#;;minty fresh time [ask]

[mintytealfox]

You think that Norton still has lung problems, and would he try to hide it?

ABSOLUTELY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

The illness may have passed and isn't actively killing him anymore but I can see it leaving a weakness there from the damage done ;;

OH OH You know when going up several flights of stairs and you're like, trying not to die via lack of oxygen, but there is someone SUDDENLY coming down the stairs so now you gotta ACT like you aren't bothered and able to BREATHE just FINE!! NORMAL!!! so you start fighting for your life to breathe normal and slow and QUIET as they pass and you wait until they are way out of earshot and THEEENNN you can resume trying to catch your breath LOOOOOL

$20 BUCKS Norton be doing this when he is trying to not be perceived as weak in unsafe situations that require him to seem healthy and fine (but if its around strangers he knows can't hurt him, he gonna cough all he wants lol its gonna make the atmosphere awkward and strange and at a distance how he likes it ;; ) Heck, even when he was in the midst of the illness: coworker: "you're looking awfully ill, Campbell. You sure you aren't gonna retire *soon*, like your dad~?" (aka 'die soon') Norton: *uses every fiber of will in his being to not cough, but looks rough for wear* "I wouldn't say so....I'm in my prime"

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH 😭😭😭😭

[artdcnaldson]

Tie Break || Art Donaldson x Reader ; Patrick Zweig x Reader

this can be read as a sequel to changeover or as a standalone :) enjoy <3

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: SMUT (p in v smut x2, f!recieving oral, handjob, creampie, cum eating), angst with a happy ending, infidelity, toxic relationships, everyone in this is kind of a horrible person, language obviously

Summary: It’s summer in Atlanta, 2011. For the second time in your life, you’re the clear second choice. When the opportunity arises, you find a temporary distraction in Art Donaldson.

A/N: FINALLY here it is! The 2011 Atlanta fic. They’re back, they’re older, they’re even more toxic. Let me know if you’re interested in a part 3!

It was hot, even though the sun had long since dipped beneath the horizon. It was a cloying, oppressive heat that made the stupid, business-casual top you wore stick to your skin. 

The article you were working on was halfway written, something you could knock out in the next hour if you really tried. Your drink was watered down from the heat, weak when it hit your tongue. A frown turned your lips, but you really shouldn’t have been drinking anyway.

"Working late?”

The voice was so familiar that you could’ve recognized it anywhere, any time. Art Donaldson was one of the most recognizable men in the country, but to you, he seemed so different. The boyishness was still there, but it lay beneath a new level of confidence.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to appear nonchalant, like it hadn’t been four years since you last spoke. “I’m on deadline. I’m writing a feature on Anna Mueller heading into the US Open next month.”

Without asking, he sat down across from you at the small bistro table. He was so close you could smell the minty gum he had been chewing. It nearly made you smile. Old habits die hard.

“So you write about tennis?” He asked, meeting your gaze. 

“I write about athletes,” you corrected. “I was going to be here anyway, and since Anna is heading for a Grand Slam, I thought it would be easy enough. Grab a couple of interviews, watch a few matches.”

He nodded, leaning back in the chair, trying his best to be causal in a situation that definitely wasn’t. You sipped again at your drink, peering at him over the edge of the glass. 

“You have a match tomorrow,” you said, as though he needed reminding. “Shouldn’t you be listening to shitty pop punk to get yourself psyched right now?”

A smile spread across his lips, and he looked so much like the guy you knew from college that it made your chest tug uncomfortably. Same hair, the same smile, the same crinkle at the edges of his eyes when he was amused by something. You couldn’t help but smile along with him, like the past four years were nothing. “I don’t do that anymore,” he said with a laugh. “Do you want another drink?”

You looked down at your glass, mostly water and thin ice cubes. “Rum and coke?” You asked, giving him a tiny smile. He nodded and disappeared towards the bar.

It felt strange, sitting there in the quiet, your article the furthest thing from your mind. Four years. It felt like yesterday and an eternity ago that you’d last spoken with him. He was a familiar stranger, nearly unknowable. 

Your cursor blinked a few more times before you shut your laptop and slid it back inside your beat-up work bag. 

“Running off?” He asked, catching you in the act of packing your things. You shook your head and accepted the fresh drink with a smile. “You said you were going to be in Atlanta anyway,” he said as he sat, spreading out, making himself comfortable in the shitty bar seating. “When you were talking about writing about Anna.”

You nodded. “Mhmm, I did,” you replied, chewing the inside of your lip nervously. His gaze was intense, falling just on the other side of casual. You felt tiny under that gaze, like you were guilty of a crime you didn’t know you’d committed. 

“And you’re here for Patrick?” The words were nonchalant, but you could hear the accusation beneath them, the history of the two of them just in one sentence. It turned something in your stomach, the possessiveness in his voice. You could hear it, even four years out.

The new drink was strong, but it was the perfect way to hide the distaste in your expression. The burn of liquor into your chest grounded you back in reality instead of the easy allure of nostalgia. “Yeah,” you said after a beat. “I try my best to go to all of his matches.”

Art narrowed his eyes, just slightly. There was still an element of exaggerated friendliness, the casual smile on his lips, the open body language. All of it masking the lingering resentment and hurt that was buried beneath mountains of nostalgia. Deep enough that neither of you had realized it was still there until you found yourselves face to face. There was an unspoken question, one that he didn’t want to ask, one that you didn’t want to answer. 

How long?

You took another drink. 

“Where is Patrick?” He asked, glancing around like he might materialize out of thin air.

“He went out for a smoke, or to walk around and clear his head, or something,” you said with a shrug. “I’m not his keeper. Where’s Tashi?”

His jaw clenched and he looked away— a sore spot. A scab you wanted to pick at until it bled, dig your nails in. Maybe that was your eighteen-year-old self talking. 

“You never used to let her get too far away from you,” you noted, mirth dripping from each syllable. “Bet you came down here looking for her. Your leash must’ve been just a little too loose this time and she slipped it.”

You took a long drink, nails tapping against the glass as you considered your words. Tashi wasn’t the type of woman who let a man hold her back. If you were trying to be more accurate, rather than just piss him off, you might’ve fixed the analogy. Art was the sad little puppy following her around. She tied his leash to a lamp post for a fucking break.

“Do you remember the day Tashi got injured?” He asked, changing the subject suddenly. 

You blinked slowly, appraising him. But his expression gave nothing away. “I do.”

A wry smile spread across his lips, and he met your gaze with a coldness that you didn’t recognize. Mean in the way injured animals like to snap at the nearest hand. “It was Patrick in your room that night, wasn’t it?”

Your brows furrowed, face falling at his words. “What?”

He made a face, something akin to skepticism, but crueler. It made your stomach turn. 

“You were fucking someone in your room,” he said plainly. “And I’ve always had a suspicion that it was Patrick. Was it?”

That didn’t do much to clear up your confusion. “You were there?”

He laughed, mirthless, and nodded. “I was, uh, sitting by the door like an asshole. I came to apologize, to beg for you back, but instead, I spent the night listening to my girlfriend getting fucked on the other side of the door.”

Annoyance flickered in your gaze. He knew of a wound of your own, and he relished in picking at it the way you’d relished in digging your fingers into his. “I wasn’t your girlfriend, Art.”

“Right, you weren’t. But you’re Patrick’s girlfriend now, is that it?”

Heat burned in your cheeks. Your relationship with Patrick was… tempestuous to say the least. Most of the time he was your boyfriend, but others he was just a friend that you could count on for a good fuck, sometimes not even a friend. At the moment, he was the former, but that could always change.

It wasn’t easy, being with someone whose emotions ran on an equally short fuse. You’d sound too much like his parents, or he’d devalue your work, or Patrick would forget to take out the trash in your apartment and you’d snap, or you’d mispronounce a word one too many times and it would drive him crazy. Insignificant things could feel big with him, because of him. For better or worse. 

“At the moment, yes.”

“At the moment.” He echoed, laughing like he was in on some joke you were painfully unaware of.

”That’s amusing to you?” You asked, raising a brow. 

He shrugged, picking at his jeans. “Your choice of words is interesting.” He lets that hang in the air before he meets your gaze again. “Do you think Patrick would’ve even noticed you if it hadn’t been for me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Does it matter?” You asked. “You realize that we’ve been together going on four years now, right? Broken up, dating, fucking, whatever. You realize that there may be more important things in our life than you?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. I think you know that whatever you have, it’s built on the fact that you were a warm body when he needed it. Just like you were for me.”

That arrogant expression, like he actually fucking knew anything about you anymore was the last straw. You stood suddenly, grabbing your bag. You weren’t Art Donaldson’s little lapdog anymore— you didn’t have to sit there and take all the shit he doled out. 

“Goodnight, Art. Thanks for the drink.”

It was funny, how your weaknesses were still so exposed. Art’s was Tashi, and it probably always would be. His desire to be seen, to impress, painted upon every lovely feature. And yours, raw and bleeding and obvious— the unbearable, visceral need to be wanted.

You made it to the elevator before you felt his presence behind you. Wordless, but so close it was suffocating. You jabbed the up button over and over in frustration, knowing it wouldn’t speed anything up. 

Art stepped into the elevator with you, so close you could feel the body heat radiating off of him. He always burned hot, like a human furnace. 

It was silent as the lift lurched upwards. You pressed against the back corner, watching the number of the floor increase one by one. 

“Patrick is with Tashi,” Art said without looking at you, just as the elevator opened on the floor of your room. You froze, swallowing hard. “I saw them in the hotel bar, then they left together. What do you think they’re doing right now?”

You shook your head dumbly, pulse thrumming in your throat. “Go fuck yourself, Art,” you said weakly, because what else was there to say? You stepped into the hallway— lit with dim yellow light so you couldn’t see where the wallpaper peeled and the carpet was stained.

“If you need somewhere to wait them out, and you will, I’m in room 13 on the seventh floor.” The elevator doors closed, and you were alone. 

The hallway was winding, and you felt a bad sort of anticipation of what you might find, like a sick feeling in your gut. You stood in front of the room, 306, and froze.

The door to your room was closed, no light shone from beneath the door, but you could hear them. Muffled, but clear enough. A pretty voice and breathy moans. Patrick’s laugh, the thud of something falling off the dresser.

Your room key was in your purse— you could’ve gotten it out and stopped it, but what good would that have done? You’d still spend the night humiliated, facing opposite walls as Patrick, lying in the same sheets he’d just fucked her in. 

You dropped the bag by the door and took a slow, shaky breath to calm yourself down. 

Tashi Duncan. She had lingered on the edges of your relationship with Patrick too. She was Patrick’s first choice, just as she’d been Art’s. You’d never blamed them for that, you knew where you stood, and you chose them anyway. 

It was easy to choose them when you thought that the threat was nonexistent— when distance made you feel safe. You could hear her and him, but it felt like mere static in your brain.

You knew how Art felt, back at Stanford. Sulking outside the door, unable and unwilling to stop what was happening on the other side. 

You were in the elevator before you realized you’d walked away. Shitty soft rock played over the speakers, and a poster on the wall advertised a continental breakfast. Your stomach turned uncomfortably. 

You knocked on the door— room thirteen, an unlucky number. Maybe it didn’t bode well. As you waited for the door to open, your nails tapped a staccato rhythm against your thigh.

Art opened the door like he’d been expecting someone else. Maybe he had half-expected you to interrupt and send Tashi back upstairs, but no. He got you standing at his door with fiery eyes and an expectant expression. 

Second choice, second choice, second choice.

Art kissed you for the first time in four years, and you let him. Not because you wanted to hurt Patrick or Tashi, but because you knew it would hurt you. His tongue pressed between the seam of your lips like he belonged there, licking into your mouth like he wanted to reclaim every part of you that Patrick had touched. You pushed him with a firm hand on his chest and he stumbled backward into the room. Despite everything, he smiled. 

His hotel room was nearly identical to yours and Patrick’s. But you didn’t have time to really take in the details when he had his tongue in your mouth, kissing you hungrily.

That afternoon, you kissed Patrick after he lost his match. You wondered if Art could still taste him on your tongue then, if he wanted to drown out the taste of him. 

It was different than you were used to. Four years with Patrick meant that you’d grown accustomed to certain ways that he did things— the intensity behind each kiss, each touch. His emotions— good, bad, in between— were never masked, never repressed. 

When Patrick kissed you, when he touched you, when he fucked you— both of you were laid completely bare. 

Art was different. When he kissed you it was through a certain level of performance, like he’d learned how from a searing romance film. In college, you’d believed that he kissed you like that because deep down, he did love you. Even at that moment, years out from your relationship with him, it muddled your brain.

Your sensible work heels had long since been kicked off by the door. Art’s fingers undid the button and zip of your jeans deftly, with a confidence that had only doubled since Freshman year. They wound up in a heap against the hotel dresser. 

In his haste to remove your (also sensible, and very business casual) button-down, he popped about half of the buttons off completely. 

“Sorry,” he said. The grin on his lips made you wonder if sorry was really how he felt. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Stop talking.” You pulled off your bra and lost it somewhere across the room in your haste. Art was pulling off his clothes— his hoodie and the shirt beneath. His jeans and shoes toed off and left to be dealt with later. 

He kissed you again, guiding you exactly where he needed. Your knees hit the back of the mattress and he eased you down without moving his lips from yours. When your head hit the sheets, you smelled perfume so sweet that it was nearly intoxicating. You turned your head, breathing deeply. Tashi. In this same bed, in this same spot. It made something stir inside you— right in your chest. A hint of wrongness, a hint of hurt. 

Art pulled back, moving his lips along your jaw, down to the junction of your throat. 

“Stop thinking,” he murmured against your skin, kissing down to your tits. “I don’t want you thinking about Patrick. Not when you’re with me.”

The words were mumbled against soft, supple skin. His eyes were intent as they looked up at you, the demand of momentary fidelity in his eyes. You wanted to slap that expression off of his face, or run your thumb along his cheek and hold his face in your hands. 

How was it fair that he asked you that when he’d lingered like a ghost on the edges of whatever it was that you and Patrick had? How was it fair for him to look at you like that?

He took a nipple into his mouth and you gasped as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin. Soft kisses before he suckled softly. “Okay,” you gasped, lying through your teeth. “I’m only thinking of you.”

His hair was still long, kept the same way he wore it in school. Your fingers tangled in his hair like muscle memory, scratching against his scalp as he kissed along your skin with wet lips, treating your other breast with the same, hungry attention.

“Still so fucking hot,” he mumbled against your skin. “Should’ve— fuck— should’ve kept you. What do you want, huh? Tell me.”

Your mind swam with possibilities, but you didn’t even know where to begin. Your mind was stuck on his previous words. Should’ve kept you. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?  “I don’t know,” you replied, completely honest. “Whatever you want.”

He accepted that easily— it was so similar to how you’d been for him in college. You gasped as he kissed down your sternum, then your stomach. His lips found the waistband of your panties and he grinned, tugging at the lace with his teeth, letting it snap back against your hip. 

He peeled your panties down slowly, letting his hands trail down the expanse of your legs. The possessiveness of the touch sent a thrill up your spine. His lips grazed along your skin, from your ankle, up your calf, then your knee. Your legs spread instinctively, welcoming him right back where he knew he belonged. His pretty lips trailed wet kisses up your thighs, stopping just where you wanted him. 

You expected him to rush. He’d seen Patrick and Tashi leave, which meant they’d finish before you two, more likely than not. There was every reason in the world to make things quick— to fuck you and make you leave. 

Instead, he took his time with you. Soft, teasing kisses peppered on the supple skin of your thighs before he nuzzled into your cunt. The first delve of his tongue was slow and exploratory, tasting the arousal that had pooled at your core. 

”God, you still taste so fucking sweet.”

Another thing you’d nearly forgotten about Art— in all things, he was methodical.

He started with kitten licks at your clit— light brushes with his tongue that made you whimper needily for more. His tongue circled you there, and he relished in the way your fingers tugged on his hair at the sensation. 

Then he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking with more pressure until a strangled moan squeezed past your lips. Your thighs tensed on either side of his head, holding him there as he alternated between slow, soothing licks and firm suction.

It was frustrating, how wet you were. Art had brought out the worst in you, turned you into something that left you feeling genuinely embarrassed. And still, you were slick, dripping down to the sheets. A mess of arousal and Art’s spit. 

When he eased a finger into your cunt, it slid in like your body was made to fit whatever he could give you. At that point, you very well could have been. What were you, if not an object orbiting in the atmosphere of his life?

He looked up at you, seeming so fucking intent on making it feel good for you as he crooked his finger. It rubbed against the soft, spongy spot within you and you cried out, eyes rolling back. 

“That’s it, huh?” He cooed as he pressed a second finger inside of you. Your arm was slung over your face. You couldn’t let yourself keep looking at him when he was looking at you the same way he had in college. The same fucking expression that got your head all mixed up in the first place. 

He pressed a soft kiss to your clit and you whimpered. “I know it feels good, baby, just relax.”

His fingers thrust within you with a slow, deep pressure as he continued to make out with your clit. It was always so good with him— you’d nearly forgotten how easy it was for him to bring you to the edge. 

When you came, it wasn’t like what you had grown used to with Patrick— sudden and overwhelming, like it had been ripped from some secret place within you. It was intense, but slow to build, seeming to last forever as Art’s fingers and tongue worked you through it. Your breath was shaky as he pulled back, pretty mouth wet with your arousal.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, looking up at you expectantly. 

You should’ve stopped— rationally, you knew that it was best to turn back and quit before you fucked up the situation beyond repair. 

But it was Art. He could’ve had anyone else, but he wanted you. Maybe not forever, or even longer than that night. But for then. 

You shook your head softly. “No. Do you think we should stop?”

His fingers moved between your thighs, circling your clit. “We definitely should. You’re with Patrick.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering as he caressed you with featherlight touches. “Don’t fucking talk about him,” you said, but your words came out with no bite. How could they, when he was playing with your body like a favorite toy?

“No?” He asked. He was wearing a smug sort of expression. “You don’t want me to talk about your boyfriend, huh? Too personal?”

You moaned as he applied more pressure at the apex of your thighs, making your cunt clench and ache to be filled. 

“Does Patrick know how much you’ve missed me?” He asked. Your breath caught in your throat, and he just smiled. “I bet he does. I think he knows that if he just drops my name in a conversation, your pussy gets wet.”

You moaned softly at his words, chest heaving with soft pants. You weren’t even sure if it was true, but it felt like it could’ve been then. He leaned down, his words spoken close to your ear.

“I can go slow. Make it last for you.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear, making you shiver. 

You nodded eagerly, turning your head to capture his lips with yours. The kiss was slow, like you had all the time in the world. His tongue against yours, the weight of his body on top of you, the feel of him hard, pressing against your thigh. 

He sat back to strip off his boxers, and you relished in the sight of him laid bare before you. You’d nearly forgotten how pretty he was— big and flushed nearly red with need. It made your heart hammer with nerves; your excitement and shame and need rolled into one messy, electrifying tangle. 

His hair flopped into his eyes as he held himself over you, just like you remembered. You reached up, brushing it out of his eyes with a tender hand. His lips brushed against the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse thrummed in your veins. 

“Tell me you’ve missed me.”

Heat flooded your entire body, as you repeated the words. “I missed you, Art.” You reached between your bodies, wrapping your hand around his cock, and guiding it towards your entrance. He moaned and bucked instinctively into your hand.

”Tell me you want me to fuck you, no one else.” You could hear the implications in his words. Tell me you want me, not Patrick. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

Art pressed himself inside of you, sinking into the welcoming warmth of your cunt. You wrapped your legs around his waist, squeezing him closer, deeper, until his balls pressed firm against you and there was nothing else to give.

He thrust shallowly, rocking against a spot deep within you, one that made your eyes flutter with each brush against it.

“You’re so tight still,” he moaned, lips moving against your throat. “Pussy’s made just for me.”

He touched you like he hadn’t forgotten how you felt or what you needed. Spoke to you like you were one of his possessions.

You lost yourself in it— the sweet, filthy words spoken against your skin, and the rhythm of his body moving against yours. His lips captured yours with a hungry insistence, like he could convey four years' worth of unspoken words with a few brushes of his tongue against yours. 

When he pulled back, lips spit slick and looking so pretty, you thought maybe there was a sort of understanding between the two of you.

His head fell back as he sped up his thrusts, chasing his release. There wasn’t time to stretch it out, to spend as much time as you could with each other’s bodies. 

“Need you to cum,” he said, sliding a hand between your thighs to rub your still-sensitive clit. Your cunt was squeezing him tight, body aching for it, for him, brought to the edge simply because he’d asked for it. “C’mon— you get so tight when you cum, need to feel it again.”

It was like your body was hardwired to give him exactly what he wanted. You came with broken moans of his name and legs squeezing him closer, deeper. Your chest heaved with shaking breaths and punched out whimpers as he kept fucking into you.

He was practically crushing you with his weight, pinning you down, groaning into the junction of your shoulder. 

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” his words vibrated against skin tacky with a thin sheen of sweat.

”Want you to.” Your arms slung around his back, holding him close to you. “I’ve got an IUD, so you can— you can cum.”

His lips met yours as he came, with a pretty moan into your open mouth and slow, messy kisses that made you want to just melt into him and stay that way forever. 

Spent, he rolled over and turned on a lamp at the bedside. The alarm clock announced the time in a dim red glow— five past one.

You lay there, damp between your thighs from the mixture of your releases, unsure of what to do. It was cold beneath the hotel AC. He was peering over at you, wearing an expression you were scared to dissect.

When his hand touched your arm, you nearly flinched. Your breath caught in your throat as he ran his thumb along your skin, so sweetly that you felt that same discomfort tug at your chest. 

“C’mere,” he said, an offer. His arm was splayed over the pillows, giving you the perfect spot to lie down and press yourself against his side. To pretend like you belonged there.

But you didn’t belong there. You belonged four floors down with Patrick. That’s where you had belonged for four years. The reality of what you’d done had set in quickly, and you knew you needed to get out of Art’s room. 

”Art,” you said softly, shaking your head. “I have to go.”

He nodded and sat up against the headboard. You watched him grab his boxers and pull them back on, a strange smile on his face. He must’ve sensed your confusion, even without you saying. 

“It’s funny how things change,” he said. “Here I am, asking you to stay for once.”

You didn’t say anything as you picked up your clothes from around the room, redressing as you recovered each piece from its hiding spot around the room. Your shirt was unsalvageable, so you grabbed Art’s. He had plenty of brand sponsors that would jump to replace it, and Patrick wouldn’t recognize it.

“I loved you, I think,” he said suddenly. “Back in college.”

You froze, arms crossed over your chest as you looked at him. “Art—“

“No, I did. I loved you, I just did it all wrong.”

“Art, just stop,” you said firmly. Embarrassment hit you all at once— the guilt of what you’d done, and the shame over who you’d done it with. Your eyes stung as you looked at him. “Why the fuck would you say that?”

His lips twitched, dipping into a frown, then back into as close to a neutral expression as he could manage. “I just thought you should know. It’s only fair.”

You laughed mirthlessly. “Fair? Jesus Christ, you really haven’t changed, Art.” 

His expression fell completely. It looked like it had back in the hotel bar— icy. “I haven’t changed? What’s that supposed to mean?”

You sighed as you looked at him. “It means that if this were Stanford, that would’ve made me crawl right back into bed, lay by your side, and daydream about what it could mean for us. If one day I might be Mrs. Art Donaldson. It means that you say these sweet things to me every time you can feel me slipping away, but they mean absolutely nothing. We’re not nineteen anymore, Art. I’m not leaving Patrick to be your plaything again.”

His jaw tensed, and he looked down at the bed briefly while he picked at loose threads on the sheets. “You think that’s what I want?”

You frowned. “I think you want what Patrick has.”

He scoffed. “Patrick doesn’t even want what he has,” he said, relishing in the wounded look on your face. “If he did, he wouldn’t be fucking my fiancée right now.”

Fiancée. You felt stupid for not knowing it, but you swallowed down your hurt and met his gaze. “I guess we’re both going to have to be content with being the second choice.” You slipped on your shoes and went for the door. “Good luck with your match tomorrow, Art. I sincerely hope that I never have to see you again.”

The hallway felt colder when you stepped outside of the room and shut the door firmly behind you. A very big part of you wanted to go back, to knock and apologize and grovel like you might have when you were a freshman.

Maybe you hadn’t grown up that much after all. 

The elevator was playing Billy Joel. You leaned against the side of the elevator, relishing in the cold against your sticky skin. When the doors opened on your floor and you stepped out, you blinked in surprise. 

Tashi stood in front of you for the first time since college, looking just as stunning as you remembered, probably more so. Her hair was pulled up, slightly damp at the ends. Her eyes flicked down to your shirt, Art’s shirt, you swallowed as an understanding passed between the two of you— wordless, because what was there to say at that point?

”You left your laptop in the hallway,” she said, skipping formalities. “I took it inside so it wouldn’t get stolen.”

“Okay,” you said, chewing on your lip. She stood there like she expected something more. You felt her surveying you, and froze as she reached forward and rubbed at your bottom lip.

“He could’ve at least cleaned you up a bit,” she said. Her fingers delicately fixed your hair, tucking it back into place. She wiped a smudge of lipstick from the side of your mouth. Once there was nothing left to fix, she looked at you one last time and nodded. “You should be fine now.”

Before you could process that, she stepped into the elevator, and you were left alone in the hallway. When you made it to the room, the door was cracked open, so you let yourself in.

Patrick was on the balcony smoking a cigarette, a towel slung low around his waist. The bed was a fucking wreck, not that he seemed to mind. 

When the door clicked shut, he stubbed out the cigarette he was smoking and joined you back in the room. 

“Are we going to talk about it?” He asked. His jaw tensed as he looked at you, like he was ready if you were going to start a fight.

“I just want to go to bed, Patrick,” you said, annoyed by how wobbly and pathetic you sounded. 

He stepped forward and kissed your forehead. “Okay. We’ll go to bed.”

You kicked off your clothes, but left on Art’s hoodie. Patrick didn’t ask where it came from, or what happened to what you were wearing earlier. You knew he already knew, that he could tell the moment you walked in. He dropped the towel onto a heap on the floor, climbed into the bed, and held out his arms for you.

A stronger person would’ve told him to fuck off, but you weren’t a stronger person. You nestled into his side and felt the hot sting of tears in your eyes. 

He rubbed your back soothingly and kissed your forehead. The sheets smelled like Tashi, he smelled like hotel soap, and you smelled like Art’s cologne. 

“Do you want room service in the morning?” He asked softly.

“Patrick—“

“I’m serious. We can have breakfast in bed, do some tourist-y shit, maybe we’ll go watch a couple of matches, then come back and—“

“Are we supposed to just forget what happened?” You interrupted.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.” He kissed your forehead, tender, sweet. “I’ll tell you everything if that’s what you want.”

You met his gaze. “Do you… do you want to know? About Art?”

He went quiet as he played with the ends of your hair. “Did it make you feel any better?” He finally asked. 

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Then it didn’t.”

He kissed the crown of your head. “No?”

You shook your head, sighing softly as his kisses trailed down, over your nose, to the sides of your mouth. “No. It was a mistake.”

”Tell me about it,” he said, murmuring against your jaw. “Tell me how he touched you.”

You shivered, tilting your head to give him more access. Your nails scratched softly against his scalp as he sucked bruises onto your throat. 

“He was desperate,” you said, heart hammering as you began recounting it to Patrick— your boyfriend. There was no world in which he should’ve wanted to hear about it… and yet. He moaned against your throat, encouraging you, wanting to know more. “Kissed me like he wanted to taste you in my mouth, like he wanted to overpower you.”

Patrick moved his lips to yours, kissing you with a sloppy brush of his tongue against yours. “Like that?”

You shook your head and leaned in, deepening the kiss with slow laps of your tongue into his mouth. He moaned softly, matching your pace in a way that was rare, but made butterflies dance around in your stomach. He pulled you on top of him— hands roaming from the backs of your thighs to squeeze your ass as he deepened the kiss. It was just as slow and sweet as before, but you could sense the need and hunger behind it.

You pulled back, just enough to remove your lips from his. Both of your breaths came in needy pants. You weren’t sure why you were enjoying this, but you were, so you kept going. “He took off my clothes, and laid me down on the bed.”

Patrick moaned, chasing your lips. You sat back and just looked at him— lying there with still-damp curls, his pupils blown with lust. His cock was hard, resting against his stomach, precum beading at the tip.

You pulled off Art’s hoodie and tossed it across the room, relishing in the way Patrick’s eyes raked over every bit of exposed skin like it was the first time he’d seen it. “He ate me out, made me cum on his fingers first, then again while he was inside of me,” Patrick’s breath caught, just for a moment. Desire, or jealousy, or both flickered across his gaze. “He fucked me like he wanted me to fall in love with him again.”

Patrick’s chest was heaving as you moved a hand between your bodies, grasping his cock in your hand, stroking slowly. “Is that how you fucked Tashi? Like you wanted her to pick you instead of her fiancé?” He moaned as your thumb ran over his slit, smearing the precum that had begun to dribble out. 

“No,” He groaned. You nodded encouragingly, squeezing him tighter in your fist. “Fuck. I fucked her like I wanted her to know she made a mistake. Made her cum until she tapped out”

You ran a thumb over his bottom lip, tugging slightly. “With this pretty mouth, huh?” He nodded, wordlessly. “And with this?” You gave a slow stroke of his dick, making him buck up into your fist. Another nod. 

“Show me.”

Patrick’s brows furrowed in disbelief. “Show you?”

You nodded and continued stroking him. “I told you about Art, so I want you to show me how you fucked Tashi.”

You recognized the fucking insanity of what you were asking, but you didn’t care. It was a strange form of closure— closing the circle, or whatever. 

“Fuck, okay. Lay back,” he said, patting your thigh. You slid off his lap and settled atop the sheets, watching him expectantly. 

His fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties, and he slid them down slowly. “Fuck.” Your cheeks flooded with heat as he held the sodden fabric up, wet and sticky with Art’s cum. He groaned and hooked your thighs over his shoulders. “That’s… god, that’s really fucking hot, baby.”

Oh. The mix of embarrassment and desire was something new— burning hot in the pit of your stomach as Patrick licked at your pussy, tasting the evidence of your arousal mingling with Art’s release. He moaned against you, holding you so tightly that his fingers dimpled your thighs. 

His tongue lapped at your entrance, pushing into your cunt as deep as he could manage, then back to licking at your clit. It was messy— a combination of spit and cum and your juices.

“Fuck!” You cried out, tugging his hair as he sealed his lips around your clit. He moaned loudly against you, encouraging you to do it again, the fucking masochist. 

He redoubled his efforts, pulling you closer, moaning against your cunt. It was like he wanted to devour you, to lick up every bit of Art that was left inside of you. You wanted him to try— you wanted him to replace every part of Art that was left in your body and soul.

“Patrick,” you gasped. He murmured an mhmm against your pussy. Eyes closed, right at home between your thighs, lost in the taste of you. “Need you inside.”

He planted one, two sloppy kisses to your clit before he pulled back, his lips shiny with your arousal. He wiped the mess away with the back of his hand, smirking down at you. “You need me, huh?”

You nodded, chest heaving with each panting breath. Patrick sat down at the headboard and patted his thigh. “Prove it.”

You sat up, crawling up the bed until you were straddling his lap. “You made her do all the work?” 

He laughed, running his hands up your thighs to squeeze your ass, tug you closer. “I didn’t make her do anything.” Patrick had a hand wrapped around his cock, and you moaned softly as he guided it between your thighs to notch at your entrance. 

You sank down slowly, forehead pressed against his as you took inch after inch. “Fuck,” you breathed. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his as you gave a slow roll of your hips. “Fuck. You’re so deep, Pat. Feels so good.”

His head fell back against the headboard as you began to ride him in earnest. “Fuck, just like that,” he groaned, still wearing that fucking smirk, even balls deep inside of you. “That’s it, baby, take what you need.”

And you did. The way he was looking at him was proof enough, he was eating up every fucking second of you fucking yourself on him, using him like a toy. 

Your noises were near-pornographic— Right there, fuck, you’re so big baby, so fucking deep.

The poor soul next door slammed on the wall, begging for you to just shut the fuck up. Patrick silenced you with a hungry kiss— a mess of tongues and spit. His fingers moved on your clit, pulling you towards the edge with desperate need. 

“Close,” you gasped. 

He nodded, moving his fingers faster. “I know you are. I’ve got you.” 

You collapsed on top of him as you came— hips canting weakly as he worked you through it. He thrust up into your tight walls, groaning at the feeling of your cunt spasming around his cock. 

“Fuck, you feel so perfect,” he groaned, burying his face into the junction of your throat. “Gonna cum— fuck—“

You moaned softly at the feeling of him spilling inside of you— the soft pulse of him, the warmth of his cum flooding your cunt. You stayed on his lap, kissing his freckled nose, his eyelids, his mouth. 

When you finally moved off of him, you whimpered at that loss of fullness, and of the slick mess seeping out between your thighs. If you were smart, you would’ve gone and cleaned up, but there was nothing more you wanted than to lay there in Patrick’s arms and fall asleep. 

Whatever. You’d leave housekeeping a very generous tip. He sighed contentedly as you lay there— like you were made to fit against him perfectly.  A warm hand rubbed comforting circles on your back, and you felt so at home, even in an Atlanta hotel. 

“I love you, you know that?” He asked.

You looked up and nodded. “I know. I love you too.”

You found yourself staring up over at Patrick with a stupid, persistent smile on your face. He turned to watch you watching him, wearing a matching grin on his face. It was hard to tell who started laughing first— you or Patrick. At the absurdity of it all, at yourselves. 

“God, we’re so messed up,” you said, with another laugh.

He nodded. “Really messed up, but whatever. Apparently your brain isn’t even fully developed until you’re 25.”

“Great, so we have one more year until we’re normal, rational adults.” He laughed, holding you against his chest. 

He reached over and kissed your forehead. You were so sticky and gross that you really needed a shower, but, again— it was a tomorrow problem.

It fell quiet, and you could feel yourself slipping into comfortable drowsiness when Patrick finally spoke up. “Are we going to be okay?”

You blinked slowly. With your hand resting on his chest, you could feel his heart thudding just beneath your palm.

When you were twenty, you met Patrick’s parents. Crowded into his childhood bed with your head resting against his chest, his heart pounded as he apologized for the intense grilling you’d received that night at dinner. It was the first time you ever felt like his bravado had been shaken, like you were seeing through to the core of him. 

You always knew you would be the one to say you loved him first— it was just the way things went. “I don’t care if they like me,” you had assured him. “I love you.” His heart beat harder, faster. He didn’t say it back until two days later, when he was fucking you in that very same bed— forehead to yours, skin sticky with sweat. “I love you,” breathed into your mouth like air. 

When you were twenty-two, you moved into an apartment in Manhattan and Patrick followed like a housecat— no rent, no job, just company and a mouth to feed. The tour wasn’t going well, and you were working for a shitty, clickbait news site that hardly covered the cost of your place. 

Things were good, mostly. Comfortable, domestic. Patrick tried to be a good boyfriend, you tried to be a good girlfriend. Both of you were trying to figure out what that meant for the other as best as you could. Patrick would bring you flowers from the corner store and take you out for drinks and dancing on weekends. You’d drive out on holidays to visit his family and wind up leaving early to go back to the comforts and peace of your apartment. 

When you could, you’d follow him out to tournaments. If he won, he’d take you out with the prize money. If he lost, you’d take him back to the hotel to cheer him up.

On rough days, one of you would come home to the apartment and pick a fight over laundry, or a dish left in the sink, or even what he’d left on TV, and the other would give it back tenfold. Your neighbors would beat on their walls in annoyance as you yelled at each other, until one of you slammed a door and sulked in another room for a few hours, or you had make-up sex that gave the neighbors another reason to bang on their walls. 

The breakups were infrequent but severe. You’d kick Patrick out, he’d live out of his car, or in a motel, or fuck off to some tennis tournament that you’d previously promised to go to. One of you always broke first, returning to the other with promises of love, and to do better.

You did love each other, really. And things usually got better. It was just easy to live with your feelings dialed up to a ten where Patrick was involved: bigger good moments, worse bad ones. 

Your career had vastly improved. Patrick had moved up in the rankings, only slightly, but it was something. You could afford a bigger apartment in a nicer area, maybe get a dog. And you didn’t just want those things alone, you wanted them with him. 

You pressed a kiss to the center of his chest and nodded. “We’ll be fine,” you assured. It felt like the truth.

He nodded, looking down at you. His freckles were so much more pronounced after tournament after tournament in the blazing sun. “Yeah, probably.”

The next morning, you both got the continental breakfast you’d seen in the elevator while housekeeping dealt with the aftermath of the previous night. You did tourist-y shit— went to a museum, found a nice spot for lunch.

At the end of the day, you sat in the oppressive Atlanta heat with Patrick and watched Art Donaldson win his tennis match. You and Patrick left early, fucked in the backseat of his car, and decided to head home early. 

As you started the drive back, you held his hand over the center console and listened to a shitty mix CD with songs he’d ripped off of LimeWire. You gave him shit when Kelly Clarkson followed Lil Wayne, but you both sang along to every fucking word. 

You were right. You and Patrick would probably be fine.

[girlbeyondthegrave]

There's a lot of conversations about how the ship being filled with mouthwash is meant to be a commentary about capitalism and the way workers are often broken down to produce luxury items for the upper class, but I'd also like to add that JIMMY himself IS mouthwash.

At face value, mouthwash is great. It cleans out icky bacteria and leaves you with minty fresh breath. It is helpful. However, it is also dangerous. As Anya says, the sugar contents rule out the possibility of it being a disinfectant, while someone less knowledgeable on the topic may read the alcohol contents and mistake it as a viable alternative. Ingesting large amounts can a) make you drunk; b) make you sick; or c) kill you.

At face value, Jimmy is an okay guy. He's been with the company a long time, and has now worked his way up to co-pilot. Sure, he doesn't do his psych evaluations, but surely someone making silly jokes is harmless, right?

While it makes the most sense for Anya to notice that mouthwash cannot be a detergent as a nurse, she is also the only person that has experienced the threat Jimmy can pose to someone's safety while still being able to talk about it. Curly knows who Jimmy is now, but doesn't have the means to tell anyone. She is the most qualified to both see what mouthwash really is and who Jimmy really is, which is why she talks to Swansea and gives a cryptic speech from behind the medical room's door, knowing that Diasuke can hear it and hoping he will ask Swansea about what she meant.

Every time a crew member gets too close to Jimmy, they are damaged by their dynamic with him. Anya was sexually assaulted and pregnant when she ultimately decided the best way to take control back was to end her life. Curly is disfigured, missing limbs, in constant agony--he is frozen in that state. He will not wake up peacefully. Daisuke is manipulated by Jimmy and is injured. Swansea kills him to end his suffering, this boy who was so kind and warm and young. Swansea killed a man barely of age so he wouldn't end up in drawn out agony like Curly. He confessed that he knew who Jimmy really was, and he paid the price with his life.

Jimmy keeps saying he's going to fix things, but he makes them worse. He is not disinfectant. He does not heal. He does not protect. He is mouthwash. He hurts you slowly. He ruins your insides. If you aren't too careful, he'll kill you.

But hey, at least your breath is minty fresh, right?

[mavsstar]

𝑀𝑦 𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑃𝑒𝑎

Summary ︱Mr. Levinson lives right next door to you, the sweet, innocent college girl. Little do you know that you're Mr. Levinson's favorite neighbor. He's there every chance you need the slightest of help, maybe a little too much.

Pairings︱Mechanic!Ari Levinson x Innocent!Fem!Reader, Robert Pronge x Innocent!Fem!Reader

W.C︱4k

Warnings︱18+ MINORS DNI, Trailer Park AU, it's pretty tame for right now, pet names (Sweet Pea),cursing, reader is scared of Pronge, masturbation (m!) and I think that is all the warnings. Let me know if I missed any!

Author's note︱I am very excited for this series :) This is set around the 90s just because I feel like it fits better with the idea I have going on in my head. It has been awhile since I've written anything so I'm hoping it's not too terrible. I hope you will enjoy this! Feedback is appreciated! Follow my side blog and turn on post notifications :D

“Did you see Mr. Levinson today?” your Mother’s friend, Valerie, asked while wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Nope,” you instantly responded. “Have you?” 

“Already got my dose of that sexy man.” She smirked while winking at you. 

Ari Levinson towered everyone he’s ever met. He stood at a proud 6'6. It was hard to miss the luscious brown locks that fell over his face and the cerulean blue eyes that you could never find your way out of. His beard adorned his jaw and hid the pump rose colored lips he held.

Even when he was doused in motor oil and dirt he was still a beautiful man. He was your neighbor and very well known at the trailer park. Ari was a woman’s walking wet dream come to life. 

“He’s already up?” you asked as your eyes bulged out of your head. “It’s like 6 in the morning.” 

“Of course he’s up, he’s having his morning coffee.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Only you would know that stalker.”

“It’s not stalking Y/N, it's called being an astute observer,” she retorted. “That’s besides the point, shouldn’t you be heading out by now?” 

“I should be but…” you started to answer, looking out the window cautiously, “I have a feeling you know who is outside.”

“If you don’t leave now you’ll be late for work which by the way is in 20 minutes,” she reminded you, pointing towards the clock. 

“Please don’t remind me.” You internally groaned as you threw your head back and rubbed your eyes. 

After a few moments you finally decided to lift yourself from the couch and head your way out. Goosebumps arose on your arms as you opened the front door. You hated this kind of weather, you couldn’t be without a sweater in the morning but by 3pm you’d be sweating like a dog. You shrugged on your brother's jacket, not bothering to zip it up and closed the front door.

Just as you predicted, the person you dreaded seeing most was standing right outside, Mr. Pronge. 

Robert Pronge was your neighbor and lived right across from you. Ever since you moved in he formed the bad habit of staring at you and hitting on you like there’s no tomorrow. From what you heard he was a sick sadistic bastard who liked to torture girls with pleasure. He’s had many lovers enter the trailer but seemingly none of them come back.  

You didn’t like the way he makes you feel. It felt like a hungry lion stalking its predator, ready to pounce at any moment’s notice. At the same time you couldn’t help but feel hot. Everytime he was near you, your heart raced from the fear and you felt a pulse in between your legs. 

“Morning Princess!” Mr. Pronge called out from his front lawn.

“Good morning Mr. Pronge!” You greeted back but only to be polite. You tried to avoid looking too much at him and instead looked towards the ground. 

You heard shoes beating against the ground and you prayed with all your heart that it was someone else running. Luck was not on your side that morning. When you looked up it was the one and only Mr. Pronge. 

“Where are you going Princess?” he asked. His breath was minty fresh even though his appearance would say otherwise. 

“To work,” you bluntly replied, trying to open your car door. 

“Aw Princess, don’t be like that,” he cooed. Once you did get your car door open, he immediately slammed it closed, almost smashing your finger in the process. “I’ll give you a ride. Come on, let's go.” 

“I appreciate the offer Mr. Pronge but I can take myself,” you insisted while attempting to reopen your car door. 

“Princess…” he warningly said.

Mr. Pronge didn’t like it when people told him no. The word no did not exist in his world. 

“I said I’ll give you a ride.” 

“Leave her alone Robert!” Ari yelled from his porch, causing the both of you to turn around. “She’s probably late for work!” 

Mr. Pronge sighed as he stepped back in defeat. “I’ll take you next time Princess.” 

You internally groaned at his comment. He could never leave you alone. Every morning he would play this game with you. On the bright side, you were one of the very few people allowed to tell him no and get away with it. 

“Thank you Mr. Levinson!” you yelled as you got in the car. 

“Anytime!” Ari walked over to Robert after you drove off. Though his eyes never peeled off from you the entire time. 

“You’re always in my way,” Robert playfully commented. 

Ari chuckled at the jab. Ari always had to save you from him every morning without fail. “Rob, how many times have I told you to leave the poor girl alone?” He asked as he brought his cup of coffee to his lips. 

“I will never leave her alone,” he answered with a proud smirk. “Not until I make her mine.” 

“Oh please! You’re old!” Ari jabbed at him. “She’s going to want a hot 20 year old guy not some 40 year old.” 

“Her father was not present in her life.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?!” Ari asked, confused at Robert’s statement.

“The girl has major daddy issues, Ari,” Robert said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “All I gotta do is caress her a bit, say sweet nothings in her ear and bam! She will fall in love with me.”

“Do that and she will call the cops on you.” 

“I’d like to see her try,” Robert remarked as he crossed his arms across his chest. “Besides, why do you care?” 

“Because her mother is really starting to get concerned and-” 

“Oh that's why you’re concerned!” Robert hooted. “You want to fuck the mom!” 

“I do not want to have sex with her mom,” Ari declared with a serious tone. “The woman is stressed enough and I feel bad for her and I feel bad for the girl. I see her peek her head out of the door every morning to avoid you.” 

“Ari?” 

“Yes Rob?” 

“Mind your business.” 

The following morning was the same dreadful routine. You were trying to stall, not wanting to face Mr. Pronge though you knew he would be there. He always was. Even when you would try to leave at an earlier time. It’s like he would sleep there and wait for you. 

 Your mother shoved your car keys in your hand. “Sweetie, you need to go now before you’re late.”

“But what if he’s out there?” you asked with a slight hint of fear. 

“Is he still bothering you?!” she questioned, her overprotectiveness coming out. “I’ve had enough, I’m going out there.” 

“No! No! No!” you instantly said, jolting your hands out to stop her from taking another step. “Please don’t say anything. Mom please!” 

Your pleads were granted. She stayed still as she squinted at the window, sending a silent threat to Mr. Pronge.

“Fine,” she said. “But If I hear or even get the feeling, I’m going to rip his nutsack and his stupid smirk off of him.” 

“Wow,” you said with your eyes bulging out in shock.

“Sweetie, you’re too nice and a little bit–how can I put this?” she sarcastically questioned herself as she tilted her head to the side. “Oh yeah, you’re naive.” 

“I am not naive,” you muttered under your breath, offended. 

“Yes you are,” she said as she was walking out of the living room. “Now go to work!” 

You grabbed your bag from the couch and swung it over your shoulder. Your hand went on the doorknob, turning it to open the door. You peek your head out to see if you’re one and only was out there waiting for you. 

“He’s not there Sweet Pea!” Ari exclaimed. “You’re safe, you can come out!” 

“Thanks!” you yelled from the door, fully stepping out. You confidently walked over to your car, happy Mr. Pronge wasn’t outside to terrorize you. Your happiness was soon cut off when you saw a complete flat tire. 

“Dang it!” you cursed to yourself. You peered down at your watch, it was 6:41 A.M. You were trying to calculate how much time it would take to go on the bus and you heard the dreadful sound of boots hitting the road. 

“Oh no,” you internally whined. 

“Got a flat, Princess?” Mr. Pronge sarcastically asked. “I’ll give you a ride.”

Ari quickly stepped in. “Robert no.” You didn’t even hear him walk over to you. You looked at Ari in shock and sent a cry for help at the same time. “Leave her alone.” 

“She needs a ride, I’m giving her a ride. What is the problem?” he challenged, taking a step closer to him. 

“You’re not taking her.” 

Robert straightened his back and puffed his chest out. “And why not?” 

“Because I’m taking her. She was just getting something from her car.” Ari grabbed your bag from your hand and placed his hand on your lower back. “Lets go Sweet Pea,” he said as he guided you to his car, opening the door for you and handing you back your bag. 

Robert stood in shock. Ari was taking you. And you let him. Though he couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed, he was just wondering how he did it. That lucky bastard. 

The inside of his truck was bigger than you ever imagined. It was dirty and there were oil stains everywhere you looked. Wrenches were scattered across the floor along with bolts and lug nuts. The only thing that was almost impeccable was the air freshener hanging off the rearview mirror but there were five oil stained fingerprints on it.

“Thank you for the ride Mr. Levinson, you didn’t have to take me. I could've taken the bus.” 

“Don’t even mention it Sweet Pea,” Ari said. “Plus I don’t think you wanted to ride with Rob now did you?” 

“No,” you answered as you shook your head. “He scares me.” 

“He scares you?” Ari repeated, barely shocked. 

“Mhm,” you confirmed with a small hum. “He’s really big and mean. Everyone says he’s the nicest to me and if that’s true I don’t want to see him when he’s mad.” 

“It’s true, he’s the nicest to you.” Ari found it weird when Robert wouldn’t constantly yell at you like he did with other people but he can see why. You’re the sweetest thing ever.

“Is that all?” 

“Mr. Pronge used to bring women and–and they would come out screaming and crying. It frightened me.” 

Robert used to bring women over all the time. They wouldn’t last for too long. They would run out of the house screaming all kinds of profanities after 3 weeks. You’ll never forget the moment a woman came to your house and asked if you had anything sharp. You gave her one of the knives from the kitchen. 5 minutes later the word asshole was embedded on the side of his car in big, bold letters. 

You’ll also never forget the time another woman came to your trailer. She screamed while she banged on the door like a madman. When you opened the door she had red hand prints on her body and a barely carved ‘R’ on her exposed hip. She asked you to hide her because he was coming. Sure enough a minute later Mr. Pronge came, demanding you to show him where she was hiding. Luckily your brother was there to kick him out.

He could see why you were scared. Hell even that scared him a couple of times. For some reason Ari didn’t like the thought of you being scared. Hell, he could barely deal with the fact how uncomfortable Mr. Pronge made you. 

When you approached the building Ari parked the car and exited out, lightly jogging over to your side and opening your door for you. He held out his hand to you to help you out of the truck, your hand delicately gripped his and he could feel the rush of dopamine releasing in his body. 

“Thank you again Mr. Levinson!” you beamed with a bright smile. You raised yourself on your tippy toes and slightly bounced to place a thank you kiss on his cheek. 

An unexplainable warmth rushed through him. The action was short and sweet but it made him feel weak in the knees. He would get cheek kisses from women quite a lot but it never felt like this. 

“Anytime Sweet Pea.” He felt himself staring at your eyes for a little bit too long. He forced himself to look anywhere else for a brief second, making sure you didn’t grow uncomfortable. “What time do you want me to pick you up?” 

“Oh it’s okay Mr. Levinson, I can take the bus or have my brother pick me up.” 

“Are you sure?” he asked you again. 

You nodded your head. “Thank you again! You’re a lifesaver.” 

“Don’t even mention it,” he waves off. 

You muttered a small goodbye to Mr. Levinson before taking off into the diner. He watched you go in with a small smile on his face.

 Even though this was your first real interaction, he knew he wasn’t going to get enough of you. You were the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. The whole way back he thought of you. You were like a deadly plague in his mind. A beautiful, rose scented, warm plague. 

Luckily your brother was able to pick you up after he got off of work. The next bus was going to come within another hour. When your brother picked you up, he was agitated. 

“What happened to your tire?” your older brother asked, not amused at all.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I went outside this morning and it had a flat.” 

“I helped Mr. Levinson changed the tire, it had 4 nails,” he said in a matter of fact one. “4.” he repeated as he held four fingers in the air. 

“I’m sorry,” you weakly apologized. 

“You need to pay more attention where you’re driving.”  

“I didn’t mean to drive over the nails. There weren’t even any when I drove yesterday!” you protested. “I only drove to the library which is 2 minutes away.” 

“So they magically appeared?” he sarcastically asked. “Just pay attention please.” 

“I will.” 

“You left your bus pass on the table this morning. How did you get to work? ” he questioned you. “Mr. Pronge didn’t take you, did he?” He turned to glance at you with a worried look. 

“No, Mr. Levinson did,” you told your brother.

“Did you make it on time?” He quickly glanced at you again, “because you are horrible at giving directions.” 

“Hey!” you barked at him. “I am not horrible at giving directions.” 

“Yes you are.” 

“Well lucky for me I didn’t even have to tell him, he already knew where to go,” you responded, “sure did save me the hassle.” 

“Did you thank him?” 

“Of course I did, I’m not rude,” you responded, half hurt he would think that of you. 

The rest of the ride was short but your brother took the remaining 4 minute drive to lecture you once again to pay attention. You tried to zone him out but he would snap at you, telling you to listen. You knew he did it to annoy you, it was simply too easy to annoy you. 

When you arrived at home, you jumped out of the car to look at the tire. Sure you had no idea what you were even looking at but it never hurt. You bent down to look at it and you noticed one thing. It wasn’t patched up like before. It was brand new. 

“Are you coming in?” your brother asked you. 

You turned to look at him. “Yeah, I just have to do something really quick.” 

“Don’t take too long, I’ll be done cooking in 10 minutes.” 

“I promise,” you told him before he went inside. 

You took out a sticky note, a pen and 50 dollars that took you 4 days to earn. You used the hood of your car as a desk and wrote a sweet but short thank you on the sticky note. Afterwards you walked over to his house and placed it under the surprisingly alive flower pot he had on his front porch. 

The both of you didn’t see each other for almost 2 days. You got overwhelmed with work that you barely were in the house. It wasn’t until Ari caught you late at the laundromat. 

“Sweet Pea?”

You turned around at the sound of your name. “Oh hi Mr. Levinson,” you greeted him with a huge smile. 

“What are you doing here so late?” he asked you though he could barely pay any attention to you at the moment. You wore a thin pastel pink cardigan with a pearly white nightgown that had a bow at the valley of your breasts.

“I forgot to do my laundry this morning and I didn’t have time so I came here after work,” you told him. 

“Isn’t it a little late to be working?” he questioned you. 

“I’ve been picking up other shifts at work,” you said, “it doesn’t help having the extra money.” 

“Speaking of money,” he began to say as he took out the fifty you gave him from his front pocket of his flannel, “you left this on my porch.” 

“Yeah it’s for you,” you innocently said, “I noticed the tire is brand new and I’m 90% sure my brother forgot to pay you.” 

“It’s your money, I’m not taking it. Here.” He passed the money back to you but you refused. 

“Keep it, you changed my tire and I’m paying you for your service.” 

“I really can’t—” 

“Please,” you begged him with puppy eyes. 

You pulled at his heartstrings. It agonized him, he didn’t want to take your money but he also didn’t want to make you sad. But he kept it anyway and stuffed it back into the front pocket of his flannel. 

“What are you doing here so late?” you asked him as you bent down and took out your now dry clothes. 

His eyes peered down for a quick second and he saw the nightgown riding up, revealing your baby blue panties. His throat went dry and he fought hard to keep his gaze up but it found itself looking back down. 

“I–I realized I forgot to wash my work clothes.” 

“I hate when that happens.” You came back up after you pulled out the last piece of clothing. “Then I’m stuck getting yelled at by the manager when I come in with the wrong clothes.” 

Ari chuckled to avoid an awkward silence. Really it was to refrain himself from stuttering or making a fool out of himself. In his head he wanted to compliment you and how pretty your nightgown was but the words wouldn’t leave the tip of his tongue. 

He took a deep breath before he spoke. “You look pretty in your nightgown,” he quickly muttered out. 

Your eyes lit up at his compliment. “Thank you Mr. Levinson. It’s pretty but I don’t think I’ll keep it.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“It always rides up and by morning it’s all the way up here,” you pointed to your upper stomach.

Oh what he would give to be a fly in the room in the morning. He quickly changed the conversation, it was obvious you were too oblivious to what you were doing to him. Your sweet voice and innocence were driving him insane but he loved it, he secretly wanted more. 

The both of you left the laundromat 40 minutes later. He insisted on carrying your basket for you. You both walked side by side. You were busy trying to keep up with him while he was busy looking down at your breasts. 

“Thank you for carrying my basket Mr. Levinson,” you thanked him as you took your basket from him when you got to your front porch.

“Anytime Sweet Pea.”

You kissed his cheek once again to seal your thank you. “Sweet dreams Mr. Levinson.”

“Sweet dreams honey,” he repeated to you. 

Ari was in a rush to get back to his trailer but a dear beloved friend was waiting for him. 

“Well would you look at that?” Robert sarcastically asked him. “She gave you a kiss on the cheek.” 

“Not now Robert,” Ari pleaded, dying to get back into his place. 

“What’s the big rush to get back home?” Robert crossed his arms as he smirked, “I see you’re sporting a hard on. Surely it can’t be because of her. Right?” 

“Oh shut your trap.” 

“It is, isn't it?!” he gawked. 

“No it’s not!” Ari protested. 

“Oh really?” Robert Challenged as he squinted his eyes.

“I was about to get lucky with Kim before she came into the laundromat and interrupted us,” Ari quickly lied. 

“So you waited for her to be done then walked her back?” Robert questioned Ari. 

“Of course I did,” he scoffed, “otherwise she would’ve ran into you. Not to mention she’s terrified of you, fuckin’ creep.” 

“Whatever. She wants me, I know it,” Robert boasted. 

“Yeah in jail.” 

Robert rolled his eyes and walked back to his trailer while Ari walked back into his. He immediately locked the door behind him and dropped the basket on the floor. 

“Oh thank god,” Ari hissed as he unzipped his painfully tight pants. 

His cock was rock hard and had been for the past 20 minutes. The pants barely gave him any friction and if anything, made it worse. He palmed himself through his boxers and moaned in relief. 

All he can think about is you in the short nightgown and how he’s never been this hard before. Sure he’s been turned on but it was nothing compared to this. It was like he was a horny spazzy teenager all over again. 

He freed his cock from his boxers and sharply inhaled at the impact of the cold air. The tip of his cock was bright red and oozing with precum. He used his thumb to spread his precum and use it as lube.  

His eyes screwed shut in bliss when he began pumping up and down. He tried to think of the porn he watched three days ago but instead you kept popping up. He imagined you being here with him, helping him out. 

“Does that hurt?” you ask him as you point to his angry, leaking cock. 

“It does Sweet Pea,” he rasped out. 

“Was it because of me?” you innocently ask him as you bat your lashes. 

“Yes,” he admits. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you apologize to him. “Let me help you,” you tell him as you take his cock into your tiny, warm hand. 

“Oh Sweet Pea,” he moans out. 

“You’re s-so bi-big,” you sputter out, slowly pumping him up and down. “Does that feel better?”

He doesn’t have the strength to talk so instead he nods eagerly. “G-Go a little bit faster.”

You obey him and start pumping faster. His moans fill the room as he gets lost in the pleasure you’re giving him. Your hand is cramping but you don’t care, anything to make him feel good. 

“Sweet Pea, I-I’m about to cum,” he warns you. 

You get down on your knees while you still pump him. “Let it all go,” you seductively say as you open your mouth. 

Ari was brought back to reality when his high overtook him and he orgasmed. It was so intense his thighs started to shake. He continued pumping and pumping until he got too sensitive he had to stop.

He stood there with his cum dripping down his hand and secretly wishing you were there to help clean it all up. The realization had hit him hard, he needed you.

[residenthughes]

slow sundays - mat barzal

pairing: mat barzal x gender neutral reader

word count: 1k

tags/warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, no mention of y/n

summary: any day spent with barzal is always good, especially sundays.

notes: a little something i wrote when i should have been sleeping, oops! may write a longer version, may not but i'll definitely write up something else longer for barzy, as well as some other fics that i've started and am very excited to share, hehe! as always, hope this finds u well and that you enjoy this small ball of fluff. much love! <3

oh! forgot to mention, this post is inspired by this post by @novelbear! they spoil tumblr rotten with such adorable prompts! :)

Sundays are your favourite days of the week. The normal anxieties that creep in from a long lived weekend cease to exist in your timeline, a day defined by slow sweetness and sacred serenity. This year you’ve really lucked out with said day, most of Mat’s games scheduled another time and on the off chance he has practice, it’s before you can even pry yourself from the comfort of your cloud-like mattress. This is one of those Sundays, where you’re tucked away in citrus scented sheets, fast asleep as Mat presses a tender kiss on the bridge of your nose before he goes off to do what he does best, leaving you to emerge from your cocoon whenever you please.

You decide shortly after Mat departs to desert the covers, arranging them neatly with a sleepy pout set onto your puffy lips before starting your share of morning chores. Amidst the array of bits and bobs you cater to around your cosy home, you cook up a breakfast built for two - piping hot and ready to eat by the time Mat’s car pulls up the driveway. 

You drape your arms lazily around his nape, beaming a lovesick grin as you peck your long-time lover. “Good practice?”

“Great practice,” he breathes against you, minty fresh with the faint waft of his accompanying cologne. His strong arms pull you impossibly closer, your body snug in his embrace. “But I’ve got better things waiting for me right here.”

His large hands cup a handful of your butt, giving it a cheeky squeeze that involuntarily makes you jump against him, your cheeks crimsoning. “And to think, that’s the thanks I get for making us breakfast.”

Mat releases his grip as you back away, disbelief washing all over his sculpted features as he gives you a cocked eyebrow and a petty laugh. “Says the one who-”

Your hand comes up, an index finger raised. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Wordlessly, Mat holds his hands up in surrender, brazen-faced as you send him an eye-roll with crossed arms. Despite the circumstances, your hands find the top of his zipper, opening up his coat before you hang it up near the door in perfect routine. The selfless action still warrants one of your favourite kisses from your boyfriend, kisses from side-to-side - a kiss on the cheek, nose and cheek again. A simple action but one that robs you of all oxygen, a lightness in your limbs and a tingle down your spine. You soon turn around with Mat trailing not far behind as you venture back to your spacious kitchen, settling at the quaint table for two - a single vase rose separating your plates packed with all your breakfast favourites.

Before you have the chance to take your seat at your baby blue painted table, Mat comes up from behind you, cradling you in his sugary embrace as he plants a delicate kiss against your temple, your heart overflowing with the magic of your slow Sundays together. “How’d I get so lucky?”

You hum blissfully, a hand delicate against his stubble-ridden cheek as you simply exist together, limbs tangled as you savour the moment like sand slipping through your fingertips. A quick kiss against Mat’s prickly cheek puts a pause on the moment, your grin giddy as your hand takes Mat’s as you direct him to sit, which he does - no questions asked, fuschia dusted upon the apples of his cheeks.

You fall into perfect routine, your brunch a show that consists of all your favourites: Mat’s cutlery glimmering in the soft rays pouring into the windowed kitchen as he cuts his food, ceremoniously offering you the first bite of his food with the same smitten closed mouth smile that he had the first day he met you. Happily, you accept his generous offer and take a bite, beaming with full rosy cheeks as he swipes the crumbs with such an earnest shimmer in his eyes that it makes your heart squeeze with joy.

Your brunch continues in similar fashion, two enamoured partners basking in the company of another as you bond over a hearty plate of food, time lost in endless dialogues and timeless ‘I love you’s. When there’s nothing but crumbs speckled across your ceramic plates, Mat shoos you away before you can get a protest in, you resorting to sulking on the edge of couch as the sounds of plates clinking together competes with the noise coming from the TV. 

When everything’s said and done, the washing up dried and packed away, Mat shuffles into the lounge, falling into the couch with a grunt as he positions himself as close to you as possible. You can never bring yourself to mind, head falling to his broad shoulder once he’s propped his feet against the hickory coffee table with his arm circling your shoulders. Another kiss atop your head tells you he’s settled and you melt into his side, no objections sounding from your long-time boyfriend as reruns of 'The Bachelor' blare from the TV. If anything, Mat immerses just as much as you. Well, as much as the slightly fatigue man can as his fingers absently fiddle with locks of your hair, the gesture a lullaby that aids your sudden drowsiness that links hands with the warmth emitting from Mat’s body that always fits against yours like a puzzle piece.

Before you’re able to drift away into a shallow slumber, a slumber you both shall share prior to your simple plans for the day, Mat’s sleep-laced voice calls out to you. 

“Waking up next to you is the best part of my day.”

And you chuckle softly because of the simple fact you know this to be true - evidenced in the way affirmations of love fall so easily from his lips, in the way he never allows you to walk near any busy roads and buys you flowers just because. And, best of all, when your precious Sunday comes and goes, your Monday view consists of your beautiful boyfriend as you reverse out of your driveway, a sleepy smile mellowed into his features as he sees you off, hollering one and the same line wishing you a great day at work, which is nothing but granted if you’ve got him by your side. 

[lustchan]

POV: You are a maid in Gojo Satoru's house and he comes back from work one day very stressed. So you try to cheer his up by making his favourite meal but it looks like he wants to eat something else 😏😏

You jump as you hear the front door slam as Gojo storms through the vast halls. "He must have had a bad day" you think in your head just as he approaches the kitchen and stands by the doorway. You bow in greeting but all he does is look you up and down and then to the pot that was boiling on the fire for his food. When he left you notice that he had wrinkle lines on his forehead and set to make something to cheer up your boss.

You decide to make his favourite dessert : zunda and cream mochi , to accompany his meal. After about an hour the cream kikufuku is ready and so is his spaghetti Bolognese, all cooked fresh. You set it on a tray and walk up the long winding stairs up to Gojo's room, knocking on his door and calling out in a soft voice that his food is ready.

When he doesn't answer you warn him that you are coming in and push open the door with your elbow. You hear the shower running and realise that he is in the shower, place the food down on the bedside table and begin walking out. Then something lying on the floor catches your eye- it's an old photograph with a man with long black hair and a scar on his forehead with his arms around Gojo's shoulders.

You are so invested in the photo that you don't hear Gojo coming out of the shower and walking towards you until he puts his hand on your shoulder with immense force.

"What are you doing here?" He asks you in a low voice , a little too close to your ear. With the photo still in your hand , you don't dare turn around. Instead you reply in a shaky voice, "I-I was j-just bringing your food up to you, " You close your eyes when you say this unsure of what will happen to you if you open them. He breathes heavily, his warm breath tickling your ear as you let out a quiet whimper.

"Where did you find that photo?" He says more forcefully as he snatches it out of your hand. You hesitate to reply but then you say, nearly crying "I f-found it on the f-floor,"

He lets you go and you can hear his footsteps recede to his drawers to put the photo in. You stand facing the bed not knowing that Gojo was busy staring at your ass in your maid dress. Maybe it was because he was pent up or because he was stressed but Gojo could feel his dick become hard as he stared at your back a little longer.

You stood there awaiting dismissal but soon felt that something wasn't right. You turned slowly to see Gojo red in the face , his towel elevated by his erection staring intensely at your behind. You tried to turn away like you didn't just see your boss's dick poking out through his short towel that hung loosely around his toned waist, but he was faster. He walked quickly towards you , trapping you between his chest and the wall next to the bed.

"Y/N," He said as he towered over you , his minty breath hitting your nose.

"Y-yes Gojo-san," You stammered, your face becoming hot as you suddenly felt a wave of heat rush over you. Who would have thought that one day your rich sexy boss would be pinning you against the wall, his raging hard on poking you as you thought to yourself "Holy shit his dick is big" i over and over again.

"I want to do so many naughty things to you- will you let me?" He whispered softly as he waited for your reply. "Wow" you thought to yourself, "and he asked for my consent as well, he is literally perfect"

But even so, you nodded your head and said a shy yes. Gojo didn't waste any time and started by diving in for a kiss as he pushed you softly on to the bed. He slipped his hot wet tongue into your mouth as you explored the warm cave of his mouth. Gojo grabbed the hem of your dress, pulling it upward towards your head taking it off so fast that soon enough his mouth was back on yours pulling you closer and closer and he grinded on you.

You moaned into his mouth feeling his 9 inch cock rub on your clothed clit. His dick wasn't even fully hard yet and it was that big- you were losing your mind. He removed your underclothes until you were just in your sexy lingerie set , fishnet tights and your black heels. He opened your legs wide, giving him a good view of your soaking wet pussy as you looked up at him with the most erotic expression he has ever seen.

"Fuck, I'm going crazy," He said panting as he looked at your face. "You make me crazy," He jabbed a finger at you to emphasise the 'you'. Then he brought his face up to your pussy and licked you through your thong. You moaned out his name as he moved the cloth to one side and began feasting on you like a hungry beast.

"Aah~ Gojo-san~," You moaned as he flicked his tongue up and down pushing you towards your climax. Just as you were about to cum he stopped. You looked at him in confusion.

"Why did you stop?" You asked , pouting.

Gojo chuckled and climbed onto the bed positioning himself in between your legs.

"You think I'm gonna let you have all the fun? I'm struggling not to ruin you right now," He said as he slipped two fingers in your tight hole to prepare you. At this point, his dick was slack against his defined abs and you couldn't help but feel bad because his dick looked as if it was going to burst any minute.

You reached out and grabbed onto his dick with your hand that wasn't gripping the sheets and begun stroking him slowly. He let out a grunt as his long fingers came in and out of you as if searching for something. Suddenly he pressed something that made you jolt, your mouth hanging open in pleasure but you made sure as not to slow down the pace on Gojo's dick.

"Hehe, found your spot," He said with a smirk that made butterflies in your stomach.

"Gojo-san, um, I think I'm ready now," You said , not being able to take it any longer.

"Mhmm, look at your needy hole twitching like its begging to be filled with your master's cock, needy little slut," He said smirking down at you.

"Ngh~," You moaned at the name 'slut'. Even though it was an insult to some, it turned you on even more.

He lined up his throbbing dick with your pussy and slowly pushed himself in. You gasped at the intrusion but soon found yourself moaning as you felt a warmth grow in your stomach. You were sure that you were completely filled but when you glanced down you saw that not even half of his length had gone in yet.

"Fuck, Y/N. You're so tight." He groans pushing all of himself in you as you started to shake from your orgasm. He stared at you in awe before smirking and leaning down to whisper in your ear-"You came from me just putting it in?" He chuckles softly before thrusting into you hard. You moan loudly as he pounds into you at a steady pace.

"Who told you to cum without your master ,huh?" He says looking down on you.

"N-no one , Gojo-san." You stammer , playing along.

He suddenly flips you on all fours , gripping your hair as he slammed into you hard.

"It's not 'Gojo-san' , it's 'Master'," He says into your ear. You didn't need to see his face to know he was smirking.

"Aah~ M-master~aah~ngh~,"You moaned as he slammed into you at a god-like speed, your moans and the sound of skin slapping filling the room and bouncing off the walls. Thank God the walls were sound-proof in this mansion or else the other maids and servants would be very shocked to hear the noises coming out of the room.

You could feel yourself nearing your climax as Gojo's hot dick went in and out with a squelching noise. Gojo, on the other hand, could feel himself coming closer and closer to his orgasm as his thrusts became more sloppier. He grabbed your chin and turned your head to kiss you as you could feel your orgasm approach.

"Aah~ Master, I-I'm cumming," You said.

"Haa, me too baby," Gojo said. After a few more thrusts your body shook as your orgasm rippled throughout yourself. At the same time you felt Gojo release hot liquid inside your twitching pussy. When both of you rode out your orgasms, Gojo flipped you over looking at you as you lay panting on the bed. Then he run his hand through his white hair and smirked down on you as he put one of your legs over his shoulder, his dick up against his stomach again.

"Time for round two~"

Pt.2 here

[tojisth3rdwife]

Foreplay with Kento wasnt something that only happened minutes before sex to get you just aroused enough for him to have his way.

No. It starts the moment you open your eyes.

With his calloused hands on your supple skin beneath the sheets, running his fingertips up and down your spine. The gravely growl in his throat when he spoke to you would be the first thing you hear for the day, his sensual ‘Good morning gorgeous’ waking up every cell in your body.

Foreplay with Kento is him offering to rub your body oils and butters into your skin when you were fresh out of the shower. He’d be at the sink, seemingly preoccupied with the task of shaving his stubble when he notices you sitting on the edge of the tub. Youre wrapped in a towel, curls dripping onto your bare shoulders, moisturing your decadent skin in the way you did every morning. You’d usually turn him down playfully, reminding him that neither of you had time to get distracted with such things this early. To which he’d shrug and mutter “Later then..” as he continued to drag the razor over his jawline.

Foreplay with Kento is him making sure to have your coffee waiting for you just the way you take it, even if he has to rush out of the house to make it to work on time. He always looked so good in his suits, his broad shoulders stretching the pristinely ironed fabric of his dress shirt, his sharp blonde undercut catching your eye as you watched him pour creamer into your favorite mug, acting oblivious to your stare until he’s sure you had your fill of his back.

“Enjoying the show, are we?”

Foreplay with Kento is the way his lips linger on yours in your kisses goodbye. He smells so fucking good. Clean and expensive. Masculine. Big hands sliding down your body to rest at the small of your back, pinning you to him possessively. His lips never sought to deepen the kiss, knowing his restraint always left you wanting more. All pillow soft lips. Not a sliver of tongue. Even though you’d chase the minty flavor you knew you’d find if he did take it there. But his kisses would always be chaste (somewhat). Sweet with a hint of something savory, the perfect combination.

“I could kiss you like this forever, baby. Unfortunately, I must get to work. No no, don’t pout. I’ll be back before you know it..”

Foreplay with Kento is him texting you randomly throughout your day. Letting you know youre on his mind. Asking you about your day. Requesting pictures of yourself. Your make up. Your outfit of the day. That big ass rock on your finger. Sending you funny videos or screenshots of places he wanted to take you or things he wanted to buy. Once he sent you an ad he’d been seeing online for that sexy satin night dress with the slits high on the sides and barely covering anything. He could already see you in it around the house, your cheeks jiggling freely under the thin flowy material.

“I would love to see you in this. So I ordered every color..”

Foreplay with Kento is him automatically sending you money for lunch or your nails. Or just because, attaching nothing more than a heart emoji to the message.

So by the time he made it back home to you that night after dealing with the idiots at his job, pulling at his necktie and unbuttoning his shirt as he told you about them..

…casually undoing his belt, the soft jingle of it sounding more like a dinner bell than anything, while you sat on the edge of the bed..

..wearing one of the satin dresses he’d ordered with your thick thighs slightly spread, head cocked to the side as you admired your man from afar.

You were already ready for him.

“Missed me? Good. Open those legs and show me how much…”

Do with that what you will..

[boundbyeclipse]

she’s my deadly desire.

genre : fluff, slightly suggestive

word count : 1.3k

tags : witch!female!reader, hybrid!klaus, use of alcohol

a/n : i was listening to night vision by mareux while writing this, and i highly recommend this song if you like alternative/indie type of music. totally obsessed with that song. enjoy ♡

Friday evening. The bar is half filled, lots of faces known to the whole town present, including you. You sat by the bar counter, elbows on top of the wooden surface, a black plastic straw in between your fingers. Mixing the ice cubes in your almost empty glass to melt them, you huff, tired of dealing with the hybrid himself for the whole week. Chasing you here and there, he hasn’t left you alone. Subtle gifts like a necklace, roses delivered to your door, a bundle of candles and herbs. Those were at your door every single day, and it only made you want to stop accepting them in hopes of him leaving you be. Obviously, those gifts were nice, especially the herbs that you’ve been looking for to practice some new spells, but he was far from being done with you.

The door creaked open as a tall, handsome man stepped inside, an immediate smirk across his face when he recognised you. Yes, even from the back. Everyone at the bar collectively shifted their gazes towards him. His hair was slightly curly, skin soft and eyes mellow. Dressed in all black, he walked with such confidence, a slight swagger in his step. He scooched in between the bar counter and the stool, sitting down as he motioned at the bartender.

“One whiskey, please” he spoke, then turning his attention to you.

“Klaus Mikaelson. Found me yet again” you sighed, tilting your head to the side as you sipped the last of your drink. You didn’t really want to look at him right now, you were fed up.

A smile budded on his lips.

“Oh, don’t be so grumpy, love. I’m here to cheer you up yet again. Except that I don’t have any gifts for you this time” his voice dropped an octave lower at the last sentence.

You snorted and rolled your eyes, pushing the empty glass aside.

“Good. I didn’t ask for any in the first place”

“But you’re wearing the obsidian necklace I gifted you. You might’ve not asked for it, but you still have it around your neck”

You gulped as you grasped onto the necklace that you wore, holding it tightly in your fist in an attempt to hide it. The panic set in and you didn’t know how to react or what to say. Yet you had words slip past your lips.

“Obsidian protects me, okay? I just don’t understand why it doesn’t protect me from you”

“You think I have some bad intentions?,” his brows knitted together, “darling, you better trust that I don’t”

You rolled your eyes again, still avoiding any kind of eye contact with the hybrid next to you. His cologne traveled through your nostrils every time he moved, and you could not lie to yourself - it really smelled good. Slightly minty, fresh, not too spicy, yet captivating enough to your senses. It was no lie that Klaus himself was a really hot dude, and it was something you found yourself thinking about from time to time. But god knows why you chose to play hard to get and act like he annoys the living hell out of you. Things were the other way around. Only time could tell when you were going to show what you really think about him.

Klaus shifted in his seat, gulping his drink as he placed the glass down and began to spin it in circles with his fingers.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

You shook your head.

“No, I can’t have too much”

“Why? Are you lightweight?”

Just say yes, just say yes, god damn it!

“No. It makes my legs spread for dangerous men like you”

His eyebrows inched upward, as he looked upon you in stunned silence. But not for long, as he broke into laughter that he couldn’t seem to control. Why is he laughing? Does he find it funny?

“That’s not why I’m asking, love. See, I was only being a gentleman and offered to pay for your drink. But okay, if you say so” he shrugged, downing the strong liquor he had ordered earlier.

“Doesn’t change my answer” you give him a fake smile as you get your wallet and zip it open, about to hand money to the bartender. You jump as Klaus grabs your wrist and pushes your arm down.

“At least let me pay for the one you drank already”

You click your tongue and sigh heavily.

“Fine!”

Klaus lets go of your hand gently and pays for your drink as well as his own, eyes darting your way as you hopped off the chair, ready to leave.

“Oh-“ he got off his chair too, blocking the way as he stood in front of you. This man made your heart beat so loud that the entire public in this building could hear it. Except the non-supernatural ones, of course.

“Slow down, sweetheart. I’m not letting such a beautiful girl like you go home on her own this late. May I?” he fixed his jacket and offered you his forearm, giving you such a dazzling smile that made you nothing but weak in the knees. Of course you could say no, walk away and just call a taxi to get you home. Of course you could just scoff and mock him before taking off. Of course you could curse him out and tell him to leave you alone. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Your face only flushed with redness as you stood there staring at his arm, hesitantly taking it without making any eye contact.

What are you doing with Klaus? Or more like, what is Klaus doing to you? It can’t be the alcohol because you only had one cocktail, it wasn’t even enough to get you tipsy. You just couldn’t resist him, and it was strange. The cologne was intoxicating as well as the way he spoke. It was so lovely and soft, so gentle, so caring. The blood in your veins ran hot as you walked out of the bar clinging onto his forearm, embarrassed by the choice you’ve made.

You were silent the whole time until he got you home. You found no words to say to him, everything felt awkward and weird. But it didn’t matter to him that you were quiet as if your mouth was sewed up. Klaus was the brave one. So where did the hard-to-get you go to?

“I can hear your little heart, you know?” he whispered lowly, his finger brushing a strand of hair out of your face, you then unconsciously leaning into his palm.

He found it adorable.

You nodded, absolutely vulnerable in front of the curly headed hybrid.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me. Nor avoid me, or my gifts. I’m doing it all with good intentions only. I know it probably makes me a little bit of a creep, but trust me, it’s not what I am. I just know that you need some sort of a distraction from all the crap you’re dealing with. I hope what I do helps you”

“Thank you” you finally speak as you look into his eyes, really shy, really unsure, but don’t look away.

“No need to thank me. Now go ahead, get inside”

You smiled while licking your lips as you unlocked your door and opened it, stopping on the doorstep as you looked at Klaus. He gave you a warm smile, the moon right above his head shining down and illuminating the streets.

“Oh, and were you serious about the legs thing?” Klaus tilted his head as he pointed at you with his index finger. Your eyes lit up, sparkling with anticipation as you broke into a small giggle.

“Shut up. I was just joking,” you shook your head before whispering, “Or maybe not”

Klaus dropped his smile for a second before it returned.

“You know I heard that”

“Goodniiiiight” you waved as you hurriedly shut the door with the biggest grin on your face. Klaus chuckled to himself as he paused for a few seconds before stepping off of the front porch, disappearing into the distance.

[sugusatosluut]

Yuuji Itadori x Fem!reader

MDNI✨

heads up: fluff, smut (experienced!yuuji, Virgin!reader , yuuji really wants you.

Your friend group was pretty big. Outside of school, the Tokyo and Kyoto classes hung out despite their differences. You guys hung out in a large group, so it was easy during these times for you and Yuuji to slip away and go makeout in an outlet dressing room or just talk and eat ice cream. Nobody knew about you two.. or at least that’s what you both thought. Nobara picked up pretty quickly, sometimes even foiling you guys’ plans to be alone. Megumi grilled yuuji about it until he confessed, making Megumi feel proud of him. Even going so far as to tell him to take that pinup poster down now.

The sun was setting, you and yuuji decided to slip away quietly again. Nobody really seemed to care because they were too caught up in arguing about water being wet and where you guys should go for dinner. You figured you guys would just be a short while since all you wanted to do was kiss him. The feeling was mutual to you from him as well. Yuuji grabbed your hand and snuck you into the nearest clothing store. You both stumbled into a dressing room, locking it behind you as you both stood looking at eachother. Yuuji sat down, then he gave his lap a pat.

“C’mere.” He smiled.

His smile was like looking over Tokyo at night. It made your heart warm and felt like a breath of fresh air. Yuuji was always so gentle with you, even when he was so wrapped up in kissing you, his compulsion to squeeze your hips into his was overshadowed by how soft you were being with him. You sat in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling at him. He couldn’t lie, he’s been wanting more than just a glance at you all day.

“You look good, is that the shirt I picked out from So-Chee?” He smiled.

“Mhmm, I wanted to wear it today. The fabric is soft for a tank top, it’s very tight fitting and my boobs finally feel secure.” You giggled softly as you pressed a kiss to his neck. You flowered your kisses all over as he moaned softly.

“Your body looks amazing. I’ve been wanting this all day.” He said kissing you back.

You sucked on his neck softly, moving place to place leaving small marks that were barely recognizable. He pulled your body close, kissing you passionately on the lips. He let his tongue glide and part your lips, finding his way to your own eager tongue. His hands grabbed both sides of your face, his thumbs on your cheeks as he tongued your mouth down, exploring your minty breath. He pulled away softly to look at you, then planted his face in the cleavage of the light pink tight tank top he got you. Your breasts were practically screaming for him to put his face there. You had something for him, something you’ve been waiting to tell him for a while and you didn’t want to do it on an outing like this.

“Can we go to your dorm after dinner with the group tonight? Just me and you?” You asked.

“Mhm, I have something for you anyways, been meaning to give it to you.,. Ugh why do we have to go...” He groaned quietly as he pecked each of your breasts with a sloppy kiss.

“Let’s go before they think we died. The last thing I want is for kugisaki to make a scene like last time.” You joked.

“Yeah, let’s see if they ever figured dinner out.” Yuuji smiled at you.

The dinner plans went through, you all sat at a place similar to hot pot. It was a major success between the two groups. Forget bonding at school, the schools would never agree to fund a trip like this. It was good to outside of school and all the rivalry. You sat next to yuuji and yuuta, smiling the whole time.

That was, until yuuji put a hand on your thigh under the table. You were a blushing mess at something so innocent. His hand stroked the bumpiness of your knee. Fingers threatening to creep up and touch your pulsating mess under the skirt you wore. Both your hands were under the table, but you didn’t dare try to stop him from doing what he was doing. You wanted to show him you were ready too.

“Hey, Itadori. Can you please pass the meat? Maki says the ramen would go good with it and I kinda want to try it.” Yuuta smiled.

“Of course.” He smiled.

Yuuji’s wallet dropped out of his pocket, you got down and smirked to yourself internally before ‘accidentally’ palming his crotch to catch yourself.

He breathed in a sharp breath before taking a glance at you. You were smiling at him.

“Oh-im sorry yuuji. Here let me fix that.” You said from under the table. You gave him a quick feel up under the table over his clothes. He was already hard. You got up from under the table and playing between his legs. He was quite shocked to say the least but he was turned on. The innocence you kept in front of your friends was intriguing especially since he’s been the one to feel and witness how nasty you could be in private. Oh god when could he touch you?

After dinner, you and yuuji walked to his dorm instead of dropping you off at yours first. You sat on his bed having already explored his room many times before. Nothing devious or naughty the previous times, you two watched movies and cuddled and held game nights at his place usually. Tonight was different though. Tonight you wanted privacy.

“Okay sweet girl, stay right here. I got you some stuff just because I was thinking about you really hard the other day.” He smiled. Yuuji Itadori just had one of the warmest smiles. It could pull you right out of sadness.

He approached you with a big bag.

“Woah! What’s all this?” You asked. If your eyes could be giant hearts, you’d let them stay that way forever.

“Go ahead, open it.” He gestured.

You took the paper out of the bag and a card fell out.

“You can save that for last though, here lemme see.” He said gently taking the card from you.

You took some things out the bag.

Some lip gloss that you glanced at the other day while it was just the two of you, some scrunchies, a new purse, some socks, a yellow hoodie to match his own, and a.. what is that?

“It’s a vibrator.” He smiled nervously.

You looked at him lovingly.

“Oh- yuu i wanted to ask you something.” You smiled at him.

“You know whatever you ask for, if I can give it to you I will. I cant say no to my pretty girl.” Yuuji said caressing the small of your back.

“Can we do it? I know what I’m asking isn’t easy but I know what I want and I want it to be with you.. I’m ready.” You blushed.

Yuuji moved your hair out of your face and brought you on top of his lap. You looked pretty like this. Face red off your nerves, eyes hopeful yet full of curiosity and desire. Yuuji wanted to make sure you were sure because he wanted this just as bad as you did. He wanted to see you fucked out on his cock, damn near drooling and begging for more. Some night’s he would jerk off just thinking about the lewd images that popped up in his head while he was already thinking about you. He’s glad Megumi made him take that damn pinup poster down.. he never looked at it or admired it, but sometimes in the heat of the moment, instead of seeing the pinup girl, he’d imagine you on the poster, fingers lingering over your dripping cunt and eyes squinted shut. God, was Yuuji Itadori lucky..

“Okay princess, take it all off.” He smirked at you.

You smiled at him, taking off your tank top and your skirt. Yuuji was kinda shocked, no bra? And the lace panties he was staring at through the lingerie shop window? God you were perfect. He couldn’t waste any time, he needed to make you feel good, he needed to be the one to corrupt you, make you feel so good. He took his clothes off, leaving him completely stripped in front of you, his cock slapping the skin of his stomach, just long enough to reach past his belly button. You were shocked at the sight in front of you. You and yuuji and done stuff but you’ve never seen him naked. He had a girlfriend last year but you didn’t know much about their relationship, you assumed they’d probably had sex. You were in for a treat.

Yuuji lied you down on the bed, making sure you were comfortable before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucked softly at first, your quiet moans edging him on. He wondered if he sucked harder, would you get louder? So he did. He sucked hard and your body writhed needingly in response.

“ah-yuuji- feels s’good.” You whined.

His fingers traced your panties, feeling how wet you were. There was already a wet spot on his sheets. How embarassing, you couldn’t keep it contained any longer.

“Looks like my sweet girl couldn’t wait any longer for me, you’re already so wet. I bet I could just slip right in.” He kissed your neck. While kissing your neck he discreetly slid one finger inside you. It felt uncomfortable at first, then the pleasure hit. You grabbed onto his shoulders as he fingered your hole perfectly. Loud mewls escaping your lips, showing him your satisfaction. There was a feeling in your stomach, it kept growing more intense until you finally felt it, you released all over yuuji’s fingers.

“Naughty girl, you didn’t tell me you were getting close.” He smiled at you.

“I’m-s-sorry yuu.. I can keep going, I want more. I want to feel that again.” You panted.

Yuuji’s eyes lit up with joy. He moved you, he took his spot under you and positioned you so that he was perfectly aligned with your leaking hole. It was still pulsating at the thought of his cock entering you.

“Princess this might hurt or it might feel good. You’re really soaked. Just tell me if it hurts I’ll stop.” He said looking you up and down.

You nodded. “Yes baby.” You smiled.

You sank down slowly onto his cock, feeling it stiffen up more inside you. You yelped, closing your eyes and catching your breath.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“N-no, just needed to catch my breath. You’re so big.” You whispered.

“You can bounce whenever you want, just hold onto me.” He said grabbing your waist.

You wasted no time, both your hands were placed on his chest as your knees helped while you lifted your waist and dropped back down on his hard shaft.

“Y/n- Princess-slow down, you’re already so tight, I might just cum.” He let out a breathy chuckle.

“Sorry, just feels so good yuu.” You panted.

You continued at a slower pace, yuuji was a moaning mess. He couldn’t believe it. His love, this pure virgin school girl was riding him, hole tight and gripping his cock so tightly. He was more than qualified to take this from you, to corrupt you with his cock and make you his. He couldn’t take it anymore, he moved your hands behind your back and held them together with one hand, while he gripped your waist with the other. He started thrusting into you at a fast pace with heavy force, tits bouncing everywhere and moans filling up the room along with the slapping of his balls against your ass cheeks.

“Hah-huh- oh yuu—— ah- ah, fuck me!” You screamed out.

“Anything for you princess- fuck- mm.” He moaned.

Yuuji scooted himself up, continuing to thrust into you. His lips attached to one of your tits as he nipped and sucked. He’d left several marks that only he’d be able to see whenever he wanted. His thumb bruised your hip, he was gripping you so tight. You weren’t able to see it but you knew it would be there later.

The ripple of your ass as he smacked his hips into yours at such a strong and fast pace was getting him so close. The coil in your stomach started to build up again.

“Yuuji- I’m close!” You cried.

“Me too- hang on- fuck.” He cried out. He threw you on your back in a swift motion and continued his sweet assault on your cunt, his thrusts growing sloppy.

“I’m gonna cum y/n, fuck you’re so perfect for me.” He moaned.

Without warning you squirted all over, making you a panting, moaning mess. Yuuji enjoyed your fucked out expression. The one he’s been daydreaming about and imagining every night. The coil in his stomach was ready to snap. He pulled out, spewing hot white ropes of cum all over your breast and your stomach. You both were sweaty and panting, just staring at eachother. Yuuji kissed you on the forehead.

“I meant it, you’re perfect.” He smiled.

“You’re perfect.” You said back to him.

“Let’s get cleaned up so we can cuddle.” He said.

Yuuji quickly changed the sheets before hopping into the warm shower after you, then when you both finally calmed down, you got comfortable under the new warm and thick blankets he changed for the bed.

“Aren’t you glad I kept some of your underwear here?” He chuckled.

“Mhmm, my hero.” You sighed as you got sleepy.

“Hey, if you’re ready.. I’d like to tell the group we’re dating. I was gonna ask you regardless of when we did.. this.. but I’m serious. I never wanted anyone as bad as I’ve wanted you. You’re perfect for me, and I love you.” He said playing with your hair.

“Yuu.. I’d love that. Can we still sneak away and have our own little adventures?” You asked.

“We can do anything you want sweet girl.” He winked, kissing you as you both fell asleep soundly in his dorm.

[matryosika]

The Look

Pairing: Hyunjin x fem!reader Wordcount: 2,159 words Genre: Smut (18+) Includes: Ex!hyunjin, mentions of break up and indications of an unhealthy relationship (nothing too detailed or specific). Possesiveness, a bit of angst if you squint. Infidelity? But not really? It's nothing too serious, anyway. Smut warnings under the cut. Author's Note: Wrote this TODAY. Everybody say congratulations on overcoming your writer's block Femme! It honestly has been a fucking while since I wrote anything, so this is news to me really. To be really honest I didn't want to get anywhere with this, I just felt like indulging myself with the "we shouldn't be doing this" kind of trope, so this is what it came out! Please remember that english is not my first language and this is not proofread, so I apologize for any mistakes in advance. If you like this, please leave a comment/reblog/ask and let me know what you think! AND if you wish to support my work further, you can buy me a ko-fi! The link it's in my pinned post. I love you for even reading me.

Smut warnings: Sex in a public place (club's restroom). Unprotected vaginal sex mentions of a condom but they ended up not using it anyways. Lots of dirty talking and physical touch. No kissing at all because they're exes and they don't go around kissing each other, apparently (but they do fuck so... ?). Jealous and possesive Hyunjin. Creampie. Multiple orgasms, overstimulation, use of petnames (baby and pretty). Hyunjin is kind of controlling, not in a dom kind of way but in a "I know you better than you know yourself" kind of way.

“He can’t make you feel like I do, can he?”

It's hard to think coherently and give him a proper answer when his cock is hitting the deepest spots within you. Repeatedly.

Not only that, but he's holding your hips in the angle he knows best. 

Hyunjin is right, no one can make you feel like he does. In every sense of the sentence. 

“He doesn’t know how to fuck you like this, right?” The queries continue, plump lips dragging along your jaw and chin with no other purpose than to feel your skin. Despite you two ending things, seemingly for good, you somehow always found yourself in the same situation: against him, or on top of him, or underneath him. “I know you don’t let him”. 

You're reminded of whatever he is talking about when you feel the rubber of the condom inside your hand, gripping it just as harshly as your walls clench around Hyunjin's dick.

He is right again, you don’t let your new conquer fuck you raw like he is doing right now. Shit, you haven't even let him fuck you at all.

That is not something your ex boyfriend should know about. 

“Baby,” the pet name slips off your lips and it sends shivers down Hyunjin's spine. It has been a while since he has heard you calling him that, but it still has the exact same effect.

Perhaps it's now boosted, considering neither of you should be fucking each other at this point. At least not now, that you've started dating men again. 

Nothing too serious, but you've tried to convince everyone that you're already over your ex boyfriend. And if by over you mean completely obsessed and desperate for the way only he knows how to fuck you, then yes: you are over him.

“Feels good?” Hyunjin asks through gritted teeth, pressing his forehead against yours. You can feel tears of his sweat mixing with yours, his fresh and minty breath fanning your cheeks and eyelashes. You nod desperately, swallowing thickly in hopes of being able to articulate a single, monosyllabic word. Yet the way he feels inside your pussy is too overwhelming to even let you form a coherent response. “Do you really think he could fuck you hard like this? Make you this wet?”

He could, but you're never going to know anyway. 

“That’s why you keep crawling back to me,” he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut when he feels your walls convulsing around him, “that's why you keep letting me fuck you”. 

It was for the best, you repeat yourself every time he thrusts his cock deeper inside you. It was for the best, but that doesn't necessarily mean it was what you wanted.

Ending things off with Hyunjin seemed like the only way to go —you two just didn't work out, no matter how hard each one of you tried. 

You loved each other, but it was kind of a sick love, a poisonous one. One would think they'll be able to live through it, but it eventually consumes you.

It ignites a fire that can never be put down. And living amongst flames it's not exactly what either of you were looking for. 

“Right there,” you cry out, the pathetic sounds being drowned by the music and party bustle happening outside the club's restroom where your date is patiently waiting for you.

Does he know Hyunjin is fucking you just meters away from him? Does he know you're going back home with a sore pussy and cum trailing down your legs?

Hyunjin’s cock twitches at the idea of him finding out you’re being dicked down by none other than your ex. 

The one you claim to be over with. 

The one whose memory, you assured, wasn't a threat to a new relationship.

“Yeah, right here?” Damned be him, who knows you maybe too well. You suppress a scream when his palm digs into the flesh of your lower tummy, pressing down hard where the tip of his cock is brushing the deepest spots within you, “can you feel me here? Can you feel how hard my dick is?”

You moan in response. 

You can feel him there, and everywhere. You can feel his slim fingers pressed against the flesh of your hips. You can feel the tip of his nose buried on your neck, and his lips leaving a wet trail everywhere they go. You can feel his pulse, his heavy breathing.

The despair of being without fucking you for so long.

“That’s it,” Hyunjin groans when he feels you grinding your hips against his, lifting them up ever so slightly over the restroom sink. When you start forcing yourself against him, to do anything to feel him closer, he knows you're close to cumming. “That’s it, pretty, come and get what you want from me like you always do”. 

You have no other choice but to arch your back, the overwhelming pleasure taking control not only of your limbs but your whole body. You wrap your arms around Hyunjin's neck and your legs around his hips  tightly, pulling him as close as humanly possible.

“Just like that,” he praises you, licking his lips when his eyes fall to where your bodies connect. 

Hyunjin feels like he could come with that sight alone, but he needs to elongate it. What if you go back home with the man you're supposed to be on a date with, and decide that you want something serious with him? What if it's the last time he ever gets to fuck you? 

Hyunjin can't just come like that. He can't come without engraving the way your body feels inside his brain.

He can't come without letting his mouth speak freely what his pride doesn't allow him to say on a regular day.

Hyunjin can't come just yet. He needs you a bit more. A little bit longer.

“C-coming,” you sob against his neck, feeling him holding you tightly when your body trembles almost aggressively, “don’t stop, Hyunjin. D-don’t fucking stop”.

Not that he intended to.

Instead, he pushes his hips harder. Deeper. His hands move from your hips to your ass, and he uses his grip as leverage to piston even rougher inside you. 

So much so, you wince in pain. You don't want him to stop, but you can feel the built up tension exploding little by little. 

Like fireworks, one after the other.

“See?” Hyunjin groans, taking it upon him to help you ride your high. He doesn't slow down, despite how your nails are digging into his hair and the flesh of his nape. “We've broken up but your body still remembers me. You’re still so weak for me”. 

You hate how right he is, but you can't argue back. 

After going without each other for so long, almost 4 months, you didn't expect your body to react like this to his touch.

But it appears as if it has a mind of its own, one to which you have no access to. 

“No,” you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. The waves of pleasure travel from your core to the tip of your toes, and from your erect nipples to the thin hairs on your arms. You’re covered in goosebumps and can barely even remember any other name that’s not Hyunjin’s. “I’m not- I’m just-”.

It’s pointless to try and say something back. You're making a fool of yourself and you know it, but it seems as if your dignity always appears right at the epitome of the post-nut clarity. 

With Hyunjin's dick still inside you, you know such clarity is not going to last long, but you're going to hold on to it for as good as it lasts. 

“You’re just what?” He taunts you, guiding one of your hands from your arse to your face. He takes your cheeks and cups them, forcing your lips into a pathetic pout. “Desperate for me? For my touch?”

You try to shake your head as a way of saying no because your mouth can only do so much, but Hyunjin keeps you in place.

“No?” He asks you, frustration lingering on his tone. “Wasn’t this what you wanted all night long?”

4 months ago, things seemingly followed the natural course of them.

After much fucking and bickering, even after having broken up, you two parted ways —Hyunjin immersed himself in his profession, and you did the same. The late night calls weren't taken as frequently, and the drunken messages stopped receiving any sort of response.

It seemed as if you were already over each other —not only over the relationship, but those strange encounters you kept on having too. 

That was, of course, way long before tonight's affair. 

“No,” you whine yet again, trying to convince yourself that all that is happening wasn’t provoked and invited by you. “I was just- with my date”. 

“And where is that date of yours right now, pretty?” His voice is trembling, but Hyunjin still manages to keep his composure. 

He has always been the one to have the last word in everything, that much you know. And how could he not, when his voice stands strong even at moments like this, when his mind is completely losing control.

“You don’t even know, right?” 

He teases you, mouth slightly agape while a series of grunts and gasps escape his lips.

Sadly, he is getting closer.

“You don’t even know where he is because you stopped caring about him the minute you saw me, right?” The cockiness in his voice is a painful reminder that you're not as strong-willed as you think you are. Not only that, but it also reminds you of how true Hyunjin is. “You’re so easy to read, so f-fucking easy”. 

You clench around him when you hear how he struggles to keep on talking. The way he runs out of breath, and each groan that follows every word is getting you going way more than it should. 

“That gaze of yours-” Hyunjin continues, nibbling at his plump bottom lip while his cat-like eyes find yours in the middle of the neon lights, “always tells me exactly what you want”. 

The look. The sight that will be forever imprinted in Hyunjin’s mind for good.

That look you used to give him when you were on your knees, with your hands wrapped around his length and the tip of his cock hitting the deepest part in your throat. 

That look you always gave him when the tip of his dick slid for the first time that night inside of you, along with that sigh of relief that escaped your lips every time it happened.

The look. 

When you saw him standing right across from you at the club, Hyunjin could decipher your gaze easily. 

After all, he is the one who knows you the most. 

“And I know this is what you want, right?” He asks you, increasing the speed of his thrusts. They get rougher as they get sloppier, completely losing the steady and sensual rhythm he set at first. 

You press your lips in a thin line, shutting your eyes close right after they threaten to start spilling tears from them. 

Hyunjin is always too much to take, and you're not sure if you love it or hate it. 

“I know you miss me just as much as I do,” Hyunjin gasps, salty drops of sweat traveling from his temples to your chest and tummy. “You can try to get over me, but I know you won't,” each word is accompanied by a harsh thrusts of his hips. 

It feels like a threat, but it's a fact.

“You don’t want to get over me, you just want to pretend,” he's fully aware of how loud he is being. How whiny his words are coming off, how desperate he sounds overall. But he can’t help himself, not when he is so close to tasting that sweet relief he has been craving for months now. “You can fuck- every man you want-, but it is always going to be me who you think about when you're coming around their cocks”. 

With that, he lets out a raspier, more primal grunt. One that’s explosive enough to stop him right on his tracks, breathing heavily while his head hangs low. 

You can feel his dick twitching inside of you, just right after you came around him for the third time tonight. 

Unexpected, without a warning. 

Your orgasm washed over you just as quickly as Hyunjin's did. With a dry throat and strangled breath you look at each other, feeling his hot arousal pumping inside you, painting your walls white. 

One would think that there's nothing left to say. Not when you're in this state of frenzy, completely unaware of your surroundings. 

But, as usual, Hyunjin has to have the last word.

“That is, if they can get you to come at all”. 

[seeingivy]

death by a thousand cuts

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

an: a wild taylor as gojo has appeared. enjoy. satoru as taylor swift anon who is always in the asks, this is for you. i see you and i hear you.

--

“holy shit. there’s no way you’re on his fucking linked in during class?” megumi whispers. 

you feel your eyes widen as you look to your left to find a very, deeply distraught megumi staring at you. and it’s almost like clockwork, the way he abandons his accounting spreadsheet – and quickly slides into the messages app on his laptop. 

the three consecutive buzzes of your phone thrum under your thigh come before you see nobara and yuuji turn their heads back, two rows ahead of you in the lecture hall, and looking awfully more distraught than megumi. 

“you’re kidding.” nobara mouths. 

“freak!” yuuji whispers, earning you a set of weird glances from the group at your right. 

you glare at the two of them, before turning to megumi and bringing your foot down on top of his. megumi winces, giving you a very characteristic and unbothered eye roll, before he returns to finishing up his spreadsheet. 

you pull your hood up over your ears, cheeks warm and pink from embarrassment, before you focus back on the screen. 

you know that he’s right. that there is really no point at looking at his account – not when you have all of the details memorized. 

Satoru Gojo  Senior Data Science Student @ Tokyo Technical Institute 

three work experiences. data analytics intern for the justice project. hackathon project lead. meadow investments development engineer. 

two degrees under his education. because he’s dual enrolled and set to get a bachelor’s in computer science and a masters in engineering by the end of his term next year. 

and one organization. alpha kappa psi, the business fraternity. 

the only reason you were at the scene of the crime.  

it was all miwa’s fault. and partially yours, for being so willing to come to her aid – at all times. when she asked you to accompany her to the bid party – just because she wanted to support mechamaru fresh in their new relationship and didn’t do too well in social situations – you had all but obliged. at the most, you would get a cheap shot and brownie points to get miwa to run the errands for the entire month. 

except when it came to it, miwa wasn’t nervous at all, only because mechamaru had spent the past few weeks hyping her up to his pledge class. which left you alone, stuck to roam around until she was ready to leave at the end of the night. 

the floor was sticky with beer, there was an almost rancid, putrid smell lingering in the air that you couldn’t pinpoint, and you were stuck with sixty of your peers – shitfaced to a point you didn’t even know was humanly possible. 

and with miwa long gone, doing god knows what with mechamaru and you were stuck leaning against the fridge, bored out of your mind. that’s when he found you – pawing your way through the food. 

his smell was the first thing that caught your attention, second to the fact that he was hovering over your shoulder, cheeks brushing against each other. it was almost minty and stark – almost eradicating the lingering smell of weed that was burning your nose. 

the skin on his cheek was soft, featherlike when it brushed against yours. 

“whatcha doing, dollface?” 

you immediately curl your nose, turned off by the unnecessary sweetness. you had your fill of dirty frat boys during orientation week, three years ago, and knew damn well that you had to steer clear of whatever was happening here. 

“playing where’s waldo, genius. i’m obviously looking for food.” you state. 

you reach for the closest box, a perfectly cut slice of cake, encased in a wrap. the plastic is covered in messy scribbles on the top – spelling out satoru in loopy letters. 

“you’re just going to eat someone else’s cake?” he asks. 

“how do you know it’s not mine?” 

“intuition.” 

it’s only then that you stop yourself to look up at this stranger whispering in your ear, only to find glimmering blue eyes, peering over the top of a set of sunglasses. the sunglasses are god awful – even worse with the combination of the tanktop and the snapback he’s wearing backwards.  

you swear there’s a faded, glittery pink lipstick mark indented at the top of his cheek. 

“you-you’d be shocked.” you stutter, as you pull the box out of the fridge and place it on the counter. 

he momentarily walks away – which is when you take the second to ogle him in full. a toned back, a tattoo on the top of his shoulder that you can’t entirely make out. white hair, veiny arms, and a silver necklace hanging against his collarbone. 

he returns back, two forks in hand, before making a dramatic display of handing you one. 

“for you, my sweet lady.” 

“i’m not sure why you brought two forks. who said i was going to share with you?” 

he grins, leaning his head back to laugh like a little kid, before he scoots closer to you – the sweet scent coming back. 

“c’mon.” 

he reaches for your hand, before lifting it to place it against his chest. you can feel his heart beating under the feeling of your fingertips, his eyes wide and expectant as he waits for and answer. 

“do me a favor, yeah? let me share my cake with a pretty girl at a party. there’s only a limited amount of joys in this life.” 

you scoff, before pulling your hand back. 

“you’re corny.” 

he shrugs. 

“you’ll get used to it.” 

you groan, as you slam your computer shut – the image of his shiny headshot staring back at you getting burned into your eyes. 

stupid. stupid, stupid, stupid. 

one stupid joke, a slice of cake, and somehow you woke up in his bed the next day being spooned by him. and one thing led to the next because he was somehow taking you to brunch, then settling his head in between your legs before dinner, and then back at your house the next day. 

it was an arrangement at that point. the dinners, what happened in between, and the morning after. 

you’re not sure what the terms and conditions are in a predicament like yours – with a guy like satoru. you know for a fact that he still flirts with other girls, because you’d see him walking with a different one every time you stopped at the coffee shop. but then he’d invite you to dinner, honey sweet words falling from his lips before he tucked you in for bed each night. 

friends with benefits. but he buys you gifts and takes you to dinner. and calls you beautiful. comes to your house after frat parties, with the faintest scent of a flowery perfume on his neck that you swear you’re imagining. 

letting him walk out of your apartment was your own personal tourture, of death by a thousand cuts, because every step farther away from you was closer to someone else. 

and that sinking, deep rooted dread, only got worse as time went on. 

you feel a hard smack against your head. 

“do your fucking homework.” 

--

satoru gojo has distinct features that you always find yourself staring at. a mole on his shoulder, a scar on his pointer finger, and the rings he wore. sometimes, you find yourself asking them about him. 

you reach forward, locking your fingers in on the chain around his neck, and using it to pull him closer. it's of a little postage stamp, though the silver looks rusted – like he’s worn it to death. he’s quick to oblige, a warm kiss on your cheek, before you yank again. 

“what, baby?” he whines. 

“where’d you get your necklace?” 

he leans back, looking down at the chain, before his eyes meet yours again. there’s a dim fluorescent glow coming in from the blinds of the window, sun far gone in the horizon, and it’s the only thing that makes this bearable. 

that his piercing blue eyes somewhat subdued from the lack of light. 

“you want it, princess?” 

“what? no. i just like it. i wasn’t –” 

it’s a boyish giggle that comes out of satoru’s mouth as he quickly unfastens the clasp from his neck before tangling it in his fist. 

you’re not an idiot – because it’s his freezing cold fingers pulling your shirt over your head – before he pulls you into his lap. 

this was one of satoru’s favorite things to do. pull you close, till you’re straddling him in his lap, and you can feel his breath tickling against his collarbone as he whispers sweet nothings to you. 

you wonder if he can see your blush in the dim light. if that’s part of why he likes it – seeing the effect he has on you. 

he reaches forward, pulling your hair to the side and pressing a kiss to your collarbone, before he fastens his silver necklace around your neck. 

“you know. when i said i liked your necklace, i said i liked it on you. i wasn’t asking for it.” 

“but i like seeing you wear it more.”

satoru’s eyes are focused as he fixes the tangles in the chain, letting the little charm hang right in the little divot where your collarbone ends. and then he brings his hands in around your face, nearly squishing the softness of your cheeks together, before he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“will you wear my hoodie?” he jokes. 

you scoff. 

“are we in sixth grade? also, it quite literally says ‘yuuta’s big’ on the sleeve. that’s not obvious at all.”  

satoru rolls his eyes. 

“you would love yuuta, though. he’s your pseudo little brother, because you’re with me, you know?” 

you shake your head, as you crawl out of his lap, and reach for the water bottle on the side table. you try to ground yourself, head spinning as you try to decipher what that means – and tap your feet on the floor. 

you can feel him at your side, his observant blue eyes burning holes into your skin, as you note the steady, almost cautious tone in his voice. 

“you okay? something i said?” 

you shake him off. 

“yeah, yeah. sorry. got out of the mood there for a second, just have a lot to do this week.” 

satoru hums, before bringing his hands around your torso, leaning his entire weight against you as he settles his chin into the crook of your neck. 

“you ever think you work too hard, pretty girl?” 

“working hard or hardly working?” you joke. even his corny jokes were rubbing off on you. 

you hear satoru scoff, before he starts rubbing circles into the bare skin of your stomach, as the goosebumps start to trickle over your skin. 

“oh, don’t be like that. you’re the smartest person i know.” 

“is this a clever way to get into my pants?” 

“no. it’s me telling you that i think you’re very intelligent, you’re very driven, and you don’t have to worry about if you’re working hard enough. i know the only breaks you take are to go to that dumb movie theater downtown with your grumpy friend or when you scream my name every –” 

“satoru.” you whine. 

“don’t say my name like that. it turns me on.” 

you grin. 

“satoru.” you hum, teasing him. 

“fuck off.” 

he pauses, before pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your neck. 

“but really. you’re a clever, you’re pretty, and irritatingly very accomplished. slow down so i can catch up, okay?” 

“that’s rich coming from you. mister three internships, two degrees in four years.” 

it’s quiet. 

“how’d you know that?” satoru asks. 

you can hear the smile in his voice. and the dread pooling in your stomach. 

“what?” 

“how’d you know it was two degrees?” 

“you-you told me.” 

“no, i didn’t. i just got accepted a few weeks ago, i haven’t even told some of my friends yet.” 

you groan, before bringing your hands up to your face. you bury your eyes into the sockets of your eyes, getting caught embarrassedly red handed. 

“where?” 

you sigh. 

“i stalked you on linked in.” 

satoru grins wide, before pulling you back onto the bed and into his embrace. you can hear his giggling in your ear as you try to pull away. 

“oh, baby you didn’t.” 

“i had to make sure i didn’t apply where you worked!” 

“no, you didn’t. we don’t even work in the same field.” 

“you don’t know! i could change my mind!” 

satoru laughs, before leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your lips. 

“you have a crush on me! angel, you should have just said so!” 

you give him a hard push, before crossing your arms over your chest. 

“quit teasing. so i’m a stalker! so what? i just want to make sure i’m not putting out for a loser. you could be coding some AI for the government for all i know and i don’t want to be –” 

“okay, okay. relax. i’m just teasing, i just think it’s cute you keep tabs on me.” 

you glare. 

“i don’t like you.” you state. 

he rolls his eyes, before flopping his head down on your pillow and tapping the space next to him. you crawl into the space, before nestling yourself into his arms. you can feel your brain spiraling – instant regret for saying too much, being too weird, too harsh, and not saying what you felt – as you focus on the feeling of his hands running through your hair. 

“i can tell that the hamster in your brain is working overtime. just go to bed, okay?” 

“okay, lock the door when you leave?” 

“i don’t have plans tomorrow morning. if you could humble yourself to eat breakfast with me, i’d actually like that.” 

you frown, stomach jolting in your guts. 

he had never stayed for an arbitrary reason – like spending the night just to sleep next to you. you shut your eyes, burying your face deeper into the sweet smell of his skin, and throw the thought away. 

“mimosas?” 

“you want to drink that early in the morning?” 

“it’s saturday. gives me a good kick to start my day.” 

“aren’t mimosas made with champagne? i hate champagne. and it makes you really handsy.” 

you smile. 

“you like when i’m handsy.” 

“i mean, yes. but we can just do pancakes and go to the library together so we can do work. i’ll keep you accountable and find you snacks when you get inevitably cranky. then when you come home all tired, we can be as handsy as we want. it’s more satisfying when you have to work for it.” 

you groan, burying the complications of spending yet another day with him in the back of your head as you try to flutter your eyes shut – in futile attempts to quiet the thoughts racketing around in your mind. 

“okay, okay whatever. we’ll see tomorrow, i just – i’m really tired right now and –” 

“shut up, dollface. just sleep.” 

--

you get invited to the alpha kappa psi formal. miwa – who found out from mechamaru, whose pledge class brother is very close with satoru’s little yuuta – said that satoru wanted you there. 

then why didn’t he ask you? 

you bite the bullet anyways, borrowing one of kugisaki’s pale blue slip dresses – and attend as mechamaru’s pledge brother – todo’s date – to get in. 

he’s a strange guy, who doesn’t pay you too much attention. it’s one polite wave and a cardstock ticket he hands you before you don’t see him again for the rest of the night. and you’re stuck with miwa and mechamaru, who are bigger fans of pda than you are. 

“how’s satoru, y/n?” mechamaru asks. 

“ah. he’s good. you know as much as i do, right?” 

you can feel yourself sweating. 

would satoru leave if you said too much? if you embarrassed him in front of one of his brothers? did they know you guys had an…arrangement? was it an arrangement? were you seeing each other? why did they think he invited you? 

“dunno. aren’t you guys really good friends?” mechamaru asks. 

“um, yeah.” 

“yeah, he was telling us you studied together at the library the other day. figured he’d want you to meet suguru and ieiri.” 

suguru and ieiri. 

“yeah. i’m gonna go get a drink. do you guys want anything?” 

“i’m good, love. we’ll be here.” miwa states, giving a reassuring squeeze to your bicep before you drag your heels to the makeshift bar. 

you walk over to the bar, straight to the open bottle of rosé that has your name on it, as you lean against the wall. you pour way too much into your flute, nearly spilling it over the back of your hand, as you curse. 

“do you want help?” 

you look up to find a boy looking at you, wide eyes, with his bangs sweeping down the side of his face. he has tired eyes, but it’s a seemingly bright smile he offers you. 

“sorry, yeah. i’ll clean it up, i swear.” 

“no, no. no problem.” 

he hands you a handkerchief from his pocket, before he pulls your hand in his and wipes the excess pink stain on it. you cringe at the stain on the cloth before he tucks it back into his pocket. 

“i’m sorry about that. that’s really kind of you, i just –” 

“no problem! you seemed…kind of frustrated there. happy to help.” 

you shoot him a polite smile, before nervously sipping – maybe a little too fast for comfort. but the warm feeling is enough to temporarily curb the nerves, which is perfect for your sake. 

“are you a brother?” you ask. 

“yeah! is this your first formal?” 

“yeah. i’m seeing someone in your frat and he asked me to come. well, he didn’t ask me to come, he told someone else he wanted me to come so i came as one of the other brother’s date. but not really his date, because i haven't seen him since then. or the guy i’m talking to.” 

he leans back, eyes wide. 

“right. do you like him? if…if you mind me asking.”  

“my date? i can’t even remember his name. he’s like a tall, muscular guy. man bun?” 

“no, yeah. his name is todo, i figured that’s who you were talking about. i mean the other guy.” 

“oh. well, yeah. but he’s so…i don’t know. he’s a frat guy. and a chronic flirt. the first time i met him he had a lipstick stain on his cheek. and he smells like girly perfume every time he comes to see me, so –” 

he sucks his teeth in. 

“idiot.” he murmurs. 

“what?” 

“no! oh my god, not you! i meant…me! just thought of something. gotta run for a second, i’ll be back.” 

“wait, you didn’t even tell me your –” 

you watch as he rushes off, in a speed walking fervor, as mechamaru and miwa join you at your side. they give you a polite smile, which you return, as you swirl the glass in your hand. 

“mechamaru. do you know that guy who just walked away? tired looking, the long hair?” 

“oh, yuuta. yeah, what about him?” 

“yuuta?” 

“yeah, you’ve never met him? he’s like gojo’s pride and joy.” 

you sink against the wall, embarrassment coursing through you, as you down the rest of your glass. and then three more, which is accompanied by weary looks from miwa. and after finishing off the entire bottle – an hour and a half into the party without seeing satoru – you’re set on leaving. 

and it’s only on your rageful stomp out the door, well past tipsy, that you find the godawful man of the hour, leaning against the wall. 

it’s enough to fill you with a rage. because he’s leaning against the wall, shirt slightly unbuttoned, and smiling brightly at whichever girl he’s talking to. you’re almost positive that it’s probably her flowery perfume that you’re smelling on his neck at the time, that she’s who he sees when he’s not with you, and it’s like pins and needles in your stomach. 

and you almost make your escape, before he catches you on your way out. 

“y/n? wait, y/n!” 

you’re one step out the door, before he grabs your bicep, and pulls back, giving you a bright grin. 

“i didn’t know you were here yet. i’ve been waiting, come here, c’mhere.” satoru mumbles, quickly rushing you over to the group of three people standing by the door, who all turn their heads for you. 

you groan as you turn to the group of them. it’s the same tired eyes as before – that you now know belong to yuuta – and two strangers you’ve never seen before. a guy almost as tall as satoru, with swooping bangs and a manbun, and the girl – who you can’t stand to look at, with perfect beach waves swooping past her shoulders. 

and what you can’t help but notice is a sparkling, silver postage stamp necklace around her neck. the same one around yours, that you had been fidgeting with since satoru gave it to you weeks ago. 

“here’s your drink, satoru.” the girl states, handing him a glass of white wine that he takes. 

it’s enough to make your rage bubble to the surface. 

“the lady of the hour, guys! this is y/n, she’s my –” 

you scoff. 

“are you kidding?” 

“hm?” 

“lady of the hour? for what, your jokes?” 

you watch as satoru’s face drops, before he sets the glass of wine down on the closest table. 

“huh? what do you mean? i wanted to introduce you to ieiri, i know you’re going to love her.” 

 you can feel the tears accumulating in your eyes, that you’re almost positive that satoru notices, because his face visibly droops even more, this time replaced with genuine concern that sends a pang in your chest that has you wrestling your wrist out of his hold. 

“you…you’re so mean, satoru.” 

“baby, what?” 

“don’t…why are you calling me that? every morning you wake up next to me and you’re still not my baby. that’s not exactly fair. you smell like a different girl and you still…you still flirt with other people.” you whisper. 

his eyes go wide. 

“no, i –” 

“every time you walk away i’m half convinced you’re just going to someone else you’re stringing along like me. i’m sitting there thinking about how you’ve walked hundreds of steps away from me hundreds of times and it feels like a thousand little cuts every time you do and it kills me that you don’t even care.” 

you can feel that whatever is coming out is word vomit, like it’s started and now it won’t ever stop. 

“i see you everywhere, because you literally come everywhere with me just to leave. any song you’ve sang is now our song, any movie, literally anything you’ve even touched. i can’t even wear certain clothes without thinking about how you complimented me in them and i’m stuck thinking about how you probably say that to everyone. you don’t even drink wine and you’re over here drinking some with this random girl at this party, when that’s my thing that we drink wine together. you gave her the same necklace as me, and you apparently asked me to come to but didn’t even tell me about to my face? then you sick your little frat brother to ask me if i like you just so you can….i don’t know, i don’t know what you’d do with that information!” 

you watch as satoru pinches the bridge of his nose, only to turn to the three of them at his side, who are all shaking their heads dismissively. 

“suguru. i fucking told you he had to be leaving something out.” 

“well, i didn’t realize it was going to be like this, shoko. no wonder she won’t date him.” 

you swallow hard, as you seem to sink deeper in the pits of your own embarrassment, which seems to be a record low. 

“fuck. you…you said her name is shoko?” 

geto offers you a smile. 

“that’s right.” 

“like satoru’s hometown friend? the…the lesbian?” 

“that would be me.” she confirms. 

you cringe. 

“oh my god. i’m really sorry, i’m really drunk. i drank an entire bottle of wine after i accidentally talked to yuuta and i just –” 

“well, i’d get drunk if i were you too. he smells like other girls? and flirts with them?” shoko asks. 

“i do not! i don’t even know what you’re talking about. i didn’t even know she even liked me back till twenty minutes ago.” 

“the necklace is a nice gesture. satoru, geto, and i all have these matching postage stamp necklaces from this shitty place in our hometown. we got them together when we graduated so we wouldn’t forget about what was important when we all go to college.” 

you turn to satoru. 

“and you just gave that to me?” 

“well, i knew you’d take care of it.” 

“that’s like…that’s like sentimental, satoru. you literally gave me your childhood best friends memento and that’s so-” 

“well, obviously that seems like a little much if you think we’re just friends with benefits!” 

you scoff. 

“you’re the one who wanted to be friends with benefits.” you clarify.

“what are you talking about? you literally cringe away from any affection i give you!” satoru retorts. 

“because you flirt with other girls!” 

“not since you! why would i flirt with other people?” 

“you tell me. i smell the perfume.” 

satoru groans. 

“that’s your perfume, dipshit. you left your hoodie at my house and it smells like you so sometimes i sleep next to it and then i smell like it. how do you not recognize your own smell?” 

you pause. 

“you do what?” 

“not in a fucking weird way. i just miss you when you’re busy. you smell nice, it’s –” 

“hopeless.” yuuta states, earning him a nod from suguru. 

“you didn’t even ask me to come here with you.” you state. 

“shoko had to be my date so she could come. i had to make yuuta drag maki in through a window because geto was his plus one. i just wanted you here so you could meet my childhood friends, who i care about. they’ve heard about you for so long that i just thought –” 

“you talk to your friends about me?” 

“an insufferable amount. though most of his agony seems self inflicted now, because he’s a fucking idiot.” shoko confirms. 

“okay, let’s get y/n some water, yeah?” yuuta suggests, before shuffling the two of them off, to which satoru sends a grateful smile before turning back to you. 

he crouches down a little, just so your eyes are level, as you frown at him. 

“is this what that hamster in your brain is doing up there? overthinking literally everything?” 

“you –”

“if you asked, i would have clarified for you. we’ve always been exclusive and if you talked to someone else while we were talking, i’m going to have to kill him.” 

“don’t be stupid.” 

“i’ll just send a threat! sign his emails up for scientology. he was talking to my girl!” 

you glare at him. 

“you…you’re so stupid, satoru. you confuse me so much and i just…you take up too much space. you’re everywhere – literally no part of me that you haven’t taken up and i just…” 

satoru frowns, before pulling his hands around your face, and angling up by your chin to look at him. 

“don’t give up now. it just got good.” he whispers. 

“satoru.” 

“cmon. let me lick all thousand of your cuts clean.” 

“ew. you’re…you’re so gross, satoru.” 

“okay, that was just a dirty joke. but let me make it up to you, really. i didn’t realize you…you were thinking all that. i thought you just liked me because i was sexy and because i eat your –” 

“satoru!” 

“please. let me into that hamster ball in your brain. i deserve some space.” 

“it’s all boarded up. the hamster ball house burned down.” you groan. 

he leans back, like he’s inspecting your face, before he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“dunno. i’m seeing some flickering lights in there. i can tell your hamster in there really wants me.” 

“quit….quit calling me a hamster! you’re so…ugh. i have a headache and i’m drunk and i’m really confused and i just –” 

satoru mimics a little salute, before he loops his hand around your waist and walks you towards the little bar. 

“okay, test run. i’m on boyfriend duty. if this goes well enough, you give me a chance tomorrow.” 

you squint your eyes at him. 

“okay, water first. then i have two baby aspirin for you in my pocket. three kisses on the cheek if you won’t insult me after and a compliment if you won’t kill me.” 

“really?” 

“yuuta told me you downed a whole bottle. since you’re too mad to be handsy, you have a headache. but don’t worry, i came prepared. meaning i forced yuuta to find some baby aspirin or else. and also, kisses because you smell good and you’re wearing this pretty blue dress that’s the same color as my eyes and you’re about to meet my favorite people ever and you’re my favorite person ever, so this is a big deal.” satoru responds.

he’s rambling so hard that you feel like you can see the hamster in his mind working overtime. 

--

“what’s the verdict?” 

satoru’s voice is like a thousand bullets in your head as you smack him in the face, trying to silence the chattering coming out of his mouth. 

“satoru. what…what time is it?” 

“six in the morning. but it’s the next day and i need to know how my test run went.” 

“your….what?” 

satoru whines. 

“no, no don’t tell me you’re too drunk to remember? my test run! to be your boyfriend?” 

you groan, flickering your eyes open to the alarm clock on your bed, spelling out the time. 6:07 am. 

“no, i remember. you need the answer at six in the morning when i’m hungover?” 

“this is agony! i really get this whole thousand cuts thing now, this hurts. tell me.” 

you push his face into the pillow, before mumbling it as quietly as you can. 

“you pass.” 

“huh?” 

“you heard me. you passed. just…shut up, please.” 

it’s his giggles you hear before sleeping and a warm kiss on your forehead, before you pass out again. 

--

satoru as taylor swift songs masterlist

taglist: @invisible-mori @porridgesblog  @k0z3me  @kayleegomez @yihona-san06  @bsenpai  @sweetenertea  @skzismyhome @mykyoon  @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters  @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot  @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @torureadz @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga

[cottonlemonade]

omg this idea is so cute i love it so much🫶

can i have a medium, warm milk with honey to go for sunarin please?

Night Routine

word count: 509 || avg. reading time: 2 mins.

pairing: University AU!Suna x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

request: fluffy night routine with your boyfriend Suna

“I wanna go home.“, Rin whined as he slumped over, face pressed against the pages of his text book.

You highlighted a promising title on your reading list when you replied, “No one‘s stopping you.“

Your boyfriend turned his head to look up at you from the desk, narrowing his eyes in pouty annoyance, “No, your home.“

Suppressing a little chuckle you reached out to run your fingers through his hair and he grumbled but relaxed.

“Gimme like two minutes to go over this page again and then we‘ll leave, alright?“

Rin closed his eyes and nodded, enjoying your touch.

In fact, he asked for another 5 minutes of you playing his hair before he let himself be pushed off the chair to get going.

The library was quite empty when you walked through the big lobby, Rin’s fingers interlaced with yours, his step eager to finally reach freedom. Taking in the fresh night air in deep breaths he pulled you along. On the way back to your apartment you stopped to get a bubble tea and then discussed what kind of take-out you‘d order tonight.

Now, everyone and their front yard cherry tree knew that Rin was whipped for you but only few had ever seen the extent of it.

It usually started in the elevator. He‘d be behind you and wrap his long strong arms around your soft, squishy middle, resting his chin on your shoulder - or uncomfortably on your head when he felt like a menace. On colder days he would wrap his oversized jacket around you at this point, but since the weather was slowly getting warmer, he opted for an extra tight hug instead.

Clinging to you like this you‘d shuffle to your front door and fumble for your keys while he did absolutely nothing to help.

Once inside, it took a minute or two, followed by a lot of kisses for him to let you go.

As per usual, he jumped at the opportunity to shower first, taking great pleasure in trying out quite literally all your bath products and coming out of the bathroom smelling like a sweet fruit smoothie, the towel wrapped around his head like you taught him. He ordered the previously agreed upon take-out while you took a steaming hot shower that was long enough to slow cook a medium sized country chicken, and then joined him on the couch for a movie and cuddles. After finishing up your dinner - pizza that night - you‘d decide on a face mask and take turns applying it for the other. Suna would snap about a dozen pictures of you both pulling faces under increasing difficulty as the mud masks began to dry.

Then you‘d go to clean your faces, Rin making a mess of the sink in the process.

As you both brushed your teeth, he combed your hair, toothbrush hanging from one corner of his mouth.

He‘d give your butt a playful slap when he was done, offered you a minty fresh kiss and finally shuffled along behind you to bed.

a/n: thank you so much for your request! Please enjoy 😊🌟

for requests see here

[bts-trash-blog]

Best Of Us Hidden Moments

A Hidden Moment following the event of Chapter 24: Never

Summary: just little moments that I thought up their after posting a chapter or just didn't flow like I wanted to

Pairing: Rap Line X Fem!Chubby Omega!Reader

Warning: A/O/B!Vers, angst, fluff, smut(all the warnings on the main story tbh)

A/n: dipping my toes back into the BOU universe with a little hidden moment after the last chapter of BOU I posted well over a year ago(almost two). And god I’ve missed it. This isn’t my official comeback just something for all of you that have stuck around while I found my passion for writing again:) thank you all so much.

PREV...._.Next

You were hot-sticky and thirsty. Three things you absolutely hated-yet you didn't want to leave the panting pile of cuddles. Namjoons was sloppily kissing your shoulder as his fingertips dragged shapes into your skin. Hoseok was on your other side, his lips pressed to the top of your head as your body rested against his chest. Your mind in a haze-dropping into something you could only explain as a blanket of softness- a feeling you’ve never truly felt before as you entered a full drop. You’ve only ever heard of this feeling from your friends, and even then their words don't even come close to this feeling. Light. You felt light for the first time since your first heat, even then it didn’t feel like this.

Your mind is has gone completely blank-your breath slowing more and more with every passing second. Your eyes slowly closing as your fingertips start to mimic the shapes that Namjoon was drawing against you on Hoseok's chest. The feeling of your head rising and falling with each of his breath brought you closer and closer to sleep. Then it's like something snapped in you as Hoseoks grabs a piece of your hair, twirling it between his fingers. It felt like a crashing wave against cracked glass, your shoulders slightly tenseing, so slight you wouldn’t have guessed anyone would have noticed. But you were wrong. It had Hoseok's hand moving under your chin and lifting your head up to look up at him.

“Hi there princess- you there?” His voice was soft- his nose nudging against yours as you shook your head slowly blinking up at him as he chuckled softly at you. “Okay-what about you baby boy?” He asked as the Omega behind you grunted, his chin hooking over your shoulder as you heard him letting out a soft breath.

“I'm good. Just happy.” Namjoons words had Hoseok's chuckling as you blush. Your mind slowly coming back more and more as you grew cold. You’re naked. Holy shit you’re naked.

“Can I get the sheet or something?” You mumbled softly voice slightly shaking. Hearing Namjoon sigh a kiss dragging across your shoulder as he lifted himself from your back. His hand moved to pull you from Hoseok’s chest-a playful growl passing said Alphas lips as you roll onto your back. Your eyes look up and meet his-fuck-they’re blow out and glossed over his swollen lips parted and glossy. The way he gives you a soft smile he suddenly dives on top of you, making a grunt leave your lips. His hips pressed against yours, the feeling of his boxers against your still bare sensitive cunt had your inventory buckling up into him. “Sensitive.” You whimper as he chuckles at you his lips pressing to your scent glands as one of his hands moves down to rub against your outer thigh. One of your hands automatically falls into his messy hair, his breathing almost turned into a purring sounds as a giggle filling the room as you look over to your Alpha. Hoseoks eyes were soft, smile big and his scent was minty pushing around you like a fresh breeze. “Still cold-and kinda naked.” You mumble making the two men laugh as you feel Namjoon rub his cheek against your shoulder.

“Just how we like it-well besides the cold-shit you are cold.” Hoseok mumbled when his hand moved from where it was in your hair to your bare none Namjoon filled should. You watch as the Alphas eyes widen then his body quickly diving down and pulling the flat sheet of the bed over the two of you. His own body stays out from it making your lips turn from a teasing smile to a pout as he tucks the two of you in.Huffing at the Alpha as he tries to leave the bed-hand leaving Namjoons hair your hand wraps around his wrist. Landing back onto his knees on the bed he bends down, one hand landing next to your head as the other cups your face as he pressed a kiss to your lips. Making you mind draw a blank- any and all awareness of being nude underneath Namjoon going away. When he pulls away a pout falls right back onto your lips making him smile down at you, his hand moving to soothe your hair down, then moves his hand to rest on the back of Namjoons head.

“Joonie? Keep pup warm for Alpha-gotta get you guys clean, gonna run the shower. I'll be right back I promise.” His words had the male on top of you nodding as you close your eyes, fingers threading back through Namjoons hair. The feeling of the Omegas lips pressing along your collarbone-the feeling brought chills under every spot he touched. The soft feeling was making you slowly drift as your heart the bathroom door close.

When the feeling of Namjoon lips started to press roughly against your skin-it had your eyes opening. Confusion as the sweet scent of peaches started to go sour. He’s sad? Why is he sad? Does he regret it? Your fingers stopped moving as he let out a shaken breath when he pulled away and looked at you. His eyes wide, blown out as tears suddenly line his eyes making your other leg wrap around his waist rolling the two of you over. Following your instincts without a single thought as you land on top of his chest.

“Omega?” You wonder out loud, hand moving wrapping around his head as your forehead pressed against his. It makes him chirp as his hand rests on top of your thighs, the sound of him swallowing as he takes another shaky breath in had your tilting your head as on of your hands moves to his chin. Moving his forhead to alone with yours as your rested agains him. “Joonie?”

“I thought you were gonna leave us. Leave me. That we ruined everything…that I ruined everything.” He rambles out-it was jumbled together into a whisper of words as you ‘shush’ him though he shakes his head as he blinks. A tear falling down, your thumb caching it as he looks up at you. “Every single second up till this point I thought you’d leave.”

“Joonie, what?” You whisper, making him close his eyes “I was hurt-mad but I wasn’t gonna leave you over this.” You feel as he takes a deep breath in as he smiles softly as his eyes open again. Though his eyes held a twist of sadness as the feeling of his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin nodding. “Do..so you need to talk about it more?” He closes his eyes, twitching his nose as he nods. Eyes opening back up as you give him a soft smile.

“I’m terrified I’m gonna end up being alone.” His voice was a feather like whisper as he kept his eyes locked with yours. “It’s why I’ve alway been so possessive over Hobi and Yoon-what..what if they find someone new? Better more Omega- and just leave? Just leave me?” His voice tapered off as his eyes closed and his scent was rotten pears, overly sweets peaches and soured sweet cream. It had you wanting to almost gag-hearing the shuffling a feet and the smell of Hoseok pushing his scent under the door had you and the Omega below you relax. “I don't know why..just…people leave. I didn't want you to leave. I don’t want you to leave. I need you with me-with our Alphas.” He takes a deep breath in, pink tongue peaking out from his lips as he blinked up at you. The slight gleam of his tears had you hand moving to cup his cheek thumb wiping under his eye as you nod, making him swallow as his eyes close. “Every single one of my partners before the boys left-said I was too much or-or just not enough. That I was the only problem.So I get in my head-and it's hard to get out of it with a new situation…and you’re new.”

“I get that.” You whisper, making him nod eyes open as he leans up lips pressing against yours as a smile lift onto your lips. It makes him smile his dimples in show as you nuzzle your nose to his. “New is hard-change is hard. Time…time helps a lot with change.”

“The boys have also helped a lot they always help me process my thoughts like this…” he pauses as you feel his hand slid from one of your thighs up your hips to your lower back. “Though with you everything is so new and I don’t want to fuck this up and every which way it feels like I am.” You raise your eyebrow, a question on your lips as he sighs up at you-the sound of running water makes your heart speed up. Hoseoks slowly cracked the door, your eyes meeting as you glare softly making his eyes widen as he shuts the door. “See I just fucked up-alpha is trying to do aftercare and I’m making it all about me.” his eyes close-tears falling as you shake your head lips pressing across his cheeks. Every breath he took he seemed to check on, gets each kiss you press seemed to steady his lungs. As you finally land your lips back onto his, the feeling of him finally catching his breath had relief fill you chest. Pulling away hair falling ino your face making you huff. One of his hands reached up, pushing it back over your shoulders.

“Joonie-I want it to be about you-my life is going to be you…and stop saying you’re fucking up baby.”

“But I do-I always fuck up.”

“How? How have you fucked up?”

“I mean I tried to attack you when I first met you.”

“I mean now that I know what you have it makes sense.” Your words had a giggle passing up his chest as his hand moved to grab one of yours, fingers threading together. His lips pressed against your hands as he looked back up at you.

“Or when-when I growled at Bambam.”

“I mean I’d do the same.”

“I’ve growled at your mother.”

“I’ve done the same.”

“I didn’t ask enough questions at the start.”

“You have time now.”

“But what if I’m not enough?” You pause, smile dropping as you move down, pressing your forehead back against his as you take a deep breath in. Hair falling caging your faces together as the sound of the shower running and Hoseok's whistling as the afternoon sun cast between the rooms blackout currents and it gleams against Namjoons skin through your strands of hair. How could he ever think he wasn’t enough? You felt your eyes water, and you felt yourself finally resting fully against him, weighing him down with you entirely. You give him a broken smile as you traced his lips down to his chin with your pointer finger. How could he ever be less than this? Less than perfect. “What if you do leave me? Leave us?”

“Are you gonna leave me?” Your question had him sitting up, your body sliding down to his thighs as he grabs your face and glares.

“Never.” You smile brightly, head tilting as your legs move to wrap behind him as you feel the sheet slip down, arms wrapping around his neck as you kiss him.

“And I wouldn’t want to ever leave you.” You pause your eyes closing as you press your forehead against his. “I’m new with…all of this and the three of you have made me feel so safe…for the most part.” You mumble under your breath as you look into his eyes. “One mistake-one that you three didn’t know was one-isn’t gonna have me leaving.” The words that passed your lips had a rattling breath leave him as you give him a bright smile. Arms wrapped around him as you being to rock the two of you, chirps passing your lips as you notice his scent slowly twisting back. Pears and peaches ripe and sweet. Just how it should be. Hoseok clearing his throat had you blink your eyes open and see at the still very dry Alpha standing at the steam filled bathroom.

“Showers ready.”

“We are too. Come on baby.” You whisper against Namjoon's shoulder pulling away and crawling out of bed. As your feet meet the floor Hoseok was in front of you helping you up out of the bed. A kiss pressed passionately yet softly against your lips has his hand slips from yours to your jaw. It had you breathing a soft puff as he smiled down at you when he pulled away. His nose touching yours as he lets his hands drop from your face.

“Good job pup.” Pride spreads across your chest at the praise given to you. Moving forward and turn waiting for Namjoon as he gets up behind you. “Let's get cleaned up, then we’ll eat.”

“Yay food!” You cheer, making Namjoon giggle as the three of you trail back into the bathroom. You bullying your way into the shower letting the pressurized water spray down on your body first. The heat pelting on your slight tense back as your hand reaches up to go through your hair when you feel your arms sliding around your body. “I'm starving.” You giggle softly making Hoseok laugh as you turn around and sigh as you see his bright smile and bare chest. “I always hear how hungry Lisa or Bam would get after..after stuff and I never got it till now.” You awkwardly giggle as you catch Namjoon slipping into the massive shower his eyes meeting yours. “Anyway…” You trail off blinking quickly as you pull away and look around you the shampoo and conditioner you had used the last time you were here. Seeing it you quickly move to wash it through your hair though Hoseok swats your hand gently away.

“Alpha cleans.” His voice was playful with a smile as you huffed as the feeling of his hands moving to take the shampoo. Soon he was scratching at your scalp making you grunt in response as suddenly Namjoon was moving around the two of you, helping rinse your hair.

“Me next.” He whispered, moving your wet hair to the side and pressing a kiss, quickly you switch places as Hoseok smiles at Namjoon. “Hi Alpha.”

“Hi baby boy. How are you feeling?”

“Better, pup helped a lot.” His words had you look over to Hoseok and smile as the two of you moved to wrap him into your arms. “You guys always help.”

[cvntboyneedsfixed]

me raping your cunt — that will have to wait. first i'm going to make you vividly aware of the thing between your legs. i'm clamping your lips and spreading them wide open, covering your overgrown clit in extra-minty toothpaste and trapping it between two electric toothbrushes to scrub it clean. then i'll scrub you inside out, to make your pussy nice and fresh for myself, and *then* i'll fuck you; not with my cock, a REAL man's cock, you don't deserve that for pretending to be one of us. i'll force frozen can of beer into your cunt instead and fuck you with that until it defrosts and i can drink it. and once you're hyper-aware of your swollen girly pussy, i'm going to move on to your tits. pulling and stretching, spanking them with my belt. if they're not big enough for you to hold your nipples in your own mouth, i'm going to hang weights from them instead, heavy enough for you to cry about feeling like i'm going to tear off your nipples. i'll force them into a tiny pink bra so they get obscenely squashed against your chest and i'll make you stand in front of a window like that, at night, while i stand by the light switch. one flick of my finger and all of your neighbors will know that you're just a pathetic fakeboy. and then, i think, i will turn the light on, and fuck you right there while you beg me not to, and i'll leave you tied up with your pussy facing the glass and your door unlocked. i hope one of those curious neighbors invites themselves in.

🥵🥵🥵

I have to apologize - I kept this one to myself for months because it's my favorite, it made my silly cunt get so wet and I rubbed myself raw to it sooo many times, cumming over and over.

But I'll be a good girl boy and finally let you guys enjoy it too.

Anon thank you for this ask I wish I could tank you by letting you do everything in it to me 😳😳

[p1hypen]

y(ours) — P1HARMONY!hyung line

wherein the members have become acquainted with your personal belongings. ft. non-idol!p1h hyung line x gn!reader. fluff.

a/n: it’s like almost 3am as i’m posting this while also recovering from a cold. enjoy <3

keeho

your shirt.

during the walk to your apartment an abrupt downpour of rain came crashing down on keeho, catching him by surprise. when he reached your unit and knocked on the door, you crooned at the unfortunate state that your boyfriend was in. soaking wet, cold, and shivering. you urged him to take a warm shower and tossed his clothes into the dryer for the time being.

the cycle was still ongoing when keeho hollered from the bathroom that he was finished. with no other option you opted to give him one of your oversized shirts you use to sleep in and a pair of sweatpants that originally belonged to him. how you managed to steal that is beyond his acknowledgment.

when he finally dried himself off and slipped into the articles of clothing you lent him, he bunched the material of your shirt and brought it close to his nose to sniff at it. you always had a nice scent that was a mix of vanilla with a hint of minty freshness. is this how other couple’s feel when they use their partner’s clothings?

keeho stepped into the kitchen where you finished plating both of your guys’ food.

“you look really cute!” you chirped, and he pulled you in for a warm hug.

“you smell really good…” he mumbled into your hair to which you laughed and turned the compliment back to him. commenting on how much you liked the cologne he wears occasionally.

by the time that keeho’s clothes finished drying right after cleaning up the table from dinner, he refused to give back your shirt and declared he would “live in it” until your smell wore off. you weren’t one to oppose, secretly finding it adorable that your boyfriend reminded you quite literally of yourself whenever you’d rummage through his closet for a hoodie or two to melt in.

theo

your tote bag.

more often than not— actually, scratch that. theo always makes you carry his belongings in your tote bag wherever you guys go. sure, you’ve gotten used to it but sometimes you sneak in a little sarcastic eye roll when he asks you to “hold onto his things” (not without giving you a guilty smile of course).

the beach? he’ll find a way to stuff his towel in with yours, only contributing more to the bulkiness of your bag.

the mall? his wallet, lip balm (that he actually stole from you), sunglasses, and other personal trinkets get mixed with yours.

when it’s too hot out? his jacket will find its way into the safe haven of your tote bag.

in the end, you don’t mind carrying his things in addition to your stuff; it’s the least you can do as his partner without making a big fuss over something that isn’t trivial. besides, theo’s a great help when he notices that he may have overloaded your bag with his possessions, and is more than willing to take it off your shoulders to let it dangle on his own.

“it’s only fair that i do this, too.” he once said, as the two of you walked hand-in-hand together, enjoying a brief stroll in the park after getting brunch with a couple of other friends. you giggled, surveying the way he so naturally held onto the straps of your tote bag with his free hand.

little did he know that you were planning on buying one of his own, although, he might just end up leaving that at home and still relying on you as his carrier.

jiung

your jewelry.

jiung is a big fan of your accessories and constantly finds himself digging through your jewelry dish and organizers for some bling to spice up his outfit.

this new habit of his happened one day when he noticed the vintage vivienne westwood necklace looped around your neck. the signature pendant caught his eye, he was quick to compliment the piece of jewelry and said that it looked “really nice.” there was some kind of hinting notion in his voice that egged you on. with a knowing grin, you let jiung have a go at trying it on to see how it looked on him. needless to say, you’re pretty sure he’s worn that very necklace more than you have.

and that’s how his obsession with your collection of silver and gold pieces spurred.

over time, you began to collect more jewelry. purely for you and jiung to share— but mainly for your boyfriend. whenever you’d do your daily online window shopping or in-person window shopping, you would always have jiung’s taste in the front of your mind when considering what to buy next. a lot of what he liked overlapped with you, so things worked out perfectly with every new purchase.

when you came home sporting a pair of earrings he’s never seen you wear before today, jiung rushed to your side to examine it.

“actually, i got one for you too.” you said, revealing his own set. not missing the twinkle in his eyes and big smile.

[mercurygguk]

Risqué jk have you and oc tried cockwarmin maybe letting oc sleep with your cock in her. I'd love to read a drabble or timestamp of this 😩😩😩

risqué ; timestamp #9

18+ content below the cut

pairing; risqué!jk x risqué!oc

genre; smut (cock warming, dirty talk, degradation)

[10:31 AM] "please?"

jungkook feels his cock twitch uncomfortably in his pants as you reach for his chin, gently turning his head until his eyes lock with yours and his attention is refocused from his laptop screen to you.

you lean closer, hovering your lips over his, your breath brushing them, "let me keep you warm while you work, baby."

jungkook's lips part slightly as if to inhale your breaths, the air minty fresh from when you brushed your teeth not too long ago. he lets out a defeated sigh, lips curling into a small smirk as he lets one hand leave the keyboard of his laptop. your own lips copy his, turning upwards in a faint smile when you feel his palm on your bare thigh.

"you wanna sit on my cock while i work, hm?" he asks, voice low and slightly raspy.

the little nod you give him has him growing harder instantly, the soft peck you leave on his lips making his heart jump in a funny way.

he doesn't hesitate to push himself back from his desk, creating space for you. he watches you, keeping his eyes trained on your actions as you push your panties down and step out of them, leaving them on the floor next to his desk chair before straddling his lap.

work leaves his mind for a moment as he pulls you in for a kiss. it's slow and sensual, pulling a gently moan from you as your hands unzip his pants to pull his cock out.

"you're so needy, baby," jungkook groans against your lips as you fist his length, pumping him a few times to make him painfully hard. you keep your mouths connected in a heated kiss as you lift yourself and guide his tip to your entrance.

jungkook hisses as you sit down on him, engulfing him in your warmth. he slides his hands up your thighs once you sit down fully, you bite your lip to prevent moans and whimpers from escaping. jungkook chuckles, giving your thighs a squeeze as he watches your face contort in pleasure.

"so needy you're willing to sit here and wait for me to finish work," he mutters, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you flush against him.

"will do anything to feel your cock, kook-"

you manage to whimper out the words, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging yourself to him.

"mhm, of course you will... my good girl," jungkook smiles proudly against the skin of your neck, leaving a longing kiss there before resting his chin on your shoulder, eyes returning to his laptop screen to continue work.

for the half an hour you stay seated in his lap, keeping his cock hard and warm while he finishes work. he kind of expected you to cause some trouble and interrupt him, distract him and have him fuck you but all you do is occasionally leave gentle, soft kisses against his neck and jaw, patiently waiting until he closes his laptop.

"so patient, baby..." he praises you before kissing you deeply and lifting you to sit on his desk. despite being filled by him for half an hour already, nothing prepares you for the way he fucks you on his desk afterwards.

oh, it's sweet when jungkook works from home.