#I JUST FUCKING REALIZED I FORGOT TO DRAW A WHOLE OTHER ARM

[animeshades1]

it's my boy Lee

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐈𝐅 𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄 ? ❞

❝ ALL THESE PEOPLE THINK LOVE'S FOR SHOW, BUT I WOULD DIE FOR YOU IN SECRET ! ❞

✧ pairing: suguru geto x sorcerer! reader

✧ summary: suguru's birthday spent with you is like a dream -- the perfect day spent in bliss, but what happens when the dream has to come to an end?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, jjk compliant au (reader is a sorcerer), domesticity, cuddling, oral (m +f), handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), improper massage technique, some angst (discussion of star vessel / premature death arc / geto's defection),

✧ wc: 3,015

The first thing Suguru felt were fingertips brushing against his cheek.

“Morning, birthday boy,” you murmured, and his almost violet eyes fluttered still half within the grasp of the sandman, and it didn’t help you looked as if you were the thing of dreams — your body clad only in his white button down, hair askew from your late night with him, and eyes filled with utter love and devotion, “finally waking up? Because I have a whole day planned for you,” 

His lips curl despite the sleep that weighed on his eyelids, a hum leaving his lips, as his fingers find you, even with his eyes closed — just as he always could, his fingers curling around your wrist, as he expertly tugged you and wrapped his arms around you. You were caged in around his limbs, pressed to his chest with barely any space to move, you’d be scared, if wasn’t exactly where you wanted to be. 

You sigh, burying your face in his chest, lips brushing the skin of his bare chest, “Sugu, come on, we can’t laze all day, I have a nice breakfast planned, and we’re having lunch with Satoru, Shoko, and Nanami later, and I have a million other nice things planned — none of which we can do if you don’t get out of bed,” 

“But you forgot something,” it’s his turn to sigh, as he shifts his face to rest against your neck, nose nearly tickling the skin there, as his lips press butterfly kisses, dotted like constellations along your neck and collarbone — as if he find the all the universe had to offer between the space of your neck and shoulder, “my favorite thing to do is right here,” 

You roll your eyes at the innuendo, a knowing smirk on his lips, one you didn’t need to see to know it was there — it was done against your neck after all, “If I recall, we did plenty of your favorite thing last night, and it’s the reason you’re probably so tired right now,” 

His fingers begin to toy with the buttons of his shirt that you’d stolen, “Well, they say you can never have too much of a good thing, after all,” 

“Oh, is that so?” and his lips find yours again to swallow your next retort, his lips gliding against yours and he can taste the coffee you had just had, the bitter taste mixed with your sweet tongue, that flicked not so sweetly against the seam of his lips. 

“You said I could have anything I want today,” he murmurs, beginning to undo the buttons one by one, as he revealed your body to his eyes — a twitch in his boxers as he realized you wore not a single thing underneath, “well right, all I want is you, for breakfast,” 

Your cheeks burn, thighs pressed together, his words sending a rush of heat down to your still aching cunt, “Sugu—” but his lips find yours again, his fingers busy with teasing your nipples — rolling both between his pointer finger and thumb, “fuck, baby—” 

“Gotta enjoy my meal baby,” his lips burn a trail of kisses down your body, his lips curling around your tit, his teeth grazing and teasing one and then the other, drawing a whimper from your lips, as he pulls his mouth away with a pop, “it’s the most important meal, and I have to start my birthday right, don’t I?” 

And his hands drag down your sides, large calloused fingers squeezing your hips, as he lifts your legs to hook around his shoulders, his dark gaze devouring the sight of your pretty cunt glistening with your slick, before his mouth and tongue would. 

His lips warm your outer lips, as his fingers tease your puffy little clit, pinching it, “Still swollen from last night,” his lips curl as you yelp in surprise, with a glare shot his way, that rolls into the back of your head as he buries his face in your sweet pussy. His nose grinds against your clit deliciously, as his tongue collects the pre already drenching you, humming at the taste — how was it that you were truly his favorite thing he tasted? You weren’t exactly sweet down there, but you were the only dessert he wanted (he’d leave the actual sugar to Satoru), “seems like you wanted this too by the way you’re leaking down here, my shirt and sheet is even wet,” he teases, making you cover your face in embarrassment, “don’t worry, sweetheart,” he smiles up at you with his slick covered lips and dripping chin, “I’ll clean you up.” 

“You don’t have to do this for me,” Suguru says, but you only shake your head, meeting his gaze in the mirror, with a roll of your eyes. 

“I want to do this for you,” as your fingers continue to comb his dark locks, finger twirling one strand between his fingers, “plus this is more for me than you, you never let me play with your hair at Jujutsu Tech,” you pouted, and he snorts. 

“First, you said ‘play,’ not do, and second, do you forget the first and only time I let you, Shoko, and Satoru do my hair?” and you stifle a laugh, badly disguised as a cough, as you lips part to answer, “don’t lie, I know you guys use it as your group chat photo,” 

“I only wanted to put clips and a scrunchie in your hair — dying your hair was all Satoru—” and his sharp look cuts you off, as you relent, before running your fingers through his hair, and easing another knot from his locks, “well isn’t this nice though?” and he nods, after your lips graze the edge of his hairline, “we’re almost done and you can tie your hair up after,” you hum. 

“Do you like my long hair?” and he meets your curious gaze in your reflection, “I mean, i decided to grow it out after we graduated, but I was wondering if you ever thought I should cut it,” 

You purse your lips, scrutinizing him in contemplation, “I love your hair either way, but you were always so meticulous about cutting it the same length, so why did you decide to grow it out?” His eyes fall to his lap, and he swallows, “you don’t have to—” you say softly, and his fingers find yours, squeezing. 

“I want to,” he echoes, as he bites his lip, “I heard when I was a kid that hair holds memories, and ever since Amanai and Haibara…I don’t want to ever forget them,” and he toys with a strand between his fingers, “And by keeping my hair longer, it feels like I can hold onto that, onto them,” he says softly, and you nod, “I know it’s not logical—”

“Not everything has to be logical, not everything has to have a reason,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his cheek, wrapping your arms around his neck, “sometimes things can just be a thing you do — but either way, if you cut your hair or keep it long, I don’t think you’ll ever forget those two, and neither would they — ever,” and he turns to meet your lips in a slow kiss, your fingers ghosting his cheek, before you finally part, “come on, get dressed, we’re going to be late.” 

~~~~

“You told me he liked strawberry sponge and cream cake,” you punched Satoru in the shoulder, who takes it if only to appease you, with a pout, “you said that’s what he wanted this year, you blue eyed freak,” 

“It is! How was I supposed to know he’d lie to me?” 

“You know him for how many years and you can’t tell it was a lie?” 

“You’re his partner, you don’t know what cake he likes—” 

Suguru rubs his forehead, as you and Satoru continue to bicker, as he pulls a lighter out, and offers to light Shoko’s cigarette, as she leans on the windowsill of one of the open windows, “Those two never grow up do they?” and Suguru snorted, leaning against the wall next to her, facing the spectacle you and Satoru were making,  “why did you say strawberry cake?” 

“Because it’s both of their favorites,” his eyes slide to those two as Satoru used his infinity only to infuriate you, “I always had thought those two would have made a better match,” 

He feels Shoko’s eyes slide to him, “She loves you, not Satoru,” and his eyes find yours, just as they always did, and you smile the one smile he always hoped would be reserved for only him. 

“I know.” 

“Did we have to stay that long?” Suguru sighs, pulling off his jacket, “who slipped alcohol into Satoru’s plastic cup anyway?” and your pause gives it away, as he glances at you, pulling off your shoes, “sweetheart, you know he can’t handle his alcohol,” 

“Well someone should’ve handled their job right then,” and he laughs, as he walks over to wrap his arms around you, as you grumble, “you ask Mr. Six Eyes to do something — and he can’t even see through a lie, so are we really buying that he actually has them—” 

And his lips find yours again, his hands sliding down to your hips to pull you closer, “I believe you owe me a present still,” he kisses down your neck, and he feels you melt into his touch, your fingers splaying on his shoulders, “and I know exactly what I want,” 

“Well, I may have gotten you something a little different,” your lips curl. 

“A massage?” he raises an eyebrow, as you strip him down to his boxers on the bed, a few towels underneath him as you warmed the massage oil with your hands. He heard the squish and squelch of your fingers, and he felt his dick twitch, the noise sounding like something else. 

“You don’t relax enough, this way, I can help you relax a little,” you hum, as you stand beside him, “can I start?” and he bites his lip, but nods. 

“Go ahead, princess,” and you do — Suguru didn’t realize how many knots he had in his back, the muscles stiff and immovable at first, until you begin to work away at the bundles of stress he had accumulated. A moan slips from his lips as he feels the stress ebb away, a blush burning up his cheeks, “Sorry,” 

“No complaints here, baby,” you giggle. God, he was so fucking hot like this. His muscles were glistening with the oil, each muscle becoming more relaxed under your touch, the little grunts and groans that left his lips left another knot, but this one was in your cunt.

Suguru couldn’t help let these moans escape his lips, you were making him feel so good, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to move after this, his body far too limp. Or so he thought. Your hands were traveling lower and lower, until they brushed against the waistband of his boxers, and he shivers, “Sweetheart,” 

“What? You carry stress here too, and as your masseuse, I have to do a good job right?” you hum, “as long as my client permits me,” 

And he bites his lip, “I’ll permit anything from you, baby,” 

You don’t need any more words, as your fingers pull at the boxers, tugging the fabric down to reveal his ass, your fingers first ghosting over the flesh teasingly, before beginning to massage it. 

Fuck, now he was fully hard, his dick rubbing against the mattress — thank god you put down towels — as you worked out the knots in his gluteus muscle, but he didn’t know if you were helping him relax or not, because he never had felt more stiff. And it doesn’t escape your notice. 

You hum, “Maybe we need a different method,” your finger traces up and down your spine, “would my client mind turning over for me?” 

“Princess—” 

“Just one more thing to help you relax,” and he relents, turning over, to reveal the tent in his boxers, still drawn over his front, and your eyes fall to his cock, “and I see where all the stress has gone,” you tsk, as you climb onto the bed, straddling his waist, drawing a gasp from his lips, “poor baby,  all worked up still?” Your fingers traces his clothed head, a large wet patch that assuredly wasn’t massage oil, “I think I can relax you.” 

He’s biting his lip as he watches you tug down his boxers, fabric dragging against his erection as you do, slapping against his stomach, “Sweetheart—“ 

“Just let me do this for you, baby,” you murmur as you clean your hands with a rag and instead smear the beads of precum along his length, drawing a groan from his lips, “so sensitive for me, Sugu, been wanting me since morning haven’t you?” You hum, as you begin to work his cock with your hand, lips leaning down to press a kiss to his weeping tip, “it’s only fair if I get to taste you too — after all, I may have been your breakfast, but you’re my dessert,” 

And your lips wrap around his length, tracing his slit with the tip of your tongue, and tasting his salty precum. He groans, the noise burning a trail to your cunt, “s’good for me,” you murmured against him, as you took as much of him as you could, taking the rest in your hands.

His fingers weave into your hair, hips lightly bucking into your mouth, the tip of his cock brushing against your throat, and you manage to suppress your gag reflex, “shit, sorry—“ but you cut off his apology by licking a thick stripe up one of his veins, before hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, “fuck, Princess, I’m close—I—“ and your fingers toy with his balls and your mouth redoubles his efforts, until he’s cumming down your throat with your name on his lips, his thick load painting your mouth and throat, as you swallow it eagerly. 

He flutter open, only to watch you pull your swollen lips from his length, strings of spit and cum still connecting you to his cock, before you wipe it away, “don’t worry baby,” you lean down to lick the beads of cum dripping from his tip, his hips jerking, “I’ll clean you up,” 

And after you get him all cleaned up, the two of you are in bed again, tucked up next to each other — Suguru was completely boneless, as you climb into bed beside him, “you okay baby?” 

He nods, smile on his lips, “More than okay after that,” he murmurs, lips finding yours, and then he pulls away with a pause, “but I didn’t get you off, baby,” and his forehead furrows as you chuckle. 

“Worry about that tomorrow, baby. I think you need some sleep now,” you crawl into his arms, your head pressed against his chest, you were so warm pressed against him, “got all I need right here,” you murmur, before you ask, “did you have a good birthday?” 

“I always do,” his fingers graze your cheek, as his eyes flutter shut, “always when I’m with you, Princess,” 

The first thing he feels, again, are soft fingers against his cheek, his eyes heavy with sleep, flutter open, as his brain catches with his body. 

“Master Geto? Master Geto?” His eyes finally flutter open to find Nanako and Mimiko at his bedside. 

He rubs at his eyes, as he stares at a ceiling for a moment, as he lets the haunting feel of your body slip from him — for a moment, he had let himself believe it was real — that you were with him, that he was still with you — all of you. 

“Happy Birthday, Master Geto,” they both intone together, and his gaze slides back to find the girls’ holding a birthday cake box. He blinks a moment, before he realizes. 

“Thank you both,” he sigh, sitting up, and even though he knows, he asks the question anyway, “it was left at the doorstep of the compound?” 

“Yes, the same one, the one that’s always left for you,” Mimiko answers as Nanako hands him the box, and he slips off the twine and opens the box to reveal a strawberry and cream sponge cake, “I didn’t know Master Geto even liked strawberry cake,” 

And he chuckles, as he stares at the cske, the residuals unbidden and clear as day who had left it — who had always left it, “I don’t but it was the favorite of two people very important to me before — you know I don’t care for sweets,” 

“I thought you didn’t care for sweets made by monkeys,” Nanako said, typing on her phone, before she snaps a picture or two of the cake, “why is this an exception?” 

“Because one of those special people baked it, and she’s a sorcerer,” and you always had — every year without fail. He didn’t even know how you had found him — he didn’t tend to stay in one place for too long, but you always did. 

As he lifts the cske out and hands it to the girls, “go slice it up and have a piece,” he smiles, “I’ll take care of the box,” and they nod, as Mimiko takes the cake while Nanako walks out staring at her phone still. 

It wasn’t the cake that he found special, but the card that was hidden at the bottom. It was nothing special — always a random card picked out with a birthday message printed on the outside — but no, what was special was the note you wrote. 

My favorite treat for my favorite birthday boy — I hope you have a good birthday — with your name signed below. 

His fingers twirled a strand of his hair, still far too long, as he traced your name with his finger. He hadn’t had a really good birthday — not without you. 

But, he opened the drawer of his bedside table, placing the card inside with the others, at least he could dream of one. 

✧ a/n: i've been hopping between my sukuna fic and prof geto 3, but i was bouncing back and forth between whether i wanted to write this or not, but i just had to for suguru - man has claimed a sweet spot. thank you to the anon who's idea i put on a spin on and @biancaness, who provided the massage idea :). this is also for @gaylatteart because their birthday is tomorrow, the day after suguru's. thank you bb for being so wonderful and congrats on doing the thing - i'm super proud of you!!

✧ taglist: @foxygemin1, @honeyangelsblog, @biancaness, @rwtard, @strangehuman101, @serendididy, @i-love-the8, @ririthedevil, @linastired, @bsaeshell, @jaceum, @going-to-californiaxx, @dontshuugo, @diogodxlot, @coffeebun17, @slikdolliy, @spider-fan72, @sophistication-as, @get0sfav, @klynne, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @heijihattorisgf, @teatreeoilll, @el172736738, @nem0philistx, @strawmariee, @mysuperrainbow

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Kim saw the moment Chay realized something about him was different. Seconds after digging his hand into Kim’s boxers, and he froze up like a deer in the headlights, greeted by well-groomed hair and distinct wetness. 

“... P’Kim?” 

Kim realized, about five minutes too late, that he probably should have warned Chay first. Given him some indication that he wasn’t exactly what he presented to the rest of the world. In all the ways that mattered, sure; Kim walked the walk and talked the talk, and while there were thousands of people every day calling him pretty, none of them would think to call him anything other than a man. But that didn’t change the fact that Chay’s fingers were cupping the soft curve of his mound, and not the hard dick he’d been expecting.

“Problem?” Kim asked. He kept his voice neutral even as he felt his face flush, his body braced for rejection, and didn’t allow himself to break Chay’s wide-eyed stare. 

Rather than jerk his hand back and call an end to this whole thing, like Kim expected, Chay quickly shook his head and crowded even further into Kim’s space. Close enough for Kim to feel Chay’s warm breath on his face. 

“No!  No, I just—I’ve been thinking about this for so long, I was researching,” the way Chay looked away from him, somewhere over his shoulder, with an awkward little giggle, told Kim that his research was probably porn, “and I don’t… know what to do? With this?”

Kim would really like to be having this conversation without a hand in his underwear. But Chay was on top of him, between his legs, pinning him to the couch with his hand and weight. Kim couldn’t get away if he wanted to, not without hurting them both. Except then Chay’s fingertips started to wander, calloused from his guitar practice, grazing against him. A light little scrape that had him clenching around nothing. 

“It’s okay, though, it’s good!” Chay quickly reassured. “Really good. Everything about you is so good, P’Kim.” 

Kim… didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know what to do with the warmth filling him, that had nothing to do with his arousal, pooling in his chest and curling up around his heart, soft and satisfied. It felt like a lifetime ago that Chay stumbled his way through a confession that he liked all sides of Kim; somehow, Kim didn’t expect him to like this one, too. Didn’t expect to be met with such open fondness and eager desire. He hadn’t let himself think about it at all. It felt like too much to hope for, until they were making out on the couch and Kim was consumed with so much want that he forgot to be afraid. 

“The thing is, though… I definitely don’t know what to do. Tell me?” Chay asked. He was sweet, all big brown eyes and unsure little smile, like he didn’t have his hand halfway down Kim’s pants. 

Kim let the tension bleed out of him. He hitched a leg up around Chay’s waist and wrapped his arms over his shoulders, drawing him into a filthy kiss. Not much of a direction, but enough of an answer to make the other boy shudder. Chay dipped his hand lower, until his fingertips passed Kim’s clit and brushed the gathering wetness between his thighs. 

“Oh, P’Kim,” he whispered. “Can I—”

“Yes.” Kim canted his hips up, letting his head fall back onto the cushions when Chay lightly, so lightly brushed a thumb against his clit. It was a heady, torturous feeling, teasing him. He pushed on Chay’s hand, guided him lower. “C’mon,” he urged. Chay bit his lip as he slid one finger into him. 

It wasn’t too much. But it was strange, the sensation of something inside of him. Kim rarely fingered himself; he preferred to abuse his clit for the fast orgasms. The only sex toy he owned was a vibrator, and he never let anyone fuck him. But now—he wanted Chay inside of him. He felt his cunt throb with it, and he knew Chay felt it, too, with the way he gasped and pushed in just a little deeper. 

“Wow, you’re—you’re really wet, P’Kim.” Chay watched him, wiggling his finger a little bit to feel Kim’s slick walls, but not otherwise moving. He was so shy, kind of just… sitting there, knuckle-deep in Kim’s cunt. “Tell me what to do?” he asked again, already starting to withdraw, then push back in again. 

“Fingering me isn’t any different than yourself,” Kim said, grinning at the scandalized sound Chay made, like Kim had no right to go around assuming something like that. He didn’t deny it, though. He didn’t ask for any more clarification, either, and Kim knew he was right.

[motleyfam]

hey! so its 4am and ive just finished my, um... fifth(?) reread of world's saddest breakfast club and like! aaahhhh!!!

do u got abything to tell us abt this story? like sbt the writing proccess or things u thought that did not make it in or hc or anything really. i dont have a question exactly, just wanted to hear you talk about it. im a bit. well. obssesed.

Oooh cool question! I definitely do!

World's Saddest Breakfast Club: Fun Facts

The opening line is a result of me angsting to @batmoniker about how I couldn't figure out how to start my fic, and her jokingly being like "I got you, bro. Ready? 'It was a dark and stormy night'" and then me just being stubborn and committing to the bit.

The story started with a vague idea of "everyone in the kitchen at 3am for different reasons and Jason channeling his inner short order cook." All I knew going in was the order I wanted people to appear, what was wrong with them (sick, hurt, insomnia, etc) and what food Jason would be making for them. Everything else I made up as I went.

If I could go back and change one thing about this fic, I'd reduce how long Jason was kidnapped to like, 6-8 days, max. 16 days seemed funny when I wrote it, but in hindsight, I feel like he'd be a little more fucked up in the story if he were really escaping from that many days of captivity lmao

I headcanon Dick as the kind of person who straight-up forgets to eat when he's preoccupied, and Jason as the kind of person who cannot FATHOM this concept. Jason absolutely will miss a meal if the situation calls for it, don't get me wrong, but he's aware the entire time he's doing it and it makes him super antsy. (This once turned into A Thing™ when Jason was like, 13 years old and staying with Dick for the weekend for some brotherly bonding and Dick forgot about lunch and by 5pm, Jason maybe sorta kinda had a minor panic attack about it. Dick was a lot more mindful of that moving forward)

Bruce's favorite food being lobster thermidor is a reference to the Lego Batman movie

I wrote this whole fic with Julia Child's recipe pulled up in one tab and my google doc in the other

At some point I realized that since I started with fresh lobsters, I was going to have to write Jason killing them, and it derailed me so hard that the fic nearly became about meatloaf instead. (Never mind the fact that Jason canonically kills human beings — that's totally fine. I just draw the line at him killing lobsters 😰)

(in the end I just kinda glossed over it and made sure they were already cooked before Damian appeared so I wouldn't have to address it 😬)

Dick's reoccurring shoulder injury is a reference to the DCAU where I swear that man has dislocated his shoulder/injured his arm at least 4x

The line about Tim being allergic/throwing up when he eats eggs was inspired by a line in chap 11 of @goldkirk's fic Hymn, which I've reread about 37x

Jason is correct— grits are fucking delicious and definitely not baby food.

My favorite line is "Okay there’s self-sacrificial bullshit, and then there’s whatever the fresh hell that is."

The idea for Cass being a big meat-eater comes from a comic panel where Steph offers her a plate of rice and beans and Cass says she needs meat and starts mischievously eying Steph's hamster. Can't find the panel to save my life, but I promise it's out there.

EDIT: finally found it!

Steph's nickname of "Zombie Boy" for Jason is borrowed from @audreycritter's Cor Et Cerebrum series (which is a fucking masterpiece, btw)

This fic was gonna be called "Creatures of the Night" until batmoniker said Steph's line made for a better title

Several people have asked me whether Jason was really cooking Bruce's lobster to spite him, or if he was actually intending to make it for him all along. The answer is... both? Like Jason's kind of an unreliable narrator in that he's trying to convince himself that he's just doing what he's doing to be a little shithead when deep down it's all stemming from his need to take care of his family, you know? Like he'll never admit it, but that's where his heart is at.

To everyone who's asked for a part 2 where the family finds out Jason was kidnapped, I'm gonna be honest: the main reason I don't think I'm ever going to write that scene is because I can't come up with a good enough joke for him to make to accidentally out himself 💀

[myveryownfanfiction]

Chapter 2

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @cryptic-michael, @cassieuncaged, @onedirectionlovers2014, @itzjustalexxx

warnings: swearing, drinking, era accurate sexism and misogyny, mention of smut

AN: finally getting back to this. But anyway. Happy birthday kiefer!

I brought the bottles over to the table where ace was standing with a pool stick. He held one out to me and I traded him. Taking a drink, I put the bottle down and stared at it for a second.

“Everything alright?” Ace asked. I snapped out of my thoughts and nodded.

“yeah. All good.” I confirmed before breaking. I kept glancing back to the bottle and realized that for once, I could relax. No one was going to try to spike my drink. The only threat in the bar was either ace stealing it for his own or irby kicking us out. If ace noticed my slight paranoia, he didn’t comment on it.

“Damn.” Ace groaned. “You’re pretty good at this.” Ace hit my hip with his own to push me out of the way. “But I’m better.” He cleared the table easily and leaned on his stick to smirk at me. “I won.” He teased. I nodded at him with a smile.

“alright. That round. Loser buys the next round.” I said, tilting my bottle back and draining it. Ace smirked at me and watched me rack them back up. I nodded at him to break and I watched as ace arched over the table. I couldn’t help I but admire the way he looked, slim and sturdy. He easily moved around the table, pocketing the balls as he went. We both watched as one hit the edge of the pocket and rolled away. I raised an eyebrow at him and ace shrugged.

“bad shot.” He said nonchalantly. I nodded and set up my shot. “Careful.” Ace muttered as he watched me draw the stick back.

“really ace?” I laughed. He shrugged again and continued to smirk. “Shut the fuck up.” He chuckled and shook his head.

“I’m just saying it’s a shit shot.” Ace spoke up again. I straightened up and gave him a dirty look.

“Again. I say, shut the fuck up.” I laughed and bent back over the table to take the shot. I could feel aces eyes on me the whole time. The cue ball fell into the pocket as the ball id hit rolled away. “Fuck.” I groaned. Ace smiled at me and opened his mouth. “Say what you were going to and I’ll shove this stick up your ass.” Ace closed his mouth but continued to smile at me. “Asshole.”

“can’t say I didn’t warn you.” Ace said under his breath. I rolled my eyes and hit his butt with the end of my stick. “Hey.” I smirked at him before winking.

“can’t say I didn’t warn you.” I shot back. Ace rolled his eyes at me and I had to resist the urge to stick my tongue out at him. Ace and I finished the game in a short amount of time. I did stick my tongue out at him as I had to take the walk to the bar to grab the next round. Ace continued to smile at me while leaning against his pool stick. Irby handed over the beers and I made my way back. We continued on until we were both drunk enough we couldn’t play anymore. Ace chuckled as I sat next to him on the couch, head dangerously close to falling on his shoulder.

“We’re going to have to walk back.” Ace said, letting his head fall back. My head finally fell onto his shoulder. “I don’t think either one of us is in any position to actually drive back.”

“big bad ace doesn’t drink and drive. That’s interesting.” I mused, shifting so I was pressed against him slightly. Ace wrapped his arm around my shoulders and gently helped me sit back up. His hand brushed my back and he frowned slightly.

“how do you wear that thing all day?” He mumbled. “Just seems like it would be painful. Or annoying.” I stared at him confused for a second before moving my hand to brush the same spot he did.

“oh. That.” I shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to it.” Ace smiled lopsidedly at me.

“you forgot you were wearing it.” I nodded before going to stand up. The room spun when I did and ace tried to bolt up to catch me only to end up leaning against me, propping each other up in the process. “Let’s go back to yours.” Ace slurred as we wrapped an arm around each other and stumbled out of the bar. The walk back was full of giggles and slurred words. When we reached the garage, ace went into the office to grab a six pack before following me up the stairs to my apartment. “Cheers.” I laughed as ace and I cracked open a can.

“this is the most fun I’ve had in a while.” Ace slurred as he let me lean against him. He had talked me into pulling off the wrap and I had slumped against him in relief when I did. “Lately it feels like it’s all work work work. It’s nice to just relax with a friend for a while.”

“I’m your friend?” I asked, eyes going wide as I tried to process what ace had just said. His eyes darted over my face before settling on my lips.

“that so wrong?” He asked. “Guys and girls can’t be friends where you’re from?” I shrugged as we started to lean into each other. The last thing I remembered was thinking how soft aces lips felt against mine.

the next morning, I woke up with a pounding headache and the warm weight of an arm around my waist. I could feel someone pressed up against my back, head tucked into the back of my neck. I went to try to push the arm off me to discover that my fingers were intertwined with the person behind me. Carefully turned around, I covered my mouth to stop the gasp from leaving my lips. Ace Merrill was slowly waking up in my bed. With me. Naked.

[yonpote]

Dan and Phil Appreciation Week Part 2: Electric Boogaloo

aka i forgot to participate in DNPAW again but also now my arm is fucked up so im just gonna type my responses instead of drawing them YAYYY shout out as always to @dpgdaily for creating this lil week event :3

Day 1: Favourite baking video

honestly probably slime and sadness cinnamon rolls, but monster pops has such a special place in my heart for being the sorta the tipping point of dnp's descent into truly unfiltered horniness, conjoined baking and pumpkin carving if that counts are also great (i just like halloween lmao)

Day 2: Favourite DanAndPhilCRAFTS video

EASILY slime. like cmon it blew every other dapc out of the water, while at the same time fully connecting them all so it's like you HAVE to watch them all together to grasp at the final picture presented. god im obsessed with it come join the crafts theory server

Day 3: Favourite What Dan and Phil Text Each Other

wdapteo 2 forever, but 4 is super super close. yon? pote. sent at 4:32 am! WHAT IS WRONG WITH US??

Day 4: Favourite Day in the Life

oof probably ditl manchester... the vibes are so so special... australia is really good too very comfy!!! (im actually a tiny bit of a ditl hater lmao mainly just the parts that are strong on the weeb / weird about asian stuff energy but like the vibes are still nice fhdhdh)

Day 5: favourite Phil is not on fire

pinof 9!!!! its special to me as the first one i watched while being like. In The Phandom, at least somewhat. and also it being dnp's fav really made me realize why i liked it so much like i KNEW it wasnt just cuz it was my first as a Full On Phannie, it had an energy to it that was so authentically chaotic and fun and just goofing off with each other and giggling like moreso than the previous like 5 pinofs, it had pinof 1 energy but with 8 more years worth of love in it

Day 6: Favourite Dan vs Phil

prob the first golf with friends LOL i love the shitty grass turf hats, i love the stupid golf bants and the creepy golf ball print they used for the board, dan's curls were in peak form, phil's bluey green shirt made his eyes even bluer, phil squishy dan's face >w<~~~~~

Day 7: Your overall favourite Dan and Phil Series

HMMMM. undertale is my go-to when im particularly sad, the sims s1 is always good to put on in the background, but i think dapwepinof... the pinof reaction mini-series they did in gamingmas is prob my top fav right now. it's everything i love, it's nostalgic, it has some behind the scenes reveals, openly gay dan and phil reacting to closet dan and phil being extremely gay, and REFLECTION!!!! and like, the fact that in the silliest lil annual video series in the world there ended up being a lot of thought and care put into it in wanting to keep it as a sacred tradition for ten whole years, it went from whimsical by nature to whimsical with Purpose and finally whimsical with Love and that means so much to me, as a proponent of queer joy above all else.

[haemosexuality]

I can see you going through and liking all my fern posts afsduihfhdsiufhsi thank you I'm glad you like her ^_^

shes great!!!! and im always in awe of ppl that can create characters like that, with a whole life and that feel like real ppl

like i said i donttttt rlly do that but since u asked heres my tav!! who is literally just me but if i looked way cooler and cared way less about other ppl. her morals are contradicting and all over the place

most of what ive made up about her are about her appearance (and also written right there on the paper)

shes a drow, grew up in the underdark until she was in her mid teens when she ran away. her parents were lolth sworn but shes not, tho shes not seldarine either she just doesnt care about all that that much. but she kind of misses how pretty (and less sunny) the underdark was, and while she doesnt particularly approve of lolth sworn culture shes still incredibly defensive of it when surface races start talking shit

like me she cant see shit without her glasses, and those were broken during a fight. she didnt have to suffer for long bc volos Magical Glass Eye can see perfectly, but she always has her left eye squinting or closed. and she has cat pupils because i think cat pupils are cool

as drow do she has naturally white hair but she dyes the longer part of her mullet thingy all sorts of different colors

has a bunch of scars, most notably the ones from astarion biting her all the time. she was supposed to have tattoos on her neck and arms too but i just realized i forgot to draw them 😞 F

i gave her levels in fighter but thats mostly just for gameplay, shes rogue through and through. she just happens to be a rogue whos particularly good at fighting. currently using the Shortsword of First Blood and the Sword of Lifestealing, as well as a really cool cloak and that sick drow hood (not pictured here)

hopelessly in love with karlach, fully in denial that karlach is going to die. astarion is her bestie and they gossip and are horrible together. when karlach asked her on a date she immediately ran to him like YOURE NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS- PLEASE CAN YOU HELP ME WHAT DO I WEAR

shes wearing this ⬇️ but she wraps bandages tight around her chest because can you fucking imagine running around and fighting like that with big boobs??? hell. ow. ouch.

[eric-the-bmo]

Blood and Silicon ep19.5: Road Trip

[Summary: This road trip is off to a horrible start. There's also small lore crumbs.] @kentuckycaverats @sanguineasylum @zwoelffarben

In the car, it's a bit tense. Percy is drawing and using a locket photo for reference; when asked, he said the subject was a good friend of his. Leo's still a bit pissed over earlier, so he's trying not to make it obvious he's curious about Percy's drawing.

Blake pushes Percy on the pack comment he had made earlier, and they go back and forth on the subject, dancing around actually saying what Blake is accusing him of. Leo is confused, like he's missing something, until finally Percy admits he is/was a member of the Sabbat. Blake is Not Happy about having a cultist in his jeep, and Percy isn't happy that Blake views the Sabbat as a monolith of wild killers.

Leo tries his best to silently follow along/ take notes as Blake and Percy begin to argue about the Sabbat and sectarian politics, dropping bits of sect lore and Percy backstory along the way; it turns out Percival is trying to find his former coterie. As they do this, Blake (who's implied he's encountered some Sabbat loyalists at some point) mentions the viniculum while making a jab at Percy- Leo stops like he's realized something, but the other two don't notice bc they're busy arguing. Blake also tells Percy to stop using Heightened Senses all the time at some point, and the whole thing is Very Tense. Neither of them really "win" this argument, so to speak.

The coterie eventually gets to a rest stop. Blake exits to go to the store section, and Percy stays in the car to read a detective novel he brought along. Leo gets out for a moment, and yells into his hands out of frustration before going "God, we're so fucked." He follows Blake into the store where the Gangrel is buying a few things to keep up the appearance of us still being human. They have a small chat. Leo is gifted some cheap sunglasses.

Blake and Leo go outside so the Malk can feed [and ends up drinking from a woman who was on some sort of drug cocktail??? He's fine, the effects passed super quick, but he maybe took too much from her :-( ], and Leo heads back to the car. Here, he requests something from Percy in regards to what happened in the locker room: ["Just don't... don't fuckin' look at me like that, yeah? It brings up things I'd rather not think about."] Percy says he can't entirely promise it, but will try his best. Blake returns to the car, and we get back to driving.

At 2am we get to Reno; Blake realizes he forgot to give Leo something, and hands him the Gameboy they'd taken from Kyra's base. We check into a motel, and Percy sets up a gun to point at the door while Blake takes a quick shower. We get set up; Percy watches the news, and Blake might've stolen some stuff based off a new report they see. Speaking of Blake, he exits the bathroom, and Leo notices the bandages on his arm. Leo confronts him about it (as well as the arm), and while Blake doesn't say anything about his injury he does admit to pawning things for cash and then coming back later to steal them back (as well as anything else he might like there). It's something he had apparently picked up while being a vampire; Leo's more concerned about the "possibly getting caught" part.

To avoid the sunlight from the curtains, the coterie all sleeps in the bathroom.

Notes/Commentary:

This is a bit shorter because it wasn't an official session? Anyway

Blake and Percy should physically fight each other /j Those two argued for the better part of an hour it was a whole thing

Leo's finally figured something out!!! My god. I'm gonna be real: I don't think I know how to roleplay his emotions about it. oh no and Oh Boy!

crumbs of lore from all of them....

[cigarettemother]

Hey here's my GW2 characters that I leveled and then never touched again

It's a real problem I just want to make creatures but then I have to level them to unlock specs and then I have to make them look pretty and then I probably delete them because I don't actually vibe with them anyway here are the ones that survived (so far)

It's all very rambly I've never written any lore down and I don't know how to structure things.

Meemie Grimsnarl

I forgot Pokémon existed fuck you I like the name it fits. She's named after a spicy bobcat on TikTok who I love and I love her so much Meemie my beloved. Grim-Warband, she snarls when eating.

Ariana Grounde

I love the gays and the gays love me shoutout to my brother Frankie who is gay!

Tealin Briar

I DIDN'T KNOW OK? I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT SCARLET. Anyway

Old main, semi-dropped just because I couldn't really get into her as a character again. I like her, I'm just struggling to make her personality fit with everything going on around her as commander. So she's no longer commander and in the middle of a full rewrite so uh this will be fragmented I don't know how to make the pieces fit anymore.

Grew up as an orphan in Divinity's Reach, has always been a bit "prickly" so the other kids called her Briar (see I had a reason) a name she officially adopted as an adult.

Really wanted to get into the mesmer collective her whole life, she's been motivated to "prove them wrong" despite not really knowing who she's proving wrong. Was accepted into the collective after HoT and quickly discovered it was kind of shit and not her kind of thing at all. But she's a shining blade now?? I haven't figured out the how yet but y'know she's one of those schemers with unresolved anger.

Due to the rework I have no idea how she lost her eye, it was originally during PoF but idk anymore.

She's just a prickly bitch that fought her way up the social ladder only to realize it was boring at the top.

Nora Fischer

The new and improved commander. Norn adopted by a human shipwright-family, grew up comfortably in Divinity's Reach, was the biggest girl in the guard. She's a big believer in both the spirits and the human gods. Have some headcanons about Norns being more bestial so I'm thinking she has a faint snow leopard pattern on her back/arms/legs and scared a lot of drunkards on her night patrols with her night-time laser eyes.

We joked about Nora attending a lot of social gatherings with her parents where they served itty bitty portions of food and how as soon as they got home her parents would release her like a dog and she would bolt down to the basement to feast in the dark. So she's a prim and proper lady but with a silly goofy feral side to her which they've had to adapt to as she grew up.

We also talked about how she attended her first Norn moot with her father and how she would have so much fun while her father was sidelined with a giant fur coat feeling very out of place but also reassured that his daughter would do well in life if she could excel in a chaotic situation like this.

She's also lesbian I don't really give my characters a sexuality but idk playing her she's just lesbian she just is that's just Nora over there crushing on the pretty girls the big femme top looking at the girls.

Idk I have more of a vibe for her I like her a lot she's a goofy gal from a family that loves and supports her. She's a goof because she's not a goof which makes her a goofball I like her a lot she looks like any prettygirl norns but in my head that's what makes her a goof. Again, I don't write down lore I am very much a vibe-based person.

Tiberius Marrowfed

One of the cooks in the Fed-Warband a warband all about supplying the front lines with nurturing slop. He's an alright cook but his specialty is drawing out every bit of flavor from bones. Permanent broth-duty.

Pirietta

@hookhound and I made "leafbians" for HoT. One day we'll do it but for now I'm having fun rolling on the ground with Deadeye. Pale Reaver? idk she's a bubbly girly assassin.

Mjollfrid

Bro I was like 15 now I'm just keeping the name to spite people who are weird about Norns.

Bruh Brofist

It's technically a valid name. I play him when I get knocked on my ass too much and I want to experience the highs and lows of flamethrower stability. He's all about building people up and yelling.

He's also canonically had straight sex with Orelius Hingejaw (because Bruh only has straight sex because he's straight)

Fhlizz

She's a freak a wildling a menace a creature in the truest sense. She has no loyalty to anyone but herself and her "friends" she has liberated from pet owners (they didn't feed them junk so they're better off with her because she let's them eat whatever they want). She has standing bounties in every major city but because of her destructive impact she and her friends have on whatever annoys her most cities (not black citadel) will simply send out scouts to observe her. She did a lot of accidental interference during Zhaitan's invasion just from being a roaming lethal anomaly.

She stole Tomme's dog. Chaotic Neutral. Uneducated.

Peasant Paul

He is just a normal dude. Does not fight.

Tusplha

Newest girl who knows how long I'll keep her. Tusplha is a schoolyard bully, a mean girl, a real stuck up self-centered brat. She's stolen credit for several projects and knows how to shut people up.

Etta Ashtender

She's in the danger zone. idk she tends ash?? I like the name.

Alice Volkhart

The reason I have decades devotion. I hate her name but also it's a good memory of being excited for the release of GW2, I would read the devlog every week up until release. Simpler times has exactly ZERO lore.

[notwhelmedyet]

an approximately chronological list of things i've fucked up in my current bookbinding project

When merging the individual chapter files into a single pdf I messed up the page numbers and had to go back and redo it

I did that again

I fixed the page numbers but forgot chapter 7 entirely and only caught it halfway through printing. Thankfully fixed it

Realized I fixed all of that without catching an image cutting off part of the text in the colophon. fixed it in the UK edition

Didn't test my inkjet ink for bleed before designing and drawing the entire Eriador map, only to realize that the magenta ink bled horribly. Fixed it by image editing all the red elements to brown.

(there were lots of other map mistakes but we're going to keep Fred Mithrin between us)

Marbling fuckups, which deserves a whole separate category:

Tried marbling outside. As it turns out, wind moves paint when it's floating on top of a pan of water. This makes it difficult to put the paint where you want it.

Alumed the paper, then pressed it in a stack under weights and left it overnight. Turns out the alum deactivates (chemistry something something) if left in an anaerobic environment for a long time and the sheets were ghostly pale

Made the size too thin (there was a wake like I was jet skiing with those combs and the patterns were illegible)

Made the size too thick (so many. fucking bubbles. everywhere)

Air bubbles in all the wrong places RIP

Made my stencil BACKWARDS because I didn't check which arm was injured before marbling

Alumned before applying the stencils (the paper warped everywhere except where the stencil was and then it wasn't flat)

Alumned after applying the stencils (now the paint could bleed under the stencil and it didn't have clean edges)

Used freezer paper for the stencils (this was my ultimate mistake it just doesn't stick enough to prevent bleed. i think. i never fixed this so who knows)

Black paint was haunted. (That's not so much a mistake as an unavoidable reality I didn't realize when planning my marbling)

Back to regular fuckups:

Tested a new endpaper style (hidden linen-joined endpapers) on one of my good marbled sheets rather than on a blank sheet of paper, only to realize the sulphite paper was too weak and would tear. Impossible to remove the linen from the sheet and had to abandon it for one of my sub-par marbled sheets

Glued the cloth hinges for the UK editions on BACKWARDS with PVA. compounded this mistake by trying to carefully remove them with a microspatula rather than living with it. Tore the paper. Attempted to mend it with kozo and warped the paper. Attempted to color it with paste paint to cover it up and tested my color match on plain rather than mended paper, leading it to be obviously the wrong color.

When sewing the US copy of ATWW I pulled the wrong thread while doing a weaver's knot and ripped the first signature out of the book (mended it with kozo tissue)

Trimmed the head of US DR with the pages askew because I forgot to square the book in the press in all 3 dimensions. Trimmed it again to try and correct that, but didn't take enough off so it wasn't flat. Tried to sand it flat and still didn't succeed. Gave up.

Glued and rounded the spine of UK ATWW before trimming the fore edge. Had a panic. Got the trimming setup and done in under half an hour, a new record.

Rounded the spines unevenly (always)

Didn't press UK DR tightly enough while sanding the inside fore edge and some of the pages got hooked in on themselves, necessitating going through with a microspatula and unhooking each page individually, then sanding again.

Over to edge marbling fuckups:

Used too strong of masking tape to tape off the head and tail when dipping the fore edges, which ripped the back side of the endpapers while removing.

Didn't dip US edition fore edges deep enough, leaving blank spaces

Panicked and dipped them a second time, making the pattern muddled

Managed to get bubbles on both the head and tail of the UK editions, because god hates me in particular

Attempted to fix one of the bubbles with paint and accidentally washed off a patch of marbling in the process.

Didn't press the books tight enough (quick release clamps were a mistake

Should have dried off the edges gently with a paper towel before air drying - the water on the edges seeped into the pages, causing both paint bleed and the books to warp out of square

Forgot the paste paper endpages and literally GLUED THE BOOKS SHUT. Had to very carefully pry them open again. 🤦

Aaaand that's as far as I've gotten so far but never fear more mistakes are on the way

[fuckedliar]

OW.  it  was  weird  when  she  actually  felt  pain,  had  she  become  that  used  to  it?  a  part  of  her  hoped  not.  it  burst  behind  her  eyes  and  blooms  in  the  front  of  her  brain  before  slipping  and  sliding  its  agonizing  sensation  through  each  piece  of  gray  matter.  she  cant  help  but  blink  a  few  times  willing  her  eyes  to  focus  just  in  time  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  bat  swinging  full  force  at  her  head.  her  palm  comes  up  to  embrace  the  swing  midway,  and  she  can  feel  a  few  bones  in  her  wrist  hairline  at  the  force.  his  swing  is  brought  up  short  and  she  wants  to  thrive  in  the  look  his  eyes  at  the  realization,  the  heel  of  her  boot  drawing  back  and  kicking  in  his  left  kneecap.  the  sound  is  brutal  and  echoes  against  the  trees  that  surround  them,  and  for  a  brief  moment  as  that  sharp  inhale  before  the  release  of  a  scream  comes  she  pitches  all  her  weight  into  her  shoulder  as  it  rams  into  his  sternum.  

@priestbit  and  james  forgot  to  mention  the  bat  shit  backwood  fucks  that  seemed  to  be  lurking  around  every  corner.  were  they  also  being  used  by  that  damn  priest?  or  were  they  just  idiots  looking  to  try  and  scare  her  and  the  others  off?  it  didn't  matter,  not  really.  a  piece  of  her  didn't  want  the  illusion  to  be  broken,  to  reveal  that  beneath  her  sweet  smile  was  something  sort  of  twisted  and  eager  to  wound.  tyler  warned  her  about  it;  he'd  caught  a  glimpse  of  it  that  there  in  her  actions  a  line  blurred  where  she  resembled  something  more  than  just  a  hunter  or  a  scorned.  where  she  melded  into  a  creature  much  like  their  kin,  like  an  abomination  that  just  happened  to  look  pretty.  she  shifts  over  billy  bobs  torso  quickly;  feeling  his  hands  flail  and  scramble  to  claw  at  her  throat.  she  doesn't  bother  to  fight  his  hands  back,  no  she's  quick  to  let  her  pink  painted  fingers  gouge  into  his  eyes.  the  soft  tissue  giving  way  beneath  her  force  before  she  feels  a  sharp  strike  collide  with  the  side  of  her  head,  rolling  her  off  him  and  into  the  damp  dirt. 

everything  seems  to  happen  so  quickly  and  agonizingly  slow  as  her  eyes  try  to  regain  focus  once  more.  he  has  a  rock  aimed  high  over  his  head;  he's  got  one  eye  left  the  other  completely  gone  to  shit  thanks  to  her.  he's  roaring  and  whether  its  in  pain  or  anger  elizabeth  cant  tell  and  she  doesnt  want  too,  but  she's  smiling.  a  wide  grin  that  takes  up  her  whole  face  as  she  slips  her  knees  up  between  them;  kicking  back  he  arches  into  the  air  fully  prepared  to  tumble  off  her  before  a  roaring  shot  is  heard.  it  makes  her  ears  ring  --  always  did  in  that  close  of  a  setting.  she  knows  the  sound  of  a  gun  when  she  hears  it  and  blinking  a  few  times  she  can  spy  that  the  top  left  half  of  his  head  is  gone.  she's  probably  wearing  it  now.  splatter  fashion  seemed  to  be  all  the  rage  among  slayers  and  she  happened  to  be  personally  dressed  by  the  designer  themselves.  her  arms  shove  the  body  off  of  her,  slowly  coming  to  sit  up  she  presses  a  hand  to  her  temple.  its  wet  and  warm,  '  yer  nose  is  bleedin'. 

donnie's  voice  is  low,  but  maybe  that's  still  the  gun  shot  going  off  in  her  ears.  scrunching  up  her  nose  she  shuffles  against  the  dirt  for  a  minute,  drawing  her  legs  up  under  her  before  trying  to  stand.  its  a  hand  that  catches  her  forearm  and  she  winces  as  the  world  stops  spinning  for  a  second,  "  thanks.  i  need  to  start  getting  a  concussion  punch  card  --  i  could  get  a  free  ct  scan  by  now.  "

[master-sass-blast]

Old Dogs and New Toys.

Summary: You’re wearing perfume, she realizes; not the light, faintly floral number you reserve for workdays, but the heavier, warmer scent you save for date nights. It also happens to be her favorite for you –honey, vanilla, amber, all mixing together and drawing her in until all she can do is hold you in her arms and devour you.

“It’s good to see you, too.” Grayson takes a moment to admire the whole presentation you’ve put on, then puts one hand on your waist and draws you closer to her so she can murmur in your ear. “Are we going somewhere tonight that I forgot about?”

“No,” you answer lightly –though she can feel the way you shiver against her. “Just felt like… dressing up.”

In the past near-thirty years of marriage, “dressing up” has always meant “take me to bed later” from you. And, as it has for the past near-thirty years, the phrase lights a fire low in her abdomen.

“Let me get freshened up,” she purrs in your ear, “and then I’ll come help you with dinner.”

Or, in other words, Grayson has a femme wife, doesn't die, and spends an evening romancing and fucking her beloved.

Pairing(s): Grayson x Reader.

Rating: E for explicit smut.

Word Count: 9.5k.

Fallen rust and gold colored leaves crunch beneath her heavy boots. The cool, crisp, evening breeze whispers around her, clearing away the heavy fog clouding her mind. She lifts her helmet off her head, sighing with relief as some of the tension in her neck and shoulders eases.

She could stay preoccupied with the day’s stresses; she’d have every right to, really –there was a council meeting that took two hours longer than necessary, which only succeeded in giving her a headache, a meet up with one of Vander’s informants turned out to be useless, and she’d had to separate a fight between her enforcers and some of the Undercity’s rebels towards the end of her shift, which meant staying longer to fill out paperwork and hand down reprimands…

But then she sees the roof of the home she shares with you come into view, and it all melts away.

Grayson smiles, relief and warmth flooding through her veins, and picks up her pace.

She’s made this walk hundreds of thousands of times over the past two and a half decades. She’s come home to you over, and over. Stepped inside the front door, locked it behind her, greeted you with a kiss while she shrugs out of her uniform jacket. Hundreds, thousands of times.

It never gets old. Grayson smiles as she strides up the flagstone-paved walkway that leads to the little bungalow the two of you call home. It’s far smaller than most of the houses in Piltover –especially the ones occupied by the council and other governing figures of society–but it’s what the two of you need and it’s kept you both warm, dry, and safe for almost thirty years. The two of you have built a life in this home. She proposed to you in this home. You’ve hosted dinners, spent time with friends, consoled each other, fought and made up in these four walls. If there’s anywhere her soul resides outside of your hands and her body, it’s here.

She strides up the front steps, unlocks and opens the front door, and immediately takes stock of the situation at hand as she closes the wooden portal behind her.

You’re already home –which is unsurprising. Such are the merits of being a tenured professor of journalism and setting your own hours. You’re playing a jazz record –one with emphasis on the trumpets and saxophone–and humming along in the kitchen. The smell of dinner hangs in the air, savory and enticing; something with tomato, garlic, pepper, and oregano.

Your humming stops when the front door thumps shut. “Gray?”

“I’m back.” She sets her helmet down on a side table just inside the front door, undoes the buckle of her belt, then hangs it up before unbuttoning her jacket. “Sorry. Work ran late.”

“It’s fine,” you reply. There’s a few clacks as you set something down on the counter, and then your footsteps approach the front of the house. “I’m just glad you’re home.”

“As am I.” She hangs up her jacket, then turns and smiles as you stride into the front room. She only has a few seconds before you’re right beside her, drawing her in for a kiss, but it’s enough to catalog the next bout of information.

You’re wearing a dress underneath your apron –one of her favorites, in fact; it’s a deep blue silk number that hits just above your knee and highlights the curves of your legs and hips. Your makeup’s fresher, sultrier than how you normally look at the end of the day –not that it matters all that much to her, but it’s still important in the context of the bigger picture.

Grayson hums contentedly against your lips –then lets out a soft gasp when she tries to break it, only for you to chase her lips and draw her back in. She lets you lead the kiss, slow and lingering, then chuckles when you finally call things off, apparently satisfied. “Hello to you, too.”

You smile, eyes glinting. “It’s good to see you.”

You’re wearing perfume, she realizes; not the light, faintly floral number you reserve for workdays, but the heavier, warmer scent you save for date nights. It also happens to be her favorite for you –honey, vanilla, amber, all mixing together and drawing her in until all she can do is hold you in her arms and devour you.

“It’s good to see you, too.” Grayson takes a moment to admire the whole presentation you’ve put on, then puts one hand on your waist and draws you closer to her so she can murmur in your ear. “Are we going somewhere tonight that I forgot about?”

“No,” you answer lightly –though she can feel the way you shiver against her. “Just felt like… dressing up.”

In the past near-thirty years of marriage, “dressing up” has always meant “take me to bed later” from you. And, as it has for the past near-thirty years, the phrase lights a fire low in her abdomen.

“Let me get freshened up,” she purrs in your ear, “and then I’ll come help you with dinner.”

***

She showers. On days where she enters the Undercity, it’s a necessity. Not just to remove the toxins from the Undercity’s air from her skin, but to cleanse herself of the stench. Stale air, human waste, the gasses from the old mines. She’s questioned countless times just how anyone breathes down there –then spent many a sleepless night haunted by how thousands are forced to live in a city filled with unbreathable air for Piltover’s riches.

Once she’s clean, she dries and styles her hair, then moisturizes her face (a habit of yours that’s rubbed off on her) before applying some cologne. She usually wears cologne anyway, but tonight she reaches for the bottle of the “date night” scent she keeps for you –sandalwood, pine, citrus, cinnamon, and amber. It’s the same “date night” scent she’s worn for as long as she can remember, but you’ve always raved about how much you adore it; that’s all she needs to keep from changing it.

Once she feels fresher, she heads to the bedroom closet and pulls out one of her suits –specifically, the charcoal gray one you like. She pairs it with a white button-down shirt –pressed flawlessly crisp, of course–and a faintly checkered, monochromatic navy tie that matches your dress. She puts on a pair of socks, but decides against shoes. (One of the luxuries of being in one’s home, after all, is forgoing shoes when one pleases.) She carefully buttons her blazer up, pauses to admire herself in the mirror next to the bed, then smiles to herself before exiting the bedroom and heading down the half-staircase to assist you in the kitchen.

You’re bent at the waist, pulling a ceramic baking dish filled with a bubbling, red, saucy dish from the rack. You glance over at her as she pauses in the doorway, then smirk before setting the dish on the stovetop and closing the oven door. “You clean up nicely.”

“So I’ve been told.” She waits to make sure you’re not going to fuss with the hot food before stalking over to you. She bars one arm around your waist, relishing how you moan softly as she purrs in your ear, “You look exquisite.”

“Thank you.” You draw in a shaky breath when she ghosts her lips along the curve of your neck, then laugh. “We’re eating dinner first, Gray.”

“I could just eat you, instead.”

You smirk up at her, sultry, then press the pad of your index finger against her lips to halt her. “Dinner first.”

She smirks back, then kisses the tip of your finger. “As you say.” She loosens her hold on you, letting you slip out of her grasp. “How can I help?”

“Would you set the table and pick some wine for us?” you ask as you look around. “Most everything else is done.”

“Of course.” She heads towards the pantry. “What do you think to drink?”

“A red, I think,” you say as you check a few other dishes on the stove top. “But you know I’m not picky.”

Grayson chuckles, then selects a mild bottle of red wine before carrying it to the table. She sets the table carefully, making certain that all the silverware is evenly spaced apart –a habit picked up from her grandmother, and one she never quite managed to impart to you–before opening the bottle of wine and setting it aside to breathe. She opens the drawer of the china cabinet, then frowns. Where on earth… She closes the drawer after a thorough visual inspection, then kneels and checks in the little storage cabinets at the base of the cabinet. “Where did the heat resistant pads wind up at?”

“Third drawer under the coffee maker. I moved them after we kept needing them in the kitchen and we got frustrated with having to go to the dining room every time to grab one, remember?”

“Ah, yes.” She stands, wincing slightly as her knees crack, then strides back to the kitchen. “We tried making croissants from scratch and ran out of places to set the hot trays.”

You scoff as you finish seasoning a dish of roasted vegetables. “‘Baking as a hobby’ my ass. I’ve had cavity fillings more relaxing than that.”

Grayson laughs, then pulls a few hot pads out of the drawer before leaning over and kissing your temple. “They tasted alright, which I think was the point.”

“The ones from the bakery downtown taste better, and I don’t have to sweat to make them.”

“Says the woman who cooked dinner in a silk dress.”

You arch one eyebrow at her and grin. “Ah, but I didn’t! I cooked in normal clothes until everything was going on its own, and then I changed.”

“How sensible.” She smiles when you laugh, then grabs the dish of roasted vegetables and follows you to the dining room table.

It’s a bit of a dance, finishing setting the table –one that’s familiar and comforting. The two of you work around each other, falling into step without thought. She sets the hot pads down, then hangs back while you place the main dish on the table. She sets down the roast vegetables afterwards, then serves a portion from the main dish for each of you while you pour two glasses of wine. Then, you’re taking off your apron and setting it aside, and she’s pulling out your chair–

Grayson blinks when you burst into delighted giggles, then smiles (albeit with a touch of confusion). “What?”

“I didn’t realize you weren’t wearing shoes!” At her bemused smirk, you gesture to her sock-clad feet. “It just struck me as funny, how you got all dressed up but didn’t bother with shoes. That’s all.”

“We’re at home.” She shrugs, unruffled. “I don’t see why I should have to wear shoes in my own home.”

“True –but now I feel overdressed.”

“Oh, sit down,” Grayson says when you lift one foot to take off your own shoes. “I can do that.” Once you’re seated, she carefully undoes the clasps on one shoe, then the other, then slips the leather heels off your feet gently. She sets the shoes out of the way so you won’t trip on them later, then kisses both your knees.

“Behave,” you reprimand her, voice heavy with arousal, as her hand slides up the back of your calf, towards the hem of your dress. “We’re having dinner.”

Grayson smirks up at you, then stands and brushes her lips against yours. “My apologies, darling.”

“Apology accepted.” You lean towards her, making a show of how your dress’s neckline shows off your chest and collarbones, then pulls back before she can seal her lips against yours. “Go sit down.”

She stares down at you for a moment, debating the merits of hauling you out of your seat and taking you to bed now –but Grayson’s a patient woman. And countless years of marriage have certainly taught her better than to waste your labors in the kitchen. She lifts your hand, presses a smoldering kiss against your knuckles, then walks over to her seat and sits down across from you.

You grin, all too aware of the effect you have on her, and lift your glass. “To you, my love.”

Grayson smiles softly, then lifts her glass in return. “And to you, my darling.”

***

Dinner is unhurried. The two of you have always leaned towards taking your time, savoring the meal and each other. You eat slowly, talking about your respective days and plans for the upcoming weekend.

Which isn’t to say that dinner is boring. For one, the food is amazing; you’ve outdone yourself, which Grayson makes sure to tell you after taking the first bite and groaning obscenely. Second, she could spend the rest of eternity talking to you about everything and nothing at all. She simply likes –yearns for–your company, the sound of your voice, the comfort of your presence. But third, and most important, is that dinner is not a moment to be wasted or foolishly rushed through. 

Dinner is a prelude. A foundation for the passions to come later in the evening. It’s a way to build the tension between two people with the simplest of gestures –and Grayson is not one to waste such a rich opportunity.

She holds your gaze while sipping at her wine. She makes a point to let her eyes rove over your face and body, and makes sure you notice her doing it. She keeps her voice warm and low –which she already has a natural advantage at–because she knows her voice makes you weak in the knees (not that she quite understands it, no matter how many times you explain it to her, but she’s certainly not complaining). At one point during the meal, she uses her long legs to her advantage by extending one leg so she can rub her foot against yours –which quickly devolves into you trying to shove her foot around with your foot, and you wind up giggling madly, but who’s to say there’s no place for humor or silliness in romance? She chuckles, amused and so deeply fond, and admires the laugh lines around your mouth and eyes instead.

“How are things in Zaun?” you ask as you spear the last of the roasted vegetables onto your fork.

Grayson sighs and spins her mostly empty wine glass with her fingers. “Complicated.”

“As ever.”

“As ever.” She wipes her fingers on her napkin, then sets it next to her mostly empty plate. “Caitlyn’s making good headway in her cases, though. The number of Shimmer shipments to Piltover has been halved –which may or may not have something to do with her girlfriend taking a set of Hextech gauntlets to Silco’s main production plant.”

“Which means it does,” you note with a smirk.

“It does,” Grayson confirms, sighing. She’s fond of Caitlyn, intrigued by Violet, but gods if those two aren’t going to turn the rest of her hair gray. “They’re good kids. They work well together.”

“Good. Though, darling, I have to point out: they’re hardly children anymore.”

“It’s a relative term.” Grayson grins at the coy smirk painted upon your lips. “Besides, if they’re not children, what does that make us?”

You chuckle. “Old, love. We’re old.”

“Perish the thought,” she argues playfully. “I feel as young as ever.”

“Says the woman who has to use reading glasses to read the morning paper–”

“We agreed never to speak of that!” Grayson interjects, pointing at you in a teasing, accusatory manner. She smiles when you laugh, then shakes her head. “No, you’re right. We’re a couple of old dogs.”

You grin and shrug. “Still young at heart, though.”

“Of course.”

You smile and study her for a moment. Then, you lean back in your seat and ask, “So, does a certain ‘old dog’ have any thoughts about retiring?”

Grayson smirks at the quip, but sobers as she shakes her head. “No. Not with how things have shifted down below. We’re finally making progress.”

“...And you’re worried if you leave, whoever replaces you will mess it up?”

“A little,” she admits. “I’m more worried about the Council bullying whoever comes next into picking up ‘the old ways’ again. They’ve been less than thrilled about the Undercity’s growing independence.”

You frown, brows drawing together. “Even with the reduction in crime and Shimmer distribution?”

“An unstable Zaun is a controllable Zaun. It makes them dependent on Piltover,” Grayson says. She raises one eyebrow when you let out an irritated huff, then shrugs. “It is what it is. The way I see it, they have to put up with me as much as I have to put up with them.”

“They ought to count themselves lucky,” you retort as you drag your gaze over her suit-clad form.

Grayson smirks, then leans forwards in her seat and locks her gaze with yours. “You do realize that the more time I spend with them, the less time I can spend with you?”

“I’ve always said you ought to retire and spend the rest of your years fucking me into the bed,” you fire back, tone airy. You smirk, then stand, grab your dinner dishes, and carry them to the kitchen. “Not my fault if you don’t listen.”

She waits to follow you so she can admire the way your dress hugs your ass, then grabs her own dishes and stalks after you. She catches you at the sink –and her chivalry overtakes her need to pin you against the nearest solid surface and tease you until you’re begging. “Let me do that.”

“I’m just leaving them to soak,” you say, waving her off. “If you could put the leftovers away, though…”

“Of course.” She covers the top of the vegetable and main dishes, puts them in the fridge –but when she’s done, you’re still getting the dishes set in the sink to soak… which gives her an idea. We ought to dance. Grayson slips out of the kitchen and into the sitting room in the back.

It’s a small room that overlooks the backyard and the woods behind your home. The two of you mostly use it as a library; the walls are dominated by wooden bookshelves filled to the brim. There’s a wood stove on one wall, which is bracketed by two armchairs. A slightly-too-large couch is tucked into the corner of room (she’d initially assured you that it’d fit the space perfectly, only to be proven wrong upon carrying the sofa into the room, but had been adamant about making the couch work with the room, and in that corner it’d stayed for fifteen years) alongside a gramophone.

She turns on a lamp, then pulls one of the many records out of your collection –a jazzy piece that won’t be too quick. She slips the vinyl disc out of its protective paper cover, places it on the gramophone, then turns the player on before placing the needle against the record.

The sound of drums kicks off, followed by horns and piano.

“The maddest kind of love… is a love you know is wrong…”

“Gray?” The light flicks off in the kitchen, and then your footsteps approach the sitting room. You round the corner, smiling curiously.

She holds one hand out to you, smiling in return. “Dance with me.”

You grin, then take her hand.

It’s another ritual for the two of you; even on the nights where you don’t have sex, you often wind up dancing together. You both love music; you’re both “sappy romantics,” as you like to say. After dinner, you’ll both often retire to the sitting room, put on a record, and get settled in to read –only to wind up dancing halfway through because neither of you can resist the opportunity.

“You know I speak from experience; I live it each day–”

“I like this suit,” you murmur. You rub one hand appreciatively over her chest, then stop to adjust how her tie sits under her blazer. “And this tie.”

“I know,” Grayson purrs back. She runs her hand down to the small of your back and pulls you closer. “Just like how I like this dress.”

“It’s something she does, it’s something she’ll say… It’s the maddest kind of love…”

“I know,” you whisper. You grip her shoulder tighter, shivering as she brushes her lips against the sensitive spot beneath your ear –then gasp and stumble.

Grayson tightens her arm around you, holding you steady. “What’s wrong?”

You look down, then laugh. “I forgot I’m only wearing stockings! I slipped on the hardwood.”

“Oh, goodness.” Grayson glances down, then steps back and guides you back onto the area rug that covers most of the sitting room floor. “My apologies, love.”

“It’s not your fault,” you laugh, shaking your head. “Besides, you caught me."

She gazes down into your eyes, swept away by the fondness of your expression. “I always will.”

Your expression softens, and you beam adoringly up at her. “I know.”

She smiles, then resumes the dance. She takes care to keep you on the carpet, and lets her chin rest against the top of your head when you lay your head against her shoulder.

The music comes to an end, eventually, but the two of you continue swaying for a bit, content to be in each other’s arms.

Eventually, though, you lift your head and kiss her neck, just above her collar. Then, higher, and again against the underside of her jaw, until she turns her head and you can whisper against her lips, “Take me to bed, Gray.”

So she does just that.

***

It’s not a race upstairs; you’re both too old for that, and she doesn’t want you slipping on the hardwood floors again. She follows you up the half-staircase, both so she can steady you if you fall and so she can admire the sway of your hips and ass.

But as soon as the door to your bedroom closes behind you both… Well, that’s a different story.

She grabs your wrist, drawing you back to her. She bars one around your back, clutching you tight against her chest, and seals her lips against yours in a deep, devouring kiss.

You moan into her mouth. You clutch at the lapels of her blazer, crushing yourself against her as closely as you can. You groan when she nips at your lower lip, then sink one hand into her hair and tug.

Grayson growls, then walks you backwards until you’re pinned between her and the bed. She kisses down your jaw, then licks the hollow of your throat. “Now that we’ve had dinner, my darling, I think I’ll have you for dessert.”

You whimper and part your legs for her. “Please.”

She attacks your neck with her tongue. She makes certain to traverse every inch of skin, drinking in your gasps and moans. She –gently–drags her teeth over the hollow of your throat, then clutches you tighter when you shudder beneath her. She drags her palms up your thighs, under the hem of your dress, then groans when she feels lace and straps against your skin. “You’re wearing garters.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, voice breathy and pleased. “I know you like them.”

Grayson chuckles against your neck weakly. ‘Like them?’ She’s lost count of how many times you’ve talked her into nearly anything while wearing stockings, garters, and a coy look. She rolls her tongue against the spot on your neck just beneath your jaw, then slides one arm under your back when you arch against her. “I want this dress off of you. Now.”

You sit up, wincing as you hold one hand against the back of your head. “Let me take my hair down first?”

“Of course.” She stands, helps you to your feet, then shadows you over to the vanity you keep in the bedroom. She watches as you start taking pins out, then steps closer. “Here. Let me help you.”

“Thank you.”

The two of you work in silence, until there’s a neat pile of bobby pins on the wooden vanity top and your hair’s hanging around your face and shoulders.

You take off your necklace, place it in the jewelry box you keep on your vanity, then meet her gaze in the mirror and smirk. “Care to unzip me, darling?”

“With pleasure, my love.” She slowly drags down the zipper on your dress–she makes sure to let her knuckle brush against your spine along the way–then pushes the fabric from your shoulders and watches, satisfied, as the dress drops to the floor in a silky pool around your feet. She steps back when you step out of your dress and bend to pick it up, content to admire the lingerie you’d been wearing beneath the garment. It’s a matching black lace set, one you’ve purchased recently; she’s only seen it a few times. Breathtaking.

You drape your dress over the vanity mirror –to hopefully prevent wrinkling–then fluff your hair up before turning to face her. You grin, then strike a pose for her. “How do I look?”

“Incredible.” Grayson smirks when you let out a delighted giggle, then draws you back into her arms and carries you back to bed.

She takes her time with you. She savors every inch of your skin. How soft it is against your lips and under her fingertips. How warm and smooth it is against her tongue –and even the parts that aren’t. She worships your wrinkles, your stretch marks, the faint freckles from sun exposure.

She worships you. Her wife. Her life partner. Her soulmate.

(And what better place for a worshiper than on their knees?)

She positions you on the edge of the bed, drags your panties down your legs, and casts them aside. Then, she gets on her knees. She places your thighs on her shoulders. She puts her hands on your hips to steady you, then gently kisses the inside of your right thigh, just above the lace band of your stocking.

You whimper, hips twitching in your eagerness. “Grayson –please.”

She takes a moment to admire you –particularly, the way your breasts look at this angle (she’d discarded your bra ages ago). She places another kiss at the juncture where your thigh and hip meet, savoring the whine you let loose. Then, she takes mercy on you, and slides her hands down your hips so she can part your folds with her thumbs.

You moan, back arching in anticipation. “Please, please, please…”

She can see the arousal glistening on your folds. She can smell it –the musk and faint sweat. Her own cunt throbs with desire, just from the sensuality of it all.

Grayson presses a soft, barely-there kiss against your clit, then angles her head lower and presses her tongue along the length of your cunt.

“Oh–”

She takes her time with you. She savors you, yes, revels in how you feel against her mouth –but she also teases you, stokes the fire of arousal. She works you up slow but steady; she’s not some young, hormone-crazed punk. She doesn’t need to work you through your pleasure quickly just so she can get to her own. Years of service with the enforcers have taught her patience; years of being married to you has taught her patience. And she knows from decades of sharing a bed with you that taking things slow, gently working you towards climax, is nothing short of exquisite to witness.

So she goes slow. Teases you with her tongue and lips. She circuits your folds with her tongue in even, languid movements. She kisses your clit, gently swirls her tongue against the bundle of nerves, then moves lower to lap at your dripping entrance. She makes that journey several times over, until you’re panting and your thighs are quivering on either side of her head.

You whimper –and then your hands land on her head. Your fingers curl into her hair, tugging her closer as you try to ride her mouth. “Gray…”

Arousal pulses through her at the breathless, needy way you draw out her nickname. “Tell me what you need, darling.”

“Fuck me,” you groan, tugging on her hair again.

She moans against your pussy, then lifts her hand and slips two fingers into your dripping pussy.

You moan, loud and broken. “Grayson!”

She fucks you quickly, curling her fingers against your walls. She strokes your clit with her tongue, groaning at the way you twitch and tighten around her fingers in response. She can hear your panting quicken, can feel your hips grinding against her face; you’re getting close to climaxing, and it only turns her on further. She squeezes her thighs together, then doubles down and seals her lips around your clit.

“Fuck.” You let out a high-pitched moan, body trembling. “Gray –please–”

She sucks on your clit, quickly falling into rhythm with the pumps of her fingers. She swirls her tongue against your clit while sucking, then bars her other arm over your hips to hold you still. She closes her eyes, focusing only on your taste, your heat, the way your moans crescendo as your body trembles–

“Grayson!”

She continues teasing your clit and fucking you with her fingers; she carries you through your climax, then lets up when you shove against her forehead. She pulls away, and pants as she takes you in.

You’re gasping, chest heaving with every breath. Your face, neck, and chest are flushed. A sheen of sweat covers your skin, making you glow in the lamp light.

You look incredible. Sublime.

She licks her lips clean, sucks your arousal off her fingers as well, then wipes her chin on the back of her hand before standing. “I’ll be right back.” She kisses your temple, then your lips, then heads to the bathroom to clean up. 

When she comes back, you’re stretched across the bed, digging through your top nightstand drawer. She leans against the bathroom door frame, and smirks as she admires your bare ass. “Looking for something?”

You toss her a grin over your shoulder, then resume searching through your nightstand. “I got you a present.” You pull a smooth, matte black box out of the drawer, then sit up and hold it out to her. “Or, I suppose it’s for us, really.”

She sits on the foot of the bed, taking the proffered box. She lifts off the lid, then frowns down at the contents: a dildo. 

It’s a sleek, metal, double-ended dildo designed to be inserted into the wearer and held in place by the vaginal muscles. The toy has translucent blue embeds along the side, and there’s a switch near the “base” end. There’s also a very familiar gold symbol on the “top” side. 

She arches one eyebrow, then shoots you a disbelieving look. “Hextech branched out into sex toys?”

“It’s only the same technology, not the same company.” You nod to the toy, lips quirked into a wanton smile. “It’s supposed to give the wearer the sensation of having a real phallus.” You cock your head to one side as she picks up the dildo to examine it. “It has some interesting future implications for transitionatory surgery for transgender men, or reparative surgery for victims of genital mutilation or loss in accidents, due to illness, and so on.”

Grayson smiles at you. “Ever the open-minded journalist.” She examines the dildo for a moment longer, taking note of the smoothness of the toy and the weight of it in her hand, then looks back at you. “I take it you have ideas.”

“I thought it might be fun,” you say, voice purposefully light. You place one hand on her thigh and slide it up towards her hip. “But, my darling, I think you may be overdressed.”

She grins, slow and excited, then leans towards you until her lips are brushing against yours. “Then, perhaps, we ought to do something about that, my love.”

She’s far less precious with her clothes than you were with yours. Part of it is due to her own arousal; she wants you, plain and simple. The rest of it is her own curiosity. She wants to know if the toy will live up to its promises. She wants to know how you’ll feel wrapped around her. 

She undoes her belt buckle, kissing you fervently as you palm her bare tits. She shucks out of her slacks, briefs, and socks, then tosses them on the floor before pressing you against the bed. She kisses you again, licks into your mouth until you’re moaning around her tongue. She growls when you wrap your legs around her hips and grinds forward against you.

You clutch at her shoulders, then break the kiss and tip your head back. You let out a loud, ragged moan when she moves to your neck. “Gray –Gray, please–”

“You want me to fuck you, darling?” she purrs. She moves her mouth to your ear, and nips at your earlobe before murmuring, “You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes.” You arch up against her, rocking your hips against hers. “Yes –yes, Grayson, please–”

She kisses you again, deep and lingering, then sits back and reaches for the dildo. Once it’s in her hand, she turns towards her nightstand –then stops and looks at you. “Did we leave the lube on my side or yours?”

You point to her side. “Yours. Remember? Last Saturday morning?”

“Ah, yes.” She grins, reminiscing, then opens the top drawer and pulls out a small, clear bottle of lubricant. She squeezes some onto her fingers, then lubes up “her” end before inserting the toy into her cunt. She squeezes more lube onto her fingers, to lube the toy’s shaft–

“Gray.” You sit up, halting her movements. You smirk up at her, then reach for the switch. “You’re supposed to turn it on.”

“I know.” She smirks back at you, then nods. She watches you flip the switch, then lets out a gasp when the toy hums to life.

It’s almost an electric feeling. She can feel the toy –well, obviously, she can feel it, but she can feel the size of it. How far it extends from her body. How large around the dildo is. It’s almost as though the toy is part of her own anatomy.

You’re watching her, expression one of rapt attention. Your eyes are wide and dark with lust. You one run hand over her hip, gaze flicking down to admire the way clear inserts on the toy glow blue. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She lets out a slightly unsteady breath, then nods. “I’m fine. Just a new sensation, is all.”

“Does it hurt?”

She shakes her head, then cups your cheek with her hand. “I’m fine.”

You smile at her –but there’s something mischievous dancing behind your eyes. “Good.”

And then you wrap your hand around the shaft of the dildo.

Sensation judders through her body. She can feel your hand –the warmth and softness of your skin, the pressure your palm and fingers exert against the dildo’s surface. It lights an inferno in her belly. Grayson’s eyes flutter shut, and she lets out a startled, pleased groan.

“Does that feel good?” you ask, voice sweet and soft as you gently stroke her up and down.

Grayson swallows, then lets out a juddering breath as her hips rock into your touch. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Grayson opens her eyes –only for them to cross when you run your tongue along the underside of the dildo’s shaft. She groans as arousal spikes through her gut. “Fuck–”

You chuckle, then lick along the side of the toy. “I guess the claims about ‘realistic sensation’ are well founded.”

“Very.” She swallows again, mouth dry, then finally manages to open her eyes and look down at you. She takes in your wanton grin and smirks. “Minx.”

“Yours.” You close your lips around the tip of the dildo and suck gently –just enough to have her gaze unfocusing again–then release the toy with a wet pop and grin once more. “You gonna fuck me or not?”

Grayson narrows her eyes at you –playfully, of course–then pushes you back against the bed with her clean hand. She lubes up the shaft of the toy –which sends another round of sensation and pleasure through her body, but she manages to focus past it–then climbs on top of you.

You part your legs for her with an eager smile. Once she’s nestled between your thighs, you draw your arms around her shoulders and pull her in as close as you can. “I love you.”

Grayson kisses your cheek, soft and sweet. “I love you, too.” She kisses you again when you turn your head to press your lips against hers, then aligns her hips with yours. She grabs your thigh with one hand, to give herself better leverage, then presses her hips forward.

It’s like heaven. She can feel the walls of your pussy wrapping around the toy, twitching as you whimper from the stimulation. You’re warm, and wet, and tight around her, and the sensation of it all makes her head swim.

You stroke her shoulders when she groans. “You okay, love?”

She nods, incapable of coherent speech. Her hips come to rest against yours. She’s panting against your neck, body keyed up from the onslaught of new sensation.

“Do you need a minute?”

“I’m fine.” She lets out another harsh breath, then nuzzles into your neck. “You feel incredible.”

You let out an airy laugh and hold her closer. “You feel pretty good yourself.”

She nips at your neck, then grins when you laugh again. “Are you comfortable?”

“I’m fine, Gray,” you assure her. You turn your head and look her in the eye. “I’d be a lot better, though, if you did your ‘wifely duties.’”

Grayson arches one eyebrow –then practically goes cross-eyed when you intentionally squeeze your walls around the dildo. Her hips jerk against yours. “Fuck.”

You giggle, then run your fingers through her thick, wavy hair. “Unless you can’t handle it.” You brush your lips against her neck, then tip your head back and nip at her earlobe. “Is it too much for you, baby?”

The saccharine, teasing tone of your voice makes her veins burn –but that has nothing on your unabashed bratting. She props herself up on her forearms and stares down at you, gaze smoldering. “Is that how it is?” When you merely bat your eyelashes and bite your lip at her, she smirks. “If you wanted me to fuck you, darling, all you need do was ask.”

“I did. Thus far, you haven’t.”

She narrows her eyes at you, then straightens until she’s on her knees. She wraps one hand around each of your thighs –and, as she’s done so many times before, she revels at how easily she can fit her hands around your thighs–and presses your legs back, holding you in place. She doesn’t miss the way your eyes dance with anticipation –nor how you start panting softly as she draws her hips back. But, before she thrusts back in, she catches your gaze, arches one eyebrow, and smirks. “I think you can be more polite than that.”

Your eyes flash, equal parts desire and defiance. You lick your lips, then relent with a groan. “Please, Gray.”

She stays still. “Please, what?”

“Please fuck me into the bed–”

She snaps her hips back against yours, making you cut yourself off with a wail. She does it again, then growls, “With pleasure,” as your back arches off the bed.

Grayson isn’t a woman of delusions or willful ignorance. She knows she’s no Spring chicken. Her knees hurt whenever there’s a storm rolling in, her hair’s more gray than black nowadays, and, yes, she does need glasses to read the morning paper.

But she prides herself on staying in shape. Her job as an enforcer is physically demanding, for one. For another, she enjoys the health benefits –more energy, better sleep, improved mental acuity, and so on. On top of it all, she likes how she looks. Her strength and physique make her feel confident. Attractive.

Not to mention there are the obvious benefits of better “bedroom performance,” as it were. She’s not one to brag, but she’s very capable of lasting several rounds with you, of making you climax over and over, whether she’s fucking you into the mattress, making slow, gentle love, or doing something in between.

So, normally, she has an easy time fucking you, when the two of you happen to decide on using a strap on.

Normally, however, she isn’t also wearing a dildo that gives her the same sensations as a flesh and blood cock.

Suddenly, Grayson’s understanding where all the jokes about young men blowing a load from excitement alone come from.

You let out a breathless, hitched laugh when she groans and the rhythm of her thrusts falters once more. “What’s the matter, love?” you croon between pants. You squeeze your vaginal walls, then smirk when she curses under her breath. “Can’t take it?”

She growls, then digs her fingers into your thighs and pushes your legs back until your knees are nearly flush with your chest. She stops for a moment, both to catch her breath and savor how sweetly you keen for her, then snaps her hips against yours –hard. She bares her teeth in a grin when you shriek, thrusts into you again, then again when your hands scrabble against her shoulders and you whimper. “I know you can behave better than that, darling.”

You whine; you’re pinned neatly against the bed, what with how she’s holding your thighs apart, so you dig your fingernails into her shoulders and toss your head back as you moan instead. “Gray –please, please, please–”

She chuckles, dark and gravelly. “What, now you feel like behaving?”

Your face creases with pleasure as your body shakes with the force of her thrusts. “Gray��”

She leans down, intent on growling more taunts and praise in your ear while she fucks you, only to let out a broken moan as the sublime sensation of friction, and pressure, and wetness from the dildo sends a bolt of pleasure through her cunt. She lets her head drop next to yours against the pillow, groaning as she keeps thrusting. “Fuck.”

It’s a lost cause, trying to ignore the stimulation from the dildo; it’s too new, too intense –too sweet, too good–to simply cast aside. Combined with the way the bulbed end of the dildo rubs against her own walls, there’s no way she’s going to fuck you into the bed and keep her composure.

So she lets go. She sets aside the notion of staying collected and focusing solely on fucking you. Instead, she pulls you closer. Appreciates how warm, and solid, and soft you feel in her arms, and revels in the pleasure your body’s giving her in return.

“Grayson!” You gasp and rake your nails down her muscular shoulders and arms. You’re trembling, keening with each thrust. You toss your head back, then moan when she descends upon your exposed neck with lips, teeth, and tongue. “Grayson, Grayson, Grayson…”

She sucks another mark onto your neck, rolls your supple skin between her teeth to ensure it lasts, then releases it to let out another breathless groan of your name. She’s close –her eyes are practically rolling into the back of her head–and she’s not going to last. Not at this rate. And there’s no use stopping, either; you feel so heavenly wrapped around her –the dildo’s clearly living up to its claims–and she’s so damn close. She wants it. Needs it. She moans again, then props herself up on her forearms as her hips rock against yours. “Touch yourself for me.”

You whine, then wrest one hand between your bodies and slide it down until you reach your clit. You begin stroking it, circling the bundle of nerves with your fingers, then moan. “Oh –fuck, Gray–”

“That’s it.” She presses sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your neck and under your jaw. “Just like that; good girl–”

You moan –and then you suck in a breath and go tense. “Grayson… Grayson!”

She moans, already aroused enough from how exquisite you sound when you climax –and then lets out a strangled shout when she feels it through the toy. Your walls tense around her –and she’s felt you cum around her fingers before, plenty of times, but the added pressure and tightness finishes killing off everything in her own brain that isn’t focused on relieving her own need for pleasure.

She drops down –not hard, she doesn’t want to hurt you–and shoves one arm under your lower back so she can hold you against her. She digs her knees into the mattress for leverage, then thrusts into you wildly as she chases her own release.

“Yes!” You arch up against her, gasping as she fucks you through your own orgasm. “Grayson –yes–fuck me–”

Grayson groans through gritted teeth. She buries her face in your neck, eyes squeezed tightly shut. The rest of the world fritters away, until it’s just you and her. Your body against hers. The way her cunt draws tighter and tighter around the bulbed end of the dildo buried inside her. Your breathless, beautiful voice in her ears. The pleasure from the simulated sensation from the toy and your pussy. Your legs wrapped around her hips…

And then you’re cupping her jaw and lifting her head up, up, up until her open mouth is pressed against yours. “Come for me, Gray.”

She moans into your mouth, fragmented and strained, and finally topples over the edge herself.

The bedroom falls silent, save for your two’s labored breathing.

You’re limp beneath her, lost in the afterglow of your own orgasm. After a moment, though, you let out a soft moan, then say, “That… was amazing.”

Grayson merely lets out a hoarse chuckle, mind too far gone for coherent conversation.

You pat her shoulder, then turn your head and kiss her temple. “Who says old dogs can’t learn new tricks?”

She snorts. “I think,” she manages between pants, “it’s less of a ‘new trick…’ and more of a ‘new toy,’ love. I do… like to think of myself… as well-versed… in this arena.”

You giggle, then kiss her cheek. “And you are, my darling. A consummate master of the art.”

Grayson smirks against your neck, then lets out a sigh when you start combing her fingers through her hair and melts against you.

***

The two of you take your time coming down from your orgasms. For one, there’s no rush; it’s not like either of you have anywhere to be. For another, you’re both worn out –old dogs and all that. For a third, you both enjoy cuddling too much to bother getting up quickly. The most that Grayson does is turn off the toy, pull out of you before removing the dildo from her own pussy, sets it atop the box so she can clean it later, before collapsing back into bed next to you and drawing her arms around you.

You pillow your head against her chest and let out a contented, sleepy hum when she starts stroking her fingers through your hair. “Love you.”

“And I love you,” she murmurs back. She lets her body relax against the bed and lets her mind drift, content to bask in the afterglow of her orgasm and your warmth. 

Eventually, though, the practical things in life override her drowsy, relaxed lazing –chiefly, that you both need to clean up. The dildo needs cleaning as well, and that the bedsheets could stand to be washed after soaking up both your sweat. Could stand a good stretch, too, Grayson mentally tacks on when she shifts and her stiff hips bark in protest. Or maybe a soak. Say… “We should have a hot bath.”

You grunt against her chest. “That sounds like it requires moving.”

She laughs, voice slightly hoarse, then rubs her hand over your back to roust you from your drowsy state. “We need to do that regardless. UTIs are no laughing matter at our age. Besides, you made a wet spot on the bed.”

“Your mom’s a wet spot on the bed.”

Grayson snorts and rolls her eyes, then kisses the top of your head. “Come on, love.” She smirks when you groan in protest and refuse to budge from your prized, comfortable position by her side. “It’ll feel good.”

You let out another disinterested, tired grunt.

“It’ll be romantic.” Grayson smiles when you finally lift your head, interest now piqued, and continues rubbing your back while she elaborates. “We can use some of the scented oils you like, light a few candles –I’ll even rub your shoulders.”

That, finally, seals the deal for you. You narrow your eyes, then point at her. “A nice, long massage, Gray. No skimping out.”

“Until my thumbs fall off,” she promises with a teasing grin.

You chuckle and shake your head. “I’m holding you to that, Sheriff.”

Grayson smirks, then tugs you up so she can press her lips to yours. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Professor.”

The two of you handle the practical matters, first. You both use the bathroom and get cleaned up, and then Grayson cleans the dildo while you change the sheets on the bed.

She smiles when she hears you humming in the bedroom –it’s the melody to the song that played when the two of you first danced at your wedding. She stills for a moment, both to appreciate your voice and reminisce about the day, then sets the now clean dildo on the sink countertop to dry and turns to run a bath.

The little, unscented tea light candles, a partially used pack of matches, and the bath oils are on the top shelf of the linen closet, neatly collected in a little, sky blue wicker basket. Once the water’s heated up and the drain plug is in place, Grayson collects the basket from the closet.

She sets up and lights the candles first; she puts them on the sink counter –experience has taught her that setting them on the lip of the bathtub is just a recipe for disaster and taking your then-girlfriend-now-wife to the emergency room for burns–and takes care to make sure the tealights aren’t close to anything flammable. After that, she heads back to the tub and pours in one of your favorites –a lemon and lavender blend. She smiles as the fresh, soothing fragrance hits her nose, then puts the cap back on the bottle before turning to call for you.

You’re not in the bathroom, or in view of it. What’s more, the bedroom’s gone silent, meaning you’re not there, either.

Where… Grayson stands, frowning in her confusion. “Darling?” She steps into the bedroom, brows furrowing deeper when there’s no sign of you. She calls out your name again.

“Just a moment!” you call back, voice slightly muffled by the closed door. Your footsteps thump up the stairwell, and then the bedroom door swings open. You step inside, clad in your robe, and heft two glasses of champagne and a plate of truffles. “I thought we ought to treat ourselves.”

Grayson smiles fondly. “How lavish. Things are about ready in here.” She ushers you into the bathroom, then grabs a squat footstool for you to set the glasses of champagne and the plate of chocolates upon.

You inhale deeply, relishing the scent of the bath oil, then smile. “Wonderful.”

Grayson turns off the tap while you set dessert on the stool top and shimmy out of your robe, stockings, and garter belt. She climbs into the tub, letting out a pleased hiss through her teeth as she sinks into the hot water, then leans back against the basin and watches you put up your hair with an old, battered alligator clip. “I thought you were going to replace that.”

“I keep forgetting to.” You shrug, nonplussed. “Not like it doesn’t still do its job.”

Grayson shrugs, then holds out one arm to steady you as you join her in the tub. She parts her legs so you have a place to sit, then draws her arms around you and holds you against her chest. She lets out a deep, contented sigh, then kisses you. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you so much,” you murmur back against her lips. You kiss her again, languid and loving, then pat her chest. “So. What did you think of my ‘purchase?’”

She snorts, then eyes the dildo where it sits atop the sink counter. “I’d say you got your money’s worth.”

“I knew that, Grayson!” You swat her shoulder lightly, exasperated. “I read reviews before I bought it to make sure I wasn’t getting a lemon. I meant, did you enjoy it? Did you like the experience?”

“It was fun,” Grayson allows –mostly so she can savor the adorable, consternated expression on your face a few moments longer. “But I don’t exactly need a plethora of fancy toys to enjoy having sex with my wife.” She smirks when you let out another sputtering huff, then rubs her thumb over your knee. “What, love? What’s got you so flustered?”

“Well, if you hated it–”

“I have never had a night of sex with you that I’ve hated,” Grayson interjects, soothing you. “Or a morning, for that matter.”

You smirk, eyes alight with mirth. “Mid-afternoon?”

“Not a one,” she murmurs as she leans in to kiss along your jaw. “There’s been nothing less than ‘incredible’ with you, my darling.”

You hum and lean into her kisses –then let out a grunt of disagreement. “That one time I ate too many mini fruit tarts at brunch with your parents, then threw up on the bed once we made it back home and had the place to ourselves?”

Grayson grimaces as the memory pops into her mind’s eye. “That was… decidedly less than pleasant.” She grins when you laugh, then strokes her thumb along the swell of your cheekbone. “But I daresay that had nothing to do with the actual sex.”

“Fair enough.” You study her face for a moment, then say, “But…”

“I liked it,” Grayson assures you, laughing softly at the almost ridiculous earnesty of your concern. “If I didn’t, I would have told you in the moment.” She tugs you back against her chest, nestling you against her. “No, it was fine. Not something I’d want to do all the time…”

“No, no,” you agree when her voice trails off. You tilt your head back and waggle your eyebrows at her. “But… something fun for every now and then.”

“Precisely.” She grins down at you, then kisses you. “You don’t need to worry, love.”

“Beg to differ,” you fire back, voice nonchalant. “And before we start going ‘round in circles on this, will you hand me one of those champagne glasses?”

Grayson lifts one arm from the steamy water, lets the excess water drip off for a few seconds then picks up a glass and hands it to you. “Your champagne, my lady.”

“Why, thank you, madame.” You wait until she has her glass, then hold yours up for a toast. “To fantastic sex.”

She tips her head back and laughs, then clinks her glass against yours. “To fantastic sex.”

You take a generous sip of champagne, then swallow and clear your throat. “Gray… about what I said earlier…”

Grayson frowns; your voice has dropped in that way that means you’re worried over something –or, at the very least, that it’s weighing heavily upon your mind. She sets her glass back on the stool top, then places her hands against your back (a gesture, she’s learned over the years, that comforts you). “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You shake your head. “No, I just… I wanted to make sure that you know… however long you want to keep working is fine with me. I’ll always support you.”

“Well, thank you…” She frowns for a moment longer as she casts around in her mind to figure out just where this is all coming from –oh, at dinner. The comment about the council. “No, I knew you were teasing earlier, dear –but your support is very much appreciated.” She lifts your hand to kiss your knuckles –and then it’s her turn to be concerned. “But, if you ever feel that my job’s taking priority over you, or us–”

You shake your head. “No, Gray. I’ve never felt like that.” You pause for a moment, then chuckle. “We both knew we were a couple of workaholics when we got married.” You grin when she laughs in agreement –then lean over and pick up one of the truffles from the plate. You hold it up to her lips with a loving smile. “For you.”

She grins, then lets you pop the chocolate into her mouth.

[motleyfam]

I posted 2,267 times in 2022

36 posts created (2%)

2,231 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@desperatecheesecubes

@mooitstimdrake

@batshit-birds

@sohotthateveryonedied

@sun-moon-stars-jedi

I tagged 454 of my posts in 2022

#the batman - 25 posts

#fave - 18 posts

#batfam - 9 posts

#atla - 9 posts

#bruce wayne - 8 posts

#dick grayson - 7 posts

#damian wayne - 6 posts

#this sparks joy - 6 posts

#amen - 6 posts

#tim drake - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#thinking of that ‘superman wrecking a whole ass train to save a child on the tracks who he could have just swooped away from danger’ post

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

hey! so its 4am and ive just finished my, um... fifth(?) reread of world's saddest breakfast club and like! aaahhhh!!!

do u got abything to tell us abt this story? like sbt the writing proccess or things u thought that did not make it in or hc or anything really. i dont have a question exactly, just wanted to hear you talk about it. im a bit. well. obssesed.

Oooh cool question! I definitely do!

World's Saddest Breakfast Club: Fun Facts

The opening line is a result of me angsting to @batmoniker about how I couldn't figure out how to start my fic, and her jokingly being like "I got you, bro. Ready? 'It was a dark and stormy night'" and then me just being stubborn and committing to the bit.

The story started with a vague idea of "everyone in the kitchen at 3am for different reasons and Jason channeling his inner short order cook." All I knew going in was the order I wanted people to appear, what was wrong with them (sick, hurt, insomnia, etc) and what food Jason would be making for them. Everything else I made up as I went.

If I could go back and change one thing about this fic, I'd reduce how long Jason was kidnapped to like, 6-8 days, max. 16 days seemed funny when I wrote it, but in hindsight, I feel like he'd be a little more fucked up in the story if he were really escaping from that many days of captivity lmao

I headcanon Dick as the kind of person who straight-up forgets to eat when he's preoccupied, and Jason as the kind of person who cannot FATHOM this concept. Jason absolutely will miss a meal if the situation calls for it, don't get me wrong, but he's aware the entire time he's doing it and it makes him super antsy. (This once turned into A Thing™ when Jason was like, 13 years old and staying with Dick for the weekend for some brotherly bonding and Dick forgot about lunch and by 5pm, Jason maybe sorta kinda had a minor panic attack about it. Dick was a lot more mindful of that moving forward)

Bruce's favorite food being lobster thermidor is a reference to the Lego Batman movie

I wrote this whole fic with Julia Child's recipe pulled up in one tab and my google doc in the other

At some point I realized that since I started with fresh lobsters, I was going to have to write Jason killing them, and it derailed me so hard that the fic nearly became about meatloaf instead. (Never mind the fact that Jason canonically kills human beings — that's totally fine. I just draw the line at him killing lobsters 😰)

(in the end I just kinda glossed over it and made sure they were already cooked before Damian appeared so I wouldn't have to address it 😬)

Dick's reoccurring shoulder injury is a reference to the DCAU where I swear that man has dislocated his shoulder/injured his arm at least 4x

The line about Tim being allergic/throwing up when he eats eggs was inspired by a line in chap 11 of @goldkirk's fic Hymn, which I've reread about 37x

Jason is correct— grits are fucking delicious and definitely not baby food.

My favorite line is "Okay there’s self-sacrificial bullshit, and then there’s whatever the fresh hell that is."

The idea for Cass being a big meat-eater comes from a comic panel where Steph offers her a plate of rice and beans and Cass says needs meat and starts mischievously eying Steph's hamster. Can't find the panel to save my life, but I promise it's out there.

EDIT: finally found it!

Steph's nickname of "Zombie Boy" for Jason is borrowed from @audreycritter's Cor Et Cerebrum series (which is a fucking masterpiece, btw)

This fic was gonna be called "Creatures of the Night" until batmoniker said Steph's line made for a better title

Several people have asked me whether Jason was really cooking Bruce's lobster to spite him, or if he was actually intending to make it for him all along. The answer is... both? Like Jason's kind of an unreliable narrator in that he's trying to convince himself that he's just doing what he's doing to be a little shithead when deep down it's all stemming from his need to take care of his family, you know? Like he'll never admit it, but that's where his heart is at.

To everyone who's asked for a part 2 where the family finds out Jason was kidnapped, I'm gonna be honest: the main reason I don't think I'm ever going to write that scene is because I can't come up with a good enough joke for him to make to accidentally out himself ☠️

90 notes - Posted September 18, 2022

#4

Imagine Bruce starting therapy and learning about all these cool new tricks and gadgets that can help with emotional regulation and getting super invested (because I mean, c’mon, the dude’s like the king of gadget hoarding, he’s got a utility belt for goodness sake)

Then imagine the learning curve of him realizing that just because something works great for one of his kids, doesn’t mean it works for all of them, as illustrated by this memorable incident:

Jason gets really upset and starts having a minor panic attack about something

Bruce, proud owner of 14 new weighted blankets (in various styles, weights, and sizes), tries to wrap his adult son up in one to ground him

After all, Bruce himself finds them super comforting because it’s basically a socially acceptable alternative to wearing a massive Kevlar cape 24/7 like he’d do if he could

(Tim loves them too, so like, kid tested, parent approved™️)

Ends up totally backfiring when the added weight & restricted movement sends Jason into a full-blown flashback of digging out of his own grave, taking this panic attack from like a 4 to a 10

Whoops

130 notes - Posted December 6, 2022

#3

Sometimes I get really hung up on trying to make all the logistics and time frame work out in my fanfics

Then I see how the professionals handle this dilemma:

211 notes - Posted March 12, 2022

#2

I have a headcanon that Dick doesn’t actually like cereal nearly as much as he pretends to.

He just knew that Bruce felt bad about his own cooking ineptitude in the early days after taking his new ward in, so whenever Alfred had the night off, the 9-year-old insisted cereal was his ‘favorite food on the planet’ because it was something that Bruce could actually handle preparing for him without setting off the smoke alarms and it made him happy to do it

372 notes - Posted April 9, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Tim hardly ever wears seatbelts.

It’s not a conscious choice at this point really, he just never got into the habit. When he outgrew his last car seat at age five, his parents didn’t bother getting him a booster and just let him sit in the normal seat, so the belt always felt like it was cutting into his neck and he hated it. He put up a big fuss about it once on the way to some important event, and his parents just huffed, “Fine, don’t wear it then. Fly out the window for all I care” and that was that. They never forced him again.

He just so rarely has to wear one that it slips his mind. Buses don’t have seatbelts. Motorcycles don’t have seatbelts. The Batmobile has them, but they’re rarely used due to the necessity for split-second drop ins and getaways.

It’s not until he’s 17 and driving with Jason somewhere that he finally gets called out on it. Not only called out, but told in a no nonsense sort of way “This car ain’t moving till I hear a fucking click. What, did they stop showing ‘Red Asphalt’ in drivers ed while I was dead??”

(They do still show it. Tim just slept through that class)

557 notes - Posted November 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[odetojeons]

Until It Feels Like You’re In Heaven — Jeon Wonwoo

request:  Hello do you still take requests? Your writing is amazingggg!! Thank you for existing 😭💕. Can i req a whipped dom!wonwoo x fem reader where he has a size kink and a smol gf please? I think that will be a cute concept 🥺

tags: fem and sub!reader, dom!wonwoo, size kink, tattoed and pierced jeon wonwoo just because, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (uh idk why but I never write sex with a condom help), established wonwoo x reader, a tiiiny bit of spitting kink, very light verbal humiliation, aftercare, this goes from fluff to horny really quickly, fluff if you squint (or not?), a frankly unrealistic amount of cum, OH AND, stomach bulge 🥴

a/n: so haha I am back? with more filth? I tried adding fluff (even tho I completely forgot that the person who made the request asked for whipped wonwoo, good thing this is always in my agenda every time I write so I didn't have any problems lmfao) but I'm too much of a horny bitch and a simp for this man so,, idk? tell me what you think later! I hope you all perish— I mean, like this!

Word Count: 7826

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ “Aren’t you going to help?” you question, lifting a brow at your boyfriend, who’s currently sitting in one of the chairs and supporting his chin with the palm of his hand, plate of onions that should be already cut laying untouched in front of him.

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“Nope,” Wonwoo answers, giving you that kind of smile which makes you almost, almost feel less annoyed at the fact that you’ve been trying to reach something in the upper shelves for the last five minutes and he doesn’t move his ass to help you at all. “You’re just too cute trying to reach something.”

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There’s heat creeping up your neck, cheeks tinting red, and Wonwoo's smile gets bigger, shining and full of fondness. It leaves you stunned in silence for a while. It’s hard not to be in love with him. But it’s not like you try anyways.

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“J-just hurry up, aren’t you hungry?” you cough, looking away solely because you can’t stand the warmness in Wonwoo’s face without feeling like you’re going to combust any time soon.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I am. I can help you out,” he states simply, but doesn’t make a move. You gesticulate with your hand, pointing at him and at the rice jar in the upper shelf. “But only if you say please, though.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’m—” laughing incredulously, you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “Would you please get the rice jar for me, sir?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ 

Wonwoo stares at you for a second too long, eyes a bit dark, and gets up to get the jar, without breaking eye contact. You instinctively make yourself smaller when his bigger and broader frame hovers over you, large enough to swallow your tiny body. The size difference has always been something you both feel incredibly turned on by.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So small,” he appreciates, always does, and your neck burns from the intensity of your blushing. “The cutest.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo puts the rice jar in your hands, the darkness in his face melting into a beam.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Here it goes, little girl,” he says, going back to his chair to complete the task which he has been doing for at least ten minutes now. The way he says little girl has you dumbfounded, heart hammering against your chest. “Are you just going to stand there? Do you like being called little that much?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shut up,” you admonish, blushing furiously as you turn on your back to continue what you were doing.  You just hate how everything Wonwoo does affects you so much. You’re sure this must be bad for your health.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The two of you continue your journey through cooking and eating after you’re both done with the preparations. Things with Wonwoo are always so easy, everything feels natural and domestic and the bubbling feeling of happiness you feel whenever you’re with him lulls you to fall in love with him even deeper than before.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The way he teases you when you’re clumsy and spill sauce over yourself, but still cleans you up with the most fond smile ever, like you’re so completely adorable he can’t help himself. Or when you put more salt in the food than you should and you know it’s not that good, but he still compliments it and tells you he loves it so much, the sincerity in his eyes makes a surge of something pull at your lower stomach.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

If Jeon Wonwoo isn’t the love of your life, you don’t know who is.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

 ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But right now you just want the ground to eat you alive and swallow you whole, because you’re standing right in front of the bed. The one bed. To which it suddenly doesn’t look big enough, not as you remember.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ⠀

Well, it’s not like you have never shared a bed before, you have even had a shit ton of sex in this exact piece of mattress, but the thing is, it’s been a while since you last saw Wonwoo. His job required him to spend three months away, and this is the first time you came to his house ever since he came back two days ago.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You consider throwing yourself out of the window and into the dark, miserable night, thinks your poor heart will explode otherwise.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ⠀

“I’m not going to eat you.” Wonwoo’s voice carries over from the bathroom door, startling you into action. You jerk toward the bed, jumping on it and face flushing. You had showered before him, now dressed with one of his big shirts.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It fell all the way to your mid thigh, the size difference between the two of you making you almost drown on the fabric of his clothes. It smells nice, smells like Wonwoo, and your cheeks burn when he drinks the sight of you in with dark eyes, not even trying to hide.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Unless you want me to,” he adds, not helping your situation at all.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  

BSHANDJAJSND?, your brain supplies.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Oh my god,” you admonish, yanking the blanket off the bed and just as you get in, your eyes hone in on the ink swirling up Wonwoo’s right biceps. You have seen the tattoo through the pictures he sent you before, the snake crawling up to his shoulder, head stopping at his right chest.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

This is, however, the first time you’ve seen the metal bar through one of Wonwoo’s nipples — to which you already knew the existence of, but looking in person is totally different —, heat winding in the pit of your belly as you realize the snake is looking right at that same nipple. Unfortunately for your poor heart, he’s wearing nothing but a pair of sweats, hanging low on his hips, slim waist on display.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo is… hot.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s no other way to put it despite your best efforts. He looks like one of those Greek statues, rippling muscle and hand carved abs, the cut of his jaw too sharp to be real. Your mouth waters and you can’t look away.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And Wonwoo has been changing. He always had the thin type of body, being slim and tall, but in the end of last year he started exchanging the lazy hours he spent gaming with animated workouts at the gym — something about the way he was wasting his precious time of life and he could be acquiring knowledge and being healthy instead of sitting in front of a computer for hours —, and holy fuck if the result wasn’t quite the damn view.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You draw the blanket right up to your chin, back very purposefully to Wonwoo’s side of the bed as you’re still trying to stop the mild heart attack you have going on. You don’t want to see him climbing into bed for safety purposes but that doesn’t mean your heart rate doesn’t spike up when the bed dips. When Wonwoo settles down under the same blanket, your brain very enthusiastically — and meaningfully — points out that you’re only a few centimeters away and that there’s nothing separating you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

His abs flash behind your eyes and you nearly throw the blanket off, ready to storm out of the room and sleep on the sofa instead. You let out a breath you don’t even know you’re holding when Wonwoo flicks the flight off, the room disappearing into darkness, before he turns on the red leds from under his bed.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You feel warm all over with the fact that he still remembers you don’t like sleeping in complete darkness.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ⠀

You try not to tense too much when he drapes an arm around your waist, locking you in. Your legs tangle together as he adjusts himself better, the other arm coming behind your head to serve as a pillow. Now you’re not only dying from the closeness but as well essentially drooling over the bulge of his thick biceps.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Congratulations universe for managing to make you even more desperate.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You’re not sure how long you just lie there, staring out the window, unable to fall asleep. Your brain doesn’t want to shut off, a blaring alarm of Jeon Wonwoo going off in your head.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I missed you so much,” Wonwoo says as if he read your thoughts, voice soft and filled with warmth, and you find yourself immediately melting in his arms despite your nervousness. “Thought I was going crazy without you, munchkin.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s a hard squeeze in your heart. You just love so much when he calls you that.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Missed you too,” you admit with a smile, the tip of Wonwoo’s nose dragging through your hair as he inhales the smell of his own shampoo. “Missed your smell.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Just my smell?” Wonwoo teases with a light tone, caressing his free hand on your inner thigh. It was supposed to be a feather-like gesture, but the closeness between the two of you made your body oversensitive, and you find yourself moaning softly as your skin rocks with a shiver.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo tenses immediately when he hears the sound, hand stuttering to a stop. There’s a beat of what you call the most painful silence you ever had — your mind swirls with the thought that you just ruined the mood, face heating up uncontrollably at your own neediness —, before his fingers sink into the flesh of your inner thigh, startling you with the strength behind his grip.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Answer me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ⠀

You whine louder this time, the realization of his change of tone going from fond to an irrevocable order sinking wanton deep within your lower stomach. You try to close your legs, but Wonwoo’s leg stops you where it rests right in the middle of them, dangerously close to your throbbing core. You wonder if he could feel the heat emanating from it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“N-no,” you begin, voice already shaken up. Wonwoo’s breath caresses the helix of your ear, making goosebumps surge all over your skin. “Missed y-your bed too.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Is that so?” he hums, chest vibrating where it presses against your back. “What else, munchkin?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Missed—” your voice gets caught up in your throat when he licks your helix, teeth pulling the lobe of your ear. The soft drag of his lips all over that place is making your job difficult. “M-missed all of you, hmmm.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo hums again, pleased with your answer, and leans so close to you your body gets half pinned to the bed. This way his bigger frame completely engulfs your smaller one, the difference between your sizes getting even more overwhelming now that he’s bulked up.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And you’re not the only one affected by it, because as soon as Wonwoo realizes how he almost swallows you up in this position, he downright moans right by your ear.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So fucking small,” he tells you appreciatevely, voice one octave lower as his fingers presses on your inner thigh harder. “Missed touching you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s a shift in Wonwoo, his leg rising up between yours and stopping centimeters away from the heat of your cunt, and you can’t hold back the shiver, wants Wonwoo to press down there. When you attempt to slide Wonwoo’s hand up and off of you so then you could turn around, you’re met with a growl instead, Wonwoo bodily pinning you to the bed.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, and it makes you feel like you’re a prey just ready to be caught by the big, bad wolf. You whine softly at that thought, hand coming to grab at Wonwoo’s wrist reflexively.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” is your answer, like that would explain everything. Wonwoo chuckles softly, embarrassment burning on your cheeks.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“When we called and I saw your face,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I wanted to fuck you so bad.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Suddenly, you can’t remember how to breathe, Wonwoo’s mouth on your neck, planting a soft kiss just under your ear. He nuzzles into the same spot, kisses lower and your heart shakes loud enough you think the neighbors might hear, hyperaware of every inch of your bodies touching.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I know I couldn’t, so I did it all from behind,” Wonwoo admits, sending your mind into a little haze. Of course he has been jerking off to the thought of you, but hearing him say it out loud has your panties getting soaked. “Sticking my dick in…”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo hasn’t stopped nuzzling you, in some kind of daze as he inhales your scent. There’s a hand on your hip now, holding you down, liquid heat pooling in your belly, spreading outward.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“…and fucking you mercilessly…” he continues, voice getting deeper and rougher with each word, his breath labored. “…and watching you cum endlessly… I thought I would be fine just imagining it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“W-Won—” you start, breathless, the sound of your own voice sounding so airy leaving you embarrassed. But then finally, finally he presses his thigh into your core, your hips immediately going down to rut hard against the muscle.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fucking drenched,” Wonwoo snarls lowly when he feels the wetness of your soaked panties dirtying the fabric of his sweatpants.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The sound makes you writhe on the bed, fists balling in the mattress.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“But seeing you, so small…” the trace of Wonwoo’s hand in your skin is light, almost like a gentle whisper as it makes a burning path up, up, up until it stops by your neck, fingers closing softly around your throat. “Makes me want to rail you, carve the shape of my big cock inside your walls.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s teeth sink into the skin just at the base of your neck. It’s hardly a bite, you know he could leave worse, but then Wonwoo laps at it afterwards, tender, surrenders you into moving your hips obscenely on his thigh. The way he says, knows his cock is big has heat licking your insides, and if it were anyone else saying the same thing you would be cringed, but there’s just something special about Jeon Wonwoo doing this that makes him look like the hottest man alive.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re addicting,” Wonwoo admits with a growl, the feeling of his touch turning possessive as he helps you ride his thigh better by a hand on your waist. “Once I get a taste I can’t stop myself from wanting more. Wanna have my way with you until you’re all mine.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Need seeps through your bones, body trembling as you try to scatter the air it has been knocked out of your lungs when Wonwoo fits his cock in the curve of your ass.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-you’re hard,” you comment, as if it’s not obvious, but it has been so long since the last time you felt his bulge pressing against you that it makes you desperate. “You’re so hard.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Who’s fault do you think it is?” Wonwoo questions, groaning when you sway your hips from side to side on his cock.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Can we…” you trail off, hiding your face in the pillow. “Y-you know?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Nope, you gotta be more specific,” he says with a teasing smile, and you smack him in the arm. Wonwoo laughs before his voice gets serious. “Say it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

This switch of him turning on and off between a sweet boyfriend to the man who doms you never fails to give you a whiplash.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Can we— Can w-we fuck?” you ask shyly, wanting the ground to swallow you whole. You have no idea why you are being this shy.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hmm, it depends,” Wonwoo hums like he’s considering the options. You turn to look at him, mortified, but he only laughs at your indignation. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You blush furiously at the question, face turning to look away as you mumble a yes, but then Wonwoo’s grabbing at your jaw and yanking your head back in place until you’re staring right in the deepness of his eyes, the intensity of them stunting you into complete silence.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he orders, leaving no room for arguments, and you nod your head quickly at that. “Out loud.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-yes,” you hurry to obey, watching satisfaction curl all over his face. “‘M always a good girl.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I don’t think so, munchkin,” Wonwoo grins, wicked and teasing, and you brace yourself for whatever is going to happen this night. “Sometimes you’re so desperate and impatient you can’t even wait for me before fucking yourself with those plastic toys of yours.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” and you’re unable to look away even when shame burns all over your body. “H-how did you—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“How did I know?” your sentence morphs into a moan when Wonwoo presses his thigh so hard against you cunt it has your body jumping a little. “You think I wouldn’t feel how you’re more loose when I fucked you? You think I don’t notice the way you look at me?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo is mercilessly dragging your hips up and down his leg, your whines sounding high and sweet in your own ears.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re oblivious even to yourself,” he tells you, tone rough as he ruts against your ass. Your heart lurches in your chest, Wonwoo’s words like a hot coal in the pit of your belly, erupting into flames. You want to squeeze your eyes shut, cunt pulsing with arousal. “Even today, the way you were staring at me…”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But then, Wonwoo’s touch is gone. His hands leave your hips, thigh frees you from the pressure, and the warmth seems so far now. You turn, complaint already at the tip of your tongue, but Wonwoo’s faster, rougher as he manhandles you on your back and hovers over your body, caging you in with his arms.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You looked like a prey who has just been caught into the wolf’s den,” he smiles at you, wicked and cruel as he grabs your jaw and pushes your head back. “Like you wanted me to break you in until it feels like you’re in heaven.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s a breath against your bare neck, his groan hitting your skin when he bites it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Or eat you up until there’s nothing left in you that doesn’t belong to me,” you’re definitely not expecting the moan that escapes Wonwoo’s mouth, so affected and deep it’s got all the hairs in your nape standing up, every fiber of your body telling you to submit. “Fuck, and it turns me on so much.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You make a sound out of neediness, hands reaching for Wonwoo. He goes easily, body pressing into yours as he crashes your lips together. Wonwoo kisses you like he wants to conquer you, licking into the seam of your mouth and teeth scraping at your bottom lip just so he could soothe the pain later with his tongue. Your head spins with the intensity of it, it’s messy and there’s too much spit and teeth, but that only makes it even more addicting.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But Wonwoo doesn’t kiss you enough today. He almost never does when he’s feeling like that — possessive, mean, wicked even, when he needs you to know your damn place —, wants to ebb the pleasure away when you’re starting to get hotter until it’s replaced by pure desperation and you can’t do anything else other than beg for him to give in to you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

So that’s what you do, staring up at his eyes trained on you as if you’re a prey.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Please,” you start, voice caught into a moan when Wonwoo’s fingers sink into your jaw and his mouth falls ajar, like the sound of you saying this particular word gives a physical stroke to his cock. “P-please, fuck me. Wanna— Wanna belong t-to you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And that’s enough. That’s enough, that’s enough, Wonwoo wants, you want, and he’ll give that to you since he has always been a weak man for your begging. There’s a fraction of seconds that he thinks he might pass out with all the blood rushing from his head to his other head, cock throbbing in his sweatpants.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Don’t know how so much eagerness fits into this little body of yours,” Wonwoo murmurs against your mouth, his hand squeezing your face. You find yourself parting your mouth open, whining, pliant and overwhelmed as Wonwoo slips his tongue in again, kissing you filthy. The scent of his familiar cologne is so sharp, surrounding you and leaving your mind dazed until all you can think is Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo. When he pulls back this time, Wonwoo pushes his thumb into your mouth, eyes half-lidded as he watches you swirl your tongue around it, sucking it further into your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan around it, watching Wonwoo’s every reaction, the way his breath hitches, shoulders tensing. There’s a shift on the bed, Wonwoo moving up and up and up and you can’t breathe because now the bulge pressing against the fabric of his clothes is standing proudly right in front of your face, Wonwoo almost straddling your chest. You let the realization that he’s going to fuck your mouth sink deep within your core, and try not to show how deeply affected you are by the idea.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You fail, of course, hips lifting off of the bed and falling down again, biting around the finger inside of your mouth that keeps you from taking a better look in the place you are dying to see.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“That desperate to suck me off, baby?” Wonwoo asks, and you flush, hate how you love the humiliated burn, how it makes you wetter. You’re too embarrassed to throw something back at Wonwoo, gaze dropping to his erect cock the best you can. He pushes your head back up, making you look at him instead. “Do you wanna see it?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I do,” you reply, a little too fast for your own good, and it only serves for Wonwoo to laugh at your neediness. You debate if you’re as red as you think you are, the burn in your cheeks spreading all the way down to your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Wonwoo’s tone is almost condescending, still playful, like he doesn’t think you can even handle the sight of his cock, and you like how it makes your cunt twitch and ache. It’s as if you enjoy the belittlement, enjoy the way Wonwoo wants you to prove yourself.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’m,” you start, swallowing, “I’m ready.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s smile is a touch dark, nearly a sneer, but his hand leaves your mouth to hook a thumb in the waistband of his pants. You nearly drool. He pulls on the fabric until his cock is free, slapping against your left cheek and smearing precum on your face. Your head spins, realising that even this part of Wonwoo’s body seemed to have grown bigger. Maybe it’s your imagination, haven’t actually seen it in real life for the past three months, but the thickness is intimidating.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The best intimidating possible.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your heart thuds in your chest, unable to look away from his cock. There’s spit collecting on your tongue, embarrassment fighting against your desire to please. Leaning forward, you suckle the tip into your mouth, making a pleased sound when you taste the salty tang of precum.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo leans back a bit, wanting to assess your face better, and the taut lines of his body contorts in an even hotter way with the new position. You moan again, staring at the piercing in Wonwoo’s nipple and the head of the inked snake looking at it, and sucks on the head, tongue pushing along the underside. Your body throbs with your own heated desire.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You wrap a hand around the base, gut twisting hotly when you realise you can’t even get your fingers all the way around — no matter how many times you notice this, they all make you feel equally needy. And you’re not the only one affected by it, Wonwoo’s hips kicking forward and cock thrusting inside of your mouth, the growl he lets out going straight to your core.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck,” he says, breath audible enough to echo inside the room. “I will ruin you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The confession has your body arching for a few seconds, sucking hard on the tip of Wonwoo’s cock until he’s moaning at the feeling. He takes a fistful of your hair, but you push against the hold so you could take more of it into your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Quit it,” Wonwoo demands, your displeased whine making his hold grow firmer. “Do as you’re told or you might not get my cock at all tonight.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He pulls you off, your pants loud and labored.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did I make myself clear?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yes, sir,” you add just for the teasing — but mostly because you want Wonwoo to punish you for making him lose his beloved control —, feeling pleased as you watch the clear change of expressions going on in Wonwoo’s face. His eyes darken impossibly more, eyebrows frowning and then there’s a hand on your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your mouth goes dry as soon as his fingers close around your throat, body writhing and mind going into submission mode.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Filthy little slut,” Wonwoo snarls, face suddenly close, and then he’s spitting into your open mouth and you feel like you will come very soon. You flinch, eyes shutting on reflex, and then moan. “Want me to punish you, don’t you?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You don’t say anything, can’t say anything, but you hope the look in your eyes answers his question. It probably does, because there’s a tiny little smirk playing on the edge of Wonwoo’s lips before he kisses you, softer than you could ever imagine he would be in this moment.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I love you,” he breathes, the sudden confession making a different kind of burn itch your throat. You know very well that when Wonwoo tells you that I’m the middle of sex then it’s because this will be a passionate fucking. One of those that he keeps your body so close you think you might become one with him, one of those he kisses you so gently one moment only to treat you roughly in the other, one of those he wants to make you fall apart, crumble and cry and even so, it will be full of love and care and sweetness. “I love you so much.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo doesn’t wait for your answer. Doesn’t need to, he knows your heart belongs to him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Say ah for me, sweetheart,” Wonwoo instructs and you obey, mouth hanging open, tongue out. Wonwoo slaps his cock against it, precum dirtying your tongue as the slap slap slap of his cock hitting your mouth fills the heavy air of the room. He even traces the tip over your upper lip, smearing precum along your cheek when he slaps your face with it before placing his cock right back on your waiting tongue. “Put this mouth to better use.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You do, eager to do as you’re told after Wonwoo’s confession, blood singing from his praise and his disparagement alike. You sink down onto it as far as you can take it, nearly gagging when it hits the back of your throat. Wonwoo drowns out a broken “fuck” above you, stroking your cheek and moving further in the bed to lessen the awkward twist of your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth,” Wonwoo breathes, voice strained as you suck him off, head bobbing. He brushes your hair back, little groans and growls escaping him every time his cock hits the back of your throat, you swallowing around it, or when you speed up, fucking your mouth on Wonwoo’s length. “Such a pretty little cocksucker, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You blush, heart hammering in your chest with the compliment, but he closes a fist in your hair and makes you stop all movements.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Gonna fuck your mouth,” Wonwoo starts, holding your wrist with his free hand and putting your fingers above his thigh. You know that it means if you want me to stop, tap twice, and it makes heat coil in your belly. “until you gag.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan a bit uncontrollably around his cock, legs kicking in the bed at the affirmation, and Wonwoo is staring at you with a look you can’t quite describe. It makes you ashamed of being so eager but at the same time proud of being his little cockslut.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo holds you in place, hips bucking into your mouth. He goes slow at first, wanting you to get used with the feeling because it has been a while since the last time you sucked him off. It is short lived, as soon as you look up at him and nod — the best you could with your movements being kind of restricted —, his thrusts turn sharp and fast, your jaw aching from how long you had Wonwoo’s fat cock in your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan, one of your hands still working up and down along Wonwoo’s shaft as he fucks into you, tears beginning to prickle at the corners of your eyes. He falls a bit forward when you start gagging a little, throat convulsing around his thickness, and he sprawls his fingers in the wall for support.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck fuck fuck, shit,” Wonwoo breathes, voice gravelly, his grip in your hair getting tighter and tighter. Tingles spark down your spine, wetness pouring out of you and soaking your panties even more and you want so desperately to come, to be fucked, but you want to please him first.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s thrusts begin to turn erratic as he fucks your mouth, a growl erupting out of him on a particularly hard thrust, and then he’s pulling away. You look at him, mind in a haze, but still dumbfounded. His breath is labored and he looks like he’s having a hard time keeping together, hips thrusting into the air. It boosts your ego to see him this messed up because of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did so well for me, sweetheart,” Wonwoo tells you, voice strained from effort but still full of fondness, and you feel butterflies dancing in your stomach at the praise. It seems like he wants his orgasm to ebb away. At the look you’re giving him, he adds: “Wanna cum with you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You mewl at the thought, watching him position himself between your legs again and kissing you slowly. Wonwoo caresses your cheek with a gentle thumb, other hand tracing a feather-like path down your body. His fingers brush against your nipple, the whine you let out being swallowed by Wonwoo’s greedy mouth, and he sneaks his hand under your shirt just as his kisses fly to your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And then Wonwoo’s sucking. Hard.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It caughts you off guard, hips lifting off of the bed and thigh pressing tightly against Wonwoo’s cock, his groan being muffled by your skin. He bites, suckles and kisses the particular spot underneath your jaw, so far up your neck you won’t be able to hide it, especially because it’s summer. And you feel warm all over, how he always remembers exactly your pleasure point, the place that has your head spinning with pleasure.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your hands fly to his hair, cunt throbbing with need when he tongues at the purple hickey, and it’s throbbing, pulsating with how hard he sucked. It leaves you breathless, not having time to recover when Wonwoo pulls your shirt up until he can get one nipple into his mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwon, fuck,” you whimper, body oversensitive with all that has been going on, and Wonwoo growls at the nickname, hand coming to pinch your other nipple like he’s telling you how much this affects him. “Please—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo bites at it, tongue coming to soothe the pain later, and you’re sure the grip you have on his hair must be painful, but he says nothing; only looks more intent on making you moan. Wonwoo busies himself with sucking hickeys all over the place as one of his hands continues to descend down your body, thumb pressing in a spot by your hips that has your back arching and a desperate whine being pulled out of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Down and down, his fingers then slips inside your penties, brushing across your clit so lightly that it has your whole body rocking with shivers.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But then, Wonwoo’s body goes completely still. You feel him tensing under your palms, heat already flooding your face when you know he feels it, feels the way you’re already stretched open for him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You—” he starts but stops himself, pushing a finger inside for great measure. Wonwoo growls when he meets almost no resistance, face lifting from where it rests on your chest to look at you. “When?”

⠀ ��� ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The intensity of his voice leaves your mouth dry.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“E-earlier, in the— in the s-shower,” you confess, voice quiet, and you can’t look away, Wonwoo’s eyes pinning you to your spot.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hah,” he states simply, a sound of pleasant surprise, and adds another finger inside. Wonwoo pushes them to the hilt, until his knuckles brush your pelvis. You moan, head thrown back at the sudden, but welcomed intrusion. “Acting all nervous around me but this is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He gyrates his hand, pushing hard and without mercy, right before he adds another finger, this time more slowly. It burns a little, his fingers way bigger than yours, but you love the slight pain.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did you come into my house knowing I would fuck you?” Wonwoo asks, knows the answers but does it anyway. He moves his hand a little, waiting for your to be more comfortable with the sensation of his fingers, but as soon as your frown turns upside down, Wonwoo has no restrains whatsoever, fucking into you fast and sharp. “Fingered yourself knowing that I would split you open on my big cock?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You can’t even think straight, hips rising off of the bed, but Wonwoo holds your waist with his free hand and pins them down hard. Your upper body lifts with this, back arching and legs kicking everywhere as you can’t stop the loud moans slipping through your lips, doesn’t even care about the neighbors as your nails sink into Wonwoo’s back to the point it might leave tiny crescent moons all over it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did you come back then?” Wonwoo continues, pace unforgiving even when tears well up into your eyes. He trusts you to use your safeword if needed as much as you trust him to use his. “Did you?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You struggle to answer, voice being surrendered to moans and whines and whimpers and it’s hard to focus when he’s hitting your sweet spot with the tip of his fingers.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Ah! Ah, hmmm, f-fuck, please Won— Wonwon,” you try, can’t even understand how you still manage to get red when you realise Wonwoo is looking at you with so much desire. The point you both most like about your relationship is that Wonwoo is the dom, but he knows you have him in the palm of your tiny hands. “I, ah, d-din’t. Di— Didn’t want to, fuck, please— c-come without you—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo pulls his fingers out at that, your cunt clenching around nothing as he goes lighting fast to take both of your clothes off, grab your waist and flip you on your stomach just as he reaches for the nightstand to grab what you know very well it’s a bottle of lube. He pulls your hips up until you’re face down, ass up on the bed, the hurry in all of this only sending desperation all over your body, and the sound of the cap being opened has butterflies in your stomach.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah? Fuck,” Wonwoo sounds a mess, fingers hurrying to close a fist on his cock and jerk it off furiously to spread the lube better, the wet head nudging against your rim. “Fuck, shit, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Do it,” you beg. “Please.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And who is he to deny what you want?

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo pushes inside you slowly despite his hunger, knows he’s big and there’s an alarming size difference between the both of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your hands clench into fists and it feels like you’re being impaled onto Wonwoo’s cock, going deeper than any cock you ever taken before. Tears cling to your lashes as a small jolt of pain runs up your spine, the lube easing Wonwoo’s way in. Overall you’re proud of yourself, haven taken him before, more times than you can count, and you accommodate his cock like a pro.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your chest heaves, no amount of air feels like enough as Wonwoo’s cock all but punches everything out of you. You’re biting at the pillow by the time the last of it pushes into you, a haze surrounding your mind because it feels so good.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s groan transforms into a moan once he’s buried all the way into you, hips flush against your ass and spreading you open so wide and so deep, you would think you might break if you didn’t know any better. You gasp, back arching downward as you take your time to adjust to the large intrusion.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo kisses your shoulder tenderly, waiting for you to grow used to the feeling. He can be rough when it comes to bed, but he always is mindful of you no matter how impatient and desperate he is. There’s this soft feeling going on inside you, mixing with your pleasure and it only serves to make you more needy.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo doesn’t move for a while, hot breath falling against your neck as he stands behind you. You feel surrounded — his scent everywhere, the pulse of the hickeys he carved on your skin, the press of his long fingers on your waist —, your submission for Wonwoo’s eyes only.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You nod at him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

A lick at your neck is all the warning you get before Wonwoo pulls out so very slowly, cock dragging against your walls and rim. It feels like forever, you whining at the sensation, and then you’re being slammed back into.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Ah!” you gasp, eyes blurry as you struggle for air. You moan as Wonwoo drags himself back out again, and thrusts right back in and groans at the feeling. “Y-yes—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So good,” Wonwoo growls, close to inhumane as he continues with that pace. “So fucking good.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Eventually, Wonwoo doesn’t seem to be able to go slow anymore, thrusts turning sharper and harder, his pace unrelenting. You find yourself almost screaming through it, so overwhelmed by the size of him — a good overwhelmed, the best overwhelmed —, but the way you feel so full and the exponential pleasure leaves you numb to any other thought.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo, your mind seems to chant, fucked open mercilessly by your boyfriend.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Taking cock like a pro, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Wonwoo says, stops for a second, adjusts his hips, and then slams back right into your sweet spot, like he knows where it is by heart. Your body lurches forward, bed slamming against the wall. Hands reaching to hold onto something, you scramble against the sheats until one of them fists it and the other holds the pillow for dear life. “You’re gonna wake the whole hall, screaming like that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You have enough of a decency to feel ashamed about it, but it’s not like neither of you actually care. If anything, Wonwoo fucks you harder, hips jamming inside you until your throat hurts from all the noises you’re making.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Please, p-please— I wanna— I h-have to— Fuck, ah!” you’re not even sure about what you’re begging for, Wonwoo pulling your hips to meet his thrusts half way. You love this, feeling like a ragdoll, being thrown around and only able to take what he gives to you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Good little girl,” Wonwoo croons, his voice rough. Your skin glistens with sweat, the shimmering red light reflecting on it. “Looking so beautiful taking my cock.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You’re not sure what compels you after he says that but you reach down, hand smoothing down your abdomen because you feel like Wonwoo is spearing you open. But you go completely tense, squeezing Wonwoo so hard he stutters with a moan, because under your palm there is the outline of his cock protruding against your lower belly. The feeling makes you so overwhelmed that you can’t hold it in, whithe pleasure flooding you as you end up coming, eyes rolling to the back of your head and you’re crying all the way through it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re coming?” Wonwoo deadpans, sounding surprised and angry at the same time. “Holy shit, you’re coming untouched and without my permission? What were you think—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s complaint immediately dies down when you bring a trembling hand to grab his wrist and put his fingers in the cause of your orgasm. There’s a beat of silence, the both of you completely still, and then Wonwoo is growling the most animalistic growl you ever heard him do, the sheer intensity of it rocking all the way to your bones. He presses his hips so tightly into yours it has you sobbing.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck,” it’s all he says, tone two octaves lower and sounding dangerous, doesn’t even have it in him to punish you. “Fuck.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It’s like the caged beast he keeps so carefully locked deep within himself started to surface. Wonwoo pushes your head down on the mattress, the other hand still on your belly. He pulls out until the tip and then slams back inside, as hard as he can, and you downright scream at the feeling, the oversensitiviness adding up to your pleasure.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s another few seconds of silence, and then Wonwoo is fucking you brutally. His moans echo through the room, so completely desperate that it has you wailing, sobbing, crying desperate pleas for more.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Look at that,” Wonwoo says, hand pressing harder against the bulge in your stomach. “Pushed my big cock into you until your insides were forced to make room for it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He grabs your arm and yanks you up, your back pressing against his chest and an arm circling around your waist. The other comes up to squeeze your left breast as you practically sit on his thighs. You moan at the feeling of his pierced nipple dragging against your skin every time he fucks up into you, your body only held in place because of the firm grip Wonwoo has on you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Sobbing, you feel like you’re losing yourself in the sensations, Wonwoo’s cock pounding into your cunt and his voice by your ear and the burn of his hips hitting your ass — by now it must be all red, the marks probably going to linger for some time. You can’t hold yourself together anymore, mouth open and drooling, tears clinging to your lashes, staccato moans falling from your lips that break on every thrust. You’re limp against Wonwoo, can’t even fuck back, letting him have his way with you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Drooling all over yourself for my cock,” Wonwoo says, fucks in deep against your sweet spot and mouths at the side of your neck. “Because of me, right? Tell me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-you— yours, yours, please,” your head falls back on his shoulder, hand pressing tightly in the shape of his cock in your stomach, and at this point you don’t even know what you’re doing anymore.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’ve broken you in, fuck.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And he did, really. He has broken you in, has you crying on his cock.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You belong to who?” Wonwoo pressed his hips flush on your ass, grinds hard enough for your body to be sent forward. A short few seconds so you can take a breath — or at least try to. “Hm? Who’s fucking you this good?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“W-Wonwoo, Wonwon, you, please,” you cry out as he starts to fuck you mercilessly again, the brutal pace punching moans out of you. “Ah, ah, ah, p-please, haaah, I’m y-yours— yours, b-belong to, hmmm, to you only, please!”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah,” Wonwoo echoes, thrusts turning erratic and groans morphing into moans. “Mine.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I can’t — I’m g-gonna—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Come for me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And it’s enough for you. Your muscles tense, toes curling as hot, white pleasure surges through your body and floods you until you fall limp on the bed, hips only up because Wonwoo is holding them tightly. You clench around his cock involuntarily, his groan muffled by your hair and he’s coming, Wonwoo’s cock twitching inside you as thick spurts of come fill you to the brim. They seem to be endless, his spunk filling you up until it’s dripping out and down your thighs.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You don’t remember much of what happens later. Your mind spins and then you fall into a most needed slumber.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You wake up a bit disoriented, having no idea how much has passed since you fell asleep, but you realise you’re all cleaned up and dressed, head resting in Wonwoo’s — thankfully, for the sake of your precious pussy — clothed chest as he uses his cellphone. He smells clean too, hair still a little bit wet, and you smile thinking that the shower you both took before going to bed was useless.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re up?” comes Wonwoo’s question when he feels your lips moving against him, placing his phone somewhere on the bed and circling his arms around you. You move your head, looking up at him with fondness.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hey, baby,” you breathe out, reaching to peck him in the lips once. He smiles, that kind of smile that leaves you breathless with love.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hey, my love,” Wonwoo laughs when you blush at the pet name. It’s so sweet and endearing, you always feel warm whenever he says it. “I see you still get all red when I call you that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shut up,” you swat at his arm, Wonwoo’s following laugh sounding like the best music you ever heard. “How much did I sleep?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Not much,” he presses you tighter against him. “I think one hour? Something like that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Thanks for taking care of me,” you say, legs tangling with his and the smile never leaving your lips.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Of course, my love. Always will take care of you,” Wonwoo nuzzles your hair and inhales. “Got kind of surprised that I managed to fuck you into unconsciousness.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” you mortify with a laugh, hitting his chest, but he only giggles at you. He giggles. Your heart might explode soon.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“What? Can’t I be happy that I pleasured my tiny girlfriend the way she deserves to?” Wonwoo says, and it sounds like a joke, but when you look up at him again to make a retort, the reverence in his eyes surrenders you speechless.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He stares at you with so much admiration and love, like you’re the most beautiful thing ever.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I love you,” you say instead, cheeks hurting from the way you’re smiling, and Wonwoo seems to be caught off guard because he’s blushing. Wonwoo’s blushing. He’s so cute you want to die.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shut up and go back to sleep,” he coughs, pushing your head against his chest and you laugh at this shyness. “I love you too.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Yes. The warmness of his hands, the beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the love in his eyes, the sweetness of his words — you missed everything about Jeon Wonwoo.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

[allywritesforfun]

hey i really enjoyed your nightly routine post with wilbur? i was wondering if you could do something similar but in the morning instead?

awe my love! I'm glad that you enjoyed the nightly the routine... here is the morning routine!

{Morning Routine} Wilbur Soot x Reader

summary: you and wilbur made a nightly routine video that blew up more than you have thought, so now its time to do a morning routine!

pronouns: not mentioned

word count: 2280

trigger warnings: swearing, mention of a knife for going chop chop, this was too cute for even me to handle and it came from my hands

a/n: my god is this long! I really got carried away. I could've made this into two parts but whatevs

a/n pt 2: takes place after the “Nightly Routines” but not directly connected 

regular masterlist

wilbur masterlist

You deeply groaned as you fluttered your eyes open. This was not a great time to wake up. You really wanted another hour of sleep, but you knew you had work to get done today.

You looked behind you. You smiled at the sight of Wilbur in his sweet slumber, his arm lazily draped over your waist. Wilbur very much loved to be in bed with you. If he could, he would spend all day there, just you in his arms and some soft lofi in the background. 

That was something very rare to get. Being a streamer and musician, Wilbur was busy almost all the time and rarely took a day off. Mornings and nights were dedicated to you. However, there were times that you would stream with him, or stop by the office to give him food, but nothing was compared to waking up with him.

“Oh shit,” You whispered, “We’re supposed to do morning vlog today.”

You looked around for Wilbur’s camera, which was no where to be found. You settled on stretching over to nightstand and unplugging your phone. You looked back at Wilbur to make sure he was still sleeping. You could tell he was by the gentle raise and fall of his chest and subtle “Ah-woo”. You just knew that was the perfect way to start the vlog. You recored him for about ten seconds of him doing his ‘not really a snore but definitely something’ and giggled almost the whole way through.

You would think that after living with him for two months and the multiple sleepovers that you’ve had with him, that you would be used to it by now. But even today you still giggled just like you did when you first woke up with him. 

You snuck yourself out of bed and made your way to the kitchen. Once arrived you did the intro, “Good morning chat! It is currently about 6:30 in the morning, and as you realize, I am the only one awake. As you saw, Wilbur is still sound asleep and that how it is every morning. So we’re going to vlog our morning routine today, which I promise is way more interesting than the nightly routine vlog. So, Wilbur is literally the best person ever and deserves the world. And his world, besides me of course, is his morning coffee. So I’m going to use our Keurig to get his coffee started.” 

You stopped the recording and decided to get some of your creativity out. You weren’t musical like Wilbur and can't draw for shit, so videography was your way of being creative. You set your phone the in the corner and opened up the blind to let a little bit of light through. It still looked basic so you moved your plant to the background, which added the perfect look. You started brewing and hit record. 

While that was going, you measured out the creamer and syrup and grabbed your sippy cup for your chocolate milk. No judgement here. We all know chocolate milk tastes better in sippy cups. 

The brew came to a slow stop and you grabbed the camera, “Wasn't that a satisfactory angle chat? Now, I am more of an iced coffee person, so in the morning I have water or chocolate milk, and today is definitely a chocolate milk day.” You raised your cup to the camera and fake ‘clinked’ it, cutting the recording when it was closest to the camera. You finished up making Wilbur’s coffee and set it on the living room table. 

You looked at the time, 6:50 am, now was a good time to get Wilbur up. You always let his coffee sit out for a little bit, that way he could drink it the second that he woke up. You threw some napkins under your drinks and moved another plant over there. You wanted your place to look aesthetically pleasing, even if it was a little bit staged. You did a transition with your cup, this time now on the table.

“Okay chat, we all now mr. simpbur is a snuggler so we don't have breakfast in the kitchen, instead we share on the couch, that way we can get all of our snuggles in before he has to leave for the office. I have everything set up, normally I would prepare breakfast too, but I feel like cooking with Wilbur this morning. We’ll do this about once a week for some bonding time, so let's go get him up,” You decided to keep recording, just in case Wilbur woke up from your loss of presence. 

You creaked the door open, Wilbur was still asleep. He adjusted his body for that he was hugging a pillow, who you assumed was your replacement. You laid down next to him and just took a moment to admire him. It was moments like this that you forgot that you were internet personalities. This was you. This was Wilbur. Both of you living your life without needing to exaggerate yourself. This was Wilbur at his purest form. He was all relaxed, not even aware that he was being recorded.

You scooted closer to him and intertwined your legs with him. You brushed his bangs with the back of your hands and gently placed your lips on your forehead. He stirred a little bit, but not enough to wake him up. You took the pillow from him and wrapped your body around his, “Wilbur, my love, it's about seven, you need to get up.”

You could tell he woke up by him pulling you closer and burying his head only you neck. You gently massaged his head and twirled his curls between your fingers, “Come on Will, I got your coffee made already. We need to start breakfast.”

He shook his head and kissed your shoulder, “Mine.”

You laughed, “Yes Will, and ‘yours’ is hungry, let’s get up and eat.”

He slowly nodded and pulled you closer, “Mmmm... I love you.”

“I love you too, simpbur.”

He snapped his head up at the nickname and saw the camera, “Fuck-that’s today?”

You giggled and detached yourself from, “Say good morning to chat.”

He shook his head and buried it in his pillow out of embarrassment. You stop recording and put your phone on the stand. Just seeing Wilbur all flustered was enough to make you go back to bed. You laid back down with him and pulled him on top of you.

“We’re gonna have to re-record that part,” Wilbur mentioned.

You rubbed his cheek with your thumb, which he happily leaned into, “No bubs, we gotta keep it in. It was a very cute moment.”

He shook his head aggressively, “No! That was embarrassing!”

“Too bad, it’s on my phone so I get to chose what goes in.”

He huffed and grabbed your hand, accepting defeat, “You said you made my coffee?”

You two got up and sat down on the couch. Wilbur took you into his arms the second he took his first sip, his personal way of saying ‘thank you, you’re the best person to ever exist’. 

“What are you feeling for breakfast?” You asked.

“You,” Wilbur joked, kissing your temple. 

You gently pushed him, “No actually, I really want yogurt, so pick something that goes well with that.”

“Can we just make a fruit plate?”

You excitedly nodded, if it wasn't for Wilbur, you would not be eating healthy. He really made sure that you were going to live as long as he did. Neither of you could live without the other. If something crazy didn't happen to you, you were going to die from a broken heart.

Wilbur grabbed your phone and started recording, “So um, good morning chat, I’ve had some coffee and more awake now. What you just saw- no you fucking didn't. We’re on the sofa right now and we decided on a fruit plate with yogurt this morning, trying to be a little healthier considering we had ice cream at one am last night. So we’re gonna make that off camera, because if you guys get us to six million subs, we’ll do a cooking stream!”

“Oh we are now?” You questioned. “I was never told about this.”

Wilbur laughed and kissed your temple, “Well you know now, that's good enough innit?”

You shook your head and placed your hand over the camera, Wilbur stopped the recording. You go the fruit out while Wilbur prepared the sink for rinsing and knives for chopping. 

You made the plate look all nice and took it back to the couch. Wilbur placed his arm back over you and grabbed the remote with is free hand while you centered your phone.

“Okay chat, we’re gonna eat and watch tv for a bit, then you're gonna get ready with us. Wilbur has a test shoot at the office today, so we gotta make him look all pretty and obviously personal hygiene is a must... so yeah, brb.”

You two set up another game show to watch, it sorta became your go to show. Especially because there was no storyline and you could talk when you wanted. This was a pretty chill morning, you two enjoyed each other's presence. 

When you finished up, Wilbur took the dishes and you went to the bathroom and cleaned up a little bit. You heard Wilbur go into his closet, so you started recording, “Okay chat, last thing we do before he leaves is actually get ready. Wilbur is getting changed right now so I’m gonna brush my hair out. I can get a little aggressive with the snarls and Wilbur always thinks I'm ripping my hair out so I always do it when he's not around to make sure he doesn't get worried.”

You set the phone in the corner and set it up to record a time lapse. You heard off in distance some light pop type of music, so you knew that Wilbur got his speaker out.

“Are you playing copyrighted music?” You called.

“It’s released Lovejoy!”

You smiled, you always got giddy seeing how happy Wilbur was able to make himself with his own music. You set your brush down and started to wet your toothbrush, Wilbur slid into frame, already jamming out to his own music.

You covered your mouth with your hand stifled your laughter. Wilbur laughed with you and tugged on your waist, trying to get you to dance with him. You aggressively shook your head no, you hated dancing. You would think by now that you would be used to Wilbur and his random dance breaks, but you never came around. 

You looked down in shame as Wilbur attempted to get you to spin around. Once you made it clear that you were not in the mood to dance, Wilbur turned down the music and waddle over to the counter.

You grabbed the camera, “If someone wants a very tall British man, you can come get him. Warning: not fun dance outbreaks.”

“Oh come on now, y/n!” Wilbur wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his head on yours, “Stop pretending like you don't like to dance.” “You know I hate dancing,” You reminded him.

“Well chat, apparently I’m not allowed to have any fun in the morning? But anyway, that was a joke, but- we do really have to get ready. Should we do this Disney Channel style?”

You laughed and shook your head, “No, I think I just want to make sure you don't miss your meeting.”

“That’s at nine! We have time! Please let me have fun with you! It’s going to be such a stressful day!” He pouted with the cutest puppy dogs eyes.

There was no way that you could say no to him, “Alright, what fun we having?”

Wilbur said nothing and prepared his toothbrush like yours, “Last one to finish brushing their teeth has to do the dishes tonight.”

You hated dishes. You were winning this one. You didn't even wait for a countdown. You instantly grabbed your toothbrush and turned on the water with lightening speed. 

“What?!” Wilbur yelled. “That’s not fair!”

You did your best to bump him away, but it literally did nothing. Both of you were laughing very hard but Wilbur quickly caught up. You both fought with your hands, trying to cup a decent amount water. You both managed to get the water into your mouth and you turned to face Wilbur, it came down to who could rinse the fastest. You two just stared at each other, wishing the water around. You were dead serious. You were not doing the dishes tonight. Wilbur kept flaunting his hands around trying get himself to go faster, which ended up in him completely breaking out in laughter and spitting all over your face. It took you by surprise and all that you could you do was laugh to yourself, you eventually spit the water out in the sink, raising your hands in victory. 

“I am so sorry, love!” Wilbur took your hand and guided you into his arms, gently running his hand up and down your back, “I didn't think that would be that hilarious.” “It’s okay,” You laughed and looked back in the mirror. You were completely drenched shoulder up, “It was fun. Better to happen to me than you, you look really nice today for the shoot.” “Thank you,” Wilbur blushed and turned you around, “I think that is enough recording for today. All that we have left to do is leave so... thank you for watching! Subscribe now and remember, cooking stream at six mil! Bye guys!”

[astaroth1357]

Brothers React to the MC Looking at Them Lovingly

This is a personal experiment. This is the very first time I've written one of these with a goal in mind, "Make them fall in love all over again." It's a tall order. I hope I succeeded. 🙏 Special thanks to @a-chaotic-dumbass for picking the mood for this one!

Intro:

We all know that look. The one where one person stares at another like they just realized they're the only thing in the universe and they're in fucking awe of it. The kind of look that tells you they're utterly enthralled by that other person and just can't get enough of their presence. That look. Yeah, the brothers just got that look out of the MC.

Let's warm some cold hearts, everybody.

Lucifer

Lucifer was always beautiful. Always has been, as an angel or a demon.

A morning star is one that outshines all the rest. It stands out when the other stars have dimmed, holding onto its luster in defiance of the sun. 

There couldn't be a truer title for Lucifer to have. Not the horrors of war nor the fires of Hell could tarnish his radiance in any way…

But there were moments, like right then, where the MC caught a glimpse of a different sort of Lucifer.

His brothers would often only see the uptight Lucifer, the practiced visage of perfection that he tried so hard to keep up… 

But after a long day, when he thinks he's alone, he retires to his room to listen to his music and the difference is astonishing.

There's something so entrancingly calm about him… How the light of the fireplace flickers and dances across his alabaster skin to the subtle slouch of his posture. His face no longer marred by creases of stress and frustration… 

And his expression is so pure… So tranquil and at peace… Beauty without effort. A shine that can't be ignored. A morning star, in the truest sense of the word…

It took awhile for Lucifer to see the MC leaning against his doorframe.

They were staring at him with the oddest look… Smiling like they were enraptured by something, but he didn't have a clue why. He was just sitting there…

So, naturally, he turned to suspicion.

"Am I really that amusing…?"

Frankly, he wasn’t prepared for the little laugh they let out in response.

"Mm? No, no... I'm just always so amazed by you, is all. I'll leave you to your music..."

Having thoroughly ruined the mood, the MC then turned to leave. But Lucifer was already upon them before they could step away, wrapping his arms around their waist and letting contented hum escape his chest.

"Going so soon…?"

Apparently he appreciated the compliment.

Mammon

He didn't have to do it.

When Belphie bumped into one of the House's vases, shattering it against the tile, he didn’t have to take the fall for it.

It wasn’t connected to him at all. He could have stayed quiet and no one would have pointed a finger at him for once.

But he did.

When Mammon set his phone down on the table, MC knew instantly that he had lied in the chat.

He was with them the entire day, he didn't have the time to accidentally break a vase. He hadn't even gone down that hallway all day...

But he said something anyway.

And he didn't even look fazed. He didn't turn towards them seeking approval nor did he look irritated that Belphie didn't speak up. He didn't curse at himself for doing something so self-sacrificing either...

When Mammon leaned back into the cushion of his couch, the MC saw something truly remarkable on his face… A smile. A small one, sure, but relaxed… 

Assured in his own actions. Confident in his choice and accepting the consequences… undeserved, and likely thankless, they may be.

A genuine, serene smile…

Mammon wasn't sure what he expected to see when he turned to the MC. Probably confusion or disbelief that he, the Great Mammon, could be so selfless.

Definitely not the awed, lovestruck look he got...

"G-gah!" He panicked slightly and pressed himself back against the armrest of the couch in shock. "Wh-... What'cha lookin at me like that for??"

When the MC didn't answer after a few seconds and just kept staring, he honestly didn't know what to do. Were they broken or something??

"Oi, MC! I asked ya wh-Hey wait a minute!!"

He made a noise between a yelp and a shout when the MC leapt forward and latched their arms onto him. What had gotten into them??

"U-uh… MC? MC?? Damnit MC, answer me already!! Or at least stop squeezin so tight!!... MC!!!"

Leviathan 

To anyone else, it was just Levi being Levi.

He had finished a new episode of his latest animated obsession and he had to share it with someone. Anyone would do, but the MC was always willing to lend an ear.

Something about Levi really changes when he talks about his passions… It's like he comes alive in a whole new way.

He speaks at a mile-a-minute, but that's because he's so excited the words fly from his mouth. 

Some part of him is always bouncing, be it his leg or body. Sometimes even his tail will swish and curl behind him like an ecstatic puppy. And his eyes… 

Citrine pools that glimmer and dilate from the exhilaration of it all. It's his little world and anyone can see he's thrilled to be sharing it. 

You'd never know he was shy. You'd never think he'd look down himself. You'd never guess that he hid himself away… Why would someone so full of passion and life ever want to? Some things are just too beautiful to keep hidden...

Levi had only gotten six minutes into his latest rant before he finally registered how the MC was staring at him…

This man has seen enough shoujo to know what that look means and it shut him up sooo quick. If anyone else were in the room they would have seen a beet-red Levi desperately trying to hide his face.

"M-MC…! S-top staring at me like that…!!"

"Like what~?" 

He didn't have to look at them to hear the teasing lilt in their voice.

"MC…" He peeked out from behind his fingers to see them still staring and covered himself up more vigorously. "Stoooop…!!!"

But secretly? He wished they'd never stop. His cheeks may have been red from embarrassment, but his heart was trying to hammer its way out of his chest to hug them itself. Hell, he'd have happily given it over to them if they'd asked…

Please just let those loving eyes be for him and him alone...

Satan

Soft isn't exactly a word anybody would use to describe Satan, least of all himself.

His anger was quick to spark, his strength was nothing to scoff at, and even his smiles were nothing but plastic for nearly all of his existence…

Nearly.

The MC learned surprisingly quick that there was one thing that could bypass all of the hidden ferocity to Satan's personality. Something that could make him melt like butter in the summer sun…

Satan had always looked a little cute when he was reading. He was easily at his most expressive when engrossed in a thrilling story or deeply intrigued by something he found between the pages of a book…

But watching Satan read about cats, as he was right then, was really something else entirely.

Maybe it was the way his emerald eyes would sparkle or the lopsided grin he just couldn't hide as he would scan the pages about the playful habits of Bengals or the relaxed nature of Ragdolls…

Maybe it was the sheer impassioned dedication he took the subject, pouring countless hours into collecting and memorizing every fact he could from their diets to coat maintenance.

Or maybe it was the sheer fact that anytime he saw a picture of kitty in-print he looked like a besotted schoolgirl drawing hearts around her crush in a teen magazine.

Really, who's to say? But to the MC, it was proof that under all that anger, there was a tender, loving center even for the smallest, softest creatures…

Satan automatically snapped his book closed when he saw MC watching him from behind a bookshelves. Caught red-handed…

He knows exactly how he looks when he's doing his research internally squealing over cat pictures so he tries to do so in private...

He was about to sputter out a defensive explanation but then he registered their face…

He'd seen that look described in stories, romance novels mostly, but he'd rarely seen it in action… and never once leveled at him with such intensity…

Not to be cliche, but frankly his heart skipped a beat.

Satan forgot about his book briefly and got up to close the distance between them, tilting their chin up to keep their eyes on him.

"Like something that you see, Kitten?"

"You could say that…"

He laughed at their attempt to play coy, but let it slide just this once… Easy to do with them looking at him so amorously.

Asmodeus 

Asmo is a very popular demon. Someone so free ought to know quite a lot of people, after all.

And, of course, he had plenty of fans. He made DevilTube videos, hosted radio shows, fashion designed, and even modeled.

So it wasn't very surprising when a young demoness stopped him while he and the MC were out shopping. It wasn’t the first time he had been asked to sign autographs, but this meeting… it was different.

It was clear to them both that this girl was shy. Though she held out the paper, her eyes stayed firmly on the ground and she stumbled on her question… She likely a fan from afar, but everything about her seemed meek… unassuming.

Most people would have just gave the autograph then went on with their day. The interaction could have taken five seconds at most… but not Asmo.

He asked her name… where she was from, how she was feeling, her favorite foods, outfits, makeup, you name it. All with investment.

It was amazing to watch the shy young woman slowly open up, getting more bright and cheerful with each passing question until it evolved into a healthy conversation.

When their little meeting finally wrapped up, he gave her back the paper (now signed) but also fished out a bottle of perfume from among the mountains of bags he was carrying. He gave it to her and wouldn't hear anything to the contrary, he could always buy another.

None of his brothers ever gave Asmo enough credit for his giving nature… even if he had his own way of going about it. Though he cared so much about image and his ability to shine, he never hesitated to make sure that the people around him shined too...

Asmo waved to the fan as she scampered away and was about to  apologize to the MC when he saw their face…

The man knows this look well. He's seen it a billion times, though it was particularly cute coming from them.

"Awww MC! Taken by my beauty are you~?"

He was about ready to kiss their cheek when they responded.

"No, not your looks, Asmo… with you."

… Oh.

It was very rare to see Asmo speechless, but for a few seconds his mind seemed to take in their words… letting them fully sink in before his heart utterly melting.

Oh MC… His sweet MC!!

Asmo ended up dropping the rest of his bags just so he could properly litter his human in nuzzles and kisses, the both of them humming and giggling in delight despite their shameless PDA.

Of course it would be his MC to see that part in himself… Who else would take the time?

Beelzebub 

Food is a precious resource to Beel. For him, it's a lifeline. A good meal could save him from the brink of starvation…

But that still doesn't make him incapable of sharing from time to time.

He and the MC were walking back to the House after getting takeout from Hell's Kitchen. Beel hadn't even waited until they left the restaurant to start eating his share, spilling the smell of fresh food into the air around them…

Things were going fine on their route back until they heard whimpering behind them…

A hellhound puppy, not quite old enough to bear its fangs, seemingly followed them as they were walking… It looked like it had been out for some time and eyed their food with hungry eyes, but weak posture. Who knows when it last had a meal?

The MC was about to tug at Beel's sleeve and say something, but their demon was ahead of them this time.

A casual observer might have gawked at the sight of Gluttony kneeling down to offer such a lowly creature a sandwich. But the MC knew better. When you spend your whole life hungry, nobody more than you understands that kind of pain in someone else. 

This reaction wasn't out of character for Beel, it was elementary.

And when the puppy finished its meal and covered Beel's cheeks with appreciative licks, he just laughed and scratched behind its ears. Amethyst eyes looking more relieved at its health than disappointed he lost some of his lunch...

Food was Beel's lifeline, but kindness is what made him who he was…

When the pup finally scampered off, Beel looked over at the MC to tell them it'd be alright and saw their face…

He wasn't really sure what they were staring at… Did he have something between his teeth again?

"MC? Are you okay...?"

They laughed at him for some reason but pulled him in for a hug so they must have meant well.

"You're so sweet, Beel…"

Beel's never one to refuse a compliment so he just hugged them back, beaming.

"Thank you, MC…"

Belphegor 

To say that Belphegor tended to be on the melancholic side would be an understatement… It wasn’t that he was incapable of expressing joy, it was just harder for him to do than most. Not helped, of course, by his tendency to keep his true feelings vague and hard to pinpoint.

But on those rare occasions where he was overjoyed… Belphie could really be something special…

The MC and Belphie were attending one of Beel's games and it was a tight one… Both teams had spent most of it tied and Beel's team was running out of time to overtake that slim margin.

Belphie had always been a supporter of his twin's athletics, but this time it was tense even for him. He kept on the edge of his seat and didn't even nod off during the breaks like he normally would… The MC could just tell how nervous he was for Beel…

But right as the time was about to run out, Beel made a last minute score and sure, the whole field erupted, but Belphie? Belphie hollered.

The normally sleepy and mellow demon was on his feet in an instant and practically shredding his vocal chords in excitement. If his tail had been out, it would have been beating against the bleachers like a war-drum. And his expression?

Belphie's smile is said to stop hearts for a reason. When he puts his all into a grin it's almost like he ascends to Heaven once more, as pure as an angel's choir and as warm as a summer's breeze… Nothing in his eyes but pride and adoration for his beloved twin brother.

Truly, a heartwarming sight to behold…

Belphie didn't calm down until the rest of the crowd settled and was about to point out Beel's skill to the MC when he noticed their face.

… oh no… Why do they look so sappy…?

"You really love your brother, don't you?"

Belphie quickly hid his thoughts behind an irritated frown and plopped back down in his seat… but that didn't shield them from seeing his pink cheeks.

"Of course I do. What kind of question is that?"

He debated just joining Beel on the field to hide his embarrassment when he heard them snicker back.

"Yeah, you're right… Don't mind me."

Oh he minded. He minded a lot that he let his carefully veiled image slip like that. But thinking back to that smile on their face…?

Maybe being a little open wasn't so bad after all...