#she has been having lots of thots lately

[bewitching-666]

hmmm

think I deserve two people kissing on my neck while their hands explore me

[gyuswhore]

Grease (the tragedy)

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.”

jeon wonwoo x reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut [minors DNI], fluff, angst, mechanic!wonu, annoyances to lovers, blind date gone wrong but then gone right, kissing, clit stuff, oral (f. rec), thigh fucking (oop), this all happens at a desk LMAO, title is a what I thought was a funny spin on how people say "grease (the musical)"....has nothing to do with the musical though but lots to do with actual grease!!!

synopsis: In which you have to sit through one of the worst dates of your life, followed by the insistent tug of fate and compulsion that lead you straight back to where you'd sworn you'd never go.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY WIFE CAMOTHY @highvern everyone go say happy birthday to cam or ill appear in your room at night 🔫 anygays HAVE FUN READING THIS I hope this is all the sexy wonu content you wanted, I cant wait for your reaction hehehhehe

and also bigbigbigbig thank you to jessifer @the-boy-meets-evil for proofing this for me!!! ily heh

and and to everyone reading this who is not cam, I hope you enjoy reading mechanic!wonu as much as I liked writing him heheh PLS REMEMBER TO REBLOG AND TELL ME UR THOTS it could be in the tags, replies, an ask literally anything!!!! id love to hear what you guys think!!!!

masterlist

 [You]: do you think he died on the way [Liv]: hes still not there??? [You]: what do you think????? [Liv]: let me ask Amelia [You]: dont bother [You]: he can show up whenever he wants im leaving in 5 [Liv]: you promised you’d sit thru this!! [You]: sit thru what? an empty seat across from me???

Liv doesn’t respond immediately, and you immediately know she’s buggered off to ask her cousin why your date still wasn’t here. 

It’s not like you couldn’t have asked him yourself, the sparse textbox sitting just under Liv’s contact. You open it to inspect the contents. 

[liv’s cousin’s something]: Amelia gave me your number [liv’s cousin’s something]: friday night at the sage&salt at 7  [liv’s cousin’s something]: is that okay [You]: uh hey [You]: yeah that’s fine

Today 7:20 PM

[You]: im here?

The first thread of texts were enough to make you feel like this was some cold business meeting instead of a date, knowing wherever this would lead would be either the city dump or off a cliff. Liv was hearing none of it, taking the guilt tripping route, saying she’d already committed and her cousin was irritating enough even without a scuffle.

So when Friday evening came around you’d pulled on the first dress your fingers could find, took all of ten minutes fighting with your makeup to make it look like you did something and left the house with zero expectations. 

Despite that, as you see a man walk into the establishment dressed like he’d gotten into a fight with a squid and a paper shredder, you feel the stone in your chest tank into the abyss. Zero expectations, and he’s somehow managed to strike out anyway. 

The jacket looks like he’s put it on as a weak cover for the grime stains on his shirt and trousers, a couple jet black splatters across the outfit to really pull the whole thing together. It’s not like he looked homeless or anything, his face surprisingly handsome with his hair pushed away from his forehead. Although he remains looking like he’d been playing football in some neighbourhood parking lot before remembering he had an adult appointment too. 

You’d never seen the man in your life, but your gut told you this was the shit texter who’d kept you waiting for nearly an hour. He seems to notice too, eyes locking from across the restaurant as the waitress leads him to your table. 

“Wonwoo,” you greet with a difficult smile, half sure it came out as a grimace. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he huffs as he practically slams back down on the chair, and you wonder for a moment how the legs didn’t give out. He says your name and you nod. “Sorry I’m late, I got a call in the parking lot.”

He’s been in the parking lot this entire time?!

It’s like you’ve been doused in gasoline and lit on fire, yet somehow needing to give him a shaky reply anyway. 

“O–oh, I see.”

The waitress saves you from spitting in his face when she asks if you were ready to order. 

Dinner was off the table, as you discussed with Liv who forwarded it to her cousin to her–whoever it was that set up this god awful date–and agreed on dessert and perhaps a drink. 

“I’ll have the chocolate cake,” you request in an attempt to make this somewhat better. You consider for a moment before asking for a drink as well, “And a dry gin martini, please.”

“Um,” he staggers as he barely skims the menu, ultimately flipping it closed. “I’ll have the same, I guess.”

Deep voice. You might’ve liked that if you weren’t already so peeved. 

The waitress disappears with the menus, leaving you two alone for the first time. 

“So,” you start with an exhale. “How do you know Amelia?”

“Her husband.”

“I see.”

Silence. 

“How do you know her husband?”

He sighs like this is all inconveniencing him, and it irks you to an irrespective degree. Like you wanted to be here either. 

“He brings his car to the workshop alot, became friends somewhere along the line.”

“Workshop?”

He looks a little startled, cocking his head to the side. “I’m a mechanic? Did Olivia–was it–not tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

It’s silent yet again as the man across from you refuses to elaborate. You curse as you ask him a follow up question. If there was anything you hated more than shouldering a dead conversation, it was sitting through an awkward silence. 

One hour. You’d sit through this for one more hour and then you’d leave. 

“What kind of cars do you work on?”

“Expensive ones,” he answers. You might’ve kicked yourself if he’d ended it at that, but he continues with a purse of his lips. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it. Vintage pieces too.”

“Have I heard of it?”

“The cars?”

“No, I mean,” you let out a breath. “Your workshop.”

“Jeon Motors, just a couple streets down actually.”

You did know what he was talking about, not expecting to recognise it through the empty question, passing by it on multiple occasions in this part of the city.

“Oh, I’ve seen it a few times.”

“Yeah, we’ve been there for a while.”

“Family business?”

“Uh–sort of.” 

“Okay,” you sigh in an irritated laugh. This was going to be a very difficult hour. “Keep that to yourself too.”

“Is there a problem?”

Just as you lift your eyes to lock with his, a ready yes, there is actually a problem on your tongue, there’s an intrusion. 

“Here are your chocolate cakes,” the waitress places the cakes down, and then the drinks. “And your dry gin martinis. Do you guys need anything else?” By the time the waitress is gone you’ve somewhat forced yourself to put that sudden surge of flames out, to a degree at least. 

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing his glass and downing nearly half the contents. He emerges, wiping a bit of a spill from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get this out of the way.”

“Hm?” He’s speaking to you with a very weird surge of intensity, and it confuses you.

“Neither of us wanna be here. You’re clearly trying to be hospitable but I’d really rather you not, especially when we’re both doing this to get our respective ticks off our hides.”

There isn’t much you can do but stare at him. 

“Have I misjudged your advances?” he asks over his glass, sharp eyes piercing. 

“No!” you yelp, reaching for your drink yourself, taking big sips only to emerge sputtering and heaving. 

Your date looks like he’s rising out of his chair when you raise a hand to stop him. 

“No,” you repeat, less jumpy this time. “I guess we could’ve cleared that out from before.”

Did he…snort?

“Sorry.” Dropping his chin to his chest, he composes himself. 

“What?” you ask, remaining annoyed as ever. 

“Nothing.”

That does it. You slam your now empty glass down on the table, slipping your fork out of the napkin a little forcefully, the metal glinting in the light of the restaurant. You dig into a corner of the cake and shove it in your mouth. 

If he was gonna be rude, you could be too. 

“I don’t know about hospitable.” You swallow. “But I assumed not being an ass was kind of an unwritten rule for any situation really. Including the ones you’d rather not be in.”

Wonwoo stares at you with a blank face, his cake untouched. “I’m being an ass. My laugh couldn’t have offended you that much.”

“So you did pick that up,” you comment. “With the way this conversation’s going I would’ve thought it flew right over your engine.”

“I’d argue your laugh was the least offensive thing you’ve done tonight.” You plunge your fork into your cake again. “But clearly we’re in different realms of etiquette.”

Your eyes meet the rough stains on his attire, and then his own that bore into yours like a challenge. The cake isn’t too sweet, rich just the right amount and texturally sound. Maybe something good did come out of this fiasco. 

“Okay fine,” he announces, sitting up straighter. “I apologise.”

“For laughing?”

“And for being obscenely late.”

“And?”

“And…” he genuinely looks like he’s struggling to figure it out, but catches your eyes flickering to his tattered and stained outfit. “And for my entirely inappropriate dressing sense. You’ll have to forgive me for that one, oil and grime are my spoils of war.”

“Wear it like a badge, mister mechanic, but perhaps somewhere it’s appreciated.” 

Wonwoo has already finished his drink, his cake remaining untouched. “You’re quite adamant on disliking me.”

“And you’re quite adamant on being a horrid conversationalist.”

The corners of his mouth lift the slightest bit. Opening his mouth to respond, you cut him off. “Cars don’t talk? Or perhaps, machines are easier to understand?”

“More like I don’t care to be personable.”

“That can’t be good for business.”

“The cars speak for themselves.”

He’s a weird one. Even more so when he offers to pay the entire bill, promising you he wasn’t lying when he said he was good at what he does, and to “make up for lost personality points.” You manage to pay your half anyway, considering the circumstances. 

“Can you at least let me drive you home?” Wonwoo asks as you both step out of the establishment soon after. 

“Depends.” You fix the strap of your bag. “Will it fall apart on the highway?”

The blaring white of the restaurant's outdoor lights backlight Wonwoo to make him look like some sad angel. He turns to you, the same slight smirk that seems to be plastered on his face. “Why don’t you find out?”

“What do you mean sell it? I got this thing a year ago!” 

There isn’t much you can do but sigh loudly as you listen to Olivia talk about the state of her car, the one that cost too much to justify but she seemed to use and abuse like a very replaceable toy truck. 

Leaning against the hood of the darn thing, you talk to her. “The dealership is giving you a shit deal to take it off your hands, you might as well try your luck.”

The look on her face is easy to read as she silences. Not convinced in the slightest, waiting for the conversation to end just so she could figure it out on her own. Sighing loudly, you look back to the dark beauty with a crate of issues that make it spit and sputter to a stop every few weeks. 

“How much did you say the repairs cost again?”

“Enough to put me on food stamps,” she whines through her frustration, tears pricking against her eyes as they glisten under the neighbourhood streetlights. “Why are you smirking like that?!”

“It’s just,” you pause as you consider your next words, pressing your lips together. “This is a little bit your fault.”

Lies, it was entirely her fault. 

Liv stares like you’ve just offended her, which you’re sure you have.

“Care to share how this possible bankruptcy could be my fault?"

“Because you drive the thing like you have a secret reserve buried somewhere in Tenerife.”

“My apologies for making a habit of not being a public nuisance and going forty on a national highway.”

“Your speed-o-metre is not the issue here.”

“Yes, of course, everything’s my fault.”

“Liv, please!” You groan loudly. “Just…let’s try putting up a listing tomorrow. Consider the prospects and you can decide from there.”

Sagging her shoulders and stretching her neck, Liv decides to simply trudge back indoors in silence. You take it as a begrudging yes, and follow her inside. 

That very night, when you were at the very cusp of falling into the dark space of sleep, your brain re-awakens before your eyes do. A jolt as the memory comes back to you of the many months ago, sitting in that restaurant across from a man who was too handsome for the personality he seemed to sire. 

“Expensive ones,” he had said. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it.”

How fitting. 

“Are you going to explain or should I explode instead?” 

You’d mentally prepared for the bombardment of accusations from Liv, her questioning perfectly right as you yourself cringed at the thought of showing your face here of all places. The one last one that’d officially banned her from ever setting you up with an individual of her choosing ever again. 

Hearing only silence as her answer, she appeals; “I thought he was the worst date of your life.”

“Nothing to do with his skills as a mechanic,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact. 

“And everything to do with this being a horrible idea anyway!” Liv stares up at the sign on top of the garage. Jeon Motors. “What makes you think this guy can fix my car?”

What did make you think he could fix Liv’s car? If you’d known you might have given her an answer, but as you stare at the giant signboard that you’ve driven past for longer than you can remember, you can’t help but feel this place has been haunting you. Just a little. 

You can’t help but feel the tingle of goosebumps rise on your skin, the hairs across the expanse standing up at the thought of walking inside. There was no way you could differentiate the reaction from plain nerves or from the cringing drills that sound all the way outside the establishment. Regardless, you make an attempt to look confident as you make your strides into the pungent of the workshop. 

The first thing you note is how…clean everything is. Cleaner than any other workshop you’ve walked into anyway. 

The interior is bigger than it looks from the outside, the ginormous hall hosting about a dozen cars within your eyeshot alone. One side of the great hall holds an array of parked cars in different stages of dismantled and deconstructed, while the other side is lined with contraptions that look like stripped and enlarged elevators. 

Once you’ve inhaled a beyond recommended amount of smoke fumes and listened past all of the clanging, banging and sparks, you register the people that are elbow deep in the hoods of the vehicle they’re working on, enough to leave you and Liv standing at the entrance of an establishment that you can barely make sense of. 

“Can I help you?” A man in stained beige overalls approaches your wide eyed pair, face half covered in his baseball hat and hands occupied with a rag. 

To your slightest dismay, it isn’t the man you’re looking for.

“Uh– is Wonwoo here?” you ask. 

“He’s in a meeting right now. Are you a friend?” 

No, just a failed love interest.

“He,” you falter. If you weren’t a friend…then what were you? “He gave me his card.”

“Do you need help with your car?”

“Mine, actually,” Liv pipes. “It’s outside if you wanna take a look first.”

With one sweeping look across the warehouse, your eyes land on one of the few doors on the left. You register the plain look of it for barely a moment before joining Liv outside. 

By the time her car has been rolled and parked inside for a more thorough inspection, it’s taken you every last grain of your willpower to not stalk back out and wait in your car. For whatever reason, you can’t help but feel a very familiar spasm of irritation spark through you. Here you are, left anxiously waiting for the same man for a second time, merely feet away but remaining occupied with more important things. 

At the very least, the multiple hands prodding around the car’s engine were being somewhat of use, attempting to survey the same issues that had been looked at about a dozen times before. You silently promise to be a better person if this trip wouldn’t be for vain.  

“Am I late for something again?” 

Your throat is suddenly clogged as you open your mouth and no sound graces your presence. The face that meets you has his eyebrows raised as he stares at you in expectation, a ghost of a smile on his face. 

“W–Wonwoo, hi, um.” You clear your throat loudly, heat cursing your cheeks. “No, of course not.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure after…four months?” he asks, hands on his hips and his back straightened.

“I…my friend’s car needed to be looked at so…”

“Ah, of course!” He turns to where you’ve motioned, looking at the popped hood of the car his employees are working on. “I’ll take a look at it myself, don’t worry about it.”

He’s already walking away, towards the car and leaving you a ways away from the action. You stare at his back; the overalls tied at the waist and the stained white T-shirt that clings to his form from the humidity.

Wonwoo remains a man of a few words, and you remain at wits end about it all. 

A loud honk gives you something to do as you jump at the sound so up close, scrambling to move away from the smack centre as another car pulls into the garage. 

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.” Wonwoo snickers from his place hunched over the hood as he cranes his neck to look at you. 

You walk over to where he is to get out of the way. “Was that meant to sound like an innuendo?”

“I was talking about the occasional running over someone’s foot,” he answers. “Not sure what you were thinking.” 

Ignoring the jab, you note that it was now only you and him crowding the car, “Where’s Olivia?”

“Went to look at spare parts.” You watch him as his gloved hands reach further into the enclave and yank at something hard. 

“So you can fix it?” 

“The car? It’ll take a couple days but it’s not really an issue.”

Furrowing your brows, you press on, “But the dealership—”

“Dealerships are the spawn of the devil,” he grunts as he finally wrenches out a spare nut or bolt or something that’s covered in oil. “Let me guess, they wanted her to sell it back to them?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Yes. They tried fixing it, but it'd just stop again.”

“Because they’ve been fixing the symptoms.” He raises his eyes to meet yours, hands occupied with rubbing the part in his hands relatively clean with a rag. “They haven’t bothered to do anything about the actual problem.” 

“Because that’s gonna cost…?”

“Couple hundred, give or take,” he announces nonchalantly, turning his focus back to the engine. 

“But—” That’s it?

“Fifty extra for every question I have to answer after this.” You briefly wonder if Wonwoo’s eyes were always this piercing, boring into your soul like he didn’t need words to know what was going on with you. 

“Fine,” you huff, moving to drag a chair over, mostly just so you could have reason to break eye contact, and plop down as you watch him work. 

The more you think about it, the more you can find yourself unbothered by his strange behaviour. He wasn’t bleak, but nowhere near one of the more interesting people you’ve met. Taking the opportunity to really scan the man head to toe, you can’t say you find anything truly concrete to be this put off by him. 

Not much of a talker, but with the times you’ve prayed for a man that knew when to shut up sometimes, you wonder how much you can actually complain about this boon in particular. 

Besides, he was a looker, and you were completely content shutting your trap if it meant you got to shamelessly ogle at him from this close. 

“You know, this place looks bigger than it does from the outside.”

Wonwoo stares pointedly. 

You raise a shoulder in nonchalance, “Wasn’t a question!”

He simply huffs as he mumbles, “More length than breadth I suppose.”

“What are those things called?” you ask as you watch a sedan get lifted into the on some platform on the other end of the row. 

Glancing back, he answers, “Post lift, car lift, whatever you wanna call it.”

“What does it do?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Touché.” 

Glancing back at him, you catch sight of his stained shirt once again. “Is that the same thing you wore to our date?”

Chin to chest, he registers what he’s wearing, hands still working on pulling bolts and boxes out of the hood. “Have about twenty of the same shirt, I can never be too sure.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks, “Touché.” 

You questioned if this was a mistake. 

Olivia could pick up her car herself, so why did you insist to be the one that did it? As you pay the taxi driver, you feel your ankles lock for a moment as you move to slip out of the cab. Frozen, you hear the driver ask you if everything was alright, to which your legs seem to work again, finally foot to gravel in front of the dreaded workshop.

The Jeon Motors sign blares the same as it always has in the afternoon light, glinting as it encourages you to walk in and do one of the stupider things you’ve done in life. Other than the ridiculous outfit you’ve put on, of course. 

But alas, as you hand over your slip to one of the many mechanics in the workshop, you find yourself praying he wasn’t here after all, that perhaps you could miss him as you leave and never have to see him again. 

Somebody yells out his name, and the dream drifts away like smoke. 

Finding the courage, you look up to where the man shouted for him, and immediately wish you hadn’t. 

Wonwoo remains in his overalls, the same ones that he had tied to his waist the last time you saw him. His undershirt however…

The tank top is revealing too much for you to pretend you don’t care, his hair remaining pushed back and away from his forehead as he walks over to you in what feels like slow motion. He takes the slip that he does not need, smiling at you as he says his hellos. 

“Car’s all fixed up, just need some papers that need signing and you’re all set.”

“Oh, but Liv isn’t here today.”

“That’s alright, you can sign them too,” he reassures, motioning for you to walk with him towards the car. “The car was alright in the test drives, revving hasn’t caused any problems either.”

He halts in front of the now (supposedly) fixed black sedan and pats the hood lightly, “If anything happens tell her to bring it straight here, although it shouldn’t have any more problems.”

“What’s your rate of return on customers?” you ask, a slight smirk on your face.

He thinks for a moment, “Pretty crap. But I guess that means I’m doing something right.”

You consider yourself something of a helicopter parent when it comes to your own car, but perhaps you’d change that if it meant you’d get to come here a little more often. 

Goodness, what’s gotten into you.

Wonwoo’s smiling too, and for a brief moment the silence is nearly awkward. A pause before he proposes leaving. 

“Shall we go to the office then?” 

Nodding eagerly, you trail behind him as he leads you towards the other end of the workshop, passing by even more cars in all their stripped or constructed glory. Glancing in front, you catch sight of Wonwoo’s back, ensnared for a moment before you snap your head away, reciting every curse word you know like a mantra. 

“It’s less hot in here too, keep the air on all the time.” Wonwoo stands in front of the plain doors, hands on the handle to wrench it open. You recognise it as the same door you had noted a few days ago. “Would you like anything? Coffee, tea?”

“Um, just water is fine, thanks.”

It’s quite plain, beige and leather against cream walls and unfittingly white lights. There’s a desk on one corner that’s beyond cluttered with more papers than you can register, pens and other office supplies mixed into the disorganised chaos of the large tabletop.

“Sorry about the mess, I can never find time to sort through it.” To your surprise, the light tinge of his cheeks suggest he might actually feel a little embarrassed. 

Cute. 

There’s cabinets that line on one of the far walls, and you watch him take his gloves off to open it and reach for a cup. The white porcelain emerges stained with an ashy grey as his fingers betray him. He looks flustered, glancing at his hands and back up to the cabinet. 

You can’t help but laugh a little, moving forward to help. “It’s alright, let me.”

“Sorry,” he apologised again, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll, um, wash this off.”

“Go on, I’m here,” you reassure as you move towards the water dispenser in the corner to fill your clean cup. 

He returns with significantly cleaner hands and apologises one last time. “Seems all I do around you is apologise.”

You have the good humour to chuckle, “So I’ve noticed.”

He does well to clear out most of the clutter that’s on his desk, leaving enough room to set down a few pieces of paper as you take a seat on the opposite side. 

As you scan through the papers, he attempts to make sober conversation. “You should…bring your car around for inspections if you want.”

“Oh? Even if I ask a million questions?”

“I can make an exception or two,” he grins. 

“And if you charge me double?”

“Might not charge you at all.”

“Might?” you question as you lift the pen he’d given you to sign the first space. 

“Might.”

“And what’re the conditions for that?” 

He doesn’t answer as he ponders and you fill in the second blank. “I’ll have to think about that.”

You snort before you can help it, your last signature coming out a little wonky as your hands shake. Turning the papers over to him, you continue, “Well then, let me know when you figure it out.”

He stares pointedly as he accepts the papers before dropping his eyes again, “Can I?”

“Hm?”

“Can I? Let you know?” 

It’s like you’ve been frozen over, the typewriter in your mind jamming as it punches out the implications of what he’s saying. 

“It seems, at least to me, that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he continues. 

You hesitate. “I think so too.”

“I…I don’t want to put anything like pressure on you but–” 

“Would you like to try the new gelato place downtown this week?” you ask finally as you save him from his misery. “If…you’d like.”

He looks stunned for a moment before he’s scrambling, “Oh–of course! Yes, anytime is fine with me.”

“Great,” you smile, lifting from your seat. “It’s a date.”

“I’ll promise to wash my hands this time…and my shirt. And I won’t be late.” 

“Let’s not make promises we can’t keep,” you tease. 

You’re nearing the door as he follows behind, and just as you’re about to pull down on the handle, you hear him say your name. 

Turning around, almost too eagerly, you look up at him in expectation. He’s close, almost right behind you as he looks like he’s debating whether opening his mouth is a good idea. 

“Are you doing anything else today?” 

“Um,” you stutter for a moment. “I don’t have to drop off the car till later tonight, that’s all really.”

He swallows. “Do you wanna stay? Just a little while. We can stay in here, nobody comes in anyway.”

You aren’t entirely sure why you said yes, because you did actually have dinner plans with Liv later tonight, but the teeny tiny voice in your mind egged you on anyway. Besides, Liv wouldn’t mind, not if you were cancelling for this.

This entailed the very friendly contact of Wonwoo’s tongue in your mouth, and the extremely cordial way it seemed to caress your insides. If somebody asked you how it led to this, you don’t think you’d have an answer. Not that you care, especially when his hands are grabbing your waist and hips like that.

He’s already locked the door, reassuring you that nobody would find their boss and client in the smack dab middle of the devil’s tango. You take his word for it, relishing in the way his hot breath hits your skin below your ears, his mouth sucking under your earlobes as you whimper ever so quietly. 

Your hands are on his exposed biceps, feeling him up all to your heart's content. “Do you–Do you always wear stuff like this?”

He emerges, wet lipped and eyes trained. “So I wasn’t imagining it.”

“Imagining what?” you ask as you let him unbuckle your trousers.

“Please. Like you weren’t stripping me with your eyes.”

If you were warm before you, you're boiling up now. Were you being so obvious?

“It’s alright,” he reassures as you feel his fingers make contact with the crotch of your panties, pushing in to put pressure on your clit. “Wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t picked up on it.”

You feel his fingers push the dampening fabric away as his fingers make contact with your hole, coating his fingers in the arousal that’s made itself known. It’s hard to not hiss at the way he begins to circle it, thanking the universe that the loud noises of the workshop outside were masking whatever evidence of the heinous crime you were committing inside. 

Back against the couch in his office, you settle into the cushions once you feel him rub at your clit, one hand spreading your lips apart as he continues to massage your own wetness onto your throbbing cunt. 

When he retreats you almost cry out, but are smothered when he plunges two fingers into your hole instead, curling them almost immediately inside you. The consistent brush of the tips of his fingers on your walls are making it difficult to keep your eyes open, and absolutely impossible to keep your moans at bay. 

“Wonwoo, that’s so good, fuck.”

Through your closed eyes, you don’t note when Wonwoo gets on his knees. But you do feel him yank your trousers off entirely, and you definitely feel him place his wet mouth flush on your lower lips, sucking at your clit as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you mercilessly. 

That’s all it takes for your noises to become increasingly high pitched, hands buried in his beautiful hair as he continues to pleasure you beyond imagination. 

“I’m so close, keep going, please, it feels so–”

He somehow buries his face in deeper, sucking harder, licking faster, and it’s enough for you to finally feel yourself collapsing on the inside, your composure dissolving as you moan so loud you’re sure they can hear it outside, even through all the clanging and revs of cars. 

There’s no way for you to know how long you lay there slumped against the couch cushions, but when you hear Wonwoo speak to you in your ear, you answer. 

“Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you say as you grab his face and pull his lips to yours, tasting the tang in his mouth from your arousal. “Do you have a condom?”

“I–fuck,” he thinks for a moment. “I don’t think I do.”

You try not to feel too disappointed, but you sigh into his mouth anyway. 

“Can I fuck your thighs?” you hear him ask, and you might have just orgasmed again, untouched. 

“Fuck, yes you can.” 

With a yelp, you feel yourself lifted off the couch as you wrap your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, letting him guide you to his desk. “Wonwoo!”

You hear a loud crash of the desk being stripped of all its inhabitants, and your back hitting the cool of the table top. 

Wonwoo unties the arms of his overalls around his waist, letting the legs pool to the floor before slipping his hard cock out of his boxers. 

You don’t see it as you feel him lock your knees together and lift both your calves to rest on one of his shoulders. But you do feel it as he pushes the head into the seam of your thighs, watching the indent as the pink of his dick appears before you through the skin of your thighs. 

Wonwoo’s face is contorted as he pulls back and pushes back through again, this time brushing against your still sensitive clit. You gasp at contact, and immediately feel him thrusting faster. 

“Wonwoo,” you grunt. “Lower.”

He obliges, pushing his dick lower so it can rub flush against your clit as he begins to roughen up his pace. 

You moan as you feel his free hand that isn’t holding your legs trail to the ends of your shirt, caressing over your stomach to pull it up and reveal your bra clad tits. He pushes his hands under the nearest cup and begins to grope you so wonderfully with his big, warm hands. Rolling the bud between his fingers, you can only grasp onto his wrists as a handheld to keep you down on earth. 

The desk beneath you is rattling with noise, the full drawers making themselves known as Wonwoo pounds into your thighs like he would die if he stopped, mouth coming in contact with whatever skin of your legs he could reach, his breath fanning the side of your knees. 

You’re close again, and you know he is too with the way his thrusts are beginning to grow sloppy. 

“There,” he pants. “Almost.”

You orgasm for the second time, the throb your clit beyond comprehension as the rough of his dick slides across your clit mercilessly. 

“Cum like this, Wonwoo please I need to see you cum.”

And he does, shooting the heft of his load to cover your already wet cunt and thighs, landing on your stomach as he continues to ride out his high between your legs. 

The back of your head hits the table as you take in gulps of air through the aftermath of it all. Wonwoo is putting his weight on the back of your thighs, holding onto the table for support. 

“Oh, Liv is never gonna let me live this down,” you pant, lolling your head to one side as you register him. 

He peers up at you through his hair, the stupid smirk on his face, “Do you care?”

You’re smiling a little too when you answer, “Not really.”

And then your legs are off his shoulders as he nestles between them instead, diving in to lift your head and kiss you. 

And you let him, although you wouldn’t really call it too much of a kiss—not when the both of you were smiling like idiots through the clash. 

[eternalsa2z]

Dear Diary

DAY 1

I don't know why I'm doing this. I found this hot pink journal in my room. The logo is a little silly but it'd be a shame to waste all the paper. So I guess I'll write down what I'm thinking.

DAY 3

Honestly this has been nicer than I expected. It feels good to get your thoughts down on paper. Then you don't have to think so hard about your troubles.

DAY 7

I noticed how negative I've been when journaling. So I decided to be more positive and try some new things. Dress nicer. Take care of my appearance more.

DAY 14

I went to the salon today. It was a strange impulse after writing down things I wanted to improve. Just a little trim...maybe some highlights. Something simple.

DAY 15

I went full blonde today. Light blonde. I should feel self-conscious but it feels...sooooo good!

DAY 28

Another salon day! Got a touch up with a cute pigtail hairstyle...and a bit more. The girls convince me try some filler and more than a 'lil makeup. It felt like a lot but they were sooooo excited. So I couldn't help being excited too!

DAY 40

Like, people are looking at me funny. Is it my clothing? They, like, don't fit as much any more. My boobies...I mean breasts...seem bigger. Butt seems rounder. Oh well! Time for a shopping spreeeeee!

DAY 47

Um, like, sorry for not writing more. I've been, like, sooooo forgetful of late. I do my makeup, squeeze on a cute outfit, then I totes forget anything else! Is that bad? 'Course not! It feels too good to be, like, empty headed

DAY 55

Cherry is having truble trouble thinking. Cherry can't, like, 'member lyfe life before writing in diary. Was Cherry, always blonde, busty, and unsofisycated unintellygant dumb? It's like Cherry's thot thoughts all gone once she writes. But at least, like, she's hawt! :)

DAY 69

Cherry iz, like, luving lyfe! Peepole call me, lyke, a dumbo bimbo...but Cherry soooo doesn't care! Cherry iz happy. Cherry iz cute. Cherry iz, like, no thinky any more since she start wryting in diary.

[soft-girl-musings]

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - CHAPTER 1 (Strangers In The Night)

Noir!Jake Lockley x WOC Lounge Singer!Reader

written in collaboration with + header by @mrs-lockley

chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5

cross-posted to ao3

tags: late 1940s Noir AU, Reader is WOC coded but with no physical description besides being slightly taller than Jake while wearing heels, no use of Y/N

wc: 2,222

fic summary: Of all the gin joints in all the world, Jake Lockley walks into yours. Unfortunately for him, it's not quite the start of a beautiful friendship.

A/N: can't believe this is the product of covid-induced hcs and thots between me and @mrs-lockley, thank you so much for encouraging this buddy (also @lunar-ghoulie if i had a nickel for each time you've sent an ask/dm about a WIP and it ended up being where i put all my energy, i'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot but it's hilarious that it's happened twice).

----------

On nights like tonight, Jake Lockley regrets his choice of profession.

It’s a dreary November evening, darkening by the second as the New York streets grow damp and cold. The wise had decided not to venture out; the blindsided rush across slick pavement to whatever shelter they can find. The desperate stay on the clock and curse their luck.

He should know by now that when a client says they’ll be “just a minute,” it’s a boldfaced lie: even if they have every intention of being efficient, he’s been stranded on the curb more times than he can count.

So he keeps the meter running. He’s seen the duds his regular client has on each week; the man could afford to fork over a few extra bucks. Might even build character.

The steady rhythm of the rain had been fine at first, but after half an hour parked beneath the neon sign of The Paper Moon– hat, coat and gloves doing nothing to ward off the chill creeping into his cab– every raindrop taunts him in his isolation.

To hell with this.

He shuts off the engine, pops his collar, and braces himself before stepping out onto the street. The rain falls fast and hard, so he rushes toward the brick exterior of The Paper Moon. He’s never been inside, but the glowing crescent of the sign had piqued his interest the first time he’d dropped his client here. He may as well see what all the fuss is about.

The doorman– a tall, dapperly dressed unit with a neutral grimace– casts a wary look his way. Jake ducks into the alley beside the building. Guess it’s exclusive.

Through the rain he spots a side door with a meagerly covered stoop, upon which is hunched a smaller, yet equally well-dressed figure. The young man’s tawny complexion pops against the emerald green of his just-too-big blazer, mist gathering in the dark brown waves slicked back from his creased brow. He grips a cigarette between clenched teeth, stuttering curses around it as he strikes a flimsy matchbook to no avail.

“¿Necesitas un fuego?”

At his offer, Jake is met by startled, impossibly wide brown eyes. The shock turns to glee as his face breaks into a toothy smile.

“Sí– sí sería genial, señor.” He makes room on the stoop, his dimpled cheeks betraying his youth. Jake pulls out a lighter and deftly lights the end of his cigarette, earning another dimpled grin after a few christening puffs. “Muchísimas gracias.” 

“No hay problema.” 

He lights one of his own, the smoke mixing with the fog of his breath as he holds out his free hand. “Jake.”

“Mauricio.” His newfound companion grips his hand and shakes vigorously. 

They sit in silence for a few moments, their subtle exhalations and the slowing rain the only sounds between them.

The mood is disrupted by shouting from the other side of the door, followed by clattering and the unmistakable sound of someone falling. The door behind them flies open and a lanky, dark skinned man in a matching green blazer pokes his head outside.

“You’d better get your tail in here, Maurie. She’s in one of her moods tonight.” 

“Rats, alright,” he groans, taking one last drag of his cigarette before stamping it out with his heel. Mauricio straightens his blazer and pushes a hand through his hair. He pauses at the door and looks back at Jake. 

“Do you wanna come inside, dry off for a spell? We put on a mean show,” he swears. The kid's face isn't one Jake imagines people say “no” to very often.

“...Yeah, alright. Thanks.”

“Great! There’s a couple of tables toward the back that should still be free, you can sneak in there no problem.” Mauricio holds the door open a bit wider for Jake to step through. “If anyone gives you any trouble, just tell ‘em you’re with me.” With a wink and another winning smile, he darts off to follow the other blazer.

Jake finds his spot easily enough, taking in the atmosphere as he weaves between tables and patrons. So this is The Paper Moon.

The building’s drab exterior is deceptive: inside is a small lounge, bustling with activity and humming with life. Richly draped walls envelop the space, with ornate lamps and soft candlelight radiating from every table. The room looks as warm as it feels, a welcome relief from Jake’s prior solitude. 

He takes off his soaked coat and loosens his tie. Across the room Jake sees his client– a cold, calculating Mr. Wesley– who gives a curt nod, as if granting his permission to take a load off (for now).

He orders a drink from a slightly bewildered waiter and continues to survey the space. People of all shapes and sizes occupy tables and barstools, with the chatter of at least three languages creating a dizzying buzz around him. The crowd dies down when stage lights flash on at the far end of the room.

Out marches the band: the guy who'd clambered to the back door sits at the piano, cracking his knuckles before playing a few notes on the keys; an older man with a similar complexion props an upright bass in position, riffing along with the scattered piano melody; an impressively mustachioed fellow polishes the mouthpiece of his trumpet; Mauricio settles in behind a set of drums, waving a stick in the air when he spots Jake.

As warm as he's gotten after coming inside, the temperature seems to skyrocket as the click of heels and the shimmer of the last band member crossing the stage sends his heartbeat right into his throat. In walks– no, floats – a vision, evening gown the same color as the richly painted lips that curl into a smile as easily as breathing. Something Jake seems to have forgotten how to do.

He can’t take his eyes off you.

----------

There’s something in the air tonight.

Maybe it’s the smoke lingering on Mauricio’s jacket (you’ve told him time and time again how smoking before a show irritates you; he must have snuck a pack backstage), or maybe the weather has you out of sorts. Whatever it is, you’re one false step away from losing your cool. Which, of course, cannot happen. Not onstage.

As the band warms up, you take one last look in your compact mirror, blot your lipstick, and take a deep breath. It’s showtime.

The moment you step onstage, you turn on the charm. Nothing can touch you up here. Not when there’s music to play, a band to lead. A night to make unforgettable.

You approach the microphone and smile. “Hello again, darlings. Did you miss us while we were away?”

Applause and cheers echo back to you from the audience. There’s a distinct two-toned whistle that rises above the noise, but you don’t think anything of it.

Not until you scan the crowd and see something– someone – that doesn’t belong.

Lounging at the previously unoccupied back table is a man you’ve never seen before. Which wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t know the face and name of everyone who enters your club.

His eyes stay trained on you as you nod to the band to begin. One outlier a bad night will not make– you’ll deal with him later. For now, you let the caress of the opening notes ease the new tension in your body, and you start to sing.

With six shows a week, one would think the routine would become tedious. Quite the opposite: any night you play the same standards with the band is bound to be a good night. The chemistry between you and your boys is perfect– even on an off night like tonight, you still manage to follow each other and make the same hour of music sound brand new.

You lead one song, then another, completely in your own world. Of course, the constant cheers and occasional audience participation don’t hurt. But just when you hit your stride and forget your troubles, that whistle rings out above the noise.

The stranger's on the edge of his seat, rapt attention never leaving the stage. Seems innocent enough, but you’re still on high alert.

The set comes to a close, ending with a vibrant flourish. The band improvises a steady beat as you take a sip of water, then smile once more into the microphone.

“Oh, stop. Really…. well, alright, you can keep going,” you croon at the crowd as they cheer louder. 

You gesture to the band. “Let’s give a big round of applause to The Jays, what do you say?”

“On piano we have the dazzling Jackie Thomas,” you call out as he trills a fancy melody a little louder than the rest. “Followed by this absolute Adonis on the bass, Benny Hayes,” you add as the smooth licks of his instrument sound out a reply.

“Let’s hear it for Leo Castellón and his magnificent mustache on the trumpet,” you tease as he blasts out a tune. “And our baby bird on drums, Mauricio Farrés!” You raise your voice as the youth bangs out a closing rhythm. 

“And as always, I’m Ms. Songbird. We hope you’ll join us again soon, my doves. Goodnight!”

The band plays themselves out as you descend downstage to the front of the room. Time for the next act.

You know how to work a crowd both on and offstage; hospitality is as much a part of the gig as the music. Tonight’s a full house, but you take your time gliding past each table, front to back. Does everyone have their preferred drink? How’s the food? Was the music to their liking? All questions you ask with genuine interest, but you know the answer: everything is perfect.

"Hey, little songbird," a voice calls above the noise.

Everything except him.

You've been avoiding the back table for a while, trying to collect your thoughts before confronting him. No time like the present, I suppose.  

You turn to see the outlier standing by the table he’d commandeered, a shimmering bundle of rhinestones dangling from his hand. The glint of a grin catches the low light the same way your traitorous earring does.

You touch your ear and your face grows hot. “Where did you–”

“Fell off as you floated by the last few tables, angel.” 

Your heels tap out a warning as you approach. Toe-to-toe, with the added height of your shoes, you practically tower over him. Your brow furrows as you size him up: too forward to have something to hide, too laissez-faire to be up to any obvious trouble. All the same, you don't trust him.

You look him up and down; he does the same. "You're not very tall, are you?" More of a challenge than a question as you reach for the rhinestones in his hand.

Leaning back against the table, jewelry dangling just out of reach, his sly smile grows. "Well, miss, I tried to be."

"Right." You snatch the earring back before he says anything else. "I see you also tried to be discreet, and that didn't go so well for you, did it Chuck?"

"Actually, it's–"

“–club policy to check your coat at the door. Something our hostess would have insisted upon, meaning you– ” you emphasize as you lean in, fingertips pressed to the tabletop by his side, "–slipped in under the wire." You search his face for anything to betray his intentions. "Now how did you manage that?”

The stranger lowers himself into his seat, hands raised in surrender. "A little backstage access, courtesy of your drummer there." He nods toward the stage: you catch a glimpse of Mauricio clumsily ducking back behind the curtain. You'll scold him later.

His gaze shifts across the room. “See that fella over there– the one who looks like it'd kill him to smile? I’m just waiting to drive him home, like I do every week.” He grins again, that same look in his eyes. A look that sets you on edge. “Just a humble cab driver, miss– nothing up my sleeves.” 

“Didn't know cabbies could be so exclusive,” you say, still eyeing him. James Wesley has been a regular for a few weeks, but you've never met his driver.

“With what he tips? Doll, I'd do damn near anything he asked.” The stranger chuckles, sipping his drink.

You know what he means: the wait staff has noted a major uptick in gratuities since Mr. Wesley has started frequenting the lounge. 

“Very well,” you offer stiffly. It all checks out, but you get the feeling there's something he's not telling you. “I hope everything is to your liking.” 

You turn to leave, but he takes your hand before you can go far.

“Oh believe me, it is… Ms. Songbird. ” A wink and a smile play on his lips as he swiftly presses them to your knuckles, letting go just as fast. You storm away before giving the satisfaction of showing how flustered you are. 

“Mr. Manalo,” you beckon a waiter as he passes. He stands at attention. You gesture to the table you’d just left, not bothering to look and see if his eyes are still on you.

“Watch out for this one, will you? I get the feeling he isn’t just here for the music.”

----------

A/N: !!!! every story i write becomes my new favorite, but Noir!Jake has carved a pretty special spot in my heart this autumn. so excited to share more of him with y'all!

as always, thank you for reading :)

addtl tag list: @fandxmslxt69 @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

[strawberrystepmom]

pairing: incubus!grimmjow jaegerjacquez x f!reader

word count: 3.8k

about: the ravenous desire of your roommate never seems to abate despite the late nights he spends outside of the comfort of your apartment. when he approaches you, the truth comes out. can you fulfill the appetite of an incubus?

contents: nsfw - mdni. cw dark content - dubcon, somnophilia. brief mention of masturbation (f), unprotected penetrative sex (piv), light degradation (slut/slutty), creampie, possessiveness. reader is only partially awake/aware through the fic and assumes she's dreaming.

notes: part of thot-o-ween 2023! yall ever wanted to fuck a cat boy demon before bc i know i have and here he is in all his weirdo glory. what i love about doing this is that it rly forces me out of my element (writing more smut bc historically i haven't enjoyed writing it all that much) and exploring new/darker concepts i haven't always felt like i have the ability to write.

hopefully this is something everyone can enjoy! thank you for reading ♡

Since you signed your lease nine months ago, you’ve always had a standing agreement with your strange roommate Grimmjow.

“If you need anything, just knock on my door and I’ll be there.”

You aren’t sure why you felt compelled to offer your time or support to the man in the first place - perhaps it was your too tender heart taking one roving glance over him and realizing that he simply looked like he needed someone. Eyes like a predator, narrowed and a sharp, angular frame in an oversized t-shirt. You met him through an online post looking for a roommate and desperation, and the end of your relationship, gave you no option but to accept. The situation appeared too fortuitously for you to turn it down.

The past nine months have gone as swimmingly as one could expect living with a stranger would, though. 

He comes and goes without much fuss but if you are honest with yourself - you find some of his habits strange. You try not to think too hard about them, after all you’re just his roommate and he owes you no explanation, but there are times where you wonder why he skulks late at night. When he comes home after these late night adventures, you always notice him looking rested the next day and it has never made sense to you. The dark circles under his eyes seem to magically abate and his posture fixes itself, walking tall and strong across the scuffed wooden floors the two of you share.

Aside from this, though - he pays his half of the rent on time, he manages to clean up after himself as well as you can expect, and he asks you no questions about who you are or what you’re doing with your life.

Until tonight, strangely enough.

“What are you gettin’ up to tonight?” 

Grimmjow’s voice is a growl more so than anything else, as long as you’ve known him it has been this way, but it sounds different. Lower, perhaps. You tip your head to the side and offer a half smile, shrugging and letting the collar of your oversized t-shirt fall off of your shoulder enough to expose the flesh beneath it.

“Weather’s supposed to be shitty so I’m staying in. Same as usual.” 

He hums his answer, stretching his legs to place his feet on the table across from the couch where you both sit. You take a moment to look over him - blue eyes and hair to match. You’ve never asked him if the hair color is natural, assuming the opposite is true, but you have never seen a hint of dark brown or blonde growing out of his head. 

In fact, there’s a lot of things you’ve never seen him do but you’ve always just assumed he does them at night while he’s out but you try too hard not to think about it. The two of you have a no questions asked policy, at least silently you’ve agreed to one but you bite further, breaking your own internal code to pry for details.

“How about you?”

Shifting where he sits, he puts his arms up over his head and readjusts his legs, one foot resting on top of the other. You watch his shift in posture, eyes trailing up long legs and admiring the way his bicep bulges with the angle his arm is bent at. It’s strange but you’ve never taken the time to really look at your roommate in all these months but now that you are.

He’s pretty hot. 

You look away quickly, hoping you weren’t caught in the act of boundary bouncing, placing your hands in your lap primly and he smirks, settling into the couch behind him with a few wiggles of his shoulders. He takes his turn looking at you, a smile you’re trying to hide and hair still damp after getting out of the shower, and he wonders how you haven’t caught onto him yet. This isn’t the first time he has eyed you with those blazing, partially sunken eyes but you feel the intensity of it this time and tuck your shoulders forward to hide the embarrassment of being seen.

“Might stick around,” he sniffs and wrinkles his nose. “Feelin’ kinda hungry though.”

Instantly, you beam. Perhaps this could be a good way for the two of you to actually get to know each other since you have never really shared a meal with the man outside of shitty pizza on the nights you’ve stayed up late enough to greet him before he leaves and doesn’t return until sunrise. 

“I can make us some dinner if you wanna stick around? If not, I get it, it’s not supposed to get super bad out until later.”

What you don’t realize is that the hunger he’s speaking of is something very different than what can be sated by what you’re offering. Despite this, for a brief moment, he considers it and you watch him do so. He licks his bottom lip, pink tongue darting out and takes one of his hands off of the back of his head  to rub his thumb in the wet trail left behind by the motion.

“Nah, I gotta do a couple things.”

Heat you’ve never felt before crawls up the back of your neck and you look away again. You’re flustered, the effortless eroticism of whatever just happened making your skin feel itchy, and he chuckles. 

What could possibly be so funny? 

You think of the question but don’t say it aloud, almost embarrassed at his reaction to you. Did you misread his suggestion? Did you just make the next three months of your lease unbearably awkward? 

Grimmjow takes his feet off the table and places them on the ground, leaning forward and your gaze falls on the forward bend of his spine and the way the overgrown hair at the nape of his neck curls slightly. 

Why are your eyes so drawn to him today? It feels as though it takes all of your self control just to look away but you manage to, cheeks warm and hairline dappled with sweat. This feeling is strange in a way that you lack the words to explain and you keep your eyes trained on the ground even as he stands up and stretches, his shirt exposing the bottom of his abdomen.

“I’ll take you up on your offer another night, though.”

Flicking your eyes upward, you catch the sliver of tanned skin just above his waistline and another rash of heat crawls across your face. Your mouth is dry and you nod, lifting your face enough to give him an uncertain and forced smile.

“You alright?” Again, you nod. It’s all you can do right now until you have a sip of water or get some air or…something. He smirks and gives you a sidelong glance as he heads toward the door.

“Get some fresh air, it might make you feel better.”

Your face heats further knowing that he can tell what’s happening to you but he makes no other comment. The sound of him slipping on his jacket and boots fills the otherwise quiet apartment and he opens the door hoping he can find something to sate this appetite before he comes home and makes it your problem.

Judging by how you reacted to him tonight, though, you may not be all that upset if he does make it your problem but that’s a boundary to be tested another time.

“Fuck,” you whimper with your lip tucked between your teeth, the squelching of your fingers working in and out of your own sopping cunt filling your bedroom interspersed with whines and moans both from you and the little video on your phone.

The moment Grimm left, the heat became unbearable. You thought about taking your shorts off right on the couch and letting your fingers explore but held yourself back, instead taking a few minutes to walk around, have something to drink, to see if the need started to feel less intense.

After several minutes of intense pacing, you decided to take care of the issue yourself. Sure, it’s perverted and wrong to feel this turned on simply by taking a good hard look at your damn near otherworldly roommate but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him and after this you’ll go back to keeping your distance.

Letting your fingers dip further inside of you, you gasp, mouth forming the first letter of his name. Immediately you freeze, shocked that you’d be so brazen despite the apartment being empty, and you shut your eyes tightly and silently work yourself toward orgasm with someone else’s pleas for more playing through the speaker on your phone. 

A little whimper is all you manage, walls clenching around your digits. It isn’t the best you’ve ever had but it isn’t the worst either and it seems like enough for now to help your racing heartbeat calm down to something more manageable. Withdrawing your fingers with a deep breath, filling your lungs completely before emptying them in the same fashion by exhaling, you roll over onto your side, locking and tossing your phone on the bedside table. 

What the fuck just happened? What the fuck has this entire evening been?

Chuckling at the absurdity of the past few hours, you reach around blindly for something to wipe your sticky hand on and settle on the t-shirt you discarded earlier. You know you need to get up but you feel pleasantly dazed instead, wiping your fingers and keeping your heavy eyes shut. 

Free from embarrassment and far less wound up, you start to doze. The room is cool and the fall storm the news warned you about blows outside, the gentle sound of thunder lulling you into an unexpected but much needed rest. 

You don’t know how much time has passed when you hear a knock, knock, knock at your cracked bedroom door.

Eyes fluttering open just enough to see Grimmjow standing in the doorway, you shut and open them just to make sure you’re really seeing what you’re seeing. It’s too dark to make out all of him but your blurry eyes scan his face, noticing his cheeks look almost hollow and the same deep dark circles beneath his eyes before he left tonight look darker and heavier. 

“Grimm?” You ask and his response is a low growl, footsteps echoing through your quiet room as he pads toward the edge of your bed. “Are you okay?”

He stalks like a predator across the floor, making methodical and swift footfalls at the foot of your bed. You sit up, forgetting that you fell asleep completely nude, and his pacing stops when his eyes settle on your exposed breasts, your blanket bunched beneath them.

“I’m hungry,” he repeats just as he did earlier and you are too tired to figure out what he means. Giggling, you still haven’t noticed the way he eyes you hungrily, stiffened nipples grabbing his attention and keeping it. 

“Couldn’t find anything good to eat while you were out?”

Your words are a jumble, something that would make sense to no one else but the man who has lived with you for 9 months who has figured out your morning sleepy voice and the way it all blurs together. He approaches the edge of your bed and sits down, watching you lay back down and settle against your comforter.

“Nothing sounded good,” he admits, flipping around and crawling on all fours up the bed. You’re so sweet and disarmed, rain pattering on the windowpane while your chest rises and falls and your eyes fight to stay shut. “Definitely not as good as what’s at home.”

You giggle again, eyes closed so you don’t notice the way the distance between the two of you closes further. His body is large but lithe and each movement sends him closer and closer to you until he catches the scent of something familiar.

Arousal. 

He grins, feral and large, crawling the extra few inches to fully envelop you. Caging you in with his arms, your eyes open and see his face inches from yours, his bare chest almost pressing against your own.

“What are you doing?”

The question doesn’t seem alerted or concerned, just curious, and sleepy you reaches out to brush your fingers down the defined bicep holding him up. He chuckles and the sound makes the same heat you felt hours ago crawl up your neck and that’s the moment you realize something is different about him. Your hackles raise slightly and you sit up but he pushes you back down gently, hand splayed between your breasts.

“You said I could come to you for anything I needed, right?”

Despite the fact his hand feels so hot it could burn a hole straight through your body, you nod. You offered yourself months ago and he had yet to take advantage of your kindness. Leaning down, he watches your eyes fully open and presses his forehead to yours.

“I need you,” he mutters and your eyes meet his. A storm of blue, a flurry of something you have never seen before. He groans, almost looking pained and you gasp and hold onto his bicep. You can put two and two together, intelligent and alert enough to manage that much, and your hand slides over where his palm rests on your chest. 

“Like this?” You ask, sliding his hand from the space between your breasts to cupping one of them and he nearly growls feeling your skin beneath his fingers. His thumb dances over your hardened nipple and you gasp, shivering beneath him.

“Bet you never thought you’d end up with somethin’ like me in your apartment,” he taunts, hand tracing down your body, mapping out your stomach and hips. You don’t think much of his words, lost to the sensation of being touched and the heat incinerating all rational thought inside of you, but one word catches your interest and you repeat it.

“Don’t you mean someone?”

Another chuckle shakes his body, his fingers caressing your thigh. He shakes his head where it’s pressed against yours and you can only watch when he licks his lips again just as he did earlier, the motion making your head spin.

“Nah, I’m a somethin’.”

With this, he wants to stop further questioning and he leans in to kiss you. By this point your mind should be catching up, alert and awake, but you aren’t convinced this isn’t some kind of strange horny dream you managed to conjure up so you kiss him back eagerly. The wet sound of lips smacking together in a frenzy fills the room, tongues sliding against one another and you even yelp when he nips at your lower lip, sucking the fullness of it into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he groans, hand that was tracing across your thighs now pushing them open. He paws at your still slick pussy, a thick finger slipping between your lips with little resistance. He revels in the feeling of your hot arousal, smearing it around your hole and rubbing little circles around your clit rather than on it that make you whimper.

“Grimm,” you pant and he only chuckles, a second digit joining the first in spreading your wetness. The pressure of the two fingers makes your hips buck, desperate for more.

“You've been having fun without me? Sure feels like it.”

Puzzled, you wonder what he means until you realize that he can insert a finger inside of you without any resistance, still worked open from your previous attempts to get yourself off. Walls clenching around the single digit, he groans into your ear. Your warmth feels luxurious, like silk. It’s more than he could have ever hoped for.

“I don’t mind,” he continues massaging your walls with his finger in the way only an expert can. You surely must be dreaming, none of your other partners have ever been this skilled with just their fingers, and you let yourself have this moment. What’s the worst that could happen? “Gettin’ this eager little pussy all ready for me is almost too nice of you.”

The words are filthy and they make you whine, hips bucking against his hand and where it rests over the top of your pelvis. You’re greedy, desperate for more. He could do just about anything to you right now and you know that you’d let him, drooling pussy leaking down his finger.

“You want more? Tired of feelin’ so empty?”

The slow rolls of your hips tell him all he needs to know and he uses his free hand to slip out of the sweatpants he wore into your bedroom, cock already hard and leaving a wet spot on the front of them. He rolls his eyes, tossing them aside as fluidly as he can while still keeping you full of his fingers.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna give you what we both need. Gonna fill this fuckin’ slutty pussy up, give you what you were almost beggin’ me for earlier.”

Ah yes, that. Even dream you can’t escape the embarrassment of his effect on you in the living room but you let the feeling go, instead focusing on how good it feels every time the pad of his finger brushes against the spot deepest inside of you that your own fingers could never reach. 

“I want it,” you admit aloud. He smirks, finger withdrawing from you and making you whine. Your body feels as hot as it did hours ago and twice as wound up, clit throbbing from lack of attention. Blood pulses in your ears and you look up, witnessing the way he’s coating his shaft in his own precum with a gasp.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna fill you up just like you need,” he coos, it’s so condescending but you hardly notice, too busy reveling in the way it feels when the fat head of his cock brushes through your folds. You don’t have to think about anything right now and you embrace the feeling, allowing him control. 

What he doesn’t mention is that he needs it even more than you do, the maw inside of him demanding that he slip inside of you just like he is now.

He shudders, body tensing as he sheaths himself inside of you in one sharp movement, your breath catching in your throat when his balls slap against your ass. He’s so impossibly deep and despite how wet and opened up you are, your cunt stretches deliciously to accommodate his girth. 

Again, this has to be a dream. Nothing in real life could ever feel this good and your toes curl, spread legs shifting to link at the ankles and wrap around his waist. You feel the firmness of his ass against your calves as he grinds into you, the gentleness ending as quickly as it started when he draws his hips back completely and thrusts back inside of you in one swift motion.

Your back arches off of the bed and he drinks in the sight of you, flashes of lightning outside allowing enough light to leak in to give him a good look at everything he has been vying to see. The knot inside of him slowly starts to untangle, his furious pace making your body bounce up the bed and he wonders why he waited this long to just give in.

Perhaps he’s losing his touch after years. He could’ve just snuck in and taken you any evening he wanted to, you wouldn’t be the first he’d done it to given his nearly unquenchable thirst, but he wanted you to want it too. To want him. To give yourself to him.

He chuckles like a wild man, leaning over your body and kissing you again while holding your hips in place to fuck you wildly.

“Takin’ me so well I might have to make you all mine,” he offers and you moan, clenching around him. So you liked that, he takes a note. You like being wanted, you like being taken. He knew it from the moment he saw you but he always loves it when a gut feeling is confirmed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Lettin’ an incubus use your pussy whenever he wants like a slut, right?”

Your eyes widen at the word. Incubus - you recall reading some asinine online story about a woman who swore she’d been fucked by one years ago but again, this is your weird dream about your abnormally hot roommate so you don’t question it. 

“Yeah, I love it Grimm,” you whisper against his mouth, tongue too heavy to say much else. You’ve never felt like this before, body singing and silky walls clinging to his cock, and you’re ready to let yourself start the endless freefall of pleasure, eyes shutting tightly while he grunts above you.

“That’s right, I can feel it. You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?”

Keeping your eyes screwed shut, you only nod and he lets you grind against his pelvis, clit brushing the dusting of blue hair at the base of his cock. It’s soft and silky and it’s just what you need, friction spurring you further into bliss as you cum with a shout, eyes shooting open.

This isn’t a dream, you realize suddenly, feeling Grimm’s cock drilling in and out of you at a breakneck pace. You are in your bed, thunder rolling outside, your phone on the bedside table, your body bouncing with every thrust. Your blue haired roommate hovers just above you, face twisted in pleasure while glancing down at where the two of you are joined, the slick sound of your pussy bringing you to reality.

This is really happening and honestly, you just..let it. 

Reaching for Grimmjow, you card your fingers through his hair, and he lets his eyes flutter closed. Your fingers dance through the same short hair at the nape of his neck you were admiring hours earlier and he grunts, hips stilling. Using both hands to hold you in place, he fills your eager cunt full of his creamy release and you moan along with him.

Unceremoniously, he slumps forward and your chests touch. You giggle and kiss his forehead, looking down to see him looking far better than he did when he entered your room. His eyes don’t gleam dangerously anymore and the dark circles seem to have sorted themselves out, his face resting on the top of your breast.

“Hey Grimm?”

He looks up, surprised you’re alert enough to even let that much come out of your mouth. 

“Everything you said…”

You don’t have to elaborate further, he’s aware of what you’re asking. Is it true? Did he admit what he really is, what the source of his appetite is?

“Yup.”

You don’t ask for further explanation and he doesn’t plan on giving it, content to let you run your fingers through his hair as the storm rages outside.

[gummydummy19]

Hi Gummy😌❤️

since we're talking about kinktober...

How about Sherlock(Henry version) and semi-public sex (or something like voyeurism?)

I'm imagining Sherlock and reader (friends or lovers) are on a case when they are close to being discovered their true identities when Sherlock suggested that they could "make love" to fool the guards in (let's say) this brothel.

they could be faking it (till the vibe becomes too strong) or they are truly in love so they went at it anyway😋

Feel free to change or add to my lil thot😌❤️

OH GOODIE!! I love getting requests and I love love LOVE this idea!

Kinktober day 1: semi-public (Sherlock Holmes x F reader)

Moan

A/N: I must admit I don't really like voyeurism but I really loved the request so I hope I still did it justice <3

Content Warnings: smut, friends to lovers, "let them hear" trope, banter, giggles, fluff, swearing

You didn't have any family. The girls at the factory were your sisters, you all knew each other through and through. So when your friend Rosaly went missing, you knew she counted on you to discover the truth.

The entire country knew of Sherlock Holmes and his incredible detective skills. According to the papers, there wasn't a case he couldn't solve. So you scraped together nearly all your savings and traveled across the country to see him. Sadly, when you arrived at his office on a chilly autumn afternoon you were disappointed to find it empty. With nowhere else to go, you decided to wait it out.

Sherlock Holmes had always been quite the gentleman... and a handsome one at that. He arrived at his office somewhere in the afternoon. He wasn't usually this late, but he was stuck on a case and had indulged himself in one too many drinks the night before, leaving his body tired and his head hurting. However, his headache was quickly forgotten when he noticed a shivering young woman on his office's doorstep.

"Excuse me miss, can I help you?" he asked politely.

"O-oh...I'm s-so sorry...I'm...I n-need..." you shivered

Sherlock took off his big, long coat, wrapping it over your shoulders as he helped you up. "Hush now, little one. Let's get you inside first, shall we?"

Once inside he quickly lit a fire and offered you a hot cup of tea while you told him everything. He agreed to take up the case and after enduring a lot of your begging he agreed to let you join him too.

And thus your adventure with Sherlock began. He offered you the sofa in his office to sleep on and you kept the space tidy and clean for him in return. Surprisingly he found you worked quite well together. You were fearless and smart and on top of that, the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

After nearly two weeks of working together, you were finally close to finding out where Rosaly was, through clues that she had left for you.

The puzzle pieces were finally falling together, all you needed was one more piece of information, and according to your last clue, this was where it was supposed to be.

"A brothel?!" You observed as you looked up at the tall building.

There were pink and red lights flowing through the half-closed windows you didn't dare to stare at for too long.

"This is the only address I can find according to those numbers. It has to be here." Sherlock stated.

You took a deep breath. Time to put on your big girl pants.

"Alright. Let's go then," you said, already starting to marsh forward

"Hold on there, little one." he pulled you back by your hips, "You are not coming in there with me."

"What would you have me do then? Stand out here in the dark all by myself?"

You had a good point.

"Fine, but you will do as I say. Understood?"

You rolled your eyes but agreed anyway, joining him as he made his way through the door.

"I need a room," he stated firmly.

"Mister Holmes! Of course!" The lady greeted him with a smile, "I'm sure you don't need an empty room, right?" She joked, "Shall I send up Elisabeth-"

"That won't be necessary." He interrupted quickly. You were sure he was hoping you hadn't caught that, but unfortunately, there was already a jealous twinge spreading in your stomach.

"I brought my own. Just the room will do," he added and then the lady looked you up and down, making a heat surge up your cheeks.

"Sure thing," she replied, looking through her keys, "Only the best for the country's best detective."

She shot you both a wink as she handed him the key and Sherlock quickly took your hand and led you upstairs.

"Go to the room and lock it. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"What are you gonna do?" you asked, a bit worried

"I'll be right back." He repeated before closing the door behind him.

You did as he asked and locked it before silently taking a seat on the bed.

You looked around the room as you nervously toyed with your fingers. The sheets were soft and fluffy. You couldn't help but wonder which secrets they held. Which forbidden sights they had-

*knock knock knock*

You startled for a second until you heard his voice say "Open up..."

You rushed to the door and quickly let him in, locking it again behind him.

"I know where she is."

"What?" you asked, your brain still foggy for everything that was going on

"Rosaly. I know where she is. I know where to find her. We can be with her first thing tomorrow." he spoke again

"I..." You didn't know what to say, so you just did what felt right. You lunged forward and hugged him, whispering a couple "thank you's" as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He was about to say something when a loud knock startled you yet again.

"Everything okay in there?" a male voice yelled.

You looked at him in panic. They must have seen him wander around the place.

"Moan." He said

"W-what?"

"Moan," he repeated

"W-wha...like...like we're m-making love?"

"No, little one" he grinned, "like we're fucking."

You didn't have time to think as Sherlock Swirled you around and pushed you against the wall with a loud thud.

"Moan, NOW!" he growled.

"Ah!" you moaned, earning a grunt from him in response.

"Do it again, louder," he whispered.

"OH!" you moaned again, louder, just like he asked.

"There you go," he praised, "good girl." There was a grin plastered on his face that made you blush.

Two can play this game, you thought.

You pushed him backward making him fall on the bed, earning another loud groan from him as you crawled on his lap.

"Oh, Sherlock!" You moaned passionately, as your eyes fell shut and your hands found his chest "OH yes YES." you couldn't help but giggle at your own theatrics, making your body bounce a little.

You weren't paying enough attention to his face to notice that the grin had melted away the second you straddled him.

"Oh yeah right THERE, please!!!" you tried to contain your laughter when suddenly Sherlock flipped the both of you over making you gasp.

"YEAH? Feels that good?" his voice was lower now and you could feel his bulge press right between your thighs.

Suddenly...it wasn't so funny anymore.

"Cat got your tongue?" He whispered, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

"I...I don't...I didn't..."

"Is it me that turned you into a stuttering mess or the fact that you're moaning for an audience?" He teased, pressing kisses down your neck to the swells of your breasts, currently threatening to spill out of your dress as your chest heaved underneath him.

"Sh-Sherlock..." you moaned, in earnest this time.

"Shush Sherlock? Do you wish to silence me, little one?" he grinned devilishly as his hands wandered under your dress, caressing your thighs.

"Oh....please..." you whimpered

"Now now, little one, I know you can be louder than that." he chuckled, fingers toying with your undergarments.

"I n-need..."

"Need what? Huh?" he ripped the fabrics in his way until he finally found what he was looking for. "Ah yes, needy you are indeed, as I have never felt a pussy quite as wet as this one..." he teased

"Come on, little one, tell me what you need."

"you..."

"louder..." he whispered lowly in your ear, teeth grazing the shell of it as he left little nibbles all over.

"you...YOU!"

"That's it!" he groaned as he lowered his pants, teasing your wet opening with the sticky tip of his cock.

"Tell them who's making you feel this good!"

"S-stop..."

"Want me to stop?" he smirked, knowing full well your sentence wasn't finished

'N-no! No, please just...AH FUCK!" you screamed as he entered you bare.

"There you go! Scream like the wanton little harlot you are!"

You didn't know if those words were meant just for you or for the men outside but in the moment you didn't care, as it made you squeeze his hard cock even harder.

"Sherlock! Please...please..." You didn't know what you were begging for, seeing as he was already seethed deep inside you, but somehow begging was all you could.

"Stop teasing..." you managed to get out. He loved how sweet and helpless you looked under him. How you managed to look so kind and innocent while he was balls deep inside you remained a mystery to him. Oh sweetheart..., he thought to himself

"....feels so fucking good..." he groaned, dropping down closer to you as he started to gently pump himself in and out of you.

"O-oh..." you moaned, tangling your fingers in his dark curls.

His hand hadn't left your face, while his other hand went on a mission to find the place where you were currently connected, somewhere between all those layers of fabric.

He tilted his hips, angling them to hit a spot inside you that made your eyes flutter, yet when his fingers finally reached their destination they shot open again.

"SHERLOCK!"

"That's right, princess. Let them know who's fucking you this good!"

He continued to pound into you, but despite his rough words, his actions were surprisingly gentle.

"M'gonna...gonna..." you keened, feeling yourself climb higher and higher.

"What do you need, little one?" he groaned, clearly getting very close to the edge as well.

"Little harder...just a little..." you whined, quietly.

Sherlock obeyed, gently building up his thrusts until he was smacking into your pussy perfectly.

"That's right! Need it harder, huh?" he yelled out loudly again.

"YES YES HARDER" you played along before whispering "Kiss me, please..." Making not only his cock but also his heart swell.

He immediately pressed his lips down onto yours, swallowing your moans while his fingers kept strumming your sensitive pearl.

You came hard around his cock and kept pounding into your clenching pussy perfectly. Your left hand pulled at his hair while your other hand clawed at his back so hard his shirt ripped a little.

Your orgasm triggered his, and he let out a loud groan as he shuttered above you while spilling his hot seed deep inside your womb.

You both lay there, a little out of breath. Sherlock had his head buried in the crook of your neck, where started pressing gentle kisses while you played with his hair and traced invisible lines on his back.

That night you and Sherlock stumbled down the stairs of that brothel equally rosy-cheeked. You in your ripped-up dress, he in his torn shirt. You walked out hand in hand, two dozen pairs of eyes burning holes in the back of your skulls, but neither of you cared, for the passion glowing hot in your chests would outburn them all.

A/N: IM SORRY IF THIS WAS SHIT IM ON MY PERIOD AND IM JUST A BIG SAP IM SORRY I APOLOGIZE IM JUST A GIRL YOUR HONOR.

taglist;

@metalbuckaroo

@princessayveke

@montsepliego

@scxrletrecsmarvel

@hopelesslyrogers

@eclecticpatrolroadlawyer

@tfandtws

@vicmc624

@ahahafudge

@enchantedbarnes

@wickedravyn

@pono-pura-vida

@amayaraestyles

@matchat3a

@fictional-hooman

@sebastianexplicit

@peaches1958

@avengersfan25

@jamneuromain

@tryingtoliveonmywishes

@mrsevans90

@daybreak96

@tiredqueen73

@fallingforunrealisticromance

@identity2212

@randomweirdoss

@ragamuffin285

@juliaorpll78

@geralts-yenn

@imjusthereforliam

@bangtanstoeart

@squeezyvalkyrie

@enchantedbytomandhenry

@superduckmilkshake

@kingliam2019

@bascmve01

@missgaygurl

@foxyjwls007

[planetdream]

Types of mafia bosses/position in the gang for skz? I've got the brain rot for this lately I blame the pics of them in suits and shit; I just imagine loads of tattoos too and yep I may do this to myself. But anyways, thoughts? Or thots?

can't wait to find out who of them is the first to get a real tattoo 😻😻 i will go batshit fr but i do love me some good organized crime (goodfellas is one of my favorite movies of all time, and ive written scarface fanfic, been thinking about watching the sopranos) also so so so sorry bc this was sent in may and clearly I took my sweet time answering this 🥺

cw; organized crime (i just love saying that) (non desc.) violence n drugs n sex 😻😻

let me preface this by saying, bear with me, because although i gave this a lot of thought, it lowkey reads like a random cluster thoughts lmao. anyway, i came to the conclusion that if i ever were to potentially expand on this concept more 👀👀👀 that in my head, the boys are split into two crime families, with chan and minho being the two bosses. think of their dorm arrangements (3racha/hyune + minho and the minhoettes; if those are still their arrangements ? lol). i would also say the two families are on fairly decent terms.

chan, or should I say, chris, is the stereotypical mob boss who chooses to shield his lover from the violence and drug side of his work—but has no issue showering them with the drug and violence money. if you haven't seen goodfellas, there's a scene where karen asks henry for money to go shopping before he leaves, and he gives her half of this thick stack of cash before she drops to her knees and well... yeah. not sure why, but it gives channie vibes, imo. like he hates to be pulled away from his work, but if his baby needs him for a few minutes, even an hour or two, it isn't a problem.

i'd say as a mob boss, he's one that lurks in the shadows—he likes to protect his peace, to an extent. he'll pop out and show his face every once in a while to remind others of his territory. he's always going to get his lick back, but he plays things strategically as he's not someone who makes brash decisions; it might not happen now, but it will happen. he also tries to give back to his community and those who raised him within his neighborhood, etc. he's all about strong family bonds and despite him being feared; despite all the blood and threats, the violence and damage; he craves to be loved.

changbin, strikes me as someone who is eternally faithful to the family. maybe..even to a fault (if this were a scorsese film, i feel he'd be one of the last to be murdered; and it probably happens off screen lol). but because he is loyal, he is most definitely chan's second in command, a real right hand man. if anything has happened to chan, then changbin knows that he must not hesitate, he must not mourn or act out—but to learn from chan and play things strategically. he must assume the role of the don. off topic, imo, he's someone that might show off his partner. bringing them to poker nights so all the others can drool over them. his lover is his prize and he'd go above and beyond for them. (has definitely been set up by a lover so he doesn't trust easily, but when he does, whew, he falls head first)

hyunjin is in it for the moneyyyy.. feel like he just wants to show off and get girls (and the mens...👀) and do drugs. he just wants to have fun, most importantly. life is like a video game to him; he's kinda just doing a bunch of side quests—but he knows everyone and everything, a real socialite. kinda perceive him as a friend of the mob who has serious drug connects. since he's everywhere all the time, just being in others business feeling like the cops would be trying for yearsss to pin him on murder or intent to distribute charges but they've only got him for possession once.

now jisung confuses me just a bit. originally i wrote this paragraph about how jisung and felix remind me of lenny from shark tale (another scorsese classic, sorta). they don't seem to be cut out for the life of crime and would rather just leave and be their true selves. but them mfs r not sharks!! leaving can be potentially dangerous and often has consequences (and those two would like to keep their fingers and well, their lives).

that being said, i had been internally debating on whether or not jisung would be perceived as someone who could potentially squeal if pressured heavily—which definitely would affect his rank/status.... but I think he's dedicated to prove himself in the life he was given. likely starts of simple; he's selling drugs n stuff. then, he's even handled a couple hits—so now he's looked at with respect when around everyone. and if he's honest, to be accepted and respected means a lot to him. he almost wears his murder count with such pride. has been told time and time again, not to act irrationally.

minho, is ruthless, and would like for his other half to be equally as ruthless. for that reason, he doesn't care to shield any of his work from you, and often asks for your opinion on things. if you're in the club and somebody hits on you or tries to start shit he wants you to be able to handle yourself; thus he recognizes you are your own person and not his property. i feel like minho would want to damn near fear his lover. yet I also view him as someone who is nowhere near ready for a relationship (doesn't have the time, he says) but is always at the right longitude and latitude to fuck yk?

because min is a scorpio I am also inclined to say that he is also a boss that lurks in the shadows—pulling strings behind the scenes. he's not a show off and he's not much of a talker either so but you better believe his actions speaks volumes. he fears no one and will more than definitely make sure he makes an example out of those who fuck up. low-key god complex; everything works out in his favor, especially if he's the last one standing.

nobody knows felix is apart of a crime family and he likes to keep it that way. he flies under the radar and because of it, he's made things that seem impossible happen. he gives a very trustworthy vibe, people feel comfortable around him—he deceiving them. but it's gotten him certain connections, through certain doors, and he's learned heavy secrets (blackmail champion). his kill count is unknown. no like he flies so far under the radar, not much is known about him. still, he says a lot about himself without saying too much.

thinking that seungmin is minho's right hand—his MOST trustworthy. yet I can also see seungmin as someone who may have ulterior motives: he's making his own moves and plays behind everyones back and can be perceived as untrustworthy if anyone knew simply due to the nature of what he's doing (building his own empire maybe who knows) honestly gives hitman vibes if im real (I think there's a very thin line between hitman and serial killer yk and well...hitmen don't take trophies...) seungmin is fr someone who shouldn't be crossed. isn't into dating but he might fuck around once or twice

jeongin chases that dream to be a Made Man™ since being a kid (similar to henry in goodfellas) I would say that he's really reliable. well, until he's not. he's handsome and the ladies love him, what can he say? thus, he stays IN the club unless there's an important play to be made. he's crossed between living his young life [drugs, parties, fucking] and going for his dreams and really committing to the mob life. every so often he has phase where he's getting back into the loop of things until something traumatic happens then he's off on a 4 day binger,,

very interesting indeed.....would love to chat more on this hmm

[toxicanonymity]

I AM REALLY SICK OVER DARK READER I LOVE IT SO MUCH

If you want to write more, I'll eat it all up

Thank you! I'm so glad you liked it. Most of my dark reader thots have been for ghostface lately, but it's possible i'll make my way back here. Meanwhile -

My most popular fic--and it's not even close--is dark!reader x ghostface: every inch (esp. 1 and 3). He's masked and anonymous but talks like night walks. The first one is 1.4k. Naturally, ghostface is dark too (once he's not incapacitated lol).

My main dbf!Joel reader is mildly darkish if questionably competent at her efforts (blackmail).

Reader pressures Joel a lot in that's the spot (masseur!Joel).

In the Objectification (of Joel) universe, Joel gets really dark, but it's because reader nonconsensually activates his dark mode, which he has no control over: The fics are Dark mode (she does it for fun) and Clicking (she does it as payback).

Reader's a little dark (scheming) in the creepy Ezra drabbles.

[pinkmoondoll9shihtzu]

Hello there 🙏🫶 I just want to share this rn with you..... 💌 Recently i have developed a crush on a girl. She is so wonderful and we talk every day & i feel so giddy LOL. I don't even know her face😭 I am so unsure over alot of things & it is both mortifying & exhilarating to experience .. & thats the fun if it..omg.. recently i feel like so many friends are having crushes i wonde r your thoughts on this..

also i forgot how to flirt entirely so i dnt even know if its noticeable to her at all that im interested that way since i havent been bold enough LOL any advice on signaling this to her is appreciated i feel like13 again likeso clumsy LOL its so exciting too omg wishing you a beautiful day when u reaD this i hope it;s fine to send this to u i know u like your inbox used as a confessional but i'm still shy HAHA

🙏🌞🫶🫧🌈

AWWW💞💞💞 happy for u Anon :]....Ues it seems lately many people have been finding new love, i noticed it too the past few weeks :o I've only had that feeling a handful of times over my life, its a special one cus it can be quite fleeting depending on how fast things move, treasure it🌟 altho W/ me and slimbo it lasted ages so by the end of it when we finally confessed love i was FRIED from haveing butterflies in my stomach for so long lol i was losing my marbles over it. anywyas--

Honeslty im BAD at flirting like. i have noooo idea how to make a move , slimbo n i both tried to keep it .pokerface. for years because we're like, i dont even know, we're stupid we were almost enemies for a while. there was a timespan where we were SOOOO competitive and whenever we tried to play games we'd fight so much and i'd end up crying LMAO im laugjing so hard typing this cus we're not even like that now. Like as soon as we got together we became the ultimate harmonious team of considerate affectionate lovers but the courting phase was such a trainwreck lmao. i love it like its beautiful it all worked out, but yeah i suck at flirting i am swagless in that position🧎‍♀️

Altho when it's irl i definitely at least try to Thot it Up, concoct minxy outfits , move in a charming way, one of my most successful tactics has been attempting to orchestrate accidental voyeuristic scenarios for them to catch in their peripherals lol. but you have to be reeeeally subtle to pull that one off ;] i guess mostly i just try to talk to them a lot !! and be thouggtful. send telepathic uncondtional love. SHOW THEM SONGS!!!!!!! if its an internet thing, maybe u can watch movies or youtube videos together. be inquisitive and ask her lots of questions ^_^ one thing that always drew me to slimbo is how curious they are and their #intellect.. But everyones different so just feel it out day by day thru communication💓💓💓

hhope that helpes in some way.. its ok to feel giddy and clumsy im sure ur crush just wants to get to know the most authentic -you- so dont stress too much about specifics ^u^ Enjoy your weekend love ~ ~ ~ P.M.d.9

[ambeauty]

I have some many thots and feelings on the season opener of Titans Part 2. I’ve literally had all day to process these thoughts and I hope they come off well intended. Well DCTK was something… I’ll make this a compliment sandwich. In the caul’s folly ep I loved how hands on Dick and Kory were. Dick constantly checking on her meant everything to me. 🥹🥹🥹 That was when I really floated to the ceiling. It is something so wonderful and so beautiful about seeing Dick be a literally shoulder for Kory to lean on, even with how strong she is. That’s how their relationship has always been but not seeing them shy away from each other physically meant a lot to me.

Now Kory not knowing how to read ancient tamaranean was a choice.. and the fact that the vision was not discussed was also a choice… How does the heir to the throne not know their ancient language. I can see if she forgot like when she had amnesia and maybe it would’ve curled over better if she said I can’t translate this right now, it must have gotten loss when I landed. IDK something to prove she hadn’t studied her own race’s native language as the next in line monarch, even if she didn’t want it.

However the Diner scene, when Dick sat next to Kory I have to say I was very pleased. Like that’s really her man without being her man.I can’t deal with them. I love how Kory went ahead of Dick to talk to the cops too. She was gonna use that charm by any means necessary and then Dick stepped in like “Baby, I got this.” 🤭🤭

Now here’s where things get shakey for me. When Kory starts to feel sick and Dick takes her back to the RV, where the hell does he leave her while going to meet with the sheriff? Was he not afraid someone wouldn’t find her after? Idk him going to visit the sheriff alone just didn’t sit right with me. And constantly leaving her “alone” throughout DCTK gave me some friction. Just didn’t seem like the smartest of ideas. But likely she didn’t wander off or get taken.

Ok so here’s my ultimate gripe with the episode. This episode was supposed to be about Dick & Carol & Ted & Kory… and I feel like they only got about a fourth of the episode. I feel like this was an episode full of very flavorful tastings of something reallly really special. I feel like if Tom could’ve written the episode of just Dick & Kory he would’ve went so crazy and I wanna see that version without all of the extra plot points like TimBer and Brother Blood. I wanted Dick & Kory actually communicating about why they put them together as a marry couple since it seemed so outlandish that they could be in bed together 🙄 (y’all have fucked multiple times.. be fucking for real) I would’ve liked you to remember it but yeah idk it was weird. Like funny but weird.

At this late stage of the series the tiptoeing and longing and pining of this ship is tortorous and TIRED. We should not fucking be here. I am sorry. We shouldn’t. Dick should’ve tried to snap Kory out of her spell by telling her some of her memories that intertwined with his. A conversation about the Mar’i vision should’ve been discussed there. I feel like it won’t ever be fully discussed because when do they have the time???

I am just forever upset that so much of s3 could’ve been giving us this but they had to throw Barbara in there for some sick reason. We should’ve gotten all of this pining last season so we weren’t spending majority of our final season there. I feel like the moment we see Dick and Kory happy and in love it’ll be over. Like 5 minutes of it. And what was the point of spending 11 episodes pining. IDK. I know Dick and Kory would have such a beautiful relationship once it’s finally said and done and I am perturbed that I am going to have to spend time exploring it in fic alone.

I just don’t wanna have to write fix it fics because that means that I was unfulfilled by the media and that was fine last season they had time to fix it on their own but the way they went about it here leave so much to be desired.

In conclusion. Dick telling Kory he would never leave her was sooooooooooo sweet. A perfect moments in the midst of a lot of shit and although he didn’t tell Kory directly. She knows how he feels. Idk when they will actually have the talk if they actually have the talk but I am sooo ready to see it. For my little DickKorian heart there’s so much riding on this conclusion. And I hope I can feel satisfied in the end. Right now I feel edged to the end of oblivion not gon hold you.

[thealtofvalleyxdoodles]

SUUUUPER LATE IKIK AND IDK WHAT YOUVE ANSWERED OR NOT FROM THAT ASK GAME YOU REBLOGGED FROM ME BUT

woah caps lock was on oops. Not changing it

6, 12, 16, 77?

OKAY HOMIE I CANT FIND THE ONE YOUR TALKING ABT BUT I DID FINE ANOTHER ONE I REBLOGGED- (also, im doing Monster AU!Ruby bc that's been on the brain for a HOT second now lmao-)

note for the road ahead: Ruby is a jaguar hybrid (was finna make her a siren but then i was like NO. BIG CAT. so yeah. welcome to my brain and her fuckass thots-), Soap is (unoriginally) a werewolf, Ghost is a Siren who had his powers taken away by Roba (i am NOT sorry), Roach is a bug-shifter (he can change into all kinds of bugs-), Farah is a lioness hybrid, Alex is a Fae, Gaz is a Fairy, and Laswell is a selfaware android, oh and Price is a minitour and Nikolai is a Vampire bc i say so.

NOW LESS GET IT-

warnings: mentions of poison,

6. Does your OC know magic? Were they born with magical ability or did they train to acquire it? What is their favorite type of magic? Least favorite?

EhHhHhHhHh-not really-i mean...she's semi-immune to Spine's poison (he's a diamondback rattlesnake hybrid-) but she can still get severely sick from too high of a dose from it.

and well, kinda sorta given her breed but, she's a real fast swimmer. (not as fast as Ghost tho-) that and her teeth are a lot stronger (not as strong as soaps or as Farah's but yeah-)

12. Is your OC cynical or optimistic? Who or what shaped their outlook on life?

She's pretty "glass half full" tbh (she has to be, she's a mom and the smallest thing in 141-) but uhm, fair warning, she has days where her mood just spikes and then dips and the spikes up again and then all of a sudden her day's ruined and she's the scariest thing Soap has ever laid eyes on-

16. How does your OC make money? Do they have a respectible profession or work a series of odd jobs? Are they a criminal? Or do they get creative in the pursuit of coin?

....Special Forces??? WAS THAT AN ACTUAL QUESTION GUYS-

SHE WORKS FOR THE FUCKING S.A. FUCKING S.

ahem i mean, yes she has a perfectly legal job that pays her very well and not bc she scares the shit outta her buff ass boss out on the feild.

AND WHAT WAS 77???? IF YOU FIND THE ASK GAME I REBLOGGED FROM YOU TAG ME AND ILL DO ANOTHER VERSION OF THIS-

[kierras]

name.  mandy

pronouns.  she/her

preference of communication.  tumblr ims/messages, discord eventually. 

most active muse.  kie has been the loudest in my brain since last march.

experience / how many years.  an embarrassing amount. i’ve been rping on tumblr since i was like 20, so... almost 10 years? yikes. 

platforms you use.  tumblr mostly but i like discord too. 

best experience.  s/o to the hunger games rp community circa 2013 for introducing me to my best friend ( @conradism​ ) 

rp pet peeves.  negativity. imo, if you’re constantly complaining or focusing on the things you don’t like/don’t have, you’re just setting yourself up for a bad experience rp wise. blacklist, the unfollow button and the block button are all your friends. use them and protect your peace. 

fluff, angst, or smut. i tend to lean more towards fluff and angst and really only feel comfortable writing smut with a very, very small handful of people. 

plots or memes.  i like both for different reasons. memes are a good way to break the ice and start things rolling without overthinking things which is sometimes easier than plotting. no thots, just vibes. but i also really love plotting and diving deeper into more thought out things too, but sometimes i’m terrible at that due to said overthinking and general awkwardness. 

long or short replies.  even when i say i’m gonna write something short i don’t usually stick to it. i ramble a lot. 

best time to write. unfortunately i usually have the strongest muse late-ish at night when i should be sleeping.  

are you like your muses.  i think me and kie have some things in common, but not too terribly. we’ll both lecture you on the state of the planet and the oceans eco-system until we’re blue in the face if you let us, but she’s definitely a lot cooler than me LOL 

tagged by.  @multistoty  tagging.  @jaymaybnk, @conradism, @cfknights​ , @wavedon​, @pogueprinc3ss​ and honestly whoever wants to do it !!

[jojolightningfingers]

Pick your favorite fic/wip. #'s 4, 5, 7, 10, 13, 19, 21, 26

4. If the fic required it, what did you research in order to write it?

where the heart is has stalled out mainly because I am agonizing over 1. the original characters and 2. getting the details of how people in a little village way up in the mountains live accurate. How do they survive up there? How isolated are they? What will grow there, what kinds of food are viable, what can they reasonably be expected to HAVE? Hopefully one day I'm just like 'man fuck it' and remember that magic IS a part of that world and can shortcut for some of that stuff, but man.

5. Did you outline the fic?

I outline most fics these days, to some extent. Even the ones where I just start writing a scene because I want it out of my head (moth, meet flame comes to mind), I'll put notes to myself on things to incorporate, or directions the thread of the story follows. As I get more and more of those I'll start putting them in a rough order before I start trying to fill in the gaps around them. Most of my larger wips have somewhat more extensive outlines that I put together before writing much of them, but those are still more like reminders to myself of what I want to have happen when.

7. How did you decide what character(s) would narrate the fic?

Answered this for the first two parts of teethmarks already, and the same principle holds true for all of the stuff I write, I think. Mostly that decision is 'I want to see how [character], who has X characteristics, deals with this specific situation'. For WtHi, it's 'how does Therion, someone who was betrayed by his closest/only friend, who is a reserved, solitary, and wandersome individual as a result, deal with the solidarity Olberic offers in having had a similar experience, with having somewhere to go BACK to?' for THotS it's 'how does Grimmjow, who by means of survival equates touch to violence, who is human in spite of it all, learn to accept that he can WANT a softer touch?'; in mirror image to that, TMiYM asks 'how does Ichigo, who wants to protect people, who has a good heart at the center of his being, learn to accept the part of himself that WANTS violence?' Those two in particular are about accepting uncomfortable hidden aspects of oneself by accepting them as they are externalized in one another. (This is what a soulmate is to me)

Obviously this isn't quite as true for the erotic stuff necessarily: thy neighbor (thyself) was an exercise in having three narrators at once while also having only one narrator. Gogeta is Gogeta, but also Goku and Vegeta. I spent a LOT of time picking the wording such that some parts of it felt like one or the other (or both/neither). I guess for erotica the decision gets made by answering 'who gets fucked up the most by it?' In MMF, Ace really is doing this more or less for the hell of it (with a side of 'oh this blonde's eyeing me up but I don't think he realizes that, maybe he needs some encouragement?'); Sanji on the other hand is having an extremely lowkey Gay Panic about it. For before it's too late, admittedly they're both equally fucked up by the situation going on, but Seth has that added extra layer of 'I am a knight and Eirika is my liegelord, i SHOULD NOT BE DOING THIS.' This would occur to him because he's older and more experienced in the social systems he and Eirika exist in, he can't help but think of the consequences for both of them, but by the same token those systems as they pertain to the immediate have been blown to cinders. For Reiju in this cursed wip, it's because she numerically (the numbers are important) suffers more acts of violence, plus the inherent violence of the goal and their father's role in it. The brothers only have to bear one each. Ergo, her head has more to work with in it.

This answer got away from me but like. tldr bro, I can't explain it concisely. I pick it based on Vibes.

10. How did you approach writing the fic? (e.g. wrote it start to finish in order, started with the ending, starting with the twist)

I don't know that I've ever written anything start to finish in my life except maybe the vignette-adjacent works. Typically my stuff happens in two patterns: I'll either patchwork bits and pieces in the middle and work my way outwards to an opening and closing (as in a touch of home) or I'll pin down the opening and closing and figure out a good middle to hook them together (as in cutting instrument). I feel like you can sort of tell which, in general, is which, if you read enough of my stuff. Short answer: it almost always comes together in bits and pieces that I try to smooth into one contiguous whole.

13. Did you write any of the fic by hand? If yes, which parts? Do you find you write differently by hand vs typing?

Man, I haven't written fic entirely by hand in YEARS. Used to be I would do the rough drafts and a lot of the editing by hand, then type it up. They're very different to me and it mainly comes down to the editing aspect, not in a way that I feel like I can describe well. iykyk. Maybe the last fic that I know for sure I wrote any part of by hand is the jonadio from forever ago, I still have a clear memory of doing at LEAST the scene with Jotaro by hand.

19. While editing, did you kill any darlings? What were they?

Yes, but I hardly remember most of them since I'm not in the habit (yet) of using a scraps document. There is one bit I know I have from ch5 of THotS, since that whole thing was written almost entirely in the discord DMs:

“I want to apologize to you,” she says a little later, as you’re both preparing to scour for some poor unlucky bastard to eat. “For the comment I made a while ago.” You’re confused which one she means, there’s a lot you’d demand apology for from her, but her next words give you pause. “About your Fracciones. That was… unkind. I’m sorry.”

One of those things where I had an idea for where I wanted to go from that and lost it halfway through so I just cut it and did something else.

21. Did the fic end up shorter or longer than you had planned?

god they ALWAYS end up longer. always. why is TMiYM longer than the fic it was epiloguing. Why is MMF THAT fucking long. why.

26. Share your favorite detail

I don't know that I really have any...... I've read and reread all my work so much that it all kinda blurs together. How about this, how about yall tell me YOUR favorite details in the replies or smth. I like finding out what people notice the most.

thanks for your ask <3

[pacificpurgatory]

01/30/2024

January 30th, 2024

yoo-taw… the waters of the Great Salt Lake are too saline for most aquatic life to live in, but it still looks beautiful from the surface 🐟 i visited my friend jason who lives in salt lake city. he used to live in vegas but moved to utah several years ago. now he has a gf and job and a life of his own out there. it’s always nice catching up with old friends, i feel like we really just pick up where we left off. i was supposed to go with some other friends from vegas too but they flaked smh my head… i had fun tho 😛 i went to the opera in downtown, it was my first time and tbh it was soo fun! a lot of people dressed up fancy. i went snowshoeing on a scenic mountain. i hiked a lot with my friend. i was never an outdoors-y person growing up, but lately i’ve been trying to become one so i’ve been doing a bunch of stuff outside. i even got new hiking boots a few weeks ago (thx REI!! ⛰️) we went to antelope island and saw bison. we climbed to the top of a mountain by the salt lake and also hiked around the entire perimeter of it, so we basically own that mountain now 😎 we had deep conversations about aesthetic symbolism and esoteric european occultism and also philosophical debates about tough questions like “would you rather have a gay son or a thot daughter?”

i had a great time being in nature and catching up with my good friend and seeing/meeting the people who have become significant in his life after moving away 🙂

one evening, we went out drinking in downtown and as we were about to call it a night and leave, some lone young woman on the street we were walking down asked us to escort her home because she trusted us for some reason. her name was brie (“like the cheese!”) she was from wisconsin. we made sure she got home safe but i don’t think she should have been so trusting of two random men in the first place… i felt like Batman that night 🥷🦇 had she asked some people less noble than us two, it could have been tragic. she had a boyfriend who didn’t care that she was out alone at night or with two strangers taking her home. the world can be evil but i’d like to believe we imparted some humanity that makes it easier to live in

[satoruhour]

hi T bby :( i miss youuuu work has got me fucked up

i have qn 😼😼😼

ok how would jjk men react to their baby who squirms A LOT when she comes? like chills all over her body and if she's laying on her back she literally arches her back so hard she's practically upright 😋😋 not speaking from experience ofc (m' lying lol i give myself such mindblowing orgasms no man could ever 🙄🙄🙄)

idk i feel like geto and nanami will literally go feral over this and like when this happens they are the type to pull you up on their lap and like hug you while still thrusting IEKFKEKKEOFO

no need to write alot abt this i just want ur thots on dis eheheheh (also i hope i made sense im half asleep)

SENSITIVITY UPPP !

a/n: omg rose ur mind THANK YOU FOR THIS muacks x, i changed nanami’s a little tho! tagging @hyomagiri @mysugu @shotorus @screampied @jabamin @marimogf @arminsumi @slttygeto @etherealxmaya @happygoluckyalexis 💟

wc: LONG. dont even ask im so annoyed i keep writing sm LMOAOAOA

warnings: sensitive reader for all, reader and gojo fucks for the first time but they arent virgins!!, brief fingering and oral (f! receiving), multiple rounds before actual p -> v sex, protected sex, spitting onto your pussy, bit of degradation, use of ‘slut’, implied filming at the end (gojo), RA!geto, multiple rounds, implied oral (both f! and m! receiving), unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink (geto), stressed!nanami, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, imagine his goggles having a strap or sum, pussy slapping, slight breast play, clit stimulation, m! masturbation, kinda goofy but we dont pay attention to that (nanami), dad’s bsf!toji (again.. it’s my fav okay), semi-public sex (pool sex), age gap (reader, late 20s and toji, late 30s), spitting, protected sex, slight daddy kink, brief face-sitting (toji), n*sfw under the cut

✶ GOJO

like always, gojo is relentless when he’s teasing you. whether it’s by making cheesy comments in front of his students or declaring his love for you in a nationwide meeting of other sorcerers, or even in private settings where he makes you work for either kisses or his cock, it’s always a sure thing to happen. it’s obvious that it would happen the first time the two of you are drowning in pleasure, too, noticing how you always flinch and your moans get louder when his kisses get a little too deep and passionate.

“are you okay?” gojo asks in between kisses as he undresses you, planting small pecks along your shoulder and down your chest. there is it — your twitches, but all you do is cup his cheeks and bring him to your mouth to distract him from your very obviously sensitive body. he has an inkling about what it might be, but he much rather see it in proper action or for you to admit it yourself. “baby’s so on edge—”

“i’m not,” you pout, letting him wrap an arm around you to pull you closer to him. it didn’t help that you were currently in an awkward position in his office at the goddamn school, trying not to knock over his stationery and papers. well, you were, he definitely doesn’t give a shit. “i’m just . .”

you sigh but no words are articulated, only letting him have his way with you in the afternoon. this whole situation has got you hot and bothered by the circumstances in which you ended up here, body on fire both from his touches and the weather. bit by bit, your body’s revealed to him, work pants thrown to the side and your legs propped up on his wooden desk. it’s almost humiliating, but gojo licks his lips at the dark patch on your underwear.

alas, the first time could’ve been in a better place like his penthouse or a hotel, but the two of you was holding back too much that it has come to settling for his office which he hardly even uses. but gojo has a gift of making anything fit whether it’s squeezing into a top of yours for a tiktok video or a terrible fashion decision on his end or; just like how he tries to fit his fingers in your tight hole.

you have a hard time trying to contain yourself as he marvels at the way he stretches you out, middle and ring finger pushing into your gummy walls that’s just clenching, clenching and clenching, and it’s this day you find out gojo is so good at oral that it’s almost criminal. when his tongue latches onto your clit, there’s a plethora of sounds that leave your mouth while he licks and sucks at it.

“s-satoru—” you’re whining, nails sure to leave marks on the desk from the way you claw at it, but you’re also conscious of how your body moves. he’s just too good, though, slobbering over your dripping cunt and pumping his fingers non-stop. the other arm wraps around your thighs and he’s so tall that he needs to kneel to eat you out and you never thought you’d see the strongest sorcerer on his knees. you’re the first. 

“like that? like my tongue on your pussy?” he speaks, muffled, meeting your eyes in a lustful gaze while he continues his ministrations and it’s like that for as long as you can remember for maybe two, three, four times before he finally starts fucking you. after putting on the condom, it takes a while for him to fit himself but he bottoms out after deep breaths with you, and when he starts moving you’re just a mess. whining and panting as your body shakes and gojo is already planning to make you cum even more just to see your sensitive body react to him.

but he’s nice about it and he thinks the teasing can be brought down a notch just to make sure you have a good first time with him; you’re just too cute not to tease, though.

“first time and i already know your sweet spots, huh?” gojo smirks, holding both your legs and placing them on his shoulder, loving how you protest in embarrassment. it’s true, he’s hitting all the right spots, hips ramming into you with proper thrusts that’s all different from your previous endeavours, and makes sure to give attention to your clit, too, locking eyes with you before he gathers a ball of saliva and spits onto it.

you gasp at the feeling and the sight of it, clenching around him and he laughs. “oh, you liked that? filthy slut.”

he’s so gross but your body shivers, already having mini orgasms from the overwhelming sensations but you’re still unconsciously conscious of the way you appear to gojo — it’s obvious he’s had many partners and you didn’t want to disappoint, but you’ve also had your fair share of disappointing partners who didn’t particularly like your sensitivity. from wanting breaks to your body convulsing, it felt like too much for them to handle.

until today, you guess, because gojo’s leaning forward to cage you in his arms while there's a resounding pap! pap! pap! that sounds across the office, pussy being pounded relentlessly as he holds you and encourages your moans.

“c’mon, baby, give it t’me,” he mumbles, hand cradling your face while the other holds his body up, “don’t hold yourself back.”

that sends a chill down your spine, so he notices, trusting him enough to wrap your legs around his waist and pull him even deeper into your tight cunt. he groans at that, going in for a sensual kiss while his thighs and glutes start to burn; but for a first time, he’s already addicted to your pussy, chasing that high in pathetic little ruts while he whines into your mouth.

“c’mon baby, c’mon baby, fuuuck . .” it’s the expression you give him: so raw and filled with pleasure while your body responds so sweetly to him that he spills into the condom first, holding you closer if it was even possible to. gojo mumbles incoherent sentences into your skin, a little annoyed he had came first because it was always you, you, you first and you deserved ecstasy before him, always, but he fights through the overstimulation.

your eyes flutter open and close at every opportunity, not even noticing he’s pulled away from you just to watch you unravel as he angles his hips. he gives extra attention to your clit and twines his fingers between yours, keeping blurry eye contact.

“let go for me, baby,” he murmurs into your connected hands, kissing it, “cum all over me, i got you.”

and you’re cumming, albeit a little restrained from all your previous experiences but you listen to him — jaw slacking from the sheer pleasure and your body shaking so much that it sends tremors through the table. your moans reach the ceiling while your back arches off of it and gojo wishes he had his phone to record everything. right now, memory is enough.

“satoru, it’s so—!” eyes closed tight, he’s moaning with you at your sensitivity, massaging your calves as you continue to ride out your orgasm and letting you reach a calm state. before you know it, you’re trembling again when he pulls out of you and disposes of the condom but instead of an annoyed expression you’re faced with his shit-eating grin that you both love and hate.

“w-what . .”

he tugs you up from your twined hands, placing a gentle kiss that you also jolt from, confused at the smile that you feel through his kiss.

“need to see that again,” gojo moans softly as he kneads your legs in comfort. one hand reaches to take his phone, “wanna see that again, baby— the way your body moves,” and again, you’re scared of the verdict until you see the camera app opened on the screen.

“it’s so fucking stunnin’. you’re so fucking stunnin’.”

✶ GETO

“we’re gonna get kicked out,” you protest and yet you let resident assistant and your boyfriend geto suguru kiss all around your face and chest as he hurriedly removes your clothes and you softly moan at the feeling of his hands on your tits. even if it was the holidays and it was his dorm room that you were messing around in (he insisted, said he didn’t want you to shoulder the shame if people were to hear you), you were still worried about the neighbouring rooms.

“i checked, they’re not in, baby,” your jaw drops at that and then it drops even more when his mouth engulfs your nipple in your mouth, swirling his tongue around your bud.

“you didn’t . .”

“yeah, no, i didn’t,” he laughs when your expression crosses between incredulous and pleasure, humming into your chest when your hands pull apart his bunned-up hair, “but i know them . . they’re the type to go home during the christmas season.”

“well— that’s—! that’s even worse that you know them,” it’s like you didn’t hear the second part of what geto said, “now these acquaintances— they’re gonna hear you have sex,” you shout and you realise your voice has reached a volume higher than intended and you slap your palm against your mouth and you wince again at the loud noise it makes.

he just laughs in typical geto fashion, because he’s always calm and collected towards any problem that arises against him just like this one, except that it was far from a problem because he definitely knew that they were gone from the time all three of them (the ones closest to his door, at least) had knocked to say goodbye until the new school year.

he wasn’t sure about the ones on the same floor, further from him though.

“hey,” he removes your hands, interlocking his fingers with yours before giving you a soft kiss, “i’m confident they’ve went back home, i promise.” and when geto promises things to you, you fall prey to it every time. like how he reassures you that finals are going to go well, like how your submission for your essay will definitely get you an A+, or like how he makes sure he’ll get the important groceries for your room.

“. . okay then,” you mumble, running a hand through his hair to smoothen it out and he leans into your touch, before you bring him to your lips while you climb him, a tangle of sloppy kisses and hands going everywhere until you don’t know yourself any more.

it descends into insanity soon enough, going from dry humping into you slapping his tip on your tongue. and right down to cumming on geto’s tongue for god knows how many times before you’re held up by your arms while your boyfriend pounds into you from behind. if not for the help of suguru’s arms, you’re sure your body would fall forward from how limp you’ve gone.

“sugu— s-shit—” you’re moaning out more to yourself than him, still afraid that you’d be heard but the dick is so good that it has you losing yourself bit by bit and the both of you know that.

“arch your back f’r me, princess,” he pants out, hands travelling up from your nape to your lower back just to press on your arch, leaning back to admire your pretty cunt from behind. the sheets are already a little soaked from under the towel he’s placed out, and if it wasn’t for your pussy, his organised mind would already have a reminder of how he should bring new sheets to his dorm.

but the snug hugging of your walls along his length always causes a proper, well-behaved student like geto suguru to unravel like thread to his rawest self, acting like he’s deprived of sex; akin to an animal is exactly how he’s slamming into you while you relish in the spread of your cunt.

no matter how many times the two of you fuck, you’re always amazed at the uncomfortable stretch and how you manage to take him every time — he knows this too — “takin’ me so damn well, f-fuck,” mumbling right into your neck when he brings you up.

you whimper at the praise, sentences leaving your mouth with no coherence. with his one hand able to wrap perfectly around your neck, the other goes all the way down to your clit, drawing circles that match his pace. it only fogs your mind even more alongside his cock that reaches deep in you.

now with arms released you take the opportunity to blindly reach for your lover, sighing when you feel him react to your touch. every touch he leaves on you is fire, and with each minute that passes you only become more and more sensitive, evident in how your body jerks in his hold.

“shaking s’much,” geto giggles, pulling you flush against his front just to feel your body shudder by his doing, “sometimes i forget how sensitive you are—”

you whine at the teasing words, almost sounding like you’re pouting at it from how you drag your words out, “it’s ’cause you’re always so busy . .”

“i know, baby,” he’s caging you in his embrace as his hips continue to rail into yours, “and ’m sorry f’r that.”

you only hum at his apology, hand clasped tight on his sweaty nape while your body bends in ways you never thought possible. just like his fingers, you can feel his weeping tip kiss your cervix and those few thrusts alone sends you shaking in his hold.

“s-suguru . . wan’ to sit in your lap,” you’re mumbling, closing a hand around the one that’s grasping your neck gently, “tired— just w’nna—” you’re choking on words and teeth almost drawing blood by how hard you were biting into it.

and like always, geto succumbs to your pleas as he wraps secure arm after secure arm around you. he easily manoeuvres himself on his butt and hauls you until you’re turned towards him and leaning against him before he’s slipping into you again.

“show me how those hips work, baby,” he murmurs drunkenly with onyx eyes focused on your cunt. how your hips grind in circular motions and how each time you bottom out, there’s the delicious, familiar squelch of your pussy, “fuck me, amie, there’s no better sight than you on me.”

that, you let out a laugh when in the blur of your mind, you recall that your boyfriend is currently studying old french — he’s been calling you amie more and more, and the endless praise only has your hands pressing deeper into his torso while you bounce on his lap.

suguru looks at you like you were carved by goddesses, watching you intently with a close eye while your body continues to move atop him. your hands feel prickly, sharp along his abs that tense and flex under your touch, hands planted tenderly along your ass and hips that try to help you — he’s just too enamoured with your pretty curves to properly help you, though, only spurring him and his hips on to meet yours halfway.

your hand closes around the other’s wrist, guiding his hand to your needy clit, mimicking how you’d touch yourself when you’re alone and bothered. he takes over easy enough, thumb pressing and pushing your bundle of nerves just how you like it, neck all exposed when you tilt your head back to moan.

“not so shy now, hm? is she close?” your hips pick up the pace at his question, desperate for release when your deliverer was geto himself as you’re prying the hands from your neck and putting his fingers in your mouth; all the while, he’s still rubbing your clit with him rutting into you for his high too. you suck and twirl your tongue around his digits, soaking them with your saliva as he watches you with hooded lids.

“y-yeah . .” you mumble into his hands, holding it so tightly while his cock continues to impale you, “s’full, sugu—”

“i-is it now?” suguru speaks through thrusts, hands leaving your warm mouth to cradle your face, taking his time with the bottom of your face: squeezing your jaw, thumbing your bottom lip, “wanna feel you cream my cock, amie.”

you mewl at that, full on bouncing now with renewed strength on his sensitive cock and moaning without a care in the world, the wet squelching of your pussy definitely telling the other neighbours just what the two of you were doing but it’s hard to give a shit when your walls wrap tight around his dick and you see heaven every time he hits your sweet spot and before you know it, you’re cumming right on his cock, coating his shaft with your juices.

“cumming‚ ’m cumming, suguru—” your thighs burn like hell but the sensations are just so damn good, back arching all the way while your eyes roll back into your skull and you hold onto his thighs. your thighs are pulled taut, whole body convulsing around him while he watches in awe at your sensitive nature, a primal need overtaking him and he’s trapping you with both arms and ramming up into you that you let out a drawn out moan.

“su— too much, s-sensitive—”

“oh, i know,” he grunts and hides in the safety of your neck, arousal spraying everywhere and your needy moans was all geto needed to spill with a loud cry of your name paired with the continual rough thrusts up into your pussy, “oh— shit, shit, shiiit . . gonna fill you up nice and full—!”

geto does just that, cock spilling all of his hot cum into your waiting womb while you let him hold you through all of it — still shivering body and all. and finally when you both come down (or well, just him), he’s grabbing your ass and laughs in surprise when you jerk with a small moan. downtime for you took longer; he’s content to just stay there and let you cockwarm him.

“my sensitive darling,” he leaves kisses along your clavicle right up to the stretch of your jaw and revels in how you shiver and your breath quickens, “you’re so cute that i just wanna make you cum over and over all over me.”

✶ NANAMI

nanami kento would let you step over him, any time. the way you teach the students, the way you stand up to the higher-ups together with gojo so well that he’s a little jealous, the way you’re always greeting him with a big smile the moment he comes home — it’s obvious from the way his eyes light up just a little from the tiring job of being a sorcerer.

today you’re looking a little sexier than usual but at the same time, it’s just you in your apron while you’re removing the suit jacket from him. you can’t even remember the last time you first stepped foot in his apartment, a little intoxicated from the drinking outing you had with shoko, gojo and him. it was clear only the three of you were good drinkers. with shoko hauling gojo’s drunk ass back to the school (and later successfully getting him to teleport them both), nanami takes the chance to invite you back to his place for more drinks.

wine, specifically, but not before a few glasses of water.

you do remember when you moved in, though, happy at the prospect of finally living with your lovely boyfriend who insisted that you don’t need to cook when you don’t feel like it. but you liked to defy him sometimes, just like today.

“hey, sweetheart,” you perk up, eyes fixated on the way he pulls his tie loose and removes it, throwing it onto the sofa. it’s unlike him, but being with you made him less particular about routine when you already take so much of stress away.

wordlessly, you’re yelping as he takes you into his embrace with both arms and feeling the feel of his lips on yours in an instant. he’s worked up, you know, but you can’t help but feel your pussy throb at nanami using you as an outlet to release his anger.

“hi, honey, just— sorry,” he mumbles in apology, forehead resting against yours at the roughness he displays, “rough mission today.”

your hands feel like salvation when you caress his cheeks, going onto your tiptoes to give him a much gentler kiss, “don’t apologise, kento. come, i made dinner.”

he feels so bad for saying the things he wants to say next, not wanting to see your disappointed expression or defeated frown, but, “can i have dessert first?”

he cringes because it’s so obvious gojo made him say that, but he did find your surprised face absolutely adorable. “oh! i . . didn’t make dessert . .” it sits for a while until you realise what your boyfriend was really referring to and your cheeks heat up. stifling a giggle, your head collides with his chest while he just sighs.

“did gojo tell you to say that—”

he cuts you off before you even finish the question, “yes,” and you’re laughing so much that it gets the ever stoic nanami to chuckle to, but he does mean it as cheesy as the line was. “so?”

nanami doesn’t like to play with his food, but he just can’t resist when he’s buried in your cunt near the front door of all places. his penthouse may not be as luxurious as gojo’s, but it still boasts its richness in furniture and decoration, like the full length windows and glass tables that you’re so desperately trying not to shatter. with one hand planted onto the table and the other in the blonde locks of your lover, your moans echo for everyone to hear.

“missed this pussy for the whole. damn. day,” he groans into your cunt, stress from the work day seeping through in how sloppily he eats your pussy, tongue flicking your clit while his hand holds your leg up. the other is busy kneading your tits and playing with your nipples, goggles pushed up to his forehead while strands of his hair stick out from under it. it’s such a new look on him as you look down on him, the bottom half of his face all soaked with your juices.

“like it when i use you like this?” he mumbles into your clit, hazel eyes making contact with yours from below and you swear if it wasn’t for your strong grip on the table and his hair you were sure to collapse, “like it when i eat you out for everyone to see?”

you’re nodding frantically, hole clenching and heart picking up the pace at this different side of nanami, a scowl etched onto his face from whatever happened at work and you wished he’d come home stressed more often. sagging against the wall, your hips only push forward to get a taste of his tongue again, jerking in response when he starts slapping your pussy.

it’s loud and wet, emphasising just how much you were dripping onto the floor and onto his hands. his slaps aren’t light. oh, no, they were hard-hitting ones, stimulating your clit so well that you can already feel your knee buckling. 

“please, k-kento, need your mouth—” you whine, bucking your hips into him that all he does is chuckle a little, finally letting your leg down for a little rest until he’s taking your other and propping it onto the glass table. he knows how sensitive you can get, and he’s still doing this?

“your table, babe—”

he waves a hand, rising from his stance on the floor momentarily to give you a kiss, “i can always buy another. but this,” and you wish you could document how with each kiss nanami lays on your body, he’s lowering himself back to his knees and his large hands on your heaving stomach makes you dizzy.

“this, you, i can’t replace, and i’d love to see my girl tremblin’ when she cums—” he pushes a thumb into your clit and you shudder, hands opening to give your pussy another spank, “again.” another slap and you cry out, “again.” one last spank and he smiles softly at your toes already curling around the edge of the glass table, “and again.”

you don’t catch your breath before nanami goes right back into abusing your clit with his tongue, sucking hard on it and then flicking his tongue non-stop against it, and he switches between both that you don’t even know what he’s doing any more. you’re only focused on trying not to fall over, but it’s proving hard from the way you push his head deeper into your cunt and how your hips hump his face.

through your semi-closed lids, you see him palming his bulge and that only heightens your sensitivity, sight infiltrated by his own eyes staring up at you. his hand only moves faster, making quick work to remove his trousers and he sighs into your sopping pussy at the relief he feels. soon, the filthy noises of nanami eating you out can be heard with the slick noises of his palm against his length, pumping his cock to your pleasure.

“mmhm— that’s it, grind against my face,” your boyfriend groans into your cunt, already knowing you’re close from the way you start to strengthen your grasp on his hair that it hurts just a bit, but he doesn’t mind a bit of pain, “cum for me, sweetheart, cum on my tongue.”

“o-oh shiit, kento—!”you let out the loudest moan at that before you’re trembling all over that your foot falls from the glass table and nanami’s quick reflexes help to support your obvious shaking knees. you gush all over his face while you slump forward and again, nanami only smoothly falls onto his back just for you to slam both hands onto the floor for a proper anchor, unaware of your predicament as you continue to grind your soaking core into his face, body convulsing from above him. his tongue never stops, sucking on your clit harshly before he opens his eyes and he’s just drunk on you, your cum, everything that he has to curl his larger forearms around your thighs and pull you to his face.

“oh, fucking god,” your thighs continue to shake around his face, cumming so much that it falls onto the floor and stains his blue shirt and it takes a while for you to come down with nanami helping you; hands massaging your ass, lips along your inner thighs.

“fuck— how we’d end up on the floor?”

this time, nanami truly lets out a laugh, a hand coming around from the back to hold your chin, “you fell on me.”

“oh . .” you mumble, eyes scrunching in a flustered state while you just groan into your hands, “i am . . so sorry.”

“don’t be,” signalling that he wants to sit up, you scooch down his body and scream into your palms. he’s amused, to say the least, pulling away your hands to give you a genuine, lovesick smile before he uses the back of his palm and wipes away your cum on his face. with a slow lick and intense eyes, you watch as he licks it up, “want you to see you like this again, my love. s’sensitive, shivering and all.”

nanami pulls your chin towards him, “and i’ll make sure to take care of you each time.”

✶ TOJI

“t-toji—” your words are soft with toji’s palm upon your mouth, stuck in a predicament such as this — in your backyard pool that your rich dad can definitely afford alongside his best friend who’s in the same department as him. except he was actually taking care of you, bringing you to places to shop and eat, letting you have a shoulder to cry on. but it’s long before the two of you know that it’s something more ever since you’ve graduated university and were looking for a job.

you had grown into your features from when he first saw you at the start of uni at twenty-three, looking a little more shy than now as you await your first day of a life-changing education. he’s struck by your attractiveness, sure, but he’s more than confident that your father would burn and roast him on a grill for talking about his daughter in that way; a daughter he didn’t deserve, really.

it was messy, your relationship — from two complicated ex-wives to a third stepmother that you were a little tired of opening up to each time; it was clear that you already couldn’t connect that well to your parents. your father was too busy most of the time and that caused a lot of fights, and while this third wife is a little more understanding, it still hurts to see the man you marry lose himself in his work and you’re sure this woman would be on her merry way very soon.

toji came in around when your father had remarried the first time, introducing the two of you over a cup of coffee while you had to meet the second wife as well. awkward as it was, toji’s upfront and blunt disposition helped lighten the mood a bit, sometimes leaning in to whisper at how she probably has a stick up her ass and maybe she only married him for the money.

and toji tried to stick to his job, but the thought of you simply couldn’t leave his mind, visiting your home with every chance he could get. drinking nights, streaming soccer matches, barbeque parties, he was there, sometimes catching and sometimes missing you when you had stayed over at the dorms, but nevertheless, he made the effort.

you both got too tangled up, though, because after all that you find yourself palming your dad’s best friend who’s probably ten years older than you as he tries to sun tan, but all he can think about is your hand on his swimming trunks. you two aren’t even sure what led to this; from talking about the possible jobs you could get into with your degree to your father and his third wife, you had probably let it slip that you always found him hot — or, he would’ve muttered under his breath about how he can take care of you a hundred times better than your father could.

not that you needed anyone, already a full grown adult but his heart can’t help but jump at the prospect of coming home to you and giving you the love you deserved from a proper man.

you both panic when you think you hear the front door opening, jumping into the pool to cool your nerves but toji dives in, too, and now you’re frozen in place, ass propped up against his hard dick while you nonchalantly lie on the pool edge. the older man only scratches his neck and looks disinterested when your father asks why the hell the both of you are taking a random swim on a sunday afternoon.

“summer heat, daddy! it’s a little hot these days,” you lather on the act way too much but your dad doesn’t seem to know what’s going on. you do feel toji’s grasp tighten on your waist though, you wonder if it’s because of the word daddy.

“you’re not wrong,” he fans his shirt which is already stuck to his body; of course he’s in a suit on a sunday and it only means one thing, he’s going to the office to finish some extra work, “well, i’m—”

“—going to the office, yeah i know,” you mumble, sighing and your father at least looks a little guilty, “have a good day, daddy.”

“she’s right, y’know,” toji calls from behind you, hands slipping past your swimming suit and right to your cunt under the water, but what your father didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, “spend more time with us next time.”

the other only nods, offering a simple salute before he stalks off but neither of you move until you hear for sure that his car is out of the driveway before you continue grinding against him and let out a soft sigh.

“you know he only means well by working hard, doll,” toji frowns, using the water to get closer to you and he’s instantly drunk from your size difference, “he likes his work — in a world where most people don’t like what they do, it’s sort of a blessing, already.”

you mumble, turning around and keeping yourself afloat, unsure where to put your hands until toji personally takes them and places them on his toned, wet chest. you gasp inwardly at the muscle there and you’re truly realising now that you’re standing (or floating) before your father’s best friend.

“i know i just—”

“need your daddy?” he teases, ducking down to draw out eye contact when you avoid his striking green eyes. you nod, “but he’s already here.”

you roll your eyes with a smile, pushing at his shoulders but he doesn’t budge one bit, humming when you try to get closer by wrapping your arms around his neck. he lets you, also easily catching your legs that wrap around his waist. the water allows that, pinning you against the wall of the pool while he undresses you with his eyes alone. toji doesn’t even need to try and you’re already putty in his hands just like four years ago.

“take care of me, toji, please,” the last bits of your plea comes out as a whisper, desperation and lust mingling together. you tenderly play with the hair at the back of his head that’s growing long and he lets you. he lets you because he’s been waiting all this time, “i want you to fuck me until i forget about all this.”

toji closes his eyes at your request, “be careful what you wish for, baby,” and he’s right because he’s got you crying out for his help as you try to fit him in you while he just coos. need my help? and you’re nodding, sensitive from the many times he’s made you cum in order to prep you for his cock. it’s huge, the first time he fishes it out of his trunks and you think that you might wanna wait for next time until he’s stroking himself and groaning in that deep voice of his.

“relax for me, sweetheart,” he mumbles, fingers rubbing lightly at your clit to get you to relax, but his hulking figure from above you is intimidating to the maximum as he inches into you on your living room couch. it’s the most risky the two of you have been, and it’s rewarded well when the high ceilings of your place echoes your joint moans.

“t-toji—” you whimper, knuckles probably white from how tense you were grabbing on his forearms. the stretch from his tip is already painful that you can only hope you’ll be able to take all of him — toji is slow  — he tells you to breathe, he massages your thighs as if it’ll do anything, but your cunt is still tight after all and the way he spreads you open just sends chills right down to his dick.

“you got it, doll, just a bit more—” he coaxes you and he wants to do away with the rubber altogether, but he’d wait for you. he’s rubbing the legs that were propped on his shoulders, eyes boring into yours. “take that cock like a good girl.” 

once he bottoms out, though, your jaw falls slack at the deepness, pussy stretched to accommodate him while the cover cushions get wetter than the minute from your chlorine-filled bodies. none of you care when the house starts smelling like it, too concentrated on how toji spits once and pulls out halfway — you whine endlessly — and pumps his cock and the second time, it’s rubbed into your clit.

“how does that feel?” he grunts, meeting your eyes and then down to your connected bodies where it still hurts a little.

“stings . .” you mumble, but on top of that, you’re noticing how your body twitches at every single thing toji does. it’s never been like that with other partners, it could have just been forever since you’ve actually received dick and it also could be your developing feelings for the older man, but you’re not one to jump to conclusions right away.

“it’ll go away soon,” he kisses each ankle softly, and onny when he gets the green light from you, he’s rocking into you, body hovering over you with the same hulking figure you remember years ago. the same scar upon the left of his lips, the jet black hair, the confident smirk — it only makes your heart (and pussy) clench up.

“oh?” he grins, “i felt that.”

your mouth twists in displeasure that you can be read like an open book so blatantly in the eyes of your father’s best friend, but you forget about it soon enough when he pushes his body deeper into you, and in turn, your legs are right up to your chest.

“t-toji . .” you’re also wishing the condom wouldn’t be in the equation, but it was the first time both of you had any courage. your nails dig into the skin of his forearm, grasping and scrambling for him to get closer. “it’s t-too— big.” you’re crying slightly, eyes glossy from the mix of pleasure and pain that envelopes you.

toji, while still worried about you, can’t help but let his ego shoot up at that, but he’s already wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

“you can take it, yeah?” he encourages, hot breath just fanning over your lips, “can’t you take daddy’s cock?” 

you hum, doe eyed and mouth parted and toji wants to keep this memory locked away forever. the familiar surroundings of all the nights spent here, and now he’s fucking you just like he wants to.

“y-yeah— yes, daddy,” you pull at his nape, indulging you in a deep kiss that’s got you moaning into his mouth. you’re relaxing more, now, allowing him to move — but toji’s thrusts are anything but gentle when he starts and you need to break from the kiss to whine loudly.

“tojiii—!” he simply hums, guiding your legs around his waist while the house starts to echo with noises of skin slapping. a hand slips between your legs to rub at your clit and your back arches off the sofa, giving easy access to your tits on display.

bikini pulled down, toji latches his mouth onto nipple while he slams into you, intoxicated on your hypnotising pussy. his grip is so strong that you don’t even notice your sensitive body, hand smoothly sliding under your pretty arched back, pulling you up. 

“w-wha . .”

“can’t i look at my pretty slut while i fuck her senseless?” he says it so casually, like you’re some hooker he paid to have fun with, but you’re not even coherent enough to form sentences, let alone think about what the two of you are. “it’s only natural when she looks so fucked out, don’t ya think?” 

his thrusts slow down, much to your dismay, but now he’s grinding his pelvis into your pliant pussy while he puts your legs back onto his shoulder. toji hits all your sweet spots, naturally, and he continues his ministrations on your clit roughly, driving you to the brink of your threshold and bringing you back in.

“look at how i fit in you,” there’s a certain awe in his voice when he looks down and you follow his cock that moves in and out, in and out, gathering your slickness all along his shaft that it drips down to your ass and stains the sofa covers — at least it was white. “can’t believe you’ve kept this pussy from me for so long.”

you whimper, hips moving on its own accord to meet his devastatingly slow thrusts as you speak, “it was always there, just— i didn’t think you’d have any interest in me—”

and toji only groans at that discovery (“you were my best friend’s daughter, of course i wasn’t gonna make a move until i knew you were okay with it.”), pelvis picking up the pace to show you just how much and often he’s been thinking of you throughout these four years. the soft, tame pants that leave your mouth are no more as he snaps his hips into you roughly. his stamina is like no other and you try your best to catch up but at this point you’re just being manhandled.

chants of daddy, daddy, daddy are all that’s left on your lips, head thrown back even when he picks you up like you weigh nothing and readjusts the both of you along the long side of the sofa. he at leasts can relish in the cushion of the couch while he watches you squirm from his fat cock, hands grabbing at air for his presence. 

“w’nna . . i wanna cum, toji . .” you mumble when he’s close to you again, memorising how his black hair feels against your face while he litters kisses along your neck and jaw, of how the dip of his skin feels under your thumb as you brush against the left side of his mouth, because you’re not sure you’ll get another opportunity like this. “feels s’good—”

“yeah?” he mumbles, full on pounding into you while holding your legs open for him. he’s close to climax too, dick twitching and pulsing in you and you swear you can feel every ridge and vein of his length. “’m close too, doll.”

the obscene squelching noises of your wet pussy reverberates throughout the living room, and together with his needy groans and your high-pitched whines, you’re driven over the edge with a sharp cry from your lips. his hand is the culprit, haphazardly rubbing messy circles into your puffy clit and continuing even past your orgasm. toji’s jaw drops when he watches your body convulse under him from the overstimulation, back arching so far up and your legs that shake uncontrollably.

“attagirl, that’s it,” he chuckles at your sensitivity but his chest beams with pride knowing he’s seen you like this, holding your legs down easily while his hips never stop, but he’s close from the way his stomach tightens and your pussy seems tighter than usual. “hang in there—”

toji swears lowly under his breath, but before he can even bark out a warning to you, he’s cumming into the condom, body hunched all over your own as his hips still. the gruff groans only turn you right back on, faintly feeling the sensation of toji filling up the rubber and you wish it was all in your pussy.

“f-fuuuck . . fucking god—!” toji’s chest heaves from the intense orgasm, one that he’s never felt so vividly before until you. with one last kiss to your waiting lips, he mutters praise to you, loving how he can feel your cheeks warm. it’s then that your bodies have no more space in between, cock still buried in you while he only holds you from above, body weight just a little heavy for you.

“i’ll need to feel those thighs trembling around my ears next time,” toji jokes, relieving you of his heavier mass and laughs out loud at your confused look.

“that’s such a weird way to ask me to sit on your face . .” you giggle, letting him flip the two of you over before your words are cut off again by an intrusive whimper. your clit’s still sensitive, and the slightest brush against his pelvis can sends shudders down your spine all over again. toji loves it.

“will you grant me the pleasure of experiencing it now?” and before he can even mumble another smart comment, you’re settling right on his face and he looks almost ready to die under your pussy. all he mumbles is how pretty your pussy looks from this angle, before making you regret ever teasing him, mouth working wonders until you’re exhausted and toji’s had his fill.

[2crim2clove]

more thots

to ME they all go to UNC and lance is either a DKE or a Beta

monday after, lance is early which means they show up at the same time. george is practically buzzing, but he’s not sure he wants to know why. eventually she cracks and thanks him because carmen met someone new and she’s going to break up with her LDR and george is thrilled.

lance - oh that’s cool :)

george - it is! it means no more late night arguments, i can sleep!

lance - lol if that’s serious we should celebrate

and she’s like the ONLY place to celebrate i think we can’t walk to. but he’s like ‘uh i have a car on campus’ and she rolls her eyes at this. then he’s like ‘no please, lets go celebrate for real’.

they go get pizza and it’s the most animated he’s ever seen her, just popping out of her chair, thrilled over splitting a pepperoni pizza and some garlic knots.

friday he sees fernando outside of a dorm. he waits until george comes out, and she’s dressed very chic-ly but also kinda like she’s going to a job interview.

lance ends up at a party, meets a girl visiting her friend, fucks her in his room and accidentally says george’s name when he finishes. luckily the girl is like ‘huh’ but his next door neighbor is banging on the wall and lance blames it on being annoyed.

the following week, the main library is shut for an alumni function. they go to a smaller study space but it’s very loud and george notices lance cannot concentrate. she packs them up and takes them to her room. she has a double with carmen, with lily in the room across from theirs ‘but she doesn’t have a roommate this semester, it’s a weird situation’.

she and carmen have their desks set up head to head - actually cute - but a screen up and down the middle of the room because ‘carmen talks too loud' and it shows a lot more of her personality. they actually get quite a bit done there, and a test grade comes through on his phone and he got an A and george forgets herself and hugs him.

fernando and alex (lance’s big) convince him to go to an intern fair and george is there and is very excited to see him. she chats his ear off about how fernando connected her with the right people for her summer and it may even be in new york city! she’s never been and he actually gets interested in an internship not at his dad’s place

lance stays over for thanksgiving, as does she. she, carmen, alex and lily all end up at the frat house for dinner after being asked nicely and it’s fun. it’s just him, fer, and hinch who stayed but the alums always pay for a hugeeeee dinner. when they move to the football portion of the evening, she stays and picks the team opposite lance and argues with him the whole time. they end up watching a movie after football and george dozes off on his shoulder. apologizes after because ‘carmen keeps arguing with that bloody bf and i’m stressed about my exam’s.

after this, fernando nudges him that a-way. ‘but wait til after her job is done’.

reading day happens and it’s chaos and carmen is still arguing with her bf so george comes over to the frat house. once their time is up - lance sets a timer so he will be sure - he hits on her. she takes his pillow and smacks him with it, says she’s not a whore and then runs out of the house like a bat out of hell.

lance: idk why u hit me our ‘time was up’ and i like u a lot lol? like u make me feel like i’m good at this and shit haha

she doesn’t respond but she is outside of his exam room before his exam at like 7 AM bright and early. she holds up her phone ‘are you serious’ and he’s like ‘yeah’ and she kisses him in front of everybody, tells him good luck and to text her when he’s completed ‘the beast’ aka. his final exam. it’s something like Microeconomics that george took her first year because she’s crazy

he finishes and it’s like it all came to him at once. when he gets out, she’s there, backpack on. they get breakfast and then they both have afternoon exams at the same time so they go to the library to study. this time, he’s the one waiting for her.

go back to the DKE house because ‘my room exploded, i’m so tired’ and most of the guys are chill. she signs in and then hinch catches lance to ask him to help get someone out from under the couch (it’s a long story) and by the time he gets upstairs, there’s george, in his favorite letters. dark red long sleeved with little maple leaf fabric making up the DKE, she has no pants on and is sprawled on a bed that had no sheets on it when he left. because he wanted fresh sheets and was going to pay alex five bucks to make his bed when he got back from his test (alex would do it because that’s his little and he treats lance like a baby)

he thinks it’s sexy that he has his letters on but also knows she’ll flip her lid if she finds out she shouldn’t really be wearing them.

she wakes up when he accidentally slams the door and stops him. ‘no outside clothes on the nice bed’. he obeys, even goes and washes his hands, and when he gets up there, she cuddles up. ‘sorry but i’m so tired'

’s’okay, we’ll take a nap'

they do so, and about an hour later, they wake up because she has to pee and comes back and after how up and down things were, a little making out, a little handjob, and before they can get into it alex knocks on the door. she uses lance’s boxers to clean her hand off and waves awkwardly at alex - the first time they meet.

‘you must be george.’ ‘did he talk about me?’ ‘yeah, said he probably should make his bed in case you changed your mind. i ragged on him because it was unmade. but - ‘ ‘i have to be out by 9:30, i know. i read all of the rules!’ alex grins at this.

‘i’m gonna take you to get pizza now.’ and it’s cold for her so he sticks her in his favorite hoodie, she puts her leggings back on and then they go.

doot doot doot

forced to get tutoring from someone everyone else calls a genius, a gr6398 at gmail as their email. signed george.

he’s early because he went to the library early to study and fell asleep

wakes up to someone putting their shit on the table next to his head LOUDLY

and a girl with golden brown hair up in a neat bun, bangs, and brown rimmed glasses tips them down at him. “you’re lance.”

this was odd, did he send his girlfriend or was this a library employee? that made sense, why else was she english? “yeah?"

sticks her hand out, back straight. he offers a fist bump and she sighs, sticks her hand out further. “i’m george."

this has him sitting up. “uh -"

“yes i know it is traditionally a boy’s name. no i do not want to explain nor do i want you to call me by my full name. it’s george.” very stern.

“‘kay. still lance.” he tries a flirty smile but she sits down and doesn’t catch it. “didn’t expect for my tutor to be english."

“this school is full of international students."

he laughs at this. “i know, my best friend came here so i followed him. he’s french. you know him, esteban?"

this gets him a very curious look. “yes i know esteban. wouldn’t have stuck you two together.” a frown. “why isn’t he tutoring you?"

“um, didn’t want to put him in a weird place where i’m paying him and he feels like he can’t actually force me into shit?” she gave him a flat look at this. “not like you’re gonna have to force me or whatever, but y’know, he’s my bestie. you are …"

“the other person who gets as much aid as esteban does to come here. i mean, it’s clear why i would -“ she stops herself and opens her notebook. “besides the point. we’re here to talk maths, not talk personal lives. i have a reputation and a tutoring schedule and a life, so lets not get distracted."

it’s a rough start, she doesn’t let him slack, but once they start, she seems to be everywhere on campus. at the gym, in the same buildings, in the union, even in the same off campus coffee shop, but here she’s clearly tutoring someone else and being annoyed by the main barista with bleached hair and an english accent. he figures out she only wears her glasses when she’s studying, and has about five pairs she rotates between.

two months in, he invites her to a frat party. “you and like, whoever. if you want.” he doesn’t know if he really wants her to come, she’s kind of an asshole, but he’s inviting everyone he knows and it’s like … polite?

she does show, and it’s a toga party and hers is … barely kissing her thigh, so much skin that is somehow tan for it being october. she is, however, essentially chased into the house by one of the brothers from another frat, a much shorter girl in a similar toga laughing across the lawn, and then the guy with bleached hair and what’s clearly his gf follow her in, yanking the random dude out.

he loses them for a bit after that, asked to help seb move something, and when he’s back, the graduate frat brother that he really liked, fernando, is talking to her in the corner of the yard. She’s on one of the tables so they can be eye level, listening intently over her red solo cup that lance hopes is the jungle juice with the nice vodka and not the keg that he’d had smuggled in here. fer is definitely too old for her, but he’s flirting hard, tugging the pins out of her hair so it falls around her face and it’s styled and lance’s kinda mad it’s not him doing it.

when she sees him watching them, though, she stands up and essentially runs out of the party, her tiny bike shorts on display.

about two minutes later, the guy from the other frat pops his head over the fence, a horned headband on. “s’george here?"

lance’s tempted to say who, but fernando shakes his head. “no, she said she’d left someone asleep in a lando’s room."

a big, doofy grin. “i’m lando."

“yes, she said there was a luisa in your room she was supposed to bring?”

this has the guy flinging himself away from the fence and yelling for someone named carlos.

“george, she is cute, si?” fernando asks as he heads back inside. “she is letting me take her to dinner.” a comment flung over his shoulder.

“when?"

it’s only this that has fernando stop. “lance, that is your tutor. she’s allowed to have a life."

“not an answer!” but calling after fer is useless, and lance finishes his drink.

that night he dreams of long, tan legs against white fabric and wakes up hard and miserable