based on this request: anon i really hope you found this, wrote this just for you :`(
(please message me in the asks if you found this<3)
18+ mdni
cw: fem reader, lots of draco being a good ol' closeted softie for reader, smutsmutsmut, virgin!reader, mentions of bullying (not from draco) and daddy issues (it's a draco fic that itself is a daddy issues warning) oral sex (fem receiving) (draco loves to eat pussy) unprotected sex, creampie.
word count: 2.5k (i got carried away)
He'd always been told that caring about things, about people was supposed to be beneath him. That it's not what Malfoys do. That sort of thing belongs to the muggle born and the weak.
But what's taught is not instinct. Instinct cannot be controlled. It comes from within.
It's strange how caring for someone made him feel akin to a predator staying true to it's instincts.
He didn't even know you properly. You kept to yourself mostly and when you didn't you'd be with Potter, Granger and Weasel.
All the more reason for him to hate you. To not care.
And yet when he'd stumbled upon his own people picking on you, he'd halted. He'd felt something. It wasn't uncommon for pure bloods to pick on people like you. And yet it lit a gnarly fury in him and he'd struck one of his own.
Something his father had practically bit his ears off with rambles of “disgraceful behavior,” “betrayal to house unity,” “violence is common and beneath them” and how “Malfoy's don't get their hands dirty without a true purpose.”
But still not a single part of him regretted it.
Because you'd looked at him. Not with disgust, not with fury, not with annoyance.
With gratefulness. With admiration. And that alone was worth any scolding from his father.
You went to find him later, outside the Slytherin common room at night while he was walking around. Risky business. You hated being around his house. So the fact that you were here meant something.
You waited for him to come back from his walk and sure enough he appeared as though the shadows spat him right out to you.
He'd stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you. Confused, his guard goes straight up. He couldn't help it, it was a defense mechanism.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, interrogating. You'd have missed the soft undertone if you weren't staring in his eyes.
Eyes don't lie.
Your heart beat is unmistakably fast and, your stomach flutters. You genuinely don't know how to talk to him but you try anyway.
“I wanted to... thank you. For earlier. You didn't have to do that. I–” you paused, choosing your next words careful, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. “I know it must've gotten you in trouble with– with your–” you pause again when you see his breath hitch slightly.
Again, you would've missed it if you weren't standing so close.
“Father.” he finished it for you. “You need not concern yourself with that. It's an usual thing for me.” he says, tone sharp and defensive but not unkind.
He cleared his throat, “Besides, they were being idiots.” he offered, now more gently.
You were not an idiot. Nor were you oblivious. You knew Draco Malfoy didn't really care about bullying or morality. Not much anyway. He knew he did that because he wanted to. Because he cared. For you.
Only thing that seemed to baffle you and throw you off was the why.
Why did this pure-blood boy who cared for no one, care for you? You did not know. And it seemed, neither did he.
But that marked the beginning of something tender. Something special.
From many unprompted meetings in the library where y'all talked, or rather you talked while he listened or offered remarks and sarcasm; to secret, planned meetings and rendezvous in your respective common rooms or the room of requirement when y'all really craved that quiet, soft intimate time.
It would transform into something you both considered a safe space. To talk, to share.
The first kiss happened three weeks later, in the very room of requirement when it appeared as a small, firelit room with one bed. You’d both been hiding after curfew; the door sealed behind you and suddenly it was just the two of you, breathing the same air.
Both of you just knew what was coming. Instinct. And he'd looked... troubled. Nervous, even.
He'd spoken your name with such tenderness, warmth flooded you like summer.
“I'm not good at being gentle.” he'd admitted, letting you in on his thoughts.
You offered him a small smile, “It's okay. I can help you learn.” you soothed.
His hand found it's way to your face, thumb grazing your jaw before he pulled you in.
Your mouths met in unison and he kissed you like he was scared you'd vanish. Like you were made of glass. You discovered you didn't want him to be too gentle so you took the initiative to deepen the kiss. As best as you could.
He licked the inside of your mouth and let out a soft moan, surprising himself.
It did something to you.
Again, you were not oblivious. You knew where this was leading. And as much as it made you feel nervous, you craved it.
You craved it when his hand gently wandered over your back, fingers grazing the clasp of your bra.
You pulled away from the kiss to lean your forehead against his. Catching your breath, you whispered, “Draco.. I- I’ve never...” you confessed.
He halted his hand, and brought it back to your face to caress you, “Never?” he repeated softly.
You shook your head.
He swallowed and nodded, “Do you want to?” he asked
“Yes.” you answered instantly and he let out a low chuckle at your eagerness. Your cheeks warmed at the realisation.
His mouth found yours again before either of you spoke. The kiss was deeper now, hungrier, but still careful. And you grew bolder by the second as you tugged on his tie. He let you pull it free and then unbutton his shirt.
You pulled away from the kiss once again; this time to stare at his pale, smooth beautiful skin. Your fingertips followed a trail down from his chest, to his abs, to his stomach. You halted right above his belt buckle. Eyes immediately finding his in hesitance, and what you saw sent a shiver down your spine.
Draco was already looking at you like he was starving. Leaning back on both of his hands, fingers digging into the soft mattress as if he had to physically restrain himself from grabbing you and touching you.
“Do it.” he whispered.
But, instead of unbuckling him you retreat your hand to your own shirt. His breath hitches in anticipation. Biting your lip, not breaking eye contact once as you move down the buttons of your blouse until you bare your breasts to him. Soft, clad in a black cotton bra.
“Fuck– beautiful.” he whispers.
You leave the shirt still on for him to take off and he reaches forward to slip it off your shoulders with trembling fingers.
“Lie back.”
You did. Your warm spine hit the cool sheets with a soft thud. He kissed down your throat to your chest in slow open mouthed presses that made you dizzy.
When he finally reached your bra, he looked up at you and asked. “May I?”
You took a deep, fortifying breath before nodding and arching your back enough so he could reach behind and unclasp. The bra loosened and he slipped it off with a gasp.
“You– you don't need to ask. Do whatever you want to me.” you say and you can't see it, nor can you feel it but you just know Instinctually that he twitches in his pants when, “Fuck.” he groans.
“Don't say it like that.” he warns, although it's not much of a warning. More like pleading. “You don't know what it does to me.” he says.
“What does it do to you, Draco?” you quip, breathless.
And he grabs your hips gently and finally presses himself into you to show you. Clothed core to clothed core.
But you can feel him. Hard, wanting and pleading against you. You gasp, harsh, surprised. “Ohmygod.” you whisper, fingers digging into his half- bare, half-clothed shoulder.
His mouth curves into a smirk which is vanished as quickly as it comes on when you experimentally grind your hips into his to feel more of him and he groans. Faltering, and dropping down to his elbows, placed at each side of your head, forehead falling to yours.
You moan into his neck with how good the brush of his cock felt against you.
“Draco, please.” you finally beg, no longer able to hold back.
He knows exactly what you're asking for, however, It's your first time and he wants it to be perfect for you. He always was a sucker for perfectionism.
He nods at you before moving down, between your legs. One arm going under your thigh to hold it while his free hand reached under your skirt to take off your panties.
The cool air hit your wet core and did the engulfing warmth of Draco's mouth all at once.
It was a surprise to you. One that left you breathless and arching and writhing against his mouth. He mouthed at your slick folds before settling on your clit to suck. Blinding your senses until you were a solid mess of whines and whimpers and cries.
He wanted to make sure you were prepped and ready to take him.
It didn't take long for him to make you orgasm for the first time with how turned on you already were. He'd reached up to touch and tease your nipples with a free hand all while he sucked and lapped at your slick folds, humming in content.
Him touching your nipples, sucking on your clit and the vibrations against you all felt like sensory deprivation and it threw you off the edge instantly.
You clenched your thighs around his head and with a loud cry of his name, you came. Arching off the bed, helplessly, uncontrollably. You could sob with how good it felt. And you couldn't help the grind of your hips, riding out that sweet, delicious, Malfoy induced bliss.
And with the way Draco's fingers dug into your thighs– hard enough to leave bruises later on, it was so obvious that Draco Malfoy enjoyed eating you out. And that was an understatement.
He kept going even after you came and that was a whole different kind of pleasure. You had to literally sob out and beg him to stop or else you were sure you'd squirt all over.
With trembling hands you reached for him to come up and he did with a self satisfied grin on his face, he held onto you. Your arms wrapped around his neck like you needed him. And you did.
Once again, you begged. “Draco, please. I need you. I'm– I'm ready.” that was your sweet, sweet way of asking him to fuck you.
And in all honesty he was sure he couldn't wait any longer either. His cock was hard and fighting against his trousers to be freed.
“Free me, my love. I want you to do it.” he asks, still breathless from earlier.
You wasted no time and fumble to unbuckle him and he could almost chuckle at how endearing he found your need if he wasn't in the same desperate, pathetic state of mind.
The cool air hit his cock as it was finally free and you gazed at it in wonder. You bit your lip in want and anticipation before staring back at him in a, ‘how the hell is that gonna fit in me’ way and in a ‘i need you right now’ way.
He pressed himself, bare, against you. Hard, hot, dragging the length of him against your slick folds.
He let out the filthiest, sweetest groan at the contact along with you.
“Tell me again. Tell me you want this.” he pleaded.
“I want this.” you whispered, “I want you– I want you– I want y–” he shushed your babble by slowly easing into you. Just the tip to start.
Your fingernails dug into his shoulders, etching crescents into his skin. “Please, more.” you begged for more than you knew you could handle.
He complied to your pleads and slowly pushed in. “Breathe with me, my love.” he said as he saw your breath hitch.
He waited. He kissed you across the face, on the base of your neck, atop your breasts and cooed at you gently when you whined at the painful, beautiful stretch.
He waited, until your breathing matched his. Until you gave him the green light to finally push another inch in, slowly, watchfully.
When he was fully seated in, he stayed buried, waiting once more to let you adjust fully. It was not easy on him either. Your warm, wet tightness was making it especially hard on him to hold back. He was literally trembling against you.
Once the sharpness faded, you, ever the curious little dove, rocked experimentally to see how both of you would feel and react to that.
You, for one buried your head into his neck, needy, squirming against his skin.
He, let out a broken sound before finally giving into shallow, careful little thrusts. Like instinct, your legs wrapped around his slender waist, urging him to go deeper, faster.
He was more than happy to oblige, he did not go faster but he did go deeper with a particular sinful roll of his hips. His pelvis grazed against your clit during the motion and had you crying out. You were especially sensitive there.
You were also trying to be quiet but he was having none of that as he reached between your thighs to circle your most sensitive area.
“Don't you dare silence yourself. Let me hear you. Let me look at you.” he breathed the words into the air, low, commanding.
And you obeyed. Your back arched off the bed and your hips rolled deeper into his as you no longer could contain your cries.
His thrusts now fastened, as did the movement of his hand. Wanting to pull you over the edge one last time before he himself did.
“Let go for me, love. Want to feel you, one more time.” he breathed in desperation, his voice not seemingly like his own at this point.
He was unmistakably, yours, in this very moment.
You shattered finally when he rubbed your clit just right and hit that sweet spot within you. Clenching hard around him, offering little rolls of your hips, kissing down his pale chest, fingers running through the mop of his white hair.
And he finally followed with a wrecked, riveting groan. His hips did not stutter– they snapped harder, faster. Like they're aimed to destroy you and fill you with love all at once.
He buried himself to a halt inside of you, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix as he finally spilled inside you. “Gods. You'll be the death of me.” he cried, face buried in your neck. Arms snug around your waist, holding you onto him.
You squirmed and whined like you wanted to be in his skin and he cooed at you in between his aftershocks.
“I'm still here, love.” he whispers. “I'm still here.”
“I'm not good at being gentle.” he'd told you and perhaps it was true. But he knew how to follow his instincts. And his primary instinct was to be gentle towards you.
Magical Rivals with a Hidden Crush Character: Draco Malfoy x Y/N Draco and Y/N always clash in class—sarcastic comments, magical duels, constant competition. But behind the rivalry, Draco’s hiding a huge crush. He acts annoyed but secretly watches out for Y/N, gets jealous when others get close, and one day finally blurts out, “Merlin, do you ever stop being perfect?
I hope you like it ~ ♡
Do You Ever Stop Being Perfect? .｡*･ﾟﾟ
Summary: You and Draco Malfoy have clashed since first year—bickering, bantering, always trying to one-up each other in class. But what you don’t know is that behind Draco’s sarcasm and eye-rolls hides a very real, very overwhelming crush. And it’s only a matter of time before it boils over.
draco malfoy x f!reader
You were his favorite headache.
That’s what Draco told himself every time you raised your hand in class just a second faster than him. Every time you rolled your eyes at his sarcastic comments. Every time you challenged him to a duel during practice or muttered something clever under your breath when he passed by.
He hated you.
Except, of course, he didn’t. Not even a little.
He just liked to pretend he did. Because it was easier to scowl than to stammer. Easier to tease than confess. Easier to pretend that the twist in his stomach whenever you laughed was irritation and not the stupid butterflies that had been fluttering since third year.
You weren’t exactly innocent either. You loved getting under his skin. There was something satisfying about the way his jaw clenched every time you corrected him, something thrilling about the fire in his eyes when you beat him at a charm. You couldn’t explain it. You just knew it felt fun. Like a game only the two of you knew the rules to.
And the rest of the school? They were watching.
“Are you two ever not fighting?” Blaise asked one day in the common room, raising a brow as you flounced past Draco, accidentally-on-purpose knocking his books off the couch.
“No,” you said at the same time Draco said, “She started it.”
You grinned. “Only because you’re so easy to provoke, Malfoy.”
His eyes narrowed. “One day, Y/N, I’m going to hex that smug little smile off your face.”
You blew him a kiss. “You’d miss it too much.”
Blaise groaned. “This is exhausting. Just snog and get it over with.”
You choked on a laugh. Draco went silent. Dead silent. His ears turned pink.
He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "in your dreams" and stalked off toward the stairs, muttering about needing to study.
It wasn’t just class. It was everywhere. The tension followed you like a magnetic storm. In the library, you argued over table space. In the hallway, he bumped your shoulder every time you passed. At meals, you tried to out-snark each other with passive-aggressive comments about the food, your grades, your friends—nothing was off limits.
You didn’t know when it shifted. Maybe it was during that one rainy afternoon when you were stuck in detention with him for arguing mid-transfiguration. You’d thought it would be another shouting match, but instead, he sat next to you in silence, watching the rain hit the window.
“I like the quiet,” you murmured without looking at him.
He nodded. “Me too.”
You didn’t say anything else, but when Filch finally let you leave, you both hesitated in the hallway.
“I don’t actually hate you, you know,” you said softly.
Draco stared at you for a second too long. “Good.”
After that, things changed—but only a little. He was still sarcastic. You were still sharp. But the heat was different now.
He started watching you in class. Not in a creepy way, just... attentive. You caught him more than once glancing your way when you were focused on your work, a slight crease between his brows like he was trying to figure you out.
When you flirted with a Hufflepuff boy during Care of Magical Creatures, he snapped at you afterward for “embarrassing the House,” but you saw the flicker of jealousy in his face. The way his fists clenched. The way he avoided your eyes for the rest of the day.
And you? You liked it more than you should’ve.
You pushed it further. More compliments to other boys. More laughter at jokes he didn’t tell. He grew more sour. More quiet. More broody.
Until one day, it broke.
You were paired up in Potions (again—thanks Snape), and you were squabbling about ingredient order.
“Maybe if you actually followed instructions, Malfoy, we wouldn’t keep exploding cauldrons.”
“Maybe if you weren’t so infuriatingly perfect all the bloody time, I wouldn’t be distracted!”
You blinked. “What?”
He froze.
Oh.
His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.
“Forget I said that,” he mumbled, turning back to the cauldron with flushed cheeks.
You smirked. “Distracted by what, exactly?”
He didn’t answer. He just shoved a pinch of lacewing flies into the brew a little too aggressively.
Later that night, you found him in the Astronomy Tower, leaning on the railing, staring at the sky.
“You can’t just say things like that in the middle of Potions class,” you said.
He didn’t turn around. “It was an accident.”
“But it wasn’t a lie.”
Silence.
You walked to stand beside him. The stars were faint tonight, but the moon was bold and bright, casting light over his pale hair.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he muttered, voice low. “With you. I’m not good at... emotions. Or feelings. Or whatever this bloody thing is.”
You leaned on the railing next to him, shoulder brushing his. “Me neither.”
He glanced at you. You were close. Too close. You didn’t move.
He sighed. “You’re brilliant. And annoying. And smarter than me. And Merlin, do you ever stop being perfect?”
You laughed. “No. It’s a curse.”
That made him smile. Really smile.
“I like you,” you said. Simple. Honest.
He looked at you like he didn’t deserve it. “Even though I’ve been a git for years?”
“Especially because of that,” you teased. “It’s part of your charm.”
He turned toward you fully, and before you could think too much, his hand found yours. Just a brush of fingers. Nothing more.
But it was enough.
“I still want to beat you in every class,” he said.
You grinned. “Good. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
And then, finally, finally, he leaned in and kissed you—soft and tentative, like he wasn’t sure you’d let him.
✧.* : D.M x childhood friend(?)! Reader
✎ : A love bloomed over time. A childhood of misguided feelings, two witty Slytherins and years of pent up tension. Could she love the one she grew to dislike the most?
𖦹 : 5.7k
A/N: literally obsessed. I got a request for childhood friends family acquaintances and took it in stride. Im going to start tagging folks for their requests and i hope that's alright! I want to make sure that you get notifieid even faster when your post goes up
Requested: @ashdreams2023
[masterlist]
Much Love, Saige
ϟ taglist ϟ : @littlemadamred @falsedivide @damagedbreign
The first time you met Draco Malfoy, he was holding a toy broomstick like it was the crown jewel of the wizarding world.
You were six, and he was nearly seven. Your parents had just arrived at Malfoy Manor for yet another social visit — more of a performance, really. Every week, it seemed, they found some excuse to come grovel before Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. You were merely the accessory child, dressed in your finest; hair brushed so tightly back your scalp ached, robes stiff with starch, and a smile trained like a charm that never quite reached your eyes.
“Go on, darling,” your mother whispered with a sharp nudge. “Play with Draco.”
You obeyed, because obedience was your safest weapon in a world ruled by image and influence. But you didn’t want to play. Not with him.
Draco was everything you weren’t allowed to be; loud, bossy, and adored for it. He had this smug grin on his face as he zipped around the wide, manicured lawn, casting shadows against the ivory walls of the estate. You stood still in the grass, shoes polished and heavy, arms folded tightly across your chest.
“You don’t fly?” he asked, hovering near you with a practiced ease. There wasn’t judgment in his voice, just curiosity, the kind that felt more like a poke in the ribs than an invitation.
“I’m not allowed,” you answered simply.
That seemed to throw him. “Why?”
Because flying’s a reward. And rewards are for perfect little puppets who never raise their voices or speak out of turn.
“My parents don’t want me to get hurt.”
Draco tilted his head, blond hair catching the sun like spun silver. “Mine said it builds character.” He landed beside you, broom in hand. “Want to try mine?”
You glanced over to the terrace where your mother and Narcissa sipped tea. Your mother gave you a tight, warning smile — like she was begging you to be impressive, just this once.
So you nodded, stepping forward like a girl walking a plank.
Draco grinned like he’d won something. “Here,” he said, holding it out with both hands. “Just don’t crash it. Father hates scuffs.”
It was the first of many times Draco would offer you something shiny and be baffled when you didn’t seem grateful.
That was the thing about being raised near the Malfoys. You weren’t one of them… but you orbited them, expected to glow in their reflected light. You were the well-mannered daughter of the family desperate to be accepted, constantly praised for being quiet and polite, but never quite enough.
And Draco? He was the sun.
People turned to watch him wherever he went. You watched too, of course, but not in awe. Not even in admiration.
In resentment.
It wasn’t that Draco was cruel to you. In fact, he was oddly attentive. When your mothers met up for tea, he’d find his way to you. When your fathers discussed Ministry gossip and bloodline purity, he’d tug you away to explore the estate. When the grownups praised his accomplishments, he’d glance sideways — at you, as if waiting for your reaction.
You never gave him one.
He didn’t understand it; why the girl who was always there never seemed impressed.
You didn’t understand either; why he cared so much.
One summer afternoon, you were perched in the Malfoy library with a book twice your size, legs dangling off the edge of a velvet chair. Draco entered noisily, holding a box of Sugar Quills like a trophy.
“Want one?” he offered, shaking the box in your direction.
“No,” you said without looking up.
He blinked. “They’re the good ones. The kind Mother gets from France.”
“I said no.”
He hovered by your chair like a confused puppy, then sat cross-legged on the carpet beside you. “You’re always reading.”
You finally lowered the book. “And you’re always interrupting.”
That earned you a scowl, but only for a second. Then he tilted his head. “You’re mean sometimes.”
You shrugged. “You’re spoiled all the time.”
The room went quiet, the way it only did when two pureblood children were honest without permission.
Draco didn’t retaliate, which surprised you. He just studied you with narrowed eyes and murmured, “You don’t like me very much, do you?”
You didn’t answer. Not directly. You turned back to your book and said softly, “You don’t have to be liked to be noticed.”
And Draco Malfoy noticed you. More than you wanted. More than you admitted.
——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——
You had never been more relieved to leave a place than you were when the Hogwarts Express pulled out of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
The Manor, the expectations, the dull tea visits with Narcissa, the tight-lipped smiles from your mother as she reminded you for the hundredth time to speak eloquently, smile when spoken to, and don’t slouch, all of it faded as the train took off toward something bigger.
And maybe, just maybe, you could be someone other than her, the girl who existed in Draco Malfoy’s shadow.
But of course, he found you within ten minutes of boarding.
“There you are,” he said, stepping into your compartment like he owned it. “I thought you'd be in with the others.”
You didn’t bother to ask who "the others" were. Probably Blaise, maybe Nott, maybe that idiot Crabbe already elbow-deep in sweets. All of them orbiting Draco like bees to honey.
“I’m fine here,” you replied, eyes fixed out the window, forehead gently pressed to the cool glass.
Draco stood in the doorway longer than necessary before sliding the door shut behind him and sitting across from you.
You glanced at him briefly. His robes were perfectly fitted, his silver-trimmed trunks polished and pristine. Of course they were.
“Excited?” he asked.
You shrugged. “It’s school.”
“It’s Hogwarts,” he corrected. “It’s not just school. It’s where our names matter. Where things start.”
You turned back to the window. “Some of us would rather just learn something.”
Draco scoffed. “You sound like Granger. You haven’t even met her yet, and I can already tell you’d get along.”
You didn’t know who Granger was, but you filed away the insult.
Draco stayed in your compartment until lunch. He talked almost the entire time—about the castle, about Quidditch, about his father’s connections. You answered when necessary but never offered anything personal. It wasn’t just that he talked too much, it was that he always seemed to be performing. Like even here, before the term started, he was trying to impress you.
You weren’t sure why he bothered. He already had the rest of the world.
——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——
You sat next to him at the Slytherin table during the Sorting. Of course you were both Sorted there; pureblood pedigree all but ensured it.
When the Sorting Hat had dropped over your head, it only took seconds.
Slytherin, it had hissed in your ear. Oh yes. Clever. Observant. Not fond of playing second fiddle, are you? Yes… you know what you want, even if you won’t admit it yet.
You opened your eyes to see Draco watching you, almost smugly, like your placement was some kind of victory.
As if you belonged to him now.
You sat beside him only because it was the easiest option. But still, you noticed how his shoulder bumped yours slightly as he leaned to talk to Blaise. You noticed how he turned his attention back to you between bites, trying to get your opinion on every little thing, the food, the ceiling charm, the Gryffindors.
“You think Potter’s going to be in our year?” he asked, eyes sharp.
You blinked. “Potter?”
Draco nodded. “Harry Potter. He’s supposed to be starting this year too. My father says—”
“Your father says a lot of things,” you murmured into your goblet.
His brow furrowed, but he didn’t argue. He just watched you with that same unreadable look, like he was trying to figure out where the wall between you was hiding.
——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——
Classes began. And so did the whispers.
You weren’t best in class, but you were never far behind. You noticed how Draco’s eyes followed you during Potions when you corrected a misstep in the instructions. You noticed how his lips curled downward when you answered questions before he could.
He was clever — sharper than he let most people see — but he hated losing. Especially to you.
And yet, he still waited for you outside History of Magic. Still left a spot beside him in the common room. Still pretended not to glance over when you laughed at something Blaise said instead.
One evening, late September, you found yourself alone in the common room reading by the fire. Everyone else had gone to bed. Except for Draco, who emerged from the stairwell and froze at the sight of you.
“I thought you’d be asleep,” he said, rubbing at one eye.
“I thought you’d be with Crabbe and Goyle snoring up the dormitory.”
He ignored your jab and sat across from you.
The firelight softened the angles of his face. For once, he wasn’t talking. Just… watching you.
“You don’t like me much,” he said finally.
The silence broke like glass.
You looked up slowly. “You’ve said that before.”
“Because it’s still true.”
You closed your book. “Why does it bother you so much?”
He didn’t answer right away. Just leaned forward, elbows on his knees, brows pulled together.
“Because,” he said softly, “you’re the only person who doesn’t pretend around me.”
You stared at him, unsure what you were supposed to say. And maybe he didn’t expect you to say anything at all.
He stood up, glanced toward the dormitory, then back at you. “Goodnight.”
When he disappeared up the stairs, you realized your heart was beating just a bit faster than it had before.
You hated that.
——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——
By third year, you’d mastered the art of ignoring Draco Malfoy.
He had grown taller. His voice deeper, smoother, his presence sharper, like a dagger disguised in silk. But he was still Draco, still arrogant, still entitled, still obsessed with being the loudest in the room.
And still, somehow, obsessed with you.
He wouldn’t admit it, of course, not openly. That would mean admitting you got under his skin, and Draco Malfoy didn’t do vulnerability. Instead, it came out in snide remarks when you spoke to other boys, in his voice rising slightly when he noticed you laughing with someone else, in the way he always ended up sitting near you in shared classes, like proximity might win what effort hadn’t.
You’d never said the words out loud, not even to yourself, but part of you knew. He liked you.
And you hated that it made your chest feel warm.
——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——
It started again in Care of Magical Creatures.
Hagrid had just introduced you all to hippogriffs, and your group of Slytherins stood at a distance, watching the creature paw at the earth with dangerous grace. You stood with Pansy, arms crossed, only half-listening.
“Malfoy, why don’t you step up first?” Hagrid asked.
Draco smirked, brushing invisible dust off his robes. “Sure. Looks easy enough.”
You rolled your eyes. “You should bow first, you idiot.”
He turned his head, eyes narrowing. “Thanks, professor.”
You gave him a lazy smile. “Just don’t get mauled. I’d hate to lose the entertainment.”
Pansy snorted beside you. Draco’s expression twitched, but he bowed, eyes flicking back to you as the hippogriff assessed him.
When it bowed in return and allowed him to approach, you saw the triumphant glance he threw your way before he climbed on. Like everything he did had to be for your benefit.
Later, when you stepped forward and the hippogriff bowed to you even quicker than it had to him, Draco made a sound under his breath.
“You’re just jealous,” you said without turning.
“Of a magical chicken? Hardly.”
“Jealous of me,” you said, walking away.
You didn’t see his jaw clench, but you felt it like a ripple in the air.
Draco found ways to linger near you after that.
In Potions, he chose the station behind yours. In Defense, he always had something to say when you answered a question; never rude, but always a challenge. At meals, he slid into the seat across from you if there was an opening, even if he had to ignore Pansy’s scowl to do it.
“Do you ever get tired of hovering?” you asked once, biting into a slice of apple.
Draco didn’t look up from buttering his toast. “Do you ever get tired of pretending you don’t like the attention?”
You froze, the apple slice halfway to your mouth. His tone was casual, but his eyes flicked to you with the same fire they always held when he was trying to get a reaction.
And maybe — just for a second — you gave him one.
You stood and left without a word, heart pounding.
——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——
The library became your refuge after that.
It always had been, in truth, but now it was more than that. The long shelves and quiet corners gave you space to think, to breathe, to not feel like Draco was always watching you. You took comfort in the weight of books, the smell of parchment, the soothing scratch of a quill.
One evening, well into October, you were buried in a stack of books for your Charms essay when a shadow fell across the table.
You didn’t have to look up.
“You’ve got to be joking,” you muttered. “This is sacred space, Malfoy.”
“I need this book,” he said, fingers grazing the spine of the one beside you.
You slid it across the table. “Take it. Leave.”
He didn’t move.
When you finally looked up, he was already staring at you.
“What?” you snapped.
Draco tilted his head, pale hair falling into his eyes. “Why do you hate me so much?”
You blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I’m being serious,” he said, voice quieter now, more steady. “I’ve known you since we were toddlers. You’ve never liked me. Even when I tried—”
“You always tried,” you interrupted, voice low and sharp. “You tried to show off. You tried to win. You tried to be better. You tried to steal every room, every breath, like you were owed it. You don’t get it, do you? I was always the backup. The extra. Your parents liked me because mine worshipped yours. But I wasn’t you. I was just… near you.”
Draco looked stunned. For once, he had no retort.
You weren’t sure where the words came from, only that they’d been living inside you for too long.
The silence stretched.
Finally, he said, “I never saw you as an extra.”
Your throat tightened.
“I know you don’t believe me,” he added. “But I always thought you were better than me. Smarter. Stronger. You just didn’t want to be seen.”
You stared at him, pulse hammering.
He took the book. Didn’t say thank you. Didn’t gloat.
Just left.
And you hated that, hours later, when the library was empty and your candle burned low, you kept replaying his voice in your head.
I never saw you as an extra.
——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——
You’d told yourself it didn’t matter.
The Yule Ball was just a dance—one night, one event, nothing special. You weren’t a romantic, not really. You didn’t dream of floating gowns or candlelit waltzes or being asked with roses and trembling hands.
But you had dreamed of going with him.
Draco Malfoy, of all people.
It disgusted you.
It thrilled you.
And it tore you in two.
Because he hadn’t asked. And neither had you.
It was early December when you realized you were waiting.
Waiting for him to say something, anything. A question muttered under his breath, an offhand comment, a sarcastic invitation that masked sincerity underneath.
But nothing came.
He still watched you. In classes, in hallways, across the Great Hall. He still found excuses to sit near you, to pair up when possible, to meet your gaze for a second too long.
But the words didn’t come. And so, with a stomach full of something that felt like bitterness, you said yes to someone else.
He was nice. Quiet. A Ravenclaw in your Charms elective. You barely remembered his name—Theo, or maybe Tim—but he had kind eyes and asked with a kind voice. You’d said yes just to prove that you could.
You told yourself Draco wouldn’t care.
You were wrong.
When you told Pansy, loud enough for him to hear, you caught the flicker of emotion in his expression. The way his jaw shifted. The pause before he spoke.
“Oh,” he said coolly, as if your words bored him. “Didn’t realize your standards had dropped so low.”
You blinked. “Didn’t realize you had the authority to set them.”
He sneered. “Don’t be dramatic. It’s just a dance.”
You turned. “Exactly. And yet here you are..making it one.”
Later that day, you heard through the whisper vine that Draco had asked someone too. Astoria Greengrass.
You didn’t care.
You didn’t.
The night of the Yule Ball, the castle glittered.
Fairy lights shimmered across the ceilings, frost curled on the stone archways like a spell. The air smelled of pine and magic and anticipation. Your dress robes were midnight blue, elegant and quiet, chosen not to stand out but to suit you.
You looked in the mirror and wondered, briefly, if he would notice.
You hoped he wouldn’t.
You hoped he would.
Theo, definitely Theo, was polite and charming, guiding you through introductions and conversations with practiced ease. He complimented your dress, asked if you wanted punch, and didn’t seem to mind when your eyes kept drifting toward the Slytherin table.
Draco had arrived minutes after you. He wore black and silver, hair perfectly slicked back, posture as sharp as ever. Astoria clung to his arm like a vine on a crumbling wall, talking constantly. He didn’t seem to hear a word.
Because his eyes were on you.
From across the room, over shoulders and chandeliers and a hundred drifting snowflake charms, he watched you.
He looked—
Furious.
Longing.
Trapped.
The dancing began. You moved stiffly at first, uncertain on your feet, distracted. Theo led well, but your heart wasn’t in it. Your eyes flicked to Draco again and again.
He wasn’t dancing. Just standing at the edge of the floor, lips tight, arms folded, watching Astoria talk to someone else.
He should’ve asked you.
He should’ve asked you.
After the second dance, you stepped away.
You needed air, or silence, or just not to be seen.
Theo offered to follow, but you waved him off kindly. “Just a moment. I’ll be right back.”
But you didn’t come back. You walked through the arched exit, past the flurries floating in the corridor, out into the rose garden, where the snow dusted everything in white.
You exhaled, breath clouding the air.
And then you heard the door open behind you.
You didn’t turn.
“Running off on your date?” Draco’s voice was unmistakable—low, tense, almost breathless.
You braced yourself. “Better than being ignored by yours.” A beat of silence.
“He wouldn’t shut up about how pretty you looked.”
You turned slowly. Draco stood a few feet away, hair mussed from the cold, hands buried in his pockets.
“He’s not wrong,” he added, quieter.
You swallowed. “You left Astoria.”
“She’ll live.”
You watched him. “What do you want, Draco?”
His jaw worked like he was chewing on something dangerous.
“I wanted to ask you.”
You blinked. “Ask me what?”
“The damn dance.”
The snow kept falling between you, soft and slow and heavy.
“Why didn’t you?” you asked.
He took a step forward. “Because I thought you’d say no.”
“I thought you didn’t want to.”
He scoffed, voice thick. “Are you kidding? I’ve wanted to dance with you since second year. I just— I didn’t know how to—”
He broke off.
You stared at him, heart pounding, every wall you’d built slowly cracking in the frostbitten air.
“You’re an idiot,” you whispered.
“I know.”
Another step.
“You’re arrogant.”
“I know.”
“You’re late.”
And still, another step. Close now.
“I know,” he said again, voice softer. “But I’m here.”
You didn’t speak. You just looked at him—Draco Malfoy, who somehow still knew how to make your chest ache just by standing too close.
His hand rose slowly, hovering beside your waist. “May I?”
You let him.
You danced under the moonlight in silence. No music. Just the sound of your breaths, the crunch of snow, the aching realization that this, this, was what you’d both wanted all along.
And finally, as he rested his forehead against yours and whispered your name like an apology, you forgave him for not asking sooner.
Because he’d found you anyway.
——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——
The war hadn’t begun yet.
Not officially. Not in the way textbooks would one day define it. But it was there — in the hushed voices outside classrooms, in the extra patrolling prefects, in the glances exchanged between professors when they thought no one was looking.
It was in the ink that spilled from Rita Skeeter’s quill, in the cold grip of Dolores Umbridge’s fake-smiling tyranny, and in the way Draco stopped meeting your eyes in the corridors.
Not at first. At first, he was bold.
After the Yule Ball, something between you had cracked wide open. You were never officially anything — no labels, no hand-holding in the halls, no declarations. Just moments.
Moments like his fingers brushing yours beneath a shared textbook. His voice low in your ear in Potions. The way he lingered after Prefect meetings, walking slowly beside you with his hands in his pockets and his eyes somewhere distant unless you spoke.
It was real. You both knew it.
But reality had a way of twisting when the world around you started to fracture.
Umbridge arrived in a haze of pink lace and venom. Her rules grew daily. Her smile shrank. Fear crept into the castle the way frost crept into windowpanes.
You became more cautious.
Draco became more distant.
He still looked for you. You caught him across classrooms, his gaze sharp and searching. But he stopped speaking to you as often in public. Stopped choosing to sit near you. When your friends asked, you shrugged and said he was busy, that it didn’t matter.
But it did.
You missed him in the most subtle ways — the ways you couldn’t admit out loud. The pauses between his jokes, the quiet nods only you understood, the way he always noticed when you were having a bad day.
And maybe… he missed you too.
It wasn’t until a particularly cold night in January that the silence broke.
You’d snuck out after curfew — not for trouble, just for air. The Astronomy Tower was your refuge, your breath visible in the chill, your hands wrapped around the stone railing like you could hold the castle still.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
You turned. Slowly. Like a dream you didn’t trust.
Draco stood in the archway, robes half-fastened, cheeks flushed from the wind.
You didn’t speak. Just watched as he crossed the space between you and stood beside you, eyes on the stars.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” you said quietly.
“I haven’t,” he replied, though he didn’t sound convincing.
You glanced at him, your heart a little too loud in your ears. “Then why do you only talk to me in empty corridors?”
“Because it’s safer.”
“For who?” you asked. “Me? Or you?”
Silence.
Draco leaned his arms against the railing, his hands clenched. “Things are… changing.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t,” he snapped, then caught himself. He sighed. “You don’t know what my parents are saying. What they’re expecting.”
You swallowed. “So you’d rather pretend nothing’s happening?”
“No,” he said, voice strained. “I just don’t want to drag you into it.”
You hesitated. “You think I’d let you protect me by pretending I don’t exist?”
His eyes met yours, and for the first time in weeks, you saw the boy who had found you in the snow. The boy who danced with you under moonlight and didn’t let go.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said quietly. “Even when I try.”
Your throat tightened. “Then stop trying.”
There was a beat — a long, painful pause where the cold wind blew and neither of you blinked.
And then he reached for you.
It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t practiced. Just fingers grazing yours, gently, like he was asking permission.
You gave it.
You didn’t kiss, not yet. But he rested his forehead against yours like he had before, and the world felt a little quieter for a moment. Like maybe, despite everything, you had time.
“Promise me something?” he asked, voice barely audible.
You nodded.
“When everything falls apart… don’t hate me.”
You didn’t answer.
Because you couldn’t promise that. Not yet.
But you didn’t let go.
——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——
You knew he was lying before he even opened his mouth.
Draco had grown quieter this year. Not the same sulky silence from before—but something colder, heavier. His smiles were rare. His eyes, darker. He walked the castle like it might collapse under him at any moment.
You didn’t ask at first.
You weren’t stupid. You saw the signs: his shaking hands, the late-night absences, the way he flinched when someone said his name too loudly. Something had shifted. Something you weren’t supposed to know.
But you knew him.
And you knew he was breaking.
——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——
It began with shadows.
At first, you only saw him in pieces. A glimpse of white-blond hair disappearing around corners. A flash of his robes slipping through the seventh-floor corridor. The soft creak of a door shutting somewhere you weren’t meant to be.
The Room of Requirement.
You found him there by accident, or maybe fate. Or maybe you were both tired of pretending you didn’t exist to each other.
You pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The room was dark, cold, and empty—save for him. He stood near a covered cabinet, back turned, shoulders tight. When you said his name, he didn’t move.
But his voice cracked.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
You stepped closer. “Neither should you.”
“I mean it,” he said, finally turning. “You don’t want to know what I’m doing.”
“I already know what you’re doing,” you whispered. “You just haven’t said it out loud.”
His mouth opened. Closed. Then, finally, he sank down onto a bench, head in his hands.
“I don’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice, Draco.”
He looked up sharply. “Not with them. Not with him.”
The silence stretched between you like a wound. You stepped toward him, your voice barely above a breath.
“What did he promise you?”
Draco didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
You already knew.
Immortality. Power. Safety for his family. A name that wouldn't burn when the war finally came to the doorstep.
You sat beside him slowly, your knees brushing.
“Is that worth becoming someone you can’t look at in the mirror?”
His head dropped, hair falling over his eyes. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”
You reached for his hand. It was shaking.
“I do,” you whispered.
He didn’t kiss you then. Not yet.
But his fingers tightened around yours like he might drown without you.
The weeks blurred after that.
You met in secret—late nights in the Room of Requirement, the Astronomy Tower, the far edges of the library where no one else wandered anymore. He never told you the full truth, but you heard it in the things he didn’t say.
Every time you touched him, it felt like holding fire.
You didn’t care.
You kissed him for the first time two weeks before the end.
It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t slow.
It was angry and desperate—his hands in your hair, your fingers gripping his collar, the two of you breaking open like dammed water. You pulled away breathless, trembling, afraid of what it meant.
He didn’t let you go.
And you didn’t want him to.
——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——
The night everything changed, the castle was too quiet.
The air felt charged, like a storm rolling in, low and full of warning.
You found him outside the Room of Requirement. Alone. His face pale. Eyes wide. There was blood on his cuff.
Your breath caught. “Draco.”
He didn’t look at you. Just stared at the wall like he couldn’t remember how to move.
“They’re here.”
You stepped back. “Who?”
He turned to you, and the world fell out from under your feet.
“The Death Eaters. I let them in.”
Your stomach dropped. “No.”
“I had to,” he said, voice hollow. “He would’ve killed my mother…my father…they said—”
“Draco, stop—” You shook your head. “You don’t have to do this—whatever this is, we can still—”
“There’s no time,” he said, stepping forward, taking your face in his hands. “I don’t know what happens next. But you can’t be here. If they find you with me— if they think you’re on my side—”
“I am on your side,” you choked.
“No,” he said, voice breaking. “You’re better than this. Better than me.”
You slapped your hands over his, holding them in place.
“I’m not leaving you.”
He stared at you; panicked, furious, heartbroken.
Then he kissed you again. Like it was the last time. Like he wanted to carve the memory into you in case you never saw him again.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor.
He tore away from you, breathing hard.
“Go,” he whispered. “Please.”
You didn’t want to. You wanted to scream. To drag him away. To beg him not to become what he feared.
But you turned.
You ran.
And behind you, Draco Malfoy disappeared into the dark.
——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——
They said Hogwarts was still a school.
That was a lie.
The Great Hall was quiet now, meals eaten in silence under watchful eyes. Carrows prowled the corridors like wolves, punishing dissent, preaching obedience. Students disappeared, sometimes for hours. Sometimes for days.
You were one of the “lucky” ones, pureblood, clever, compliant on the surface. You learned to walk with your head down, to speak carefully, to hold your tongue when screams echoed from behind sealed doors.
But you were never safe.
Not really.
Especially not from yourself — or from the memory of the boy you had once kissed beneath a sky full of snow.
Draco was a ghost in these halls now.
You rarely saw him during the day. When you did, he was flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, silent and sharp, his eyes rimmed with sleepless shadows. He spoke less. Smirked less. Looked tired — the kind of tired that settled in your bones and never left.
The first time your eyes met across a corridor that year, it felt like a knife and a lifeline all at once.
You didn’t speak.
You just looked.
And then passed each other like strangers with matching scars.
They made you practice the Cruciatus Curse in Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Carrow sneered as you hesitated. “You’re not trying hard enough.”
You looked at the shaking student across from you; a third year. Barely twelve. His wand was trembling.
“I can’t,” you said quietly.
“You can,” Carrow snapped, voice like rot. “And you will.”
A voice cut through the silence.
“She won’t.”
The whole class turned.
Draco stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes like steel. “She’s not your puppet.”
Carrows smile twisted. “Ah. So the Malfoy boy’s found his spine.”
Draco didn’t flinch. “She’s better than this.”
You didn’t know what you were more shocked by — his words, or the fact that he said them out loud.
Carrow gave you both detention.
You didn’t care.
It was nearly midnight when he found you outside the Astronomy Tower again.
You didn’t look at him right away. Just stared at the sky, wondering if the stars would still exist after this war.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
You turned, finally. “For what?”
“For everything,” he whispered. “For not asking you sooner. For not fighting harder. For not running when I should have. For letting this place become what it is.”
You stepped closer, fingers aching to touch him. “I don’t need apologies, Draco. I need you.”
He swallowed hard. “You shouldn’t want me.”
“But I do,” you said, voice cracking. “I always have.”
There was silence.
Then he kissed you like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
This time, it wasn’t angry. It wasn’t desperate. It was real.
He cupped your face like you might shatter. You held him like he already had.
And when he pulled away, breathing fast, you saw the tears he hadn’t let fall all year.
“I don’t know how this ends,” he said. “I don’t know if I make it out. If we do.”
You brushed your thumb over his jaw. “Then we hold on until we can’t.”
——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——
The final weeks were chaos.
Whispers of rebellion. Dumbledore’s Army returning from the shadows. Students sneaking supplies through broken walls and secret passages. Hope clung to the air like smoke, thin, dangerous, but still there.
You and Draco didn’t talk during the day. Didn’t meet eyes in front of others. But at night, he’d find you. Just for a moment. Just long enough to remind himself he hadn’t lost everything.
On the night the battle began, you met in the dungeon corridor—silent, hearts thudding in sync.
“I don’t want to leave you here,” you whispered.
He shook his head. “You have to go. Fight with them.”
“I want to fight with you.”
“You can’t,” he said, voice breaking. “You don’t understand. I’ve done things. I’ve stood beside monsters. They’ll never trust me.”
“I do.”
He kissed your forehead. “That’s what terrifies me.”
A voice called from the hall. You turned, the war already roaring to life beyond the walls.
You looked back at him—your Draco, your fire, your undoing.
Synopsis:( A story where both of you are engaged since kids). A very sweet confession.
Note: A new chapter is here, this one is short, beacuse I've been busy doing other things and reading, I was imagining how a sweet and honest confession should happen.
Confession.
You slowly caress his face, as if your fingers are trying to memorize it so you can draw it later.
"I knew I loved you." He says. That summer afternoon, when we were seven, we ran through the meadow near the country house. You held my hand while running ahead of me. Your smile filled my heart, and the sun shone on your hair. I held your hand tighter, knowing that I never wanted to let go of you again.
"I knew I had always loved you." You say. At fourteen, after Herbology class, we ran through the rain and skipped the next class just because I wanted to dance in the rain. Without hesitation, you fulfilled my wish. As we danced, your hand on my waist and your hair disheveled and wet, you smiled at me. I understood it then. That smile, which had always been with me, was not something I wanted to lose sight of. I didn't want it to belong to anyone else.
Draco inclines his face toward yours; there is no space between you. He gently and reverently kissed you on the lips. The desire is there, but it is a respectful and affectionate desire; a kiss that goes beyond carnal desire or youthful passion. It's a kiss that treats your existence as something sacred, something to venerate.
"I love you," He says. A decision, an oath.
"I love you." You reply. One truth.
───────────────────────────────────────────
I know I say I'll post a new one this friday but it might take me a few days to finished it (mostly because I'm currently reading "Alchemised by Sen Lin Yu" and i want to finish second part today heheh)
Also if you want to be tagged in future post of this story let me know in the comments.
You’d be bent over in the kitchen, picking up something you’d dropped or peering into the pan, when suddenly—
You gasp at the sharp snap of his hips against your upturned ass, nearly pitching you forward. You had to brace your palms flat on the counter.
“Hey!”
Before he simply laughs, wandering off.
Or in bed, when he’s draped lazily on top of you like you were a pillow, drowsily sucking on your tongue.
“Mmmm..” Murmuring and humming as he went. His little night cap before going to sleep.
When your thigh, tangled with his legs, grows hot against the half-hard thickness pressing—no, dragging—against it.
And he'd keep going on and on. Languidly grinding with his mouth devotedly slipping against yours until they bruised and you grew dizzy and hot. And wet.
“Do you want to fuck or not?” Sexual frustration blunting your voice.
“No.” He'd say with a scoff, looking unbearably smug.
Thereafter, his hand slides up your waist almost affectionately while his hips give another heady roll against your thigh, watching your face twist hotter and meaner under him.
“Just this turns you on?”
You nearly call him an asshole.
But you’d stopped yourself because you knew he was just like this.
Touchy. Playful with his affection.
To him, it's the same as pulling you into his lap or rubbing his nose against your cheek or squeezing your breasts for comfort.
It was the constant instinctive need to just feel you.
Heart-achingly loving. And annoyingly innocent.
You’d have to bite your tongue, then, at your teasing boyfriend who was all sleepy hips, needy little kisses and mindless friction.
Suna loves your coach bag. Probably more than you do. He bought it as a gift when he went to the Paris Olympics.
You cherish it so much. It has a few wear marks from being your daily bag. And the zip handle has broken a few times, but you were quick to fix it. Sometimes Suna would offer to buy a new one, but you'd always shut him down because it would lose its sentimental value. Plus, Coach is expensive. Why bother?
He would always carry it for you, and it would be glued to his shoulder all day. There was this one time when he almost went to sleep with that bag on (Lord knows how that happens). He would always suggest your coach bag whenever you ask what bag matches your outfit. Even when your scrolling through his photo gallery of you, that coach bag was somewhat present in every photo.
“Rin, why is my bag seen in every photo?!” You mentally screamed, zooming into the corner of the photo. You swear, it was driving you mad.
“What? That bag makes you an it girl”
Oh yes, that coach bag was the it bag. Made you serve, as you should!
Then he started to notice all the keyrings you would glamorise your bag with. One day, it was the iconic coach cherry. Another day, it would be a Rilakumma plush dangling, and every time he met eyes with the bear's fat head, he imagined Rilakumma screaming at him for help. At first, it bothered him. The noise of jingling whenever you walked. But he's become accustomed to it and has grown quite fond of adding a personal touch to your coach bag.
For example, personally embroiders his name on the inside label of your bag. You saw the gesture as insanely sweet. Another reason why to never replace it, no matter how scruffed up and damaged it will become. When you posted a insta story of his embroidered name, you received many sweet messages, but also...
People thought the coach bag was his.
He found it funny and actually liked that idea. Crap, maybe you should buy him his very own coach bag. Soon. You assured yourself by noting it down in your planner.
Recently, you and Suna watched Zootopia 2! Such a good movie! You immediately went to Miniso to check out the merch, and Suna bought you a Nick Wilde keychain. (And compared himself to Nick Wilde, of course).
Later that night, he became the centre of attention when he posted a photo of himself nonchalantly holding your coach bag (ft. Nick Wilde). Let's just say that the sales for that specific coach bag drastically went up.
Now, everyone has that coach bag. You see at least one girl matching your bag whenever you go out. You don't really mind it. After all, did Suna buy them their bag? No. And did they have Suna Rinatarou's name personally embroidered inside? Nah. Yeah, you're all good. Don't worry about it.
Authors Note:
Hi! Thanks for liking my other posts! Seriously did not expect many to read them, but I'm so happy heh. I’m not the best at writing, but it feels nice to post them. Hope you all have a wonderful day :D
Nsfw headcanons of the handsome birthday guy with fem reader. You can find the sfw part here.
Warnings: mdni obvs, lots of teasing, some hickeys, choking, and idk what else I should put in here, hope u enjoy. <3
Suna Rintarou, whose slow and teasing kisses make you melt completely on his lips and into his arms.
Suna Rintarou, who loves kissing you until you're out of breath just to hear your heavy breathing right after he separates from your lips, looking directly at you with a sly smile.
Suna Rintarou, who's literally weak for neck kisses. Want to turn him on? Kiss his neck, lick his skin slowly and even suck on it, drives him crazy right away.
Suna Rintarou, who always teases you with his fingers barely touching your waist from underneath your clothes. He adores making you get chills just by that, letting you know what he's truly desiring.
Suna Rintarou, who can't resist licking and biting your skin whenever you're at it. He wants to savour every inch of you.
Suna Rintarou, who's got a thing for hickeys. He loves placing them where only he is able to see, sometimes going for more visible areas when he is feeling possessive.
Suna Rintarou, who never admits he is feeling jealous, but who makes it obvious enough just from the way he touches you the second you two are alone; hands grabbing and pulling you closer as if you were about to disappear if he loosens his grip even for a moment.
Suna Rintarou, who loves calling you "pretty girl" or "pretty doll" with a smirk on his face, framing those foxy green eyes that make your knees weak.
Suna Rintarou, who loves it when you sit on his lap; hands on your waist, lowering them to your hips and thighs as his lips fondle yours in a kiss, a kiss that makes you swear you're dreaming until he goes for your neck, biting gently on it.
Suna Rintarou, who loves watching you touching yourself, specially when you think he hasn't come home yet.
Suna Rintarou, who bites his own lips as he starts touching himself too, doing his best to not get caught before entering the room to help you out. He just can't help but wanting to enjoy the view for a few seconds more, feeling his chest heavier with every breath.
Suna Rintarou, who gets off with pictures of you whenever he's alone, but who ends up frustrated because it's nothing compared to what he feels with you.
Suna Rintarou, who would die to film a video of you two during sex, but who always respects your boundaries if you don't want to.
Suna Rintarou, who loves it when you're riding him as much as he loves when you're chest against the mattress, pulling your hips towards him with every thrust.
Suna Rintarou, who loves hearing you moan, but who also loves watching you suck on his fingers with teary eyes.
Suna Rintarou, who's got a thing for choking you as he slams his hips against you; licking his lips, eyes half dazed, and his free hand travelling across your whole body.
Suna Rintarou, who's insanely good at eating you out, doing it not only for your pleasure but for his too, letting you feel the vibrations of his muffled moans against your skin.
Suna Rintarou, who always ends up teasing your entrance with a pair of fingers, mouth on your clit until your legs are trembling around his head.
Suna Rintarou, who touches you in front of a mirror, forcing you to watch how much of a mess you are from even before he fucks you right. He pretty much loves mirror sex.
Suna Rintarou, who makes you ride him and work for yourself as he sits back and enjoys the view with lustful eyes, but who ends up brutally fucking you as he blames you for tempting him so bad with your little whines and pants.
Suna Rintarou, who loves having car sex after a night out together, listening to a playlist you both share until the windows fog up.
Suna Rintarou, who loves it when you tease him. He is addicted to the sensation of desire and tension growing deeper within you and him, making him feel the physical urge to touch you and tease you back.
Suna Rintarou, who places countless kisses all over you in an attempt to show how obsessed he is with everything about you. Kisses and marks are always a must for him. Always.
Suna Rintarou, who wants you to sit on his face. Not hovering. No. Sit. He grips your thighs to make you fully sit, only letting go to touch the rest of your body when you start rocking your hips as you drown in pleasure.
Suna Rintarou, who loves it when you give him head. Even better if he's able to see how you touch yourself in desperation to feel some more stimulation besides his teasing words in between moans and groans.
Suna Rintarou, who fucks you dumb after your long stressful days. "You can't feel stressed if you can't even hold a thought" he says as he excuses himself, adding that he's taking care of you, though he would do it any time you let him.
Suna Rintarou, who never thought he would actually enjoy cock-warming until you tried it once. He refused to let your lips unkissed for longer than a minute, hands wandering all over you as he kept trying to pull you impossibly closer the whole time.
Suna Rintarou, who loves watching you fall apart just by using his hands. He's got all your weak spots memorized, touching you just the right way, fingering you as he presses on your clit with his thumb. Everything just to make you cum like that again and again, lips going from your chest to your lips, even leaving sweet kisses on your forehead too from time to time.
Suna Rintarou, who helps you clean yourself every single time after you both end up exhausted, kissing you softly and leaving loving traces all over you once again before hugging you tight.
studying with rintarou suna is easy. he's quiet, and you're practically flying through the pages, unaware of everything that's going on around you, unaware of him. or the way he's abandoned his textbooks a long time ago, and how he's redirected his eyes to your face instead.
when you finally do look up, he's gazing at you in a sort of quiet reverence, chin propped up one one hand, lips twisted into a pout. you flush, clear your throat; he doesn't seem to notice that you're looking back at him until you say his name, once, then again, louder.
he startles. "huh? what?"
immediately, he looks like his normal self again, with his calm face and usual deadpan. but there's a similar red tinge, like yours, creeping across the tips of his ears, that you wouldn't have noticed if you didn't know him so well. just what is going on?
something in you says you shouldn't pursue it; instead, you say gently, "you got distracted, sunarin, go back to studying, yeah?"
"yeah," he agrees, but it's as if he can't bring himself to decide whether he's disappointed or relieved.
you voice your concerns to kita, aran and the miya twins the next day, when the six of you are hanging out. "i dunno, he... just hasn't been his usual self," you explain. "he keeps zoning out! it's so weird..."
"that's not true!" he protests, sitting up straight. he's even put away his phone—highly uncharacteristic, by the way—in order to argue with you, so it must be something very important to him, you note. so you decide to leave it at that.
"okay, okay," you agree. "you just had a day, we get it, really."
but as usual, it's atsumu who goes and carries it on: "no, you're wrong—he's not zoning out specifically in your direction, you know."
wait—you don't recall mentioning that particular bit of information to them when you were recounting your story. atsumu seems the grin on your face and opens his mouth, but osamu elbows him and he closes it again. only for a second, though. no one, really no one can control him when he's put his mind to anything.
"he wasn't zoning out!" he blurts. "he was just staring at the love of his life!"
a slipper hits him square in the face—playing volleyball has definitely helped with rin's aim, and he looks pissed.
"atsumu!" kita chokes, utterly scandalised.
"atsumu!" you squeak, equally taken aback.
"forget it, it's nothing," suna tells you. "miya, we're going to have a talk. stat."
"oh..."
"y'know," says kita, when the two of them are gone. "that boy really does like you."
"thanks," you reply, "but i'd appreciate it if you didn't sound like my granddad when you tell me that."
he laughs, and something like hope blooms in your chest.
you dare to approach him again later that evening, when he's vindictively scrolling on his phone, a murdeous look on his face.
"rin..."
"what?" it comes out harsh, mean, and he immediately looks sorry for it, eyes softening as he apologises to you. "i don't know why i sounded like that, i'm sorry, i'm not mad at you or anything, i promise!"
"no, i get it," you assure him. "atsumu's the ass here."
he laughs in agreement, but it sounds exasperated and tired in a way you're not used to. or maybe you just haven't noticed, wrapped up in your own thoughts about his wry humour and pretty face.
"anyway," you continue.
"anyway?" he repeats, confused.
"yeah, about earlier..."
"nope," he says. "absolutely not. i'm not going to have this conversation right now."
"kita said what atsumu said was true."
rin's eyes widen dramatically. "that bastard! i trusted him!"
on any other day, you would've paused this to laugh at his reaction. but right now, you carry on bravely. "i would've liked it more if you'd told me yourself."
"i would never—wait, what do you mean, like it more? do you like me?"
you let out a halfhearted, awkward chuckle. "maybe..."
"this isn't funny," he tells you seriously. "if you're joking, i'm literally going to kill myself."
"i'm—" you swallow nervously. "i'm not joking."
"oh. cool." he puts his phone down onto the coffee table next to him, takes a step closer to you. his eyes flit down to your lips for just a fraction of a second—he's absolutely shameless, that's what he is.
"if i were to kiss you right now, what'd your reaction be?" he asks. "hypothetical, of course."
you pretend to think. "well, hypothetically, i'd probably kiss you back."
he grins, and your heart does a triple backflip. "so can i—?"
you close the gap between the two of you and do it yourself.
and even though atsumu set everything off, he's chagrined to know that he's the last to find out about this shocking new development—that you'd thought he already knew about, because wasn't it obvious? and maybe he does murmur a curse or two under his breath as he glares down at suna draped over you on your couch, but you know and he knows, at the end of the day, he is happy for you. (and years later, when he's giving his speech at your wedding, he ends up taking all the credit for making it happen in the first place. really, that bastard.)
႔ ႔ WRITER SPEAKING - WAIITTT IM BACK IN MY SUNA PHASE...MIGHT MAKE THIS A SERIES ACTUALLY
WC - 885
SUNA RINTAROU
Shit! You were supposed to be home by 4:35, but since track held you back, you were over here running back in the school to get your stuff at 5:02!! Your whole body was already sore from running for thirty minutes, take a break! But, you sadly can't. As you ran into the gym to go get your belongings from the bleachers, you paused and saw Suna Rintarou practicing on the court with Atsumu, Osamu just sitting aside on the top of the bleachers, scrolling on his phone. You kinda got distracted. Just a teensy bit. I mean, he's totally not your crush from sophomore year. Yeah, totally—wait, is he looking at you? OH MY GOSH HE'S LOOKING AT YOU. "Hey, look at where you're going!" He called out with barely any effort, brows slightly furrowed. Huh? When you look forward as you kept running to your stuff, you were about to run into the bleachers. "Oh shit!—" Famous last words from you as you stumbled over the first step, tripping and landing with your hands on the second bleacher, knees hitting the surface between the first and second step. God, how embarrassing.
Suna walked over to you as Atsumu caught the ball, pausing his most PERFECT set that he was about to do for Suna until you interrupted them. You just stayed there, too embarrassed to even look back. That was until a strong arm wrapped around your stomach and he helped you up. Both of you made eye contact, and you didn't miss that stupid sly smirk of his. "Aren't you the girl from sophomore homecoming? Y/n, yeah?" He sounded a bit smug as if he was taunting you without even trying. "You remember that?" You hated how effortlessly hot he was, it suited his laidback personality wayy too much. "Yeah. You don't remember proposing your 'love' to me?" The corner of his lip slightly tugged a bit, that stupid lopsided lazy smirk that he always did. "Okay, I wasn't proposing anything. And people were just saying rumors, it wasn't true that I wanted to kiss you!" You acted defensive about it, but on the inside? Your heart was racing like hell. "Now you wanna deny it after a long time? Seems like you wanted to do more than just kiss me." His eyes locked on yours, making you pause for a split second. A split second and he's already calling it out! "See? You just froze at that." He spoke lowly. It was a split second for gods sake!–hold up, what time is it? You glance at the clock and it was already 5:17! Why the hell does time pass so quickly after school and not during school?! You quickly grab your belongings before rushing away. "Where're you going now?" He called out, watching you walk out. "Home!" You called back as you sped walk your way out the gym. "Careful you don't fall again!" He called out, laughing softly when he saw your reaction. "It was only once!!" You yelled as you left the gym.
Ever since you were at home, he was just on your mind the whole night. You had just finished taking a shower after dinner, laying on your bed and staring blankly at your moving fan. Why'd he have to be so stupidly handsome? You hated his stupid eyes, that stupid small smirk, his annoying voice...his sleeper build...okay, Y/n snap out of it. You let out the longest and loudest sigh ever, closing your eyes as you tried to clear your mind from him. That was until your phone vibrated next to you. Oh, maybe it's finally your best friend that decided to text you back an hour later. Or so you thought until you turned your phone on to see a notification from snapchat. The heck? You barely use snapchat. You didn't bother to unlock your phone to see the notification fully, turning it back off. But then it vibrated again. God, what is it now? Another damn notification from snapchat. You huff before unlocking your phone with face ID, wanting to see what the hell was going on. First thing you see was a friend request and a message from 'rinxtarou505'. Wait, that sounds familiar. When you opened the chat, all you see was a picture. Once you clicked the photo to see what it was, you see Suna laying back, the text on it being 'wsg?'.
...
WHAT?! You quickly sit up, phone in your hands as you stare at it in shock. Honestly, you didn't know whether you were surprised or happy. All you knew was how damn lucky you were for him to text you. What do you say?! Hurry, he has the chat open!
how'd u get my snap??
got it thru samu
soo why did u text me at 11 at night out of nowhere?
cant text my girl? dam
ur girl??
oh mb
soon to be girl
gn y/n
goodnight rin
He liked your message. He liked your message. Y/n, you sneaky little thing, talking to your crush. Now that you actually look back at the messages...he was literally flirting with you and you're just realizing it. What would he say when he sees you the next morning?
႔ ႔ WRITER SPEAKING - WAIITTT IM BACK IN MY SUNA PHASE...MIGHT MAKE THIS A SERIES ACTUALLY
WC - 885
SUNA RINTAROU
Shit! You were supposed to be home by 4:35, but since track held you back, you were over here running back in the school to get your stuff at 5:02!! Your whole body was already sore from running for thirty minutes, take a break! But, you sadly can't. As you ran into the gym to go get your belongings from the bleachers, you paused and saw Suna Rintarou practicing on the court with Atsumu, Osamu just sitting aside on the top of the bleachers, scrolling on his phone. You kinda got distracted. Just a teensy bit. I mean, he's totally not your crush from sophomore year. Yeah, totally—wait, is he looking at you? OH MY GOSH HE'S LOOKING AT YOU. "Hey, look at where you're going!" He called out with barely any effort, brows slightly furrowed. Huh? When you look forward as you kept running to your stuff, you were about to run into the bleachers. "Oh shit!—" Famous last words from you as you stumbled over the first step, tripping and landing with your hands on the second bleacher, knees hitting the surface between the first and second step. God, how embarrassing.
Suna walked over to you as Atsumu caught the ball, pausing his most PERFECT set that he was about to do for Suna until you interrupted them. You just stayed there, too embarrassed to even look back. That was until a strong arm wrapped around your stomach and he helped you up. Both of you made eye contact, and you didn't miss that stupid sly smirk of his. "Aren't you the girl from sophomore homecoming? Y/n, yeah?" He sounded a bit smug as if he was taunting you without even trying. "You remember that?" You hated how effortlessly hot he was, it suited his laidback personality wayy too much. "Yeah. You don't remember proposing your 'love' to me?" The corner of his lip slightly tugged a bit, that stupid lopsided lazy smirk that he always did. "Okay, I wasn't proposing anything. And people were just saying rumors, it wasn't true that I wanted to kiss you!" You acted defensive about it, but on the inside? Your heart was racing like hell. "Now you wanna deny it after a long time? Seems like you wanted to do more than just kiss me." His eyes locked on yours, making you pause for a split second. A split second and he's already calling it out! "See? You just froze at that." He spoke lowly. It was a split second for gods sake!–hold up, what time is it? You glance at the clock and it was already 5:17! Why the hell does time pass so quickly after school and not during school?! You quickly grab your belongings before rushing away. "Where're you going now?" He called out, watching you walk out. "Home!" You called back as you sped walk your way out the gym. "Careful you don't fall again!" He called out, laughing softly when he saw your reaction. "It was only once!!" You yelled as you left the gym.
Ever since you were at home, he was just on your mind the whole night. You had just finished taking a shower after dinner, laying on your bed and staring blankly at your moving fan. Why'd he have to be so stupidly handsome? You hated his stupid eyes, that stupid small smirk, his annoying voice...his sleeper build...okay, Y/n snap out of it. You let out the longest and loudest sigh ever, closing your eyes as you tried to clear your mind from him. That was until your phone vibrated next to you. Oh, maybe it's finally your best friend that decided to text you back an hour later. Or so you thought until you turned your phone on to see a notification from snapchat. The heck? You barely use snapchat. You didn't bother to unlock your phone to see the notification fully, turning it back off. But then it vibrated again. God, what is it now? Another damn notification from snapchat. You huff before unlocking your phone with face ID, wanting to see what the hell was going on. First thing you see was a friend request and a message from 'rinxtarou505'. Wait, that sounds familiar. When you opened the chat, all you see was a picture. Once you clicked the photo to see what it was, you see Suna laying back, the text on it being 'wsg?'.
...
WHAT?! You quickly sit up, phone in your hands as you stare at it in shock. Honestly, you didn't know whether you were surprised or happy. All you knew was how damn lucky you were for him to text you. What do you say?! Hurry, he has the chat open!
how'd u get my snap??
got it thru samu
soo why did u text me at 11 at night out of nowhere?
cant text my girl? dam
ur girl??
oh mb
soon to be girl
gn y/n
goodnight rin
He liked your message. He liked your message. Y/n, you sneaky little thing, talking to your crush. Now that you actually look back at the messages...he was literally flirting with you and you're just realizing it. What would he say when he sees you the next morning?
“Can you just let me hold your hand in my pocket?”
“I pulled your hand to my pocket first,” you say exasperated, though there’s an amused lilt as your fingers tighten around Suna’s, trying, again, to pull his arm closer.
He rolls his eyes. “First doesn’t matter if my pocket’s better.”
“Oh big if true,” you scoff. “Not when they have those stupid fucking zippers.”
The zipper of all things isn’t what Rintarou expected you to bring up during your argument—or whatever this was. He snorts. “What the hell is wrong with pocket zippers? You hate the safety of your belongings?”
He shifts so he’s perpendicular to you, just so he can make a show of using his right hand (left still holding yours) to zip his pocket up and down, the noise loud with no near traffic or people.
You move to swat and stop him, but he only starts to shuffle out of your reach—the two of you forming a deformed circle in the light layer of snow beneath you. It’s an inefficient fight considering you’re still holding hands, and every quick dodge instinctively gets Rin to tighten his grip, only pulling you back into range.
“Rintarou—”
“Yes, beloved?”
And then he has that grin—that stupidly attractive grin on his face he has when he’s teasing you and winning—and you can’t bring yourself to hate the fact that you have a matching one.
You laugh when he almost trips and curses. “Oh my god, Rin, it’s ’cause i hate the feeling of the zipper against my wrist, you annoying shit.”
“Sounds like a skill issue?” He taunts.
Both of you have stopped moving at this point, though the winding path of footprints in the snow is evidence enough something happened here. Rin's an arms width away when you squint and huff. “I’ll kill you. Not now, but one day, Suna Rin.”
Only then does he stop deflecting your attempts, and you notice the sound of Rin's zipper no longer fills your ears. You move back to where you were so you can rest your head against him, and he shifts closer so you don’t strain your neck.
The fog of his breath floats away in the chilly air as he lets out a sigh. “Okay.”
You don’t bother to look at him. “Okay to killing you?”
“No, you couldn’t kill me with 6 months to prepare—wouldn’t kill me even if it meant winning the lottery.”
Whatever comeback you can say is a lie since he’s right, and only manifests in a weak bump to his arm.
“I meant my pocket. I just wanted to see how hard you’d try. I don’t like the zippers either.”
That alone is enough makes you snap your head. “Rintarou.”
He smiles at you, feigning innocence, then laughs softly. Before you gain the energy to shove him, he’s already putting his hand into your much more comfortable pocket.
You fail to get the smile out of your voice, “I hate you.”
Rin rolls his eyes before pulling you closer into his side. His thumb rubs the back of yours as he replies, “Love you too.”
featuring ⋮ suna rintarō x fem!reader ⸝⸝ your boyfriend finds out just how many pictures you've taken of him...
The apartment's quiet except for the faint crackle of the record player, some old song he swears "sets the mood," drifting through the room and the soft tap tap of Suna scrolling through his phone. He's sitting on the floor between your legs, back leaning against the couch, hair slightly mussed from the long day.
You've been absentmindedly watching him for a while—how the blue light catches on his face, the lazy way his thumb drags across the screen, how relaxed he looks like this.
Without really thinking, you reach out, letting your fingers slip through his hair. It's soft, falling between your fingers easily, and he tilts his head just slightly when you scratch at his scalp.
You smile, reaching for your phone from the armrest and snapping a picture—his hair spilling between your fingers, the back of his neck just visible in the shot.
The shutter gives you away.
"...If you're gonna be sneaky," he says without looking up, "you should at least turn off the sound first."
You freeze for a second, then giggle. "Oops."
That's all it takes for him to twist around, half-turning on his knees as he reaches for your phone. "Give it here."
You pull it back immediately, laughing. "No way! You'll delete it!"
"Exactly." He lunges again, and you twist your body, holding the phone out of reach.
"Suna—!" you squeal between laughs, but he's faster. He grabs your wrist, pries the phone out of your hand, and leans back triumphantly.
"Hey! No fair!" you protest, reaching for it again.
He ignores you, already unlocking it with ease—because of course he knows your passcode.
"Let's see what you've got here—" His words trail off as he open your gallery. Then his brows lift, amused. "Oh wow. There's... so many."
You prop yourself up on your elbows, smiling sheepishly. "Obviously. Why wouldn't there be?"
He keep scrolling, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Even me in the restroom...?" His tone's half-disbelieving, half-laughing as he glances up at you.
You try to stifle your laugh. "That one was funny!"
"Yeah, no." He snorts, thumb already moving. "I'm deleting that one. And—ugh—this one. Oh god, babe, why would you keep that?"
"Don't!" You reach over the couch to grab for it, but he leans away. "They all mean something to me!"
He gives you a look, incredulous. "I'm literally picking my nose in this one, what's it mean—'human nature'?"
You burst out laughing, nearly falling off the couch as he holds the phone above his head, smirking.
He scrolls a little more, and something in his expression softens. The teasing fades for a moment. “...You really have a lot of these.”
You blink, catching the change in his tone. “Yeah,” you say quietly, smiling. “Guess I just like having you close, even in pictures.”
He looks at you for a moment longer—eyes a little warmer now—then sighs, handing the phone back. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he mutters, leaning forward to press a kiss to your knee before turning back around and grabbing his phone again.
You're still catching your breath from laughing when you hear the soft click of a camera shutter.
You blink. "Did you just—?"
Suna doesn’t even look up, thumb lazily scrolling as a tiny smirk tugs at his lips.
“There,” he says, glancing back at you over his shoulder. “Now we’re even.”
Best friend's brother!Suna pretending he isn't paying attention to your ass whilst you're leaning over the kitchen counter, giggling with his sister about god-knows-what.
Best friend's brother!Suna trying not to stare at you in your tiny pyjamas that barely reach the top of your thighs, getting a glass of water in the middle of the night.
Best friend's brother!Suna rolling his eyes as his sister berates him for looking at you one second too long, but what is he supposed to do when you're walking around in those short skirts?
Best friend's brother!Suna who makes sure the shower is running loud enough to drown out the moans of your name as he fists his cock to the thought of bending you over the counter.
Best friend's brother!Suna who, one night, gives up pretending and makes a move after his sister left you two downstairs by yourselves.
Best friend's brother!Suna who falls asleep hugging you with a satisfied grin, ready to deal with the lecture his sister will give him in the morning
more than friends, less than lovers (but basically lovers anyway)
suna x reader fluff???, timeskip, solution-focused!suna x emotion-focused!reader in some bits, not rly angst but i guess angst if you squint and read between the lines hard enough
wc: 1318
_
being in a more than friends, less than lovers situation(ship) with suna is a headache. the biggest headache you'll ever have in your life. it's probably as bad as it is because you two have been friends since middle school—your lore went that far back into history and it always started with you liking him and him not liking you back. but things have changed—without anyone else knowing—and you simply can't deny just how special it is even if it's a little bit fucked up because
suna brings you home gifts from wherever he travels
it did not matter where suna was coming from—if you've been there, if you don't care about the place, or if there's nothing interesting about where he's going. suna will, without fail, bring you back a souvenir of some sort because he was thinking about you the entire time he was away.
and it's not entirely a secret. he just simply doesn't feel the need to address or explain what the hell he's doing at an overpriced trinket shop or at an overpriced sweets shop to buy something to bring home.
who cares about how pricey or impractical something is when your face lights up and you laugh your sweet laugh as soon as suna shows you what he brought home. it's funny, actually, that he considers your apartment home now.
he'll phrase it as "look what i brought home for you," and you both don't bat an eye because yeah what did he bring home for you? was it something cute to add onto your trinket shelf? a cute keychain to switch into your keychain rotation? or a snack to share and judge to eventually add onto your 'japan snacks tier list'?
suna simply feels as though he can't come home empty handed anymore. it's almost a tradition at this point.
suna spends the night when you can't sleep
it's only recently that suna learned you sleep better with someone by your side. not necessarily someone. him, to be specific. he didn't understand exactly why him being there helped you sleep better until one night it just clicked.
the steady rise and fall of your chest, the absolute peace on your expression, and the intimacy that vulnerability brings that became oddly apparent absolutely changed everything for him. it made his heart swell and the warmth he felt in his body almost made him want to hurl.
but the feeling was welcomed.
you sleep better when he's there because you feel safe.
and boy did that make his ego even larger than it already was.
there's a sense of pride that begins to bubble in his chest when you call him to sleepover. it's not to hook-up—you two are way passed that stage and simply enjoy one another's company now—but instead to cuddle and "sync heartbeats" to promote healthy living (or whatever the hell you say it is).
he doesn't care. he's more than happy to know you feel the way that you feel and that, to you, he's someone safe. so of course he'll pat your thigh until you fall asleep, of course he'll massage your scalp until you fall asleep, of course he'll do whatever you need him to do until you fall asleep. you can depend on him. please depend on him.
suna responds to you as soon as he can
as a professional athlete, he's a busy guy. it's not often his phone is on him and it's not often his smart watch is on him either. there are days where he simply doesn't have access to anything because he's on the court, he's training, or something else.
that doesn't stop him from communicating with you and understanding that a lack of response sometimes makes you feel anxious. he doesn't get it—he's simply not as emotionally charged or maybe sentimental as you at times—but he tries.
the moment he gets a chance and he sees your message, he'll send you a quick "hey, sorry, didn't have my phone on me all day" that is sometimes accompanied with a "i can talk later though" if he's busy at the time.
nonetheless, he's attentive. he's learned to be attentive. and he appreciates that you're respectful of his time and patiently wait for him. in fact, he adores that you wait for him. it comes with this sense of freedom, oddly enough, and it actually makes him want the day to go by faster so he could spend the rest of his free time with you.
suna reassures you no matter how many times you need it
suna has never been as emotionally aware as you are. in fact, he's very very solution focused. things can simply be switched on and off in his brain and there's typically a quick solution that follows any sort of inconvenience or 'odd' feeling.
but he knows you're not the same way. it took him a while to start understanding—that you are not looking for a solution but instead want to be heard and validated first—but he does his best and you're appreciative.
you'll tell him that some days you feel like you have to beg him for his time. you'll tell him that some days you feel as though he's got better things to do. you'll tell him that some days he does things that hurt you even though it isn't his intention to.
and suna listens. he listens to every word and he nods along. he apologizes sincerely and acknowledges the way in which you feel. and, because it's a conversation, he says his piece and reassures you that you're more to him than you think. even beyond the lack of 'label' you two have.
sometimes you feel guilty that these conversations keep coming up—that you feel oddly insecure at times, most especially when he's gone for much longer than usual. it seems a bit needy or 'out of place', too, considering that you two aren't even together for real.
but he tells you, always, that "if you're ever uncertain about something, ask me. i'll always tell you what i think."
and he does, every single time.
suna lets you in more than he does anyone else
perhaps it's the shared experiences, or perhaps it's because you two truly are best friends, but you are the person who knows suna the most.
there are parts of him he hates to let others know about but he's allowed for it to be yours. he's never been great at being vulnerable, but he allows himself to be when he's around you.
maybe it's because he feels safe, too, and he actually has come to appreciate the intimacy of your relationship. it's new—sharing new and seemingly niche experiences with someone—and he's glad it's with you. everything you two share is truly yours and his to share, and something about that makes him feel... a little bit giddy.
it's not to say your relationship is a secret—though neither of you ever talk about it openly—but suna appreciates the space you two have created for each other and share, more than he lets you know.
he once told you, as you two were lazing around in bed doing nothing but doomscrolling on your own phones, "you know me more than anyone right now."
to which you responded, "yeah. i mean, i've even seen you slip butt ass naked in the bathroom."
and he scoffs playfully at your teasing lack of empathy towards his attempt to be vulnerable.
suna loves you but he's just not ready to say it. he knows it's complicated and that it might even be unfair, but it's where he is and you simply just know.
it's a tough situation, one that consistently makes your head hurt; however, his actions for now are enough to keep you grounded. he loves you—clearly—and it's just a matter of time before he finds himself able to say it.
wc: 1.0k
content warning: kinktober day 16 - lingerieeee :PPPP, smut, hubby suna x reader, reader felt frisssky but pretty vanilla, not proofread
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something about today made you feel absolutely compelled to wear your friskiest set of lingerie under your regular boring clothes just to feel a bit mischievous while doing ordinary chores around the house.
well, your husband definitely knew something was up in the air. it was like your shirt was see through our something, he couldn't stop staring at your figure—like your lacey ass bra was making your chest appear differently through your normal fitted tee.
or maybe the way your thong hugged your slit, showing off your curves and plumpness of your ass even better through your short shorts you wore. the way his slender eyes wouldn't keep them off you when you sat on the couch watching tv—showing him the tiniest little opening from the bottom that let him peer at your black lacy undies.
gosh, he felt like he was being teased without even saying a word to you. you were basically some serious eye candy that he couldn't just wait to unwrap and suck on you like a lollipop.
"hey.. why're you so sexy today?" suna surprises you from behind, his arms firming on your waist while his warm lips meet your neck as you're washing the dishes.
"haha. very funny" you huffed at him, trying to finish up the last dish.
"am i just horny orr, something's different with you" his hand starts to linger in opposite ways, with his right reaching lower and left reaching higher.
feeling you through the thin fabric of your clothing, there he's got the answer—the laciness being revealed with a simple touch and sensation that made his heart skip a beat, thinking about ripping your clothes off to see his surprise.
watching you shake the water off your hands, immediately he's picking you up bridal style and scurrying to your bedroom as you gasped his name in shock.
"rin!" you laughed when you realized he was basically gonna take you to pound town the moment he dropped you on the bed and started stripping off his clothes.
tearing his shirt off from his tall stature, suna's revealing his delicious body. lean, flexing with every moment, and of course a small trail that led to his bulging tent in his sweats. he's grinning with sinful intent noticing the way you looked at him with interest.
"you did this on purpose didn't you.. thinking think i wouldn't notice?" your husband whispered in your ear.
his fingers grasp along the hem of your shirt before pulling it up with haste to unveil the sexy piece of lingerie he bought you last week. he's absolutely hard to the max, face flustered as he gulps hard at the sight.
the way the wires of your bra cupped your breasts just perfectly like the way he intended it to be, absolutely tailored to your body. not to mention the way the black lace made it look extra sinful on you, gosh he was ready to rip it off.
"fuck.. you look so good in this" he bit his lower lip admiring his contribution to your underwear collection, "i've got good taste, huh?"
though before he could fully indulge in dripping lust, he's pulling your little tempting short shorts down in one swift motion to show him your cute and seductive thong that covered practically nothing. shit, did he know what he was doing to himself....
"...i might just cum in my pants," he jokes with a hint of truth as he licks his lips.
under him, barely covered up—you can't help but rub your thighs, ready to get absolutely obliterated by his fat cock. you're watching him get fully undressed, pulling down his boxers to reveal his raging erection that burned a fiery red as it sprang about, hit his lower abdomen, smearing a bit of precum onto himself.
in his palm he's got himself stroking along with the sounds of his wet precum being dragged up and down his length. you can't help but watch with complete desire for him to just shove it in and make an absolutely wreck out of you.
"god.. i can't watch anymore" putting your head back down onto the matress, catching his attention, "rin just fuck me already."
you whined with eagerness.. and oh, did he shove it in. suna wasted no time parting your legs open like the red sea and pulling your thong to the side to make room for his bulbous, mushroom-like tip to press and enter while you choke from surprise.
"you're so fucking naughty, y'know that?" suna tsked you off with a finger flicking off your little bundle of nerve.
his full cock was thrusted into you with one big push that made you bury your head way back into the plush sheets, mouth dangling open as your eyes rolled back into their sockets. the stretch was immaculate the moment he started to yank you back up and down on his fat dick.
it burned and stung in the best way possible, and quickly faded into pleasure the moment he was able to find you sweetest spots and get himself into every crack and crevice of your body. damn did he want to see his cum cover all of your little sexy lingerie pieces he picked out—it was like you erupted a primal instinct deep inside him.
his hands were slowly pulling you up by the back of your knees, essentially putting you into a mating press as he continued to piston his cock into your tight little hole repeatedly while your breathing hitched—unable to keep up with suna's great pace.
the faster he went, the thicker the white creamy rim around the circumference the base of his cock got.. and he was going ham, like a man who has never gotten pussy before.
every thrust, your mind kept getting blanker and your view was shortly being washed over with white. when you came back to consciousness, all you saw were your legs being absolutely folded as he continued to rut his bruising cock into your cervix as your back arched off the mattress.
"y'look too pretty to last for so little time...." was all he muttered out before you climaxed once again, and again.
