#a-lonely-gray-couch

[joeyfranchise]

𝟙𝟚 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕚𝕔-𝕞𝕒𝕤: 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕨𝕠

cindy lou who…

ex!joe x fem!reader

summary: the boy that you love is with someone new…

warnings: none, it’s just sad. sfw, but minors please do not interact with my page.

word count: 1.2k.

note: based on the song cindy lou who by sabrina carpenter. i also drew inspo from harry styles’ cover of girl crush, and heather by conan gray.

it was christmas eve again, and you were all alone in your apartment, deciding against traveling to be with your family.

with a glass of wine in hand and your coziest robe on, you sat on the couch ready to get comfortable and watch a christmas movie. for most of the day you moped around, sad you’d be spending christmas alone… but it was up to you to change that.

you scrolled through the endless amount of movies before settling on a favorite, love actually.

you sipped at your wine as the movie began to play, trying to immerse yourself in it. you thought about getting up and making a snack, but your phone buzzed, and that took all your attention. it was a text from your sister, nothing that really required your attention, but you opened it nonetheless.

attached was a picture of herself and her boyfriend in front of a gigantic beautifully lit christmas tree. she was smiling from ear to ear, and her boyfriend was looking at her so sweetly. the message along with it read “we miss you! wish you were home!”

you love reacted the message and responded back with a simple “miss you!” but all it really did was remind you how lonely you were. you exited out of your messages and turned your attention back to the movie briefly before opening up instagram, ready to doomscroll. movies could never really keep your attention, but you needed the background noise.

when you looked back at your phone screen, the breath was almost knocked from your lungs. the first post was from your ex… you weren’t sure why you still followed him.

in the photo, joe was standing in a grandeur hallway, poised in front of a beautiful archway that was decorated with beautiful lights and red and green holly. next to him was a beautiful girl, the one who you could only assume replaced you.

she had long, silky, perfectly curled hair. her hand was on his chest, her beautifully manicured nails painted with tiny candy cane designs. her makeup was gorgeous as she smiled up at joe, the wing of her eyeliner was perfect, her lips the most beautiful glossy red you’ve ever seen.

he looked so happy as he stared into the camera, and it broke your heart for a moment knowing that you weren’t the one creating that happiness. you swiped to the next photo. it hurt even worse than the first.

in this photo, joe’s hand was pressed to the small of her back and he was pulling her into him. he smiled down at her, and you could almost feel the love and adoration beaming from his eyes onto her.

you knew how it felt. he used to look at you that way.

you wondered how they met, what she did to pull him in. you wondered what it took for her to break down that hard exterior he had, how she was able to melt him down, how she got him to smile like this... to post photos like this. you felt physically sick looking at it.

you swiped to the last photo. she stood there between joe and robin, with joe’s dad on his other side. they all looked so happy, smiling in the christmas lights. you could feel the bile rising in your throat.

there he was, the man you loved, smiling so happy and in love with someone else. you wanted to hate her, but how could you? sure, she was doing things you used to do, but it seemed like she brought the light back to joe. you hadn’t seen him that happy in a while, especially not the last few months of your relationship.

you reminisced on christmases you’d spent with him, how it used to be you taking photos with his parents. how it was you who woke up with him in his old bed, underneath his star wars themed sheets and bedspread.

how you’d help his mom cook breakfast, you’d spend time with his brothers’ families, you’d open gifts with him. you giggled at how you’d sneak upstairs late after everyone was asleep to have a christmas treat, trying not to laugh too loud and wake everyone up.

you tried not to throw up as you imagined them kissing under the mistletoe that’d be hung above the hearth, just like you used to. you thought about how beautiful a ring would look on her finger, about how elated joe would be to give it to her.

you remembered everything you felt for him, when he won the natty, the heisman, when he was drafted.. you were there, you were in love, but the fire began to die. joe was becoming more and more unhappy, and you had to let each other go. and now, as you sat lonely, without even your family, here was joe. happy and in love with a beautiful girl, someone who wasn’t you.

you wondered if it was snowing in ohio, you were almost sure of it. would he take her outside and spin her around in the snow, just like he did with you?

it stung, but all you could do was force yourself to be glad for him. he deserved love, you knew that. you wanted that for him, even if it was with someone else. you wondered everything about her. what did she smell like? was her skin soft? what does her voice sound like?

she was everything for joe that you couldn’t be, but that was okay. you had to be okay with it. you noticed joe tagged her in the photo, but you wouldn’t bother scrolling her page, or if it was private, you wouldn’t send her a request. her life with joe was none of your business, even if it hurt.

you didn’t know if it’d be messy, but against your better judgment, you liked joe’s post. you were going to be happy for him, no matter what. you locked your phone, placing it face down on the couch as you stood to go make yourself some popcorn.

once you returned, you focused your attention back to the movie which left you bawling by the end. you finished your wine as well, and you gathered your dishes to take them to the sink before pulling the curtains closed. you stopped for a moment to admire all the lights outside before you had them fully closed.

you picked up your phone as you got ready to head to bed, your heart sinking as you noticed an instagram notification on your lockscreen. when you opened it, your hand instinctively flew to cover your mouth, your legs feeling shaky, almost like jello.

joeyb_9: merry christmas, y/n.

that was all it read, but it nearly ripped your heart from your chest. what made him message you, you weren’t sure. you started to sob, the cries wracking through your body. it took everything in you to respond, but you did, you had to tell him one last thing.

y/n: merry christmas, joe. i’m so happy for you.

and with that you were off to bed, dreaming of joe and his cindy lou who… the girl who wasn’t you.

all photos and dividers used are not mine. credit to original owners.

taglist: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @definitelynotdomanique @samanthamark5 @superstarshitblog @fa1ry03 @wickedfun9 @xbriexx @venic-bxtch @burrowdarling @angels555 @idbe-theman @yelenasbraid @ladyluvduv @joeburrowshaircurl @joeybisbootiful @livinobx @blairsworld22 @jarring-behavior @joeyburrrow

[wikiangela]

It's a quiet evening, they're winding down after a long, exhausting day of work, just enjoying each other's company. They're on the couch, a cheesy romcom playing on the TV, Tommy's head in Buck's lap, Buck's fingers playing with Tommy's soft curls.

He's watching Tommy more than the movie. He observes his reactions, the soft smiles, the small chuckles, the eye rolls and scoffs - depending on what's happening on the screen. He's so beautiful and Buck wants to stare at him forever. And he gets to.

He beams, as he glances at his hand, still in Tommy's hair, where a simple silver band sits right on his ring finger, an exact match to the one on Tommy's hand, now casually resting on his stomach. Well, almost an exact match, the inscription on the inside just a little bit different - they both say their wedding date and the word 'forever' but they also have each other's names inscribed. Buck likes to take if off sometimes and just look at the words, trace his fingertip over Tommy's name, still amazed that this is his life, even after over a year of being married already.

So he observes his husband, eyes scanning all over, while Tommy's completely immersed in the movie, the romantic dork - Buck loves that he's the only one who truly gets to see this side of him. He's so cute and gorgeous, and Buck loves him so much and just can't take his eyes off him.

That's when he notices it, and a gasp breaks out of him. He can feel a huge grin pulling at his face.

"What's wrong?" Tommy immediately looks at him, a small concerned frown creasing his forehead. When he notices Buck smiling, worry turns into pure confusion. "Evan?"

"Baby." Buck says seriously, his fingers gripping a strand of Tommy's hair, as he announces happily, "You have your first gray hair." He's looking right at it, just a tiny, barely noticeable, silvery hair. It's there, and it looks beautiful, and Buck already kind of can't wait to see his husband get more of them.

"Okay?" Tommy's frown deepens, this time with amusement. "So?"

"So-" Buck starts, then shakes his head. It's stupid, it's just a hair, no big deal, everyone gets them eventually, it's nothing special. But in a way, it is. Because when they met a few years ago Tommy didn't have gray hair. Because in their line of work, and with their luck, with Buck's luck, seeing yourself or a person you love grow old is not always a given - and it's such a blessing. This, seeing a gray hair in Tommy's hair, combined with wrinkles starting to form on his beautiful face - it's an amazing sight. They're sharing a life together, growing older together, they're able to see each other go through all these changes, step by step, day by day, seemingly unnoticeable unless you pay particular attention. It makes Buck feel so grateful for this life he has, for his husband, for getting this chance. "Nothing," he says, fingers resuming combing through Tommy's thick curls, eyes still drawn to that lone gray hair. "I just love you."

"I love you, too, Evan." Tommy smiles that crinkly smile that makes the lines around his eyes even more pronounced. Buck has to lean down and kiss his lips, then the corner of his eye, making Tommy laugh. "What's that have anything to do with my gray hair?"

"I just really like the thought of getting to grow old with you. Of spending my life with you." Buck whispers, and sees Tommy's smile melt into that soft 'Evan' smile, reserved just for him.

"And you say I'm sappy," he responds teasingly, and Buck laughs. Oh, he loves Tommy so much. He looks into Tommy's eyes and sees everything he was just thinking about. He sees how Tommy wants the same things, how he appreciate those reminders, like a silly gray hair, of getting to go through life together.

He kind of can't wait to start going gray, too. To grow old with his husband.

[urfavlarry]

Fallen Blessings

Alastor x fallen angel!reader

warnings: none!

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Alastor stood behind you, hand on your hip as he watched with a insane looking smile as all of hell fall into panic as the angelic exterminaion began. A white angelic light emited hells lonely streets, thousands and thousands of exterminators flying down like hungry animals. “So much for being ‘angelic beings’.” You think to yourself and scoff. Alastor twirls you around, smirking down at you. You stared at him without a bit of expression on your face, examining every inch of his face. Slow jazz music starts to play, Alastor swaying with you as loud screams start to echo through the pride ring. Your mind was else where as Alastor dipped you, your head barely above the ground. You think about how heaven once was, your once pearly white wings were a gray, almost black color, the tips of your feathers still a vibrant gold. You never could have imagined that heaven, a paradise where most of humanity wishes to end up after death would decide on such a cruel thing as exterminations. You get pulled back into reality when Alastor cups your cheek, making your once innocent eyes look into his crimson ones. He pinches your cheek making you wince.

“What’s bothering you mon chéri?” He says and you shrug, looking back at the ruckus outside. “It’s nothing love, just thinking about.. heaven.” You say and he laughs out loud, making you look at him with a raised brow. “Oh but whatever for? You’ve got me down here in this wretched place, don’t you?” He says and you nod, leaning your head on his chest, swaying a bit more slowly. “Just wonder of how things would be if I managed to convince the high Seraphim to stop those exterminations, or if I never even found out about them in the first place.” You say making him stop in his tracks as if he just got frozen in place. He grabs you by the shoulders and looks you in the eyes. “You never told me about this?” He asks with a curious smile, leading you to the couch in the hotels library. He looks at you expectantly, looking like a child that’s about to find out about the tooth fairy, which was a funny sight since this is the radio demon we’re talking about here.

So you tell him about the events before getting thrown out of the eternal paradise they call heaven. Getting caught listening to a conversation the first human; Adam and the high Seraphim; Sera were having about hells overpopulation. You weren’t caught for being loud, no, no. You were too naive to think there wasn’t an angel right on the other side of the door who heard your little gasp after finding about the exterminations. And so you were thrown out, which was a bit stupid considering they added another soul to the already overpopulated hell. Alastor laughed, commenting on how reckless the angels were which you somewhat agreed to. “Maybe things could’ve been different, and maybe that whole event is the reason why i’m here in this hotel. I doubt it will work but I have hopes for the girl. She’s smart but she has a long way to go to achieve this dream, if it’s even possible.” You rant, fiddling with your fingers and look anywhere but at Alastor. He puts a hand on yours, squeezing it lightly as comfort. You open your mouth to speak but get interrupted by Alastor. “They were reckless to kick out such a heavenly soul into hells streets.” He starts making your stomach turn. “They have no idea what a blessing they lost.” Your cheeks redden as he kisses your cheek, pulling you closer by the waist.

“You’re a true angel mon amour, when I saw you I thought I was getting redeemed into heaven that’s how heavenly you are.”

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[persephonesdreams21]

Sweet Tooth

A/N: Well let me say first and foremost. My bad guys. Lol I didn't mean to keep this rotting in my drafts for almost a year, but life got crazy. I hope you guys enjoy this

Warnings: Explicit. Oral(fem receiving) Body worship. Finger sucking. Squirting. Multiple orgasms. Willy being down bad.

Summary: You’re sweeter than any chocolate he could cook up, and Willy is all too eager to show you just how much he craves you. Your smiles, your attention…your taste.

The last few weeks of your life have been vibrant.

Filled with technicolor so unlike the dreary years you’ve spent in this town. Between the weather and the chipped cobblestone, England was so gray this time of year. Frigid and frozen over with winter winds and a constant flurry of snow.

It was on a particularly cold night that you’d found him.

Saved him, he’d argue whenever he told the story. Saved him from Bleacher and his mangy mutt.

“Don't you ever get tired of harassing people?” you'd sighed as you'd stumbled upon the scene. A familiar one- another poor soul about to get roped into Bleacher and Scrubbit’s barely concealed hoodwink. Everyone who’d grown up in this city knew better.

“Why don't you mind your business, Y/N. And leave us be. Both me and mister-” Bleacher looks to the man. The one with the sharp cheekbones and the ostentatious velvet trench coat.

“Wonka. Willy Wonka” And he’d said it with such innocence gleaming in those bright eyes that in that moment, you knew you couldn't let him fall victim to the cruel scam.

That’s how you’d ended up with an unexpected housemate.

The home you’d grown up in is nothing special and far from fancy, but you do happen to have a spare room. One with an old fold-out bed that’s more comfortable than it looks. It may have been stupid, but you couldn't help but trust him. Want to help him, feel this pull to him…

That was weeks ago. Almost a month now.

Willy living with you, under your roof, feels oddly natural. Like it had been years that the two of you had been co-existing, he fits into your space like he was destined to come to you. Like he belongs there; the two of you working together like a well oiled machine.

You cook dinner, he washes the dishes and wipes down the counters. The house has never been neater. Even though you try to deny them, every day when he returns from the Gallery Gourmet, he leaves silver shillings in the key bowl on the kitchen table.

“It’s not much…but I want to make sure I’m paying my way. I’m real appreciative of all you’ve done for me” he tells you so earnestly it makes you blush. You sneakily slip his sovereigns in the pockets of his trousers when you do his laundry.

He doesn't know it but he’s helped you too. And not just by scrubbing dishes.

You truly hadnt realized how lonely you were until he came along, and you were terrified of losing your found companion. You’d hold on to him for as long as he’d allow.

Your new favorite time of the day is the evenings; quiet ones. With a fire burning in the hearth and the radio playing softly. You and Willy curl up on the couch, warm in your respective quilts. And read. Well, you read to him. At his persistent insistence.

“Aren't you tired of me blabbing yet?” you tease as you pick up the dog eared copy of The Hobbit that the two of you had been working your way through.

Willy gives you a grin, all boyish and crooked “Never that. I adore the way you tell stories”

That makes your stomach swoop dangerously and you shake your head “You’re a flatter, Mr. Wonka”

“No, no. Your voice is more melodic than the bells of Notre Dame” and when he says things like that to you, how are you not supposed to swoon? From any other man it would make you scoff, but from Willy his compliments always feel different.

Like maybe he’s telling the truth…

You ignore it and change the subject to something that feels safer “One day i'm gonna put you in front of a map and make you show me all the places you’ve been”

“Honestly, It would probably be easier to mark off the few places I haven't been-”

“Oh ho ho ho. How modest of you, great explorer” You tease around a laugh and his ears redden a bit at your ribbing.

“It's not like that and you know it” Willy defends “It was a lot less glamorous than it sounds. I spent seven years under the deck scrubbing pots and then collecting ingredients for my chocolate whenever we made port”

“And wooing girls on every continent?” I ask and that blush on his ears spreads to the high apples of his cheeks.

He’s a pretty one and you know even though he pretends to be demure, might come off as innocent, he’s anything but.

You’d gotten a small taste of it, and hadn't thought of anything else since. But neither of you had quite mustered the bravery to talk about that yet.

The two of you settle in on the old worn couch with mugs of steaming hot chocolate, courtesy of Willy. He’d spoiled you rotten, made you develop a terrible sweet tooth. Any cavities you develop, you’re completely blaming on him.

“Willy” you whine.

“Just try it, please. I made this recipe especially for you”

You take a sip.

The first rush of flavor over your taste buds has your eyes fluttering.

“Mmm, oh my god” you can't help but moan. It’s the most complex thing you’ve ever tasted. Truly. He’s outdone himself- cinnamon and warmth.The kind that feels like a a lovers embrace. Sweet milk chocolate. Is that a hit of rose? “This is insane, what’s in this?”

At your praise Willy smiles like the cat that caught the canary “Cinnamon bark from Sri Lanka, Wild roses from China. Coconut milk”

You look over at him, appraising. Trying to figure out why his voice has taken on that husk. Why his eyes are boring into so intensely.

“What a peculiar combination of flavors” you whisper and Willy bites his lip.

“Its become my favorite combination lately” he admits “but I can't seem to get it quite right. You see, I was allowed to taste it only once, and its tormented me since”

Your breath hitches. Flashes of tangling tongues tongues and his lips pressed against yours. It had only been one kiss but it had wreaked havoc on you since.

You eyeball the mug in your hands. Maybe you weren't the only one suffering with the after effects after all.

“Is this chocolate supposed to taste like?...”

“You. Yes. Your kiss. Your tongue and your lips” Willy nods. “I don't know if anything can come close to the real thing, but I tried”

Your heart thunders behind your ribcage. The longing in his voice matches the one within your gut, the need that had been brewing.

“I’ve spent hours. Thinking of you, trying to imitate your taste so that I could have it one more time. Spicy, but not quite. More warm. Sweet…the floral note from your lipstick. I’ve been nearly everywhere and i’ve never sampled anything quite like it”

With his confession, the thin thread of control snaps.

You’d been trying, so hard. Trying not to scare him away. Trying to keep the intensity of your feelings at bay so that he’d stay, even after he secured his shop. That he wouldnt leave you when he found success-

You place the mug down on the old wood of the side table-

“Please” Willy’s pathetic as he grabs at your arm “Don't go, I understand if this was too much but I- I didn't know how else to show you”

You lean into his touch, not away and that seems to calm him if only just.

Of course this sweet silly man couldn't just tell you that he cared for you. That was not his style. He was bad with words, so much better with his hands. To him, he’d shown you the most sincere form of devotion, crafted your portrait with his most loved medium.

“I feel the same” you say, voice quivering just the tiniest bit. His eyes melt and he comes in close, forehead knocking against yours.

When you kiss him its hot from the start. It’s wet and electric, charged with emotion. With desperation. Willy’s sinewy hands are all over you, cupping your chin, squeezing your waist, so much more bold this time. The waiting had lowered any inhibitions he might have had.

It’s frantic, him unbuttoning your blouse and you tugging at his trousers.

You need more. Need to feel his dark silky hair between your fingers, his pale skin under your palms.

Nothing feels like enough. Not when he mouths at your garment covered breasts or when you wiggle out of your skirt.

You reach into his boxers, wanting to palm at the blood hot hardness you’ll find there-

He groans and pulls his mouth away from your neck, where he’d been suckling marks into the delicate skin. “Wait, don’t”

“Why?” you’re confused, you can feel him. Firm and needy under the cloth.

“Because I want to take care of you first. With my mouth. If you’ll let me”

And oh. Oh.

All you can do is nod. Lay back and let him take what he needs, you feel more vulnerable than ever before. When he blankets you with his body, you realize that you also feel safer. Adored by this man, by this odd beautiful man.

Willy is a tactile person. He wants to touch and taste. And so that is what he does.

There’s so much to feel. Your heavy breasts, peaked with hard little nipples that he swirls his tongue round. Your belly and wide hips, so soft, so much give, he watches his fingers dig in and indent. Your thighs, so plush.

He buries his head between them. And inhales, deeply.

“Willy!” you exclaim, scandalized, trying to close your legs, but he shoulders his way deeper.

“You smell so good” Willy reassures you, his nose pressed against the wet patch on your knickers. Groaning like it’s the best scent in the world.

He takes his time, savors the moment as he peels the damp fabric away. His eyes locked on how the strings of slick stretch and shine in the low fire light. You’re so wet, the puffy lips of your cunt sopping already. And when he takes his first tentative lap, he knows that he could do this for hours and there's no way he’d ever be able to replicate it.

Nectar from the gods. Earthy and sour sweet.

You whimper as he feasts, as he gorges greedily. The sight of his dark head bobbing between your thighs makes you shudder. It’s almost unreal. That he’s doing this, that he wants you. His arms are wrapped around the back of your thighs, holding them up, holding you open.

You come for the first time with your fingers buried in his hair, pressing his face deep into you. Riding his nose and tongue.

For the second time you’re arching away from the sharp pleasure.

“Willy” you choke on your whines as his fingers reach deep into you, hitting that sensitive place inside over and over. You’re shaking with overstimulation, but hes groaning like he’s the one being brought to orgasm over and over.

He pulls his wet mouth away every so often. To tell you how beautiful you are. How good you taste.

“I can’t” you whisper, warningly.

“Please” Willy insists, his breath against your clit “One more, one more for me”

You can't deny him anything, can you?

You arch right up from the couch cushions, squealing as you hit that peak again. But this time is different, this time something inside you bursts, pushing wetness out in a flood.

Willy lets out a gutted sound from where he’s smothered by your thighs, that have tightened vice like around his head during your orgasm.

Coming down from it is almost painful and you’ve never sobbed from pleasure but well. There’s a first time for everything. While you shake and shiver Willy’s gentle, petting your thighs and tummy in soothing circles. Pulling away from your over sensitive flesh.

He stares up at you, his gaze heavy and his tongue poking out every few seconds. Swiping at his wet lips. Like he can't stop tasting you. It’s debauched. Beautiful.

“You are the best thing i’ve ever tasted” Willy pants out the vow, raw with honesty. Drunk on the flavor of you.

Wryly, you wonder if he’ll try to manufacture it into a truffle. A fancy bon bon.

You smile as he climbs back fully on top of you, your arms wrapping around him and holding him close. You kiss the shell of his ear before whispering-

“My turn to taste you”

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I never thought I’d be writing Willy Wonka smut but well. Here I am lol

[detroit-become-hurt]

Baby I'm Down Bad For You

Hi. Okay. Sevika fic because I have brain rot I tell you, brain rot! Also I haven't watched S2 of Arcane yet, I don't have my netflix sub anymore. But I've seen stuff on tiktok so I have a vague idea what happens. Modern AU Sevika x Reader

Sevika sighed as she peered around the bar, glass of whiskey in hand as she thoughtfully wondered if it was too late to back out now and go home. She had begrudgingly agreed to a stupid blind date, why? she wasn’t quite sure herself. Maybe she was tired of being lonely, tired of being disappointed by shallow and self centered women who wanted to get close to her for the sake of money. So when a colleague at work offered to set her up on a blind date, she thought to hell with it.

But now, as she sat in the bar overlooking the inhabitants, she wondered if this was a good idea. She didn’t want to admit that she really wanted this to turn into something good. She was tired of seeing couples around her, lovey dovey and shit. Though she never showed or voiced it, Sevika ached for companionship. Someone to come home to at the end of the day, and curl up on the couch with.

Downing the rest of the alcohol she pulls out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a deep drag. She much preferred cigars, but in places and times like these, cigarettes would work. How much longer would she have to wait? She had no clue what you looked liked, so how was she supposed to know when you were here?

Almost as if hearing her thoughts, you make your way into the crowded bar. The music is loud, too loud really. And there’s too many people for your liking. Why couldn’t your friend suggest someplace more chill for a blind date? Your eyes scan the crowd, searching for the figure that matched the description your friend had given you.

“I’ll try not to give too much away. But she’s quite tall, broad shoulders, and muscular.” She adds, waggling her eyebrows in your direction. “Also, you can’t miss her with that shiny ass prosthetic she has.” This had caught your attention, and when asking about it your friend simply stated it wasn’t her place to say. “You can ask her about it, but I wouldn’t open the conversation with that.” She advised you. You can’t help but roll your eyes, like you would be rude and insensitive enough to ask that.

The dress you wore clung to your body, and it was hard not to feel self conscious even though no one had even spared you a second glance. You rarely dressed like this, opting for looser fitting clothes as you weren’t exactly skinny. You prayed that your date wouldn’t be so self centered to care about your physique. 

As you made your way farther into the bar, you finally caught a glimpse of someone who matched your friend's description. The light reflecting off her prosthetic gave her away, and it felt like the air had been sucked out of you. She was beautiful, definitely muscular and broad shouldered. Her nose curved downwards, face framed by dark locks pulled into a half assed bun. The most stunning thing about her though was her eyes, a steely gray that seemed to reflect light. God you were down bad for someone you haven’t even met yet.

‘Just stay calm.’ Is all you can think as you slowly make your way over to the bar. “Um…Sevika?” You asked and she turned to face you, looking down after a moment of realizing how short you were compared to her. She hasn't said anything yet, so you decided to continue talking. “I’m y/n. And I’m uh, your blind date hehe.” you can’t help but let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of your neck as your chest up to your face flushes red from embarrassment. You don’t know that Sevika thinks it’s cute.

You also don’t know that for once, Sevika feels excitement upon seeing you. She feels hopeful, already getting the vibe that you weren’t like the other women she’s talked to in the past. To her, you’re absolutely stunning, and she can’t help but rake her eyes over the curves of your hips to the swell of your tummy as the dress clings to it. It makes her absolutely feral.

Adorning a cocky smirk she straightens up to her full height, and you have to crane your neck back a bit to keep eye contact. “Pleasure to meet you,” her gravelly voice sends a wave of warmth to your core and it takes everything in you to not turn around and run out of this damn place. “Can I buy you a drink?” She asks, pulling a stool out for you.

Hopping onto the seat you shyly admit you don’t drink very often, asking her what’s good. Sevika lets out a boisterous laugh, asking if you prefer something sweet to something stronger. “Definitely sweet.” you confirm, nose wrinkling at the thought of straight liquor, and Sev can’t help but think how cute that is. 

Drinks ordered you both sit in a comfortable silence for a moment til Sevika spoke up, “I’m going to be honest,” Oh no. here it comes. The “you seem pretty great and all but you’re not really my type” speech. Sevika takes a sip of her second glass of whiskey, hoping it will give her the courage to remain confident, and honest. “I’m not very good at these kinds of things. Dating has never been my…forte. So I apologize if I make you uncomfortable in any way.”

Oh. That’s not what you expected at all. 

“Dating has never been my strong suit either…” you admit sipping on your own drink. You miss the look of shock on Sevika’s face. To her, she can’t believe that you’re even single. 

“Perhaps then this is a chance for both of us…”She states sincerely. You look at her and give her a warm smile that causes her stomach to summersault. Throughout the rest of the evening the two of you chatted about anything and everything, divulging secrets here and there. You felt comfortable with Sevika, like you had known her a long time despite it being your first time meeting her now. Eventually the two of you were kicked out as the bar had to close down.

Sevika walked you to your car, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to keep you out so late doll.” her voice is low and gravelly, and god you could scream at how fine this woman was. 

“S’kay. I don’t mind. I had a great time tonight. Could I get your number?” You felt emboldened by the several drinks you had, normally you wouldn’t ask such a thing. Swapping contact info the two of you are then left in a comfortable silence, just admiring one another. “Well, I suppose we should part ways.” You finally break the silence. With your heart pounding in your chest you take a step closer to Sevika, and she watches your every move, wondering what you’re going to do next. Standing on your tiptoes you lean in and give a gentle kiss to Sevika’s cheek, both of your faces burning. 

“Goodnight doll. I’ll see you around.” Sevika smirks despite her face flushed red as you get into your car. You can’t help but spare her one last glance before pulling away, at which she gives you a small wave. 

If Sevika was sure of anything, she had it bad for you.

[beefboyandbabygirl]

Pretend It's Someone That Came for You (18+)

pairing: coworker!wonwoo x fem!touch-starved!reader

genre: coworker au, office au, strangers to lovers, angst w a happy ending, smut (MDNI!!), fluffy fluffy fluff fluff

description: you're lonely. you're so lonely you think it might actually kill you. but when wonwoo transfers to your office, he might just change that fact.

warnings: unprotected sex (do NOT pls my babes), soft dom!wonwoo, sub!reader, v loving sex, praise (f. receiving), confession of love, riding, fingering (f. receiving), pussy rubbing tihi, pet names (pretty girl, good girl, baby, darling, etc), VERY angsty beginning, yn is truly v sad so DO NOT READ THIS if u fear it will make u sad!!, they say i love u unrealistically fast but i had to do it, yn uses sex to feel less lonely/ends up feeling more lonely, relatable yn frs, slightly dramatized symptoms of touch-starvation (?), kinda boring plot but idc bc its CUTE AF

quotes from my creative director (@joshibambi): "finally!!" (she was fed tf up), "stanley is the most stanley man ever. i hate him but i love him.", (more r coming she actually didnt have time 2 read this and i didnt want to wait with posting.)

wordcount: 10.0k

a/n: this story was supposed 2 have more angst, like it was supposed to have this whole misunderstanding, but it just didnt feel right, it made me sad, so instead this is a short n sweet love story xx

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you. 

You weren’t always like this. You remember being a sociable, joyful child; half-broken bikes and teddy bears and booster seats. You remember pigtails and popsicle sticks and Power Rangers, and what came after that? Being a moody teenager, became being a moody adult. High school became college, and college became an office job that served to keep you alive, even if it didn’t feel like being alive. College wasn’t that bad, you remember, so at what point had you mistaken isolation for privilege? And at what point had you gone too far into that tunnel-hole to turn back? 

 You must’ve been cursed, you think, putting on your outfit for work in the deadly still apartment. Dust dares not move, dares not give you hope that you are not alone. 

You must’ve been cursed, you think, coming into work to a string of half-hearted, mumbled greetings. Your office is off-white and black and gray and everyone inhabiting it is also off-white and black and gray, and their skin is faintly oily and sickly and their faces are dragging down as if the very earth was reclaiming them and you think that you fit in here better than anywhere else. 

You must’ve been cursed, you think, when you spend your day writing emails and organizing documents of information into different formats to send to huge corporations. Sometimes you fantasize about the other end of the transaction. Maybe their office is warm and brown with an accent of blue, and maybe people put hands on each other's shoulders, when they tell one another they’ve done a good job. 

Yes, there’s no other explanation, you think, and can’t even muster the energy to feel bad when you blame some old hag from your hometown. You think she must’ve conjured up the worst ingredients, something cartoonishly evil, and a spell befell you, sunk into the crevices of your skin and dug into your pores.

You lie on your couch with a glass of wine and the television going, but you’re not really listening. You don’t think anyone has touched you in six months. You’re not even sure you’re real anymore. You swear, you could live with no one hearing you out, because you’re not sure you’d have anything worthwhile to say, but you just needed someone to touch you. To reach out a hand and confirm, you’re real, you’re right underneath my fingertips, and I’m squeezing your shoulder, and I see you, and I feel you right here.

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.

Lying physically very still, you still feel like you’re scrambling, fighting the clutch of the curse, and tugging on metal chains. Maybe that’s where all your energy goes. 

What do normal people do when they feel this bad?

Sometimes you leave open the window, and when the wind tugs at your door, you pretend it’s someone that came for you. 

Tug, tug, tug. The door rattles against its hinges when the fatally empty sky brings to you, in outstretched palms, the wind interlaced with glimmers of hope. 

There’s never anyone at the door.  _____________________________

This particular day starts like any other. You wake to your alarm and you put on clothes and you get ready and brush your teeth. Then you trample down to the bus stop. The sky is smothered by a duvet of heavy rain clouds. The rain hasn't come yet, but you know it will. Your fingers become stiff and hard, where they adhere to the polyester strap of your bag, massaging it. The bag is cold and dead.

The bus ride is by far the greatest part of your day. It’s quiet - early enough that you’re only accompanied by a few other souls. You rest your head on the window, vibrating gently against the curve of your forehead, and watch the people in the street. 

 The bus hums a gentle tune and snakes down the streets. Then you’re there, and whatever solace that it offers you under artificial light and mediocre, felted seats is gone. 

Your office building is maybe the most depressing place on earth. It’s no glamorous feat of architecture. It is but a large, orange-y, puke-y, brick square, and the building is shared between yours and the Forester company. You don’t talk to the Foresters, but you know they eat cream cheese bagels on their breaks and throw birthday parties and once you saw the branch manager squeezing a salesman’s shoulder and telling him he had done a good job. His fingers squeezed down and the movement of the fabric revealed a shoulder pad built into the suit. You remember thinking it was a shame that it blocked the real touch. 

Today, you walk up the stairs with heavy steps and you idle into the office building, eyes cast down to the dirty, gray carpet. You begin the long trek into the back of the building where your desk is located.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard. 

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back. 

“Morning.”

“M-”

Wait a minute. 

Your greeting falls short. You don’t recognize that voice. Stopping in your tracks, your shoes scratch on the rough carpet, and lift your head to see him. 

The first thing you notice is that he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. He looks like he jumped out of an underwear commercial; he’s all strong jawline, sharp eyes, round glasses on his pretty nose, neatly trimmed, short dark hair stretching down the planes of his face. He’s wearing a button up (usually you wouldn’t even register the clothing your coworkers adorned, but something about how he wore it was noteworthy), a tie draping over the dress shirt, and formal slacks hugging his thighs. 

He smiles at you sheepishly, hands nervously smoothing down his thighs. 

“I’m Wonwoo” he says curtly, nodding to you. “Just transferred from the Wallingset branch.” 

You nod. “Right. Wallingset,” you nod more. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.” 

“Nice to meet you too, Y/n.” 

Something about your name on his lips makes your heart flutter. It’s pathetic, you know, but his peregrine being in his office chair, spilling your name from his pink lips makes you feel a little more real. You look at him and then you nod again-again, kicking your legs into gear again and walking the last stretch to your desk. 

You can see the back of his head from your orange-wood desk. Papers and sticky notes are scattered among the desktop. The monitor watches you accusingly, all big and square and black, waiting for you to open it up and begin working. Your eyes linger on him for a moment. Then you work. 

A few hours pass on emails and translating information from a company into a comprehensive sheet. However, today you’re having a hard time focusing on work. 

This is not new. 

Sometimes you briefly talk to a man at the grocery store, and your mind will wander to him for next week, wondering if he’s thinking about you too, imagining yourself cuddling with him, watching movies, imagining him telling you it’ll all be okay. Sometimes you briefly talk to a man on the street, sometimes it’s even a date, but whatever the case you obsess and you dream and you always end up alone. 

Today the victim of your depraved mind is Wonwoo. The guilt is easy to push away. You feel sorry for yourself. You think you deserve this. You think you can’t survive without this. And so you imagine him hugging you, stroking your hair, and you imagine him falling in love with you, and you imagine not being alone. Your fingers rest on your keyboard. It’s old and mechanical. You think it’s from a yard sale, probably an old woman whose children moved away. It’s plastic, and it curves inwards underneath the pads of your fingertips. The keys are cold and dead. 

You fully zone out, eyes blearing into the back of his head, but you don’t really see it, your mind has traveled elsewhere. You guiltily imagine his hand between your legs, on your chest, straddling him, kissing him. And it’s not rough, it’s loving, because in this world he loves you, and he’d do anything for you, and you don’t have to be alone again.

You don’t love Wonwoo. It’s not some magical love at first sight, it’s not a romance book, it’s real life. You’re lonely. You need this to survive. 

“Hey, Y/n?” 

You snap your head up. Maybe you were still daydreaming. But you recognized the voice well and true, and it was Wonwoo, leaned over your desk, hands in his pockets.

“Oh, uhm, hey-” your voice is shaky and you quickly rush to compose yourself, hands moving frantically and uselessly to glide papers over one another and, then, realizing that there was no point to your movements, stilling and looking up at him, cheeks flushed. “Hey.” 

Wonwoo smiles gently. “Uh, you know, I was wondering,” he looks around the office, as if surveying the area. “If you knew where to get a good lunch? I don’t know this area at all, so..” 

He trails off, looking at you expectantly for an answer. Now that he’s standing before you, it’s much harder to ignore the guilt you feel. You wanna gnaw at your nails until they’re nubs, you want to crawl under your desk and cover your eyes. Does he see how red your cheeks are? 

“Uhm- well- I don’t- I eat a packed lunch, so I’m-” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I’m, uh, no expert,” you giggle awkwardly and watch his gentle smile drop into pursed lips. “But! Uh- I hear the- the hot dog stand, uh, just a little down the street is good!” 

“Really? Maybe I should try it,” he contemplates, smile returning to his lips. “Would you mind showing me this mysterious hot dog stand?” 

“Uh-” 

Just seconds before you were thinking of his fingers in your pussy, and his hands caressing you, and him making you feel loved. He’s standing before you and he’s a totally normal guy, and you feel like shit. You feel like shit for using this fake image of him to comfort yourself. You can’t be around him, can’t convince yourself that maybe this’ll turn into something more - not when you always end up alone. Your brows furrow in determination.

“Actually, I have to, uh, get this done, so-” you gesture vaguely to your monitor. 

“Right! Yeah,” Wonwoo seems embarrassed, biting his lips and nodding. “It’s, uh, just down the street?” 

“Yeah, to the right when you walk out the building.” 

“For sure. Thanks,” he doesn’t even look at you then, just waves you off half-heartedly and starts trailing down the office. His shoulders are incredibly broad and his belt wraps tightly around his small waist.

You feel like shit.  _____________________________

Why is no one else cursed? 

You look out of the window, lying on your bed after work. Everything is very still and unmoving - your whole apartment feels like it’s knotted in strings, tightened until everything is snapped into place, and if you move the wrong muscles, the invisible hands will let go and everything will fly and hurdle through your home, and you can almost hear the sound, like the hard, empty sound of throwing a bowling ball and getting a strike. 

No one else is cursed. People crowd the streets with friends, family, partners, and they’re talking and laughing. You rest your head in the windowsill, a lone spectator in the window. The glass cuts you off from the streets. 

The afternoon after daydreaming the way you did about Wonwoo is always hard. Your apartment seems intent on suffocating you. Your daydreams serve as a reminder that you’re alone, that you truly have no one, and the act itself is so humiliating, you sulk into a glass of red wine and sometimes you cry. What do normal people do when they feel this bad, you wonder again, sobbing in your bed and spilling wine on your nightie. 

Nighttime falls early while you’re crying. You weep on and off, hug your knees, eat a microwave dinner and watch TV, light casting onto your pathetic form on the couch.

And in your most vulnerable state is when you most easily slip into your old habits. 

You press an old contact in your phone, one you’d tried to steer away from recently. You wipe mascara from your reddened cheeks, you wear pretty lingerie, and you lie, completely empty, void of any warmth, on your bed, awaiting.

It’s the first time he touches you in months. When his hand finds your shoulder, you shudder terribly. Sorry, he says, and he seems taken aback. Just ignore it, you plead, just ignore it. He does so, unsurely, and every time his hand grazes over your body you shudder and sob and every time he hesitates, asking if you’re okay, you cry at him to continue.

It feels good while it’s happening. Skin beneath your fingertips, hands on you, a face close to yours. You and him are the only thing moving in the apartment, synergizing on your bed, conjoining and writhing, and for just a moment, you don’t feel so alone. 

When you’re done the anonymous man stands back up, sliding on his pants in the late hour. He says it was great and you hum. But then he looks around, hesitating on every old piece of furniture, on every photo on the walls, and lastly on you.

“What?” you ask, lying naked in your bed. He grimaces at you, as if signaling that he can’t quite figure it out himself. 

“I don’t know,” he says slowly, hands on his newly-clothed hips and surveying the corners of the room, where shadows pool. “It feels haunted in here.” 

He leaves. 

When the warmth is gone, the bile rises in your throat. Old habits die hard, you think, and you feel totally empty. You couldn’t go on like this. It was nights like these you began to feel like a martyr - sacrificing yourself for a brief escape. Because when the door is closed with a click and you’re alone again, you feel yourself trembling and your heart is glowing red in the empty astral plane. Brief, easy forms of pleasure are often the most harmful.

It feels haunted in here. You remember his words, and before you finally fall asleep, you wonder one thing. You wonder if you’re already dead.  _____________________________

The next day is a pain to overcome. You’re slightly hungover, slightly sore, and very uncomfortable. But you comply with your routine, and you enjoy the bus ride, and when you get to the office everyone greets you. 

 “Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard. 

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back. 

“Morning, Y/n,” Wonwoo says. You look up from the carpet carefully, flashing him an apologetic smile. You hope he can read its intention: Sorry about being weird yesterday. You think he got it.

“Morning, Wonwoo.” 

And then you’re landing yourself at your own desk and beginning work once more. It’s boring, but today you ward off the daydreams and you focus, and you’re getting an exceptional amount done. 

The clock on the wall (off-white, but yellowing near the top) reads 12:28 when your boss, Stan, approaches your table. He’s half bald, and his suit is much too loose, and he has a ladder of wrinkles climbing his larger-than-life forehead. 

“Hey, N/n!” he calls, so loud that a couple of heads turn at the commotion. You’ve asked him several times not to call you that. 

“Stanley,” you breathe, tapping a stack of papers on your desk to neaten the pile. You wonder if you were in trouble, but if his smile is anything to go by, you’d guess not. 

“My favorite woman in accounting!” 

“Hehe,” you laugh half-heartedly. You catch the eye of Wonwoo, glancing over his shoulder with a small, teasing smile. You smile back. 

“I have a big- oh wait, wait, new guy, uhh, Jeon? Come over here real quick!” Suddenly his solid fingers waft the now scared Wonwoo over. The spectacled man’s shoulders hunch up as he moves off the chair, nodding respectfully. Wonwoo stands beside Stanley at your desk, and you focus your attention on Stanley, hoping to not get too lost in the idea of Wonwoo again - you were doing so good today. 

“I have a big job for you, and I thought you could work with Wonwoo on it,” Stan moves his hand up to cup the side of his mouth, as if telling you a big secret, “seeing as he was a bit of a star over in Wallingset.”

Shit. The guy you were daydreaming about was working with you? Wonwoo laughs, embarrassed, but you hardly have time to catch it. You can’t do this. Yesterday you were thinking about him fingering you while looking at you lovingly!

“We have a massive, new client! Just dropped a big competitor of ours, and they want us to do their six month report!” Stanley seems genuinely excited about this, so you can’t help feeling a little guilty that you’ll be a gobbering, slobbering mess, sitting beside Wonwoo on this. 

“That’s great-”

“I know! So, my two star members in accountancy, I’ll hand this off to you. The data should be coming into your emails soon,” without letting either of you react, Stanley hunches over, like a coach does before a little-league baseball game, wrapping his arms around both of you and Wonwoo. “You got this, troopers!” 

Stanley claps his hands on both of your backs, so hard you jerk forward at the movement, and then he bounces off to the elevator at the far end of the room. You sigh heavily from the interaction. It’s quiet for a moment, while you fiddle with the papers in front of you.

“What a guy,” Wonwoo muses finally, thin fingers resting on the edge of your desk. You giggle, unable to look him in the eye for fear that you might remember how you’d thought about starting a family with him. “Yeah.”

You and Wonwoo settle into an unoccupied meeting room, and it’s all very professional. Markers and post-its, trying to find the best way to structure the report, excel sheets to categorize and overlook data, double check numbers. 

However bad you think it’s going to be, you’re wrong. Wonwoo is easy to talk to - he’s quiet, but he’s intelligent, and he understands how to bring on conversation, even when you fold in on yourself like a used napkin. 

“Yeah, we used to steal signs from our neighborhood,” Wonwoo admits halfway into a conversation about your hometowns. “I don’t think that’s gonna fly anymore.” 

“Why stop now? You’re letting societal rules hold you back,” you joke, and the two of you laugh, and it’s so pathetic, you’re certain you haven’t laughed this much in years, and the conversation has lasted maybe 20 minutes. 

“Well, I could show you the craft, you know, it’s a delicate process-” 

While Wonwoo talks your phone buzzes and you absent-mindedly pick it up, reviewing the notification.

Your grin drops. Faintly, you hear Wonwoo stop talking. He tilts his head to study the way you frown at the screen. “What’s up?” he asks. 

It’s the guy from last night and he’s asking if you’ll be available again tonight. 

Maybe it’s how you could almost forget it - how you let yourself into positions that would hurt you, just to feel seen and heard and touched. Maybe it’s the dichotomy of that encounter and now, talking to Wonwoo, and having the laughter steal away the loneliness. But you’re reminded so terribly of your position. You’re reminded that this, too, will end, and that the loneliness will return. You’re reminded that once the shift ends, you’re alone again. 

Suddenly you’re a thousand daggers all pointing out. You shield yourself. 

“Uh,” you trail off, putting the phone down again. “Just some guy.” 

Wonwoo’s eyebrows raise. “Boyfriend?” 

“No!” you say quickly. “No, he’s, uh. Just some guy.” 

A pause. 

“Okay,” Wonwoo says. You don’t even remember where you left off the conversation. You bite your lip because everything is all agony. The table is cold and dead beneath your hand. 

“I’m thinking we group these together,” you say, eyes now tuned to your screen and fully submerged back into your work. Work. That was all that could cover your beaten down, cursed self. 

The rest of the shift you feel Wonwoo looking at you carefully, as if he’s trying to read you. You don’t talk about yourselves anymore, no more banter, no more witty comments. You structure the report, and try to ignore how his eyes laser you open. You don’t like it. You feel like he can tell you’re a pathetic, lonely woman and that you have nothing and no one. You feel like he can sense the curse upon you. 

This would be torture.  _____________________________

It is not torture. 

The next day, to your surprise, Wonwoo is nowhere to be seen. You wait 5, 10, then 15 minutes in the meeting room you’d camped in, before you begin working on your own. It’s slower without him, but you manage. 

You can’t help but slightly worry about him. It feels stupid. You know you’re putting too much emotion into a person you’d known for two days, but you can’t help it. You wonder if he’s gotten hurt or injured, or if maybe he hates you and has transferred back. You think even Excel finds you pathetic. 

You sit there for three hours, among the ruins of paperwork and your open laptop, running your hand through your hair and typing in sentences that mean nothing, and the wallpaper is off-white and yellowing at the top, and the blinds are closed to the meeting room. 

Around 1 PM the door to the meeting room is opened, wood smacking against the glass that surrounds it, and Wonwoo stands in the doorway, slightly out of breath. You snap your head up to him, like the jerk of a lifeless doll, suddenly interrupted from a very disorganized Excel sheet.

“Hi, shit, sorry,” he gasps, slinging his bag off of his shoulder to sit down next to you. 

“Are you okay?” you ask immediately, and Wonwoo nods blindly, pulling his laptop out of his bag. “Yeah,” he says, cheeks slightly flushed and licking his lips. “My cat- my cat needed surgery, she got sick last night, it was an emergency.” 

You nod in understanding, “it’s okay-” 

You can hardly get the words out before Wonwoo rolls his chair back, wheels resounding hollowly on the floor, so he can look at you clearly. “I’m really sorry about this, it was not nice of me to leave you alone with this.” He gestures vaguely to the scattered papers, and you shake your head.

“It’s okay, Wonwoo, I get it,” you say reassuringly, peering up at him through your lashes. “You don’t need to worry about it. You’re here now.” 

Wonwoo seems less intent on personal conversations today - it’s probably because he was so late, and now is trying to make up the time. But it’s okay, in fact you’re somewhat relieved, because it dampens the false hope that blooms in your chest, whenever he asks you about your life. 

Even if you and Wonwoo work hard and quietly, you slip into the late hours of the night in an attempt to keep on track for your schedule. Outside the windows that separate you from real life, the sky turns orange, and then dark, muted blue, and stars begin dotting its impressive stretches. People begin to leave around five, and by the time you and Wonwoo finish all your work, you’re the last ones left on your floor of the office. 

Wonwoo lets out a loud sigh when he finally finishes the second segment of your report, and the both of you slump back in your seats. 

“It’s so fucking late,” Wonwoo limply throws his hand in the direction of the window. You smile a little, looking out. Smaller buildings spawn geometrically from the ground, and every once in a while someone walks by with their dog, spotlighted by the stretch of street lamps that stand outside the parking lot. “I really am sorry about this, you know. Really ruined your night,” he says quietly. 

You shake your head. “It’s fine, I had nothing to come home to anyway.” 

There’s a pause.

Wonwoo looks at you intensely. Oh shit, you realize, was that too obvious? Was that too pathetic? Has it just clicked that you’re a loser that no one wants? You nervously look back at him, but there’s no malice in his eyes. A totally unreadable expression adorns his features, where he’s leaned back in his leather chair, legs spread invitingly. You look away, feeling dumb. 

“At least we followed our schedule!” you say. Wonwoo snorts.

“Yeah, thanks to you. If you hadn’t completed so much before I got here, it would’ve been hopeless.” 

Now it’s your turn to scoff, blushing lightly and looking at the linoleum flooring. “I don’t know about tha-” 

“Seriously, Y/n, just take the compliment,” Wonwoo reaches a hand over, and you watch its movement.

It’s like time slows down, not like the movies, no, like you can stop time with the heavy weight of your gaze, pinning his muscles in place. But you can’t, and it lands on your shoulder with a soft thud. Fuck. His hand is warm and alive on you. 

“You did so well today, I-” Wonwoo cuts himself off, because suddenly you’re trembling. 

He feels your body shuddering and jerking under his hand, like the wind rattles your door when you leave it open, and he can’t see your face behind a curtain of hair, but he hears you gasp, and, fuck, you look like you’re sobbing. 

The man from last night had become so hesitant when you reacted this way. When your body trembled and shook and when you cried, but Wonwoo seems to understand. He peers at you from above the rims of his glasses, and his hand stays put right there on your shoulder. 

“Y/n,” he whispers, so sincere it causes a pathetic squeak to escape you. What must he think of you? The thoughts spiral and you can’t control a single one of them, they dance like freed souls in your head, and you can’t stop the spasming of your muscles, and you know you look so pathetic beside him right. “Y/n, look at me.” 

You don’t. You can’t. You can’t because there are tears spilling from the rims of your eyes, and rolling down your cheeks, wet and glossy. Besides, you’re an ugly crier. 

“Look at me,” he says seriously, finger tightening on your shoulder. You try to steady your breath and calm your tears, before you obey and begin to turn your chair. The simple motion requires so much effort - it’s like the air has become so thick, that the friction against your leather seat slows you down. 

Finally you turn to him, eyes first resting on his knees, then, carefully, traveling up to his face. He’s frowning. 

Your face is reddened and your eyes are puffy, your cheeks are shiny and you chew your bottom lip in a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay. 

Wonwoo looks genuinely devastated. The hand on your shoulder softens its grasp, then begins petting your arm, rubbing up and down. The action has you choking out gasps, trembling even more in his hold, and Wonwoo feels the need to roll his chair closer to you, so his other hand can grab yours. His thumb rubs over the back of it, and he lowers his head to look at you. 

“Shh, relax, relax, Y/n,” he whispers, and you try to nod, but it’s so overwhelming; being touched, being seen, being heard, all at once. For months, maybe years, no one has touched you like this - as if they care. Now the feeling is foreign, so scorching hot on your arm and your hand, your body can’t take it anymore. You’re stuck between wanting to lean into his hands, wanting to feel how real you are, and how physically true your existence is, and wanting to shy away. What must he think of you? 

“Y/n,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut to banish the sigh of your sobbing. “When was the last time someone touched you?” 

You hiccup painfully. “Uhm- I- I don’t, ” your eyes are bleary and your lashes are wet. Your lip trembles and your whole body shakes when you try to breathe. 

Apparently this was enough of an answer for Wonwoo, because he suddenly stands, somewhat harshly tugging you into a standing position too, and pulls you directly into the harbor of his arms. 

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his torso. His chest is pressed flat against yours, so, so warm, when he nudges your head into the crook of his neck, and presses his face against its side, sighing softly into you, and breathing warm air onto your hair. His palms push you into him, soothing your trembling body, and holding you like an anker. One hand travels up to your hair. 

“W-Wonwoo, you don’t have to-”

“Shh,” he quiets you immediately, voice the softest wind of a peach tree. “Just let me take care of you.” 

You do. Wonwoo holds you until you stop crying, and though it must’ve been twenty minutes or so, it feels like no time at all. Standing in his space, breathing in his dark cologne, and letting his heat thaw your dead heart is a totally timeless act. Joy and serenity flows from the places where your bodies touch. When you stop crying, Wonwoo holds you for longer. 

Eventually, he lets you go. 

You step back sheepishly, now much calmer and the red in your face faded. You wipe your tired eyes shyly with your sleeve. 

“Thank you, Wonwoo,” you mumble, voice thick and garbled. When you look up at him, he smiles softly, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says softly, arm extending one last time to squeeze your forearm. Then it falls limp again. 

“I, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Of course.” 

When you return home, you’re buzzing. Your entire apartment buzzes along with you, things seem to clatter and beam along with the bright, glowing of your heart. You snuggle into bed and nothing is still and even when you’re drifting into sleep, your nerve endings spin in joyful circles, and your feet are a static hum. Suddenly you are very, very real. _____________________________

You’d think the next day would be tense and awkward, and maybe it is at first, but soon enough you’re talking again, more intimately than before even. 

This is Wonwoo’s doing - you know this. You know he’s smart and you know he doesn’t want you to feel bad, so he makes conversation and builds trust between the two of you. You know he hopes you don’t feel insecure. Every word he says and every flick of his eyes is riddled with it. 

The conversation decidedly slows down your progress, so Wonwoo once more suggests staying overtime. You look at him for a moment before agreeing. 

You can’t tell what his end goal is. A chamber of your heart has been revived and rebirthed, and you’re more chipper, more bouncy, but the rest of your heart insists: you’re still cursed - eventually it’ll go back to how it should be. You listen. You try not to get your hopes up that Wonwoo really cares about you. Why should he, really?

Although when you’re done for the day, about an hour after your usual 5 PM, you stand up and begin to pack your things, laptop sliding into your bag and clustering pens in your hand. It’s gray outside, but the sun comes in a single strand through a gap in the smog and the clouds. The wind hoots by the windows, and it smells like the indian you ordered for lunch together. 

You stop your packing, feeling a set of eyes in your back. You twist your head to see him.

Wonwoo is sitting completely still in his chair, slack-covered legs spread open, and he makes no move to collect his own things. He just stares. 

“What’s up?” you quip. You’re slightly nervous. Just before it was all silly childhood stories, college and weed and life before the dead-end job. Now Wonwoo has that unreadable expression on his face again. 

He slowly lifts his hands from the armrest, eyes locked with yours, and claps his palms on the tops of his thighs. 

Your eyebrows furrow. 

“Wha-” 

“Come here,” he says simply. When you stand completely still, like a deer in the headlights, Wonwoo scoffs and rolls his eyes. “What? You think you’re cured because someone hugged you once?” 

“Cured?”

“You’re touch-starved, Y/n,” Wonwoo states matter-of-factly, “you need to be touched.” 

“Touch-starved?” you echo, a bewildered expression on your face.

“We can also just hug, like yesterday,” he suggests calmly. You envy his collectedness. “I just don’t want you to feel bad. So please. Come sit.”

To emphasize, Wonwoo pats his thighs again, patiently. You step away from your bag with hesitating steps, pursing your lips. Your cheeks blaze when you look at his thighs again - they’re so long, and the folds in his slacks stretch down and centralize on his crotch and- You’re being a pervert. 

“Okay,” you squeak and Wonwoo tuts. Why is that hot, you think, why the hell is that hot?

“We can just hug if you-” 

You feel bold.

Without letting him finish, you swing your leg over his, and plop down, straddling halfway down his thighs. You thank God you put pants on this morning instead of a skirt, when you look down at where you rest on top of him. 

Wonwoo is a little taken aback, but when you’ve settled on him, his hands find your waist and he looks up at you with a hum. Your breathing is a little shaky. Once again his hands provide a pumping of golden joy into your body, and more of you comes alive and becomes real, and you smile. 

What had Wonwoo been talking about? Touch-starved?

“What’s, um-” your question is cut off with a gasp, when Wonwoo uses his hands on your middle to tug you closer. You rest on the highest point of thighs that you can without sitting on his dick. Cheeks red and eyes squeezed shut, you hear how Wonwoo hums, pleased. “What were you talking about? Touch-starved?” you whisper, keeping your eyes shut. 

Wonwoo sighs, and once more, like the movement is entirely replayed, his hand finds your hair and pushes your face into the crook of his neck. You sigh against it, enjoying how his arms protect you and hide you from the evil of the world. 

“If you don’t touch anyone,” Wonwoo begins, his voice low bass in your ear, “you become touch-starved. That’s why you reacted the way you did yesterday.” 

His hands run up and down your sides. 

“But- but I’m not crying today,” you say quietly into his neck. Wonwoo hums.

“No, that’s good,” he says. “We can stop if you really want, I just wa-”

“No!” your voice squeaks immediately, and, as if he were running from you, you fist his shirt to keep him close. 

“Okay,” there’s a smile in Wonwoo’s voice. You can’t see it but you can imagine it. 

Comfortable silence. Wonwoo traces patterns on your back and you breathe deeply against the skin of his neck. The two of you function as one living thing, the only living thing left in the office. Chairs are turned halfway, a couple lights are left on. The desks betray the past presence of humans. 

“Wonwoo,” you pip. 

“Mhm?” 

“You don’t have to do this, you know? I don’t want you to do it if you- if it’s just.. Pity.” 

Wonwoo sighs, and you feel the way his torso deflates underneath you. He trails his hand up from your back to tap your cheek. You move back and look at him. 

Your faces are very close, you can feel how your exhales collide and then scatter, hell, you think you could count each of his eyelashes from here. 

“I already told you. I’m doing this because I don’t want you to feel bad. I-” he hesitates for a moment, pursing his lips. “I’ve been there. So I know what it’s like.” 

The thought of Wonwoo feeling like this, like you, is sickening. Genuinely sickening, you feel your insides turn to rot and mold and you frown so deeply, you think your lips might forever lock in that position. 

“I’m okay now,” he reassures, reading you immediately. His hand finds your cheek and he almost cries out at the way you lean into it blindly. 

“How did you-.. I- I always thought it was, like, a lifelong curse,” you say.

“A curse?” Wonwoo grins, thumb stroking over the skin of your cheek. It makes you happy, it makes you feel like your heart will burst. 

“Yeah. I guess I just blamed some old woman from my hometown,” you giggle, blushing a little because, yes, it did sound stupid when you weren’t just echoing the theory to yourself, like playing a team sport alone. 

“You’re not cursed,” Wonwoo promises, tucking your head into his chest. “I’ll help you, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you from now on.” 

He does take care of you. 

Every day you work overtime, and every day when you’re done with work, Wonwoo slides you into his lap and holds you, while you curl up in his chest. Then you talk and you laugh, and you listen to each other's music. His hands run warm up your back and in your hair and on your hips, gentle caresses, deeply intimate. For two weeks you and Wonwoo indulge in this nighttime ritual. 

You have not felt lonely since that night. And Wonwoo can tell. Your skin is warmer and brighter, you smile wider, your eyes twinkle, and there’s energy in every movement. Your body thaws under his warm hands every night, and sometimes when you smile, he gets so happy he could kiss you. 

You realize you like Wonwoo one particular night when you’re falling asleep in your bed and you can still feel the ghost of his arms around you and it lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep, and when you wake up you smell a little bit like his cologne. That’s how you realize. You like how considerate and how gentle he is, you like how sweet he is to you, you like how he looks when he smiles and when he laughs and you like how much he loves his cat. You like how his arms feel wrapped around you. 

And you like him, and suddenly your apartment is a song that you dance in, and every photo on your walls is smiling and your bed is always warm and so is your heart. 

There’s nothing dead in here, you think, when you cook a delicious meal on the stovetop, sauce bubbling in a stainless steel pan. Nothing haunted about your home or your heart. _____________________________

“We’re almost done.” 

“Mhm.” 

“I can’t believe we’re almost done!” 

Wonwoo looks up, bemused, lips made small and pointed. You’re staring at the almost-done document, scrolling up and down through long and arduous paragraphs. It’s nighttime again - not that you had to stay late today, it was a choice - and the city glimmers brilliantly in the coolness. You and Wonwoo wear sweaters to keep warm. 

“Feels like a lifetime,” Wonwoo murmurs, same smile upon his beautiful face. His cheekbones point out from beneath his skin. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, leaning back. You won’t put your fingers back on the keyboard. Not when it could be done so soon. You look at him, all snuggled up in a brown sweater. “What if..” 

A pause. He tilts his head.

“Well, are we still gonna talk?” you chew your lip dejectedly, feeling a little sad and desperate, but Wonwoo only laughs. It’s a beautiful sound, it’s one you associate with joy. 

“Of course,” he says, as his laughter quiets down. “If you want to.” 

A shy smile forms on your lips. You turn to look back at the computer, but you hear the now-familiar sound of Wonwoo patting his thighs. You flit your eyes back to him, teasingly scolding.

“We’re not done.” 

“We don’t have to be done now,” he shrugs, an equally teasing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes, but, unsurprisingly, you shift over to him, sitting down in his lap. He immediately tugs you closer, fingers searching for stimulation on the seams of your jeans. There’s something different about Wonwoo today, you realize, his touch is more feverish, his fingers dig deeper into the fat of your hips and he looks up at you like you’re a diamond-encrusted chandelier, hanging from the ceiling, all glittering jewels. 

“What’s up?” you giggle nervously. It’s becoming hard to breathe with the way he paws at your hips. 

There’s something in the air between you, but maybe you’re imagining it. Maybe it’s your mind playing tricks on you, concocting the magnetic pull that lingers between you, the thicker, heavier air, that urges you closer. 

He sighs heavily, as if he was dreading this. All of a sudden composed, cool, icy Wonwoo is chewing his lip and avoiding your eyes, looking instead down where your fat gives way for his needy fingers. 

“I, uh, I really like you, Y/n,” his voice shakes. “Would you. Maybe. Want to go out some time?” 

At the last syllable his gaze locks on to yours, and you watch him visibly relax, because you’re fucking grinning. 

Not maliciously, not crudely, not a dime or a dab of evil, only genuine joy. 

“I-I would like that,” you control your smile, pointing your lips in the same way that Wonwoo does and blushing all over. Wonwoo grins too and it’s unbearably boyish. 

“Okay,” he says, as if he can’t believe it. “Okay. Great.” 

The window slams shut, the spell is undone by his hand, the dead defy their only law to bow to his necromancy. Wonwoo is alive and warm underneath you, and you are alive and warm on top of him, thighs pushed up against his and tugging at the fabric of his shirt. Your balloon of heart pops in your chest, and the bone-cage of your chest is filled with helium, that has you floating. Rosy and shiny, your heart beats at twice its normal speed.

There’s a lull in the conversation. It would’ve been a more comfortable silence, if you couldn’t see by how Wonwoo looks down and purses his lips, that he’s itching to say more. 

Sparked by his confession, you confidently snake your hand up to tap his cheek lazily. He turns to you with a loafy smile. “What is it?” 

He breathes out unsteadily.

“You’re-” he closes his eyes. “There’s so much I like about you. It- It makes me feel really bad that you weren’t feeling well, so I-” 

He cringes at himself, one hand pushing away his glasses to rub the eyes underneath them. 

“Can I make you feel better?” he asks vaguely. 

You huff out a laugh. “Are you trying to ask if I want to have sex?” 

He laughs too, behind his big hand. “No. It’s not the same, I want it to be about you!” 

You laugh more, and Wonwoo’s face reappears as he lowers his hand. He looks up at you adoringly, dotingly. He’s smiling.

“I’m being serious,” he says quietly, when you finish. He seems less embarrassed now, more so smug. “I want to make you feel good.” 

He’s paying an awful lot of attention to your hips, which he has not let up massaging and squeezing roughly. 

“Can I..?” he begins, eyes fixed on your hips in his lap. “Can I make you cum?” 

Then, slowly, Wonwoo lifts his hands and gently places them around on your face. His touch is always as soft as a hope-laced wind. He’s warm and he’s alive and he’s holding onto you, and you see it in his eyes: you’re real, you’re right underneath my fingertips. 

“Please.”

That’s all he needs, before he presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is everything you want it to be; because it’s loving. It’s slow, it’s deep, it’s gentle, there’s no tongue, just the soft, warm, real, alive flows of his lips against your own. His hands on both of your cheeks caress your cheekbones gently, and warm air is spilled in the small space between you. He pulls away, panting. 

“I don’t understand it,” he mumbles, before he’s pressing his lips back to yours hungrily. You let out a confused hum, and you have to gently push at his shoulder to back him off again. “What do you mean?” you ask.

“Why you were so alone,” he breathes, transfixed on your lips. “I want to be with you all the time.” 

Before you can respond, Wonwoo grips the underside of your thighs, lifting you and himself from the chair and placing you on the desk. You gasp at the impact when the glass table meets your bottom, and Wonwoo is standing over you, suddenly so tall and so broad, and slimming at the waist. His narrow eyes become hooded behind the reflection of his glasses. His head is tilted down to meet yours.

“Can I take off your clothes, pretty?” 

You don’t answer, only grip the edge of your shirt, tugging it over your head, so your bra-clad chest is exposed to him. He groans at the sight. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, nimble fingers dancing across your back to unclip the bra, sucking in a harsh breath the fabric becomes loose, sliding down your arms. “Such a pretty girl.” 

“Stop,” you whisper, face warm and red. Your heart has never beat this way. It’s utterly unbearable and addicting at the same time, it’s without rhythm or class, it’s wild. And it’s because he’s looking at you and it’s not just lust. It’s adoration. There are deeper strings to the make-up of his eyes, there are lines connected to his heart, and he’s all flushed.

“What?” he asks. “I’m just telling you the truth.” 

Wonwoo throws your bra on the floor next to him, hands finding the hem of your pants. “Can I take your pants off?” 

You nod, still so shy and abashed, because Wonwoo’s eyes feel like a pink spotlight, and you are bathed in its warmth. He unbuttons your pants and you gently slide off the table to work them off your legs. 

“Your panties are cute,” Wonwoo remarks (it should feel lewd, but he has a hand on your hip, that brushes the bone and he smiles at it). “Thank you,” you breathe, before you’re taking them off too.

Wonwoo doesn’t need to, but he still insists on gently lifting you back onto the table, and he kisses your nose when you’re sitting before him. He’s standing in between your legs, and then he’s looking down at where wetness drips onto the glass table. 

His hand slides down your stomach, resting on the fat of it. He’s smiling, he’s so gorgeous, because he’s smiling the most gentle smile at how wet you are and how it leaks onto the table and his hand is so warm on your stomach, doing nothing, yet turning you on even more than you’d ever been before.

He sighs like he’s carrying the greatest burden on his broad back. “You’re so pretty,” he says, almost exasperated by it. He pinches some of the fat of your stomach between his fingers lovingly. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.” 

Then the hand on your stomach slides down further. His large, veiny hand cups your pussy, the tips of his fingers just barely teasing your hole. You whimper against him, hands finding his biceps for support. Wonwoo studies you, craning his neck down to peer at your face, while his fingers begin swaddling your folds. 

“You’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles, trying to catch your eye where you bury into his chest. One finger dips into your hole, penetrating slowly and settling knuckle-deep. 

“Wonnie!” you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Mmm, clenching down on Wonnie’s finger so hard. My beautiful girl.” 

He begins pushing his finger in and out of you, pace slow and torturous. His other hand slides up and down your body, squeezing your waist then your thigh, then coming right back up to fondle your chest. He pushes your back flat against the glass, so you’re all splayed out for him and you watch him from there, eyes hooded and legs spread to accommodate him. He breathes in shakily at the sight of you. 

“Shit, Y/n. What were you doing hiding all this from me?” His finger picks up the pace, as another finger slips in alongside it. You’re moaning and panting, lips red and hair mussed, unable to focus on his words, when his fingers curl against that spongy spot inside you. Apparently Wonwoo expects an answer though, because he speaks again, voice lower and rougher. “Hm? You didn’t want to go have lunch? What, was it that guy?”

“W-What?” 

“Just some guy,” Wonwoo echoes your past words, emphasizing with a harsh thrust of his fingers. 

“N-No, I- Hng!” you cry out, when Wonwoo’s thumb presses onto your clit. He rubs it torturously. “I-I was embarrassed because I- I was thinking about you!” 

“Oh?” this catches Wonwoo’s attention, as he diligently works his hand within you, staring down at your naked form, fully clothed and tall. “Tell me what you were thinking about, baby.” 

“This!” you cry out, too high off the pleasure to really feel embarrassed about it.

“Pretty, sweet, dumb baby. You were thinking about you whimpering and writhing while I fuck you with my hand, hm?”

“N-No,” you mumble, cheeks aflame. “W-Was thinking about you l-liking me.” 

At this Wonwoo hastily leans over you, pressing his lips onto yours again, and this time his tongue pries open your mouth, wet and warm in the cavern of your mouth. You moan into the kiss, hips canting into his hand. There’s something so desperate about him then, something so eager in the way he crooks his fingers, and how he kisses you, panting and covering your face in warm air. You feel a tight knot in your stomach.

“Cum on my fingers, please, pretty, sweet, baby, darling,” he mumbles into your mouth, rushing out the words before he’s sealing your lips again. 

“God, I think I might fall in love with you.” 

That makes you cum. You cum so fucking hard, clenching around his fingers like an air-tight seal, and your cum spills onto his fingers and his name spills into his mouth. The curse comes out with it, escaping like the air that spills out from an ancient, rediscovered chamber, and dissipating into the night. Your heart is beating and you’re breathing into his mouth, nose brushing his. 

“Good girl,” he breathes, finally releasing your lips and letting his lips fall heavy and wet on your cheek. 

He pulls out his fingers, unbearably wet and slick, and you think for a second that he’ll let you calm down and then maybe he’ll put his dick in you, but as soon as the fingers are out of you, they’re settling back on to your clit, rubbing heavy-handed circles.

You whine, arching your back off the table and wiggling your hips at the overstimulation. His other hand catches your hip and he shushes your cries softly. 

“You can cum again, can’t you, baby? You can take it,” he says, so nonchalantly, while his slick fingers rub you. You cry out. Your legs are shaking. “Think you can cum again from just this?”

“Y-Yes,” you sigh and when you look down, his entire hand covers your pussy, as he pets your clit in circles. He smiles at your words, pinching your clit teasingly. It causes a squeak to escape you, hips struggling against his hold, where he pins you to the table.

“Good girl,” he praises, purring. “Letting me use your pretty pussy like this, letting me make you feel good.” 

His body in front of you prevents your legs from closing, but, God, do they try, knees pinching his thin waist, and hair bunching up on the glass when your face scrunches up in pleasure. 

“A-a-ah!” you cry out. Your hips involuntarily begin to inch away from him, but Wonwoo pulls you back with one strong hand, tutting. 

“Don’t do that,” he mutters, pouting. “You need to be touched, remember?” 

The whole thing is so heart-achingly intimate. The way he stands, still fully clothed and with a huge fucking tent in his pants, simply rubbing your pussy and looking at you with heart-eyes. Seriously, eyes swimming with adoration for you, teasing words slipping from his mouth unable to mask the genuine wonder he feels, at how you gasp and you arch and you clean and you jerk from the simplest of his movements. And your pussy is so warm and wet under his hand, and his body between your legs is so warm, and you cum again from just that; from how much love he looks at you with, and from the fingers crooking to pinch your clit again, wet and swollen underneath his glistening fingertips. 

“W-Wonwoo!” you cry out, cumming again, and your body convulses around his, when it oozes out of your hole. Wonwoo’s fingers gently work you through it. His gaze on you is so intent, so careful and insistent, you can’t bear it, the way he sees you totally lost in the pleasure he brings you. 

“There you go,” he whispers gently, fingers letting up and disappearing from your pulsating pussy. 

“Wonwoo,” you mewl tiredly, pushing yourself onto your elbows to look up at him. He looks at you, so sweetly, so attentively, hands immediately finding your back to stabilize you. “Can I please have your cock now?” 

“We don’t have to-” 

“I want to!” you interrupt him, brows furrowed and lips in a pout. Wonwoo grins at that and though he may deny it, you don’t miss the red that twinges his cheeks. 

“It’s just if you were too tired..-” 

“I’m not,” you say decidedly, and Wonwoo nods. 

“Okay. C’mere then.” 

You’re confused when Wonwoo sits back down in the office chair, fingers working his slacks open. He doesn’t answer to your grimace though, only manages his pants unzipped and in one lift of his hips, peel both them and his boxers down. 

His cock springs free, and your confused grimace is replaced with one of awe. It’s pale and veiny, the head is red and thin, white liquid oozes from it, like melted candle wax. And it’s huge.

You’re too slow to mask your amazement, it seems, because when your eyes return to his face, he’s already looking at you, smiling smugly. 

“Come ride me, baby.” 

You don’t need to be told twice. You slide off the table eagerly, lumbering over to where he’s relaxed against the back of the chair. He looks up at you, all naked and pretty, with a grin. 

The top buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned, but he must’ve given up halfway. Either way, the milky plates of his chest are exposed, shining gloriously in the warm office light, and he discards his glasses, face fully exposed to you. He’s beautiful, and you think to tell him.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, planting each leg around his, so you’re straddling him. Like your ritual, Wonwoo grips your middle and pulls you closer, but this time it’s even closer than normal. Your stomach meets his dick, all heavy and hot on your skin, and your breath hitches at the sensation. 

“You’re beautiful,” he teases, looking up at you. You smile. 

“Can I put it in?” you ask. 

“As if the answer was ever gonna be no?” 

You snort out a laugh, raising yourself by your thighs and gripping the base of his dick to steer him inside. He hisses at the feeling of your hand grappling with his impressive size, and he hisses once more when the head of his cock buries into your heat. 

His hands on your waist anchor himself while you slowly sink down, until he’s so fully sheathed in you, you think the tip of his cock must be brushing your heart, because it feels like it’s swinging in your chest. 

“You’re so big,” you whimper, clutching his broad shoulders, and scrunching the fabric on top of them. 

“Don’t say shit like that, I’m gonna cum, babe,” he grits out, fingers bruising your waist. You mewl, clutching his shirt. Then you begin to bounce. 

Your thighs flex on either side of him as you heave up and down his cock, the both of you gasping into each other, and clutching each other for stability. 

“Shit,” he pants out, genuinely out of breath. “Fuck, you’re the loveliest girl in the world.”

You cry out, pressure already welling in your stomach and burying yourself in his neck like you’ve always done, and it’s so intimate and he’s warm, and, fuck, he wants you. You can feel it in his grip, in his cock, in his words; he wants you more than anything. The thought makes you wanna cum. 

Wonwoo is not quiet at all. He grunts and whines and his words are strangled and garbled, but frequent, showering you in affection and praise, while you bounce eagerly on his huge cock. 

“You’re so pretty, baby.” 

“Your tits are so perfect, shit.”

“Pretty girl.” 

“Loveliest, prettiest, sweetest girl, bouncing on my cock, fuck.”

Praises spill from his lips in purrs, one after another, and when you cum you can’t help but return it tenfold. 

“Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonnie, fuck! Gonna- fucking cum, I think I’m- f-falling in love with you”

You and Wonwoo come alive. Cum spurts from his cock and into your pussy, and you both cry out, entangled and completing one another in the space where you meet. 

And it’s true, falling in love with him is so easy. And falling in love with you is easy too, you realize, because the second he’s spilled his cum in you, he pulls you from his neck to kiss you so deeply, so thoroughly, you think your lips might never unpuff from his hasty, bitten kisses. 

His cock, now soft, still inside you, his warm chest against yours, his nose nudging yours, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin, the kiss is totally perfect, and you’re warm, and the windows are all closed and fogged up and there’s no curse other than the most fatal and most perfectly tantalizing of them all: love. 

You are not alone. You’re sitting in his lap and you think if you give it a day or two more, you might want to spend the rest of your life with him. 

You catch your breaths. 

“You’re really good at that,” you say finally. He grins again, perfectly undone, hair tousled and cheeks flushed. “Yeah?” he asks. You hum. 

After some minutes of keeping him inside you, kissing lazily, running your hands over his pretty chest and arms, you pull back, beginning to flex your legs to pull him out of you. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, hands wafting to still your movements. You furrow your brows, confused. 

“Am getting your dick out of me?” 

His hands sink down on your hips heavily, fully encompassing his dick again. You sigh at the feeling. 

“Don’t do that, silly. You’re touch-starved, remember?” 

He tilts his head teasingly. 

“So why don’t you just sit snug on my cock, so you can get all the closeness you need?”

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 1: lost pet, meet cute

Masterlist flufftober ���

Reblog if you liked it!

When Spencer entered his apartment, he was unpleasantly surprised by the mess he found. There was trash strewn across the floor, as if someone had kicked over the garbage can he kept next to the bookshelf. There were some clothes scattered on the floor and also sheets of paper with obvious bite marks, as if someone had chewed on them.

It was ridiculous to think that this was the work of a thief since the valuables were still in their place and there were no signs of forced entry; the window was still ajar, just as he had left it that morning.

Spencer moved cautiously through the apartment, assessing the possibility that this was due to some rodent. The building had hired an exterminator just a month ago, and he feared that the company hadn’t done a good job. He continued to wander, somewhat frustrated at the thought of having to deal with such a problem, and that was when he heard a noise coming from his bedroom, as if something had fallen to the floor.

The man walked in that direction and was even more surprised to see a lump moving beneath the sheets. If what was there was a rat, he swore to God he would buy another mattress if necessary, as he didn’t want to expose himself to the collection of germs that those animals harbored. Fearful, he set his briefcase down beside the bed to approach and discover what it was.

He was taken aback to see that what was writhing peacefully in his sheets was a long, beige little animal instead of the gray furball he had expected.

“A ferret?” he spoke to himself, immediately identifying what kind of mammal it was.

Spencer extended his hand and confirmed that it was a friendly specimen, as it climbed up to his hand to sniff him, making him laugh. While he held it in both hands and petted it, he wondered how it had managed to get into his apartment. He thought it plausible that another kind of intruder might have appeared, but ferrets were hardly common on the streets of DC, let alone sneaking into apartments.

Could it belong to a neighbor? he also thought, considering the possibility that in the morning, when he closed the door, the stowaway had slipped in.

In any case, the best option was to keep it safe until someone showed up to claim it, or, in the worst case, to ask Penelope for help in posting it on social media so that the owner could be found. He just hoped it would be sooner rather than later, as he didn’t feel capable of taking care of an animal of that kind if it proved to be as disastrous as it had shown.

The ferret was docile with him, as Spencer was able to carry it to the living room to keep a closer watch while he prepared to review the papers of a pending case. The little animal ran back and forth, climbed onto the couch, and even used one of his dirty socks as a ball to play.

He had never had pets that required so much attention because it broke his heart to know he couldn’t give them a happy life, knowing that cases sometimes kept him away for weeks in another state and it would feel extremely lonely.

For a long time, while he read here and there, he reflected on his guest. It was a pet that could be considered exotic, and he hadn’t seen one in a long time; the last time he remembered was during a visit to the zoo many years ago that wasn’t worth counting. Its color was, as he had already noticed, beige with brown: the stereotypical image of a ferret. During that reflection, he wondered what the name of the little furry creature running around his apartment was and, above all, to whom it belonged.

Fortunately, the answer didn’t take long to arrive at his door, presenting itself with three soft knocks and the image of a girl soaked in tears through the peephole.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, sir,” he heard, in a sob. It was a young girl, just a few years younger than Spencer, and looked completely desperate. “But I… uh… I’m your upstairs neighbor, and I was wondering if you happen to have seen a ferret around the buildi—Gwin!” you suddenly shouted, which was met with another shout from inside.

The mustelid immediately ran toward you, recognizing its owner, and then you bent down to grab it, happiness reflected all over your face as you showered the pet with kisses.

“Stupid little brat! Here you were. I nearly died when I didn’t see you. I don’t want you to leave the house again, or I’m going to take you to a shelter where you’ll get fleas.”

“In fact, it’s more likely that your ferret would catch fleas from coming into contact with wild animals like hedgehogs; they’re uncommon hosts if they live indoors.”

It was then that you finally noticed the man in front of you: that messy golden hair, his awkward posture, an incomplete formal suit, and a calm smile on his face. He avoided looking at you, perhaps due to nervousness from being unfamiliar with the person in front of him, and you wondered how old he was.

You had been so mesmerized by him that you didn’t realize how uncomfortable the silence had become.

“I’m Spencer, by the way,” he cleared his throat, noticing your lack of response. He thought that the random curious tidbit he had shared might have frightened you, but you smiled widely to reassure him.

“Oh, how rude of me,” you exclaimed, embarrassed. You then told him your name. “I was so excited to have found Gwin that I forgot about courtesy.”

“Is he your pet, I assume?”

“He’s a mischievous little rascal; I was terrified thinking he had escaped. I… left the window open and he went out through the fire escape. I guess that’s how he got to your apartment.”

“Oh! Yes, that’s most likely. I also forgot to close my window.”

“It’s a blessing, otherwise he would have run all over the stairs, and I don’t know where the hell he would be right now,” you expressed sadly, continuing to pamper the animal in your arms. “I’m sorry for the trouble, Mr. Spencer.”

“Just call me Spencer; otherwise, I feel old,” he complained, half-smiling. “You can’t be more than one or two years younger than me.”

“I’m in college; I just moved because I need more space,” you replied, trying to justify yourself. “Are you in college?”

“No, I work in a government agency. I was very young when I graduated”

“Are you some kind of child prodigy?”

Spencer laughed at her question.

“Something like that.”

The two of you looked at each other for a moment, smiling, trying to remember all the possible characteristics of the strange presence. It was a somewhat hypnotic moment, to a certain extent, interrupted by the pet squirming in your hands trying to climb onto your shoulder.

“I think I should go. I promise to take better care of my love; he won’t cause any more trouble.”

“It was no trouble at all. He’s very cute, in fact.”

“He’s my best friend in the world; he has kept me company since I started college, haven’t you?” you exclaimed cheerfully, kissing the animal again, who squeaked contentedly. “I always wanted pets, but I could never have them; I’m allergic to fur.”

“And ferrets are hypoallergenic animals, right?” he hastily said, wanting to impress you with this. Although, of course, you already knew that.

“What a clever man,” you replied playfully, perhaps even a bit flirtatiously. You had a pair of eyes, and your neighbor was very handsome. “Gwin, thank this good person for taking care of you.”

You brought the animal closer to him, and as if the ferret really understood, it rubbed against his cheek, causing him to laugh.

“It’s good to know you found him,” was all he replied.

You hesitated for a moment, teetering on your toes, and then let Gwin climb onto your shoulder as he usually did.

“I guess we’ll see each other around, Spencer. Goodnight, and thanks again.”

He waved goodbye with a smile on his sealed lips, and then you started down the hall.

You hoped to run into that man again, and who knows, maybe every once in a while you’d let the ferret loose to have an excuse.

[toxicanonymity]

night walks (original)

2k | pothead neighbor!Joel x f!reader

joel miller masterlist | night walks masterlist

He shrugs and leans in.  You don't lean away.  He takes your chin in his hand and your mouth opens for him, emptying your lungs before you can tell your body no.  He gets less than an inch from your lips and exhales into your mouth as you inhale deeply, accepting his breath. 

Summary: Joel, an older neighbor you've been walking with late at night, asks you into his basement to sell him weed but has other intentions.

content warnings: I8+ nsfw, drugs, dubcon, unsafe PIV sex, dirty talk, light imprisonment, creepy pothead joel, age gap (unspecified), possible dosing, no outbreak, Joel is untrustworthy.

(a/n): felt like writing some sex and taking a new Joel for a spin.

You're living in your Aunt's basement in a conservative suburban neighborhood while you work a dead-end job.  You keep to yourself and don't know anyone in the neighborhood. You take a walk late at night.  Not uncommon for you.  Normally, no one is out, so you light up a joint as you round the corner into a dark cul-de-sac. 

"That smells good," a gruff, disembodied voice says.

You startle and look around.  "It's cool, I'm cool " he says, and your eyes land on him in the shadows.  It's Joel Miller sitting out on the porch in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. "Sorry I scared you.  I'm no snitch," he adds.  "Have a good night." 

He comes out almost every night from then on and starts to make small talk.  One night he comes down from the porch in PJ pants and a tight t-shirt, stretched by his biceps, and asks if he can walk a lap with you.  You're like, whatever.  This is when you start to notice how hot he is, having barely seen him in the shadows. The PJ pants are a little too flattering on his ass and you can also see the ample size of his package. His beard glistens with bits of gray and silver.

In the darkest corner of the neighborhood one night, he says "hey" and his hand brushes the back of your hip. You turn and look into his eyes and his face darkens. He wets his lips and your heart races. He asks, "Mind if I hit that?"

You pass it to him and there's a spark when your fingers touch.  The intimacy of his mouth on your joint makes you blush.  His brow furrows as he takes a drag and maintains eye contact.  Something in his gaze gives you butterflies between the legs.

He shares bits and pieces about himself. Sounds like he's having some kind of a midlife crisis. His wife cheated. He's moved into the basement and made a man cave.   He starts crossing your mind during the day.  What's his deal, why is he talking to you? Are you friends now?  You're not sure if he's lonely or a creep.

One night, he sheepishly approaches you about buying some weed.  He wants you to bring it to his man cave so you can show him the stuff and remind him how to roll a joint and all. 

-

He lets you in the side door. When he holds the door open, you get a whiff of his sweat.  He's listening to Pink Floyd.  His tight shirt is blotched in perspiration and his muscles are pumped up.  

He asks, "Mind if I finish this set?"  

"Sure." 

It's burning up inside and you're in joggers and a hoodie. You sit down on the couch and try not to watch. You look around the room at his TV, the bar.  Your eyes drift to the bench where he's on his back, his shirt riding up exposing his happy trail, his package pressing up into his joggers.  

"Don't be shy. You can watch," he says without looking over. 

He's definitely a creep.  He counts down from 5 then racks the bar and sits up.  He looks you up and down.  You put your thin metal case on a tray that's sitting on the ottoman in front of you.  

He goes and locks the door where you came in - the bolt and the slider.

"Drink?" He asks, and walks behind the bar.  "Gotta tell me what you want or you get an IPA." 

"I'm good."

He brings you an IPA.  

He uses his shirt to wipe his brow.  He sits down right next to you, with plenty of other space on the couch,  and stretches his arm out behind you.  He catches you glancing toward the locked door. 

"Too late now, pumpkin." He adjusts himself.  "Come on, loosen up." He hands you the beer and you take a sip.  

"Good girl."  He looks you up and down again. 

-

You put the beer down on the tray and lean forward, elbows  on your knees.  "Alright, so. . ." 

His massive hand rubs your back slowly and it feels a little too good for comfort.  You try to ignore it.  

You open the weed case and get out the baggie and rolling papers. "You're gonna take-"

"Yeah, I know how to do it,”  he smirks. He tucks some cash in your case – a little too much – and closes it.  

Then he pulls out his own case from under the couch.  He puts the weed you gave him in there and pulls out his own stash.  You open your mouth but aren't sure what to say. 

"You gotta hit this. Really, try it," he says.   

You watch him roll the most perfect joint in the world.  

You call him out.  "Why'd you act like such a noob?" 

"How else was I gonna get you in here, hm?”  

Your cheeks burn. 

“Now we're all set to do what we want." A self-satisfied smile creeps across his face. "I won't tell, you won't tell. . . "  He winks at you and his eyes sparkle.

You tense. "I won't tell what?"

He brazenly eye-fucks you.  "What are you gonna say, you came over to sell me weed? C’mon.” 

He strokes your hair.  You're a little sick to your stomach.  You get another whiff of his sweat and curse your body for responding favorably.  

"Where's your wife?"

"Hell if I know," he shrugs.  His hungry eyes don't leave you alone.  

"Damn, you're hot," he blurts out.  It's exactly what you were trying not to think about him, but shit, he is.  

-

He puts the joint in his mouth and lights up, then his arm returns behind you.  His thumb  strokes the nape of your neck and you don't move away.  Not to be intimidated, you turn slightly toward him.  He inhales, holds in the breath, then offers you the joint.  

You hold up your hand and refuse the joint.

He shrugs and leans in.  You don't lean away.  He takes your chin in his hand and your mouth opens for him, emptying your lungs,  before you can tell your body no.  He gets less than an inch from your lips and exhales into your mouth as you inhale deeply, accepting his breath. 

"Atta girl," he says, followed by a small cough into his fist.  

You exhale the smoke slowly, then take a deep breath of clean air and exhale again.  

His large, veiny hand rubs your thigh and you sit in silence for a moment.

He says, "Good shit, right?" 

It's amazing.  "Did you just dose me?" 

He laughs. "Shotgunnin's a hell of a way to dose someone. Nah it's just about findin' the right strain, pumpkin" 

Whatever it is - the weed, the beer, his sweat, his body, the glimmer in his eyes. . . Whatever it is has you hot all over and tingling between the legs. You fidget with the zipper of your hoodie.

He puts his hand over yours and tugs the zipper, his hand dangerously close to your tits. "Let's take that off," he says. You take it off, leaving a tank top and no bra, and fold it up at the arm of the couch.  Part of you is unsure why you're settling in.  The lower part of you knows exactly why.  

His thick knuckles stroke the tattoo on your shoulder

His voice is a low rumble, through nearly-gritted teeth when he says, "found myself a bad girl."

He takes another puff, then sets the joint on an ashtray.   He holds in the breath, takes your cheeks in his hands, his sad eyes searching your face hornily. You empty your lungs again.  He seals his mouth with yours, sending a rush of blood to your loins. You accept the breath, sucking it out of his mouth, then close your mouth and turn away to exhale as your nipples harden.  His face stays and hovers close to yours. 

-

When you finish exhaling, you turn back and meet his gaze.  His eyelids are heavy with lust. He looks at your lips, cradles the back of your head, and smashes his mouth into yours.  His mustache tickles. His tongue invades your mouth and makes you throb. You back up a little and his body pushes yours down on your back, your head landing softly on your hoodie.  His legs wedge between yours.  

His clothed arousal presses right between your legs and his large hand maps your body as he buries his face in your neck.  "Lets see how bad you can be," he growls into your ear before taking a gentle bite of your neck, then sucking hard.  His hard-on swells even larger and harder against you and your hips automatically roll into him.  Your legs wrap loosely around him all on their own.  God, he's big.

You don’t know what’s come over you, but you’re dripping wet.  It’s like a magnetic, masculine energy is radiating out of his pores, penetrating you.  Locked in a basement with this total creep and you’re dizzy with desire.  

He slides his arm under your neck and kisses you forcefully as he gropes your breasts and grinds into you. Then he shoves his hand down into your pants where you aren't wearing underwear.  His thick fingers part your folds and glide against your slick.  You hate yourself for it, but you've never been more turned on, and it shows. 

When he feels how wet you are, he says “I’ll be damned.  You want it that bad.” 

He tugs down your joggers urgently, backing up on his knees to pull them and your shoes all the way off.  Then he frees his cock and strokes himself, wetting his lips. Chest rising and falling as he eyes your naked cunt.  Fuck, he has a nice cock.

He hovers over you again and one of your legs wraps loosely around him.  Your back arches in anticipation.  Your clit throbs.  He breathes heavily and his cock prods your entrance.  You moan softly.  He teases you with the tip.  Your body aches to be filled.  

“All yours, baby, every inch.”  His low voice obliterates anything that was left of your will to resist. 

He pushes his swollen tip inside, and the stretch pushes a moan out of you.

“Yeah, go on.  Take this cock.” He pushes further.  

He grunts, "God, you're tight. C'mon now, you can do it.”  Your hips tilt to receive more of him and he plunges the rest of his length into you with a loud grunt and shudder.  His neck vein bulges and his eyes close. You gasp as he fills you up and you twitch around him.  

“Yeah,” he pants, rocking into your clit while he's all the way inside. “Attagirl.”  You already feel something building deep within you.

He retreats then plunges into you again with a grunt.  The vein on his neck bulges more and his biceps flex as he hovers over you, fucking you slowly, then faster.  “Yeah, that’s my bad girl.”  Fuck, he feels good.  Tension coils rapidly in your core.  

He wraps a strong arm around you, lifts you up against him, and his cock stays inside you as he sits back on the couch so you’re in his lap straddling him.  He expertly works your clit and his massive hands on your asscheeks move you on his cock as his hips move under you.  

“God damn, you’re hot,” he says again as you roll your hips into him.  “Yeah, ride this cock,” he says, thrusting up into you as his massive hands rove your body.  He forcefully pulls down your tank top and sucks your tit, moaning into it.  Your thighs tremble.  

“Yeah, c’mon,” he says. “Come on this cock.”  

The next time he bottoms out, your clit grinding into his pubic bone, softened by his hair — you do.  Pleasure blooms from your clit, pulsing, washing over you, and your walls clench around him, wringing a guttural groan from his lungs. 

His cock pulses enormously and your whole body jerks into him as your climax continues.  He thrusts a few more times. Slow but emphatic, pulling you down on his cock as his balls empty inside you.  You stay on top of him as your climax wanes.  

-

Shit, that was dumb, you realize.  But it felt really fucking good.  

“Reckon I won’t need to lock ya in next time, huh?” he asks, stroking your hair.  You swerve his hand, get dressed, and leave. 

But the next night, you still find yourself walking by his house.  

“Any time you wanna come,” he says.  “You’re welcome."

Short Deleted Scene

-

Thank you for reading!!! your interaction is always appreciated too! 💐 this is a one shot but I'm having thots so you never know, LMK if you like him. I can kinda see him as a breeder, maybe.

Continuation by popular demand: night walks 2

[s4toruz]

third of december - drabble

just imagine...

you and your boyfriend, satoru started dating exactly one year ago

now you're walking around the same streets and neighborhoods like last year when he confessed

it's not as cold now, you two are simply walking around without coats; you in a t-shirt and him in a dark gray sweater

the sun is already starting to set, your date is over, but he'll spend the night at your place anyways

you are thinking about all the amazing moments you two had, not only this one year, but eversince you got to know eachother

he was there when you were laughing, and he also stayed when you cried

giving you cute little things that reminded him of you, saying you got it as a reward for smiling so much so prettily

but also showing up at your door – in the middle of the night if that was necessary – with your favourite chocolate and cd's whenever he sensed that something was wrong or you were just feeling a little lonely

he snapped you out of your thoughts by shaking your shoulder like an excited child

"look, it's snowing!!"

you could feel the temperature getting colder with each second so you needed to find an activity to warm you up

the next thing you know is that you stand on the middle of the empty road with a snowball in your hand, grinning from eat to ear

"hey toru!" you say and as he turns around 'cluelessly', you throw the snowball at him

he knows what you're planning but let's the snowball hit him anyways, now having a reason for a whole snow-war

to the way home, you spend the entire time running from him, hiding behind cars, waiting for him in turns

he is acting like a complete child, but next to him you're no better either

satoru is not letting you win, the fight only stops when you surrender by waving a white handkerchief, raising your hands

he throws a last snowball at you anyways, earning a smack on the head in return

"i surrendered!!" you pout which he simply replies with a smirk "i know, you were an easy target!"

both of your clothes are cold and wet now, you feel like you're freezing in place if you stop walking

satoru notices you eyeing his sweater and crosses his arms stubbornly.

"don't look at me like that, i'm cold too!"

he says while you narrow your eyes, knowing that you'll win anyways.

"it's the third of december."

you declare.

"and?"

"you're supposed to give me your sweater!"

"no way!"

just seconds later, he is helping you put on the dark sweater, ruffling your hair afterwards

the vibes are similar to last year's, with a small change. back then you thought that you were the luckiest person in the whole world, now you know it

and he knows it too

the walk back to your place is calm, but definetly not quiet

you are walking hand in hand, your head leaning on satoru's shoulder as he continues to speak about whatever comes to his mind, also reminding you how much he loves you in almost every minute

his sweater is staring to warm you up a bit, you can also smell his calming scent on it, filling your mind

after you get home and get changed into dry clothes, he makes some tea while you are clinging to him, your arms wrapped around his waist as you rest your head against his back

you cuddle on the couch with the hot drink in your hands, watching a random romcom as he plays with your hair

"you know i love you, right?"

he'd stop and look at your face constantly, getting a kind chuckle from you.

"you don't have to ask me every two minutes, you know! and i love you too."

you smile. he simply rolls his eyes with a childish pout and begins to braid your hair.

he speaks again a few moments later.

"but you know it! right-"

"satoru!"

"fine."

he huffs, pulling you closer to him.

as the romcom episode ends and you'd get up, you can feel that his arms stay snaked around you. when you turn back, you're met with a sleeping satoru, his eyes closed peacefully, his hair is in his face. you can't hold back your smile, kissing his cheek carefully not to wake him up.

"you know, i love you too."

you mumble, drifting to sleep.

© s4toruz 2024 , do not copy , modify or translate my work

i looked at the calendar today and i was like: it's the third of december and i don't write anything??? we can't have that🗣

comments are appreciated!!

m.list || navigation

[satorusugurugurl]

i love ur work sosososisoso much <33 thank y for sharing ur writing ahh!!! could i request a satosugu fic where toru gets punished by sugu and reader??! maybe for like.. getting off alone or flirting w someone else?

Summary: You and Geto went to a local bookstore, leaving Gojo to fend for himself at home. It’s not like the two of you didn’t invite your boyfriend to join you on your outing. But shopping for books, of all things, didn’t spark his interest. But as the boredom of being alone settles in his bones, he decides to do the only thing that sounds remotely fun. Beating his meat.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x FAB!Reader x Geto Suguru

Word Count: 2,876

Warning: Masturbation, cursing, oral sex, degrading, edging, smut, creampies, holy

A/N: Anon thank you so so much for the sweet words! I'm glad you're enjoying my stories! ❤️❤️❤️🥹This gave me brain worms and I just had to write it! Two of my weaknesses are SatoSugu x Reader and masturbation.

Lazy Sunday Afternoon

”Are you positive you don’t want to come with us?” Suguru questioned, cocking an eyebrow at his white-haired boyfriend. “We were thinking about stopping for lunch after.”

”Nah.” Satoru is leaning against the wall, watching as you tie your tennis shoes. “The idea of a crowded bookstore makes my skin crawl. Plus, that's you guys’ thing. Books and reading.” He shrugged his shoulders lazily.

You hooked your arm through Suguru’s, leaning your head against his upper arm. “Okay, do you want us to bring you anything home?”

”Nope, have a good time. I’ll see you when you get back.” He waved his partners off with a smile before heading back to the living room to enjoy his Sunday afternoon.

The first hour was fun, trashy reality television, and the cupcakes you had made the previous day. Thirty minutes later, he groaned, flipping through Netflix to try to find something, anything to watch. Two hours into being alone, all by himself, Satoru groaned as he started to regret his decision to stay behind.

The apartment was so quiet and lonely with you or Suguru there. The room wasn’t as bright and full of the life it usually radiated. Jeez, was this what his life had been like before the three of you had gotten together two years ago? He was so used to going on dates, cooking food, and just existing in each other's presence now. What had he used to do in his tiny dorm when he was alone?

He would eat take-out, play on his phone, and jerk off to porn videos on Twitter.

Satoru sat up straight, a grin slowly tugging at his mouth. Yeah, he used to jerk off constantly. Since you three got together, he didn’t need to please himself. Seeing as either you were sucking him off, or Suguru was giving him a handy in the shower. It was like heaven, being able to experience pleasure with the two of you.

But thinking about wrapping his hand around his cock, going at his own pace, had him throbbing with excitement. You and Suguru wouldn’t be back for a bit. When you two shopped for books, you shopped—going down each aisle, flipping through pages, geeking out over your favorite series. He had plenty of time to jerk off and recover in case things got heated once his two partners returned home.

Leaning back onto the couch, Satoru turned the television to some random movie on Netflix. Mostly for background noise, and if you two were to come home in the middle of his solo session, this might cover him until he could readjust himself. With his eyes on the screen, Satoru slowly began rubbing his cock through his gray sweatpants. Up and down, just warming himself up.

Gojo was surprised that he was as hard as he was already. Was it the excitement of possibly getting caught or just that he hadn’t pleased himself in so long? Whatever the case, maybe he could care less. All that he could focus on with the warmth that was beginning to settle in his groin as he pushed his sweats down to his upper thigh to free his cock.

It was so hard, standing at attention with a slight twitch. “Oooh fuck.” Satoru pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Fuck, I’m so hard.” He spit into his hand before wrapping his bare palm around his shaft.

His hand slowly began moving up and down, coating his length with spit. He squeezed himself harder with each stroke. He was imagining it as you or Suguru’s hand. Both are so warm but different. Suguru’s hand was larger, more calloused. Y/N’s hand was smaller, more delicate, and her manicured nails always looked o pretty around his cock. The faster he moved his hand, the more the television sounded like white noise as his mind swam around his two partners.

Satoru found himself mimicking the movements you and Suguru would do. He gripped himself tight, like Suguru, stroking fast and hard. When he reached his tip, his pointer finger would tease his slit that beaded thick droplets of pe-cum, as your smaller hand would do so gracefully. Imagining his two partners worshiping his cock, was better jerk-off material than any porn video.

“Mmm, ooh fuck me.” Satoru’s hand squeezed his thick length hard, his hand moving faster. “That’s it, Y/N, just like that, Sugu.” Looking at his cock through his lashes, he gritted his teeth. His tip was leaking pre-cum, his balls were tightening as he felt himself getting closer and closer to cumming. “I’m so fucking close, so close, don’t stop.”

Grabbing his shirt, he placed the hem of it between his teeth. The last thing he wanted was to get cum all over it. Having a new shirt on when you two got back would be hard to explain, seeing as he stayed home alone. It would be much better to paint his stomach. It would be easier to clean up that way.

“Nnngh, fuck.” Satoru’s muffled moans grew louder, his cock twitching harder under each stroke of his hand. “Fuck yes, fuck yes.” The familiar burning coil in his abdomen tightened, and he never heard the door unlock. “Fuck, gonna cum—“ And tightened as his partners called his names. “Gonna cum, gonna cum!” And tightened before it snapped as Y/N and Suguru walked into the living room. “Cumming fuck! Fuck!”

Satoru jerked his wrist frantically. Ropes of hot cum coat his hand, stomach, and chest. His pace finally began to slow as his cock started to soften in his hand, his white seed shining under the sunlight flooding the room. Fuck, he didn’t realize how much he missed jerking off. Especially since he had the two hottest people starring in his dirty mind.

In the afterglow, Satoru lazily looked towards the end table in search of a tissue. To his horror, he found the two of you watching him. Your jaw dropped, cheeks flushed, as Suguru ran a hand over his mouth, dark eyes glued to the cum on his stomach. The three of you basked in the silence before Satoru quickly wiped at his cum.

“W-Welcome home!” He shouted, doing everything he could to avoid eye contact with either of you. “I didn’t hear you guys come in.”

Suguru chuckled darkly, his eyes narrowing. “Yeah? Maybe that’s because we were too busy listening to you cumming.” All attempts to finish cleaning himself came to a halt at Suguru’s words.

”I well, I gu—“

”There’s no denying it, Toru.” You joined in; faux sadness etched onto your features. “We caught you red-handed.” Your pout was adorable as you looked up at Suguru. “This is why he didn’t want to come with us Sugu.”

“Mhmm,” Suguru gently stroked your Y/H/C, “and to think we felt so bad for not including him. We stood in line for forty minutes at the cafe to get him the chocolate cake they're famous for.” Gojo swallowed as you lifted a bag with the cafe's name to emphasize Suguru’s words.

Slowly getting up on noodle legs from his orgasm, Satoru started walking towards you both. “It wasn’t like that. I just got bored. It’s not like I plotted to stay here to jerk off without the two of you.” The annoyance on both of your faces made him cringe. “I appreciate you guys thinking of me!” His hands reached for the bag, only for you to yank it away. “Oh, come on!” Satoru Gojo pouted, his eyes darting between you and Suguru.

“Huh, funny you did cum, on yourself.” Suguru barked out a laugh at your words. “And you didn’t even let me lick it off. I think that’s what hurt the most.”

”Y/N has a point, Satoru. You cleaned it all off right in front of her.” Suguru took the bag from you and placed it on the breakfast bar. “You know how much she loves our cum. My poor Princess.” You sniffled as Suguru pulled you tight against his side. ”Satoru has been a very bad boy, hasn’t he Y/N?”

”He has.”

Gojo ran both his hands through his hair with a sigh. “I’m sorry, guys. Is there any way that I can make it up to you?” Instant regret settled over him like cold rain. Both you and Suguru’s eyes darkened as sinister smirks tugged at your mouths. “Oh, oh fuck, please wait, have mercy.” He held both hands up, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop you from pouncing on him like a spider monkey.

Hours later, the automatic timer on the living room light came on. Illuminating the lewd scene in front of Satoru. You were facing him. Your back firmly pressed against Suguru’s chest as you rocked back and forth on his cock. Suguru’s hair was falling out of its bun, dark strands sticking out here and there, clinging to his skin. His lips were against the crook of your neck, biting and sucking at your skin. His actions made you whimper softly as you rode him faster.

Satoru wanted to join in, to get onto the floor and drag his tongue up Sugurus length, all the way to your clit. He hated being in the recliner across from you, his hand jerking at his cock. Fuck, you guys didn’t even let him get completely naked. He still had his sweats on and spit-damp shirt clenched between his teeth. He understood this was a punishment for jerking off and getting caught. He had to watch you two, and he'd already cum three times. But this was getting to be just cruel at this point. He wanted to join in!

Instead, you watched him, smirking at the flush dusting his cheeks and neck. The tears that formed in his oh-so-pretty blue eyes, and the way he fisted his cock to another orgasm. Arching your back, you gasped, Suguru’s tip hitting your G-spot as he bit your shoulder. Your arm reached over your head, fingers fisting in his hair. The sight of you getting closer to the edge made Satoru want to join in even more. If he could just get his lips around your clit, he knew you would squirt all over his face.

”Guys, pwease!” The cloth muffled Satoru’s words in his mouth. “I wanna help!”

You chuckled in between soft moans. “Sugu~nngh oh shit,” You watched as Suguru reached a hand around your waist, palming your thigh. “He wants to help~!” You laughed breathlessly as Suguru hummed, his voice vibrating against your sensitive skin

”Satoru,” your white-haired boyfriend perked up, “you wanted to jerk off so bad when we were gone. So you’re going to keep jerking off until we say otherwise. Dirty man whores don’t get rewarded.” Suguru’s hand, which Satoru wished was around his cock, slowly slid up to your clit. “Good fuckin’ sluts, like our sweet Y/N here, they get what they ask for.” You whined, your hand tugging at his hair. “Mmm fuck, baby tell me what my good girl wants~ yeah, be a good example to Satoru?”

”I wanna cum Sugu.” You whimpered, turning your head to face him.

He grinned, pressing a heated kiss to your lips. “You wanna cum?” You nodded your head, kissing him harder. “Go ahead, sweet girl, cum for me, Y/N.” His fingers rubbed circles around your cock. “That’s it; I feel you clenching cum on. Let it out, princess.” His gaze darted down, watching as you squirted hard.

“No, no, no,” Satoru whined like a spoiled brat. “I wanted to taste her cum!”

You were trembling, still coming down from your orgasm. Once you could form words, you tilted your head to the side. “See why we were so disappointed in you?” Suguru slowed his pace, his still-hard cock gently sliding into you. “I wanted to clean you up, but you used a tissue. I think I’ll clean up my mess the same way slut.” Suguru groaned, his cock twitching at your dirty fucking words.

“No! Please don’t. I’ll clean it up!”

”Oh, will you?”

”Yes.”

”And how will you clean up Y/N‘s cum Satoru?” Suguru asked as you slowly began rocking back and forth on his cock.

The two of you watched as your partner stood, his cum coated chest and stomach heaving as he looked to the floor. There was a dark, needy look in his eyes, one a person would only see in a feral animal. You didn’t know what to expect. For him to grab tissues to clean it, like he had done to himself. Him dropping to his knees was something you nor Suguru had anticipated. With bated breath, you watched Satoru slowly slide onto his stomach, his eyes on yours as he stuck his tongue out.

“Holy fuckin’ shit.” Suguru’s cock throbbed harder inside of you as he watched Satoru lick and suck at your cum off the floor. Like some kind of desperate animal. Never once did he break eye contact. His tongue and lips kept moving, cleaning Y/N's essence off the floor in the most vulgar way. “T-That, fuck, Y/N wh—“

“Such a good boy.” You finished for Suguru. Your tight cunt twitched at the sight. “Cleaning up my cum like the horny dog you are.”

Satoru sat on his knees. If he had a tail, it would be wagging at your praises. “Yeah? I did good. Am I forgiven? Do I get to join in now? Please!” He watched Suguru’s face scrunch up as Y/N bounced faster and harder onto his cock.

”Hmm, Suguru, what do you think?” You asked, feeling another orgasm coming close as Suguru's hands gripped your hips, thrusting up into you.

”Let that dirty slut help. I wanna watch him lick your clit like he just did to the floor.”

Before you could change your mind, Satoru leaped into action. He was positioning himself between both of your legs. His tongue immediately went to work, sucking and lapping at your clit like a madman. The sudden added friction had you rocking faster, trying to feel more of his mouth on your sensitive sex. While Geto slammed up into you, chasing his release while driving you to your own.

Watching you both with lust-filled eyes, Satoru started jerking his cock once more. Fat and hard tugged as he took your clit in between his lips, suckling the bud as hard as he possibly could. That was all you needed to send you tumbling over the edge. You screamed so loud you were sure the neighbors would file a noise complaint against you again. Not that you cared as you felt Suguru’s chest heave as he buried his cock inside of you as he filled you to the brim with cum.

Thank fuck Suguru had been right against your g-spot. Because Satoru was bleed to have you squirt in his face. The sweet, tangy taste of you flooded his mouth. He sucked at your lips, tasting both your sweetness and Suguru’s slightly salty bitterness. Like a well-crafted treat just for him. The taste of you both combined had his hand stroking his dick, desperate to cum for the fourth time that day.

In the afterglow, Suguru grunted, kicking Satoru’s thigh with his foot. “Idiot, don’t forget what we just told you.” His best friend slowly smirked as you stuck your tongue out in between pants. “Don’t waste your cum.”

Not needing to be told twice, Satoru jumped to his feet, stroking his cock in front of your face. Only his hand was swatted away, replaced with Suguru’s. The sudden change of hand and pace had Satoru whimpering like the horny fucking dog he was.

“That’s it, Satoru,” Suguru purred, stroking faster, “cum on her face like a good boy.”

That sent your white-haired boyfriend right over the edge. Tears ran down his cheeks as he watched his load, which would most likely be his last for today, spurt over your tongue, chin, and the tip of your nose. You looked so pretty, cock drunk, glazed in his cum. It had him crying out in pained pleasure.

When the last waves of his orgasm faded, Satoru stumbled. Both you and Geto grabbed his arms, slowly easing him to rest on the couch next to the two of you. He gasped, his eyes shut, in post-orgasm bliss. You couldn’t help but smile, gently stroking his hair. Suguru kept himself inside of you, kissing your neck lovingly and putting the footrest up. You and your boyfriend relaxed in the silence until Satoru’s soft snores could be heard.

It's a perfect way for you to end a wonderful Sunday.

[ninibeingdelulu]

Lemon cake ✧

Plot: You’re his cute little wife, happily waiting for him to come home.

The rumbling roar of his motorcycle growling up the driveway had your face instantly lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning.

Toji was finally home after being gone for that extended undercover op - the first real solo mission he'd taken since you both decided to get married six months ago.

You barely had a chance to set down the mixing bowl cradled against your apron-covered belly before the front door was banging open to admit your husband's hulking, sweat-slick frame stomping across the threshold in a cloud of gunpowder and grime.

"Toji!" Came your gleeful squeal of delight as you scrambled towards those outstretched arms opening to envelop your petite figure against his heaving chest at last.

Nothing could've prepared you for just how fiercely those steel bands would clutch you close once they encircled your waist, though.

As if he'd been withering away without your warmth to cling to while facing down whatever fresh hells the past weeks had dragged him through beyond those city limits.

"Missed you so damn much, baby..." came the deep, guttural rasp muffled into the crown of your soft tresses while his battle-roughened palms roamed up and down your arched spine in long, soothing sweeps.

Like a man dying of thirst finally gulping down the most deliriously refreshing oasis.

Even the woodsy cologne teasing your senses beneath all those lingering metallic and cordite odors couldn't disguise just how eager he was to soak up your delicate floral fragrance again.

Taking heady lungfuls directly from the sensitive curve where your shoulder met your throat as he swayed you both lightly while cradling you so reverently against that granite-sculpted torso.

"I can tell..." you giggled out through beaming cheeks squished against that solid wall of muscle.

Making a show of pinching your nose shut and leaning back with a dramatized look of disgust to take in his weathered, disheveled appearance head-to-toe.

"You’re stinking, mister! What was this mission you went on - crawling through a septic tank?"

That deep timbre rumbled out past his smirking lips while one large palm cupped the back of your tousled crown to guide you forward again for a lingering brush against your forehead.

Tender as a whisper of gratitude for welcoming him back to your shared sanctuary after facing the ugliness of the world beyond too long...too lonely without your healing glow to guide him home once more.

"Let me rinse off this filth then we can snuggle back up on the couch and I'll tell you all about it, doll..."

Punctuating the promise with a gratuitous squeeze over your trim waist to savor that tiny, soft frame of yours safe in his crushing embrace once more.

"...Right after I take a sniff of whatever mouthwatering treat you got baking back there."

Squirming out of his covetous clutches with a dismissive roll of your eyes, you swatted his bicep before padding back over to the industrial oven's open portal just as the rich citrus zest began wafting forth on a fresh wave of heat pouring into the kitchen.

"Lemon cake - your favorite."

You sent him a cheeky smirk over one bare shoulder as the first molten golden peaks came spilling out.

"Figured you'd be too strung-out from your solo run to want a full spread waiting. So I made sure to have dessert ready for when you finally dragged that ass of yours back here again."

The grin bisecting those ruggedly chiseled features was positively rapacious now. Gray irises already devouring every succulent curve of your flushed, glistening silhouette framed within the oven's honeyed glow while he shed his combat boots to recline back onto the plush leather sofa.

"Less yappin', more strippin', Pipsqueak...then bring that sweet peach right over so we can kill two birds with one load of cream filling together."

With a derisive albeit thoroughly entertained scoff tossed over your shoulder, you bit back the indulgent smile tugging at your mouth before reaching up to unfasten your apron strings one-handed.

Just like that, that infuriatingly cocky beast was back on the prowl - chasing your suddenly racing pulse with each molten syllable leaking out past those sensuous lips already glistening with promise.

As if he'd only been lying in wait to pounce on that tantalizing opportunity to make up for all your nights spent far too cold and lonely without him crowding his overwhelming presence back where it belonged.

Maybe there wouldn't be any 'snuggling' for the next few hours after all...just another brand of delicious perspiration dripping between your tangled bodies throughout this indulgent reunion instead.

But what you agreed on, is that you weren’t approaching this man until he took a very long shower.

[toovaeloe]

Pickles

One night he brings home a stray cat to your apartment, but it seems to love him more than you ☁️🐈☁️

pairing: Choso Kamo x gn!reader

no warnings, fluff, established relationship, modern au

word count: around 1.5k? (I’m pretty sure)

You knew your boyfriend to be an animal lover.

Although he’s mentioned on a few occasions that you two should get a pet, he’s always been hesitant about it. Choso insisted he didn’t want it to get lonely while the two of you were away from home. But that didn’t stop him from doting over puppies or birds in the windows of pet stores. Which was adorable, by the way.

Despite this idea, he didn’t stick to it for very long. One night you were lounging on the couch, mourning a character from a show you had put on as “background noise” while cleaning (only to end up getting completely distracted and off task) when you heard the lock twisting in the door. You sat up when you saw Choso, sopping wet and his unique pigtail hairstyle all mussed and soggily dripping from the rain, home a decent time later from work than you expected.

Though before you could ask him where he had been, you noticed he was cradling some sort of lump in his zip-up hoodie.

“…You pregnant?” You uttered dumbly the first thought that came to mind, “…Is it mine?”

“I- No. Dummy,” Choso’s brows furrowed for a moment at your strange dumbass query, before he further unzipped to reveal a mangy wet ball of tabby gray fur nestled against his shirt. “I found him by the road, all rained on n’ shit.”

He waited for your reaction to ask the million dollar question, first adoring the way you cooed and drew closer to pet the feline. “We can keep him, right?”

How could you have said no?

And so from then on you had your own perfect little family of three.

Or you would have.

If family member number three didn’t hate your guts with all of his ping-pong ball sized heart.

You felt like you did everything to get this cat— now deemed Pickles— to like you.

Quality time,

Treats,

Expensive toys,

Cat nip.

Nothing seemed to make Pickles warm up to you. He would hiss at you when you neared him, claw at you when you tried to feed him— he even pissed on your laundry once. And maybe worst of all, whenever you tried to join Choso in the living room or in bed when Pickles happened to be curled on his chest, he’d growl and bristled until you were banished to the far corner of the room. He had taken over your boyfriend.

“You have to choose: him or me!” You declared, sulking with a pointed finger at Pickles in one of your more melodramatic competitions for your boyfriend’s attention with the tabby. That of which Choso couldn’t help but be amused by, a stifled smirk nearly curling at his lips as he gently shooed away the feline in favor of beckoning you over to wrap up in his embrace, to shower you in affection until the creases of your scowl were no longer hard-set on your features.

“You don’t mean that,” He’d soothe with a hand cradling the back of your head against his chest.

“He hates me.” You’d huff, bottom lip jutted out and tugged into a frown. Choso’s thumb continued to rub soothing patterns against your shoulder despite the way his eyes went skyward.

“He’s a cat.”

“He hates me,” You’d insist.

“He can’t even recognize his own reflection. He’s not even smart enough to hate you, y/n.”

Despite your petty disputes with the damned furball, you still loved him. And you wanted him to love you, too. Choso could see that, could see your efforts, and it hurt his heart to see you so discouraged.

Which is why when you and Pickles finally came to a some sort of truce, he was ecstatic.

And even more so the evenings when you came bounding into the apartment after work, ambushing him in the kitchen where he was preparing dinner.

“Look at this!” You’d beam, holding up one of Pickle’s mouse toys, shoving it in his face with enthusiasm that made his brow quirk up and his teeth flash in a bemused smile before he realized.

“He did it again, huh?” Choso chuckled.

A few weeks ago, Pickles had put one of his toys in your shoe and you hadn't noticed until after you had made it to work. The first time it happened and you discovered it, your eyes were practically brimming with tears and your heart soaring. The damned thing finally liked you. And Pickles showed it in the most wonky, heartwarming way.

You had been all smiles that day.

That's why Choso thought it should happen again.

And again.

Aaand again.

So for the past few weeks, he’s been planting Pickle’s cat toys in your shoes every few mornings before you got up to leave. Truly it was Pickles’ doing the very first time, but he just couldn’t get enough of the way your face lit up. And although he hates lying, Choso makes an exception every now and then, here or there. He’s done similar things for Yuji, after all, just to get his little brother to crack an extra smile or two through their childhood. To this day Yuji probably still thinks that the sweet pea he planted in the backyard after dinner at the age of 5 grew into a bunch of green grapes. (Choso went out to the store later that night and “planted” the clusters of grapes atop the dirt for the little stinker to find when he woke up.)

Another morning goes by; nearly the crack of dawn when Choso untangles himself from your limbs and the sheets, silently venturing out to the foyer by the front door where you kept your shoes for the next day.

Ironically enough, you wouldn’t even have caught him if it weren’t for Pickles leaping up onto you in your sleep, paws trampling you until you were uncomfortable enough to wake.

“Pickles,” You muttered under your breath like a curse as you shifted against groggy, but not enough to not notice your beloved gone from bed, something within you convincing you to drag yourself out of bed and search for him.

You had flipped on the main light in the doorway of the open layout of your shared apartment just as Choso had bent over your shoe with the tail of a mouse toy pinched between his fingers. As the illumination bathed the room he went rigid— and you could almost see the nervous sweat drop when his head slowly turned to where you stood in the hall.

“Oh,”

He’d clear his throat, as if he could salvage being caught in the act and play it off. “You’re up early, darling.”

“…Choso?” You muttered, still disoriented from sleep. Your eyes squinted from across the space lit by fluorescent lights, drowsy cognition slowly putting the pieces together of what you were looking at.

“…what’re you doing?” You asked with a healthy dose of suspicion coating your tone.

He remained frozen for a moment, the cat toy still pinched between his fingers. He looked a bit like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“I’mmuuuh…morning stretches,” He supplied hastily; bowing into a human-parabola until his ebony tresses were nearly brushing the floor. Some odd approximation of a sideways backbend as if that made his story any more plausible.

Honestly, it’s a miracle he’s kept this secret from you so long. He’s a horrible liar.

The earnest confusion painted across your sleep-dazed face made him sigh, resigning himself to honesty…maybe.

“Okay…Pickles told me he wanted me to—“

“Don’t bullshit me, I’m not five.”

“—I might’ve been putting Pickles’ toys in your shoes. For the past few weeks,” He’d confess sheepishly, “you were just so happy when he started warming up to you, I wanted to see a few more of those smiles.”

His eyes darted away for a second and then back to you in the silence that followed, and away again- trying to gauge your reaction, as if he feared to be suddenly struck by some divine punishment for having lied to you.

You couldn’t even be mad; the ridiculous adorableness of the situation made you snort as you walked up and bent down to sit where he was still bent that absurd pose. His lips were just parting to form an apology as your fingers moved to dance across his ribs until he squawked and flailed into a pile of doofus on your apartment’s floor.

“I can’t believe you sometimes,” Your annoyance is more mock than sincere. You couldn’t muster much more than a scoff, and the curve of a smile on your lips couldn’t be flattened no matter how hard you’d try to bite it back. “for real waking up at this hour just to put cat toys in my shoes? I can’t take you seriously.”

“Harsh,” The ravennette man muttered under his breath like an overgrown brat as he propped himself up to sit beside you with his elbows resting against his knees. “See if I do anything nice for you ever again.”

“I’m joking,” You retorted, emphasizing with a poke to his shoulder.

“So am I,” he’d echo, his pout morphing into a puckish grin as he tipped sideways to lean against you.

“And I love youuu~” Your sing-song declaration is obscured by a still drowsy yawn as your head falls against his arm. Not an ounce of daylight permeates your shared living space, and it’s telling that it won’t be long before your two sleepy-headed selves stumbled back to bed.

“I love youuu toooo,” A more baritone parallel of your melody is parroted back as he lowered his head to rest atop yours, muffled by the contagious yawn that has his eyes squinting closed.

Neither of you even noticed Pickles’ presence until he announced his arrival with a meow. A fuzzy white mouse toy is dropped at the tabby’s paws before he padded closer to nuzzle against your leg, whiskers brushing your skin like a butterfly kiss, like his very own feline “I love you,” as Choso says.

a/n: i got a flu shot today and my entire arm is sore 😭

I hope this turned out well i am half asleep writing about being sleepy 💀🫶🏽

i hope both sides of your pillow are cold 🤍

[jen-with-a-pen]

Two's Company

pairings: Older!Coworker!Logan x Younger!Coworker!Reader

warnings: obligatory MDNI, written on my phone, everyone's an adult and 21+, no smut, open ended, use your imagination, secret relationship/crush vibes, alcohol (wine), sexual tension, again use your imagination

credit: images from Pinterest | divider by @firefly-graphics

a/n: wrote this while thinking about my own work DILF crush instead of finishing the three other WIPs I have. Thank the writer's block. Don't know word count. I need put down. Enjoy💕

Just thinking about him makes your heart race. The butterflies start kicking up a storm in your stomach with their beating wings, twisting and tying you in knots that feel impossible to pick apart.

The mere mention– the mere thought– of his name is enough to send you spiraling, chest thrumming with palpitations. He's not even in the goddamn room with you and you're already sweating. Hands clammy, knees weak, face filling with a red-hot heat that you can't fan away.

You bite back a grin thinking of the way his lips spread into a smile when you make him laugh, the crooked tilt of a knowing smirk when you impress him with something he didn't think you had up your sleeve.

It's been years, but that one song you had on repeat as a teen plays like a broken record in the back of your mind; the lyrics, reminiscent of how the gray in his hair shines like silver, the blue in the pills he probably takes, the gray clouds of smoke from his cigars.

You didn't understand then, but it's crystal fucking clear now.

And when you think you're over it– over him– you're at home, alone on the couch, nursing on a glass of wine while watching the trashiest of all TV shows a streaming service can offer, when an image of his face pops into your head. Unprompted. Unasked for. Like some crude joke.

But you... you don't mind. Not entirely, if you're honest.

You saw the way he looked at you on Tuesday as you walked out of the meeting, his eyes burning into your swaying hips underneath that tight pencil skirt. Or how, on Thursday, when you took your lunch break, he took the time to stop and compliment you on the sweets you brought in the entire time it took for you to reheat Wednesday night's leftovers. Even followed you back to your office asking what makes you– under the more appropriate guise of your baking– so, so sweet?

A stolen glance, a brush of fingers, subtle praise and the million-watt smile of his makes way to the forefront of your mind. The faded tanline of a wedding band on his ring finger sits on the sidelines, a sore but needed reminder, nonetheless. Teeth to your lip, eyes scrunching shut while your eardrums echo with the phantom sound of his voice. The honeyed timbre. His inflections and musings. What was it he said to you a couple of weeks ago after the project meeting? In that sinfully low octave meant for you and you alone?

"If you're ever lonely, I'm just a phonecall away, sweetheart."

The guilt and shame can take a backseat. You'll deal with them some other time.

You set down the wine glass– not even half-empty– and pick up the phone.

thanks for the patience while I get around to finish my other WIPs 💕 reblogs and comments are always welcome

[stellasdrafts]

Planting Roots - James Kelly

Summary: you meet your new neighbour… or rather, he catches you staring. (James Kelly x Reader)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: mild suggestive dialogue, age gap briefly mentioned (reader is in their early 20s, James is in his early 30s), kinda ditzy reader, female reader, no use of Y/N, fun banterrrr.

Notes: in this house, we <3 hayden christensen.

You were so excited to finally have your own place. You worked your ass off throughout high school and college to save up for a nest egg. You survived roommates from hell and even worse dining hall food. The second you got your degree, you decided to leave everything behind and get the hell out of Dodge. That’s how you now find yourself in New Orleans. The house you bought is humble and in a rather shitty neighborhood. But hey, at least you aren’t in your hometown. You surprisingly don’t mind the sketchy neighborhood all that much. Sure, you’ll have to invest in some pepper spray and maybe a crappy security camera system, but at least the space is your own. It’s not like you really plan on socializing with your neighbors, anyway.

So you dragged in your own furniture – all procured locally. You didn’t exactly have the room to pack up your entire life in your car. You dragged the dusty couch you found on the side of the road up the porch steps. You heard scraping, though if that was the underside cloth ripping, the stubby legs getting scratched, or the inevitably termite-infested deck wood falling apart, you weren’t sure. You broke a sweat in the sweltering New Orleans summer moving thrifted tables and chairs and not that many boxes (still too many for your lone liking). All this while feeling some eyes on you. You’re sure you seem like some kind of crazy. Who moves houses entirely by themselves? Whatever, this is a clean slate. Who cares what they think of you? Here, you can be whoever you want to be, no matter how unserious and antisocial. The house isn’t… maximalist, but decoration is a luxury that will come with time. You have your essentials, and that’s what counts. So you get used to the vicious-sounding dogs barking in the middle of the night, hearing couples argue through not-well-insulated walls, and the weird smell lingering outside. After all, this place is your own.

You’re breaking apart boxes on your porch when you hear the loud ruckus of your next-door neighbor yanking open his front and storm doors. He leans against the front of his house and fishes a pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of his oil and grime-stained gray coveralls. You’ve caught glimpses of him around before – mostly during his much too-frequent smoke breaks, and sometimes if you happened to be up when he left for work. Other than that, he keeps to himself. You assume he’s a mechanic from his usual attire and the beat-up old car he likes to tinker with in his driveway.

You’d be lying if you said he isn’t a bit attractive. A lot attractive, actually. Part of you feels a little guilty. He looks to be older than you – maybe around his early to mid-thirties. It’s not age that really bothers you, you’ve shamelessly been attracted to older celebrities before… There’s just something more humbling when it’s a tangible, real-life person whose house happens to be eight feet away from your own. From what you’ve gathered during your little ogling sessions through your windows, he’s tall, with short dark brown hair and a few tattoos. One of which is an intricate design cascading down his right arm and hand, though you’ve never been close enough to quite make it out. It’s that right hand that now flicks on his damaged lighter in a way so natural that you assume he’s done it thousands of times before. For some reason, you’re mesmerized by the way he moves. Now that you get to see him from a bit closer, he truly is fucking h-

“Can I help you?” his voice breaks you out of your trance. He speaks with the cigarette dangling from his pink lips. Shit. Those stormy blue eyes are locked on you as he blows out a puff of smoke, awaiting your response.

Fuck it. Fresh start. You decide to lean into getting caught staring by laying it on thick. It’s not like you usually cross him outside anyway. “I could think of a few ways.”

The handsome stranger’s brows shoot up, surprised by your bold response. A smirk plays at his lips, his left hand in his coveralls’ front pocket. He pulls the cig from his lips between two long, tatted fingers. “Care to list them?”

Oh god, he’s actually going along with this. You did not plan ahead. You feel warmth rise to your cheeks. “No, no. I don’t do harassment.”

“And staring at me isn’t?” He tilts his head and takes another puff.

You can’t help but smile. So the man’s got a sense of humor… “Oh no, that’s just people watching.”

“People watching, huh?” Small whirls of smoke escape him as he speaks. “And what’ve you gathered?” He exhales.

It’s your turn to smirk and tilt your head. You move up closer to the railing of yours facing the side of his house. “You’re on track to contract lung cancer by age forty.”

He chuckles and raises the cancer stick to his lips again, utterly unfazed. “Oh really?” He takes his time to exhale, looking straight into your eyes for all of it. “What other genius observations have you made?”

You hum and purse your lips, deciding on what other information to reveal that won’t seem too much like a stalker. “You live alone… And I’m pretty sure you’re a mechanic.”

He smirks again. “Not bad. You a Sherlock Holmes wannabe or somethin’?”

“Only if you’ll be my John Watson.” You grin.

He chuckles, a small, genuinely amused smile tugging at his lips. He looks you up and down, and it seems like you’ve brushed off on him because he doesn’t bother hiding it before looking back up to your face. “Guess that makes you the smarter one. That’s kinda hot, Sherlock.”

You pretend to be exaggeratedly flattered because, in reality, your heart is pounding out of your chest right now. “Awe, you think?”

“I do.” He walks up to lean on his railing – which, by the way, looks like it’s about to tumble over. “You’re very attractive, you know that?”

You mirror his actions and lean on your own railing. “And what makes you say that?”

He smirks, seeing right through you. “I don’t think you really know what to do with yourself when someone’s givin’ you the attention that you give them.”

Oh, damn. You blow out air. “Well, shit. We were being playful until you went real on me.”

“Ah. I hit the nail right on the head, huh?” He laughs softly.

You laugh as well. “I swear, I’m not a slut or anything. The only reason I opened with a borderline creepy line was because I thought you’d ignore me. I figured I’d at least have some fun out of it.”

The hot neighbour just smirks. “So I’ve noticed.” He takes another slow drag of smoke. “You thought I was gonna ignore a pretty girl in short shorts on her porch?”

So that’s how he’s going to play it… Truth be told, you hadn’t even given much thought to your clothes- some risky denim shorts and a cute little baby tee. You suppose you should now that you live somewhere where the houses are so tight together.  “Ohhh, so you’re the slut out of the two of us-” you feign realization.

“Oh really?” He snickers and looks down, his gaze lingering on your little shorts for a moment. “That’s a bold accusation, Sherlock.”

“You’re not denying it, Watson.”

“Mm. Guess I’m not.” He smiles smugly and flicks some ashes off the cigarette before his eyes wander back up to meet yours again.

The sight makes your ego swell a bit. “Who’s staring now?” you tease.

His smile turns into a wolfish grin. He shifts his weight against the railing, making a point of maintaining eye contact. “Ah. So we’re even.”

“I guess so.” You laugh and offer a genuine smile, truly amused by this man.

His smirk fades for a moment as he notices the authenticity of your beam. It catches him a bit off guard – the way it lights up your face. “Hey, Sherlock?”

“Hmm?”

“Your smile is cute as hell, you know that?”

You try to suppress the joy that fills your chest from the simple compliment. You can’t explain the hold this stranger has on you. “Thanks, Watson.”

“You should smile more.” He leans up straight again as the soft smirk returns to his face.

You smirk right back. “Are you saying that in a creepy guy at the grocery store kinda way or a genuine way?”

“It’s a ‘you look nice and I’m trying to compliment you’ kind of way.” He chuckles lightly.

Your cheeks warm up. “Honestly, I think you’re the only person around here who’s made an effort to talk to me.”

He glances at the neighboring houses. “Yeah, well-” He points at the house across from yours. “That’s Mrs. Dowers – she’s barely sentient. The others don’t really talk much. We’re not exactly a block party bunch… Everyone around here’s kind of an asshole.”

“Ah.” You nod, looking along the road. “Lucky me.”

He just appears to be entertained by your sarcastic responses. His gaze lingers on you a moment before he speaks again. “I’ll be honest, Sherlock. You don’t seem as much of an ass as the others are.”

You shrug with a playful smile. “Give me a few days.”

He laughs again, surprised by how much he’s actually enjoying talking to you. “So you’re secretly a dick, huh?”

“Oh yeah. The full nine inches.”

“Ohhh, impressive.”

It’s your turn to laugh, glad that he’s matching your humor. It’s fun to shoot the shit with this man. “I mean, I don’t go around showing it off to everyone, but-”

He shakes his head, licking his teeth. After a moment, he nods in the direction of the abandoned half-destroyed boxes on your porch. “Pretty thing like you shouldn’t have had to move around heavy boxes and furniture by yourself, you know?”

Your teasing grin returns. “You were lookin’?”

“You weren’t?”

Fair point.

“Your boyfriend wouldn’t help ya?” he continues.

You shoot him a half-hearted glare to let him know you’re onto him. “Don’t have one. I don’t have the most bustling social life at the moment.”

“You sure ‘bout that?”

You cock a brow. “About what? That I’m incredibly boring or painfully single?”

“The second one.” He scoffs. “You not interested?”

“Not actively searching… but not opposed if an opportunity came up.” You feel a sense of relief, recognizing where this conversation is going. It was inevitable, really, with the way you’ve been talking.

He thinks for a second before speaking again. “So, if I said I was interested, what would you say?”

You straighten up from leaning on the railing, suddenly feeling the need to hold yourself with some air of self-regard. “That depends. You like girls who play hard to get or those who get straight to the point?”

“Mm. Guess I prefer getting right to the point. I don’t do too well with hard-to-get.”

You hum. “Then I’d say when and where?”

He grins. “You free tonight?”

Your smile shifts into a more earnest one to let him know you appreciate this. “Yeah.”

He finds himself liking this more sincere side of you that slips through the jokes. His shit-eating grin softens into a warmer smile. “Alright, then. You mind if I come knocking at your door around six? I know a great Chinese place.”

You nod, starting to back up toward your door. Fuck the mess of boxes, you need to start getting ready now. “It’s a date.”

He chuckles, lifting his hands. “You gonna tell me your name?” he calls out.

You laugh. “Isn’t it more fun this way? It’s not like you don’t know where to find me.”

He shakes his head in disbelief for the second time that afternoon and pushes himself off of his railing. It makes his exposed forearms tense. “Fair enough, Sherlock.”

“Later, Watson.” You disappear into your house.

A tree. The tattoo veiling his right hand and arm is of tree roots and its trunk.

Maybe this neighborhood isn’t so bad after all.

Author’s note: I don’t know how to feel about this one 😭 I kinda just went off and had fun with the dialogue so pls don’t take it too serious (gets cringe if u look too hard). I know James is ooc, I see it as more of a fun what-if-u-were-neighbors-and-both-hella-flirty headcanon. Also I like giving my reader characters lil personalities so sorry if it’s one of those “I would never do/say that” instances. We just have fun here. Thanks for reading <333

[distressxox]

"Missed You"

Ohma Tokita x Afab!Reader

Synopsis: Ohma is back and better than ever. After years of waiting, you and him share a passionate night together. (Takes place during Kengan Omega)

Content: 18+, Smut, A wee bit of angst, Afab bodyparts, Marking, Cunnilingus, P in V sex(unprotected), Creampie

Word Count: 2,596

How long had it been since you'd seen his face? How long had it been since you'd heard his voice nonchalantly say your name? How it rolled off his tongue when you were chatting normally, or when he'd say it in more sensual settings.

You'd refuse to belive he was actually gone. Holding your face in the palm of your hands almost every night as you sobbed in the comfort of your bathroom. The other fighters couldn't know how badly you were still grieving the loss of your one and only Ohma.

And yet....here he was. Standing infront of you yet again. You'd almost fainted when you were on the couch next to Kaede, but...she took the role for you. Casually strolling in next to Kazuo, his eyes firstly settling on you. Grinning as you jumped into his arms while babbling like a child.

Yes, you were angry at the same time. How could he, no, the Kure clan AND him keep this from you? However, all the pain accumulated over the years had vanished as soon as he wrapped his arms around you.

Ohma and you had retired to your apartment for the night. God it felt like a dream watching him lazily take off his shoes and jacket. How his muscular shoulders rolled the piece of clothing off of his back. His wavy black hair swaying gently as he turned to look at you.

You gulped before starting a sentence "I-"

He grabbed the back of your head pressed your lips into his. Your fingers grabbed a fistful of his shirt as he pressed you against the wall. He sharply inhaled as your lips parted for barely a second before he went in again.

Breathless and panting into his mouth, your hands squeezed at his biceps as you groaned. Not even 5 minutes being alone with eachother, and Ohma was already desperate to get his hands all over you.

Fuck he missed this. All those lonely nights in the Kure village thinking about you were over. He had you here, in his arms. He had been starved too damn long of your touch, your smell, your taste. He didn't want to waste any time talking, it could wait.

His hands felt up your waist down to the backs of your thighs. He hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his hips and carried you to the couch. Pressing you down into the cushions as his hand rested on the back of your head.

"Ohma-" You whined.

"Hm?" He stared at you with a half lidded gaze, eyebrows relaxed. His chest was pressed into your stomach as his chin was almost touching the dip between your breasts.

You almost choked on your words. This was a sight to behold.

"I missed you" Your fingers ran through his black locks. The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk. "Really?" His body snaked closer and up yours so he was face to face with you.

"Ohma...it's too early for teasing" You pouted, looking into his gray eyes that poured back into yours. He chuckled and lowered his mouth to your neck, grazing his teeth against the skin. Your body shuttered at the feeling of his fangs, escpecially his canines, delicately pressing into your skin little by little.

A deep sigh escaped your mouth as his own latched onto your neck. He remembered where your sweet spot was, enough do that memories of moments like this flooded your mind again. A twinge of pain ran up your spine as he clamped down harder. Whimpering, you pressed your body into his as your fingers tugged on his hair.

Ohma eventually let go of your neck before his teeth traced down to your collar. This time he nibbled all along the protruding bone, making sure there was still marks left but not biting hard enough to hurt you.

His hips shifted onto you as he groaned into your skin. You felt his bulge rubbing against your inner thigh. Your hips moved against his, making Ohma hiss and furrow his eyebrows.

"Missed me huh?" He clicked his tongue before sitting up and looking down at your form. Drinking it all in. He was noticeably a little sweaty, a thin layer of his glistening on his skin as the sunlight cascading from the window danced on his tan skin.

Your stomach fluttered as he stared you down. His chest rising and falling as the two of you sat in silence. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and lifted it over his head. Throwing it to the side without care. His chest and arms were still handsomely scarred as you remembered them being.

"You've got no damn idea how long I've been waiting" his calloused palms began sliding up your slides, pushing up your shirt to see your stomach. It tickled, so you let out a small giggle. But he didn't stop.

He pushed your shirt up and over your breasts. Staring at your bra as his thumbs pressed into its fabric.

"Ohma, please" You couldn't bear how long he was taking to finally touch you.

"So needy" he huffed and moved the cups of your bra out of the way before delving in with his mouth again. His hands cupping your tits so he could suck on them easier. Muffling your moan with the back of your hand every time his tongue danced over your nipple.

He hummed to your body's reaction, taking satisfaction in how much he could tell you wanted him. He switched to your other breast, giving it as much attention as the other one. Making sure your nipples were puffy and covered in his saliva.

The boner in his pants strained harder against his denim jeans. You could feel it twitch against your leg, so you grinded yourself into him. The pressure made the fabric of your pants rub against your entrance and aching clit.

Your eyes widened when you realized just how wet you had gotten just from this alone.

Ohmas mouth released your nipple before looking up at you.

"Moving your hips against me like that. Your body knows what it wants, huh" Ohma said lowly as his hand reached down to your waistband, snaking under it before pressing his digits onto your soaked underwear. You swore under your breath as one of his fingers felt around you clothed slit.

"Ohma- please use your fingers" You almost cried. You didn't care how desperate you seemed, all you wanted was for him to make you orgasm again.

"We're not doing that today" he took his hand out of your pants. Instead, he unzipped his pants and slid them down this thighs. You looked at his hard-on, and felt yourself throb with want.

"I'm hungry" he stood up and grabbed your legs, forcing your bottom half to slightly hang off the couch cushion.

"Wha-" you were caught off guard by his actions. He tugged the waistband of your pants down before sliding them off of your legs. He looked back at you and saw your underwear, getting down on his knees so that he was facing between your thighs. Taking both of his thumbs, he ripped the leg openings with a single swipe before using his teeth to rip it off of you.

You could feel his breath on your entrance as he panted. His arms wrapped under your thighs, placing them on his shoulders as his thumbs pressed into your hip bones, holding you in place.

His nose nudged against your clit, making you squirm.

"Relax a little, I wanna make sure you remember this" Ohma turned his head so that his mouth was on one of your thighs. He bit it gently, his nibbles growing closer to where you wanted his lips to be.

You exhaled through your nose, not knowing when he'd actually do something. But enjoying it nonetheless. Then it caught you off guard.

His hot mouth was now flush against your aching entrance, lapping up your wetness and licking at your folds. You almost lept out of his grasp with how harshly you jolted at the sensation. It had been a while afterall...

You choked out a mewl as he ravaged you like a starved man. Everytime his tongue bumped your clit your thighs squeezed his head tighter.

"Oh fuck" you moaned, both of your hands going down to grab his head for some sort of leverage. Ohma was too caught up in eating you out to care about how much you were pulling his hair. The way you tasted to him had his cock already dripping with precum.

Your juices ran down from his lips to his chin. He relished in all of your noises that he had missed over the years. But most of all, he just wanted to see you cum. His mouth mouth slightly upwards from your folds and to your clit. Where he began to suck on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

You felt yourself rapture in bliss. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you let out an erotic sob. He groaned at your reaction but didn't stop.

Thighs twitching, a coil inside of you was about to burst. Your heart started to beat out of your chest as you neared your peak.

"Look at me" Ohma commanded. Your sight was slightly blurred from the tears of pleasure, but you looked at him anyways. He looked up at you with lustful and carnivorous intent.

That alone was just enough to have your back arching as you came on his mouth, crying out his name. Your hips twitched and your back fell onto the cushion again, coming down from your high as you looked at him.

"That...was..." You paused to catch your breath "Amazing"

He separated from your clit and licked his lips. His chin glistened with your arousal, he wiped off what was left with the back of his hand before standing up. You sat up as well, taking his wrist. Guiding it so that he'd sit down next to you, which he obliged surprisingly.

"Let me take care of you now" you said softly as you straddled his lap. He placed his hands on your hips, raising his eyebrow. You took the liberty of pulling off his underwear, seeing his cock spring out of its restraints. It slapped against his stomach, which made you quietly chuckle.

Your hand wraps around the girth of his cock. It almost caught you off guard with how warm and hard it was. Reminding you again how long it had been since you'd had sex with him. You rubbed your slit against it, feeling the head of it slightly nudge your swollen clit.

Ohma closed his eyes, gritting his teeth when he felt your slick, wet entrance.

"Gonna make you feel good...missed you" You guided his tip in, feeling it just barely stretch your walls. Fuck you were in for it now. Your hips lowered slowly, his dick stretching you out. Your mouth hung open as you felt him hit your g-spot, thighs meeting his own.

He grunted, the grasp on your hips getting tight enough to leave bruises. "So fuckin' tight" he rasped, controlling the urge to move his hips.

Your hips began to rise again, feeling him slowly slide out made you huff in relief before slowly sliding down again. Your arms wrapped around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder as you whimpered. You picked up the pace a little, this time settling for more grinding motions.

Your spine arches again as you begin riding him. Feeling his cock stretch you out repeatedly with every motion you took. Another tear slipped down your cheek again as pathetic excuses for moans began slipping from your mouth.

Ohma was in the same boat, mind almost going blank at feeling your pussy tighten and flutter around him. His nails punctured your skin as he let out a low groan in your ear. He wanted to buck into you so bad, but it was just as hot seeing you milking his cock for him.

Your knees chafed against the couch cushion whilst you lifted your head to look at his face. His eyes darted to look at you, his mouth slightly open while his eyebrows contorted in concentration. You rested your forehead on his, closing your eyes and letting your body do the talking.

With every movement you made, waves of pleasure washed through you. But with every motion your thighs began to grow sore and tired. You weren't sure if you could keep up with chasing another orgasm. Your movements became staggered and slow, which Ohma took notice of.

"You need some help?" He asked with a cocky smile. You nodded weakly.

His hands grabbed the underside of your thighs and picked you up, making you squeal in surprise. He was still inside of you as he carried you, pressing you against the wall. "Hold onto me"

Your legs wrapped around his hips as his hands released your thighs to cage your body in. Your own hands held onto his large trap muscles.

"M'gonna move" he began slowly thrusting into you, rocking your body into the wall behind you. Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head as his cock stuffed you slowly.

"Faster" you muttered under your breath sensually. Ohma let out a groan as he slightly adjusted himself before picking up his pace. You cried out as he rutted into you, your nails raking down from his shoulders to his chest. Desperately trying to cling onto him.

The sound of his skin slapping softly against yours echoed through the room along with various noises emanating from the both of your mouths. Your inner thighs became sticky with your spreaded wetness that dripped down from you.

"Shit- Ohma" you mewled as one of your hands went down to rub your clit in figure 8's. Your fingers felt his pubes repeatedly connecting with your mound, almost tickling it as he pounded into you. He gave you another lustful kiss, silencing your moans as his movements got sloppier and more desperate.

"Gonna cum in you" Ohma said feverishly "Been too long since this pussy's been filled." You fluttered around him at hearing his words. His fingers clawed into the wall, puncturing the drywall as he passionately thrusted into you.

You almost threw your head back as your writhed on his cock, orgasming again. Ohma cussed, feeling your walls clamp down on him as you came. "Too damn tight" his forehead rested on the wall next to you.

"Cum inside me please" You sobbed into his ear. Your face felt hot and your hair stuck to the sweat on your face. You could've been cockdrunk at this point. He let out the throatiest and guttural moan you had ever heard as his hips snapped into you one last time.

His cock twitched inside as you felt your stomach grow warm with his seed. It spilled out of you and dripped on the floor the deeper he pressed himself into you. Ohma and you were both breathless and panting. His head slid down to your shoulder as he slightly lifted you up, pulling out of you. You laughed at the current state of Ohma and yourself.

He wrapped his arms around you, embracing you tightly. Pressing his nose in your shoulder blade and inhaling your scent deeply. He definitely missed you, too.

"Promise to never leave me again?" You asked in a hushed tone.

"Mhm" he hummed into your skin.

"Good. Let's clean ourselves up then"

[suhlogic]

home is wherever we are [kim mingyu x fem!oc] 🔞

genre: fluff, smut, established relationship, non idol au, mingyu's a soft dom

warnings: unprotected sex, size kink, rough sex, dom!kmg, sub!oc

[8:00am]

liz just landed in seoul, the weight of the jet lag dawning on her during the ride from the airport, she just wished mingyu picked her up but she was going to surprise her boyfriend and didn't want to feel like a bother waking him up knowing that the preparations for the upcoming comeback definitely has him sleeping in after pouring all those late nights in the studio and practice room with the boys.

the drive from the airport was a bit longer than she expected but it was a relief as her  friends, jeonghan and soonyoung insisted on picking her up. seoul in the spring was still cold—although not as harsh during the winter, it was a good balance of everything she loved. especially knowing that mingyu was at home made her smile at the thought of him.

"hey, where are you guys? i'm already outside the airport" she said on the phone. “liz, we're just going to park then we’ll go to you.” jeonghan says as you hear soonyoung in the background reply, “we can already see you, we’ll be there in a bit.” she replied back with a simple okay and waited for the two to help with her luggages. 

they finally met up and it did not take long for the three of them to hug each other as the best friends reunited despite her just being in manila for a week to visit family. it was always a no-brainer for her that the moment she was introduced to mingyu they hit it off so quickly and for the first time that night, she felt like she knew him for a lifetime already. 

the drive on the way to their home was relaxing, it didn’t feel too heavy for her and it helped that jeonghan and soonyoung were talking to her too asking about the trip and telling her how mingyu was when she was away. as she looked out into seoul’s skyline, she dozed off to alleviate the jet lag as the chattering of her two friends droned on for the rest of the drive. 

[10:30am]

the car pulls over to the familiar facade of mingyu and isa’s house as soonyoung wakes her up and says, “liz-ssi, we’re already here. jeonghan hyung is just getting your stuff from the back.” she gets out of the car and is greeted by the cold breeze and bright sun— the smile on her face had love written all over her not being able to hide the fact that she was going to see mingyu behind that door. the three of them exchanged their goodbyes as she set foot on the steps of the house. isa began to fumble for her keys but mingyu beat her to it and she was greeted by her boyfriend whose hair was slightly sticking up all over the place wearing just a sweater and a pair of gray sweatpants with a sleepy smile on his face. she dropped her bags and immediately jumped into his arms to hug him tightly, “hi, love…” she says smiling as she cupped his face, “i missed you so much,” mingyu held her closer and tucked in a lock of hair behind her ear, “the house felt so lonely without you,” he whispers before immediately kissing the tip of her nose. 

he put her down on her feet and held her hand as they walked together into the living room. she began to take off her coat and hoodie, only now left with just a tank top thick enough for the cold outside and the warmth in their house as mingyu brought her luggage and bags near the stairs. “baby, come here please,” she says with a pout while patting the spot next to her on the couch. he couldn’t resist how pretty she still looked despite being on the plane for hours yet she was being so tempting so early in the morning. he lays down next to her on the couch as they both begin to cuddle each other closer, isa being the little spoon playing with his hand constantly comparing it to hers.  “angel, have you eaten yet?” gyu asks, looking at her intently. “i haven’t.” she says as he begins to get up but isa stops him. “no baby, i’m still okay, it can wait—i just wanna cuddle up with you now.” mingyu smiles at how touch-starved she was for him and cuddles her up again. “you missed me so much?” he smiles bashfully, “i didn’t get to cuddle and kiss you for days, it’s so bad.” she pouts. she’s definitely thinking of being fucked by him so early now mingyu thought. 

mingyu lies down beside her, feet up on the coffee table as she’s snuggled into his firm and broad chest. “love, do you wanna do anything today?” he says as his chin rests on top of her head. “we could just go to anyang again tomorrow? i love the park there.” she says absentmindedly while drawing imaginary scribbles of nothing on his chest, “but now i just want you,” she says with a mischievous smirk, adjusting to sit herself up to kiss his jawline and was returned by a smile from him. “you’re not at all tired aren’t you?” he says in a low voice with a hint of morning grogginess still present. “no, who said i was?” she says as she begins to sit on his lap facing him and wrapping her arms around his nape and kissed him fervently. mingyu’s hands roamed across her body and began to feel her up under her shirt, she suddenly pulled away from the kiss moaning in pleasure because of how good his warm hands felt. “baby, please…do something,” she sighed in desperation. “gonna have to use your words angel,” he whispers as he left kisses on her neck and jaw. 

“daddy, please i need you inside me,” she whines as he sends a smile back at her while he takes her shirt off. liz grinds harder against his clothed dick and feels him getting harder by the second. “atta girl, that’s more like it,” he says. mingyu proceeds to stand up and carry her, she didn’t even question his strength and height as he always  frequented the gym with seungcheol and wonwoo. 

“jump.” he says as he puts his hands on her ass while not breaking the desperate and steamy makeout session on the way to their shared bedroom.  her clothes were scattered across their home but she didn’t care one bit, all she cared about was having mingyu to herself after a week of being so touch-starved. he lays her down gently on their bed before he removes his sweater, liz kept herself occupied by fondling her huge tits and rubbing her clit as she smiled naughtily at him. mingyu’s eyes right now were far from the kind, loving, and happy ones she was always used to. they were now filled with lust and desperation, “hmm, did i tell you to touch yourself?” he said tauntingly as he cupped her face and kissed her once more before sucking and leaving hickeys all over her chest and stomach, even down to her thighs. his hot breath comes in contact with her thin and flimsy lace panties as he took them off gently. “so pretty, all spread out for me yeah?” he says as he places his head in between her thighs and begins to eat her out, licking her wetness making figure eights with his tongue and sucking on her clit making her moan loudly. mingyu rubs his  thumb against the bud of her wet clit and inserts his middle finger inside her which made her arch her back and let out a whiny moan, "gyu, i need you so bad baby..." he continues to move his digits slowly as he kisses her lips, tongues intertwining with each other. "patience, princess, daddy's just takin' his time with you, hmm?" he whispers.

seeing her close her eyes in pleasure and moan his name drove mingyu crazy. he starts to finger her faster, "daddy, please i'm so close..." she whines. "cum for me baby, come on." he smirks as he kisses her forehead while curling his fingers inside her. she looks so spent and needy for his dick lying so prettily on their shared bed as mingyu begins to rid himself of his sweatpants. he wasn't wearing a pair of boxers underneath, just his huge, long, and thick dick slapping against his perfectly sculpted abs. its red angry tip oozing with precum. "fuck, so gorgeous looking all spread out for me," he groans as he hovers on top of her once again. mingyu teases her folds with his manhood as she lets out a moan.

 "baby please put it in," she whispers. "'m just adjusting angel, don't wanna hurt you.." no matter how many times they fucked, mingyu's size was still something she needed to get used to. although deep down she loves the size difference they have, and so does he. they both moan at how his dick fills her up, "fuck, baby you're so tight...just all mine,huh?" he groans. mingyu's always been such a talker during sex and it drives her crazy especially with how he's got her under him, her legs put on both of his shoulders as mingyu thrusts inside her tight and warm pussy slowly hitting spots that made her see stars and moan more. as he fastens his pace, he begins to kiss the side of her ankle. 

"fuck baby, you drive me insane," he says as she removes her legs from where they're positioned and begins to put them on his lower back, caging him in as she feels him hit deeper and harder as the tip of his dick kisses into her cervix. "daddy, i'm close please...go faster," she pleads, teary-eyed from the hellish yet pleasurable actions they've been doing. mingyu's other hand travels to her neck as he slightly chokes her while his thrusts get harder and sloppier, nearing his climax. "angel, i'm getting close too...let's cum together yeah?" he moans as he fondles her boobs once more leaning down to kiss her all over her face. "fuck, baby please...pretty girl..." he moans as liz feels his thick warm ropes fill her up. 

mingyu kisses her face once more and removes himself on top of liz . "babe, are you good? was i too rough?" he asks gently with his eyes now softening up. "no, gyu i'm  okay...i liked it" she smiles, now facing her lover beside her. he laughs at how smitten and blushed she looks, "okay love, i'll just get a towel to clean you up okay?" as mingyu got up, she begins to smile more at herself thinking how lucky she was to have the man of her dreams. his broad back facing her from their shared bathroom and he catches her smile again once he got out to wipe both of them off of the mess they made. 

after cleaning up, mingyu pulls her close against his chest and covers their entangled bodies with the duvet to keep them warm. "i missed you so much," he says as she's now facing him, his huge, toned arms wrapped around her body. "i missed you too, gyu," she smiles tiredly. "hmm, is there anything you want to do later?" he asks softly. "let's just stay in, love, i'm still so sore" she says in between laughs. "okay, let's just sleep again and go out for dinner later, yeah?" he says as he kisses the tip of her nose again— the two lovers falling into deep slumber once again after being apart for a week and for liz, this is where she's at her happiest with mingyu, no matter where she is in the world as long as he's by her side and same goes for him.