#most likely you mistaken me for someone else

[apomaro-mellow]

For Steddie Bingo how about some Regency!AU? 🎩

Steddie Bingo Prompt: Regency AU

Next to him, the lady clapped loudly. Her name might have been Mary or Mary Anne, he couldn't quite recall. There was a din of applause around him, in fact. One that he chose not to join in.

"You didn't enjoy the play?", Mary-something asked.

"Plays are not quite to my taste", Steve said.

"Don't take him so serious", Nathaniel said from the other side of her. "He's in the middle of a feud with one of the actors."

"Who?"

Steve blocked them out as Nathaniel told all of his business. His eyes were on that one certain actor, dressed and made up like Puck. His intense stare could have been mistaken for ire. It all worked in his favor. No one had any idea what he truly felt for the actor or his work.

As usual, after the show, Nathaniel had the actors back in his home. He liked the novelty. And they were natural entertainers. Even off the stage, they liked to tell jokes and sing songs and fill the house with noise late into the night. And just as every time that Steve was invited to join, he spent most of the evening, either glaring distantly or very brazenly antagonizing one man in particular.

Edward Munson was born to be on stage. He lavished in having eyes on him. Even when Steve insulted his performance in front of a crowd. Steve had a drink in his hand and was leaning against the bookshelf, watching as Edward dazzled people on the piano.

"You really enjoy being the center of attention, don't you?", Steve spoke up when the song finished.

"Ah, here comes the ever dower Mr. Harrington", Edward played a few foreboding notes on the keys.

Steve pushed off the bookshelf and stalked towards him. "I suppose I just don't find any joy watching you parade yourself."

"As opposed to being paraded on someone else's leash?"

"Perhaps you shouldn't be let out of the house at all."

"And deprive the world of my talents?" To punctuate, Edward played a more chipper tune.

"You call that talent?"

"No, Mr. Harrington. This is talent." Edward began to play a slow melody, one that changed the entire atmosphere of the room. Then he began to sing, his warm voice filling the air.

Steve wasn't surprised that he had enthralled an entire room. He wasn't surprised that Edward could change genres so easily. He'd seen him in plenty of roles by now, both comedic and tragic. The first time he'd seen him, he was bringing the crowd to tears as Juliet.

When the song ended, Steve backed off with a scoff and the night's entertainments continued. It was still going on as tonight turned into tomorrow and they were able to use the noise to hide as they ran off together in one of the rooms.

"You are an incurable bitch”, Edward said.

“Last week, I was ‘incorrigible’.” Steve set his drink, nearly empty, onto a desk in the room. “Don’t you love me anymore?”

“Incurable, incorrigible, incredible, your ability to bitch knows no bounds and it makes my desire grow for you each day.” Edward closed the distance and kissed him before pushing him onto the chaise.

“You still make very little sense to me”, Steve said as his lover climbed on top of him.

“Dealing in absurdity is an actor’s trade, my dear. But you make perfect sense to me.”

They traded no more words then. Because while he was a master orator, the stage had also taught Edward to be fluent in body language as well.

@steddiebingo

Bingo card:

[suiana]

✎ yandere! criminal who is helplessly in love with you, devoting his life to you and keeping your affections solely on him, and him only.

✎ yandere! criminal who can't help but flirt with you despite being so beaten up. i mean you're just so cute! why wouldn't he flirt?

✎ yandere! criminal who always reminds you that he has the upperhand no matter what his condition is like. he likes playing dirty.

✎ yandere! criminal who commits even more crimes after seeing you talk with someone who isn't him. doctor, you just never learn, do you?

"remember doctor, you may be smarter, but i always have the upperhand."

the criminal mutters, smirking as he leans into your touch. you merely click your tongue, grimacing at the his antics before going back to tending to his injuries.

you were his doctor, illegally caring for one of the most wanted criminals in the country simply because he was once your childhood friend. you knew it was wrong, you knew you should have rejected him the second he came stumbling to your apartment one day with a bloody wound.

but you didn't. you took him in and treated his injury, nursed him back to health and even offered your place as refuge if he ever needed medical attention again.

unfortunately, you failed to realise that the man was crazy in love with you, infatuated to such an extent that he would harm others without a second thought.

"please, you must understand, i've only ever wanted you to love me and not some other bastard. if you didn't talk to him i wouldn't have needed to hurt that guy."

he mutters, looking at you with such a fond expression that you would've mistaken for love. you really didn't know how to respond to his affections. after all, he was your childhood friend turned criminal. things would be even worse for you if you reciprocated him.

so you did the best thing possible and just ignored him whenever he went off on another tangent of his delusional rambles. you daren't speak up and reject him again. oh no, it happened once and you didn't want it to happen again.

"you look so sexy when you ignore me."

the criminal coos, placing his hand over yours as he brings it to his cheek. you uncomfortably maintain eye contact with him, grimacing as you allow him to mutter and talk about his love. it's okay... just tolerate it...

"oh baby, don't you get it? everything i do is for you."

yeah, you know. he tells you all the time. bout how all his crimes are dedicated for you or done in your name. of course he never says it to the public, he doesn't want you to get jailed! though, he can't help but fantasize about how romantic it would be if you two were both wanted criminals on the run together.

"why must you torment me like this? all i've ever wanted was for you to love me back."

he sighs, not noticing your pursed lips or obvious discomfort.

"never smile for anyone else. only i should have the honour of seeing it. all those other fools will never worship you the way you should be worshipped."

you can't help but twitch at his words. ugh, he always preaches about worshipping you and stuff. it's so... is he mentally insane too?

you get the love part, but the worshipping? you won't be surprised if he prays to you when he's on the brink of his death.

"no one gets me like you. that's why i love you so much."

your childhood friend mutters, finally letting go of your hand after pressing a tender kiss to the inside of your wrist. you allow your hand to limp by your side, standing like an npc as you continue to stare at him as he continues his dramatic talk.

you never knew he yapped so much before. when he was younger he was more introverted, more silent and just clingy. now he can't shut up. or maybe that's just around you.

you continue to listen to the male yapping, not really processing his words. hopefully it'll be over soon... but your hopes were crushed as you freeze in place, eyes widening in horror as he smiles widely at you, eyes fully deranged as he suddenly brings your hands to his cheeks, forcing your cold hands to cradle his cheeks.

"i mean, don't you love me too?"

shit, how do you answer this without meeting a bad fate?

[lymtw]

Satoru who is just so obsessed with you and actually becomes somewhat jealous when others make you laugh to the point where you're blushing. He's quick to misunderstand a situation when it comes to men getting overly comfortable with you. From what you understand, the jealousy doesn't run deep, but he does wonder sometimes—stupidly, if someone else will catch your eye and test your fidelity to him.

"How is it being with Gojo all the time? I get seeing him at work, but going home with him and spending all your time together...? It's got to be exhausting, no?"

This nobody doesn't even know Satoru. He's never gotten near him—never even spoken a word to him. It's infuriating that he even assumed you're exhausted from spending time with the person you the love the most, but you smile anyway, and respond as politely as you can.

"Satoru can be a handful at times, but that's one of the many things I love about him. He's funny, and even though sometimes he acts like he runs around without a brain, he is one of the smartest men I know. He takes care of me." You chuckle, recalling a warm, fond memory.

Satoru watches your conversation with the man from the bar on the other side of the room. He sees you smiling and nodding, and his heart starts beating faster. He understands that he has to keep his cool. What is he missing that you can find in someone else? You're with him for a reason, and you've never been one to hide things from him. There's no need to feel insecure.

He knows he can't stop you from talking with other people. You can interact with whoever you want because his jealousy isn't to be mistaken with control, but it's hard not to stay by your side all the time. You've never given him any reason to doubt the strength of your relationship, but he just doesn't trust other men around you. He knows men are dogs, chopping it up with any pretty girl with no regards to whether they're in a relationship or not. What he does know is that he wholeheartedly trusts you. You would let him know if someone was taking it too far, wouldn't you?

VS

Satoru who is so obsessed with you and content with the fact that you are almost always within arms reach of him. He feels so secure knowing he gets to leave work with you every day only to spend more time with you at home.

At night, you lay facing each other, one of your legs thrown over his hip and one of his hands running up and down your waist. You talk about insignificant things that result in significant memories. You whisper and giggle about the dumbest things, until your sentences don't make sense because of how tired both of you are. You cling onto him and tell him you love him, lazy kisses pressed to his lips with every cliffhanging word that is threatened by sleep.

On lazy Sunday afternoons, you lie in bed together watching scary movies. He knows the plots aren't real, and that the monsters and hideous things that appear aren't real either, but your fear of them is. He purposely chooses these movies because he knows you won't focus on them and turn to give him all the attention when you're too scared. Anything to distract you from the terrifying things that are seemingly about to pop out of the screen. While he pretends he's focusing on the movie, he grins as you begin to shower him with your affectionate kisses. One for his neck, one for his cheek, oh... there goes another one for his neck. He lays there, a few chuckles slipping when you kiss his chin and his nose. You mumble little sweet nothings to him that have him grinning ear to ear. He can physically feel the love you hold for him and it's heavenly.

Satoru loves that you've always been shy about your needs. He loves the way you react when he kisses you anywhere that isn't your face. He knows neck kisses are a weakness for you and he uses that knowledge against you when he wants to see you get flustered.

He'll come up behind you, put his hands on your waist and start kissing your shoulder, slowly trailing the sweetness towards your neck. He knows he's affecting you because after a minute of him mouthing up your sensitive points, you stopped what you were doing and just felt him. His hands peel your shirt off your stomach and glide upward, towards your chest. He can hear your shaky breathing more clearly.

"'toru?" You call, meekly, your hands clenched into fists.

"Hm?" He gives your breasts a squeeze, not letting up on his work on your neck.

"Satoru," you repeat, clear surrender in your tone. You use his full first name to grab his attention, yet it still sounded so sweet.

"You can do it, baby. Tell me what you want."

You get so nervous when he starts talking like this. It makes your chest feel tight, and your stomach swarms with butterflies. You want to run away, but his hands are so warm and he's holding you like you're the most fragile thing to ever exist.

You turn around and quickly bury your face in his chest. Satoru caught a glimpse of the rosiness dusting your cheeks, and the tips of your ears were noticeably glowing, the cute reactions earning a chuckle from him. His hands dragged down your back, and he palmed your ass before going slightly lower to clasp around the backs of your thighs. He lifted you, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

"My pretty girl is so shy. Don't worry, I know what you like," he says, directing both of you to the bedroom.

[nmakii]

Yan!Alastor with a sweet little doe reader that loves to stay close to them and is rather clingy? Cuddles are a must, light kisses on the chin, wanting to walk together with held hands, physical contact is basically their love language! 🥰 even going for his fluffy ears cause who wouldn’t?? I love your writing btw! It makes me happy whenever you have something new for us ❤️

SAY YOU’LL NEVER LEAVE ME!

— yandere!alastor x clingy!reader

— AGH!! this made me scream thank you sm i love you!!! violence warning! pure yandere fluff 😲

is in love with how clingy you are! you refuse to leave his side, and he didn’t even need to force you! alastor loves a submissive darling who’d do what he desires without asking

not to mention how innocent you are! how did such a sweet little doe such as yourself get into hell? st. peter must have been mistaken!

because of your pure nature, alastor would only want the best things for his darling! just promise him to be his forever, and the rest of hell will be in the palm of your hand.

alastor himself isn’t one for physical touch though. he doesn’t mind keeping you at his side nor does he mind the kisses, don’t get it wrong, he adores your kisses! touching his ears though may be harder to adjust to.

he hates the reminder that he is a prey animal, he himself enjoys being the predator. your gentle touch against his fluffy ears and antlers as he twitches under your touch makes him quite uncomfortable to the fact you’re touching his weakest and most sensitive spot.

eventually, he grows to accept the fact that to be yours, he must make some sort of sacrifice. and if it’s this, so be it…

although, because of your clingy behavior, it only raises his possessiveness. seeing you even talking to someone else would make his blood boil.

especially if it is someone alastor has conflict with; seeing you even be approached by lucifer or vox would make him jealous; his smile would grow strained, his murderous intent thick in the air, enough to cut with a knife.

against lucifer or fellow overlords, alastor wouldn’t act upon it. despite his huge ego, he knows better than to pick a fight with demons who are more powerful than him.

to those who are lesser than him… unfortunately, they’re not as lucky.

of course though, being the gentleman he is, he refuses to taint your soul with all the carnage and bloodshed he commits to keep you as his sweet doe.

‘LIVE ON AIR’ the neon sign in alastor’s broadcast station lit up as the speakers across pentagram city came to life. a man begging for his life, screaming as various noises were heard. one could only assume the radio demon was tearing his soul to pieces.

the sound of flesh being ripped apart was gruesome as the sinner’s bloodcurdling screams grew weaker. the sound of his corpse being hit against the walls of the station at least 40 times until alastor threw the body onto the floor.

when the man screamed no more, alastor’s voice was heard, sighing deeply, as if all his pent-up stress had just been released before joyful music started playing in the background. “good evening, sinners! take this broadcast as a reminder not to mess with what belongs to me! lest you’d like me to feast on your screams.” alastor warned before he laughed maniacally. and then he was gone once more.

after releasing all of his fury, he returned back to your shared bedroom, his cute little doe in pretty jammies he bought for you. so comfy in bed while hugging a plushie of a manically-cute red kitty, the antlers on its’ head resembling alastor’s. “alastor, what took so long?” you pouted as he began to retire in his nightwear, first taking off his bowtie.

“forgive me, my doe. there were many things to cover tonight on my radio broadcast…” he smiled, pinching your plump cheeks; so yummy and jiggly under his touch. “could i make it up to you tonight?” he smiled widely.

“ugh, then hurry up, please?!” you hit the sheets in frustration. “ahaha… just be patient, my darling.” he patted your head, getting into bed with you. turning off the lights before he wrapped his lanky arms around your waist, burying his face in your hair and leaving a trail of light kisses over your head.

the next time you’d see alastor’s broadcast station, a peculiar skeleton is pinned, adding a grotesque look to the hotel

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ LOVE EXPERT — NEUVILLETTE.

contents. established relationships, it’s literally just teaching neuvillette how to cuddle bc he doesn’t understand humans sobs :(, also idk how to write him yet. i apologize i tried my best. i’ll get it soon i swear

“come here,” you tug neuvillette by the arm, shuffling closer, “i want to try something.”

neuvillette, for all his brilliance, doesn’t understand human customs—you can’t help but find it hopelessly endearing.

he doesn’t understand the concept of bringing you flowers. you’ve never minded, never mentioned it until one day, lady furina teases that he’s never brought you so much as a single rose. he questions you that day, innocent and curious and just a bit confused, if it’s normal to gift flowers, if they mean anything special. so you chuckle, kissing between his brows as you explain to him. he brings you them regularly from then on.

one time, he notices a couple holding hands, eyeing their intertwined fingers and swinging arms—you watch in amusement as he studies them for a while, watch him simmer in his thoughts before you chuckle and grab his own hand, squeezing gently. he makes sure not to let go for the rest of the day, making a point to tangle your fingers and guide you through the city. you realize after that day that he’s probably never felt someone’s body so close to his—and you decide you’ll have to change that.

“what…what are you doing?” he asks, looking at you confused. for a second you think he might be uncomfortable, and then you realize he really doesn’t know.

he’s certainly the most unique man you’ve ever dated.

“i’m cuddling you, of course,” you grin, resting your head against his sturdy chest as your arm loops around his neck. he sits stiffly on the couch, as if it’s his chair in the court, as if he’s not here to relax.

“and that is…?” he raises an eyebrow.

you giggle, shaking your head as you lean up and kiss his cheek affectionately. he’s adorable—quite uninformed about romantic affairs, but adorable all the same. and he tries his best, just for you.

“we hold each other, like this—” you explain, taking his arm and wrapping it around yourself. you shuffle closer, pressed tightly against his body as your hand finds his chest, “—and it’s romantic.”

“i see,” he nods, “i think…i think i understand.”

you’re pretty sure he does not understand—you chuckle to yourself as his forehead is still covered with those crinkles from his furrowed brows, the gears in his head working to try and figure out what makes you crave this. and then you start to rub circles into his chest, and the tension melts instantly from his shoulders…and then he thinks he does understand.

“isn’t it nice?” you murmur, cheek pressed against where his heart is as his hand lays on your hip—it’s warm, he thinks. you’re warm, and you’re close, and he can feel your heart beating from being so near. “we get to just feel each other, you know? and not worry about anything else.”

“but…your worries won’t disappear simply by holding—”

“oh, neuvillette,” you huff, “you always take things so literally. just relax, would you?”

“i’m sorry,” he says genuinely, as if he’s offended you by not understanding your cuddles. you look up at him fondly, cupping his cheek as you stroke a thumb over the soft skin.

“you don’t have to apologize, silly,” you peck his lips, trying to hold back the laugh that bubbles through your throat. and, if you’re not mistaken, you think there might just be a faint pout tugging at his corners of his mouth.

“now you’re laughing at me,” he frowns.

“i’m not,” you insist, smiling teasingly, “i just find you adorable, is all.” and then, as your head finds its way back to rest on him, you add, “it’s just nice to have someone close. to know they’re right here with you. does that make sense?”

“yes,” he smiles softly, “i suppose it does.” and then his hand starts to mimic yours, rubbing those slow, careful circles into your hip just like you do against his chest. “i enjoy having you close. your presence is comforting.”

“you’re catching on,” you tease, grinning brightly, “pretty soon you’ll be an expert at love.”

“i’m not so sure i’m quite there yet,” he chuckles, but his cheeks are dusted a light shade of pink.

you think you fall deeper in love right there—there are so many feelings neuvillette doesnt understand, but you’ll help him. slowly but surely, you’ll teach him by loving him in between every emotion so that it’s easier.

“i think you’re doing great,” you say softly, “i love you, y’know.”

he knows he understands this much for certain when he replies, “i as well, love you. very much.”

guys he’s literally just a weepy dragon are u kidding me we have to coddle him i accept nothing else

[seokgyuu]

You might have a thing for Seokmin’s hands. Seokmin, your best friend. Who you definitely do not see as anything else! Really. Not at all! And he obviously doesn’t see you as anything else either. Like, for real! … Right?

Pairing: Seokmin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Best friends to lovers, Smut (MDNI!).

Requested: yes, thanks sweet anon!!

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Going through my requests right now and this one stuck out because I too love Seokmin’s hands. I mean… look at them!! Thanks for the request lovely anon and sorry that it took literal months for me to finish this (yikes).

tagging: @wongyuseokie, @the-boy-meets-evil, @multi-kpop-fanfics, @onlyseokmins, @dkakapizzaboy, @honeykyeom, @drunk-on-dk, @cheolism, @wooahaeproductions <3 just because i want to, hihi.

Smut Warnings under the cut!

Smut Warnings: masturbation (f), finger sucking, fingering, dirty talk

In your many years on this planet most of these have been spent being best friends with Lee Seokmin. 

At this point you probably knew him better than he knew himself and vice versa. There was nothing the two of you didn’t share, sometimes being mistaken for a couple when in reality all you feel for each other is nothing but platonic admiration. You love each other, but platonically! You sleep in each other's arms most nights, but platonically! Sometimes you wish he would hold you a little tighter and sometimes he wishes he could touch you in places he shouldn’t, but it is all, of course, platonically!

In fact, your relationship is so platonic that you are currently holding your beloved vibrator to your throbbing clit staring at a picture of his hands. His beautiful hands, his long fingers graced by rings you had gifted him because, fuck, did you love seeing him with jewellery you had given him. Especially rings. 

The high you’re craving as much as you feel guilty is nearing and you arch your back, hips chasing the feeling of the vibrations on your bundle of nerves - and when the thought of Seokmin above you with his fingers fucking you open, rings on and all, occupies your mind once more, not leaving any space for a guilty conscience, you finally come undone. You sigh his name over and over, riding out your orgasm and once your vibrator is off and your panties are back in place, you slowly start to realize what you’ve just done. Again. How many times have you told yourself you wouldn’t do this again? How many times have you sworn that Seokmin was your best friend and nothing else? 

Best friends don’t think about the other when they get off. Best friends don’t crave the other’s touch when they aren’t around. Best friends don’t want to get finger-fucked by the other! 

Maybe, you think, you aren’t Seokmin’s best friend after all because all of these points apply to you. With a groan you lock your phone and swing your legs off the bed, still feeling a bit dizzy from your orgasm. Just when you are about to head to the bathroom, you hear knocks on your front door. 

Frowning, you look at the clock hanging on the wall across from you. It’s one o’clock in the morning, who would ever- another knock. More vehemently this time. You blink a few times, not even registering that you’re wearing nothing but one of Seokmin’s shirts and your panties when you open the door. 

Glossy brown eyes look at you, reddened cheeks and lips on the face you think about more than you should. 

“Seokmin?!” 

“You’re- you’re wearing my shirt.”

He is inside your apartment with the door closed behind you in mere seconds. His hands somehow landed on your waist and you are now stuck between him and the cold wall, your eyes big and round looking up at him.

“What are you doing here, what- what’s going on?”

“I kissed someone,” he breathes and you hate that the words make your heart drop, “I kissed this girl when I was at a club with Mingyu and- fuck, I kissed her and I somehow realized that I don’t want to kiss her.”

“Okay, that’s okay, Seok. You stopped kissing her then, right?”

When he shakes his head, you feel another pang of pain inside your chest.

“I kissed her some more, she asked me to go home with her and I was already on my way out, ready to get into the cab and let her take me to her place, but…”

The way he looks at you, the way his fingers dig into your skin. He doesn’t say it, and you don’t want to ask. 

“You’re drunk.” You somehow stumble out, freeing yourself from his grasp and instead walking over to the kitchen, to get your best friend some water.

“I didn’t even drink that much.” You hear the pout before you see it, turning around to face him, your eyes settling on his body leaning against the doorframe. 

“You should still drink some water, Seok, alright?”

He doesn’t try to stop you when you hand him the glass and he even takes two big sips before putting it down.

“Why didn’t you call before you came here?” You ask then, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“Phone’s dead.” He explains and you sigh, pulling a hand over your face.

“So, you didn’t tell Soonyoung you’re not coming home tonight?”

“I-,” Seokmin starts but then realizes he, in fact, hadn't told his roommate he was going to be gone for the night. 

“Lee Seokmin,” you shake your head at him, “get my phone from my room and text him, I bet he’s dying of worry right now. You know how he is.”

As much as Seokmin wishes it wasn’t true - it is. Soonyoung his (other) best friend and roommate is overbearing as much as he is kind. Pouting once more, he turns around to walk into your bedroom, seeing your phone laying on top of your bed. For a split second he feels guilty - had he woken you up? Gnawing on his bottom lip, he rids himself of his coat and hangs it over your desk chair, also taking off his shoes in the process and putting them next to yours by the closet, before finally grabbing your phone and unlocking it with the code he just so happens to know. 

He stops in his steps. Stares at the screen. Then, he blinks a few times and feels his body react right away. Electricity shoots through him and explanations as of why he is seeing what he’s seeing, explanations that have his stomach flip and his heart triple in speed, that have his imagination go wilder than he’d usually allow himself around you.

“Y/N.”

“Did you not find it?” You call back from the kitchen, getting out a pot to make some late night ramen, only to turn around and look at him and feel your face fall. He is holding your phone up for you to see the screen, his zoomed in hands still on your display. Fuck. 

Coming up with an explanation as of why the fuck his hands are on your screen at almost 2 o’clock in the morning leaves your brain blank. There is only so much you can say that isn’t totally weird - and even then, it still is. 

But something about the way Seokmin is looking at you isn’t even allowing you to open your mouth and stutter out a lame excuse. 

“I want you to be honest with me,” he begins calmly, slowly walking over to you now, “why are my hands zoomed in on your phone screen in the middle of the night, darling?”

The pet name bolts through you and leaves your brain even more blank. Suddenly, you don’t know how to speak, how to think. Yet, Seokmin seems to know that he caught you in something he didn’t even know it was possible to find you in. 

“Y/N, be honest,” he repeats when he is back in front of you, when you’re caged in between him and the kitchen counter, when all that’s between you is the little space he has left, “do you have a thing for my hands?”

Shit. He’s so close now, your phone discarded on the counter next to you and you still don’t remember how to speak. It’s stupid, you know it is, he’s probably just teasing you, just trying to get a reaction out of you before he laughs it off. 

Just that he doesn’t. 

Seokmin doesn’t move, instead he comes closer, one of his insanely pretty hands softly grabbing your chin, turning your head to make you look straight up at him. God, his eyes are sparkling. Everything about him seems to be sparkling. 

“Answer me, love.”

You wish you could, really. But your mouth is dry and your body is burning and all you can focus on is the hand on your face. So, instead of verbally answering you, very slowly, nod. The smug smile that spreads on Seokmin’s face is something no one could have prepared you for. 

“Interesting. Let’s see.” He moves his hand up just slightly, thumb brushing against your lips and you can’t help but drop open your mouth, sucking it right into your wet heat. The moan that escapes him catches both of you by surprise and has you pressing your thighs together. Seokmin doesn’t speak, he just looks at you, letting you suck in his thumb with wide eyes that have his cock twitching wildly in his pants. 

He begins thrusting his thumb into your mouth, saliva building up and beginning to trickle down out of the corners of your lips, his eyes glued on your face. When you begin to swirl your tongue around him, he breathes out a strained sigh, quickly replacing his thumb with is middle and index finger. 

Now it’s you who’s moaning. How many nights had you stayed awake with your fingers inside your cunt, with your vibrator against your clit, with you humping your pillow, imagining exactly this. Sucking on his finger’s as he fucked you senseless with either his other hand or his cock. 

“Fuck, baby, you really do have a thing for my hands,” he mutters, perhaps even more to himself than you and he instructs you to suck on them, his free hand sneaking around you, pressing you against him flat on your ass. 

Nothing has ever been as much of a turn on as this. Seokmin’s fingers in your mouth, his other hand squeezing your ass as he is very obviously rubbing himself against you, his erection visible through his pants and hard to miss against your lower stomach. He doesn’t speak for a while, just enjoying the feeling of having all the power over you, something he had never thought possible, bathing in the knowledge you want him just as much as he wants you. 

When he deems it enough, he pulls his fingers out, thick saliva connecting them to your red lips and he groans at the sight, quickly bringing the fingers down and straight to where you need them the most. He doesn’t wait, doesn’t tease, instead he slips his hand into your folds and feels them, coating the two fingers he just pulled out of your mouth in your juices, reveling in your small noises. 

“Want them inside of you, don’t you, baby girl? Want me to fuck you with them?” 

It’s merely a whisper coming out of his mouth and you whimper, nodding your head yes once more, Seokmin chuckling as he leans forward, his breath hitting your face.

“Need you to use your words, okay?” He says, lips touching your cheek and you swallow hard, hips bucking to meet his fingers.

“I-,” you stutter, “I, f-fuck, Seokmin, please-,”

“Please what, darling?”

“Pl-please p-put them i-inside,” you cry out, your hands gripping the material of his shirt, eyes begging him to do as you asked. 

“God, you’re so desperate, might just make me cum in my pants. Gonna fuck your pretty pussy with my hands while you’re wearing my shirt, fuck,” his voice is breathy against your ear and you’re just about to beg him again, when he finally does what you’ve been dreaming about for years. 

The second he breaches your hole, you already feel like the gates of heaven just opened up for you. His fingers are like the drug you knew you’d get addicted to once you’ve got a taste of them and the second they are fully inside you, you fear nothing will ever come close again. Your body reacts by shaking uncontrollably, your pussy sucking him in as far as possible, Seokmin’s moans in your ear the sweetest sounds you’ve ever heard. As his fingers begin to thrust inside of you, his lips begin to kiss your neck, up to your cheek and finally your lips, both of you sighing in relief when you finally take one step further. Because somehow this is more intimate than his fingers fucking you. 

This could have easily been mistaken as a tipsy Seokmin helping his best friend blowing off steam by finally giving into her desire for him, but the second he kisses you both of you know this is going to be so much more. 

Your arms move to wrap around his neck as you spread your legs further for him, giving him better access and more room to move his hand as he continues his thrusts, your whimpers against his lips skilfully getting caught by his tongue.

“So fucking wet and tight, such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He mumbles against your mouth and you nod, pulling him closer, lips back on his to begin yet another heated kiss. The two of you make out, one of your legs around his waist as he picks up his speed, thumb finding your clit no problem, causing you to arch your back and pant into the kiss.

“Seok- so- so close!” You cry out and he chuckles again, kissing down your neck, sucking harshly on your skin as he pulls his fingers out only to come back with one more. 

Three fingers fuck you open for more, your moans getting louder, fingers digging into his nape as you chase his fingers with your hips, tears behind your eyes threatening to spill because of how fucking turned on you were. You’re dripping down his fingers, down your thighs, your panties shoved to the side by him, probably cutting into his fingers, but he doesn’t seem to care. 

“Yeah? Are you gonna cum for me, baby? Cum on my fingers? How long have you wanted this, hm? How long have you dreamt of my fingers fucking you until you make them drip in your cum?”

His dirty words are so out of character for your usually so bright and sweet best friend, but they do their job perfectly. Accompanying your whines is your pussy clenching around him repeatedly, throbbing against his fingers and Seokmin really thinks he could shoot his load just from this. 

“Faster, pl-please!” Your hips are moving at rapid speed and Seokmin meets your efforts, thumb pressing down on your clit and letting his fingers quickly pump in and out of your perfect pussy, already feeling your nearing climax around him. 

When he kisses you again, his tongue finding yours, circling it skilfully and sucking it into his mouth, you feel your orgasm rush over you, cum soaking his whole hand as he fucks you through it, your moans landing right in his hot mouth. 

“That’s it, darling, cum on my fingers, soak them in your cum, show me how good I made you feel, fuck.” 

Tears are rolling down your cheeks, tears of pleasure and happiness, tears of desperation as you ride out your orgasm, almost crying more when he pulls his fingers out of you to lick them clean like a starved man. Your head spins at the visual and you let yourself fall against the counter, sure you could probably count the stars floating around your head currently.

“Delicious, so pretty and delicious.” Seokmin hums when his fingers are out of his mouth and he smiles at you like the soft puppy you know he is. 

“Seokmin…,” you don’t even know what to say, still in awe and still recovering from the best orgasm you’ve ever had. He shushes you, both of his hands on your waist, pulling you into his chest.

“Later, love. Now, I need you to ride my cock, how does that sound?”

Smiling at him you think that nothing had ever sounded sweeter.

[darqx]

If you didnt come to party [get the hell out of this club]

In which there's some links to old art - I've been getting a number of asks that are already technically answered so that's just what I'm gonna be doing if i can even remember what RAD they originally came from lol.

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

UNFORGIVEN.

Yes he can speak at least two demon languages (commons and a more specialised one).

Not really cos the ichor will eventually disappear if it's not in contact with Rire for a while lol. You ever wonder how someone could mysteriously drown whilst not being around anything they could have drowned in? Yeah.

I have drawn several such instances a long time ago. But it's not really Rire flirting with Ren it's more him being like...subtly condescending to Ren since Ren's submissive level is not very interesting to him |D

I...think you may have possibly mistaken me saying Rire might cry if he was in severe pain to mean that's the only time he could cry XD; To answer your q, yes Rire can cry from emotions - the point is he would choose not to (esp in public) as that would be a weakness.

🤔 You could probably get away with the same dress design but in black, tbh (if it was Lady Rire). Since the outfit design is 1930s/1940s based Rire's equivalent would be like...a 3 piece suit with a long overcoat/trench coat.

Got you covered bro [from a suit meme I did before]

Rire has a very long life span, but he's not immortal XD;

Tbh I don't really have thoughts about any of other peoples headcanons. Like I'm generally quite neutral towards headcanons because I primarily deal with the canon; the extent of my thoughts would be like "hm i wonder how they came up with that" lol.

This is actually in my FAQ :d but good of you to check for permission! If it's your own artwork then yes it is ok to make fanmerch of Rire. Similarly Gato allows fanmerch of her BTD and TPOF characs as long as it's your own art you are selling (and not like, our art/someone else's fanart that they didn't give permission to turn into merch).

It would be in Cain's best interest not to.

Cain is literally saying Olé Olé because i happened to be listening to this song at the time.

I can barely keep up with my ask box as myself let alone do it while pretending to be a charac lol, so no 😅 You can find a bunch of the most common qs in the FAQ pages though.

No and not really - though he is a bit more sensitive to light compared to a human as he has much better night vision than a human. He may also be able to see more colours than humans 🤔

There is technically no "stereotypical" demon in my 'verse, there's a bunch of different species each with their own looks/powers, so if he was another species then he'd have their physical characteristics. Rire's species is considered "plain" because outwardly they can pass more easily as a human than say; Izm's species (who have a really noticeable Glasgow smile-esque mouth as one of their physical features).

Yes he was born a demon...to his demon parents...|D;

He's the king of his sector and his sector is pretty well-to-do, I think you can draw your own conclusions from that lol.

Maybe, depends on what the human in question does with that.

Your second q has two answers depending on what context I answer them in, so I'll reply in the BTD context keeping in mind a charac like EP's Cain :d Basically yes Rire would be able to sense them like he does other demons. It's not a specific sense of "THIS CHARAC IS AN ANGEL" but more like "this charac is not human" and depending on what else he gets from it a "in your best interests to not engage".

Something big with long black fur and yellow eyes, maybe like a Norwegian Forest Cat or a Maine Coon.

[panic-at-the-fiction]

A problem to work with

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a problem to work with. He’s annoying, snarky, hot headed and you don’t get along. And this has absolutely nothing to do with your thoughts about how big his arms are, or how hot he is when he’s mad. No this is only about how difficultly annoying he is.

Warning: Tension, banter, eventual smut.

A/N: don’t we all still enjoy pretending it’s 2012 and all the avengers are happily alive and working and living together in the tower. Like I miss that! Let’s put Clint back in the vent and go back to the good old days.

There was a lot of things you loved about your job, ok well maybe there was a few things, but certainly, Bucky Barnes was not one of them.

“Wow, that’s a good look on your doll.” He smiled as you walked down the stairs of the hotel into the Lobby where he stood waiting for you.

“Well I have got to say Barnes, you clean up surprisingly well for a man of your age.”

He scoffed, “It’s called having some class, they don’t teach it anymore.”

Now one might assume with banter so playful the two of you might have something going on, but you don’t. This was just a mission, you were just playing the part, not to be mistaken for anything real between the two of you.

In fact, just a week ago the two of you couldn’t stand each other, it was Tony’s idea to set you two up in such a long close quarters mission.

“You have to be kidding me Tony, you know how annoying Barnes is. We’ll tear each other's heads off before we even make it to the gala.”

Steve shook his head. “Yeah even I have to protest this Tony, I mean (y/n) and Buck in the field, no backup? Couldn’t we partner them with someone else?”

“We can’t rearrange all of our mission plans so that these two don’t have to interact with each other. You both are grown ass adults, suck it up and play nice.” He said with finality before leaving the room. Steve sighed and joined him out in the hallway.

You crossed your arms and looked over at Bucky as he reclined in his seat. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Thought I was annoying.”

“You are that's why I thought you would have something to say on the subject.”

He shook his head and clenched his jaw, and you felt your heart drop, damn him. “Tony’s right, we’re adults. You just gotta stop acting like a brat so we can work together.”

“Oh please, if this is anyone's problem to solve it’s yours. You’re the one who’s going to actually have to trust me on this mission if we’re to get anything done.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yeah, I’ll trust you, you play nice, I'll do the same. One week, let’s play professionals.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

And you both had played nice ever since. He greeted you with a smile when he picked you up the next morning, carried your bag into the hotel, he even started the mission by letting you run point. Of course, it felt like a trick at first but once you realized he was being serious you returned the favor, bought coffee for the two of you as you staked out the location of the gala, let him do all the talking with the host you gathered information from, and made the two of your dinner the night before the big event. That night felt the most real, things shifted.

You set down a plate of food and a cheap bear in front of Bucky as he poured over the blueprints on the table in your shared hotel room. “So the two guards will be posted by each door in uniform, but two guards in disguise as waiters will be standing by these two entrances.”

“Barnes, I know, we’ve gone over the plan three times tonight, we know the layout backwards and forwards. You can take a break.”

He sighed heavily as he rubbed at the tightness in his shoulders. You stared, watching his arms flex with the movement, the expression on his face altering the chemicals of your brain.

“Thanks (y/n),” he said, taking the plate you had set in front of him.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts, reminding yourself what was important here. “Anytime Barnes.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Call me Barnes, what are you, my sergeant?” He laughed playfully. You hadn’t ever heard him laugh like that, his usual attitude toward you didn’t allow for that type of light heartiness.

“Oh, because you just love when I bark orders at you.” You laughed while taking a sip of your drink.

“Who says I don't?” He gave you that 1940s smile you just know won so many girls over back in the day.

You tried not to choke as you looked away from him, hiding the heat that crawled up your neck. “Well, I guess I just figured Bucky was reserved for your friends, like Steve and Sam.”

“Are we not friends?”

You studied him, you couldn’t tell if he was being serious. “Are we?”

He leaned back in his chair, “do you want to be?”

“Do you?”

The room filled with silence as you both settled without an answer. Neither of you had an answer.

No, you would rather not be his friend, you didn’t think you could handle any more nice things coming from him. His smile made your stomach flip, and his proximity made your hair stand up, it was killing you the amount of alone time you were getting with him. But even worse the idea of it all being gone in 24 hrs and things going back to how they were made your chest hurt.

“I think I’m going to go to bed now, big day tomorrow.” You said excusing yourself from the table.

“Yeah” He sighed, taking a sip of his drink.

You paused at the door to your room before turning back for just a second. “Goodnight Bucky, get some sleep.” You smiled softly as you left him.

You didn’t run into Bucky much the next morning. He left a note saying he needed to double-check some things before getting ready for the gala tonight, but he promised to meet you in the lobby on time.

That leads you to now, standing in front of the mirror looking at the damn dress. Your heart pounded in your chest, you had forgotten about the dress. Originally intended for one of Tony’s galas that was canceled, you had never had a chance to wear this one. You had been excited to bring it along for the gala, but now it taunted you. It taunted you with its silkiness, its low cut, its backlessness.

All you could think was, would Bucky like it? It made you sick with nerves. This was not relevant. There was a high-profile target at tonight's gala, there were a weeks worth of snooping, and stake outs, and gathering information, months of research and tracking at stake here, but you were thinking of his hands on your back in that stupid dress if you were lucky enough to find an excuse to dance tonight.

You shut the thoughts out of your head and did your best to cool yourself down with some water to get your mind out of the gutter. This was just the two of you playing nice, being professional, this man despised you outside the walls of this hotel, outside of this mission.

You mentally slapped yourself as you got in the elevator heading down to the lobby, preparing yourself as you walked down the hotel's grand staircase.

You met Bucky's gaze from where he stood waiting for you at the bottom of the staircase. Damn he looked good. You could feel his eyes on you, every warning thought about the consequences of getting carried away leaving your brain. Was it getting hotter in here?

“Wow, that’s a good look on you doll.” He smiled playfully.

DAMN.

You laughed, shaking your head, “Well I have got to say Barnes, you clean up surprisingly well for a man of your age.”

He scoffed, “It’s called having some class, they don’t teach it anymore.” He offered you his arm as he walked you out to the car. “And besides what did I say about calling me Barnes. We’re not here for you to bark orders at me anymore, we’re here to play civil.”

You smirked as he opened your door for you. “Is that what you said? All I heard was that you like it when I boss you around.” You could hear him choke a little bit as he shut the passenger door before getting in on the drivers side.

“Now remember, we’re Mr. & Mrs. Laker, the rich real estate investors who just moved here from LA. We’ve been married 8 years now.” He said switching focus on getting to the gala.

“Kids?” You asked teasingly.

He smiled, “No, we're just waiting until things settle down with our work.”

“Aw I was hoping for a James jr.” He just shook his head. Your gaze shifted to his grip on the steering wheel where you almost lost yourself in THE thoughts again.

Damn get it together.

“Now you remember the layouts right.”

“Yes, I reviewed them this morning.”

“Good.”

He stopped as he pulled up in front of the venue you had scoped out just a few days prior. He put the car in park before walking around to your side opening the door for you and extending his hand for you to take. “Mrs. Laker.”

“Thank you, Mr. Laker.” You instinctively played your part and locked your arm in his.

“Here,” He tossed the car keys to the valley. “Not a scratch on it.” He added before leading you inside

As you entered the gorgeous high-class event waiters swarmed around you offering different champagnes, wines and finger foods, the room alive with rich people's conversations and music.

You smiled with your best rich lady smile as you let Bucky lead you around the party, choosing a table where you had a clear view of the event you set down grabbing a drink as you did so. You could feel your death grip on the glass as you forced yourself to keep your eyes on the dance floor where a few couples swayed and not on the very handsome man beside you.

Bucky placed his hand gently on your thigh as he took the glass out of your hand. He leaned in his face close to your ear in a way that made your brain short circuit. “We’ll have a better chance of bumping into Lestrade if we don’t stay in one place.”

You swallowed hard, “What do you suggest?”

He pulled away so he could look in your eyes, and you have to stop yourself from staring at his lips. “How about a dance,” He paused, offering you his hand and making sure the surrounding others could hear him. “Sweetheart.”

“Of course dear.” You smiled, kicking yourself for forgetting it all for the image of playing a married couple.

As you reached the dance floor his arm slipped around your waist, his hand on the small of your back causing you to stiffen. His metal hand gently held your right hand while your left hand rested on his bicep.

His steps were smooth with years of practice, his subtle pushes and pressure on your back letting you know where to step next.

“Now where did the soldier learn to dance?” You smiled as he shook his head.

“Like I said doll.” He licked his lips looking down at you with an ease in his eyes, you hadn’t seen before. “It's called class, they don’t teach it anymore.” He leaned in, pulling you to his chest so that he could whisper in your ear. “Trust me you won’t find anyone else who can do it like I do.” You could feel his smirk, “dancing that is.”

“Yeah, is that so Barnes? Show me your moves then.”

He didn't hesitate to spin you out and turn you around so that you swayed with your back to his chest. The heat pulling in your stomach where he now rests his metal hand over top of yours. You felt his lips on your ear. “Oh I’ve got plenty of moves.” You held in a sigh as you let yourself get swept up in the closeness.

“Lestrade, 10 o'clock, mingling at the drink table.” Your brain turned back on as your focused turned back to the mission, the song you had been dancing to fading out as it ended.

You pulled away from him, trailing off the dance floor. “You know sweetie, I think that dancing made me fairly thirsty. I need another drink.”

“Anything you want sweetheart.” He called as he followed suit.

It was going to be a long evening.

Part 2

[harunayuuka2060]

WHB Series #1 (Cont.)

MC: *wearing a face mask* Let's get down to business so I can leave this place early.

Belphegor: ...

Belphegor: *smiles* You're straightforward.

MC: Nah, I doubt you'd be interested in making a conversation at all.

Belphegor: *still smiling* Beleth, you take it from here.

Beleth: Okay, Your Majesty.

Beleth: *clears his throat* *unfurls a map of Niflheim in front of them*

Beleth: You see the red marks, descendant of Solomon?

MC: Yes.

Beleth: Angels are swarming these places.

MC: Ah, so you want me to do some pest control?

Beleth and Belphegor: ...

Belphegor: *chuckles*

MC: *sigh* You devils won't give me a break. *grabs the map and heads straight to the door*

Beleth: Wait! Wouldn't you need an escort?

MC: ...

MC: *looks at the other devils present: Gusion, Bathin, and Harumon*

MC: ...

MC: I'll take the coward cat.

Harumon: Hey! I'm no coward!

MC: ...

MC: Is that a young devil?

Harumon: Young devil? Where?

MC: He's hiding behind that rubble.

Harumon: But descendant of Solomon! No one's living in this place now!

MC: *yells* Oi, kid! What are you doing there?

MC: ...

Harumon: ...

MC: *clicks their tongue* He's shy. *approaches the 'young devil'*

MC: Hey, why are you hiding?

Harumon: ...

Harumon: Who are they talking to?

MC: Huh. What's his name?

MC: Oi, Harumon. Do you know someone called 'Andrealphus'?

Harumon: Yes! He's one of us!

MC: *points* This boy's saying he's his twin.

Harumon: !!!

MC: So you're telling me that I possibly met a ghost.

Beleth: Yes, it could be. You're the only one who can see him.

Bathin: Can you draw what he looks like? We need to confirm if it's the twin of Andrealphus.

MC: What a bother. Someone give me a notepad.

*after a few minutes*

MC: Does that confirm it?

Beleth: Yep, no doubt.

MC: ...

MC: Great. So I can see ghosts now.

MC: ?

Beleth: What is it, descendant of Solomon?

MC: *unamused* He's sitting on my lap.

Gabriel: How could you insult god like this?!

Raphael: It's the truth, Gabriel. God has returned.

Michael: ...

Michael: How were you able to tell?

Raphael: I tasted their blood. There's no way I'm mistaken.

Michael: ...

Gabriel: *fuming in anger*

Michael: In that case, why didn't you bring them?

Raphael: They are worried that none of you would believe them.

Raphael: *his face turned serious*

Raphael: Now seeing your reactions, proves that they're right.

Gabriel: Should I just kill you right now, Raphael?

Michael: ...

Michael: Calm down, Gabriel.

Michael: This could be our lead. Regardless, Solomon definitely did something.

Gabriel and Raphael: ...

Michael: Aside from the information you've got, do you have anything else, Raphael?

Raphael: ...

Raphael: *smiles* God has considered me their most beloved seraph.

Gabriel: *fumes in anger*

[wholoveseggs]

Commander

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Reader} As the leader of the gold cloaks, Daemon holds all the power when it comes to dealing out punishments for thieves and criminals. But what if he finds one he is particularly fond of? Well he has a special way of handling them...

3.9k words - Warnings: smutt, size!kink, oral {m!receiving}, fingering, degradation, semi public sex, soft dom!daemon, sub!reader, overstimulation, little bit of spanking & threats of violence...

{Daemon Targaryen Tag-List}

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer

@cheneyq @fallout-girl219 @nina6708 @evasmlp @sadmonke @deamonloverrrr

It was almost like you were invisible. No one noticed you, and even when you spoke up and called attention to yourself, no one paid you any mind. Your small form blended in so well amongst the shadows that you were never a threat to anyone. Even if they caught a glimpse of you, most people would write you off as harmless, and continue on their way without a second thought.

This worked to your advantage, a gift that served you well. When your hand slipped into a pocket or purse and came back with something shiny, no one could point fingers and say it was you. Because how could it be when they didn't even see you?

It wasn't a life you were proud of, but it was all you had. And you were good at it, or else you'd have starved years ago.

Tonight was no different than any other night, as you slipped from shadow to shadow, weaving through the streets like a ghost. The darkness was your ally, the only true friend you had.

You were on the lookout, waiting for an opportunity to present itself. A woman walked by with a small satchel tied to her waist. Your eyes lit up and you started to trail after her, staying a safe distance back to remain unnoticed.

You followed the woman, making sure to keep her in your sight, but keeping your presence unknown. She stopped, talking with a group of people. Now was your chance, when she was distracted and not paying attention.

The moment you reached out and touched the satchel, you realized you had made a mistake. The woman turned and grabbed your wrist, "Oi!" she yelled, "Thief!"

Panic rose within you. This was not the first time someone had noticed your presence and raised the alarm, but each time it sent a chill of fear down your spine. You struggled against the woman, kicking her hard in the shin and yanking your wrist free from her grasp.

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you ran, knowing full well the woman had alerted others and would be sending guards after you.

It was hard to see, the moonlight not bright enough to light your path. There was a sound of a commotion and then you saw the shadow of a man.

He stepped out in front of you, and you couldn't stop fast enough. You ran right into him and he took a hold of your shoulders, pushing you back to look at you.

Your eyes widened as you took in his uniform, he was a gold cloak. His face was twisted in anger and his hands gripped your arms tighter, "where are you running off to, little thief?" he sneered.

"I was just passing by, you must be mistaken' me for someone else." you said quickly, but the man ignored you.

He started walking, practically dragging you with him. "Hey! Let me go! Where are you taking me? Stop!" you yelled, but your protests went unanswered. He had you.

A small crowd had formed, watching as the gold cloak hauled you off, his strong grip not allowing you to break free.

"What did I do?" you yelled, tears springing to your eyes.

"You know what you did." he responded gruffly. You were scared, your eyes watering with tears, you had always gotten away, you had always been so careful. Until tonight. Now your luck has run out. You would probably lose a hand, or be thrown in a cell and left to rot.

You were taken to a building where the guard pushed you inside and told you to wait. It was an old tavern, the chairs had been stacked on the tables and there was nobody around. You looked around frantically for an escape route, but the windows were all boarded up and the doors locked.

Your heart was beating so fast you thought it might give out. You paced the floor nervously, wringing your hands.

A few moments later, you heard the sound of the front door unlocking, and another man walked in. You immediately realized who he was, with his blonde hair and sharp jawline, and the golden cloak that hung over his shoulders. It was Prince Daemon, the lord commander.

Your eyes went wide and you dropped to your knees, bowing your head low, "my lord, forgive me, I- I didn't mean to-"

He let out a low chuckle, "What a polite little thief."

His voice was like honey, smooth and sweet. You stayed silent, and the prince walked toward you slowly, his boots clicking against the stone floor. You had never seen him up close before, but his presence filled the room. You could feel the strength and power radiating from him.

"Rise," he commanded. You did as you were told, scrambling to your feet.

Daemon took a step closer to you, looking you up and down, his eyes raking over your small frame. He grabbed a lock of your hair, twirling it around his fingers examining you like a piece of meat.

"Tell me your name."

"Y/N." you answered quickly, your voice quivering.

He hummed thoughtfully, "That's a pretty name. Do you know the punishment for thievery in King's Landing?"

"I-" you stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence, "I-I didn't-"

"Oh, I think you did."

"But-"

"Are you trying to say it wasn't you?"

You bit your lip, unsure how to answer. Lying to him was a far worse offense than petty thievery, but he seemed to already know the truth.

"Speak." Daemon snapped, his eyes flashing.

"It was me." you admitted, your cheeks flushing pink.

"Hmm, very good. See, it's not so hard to tell the truth." he said with a smug smile.

You looked up at him, and his violet eyes were locked on yours. There was something predatory in the way he was looking at you. He stepped closer, closing the distance between you.

He was much taller than you, easily a foot taller. He took your hand in his own, holding it up, examining it, turning it over and running his thumb across your palm.

"Such a tiny thing," he said quietly, almost to himself, "is that how you sneak around the city?"

You nodded.

"And do you know what I do to little thieves like you?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low whisper.

You shook your head, and a small smile played on his lips. Daemon brought your hand up to his mouth, kissing the inside of your wrist gently. Your heart was racing, and you felt a wave of heat rush through your body.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, "You have two options," he whispered, his breath warm, and sweet against your cheek, "you can lose this hand, or," he nipped at your earlobe, "I could fuck the thieving right out of you."

He smiled at your reaction, the look of panic in your eyes, your cheeks felt hot and your pulse quickened under his touch. You inhaled sharply, your breath growing shallow as he took a step forward, backing you up until you were pressed against the bar.

"Choose," he said, his voice low and commanding.

Your gaze went from his eyes to his lips and back up to his eyes again. You certainly didn't want to lose your hand, and he wasn't exactly horrible to look at.

"I- I'd rather not lose my hand."

Daemon smirked, a low growl rumbling in his chest. His hand found your throat, squeezing slightly, "Such a smart little thief." he muttered, before crashing his lips into yours.

His hands moved down your sides, and rested on your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. You gasped against his mouth and his tongue slipped in, tasting you. He let go of you and pulled the cloak from his shoulders, tossing it aside.

The gauntlets and armor next to follow, he held up his hand and you rushed to unlace and remove them, yanking the clasps apart until they were loosened enough for him to pull free. He did so hastily, knocking them to the ground with the rest.

"Good girl," he hummed, his hands going to your shirt, "Let's see what you're hiding beneath those rags, hmm?"

Before you had a chance to argue, he had lifted your shirt up and over your head, his fingers deftly tugging and pulling on your skirts and undergarments till you were left standing before him in nothing but your socks.

He chuckled, his eyes taking in every inch of your exposed skin. His large hand wrapped around the back of your neck, and he brought his mouth crashing to yours once more.

Your fingers curled into his hair, pulling him closer to you. You felt his other hand trail down your stomach, and he grabbed the bottom of your hip in a firm grip. His body pressed against yours, pushing you hard against the bar until the wooden edge pressed uncomfortably against your skin.

"Ah," you whined, trying to push him back a little. But he was stronger than you, keeping you firmly in place. His hands moved to your hips, lifting you up onto the counter. He stepped between your legs, spreading them wide.

"Please," you breathed, "what if someone comes in?"

He smirked, his fingers finding your nipples, rolling them gently between his fingertips, "They won't." he assured you, his lips trailing down your neck.

Your head fell back, giving him better access. You couldn't believe what was happening, here you were, sitting naked on the bar of an abandoned tavern, the Prince's lips sucking and nibbling at your neck while his hands caressed and squeezed your breasts.

You gasped, his teeth grazing over your sensitive flesh. He chuckled against your skin, his hands moving down, sliding down your sides, his nails digging into the soft flesh of your ass. His mouth went to your breasts, sucking on a nipple before biting down hard, drawing a whimper from you. The pressure he applied was painful and you tried to squirm away, but he held you in place.

When he released the hardened bud, he switched to the other one. Sucking and biting on it, teasing you to the point where you were kicking your legs, struggling not to make a sound. He released you with a wet pop, and licked his lips, his violet eyes locking onto yours.

He leaned down, his face close to yours, and kissed you again, his tongue sweeping through your mouth, claiming it as his.

Daemon leaned back and pulled his shirt off, his toned chest and stomach coming into view. You couldn't help but stare, biting your lip as you drank him in. He smirked, noticing the effect he had on you. His hands found your thighs and he yanked you closer, until your ass was hanging off the edge. He looked down at you, admiring the way your chest heaved and your cheeks flushed, your eyes wide with lust and fear.

"Such a pretty little thing," he purred as his hand slid between your thighs.

You sucked in a sharp breath as he eased a finger into your wet cunt, slowly working it deeper. You moaned as he began pumping it in and out firmly, making sure his movements were deliberate and forceful. He added a second finger, and you gasped at the stretch. It was all becoming too much, and you gasped and tried to jerk away, trying to escape his touch.

"Shh," he murmured, his lips ghosting against yours, "you're okay."

Your legs were shaking and your breath hitched, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. You gripped the edge of the bar tightly, trying to keep yourself from falling off. You felt a strange new feeling, a tightening in your lower belly, and a heat that began spreading through your veins.

Daemon watched the way your body reacted to his touch, the way your eyelids fluttered, your chest rising and falling rapidly. He loved the way your little pussy clenched around his finger, the way you twitched and trembled as his hand worked.

"There we go," he cooed, "relax."

His words were soft, but his movements were rough. His finger pumped hard and deep, hitting a sensitive spot inside of you, making your body shake and spasm. You whimpered and moaned, writhing on the bar, arching your back and bucking your hips. Your whole body was tingling, the warmth and tightness spreading throughout you. You didn't know what was happening, what he was doing to you, but you were helpless to stop it.

"That's it," he purred, his fingers curling inside of you, "give in."

His words sent a rush of arousal through your body, and you whimpered and cried out. Your hips thrust upwards, grinding against his hand. Your hands flew to his shoulders, clinging onto him for dear life.

The heat spread through you like wildfire, your muscles clenched and tightened, your vision blurring as everything erupted at once. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, suppressing your screams of pleasure. A gush of wetness dripped from between your legs, soaking his fingers and hand.

Daemon chuckled softly, continuing to fuck you with his fingers, drawing out the pleasure. Your entire body was shaking and quivering, and you felt lightheaded. He slowly removed his fingers, letting out a soft groan as he admired the mess you'd made.

You felt deeply ashamed and embarrassed, covering your face with your hands. He smiled, licking the sticky wetness from his fingers.

"Now then," he said, pulling your hands away from your face, "are you ready for the rest? Or shall I just leave you here like this? a shivering little puddle..."

Your cheeks flushed pink and you bit your lip, hesitating. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for your response.

"I... I want it." you breathed, "Please."

He grinned, his eyes roaming over your body. His cock was straining against the front of his pants, and you couldn't help but notice how big he was. You gulped nervously, suddenly wondering if this was a good idea.

"Kneel for me," he ordered, his voice husky and strained.

He pulled away from you, the warmth of his body fading from yours, leaving you shivering and panting. He watched as you climbed off the bar and moved to the floor, he turned and reached for his cloak, tossing it on the ground in front of you.

"For your knees," he said with a wink.

You blushed, kneeling down on the soft fabric, looking up at him with wide eyes, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips.

He stood in front of you, his hand going to the front of his pants. The laces were already undone, and his cock sprang free. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of his length, hard and thick. It was intimidating, but at the same time, it stirred a dark hunger within you.

"Open your mouth," he instructed, and you did as you were told, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out.

He hummed his approval, and moved closer, his cock bumping against your cheek. He guided the tip to your lips, running it across them, smiling when you flicked your tongue out and licked the tip.

"Good girl," he murmured.

He sighed, his hand tangling in your hair, guiding you to take more of him. Your mouth stretched around his cock, the head hitting the back of your throat. You gagged and choked, the taste of him filling your senses.

"Mmm, there we go." he moaned.

He began thrusting, his hips rocking back and forth, sliding his cock in and out of your mouth. You gripped his thighs, trying to hold him still, but he was too strong, his movements too rough. You gagged and spluttered, struggling to breathe, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes. He groaned, his grip on your hair tightening, holding you in place as he fucked your mouth.

His movements became more frantic, and he threw his head back, his breathing ragged, losing himself in his own pleasure, his thrusts becoming faster, harder. He looked like a god, towering over you, his chest heaving, his muscles flexing, his teeth bared. He let out a low groan, spilling his seed in your mouth. You swallowed his release, licking the last of it from his tip.

He released you, his cock slipping from your lips. You fell back onto your hands and knees, panting, gasping for air with a desperate ache between your legs.

He chuckled, and knelt down, grabbing your chin and pulling you to your feet. You looked up at him, your gaze locking on his violet eyes. "You can go if you wish, little thief," he purred, his eyes fixed on yours, "I won't stop you."

You were silent for a moment, your mind racing, unsure of what to do.

"But," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, his eyes darkening, "if you stay, I promise you, you won't regret it."

You looked at him, your chest heaving. The heat from his body was intoxicating, his scent filling your nostrils, his taste still lingering on your tongue. You stared up at him, hesitating for a moment. Your mind was telling you to run, but your body was screaming for you to stay. The heat between your thighs was aching and throbbing, and the thought of him fucking you made your stomach flip.

Daemon noticed your apprehension and laughed, "Don't worry, sweetheart," he said, leaning down and hoisting you over his shoulder. He carried you through the tavern, his hand smacking your ass as he walked, you let out a giggle, kicking your legs, enjoying the feel of his large hands groping and squeezing you.

He laid you down on a nearby table, standing over you and gazing at your naked form. You lay there, trembling, looking up at him with wide eyes. In that moment, you knew what you wanted. You wanted him, no matter the consequences. You reached up and gripped his shoulders, pulling him down on top of you, your lips crashing against his.

He growled against your mouth, his hands spreading your thighs. You gasped, your breath hitching as you felt the tip of his cock press against your entrance.

He paused, looking down at you, "Tell me you want it."

"I-I want it," you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper.

He smirked, satisfied with your answer, and pressed his lips against yours again. His nails dug into your hips, pulling you closer as his cock eased inside of you. You gasped and groaned, gripping his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin.

He pushed his hips forward, sheathing his entire length inside of you. You gasped, and he paused, giving you time to adjust to his size. It was almost too much for you, the way he was pressing his hips flush against yours, filling you up completely.

He groaned and started to move, his thrusts slow and deep, his lips kissing along your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, his fingers gripping your hair and yanking, forcing your head back.

You whimpered and gasped, your nails raking down his back. He grunted, picking up the pace, slamming his hips into yours harder and faster, each stroke bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

He was a sight to behold, all muscle and strength, sweat glistening on his toned body. Your moans filled the room, your walls squeezing him tight, milking his cock as he fucked you.

"Careful little thief, you don't want me to spill my seed just yet, do you?" he taunted.

"No..." you whined, "please, don't."

He chuckled, his thrusts slowing. He was teasing you, drawing it out. Your hands moved to his hips, pulling him closer, encouraging him to fuck you harder.

He smiled at your attempts to get him deeper inside of you, "What a good little whore," he praised.

You moaned, and he leaned down, capturing your lips with his. His kiss was hungry and desperate, his tongue slipping past your parted lips, swirling against yours. You writhed beneath him, your fingers digging into his flesh, and his hips picked up speed, pounding into you relentlessly. His hands gripped the sides of the table, his knuckles turning white.

You threw your head back, gasping and moaning. Your back arched, pushing your breasts into his chest, your nipples rubbing against his skin. The feel of him moving inside of you, stretching you, the sound of his skin slapping against yours, it was all too much. Your walls clenched and spasmed, and you came with a loud cry.

Daemon groaned, his thrusts growing erratic, his breathing heavy. He was close, and he wanted to enjoy every second of it. His lips found yours, and he kissed you hard, swallowing your moans as his hands gripped your hips tightly.

He grunted and thrust one last time, then he pulled out and spilled his seed on your stomach. You whined, missing the feeling of his cock inside of you. He smirked, leaning down and kissing your neck, "Do you consider that a suitable punishment?" he whispered.

You nodded, too dazed to speak. He smiled and stood, tucking his cock back into his pants. You sat up, watching as he gathered his belongings, slipping his shirt back on. You grabbed your own clothes and quickly dressed, the silence between the two of you growing heavy. You glanced at him as he pulled his boots on, then watched him struggle to properly attach his armor.

"Let me help," you offered.

He raised a brow and shrugged, letting you finish strapping on the rest. He looked down at you and grinned, "don't let me catch you again, little thief, or I'll be forced to do much worse."

"Perhaps I want to be caught."

He chuckled, and leaned down, kissing your lips one last time. He straightened and pulled his hood up, giving you a wink before he slipped out the door.

Months had passed since your encounter with the prince, and your life went on as normal. Back to stealing and thieving, and doing your best to stay out of trouble.

You had just finished up a productive day of pickpocketing and swiping, and decided to enjoy the evening in a small tavern, hoping to make a quick buck in a game of cards.

You were on your way there when you saw him, standing by the door. He was unmistakable, his white hair, his violet eyes, and the dark armor that covered his body.

Your first instinct was to run, even though you weren't committing any crime at the moment. But another part of you was curious, excited, even. So you gave into your desires, sneaking around the corner and approaching him from behind.

You crept closer, keeping an eye on his movements. You reached out, gently placing a hand on his arm and pressed yourself against his back, your hand reaching around and grabbing the pommel of his sword.

He flinched, his hand grabbing your wrist forcefully, quickly turning to face you, his eyes blazing with fury.

"Well hello, little thief," he said, his expression changing from angry to amused.

"Lord Commander," you cooed, batting your lashes innocently, "is something the matter?"

His eyes narrowed and he looked around, checking to see if anyone was watching. When he was satisfied no one was paying attention, he yanked you around the corner, out of sight.

You felt his hands on your waist, hoisting you up and tossing you over his shoulder. You screamed and giggled in delight as he carried you off, ready to find another punishment for your insolence.

[traveler-at-heart]

How to train your spy

Request by @happychopshoppenguin

Summary: You meet a hot stranger in a bar. The next morning, there's a familiar face at your SHIELD training.

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

-

Of course it was a bad idea. Irresponsible, unbecoming of an adult who had just gotten her dream job.

But your new life started tomorrow and you knew that from then on, it was all about duty and service.

In that case, who could blame you for going out to dance one last time?

“Another round of shots” you requested at the bar, looking over your shoulder.

“Can I buy you a drink?” a man said next to you and you politely declined. However, he moved closer, eyeing you up and down. “Come on, sweetheart. We can have a good time”

“Hi, baby. What’s taking so long?” a raspy voice said behind you. You were about to correct the person, who had probably mistaken you for someone else.

Green eyes met yours, and you were breathless at the beauty in front of you. The woman rested her chin on your shoulder.

“Is this man giving you trouble?” she said in a playful tone, but her glare was murderuous. It was enough to make him give up, turning around to leave.

“Thanks” you said, relaxing against the woman’s chest. She smelled incredible and you were a little drunk. It was hard to keep your distance. “Can I buy you a drink? To thank you, of course”

“One more couldn’t hurt. But seems like you have enough to drink” she commented when the bartender gave you a tray with six tequila shots.

“Oh, these are for my friends. I can’t get wasted today. I’m starting a new job tomorrow”

“Congratulations…” her words hung in the air and you picked up on the intent, jumping up to introduce yourself.

“Y/N Y/L/N. And you are…?”

“Just Nat” the woman shook your hand and you blushed at the contact.

“Well, just Nat. What brings you here on this fine Sunday night?”

“Waiting for a friend. He should be here in…45 minutes”

“Can I keep you company for those 45 minutes?” you offered, sitting next to her on a bar stool.

“Sure. Why don’t you tell me what was your plan if I hadn’t shown up to save you from that creep?”

“Oh, you saved me, huh?” you chuckled and Nat nodded, bringing the glass of scotch to her lips. You were enthranced by her beautiful, elegant jawline and neck.

“Is that what you were planning on doing? Stare at him?” she mocked and you rolled your eyes.

“I’ll have you know I am good at fighting”

“Like karate or…”

“Like many things. And I can throw a punch. A good one. I can show you”

“Maybe some other time. How about we play some darts?” she leaned forward, arching an eyebrow. All you could do was nod dumbly.

Nat took the tray of shots with her and you agreed that the loser would drink for each turn.

“Crap” you said after the third shot. “You’re really good at this”

“I should have mentioned that before we set the rules, huh?”

“Let’s just play something different” you said, sitting in a quiet corner of the bar. “Truth or dare”

“Alright. I’ll start. Dare”

“Tell me your name. Not just Nat”

The redhead grabbed a shot and downed it. You laughed.

“Now you”

“Alright… truth” but before Nat could ask anything, you took a shot, and began speaking, slightly slurring your words. “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen”

The woman blushed and you chuckled, realising that’s not how the game worked after it was too late.

“My turn. I dare you to…”

“I’m supposed to dare you, isn’t how this works…?” you wondered out loud, drinking yet another shot.

“I dare you to kiss me” Nat said, louder. Her gaze traveled from your mouth to your lips, and you didn’t have to be told twice.

The kiss was messy, and desperate, teeth clashing as you pulled the woman by the collar of her jacket. The force of your movements made her stand up, and pretty soon you felt the edge of a pool table against your legs.

Were you about to have sex with a total stranger in the corner of a bar?

Nat bit your lip, making you moan against her tongue.

Well, yes, apparently you were about to get fucked by a beautiful woman in a bar…

But then…

“Seriously?” a voice said behind you. It was a man, carrying a… bow and arrow?

“You told me to hang back” Nat answered. You turned to glare at the man for interrupting you, but a couple of men in black suits followed close behind. “Messy work, Barton. They followed you all the way here”

“Help me out or get a room”

The latter would work for you, except the men began to throw punches, some of then carrying knives. In spite of the alcohol, you were able to knock down one.

Apparently that wasn’t so impressive, considering Nat and Mister Bow and Arrow had taken care of the other six on their own.

“Good work” you gave a thumbs up, practically passing out on the chair. The alcohol had finally kicked in enough to make you dizzy.

“We have to go” the man pressed and Nat sighed.

“I didn’t get your phone number” you complained, less and less focused on the woman in front of you. You felt arms around you, leaving you close to the table where your friends were sitting.

“I’ll see you around” Nat promised, kissing your cheek. You smiled, but the last thing you saw was your friend’s face as you dropped to the floor.

—

Stupid. Stupid.

Idiotic.

After coffe, you ran 10 miles and swam for 30 minutes. How unfortunate that intense physical activity was the only way to cure your hangovers.

Luckily, SHIELD had the best facilities and you were able to shower before your introduction to the program.

After acing every test -physical, psychological, medical and polygraph- you were set to start your training to become a SHIELD agent.

You entered the first floor gym, noticing there were more men than women -which was to be expected, but made you anxious nonetheless. It was hard to stand out in a male dominated field, especially if your instructor was a man as well.

But as everyone stood around the gym and the doors opened one last time, you turned around.

Nat.

Nat was here, wearing a black jacket with the SHIELD logo and training pants.

Your eyes met for a brief second and she smiled, clearly amused.

“Welcome to SHIELD” she said in an icy tone. “Your training begins today. There are no days off and if you have a problem with that, you might as well leave now. Agents on the field don’t rest, or let their guard down because if they do, they get killed. Training starts every day at seven, do not be late. You’ll also have to study languages, technology, weapons and cryptography”

Everyone in the room stayed silent, their eyes on the redhead.

“Now, I’ll be honest, my idea of fun isn’t training new recruits. I’m not very patient and I won’t tolerate people who don’t take this seriously. Today, we will begin with combat training. Y/L/N, come over here”

Wait, what?

Well, fuck. Scratching the back of your neck, you sighed and walked to the front of the line. With her back to the group, Nat smiled, signaling for you to stand next to her in the sparring mat. You were far enough from the rest of the people to at least speak.

“You had to pick the girl with a massive hangover”

“Yours is the only name I know” she lied and you rolled your eyes.

“I was hoping we’d meet again, but not for you to kick my ass”

Assuming a fighting stance, you figured she wanted you to attack first. You were barely able to throw a punch when she had you pinned to the ground.

Every time you got up, she found a way to knock you down. And not just that, she’d place her face close to yours, or end on top of you. Not only was she impossible to beat, but also completely intoxicating. The memories from last night were foggy, except for the way her lips felt on yours.

“Why are you all staring? Find a partner and practice” the woman said to the recruits.

“Can I at least get your name now?” you asked, panting on the floor.

“Natasha” she gave you her hand to help you up. “Natasha Romanoff”

—

Natasha - no, Agent Romanoff-, was giving you a masterclass on psychological warfare.

She teased you endlessly, with little touches that lingered and made your skin feel hot. Or with words spoken when you were close enough to be the only one to hear them.

Like that time on the shooting room, when Natasha approached you, making you relax your shoulders by squeezing them, lowering your elbow to improve your stance.

“Good girl” she whispered against your neck, making you miss the shot completely.

To make matters worse, you had an entire class dedicated to breaking free from different restraints.

Of course, Natasha was the one that handcuffed your hands behind your back, her eyes lingering on the way your chest stuck out.

“Not a bad view” she commented. “Though I do think you’ll enjoy the ropes a bit more”

And yes, you absolutely did. Especially when she squeezed them tighter around your wrists and you groaned.

It wasn’t just physical contact. Natasha could say one small thing in that sultry tone and you’d be on your knees.

“Your foreign language skills seem fine. Russian could be better, though” the redhead commented after your latest review.

“It’s hard to find someone to practice with” you mumbled, your eyes following Natasha’s body as she stood up, walking towards you.

“It’s all in the tongue. You can do wonders when you know how to use it”

“I bet” you mumbled, feeling hot as she leaned past you, opening the door so you could leave her office.

“Be sure to work on that. Wouldn’t want that pretty mouth to disappoint me”

Thoughts of what you could do with your mouth to please her were the only thing on your mind for the rest of the day.

Between the endless teasing and the grueling preparation, the first month went by. You were better at combat, managing to go toe to toe with Natasha. In everything else, you were top of the class.

There was one girl called Lindsay who was particularly fond of you. Natasha realised you were too nice to ignore her, and too naive to notice she was flirting with you.

“I’m meeting some friends at a bar later today. Would love it if you could join us” she said, smiling as you both walked down the hallway to the gym.

“Oh, I was thinking of staying home, I have to catch up with Grey’s Anatomy”

“Come on, you should find time to relax. It must be so hard to have Romanoff all over you”

“Y-yeah”

Yes, all over you but in a totally different way than Lindsay meant.

As if on cue, Natasha opened one of the doors, emerging from a conference room. Lindsay blushed, wondering if the woman had heard. However, Natasha didn’t even look at her.

“Y/N. A word?”

“Yes, Agent” you nodded, walking past her to the empty conference room. “Is everything ok?”

“There’s a mission tonight. Nothing major. Thought you might be ready”

“Seriously?” you said, excited at the idea of infiltrating a terrorist organziation, kicking ass, saving people. “That’s… I’m ready, of course”

“Good. I’ll see you tonight”

You couldn’t even imagine she’d asked you because she was jealous of your friend.

—

You couldn’t complain. For one, if you did, Natasha would kick your ass. Second, it was a great opportunity, especially for a new recruit.

The fact that the mission was sitting around in a car waiting for something to happen was irrelevant.

“So, once we see that dude Rinderknech, we go inside? Hack into his computer? Bug the place?” you said, grabbing the camera and pointing the big lens towards a window of the building.

“We watch and report back” Natasha answered. You turned to her, and she shrugged her shoulders. “Intelligence is 90% of the work. And that means a lot of hours on your ass looking out for bad guys”

“Right” you said, trying to ignore the cold air inside. You couldn’t turn the car or the heat on.

“Here” Natasha said, pulling a blanket out of the backseat. Before you could thank her, she handed you a plastic cup of coffee and a scone.

“Hey, these are my favorites” you noted, biting into the pastry. Remembering your manners a second too late, you muffled a thank you to Natasha. “How did you know?”

“It’s the first thing you pick up at the cafeteria every morning” she rolled her eyes.

“Thank you, Tasha” you said again, unaware that the term of endearment had made the woman blush.

Her hands flew to the car radio, desperately trying to fill the silence.

“Leave it there” you asked when one of your favorite songs came on, placing your hand on her thigh. Natasha had to choke back a whimper.

What the hell? She’d been the one making you all hot and bothered for months now. And here you were, eating a scone and patting her leg, making a mess out of the best spy in the world.

“Keane was my first concert” she heard you say. Her blank stare made you insist, waiting for a reaction. “Keane? English band?”

“I don’t listen to a lot of music. And I’ve never been to a concert either” she muttered, pretending to look out the window for your person of interest.

“A concert virgin. If you ever interested, I’ll be happy to be your first” you joked.

“Thanks. That might be fun”

“Not as good as playing darts and getting drunk, though” you said and Natasha bit back a smile.

It was the first time either one of you mentioned that night. Mainly because bringing it up only made you think about how good Natasha felt.

Green eyes met yours and the intensity made you shiver.

The sound of a text on your phone interrupted the moment

“That your girlfriend?” Natasha said, feigning indifference.

“Who, Lindsay? She’s just a friend”

“Right. Don’t be naive. That’s how you get yourself killed out in the field” the redhead grumbled.

“Sorry, I haven’t noticed much other than how ridiculously good you look on your SHIELD uniform”

“Stop that” Natasha said, blushing.

Blushing because of you? Accomplishment of a lifetime.

“I’m only giving as good as I get, Agent”

Natasha chuckled, moving forward in her seat to get a better look out… and probably hide that she was blushing again.

“There they are” she nodded towards the corner. You recognised Rinderknech by the tattoo on his neck. He was speaking to a group of men when their attention turned to your car.

“Nat?” you said when two of their bodyguards began to approach you. “What do we do?”

Turning back, Natasha noticed a black SUV, blocking the back street. It was impossible to escape without making a scene.

Her mind went blank, the only concern she had was that you could get hurt, all because she made you join her on a mission that wasn’t that necessary.

The men kept walking and Natasha remained frozen. Then, it came to you.

“Kiss me” you turned, urgency in your tone.

“What?”

“PDA and all that. Will make them uncomfortable. Just do it” you said, pulling her by the shirt until her lips met yours.

This time, her lips tasted of coffee and sugar. After a few seconds, Natasha’s mind drifted from the mission, and all she could think about was you. As your mouth parted to give her access, Natasha’s hand went up your leg all the way to the button of your jeans.

“Excuse me?” a man tapped on the glass.

Damn it. You rolled down the window, swollen lips and the first two buttons of your shirt undone. When did she do that?

“Oh, never mind” the man looked amused, but seemed convinced enough that you weren’t a threat.

“We should go” Natasha said, knowing it wasn’t safe to stick around after a close call.

You spent the rest of the ride in silence, but it was pretty obvious what was going through your head as you shifted uncomfortably on your seat of the car.

“We should…”

“Do you want to…?”

As Natasha parked the car, you spoke at the same time, looking at each other and smiling.

Before you could start over, Barton approached the car, surprised when he spotted you inside.

“Hey, you must be Y/N” Barton said, looking at the coffee cup and the bag with half a scone. He smiled again, turning to Natasha. “Jesus, Nat. Just ask the girl out”

“Shut it”

“Crappy coffee in a car during a stakeout is not a proper date” the man insisted and walked away before Natasha could slap the lights out of him.

“And here I was, thinking I was on the mission for my talents” you laughed, exiting the car.

“Y/N, wait!” Natasha called. “I did. Wanted to ask you out. I’m just… not good at this”

“That’s ok. I am” you said, pulling her close to you. “Let’s just not do darts, tequila or fight against organized crime. I think we’ve had enough of that”

“What about all the kissing?”

“Oh, that is definitely happening” you smiled, leaning forward. “I can’t wait for you to hear all the Russian I’ve been learning, detka”

With a kiss on her neck, you walked to the SHIELD building, pleased with Nat’s shocked stare.

All these months, she’d been teaching you how to be a spy; and more importantly, how to be a tease.

She was about to found out how good of a teacher she was.

[hiraethwrote]

AS I LIVE AND BREATHE

pairing : tobio kageyama x f!reader summary : he thought time had extinguished any silly little feelings he'd had for you. that was way back in high school anyways. why would they linger when he didn't have you around to remind him? cw : just pure fluff, very self indulgent, kinda boring but idc, heavy pining, timeskip, set in 2016, flashbacks, reader is a uni dropout (lowkey me venting about dropping out lol), mild cursing, no use of y/n word count : 3.5k

He couldn’t help how his looks always used to linger — a generous gesture he had only spared you.

It wasn’t news to Tobio that he was notorious for being unapproachable. He had a permanent frown stamped on his forehead that always gave the impression that he was in no mood to interact with anyone. And if someone had been possessed with the spirit of engaging in small talk, he would keep his answers short and to the point. If the topic didn’t interest him, he saw no reason why he would waste his energy on it.

Eventually people just stopped trying, leaving him to live in his exclusive bubble where volleyball was the only thing that mattered — and that was enough for him.

However, you decided to go against the stream, ignoring the pinched eyebrows and standoffish demeanour.

It wasn’t anything big, but you just spared him something as simple as a smile. If he accidentally locked eyes with you across the classroom, or you passed each other in the halls, your lips would curl into the kindest smile before going on with your day.

At first he had thought you must have mistaken him for someone else, because why would you smile at him? You never really talked to each other, falling into the roles of simply being classmates.

But the tiny smiles continued, clearly meant for him. And what was probably just a meaningless act of kindness to you, had heat creep up his neck and colour his cheeks in dusty pink. Eventually he developed the tiniest hallway crush, eyes shyly seeking you out as he impatiently waited for you to catch him.

That’s where his courage stopped however. He knew he would never be brave enough to ever initiate a conversation, based on the few times words were exchanged between you and his mouth would completely dry out. You could come over to ask the most casual question of “do you have a pen I could borrow?”, and when he muttered a shy no, you simply went on to ask the next person, thinking nothing more of it.

Tobio would churn over the interaction for hours, hindsight supplying him with all the possible answers he could have given you.

Three years of a childish crush eventually came to an end when graduation rolled around. When separated, your smiles simply ceased to exist in his life and it was like a fog had lifted. He left Karasuno, and the crush evaporated into nothingness and he grew out of the childish infatuation.

That’s what he thought at least.

Right now, that very smile that had his heart race was staring back at him, identical to how he remembered it — turns out his infatuation had nothing to do with age, and everything to do with you.

Your deadpanned expression twisted into one of pleasant surprise when you spotted him. “Kageyama Tobio, as I live and breathe!”

Maybe he had always had a tiny glimmer of hope he would eventually run into you again — that being said, he was not prepared for that time to be now. Last he heard, you were basking in the glorious university life in Tokyo, attending some prestigious education he could only imagine getting into. You weren’t supposed to stand behind the counter of the quaint convenience store, much like you had done when you were sixteen.

What was even more unexpected was how you knew his name. Your interactions throughout your acquaintance had been so few and far between, he had just assumed you knew him as ‘that volleyball guy’ — but hearing his name spoken in the tune of your voice, travelling in cheerful waves, had his heart beat a little faster.

Despite his frozen stature, he let his eyes take in the scenery of you sat behind the counter. Your shoulders were close under your ears, the corporate fleece doing little to shield out the gushing cold air that occupied the store.

As unflattering as the white light above might have been, it did little to diminish your appearance which was prettier than he recalled — you looked very much like yourself, just slightly different. Every feature had turned more defined, the childlike curves slowly fading with time.

“There’s a face I didn’t think I’d see any time soon.”

Swallowing his nerves, praying his flushed cheeks wasn’t beyond obvious, he placed his items on the surface in front of you.

“Could say the same.” He wished he was brave enough to look at your face, wanting to take in all the subtle changes to your appearance. But he didn’t dare let his eyes rest on you for more than a few moments at a time, redirecting his attention to the rather interesting products he was purchasing, impatiently waiting for his heart to settle so he could act like a normal human being.

“Thought you were busy being a big shot volleyball player,” you teased, the obnoxious beeping of you scanning his items ringing in his ears. “What are you doing back home?”

He cleared his throat, hoping it would bring back some steadiness to it. “Just visiting,” nodding carefully as the words tumbled awkwardly out of him.

As he paid for his items, he tried to let his innocent urges control him and tilt his head to look at you — he had to greet the embarrassed redness to his cheeks like an old friend when he saw you already had your eyes focused on him.

“Are you in town for long?” You asked as you handed him the bagged groceries, your fingers brushing against his in a featherlight touch. It was so modest, he wasn’t even sure you felt it — he most certainly did.

“Just a few days.”

“That’s nice. A break from your hectic schedule.”

“I’ll still practice.”

Your smile widened as you pulled your sleeves over your hands, folding your arms and leaning forward on the counter. “Yeah, guess I kinda knew that.”

He felt so stupid, ogling you with big eyes as he racked his brain for all that he knew of small talk, and yet he blanked completely.

“Guess the life of a pro athlete never stops,” you said as you checked your wristwatch, probably waiting for the time to strike eleven so you could close up.

“No, not really.”

He sensed an awkward silence sneak in on the conversation, and he so desperately did not want it to end. And he spotted the slightest betrayal in your expression when your smile wavered for a split second — and he was convinced it was because you thought he was being weird.

With this opportunity served on a silver platter, he wanted to prove he wasn’t as socially inapt as he came across to be.

“You’re in Tokyo now, right?”

“Well, yes, technically,” you chuckled, undisclosed information hiding in your answer. It was uncontrollable how he quirked an eyebrow in confusion, though he quickly smoothened it in hopes he didn’t come across as rude. “Guess I’m home visiting as well. For a while.”

“And do you like it? Tokyo?”

“It’s definitely more my pace.”

That confirmed his suspicions, possessing a lively personality that seemed too big for this small town. He had always found you to have a soothing type of vibrancy that filled every room you walked into.

And your energy was infectious. He was still anxious beyond belief, but somewhere inside him he could sense that your presence had a calming effect on him. It possessed him with a flash of courage when he said “it’s nice seeing you again.”

You blinked at him, lips parted in surprise at his unexpected line, and for a moment he was sure he had messed up. He clenched his fists, waiting for you to laugh at him or tell him off.

He didn’t expect your smile to return, reigniting the butterflies once again. “Yeah,” you spoke softly, “yeah, you too.” The smile remained and the cute crinkles by your eyes deepened.

The conversation was once more drifting towards a close, and this time Tobio didn’t think he had it in him to resurrect it. He took a deep breath and presented you with a tight lipped smile, mumbling a quiet “see ya,” before turning on his heel and heading for the door.

He only had time to place his palm against the cool glass before you called his name. “Hey, Kageyama,” capturing his attention, eyebrows narrowed as he waited for your next words. “I close up in like ten minutes. Wanna walk me home?”

What? Had he heard you right?

You sunk your teeth cutely into your bottom lip, a tiny bit amused by how visibly his mind was racing to comprehend your request. “I would love to catch up more.”

His shoulders raised, as if this wasn’t the most stressful interaction he could ever remember being in, “sure.”

You gave him a look, one he couldn’t quite deduce the meaning of, while there was a sprinkle of mischief in your pursed smirk.

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket so his nerves wouldn’t spill out in anxious fidgeting, while you started all your closing routines.

As subtly as he managed, he kept his attention on you, standing behind the register, counting the change as you quietly hummed along to the melody coming from the cheap radio behind you. Consuming his mind was the thought that you seems to fit perfectly into the impression he had created of you back in school — kind, generally keeping a smile on your face, really just trying to enjoy the day that was today.

Your head tilted down to check your wristwatch again as you let out a deep exhale, ridding yourself of the strain caused from the closing shift before you disappeared down one of the isles.

Shifting his weight from one foot to another, he was still trying to mentally prepare himself for the walk home — he was probably never again going to get the chance to prove to you that he wasn’t as socially constipated and egocentric like everyone thought he was.

The lights shut off, and you emerged again, having changed out of the uniform and into a black hoodie. “Finally,” your head fell back playfully in light exasperation, hands rummaging through your bag before you pulled out your keys, “staying open until eleven on a Saturday should be considered a crime. There’s not a soul present the last hour.”

Tobio walked out the door first, and without even thinking about it, he simply held the door open for you. He had just acted on pure instinct, and didn’t reflect on it until you flashed him another one of your charming grins. As you mumbled quiet gratitudes, he spun his head away and retracted further into the neck of his jacket — if you were to look directly at him, you would definitely be able to see the generous flush spreading across his face.

“So, Kageyama Tobio,” you said nonchalantly, spinning the keys around your finger before tossing them in your bag again, “the olympics. Quite the achievement.”

“Thank you.”

You chuckled as you startled to fiddle with the packaging of a protein bar. “Never took you to be so humble,” you teased.

Turning to look at you again, he let his eyes be led by the protein bar heading for your mouth, before landing on your lips — your plump, glossy lips that looked so extremely soft. It wasn’t until you’d finished chewing and started talking again he was able to catch himself staring and avert his gaze back to the path ahead.

“I mean, from what I’ve seen of you on the court, it’s not the first word I would use to describe you.”

“You’ve seen me play?”

A deeper laugh escaped you, one that reactively caused a smile to grow on his face — he quickly wiped it away, too scared to lean into the feeling. “Of course I have. Several. Always having us at the edge of our seats. But you-“ you cut yourself off, pointing the bar in your hand at him.

Did you even have a clue what you were doing to him? His breath hitching in his throat, tense shoulders stiffening his arms when you so abruptly stepped ahead to walk backwards while always able to look at him.

“You, mister, got pride filling your every fibre when playing.”

Eyes widened at your compliment — because that’s what it was, a compliment. Not a comment with rude undertones, not a snarky statement to piss him off, but genuine admiration for his craft.

“You think so?”

“No, I know so. It’s quite obvious when looking at you.”

“Been looking at me quite a lot, have you?”

“As a matter of fact, I have.”

This time he surrendered to the urge to flash you a smile. It was a reserved one, however, barely able to spot how the corner of his lips tilted upwards — cute.

“Guess it’s not too long until you head for Rio, right?” You asked as you took another bite.

“In a couple of months,” he retracted his hands from his pockets to clutch around the strap of his bag. “Kind of a wonder they let me visit home.”

“Yeah, would think they’d have you locked up in the gym until you leave,” and you chucked again, a sound he quickly realised he really liked to hear.

He cleared his throat, slowly stepping into a more confident role. “When are you heading back to Tokyo?”

Your steps came to a halt, and he couldn’t help but notice how nice you looked under the warm light from the street lamps, he nearly missed the uncertainty that traveled across your face.

Eventually it seemed you reached a conclusion, opening your mouth. “I don’t know, to be honest. Soon hopefully.”

“Studies going well?”

“No,” you hesitated, forcing a laugh. “In fact, they’re not going at all.” You could tell by the look on his face he was confused. “I dropped out.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You didn’t know why it had so easily slipped past your tongue. Usually you had a hard time admitting it out loud, feeling the weighing sensation of disappointment from everyone you told.

However, there was something about Tobio that had you fall into a sense of comfort you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the fact that he was someone who wasn’t a complete stranger to your life, yet unfamiliar enough that he felt unrelated to everything going on.

“Do you regret it?”

It wasn’t the question you expected. People usually wanted to know why — why would you do that, and what were you to do now? Would you manage to find a job no when you had strayed from your original plan?

You let the question linger in the air for a moment before you answered, “no. I don’t.”

His chest raised as he took a deep breath, a welcoming and warm smile greeting you, one that was wider than the one he flashed you earlier. “Good.”

It was one word — just one word, yet it was loaded with a sense of understanding you had barely received when sharing your life changing news. It had you purse your lips to contain the overwhelming smile that was about to overtake your entire face.

The eye contact was intense, heart pounding a little harder by how surprisingly comfortable it felt, filling you with giddiness you hadn’t experienced in a while.

“You know,” you cleared your throat as you turned your back to him and started walking again. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.” It only took him a few seconds to catch up and walk along side you again. “You’re quite the character, Kageyama.”

He scoffed, pretending like what you said didn’t make his heart flutter. “Care to elaborate?”

“I don’t know, I always just assumed you would be like how you are when you play,” you sighed. “You’re so sure of yourself when you’re tossing. Very serene, if you will. Unless you were yelling at that little guy. Damn, what was his name? The ginger?”

Amusement twisted his expression. Not only because you knew Hinata as ‘the ginger’, but also because you had known his name, but not remembered his old teammate’s name despite him being considerably more outgoing than himself — Tobio was almost certain you’d had more conversations with Hinata than you had ever had with him.

“You talking about Hinata?”

“Yes! Him!” Excitement spilling out in your gestures. “Besides the point. My friend had a crush on one of your teammates, so she sometimes dragged me along to spy on your practices.”

He was slowly growing tired of how you had the blush lurking under his skin almost permanently, when he once again felt it approaching as he waited for the rest of your story. For the short time you had been walking, he had managed to find a somewhat steady presence, but the little confidence he grasped onto was hanging on by a thin thread. Whatever you were to say next threatened to sever it.

“There was a handful of times I witnessed you scream at the poor guy,” you laughed, nudging an elbow to his side.

Maybe he could latch onto the pleasant vibrations of your laugh to maintain his peace, trying not to let the memories of his outbursts crush him.

“It was a refreshing sight.”

Come on, Kageyama, give into the banter.

“Has anyone ever told you that you come with quite loaded statements?” He hoped he managed to smear his voice with sarcasm in order to hide the insecurity that tainted his words.

“Sorry,” trailing off with a soothing giggle. “Bad habit — what I mean is, it expanded the impression I had of you. You were always so quiet, minding your own business, much like you are now. When you’re playing, however, you’re emotional, if that makes sense?” You said with an awkward chuckle.

Was he dreaming? Was his ears playing a trick on him? Had you really been doing such an analysis of his character, enough to form an opinion that went beyond the impression he gave to most people?

He turned to look at you, locking eyes with you immediately — there was something so tender in your expression, gaze seemingly holding a deeper message he was eager, desperate, to unveil. But he struggled, too wrapped up in how your vibrant grin had transformed into a shy tilt. He couldn’t quite describe it, but it felt more genuine somehow — emotional, maybe, as you’d put it.

“Anyways,” breaking the eye contact, feeling an unfamiliar burning sensation tingle up your neck. You weren’t used to being flustered like this. “Yelling at Hinata, proved you’re more of a hothead than you let on,” trying to fall back to a casual tension, ignoring how the recent eye contact with his captivating blue eyes had stirred up the tiniest whirlwind inside you.

“Never thought you were so observant,” he quipped, and much like you, he tried to smother the boyish excitement you had caused.

“What? D’you go around thinking I was too daft or something?” There was a very evident joking manner to your tone, but didn’t seem like he picked up on it.

“What? No! That’s not-“

“I’m just playing with you, Kageyama,” you laughed, true melody to his ears.

“I just meant… of me.” He kept his eyes locked ahead, knowing his face was about to completely succumb to the blush that was so easily brought to the surface around you.

“Yeah, well,” he heard your deep sigh, “I don’t know. You stuck out to me, despite you trying your very best not to.”

All his experiences regarding you from his school days suddenly intensified — everything was put in a new light with this revolutionary information. No wonder he had found himself falling for you when there was an unspoken connection he wasn’t even aware of.

“This is me!” Your tone changed immediately, the sentimental energy evaporating into nothing but a memory. “Thanks for walking me home.”

He was fortunate enough to receive another of your characteristic smiles, those would probably always have an hypnotising effect on him, as you backed up towards the entryway of your house.

“My pleasure,” he said, trying his best to mirror the earnestness of your affection.

You had pulled out your keys again, “and I’ll make sure to tune in when you’re in Rio. Even if I have to get up in the middle of the night.”

“Maybe you’ll see some of that emotion you were talking about.”

“Oh, I’m betting on it,” you opened the door. “Good night, Kageyama.”

“You know,” he was quick to interject before you had the opportunity to disappear through the door. He swallowed his fear, “you can call me Tobio.”

A smile. “Good night. Tobio.” You held his gaze a second, and you were out of his sight.

tags : @hiraethwa

an : okay i am not so happy with it... the words were working against me on this one. might be bc i'm not familier with writing for hq yet but eventually. i have more hope in my next hq fic. it is also v boring, but it's more of a venting fic for how i feel about dropping out (it comes in waves yk)

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[weedpallor]

Wrong girl made right -ch1

Mob Wandanat x reader

18+

Summary-your walking to work one day and you get kidnapped being mistaken for someone else but they can’t just let you go now can they and your too cute to kill

Warnings:murder, mafia, mean wandanat, mob wandanat, mommy kink, daddy kink, guns, manhandling, manipulation, forced relationship, dark wandanat, reader is a big baby, wandanat threaten her with death

Photo is ai

You were walking around the city heading to a local bar, you lived in one of the most dangerous cities in the country, it was full of mafias, gangs and all around awful people. you had learned to fit in and just go with the flow. It was never easy growing up in a foster home you had parent they just werent good ones so you ended up being placed in a shitty foster home and it was honestly worse then living with your parents. the forster home was a mess there was too many kids and always fights, the house was just pure chaos. Once you had turned 18 though you had started your own life away from being a scared little child. you worked in a bar the one you were heading to now it was a fairly chill bar not many issues happened and your boss was super cool.

As you made your way through a dark alleyway that leads to the bar you work at the alleyway was filled with homeless and beggars you smiled at them hating that fact you couldn’t help more but quickened your pace wanting to get out of the dark cold alleyway it smelt grim and made your stomach turn on a daily basis but it had begun to be normal for you.

Once you reached the exit of the alleyway you took a deep breath of relief, the semi fresh air refreshing your lungs it was refrshing being out of that alley it smelt like things that you never thought you would have to smell walking to work.

Suddenly you felt large viney hands on you and a blacl silk bag placed securely over you head you thoughts were going while as you thrashed around trying to break free from the people holding you they seemed to be men based there strength, you were terrified all that was going though your mind was `am I gunna die?` `whos grabbing me?` `WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?` questions flooded your mind to the point you were dizzy.

You screamed out loudly but a hand quickly clamped down on your head and an object was smacked across the back of your head.

The little light you could see slowly darkened as you lost consciousness and went limp in the arms that were holding you tightly. The last thing you could feel was being dragged across the rough ground and being shoved into what you would assume was a vehicle.

When you next woke up your head was spinning the pain blossemed from the back of your head where you were hit to the sides and front it felt like it shot though your head like a bullet. You could barely even lift you body let alone head. You tried to lift your hands to your head, the pain blossoming and increasing as your worries got worse. You wanted to ease the pain but you found that your arms and legs were bound to the chair you were sitting on. The bag was still placed on your head stopping you from looking around at where you were but you could tell it was cold because your entire body was shaking and shivering. The room was freezing the room was so cold it was as if the cold was seeping into your bones. `who the fuck likes rooms this cold` you thought.

You tried struggling against the restraints, you couldn’t free yourself but you had managed to get the bag off your head by tilting your head down and shaking your head intensely ,making the bag fall to the ground softly, your eyes widened in shock as you saw the room you were in.

It was a spacious room but it was cold and empty other then a few hooks on the wall that look as though they are to suspend a person, you eyes continue to travel around the room it was dirty and there was old splatters of blood on the floor your face turned to disgust and fear as you saw a tray next to you filled with knifes and guns and multiple torture weapens your mind raced with questions ‘where am I? Who’s house is this? What did I do? Am I going to die.’ Your thoughts were running a million miles per houryour mind was swimming with bad thoughts and confusion.

Suddenly the door swings open to reveal a fairly tall woman with long beautiful auburn hair her hair was like silk. She was beautiful. You were stunned by her beauty.

The woman looked familiar. She looked like- oh shit she was Wanda Maximoff she and her wife run one of the most feared mafias you had heared all the rumours and stories of them even seen faint photos of the women. Your jaw goes slack your mouth open in shock ‘what could you have done to piss off a mafia boss’ you thought as she started walking over.

Wanda looked at you when she had first walked in the room she realised you were the wrong girl she had been wanting the girl who had hacked into their system she was frustrated that you weren’t the girl she had been hoping to tournament but she saw something in you she continued walking towards you her eyes shimmering with something unknown to you.

Wanda slowly assess you looking you up and down “hm your cute what’s your name sweetie”

Wanda thinks for a moment looking into your eyes she wasn’t going to let you go but she was deciding what she was going to do with you.

Wanda lifted your chin making you look at her. You stared up at her nervously opening and closing your mouths a few times before speaking “I-I im y/n a-are you gonna….let me go” you ask fearful of what she might reply with.

Wanda pulls away slowly “no. Sweet girl I’m not”

You look at her confused as to why she said it so confidently “but I didn’t do anything wrong why am I here” you say angrily your voice lased with confusion and frustration you were getting annoyed and because of that most rational thouhts left your brain.

Wanda’s eyes narrow at you “don’t speak to me like that” her accent drips through slightly she softens her gaze taking a deep breath “you are here because my men made a mistake and got the wrong girl but you my sweet….” She leans in and grabs your chin again “you are adorable and I want you I want to own you”

You start struggling in the chair you are restrained in “let me out you phyco” you spit at her.

Anger flares in Wanda’s eyes “stop.” She says firmly her tone making you stop. “Now don’t be a brat I can still blow your brains out” she picks the gun up and taps it on your temple threateningly.you were starting to realize you were dumb for trying to argue with her

When you look at her totally shocked she smirks and starts speaking “now you wouldn’t want that would you” the barrel of the gun gets trailed down the side of your face making a tickling sensation wanda brings the tip of the gun to your lips.

She smirks at you with a predatory gaze “open.” She demands taping the gun against your lips impatiently, she was not one to say something twice.

You open your mouth reluctantly and slowly your lips parting far to slowly for the slovakian so she shoves the barrel of the gun into you mouth quickly making you gag around it and start trying to pull away in panic. you were shocked by the suddendness and panic fills your eyes you looked up at wanda pleadingly.

Wanda looks you in the eyes her eyes blow out leaving barely any colour to be seen “god Natasha is going to love you, your just adorable aren’t you” she pushes the gun further into your throat making you gag louder.her smirk got biggershe brushes her thumb across your cheek gently.

She pulls the gun away slowly and looks down at the now covered in saliva gun “awe did baby make a mess oh no” she wipes the end of the gun on your cheek before placing it on the tray beside you “now sweet thing I have to go deal with the idiot who brought you here so I need you to drink this water for me need to make sure your hydrated before I leave” she says a untrustworthy smile plastered on her face.you could barely tell she was lying but her smirk made you not want to believe her.

She opens the bottle of water and puts the drink near your lips “drink or I can knock you out with my bare hands” she says seriously making you realize it definately wasnt water. You take a large gulp of the water not wanting to be knocked out with force the water flows down your throat it tasted horrible making your face screw up in disgust.

Your eyes shimmer with tears “what’s in that”. Wanda let’s out a small laugh seeing your disgusted face she was definately how the stories made her sound.

“That water, my darling has zolpidem in it, it will help you sleep while I figure out who you are and get Natasha informed” she says as she smiles at you with fake sympathy as if she didn’t just drug you Wanda was already planning of ways she is going to corrupt your innocence and make you her compliant little doll.

You slowly feel your head begin to get dizzy and it drops to the side tilting onto your shoulder “you're not going to hurt me right?” You say in a muffled voice worried that you wouldn’t wake up again.

Wanda let’s a laugh ripple through her as she watched you begin to get dizzy “um not yet, I won’t as long as you behave” she gently strokes your hair as you body goes limp in the chair she was smiling down at you maybe she did have a sweet side `unlikely` you thought.

Your vision starts to blur and everything begins to go black but Wanda’s hand on your hair stroking your hair is slightly grounding and helping you panic less.

You slowly start to wake up you don’t know know long it had been but your head was hurting 10 times more now and your vision was blurry to the point you couldn’t make out anything in the room.

Once you started to come to your senses you noticed you were no longer in the cold room at on that hard uncomfortable chair but instead you were in a warm cosy bed you managed to lift your head of the mountain of pillows and mutter to yourself “wow these lot are rich holy crap” you looked around the luxurious room it was massive it was probably bigger then your entire apartment.

You attention focus on a letter on the bedside table you look closely at it and pick it up the letter says:

“I’ll be back soon stay where you are sweet girl”

You looked around the massive room it was hard to focus your eyes but you could tell they were rich the room had a massive kings size bed, placed in the middle of the room up against a wall the bed was a dark grey colour it was a pretty bed and looked extremly expensive there are two night stands on the side of the bed they were a black colour that complimented the grey well the walls were a dark shade of grey as well, on the left side of of the room there was a vanity placed next To a door labeled unsuite

"rich bitches" you mumbled. you turned your head to the other side of the room as you switched sides you noticed a big tv facing the bed, drifting your eyes to the right there was two more doors one labeled closet and the other had no label but a small pad lock "why’s it on the inside" you thought it was the way out but whne you looked back to the tv there was a door next to it with a hand print scanner to get out and in it looked as though it was also on the other side of the door you decided that was the main door to the bed room but what was the other mysterios door you wondered

suddenly you head food steps walk towars the room the door next to the tv was definately the main door to enter and leave then you realized "shit someones coming" you plopped your head down and pretended to be asleep.

The door beeps as the hand is placed on the other side of the door suddenly you hear two voices one you remembered as Wanda’s.

“She’s so cute nat I just wanna ruin her” you hear wanda say in a excited voice

“Well show me then” what you assumed was Natasha’s voice was rough but also very smooth sounding she said it with a playful tone.

“Look at her her names is y/n y/l/n isn’t she cute” Wanda says playfully “she’s like a little doll oh and she’s pretending to be asleep”

Your eyes widen in shock. ‘Oh no’ you thought you yourself.

“Princess, show Natasha your pretty face and stop hiding….Now.” Wanda demands in a cold tone her playfulness leaving her voice

Slowly you sit up your mind was filled with fear you didn’t want to get up but you was scared what would happen if you didn’t you looked up at them both fear filling your eyes.

“Why hello.” Natasha says in a cruel tone filled with fake sympathy.

You shake a little out of fear “ar-are y-you n-na-nat-Natasha?” You ask your voice is shakey and quiet.

Natasha smirks “I am sweet thing Wanda has told me all about you” she says with a fake sweet voice it’s sounds wrong in her mouth the voice makes your cringe but it also adds to your fear she was not a nice person you though.

“Bu-bu-but s-sh-she doesn’t know me” you say in confusion what would she have to tell Natasha other then your name.

Wanda speaks up her voice as smooth as velvet it radiated confidence “I know everything about you my sweet. Everything” this made you more scared then you were which you didn’t think was even possible

“H-how?” you say quietly your mind was hurting with how much you were thinking.

“She has her ways of finding things out” Natasha says she sounded bored of the topic like she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Now let’s get onto rules”.

A few hours later they had told you the many rules they have for you (*let me know if you want me to write what the rules would be*) it was a long list and you were going to stuggle to remember they had shown you around there home it was barely a home it was massive and seemed cold other than a few rooms Wanda’s office was the best room it was homey with books and painting on the walls but there was a modern theme to it making it seem dark they said you weren’t allowed in the basement which confused you.

The two decided to give you mostly free roam around the house other then certain areas and on certain days they informed you the building was heavily guarded and there was lots of gates and locks so you wouldn’t get out even if you tired plus they would find you no matter where you was, this all made you fear the women a lot more then you should.

After the tour you were sat in the bedroom you was originally in you was informed it was in-fact your personal room and you could change it up a little if you behaved will you?… you still didn’t know what the strange door was for it made you curious and anxious to know. The two locked you in the room for the night saying they would see you in the morning.

You were sat at the massive vanity playing with the various items in the draws when you looked up and noticed a camera in each corner of the room “great” you mumbled to yourself huffing you felt useless you couldn’t do anything you were stuck forever unless you manage to escape….

You started trying to come up with plans to get out and how you would get away from these phycos and there cruelty.

After a bit you started getting tired so you walked over to the wardrobe hoping there was some clothes there and surprisingly there was a few a note was attached.

“We will go shopping soon but for now these will do unless you want to walk around bare ;)” the note was unsettling you put the clothes on they were comfortable but were a bit big on you never the less you climbed into bed and tried sleeping.

After a few hours of crying and struggling to sleep out of fear and anxieties you slowly drifted off and fell asleep.

the next morning you woke up feeling like crap your head was in so much pain ou was on the verge of tears, your eyes were puffy from crying all night, your mind was swimming in worries and anxities you felt like pure crap.

as you were sitting up you heared the beep fron the door lock and wanda walked in swaying her hips she was full of confidence and it made you feel slightly attarcated to her no no no you cant think that. wanda gave you a evil smile "good morning baby looks like youve been crying" she says cruely it was more of a statement than a question. you stayed quiet not knowning how to respond she was very confusing did she want you to speak or not? you thought.

Wanda smirked whne you didnt reply "right little lady, up you get. go shower and brush your teeth, there will be some clothes waiting on your bed for when your done oh and if you come out looking like youve been crying i wont be happy" she threats.

you nod and stand up on shakey legs as you start walking pass wanda she suddenly grabs you and pulls you up flush against her

you blushed hard then wanda connected her lips to yours she kissed you with alot of force but it sent sparks shoting though you when her lips connected to yours as she pulls away you were as red as a tomato she smirked seeing you flustered and out of breath

she pushes you towards the unsuite "go shower natasha is waiting downstairs” she says playfully.

You walk into the bathroom.

Authors note:sorry this is short Ive only just started writing on my laptop hope you like it there is a few mistakes I’m sorry let me know any tips in the ask box if you have any please <3 lmk if you want a part 2 :)

[beefboyandbabygirl]

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

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

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

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

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

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

wordcount: 10.0k

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

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.

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

What do normal people do when they feel this bad?

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

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

There’s never anyone at the door.  _____________________________

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

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

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

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

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

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard. 

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back. 

“Morning.”

“M-”

Wait a minute. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice to meet you too, Y/n.” 

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

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

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

This is not new. 

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Y/n?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

“Uh-” 

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

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

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

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

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

You feel like shit.  _____________________________

Why is no one else cursed? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He leaves. 

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

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

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

 “Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard. 

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back. 

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

“Morning, Wonwoo.” 

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

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

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

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

“My favorite woman in accounting!” 

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s great-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wonwoo’s eyebrows raise. “Boyfriend?” 

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

A pause. 

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

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

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

This would be torture.  _____________________________

It is not torture. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-Wonwoo, you don’t have to-”

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

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

Eventually, he lets you go. 

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

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

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

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

“Of course.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyebrows furrow. 

“Wha-” 

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

“Cured?”

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

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

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

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

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

“We can just hug if you-” 

You feel bold.

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

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

What had Wonwoo been talking about? Touch-starved?

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

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

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

His hands run up and down your sides. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Wonwoo,” you pip. 

“Mhm?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He does take care of you. 

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re almost done.” 

“Mhm.” 

“I can’t believe we’re almost done!” 

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

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

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

A pause. He tilts his head.

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

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

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

“We’re not done.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He breathes out unsteadily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I take off your clothes, pretty?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We don’t have to-” 

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

“It’s just if you were too tired..-” 

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

“Okay. C’mere then.” 

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

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

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

“Come ride me, baby.” 

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

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

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

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

“Can I put it in?” you ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re so pretty, baby.” 

“Your tits are so perfect, shit.”

“Pretty girl.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You catch your breaths. 

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

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

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

“Am getting your dick out of me?” 

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

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

He tilts his head teasingly. 

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

[boopshoops]

Ah, how odd. It appears one of the puppets in Playful Land aren't quite like the rest. Almost like it has one of those consciences everyones been talking about, huh?

oc template by ai-kan1!! dividers by dollywons! Sound on!

Name: Isola Pinacirco-Cira

Nicknames: Pin, Pinpin, Goby

Gender: Demiwoman (Though she has not fully realized it yet!)

Pronouns: She/they

Sexuality: Unlabeled

Birthday: May 5 (Taurus)

Age: ??? (She has been asleep for a very long time, but she has been awake for 19 years)

Height: 5'0" or 152cm, though the height of the doll is adjustable.

Voice Claim(s): Lisa Hannigan, Miyuki Sawashiro

Twisted from: Pinocchio, Wendy's Music Box (From Tinkerbell/Peter Pan)

Unique Magic: "I've got no Strings" - The bearer can control and grant practically any unliving, immobile object the ability to move under their command. The more objects are being controlled, the more magic is consumed. However, the generation of blot is shockingly slow, allowing the bearer to use the magic for hours or even days at a time. Depending on the object, it may appear as though it is being haunted by a poltergeist. The magic, however, has a very short range. The object must be within five feet of the bearer, or it is no longer effective. Isola uses this magic to move her body on a day-to-day basis.

Grade: Freshman, though only after the Playful Land Event

Class: 1-D

Job: Playful Land Performer

Hobbies: Dancing ballet, face paint, makeup, putting outfits together, singing, sewing, wood carving, ceramic/pottery/resin repair.

Likes: Feather accessories, being alone, birds, rodents, bugs, performance, applause, classical, soul, and lofi music, animal figurines.

Dislikes: Rain, being alone, excessive heat, winter, bass boosted, fast, or hyper music, too frequent of doll repair jobs, cramped spaces, being unable to eat.

Fears: Being unlovable, never loving someone else, living a life alone, never living in a body they feel comfortable in.

Summary: A quaint performer at the renowned Playful Land, constantly known for putting on a show of elegance and grace. With her unusual cadence, she often struggles to maintain an audience despite her immense talent. Isola frequently scares off certain guests on accident. They have a very hard time handling their emotions, causing them to either come off highly unnatural or lacking facial expressions to a degree that could disturb others.

That's just the cons of being one of the many puppets on the premises, though. She is often mistaken as being one of the other, more robotic workers. Isola's body is detailed and articulated enough to stand out among them, but off-putting enough to be immediately recognized as inhuman. Nonetheless, she remains on the traveling amusement park as what is considered a "highly prized item" by the owner. Of course, you don't come across puppets like her everyday, do you? Might as well put her on display.

When night hits and protocol begins, when the consequences of breaking the many rules of the park take their toll, they can do nothing but watch over it all. It makes her feel sick, quite honestly. Disgusted. Yet, she isn't allowed to help anyone. Her attempts to help usually cause the visitors to flee from her anyway, followed by her own set of serious consequences imposed by the owner. The most she can truly do is make it harder on the other workers: including those she has no choice but to be closest to on the ship: Fellow and Gid- Ah. Wrong Identity. Ernesto and Gino.

CHARACTER PLAYLIST - INSPIRATION - CREATION STORY

Author's Note: holy fuck they have a chokehold on me. hOOOO they have a chokehold on me. she came to me in a vision and did nOT let me go until she was created, holy fuck. UGSDBGSDIUAAAAA anyway, i love her and she is my baby. my slightly fucked up baby.

Note that relationships are up for possible changes in the future- I have thought about possibly involving them with someone romantically, but i feel like I want her to put HERSELF first before that. Her story is one about self love, self discovery, and self care, and I feel like throwing her into oc x canon romance too soon would negate that. ALSO she is NOT a part of my TCOAV au!!! i mean. im probably gonna still do fun stuff where she could interact with my ocs from there since im an au fanatic, but- yeah. tcoav is a story more focused on Yuu Shi, and I feel that would also take away from important parts of Isola's character and growth. tis an excuse to try a new oc profile format too <333

that all being said and on a somewhat less related note. i wanna make a comic of her so badly. fuCK. evaporates into thin air. thank u for coming to my ted talk.

Tag list :D

@lowcallyfruity @skriblee-ksk @cecilebutcher @kitwasnothere @justm3di0cr3

@thehollowwriter @distant-velleity @techno-danger @scint1llat3 @the-trinket-witch

@beneathsakurashade @kathxrat-01 @twsted-canvas @prince-kallisto @qsoap

@sillyslipperybananapeel @tixdixl @twstinginthewind @gimmeurmoneyagh

[ghost-bison]

i became curious and searched up how the name "dalek" came to be:

at first, i thought it must have something to do with the norwegian word "dårlig", which means "bad", because of the doctor's reaction in 2x13 "doomsday" when rose said they were in bad wolf bay ("dårlig ulv stranden" if i'm not mistaken): he thought she'd said "dalek". but if you look up the pronunciation, it sounds more like /dɔːleh/ (approximate english phonetic transcription) than how she said it, /dɑːlɪg/ so i thought, even though the mix-up between "dårlig" and "dalek" was done on purpose and the definition, "bad", would be pretty damn on-the-nose, it's not it. so i did some more research.

apparently, it was terry nation (the guy who invented the daleks and davros in, i guess, 1962) who came up with it. according to him, the name simply "rolled off his typewriter", so it wasn't supposed to mean anything. but like me, he got curious and found out that the word "dalek" is serbo-croatian for "far, distant".

this really pleased me for two separate reasons: first, and this is the most obvious interpretation, the daleks are aliens from a distant world, far from earth. but i mean, to daleks or chelonians or raxacoricofallapatorians or any other alien species, the same can be said for earthlings: we are far, distant from them, and any and all species are far and distant from us.

but! if you think of the other meaning behind "distant", not geographically speaking but culturally/morally speaking, that's when things get interesting: the reason the daleks are the main foe in doctor who is that they are detached, so different from any and every other enemy the doctor and unit and torchwood and the shadow proclamation and such have ever had to fight. they keep surviving and coming back because they are so distant, so alien (in the "bizarre" sense of the word) to all other species.

if you take, for example, us humans, the doctor loves our species because of our capacity for love, forgiveness, change, compassion. you see it in the people he picks: rose, martha, then donna, etc. they represent everything he loves in a human being. everything he needs, everything he misses since his own species, which used to be capable of those feelings too, has gone.

he doesn't pick soldiers and has an aversion toward them, because as much as he pretends to hate it when his companions "wander off", he keeps choosing people whom he knows will wander off, people who will question his orders, people whom he doesn't have to feel or be superior to. whereas soldiers, they are conditioned not to question, and to follow instructions, to do as they are told.

in 1x06 "dalek", when nine realizes that the dalek's gun isn't working, he says "if you can't kill, then what are you good for, dalek? what's the point of you?". then, the dalek tells the doctor, "i am a soldier, i was bred to receive orders".

soldiers, whatever species they are, are too much like daleks: they wouldn't question him. that's why, when he realized he was the last of his species, the dalek turned to the doctor, his greatest enemy ("then what should i do?"), and then rose ("order me to die"), for orders. that's why twelve refused to keep journey blue as his traveling companion in 8x02 "into the dalek": people who don't question orders are dangerous to his lifestyle.

he needs people who go against what he says. not only that, but the doctor is, himself, a soldier of sorts, and sometimes he needs the right orders (1x06 "dalek": "what the hell are you changing into, doctor?" -rose ; "the runaway bride": "doctor, you can stop now"/"sometimes i think you need someone to stop you" -donna ; 4x02 "the fires of pompeii": "not the whole town, just save someone" -donna). else caecilius' family would have died in pompeii. else the doctor would use guns, he would die, he would try to break fixed points in time, he would lose himself.

in that sense, the daleks are as far from the doctor and his children of time as can be. i wrote about it somewhere in a one-shot someday: "the daleks weren’t robots, per se, but they kind of were, for someone like the doctor, or the humans, who both felt everything so deeply when all those monsters knew was hatred".

the daleks are to the doctor what dependence and servitude are to freedom, and in that sense, they are distant.