career as a producer? You shake the thought away and make conversation yourself. Most of what you get are short answers, but it’s something. And you definitely learn more about him. He deflects a little when you ask about his family, prefers to turn it around so you can talk about yours. Which you don’t really mind, even if it’s a little sad to think you won’t get to see them.

“Hey, I was thinking I might go and see about getting more decorations for the house tomorrow. Is that okay?” you ask when you’re finished eating.

“You really like Christmas, don’t you?”

It’s not really an answer, which makes you look up to find something of a smile on his face. Maybe a little teasing behind the smile. “Yeah, I just really like the joy of it all.”

“I don’t mind. There also might be some stuff in the attic that I can pull out,” he says as he stands to clear the dishes.

“That would be better than braving the crazies,” you say.

“Come on, I’ll show you how to get up there,” he says. Doesn’t even check if you’re following him before leaving the kitchen.

You scramble to your feet to catch up to him. Truthfully, you didn’t even know the house had an attic. It isn’t surprising. It’s an old house, but still. This is just another small thing that you feel like helps you better unwrap the mystery of Lee Jihoon. Upstairs, he opens the closet and pulls out a hook to unlatch a door in the ceiling just outside of Minghao’s room. Huh. You’ve never even noticed it, not that you’re outside this room often. To your further surprise, Jihoon flicks on a switch and then climbs up the ladder into the attic. Once again, you follow close behind him.

There are a lot of boxes in the attic, mostly labeled with names or rooms or both. You figure they probably belong to relatives. Or maybe past renters. In any case, it seems best to not bother asking. Especially since he’s making a beeline to one corner. You fight the urge to laugh. So much for thinking there were decorations up here. By the way he walks, you can tell he knows exactly where they are. It’s worth it, though, because there are about a dozen boxes with garlands, ornaments, wreaths, and other various knickknacks. Jihoon asks which of the boxes you might want and sighs when you say you want to bring them all down. Doesn’t argue, though, just tells you how to help him get them down. Even helps you get some of them downstairs.

“Guess we might need a tree,” he sighs when you get the last box out of the attic.

“Oh, I can find a fake one at the store or something. It’s no big deal,” you mumble out.

“I have to take care of something in the morning, then we can go pick one out,” he says without looking at you.

“Really?” It comes out nearly as a squeak.

He rolls his eyes, which might discourage you if you hadn’t also caught the faintest smile. “Yeah, we might as well with all this stuff out of the attic.”

You distinctly hear him mumbling something about the damn Christmas spirit as he walks away, leaving you to happily sort through boxes. Hope can be dangerous, especially around the holidays when your plans are interrupted. But, you can’t help it. You feel a little spark of hope.

The house is quiet when you wake up. It’s hard to tell if Jihoon is around or not until you peek out into where you all park to see that his truck is missing. When you first met him, the truck surprised you. It’s not really flashy, or even new, for that matter, just an old, vintage Chevy that’s in completely perfect condition. It’s probably older than either of you, but you’d never know by how it looks. The more you get to know this man, the more the truck makes sense.

With the house empty, you can listen to music as loud as you want. You connect your phone to the speaker and Christmas music carries throughout the house in moments. Coffee in hand, you set out to get some of the decorations up while it’s just you. But, even with the music and the decorations, you’re feeling a little empty again. It’s not the same to be doing this all by yourself. You know, at least on some level, that you’re not totally alone. There’s also Jihoon and he isn’t going anywhere for the holidays. But, he obviously doesn’t like Christmas much if the lack of decorations or tree are anything to go by. Maybe you’re just a burden on him too.

Your phone dings and you look around for a minute before you find it on the table. The surprise of who’s texting you makes you unlock your phone right away.

Jihoon: Finished early and actually found a tree that works when I was driving home Jihoon: I hope that’s okay. I didn’t want it to be gone

There’s no explanation for the tears you’re blinking away. It’s not about picking out the tree. That part of Christmas hasn’t ever been an important part to you. Ever since you moved away, your parents got one before you flew in anyway. No, it’s more to do with the little you know about Jihoon and that truck. It’s almost like his child. He’s so careful about it. Somehow, Jun has managed to at least get to the point of being friends with him. Then again, Jun can wear anyone down. But, through Jun, you know how particular Jihoon can be about his truck. You distinctly remember Jun saying he wasn’t allowed to eat or drink in it (not that unusual) and that he had to brush off his shoes before getting in to avoid the dirt (a lot more unusual, especially someplace it snows). It probably doesn’t mean anything. It’s probably just your emotions about the change of holiday plans taking over. But, you’re overwhelmed that he’d pick up a tree and use his own truck.

You: oh, yeah! thanks! You: let me know you’re here and i’ll come help

The tree that Jihoon shows up with is completely perfect. Even still wrapped, you can tell that it’s going to be full. And that you’re going to have to work a little harder to get the branches to fall by Christmas. Not only did Jihoon use his truck to bring a tree back, he also has several bags of stuff, including a tree stand. It makes you wonder what he actually had to do this morning. It isn’t until you have to bring the tree in that you wonder how the hell you’re going to lift it into the house. That is, until Jihoon reaches through the branches and lifts up the tree. You try not to watch the way his muscles tense under his shirt. Fail miserably, actually, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He calls for you from the living room to help him fasten the tree into place. It’s a good thing, too, because you don’t really need to be dwelling on whether the guy who’s basically your landlord is hot or not.

Once the tree is up, he makes an excuse about needing to get some work done and disappears off to his studio. It had actually been really fun, even if it was short, to have Jihoon around and sharing in the space. It feels a little empty again. But, there’s still plenty of decorating to do. So you get to work. You’re hoping that somewhere in the process of decorating, it’ll start to feel a little more like Christmas. You consider calling Jun to answer his texts. Unfortunately, he knows your tones of voice better than you do. There’s no way you’ll be able to hide being sad. You can just fire off a couple quick texts to tell him about the tree and about how you’re decorating now.

An hour later, you’re kind of ready to give up. It’s just not going to feel like Christmas. Not when the joy and the sense of togetherness are missing. The second that you hear footsteps on the stairs, you wipe your eyes. The last thing you want is for Jihoon to see you crying. If he can tell, he doesn’t comment. Doesn’t say anything, actually. Just puts two bags down and starts sorting through ornaments, both old and clearly new. It’s the smallest gesture, yet you don’t feel so alone anymore.

“Do you want to listen to some music?” he finally asks to break the silence.

“Yeah, I can get a playlist,” you answer and reach for your phone.

“I have some, too. I’m not heartless,” he says with a chuckle.

“I never said…” you start, only to stop when he rests a hand on your arm.

“I was joking,” he says.

You’re not trying to be nosy, but you see him scroll through a few playlists while he’s looking for holiday music. “What were those?”

Jihoon looks up at you, confused, before looking back down at his phone. “Oh, nothing. Just stuff I’m working on.”

“I’d love to hear that,” you admit.

“What? The stuff that’s not done?” he asks, abandoning his search for a playlist.

“Well, yeah, but I meant the stuff you have finished,” you say.

“Oh, um, I don’t usually share that. I like to keep that separate,” he says awkwardly.

“It’s fine, I totally get it,” you say, brushing off any disappointment, and return to your focus on sorting through ornaments.

“Fuck it, sure. I’ll let you listen to some,” he says. Your head whips up with a beaming smile. And you have no way of knowing that it makes his heart stutter.

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah, but if you hate them, don’t tell me,” he warns.

You hold out your pinky as a promise. Jihoon grumbles under his breath for a second before linking his pinky through yours as a promise. He scrolls back to one of the earlier playlists, keeps the name hidden from you, and hits play. The first song immediately puts you in a good mood. It’s upbeat and happy, full of good life advice. Just the type of thing you need right now. One song flows into the next and you’re smiling without even realizing it, singing along to songs that you can’t believe you know. Can’t believe this quiet man has so much talent. Can’t believe he works on such popular songs and still lives a simple life in a shared house with roommates that are way too loud.

It’s him that starts the conversation up again, seemingly unable to stop himself from asking for your thoughts. It’s the most animated you’ve ever seen him, asking for your opinions and talking about his process. The more you listen, the more he seems to have to say. At times, you’re not even sure that you hear what he’s saying. This animated side to him has you so entranced that you think you’d do anything to keep him speaking. Keep him smiling like this.

The house feels a lot warmer now that you’re decorating together and talking about anything under the sun. Talking about music seems to have opened him up to talking about a lot of things. About his interests, books he’s reading, games he likes to play. You find there are actually a lot of those things that you have in common. You have similar taste in books and in games, even offer to lend some books to him. He makes you promise that it’ll be an even trade so that he feels better about it.

When dinner time comes around, he suggests ordering delivery. You agree, but only on the condition that you can figure out a Christmas menu over dinner. That signature sigh and eye roll make another appearance, like he’s so exasperated by the process. It’s less effective now that you’re starting to know him better. A part of you thinks that it might even be an action reserved for people he cares about, even if that care is only small. But, you’re starting to learn how to play the game too. You pout at him and make your eyes as big as you can when you ask the second time. Before you can ask the third time, he relents and agrees.

With your favorite food spread out in front of you, from a place he’s somehow never tried, you start to make a list of your favorite Christmas dishes. Thankfully, some of your favorite things seem to line up and otherwise, Jihoon doesn’t really mind what you have. Once, he reminds you that there are only two of you, so you don’t need to go overboard. You’re quick to point out that leftovers are great and that your housemates come back shortly after Christmas. Again, he finds himself giving in to what you want.

You’re watching him clean up the boxes and considering your next question. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” he points out, back still to you.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “You’re such a dick.”

“Now is that any way to speak to your landlord?” he teases, finally turning around.

“That’s actually what I wanted to ask you,” you say.

“If you can call me a dick?” he wonders and you laugh.

“No,” you manage. “No. I wanted to know…well, you’re obviously successful. Why live in a house with so many loud housemates?”

Jihoon looks thoughtful for a moment, turns around to continue throwing things out. You think he’s not going to answer when he comes to sit down across from you again. “I like the chaos. It's good for me. I don’t just mean because it inspires me. It does. But, it’s also good. I get a little in my head, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t always have the easiest time getting out. There’s always someone around here.”

“You secretly like us,” you coo because you’re not sure what else to say.

“I regret telling you,” he says and huffs.

“I’m kidding, Ji. I really like living here, even if you scared me at first. It feels like a weird, dysfunctional family,” you say.

“Do I still?” he asks, oddly serious.

“What? Scare me?”

“Yeah.”

“No, you don’t. I think you’re actually a lot softer than you want us to realize,” you say and watch his face. “Don’t worry, Ji, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Is that nickname going to stick?” he wonders.

“That depends. Do you like it?”

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“Of course it would.”

He looks away and clears his throat. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was a little shy or embarrassed. “I do like it.”

“I’ll be sure to use it a lot, then,” you say. More tease, really. You’re curious to see how he reacts and you’re not disappointed. There’s a slight blush to his cheeks. If you could see his ears through his hair, you think those would be tinged red as well.

It takes him a minute to regain his composure. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re exhausting?”

“How do you think I manage to keep up with Jun?” you fire back.

“He adores you, you know,” Jihoon says and it’s the softest you’ve seen him while talking about another person.

“I’m glad because I adore him, too,” you say without even thinking about it. “Although, sometimes he acts like the brother I definitely never wanted.”

Jihoon actually laughs at that, a real laugh, and the sound is so pretty. “The brother you never wanted. How does he feel about that?”

“Fine because I also tell him that sometimes he’s the brother I did want. So it evens out,” you reason.

“You see him like family?” he asks, an unplaceable emotion on his face.

“Yeah,” you answer immediately.

“Why didn’t you take his offer to go home with him for the holidays?”

That’s not the question you’re expecting. It makes you frown a little. You had forgotten, just for a moment, that this year was different. “Oh, well, I don’t know. Jun is family to me and I do love him like he’s my brother. But, um, I guess it’s that he’s family to me. Not his family. I like them and they’re great, but it would feel like intruding to have accepted. Like I was someone they had to make feel welcome, a guest. Not someone who was actually part of everything.”

“I get that,” he says.

“Why do you stay here on Christmas?” you wonder, venturing further into knowing him.

His shoulders slump a little bit, like he’s not really happy with how this turned either. “I don’t really talk to a lot of my family anymore.”

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t…” you start and he waves you off.

“No, no, it’s fine. You asked me about being successful and still living here with housemates. I told you most of the story, but not all of it,” he admits.

Without thinking about it, you get up from your chair to sit beside him. Put your hand on his arm to let him know that he doesn’t have to share this part of himself if he doesn’t want to or if he’s not ready. But, he insists he wants to share it with you now that you’ve also heard some of his music. His grandfather owned his house and got it from his grandfather before him. Jihoon had always been close to his grandparents. He was the only grandkid to come around and help them with things. His grandmother would try to teach him how to cook, even though he was never very good. She also taught him all sorts of games, that’s where he got a lot of that from. His grandfather taught him how to fix a car himself, how to fix things around the house, just how to be able to rely on yourself. They were the first ones that he told about wanting to make music and the first to encourage him even when the rest of the family thought it was stupid. They were the first ones to find out he’d gotten his first shot at just seventeen years old. They were the ones who taught him how to be careful with his money, to not blow it all because you never knew when the next shot would come. In the end, it wasn’t even old age that took them. A car accident on a snowy night took his grandmother. He lost his grandfather six months later from a broken heart.

It’s hard to remember that time because they were everything to him. He hadn’t even realized that they had changed their Will. That they had rewritten it to leave everything to him. If he had known, he never would have accepted it. But, there was a letter, too, confirming his grandfather had been of sound mind when they changed it. It went on to say that Jihoon was the only one in the family that came around just because he wanted to. So, he was the only one they felt could care for their legacy after they were gone. Something like that, it brings out the worst in people. Jihoon’s family was no different. First, they all insisted that he should share it, that they were owed part of it by blood. And then, they started to realize that he had his own success already. That he was selling songs and working with more people. They didn’t know who, exactly, because he never told him his pseudonym for producing, but the final letter from his grandfather mentioned how proud they had been. It got even uglier from there. Family members he’d never spoken to came out of the woodwork asking for favors or saying he should help. He had the means to do it, by his own success and the inheritance. In the end, he wound up cutting most of them out unless they were able to understand that they weren’t entitled to something he earned.

“So that’s why I stay here, it’s just easier,” he finishes.

You’re not even sure when you started crying, but you turn away to wipe your eyes. It’s not even your sadness. When you turn back, you find Jihoon looking closed-off. It breaks your heart all over again as you reach out to him. “Nobody should have to deal with that. What they did, what they put you through, it’s awful.”

“We all have history, right?” he asks. “I just don’t like to share it because I don’t want to be questioning if people like me for me or for what I could do for them.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I still see you as a former grumpy cat, secret softie and my…” you start, but trail off, trying to find the right word.

“Landlord?” he suggests through a humorless laugh. It makes your eyes soften at him.

“No, friend,” you decide.

“I just dumped a bunch of trauma on you and you wanna be my friend?” he asks, partly self-deprecating, partly hopeful.

“You don’t seem so bad,” you shrug.

“I guess we’ll see,” he says softly.

The rest of the night is lighter, mostly with you trying to figure out more things he likes as subtly as possible. He laughs when you come downstairs with the presents you’re saving until Christmas to open because he can tell Jun’s right away. You don’t tell him that you’ve already ordered half a dozen small things that’ll be at the house by Christmas Eve so that you can wrap them all up for him. You just want to see his face.

Two days before Christmas, you and Jihoon finish off the decorations and pick up groceries. Well, you’re the one who picks up groceries after insisting on splitting the bill. Jihoon has another mysterious errand that he has to run. Even though you really want to know, you decide to let him have his secrets. At least for now. You’re beginning to understand that he trusts you and he’ll tell you whatever it is when he’s ready, if it even has anything to do with you at all.

When the morning of Christmas Eve dawns, you’re actually excited. The past few days have been a whirlwind, and you’re definitely not done, but the house feels like Christmas. Three days ago you never would have thought Jihoon was enough to bring that holiday joy into the house. Now, you’re so insanely thankful that he’s gone above and beyond. Without anyone else around, or any other distractions, it’s been like a crash course in getting to know each other. There’s so much more to him than you ever realized.

The day passes in a haze of cooking, wrapping last minute presents, and laughter. Lots of laughter. You’ve heard Jihoon laugh more in the last couple days than in the entire time you’ve lived here. Not for the first time, you think it’s a wonderful sound and wish he’d laugh more. It’s easy to understand why he doesn’t, why he’s so guarded, but still. A person can dream.

With all the food prepped and the tree perfectly decorated, you decide it’s time to put your additional presents underneath. Jihoon huffs when you say you just got him a few small things you thought he’d like, before returning with a handful of presents for you. Every fiber of your being wants to give him shit over it. But, it’s Christmas, so you just call a truce instead. And light up like a kid when he suggests starting a fire in the fireplace.

“I’ll go make adult hot cocoa,” you tell him when he starts crumpling up old newspapers for the base of the fire.

“Adult hot cocoa?” he asks, face scrunched up like he’s adorably confused.

“Unless you just want the non-alcoholic version,” you offer.

“I’ll at least try it,” he concedes. His smile is soft when you squeal and run off to the kitchen.

By the time you’ve melted the chocolate (because who uses a premade mix in a kitchen this nice?), Jihoon has the fire going and is sitting on the couch. You’re about to ask why he’s scrolling his phone when he presses a button and Christmas music softly starts playing through the speakers. You hand over his mug and watch as he takes a sip. Even if he tries to hide it, you can tell he loves it and your smile is victorious. Probably why he tries to hide it.

You’re onto your second mug and asking Jihoon to find a blanket so that you can sit on the floor in front of the couch. It’s easier to stretch out closer to the fire. As is his way, he whines about how it’ll be too warm, even though you tell him he doesn’t have to sit with you. Still, he gets the blanket and plops down right next to you, so close that you’re almost touching. It only takes a couple minutes before he’s complaining that it’s really warm and then pulling off his sweatshirt. Your retort dies on your lips when you turn your head to the side and see the way the sweatshirt pulls his t-shirt up on the way. Or how muscular his arms look now that they’re exposed. You’re thankful that you look away before he catches you.

It’s quiet between the two of you as you watch the flames dance in the fireplace. There’s only comfort now, unlike a few days ago. That strikes you. Has it only been a few days since this man was something of a stranger to you? It almost feels like a lifetime ago. When you turn your head to him, you find he’s already looking at you.

“Can I admit something?” you ask.

“Course,” he says softly.

“I’m really glad I decided to stay here for Christmas,” you say, equally softly. You want to take a mental image of the smile that follows.

“Can I admit something, too?” he asks. You only nod. “I’m really glad you did too. This is the best Christmas I’ve had in years and it’s still only Christmas Eve.”

Before you can think better of it, you lean forward and kiss his cheek. Just for a second. Then you drop your head to his shoulder and let out a sigh. It’s the most content you’ve felt in a long time. Jihoon adjusts his arm, and you worry he doesn’t want your head on his shoulder, until he just moves it along the edge of the couch. It lets you lean against him easier, so you scoot a little closer and settle again. After another minute, he rests his head on top of yours. Without even seeming to realize it, his arm curls around your shoulder, holding you tight to him. It makes you acutely aware of his body next to yours. Moments ago, you were thinking that you could fall asleep like this. Now, you’re wide awake.

He must sense some kind of change because he pulls his head up. “Are you okay?”

His voice is so gentle, so full of concern. You wonder how he can sound so calm when your brain is overthinking everything. “Yeah, I just, I don’t know. Being close to you like this is really nice and not at all what I was expecting.”

Jihoon reaches out to tilt your chin up so that he can look you in the eyes. “It doesn’t have to be something you’re not expecting. It is nice to be close to you like this.”

That’s the other thing you can’t really believe has changed so much in a matter of days. This man is a walking contradiction in so many ways. Grumpy as a default, yet so incredibly soft. The most private person you’ve met, yet willing to share why he struggles with Christmas. Rough around the edges, yet also unfailingly kind. Constantly wearing oversized clothes, yet secretly really fit. Okay, maybe that’s not so much a contradiction as you checking him out.

“What if I was open to it being more than just being close?” you venture.

“How much is in your adult hot cocoa?” he asks, with some obvious difficulty.

“Enough to make me a little more honest, maybe, but not even enough to get buzzed on,” you answer.

“Then, I can say if you’re open to more than just being close, I really fucking want to kiss you,” he says. “I have all day.”

“Just all day?” you tease. He gives you an unimpressed look. “What are you waiting for?”

“You to say it’s okay,” he says and leans closer to you.

“It’s okay, Ji,” you whisper, lips already nearly touching.

You’re expecting a soft kiss, are as prepared for that as you can be. And it starts off relatively soft, like he’s testing the waters. It quickly morphs into anything, but soft. It’s the kind of kiss that sets your entire body on fire. The kind of kiss that steals your breath and becomes the only thing you need. It’s steady and desperate, all at the same time. You’re not even sure how your hands find their way into his hair that curls along his neck. It’s even softer than you imagined it would be.

“So, is this your move?” you ask, pulling away just long enough to catch your breath.

“What?” he asks. His lips are already a little swollen.

“Getting the fire going with a little music on in the background,” you tease.

“Trust me,” he begins, punctuating his words with featherlight kisses along your neck. “I’ve never gone to this much trouble for anyone and it definitely wasn’t to get here.”

The confession is so honest. So serious. It’s completely at odds with your teasing. But, should you really expect anything else from Jihoon? He can tease with the best of them, for sure. The last few days he’s also shown that you bring out an honesty that surprises him. You’re not sure if you trust yourself to speak, so you just pull his face up to kiss him again. It’s kind of an uncomfortable position, leaning against the couch, but you’re also not really sure if you care. That is, you’re not sure you care until he turns to pull you into his lap. It’s a little awkward and you have to break the kiss to get settled. Once you’re settled, though, it’s much nicer to be straddled across him like this. Much easier to press your chest into his and keep tangling your fingers in his hair. Much easier for him to wrap his arms around you like he doesn’t want you to go anywhere. You want to tell him that there’s nowhere else in the world you’d rather be.

As you kiss him, you let your hands wander down his arms. There’s a safety in being held by him. There’s a strength to him you really never realized, kind of quiet like he is, a little unassuming. The kind of strength that sneaks up on you when you’re not really expecting it. Not only does every part of your body respond to him, but your mind does too. It’s just safe. You’re not sure how you know, you just do. He’s the kind of person that you can really trust to see all of you and still accept you. It’s entirely too much to be feeling about someone this fast, so you push that aside. When you inch your bodies closer together, your core drags across him and sends an ache through you. You do it several more times, back and forth, craving that friction.

“Fuck,” he hisses out.

“I’m sorry, is that too much?” you worry. Suddenly a little self-conscious that there’s been some kind of miscommunication.

He grabs your chin and pulls you back to look into his eyes. “No. It’s never too much. I want whatever you’re willing to give me.”

“But, you don’t know what I’m…” you start. His eyes are serious, intense. You’re burning up and it has nothing to do with the fire.

“Whatever you’re willing to give me, I’ll happily take it. Even if that means it doesn’t go past this,” he reassures you.

“I think I want it all,” you whisper.

“You think you do, or you actually do?” he asks.

You study him for a moment, looking for signs that he’s going to hurry off or something. With one of his hands, he’s tracing patterns against your thigh through the material of your pants. Everything about him seems sincere. Everything seems steady.

“I do.”

It’s a different smile he gives you then, one that says he’s relieved, maybe even a little surprised. One that says he’s genuinely happy. But, most of all, one that says he just wants whatever the night turns into.

“Let’s go upstairs, I don’t want you hurting your knees like this,” he says softly.

You look over your shoulder at the fireplace and he follows your gaze. “We should…”

“I’ll take care of that, just go upstairs. To my room,” he says and you suppress a slight shudder at being told what to do. You kind of like that side of him. “Get comfortable, I’ll just be a minute.”

You get off his lap, quietly thankful for his consideration of your knees and kiss him softly. It’s also easy to see that he’s giving you a little bit of time to be sure. To clear your head away from the tree and the fire and the holiday everything. It’s time you don’t need because you’re definitely sure. The second you step foot through his door, you realize that you’ve never been in his bedroom before. It’s beautifully decorated in a way that screams him. When you sit down on the edge of the bed, you sigh. It’s so comfortable.

This part hasn’t ever been the easiest for you, the waiting for someone to come into the room and knowing what’s going to happen. But, you do know what’s happening and sitting there completely clothed seems silly. In the end, you settle for leaving your sleeveless shirt and underwear on, but taking everything else off, including your bra. You just have time to sit back against the bed when he walks through the door and closes it behind him. Force of habit, you assume, since there isn’t anyone else home. His eyes drink you in, scanning down your body and all your curves. It’s so immediately comfortable that you don’t have the urge to cover back up.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he utters and it makes you blush a little. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Not in a while when I’ve been this undressed,” you answer quietly with your head down.

You feel the bed dip and look up at him, sitting right in front of you. “That’s crazy. You’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever known.”

“You’re so sweet,” you say with a smile.

“It’s what you deserve,” he says and gets back off the bed.

It’s his turn to remove the layers, stopping when all he has are his boxer briefs. You fight back a gasp (and lose, as is evident by his smirk) when he takes off his shirt. What the fuck?

“Jihoon, what the fuck? Come here,” you request. He listens, but takes his time. When he’s within your reach, you run your fingers along his stomach. Trace each ab muscle like you can’t believe this is what’s been under the shirt the whole time.

“I work about a bit,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes.

“A bit, he says,” you tease back.

“Can I get in the bed now? Or do I have to stay here?” he asks.

“You can get in bed, but I want to be in your lap again,” you state.

“Fine by me,” he readily agrees.

There’s a weird sense of time with him. You could kiss him for hours, may just do that. It also feels like it’s only been seconds when you pull back to catch your breath. You delight in the way he hisses when you run your nails down his stomach. Yelp when he smacks your ass in response. But, it doesn’t stop you from doing it again, maybe just so you can get another smack. You tell him not to be too gentle with you and he groans. There’s still that little bit of clothing between you, though, and it’s hard to get the friction you need.

It’s like he senses what you want, or maybe what you need, and he positions you over one of his thighs. Helps you move back and forth to find a rhythm. It gives you that friction that you’ve been craving. He peppers kisses all over, trying to find the places that you like. Lingers wherever gets the best noises out of you. All while you grind against his thigh. When you think it can’t get better, he pulls your shirt up over your head and casts it aside. He rolls one of your nipples between his fingers. The look on his face when you arch into his fingers is so satisfied. It makes him carry on while also kissing across your chest.

“Fuck, Ji, if I keep this up I’m gonna come on your thigh,” you whimper.

“So do it,” he answers.

“I can’t, that’s…” you start, cutting off when he sucks hard into the skin of your breast. “Fuck!”

“That’s what?” he prompts, returning to your nipple.

“I can’t come just from this,” you mutter lamely. It makes you feel like a teenager.

“Then I better help because I want you to make a mess,” he says.

Before you can protest, he’s kissing you again. His thumb hooks into your underwear and rubs across your clit in time with you rocking. It’s too much all at once. Too much stimulation. Too close. Too different. It all works, though, because you’re coming undone in seconds. Making a mess of his thigh just like he wanted. Screaming out his name and thankful to know nobody else can hear you. You lean forward to rest your forehead against his, trying to steady your breathing.

“That was so hot,” he whispers into the limited space between you.

“I’ve never gotten off like that before,” you admit.

“I wonder if there’s anything else I can pull out of you for the first time,” he says.

“Like what?” you wonder.

“I guess we’ll see,” he answers

“I think it’s time for me to take care of you,” you say.

He kisses you gently and pulls away. “Not yet.”

“But,” you start, only to cut off when he flips the two of you over.

The shock over being completely manhandled by Jihoon is all you register until you feel his fingers by your hips, tugging your ruined underwear down your legs. All you can do is watch as he kisses from your ankle all the way up your inner thigh and down the other side. When he pulls himself back up your body to settle between your legs, you shiver. Try to play it off as his breath against your cunt, still slick. You watch as he spreads your lips open so that he can lick into you.

“Fuck, Ji,” you whine out.

“Just relax, sweetheart,” he urges before diving into you again.

You’re expecting it to be a little frenzied. Not that you’ve never enjoyed getting eaten out, but you just kind of see it as foreplay to get through. That was before Jihoon, apparently. He takes his time, carefully builds you up again. Has you begging for something more. Has you uttering phrases that don’t make any sense. Has you seeing stars in the darkness of the room. Has you feeling the loss when he removes his mouth.

“No, Ji, please,” you beg. “Your tongue feels so good.”

“I know,” he says and then he’s kissing you.

He keeps kissing you as he runs a finger through your wetness, once and then again. Keeps kissing you when he slides his finger inside of you. Nips at your lip when you moan at the addition of his second finger. You can feel how tightly you’re coiled from the build up with his tongue. The way he fucks his fingers into you, you know you won’t last long. It’s hard and fast and as desperate as you felt moments ago when you begged for him. He’s relentless, even when your walls grip his fingers and your toes start to curl. You come so hard on his finger that he actually has you squirting. And honestly, he’s got you blacking out a little bit too.

“Jesus fucking christ,” you curse when he falls beside you. “Your fingers, your mouth, oh my god.”

“I’d ask if it was good, but I think I know the answer,” he chuckles.

You swat at his chest, but he catches your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. So tender that it takes the bite out of your next statement. “Fuck off.”

“Your body is so amazing, I could watch you come every day and never get sick of it,” he admits.

You prop yourself up on an elbow to look at him. He’s laying on his back, hand casually running over his already hard dick through his briefs. You move his hand and free him. There’s a hunger in his gaze as he watches you spit into your hand and start running it along his shaft.

“Go slow,” he requests and you look at up at him. “Watching you is so hot that I’m a little wound up. And I still want to fuck you.”

“Jihoon, you’ve already…” you start.

“Please. You can take care of me anytime. I want to feel you around me,” he whispers. It’s not quite a beg, but it’s close. All you can do is nod okay. “I need to hear you.”

“Yes, Ji, I want you to fuck me,” you say.

He rolls over on the bed to reach into the bedside table and rustles around for a minute. The sign before he rolls back over sounds bad. “I don’t have a condom. It’s, uh, well it’s been awhile.”

“It’s okay,” you say.

“I guess maybe this will have to…” he starts.

“No, I mean it’s fine. I’m on birth control and it’s been awhile for me too, so it’s fine. I trust you,” you say, finding you do actually trust him.

“Are you sure?” he checks.

“Fuck, yes, please. I don’t care that you’ve made me come twice already, please fuck me,” you insist and it works. He smiles and slides his briefs off.

In another second, he’s positioning himself between your legs again. You lay back against the pillow behind your head and just look up at him, so impossibly fond. It’s too soon to be this fond. But, you see the same look in his eyes, so maybe you’re not alone. He lines himself up and drags his tip against your entrance. Opens the lube you hadn’t even noticed and takes it into his hand. He lets it warm up for a second before running his hand over his dick. Then, he’s back at your entrance and slowly pressing into you. He takes his time letting you adjust, watches your face for signs that it’s okay. He leans forward to kiss you and it’s so gentle you want to cry.

You’re glad this is slow, that he’s taking his time. It’s not that you’re inexperienced, it’s just that you can’t remember the last time you felt this comfortable with anyone. You’re not sure you’ve ever known how nice it was to just look into someone’s eyes while you’re fucking. Not sure you’ve wanted to be this close. Jihoon’s body is pressed against yours as he thrusts into you, but it’s still not enough. You wrap your legs around his hips, run your fingers down his back, arch into him. Anything to meld your bodies together that much more. He’s not as vocal now, but you’re probably taking care of that for both of you. You can see all the things he wants to say in the eyes that stay trained on you.

His thrusts start to get a little off rhythm and your moans become more broken. “Fuck, Ji, yes! Right there.”

“I’m gonna fucking come, oh my god,” he moans out.

“Me too,” you whine. “Fuck, it’s too much.”

“Come for me, please, I need to feel you,” he very nearly begs.

“Fuck, I’m coming!” you scream out.

Your whole body shudders and you sort of register the praise coming from Jihoon. He follows right behind you, releasing into you. You can tell he’s trying to keep his weight off of you, but you pull him to just let go. Reluctantly, he settles his body down on top of yours. The weight is pleasant and being close to him is even better. After a moment, his breathing falls into line with yours. It’s several moments longer before he carefully pulls out of you and rolls to the side.

“Wow,” he says. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah,” you agree.

It’s much later than usual for you by the time you wake up on Christmas morning. But, it had been late by the time you and Jihoon had gotten cleaned up and back in bed. Even later by the time you stopped wanting to talk while all cuddled up. When you wake up, you feel his chest pressed into your back and his arm draped across your body. The second you start to move, his arm tightens and he somehow pulls you closer to him. He presses kiss into your hair.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, voice thick with sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” you answer.

He adjusts behind you and you realize he’s a little hard again, pressing into your ass. Even though you know it’s not fair, you wiggle your ass against him. You’re more than a little surprised when he bucks, just once, into you in response.

“Sorry, I’m sure you’re a little sore this morning,” he says, still hoarse.

“Not so sore,” you answer, pressing back again.

“Don’t you want to see what’s under the tree?” he asks, the teasing clear in his voice.

You turn over so you’re facing him. “I think I’d rather unwrap this present first.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he groans. But, he pulls you against him all the same, clearly not opposed.

Once you’re both showered again and dressed, you pad downstairs and straight into the kitchen to find Jihoon is already at the counter getting the coffee going. He looks so cute with his messy, wet hair, that you can’t help yourself. You have to come up and hug him from behind. Place a kiss between his shoulder blades and then rest your head. All he can do is just put a hand over yours.

“What do you want for breakfast?” you ask when you pull away.

“The cinnamon rolls you insisted we had to have,” he says like it’s obvious.

By the time you get those in the oven, he’s handing you a perfect cup of coffee, exactly the way you like it. It feels like neither of you can be physically separated. Hands finding each other as you move around the kitchen. Little kisses as you pass by. Just drawn together like magnets. Once the cinnamon rolls come out, and you add the extra icing that you insisted on, the two of you head to the living room.

You think you were supposed to text or call Jun when you open his present, but you’re a little stuck on opening the things Jihoon got you at the last minute. He insists that you go first and open your presents so that he can see your reaction. The first couple are silly, but thoughtful. Just little things that show he’s actually been paying attention to you much longer than you realized. Not that he had some kind of crush or anything, just that he pays attention when people talk. When you think you’re done, he pulls out a small box.

“I wanted you to open this last,” he says in response to your confused look.

It’s a small box, very nicely wrapped. You open it to find a beautiful necklace, simple and stunning. Exactly the kind of thing you like to wear. But, exactly the type of thing you can’t accept. “JIhoon, it’s beautiful. But, you must know it’s too much. I can’t take this.”

“I didn’t spend anything on it,” he assures you and slides closer so he can look down at it in the box. “It was my grandmother’s. And before you say you can’t take it again, she’d want someone to have it. She wanted to pass her jewelry on, but was so sick of our family. I think she’d really like you, so I want you to have it.”

“Thank you,” you say softly and lean forward to kiss him.

Watching Jihoon open the little things that you got him is everything you hoped it would be. He’s so appreciative of each thing, even if they seem small to you. They’re all things he says he really needs. To him, that’s one of the best kinds of gifts because it shows that you’re listening. It shows that you want to make someone else’s life just a little easier. It nearly makes you emotional when he’s the one opening things.

You want to stay curled up on the couch with Jihoon forever, watching stupid Christmas movies and invading his personal space. He grumbles a little at you clinging to him, but pouts the second you pull away. Sadly, you have to get up to start some of the cooking for Christmas dinner. Jihoon offers to help, knows you’re feeling a little sore, and you wave him off. Cooking at Christmas is one of your favorite things. You get your music going and don’t even register anything else. You don’t hear his footsteps or his voice talking to someone.

“Hey, Ji? Do you think I should make all the rolls? Probably, right?” you ask and turn around to see he’s standing in the doorway holding his phone up.

“Did my bestie just call you Ji?” a voice asks from the phone.

“Uh, yeah,” Jihoon answers and closes the distance to you. He hands over the phone. “Jun was looking for you.”

“Oh, hi, Junie! How’s your parents’?” you ask. His eyes scan you and you look down too late. You’re not wearing your shirt, it’s one of Jihoon’s that you stole because it was more comfortable.

“Not as good as it is there, apparently,” Jun says with a giggle.

“Oh, well, you see…” you start and Jun is cackling.

“I’ll let you get back to cooking, but expect to have a long conversation when I’m home,” he says once he stops laughing.

“You sound like my parent,” you whine.

“Just try and tell me there’s nothing to talk about,” Jun challenges and you look over at Jihoon sitting at the kitchen table.

“I can’t,” you say, still looking at him.

“I knew it,” Jun says, triumphant. “Give the phone back to Ji…”

“You don’t get to call me that,” Jihoon chimes in.

“So much to talk about,” Jun repeats as you hand the phone back over.

The rest of the afternoon passes too quickly. Jihoon stays in the kitchen with you when you have to cook and lounges on the couch with you watching movies when you’re waiting for things to finish. He helps wherever he can and genuinely seems to appreciate the effort that you’re taking. Well, he appreciates it almost as much as the dinner itself when you sit down to eat. Without question, it’s the best Christmas you can remember. It turns out that maybe you were right all along. Christmas wasn’t about presents or specific people or anything. It was about feeling joy and thankful and just a deep connection with whoever you were with. It makes you realize you do need to talk to Jihoon, though.

After dinner, the two of you settle back on the couch with a glass of wine. His free hand traces patterns into your legs that are across his lap. “Hey, so about what Jun said…”

“Jun is an idiot,” Jihoon brushes off.

“He is, but he also has a point. There’a a lot to talk about,” you say. He turns his head to look at you.

“I meant what I said last night, I’ll take whatever you want to give me,” he says and takes another sip of wine.

“But, that’s so…I don’t know,” you start, searching for the words.

He just shrugs like you’re talking about something so simple. Maybe you are. “I’m pretty open about things when I’m comfortable. I’m also kind of an all in or all out guy. I don’t know, that’s probably too much. I’m happy with whatever you’re comfortable giving me.”

“You’re going to make me fall for you, Lee Jihoon,” you tease lightly. You’re also testing a little bit.

He smiles at you, that soft one that makes his eyes crinkle. “That doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

“I guess it doesn’t,” you agree.

“Thank you for being the best thing about Christmas in a long time,” he says. So honest. It’s so simple, too.

“It’s been perfect,” you agree. “The only thing that could make it better is…”

“Snow,” he interrupts.

“Yeah,” you agree.

He shakes his head and points to the window. “No, it’s snowing.”

You turn your head to follow his finger and see he’s right. Snow falls in light, beautiful swirls just outside the window. You can’t remember the last white Christmas you had, even living somewhere it snows.

“Wow, this really is the perfect Christmas,” you whisper.

i hope you liked it. please reblog or leave a comment to let me know your thoughts 💕

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