#(And maybe even fucking longer) (I am going to take my fucking time with this stash)

[rememberwren]

Skin Deep

Tattoo artist!Simon x fem!reader. Reader, looking to expand her horizons, gets her first tattoo from Simon. 8.4k. Features: soft!Simon who is bad at people-ing, vaginal sex, lots of nipples, like at least three nipples, poor writing, abrupt transitions, shy and awkward reader. Based on this post.

-

“I bit the bullet!” you shout over the music, hand cupped around your friend’s ear to be better heard. She shrieks in delight at the sound of your voice, turning to wrap her arms around your waist and pull you close to her swaying body. Many eyes in the club follow her movements. She has always been the wild child to your wallflower, attracting attention wherever she goes.

“You bit what?” she shouts back, her breath like a mint julep. 

“The bullet,” you laugh. “I called that guy you recommended and set up an appointment. For the tattoo I wanted!” 

She stares at you blankly. Her silky little tank top is drooping off of one shoulder, so you reach out and tuck it back into place. The longer she stares, the more nervous you grow. She’d been so encouraging after your last boyfriend dumped you—encouraging you to step outside your comfort zone, to ‘make more mistakes’, to live life more fully. Now she’s staring at you like you’ve grown a second head and it’s the one doing the talking. 

“What guy I recommended?” she asks. 

“Kevin!”

“Oh no. No, no, no. Not Kevin. Not Kevin. Why, Kevin?” 

You frown. “You said you went to Kevin.” 

“It wasn’t a recommendation, sweetie, if anything it was to caution you away from him! He’s a creep; there’s a reason why I never went back.” 

You deflate like a balloon, going limp and letting her drag you to the nearby free seats at the bar where you sit heavily. It’s not just the tattoo. It’s the icing on a shitcake of a day. 

A new song seamlessly starts, and the dancers nearby go wild with excitement. Your mood is the antithesis of the event; everyone seems to be having a great time except for you. Story of your life. 

“You conveniently left that out. Ugh. I’ll cancel it. What am I even fucking doing—thank you—” you accept the cup of ice water the bartender slides in front of you with a shy smile, sipping at it and keeping your hand curled over the top of it protectively. “—none of this is like me.” 

Your friend frowns. She steals your drink and sips at it. “You were the one who said you’d always wanted a tattoo. You’re an adult. These are exactly the kinds of decisions you’re old enough to make. Look, fuck Kevin. All my friends hate Kevin. I know another guy, and he’s highly recommended. Let me give you his number. Alright?” 

“Alright,” you sigh. You make a silent promise to yourself though: if it doesn’t work out with this next tattoo artist, then you won’t be getting one at all. You’ll take it as a sign from the universe to get back in your comfort zone and stay there, once and for all. 

-

What kind of a moniker is Ghost? you wonder to yourself as you skim the Instagram of the shop this Ghost owns. The profile picture is one of the building itself, and all of the pictures are of various inked body parts. Beautiful ones, admittedly. But no hint of the mysterious figure who owns the shop. There is a personal instagram linked @GHOST89 but it is private when you try to click on it. 

The phone number your friend gave you rings straight through to voicemail. You let out a shaky breath. Fuck, you hate voicemail. Talking to people was difficult enough; talking to people’s disembodied machines was even worse somehow. It isn’t until you’ve hung up after leaving your message that you realize you forgot to tell him your fucking name (genius!). Groaning, you contemplate dialing him back when the phone in your hand rings—and it’s him. 

“Hello?” 

“I’m free Wednesdays for consultations,” says a baritone voice from the other end of the line. 

Nice to talk to you too, you think dryly. Maybe this guy is as bad at the phone as you are. “I work Wednesdays. Are you free in the evenings?” 

He sighs, like this is going to be very strenuous for him. 

“Name a time. I’ll pencil you in. Half is due at the end of the consultation upon booking an appointment. Cash only,” he says. 

Jesus Christ, could he be anymore abrupt? While a tiny part of you is grateful that he isn’t trying to make small talk, a larger part is terrified that you’ve already made an impression so foul that it’s incurred his wrath. What other reason could he have for being so stilted? 

“Alright,” you answer cautiously. “How’s five?” 

“Five. Don’t be late.” 

He hangs up on you, leaving you wondering why every step outside your comfort zone must be so bloody far.

-

You arrive early to the consultation, only to find that the building itself—a tidy little brick two-floor, adorned with a sign that dubbed it SKIN DEEP tattoos & artisan piercings, which you recognize from Instagram—is locked. A note written in neat handwriting taped to the door declares NO WALK INS. Your palms are sweaty. You wipe them on your work slacks, but it doesn’t help. How are you supposed to get in? 

All at once a shadow appears on the other side of the door. The shadow is enormous: well above six feet tall, and broad shouldered. A black surgical mask is tucked up over his mouth and nose, which only adds to his intimidating aura. Judging by the impressive sleeve of tattoos he has, you imagine that this is the guy. 

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. And Ghost. 

Dark brown eyes stare down at you when he opens the door, cocking a hip against the frame, staring at you. Waiting. 

Waiting for you to explain your presence, you realize. 

“I have a consultation,” you blurt out. “At…five?”

He opens the door wider to let you pass without a word. He’s so broad that you can smell him as you pass him: clean and masculine. The inside of the tattoo shop is bigger than it looks on the outside. There is a reception area with a desk and a computer and printer. The glossy wooden floors are polished to shine, leading to an open floor plan. There is a small sitting area with armchairs, a wide sofa, and a table on which rests two bottles of water, a notebook, and a steaming mug of liquid.

“Sit,” he says, his voice the same deep rumble you recognize from the phone. He chooses the chair beside the mug. His body is so goddamn long, his legs lean and thick all at once where he stretches them out in front of him. He reaches for the mug and takes a sip—of tea, judging by the smell. “Name?”

You tell him, perching yourself anxiously on the other chair. He glances up at you, eyes raking over your posture. Suddenly he tugs the mask down to rest beneath his chin, revealing a full, pale mouth. A straight, noble nose. A pink scar stretches across his lips and up towards his cheek. 

“The water is for you,” he says. 

“Oh!” You reach forward and take one bottle, breaking the seal. “Thank you.”

“This is your first tattoo.” 

“What gave me away?” you ask with a weak laugh. 

He doesn’t laugh. “Everything. Is someone putting you up to this? This smells like Soap.” 

“What? No, of course not. I want this, I’m just, I’m an anxious personality. I promise.” You hesitate and then add: “I probably smell like soap because I showered this morning.” 

His mouth twitches. He leans back in his seat and sucks on his teeth, and you get the distinct feeling that he is trying very hard not to laugh at you. Why had you mentioned to him that you showered? What was wrong with you? Just as you’re comprising a list of things, he picks up the pencil and the notebook, opening to a fresh page.

 He asks what you want and God, that’s a harder question. 

You do your best to express your idea, but your words feel halting and silly. His pencil scratches rapidly at the paper as he listens in total silence—pausing only once, when you say that you want this to be a sternum piece. Only then does his pencil seem to hover over the paper, his dark eyes seeking you out and pinning you in place on the armchair. 

He reaches for his tea to take a generous sip and then continues writing. 

He asks a few pointed, concise questions (and you’re just thrilled he was actually listening), following your answers up with more scribbling in his notebook. At length, he shuts the book. 

“I think I see the vision. Give me thirty to sketch something and we’ll see if you want to book an appointment. Something this size, on your sternum could take more than one session, depending on how well you sit. How do you take pain?” 

“I mean, it hurts?” you offer. 

He stares. “Two sessions. Let me sketch something. Drink your water.” 

You think that maybe he’ll move to another room to sketch, but he just flips to a clean page and begins to work right there (drawing the mask up over his nose and mouth again). With nothing else to do, you can’t help but watch him. 

He’s handsome, in an odd sort of way. His brow is a little too low, his gaze a little too intimidating to be considered conventionally attractive, but you find him fascinating to look at, especially when he is so clearly in the throes of something he enjoys doing. It’s almost like watching someone have sex. The thought makes your face go warm. You pick up your phone, determined not to look at him again. 

“Here.” 

You glance up from your mindless scrolling. What he shows you is a beautiful rendition of what you had expressed wanting. There are a few key differences, and he patiently explains why he made the decisions he did. He didn’t make the changes because he thought your idea was stupid. He made them so the image would better fit the contours of your body. He made them because the ink will spread over time, and he wants the look to stay clean. 

His thoughtfulness touches you. 

“I love it. I want it,” you say, enthusiasm getting the better of you. 

“This is just a first sketch,” he says dryly, making that warmth return to your face. “I’ll text you a few variations this week, and we can nail down the final piece. You want to book?” 

“Yes,” you say, nearly buzzing. “I really want to book.”

He’s expensive—but judging by the book of his artwork that is available for you to flip through at the front desk while he quotes you a price and writes you up a receipt, he is more than worth the money. Fuck, he’s got skill. You thought that maybe his art style was too dark for what you wanted, but you found that he was able to adapt styles nicely. You just hoped this tattoo wouldn’t bore him to death. 

“Thanks again for meeting with me,” you say as he sees you out. “I’ll be waiting for your text.” 

“You’ll get it.” He glances past you out the window. It’s dark. “Did you walk?” 

“No, my car is just there.”

“I’ll wait.” 

And he does. His figure darkens the doorway until you have shut your car and locked the doors, temporary insanity making you give him a short wave. He raises two fingers and then disappears. 

-

You didn’t tell me this guy was cute, you text to your friend. 

GHOST? Cute? I’ve never even seen his face lol. He’s always wearing one of his masks. 

You chew over this information. Yes he’d been wearing a mask, but he’d lowered it for you. Did that mean something? Did it mean something that you wanted it to mean something?  

Masks are cute, you say. 

Fuck the tattoo artist!!!! she says. Maybe he’ll ink you for free. 

You’re terrible. 

You’re…thinking about it. 

-

Two days later, you squint blearily into the darkness at your phone after it vibrates on your nightstand. The time reads twelve past one in the morning. It’s from GHOST. 

The two images he sends are beautiful; enough to rouse you straight from sleep into wakefulness. 

I love them both, you tell him. But the second one is amazing. I think that’s the one. 

Keep your appointment. Ten minutes later (after you have already fallen back to sleep) he sends: wear something appropriate.  

And fuck, you didn’t even think of that. 

-

“You’re being ridiculous,” you mutter to yourself in the mirror, turning sideways to assess yourself. On the bed behind you are a series of button up shirts, all of which you have tried on at one point or another. 

“You are,” your friend agrees from where she lounges on your bed, scrolling on her phone. “Your tits are cute. Let Ghost see them.” 

The look you give her is the one the phrase ‘if looks could kill’ was modeled after, surely. She doesn’t even see it, so the effect is lost entirely. You turn your gaze back to the silicone nipple adhesive covers again, still stuck to their adhesive backing. You’ve already used one set of the pack of three, and they covered your nipple and areolas nicely, but still left you feeling so exposed. 

“Be glad you’re not going to creepy Kevin anymore,” your friend says.

“Very glad of it.” 

You felt reasonably safe with Ghost, but still a degree of embarrassment about your own body. Or perhaps that was too strong a word—it didn’t embarrass you, but it felt private. Baring your breasts to a near stranger (especially one you had a grudging attraction to) made your anxiety reach epic level proportions. 

“You should text him about it, see if he has any advice for you. He’s been doing this for years. I’m sure he’s seen it all,” she says—the first good idea she’s had all night, miles ahead of ‘Just let Ghost see your cute tits’. 

That night, you take her advice and text him, hoping you aren’t overstepping some weird artist-client boundary. 

I’m a little nervous.

You can cancel, is all he says. I’ll refund your money.

It’s not that. 

What is it? 

Not really accustomed to the nakedness tbh. There. You said it. Let him think you some prim priss; it was true. 

But all he said back was: how can I help?  

I don’t know, you admit. Then; sorry. I’m probably bothering you with this while you’re working. 

I’m not working. Five minutes later, when it seems as if you aren’t going to message back: I keep the shop closed to the public. One customer at a time: you. I’ll let my piercer know I’m with a client and not to walk in. I’ll keep you covered every moment I can. Better? 

Relief, warm and sweet curling low in your belly, you let him know: much better. 

-

You bring the pasties anyway. 

-

The day of your appointment, you are so nervous you are shaking. Now you know the truth behind the phrase ‘knees knocking together’, as you stand outside SKIN DEEP waiting for Ghost’s hulking figure to appear on the other side of the glass. 

When it does, he’s like a little punch to the gut. That black surgical mask is in place—typical for him, if your friend’s words are to be trusted—but his blond hair, cropped short to his scalp is riotous in a way that is adorably charming, like he hasn’t been able to keep his hands out of it. His black t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, and his jeans fit him nicely around his thick thighs. 

You’re horrified to find that your attraction to him has grown. Exponentially. Your friend’s words echo in your mind—fuck the tattoo artist, maybe he’ll ink you for free. 

“Hi,” you squeak. 

Ghost raises both his brows. He opens the door wider for you to slip past him. Fuck he still smells good.

“I’m still nervous,” you blurt out, hoping that speaking the truth out loud will help you feel better. It doesn’t. 

“That’s normal. You can back out at any time, but the earlier the better. Come look at the image and tell me if it’s still what you want.”

It’s exactly what you want, and more. 

“It’s perfect. You’re very talented.” 

He huffs a little, like you shouldn’t have said such a thing. 

The chair is a great leather contraption which reclines comfortably once he’s gotten you in it (after making you use the restroom first, during which you took the time to splash water on your burning face and double check that your pasties were in place covering all the cutest bits according to your friend). Simon moves around you, making preparations with the ease of someone who has done this work for many years. 

You fight the arousal that blooms in your belly at the sight of him doing such benign things as washing his hands, putting on gloves, opening fresh needles, preparing little wells of ink and sticking them to the movable cart with Vaseline. There’s just something about a person who knows exactly what they’re doing and who is able to do it with efficacy.

“Ready?” he asks at length. 

You nod, hoping your nerves don’t show on your face. Steeling yourself, you unbutton the shirt you’re wearing. His eyes follow your hands, but there is a detached, clinical sort of expression in them. He’s not watching a strip tease, he’s looking at a canvas. 

Finally, you sit in front of him in only the pasties, the shirt lax around your shoulders, and your sweatpants, socked toes curling in anxiety in your shoes. Without missing a beat, he leans the chair all the way back. Then he opens a fresh disposable razor and shaves you. 

“Am I hairy?” you ask, resting your hands oh-so-casually over your breasts to keep them out of his way. 

“Yes,” he says. Then his eyes flicker to yours. “Everyone is. Everywhere. It’s normal.”

“I’m just teasing you.” 

“Didn’t think you had the breath in your body left to tease me,” he mutters, voice nearly lost behind his mask as he carefully works the razor across your skin removing the baby-fine hairs from beneath your breasts and across your sternum. “You’re nervous, I mean.” 

“Would you take the mask off?” you ask on a whim. It had helped last time, to see his face. 

“No,” he says. He adds: “Sorry. It’s more sanitary f’you if I keep it on.” 

You get the feeling that he really is sorry—and that’s well enough. Some of the anxiety in your belly fades away. He would take it off if he could. The most anxious part of the process (baring yourself to a stranger) has already passed. Maybe now you can begin to relax. 

After cleaning your skin, he carefully lays the stencil and has you stand up to look at it in the mirror and make sure the placement is correct and holy fucking shit. It’s sexy. You’ve always been attracted to tattoos, and fancied the idea of getting one on your sternum for far longer than you’d ever admitted to anyone, but seeing it come to life gives you a rush you hadn’t expected. You feel so…badass. 

“Good?” He asks. 

“Very good,” you answer, sitting back down, hoping he ignores the way your breasts bounce a little as you do. He leans you back again and this time breaks out the needle gun.

But before he uses it on you, he carefully takes a clean towel and lays it over your left breast, covering the parts of you that are not nearest to his eyes. His gentleness and thoughtfulness go straight to your cunt. 

“Thank you,” you say softly. 

He just nods. The gun buzzes to life. “I’ll make a line and see how you feel. Last chance to back out without any souvenirs.” 

“I’m not backing out.” 

He clicks his tongue as if to say, It’s your funeral. Then he lays his hand on your sternum above your breasts, pinning you in place, and makes a gentle line. 

It burns more than you expected it to. There’s a sandpaper quality to it, almost like the rasping of a cat’s tongue. The pain is sharp and bright, but it isn’t overwhelming. In fact…a strange part of you sort of enjoys it. Maybe it’s the rush of endorphins. 

“Good?” He asks. 

“Good,” you squeak. 

You hear his quiet laugh, no more than an exhale of breath.

“Let me know when you need to break.” 

You don’t know how you feel about the way he phrases that: when you need to break. He adjusts his mask a little, leans over you, and gets to work. Sometimes the needles pass over a place that is more sensitive than the others, making you flinch. He pauses when this happens, eyes flickering up to your own, making sure you are alright even though he can likely feel the pounding of your heart beneath his hand. That hand on your chest, wrist just brushing the top of your breast, is a solid warm weight that seems to tether you back down to the earth as he lines you. He is very careful not to brush against your breast when he wipes away the excess ink and traces of blood, but you feel hyper-attuned to how easy it would be for him if he wanted to. How huge his hand is compared to your tit. Beneath the pasties, your nipples ache with tension, a tension that is mirrored between your legs. 

“Alright. Break,” he says, abruptly turning the gun off. He covers your exposed breast with another towel. “Take ten.”

He disposes of his gloves and disappears behind a curtain in the back, leaving you throbbing between the legs. Worming your phone free from your pocket, you scroll aimlessly, hoping to calm your raging hormones. He returns right at the ten minute mark, just as his cellphone rings. He glances toward where it rests on the table, but makes no move to answer it. 

“Do you need to get that?” you ask, offering him an out.

“No,” he says. “I make everyone leave a message. Weeds out the cowards.”

It had almost weeded out you, you think about telling him, but in the end you decide against it. He gloves back up. 

“Good for more?”

And so it repeats. 

At one point, he runs into a patch of sensitive skin on your ribs just overlaying the bone. It has you sucking in a breath through your teeth, eyes squeezing shut. It’s too late to turn back now you tell yourself; the only way out is through. 

His thumb gently strokes your sternum. 

“It’s rough. You can take it,” he says, quiet and focused. The buzzing of the gun never ceases as he tries to make his work as quick as possible, his words a little distant and distracted. “Just keep breathing. That’s it. Good girl.”

Jesus. Did he not have any idea what those words could do to a girl? A groan escapes your lips, and he clearly mistakes it for pain, because his thumb strokes again the soft skin over your heart, just above the curve of your breast. 

“You can do it. Just a little longer for me, and we’ll break.”

“Hurts,” you breathe, flinching again. 

He hushes you, surprisingly tender. 

“This is the worst of it.” This time, his thumb does brush the edge of your breast, making you suck in a gasp. He recoils, hand lifting away from you and curling into a fist. He rests that against you instead, taking away any further hope that he might brush his fingertips against you. You make it through the rough patch with tears in your eyes but no worse for wear.  

“Break. Ten minutes,” he says again, already shredding his gloves and moving to disappear behind the curtain. 

You call out: “Hey, wait—I’d rather just get through it in one go if I can. If this really is the worst of it.” 

“I need breaks too,” he says stonily.

You duck your head, feeling silly. “Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He vanishes again. 

He is late to return to you. Only by five minutes or so, but noticeably for a man so usually punctual and so demanding of punctuality in you. His face is stoic—what bits of it you can see from behind the mask—as he washes his hands thoroughly and preps his work station again. 

This time his hand keeps a very respectable distance from your breasts—a fact which you both lament and appreciate all in one. He works with single-minded efficiency, giving you his entire focus. You break once more, but this time he breaks in the room with you, stretching out his back and neck (giving you a generous glimpse of his belly when his shirt rides up, exposing cut abs and a happy trail you’d give your life to follow). 

“I think we could do this in one sitting, if you have nowhere else to be,” he mutters at length. 

“Eager to be done?” you wonder. 

He stares at you, expression flat, and says nothing. Nothing needs to be said. 

“I don’t have anywhere to be,” you murmur, staring up at the bright adjustable light that he has positioned over you. You hope he mistakes that for the reason behind any mistiness in your eyes, his rudeness cutting you deeply. 

So the two of you push through later into the evening, until you are sweating at your temples and the base of your neck from the continuous pain for so long. At last he lays the last gradient for the shading, sprays you down, and wipes you clean so very gently. 

“Go take a look. I’m going to cover it up.” 

It’s beautiful. Stunning, even. You let your shirt gape closed and cover the pasties, revealing a broad glimpse of the sternum tattoo, and it is the sexiest you have ever felt. It almost makes your eyes burn anew.

“I love it,” you choke out. “Thank you.”

“Can I take a picture of it?” he asks. “For Instagram.” 

“Sure!” It will feel a little like being famous, you think, judging by how much notice each of the photos on his Instagram garners. He crouches down on the floor to be at the perfect height, reaches out and gently adjusts your shirt. Parts of the tattoo are covered—the very far edges—but you can’t deny how sexy it is. Maybe he feels the same way. 

After he takes the photo, he posts it and asks for your handle to tag you in it. Then he says: “Let me cover it up. Keep it covered overnight, but tomorrow let it breathe. Keep it clean. Don’t do anything stupid to it. Understand?” 

“I understand.”

“And if you have any questions—text me.” 

-

You get home to find that Ghost’s personal account has requested to follow you. Thrumming with nerves and excitement, you accept the request and send one of your own, spending the night scrolling through his Instagram (so, so carefully to avoid any incidental ‘likes’). Plenty of the photos are of his artwork, still. But there are ones of his dog: a German Shepherd that is thankfully much more photogenic than her surly owner. There are three or four photos featuring Ghost himself, and only one has his full face in the picture. You find yourself staring at his fixated expression for longer than is respectable. 

-

Three days later when you find yourself panicking, you don’t text him like he asked you to. You call. 

Your skin is peeling off. Peeling. Off. The sight of it makes your stomach roll. The entire tattoo is hot to the touch, and the skin around it feels warm as well. Flushed. Is it supposed to hurt this much? 

The internet doesn’t help. The peeling is normal, sure. But everything else is suggesting that your tattoo could be infected. What sort of ink did Ghost use? Was it reputable? What if the infection reaches your bloodstream? You were too young to die! Your anxiety spirals like a plane with one wing, trailing smoke as it soars straight down, determined to take you with it.   

With shaking hands, you don’t even think about texting Ghost. You go straight to calling him, tapping his number in your phone and pressing it to your ear, listening to the ring. 

He’s going to send you to voicemail, just like he does to everyone else—except he doesn’t. All the sudden there is glorious feedback from the other end: a cacophony of voices and laughter, clearly some sort of gathering. 

“Yes?” Ghost says into the phone, as if that’s a decent hello. 

“There’s something wrong with my tattoo!” you cry. 

“Wait—get out of my goddamn way.” There is rustling, and then the noise decreases substantially. You can almost see him standing outside whatever bar his friends have brought him to, mask down around his chin, hand over his other ear as he strains to listen to you. “Say it again. Now I can fucking hear you.”

“There’s. Something. Wrong,” you say through your teeth. “With my tattoo!”

“Well? What is it?”

“It’s falling off, for one!”

He snorts. “That’s normal. That's why you called?” 

“It’s all swollen and hot. And it hurts.” 

Now that shuts him up. He sighs a little, switches the phone from one ear to the other. “Hurts how bad?”

“Worse than getting it.” 

“Fuck me. Alright. Meet me at the shop in…twenty?” 

“Twenty minutes from now?” 

“From when else?” He hangs up. Man doesn’t know the meaning of the word goodbye. 

-

The night is cool. You don’t bother with a bra, not when it irritates your tattoo so much. Pulling your jacket closed more tightly around yourself, you walk from your parking spot along the street to the tattoo shop. 

Ghost stands outside at the curb. His figure is unmistakable. He is smoking, mask down, the lit end of his cigarette a burning ember that flares bright in the darkness. When he sees you coming, he crushes the cigarette beneath his boot and opens the door to the shop, which is still and dark. He flicks on a light switch as he goes, casting the place in a warm glow. 

He’s dressed in his usual dark jeans and an obscenely tight t-shirt, his sleeve of tattoos on display. He leaves the mask down. His eyes are on your tits—or resting where your tattoo is beneath your clothes. 

“Well. Sit. Show me.”

You sit in one of the armchairs, your shoulders rising in defensiveness. “What, just flash you?”

“Nothing I’ve never seen before.” 

Gritting your teeth, you begin unbuttoning your shirt until it gapes open. You cup your breasts with your hands, maintaining your modesty while putting the tattoo on full display. He narrows his eyes, leaning down. His fingers reach out, but then he thinks twice and washes his hands. 

“I was smoking,” he says when you roll your eyes in exasperation. 

“You’re worried about getting the chemicals on my skin but not in your lungs?”

“Fuck my lungs,” he mutters. His fingers hover over your tattoo. “Can I?”

You nod. His fingers are cool when they gently prod and ghost along the edges of the tattoo, feeling for the signature warmth of an infection. “Any fever?” he asks. 

“Not that I’ve noticed.” 

“You feel warm, but I’ve felt warmer. I don’t think it’s infected. Have you tried icing it?”

“No,” you admit. 

“Ice will help. Just use something clean, for fuck’s sake.” As he speaks, his breath fans across your chest, making you shiver. He sees this, his eyes darkening. “When you called, I thought it was for me.”

“It was for you,” you say, brow furrowing. “Who else?”

He snorts, lips quirking. It tugs on the scar across his lips. “Forget it.” 

“Forget what?” 

“Talking about it goes against forgetting it.”

You groan, tossing up your hands. “You’re impossible.” 

He reaches out and jerks your shirt closed, hastily doing up a button. Your face burns as you do up the rest of the buttons—you end up having to backtrack and redo them because he was off by one. 

“Thank you for meeting me. I’m sorry it was for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing,” he says. “And I wasn’t doing much.”

“You were with friends,” you insist.

His eyes narrow. “Who told you that?” 

“I saw it on your Instagram tonight.” 

“Nosey.” 

“I could buy you a drink sometime,” you offer after a lengthy pause, your heart pounding loud enough to fill the silence between you. Are you really doing this? Are you really asking him out?  “Make up for the ones I lost you tonight.” 

“Maybe.”

God, it’s like he’s not getting it. Maybe you need to be bolder. Fortune favors the bold, doesn’t it? Your hands are shaking when they fall back to the buttons on your shirt. 

“Would you take one more look at my tattoo? Just to be…positive?”

He sighs and makes an impatient hand gesture. Your fingers fumble through the buttons again. You don’t cover yourself with your hands this time; just keep the halves of your shirt over your nipples. He dutifully exams the tattoo again, prodding gently, laying the flat of his fingers against it to feel the warmth it lets off. 

“Maybe you should look closer.” 

His eyes flicker up to yours. “Closer.”

Your mouth is dry. “Yeah.”

“Can’t get much closer than I am.” 

“You could—if you wanted to.” 

“If I—“ it hits him then. You can see it in the fractional widening of his eyes, the way his mouth parts softly in blatant surprise before he shuts it, dark eyes returning to your sternum. He says: “Closer.”

“Mhm.”

The back of his hand brushes against your breast, causing your breath to hitch. His thumb traces softly along the outline of the tattoo, following the path just beneath your shirt, nudging the fabric aside slowly, so slowly, until your breast is bare, nipple puckered and aching. 

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. His eyes flicker to yours as if to see if you really want this—and whatever he sees must reassure him, because then he is sweeping his fingertips along the bottom curve of your breast and taking it into his hand, his palm rasping gently over your nipple. All the breath rushes out of you. Your thighs clench together. Already you’re aching—have been since you saw his mouth around that cigarette on the street—but he moves with determined caution. His thumb finds your nipple and teases it, pulling a desperate little sound from the back of your throat. 

“Pretty little tits,” he says, his voice a warm, smoky rumble that goes straight to your core. He captures your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching softly. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand reaching out to brace yourself against his shoulder. He is solid and firm beneath your touch, unmoving and unmalleable. Your breasts have always been sensitive, but it feels like every touch is directly related to the feelings in your cunt. You find your back arching, hips searching for friction against the seat of the chair. 

“Be still,” he says firmly. Another pitiful sound slips past your throat. “Let me play with you.” 

“Please,” you gasp. “Play with me—even if that’s all you want—just don’t stop, please.” 

His mouth parts as he listens to you, his eyes so, so dark. The pupils have nearly swallowed his irises whole, until you can see yourself bare from the waist up in the reflection. He shakes his head a little. “You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“I do. I—“ your words are cut off with a gasp as he hauls you out of the chair by your wrist and onto his lap. He’s so thick thighed that it stretches you obscenely to have him between your legs. His hands tear the button-up off your shoulders and down your arms until it flutters to the floor, leaving you half naked. Dipping his head, he presses a heated kiss to the place on your sternum where he had rested his hand during the tattoo—and then trails wet kisses towards your left breast, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking with a decided softness. 

You let out an unflattering, choked groan, resting your weight heavily against him until you can feel the prominent bulge in his tight jeans. His hands find your ass and grip you tightly, working you back and forth, rubbing that bulge against your clothed sex. 

“Driving me fucking crazy,” he mutters against your skin, opening his mouth to drag the sharp line of his teeth against the curve of one breast before switching to the other and flicking his tongue over your nipple. 

You gape at his admission. Had you been? He’d been so closed off and cool…though now that you thought back, maybe that was just his way of hiding it. Suddenly he grips the back of your neck, where your hairline ends, and pulls you to his mouth. He tastes faintly of smoke, even fainter of the drinks he had had earlier in the night, but it is an intoxicating mixture. Your tongues find a rhythm as your hips do the same, both of you fucking in every sense of the word except the literal kind. 

He takes one of your thighs and wedges it between his own, until you’re no longer grinding against his cock but instead his denim-clad thigh. “You the kind of girl who can cum like this? Just from this?” 

“Uh-huh,” you promise, head bobbing. 

He buries his face in your neck. “Good. I won’t last when I’ve got my cock in you. I’d like you to cum at least once before then.”

“Oh god,” you groan, gripping his shoulders fiercely as you begin a halting, stilted rhythm against his thigh. The denim is rough against your leggings. He feels all around you: his scent, his taste, his touch. When his hands find your hips to help you work yourself against him more smoothly, a sigh of gratitude fans from your lips. 

“What else do you need?” he asks. 

“My—touch me—“ He abandons your hips once you find a suitable rhythm. He finds your nipples again, teasing them with clever fingers. The stimulation has your peak approaching faster, building like a storm in your lower belly. 

Ghost leans back to look at you, eyes trailing over you from head to toe: your face burning with warmth, your breasts with peaked little nipples, your leggings nearly soaked through at the crotch with how wet you are. He shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. 

“Fucking perfect.” You bury your face in his neck, feeling a warmth inside your chest. He grips you by the neck again and tugs you back. “Look at me. Look at me.” 

You look at him for as long as you can, but when the band in your belly finally snaps, your eyes roll up and slip shut, your mouth drops open in a choked gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as you shudder and shake in the throes of your pleasure. 

He leans down to kiss you through it, tongue teasing at your slack mouth. 

When he stands, he takes you with him, hauling you up until you wrap your shaking legs around his waist. It’s probably a good thing too. You aren’t sure you could walk otherwise. He carries you the few steps to the couch and lays you down, curling his fingers in the waistband of your leggings. You nod. He strips them off you, along with your flats, and your panties until you are naked as the day you were born.

Your thighs clamp together shyly. He lets them, reaching behind himself to pull his shirt off. Something catches your eye in the streetlights streaming in through the window: Ghost has one of his nipples pierced, a neat little barbell through the sensitive flesh. 

Fingers enter your vision—your own—reaching out on instinct. You hesitate, unsure if he is receptive, and a little afraid to hurt him. He’s so bloody tall, too…but he takes care of that himself by kneeling down by your side, his eyes cautious. Closer, you can see the scars: silvery in the moonlight, crisscrossing over his torso. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask, softly stroking your fingers beneath the pale pink skin of his areola. 

“No,” he says. You can feel the timber of his warm voice vibrating through his chest, up your fingers, straight to your pussy. “You can play with it.”

You shyly run your thumb over it the way he had yours. He sighs, breath fanning across your arm. His eyes go heavy-lidded, tongue flashing as he wets his lips. After a moment, you grow insecure and move your hands away from his nipple down to a scar that crosses his sternum. He lets you, very patient, like a dangerous creature withholding its bite. 

“You’re so—“ the words are whispered dreamily before you have any idea how you plan to finish the sentence. Flushing with embarrassed heat under his wary stare, you finish: “—hot.” 

He physically turns away, expression inscrutable. You can’t help but feel like you have said the wrong thing. He puts a hand on your belly, stroking the softness. “You broken, or can you take more?” 

“I want more.”

“Want my cock?” 

You nod, feeling like a bobble head. 

“I want to hear you say it.” 

“I want your cock.”

His hand reaches for his belt, unbuckling it. Your eyes track the movement with hungry nerves. His hands put butterflies in your belly: thick palms with long, slender fingers, veins criss-crossing along the backs. An artist’s hands. He works his belt free with nimble grace and shucks down his jeans and underwear in one smooth movement, revealing his cock to your gaze and the light from the street lamps. 

He is huge here to match. Downright intimidating in length and girth, uncut with a nice curve toward his belly. He grips himself and gives a series of smooth strokes, the muscles in his abdomen flexing into sharp relief. 

“Oh my god,” you mutter. 

“No gods here,” he says, kneeling up on the couch. His hands part your thighs, and for a long time he just looks at you, that sensitive, swollen place between your legs. He stares so long that you nearly cover your face, embarrassed by whatever he is thinking. Then he touches you, and when he does, he touches you with surprising reverence. He touches you like you are art. 

“Can’t believe you let me ink you,” he mutters, stroking your vulva with his warm palm. His eyes are on the sternum piece now. “Practically let me carve my name into your skin. Anybody around here who sees it will know who did it. They’ll know who touched you.” 

“Good,” you breathe. 

His sigh is shaky. You’re learning his reactions, his very breaths. That shaky sigh means he’s pleased with you. You’ve said something right. 

He reaches down to his jeans on the floor and works a hand into his pocket, pulling free a condom. He hands it to you—for inspection, you realize, though you’ve had so few one night stands (try zero) that you’ve never had the need to inspect a condom before. The package is intact at least. There appears to be an expiration date which you squint at. All looks well. You hand it back to him and he tears it open, rolling it down his considerable length. 

Then he goes back to touching you. One hand braces himself against the back of the sofa so he can lean down to kiss you, tasting your mouth deeply. The other hand finds your entrance, circling it with a finger before slipping inside you all the way to the last knuckle. You are wet enough and relaxed enough that he slips in easily. 

“Relax…there you go. Let me in,” he says under his breath, working a second finger in beside the first. It is a bit of a stretch—he’s thick everywhere goddamn it—but it’s a good stretch, a much needed one. The third finger has you stiffening, whining at the pinch of pain. He slows his fingers and lets his thumb find your clit, muting the pain with little jolts of pleasure. 

“Ghost,” you groan, toes curling against the leather of the couch.

“I think you can take it,” he says, thumb so soft and insistent against that aching pearl of nerves. “But what do you think?” 

“Your cock—want it—please—“

“Alright,” he laughs, pulling his fingers free and wiping the wetness on his cock. “No need to beg.” 

He notches his cock against your entrance and slips inside you. Both of you inhale together, like on cue. Just the first few inches have you feeling full beyond your comfort zone, but he seems to understand in his silent, all-knowing way. He stills, working that free hand between you both to play with your clit until you’re clenching around him, body trying to pull him deeper. He slips further in and then reaches the end of what your body can take. You feel fucking stuffed, your hands shaking where you have gripped his naked shoulders, nails digging into his skin. 

His own breathing is ragged, pecs brushing your nipples with every inhale. The little bursts of pleasure help, until you find that your hips have grown restless, working back and forth as much as his substantial weight will allow when you’re pinned beneath it. 

“Stay still,” he mutters into the juncture of your neck. “Stay still or I’ll cum and this is all over.”

“Can’t,” you gasp, his revelation electrifying you. “Have to move, ‘m so full—“

“Fucking hell,” he groans. He pulls out, leaving you feeling gaped. “Roll onto your side.” 

He gives you instruction but isn’t shy about reaching out and physically arranging you until you are both spooning, your back to his chest. This time when he enters you, it is more shallow, and easier for him to reach around and play with your clit. 

You arch your back, seeking more of him, pressing your breast into his free palm. He plucks at the nipple, teeth nibbling at your throat. 

“Want you to cum again,” he says, stilling your movements so that you can’t fuck your self back against him. “Give me one more. Then it’s my turn.”

“Ghost—I can’t—“ you’ve never cum twice before. Not even with your favorite toys have you been able to scrounge together more than one illustrious orgasm. This knowledge and your expectation of his disappointment has you stiffening in his arms. 

“If you can’t, then don’t,” he says simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He keeps his fingers soft and insistent against you, and only after a few lengthy moments does he feel confident enough to work his hips against you too. He pulls out too far and his length drags across your labia, the head brushing where his fingers play with your clit. 

You give a sighing little moan. His head cocks; you aren’t the only one listening to sighs. Now when he gives those lazy, lackadaisical thrusts, his entire length just strokes the outside of your sex. 

“Oh fuck,” you whine, feeling that band in your belly begin pulling tight again. 

He hums behind you, a smug sound. 

“Not sure I want you to cum now,” he says. “Hold it. I’m thinking it over.” 

“Ghost!”

He laughs, honest to God laughs at you. Tears prick your eyes from the sheer need (and a bit from embarrassment) but his hips never cease nor slow their tireless thrusts against you, not even when you grow close enough to beg, close enough to plead. 

He loops his arm around your waist and pins you against him when you cum to keep you from rolling right off the couch, your body wracked with shivers and spasms. The warmth of your release washes over you from head to toe, and you are still basking in it when his cock finds your entrance again and enters you. 

The position keeps the penetration blissfully shallow (otherwise he might give your cervix a painful beating), but he still reaches new lengths inside you, filling spaces you didn’t know were empty. The shop is eerily quiet except for the sound of his hips snapping against your ass and the frequent breathy sounds his cock punches out of your lungs. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck and lets out a series of sounds that are toe-curling: deep groans and raspy curses, whispered praise and hisses through his teeth. His hand grips your hip tightly, leaving shadows the shape of his fingerprints on your skin as he fucks you. 

Sooner than you’d like—but he’d warned you, hadn’t he?—his thrusts grow sloppy, the sounds messy thanks to your wetness as he finds his release and moans it into the skin of your throat. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. And again: “Fuck, fuck. You broken?” 

“Yes.” 

He snorts. Then it turns into that laughter, warm and rumbling against your back. You smile where he can’t see. 

-

“Sorry about this,” he says as he ties the condom off and throws it away, naked as the day he was born. You’re still naked too, though much more shy, legs crossed demurely and arms wrapped around yourself. 

“Regretting it already?” 

“Yes,” he says. Then, when he sees the stricken look on your face, he adds: “Should have at least taken you to dinner first.” 

“Dinner?”

“You owe me drinks. I owe you dinner.” He finds his boxers in the darkness and slips back into them. Then, because the expression on your face still hasn’t relaxed, he says: “I don’t regret the sex. Do you?”

You shake your head. 

He scoffs a little. 

“I mean it,” you insist. You touch your tattoo. “I wanted it…the day you did—this.” 

He raises both brows at you, silently calling your bluff.

“I didn’t think you were interested,” you admitted sheepishly. 

“I jerked off in the back just from seeing half your tits,” he admits, slipping into his jeans now too. His mouth curls a little at the corner when he sees the way you gape at this news. “I was interested.” 

You laugh; you can’t help it. “Dinner, then? Or drinks?” 

“Yeah,” he says. “Alright. Get dressed.”

[actual-changeling]

This was supposed to be a short little Folie à Deux meta, but several hours of writing, thinking, and script research later, and suddenly here we are.

Welcome to this glimpse into my insane mind.

So! Let's go on a little journey and discuss the ending of season five, because Folie à Deux not only sets the foundation for The End but actively makes it so much worse than it could have been.

In the previous episodes, Mulder has been ditching her and blowing her off more and more, he keeps doing things behind her back without telling her, they keep having fights about belief vs. hard facts, and then, at the beginning of that episode, what happens?

MULDER: I must've done something to piss him off. SCULLY: What do you mean? MULDER: Get stuck with this jerk-off assignment or have I finally reached that magic point in my career where every time somebody sees Bigfoot or the Virgin Mary on a tortilla I get called to offer my special insight on the matter? SCULLY: You're saying "I" a lot. I heard "we." Nor do I assume that this case is just a waste of our time. MULDER: Not yours, anyway. There's no reason both of us should go to Chicago. I'll take care of it. SCULLY: Mulder! MULDER: I'm monster boy, right?

He actively and intentionally breaks them up against her will. Mulder is making decisions for THEM without consulting or listening to her, and what can she do except let him run off like he so clearly wants to.

Now, what do you think she takes away from that?

After being left in the dark about his undercover mission in the episode before? After Mulder showing her, one way or another, that he does not want to work with her, that he's fine leaving her behind?

But alright, she stays behind, it's simply Mulder being Mulder.

She does the research he asks her to do. She shows up and helps out when he gets taken hostage. She listens to him, tries to understand, she's concerned because he hasn't been sleeping. She does the fucking autopsy even though he went behind her back and tricked her into it. She keeps looking and looking and looking, and by the end, she's not relieved that the case is finally done or that Mulder is no longer actively insane.

Folie à Deux—a madness shared by two, that's what she believes is happening to her, to them.

Shared by two. Scully thinks of them as a pair, a team, an "us" and a "we".

We all know what he tells her when she visits him at the hospital, but let's really really think about the consequences of it.

MULDER: Scully, you have to believe me. Nobody else on this whole damn planet does or ever will. You're my one in five billion.

Yeah, alright, that sounds intensely romantic and affirming of their partnershi— oh that?

Oh, that's Diana. No, I never told you about her even though she's arguably one of the most impactful people in my life. I found the X Files with her, she believes in my theories without giving me any resistance, we were in a relationship, she's back now and I am spending more time with her than with you while ALSO not paying attention to you.

If I will tell you about her now? No. But I WILL treat her like she's my partner and not you.

SCULLY: Say that what you're suggesting were even possible, who'd want to kill a kid whose abilities would offer you the ultimate advantage—I mean in business, in war, in anything? DIANA: Maybe somebody whose business is in keeping secrets. MULDER: Well, let's test him. I think the kid will stand up. Let's run a brain scan and a psych evaluation on him. (looking away) You know what to do, Diana.

Not a single word of recognition towards Scully after the shitshow that just went down with Gibson. Way to go, Mulder, way to go.

On top of that, it is worth mentioning that Fowley calls him by his first name and he calls her by hers. Scully can probably count the amount of times Mulder has called her "Dana" on one hand, and she doesn't call him "Fox" because, and I quote:

MULDER: And I... I even made my parents call me Mulder. So... Mulder.

So, Diana is an exception. Why? Why does she get to call him that? Why she but not Scully?

Why does she get to reappear in his life after leaving without an explanation and have Mulder welcome her back with open arms, offering Scully's position on a silver platter?

Scully needs to ask TLG for help and information about Fowley, and it makes everything so much worse. Within their work-relationship, she's the scientist, that's her job, that's who she is, that's why Mulder needs her, and Fowley isn't one.

Right?

LANGLY: She was there when he discovered the X-Files. She has a background of para-science.

Oh. Oh, okay. Sure.

A big thank you to @sentientsky for sharing the script, which gives us this wonderful additional information:

So, to summarize, she's hot, Mulder's type, has exactly the kind of background that someone working on the X Files needs, and they have an old dynamic to fall back into—a dynamic they fall back into period.

She goes through all that, stays up all night to make sure her evidence is scientifically sound, just for Mulder to not even back her up when Spender and Fowley challenge her.

The script actively states that this is what Diana has been waiting for during the meeting—to refute Scully.

Fowley questions Scully's capabilities as both an agent and a scientist during a meeting right in front of Mulder, and Scully looks at him. She waits for him to say something, to defend her like he usually would, but he doesn't.

He doesn't even look at her.

The betrayal she must have felt, ESPECIALLY after what he told her at the hospital. It's no wonder she writes off anything and everything he says to her when he's injured in some form after that experience.

She needs to make herself believe he was just talking like that because he was having some sort of episode, because what are the other options here?

One in five billion, until someone better comes along?

Until he no longer needs her to do something for him?

Until she has outlived her usefulness and has transitioned from being a vital part of their investigations to being annoying and overly sceptical?

Until it becomes clear that Mulder isn't the issue in their partnership, it's her? That all her fears and anxieties weren't so irrational, after all?

Because it's important to remember that this is the day after she saw him and Diana at the hospital.

After THIS:

How much do you wanna bet that she spent the last, what, twelve hours since seeing them trying to convince herself that it's not what she thinks?

That, of course, Mulder is still her partner. That they're still a team. That she is not an indulgence to Mulder or the X Files, that she belongs down in that basement just as much as he does.

You and me. Me and you. Right? ...Right??

The case goes off the rails, Fowley gets shot, Gibson gets kidnapped, CSM delivers a Star Wars line and later burns down their office.

She stays at his apartment for the night, and we see them interacting when Skinner calls, but Mulder is still not fully acknowledging her. He asks her about Fowley and any news regarding their assignments, but that's it.

No "how are you feeling about potentially getting fired, Scully?"

Now, there's this tiny but important part that they decided to cut, which emphasizes the emotional gap between them; it re-affirms what we have seen for way too many episodes.

Mulder cares about her, but he is completely taking her and the safety she offers him for granted. He is, and I mean this in the least negative way possible, essentially using her as a crutch—without even noticing. Scully notices, though, and in lieu of an explanation from Mulder, she is forced to draw her own conclusions.

I'm going to stay here (your life) if that's okay with you (if you still want me in it).

When they're standing in the ashes at the end, it's just as horrifying and terrible for her as it is for Mulder, and she clings to him for the both of them. She clings to him to keep him from breaking, and he doesn't hug her back.

Scully is giving him her everything, she's trying so incredibly hard to keep him in one piece and soothe his pain, but, tell me, who is taking care of her?

There's a limit, she has reached it, and Mulder doesn't even realize it.

Is he acting maliciously at any point? No, definitely not. However, he is carelessly cruel sometimes, doesn't communicate how much Scully means to him, and simply keeps taking and taking because she keeps giving.

Five years, and yet he still blames and distrusts her when she doesn't immediately jump onto his insect zombie bandwagon. Five years, and never once did he mention the person he found the X Files with. Fowley so easily takes Scully's place and she understandably feels rejected and unloved.

WE know he loves her, yes, but she isn't sure of that anymore. Loving someone comes with feeling comfortable around them and being yourself, yet he is incapable of fully understanding the responsibility they both have to keep each other safe from each other.

Scully is sacrificing herself to keep him from breaking and he does not even notice how she is falling apart right next to him.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Code to your heart

pairing: lee felix x amab!reader

genre: fluff, smut

word count: 12.5k

description: Felix pines over his oblivious coworker. But a new project at the office becomes a chance for him to get closer to his crush.

warning/s: swearing, time skips, masturbation, lots of mutual pining, mc and felix are both oblivious, oral, handjobs, cum swapping, kinda public sex, protected sex, bulge kink for a moment, dirty talk, praising, light bondage, lots of aftercare (lmk if i missed something)

a/n: i enjoyed imagining and writing this so much and i am so proud of it, i hope y'all enjoy this too!🥹🫶🏻

~check out my: Masterlist

How long has it been since you haven't moved from your desk? Four, five, six hours? You've lost track of time, your brows are furrowed, eyes red from lack of sleep, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, nimble fingers gliding over the keyboard.

You haven't gotten up to get your coffee refilled yet or to eat. You didn't even notice your cup was almost empty. But Felix noticed.

He notices everything about you. Like how you only come to the office Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays. Those are the days he looks forward to the most. Your favorite color must be black because that's mostly what you wear. You have a favorite pair of jeans, black with rips on your thighs. Felix's eyes always linger a little longer on your legs when you wear those.

You take your coffee black too, your eyes always closed when you take the first sip. Felix's face scrunches up when he imagines the bitter taste of it. You run your hand through your hair multiple times whenever you're frustrated, only to have it fall back into your eyes. You bite your lower lip when you concentrate.

Felix could go on and on, and does that make him creepy? No, he is just observant and you're his favorite person to observe.

You're oblivious to this, not even sparing a single glance towards your secret admirer. Somehow, you always turn your brain into work mode, tunnel vision only for the two screens before you as you type out your code.

Felix doesn't mind this dynamic (if you could even call it that), he's too afraid to actually come up and talk to you. Looking at you from afar is kind of comforting. It's safe. It helps him get through the day. Whenever he's stressed about an error or a bug in his program, he can just look up, face almost completely hidden behind his screen as he glances at you, working a few tables away from him.

After all, the two of you do different things so you don't really cross paths or communicate a lot. Felix deals more with clients whereas you just like to put your headphones on and code. It's a safe space, you get to listen to your favorite music, be in your own little world, create from scratch, every word, number, symbol and parentheses typed out with vigor and purpose.

It's lovely to do work that fulfills you but it's also frustrating and lots of times it makes you want to pull your hair out or punch through your screen. But, it's nothing a good cup of strong coffee can't solve.

And Felix knows this. He knows that whenever you start feeling frustrated, you get up to get more coffee. He's at his desk, looking at you losing your mind. You're running your hand through your hair, biting your lip, shaking your leg. Something's got you worked up and Felix has been gathering his courage for three fucking months.

He's gonna do it. He will get up, get your coffee from the machine and he will bring it to you, strike up a conversation, maybe ask you out. His skin starts itching from nervousness and he has to get up right now, before he chickens out again.

Felix shuffles hurriedly to the machine, before you can get up and ruin his plan. He puts his coins into the machine and punches the button for black coffee. He glances back at you, your back now turned to him and he gulps as he looks at the broad expanse of your shoulders.

This really is not the right time to think about your shoulders or your arms, not when he's already so nervous to even come close to you. The machine beeps and Felix grabs the coffee, his heart leaping out his chest.

"Lix, hi!"- he almost bumps into his coworker Jisung as he turns around.

"Oh, hi Jisung."- Felix curses him in his mind. Wrong timing. Jisung is a blabbermouth and now he's going to ruin everything.

"Since when do you drink black coffee? I thought even dark chocolate was too strong for you."- Jisung smirks, poking fun at the poor boy.

"No, this is not for me. It's..."- Felix starts and then you're next to him suddenly. Well, next to the machine. And you drop your coins in and punch the button for the black coffee. Shit.

"It's what?"- Jisung tilts his head.

"Nothing, I gotta get back to my desk."- Felix mumbles, almost skipping back to his designated place, embarassment settling in his bones.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stupid Jisung. Why did he have to come in the wrong moment? Stupid Felix. Why can't he just come up and talk to you like a normal person? He groans, hiding his face in his hands, his body shrinking behind his desk. And that stupid cup of black coffee staring at him, mocking his predicament.

He can't even bring himself to look up at you, he feels so embarassed, as if you can read his mind and know what his intentions were. Felix sighs, fingers gliding over his keyboard, you didn't even acknowledge his existence when you came up to the coffee machine. If you were interested in him even a little bit you'd probably strike up a conversation, Felix thinks. He sees you communicating with some of your colleagues, laughing with them and he wishes he was the one causing that laugh and twinkle in your eye.

-

It's been a week since Felix's lame attempt at talking to you and he's contemplating what to do again. Should he try the same thing? Should he just come up to you like a normal grown up and say something like 'hey, I think you're hot, wanna go out?'. No, there's no way he would ever do something so bold. With his luck, he would probably accidentally do or say something embarassing and you'd never talk to him again.

But his luck is about to change.

"Felix, I need to see you in my office."- his boss comes up to his desk.

"Oh, okay."- Felix nods, confused if he did something wrong. He glances at your desk, but you're not sitting there anymore.

He takes a deep breath in, preparing himself mentally for whatever awaits for him in his boss's office. What he least expects is to see you sitting in one of the chairs.

Felix stops in his tracks, legs turning to jelly, his heart beating hard against his chest, hands shaking. How to breathe? Because he feels like he can't remember the basic things his body automatically does.

You turn around and look at him, your eyes traveling from his feet to the top of his head and Felix feels scrutinized. Fuck, is his hair messy? Did he fuck up his eyeliner this morning? Does he have something between his teeth? Did he accidentally forget to change out of his pjs before coming to work?

Felix's feels like his last brain cells have just abandoned him.

"I'm sure you two already made acquaintances, Felix and Y/n."- your boss gestures between the two of you with his hands, smiling like nothing important is happening. Like you aren't just two steps away from him, and he can smell your cologne and it's making him feel dizzy.

"Yeah, sure."- you nod, a small polite smile on your face, your eyes unreadable. Felix's chest vibrates with nerves, excitement rushing through his veins. You've noticed him?

"Yeah!"- he says, a little too enthusiastic and then cringes internally at himself.

"Well that's good because we have a huge project coming up. I've been monitoring both of your work recently, and I've decided that coupled with the skills you two have, the time you put into your work and your results, you'd be my best people for this."- your boss says and is Felix dreaming? Is he dreaming? Because this can't be for real.

"These are the clients files, Felix you will take care of the promotion and marketing, Y/n you will take care of coding and implementing the product. Ofcourse, this isn't something only the two of you can do so I'm also assigning you a team. But I want the two of you to come up with ideas how to implement this because through your creative work, I can see you have a similar thought process."- your boss explains, giving you a folder of documents.

You seem unphased as you flip through the pages while Felix is literally melting into a puddle, he wants to scream, cry or claw at the wall, or possibly all of the above.

"Questions?"- your boss asks.

"When can we start?"- you ask, ready to tackle any task you've been given.

"As soon as possible."

-

Felix follows you as you make your way out of your boss's office.

"Wanna get started right away?"- you ask.

"Yeah, sure, I just finished the last assignment I had."- Felix answers, trying to calm himself down and hoping to all the gods that he looks normal on the outside.

You nod, making your way towards your table where you leave the folder.

"You want some coffee?"- you ask.

"Oh sure. With milk and three sugars."- Felix says and he swears you look disgusted for a moment before you turn around and leave for the coffee machine.

"Thanks!"- Felix calls behind you and you dismiss him with a wave of your hand.

Felix doesn't know what to do with himself. He doesn't know if you wanna work at your desk, his desk, or maybe one of the empty offices. He feels so awkward, scared that he'll embarass himself and look stupid in front of you, and he doesn't want to blow what might be his only chance.

He's startled from his thoughts by you putting the coffee cup on the table.

"Here, your coffee."- you say it pointedly.

"T-thank you."- Felix feels his face heating up as you stand so close to him.

"Maybe we should take one of the empty offices for more privacy."- you say, grabbing the folder and shrugging.

More privacy. Why would you say it like that? Felix starts freaking out as he reads between the lines.

"Y-yeah, sure."- he answers and both of you grab whatever you need from your desks before you walk into one of the empty offices.

As soon as you sit down, you take a sip of your coffee, your eyes closing like always and Felix steals a glance at you. He can't believe you're actually sitting so close to him.

After that first sip, you waste no time, going over the documents and requests of the client with Felix. The boss is proven to be right as the both of you start discussing the best way to approach this project, you agree on everything almost instantly.

For a few moments, Felix forgets how embarassed he is to be next to you as you keep your themes of conversation professional.

This is the first time you've actually taken a good look at Felix. Ofcourse, you'd say a polite 'hello' whenever you ran into him. You'd seen him at his table or walking around, talking to everyone, always wearing pastels, especially baby blue. When you're concentrated on your screen and he walks by, you see a bundle of blue just pass by your peripheral, leaving behind the sweet scent of his cologne.

You've also noticed that there's half eaten chocolate or candy on his desk always. You wonder if he has cavities with the amount of sugar he's eating, internally cringing at the thought of the artificial sugary taste.

You never noticed that he wears makeup, just a bit of eyeshadow, barely noticeable eyeliner and gems under his eyes. You never noticed that his face is full of freckles, reaching even up to his ears. You never noticed how plump his lips are, upper lip in the shape of a heart.

A thought runs through your mind; wow, he's really pretty.

Your heart skips a beat and you shake your head. No, you don't even want to entertain such thoughts. You don't want to start anything with anyone, you enjoy being alone and free, only having to care for your cat. Humans are complicated. You don't do complicated, unless it's a code. And even the most difficult algorithms are easier to you than people.

Business. That's what you're going to concentrate on. The task before you. You dismiss thoughts about Felix, almost ignoring his presence as you start working on a data flow chart.

Felix on the other hand, sweats profusely across from you. He's also working on his laptop but it feels awkward. He's used to yapping away with someone even while he works but you're so zeroed in on your screen that it seems like you don't even care that he's there.

How is it so easy to strike up conversation with anyone except you? Felix swears his brain turns to mush whenever he tries to formulate sentences in front of you.

"Felix? Are you listening?"- you wave your hand in front of his face, and oh my god you said his name. Felix perks up immediately, his neck and face burning up like a fucking forest fire as you stare at him.

"Um, you were saying?"- Felix fake coughs, trying to cover up that he was zoning out.

"I said I'm done with the flow chart. If you wanna look at it?"- you say, turning your laptop towards Felix.

"Oh right, sure."- Felix nods and you get up and sit next to him, sliding your laptop closer. Fuck fuck fuck. He can't do this, Felix has no idea how he'll take being so close to you, yet so far away.

"So, this is what I was thinking..."- you start explaining, and Felix listens, he really does but you smell so nice, your hair looks so soft and your knee bumps into his a few times. His insides turn into jelly but he makes himself listen. He can't afford to make a fool out of himself in front of you. He wants to impress you.

He concentrates and adds his input, and you stare at him as he talks, your eyes roaming all over his face. Just why are you looking at him like that?, Felix thinks as his heart beats out of his chest.

Your eyes fall to his lips as he keeps talking, and Felix sees your tongue dart out shortly and lick your bottom lip. Fuck.

"Anyways, yeah, so what do you think about that?"- Felix finishes.

"Sounds good. We're on the same wavelength. We should have a meeting with the rest of the team tomorrow. Jisung and Minho probably already went home. And I don't think Changbin is here today at all."- you conclude.

"Yeah, I agree."- stupid. 'Ask him out! Do it! Just say it!', Felix's brain screams at him.

"Looking forward to working with you, Felix."- you smile, a genuine smile, your hand reaching towards his.

"Yeah, me too!"- Felix beams at you, shaking your hand.

Something flutters in your stomach. Those damned butterflies! You get up as fast as you can, gathering your things because the office suddenly seems smaller than it did before.

"See you tomorrow."- you say, and turn around, speeding out the door before Felix can even react.

Felix sits there for another five to ten minutes, the smell of your cologne lingering around him, your voice still echoing in his ear, the feeling of your hand holding his still on his skin.

How can he recover from this?

-

The next day, you arrange a meeting with your coworkers. Felix wants to strike up a conversation that doesn't involve work with you. But it seems that being closer to you feels like you're even further away than you usually are, a few desks away from him and not acknowleding his existence.

You're concentrated on your coding, mostly talking to Minho and Changbin since they're programmers too. The three of you keep exchanging ideas and talking about things Felix doesn't understand as deeply as you do.

At the end of the day, you politely greet everyone and slip away like sand slipping away through his fingers.

And that happens every single day of you working together on the project.

Ten days later, Felix is becoming more and more frustrated, and today's been a particularly bad day all together and Felix makes mistakes the whole time.

"Are you even paying attention?! We're gonna be behind because of you."- Jisung rolls his eyes in annoyance.

"Cut him some slack, Jisung."- you chime in before Felix can even open his mouth and hey, what the hell. You stood up for him! Felix feels like he can conquer the world, climb the highest mountain, dive the deepest sea, fly up into the sky and probably land on the Moon.

"Sorry."- Jisung mutters. "I'm just on edge."

"We all are."- Changbin adds and it's true. The client keeps changing and adding requests, and he's too particular about everything, making all of your team want to pull their hair out.

"Next week, I'll be working from home only. So, we can just use Zoom for meetings, okay?"- you announce at the end of the shift.

Felix is disappointed. Now, he's not even gonna see you for a whole damn week. He hasn't been without you for more than 2 days in the last few months and he doesn't know how he'll survive working without getting a dose of you.

-

Felix chooses to work from home that week too. His roommate and friend, Chan, is out of town so he can sit in his living room freely and type away.

He's on his couch, munching on some gummy candy as he works when suddenly he gets a notification to join a zoom meeting. He looks at it and freezes. Your name is on the screen.

He quickly fixes his hair, already embarassed that he's wearing some dumb gaming merch shirt, it's too late to change it right? Is the apartment even clean?, he thinks and looks around. The frame of what you'll see seems fine so he connects to the meeting.

Felix fully expects to see his other three teammates but it's just you. You on his screen. In a plain white shirt, your hair still wet presumably from a shower, posters on the wall behind you, lofi music playing somewhere in the background.

Fuck, you look delicious, Felix almost starts screaming at the screen. How can you be that gorgeous without even giving it any effort?

"Hey, sorry to pull you into a meeting without warning but I just wanted to go through some of the things we talked about on Friday with you."- you say.

"Yeah ofcourse! Don't apologize. I was working anyways."- Felix says, moving his hand and accidentally rustling the bag of gummies next to him.

"Are you munching on candy again?"- you ask, with a knowing smirk and Felix swallows. This is the first time you asked him anything that has nothing to do with work.

"Well yeah. Sugar fuels me."- Felix shrugs, flashing you a bright smile.

"You'll get cavities."- you shake your head.

"That's a problem for tomorrow."- Felix says and you chuckle. His heart hammers in his chest, he can't believe he made you laugh, even if it was just a small chuckle.

"Well then, let's talk about today's problem."- and there it is, back to work again.

Felix deflates a little but there is still a spark within him, a spark of hope for anything blossoming between you, even if it was just a friendship, he would be happy to be by your side.

You work through your ideas together, and Felix sees you're ready to end the meeting so he panics and attempts to make you stay on the call a little more.

"Why did you take a week to work remotely?"- he blurts out. Fucking cringe. Why did he ask something like that?! You probably have your own private reasons and now he's prying into your life like some kind of desperate fool.

You look taken aback by the question and Felix wishes his couch would open up and swallow him, making him disappear forever.

"Oh, well, my cat is sick. So, I have to take him to the vet and be with him while he gets better."- you answer, and Felix absolutely melts.

"You have a cat?"- he smiles at you and you nod, returning a smile.

"Dimples."- you say.

"What?"

"My cat's name. It's Dimples."- you chuckle, your cheeks becoming a little rosy. Felix screams internally. You're not only handsome and intelligent. You're fucking adorable.

"Don't ask."- you wave your hand as Felix opens his mouth.

"Can I see him?"- Felix beams at you.

"Oh, sure. Let me get him."- you say and get up.

Felix catches a glimpse of your sweatpants, his insides churning at the sight. He has some time to look around the room you are in, and he leans in closer to get all the details imprinted in his mind. The posters hung on your wall, a cool lamp in the corner, a bookshelf full of figurines and well books, a guitar case on the floor.

Your bed, slightly unmade, with black covers and a black fluffy blanket.

"Here he is. Mister Dimples."- you appear suddenly, startling Felix as he backs away from his laptop a little.

"Oh my god! He's adorable!"- Felix gasps.

"Isn't he just the prettiest?"- you say, eyes shining as you look at your cat and nuzzle into him. Dimples meows, trying to get out of your grasp, obviously not having it.

Felix doesn't know if he wants to squish you in that moment or if he wants to be squished by you.

"Alright, he's not in the mood right now."- you chuckle, letting Dimples hop out of your arms. "But, I swear he's a friendly cat usually."

"He's not like too sick? I mean, he'll be okay?"

"Oh, yeah he'll be fine."- you smile, some kind of intimate atmosphere settling between you and your coworker. Your stomach does that butterflies thing again and you panic.

"Well, anyways, revise what I sent you in that document and then we can continue tomorrow."- your demeanor changes and Felix straightens his back and nods.

"Sure!"

"Bye, Felix."- you say and end the meeting abruptly.

Felix sits still for a few moments. Did he do something wrong? Did he cross the line somehow? Did he make you uncomfortable?

He sighs as he opens up the document and pops another gummy in his mouth.

So what if he gets cavities.

On the other side of the screen, you're taking a few moments too. Seeing Felix without makeup, dressed casually, with his hair unkempt made you feel some type of way. He looked even prettier than he does at work, if that was even possible.

It's hard enough to resist talking to him every day at work, but now that you've seen him in a relaxed state like that, your mind races.

Images run through your mind and you wonder how his soft lips would feel against yours. How pretty his legs would look all wrapped around your waist. How sweet his moans of pleasure would sound if you had your way with him.

Oh, what the hell is wrong with you?

-

Felix can't sleep that evening. Now he knows what your room and your bed look like. Now he can really imagine one of his many scenarios. One that involves the two of you in your bed.

In his half-asleep state, Felix feels hot as he imagines you on top of him, his hand sliding down to the tent in his boxers. He imagines you taking complete control over him, your kisses demanding, hands bruising and hips unforgiving.

He wants to surrender himself completely, let you touch him however you want, fuck him however you want.

His hand wraps around his leaking cock and he wishes it was your hand squeezing him, demanding sweet release from him.

He lets himself moan loudly, hand speeding up, lost in the thoughts of you, your voice, your smell, your touch. Felix cums hard and as soon as he comes down from his high, shame rushes into his brain. He can't believe he just did that.

-

Monday. That dreadful day. Felix is afraid of facing you, like you'd know what he did. He didn't touch himself to the thought of you only once, not even twice, he did so three times. The things he imagined were getting more visceral every time and when he walks into the building and sees you getting coffee, he is mortified.

He hesitates, almost tripping over his feet as he slowly makes his way to you. You sense a presence and turn around only to be greeted by Felix's shiny eyes and freckled cheeks. Your face heats up and you turn back to the coffee machine again.

"Morning."- you mumble, avoiding to look at him. Fuck, why does he look especially pretty today? His hair is in a half updo, there's little shiny stars around his eyes and lipgloss on his lips. It's all sparkly and sugary but his eyes shine the most as he looks at you. You can't take it.

"Good morning!"- Felix says nervously, why did you turn away like that? Can you actually read minds?, Felix is panicking again. Can you see what he's been thinking about all week? He catches a glimpse of himself in the glass nearby, he put in extra effort today and even wore his favorite baby blue shirt. He hopes you'll notice.

"You're getting coffee too?"- you say, grabbing your cup, still avoiding to look at him, cursing those damn insects buzzing around in your stomach.

"Oh, yeah."- Felix accidentally zoned out again. He gulps when he notices that you're wearing those damn ripped jeans, they're so tight. He can't help his curious eyes as they flit towards the slight bulge in the middle, and he feels something coil in his stomach, his throat dry.

"I'll be in the office."- you break his stare and he gasps quietly, looking up at you. Thankfully, you were staring at your phone with your brows furrowed.

"Okay."- Felix nods as you spin on your heel and hurry across the room.

When he walks into the office, he notices it's just the two of you.

"Where is our team?"- Felix asks, sitting down and opening up his laptop.

"Changbin will be here shortly, around 10 I think. Jisung has a meeting. Minho has to work on another project today."- you say, checking the schedule as Felix admires your organization.

"So it's just the two of us."- you add quietly, and Felix catches a glimpse of a shy smile as you stare at your screen. His heart jumps, almost too hard, like it's leaping out towards you.

"Good. Okay. That's good."- Felix's leg bounces up from nervousness. You're already typing away and his eyes fall down to look at your hands.

That's when he notices it, a hair tye on your wrist. Now, that would be normal if it was a black one like you always wore, but this one is baby blue.

Is Felix imagining things or did you wear it on purpose because you know that that's his favorite color? His heart can't take the thought of that.

"Good morning, suckers!"- Jisung breaks the comfortable atmosphere, as you and Felix work while listening to some lofi hiphop mix.

"Morning, Ji."- Felix greets his coworker.

"Morning."- you say, not looking up from your laptop.

"It's not even 10 and I'm already exhausted."- Jisung rolls his eyes.

"Bad meeting?"- Felix asks, sipping on his sweet coffee.

"Bad client. Was on my ass the whole time. They bombarded me with messages last night! And then they found more shit to complain about this morning. Like I didn't have a whole sleepless week because of their project."- Jisung huffs, his nose scrunched up in disgust.

"Ah, I'm sorry Ji."- Felix says, and Jisung waves his hand.

"Minho's taking me on a little road trip this weekend so we good."- he smirks. "I just had to vent a little."

"Ooh, a road trip? That's so romantic."- Felix sighs, leaning his chin on his hand. You look up at him from your screen, his eyes shiny as he stares into the distance.

"When are you gonna get some?"- Jisung smirks.

Felix's face becomes as red as a tomato in record time when he hears you cough on the left of him.

"Anyways, I revised the last entry our client made. Should be able to upload the numbers into the database now."- you break the conversation and Felix can see your cheeks becoming rosy.

"Great work!"- Felix says, he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable and he definitely doesn't want Jisung talking about his non-existent sex life in front of you of all people.

"Thank you, Felix."- you smile, and Jisung looks up at the both of you.

Felix looks around, suddenly feeling like he's missing something.

"Oh! I forgot to bring my candy."- Felix whines and your eyes fall on his pouty, glossy lips. Images of you kissing that pout away run through your mind and your heart starts racing faster.

"Um... these are your favorite, right?"- you reach into your backpack and pull out a brand new bag of Felix's favorite candy. You have no idea what prompted you to do this but that damn bag of candy has been in your backpack for two whole weeks.

"Oh!"- Felix gasps, butterflies errupting in his stomach all the way to his chest where they flutter around his heart. "Yes, they are! You got them for me?"

"Well, yeah. I don't exactly have a sweet tooth."- you say, 'except for you', you think but bite your lip.

"That's... that's really nice of you. Thanks, y/n."- Felix is at a loss of words. "By the way, how's Dimples? Is he better?"

"Dimples?"- Jisung raises his eyebrow.

"My cat. Don't ask."- you shake your head and Felix giggles, and then cringes internally at himself.

"He was sick. And to answer your question, yes, he's good now. Back to normal. Zoomies and all."

"That's great news."- Felix smiles, feeling triumphant that he knows something more about you than your coworkers do.

Jisung observes the whole interaction, a knowing smirk on his face.

-

The project is almost done. Just a few more finishing touches. Felix fears that you'll go back to basically being strangers, passing by each other's desk when you go to get coffee.

The last week he's barely seen you, since you had no real need to come to the office. He's bummed and Jisung notices.

"Why so blue?"- he comes up to Felix. "Pun fully intended."- he motions towards Felix's blue sweater.

"I'm just tired."- the usual sparkle in his eyes is dim.

"It's y/n, isn't it? You've been ogling that man ever since the first day he walked into this building."- Jisung smirks. Damn him.

"What? I don't ogle. I... observe... and what's it to you anyways?"- Felix gets defensive, feeling embarassed that someone noticed his crush.

"Woah damn, I'm just worried about you. You don't seem like yourself these last few days."- Jisung points out.

"Sorry. I'm just worried... that we'll go back to being nothing. Not that we're anything special right now. But at least we talk. And I don't know, I- I like him a lot."

"Just like?"- Jisung smirks.

"Don't start, Ji."

"In my humble opinion, both of you are fucking idiots. Why don't you just talk to each other like normal grown-ups? If I never confessed to Minho, we wouldn't be enjoying our wonderful time together right now."

"Thanks, but no thanks."- Felix shakes his head making Jisung laugh. "I don't think he even looks at me that way."

"Oh so you're not just a coward, you're also blind."- Jisung snorts.

"Did you come here to insult me or comfort me?"- Felix smacks Jisung's arm.

"Ow! Both?"- Jisung rubs his arm. "You know what then? There's gonna be a party this weekend, more of a get-together actually. We will celebrate our project well done. That could be your chance to talk to y/n."- Jisung smirks.

"Ugh, I don't want to get intoxicated while trying to talk to him."- Felix cringes.

"Just two little drinks. To boost up your courage. What could go wrong?"

-

Everything. Everything can go wrong.

The evening starts out nicely, Felix put in even more effort to look pretty for you (even though you think he is beautiful always), his make up is sweet and sparkly, lips rosy and glossy. His outfit is cute too, hair in a half updo with a baby blue bow to top it all off.

You almost trip over nothing when you see him all dolled up like that, a bright smile on his face as he approaches you.

The two of you join Changbin, Minho and Jisung at a table. Everyone orders alcohol and everyone clinks their glasses together in the name of success and great teamwork.

There are more drinks sent to your table over and over again, you have no problems with that but Felix does. You're actually talking to him, probably buzzed from the alcohol and Felix tries to keep up with you, but he can't take all the alcohol well.

Pretty soon, the music seems distorted, the room is spinning and Felix's stomach churns.

You're talking about videogames you played in your childhood and as much as Felix enjoys this topic of conversation, he needs to tell you how he feels now.

"Y/n, there's something I have to- to tell you."- he hiccups, and you stop talking as you look at him. Felix swings a little, getting into your personal space and you can hear your heart hammering in your ears.

"Yeah?"- you say and he smiles a big dumb smile, his eyes closing as he starts chuckling.

Felix calms down after a few moments and opens his eyes.

"I'm-" - he starts and then his stomach betrays him as it rises up in his throat. And then everything is black.

-

Black covers. Posters on the wall. Figurines on the bookshelf. A cool lamp in the corner.

Felix squints as he looks around. No fucking way!

"Hey, you awake?"- your voice calls to him and he must be dreaming.

"What the hell?"- he whimpers as his head starts pounding.

You come closer to the bed and Felix looks up at you, still confused.

"You got shitfaced last night. Changbin left early. And then Jisung and Minho said they need to get something done but they never came back. I didn't really want to leave you alone so I brought you here. I hope that's okay."- you explain.

"Oh..."- Felix tries to remember what he did or said but his mind is blank. Then he notices he's wearing your shirt and he gasps.

"Oh my god... Did we...?"- he asks, heart pounding in his chest and your eyes widden, cheeks red in an instant.

"What?! No, no way. I mean not that I wouldn't want to... Just... Not like that... What am I even saying?"- you panic, and Felix can't believe what you just said.

"I'll go make you coffee."- you clear your throat. "Wait, I don't have any milk. Would you like a smoothie?"

"S-sure. Um... Did you change my clothes?"- Felix grips the blanket covering him.

"You puked all over them so..."

Oh that is so embarassing!, Felix curses himself as you disappear into the kitchen. How could he be so stupid and get so drunk that he didn't even remember anything?!

There is a lot he needs to process in this moment and he feels like his brain is not braining at all. He embarassed himself in front of you, he incovenienced you by making you take care of his stupid drunk ass, you literally saw him almost naked and not in the scenario he was imagining and now he's in your room. In your bed.

Everything around him smells like you and he's overwhelmed. Something stirs in his gut. God, please, not now!

"Hey, breakfast is done."- you appear in the doorway.

"Oh, I'll be right there. I just need to use the bathroom first."- you nod and show him where it is.

Your shirt is so big on him and he pulls it down even more, feeling exposed in his boxers. He makes his way to your bathroom and when he's done, he finds you in the kitchen. Your aparment is not too big but it's stylish and full of knick knacks that are just so you.

The sight of Felix in just your shirt makes your brain go haywire. His thighs look so plush and delicious, you just want to squeeze them.

"Um, do you have any pants I can wear?"- he asks as if he knew what you were thinking.

"Oh, right, sorry. I'll go find something."- you say, pushing the smoothie glass towards Felix.

"Thanks."- Felix whispers, he feels so awkward and his brain still can't wrap around the fact that he slept in your bed and that you made breakfast for him.

As he waits for you, he hears rustling to his right and he turns and sees your cat sniffing the air and checking him out.

"Oh, Dimples hello!"- Felix greets the cat, squatting down and beckoning him to come closer. Dimples shuffles towards him and after sniffing his hand, he immediately nuzzles into him.

"He likes you."- you say as you walk back in.

"I like him too."- Felix smiles up at you and you feel your face heat up.

"Here."- you give him some sweats to wear and he puts them on, having to tie them up tightly around his waist.

"So, how shitfaced did I get last night? I mean I don't remember anything, so I wanna know... What'd I say or do?"- Felix asks, already nervous. But it can't be that bad since you took him home and took care of him.

"Um... well..."- your face is beet red as you avoid Felix's eyes. Fuck, what did he do?

"You tried to... to kiss me."- you mumble and Felix freezes.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!"- he panics, his face falling into his hands. Felix wishes he could erase his entire existence in that moment. "I am so sorry! I don't know why I did that!"

"Really? Cause you also kinda told me that you're in love with me."- you deadpan.

Felix can't believe he fucked up this bad.

He feels like he could cry right now. And he probably will, his eyes are already watering and he buries his face as deep as he can into his palms.

"Felix? Are you crying?"- you ask cautiously, trying to look at him.

"No."- he says, his voice muffled. "Yes."- he adds, and looks up at you, a single tear streaming down his freckled cheek.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because I fucked everything up and I feel so embarassed. I literally dumped all my emotions on you and tried to kiss you. I would totally understand if you don't feel comfortable with me anymore."- Felix sniffles.

You stare at him for a few moments before you start chuckling. His eyes widden as he looks at you.

"You didn't fuck anything up. If I wasn't comfortable, I wouldn't bring you here, would I?"

"No?"- Felix shakes his head.

"Look, I turned you down becase you were drunk and I didn't want us to do something only to have you regret it in the morning. If I was ever gonna make a move on you, I'd do it while we're both sober, preferably."- you chuckle, your cheeks rosy again.

"You... what?"

"Even though I tried do deny it, I couldn't. I... like you too Felix."- you say. Felix thinks his hearing has gone bad or he's hallucinating.

"But, I would like for us to be friends first. I- I need time to warm up to people. If that's okay with you."

This is it. Almost seven months of fucking pining for you and daydreaming 24/7, you are the one to confess to Felix.

He can't help the huge smile spreading on his face.

"I'm totally okay with that! More than okay!"

-

As Felix comes to find out, you weren't joking when you said you need time to warm up to people.

It's been almost 6 months since he drunkenly confessed to you, and your relationship hasn't upgraded much since then. At times he feels like your cat likes him more than you do.

Yes, you hang out outside of work now but it is not that different to Felix than hanging out with his other friends.

He feels hopeless again, you never even talk about that day like it didn't even happen. Did you forget about what he said? Did you not like him as he likes you anymore? How does that just come up in a conversation?

Felix doesn't know how to ask you, he sits contemplating at his desk. He catches a glimpse of you, getting up and greeting Minho. He doesn't do it on purpose but he overhears a part of your conversation.

"...you know for our dinner party on Friday. I have a date for you if you don't wanna come alone."- Minho said.

"Oh, I'm kinda seeing someone so that wont be a problem."- you say. What?

"Ooh, I didn't know that! Who's the lucky guy?"- Minho smirks.

"You'll see on Friday."

What the hell? Felix's heart drops to his stomach. That's why you haven't made a move on him. You're seeing someone. He knows it's probably dramatic but at that moment he feels like his whole world is crashing down around him.

His vision blurs and he stands up abruptly, turning around and making his way to the bathroom quickly.

Much to his dismay, the bathroom is occupied and he's not about to cry in front of his coworkers. He runs into the first empty office and closes the door. Tears are already running down his cheeks, and he tries to calm himself down. He can't be caught crying like this at work.

To his horror, the handle turns and the door creaks open.

He slowly turns around, eyes already red from crying and ofcourse it has to be you.

"Felix?! Are you okay?"- your concerned face turns into a face full of confusion as you come closer to him.

"No, I'm not."- he shakes his head.

"What's wrong?"- you reach out to touch his shoulder but he avoids it.

"D-don't. You're seeing someone, I bet they wouldn't like seeing you touching someone else."

"What? What are you talking about?"- your brows furrow.

"I overheard your conversation with Minho. I didn't mean to eavesdrop but it happened."

"Oh that."- you sigh. "I was- I was talking about you."

"Me? Aren't we hanging out as friends?"- Felix asks, sniffling and wiping his tears off.

"Yeah but I thought we were clear with our feelings."- you say and Felix chuckles.

"Oh my god, I am so stupid."- he rolls his eyes in disbelief.

"Were you crying because you thought I was going out with someone else?"

"Maybe."- Felix says, embarassment settling in. "I didn't know if you liked me anymore."

"I guess I have to do something to convince you I do then."- you say, gently laying your hand on his cheek. You slowly lean in closer and Felix's eyes widden.

Is this really happening?

Felix's lips part and yours press your lips into his, they mold together like they were made for each other.

Both of you stay still for a moment, Felix's eyelashes and cheeks are still wet and you bring your other hand to his cheek and gently swipe your thumb over his skin. You start moving your lips against his, and oh my god, you are kissing him.

Felix melts into you, kissing you back with everything he has, hands grabbing at your arms to help him ground himself because at this point he feels like if he doesn't hold on he will float away.

You wanted to give him an innocent kiss just to show him that you do actually see him as more than a friend but the pent up emotions both of you had bubbling inside you started spilling out.

Your mind is racing, Felix's lips are so soft and plump, they taste like the strawberry lipgloss he wears, the candy he loves the most and the sugary coffee he drinks every morning. Under any other circumstances, this much sugar would make you puke but with Felix you couldn't get enough.

Your hand holds the back of his neck, other hand sliding down to his waist. Felix whines, lips parting more and you lick his bottom lip to ask for permission.

He lets you in and your tongues dance together as you keep tasting him, both of you are grabbing at each other desperately, Felix's hands gripping your shirt as you pull him in closer.

"Felix..."- you whisper on his lips before you lean in to kiss his jaw, his breathing gets shaky, fingers digging into the material of your shirt.

You're in a trance, he's intoxicating and you wonder why you haven't kissed him before. Your lips press below his ear and Felix whimpers quietly, head falling back to give you access.

You kiss the soft skin on his neck, his sweet perfume making your pants tighten.

"Y/n..."- Felix moans when you lick at his neck and bite down, sucking on his skin. Your hands grip his hips and you push your middle into his.

"Ahh!"- he moans, grabbing at your arms again.

You lean back and look at him, both of your eyes glazed over with lust.

Felix looks down at the obvious tent in your pants and gulps. You smirk and run your hands to the back of his thighs. He gasps as you lift him up on the table, his legs falling open for you to slot your hips between his.

"I want to make you feel good."- you whisper, leaning your forehead against his.

"Here?"- he swallows, glancing at the door.

"Right here."- you smirk, biting on your lip.

"Okay."- Felix is desperate, his hips are already lifting up towards you, his cock straining in his tight jeans.

You put your hands on his thighs, gently running them up and squeezing occasionally and Felix squirms. You unbutton and unzip his jeans, sliding them down slowly as he lifts his ass up.

His heart is beating so fast and he can't believe this is happening. He's been dreaming about you for so long, dreaming of giving himself to you, belonging to you in every sense of that word. He's more than ready to let you do whatever you want with him.

You hook your fingers in his boxers and slowly slide them down too. His cock springs up from the confines and you wrap your fingers around him, tip already leaking with precum.

Felix keens at the sight of your big hand wrapped around his cock and he ruts up into it.

"Someone's eager."- you smirk, thumbing his slit.

"Ahh- I'm sorry!"- he whimpers.

"Don't be, I think that's sweet."- you say, squeezing him a little.

"Mm..."- Felix grips at the end of the table.

You give his cock a few tugs, your other hand on his inner thigh, squeezing the flesh.

"Please, please, oh my god!"- Felix whines desperately pushing up into your hand. He's touch starved and thirsty for you, he can't take any teasing. You understand and drop down to your knees and he gasps as he looks at you.

"W-what are you doing?"- he whimpers as you gently fondle his balls, your other hand moving on his tip.

"I'm taking care of you. Just relax."- you whisper, leaning in closer and pressing your lips on the soft skin of his inner thigh.

Felix mewls, completely surrendering to your touch, his mind gone from the stimulation you're giving him. You cover his thighs with pretty love bites, hands working on his cock and balls. You think he looks so beautiful in this moment, head thrown back, tongue lolling out of his plump lips, fingers gripping at the table, his legs spread wide and his cock leaking just for you.

You need to taste him so you lean in and wrap your lips around his tip.

"Ah, fuck!"- Felix whimpers loudly, clamping his hand over his lips and glancing at the door.

You smirk around his cock and take more of him in your mouth. Felix's moans are muffled by his hand and you're not having it. You reach up and gently grab his arm tugging it down.

"I want to hear you."- you say, releasing him with a pop.

"B-but people-"

"I don't care. I want to hear how good I'm making you feel."- you look at him, eyes dark with lust and Felix whimpers, his cock twitching.

"Okay."- he nods and you take him in your mouth again, your hands roaming whatever part of his body you can reach. He gives in completely, leaning his body into you, lifting his legs up and pressing his heels into the table so you have full access to him.

You bob your head on him faster, no gag reflex as you practically swallow his smaller cock, the salty taste of his precum sweet on your tongue.

"Ah, y/n, I'm close!"- Felix whines, trying to push you away but you grab his hands, intertwining your fingers with his as you speed up even more.

His legs start shaking, heart beating hard against his chest, his thoughts are swimming with only you as he looks down at you. You may be kneeling in front of him, but to him you look demanding and authoritative as you play with his body.

It's like your eyes full of lust, lips wrapped around him and hands squeezing the flesh of his thighs are ordering him to cum for you. Whines of pleasure keep spilling from his lips, body shaking as he spasms and cums hard down your throat. You swallow almost all of it, savoring the taste of him.

You lift up immediately and grab his head, crashing your lips into his, tongue pushing into his mouth so you can make him taste himself.

Felix moans into your lips, eyes rolling back as he swallows some of his cum mixed with your saliva.

"Fuck."- you lean back, looking at him darkly.

"Fuck indeed."- Felix nods, still breathless.

"What about you?"- he asks, looking down at the bulge in your pants.

"S'okay. Don't worry about me. Next time."- you say as you caress his cheek gently.

"Are you sure? I want to please you."- he says and you just want to eat him up in that moment.

"You already did."- you smile and lean in, capturing his lips, giving him a kiss more gentle than the ones before.

"You free on Friday?"- you ask and Felix nods fervently.

"Great. I'll pick you up."- you say and give him another peck.

-

Felix must be having some sort of out-of-body experience as he gets ready on Friday. He still can't believe what happened in the office two days ago and he can't stop thinking about it.

Every time he remembers the way you looked at him, the way you handled him and the way you made him cum, he wants to giggle and kick his feet. He feels so giddy as he puts his outfit together, thinking how after dinner you'll take it off of him, his face gets red just from the images running through his mind.

You pick him up at 6:30, he sits in the passenger seat of your car and you lean in immediately and peck his lips.

"You look pretty."- you tell him, your stomach swarming with butterflies but by now you've decided to just go with the feeling.

"T-thank you. You look handsome."- Felix smiles sweetly at you, his cheeks rosy.

God, he'll be the death of you.

You arrive at Minho and Jisung's shared apartment on time and as soon as Jisung sees the two of you enter together, he yells.

"Aha! I fucking knew it! You owe me money, Changbin."- Jisung smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at his coworker.

Changbin groans in annoyance at him but smiles at the two of you.

"You two finally pulled your heads out of your asses, huh?"- Minho asks and Felix smacks his arm.

"Please, shut up!"- Felix whines, both of your faces red.

Your coworkers/friends don't stop teasing you throughout dinner anyways but you don't care anymore. Your attention is on Felix only, and he looks so pretty tonight, so delicate and sweet.

There's a growing need in the pit of your stomach, burning a fire inside your heart. You want him so bad.

"Hey, you wanna leave?"- you lean in to whisper in his ear as Jisung talks about some funny mishap that happened on a date with Minho.

"Oh, you wanna go home already?"- Felix looks at you, disappointment flashing in his eyes.

"No, I wanna take you home. To my house, I mean."- you say, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Oh... Oh! Okay! I want to!"- Felix says, cursing himself for acting so eager like he's desperate (he is).

"Well, this was fun and all but we gotta go. I have somewhere to be in the morning and Felix is sleepy, right?"- you look at him and Felix plays along, faking a yawn.

"Y'all can just say you wanna go home and fuck."- Jisung smirks.

"I'm never coming to your dinner party ever again."- Felix throws a piece of bread at Jisung, face red in embarassment and Jisung just laughs obnoxiously.

-

As soon as the two of you walk into your apartment, Dimples runs towards you meowing loudly and butting his head into yours and Felix's legs.

"He's hungry. As if I didn't feed the little gremlin before I went out tonight."- you shake your head, a fond smile dancing across your lips.

Felix chuckles and follows you into the kitchen.

"You want something to drink?"- you ask, after feeding your cat.

"No, thanks."- Felix says, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. Why does he feel so awkward suddenly? You must be feeling awkward too, as silence settles between the two of you.

Felix screams at himself on the inside, willing himself to make a move but you beat him to it as you step closer to him, cornering his body into the kitchen bar.

"Oh"- he gasps a little as he looks up at you.

"I know I said this before but you look so pretty tonight. I love the sparkles on your eyes. And the bow in your hair. It's very sweet."- you compliment him like it's nothing and Felix melts, his face turning into a tomato.

"T-thank you. I- I dressed up for you."- he says quietly, voice wavering at the end.

"You did, hm?"- you smirk, bringing your hand to his waist, your fingers brushing the exposed skin where his crop top rode up.

"Yeah."- Felix nods, his eyes fluttering as you caress his face and hold his waist. He leans into your hand and you lean closer to his candy lips.

"Can I kiss you?"- you whisper, breath hitting his skin.

"Please."- he says, relief painted in his deep voice.

You crash your lips into his, wasting no time for an intro as you pour all your passion into it. Felix becomes putty in your hands immediately, opening his mouth so you can explore him with your tongue.

You keep kissing, hands roaming all over each other before you hear Dimples meowing on the right. You part, chuckling and looking at the little cockblocker.

"Let's go to my room."- you say and Felix shivers, nodding as you grab his hand.

Dimples makes himself comfy on the couch and you pull Felix into your room, closing the door behind you.

"Now where were we?"- you smirk, hands tangling into Felix's soft hair.

"You were kissing me."- Felix smirks back at you and you chuckle, leaning in to kiss his neck. Felix's arms wrap around your waist as he leans his head back into your hand. You craddle his head and bite down hard on his skin, sucking a love mark into it.

"Mm..."- Felix moans, pushing his hips into you.

Your kisses keep getting more and more heated, your hands sliding down his back to grip his plush ass. You both stumble towards the bed, your back colliding with the shelf next to it, the figurines displayed on it rattling from the impact.

"Let me..."- Felix whispers before he kneels down, hands on your jeans button. You nod and he opens it up, unzipping them and sliding them down.

Felix's hand ghosts over your bulge tentatively and you push your hips towards his face. He can see that you're big and his cock twitches in his pants as he squeezes you through your boxers.

"Take them off."- you say and Felix complies immediately, fingers hooking in your underwear. As soon as he pulls it down your cock springs out slapping his face.

"Sorry."- you chuckle and Felix groans as he feels precum pooling in the panties he wore for you.

Fuck, you're so big! Felix prays to all the gods that he can fit you in his mouth somehow. His small hand wraps around the base of your cock, the tip of his tongue playing with your slit.

You can't wait anymore, you want to fuck his pretty face and see him gag on your dick.

"Open your mouth."- you order and Felix's eyes glaze over with lust as he opens his mouth for you. Your hand holds his head as you slowly push in, just the tip and a little more.

Felix moans around you immediately, eyes fluttering as he starts bobbing his head up and down, taking more and more of you each time.

"Fuck."- you look at him, his plump lips wrapped around you, his lipgloss staining your cock.

You grip his hair and Felix whines around you pushing himself to take more as his hand works the rest of it, he leans towards you and gags, tears gathering in his eyes. He looks so perfect with his mouth full of your cock.

"Ah, fuck. Just like that baby. You're doing so good."- you praise him, and Felix knows he's done for. His cock throbs for attention and he starts moving faster, sucking you off with everything he has, taking as much as he can, gagging and crying as he gives it his all.

You're close but you don't want to cum yet. Not until you've fucked him, so you pull him off of you and he whines, tongue chasing after your cock.

"Patience, baby."- you smirk at the state of him. He looks completely disheveled, his makeup is ruined and his cheeks are red, eyes dark with lust.

"P-please..."- he coughs a little.

"Tell me what you want."- you lean down to look at him, your hand still tangled in his hair.

"Touch me, please."- he begs.

"Get on the bed."- you say, helping him up and he obeys, laying down on your fluffy blanket. You kneel between his legs, hovering over him and Felix is so excited, reality feels so much better than all his imagination.

Your hands slide on his body and you take his top off, fingers play with his sensitive nipples as you kiss each and every freckle you find on his skin.

You take his pants off and your eyes darken with want when you see what he had on under them the whole time.

"Do you like it?"- Felix asks, batting his long eyelashes at you as your finger plays with the lacy hem on his panties.

"I love it."- you lick your lips, hands grabbing his thighs so you can push his legs up and keep them open for you.

"You're so hard and wet just from sucking my cock, hm?"- you ask, palming him hard without warning.

"Ahh!"- Felix moans, hands gripping at the blanket, hips lifting up into you.

"Mm yes, y/n."- he whines and you smirk, gripping at his panties. Felix looks down just in time to see you ripping them in half.

"Oh!"- he gasps and you grab his cock, giving it a few tugs.

"I want full access."- you smirk, grabbing the ruined panties and throwing them somewhere behind you.

"You have it."- Felix whispers, mind racing from the thought that he's finally at your mercy.

His knees are pressed to his shoulders and you grab a bottle of lube from your night stand drawer.

"Stop me at any time, okay? We don't have to do anything you don't want."- you say, caressing the back of his thigh gently.

"Okay."- he nods and you open the lube bottle, coating your fingers in it generously, letting it warm up a little before you press your fingertips on his fluttering hole.

"A-ah, y/n!"- Felix whines as you circle your fingers on his entrance.

You slowly start pushing in, meeting a little resistence as you bury your fingers into him. His eyes roll back and his cock twitches as you keep pushing in.

"You're sucking my fingers in."- you say and Felix whines in embarassment, it's been too long since anyone touched him or talked to him like that.

He covers his face with his hands as you start moving your fingers and curling them to hit the sweet spot inside him.

"You okay?"- you ask, hand coming up to touch his.

"Yeah, just embarassed."- Felix answers, peeking at you from between his fingers.

"Of what?"- you ask, slowing your fingers down.

"Just embarassed for myself in advance because I haven't done this in a long time and I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing."- Felix says as he moves his hands away.

"You don't have to do anything. Just keep your legs open like that and I'll do all the work. Your task is to enjoy and let me hear how much you're enjoying."- you smirk and press into his sweet spot.

"Oh!"- Felix shivers. "O-okay... Ah, whatever you want, y/n."- his head falls to the side as you keep hitting that spot over and over again, moans spilling from his pretty lips.

His legs start shaking and his cock twitches as you add another finger, stretching his tight little hole as you keep pushing deeper and faster.

"Oh my god!"- Felix whines but before he can cum, you pull your fingers out and he fists the blanket in frustration.

"Why'd you stop?"- he almost cries.

"I can't wait any longer. I need to be inside you."- you say, grabbing a condom you took out with the lube.

Felix looks down at your cock and gulps. He hopes he'll be able to take it, he wants to take it. He wants you so bad that he is willing to work extra hard just fo fit your dick inside him.

You roll the condom on, lubing up again because you really don't want to hurt Felix, you want to see him get lost in pleasure.

You rub your tip on his hole and Felix mewls, holding the backs of his thighs and looking down at your tip teasing him.

"You ready?"- you ask.

"Yes."- Felix nods and you slowly start pushing your cock into him.

His eyes roll back as you stretch him and you look down, biting your lip at the sight of his hole sucking your cock in.

Felix's eyes are closed and he lifts his hand up, blindly reaching out for you. You immediately grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, your other hand squeezing the back of his thigh.

He's whimpering so you stop and let him adjust for a moment.

"You okay?"- you ask, leaning down to look at his face, his nose scrunched up and brows furrowed.

"Yeah, it's just... I've never taken a cock this big."- he admits sheepishly and your face heats up, and the blood rushes down again making you impossibly hard.

"Oh yeah? You're doing so well, though."- you smirk, pushing the rest of your cock slowly inside him. Felix whines, gripping your hand and the blanket. Fuck, you're even bigger than in his fantasies and his whole body starts shivering with anticipation.

He looks at you, his eyes shining and you start moving slowly.

"Ah, you're so tight baby."- you say, hips moving in a rhythmic motion and Felix whimpers at the way you talk to him.

He feels so warm and tight, stretching just enough to have you fit snuggly into him, his flesh molding around your cock like it was made for you.

"You're taking me so well."- you praise him again, hips moving faster. His cock twitches at the praise and you smirk leaning down to kiss his neck, collarbone and play with his nipples.

"Ah, y/n!"- he moans as you circle one of his nipples with your tongue. Your hand ghosts over his thigh to his neglected cock and you grab him, moving your hand in time with your thrusts.

"F-fuck, oh god!"- Felix stutters out, his hips jerking up into your hand.

"Feels good, huh?"- you ask, fucking him harder, your cock hitting his g-spot.

"So good! So good!"- Felix cries out, holding your hand in a death grip but you don't care about that. All you care about is making him feel good.

"Please, faster!"- he whines.

"Faster?"- you tease, slowing down a little, your hand squeezing his cock, thumb sliding over his slit.

"P-please... please fuck me faster, y/n!"- he begs with tears in his eyes and you comply, hips snapping into his ass faster and harder.

Felix is a mess under you, he can't think anymore, all he can feel is you everywhere around him, above him and inside him. His free hand grabs at your shoulder, he wants to feel you even closer to him. You lean down and kiss him, swallowing the moans that are spilling from his pretty lips.

You release his cock for a moment, pressing down on his stomach where there's a bulge showing.

"Ah, you're in my guts."- Felix whimpers as he looks down at your hand.

"You like that, don't you?"- you grip his thighs and start fucking him harder again.

"Like being filled up with cock, hm?"- you say, watching Felix fall apart when you talk to him like that.

"Yes, yes I do!"- he moans loudly, your hips snapping into his hard again, hand working on his cock.

"Good boy."- you praise and the sound that comes from his lips sounds almost animalistic as his cock twitches in your hand. He's on the edge of his high, you can see that.

"My good boy."- you repeat and that's all it takes for Felix to explode all over himself while moaning your name. The sight of him shaking while you milk his cock dry brings you to your edge and you finish inside the condom, your hips stuttering and cock buried deep inside Felix's ass.

"Oh god."- he whimpers when you slowly pull out, taking off the condom.

Felix's vision is blurred from tears of pleasure and he brings his hands up to wipe them away.

"You okay?"- you hover over him.

"Yeah. Just need a moment."- he smiles at you and you lean down to kiss his forehead, your lips lingering on his hot skin.

"Where are you go-"

"Just relax, I'm gonna bring you some water and clean you up, okay?"- you brush your knuckles on his cheek gently and he nods.

Felix feels blissed out, eyes searching around your room as his legs finally relax. He hears rustling in the kitchen and you talking to Dimples, and he smiles to himself. He could get used to this.

You come back to your room, this time leaving the door ajar. Felix looks at you as you gently clean him up, his hair and makeup is ruined and you chuckle fondly as you take him in.

"What?"- he asks sheepishly.

"You're adorable."- you say and his face heats up.

"Shut up."- Felix whines in embarassment, covering his face with his hands and you laugh, leaning down and kissing his knuckles gently.

Dimples walks into the room, meowing curiously at the two of you right as you slip under the covers with Felix, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into your chest. He sighs and relaxes into you, his eyelids fluttering.

Dimples jumps up at the foot of the bed and curls up next to you.

"Is that Dimples?"- Felix asks, voice laced with sleep.

"Mhm."- you mutter, moving his hair out of his face and leaning down to kiss his cheek gently.

"Go to sleep, baby."- is the last thing Felix hears before he drifts off into dreamland.

-

The whole next week both you and Felix are walking around the office on cloud 9, and Jisung's constantly teasing the both of you like the annoying little shit that he is.

But nothing can ruin Felix's mood when he comes to the office in the morning and finds his favorite candy waiting for him at his desk. He smiles and sits down, eyes searching for you.

You're at your desk, deep into your screen and Felix wants to get up and greet you but he gets a notification from you.

He clicks on the message and sees a link and next to it: 'download and play this game. it's rlly short, you'll love it (hopefully)'. His eyebrows shoot up in excitement as he clicks on the link.

It downloads fast since it's short and he clicks on the candy icon, realizing it's his favorite candy, the one you leave for him on his desk every day.

When the game opens up, it says 'made by y/n for felix' and his heart leaps out of his chest. He clicks on the play button and is greeted by a little 2D pixelated world bursting with cute pastel colors, and a little character that looks exactly like him. Down to all the details, the bow he sometimes puts in his hair, the sparkly make up, freckles, his favorite blue shirt. He gasps and starts moving with the character, jumping over obstacles.

Huge pieces of his favorite candy start rolling into the screen and he obtains the ability to double jump so he can avoid getting hit by the candy.

He manages to get to the gate at the end and when he clicks on them, the door opens up and a character that looks exactly like you walks out, a cat following behind you.

A bubble pops up and it says: "you've obtained a boyfriend (and a cat)! how do you wish to proceed?" and there are two options under it that say 'keep playing' and 'quit'. Felix clicks on 'keep playing' and the screen fills up with hearts, candy and Mister Dimples, all of it exploding before his eyes until it shows yours and his character holding hands.

Felix is melting and smiling brightly, his face red and you get up, making your way towards his table. Felix looks up at you and you smile at him, leaning down, one hand on his table and the other around the back of his chair.

"That- that was so cute! I don't know what to say!"- Felix almost cries, in disbelief that you actually made a game to ask him to be your boyfriend.

"Just let me kiss you."- you say, your hand coming up to hold his chin, tilting his head up.

"Yes, please!"- Felix whimpers a little and you smirk leaning down to kiss his sweet lips.

"Meet me in the empty office before lunch."- you whisper in his ear and Felix nods, his stomach exploding with butterflies.

-

Felix didn't know what exactly to expect in the empty office but he didn't expect to be bended over the table, hands tied with his own shirt, your cock buried deep inside him.

"Ah fuck! Y/n, oh my god!"- Felix almost yells as you keep hitting his sweet spot repeatedly.

"Shh baby, you don't want anyone to come in and interrupt us."- you say, your big hand splayed on his lower back as you press him down.

"No, I don't."- he quickly shakes his head.

"You want me to keep fucking you, right?"

"Yes, yes please!"- Felix begs desperately as you halt your movements.

"Then just be quiet for me and take it, okay?"- your grip his tied wrists.

"Mm, yes."- Felix moans quietly and you start fucking him hard again, hands grabbing at his plush ass, hips and his pretty waist.

Felix's hands are balled into fists, and he bites his lip, almost drawing blood as he tries hard to keep his moans in.

"I'm close, I'm close!"- he whines.

"You wanna cum for me?"

"Please, let me cum for you!"- Felix whimpers, tears sliding down his cheeks.

"You can cum."- you say and he explodes immediately, cumming untouched as your name spills from his lips like a prayer.

"What a good boy."- you praise him and feel him melt under you as you thrust harder into him, chasing your release and cumming into the condom.

You pull out and lean down, caressing his back.

"Lix? You okay?"- you ask.

"I've been fucked hard."- he says and you chuckle, fingers coming up to play with his hair. "But yeah, I'm okay. More than okay. If you could just untie me now."- he giggles and you smirk.

"Hmm, should I just keep you tied up like this?"- you tease and he whines.

"Alright, alright. I'm just joking."- you say, untying his hands and helping him lift up.

After you both clean up and get dressed, Felix grabs at your shirt and pulls you in closer.

"Wanna eat lunch together?"- you ask, craddling his head in your hands, fingers tangled in his hair.

"Yeah but before we leave the office, I wanna ask something."- Felix says.

"Yeah sure, anything."- you nod, caressing him as he wraps his arms around your waist.

"Did you wear the baby blue hair tye on purpose?"- you didn't expect that question and you didn't expect him to notice that.

"Oh... that... Well, yeah. You always wear baby blue and I liked looking at it while I was working from home or away from you. It was kinda comforting."- you confess and Felix's face morphs into a beautiful smile, his eyes sparkling more than ever.

"I love you."- he blurts out and then gasps as your eyes widden.

Your heart actually hurts from the love bursting inside you in that moment, and you grip Felix tightly.

"I love you."- you say, leaning your forehead on his and Felix visibly melts in your arms. You love him! He can die happy now!

You lean in, kissing the candy lips you became addicted to.

Who cares if you get cavities?

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg

(y'all I actually wanna make the game mc makes for felix ahsjslsl)

[martiandmichelle]

First let me explain this condition that I (and others!) can find ourselves in called "Sexually Blissed Out" or SBO. The definition of blissed out is given perfectly at the online Urban Dictionary which is:

a trance-like happiness, euphoric almost can be sexual, overwhelmed with stimulation leading this trance-like state of being so aroused and blissful.

So I am going to give you the top 5 things that can make me SBO or at least come close to it. SBO doesn't happen a lot but when it does, WOW! I go limp and just let it happend, usually having squirting orgasm after squirting orgasm, my nipples becoming powerful milk fountains.

So here are 5 things that can get me to SBO listed from least likely (5) to most likely (1).

(5) Cum drinking. I'm not talking just about swallowing a guy's or even guys' loads (though doing that as well helps), I'm talking about drinking glasses of cum, chugging them down. The overwhelming taste and wonderful scent of the cum fills all of me and just takes me places and one of them is close to falling into a wonderful SBO. It takes several glasses, e.g., a LOT of cum to get me to SBO.

(4) Tit fucking. That might surprise you, maybe? It's a fantastic way for your greatest sex gift (your hard cock) and what, in my mind anyway, is my greatest sex gift (my tits), to be together and the visual is just incredible. It will take a line of guys doing that to me and squirting their cum on my tits or on my face to get me to SBO, but, damn, it's fun getting there.

(3) Visual sex. I love this, especially when followed by other things on this list. This is usually a 1 on 1 act but it doesn't have to be. To just sit with someone and have them just stare at my body and don't even touch me. I especially love it if my partner or partners stay dressed and I'm nude and he/she/they just stare, with hardons or wet crotches. My breathing quickens and my head gets light and when I start arching my body out and putting my hands behind my head and spreading my legs - yeah, I'm almost to SBO. It just takes time.

(2) Nipple sucking. My experience is that women are better at this than men, some of that is because women tend to take longer when they do it and that I love how they start slowly then ramp it up. If I have one person on one tit and another on the second tit then SBO can come quickly and last for as long as the sucking does. It's almost as if I leave my body and watch from a third person position, just letting my tits enjoy it without me and my emotions getting in the way. Expect a LOT of milk and squirting orgasms when I get there.

(1) Throat fucking. (Obviously only guys can do this. Using dildos is not the same!) OK, I'm not talking blow jobs here. In throat fucking or face fucking (whichever term you choose or however long your dick is, both work), you're in control - TOTAL control. You must be serious about tit and give it your all. I can take it - really, I can (unless you have a cock with > 8 inch girth which won't fit down my throat). I trained myself long ago how to breathe with a cock in my throat so don't you dare take it out unless your changing positions and have to. And any and every position is wonderful. Don't dare stop and ask my if I'm alright - I'll let you know if something isn't working - or you'll ruin the mood. Destroy my mouth and throat as best you can and I'll love the experience ever more. This can be with just one guy (if you can last a long time or can keep going after cumming which means not get too soft). If you want to see me in deep, limp SBO then bring some of your buddies with you so you can go for hours. Rope and handcuffs are welcome, even enjoyed. Just plan to spend hours at it so I can empty all my milk and pussy juices.

Some honorable mentions would be gang bangs (the bigger the better and me in the middle), cowgirl fucking, blow jobs (giving), and drinking my own milk and/or squirt as long as I have friends to share it with. Taking someone's virginity is also amazing as is sex with someone for the first time. I'll round at the top 10 in that I find age differences to be very hot! That, of course, means I'm the older one so having a guy or gal (or, preferably, guys or gals) 40+ or better yet 50+ years younger than me is awesome. (No, no one under 18!)

(These things can change around in order. Had I written this 6 months ago I would have put having my nipples sucked first!)

I'm telling you this now because I'm writing something for you where a number of these come into play. I'm pretty deep into it already so hopefully you'll be able to read it soon.

Marti

[ef-1]

girlhood

[b4kuch1n]

pre-holiday leave crumbs

[seilon]

the happiest ive been in any singular moment in probably over a year was a moment last week where my friends and i were driving to a campsite having accidentally taken a tiny insanely long and winding mountain road to get there, somehow i wasn’t carsick, the windows were rolled down, we were surrounded by nothing but woods for miles, and livin la vida loca was playing on the car stereo

[moongothic]

‘Tis a yarn haul 🧶 

So yeah, my only local yarn shop is closing down, so today I went and bought an absurd amount of yarn from the remaining stock they had. It wasn’t a lot actually, like pretty much all the yarns I would normally get were completely sold out, and the color selection in the remaining yarns left a lot to be desired (but it is what it is)

Like you know my favorite color is black, and there really wasn’t a lot left of any black yarns. It kind of broke my heart a little because amongst the medium sized hanks, there was a fuck ton of that orange yarn, but just ONE hank of black. Like had there been more, I would’ve gotten just black and orange because then I could’ve made something with a Halloween-y color palette, but no, there was just one black 💔

But yeah, this is not a selection of yarns I would’ve ever gone for normally, but it was mostly what was left, and it was discounted, so I’ll just have to take it.

So I got that one sparkly cake of Katia yarn- I usually stay away from plastic blends (and plastic yarns in general) but this was the only one they had left that had a monochrome color scheme (the others were pretty gradients in misc colors), and like. Even if I didn’t buy it, it still wouldn’t make the plastic go away anymore, so I grabbed it. The yarn is super soft though and while I don’t like the sparkly bits in it that much, I’m sure I can make something cute with it

Then I got four lorger Malabrigo hanks, two white and two red. They’re 100% merino wool sock yarns and I’m sure I can think of something cute to make with them (in fact a while back I thought it could be cute to make something with like a peppermint swirl on it, not sure what but, well, I certainly have the yarn to make something now). ((These were the only remaining reds they had the shop, they also had one more white and a green but I left those because I figured someone else might like them))

And all the remaining hanks are silk/wool blend. They had a bunch of misc colors left (and a fuck ton of that orange), I ended up grabbing pretty much all the remaining greens and some whites to go along with them (since I don’t think those hues really go well together), and the last black with one orange to go with it.

So yeah. I normally would never do a yarn haul like this, I prefer to buy yarn when I know I have a specific project to use it with. But considdering the situation, I think this one yarn haul won’t be the end of the world. God fucking knows I am not buying any fucking yarn for the rest of the god damn year

[impeccablebackside]

It had been a while, but the idea of bending Rumpleteazer in half and making her whimper was not on Mungojerrie's mind as much as it could have been. Of course, fucking her would be the best thing he could possibly ask for, but he truthfully has had other things to think about. Sometimes life just gets busy, and they go long(er) periods between frantic sessions. The ball was coming up, but he realistically did not need much preparation for it. Every year him and Rumpleteazer caused their usual brand of chaos, and they had performed their song countless times now.

In the end, they have always made up for dry spells, and he reminds himself that he is patient enough to wait for his treat. His queen knows just how to reward such good behavior, and he cannot help but drop everything to please her needs when she calls his name in such an alluring way. Just the thought of her sounds and body keeps him going most days.

Walking back to their shared den after a spirited morning of lovingly bothering whoever he crossed paths, Mungojerrie was planning on a quieter afternoon of rest before getting up to the usual shenanigans of his nights. Entering into their little private space, he is surrounded by all of the stuff he has stolen and kept away. Walls full of glittering jewelry, floors full of soft cushions, with one centralized catbed in the middle of it all.

Expecting to come home to an empty den, he is a bit surprised to find Rumpleteazer rustling around inside. As per usual, she is her excited self, humming along to herself as she wiggles around and fiddles with things. It takes a moment, but Mungojerrie realizes that she is wearing her song costume, which catches him off-guard. She usually only wears it during the ball or when they are practicing their song together. Standing in the entrance, he just watches her as she quietly dances around, taking in the sight of her.

Mungojerrie is a pretty simple tom when it comes to things that turn him on, but there is something about the costume that drives him wild. Perhaps it is the significance of it, where they both have near magical sex post ball, perhaps it is the way garters and stockings show off her legs, perhaps the way the leotard squeezes her in all the right places and shows off her perfect ass. Maybe it is just all of those things together, and the fact that he thinks she is stunning to begin with. The costume just adds some extra spice. Her ass though, he thinks as he stares, watching it jiggle a bit with every little move. Maybe that is just it.

"It's about time you showed up. Are ya just going to sit there like a moron?" The words jolt him out of his trance, unfortunately really. Given the surprised look on his face, Rumpleteazer continues, "Did you honestly forgot Mungo? C'mon you know we have to practice before the ball. It is literally in a few days!" It suddenly dawns on him. The ball is indeed just a couple of days away. It must have just slipped his mind.

"Oh alright, you little pain in the ass. How come you didn't remind me? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one?"

"You big orange dope, we're both the smart ones! Look at all this stuff we've stole. You think two dumbasses like us could get this without some whisper of intelligence. What do you take us for?" she blurts with a giggle. The way she smiles, along with the look of fierceness in her bright green eyes, always makes Mungojerrie get flustered. Somehow, at least once a week, they have the same little argument, and they always reach the same conclusion.

"Well, I uh, yeah you are right. Have I ever told you that you are also the beauty behind these operations?" he stammers, trying to sound suave. It is not very effective.

"At least once a week, but I never get tired of hearing it. Now get ready and get yer crap on," she says beckoning to him and his costume with respective paws.

Slipping it on quickly, Mungojerrie is ready to roll. They share a glance before speaking at the same time, "Well c'mon now, let's get on with it." Laughing at the other, they assume their starting position. Running through it, they dance their entire routine up until their cartwheel multiple times, singing each part as if they are professionals. In a way, they are. Moving together as if they share the same mind. Having gone through it enough times, they start to joke around, belting out random names while singing. Mungojerrie introduces himself as Scharrelnelis and Burma Charley, while Rumpleteazer yelps out Tingl-Tangl and Lorrenjopie. Trying out-do one another, they end up in fits of giggles and end up stopping. "Tingl-Tangl? What the hell does that even mean Teazer?"

Which is met with, "I think its better than Burma Charley! How do you even come up that?"

Breathless from all the practicing and laughing, they take a few moments to rest. Slapping her shoulder lightly, Mungojerrie nods to his queen, "Best be doing some of those razzle dazzle cartwheels now."

"Alright, alright. Only a few though. I want to save some energy for later tonight," she nods back.

They roll through two sets, a spectacular array of arms and legs working as a solid unit. On the third run though, they get as far as Rumpleteazer leaping into Mungojerrie arms before she stops. "Oh damnit, ran out of steam," loosening up her body in his arms. She is hanging upside down, her legs up past her tom's head. Mungojerrie holds her there, unsure about what to do next. She had never stopped like that, and he finds it sort of fun to have a hold on her like that. "You can put me down whenever ya like y'know," she yells up to him.

The words fly past his ears, as at that point, Mungojerrie is starting to get a better idea of what he wants to do instead. With a near face full of Rumpleteazer's pussy and ass, his needs have crept up and washed over him hard. Feeling something brush against her thighs, Rumpleteazer is startled by the feeling of Mungojerrie rubbing his face into her center, letting out a quick gasp. With messy kisses and licks, he fights against the fabric protecting his prize. He can feel and smell the warmth of her, and he is determined to get his taste. Taking a few steps forward, he gently throws her down onto the edge of their shared bed. He stands over her, watching. The hunger in his eyes and the way he is licking his lips is a huge turn-on for Rumpleteazer. She wants to be lusted after, but in control, the object of unwavering desire for her partner.

She looks up at him, "Oh no, did my special guy miss this?" her paws running along her thighs, claws pulling little lines in her fur. No matter what, she cannot help but tease him.

Mungojerrie just nods his head over and over, "Please."

Mimicking their song, she hops up onto her bottom and spreads her legs, reaching out with her right arm. "Well, I guess I cannot let ya wait to have 'dinner' tomorrow then," she says, giving him a mischievous eyebrow raise. Inviting him in to close the gap between them, when he is within reach, she grabs him by his croptop and pulls him downward with force. It has been a while for Rumpleteazer too, and she needs it now. Keeping her hold on the tom with one paw, she pulls her costume aside with the other, revealing her beautiful pussy. Giving it a rub, she slides two fingers up and down between her lips before spreading herself open. She is glistening wet, and ready for more. "Now," she commands, pulling his head down until he is forced to kneel to match the level of her hips.

With a big dumb smile, he says, "Alright, I guess it's too late to say to keep yer pants on. What's it that the owners always say? Bon Appétit or something like that?" the last words coming out in a cheesy French accent before he gives her heat a little lick and kiss.

"I swear to the Everlasting Cat, if ya don't shut up and -," she is cut off. Mungojerrie, pent up from the dry spell and this lead up, cannot start slow. He dives in deep with his tongue, lapping her up with a vigorous pacing. "Oh fuuuck, right there. Oh god Jerrie, keep going," Rumpleteazer purrs. She slips her fingers through the messier fur on his head, gripping hold to keep his head between her legs. His technique is incredible, putting his noteworthy mouth to a different use. Rumpleteazer whines as he explores her pussy, kissing and sucking at her clit and folds with messy eagerness. He needs his queen to know how much he wants her to feel loved and happy, chasing her approval.

Drowned out by Rumpleteazer's louder whines, Mungojerrie moans along as he eats her out. Even being the giver is still filling him with so much pleasure that he must let it out. Almost constantly vocal at the best of times, he has a hard time reigning in his excitement during sex. Little reverberations ripple through his lips and tongue as he hums against her. Everything is so good, and she tastes so heavenly, and her cries are golden, and her body is immaculate, and Mungojerrie is just trying his best. Keeping his face buried in her pussy, he needs something to take the pressure of. His cock is throbbing for attention, so he quietly brings a paw down and jerks himself while continuing, never breaking his stride. It feels so good to be where he is.

"You're such a good boy to take care of me, my love," Teazer says between gasps. She is more breathy than he anticipates, but the meaning of her words hit him hard. Praise from her pretty mouth is more rewarding than anything, and he is even more determined to prove himself. He abandons his quest for release, bringing both arms around Rumpleteazer's waist to anchor himself and pull her even closer. Focusing on her most sensitive spot, he takes aim her clit, which gets louder whines out of his queen. Her paws fling out beside her, claws digging into the soft bed as she braces herself. Her legs flail around his shoulders before pressing themselves against his ears. Not long after he doubled down his efforts, Rumpleteazer squeals as she cums on his tongue. Her body tightens up as she rides out the first climax of the day, eventually relaxing while Mungojerrie still licks away, never quite satiated with getting a taste of her.

Pushing his head away, she needs a moment to regain herself. Severing the connection gets a sad whimper from Mungojerrie, but he knows better than to grovel for long. He straightens his back, still on his knees, waiting out for more. Rumpleteazer pulls her legs up to her ears, slowly spreading them apart, "You look like you're in a daze, c'mere and fuck me like ya deserve it." It does not take any extra time for him to rationalize it, leaping up onto his feet and grabbing her at the ankles, pulling her legs open. The look on Rumpleteazer's face is one of joyous excitement and frisky desire, and she squirms in place with anticipation. Bringing his hips against hers, he slides his cock along the outside of her pussy, enjoying the sight of her begging. He is not the only one who can tease a bit.

"Show me how much you want me," he says, pausing at her entrance. Rumpleteazer lets out a sultry purr, trying to sound more composed than she is feeling. Helpless in that position, she can only watch and wait.

With a swift thrust, he fucks into her, eliciting a mewl of approval. He is not so big, but fills her up just enough to make them both gasp. It is the greatest experience in the world for him. She is so soft and tight, and the warm feeling of her around him is utter bliss. Normally, he would start slower, but he is desperate for her body. Desperate to hear her whine. Desperate to get more praise from his love. There is no rhythm or plan in mind. He just needs her. With frenetic thrusts, he fucks her over and over again. Pounding her with fast and deep strokes, his mind is clouded by his lust. "Oh heaviside Jerrie! Ahh!" is all that escapes her mouth in loud cries. Easing the grip on her legs, he drops them down and leans over her, pushing more weight into his fucking. He moans to himself, groaning with each push of his hips, but only he is aware. On the receiving end, Rumpleteazer no longer can compose herself, her whines turning into near deafening wails. She tries to silence her yelps, bringing a paw in front of her mouth, but it is no use. She is not sure if Mungojerrie has fucked her this hard before, and it is definitely worthy of the entire junkyard knowing about it. He is so eager to please her that he is unable to think about anything other than hearing her whine louder. His own pleasure is taking a backseat to her needs, and he would not have it any other way.

Mungojerrie can feel his love clench more and more around his length as he continues on, and based on how her sounds are becoming more incomprehensible as he goes on, she is not far from a glorious orgasm. Neither is he, but the buzz in his mind is so deep that he can only fuck with feral intent. He has been forceful enough that he has pushed Rumpleteazer to the middle of their bed in his pursuits. Grunting, Mungojerrie slinks up onto his knees, wraps his arms around each of her legs, and pulls her hips up. Frantically trying to deepen his penetration, he repeatedly gives her everything he can. Burying his length into her with enough vigour that his balls slap against her asshole. It all becomes too much for her, and with a leg shaking quiver and ear piercing high squeal, Rumpleteazer cums again. The climax ripples through her body, and her pussy squeezes harder around Mungojerrie's cock.

It all feels so good, and knowing he has again made his love fall apart through his actions thickens the haze in his head. It is like he is drunk off of her taste and feel, and he cannot get enough. With a few more thrusts into her, his will breaks. Pumping wave after wave of his cum in massive surges, he starts to fill her up with his hot loads. He knows better than to give his queen a creampie without asking, but being pent up for so long has left him emptying himself into her soft heat without second thought. He cums so much that it starts to leak out of Rumpleteazer with subsequent strokes. Pulling out, his cum floods out of her swollen pussy, but Mungojerrie is not done yet. With a couple jerks of his cock he shoots one final cumshot over Rumpleteazer's pelvis and the outside of her pussy before crumpling down in front of her hips.

"Holy crap Mungo, save some of yer jizz for the rest of the year," she exclaims. Bringing a paw down to her pussy, she feels around the mess left behind, "How much did'ya have in you? Has it really been that long?" Mungojerrie just gives an indistinct hum, his body utterly spent from the energy exerted and from his lengthy climaxes. "Oh man, you got it all over my costume too," she says while wiping away some cum. "Don't just lay there you dummy, help me out. This isn't my splooge," she continues on.

"Alright jeez. It's like you didn't even like it," he says scooping her up by her hips. "I've a good idea how to get you squeaky clean," he beams, looking far more excited than he should.

"Promise me no baths Jerrie, y'know I hate water," she says flatly.

Much like he did to start their endeavor, he drops down to kiss and lick at her pussy again. Even messier with his tongue than before, he smears his face in her wetness and his own cum. Already sensitive down there, Rumpleteazer twiches in reaction as he goes on. Surprising her, he spins her around so that she is straddling his face, getting a playful look from the queen. "Gravity and all, you know," the words coming out muffled against her skin as he winks. Starting up again, it does not take much, but after a couple of minutes, she is cumming yet again on his tongue. This time she is much quieter, subdued from the previous releases. Mostly cleaned out and licked clean, Mungojerrie slips his head out from underneath her hips.

Wearing most of the product of his newest exploit on his cheeks, he lays in glee trying to collect himself. A twinge of jealousy builds in Rumpleteazer, but she knows how to get square with him. "I want a taste too," she says before wrapping her lips around his cock, sucking him off and getting a little taste of what he left behind in her. Within a few dips of her head, Mungojerrie lets go again, bucking his hips into her mouth as he shoots one more small bit of cum against her tongue. At this point, it is all that he has left in him. Pulling her head off, Rumpleteazer crawls overtop of him, meeting face to face for the first time in a bit. She makes two quick passes with her tongue, licking errant cum and her own grool off of his cheeks with the load still in her mouth. Locking eyes, they both grab one another's heads, passionately kissing deeply and swapping shared spit and cum between them.

When they break apart, Rumpleteazer speaks in a sultry tone, holding a paw on his shoulder, "You did so good my pretty boy. No one treats me like you do." She traces little patterns in his fur while continuing, "Nobody can make me feel so special, and don't think I didn't hear you moan for me." Her tone is so alluring, and he starts to get hard again, his girth brushing against her leg. "Really Mungo? Aren't ya running on empty. Could you even go again?" she exclaims, gesturing to his cock.

"Not at all. I'm sorry Rump, y'know I like when ya talk sweet to me. I cannot help it. My brain says enough, but my dick screams for more. It's like a pollicle wagging their tail!" he explains.

With a half annoyed, half endeared giggle, she pats his head a few times, "Well then, who's a good boy? My good boy?" He is, and he knows it.

[july-19th-club]

infuriated outraged upset boss in the building on a saturday . at the DESK on a saturday. observed and overseen . in the panopticon and i dont even have a little coffee drink

[toastsnaffler]

I have to be up for work in 3 hours and I'm gonna be real I think ive hit the point where I might not be getting any sleep at all. for fucks sake.

[unpretty]

a fact about me is that i was an early bloomer who hit puberty in elementary school and was immediately, obnoxiously horny in ways that were uncomfortable for everyone because no one is prepared for an elementary schooler with b cups and a deep fascination with movies where people get tied up. another fact is that because i was considered smart for my age in the ways that mattered, i just accepted all this as a single package, the many ways that i was not really a child the way other children were children but was instead a miniature adult. i was technically a child, but not really, as far as i was concerned. it also did not occur to me until around high school that i was fat, because i instead considered myself to be sturdy, to be buff, to be built like a tank.

so somewhere around middle school i am noticing the ways in which i am Not Like Other Girls, the ways in which i am not what society says a girl is and the ways that things marketed to girls do not appeal to me. i don't know how other girls dealt with this, but i very rationally decided that i was only technically a girl, in the way that i was only technically a child. so i looked at the things that did appeal to me, and that i did enjoy, and reverse engineered my demographic to decide that on a practical and functional level i was a middle-aged man. i had also gotten really hornily into wolverine because of the first x-men movie, and ended up reading a lot of comics, so as you can imagine the comic book version of wolverine who is short and built like a tank and older than he looks despite being for all intents and purposes a middle aged man really had some appeal to me.

there are idiots who say shit about how tomboys would be considered trans these days or whatever, but i can assure you that was not what was happening here. by middle school i already had to special order bras and i was fine with that because of the many weird fetishes i was developing, none of which can be blamed on the internet because i hadn't found that shit yet and also to this day you would have a hard time finding anything similar to the things i wrote in my secret notebook and immediately destroyed. the fact that i was technically a girl was vital to all this. media where there was a big reveal that some cool dude had been a hot chick the whole time was my shit. weird feral beast people who turned out to be hot women once they took a bath? fuck yes. i would never have cut my hair because that would have ruined my chances to take off a helmet and reveal that i had girl hair. at no point did i think i was anything but a girl, it was just that i was functionally a middle-aged man, who was a girl.

what this means is that i still liked all the things i already liked, such as leather jackets and comic books and anime and old stand-up comedy, but i also did extensive research on the other things i felt i should like according to the demographic i had assigned myself. i watched vh1's 'i love the 70s' with the air of someone trying to hide their amnesia, even though my parents were children in the 70s. i got into the beatles. i tried to get into cars for a while before accepting that i only liked the vintage car aesthetic and couldn't be fucked to know actual car facts. i wore nothing but cargo shorts and aloha shirts for a while, which didn't really stand out that much because it was middle school. i bought a fedora and became a libertarian atheist. i made plans to buy a motorcycle (i could not ride a bike).

i gave up on it after a while because quite frankly my titty situation meant there was never really going to be a big reveal that i'd been a girl the whole time. it was pretty obvious even with the cargo shorts. also the older of a teen i was, the more likely it felt that i could maybe get laid, except i could tell that was never going to happen as long as i kept wearing cargo shorts. it took longer to give up the fedora because it was leather and i wore it with my leather jacket and fingerless gloves, which i convinced myself worked a lot better after i'd gone full high school goth. i lived in the desert so you can imagine how well that worked out for me, smell-wise.

anyway that's how my female socialization went, i don't think it was particularly successful tbqh

[talaok]

PostOutbreak!Joel likes reader but he tries to hide it because of the age gap. To try and put us off, he can be a bit standoffish/mean but Ellie can tell it’s a facade and tells him to drop it and the age thing doesn’t matter if you really like each other. Then a fluffy confession omggg

Pairing: PostOutbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: unspecified age gap, joel being a lil insecure and scared, and Ellie being a menace, but its mostly all fluff who am i kidding

a/n: this was the cutest fucking request ever, thank you anon

You know those books or movies where it's painfully clear to everyone but the two main characters that they love each other, and you keep reading or watching thinking "How could anyone not see that he likes her?" as you increasingly get more frustrated and annoyed?

Well, this is a bit like that,

not a bit actually, completely so.

And in this metaphor, you and Joel were the two oblivious main characters, while Ellie, poor Ellie, was the unfortunate witness of your blindness.

It was so incredibly clear to her that she sometimes struggled not to laugh at your interactions.

I mean the first time Joel saw you was the very first time she'd seen him blush and forget how to speak in the span of a second- it was hilarious.

And then when he'd catch him staring at you or pretend not to purposely take the longer route home just to catch a glimpse of you outside the bakery... it was hard to only chuckle underneath her breath, but she managed... 

until today

Joel slammed the door as he got it, like really loud, not like his usual slam.

"what's wrong?" Ellie asked, her brows frowning in suspicion as he kicked his boots off his feet before halfheartedly dragging them to the kitchen where she was sitting.

"nothin'" he grumbled, 

Now that made Ellie sigh with annoyance,

he was always the one to blab about how she could always confide in him, and if that was the truth, then that meant it went both ways.

"Y'know a grumpy old man once told me that it's good to share how you're feeling" She tilted her head to the side, raising her brow as Joel rolled his eyes, filling a glass with water "Would be real hypocritical of him to not take his own advice..."

Said old man, was now rolling his eyes even harder, drowning the full glass in a second

"'s nothing, don't worry 'bout it"

"Joel" Ellie only glared at him,

and as always when it was her,

he was convinced faster than he liked to admit

He sighed, before speaking "It's stupid" he said

"I don't care" Ellie shrugged, placing her elbows on the kitchen counter where she sat and using her hands to support her head, her whole focus on Joel,

who sighed, again.

"I just-" he placed the glass in the sink before turning back to her "I just saw y/n talking to I guy I-"

"Oh my god you're jealous!" she said it with such enthusiasm and with such a smile pulling at her lips that you would have guessed she'd just won the lottery

"no" Joel frowned, shaking his head "What are you on about? I'm not jealous, I just don't like the guy"

"yeah" Ellie snorted "I'm sure you just "don't like the guy"" she air quoted as she laughed 

"Why would I be jealous?" Joel went on pretending,

perhaps lying to himself together with her, the jury was still out.

"I'm just worried for her-" he argued "she's too kind and too fucking nice and Jake's an asshole"

again, Ellie only smiled as she watched him lie so blatantly

"why would you be jealous?" she pondered his question with amusement "well I don't know... maybe 'cause you have the biggest fucking crush on her"

"What!?" he spat "I don't know what's going on with you today, where did you get all these ideas? I-"

"Oh my god please shut up Joel" she groaned, rolling her eyes "That rude asshole act you do around y/n may work with her, but you don't fool me, Miller"

Ellie could swear she saw a hint of panic in his eyes

"I know you like her, just like I know she likes you" She finally said, done with this little act "I honestly don't get why you two don't just declare your love to one another and live happily ever after or some shit"

It was like he froze,

and while Ellie thought it was because he'd just been busted by a 14-year-old, it was for a wholly different reason

"she doesn't like me" he stated

And at that, at that Ellie could just groan as her palm descended dramatically down the length of her face

God, she'd always known he wasn't the brightest, but this? This is a little too much even for him

"Are you blind or something?" she threw her hands out for emphasis "She's definitely better at hiding it than you, I'll give you that, but I mean, still... it's fucking obvious dude!"

"Ellie" Joel only shook his head "you 'don't know whatcha talkin' 'bout"

Ellie was now very close to yelling at him.

"Joel I'm serious, she likes likes you!" she argued, "why do you find that so hard to believe?"

But of course, Ellie couldn't have known what was going on in Joel's mind, how certain he was that it wasn't true,

about how he knew he didn't deserve someone like you, someone so kind and beautiful and smart,

how he had spent months trying to get the thought of you to leave his tainted mind,

how he'd decided to be mean, rough, rude to you in the hopes that you would stop being so nice to him, in the hopes that you would start to avoid him, to hate him, and he'd never have to see you or that gorgeous smile again.

And finally, Ellie didn't know about how he was too incredibly, terribly old for you, for such a pretty young woman.

Half his hair was gray for god's sake, he never had a chance

"I could be her father Ellie" he finally confessed what had been eating up at him for so long "I'm too fuckin' old"

Ellie didn't even need a moment to take that it, she listened, thought about it, and immediately rolled her eyes

"SO WHAT?" 

You don't understand how long she had to pretend not to want to give the both of you a good shake, 

it was only right for her to finally shout it out

"First of all, you're not that old" she started listing, "second of all, she obviously doesn't care" she continued "and finally Joel, if you really like her, and if she really likes you, then it doesn't matter!"

But Joel was not convinced, he'd spent too long telling himself the opposite, and he couldn't even fathom the possibility of what Ellie was saying

"you just have to tell her"

she said it like it was easy, like the mere thought of it didn't give Joel a minor heart attack, like he hadn't woken up from multiple dreams where he would confess his love and you would laugh at his face, or worse, tell him you felt the same, something Joel knew not to be the truth.

Also, Joel had no idea when exactly throughout this conversation he'd admitted to liking you, but I guess it didn't matter now, it made no sense to keep the farse on.

"I can't Ellie, I-"

"oh my god you're such a chicken" she moaned "You're the one that always tells me to be brave!"

"that's different"

"how!?" she bugged her eyes, holding her palms up in show of her frustration "I get that it's scary, but what's the worst thing that could happen?"

And that, for some reason, stuck with him,

He really had nothing to lose,

It's not like you were friends or you would talk often, it's not like he would be ruining a relationship, there wasn't one,

And yet... yet it still terrified him,

"Ellie... I don't know"

"c'mon man, but your big boy pants on" she groaned "I'm telling you, she fucking likes you"

__ __ __

Joel didn't do it.

He couldn't. He just-

You were perfect, you were perfect in a way that made him feel all the more dirty,

like being close to you, talking to you, touching you... would be like plucking a flower with torn-up hands, 

And fuck him, but Joel was scared, like he'd gone back 40 years and become 16 all over again.

He couldn't do it, he couldn't, wouldn't do it, and he'd set his mind to that, made peace with his cowardness and dread.

Until of course, Ellie's twisted mind came up with a way to force his fears to life.

"Howdy"

The kid was smiling so broadly that she looked like a child with a brand-new toy,

but Joel's eyes were somewhere else,

he was looking at you

"Hi Joel" you smiled, punching a knife into his gut

You were at his front door with his kid, who was very clearly plotting something, and Joel wondered for a moment if this was what would finally make his heart give out.

"Hi," he said, his voice sounding distant

Why is she here?

"Aren't you gonna let us in?" Ellie urged, 

Us?

"Uhm, I-"

but Ellie had already sneaked inside, dragging you behind

And now the awkward scene was even more awkward, just at the entrance of his home.

"All alright" Ellie clapped her hands, watching Joel stare at you as you tried to avoid his gaze "I'm gonna go to my room," she said, shouldering him not so subtly

"Cool down dude" she mumbled, before disappearing upstairs.

What the fuc-

"I'm sorry to barge in like this" you finally spoke, a gentle smile on your lips "Ellie said you needed to tell me something, so I just... came here I guess" you finished with an awkward laugh

Fuck-fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-

"If it's too much trouble I'll just go-"

"no," Joel said, before he could stop himself, finally realizing he was still holding the door's knob, and in a spur of bravery, deciding to use it to close the door.

"Oh, ok" you mumbled, puzzled by his demeanor "so uhm, what is it you needed to tell me?"

God damn that fucking trick-playing kid of his

"do you- do you want something to drink?"

the question took you aback, but then you did something that stunned Joel even more, you laughed,

you laughed softly, quickly, like you were letting out all this stupid awkwardness in a simple gesture

because that's how you were: Magical

"Sure" you shrugged, grinning "some water would be nice"

If Joel had to watch your face for an instant more he feared he was gonna explode, so he did all he could think of, he walked to the kitchen, only glancing at you again when he handed you your drink,

to his dismay, finding a smile still drawn on your lips.

"thank you" you said, taking a sip

god, even the way your lips wrapped around the rim made him want to drop to his knees.

He needed to get a grip.

"so... are you gonna tell me or do I have to guess?" you joked, your fingers drawing patterns on the glass

Was this really happening?

Was this hell?

"I..." he trailed off, running a hand through his hair as he glanced from the counter to you on repeat "I wanted to tell you that..."

"that?"

"that- the uhm-" he shut his eyes for a second, searching for words "the...bread you gave us this week was real good"

Goddamnit

"oh"

Even you couldn't hide your disappointment

I mean, you certainly didn't expect it. A compliment from Joel Miller? What universe were you in? 

Just like you didn't expect any of this... him actually letting you in his house or offering you water...

You had half expected him to shut the door in your face,

The most he had ever given you was a half smile at a joke you told him while he was picking up bread, the rest were all rude grumbles or just a bunch of stoic looks... 

and yet... yet a part of you couldn't help but have set expectations a little higher.

What a silly fool you'd been, 

hoping for a love confession from a man who has made it very clear he despises you,

but still- a girl can dream, right?

"thank you" you mumbled, as Joel cursed himself over and over in his head "that's very nice of you," you smiled, stalling a second to see if he was gonna say something else, interrupt you at some point,

but he remained silent

"well if that's all, I'm gonna go then, thank you for the water I-"

Until he wasn't

"no-stop- I-"

Ellie was right. 

He had to do this, he had to win his fear and try at least, or he was gonna regret it for the rest of his life, and he already had too many of those.

The problem was that you looked really beautiful today, and he'd never been good with words

Fuck it- if he was gonna make a fool of himself so be it,

He had nothing to lose and everything to win,

he had you to win.

"Yes?" you asked, trying to tame your hopes down

Think Joel, think

how the fuck do you tell a woman you like her?

"There's one other thing I've been meaning to tell ya" he cleared his throat, standing up straighter as he took a step closer to you.

"'m not great at doing this type of thing" he admitted, shaking his head slightly "but Ellie... she's right, I'm always tellin' her to be brave and everythin', so... I guess it's my turn now," he said, letting out a short, anxious laugh "I don't even know- I guess what I'm tryna say is that I'm gonna be honest now, but I want you to know that- that I know what you're gonna say and it's ok" he swallowed thickly, preparing himself from your inevitable rejection "I understand, really, I just- I thought I should try at least" 

What was going on?

What the fuck was he saying?

"Joel, what are you talking about?"

This was it.

It was now or never.

"Y/n I-"

his heart was beating out of his chest, and his legs felt like jelly, but he had to do it, he had to take a leap of faith-

"Y/n I like you" he breathed like the words longed to be out of his mouth "I like you a lot, I have for a while now"

he watched your mouth part, your whole face filling with shock as you blinked over and over, trying to make sure this was really happening.

"Y-you like me?"

"yes" he nodded "And as I said, I know you don't feel the same, I know I'm old, and I've been an asshole to you all this time, so it's ok, really I-"

"stop talking Joel" you huffed a laugh, stepping closer, and then closer again, until your hand was on his arm "please just-" you bit down a smile, and he was so confused, so fucking confused, "say it again," you asked

"I like you y/n" he murmured, trying to get his mind to start working again,

but you were leaning closer,

and who cared what his name was anyway

"you were rude to me"

"I was, I'm sorry I-"

You pretended to be thinking about it, glancing upwards as you pursed your lips together

But who were you kidding?

"you're forgiven" you smiled, looking up at him as you slowly raised yourself on your tiptoes to gently, oh so gently, press your lips to his.

Joel was certain he had just died.

But then he opened his eyes again, and you were still there, beaming up at him, and he felt such a wave of happiness that he could have started crying right there,

only he took on a different route and grabbed each side of your face with his hands, crashing his lips with yours and kissing you, kissing you like he'd been dreaming of for months

exactly how you imagined he would,

better than you imagined, actually

so much better.

"Ha! I told you, Joel!"

He groaned as he leaned away, shooting Ellie an annoyed glance

"What are you doin' here?"

"just came here to gloat" she shrugged, watching you two with a grin plastered on her face

"I think you've done enough of that" he muttered, but you could only smile

"thank you, Ellie," you grinned "Thank you for doing this"

She raised her brows, looking at Joel as if saying "See, she's thanking me, why aren't you?", but then her expression got more genuine as she shot you a smile

"you're welcome" she smiled "Better having to see you kiss than having to put up with Joel being all sad 'cause you're talking to Jack or any other guy"

You gasped with amusement as Joel shut his eyes in embarrassment, his cheeks tainting with red

"Ellie-" Joel grumbled, 

A soft giggle flowed through the room as Ellie turned away and went back up to her room, seemingly satisfied with her work

"You were jealous?" you teased him, your hands on his chest, while he'd moved one of his from your face to your waist.

"maybe I was" he fessed up

You smiled even brighter 

"And you like me?" you asked for the thousandth time

"yes, sweetheart, I really fuckin' like you" he smiled too now, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that made time stand still and the world spin around

"I like you too Joel" you finally said, giving the man an actual mini-stroke.

"say it again"

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。2:09 AM — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)

contents. college au!, rich boy! gojo, established relationships, alcohol consumption (gojo), mentions of his rude dad tryna break y’all up >:(

it’s test night. meaning you have a very important test that will heavily weigh on your grade coming up at 8:30 am sharp. gojo should know not to bother you—you’ve told him at least one million times (maybe one billion) that you absolutely will not be coming over.

but judging by the insistent knocking on your door, he’s failed to listen to your warnings and decided to come to you instead. so you decide you’re going to kill him as soon as you open that door—you’re going to walk up, open the door, cup his cheeks and take one last good look at that beautiful face, and then you’re going to kill him and bury him somewhere where no one will find him.

except when you open the door, ready to scold your painfully irritating boyfriend, you’re greeted by his best friend instead. geto has gojo slung over his shoulder with a tired enough look on his face that you almost feel bad for him even after he’s ruined your sleep. almost.

“it’s two am,” you say, unimpressed. gojo perks up as he hears your voice, slurring your name as he tries to take a step towards you—if not for geto’s arm around his waist, you’re pretty sure your boyfriend would face plant onto the floor.

“yes, and i’ve dealt with him until this long. it’s your turn,” geto grumbles.

“just take him home, i don’t want him,” you wrinkle your nose. gojo whines in disbelief, still too drunk to stand on his own two feet or form proper words. you raise a brow and then promptly decide to ignore him.

“well, i don’t want him either,” geto huffs, “and he doesn’t want to go home. he went at it with his father again.”

“then make him sleep in his car.”

“he’s your boyfriend,” geto insists.

“he’s your best friend. you’ve known him longer.”

“you know him just as well,” he argues, “plus, you fuck him. that’s way more than what i do.”

“suguru!” you sputter, earning a sly grin from the dark-haired jerk standing before you—maybe you should kill both of them and hide their bodies in your freezer.

but then again, your tiny freezer in your run-down apartment that you can hardly afford as a tired, overworked college student couldn’t possibly fit two oversized men with abnormally large limbs. so instead, you offer geto a not-so-appropriate hand gesture (that he graciously returns) and grab gojo from his arms.

and instantly, gojo brightens.

“baby!” he slurs, kissing your cheeks with sloppy, scattered pecks. you crinkle your nose at the smell of alcohol surrounding you as soon as he enters your personal space.

“he’s your problem now,” geto mutters, rolling his eyes at the headache he’s had to supervise for the entirety of the night. you suppose you can feel a little bad for him—but only a tiny bit.

“wanna crash on the couch?” you ask sympathetically. it earns a soft smile from geto before he shakes his head.

“nah, i’ll go home. thanks.” with an affectionate flick to your forehead, he turns and walks back to his car, leaving you with the lanky, drunken mess leaning half his body weight on you.

you really should kill gojo satoru—and you should do it before 8:30 am.

“didn’t i tell you i have a test?” you grumble, dragging him to your bedroom.

he flops unceremoniously onto your mattress, snuggling with the stuffed bear by your pillows. and you should stay strong, but before you can help it, you smile softly at the sight.

“i won this for you,” he grins, his sunglasses crooked and falling to the tip of his nose. you grab them from his face and set them on your nightstand.

“yes, i know,” you roll your eyes, “i was there.”

“you kept it,” he giggles, words still slurred and messy.

“yes, satoru,” you snort, “i kept the stuffed bear my boyfriend won me. it’s not a surprise.”

“‘s right,” he nods, “‘m your boyfriend. best one you ever had, huh?”

“sure,” you sigh, pulling him by the arm to sit up. he puckers his lips as soon as his face is close enough to yours, looking at your expectantly.

“gimme a kiss. i need a kiss,” he demands.

“satoru, you’re drunk,” you sigh, trying to work the sweaty button-up off his body, “and you smell like beer.”

gojo is well built—he doesn’t seem like it because he’s a bit lanky and has an awful sense of fashion that doesn’t do his figure any justice, but he’s well built. you try your best not to stare at the sculpted abs and the curves of his pecs—especially not the slight sweatiness of the skin that makes it almost glisten.

nope. you keep your eyes trained on him, not his shirtless torso.

except gojo satoru is nothing if not observant even in his drunken stupor—he grins that shit-eating grin of his that you hate so much but fall in love with every time, noticing the way your eyes wander back to his chest every few seconds for a fleeting glance.

“you don’t have’ta sneak a look, baby,” he slurs smoothly, chuckling, “‘m all yours. wanna feel?” and because he’s an asshole, he grabs your hand and lays it flat on his chest. “i’ve been working out with suguru. can you tell?” he winks.

“no,” you say flatly, pushing him back onto the mattress once you’ve worked his shirt off, “now sleep.”

“can’t sleep unless i’m in boxers,” he pouts, “can you take my pants off for me?”

and he even dares to bat his long, unfairly pretty eyelashes at you, putting on his best innocent face. you see past him, though—you see the smirk he tries to hide and the amusement in his clouded eyes.

you’re definitely going to hide his body in your freezer.

“you’ll live,” you huff.

“please,” he pouts deeper, “can’t sleep in these. too uncomfortable.”

“fine,” you hiss, and for a brief moment, you mourn the sleep you should be getting right before the most crucial midterm of your life.

you glare at his cheeky grin as you work his belt off, unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down his legs, grumbling curses under your breath. this time, you make careful work not to stare at his lower half—you refuse to give him the satisfaction.

“are you ready for sleep now, your highness?” you ask with a raised brow. he giggles and nods, holding an arm out for you.

“c’mere.”

and….well, you can’t exactly complain once you’re nestled comfortably in his arms, cheek pressed against the bare skin of his chest. his arm wraps around your body tightly, pulling you close as he plants a wet kiss on your forehead.

“you’re a handful,” you sigh, “did you bother suguru too much?”

“nope,” he shakes his head, “i was on my best behavior.”

“you’re never on your best behavior,” you grin, rolling your eyes. and because you love him, even when he calls you as you study and crashes your apartment as you try to sleep, you lean up and kiss his jaw sweetly, making him hum happily. “goodnight, satoru.”

“you forgot to say i love you.”

“i hate you.”

“so mean,” he whines, making you giggle.

“i love you,” you murmur, “i’ll love you a whole lot more if you let me sleep for my test.”

“kay,” he yawns, wrapping his arms tighter around you, “i love you too.”

it’s silent for a bit, just the steady breaths from gojo and the loud air conditioning ringing in the distance. you’re sure he’s asleep from the way his chest seems to rise and fall under your cheek slowly—until he speaks up quietly, almost as if he doesn’t want you to hear.

“‘m never breaking up with you,” he whispers, “promise. no matter what that old man says.”

you hold your breath as his warm lips press against your forehead—you’re certain he thinks you’re asleep, and you’re also certain that you were never meant to hear those words in the first place. so you swallow, trying not to give away that you’re still very much awake and very much aware of his words.

and then it hits you—suddenly, you remember the way gojo refused to go home, the way geto mentioned he’d gotten into an argument with his father. it clicks all at once that the subject of this argument must’ve been you—gojo’s father has never been subtle about his disapproval, and it’s no secret he’d greatly prefer that the heir of his company stopped dating someone entirely out of his realm—someone like you.

“you’re it for me,” he mumbles softly. you think he sounds a bit more sober as he speaks the words against your forehead—and for a moment, you think that gojo is it for you too. 

maybe you’re not so mad about your sleep anymore. maybe, as he kisses your forehead one last time, as his breath slowly evens out and his grip loosens slightly around your body, you fall in love with gojo satoru a little harder. 

stab dadjo and stan suguru ‼️

ps here’s a little part 2

[freedomfireflies]

Insufferable You*

Summary: The third part to Infinite You*

The one where Harry is still in an open relationship with your best friend, so maybe it's time to remind him what he's missing.

Word Count: 7.3k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, edging, spanking, brief exhibitionism, sir kink, masturbation, brief choking

“Kitten…what are you doing?”

Your whimpers are airy. Light. A string of breathless pleas woven between the soft sounds of your fingers fucking into your cunt. And you can’t answer his question. Can’t find the strength to pull yourself away from the pleasure between your thighs.

“Kitten,” he asks again and it’s firm. “Talk to me.”

He’s panting through his request and the sound—the image in your head of the way he must look, fucking his fist to the melody of your voice almost hurts you.

“I’m…I’m playing with my clit,” you answer. He groans. “Just like you do.”

“Just like me, hm?” He curses on his end of the phone and your legs shake. “How?”

“M’pinching it,” you tell him. “And pulling it. The way you like.”

His noises are louder. Needier. He must like the image in his head, too. “God, I’d give anything to see it, baby. Give fucking anything to watch you touch yourself for me.”

Anything. Anything. You shiver. “Yeah? You’d watch me?”

“Mhm.” He’s getting closer and you don’t want this to end. “Sit there on my knees and take every drop in my mouth when you’re done.”

Your hips buck up and your fingers sink deeper. He ruins you even when he’s not here. “I know,” you whisper. Your eyes squeeze shut. “And I’d let you.”

He makes a sound that might be a laugh but could be a strained moan. You aren’t sure. But you don’t really care because it’s beautiful, no matter what it is. “Kitten,” he exhales and your insides twist. “I need you to cum for me, okay? I need to hear you. God, I need to fucking hear you, baby, let me. Come on—”

There’s something in the way he speaks. Like he’s just woken up. Rough and low and thick. He sounds like sex and you miss hearing it in person. But you were desperate—you had to call him. You had to hear him talk you through this moment and you’re so glad you did.

When you cum, it’s everything. Perhaps not as satisfying as when it’s with him, but still euphoric. And your whimpers of pleasure are what send him over the edge.

The phone fills with the sounds of your ecstasy and you wish you could record the way he moans your name. You wish you could bottle this feeling and get drunk on the way he adores you. 

Instead, you indulge in the few moments you have with him. Because you know they won’t last much longer.

“That was good,” you tell him breathlessly and he chuckles. “How are you so good at that? Even over the phone?”

“Could ask you the same thing. Now I’ve got a sticky hand and nobody to clean it up.”

You pout. “Stop, don’t tell me that. It’s not fair.”

He laughs again. “Sorry, Kitten. Couldn’t help it. You all right? You feel better?”

“I do. Thank you for letting me call you.”

“Always.”

Your heart skips. “So…what are you up to today?”

There’s a pause. A long pause and you know what he’s going to say even before he says it. “Rebecca and I are running some errands.”

“Oh.” Oh. Your throat goes dry. “Right…sorry, I’m…you probably need to go, don’t you?”

Another pause. “In a bit,” he says. “After I make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you say far too quickly. And far too obviously forced. “Yeah, no, I’m…duh. Obviously I’m okay now. After…yeah. Okay, sorry. You can…I’ll talk to you later—"

“Kitten.”

You stop. “What? I’m…I’m letting you go—”

“Don’t. I want to talk to you a little longer.”

“But you’re busy—”

“It can wait.”

Swallowing, you whisper, “Harry, I’m…I’m just saying—”

“So am I.” He’s firm again. “Don’t do that. Don’t send me away because of her. We can talk. I promise.”

Your eyes squeeze shut. You force the tears back. Why does orgasming make you so emotional? “I know, I just…she’s there, isn’t she?”

Another beat. “Not in the room.”

“But she’s there. In the apartment. Near you.”

“Yes.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “See, that’s…that’s why I’m letting you go. So you can be with her. Okay? I’ll talk to you later—”

“Kitten.”

“Harry.” You huff if only to make yourself sound stronger than you feel. “I’m okay. You can go.”

“You’re not okay. You’re sad.”

“I’m…no, I’m not sad, I’m just…I’m tired. I came really hard.”

“I know you.”

“Well…you don’t know me that well. Cause I’m fine.”

“Baby—”

“Just go,” you insist. “I promise I’m okay as long as you are. I shouldn’t have called so early anyway, that was…I’m sorry. That was my mistake—”

“You can call when she’s here, you know that—”

“But I don’t want to.”

Another long pause that feels like an eternity. “Okay,” he finally murmurs and you pull the phone away to take in a shaky breath. “But I want your honesty. Okay?”

“Sure.”

“Are you really okay?”

Truthfully, you don’t know. “Yeah, I’m fine. Swear. Thanks for helping me. I’ll talk to you later?”

“You will,” he agrees. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Rebecca’s dinner.”

Fuck. You forgot. “Oh…right—”

“You’ll be there. Right?”

It doesn’t really feel like you have a choice. “I…I don’t know yet, I might be busy—”

“You’re not.”

“You don’t know that. I could have plans.”

“You do. With us.”

Us. Your nose scrunches. “I mean other plans—”

“You don’t.”

“I might—”

“You don’t. If you did, I’d know.”

“Well, that’s presumptuous.”

“Maybe, but it’s true. Because you talk to me. When I ask you a question, you answer honestly. You’re a good girl. I know you.”

Your chest feels tight again. “Well, I don’t tell you everything.”

“You should.”

“You don’t tell me.”

“Because you don’t ask.”

He’s right. You never ask him anything personal because honestly, you’re afraid of what he’ll say.

“Fine,” you agree. “I’ll be there. Are we done?”

He waits a moment before saying, “We’re not done. We’ll discuss this later. But for right now, yes.”

And even if he sounds a bit strict, you can’t help smiling. “Yes, Sir.”

“Mm. That’s my girl. Take it easy today, all right?”

“I will.”

“Good. See you tomorrow, Kitten.”

“Goodbye, Sir.”

He chuckles and you hang up and even despite everything else…you can’t help but grin.

“Oh, my god. He does. Every time. He’s got such a weird thing with feet.”

You laugh. “It wasn’t so bad at first. But then he got a little too comfortable—”

“No, he does that. He really does.” Rebecca smirks as she throws the freshly chopped carrots into her pot. “And it started out cute, but now…”

You both glance into the living room where Harry is relaxing on the sofa. He’s smiling as he watches the two of you work on the food and even if he can’t hear you, he must know you’re talking about him.

“It’s still cute,” you argue in his defense. “Gross…but cute.”

She laughs. “Yeah, I guess he can be cute when he wants to be.”

You grin together and this feels good. You’ve missed your friend. You’ve missed having someone to laugh with, gossip with. And maybe it was strange at first, to come into their apartment and talk to your best friend about sleeping with her boyfriend.

But after a minute or two, you settled right back into the familiar rhythm of your friendship. And it almost felt…normal. 

“Has he done the thing where his left leg starts to shake when he gets overstimulated?” she asks and you nearly snort. 

“Oh, my god. Yes. The other day. I thought he was having a heart attack.”

“It’s the funniest thing. It just started, too. Couple years ago. He swears it doesn’t but like…I can see it.”

“It’s quite the tell,” you agree and you can’t help the way your eyes drift back to where he’s lounging on the sofa.

He notices and smirks at you.

“What?” you call.

He shrugs. “Nothing. You girls are cute, that’s all.”

“Bite me,” Rebecca says and he chuckles. “We’re not cute. We’re hot.”

“Absolutely,” he agrees. He leans forward. “Let me guess. You’re telling her about the leg thing?”

“Yup. And I was right,” she says smugly. “She sees it, too.”

His eyes roll but he smiles at you. “It’s not that bad—”

“No, it is,” she argues. “You look like a dog. A very cute dog, but still.”

He laughs a little louder and you’re almost jealous of their dynamic. A dynamic you’ve been witness to for almost five years. And it’s never made you jealous before.

But now…

She puts the soup on simmer and grabs your hand to lead you to the living room. “I told you we were gonna gossip about you,” she reminds him. “All good things, don’t worry.”

“I’m sure.” He smiles at you both as you take a seat on the sofa. She flops down right beside him while you cautiously sit on the other end. Exactly where you’d been that first day you agreed to this arrangement. “This is nice,” he says.

She hums. “Yeah, it feels like old times.” She glances toward you. “And it’s not weird…is it? I mean, you feel okay?”

Feeling a little hot under the spotlight, you swallow and force a quick shake of your head. “No, this is…it’s good. This is fun.”

However, she knows you better than anyone and her brows pull together as she studies you. “Do you have any questions? Or anything we can clear up?”

“Uh…I don’t know.” Truthfully, you don’t want to ask. “Is it…is it weird for you guys?”

They both shake their heads, almost as if in sync, and you resist the urge to scrunch your nose.

“Do you…have any regrets?”

“No,” she says and Harry agrees. “None. Do you?”

“No,” you echo. “No, I just…I don’t know. This still kind of feels like cheating.”

They exchange a glance and your heart skips. You’re even jealous of the way they look at each other.

“Rebecca and I have always agreed that whatever the other decides to do is their business,” Harry says. “As long as we communicate, there's freedom there. No judgment, no expectations, no regret.”

“And no jealousy,” she adds, offering you a soft smile. “Or shame. Or anything like that.”

You nod and pick at a loose string on your jeans. “And are you two…I mean do you still…”

“No,” she assures you and you’re thankful she figured out what you meant. “No, we haven’t in a few weeks.”

“Oh…because of me?”

She shakes her head while Harry says, “Not entirely. Most of it is for safety reasons. Keeping things clean and respectful. But it’s also one of our rules.”

“Rules?”

“We have a few rules we like to follow,” she explains. “It just makes it easier. Sometimes it can be tricky and this helps keep us on the same page.”

“And no sex is one of them?”

“Kind of. We don’t sleep together if one of us is seeing someone else. Well, no penetration, anyway.”

You hate the way your stomach sinks. “Oh. And…do you date other people…a lot?”

He looks over at her and she thinks. “Not…really?” she says. “I don’t think, anyway.”

“Jack was the last guy you were with, right?” Harry asks and she snaps her fingers.

“Jack. Right. Yeah. He was cute. And then yours was…Angie? I think?”

He nods. “Last year.”

“She was nice.”

“She was…sure. Yeah. She was nice.”

Rebecca laughs and he grins proudly, happy to have made her laugh. Your nose scrunches.

“She wasn’t that bad,” Rebecca argues. “She was just put in a weird position.”

“Literally and figuratively.”

She smacks his arm playfully and he pinches her thigh. You want to look away. 

“Either way,” she finally says, “we don’t very often. And I don’t think of it as cheating. Especially not with you. Because I know he’s a good partner and I know that you deserve someone as kind as he is.” 

He gives her a grateful grin before returning his attention to you. “We can stop if you want. Because I agree with Bex. I wouldn’t want to lose you as my friend and if you feel pressured or unsure—”

“I don’t,” you nearly rush to argue. “No, I don’t, I…I’m just really struggling with the dynamics of it. I guess.”

“Trust me, I get it,” she says gently. “It was a bit of a learning curve for us, too. Harry can get incredibly jealous.”

You’re tempted to tell her that you already know but you watch his reaction instead.

His eyes roll but then his stare returns to you and he winks, as though he’s recalling the same memory you are. 

It makes your skin feel warm.

“Oop, hold on. I gotta check the soup,” Rebecca suddenly exclaims before jumping off the sofa to rush back to the kitchen.

And now left alone together, your attention is drawn back to the tall, handsome man you can already feel staring at you.

“Any more questions?” he asks softly. He leans forward and places his elbows on his knees and somehow, even that makes you feel safer. 

“Just one,” you murmur and he nods. “Does this mean you and I are…dating? Or are we just fucking until I can find somebody else?”

There’s a slight edge in your voice that you hadn’t meant to be there, but he picks up on it instantly.

“Are you looking for somebody else?” he asks.

“Not really. But this whole thing started because you both felt bad for me,” you remind him. “And it’s been a lot of fun. Honestly. But you are kind of on loan. I just…I’m not sure what this makes our situation. If we’re just fucking…or more.”

He takes a moment to think about his answer, eyes flicking between yours almost as though studying you. “Would you like there to be more?”

You bite back huff. He’s very good at redirecting. “I don’t know. Would you?”

“I think more can get complicated.”

Your feel your expression fall. “Right.”

“And I don’t want to lose you from my life for good,” he continues. “You know that. Neither of us want to lose you—”

“Right, yeah. It’s fine. Forget I asked.”

He’s frowning now. “Kitten, don’t do that—”

“No, really,” you argue. “It’s fine. You’re right. Let’s just keep it like this until I can find somebody else.”

The frown turns into a glare. “Kitten—”

“Okay, soup is almost done,” Rebecca announces as she returns. This time she sits next to you and throws an arm around your shoulder. “What did I miss?”

The tension is palpable. You speak first. “I was just telling Harry that I might not need his services much longer.”

Rebecca’s eyebrows raise while Harry’s scowl deepens.

“Oh?” she asks.

You nod. “Well, seeing as we don’t want to do anything to ruin the friendship…I thought I’d give Ethan a call.”

It’s mean and perhaps a bit cruel, but you can’t help yourself. You aren’t trying to hurt him. Because he is right. And don’t want to lose him for good, either, and all this evening has truly done is prove how close he and Rebecca actually are.

You’ll never be able to compete with five years of love and affection. And maybe you don’t want to.

Maybe it’s time to move on.

“Ethan?” Harry repeats while Rebecca perks up.

“Yes,” she squeals excitedly. “Oh, I was hoping you would. He’s so nice, I think you guys would be perfect together.”

“Yeah,” you agree with a pointed look at Harry. “I think so, too.”

He knows what you’re doing. You can tell. And he’s oddly calm as he leans against the cushions and tosses his arms over the back of the couch. “And who the fuck is this Ethan?”

“Guy from my work,” you answer, equally as calm. “Nice. He’s been asking me out for a while.”

“A while.”

“Yeah, a while.”

His brows furrow. “So why do you want to go out with him now?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “He was never really my type before but we’ve gotten closer recently. I think it’s only fair I give him a real chance.”

“Really?” He’s curious. Maybe skeptical. “Now?”

You nod. “That way the three of us can preserve our friendship. Since that is the most important thing.”

“Well, I think it’s a great idea,” Rebecca tells you and hugs you to her side. “You’ll have to let us know how it goes.”

You grin and it’s all teeth. “I will.”

Dinner is nice. Tense but nice. You and Harry spend a majority of the meal exchanging icy glances and keeping to yourselves, leaving Rebecca to do most of the conversing.

And she doesn’t seem to notice. That or she merely pretends not to. She catches you up on some drama at work. Teases Harry about his sleep talking. Says she’s planning to visit her parents in a few weeks and then gives you the recipe for the soup.

And you and Harry nod politely, despite the unspoken rage from your ends of the table.

When dinner is finished, Harry offers to clean up and do the dishes. She kisses him on the cheek gratefully and says she’s gonna go take a quick shower since she’s got an early day tomorrow. She tells you that you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like and then she hugs you tightly and whispers, “I’m so glad we’re still friends.”

You hug her back and agree.

The moment she’s gone, Harry sets down his sponge and turns to you. “Come here.”

You hesitate by the front door, itching to escape. But he’s firm as he watches you from the sink, eyebrow raised and jaw clenched, leaving you no choice but to listen.

“Kitten,” he repeats. Lower. Sterner. “Come. Here.”

You take a tentative step toward him. “What?”

“We need to talk.”

“Do we?”

“Kitten.”

You huff and throw your purse back down. “I really don’t think we need to—”

“I don’t care what you think. I’m telling you that we’re gonna have a chat and you’re gonna come in here like a good fucking girl and talk to me.”

This is how he gets you. This is how he pulls your strings and turns you around until you obediently join him in the kitchen. Like a good fucking girl.

Satisfied, he leans back against the counter. “Now. What’s this Ethan shit you pulled?”

“It’s not shit, it’s real,” you huff. “He really did ask me out and I really am going to say yes.”

“But you haven’t yet.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I told you. He wasn’t my type—”

“No, I want the real answer.”

You frown. “That is the real answer—”

“No,” he repeats. “It’s not. And you know it.”

You cross your arms and look down at your shoes. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. He wasn’t my type but now he is.”

The argument lulls and the small kitchen falls silent. You hear him sigh and it almost hurts to hear how heavy his disappointment hangs.

But a moment later, he’s slipping his fingers beneath your chin and raising your eyes to his. They’re soft. Serene. Filled with everything he can’t seem to find the words to say and you hate how quickly your body begins to crave him.

“You aren’t being honest with me, baby,” he murmurs. Your lashes flutter. “You aren’t communicating with me. And I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say and he sighs like he knows this is a lie. “Really, I just…I know myself. If I don’t put a bit of distance between us…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to breathe on my own.”

This makes him sad and it hurts you to know you’ve made him sad. “Kitten,” he whispers. He steps closer until his chest is brushing against yours. “If I’m doing something wrong—”

“You’re not. That’s the problem.” You swallow and he brushes his thumb along your jaw. “You’re doing everything right and I’m worried I’m gonna want you in ways that I shouldn’t.”

“Do you not want to want me?”

“Not…like that,” you admit. “Not when you’re still hers.”

He frowns. “I told you, you don’t have to worry about anyone else—”

“But I do. Because at the end of the day, you’re still her Harry. You’re on loan to me until one of you decides you shouldn’t be anymore—”

“Kitten—”

“And I can’t be with you in any way but physically. You said so yourself. More would get complicated and even if you wanted to be with me…I don’t think I could share you.”

 He considers this. A long moment passes. “So you’re punishing me,” he says. “You’re going out with this Ethan guy to prove that you don’t need me.”

“What? No.” You lean back but he doesn’t let go of your chin. “I mean…okay, maybe I wanted to piss you off a little but I really do think I need to be with someone else in order to truly move on. I’m not punishing you. I’m…obeying you. If anything.”

He scoffs. “If you really wanted to obey me, you would have talked to me about what you were feeling.”

“I tried. You said more would get complicated.”

“It could. There’s always that risk. But I never said it wouldn’t be worth it.”

“So…what? You’d date me?”

“Of course.”

The answer is quick and it surprises you but it doesn’t seem to surprise him.

You blink. “You…really? You would date me? Like…officially?”

“I would.”

“And…what about Rebecca?”

“What about her?”

“You’d…you’d still be with her? Right? Even if we were together?”

He seems to know what you’re implying and sighs quietly. “Yes. I would.”

“And even if you weren’t…I’m assuming you would still want to be in an open relationship with me?”

Another pause. “Probably,” he admits, and even if you knew it was coming, you can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes. “That’s just the agreement I’ve always felt most comfortable with—”

“And that’s fine. I get it,” you assure him. You sniffle and he seems to wilt. “Really. I just…like I said, I don’t do well with sharing and if…if all we’re doing is fucking, I might as well just find somebody else, right? So that way the three of us can stay friends. And it doesn’t have to get weird.”

“I understand,” he says and you know he does. “I do, Kitten. And I would never keep you in a relationship you’re not comfortable in.” A beat. “But I can’t say that I like the idea of you going out with this guy.”

You smile. Gently. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

He looks down at you and takes your cheek in his hand. “You’re my girl,” he says. “No matter what. If you’re with me or not with me. You’re my fucking girl. And he doesn’t deserve even a second of your time.”

You fight a large grin and cling to his shirt. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

“Because.” You play with his buttons. “You don’t get to be jealous when you’re still with her.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna like seeing you with someone else.”

You pout. “That’s not fair, Harry.”

“I know.” He brings his lips to yours. They hover—close—but never make contact. “I can’t help it. Can’t ever seem to help it when it comes to you.”

You want to push up and take his kiss, but he teases you just a little longer. “Harry—”

“Do you know that, Kitten?” His hands drop to your waist and he squeezes. Even though Rebecca is only two rooms away. Even though you can hear her humming in the bath. Even though he can never be yours. “Do you know how much I think about you?”

You swallow. Thick.

“How I think about the way you asked me to take care of you…” He ghosts his mouth down your neck. “The way you begged me to be rough….to spank you. Choke you. Degrade you.”

His voice is a sin and your eyes fall shut.

“Do you want me to degrade you, baby?” His fingers slip beneath your shirt. “Do you want me to pull you on my lap and spank you until you’re crying?”

The image in your head is somehow even better than his taunting. Your knees about buckle. “Harry…”

“You can find somebody else if you want to,” he whispers. “But do you really think they’ll be able to care of you the way I do? The way you want? The way you deserve?” 

His kisses find your chest while his knee slots between your thighs.

“I know how naughty you really are, baby girl,” he says and it’s over. “He will never know.” 

You grab his hair and he grabs your hips and you’re on the counter before you can even whisper his name. He pushes the hem of your dress up and guides your legs apart. He makes a home there, finger curling around the crotch of your panties in order to get a taste and it’s magic. Always.

And he does this to you only a few hundred feet away from where his girlfriend is innocently taking a shower. He does this, knowing she could walk out and see. He does this and you let him do this because there is no world in which you stop him.

“Harry,” you say—whimper—and he hums. His tongue licks up your cunt and your head drops back. “Har—wait—”

He doesn’t. He holds your thighs beside his cheeks and he sucks on your clit until you begin to squirm. “You promised to stay for dessert,” he says. “This is my dessert.”

The sounds are loud and beautiful and his curls feel good in your hands. You feel good in his.

Things fall to the ground. Bowls, pots, containers. He grins. He likes this, the danger. And he knows you like it, too. Because if you really wanted him to stop, he would. 

But you don’t. And you yank him closer to your pussy as though this will be the last time he ever gets a taste.

And deep down, you wonder if it is.

Either way, you enjoy his tongue and his lips and the tip of his nose that nudges your clit so expertly. You wonder how it’s possible to be so addicted to a man you’re not even with. A man that only recently started fucking you and a man that you’ve only ever considered a friend.

Part of you wants to get caught. Part of you wants things to implode. To believe that he’s doing this because he wants her to find out. Because what would happen if she saw? What would happen if he realized he wanted to end things? Would he be yours? Would he decide that your time and your heart and your pussy were infinitely more important than his sexual prowess?

You scrunch your nose. These are all the wrong questions. Harry doesn’t work like that. He never has and you can’t expect something from him that he won’t ever give you.

You return your focus to him. To the way his large hands are curling around your thighs and hoisting them up on the counter. You love his hands. You think they might be your favorite hands in the world.

They’re so gentle but strong. Practiced. You know they’d look good anywhere on your body. Your thighs, your chest, your throat…

You whimper at the thought and he glances up. He’s proud again. Drenched in your arousal and the evidence of your lust for him.

He moves his mouth to the inside of your leg and nips. He leaves marks and memories along the soft skin and you can’t wait to stare at them whenever he’s not around. The way he makes you his in the only way he can.

And you’re so close. You aren’t even sure how he got you here so quickly but he always seems to. And you don’t mind. Instead, you fist his hair and you buck against his tongue and he’s going to make you cum all over his girlfriend’s kitchen counter.

And then he stops.

He stops, he lets you go, and he pulls away.

Your heart drops to your toes as the orgasm fizzles down to nothing. “What…what are you—"

“Get down,” he says curtly. He slaps your outer thigh. “We’re leaving.”

He doesn’t tell you where you’re going. And you don’t ask. Instead, you watch as he wipes his mouth and disappears from the kitchen to wait by the front door.

After straightening your dress and readjusting your underwear, you scurry to his side with a fretful glance toward the bathroom. “Shouldn’t you tell her you’re going?”

He smiles. “She’ll figure it out.”

With that, you leave their apartment so he can take you back to your place and he keeps his hand on your thigh the whole drive. You wonder if he merely wants to keep some sort of claim on you or if it’s habit. 

Either way, his thumb rubs circles into your skin, right over the dark spots made by his lips and you smile. You want to lace your fingers with his. Want to hold his hand and pretend like the two of you are on your way home from a date. To pretend like this is normal—an everyday occurrence.

But you lose your nerve and soon, he’s pulling into the parking lot.  

“I want you upstairs,” he says and gives you a pointed look. “On the bed. Naked. And waiting for me by the time I come up.”

You nod quickly. “Okay. Are…am I in trouble—”

“That depends on if you obey.” He unlocks the door. “So let’s hope you do.”

Swallowing a giddy grin, you scurry from the vehicle and into your building. You don’t bother with tidying up or adjusting your appearance. You run straight into your bedroom, rip off your clothes, and spread out into a starfish position on the bed.

You hear him follow not much later. Slow, deliberate steps. Meant to taunt you, tease you. Make your stomach flip. And it works.

When you see his tall, muscular figure in the doorway, your pulse skips.

Smiling, you call, “Hi, Sir—”

“No speaking,” he says shortly. “Unless I say otherwise. Is that understood?”

“Yes—no—sorry, I’m…” You stop. Nod. 

He frowns but you know it’s only to hide a smirk. “Don’t test me, Kitten. You’ve already done that enough this evening, have you not?”

Another nod.

“And you knew better, didn’t you?” He walks into the room and begins to unzip his jeans. “Knew better than to dangle fucking Ethan in my face.”

You nod again but your eyes are trained on his hands. On the fingers that pull the hem of his shirt up and over his head.

“And you fucking knew…that if I got a taste of such a sweet pussy…I’d never stop,” he murmurs. He crawls onto the bed, wearing nothing more than his briefs. “That I’d forgive you. And let you off the hook.”

You don’t nod this time. You can’t. You’re too far gone in the lust in his eyes. The gentle green that’s now dangerous and luring you in.

“Well,” he whispers and then he smiles. “You thought wrong.”

He grabs your thighs and flips you over. Before you know it, you’re on your stomach, head spinning, while a large palm comes down in a sharp smack to your ass.

You jolt. Shriek. 

“Easy,” he says and he’s kinder now. “You’re gonna take your punishment like a good little whore, aren’t you?”

Now you understand. You see. And you settle onto the bed as he smooths the stinging print with the soft of his hand. 

You nod.

“Good.” He spanks you again. “I think we should do one for every time you lied to me. For every time I asked for the truth…and you refused to give it to me.”

Your lashes flutter. You suppose that’s only fair, although in your defense, the truth would have only hurt him.

“Let’s see…we’ll start with five,” he says and you exhale a sigh of relief. “Because I know you don’t mean to be a bad girl, do you?”

You whimper.

“You want to be good. Want to behave for me.” He spanks you. Number three. “You want a lot of things from me, don’t you? And maybe I’m bad, too. For not being able to give them to you.”

The air in the room shifts and you attempt to glance back.

However, he lays another firm smack to your ass before you can and then squeezes your hip. “Come on, you’re almost done,” he coos. A beat passes. “Do you remember me mentioning the traffic light system?”

You nod.

“Red for stop, yellow for pause, green for good, keep going?”

Nod.

“Good. Then I want you to use your words and tell me what color you are right now. Honestly.”

“Green,” you whisper, then clear your throat and speak louder. “I’m green. Honestly.”

He hums. “And you’re gonna take your last strike, yes?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And you’re gonna thank me for being so generous to such a selfish fucking whore?”

Your cheeks flush. Oh, he’s very good. “Yes, Sir.”

You still can’t see him but you can imagine his grin.

The last spank of his hand lands against your tender skin and somehow…it feels good. There’s something delicious about his pain. About the way he inflicts it. The way your body responds to it.

You groan—moan—and finally manage, “Thank you, Sir.”

He purrs something devious as he strokes the spot and begins to kiss his way up your spine. “Good fucking girl,” he breathes. The exhale of his praise dances across your back and you shiver. “Took your punishment so well. Wasn’t so bad, was it? Bet you even fucking liked, dirty thing. Didn’t you?”

You nod again and feel his knee begin to nudge its way back between your thighs. 

“Let’s check, shall we?” His fingers move now for the mess you already know is there. And when he feels it, he curses. “Fucking shit, Kitten, you’re soaked.”

You are. You are soaked and you’re making a mess of your duvet and his knee and he still hasn’t let you cum yet and you think you might die if he waits any longer. 

“Harry,” you nearly cry. “Please…please…”

He brings his kisses to the back of your neck. To the place below your ear that makes your stomach flip. He kisses. Sucks. Nips and violates the skin with his teeth.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Okay, but only because I know you need it.”

You nod again and begin to turn over. He goes to stop you—he wants to try from behind—but you insist.

“I want to see your face,” you say. “Please, I just…I need that tonight.”

The softness in his eyes and the fall of his expression almost hurts you. You don’t want to cause him pain or confusion. Ever.

But he’s not confused. He understands. And he agrees because maybe he needs it, too.

You pull him out of his briefs and he hikes your leg around his hip. Until the heel of your foot is digging into his ass and pulling him forward.

When he first pushes in, you both take a moment of silence to appreciate the beauty of your bodies connecting.

Harry was once your best friend and now he’s something else entirely. A completely different entity and you never imagined you’d see his cock disappearing into your cunt but now you don’t want to imagine his cock anywhere else.

When he’s about halfway in, he pulls back out and begins a steady pace. He’s large and he knows you need a moment or two to find the pleasure before he picks up a faster rhythm. So, he puts the focus on you. On your clit, on your thighs, on the way his lips feel against yours.

He kisses you—soft, sweet. Gentle. And then he kisses your neck. Your chest. Plays with your tits and whispers about how good they feel in his hand.

Then, he buries himself to the hilt as his hips find yours.

You arch and he catches you. There are more kisses, more soft murmurings. And there’s an intimacy here that doesn’t feel like sex. It feels like making love, a term you once scoffed at but now indulge in. Because maybe he does love you, in the only way he knows how. Maybe he does choose your body over hers. Maybe this was the best thing that ever could have happened to you. 

You grab his hand and bring it to your throat. Pointed enough that he knows what you want and after a quick glance for consent…he squeezes.

Your lashes flutter and you press on his knuckles. Harder. He obeys.

And you were right. His hand does look good on your body. A necklace to wear proudly and he whispers your name before tightening his grip and allowing the sides of your sanity to go fuzzy before loosening his fingers. 

You breathe. Deep. The air tastes like him and you love it.

He smiles. “You okay?”

“More than okay. That was…shit, I really like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Probably cause you’re doing it.”

He uses this hold to kiss you and it’s a mess of tongues and spit and loud sucking. It makes you giggle.

“You’re making this very hard for me,” he suddenly whispers.

“Well, I prefer you hard.”

He smirks, but this is not what he means. “I want this to work.”

“I know. I do, too.”

He surges forward—a sharp thrust. “It can’t work if Ethan’s in the picture.”

Oh. “Why? Because you need room for Rebecca?”

He sighs and you hate how sad it sounds. “I know I’m not being fair—”

“You’re not.”

“I can’t help it—”

“Well, neither can I.”

He stops for a moment and looks at you. “You have every right to go out with him. I know that. But I think I’ll lose my fucking mind if you do.” He continues to roll his body against yours and you want to purr. “So I want to make a deal.”

“Okay…”

“If you go out with Ethan, you go out with me,” he says. “If you date him, you date me. And I’ll play nice. I’ll share. But only until you realize he’s a waste of time.”

You run your fingers along his shoulders. Along his back. Along the curve of his ass. You think about his proposition. It sounds good, it does. A way to keep him while also keeping your options open. 

Because maybe this way, it won’t hurt so much when he still goes home to her.

“Can I think about it?” you ask. 

He kisses you. “Of course. Always.”

You resume the languid but fervent pace he previously set. He squeezes your neck whenever he wants to hear you whimper and you scratch your nails down his spine whenever you want him to groan.

And it’s perfect. Truly. Because while you’re on this date with Ethan, he’ll be able to see the marks Harry left on your throat.

And when Harry goes back to Rebecca, she’ll see the scratches down his back made by your hands.

You can’t help but feel satisfied with the idea and it brings you that much closer as Harry presses your hips to the bed and begins to fuck into you harder.

He readjusts his stance above you, knees deep into the mattress and hands clutching the sheets beside your waist. And every thrust is purposeful. Hard. Beautiful. The sounds are symphonic and when you look down to see, you nearly mewl. The way his cock is absolutely fucking covered in you, slipping in and out of your cunt with ease and determination. 

He’s beautiful when he’s focused. When he’s about to cum. You just want to kiss him and hold him and love him and be his.

And you fucking hate it.

“Need you to cum, baby,” he whispers and you nod in agreement. “Can you do that?”

“Yes….yes, Sir,” you stammer, already feeling the overwhelming power creep up your thighs. “I’m…I—”

“I know. I know, come on—”

You do. Just like that. Unravel like a spool of thread and dissolve into nothing but pleasure beneath him.

But you don’t feel him follow. In fact, he continues fucking you through your high until he suddenly pulls out and comes all over your swollen pussy.

It’s the most mesmerizing thing you think you’ve ever seen. The sticky substance paints your cunt in masterful strokes. Glistening from your body, your clit, your thighs like stars.

And you want to be disappointed that he didn’t finish inside but soon you understand why.

He takes your hand. Moves it closer and presses your fingers into the mess. 

“Touch it,” he whispers. “Fuck it back in.”

Your eyes widen. He smiles but the look in his eye is mischievous and deranged.

“Go on, Kitten,” he says. “I wanna watch.”

Your arms are shaking. In fact, every part of you is still shaking from your orgasm but you obey. You slowly—very slowly—begin to circle your touch around your clit. Feeling the way it nearly throbs as you stimulate it. As you force it into more pleasure.

Harry’s attention is glued to the show before him as he swallows thickly and you swear you can almost see his heart beating against his chest like a cartoon.

You move down. Collect as many drops of him as you can and slowly begin to ease two fingers into your fluttering hole.

When you reach the knuckle, you gasp and he exhales. 

It’s perfect.

He scoots back until he can lay on his stomach and place his cheek against your thigh. Close. Close enough that you can feel his breath fan across your hand.

And he watches. Happy. A lazy smile on those beautiful, pink lips. Lashes fluttering every time you whimper or whine.

“I…I can’t,” you whisper. The sensations are too strong. You’ve already cum once, you can’t possibly cum again so soon.

He hums. “Yes, you can. Let me see, baby. Let me watch.”

And you almost want to be embarrassed but something else seems to take over your mind entirely and you can’t help but go faster.

You pinch and curl and flex. You push his offering as far into you as you can reach and then you push in a little more. And it’s easier this time, even if it almost hurts. But you cum. You do, right in front of his very eyes until he’s quickly grabbing hold of you as though he’s desperate to be closer.

You’re more than a puddle this time. You’re practically limp but you’re also so incredibly happy. And he smiles brightly as he pulls your fingers away and puts them in his mouth.

You don’t even have the energy to make a noise this time. You merely watch him—content—until he starts kissing down your palm, along your arm, and to your chest.

Then, he pulls you into his embrace and you both indulge in a moment of peace. 

You’re both quiet for a while. Even after your heartbeat has steadied. Even after the sweat on your skin has dried and the room no longer feels so warm. 

You run your fingers down his torso. Along the dips and curves of his muscles that seem more defined every time you see him. 

“You’re insufferable,” you finally say and he laughs. The sound bounces between the walls of your room—joyous and unencumbered—and it makes you giddy. He doesn’t laugh like this for her. “What? You are.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Another beat. Longer.

Then, you whisper, “Okay.”

He looks down. “Okay?”

“I’ll agree to your deal.”

“Really?” He’s grinning again. Big.

“Mhm. As long as I get to keep you in some way…maybe it’ll be worth it.”

He seems to sadden at the use of the word maybe, but he brushes it off before you can comment on it. Instead, he pulls you closer and kisses you hard. Forever. 

And maybe…this won’t be so bad.

Previous Part:

~ Insatiable You* (Pt. 2)

~ Full Infinite You Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @buckybarnessimpp @hannah9921

[kamiversee]

Sharing Is Caring ꨄ (part 3/3)

[ { Synopsis } ] ➤ You'll never accuse your boyfriend Choso of being too jealous of a lover after he reveals to you he has absolutely no problems with sharing you... (part one) (part two)

[ { Need to know } ] ➤This is a What-If scenario that stems from my fic; The F*ck List— A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt.

[ { Content & Warning } ] ➤ f!reader, language, threesome, dirty talk, tw; possible men smooching, rough & semi-soft sex, choking, praise, degrading, etc.

[ { Parings } ] ➤ Choso x f!reader & Gojo x f!reader.

[ { Word Count } ] ➤ 6.8k (this entire thing is so long & I am no longer the same woman I was before I wrote this)

The two men don't think they've ever moved faster to do something in their lives. Gojo was scooping you up into his arms in the blink of an eye and Choso was rushing to clean the mess you'd made of his couch.

They were both oddly in sync, seeming to have had the same thought process of what they were about to do with you and how. Choso stayed where he was to clean up a bit and Gojo was carrying you off in the direction of Choso's bedroom.

He was carrying you bridal style and your eyes were all wide and up on his pretty face. You couldn't read his expression very well and you're not sure if that's because you were too fucked out to do so or if it was because you were just distracted by his features.

It's been so long since you'd been this close to Gojo, you nearly forgot how angelic his features are-- even when he's about to ruin you. Gojo catches onto your staring and glances down at you for a moment as he makes a turn, letting out a soft scoff in reaction to you.

"Why're you lookin' at me like that?" He hums before lifting his gaze and peering down the hallway ahead of him. He had no idea where he was going but he'd soon figure it out.

You tilt your head and smile a little, "Third door on your left, 'Toru." You instruct, to which blush spreads across his face as he clears his throat.

"Yeah, I knew that..." Gojo pouts a little and you can't help but find him cute while he continues his little walk, "But you didn't answer my question."

"I'm not looking at you any kinda' way, am I?" You ask with an innocent bat of your lashes.

Gojo makes it to Choso's bedroom and he's quick to walk in and kick the door almost shut behind him as he does so. You wonder why he tried to close the door for a second but you don't get much time to ponder on it as Gojo b-lines for the bed and lays you on it.

Then he's hovering over you, his eyes low on yours, and this look of pure desire washing over his face, "You're giving me that needy lil' look," He explains, "Like you want me to hurry up and fuck you."

You shrug, "Maybe I do."

"You don't wanna wait on your boyfriend?" Gojo asks. He's taunting you now. It's so very obvious with the way the corners of his lips curve into a smirk.

You swallow hard and don't answer for a moment. The two of you just gaze at one another for a long while, Gojo steadily inching down toward you and tilting his head opposite of yours.

His larger body was in between your legs so it's no surprise that you feel his cock brush against you as he gets closer. What is somewhat surprising is how wet his tip is as it brushes over your skin.

Then Gojo's lips are less than an inch away from yours, "Hm? Answer me."

You blink, "He's taking too long," You murmur in response with a slight pout. Lifting an arm and wrapping it around Gojo to pull him impossibly closer, you whisper right against his mouth, "Why wait when you could just fuck me right now? You know you want to."

Gojo's not sure he's ever had this much restraint in his life. Especially not when you sneak a hand down in between your bodies and grab a light hold of his leaky cock just to try and align him with yourself.

Your lips and his were right against each other but you two weren't kissing, simply breathing each other in, staring so longingly for one another. Hell, you might've been too into this because you genuinely forgot about Choso for a moment.

Then Gojo's pushing his hips down into you ever so slightly and his hard and flushed cock is just pushing against your cunt, begging and aching to enter you.

"You're so lucky you aren't mine," Gojo whispers, shifting to kiss only your lower lip before he repositions slightly and moves your hand away from his dick only to grab ahold of himself and tease you by dragging his tip in between your folds, "I'd lock the door and force Choso to listen to me fuck you senseless."

You grin, "What's stopping you? That's probably what he wants anyway..."

Gojo smiles, "What happened to you being nervous about cheating on him?"

"It's not cheating if he wants me to do it, right?" You hum.

A sight leaves Gojo's lips and he starts pushing only an inch of his cock inside you, feeling the way your legs move to wrap around his waist and how your pussy tries to suck him in deeper.

He's then shaking his head, "Thought' you wanted us both?"

"He can join later," You breathe out, your voice airier than before, "J-Just put it in Satoru."

Gojo draws his hips back and you let off a whine. Then he moves to tap his cock against your cunt, listening to how wet and lewd the little smack is, "Want' me that bad, huh?"

You nod, "Mhm..."

"Beg for me," Gojo utters, "If you want me to fuck you so badly and you just can't wait for your boyfriend," He's leaning into your lips again and speaks against you in such a messy way, "Beg for me."

"P-Please?" You whimper, feeling his cock nudge into you again but only an inch, "Fuck, Satoru please?"

"Please what?" He sneers and this time he's pushing another inch in, making you moan slightly.

"Just fuck me," Your words come out in a desperate little whimper and it drives the man crazy.

Gojo lifts his face up and slightly away from yours and pouts, "Just fuck me," He mocks, to which heat rushes to your face and you turn your head to the side, "So fuckin' needy," He groans as he finally starts pushing his cock inside you.

Truth be told, he couldn't wait either. Not when he had you to himself for a second, not when you were looking at him so longingly, and not when your cunt just squeezes around his shaft as he enters you.

It was like you wanted to push him away and yet suck him all the way in at the same time. You were so perfect. Gojo couldn't help but stare at the way your eyes flicker as he gets about halfway in-- you were too damn cute.

All that whining moments ago just for you to start struggling already. And to think you're supposed to be able to handle both him and Choso?

Gojo starts snickering, "Fuck, you're adorable," He says as he flashes a smile at you.

You glance out of the corner of your eye and furrow your brows as he continues pushing in-, fuck how much more does he have to go?

The man tilts his head at you and inclines down again, "Face me, sweetheart," He says, "I wanna watch the way your face twists up when I'm all the way in."

You swallow and slowly turn your head to him, your lips grazing his as you do so.

Then Gojo bites his lower lips, "Good girl," He praises, earning a whine from you. And that's all it takes for him to shallowly thrust the remaining inches of his cock into you.

Oh how he loves watching your entire facial expression change. Eyes rolling, jaw-dropping a bit, lips parted, and a sexy moan leaving your throat. Gojo pretty much forgets what the hell he's supposed to be doing at that point.

Because then he's pulling back out and thrusting deeper in, his hips crashing into yours and another moan, this time of his name, pouring out your mouth. Yeah, how did he get here again? What-, no who was he supposed to be waiting on?

Ah, he couldn't remember. Not now at least, not when your arms and legs are moving to wrap around him comfortably. And goddamn the way your pussy squelches around his dick, so loud and messy for him and he's barely even worked up a pace yet.

He'd fix that relatively quickly though, allowing you a few thrusts to get used to him before he can't take it anymore.

Gojo's eyes bore down into yours and he drinks in your face while he starts drilling himself into your tight hole. Then he's talking, "Fuuck, y'like that? Like' bein' an impatient lil' slut and gettin' dicked down without your boyfriend, huh?"

God, you hated his mouth. Or at least, you think you do. "M-Mmgh, Satoru-"

"What's he gonna think when he walks in, hm?" Gojo taunts, shifting to angle his hips differently and fuck into that one mushy spot inside you. Then he scoffs, "Actually, moan a lil' louder so he can hear ya'."

You bite your lower lip on purpose to keep your sounds in and then shake your head no.

Gojo scoffs, "No? Fuck you mean no?" He grunts, his voice getting so low as your brattiness ticks him off. Then he moves a hand to your face, grabbing a rough hold of your chin and moving his thumb to pry your lips apart, "Let your boyfriend hear how impatient you are," He huffs out.

"Fuuck-, S'toru p-please," You whimper, a slight bit of drool leaving the corner of your mouth.

He smirks, "Goddamn brat," The tip of Gojo's cock is just hitting deeper and deeper and deeper, "Tellin' me no," He huffs, "The hell has gotten into you, huh?"

You whine again, "M'sorryy... mmmh, hahh-, ahh..."

He tips his head to the opposite side, "M'sorrryyyy, she says. Please fuck me, Toru, she begged. Aaand yet here you are; fuckin' whining," Gojo mocks you as he just buries his dick as far in as he can go.

It felt like he was tearing you apart. His hips were so mean and brutal against yours, never giving you a chance to properly breathe before he's drilling into that spot that makes you see stars. You couldn't even think straight anymore unless he was talking to you and even then his words only made your situation worse.

Hell, you were cumming around his cock before you even realized it.

"Ohh, look at thaaat," Gojo huffs out, "Now she's creamin' on me-, fuuck..."

A shaky hand moves and tries to go to his mouth because fuck you just needed a second to breathe, to process what was happening, and to shut him up. But of course, Gojo just grabs your wrist and then pins it up over your head.

"Tryna shut me up?" Gojo snickers, "Why, pretty girl? Am I not makin' you feel good?" He whispers.

The heavy smack of his balls to your ass echo throughout the room, the loud and sloppy sounds of his harsh thrusts heard everywhere. In and out and in and out, Gojo wasn't slowing down for even one moment. He was damn there pussydrunk already.

By this point his mouth had a mind of its own and his hips wouldn't stop ramming into you. His soaked tip hit yet another spot that had your breath leaving your throat over and over and over again.

"F-Fuck-, oh fuck-," You gasp, eyes widening as your back arches up into him a bit, your chest flush with his as he then rolls his hips down into you to really dig into that very spot, "Oh my g-god- fuuuck, 'Toru p-please."

Gojo moves his free hand and trails down along your body until he feels the prominent outline of his cock inside you. Then he smirks just as he presses down on it, "Yeah? Feel' me right there, huh?" He whispers sensually.

His voice drove you insane and it's just perfect that he simply never stops talking.

And of course he moves over to whisper in your ear as he pounds into that spot of yours, feeling your walls clamp and clamp around his cock, "Forgot allll about your lil' boyfriend, didn't ya?" He taunts, making you let out such a whiney moan in response, "He's gonna walk in any second now 'nd catch you makin' a mess all over my cock."

You unintentionally squeeze around him and Gojo moans before his hand dips lower down and his thumb makes a messy connection with your clit, the initial contact making your entire body jolt and your legs clamp up, "F-Fuu-uck-, p-please-, please... hahhh," You're not sure what you were begging for but it's all you could say as his thumb circles your no-so-forgotten clit so tortuously slow.

Gojo kisses the crown of your ear softly and his thumb continues to draw tiny little shapes around your clit despite the rough thrusts into your pussy. Your cunt was spasming around his cock, twitching and throbbing all around him and making him groan at the way you squirm.

"C'monnn, y'know what I want," Gojo utters, his words caressing your ear so softly, "Cum f'me, sweets. Squirt on my fuckin' cock," He pleads, voice deep yet desperate with you, "Lemme prove your boyfriend wrong."

"Hahhh, S-Sa-, mmmgh-, Satoru," You whine out, voice slurred as you feel that sensation building up in your core again.

Gojo's eager for it so his pace grows a bit animalistic, sloppy even. So badly did he want to experience you squirting because of him, not your boyfriend. Choso's little comment from earlier still has Gojo upset so, he's taking it out on your poor overstimulated cunt.

All whilst he's whispering into your ear, "Fuuck, c'monn. Give it to me," He groans, "Fuckin' give it to me, sweetheart," Gojo's blurting out whatever comes to mind as all rational thoughts fade from his mind, "Y'know I'm fucking you better than he does anyway."

And with that, it happens.

Well, not you squirting again but your boyfriend walking in. Neither you nor Gojo realized until Choso huffed out a scoff, "Not like that, no you aren't." He comments in response to Gojo.

Maybe it was the shock from hearing Choso's voice, or perhaps it was the way Gojo thrust in balls deep as he too was shocked but either way, you do experience another leg-shaking orgasm.

As you do so, you're letting out a moan and you feel like you're about to pass out. You came a lot but, you didn't squirt— which ultimately leaves Gojo disappointed.

His lengthy cock is still buried into the hilt of your pussy but he stops moving at the sound of Choso’s voice. His breath is felt against your ear before Gojo grits his teeth a little— he knows he was close to getting what he wanted.

Then Gojo sighs and leans up, not daring to pull out of you yet as he sits back on his heels and pulls your hips along with him. It’s like he didn’t want to separate from you at all.

Turning his head back, he spots Choso standing at the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with his eyes low and on the lewd scene before him. The two men lock eyes before Choso shakes his head.

Gojo frowns as he finally processes what the hell he’d said to him, “What do you mean not like that, no I’m not?” Gojo huffs, “Had you not come in here, she would’ve wet me up like I wanted.”

Choso scoffs, “Yeah? Think so?” He taunts.

“I know so,” Gojo argues, eyes narrowing at the dark-haired man, “I felt it.”

“Uhuh,” Choso chastises, smirking a bit as he crosses his arms over his chest, “And what ruined that, me?”

“Yeah.” Gojo huffs.

“Aw,” Choso frowns, mocking Gojo’s expression as he pushes off the doorframe and slowly walks toward you two, “You’ mad cause you can’t make my girlfriend squirt?”

“I can,” Gojo emphasizes, “You just ruined the moment.”

“No one told you to stop,” Your boyfriend argues.

Gojo’s fingers are gently tracing indescribable shapes on your hips as your cunt keeps his cock nice and warm, “No one told you to come in here.” He fires back to your partner.

Choso raises a brow, “No one told you needy lil’ sluts to start fuckin’ without me.”

Gojo’s cock twitches inside you, “I’m not the needy one. Your girl here was the one beggin’ for my-“

“You told me to,” You mumble.

The man doesn’t even look down at you. Instead, all Gojo does is move a hand and squat his thumb over your clit again, making you jolt as you take that as his way of telling you to be quiet.

“Pretty girl couldn’t keep her hands off me, what was I supposed to do?” Gojo says as your back arches a little and your hips roll upward for more friction.

Choso couldn’t exactly see you too well yet but it was pretty obvious what Gojo was doing and he could hear the gentle whines you released. “Wait,” Choso says, “You were supposed to wait.”

A groan leaves Gojo’s lips and he rolls his eyes before turning his head away from your boyfriend and down to you, his eyes softening as soon as they land on the way you’re looking up at him. You had a hand trying to reach down and push his finger away from your clit but you were struggling— adorable, Gojo thought to himself.

“How could I possibly keep this,” His hips roll into yours and you moan, “Waiting?” Gojo questions.

“Toru,” You hum with a pout on your face.

He smiles and tilts his head at you, “Hm? That’ feel good?” He coos, his thumb shifting a little and pushing against your clit before he swats at it again. You nod in response and he continues his motions.

Choso rolls his eyes at you two. Despite the attitude he was putting on, he can’t deny how painfully hard he’s been. Even as he was cleaning the mess in the living room moments ago, he could hear you and Gojo going at it so he knew what was happening.

And when he had walked in and saw the way your cunt stretched around Gojo’s veiny cock, he couldn’t help but stare. Choso had to swallow hard at the sight because it made his dick throb wildly.

He was actually just watching for a bit before he even said something, his hand groping his erection at the sight before he couldn’t take it anymore.

All of which leads to now as he approaches the bed and you and him finally catch sight of one another.

Choso tips his head to the side as your eyes lay on his, “Look at youuu,” He murmurs, “Havin’ fun gettin’ fucked by someone else, huh?”

You frown, “N-No,” Gojo suddenly spits down on your clit and your body twitches as you talk to your boyfriend, “W-Want you too, Cho….”

He smiles, “Do you? Y’look like you’re havin’ a great time without me.”

It’s so sexy how you reach a hand out in his direction and whine for him, “P-Please, Choso?”

“You’re so cute when you beg for me, baby. How could I ever say no to ya’?” Choso comments with a smile on his face while he moves to get on the bed.

You and him forget Gojo’s there for a moment as Choso makes his way closer to you and then leans down to your face, his eyes gazing so intently into yours.

You try lifting your face to his to close the distance and kiss him but he leans up a little, “You want a kiss?” Choso teases.

You nod, “Uhuh.”

His hand carefully moves to grab a gentle and loving hold of your face, completely forgetting that he earlier said he was gonna put you in your place— Choso can’t even think of that right now when you look so fucked out and gaze up into his eyes so lovingly.

He sighs and leans down to you again, “Promise me somethin’ first.”

You bat your lashes at him and your eyes widen a little, “…Okay.”

All while Gojo’s sulking as he watches you two converse so intimately and just leave him out. As if to insert himself, despite his cock literally resting deep inside you, he spits on his thumb and rubs against your clit gently just to make your conversation a bit more difficult for you.

A breathy sound leaves your lips and Choso smirks, whispering to you so that Gojo can’t hear, “Stroke his ego a lil’ bit f’me, okay?” Choso instructs before placing a soft peck onto your lips.

You hum and then furrow your brows a bit as he pulls away.

“Make him feel good, baby” Choso hints and you think you get the idea of what he wants you to do.

Then he presses his lips into yours and carefully makes out with you. Ah Choso couldn’t help but forget why he was ever even upset with you. Why’d he call Gojo over again? What was all this for?

He was mad at you about something, right?

Oh who cares, all he wants now is to watch you lose your mind more than you already have as you get pleased by two men. And, he can’t deny he is a bit excited to taunt you with the help of Gojo— he makes things entertaining.

So he gets a little lost in kissing you, having not felt your lips on his in what felt like an eternity. Choso’s not even thinking straight as he groans against your lips and shoves his tongue into your mouth where it oh so rightfully belongs.

And he’s thriving in doing so up until you move a hand down and start reaching for him, your fingers grazing his waistline and making him moan into your mouth.

Your lips curve into a smile and you hum as he shifts so that you can reach him properly, your fingers sliding to grab ahold of his cock through his clothing and making him moan filthily against you.

His hips instantly push into your hand as your fingers cup his length. Choso pries himself off your lips for a split second, “Fuck, I missed kissin’ you s’much,” He grunts into your mouth.

You grin, “M’sorry, I m-missed you too baby,” You murmur against him.

Choso lets out the sweetest little whine as that nickname hits his ears and he had half a mind to just kick Gojo out of the situation entirely and make love to you.

Pulling away from your lips with a slight smile on his face, Choso huffs, “You have no idea what you do t’me, do you?”

You give him a cheeky little smile, “I do.”

Gojo suddenly clears his throat, “…Am I interrupting something?” He teases.

You and Choso look at him in sync and scoff at him.

You then roll your eyes, “Yes.”

“No,” Choso corrects, glancing at you once more to tell you to behave yourself through his gaze before looking to Gojo again, “You’re not.” Then Choso cocks his head to the side, “What, did you want a kiss too?”

Gojo’s got this little pout on his face after being left ignored for so long even though his cock had been sitting inside you all this time. He’d felt you clench and twitch around him numerous times ever since Choso walked in.

So, playfully, he shrugs, “Maybe.”

Choso rolls his eyes for a moment before he sits up, “Y’know, I was gonna say no buut, I have an idea.”

A very faint shade of red flushes over Gojo’s face as he blinks. Choso was considering his answer? He’s gonna kiss him? Why? What-

“If you can make my girl squirt,” Choso starts, cutting Gojo’s thoughts off, “I’ll give you a kiss…….. if that’s actually what you want, of course-“

“Okay,” Gojo breathes out and the two make eye contact.

Gojo looked all too excited and Choso couldn’t tell if it was to kiss him or make you squirt but either way— it was kinda cute.

Your boyfriend smiles briefly before looking down at you and nodding his chin toward you, “Remember what I said,” He hums.

You nod before looking at Gojo and then moving to sit up a little, holding yourself up on your elbows. Gojo meets your gaze and for a moment, he’s not even sure where to begin.

Choso chuckles at the two of you before he says your name and you look at him, “C’mere,” He directs, watching the way your eyes light up as he stands on his knees.

You’re quick to wiggle yourself away from Gojo, who lets off a whine as his cock slips out of you. The sound catches your boyfriend’s ears and he shakes his head.

“Relax,” Choso says to Gojo, “You’ll get to feel her again in a second.”

Gojo frowns and simply sits on his heels as he then watches you move to crawl over to your boyfriend, your legs wobbly and thighs wet from all activities done thus far. Then Gojo’s staring at your cunt and he starts to get the idea of what’s about to happen.

You hastily get to your boyfriend and just as he opens his mouth to say something, your hands are at his hips and your lips are making sudden contact with his lower abdomen. Choso swallows thickly as he stares down at you, moving his palm over your head of hair and smiling at you.

“Hahh,” Choso breathes out, “Eager, are we?” He taunts.

Your gaze flicks up to him for a moment as you kiss lower and your fingers slip beneath his pants. Then you’re tugging them down and moving to pull his cock out, your eyes going a bit wide as you see how painfully hard he was.

Choso’s cock was throbbing and twitching like crazy, so much so that it made your mouth water. You start to move your lips toward him but he pushes your head away a little.

Frowning, you glance up at him again and your boyfriend smiles down at you. Taking his cock into his free hand, he moves to tap his tip against your lower lip as he speaks, “Take care of our guest first, princess.” Choso hums.

You whine before angling your head back to make eye contact with a very pouty and slightly forgotten Gojo. With a sigh, you part your legs and reach a hand back to spread yourself invitingly.

Gojo bats his eyelashes at you, “Is that supposed to be an invitation, sweets?” He teases as a smile starts to spread on his face, cock dripping at the sight of you.

You nod your head, “Mhm…”

“You want me inside you again?” Gojo asks while he begins to move toward you, already knowing the answer to his question.

“Obviously,” You huff out, your gaze rushing him.

He takes his time anyway until he’s finally behind you, quickly aligning his tip with your messy folds and rubbing himself against you, “Thought I fixed that attitude of yours already?” Gojo says with a scoff.

Purposefully, you roll your eyes and start to face forward again, glancing up at Choso afterward.

“Baby,” Choso coos, his brows furrowing a bit, “Go ahead ‘nd arch your back, show him what you do f’me,” He utters softly.

You frown but do so anyway, the curve in your back making Gojo swallow hard as he takes in your form. “Damn,” He breathes, shifting a hand to palm your ass, “This is perfect.”

Choso can’t help but smile proudly because of you, “I know right? We gotta reward her for that, don’t we?”

Gojo nods his head but his eyes are stuck on how you’re trying to wiggle your hips back onto him, “Yeahhh, she’s so needy f’us too.”

Meanwhile, you’re also moving your mouth forward and pressing your lips into Choso’s aching tip— watching how his entire body tenses up and he flinches before looking down at you.

“S-So fuckin’ needy,” He unintentionally stammers. Then he moves one of his hands to your chin and opens your mouth for himself, “Nice ‘nd wide f’me, baby.” Choso instructs.

Naturally, you listen, dropping your jaw and even sticking your tongue out for your boyfriend as he carefully pushes his hips forward.

All while Gojo’s still teasing your cunt by rubbing his tip all in between your folds and even purposefully pushing his cock past your pussy wetting his shaft up with your slick.

Gojo’s hands then slide up along your body until he grabs onto your waist, still admiring that arch of yours before he finally rolls his hips forward and pushes his cock back into you. A moan leaves your throat immediately but the sound is muffled by Choso stuffing your mouth full of his cock.

Your boyfriend lets out a deep and guttural groan at both the feeling of your wet mouth around him and the way you moan against him. Then there’s Gojo who moans as he finds himself buried into the hilt of your tight cunt again.

Gojo swears you got tighter than before because he barely even realizes he has to move for a minute as he just sits there submerged in your pussy— feeling your walls clamp and clamp and clamp around him just because you’ve got two cocks inside you.

“Fuuuck,” Gojo whines a little, his head tipping back as you squeeze around him so perfectly.

While Gojo’s busy… adjusting to your pussy sucking the soul out of him, Choso’s in front of you easing his cock in and out of your mouth.

As he does so, you’re flicking your tongue against that one sensitive vein he has trailing along his shaft and the sensation makes your boyfriend moan above you. The sound stirs Gojo out of his trance and he blinks back into reality.

Glancing up, he pulls his hips back before rolling them forward so very slowly just to match the pace at which your boyfriend was going. And of course, you moan at how in sync they are, feeling Gojo’s tip kiss your cervix as Choso’s cock dips deeper into your throat.

All your moans were muffled against Choso and he groans just about every time he feels your warm mouth vibrating against him. Then there was every time he pulled himself back, your tongue would twirl around his tip so sloppily that he couldn’t even take his eyes off you.

Then suddenly Gojo’s pelvis snaps into you, the harsh thrust making you whimper while Choso’s dick slips right back into your mouth. Your boyfriend’s hand then finds its place on your head to hold you steady as he ups his own pace, biting his lower lip at how good your mouth feels.

“Shiit,” Choso whines and you feel him twitch against your tongue, “Makin’ me feel so fuckin’ good, princess.” You hum against him and he flashes a lazy smile down at you, his eyes low and breath heavy, “Enjoyin’ this, huh?”

Sloppily, you nod and then there’s a sudden jerk forward of your body as Gojo grabs onto your hips and snaps his own into you yet again. Your eyes flicker and you moan yet again.

Then Gojo lands a hand on your ass, smacking you harshly as he grows a bit rough, “Course’ she likes this shit,” He suddenly groans out, “Pussy won’t stop squeezin’ me,” He hums with a heavy pant.

Choso feels you suck on his cock a bit more eagerly and he starts thrusting in and out a bit faster as if to match how needy your mouth was moving against him, “Yeah?” He huffs out to Gojo, “Well,” Choso tilts his head and lifts his gaze to Gojo, “Looks like you’re strugglin’ over there.”

Gojo’s brows push together and he pants, “Shut up,” He grunts as he shifts to fuck into your sweet spot, feeling how heavenly your cunt throbs around him and listening to the wet squelch that emits from your hole every time he pushes in.

Your boyfriend feels you gag a little and he eases his hips back but doesn’t look down at you just yet— keeping his eyes on Gojo who’s definitely losing his mind right now.

His hair was wet with sweat, messy white locks sticking to his forehead and sweat dripping down along his body. Choso thinks he’s jealous of this guy’s physique as he stares at him, watching how aggressively he beats his hips into you— his slutty lil’ girlfriend.

Gojo’s eyes suddenly flicker and Choso’s feels you moan. The white-haired man then whines, “S-Shit, m’gonna-, fuuck… m’gonna cum-,”

Choso’s fingers suddenly curl into your hair and he grips onto you a bit tighter as he ruts his hips into you, your nose meeting his pelvis with his every thrust as he mindlessly fucks your throat.

“Yeahhh, I can tell….” Choso blurts out, his face instantly going red as Gojo locks eyes with him and raises a brow.

Gojo, never being one to back down from some harmless teasing, rolls his hips into you and huffs, “Oh can you now?” He sighs, cracking a half-smile at the man.

The red in Choso’s face deepens before he shifts his gaze down to you, “Fuck off ‘nd focus on makin’ my girlfriend squirt.”

Gojo grunts a little as you squeeze around him, “Kinda hard t’do that when you’re starin’ at me, y’know.”

“You liked it,” Choso argues back thoughtlessly.

Now it’s Gojo’s face that was brightening up, his eyes widening as he opens his mouth to argue back. Unfortunately for him, you suddenly pull your mouth off of your boyfriend and shift to lift yourself up and grab ahold of Choso’s jaw.

Your boyfriend bats his eyelashes at you as you toss one arm around him and hold his face close to yours whilst Gojo continues thrusting into you.

“S-Stop flirting with him, it’s annoying,” You huff out, your voice slurred as you moan in between your words.

Choso blinks, “I wasn’t-, wait… baby, were you gettin’ jealous?” He coos.

Gojo shifts behind you, leaning his body forward and wrapping one arm around your waist before trailing his hand down. His fingers roll over your clit and your body twitches as his lips suddenly press into the side of your neck.

You were being sandwiched by the two at this point but you weren’t complaining at all.

“Scared m’gonna steal your boyfriend from ya’?” Gojo taunts in a low whisper.

Your brows furrow and you remove your hand from Choso’s jaw, dropping it to wrap your fingers around his cock possessively, “No… he knows who he…. mmgh-, b-belongs to,” You huff out as you stare into your boyfriend’s eyes.

Choso chokes at the sound of that and to make it even worse for him, Gojo peers over your shoulder, and all three of you are all too close to one another.

His hips push into your touch and he whimpers, “Y-Yeahh, yeah I do,” Choso sighs out, nodding his head in agreement to your words.

And then your lips are on his and the two of you are a moaning mess against one another, Gojo moving to sink his teeth into your shoulder just to never once feel left out. He bites down hard enough to leave a mark and then Choso moves a hand in between you and him just to reach up and grab ahold of your neck.

Their touch was everywhere at this point, large hands all over your body that it was making you dizzy. Choso’s fingers tighten around your throat, Gojo swats at your clit again as his cock bullies your insides, and then there’s his other hand at your waist, holding onto you for dear life whilst his tongue swivels over the area he’d bit.

Your hand was busy jerking Choso off and the bedroom was filled with such sloppy and filthy sounds of sex. You and Choso were whining into each other and Gojo was grunting near your ear.

Then, similar to earlier, he’s talking into your ear, “Takin’ me so well, sweetheart,” Gojo groans, “Fuuck, m’gonna cum inside ya’ if you keep squeezin’ like that.”

Choso suddenly pulls off your lips and you whine. Then your boyfriend glances at Gojo, whose face is closer than he expected, “Y-You’re gonna do what?” Choso questions.

All three of you were more than fucked out by this point but Choso’s ears twitched at the sound of Gojo saying he was gonna release inside you.

Gojo smirks, “What? I can’t cum inside your girlfriend? C’monnnn, don’t be mean,” He teases with a little pout on his face.

Your head drops into the crook of Choso’s neck, his hand falling off you as you do so, and his face gets even closer to Gojo’s because of it— the two nearly sharing breaths by this point.

“M’not bein-,” Your hand tightens around Choso’s shaft and his eyes nearly roll back, “S-Shit-, m’not bein’ mean, y-you can’t-“

“Please?” Gojo whispers, his eyes lowering and his face shifting into something needy, “Lemme cum inside her, p-please? She feels so fuckin’ good… I gotta-, agh-, f-fill her up,” Gojo moans out.

Both men are struggling with their words due to you. Then, your hand begins to slide along Choso’s cock a bit faster than expected and you take a peek down just to realize he was cumming.

“Oh fuck-,” You whine at the sight, “Choso,” You moan.

Gojo lets out a loud groan and he starts drilling into you a bit sloppier than before, his sanity waning as his orgasm approaches, “Please,” He begs, “P-Please? Fuuck, I can beg all day, man. Please-“

And suddenly, Choso’s leaning in and grunting into his mouth, “Okay,” He hums as he suddenly acts on impulse and kisses Gojo.

Your body was being completely squished between the two and with each of Gojo’s mind-numbing thrusts, your body just presses into Choso’s. The tip of Gojo’s cock is digging and digging and digging deeper inside you, making your eyes water with how hard he was fucking you all because of Choso suddenly kissing him.

And the two had the nerve to be loud with it too, lips sliding over each other so messily as they kissed each other without second thought.

You believe you were too out of it to even process the fact that your boyfriend was making out with Gojo because then you’re experiencing that mind-boggling sensation again, gummy walls suffocating Gojo’s cock as your body jerks and twitches in between the two.

Then, all at once, you’re seeing blissful sparks of white in your vision, making a filthy mess in between the two as Gojo’s cock slips out of you and you squirt yet again. Choso’s hands move to hold your body tenderly as you start to fall over a bit and then his mouth pops off of Gojo’s.

“Fuck,” The two breathe out in unison.

Gojo’s eyes are down on the lewd mess you just made and he notices his cum leaking out your cunt— wondering to himself when it even happened? One minute he was begging Choso to cum inside you and the next…

The next he was kissing him…

Meanwhile Choso’s dazed as he shifts to get a good look at your face.

You think you were a bit lightheaded, lashes fluttering so softly as you pant heavily trying to catch your breath. Your eyes just barely meet Choso’s and he smiles at you.

“You okay?” Choso murmurs. You frown and shake your head. “Tired already?” Your boyfriend continues, then you nod and he moves to kiss your forehead, “S’okay, baby. You did s’good for us.”

Gojo’s behind you moving to wipe the sweat off his forehead, “Too damn good…” He comments.

Your eyes narrow at your boyfriend and your voice is hoarse again, “…You kissed… him.”

Choso’s face flushes and he swallows, “I was in the heat of the moment, I’m s-“

“And it w-was so fucking…” Your body leans into him a bit more as you shut your eyes, “…Hot.”

Both Gojo and Choso are at a loss for words and neither of them really wants to discuss what they just did, both telling themselves that they weren’t thinking straight (literally) despite both of them having thoughts of doing so a few times throughout the night.

Choso starts shifting to wrap his arms around you and move you away from the… filth below, just to lay you down as you start yawning.

Then, he hovers over your face and watches how you sleepily blink at him, “No more sex-ban, right?” Choso whispers.

You pout but close your eyes, “…Mhm.”

He leans down and kisses you, “Promise?”

“S’long as you invite Satoru over again, yeah,” You hum.

Choso freezes and glances back to Gojo for only a second, before smirking and looking back down at you, “Yeah sure, whatever you want princess.”

he’s definitely inviting Gojo over for himself, not you.

tags;

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