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mocharyc · 2 days ago

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𝙰𝚣𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙷𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚘𝚗𝚜 Pt.3! (SMUT)

♡ Spicy time with Mohawk Mark ~ ♡

✩ ‧ ₊ ˚ Promises to Keep‧ ₊ ˚

⚠YOU CAN READ THIS BY ITSELF OR FOLLOW THE SERIES⚠

((SEMI SLOW LEAD UP TO SMUT))

☆ WC: 10k+ [Pt.3] ☆ TW: SMUT (Sexual intercourse with Mohawk) ☆ Authors note: Hey, so I wrote this very chap VERY descriptive, read it when you have time and wanna get into a hot moment, lol. A lot of details were added, so you can really ENVISION this first-hand.

Anyways, Mohawk has a snarky, sarcastic personality on the outside, but I believe he gets really soft and needy during sexual stuff with his lover... hehe I've been flopping recently, and I'm going insane... I can't take it. PLEASE show this some love! I beg! ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The walk back to the fortress was filled with comfortable chatter, the group's dynamics having shifted into something remarkably harmonious after their day at the lake. As they approached the towering structure—no longer just a shelter but beginning to feel like home—Y/N found herself falling into step beside Mohawk, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet since they'd left the shore.

"Getting ready to admit defeat?" she teased, nudging his arm with her elbow.

Mohawk's eyes lit up at her attention, a slow grin spreading across his face as his gaze swept over her, "Defeat? Princess, I won that bet fair and square. You're the one who needs to prepare for culinary servitude."

"Culinary servitude?" Y/N laughed, the sound echoing through the alien twilight. "I don't remember agreeing to those terms."

"You didn't specify otherwise," he countered, voice dropping so low, it seemed to vibrate through her chest. His fingers brushed against her waist casually as they walked, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "And I distinctly remember someone promising dinner of my choice."

Ahead of them, Omni Mark glanced back, one eyebrow raised in silent question. Y/N gave him a reassuring smile, and something in his gaze softened before he turned his attention back to the path.

"Fine," Y/N conceded with mock exasperation. "But I'll need a sous chef. Those spicy things have tentacles, and I'm not handling those alone."

Mohawk's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Afraid of a little tentacle, princess? Didn't seem to bother you when Sinister spotted that lake creature."

"That was different," she protested. "It wasn't going to be my dinner."

"Fair point." Mohawk's hand brushed against hers, the touch seemingly accidental but lingering just long enough to send warmth spiraling up her arm, "I suppose I could be convinced to help. For a price."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "And what price would that be?"

His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before meeting her eyes again, hunger darkening his brown eyes, "I'll let you know when I decide."

The words hung between them, charged with promise as they continued toward the fortress that loomed against the backdrop of the now-rising moons.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

The fortress kitchen had quickly become one of Y/N's favorite places. Unlike the coldly efficient space they'd first discovered, it had transformed under their collective care—herbs from the nearby fields hung drying from rafters, colorful alien fruits filled stone bowls, and the massive hearth radiated welcoming warmth.

"You actually showed up," Mohawk remarked as Y/N entered, his lean frame silhouetted against the cooking fire. He'd changed from his swim attire into loose-fitting black pants that rode low on his hips and nothing else, leaving his broad chest bare. Droplets of water traced tantalizing paths down the defined muscles of his torso, disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants, while some water droplets still clung to the ends of his mohawk, suggesting a recent shower.

"I always keep my promises," Y/N replied, leaning against the doorframe. "Unlike someone who promised to help supervise."

"Oh, I'm supervising." The corner of his mouth quirked up as his eyes traveled slowly down her form.

She'd also showered and changed, opting for a simple tunic-like garment in a soft fabric from her wardrobe. The lavender fabric clung to her curves in all the right places, the material thin enough that her body heat showed through, creating a silhouette that had Mohawk's full attention.

"Supervising requires more than just standing there looking pretty," Y/N challenged, pushing away from the doorframe and approaching the large stone table where he'd already laid out several ingredients.

"Pretty?" Mohawk snorted, though a pink flush colored his cheeks. "Princess, I'm many things, but pretty isn't one of them."

"I disagree," Y/N replied with deliberate casualness as she examined the spread before her. The spicy tentacled fruits—which No-Mask had tentatively classified as some kind of land-dwelling mollusk/plant hybrid—were indeed present, alongside various herbs and what appeared to be the alien equivalent of root vegetables.

She could feel Mohawk's surprise at her compliment, his momentary silence heavier than any verbal response would have been. When he finally moved, coming to stand beside her at the table, the heat from his body was a boiling presence against her side.

"If you're angling to get out of cooking, flattery won't work," he said with a soft smirk, though his voice had lost some of its edge.

Y/N glanced up at him through her lashes. "Who says I'm angling for anything? Maybe I just like watching you blush."

The red on his cheeks deepened, spreading down his neck to the top of his chest. "I-I don't blush," he growled grumpily, though the evidence clearly contradicted his claim. "I'm physically incapable of it."

"Mmm, my mistake then," Y/N hummed, with a soft roll of her eyes, deliberately brushing against him as she reached for a knife. "Must be the lighting."

Mohawk caught her wrist before her fingers could close around the blade, his grip firm but gentle. "Careful with that," he murmured, his voice dropping to that rumbling register that seemed to reverberate through her bones. "These things are sharper than they look."

The double meaning wasn't lost on her—nor was the way his thumb brushed slowly across her pulse point, tracking its acceleration.

"I can handle sharp things," she countered, making no move to pull away from his touch.

"Can you?" His brown eyes held hers, challenge sparking between them. "Show me."

Y/N held his gaze as she slowly twisted her wrist in his grasp, not breaking free but repositioning until her palm pressed against his. "I'm not afraid of getting cut," she said softly.

Something dark and hungry flashed in Mohawk's brown eyes before he stepped back, releasing her with what seemed like reluctance. "Good to know," he replied, voice rougher than before. "Now about dinner—"

The kitchen door swung open, and Lensless bounded in, vibrating with his usual excess energy. "Hey! What are you guys making? Can I help? I'm really fast at chopping things! One time I diced an entire onion in 0.3 seconds but then I sneezed and it went everywhere and—"

"We're good," Mohawk interrupted, shooting Lensless a deadly glare.

Lensless's eyes darted between them, realization dawning on his face as he tugged on his shorts nervously. "Ohhhh, right, the bet! You two are doing dinner together! That's so cute! Like a date! Is it a date? Should I tell the others not to—"

"Lensless," Y/N interjected gently. "Would you mind letting the others know dinner might be a bit later than usual? We're experimenting with some new ingredients."

"Sure! No problem! Totally get it!" Lensless nodded so rapidly his features blurred. "Private cooking time! I'll make sure nobody bothers you! Except maybe Sinister because he never listens to me but I'll try my best!" With that, he ran out of the kitchen, leaving behind only a faint breeze and the lingering scent of fresh mint from his recent shower.

When the door swung shut behind him, Mohawk let out a breath that was half laugh, half groan, rolling his eyes dramatically. "That kid has the worst timing in any universe."

"Or the best," Y/N countered with a small smile. "Depends on your perspective."

Mohawk's gaze sharpened with interest, the firelight from the hearth casting golden shadows across his chiseled features. His eyes gleamed with unmistakable hunger as they traced the curve of her smile. "And what's your perspective, princess?"

Y/N picked up the knife he'd warned her about earlier, testing its weight in her hand, spinning it with surprising dexterity between her fingers, the metal catching the warm light as it twirled. "That depends on whether you're actually going to help me with dinner or just stand there looking intimidating."

"I can multitask," he replied, his voice dropping to that rumbling baritone that seemed to vibrate through the room as he moved closer until he stood directly behind her, his powerful body radiating heat like a furnace at her back.

The solid wall of his chest pressed against her shoulder blades, his hips aligned with her backside perfectly, making it impossible to ignore the growing firmness there. "Show me what you want me to do."

Y/N swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of every point where their bodies connected, of how small the kitchen felt with his massive presence filling the space behind her. "You could start by chopping these," she suggested, gesturing to the tentacled fruits with a steadiness she didn't entirely feel.

Instead of moving away to comply, Mohawk reached around her, his chest pressing further against her back as his muscled arm brushed against hers, the unexpected contact sending goosebumps racing across her skin. He picked up a second knife. "Like this?" he asked, his lips mere inches from her ear, his hot breath fanning across her sensitive skin as he sliced through one of the purple fruits. The movement brought his stubbled jaw alongside hers, the rough texture grazing her temple in a touch that felt deliberately provocative.

"That works," she managed, suppressing a visible shiver as warmth bloomed in her cheeks and spread down her neck. She tried to focus on her own preparation despite the distracting heat of him surrounding her, but her body betrayed her with a slight tremor in her hands.

They worked like that for several minutes—Mohawk maintaining their close proximity even when the small kitchen offered plenty of space, finding excuses to reach around her for ingredients or utensils, each touch growing more deliberate with every pass. His large hands would graze her waist, fingers splaying to brush against her hips, occasionally dipping dangerously low before retreating, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

Unable to resist the magnetic pull between them, Y/N leaned back into his solid frame. The movement pressed her curves firmly against the hard planes of his body, her backside connecting with the unmistakable evidence of his growing arousal. The contact drew a sharp intake of breath from him, his fingers momentarily tightening on the knife before he set it carefully aside.

"How's the supervision going?" she asked, her voice huskier than intended as she tilted her head to meet his gaze.

"Thoroughly," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear in a touch so feather-light it might have been accidental if not for the way his hands now settled possessively on her hips. "You're doing well. Better than I expected, considering."

Y/N turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze from mere inches away. "Considering what?"

"Considering how badly your hands are shaking," he observed, a smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth as his thumbs traced small circles on her hip bones. "Am I distracting you, princess?"

"You wish," she scoffed, though the breathless quality of her voice and the flush spreading across her cheeks told a different story.

His chuckle was a deep rumble she felt reverberating through her entire body, his eyes darkening with desire as he watched her reaction. "I do wish," he admitted, the unexpected honesty in his voice catching her off guard. "I wish a lot of things when it comes to you."

Y/N turned fully in his arms then, the cooking momentarily forgotten. "Like what?"

Mohawk's expression shifted, the perpetual smirk giving way to something more complex—hunger still, but tempered with an emotion that looked almost vulnerable on his usually hardened features.

His hands settled on her waist, large enough to nearly span it completely as his thumb traced featherlight patterns against her abdomen through her shirt, the simple touch sending shivers racing up her spine.

"Like having you all to myself for more than five fucking minutes," he replied, his fingers skimmed along her sides. "Like finding out if you taste as sweet as you smell." His hands moved to her hips, gripping the needable flesh. "Like hearing the sounds you'd make if I touched you right."

Heat bloomed across Y/N's cheeks, spreading down her neck and across her chest until her skin felt too tight, too sensitive. Her pulse quickened under his intense gaze, her lips parting slightly as she drew in an unsteady breath.

"Pretty sure our dinner's burning," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the hearth fire, her eyes never leaving his.

"Let it," Mohawk growled, though he made no move to close the remaining distance between them.

For all his brash words and bold touches, there was a hesitation in his eyes—a silent question, seeking permission despite the confident set of his shoulders.

It was that realization that made her decision. She reached up, threading her fingers through the shorter hair at the sides of his mohawk, feeling the surprising softness against her palms as she pulled his head down to hers, bringing his lips to hers with an urgency that surprised them both.

The kiss was nothing like their previous encounters—not the desperate clash during the war nor the playful peck at the kitchen and lake. This was something entirely new—slow, deliberate heat that built with every passing second.

Mohawk's initial surprise quickly melted into something primal as his arms tightened around her, pulling her flush against him until not even air could pass between their bodies.

His lips overwhelmed hers, surprisingly soft and pliant despite his rough exterior, moving with a practiced confidence that made her knees weak. The contrast between his gentle mouth and the harsh stubble scraping her skin created a delicious friction that made her groan.

When his tongue swept against the seam of her lips, Y/N gasped softly, the small sound swallowed by his mouth as she opened to him without hesitation, surrendering to the intoxicating slide of his tongue against hers. The taste of him—spicy and masculine with hints of something unexpectedly sweet—flooded her senses as she clutched at his shoulders for support. His hands slid down to cup her backside, lifting her slightly to better align their bodies, the hard ridge of his manhood pressing insistently against her stomach, hot even through layers of clothing.

"Fuck," he breathed against her mouth when they finally broke for air, his chest heaving as though he'd run miles rather than just kissed her. "Been wanting to do that properly since the lake."

"Just since the lake?" Y/N teased, delighting in the way his pupils expanded until only a thin ring of brown remained.

"Since I first saw you," he admitted, voice rough with an honesty that seemed to surprise even him. "Standing there in the middle of that battlefield like some kind of avenging angel. Wanted you even then."

The confession sent electricity racing down her spine. This wasn't just attraction or convenience—this was something that had been building since their very first encounter, something that transcended universes.

"Show me," she challenged, going up on her tippy toes to nip gently at his lower lip, drawing a hiss from deep in his throat. "Show me how much you want me."

Something dangerous and thrilling flashed across Mohawk's face—a predatory hunger that should have frightened her but instead sent liquid heat pooling low in her abdomen. In one fluid motion, he lifted her off her feet and deposited her on the edge of the stone table, his movements so swift and effortless that she barely had time to gasp before finding herself seated, several abandoned cooking implements clattering to the floor.

"Careful what you ask for, princess," he warned, his voice dropping low that seemed designed to make her core clench with anticipation. His hands bracketed her hips, holding her in place as he stepped between her parted knees. "I'm not known for my restraint."

Y/N reached for him, her fingers trailing over the impressive expanse of his chest, exploring the ridges and valleys of hard muscle beneath warm skin. The dense mat of hair covering his torso was surprisingly soft against her palms, tickling her fingertips as she explored the ridges of muscle beneath—so different from Omni's smoother torso or Viltrumite's leaner build. "Maybe I don't want restraint," she whispered.

Mohawk half growled, half groaned as he captured her mouth again. The kiss deeper and hungrier than before, his tongue claiming her mouth with possessive strokes, making her whimper against his lips. His hands were all over her—roaming her body with barely contained urgency—sliding up her thighs beneath the tunic, tangling in her hair, cupping her face with surprising tenderness before drifting lower to trace the curve of her breast through the thin fabric.

When his thumb brushed across her nipple, the sudden jolt of pleasure made Y/N gasp into his mouth, her back arching involuntarily as the sensitive peak hardened beneath his touch. Mohawk broke the kiss to watch her reaction, his eyes hooded, focused on her face with an almost scientific interest as he repeated the motion more deliberately.

"Sensitive," he observed, a smug satisfaction coloring his voice as he circled the hardened peak with deliberate strokes. "Wonder if you're this responsive everywhere?"

Before Y/N could formulate a response, he was tugging the tunic upward, his intentions unmistakable as his large hands bunched the fabric at her waist. She raised her arms, allowing him to pull the garment over her head and discard it somewhere behind him. The cool air of the kitchen raised goosebumps across her newly exposed skin, her nipples tightening further under the combination of cold air and Mohawk's burning gaze.

"Fucking perfect," he breathed, his voice filled with such raw appreciation that any self-consciousness she might have felt vanished instantly. His large hands came up to cup her breasts, the gentle weight of them filling his palms as his thumbs traced teasing circles around her areolas, deliberately avoiding the sensitive peaks that ached for his touch. "Even better than I imagined, and believe me, princess—I've imagined plenty."

Y/N felt exposed under his intense scrutiny if not for the unabashed admiration written across his features, the way his eyes darkened with each passing moment as they roved over her naked torso. His thumbs finally brushed across her nipples with teasing pressure, drawing a soft sound from deep in her throat as pleasure radiated from her nipples.

"You're staring," she murmured, unable to hide the tremor in her voice as another wave of sensation washed through her, heat flooding her cheeks.

"Damn right I am," he replied without a hint of apology, his gaze traveled over her form. "Been wanting to see you like this since day one." He leaned down, replacing one thumb with his mouth, the sudden contrast between the cool air and the wet heat of his tongue drawing a shocked gasp from her lips as she arched, eyes widening at the sensation. "Been wanting to taste you everywhere."

Y/N's head fell back on a gasp, exposing the column of her throat as pleasure coursed through her veins like liquid fire. One hand came up to cradle the back of his head, fingers threading through his mohawk as she held him against her breast, while the other gripped his shoulder for support. The soft scrape of his stubble against her sensitive skin created a delicious contrast to the wet heat of his mouth, each gentle bite followed by a soothing lap of his tongue that had her squirming against him, seeking more contact.

He gave one hard bite on her right breast, the sharp sting of pain quickly melting into pleasure as he soothed the mark with his tongue. Pulling back, he smirked and admired his work—she was transformed under his touch, chest heaving with rapid breaths, skin flushed pink with arousal, and eyes half-lidded with desire. Her breasts were flushed red and her nipples were visibly swollen from his attention.

"Still think dinner's the priority?" he asked, voice rough with desire as he smirked.

Unable to form coherent words, Y/N hooked her legs around his waist, strong thighs pressing against his hips as she pulled him closer to the edge of the table where she sat. The movement brought the hard ridge of his bulge directly against her core, drawing a hiss from both of them despite the barriers of clothing still between them.

"I think," she replied, deliberately rocking against him in a slow, teasing motion that had his hands tightening on her thighs, "that I'm more interested in dessert right now."

A wicked grin spread across Mohawk's face, transforming his features with boyish delight despite the hunger in his eyes. "Always knew you had good taste, princess." His hands slid beneath her thighs, gripping the firm muscle there as he adjusted her position slightly before grinding against her with deliberate pressure. The hard length of him manhood pressed perfectly against her core, sending jolts of electricity up her spine that had her gasping. "How long have you been thinking about this? About us?"

The unexpected vulnerability in his question caught Y/N off guard—beneath the confident exterior and bold touches, there was an uncertainty she hadn't anticipated. She cupped his face between her palms, thumbs brushing across the stubble on his cheeks as she forced him to meet her gaze directly.

"Since you kissed me during the war," she admitted honestly. "Maybe even before that. When you looked at me like I was the answer to a question you'd been asking your whole life."

Something raw and unguarded flickered in his eyes, a flash of emotion so intense it almost hurt to witness before he buried it beneath desire once more. He captured her mouth again, the kiss surprisingly gentle despite the tension evident in every corded muscle of his body, his lips moving against hers with a tenderness that belied his usual brashness. "Never thought I'd get another chance," he murmured against her lips. "After my Y/N died, I didn't think—" He broke off, burying his face in the curve of her neck.

Y/N ran her fingers through his mohawk, the gesture soothing as she held him close, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against her chest. She traced the soft skin at the nape of his neck, feeling the strong tendons there as he shuddered against her. "I'm here now," she whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

Mohawk lifted his head, his expression so nakedly hopeful it made her heart ache for all he'd lost, for the pain he carried beneath his cavalier exterior. "Promise?"

"Promise," she confirmed, sealing the vow with a kiss that started gentle but quickly blazed into something more.

That single word seemed to break something loose in him—the last threads of his self-control snapping as he claimed her mouth with renewed hunger. His tongue invaded her mouth, exploring and claiming as his hands roamed her body with increasing urgency. A low growl rumbled in his chest as she whimpered against him. His hands were everywhere at once—tracing the curve of her waist, palming her breasts, sliding down to grip her hips with bruising intensity as he ground against her.

"Need you," he growled against her mouth. "Feel how much I fucking need you," he added, guiding her hand downward to press against the prominent bulge straining against his pants. The heat of him seared through the fabric, impossibly hard yet somehow silky beneath her palm as she traced his length, drawing a sharp hiss from between his clenched teeth. "Wanted this for so fucking long."

"Then take me," Y/N challenged, deliberately dragging her teeth across his lower lip as she bit down gently. The sharp sting of her teeth had him hissing, his hips bucking involuntarily against her core. "Unless you're all talk, Mohawk~?"

His eyes narrowed, pupils dilating until they nearly swallowed the brown of his irises. "Oh, princess," he purred, the dangerous softness in his voice sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine. "You're gonna feel exactly how much I can back up my talk. You're gonna regret that challenge."

In one fluid motion, he lifted her off the table entirely, his hands gripping the undersides of her thighs as her legs automatically wrapped around his waist. The powerful muscles of his arms flexed beneath her grip, his strength effortlessly supporting her weight as if she were nothing. He carried her across the kitchen with confident strides, never breaking eye contact as anticipation built between them. Her back met the cool stone wall beside the hearth, the contrast with Mohawk's burning skin pulling a gasp from her lips.

"Right here?" she asked breathlessly, excitement fluttering in her stomach at the thought of being taken against the wall, their passion too urgent to make it to a bedroom.

"Right here," he confirmed, his grin wolfish in the dancing firelight, shadows accentuating the sharp angles of his face. "Want to watch you come undone against this wall," he growled, rolling his hips against her in a slow, deliberate motion that had her biting her lip to hold back a moan. "Unless you'd prefer somewhere more comfortable?"

Y/N considered for a moment—the private sanctuary of her chambers, perhaps, or even one of the many unused rooms throughout the fortress. But there was something intoxicating about the urgency of this moment, about Mohawk's barely contained desire and the heat of the kitchen fire painting his powerful body in gold and shadow.

"Here is perfect," she decided, tightening her legs around his waist. The adjustment brought his hardness directly against her aching vagina, making her groan and dig her nails into the muscles of his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks on his skin.

Mohawk's smile turned predatory, his eyes darkening to nearly black as he gazed down at her. "Good choice." His hands slid to the waistband of her leggings, fingers dipping just beneath the fabric. Tracing teasing circles on her lower belly, making her muscles jump beneath his touch. "These need to go."

Y/N nodded her agreement, her breath catching in her throat as anticipation coiled tight in her stomach. Her lips, swollen from his kisses, parted on a silent gasp as his fingertips dipped lower with torturous slowness. She unwound her legs from his waist just long enough for him to tug the garment down, leaving her in just the damp panties that clung to her mound. She kicked the leggings aside, now feeling the rough fabric of his pants against her nearly bare lower half, the friction drawing a whimper from her throat. The contrast between the cool air and his burning skin against her exposed thighs made her shiver, her body unconsciously arching toward his heat.

"Look at you," Mohawk breathed, taking a half-step back to admire her near-naked form. His gaze felt like a physical caress, raking over her body with such intensity that heat bloomed everywhere his eyes lingered. His expression held such raw hunger it made her breath hitch, yet beneath the desire was something deeper—a reverence that made her heart flutter wildly against her ribs. He seemed to memorize every curve, every freckle, every scar. "Fucking perfect."

Y/N felt a moment of self-consciousness as his gaze fell to the dark curls visible through her damp underwear. A flush spread from her cheeks down her neck to her chest, her skin turning a delicate rose that made her nipples stand out even more prominently against her flushed skin.

She realized this was her first time being so exposed in the light. With Sinister in the cave, darkness had hidden her body's natural state, but here in the kitchen's warm glow, nothing was concealed. The vulnerability of being seen—truly seen—by him sent a conflicting wave of anxiety and arousal through her core. She resisted the urge to cover herself, uncertain about her body hair after years in the sterile GDA environment.

Mohawk must have sensed her hesitation, because his eyes grew gentle for a heartbeat, the rare tenderness there making her chest tighten with emotion. "Every inch of you," he murmured, sliding his hands up her thighs with reverent slowness. His large palms covered so much territory, the strength in them carefully controlled as they kneaded the soft flesh beneath. His thumbs traced the edges of her underwear, teasing the sensitive skin there.

"Perfect." He leaned closer, his gaze dropping to the damp fabric clinging to her mound. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Though it looks like the forest floor got a little… overgrown. Don't worry, princess," he chuckled softly, his voice a low rumble against her ear, the warm puff of his breath sending shivers racing down her spine as he nipped playfully at her earlobe, "I've always enjoyed a bit of exploring in the wilderness."

Y/N's embarrassment vanished, replaced by a burst of unexpected laughter that bubbled from her throat. She playfully kicked at his groin, her foot connecting just firmly enough to draw a surprised groan from him that was part pain, part arousal. His eyes widened momentarily before narrowing with dangerous delight.

"Save that feisty business for the main course, princess," he growled, capturing her ankle in his hand before it could retreat. His thumb traced the delicate bones there, pressing into the arch of her foot in a way that made her toes curl with unexpected pleasure as a laugh rumbled in his chest, the sound warming her from the inside out.

"Your turn," she insisted, reaching for the drawstring of his pants, her confidence returning at his genuine admiration. Her fingers brushed against the hard planes of his lower abdomen, feeling the muscles there contract sharply at her touch.

Mohawk caught her wrists, pressing them gently back against the wall above her head. His grip was firm but careful, large enough that his fingers completely encircled her wrists with room to spare. The tiny wince that crossed her features didn't escape his notice, and he immediately adjusted, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against her pulse points, the surprising tenderness at odds with the hunger in his eyes.

The position made her feel wonderfully vulnerable, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath.

"Not yet," he growled, leaning in to nip at the sensitive spot below her ear. The sharp edge of his teeth followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue had her arching against him, a breathy moan escaping her lips. Her body responded instinctively to his touch, straining toward him even as he held her firmly in place. "Been dreaming about tasting you first."

Without releasing her wrists, Mohawk shifted his stance, lowering himself slightly while still keeping her pinned to the wall. The movement showcased the raw power in his thighs as he bent his knees, his free hand sliding between her legs with practiced ease.

His fingers traced up her inner thigh with feather-light touches that left goosebumps in their wake, each caress drawing closer to where she ached for him most. The muscles in her thighs quivered beneath his touch, anticipation making her breath come in short, desperate gasps.

"Been thinking about this since the first time I kissed you," he murmured, his voice husky with desire as his lips traced a burning path along her collarbone.

The rasp of his stubble against her sensitive skin created a delicious contrast to the wetness of his open-mouthed kisses. "The sounds you'd make. How you'd taste on my tongue."

Y/N's head fell back against the wall, surrendering to the sensations as his fingers finally hooked into the waistband of her underwear. He released her wrists to slide the soaked fabric down her legs, his movements deliberately slow as though savoring each new inch of skin revealed.

His eyes never left her body, drinking in every detail like a man dying of thirst. She stepped out of them on trembling legs, now completely bare from the waist down, feeling utterly exposed yet strangely powerful under his hungry gaze.

Mohawk tossed her underwear aside, his eyes darkening to almost black as he took in the sight of her completely bare before him. The raw desire in his expression was unmistakable, his breathing growing heavier as he drank in the view of her glistening folds, already slick with arousal.

"Mark," she whispered, one hand coming down to tangle in his hair. The softness of his mohawk surprised her, the shorter sides velvety against her palm.

He glanced up at her from his slightly lowered position, the firelight catching the hunger in his eyes, turning them to molten amber. "Say it again," he urged, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her inner thigh, dangerously close to her wetness. His tongue darted out to taste the sensitive crease where thigh met her core, making her gasp and tighten her grip on his mohawk. "Want to hear it from your lips when you come apart."

It took Y/N a moment to realize what he meant—not the nickname they all used, but his true name, the one he shared with all the variants despite their divergent paths. "Mark," she whispered again, the sound breathy with want.

The effect was electric. A visible shudder ran through his powerful frame, his hands tightening momentarily on her thighs before he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder, opening her fully to his gaze. He looked up at her once more, his expression a mixture of hunger and something almost like neediness, before he leaned forward.

The first broad stroke of his tongue drew a cry from her lips, her fingers tightening reflexively in his hair. The wet heat of his mouth against her folds was unlike anything she'd experienced before, his skilled movements somehow both gentle and demanding at once. Mohawk—Mark—groaned against her in response, the vibration adding another layer of sensation that had her trembling against the wall.

"So fucking responsive," he murmured, his breath hot against her sensitive flesh. He parted her lower lips with his fingers, revealing her swollen bud to his eager mouth. "Can't wait to devour this sweet pussy," he growled before sealing his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and sucking with deliberate pressure.

Y/N cried out, her hips bucking involuntarily against his face as pleasure shot through her like lightning. Her fingers tightened in his hair, holding him against her as he feasted upon her clit like a starved man, determined to taste every drop of her essence, his tongue swirling and flicking against her with expert precision, as if memorizing what made her gasp and moan the loudest.

Within moments, he had her writhing against him, her thighs trembling and clenching around his head as he suckled and licked her relentlessly.

"That's it, princess," he murmured against her heated flesh, his voice vibrating against her clit, "Let me hear how good it feels."

Any embarrassment Y/N might have felt at her wet, guttural moans was obliterated by the masterful, filthy work of his tongue—alternating between long, slick strokes that stretched every nerve ending in her cunt and focused, greedy attention on the throbbing bud that had her vision swimming with stars.

Her thighs trembled uncontrollably around his head, slick with her own juices, her fingers alternately clenching and releasing in his hair as wave after wave of pure, raw pleasure slammed through her.

He traced intricate, maddening patterns against her swollen clit, each lick and swirl building upon the last until she was a quivering, whimpering mess plastered against the cold stone, her pussy practically begging for more.

When one thick, calloused finger circled her slick entrance, spreading her dripping lips wide before pressing deliberately inside, a strangled cry tore from her throat, her wet hole already aching for his cock.

"So responsive," Mohawk praised, his voice rough with lust as he looked up at her from between her slick thighs, her juices glistening on his lips and chin like a badge of honor. He slid a second thick finger alongside the first, stretching her wet slit wide as his mouth continued its relentless, greedy assault on her swollen clit.

His thick digits scissored and curled upward, deep within her slick canal, finding that sweet spot that made her vision blur and her legs tremble uncontrollably, her inner walls squeezing him tight. "So fucking perfect for me~"

The combination of his masterful mouth devouring her pussy and the slick, rhythmic invasion of his thick fingers deep inside her wet cunt instantly sent Y/N spiraling toward the precipice. Her breath hitched in short, desperate gasps, her lungs burning as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in her core, a screaming knot of sensation demanding release.

Her back arched violently away from the cold stone, her head thrashing back against it as the pressure built to an unbearable crescendo, her inner walls clenching rhythmically, desperately milking his fingers as her shattering climax loomed. "Mark," she choked out, tugging urgently at his hair, a primal warning. "I'm close—I'm going to cum—"

"That's it," he encouraged, his eyes dark with lust as he watched her face contort in the throes of her impending orgasm, his thick fingers curling deep inside her slick cunt, hitting that precise spot that made her vision swim and her body buck.

"Let go for me, baby. Wanna feel your pussy clench around my fingers, wanna taste every last drop of your sweet cum." His voice was a rough, panting growl, the filthy words themselves. "Come for me, princess. Wanna feel you fucking shatter on my tongue," he urged against her wet lips, his breath hot and ragged. "Paint my fucking face with your delicious cum."

His filthy words, combined with a particularly clever flick of his tongue against her swollen clit, sent her hurtling over the edge, volcanic waves of pure sensation washing through her with such overwhelming intensity that her knees threatened to buckle had his grip on her hip not been her only anchor.

Her entire body tensed, every muscle clenching before releasing in shuddering spasms, waves of pure pleasure radiating outward from her core.

“M-mark~!” She cried out his name, a raw, primal sound of utter release, as her hips bucked uncontrollably against his face, her juicy cunt spasming around his eager mouth as he relentlessly licked and suckled her sensitive nub, greedily slurping up every drop of her sweet nectar that squirted out in thick, pulsing streams.

When he finally pulled back, his whole lower face glistened with the pearly evidence of her explosive orgasm, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

He licked his lips slowly, deliberately savoring her unique taste like a prized treat, a low, hum rumbling in his chest that sent a shiver of renewed longing through her still-quivering body. "Even sweeter than I ever fucking imagined," he growled, pressing one last, lingering kiss to her swollen clit before rising to his full height.

Mohawk stood up slowly, his hard body pressing intimately against hers as Y/N reached for him, her hands trembling slightly as she pulled his face down to hers. He captured her lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plunging deep into her mouth, letting her taste her own slickness mingled with his raw hunger.

One large hand slid up her side, cupping the swollen weight of her breast, his thumb kneading the ultrasensitive flesh as he devoured her mouth. He could feel her nipples hardening instantly against his palm, and he pinched and rolled the already erect peaks between his fingers, eliciting a soft moan against his lips.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in ragged gasps as they both tried to catch their breath, "Fuck, that was incredible," he murmured, his voice low and rough, a possessive glint in his heated gaze. "Love yo-mngh, princess.” Y/N giggled, licking his slobbery saliva off her lips, the taste of their mingled juices igniting a fresh wave of heat in her belly. Her hands, slid down his sweat-slicked chest, her fingers already fumbling with the drawstring of his pants like a mischievous little imp.

This time, Mohawk didn't stop her. His breathing quickened visibly, chest rising and falling rapidly as he watched with heavy-lidded eyes as she eagerly untied the drawstring, pushing the thick fabric down over his powerful thighs. A dark, enticing happy trail of hair led down from his navel to the dense, dark bush that framed his impressive groin.

His magnificent manhood sprang free, a solid eight and a half inches of thick, heavy flesh corded with prominent veins that pulsed with his potent arousal. The sensitive tip was flushed a deep pink and glistened with a generous amount of pre-cum, a slick, eager sheen that had been steadily leaking in anticipation of her touch, like a drooling puppy waiting for a treat. Below, his heavy balls swung low, full and weighty, practically begging for her attention.

"See something you like, you little tease?" he asked, voice rough with desire despite the playful words. A flush had spread across his cheeks.

Y/N smirked, her eyes sparkling with naughty delight as she wrapped her hand around his thick shaft in answer, reveling in the solid weight and radiating heat of him against her palm. Her fingers barely spanned his impressive girth, making her chuckle softly. He moaned softly into her ear, his eyes fluttering briefly closed at her touch. The hard length of him throbbed insistently against her palm, hot and heavy and somehow both impossibly hard and surprisingly velvety soft at once.

Mohawk's eyes darkened with raw lust as she stroked his aching length, a low, guttural groan rumbling in his chest at her caress. He could feel every delicate curve of her soft hand wrapped around him. The sensation of her thumb spreading his slick pre-cum down his veined shaft sent electric sparks of pure pleasure shooting through his body, his hips rocking slightly, involuntarily, into her teasing touch.

"Definitely," she replied, stroking him slowly from the thick base to the sensitive, glistening tip. She collected the abundant moisture at his flushed pink head with her thumb, spreading it down his corded shaft as she continued her slow, deliberate, and utterly wicked exploration. "Though I'm not entirely convinced all of this is going to fit... comfortably."

Mohawk's laugh was strained, his abdominal muscles rippling as he struggled to maintain control, his hips jerking slightly into her caressing touch. "Fuck, princess," he groaned, his hips jerking slightly into her hand. "Keep that up and this'll be over before it starts, and I've got a whole night planned to properly worship that sweet pussy of yours." His hands moved to her waist, gripping tightly as though anchoring himself. "We'll make it work," he promised, capturing her mouth in another hungry kiss. "Always do. One way or another, you're going to take every inch of me."

Mohawk broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he looked down at her with a possessive hunger blazing in his eyes. He captured her mouth in another searing kiss, his tongue plunging deep as he ground his hard cock against her slick folds.

He could feel the heat radiating from her soaked vulva, her inner lips glistening and already slick with her own release from where he'd pleasured her earlier, droplets of her cum tracing wet, inviting paths down her thighs.

"Wrap your legs around me, princess," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "I'm going to fuck you against this wall until you scream." He lifted her again, this time with her full cooperation, her legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed her back against the wall.

The muscles in his arms bulged with the effort, veins standing out prominently beneath his skin. The new position brought the hot, blunt head of his arousal directly against her entrance, the slight pressure there making her gasp in anticipation. The head nudged against her outer lips, hot and insistent but not yet breaching, teasing her.

"Now… just making sure, are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. A fine sheen of sweat covered his chest, his muscles trembling with the effort of restraint.

"We can stop—" Y/N silenced him with a deep kiss, her hands framing his face, thumbs stroking over his rough cheekbones. Then, with deliberate slowness, she began to rock her hips forward, nudging herself against the slick, leaking tip of his cock.

A low moan escaped Mohawk's throat, his powerful body shuddering against hers. He was forced to break the kiss, a glistening strand of saliva connecting their parted lips as he looked down at her, his jaw clenched, every muscle in his body straining with the effort of holding back from simply pounding into her.

Her movements coated him in her abundant arousal before she finally notched his swollen head at her entrance. The stretch was delicious, her body already slick and ready from his earlier attention. "I've never been more sure of anything," she assured him, hands cradling his face as she stared directly into his eyes. "I want you, Mark. All of you."

Something vulnerable flashed across his features —a fleeting moment of pure, unguarded emotion that made her heart constrict in her chest—before he nodded, one hand coming up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, his fingertips surprisingly gentle against her skin.

"Hold onto me," he instructed, his voice thick with suppressed desire, waiting until her arms were securely wrapped around his neck, her fingers tangling in the short, rough strands of his mohawk, before he began to slowly push his hips upward. The initial stretch was intense but not painful, Mohawk's earlier attentions having prepared her body.

A strangled sound, a mixture of anticipation and slight discomfort, escaped her throat as he filled her inch by exquisite inch, the sensation of such fullness felt both foreign and perfectly right.

He entered her with agonizing slowness, giving her body time to adjust to his considerable size, his breath coming in harsh, ragged pants against her neck as he fought a visible battle for control, his muscles trembling with the effort of restraint. Mohawk's eyes fluttered shut, his lips pressed into a thin line as he savored the sensation of her tight, slick heat enveloping his cock, her inner walls clenching and fluttering around his throbbing length like a silken vise.

He could feel every delicate ridge and curve of her canal molding itself around him, could feel the subtle way her body stretched and yielded to accommodate his considerable size. It was a torturously delicious sensation, one that had him gritting his teeth, every nerve ending screaming for release, as he fought to maintain his measured pace.

"Fuck," he groaned when he was finally seated to the hilt, their bodies connected as intimately as possible. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his entire body trembling with the effort of remaining still. He remained perfectly motionless for a long moment, allowing her canal to fully accommodate his large size, his forehead dropping to rest against hers as he savored the feeling of her tight, wet heat gripping him like a vise. "So fucking tight and perfect, like your cunt was made just for my cock."

Y/N could only nod, overwhelmed by the fullness, by the heat of him stretching her from within. Her walls fluttered around him, adjusting to his presence. When he began to move, drawing out slowly until just the tip remained inside her before carefully pushing back in, she gasped at the exquisite friction, at the way he seemed to find and ignite every sensitive nerve ending within her.

The wet, slick sounds of their joining filled the small space as he withdrew almost completely, the head of his engorged penis teasing her again and again. Opening before he slammed back in, burying himself to the hilt. Sharp crys tore from Y/N's throat, her nails digging into his shoulders as he began to pound into her willing body with a hard, fast pace that stole her breath.

"Mark," she breathed, the name falling from her lips like a prayer, her head thrown back against the cold stone wall as he took her. Each powerful thrust sent sparks of raw ecstasy through her, her body bouncing against the unyielding surface with the force of his movements. She could feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock dragging along her sensitive inner walls, stretching her in the most delicious way, filling her completely with a sensation so profound it bordered on overwhelming.

"Mine," he growled, the word rumbling from deep in his chest as his hips snapped forward with renewed purpose, his powerful frame caging her against the unyielding wall. His teeth grazed her shoulder, marking her with a sharp bite. His hands gripped her ass roughly, squeezing the firm flesh as he fucked her harder against the cold stone.

He leaned in, his mouth latching onto one of her nipples, sucking hard as he rammed his thick cock deeper, hitting that exquisite G-spot that sent blinding bursts of light behind her eyelids. "Say it again," he demanded, punctuating the words with a particularly deep thrust that made her vision swim.

"Mark," she repeated, gasping as he increased his pace, one large hand sliding beneath her to adjust the angle for even deeper penetration. His rhythm grew urgent, each powerful thrust driving her closer to the shattering edge.

The new angle allowed his thick member to strike that precise point within her cunt, sending jolts of pure electricity through her trembling body. Her nails raked down his sweat-slicked back, leaving fiery trails in their wake as his thick length plunged even deeper into her tight canal, dragging against those hidden nerves that ignited a fresh wave of intense, almost unbearable pleasure. "Oh god, Mark!"

"Fuck, princess," he groaned, his voice tight with strain and barely restrained desire. "You're so fucking perfect, so tight and hot around my cock. I can feel your pussy squeezing me, milking my fucking dick." The wet slap of skin against skin punctuated his words, the sodden squelch of her intense arousal a visceral soundtrack to his deep thrusts.

His rhythm grew urgent, demanding. Each fuck was a raw, powerful claim, driving him deeper. Sweat slicked his sculpted chest, catching the firelight as the defined muscles bunched and flexed with each forceful movement. His gaze locked on her face, devouring every raw flicker of pleasure that contorted her features.

The sounds of their sex filled the kitchen—the wet smack of their bodies colliding, her sharp, escalating moans, his guttural growls of raw satisfaction as her inner walls clenched convulsively around his invading member.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated deep within her. "Take what you need from me. Use my cock to make yourself feel good. I want to feel you come apart on my dick, want to watch you fucking shatter!" His crude words, thick with a raw, sent a searing jolt of pure sensation flooding her core, her cunt clenching down around him.

Sweat dripped down Mohawk's chiseled chest and abs, highlighting every ridge and valley of muscle as they flexed and bunched with each powerful thrust. The tendons in his neck stood out, corded and taut as he fought to maintain control, his jaw clenched tight as he watched her with a wild, almost feral intensity. Every flicker of pleasure that crossed her face, every breathless moan and gasp that fell from her lips seemed to spur him on, driving him to take her harder, faster, deeper.

Y/N was beyond coherent thought, her body arching instinctively with each brutal thrust, her skin flushed and slick with a sheen of sweat that made her practically glow in the dim light. Her head was thrown back against the unyielding wall, exposing the vulnerable column of her throat which he immediately attacked with hot lips and sharp teeth, lost in the escalating pleasure as Mohawk fucked her with increasingly violent force.

The dual assault of his mouth at her throat and his thick cock pounding deep within her overwhelmed her senses, pleasure building in relentless, shattering waves. Mohawk's hand snaked between their sweat-slicked bodies, his calloused fingers finding her aching, swollen clit with unerring accuracy.

He circled the sensitive bundle of nerves with a pressure and speed that had her seeing stars, her back arching clean off the wall as a scream tore from her throat a second, involuntary orgasm seizing her with shocking intensity.

"That's it," he growled against her throat, his voice hoarse with raw desire as he felt her body begin to convulse around him. "Let go for me, my love. Want to feel you come apart around my cock."

Mohawk growled his approval as her pussy pulsed around him, the rhythmic contractions of her internal muscles drawing a strangled groan from deep within his chest. The sound was primal, deeply satisfied, as his fingers continued their relentless torment on her sensitive nub even as she shuddered and squeezed around his length, drawing out her pleasure until tears stung the corners of her eyes.

Her vision blurred as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed through her, each one more intense than the last as his skilled fingers refused to relent.

His thrusting faltered briefly before becoming almost punishing in its precision. "Aggh~ p-perfect," he gasped against her throat. "So fucking tight when y-you come, squeezing my cock like you never want to let go, you love me so much! Nnnhg~"

His breath came in harsh pants against her skin, his powerful body trembling with the effort of prolonging her exquisite torment before seeking his own explosive release. His words were crude but reverent, awe evident in every syllable. "So fucking perfect for me."

His thrusts grew erratic, his breathing harsh against her neck as he chased his own imminent climax. The powerful muscles of his back bunched and flexed beneath her slick hands, sweat making his skin even more slippery as he fucked her with increasing urgency, his thick length dragging against her G-spot with each desperate plunge. "Y/N nngh~!" he groaned, the sound of her name torn from his throat with a moan, "Need you my love~! Mmm-ahh a-always needed you."

"I'm h-here," she promised, cradling his sweat-slicked face between her trembling palms, forcing him to meet her glazed eyes as his control finally shattered. His eyes were wild with pure, unadulterated pleasure and something deeper, something akin to worship as he stared down at her. "Mppf~! I'm r-right here."

Something primal breaks in his expression at her words—the last vestiges of his control shattering as he buries his thick cock to the hilt with a hoarse, guttural shout of her name. His entire body shudders violently as he pulses deep within her cunt, the hot, thick rush of his cum triggering an earth-shattering aftershock of pleasure that has her screaming his name.

He roars, his body convulsing above her as he empties his seed into her dripping pussy, each powerful jet painting her insides slick and white with his fuck-juice, making it all thick and cloying. The raw sensation of him coming undone, his powerful frame shaking with the force of his climax, sends Y/N spiraling over the precipice with him, her own cum leaking out, mixing with his.

She screams his name as she comes, her body convulsing almost violently beneath him in a mind-blowing orgasm. Wave after wave of pure, undiluted ecstasy washes over her, her vision going white as she clings to him, riding out the intense pleasure radiating from her core. She can feel his swollen member still throbbing deep inside her, prolonging her exquisite torment as he continues to flood her tight little hole with his seed, making it all wet and sticky.

For long moments afterward, they remain locked together, Mohawk's forehead resting against hers as they both fight to draw ragged breaths. His heart hammers against her chest, his powerful arms trembling slightly as they hold her pinned against the wall.

When he finally eases her down, her legs shaking uncontrollably as they take her weight again, she can feel the thick, sticky mixture of their juices beginning to ooze from her slick, fucked pussy, a warm, undeniable testament to their explosive union, leaving a glistening trail down her thighs.

As he slowly withdraws his cock from her soaked cunt, it slides out with a wet, sighing sound, coated in the glistening blend of their mingled fluids, a thick, viscous string connecting them for a fleeting moment before parting, leaving her feeling deliciously empty and thoroughly used. He keeps her close within the circle of his possessive embrace, his eyes dark with a primal satisfaction.

"F-fuck…That was..." he begins, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

"Worth the wait?" Y/N suggests, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Mohawk's answering smile is softer than any expression she's shown him before. He traces her lower lip with his thumb, his touch gentle despite the roughness of his calloused skin.

"Worth everything," he corrects, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to her forehead. "Worth every goddamn minute of waiting. Fucking incredible." He brushes a sweat-dampened strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek.

He cups her face in his large, calloused hand, his thumb brushing over her plump bottom lip. "Don't think I've ever come that hard in my life," he admits, his voice low and rough, still tinged with the remnants of his intense climax. "The way you came apart in my arms...fuck, it was beautiful. You're beautiful…god I love you, you sticky little mess." The tenderness in his voice, so at odds with his typically brash demeanor, makes something warm bloom in Y/N's chest. She leans into him, savoring the solid strength of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her ear.

"We should probably actually make dinner at some point," she mused after a comfortable silence, reluctant to break the moment but aware that the others would be wondering about their absence.

Mohawk chuckled, the sound rumbling pleasantly through his chest where her head rested. "Probably," he agreed, making no move to release her. Instead, his hand came up to stroke through her hair with surprising gentleness.

His fingers worked through the tangles their activities had created, massaging her scalp in a way that had her practically purring against him. "Though I can think of better ways to work up an appetite. Involving more licking, more fucking, and definitely less cooking."

Y/N tilted her head back to meet his gaze, finding his eyes warm with a mixture of satisfaction and renewed interest, a definite glint of mischief sparking within them. "Is that so?"

"Mmm," he confirmed, bending to brush his lips against hers in a kiss far more tender than she would have expected from him. His tongue traced the seam of her lips without demanding entry, a gentle request rather than the dominant claim of before. "But maybe somewhere more comfortable this time? My knees aren't what they used to be, princess. Especially after all that kneeling I did to properly worship your sweet pussy."

Y/N laughed, the sound bright and genuine in the warm kitchen air.

"Your chambers or mine?" she asked, delighting in the way his eyes darkened with possessive hunger at the suggestion.

"Mine," he growled possessively, his hand sliding down to squeeze her backside, his thumb digging playfully into the curve of her ass. "My bed's bigger, and I want plenty of room to spread you out and take my time with you properly. Lick you until you're screaming my name again, princess. And then fuck you every which way until neither of us can see straight." He was already reaching for her discarded clothing. "Because princess, I'm nowhere near done with you yet. Not by a long shot. I've got a whole list of dirty things I still want to do to that tight little cunt of yours."

As they hastily dressed her – her legs felt like jelly, completely unwilling to support her weight – Mohawk chuckled, scooping her up into his arms with effortless ease. He carried her from the kitchen, the half-prepared dinner forgotten behind them, a possessive gleam in his eyes as he headed towards his chambers.

Y/N couldn't help but think that some bets were worth losing—especially when the payoff was so unexpectedly perfect, and promised so much more to come.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Hours later, when Mohawk finally carried Y/N from his chambers—disheveled and glowing with utter satisfaction, love bites a blatant roadmap of his desire across her neck and whole body, while his bad was littered with raw scratches, a testament to her own passionate grip—they found the common area suspiciously empty save for a platter of neatly arranged food and a note in No-Mask's precise handwriting:

"Since dinner preparations were evidently... thoroughly interrupted, we took the liberty of preparing an alternative meal. Lensless insisted we leave enough for two. Enjoy (and maybe hose down the kitchen floor later?)."

Below that, in a different, more flamboyant script that could only belong to Sinister:

"Do try to keep the noise down next time, dove. Some of us are trying to sleep. Though the walls were certainly vibrating with a new level of... intensity. But let's be honest, we all know who first taught you how to truly scream, don’t we dove~?"

And finally, a hastily scrawled addition in what appeared to be Omni Mark's controlled handwriting:

"Take your time. You've both earned it."

Mohawk read the note over her shoulder, his bark of laughter surprising but welcome against her ear. His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her against the solid warmth of his chest as he nuzzled the sensitive spot behind her ear. "Look at that," he mused, arms tightening around her waist. "The bastards can be considerate when they want to be. Prickly Sinister aside."

Y/N leaned back against his solid warmth, a deep contentment settling in her bones, a pleasant ache still throbbing between her thighs, making walking a distant memory. "Wonders never cease," she agreed, turning her head to press a gentle kiss to the underside of his jaw, her slightly damp hair brushing against his cheek. "Though I'm not sure I want to know how they knew what we were doing."

"Lensless," they said in unison, then dissolved into laughter that echoed through the fortress halls.

As Mohawk settled at the table with Y/N nestled in his lap, sharing the meal their unlikely family had prepared, she couldn't help but marvel at how far they'd all come—from battle-hardened killers to men who would prepare dinner for their missing companions without complaint (or mostly without complaint, in Sinister's case).

"What are you thinking about?" Mohawk asked, his usual gruffness softened in the aftermath of their shared intimacy, his fingers absently stroking the curve of her hip.

Y/N smiled, reaching across the table to tangle her fingers with his. His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand, the small gesture of affection somehow more intimate than all they had shared before. "That I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."

The look he gave her in response—wonder mixed with disbelief, as if he couldn't quite fathom his good fortune—was worth every hardship, every battle, every moment of uncertainty that had led them to this strange new world and the life they were building together.

"Yeah," he agreed, squeezing her hand gently. "We all are."

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Hoped you liked this... I put a lot into writing.. like so much it is not even funny...

I am getting busy again, and prob won't be updating for a long time :( Hope y'all liked the stories I've been writing and posting. It was originally for me, but it's a pleasure to share!

Hopefully, I'll get the motivation to write Omni-Mark Smut one day🙏

Much love ♡

Pt.1

Pt.2

Lead up series!! (Invincible variants x reader 1-10 parts)

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mountainsandmayhem · 3 days ago

Text

Maid Discreetly - Chapter One

Tommy Miller x Female OC - 18+

Summary: After what he did to your best friend, fuck Joel Miller and the horse he rode in on! But a twist of fate has you falling for his brother, who is also your dad’s friend. Oh, and did you mention that you hate him? Can love really conquer all, or is this just kinky hot sex with an older man? TW: Reader is a fully described female character, the girl in the mood board is not just for vibes, that person will be described in detail. She's badass though, I wish I was her. Eventual smut and open door scenes featuring sub/dom dynamic. Tommy has a filthy mouth and she's a stubborn brat. The slowest of burns. Warnings for this chapter in small red below the cut. AN: First of all, thank you to everyone who made BDSMaid such a success. I expected 2 people to read it (@mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69) but boy oh boy was I wrong! Thank you @for-a-longlongtime for encouraging me and letting me scream about these two and to @lotusbxtch for being in my corner always. I can't believe Joel Miller's fictional cock brought me so many life long friends xo WC: 3.2k

My Masterlist || Story Masterlist || Joel and Kim

CW: swearing; drinking alcohol; parents just being parents, ya know?; Tommy being a dick

You

It’s silly, and completely self indulgent, but the Greater Austin Business Awards has always been a highlight of your year. It’s an evening full of glitz and glamour, of delicious food cooked by Michelin Star chefs, and golden champagne chilled to perfection. Year after year it’s the perfect evening, your dad or Maid Discreetly usually taking home an award. This year though, it was your mom who was going to be honoured. Just like you, she works at Maid Discreetly, her title though is much more impressive than yours. Tonight, she will take home a beautiful glass plaque, etched with her name right below ‘CFO of the Year’. You didn’t think anything would make the night any more idyllic, and nothing could ruin the evening; that is, until you looked at the list of award winners. When your eyes drifted down the nominees another name caught your eye. Your stomach twisted as you read it over again. Listed amongst five other businesses nominated for their outstanding contributions to environmental impact was Joel Miller, JM Construction.

Joel fucking Miller, you thought to yourself. The asshole who broke your best friend's heart almost one year ago was going to be in the same room as you. Not only did he break a girl that you thought was shatter proof, he ruined her chances of getting her law degree here, leaving her with no choice but to move to California. You knew the latter of the argument was dramatic; Kim always imagined herself going to Berkeley, but you missed your best friend and her bubbly, and sweet redheaded ways.

You: Voldemort is nominated for an award Kim: Who? You: I refuse to say his name Kim: LOL you’re so dramatic Kim: Don’t do anything to get you kicked out You: Just some light yelling then? Kim: He’s not worth it. I’m fine, and I’ll show him by becoming more successful than him You: You get me all hot when you talk like that! Miss you. Kim: Miss you too, facetime date soon? I gotta go, just getting to the office.

Kim didn’t not say that you couldn’t say anything, so technically you weren’t going against girl code by ripping Joel a new one - lightly, of course. Truthfully, even if she had forbidden it, it’s not in your nature to not defend your friends or family. Growing up you were always encouraged to speak your mind, and tomorrow night was going to be no different; you just have to get Laren to point Joel out to you.

The next afternoon you meet your mom at the most expensive spa in downtown Austin. This is the aforementioned self indulgent part; your father giving you and your mom his black AMEX and letting you pamper yourselves, not to mention the brand new Chanel dress you bought for the event. You lay on the plush spa bed, your freshly exfoliated, waxed, massaged, and lotioned skin wrapped in a white robe that’s softer than anything you’ve ever felt. The room smells like mint and jasmine, the soothing music washing over you as the aesthetician applies all sorts of lotions to your face. For most, this would be a time to wholly relax, and while every muscle in your body feels heavy, your mind is racing with what exactly you want to say to Joel tonight.

‘Joel? You don’t know me, but I know you. How dare you do that to Kim.’

No, you think to yourself as steam hits your face to open your pores. I really gotta give it to him, make him realize what he fucked up.

‘Are you Joel? How dare you treat the kindest person in the world that way. I curse the day you were born, fuck face.’

Whoa, too mean! You say to yourself. Speaking your mind is natural to you, but being outright mean was never your strong suit. Your last ex was outright awful to you, and where you weren’t afraid to tell him to “fuck all the way off” when he told you that breaking up with him was the dumbest thing you could do, you could never find it in you to attack his character. As if a light bulb goes off, it comes to you. Joel needs your company, not the other way around.

‘Joel? I just wanted to let you know that if you ever speak to one of my maids again, I’ll have you removed as a client. Not that you care, but Kim’s fine, thriving really, no thanks to you. On behalf of her entire friend group, go fuck yourself. You’re a piece of shit.’

You smile to yourself as your facial comes to an end. The stuffy boomers that frequent these events might not appreciate the swearing, you’ll win them over with your smile and charm though if they overhear anything. As you pad down the hall to the hair stylist and makeup artist waiting for you and your mom, you solidify your plans; once Laren points him out, it’s on. Part of you hope’s he has a date with him, all women should know what kind of man he is.

“Where’s Laren?” You ask as you and your mom sit at the posh white and gold table close to the stage a few hours later. The giant centerpiece composed of white roses, pearls and greenery in the middle is so tall that you can barely see the person sitting across from you, a string quartet plays from the corner of the space. The ballroom of the hotel has muted beige walls adorned with gold sconces that cast warm light upwards. The crystal chandeliers around the room are on, but kept dim. This could easily be someone’s wedding instead of a business gala.

The strap of your fitted midnight blue dress slips down your arm as you sit. Your mom places it back on your shoulder with one hand, the other holding her third glass of champagne since arriving twenty minutes ago, as she responds, “She’s not coming. Her and your aunt are sick.”

You slump back slightly in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest. This is going to be nearly impossible now. “Sit up straight, kiddo,” your dad says, his voice soft yet stern.

“I’m almost twenty five,” you state as you straighten and grab your water glass, hoping the cold liquid will extinguish the rush of frustration that courses through you. Without Laren, none of this can happen. You have access to all of Joel Miller's information; his address, phone number, the credit card number the company charges for his cleaning services too. Everything except his identity. Maybe you could ask your dad to point him out? He would have been the one to get him to sign his contract.

Your dad settles in the chair on the other side of your mom as you pull out your phone to try to google Joel again. Just as you open your web browser, your dad leans forward, his hand touches your wrist before he speaks.

“You’ll always be a kid to me,” He says, smiling as your eyes meet his. You force a closed lipped smile back.

And that right there is why asking your dad is out of the question - always a kid. Even though your business degree hangs on the wall of your office, your dad still sees you as that little girl who cried when he dropped you off at your first ballet lesson. You’ve been working for your dad for about eight years. He hired you at seventeen as a maid, and you’ve worked your way up to where you are now, leading the hiring and training departments, as well as coordinating schedules when clients need added services or maids fall sick. Recently, you took on supervising the procurement department, as well. You’re grateful for every promotion and extra task you’ve been given, but what you really want is to help with the client side of things, to start learning how to be your dad, you just aren’t sure he feels the same way.

You spend dinner glancing around the room, hoping to be able to figure out who Joel is. Truthfully, he could be anyone, this whole space is full of wealthy, handsome older men. You press your full, red stained lips together and excuse yourself from the table. Your nude Prada heels click along the floor as you make your way to the bathroom, and you strain your ears as you pass every table for any mention of Joel. After washing your hands you look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing the loose curls of your dark brunette hair that stop just below your shoulders. Your signature winged eyeliner could not have come out more perfect tonight, nor could your staple matte red lip. The clapping of the crowd has you hurrying back to your seat.

You sit on pins and needles as the awards begin, they’re intensified when pictures of each nominee light up the large screen at the back of the stage; win or lose, you’ll know exactly who Joel is now. Butterflies erupt in your stomach when Joel’s category is announced. Pictures of each of the nominees splash across the screen, but when JM Construction is announced it’s just their logo and when Joel doesn’t win you are right back at square one. You down a glass of champagne to wash down the acidic taste of disappointment that lines your mouth. You don’t think you’ve been this dispirited since Santa Claus didn’t bring you the Mia St Clair American Doll in 2008.

Your father presents the award to your mom, and after she dabs at fake tears with her napkin, she hauls you up on stage with her. You feel a cool breeze on the back of your thighs as you climb the stairs, the slit up the back of your pin skirt parting with each step up that you take. Unlike most people, you actually enjoy being in front of groups of people, and the depraved thought that you may have just shown almost all of Austin's most wealthy your ass on your way up the stairs has you fighting a devious smile.

As the awards end, the party begins. You don’t feel like drinking the free wine or champagne, so you head towards the bar. A group of four women meander ahead of you and the urge to push past them is tamed only by the mention of the one name you’ve been trying to catch all evening.

“Yes, same Joel Miller,” the one woman says quietly. “Her husband played poker with him. I heard they had topless waitresses!”

“Clubs like that don’t exist,” says another woman.

You smile to yourself. You were one of those topless servers, and you know clubs like that definitely exist. You’re devastated for Kim, but so very jealous of what she got to experience at JMKink.

“I’d be divorcing him too, that’s disgusting.” That statement comes from a woman with yellow blonde hair and a cross necklace, you recognize her from an obscenely large family photo that used to hang in one of the homes you used to clean. You also remember her from that time you walked in one time on her and her husband having a threeway with the pool boy.

The first woman speaks again, “Heathens. I don’t know how that’s legal! And worse, he’s here and getting nominated for awards.”

The fourth woman, who has been surprisingly quiet the entire time finally pipes up. “He is kind of handsome though.”

Her friends look at her like she just said she was going to marry Ted Bundy or something. “What?” She says defensively, “Obviously what he’s doing is gross, but he is a handsome man. I can see the appeal for young, impressionable women.”

“Trash doesn’t mix with class,” the yellow blonde woman, who was being taken to Paris when you walked in on them says.

You outright scoff at their insinuation that Kim was impressionable when really, women like them are the problem. Prudes and hypocrites

The blonde woman spins to face you. “Do you have a problem?”

“Nope,” you smile at her as her eyes widen in recognition. “Feel like pointing out who this ‘trash’ is, or should I start pointing out ‘trash’, too?” You use air quotes around the word trash, never taking your eyes off her.

It's her turn to scoff now, rolling her eyes. You raise an eyebrow and cock your head at her, silently challenging her. You might not be quick with insults, but you have no issues calling her out, especially since she tried to get you fired, claiming she caught you with the pool boy. Thank god your dad saw right through that and she ended her contract at Maid Discreetly. The few heartbeats of heated silence are broken when she jerks her head towards the corner of the room.

“Black suit and bowtie, leaning against the doorframe,” she says through gritted teeth.

You follow her gaze, eyes landing on Joel. Without another word you spin towards him and start to walk away from the women. This is it, your moment to tell Joel exactly how you feel. You hate that as you get closer you can see exactly why Kim fell in love with him. Tall and broad, with dark hair and eyes; you’re surprised to see she’d fall for a man with a mustache that full, but he pulls it off in the same way cowboys or Tom Selleck does.

You steel your face, repeating your pre-determined lecture in your mind over and over. The click of your heels draws Joel’s attention, and his eyes burn a trail from your toes to your eyes; him checking you out only pisses you off more. You stop in front of him, despising that even in three inch heels you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. This man looks like the type that can show you a good time, really talk you through it, but before he can get a chance to try to charm you, you poke a perfectly manicured finger into his chest and speak.

“Joel? I just wanted to let you know that if ever speak to one of my maids again, I’ll have you removed as a client. Not that you care, but Kim’s fine, thriving really, no thanks to you. On behalf of her entire friend group, go fuck yourself. You’re a piece of shit.”

His hazel brown eyes dance around your face before he smirks.

This motherfucker!

Tommy

Tommy didn’t want to be here, so much so that he stood on the balcony sipping his bourbon as the awards were called. He only stepped inside when he heard the category Joel was nominated in being announced, and when someone else won he let out a relieved whoosh of air, spun around and went back outside. Every person in his room was just trying to prove who was wealthiest; Tommy probably wasn’t even in the top fifty in this room, where Joel easily would have been top five. That nagging voice in his head kept reminding him that he’ll always be in his older brother's shadow.

The awards wrapped up, and after waving down one of the girls handing out champagne and convincing her to bring him another bourbon, he leaned against the column by the door that led to the balcony. He was calculating his exit, as soon as the crowd around the bar cleared he was high tailing the fuck out of here.

Before he even knew what was happening, a sharp fingernail jabbed into his sternum as he was getting yelled at. Now he really didn't want to be here, but fuck was this scrappy brunette in front of him pretty. So pretty that he blocked out most of the words that tumbled from her lips as he watched the flush spread across her cheeks and down her long, soft neck. He stopped himself from thinking just how low that blush went down her chest, even though the sweetheart neckline of her dress was like a beacon to her perky breasts.

He likes a girl with a little fight in her, a girl with confidence and who is unafraid to be herself. This girl, who is currently telling him to go fuck himself, is all of that. Plus, she looks like she walked right out of a 1950’s film; almond shaped green eyes that slowly turn amber as they reach the pupils, full lips painted red, and her pin up style dress that bunches around her curves perfectly. The only thing bringing her into this decade is the slender gold septum ring that sits tight to her slightly upturned nose.

He can’t help himself but to smirk when you finish chewing him out.

“You got the wrong guy,” he says, lowering his voice to a deep timber before adding a mischievous, “Sweetheart.”

You step back and he immediately misses the warmth of your body close to his. “Oh…”

He should stop there, let her apologize and get out of here like he planned. Instead, he steps into your space, dropping his face close to yours and whispering. “I’m his brother,” before turning on his heels, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking outside.

You shock the hell out of him when you say, “Well you can fuck yourself by proxy then!”

Again, he should stop, let it go, but goddamn he wants to see you all riled up and flustered. He turns back to you, his long legs eating up the distance he created in two strides. His dick revels in the little gasp that passes your lips at his sudden movements.

“You know, sweetheart,” his eyes stay locked with yours, “Your little tantrum would be a lot more believable if you weren’t undressing me with your eyes.”

He watches as your jaw goes slack and your cheeks flush an adorable crimson. Were you actually just thinking about him naked, or did he just cross a line? Just in case it’s the latter, he prepares himself for the slap he rightfully deserves.

“What? I wasn’t…how do,” you sputter, trying to form a comeback. “You’re disgusting.”

He smiles again before he watches you spin on the balls of your feet. Perfectly manicured toes showing in the peep toe opening of your heels. The angel on his shoulder begs him to stop, but the devil on the other side tracks the way the slit on the back of your dress flashes the back of your olive tone upper thighs, already sun kissed by the exceptionally warm June Austin has been experiencing.

He clears his throat and then calls after you, “I’m at table twelve if you want to see the real thing.”

He watches the stutter in your step, hoping that you’ll come back and yell again. Instead, he keeps his eyes glued to your ass as you disappear into the crowd. Not until he can no longer see you does he turn around and go back outside.

#tommy miller fanfiction #tommy miller smut #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller tlou #tommy miller #Tommy Miller the last of us #tommy the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us #gabriel luna

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themeraldee · 2 months ago

Text

Sweet Valentine

[Masterlist]

| 3.8k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Fluff. Some silly banter. And a whole lot of kissing and cuddling. Homelander is still Homelander (i.e. thoughts of murder occur on a daily basis, though not aimed at reader). Teeny tiny bit of Homelander trying to get frisky ('trying to' being the keyword here)

Summary: After a week of being spoiled with gifts leading up to Valentine's, you treat Homelander to a surprise of your own.

Author’s Note: This was meant to be done for Valentine's but hey at least it's still (barely) February!

Written for @discowizard88 for this request🩷

That’s just his rotten fucking luck.

Marketing thought it would be a good idea to book his entire week full of appearances, shows, interviews and commercial shoots because they didn’t think he had anything better to do. Fucking imbeciles. He has you now.

He’s been looking forward to this day for months. Throughout your first year together Homelander’s been counting down all the occasions, events and celebrations that he’s not really had a chance to cherish before. Maeve was never the type to accept his grand, downright scripted, romantic gestures. Their last celebrated Valentine’s she all but laughed in his face when he brought her roses. Needless to say, they’ve not celebrated any consequent Valentine’s from that year on out.

But you’re different. You appreciate it, you appreciate him. You turn downright giddy anytime he showers you with gifts and love. He was more than ready to smother you in love on this day. It’s a day for lovers, after all, what good would it be if he wasted that opportunity.

He planned it all out. Valentine’s day was gonna be big. As if you could expect anything less from him. And while the gifts kept coming, so did the TV appearances and commercial shoots.

It took one blink for the entire week to be pretty much over without him getting to participate in many of the activities he had planned.

Homelander hasn’t felt this frustrated in a while. While he tried his best to move the schedule around, Madelyn was adamant about the importance these event had on his image and he couldn’t do much but grit his teeth and comply lest he upset her. But why doesn’t she see how important this is to him? Isn’t it obvious?

He feels his eyes twitch. His smile becomes tighter, strained. Easily turning from his TV smile to the threatening grimace it truly is. These fucking photoshoots are beneath him. As if he doesn't have anything better to do than to stand here for hours until they've taken thousands of photos of him.

His irritation rises with each click of the camera, each flash blinding his eyes. He barely notices the way his eyes subtly heat up over the sound of ringing his ears. He's seconds away from blasting a hole straight through the camera lens and the photographer's brain. The urge to let go is strong, so strong in fact he can already imagine the bitter scent of burning wafting through the air.

Only thing that takes him out of his irritation is a subtle vibration against his leg signaling a new message. He instantly knows it's from you, nobody else gets texting privileges. Heat blooms in his chest. Just the thought of your attention brings back a genuine smile.

He graces the crew with a smile that really is meant for you.

“Sorry folks, I gotta take five.” His lips are stretched into that awkward thin-lipped smile and he puts his hands up in a faux-apologetic gesture. He steps off the backdrop to the side, already fishing out his phone from the hidden pocket he had the costume department sew in. They carved out a space in the fake musculature of the suit so it fit right in without leaving an awkward rectangular outline in what's meant to be a skin tight suit.

He unlocks his phone, greeted with the sickly sweet photo of the two of you. Sometimes this joy feels like his little secret. A vindictive joy against the odds.

Come to the cabin when you're free. I've got a surprise for you ❤️

Even a simple message from you causes the weight on his chest to drop, dissolving his anger immediately.

Aren't you a saint? Unknowingly you've just saved the entire studio. And they don't even know how grateful they should be that he has you.

And with a promise like that he can't really stand to have one more photo taken. He slips his phone back into his pocket, turning around with a swish of his cape.

“Whoopsie-daisy, gonna have to cut this short, the city calls for my help. You know how it is, the criminals just looove to push their luck. Anyway, you got enough right? Yeah? yeah I thought so." He makes some broad gestures with a solidifying thumbs-up as if he was committing to a deal and salutes with a, "Alright. Laters.” He talks fast enough to shut any critical comments down before they even have a chance to spill from their worthless mouths.

With a quick glance to the corner of the room where Ashley is already standing anxiously arrow-straight, he doesn’t need to say anything to know that she will fight and bargain to save the situation to the best of her meagre abilities. However the fuck she does is not his problem, not like he needs to explain himself.

He doesn't wait to see the other people’s reactions, already eager to lose the watchful eyes of the crew and the camera lens. He downright stomps his way out of the studio and at the first glimpse of the bright blue sky he takes off, kicking off the ground with an obnoxious boom that rattles the foundations of nearby buildings.

He’s giddy with excitement. As he rips through the clouds, the wind pulling his hair back, slashing through the gelled cast, he can’t take that smile off his face. The adrenaline-like rush he feels in his gut over your surprise is new. It’s exciting! He doesn’t remember the last time somebody treated him to an honest-to-god surprise. A proper one at least. None of the slimy corporate schmoozing.

He reaches the location in record speed, just under seven minutes—though it still feels like forever. But the excitement clouds his vision and suddenly he’s barrelling down the atmosphere, seconds away from performing one of his ostentatious landings and exploding the ground around him. He catches himself last second, putting his heel first as an emergency break.

His landing is clumsy. He staggers as soon as his foot hits the ground, kicking up the leaves around him into the air. He regains his balance at the last tremble of his foot, sparing himself the embarrassment of a failed landing—one he hasn’t experienced since the lab days.

God, now look at his pathetic simpering self.

Literally falling head over heels because you blew your whistle. Like a needy puppy he races to you, zipping through all obstacles, unwilling to lose a single second of the allocated time he gets to spend with you.

The sweetheart you are, you’d probably praise him for it anyway and kiss his boo-boo away. That thought alone makes him rethink the fall. Not that he can actually get scraped by a measly rough landing. Though, maybe the extra attention is worth the damage it would do to his ego.

“Woaaah, you okay?” Before he’s had a chance to look around and lock his eyes on you, you’re in his field of vision by your own doing. Quick footsteps, muffled by the leaves covering the ground become louder and louder until you’ve got your arms wrapped around one of his, helping him up. As if he actually needed it. He’s so charmed by the way you treat him as if he were fine china.

You give an awkward little chuckle. “Don’t want you getting hurt because of me.”

Overcome with surging emotions, Homelander pulls you closer, both of his hands cupping your cheeks as he gives you a big sappy kiss. It’s as much a hello as it is a I love you with all my heart.

Now that his heart is satisfied, for the time being at least, he lets you go. Immediately tempted to dive in for more after he sees your flustered face, all giddy twitches to the corners of your lips as you look everywhere but him. Almost embarrassed that somebody might see you two kiss so passionately.

Yeah, he can’t let you go without more. He pulls you in again, and this time his kisses are silly. Loud with a wet mwah each time he presses a kiss to a different part of your face. Your cheeks, nose, forehead, chin and lips don’t stand a chance. This time his kisses do force flustered giggles out of you, a squeak or two after he squishes your cheeks with his numerous kisses. Good luck keeping count with him around.

Oh how he missed you. This week has been nothing but one item on Vought’s itinerary after another and his hunger for you and your love has been growing each passing second he spends in your absence.

You finally manage to push him away, the rapid-fire smooching already getting you ticklish and wobbly. Not that he wouldn’t catch you should his affection be too much for you. Of course then you really couldn’t escape the descent of affection he had to give.

But he’s a merciful god, and he lets you create some distance. Satisfied, he watches your giggles slowly die out as you look every bit in love. “Hey,” you finally break your loving eye contact and you reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Hey, you.” He echoes, his smile equally fond, eyes crinkling with genuine joy.

“You got here very quickly.” You note. Both a little impressed and suspicious. He’s very aware of the way your thumb is rubbing over his glove. Though dulled through the leather, each stroke makes his heart gain a little momentum.

“Well, you know,” he waves his free hand in the air, “the shoot was just wrapping up. I left as soon as I could. Wouldn’t wanna miss our secret little rendezvous.” The fact that he was close to burning down the studio is a little detail you don’t need to be privy to. Though at this point, you can probably tell.

“Speaking of,” Homelander continues. “There you go, summoning me to a quiet, middle of nowhere, cabin in the woods. Mind enlightening me what’s all this about? What kind of naughty plans has your pretty little head cooked up that require total isolation, huh?” His grin is sharp and he by no means hides the immediate thoughts running through his head.

“First of all, this is your cabin. Not some middle of nowhere. Second of all, get your mind out of the gutter—now.” Even through your scolding you giggle, grinning at him as you walk backwards, dragging him with you.

Turning just around the end of the cabin presents a sweet sight. On the soft grass lies a picnic blanket, adorned with a woven basket, a colourful spread of food, pillows, and even a bunch of roses. As if taken straight from a romance novel.

Except, this is real. Unlike most of his previous love life.

“Tada! Happy Valentine’s day!” You let his hand go and you raise your arms in the air at the reveal. Right along with your pretty glittering smile. The joy of this moment feels unreal. Is this really happening? Is this really his life these days? He can’t remember a time when he last experienced a joy this pure that wasn’t with you.

“W-uh-what? You put all of this together?” He’s a little shell-shocked. After a busy week, filled with more work than time with you—much to his displeasure—this feels like an oasis. He’s been parched all week, dragging through the desert that was working for Vought and here you come, rescuing him with the most delicious sip of water. Well, more like a whole reservoir of it.

“I had a teeny tiny bit of help but yeah,” you pinch your fingers together to show just how little help you’ve had.

“I had to make it a secret! And you’ve been treating me so well all week, I had to have a little surprise for you too.” He can’t tell which one of you is more excited. You look more excited with your near ‘skipping to the picnic blanket’ attitude, but his heart is hammering against his ribcage with this overwhelming joy he’s not felt in a while. He still so easily gets disarmed by all the ways you show your love. This is just another cherry on top of what feels like an infinitely tiered cake that is your relationship. Each time he thinks you surely don’t have more to give, you go and add another tier or another cherry. Sweeting his sour life, one moment at a time.

“Come on,” you walk—no, skip—back to him, aiming to grasp both of his hands. Homelander catches you right before you manage to, one arm around your waist, the other supporting the back of your head and just like that you’re yet again caught in the web that are his kisses. He presses his lips firmly against yours, waiting for you to relax, letting him have his way with your now-parted lips. With pleased little sighs and long hums in between, he renders your legs into a jelly-like state, supporting your weight effortlessly.

“I love you,” he breathes out heavily when he finally pulls away, his forehead pressed against yours.

“I love you too,” you catch your breath. The smile you offer up steals his heart a hundred times over, while the sped up pitter-patter of your heart soothes him. You’re just as enamored by him as he is by you.

“Let’s enjoy this together.” He lets you take his hands this time as you walk him to the picnic. You sit down first, carving out a space for the two of you, impatiently patting the area next to you. Homelander takes care to move his cape out of the way while not knocking anything over or covering anything up.

“I hope your calendar is free the entire weekend because I brought a lot of food, drinks, blankets and movies and I plan to spend all this time spoiling you.”

“I thought it was the gentleman’s job to spoil his lady.” He looks at you fondly, one wouldn’t even recognise him like this. Though most haven’t earned this reaction from him. You have.

“What can I say, I’m all for gender equality. So just let me spoil you for once.”

“Alright then missy, let’s see what you’ve got.” He’s lying on his side, propped up on his elbow.

While you reach for the furthest tray filled with all sorts of sweets and finger food, Homelander looks around at all that you’ve prepared, curiously picking up an iced cookie.

“Are these… our initials?” He asks after he inspects the heart shaped cookie from each side before biting into it. They’re clearly custom made with the love for each other in mind, but the idea of you ordering these from a bakery makes him chuckle. What’s next, are you gonna get him to carve out your initials into a tree?

Well, he definitely could.

Maybe, he should.

He could carve out your initials into the moon if you asked him to.

“Cheesy, I know.”

“Sweet too, just like you.”

“I take it back, you’re a whole league ahead of the cookies.” You deadpan.

“Come on babe, when else if not on Valentine’s day? Cut me some slack.” He was gonna put the rest of the cookie down, not wanting to overwhelm himself with too much sugar but seeing his initial all alone now that he’s bitten off your letter looks too sad for his liking. He pops the rest of the cookie in his mouth, wiping off the crumbs with his glove.

“Now, now. Don’t get too full on cookies. I’ve got more for you.” You pluck a chocolate covered strawberry from a tray. “Here, open up.” You hold the chocolate covered tip of the strawberry close to his lips, waiting for him to take a bite. It’s only appropriate for a man of god-like status like him to be fed and worshipped by his love. You always fill that role so well. His most devout one.

He bites half of it, letting you eat the rest. You put the green top back onto the tray when you’re done with your portion.

“You know I’ve never had those before.” He says after a thorough tasting session.

You have the audacity to look at him like he’s grown another head.

“You’re fucking with me. You’ve never had chocolate strawberries?” Your face scrunches in disbelief as you speak over a mouthful of goodness.

“I’ve had chocolate. I’ve had strawberries. Obviously. Just never together.” He shakes his head a little, acting as if you’re the crazy one.

“Wow. Okay. We’re gonna have to explore this bizarre list of things you’ve never had before.” Indulgently you go for another one, and he takes another mental note of your likes.

When he says nothing you prompt him with, “Well? What’s the verdict? Is it everything you’ve ever imagined?”

“Did you make them?” He asks, confusing you, instead of actually answering your question.

“No, I picked them up from the same bakery I got the cookies from.”

“Okay good, well, it’s not my favourite. Sorry to disappoint you there.” He clasps his hands together as he looks at you with a terribly fake apologetic smile.

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. Were you about to lie to me if I said I did make them?”

He sputters, blowing a raspberry as he looks away, pretending to just be scoping out the place.

“Who, me? No, never!” He feigns innocence without actually putting any of his acting chops behind the gesture.

“You ass!” You gently smack his chest. “What didn’t you like about it?” Now that you know he’s not a fan, you eagerly hog the tray, scoffing down one strawberry after another.

“The taste is fine enough. It’s the texture that’s all wrong. Mushy and crunchy at the same time is just, bleugh.” He shakes his head a little bit as if disgusted, acting all dramatic. He’d happily be seen as silly and dramatic if it gets you to laugh as joyously and heartily as it does this time.

When your chuckles die out, you call him out. “Fussy. Oh well, more for me.”

He takes his time. Watching over you closely as you enjoy your sweet little red treats.

“You know what would taste better?”

“Hmm?” You hum absentmindedly, putting the tray away after discarding another leafy top.

“You.” He pulls you down to his level when your hands are free, lying you across the top of him.

You yelp at the sudden pull. After you settle on top of him a little better, you mumble. “I taste just like the strawberries!”

“Mhm, but you feel a hell of a lot better. C’mere.” Just like that, he’s kissing you again. His hands can’t decide where to hold you so they slide around your back, your hips—stealing a cheeky squeeze of your ass, shocking a little nip to his lip from you—and all the way around your neck, head and arms. His hands are just as greedy for you as his lips are.

And you were right. You do taste like strawberries and chocolate. The hint of sweet and delicious alongside the taste of you that he so loves. You don’t take his kisses as seriously. Giggling and wobbling on top of him.

You pull away with a burst of giggles at the awkward position. You’re almost spread entirely across him, limb to limb. Body part to body part. It’s admittedly a little silly looking. Like two people making snow angels on top of one another. But still, the effortlessness that comes with the sounds you make, swells his heart with fondness.

You reach your arm out into the woven wicker basket and pull out a can of whipped cream.

“Well if you don’t like the chocolate ones, I’ve got some whipped cream for you.” Except instead of covering one of the fresh strawberries, you squirt a dollop of cream at the tip of his nose.

Homelander’s bewildered at your child-like actions. Especially so, when you lick the cream off with a disgusting slurp.

“Welp, now you’ve done it.” He easily wrestles you for the can without needing to use even an ounce of his strength, twisting the two of you around.

He manages to knock over some of your pretty trays but he can’t force himself to care. Now when you’re underneath him.

You look so pretty like this.

Happily taking your place underneath him, cheeks puffed up with your laughter, lips in a constant wide grin. Your happiness around him makes you the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. He has to stop himself from descending on you with another avalanche of kisses, instead opting for continuing this playful little wrestling match you got yourselves into.

Homelander squirts the cream in a line over your lips, licking and kissing it off in between the laughter that still shakes your body. He leaves your lips leaving all sticky and improperly cleaned. This distracts you well enough for him to draw a line from your neck to your cleavage.

With a scandalous shriek you try to push him away. “Oh my god are you crazy, not out here!”

You squeak even more when you feel the cream land in between your breasts, spreading across your skin as it slowly warms up and turns liquid.

“There is literally nobody out here. I’d hear them.” Or well, let’s be real. He’d burn their eyes out for accidentally seeing you in a mildly compromising position, he wants to add but chooses to keep the moment sweet for your sake.

Obscenely, he licks up all the cream he covered you with. No matter how much you act as if this is the filthiest thing he’s ever done. There are plenty more filthier things he’s got planned with this whipped cream. Suddenly you’ve opened up a whole world of possibilities he hasn’t thought of before.

Thinking he’s already got you hook, line and sinker as soon as his tongue hits your skin, he’s in for another surprise when you don’t give in as easily. You manage to snag the can from his hand right before he gets any further.

“If you want to continue this, we’re gonna have to pack all of this up and take it indoors.” You threaten as if you were scolding a child.

"Fine. We can stay here." Finally, with a huff, he drops his advances, instead dropping his weight on you for a second before readjusting your position. Really, he’s glad that you have a mind of your own. Which isn’t something he can say for most of the people he’s surrounded with.

“See, this is nice.” You pull yourself up a little so that his head rests on your stomach. You take a deep breath, exhaling slowly and he enjoys the slow rise and fall of your torso. To have someone so alive and eager with him really feels like the best Valentine’s day gift. That sickly sweet dimpled little fruit could never compare.

So yeah. It is nice. Really nice.

Your fingers cradle through his locks, gently breaking apart the hair product the styling team piled on for his photoshoot. He hums his pleased approval into the softness of your stomach, nuzzling himself into you.

Shenanigans can always wait. Now, he has this. And the rest of the weekend to catch up on all the time lost.

Taglist (you can add(or remove) yourself to be tagged when I publish a new fic):

@infinetlyforgotten | @rafecamsgirlll | @nervoussystemss | @hom3landr

@mrsdesade | @nommingonfood | @littlegaaby | @jokesonyoupup

@natliecole | @misatxox

#i know i know #i also can't believe there's no smut in this #funnily enough fluff is very much out of my comfort zone so this was a fun and a strangely challenging write!#not sure how well the pacing comes across and if the banter lands but I enjoyed writing it!#from now on I'm putting my weird food opinions on homelander #breaking news chocolate covered strawberries are awkward as fuck to eat #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander #homelander fanfiction #my writing #the boys fanfiction #homelander fluff #fic request

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madaqueue · 3 months ago

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gn!reader - 18+ MDNI (oh god. pet play, feet, degradation, sub!dazai, i just . god fuck)

dazai never behaves. you should know better than to expect it at this point. and yet, you catch yourself desperately guiding him towards the right thing, before he’s veering himself off course.

he never behaves, not on his own.

only when obedience is forced upon him. with words. with chains. with a collar.

it’s a pretty little thing, black leather, a heart-shaped metal with dainty handwriting engraved on it: ‘osamu’. he wears it with pride, with a lazy smile and flushed cheeks. it suits him, just tight enough to give the image of control. such a pretty little thing.

“are you going to be good tonight, my dear?”

from his knees, he offers you a giddy grin, half-focused eyes. a non-answer.

when you step forward, his heart lurches. “i said,” and he’s trembling with anticipation, “are you going to be good?”

hair dances before his eyes as he shakes his head.

“ah.” you sigh. “so that’s how it’ll be, then.” only when it’s forced.

when your heel lands between his legs, rubbing his bulge through soft boxers, his eyelashes flutter. he groans, low and sweet like honey. his head falls back, lips parted.

“you really ought to learn some fucking manners, pup.”

a harder press to his aching cock, and he’s panting. a shameless rut of his hips gives just enough friction along the arch of your foot, a sly smirk playing on his lips. such a pretty little thing.

a naughty one, too.

your gaze darkens as you loom over him. “what part of ‘sit’ and ‘stay’ don’t you understand?” harder. “you stupid fucking mutt.”

golden eyes widen, his tongue lolls out, head dropping behind his shoulders. he twitches and shakes under the pressure, a wet spot forming beneath your toes. he can’t even speak his usual quip, not when his mind is full of cotton and desire. not when the collar around his throat tightens.

“did you just cum?” disbelief and faux disgust lace the words.

through a hazy grin, he nods.

“ah. i see.” you lean over him, closing the space. “you’re always-” harder, harder, harder, “-such a fucking-” his cock twitches back to life beneath your heel, “-bad dog.”

a/n: genuinely do not look at me

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alluringlight · 11 months ago

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Wanderer x (Gender Neutral) Reader

Warnings: NSFW - MDNI, I guess switch reader/Wanderer as there's definitely switching of dynamics, unhinged reader (as a treat), uhhh reader is uhhh well probably very morally ambiguous and is portrayed as at least somewhat obsessed with Wanderer (but he's into it), also ig semi-public sex??? They aren't caught and no one's around so it feels weird to say that but they ARE outside so ..... a little bit of biting/blood (very minimal) uhh think that's about it

Word Count: 2089

Even though your eyes were closed, you could feel his brain working a mile a minute, his overthinking decaying the sense of peace the sunny afternoon previously fostered. Sighing, you opened your eyes. Being caught staring at you, Wanderer blinked and quickly looked away, face flushing. You reached up, flicking between his eyes.

“Ah!” His hand reached up, grasping at his face as he turned to glare at you. “What was that for?!” His face looked severe, his displeasure apparent as the corners of your lips quirked upwards.

“You’re thinking too loud.” You tucked your arm back across your chest, your eyes closing again as you rested your head across his lap. You heard him sigh, but with no sign of his mood improving, you opened your eyes once more. This time he didn’t bother looking away as your eyes locked onto his. “Is it about your past?”

His gaze faltered, his eyes flickering away, and you knew you were dead on. He couldn’t look you in the eye as he spoke, his voice hushed, all that false bravado stripped away, until he was bare and vulnerable before you. “It feels dishonest if you don’t know who I was.”

“But?”

“But I don’t want you to hate me.”

You sat up, your knees touching his as you clasped his hands within your own. “I already told you, don’t push yourself. Tell me when you’re ready.” You reached out, fingers clasping his chin as you raised it until he was looking at you again. “Whatever your past holds, it doesn’t matter to me.”

He looked at you in disgust, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “You say that now.”

“Hm? I mean it though. It’s not like you’ve ever killed anyone that I personally like, nor have you ever harmed anyone I like. So why should I care?”

Wanderer’s face smoothed out, his expression an unreadable mask. “Those are some low requirements.” Your hand dropped, his face finally escaping your grasp, as your hand carelessly fell to his thigh. Your chest shook, your head ducked down so he couldn’t see your face. For a long moment, he felt a strike of terror, thinking he made you cry, until a laugh burst out of you. He scowled once more. “Care to inform me of what’s so funny?”

You took a deep breath, trying to stifle the remaining giggles as you smiled at him. “Yeah, they’re probably low requirements, but I don’t care. I love you, y’know?” A smile remained on your face, but your gaze was sharp. Like a wolf, smiling at the thought of its next hunt. You squeezed his thigh, the pale skin giving way easily, before you moved your hand, grasping both his wrists before shoving him down, into the grass, his wrists high above his head as you invaded his space. Red crept into his face, his shock brief before he glared at you. You didn’t give him the chance to say anything as you kept speaking. “I’d kill for you.”

His glare dropped, his face unreadable again. “Wouldn’t most humans kill to protect the ones they love?” The words must’ve tasted bitter, for his face dropped like the petals from a dying flower.

Your smile sharpened, edge razor sharp as you watched him. “Who said it’d be to protect you?” You paused, giving him a moment’s reprieve to think before you continued. “If you asked me to kill someone for you, I would. Even if it was to just prove to yourself that I’d do it. Even if that person was important. Or had a family. If you asked, I’d end them without a second thought.” You leaned closer, your faces a breadth from touching. “Does that scare you?”

He scoffed. “How could I be scared? You sound like a dog, begging its master for a modicum of praise.”

“Woof.”

He smirked, eyes lidded as he stared up at you, a teasing lilt to his voice as he spoke. “Too bad I’m more of a cat person.”

“Hmm…” You leaned back, eliciting a gasp from him as you sat directly onto his clothed cock. You hadn’t realized it before, but you could feel he was hard. Your smile never wavered as you took one of his hands, the other remaining in your grasp, and you wrapped it around your throat. “But if I’m your dog, you can collar me.” You could feel his cock twitch beneath you. “You like that idea?”

Your hand dropped down, but his remained at your throat, until he finally gave a squeeze. He was oddly gentle, only applying a small amount of pressure to your neck. His eyes remained on your neck, his hand encasing it, until you pushed further into him, grinding yourself into his cock.

He let out a hiss. “Fuck.” His hand, previously at your throat, flew down in a blur. It grasped tightly onto your waist and he gave an aborted thrust upwards. “So pent up you want me to fuck you out here in the open?” His words were teasing, but they were hardly convincing with how red his face was, as barely contained lust shone in his eyes.

“C’mon you know no one comes out here. We can be quick.” You leaned down, until you were close enough that you could feel his breath on your face. You first kissed each cheek, then his nose, then beneath his eyes. You could feel him getting impatient as you kissed the corner of his mouth, before finally relenting and kissing him. His hand grasped at the back of your neck, pressing you as close as possible.

The kisses were rough, frantic, and it didn’t take long for him to bite your lip, before shoving his tongue into your mouth. It felt like he was trying to devour you, tongue sweeping into your mouth with fervor. You could feel heat flood your core, blood rushing fast enough it left you light headed. You knew he felt the same, as you could feel his bulge straining the fabric of his shorts.

You could barely breathe anymore, but he refused to relent, hand keeping you in place and preventing you from pulling away. As his tongue pushed between your lips again, you bit down, hard enough to draw blood. He winced, less out of pain and more out of surprise, but he allowed you to pull away. “What was that for?!” He asked indignantly, his brows furrowed as he stared up at you.

“Couldn’t breathe…” You panted, your lungs failing you as you tried to draw in sufficient air. You laid your head on his chest, licking the blood off your lips. Your hands wandered, and you quickly untied his shorts before pushing them down. You ripped into the rest of his clothing, fabric tearing beneath your fingers, before you wrapped a hand around his cock.

“Give me a warning! A-ah!” His hand flew to his mouth, covering it in an attempt to smother his moans as you pumped his cock.

You shimmied your bottoms down, until you were exposed enough to grind onto him, his cock grinding into your core, his precum sticking to your skin.

He thrust upwards, his tip prodding at your hole. You yelped, your hands fisting into the fabric of his shirt as you balanced yourself. Grasping his cock with one hand, you lined it up before sinking down to the root in one moment. Wanderer gasped, hands digging into your hips as he bucked into you. The stretch burned, but it shot sparks of pleasure up your spine, and you craved more, but you wanted to tease him.

“Beg for more.” You said, clenching on his cock, causing him to let out a hiss at the unexpected tightness.

He frowned, face contorted into a scowl as if he couldn’t believe you’d request that of him. “As if I’d stoop that low.” You pulled his hands off your hips, pushing them up above his head, holding yourself over him as you looked down, your gaze locked onto his. You clenched onto his cock again, grinding down as you teased him. “You think this is enough to have me begging at your feet?” Despite his words, his eyes were hazy, half lidded, lust clouding over his senses as he felt his insides turn to mush as you toyed with him.

With one hand holding his wrists, the other traced downwards, first his face, lightly squeezing his neck, before grazing down his torso. You grasped at the ruined fabric, pulling it up and over his chest. You brought your hand back down, and brushed a finger over a nipple. The reaction was instantaneous, he gave a strangled yelp, his hips bucking up into you, as if he could further sheath his cock in you. You rubbed circles into his nipple, before leaning down to kiss him again.

This time was a little bit slower, as you deliberately slowed the pace down, keeping you both at a simmer as you drove him insane from sensation. You pinched his nipple, and when his mouth opened to let out a strangled moan, you shoved your tongue in. You ran your tongue over his, your sudden fast pace overwhelming him.

One of his hands slipped from your grip, and he brought it to your neck, squeezing slightly before pushing you away. He huffed, his breath unsteady. He refused to meet your eyes as he spoke again. “More.”

“Is that anyway to beg?”

His grip on your throat tightened, the red of his face spreading to his ears and chest as he flushed under your gaze. “Please…more. I can’t take it, just hurry up!” His voice raised and cracked as his bravado melted away. Though, you always found it easy to see through his mask anyways.

“Good boy.” His eyes shot to yours at your praise, and as he was about to protest, you lifted yourself, before letting yourself fall back down into him, his cock filling you again in an instant. He panted, thrusting upwards to match your pace.

You raised yourself upwards, before sinking back down onto his cock. You set a steady pace, pushing yourself up and down his cock, until he grabbed one of your arms and yanked you forwards. Off balance, you crashed into his chest, and he took advantage, pulling your arms behind your back, holding both your wrists with only one hand. He bucked upwards, thrusting into you at a brutal pace. You fell forwards, your face buried in his neck as he fucked into you.

You could feel yourself nearing the end, your core tightening as you felt yourself being pushed further towards the edge. You could tell Wanderer was also near cumming, his cock twitching within you. He just needed one more push.

As you finally were pushed over the edge, cumming on his cock, you dug your teeth into his neck. “F-fuck!” With a strangled yelp, he came, his cum spurting into you as you clenched around him. He filled you an unnatural amount, cum spilling out of you even with him still embedded into you.

The two of you sat like that for a few moments, trying to catch your breath, before you lifted yourself again, allowing his cock to slip out of you. “Y-you’re an idiot. Doing something like this outside of all places.”

“Huh? You didn’t seem to care a few minutes ago.” You said as you fixed your clothing. You definitely didn’t want to walk around with cum leaking from you, but you were going to have to deal with it until the two of you made it back home and you could bathe.

“Hmph.” He tucked himself back into his shorts, pulling down the ruined fabric of his bodysuit until he could tuck it back into his shorts, as if nothing had happened. Even though you both had fixed your clothes, it didn’t help much. His face was still beet red, and his expression practically screamed he’d been ravaged. It was all you could do to wait until you were in the comfort of your own home for another round.

You laid next to him, your head laying on his chest as he wrapped an arm around you, the other thrown over his eyes. The two of you rested in the grass together, the cool breeze ruffling your hair as you basked in the affection you were receiving. Ah, but he could give you more if you were in private. You couldn’t wait to get home later.

#genshin x reader #gender neutral reader #wanderer x reader #x reader #genshin smut #wanderer smut #genshin impact #wanderer x gender neutral reader #gn reader #uhhhhh i think that's good enough #also can't believe i've never posted him before #wanderer is my favorite genshin character (real)

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jellijellybean · 6 months ago

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hm. currently thinking about genichiro on your wedding night. doesn't matter if you're even getting married to him in the first place. [mdni]

can't believe i'm writing even more for this guy. but to be honest i do replay his memory just to bully him into a corner and stab him with my sword over and over again when i'm frustrated. (there's a joke in there i'm not willing to make.) anyway [word count is: 1.9k] of me just being a degenerate.

warning: nsfw. noncon, sorry gang. body worship, genichiro being completely delusional. apologies if he's ooc, i like the image of him being down bad.

a/n: written without any gendered preference in mind and no pronouns are explicitly stated.

Let's say this, you're the true grandchild of Isshin, kept hidden away inside the castle for as long as you've been alive. Genichiro is at the most, a well known acquaintance or an estranged sibling at the very least. You don't really talk to each other, let alone spend time around the other without your beloved grandfather present.

The life you lived has been one filled with lavish gifts and presents from many people alike, suitors or those who simply believe you deserve it. Never have you had to lift a finger, not once have you ever thought of doing anything that could cause you harm. Your grandfather had taught you the basics of wielding a katana, yes, but it’s not something you find yourself using often — at best, it’s a party trick you get to show off — at worst, it’s the bare minimum to defend yourself. It’s one of the reasons why Genichiro would constantly find himself hovering a few steps behind you.

You didn’t deserve to learn something that might taint your skin — something that might leave your skin bruised, cuts that turn into scars, or worse, turn you into someone like him. You’ve seen him train, watched him as he pushed himself to his limits, but you never spared him another glance. Content with just watching him from afar like you normally do.

It’s upsetting — truly, you never noticed that those moments he would catch you staring, Genichiro would be pushing himself even more. Always showing off his best moves when he knew you were watching, always wanting to prove that he was the only one worthy of your attention.

Then why did you agree to marry this worthless.. Genichiro doesn’t even consider them a person — doesn’t even believe they should be in your presence without a proper reason to be there beside you. It has him seething silently, watching as you gush to the small group of servants or even your grandfather as he stands there.. watching. Like he always is as you continue to parade around the ring and gifts that leech gave you.

He could give you so much more. He would give you everything if you so much as asked. If you wanted him to carve out his heart just for it to be in your waiting palms — he’d do it, yet find a way to believe that it wouldn’t be enough.

The night before your wedding is when he deems the act long enough. Genichiro waits, patiently, for the right moment to set things in motion. He’ll play the savior, swoop in and rescue you like he’s always done — and finally make things right. He should have done this long ago, when you two were still trying to navigate through this world together, no matter how brief those moments were. He should have been the one to ask your grandfather for permission first, but it’s okay.

Genichiro will take care of everything, just to ensure you won’t have to lift a finger or worry about any of the preparations needed. Isshin might disagree, might even refuse, but how could he? When Genichiro has only done what is right for the future of Ashina? He is the reason why the clan remains at the top despite the years whittling away at the power and influence that slowly begun to wane.

“..what the hell did you do?!” You shout at him, your eyes catching the faint red on his clothing. You feel trapped, your one chance at escaping from the walls of this place, your only chance of reprieve, gone without giving you a say in the matter.

“Only what was necessary.” Genichiro states it so bluntly, like it's something as mundane as the weather. He's not giving an explanation. Only staring at you like you're the crazy one and he's somehow sane, it's a shock that makes your blood run cold once the pieces fall into place in your mind. You don’t even realize that you’re taking a step back until he’s taking one larger step forward to shove you against the futon in your bedroom.

There's a kick against his stomach, but Genichiro doesn't seem phased in the slightest, instead choosing to grasp your wrists in his hands, pinning them to the sides of your head. Red eyes are all you can see behind the curtains of his black hair. His chest heaves as he stares down at you.

You, in your kimono, the colors perfectly contrasting against your skin and the moonlight. Its fabric so soft and delicate, cold against his and your body. He's waited long enough for this, waited years for you to finally look at him — acknowledge him like you do to others. It's only fair, he thinks, that this is something he's entitled to.

“..please.” It's a whisper that leaves your lips and into the air. It's a plea that doesn't reach Genichiro's already set mind. Choosing to brush his lips over yours in such a delicate manner, it's as if you two were indeed lovers. He shifts a bit until he's able to hold both of your wrists in one of his own hands. His fingernails dig into your skin, an unsaid threat, leaving red marks that would surely be a reminder in the morning.

You can feel his other hand ghosting over your sides, pulling the fabric covering you away from your body. When the chill from the night truly hits your skin you struggle, violently. Twisting and turning, mumbling curses and pleas for him to stop and leave you alone. For him to bring back your fiance. For him to burn and never come back. It breaks his heart to see you so unhappy, but he hates to admit it — your eyes look absolutely beautiful filled with tears.

The glossy shine practically holds all of the stars in the night sky. Genichiro can't stop himself from thinking you're something he's unable to reach, a god from the stories your grandfather would tell him, a being that would never be his. But here you are.

Dressed in a beautiful kimono with him. He kisses you, completely engulfing your lips in his own as he forces his tongue down your throat. You can tell he's never done this before with how often his teeth clack against yours and how he has no sense of rhythm nor tact. He won't pull away, not until he's reminded that he needs to breathe.

You want to scream at him until your throat bleeds, yell until his ears do the same. When you try and thrash, try and fight against him, Genichiro remains unphased and almost insulted. He's so much bigger than you, so much stronger than you — it's downright unfair. He's a trained soldier, all muscle and hardened exterior while you.. you're soft, delicate, like a flower. Unlike him who knows how truly dangerous this world is. You're what this world calls weak, but Genichiro doesn't seem to mind being that protector. His hand ghosts over your chest, your hips, your thighs like a man afraid you'd break if he placed the slightest bit of pressure.

You can feel him breathing slowly, taking in every detail before he's using both of his hands to spread your thighs apart. You didn't think he'd take his time right? Genichiro is a man of precision and caution, but he is not patient. Not when he was you right where he’s been wanting you for the longest time.

He’ll spend a few moments pressing kisses against your skin, trace the contours of your body with his hands in such a reverent way, that you forget for just a second who he is — what he is capable of. Despite his desperation, Genichiro wishes for you to enjoy yourself, for you to let him take the reins and show you how good he can make you feel, how much he is willing to spend worshiping your body like it’s meant to be.

For a few blissful moments you might be able to forget everything that’s happened when his hair is brushing against the inside of your thighs with his big hands holding your legs apart. You might be able to actually ignore the building dread in your stomach as he licks, bites, and sucks on whatever he can get his mouth on. It’s apparent once again how inexperienced he is. There’s barely any skill, barely any finesse, but if there’s anything Genichiro is — he’s determined.

You’ve seen how quickly he learns too, how fast he’s able to adapt to different strategies and it leaks into his performance even now. Every gasp, every shiver, every time your legs threaten to snap shut — Genichiro notes it in his mind as he tries to find the correct way to blend his touch together, to bring you to that high faster. He’s treating you like a puzzle, a game even, as he finds that right combination that leaves you clinging onto his hair and tugging as you tip your head back just from him moving his tongue the right way.

He loves it. The way you feel, the way you taste on his lips when he’s certain he’s cleaned you up properly with his mouth. When he pulls away, it’s to show how excited he is. You can feel him grinding against your thigh, can feel the way his hands shake and even hear the way his breathing grows ragged and desperate.

It’s unceremonious — the way he intertwines your fingers together in mock intimacy as he finally nestles his way in between your legs to take his rightful place. Don’t worry, he’ll be gentle — he’ll take things slow because Genichiro only wants to savor this moment. He wants to remember all the details of him finally pressing into you — wants to engrave the expression you wear when he starts to move.

And he shamelessly drowns in you completely. It’s something he’s never felt before, something he never thought he’d actually be able to do because in his world all that mattered was ensuring his — no, your clan stays on top. He needs to show you how thankful he is for all the moments you two shared, even if you can’t recall them as clearly as he can. Genichiro barely makes any sound, content to listen to yours as he gasps or takes sharp inhales of breath each time he feels the way your warmth envelops him completely.

His body shakes and trembles, but he knows he won’t leave you unsatisfied. Not with the training he’s done to ensure he has the energy, the stamina to keep up with a multitude of opponents. Just promise him, whisper his name like it’s all you know and he’ll vow in his own way to keep you happy, to make sure that you never will have to worry about anything as long as he’s the one by your side.

When all is said and done and you're both left basking in each other’s, albeit reluctant embrace, do you finally have the energy to speak your feelings into the night air.

“I hate you.” It’s a truth you don’t even realize has left your lips.

“I’m aware.” Genichiro answers back, “Your.. discomfort is a mere sacrifice I'm willing to make.” He's tracing his hand over your side, caressing the skin — trying to commit every detail into his mind. “You do not have to love me.” The tone he uses is cold, distant, and it only makes the despair in your heart grow. “..but you will learn to.” A warm hand slides up to cup your face, gently brushing away the tears that began to fall from those eyes he never wants to see look away from him, “And when you do — you will question how you ever lived without me.”

#jelly's writings #genichiro ashina #genichiro ashina x reader #god he's such a loser #i say as i swing my legs back and forth while i think about him #genichiro ashina smut #genichiro smut #can't believe this all started because i thought he was neat #now look at me #smh #as always not proofread #i blanked for the three hours it took me to write this #also why am i always posting at 1am tf #i literally have work in six hours ;-;#sekiro #tw.nsfw #tw.noncon #tw.yandere

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carriehobbs · 21 hours ago

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#i'd make less anguished sounds if i chewed glass if i can be completely honest <- I must know what fic merits this comment 👀 I'm new to the fandom and this sounds like a must-read

This is a little bit awkward to answer, because my anguish is not caused by an agonizingly, rip-your-heart-out, heartbreakingly sad fic, but is instead caused by the fact that the fic in question is a wip (and so I can't read it yet, even though I really want to).

The wip is @wayhavenots's Glitchne (Glitch Parker x Daphne Wiseman, from Mind Blind) Regency AU, which PD describes as:

but the premise is that glitch, who is untitled but best friend to marquess zarnecki, goes to a ball in kent's place. he meets and charms miss daphne wiseman (who is newly out in society, grieving her parents, and heartbroken because earl wacker has gone to america). glitch starts courting daphne, which is a problem, because she thinks he's a marquess. but it's a lie he has to keep up, both for his own reasons (falling in love with her, for one) and for kent.

So far, all I know about this fic are the few fun facts and character concepts that have been shared about the fic, and a few snippets of some of the writing. But that is enough to make me incredibly abnormal about this fic.

In the meantime, may I recommend PD's other regency fic, The Debutante's Guide to Saving a Spinster (Farah Hauville x Detective aka Jenny Yang) to tide us all over. 💕

#answered #(you did absolutely nothing wrong i'm not laughing at you to be clear but) i am laughing so hard. i want this to be my legacy #now everyone knows about the glitchne regency au. because i will not shut up about it Ever #if there are no glitchne regency au fans then i am gone from this world etc etc whateverwhatever #obligatory 'pd take your time/write what you want when you want/i'm not trying to pressure you/tell me if im making you uncomfy' here 💕💕💕#if you are new to the fandom and are a n fan though may i recommend: nathaniel sewell's last one night stand #or whatever it's called. fic of make me rip my hair out tbh. fic of make me download it to my computer to save it forever #also if you're an n fan and want smut may i recommend world-famous n sewell demon/priest roleplay fic. idk the name but mar might know #i can't believe i also forgot to recommend vilna's nate/adam/detective poly fic. it is in the league of 'fics so good i post about them'

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oblivions-dawn · 12 days ago

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Terribly Executed WIP Word Game

✑ Rules: You get a word and share a sentence/excerpt from your WIP(s) that starts with each letter of your word. Thank you @silly-little-diary and @umbracirrus for the tags!! I tried to do THIEF, but found it too difficult and tackled DAWN instead. Not sure who has or hasn't been tagged so, uh . . . if you want to try this with the word VEIL you certainly can take a stab at it! And so without further ado . . . .

Breathless, Chapter XVI: Apricity

...Drops of rain tapped against the canvas of the tent, mingled in the symphony of their shallow pants. A dark rosy hue painted Vigdis’ cheeks, the red ichor from her wound smeared all over her thin, pouty pink lips. Thousands upon thousands of freckles were splattered across her shoulders and chest like stars, broken only by the glints of scars that littered her skin. Entranced, Serana lightly grazed her fingertips over every faint line that she had merely traced with her persimmon gaze before from afar. How many nights had she spent longing just for this—just to touch her? She didn’t know; she didn’t care. The mortal warmth bloomed—almost burned—beneath her cold immortal touch, the sensation as addictive as the blood that coursed beneath the blemished planes.

Carrion Bones; Raeyla'szah

...A frail old woman in torn, withered robes stood at the entryway. Thin, silky white hair draped from her head beneath her hood, the ends split, tangled, frayed. Her hands were folded, her knuckles gnarled and knobby, her nails caked with dirt. Her papery, wrinkled skin was pulled taut over her bones, riddled with sunspots, vitiligo, eczema, psoriasis. Empty eyes bore into voided ones, and crooked teeth split her dry lips into a smile. Mistress of Decay. Goddess of the Dark. Daedric Prince of Hunger. “Lady Namira,” the hag uttered, her head bowed in respect.

Softly, Nightshade; Valerica

...Words glared at her, the rest of its contents summoning an endless cacophony of unanswered questions. How frustrating it was, to be unable to argue or reason with her incorrigible daughter! What was she thinking, making such a foolish decision—and such a delusional request? A deep sigh flowed from her lavender lips for what must have been the thousandth time in the past hour alone. Alas, all of her irritated pondering and pouting had gotten her nowhere, helplessly trapped in the same infinite loop of thought. The familiar scent of cardamom, cinnamon, and orchid wafted to her nostrils. It was a gentle but welcome tug out of her thoughts, grounded once more in the reality around her. The corner of her lavender lip twitched. “You always seem to know where to find me.”

Heart of Gold; Rulve

...Nothing answered. Robes swished uncertainly. Something dripped onto the floor. “Come out!” Silence. Then— A scream rang out, followed by a dull thud. Incoherent whines rasped out of the body, a knife glinting from its side. The hall tilted up; rivers of blood swelled from the corpse and flowed down, down, down— -[<>]- Rulve jolted awake with a gasp. Papers and books were haphazardly spread across her desk, one tome in particular—Dwarves, The Lost Race of Tamriel, Volume I: Architecture and Designs by Calcelmo—splayed open before her. A tired groan rumbled from her throat as she rubbed at her sleep-crusted eyes. “Book must be pretty boring if it made you fall asleep.”

#Senu Dialogue #Senu's Writing #WIP word game #tag game #Skyrim OC #Vigdis #Raeyla'szah #Rulve #Serana #Serana Volkihar #Valerica #Valerica Volkihar #Can't believe I'm sharing some of the CANON Virana smut I'm picking away at uhmuhguh. Embarrassed 100 #This is also me trying to motivate myself to do more writing because I haven't done shit today sljskgjldfg #I've probably shared most of these already but oh well. I got nothing else wheeze

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lucreziaces · 2 months ago

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you wanna fuck me right now

Pairing: Juan Borgia/Cesare Borgia. Implied Cesare/Lucrezia/Juan.

Rated: M

Warnings: Slash. Incest. Edging/Orgasm Denial. Porn Without Plot.

Author's Note: Borrowed inspiration from my own tweet. The title comes from "Gibson Girl" by Ethel Cain. You could listen to it while reading, but it's not necessary.

"You need some release, brother," Juan jokes at dinner.

Rodrigo laughs, agreeing with his son.

"Yes, from you," Cesare mumbles, irritation grating his voice. To hide the double meaning of his words.

And it earns him a light smack on the arm from his father. "You ought to cease saying such things."

"One day your brother won't be here," Vanozza comments, picking at some cheese on her plate, "and you'll regret words of animosity being the only thing laying between you."

At that Cesare chuckles.

Because what their mother and father don't know is that later he'll cry out, cock buried and spilling his seed deep into Juan at his brother's command.

"There are other things between us." He says, popping a grape into his mouth, eyes dark on Juan, "Are there not, brother?"

And Juan's smile dies, a flush creeping up high on his cheeks. That his brother dare insinuate such a thing at the table.

In front of their mother.

He should punish Cesare for such impoliteness.

Lucrezia notes the way her brothers are half breathless based on just a little conversation, and whispers, "Whatever it is you two are up to, may I join?"

Using the cloth to wipe whatever stray food might cling to his mouth, Cesare tells her, eyes still on their brother, "Not tonight, sis."

************************************************************************

Cesare's a whining mess on the bed, crying and squirming awaiting his brother's command. His cock near ready to explode.

He's regretting ever agreeing to his brother's demands at all.

Juan's finger teases the tip of Cesare's leaking cock, and cum threatens to spurt out.

Juan slaps Cesare's hip, forcefully. "Not yet, brother."

Cesare lets out a strangled whine, his body trembling and exhausted.

He can't take anymore of this.

This teasing. It's torturous.

He should kill Juan for this.

But first, he needs his permission.

For release.

"It's been near two hours, Juan!" His voice is high, strained, caught in the back of his throat. His hips seeking friction his brother forbids.

He's half convinced even a slight breeze, or his brother's breath would be his undoing at this point.

"Please. I'll die." He cries, desperately needing Juan's permission. So that he may finally fall over the edge he's been on for two, long, torturous hours.

"Such theatrics," Juan laughs. Then, taking in the seriousness of his brother's begging, "Fine, fine. You may-"

Before he can even finish the command, Cesare's eyes are rolling back, his body convulsing as his seed spills onto the thin trail of hair near his navel.

And Juan's cock twitches to life at the sight and sounds his brother makes.

The moans, and grunts, and groans, and string of curses that fall from his brother's lips are enough to bring anyone to the brink of ecstasy, but especially Juan.

And soon enough, Juan joins Cesare in bliss, spilling himself onto his brother's stomach. Their cum combining, and a thought forms in his head.

"A pity--all that wasted seed. We should have invited our sister, don't you think?" Juan asks, collapsing next to Cesare.

But Cesare's already half asleep.

And Juan cracks a smile, curling around his dear brother. He collects their semen on his fingers, tasting it before passing out himself.

#text #the borgias #cesare x juan #cesare borgia #juan borgia #theborgiasfic #smut #mine #I can't believe i'm daring to post this #it's a streaming pile of garbage #alright. we're doing it. byeeeee #mel writes things #also someone let me know if I should post this to ao3 #i can't decide if it's worthy or not #feel like only the crème de la crème deserve to be on there #and this doesn't feel like that to me

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blorboresidue · 2 years ago

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guhhhh i am struggling so much with ch3

#i'd say i hate it but i also love it like #it's fun to torment conrart while simultaneously letting conrart sit on adalbert's face #and if i keep writing he'll get to like. be a little mean to adalbert lol. in a way that is potentially gonna be ambiguous as to #whether he's just domming without proper negotiation or just being shitty lmao. well we'll see how it ends up coming out #like ch3 and parts of ch4 are the chapters where it gets kinda Unhealthy between them and that's a lot of fun for me #but also it's so humiliating to write LMAO #also agonizing having to like. do exposition. i hate writing exposition #if it were up to me everything would be like. one vivid scene with some dialogue and that would tell you everything. but noooo i had to #go and write a multichap with like. a tiny bit of plot to glue the smut scenes together/give them context #which means i actually need to write that glue #...and i already skipped ahead the other day and wrote the face sitting scene LMAO so i really gotta do the difficult parts now #ofc when i finish ch3 i get to face the void that is ch4...#like i know in summary what happens in ch4 but i don't know the details about the like really vital scene #BUT!!! in ch5 i get to start writing the conzak bits which are possibly my favorite part :) (aside from ch2 which i like a lot)#...i can't believe it takes four fucking chapters just to get connie out of adalbert's house LMAO. im so sorry my boy #you are gonna have some fantastic orgasms and learn some new things about yourself. but at what cost #fic tag

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 year ago

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Too Reliable. (s.c.)

― part one here

Weeks after your best friend did you a “favor”, he’s pretending like it never happened. Which isn’t really working out for him because you both know it did, and you both liked it. or the one where you’re mad that he’s not making things weird, so you take it upon yourself to make it weird.

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | reblog to be seungcheol’s bestie

WORDCOUNT― 12k

PAIRING― seungcheol x afab reader (ft. mingyu)

CONTENT― typical best friends to fuck buddies to “actually, I had feelings this whole time”, jealousy, mingyu hook up, it’s passionate but a lil angsty if ur a baby about it.

OTHER CHARACTERS― mingyu as the mutual friend/hook up, mentions soonyoung and others

NOTE― it’s finally here! and nope, it’s not proof read. anyway……….here is ur dose of big dick best friend seungcheol being big and strong and soft and kinda pussy drunk (very pussy drunk)

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― mingyu hook up, morning sex, lazy fingering, lazy fuck, dirty talk , unprotected sex, awkward build up, finger fucking, pussy eating, raw grinding, no blowjob in sight sorry lmao, deep penetration, cream pie, kind of cum stuffing but like not entirely intentional, cum eating, no mention of after care but it does happen off record, cheesy love stuff

“Hey, um,” “Hmm?” Seuncheol hummed out in a sleep-heavy voice. “Did you actually enjoy doing that for me?” “Are you fucking kidding me? I literally came in my pants.” He responded in a sudden, louder voice. “Oh,” You think hard. “Is this gonna change stuff between us?” “Probably, but not in like, a bad way. More like in the can-i-eat-you-out-all-the-time-way.” He responded with confidence, shifting a bit and hugging you closer to him.

You remember the conversation that happened after he went down on you like it was yesterday, and he’s a goddamn liar. Nothing changed in your friendship with him, and he certainly doesn’t ask to eat you out all the time either. If anything, you’ve felt disappointed time and time again with the aftermath of that night.

It’s weighing on you in a strange way. At first, the weeks following the first and apparently, only time Seungcheol went down on you, you almost expected him to ask for a repeat. You wanted to return the favor. You wanted him to ask but he never did. Even when he came over to hang out, even when you tried to lay down hints.

Nothing changed.

In fact, he doesn’t even talk about it. He doesn’t look at you as if he’s tasted you, and he doesn’t act like he came in his palm against your bed, right in front of you. He’s just…Seungcheol. Sweet, caring, aloof, Seungcheol. And you’re just you. Except you want to be someone else at this point. Someone that he does feel differently around after that.

Maybe you weren’t a memorable event for him when it comes to intimacy. Maybe he prefers to pretend it never happened? Maybe he was really just doing you a favor and intending for it to never go past the initial act. Even with his sweet words after the fact. Maybe, that was just to reassure you so it wouldn’t be awkward.

You’re a version of you who wants to know what the fuck he’s thinking about. Did it taste bad? Did he get cold feet about it all? Arguably, if things did get weird after what happened, you’d feel more comfortable than you do with the situation as it stands.

It is weird now, but only because it’s not weird for him.

Even now, as you lay across the same bed where he had his head nestled between your legs, you can almost feel the tingle of what it felt like. The way his hair tickled your thighs, and the way his fingers laid against the flesh of your legs. The sun is beaming in through your windows and it still doesn’t feel as warm as it did when he cuddled against you that night. It’s been weeks and your heart is sick for him by this point. Sick with confusion, angst, lust, maybe even love if you think hard enough.

You miss him a lot more than before as you throw your hand up to your face in a gentle slap as if to knock yourself out of it. This is insane. Every day you wake up feeling this way, thinking of him, and where you stand with him. It wasn’t like this at first, you truly expected him to come back for more and now you’re just sitting here with a loop of reasons as to why he never did.

Insane. You’ve gotten head from so many people and didn’t think twice about them the next day, Seungcheol is different though. You knew he would be too.

Why is Seungcheol any different? Why do you miss him so badly right now? Why couldn’t he pick up on it either? Even worse, why do you feel like doing that with him was a mistake?

He’s with his parents for the weekend, and you’re here still thinking about shit that should have been released with your orgasm.

You haven’t gone on any dates since that time, you haven’t met up with any one other than him to hang out, and at this point you’re starting to feel a little pathetic for falling in so deep. It’s entirely one sided, he makes that very clear.

So, naturally, you hop up with the confidence of a damn lion and decide that today, it ends. You will stop making it weird between the two of you, if he has even noticed anyway. You’re gonna get dressed, look hot as fuck, and sit on your couch swiping left and right until you find a hot piece of man that’s willing to take you out tonight.

That’s when something dawns on you. You remember Seungcheol briefly mentioning Mingyu to you, which seemed more like an implication if anything at the time.

Why would Mingyu be jealous of what happened that night? You can admit to being attracted to him but it’s not like the two of you hang out often or anything, and it’s also kind of a rule for yourself that you don’t fuck within the friendgroup. Seungcheol was an exception, solely because that’s your best friend. Or, well, was your best friend.

Now though? Who cares about these little rules you create for yourself? You need a confidence boost. You need your mind to be taken off of this little spiral you keep falling into. Most of all, you need to be proven wrong that you can still get off without it being him.

So, texting Mingyu? Easy.

Thankfully, Mingyu texting you back at lightning speed seemed even easier for him.

Well, Mingyu sure did a great job at getting your mind off of Seungcheol for the past couple of hours.

You lay there in his bed, feeling your body tingle from the sensation of just how well he lived up to the promise of a good time. For hours he touched you, licked against you, fucked you and yeah, you did fucking enjoy it.

But why now? Why did you only just decide to give Mingyu a shot? Why are you lying in his bed, with his heavy arms thrown across you as he snores gently behind you, feeling the need to cry? Why do you wish it was Seungcheol, your best friend who seemed so eager to please and then suddenly leaped ten feet back as if he never suggested it in the first place?

Your brain is confused despite your body relaxing itself from the state of bliss you were able to experience. You really did enjoy this time with Mingyu and think that maybe, if you continue to make late night visits to him, the need for your best friend will weaken in time.

God, if only Seungcheol would just talk about it.

And you fall asleep thinking about that. About how you’ve let your feelings weaken you to the point that it’s genuinely hard to enjoy being pleasured by someone who actually has the capability.

And, well, you wake up much the same, except Mingyu was quite quick with his fingers upon waking up himself. Showing you that even if the person you want doesn’t have a thing to do with you, he sure does.

“Good morning,” He rasps in a sleepy voice, fingers already traveling down your stomach as he hugs up against you from behind. “Glad you finally came through for me.”

You quirk a brow. Right, Seungcheol is the whole reason you're here. If not for mentioning him, at least.

“I finally came through?” You chuckle, your body jolting at the ticklish sensation of his lips brushing the back of your neck. “You knew I was single, why didn’t you call me?”

You feel a harsher kiss against your neck, and his fingers only travel further down now.

“Bro code.” He whispers, dipping his fingers between your still naked legs. “I’m not overstepping if you’re the one asking for it.” He slides his fingers gently back and forth between your legs, trying to work you up. “And you did.”

You think hard about that. Bro code, overstepping limits, not coming onto someone unless they do first solely because someone must have asked him not to. And you’d think even harder about who that someone might be, but instead your brain is quickly thrown into the morning sex routine Mingyu must offer to all of his lovers.

You enjoy it too, the small moments of bliss where you’re not in your head about what you could have possibly done wrong with Seungcheol for you to end up feeling this way. It’s a brief moment of numbness though, feeling his fingers pleasure you gently can only do so much to quiet your thoughts.

“Are you saying one of your friends had dibs on me or something?” You laugh in a half-joke, arching your back to rub your ass up and against the bigger and warmer man behind you.

“You could say that, I’m assuming he missed his chance though–” Mingyu whispers snidely, now satisfied with how you already drip for him and sliding one of his fingers into you. His other hand, being used to hike one of your legs up and against his hip to open you up for him. “You wouldn’t be here doing this if he didn’t.”

You clench around his finger unintentionally, pretending you don’t know who you’re both referring to. Mostly because there’s no way in hell it’s your best friend, seeing as how he’s acting like you don’t exist outside of platonic friendship with him. Then again, who else could it be? Soonyoung? Jihoon? Fucking Wonwoo? As fucking if.

“I guess he did miss his chance–” You breathe, now allowing yourself to give into the lazy and slow pleasure being offered. “Deeper.”

And he listens. Mingyu goes deeper and deeper with one finger, then two, then three, up until you slip his fingers out of you and plead through your body to have more. Deeper still, holding you from behind, plunging into you as if to intentionally fuck the confusion out of you. As if to, maybe, prove that Seungcheol isn’t the only man who can please you now.

When you eventually find yourself walking through your front door, you do feel better. Mingyu did have some type of capability to make you feel as desired as Seungcheol did. After all, it’s not often that you sleep over with a man, better yet get fucked again as soon as you wake up with him.

Even so, you know Seungcheol will be back tomorrow, wanting to hang out yet again as if nothing happened. Thankfully, with Mingyu around, maybe you can pretend alongside him. Maybe even forget it ever happened.

You can argue that for the first time, you’re even a bit annoyed when you see his name pop up in your notifications with a call as if you’re not right in the middle of texting Mingyu. It’s not that you were trying to go back over to his house or anything, but man, he sure is trying to get you to come back for a third round already.

Maybe you just like when people are eager to please you, or maybe you don’t like to feel as if you’re the one chasing another person. Still, you answer Seungcheol, seemingly releasing all of this resentment you’ve built up for him in an instant.

“What?” You huff into the phone, feeling it vibrate with another text from Mingyu and wanting nothing more than to see what his fourth reason would be for you to come over not even ten hours after you left.

“What?” Seungcheol responds questionably to you. “What do you mean ‘what’?”

“I mean what do you want? I’m busy.” You huff again with a roll of your eyes, flopping back on your bed.

“Oh god, something happened.” Seungcheol groans, though he was simply calling you because he missed your voice. “What’s wrong?”

“No, not really. Was just trying to figure out what I’m doing tonight when you rudely interrupted me.”

Something is off, Seungcheol can feel it. Your voice has a bite to it, one that feels like you’re mad at him. Not to mention, he knows what you mean when you say you’re trying to find something to do for the night. He tries to reserve his feelings though, despite wanting that something to be him.

“Oh, I know there’s an event at one of the clubs downtown tonight I think. Soonyoung mentioned it–” He pauses briefly to hear another annoyed breath from you. “You’re not gonna go with him?”

“Nah,” You wave off dismissively. “I think I’m just gonna go hang out with Mingyu.”

You don’t notice at all the brief and panicked silence for a solid second and a half before Seungcheol reacts.

“Wait, what?” He says quickly after managing to process those words, trying not to sound as panicked as he knows he feels. “Mingyu? Why?!”

God, he knew he shouldn’t have said anything about Mingyu that night, but his confidence was overflowing and he couldn’t help but boast at the time. It’s come back to shoot him in the dick, knowing full well that Mingyu has been trying to get you into bed since he fucking met you. Hearing you ask for him in this context is something that makes his blood run cold.

“Relax, I was with him last night. It’s kind of like, maybe gonna be a normal thing now.”

You refuse to pick up on Seungcheol’s tone. He had all the time in the world to make you feel something other than confusion, and this is just fucking petty at this point. He clearly doesn’t want to have anything with you, so why in the hell should you just sit around hoping? Waiting?

“Mingyu? You want to fuck Mingyu?” He asks in a lower tone, trying to convince himself that he has to be mishearing you. You can hear him shuffle around and close a door behind him, showing that he doesn’t want his parents to hear him. But the frustration showing blatantly in his voice is somehow…satisfying.

“I already did. I figured he would show me a good time since no one else can, and he did.” You shrug with slight disobedience. Resentment bubbling up in your gut to the extent that you almost want to grill him for having any type of opinion about it.

Seungcheol hangs on those words for a second. “Since no one else can.”

He really thought he was the one who could do it for you.

“Yeah, but–” Seungcheol starts, feeling like a child almost in the way he protests despite not being in a position to have a say in who you sleep with. “You know what? Nevermind. Do what you want.” He adds blankly, hanging up before you can get another word in.

Honestly, he doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong because you acted like he was fully capable of doing everything right. Hanging out with him consistently after the fact, not making it weird, flirting with him, asking him to sleep over.

He wasn’t sure if he should ask you for more or if he should ask you to be his girlfriend first. The whole reason he’s with his parents right now is because he felt the need to run home to his Mom for girl advice. Embarrassing? Yes, but he really wanted to do things right. He cares about you.

He needed just one single weekend away, and the second he’s gone you’re out fucking other dudes? Fucking Mingyu?

By now, that asshole is probably feeling like he’s on top of the world for getting to touch you. Not even he has done what Mingyu’s managed to do with you by now and he can’t help but feel pissed about it.

Whether you’re his or not, Mingyu never should have been a fucking option.

So, he calls you right back, pushing back the feeling of how pathetic it seems considering he’s the one who hung up on you. Then, when you don’t pick up, he immediately feels his stomach drop.

You must be talking to Mingyu, you must be setting up a time and place to meet with him. And Seungcheol has heard that Mingyu knows how to fuck. Other people have said he’s good in bed. Surely, if you’ve already been with him once and you’re still wanting to go back to him, those other people weren’t lying.

To Seungcheol, it feels like he’s losing you to his own friend with each passing second, and it’s weighing so heavy that spamming your phone with calls to interrupt whatever it is you’re doing right now feels like the right thing to do. In fact, it feels like it is the best thing in the world to do.

He calls again. You don’t answer.

Again.

“What?!” You answer, annoyed.

“Why would you even want Mingyu?! Is he really that much better than I am?” He doesn’t think before he says it, because if he did, he wouldn’t have been able to say it at all.

It’s his turn to experience that awkward silence because in all fairness, you don’t know how to respond to that. You feel annoyed now, you feel confused and quite frankly, blind sided. Since when did he care?

“What’s that supposed to mean? You came onto me once and then never followed up.” You dead-pan at yourself in the mirror across your bedroom, speaking into the phone with a voice that seems scolding. “I don’t see why you’re mad that I’m hanging out with Mingyu. We aren’t dating, Seungcheol.”

“Since when? Who said I didn’t want to do it again?” Seungcheol argues back in a whispered voice, showing you that he still can’t be as loud as he’d like to be. He chooses to ignore that last sentence though, pretending as if it doesn’t strike him in the center of the heart.

“Nobody! That’s the thing, you haven’t said anything about it. Not that you want to, not that you don’t. You’re just being you and it’s driving me up a fucking wall.”

Pause.

“You’re mad because I didn’t make it weird?” It’s like his brain clicks.

“Pretending it didn’t happen somehow makes it worse.” You lower your voice, ignoring the string of texts Mingyu is sending you and listening closely to what Seungcheol might say next. Your heart is racing through this hushed argument, and it feels good to admit that you kept thinking about it, even if he hasn’t.

“I wasn’t pretending that it didn’t happen,” He pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I just wasn't sure what the next step was.”

You’re fucking appalled.

“Seungcheol, I have been flirting with you since it happened because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You’re the one who didn’t make any moves, so I figured you wanted it to end there.” You sigh loudly, but somehow feel a bit lighter. “Do you have any idea how that fucked with my confidence?”

Seungcheol sighs along with you on the other end of the line.

“That’s why I was annoyed earlier, and that’s why I’m going to Mingyu’s tonight.”

“What?” Seungcheol’s voice raises a bit higher. “Still?!”

It’s the fact that he’s trying to explain himself. Had he known that you were confused by his lack of, um, touching you, he would have done it every day since it happened! Yet, you’re still considering Mingyu an option? Knife to the heart, honestly.

Or maybe he’s not being clear enough with you about this.

You, on the other hand, nod your head as you hum a confirmation to him, smiling and wondering if this conversation will turn into an event that would, perhaps, have you cancel the hook-up with Mingyu.

“Why? Are you jealous?” You pry.

“You really called him, and now I’m just sitting here in my old room trying to find a way to get to you before he gets to you, again. Yes! I’m fucking jealous!”

You remain silent, trying to pretend that your pettiness isn’t solely to confirm what he seems to be implying to you. Then, an unintentional chuckle leaves your lips.

“Why are you laughing?!” His voice is raised again, and he doesn’t seem to stop spilling what he needs to say. “I wanted to do that for you for years and you somehow still didn’t know?” He pauses. “I always made it weird between us, what? You thought I treated all of my friends like that?”

You just listen, feeling your heart beat in time with each word he speaks. Strings of sentences like, “If Mingyu ever thinks he can touch you again, I’m going to break his arms. He knows how I feel about you.” and “You thought I’d just eat you out as a friend?! You’re insane.” and “I would have come home last night if you wanted to feel good so badly, why did you have to go see him, of all people?”

The confirmation of Seungcheol being the friend who forbade Mingyu from making a move on you is right there, clear as day.

“Ah, so the Seungcheol I know isn’t the Seungcheol everyone else knows?” You respond, trying to force the tingling feeling in your gut to calm itself. Hearing him be so blatant to you has your heart doing flips, and it’s not an easy task to make it stop.

“Of-fucking-course not!” He rolls his eyes, you can definitely tell. “You had me wrapped around your pinky from day one.”

“And you really thought that, with the way you seemed so uninterested–” You pause, processing his words. “I would have asked you to come home from your parent’s house to fuck me? For what? Funsies? You thought I'd be brave enough or selfish enough to ask such a thing?”

Seungcheol sighs deeply, seemingly fed up with the situation.

“It wouldn’t be because you are selfish.” He breathes out, almost angrily. “And for the last time, I’m not uninterested. I was just trying to do things right. I don’t just want to fuck you, you know.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me until weeks after you ate me out?” You smile harder, trying to contain the heat flushing over your cheeks. “Until after I thought I had a pH imbalance and maybe you were just grossed out by me?!”

“I felt like you didn’t want to be with me, and I needed you to want me somehow–” He explains with a shrug to himself. “I guess waiting and being polite isn’t really your style. I should have known that though.”

You let him continue, because you can tell he’s simply taking breaths and small pauses to figure out how to express his thoughts to you.

“You can’t tell me that over the years, you never once noticed how often I stared at you.” He lowers his voice again, softening it to an extent that you actually feel the butterflies fly from your belly to your chest.

”The fact that I jumped in head first and offered to do that for you? I didn’t think I had to tell you at this point…”He breathes out a chuckle through the line this time. “And for the record, I couldn’t get enough of how good you tasted. I was just trying to like– I don’t know.”

You listen to him breathe deeply, again.

“I didn’t want you to think I was in it just for the sex, I guess.”

There. There it is. You’re nearly kicking your feet, feeling him confirm feelings and erase any hint of doubt within you. Despite never truly noticing that he treats you differently compared to his other friends, despite never thinking too hard about the way he looks at you.

“You acted like it wasn’t a big deal, Cheol. I’m not joking. If that’s how you act when you like someone, you shouldn’t blame me for not noticing.”

“I literally tongue fucked you.” He dead-pans. “Friends don’t just do that.”

“I thought we were friends who could do that.” You argue. “But I guess you’re not quite looking to just remain friends, are you?”

“No,” Seungcheol sighs. “Mom told me I needed to take you out on some extravagant date and express my undying love for you with a handful of red roses, but I guess this is just how it’s gonna be. After all, this is you.”

“And this is you.” You confirm.

“I was going to come home tomorrow and try to lie our way to the restaurant, which I still can, if you want. You kind of fucked up my plan though.”

You still yourself at his words, suddenly feeling like shit for not realizing sooner. In your defense though, if he really did like you from day one, you didn’t exactly have a chance to see how he would have acted without feelings. The Seungcheol you know is your best friend, and someone you trusted with everything, you thought he treated everyone as well as he treated you. That’s why, when he didn’t change, you couldn’t read him anymore.

Then again, all of this could have been fucking avoided if he had just voiced it to you.

“Romance is dead and it’s your fault.” Seungcheol tries to joke, his soft tone somehow coming out even softer as he waits for some type of response from you.

“So, are we done fighting?” You ask meekly, tapping your finger against your phone and looking up at the ceiling with a smile that by now, you can’t escape. “Since you’ve just expressed your undying love for me and I very much wouldn’t mind going on a date with you so we can work this out face to face?”

“Are you still going to fuck Mingyu?”

You laugh.

“Oh yeah, for sure–” To his silence, you immediately take it back. “Oh my god, relax. It’s a joke.”

“Get better jokes, asshole.”

“What the fuck?” Seungcheol deadpans into the phone, his heart beating far too fast for his health, but vibing with it anyway because by tomorrow night, he’ll be next to you again. “You seriously had sex with her?!”

“Hey, she’s the one who called me.” Mingyu shrugs as he listens. “To be fair, Seungcheol, I did tell her that someone else had dibs on her.”

Seungcheol slaps his forehead and rolls his eyes.

“You asshole– I told you at least three hundred times that I like her! I don’t have dibs.” He gripes, trying to pretend that he’s not imagining Mingyu with you, the person he wants the most.

“Damn right you don’t, because she seemed to have a great t–”

“Mingyu, shut up. I don’t want to know what happened, but like, stop texting her.”

Mingyu’s brow raises in curiosity.

“Ah, did you finally make a move?”

If there’s anything Seungcheol knows Mingyu won’t do, it’s go for a woman that is actually unavailable. He has his fun, and he’s not one to turn anyone down if he has an interest in them, bro code be damned. And yeah, he’s still a little pissed at him for hooking up with you…but, it is true, Seungcheol made you feel like he wasn’t even an option in his attempts to be a gentleman.

Still, boundaries need to be set now. Real boundaries.

“I did, and I would really appreciate it if you back off. I’m trying to make something out of this, you know?”

Mingyu lightens up, sighing at his loss of a would be fuck-buddy that seemed more promising than some he’s had in the past.

“Jesus, you’re serious about her aren’t you?” He smirks as he speaks, feeling proud of Seungcheol for finally stepping up for himself. “I mean, I can totally see why. Please excuse me as I mourn that sweet, sweet, pu-”

“Mingyu.” Seungcheol warns. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Relax, I was just joking.” Mingyu plays it cool, though he actually is mourning it a little bit. “Good on you though. I’ll back off, don’t worry.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes yet again, his love-hate relationship with Mingyu becoming more fond than ever by this point. Only because he knows it’s a joke, and only because the confidence he had in himself before all of this wasn’t entirely where it needed to be. It’s true that he wasn’t exactly a pussy eating god before, nor could he even say he’s amazing at sex but, when it comes to you, he can’t help but be excited. He wants to do it all, be it all for you.

Never in his life has he eaten pussy like that, and never in your life have you felt a mouth so eager to please between your legs.

Mingyu could have been something, but he couldn’t have been Seungcheol, ever.

The day couldn’t go by any slower than it already has.

Seungcheol comes home tonight, and by home, you mean to your apartment where he doesn’t even live.

Your mind goes in loops on what could possibly happen. Scenarios of him getting cold feet and ignoring that any of this happened at all again. Scenes of him unlocking your door, closing in on you, and kissing you before you can even say “hello”. Images of his hands on you, his mouth on you, what it would feel like if he were to…well, oh.

You snap yourself out of it, every bad scenario in your head gets replaced with one where you’ve got Seungcheol working himself on and inside of you. It’s making you feel hot, insane, and entirely too horny for the proposed date night full of talking that needs to be had first.

Then you freeze, your hand on the handle of your mug as you wonder a bit too hard.

What if he doesn’t show up at all?

You did run off the second he left the city and fuck one of your mutual friends. Arguably, you were equally as bad at communicating with him as he was to you during the past few weeks. Sure, you flirted, but was that even enough when he literally put his tongue inside of you “as a friend”?

God, he’d have every right to not show up. To move on, to never speak to you again.

You’ve been so stupid. Both of you have, stumbling together but apart into something neither of you could even begin to navigate. For you? Sex is easy. Feelings though? That’s where it gets complicated. Yet, still, you find yourself more willing than ever to let these feelings roam free if he accepts them at face value.

Solely because of how shitty it felt when you were trying to pretend that Seungcheol was nothing but a one time thing for his sake.

And when the time comes, after hours of brooding, getting worked up, and feeling insane, you’re looking like a mess when he knocks on your door. So much for looking good for him. You’re an absolute fucking wreck when you open that door and dead-pan stare at him and his bags.

“Hi,” He smiles, not quite making eye contact because he really is kind of embarrassed by all of this. “I’m here.”

You step back from the door, eyes remaining on him.

“You’re here.” You say quietly, watching him step into your apartment and drop his bags.

You feel his breath before you hear his voice. So much closer than just moments before, right up against your ear, and his arms wrapping tightly around you.

“Felt like I was gone for too long–” He whines slightly against you, breathing in a breath and taking in your scent. “Didn’t know I could miss you like this.”

You fucking melt. Out of all of those scenarios and fantasies in your head, this wasn’t one of them. Which goes to show that Seungcheol is the one person in this world who can surprise you time and time again. You’ve hugged him like this hundreds of times, but this one, oh this one. He feels so close after feeling so fucking far away.

“You were gone for two days,” You smile, nuzzling against him and gripping his waist in your own hug. “Two days too long, though.”

You feel him smile, that little upturn of his lips pushing his cheek up and against you as he chuckles and pulls back.

“We don’t have a lot of time to take it to the restaurant if you still want to go? I can shower when we get back.”

You pull back, offering him a small nod and feeling far too warm than you expected to.

You look like shit, but arguably he might think he looks worse considering the long trip back to you. Still, the restaurant is the chosen option to have this conversation, and you’re ready to get it over with so that finally the two of you can take a step forward.

The restaurant is nice. There’s a buzz of conversations surrounding the two of you but most of it feels muffled because the only sound you can truly hear is Seungcheol’s hushed and awkward attempts to get the ball rolling.

“So, I guess that’s why I went to my parent’s house. It’s embarrassing, I know–” He says before you cut him off.

“Tell me how you felt the past few weeks when we were together.” You say boldly, wanting so badly to have the confirmation that he really does want this, and that he suffered much like you did.

You watch a fan of rosy tint cross his cheeks as he breaks eye contact with you, looking to the table and then back up at you.

“Okay, um–” He stiffens a bit, glancing around to make sure no one is looking or listening in. “When we weren’t together, it was a lot easier for me to think, but when we were together, I could only really think about one thing.” He admits, nodding to himself.

You look at him curiously before you see his eyes light up in panic.

“No! No, no. Not like, sex…” He looks down. “I mean, yeah maybe sex too but mostly I just couldn’t stop thinking about ways to make you want me more than anyone else.”

Your heart swells at his panicked save, and then the words that follow.

“I already did want you more than anyone else.” You admit back to him. “I didn’t know I had feelings until you did that to me, and I’m sorry it took me so long.”

He smiles, reaching over the table as if to ask for your hand.

“What about you? What did you think about when we were together after that night?” He asks for his own confirmation now.

“Sex. Mostly, I guess. I felt like no one else would ever be able to make me feel that good again.” You look away, feeling ashamed and seen. “Goddamn, I sound so dramatic.”

Seungcheol snorts, laughing at how he should have expected this but the confidence boost is a happy surprise to him.

“To be fair though, Cheol, I think I had my feelings and my lust for you mixed up.” You continue. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I still feel both of those things every time I see you, or even think of you.”

“Feelings and lust?” He nods with a smile and wiggling his eyebrows, his eyes glistening in the warm lighting of the restaurant.

You nod in confirmation, side eyeing the waitress who walks over to take down your order.

Both of you are somehow dissociated outside of each other, there’s no way you’re not because you don’t recall what you ordered, nor what he ordered, and he appears to be feeling much the same. The moment she walks away, he’s continuing.

“I was really that good, huh?” A smirk from him, and a nod from you.

“What about right now then? How do you feel when you look at me?” He follows up, looking down at the table.

“Both of those things.” You dead-pan, squeezing your legs together as you look at him and feel the warmth radiating from even this far away. The confirmation of feelings is enough by itself to have your thoughts in the gutter about him, especially after weeks of wanting him.

He quirks a brow before lowering his voice, his eyes drooping a bit.

“Do you have any fucking idea how badly I’ve wanted to have your legs wrapped around my neck since I got back?”

God, there he is. That same bold best friend who originally suggested eating you out in the first place. Not entirely unfounded that he said it, but fuck, your cheeks are searing.

“Cheol, we’re in public.” You warn, knowing damn well that you’ve not been able to think of anything else either, but for the sake of the foundation of this relationship, you wanted to tame yourself.

“Since we started hanging out, every fucking time.” He continues, ignoring your warning. “I would get so mad when you’d go to your little hook-ups. Sometimes I even wondered if you did it intentionally to piss me off.”

Your cheeks are still hot, but now there’s a bit of guilt filling you.

“You really had no idea how badly I wanted that to be me?” He continues with his streak of confidence, unintentionally dirty talking to you solely because he, genuinely, cannot deny his attraction or his feelings for you by this point. “Even right now, I want nothing more than to have you to myself.”

You pause, the guilt leaving you in an instant as it’s fully replaced with Seungcheol’s eagerness to have you in full, finally.

“Why–” You sigh, dropping your head into your hands to hide your face from him. “Why are we at this restaurant again?”

You feel his hand reach back over to you, removing your hands from your face and dipping down to look at you.

“It’s so fucking hard to contain myself right now. I can admit that.” He whispers, blinking at you. “If you feel satisfied with where we stand, I’d be more than happy to leave this table now and prove everything to you.”

An instant nod from you, and an instant confirmation from Seungcheol.

You’re both out of the restaurant before a single sip of water, before a single visual inspection of the forgotten food the two of you ordered, and before any doubt could creep in to ruin the electrifying atmosphere you were indulging in with him.

For Seungcheol, his self control wavers with each passing moment as you sit next to him in the car. You look so calm as he drives as quickly and safely as possible back to your apartment, shaming himself for ever considering the two of you go in the first place. Still, the outcome is somehow more satisfying. Both of you wanting to leave just so you can truly be alone together? He couldn’t ask for a better night.

Still, your calmness contrasts the way his insides vibrate the closer he gets to your place, and he wonders how the fuck you manage to do it. If you were to simply glance at him at the wrong moment, you’d see his entire body melt in the fantasies of what the two of you may be willing to do tonight.

Years worth of pining in his head and heart are bubbling up now. You’re inviting him in, you’re accepting him, you’re wanting him back.

What he doesn’t know though, is that you are quite literally imagining yourself wrapped in chains to this seat. Why? Because if it weren’t for those astral chains, you’d be on top of him in an instant, reassuring him that if there’s anything in the world you’ve wanted within the past few weeks, it’s him. You’d be apologizing for never taking note of his feelings before, and kissing away all of the kisses he wished he could have had with you before, replacing them with very real, firm, hot kisses.

Thankfully though, you manage to tame the beast from within and somehow, so does he. Up until you get through your apartment door and the electrifying atmosphere sizzles away in an instant.

You expected to have the confidence to, quite literally, jump on him as soon as your door closed. Instead, you find yourself standing in awe at the entryway.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, would love nothing more than to have you right this moment, speeding and parking crooked be damned, he will not allow it just yet.

“Listen,” He reaches out to you, pulling you up and against his chest. “I need to shower before I let myself do anything.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, noting that the awkwardness came from the fact that Seungcheol’s energy is seeping out of him, lust and worry for possibly not being as clean as he’d like to be for this.

It feels strange, actually. You can imagine you’ve had many hook-ups with men who wouldn’t even consider a shower before inviting you over.

“Hurry up then, before I decide to call Mi-”

“Don’t you fucking dare make that joke right now,” Seungcheol squeezes you tighter against you. “If we are going to like,” He pauses, struggling to say it out of pure nervousness that you might change your mind. “You know, be exclusive, Mingyu’s name is forbidden.”

You chuckle against him before shoving him back in a playful way. Noting that he's probably being serious about Mingyu, and you should lay off the jokes.

“Go, shower. I can imagine you probably taste bad anyway.” You joke again, feeling playful, excited, and so entirely ready to be anything he wants you to be.

Damn this shower for feeling so good. Seungcheol could fall asleep under the warmth if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been half-hard this entire time and truly fighting with himself on how to approach this situation.

It’s kind of awkward, actually. Knowing exactly what the two of you are about to do but having to wait even for fifteen minutes makes it seem like you both have a scheduled hook up and nothing more.

It’s not a hook up though. Seungcheol is finally where he’s always wanted to be with you, in your shower priming his body to go absolutely fucking insane on you. Before, when he ate you out, he really was controlling himself. He wanted to do more with you so bad, and now? God…

He’s flushed as he finally makes his way out of the shower, length still stiffening and softening with each thought that passes. He can barely look at himself in the mirror without wanting to laugh at how embarrassing he truly is.

You’d probably laugh too, and he’d love the sound of.

Then, he’s faced with a dilemma.

You, on the other hand, find yourself lying quietly in your bedroom after doing your best to fix the mess of yourself for whatever Seungcheol may offer. Waiting for him, and ultimately wondering what the fuck is taking him so long when you finally hear the bathroom door open.

Faintly, you can smell your shampoo and body wash that he used as you hear him make his way to the living room and not find you.

Then, you hear him making his way to your room. He doesn’t open the door any further than it already was and instead, stands behind it quietly before muttering out.

“Um,” He starts, putting his hand on your door and only peeking his head in. “I wasn’t sure if there was a point to putting my clothes on–”

Fucking pause.

God, he must sound so stupid saying that, especially after looking into your room and seeing you lying against your bed changed into the exact same pajamas you put on the night he initially made a move on you through the guise of friendship.

Well, now it’s not even a question and he was right to assume that all he needed to do was wrap a towel around his waist and come to you.

You watch his eyes travel your body curiously, a smile forming on his face.

“If you’re wondering if I put panties on this time,” You smile, reaching a hand out as if to invite him to open that door and come have at it. “I didn’t.”

That’s all it takes, really, to have him pushing the door open and not-so-calmly making his way to your bed.

Seeing his naked and damp chest is one thing, but smelling your scent all over him is another, especially when the first thing he does is practically envelop you with his body and plant his lips straight on your own.

The first real kiss. Despite his lips having been on you before, you melt into it and find yourself forgetting how differently he’s acting now compared to before. He was so confident, so cocky, and now he’s almost docile. Meek.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” He leans back to whisper, adjusting his body so that he’s more comfortable and leaning down on one arm while the other holds your cheek. “Can’t believe you let me eat you out before ever letting me actually kiss you.”

Your face heats up at the comment, making you feel more scandalous than you ever truly tried to be. But he’s not wrong, and you regret making him feel like eating you out was the only way to get to your heart.

Strangely though, it was the way to your heart. Him doing that for you practically threw you into the deep end in search for more, from him, specifically.

“Can’t believe you decided that you should just eat me out rather than admit your feelings for me.” You counter with a smile, lifting your head to kiss against him again and pretending you can’t feel the weight of his length under the loosely knotted towel on his waist.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” He says through the kisses, quickly losing the ability to speak when you lick against his bottom lip and, ultimately, take control of the act.

He wonders what your mouth could do to him. His entire body reacts to the way your tongue flicks and licks against his own, it takes everything in him to try and control himself from pushing too far too soon– until he realizes that there is no reason to control himself now.

Never has making out gotten him this turned on so quickly, and it’s not a surprise because, it’s you who has her lips on his.

He half moans, half chuckles into your moan when he does it, pressing his hips down and against your thigh much like he did previously to the very mattress he’s got you lying against.

“There’s so much I want to do,” He finally admits, pulling back from the kiss and hanging his head to feel how his cock reacts to the flesh of your thigh. “Please, let me do all of it.”

You sigh, somehow feeling a pang of arousal radiate between your legs despite not yet being touched there. The weight of him on you is enough, and all you can do is nod and await the ways he intends to relieve himself with you.

Hours of head, he could give. Even more hours of burying his length between those pretty lips and watching you return the favor for him. His confidence grows as your body moves under him, waiting, waiting, waiting for what he will do next.

First, he plants another kiss to you, pressing his hips hard against your thigh with a breathy sigh before moving his lips down, against your neck.

At the same time, his hands work their way up your loose shirt, cupping one breast in his palm and easily teasing your nipple with his fingers. He works his lips down the center of your clothed chest, down to your stomach, and then up again. He's amazed and feels entirely lucky to be the person doing this to you right now as his nose nudges your shirt up with each kiss, until his lips replace his fingers and he’s sucking your nipple into his mouth.

You’ve never felt so wanted in your life with the way he appears to be savoring you. Leaving his own pleasure neglected once again, his entire focus is on you. You arch your back up a bit, hands shooting to his head and cradling it there against your chest.

He groans when you scratch against the nape of his neck, wiggling your hips under him and chasing the sensation that his mouth manages to send to your clit. He groans again when your nipple remains firm between his lips. He nibbles against the hardened nub, trying his hardest not to drool over how badly he's wanted to be in this very spot.

And this time, he moans when he manages to trail one of his hands down just to see how much it will take of this to get you wet. He tucks one hand under your shorts, only to find that you’re already dripping, soaking his fingers with a mere single slide up your folds.

“Fuck,” He sighs as if it’s a compliment when he pops his mouth off of you, flicking his head up to look at your already dazed eyes. “Already?”

You glance away, embarrassed by how badly you want the man who was once your best friend, and is now….more than that. You can feel his fingers graze and gently play around with the heat your body has already released for him, rolling your eyes back each time he pretends he’s going to offer pressure to your clit.

He’s fucking teasing you, and you know it.

He knows it too, because of fucking course he is. After years of torture, wondering if you’d ever manage to get wet at all with the thought of him, here you are, dripping under him when all he’s done is kiss you and fondle your nipples.

Briefly, he remembers how needy your hips were when his tongue was seeping into you. He remembers the taste of each thrust you pressed against his face, and the smell of how badly you needed him at the time.

As used as he was by you that night, he wants nothing more now than to pull those same desperate moans from you, to taste the wet inside of you that no man ever managed to release for you.

“I feel like I’m going insane,” He finally says, still toying with your folds and keeping an eye on the way your eyes glare back at him. “I want you so fucking bad–” He stutters now, instantly sliding his fingers into you and scooting down on the bed at lightening speed, pulling your loose shorts down along with the act, just to get the taste of you against his lips again.

Your legs instantly shoot over his shoulders, and one of his hands reaches up to hug your thigh against him as his tongue immediately laps at every corner of your arousal. His eyes nearly roll back at being able to experience this again, his fingers holding firm without a single movement just so he can feel your body confirm that you want him just as much.

The clench around his fingers are enough, and he licks around them only for a moment before returning his lips to your clit and giving you everything his mouth could ever offer to this part of you.

All he can feel is your legs tightening around his head, nearly lifting your ass up and off of the bed, all he can hear is his own moans vibrating through him each time he hears you react.

Arguably, even after that brief moment of teasing from him, feeling his mouth so eager, much like before, sent you straight into a blissed state. His mouth is so warm, and his voice soothing your core through its desperate attempts to beg for more.

You can’t help the fact that your legs hug his head, or the way your hands shoot down much like before, scratching through his hair before dropping down and spreading yourself open with two fingers solely to expose your clit in full to the assault of his tongue.

He missed you so much, he missed this so much. Never again will he leave you wondering, from this point forward, you should be well aware that if you so much as pushed him to his knees and lifted a leg over his shoulder, he’d be eating like a fucking king.

Still, even with his immense love for kissing your pussy until your legs shake, there’s more to be experienced here than just this. His pace slows with the reality of that, and only now does he move his fingers inside of you and pull back to see how you’re spreading yourself for him, even as your legs fall from his shoulders.

“Feels good?” He rasps, lips glistening with a mixture of his own saliva and your slick.

You lend him a drunken smile, nodding slowly as you focus in on the way his fingers scissor you open. Within a blink though, his face is right there hovering above you, staring intently at the way you react to his fingers.

“You look so good right now, you know that?” He compliments, leaning down again to plant a kiss against you, only pumping his fingers in faster when your kiss appears to be more hungry than his own. “God, you’re squeezing my fingers–”

He can feel the clench of your pussy walls pushing his two fingers together, almost pushing against his attempts to scissor you open and curl them into the spot inside he knows you have. He can only imagine how good that would feel if he were to…

His eyes squeeze shut in a drawn out moan at the image, his own kiss growing more hungry as he releases the towel from his waist and quickens the pace of his fingers inside of you.

You can feel him press his cock against you, and the weight of it only becomes heavier when his fingers pause inside of you just so he can slip them out and use those same slick-coated fingers to hold his length down and against you before he slides it between your lips. Now coating himself in the same wet sensation.

He can't help it, he wants to do so much and savor everything this moment has to offer. Savoring is difficult though, when you're lying there like this, spread out for him and him alone. He hopes that this continues, that you'll truly keep him. Because he is internally damning himself for not eating you out longer, for not curling his fingers into you for at least an hour more. But he's breaking, he can't stop himself from wanting to feel more, more, more.

You listen closely to his moan, knowing that he seems fond of neglecting his own pleasure to the point of doing near-embarrassing things to get it back when he needs it the most. It’s strangled, almost. You can hear him swallow around it when he slides up harshly, bumping your clit and causing you to sigh out at him.

He seems so…desperate. Yet, he can have anything he wants for as long as he wants it.

“Keep it spread open–” He mutters out when he feels you try to remove the hand that had been hoping your pussy out on display for him. “I want to feel all of it against me.”

God, you’ve never heard him say something so sexy. Easily you do as he says, now using both hands to hold either side of your pussy open for him, and feeling the underside of his length slide against your hole.

You let out a pleased sigh, despite practically seeing the light leave his eyes and become replaced by a darkened, aroused gaze. You can feel the slick inside of you drip out with the way he's looking at you right now, and you're sure he can feel it too.

You can genuinely just assume that his cock must be aching as he does this actually, leaking all over you. That’s something you don’t mind at all, because the stimulation is far beyond what you could ever ask for.

“Cheol–” You try to speak, only to be cut off by his hand sliding under your head and his lips attaching yet again to you.

Showing that he truly can never get enough of you.

There, you can’t help it when you remove your hands and shoot them up to his face. Holding him there, feeling the way his jaw moves when he licks into your mouth in a desperate attempt to get as much of you as he can.

His hips fuck forward much like they did into his palm all those weeks ago, and the anticipation of if, or when, he finally plunges it into you drives you to kiss him just as hard as he does you.

There is nothing but the sound of kissing in the room save for muffled moans from both of you, entirely tangled up together as he does nothing more than grind himself against you. His hand cradling your head and the other still pressing his length down and against you as close as he can manage. Yours, cupping his cheeks as he kisses you, up until you run one hand down, lying it over his own, and taking over to keep the pressure against his grinding length.

In that moment, with his free and now shaking hand, he pulls back entirely and just looks at you.

He’s out of it, entirely gone from this world as he stares down with his hair drying by the minute from that shower, messy as all hell with darkened hooded eyes. He continues to stare, each thrust against you becoming pointed to the extent that it almost feels like he’s already fucked you for hours.

And then, you feel it. The weight lifting, the warmth as he adjusts his hips just barely enough to line up with your quivering hole, practically begging for him to stretch you out for the first time.

His eyes falter only for a moment when he realizes that this is a moment he will never forget. The way you look up at him with glassy and needy eyes, out of breath, seemingly loving him as much as he’s always loved you.

“Will you let me?” He whispers, not breaking eye contact even for a moment.

“Please.” You mutter out, not fully intending for it to sound so broken.

And as broken as your voice was in that instance, he grows much weaker by it. Dropping his head with a deep sigh, a smile, and then a chuckle.

“You really, really, can’t look at me like that and sound like this, then expect me to be gentle-” He pauses to look at you again. “For your sake, please tell me to slow down.”

You can barely comprehend a word he’s saying when he’s looking at you like this, when you can feel the head of his cock teasing where you need it the most.

“Please.” You rasp out again, wrapping your legs around his waist and forcing his body forward, ultimately sliding the tip of his length into you yourself.

“Oh my god–” He chokes out, sucking in a breath before letting out a moan at the feeling. His body jerks at the sensation, the sound of your voice, the way you pulse around him. “Fuck, so good.” He continues to mutter, controlling himself for only a few seconds longer just to see if you have the ability to understand that he truly and honestly will not have the ability to go easy on you at this point.

“Deeper.” You plead, squeezing your legs tighter around him, uncaring of his attempt to control the situation.

That’s all it takes. Your broken voice already had him shaking, and now he’s giving up any and all control that he could have possibly hoped to have.

Right there, with your legs hugging his waist, your hands gripping the pillow behind your head, and his hands finding purchase on either side of your head, he sinks himself into you as deep as he can go and feels as if the life is being choked out of him over how fucking good it feels.

He throws his head back in an erotic and attractive moan of relief, allowing you a glimpse at the expanse of his stretched neck, naked of any marked territory. Still, your vision goes red when the stretch hits you.

So big, so strong on top of you. You can imagine he really could fuck you hard, you hope he doesn’t go gentle on you.

“Shit, please,” You moan brokenly again, releasing your pillow and gripping his forearms. “Cheol, god–” You have no words to describe how good he feels inside of you, you couldn’t begin to fathom trying to explain to him how perfect he is.

It feels deep, deeper than you ever could have imagined. His length alone should have been enough to tell you that, but you hadn’t yet factored in the girth of it. So heavy inside of you, touching each soft and sensitive surface your pussy has to offer.

Your body jolts in adjustment, knocking the breath out of you despite him not moving just yet.

“Shh.” He soothes, not at all actually wanting to hush your cries for him. In fact, he’s simply saying it because he could quite literally release at any moment if you continue to speak and clench him like this. And when he finally looks down at you, he can’t fucking help it.

His hips move at their own volition, and he was right in believing there is no gentle fuck to be had here. He slides out only slightly, with the intent to fuck you as full of him as he can. He wants to stay deep, because you asked, and he wants to keep you feeling stretched around him because he can truly never get over the way you look and sound right now. Even more so, he fears he will always chase the feeling of how your walls squeeze his cock as if it intends to keep him in this position forever.

You shake at the feeling of him pressing impossibly deeper into you, keeping his hips flush against your ass before snapping his hips back more now. A slightly empty feeling inside of you being filled once again within a second.

His moans sound beautiful, he feels beautiful, and all you can do is stare up at him with watery eyes and a slack jaw, wondering why it took him so long to do this with you.

Wondering why it took you so long to want it at all, when now, you think you could never feel this good with another person again.

His arms flex in your grasp with each thrust, and his eyes land on each visible part of your body before he weakens his stance and lowers himself to you, hips still fucking you open at a pace that only seems to be becoming more and more rapid, more and more fucking blinding.

“You make me never want to touch another person again,” Seungcheol suddenly chimes out, kissing you before you can comprehend or respond to those words. “No one has ever reacted like this for me–” He continues, pointing his thrusts harder into you. “Feels so good, so tight around me.” He chokes up at the last few words, stuttering his hips and picking up a different pace.

This time, those harsh thrusts pull back further, emptying you before slowly pressing into you again.

“I want you to remember how this feels,” He continues, seemingly rambling against your lips with each slow thrust. “No one will ever fuck you like I will.”

Your hooded eyes shoot open with arousal at his confident boasting. Clearing your mind in the way those words felt so final, as if it isn’t even a rule, but a logical fact that only the two of you could ever find to be true.

You can’t even manage a response, and instead moan before tucking your lips up and against his neck, using one hand to grip his hair and skew his head to the side.

That once naked and markless neck is no more. He is yours, and you’re lucky enough now to know that this is exactly what he wants from you.

“Ahh, did that turn you on?” He questions your reaction to his words, feeling your hips make attempts to meet him halfway with each thrust now. As if you somehow managed to seem even more into it. “You like when I talk?” He continues to urge your sucking lips to speak out to him, to answer him, to boost his ego just a bit more.

“So much,” You nearly whimper against his neck, moving your lips to another spot. “Love when you know exactly what you’re doing.”

He’s in heaven hearing those words. As if it’s a confirmation that he wasn’t just talking dirty. You both truly take those words and will fuck by then from this point forward. He doesn’t want anyone else, and hopefully, you’d never give another person the chance to even try to make his words appear as a lie.

And then the room falls silent again, as if Seungcheol is focused on reminding you with each passing second that he’s never been more sure or right of something in his life. Despite you already believing him, the way his cock pulses inside of you is enough of a reminder even if he had never said it in the first place.

His pace quickens again, and then slows, and then stutters. Only to fall back into a good rhythm before his entire body starts to shake through the act.

You wonder if this is it. Is this how his body reacts when he’s about to release? Is this what his face looks like? Is this what his eyes do? Did his arms strain like this the first time? Did his moans come out as choked and desperate?

None of that matters, because as quickly as it started, he buries himself into you again and stays in that one spot, shaking above you and timidly looking down at you.

“Don’t move, please, don’t move.” He practically begs, losing himself to the way your hips chase the feeling of constant stimulation. “Stop moving.” He pleads again, pulling his chest away from you and sitting up on his knees, keeping his cock in place deep within you.

You watch him, unable to keep your hips still, and he watches you– trying to keep his orgasm under control before seeing your fingers trail down your stomach and to your clit.

There, he loses himself again, watching you rub the soft spot just above where his cock stuffs you full.

“I can’t,” He chokes out, snapping his hips back and allowing himself to get lost in the feeling. “Goddamn, I really cant.” He continues to mutter out, pressing his release ever deeper inside of you as he feels every muscle in his body tense.

It feels so sensitive, but he can’t stop moving, feeling his cum fill you up to the point it’s surely being pressed out of you by his desperate length wanting nothing more than to stay inside of you.

You moan through it with him, encouraging him to lose himself inside of you, and he’s so beautiful when he does it. The fact that he does it at all has your body tensing on its own. Teetering on the edge of your own orgasm with the way your fingers almost aggressively chase after the feeling he appears to still be releasing inside of you.

And then, emptiness. You are left empty and dripping, fingers still chasing your release before–

“What the fuck,” You moan, squeezing your eyes shut at the feeling of his tongue instantly back on you. As if he’s looping back to the beginning of it all, uncaring of tasting himself solely because through it all, he can still taste you. “Cheol, what the fuck!” You continue to groan in awe when he replaces his tongue against your hole with his fingers, fucking into you as quickly as he can before nudging your fingers away and taking over the chase of your orgasm with his tongue.

You’re entirely amazed by how eager he is to pull it from you, and that alone was enough. The desperate ways in which he decided to pleasure you right in this moment, it’s enough.

Your hands instantly reach for his hair, gripping so tightly that you can hear the pained sound he lets out at the sheer force behind it. You very nearly rub his nose in the mess he’s made of you out of the sheer arousal you feel through your orgasm.

You’re seeing white, feeling his fingers expertly work you open and somehow don’t feel disappointed at all that you didn’t get there before he pulled out of you. You can still feel him dripping out of your core, fingers squelching and sliding through the mixture of both orgasms inside of you. And his tongue, good lord his fucking tongue, licking up every bit and eagerly flicking your clit at a pace much faster then he offered before.

And now, you find your legs nearly kicking him across the room. As soon as the orgasm subsides, your body goes into overdrive with the overwhelming sensitivity between your legs and all he can do is laugh at the way you practically do kick him.

Right off the bed, actually, he tumbles and whines at the fact that while he toppled, he lost the view of your shaking body come down from the very orgasm he caused for you.

You lay there, staring into space as you attempt to bring yourself back to reality when you see his messy hair and glistening eyes peek from the edge of your bed at you. His shoulders huffing with each deep breath he takes.

“Jesus fucking christ.” You manage to gasp out, spread eagle and almost completely naked on your bed save for the forgotten shirt that’s still pushed up to your collarbone.

He makes his way back up to you, pressing your legs together, lowering your shirt, and planting his heavy dead-weight right on top of you before flopping to the side.

A solid ten minutes pass as the two of you lay there in the mess you’ve both created. Heavy breaths turn to easy, balanced breaths together. You can barely hold your eyes open when he slicks his tongue as if something has been confirmed in his head.

"Huh, when did you do this?" He asks, skewing his head deep into your pillows to present the bruise he can feel swelling on his neck.

You glance at the darkened spot, nearly forgetting you laid claim to him in such a way during the heat of the moment.

"Around the time you were fucking me into the next dimension, I'd say." You laugh lightly before shortly falling back into silence with him.

“Can I ask you something?” He mutters, throat dry and stomach growling embarrassingly loud.

“Hm?” You hum out, entirely ready to just sleep in the mess.

“Are you always like that?” He questions, a little hint of doubt breaking his confidence. “Like, did Mingyu witness you act like that too?”

You crack your eyes open and instantly turn to face him.

“You’re insane if you think Mingyu is that good. I’ve never used the word ‘please’ in my life.”

Seungcheol glances away, thinking to himself and letting those words sink in, all while still pressing against that bruise you created on his neck.

“Well,” He starts, “That’s a lie because I’ve heard you use your manners at least twice in the years I’ve known you.”

You smile, loving that the two of you can still be somewhat catty and playful even after the fact that you just realized how insanely in love with him you are.

“Cheol, no one has ever made me act like this in bed.” You try to reassure him. “I don’t think anyone else could, besides you.”

He smiles with a nod, running his hands down your body before pausing at the half dried cum that managed to make its way up to your stomach.

“Ew.” He groans.

It’s insane really, that all it took for you to fall in love with the person you think you were always meant to love was him admitting it. Even more insane that he decided to take the route that involved faux playful head, with no feelings attached despite his feelings being deeply fucking attached.

Still, the route taken to get to this point, he thinks, is fitting for the two of you. Especially now that he can look at Mingyu without wanting to strangle him, and he can look at you knowing you’d very much invite him to strangle you, you know, considering the fact that you’re now trying to explore every sexual realm in the fucking universe with him.

Even with the desperate need to have you under him any chance he gets, and the fucking, and the arousal, none of it shines brighter than the small intimate moments he has with you that aren’t weighed by pining or lust.

As playful as the two of you are together, there is so much love here. So much love to still be discovered too, and he can’t help but feel excited by it.

Romance isn’t dead somehow, despite how the two of you tried to fucking butcher it.

#choi seungcheol smut #seventeen smut #hon <3 #what a way to come back holy shit #i have so many thoughts so please excuse this if it's all over the place #firstly as much as i enjoy idiots to lovers it can get so frustrating at times #i think because sometimes the tension just feels so forced and the miscommunication becomes more frustrating than entertaining lol #but you balanced it so well #i only wanted to bash my head in at reader and cheol's lack of communication minimally so a job well done #also given cheol's jealous tendencies i honestly think fucking someone else would be a solid way to get him to address his feelings kjjggghk #as toxic as that sounds #not him getting advice from his parents :((((((( my lil sweetheart i love him #also gotta say as a former mingyu girlie this line Mingyu could have been something #but he couldn’t have been Seungcheol #ever. #felt particularly pointed 💀💀💀#bless their little awkward hearts #can't believe you inserted me directly into this fic hon wow thanks #reader is more patient than me because i would let cheol hit without showering first 😭 especially with how much build up there was #thank you for always feeding my bottomless love for desperate in love people fucking 🫂🫂🫂#you get it you get me it is one of my brands one of my faves and you never miss #q: painting with hyunjin

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sukibenders · 8 months ago

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Me, whenever I see good books getting shit on just because they don't include smut:

#booktok #books #reading #bc why are u ranting on tiktok about soc not having smut when u could have found another book #that fit your liking and talked about that?#and i also think we should address the way in which media and literature is now becoming oversimplified #bc the creators believe the audience can't comprehend without someone holding it's hand #and i would combat against that statement usually but...seeing what im seeing now...im not so sure for some 😭

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ljubimaya · 11 months ago

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Welcome back to another episode of I yapped too hard. We're almost 5k words in and they have hinted that they like each other

#journal entry ᝰ.ᐟ #I will make them confess and go eep #then I shall work on the smut #which will hopefully be around 1k words #I do not have the patience to finish this thing #I can't believe I also convinced myself into starting a Hanma version of this 💀

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 2 years ago

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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?”

#guess what #i didn't cry this time #who am i????#joking aside i think this might be the most relatable reader so far tbh #even the mention of the power rangers i used to love them when i was child lol #loneliness is one hell of a drug :D #honestly this might be one of my favourite wonwoo fics ever #i love when people write him as the warm kind soft loving man that he is #the way my heart leaped when he told reader to come sit in his lap jhggjk #also reader is so valid for wanting to start a family with him immediately same me too #god and someone who believes in the gospel of soft dom! wonwoo my heart was hammering in my chest reading the smut jesus #the overstimulation the praise i can't do this don't you know i am weak and fragile and in love with wonwoo????#the way you write dirty talk is too good actually stop *takes away whatever you write on*#you can't have this power anymore #beefboy <3 #jeon wonwoo smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #q: painting with hyunjin

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lovelivision · 2 months ago

Text

‎‎‎‎THE PRACTICE OF KISSING .𖥔 ݁ ˖

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎𐔌.pairing — geto suguru / reader

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎── word count: 10k

✿ summary... after getting asked on a date you feel insecure over your inexperience regarding kissing someone. telling your bestfriend geto about your concerns results in an offer from him you didn't expect

warnings.ᐟ ── 18+ only, smut, pwp, swearing, making out, dry humping, dirty talk, hickeys, biting, (light) nipple play, praise kink, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, orgasm denial (once), bsf!geto, virgin!reader, return of tease!geto, afab!reader, no use of pronouns !!

The state of your mind is currently a mess, feeling overwhelmed and staring off into space as you think about how a guy asked you on a date earlier today. You'd turned him down but only because you have a particular hang up you can't get over, hence the feeling overwhelmed. You’ve never gone out on a date before and you feel like you’re missing out, so you definitely would’ve said yes if you weren’t so unsure of yourself.

Geto's hand waves in front of your face, breaking you from your trance, "Are you even listening to me?"

Has he been talking? Damn, you really spaced out, "Would you believe me if I said yes?"

"Not even a little bit," his gaze unamused.

You look away from him and to the poster behind his head on the wall, feeling sheepish, "Then no... sorry."

His frown deepens, legs uncrossing and scooting closer to the edge of his bed, "What are you thinking about so hard?"

"Not telling," you answer, spinning around in his office chair so that you’re facing away from him.

His desk is neat, everything organised and probably put exactly where it should be. Beside his monitor sits a little black cat figurine, one you had bought him not too long ago because it reminded you of him. Seeing it displayed makes you smile; he must like it.

Geto’s voice cuts through your small reverie, "So, you're not only going to ignore me, you're also not going to tell me what's wrong?"

Not even glancing back, you hum at him, "That would be a correct assessment... yes."

"Have I told you that you're annoying yet today?" He exasperates.

Shrugging, "I don't think so?"

"Oh? In that case, you're annoying."

"You're so mean to me; this is why I don't want to tell you what's wrong," you’re being dramatic but so is he.

A sigh leaves him, "If I promise to be nice will you tell me what's wrong?"

Your head flops onto the chairs headrest, jabbing at him jokingly, "I don't know if you're capable of kindness, Suguru."

"Now who's being mean? I'm nice all the time."

"Maybe to strangers..." You mumble out.

There’s no reply from him and for a second you think he’s going to leave the issue alone… that is until you’re suddenly spinning. His footsteps are always so light, you didn’t even hear him come up behind you. You’re facing him now, his hands holding himself up by the arm rests of his office chair. He’d spun you around just to lean down into your space and pointedly look at you.

Geto squints, “I’m nice to you all the time.”

“I don’t think this constitutes as ‘nice’.”

He groans your name, “Come on, you always talk to me when something’s wrong.”

“Maybe this is awkward for me to talk to you about,” you pout back at him.

His tongue clicks in realisation, “So, it’s about your love life?”

The immediate correct guess stumps you, causing you to sputter out, “What!? You have no way of–”

“–You never talk to me about your dates and you also got defensive so I’m guessing I’m right,” his gaze is even, unconcerned.

You huff at him and echo his earlier question, “Have I told you that you’re annoying yet today?”

“Yes, earlier when you almost fell over and I smiled,” he reminds.

Your response is a grimace and a matter-of-fact tone when saying, “I don’t tell you about my dates because I don’t go on them.”

“Ever?” Geto’s eyes widen slightly, clearly surprised by your confession.

Cementing back, “Ever.”

“People have definitely asked you out though.”

“Yeah but not that often because they always think we’re together,” you glare back at him.

A hand reaches for your face and squishes your cheeks between his fingers, “Don’t look at me like that, that’s not my fault.”

Your voice comes out all mumbled and difficult to understand, “It so is.” He rolls his eyes at you and you slap his hand away, “Stop squishing my face!”

Letting go, he sighs and takes a step back, sitting on the edge of the bed again, “Something about your love life is bothering you.”

Crossing your arms over your chest and looking to the side, you complain, “You’re so nosy.”

“Am not.”

What a liar, he’s always in your business. Though, now that you’re thinking about it, you don’t think he’s usually in other people’s business this bad. He does like hearing about the gossip you collect though, always ready to hear it while acting as though he doesn’t care.

There’s no reply you can think to give, so you give him the silent treatment. Still looking away from him and silently pouting, you can feel his eyes watching you, waiting for you to break. It’s a frequent game you start that he finishes, silently ignoring him while he watches and waits until you can’t take it anymore and tell him what’s on your mind.

A few more moments pass by and you already feel ready to give in, you hate how much more effective his silence is. Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, your gazes meet and you feel yourself folding all at once.

Large and exasperated groan leaving you as your shoulders slump back into the chair, “Fine!”

He perks up at your concession, a self-satisfied look on his face that irks you.

Looking at him properly to say, “I was asked on a date earlier today.”

The expression on his face changes to one of annoyance, like he’s not happy to hear that, “Who?”

“Some guy, you don’t know him,” you wave off, not really understanding why it matters to him.

Geto prods for more information, “…And what did you say?”

“…I said no.”

“Oh?” His reaction is indecipherable to you, “Why?”

This question is exactly why you didn’t want to talk about this, “I don’t know…” You’re lying, trying to avoid talking about this in more depth.

“Did you like him?”

“I didn’t not like him,” you shrug, “I would’ve liked to go out with him at least once but…”

“But…” He pushes.

“I don’t know, Suguru,” you scowl at your own reasoning, “I’ve never been on a proper date before, I don’t know what to expect or what’s expected of me. What if he wanted to kiss me or something?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, making you antsy while you wait for him to talk, “…Would you want to kiss him back?”

“Maybe?”

“I don’t think I’m understanding the issue,” his brows are pinched with his confusion.

You’re exhausted with him, like you aren’t the one being purposefully cryptic, “Am I gonna have to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh!” You kick your legs in a mini tantrum, “I’ve never properly kissed someone… it’s always been like… a peck, I don’t know? But what if he expected more of me?”

You can see the way he’s actively fighting against the smile threatening to break out on his face, “Is that–” he bites down an amused sound, “Is that why you always say no to dates?”

“I don’t like you very much right now,” you were already feeling silly and embarrassed and his clear joy from this is not helping that.

He pouts at you mockingly, “Don’t be like that, I can help.”

“How could you possibly help me with this?”

A smile comfortable on his face when he states, “I could teach you.”

“You want to teach me how to kiss?” You scrutinise him, “Have you gone insane?”

“You’re the one all hung up on this and I’m offering to help you,” he puts his hands up, “But if you’d rather be a dateless loser for the rest of your life–”

“–Hey!” You point at him, “Uncalled for… and rude!”

A very signature and very annoying, polite smile sits on his pretty features. Unbothered by your outburst at his very clear bait. He simply raises his arm and grabs the hand you had pointed at him, tugging you from the chair and into him on the bed. You’re taken aback by his bold move, so close to him so quickly. Falling into his lap less than gracefully, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you steady as you sit sideways between his legs.

You stutter out at him, “Wha– what are you doing?”

Letting go of your hand; he reaches for your face. His thumb stroking softly against your cheekbone, “Do you want my help or not?”

“What you’re basically asking me is if I want to kiss you,” you correct… because that is what he’s asking right now.

Geto’s head drops back slightly as he fights the urge to roll his eyes at you dramatically, hand resting on your outer thigh now, “Don’t be so pedantic. You have a problem and I’m offering to help fix it.”

A sound of disapproval slips from you at his wording, “I know the theory behind kissing someone, Suguru. What you’re offering is making out with me.”

“So?”

Your expression is dumbfounded, you know he’s not this dense, “You want to stick your tongue in my mouth and then go back to the usual?”

He leans in again, dodging your question with his own, “Do you want me to stick my tongue in your mouth?”

“Geto–”

“–Ouch–”

“–Shut up.” You cut him off, “If! We did this and I do mean if. Would you be able to look at me the same?”

“The same as I always have? Sure,” there’s no hesitation from him.

He seems so sure, like he’s not worried about what this might mean for your friendship at all. The easy-going look on his face is both pissing you off and relaxing you, emotions he’s always been able to pull from you.

His hand is large on your thigh and the way it makes you feel is not how you should feel for him. Mumbling out a small, “You’re annoying.”

An amused breath leaves him, “You’ve already told me that today.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you look up at him through your lashes.

“That’s kind of the point of this.”

“Right…” You can’t help but find yourself feeling nervous, embarrassed that you won’t be good enough. For some reason… you really want him to think you’re a good kisser.

He must take your silence as rejection because his tone is gentle when he says, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I know, I just…” You frown while looking at him, trying to figure out exactly what steps to take next, “I don’t know what to do now…” Geto’s face relaxes and a smile replaces his concern causing you to chastise him, “Don’t smile, it’s not funny!”

“No,” he agrees, “But it is a little cute.”

“Whatever, can we just kiss now?”

“Desperate?” He asks teasingly.

You deny it, “I just want you to stop talking.”

“Sure.” It’s all dragged out and has a teasing lilt to it. Damn him and his need to have the last word. You don’t reply to that and instead try to shuffle off him, thinking sitting like this would be awkward. His hold becomes firmer on you, “What are you doing?”

You’re confused, “Isn’t this position weird?”

“Makes it easier,” is all he says in reply.

Being sat between his spread legs, your own draping over one of them while he holds you doesn’t seem ideal. To you, this couldn’t be a more awkward position to be in for this. Instead of telling him that though, you settle back, “Alright…”

When you look back up at him properly, he’s already looking at you. There’s a funny feeling that runs through you at the look in his eyes. The hand on your thigh moves to your face again, cradling you as he leans in. Murmuring a soft, “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”

Just as he’s about to move all the way in, your hand covers his mouth, “Wait.” You stop him, your nerves getting the better of you, “What if… what if you don’t like kissing me?” He looks a little frustrated so you pull your hand away, giving him a chance to speak.

“Do you want me to like kissing you?”

You feel flustered by his question, “Why do you always answer my questions with a question?”

“Because your questions are interesting…” he pauses, “…And also, I like teasing you.”

“If you answer my question, I’ll answer yours.”

“Fine,” he indulges you, “I’m not gonna dislike kissing you so your question is dumb.”

“But you can’t know–”

He tuts you, interrupting what you were saying, “–You gotta answer my question now.”

You groan at him, “Well… yeah.”

“‘Yeah’ what?”

He’s such a smug bastard, “Yeah! Yeah I want you to like kissing me, Suguru.”

You’re huffy but he seems so pleased by your response. A serene and happy look on his face despite the tone you used. You find yourself waiting for him to say something more, something to tease you further but he doesn’t. He simply leans in again, taking you by surprise when his lips are softly pressing to yours. It’s short and sweet, more akin to a peck than anything else. Continuing to plant gentle kisses to your lips until you return them and then he lets them linger.

The feelings that run through you have you all tingly and hot, kissing your best friend for practice probably shouldn’t feel this good… right? You still don’t really know what you’re doing though, more just letting him kiss you than anything. When you part again, you murmur, “Suguru, I still don’t know what I’m meant to be doing.”

“Just follow my lead,” his eyes stay on your lips, now shiny from the shared kisses, “That’s all you gotta do.”

“But–”

His eyes roll when you go to argue more, “–Stop thinking so hard about it and let me kiss you.”

You can’t help but squirm slightly at that, “Okay.”

Satisfaction rolls off him in waves but thankfully for you he doesn’t comment any further, choosing to kiss you again. Instinctually, your hand reaches for his chest and grips onto his shirt, you need something to ground you.

Geto is taking this slow, he’s trying his best to be patient to savour this moment with you. He doesn’t want to push you too far too soon and have you stop whatever this is. If he were more sure of himself and where he stands with you, he’d have just asked you out like a sane person but he’s not sure and he didn’t want to pass on this opportunity.

He can feel this becoming something he covets, your soft lips on his, uncertain in your movements but so ready to be kissed by him. His heart pulls with a kind of possessiveness that’s not completely unfamiliar to him regarding you. The desire to not want anyone else to ever have this side of you overwhelming him.

It’s addictive, his kisses, his hold on you… him. You can feel yourself falling into him more, the longer you do this dance. You want more, you want him to kiss you more but you have no idea how to ask for that. Following his lead is good, it’s helpful but it’s starting to feel like he’s depriving you.

Pulling back, you force yourself to voice, “I want more…”

“Do you know what you’re asking for?” He sounds strained.

“You said you would teach me,” you remind. “So, teach me.”

His thumb presses into your jaw, “Open your mouth more then.”

Doing as he asks; he angles you just slightly before pressing his mouth to yours. The kiss fuller, his tongue licking into your mouth. It has a shiver running down your spine, the sensation new and mind numbing. It’s messier than before and so much more dizzying, you can’t even really keep up with his movements. Just letting him kiss you to his hearts content, feeling yourself getting drunk on his lips in the process.

You can’t even be sure if you’re doing this right but it doesn’t really feel like it matters, not when you’re this lost in it. Lips gliding against his, a small involuntary sound pulling from your chest at how he grips you tighter. Feeling like he gets impossibly closer, his kisses growing desperate the moment you whine into him.

Geto’s restraint is wearing thin, his desire for you growing tenfold at how you moan for him. He wants to touch you so much more, to put his hands on every part of you. The fear of ruining this moment keeps his hands planted firmly to your hip and cheek though and it’s killing him to not touch you more, more, more.

When you tentatively lick against his tongue he almost all but folds in that single moment, he feels so pathetically weak for you. So unsure of yourself and still trying to kiss him just as deeply as he is you. A guttural groan leaves him, a sound he’d be almost ashamed of if he didn’t notice the way you squirm at it.

You pull back from him and he can’t help but chase your lips, he doesn’t want to stop. An amused breath leaves you, “Hold on.”

He doesn’t understand what you need a moment for until you’re pulling his hands from you and moving to straddle him. Your thighs resting beside him, he feels dizzy with need, the need to touch you, to undress you. To have you naked and straddling his lap just like this could make his whole year. His hands are on your hips, tugging you up his lap just slightly further, encouraging.

Going to sit on him, you notice his erection and gasp. Heat rising to your face, suddenly so conscious of how heated this exchange has gotten, “Maybe we should stop…”

It’s almost like it hurts him to hear those words, “Do you want to stop?”

You wish you weren’t so certain, so quick to immediately know that, “… No, I don’t.”

“That’s good…” he smiles, “Cause I’m not done teaching yet.”

And then you’re kissing again, wet and sloppy. He’s holding back less, depraved in how he sucks your tongue into his mouth, bolder now. Revelling in every twitch you make against him, every mumbled whine you let out.

Mindlessly, your hips lightly roll downwards and his resulting grip holds you so still against him. A debauched moan leaving him at your unexpected movements, parting his mouth from yours with it. Geto’s head tucks into your chest, controlling his breathing, like he might snap at any moment.

You feel a little frantic, like you might’ve hurt him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“–Don’t– fuck– don’t apologise,” he can feel how warm you are through your pants and it’s making him feel feral.

Your fingers run through his hair, to comfort him, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” He huffs an unamused sound, “The only thing hurting me is how badly I wanna stuff you full.”

“Sugu–”

“–I know you can feel just how hard I am,” he pulls his head back to look at you, eyes blown wide and dark, “I’m practically aching for you.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, “Suguru… are you some kind of closeted perv?”

The question makes him laugh, “Wanna find out?”

“You were only supposed to teach me how to kiss…”

“Mhm, and you’re doing great,” his nose traces along your neck, inhaling you, “I still have so much more knowledge to give though.”

“Don’t be so– hah!” He licks at your skin before latching his mouth to the side of your throat, the pressure making you fidget in his lap. You feel so sensitive, so much more than what you thought you would.

When Geto pulls back from the mark he’s made, he blows softly on it, enjoying the way you shudder on top of him. “‘Don’t be so’ what?”

That’s right you were going to say something, he looks really nice right now though… eyes lidded and cheeks just slightly pink, lips slick. What were you going to say to him? His grin only grows, taking satisfaction in your glazed eyes and struggle to think. Averting your gaze, you try to remember what you wanted to say. The break in eye contact short lived since he grabs your chin and pulls you back.

“Come on, pretty, what were you gonna say?”

The effect he’s having on you is becoming too much, “I was gonna tell you to not be so depraved!”

“Hmm…” His head quirks at you, “You seem to like it though?”

How presumptuous of him, “You can’t know that!”

“You know… the human body is really interesting, for example…” he looks down to where you’re sitting over his prominent erection, “You’re so incredibly hot against me that I feel like I’m going insane,” smiling back up at you evilly, “Just how wet are you?”

The possibility of fainting is very real all of a sudden, his question has you hot everywhere. “I jus– I just told you to not be so depraved.”

“Yeah and I ignored you,” he deadpans, ignoring your indignant sounds. “Do you want me to stop?”

Again, you hate how badly you don’t want to stop. Right now, you think you’d let him do just about whatever he wanted to you. “Promise not to tease me later?”

“You know I can’t promise that.”

You pout back at him, “Then I’m not gonna say what I was thinking.”

His curiosity is sufficiently piqued, “Fine, I promise to try not to tease you later.”

“That’s not good enough.”

He tries again, “I promise.” You both stay looking at one another for a moment before he adds, “That’s as good as you’re getting.” And you know it to be true.

How to say this without embarrassing yourself, “You can… you can touch me… however you want, Suguru…”

He feels like he’s gone into shock, “What?”

“Did you not hear me?”

“No… I heard you,” he can’t help the way his cock jumps in excitement, “I’m just double checking I heard you right.” He leans in to taunt, “You’re gonna let me touch you however I want?”

“You said you had more knowledge to share,” It’s a dangerous game that you’re both playing.

He breathes out, “And if I wanna touch you in a depraved manner?”

So certain in yourself when you reply, “I want to be touched in a depraved manner… by you.”

Ah, so you’re trying to kill him, is the conclusion that Geto has come to. A breathless laugh leaves him, “For practice?”

“Sure,” you give him the answer you think he wants, in reality you just want to desperately be touched by him. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on in your life and it’s all his fault.

An amused sound leaves him, “Hah– Don’t know if I believe your answer there…” his hands are on your hips, slowly dragging you over his dick. Biting his lip at the feeling, cock jumping when your breath stutters.

“Wait– wait,” your hands hold onto his and he stops moving you. Realising now that he might’ve gotten carried away, that he should’ve double checked again.

When you get off his lap and onto shaky legs Geto feels his heart drop, only for it to suddenly pick up speed when you’re shuffling your pants down and off. Crawling back onto him in your panties, he – shamefully – has to put so much focus into keeping calm, so worked up he could cum from this alone.

“Yeah…” you murmur back at him, placing yourself right over his erection again, gasping at how hard he is, at how much more you can feel even through the layers left on, “I lied just now.”

He wants to ask more; he wants to know what you lied about but if he thought you were hot before then he’s melting now. You’re sitting on his dick in the cutest little panties, already so drenched from making out with him that the affection he feels for you fills up his chest. He’s way too distracted right now to ask what he wants.

“Be honest,” it feels like a chore to rip his gaze away from your pussy, “Are you trying to kill me?”

Geto’s eyes are all glassy and blown, cheeks flushed as he implores you, like he’s worried you’re actually trying to kill him. He’s making you feel shy, “It’s your fault I’m acting like this.”

That has him feeling a little prideful, “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” you confirm.

“In that case,” he’s slowly dragging your heated core over his erection again, “Should I fix it?”

You nod your head at him, “…Yeah”

The shivers that run through you make you gasp, the drag over Geto’s dick feeling so much better without your pants on. And yet you can’t help but feel so greedy, a kind of need in your bones that you’ve not experienced before.

He takes his hands away from your hips and you stop moving, whining pathetically at him, “Why–”

“–Keep doing it yourself,” he encourages.

“But–”

“Just do it how it feels good, use me for a bit,” he grins, “I wanna watch you pleasure yourself on me.”

“You really are a perv,” you mutter back at him.

His retort is quick, “Say that to me when your pussy’s not drooling all over my pants.”

Your cunt jumps at his words, “Are you gonna be this crude the whole time?”

“I can be worse if you want?”

“I can’t stand you.”

“We both know that’s not true,” he looks pointedly down to where your cunt is pulsing hot against him. “Now do us both a favour and move,” he hisses out through clenched teeth, apparently nearing his limit.

“You’re so bossy,” you frown, “I’ve never…” You’re at a loss for how to phrase it.

“Dry humped someone before?” He finishes for you, “Though with how wet you are–”

“Shh!” You cover his mouth with your palm, “Stop… talking about how wet I am.”

He pulls your hand away, “You know, I’m not surprised you’ve never–”

“–You don’t have to say it again,” you cut him off.

He rolls his eyes, “You hadn’t even made out with someone, I’m just saying that I didn’t ask you to use me without knowing.” He holds the side of your face gently, “Stop worrying about it so much, I know already… that you’re a huge virgin.”

His gentle touch greatly contrasts his teasing words. He’s so evil to you, “This is why I say you’re not nice.”

“Do you want me to be nice? To tell you how pretty you are and how good of a job you’re doing?” The reaction you have is almost visceral, skin heating and looking away from him. Even more embarrassed when he chuckles at you, “Got a bit of a praise kink, hmm?”

“You’re making this difficult for me.”

“You should’ve just done what I asked then,” he shrugs easily.

If you thought holding out would punish him more than you, then maybe you’d just get off him and go home to get yourself off but you want him to make you feel good. So instead, you’ll just give in and hope he shows you mercy, though by how this is going, he doesn’t seem to be the type.

Experimentally, you roll your hips down into Geto and he huffs out a breath like he wasn’t expecting it. Your hands move to his shoulders for purchase, using the leverage you have there to grind down into him harder.

He holds onto your waist. Not moving you, just resting his hands there, “Oh fuck– no– hah– no warning?”

You shake your head at him, brows pinched as you focus on seeking your own pleasure, “You– hnn– wanted me to– hah– to do as you asked.”

His head falls back slightly at the pleasure, a lazy smile on his face, “That’s true.”

The longer you do this, the slicker his pants get, you’re so unbelievably wet that it’s coating the material obscenely. Geto is in awe of it, eyes fixed on where you’re rutting down into him, marvelling at the damp spot on his pants, at how drenched your panties are. So soaked that they’re practically a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination with how it’s sticking to you.

He holds you still suddenly and the whine you let out is endearing, “Wait for a second,” he huffs.

Moving his hands to his belt to undo it, shuffling his pants down his legs. You lean up on your knees for a moment for him to drop them to his feet but before you can sit back down, his hand is holding you there. He runs the fingers of his other hand through your covered folds, a groan coming from the back of Geto’s throat.

“Seriously, you’re so fucking wet,” he reminds you.

“Sorry…”

He almost chokes, “‘Sorry?’” His fingers draw up to your clit, pressing into it, “Don’t be fucking sorry… I’m nearly salivating because of how drenched you are.”

That catches you off guard, “Sugu–”

He doesn’t let you speak, “–This wet because of me? It’s my fault you said?”

You bite your lip, his fingers circling your clit deliciously, “Mhm.”

His eyes brighten, “Perfect. Aren’t you just perfect for me?”

Your legs start shaking and he lets you drop back to his lap, one less layer between the two of you now. He’s so warm and hard and if you weren’t straddling him, you’d be clenching your thighs together for relief.

“You are doing such a good job for me,” he whispers low against your ear, “Having the most perfect reactions.”

You whine at his praise, “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Yeah,” he licks against your ear, “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

His size is honestly daunting, large and thick as you sit on it, throbbing underneath you. “Suguru?”

He noses at your cheekbone, “Mmm?”

“I’m worried…”

“About?”

“What if you don’t fit…” you look down to his lap, “I just mean, you feel…big.”

“I don’t have to put it in you,” he comforts but he can’t help the way he twitches at your genuine concern over taking him.

“But you want to?”

“What sort of a question is that?” he holds you down while he grind up into you, “Does it feel like I want to?”

“I was jus– ah!– I was just checking,” you sulk back.

Your mind melts, getting away from you. He’s rutting up into you in a way that has you shaking and your breaths stuttering. On edge for so long while sat in his lap, you want to meet his grinds, you want to move your hips into him but his grip is firm and steady.

It’s honestly a little pitiful how quickly he’s building you up, your insides clenching with the pleasure. The drag back and forth on his clothed cock driving you slowly to insanity. His boxers almost as ruined as your panties, your slick coating his covered dick. The glide much smoother than what you’d expect. It’s like you can feel him throbbing for you and it makes you want to fully take him even more.

Your own thoughts riling you up, the idea of him sitting so heavily inside you makes you huff out a whine. A sound that Geto relishes in, in fact, he’s relishing in all of this. You’re so malleable to his will, he thinks in this state, you’d let him do whatever he pleases. The thought alone nearly has his eyes rolling.

He needs you to cum like this, he needs to see it. How you shake and writhe on top of him, the expression you make. He wants to make you cum in so many different ways just to see how your expressions might differ each time.

It’s relentless, how he humps up into you, how he pulls you down into him. Your clit catching on the tip of his dick making you jump each time, shocks of pleasure running through you. You never thought something like this would feel so damn good.

Fingers grappling at the material of his shirt, pleasure wracking your body as he draws you closer and closer, “Stop– ah!– if you keep going I’ll– hnn–”

“–So soon?” he hums, “I don’t know if– hah– I believe you… you’re gonna have to prove it,” he leers back at you.

His eyes on you feel so consuming, calm and watching but so hungry that it’s driving you to the edge. It feels like you’re melting, so warm and unbelievably close. Body twitching on top of him with your impending orgasm. You don’t even get to try and warn him again, sounds you’ve never heard yourself make falling from your mouth before you can think to stop them. Trembling with the force of your orgasm, feeling so weak as you slump into him, eyes wet and bleary.

Geto feels like he’s vibrating, watching you come undone on top of him making him feel too much at once. His arms wrap around you and hold you close, hands smoothing up and down your back. Lips close to your ear when he speaks, “You know… you make some really cute noises when you cum.”

Lazily, you look up at him through your lashes. Feeling a stupid kind of pleasure running through your body, still jolting slightly with the come down. “Stop trying to embarrass me.”

“I’m only being honest,” his hands slip under your shirt, groping your waist, “You getting embarrassed is just a bonus.”

“Have you always been this sadistic?”

He leans in and presses a kiss to the side of your mouth, “Who knows?” He smiles.

Turning, you catch his mouth with yours. Kissing him properly, hands tickling the back of his neck as you try to kiss him like he did you earlier. His hands on your waist grip you, lips imploring. So needy in how he returns your kiss, all but whining when you part. A string of saliva connects your mouths and he wipes your lower lip with his thumb, pressing it to your lips like he might push it inside.

Eyes lost as he dances his digit over your plush lips, “You’re beautiful,” is all he says, gazing at you with so much affection.

Opening your mouth, you gently take his thumb between your teeth. Biting so very lightly before flicking your tongue over the tip of it. Geto looks like he blushes at the action, pulling his hand back.

“Seems as though I’m not the only tease,” he accuses.

You mutter back at him, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His compliment had made you feel so soft and tingly that you didn’t know what to say or how to react. It’s not like he’s never complimented you before, you just weren’t expecting him to call you beautiful so earnestly. Being given compliments by someone has never made your insides flutter as much as they did just now.

He hums at you, redirecting his attention. Pulling at the hem of your shirt to show what he wants; you lift your arms up so he can remove it from you properly. Feeling so bare on top of him but not really minding, still too blissed on your orgasm to care.

Geto doesn’t waste any time, groping your tits in his large hands. Rolling your nipples experimentally and grinning wide at how you twitch and bite back moans at it. “My, you’re sensitive.”

Teeth digging into your lower lip to stop the pitiful noises he’s threatening to pull from you, “Try not to sound so pleased about that.” Your blood is still thumping through your ears, pleasure fresh in your bones.

“Would you rather I be upset?”

“I’d rather you not make– ah!–”

His wet mouth wrapping around your nipple has your words cutting off suddenly, back arching into him. Huffing out breaths at how he flicks his tongue over your sensitive skin, dizzy from the heat he’s making you feel. Pulling back with an obscene pop, licking at you a final time while keeping eye contact before swapping to your neglected tit.

He’s playing with you, or he’s waiting for you to say you’re ready for more… no he’s definitely just playing with you. Taking his time leaving marks all over your tits, even biting some places. Neglecting himself in favour of teasing you to insanity, though it can’t be that painful for him considering how he’s enjoying this immensely.

Whining at him, “You– hah!– You’re gonna leave too many marks,” he ignores you in favour of making a new mark to the top of your breast, “Suguru!”

Threading your fingers through his hair, you pull him back with a tug. You’re frowning at him but your eyes are so wet and dazed and you’re nearly completely naked on top of him. Covered in hickeys and his saliva, despite your pulled brows you look so euphoric.

Feigning ignorance, he simpers, “What’s wrong with that?” A finger trails over the marks he’s left, grazing a sensitive nipple in his journey, “You seemed to liked it.”

Swallowing your pride, you tell him directly, “I want more.”

“You want to cum again?” He muses, “Greedy.”

Taking offence at his accurate guess, you add, “I want… you to as well.”

Geto ignores the thumping of his heart, “Take off your panties then.”

“But…”

A brow raises at you, “‘But’ what?”

You don’t really want to tell him about how shaky your legs are, you’re a little concerned they’ll give out as soon as you try to stand. He really doesn’t need the ego boost right now, “Nothing.”

Moving off him so so carefully, you keep your hands on his shoulders as you stand between his spread legs. With the way your knees are wobbling and fingers gripping to him so harshly, it doesn’t take him long to figure out that you’ve not really got a great sense of balance right now. A smug smile gracing his lips when he sees you fight to figure out how you’re going to take off your panties with your hands on him.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” You quickly answer.

“Then take them off,” a finger pulls at the waistline of your underwear only to let it snap back to you. At your continued struggle he adds, “Or do you want me to take them off for you?”

You look to him, eyes hopeful for mercy, “Please?”

“Sure,” his tone polite but you’re not sure you’re that trusting of him.

Thankfully, his hands slide them delicately down your legs, brushing against your thighs. Though, he’s an opportunist and he uses this chance to grip at your thighs, pulling at your skin further and further up your legs. Humming low to himself at the slick coating your inner thighs, unable to help himself when he drags his fingers through your folds, touching your pussy directly.

“Fuck, alright–” He bites out, pulling you to his lap suddenly, “I’ve reached my limit.”

“Wait,” he stops his frantic movements and you pull at his shirt, “Take it off.”

He doesn’t even tease, just immediately does as you asked, hastily tugging his shirt off. It’s dropped less than gracefully onto the floor. Your fingers dance along his shoulders, down his chest. You want to take it all in a bit more but he’s flopping onto his back and shucking his boxers down enough to pull his cock free.

The size of him almost has your eyes bulging, you wonder how he’s been so patient when he’s this hard and achy looking. Tip flushed deep pink and already smothered in his own leaky precum, your cunt throbs while looking at him. Caught between concern over his size and a desperate need to be full of him.

“You don’t have to take it but please just–” He grabs and moves you until you’re hovering over it, “Sit on it at least.”

Lowering yourself cautiously, you sit on him lightly. He can feel your heat and it makes him shiver, “I don’t need you to be gentle with me,” he snickers, “Split your pussy open on my dick.”

Geto doesn’t even give you the chance to do it yourself, hands tugging you down onto him with more force. A gasp ripping from you when he immediately starts dragging you back and forth on his whole length. Stifled groans leave him from under you, his chest vibrating under your palm.

“Sugu–”

“–Sorry,” his brows are knitted together, “I got– nnh– impatient.”

It’s so wet, slipping over him repeatedly, the head of his cock nudging your clit over every pass. Your teeth dig into your lower lip to fight the whines bubbling inside you but eventually you give up and just let yourself moan. He seems to like it anyways, cock jerking at the soft breaths and whimpers leaving you.

He’s on the brink of stupidity, you’re so soft and unbelievably warm and his tip keeps catching on your hole and it makes him shudder each time. Looking down, he watches the way you’re coating his cock in more of your slick, cock shiny with how wet you are. Lewd sounds of your pussy grinding over him fill the room and now he’s thinking about you creaming around him. He’s never wanted something so bad in his life.

“Sugu,” you call out to him and he dopily pulls his eyes to yours, “Do you think I could just…” when his cockhead catches on your hole again, you press down, not even taking him in any real way and yet still stretching slightly for it.

His grip hardens on you, holding you completely still, “There’s no ‘just’ anything.” He struggles to breath out evenly, “Not with how tight you are.”

“I wanna feel full though,” you try wiggling down into him but he’s truly got you in a vice like hold.

His cock twitches as excitement rushes through him, “You asking me to take your virginity, pretty?”

Shy when you ask, “Would you?”

He’s not passing on the chance to pick on you a little bit, “How bad do you want it?”

He can feel the way your hole flutters when you think about his question, your answer seemingly downplaying how you feel, “Pretty bad.”

“Hmm,” He pretends to think about his answer.

You’re taking issue with his faux deep thought, “Sugu, stop acting like you’re not…”

“Go on,” he encourages, “‘Like I’m not’ what?”

“Like you’re not…” you look away from him, mumbling out, “Aching for it…”

“Oh? You aching for it?” The smile he’s wearing can be heard in his words.

He sounds way too gleeful over this and it’s ticking you off, “Nope,” you pop the ‘p’ as you lift yourself off him.

“Don’t be like that,” he sits up, “I’m not letting you go anywhere… not when I know you’re aching for my cock.”

“I did not say that.”

“That’s what I heard you say,” he shrugs.

Geto’s arms wrap around you only to throw you down onto the bed, gone from you for a second while he shoves his boxers off quickly. And then he’s crawling over you, hands tracing up your body, relishing in your reactions to him.

“You really are so sensitive,” he mutters, trailing a finger up your thigh and watching your skin break out in goosebumps.

He’s being so unbearable, the need you feel is so loud and he’s here taunting you, “You’re so frustrating.”

“You’re just a needy little thing,” he returns, “So desperate to be filled even though you’re not prepared in the slightest.”

“Then prepare me,” you whine back.

He finds this about you cute, your insatiable greed, your back and forth between shy and so horny that you’re getting pissy at him. “I should teach you some manners,” he grumbles.

You spread your legs for him obscenely, growing even more impatient. “Please, touch me,” you pull his hand towards your pussy, “please.”

If he ever gets the chance to touch you like this again he’s going to torture you because right now you’re playing so completely unfairly that he can’t even think to deny you. His brows pull up as he flushes, finding himself doing exactly what you wanted, fingers gliding through your folds.

The way you keen at his touch almost makes it worth it. “You don’t play fair,” he complains.

“Someone lead by– hah!– po– poor example, I guess,” you shudder when he slips a single finger inside you.

Geto groans at the snug heat of your cunt, closing his eyes to take a quick breath at just how you feel wrapped around his digit. The fear or cumming the minute he gets inside you is real; he’s going to have to develop an insane amount of self-restraint between then and now.

“You’re hilarious,” he leans down to whisper in your hear, “Now shhh…” He draws his finger back before fucking it back in, lewd wet sounds of your pussy filling the silence, “Hear that?” He keeps repeating his movements, taking immense joy in how you writhe under him, “I think… pretty things that are this wet and begging to get fucked… don’t get to mock me.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, eyes glassy when you look up at him, “Don’t– nnh– be sooo mean.”

“You haven’t seen me be mean,” he pulls his finger back just to stuff another inside you, grinning when you arch your back at it, “I’ve only been nice to you today.”

“Be nicer,” you pout.

“Don’t wanna be,” he smiles graciously back at you.

The fingers he has in you scissor to spread you open, pleased hums leaving him at your responses. Your mouth drops open and legs shake, fighting to close but unable to with how he’s in-between them. He’s hitting all the perfect spots inside you, crooking his digits to rub against your inner walls in a way you’re never able to reach.

He’s getting you so close to cumming that you want to hide from him, somehow feeling so much more vulnerable like this than when you were sitting in his lap earlier. Slowly, he works you to the point of taking another of his fingers, fucked open on three of them now. Your toes curl and your thighs hoist themselves on either side of his waist. Hips grinding into his hand, meeting his movements.

Geto finds the frenzied and desperate grinds into his hand adorable, satisfied with just how much more greedy you get when you’re this turned on. He already knows you must be close, your sudden drive to fuck down onto his fingers a dead giveaway to him.

He adds his thumb, rubbing circles into your clit. You jerk at it, tits bouncing in a way that has him drooling. To be honest, if you weren’t practically begging to get dicked down earlier he would’ve put his mouth on you. Maybe if he weren’t also desperate to put his cock in you he’d do it anyways but for now, he’ll settle for fingerfucking you to insanity and then shoving you full of his dick.

Your voice comes out smaller than you want, “Sugu, I think–”

“–I know,” his eyes are bright, fully aware of how close you are.

He can feel the way you twitch and clench down on him, back arching off the bed. Speeding up his movements just to get you there that much quicker and when you’re about to cum all over his fingers… he pulls them from you. Leaving you without your orgasm but so high that he could blow on your clit and you might cum.

You whine at him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Expression dopey and angry, sexually frustrated from the cruel and unexpected edging he just put you through. “What the hell, Suguru?!”

His grin is wolfish, merciless expression painted over with faux pity, “I’m so sorry, pretty. Were you close?” A hand cradles your face, soothing you for something that is completely his fault.

“Why would you do that?” All he’s succeeded in is making you needier than before, squirming under him with no way to find relief.

His answer is simple, “Just to see how you’d react.”

“I shouldn’t have hung out with you today.”

“Don’t be like that,” he guides his dick to your cunt, “I’m ‘bout to treat you so good.”

“If you don’t let me cum we’re not friends anymore,” you warn.

He snickers at how genuine you’re being, “Alright.”

“I mean it, Suguru.”

“I know you do,” he presses a kiss to your temple, “That’s why it’s a little tempting.”

You whine at him, “Can you stop being so cruel for a moment?”

He blinks at you, “What do I get if I do?”

“What do you want?”

“I want to be the first person you go on a date with.”

His request confuses you, “What? Why?”

He doesn’t answer you, “Those are my terms,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Okay! Fine, yes, whatever you want,” you nod at him.

He smiles and starts pushing into you, the stretch is a lot and it aches more than his fingers. You’re trying to breathe through it but it seems like he is too. His thumb is on your clit, trying to get you to relax for him. “St– stop– hah– fuck!– stop clenching so tight,” he hisses through his teeth.

“I can’t– nnh– help it,” your nails dig into his skin.

His lashes flutter when he gets his tip inside you, groan leaving him. “Wh– when I s–say date I mean– hnnn– a real date. A ‘I take you out and then try kissing you at the end of it’ date.”

For some reason, that makes your insides twist and you squirm. “Wh– whatever you– nnh– want, Sugu.”

“Yeah? You’re gonna– hah– dress up and let me take you out for your first ever date?” His fingers grip at his blanket below.

Your eyes roll as he slips further inside you, babbling out, “If you– hnn– let me cum? I’ll date only you.”

Geto sputters at that, hips driving forwards on their own making you both moan. His upper body drops down to you, lips ghosting over your neck and cheek before taking yours in a sweet kiss. He knows you’re out of your mind horny and probably not even sure of what you just said but he’s going to live in this moment while he fucks you.

He’s kissing your breath away while he slowly fills you to the hilt, trying so hard to be careful with you. His lips successfully distract you from the ache you were feeling, melting into him as he licks at your tongue.

Parting from you only when he’s balls deep inside you, head flopping to your shoulder as he moans. Struggling to keep it together, you’re wrapped so snug and hot around him, pulsing so tightly around his aching cock that he feels like he might cum at any second.

“Sugu?” When he hums, you continue, “Move please?”

You wiggle your hips into him but he’s quick to stop you with a firm hand, “If you don’t want this ending right now then you need to give me a moment.”

“Hmm, that’s awfully cute of you, Suguru,” you tease him.

“That’s bold,” he licks at the shell of your ear, “I’m going to ruin you.”

“More than you already have?”

He agrees, “So much more.”

It feels like an eternity before he’s finally dragging his hips back, that alone has your breath stuttering. He wants to set a punishing pace so bad; he wants to fuck you until you’re mad but he starts slow. Thrusting back into you at a languid pace, still carefully opening you up on his fat dick. It’s your first time and as much as he loves torturing you, he also loves pleasing you.

You’re scrabbling for purchase at his leisurely pace anyways, not expecting the heavy drag of his cock to feel this mind numbing. He chuckles lowly at the way you’re already weak for him, though it’s completely his fault considering all he’s put you through up until now.

“I think you may be the awfully cute one,” he smirks at you.

Your insides tug at his tone, “You can– hnn– be quiet.”

Leaning up, he rest on his knees, pushing your leg back and up. He has a great view of you taking him like this, able to see all your reactions. “I can but your pussy really likes when I talk.”

He’s so smug and he gets to be too because he’s right, his lightly mocking tone and that polite smile he wears is a deadly combo that has your cunt seizing around him. “I like it– hah– better when you’re nice to me.”

“You’re taking me all so well, pretty,” he praises, “Pussy sucking me right back in, so greedily.”

Your eyes roll back at how he thrusts into you, new angle hitting deeper than before, “That’s not– hnn– being nice!”

“Really?” He watches the way your hole clenches and feels how much wetter you get around him, “‘Cause you seemed to like it a lot.”

You bite your lip as you look up at him, silently asking for him to fuck you.

He looks down his nose at you, “What are you asking for?”

Sulking, “I want you to– hah– move more.”

“You should’ve just said that then,” he crooks his head to the side at you.

The slow drag out is the same as always until he’s fucking himself back into you sharply, a gasped moan stumbling from you as your hands seek stability in the mattress below. Your whine is dragged out when he repeats it over and over, brows knitted together in your pleasure.

“That’s a nice reaction,” he comments smugly.

You only hum at him, too consumed by the feeling of him shoving his dick in and out over and over in such a relentless pace that you’re seeing stars. Either you’ve closed your eyes or they’ve rolled to the back of your head because you’re not seeing much of anything right now.

Your eyes are welling with tears, chest heaving with your breaths. The stretch in your leg increasing when Geto pushes down into you further, pushing back on your leg with it. He’s basically folded it over his shoulder, you had no idea you were capable of bending this much. You’re so dazed and fucked stupid when you look to him lazily, he looks so pretty like this. Hunched over you and driving his cock in and out of your tight heat, his hair hanging messily over his shoulders and face as his expression twists in bliss.

Reaching a hand up, you tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear, “You’re pretty.”

You say it so dopily that he wonders if you know what you’ve just said, “I’m fucking you to the point you’re cock drunk and you think I’m pretty?”

A shudder runs through you at his voice, “Mhm, and– ah!– you have– hnn– have a pretty voice.”

God help him, he’s about to cum from you calling him pretty. “St– stop– hnn– talking.”

“Sugu, you feel so–”

He cuts you off with a hand over your mouth, he has a feeling that whatever you were about to say would have him cumming inside you. “You’re so cute but I need you to shut up before I cum.”

From behind his hand, you look ruined. Tears slipping from your eyes, he can feel the way you’re drooling against his skin. The only sounds in the room his grunts, your muffled moans and the slick squelching of you swallowing his cock.

You want to keep telling him how pretty he is and how good he’s making you feel but even without him hindering you, you feel as though you may be beyond words now. Brain not able to form very cohesive thoughts as of this moment let alone speak them. He has you feeling so full, his cock throbbing against your walls in a way that has your skin thrumming.

Geto’s eyes lock down on where he’s stuffing himself into your little cunt, he feels himself short circuiting at the sight. Pussy bulging around him, struggling to take him all, dick so shiny with your slick. White creamy ring at the base of himself, it’s messy and lewd and it has him feeling so unbelievably obsessed with your cunt.

Thinking distantly that he’s going to do his best to impress you on your date so he can have you again, next time he’s definitely licking your pussy. Debauched groans vibrate in his chest at the thought, he’s going to make this so unforgettable for you, he needs you to be as obsessed with him as he is you. He’s going to be so much worse after this and he was already down pretty bad.

Your hand grabs at his wrist, trying to tug it away so you can speak. He pulls back out of curiosity, “I– hnn– I’m– ah!–” Giving up trying to warn him after a particular thrust has you crying out, there’s no real point in warning him anyways.

He grins at your inability to say anything meaningful, “I’ve gotcha, go ahead and cum for me.”

Of course he knew exactly what you were trying to say, how does he already know your body so perfectly. He leans down to you, impossibly close, just to kiss your cheek and say, “Come on, pretty, I wanna feel you squeeze me tight before I cum in you.”

Crude and obscene and effective because his words make you shudder as you suddenly cum around him. A little frantic in how you squirm under him, eyes rolling as your hips fight to fuck yourself onto his thrusts. Pitiful whimpers of his name leaving you repeatedly, the only really comprehensive thing you’re able to utter out.

Geto’s orgasm is immediately triggered by yours, he was hoping he’d get to play with you a little more but as soon as he felt the sinful way you gripped him while you came, he was done for. Your cunt pulsating around him milking him for all he’s worth, he’s cumming so much so deeply. His hips flush to yours as he only grinds into you to ride out both your highs.

He doesn’t think he’s ever cum that much in his life and he’s unsure if it’s because it’s you or because he held back for so long. His weight drops to you as he catches his breath, feeling spent and so drunk on your pussy that if he thought too hard about you he’d get hard again.

Your hand taps lightly at his shoulder, words all garbled when you speak, “Sugu, too heavy.”

Shoving his arms under you, he rolls until you’re on top of him. Cock slipping from you in the process and it has you letting out a cute whine.

“It’s leaking out of me,” you warn him.

He groans, “Don’t say that.”

You rest your check to his collarbone, “Why not?”

“I’ll get turned on again.”

Rolling your eyes at him, “You’re an insatiable pervert.”

“You’re not much better.”

His hands tickle up your sides, repeating the motion over, it’s making you feel sleepy. “You’re still worse.”

He just hums at you, apparently not caring to argue back. “You gonna be okay to shower?”

“In a bit… and only if you carry me the whole time.”

He laughs at that, “Sure.”

You draw mindless patterns on his chest with your finger, “So… where are you taking me on my first date?”

𝒂.𝒏. this was actually a request that i got carried away with,, my requests aren't even open i just fucked with the idea that hard hehe.... i hope you all enjoyed and thank you very much for reading !!!

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[⚠︎] — 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈.ᐟ do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

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