#F netflix honestly

[trojani]

a series if you will~

[akunemayo]

i’ve literally been so upset at xo, kitty for days

because it’s the cringey whitewashed koreaboo version of a kdrama like it fucks up representing korean culture and language so bad that watching it makes me want to rip out my eardrums

but people still think it’s so cool and it’s really popular and it’s like,,, man. they really did that. they really represented korean society in the most inauthentic, wish version, whitewashed way possible. and people are fucking eating it up.

Lowkey pissed at the disrespect to my culture and language (chinguseok, anyone? go fuck yourself.) and the fact that very few people seem to recognize that it’s not an accurate portrayal at all.

[stinkrascal]

this is my most controversial opinion but you couldnt pay me to give lilith vatore those ugly short bangs

[greengoblinswifey]

Between Takes- Nicholas Chavez x Actress!Reader

summary— you and Nicholas Chavez navigate a tumultuous on-screen rivalry that evolves into a passionate off-screen romance. amidst teasing banter and sizzling tension, a rehearsal kiss blurs the lines between acting and reality.

warnings— enemies to lovers, unprotected sex, oral(f receiving), L bombs, fluff, established relationship.

You and Nicholas play rivals in a popular Netflix show. Your characters are constantly butting heads, with heated confrontations in almost every scene. The fans love the tension, and it’s one of the key dynamics of the show. Behind the scenes it’s the same, but there’s an undeniable spark between the two of you, though neither of you admits it. You’ve developed a bit of a love-hate relationship on set, filled with teasing, sharp comments, and banter that everyone assumes is just your way of staying in character though sometimes it gets overbearing.

One day, after a particularly intense scene, you find yourself doing an interview for a popular entertainment magazine. Sitting across from the interviewer, you try to maintain your composure, but the thoughts of Nicholas linger.

“So, how’s your chemistry with your co-star, Nicholas?” the interviewer asks, a teasing glint in her eye.

You chuckle, rolling your eyes slightly. “Honestly, working with him is like wrestling a bear. He’s arrogant, sometimes late, and way too confident for his own good. The edits are getting to his head.”

The interviewer laughs, and you realize you might have said a bit too much. But it’s all in good fun, right?

“And what about those heated confrontations you have on screen? Are they as fiery off-screen?”

You smirk. “Oh, absolutely. We love to argue. I think it’s half the reason the show is so popular and we’re able to make the show as real as possible.”

The interview ends, and as you step out, you see Nicholas leaning against a wall, arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

“So, I heard your little interview. Arrogant, huh?” he teases, raising an eyebrow.

You cross your arms, feigning indifference. “What can I say? It’s a talent of yours.”

“And what about that kiss scene we have to rehearse today? Think you can handle it?” His voice drops lower, a challenge hanging in the air.

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a rush of excitement. “Please. I’m not the one who needs to worry about handling it.”

As the day progresses, you can’t shake the tension in the air. During a break, Nicholas corners you in the hallway. “You know, I didn’t appreciate what you said in the interview,” he says, his voice low and serious.

You smirk. “I thought we were just having fun. Can’t handle a little friendly competition?” His gaze sharpens, and he steps closer. “It’s not just competition, is it? There’s something more.”

“Like what? A deep-seated desire to kiss my rival?” you reply, your voice laced with sarcasm.

But beneath the teasing, you both feel it, an electricity that has been building over time.

“You might just find out how good I am at kissing,” he says, smirking again, and your heart races at the thought.

The real shift happens during a major storyline arc where your characters have to share a kiss, something neither of you expected. As you both prepare for the rehearsal, the tension is palpable.

When it’s time to kiss, the world around you fades away. The rehearsal kiss is intense, full of the chemistry that’s been simmering beneath the surface. Your heart races as his lips touch yours, igniting something deep within. It’s a spark you’ve both tried to ignore, but now it feels undeniable.

As the kiss breaks, you both stand there for a moment, breathless. “Well, that was, unexpected,” Nicholas says, running a hand through his hair, his usual confidence wavering.

“Yeah, I didn’t think it would feel like that,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nicholas takes a step closer, the air thick with unspoken words. “So, does this mean we’re not just bitter ‘enemies’ anymore?”

You chuckle softly, a smile creeping onto your face. “I guess it depends on how we handle the rest of the season.”

Nicholas smirks, leaning in slightly. “I can handle a lot, trust me.”

“Oh, I bet you can,” you reply, your voice playful but laced with flirtation.

The banter continues, but the teasing has a new edge to it now, hinting at the deeper connection you've both begun to acknowledge. The lines between acting and reality blur, transforming your playful rivalry into something far more passionate.

As you navigate your way through the show, the tension between you escalates both on and off the screen. The two of you find excuses to be near each other, whether it’s rehearsing lines or grabbing coffee between takes. Each moment feels charged, filled with unsaid words and lingering glances.

One evening, after a long day on set, you find yourselves alone in your trailer. Nicholas is leaning against the door, a mischievous grin on his face.

“You know, I think the show would be much better if we had more moments like that kiss,” he says, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“What are you suggesting? We start kissing off-camera too?” you shoot back, your heart racing at the thought.

He steps closer, closing the distance. “Maybe we should. I mean, it’s not like anyone’s watching.” You feel your breath hitch as he inches closer, the teasing in his eyes replaced by something deeper.

“Okay, then. Show me what you’ve got,” you challenge, heart pounding.

Nicholas leans in, capturing your lips again, and this time it’s not just for the cameras. It’s heated, passionate, and everything you’ve both been holding back. In that moment, you both know that the rivalry has turned into something much more complicated, and exciting. As you pull away, breathless and wanting more, you can’t help but wonder what this means for both of you moving forward.

A couple of weeks pass, and while your relationship deepens, it remains primarily physical with lots of kissing but no further progression. As the season approaches its finale, excitement and uncertainty linger in the air.

The end of filming party is at a lively club, filled with cast and crew celebrating the end of a successful season. Music pulses through the air, laughter and chatter surround you as you enjoy the night. You and Nicholas are together, and the playful touches become more frequent. He brushes his fingers against your arm as you talk, igniting warmth in your skin.

As the night goes on, you find yourselves in a corner booth, drinks in hand, laughter spilling between you. Suddenly, Nicholas pulls you closer, his hand resting on your thigh.

“I can’t believe we actually made it through that entire season without killing each other,” he jokes, his voice low and teasing. You lean in, a smirk on your lips. “I think I’ve managed to tolerate your presence.”

He raises an eyebrow, his expression playful yet serious. “Tolerate? Is that all? Because I think we both know it’s more than that.”

In a moment of spontaneity, you lean forward, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. The atmosphere around you dims, and all you can focus on is the way his hands grip your waist, pulling you closer. Gasps and laughter surround you, but you’re lost in the moment, oblivious to the eyes of the other guests.

When you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, and a mixture of surprise and excitement dances in the air.

“Looks like we’re the talk of the party,” you say, glancing around at the surprised expressions on your co-stars’ faces.

“Let them talk. I don’t care,” he replies, his eyes dark with desire.

You share a lingering look, and before you know it, the night wraps up and you’re making your way back to your hotel room together. On the way, Nicholas receives a call for a quick interview about the season’s finale.

“I just have to say a few things. You good with that?” he asks, glancing at you.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you reply, your heart racing as he steps aside to take the call.

As he speaks, you catch snippets of what he’s saying.

“I just want to take a moment to say how much I admire my co-star,” he says, his tone sincere. “She’s incredibly driven, intelligent, and truly talented. I feel honored to have shared the set with someone as smart and passionate as her.”

You can’t help but smile, warmth spreading through your chest at his words. He finishes up the call, walking back toward you, a proud grin on his face.

“What did I miss?” he asks, wrapping his arm around you as you walk into the hotel.

“Just a little praise from your biggest fan,” you tease, leaning against him.

You both enter your hotel room, and the atmosphere shifts again, the earlier tension returning.

“I really appreciate what you said in that interview,” you admit, your voice softening.

Nicholas steps closer, a serious look in his eyes. “I meant every word. You’ve impressed me in ways I didn’t expect.”

Without another word, you lean in, kissing him deeply. The kiss ignites something fierce between you, and suddenly, he’s all over you, hands roaming, breath hot against your skin.

“I want you so bad,” he murmurs against your lips, his desire palpable. “I’ve been aching for you.”

Your heart races as you pull back slightly to meet his gaze, desire burning in your eyes. “Then let’s not waste any more time.”

Nicholas pulls you in for another kiss, his hands gripping your waist as he backs you against the wall. The kisses become frantic as you lose yourselves in the moment, and soon enough, you’re moving to the bed.

Clothes are shed in a frenzy, and as you tumble onto the soft sheets, Nicholas takes his time exploring every inch of your body. He kisses a path down your stomach, sending shivers down your spine. When he reaches your core, he takes his time, skillfully working you to the edge. “You taste so good,” he whispers, his breath warm against you.

You’re surprised at how skilled he is with his tongue and he makes sure to use it to plunge inside you, drawing the sweetest moans from your lips. Your hands grip his hair and you grind against his face, his groans against your pussy making you shiver and squirm. The world melted around you, all you could focus on was the pleasure he was making you feel,

You feel the wave of pleasure building, and as you climax, you gasp his name, feeling your body quake beneath his touch.

Afterward, you’re both a tangle of limbs, breathless and glowing. Nicholas wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you catch your breath.

Once the haze of passion begins to settle, he looks deep into your eyes. “I want you to be my girlfriend,” he says, sincerity etched in his features. You smile, feeling a rush of happiness. “I’d love that.”

After a passionate night together with Nicholas eating you out, you both navigate your way through the press runs filled with playful touches and stolen kisses. Finally, the season premiere arrives, and excitement buzzes in the air.

As you both prepare for the red carpet, butterflies flutter in your stomach. You glance at Nicholas, who looks stunning in a tailored suit. He catches your gaze and smirks, making your heart race.

“Ready to blow everyone’s minds?” he asks, his confidence radiating. You roll your eyes playfully. “As if I’d let you steal the spotlight.”

The two of you step onto the red carpet, and a hush falls over the crowd as cameras flash. The buzz is palpable as reporters and fans whisper, remembering the long-standing rumors that you and Nicholas didn’t get along.

You strike a pose together, your bodies instinctively leaning into one another. “You both look amazing!” a reporter shouts. “Can you tell us about your chemistry?”

Nicholas glances at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s just as fiery off-screen as it is on-screen. Isn’t that right?” You nod, smirking. “Let’s just say it’s been a wild ride, but we make it work.”

As the cameras continue to flash, Nicholas takes your hand, pulling you closer. Suddenly, he leans in and kisses you, catching everyone off guard. Gasps and cheers erupt from the crowd, and the whispers of shock turn to delight.

“What’s this? Are you two an item now?” another reporter calls out, excitement in their voice.

You break the kiss, breathless but grinning, and glance at Nicholas.

“Guess we just made it official,” he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You both continue down the red carpet, posing and kissing, basking in the spotlight as the rumors of your on-set rivalry dissolve into cheers of support.

During interviews, the two of you take turns praising each other, the chemistry undeniable. “She’s incredibly talented,” Nicholas says, his voice full of admiration. “I’m lucky to have her as my co-star.”

You blush at his words, feeling warmth spread through you.

“Nicholas has this incredible drive. It’s inspiring to work alongside him,” you reply, your smile wide.

Then the moment of truth arrives during a live interview when a reporter asks Nicholas how he feels about this new development in your relationship.

“I feel... I feel amazing. She makes me happy,” he says, his expression earnest. Then, almost as if he’s caught up in the moment, he blurts out, “I love her.”

Silence falls for a split second before your eyes widen in surprise. He blinks, realizing what he just said. “Uh, yeah, I love you,” he repeats, a mix of disbelief and affection in his voice.

“You do?” you ask, your heart racing. He nods, sincerity flooding his gaze. “Yeah, I really do.”

You’re momentarily taken aback, but then a smile spreads across your face, and you lean in, capturing his lips in a kiss as the crowd coos and cheers.

“I love you too,” you whisper against his lips, and everyone around you erupts in “Awws!”

The premiere ends on a high note, filled with excitement and love. As you both head back to the hotel, the energy is electric.

Once inside your hotel room, the door closes behind you, and Nicholas pulls you in for a passionate kiss.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are tonight,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands caressing your waist.

You shiver at his touch, feeling desire surge through you. “And you’re absolutely irresistible.”

Nicholas grins, his eyes dark with hunger. “I want you, all of you.”

With urgency, you both shed your clothes, losing yourselves in the heat of the moment. As he pulls you onto the bed, he worships your body with soft kisses and sweet words.

His pumps his cock a few times before rubbing the glistening tip on your wet pussy before slowly pushing in.

“You feel so good,” he breathes, his lips trailing down your neck. “You’re everything I’ve wanted.”

You moan softly, feeling the heat rise between you.

“And you’re all mine,” you reply, looking into his eyes with fierce determination.

You gasp his name as he starts to rut into you softly, his forehead on yours and you stare into each other’s eyes. He was your entire world, everything faded away as you felt his cock brush you cervix and his fingers reached between your bodies, rubbing your clit slowly.

With a shared understanding, you both fall into a rhythm of passion, bodies moving in perfect harmony. His hands explore your curves as he whispers sweet nothings, making you feel cherished and desired.

“You’re so so beautiful baby, I love you, you’re everything to me.”

The words almost bring you to tears but the constant brushing of his cock against your g spot made you focus more on the pleasure you were feeling. “Fuck I’m gonna cum baby, I need you to cum with me, cum around my cock okay?” You nodded frantically feeling the overwhelming feeling of being near your release.

As you reach your climax, everything around you fades, and all you feel is him, his voice, and the intimacy of the moment.

Afterward, you lay entwined, breathless and content. Nicholas brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze softening.

“You’re incredible. I’m so lucky to have you,” he says, kissing your forehead.

You smile, feeling a deep sense of love and belonging. “And I’m lucky to have you.”

In that moment, you both realize that you’re not just co-stars anymore; you’re partners, and this is just the beginning of your journey together.

[sutorus]

✰ HC: BEING IN A SITUATIONSHIP WITH THE JJK F*CKBOYS

DESCRIPTION: my hcs on what it’d be like to be in a situationship/fwb situation with the jjk men hehe

FEATURED: gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. fem + afab reader, this is fully self indulgent i'm just taking my own shiddy experiences and coping via hot anime men, suggestive content/smut, pretty standard manwhore behavior, slightly toxic, not wholesome, kinda crack tbh, some mentions of degradation as a kink, objectifying women, just like the real thing lol!

A/N: LONG BUT READ! this will Not have an ending where you get together at least not rn these are just my hcs all in good fun ur just having fun ok ur not heartbroken everything is okay. they are not good boys here they are normal regular boys

GOJO SATORU

has way too many hoes. way too many

so much so that he gave up on remembering their names and just saves their numbers like “osaka w the hand kink”, “big tits shibari”, “slut from trig”, “hostess best bjs”

has someone’s boobs with his name written on them in sharpie as his wallpaper

says i love you when he cums inside and you never know if you should believe it

throws you off when he agrees to meet your friends only for him to flirt with them in front of you

takes you to the best clubs with bottle service, lets the girls sit on his lap and laughs when you get mad

pays for your ubers everywhere every time

into the weirdest shit like wearing your underwear laughing like a lunatic the whole time he’s fucking you then after he cums gets sulky and embarrassed

lays it on thick with the pet names, gives zero fucks if that confuses you even further

very public with you and it makes you wonder how many other girls put themselves through this humiliation just for the d

gets jealous about you being with other people and needs to prove himself by eating it from the back or something

fwb with gojo is just a huge mindfuck honestly he doesn’t take anything seriously and this is no different sorry! it’s fun tho!

GETO SUGURU

keeps it extremely platonic because he likes to tell himself he has a conscience

too busy for regular chit chat ignores your texts all day then hits you up when he wants to fuck

even more of a whore than gojo is which is why he makes sure not to lead anyone on he just does not need the trouble

answers all your personal questions about him with one word answers

he lets you choose the movie for netflix and chill at least! but will never remember it or the fact that it’s your favorite :(

cleans you up after sex and brings you water

has female hygiene products in his bathroom which is both a red and a green flag

lets you stay after sex and you just lay there on his bed watching him do stuff on his computer but he will not be talking to you

never calls you baby or anything when he’s fucking you just goes oh fuck yeah right there fuuuuck your pussy

genuinely respects you and has nice decent sex with you unless you tell him that you’re kinky

in which case he fucks you just how you want it and gets off on how turned on you are

not one of those guys who gets jealous of sex toys and holds the wand on your clit for you

likes to make you cum over and over and over again

fwb with geto makes your heart clench because he’s just such a gentleman but you got way too much competition to even think about it

NANAMI KENTO

a professional in every sense of the word

uses sex as stress relief

thinks he's too old for this shit but you make him feel alive so he fucks you like he can empty all of his frustrations into you

invites you to his apartment serves you expensive liquor and lets you initiate things most times unless he’s too pent up

can actually have very nice conversations with you

never has the “what are we talk” because he makes it clear he’s too busy for a relationship

lets you spend the night if it’s too late but solely for your safety/logistics

does your taxes for you but will not call you anything beyond an “acquaintance”

texts you happy holidays but does not know when your birthday is

gets tested consistently even though he’s not fucking anyone else and always uses a condom unless you beg him not to

eats you out because he thinks it’s relaxing and spends hours prepping you

the sexual tension is soooo thick when you two fuck all you can hear is grunts and growls and moans and wet slapping sounds and it’s so hot

has some random turn ons like gets bricked up when you’re wearing lipstick or stockings

fwb with nanami is very enjoyable and easy it’ll get complicated if you develop feelings because he does not want to date but who cares yolo am i right

FUSHIGURO TOJI

broke ass deadbeat dad why are you into him

absolutely nasty sex

you know if he had a girlfriend he’d respect her too much to do the things he does to you

dick game so bomb that you’re scared he’s gonna give you a child even when he’s wearing a condom

wants to fuck you every way he possibly can on every fuckable surface with zero regard for your physical integrity

eats his cum right out of you

ego is so big, grins so wide and fucks you so hard when you stroke his muscles

loves to eat pussy but only after he’s fucked you because he likes it tight and hot with minimal prep

doesn’t follow you on any social media but jerks off to your instagram pics

has like 3 different phone numbers and you don’t know why

has only let you come over once, didn’t let you shower after

no pet names but calls you a dirty whore and other degrading shit

loves it if you cry on his dick

doesn’t give a fuck about your safety sorry you’re on your own

has never told you his last name

one time you asked to see a picture of his son and he didn’t speak for 3 whole minutes

fwb with toji is the nastiest sex you’ve ever had truly it’s just sinful and everyone’s dark hidden fantasy half of it you couldn’t tell your closest friends because it’s just too much

a/n sorry

[lev1hei1chou]

7:36

"Hey, babe, you know what they say – love is like a cursed spirit. Unpredictable, sometimes dangerous, but always thrilling," Gojo grinned, his blindfold adding an extra layer of mystery.

You chuckled, not quite sure where he was going with this, but eagerly playing along.

"Now, imagine our love is like a special-grade cursed spirit – one that can only be defeated with the power of eternal commitment and---He drags out the last word while making drumming gestures with his hands ---a shiny engagement ring!" Gojo exclaimed, swiftly producing a small box from his pocket with a dramatic flourish.

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you couldn't help but laugh at his unique analogy.

"Of course, I've got a speech prepared. Brace yourself for the most heart-melting proposal speech ever," he winked, opening the box to reveal a dazzling ring.

"Dear Y/N, my love for you is like my limitless cursed energy – unstoppable and, honestly, sometimes a little overwhelming. I promise to be your unstoppable force, your protective domain expansion, and your one and only special grade sorcerer."

He paused, pretending to wipe away a fake tear dramatically.

"I vow to annoy you with dad jokes, steal your fries when you're not looking, and always be the one who insists on choosing the Netflix show. But most importantly, I promise to love you endlessly, like my collection of fancy sunglasses."

You couldn't help but burst into laughter. He was merging his charismatic, comedic nature with genuine emotion.

"Will you, Y/F/N, be the one to put up with my limitless antics for the rest of our lives? Will you make me the happiest, most powerful sorcerer in the world?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face.

With tears of laughter in your eyes, you nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, baby, I will!"

He slipped the ring onto your finger, his eyes gleaming with happiness.

"Perfect! Now, let's celebrate by grabbing some of those fancy desserts I heard about. Our love story deserves the sweetest interval, don't you think?" Gojo said, pulling you into a tight embrace.

Masterlist

[leeknowlover99]

Enhypen and their favorite place to f*ck

warnings: explicit content

masterlist

Heesung

Practice studio - it just drives him insane to have you in a place where he practices every days with this his team members. he loves when you visit him and you fuck like crazy late at night. it is actually a perfect place, there’s a coach, plenty of room, huge mirrors, great speakers to put on some sexy music. and the possibility of getting caught od course, but that makes it even more exciting for him.

Jay

Bathroom - it’s still private just how he likes it but a bit more interesting than bedroom. and it’s just convenient, both of you already being naked. he likes that there are different possibilities, slow and passionate sex in the bathtub, quickly in the shower, bending you over the counter and fucking like a whore? everything sounds great.

Jake

Honestly anywhere but mostly the living room - he loves to start things when you are chilling on the sofa and watching netflix. and he’s too eager to bother taking it to the bedroom so you usually fuck right there. he just loves how domestic it feels but also loves the thrill of getting caught (if you do it in the dorm).

Sunghoon

Bedroom - some might think it’s boring but nothing’s boring with this man. bedroom gives him the comfort and space to explore his darkest desires towards you, and boyyy he has many. it’s never boring with him. he always manages to surprise you with something, and what better place to explore your kinks than bed.

[alotofrandomfangirling]

Roronoa Zoro NSFW Alphabet (Netflix live action)

Warnings: smut 🫠 and cursing (18+ / minors dni)

A/n: i can't stop writing for this man please help okay so i had a bunch of smut headcanons for live action Zoro so i thought it would be better to fit them in a NSFW Alphabet ajdlajakaj it's the first time i write any kind of smut so please forgive me for any mistakes 😅 (i also didn't check the grammar because i was too embarassed to copy and paste it on google translate lmao sorry about that too ajskajskaj) female reader is adult and everything is consensual 🙏🏻 i hope you like it!!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Zoro is very gentle after sex, he likes to hold you close and kiss your forehead as you both fall asleep together.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He is a boob guy. He loves your boobs, staring at, squeezing and sucking on them. He also likes kissing the valley between them.

And for himself he likes his chest and arms. He is super proud of how much you love to roam your hands on his chest and arms to feel his strong muscles.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He licks every drop of your cum when he makes you climax with his tongue on your pussy (we know he has strong teeth, so i'm guessing his tongue works well too 👀). And it's freaking hot when he wipes his mouth after that and goes kiss you with the same hunger he showed before.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves when you nibble on his ear.

You've recently gotten obsessed with the three earrings on his left ear and you want to suck on them all the time. He acts annoyed when you do it, but deep down he loves it, it makes him feel all tingly inside.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Zoro wasn't very experienced when you met, but, after all this time together, you've done it so many times that now he already knows by heart the exact spots he has to hit to take you to complete bliss.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves when you're on top of him. Watching your beautiful face from below, your boobs moving up and down, grabbing your ass... it's like poetry for him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Well, Zoro doesn't smile much in his normal activities, so the same applies to while having sex ajskajakaj he's usually more serious cause he takes being with you and pleasing you very seriously.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well, he's nearly a pirate so don't expect much ajdkajskaj but if you ask him he'll take care of it, cause he will honestly do anything for you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It may be surprising, but he is so romantic. The thing is your relationship is very based on love and trust, so sex for you is really an intimate moment for you to share your deepest feelings with each other. He makes sure to show you how much he loves you by taking care of you and pleasing you the best way he can.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He jerks off thinking about fucking you from behind with you wearing a mini skirt Nami had lent you one day. Zoro was never the same after he saw you in that lmaooo the sight stuck to his mind so he often remembers it 👀

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Okay so hear me out: Zoro with a praise kink. Boy's had a rough past, so he appreciates every little act of kindness you do for him. He loves when you praise him and whisper sweet things in his ear, for how good he is or how nice he is doing. You can literally feel how much he enjoys that.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your shared room at the Going Merry. The rush of having to be silent so that the other straw hats won't hear you turns him on even more.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your voice. He loves listening to you moaning and telling him how good he makes you feel, it's like music to his ears.

(In fact, anytime you're feeling mischievous and want to mess with his mind, you just use that sweet voice that you know will drive him crazy)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Degradation. Or hurting. Not at all. You were the best thing that ever happened to Zoro and he made sure to let you know that, so he wasn't going to call you names or any of that. Sex was also a very intimate and special moment between you two so he enjoyed you both exchanging only nice stuff.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves a good blowjob. Hell, he loves how good your mouth feels on his dick.

You love to see how he melts under your touch while you're sucking him off. He looks so pleased and makes such pretty noises moaning your name you want to keep going just to keep listening to that.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends. Zoro usually takes his time in pleasing both of you. But when he's a bit frustrated or angry and wants to release himself, he gets a bit rough, but never hurting you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He prefers the real thing, but whenever one of you is feeling needy, sure, he'll do quickies.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Zoro is a simple man: he gets to fuck you, he is happy. So usually risking and trying new things only happens when the idea comes from you (and you sure have good ideas very often *wink wink*).

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Several rounds. Your man's stamina is on point ajdkajskaj

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Zoro doesn't really like toys. He says just the both of you are enough to "feel really good". i mean are there even sex toys in the op universe i'll be in debt in this one ajskajakja

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He likes to go straight to the point so he doesn't tease much, except when he wants you to beg for it so he can hear that sweet sex voice of yours that he loves so much.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's not very loud, but he grunts a lot (and it's delicious for you to hear). He also frequently lets slip curse words in your ear when he's fucking you because he can't take all the pleasure.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

That time you were at Kaya's and he showed up wearing that suit? You could barely concentrate on dinner for how aroused you were seeing him in those clothes. He looked so. freaking. hot.

The second dinner was over and everyone went to sleep you pushed him to your bedroom and had him take his pants off so you could ride him like there was no tomorrow (suit still on of course cause you liked it ajdkajskaj).

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Let's just say those jokes about his fourth sword are actually true.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Zoro is horny for you all the time lol of course he understands there's a right time for everything but whenever he has the chance he wants to be with you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It doesn't take much for him to fall asleep. He'll do the job, feel good and then fall asleep for how tired he feels (but not before kissing your forehead and praising you for all that you did together 😉).

Template

[formulawolff]

viii. shining bright in suzuka - t.w.

pairing: female driver! x toto wolff

word count: 3.0k

warnings: this chapter is a lot milder, so my apologies. cursing, banter, teasing, references to sex, toto being flustered as fuck, discussion of hickeys, references to oral (f! receiving), yadayadayada

prev. | next.

“jet lagged, are we?” 

an elbow nudges shoulder, prodding you awake, “wakey, wakeyyyyy.”

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peering from under your hood, you make out alex standing over you, a smirk painting his lips, “what time is it?”

“around 9 i think,” pulling his phone out of his pocket, he checks the time, “well, more like 9:30. what time did you fly in last night?”

“too late,” you grumble, rubbing your heavy lids, “way too late.”

“how long was your flight? because you look absolutely miserable,” although alex’s question is innocent, you hold your tongue. 

while you didn’t necessarily want to lie, you almost had to.

“about twenty hours.”

“yikes,” alex shakes his head, his focus directed on his phone, “sucks to suck.”

“where did you fly out from? monaco? did lily come with you?”

“maybeeee,” his voice crescendos, his smiling growing, “but yeah, she came with. she’s sleeping right now though. or getting ready. i’m not sure. but she’ll be here shortly.”

“yayyyy!” kicking your feet, you fish your phone out of your hoodie pocket, “she’s my favorite golfer, you know that?”

“she can’t be your favorite,” he shakes his head, thumbs fiddling with the screen, “she’s my favorite golfer so that means you have to pick someone else. i’m her number one fan, actually.” 

“okay fine,” you huff, “i’ll be her second number one fan.”

alex’s girlfriend, better known as muni “lily” he, was a professional golfer. she was undeniably gorgeous, with luscious, thick hair, a slim build, and beautiful, bright eyes. they reminded you of a sunlight shining through a forest, a rich,earthy hue. in addition to her stunning features, she was a kind, bubbly individual, quickly bonding with you over your shared status as professional athletes. she was hilarious as well, often getting you to crack a smile in the paddock after a rough lap or after being grilled in a press conference. 

her relationship with alex began after she watched a season of drive to survive on netflix. from there, the two connected over instagram, sharing conversations over their shared interests. that aspect always made you giggle, as she was the ultimate fangirl. her support for alex was adorable, and he was so in love with her. 

that was something you admired about alex. his fierce love for lily and his ability to be able to share it with the world, the two posting one another often across their social medias. 

if only you could tell the world about toto. 

fuck, if only you could tell your parents you had met someone. 

however, your relationship status with the team principal was complicated. 

extremely complicated. 

the time you spent with him in brackley was pure and utter bliss. since you had time to waste, you mostly spent it in his bed, cuddling one another, relishing one another’s presence. he was able to explain some more about his divorce with susie some, relieving your lingering anxiety over the matter.

when the two of you weren’t talking, cuddling, or sleeping, you found your bodies intertwined, his name flowing from your lips. notes of purple, blue, and pink painted your shoulders, breasts, collarbone, and thighs. fuck, there was probably even on one of your ass cheeks. you were so sore, your walls stretched, inner thighs aching. 

hopefully it wouldn’t affect your ability to race. 

you prayed to god it wouldn’t. 

there was one thing you couldn’t get over, even if it was a little ridiculous. 

how was he able to maintain that pace in bed? it was honestly impressive how high his libido was. and his stamina? oh fuck. you were the one who had to tap out nearly every time. yet, he was so gentle with you afterwards, placing soft kisses on every inch of your skin, assuring you that he would massage any sore muscles, offering to make you food if you were hungry.  

one night, he even sang you to sleep. it was a german tune, so you didn’t quite understand the words. but the gesture was enough to have you melting in his arms, falling asleep only minutes after he started. every morning, you’d wake up to his head between your thighs, toto utterly devouring you until he was satisfied. 

you couldn’t express how grateful you were to finally have some time alone with him, where you didn’t have to worry about missing flights or meetings. where you could kiss him as many times as you wanted. where you could just lay with him, your head on his chest as he replied to emails. he didn’t answer a single work-related call in that time, all of his attention focused on you.

as you sat with alex, you couldn’t help but wonder.

what was the label you could place on your relationship with the team principal?

meanwhile, toto wolff stood in the mercedes paddock, mingling with george and lewis. a team member approaches toto, tablet in hand. 

“mr. wolff, we’ve comprised a report of the necessary adjustments needed for this weekend’s race.”

“beautiful,” lewis hamilton finds himself arching a brow as he notices the grin plastered across his team principal’s face, “here, let’s go over here, and you can discuss it with me further. excuse me, you two. we’ll talk more later.”

as the team principal strolls away, lewis turns to his fellow driver. the other brit appears just as shocked, eyes wide, lips parted. 

“what the fuck happened over our break?”

“he’s been so smiley today,” lewis folds his arms across his chest, “do you think he got laid?”

“toto?” george tuts, “surely not. he doesn’t have the time to get laid. he’s always complaining about this meeting, some press conference, a mercedes showcasing. his schedule is packed so tightly, you have to make an appointment to speak with him for more than five minutes.”

“come on, mate,” lewis nods over the team principal, noticing the prominent mark on his neck, just barely peeking out over his collar, “george. he has a hickey. he has a fucking hickey.”

“surely no– oh my god,” george’s arms drop to his sides as he glances over, also taking note of the mark, “holy shit. he did get laid.”

“but who?” lewis presses, “who in their right mind would fuck that man? a recent divorcee? i pray for whoever the poor girl was.”

“the man’s a billionaire,” george waves a hand, “i’m sure there are models practically throwing themselves at him in monaco. perhaps he met a girl at a club or something. i wouldn’t think too much of it. although, it would probably be best if you mentioned the hickey. the press would be all over that.”

“what the fuck am i supposed to say?” lewis hisses, “should it be something like, ‘oh mate, i think you need to take a look at your neck. you have something there.’ or what?”

“wait,” george’s brows furrow, “he was in brackley. he responded to one of my texts saying he was working from the headquarters over break–”

“he fucked someone from mercedes?” lewis’ eyes widen, a hand flying to his mouth, “oh fuck. who could it possibly be?”

“well first things first,” george clears his throat, “you need to mention the hickey. then we need to focus on the practice laps. if we do well and he’s in a good mood, we’ll casually bring it up. we’ll say something like, ‘oh we’ve noticed you’ve been wearing that cheeky grin lately. is there something behind that? are you seeing someone, perhaps?’ we’ll be real smooth with it, so that he doesn’t suspect anything. if we perform poorly, i don’t think he would want to discuss it.”

“well no shit.”

“oh god,” george straightens his posture, “he’s coming back over here. you better say something!”

as the team principal grows near, the british drivers engage in conversation, discussing their performance from the last race. toto clears his throat, running a hand through his hair. 

“i hope i’m not interrupting anything between you two.”

“oh no,” lewis bears a quaint smile, “we were just talking about the fia’s decision regarding that williams driver.”

“the american girl?” toto inquires, maintaining his composure, “she really did a number on you, george.”

“just like someone did a number on your neck,” lewis chips in, teasing lightly, “what were you up to these past couple of days? up to no good?”

“what are you–” toto’s eyes narrow, yet the realization washes over him as he takes in the smug expressions across his drivers’ faces. 

the hickey was visible. the one on the left side of his neck.

“i-i don’t know what you’re rambling about.”

“mhmmm,” lewis puckers his lips, “tell me toto, did you get laid recently?”

inhaling a sharp breath, the team principal puts up his hands, in a vain attempt to cease their speculations. 

yet, he was well aware there was no stopping those two. 

the teasing was going to ensue the entire weekend. and they were going to be relentless, pressing each and every little button until he gave in. 

“what happens in my personal life is none of you–”

before he can finish, lewis puts up a hand, “toto we’ve gone on holiday with you. we’ve had weekends in monaco together. we spend nearly every waking minute together. whether it’s at brackley, in the paddock, or addressing the press, we’ve spent a lot of time together. now, we’re being merciful here. who is the lovely lady?”

“that is none of your–”

“fine,” george interjects, “we’ll drop it for now. but when this weekend is over, you better believe we’ll be on your ass about it. we’re going to find out who this woman is. one way or another.”

although, the british drivers did not have to look very far. 

you were simply a few paddocks down, filming a tik tok with lily. 

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“fuck yes!” 

“great job! great fucking job! we’ll see you in the paddock!”

adrenaline courses through your veins as you lay off the gas, practically gliding towards the paddock. stopping the car, you climb out, pumping your fists as the pit crew swarms forward, patting your back, cheers ringing all around.

amidst the crowd, james makes his way through, opening his arms for an embrace. 

you collapse into it, his hands rattling along your helmet, “way to redeem yourself, american girl!” 

“pole position for tomorrow isn’t too bad, huh?” 

“not at all!” james’ eyes are alight with joy, “that will shut everyone up, yeah?” 

“i think so,” the words are breathless, “fuck, that was intense.”

“you can sleep a little easier tonight,” james remarks, patting your helmet once more, “although, i would be on guard. those redbull boys are going to be on your ass.”

sliding your helmet off, your lungs take in the fresh air. your knees buckle momentarily, the limbs feeling a little like jell-o. graciously, you accept a water bottle from james, taking a swig. hairs cling to your forehead, the other ends sticking up in every direction. 

“fuck, i’m tired.”

“well, i don’t have anything for you,” james’ tone is laced with sympathy, “you’ve had a long few days. when you leave, just keep your head down, hood up. this is one of the only times i’ll let you avoid the press. if they antagonize you, just make some bullshit up. i can handle the rest.”

“are you sure you want me to do that? that may just create more headlines,” unzipping your suit halfway, you slip your arms out, grateful for the coolness of the spring suzuka climate. 

“i’m sure,” james rests a hand on your shoulder, “you deserve some rest. alex informed me you had a long flight. the jet lag can persist if you’re not used to it. you look exhausted.”

“i still haven’t adjusted to all of the traveling that comes with this sport,” you exhale, bringing your helmet under your arm, “thank you, james. you’re the best.”

“of course. it’s my job to be the best, you know,” he shoots you a wink, “now go! our little star needs her beauty rest!”

“little star. that’s a new one,” you roll your eyes playfully, “okay, okay. i’ll go.”

spinning on your heel, you turn to leave, strolling out of the paddock. making your way through the team headquarters, you wave to all of the members, grinning as they congratulate you, shouting a variety of inaudible or incoherent words of praise. within minutes, you’re able to locate your belongings, closing the door to the room. 

wincing, you tug the legs of the suit off. fuck, were more sore than usual. underneath the fabric, your muscles tingled, buzzing from the adrenaline. if you were hurting this bad now, god only knew how much more intense it was going to be in a few hours. 

slipping into a hoodie and some leggings, you pull the hood up, throwing your book bad on your shoulder. 

now, it would only be a short walk to your motorhome, where you could shower and sleep. 

thank fucking god. 

glancing at your phone, you briefly picked through your notifications. there was really nothing too serious. a few texts from your parents, congratulating you on the pole position. 

however, there was one message awaiting your response.

congratulations, my golden girl. can i swing by your place in a few? i just have to wrap up with my team and then i’ll be on my way. you should have time to shower, so do not rush. 

also, lewis and george will not stop pestering me about the hickey on my neck. they’ve been up my ass all fucking day. i’m only seconds away from reporting them to the fia and have them disqualified. LOL or however the fuck you say it. 

p.s. you’re going to get the biggest smooch. ever.

at his poor use of lol, you let out a laugh, your thumbs gliding across the screen, typing a response.

when you’re on your way, let me know so i can leave the door unlocked for you. maybe i can give you some concealer so you can cover it up tomorrow lmfaooo. my bad, my bad. see you soon, hottie. <3 

p.s. i can’t wait to get the biggest smooch ever. 

before you know it, you’re at the front door of your motorhome, sliding the key into the lock. turning it, you swing the door open, trudging inside. 

throwing your belongings on the counter, you groan as the pain seeps into every crevice of your body, desperate for some relief. hopefully a hot shower and toto’s hands would ease some of the ache. 

on the other side of the track, a team principal paces, oh so impatient. 

“are we all done here?”

“yes sir,” a team member responds coolly, “we’re finished.”

“okay good,” he nods. waving his hands, he dismisses his team and crew, “all right! see you all tomorrow. bright and early!”

as the members disperse, toto bites his lip, tapping his foot lightly against the carpet. 

why was everything taking so fucking long?

“why are you in such a rush?” lewis’ voice pulls him from his thoughts. thoughts about you, nonetheless, “have somewhere to be?”

“lewis,” toto’s voice is dangerously low, “quit it. stop that shit right now.”

“i’m just saying,” lewis shrugs, “it’s sort of odd you’re usually the last to leave, but now you’re chomping at the bit, ready to get out of here. is there someone waiting on you?”

actually, there was. 

the girl he was beginning to fall head over heels for was waiting for him. perched in her bed, more than likely. more than ready to be swathed in his loving arms. 

she had him wrapped around her little finger, there was no denying that.

especially when she had him pulling shit like this. 

peering around, the team principal ensures that there were no cameras or mics lingering about. netflix was in their early stages of shooting the 2024 season of drive to survive, so there were cameramen and production crew milling about the paddocks throughout the day.

thank god they didn’t catch the entire hickey debacle on camera.

that alone would have ended his career.

“perhaps i am seeing someone,” toto hisses pointing a finger at the british driver, “but that is none of your concern. i will see you tomorrow, lewis.”

“can you at least tell me who she is?” his bottom lip juts out, forming a pout, “come on, toto. you’ve been so open with me all of these years and this is where you draw the line?” 

“all you need to know is that she’s a professional athlete,” that was half the truth, at least. hopefully enough to keep lewis at bay for the time being. 

“an athlete?” lewis’ brows raise, “what sport?

“horseback riding.”

close enough. 

“hmmph,” lewis purses his lips, “well, if you want to tell me more, i’ll be all ears. i’ll see you tomorrow, toto. hopefully we have a hell of a race.”

“hopefully,” the only thing on toto’s mind was getting to you, before the cleanup crew started their rounds, “i will see you in the morning, lewis.”

the driver bids another farewell before catching up with george, exiting the paddock. however, he glances over his shoulder one more time, mouthing something to george before the two continue, disappearing from his line of sight.

fuck, that was unbearable. 

borderline miserable.

lights glitter all around as the team principal makes his way to your motorhome, concealed by the hood of his jacket, thankful for the brisk evening air. if he didn’t have a jacket, he would have been fucked. 

however, it was sort of difficult for the team principal to blend in. especially with his stature and size. 

as he strolls up to the door of your motorhome, he takes once last cautious look, ensuring that there was no one watching. 

yet, what the team principal forgot to account for was the production crew of drive to survive. 

and they managed to record the entire encounter as you opened the door, greeting the team principal with open arms. 

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taglist: @toldyouitwasamelodrama @kravitzwhore @persona1lies @pucksandpower @k3ira13 @prettiest-at-the-party @martwll @annewithaneofthegreengable @zoeyjadetice2010 @sinners-98-world @danielricciardotr @laura-naruto-fan1998 @whoisss @nebarious @joalslibrary

if you would like to be added to my taglist, please let me know! thank you for all of the support thus far! <3

[swearyshera]

In case you've been wondering what I've been up to, here's a little bit of exciting news...

Netflix Announces Live Action Sweary Sweary She-Ra

Entertainment - Embargoed until 1st April

Netflix has announced a live action series based on mildly popular webcomic Sweary She-Ra. The new series, Sweary Sweary She-Ra, will be a more foul-mouthed take on the original.

Commissioning editor for Netflix UK & Ireland, Fiona-Orla O'Leary, said "We really enjoyed reading Sweary She-Ra, but felt that they didn't say the f-word anywhere near enough. Honestly, it really ruined the atmosphere for me, and we're going to put that right, one fuck at a time."

Although a full cast and crew has not been announced at this time, the webcomic's writer, Alice Hancock, will serve as head writer for the project. Co-writer Entrapta will star as an actress who plays Entrapta.

Netflix CEO, Ted Sarandos, told of his enthusiasm for the new series: "At Netflix, we have a long and proud history of championing writers and new programming. Sweary Sweary She-Ra will bring a popular series onto our screens at last, and we look forward to not promoting the show and cancelling it before the first episode has been broadcast."

[margotw10bis]

Pretty Baby.KNJ [m]

sugardaddy!namjoon x sugarbaby!reader

Genre: smut; short-story

Words: 4.9k

Synopsis: Namjoon is your sugar daddy. However, you can't deny how your heart is jumping in your chest when he calls you his "pretty baby"…

Warnings: rough sex; unprotected sex; anal sex; first anal; oral sex (f. receiving); Namjoon is huge 😳; he loves ass; use of "daddy"

1 → 2 → 3 (Bonus : Memories ; Doubts & Possibilities)

What just happened? Namjoon is so shocked about your demand that he just stays still for several minutes. He has never imagined, in a thousand years, that you, his pretty baby, would put an end at your relationship like that. Were there signs he didn't see? Were you unhappy? He genuinely thought that you liked spending time with him, especially since he started to make efforts to know you better. He even thought that you liked him. But you obviously don't.

He wanted to tell you to change your mind, to think about it, that he could change if you wanted him to, but it would have been selfish. It was already too damn selfish willing to keep you for himself when he was fucking other girls — even if he doesn't anymore.

He thought that something changed the last time you two had sex. It was different, more real. Did he imagine everything? It looks like it since you just stepped out of his office after throwing a bomb at him. Fuck. But then, why would you look so sad? Everything is messed up in his head, he can't think straight.

More than the surprise caused by your announcement, Namjoon feels something truly unpleasant in his chest and he wishes it was just his ego. But it's not. He knows damn well it's his heart. Once again: fuck.

————

"I don't understand you, honestly" Jimin sighs

Yeah, you neither. You regret so, so much what you did yesterday. You clearly let Lisa messing up with your brain. You should have trusted Namjoon rather than her. You were so afraid of being hurt that you pushed him away and you hurt yourself instead. That's fucking stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

"I don't need you to tell me I've fucked up, Jimin. I need you as my best friend to support me and tell me everything is going to be fine" You say with a shaky voice, ready to start crying, again

"Come here" He whispers to hug you and rub your back

"Can I stay here tonight?"

"Of course you can. We are going to watch your favorite show on Netflix and eat some pizzas. How does it sound?"

You look at your best friend and feel so damn lucky to have him. You rub your eyes to get rid off the last tears and get the TV remote.

In another part of the town, Namjoon opens the door of the apartment. Your apartment. He can't just give up like that, without even fighting. But the place is desperately empty. No lights on, no noise. You are simply not here. He still has a ridiculous slight hope when he opens the door of your bedroom. Yet, your face is no where to be seen. Namjoon's heart squeezes. Where the fuck are you?

He is not sure you will show up tonight so he decides to leave and go meet his parents. Maybe he could use some advices from a 40-year married couple.

Namjoon's mom is super excited to see her busy son. It's pretty rare he comes eat with them. But her smiles fades when she notices the look on his face. He looks tired and sad. Defeated. It breaks her heart to see him like this.

They sit in the comfortable and huge sofas of the living room. Every single furniture of their mammoth house is expensive. Namjoon's parents love buying costly things but also giving their money to people who need it. Maybe that's why Namjoon doesn't have any problem with spoiling his sugar babies.

"Can I ask you guys something?" He asks, unsure

"Of course, honey" His mom says

"How did you become a couple? Was it easy?"

His parents share a glance, half surprised half amused. Namjoon has never wanted to hear about love before.

"It was certainly not easy" His dad starts "Your mom is pretty stubborn. I gave her many presents, expensive jewelries and so on. But she didn't care at all. I honestly thought she wasn't interested"

"I didn't care about the money. I cared about him and his feelings. You know, love is not just words but acts too. However, the acts don't have to take the material form of gifts" The woman continues

"So how?" Namjoon asks

"Spending time with each other. Small acts of consideration. Actually, the best acts of love are the simplest ones because they show how sincere you are and that you care about the small details" Her mom answers

Namjoon takes a few moments to think about it. He has shown his affection with presents. Expensive ones, even. But you, you are full of those simple acts of consideration his mom is describing. You made sure he wasn't tired or that he ate well. You changed your shampoo when you noticed Namjoon's scrunched nose at the smell of it even if he didn't say anything about not liking it. You distracted him with a mind-blowing blowjob on the day he lost a huge contract. Fuck, everything you have done the past few months was little acts that made him slowly fall in love with you. But maybe you didn't think Namjoon cared about you too.

"Is this about the girl from the mall?" Namjoon's mom asks carefully

"Yeah, but I'm not sure she really wants to be with me" He replies honestly

"I think she does. The look she was giving you, it doesn't lie, honey"

Those words are what Namjoon needed. Now, he has to find a way to see you again.

————

You have thought about it all day. Should you? It's Namjoon's birthday and you were invited by his mom. But it's also true that you told him you wanted to end things... However, you miss him so bad and it has only been five days.

You check yourself in the mirror. Yes, you have thought about not going but you have still gotten ready. Your heart beats so loud that you wonder how it is not showing through the soft material of your white silk dress — great metaphor of your willing to go back from the start and start on a new page.

It's Namjoon's birthday. And you miss him. And you love him. The only thing holding you back is you and your fear of being hurt. Are going to stay alone your entire life because of that? That would be so pathetic. Fuck, Namjoon gave you so much confidence, where did it go? You would be so disappointed in yourself if you don't at least try. So you fix your mascara for the last time and head to Namjoon's party.

The house is way bigger than you thought, especially because it's in Seoul center. You can't imagine the price of it. You knock on the front door and a fucking butler invites you inside. You are stressed, you can feel your hands shaking. Thankfully, there are no too many people — you guess just family and close friends. That makes you wonder what you are doing here. Everyone is so elegant and, even if you have put on one of your most beautiful dresses, you don't seem to belong here.

"Boring party, isn't it?"

You jolt as a male voice whispers in your ear. You turn your head and meet some very handsome man. He could easy be elected World Wide Handsome. His brown hair looks smooth and his eyes are sparkling with playfulness. Let's not talk about his juicy and plump lips. Fuck, every women must be jealous of it.

On the other side, the stranger is quite amused by your shyness. He also wonders what such a pretty girl is doing it. If his friend Namjoon has you as a friend, Seokjin would be upset and disappointed that he didn't introduce you to him before. Yes, the man is a womanizer but a very picky one: he seems to date only the most beautiful women.

"I'm Seokjin by the way"

"Y/N" You reply, shyly

Seokjin's eyes widen. Are you Y/N? Like the woman his friend can't shut up about lately? Oh, things are about to get interesting... Now he understands Namjoon. You look very pretty in that dress, almost a sexy version of a cute bride. Yep, Namjoon will go crazy when he sees you and the slight shadow of your nipples through the thin and smooth fabric. But for now, he is not here and Seokjin is a flirt.

"I'm honored to meet the most beautiful woman of the night" He says with a seductive tone

You don't really know what to say so you just thank him. Is he flirting? Oh my god, how are you going to escape him?

"It's the glass I wanted to bring to my friend but I rather offer it to a pretty girl" He continues, handing you a glass of champagne

You take it. You need alcohol to gather your courage, especially if Namjoon tells you to go fuck yourself after what happened in his office. You drink the glass one shot.

"Well! You go faster than Dom Toretto!" Seokjin jokes, laughing so loud than a few people turn toward you

His laugh also attracts Namjoon's eye. However, he doesn't see his friend. The only thing that seems to be visible to him is you. You came. And you look so fucking gorgeous. Namjoon recognizes the silk dress, it was his birthday gift for you. It looks so good on you that Namjoon's brain starts picturing you in all kinds of situations — both with and without the dress on. He wonders if it's the kind of dress you would wear for your wedding day. And after your marriage, what you would look like with a baby in your belly, his baby. How proud he would be to have you by his side and how everyone could see you belong to him.

Okay, his brain is definitely sick because those are ridiculous thoughts. You said you didn't want this relationship with him. But, what are you doing here?

Namjoon walks toward you and your heart stops when you see him. He is the definition of handsomeness. And he is wearing a fucking black — Prada it seems — suit with a white shirt. It's the look you prefer on him. This is torture for you, especially if it's the last time you see him.

"Hi" You almost whisper

"Hi" His voice is neutral and you don't know if it's a good thing "Can I talk to you, in private?"

You gulp and nod. Fuck, you are stressing so much. He invites you to follow him and he leads you to his bedroom. A huge place actually with not only a king size bed but also a sofa and a large bookshelf. All the furnitures are matching, even the pattern of the fabric. The color scheme, warm beige with hints of green here and there, is soothing — something you really appreciate right now.

There are so many things you want to say but nothing seems to form on your tongue. You can't look at him. You are so overwhelmed by your feelings that you could cry.

"I'm surprised you're here" Namjoon says

There is no reproach in his voice, he is just sincerely surprised. You can understand. But is it a good or a bad thing?

"I can leave if you want"

'But please don't say you want me to leave' You pray internally

"No, I'm actually glad you're here"

Your heart does a backflip in your chest and you look at him with hope.

"I'm so sorry for what I've said" You say as you are gathering all your courage "I don't want to end the contract"

"But I do"

Your whole body freezes. Your heart stops too, in a painful way. It hurts so bad, like your soul is torn apart. So that's it. It's the end for Namjoon and you. Fuck, you wish you could go back and never went to his office. You would do anything to go back in time.

A breathless 'Oh' leaves your lips, like you have received an uppercut in the stomach — well, it's pretty much what you feel.

Namjoon gets closer and notices your eyes watering. Words are not enough to express what he is feeling so he does what he does best. He captures your lips and kisses you deeply. You moan both in surprise and pleasure. You don't know what the kiss means but you are ready to take whatever he is giving to you if it's the last time you see him.

Namjoon wraps his arms around your small frame. The silk of the dress is so smooth under the tip of his fingers, but not as smooth as your skin. His hands go down and find your ass. He makes sure to lift the fabric and digs his palms into the flesh of your asscheeks. The cold air on your hot skin makes you gasp in pleasure. He growls as he missed it so much.

You pull him closer by grabbing the back of his neck. His lips travel down your jaw and then to the thin skin of your throat. His wet kisses make you shiver and create a pool of arousal between your legs, especially when Namjoon sucks on your skin. A reddish mark adores your neck. Namjoon smiles at it. You are so beautiful, you can't go out without a stamp of him.

Namjoon doesn't stop. He firmly grabs your ass and lifts you up. You wrap your legs around his torso and secure your arms around his large shoulders. You are now higher than him and it gives him the opportunity to dig his face into your breasts. He messily kisses your boobs and captures your harden nipples with his teeth through the fabric of the dress. Namjoon smirks when he notices you don't wear a bra and bites your nipple a little harder, making you whimper. Your head rolls back and you arch your back to give him a better access.

Your soaked pussy also needs friction so you start grinding on his abs. You need him so bad. You are stressed and horny when you think about what you are going to do.

Namjoon walks to his bed and sits on it, you still inside his arms. The new position makes it easier for you to grind on his lap. You can clearly feel his hard-on against your clothed cunt. You tug on his hair to access his lips and you kiss him like there is no tomorrow.

"Damn, baby, you're on fire" He jokes against your lips

"I want you" You moan, there is no better way to say the truth

You pull off and stand up between his muscled legs. You can see lust in Namjoon's brown eyes but also some affection in them. It gives you confidence to carry on. You take off your dress and the sight of your body almost completely bare makes Namjoon's cock twitch in his pants. He can't help but caress himself through the fabric, and his dick gets even harder. You slid down your ridiculously small and wet panties to stand entirely exposed in front of him. You finally take off your heels, your feet thanking you for that. You feel fragile but also proud to have the courage to completely give yourself to the man you love. You will have nothing to regret, even if tonight is the last night you'll ever spend together.

Your breathe is shaky and your hands are sweaty. Fuck, stress makes your legs weak but you have made up your mind way before entering Namjoon's parents' house. You are prepared, both mentally and physically for what is coming. You now have to trust yourself and Namjoon. You turn around and give Namjoon a perfect view of your ass he loves so much. You slightly bend over so he can see both your holes. Your pussy is so wet that Namjoon's breathe on it makes you clench.

"Fuck, baby" Namjoon whispers as it was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen

"It's your birthday present" You say shyly

Namjoon is taken aback. Is it what he is thinking about?

"What do you mean?" He asks, clearing his throat — he wants to be sure he is not over-interpreting

You take a deep breathe and reply.

"You can have my ass tonight"

It's like a dream came true for Namjoon. He has been dreaming about it for months. Your perfect ass. He wanted to stretch it every time he squeezed your cheeks. It must be so fucking tight. Just thinking he will finally be able to dive in it could be enough to make him cum in his pants.

He doesn't waste any time and starts licking your glistening pussy. You moan about how starved he looks. He is literally making out with your pussy and it's so fucking hot. His tongue rolls on your clit, then digs in your entrance to go back to your clit again. It's so good that your legs quiver. At some point, Namjoon takes a fat licking from your sensitive bud to your pussy entrance but continues higher to your other hole.

You whimper as Namjoon takes big laps of it. The new sensation is beyond words. You feel way more sensitive. You have to grab his hair behind you when he enters your pussy with two fingers, still wetting your puckered hole. Namjoon's face is so deep between your asscheeks that it's scandalous but fuck it feels good.

He leaves your hole one second to bite on the flesh of your perfect ass. His fingers pumping into your dripping cunt are delightful, especially when he goes deep and fast, making your legs weak. You can feel some arousal going down your inner thighs.

"Keep going, I'm gonna cum" You moan

Seeing you liking it makes Namjoon so fucking happy. He could eat your ass all day. Your hole is damn soaked right now and Namjoon starts entering it with his tongue. You're so sensitive, you're not sure to can handle it. Namjoon speeds it pace in your pussy and you almost scream. You tighten your fingers in his hair, bringing him deeper against your ass and he growls. Your pussy clenches and Namjoon digs his tongue further in your hole, almost not able to breathe. You know how sinful you look but fuck, Namjoon is tonguing your ass. The wave of bliss you know well in growing inside you but there is something different, something that makes it more powerful and your teased area is more sensitive. You can't hold any longer and you cum on his face and fingers. Choked screams of his name escape from your lips. Namjoon grabs you in his arms to prevent you from falling.

He puts you on his bed delicately as you're coming back down to Earth. He lets you rest a little and take off his clothes.

"Are you sure you want this?" He asks you, kissing your lips tenderly

"Yes, just be gentle" You say

You are crushing everything in him right now. The trust you put in him doesn't only fill his pride but also his heart. He promises: he is going to fuck your ass so good that you won't ever want him to stop.

"Tell me if you want to stop, okay baby?"

He kisses your forehead and spoons you. You feel his large and buff chest against your back but the way he holds you is so sweet that you push your ass closer to his cock with an urged need of feeling him. He places your upper leg a little forward to have a better access to your ass. He also makes sure to bring a good amount of your juices to your hole and to his large cock to lube them.

"I'm going to stretch you a little, I don't want to break you" He whispers in your ears "Yet" He adds playfully to make you laugh

Namjoon slowly pushes one finger in your so tight hole and you gasp. You hold on his other arm wrapped around your waist. He softly starts back and forth moves. It hurts a little but it's also so fucking good.

"Try to relax, it will hurt less" Namjoon says as he pecks your shoulder

You do as he says and you notice how easier it makes for him to finger you. He adds other finger and you almost cum instantly. Fuck, it's so good. You can't even describe how it feels. It's like you can feel him better, deeper. All the sensations are increased.

Namjoon enhances his pace when he sees you feeling more pleasure. He can't wait to put his dick in and to make you cum all over it. Your tight hole is going to feel so good around his length.

"Fuck, I need your cock"

Namjoon is beyond happy to fulfill your wish. He pulls off his fingers and grabs his cock. You feel his tip slightly entering your pussy to gather some of your arousal and then going up to your ass. He pushes to enter you but he is so fucking big.

"Come on, baby, I know you can take it" Namjoon encourages you

You gasp as his tip is inside you. You feel so fucking stretched. Pleasure and pain have never been this connected. You dig your nails deep inside his forearm but he doesn't care: you are fucking taking his cock in your fucking ass. Namjoon caresses your stomach to soothe the pain and keeps kissing your shoulder. He is so gentle you could die.

"Are you okay?"

You nod and Namjoon pushes deeper. You feel every single inch entering you and stretching you. You know he is not entirely in you but you're not sure to take more of him. Namjoon seems to feel it and he slowly pulls over, not completely, to push inside again. You start moaning, louder and louder as Namjoon pounds faster. The pain is still here but the pleasure... Oh god, it's beyond words.

"Fuck, Joonie" You moan as he enters your hole deeper

"You're doing great, baby. It's the best birthday present ever"

He grabs your asscheek and squeezes it hard. He spreads it to look at his dick fucking your ass. Feeling your very tight hole stretched by his huge cock is delightful. Especially when he is the first one. The thought makes his dick twitch inside your ass. He enhances the pace a little when he sees you relaxing and having pleasure. He feels so proud of it, that his cock provides you pleasure. That his cock is fucking your ass. He growls when he realizes it.

"You're so fucking perfect. Your ass feels so good"

The bliss is driving him crazy. He could fuck you so rough that you wouldn't be able to walk for days. But it's your first anal, he can't just destroy you. He grabs your chin to kiss you. Your hand reaches the back of his head. He gives you one hard dick stroke, making you scream his name. You don't even care that other people in the house hear you.

"That's it, scream my name, baby. Tell everyone who fucks you good"

"It's you, Namjoon" You moan loudly

He starts pounding pretty hard and fast in your ass and you're on the edge. Namjoon captures your throat with his large palm. He is almost entirely inside your ass and you feel him so deep. You have never felt so full. You start feeling a huge orgasm building inside you, despite your empty and clenching pussy.

"My pretty baby" He moans when sounds of skins clapping starts filling the room

You're so close to cum. Namjoon looks at your perfect ass taking his cock. Your cheeks get spanked by his thighs and abs every single time. He is not as gentle as at the beginning but he can't hold himself, especially when he notices how fucked up you look. You love his dick in your ass, he can feel it. He swears, he is going to fuck your perfect little ass harder the next time and you will beg for more. The show is so sinful that it spurs Namjoon to push deeper inside your ass, now entirely. He doesn't even know how you manage to take his dick in your tight hole but one thing is sure: you do and you do it fucking well.

"Oh, fuck!" You hiss "I gonna cum"

Namjoon smirks and slaps the side of your ass. You feel your empty pussy clenching. He seems to hear your silent prayers and the hand around your waist goes South to slide two fingers into your cunt, making you groan loudly. You feel so full of him that you can't help tightening your holes. Namjoon is fucking your ass so good. He hides his face in the crook of your neck and hugs you tighter in his arms as he pounds you deeper.

"Cum for me, baby" He whispers, almost begging you as he feels he won't last long

Your hole is too tight and it feels too good to have you in his arms. It feels so good to see how much you trust him — you let him fuck your ass for god's sake!

"Yes, yes!" You scream, loosing your mind over the pleasure

"Fuck, I love your ass" He growls, the vibration echoing into your core

You can't hold on any longer and you cum hard on his cock and his fingers buried deep in your pussy, almost crying of how huge is the wave of pleasure washing over you. You mumble some words you don't even know as you are high. So high, way beyond clouds.

Namjoon pounds a few more times into your tight ass and releases his cum inside. He hugs you so tight, leaving your pussy empty again but still inside your ass, like he is afraid you vanish.

You two stay like that a moment. You can't believe Namjoon just fucked you ass. You also can't believe how much you liked it. You almost fall asleep, you don't want to leave his embrace. You feel good, peaceful. You hum in content and scoot closer into his chest.

"Did you mean it?" He asks suddenly

"What?"

"That you love me"

Your body tenses and your eyes open wide. What? How does he know? You pull over, running at the opposite side of the huge bed. You try to cover your naked body with your hands. You look so panicked, almost terrified.

"It's okay if you didn't mean it" Namjoon reassures you, even though it breaks his heart to see how you are reacting right now

Did you just confessed your love while you were having an orgasm? Well, the best orgasm ever, but still. You're so ashamed. You didn't want to tell him like that. Fuck, when you tell Jimin you said 'I love you' to Namjoon while his dick was in your ass, he is going to laugh so loud...

You are ready to deny it but when you see Namjoon's face, you can't lie. You do love him. You can't keep being a coward and lying to Namjoon and to yourself.

"I meant it. I love you, Namjoon" You confess in a whisper

The silence is killing you. Especially when it's the exact moment you brain chooses to remind you that Namjoon said he wanted to end the contract too.

"That's a good thing" He says, surprising you "Because I love you too"

He gets closer to you and caresses your cheeks. Okay, you have always loved how kind he was after sex but the way he is looking at you right now, it make your heart melt so much it hurts. You can't help kissing him. Namjoon chuckles against your mouth and hugs you tighter. Honestly, he could fuck you again. No, he could make love to you.

"Say it again" You ask

"I love you"

His bright smile with his dimples brings so much happiness to you. Is it possible to die over joy? Because you could right now.

"Okay, there is no contract anymore but I'm not gonna lie, you're still my pretty baby"

You giggle.

"I have to tell you something" You say, pricking his curiosity "I'm jealous so don't you dare having another baby"

"I'm all yours" He reassures you

Like you said, Namjoon has always been honest with you. So you believe him when he says there is nobody else.

"I think we should go back to the party. I can't not showing at my own birthday"

You nod but wince when you sit.

"Are you okay?" Namjoon asks, worried

"Yes, it just hurts a little" You confess, cheeks reddening

Is it bad that he feels proud of it? He wasn't exactly soft but he definitely can get rougher and honestly, he can't wait to pound into your ass again. Or your pussy. He doesn't care as long as he can give you pleasure.

Namjoon helps you standing up and getting dressed. Your beautiful silk dress is now completely crumpled. You pout at it and Namjoon finds you so pretty. Now that he knows you love him, his brain is even crazier than before: images of you in a white dress walking down the wedding hall or of you with a round belly are stuck in his head. But he definitely can't go as fast, he will scare you.

Does that mean that he will wait for years? Absolutely not. His pretty baby better be prepared for her Christmas present. Especially after the best birthday present he has ever had: you saying that you loved him too. 

3 → Next

Taglist @gimeow @whoreseok723 @wecanpretendit @missbangtangirl @dprmoon @baechugff @parkinglot-nights

[trojani]

[outofconcheol]

Exit West (LMH x F!Reader)

pairing: Minho x f!reader (afab)

genres/au/rating: angst, smut, some fluff, post-apocalyptic au (based on the Netflix series Sweet Home), 18+

summary: Even when the world is plunged into its darkest hour, you find the faintest light in Minho.

warnings: heavy angst, lots of mentions of blood and injuries (i tried to make it as non-graphic as possible), minor character deaths, weapons, panic attack (again not graphic), it's heavily implied OC struggles with agoraphobia and PTSD, brief infidelity, Minho and reader do get into verbal arguments (they're a little toxic lol), Minho is a true loverboy, ambiguous but hopeful ending, smut warnings: kissing, fingering (f rec), unprotected sex, brief nipple play

word count: 6.3k

a/n: i'm so sorry that this took so long, google docs decided to be a jerk and delete a huge chunk of this while i was working on it (I apologize in advance for the poorly written angst)! It is based on the world of Sweet Home but honestly you don't need to have watched the show or read the webtoon to follow along. the title is from the book by Mohsin Hamid. I hope you enjoy! &lt;;3

The sharp wire of the metal fence cuts into Minho’s palms, digging into his mottled skin, and he braces himself for the jump. Leaping over, Minho lands silently on his feet, skills honed from many years of observing his cats take the same leap from couches or counters. But none of that existed anymore.

His eyes remain sharp, taking in the cover of woods around him, and he remembers that while the trees helped him stay hidden, they hid the monsters from his sight as well. No sooner than he’s managed to calm down the ever-present racing of his heart, he’s swinging the door to the bunker open, closing it quietly behind him.

Wincing, he examines the cuts on his palms, tinged with dirty specks of rust. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep doing this, knowing the small supply of rubbing alcohol he’d managed to collect over the past few months was now down to the last bottle. And there was no more to be found.

The small bit of sunlight that streams in through the barely-qualifying window illuminates your sleeping figure nestled amongst a pile of dirty blankets, and Minho almost hesitates to disturb you like this. You look so peaceful like this, a stark contrast to the emptiness that fills your eyes when you wake, the pain of living through two starkly different lifetimes contained in their depths. He knows his eyes hold the same.

“___,” he shakes you awake gently, watching you stir. The gashes that mar your face have begun to scab over, leaving ugly scars in their wake.

“I brought dinner.”

That gets you to jolt up, rubbing sleepily at your eyes. 

“Are you okay? Anything hurt?” You shake your head, a small frown on your face when you see the fresh red marks that litter his palms. He has the feeling you’re lying to him again, but he doesn’t push it. A lot went unspoken between you two.

Minho wordlessly hands you over a full sleeve of crackers, your eyes lighting up. You chomp down eagerly on one, before pausing, holding it out to him.

“I already ate,” he lies, knowing he didn’t want you to sacrifice any kind of meal for his sake. He’d eat the less full sleeve when you fell back asleep.

Moments of silence pass between you, the soft sounds of your eating lulling Minho’s tired eyes to fall, becoming heavy with sleep. He rests his head on his knees, fighting back the shiver that night brought with it. 

A deafening roar breaks through the stillness, and you freeze, dropping the crackers to the ground. Minho is by your side in an instant, hand tentatively reaching out towards your shoulder. But he never closes the gap.

“Ten seconds,” you croak out, so softly that Minho thinks he might not have heard you. “If the distance that sounds travel is 343 metres per second, then ten seconds means it’s far enough away from us.”

The ghost of a smile twitches at Minho’s lips, and he wants to praise your sharp skills, considering he’d only ever been a pabo, but you’ve turned around and fallen asleep again, your back to him. 

Minho settles into the blankets across from you, watching you for a few minutes before his body is weighed down by the exhaustion of the day, knowing the exact same thing waited tomorrow. The end of the world was more boring than he’d expected it to be.

It hadn’t always been this way. The chaos had naturally broken through the quiet, starting one night when a fire broke out in his apartment complex. Amidst the screams and sounds of windows shattering, Minho’s only concern had been the cats, scooping them up, taking special care to cover their ears from the blaring alarms. But all of it hadn’t made a difference anyway.

He thought it was his neighbour at the end of the hallway. Or at least, it looked like him. He’d always had some sort of disdain for the man - in Minho’s eyes he talked too much. Always interrupting him during his morning mail runs to brag about his latest conquests when it came to dating. It was a sore spot for Minho, especially considering his own romantic interests were so singular, something he didn’t want to get into whenever his neighbor cornered him.

But the vain man who talked Minho’s ear off about sleeping with as many women as possible was nowhere to be found, lithe limbs transforming into ropes that broke through the ceiling. Heading straight for Minho.

Somewhere in the chaos, Minho briefly had time to register that whatever was in front of him was no longer human. And so, he did the only thing he could do. Run.

The floor slipped underneath him, hurtling Minho to the ground, the cat carrier thrown open next to him. Soonie, Doongi, and Dori are nowhere to be found. His palms claw against the tile, trying and failing to lift himself up, eyes widening when he sees the red that coats his palms.

“Please,” Minho croaks, attempting to break through to the human underneath the monster. “Don’t do this.”

There’s a brief flash, a spindly arm reaching out for Minho’s face, and he ducks. The sound of shattering glass follows, the grotesque body flinging itself out the window. Minho heaves, hot tears leaking from his face as he remains curled in the fetal position, arms braced over his head. When his breath returns to him, he looks over at the empty carrier and lets out a sob. Slowly, his eyes turn to the shattered window. 

Blood lines its jagged edges, dripping to join the mess on the floor. Peering downwards, Minho sees the mangled body of the thing (he refused to acknowledge it had been his neighbor) that had attacked him, unmoving. 

He had to get out of there.

…

The knock at the door startles you. It’d been days since you’d locked yourself away from the chaos, days since you’d heard a sound. But the screams would never leave your head. 

You’ve been huddled up in the same corner since it all started, exactly ten feet away from the door. Close enough to act quickly in case someone (or something) came knocking, but far enough away to duck into one of the rooms of your apartment for safety. 

However, the splitting pain in your ankle prevents you from doing either. The bruises are turning a nasty shade of yellow, mixing with the unsightly violet from before. You’re pretty sure it’s broken, your bookcase toppling over onto it the day this had all started.

The knock startles you again. It’s soft, gentler than the ramming you’d expected if a monster were to come knocking. But still, you could never be too safe. 

“Churu,” a soft voice whispers through the darkness, and you freeze. There was only one person in the world who’d know that word, and come knocking at your door.

Your palms burn as you drag yourself against the floor, taking extra care to make as little sound as possible. Fighting the urge to curse when the door creaks, you brace yourself against it, peering through the peephole. 

The banged-up face of Lee Minho greets you on the other end, and you nearly sob with relief. Swinging the door open, you take him in at the threshold, peering at you with a strange gaze. You’d often joked to Minho that his eyes resembled his cats’, curiosity mixed with having seen too much contained in their depths. But it seemed especially true today, his lip split open and face haggard while he clutched a baseball bat in his hand.

You know the first thing he’s going to ask before it even leaves his mouth.

“Are you hurt?” he huffs out, watching you collapse against the door frame.

“Junho is gone.” You watch Minho’s entire figure tense up when his best friend’s name comes off your lips, his grip around the bat tightening.

“I-, I tried to talk to him, but there was a weird sound on my phone that kept breaking us up, and then I heard him scream, and then…”

You collapse against Minho in a fit of sobs, forced to recount those awful last moments when you’d heard your boyfriend die over a phone call, the chilling screech of something that wasn’t human cutting off his screams for help. And you were trapped halfway across the city, crumpled on the floor, unable to do anything to help him.

Minho’s arms wrap around you, supporting your weight, and he’s moving you both over the threshold, taking care to shut the door softly behind him. You don’t know how many minutes you spend wailing against his chest, the sight of another human forcing you to confront the horror you’d dealt with in the past few days, but eventually, the pain in your ankle makes itself known again, and you slide to the floor.

Minho rests his head against the door frame, his own eyes red-rimmed, and you watch his face contort, trying to hold back the tears from falling.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, watching Minho’s gaze snap to yours. 

“What for?” he croaks. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m so scared, Minho,” your eyes fill with tears. “I thought that no one would come for me, that I’d be alone here, and that I’d…”

You choke, unable to finish the sentence, and you watch Minho straighten next to you. The warmth of his hand wrapping around your waist startles you, watching his lithe body contort as he helps you up off the floor, taking special care not to put weight on your ankle.

“You’re with me now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

There’s a furrow in Minho’s brow when he hears your request, lips tightening into a thin line while his throat bobs.

“Absolutely not.”

The decision is final, resolute, stubborn — Minho’s arms are crossed over each other, and he stares down at your figure among the blankets, eyeing the makeshift splint currently tied around your ankle.

“Minho, please.” It comes out as a whine, years building in your eyes from the frustration of being trapped in the bunker for months on end. 

“I said no.”

Minho had dragged the two of you to safety not long after he’d found you, stealthily dodging the strange creatures that had begun to pop up on the city landscape. There was little in common between them besides their monstrous appearances, but Junho’s screams lingered in the back of your mind, causing you to wake up every night in a cold sweat for the first few weeks.

The tiny bunker became your new home, and Minho your roommate, forced together by circumstances beyond your control. You’d snapped at him when he brought up the idea of leaving, wanting to search for food and supplies outside. 

Unfortunately, your ankle made the final decision for you — Minho would have to be the sacrificial lamb, risking his life for you both. It filled you with an immeasurable amount of guilt, knowing he put himself in danger every day to provide for you both. But it also made you angry, the listlessness that had begun to brew inside you only becoming stronger when you felt more and more useless every time he’d come back with food and medicine for you and nothing for himself. 

Regret cut through you like a searing knife. Who was Minho to do all these things? He’d been Junho’s best friend, not yours. The relationship between you two had been cordial at best, Minho barely managing to string more than five words together every time he was around you. It always seemed to you like Minho stood at the other end of a vast abyss, impossible for you to reach in any way. Admittedly, you’d been no help in closing the chasm, even since you’d both escaped together, the pain in your ankle lulling you to sleep as soon as you swallowed the meds he brought every day. 

Your eyes flit to Minho across the bunker, holed up into the corner. You watch his hands rummage around in his pocket, pulling out a switchblade. The shiny metal gleams in the rays of the sun, Minho’s fingers enclosing around a lock of his messy, overgrown hair—

“STOP!” The switchblade clatters to the floor at the sound of your voice, Minho’s lips parting in surprise. A deep flush creeps across your neck, wondering what had prompted you to interrupt him in the moment. His eyes study you with a curious glint, a thousand questions hidden in them.

“You’ll dull the knife,” you manage to get out, amazed at the calmness in your voice despite your heart racing at a million miles an hour. “What if we need it?”

Minho’s lips twist up into a smirk, and you wonder if he can see through your thinly veiled excuse. If he does, he doesn’t say anything, throwing a baseball cap over the shaggy strands, smiling when they fall into his eyes. 

“Fine,” he acquiesces. “You can come along. But any sign of trouble and you have to leave me and get back here, okay?”

“What do you mean, leave you? You’re coming back with me, of course.”

“___.”

“Minho.”

You push yourself off the ground with your palms, hobbling over to Minho’s side. 

“Thank you,” you whisper softly to him, and Minho rubs at the back of his neck sheepishly, before the door to the bunker creaks open once more, this time the two of you stepping out into the sun together. 

. . . 

Sweat pools on Minho’s shirt, the sun beating down on the two of you while you make your way through the woods, eventually finding yourselves in a vast field. You’re slower than he is, trailing behind him while you skip on your partially healed ankle, but Minho finds he doesn’t mind.

In fact, he thinks he must look like a fool, the huge smile that threatens to take over his face creeping up every few minutes. Somehow, it feels different now, having you here with him. The sun’s rays feel less ruthless, and there’s the faint rustling of a breeze through the meadow. It's almost like he’s on an adventure, and not caught in an endless struggle for survival. He’s filled with the hope that maybe the two of you can come out of this alive. Together.

Pushing through the blades of grass, Minho pauses when he hears a small thud behind him, followed by the faint sound of wheezing. Turning on his heels, his heart turns to ice when he sees you, knees curled to your chest, the faint sheen of sweat lingering on your skin. 

“Shit!” Minho curses into thin air, crouching onto the dirt next to you. “Stay with me ___!”

His arm swings out to steady you, but recoils at the last second, not wanting to startle you. Guilt eats away at his chest when he realizes this is all his fault. He’d been the one to agree to let you go outside. Realization dawns on him that there’d been a reason you stayed in the bunker the entire time, his mind flashing back to the days you must have spent alone in your apartment, full of pain, wondering if anyone would show up.

Minho panics, looking around the field for something, anything that could help hold you over until this passes, when a thought crosses his mind.

“Do you want to hear about the time I tried to walk my cats?” He babbles out, cheeks hot at the silly interruption. It works though, your face jolts up, the trance finally broken. Your eyes are red-rimmed, hair dampened with sweat, snot running down your nose. Minho thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful.

“It was in a field just like this, I brought them out here with their harnesses,” he continues, the smile growing on his face when he sees the stream of tears that run down your cheeks dry up.

“It was a disaster. I thought Doongie ran away for sure, and Soonie just laid down in the grass on his belly, refusing to get up. Dori was the only one who took to it,” he reminsces fondly, a half-sob, half-chuckle escaping him at the memory, trying to soothe the hollow ache in his heart when he thinks of them.

“I wish I’d met them,” you reply softly, your hand resting on Minho’s shoulder.

“It was my fault,” Minho spits out bitterly. “Junho was over all the time, I could have introduced you. They would have really liked you I think.”

Just like I do.

“I hope we find them,” your voice is quiet, but there’s a resoluteness to it that surprises Minho. “They have to be out there somewhere, waiting for you.”

That strange feeling of hope bubbles up in Minho’s chest again, and he helps you up, fighting the burning in his cheeks when your hand remains clasped in his, the two of you hobbling through the field.

Half an hour later, and you’re stopped outside the remains of what looked to be a convenience store, completely ransacked. Minho ignores the emptiness he feels when he lets go of your hand to peer inside, his heart dropping at the bare shelves.

Behind him, a twig snaps, your sharp gasp echoing amidst the silence. The gleam of the switchblade is apparent in seconds, Minho pulling it out of his pocket.

The woman is whimpering, her gauzy white dress in tatters. His eyes trail to her hands, the discoloured nails offset by the glint of a fancy diamond ring, and for a moment, he could almost believe she’d just walked out of the church, beaming from the happiest day of her life.

But her eyes say differently. Hollow pools of black, nothing behind them. She’s one of them.

“___, run.” Minho commands, not even turning to look behind him. He hopes you’re gone already, hopes you won’t have to stick around to see this dark side of him, the one that was used to doing battle with monsters every time he left the safety of your little bunker.

But you’re not gone. Your hand wraps around his, lifting it up to study the switchblade in his hand. He looks into your eyes, full of fear but also sadness at the sight in front of you, and he wonders if you see yourself in her. What things could have been with Junho.

“I don’t think she’s going to hurt us,” you wrestle Minho’s blanched fingers off the blade. “We should just go.”

You pocket the knife, Minho’s jaw tensing at the thought of leaving the woman behind, unsure of the potential harm she could cause. He opens his mouth to protest, but realizes you’ve already begun to walk away, your slumped figure visible against the setting sun. You’re crying again.

The woman wails harder when she sees the two of you go, her cries echoing into the silent night.

It’s cold tonight in the bunker. 

You shiver among the pile of blankets, watching your breath turn into mist in the frosty air. Teeth chattering, you look over to Minho. His pile of blankets is even more sparse than your own, and you catch sight of his own trembling figure. 

It’s cold, your voice echoes in the back of your mind, your feet dragging across the floor, the blankets dragging behind you. 

It’s cold, it echoes again, Minho stirring when you lay by his side, throwing the extra blankets over the two of you. His eyes go wide with shock when he sees your face across his in the darkness, studying the way your hair falls messily in your face, the rapid rising of your chest with every breath. 

It’s cold, it repeats a final time, your lips surging forward to meet Minho’s, a strange noise escaping his throat before one of his arms comes up to wrap around you, his other palm steadying him against the floor. It’s cold and Minho is warm, the heat from his body burning through you when his tongue traces your lips, before slipping inside, a low whine escaping your throat. 

You break away from him, flushed and shivering, but no longer cold. Minho’s hot breath fans against your cheeks, his thumb resting tentatively at the curve of your jaw.

“Touch me please,” you beg him, and his grip around your waist tightens, hands tracing circles on your side. His lips find yours again, thumbs slipping underneath the hem of your shirt, resting against the curve of your hips. You burrow your face into Minho’s neck, leaving featherlight kisses against his jaw, heat rising in your chest when you hear Minho hold his breath. Breaking away, you meet his gaze, the tips of his ears turning red. 

“Anything,” he whispers against your lips. “I’ll do anything for you.”

Sparks crackle in the air between you, the once stagnant air in the bunker becoming filled with frantic energy, you slipping a leg over to straddle Minho, him fumbling with the buttons to your clothes, pushing aside just enough to feel how wet you are. The fingers of his other hand trace under your shirt again, climbing up your stomach, thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts before he tugs at your nipples. 

Sighing, your hips move against Minho’s hardness, pushing aside the worn fabric of Minho’s flannel to press kisses to his collarbones, his thumb working on your clit. Your back arches when he presses another finger inside, and the familiar burn of your orgasm begins to rise, building in your stomach.

“Let go for me,” Minho groans, and the deep growl in his voice has you hurtling over the edge, trembling as you fall apart on top of him. The two of you exchange shallow breaths, Minho’s fingers still buried inside you, and you feel your core begin to clench around them, whining from the oversensitivity.

“Please, please, can I fuck you?” Minho whispers, desperation in his tone. You nod, head spinning with everything that had happened, and you reach back under his sweats, fishing his cock out from underneath them.

He pushes into you slowly, groaning when he feels your walls widening to accommodate him. The two of you stay there for a few moments, catching your breath before you tell him it’s okay to move. His hips snap lazily against yours, fucking you slowly and deeply, soft pants and the sound of your wetness reverberating through the bunker.

You rock against him gently, and you reach for his hands, his warm fingertips slipping through your own easily, limbs tangling together in desperation. 

“You’re perfect god, you’re perfect, I love you, I love you so much,”  he slurs the words, the confession ringing in your ears, soft groans accompanied by the speeding up of his thrusts before he spills inside you. 

Lifting you off of him, his arms reach around your body to press you against him, his lips ghosting your forehead, and you feel the wet trail of tears on his cheeks. Eventually, his breathing slows, soft snores telling you he’s fallen asleep, but you remain restless for the rest of the night.

The headache hits Minho like a freight train in the morning, as he stares up at the rust-covered ceiling. There’s a faint chill in the air, one that became even more pronounced when he woke up and you weren’t by his side, and he wonders for a second if he’d imagined it all, from the softness of your lips to the way the words he’d been wanting to say, waiting years to say spilled out of his throat, every kiss and laugh you shared with Junho burned into his memory. And all he did was look on, hopeless in his desperation. Until everything changed last night.

A loud clang startles him, and he jumps up, watching you throw a heavy sack containing the supplies he’d stockpiled against the walls of the bunker, your back turned to him. He lifts himself off his feet, padding softly behind you, his arm reaching out for you.

“Don’t touch me,” you hiss, words clipped and venomous, and you keep rearranging, completely ignorant to the way Minho stands there, unable to formulate a response, his tongue feeling as though it’s weighed down with lead. 

Rage lights up inside him as he watches you move around him, the silence making his heart freeze over, and he decides that he can’t take it anymore. It’s been months with you acting this way, cold and distant, refusing to let Minho in. Before, he’d been able to write off your happiness with Junho as an excuse, as a reason why he couldn’t let himself get close to you. But Junho was long gone.

“We’re not doing this,” he spins you around to face him. “You don’t get to walk away from me like that.”

You push against Minho’s chest with all the might you can muster, and he staggers back. The look in your eyes makes you seem like a wounded animal, ready to pounce.

“Why’d you say it?” Another push, the words leaving you in a broken sob. “Why’d you do that?”

You bat against Minho’s chest until he can no longer take it, grabbing both of your hands with one of his, pinning you against the wall.

“Because it’s true,” he breathes, looking past you through the window outside, unable to meet your eyes. “I love you ____. I’ve loved you this entire time, even when you were with Junho. And I hate myself for it.”

He lets go of your arms, stepping back, his shoulders beginning to shake with the force of his own sobs. 

“Why do you think I stayed? Why do you think I put myself in danger every day to make sure that you had medicine for your ankle, food to fill your stomach? Why do you think I go out there and kill every single monster I run into, because I need to make it back here, to be with you again?”

“You shouldn’t!” you scream at him. “What kind of life is this? Love should be the last thing on your mind right now, Minho! You should fucking worry about your own neck, and stop giving a damn about me!”

The words tear through you, because you know that if it weren’t for his love, you wouldn’t even be alive right now. And it hurts, hurts to think of how long he’s spent living like this, merely surviving, a wall of ice around his chest.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t. But I do. Do you know that these past few months, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been? What kind of fucked up logic is that? I have nothing, nothing in this world besides this stupid bunker and the clothes on my back, and it makes me want to sob with joy. Because I get you. I get a chance at life with you, after so many years of wishing for it, and knowing I could never have it.”

He falls onto the ground, tucking his head into his knees. 

“The universe gave me another chance,” he whispers softly.

Your blood turns to ice, and you crouch down next to him.

“What do you mean, another chance?”

He looks at you, and you finally see all the pain in his eyes come to the surface, everything that he’s kept bottled up inside.

“It should have been me,” he mutters, lost in his own head. “I told Junho about how I wanted to go up to you that night, how beautiful I thought you were, but before I could do anything, he was there. It ended up being him.”

Your head reels from his confession, and you think back to everything that’s happened through the years. All those memories you had with Junho, Minho lingering in the background, purposely keeping his distance. Memories that you could have had with him instead. Bile rises up in the back of your throat, and you back away.

“I can’t do this, Minho, not right now, I can’t–” 

“I know.” He’s at the door before you can stop him, one foot on the other side of the threshold. “Don’t worry about it.”

He leaves before you can even ask him to stay.

Minho knocks back another shot, stomach churning when he sees Junho approach the pretty brunette, chatting her up. She’s batting her eyelashes and giggling at him, and he knows he should be grateful that his best friend is helping him out, on a desperate mission to cure Minho’s singleness.

But all he can focus on is you in the corner, nervously watching your boyfriend flirt with another girl, and Minho wants to vomit when he sees your lip tremble, eyes glassy with tears. 

He’d driven himself nearly mad with the fantasies about what he’d do if he was in Junho’s position, how much better he could treat you. But at the end of the day, that’s all they were. Fantasies. You two were happy together, and he had no place in it.

Minho suddenly remembers the shiny ring that Junho had shown him last week, tucked away in the drawer of his dresser, and decides promptly that he needs to step outside, the stale air of the bar burning his nostrils.

There’s a faint breeze outside, and it calms him, rewiring his muddled senses enough for him to plop down on the curb. Minho heaves, the alcohol coming back up his throat, but he tries his best to breathe deeply, like his therapist had told him. The pity in her eyes when he’d explained his feelings for you lingers in the back of his mind. You were a vice he couldn’t quit.

A shadow looms next to him, and Minho looks over to see you standing on the curb next to him, studying him curiously.

“Not a fan of cheap vodka?” you chuckle, taking a seat next to him, and Minho internally curses when he feels your thighs brush. He was too drunk for this. 

“Just needed some air,” he tries to laugh it off too. “Gonna have a killer headache tomorrow.”

“She was pretty,” the statement startles him. He couldn’t give less of a damn about the girl Junho was talking to, but it seems that wasn’t the case for you.

“Not interested,” he grits out. Not when she’s not you.

“You know, dating isn’t all it’s cut out to be,” you sigh. “I mean, there are good times, don’t get me wrong, but the bad times feel a thousand times worse when you care about someone. Like seeing your boyfriend flirt with another girl right in front of you.”

There’s a bitter edge to your words, and Minho surprises you, reaching over to cup your cheek and tilt your head towards him.

“Junho is a fool,” the words come out in a slow, heavy breath.

“Happy birthday, Minho,” you whisper, a small smile on your face, and Minho leans in, lips searching for yours. The kiss is quick, a brief graze full of shy reluctance, but you’re surprised you don’t back away, dizzy when he retreats, and missing the feeling of his soft lips.

You lean your head on his shoulder, the two of you lingering on the curb for a few moments, before Junho’s loud voice echoes in the background, startling you apart from each other.

“Hey dipshits, the party’s inside,” he drawls, walking over to swoop you off your feet. Junho presses a peck to your cheek, wrapping his jacket around you, and your eyes roam around frantically, looking for any sign of Minho. But he’s already gone, the faint outline of his leather jacket the only thing you see before he disappears around the corner of the bar, vanishing into the night.

Minho stumbles through the forest, the pounding in his head only growing worse, the memory of the kiss you’d shared consuming his thoughts, splintered with snippets from the conversation with you. The one he’d been waiting so long to have.

The spell had been shattered, and Minho thinks he’s foolish to imagine that it could have lasted, the two of you playing house together, and he cursed the false hope he’d harboured for so long. It was a fucking apocalypse, you were desperate for release, and you’d never cared. Not like he did.

But then his mind flashes back to the kiss, and he doesn’t know what possessed him that night, or possessed you to return it. The moment was the single spark that kept the flickering flame of his love for you going, even now, when you’d basically banished him.

A sharp pain surges through him, and Minho staggers to the ground. He clutches the fabric of his shirt, lifting it up to see the ugly wound he’d been letting fester for weeks, a stray swipe from a monster he’d run into. It’s pulsating now, stabbing into his side, and he wants to kick himself. Why had he been so selfless?

Sometimes, he thinks loving you was the worst decision he’d ever made, the way it consumed him completely. He thinks that maybe if time could reverse, and he had a second chance, that he’d never do it, never lock eyes with you from across the party, your smile forever etched into his memory. But that was a lie. Minho knew he’d do it all again for as long as his heart continued to beat.

Minho feels something squelch on the ground below him, a metallic tang hitting the back of his throat. He swipes at it, crimson coating his fingers. Blood. His blood. He presses a tentative hand to his face, swiping at his leaking nose, but the bleeding won’t stop. There’s too much of it.

Minho screams when his spine cracks, the pain splitting through his entire body, and he feels his eyes roll back into his head. 

When he opens them again, the world is dark. And he runs.

. . .

Your lungs feel like they’re going to collapse, parched for air as you make your way through the forest, wobbling through the trees, looking for something, anything that could lead you to Minho. 

Your heartbeat echoes in your ears, accompanied by a ringing that hasn’t ceased since you left the bunker. The decision still made your stomach turn, afraid to confront the outside world without Minho by your side, but you had to find him. Had to let him know that you wouldn’t let him suffer anymore.

Mind lingering on a specific memory from Minho’s birthday, you realized there’d always been a strange undercurrent between you, even when Junho had been around. Despite how many times he drew away from you, you never let him escape completely. At first, you’d thought it was because he was Junho’s friend, but it all changed after that night outside the bar, your attraction to Minho settling in your chest like a lead weight.

You think back to the months you’d spent together, the world falling apart around you, and how Minho had become your entire world, the reason you’d continued to hope. How you’d fallen in love with every part of him, from the way he’d let you take the first share of food to the messy strands of his grown-out hair. 

The wind whips through your hair, the dense cover of trees thinning around you, and you stumble upon the meadow, a lone figure illuminated in the moonlight. You know it’s him.

“Minho!” you scream, watching as he stumbles across the field in response, trying to get away from you. “Minho!”

You scream until your voice runs hoarse, fighting through the pain in your ankle, and eventually, Minho draws closer and closer, collapsing in the middle of the field. His back is turned to you, and he ducks his head, avoiding your gaze.

You think he’ll run away when you approach him, but he remains lifeless, as still as a statue. Crouching down beside him, you lift his chin, turning his face up to you, a gasp caught in your throat at what you find.

There’s something wrong with his eyes. They shift from the dark brown irises you’d come to know to hollow pools of black. His face is smeared with blood, and his breathing is shallow.

“____, you have to go, I’m turning, it’s not safe, I’m not safe–,” Minho grabs your arm, looking at you with desperation in his eyes. His speech is garbled, but you can hear the gentle tone of his voice still trapped inside. He’s still Minho.

“How dare you tell me to run,” you hiss at him. “How dare you tell me to leave?”

“You don’t understand,” he growls, hands shaking in rage. “I’m a monster!”

Fear strikes you at the realization that something was very wrong with him, something neither you or him had ever been able to anticipate. But it’s overcome by a stronger, more profound emotion.

“I don’t care,” you take his face in your hands again. “I love you, Minho. I loved you through the world ending, and I’ll love you through this. Because your life is mine now, just like mine is yours. It’s our second chance. And we will do whatever it takes to survive.”

Minho clasps your hands in his, fingertips rubbing against your knuckles, and you smile when you notice that his eyes are normal again, no longer filled with darkness. Maybe there was a chance.

“We’ll head west,” Minho rests his forehead against yours, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I saw a hospital nearby. Maybe there are other survivors, people just like us.”

You nod, throwing your arms around him and burying your head into the crook of his neck. The two of you would exit west as soon as the sun rose, ready to start a new journey together.

Perhaps the life you shared was far from perfect but you realized that you’d clutched onto it as desperately as him, because he was the only thing you had. You were each other’s home.

a/n pt. 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

[newkatzkafe2023]

okay, last question but only because my friend is f**aking bugging me about it since they discovered this ask and questions with the Wukongs (they don't have the courage to ask themself)

What If Y/N (any gender) had Six past (you know, from the game Little Nightmares) and acidentally let's It spills once like It was the most normal thing.

How would the Wukongs react now knowing everything that theyr lover has been throu probably when they were not even a teenager yet?

Oh tell your friend that they got nothing to worry about and that I do not judge🙂

(Lmk Wukong) Wow ok that is alot for him honestly, but he doesn't Judge you on it. That is a terrible thing to Experience and go through. Like seriously how did you retain your sanity Because he sure is hell wouldn't. Wukong would never push you to tell him more, do take it easy with this info and take all the time you need. He loves you and will support you all the way.

(NR Wukong) Whooaaaa he's heard his fair share of dark stories, but that's the most F*cked up thing he ever heard. He feels this is kinda special that you shared this with him, because this sounds personal even for him. Wukong would never judge you on the things you did to survive and he would do whatever it takes to support you.

(HIB Wukong) He hates this kind of thing, The idea of children suffering makes his blood boil. Unfortunately your one of those children! No wonder you took so long to talk about it with him, He feels nothing but grief for the experiences,You went through and offered nothing but a listening ear and support. Now that your together He will do everything in his power to make sure you never feel the way you did ever again.

(MKR Wukong) With this info he becomes more protective of you than ever and I didn't even think that's possible. Now knowing that you had to deal with the kidnapping, the Isolation, the hunger pains and starvation. It makes his time under that mountain seem like a paradise. He's mostly glad that you decided to share this with him as you trust and love him enough to do it freely.

(Netflix Wukong) He cried, I kid you not he cried😥 he suffered alot in his life, and to know you were suffering too. He wishes he met you soon so you can get support from him and support each other against the cruel world. He Despises your tormentors and wants Retribution for everything they dare to put you through. But right now he wants to focus on you and giving you the comfort you didn't have as a child.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG

[auroravictorium]

genuinely f*ck netflix. you HAVE the demand for a renewal and a spinoff. you have the PERFECT cast and crew. you have a golden opportunity sitting RIGHT in front of you, and you cancel an amazing show and a spinoff with FANTASTIC potential.

this is why your platform is literally crumbling beneath you. you REPEATEDLY do things that are unpopular with your consumers. cancellations. account sharing restrictions. shows nobody asked for. soon enough, that's going to bite you in the ass. you've cancelled too many good shows that it's honestly only a matter of time 🤷‍♀️

so yeah. f*ck netflix. that's my rant.

[ssspideysense]

facetime

summary: peter misses you while you’re away on a business trip.

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

tags: smut (minors dni), established relationship, phone/video sex, mutual masturbation, showers, praise

wc: 2.8k

“Peter, seriously? I’ve been in my room for, like, two minutes.”

Despite the hint of irritation in your voice and the way you tossed your keys onto the table, your heart still leapt at the sound of his chuckle through the phone.

“I’m sorry I have immaculate timing,” Peter mused into your ear, “actually, nah, I’m not sorry. I missed you.”

You tossed off your shoes, hit the speaker button and fell back onto the plush bed. The phone bounced next to your head, and you heaved a long sigh, letting your eyes slide shut. At first, the idea of traveling for this work trip was tantalizing. Flights, a nice hotel, whatever food you wanted— all paid. And it was nice, for a few days, until you started to miss your apartment back in NYC.

Your cats, your bed, and of course, your boyfriend.

“I missed you too,” you muttered, letting yourself relax into the mattress. “I’m sorry. Today was just so long. I can’t wait to take a hot shower and just lay down.”

A low hum sounded out next to your head. “Without me?”

You opened your eyes just to roll them, despite being all by your lonesome. It didn’t matter. You knew Peter could feel it somehow anyways, miles and miles away.

“Are we sixteen again?”

And he chuckled again. You could hear some shuffling around on his end and imagined Peter rolling over in your shared bed back at home. Soft sheets, your familiar pillow next to his, the smell of him woven into the blanket. His voice pulled you back. “You deserve to relax, sweetheart. Just… here, hold on,” Peter said.

After a moment, a new little jingle trilled from your phone. A FaceTime request.

Brow arched, you held your phone up and pressed accept.

“Peter Parker,” you said, teetering between light scolding and fondness. He smiled back at you on the screen, dimly lit by the TV across the room. Messy hair, some stubble on his jaw— your heart thumped hard in your chest. “I said I need to shower.”

His sleepy smile turned a bit wolffish. “Yeah, but now we can hang out. Just prop me up somewhere in the bathroom with you.”

“Are you serious?” You laughed.

“One hundred percent.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

… but you listened anyway. The phone was set up on a shelf in the bathroom, angled so you could peek out from behind the curtain and see his face on the screen. He was laid down in bed, partly obscured by his pillow, but he watched your silhouette with a longing, sleepy gaze. “I can’t wait until you’re home,” you heard him over the water.

“Two more days, babe,” you replied, lathering shampoo into your hair.

“I’ve been dying here, all alone… nobody to sleep next to… nobody to eat food and watch Netflix with…” Peter sighed dramatically. “It’s honestly bordering on cruelty at this point.”

You tipped your head back under the warm water, laughing. The heat flushed your body and relaxed your muscles so nicely from such a stressful day. And hearing Peter’s voice— that definitely helped. “I think you’ll survive,” you replied, though you felt very much the same. Peter groaned, making you pop your head out from the curtain and send him a pointed look. He’d shifted a bit in bed, propped up on his elbow now.

“I guess I might,” he said, his gaze flickering down to the water that ran down your neck, down your shoulder. He sucked in a breath through his nose. “Y’know what might help, though?”

You rolled your eyes, something of a grin growing on your lips. “What, babe?”

Peter blinked his big brown eyes into the camera. “Can I get a look, pretty please?” He asked sweetly.

Of course, you already knew what he wanted— it was just satisfying to hear him ask. A little scoff jumped from your lips, but you pulled the curtain back a bit more anyway. The colder air hit you like a wall and raised goosebumps on your wet skin. “You weirdo,” you mused, and tipped your head back under the warm water again.

His gaze wandered over your familiar form on his phone screen. Bare, vulnerable, something he’d seen countless times before but never, ever got tired of. “You can call me whatever you want, beautiful,” Peter grinned, “I’m just happy to be here.”

“Happy to be watching me shower on FaceTime?” Lathered loofah in hand, you laughed lightly under your breath as you covered your body in bubbles. “You want me to be your own personal cam girl or something?”

Peter’s brows raised. “I mean—“

“Don’t answer that.”

He watched with rapt attention, following the loofah over every curve of your body. Soap and suds slowly slid down your smooth skin. He could easily imagine his hands running over you instead. Down your arms, your sides, his fingers curling around your hips.

Peter’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. His eyes fell down to your ass, as much as he could see from this angle, anyway.

As you continued to lather and scrub, you noticed Peter had fallen awfully quiet over the past few minutes. A quick glance over at your phone told you he’d changed positions again, now sitting up against the headboard with his phone in hand. He blinked once you made eye-contact through the screen, his little jolt not escaping your attention.

“What’re you doing?” You eyed him, a brow raised.

Peter shifted the phone a little bit. “Just enjoying my time with you,” he replied simply.

But you knew him better than that— you could tell when he was being sneaky, because he had an awful poker face when it came to you.

“Yeah? Just sitting there?” You squeezed the loofah over yourself, big fluffs of bubbles rolling down your neck and chest. A gentle but deliberate hand eased down your side and up your stomach, slathering the suds across your soft skin.

“You look so good,” Peter ignored your question, focusing instead on how you moved so languidly under the water and through the steam, “so, so good. Turn around for me?”

A flurry of butterflies fluttered in your belly unexpectedly. Part of you felt silly for this whole video chat bit, but you also felt a sense of excitement bubbling up under the surface that outweighed your embarrassment. After a short pause, you listened and turned where you stood, leaning forward against the tile wall with an arch in your back— if you were going to give in, you might as well have fun with it. You gave your phone a glance over your shoulder. Peter’s eyes were locked onto the screen. His usually sweet, boyish grin was replaced with something else— something a bit wistful, a bit hungry.

“God,” he sighed, and you watched the camera shift slightly again in a rhythm. “That’s my girl.”

Your breath caught in your throat momentarily. Heat pooled in your face and your lower belly. For some reason, this felt a bit taboo, watching what you could see of his bare shoulder and arm move and flex in such an obvious way. “Peter, are you—“

“Yeah,” he interrupted you, a little gruff. Alone in your shared bed, he pumped himself just behind where he held his phone, his gaze washing over you on the screen. “Yeah, ‘s that okay, baby?” His voice had that husky quality he tended to get during those late night fucks, where both of you were half asleep but your bodies were responding to each other on their own. He’d whisper praise against your neck between grumbled curses as he rutted against you from behind, melded together under the blankets.

A deep ache settled between your legs. ‘s that okay, baby?

Facing the phone again, you let the water run over you and chase the bubbles down the drain. “Yeah, that’s okay,” you replied softly. Your back hit the cool tile as you leaned back. “Just couldn’t wait until I got home?” Silky smooth, your hand trailed down to your thigh, which Peter immediately took note of.

“No,” Peter replied quickly. “No, I couldn’t. I’ve— do you know how hard it is to smell you everywhere, knowing you’re not here?” He squeezed his length from the base, working up to his leaking tip as he groaned lightly. “I feel like I can smell your shampoo just watching you right now. And I can feel your skin… you’re always so soft, sweetheart.”

One of your feet settled on the edge of the tub. Your hand eased its way up your slickened thigh to tease through your folds, head tilted back against the speckled tile behind you. Peter’s heightened senses were as much of a blessing as they were a curse, you knew that all too well. It wasn’t hard to imagine your boyfriend rutting into his own hand, maybe a shirt of yours (or a pair of panties, if he was feeling particularly shameless) pressed to his nose. “Let me see you,” you said, your middle finger slipping between your lips to tease your sensitive bud.

Peter obliged immediately. He shifted the phone further, letting his cock gripped in his hand into view. It didn’t matter how long you’d been together, or how many times you’d been intimate already— you still felt a rush seeing Peter like this. Almost automatically, there was a rhythm between you two. Peter worked up and down his shaft, occasionally squeezing his leaky tip, the beads of pre smearing over his velvety flushed skin. You could see the way his chest rose and fell unsteadily. It mirrored your own clipped breaths. The steam from the shower was making it even harder to get enough air, but you didn’t care. This moment between you two felt intense in a new sort of way, a spark lit under you as you watched each other through the screens.

A sheen of sweat built on your brow. Your legs were starting to feel a bit weak, your fingers swirling increasingly sloppy circles over your clit. “How many times have you jerked off thinking about me while I’ve been gone?” you found yourself blurting out thoughtlessly.

He groaned at the words that slipped from your mouth. “Too many,” Peter said, his eyes fluttering shut. “The longest two weeks of my life.”

“Poor baby,” a grin grew on your face, head tilted to the side as you watched him. Your fingers slipped and glided over your skin— you never thought you’d be so turned on from something like this. Intimacy and sex with Peter wasn’t vanilla, but this experience was definitely something unique for the both of you. “I bet you got hard before I even got in the shower,” you teased, “probably sitting there, aching, just thinking about it.”

“Fuck,” Peter hissed under his breath. His rhythm faltered for a moment, the veins in his hands raising even more under his skin. “I’m— I’m not gonna last if you keep talking like that, babe,” he clenched his jaw.

He opened his eyes in time to watch you let out a soft moan, the sound bouncing off the shower walls a little too well. He couldn’t help the shaky exhale that followed. “That’s okay,” you breathed, “I wanna watch you come anyway.” Your hips rocked into your hand, and Peter watched your body roll deliciously against itself. Another hiss, fighting to keep his eyes open and locked onto his phone screen.

The air in your woefully empty apartment felt too thick all of a sudden. “You wanna watch me?” His breath hitched in his throat, a bit desperate to keep hearing you. The dirty talk did him in every time. A building tension tightened his lower belly, his muscles clenching in anticipation. Peter quickened his pace. His hand pumped and squeezed his poor swollen cock and his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“I love watching you… you look so pretty, and you always make the best noises,” your unoccupied hand glided up your damp body to cup your tit, a finger flicking over your hardened nipple. “I can tell you’re close. That’s okay, baby. Can you come for me?”

“God,” Peter groaned again, sucking in a deep breath from his nose.

You rubbed your clit quickly in a swiping motion, breathing heavier and heavier in the thickening steam. “Go ahead, baby, just let go,” you were so close to teetering on your own edge, the soft instruction bordering on a whine, “please come for me.”

The camera shook slightly. Peter’s gaze turned a bit hazy, but he managed to keep his eye on you, brows furrowed into a pinched look of bliss. A few strangled curses jumped out between his moans, the most heady and intoxicating sound. You watched with a pounding heart as Peter’s hand stilled near his tip, his body writhing a little, lean muscles flexing in the dim light. He shot most of his load onto his abdomen, and you wished you had a closer look— you could see the last dribbles wetting his fist, glistening from the glow of his phone, milking his dick and riding out the end of his orgasm.

Your own peak wasn’t far behind. Peter was still trying to catch his breath when you let out your own symphony of sounds and light gasps. Even over the static hum of the shower, you tried to contain yourself, swallowing down the loudest and most insistent whimpers and whines the best you could. Your legs shook. They felt incredibly heavy and weightless all at the same time.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Peter said, low and breathy, as he watched you hump against your own hand.

Head rolled back against the shower tile, the building ache and tension snapped in your lower belly, and you sucked in a sharp gasp. The orgasm came crashing over you, hot and all-encompassing. Your fingers couldn’t seem to move fast enough, not the way Peter’s could whenever he held you against him in bed and kissed your temple while you came on his hand. That’s all you could think about as your eyes squeezed shut— the feeling of Peter’s hands on you, the sound of his voice, the peaks and valleys of his abs coated in his own come, right now, because he missed you and he couldn’t help himself—

“Christ,” you breathed, hand slowing to a lazy pace, your heart loud and insistent in your ears. Your clit slowly throbbed with an echo heartbeat.

It was quiet for a moment, your eyes still closed and your head pressed against the cool wall. Sweat slicked your semi-damp hair to your forehead and the bathroom suddenly felt so muggy.

“You did so good, babe. Jesus. Why haven’t we done anything like that before?”

A tired sort of laugh seeped out of you and you dropped your leg. You’d gotten so tensed up in that position without realizing it— an ache settled in your thighs. “Because we’ve never been apart like this before,” you mused.

Peter shuffled around, the camera now pointing up at the ceiling with his phone laying on the bed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But I’m definitely not eager for you to leave like this again,” he sounded a bit distant through the speaker, and you figured he’d gone to clean himself up. All the excitement left you feeling a strange mix of dirty and clean, sweaty and hot but still blanketed in the smell of all of your sweet bath scents. You rinsed yourself off and cut the water by the time Peter and picked up his phone again, his big brown eyes sleepy on the screen.

He watched you dry yourself off. He was laid down again, cheek smushed against his pillow.

“You’re staring, Peter,” you didn’t even have to look up to know for sure.

“I can’t help that you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

A smile bloomed on your tired face. “You’re in your post-nut mushiness. It’s not fair that I’m not there for it.”

“No,” Peter rolled over in bed, taking you with him on the phone, “but you’re kind of here, with me. I know you’re exhausted, but maybe we can just… lay like this, for a while.”

So you did.

You kept Peter on FaceTime while you got dressed, drank some water, and laid down in the impossibly soft hotel bed. He was propped up next to you, and it almost felt like he was there, laying on the same side he slept in at home.

“Did you say goodnight to the cats for me?”

“I do, every night.”

“Do they say anything back?”

“Y’know, the usual,” Peter yawned, “fuck off, wait, no, I love you, can you put more food in my bowl?”

You gave a sleepy little laugh in response, cut off by a yawn, and Peter smiled warmly through the screen. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”