#these were fun to write hehehe

[nsfwjjkwritings]

I don’t just want but NEED Geto and Gojo poly relationship headcanons please. I would owe you my life

ask and you shall receive ;)

-

Geto/Gojo

• Geto and Gojo are the perfect partners to have together in bed. They are never competing against each other, their entire goal is to work as a team to make sure you’re unable to walk after they’re done with you. They’ll push you to the absolute limits, until the pleasure they’re giving you is so intense and overwhelming it becomes somewhat painful. There has been multiple times you’ve had to tell them that you can’t take anymore, that you’ve lost count of how many climaxes you’ve been brought to and you don’t know if you can handle another one.

• Lots and lots and LOTS of praise and affection fall from Geto and Gojo’s lips when they’re fucking you. Geto will have you bent over while Gojo is putting your mouth to work, both of them showering you with compliments about how good you’re taking them. “Doesn’t she look so pretty with my cock in her mouth, Suguru?” Gojo will purr, and Geto will nod in response, his eyes fixated on the way Satoru’s cock is sliding in and out of your lips. Suguru will match Gojo’s pace, pushing you forward with his thrusts so you can take his friend’s dick deeper. Geto likes when you begin to gag from the sensation of Gojo’s dick hitting the back of your throat because it makes your pussy clench, and the feel of it is absolutely addicting to him.

• One of their favorite things to do is lay you on your back, Gojo fingering you while Geto plays with your clit. Their eyes never leave your face as they work together to make you come, although occasionally they’ll forgo the eye contact and start making out while they’re playing with your pussy. They moan into each other’s mouths knowing that the sight of them will only serve to make you even more wet than you already are. When they think you’ve come enough times on their fingers, they’ll dip their heads down and lick up your arousal together. They always share a heated kiss after they bring their heads back up, savoring the way they can taste you on each other’s tongues.

• The pair of them are absolute masters of aftercare. Geto will run you a hot bath while Gojo cleans you up and grabs you some much needed water. They know you will be sore in the morning after such vigorous treatment so they always make sure to have muscle-relaxing bath salts on hand. Gojo will carry you to the bath and tenderly put you in, and Geto will gently brush the tangles from your hair while you relax in the tub. Once you say you’re ready to get out, one of them will fetch the towel they threw in the dryer and wrap you in it. Geto and Gojo will cuddle you all night until you all fall asleep, which usually happens within minutes due to all of your energies being completely depleted.

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. A redraw of the official icons of the ten named slugcats from Rain World, arranged in two rows: Survivor, Monk, Hunter, Nightcat, and Gourmand in the first, Artificer, Rivulet, Spearmaster, Saint and Enot/Inv in the second. Each is drawn in roughly the same pose as in the original art and fitted with speculative interpretations of their biology, and the second image is a “dead” version of this. For example, all ten have slug-like rhinophores in place of ears, cuttlefish-like colorful eyes with strangely-shaped pupils, cephalopod-like beak "teeth", expressive barbels or oral tentacles at the corners of mouths, spiny radulas, and the frilly mantle fringes of sea slugs, though otherwise their faces are squishy, simple and mammalian-shaped.

Cream-colored Survivor and yellow Monk both share triangular, bicolored spots matching their eyes (which are tan and brown, and two shades of blue, respectively), small, bumpy fringes, and relatively neutral looks on their faces. Defensive-looking Hunter is mostly a dull orange-pink, though their blobby fringe is a more violent red and their back is purple and marred with lumps. Nightcat is navy blue and flecked with dots of yellow and teal, their rolled rhinophores are a lighter blue, and their shading fractures into stars in some places. Gourmand is almost uniformly tan, their wide, very ruffly white mantle fringe bordered by a spray of white spots, and their beak sticks out from either corner of their smile. Primarily red Artificer, snarling, has yellow markings of multiple sorts, a prominent yellow dewlap and their characteristic dark scar taking out a chunk of its face. Rivulet is a darker blue than usual, with long barbels, red gills and rings, countershading, and a cheerful expression, sticking out their radula. Spearmaster is purple with orange accents, eyes and spots, a large fringe and spines down their back. Saint’s green caryophyllidia are marked by small, yellow diamonds, and their long, thin radula extends far below them. Enot is decorated with mottled red stripes, blue patches, yellow stars, and an uneven and almost cartoonish imitation of blush, though generally the same deep blue as Nightcat, a passive or almost slightly smug look on their face and their rolled rhinophores out to either side.

In the second image, nine of the slugcats’ eyes are crossed out, indicating that these are death icons. They look fairly the same, with mostly expression differences. Survivor is caught in the beginning of a threat display, a karma flower sprouts from Monk’s side, Hunter is burdened with overgrowing, purple and blue rot, Nightcat’s rhinophores are pinned back, and Gourmand looks mildly disheartened. For the final row, Artificer bites its radula between small plumes of smoke, Rivulet drops their expression, Spearmaster looks very startled, Saint looks almost entirely the same besides half-open eyes and their markings greater in number, and Enot grins confusedly. End ID]

If you'll excuse the unusually lengthy ID: the arena meme introduced by @pansear-doodles at long last after a nearly year-long wip status (or, rather, finished a month ago today to honor my own first time playing it!)

Design notes and shout-outs under cut! :]

The following people are some of those who’ve inspired my designs most since I started this eight months ago (or just inspired me to get a little weirder with slugcat biology), among many others for sure, and I thank them for it–but this is simply to bring attention to artists I find cool, and in no way an obligation to interact or anything :]

> @saturncoyote , @carpsoup , @charseraph , @gallusgalluss , @bitsbug , @dopscratch , and @0hmanit (and a special mention to dddeerbo and hunterlonglegs, who’ve since deactivated)!

Survivor: Surprisingly the hardest to pin down the colors for, since nothing with its sibling's palette seemed to match up right (I did have to add in a little blue somewhere for Monk, the beginning of making it clear how much I’m simply going based off of vibes for the colors of scug innards). I consider them, Monk and Gourmand to be part of the same gene pool of slugcats, and even possibly the same colony even if the latter isn't really related, so took a bit of Gourmand's coloring and fit them in with their inspiration: Goniobranchus verrieri. They serve as a bit of an introduction to my ideas of scug traits (i find it really fun how many people have thought to add so many silly sluglike fixtures of biology completely independent of me, buuut here I’m mostly talking about species variation), and like in-game they’re pretty average! They, Monk and Hunter have a couple scars sourced from a piece of Joar's concept art that I'm failing to find, those across the bridge of the nose, under the eyes, and across the rhinophores, respectively, and my Survivor interpretation features many on the back of the neck, as a result of survived lizard bites.

Monk: Their coloring is primarily based off the fact that I associate them with blue fruits, honestly, a bit because I was compelled to establish a familiarity with Rivulet, and lastly inspired by the spots of Goniobranchus kuniei (and geminus, less important to me as one of my characters is a kuniei instead, but more fitting). Between the yellow + blue and the circular marking in the center of their face, they’re meant to bear a little resemblance to an iterator that shares similarities with the characterization I’ve given them, and similar coding of her sibling can be seen on Survivor’s markings around the eyes. As both a “default” slugcat and one whose campaign I haven’t played, though, I can’t say I have much more to point out about em.

Hunter: The whole rot thing made for a really fun time drawing them, and while the color change on their back is a result of this, it’s also an excuse to relate them to Babakina festiva, arguably my favorite sea slug (mostly for sentimental purposes). And to Spearmaster, a fellow messenger slugcat, and it serves as a gradient between Hunter’s pink and the “traditional” color of Rot seen in the DLLs. Aside from their affliction, they’d actually be the plainest in terms of design, as they don’t have any patterns or quirks of body type, just the red + purple and strange lumps + possible malnutrition. I can’t remember if NSH had created them in particular or just...caught + released or something, but it probably wouldn’t be strange for a lab-grown slugcat to be simple like that.

Gourmand: Like the two above, they’re rather plain in terms of coloring and adaptation, and like the two above, I find that fun. I decided it would be nice to avert the “all slugcats being of the same body type, and Gourmand’s out of place as the exception” thing by just...adding more fat to all of them, really. I did want to emphasize their sheer bulk even so, both fat and muscular (not like I couldn’t have still gone further with it, of course, but slugcat anatomy can be a little obfuscating sometimes, and they were intended to look rather plush considering personal size headcanons and therefore the lack of proper gravity), and the thick and flounced mantle looked like a good addition, as per their sea slug Glossodoris hikuerensis. Unlike Survivor and Monk, I didn’t attempt to hold their resemblance to any particular other character (which means a little less to balance out the “default gene pool” thing), so those are all the design notes I have for em.

Artificer: The second slugcat I’ve ever played, or finished the campaign of, my favorite for at least a long time, and the first thing I did was give them yellow accents, the shape of which have troubled me slightly (not quite like the spots or stripes of the others). They’re both a little more appealing and more explosive-looking to me, and considering how early on I played Arti, actually present in some of my older art. It does give them a little resemblance to Saint (completely intentional, two slugcats with strange relations to karma), as well as the fact that its radula is green for familiarity with one of its children (at some point it was going to have all-green markings, even!). I’m generous with their scars, partly because it was fun to overemphasize the one on their face and partly because it does seem like a reckless slugcat, on top of the dangers of its explosive abilities–I’ll probably just keep adding more forever. Mostly-red sea slugs aren’t too common, but Hexabranchus sanguineus works for sure. The ridged, yellow dewlap can expand for combustion purposes, or something along those lines. Arti’s where I began experimenting with a lot of the mildly-offkilter features seen in my interpretation of slugcats, as they’ve once again been a favorite from the start.

Rivulet: I've obviously given other slugcats spots, deeply enjoy the bubbly-soda markings of other peoples' slugcats, and thought seal riv would be cute. Despite not too closely resembling it, they've been government-assigned Hypselodoris bennetti, for color reasons and for a couple sentimental ones. Originally, the colors of every scug were meant to match up with the custom colors I gave them at the beginning of their campaigns, (though Arti, Gourm and Spearmy are the only three who actually apply here, since I've only played through half the slugcats: I gave arti the yellow as mentioned above, gourm brown eyes and spearmy light pink spears, furthered by the outskirts pearl accompanying me and that palette all the way to moon. Tolerance training for eternity in hell cause I already knew about the maroon pearl quest). I initially gave them the colors of the bi flag for fun... but with the limited palette of this image, I was left without pink for a while and decided to see how they'd look in red. I then realized how they now wonderfully matched Moon, and besides, red's a sort of camouflage in deep water! As a side-note, the difference between their eyes and those of others always bothered me a little for anatomical purposes, and the cephalopod eyes were probably influenced by this!

Spearmaster: Inspired as much as possible by @notyourfunnyman ’s wonderful spearmy: designed in a way that helps it fit in with scavengers, at least between the long sensory tentacles, big ruff, back spines and slightly thin/distended anatomy, a form of defensive mimicry. I always had annulate rhinophores in mind, for a little diversity sure, but mostly because the shape reminds me of radio antennae and communication towers (seems fitting for the comms array and being a messenger slugcat)! I started searching for a real-life slug to give them just by looking up their rhinophore shape...and was met immediately and coincidentally with annulate-topped nudibranchs that fit them more perfectly than I could've imagined: Flabellina and surrounding clades, I think Paraflabellina ischitana works very nicely. The orange was completely unplanned, but there wasn’t a place for light pink among the other slugcats’ palettes, and importantly it likens them to both Hunter and Seven Red Suns a little more.

Saint: I am very much a non-furred slugcat enjoyer, with respect to those who aren’t, so figuring out the only visibly furred slugcat was an interesting challenge. I’ve decided that they likely have other, milder adaptations for help in the cold, mainly just more efficient fat storage, and what looks vaguely like fur is instead a bunch of tubercles (called caryophillia, for the second reminder out of three). Their inspiration doesn’t have these, however, Miamira sinuata’s numerous yellow and blue spots (not to mention...whatever’s going on with that shape) and general effect of being the only really green nudibranch I could find were probably perfect for a strange green echo. Not pictured, but their beak-teeth are tiny and flat to make a surface for grinding soft food against with the lack of a functioning radula, which is tipped with a specialized spiny “grapple-hook” for better traction/grip (not to mention the numerous little teeth running down the whole thing).

(Best part of hiding this under a readmore means edits will be seen by all reblogs, I'm mostly sure, because I completely forgot to mention! The spots on their forehead are simple eyes. Their camera eyes appear closed in-game, I like to believe their complex eyesight is rather poor anyways or otherwise reason that they aren't seeing out of those, and while this was far from her REASON for attunement with the world, it does help compensate for mainly viewing it through a canvas of simple light and dark. This, and the fact that their swapped-out "fur" is not only to commit to a lack of hairs but contributes to sensory input!)

Nightcat/Enot: I guess you could say I found the “these two are technically the same person” compelling. (E.g. similar colors, both very strange and enigmatic, and Enot/Inv/Sofanthiel’s remark during the dating sim about getting removed from Arena Mode.) I doubt they’re the only two slugcats in their body, considering humans with DID tend to have more than a few (and I find it very funny that a slugcat bearing resemblance to Nightcat appears in Gourmand’s ending. They’re allowed in the colony and Enot isn’t </3), and I have to credit @faelingdraws ’s art for being what convinced me on it! Their design inspirations come down to trying to balance a few different ideas: making the patterns and palettes of both look oddly similar (special mention to the stars, since those are fun to draw), basing them off of Felimare sechurana and juliae respectively, using blocks of color with the same placement as in Enot’s official art, and specifically making Enot look...biologically reasonable and imperfect, whilst also clearly trying to imitate human displays of emotion (what with...the eyes and blush on that one piece of official art).

Lastly, here’s just a lineup with notes on body shape and size. Most of the nicknames (existing to give a little more space, that’s all) are obvious, and while I can’t remember why I shortened Nightcat to Nox, it is in honor of my friend by the same nickname :]

[lovesoakedd]

went to my first queer event (other than dyke and pride march) in like... two years? and it was SO good oh my god. it was basically a carabiner event when you could make keychains and such. and as soon as I got there, I spotted another girl who was alone, and once we realized we both came by ourselves, we sat together and yapped for the entire event :""") and we agreed to go to future events together EEEEKKKK

[valleymyristica]

i wonder if dev will be sad when dale finally dies. after all, no matter how bad he treats dev, he's still his father

Oh, he will be very sad indeed

After all that Dev is bound to go through, having a loving parent, someone proper to count on, that's something he truly wants

It's something he's always wanted

Yes, Dale might not be perfect, but at the very least Dev knows how he works and the worst things he can do

He understands Dad

He knows Dad is mostly just busy

Dev does care for his father, especially if he feels like Dad is trying to get better

Well, hopefully it won't be a gruesome one And hopefully Dev doesn't have to see anything of it

Then again, what is it we say about hope? It's not always compatible with reality, isn't that so?

[lilacthebooklover]

monty n felix (kg) either 16 or 47 plz?

i'll do you one better- why not both? <3

16. "It could be worse."

Felix is busted, and bruised, and betrayed, and bereft. He sticks beside the wheelchair boy with eyes full of hate and a fate cursed by his own bloody hands, and wishes things were different. They’re lonely. It’s their own faults. Wheelchair understands, his legs mangled and burning resentment alight in his eyes. They know of unexpected pain; the agony of their arrogant mistakes. Permanent injuries from those they thought they could trust. 

“It could be worse,” Wheelchair tells him, dry and hollow. Felix resents the notion. The gritty, determined optimism he can’t replicate stings sharper than that fall ever could.

47. "No-one needs to know."

Monty’s no stranger to secret deals. He’s grown used to hiding merchandise in his pockets, swiping illegal products for his shadiest buyers with a sort of grim, resigned determination. Felix Huxley is rich, and influential, and his company is far too successful to have avoided any corruption.

“Excellent,” Felix says, the handshake firm and filthy. This is necessary, Monty reminds himself. “I trust this will be kept a secret?

“No-one needs to know.” Monty confirms, voice low and hushed.

The chemicals stay in his jacket pocket, and Felix dismisses the matter like nothing happened.

It’s routine. It’s awful. 

It’s necessary.

[fruitybashir]

keeping the tradition of posting a few teasers for the upcoming chapter hehe ✌🏼✨️

[littencloud9]

OKAY OPTIONS TIME!!!

kunichuu + 18

tanitachihigugin + 33

montcott + 29

(i picked random numbers so sorry if they suck lol)

hehe HI COREY!! TY FOR THE OPTIONS I AM EATING THEM

18. a kiss while laughing

"And," Kunikida continues, leaning over Chuuya's body and attacking their face with another kiss, "that's for being an amazing partner all around. And that's—" another kiss, this time on the nose, "—for looking after Kenji today, and—" "Please!" Chuuya gasps in between their laughter, huffing over and over in a lame attempt to catch their breath. "I get it! Mercy!" Kunikida grins, burying his head in Chuuya's shoulders. He noses along their neck and they squirm away, spilling into another fit of giggles. Hands push weakly at his chest, and Kunikida knows Chuuya can push him off with ease if that's what they really wanted. So he continues his tirade, peppering Chuuya with kisses everywhere until their voice begins to crack. When Kunikida pulls back, his partner stares up at him with a wide, toothy smile. There are tears in the corner of their eye from laughing so hard. It's one of the most beautiful noises in the world. Kunikida wants to hear it forever. "I love you," he blurts out, unable to help the affection spilling out of his chest. Maybe years ago, Chuuya would've shielded themself from such a pure, unfiltered expression of love. But now, they simply laugh again, cupping Kunikida's cheeks and pulling him in for another kiss. I love you too, goes unsaid, but it's heard.

33. a kiss to a scar, birthmark, injury, or other marking. featuring higuchi with tourettes. for you <3

Higuchi nearly drops the pan she's holding when her shoulders shrug, making her wince. Her tics have been acting up the past two days, but she had an important mission last night and had no time to rest. It was a bad decision, in hindsight. She sets the pan back down on the stove, gritting her teeth when her shoulders jerk again and a bolt of pain shoots through her body. Jun'ichirou's the only other person in the kitchen with her. He glances at her, tilting his head. Higuchi assumes he's going to point it out (it'll make it worse, but he probably doesn't know that, and God she doesn't want to deal with the explanation right now but—) "I'll handle the veggies," Jun'ichirou says, walking over. He nudges Higuchi aside, gesturing his head to the living room where Gin and Tachihara are playing games at. "Go get Michi to set up the table, please?" Higuchi's voice feels stuck in her throat as she nods, hurrying off. She gives the message, and Tachihara tilts his head back with a groan. Still, he obliges, jumping up and giving Gin a quick kiss on the cheek, exactly where their beauty mark lies. Higuchi sits down next to Gin, glancing at their phone. It looks like some sort of shooting game. Before she can ask, Gin turns the phone off, putting a hand up to her shoulder and massaging it gently. Higuchi's eyes well up with tears. Gin doesn't point it out—they never do unless absolutely necessary. They reach for Higuchi's hand, kissing along her wrist, where a light scar remains from an old mission. There's a sudden yelp from the kitchen and roaring laughter from Tachihara. Higuchi and Gin share a fond smile, leaning into each other as they wait for their partners to finish preparing dinner.

29. a kiss to the back of the hand

"Don't fret so much," Lucy sighs, plucking the pen away from Louisa's hand. Louisa jumps, so immersed that she didn't even notice Lucy walking in. She wasn't using her ability, but she'd still be able to hear if the door opens, so her mind must've been really lost. Lucy wordlessly pulls her up and Louisa's vision goes blurry for a moment. As she regains it, Lucy combs fingers through her hair, smoothing it down. "...Where are the others?" Louisa asks, searching for a clock. Time has always been a hard concept to grasp, especially since she joined the Guild. "We're celebrating Mark's birthday soon, right? Is it dinner yet?" Lucy shrugs. "He can wait. You're too tense. We need to get you loose and relaxed for the party." "Party?" Louisa mumbles, shaking her head. "I don't want to dance later." "Mm, I know. How about now, though? With just me?" She considers it. That would be nice. When she nods, Lucy gets down on one knee, holding onto her hand. She brushes her lips against the back of her hand, peering up at her through long eyelashes, and Louisa's heart stutters. When Lucy smiles, it's like the world stops moving. "May I have this dance?" She tightens her grip as she replies, "Yes."

[rcgersromanoff]

you already knew I’d be in here for the writing thing — NEXT!!

hehehe i knew you would

next= i write the next line from my current project, which is a post-canon friends to lovers ficcy::::

He puts his feet up on the dash, as always, and Bradley doesn’t bother telling him not to. Might as well let him be the only person allowed do that as well as drive the damn thing. The radio comes to life as Jake scans through the stations and settles on something slowish, and he taps a rhythm into his thighs with his hands. “Fun night?”

Bradley nods, eyes on the road. “Definitely. Really makes me hope Ice was serious about the brass keeping us as a squad.”

“About what?”

“I didn’t tell you that?”

“You’ve been holdin’ out on me!”

[mirrortouchedsea]

Day 9

Kaname needed to get out of the rain, already feeling chilled to the bone. As much as he wanted to keep moving, the rain made it impossible to travel safely. He squinted and tried to find anywhere that might offer shelter before his eyes settled upon a mostly still standing chapel. With its roof mostly intact, it was better than any of the other dilapidated buildings around and he would be able to hang his clothes to dry somewhere inside. 

Upon approaching the stairs leading to the chapel, he noticed that the doors and windows were also undamaged, at least in any way that would allow for zombies to get inside. Someone must be maintaining the small building, and all Kaname could hope for was that they would let him stay until the rain moved and maybe until his clothes dried. At most a day or two if he was lucky. 

Kaname called out into the chapel but there was no response. There was a pit in his stomach, mind racing to the worst possibilities, which only got worse as he searched through the building. It looked lived in, a small cot in a room behind the altar and a shelf that looked like it held food at one point were found, alongside a small fire pit towards the back of the chapel. There was a small stash of firewood and a lighter next to the pit and Kaname briefly thought about lighting a fire to warm himself up and dry his clothes off, before realizing he could barely start a fire on his own. The past few weeks he had eaten mostly cold foods that didn’t need to be cooked and relied on blankets and clothing he came upon to keep him warm. 

He still peeled his jacket off and laid it over the back of one of the pews back in the main room of the church. His shirt, pants, and socks were also soaked but he didn’t have a change of clothes so he was stuck in them for the time being. Maybe the other person who lived here, if they hadn’t already died, would have a spare change of clothes for him. He set his bag down on the ground and laid in one of the pews. 

--- 

The sound of footsteps approaching woke Kaname from his sleep. His immediate reaction was to fight back, sitting up and springing forward at the body in front of him, hands gripping at its throat ready to tear it open. The body, no, the person beneath him grabbed at his wrists and tried to pull away. Its--their hands were warm, calming Kaname down just enough to loosen his grip on their throat, but not enough to let go entirely. There was a bag of spilled food on the floor beside them. 

Who are you, Kaname asked, still straddling the other figure. My name is Tatsumi Kazehaya and I am only watching after this church, the man responded. There was blood on his clothing, which Kaname only vaguely recognized as what a priest would wear. Kaname mumbled an apology and let go of Tatsumi’s throat, offering him a hand to pull him to his feet. Tatsumi smiled and accepted it before asking Kaname what he was doing here. I was just passing through and needed somewhere to wait out the rain, that’s all, will you let me spend the night? Of course, that’s why I’ve been maintaining the church, to offer shelter for the lost. 

Tatsumi picked up the spilled food on the floor, likely picked over from an old convenience store or something as it was mostly junk food. Not that it was easy to come across fresh fruits and vegetables anymore. Any food was good food right now. He motioned for Kaname to follow him and finally asked for his name, which Kaname only told him his given name, deciding to listen to his brother’s advice and not give out his family name. Not yet, anyway. Kaname was generic enough to not raise any eyebrows anyway. 

Kaname hated how easy it was to fall into conversation with Tatsumi. He should be keeping his guard up in case the other man was hiding his true intentions, but they ended up together by the small fire pit, Kaname’s clothes drying next to them as he warmed up in the spare set of clothes Tatsumi had given him. The knit sweater was not his style, but he couldn’t exactly turn it down unless he wanted to get sick. He already felt a cold coming on as it was, there was no need to make it worse. 

Tatsumi apologized for not having any better sleeping accommodations, offering his own pillow and blanket for Kaname to use, which he accepted, though the nights would be cold and he was strangely worried about the other man getting sick as well. Kaname spent the night curled up next to the small fire pit and Tatsumi went back to his cot. 

--- 

The next day, his clothes were still damp and everything outside was muddy. Not what Kaname would call ideal traveling conditions. Tatsumi had said he could stay as long as he needed though, so another day or two would be nothing. Kaname was still wary of the other man, though after sleeping through the night without waking was a welcome change for Kaname, as nights on the road often lead to sleeping in bursts. The exhaustion in his bones was finally starting to set in and it hurt for him to sit up. 

By the time he was up and moving, he was visibly wincing in pain. Tatsumi told him to sit down, he would go find something to ease the aches for a little while, but he should take it easy. Kaname obliged and laid back down, though this time on one of the pews again. But now he had time to think. Was his brother looking for him? Would it even be worth it to keep moving? What if he had already missed his brother because they were both traveling? Maybe it would be better if he stayed with Tatsumi, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about missing his brother that way. 

Tatsumi came back some time later, though Kaname had lost all sense of it since everything started. Had it been a few minutes? Hours? It didn’t matter. Tatsumi knelt by him and offered him some pills and a glass of water. It’ll help relieve the pain, he said. Kaname swallowed the pills before laying back down. Tatsumi told him to just get some rest, he would take care of everything else. 

--- 

Days turned to weeks and Kaname had made himself at home with Tatsumi in the small church. The two of them would look after travelers and give them a place to sleep for the night. At some point, Tatsumi had taught Kaname how to keep their wards up, which were what protected the church and made it impossible for zombies to find. With Kaname’s name entered into the wards, he would also be under greater protection from them. 

Once a week, the two of them would venture out past the church in search of food and clean water, as well as picking up anyone who needed shelter. It was on one of these weekly outings that Kaname was injured. 

He still wasn’t sure exactly how it happened, he just remembered seeing something move out of the corner of his eye before jumping in front of Tatsumi and taking the hit of whatever it was. Not for nothing, Tatsumi had told him afterwards that Kaname had given him enough time to take it down, which was worth something in Kaname’s book. He had woken up just a few moments later to Tatsumi tending to his arm, covering it in bandages and saying something about medicine. It would be almost impossible to keep the wound completely clean but he’d do what he could for Kaname. 

The concern etched in Tatsumi’s face made something click in Kaname. Even though they had been living together for some weeks, he still hadn’t felt like he could trust him, and yet he had still subconsciously jumped in front of immediate danger for the man, who in turn made sure he was going to be okay. Maybe he could finally be safe. 

[queenofbaws]

Welp it's finally here. Sunday has arrived which means it's time for this week to end and for the final entry of these lyric prompts. And whether or not you decided to listen to any of the music that they lyrics came from (muchless the entire playlist that started this silly little thing lol) as long as you got even a little bit of fun and joy out of this than that's all I can ask for 🥰

'I think I'm going nowhere like a rat trapped in a maze

Every wall that I knock down is just a wall that I replace

I'm in a race against myself, I try to keep a steady pace

How the fuck will I escape if I never close my case?'

There hadn't been a wall there before.

The thought came to her, unbidden and unmistakable, causing her to freeze in place; it was, she knew, her body's natural reaction to surprise - to seeing a flicker of movement outside her window at night, to feeling a ridge in her molar she couldn't remember her tongue ever having touched before - but that knowledge didn't make it better, and neither did it calm the rising wave of panic threatening to overtake her lungs.

Erin glanced to her left, her right, then gingerly reached out until her fingertips pressed against the wallpaper, the damask designs slightly spongy with age, yet (and this was where her relief should've kicked in) the wall beneath it solid as stone. She wasn't sure what she had expected...some sort of stress hallucination, maybe, the confused, cognitive concretion of Charlie's constant belittlement and whatever had just happened between her and Jamie: She was running on too much coffee and not enough sleep, letting her imagination and irrational fears run wild and unchecked because of it - walls didn't just pop into existence, she knew, they didn't appear and disappear whenever they felt like it, that was just...stupid.

Still, as she turned right around to head back to her room, humming her private little song under her breath in hopes of pushing those other thoughts away, Erin heard something click quietly behind her.

And then footsteps.

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

[galaxirin]

17 or 18 for djurador ihqdfsalihafsdlihadfslihqfweiucbnuwbcvdhrkehrgivywer7qliewdylikwea

Hehehehehe

Link to the prompts

17. …to distract

A crowd gathers around Djura and Brador, throwing coins and other miscellaneous items in a drunken stupor. The bar was calm an hour prior, but due to a few drinks in the house, bets, and a challenge, it has turned to chaos.

Brador smirked, clenching his fist around Djura’s. “What do you say? Will we give them a show or will you back down?”

“You’re kidding right?” Djura barked out a laugh, the alcohol making him twice as loud as he would be. “To finally arm wrestle with you? How could I ever back down!”

The crowd roars, saying their names in unison depending on who they betted on. Some even started to bang their fists on nearby tables, increasing the tension of the scene unfolding before them.

“I’ve got a trick up my sleeve then.” Brador winked and gripped the table in preparation.

“Don’t tell me it’s a knife.”

“It’s not!”

The bartender, fully engrossed into the showdown, waves a handkerchief between the two men.

3!

2!

1!

Before Djura could even start the arm wrestle, he felt warm lips pressing against his own, rough facial hair rubbing against his skin. Djura couldn’t even let out a gasp in shock before he felt his tongue. Bastard. And it wasn’t long before he felt his fist slam against the table in defeat.

Brador pulled away and cheered. He was promised a week’s worth of beer and blood for that arm wrestle and he clapped the backs of those who betted for his victory. But before he was to gather his prize, he looked back at Djura and smirked.

Djura flushed red and pulled down his hat, sobering up from the kiss. “Damn you…!”

[joelswhcre]

hii i absolutely love your content, your writing style is just AMAZING

could u please do one where joel finds the reader like pleasuring herself because he’s busy and she doesn’t want to bother him and he finds her and takes over?? HEHEHE i just think the concept is sooo hot omg

────۶ৎ you shoulda told me, baby

joel’s been busy all day and you didn’t wanna bother him. so you take matters into your own hands. he walks in right when you’re about to cum.

warnings: smut, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, a bit of praise, possessiveness, cumplay, slight dom!joel.

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: baby when i say this ask had me kicking my feet n screaming you just get it omg. i had so much fun writing this filth for you. thank you for the ask and compliment! hope you enjoy!

more

ᖭ༏ᖫ

you hadn’t meant for him to see.

you’d waited. tried being good. tried keeping your hands to yourself, but joel had been working all damn day—tools clanking in the garage, shirt damp with sweat, face set with that focused look that made your thighs squeeze together.

you hadn’t wanted to interrupt. not when he was busy. so instead, you crept back into the bedroom, legs weak from need, and flopped down on the bed.

slid your hand under your shorts.

just to take the edge off.

your fingers were slick in seconds, brushing over your clit in slow, teasing circles. the needy little gasps escaping your lips sounded desperate, but it didn’t stop you. your mind wandered—imagined his hands instead, rough and wide, his voice low in your ear telling you what a mess you were making.

two fingers slid in, easy from how wet you already were. you arched into the feeling, thumb rubbing your clit just right.

and that’s when you heard it.

the door.

you froze.

“well, well,” joel’s voice was rough, thick with something dark. “could’ve just come to me, baby.”

you stuttered, legs still open, fingers caught between your thighs.

“d-didn’t wanna bother you—”

joel was already across the room, already dragging those ruined shorts down your legs. “sweetheart, you botherin’ me is the best part of my day.”

his hands were hot, greedy. spreading you wide open. his eyes dropped to your soaked cunt and he groaned low in his throat.

“fuckin’ drippin’, huh? all this ‘cause i was workin’ too long?”

“mhm—” you tried to answer, but his mouth was already on you.

his tongue was slow, firm, dragging through your folds like he was starving. he licked up every drop you’d made, groaning like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

and then his thumb pressed against your clit, fast little circles that made your hips jerk.

“joel—fuck, joel—”

“you needed this bad, huh?” he muttered, voice slurred with spit and cum. “shoulda just told me, baby. i’ll always take care of you.”

his fingers replaced yours, two thick ones sliding in deep, curling just right. you clenched around them instantly, needy little whimpers falling from your lips.

“god, that tight little pussy,” he grunted, watching your face. “so fuckin’ greedy.”

you were so close—he could see it, feel it. and he didn’t stop until you were coming hard, clenching around his fingers, slick gushing out with a filthy squelch.

but he wasn’t done.

he stood, unbuckling his belt, jeans hitting the floor. his cock was already hard, thick and flushed, tip shiny with precum.

“gonna give you what you really needed,” he growled.

and he did.

he pushed in slow, stretching you open inch by inch, and you moaned like he was the only thing you’d ever needed.

“fuck, you’re full,” he hissed, bottoming out. “takin’ me so well, baby.”

he fucked you hard—deep, relentless thrusts that had you crying out, nails dragging down his back.

“gonna cum inside, fuckin’ fill you up,” he growled against your neck. “let you drip with it after. show you who you belong to.”

and when he came, thick spurts of hot cum flooding your pussy, you swore you saw stars.

ᖭ༏ᖫ

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

[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. 

[burrito-fight]

admiring from afar - RAVEN!NEIL SOCMED AU

part one || prev part || part five (you are here!) || next part

part six

admiring from afar socmed au masterpost || part one || prev part

side socmed au stories you may have missed, linked below! (feel free to send in asks ab any scenarios you want to see)

kevaaron at the fall banquet ft. an unassuming seth

twinyards crackposts/texts

jean babysitting natewes for the first time

okay bcz writing kevaaron is sm fun bcz they're both feisty bitches like 'hissy cat' energy idk how to explain it. ALL HAIL JEAN MOREAU, TIRED FRENCHMAN AND MATCHMAKER EXTRAORDINAIRE. (according to admiring from afar lore, jeremy has been around the ravens through social media since he was a freshman and he and jean have an entirely obvious crush on each other). also andrew + neil going to sweetie's on friday for their 'date', kev visiting aaron on friday in columbia... hehehe. also the french translation for the texts: 'that aaron?' 'i already thought you were an idiot, but this just proves it.'

taglist: @bluehairmisfit , @snowcoming , @little2nerdy , @minyard-05 , @heartstringgs @andrew-03-minyard , @neilsleftpinky , @vannyinthestars , @andabuttonnose , @motherfunkies , @iheartblondes , @03junkie , @leestars13 , @jjjosten , @hidinginmyhands , @tedious-malcontent , @ohfallingdisco , @twin-yards , @graveyardviolence , @youdontknowhowtodiequietly , @evenfallreads , @luxxbean , @jean-yvesning , @marauders-bs , @post-historical-posts , @afidiofobia , @saphritalks , @fly-in-amber , @williamluvr , @lesbiansforkevinday , @min-getoutofmy-yard, @umm0lly sorry if i missed anyone! <3 comment here or on the main post to be added to the taglist or send an ask or rb with tags that say some version of 'i wanna be on the taglist' :) <3

don't forget to like + reblog <3

[moonstruckme]

Hey Mae, you wrote a Spencer smut blurb a while ago about him helping reader speak up in the bedroom and at the end it mentions him using his handcuffs on reader. Just wondering if you would write a followup to that heheh 🌚

Thank you for requesting babe ;)

cw: smut mdni, bondage, slighttttt dom spencer but not really it's a collaborative effort haha

Spencer Reid x afab!reader ♡ 652 words

You make an involuntary whimpering sound. 

Spencer lifts his head to look at you. “You okay?” 

“Y…yeah.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Very sure.” 

Your boyfriend’s look softens. “Okay. Try not to sound so distressed, please? It makes me think you’re not having fun.” 

“Sorry.” You want to tell him that you’re not having fun, but you are, really. The bite of metal into your wrists is a welcome, if frustrating, restraint. 

“You don’t have to be sorry, sweetheart,” Spencer assures you, voice turning slow as he lowers his lips back to your shoulder. The brush of his knuckles against your inner thigh is enough to make another whimper rise in your throat. 

The handcuffs were your idea. You don’t think bringing work into the bedroom would have ever crossed Spencer’s mind, but your stomach had flipped excitedly when he’d locked them over your wrists. He was careful not to make them too tight, told you to say something if they started to rub your skin wrong, but you sort of enjoy the pressure of them each time you tug against the bed frame. 

Spencer’s curiosity is just as fervid in the bedroom as it is out. He takes his time with you, cataloguing each movement and sound. Your breath hitches, and he tilts his head, an academic. Scientific fingers explore every curve and bend. 

You’re seeping arousal from between your folds before he even gets there. 

“Spence,” you plead.

“Hm?” 

“Can you just—” You can’t say it. You know Spencer appreciates plain language, but you can’t make yourself. You push your hips up, hoping he gets the hint. 

He does. He smiles, the asshole. “Can you be patient? I’m getting there.” 

“Today?” 

“Okay, fine.” Spencer laughs as he pushes two fingers into you, their path slick and easy. You gasp in surprise. “Is this what you want?” 

“Please.” 

“I told you I was getting to it.” His voice gentles. He touches his lips to the side of your throat, fingers moving slowly in and out of you. Curling. Gently, so gently. “You know you do better when we build up to it.” 

You almost miss the days when Spencer was still shy around you. When sex made him nervous, when he didn’t know your body quite so well or feel so confident in how to make you tick. 

He’s right, of course. 

“I’m—ahh…”

“Yeah, I know.” Spencer kisses the flat of your chest. Doubtless feeling your erratic heartbeat. “You never like it when it’s happening, but you’re happy afterward. You’ll thank me.” 

It’s not violent, your undoing; Spencer takes you apart gently, with careful fingers, and then swallows the cry that escapes you like it’s his favorite flavor. 

Your wrists are lined with agitated circlets when he pushes into you. You’re well worked open by then. Time is lost to you. You gasp and roll your hips, desperate to grab him, your fists curling around nothing. 

“Hey.” Spencer’s thumb presses over your pulse, a barrier between you and the cuff. “Relax. Be careful with yourself.” 

His lips are parted, pupils blown but eyes soft with concern. You love him. It’s not the first time you’ve thought it, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve said it, but suddenly you feel it achingly, urgently, tearily. You love him you love him you love him. 

“Come here,” you beg him in as nice a voice as you can. 

Spencer listens, because he always listens to you, really, even when you’re all tied up and helpless and probably a little delirious. His mouth covers yours with reassuring warmth. 

“Still okay?” he asks, just to be sure. 

“Yes.” You press towards him, kissing his chin, his jaw, his sweaty cupid’s bow. “Oh my god, yes.” 

“Okay.” Spencer links his fingers through yours. Pushing you back, but staying close to you. You shudder at the contact. “We’re okay.” 

“Just stay here, please.” 

“Where do you think I would go?” 

[g4rvez-r3id]

Naughty Boy

Post Prison! Spencer Reid x Unit Chief! Fem Reader

Synopsis: You and Spencer are trying to have a little fun in secret until Emily walks in… Spencer decides to make it a little more interesting underneath your desk.

Category: Smut

Warnings: established relationship, power dynamics, reader and spencer keep their relationship private so it’s a bit of forbidden love trope, kissing, smut warnings: lowkey sub!spencer, and also lowkey perv!spencer, spencer has a boner, straddling, stroking, cunnilingus, getting caught, exhibitionist kink? fingering, cumming in pants, use of ‘sweet boy’, ‘good boy’ and ‘naughty boy’, spencer lowkey pathetic- idk that should cover it

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! lowkey this one kinda sucked but i wanted to write a smut oneshot 🤭 got this idea watching a sitcom lmao anyways post prison sub spencer supremacy 🛐 debating on writing a part two to this one where reader punishes spencer hehehe let me know! please enjoy this one!! <3

A lot of changes happened since you’d become unit chief of the BAU. It wasn’t your intention of becoming unit chief but Emily Prentiss believed otherwise. She passed down the tassel to you since you’d had so much experience on this team for years. And she also knew Hotch would’ve wanted it, too.

After Barnes tried to take the BAU down, Emily was given back her job and hiring authority. Feeling as if you’d earned the spot, she promoted you. Of course, you were a little anxious taking charge at first but Emily assured she’d stay every step of the way and even offered to take over when you felt the power to be a bit too much.

You and Spencer’s relationship had become more balanced since he got back from prison and you felt the need to keep your relationship under wraps for as long as possible. Nobody knew you two were together, you both were very careful when it came to your relationship. You’d only been dating for a year and a half since he got back from prison where he’d finally confessed his undying love for you and that he’d show you just how much he loved you when he got out.

You’d both been pining after each other for years before the fact. And since then every moment you’d shared together has been wonderful, despite keeping it hidden from your colleagues. It was for the better, especially now that you were a higher power. If it wasn’t strictly forbidden before, it definitely was now that you were unit chief.

You were lucky that you’d chosen someone that was usually good at keeping secrets. You both never arrived to work together, you both left work at separate times and only ever spoke in a professional manner to one another. Of course, nothing too far as to not speaking to each other entirely. You were surprised that no one had suspected a thing for the year and a half you’d been together.

Today, you were in your office, filing everyone’s paperwork and signing off on them one by one. You’d just finished JJ’s when there was a knock on your door. “Come in.” You spoke and behind the door had been your loving and doting boyfriend.

“This a bad time?” Spencer asked as he waited for your okay to come in. “No, no, not at all. Come in.” You smile and turn towards your already closed blinds. If you hadn’t already closed them, it definitely would’ve looked suspicious if you closed them now.

As soon as he shut your door, you stood up from your seat with a sly smirk and walk over to him. “So, what can I do you for?” You ask. “Oh, nothing, I just—” Spencer rests his hands on your hips. “I just missed you.”

You smile as you hold him close. It’d been a minute since you had a moment together. Cases were often disrupting already what little time you two had together.

“I missed you too, my love.” You say, looking into his eyes with a loving smile. “Why don’t we go out for dinner tonight? I’m working on the paperwork now so I won’t have to stay here too late tonight.” You suggest and he smile right back at you. “I’d like that. We could use a date night.”

You pull him closer to kiss you on your lips and as you pull him flush against your body, you feel it. It’s definitely unmistakable that he’s hard in his pants.

“Uh, baby?” You ask, pushing him a bit. “Yeah?” He asks as he leans his head down towards his collarbone. “Are you… hard just from a few kisses?” This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten an erection just from a few simple kisses from you. He pretty much gets turned on by anything you do. And you secretly love it.

“I can’t help it, Spencer admits into your neck. “You’re gorgeous.”

You blush at his words and smile, “Aw, thank you, my love.” His mouth stays on your neck, sucking on your pulse point. You pull him towards your chair and push him into it, getting on top of him and straddling him with a smirk etched on your face as you lean down and kiss him on his lips.

He tries to speak into the kiss, pushing you away for a brief moment. “Wait, wait, wait.” He says and you look down at him, your index finger tapping on his plump pink lips, staring down at them. You had a bit of an oral fixation when it came to Spencer Reid. Whether it was for yourself or for him.

“What’s wrong?” You ask. “I just don’t want us to get caught, that’s all.” Spencer stated and you smile, “I know, sweet boy. But you let me worry about that, okay? Right now, I just want to take care of my boy.”

You run your hand towards the front of his slacks and palm his hard cock through his pants. He moans a little too loud and you are quick to clasp your free hand over his mouth. “If we want to this to work, you’re gonna need to be a good boy and be quiet, okay?” He nods vehemently into your palm.

You stroke him a few more times through his pants and you check and see that your sweet boy’s eyes are rolling to the back of his head. You wonder how long you can keep him on the edge, how long you can make this until he’s shouting that he can’t take it anymore, how much he’ll—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You and Spencer look at each other in horror before you quickly usher him underneath your desk and fix yourself up to the best of your ability, sitting in your seat. Surely, you could’ve explained that Spencer was just in here for a moment but you acted quickly and couldn’t risk whoever was coming in to talk to you to see what you two were doing. You two didn’t exactly have the best poker faces in the world.

“Come in.” You say, attempting to sound as normal as you can. The door opens and in walks Emily. “Hey, Y/n. Care if we talk for a moment?”

“Of course, come right in.” Emily nods, shutting the door behind her and sitting in the chair in front of your desk.

As Emily begins to talk with you about your most recent case paperwork and begins on giving you pointers on how to handle it quickly, Spencer is crouched underneath your desk and he has a perfect view up your skirt.

You’re too distracted with Emily being in the room to feel how his hands — his gorgeous hands — glide up and down your calf and they begin to reach in a higher place and you flinch as his nimble fingers touch your underwear.

Your eyes widen as Emily furrows her brows at you and seems to notice you’ve flinched. “Are you alright?” She asks and you nod, “Oh, yeah, super. Just too fidgety today,” You hold up your mug. “Too much coffee.”

Emily continues her advice as you feel Spencer removing your underwear down your thighs. You don’t see how he stuffs them in his pocket. He bunches your skirt to the best of his ability and you look down just for a brief moment to see that he’s become in a trance as he gawks at your wet pussy.

You’re so lucky that your desk is too high up for Emily to see what you two are doing. This is so wrong. You should definitely try and stop him but the fact that he could be caught underneath your desk — it just turns you on even more. Who knew you were such an exhibitionist?

“Another thing that I recommend that you do is—” You hardly listen to Emily as you try your best to give your undivided attention to her but it’s really difficult when the man you love is underneath your table, lapping at your pussy with his useful tongue.

You feel everything as he begins to suck on your clit and sticks his fingers into your hole and you try your best to keep a straight face. You bite your lip and try and keep yourself as hunched over as you can to not draw suspicion.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Emily asks, once more. “Uh, yeah,” Your cheeks redden. “I’m… just not feeling very…” You feel as he rolls his tongue in a figure-eight on your bundle of nerves. “Well at the… the moment.”

“If you need to go home, I can take over the rest of the day.” Emily offers and you think about it. You definitely need the time to punish your sweet boy for being needy and impatient, so maybe going home would be a good idea.

“Uh, that’s probably a good idea.” You say. “Why don’t you let the rest of the team know?” Emily nods and leaves the room and you wait for the door to shut to finally gasp and whimper.

As Emily exits the room, she walks away from the door and shudders. Yeah, she knew what the hell was happening. The team pretty much knew you two were together already. You guys didn’t have the best poker faces in the world.

“Oh, you naughty boy.” You back your seat up a bit as you run your hands through his hair. He takes his mouth off of you for a second to breathe. “I like seeing you in an authoritative position. It’s sexy.” With that, he dives back in, running his tongue through your folds again.

You take your hand through his locks, pushing him impossibly deeper into your pussy. “Oh, my God!” You exclaim softly, eyes rolling back as he finishes you off. “Come on, cum for me. Please. Please. Baby, please.” He pleads in your pussy, moaning and sending vibrations through your body as he sticks his fingers back inside.

You bite your lip to contain your moans in your office and you feel yourself gush over his face and look at him, his eyes blown with lust and love. “Did I do good?” Spencer asks, wiping his mouth of your essence and you smirk.

“You did.” You admit. “Now, that Emily’s gone, maybe I should finish what we started.” Spencer looks down and shakes his head, “No, I, uh, actually don’t need help with that anymore.”

You furrow your brows, look down and sure enough, Spencer’s slacks are a shade darker near his crotch. You should’ve expected this, he’d cum at the slightest touch.

“Somebody definitely wants to get punished tonight.” You tease, dragging a finger to his chin and he holds his arms up in surrender. “Hey, sorry I wanted to look good for my boss.”

You shake your head with a chuckle. He can be so impossible sometimes.

So, you tell him to exit the office as discreetly as he can with his blazer over his crotch to hide the evidence and to call in for the rest of the day, making an excuse that there’s a bug going around so you can edge him for hours on end when he gets to your apartment.