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garfunklefield · 1 month

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reader works at a strip club and choso falls in love with her? hes a reguilar and she always igves him private dances? she gets excited to see him? what if another customer tries to get too handsy and choso kicks their ass then takes her into his car and they get freakkyyyyyyyyy??

Let me ride UR Disco Stick!

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!stripper!reader/regular!Choso Kamo Warnings: attempted SA [nothing graphic], semi-violent, strip club AU, love at first sight, Choso is crazy down bad, semi-public masturbation, cumshot, car sex, somewhat exhibitionist, semi-public sex, breeding kink, lap dance, fluff, fondling, sitting cowgirl position, sexual tension, creampie, hands-free ejaculation/orgasm, Word count: 5223 DESC: Ever since Choso stepped into Cherry Girls, he was captivated by you.

REQUESTS are OPEN!

ASHRAF ALANQAR'S GOFUNDME. IF YOU HAVE OVER 1000 IN YOUR BANK ACCOUNT DONATE 1-5 DOLLARS.

NOTES: My friend is helping me with ideas so if this gets crazy blame her tbh. And ALL I've been listening to is City Pop, so take that in mind when reading

Choso wasn’t the type to step foot in strip clubs. He wasn’t even a very sexual guy, never one to masturbate unprompted or take time out of his day to watch porn. So he had no clue what made him pull over that Saturday night as he drove into the city, windows done and light music wafting into his ears. He wasn’t sure why Cherry Girls, of all places, caught his eye. The bright pink LED lights flashed in his peripherals, making his head turn just a bit. The sign was in the shape of a cherry, illuminating the city life. It was nice, in between a few dull buildings. It lit up the night and made him smile as he drove past. It was about 10 PM when he walked up, one hand in his black skinny jeans pocket and the other on his ID. He had seen a few movies to know how it would go.

He had just left a gathering with friends from college, nothing unusual. So the man's outfit was more casual than he’d typically dress. Black pants and a tighter black top, without any sleeves. It had some logo on it that he was unfamiliar with, but he wasn’t disappointed in how it framed his chest. To say he was scrawny would be a disservice to his body, molded perfectly to accentuate his muscles. He was built, but not intensely so.

Kamo’s hair was also different that night, instead of up in his usual style he had opted to wear it down around his face. Usually, it would be up in smaller puffs. Something cute that set his look apart from the rest of his peers. Approachable even. Without that, or even a touch of purple eyeshadow, he looked like a douchebag. Maybe it was the resting bitch face or that constant awkward smile that made him look unapproachable. But with the makeup and hair? More of a cutie-patootie!

After the man was let in, he was bombarded with pink lights and waves of perfume. It was an elixir, how it drew him in. LED lights shined on a stage in the center of the building, that’s what his eyes focused on. Anyone else would take a moment to scan their surroundings to take it all in, but he was stuck. He couldn’t stop staring at that stage and the perfectly thick legs that graced it. It was you. Your body was barely contained in thin straps and buckles. Curves spilled over each piece of fabric in an addictingly attractive way. You were addicting. His eyes trailed to your face as his body moved him to sit at the first seat available, drinking you in. You had a round face, completed with perfect features. They fit you in ways he didn’t know were possible. Facial harmony? Whatever it was, you had it. Your hair framed your face in a style he wasn’t sure the name of, with a few bows to make it come together. Gorgeous. You were utterly gorgeous.

How was it that an angel was walking among humans and he was just informed? And it was strange, from the first time he had seen you, he felt a rush of arousal. No woman had made him aroused by their face or their movements. As you glided up the pole, he was throbbing. Your head leaned back as your face did all the talking, your lips painted in red. They fit your face and contorted in a way that made you appear to have said something, without anything being uttered from your mouth.

Choso wasn’t the type to set foot in strip clubs, and he wasn’t the type to masturbate in public. But he was seriously considering it at that moment. His erection poked through his jeans and strained the cloth. He exhaled a shaky breath and pressed his palm into the center, trying to wain it in some way. Yet, that was a mistake. It was sensitive and god that touch felt good. What would your touch feel like? What would your dainty hands do if they got the chance to touch his erection? How would they wrap around his cock and how would they satisfy him? And your mouth; How would your lips suck his tip and how would your tongue lick his slit? Just these thoughts alone were sending pleasurable shivers up his length.

Bouts of pre-cum were staining his boxers and god he was so close he could feel it. If you could just touch him; If you could just breathe into his ear. Something, just anything from you would be enough. His breath hitched and his eyes closed, head leaning back into his seat. Kamo was inching toward a climax he wasn’t even sure would be possible just imagining you. How would your pussy feel between his fingers, wet and sloppy on his dick? How tight would you be and how bad would he have to stretch you out before he could take all his length? Your hips would be perfect anchors for his hands as he would plow up into you, from behind, or even from on top. Love handles would be good too, he’d take anything. Just to graze your ass with his boner and grind until he found relief.

And then it was too much, Choso felt himself spill over the edge in a hot burst of emotion. He gasped and opened his eyes to see your face grinning at the audience as you turned. Cum poured in spurts from his tip, warm and sticky into his underwear and coating himself in white. It was so hot, he gripped the seat beneath him and tried to hide his noises. But it was so hard to even sit still. A low growl, almost a whine, escaped his lips as he bit down, grinding his teeth. With his back arched, the male began to pant and pray no one had heard him.

As he came down from his high, he had to come to terms with exactly what happened. You had just made him cum without any touch at all, without even knowing it. It was one of the best orgasms he had ever had, from his mind alone. He needed more.

Getting a private dance was easy, the details being a bit fuzzy in Kamo’s mind. All he could focus on was sitting in a lounge chair in a small, yet desolate room. It had soft red walls with low lighting that made everything seem darker than it actually was. Maybe it was to further the arousal building again in his lower abdomen. Again? He wasn’t sure how, but he was finding himself becoming hard again just at the thought of you. Was this what it was like to be down bad? Down astronomical?

His thoughts got interrupted when you entered the room, lacy black set making his body turn on fire. A lump in the man's throat formed when you spoke in your angelic voice, “Choso, right?” You introduced yourself, turning a bit shy when you saw his very large erection forming in his skinny jeans, “Excited huh?”

He couldn’t speak, well it felt like it. With a loud swallow, the male attempted to form some coherent words, “Y..yeah. I guess you could say that.” Embarrassment filled his face in the form of a pink stain, blushing his cheeks and dabbling his nose. Was this what it felt like to pay for a woman to give him attention? For thirty minutes you were all his, and all he could do was stare as you moved your body.

“It’s okay. I know it’s your first time too,” you cooed, closing the door with your hip as you continued softly, “I’ll be gentle…” That tone, it was better than he could have imagined. If you didn’t stop soon he knew he’d be in deep shit. Choso’s hands tightened on the armrest as you approached, putting a hand atop his. Something about your eyes was telling him to relax and he wanted to listen. He wanted to give in and let you have your way with him for as long as you wanted, until you were tired of him. Until he was completely and utterly yours.

He let go of the armrest and you smiled, “Good boy. I’ll take it slow too,” your voice was music to his ears, so the raven-haired male let himself close his eyes for a moment to compose himself. Your perfume, a mix of chocolate and cherries filled his nose. It was sweet and pleasurable. He didn’t realize you were getting closer until his eyes fluttered open. Kamo felt his breath hitch when your face was mere inches from his own, lips forming a pout.

“H-Hey…” He breathed out, and you smiled.

“Hi, handsome,” your breath was sweet too, like candy. Before he knew it, you seated yourself on his lap, hovering over his obvious boner. It was hard to avoid, but you managed to keep your distance. This was getting too much for him and it hadn’t even begun. Your smell, your presence, it was going to make him spill over the edge again and again if you let him.

“You can touch me, baby,” you smiled through white teeth, leaning back and pressing your hefty breasts together, hands lightly thrumming on your own skin, “Tell me your fantasy.” This was different than anything he had ever seen in a movie. Was he supposed to touch you? Was this how you always operated in the club or was he special? God, Choso hoped he was special just for you.

“I want,” Choso’s voice stuck to his throat thickly, as he attempted to form words, “You…” And there it was, an opportunity to touch you. He didn’t take it for granted, placing two hands gingerly on your love handles. They were as soft as he had imagined, ever more so. Then his palms trailed to your hips, squeezing just a bit to see some kind of reaction. You bit your red bottom lip and inhaled just a bit, something he noticed and something he couldn’t help but drink in. You were intoxicating. He was practically drunk already and close to staining his underwear in pure white bliss.

“I want you,” the customer began again, focusing his eyes on your face with a sense of determination, “To ride me…” And he let out a small moan when you leaned into his touch, your clothed cunt grazing against his erection. That was enough and he groaned, trying his hardest to keep it in but he couldn’t, orgasming there on the spot in hot bouts of pleasure. He inhaled and whined lowly, throwing his head back and squeezing your hips to keep himself stable. Pleasure and orgasmic joy ran through his cock as his swollen urethra cried out hot cum into his jeans.

Your face looked a bit shocked at his actions, clearly understanding what had happened. But you didn’t seem to mind. Instead, your hands made home on his chest and rubbed small circles with your palms, fingers stretched out, “You want me, huh?” Your voice was teasing, almost rubbing salt into the wound. But he didn’t hear it. He could feel the throbbing in his ears getting louder and the throbbing in his pants started up again. What was going on with him? Never in his life had he come that much, especially without some form of physical stimulation.

“I …” Choso’s mind blanked when his eyes refocused onto you, leaning toward your touch. This was so overstimulating to be with you here, it was … nice in a way. All his senses could do was focus on you and your touch. Your beautiful and amazing touch. He needed to savor this for as long as he possibly could until his time with you was up.

The man wasn’t sure how long he stayed with you seated atop his lap, but it wasn’t enough. When he left, he couldn’t help but think about your touch. It was heavenly, so heavenly he couldn’t stop but get aroused again. This time it was more of a burn than anything he had felt before. It was a fiery sensation burning in his cock as he sat in his car. It was different than the last times because it was an innate hunger deep inside his lower abdomen. It was different because he had to touch himself or he might’ve just dropped dead then and there.

Your face, he could see it contort in pleasure as he unzipped his pants. And your warmth, he could feel it when he snaked a hand around his length. This was nice, closing his eyes and feeling your walls clench around him, as his hand stroked himself slowly. Teasingly, tauntingly. He wanted to savor this newfound pleasure for as long as he physically could until he had to go home.

Kamo could feel your face press against his shoulder as you rode him, whining for more. You’d be needy, no matter how much game you talked. He could tell you’d beg for him to fuck you and you’d cry as he pounded you. He’d like that, to fuck you nice and good, huh? He’d make you beg for it, and make you ride it with your hands forced behind your back until you sobbed. He’d make you his, mark you with his mouth until you were covered in hickies. All over your thick breasts until your nipples were sore from his tongue, practically bleeding from how much he’d abuse them with his teeth.

He could hear you whine, basically, he could hear you crying for him. He’d fuck you good. He’d be the perfect boyfriend, too. No matter what you wanted, the man would get it for you. And meals? He’d cook! You didn’t want to clean? He’d clean! Choso would be your house husband if he could just be yours.

When he came, his cock was throbbing. He was milked beyond belief, leaking slowly into his palm as he gasped. Guttural groans filled the air he arched his back to the sensation. It was so good, and it would’ve been better if it was your hands. If it was your pussy, squelching as he made you, his.

And he was going to make you, his.

Choso didn’t want to admit it, but he was going to come back every Saturday until he married you. Was it too forward to already think of vows or what colors would be prominent at your wedding? Probably! Was he doing it anyway? Absolutely!!

The first time you saw him again, you did a double take. Now he knew he was going to be going to the club, so he had time to get ready. He spent an hour doing his hair in his signature puffs, then his eye makeup in purple and red, followed by some eyeliner. Just one line from his eyelid down to his cheek on either eye, followed by tight-lining his eyes. He felt a bit overdressed, but those insecurities faded when he saw you. You were in a light blue lingerie set, something that accentuated your skin tone. And, it didn’t cover much. His eyes wandered for a moment as he found himself a seat at the front, by the stage.

The man wasn’t expecting much from this, but he hoped to have a private room with you again. Something to see you and feel you. Maybe this time he’d be able to compose himself long enough to fondle your breasts, or even squeeze your ass. Just seeing you in your glory, walking around to talk to guests was making him feel a certain type of way again.

It was quickly stopped by a man who approached you. He was taller and probably more intoxicated than anyone else in the building. The way he walked indicated he could barely even hold himself up, but he had one goal in mind. Getting to you. Maybe Choso was being jealous, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the man. The way he strutted to you and grabbed your arm, shouting something slurred in your direction, it angered him. How dare this man? What nerve did he have to think he could ever talk to a woman like that? Spouting such bile to someone as beautiful and amazing as you? He continued to pull at your arm as you shook your head and pulled it back, grabbing a drink from a nearby tray and throwing it to his face.

No one was coming quick enough. Why weren’t the bodyguards handling this? Why wasn’t someone doing anything?

Kamo stood and dusted his pants off. He hadn’t wanted to get involved in an outfit he liked so much, but for you, he’d do anything. He was hooked on you, your voice, your scent, your hair, your everything … all after one day. So you shouldn’t have been surprised when he walked up to the much taller man and socked him in the jaw. There was a very high chance that could have gone south, or completely missed. But somehow, his balled-up fist plowed the guy in the head, enough to make him stumble. Of course, it wouldn’t have knocked him over. But he was aiming to disorient enough to get you to the back or somewhere safe.

“Choso?” You spoke, grabbing onto his arm, “You… really didn’t have to do that.” Before he could respond, the drunken man attempted to tackle Choso down. Thankfully for him, you grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the way. He stumbled forward and looked at you, smiling thankfully before turning his attention to the drunken man who was not giving up any time soon. Maybe punching him was a bad idea.

“Um,” he pressed his lips together, before forming a very awkward smile, “Will you marry me?” The drunk was busy grabbing a chair to throw, giving the two of you a few seconds before disaster. And of course, with the adrenaline, he wasn’t thinking.

“What?!” You whipped your head to him.

“Come to my car?” He said instead, offering his hand to you. The most he could do was offer you a ride home and hope security would take care of the issue. And a part of him really hoped you’d say yes for selfish reasons. He wanted you to trust him and let him in, and maybe then your relationship would blossom. Maybe then, you’d kiss him. It was farfetched as hell to imagine he’d get anything more than a handshake out of this, but he wanted to hope.

You took his hand and let him swiftly lead you to his old beat-up Kiya, parked quite a ways away, “Um. You didn’t have to do that.”

Kamo shook his head to dismiss that thought from your mouth, “I wanted to. No one else was going to protect you.” With a smile he clicked his keys, seeing his car light up a few spots ahead, “We can just wait in here until they kick him out, uhm, you know.” Your face lit up in a way he hadn’t seen before. Something sweet about it. It was a mix of relief and happiness. Your lips pursed together into a pout and your face began to redden. To Choso, it was adorable. He wanted to take you and hold you in his arms, vowing to protect you from the world and anyone who dared hurt you. Maybe that was extreme. But he would give his right arm just to hold you for a minute, pressing you close against his chest and closing his eyes, as he smelt your hair.

“Thank you, Choso. You didn’t have to,” was all you spoke, quiet and soft. It was a change from how seductive and snarky you could be, and he liked it more. It was a more genuine side to you, and the man wanted to see more of it.

He led you to his car, turned it on, and opened the back door for you to sit. He just assumed you’d prefer the room in the back rather than the small seats up front. Sitting beside you, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you looked out the car window. It was nice for a moment, to smell your perfume and to see you look comfortable. The way your body molded to the seat as you just sat there, your stomach bunching together in rolls, and how you leaned against one arm. You were cute. You were amazing.

“Um,” Choso broke the silence after a moment, watching your head turn to him. Your eyes scanned his face and you smiled, awaiting his next words, “Are you cold? I could give you a spare jacket…?” His voice trailed off when you pressed your glossy lips together.

“I could come closer to you?” You asked, tilting your head to the side and letting a few loose strands from your hairstyle fall across your forehead. Without being able to think if it was appropriate, Kamo reached forward and gently pushed some of the hairs away from your face, just so he could see all of your beauty in the moonlight. He hadn’t fully registered what you said until a few moments later when a red blush trailed up his temples. You wanted to sit next to him? You wanted him? It was hard for the male to imagine that the way he felt about you could ever be reciprocated. He didn’t speak but instead nodded. A smile, wider than before, pulled at your full lips as you scooted closer. Your big thighs stuck to the leather seats as you crawled toward him, sitting down right beside him. Your plush hand fell atop his and your eyes met.

Was this intimacy? Was intimacy more than simply fucking each other, but instead feeling a deep, soulful connection? Choso, in all honesty, had never felt a connection to someone so soon and so intensely, without knowing them. You were different. In the way you carried yourself and how he was beginning to see your mind too. It was different. Of course, your beauty captivated him. But you had something special to you hidden beneath the jewels of your flesh. Your warmth was comforting to him as you leaned your side against his. Hands on hands and skin on skin. That was what the raven-haired male liked. He needed you. He needed to make sure you were okay, and if you were, that was all that mattered.

Slowly, as the evening progressed he found you inching your way closer to his body until you were practically on top of him. Your arm weasled its way around him and pulled the man closer, letting you be one. His arm found its way around your shoulders. Without saying anything he pulled you in and let you rest. You were in control of the situation. Anything you wanted to do him he would comply and follow to any extent you wanted him to. If all you wanted was his warmth and his arm, he’d give you both without hesitation.

And slowly, you sat up and stared into his eyes. There was another look there than what he had seen the last week. Rather than a calculated lustful look, designed to make any man's knees weak, it was genuine. It was longing in a way he hadn’t seen in anyone in so long. You stared at him like he was a treasure you wanted to take apart and search with delicate hands, terrified of destroying. You looked at him with wide eyes, full of desire. But it was a desire to get closer, closer in every sense of the word. You wanted to be in him, on him, with him, near him; Intellectually and physically, mentally and emotionally. Were you as crazy down bad as him??? Honestly … yeah.

Choso uttered your name, low in the base of his throat, before he leaned in. It was slow and methodical and god, he wanted to cave and force your mouth onto his. But he wanted to savor this moment as much as he could, even if it meant putting himself in agony. Your lips met slowly, molding together in harmony for one slow second before you opened your mouth. Inviting him in, you kissed delicately and placed your arms on his sides. He wasn’t sure what to do, but followed your lead, kissing as you did. Your heads turned in opposite directions, opening up for more room to explore with your tongues. The intensity grew, as did the burning desire in his pants to feel your pussy. To feel you, live you, breathe you, he was going insane. Just touching your hair, trying his hardest not to mess it up, was sending hot arousal down his cock into his swollen head.

Deeply and passionately he kissed you as if the world would collapse unless your lips were on his. Deeply he swallowed you whole, just by pressing his mouth onto yours. If you weren’t the one kissing him he would have never wanted to kiss again. His hands found home on your hips and slowly pulled you onto his lap with practical ease. His arms wrapped around your waist and he seated you on his erection. It was so hot to feel your warm, wet, and clothed pussy against his groin, desperately beginning to grind for release. But Choso didn’t want you two to just bump and grind. He needed to be inside you or he was actually going to drop dead.

“Please…” Kamo whined, breaking from the kiss to stare into your eyes with his grey orbs, eyelids hanging low and lashes brushing against his cheeks, “Let me fuck you… I want to.. Mmm.. I want to touch you so bad..” His large hands squeezed your hips again, harder, with more drive. If he wasn’t going to be inside you why would he even live??

You nodded your head quickly and went to work. It was easy to free his cock from his jeans, then his boxers. All you had to do was unzip and pop it out. He was a bit shy to show himself to you, but your wide eyes and slacked jaw proved to him you seemed to like it. The man wouldn’t have considered himself huge but on the bigger end of the spectrum.

He ran his fingers down your front, thumbing your laced pantie set as they trailed further to your core. Just a few more inches and he’d be touching your pussy. If only he could live in it. His index and middle gently pried away the fabric so he could lay eyes on your perfect cunt. Even if it had discoloration, moles, or hair, or it wasn’t what he had seen on porn … he didn’t care. It was yours. Choso had been dreaming of this day for so long [1 SINGULAR WEEK]. He dipped into your wetness, rubbing one small circle just to see your sensitive reaction. Your breath hitched in a way he hadn’t seen before, your muscles clenched in your jaw and your hands rested on his shoulders. Beautiful. You were utterly beautiful.

He pulled your undergarments to the side and lifted you up a bit, attempting to position you in the somewhat dark parked car. You helped a bit, grabbing a hold of his length and stroking up a bit in a teasing motion. Choso stuttered in his movements and slowly lowered you down. He was going to cum from pure impact alone. He already knew he wasn’t going to last long, but your pussy was making it damn near impossible. Tight walls enveloped his cock, covering it like a warm and soft hug as they stretched to accommodate his girth. Wetness spread down his member and for a moment he swore he could’ve felt you pulsate above him.

“Choso,” you spoke impatiently, grabbing a hold of his face and pulling him in, “Please just … kiss me or something.” That was all you needed to say for him to take it from there. His lips met yours quickly, taking peck after peck until his head turned to the side and took in your bottom one. He wanted to do so much in such little time, but he couldn’t be everywhere at once. Big hands took your love handles and rocked you back and forth a bit, just making sure you were adjusted to his penis before he began to thrust you up and down. Kamo wanted you to bounce and cry on his cock until you were nothing more than a blabbering mess. He wanted you to choke on his cum after he face-fucked you, making you swallow every drop. He wanted to do so much in such little time.

He lifted you up just a bit to get a good angle, as he fucked into you. Tight and squishy, and warm and like melted honey on his length. You were so hot, your noises, your face, your fucking pussy. God, it was harder for him to concentrate on kissing you as he was fucking you. Your kisses were needy and incessant as was his urge to breed you- my god. He couldn’t help but barely hang on as white-hot bliss was building deep in his lower abdomen. The male's hips thrust forward, hitting your swollen spot. He could tell he was fucking you oh so good because your lips were trying to catch up with his. Your grip on his shirt got tighter and for a second he swore you were clenching around him tighter than you had before.

“H-Harder.. Mm..- hhah.. Cho-Cho..Choso..” You whimpered, pulling back from the kiss to rest your head on his shoulder. He wasn’t holding back anymore, groaning out as he was beginning to ride out his slow high. The man inhaled and gasped, grunting forward as you moaned. Your moans were perfect. They were music to his ears, making him spill almost instantly. Within seconds of pumping into you, he was fucking his seed right back inside your pretty cunt. He could imagine it, giving you a baby. Making you a pretty mommy as many times as you wanted. He’d never get tired of cuming into your hot pussy and painting your walls milky white.

Choso continued until he heard you cry out and arch your back, biting your lips and trying not to scream. He knew you were cumming then. He was past the point of sensitivity to feel anything, so he continued to fuck you good. All he wanted was to please you and make you cum. Your walls clenched around him as he touched your G-spot, violating it with his cock-head. You came and groaned, biting back another cry as the pleasure crashed throughout your body.

It stayed like that for a minute as he slowed his humping down to a stop, letting you keep a nice seat on his lap. All the two of you could hear were the sounds of your heavy breathing, mixed with the low hum of his car air conditioner.

This is the perfect time to propose, “...About what I, um, said earlier…”

#jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo smut #choso x you #choso smut #choso x reader #choso kamo #jjk choso #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut #smut #x reader smut #garfunklefield writing

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cleo-fox · 9 months

Text

Unraveled

Summary: It was all fun and games until Loki started wearing that goddamn sweater.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, teasing, orgasm delay, sex, vaginal fingering, godly refractory periods, kitchen sex, semi public sex, Loki in a sweater.

A/N: My explanation for this one is that I saw too many pictures of Tom Hiddleston in a sweater and it gave me thoughts.

Being an Avenger has made you pretty good at rolling with the punches. After your third or fourth encounter with some alien/wizard/android bullshit, your perspective is fundamentally altered and real life seems manageable in a way that it didn’t before. You have to call your insurance company to dispute a claim? Big deal, you’ve negotiated with terrorists; you can handle Garth from Member Services.

The thing is, having that kind of perspective means that the things that do get to you can rattle you a lot more than they should. Natasha had warned you about that, but you were riding high on the thrill of successfully conquering Blue Cross Blue Shield and you kind of got to thinking she was exaggerating.

And then the seasons started to turn and Loki started wearing that goddamn sweater.

You can recognize when someone is out of your league. When you first moved into the Tower, it had been relatively easy for you to assign Loki to that category: he was a god. He’d been featured in last month’s GQ. You were mortal and your most recent press had been a TMZ story featuring unflattering paparazzi photos of you leaving a bodega in your pajamas at seven o’clock in the morning, a bagel halfway into your mouth. You were clearly not the same.

Up until the sweater, you’d managed to keep your cool around Loki and keep your attraction confined to daydreams and the occasional surreptitious lustful glance. Hell, you’d even had the nerve to be proud of yourself for keeping your shit together in front of him.

The sweater lays waste to all of that.

On the surface, it doesn’t seem like a sweater that is capable of completely destroying your carefully constructed composure. It’s a fairly standard crew neck in a deep green so dark it almost looks black at a first glance. But on Loki it just…does things to you. The fabric is well fitted, clinging to his biceps, pulling taut across his chest, emphasizing the line of his pectorals. It somehow accentuates how muscular he is while also still making him look lean and lithe.

The first time he wears it, you find your eyes just trail to him of their own volition, like an incredibly horny moth to the flame. It’s a day of catching yourself staring, panicking, pretending that you were actually looking at something else, and then repeating the process five minutes later when your gaze inevitably wandered again. It almost would have been funny if it didn’t put your blood pressure into the stratosphere.

To make matters worse, at the end of that day’s debriefing, he rises from his chair and raises his arms to the ceiling in a long stretch. The hem of the sweater creeps up, exposing the firm, flat muscles of his stomach, lightly dusted with a trail of hair that meanders in a tantalizing path down to his belt buckle.

You promptly choke on your own spit. Clint claps you hard on the back and asks if you’re okay, which is a question you don’t know how to answer (ultimately, you stick to a thumbs up and mumble something about dust getting caught in your throat). Loki is too preoccupied complaining about the entire concept of office furniture to notice. Or at least you’re pretty sure he doesn’t notice.

You might have been okay if that had been the only incident, but the sweater makes a repeat appearance on Friday. The following Tuesday features the deadly combination of the sweater with a pair of tight, dark wash jeans that nearly send you into cardiac arrest. Your fantasies suddenly become much more frequent and detailed.

You are not really sure what to do about this—it’s not like you can talk to anyone about it, nor can you ask him to stop wearing it without prompting some very uncomfortable questions. The idea that you’ll get used to it is laughable.

You look at your calendar and note that spring is six months away. At least.

Fucking hell.

It’s a Saturday afternoon and in a strange quirk of scheduling, almost everyone is out of town for a mission or a personal obligation, leaving the Tower unusually quiet. As much as you enjoy the daily clatter and chaos that comes with living here, you find a lot of comfort in these moments of quiet, however infrequent they may be.

You intended to make yourself a late afternoon snack. That was the plan, anyway. But as you’re standing at the kitchen counter and cutting up the fruit you just washed, you realize that you’re not entirely alone. From this vantage point, you can see Loki lounging on the couch in the next room and reading.

He’s wearing the sweater. Of course he’s wearing the sweater. And the so-tight-they-should-be-illegal dark wash jeans.

Goddammit.

You have the sense to set the knife down at least. The last thing you need is a trip to the hospital because you got too distracted by your hot colleague while handling a knife.

You let your gaze travel along the firm muscles of his chest. It’s just a sweater. It shouldn’t look this good. It shouldn’t prompt these kinds of thoughts. And yet…

He shifts on the couch and the hem of the sweater creeps up. His hand drops to his belt buckle. It’s entirely appropriate, but the way his long, long fingers are splayed against his stomach makes your mind drop straight to the gutter and wonder what they’d look like wrapped around his rock hard co—

“You know, it’s rude to stare.”

His voice comes from behind you and adrenaline surges through you like an electric shock. The Loki on the couch looks up at you and smirks before disappearing in a shimmer of green.

You wonder if it’s possible to die of embarrassment and a heart attack all at the same time. It certainly feels like you’re about to.

You take a deep breath and try to collect yourself, which feels largely futile. Come on, get it together. You’ve negotiated with terrorists and insurance companies. Shake it off.

You slowly turn around, cheeks burning. Loki is standing right behind you, arms folded across his chest. You swallow.

“I um. I was—I was just…” Words escape you as your brain fires in every direction except a helpful one.

“You were just what?” His expression is intense, but you’re not sure that he’s angry.

“Spacing out,” you say, trying to infuse your voice with confidence that you absolutely do not feel.

He places his hands on the counter behind you, intentionally caging you in with his body. You are overwhelmed by the scent of him—a masculine, wintery musk that makes you want to bury your face against his chest.

“Try again,” he says. His voice is deep enough to rattle your bones.

You swallow. Everything you could possibly say seems wildly inadequate.

Loki has never been one to be at a loss for words, though, and after a moment of terrified silence from you, he continues speaking.

“I’ve noticed something curious over these past few weeks,” he says. “When I wear this sweater, you can’t seem to take your eyes off of me.”

Your heart is pounding. Fucking hell. Have you really been that obvious?

“Now why is that?” he asks, his voice a low purr.

You briefly consider trying to lie again, but the piercing green of his eyes instantly makes you rethink it. “I um…” You swallow hard. “It’s just…it suits you. You…you look good.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I look good?”

You nod.

“Interesting.” His lips twitch in a slight smirk as he looks you up and down. “And how does that make you feel?”

Your heart thuds in your chest, your stomach contorting with a strange combination of fear and desire. You’re still humiliated, but the sound of his voice and the dark intensity of his gaze is intoxicating and incredibly arousing.

“I don’t—I don’t know how to answer that question.”

“Oh, I think you do.” There’s a rawness in his voice that makes your cunt clench.

You shake your head, eyes wide. You’re pretty sure he’s not really mad, but you also don't know where this is going. Surely he’s not making a pass at you…right?

“How does it make you feel to see me in this sweater?” he continues, his voice a low whisper. He pauses for a moment and when you don’t answer, he continues. “Does it…arouse you, perhaps?”

Holy fuck.

This can’t be happening.

You try to think of something clever or sexy, but the bluntness of the question and the fire in his eyes kills whatever remaining brain cells you have left. Mutely, you nod.

There’s that smirk again as he licks his lips. “Are you wet right now?”

Your cheeks burn. You give the tiniest nod possible.

“Hmm.” His hand alights on the button of your jeans. “I believe you Midgardians have a saying that is appropriate here: trust, but verify.” He slips the button free and your heart pounds like a war drum in your chest.

You cannot believe this is happening.

“You haven’t been entirely truthful in this conversation.” His palm presses flat against your stomach, the tips of his fingers slipping under the waistband of your underwear. “So I’m afraid I’m going to have to see for myself.”

His hand is achingly slow, creeping lower and lower. He watches you intently as his hand cups your sex, seemingly cataloging the way your breath hitches and all the little shivers that run through you.

His middle finger finally slides between your folds and you can’t help but moan.

“Oh, you did lie to me,” he growls, his index finger joining his middle, both sliding up to circle your clit. “You’re not wet, you’re soaked.”

Your legs are already starting to tremble and you grab on to his shoulders to try and steady yourself. The fabric of the sweater is softer than a cloud against your hands.

“Sopping wet,” he continues, trapping your right leg between his thighs and the counter, the heavy weight of his erection pressing eagerly against your hip. “And this is all for me?”

Wordlessly, you nod. There’s no point in denying it—and you don’t think he wants you to, either.

“What am I going to do about this?” he muses. His index and middle fingers lightly circle your clit again and you whimper.

“Don’t stop,” you gasp. “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop?” he says. His tone is one of light curiosity, like you’re just chatting casually about the weather. “But if I continue, you’re almost certainly going to come.”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please.”

“Oh, you want me to make you come?” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Right here in the middle of the kitchen?”

You nod.

“Anyone could walk in, though,” he purrs. “Anyone could come in and see me with my fingers buried in your dripping cunt. What would they think if they saw you so utterly debauched and at my mercy, begging for me to make you come?”

“Don’t care…” you gasp. How are you already so close?

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t care what they’d think if they saw us like this?”

You shake your head.

“Oh, you must be desperate.” He adjusts his hand, his thumb taking up the rhythm on your clit while his index finger sinks into your slick channel, making you gasp.

“Loki, please—”

“Begging already,” he says, not letting up in his rhythm. “Has it been a long time, sweetheart? When did you last feel this good?”

It’s not a question you can answer. You don’t know that anyone ever has made you feel like this. You moan, your hips bucking hard against his hand.

“Poor thing,” he tuts. “You’re clearly desperate for it. What kinds of filthy thoughts have you had about me?” he purrs. “I’ve seen you staring, I’ve heard your breath hitch. Have you touched yourself while thinking of me?”

You manage a nod and his smile turns feral. “When was the last time?”

“Last…last night,” you gasp.

“How many times did you come?”

“F-Four.”

“Filthy girl.” His free hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tips your head back. “Next time, all you have to do is ask.”

His mouth covers yours, his tongue pushing past your lips as he slides a second finger into you. You moan into his mouth as the pressure in your hips increases.

“Oh yes, let me hear all of those pretty noises,” he murmurs. “Are you going to let me fuck you against the counter after I make you come?”

You nod, whimpering.

“Good girl,” he purrs. “I think you need to be fucked properly and hard. Is that what you need?”

“Yes,” you gasp.

“Mmm, that’s what I thought. This cunt is just too wet and needy for any other treatment.” He draws back to look at you more fully, giving you a lazy, hungry smile. “You’re about to lose it all over my fingers, aren’t you?”

Your orgasm is cresting, the tingling pressure in your hips becoming unbearable. You nod, lost for words.

With one more smirk, he curls his fingers inside of you. “Come for me, pretty girl, let me see you.”

Your cunt spasms around his thrusting fingers and your whole body shudders as your orgasm overtakes you, your head tipping back as you cry out.

“Oh, that’s it,” he murmurs, “there’s my good girl.”

A shiver runs through you at his words, your hips still moving against his hand, trying to draw out every last ripple of pleasure.

He kisses you as you come down from your high, and you take the opportunity to run your hands over his chest and tentatively feel the hard planes of muscle that you’ve been staring at these last few weeks. But after a few moments, he takes your hand and guides it to his cock.

His preference for leather pants or those sinfully tight dark wash jeans made you suspect that the size of his ego might actually be proportionate to the size of his cock and your initial assessment seems to confirm that theory. You rub your fingers over the denim that covers his thick shaft, feeling yourself grow even wetter at the low groan he makes in the back of his throat.

“Take my cock out.” His voice is so deep and his eyes are so smoldering, it feels like the command goes straight to your cunt. You are practically trembling with anticipation as your shaking hands make quick work of the button, buckle, and zipper.

You can’t help but suck in a breath when his cock comes into view. He’s long and deliciously thick—big enough to be a little intimidating, but not overwhelmingly so.

He guides your hand to wrap around his shaft. He barely fits in your hand. “Look at what you’ve done to me,” he says, his voice raspy as he guides your hand to stroke his cock. “Feel how hard I am for you, feel how much I want you.”

His cock practically pulses with need, the tip slick with pre-come and you grasp him more firmly, your cunt pulsing as he gives a deeply satisfying groan.

You stroke him from base to tip, squeezing lightly. He groans again. “They told me to stay away from you, you know,” he says.

You aren’t so far gone that you can let this information slip by. “What? Who?”

“Stark. Rogers. Romanoff. My brother.” He reaches behind you and shoves the fruit and cutting board into the side, the knife clattering into the sink. “They saw how I looked at you,” he says. “They saw that I wanted you. They told me you were too good for me. Too sweet.”

You feel your jeans and underwear melt away in a shimmer of green and he lifts you easily onto the counter.

His eyes flash with desire. “I wonder what they’d say if they knew you’d let me fuck you raw in the middle of the kitchen?”

For a brief moment, frustration almost wins out over your lust. “We could have done this sooner?”

His gaze turns serious. “Darling, we could have done this the moment we met, but I’m told a handshake is more appropriate.”

You take a breath, about to embark on a rant about the individuals he’d named and how they hadn’t even asked, they’d just assumed, but Loki puts a hand up against your mouth.

“Don’t make me wait any longer,” he says. There’s a sincerity and a need in his gaze that you’ve never seen before and it’s enough to calm your anger for just a moment.

“Okay,” you say, wrapping your legs around his waist and angling your hips toward his, “but clear your schedule because I’m gonna need you to fuck me a lot to make up for all that time.”

His grin is feral as he pushes into you.

You shiver at the blunt stretch of his cock, your hands gripping his broad shoulders. He indulges in a low groan as his hips press flush against yours.

“If I’d known they were keeping me from this tight cunt, I would’ve done something sooner,” he rasps. “You feel absolutely perfect.”

“Please,” you breathe, “I need—please.”

His hips snap hard against yours and you moan, your head tipping back.

His eyes glitter as he pulls you close, pressing his mouth against your ear. “The next time I have you, I will be sweet and soft.”

“And this time?” you ask, though you think you already know the answer.

“This time—” His mouth presses against the curve of your neck, teeth scraping just this side of too hard against the tender skin. “—I’m going to utterly ruin you.”

His pace is fast and rough—the word possessive comes to mind. You twist the luxurious fabric of his sweater in your hands as his cock hits that sweet, aching spot inside of you, pressing against your sensitive cunt in a way that makes your muscles spasm and clench around him. You moan, a shiver rolling through you as you inch closer to release.

“I’m…fuck, I’m getting close,” you gasp.

His pace abruptly slows and his grin is wide and his eyes are dancing with mirth when he raises his head from your shoulder.

“That was unnecessary,” you say with a scowl.

“Oh, I just want to savor you for a little longer, my love,” he purrs as he settles into an easy and slow pace that still makes your toes curl. “You’re going to take me right over the edge with you and I’ve waited so terribly long to have you.”

“I feel like you’re probably omitting the fact that you like being a tease,” you say.

He grins again, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Both things can be true.”

He does this a few times—taking up a wicked pace that almost sends you hurtling over the edge, only to slow at the last possible moment, silencing your whimpering protests with a deep and slow kiss that is good enough to make you forgive him until a few minutes later when he does it all over again.

You hold out for as long as you can, but eventually, the ache in your hips overwhelms you.

“Loki,” you breathe when his pace again begins to increase. “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop?” he rasps, somehow finding the concentration to raise an eyebrow. “You’re quite sure?”

You nod.

“You want to come all over my cock?”

Speech is slightly beyond you at this point, but you manage to gasp a desperate plea as you hurtle into the final plateau, right before the fall.

Loki regards you with that same playful look as he fucks you. You wait, unsure of what he’s going to do, your body desperately crying out for your release.

His lips curl into a smile. “Come for me, sweet thing.”

At the sound of his voice, every one of your muscles is tensing and releasing, the slick walls of your cunt clamping down hard on the thick girth of his cock as you shudder and moan.

The remnants of Loki’s composure are fraying, his eyes closed and his jaw slack as he chases his own end. His brow furrows and he throws his head back, letting out a low groan as he comes and you think it might be the best sound you’ve ever heard.

You sag against him as you both come down from your respective highs, his heart beating hard under the soft fabric of his sweater. He reaches for your face, tilting your head back so he can kiss you, impossibly slow and soft.

You’re in the middle of the kitchen. You understand this. In a wholly rational world, you would be quick to hop off the counter, quick to try and negotiate the return of your jeans from whatever pocket dimension he’s sent them to.

Instead, you find yourself wanting to stay in this moment, with his arms wrapped around you, his cock still pulsing inside you as he kisses you breathless.

You count to ten, then twenty. At forty, you draw back slightly, only to have him pull you back into the kiss.

It’s somewhere after one hundred when he trails his lips to your neck and you manage to say what you intended: “We should probably…” you trail off as he sucks at your pulse point, sending a shiver down your spine.

“We should probably what?” he murmurs against your neck, before tracing a lazy figure eight with the tip of his tongue.

It takes you a moment to find that sentence. “Get dressed and such.”

You feel the sharp press of his smile against your skin. “I think not.”

Before you can open your mouth to say anything, the kitchen is fading in a shimmer of green to an unfamiliar bedroom and the two of you tumble into a bed draped in green silk.

“I’d like to stay like this for a while,” he says, a smile playing at his lips as he slowly rolls his hips against you, somehow still impossibly hard. “In fact, I think I need to have you again.”

“I can live with that,” you say. You tug at the fabric of his sweater. “But this is going to have to go.”

His gaze is smoldering and his bare skin is suddenly pressed against yours as the sweater and the rest of your clothes disappear in that familiar shimmer of green.

“Will you like me as much without it?” he asks, rolling his hips against you.

You drag your fingernails up along the firm muscles of his back. “I think I’ll manage.”

“Good,” he says, leaning in to kiss you, “because as I understand it, we have quite a lot of time to make up for.”

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson smut #loki x female reader smut #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x you smut #loki x yn smut #loki imagine

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dimicul · 7 months

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wine red

simon riley x chubby!female reader

just something quick i wrote after i saw this ghost headcanon on tt :,)

“Nothin’, just don’t like how my stomach sticks out.”

Simon pauses, his expression neutral. He glances towards you, drinking in the sight of your features drawing into a small frown as you studied your reflection, hands supporting the small pudge around your belly. He notes how bloody beautiful you look in red, but looks back to his own shoes, urging back a grunt of frustration.

You never complained about your belly.

He’s been around you long enough to be aware of your insecurities, watching you pad towards the bathroom mirror and prod at your pimples, grumbling at the bump on your nose bridge, sometimes sat beside him in bed with a sparkly face mask on - it was second nature to know you, and although it pissed him off to no end, he also understood insecurities were normal.

But this - this was different. You embraced your body, curves, blemishes and all, the crooks and crevices denting your flesh - you didn’t care for the sly looks or judgemental comments, you wore whatever the hell you wanted. And if anyone had a problem, Simon would have fixed it in a heartbeat. This wasn’t your insecurity, this wasn’t a flaw, it was a part of you you loved.

Simon couldn’t handle your expression.

A sigh, a clacking of heels - you had torn your gaze away from the mirror, face scrunched up into one of those mopey frowns Simon adored, and grabbed the leather coat from the rack. It’s almost suffocating, the silence, and he does realise he needs to say something, but talking wasn’t always his strong suit. So his jaw clicks into place, shoulders broad and unmoving, gloved hands resting on his thighs.

Suddenly Simon is sixteen again and sat in front of his headteacher.

He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, whiskey irises boring into the back of your head before you turn with a half assed smile. Ha. He’s glad he can understand your little moods now, or else this night would’ve turned for the worse.

“Come.” The baritone of his voice draws you out of your darting thoughts. You sigh, stepping forward.

You’re not prepared for when his large hands latch onto your hips gently, pushing you forward so his head could rest on your stomach.

“Si-”

And again. You’re doing things you’ve never done before - you always let him rest on your stomach, it was never something you panicked about. A beat passes and your boyfriend lifts his head, penetrating eyes contrasting starkly against the red of your dress.

“What’s up with you?”

You purse your lips, mulling over his tone. “Nothing, just - this dress wasn’t always so… fitting.”

Simon hums roughly, and you inhale sharply at his hands stroking against your hip tenderly.

“Look’s fine to me.”

Neither of you say anything. Not a lot of words needed to be said around him, but then again, not a lot of men were like Simon. Your eyes soften, and you let your palm rest on the back of his neck, your touch making him hum again, the vibrations against your belly causing you to shudder.

“Ev’ry big boy needs his big girl.”

You laugh sweetly, and finally, he exhales quietly, welcoming the feel of your nails against his neck. He supposed it didn’t matter what the hell you thought about yourself.

Because he’d always want you.

#cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x chubby reader #chubby!reader #bodyimage #body posititivity #ghost cod #simon riley #fluff #captain price #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #john price #call of duty #angst #ghost x you

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halfagone · 7 months

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One of the things I love the most about AUs where Danny moves to Gotham City is how easily he fits in. There are AUs where Danny makes a statement and gets noticed for the great guy he is and I enjoy those too, but I love the AUs where Danny fits in as if he's always been here. Where he doesn't stand out, doesn't make a statement.

There is something so quietly compelling about this transition in Danny's life. Danny has always stood out in a negative way. His parents are the town hacks, his sister is a genius that he'll never compare to. Friends who create rallies for their respective causes and actually makes people listen. Even amongst the outsiders, Danny sticks out like a sore thumb.

Danny likes Paulina because it's safe. Anyone would have a crush on the most popular girl in school. That's expected, that's normal. Of course he wants to be popular, what kid doesn't want to be popular?

The A-Listers stand out, not because they're particularly special, but because everyone else has set the standard that only they can reach. They present these kids as what every student should be, and everyone else is just failing to reach their level.

Danny has always striven for normalcy but the only way to achieve it is to fundamentally change who he is and he can't. No matter how hard he tries he can't be that person. He can try, and god has he tried, but he can't change who he is.

And then Danny moves to Gotham.

You can use all sorts of reasons for the move. Maybe this is a scenario where a reveal goes sideways and Danny has to flee. Maybe he has a bad breakup and he wants a fresh start. Maybe he's going to college out-of-state. Maybe he received a promotion at work and his boss wants him to manage the new Gotham branch.

No matter what reason you use, it all leads back to square one. Danny is in a city where he hardly knows anyone, but has heard all the horror stories for. The crime here is nothing like he's ever experienced before. At least with the ghosts, Danny knew they were coming thanks to his ghost sense. He doesn't always get the same courtesy with Arkham breakouts.

But he adapts. It's his specialty. He adapts to new powers and new enemies all the time, he can adapt here too. Human crime might not be his specialty but he knows how to protect himself. And for once he doesn't stand out for it.

Danny is paranoid and hypervigilant? Don't worry, most people here are. They have to be. Danny has scars on his knuckles from fighting ghosts? That's not the mark of a troublemaker, that's the mark of a survivor. Danny keeps a metal baseball bat by his front door? Okay, maybe that's a little strange; most people keep their weapons by their bed.

The point is that all these habits ingrained in Danny's psyche aren't out of place in Gotham. Here, no one thinks strangely of his behavior because they've all developed habits to help them survive. There is a different normal here in Gotham, a different standard, and for once Danny can reach it.

For once Danny is normal and he didn't have to change himself in any way to achieve it. It's proof that there was never anything wrong with him. He just didn't fit in with Amity Park anymore, but there is a place out there where he can.

Gotham City might not have been the home he grew up in, but it's accepted him more than the one he left behind. On the outside, this community might seem rough and harsh and brutal. But these people understand Danny better than anyone else could, because they know what it feels like to fight every day just to survive.

And I think there's something so cathartic about leaving one home, and all the fears that come with that, only to find a better one you never thought you could have.

I don't know. It's just so personal to me.

#dpxdc #halfagone rambles #character analysis #dpxdc au #danny fenton

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vqzz · 21 days

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“It won’t fit .ᐟ.ᐟ”

NSFW WARNING 16- DNI

ft. gojo, geto, nanami, yuta, shiu-kong & ino .ᐟ

sticking to fingering was not only easier for you, but easier for him. He didn’t have the patience to push in painfully slow into your cunt, he knew himself better than anyone else. He would bottom out probably in seconds.

so when he pinned you down, pulling his cock out of his boxers which did not help since he was so hard it was painful, seeing you give up so easily. It made him all the more frustrated.

“jus’ the tip baby—“ he breathed, slapping his cock up against your stomach. he had a loose imagination of what your face would contort too if you gave in and let him fuck you deep.

“cmon, just the tip.. please? If you don’t want to then you don’t have to.” he gave those fucking big eyes he always gave you when he wanted something, so you finally beckoned to his call.

After about an hour of prep, he finally decided it was time to fuck you so hard you couldn’t think anymore.

He smiled, lining his cock up perfectly as he his face into the crook of your next. He kissed right under your ear. You clawed into his forearm as he pushed his tip in, making him tremble. “Fuck,” he growled, his hips stuttering. “I might just move on my own fuck you feel so much better than I imagined.”

The entrance of your walls danced around him, as he slowly began moving his tip out, and in, and out. “You want me to go deeper baby?” He asked, knowing the obvious answer. Now his cock was halfway in, as he kept fucking in and out of you. It was painfully slow, like you were a glass doll about to shatter from one small tap.

Seeing your shuttering eyes, struggling to keep open as his his moved against yours. “Fuck fuck fuck, ‘m gonna go deeper Kay?” Was all he said before his hips started moving on his own. He pushed deep into you, feeling the end of you gauging cunt which just sucked him in.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum already, pretty girl. Lemme fuck you till you can’t think, kay?” He stroked you cheek, smiling.

-˖𓍢ִִ໋𓇼⋆

#genshin impact #honkai star rail #hsr smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #genshin smut #jjk #gojo x reader #gojo smut #sukuna x reader #toji x reader #Yuta x reader #Yuta smut #Geto smut #geto x reader

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fabricated-misslieness · 2 months

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x gn reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.39k | part 2

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: not communicating and not talking about your feelings (not miscommunication since you don't even communicate)

☾⋆☆⋆☽

There's too many beds.

The one night where you guys don't manage to make it to a motel, there's too many damn beds.

The camper van can fit pretty much all of you at once, not that the seven of you will do that anyway. Dani and Dexter have claim on it, as the drivers, and will probably accept two more comfortably.

In Lilly's van there's the backseat and the floor, but if we're counting, for how many beds there are by technicality, the two front seats as well.

You always have tents and sleeping bags around too, just in case you guys can't drive everyone from any recently unfortunate communities to the nearest hotel (although you'd certainly try). To give a rough estimate, about a dozen tents?

Then there's Tyler's truck, the two front seats and the back seat, and the truck bed. It's a bit short, but it can fit plenty people curled up.

So what to choose?

You should probably stay in a car. Much more heat that way, but who's gonna take you in? The designated drivers obviously prefer their own cars, so... Dexter's campervan is pretty spacious? Then again, so's Lilly's, and to be honest she's more of a vibe than the other two, but also why would you need vibes if you're just sleeping?

Maybe you should start a fire, huddle around that? No, that's a hazard, nevermind the fact you only know how to start a fire in theory.

Let's stick to a car, then. Lilly or Dex & Dan for space... Lilly, sure, why not?

As you start heading over to Lilly's van, you hear a sharp whistle. You don't have time to wonder who it's from, as Tyler spins you around.

"You're coming with me." He proclaims, taking you by the shoulders, and you can only laugh.

"Why me?"

Tyler grins, walking you unceremoniously towards his truck bed. "Because you're you, dove." That alone sounds rather intimate, so he fixes his mistake quickly. You're just friends, after all. "And Boone kicks people in his sleep, Lilly's hair gets everywhere, Dani steals the blankets, Dexter snores, and Ben...it's pitiful how he squeezes himself into the corner whenever he's sleeping next to someone, so we always give him his own space."

Right, all good points you'd forgotten.

"So why exactly am I better?" You tease, stopping in your tracks so Tyler bumps into your back and stay close.

"You're warm." And at first it seems like that's the only thing he'll say, your only benefit, as he pauses; but then the rest comes spilling out like a toad strangler. "You're also soft, you don't steal the blanket, you don't complain when I suddenly start talking and you don't snore."

Tyler doesn't mention that the two of you cuddle when you bunk together, and that you bunk together often. He doesn't mention how tonight he'll let you cuddle up on his chest, or perhaps how he'll press his nose against yours and let you play with his hair, because simply mentioning it will mean you'll have to talk about it.

You don't want to talk about, you think; and neither does he. You don't want to talk about how there's something different with the way he slings his arm around your shoulder, or the way you knock your head against his, or how he always gives out your share of whatever (pizza, cookies, etc.) before anyone else, or how you always offer your help to him no matter what.

They're always easy things to ignore, his skinship is not conditional and neither is your kindness, but there's something about the way you look into his eyes when you say thank you, and something about the way his touch lingers.

You don't want to put your finger on it, at least not this season. You'll say it again the next season, and the next, but you ignore that.

"So then I'm your favorite person?" You turn around and bonk your fist against his chest.

He whistles again, drawn-out like he does in awkward moments, but you know it's only playful. "Don't push your luck, dove. You're like... top 5!"

"Top 5? Aww," You feign offense, plopping your hand over your own chest now, "I didn't make it to top 3?"

He splays out his hand and begins to count on his fingers. "There's my mom, then my dad, then the family dog, Liam from the rodeo, and then you."

"The family dog?" Your eyebrows furrow, and the acting seems a bit too real until the look on your face gives away to a memory of his dog giving you kisses. "Oh, yeah, okay. I get it."

"See? You get it." Tyler chuckles, spins you back around and keeps on walking.

The spot you guys picked today is drier than the last, which is something you're thankful for. It's quite far from any town, but the streetlights that adorn the far off road make you feel a bit safer that civilization is just around the corner. There's a light breeze, not too cold and not too fast, and the stars! Oh, the stars.

They're damn nice out here cause they're actually visible tonight, a little less light pollution, you think. It's certainly a lot brighter than, say, NYC or Washington.

"Ain't they pretty today?" Tyler comments, his hands on your shoulders squeezing.

"Yeah. Sparkly too. You know any constellations?"

"No," He hums, his voice holding a bit of lament. "I tried, once. I tried taking a class in college. Astrology."

"How'd that go?" You ask offhandedly, hopping onto the bed of the truck.

"Ended up being too stressed with my main curriculum and dropped the class before it got too far." He fixes a tarp over the top of the truck bed, over the exoskeleton, so not much light will shine over your eyes when you try to sleep.

"The smart Tyler Owens got too stressed?" You ask as you help him up.

"Being smart doesn't mean I have good time management." Tyler says as he sits next to you, and you shrug. Suppose he's right.

"Still pretty though." You hum, leaning your head against his shoulder as you look up.

"Yeah." He agrees. His arm comes to wrap around you naturally, running up and down your side. "Have you ever tried to come up with constellations with... I don't know, whoever you were looking at the sky with?"

"You know what? I don't think so." You raise a finger, tracing a path in the stars for a moment, trying to find something interesting.

He finds one before you, pointing at a group of stars in a weird glob shape. "There, a cloud!"

That alone gets you to let out an ugly, surprised laugh; despite how ugly you might've thought it to be, he thinks it's cute. "You trynna cloudgaze with stars, cowboy?"

"Shut up." He laughs, knocking his head against yours. "You try, genius."

After a couple seconds, you point out a distinct...cone shape in the sky. "Unicorn horn."

"Unicorn horn?"

"What am I supposed to say, cone?"

"You could've said ice cream cone, a little more age appropriate, you know?" He holds out his hand, holding out a small gap between his index and thumb fingers to accentuate little.

"Yeah, well it has no ice cream, dumbass."

"Woah," Tyler withdraws, raising his hands in surrender. "no need to get so defensive, dove."

You slap his hands only to draw them back around you. He has no complaints about that. "Clearly we both suck at this. Let's just admire the stars normally."

He huffs out a laugh but turns his gaze back to the night sky without complaint. It's rather peaceful, this moment, and so nice. Maybe it's not rare that you get comfortably quiet moments with him, nor is it ever rare for Tyler to hold you close like this, but it doesn't make it any less endearing.

"Look!" Tyler breaks the silence suddenly, finger tracing a path in the stars. "A heart."

"You're kidding." You huff out. He's just playing with you, he has to be, especially after your miserable attempts at finding shapes in the sky.

Despite yourself, your eyes will the stars above you into the shape of a heart. Goddamnit, you think, because it's definitely a sign.

"I'm going to sleep." You tear yourself away from his grip and he laughs and tries to steal you back to him, but you fight briefly and end up winning. It's a nice victory, especially because you won over him, but it's not on par with actually finding something in the sky (and you're avoiding the sign).

Tyler chases after you, flopping down beside you. The tarp above casts darkness over the back of the truck bed, but a soft glow still shines through.

You sigh and tuck a hair of Tyler's behind his ear, to which he only laughs. "Jealous, much?"

"Oh, totally." You'd roll your eyes, but they're stuck on his.

"I won." He's triumphant, but you can only focus on how pretty his smile looks.

"You did." You reply, not fighting him on it, and slowly his amusement fades away with the deflation of his body.

"You're not making this fun." Tyler steals your hand, presses the back of it to his lips and notably does not pucker up and kiss. It might be payback, or it might be avoiding the obvious intimacy that kissing you is.

"It wasn't a competition, anyway." You remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

His attitude eventually exudes out of him with a sigh, and he lets go of your hand to push closer. His head rests below your chin, his nose against your neck, and it's not new, but it's not old either.

"I'm sick n' tired of you." He huffs against your neck as you take the opportunity to tuck the both of you in.

You hold back a laugh. "Oh, yeah? Tell me why."

His voice is muffled against your neck, and maybe the vibrations tickle, but you don't dare move away. "I won! We should be celebrating that."

"Celebrate it in your dreams." Despite it being practically the same thing as in your dreams, it actually sounds quite genuine.

"Don't be like that," Tyler whines. "let me stay up for a little while."

You put your hand in his hair, then, twirling strands around your fingers and scratching his scalp, and Tyler hates you and also loves you, because it feels so good that it pulls a groan out of him, but it's lulling him to sleep.

"You're cheating." He whines again. He's being rather childish, huh?

"It's way past your bedtime." You say in a sing-songy way. Curiosity takes over, and you pull his head away from you gently to look into his eyes.

They open once you pull him off you, just barely. Half-lidded, not by lust, but by sleep. "I just wanna hold you for a little while longer." He says, and you don't know how he does it, but his eyes have turned pleading.

"That's on you to try, cowboy." You huddle close again, allowing him to take up the same position as before.

Despite himself, Tyler sighs contently, wrapping his arms around your midriff. One of your hands is on his back, rubbing slow circles, and the other is back on his hair.

He's definitely not going to last long now.

"When's the last time you've ridden a horse?" Tyler babbles on to try to keep awake, but you can hear the sleepy lilt in his voice. "I think my last time was when I last visited home, before the season started."

"One sheep over the fence, two sheep over the fence–"

"Shuddup."

You laugh, hands smoothing over his hair again. You're not sure how you're not very sleepy right now, tucked under the blankets, in his warm hold. Maybe it's the subconscious thought of not accidentally hitting your head on the spare wheel above you, or the faraway feel of the ridges of the truck bed below you.

Or maybe it's wanting to tease him.

"Kiss me."

"What?"

You've kissed before, little playful things: cheek kisses for the camera, neck kisses to either scare you or tickle you, forehead kisses after particularly dangerous scares, hand kisses when he's trying to act all gentlemanly, temple kisses after hugs. You've never kissed him on the lips before, and actually, neither of you have ever explicitly asked for a kiss. They've always been given without question.

"Please?" He asks again, pulling back so that his forehead is off your neck.

Oh, he only wanted a forehead kiss.

You oblige happily, press your lips against his forehead and let out and exaggerated muah!

"No, not there." He pulls away almost entirely, scooting up to be face to face.

You'd laugh, if what he was asking you for wasn't a kiss on the lips. You can't lie, you've thought about it before, when the sun shines a particular way over his face at sunset, or when he's considerably too hot to ignore.

...you're going to have to talk about this tomorrow.

Except tomorrow is not today yet, and so you cup his cheek. You debate it for a moment, a yes or a no, but there's one answer clear in your mind, a yes.

You press your lips against his, and it's more subtle than that forehead kiss, and it feels so much more tangible, in a way. His lips move against yours, a languid thing, a soft thing.

You wonder if he's going to remember this tomorrow, if being as sleepy as this is equivalent to being drunk.

"Thank you." Tyler says as you part, and he settles back where he was, head against your neck. He seems satisfied now, willing to nod off.

"Don't mention it." You say automatically.

Okay you're definitely going to have to talk about this tomorrow. For now, though, you'll just hold him. It's a strange thing to say, but he's always been rather nice to hold, a big man to fill your entire hug, even if he does make your heartbeat spike.

"Goodnight." He says.

"Sweet dreams." You reply.

There's nothing else to think about but the feeling of him in your arms and the warmth of his body as your eyes draw closed.

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x gn reader #twisters x reader #twisters x gn reader #🌸 // success!#💞 // darlings #🤬 // swearshirt #🎟 // twisters #🎫 // tyler owens #🎫 // tyler

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emisloves · 2 months

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I know you’re probably really busy with all of ur works and I don’t want to overwhelm you</3 but I saw someone write about how Jake has a size kink and would do size training lessons so u could take his dick do u think u could write someone describing that 😫

never did anything like this before, so I'm praying you liked it- also idk how size training exactly works so I tried my best- was listening to "brought the heat back" while writing this and went crazy 😔 definitely did not stick to the original concept mb 😔

word count: 807

warnings: making out, smut (mdni), bulge kink, size kink, pussydrunk!jake, bigdick!jake, dry dumping, oral (f!rec), missionary, mating press, creampie, dacryphilia, bit of strength kink, let me know if i missed anything!

I think Jake would definitely have a size kink... especially if his s/o and him have a noticeable height difference.

his size kink would be pretty obvious too. when you guys would make out, it would be extremely messy, tongues clashing against each other, saliva dripping from the corner of your mouths, filling up the room with the lewd sounds of you both trying to devour each other's faces-

his hands would always be pinning yours to some surface- whether it be on the wall behind you, or just caging them in his own, he has to showcase how much bigger he is compared to you. all the time.

he doesn't even try to hide it. even when you both aren't doing anything sexual, his hand is always on your waist or on your back, always maneuvering you around, as if you can't do it yourself.

he would be comparing hand sizes way too often as well, even more than you did. he wouldn't even ask to compare- he would just take your hand in his own and start cooing at how tiny your hand is compared to his- tiny enough for him to be able to engulf your entire hand in his own.

coming back to making out- his hands would always have you pinned to something, preferably a wall, so that he could easily pin your hands above your head with one hand, giving him free access to explore the rest of your body with his other.

he probably won't be able to resist rutting into you either- one noise from you, whether it's a moan, a whimper, a gasp- doesn't matter. it's over for him. he is going to hump you like a rabbit in heat, his bulge pressing against you. his bulge-

he is definitely big. bigger than what you usually take. every time he presses himself against your core, you would be worried about how on earth it was going to fit.

despite him wanting to ruin your sweet little cunt, he would definitely be gentle during your first time together- I'm talking about lots of foreplay (or just him pleasuring you without anything in return), trying to make sure you won't have any problems while taking him.

we know that Jake is a munch. he would enjoy foreplay a bit too much, eating you out for hours, getting completely addicted to your taste. would definitely make you ride his face- probably get off to it too.

once you were sure you could take him, he would be a bit too eager, quickly discarding both of your remaining clothes. it was only then that you saw his dick, your throat drying at the sight of him.

even if you felt him before, it was nothing compared to the real thing- standing tall and erect, the tip an angry red, leaking precum. he would lay you down, holding your hand, pressing kisses on it, whispering the sweetest things ever as he aligned himself with your entrance.

he would slowly push his tip inside, immediately feeling like he was in heaven. it would take all his self control to not immediately start pounding into your cunt, ruining it for anyone else.

you on the other hand, would be struggling. your pussy would be quite literally suffocating his dick, clenching around him tight enough to almost push him out- but jake was definitely not going anywhere.

he would slowly keep pushing inside, letting you squeeze his hand from the pain, tight enough to form bruises. he would keep pushing in, till his tip hit your cervix. he wouldn't stop there, pushing till he bottomed out, his tip piercing your womb. he would give you time to adjust, his self control extremely good-

his cock would twitch inside you at the sight of your tears, quickly leaning down to lick them away, before pressing his lips to yours. the kiss would be sloppy, saliva dripping down your mouths, teeth clashing together. once he was sure you were good, he would start to move.

once he started to move, there would be no stopping him, he would pound into your cunt with no mercy. he would encase your neck with his big hand, putting enough pressure on it to make you feel woozy.

one thing i see him doing is most definitely putting both of your legs over his shoulders for a better angle, or nearly folding your body in half as he fucks you in mating press. would definitely sheathe himself deep inside you as he cums, your pussy milking him for all he's worth- he wouldn't stop cumming until he physically couldn't anymore.

would give you the sweetest aftercare ever too, cleaning you up and giving you a nice, warm bath, cuddling with you afterwards.

best bf that you could ever ask for <3

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animeyanderelover · 4 months

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Anon: May I request Platonic Mukamis with a little sister?

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, overprotective behavior, clinginess, delusional mindset, isolation, manipulation, threats, self-harming tendencies

Little sister

None of the Mukami brothers are related by blood yet their bond surpasses that of even siblings who are related. They have been sticking together ever since they found each other and fought for their survival in the unforgiving world. They find you when you are but a mere baby, a few months old at best, left behind in a side street as if you are disposable trash. Whilst Yuma and Ruki show some hesitation as they don't know how capable they will be to provide for you, especially since you are so young and dependent, Kou and Azusa are immediately enraptured when you look at them with innocent doe eyes. Azusa even starts crying as he begs his older brothers to take you in and ultimately Ruki gives in to his pleas. It is always difficult but they try their best to cater to your needs as good as they can and even give you a name after a lot of small arguments about what name fits you best. Your wellbeing is prioritised over even their own as your presence is like rays of sunlight, warm and welcoming. When Karlheinz offers to transform them, all of them immediately take the offer as they realise that this is their chance to give you the treatment that you deserve.

Ruki Mukami

📘Even if Ruki has expressed his doubts when the four brothers found you back when they were still humans, he has grown into the role of your oldest brother. Perhaps even a little bit too well. The fact that he didn't immediately want to take you under their care when you were still a baby is something he hides from your knowledge even so many years later and he has urged his brothers to do the same. He fears that if you were to ever find out about his initial hesitance, you would turn your back on him and favor his younger brothers over him. He takes immense pride in the fact that he is your oldest brother as he likes to treat it as if it would give him some special rights in comparison to his younger brothers. Those special rights include making most of the decisions for you as he claims that as the oldest he naturally has the most experience and knows what would be best for you in every situation of your life. If you have anything that worries you, Ruki encourages you to seek him out. He is the one who oversees your homeschooling as his brother and him have all agreed that attending school with humans is far too dangerous for you. He can teach you all you need to know.

📘From all of your brothers, Ruki is the one who places the most restrictions on you, even as you grow older. His motivations lie largely within his paranoia and his overprotective tendencies because even if you are a half-vampire just like them, he can't stop himself from still seeing that little, toothless baby in you that smiled whenever she saw his face. It is only natural for you to grow older and more independent yet Ruki finds himself despising that process as he worries that one day you may intend to leave the mansion and go on your own adventures. You are his little light and you have always been and he has always been your big brother and intends for you to continue thinking that way. He is quite adamant on family events where all Mukami siblings participate and his brothers have never once rejected that idea because it means spending precious time with their adored, little sister. The happiness you five share is not an illusion and he really wants you to realise that whenever such a family event happens. You could never get the same amount of happiness with anyone else besides them. Do you understand him? It is best and safest for you to always stay with your beloved brothers.

Kou Mukami

🎤From the very first moment your bleary eyes met his own, Kou has known that he would do everything for you and turn into anyone if it meant to keep you and protect you. You are a little princess that deserves the world yet surviving on the streets always meant that he couldn't treat you the way he wanted to. When Karlheinz transformed them and gave them capabilities and riches they could have never dreamt about before, Kou finally could do what he hadn't been able to do before. From the very first day since they started their new life to the current day, your second-oldest brother has never stopped spoiling you absolutely rotten. Whatever you have wanted throughout your life, you have always gotten from him as prices nor rarity of the object you wanted have never mattered to him. Kou is quite playful and he proudly claims that title as your favorite playmate. Whether you want him to play with your puppets with you or want to play hide and seek with him, he has always entertained you. Ruki has reprimanded him already due to the risk he sees in some of the games he plays with you but Kou has always reassured him that he would never allow you to get hurt.

🎤From the first night they took you in though, Kou has always sung for you. It always made his heart swell when you would start crying during the day or night but would slowly calm down the moment he started singing a lullaby for you. It is one memory he greatly bemoans the older you grow and lullabies start being less important to you yet he still sings for you quite often. He composes a lot of songs and many of them he has written for you during his life, soothing melodies and kind words to calm your frightened young mind as you grew up. You still love his voice and his music though and that knowledge fills him with pride and with warmth and he gladly allows you to try to write a song of your own or teaches you how to play an instrument. He finds himself playfully pouting whenever he notices that you prefer spending time with another one of his brothers, he can't help the tinge of jealous he feels whenever he witnesses that sight. He tolerates it though as he knows that Ruki, Yuma and Azusa are mindful of the time they spend with you. Such jealousy always evaporates the moment you compliment him though or tell him how much you love your big brother.

Yuma Mukami

🌱Yuma has his doubts when they initially pick you up because he knows how harsh the environment is that they live in. He has always been tall and physically very strong which allows him to protect those who are important to him. You are still a tiny and fragile baby though. How are you supposed to survive on the streets? Even when Ruki agreed to take you under their care, he still has his doubts. It is the moment he holds you for the first time and you wrap your tiny fingers around one of his that he gathers the determination to defend you till his last breath. After he has been turned into a half-vampire and gained even more physical strength, he has only strengthened that vow in his mind. His tall physical build has always led him to be exceptionally gentle with you, especially when you are still only a small child. A part of him has always been worried that you may be scared of him because of his strength and tall build yet you have never expressed once any anxiety as you always come running to him and stretch your arms out, your large eyes begging him to lift you up and twirl you around. He has never been able to deny those cute eyes of yours, even though he has always been careful.

🌱Whether lifting you up, letting you sit on his shoulders or giving you a piggyback, Yuma has always been the equivalent of a human amusement park for you and this is something he takes pride in. He has been taking you to his garden from a very young age too and you are the only person who has ever gotten away with jumping through his patch without getting chased down angrily by him. He enjoys teaching you how to cater to the needs of a plant and how to tell if the fruits and vegetables are ripe or not. Whatever of the harvest you prefer the most is what he ends up sowing and growing the most in his garden just to watch the excited glimmer in your eyes whenever he informs you that it's time to harvest your favorite fruits and vegetables. You are in general quite isolated from other people yet the few times you are taken out, Yuma is terrifyingly efficient to scare away anyone who looks like they consider to approach you. Very few have the guts to chat with you if he is always right behind you after all. All that frightening strength that could easily crush someone's skull is never shown to you though as Yuma has always been only gentle and careful with you.

Azusa Mukami

🗡️Azusa has been attached to you from the very start, his heart nearly bursting when he found your little form in a basket all alone as your mother has left you behind. He begs Ruki to let them keep you as he fears that no one else would take you in and that you would end up dying lonely and afraid without having ever experienced love and he even bursts out in tears as he pleads to his older brothers. He even volunteers to take care of you all by himself if no one from that would agree to keep you. He has stayed the most attached to you even up until now, although he has been forced to limit the time he spends with you as you grow older and require a bit more privacy. When you were a baby he would always be right next to you or hold you even himself as you fell asleep, his fingers playing with your small ones and he would read bedtime stories to you, always happy when you came running to him with a book clutched in your hands that you wanted him to read to you. The youngest brother of yours often finds himself bemoaning the time when you were so cute and tiny, even if you will forever be his baby sister for him. Sometimes he still asks you if he can read a book to you.

🗡️Whilst his older brothers care for him, Azusa has some self-harming tendencies and they have always been worried that he might set a bad example for you. They care for him and want him to stop because it saddens them to see him like that but they are also afraid that you might pick up on it or would get scared once you are old enough to realise what Azusa is doing. To all of their relief helping to raise you seems to rid Azusa of that unhealthy behavior of his for the most part as he instead dedicates much more time to protect and raise you lovingly. Yet he has some relapses at times, mostly when you have an accident or fall ill. He cares deeply for you so seeing you in any kind of pain induces him with such anxiety that he feels his throat tightening and his vision blurring. In a very twisted sense of wanting to suffer with you, he resorts to grabbing a knife and cutting himself over and over again to show solitude with you. Azusa never tells you the truth behind all the bandages and the band-aids he wears the next time you see him though as all of his brothers have warned him that he might make you feel guilty. Being the reason for your sadness is the last thing Azusa would want.

#yandere diabolik lovers #yandere dl #yandere ruki #yandere ruki mukami #yandere kou #yandere kou mukami #yandere yuma #yandere yuma mukami #yandere azusa #yandere azusa mukami #platonic yandere #yandere x reader #diabolik lovers x reader

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brucewaynehater101 · 5 months

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Okay, you know that hc where Tim Reincarnates as The Trash of the Bat Family? It got me thinking of him scamming and making the "Real League of Assassins". He integrates Pru, Z and Owens early, makes them his people (or assassins disguised as servants).

"Where's the coffee?"

Owens, pouring chamomile tea, "We're all out of coffee, Sir."

"Energy drinks?"

Pru, throwing a trash bag away. "All gone too, Sir."

He integrates Kon before he experiences the SA with Tana Moon and other ladies, and Kon becomes his bodyguard.

"Are we doing something bad?"

"Oh, we're doing something veeeeery bad. To Lex Luthor."

Tim rescuing Damian.

"You're Damian Al Ghul Wayne. You're an Al Ghul and a Wayne. You can do whatever you want. I'm not taking care of you."

Damian, not trusting this lying bastard, secretly follows him around. Tim knows Damian is, and begrudgingly just accepts Damian into his fold until he reaches Gotham again.

"If you die, Timothy, I will dominate the world, kill everyone, and then myself."

I love these additions so much!!!

The "Real League of Assassins" is such a petty name, and I live for it. Just Tim as a kid and his little League of Assassins (depending on how far back he went into the past and how soon he aquires the OG best assassin squad). It would be double hilarious if his "Real League of Assassins" doesn't actually kill anyone, but I also respect Tim's right to commit murder however he deems fit. I like to imagine how mad Ra's would get at the name.

Part of Tim's asshole cover comes from Pru. There's two ways this can go. One, Pru is her complete self in front of everyone (she will break someone's nose no matter their price tag). This causes major scandals and issues for Tim cause how could he hire someone who behaves like that? Or Two, Pru is creepily pleasant and respectful around other company, and Tim continues to act like usual around her. This causes people to pity Pru for having such a horrible boss.

I also live for Bodyguard Kon AUs. You know the two of them are playing a "I know your sickly Victorian child looking ass can beat me up, but I will pretend I don't know this until you tell me why" with a "please stop saving me from every small things because I know you know a sunburn isn't going to kill me." It's dealer's choice on how soon Kon finds out about Tim's vigilante gig. Also, if Kon is a bodyguard in this, is he also Superboy or the equivalent? Does he become a superhero once he finds out about Tim's heroism? There's no way Kon would stick around Tim if he believed the persona Tim kept up.

Cue Tim accidentally forming the YJ again, but this time it's hidden from the JL radars and is a closely guarded secret.

As far as Damian, I absolutely love that quote you included. It's so Damian coded and I live for him threatening to take over the world. I also want to see Tim's reaction and how concerned he is over Damian threatening to kill himself. As an older brother, he legit could care less about Damian managing to kill the entire world. It's Damian wanting to die that scares him.

As far as the AU, Tim is trying so hard to distance himself from the Waynes that his dumbass shouldn't have picked up Damian in person. He was probably too anxious to leave it to someone else, but now he has a tiny suspicious assassin who reluctantly became fond of him.

There's a few different ways this can play out.

One, Tim picks up Damian in his vigilante costume and never unmasks to Damian. The little tot starts to think of this vigilante as maybe a brother before being given to Bruce (angst of abandonment tied with identity shenanigans. How soon does Damian realize that Timothy "Trash" Drake is the one to save him from the League?).

Two, Tim starts off with his secret identity in tact but reveals himself while traveling back. They bond, Damian is left at Bruce's, and, to the surprise of literally all the Waynes, the kid is seen constantly talking to the complete jerk Timothy Drake. Damian is actually nicer to this douchebag stranger than he is to some of his family members. What's equally shocking is how kind Tim is to Damian. Tim hasn't been cruel to children before, but he hasn't gone out of his way to be nice either. This cues investigations into Tim by the batfam.

Three, Damian refuses to go live with his dad and sticks around Tim when they return to Gotham. Depending on when Tim rescues Damian, Tim's fake uncle adopts Damian, and they become brothers legally. When Bruce finds out Damian is his son, he doesn't take the excuse, "I found him on the streets!" from Tim seriously.

#dc comics #dc universe #tim drake #dc au #damian wayne #kon el #dc prudence #thank you for the ask!!!!#y'all remember to be careful when adding romantic relationships to time travel #timkon is cute but the age difference (even though Tim's body regresses) could get spooky here

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beefboyandbabygirl · 1 year

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

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

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

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

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

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

wordcount: 10.0k

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

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.

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

What do normal people do when they feel this bad?

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

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

There’s never anyone at the door. _____________________________

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

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

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

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

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

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard.

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back.

“Morning.”

“M-”

Wait a minute.

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice to meet you too, Y/n.”

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

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

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

This is not new.

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Y/n?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

“Uh-”

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

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

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

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

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

You feel like shit. _____________________________

Why is no one else cursed?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He leaves.

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

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

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

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard.

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back.

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

“Morning, Wonwoo.”

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

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

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

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

“My favorite woman in accounting!”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s great-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly you’re a thousand daggers all pointing out. You shield yourself.

“Uh,” you trail off, putting the phone down again. “Just some guy.”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows raise. “Boyfriend?”

“No!” you say quickly. “No, he’s, uh. Just some guy.”

A pause.

“Okay,” Wonwoo says. You don’t even remember where you left off the conversation. You bite your lip because everything is all agony. The table is cold and dead beneath your hand.

“I’m thinking we group these together,” you say, eyes now tuned to your screen and fully submerged back into your work. Work. That was all that could cover your beaten down, cursed self.

The rest of the shift you feel Wonwoo looking at you carefully, as if he’s trying to read you. You don’t talk about yourselves anymore, no more banter, no more witty comments. You structure the report, and try to ignore how his eyes laser you open. You don’t like it. You feel like he can tell you’re a pathetic, lonely woman and that you have nothing and no one. You feel like he can sense the curse upon you.

This would be torture. _____________________________

It is not torture.

The next day, to your surprise, Wonwoo is nowhere to be seen. You wait 5, 10, then 15 minutes in the meeting room you’d camped in, before you begin working on your own. It’s slower without him, but you manage.

You can’t help but slightly worry about him. It feels stupid. You know you’re putting too much emotion into a person you’d known for two days, but you can’t help it. You wonder if he’s gotten hurt or injured, or if maybe he hates you and has transferred back. You think even Excel finds you pathetic.

You sit there for three hours, among the ruins of paperwork and your open laptop, running your hand through your hair and typing in sentences that mean nothing, and the wallpaper is off-white and yellowing at the top, and the blinds are closed to the meeting room.

Around 1 PM the door to the meeting room is opened, wood smacking against the glass that surrounds it, and Wonwoo stands in the doorway, slightly out of breath. You snap your head up to him, like the jerk of a lifeless doll, suddenly interrupted from a very disorganized Excel sheet.

“Hi, shit, sorry,” he gasps, slinging his bag off of his shoulder to sit down next to you.

“Are you okay?” you ask immediately, and Wonwoo nods blindly, pulling his laptop out of his bag. “Yeah,” he says, cheeks slightly flushed and licking his lips. “My cat- my cat needed surgery, she got sick last night, it was an emergency.”

You nod in understanding, “it’s okay-”

You can hardly get the words out before Wonwoo rolls his chair back, wheels resounding hollowly on the floor, so he can look at you clearly. “I’m really sorry about this, it was not nice of me to leave you alone with this.” He gestures vaguely to the scattered papers, and you shake your head.

“It’s okay, Wonwoo, I get it,” you say reassuringly, peering up at him through your lashes. “You don’t need to worry about it. You’re here now.”

Wonwoo seems less intent on personal conversations today - it’s probably because he was so late, and now is trying to make up the time. But it’s okay, in fact you’re somewhat relieved, because it dampens the false hope that blooms in your chest, whenever he asks you about your life.

Even if you and Wonwoo work hard and quietly, you slip into the late hours of the night in an attempt to keep on track for your schedule. Outside the windows that separate you from real life, the sky turns orange, and then dark, muted blue, and stars begin dotting its impressive stretches. People begin to leave around five, and by the time you and Wonwoo finish all your work, you’re the last ones left on your floor of the office.

Wonwoo lets out a loud sigh when he finally finishes the second segment of your report, and the both of you slump back in your seats.

“It’s so fucking late,” Wonwoo limply throws his hand in the direction of the window. You smile a little, looking out. Smaller buildings spawn geometrically from the ground, and every once in a while someone walks by with their dog, spotlighted by the stretch of street lamps that stand outside the parking lot. “I really am sorry about this, you know. Really ruined your night,” he says quietly.

You shake your head. “It’s fine, I had nothing to come home to anyway.”

There’s a pause.

Wonwoo looks at you intensely. Oh shit, you realize, was that too obvious? Was that too pathetic? Has it just clicked that you’re a loser that no one wants? You nervously look back at him, but there’s no malice in his eyes. A totally unreadable expression adorns his features, where he’s leaned back in his leather chair, legs spread invitingly. You look away, feeling dumb.

“At least we followed our schedule!” you say. Wonwoo snorts.

“Yeah, thanks to you. If you hadn’t completed so much before I got here, it would’ve been hopeless.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff, blushing lightly and looking at the linoleum flooring. “I don’t know about tha-”

“Seriously, Y/n, just take the compliment,” Wonwoo reaches a hand over, and you watch its movement.

It’s like time slows down, not like the movies, no, like you can stop time with the heavy weight of your gaze, pinning his muscles in place. But you can’t, and it lands on your shoulder with a soft thud. Fuck. His hand is warm and alive on you.

“You did so well today, I-” Wonwoo cuts himself off, because suddenly you’re trembling.

He feels your body shuddering and jerking under his hand, like the wind rattles your door when you leave it open, and he can’t see your face behind a curtain of hair, but he hears you gasp, and, fuck, you look like you’re sobbing.

The man from last night had become so hesitant when you reacted this way. When your body trembled and shook and when you cried, but Wonwoo seems to understand. He peers at you from above the rims of his glasses, and his hand stays put right there on your shoulder.

“Y/n,” he whispers, so sincere it causes a pathetic squeak to escape you. What must he think of you? The thoughts spiral and you can’t control a single one of them, they dance like freed souls in your head, and you can’t stop the spasming of your muscles, and you know you look so pathetic beside him right. “Y/n, look at me.”

You don’t. You can’t. You can’t because there are tears spilling from the rims of your eyes, and rolling down your cheeks, wet and glossy. Besides, you’re an ugly crier.

“Look at me,” he says seriously, finger tightening on your shoulder. You try to steady your breath and calm your tears, before you obey and begin to turn your chair. The simple motion requires so much effort - it’s like the air has become so thick, that the friction against your leather seat slows you down.

Finally you turn to him, eyes first resting on his knees, then, carefully, traveling up to his face. He’s frowning.

Your face is reddened and your eyes are puffy, your cheeks are shiny and you chew your bottom lip in a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay.

Wonwoo looks genuinely devastated. The hand on your shoulder softens its grasp, then begins petting your arm, rubbing up and down. The action has you choking out gasps, trembling even more in his hold, and Wonwoo feels the need to roll his chair closer to you, so his other hand can grab yours. His thumb rubs over the back of it, and he lowers his head to look at you.

“Shh, relax, relax, Y/n,” he whispers, and you try to nod, but it’s so overwhelming; being touched, being seen, being heard, all at once. For months, maybe years, no one has touched you like this - as if they care. Now the feeling is foreign, so scorching hot on your arm and your hand, your body can’t take it anymore. You’re stuck between wanting to lean into his hands, wanting to feel how real you are, and how physically true your existence is, and wanting to shy away. What must he think of you?

“Y/n,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut to banish the sigh of your sobbing. “When was the last time someone touched you?”

You hiccup painfully. “Uhm- I- I don’t, ” your eyes are bleary and your lashes are wet. Your lip trembles and your whole body shakes when you try to breathe.

Apparently this was enough of an answer for Wonwoo, because he suddenly stands, somewhat harshly tugging you into a standing position too, and pulls you directly into the harbor of his arms.

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his torso. His chest is pressed flat against yours, so, so warm, when he nudges your head into the crook of his neck, and presses his face against its side, sighing softly into you, and breathing warm air onto your hair. His palms push you into him, soothing your trembling body, and holding you like an anker. One hand travels up to your hair.

“W-Wonwoo, you don’t have to-”

“Shh,” he quiets you immediately, voice the softest wind of a peach tree. “Just let me take care of you.”

You do. Wonwoo holds you until you stop crying, and though it must’ve been twenty minutes or so, it feels like no time at all. Standing in his space, breathing in his dark cologne, and letting his heat thaw your dead heart is a totally timeless act. Joy and serenity flows from the places where your bodies touch. When you stop crying, Wonwoo holds you for longer.

Eventually, he lets you go.

You step back sheepishly, now much calmer and the red in your face faded. You wipe your tired eyes shyly with your sleeve.

“Thank you, Wonwoo,” you mumble, voice thick and garbled. When you look up at him, he smiles softly, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says softly, arm extending one last time to squeeze your forearm. Then it falls limp again.

“I, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course.”

When you return home, you’re buzzing. Your entire apartment buzzes along with you, things seem to clatter and beam along with the bright, glowing of your heart. You snuggle into bed and nothing is still and even when you’re drifting into sleep, your nerve endings spin in joyful circles, and your feet are a static hum. Suddenly you are very, very real. _____________________________

You’d think the next day would be tense and awkward, and maybe it is at first, but soon enough you’re talking again, more intimately than before even.

This is Wonwoo’s doing - you know this. You know he’s smart and you know he doesn’t want you to feel bad, so he makes conversation and builds trust between the two of you. You know he hopes you don’t feel insecure. Every word he says and every flick of his eyes is riddled with it.

The conversation decidedly slows down your progress, so Wonwoo once more suggests staying overtime. You look at him for a moment before agreeing.

You can’t tell what his end goal is. A chamber of your heart has been revived and rebirthed, and you’re more chipper, more bouncy, but the rest of your heart insists: you’re still cursed - eventually it’ll go back to how it should be. You listen. You try not to get your hopes up that Wonwoo really cares about you. Why should he, really?

Although when you’re done for the day, about an hour after your usual 5 PM, you stand up and begin to pack your things, laptop sliding into your bag and clustering pens in your hand. It’s gray outside, but the sun comes in a single strand through a gap in the smog and the clouds. The wind hoots by the windows, and it smells like the indian you ordered for lunch together.

You stop your packing, feeling a set of eyes in your back. You twist your head to see him.

Wonwoo is sitting completely still in his chair, slack-covered legs spread open, and he makes no move to collect his own things. He just stares.

“What’s up?” you quip. You’re slightly nervous. Just before it was all silly childhood stories, college and weed and life before the dead-end job. Now Wonwoo has that unreadable expression on his face again.

He slowly lifts his hands from the armrest, eyes locked with yours, and claps his palms on the tops of his thighs.

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Wha-”

“Come here,” he says simply. When you stand completely still, like a deer in the headlights, Wonwoo scoffs and rolls his eyes. “What? You think you’re cured because someone hugged you once?”

“Cured?”

“You’re touch-starved, Y/n,” Wonwoo states matter-of-factly, “you need to be touched.”

“Touch-starved?” you echo, a bewildered expression on your face.

“We can also just hug, like yesterday,” he suggests calmly. You envy his collectedness. “I just don’t want you to feel bad. So please. Come sit.”

To emphasize, Wonwoo pats his thighs again, patiently. You step away from your bag with hesitating steps, pursing your lips. Your cheeks blaze when you look at his thighs again - they’re so long, and the folds in his slacks stretch down and centralize on his crotch and- You’re being a pervert.

“Okay,” you squeak and Wonwoo tuts. Why is that hot, you think, why the hell is that hot?

“We can just hug if you-”

You feel bold.

Without letting him finish, you swing your leg over his, and plop down, straddling halfway down his thighs. You thank God you put pants on this morning instead of a skirt, when you look down at where you rest on top of him.

Wonwoo is a little taken aback, but when you’ve settled on him, his hands find your waist and he looks up at you with a hum. Your breathing is a little shaky. Once again his hands provide a pumping of golden joy into your body, and more of you comes alive and becomes real, and you smile.

What had Wonwoo been talking about? Touch-starved?

“What’s, um-” your question is cut off with a gasp, when Wonwoo uses his hands on your middle to tug you closer. You rest on the highest point of thighs that you can without sitting on his dick. Cheeks red and eyes squeezed shut, you hear how Wonwoo hums, pleased. “What were you talking about? Touch-starved?” you whisper, keeping your eyes shut.

Wonwoo sighs, and once more, like the movement is entirely replayed, his hand finds your hair and pushes your face into the crook of his neck. You sigh against it, enjoying how his arms protect you and hide you from the evil of the world.

“If you don’t touch anyone,” Wonwoo begins, his voice low bass in your ear, “you become touch-starved. That’s why you reacted the way you did yesterday.”

His hands run up and down your sides.

“But- but I’m not crying today,” you say quietly into his neck. Wonwoo hums.

“No, that’s good,” he says. “We can stop if you really want, I just wa-”

“No!” your voice squeaks immediately, and, as if he were running from you, you fist his shirt to keep him close.

“Okay,” there’s a smile in Wonwoo’s voice. You can’t see it but you can imagine it.

Comfortable silence. Wonwoo traces patterns on your back and you breathe deeply against the skin of his neck. The two of you function as one living thing, the only living thing left in the office. Chairs are turned halfway, a couple lights are left on. The desks betray the past presence of humans.

“Wonwoo,” you pip.

“Mhm?”

“You don’t have to do this, you know? I don’t want you to do it if you- if it’s just.. Pity.”

Wonwoo sighs, and you feel the way his torso deflates underneath you. He trails his hand up from your back to tap your cheek. You move back and look at him.

Your faces are very close, you can feel how your exhales collide and then scatter, hell, you think you could count each of his eyelashes from here.

“I already told you. I’m doing this because I don’t want you to feel bad. I-” he hesitates for a moment, pursing his lips. “I’ve been there. So I know what it’s like.”

The thought of Wonwoo feeling like this, like you, is sickening. Genuinely sickening, you feel your insides turn to rot and mold and you frown so deeply, you think your lips might forever lock in that position.

“I’m okay now,” he reassures, reading you immediately. His hand finds your cheek and he almost cries out at the way you lean into it blindly.

“How did you-.. I- I always thought it was, like, a lifelong curse,” you say.

“A curse?” Wonwoo grins, thumb stroking over the skin of your cheek. It makes you happy, it makes you feel like your heart will burst.

“Yeah. I guess I just blamed some old woman from my hometown,” you giggle, blushing a little because, yes, it did sound stupid when you weren’t just echoing the theory to yourself, like playing a team sport alone.

“You’re not cursed,” Wonwoo promises, tucking your head into his chest. “I’ll help you, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you from now on.”

He does take care of you.

Every day you work overtime, and every day when you’re done with work, Wonwoo slides you into his lap and holds you, while you curl up in his chest. Then you talk and you laugh, and you listen to each other's music. His hands run warm up your back and in your hair and on your hips, gentle caresses, deeply intimate. For two weeks you and Wonwoo indulge in this nighttime ritual.

You have not felt lonely since that night. And Wonwoo can tell. Your skin is warmer and brighter, you smile wider, your eyes twinkle, and there’s energy in every movement. Your body thaws under his warm hands every night, and sometimes when you smile, he gets so happy he could kiss you.

You realize you like Wonwoo one particular night when you’re falling asleep in your bed and you can still feel the ghost of his arms around you and it lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep, and when you wake up you smell a little bit like his cologne. That’s how you realize. You like how considerate and how gentle he is, you like how sweet he is to you, you like how he looks when he smiles and when he laughs and you like how much he loves his cat. You like how his arms feel wrapped around you.

And you like him, and suddenly your apartment is a song that you dance in, and every photo on your walls is smiling and your bed is always warm and so is your heart.

There’s nothing dead in here, you think, when you cook a delicious meal on the stovetop, sauce bubbling in a stainless steel pan. Nothing haunted about your home or your heart. _____________________________

“We’re almost done.”

“Mhm.”

“I can’t believe we’re almost done!”

Wonwoo looks up, bemused, lips made small and pointed. You’re staring at the almost-done document, scrolling up and down through long and arduous paragraphs. It’s nighttime again - not that you had to stay late today, it was a choice - and the city glimmers brilliantly in the coolness. You and Wonwoo wear sweaters to keep warm.

“Feels like a lifetime,” Wonwoo murmurs, same smile upon his beautiful face. His cheekbones point out from beneath his skin.

“Yeah,” you breathe, leaning back. You won’t put your fingers back on the keyboard. Not when it could be done so soon. You look at him, all snuggled up in a brown sweater. “What if..”

A pause. He tilts his head.

“Well, are we still gonna talk?” you chew your lip dejectedly, feeling a little sad and desperate, but Wonwoo only laughs. It’s a beautiful sound, it’s one you associate with joy.

“Of course,” he says, as his laughter quiets down. “If you want to.”

A shy smile forms on your lips. You turn to look back at the computer, but you hear the now-familiar sound of Wonwoo patting his thighs. You flit your eyes back to him, teasingly scolding.

“We’re not done.”

“We don’t have to be done now,” he shrugs, an equally teasing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes, but, unsurprisingly, you shift over to him, sitting down in his lap. He immediately tugs you closer, fingers searching for stimulation on the seams of your jeans. There’s something different about Wonwoo today, you realize, his touch is more feverish, his fingers dig deeper into the fat of your hips and he looks up at you like you’re a diamond-encrusted chandelier, hanging from the ceiling, all glittering jewels.

“What’s up?” you giggle nervously. It’s becoming hard to breathe with the way he paws at your hips.

There’s something in the air between you, but maybe you’re imagining it. Maybe it’s your mind playing tricks on you, concocting the magnetic pull that lingers between you, the thicker, heavier air, that urges you closer.

He sighs heavily, as if he was dreading this. All of a sudden composed, cool, icy Wonwoo is chewing his lip and avoiding your eyes, looking instead down where your fat gives way for his needy fingers.

“I, uh, I really like you, Y/n,” his voice shakes. “Would you. Maybe. Want to go out some time?”

At the last syllable his gaze locks on to yours, and you watch him visibly relax, because you’re fucking grinning.

Not maliciously, not crudely, not a dime or a dab of evil, only genuine joy.

“I-I would like that,” you control your smile, pointing your lips in the same way that Wonwoo does and blushing all over. Wonwoo grins too and it’s unbearably boyish.

“Okay,” he says, as if he can’t believe it. “Okay. Great.”

The window slams shut, the spell is undone by his hand, the dead defy their only law to bow to his necromancy. Wonwoo is alive and warm underneath you, and you are alive and warm on top of him, thighs pushed up against his and tugging at the fabric of his shirt. Your balloon of heart pops in your chest, and the bone-cage of your chest is filled with helium, that has you floating. Rosy and shiny, your heart beats at twice its normal speed.

There’s a lull in the conversation. It would’ve been a more comfortable silence, if you couldn’t see by how Wonwoo looks down and purses his lips, that he’s itching to say more.

Sparked by his confession, you confidently snake your hand up to tap his cheek lazily. He turns to you with a loafy smile. “What is it?”

He breathes out unsteadily.

“You’re-” he closes his eyes. “There’s so much I like about you. It- It makes me feel really bad that you weren’t feeling well, so I-”

He cringes at himself, one hand pushing away his glasses to rub the eyes underneath them.

“Can I make you feel better?” he asks vaguely.

You huff out a laugh. “Are you trying to ask if I want to have sex?”

He laughs too, behind his big hand. “No. It’s not the same, I want it to be about you!”

You laugh more, and Wonwoo’s face reappears as he lowers his hand. He looks up at you adoringly, dotingly. He’s smiling.

“I’m being serious,” he says quietly, when you finish. He seems less embarrassed now, more so smug. “I want to make you feel good.”

He’s paying an awful lot of attention to your hips, which he has not let up massaging and squeezing roughly.

“Can I..?” he begins, eyes fixed on your hips in his lap. “Can I make you cum?”

Then, slowly, Wonwoo lifts his hands and gently places them around on your face. His touch is always as soft as a hope-laced wind. He’s warm and he’s alive and he’s holding onto you, and you see it in his eyes: you’re real, you’re right underneath my fingertips.

“Please.”

That’s all he needs, before he presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is everything you want it to be; because it’s loving. It’s slow, it’s deep, it’s gentle, there’s no tongue, just the soft, warm, real, alive flows of his lips against your own. His hands on both of your cheeks caress your cheekbones gently, and warm air is spilled in the small space between you. He pulls away, panting.

“I don’t understand it,” he mumbles, before he’s pressing his lips back to yours hungrily. You let out a confused hum, and you have to gently push at his shoulder to back him off again. “What do you mean?” you ask.

“Why you were so alone,” he breathes, transfixed on your lips. “I want to be with you all the time.”

Before you can respond, Wonwoo grips the underside of your thighs, lifting you and himself from the chair and placing you on the desk. You gasp at the impact when the glass table meets your bottom, and Wonwoo is standing over you, suddenly so tall and so broad, and slimming at the waist. His narrow eyes become hooded behind the reflection of his glasses. His head is tilted down to meet yours.

“Can I take off your clothes, pretty?”

You don’t answer, only grip the edge of your shirt, tugging it over your head, so your bra-clad chest is exposed to him. He groans at the sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, nimble fingers dancing across your back to unclip the bra, sucking in a harsh breath the fabric becomes loose, sliding down your arms. “Such a pretty girl.”

“Stop,” you whisper, face warm and red. Your heart has never beat this way. It’s utterly unbearable and addicting at the same time, it’s without rhythm or class, it’s wild. And it’s because he’s looking at you and it’s not just lust. It’s adoration. There are deeper strings to the make-up of his eyes, there are lines connected to his heart, and he’s all flushed.

“What?” he asks. “I’m just telling you the truth.”

Wonwoo throws your bra on the floor next to him, hands finding the hem of your pants. “Can I take your pants off?”

You nod, still so shy and abashed, because Wonwoo’s eyes feel like a pink spotlight, and you are bathed in its warmth. He unbuttons your pants and you gently slide off the table to work them off your legs.

“Your panties are cute,” Wonwoo remarks (it should feel lewd, but he has a hand on your hip, that brushes the bone and he smiles at it). “Thank you,” you breathe, before you’re taking them off too.

Wonwoo doesn’t need to, but he still insists on gently lifting you back onto the table, and he kisses your nose when you’re sitting before him. He’s standing in between your legs, and then he’s looking down at where wetness drips onto the glass table.

His hand slides down your stomach, resting on the fat of it. He’s smiling, he’s so gorgeous, because he’s smiling the most gentle smile at how wet you are and how it leaks onto the table and his hand is so warm on your stomach, doing nothing, yet turning you on even more than you’d ever been before.

He sighs like he’s carrying the greatest burden on his broad back. “You’re so pretty,” he says, almost exasperated by it. He pinches some of the fat of your stomach between his fingers lovingly. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

Then the hand on your stomach slides down further. His large, veiny hand cups your pussy, the tips of his fingers just barely teasing your hole. You whimper against him, hands finding his biceps for support. Wonwoo studies you, craning his neck down to peer at your face, while his fingers begin swaddling your folds.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles, trying to catch your eye where you bury into his chest. One finger dips into your hole, penetrating slowly and settling knuckle-deep.

“Wonnie!” you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Mmm, clenching down on Wonnie’s finger so hard. My beautiful girl.”

He begins pushing his finger in and out of you, pace slow and torturous. His other hand slides up and down your body, squeezing your waist then your thigh, then coming right back up to fondle your chest. He pushes your back flat against the glass, so you’re all splayed out for him and you watch him from there, eyes hooded and legs spread to accommodate him. He breathes in shakily at the sight of you.

“Shit, Y/n. What were you doing hiding all this from me?” His finger picks up the pace, as another finger slips in alongside it. You’re moaning and panting, lips red and hair mussed, unable to focus on his words, when his fingers curl against that spongy spot inside you. Apparently Wonwoo expects an answer though, because he speaks again, voice lower and rougher. “Hm? You didn’t want to go have lunch? What, was it that guy?”

“W-What?”

“Just some guy,” Wonwoo echoes your past words, emphasizing with a harsh thrust of his fingers.

“N-No, I- Hng!” you cry out, when Wonwoo’s thumb presses onto your clit. He rubs it torturously. “I-I was embarrassed because I- I was thinking about you!”

“Oh?” this catches Wonwoo’s attention, as he diligently works his hand within you, staring down at your naked form, fully clothed and tall. “Tell me what you were thinking about, baby.”

“This!” you cry out, too high off the pleasure to really feel embarrassed about it.

“Pretty, sweet, dumb baby. You were thinking about you whimpering and writhing while I fuck you with my hand, hm?”

“N-No,” you mumble, cheeks aflame. “W-Was thinking about you l-liking me.”

At this Wonwoo hastily leans over you, pressing his lips onto yours again, and this time his tongue pries open your mouth, wet and warm in the cavern of your mouth. You moan into the kiss, hips canting into his hand. There’s something so desperate about him then, something so eager in the way he crooks his fingers, and how he kisses you, panting and covering your face in warm air. You feel a tight knot in your stomach.

“Cum on my fingers, please, pretty, sweet, baby, darling,” he mumbles into your mouth, rushing out the words before he’s sealing your lips again.

“God, I think I might fall in love with you.”

That makes you cum. You cum so fucking hard, clenching around his fingers like an air-tight seal, and your cum spills onto his fingers and his name spills into his mouth. The curse comes out with it, escaping like the air that spills out from an ancient, rediscovered chamber, and dissipating into the night. Your heart is beating and you’re breathing into his mouth, nose brushing his.

“Good girl,” he breathes, finally releasing your lips and letting his lips fall heavy and wet on your cheek.

He pulls out his fingers, unbearably wet and slick, and you think for a second that he’ll let you calm down and then maybe he’ll put his dick in you, but as soon as the fingers are out of you, they’re settling back on to your clit, rubbing heavy-handed circles.

You whine, arching your back off the table and wiggling your hips at the overstimulation. His other hand catches your hip and he shushes your cries softly.

“You can cum again, can’t you, baby? You can take it,” he says, so nonchalantly, while his slick fingers rub you. You cry out. Your legs are shaking. “Think you can cum again from just this?”

“Y-Yes,” you sigh and when you look down, his entire hand covers your pussy, as he pets your clit in circles. He smiles at your words, pinching your clit teasingly. It causes a squeak to escape you, hips struggling against his hold, where he pins you to the table.

“Good girl,” he praises, purring. “Letting me use your pretty pussy like this, letting me make you feel good.”

His body in front of you prevents your legs from closing, but, God, do they try, knees pinching his thin waist, and hair bunching up on the glass when your face scrunches up in pleasure.

“A-a-ah!” you cry out. Your hips involuntarily begin to inch away from him, but Wonwoo pulls you back with one strong hand, tutting.

“Don’t do that,” he mutters, pouting. “You need to be touched, remember?”

The whole thing is so heart-achingly intimate. The way he stands, still fully clothed and with a huge fucking tent in his pants, simply rubbing your pussy and looking at you with heart-eyes. Seriously, eyes swimming with adoration for you, teasing words slipping from his mouth unable to mask the genuine wonder he feels, at how you gasp and you arch and you clean and you jerk from the simplest of his movements. And your pussy is so warm and wet under his hand, and his body between your legs is so warm, and you cum again from just that; from how much love he looks at you with, and from the fingers crooking to pinch your clit again, wet and swollen underneath his glistening fingertips.

“W-Wonwoo!” you cry out, cumming again, and your body convulses around his, when it oozes out of your hole. Wonwoo’s fingers gently work you through it. His gaze on you is so intent, so careful and insistent, you can’t bear it, the way he sees you totally lost in the pleasure he brings you.

“There you go,” he whispers gently, fingers letting up and disappearing from your pulsating pussy.

“Wonwoo,” you mewl tiredly, pushing yourself onto your elbows to look up at him. He looks at you, so sweetly, so attentively, hands immediately finding your back to stabilize you. “Can I please have your cock now?”

“We don’t have to-”

“I want to!” you interrupt him, brows furrowed and lips in a pout. Wonwoo grins at that and though he may deny it, you don’t miss the red that twinges his cheeks.

“It’s just if you were too tired..-”

“I’m not,” you say decidedly, and Wonwoo nods.

“Okay. C’mere then.”

You’re confused when Wonwoo sits back down in the office chair, fingers working his slacks open. He doesn’t answer to your grimace though, only manages his pants unzipped and in one lift of his hips, peel both them and his boxers down.

His cock springs free, and your confused grimace is replaced with one of awe. It’s pale and veiny, the head is red and thin, white liquid oozes from it, like melted candle wax. And it’s huge.

You’re too slow to mask your amazement, it seems, because when your eyes return to his face, he’s already looking at you, smiling smugly.

“Come ride me, baby.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You slide off the table eagerly, lumbering over to where he’s relaxed against the back of the chair. He looks up at you, all naked and pretty, with a grin.

The top buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned, but he must’ve given up halfway. Either way, the milky plates of his chest are exposed, shining gloriously in the warm office light, and he discards his glasses, face fully exposed to you. He’s beautiful, and you think to tell him.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, planting each leg around his, so you’re straddling him. Like your ritual, Wonwoo grips your middle and pulls you closer, but this time it’s even closer than normal. Your stomach meets his dick, all heavy and hot on your skin, and your breath hitches at the sensation.

“You’re beautiful,” he teases, looking up at you. You smile.

“Can I put it in?” you ask.

“As if the answer was ever gonna be no?”

You snort out a laugh, raising yourself by your thighs and gripping the base of his dick to steer him inside. He hisses at the feeling of your hand grappling with his impressive size, and he hisses once more when the head of his cock buries into your heat.

His hands on your waist anchor himself while you slowly sink down, until he’s so fully sheathed in you, you think the tip of his cock must be brushing your heart, because it feels like it’s swinging in your chest.

“You’re so big,” you whimper, clutching his broad shoulders, and scrunching the fabric on top of them.

“Don’t say shit like that, I’m gonna cum, babe,” he grits out, fingers bruising your waist. You mewl, clutching his shirt. Then you begin to bounce.

Your thighs flex on either side of him as you heave up and down his cock, the both of you gasping into each other, and clutching each other for stability.

“Shit,” he pants out, genuinely out of breath. “Fuck, you’re the loveliest girl in the world.”

You cry out, pressure already welling in your stomach and burying yourself in his neck like you’ve always done, and it’s so intimate and he’s warm, and, fuck, he wants you. You can feel it in his grip, in his cock, in his words; he wants you more than anything. The thought makes you wanna cum.

Wonwoo is not quiet at all. He grunts and whines and his words are strangled and garbled, but frequent, showering you in affection and praise, while you bounce eagerly on his huge cock.

“You’re so pretty, baby.”

“Your tits are so perfect, shit.”

“Pretty girl.”

“Loveliest, prettiest, sweetest girl, bouncing on my cock, fuck.”

Praises spill from his lips in purrs, one after another, and when you cum you can’t help but return it tenfold.

“Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonnie, fuck! Gonna- fucking cum, I think I’m- f-falling in love with you”

You and Wonwoo come alive. Cum spurts from his cock and into your pussy, and you both cry out, entangled and completing one another in the space where you meet.

And it’s true, falling in love with him is so easy. And falling in love with you is easy too, you realize, because the second he’s spilled his cum in you, he pulls you from his neck to kiss you so deeply, so thoroughly, you think your lips might never unpuff from his hasty, bitten kisses.

His cock, now soft, still inside you, his warm chest against yours, his nose nudging yours, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin, the kiss is totally perfect, and you’re warm, and the windows are all closed and fogged up and there’s no curse other than the most fatal and most perfectly tantalizing of them all: love.

You are not alone. You’re sitting in his lap and you think if you give it a day or two more, you might want to spend the rest of your life with him.

You catch your breaths.

“You’re really good at that,” you say finally. He grins again, perfectly undone, hair tousled and cheeks flushed. “Yeah?” he asks. You hum.

After some minutes of keeping him inside you, kissing lazily, running your hands over his pretty chest and arms, you pull back, beginning to flex your legs to pull him out of you.

“What are you doing?” he asks, hands wafting to still your movements. You furrow your brows, confused.

“Am getting your dick out of me?”

His hands sink down on your hips heavily, fully encompassing his dick again. You sigh at the feeling.

“Don’t do that, silly. You’re touch-starved, remember?”

He tilts his head teasingly.

“So why don’t you just sit snug on my cock, so you can get all the closeness you need?”

#jeon wonwoo x reader #smut #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #svt angst #wonwoo angst #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you

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kujoestars · 3 months

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The Mechanism of Kafka's Transformation and How It Affects Him

(Crossposting my analysis/theory from Reddit. Also, warning: this post contains both anime and manga spoilers so beware if you are anime-only)

So, something that drove me nuts about the manga's version of the X-ray scene was the fact that there was literally no difference from a normal human chest x-ray. The anime THANK GOODNESS fixed that:

We finally know exactly how Kafka's core looks while he's in human form. It appears to be primarily occupying where the chambers would be with a good amount of myocardium (the heart muscles) suspending it while also continuing to function as a heart.

Notably for me, there's actually a translucent hemicircle up top there where it's supposed to connect to the aorta. In fact, you can see the core is translucent on its left (our right) side while more opaque to its right (our left).

Let me highlight it for reference I hope y'all appreciate the fact I had to do it with a mouse on MSPaint because Reddit won't save images to drafts and I can't drop images from tablet like on desktop:

It appears that Kafka's heart was fully converted and the tissue there is just a facsimile since it appears to be forming a pouch for the core to nestle in.

The anime's expansion of the scene the Mysterious Larva/Young Yoju fused with Kafka ended up perfectly tying in to this. Something I noticed was that Kafka was not actually transforming for most of it. Initially he was clutching at his throat where it entered:

Then just before the transformation started (when his eyes started glowing), he was clawing desperately at his chest:

For reference to anyone who's never studied anatomy, the mid-esophagus is actually resting against the heart, which is why the best form of imaging for the heart is a transesophageal echocardiogram (i.e. stick an ultrasound down the esophagus), which works like in this diagram:

In other words, the Larva's target was his heart and it was burrowing into it from that point. Which is consistent with where Kafka was clawing at in the shot I posted before and why after the change completed, his hand was resting just above that area:

Basically, the theory I have been saving specifically for after this episode is: Everything about Kafka's body is tied to the core.

Yes, that was obvious since we saw him regenerate his entire body from just the core, but what I'm saying here is that that the heart was the only thing the Larva was trying to fuse with. The rest of the body followed instantaneously once the heart became a core. Kaiju cores appear to be storing a lot of energy, so it would fit in with why even the initial change could happen so rapidly. It was a large burst of energy that had Kafka's cells all convert and restructure, and we even see steam coming both off and out of him here in the anime.

All future changes seem to be purely a matter of him controlling every cell in his body like individual muscles or even like how cuttlefish and octopi are able to change their appearance in an instant from muscle contractions and chromatophores.

In other words, the evidence has stacked to full OVERKILL that Kafka is truly a kaiju that can shapeshift into a human rather than the reverse like he and everyone else prefers to think.

Which leads me to my big pet theory right now: the reason Kafka is losing his ability to revert to human form is because he's becoming malnourished. I won't stack the image evidence since I've already done enough and the focus is on the core and Kafka's real biological nature now (I'll save that for a future post, lol), but it only stands to reason that if Kafka is physiologically a kaiju regardless of form, that means he has the metabolic needs of a kaiju.

He was only fine before because he had a lot of extra body fat as reserves and didn't use his kaiju form much. But after entering the Defense Force, he's been in multiple situations where he had to push himself while transformed and consume much more energy. If you pay attention to his body type, you'll notice he's been having quite a bit of weight loss.

Sure, he's been training a lot too and eating better, but following the fight with Isao, he's becoming abnormally thin. Maybe not enough for people to immediately think he needs a sandwich, but as of the latest chapters, I've noticed he's actually pretty lanky now even in kaiju form when previously Kaiju No. 8 was built like a bear.

You could argue it's just art evolution EXCEPT literally no one else had such a drastic change in body type or AT ALL. I'm pretty convinced this is an intentional transition from Matsumoto.

Whatever Kafka is eating as a human, it's not enough to sustain him long term and so his body is going into power save mode. And since his default is kaiju (why else would he constantly slip up his first few months if it wasn't actually his default form?), his body is losing its ability to shapeshift because it doesn't have the energy to. Malnourishment tends to manifest in a similarly piecemeal fashion irl, so I'm not surprised its first sign is just one spot on his hand.

Such a deceptively simple reason for the kaijufication is precisely why I'm very certain that is the cause. Kafka has a lot of issues with loving and taking care of himself. And this series is all about subverting tropes in favor of common sense. It's not some "inner demon" trying to take over (the Larva actually only did that once because Kafka was both in danger and refusing to fight back what it perceived as another daikaiju); Kafka just isn't taking care of himself as usual!

And there you have it, folks. Finally, a clear breakdown of what exactly the Larva did, how the transformations work, and why the kaijufication may not be as scary as everyone thinks. Or rather....not in the way they think. Someone please feed that kaiju properly!

#kaiju no. 8 #kn8 #kn8 spoilers #kn8 analysis #kn8 meta #kafka hibino #mysterious larva #mysterious young yoju #kaiju

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bananayuyu · 14 days

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Cabin Fever [part 3]

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: fluff and smut (and some angst this chapter)

Word count: 12.2k

Summary: A confrontation, a fainting spell, a jealous Yunho and a weirdly pissy Hongjoong. The morning gets off to a rough start but somehow the day couldn't have ended more perfectly.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, mentions of Hongjoong's family being homophobic/transphobic, vaginal sex, cream pie, unprotected sex (it's safe, you'll see)

A/n: Part 3 is finally here! The biggest shoutout in the world to @mingtinysworld, my absolute bestie (I love you so much!!<3). I must give her credit for coming up with several of the things that happen in this chapter. Things get a bit more angsty this chapter but I hope not too much. (Also I refer to Wooyoung as both bisexual and a slut in this chapter but want to clarify that I'm not trying to play into that stereotype!! it's just two things that felt fitting for the character in this story. bi people are no more or less likely to be slutty than anyone else). this chapter took longer than I expected to finish because I've finally mapped out what I want to do for the rest of the series! I hope you all enjoy this part! <3

Linked here is my masterlist where you can find the previous parts. Again let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! (it will be six parts in total if everything goes to plan)

Taglist: @certifiedmoa @pautiny27 @luvbit3z @dawn-iscozy @artistic-rendition

@yeosangiess @drinkingrumandcocacola @smally97 @kierraperkins3 @newworldwritings

@peachyy-jooniee @lucid-galaxys-world

You wake like your first morning in the cabin to the bright hot sun, the storm having moved out of the area overnight. You feel too warm laying in your bed with Yunho wrapped around you; you look down and see you both kicked off your blanket at some point in the night. You roll over to wriggle free, your skin feeling sticky with sweat and your hair feeling matted and knotty. You know the reflection you'll be greeted with in the mirror will be quite a mess.

"Morning," Yunho yawns, stretching his arms above his head, his bare abdomen looking so enticing even first thing in the morning.

"I'm so sweaty," you laugh, yawning as well.

"I know, me too," he says, turning his head to the side to get a whiff of his own underarm. "Oh, god," he says, making you giggle. Leaning over to get a whiff yourself, you stick your nose right into the small patch of hair.

"Mmm, so good," you say, a smile on your face. "I need to bottle that scent."

"What would you call it?" Yunho chuckles, pulling you close to him despite the heat.

"Hmm, something like, tall man with large hands." You laugh at how dumb and simple your response is.

"Mm, with notes of sex god and a handsome face," Yunho replies, a cocky grin on his face. You roll your eyes, but truthfully deep down you find it kind of hot when he gets that way.

"No, with notes of gamer nerd and 'never eats vegetables' actually," you say, teasing him. He reaches down to your side to tickle you, making you shriek with laughter, before climbing on top of you and kissing you, deeply. Immediately it's heated, like he's trying to remind you of everything from the night before, his hips bucking into yours slightly and the pressure on your core feeling so enticingly good.

With a ragged breath you break the kiss, your head feeling fuzzy.

"I'm too hot," you say, half-heartedly pushing him off you, not really wanting it to stop.

"Yeah, I know," Yunho says, his tone again cocky, his mouth moving down to your neck and hands grabbing at your ass and thighs. You giggle and sigh into his movements, feeling yourself already getting wet, your body already craving him. But you also feel so out of it and hungry, and you think of everyone else up and about; Seonghwa will probably be worried again if you stay in here too long.

"Yunhooo," you whine, pushing him off with a little more force, and he relents, kissing your nose as he moves off of you.

"I wanna eat you," he says, his face flushed with lust. You squeal and cover your face in embarrassment; no one has ever said something like that to you in your life. Yunho smiles at your reaction, absolutely loving the effect he has on you. Whenever he makes you smile, laugh, moan, it makes his chest feel full, like he's doing exactly what he's meant to do with his life.

Finally the two of you stumble out of bed, and you rake your fingers through your hair, trying your best to smooth it out. Your hairbrush is in the bathroom and you feel like you could really use a shower, so you decide you'll do that first thing this morning, right after getting some food in you. The two of you head out the door together, not thinking much, Yunho's hoodie the only article of clothing you have on. You rub your tired eyes, your body still feeling weak, but your cramps not present like they had been. You feel ready for the day, hopeful that your body will finally feel okay.

As soon as you enter the living room, you notice everyone's eyes on you. You halt in your tracks; everyone is acting strange and you can sense a bit of tension in the room immediately.

"What's going on?" you ask, your voice a bit groggy, your brain still not totally awake. The room is silent for a moment; you feel Yunho's hand on your shoulder grip you ever so slightly.

"I think everyone needs to talk to you both," Seonghwa says, finally breaking the silence. You turn in his direction, confusion clear on your face. It wasn't like last year when Hongjoong and Seonghwa hooked up, everyone confronted them about it. You knew it was probably pretty obvious what was happening, but you didn't think everyone needed an explanation. Not right now, at least. You turned towards Ari, looking at her with concern.

"I don't have anything I need to say," she says to the room, clearly trying to communicate to you that she didn't share anything, nor does she see the need for this. Her eyes almost seem to be pleading with everyone, to drop the subject, or maybe she just looks worried. Whatever it is, her look sets you on edge, and you step away from Yunho without realizing it, your body instinctually trying to isolate itself.

"Can I not get something to eat first? What is going on?" you ask, trying not to panic. Again everyone is silent for a second, and some of their faces look stony; you're worried that there isn't something you're understanding. "Fucking hell, just say it, please," you beg.

"Did you realize how loud you two were being last night?" Hongjoong finally spits out, making your stomach drop.

"Oh, fuck," you groan into your hands, wishing the floor could open up and sallow you whole.

"Woah, woah. Why the hell are you saying this in front of everyone?" Yunho responds to him, not doing a good job of controlling the anger in his tone.

"Because everyone heard you last night, not just me," Hongjoong shoots back, clearly pissed at Yunho's tone.

"Ari just said she has nothing to say about this," Yunho retorts, his eyes narrowing.

"Okay let me clarify then, every one of us who has to sleep out here on these couches, while the two of you get a private space all to yourselves, we all heard you guys last night." Hongjoong's volume is rising, and you don't know why he's so pissed. But you feel mortified, so shocked this conversation is even happening. "I know it is possible to hook up in this cabin without making everyone hear it," he says.

You've physically turned yourself away from the room, wanting to inch your way into the kitchen but feeling stuck to the floor.

"This is so ridiculous, why are you acting like you've never heard people having sex before? It couldn't have been that fucking loud," Yunho sighs loudly, shocked himself that any one of your friends would even care. You all were very, very comfortable around each other. He knew Hongjoong was one of the more modest of the bunch, but still. He was fucking Seonghwa out in the middle of the forest last night, for god's sake.

"It was, pretty loud," Mingi sighs, his voice much calmer and quieter than Hongjoong's but still laced with tension, as if he's trying to bring the conversation back to normal. "Like someone was watching porn on their phone at full volume, or something." He laughs, obviously trying to lighten the mood, but it doesn't work.

"Oh god, please, stop," you finally find words, running to the kitchen. Ari jumps up and runs after you, wrapping her arms around you as you bury your head into your hands even further.

"Don't say shit like that right now, it's not funny," Yunho says, his face flushed with anger.

"Sorry I was just trying to- I don't know why this got so weird," Mingi replies, stumbling over his words. "I just thought you guys would want to know how audible it was."

"Listen, I'm fucking sorry. I obviously didn't realize, I obviously wasn't wanting you all to hear," you say from the kitchen, shaking with how embarrassed you feel. Ari rubs your back, trying to comfort you.

"Look at how awful you've made her feel. Do you guys feel good about that?" Yunho spits out, his words fiery. Something in you shatters at how protective he's being, and you suddenly gag with nausea, running over to the sink.

"Yunho, no one is trying to hurt her feelings," Seonghwa replies, trying in desperation to keep the conversation from spiraling into a full blown fight.

"What are you trying to do then?" Yunho asks, eyes scanning around the room to catch a glimpse of everyone's faces.

"I think what everyone was trying to say, though they didn't do a very good job I will admit, was that you two being so loud last night made them a bit uncomfortable and made it hard to sleep. And-"

"It made me horny, that's why I couldn't sleep," Wooyoung cuts him off.

"For fucks sake Woo, not now," Seonghwa replies, still managing to keep his tone light. "I think everyone really just wanted to ask you two if you could keep it down going forward. That's all," he finishes, shooting a look in Hongjoong's direction that seemed to say a million things.

"And that couldn't have been said to me privately, by like, one person?" you ask from the kitchen, trying to keep your body from releasing all of yesterday's food.

"I'm sorry honey, everyone was talking about it this morning and I thought it would be better for it just to be out in the open," Seonghwa says to you, like he's taking responsibility for it.

"Everyone was talking about it, how great," you reply, your tone laced with sarcasm.

"You all are being so fucking immature," Yunho continues, his anger still evident.

"Yunho, it's not like we were all giggling about it like twelve years olds or something. But you guys were having loud sex, you really expect that none of us would to mention it to each other this morning?" Wooyoung replies. "My cousins are here, and they don't really know you guys like we do, you know?"

"I get that Woo, and I'm sorry Jongho and Yeosang if it made you guys uncomfortable," he says, looking sincerely in their direction. "But again, why did you all have to confront us like this first thing in the morning?! When you know how awful she's been feeling! This whole conversation did not have to happen this way at all!" He is almost yelling, more worked up than you've seen him in a long time. You feel thankful he's standing up for you, as it seems he's the only man in the room who understands how mortified you feel. But his raised voice and tone are starting to set everyone on edge, you can feel it, and you really, really don't want this conversation to get even worse.

"I'm going to bathroom," you mutter, quickly walking yourself over and closing the door tightly behind you. In the mirror over the sink you finally get a good look at yourself, your messy appearance matching exactly how you feel on the inside. You hair is as knotty as you thought it would be, and you start trying to brush it out, wincing every time you tug a little too hard. You feel yourself start to heave again, so you lean down over the toilet in case anything comes up. The smallest amount of puke leaves your lips and you grimace at the bitter taste, quickly shuffling over to the sink to rinse out your mouth. Sat on your knees on the floor you breath deeply, the nausea having passed now that you're in a room by yourself, blocking out the argument happening outside. You're just starting to think you're feeling better, about to stand up, when everything goes black.

For a brief moment you feel yourself crumple to the floor, the tile cold against your uncovered legs. But then you're fully gone, not hearing or knowing anything.

"Y/n, can you hear me? Are you here?"

You wake to Yunho crouched over you, a hand on your wrist checking your pulse. Your eyes barely open, the light of the room making your head hurt. You try to say something to him but you can't; only a pathetic whimper leaves your lips as you try to wake yourself.

"I'm here," he says, stroking a hand through your hair and rubbing the back of your head where it meets your neck. You've told him many times that it feels good to be rubbed there, especially when you've just fainted, so now he makes sure he does it every time. He sits with you in silence, just like you've asked him to, waiting for your body to fully regain consciousness. It takes a little while but finally you move, opening your eyes more to meet his, curling up your body in his direction.

"How'd it happen?" he asks.

"I like, puked, and then I felt better, but then I ended up here, I don't know," you say, trying to remember everything that had happened before your memory cut out.

"So you were standing?" he asks, very concerned.

"No I was like, on my knees cause of leaning over the toilet to puke. I just closed my eyes to breathe for a second and then I collapsed."

"Did you hit your head?"

"I don't think so," you respond, looking up at him with teary eyes. He looks down and assesses your pupils, pretty sure they look normal in the light of the bathroom. He runs a hand through your hair, trying to keep his breathing normal. But his heart is racing out of control, his panic not subsiding. Not when he found you collapsed in a heap on the floor, minutes after he finished arguing with everyone else. A piercing anger runs through his chest, anger at how everyone acted this morning. It must have made you unbelievably stressed, being called out like that and humiliated in front of everyone. It's probably the reason you're here on the floor now, why your body just gave out on you. His breathing is ragged as he stares at you, as much as he tries to appear calm for your sake. It just can't happen right now, not after everything that happened this morning.

"Yunho, I'll be fine," you say, putting a hand on his thigh.

"I know," he responds, his throat tense, his eyes looking panicked.

"You're scaring me," you tell him, tears forming in your eyes.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. With everything that just happened I was so caught off guard finding you here. I'm so worried about you," he says, tears forming in his eyes as well.

"It'll be okay, I just need to rest," you say, repeating something you've said probably thousands of times in your life, to people around you when you're sick. How common it was for other people to be even more panicked than you, when you were the one actually experiencing the issue. Yunho can read the frustration in your tone easily, and it feels like a stab in his chest knowing that he isn't helping you how he knows he should.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he says, collecting himself and stroking the back of your head again, hoping it's comforting. "Do you want me to carry you to your bed?" he asks.

"Can you please go get Hwa," you ask, not able to hide your frustration with him.

"Of course," he says, sounding almost defeated, and even though you asked for it, it hurts when he moves away from you to go get your other friend. In the few moments that you're alone again you start crying, tears streaming down onto the floor, your body finally starting to release some of it's tension.

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry I didn't realize you had passed out," Seonghwa says as soon as he enters, leaning down to wipe the tears off your cheeks.

"It's okay," you squeak, still crying.

"Why don't I get you to a couch so you can rest more comfortably?" he asks, stroking a hand through your hair. "I can brush out your hair too, if you want."

"It's so bad," you say, groaning.

"Not at all," he says, positioning you to hoist you up, finally standing and walking carefully so he doesn't hit any part of you on the doorframe.

As soon as you exit the bathroom you can hear the arguing, and it makes you grab your ears, wishing you could silence everyone.

"You realize that wouldn't have happened if you didn't talk to her like assholes this morning, right?!" you hear Yunho say, again on the verge of yelling.

"How was I supposed to know she was going to faint!?" Hongjoong retorts, sounding exasperated. "I obviously didn't want that to happen Yunho, Jesus Christ!"

"Dude, you know how fragile her body is! And that she's been feeling terribly the past few days; you probably could have predicted this would be the outcome, honestly," Yunho says, refusing to back down.

"Yunho that's a crazy thing to say," Mingi interjects, sounding almost scared to speak up. "Obviously none of us wanted to cause her to faint."

"Frankly, the way things sounded last night it seemed like she was feeling better," Hongjoong interjects, still on edge.

"Stop mentioning it, it's been talked about enough," Yunho snaps, his voice lower but his anger still obviously at a boiling point. The look he shoots Hongjoong is stern, scarier than he realizes.

"You're the one who came in here yelling," Hongjoong responds, arms crossed over his chest.

"I'm not yelling. I'm pissed at you all because you made her faint," Yunho says, voice still low.

"Will you all please get off of this couch so I can set y/n down?" Seonghwa cuts them off, taking in a slow deep breath. He sets you down gently, placing several pillows behind your back and head to prop you up, grabbing his glass of water from the morning and making you drink some. When Yunho sees the absolute state you are in his anger spikes again; he's seen you like this quite a few times, but never under these circumstances. You'd always been home, close to the local hospital, in your predictable environment. Here it was different, especially with so many people around. He feels utterly out of his depth, but something in him still needs to care for you.

Sitting down next to you he grabs your hand, brushing his thumb along your palm in small circular motions. He wants to apologize a thousand times over, wants to scream at everyone else, especially Hongjoong, and wants to ask how you're feeling. But he doesn't know if any of that is the right thing to do. He suddenly feels a pang of jealousy, at seeing the way Seonghwa methodically takes care of you, seeming to know exactly what to say and what to do, in every moment.

"Yunho, you're freaking her out," Seonghwa says, moving over to help you drink more water. He takes your hand out of Yunho's, helping you grip the glass, making sure you don't spill on yourself. "If you can't keep calm right now then you need to leave the room."

"How- how am I supposed to keep calm right now?" Yunho asks, his voice shaking.

"I don't know, do whatever helps you. You know, for some people breathing calmly helps, others visualize certain things, others need to cry for a bit, maybe go for a quick run. Whatever works for you," Seonghwa says, feeling frustrated with Yunho but not letting it show.

"I don't want to leave her," Yunho says.

"She'll be perfectly fine in my care, don't you think?" Seonghwa responds, trying not to sound patronizing. Trying really to get Yunho to realize himself that he should take a step back, and give you space. He can tell it's not doing you any good, the way Yunho is acting. Even if it's coming from a good place.

"I don't want all of them near her," Yunho says, gesturing his head in the direction of the other boys.

"It's not like they're going to hurt her Yunho," Seonghwa replies, still helping you sip at your water. Yunho looks at Seonghwa, wanting to believe him. Logically he knows it's true, but he really does worry that something one of them says could make you faint again.

"God I'm so fucking pissed," Yunho sighs out, putting his head in his hands.

"Yunho, stop," you say, your voice almost a whisper as you try not to start crying again.

"Ok, that's it, you need to get out of here," Seonghwa finally says to Yunho, placing his hand on his knee to get his full attention. Yunho shoots him a hurt look, feeling a bit caught off guard. Seonghwa's never told him something like this before, when you were sick. Usually he appreciated having another person there to help. He slowly stands up, walking towards the kitchen to get away.

"Dude, lighten up," Mingi says, slapping Yunho gently on the back in a gesture of attempted kindness. But it doesn't go over how he's hoping.

"Dude, shut the fuck up," Yunho says, making you cringe into yourself. It really does feel like he's coming apart at the seams, and it makes you feel so panicked.

"Alright, fuck, everyone listen to me," Seonghwa says, standing up to face the room. "Look I really don't like having to do this, having to treat you all like you're fucking children, but clearly all of you don't understand how to emotionally take care of yourselves, and your dramatics are making our very sick friend feel even worse. So here's what we're going to do. All of you boys are going to go outside, and finish that game of basketball we started yesterday. With the exception of Wooyoung, because I need you and Ari to stay in and assist me. The rest of you please, go outside and work out your fucking differences on that court, and come back inside in much better spirits and aware of your fucking impact on other people. Okay?" He finishes talking with an expectant look, and everyone knows he won't take no for an answer. Soon they're all shuffling outside, and once they're all gone and the back door is shut, you immediately feel a bit better. The energy of the room is immediately lighter, and you take a big sigh of relief, readjusting yourself to get comfortable.

"Thank you Hwa," you say, finishing the glass of water in your hands.

"Of course. I'm sorry they were all acting like that, I hope I didn't stress you out too," he responds, his voice so gentle again.

"I don't even think that's why I fainted, I know Yunho kept saying that but it's probably just cause my period was so bad. I feel like that's a more logical explanation," you say, the quieter room allowing your brain to finally work a bit more.

"I know, I agree. I've never seen him so scared," Seonghwa says, rubbing his hand along your arm.

"Me too, it was freaking me out," you say, turning to look him in the eye. "Just so you know, we aren't like dating or something. This whole, thing, between me and Yunho, it just started on this trip. And I don't even know what it is. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to talk to you about it yesterday." It feels good to finally get the words out.

"You don't have to apologize. I was pretty sure nothing had happened before, cause I know you would've told me. Believe me, I know the affects this cabin can have on people," he chuckles, making you smile. "By the way, I'm sorry for how Hongjoong was talking to you earlier, genuinely. I don't think it's wrong for him to feel uncomfortable, if that's really what the issue was, but he was being kind of an asshole." Seonghwa looks crestfallen, like he's embarrassed to be apologizing on behalf of Hongjoong.

"You don't have to apologize for him, Hwa. Just because you two are kind of, involved or whatever, doesn't mean you need to do that." Seonghwa nods his head at your words, but his face doesn't change, and it looks like he's lost in thought. "What's going on, why does your face look like that?" you ask.

"Just, I don't know why he was being like that with you two, everyone was talking about it in a funny way this morning. I guess he was being weird all morning, even before you guys came out here. I'll tell you in a minute, just, hold on." He turns his attention to the other two sitting on the couch across, giving you space. "Wooyoung can you please make some quick soup for y/n, something salty with meat and vegetables. And also some chamomile tea please, with a teaspoon of honey?"

"Of course, coming right up," Wooyoung says, climbing off the couch. "Y/n I'm sorry about this morning, I thought it would be just a little joke. I didn't realize it would get so, serious," he says as he crosses the room.

"Thank you, Woo. I'm sorry if your cousins felt weird," you reply, them truly being the people you worried you'd crossed a line with. The rest of you had heard the odd sound or two and talked about sex at length over the years you'd known each other, but those two didn't know you at all.

"Oh, I don't really think they cared, we were all laughing about it last night. I just, I was a little surprised Yunho was so pissed that we were talking about it. I hope- I hope you know we weren't being weird or gross," he replies.

"I know, it is just a bit mortifying though, you have to understand," you say.

"I know, I'm sorry. We will forget it even happened, we'll have a fun day," Woo says, starting to work on your tea, raising his voice so he can be heard from the kitchen. "What do you want to do, after you eat?" he asks.

"Y/n, you wanna put makeup on them? We haven't done that in forever," Ari pipes up from the other couch, her voice also gentle like Seonghwa's.

"Ooh, that actually sounds so fun. If you both are down?" you ask Seonghwa and Wooyoung, giving Seonghwa your best puppy-dog eyes.

"How could I say no," Seonghwa replies, smiling.

"That sounds fun!" Wooyoung replies from the kitchen, busily readying your tea and prepping for cooking.

"That'll be good," you say, breathing in the relief of their good, calm company. "Thank you guys for being, like, normal this morning."

***

After you drink your tea and eat your breakfast, you start to feel a little better. You're clearly still in a weak state, needing to stay sat on the couch, but you have the energy to talk with everyone. Ari had gone and grabbed her large makeup bag from her room, setting out everything methodically on the large coffee table. Everything is organized by product type, and you both begin looking over everything, deciding what you'll be doing.

"Woo, can I put eyeliner on you?" Ari asks.

"Sure, do whatever," Wooyoung responds, honestly just loving the attention. He's always loved when you two would do his makeup, just for the simple fact that he got to spend so much time having someone else fret over him.

"I'm gonna make you look so cool," Ari says, grabbing the shade of foundation she was going to use, and the eyeliner and black eye shadow.

"Okay well if you're doing that, I'm gonna make Hwa like, super feminine, pretty, pink," you say, grabbing your favorite highlighter and the shade of pink lip gloss you think will look perfect on him. "Wait, can I do your hair too?" you ask Hwa.

"What are you going to do?" he asks you. You know he's very protective of his hair, especially since he's been growing it out so long this past year.

"I just want to put it in pigtails or something, not use any heat on it," you say.

"Okay, that's fine," he says, positioning himself in front of you so you can start applying the makeup.

As you both begin the room falls into a comfortable quietness, with only a few words being exchanged here or there. Mostly it's just you and Ari asking each other how a certain thing looks, or asking each other for advice. Having something to focus on that is purely fun, purely creative helps get your mind off your terrible morning, and soon you feel yourself really start to feel better. A little while later one of the boys pokes their head in asking about lunch, but Seonghwa makes them stay outside, asking Wooyoung to whip together something quick and just bring it out to them. He wants to prolong this gentle calm atmosphere for as long as he can, so that you can truly rest up and feel better. And he himself feels relieved from not having to be in the same room as Hongjoong.

"Wait, you were going to tell me something about Hongjoong," you say to him as you gently apply his highlight.

"Oh, yeah, that," Seonghwa sighs.

"What is it?" you ask, looking at him with concern.

"He's just been really distant and cold, all morning. And yesterday things were like, so good, we were having all these conversations, we talked about some very personal things. Each night he's been cuddling me to sleep, like specifically asking me to come cuddle with him. I didn't expect that sort of thing when we came here, but he's been so touchy and so sweet, and then suddenly this morning he was like avoiding me, not sitting next to me, not talking to me. And he was being so weird talking with Yunho this morning too, both of them were in such weird moods. I don't know what to think. I shouldn't like someone who is hot and cold with me, I know I shouldn't. But something, yesterday, there was something that happened that felt almost perfect and I can't get it out of my head."

"I don't like that he was being like that with you this morning," you sigh. "I don't get why he gets that way sometimes."

"It's cause of his family, right?" Ari asks, carefully starting to apply Wooyoung's eyeliner.

"I know they're insane and homophobic, but he's twenty-seven. Maybe I'm being unfair, but he's been independent from them for nearly a decade. And they don't even live in the same city as us anymore. I just feel upset that he hasn't worked on changing more. That was how he was in high school. And he knows all of us, especially Seonghwa, are going to love and respect him always. I know his defense mechanism with his family is to shut himself off from them, but why does he have to be that way with us still?" you say.

"He's clearly all messed up about something," Seonghwa replies, sighing. "I actually thought he'd changed a lot. You know last year after our trip, I was worried he'd be really awkward and avoid the subject with me, but when we spoke about what had happened between us he was very direct and open. He seemed like he was able to really talk about his feelings. So I thought he had finally changed."

"I'm sorry, my inability to keep things quiet last night might have contributed. I truly feel bad, I did not realize," you say.

"Your moans did not put him in a bad mood," Seonghwa laughed, grabbing your cheek reassuringly. "He was fine last night. It was a this morning thing. Who knows."

You nod, not really wanting to talk about it anymore. And it seems Seonghwa doesn't either, nor do the other two, because the subject is dropped. You finally put on the pink lip gloss, the final touch to your beautiful masterpiece. Seonghwa's full lips shine beautifully, his entire face perfection.

"You've got to do more makeup campaigns," you say, staring in awe.

"I know, that first one I did all those years ago was so fun," he says, reminiscing.

"Can I do your hair now?" you ask, giddy. Seonghwa turns himself around, grabbing two small hair ties off the table for you to use. Once you've placed the two hair ties just as you want them you turn him around, taking a look at the adorable pigtails.

"God, you look so good with your hair like that. You are like, the most androgynous person I've ever seen," you say, knowing it's a compliment he loves.

"Do I look pretty?" he asks, twirling for you.

"The prettiest," you say, smiling. Suddenly, an idea pops into your head. "Hwa, you should put on the sun dress I brought with me."

"You think it'll fit?" he asks.

"Oh yeah, it's like stretchy in the back. I think you've worn it before, it's that yellow one, with the pink flowers," you say. "It's in the bottom of my suitcase, if you want to go grab it."

Seonghwa never turns down an opportunity to wear your dresses or skirts, always having loved how he felt in them. As he goes to find your dress in the library you turn to Wooyoung and Ari, who are almost done themselves. Ari is putting the finishing touches on the smoky shadow that accompanies heavy eyeliner, the obvious star of the show.

"This is some of your best work," you say, amazed. A part of you is almost pissed that these two boys look way better in makeup than you do. But more than anything you feel lucky to have people so willing to let the two of you experiment.

"Do I look sexy?" Wooyoung asks, fluttering his eyes at the both of you. It's basically all he ever wants to be called, so you both giggle.

"Of course you do," Ari says, laughing at him.

Just then Seonghwa reenters the room, your dress the only piece of clothing he's now wearing.

"Stop, you look so freaking cute," you say, staring at him in awe.

"Hwa, you should start wearing your hair like that all the time. It looks so good," Ari adds.

"Woo, what do you think?" Seonghwa says, looking at him expectantly.

"Um well, sorry, but you look extremely fuckable," he says, making you all burst into laughter. "You look really pretty," he says, his cheeks looking a little pink even under his makeup.

"Oh, so you're horny again," Ari says, to more laughter.

"I can't help it, it feels like everyone in this damn cabin is fucking except for me," Wooyoung responds.

"You know, there are ways of relieving those pent up feelings yourself," you say, motioning to your hand.

"It's not the same," he grumbles, making you all giggle again.

"Woo it's barely been four days on this cabin trip, are you already that desperate to have sex with someone?" Seonghwa asks, coming to sit down next to you again.

"Oh god don't chastise him, it'll probably turn him on more," Ari says, smirking at Wooyoung. He visibly squirms in front of her, not able to sit still anymore with the current topic of conversation.

"Every friend group needs a bisexual, bratty slut I guess," Seonghwa says, and the room is erupting in laughter again, even from Wooyoung.

"I don't think I'm the only slut in this group," Wooyoung says, shooting you a look.

"Ok woah, I might be very sex positive but I am not a slut, Woo. I've slept with maybe one percent of the number of people you have," you respond, looking at him with mock exasperation.

"But y/n, being slutty is really just a state of mind, it's not about the actual number of people you've slept with. And it seems like a certain someone has turned you into one recently," he says, making your mouth fall open. "I'm not trying to be mean, I swear," he says in reaction to your face. "I'm just glad you two are finally fucking," he says with his full chest, making Seonghwa and Ari laugh hard.

"Ok, so, you're saying you've been wanting this to happen?" you say, laughing and holding out your hands in confusion.

"Well, that man certainly has wanted it to, and I thought maybe you did too, but I was starting to wonder if I was wrong. I was always fascinated, it was like my own little experiment, watching to see just how long two people who obviously found each other attractive would hold out. I was especially shocked that it didn't happen when you moved into together," he says, eyeing you with adoration more than anything, which helps you not feel so exposed by his words. "I know not everyone is as much of a horn dog as I am, but it's not like either of you are asexual, either. I knew it would happen someday," he finishes.

"How did like, everyone else know this was gonna happen before I did?" you ask, remembering Ari's insistence yesterday that he was in love with you, and also remembering Mingi's look in the hot spring your first night. Fuck, he knew too, you thought. Did everyone else know?

"You wouldn't be you if this had happened any other way," Seonghwa says, grabbing your hand.

"I know, I'm kind of oblivious," you say, turning towards him with a downturned smile.

"Only to how magnetic you are to certain people. You've never been able to tell when someone likes you," he says, squeezing your hand slightly. It makes you laugh because it's true, very true.

"My mind is usually elsewhere," you say, making him chuckle.

"I know," he says, and he truly means it. He knows all of the places your mind usually is, good and bad.

"What time is it?" you ask, feeling your stomach rumble.

"Should we let everyone back in?" Seonghwa asks.

"Yeah, I think they should be okay by now. And I'm hungry, I wanna have some dinner," you say. "I feel a lot better, thank you guys," you say giving them each a quick hug before settling yourself back down on the couch. "I think my period is basically over."

"Already? It's been like two days, right?" Ari asks.

"Yeah, sometimes if they're that heavy it's all over that quickly," you say.

"I'm glad it's over," Hwa says, before handing you another glass of water he'd just filled. You sip at it, watching as he walks to the back door to open it, his long lean legs looking gorgeous under your dress. "You all can come back in now, if you want," you hear him say.

As the boys slowly make their way back inside you see they're all sweaty, the sun hot and the air humid from the previous day's weather. Most of them do a bit of a double take at Seonghwa's appearance, and at Wooyoung's too.

"Looks like you all had fun in here," Yeosang says, smiling at Wooyoung.

"How was the game?" Woo asks him.

"It was good, felt good to run so hard. We won," he says, with a proud smile.

"Well you had Yunho and Mingi on your team, so it wasn't exactly fair," Woo responds, making Yeosang laugh.

The two tallest men are the last to reenter, their faces glistening in sweat, Yunho's eyes still looking the slightest bit sullen. A small part of your heart twinges, but you try to ignore it. You want this moment to be a fresh start from the morning, to help everyone back to the fun energy of the previous few days.

"Everyone, look, doesn't Seonghwa look so pretty?" you say, hoping everyone comes with you as you glide towards lighter subjects. "Here, come here, let me touch up your lip gloss Hwa."

He comes down and sits in front of you, and you gently brush the applicator over his lips, his face completely still just as you need it. From the kitchen Yunho watches, your hands on his face, your lips on his temple when you give him a small kiss. He does feel better after playing so hard, but instead of anger he now feels what must be envy; it feels like it's snaking up his back to his neck, threatening to choke him. He will never be Seonghwa, never be what Seonghwa is to you. It's a soul crushing realization.

"Ok, there," you say after giving Seonghwa a quick peck on the temple, careful not to mess up the makeup you spent hours on. "Give everyone a little walk," you say.

"Is that your dress?" Mingi asks him as he watches him walk, everyone cooing out their praises.

"No, it's y/n's," Seonghwa responds.

"Oh wow, it fits so well. It looks so good on you," Mingi says, matter of factly.

You gaze around the room, watching Seonghwa's face light up at everyone's praise, when suddenly your eyes land on Hongjoong. Stood in the corner of the room, nursing occasionally at his water bottle, he's unable to take his eyes off of Seonghwa, and it almost looks like he isn't blinking. His face is possibly the softest you've ever seen it, his eyes looking big and gentle and his eyebrows turned up every so slightly in the middle. He doesn't move a muscle but you can see his chest rising and falling, his body seeming almost unaware of anything. Except for the man standing in front of him in a pretty yellow dress.

Suddenly you're snapped back, to Seonghwa's first ever major photo shoot, the one you and most of your friends accompanied him to, to help him feel confident during such a big step in his career. He was only twenty-one then, only about a year into his modeling career. Thinking back now you all were babies, just getting your starts in the world, nowhere even close to finding your feet and knowing who you were. It was such a high profile magazine, and you couldn't have been more excited and hopeful for your friend, unbelievably honored that he asked you to come with him. Everyone had cleared their schedules to be there.

It was the first time you'd seen just how great Seonghwa looked in a dress, all dolled up. As much as he liked feminine clothes, he rarely wore them himself because he feared judgement. But this space was different; every model for that campaign was androgynous. You had never been in a room with so many people who didn't fit into the gender norms. You all waited patiently as Hwa went to change into his outfit for his photo shoot; the room was giant and full of little changing rooms, and you all lost him in the sea of people and chairs, clothes and makeup. Until he finally emerged.

That was the only other time you'd seen Hongjoong look like this. His eyes went so wide you thought they might pop out. He was frozen, truly frozen then, not a single thing in his hand for him to fiddle with. Then, like now, it seemed like he became utterly unaware of anything else in the room, except Seonghwa. He stood like that for a while, you don't remember how long exactly, but then abruptly excused himself.

This time you think it's about a full minute, a full sixty seconds of him staring, not moving an inch. And you can't stop staring too, at his face, trying to read what it all means. When he finally breaks his eyes away from Seonghwa he catches your gaze, and without a word makes for the door, walking himself back outside. You instantly stand up too, needing answers. As you exit the house you brush past Yunho, your eyes lingering for a moment on the way his shirt is stuck to his chest. You hear Ari telling Wooyoung to walk for everyone too, and when the boys complain that they're hungry you hear Woo tell them to make their own food for once. You head is full, so full of every possible feeling, as you break out into the hot air of the late afternoon. You spot Hongjoong sitting on a log in the distance, and march your way over.

"Can I talk to you?" you ask, not bothering to ask if you can sit.

"Hey, listen, I'm sorry about this morning," Hongjoong responds, looking caught out and overwhelmed.

"You don't seem like yourself today," you say, your voice almost stern. Normally you all let each other be, and normally you feel that's the best thing to do. But after the events of the morning, and your conversation with Seonghwa, you don't feel that way right now.

"Well, I don't feel like myself. I guess I haven't done a good job of hiding it," he says, sighing tensely.

"What's up?" you ask, eyeing him with your arms crossed. He sighs, turning his face away from you, staring off into the trees. He starts shaking his head, not making a sound.

"Joong, I'm sorry, but after the way you were acting towards me and Yunho this morning I'm really not in the mood to be nice. I know you might not want to talk to me about your feelings but I need to know why you were being so weird with us, and with Seonghwa. We deserve to know," you say.

"What does Seonghwa have to do with it?" he asks, still not looking at you, fidgeting nervously with his hands.

"Ok, honestly, just forget me and Yunho, I don't even really care at this point. I know you were being cold with Seonghwa all day, why?" you ask.

"Y/n, I..." Hongjoong trails off, taking in a sharp breath, not continuing. You give him a few moments to continue his thought but he just sits there, making you antsy.

"Okay if you're not going to talk, then I'm gonna make a guess at what's going on, and you can tell me if I'm right or if I'm wrong. You love him, don't you? But you don't want to get involved with him in any real way because you're scared? Or you can't for some other reason? But when you're here you basically treat him like he's your boyfriend, cuddling him to sleep at night, sneaking him outside to fuck the daylights out of him while everyone else is in watching a movie. But it's not just a sex thing, you love him. You see him all dolled up and think he's the most precious thing you've ever seen in your life. Am I right?"

Hongjoong looks up at you finally, looking like he's scared, like he wishes he could run away. But he knows you won't let the subject drop, and maybe deep down, he's wanted to talk to someone about this.

"You have to understand, my family..." he starts, visibly shaking.

"What about them, Joong? What do they have to do with Seonghwa?" you ask gently, hoping to finally coax something out of him. With a huge breath, he finally starts talking.

"Do you remember that first big makeup campaign Hwa was a part of? For that gender neutral makeup line? Maybe a month later, I remember walking with my parents to that corner store by their old house, and there Seonghwa was on the cover of a magazine. My dad started going on and on about how gross it was, men making themselves look feminine, how they all were demeaning themselves and just wanted to be girls and how mentally ill they must be. He was saying it was gross that 'that kind of mental illness is now being treated like it's normal.' He kept going on and on and on, the whole time we shopped. He didn't even realize that one of the people on the cover was my good friend from high school that he'd met multiple times. He didn't even recognize it was Seonghwa." Hongjoong stutters out the words, clearly on the verge of breaking down.

"Oh my god Joong, that's awful," you respond, so saddened that he'd never felt able to tell you this story until now.

"I love you guys, but none of the rest of you understand what it's like to have parents like that. I've spent my whole life wishing I could stop these feelings. It would even be easier if I was attracted to masculine men; I think my parents could get past that a bit more easily. It's the gender stuff they're really freaked out by, more than people being gay. But I can't help that I like guys who are pretty. I- I obviously love him, dude, god I know it's fucking obvious. I can't control myself around him. It's fucking embarrassing. And it scares me, because I'm scared one day someone who knows my family is gonna see me reacting that way to another man and go tell my parents." By this point he's shaking hard, a few tears rolling down his cheeks as he clearly tries desperately to control himself. You scoot yourself over so you're right next to him, hugging him into a warm embrace.

"Let yourself cry, your body probably needs it," you say, holding him tight. You feel his heart race, his body so tense as he clings onto you. You just let him cry for a few minutes, not needing to respond right away. Once he's calmed down a bit you both sit up, but you stay close to him.

"I'm so, so sorry your family is that way, I can't even begin to pretend I know what it's like," you start, speaking gently. "Only you know what is best when it comes to navigating your relationships with them. I'm not going to tell you what to do. But if your choice is that you can't date Seonghwa, no matter your feelings, you need to tell him that. And explain it. If you want to hook up with him sometimes, but not date, you need to tell him that. If you want to date him but keep it entirely secret from your family, you need to tell him that. Obviously he might not like some or any of those ideas, but still you need to tell him. Right now he's just confused, and has no idea how you feel. And he's not the one who has been so awful to you, so he doesn't deserve to be kept in the dark."

"I know," Hongjoong replies, hoarsely. "I'm just, not ready for him to hate me."

"He's not going to hate you, Hongjoong," you say.

"Really? If I tell him, hey, I think you're amazing and I love you and want to be with you but can we keep it a secret from like, most people? Just in case my insane family finds out because I'm scared of them even though I'm twenty-seven years old. How awful would that make him feel?" he asks.

"Joong, if you put it like that with no explanation, yeah he'd probably not feel great. But if you told him what you just told me, I think it would be different. Keeping him in the dark is what's really not okay, and I think you being hot and cold with him is really what might make him hate you," you respond.

You both sigh deeply, looking out across the wilderness. You see a squirrel running across the start of a small trail up ahead, grabbing a nut and darting back again. You wish for a moment that was you. A butterfly flutters low in front of you, briefly landing on the ground and turning around, before flying off again. You feel heavy with emotional exhaustion and wish badly you could fly off, if only just for a moment. Just to have a chance to forget everything that had happened today, to feel free of any burden. You sigh with the knowledge that you know it's not possible, that you'll just have to feel it.

"Dinner is ready, if you want food!" Ari calls from the back door, waving at you.

"We'll be there in a minute," you call back.

***

Dinner brings the refreshed energy you were hoping for, Jongho and Yeosang having cooked up a meal everyone loved. As you all eat and chat there's plenty of laughter, still plenty of compliments for Seonghwa and Wooyoung's makeup. You sit between Seonghwa and Yunho, your favorite spot to be, feeling a lot better seeing everyone around you back to their light-hearted conversation. You see Hongjoong on the other side of Seonghwa, offering him food and bringing him refills of his drink when he needs it. It takes you a while to realize it amongst all the chattering, but the only person who is still being silent is Yunho.

Even when you gently place your head on his shoulder after Ari makes you laugh, he basically shrugs you off. You look up at him confused, because he never really does that. You've always been able to hug him or lean on him whenever you felt like it. You see he doesn't look angry anymore, just very distant. Under the table you run your hand along his leg, trying to be comforting. He lets you for a moment but then grabs your hand, gently moving it back to your lap. As soon as he finishes his food he's off, making his way to the library. Soon you excuse yourself too; your body is pulled to him and you can't stop your feet pattering along the floor, walking you fast to go find him.

You find him standing against the wall, his gaze stuck intently on his phone. You grab it from him, gently placing it on the couch. Grabbing his arms and placing them around you, you pull yourself into his body.

"Stop being weird, hug me back," you say, nuzzling into his chest. Finally he relents, pulling you close, his body tense with something you've never felt in him before.

"What's wrong?" you ask, your voice slightly muffled by his chest.

"I'm- I'm sorry I'm not Seonghwa," he answers.

"What does that mean?" you ask as you turn your head up towards him. He is staring out the window over your head, his look very distant.

"I'm sorry I make you feel worse, not better, when you're sick," he says.

"That was just today, Yunho. Usually you do make me feel better," you say.

"But that's the thing, he knows exactly what to do, even when we're out here away from the hospital. How does he just know? I could never be as prepared as him," he sighs.

"Well, he knew he needed to get me hydrated, which is basically just what they do at the hospital with an IV. So he kept feeding me water, had Wooyoung make me soup. Just got a lot of fluids in me. He knows that stuff because we've talked about it, a lot. I can teach you all of those things too, if you want me to. It's not complicated," you reply.

Yunho takes in what you say but can't find words to respond, instead letting out a quiet groan as he closes his eyes, almost collapsing into you.

"What is it?" you ask, stroking your hand through his hair, his head resting on your shoulder.

"You just, have so much more fun with him than me, don't you?" he asks.

"No, I have fun with you both. Why are you thinking that?" you ask.

"Well just, today, with him, when I came in and you were like, putting makeup on him, hugging and kissing him, you looked happier than I've seen you in a while," he says.

"You make it sound like I was making out with him in front of everyone," you laugh, squeezing him tighter. "Of course Seonghwa makes me happy, he's like basically my best friend. And he takes care of me always, and I take care of him. Of course I was having fun. That doesn't mean I like him better than you," you finish. All you get is a grunt in response, as Yunho picks his head off your shoulder, standing straight again. "Do you wish I'd put makeup on you instead?" you ask, giggling, completely joking.

But then Yunho's face sort of freezes, except for his eyes which look down to yours, and then dart to the floor.

"Wait, really? You want me to put makeup on you?" you ask, genuinely surprised. He had never in his life shown interest in makeup, as far as you knew.

"It looked like it would feel nice," he says, looking slightly embarrassed, his voice quiet.

"This is so exciting," you smile, staring up at him with giddiness. "Can I do it now?" you ask.

"Uh, sure," he responds, taken aback a bit. You let out a squeal of happiness.

"Okay, sit right here on my bed, against the pillows. I'll be right back," you say, marching your way out of the room to find Ari. She is still sat in the living room, taking pictures of Wooyoung's makeup. She immediately goes and grabs her makeup bag at your request, helping you pick out the few things you need. You hug her in thanks, running quickly back to your room. The anticipation is killing you; you just want to see Yunho's beautiful face lit up with a smile again. You haven't seen one all day.

You situate yourself on his lap, your legs straddling his, your hips coming in close contact. You know it's not really necessary, but you're looking for any excuse to be touching him after you hadn't had the chance to all day. You set out the products Ari lent you on a shelf behind his head, slowly deciding what exactly you want to do. He's given you permission to do whatever you please, so you let your mind wander, thinking of what would look best on his high cheeks, his perfect lips. You decide to forgo any face makeup, his skin already perfect as is. As you begin applying some eyeshadow he closes his eyes, his head resting gently on the bookshelf behind him. With his eyes closed you finally feel able to say it, feel able to ask the question that had been dancing in the back of your mind all day, only surfacing now that you two were finally alone.

"Did you have your vasectomy reversed?"

He'd gotten one several years ago, during his last serious relationship. He'd mentioned it to you in passing, but you'd made a point of asking him more about it later. You'd never personally known any man who'd gotten one, and couldn't help your curiosity. He'd explained his girlfriend at the time couldn't take birth control, that it gave her bad mood swings. So he got it done for her peace of mind. Your respect for him grew even stronger that day.

"No. Why do you ask?" he responds, a mischievous grin on his lips.

"Cause you went and got a condom last night," you say, still not even sure where or who he got it from. "I thought maybe that was because you'd had it reversed, or something."

"That was because we hadn't had a chance to talk about safety," he says, gently opening his eyes when you remove the brush from his lid, picking up a different palette from the shelf. "I don't know if you've been sleeping with anyone, or if you've been tested recently. And you weren't exactly in a state to have that conversation last night. I just figured using a condom was the safe thing to do."

"I haven't slept with anyone in like, two years," you respond, picking out the next color you want to apply to his crease. "But still I had my gyno test my earlier this year for like, everything. I just wanted to be sure. And I'm clean."

"Me too," he says, closing his eyes again when you quietly ask him to, so you can continue your work. "I haven't slept with anyone in a while too, but I had myself tested a few months ago. Just to be sure, like you said. I'm all good too." You just smile, a contented haze falling around you at how thoughtful and safe he is when it comes to sex. It makes you feel safe, really safe, with him. "So next time we- if we have sex again, do you not want me to use one?" he asks you. He peeks open to see you nodding, your lips curled up in a shy smile. Your reaction makes blood rush to his dick, your slight embarrassment making his head spin. Deep down he knows you like dirty, nasty things, despite your sweet, unassuming exterior. You probably want him to do unspeakable things to you.

"You want to feel my cum leaking out of you, don't you," he asks, voice low with a chuckle. Your core clenches instantly, all of the muscles of your groin instantly tensing up. You turn your head away from him briefly, unable to hide your blushing cheeks and your teeth biting onto your lower lip. Your core tightening against him answers the question for you, making Yunho even harder. "I didn't realize you liked that sort of thing," he says, a hand snaking up your thigh and coming to rest on your ass. It's now that he realizes you truly don't have anything on underneath his hoodie, and you haven't all day. He can feel the heat of your bare core through his sweats, as you start grinding yourself down on him more, your body taking over control of your movements.

"I like a lot of... things," you respond, your voice breathy with how turned on you're getting. Yunho nearly groans at your words, imagining just how many 'things' there are. He grabs your face and pulls you into a deep kiss, his head still slightly higher than yours despite your position. That makes his head spin too, how even sat on his lap you are shorter than him. He turns his head further to the side, coaxing your mouth open with his tongue, his hand on your ass guiding you to keep rubbing yourself against him. On his tongue you taste the sweet and savory flavors of dinner; you devour him like you haven't eaten in days, like he's your last hope of survival. You feel his dick getting hard beneath you, rubbing yourself along it while imaging it inside you. He grabs you tightly against him, pushing his tongue even further into your mouth, making you feel light headed with arousal. You're trying to keep your noises at bay, trying desperately not to make the sounds that you made last night. You chase the pleasure that grinding against him is giving you, but the anticipation is too much, and you need relief from it now. You push your hips back momentarily, setting down the brush in your hand to yank at his sweat pants, pulling them down just enough to let his cock spring free of the material. You move yourself forward, your pussy already so wet and ready for him. You truly don't want to waste any more time, you can't. You sink yourself down onto him, in one slow, fluid motion, sighing at the relief of having him fully seated inside of you.

"Fuck, baby," he whispers into your mouth, his lips on yours again, leaning himself forward and grabbing you tight so your bodies couldn't be any closer. You moan at how big he is, the feeling of relief also mixing with one of slight discomfort, at just how much you're being stretched.

"I can't move, I need a second," you whisper back, your eyes closed tightly in pleasure. He brushes a hand over your cheek, kissing the other, pulling back slightly to give you the moment you need. It makes him even harder seeing how much you are reacting to his size, another example of how small you are compared to him. He gently rubs a hand along your back underneath his hoodie, doing everything he can think of to help you relax. You're breathing slowly through your nose, clearly trying to calm your body, but your hips are moving every so slightly, your body still not able to stop chasing what it wants.

You open your eyes to look at him, his own eyes filled with lust and adoration, and the look makes your insides melt. But you can't help noticing your unfinished work; only one of his eyes has completed eye shadow, and a small gem at the corner bringing it all together.

"Can I finish your makeup?" you ask him, pouting.

"Now?" he responds, smiling in amusement.

"Yeah," you pout again, wishing it all looked complete.

"Okay," he nods, huffing out a laugh. He anchors his hands on your hips as you reach to grab the palette again, your pussy still so tight around him. He breathes deeply himself now, trying to keep his own desperation from hurting you or interrupting your wishes. But as you start applying the makeup again, your hands brushing gently over his skin, his closed eyes heightening every sensation, he can't help but buck his hips into you slightly, making you both moan instantly. He keeps his hands set on your hips tightly and starts rocking them back and forward, not moving you up and down his shaft so much as grinding yourself into him, the changes in pressure feeling shockingly good. You do your best to keep your upper body steady, as you finally complete the eye shadow on his second eye, sitting back to double check the symmetry. All that's left now is applying the gem, but your little noises and faces have nearly sent Yunho over the edge and he starts fucking himself up into you, holding your hips steady. You hold onto his shoulders, trying to keep yourself from falling as immense waves of pleasure wash over you. You look at his face again, his mouth agape in pleasure, his eyes looking so pretty framed by the makeup you'd applied. But still, the incompleteness eats at you.

"I can't- fuck- finish your makeup if you're fucking me like that," you say, breathless and struggling to get out such a long sentence.

"I don't really care about the makeup anymore," he says, eyes scanning down your body to watch his cock entering you over and over and stretching you out.

"It's just one more thing, let me finish," you whine, using your own momentum to try to slow his movements.

"Fuck, baby, okay," he groans, closing his eyes and breathing deeply to try to steady his rapid heart rate. His cock is throbbing with pleasure now, and with no barrier between you he can feel everything about you, just how warm and tight and wet your pussy is, squeezing down on him. He's not sure how long he can stay like this, but he wants to let you do what you want, so he begs his own body to behave, to deal with it. You shakily grab the gem, the adrenaline in your body making it nearly impossible as you almost drop it. Your body lurches forward for a second when you grab for it, making your core tighten down again and making Yunho feel like he's about to come undone. Finally you dab on the tiny spec of glue, and finally you place the gem on his face, just where you need it. Again you sit back for a moment to check the symmetry, and Yunho eyes your face intensely, waiting with baited breath for the moment he can finally move again.

"Okay, it's done," you say, a pleased smile on your face. It takes Yunho only a second to grab onto your back with one arm, anchoring himself with his other arm to his side. Suddenly you're in the air and then on your back, met the softness of your blanket. Yunho desperately grabs at his hoodie, pulling it over your head in one motion, throwing it to the side as he pulls off his own shirt with just one hand. His mouth is on yours, his chest and stomach pressed against you as he fucks you hard, his cock repeatedly hitting the perfect spot inside of you. Almost instantly your legs start shaking, your orgasm building fast and threatening to rip through you after all of the teasing before. Your breaths become too ragged for kissing, your head turned to the side as you desperately try not to moan like you did last night, not wanting to upset anyone again. Yunho lifts himself up to watch you, sitting himself up on his knees and putting your ankles on his shoulders, still fucking into you hard, the change in angle making your legs start to shake even more.

"Fuck, Yunho," you moan, feeling so fucked out you can't think of anything else but him. It only takes a few more moments and you're coming undone; your legs shake so much Yunho has to hold them tight, feeling the muscles of your cunt flutter and clench beautifully around him. He fucks you through it, loving to see the look on your face and the way you're trying so hard to be quiet. As he feels the fluttering stop he slows his thrusts a little, not wanting to stop too soon.

"Do you want another one?" he asks, his huge hands wrapped tightly around your legs still. You nod your head with a small smile, feeling like you could take him for hours if he wanted you to. "You'll have to keep it down for me then, even if it feels really good," he says, making you cover your face in embarrassment. Once again, your tightening core communicates for you, Yunho able to read you so well. "I know you like it when I talk to you like that," he says, making you squeal into your hands.

And then he's fucking you again, your legs still in the air, the angle making you come again in mere moments, as you bite down on your hand to keep from making too much noise. Yunho can tell your body can take more now, so he keeps going, feeling his own high approaching as you come for the third time in a row.

"God, I love fucking you," he whispers, his throat tight with pleasure. You feel the need for him to be close again, after coming so many times, so you wiggle your legs until he releases them, and pull at him to come down to you. He nearly collapses on top of you as he buries his face in your hair, his ragged breaths resounding in your ear. You bite down on his shoulder, the only way you can keep yourself from screaming, and suddenly you're coming again. So is Yunho, his hips finally stuttering from their diligent pace, his breathy groans uncontrollable as he cums harder than he ever has. You feel his cum inside you, filling you with warmth, making you wrap your arms and legs around him in a giant hug. As you both come down you stay stuck together, your mind a complete haze of pleasure and happiness.

"That wasn't too much, was it?" he asks you, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek and pushing himself up to get a good look at your face.

"Not at all, it was so good," you murmur, smiling wide. "Sometimes my body can take a lot."

"You're so beautiful," he says, staring at your perfect nose and lips and eyes in wonder.

"You're so beautiful," you respond, stretching your head up to kiss him. After a few more lazy moments spent wrapped around each other, Yunho grabs a pillow, tucking it under your lower back before he starts to finally pull out of you.

"Try to hold it in, I've got a towel right over there," he says, making you laugh. As you hold yourself still he darts to grab it, back to the bed in a second to start cleaning you up. As he dabs at your pussy he sees a few drops of his cum have escaped you, dripping down your ass and onto the bed below. It's so hot it almost makes him hard again, as he sits mesmerized by the sight. Knowing that there's so much still in you, that it'll be dripping out of you all night as you both sleep, makes him feel light headed. You're so tired you don't even see, your eyes closed as you nearly drift off already, your body needing rest after your hectic day. He gently moves you to the side of the bed you like, quickly wiping himself down before crawling into bed with you. You both fell asleep wrapped around each other again, his cum slowly dripping out of you and down your leg where you find it dried the next morning, a welcome reminder of your previous night.

#ateez smut #ateez x reader #yunho x reader #yunho smut #ateez yunho

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 7 months

Text

A Village Raising (1) | Yandere Platonic Twisted Wonderland

“(Y/n) do you know why I called you in here today?”

“...no.”

You knew why you were here that’s why you wouldn’t look up from your sparkly loafers Vil had gifted you. You knew after that look Deuce gave you when Grim told him your secret that you’d get in trouble.

Crowley rubbed at his chin in frustration, debating if he should summon the entire staff for a manner such as this. Or perhaps enlist the assistance of the fae in Diasomnia but that came with its own problems. Particularly the problem of their recurring petition for guardianship; saying that they were more fit guardians for you.

“(Y/n), do you remember the fire faeries that keep the school warm in the winter?”

A smile spread on your face as you recalled giving the sticks to the warm faeries.

“Mmmmh!”

“Well there are many other types of faeries that like to live near the school. Like forest faeries, water faeries…princess faeries.”

He watched as your chubby hands wrung together behind your back. Rocking on your feet while looking side to side.

“...Yeah?”

“Yes. And did you know that the faeries will get really upset if their princess is stolen?”

An obviously guilty pout made its way to your face as you sucked on the inside of your cheek.

“...I didn’t know that…”

“Yes…they cry and then they’ll start attacking students…so if you do see the princess fairy you’ll bring her to me first okay?”

“...But shouldn’t I give her to the faeries? Why you?”

“Just bring her to me, okay (Y/n)?”

“O-okay.”

“You can leave now.”

He cringed at your immediate departure, not oblivious to the hug he would have usually gotten. Resigning to sadly watch as you trotting out of the office on little legs to your monster companion.

“That kid’s going to be the death of me.”

___________________________________________

“So how’d it go mini-henchman?”

You crossed your arms and puffed your cheeks.

“Horrible! And it's all your fault!”

“Nyeh?! How’s it my fault that you’re keeping-”

Grim was stopped by your pudgy hands on his snout as you looked suspiciously around the courtyard.

“Shhhh don’t tell anyone else! Meeeek!”

You pulled your hand away wiping the slobber on your uniform as the monster cat stepped away. Pouting with his head away from you, he flicked his tail disapprovingly.

“Nyah! Release me!”

Glaring at him, you turned your head away as you marched to Ramshackle. Grim let his eye follow you before scampering to meet your steps, looking apologetic as you continued to ignore him.

“Y-you’re not going to keep it are you?”

Continuing to ignore him you dramatically turned your head away, blindly walking until you bumped into somebody’s legs. Wobbling a little a pair of hands kept you steady to look up at your obstacle. Towering and, for many, intimidating was Malleus Draconia or to you and Yuuka:

“Tsuno-taro?”

“Horns? Here? In the daytime? That’s awfully weird for you.”

“Hello, little one. For your information, Grim, I do exist outside of the night. I am no vampire.”

“Nyeh!? Coulda fooled me.”

“Tsuno-taro! You have to let me go I have something to do!”

Emerald eyes glinted with amusement as he lifted you up into his embrace.

“Oh, you do now?”

“Yes. So you have to let me go.”

“How about I walk you there, I doubt you’ll feel comfortable walking in those.”

“Mmmm okay.”

Leaning into his hold you relaxed against his shoulder, yawning as quietly as you could. Noticing, the dragon couldn’t help chuckling to himself.

“Are you perhaps tired little one?”

Snapping up you gave him a stern look, scrunching your face up.

“No.”

“No? Not even a little bit?”

“Not even a little bit!”

“Ah, I see. Then it won’t mean anything if I–”

The prince brought a finger up to the bridge of your little nose bringing it down slowly, repeating the action a few times. Entranced by the way you leaned into his touch and closed your eyes in tandem, he fought the urge to keep tease you more. He only stopped when your hands swatted at him and slapped your own cheeks.

“No! No! I am’nt tired!”

Malleus let out a rumbling laugh which had you puffing your cheeks once more.

“I am not. If I was tired I wouldn’t be going to play right now.”

“You are? What will you play?”

“It’s w-ah uh a secret! Yeah, it's a secret so I can’t tell you.”

“Oh?”

“Nope. So don’t bother asking me! Oh or uh-Grim either.”

The monster snorted running ahead to no doubt raid the fridge while Yuu was distracted with their guest. Malleus on the other hand was reluctantly setting you down, further intrigued by this secret of yours.

“Are you sure this secret is safe to play with all by yourself?”

“Yup! I promised Yuu I wouldn’t interrupt your date this time.”

“Date? I was under the impression this was just ‘a hang out’.” You gave a sly smile as you put your hand on your hips.

“Mmmh-mmmh that’s what you say now. But on the wedding day, I’ll say this is it.”

Without another word you skipped into the forest, giggling to yourself as you imagined how cool you’d look on their wedding day. Malleus watched you leave turning to Yuu who was wrestling the cat-monster near the open door.

“Be back before dinner!”

“Okay!”

Malleus turned sending another glance over his shoulder. Perhaps you’d need someone to watch over you. Someone so innocent and small couldn’t possibly be expected not to attract unwanted attention.

___________________________________________

An orange hue decorated the leaves around you as you crawled into your special place. Going deeper into the dark cave you went into the darkness knowing full-well of the light emitted at the end of it.

“Hello, Sparkle-Fairy!”

Just as you left her the princess fairy you had dubbed Sparkle-fairy was reclining on the makeshift abode you had made. With only the clear glass bowl you borrowed from Trey completing your ensemble.

You kneeled down, scooting close as rested your head on your arms no doubt caked with mud and dirt. You tilted your head watching as the fairy did the same before turning away from you. Crowley’s words rang in your head and you did what Yuu had told you to do when you messed up.

“I sorry for keeping you like this…” The fairy perked up. “I just wanted to be friends.”

You removed the glass from around the makeshift enclosure expecting to see the glowing creature fly right away. But instead, the fairy hovered moving closer to your face. The tinkling sound of the fairy’s native tongue rang in your ears, keeping your attention from the other tinkling voices entering the cave.

“I don’t know what you’re saying…but I’d love to see your home!”

The princess fairy twinkled happily before blowing a glittery dust in your face. You sneezed and rubbed your nose before involuntarily yawning again.

Of course with as small and as young as you are it’d take a small amount of fairy dust to put you to sleep. Making you perfectly pliable for what the fairies planned to do. Already snoozing, the fairies would have no trouble carrying off on their princess’ orders. That is if it weren’t for Malleus’ trusted guardian.

“Now now where are you running off to with our little pup?”

Meat Cleaver in hand the retired general was smiling without reaching his eyes. He hoped that with his weapon unsheathed the fairies would have released you in an instant but it seems the princess was insistent on taking you. Who could blame them? A kiddie as sweet as you would have been a lovely find but he wouldn’t let his pup be taken from him.

Some chopped wings should be a good warning.

He did just that and they settled you on the ground before his feet, twinkling apologizes all the while. In an instant, they were on their way carrying their injured companion along with them. Lilia smiled at your sleeping form cradling you despite your dirt-covered state, he couldn’t help but smirk at the distant glow of green.

Young fae nowadays don’t seem to know not to mess with a dragon’s treasure. Let alone Night Raven’s as a whole.

“Yahoo, guess who fell fast asleep while making mud pies?”

“Aww thank goodness. It got so dark out I was so worried if it weren’t for you guys—”

“All in a day's work, prefect.”

“Yes, it was no trouble.”

Ah, Malleus has returned. And so soon. He figured he must have been merciful. Or maybe unusually giving.

_______________________________________

“So these are the fairies who tried to take them?”

“Master Malleus said so! You dare doubt him?!”

“Of course not I just figured the lizard would be so worked up he wouldn’t leave any for the rest of us.”

“You were lucky his mood has been immaculate since he’s fulfilling an invitation from the Ramshackle Prefect.”

“Whatever. Now should we pluck their wings or break their legs.”

“Only this once I’ll be following your lead.”

“Hmm alright then, Eyebrows. Let’s get to work.”

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere twisted wonderland #yanderes #yandere #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #platonic yandere x reader #platonic yandere #platonic yanderes x reader #platonic yanderes x child reader #yandere platonic #yandere platonic x child reader #yandere platonic twisted wonderland #platonic yandere twisted wonderland #platonic yanderes

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familyvideostevie · 8 months

Text

a kind of hunger | chapter 2

joel miller x fem!reader

series masterlist

an offer from your employer sets your life on track and throws it into a new kind of chaos at the same time. where does joel miller fit into it all?

length: 5.9k

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem!reader, unspecified age gap, heavy petting, joel having a moment with r's tits, hand stuff, dirty talk, painful sex for a second, riding (p in v sex), like a really small smidge of breeding kink, emotional turmoil from r cause what else is she gonna do, some plot! wow! a/n: finally! another chapter. it’s short but i think we’re getting somewhere. Let me know what you think! huge thank you to @macfrog for your eyes and for keeping my sanity in check and @bageldaddy for teaching me how to use commas, letting me borrow your bar, and telling me to just “slutty hallmark it.” this is for you guys.

navigation | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗴𝘂𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀

---

Bill’s offer costs you one night of sleep and that’s all.

Taking over the bar goes against every rule you've had for yourself up until now, everything that’s kept you going and on your feet.

You lose when you stick around. You get hurt when you get attached. Always keep moving.

But your night with Joel seems to have shaken something loose. You’ve got a pit in your stomach, a hunger set alight by his eyes and his hands and his attention. It’s like he reminded you how to want, how to stop letting the world turn under your feet and dig in your heels instead.

And there’s what Bill said, the thing that won't leave you alone. You think no one notices, but I notice. We all notice.

It’s easy to lie to yourself about a lot of things: that you don’t mind this life, its constant movement and instability. That it’s made you crafty. That if you picked up and left right now, you’d be fine. No one would miss you, no one would notice. The names and faces you’ve learned would fade as soon as you found new ones somewhere else.

You’ve been a tight fist your whole life, only hanging onto what can fit into your rough and weathered palm, half-moon crescents bleeding that damn desperate hope you can never seem to scrub off. It means a whole lot of avoiding things that could matter so you can’t lose them, can’t let them slip through your fingers. A family who saw your need for space and control and turned it into isolation and disinterest, who drove you away as soon as you were able to leave. College was a bust. Relationships gone sour have taught you not to rely on anyone. Failed experiment after failed experiment, just looking for something to stick. It’s better to be alone, right?

That tight fist keeps anyone out, anyway. It’s carefully rolled bills in plastic bags in the toe of a pair of sneakers just in case. It’s talking just enough to get you a place to stay, a job, a ride, but not enough that anyone remembers your face, even if you wish they would.

It’s not one big thing. It’s a million small ones. And nothing ever lasts. You never last; always cutting and running before it can get real, before they can see the truth of you and find it lacking.

You’ve been looking for the missing piece for years now, the thing that will make you feel like you’ve finally made it somewhere where you’re needed enough to stick around. Where you can stop quitting, where you can put down roots. Where you can be wanted.

You just aren’t sure it’s possible. You’ve done so many things, seen so much, that you feel like it’s too late to be anything other than this.

It’s easy to believe all of that until someone like Joel sees through it – until someone like Bill tells you none of it is true.

Fuck it.

You call Bill the next morning and tell him you'll take over Frank's.

According to him, the turnaround will be quick. He'll have someone "official" draw up the paperwork. You tell him you won't change the name. You tell him you will make some repairs, fix the cracked vinyl booths, and give the floors a refinish, and –

"Do whatever the fuck you want," he grumbles over the phone. "It's your bar."

It sure is.

You own something, now. You belong somewhere – even if it’s just because you have payslips to sign and counters to clean. But maybe this time, if you try hard enough, you can get it right.

You have a meeting to tell the staff that you’re taking over. There are only five of you – two college kids from a town over, the guy who works part-time at the garage by the highway, and an old butch called Pat you find vaguely frightening who’s been working here longer than you care to ask.

It’s probably the first time all five of you have been in the same room. None of them seem disappointed in Bill’s retirement, and they’re on board with your plan for renovations. Especially after you assure them they’ll be paid even if you close for a bit to get it all done.

Joel doesn't come in. You notice, but don’t spare it too much thought. You can’t because the bar is a fucking nightmare all week.

The keg lines keep blocking, the jukebox dies a sudden staticky death, and some asshole scratches the pool table hard enough to tear up the felt. Everyone and everything is pissing you off. It’s an effort not to spend all of your breaks on that milk crate in the alley with your head in your hands.

It feels like Frank’s is hazing you. After all you’ve done for it, you feel a little betrayed.

“Why the hell do you think I’m retiring?” Bill says when you call to bitch about it. “This shit is a fuck ton of work.”

By Friday, you're at your wit's end.

The rush has come and gone, and now it’s slow. Slow enough that you might be worried, but Pat has told you before that this is just how it is in small towns, sometimes.

That, or maybe your bad mood scared everyone off. Maybe they're tired of the shitty atmosphere, of the cloudy glasses and squeaking stools, maybe they –

You pop an olive into your mouth.

“Chill the fuck out,” you mutter to yourself. No one is around to hear.

The only patrons left are some bikers at one of the back tables playing cards. Their laughter is too loud without the music going. The mats behind the bar are sticky under your boots, and your temple has started to throb. You feel like locking yourself in the office just for the silence.

The air shifts when Joel steps inside.

The hunger you feel is a familiar fire, coals that stoke themselves and never go out. Lust, infatuation as you take in his broad shoulders and grey-streaked hair. You’re strung out and a fuck might help.

But there’s also a weight in your chest at the sight of him, one you haven’t felt in a while. It sits heavy above that smoldering flame in your belly, a bruise you can’t stop yourself from pressing on.

Maybe part of you expected him to stop coming in after you fucked. Regardless of how it made you feel, you’re just some woman who serves him two fingers of liquor when he wants to run away from his life. Just someone who gave him one good night and nothing more.

But this weight – this big, thorny emotion that looks like affection and attachment and something real – you don’t know what to do with it.

It’s never been this way with a one-night stand. Yeah, you know the weight of him above you, inside you. You know the taste of his sweat on your tongue, the feel of his head between your thighs. That kind of shit usually doesn’t change anything with you, but Joel is…different.

Careful, that voice inside you says.

Joel peels off his jacket and tosses it on the otherwise empty bar, pushing up his sleeves to reveal his tanned forearms. The stool creaks under him and his gaze is heated as it travels over you. He doesn’t bother to hide the fact that he’s looking.

He shakes his head when you hold up the bottle of whiskey.

"Water's fine," he says.

You blink. If he’s not here to drink then what is he here for?

He seems like he always does. Relaxed, like the room was made to have him in it. But you look a little closer, now that you figure you can. The deep scar on the bridge of his nose stands out and his cheeks are a little pink. The temperature must have dropped once the sun went down. His jaw isn’t tense so much as set, determined. He rubs his chin with a flat palm as you fill a glass using the soda gun.

“Whatever you want,” you say.

He looks around the bar. You figure he's taking in the out-of-order signs on the beer pulls, the flickering light pointing to the restroom, maybe even the goddamn ruined pool table.

You pick up a rag and start to clean to keep your hands busy.

“Quiet for a Friday,” he says. "Things goin’ alright?”

You bristle at the implication. It’s been a shitty week, and you don’t need anyone reminding you that you’re probably not cut out for this.

“Fucking peachy,” you snap.

Joel raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t rise to it. "Seems like things are a little tense.”

You swallow a flash of genuine annoyance.

"All it takes is a roll in the sack and now you're a talker?"

Joel isn't phased. He takes a small sip of his drink, rolls the glass between his hands. Nice hands, you think. Hands that felt so good between your --

"Just makin’ conversation," he says lightly.

You’ve always thought you were hard to read – hell, you’ve been told that many times. One of your flaws, people always say, but it makes it easier to slide in and out of places without too much damage. And yet, Joel, a man who has been in your bed once and sits at your bar when it suits him, sees right through you.

Your shoulders slump.

“I’m just tired,” you tell him.

Joel rubs his beard with one wide palm. He moves his jaw back and forth like he's giving you the chance to shut him down, like he’s chewing on the silence.

"Heard somethin'," he says. "Wondered if it was true. Thought I'd ask."

"Are you asking?"

He eyes you, takes another sip of his water like it's a tumbler of amber liquid instead. Like anything you pour him is something to be savored.

"Guess so."

You set the glass down and put your hands on the wood, leaning towards him with your head cocked.

“Are you keeping tabs on me, Joel Miller?”

“Nah,” he says, eyes flashing before they slide down to your lips. “Ran into Frank in the frozen aisle at the store.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

The corner of his mouth tugs up. "Known him and Bill a long time."

That explains why he looks like he belongs here. He's probably been in this room more times than you have. All of the things you don't know about Joel hang in the air between you.

"Does Bill...?"

Does your buddy know you fucked me in the apartment I rent from him?

Joel shakes his head. "Frank told me Bill was giving the place to one of his employees. Figured it was you."

And that’s that. But it sounds like a compliment.

“Well, it’s me alright,” you sigh, slumping a bit. “And there's a lot of shit to do.”

Joel puts a hand on your forearm. It's a light touch, a quick one, but it sends sparks along your skin. A moth to a flame.

“Ain’t no small thing. Ownin’ a bar. Big deal, if you ask me.”

You roll your eyes but pride swells in your chest. He’s right. It is a big deal.

And here you are in your bar.

With Joel, who fits into all of this somehow. You just don’t know where yet.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you,” you say with a smirk.

You want to draw it out of him, make him flirt with you for the answers he seems to want. You want something to sink your teeth into after this week, something to play with.

Something to make you feel in control. And that’s what Joel gave you, last time you saw him. He pushed when you pulled, met your touches and your quips with attitude and hands of his own. You felt alive, you felt present. You felt wanted. And it was fun.

If you’re not careful, you might forget what sex was like without that – his attention, his touch. Your name in his mouth. But now that you’re giving staying here a shot, maybe it’s time to indulge. To reach out and take.

Joel snorts. He leans forward and raps his knuckles on the wood. “Should we toast to it?”

You laugh. “I don’t drink on the job.”

He raises his water glass.

“Alright,” you scoff. “Fine.”

You pour yourself some water and clink your glasses together. Joel’s eyes never leave yours, not when he takes a long sip, not when he sets the glass down. He keeps looking at you with that heavy, unshakable gaze.

It’s unnerving, the way he makes you feel. You’re still tired, still annoyed, but there's electricity at the base of your spine, the embers in your belly. You want to talk to him.

You clench your hands around your glass. You want to touch him, too.

“So,” you say. He’s wearing a henley this time, the buttons at the top undone just enough to give you a glimpse of a peak of chest hair. You swallow and flick your eyes back to his. He’s smirking.

“So,” Joel echoes. “Why’d you take it? The bar.”

You shrug. “Seemed like a good deal.”

“Bill ain’t in the habit of good deals,” he huffs. “He must like you.”

It’s an effort to squash your smile. “I don’t think Bill likes anyone much.”

“Real asshole, ain’t he?”

That gets a laugh out of you. “Well, he’s your friend.”

“Not much choice in a small town.”

You hum.

The noisy group from the back stumble their way to the door, waving at you as they file out into the night.

“Those idiots ruined my pool table on Tuesday,” you hiss, though you smile at them.

“Gotta be pretty fuckin’ bad at pool to do that.” He looks around and realizes he’s the last one in the bar. “You closin’?”

“It’s only eleven, Joel.”

His eyes rake up and down your body. Is he thinking about how he touched you, how you fell apart under him? Heat curls lazily in your belly. He runs his finger around the rim of his glass.

“Damn shame,” he says.

Normally you wouldn’t shut for a few hours, but it’s pretty dead for a Friday and…

And Joel is looking at you like that and you want to touch him.

You don’t mess around with regulars.

You’re already breaking your rules by taking over Frank’s. What’s one more?

The pulse between your legs agrees with you.

“Colin,” you call over your shoulder, stepping back from Joel’s hot gaze. The barback appears immediately.

“Yeah?”

“I’m shutting early. Go home. Tonight’s tips are yours.”

He sputters. “Are you sure?” His gaze flicks to the stacks of glasses behind the bar, the tables that still need wiping down.

“I’ll take care of it. See you next week.”

He just shrugs and turns on his heel. A minute later the back door slams and you know the kid is gone.

You lift the bridge and slide out from behind the bar. Your boots are loud on the shitty floors with no one in here and each step to the door feels longer than it should because of his damn stare. You feel Joel’s eyes on you as you lock the door and flick off the neon BAR sign that hangs outside.

When you turn around, his eyes are dark.

Joel stays on his stool, one foot on the ground so that his knees are spread wide, watching you. One hand rests on his thigh, thick fingers tapping to a tune only he hears. His other arm is on the wood of the bar, stretching his shirt across his broad chest.

When Joel looks at you, sometimes it feels like he’s the first person to ever see you.

“Gotta settle up,” he drawls.

“What, you gonna tip me for water?”

“Not exactly,” he says, words dragging in his mouth. “Got somethin’ else in mind.”

The air in the bar sparks and crackles like one of those long Texas summer days when a thunderstorm looms like a threat. The electricity of it crackles down your spine, turns it molten, turns you dangerous. It’s never felt like this before with someone you’ve slept with. Just being close to him is enough to kick your pulse into gear. You feel hyper aware of every part of your body as he looks at you like you’re offering him something better than what you can pour.

Which, you guess, you are.

“And what would that be?”

He hums.

“C’mere.”

You can see his cock straining against the front of his jeans.

“Bossy,” you say. “That for me?” You jerk your chin towards his lap and take your time walking back to him.

He smirks. “You wanna go upstairs?”

As soon as you step between his knees, the hand on his leg moves to your hip. Two fingers sneak under the waistband of your jeans to find bare skin. You brace yourself with one palm on his thigh, another on his neck, and thread his soft hair through your fingers.

“I don’t see why we have to,” you say slowly, watching him carefully. “No one’s here. And I know the owner. She won’t mind.”

The hand on your hip slides further back and his fingers press hard into the swell of your ass.

“Oh, that right?” he chuckles. “Well, as long as we ain’t breakin’ any rules.”

You’re not sure who moves first. You’ve got a few inches on him by being on your feet so you pull him towards you just as he surges up and your mouths meet sloppily, hungrily. Joel tugs you closer and you dig your fingers into his thigh as he swallows your giddy laugh, his beard scratching your skin deliciously.

You’re going to fuck him. In your bar.

“Somethin’ funny?” he asks, lips trailing over your jaw. He’s got both hands on you now, one on your ass and the other on your hip, holding you like he expects you to disappear.

“No, not really–” You cut yourself off with a gasp when he nips your pulse point. “Joel.”

He kisses you again, licking into your mouth. You remember the sounds he made in your apartment and tug on his hair. Joel’s moan is your reward. You press close and grind your hips against the hardness in his jeans and he growls.

“Hard as a rock the second I step in this damn place,” he says, holding you there. You pull back to see his lips spit-slick, his pupils blown. Seeing him undone like this by your touch is just as thrilling as it was last time. His teeth scrape down your neck and he unbuttons your jeans.

“Sounds like a – ah – you problem.”

Joel’s fingers drag through the curls above your cunt before he goes where you really want him. You gasp against his temple when he circles your clit.

“Seems to me I’m not the only one,” he rasps.

The fingertips on his thigh become nails digging in even harder when he slips one finger inside you.

“Gonna leave bruises, sweetheart,” Joel says. Your cunt clenches around him. “You like that? Markin’ me?”

“Maybe I do,” you groan. “You left some last time.”

The angle can’t be ideal but Joel fucks you as best as he can with one finger, then two. You drag his face back to yours and suck on his bottom lip, tugging his hair all the while. Every part of you feels like it’s on fire, like you’re burning up from the inside.

His other hand rucks up your shirt until you tug it all the way off. He pulls down the cup of your bra with one hand and rolls your nipple between his fingers.

You could come like this, Joel’s hands everywhere.

Gripping him through his clothes isn’t enough. You scramble to undo his belt and get your hand in his jeans, button popped and fly down.

He grunts your name when you spit into your palm and take him in hand, velvety soft and tip leaking.

“Careful,” he hisses. “Don’t want to stop this before it starts.”

“I’ll be gentle,” you say. He thumbs your clit in response and you gasp.

Time blurs with his fingers inside you. Your strokes are lazy but he hisses each time you drag your thumb over his tip. Is it going to be this, you two pawing at each other against the bar until someone bursts?

“Joel,” you gasp. “Joel, I want –”

He finally returns to your clit with a strained smirk. The veins in his neck are visible, telling you it’s getting to him, too.

“You remember what I said last time?”

Ask for what you want, you hear me? You ask and I'll do my damn best.

You could have him bend you over the bar. You imagine it, quick and dirty, the wood digging into your waist as he slams into you, flesh on flesh. It would be better than last time, you know it. But you want to see him.

You want Joel’s face in your neck, your hands in his hair as he fills you up. You want to watch him fall apart under you.

You dig your nails into him again and he hisses. You lean forward so your lips drag along the shell of his ear.

“I want to ride you, Joel,” you say.

His eyes flash. He kisses you hard, swirls your clit one more time, and pulls his hand from your cunt. Your knees feel a little weak so you keep your hands on his shoulders.

Joel brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.

“Gotta get at least a taste,” he says. “Just as sweet as I remember.” You surge forward to kiss him. You can taste yourself on his tongue and he groans into your mouth.

“Alright, baby,” he says, breath a little ragged. He thumbs your nipple again. “Where’re you gonna ride me?”

“Booth,” you manage. “Over there.” You jerk your head back towards the cracked vinyl seats he’s never once sat in since you met him. He pats your hips and you step back. The stool scrapes loudly on the floor as he stands.

He cups your cheek with one callused palm and just looks. His hair is a mess from your hands, lips swollen from your kisses. And yet he’s looking at you like you’re the answer to all his problems.

“So damn pretty,” he says.

Somehow you make it to the booth, a tangle of lips and hands, shedding pieces of clothing as you go. Your bra, his shirt, his belt. Shoes toed off and left in a pile, Joel shoves the table between the vinyl benches to the other side so there’s enough room for him to sit, for him to drag down his jeans and boxers and take his cock in one hand.

Your mouth waters at the sight of it. God, he’s thicker than you remember. One of these days you’re going to take him apart with your tongue.

You could just stand there and admire him but you’re so wet you think you’re going to drip onto the floor. His solid thighs, the dark hair gathered into curls at the base of him trailing up to his navel. If you were a painter you’d put him to a canvas.

Joel spreads his legs wide, and you run a hand down his bare chest before balancing on his shoulder as you step out of your bottoms. It’s almost funny – the two of you naked but for your socks, Joel’s pants around his ankles.

You want him too badly to spare a thought for laughter.

A condom comes from somewhere – his wallet, maybe, or his pocket, you don’t much care – and he slides it on with a hiss.

It’s different than last time. More desperate but in a fun way – and you know this won’t be the last time. You know each other’s bodies, now, and this can be quick, can be dirty, because you’ll be doing it again.

So you don’t waste any time straddling him. Joel lines his cock up with your entrance, his other hand on your hip.

“You ready?” he asks. You lean in to kiss him and sink down at the same time in response.

You moan in tandem as he fills you, the angle different from when you were on your back, so different. The stretch is deeper, and somehow you feel fuller than last time. It’s overwhelming, it’s all-consuming, it’s a little painful.

“Fuck,” Joel groans. “So tight. I ain’t gonna last long.”

It really is a tight fit, so tight you think maybe he was right to ask if you could take him without at least one orgasm to prepare you. The girth of him is splitting you in half, stretching you so much you whimper against his mouth.

Joel’s hands cup your face. “Y’okay?” he says, strained. “Hey, talk to me.”

Your eyes are shut tight, knees pressing hard into his solid thighs as you breathe.

“Need a sec,” you say. “It’s different like this, it’s –”

“I know, baby,” Joel murmurs. “Doin’ so good so far.”

He shifts his hold on you just a little and you whine. The vinyl cracks underneath his shifted weight as he whispers an apology into your shoulder.

The pain of the stretch dulls to an ache and you know what’s just on the other side. You roll your hips and the head of his cock presses exactly where you want it. It sends a shock wave of pleasure through you so intense that you fall forward a little, Joel’s face pressed to your chest.

He presses a kiss to your breastbone, so light you almost miss it as you start to ride him in earnest. Your knees press into the rough vinyl and Joel’s lips find your nipple.

“Didn’t give these ‘nough attention last time,” he says. “My mistake.”

His tongue laves at your breasts, one after the other as you swirl your hips over and over. You tug on his hair as your thighs start to burn but you keep going.

Joel’s teeth scrape against your nipples, the skin of your chest as he nips and soothes, nips and soothes. You’re going to be covered in marks tomorrow.

Maybe it’s the thrill of that, of just seeing him again, maybe it’s how bad you want him, who fucking knows – you’re already so close.

Everything fades away but this. Joel is everywhere, on you, around you, inside you…It’s just the two of you, limbs tangled and sweaty, panting each other’s name.

The smoldering in your belly is a fire climbing higher and higher and you’re going to explode with the heat of it.

Firm, rough-skinned hands hold you steady as you lift and sink, gasping every time he hits that spot inside you.

“Joel, I –”

His grip turns bruising as he starts to fuck you on his own, the wet smack of his balls filling the bar.

“I know, baby,” he pants. “I know. You hear that? You hear me fuckin’ you? You’re takin’ my cock so good.”

You plant your hands on his shoulders and try to meet his thrusts.

“Swear I dreamed ‘bout this,” he growls. “How wet you were. Those fuckin’ noises you make when I –” He circles your clit with his thumb and you keen. “There we go. Just like that.”

“Joel –

“Gonna ruin this booth,” he says with a rough chuckle. His forehead is tacky when you press yours against it.

“I – fuck – need new ones anyway, don’t I?”

Joel grins, all teeth as he pounds into you.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says, breath hot on your lips. “Soak my cock. Know you can, so tight and –”

Your orgasm rips through you, a broken litany of Joel and yes and god knows what else torn from your throat as he fucks you through it. His thrusts become erratic and you try to keep your seat as he finishes with a deep groan.

Joel presses more of those light kisses to your collarbones, the base of your throat, so like the one he left on the back of your hand that first night. You drag your fingers through his slightly sweaty hair.

“I’ll move in a second,” you say, catching your breath.

“Take your time,” he says. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

His grip on you is practically gentle, fingers lazily stroking patterns into your skin. You drag a hand up and down his chest.

It’s tender. It’s…something it maybe shouldn’t be. Something that doesn’t belong in whatever you’re doing.

You get out of his lap as carefully as you can and stand in front of him, naked. Fucking with a condom is smart and all, but you wonder what it would feel like to have him dripping between your thighs.

He doesn’t hide his stare, though it’s not as charged as before. He’s looking just to look.

“Put your pants on,” you grumble at him. He laughs.

You scoop your clothes off the floor and head for the bathroom. The tarnished mirror displays your sated smile and bright eyes. You run a hand over the bruises he left on your neck, your hips. Well-fucked is a good look on you. You look exhausted but happy.

Joel is dressed and back at the tabletop when you return. He’s got his usual bottle of whiskey on the wood, two glasses already sporting a pour each.

“Not workin’ anymore, are you?” he asks you.

You laugh. “No.”

The soreness starts to settle into your thighs when you take the stool next to him.

The momentary silence isn’t uncomfortable. It is comfortable, which is the strange part. Sitting here with him at your bar after he fucked you a few feet away and sipping at your drinks.

Joel, for his part, seems unbothered. You can’t figure him out. It makes you feel a little unsteady to know that he sees right through you, but you don’t know what he’s thinking. Would he tell you if you asked?

“So,” he says. “What’re your plans for the place?”

You sigh. A piece of his hair is sticking up and you tuck your hand between your thighs so you don’t smooth it. It’s different with your clothes on.

“There’s a lot to do,” you tell him. “Jukebox is broken. Neon signs need replacing. Plumbing could do with a refresh. I want to refinish the floors, maybe tear off this ugly wallpaper –”

“Make sure you get a good gel for that,” he says. “Shit’s old and won’t come off easy.”

You lean your chin in your hand and shoot him an amused look.

“Do a lot of wallpaper removal in your spare time?” you ask.

He fiddles with his watch, jaw working around whatever it is he wants to say.

“I’m a contractor.”

“Really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he grumbles. “You think I sit on my ass all day?”

Honestly, you don’t know. Most of the thoughts you have about Joel aren’t to do with his job. You have no idea what he does when he isn’t here.

You shrug. Joel rolls his eyes.

“Well, I am,” he drawls. He takes a long sip of his whiskey. “And I know the folks around here who you’ll need. Materials, all that.”

“Are you offering to help me, Joel?” You keep your voice neutral.

He looks at you head-on. It feels like he’s seeing through you again. “If you want it.”

“If we do that, it has nothing to do with…” You gesture between you. “With this.”

Joel just looks at you, letting you sort out what you want to say.

“I mean, I don’t want charity, okay?”

He shakes his head. “Ain’t charity. I owe Bill some favors. This’ll square us up. You’ll cover all the other shit, I guess.”

“It’s not his bar, anymore,” you remind him, but it’s a weak protest.

Joel knocks back the rest of his drink.

You’ve been working out how to finance the renovations all week. All that cash you’ve squirreled away over the years finally has a purpose, other than a cushion in case something really bad happens. It’s looking tight between paying the staff and sourcing the work. You’d only be able to close a week at a time and any delays will fuck the whole thing.

But if Joel’s offering discounted labor, materials on the cheap? You could get it all done faster, get it done right.

“Why do you want to help me?” you ask.

Joel huffs and if you knew him better you’d say it was in offense.

“Let’s just say I’m invested in the state of this place,” he says. “And you really gotta replace those booths.”

Your face feels hot. “Asshole.”

“So,” he says. “You interested?”

It’s not a bad idea. Hell, it might even be a good one. Money aside, Joel, whatever his story is, is connected in this town, and if you’re staying it would do you some good to start making some connections of your own. Start settling.

The fist in your chest, your heart, your mind – it loosens just a little bit.

“I’m interested.”

Joel knocks on the bar once, twice, and stands. He digs in his back pocket for his wallet and hands you a business card with his phone number.

“I’ll be here Monday morning,” he says. “We can start goin’ over stuff, figure out when you wanna close. All that. Call me anytime. Sound good?”

You just nod. The fatigue is starting to hit and Joel must be able to tell because he just smiles at you.

“Goodnight, boss lady,” he says. “Put the whiskey on my tab.”

Joel grabs his jacket and unlocks the door, sliding into the cool night with a wave.

“You don’t have a tab, asshole,” you mutter, but you’re smiling a little.

It feels like pieces are falling into place.

You know you could get the bar fixed up on your own. But with Joel’s help, it’ll get done faster and you might even have some money left over at the end of it.

It’s a lot all at once. But for some reason, it feels different this time. It’s not another job about to fall through, not another relationship going south because you got spooked. It’s not you getting bored and cutting your losses.

You want this. You want it to work. Usually, you’d have left by now, before you got too attached, but it’s too late so you’re going to make it work.

This thing with Joel, though – you’re going to have to be careful. If you’re not, it’ll run away from you and – well. You don’t want to lose control of it.

You look around the bar and sigh. Unwiped tables, a booth that no one should sit in, floors to clean. A few hours of work before bed.

You know you’re going to spend them trying not to think about the man who just left.

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