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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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safination · 4 days

Text

Mother Of Mine

|Masterlist|

Pairings: Alastor x Reader, Velvette & Mom!Reader CW: Alastor, foul language, talks of murder, (Hopefully not, but possibly) OOC

Requested by: @thill20712 My inbox is still currently open. Feel free to keep requesting.So I just did a headcanon format for this. It was pretty fun. Listen, is this my best work? No, but that’s fine because it was actually very entertaining for me, and that’s all that matters. Tbh, I would actually like to turn this into a series but undergrad studies are killing me rn, so maybe in the future. I can like already see so much fun shit around this concept. Imagine the family dinners, or like Alastor going to an Overlord meeting and just unknowingly being slightly less of a chaotic shitlord to Velvette because there’s something faintly familiar or like Vel and Al just both doting on you.

Your husband died.

Everyone found out what Alastor had been doing. The city had no compassion for a monster’s grieving widow. Ha! Alastor would have a kick of your current situation, that’s for sure. It should have been you and him running for your life as the city chases you out of his mother’s home.

That’s how it should have been.

There wasn’t even time to gather all your belongings before those who wanted revenge go to fulfill their goal. Just a measly change of clothes, some emergency money, and documents. Photos never made it to the list. It’s funny how a single piece of film could pack the most weight.

As your ran for your life, cold and frightened, you heard muffled wailings.

And they called Alastor cruel. Who would leave a baby inside a dumpster? You thought about it . . . . Just for a second. The baby’s shrill cries were getting on your nerves, and there’s no way it will survive the night. And an orphanage is no place for a child to grow—you know that much.

So . . . why not? You could just end it’s suffering—Right here, right now.

Compassion isn’t your strongest trait. It’s why you never said anything about all those people who fell under Alastor’s pursuit of self-righteous justice. Who were you to care for someone you don’t know?

You don’t hate children, far from it, actually. Children are the light of this world, and they were the path to bring a better future into this world. Such pure creature shouldn’t be stained by you. Especially, because you’re not sure if you could ever fully love a child the way it needs to love. Children deserved care, and you refused to bring a child into this world without the assurance that it would be loved.

It was an easy decision that Alastor wholeheartedly supported.

The world took away the very few things you truly loved. Maybe, you could return it ten-fold. . . but you’ve been cold and frightened before, just like this baby. Actually, you’re cold and frightened, right now. Also, just like this baby. Two cold and frightened souls.

So, with the clothes on your back, and no home to call, maybe¸ you’ll find warmth and safety together.

There’s always the option to give it—no, the child, just for a night. Drop the baby off on a porch of some nice couple’s home.

Tomorrow, you’ll give this baby girl away.

• Tomorrow never came

People keep assuming this baby girl is your daughter. You don’t bother correction them. Why should you? It’s not like you’re eager to say that you skipped state lines because of your dead, murderous husband, and basically kidnapped her.

It’s easier to let people assume.

And you can’t keep calling the baby, ‘that baby’. She needs a name eventually, and Alastor always spoke fondly about his mother.

Tomorrow never did come, and tomorrow never will come. Despite this, the sands of time trickled down.

The baby turned into a girl and the girl also grew. Part of your misses the days when she would raid your closet, and dress you up like a doll with a sharp tongue and a demanding attitude. Gone are the days when you’d be sleeping on the same bed, and gone are the days when you would tell her about Alastor.

You would tell her about the flowers, and how Alastor drove around the city, with you right next to him. The sun went down, the moon rose high into the night, and that sun eventually appeared once more. Yet, neither of you were ready to leave each other’s presence.

That girl grew, and took up a weird hobby of wanting to be called, ‘Vel’:

Vel walks into the room, her nose high in the air as she sharpens her tongue against you. “Mother, you cannot walk around looking like this!” she tells you. “The colors look absolutely atrocious. I will burn that shoes the next time I see it on your feet.”

Daughters can be quite judgmental. Maybe, you really should have left her in that dumpster.

“I’ll change my shoes if you stop calling yourself, ‘Vel’,” you tell her, smiling. “I gave you such a nice name, and it makes me sad that you aren’t using it!”

“It’s a stage name,” she says, rolling her eyes at you. So judgmental, that girl. “It’s what I’m going to be called when I finally get out of here, and such a drabby, old name like mine won’t get men anywhere.”

“Well, Vel, I got a call.” You tap your fingers across your knee, staring her down. “Apparently, Mister Joseph doesn’t appreciate being called a, ‘Pathetic and blind fool who goes to work looking like dog poop’.”

“I did not say fool or poop,” she says. “And that old fucker knows it.”

“What I want to know now is—Why?” You stroke your forehead. “What was he wearing too much brown?”

“No.” Vel crosses her arms. “Because my mother was called, ‘an unmarried whore, and who knows where that child come from?’”

“I am married!” You press a kiss on her forehead, chuckling. “It’s just not my fault my husband died not was it my fault your parents didn’t want you.”

Vel rolls he eyes, and sticks out her tongue.

You flicker her nose, and stick out your own tongue.

But time goes on, and as they do. All came to dust and all return to dust.

Of course, you’d end up in hell. It would be a shame that Alastor would never get to meet your daughter. It eventually all blurred into one. And if you didn’t give a flying fuck about others on Earth, why would you give any more fucks to care in Hell of all places?

Building kept growing higher and higher. Bright lights and television shaped morons came into picture. If you could find Alastor, surely, you would have a laughed together. Radio will always be superior. So, you kept your distance from that part of town.

More years kept passing. Alastor was nowhere to be found.

When enough time passes, things tend to loop. Like how you’re hearing cold and scared cries from an alley way. Something posses you to step into the alley. Piss and death and a sweet perfume all assault your nose. You keep walking and . . . somehow, your daughter ended up with you in hell.

Daughter really can be so cruel to their mothers.

Maybe, you actually should have left her in that dumpster. You were destined for Hell, and it seems you dragged your daughter down with you. If you did leave her, surely, Heaven wouldn’t turn away such a new soul.

You squat next to your sobbing daughter in this random corner in hell, and watch her tears with a small smile. “This is exactly how I found you all those years ago,” you tell her. “Although, you were much cuter.”

Her head snaps up, and through her tears, she glares at you. “Mother.”

“Yes, dear?

“Mother,” she says again, and fat tears streams out of her face. “What the fuck are you wearing? It’s soooo ugly!”

“I’m going to leave you here.” You blow a strand off your face, and lean against the wall, next to her.

It’s a lie and you both know it. If you cold leave her, cold and frightened next to a dumpster . . . Well, you would have done it a long time ago.

“Why are you even in Hell? Actually—Don’t answer that,” she says, that same sharp tongue somehow even sharper. “You were a nasty bitch in life. It’s no wonder you’re here.”

“Language.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Vel slumps on you, curling around your shoulder. There’s a scowl on her face even as she settles her body next to you. “You really are nasty. How come I’m only seeing you now! I’m sure even a recluse like you should have heard of me.”

“What am I doing here?” you parrot, matching her scowl. Actually, she got that scowl on you. That’s your scowl on her face. “What are you doing here? I raised you to be a good person worthy of Heaven!”

You pat her hair a bit, glad that she couldn’t see your face. Did you really drag her down to hell with you? Was it a mistake to love when your very love condemned her?

“That’s bullshit,” Vel says. “The decisions I made are my own. I’m here because it’s what I decided to do.”

You flicker her nose and laugh when her scowl deepens. “Please, please! Tell me you’re still not going by ‘Vel’.”

“It’s ‘Velvette’ now, actually.”

“That sounds like a stripper name,” you say, barking out a laugh. “I gave you a nice and proper name! Your name came from—”

“Mother! No one goes by their real names here!”

So that’s how you, sadly, found your daughter in Hell. Daughter, yes. Husband, no.

Oh, where is your Alastor?

Clothes are thrown everywhere. Your daughter has an eye for fashion and surely, you’re capable of remembering anything she’s tried to tell you. And granted, Velvette did tell you quite a lot of things about clothes . . . a bit too much.

Maybe you should call her, but you wouldn’t want to inconvenience her, especially since she has that show coming up. She’s worked so hard, and you’ve learned to accept that she works in such a noisy and bright place. And you have thought about those co-workers of hers, but that’s not important right now.

The door bangs open and Velvette stands there irked. “I’ve been knocking.”

You grab her and ask her about the clothes. “What do you think?”

“You know what I think about your clothes,” she says. “You haven’t been answering my calls.”

“Is that the thing that keeps ringing?”

“Mother!” Velvette says, irked. “Answer my calls, and put that down! Neon is never a good color on you.”

“Then help me then!”

“I can’t help you if I don’t know where you’re going.”

You pause to think, dropping the clothe around your arms. “I . . . I found my husband,” you say. “We’re going on a date.”

“Are you sure about this?” she says, slowly . . . carefully. “It’s been so long. What if he’s just trying to get your soul? If you finally tell me his name, I can take a look at him. I mean, there could be other –”

“No, there’s no one else,” you say with a small giggle. It’s like you’re back to being a love sick-teenager. “There will be no one else. I’ll chain him to my basement if I have to.”

“You keep that shit to yourself.” Velvette sinks on the couch. “I don’t want to hear about this.”

“Oh sure, but when it comes to those little co-workers of yours, suddenly, every detail –”

“Mother!”

Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t leave her in the dumpster because with a snap of her fingers, you look beautiful.

Velvette crosses her legs. “I’ve never seen you this happy.”

“That’s not true.” You approach her, and press a kiss on her forehead. “I’ve had my happiest moments because of you. Maybe, you just weren’t watching.”

Apparently, Alastor and Velvette are familiar with each other. Unfortunately, they aren’t on very friendly terms. Actually, your house would say that they were on very hostile terms. It would be a drag to have to find a new house, but luckily, your daughter is an Overlord, and it seems your husband is also an Overlord.

Those two things overlapped, and when Velvette opened the door to see Alastor at your door. Well, the house couldn’t withstand their argument. Thing settle down, eventually.

Velvette is off showing her frustration on your poor neighbors.

Alastor stands proudly next to you, a constant and intimidating smile on his face despite the dirt and tears on his clothes. He watches Velvette curse and shout into the air. “Ours?”

“No, not at all,” you say, smiling as you watch your daughter. “Mine.”

Velvette stomps back, clothes also as dirty and torn. “I would rather skin myself than share the same blood with this tacky, old joke,” she says, hissing at him. “You’re not wanted here. It takes another level of pathetic to be shot while trying to hide a dead body.”

Alastor’s eyes twitch, and there’s that long, tried look on his face.

Maybe, hell isn’t so bad. You’ve got your daughter, and you’ve got your husband. A happy, little, chaotic family.

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x wife!reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x you #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #human alastor #Alastor x wife reader #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette #overlord velvette #Velvette #alastor imagines #hazbin hotel alastor

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catpriciousmarjara · 9 months

Text

DP x DC: Dick's Totally Normal Date?

Inspired by that one juju sanpo where Yuuji thought Megumi was being hit on and he, Nobara, and Gojo pull out their ridiculous Formation B to drive away the potential date. And I thought, 'this, but batfam, but veer wildly to the left, with DP'. So here you go.

Third floor study, Wayne Manor

"Thank you all coming on such short notice", Tim said, eyes serious, one hand on the pile of documents on the table.

His siblings nodded at him, faces grave, except for Duke who just looked confused.

"I'm sure all of you already know why this meeting was called-

"I don't actually know why we are here", Duke interrupted.

He was thoroughly ignored.

-and are just waiting for confirmation. But the wait is now over. I have here the results."

His siblings all leaned forward, except for Cass who was too chill for that, apprehension radiating through their frames. Though Duke was more confused than apprehensive.

Tim sighed. "It's true. Dick is dating."

Gasps ran through the group.

Tim dropped the bigger bomb. "And its not a redhead."

Jason cursed as he leaned back in his chair, face directed at the ceiling exasperatedly. Steph brought a fist down on the table, shaking her head. Cass simply placed an elbow on arm of her chair, chin supported by the back of her hand. Damian just scoffed.

Duke looked at all of them still trying to see what the issue was and why they were even here doing this. Tired of being out of the loop the young man decided to just go ahead and bite the bullet.

"Question!", he began,"Why is Dick dating someone a problem?"

They all stared at him.

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Dude, he dated a witch king that tried to make us all into creepy dolls just a year and a half ago. The bastard almost turned everyone in Gotham into literal hamster plushies when they broke up."

"His immediate rebound after that relationship was the alien that tried to hunt him for sport", Steph contributed helpfully.

Jason waved an arm towards her while looking Duke, as if asking him why he wasn't getting the point.

And Duke...really wasn't getting the point. In fact he seemed to be getting even more confused.

"Dick's a habitual monsterfucker, old news, so what? And it isn't as if every single one of you haven't had some kind of romantic relationship with non-humans before. Even Damian's dated Jon! Besides Heira did not turn us all into hamsters. That was a joke. Aaaand Ga-va'se is a great guy and he definitely wasn't a rebound. Also he and Dick broke up really amicably and they still meet up for boba and he gives us really cool alien shit so I don't know why you guys don't like him."

"Duke, Ga-va'se hunted us for sport", Tim said from the side.

"That was because we were in his hunting grounds! Plus he apologized for that!", Duke defended his alien buddy. The guy was really nice! What was their hang up with him? Sure he was a bit murderous but hey, Duke dared his siblings to find one person from each of their social circles who wasn't a bit murderous and insane. Sure he hunted them for the better part of five days in a terrifying alien jungle a galaxy away from home but that was honestly their fault for intruding on the hunting grounds of his people in the first place. Plus it was all a misunderstanding!

"I agree with Thomas", Damian said as he thumbed through the files Tim had distributed among them. Across from him Cass was doing the same thing, rapidly turning the pages. "Partially at least. The Yautja was a worthy candidate for Grayson's hand-

"You just like him because he got you that sword, Demon Spawn", Jason drawled in that assholish tone of his that never failed to incense Damian.

-Shut it Todd! Ahem. As I was saying Ga-va'se was worthy but Heira was an imbecile. Unfortunately there are more Heiras in Grayson's romantic history than Ga-va'ses so it would be prudent for all of us to remain vigilant", the youngest member of the Wayne family finished, closing the file decidedly. "Especially if his current choice isn't a redhead."

Duke had to ask. "Again whats up with the hair colour thing?"

Tim looked at Steph pointedly. "Officer Stephanie Brown please proceed with orientation."

A truly terrifying grin bloomed on Steph's face. She stood up from her chair and walked to the wall, pulling down a projector screen. A click of a button and it came alive, with what looked like an honest to god power-point presentation on Dick's dating life. Tim slid Duke an brochure of all things.

"Dick's choice of romantic partners can be classified into three categories", she began as if she was a lecturer. She was even wearing glasses. "Redheads, which everyone and their third aunt's weird dog knows about, morally ambiguous older men, and extremely dangerous non-humans. There are outliers of course, and overlaps, but generally he tends to keep his choices confined to these groups. Turn to page 3 please."

Duke dutifully turned to page 3, which looked like it contained profiles of the various people Dick's dated in the past. If it was any other family this would be a gross invasion of privacy.

"Exhibit A- Barbara Gordon, great taste, mostly downhill from here I'm afraid. Exhibit B-Slade Wilson aka The Terminator, no I'm not kidding, the entire thing is weird and toxic. And Exhibit C-the weird eldritch thing Dick dated two years ago who I'm pretty sure is Cthulhu's actual cousin who made us all taste colours for a week straight."

"Deathstroke?", Duke exclaimed, weirded out.

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Thats who bothered you? Not Cthulhu's cousin?"

Duke huffed. "Their name is Umh'uidrritl and I know where to draw the line."

Tim side-eyed him. "On a whiteboard with an old marker maybe."

"Hey!"

"Back to my very important power-point that no one else is going to interrupt-",Steph said as she glowered at them, "-mapping Dick's dating history shows us that the more volatile of his partners tend to cause trouble post-breakup. A deeper investigation would reveal that while his harem of redheads mainly just stir up delicious, juicy drama, hot tea and angst all around baby, bless their souls, his harem of morally ambiguous older men, and harem of extremely dangerous non-human entities tend to lean towards more destructive reactions. While the former is content with kidnapping and threatening and the assorted standard yandere meltdowns-

"Yandere?", Damian murmured.

Jason just snorted.

-the latter likes to cause damage on a larger scale". The blonde gestured with a flourish and a new slide popped up.

"Exhibit A- That time Gotham almost got gobbled up like a light snack by that space whale pet of the Ryagonian emperor. Exhibit B- That time a Fairy Queen tried to spirit Dick away and almost put the entire city into an enchanted coma, which was honestly kinda festive, I'd never been more well rested. Exhibit C- That entire thing with the tentacles that we are all better off without revisiting."

Everybody in the room blanched at that last one. Duke nodded his head at their reactions. The ink really was hard to get off of clothes.

The screen went dark and she pulled the cord at the bottom, the projector screen rolling up. The blonde turned to them with a smug and satisfied expression on her face.

"In conclusion, despite there being no biological connection between them, and the fact that romantic and sexual preferences are not genetically inherited, Dick has managed to acquire Bruce's proclivity for an interesting dating life, which we all did if we're being honest. Its just that while Bruce dates across the law, Dick dates across realms and his romantic entanglements often happen to be so above our pay grade that its ridiculous. Data has shown that redheads cause the least amount of property damage so whenever he dates non-redheads, we have to keep an eye on the tea-I mean an eye on the situation."

She sat back in her chair with a satisfied air. "Questions?"

"Yes", Tim said miserably. "Did you have to bring Bruce into this? Like ew."

"I had to, yeah!", Steph replied cheerily. "You stole my croissant alienfucker!"

"Excuse you the alien fucks me thank you very much!"

Jason almost gagged. "TMI Timbo TMI!"

Duke frantically gestured at Damian. "Damian's right here!"

The boy in question just looked supremely unimpressed. "I was raised by assassins Thomas."

"Where's Cass?", asked Steph, munching on a packet of chips she produced from somewhere.

"Left this clown fest to assist Pennyworth in drugging father so that he can actually rest."

"Ah", said the whole room. Each one individually resolving to go to Bruce's room and get blackmail pics later. Sibling solidarity at its finest.

"Back to the matter at hand", said Tim, "Dick dating a possibly dangerous entity even remotely around the time frame when the Joker turned up dead is a red flag. And that's why our secret society is meeting today."

"Okay one, you think Dick's new boyfriend offed Joker? Two, this is a secret society?", asked Duke, his earlier confusion now fully evolving into resignation.

"I already filled out your documentation."

"What?"

"Don't worry. Everything's in order."

"Thats not...you know what? Thanks Tim."

"You're welcome!"

Steph chortled at the entire exchange and almost choked on her chips. Karma.

Jason leaned back with his hands behind his head.

"You know, if this guy merked the clown, and has no evil plans or something...I'm all for him actually. Guy has my vote. If they get married I might even decide not to embarrass Dickie at the wedding", he said while Steph hacked up a lung in the background.

"Be that as it may Todd, we still need to monitor the situation. If this Daniel did have anything to do with the Joker's death, then he is a dangerous individual who could pose a threat to Grayson", remarked the young Robin, and then as an add-on, "...and Gotham."

Duke sighed. There really was no escaping this was there? "So what do we have on the guy?", he asked Tim.

"Page 4. Name-Daniel Nightingale, prefers to be called Dan. Father, Vladimir Masters. Mother, Daniella Nightingale. Sister, Danielle Nightingale. Brother and sister are apparently vacationing-

"In Gotham?!, Duke asked horrified.

-and Dan met Dick during a Halloween Party in Bludhaven-

"In Bludhaven?!", Steph asked appalled.

"Why was a supposedly vacationing wealthy European in Bludhaven for Halloween?", Jason asked with a frown.

"European?!", Damian asked scandalized.

-And they hit it right off. As of now, they have been dating for five months and the relationship looks to be going strong. While the records seem legitimate, something's off about them. Also the Joker turned up dead on Valentine's Day. So my verdict...sus."

There was a bout of thoughtful silence.

Then.

"Daniella, Daniel, and Danielle? What the fuck? What are they? Clones?" asked an incredulous Jason, aghast at the unoriginality.

Duke scrutinized the provided photos closely. "Whoa, this Master's guy's genes really stood no chance! They all really could be clones for real."

Steph whistled. "He ripped!"

They stared at her. She sipped her boba unrepentantly.

"What? I'm right! He ripped!"

She was indeed right. He was ripped.

Duke put the file down. "So what's the plan? Do we just follow him around till we find out what he is or something?"

"Okay so the next week Gotham's got a week long 'Joker is Dead' carnival planned-

"Another one?", Damian asked surprised.

"We deserve it", both Jason and Steph reply vehemently.

-and Dick said Dan's taking him to the fair every single day of the celebration. If everything goes according to plan, we can sneak our way into the organizers, stall owners, ride operators whatnot and do some tests to figure Daniel Nightingale out. And if he's normal trouble we prepare for the breakup meltdown. If he's a different sort of trouble we deal with it."

"We gotta be careful though". Steph obnoxiously slurped her boba. "Or else Dick will deal with us."

They all shuddered in fear. Dick Grayson could be a mean bitch when it came to revenge.

"We'll just have to execute it well. Thomas will be adequate for the job. The rest of you fools will just have to step up, especially you Drake", Damian said as he crossed his arms across his chest, nose up imperiously.

The two robins, red and regular, sneered at each other.

Jason 'hmpfed'. "Sounds good enough. If that's it I'm gonna go. I got shit to do". He stood up from his chair and stretched, a symphony of cracking sounds coming from his spine. "Shit I'm old."

"You're just gonna re-watch Pride and Prejudice 2005 again". Tim also stood up, even more concerning popping sounds coming from his spine.

"Damn right I am", said the crime lord as he ambled out of the room.

Steph also got out of her chair and started collecting her trash, Alfred would kill he if she didn't. "I'm all in on this plan Timtam! Clown's dead, Gotham's finally calmed down, I went to bed early...No way I'm letting some ripped Adonis mess with my peace and quiet no matter how mouthwateringly swole he is! And he is swole!" With that she also swept out of the room.

"I'll update Cass!", she shouted from the corridor.

Damian had already disappeared. This left Tim and Duke alone in the room. When Tim also made to leave, Duke finally managed to break through the disbelieving fugue this entire meeting had pulled him under.

"So where's the plan Tim?"

"Oh", said the sleep deprived vigilante, already halfway out the door, "I emailed it you already."

And then there was one.

Duke just stood there processing that last sentence for a long two minutes. He sighed.

"So this meeting could've been an email."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dick is rather adventurous in his dating life. Helen of Troy vibes.

The entire operation reveals nothing suspicious. According to all the tests known to man and bat kind, Daniel 'I prefer Dan' Nightingale is a completely normal member of the Homo sapiens species. Not even a metagene. Just generously swole.

Duke being half immortal doesn't really get his siblings' reservations against some of Dick's exes. He doesn't realize that beings like Umh'uidrritl, who was not Cthulhu's cousin but a distant relative by the way, give most people incomprehensible nightmares. He on the other hand thought that Umh'uidrritl and his pet colossal hydrothermal squid were perfectly lovely. Though he and Damian high-key root for their Yautja friend.

There is absolutely no romantic relationship between Vlad and Danny. Dan and Danielle are just little shits who just love the horrified expression that overtakes Danny's face every time he sees their IDs for vacation time. To be clear its the Vlad part that horrifies him, he rocks as Daniella. Vlad, who is reformed here, is also horrified at this. Which is why the two little shits do it. Also the DP characters are all aged up. Could be by a few years, could be by millennia. They haven't deigned to reveal that to me.

Bruce spend the entire week under Alfred's careful supervision, getting rest and relaxation. He had spa days with Clark and Diana. He slept ten hours. He felt energetic in the morning. He hummed a cheerful tune. It was disgusting. He remained blissfully unaware of his eldest son's latest romantic adventure. Good for him.

Alfred thinks Ga-va'se was a splendid young man and that Umh'uidrritl was a lovely partner. He just wishes Master Dick would stop dragging in ruffians like that ill-mannered Heira every now and then. Truly a son of Master Bruce that one. What about that wonderful demon boy from a few years ago Master Dick? Mezarel was it? Oh he was sealed away, was he? Well bat your eyelashes at that man Constantine you and Master Bruce keep around and try to get that boy back will you? Such a well mannered young devil he was!

Alfred becomes that mother-in-law that never truly accepts Dan completely, still holding out hope for Mezarel to make a comeback. I've heard harems are wonderful this time of year Master Dick. A second husband would do you some good!

Dan finds this hilarious. His family does as well. Alfred also likes Dan. They have a weird understanding.

Cass likes most of Dick's exes. Except for Heira. Everybody hates Heira. Although Duke kinda likes him but even sunshine boy has his limits.

Yes the bat-siblings are doing this only for the safety of Gotham, not to also low-key annoy their big brother at all.

Yes Dan and Dick were aware of the hi-jinks.

Yes Cass did think they should just ask Dick.

Yes Dick is aware of who and what Dan is. He met him at a supernatural Samhain gala he literally stumbled into. He just rolled with it, celebrating the end of the harvest with the decidedly non-human revelers, and not only ate the food there but also drunk flirt with Dan.

Dan said, 'You're stupid. I like that in a human' and saved him from being stolen away by some very interested entities. It was the start of a beautiful relationship. Dani sometimes calls them the 'tits and ass duo' and she's right.

Danny is just happy that Dan found someone he loves and could keep up with him. He almost felt like a proud mother at their wedding and then had an existential crisis about it.

The family does find out Dan's real identity. It was after Dick accepted his proposal and it was hilarious. Jason meets Jazz at the wedding. He thinks he got infected with Dick's redhead fetish.

Yes this is all for my Dick/Dan propaganda. I hope you're not immune.

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chuuyasheaven · 10 months

Text

♡ Addicted to your kisses ♡

♡ Tags: Dazai Osamu / afab! Reader, making out, pet names, praising, soft sex??, desk fucking??, idk what's acc happening rn, Reader distracting Dazai, p/without any/p? , might contain grammar errors, rushed drabble, cringe, etc.

♡ Notes: NEW FORMAT ?!?! But also srry for disappearing, school's already making me want to kms

Dazai had a lot to do this week, there were a ridiculous amount of documents and reports which had to be filled. He also didn't take a lot of breaks during all this, and the worst thing of all? Not being able to be around you. Not being around your sweet touches, your sweet voice and most of all, your addictive kisses. But it's probably better this way, he may be locked in his room at all times but atleast he's not getting distracted!

When you first found out, you were glad that he was catching up on stuff, but now it has been almost two days since you last been with him. Hell, you even started to get worried, so why not check up on him? Just a quick peak and small talk and then leave him be? That was your original plan, trying not to get him overwork himself, which started off innocently. . Until you kissed him. It was just a quick kiss on the forehead, how did it escalate to this?!

"S–shit, i missed you so much, 'donna.", Dazai panted between kisses, while you were just eager for his lips to touch yours again. From this one kiss, it all started from one innocent kiss for most of the paperwork to lay on the floor and you sitting on his desk, with your arms around his neck as he made out with you passionately. You were so deep into it that even his tongue entered your mouth, fighting for dominance even though you're submitting to him. Dazai's hands are now on your waist, holding you close to him. "Did you miss me too?"

"Yes, i did. . a lot, 'Samu.", you answered his question, just the way he wanted it. "Your kisses are so addictive, darling, i just can't stop after one.", he explained while looking you in the eyes lovingly. You needed him so bad, it was even a joke anymore, and trust me, he could tell. "You want more, love?", he asked, you nodded once more, eagerly and excitedly. Dazai only smirked and slid of your pants, leaving you in your panties. He then unbuckles his own belt. You could see his obvious boner, getting more excited yourself.

Dazai just took out his dick and pushed your panties impatiently to the side, sliding into you immediately. When he was in fully, you let out a quiet whimper. After waiting for a few seconds for you to adjust, you gave him the sign to start. Dazai moved his hips slowly first, already groaning in pleasure while your whimpers turned into moans. His hands were still on your hips, his head now on your shoulder trying to stay quiet. "You feel so good, f–fuck. .", he grunted softly into your ear, only getting you wetter. Dazai's thrusts got faster as this went on, he himself started to whimper slowly.

"You're s–so pretty, I can't–,", Dazai started, getting cut off by his cock twitching so good inside you, that it he had to take a deep breath to continue. Dazai giggled drunkenly before continuing his sentence. "I c–can't control myself. But you like it, don't you? You l–like the way you have me wrapped around fingers so easily.", You arched your back as he trusted into you deep, letting out a slutty moan during it. "Y–you're such a good girl, I love you so m–much.", he whimpered softly, twitching a second time.

The skin slapping in the room got louder and sloppier, meaning that you and Dazai got closer to your orgasm. You placed your legs around his waist, resulting into him going even deeper than before. "D–dazai,", you whimper loud enough for him to hear. "Y–yes, my love?", he asked while lifting his head from your shoulder, smiling drunkenly at you, very slight drool rolling down the corner of his mouth. "C–can I get a kiss, p–please?", he just leaned in, kissing you again. As his lips smashed against yours, your back arched again. Dazai twitched once more before cumming inside you, both of moaning into the kiss while you came with him at the same time.

Letting go of the kiss, you tried catching your breath and Dazai pulled out a few minutes later, sitting down back onto his chair and leaving you still on top of his desk. "Did you finish your work, 'Samu?", you asked, while Dazai just laid on your thighs breathing lightly. "Not really,", he stated. "Then go finish it. You know what happens when you don't.", you warned him until you felt his warm breath get closer to your inner thighs. "Relax, darling, let me clean you up first, hm?", before you could protest, Dazai was already breathing towards your cunt's direction.

"—I can't leave you leaking our juices onto my desk, can I, 'donna?"

AHHH I ACC LIKE THIS !! ♡

♡ Random tags:: @soukokulatte, @rxyyyyy, @miloofc !!

#Rei's Drabbles !! ♡#dazai smut #bsd dazai #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs smut #dazai x reader

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ageingfangirl2 · 10 months

Text

Never Have I Ever! Red Hair Pirates (One Piece)

Part 2

You play a game of Never Have I Ever and secrets come to light that some crew would rather forget. Reader x Red Hair Pirates FLUFF (Female reader implied)

You walk onto the deck after finishing documenting the last battle since Shanks had assigned you the ship scribe and roll your eyes as the rest of the crew sits in a circle drinking and laughing. You didn't mind a drink here and there but sometimes pirates could be a little excessive when it came to booze and celebrating after a successful battle.

Shanks spots you and waves you over wearing his trademark drunken grin, 'come play with us,' he slurs, and brings the bottle in his hand up to his lips.

You roll your eyes again and approach the circle, 'what are you guys playing?'

Benn notices you looking for an empty spot since there were none and immediately pulls you down to sit on his lap, 'never have I ever doll.'

Yasopp hands you a bottle of unopened wine, 'you take it in turns saying something you haven't done, and if someone has done the thing they have to drink and tell the story.'

Benn squeezes your thigh and smirks, 'We're about to find out some of your secrets, hit us with your best shot.'

You uncork the wine and take a large swig, you had a bone to pick with Benn for embarrassing you in town earlier and you had just the right ammunition to take away his smugness.

'Okay, never have I ever...' you pause, and everyone in the circle leans in a little closer because you didn't share a lot about yourself, '...never have I ever seen my captain's dick.'

Benn scowls at you, 'You little minx, I told you that in private.'

You pout, 'Drink up and spill old man, unless our beloved captain wants to tell the story.'

Shanks howls with laughter, 'Benn's seen my dick several times. You jealous little lady?'

'Seven...' you stutter.

Benn pretty much finishes his whole drink before talking, 'I never initiated any of them, that's all on Shanks.'

However what shocks you next is that one by one the rest of the guys start drinking, and if your jaw could hit the deck it would as Shanks continues laughing.

'He showed me in the kitchen when I was prepping vegetables, compared it against a bunch of carrots,' Lucky says with a grimace, 'it took me a while to pick up another carrot.'

'Rockstar and I were fishing and he simply whipped it out,' Lime Juice says calmly, 'we promised never to talk about it again.'

'It wasn't long after the formation of the crew. We got drunk and had a dick measuring contest,' Yasopp speaks up, 'it sobered me right up.'

Hongo clicks his tongue, 'it wasn't even medical. Like Rockstar and Lime Juice, I was minding my own business in the infirmary, and he waltzed in real pride in himself.

You notice Benn pout next to you, 'What's wrong? Did you think you were special?'

'Maybe a little,' Benn mumbles into his empty bottle.

You find your captain's eyes and he's smirking at you mischievously, 'I'm going to like playing this game with you, everyone tells you their secrets.'

The game abruptly ended after your one and only turn, the crew wanting to drown their sorrows, and a lot more booze was consumed to forget the image of Shank's dick.

You finish your wine and decide to leave the pity party and head towards the back of the ship to get a better view of the stars. You were pretty satisfied with the carnage you'd caused, maybe now you wouldn't be teased or pranked as much.

'You never answered my earlier question,' Shanks slurs from behind you.

You spin around and see Shanks leaning casually against the railing, 'err what was the question, captain?'

Shanks saunters towards you, 'You jealous you haven't seen your captain's dick? You're the odd one out.'

You shake your head and cover your eyes as Shanks's hand goes to the waistband of his pants, your cheeks blushing, 'I'm not jealous, I wanted to get back at Benn for embarrassing me. Please keep it in your pants captain.'

You gasp as you feel Shanks's arm go around you pulling you against his chest, feeling the fabric of his pants on your legs so you don't have to worry and open your eyes, 'you're going to give me a heart attack one day captain.'

Shanks ruffles your hair, 'I'll never make you feel uncomfortable. But when you're ready to see your first dick I'll make sure it's mine.'

You grew up on an island full of women, so until meeting Shanks and the rest of the crew you had limited knowledge of men. After agreeing to join the crew because you wanted an adventure you slowly started your education of men. Maybe pirates shouldn't have been your first introduction.

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mrghostrat · 1 month

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since we’re on the topic of bookbinding, i’ve been wanting to get into it but i haven’t actually done any research (yet) other than vibes, so do u have any tips for complete beginners?? :)

@geminibookbinding is who inspired me to finally look up the whole process and figure out where to start! this is the super helpful tutorial i got from them

i had dabbled with binding before though, using Sea Lemon's tutorials to make blank sketchbooks yearsss ago. i still use her text block and diy hardcover videos as a refresher/reminder while i bind!

the biggest thing that stopped me from learning to bind printed fiction was not understanding how to print the text from home, specifically how to get the pages in the right order for signatures. it's actually so easy with some very simple to use programs: QuantumElephant for PC users (free), and I use BookletCreator on Mac ($20)

i want to go into more detail about my process and supplies from a beginner perspective, i hope this helps:

format the text in a word processor

export your document as a single page PDF

enter that PDF file into Quantum Elephant or BookletCreator, to rearrange the pages for your signatures. your program will give you a new PDF file that you can then print.

4. double sided printing: i was so so scared of this at first, but it's incredibly simple. no matter what printer you have, somewhere in your print settings will be an option to print even or odd pages.

print all the even pages first, then when the stack is finished printing, flip them over, insert them back into the paper feed, and print the odd pages.

5. fold the signatures together so you have a stack of little booklets, then mark on the spine where your sewing holes need to be. manually punch the holes using an awl, or diy an awl by stuffing a cork on the end of a straight needle.

6. sewing: take regular sewing thread and run it over a block of beeswax. this makes the thread easier to manage and holds it in place better while you sew. a curved needle is also much easier to use than a straight one, especially for a kettle stitch (using Sea Lemon's tutorial)

7. gluing: glue decorative pages (or plain, but thicker paper) to the front and back to create your end pages, then press the book flat to apply PVA glue to the spine. press it overnight so the glue dries flat. (optional: glue a ribbon to the top of the spine, then sew on headbands) finally glue an additional piece of paper (or mull) around the spine to strengthen it.

8. optional: trim the edges of your book down to create a smooth edge. this one's given me the most trouble because it's very hard to get right with a knife, and the proper supplies are expensive. check your local stationery shop (i.e. Officeworks, Staples) for an industrial guillotine service

9. cover: once you have the final measurements of your text block you can start making the cover. this is essentially gluing cardboard, binders board, or plywood etc to a sheet of fabric. the fabric either needs to be bookcloth, or have some kind of non-porous back so the glue doesn't seep through. you can diy bookcloth from any fabric with tissue paper. then glue the decorate end pages to your cover to attach the textblock!

#ask a rat #libratian #book binding

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ghostlywhiskey · 1 year

Text

lawyer!price who calls you into his office one day because he's having formatting issues trying to draft a motion and can't figure out how to fix it. typically you don't work on his cases, being assigned a different set of attorneys at the firm, but your desk happens to be closer to his office. so, when you hear your name come out of him in a frustrated tone to come into his office, you quickly stop your current task and head to the doorway of his office. "yes, john?" your tone of voice far softer and laced with nerves since every conversation you've had with other paralegals at the firm mentions their fear and/or their dislike for him.

price looks up at you as you stand in the doorway. "i don't have time to go back and forth sending this fucking document over email trying to figure out why its being a pain and the assigned paralegal is out sick today." is all he says, his eyes staring at you as you stand completely still in the doorway. he didn't tell you to come over to his desk, so your brain cautions you to wait until he orders you to do so.

is he gonna ask me to come over and look at it?

can she move her fucking feet already to look at this word doc.

"well-" "do you-" his words are quickly cut off by yours and both of you fall silent. quickly taking advantage of the silence, you speak up again quickly before he can get a word in. "do you want me to take a look?" you finish your sentence from before, cautiously taking small steps towards his desk like he's an animal in a zoo enclosure that could harm you. except instead of harming you, you'll end up on the unemployment line.

"please." the word sounds forced out of him, like he's trying to bite back any frustration.

how am i suppose to know or assume what you want, prick.

walking over to his desk, he slides his chair back as you get closer, giving you room to stand by his desk to look at his computer. you reach over to grab the mouse, bending down slightly to look at the screen better. as you click around trying to fix the formatting, you don't even bother explaining what you are doing to correct it - knowing damn well the attorneys will always just default to asking you or another paralegal to fix it.

after a few minutes, you hear him clear his throat and stand up. a quick glance without moving your head to make it obvious shows him discreetly adjusting himself as he walks over to the doorway of his office. the only words to leave his mouth are, "i'm getting coffee." as he disappears outside his office door.

fucking skirts. it's not even a short skirt. what the fuck is wrong with me.

you shrug it off, trying not to think too much of it. by the time he gets back to his office, you are already back at your desk and resuming your prior tasks.

as he walks back into his office, he sees a post-it on his keyboard reading, 'fixed the format. lmk if you have any other issues'. the sounds of the post-it crumpling in his hands and hitting the plastic bag of the trashcan faint, but loud enough for you to hear. the action causing you to roll your eyes.

you're welcome.

#captain john price #john price #captain price #captain price x you #john price x reader #john price x you #john price cod #price x reader #price x you #it would be a slow burn fr #like man would not budge on his actions for a long ass time #would subtly make changes to his case load so ur on more cases with him #anyway

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commodorez · 8 months

Note

I still believe the craziest form of computer program storage format from the 1980s is the cassette tape. Logical I get it but to store entire programs on little tape (that I only remember using to play music) is just crazy to me. Idk

Agreed, cassette tape for data storage was really clever. The concept had its heyday was the 1970s in a wide variety of encoding schemes for different computer platforms. It did persist into the 80s, mostly in Europe, while the US switched to floppy disks as soon as they were available for systems. The majority of my Ohio Scientific software is on cassette.

Talking with UK vs. US Commodore 64 users in particular will highlight the disparity in which storage mediums that were commonplace. I've got a few pieces of software on tape for mainly the VIC-20, but I rarely bother to use it, because it's slow and annoying. To be fair, Commodore's implementation of data storage on tape is pretty rock solid relative to the competition. It's considered more reliable than other company's but Chuck Peddle's implementation of the cassette routines are considered quite enigmatic to this day. He didn't document it super well, so CBM kept reusing his old code from the PET all the way through the end of the C128's development 7 years later because they didn't want to break any backward compatibility.

The big thing that really made alot of homebrewers and kit computer owners cozy up to the idea was the introduction of the Kansas City Standard from 1976. The idea of getting away from delicate and slow paper tape, and moving towards an inexpensive, portable, and more durable storage medium was quite enticing. Floppy disk drives and interfaces were expensive at the time, so something more accessible like off the shelf audio tapes made sense.

I've linked two places you can read about it from Byte Magazine's February 1976 issue below (check the attribution links).

You might recognize a familiar name present...

There are a few ways to encode binary data on tape designed to handle analog audio, but the KCS approach is to have 1's be 8 cycles of 2400Hz tone, and 0's be 4 cycles of 1200Hz tone. I say cycles, because while 300 baud is the initial specification, there is also a 1200 baud specification available, so the duration of marks vs spaces (another way of saying 1's and 0's), is variable based on that baud rate. Many S-100 computers implemented it, as do a few contemporary proprietary designs.

The big 3 microcomputers of 1977 that revolutionized the industry (Apple II, Commodore PET 2001, and Tandy TRS-80 Model I) each have their own cassette interface implementation. It kept costs down, and it was easy to implement, all things considered. The Apple II and TRS-80 use off-the-shelf cassette deck connections like many other machines, whereas the original variant of the PET had an integrated cassette. Commodore later used external cassette decks with a proprietary connector, whereas many other companies abandoned tape before too long. Hell, even the original IBM PC has a cassette port, not that anybody bothered to use that. Each one used a different encoding format to store their data, rather than KCS.

Here's a sample of what an OSI-formatted tape sounds like.

And here's a Commodore formatted tape, specifically one with VIC-20 programs on it.

I won't subject you to the whole program, or we'd be here all day. The initial single tone that starts the segment is called the "leader", I've truncated it for the sake of your ears, as well as recorded them kinda quietly. I don't have any other tape formats on hand to demonstrate, but I think you get the idea.

You can do alot better than storing programs on tape, but you can also do alot worse -- it beats having to type in a program every time from scratch.

#kansas city standard #cassette tape #commodore vic-20 #ohio scientific

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gurugirl · 1 year

Text

A Good Boy | 2. No Panties?

Summary: Harry goes to visit Y/n and his father for dinner. He tries to be on his best behavior in front of Leo but Y/n is the one that can't hold back.

Note: This is stepmon!reader x stepson!harry - proceed with caution and don't read if you don't like it. Read Part 1 first!

Word Count: 8,857

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, inappropriate & forbidden relationship, age gap, cheating, lying

A Good Boy Masterlist

think I interrupted your dad and yn having sex when I was leaving yesterday. so embarrassed :(

Harry sat in the library at the University and grinned to himself at the text from Leslie. He was scrambling to finish up his essay that was due later that day. He’d slacked off a bit on Sunday. But he felt that had been worth it. He’d already mostly had his paper done anyway. He just needed to format it and add his citations. Maybe an extra sentence or two and clean up his conclusion. But yeah. Worth it.

He felt like his face was still burning hot and he definitely had a hickey on his clavicle. His t-shirt covered the blue mark but he could still feel her lips on his skin and… well… he could also still smell her. Her perfume. Traces of sex. He hadn’t had time to shower before he left that morning. He’d gotten a little sidetracked when he had her sitting in his lap on the kitchen stool and they were coming together one last time before he had to go. It was as if they hadn’t been sharing their bodies with one another for the better part of the day on Sunday and into the wee hours. He loved that she enjoyed him so much. That she’d been able to come (massive ego boost). That she liked his cock (great big, huge ego boost). He really liked her voice when she was panting dirty words to him and the way she used her tongue to get him off and to paint saliva over the inked designs on his skin.

He swallowed hard as he clicked to save the document and sighed. He knew he was in trouble. Because she was his stepmom and he couldn’t really have her. Couldn’t pursue her and invite her to his dorm. Couldn’t visit her on a whim and beg her to do that thing she did with her-

“Harry,” his thoughts were interrupted when he heard Jay and looked up to see his friend, “Tried calling you yesterday, dude. We all went out to brunch. The one that you were supposed to come to. For your birthday? Remember?” Jay sat down across from him with his own laptop.

“Ahh shit. I forgot man. Sorry.” He did forget. He had been quite preoccupied with Y/n all day. And even if he had remembered he wouldn’t have peeled himself away from her to join his friends for an overpriced, subpar brunch to drink away their hangovers. He could do that on any Sunday. But the chance to have his stepmom in her bed all day with her smooth skin and her soft voice in his ear and her tits in his face… well that was not such a common Sunday activity.

“Got hung up with Leslie then?” Jay raised a brow and smirked before looking at his screen.

Harry scratched the back of his neck and blinked his eyes. He hadn’t thought of what he’d say about what happened. And he really wanted to brag that he’d finally had sex. Over and over again. But he couldn’t, “Uh… sort of. I just drank a lot. But… yeah. The hangover was brutal. Spent most of the day in bed.” At least that last part was true.

“You didn’t get laid? Leslie would’ve you know. And she’s a nice girl too. I know you’re looking for someone sweet. She’s into you, H,” Jay shook his head.

Harry decided to not entertain that line of thinking, “I am sorry, though, man. Just completely slipped my mind. Barely made it here this morning. It was a long day yesterday.”

. . .

Y/n threw her sheets into the wash and showered Harry’s scent off her body. Which was a shame because she liked the reminder of him. Her little secret. Not so little really, but quite massive in fact. The secret that is. Of course.

She hated that he needed to go. That he was such a good student and that he took his studies seriously. He had an essay to finish. But also, on the other side of that feeling, she was glad he’d gone when he did because it gave her time to freshen up and get her mind on straight before Leo got home.

Harry had been an absolute surprise to her. Hell, she was a surprise to herself. She’d never done anything so… forbidden. But god was it erotic and it felt so good. Better than good. She was fucked. Even then, she couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face as she sat on The Stool™ and picked at her eggs. Not two hours prior she was coming around him and giving him permission to come inside of her. In that very spot. She wiggled over the stool remembering how his fingers dug into her thighs as he held her steady and moaned into her mouth.

“Ms. Y/n?”

She jumped when she heard Linda’s voice from behind her. She’d nearly forgotten that the housekeeper came on Mondays, “Yes! Hi Linda.”

“I noticed your bed covers are gone. Would you like the satin or cotton?”

“Oh… The cotton is perfect. But with the silk pillowcases, please. Thank you.”

Yes. It was a very good thing that Harry had gone when he did. She couldn’t imagine having to deal with Linda catching them in the act. In the kitchen. On the very stool, she was sat upon.

When Leo came back he left his suitcase near the door and asked Linda to take care of it for him. Y/n greeted him with a hug, “How was it?”

“It was… fine. How was everything here yesterday? We’ll have that all cleaned up today?” He gestured with his chin toward the front door to indicate the yard that still had chairs and tables and lights and a dancefloor in place from the party.

“Yes. In about an hour, they’ll be arriving to pack up everything. And everything was fine here too yesterday.” She smiled.

Leo walked off, presumably to go to his bedroom and shower.

That was easy. Too easy, Y/n decided. She bit her lip and remembered how Harry promised her that no one would need to know. How easy it would be. He was right. Easy peasy.

It all felt like a dream to her as she stepped out into the yard and was reminded of that night. How excited she was but then how confused she felt when they kissed. And then the anger that coursed through her when Harry tried to make her jealous. That had worked. She had been jealous. She didn’t like to admit that but she was. Even with Leonardo, she didn’t care all that much about what he might have been doing last night. But with Harry… her stepson… she shook her head as she walked back inside and decided to do something, anything, to get her mind off him. Because she was already missing him. Missing his dimples and his voice. His pink lips and tattoos. The way his breath smelled like her and his curls that were wild after they showered and he let it air dry.

And she could still feel him too. An entire day of sex was exhausting in the best way. But her body knew where it had been and who it had been with. She still tingled with need despite how satisfied she felt.

Then her eyes roved the kitchen island and she spotted a ring. His ring. A simple thick white gold band. She suddenly had an idea.

. . .

It felt good to turn his fully completed essay in on time despite how rushed it had been last minute. But then that only reminded him of why it was last minute and he was left grinning as he walked back to his dorm.

He figured he was due for a shower as he took a piss after looking down over himself and catching her scent again. Remnants of her were matted into the bit of hair at the base of his prick. It was a pity to wash away her soft feminine perfume but it would have been weird if he didn’t bathe himself. Right?

Turning on his shower he heard his phone ding and he plucked it up quickly, his heart pounding heavily in his chest when he realized it was Y/n.

Left something here. Guess we’re gonna have to figure out a way to get it back to you.

Attached to the message was a photo of her pretty thumb dawning said something. His ring. But that wasn’t the intent of the photo he realized when he took the whole picture in. She was naked behind it. Blurred just enough as a background image but he could see the curve of her waist and her tits and the color of her flesh uninterrupted by any fabric. The details weren’t clear but he knew what it was.

So Harry smirked to himself and took a photo of his own bare finger, sans the ring, and used the focus to keep the details at the forefront clear but have the background with his naked frame blurred.

you’re right. feel naked without it. any suggestions on ways i can have it returned?

He sat his phone down and already his prick was thickening up. From a single fucking text with a photo of blurry flesh tones.

Licking his lips he waited for her to text back but after a minute he decided he could just wash off and rub one out in the meantime.

And perhaps it was all the sex he’d had the day prior, and even that very morning, but his quick shower where he was meant to just come in under two minutes took a little longer. He stroked and stroked and moaned (thank god he had no roommates) and his thighs shook as he was reminded of how Y/n had bent herself over and bared her ass to him just the night before.

“Let’s try it like this. Use your hips to just rail me. Fuck me like you want me to remember you for days, Harry.”

So he did. His thighs were burning as he steadied himself in a hasty rhythm and used his hands to squeeze her bottom and watched as he stuffed his cock into her repeatedly. She rubbed at her clit and cried out each time he bottomed out.

“Spank me. Really hard. Both sides.” Her words were panted as she turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. Her tits swayed at each of his heavy thrusts and he brought his palm down over her ass and she hissed with a grin, “Harder. I know you can do it better than that…. FUCK!”

He guffawed as his next strike caused her to shriek and she moaned and then melted into the mattress as he continued swatting her bare bottom, “God yes. Just like that. You are so good, Harry. Such a good boy.”

He placed his palm onto the linoleum shower as he came. His orgasm poured out of his tip in spurts as he groaned and spoke her name between breaths.

With the towel wrapped around his waist, he smiled when he noted two new texts from her after stepping out of the shower.

Tit for tat I see. I deserved that.

Leo’s leaving this weekend. Friday morning. Won’t be back til Monday night. Perhaps we can arrange something for you to come pick up your ring then?

Harry took a deep breath as he read over her words. He didn’t have classes on Fridays so he could potentially go there Thursday night. But then his dad would still be there. But of course, the sooner he could see her the better. Even if Leo was around.

How’s Thursday night? And I feel like it’s gonna take a few days for me to get over the loss of the ring so if you don’t mind me staying until Monday morning then I think that can work.

. . .

She hated deleting the texts. But it was necessary. It wasn’t as if Leo would ever go through her phone but still. He didn’t care if she had a sidepiece. He would, however, care that her sidepiece was his son. She was certain of that. Even though he hadn’t said specifically, don’t have sex with Harry, he didn’t need to. It was something that went without saying. A moral boundary. She knew better. But she wasn’t sure that she wanted to stop. No, she was sure she didn’t want to stop. Harry was… tender and fun and sexy. He was eager and vibrant. Confident without being egotistical.

There were more photos and suggestive messages over the following days. Until he finally arrived Thursday evening after his last class.

He’d called Leo and told him he was coming over for dinner that night and that he’d stay and leave the following day.

So that’s how Y/n found herself with her little apron floating across the kitchen making dinner for the three of them. She had a little music playing and felt the nerves bubbling out of her tummy. She couldn’t wait to see Harry again. Just to lay eyes on him. To hear his voice. There could be no funny business that night, but she had him for the entire weekend and it was like a dream. She felt like she was in high school again. Heart thumping in her chest, head spinning and swimming. She kept getting interrupted by her thoughts. Wooden spoon in hand, hovering over the bowl with her head in the clouds. Images of what they’d done together, what they would do together.

He seemed to really enjoy eating her out. And his enthusiasm for it was obvious on Sunday when they were curled up together on the couch watching a movie and he dragged her legs over his lap and then asked…

“Can I try again? Want to see if I can make you come.”

His fingers reached up underneath her shorts and slowly dragged along the seam of her panties with his eyes growing dark as he licked his lips, “Please?”

He’d been trying. The first time he hadn’t made her come because she stopped him to have him play with her tits while he was fingering her. The second time she nearly came. Was so close but he couldn’t quite get her to tip. She reassured him that was normal. Most guys couldn’t really make a woman come if they didn’t know her body well enough, “No one has ever made me come from only eating me out. Ever. Don’t feel bad about it, Harry.”

But he wanted to try again. Third time’s a charm and all. So she nodded and he quickly rid her of her shorts and panties and dug in. He did everything he learned she liked and went slowly and softly at first. Watching her intently and moaning into her pussy.

She’d long forgotten the movie they were watching in favor of enjoying the scene with Harry’s mouth and fingers trying to work her to her end.

“Please… I need you to come. What do you need? Tell me exactly what you want so I can be good. Want to be the best for you.”

She thought for a moment. Since she’d never come from cunnilingus she figured maybe it was because she’d never sat on anyone’s face before. Perhaps a change in position…

Harry lay flat on the couch as she straddled his face and put her palms on the cushioned arm as he pulled her down over him and got back to lapping and sucking.

That was good. That felt… really good. The more she settled into the position of having her thighs around his head as she sat over his mouth she began rolling her hips slowly and realized that also felt really good. His nose was perfectly big enough that she could use it on her clit every time she shifted her hips up, but then each time she tilted her pelvis down Harry’s lips and tongue would stimulate her clit. It was perfect. The right amount of soft licking and sucking along with that healthy friction she got from his nose.

When she felt that initial tingle, the spark of her orgasm snaking around to her center she was surprised and relieved. She was finally going to come. And she was glad it was Harry who was doing it.

But Harry was beyond glad. He loved the idea that he could be her first for something. When he felt her quivering and her gasps turned into soft moans and chants of his name as she yanked his hair and ground herself over him his eyes fluttered into the back of his head. She was coming on his face and it was all he ever wanted. He didn’t even know it was anything he’d been missing out on but to have a woman coming from oral sex, from the way he flicked his tongue and kissed her pussy made her lose it and that was the best thing that happened to him all day. Yes, he’d lost his virginity but this was a notch on the belt of experience. This earned him bragging rights.

She collapsed over him when she began to come down and he caught her by her hips before she fell off the edge of the couch, “C’mere. I wanna hold you.” He laughed as he pulled her into his arms before she toppled over the arm of the couch.

She realized how beyond fucked she really was in that moment. With his eyes on hers and his arms holding her to his chest and their hearts beating in synch. He was special to her. His genuine care had her filled with butterflies and confusion, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist him ever again.

She sighed as she shook that memory from her mind. Stay on track, Y/n.

Leo hadn’t made it back from his appointment that afternoon yet but it was LA and traffic was rotten at that time of day. She hoped Harry wasn’t too caught up on the 101.

When her phone chimed with the notice that someone had arrived at the gate she swallowed and tried to keep calm. It could be Harry. It could be Leo. She had her hands deep in soggy flour so she couldn’t check to see which but either way. Harry was going to be there.

She heard the door close and her heart rate picked up. SZA’s Snooze was playing and she grinned to herself at the irony and before she could call out to see who had come in she saw him enter the kitchen. It wasn’t unlike last week when he came in with his duffle bag and that sexy smirk. Except this time it held so many other layers.

“Leo’s not back yet. Had an appointment downtown. How was traffic?” Small talk. That’s how she’d start. Her nerves were on fire as he raised a brow and placed his bag on the floor and sauntered toward her.

She tried following him with her eyes as he walked behind her without a word. Her hands were still stuffed in the flour mixture as Harry pressed his chest to her back and put his arms onto the island on either side of her, “Like this song.”

His voice in her ear was sultry and she knew that drop in his tone. She gasped as he pressed his warm lips to her neck and then swayed her with his crotch glued to her bottom. She closed her eyes and let his proximity and his touch filter into her bones and her veins and her cells. His lips were soft as he moved up toward her cheek and she felt him smile, “Nobody do body like you…” he sang the words quietly and nosed at her cheekbone as he rocked them to the slow beat.

God, she hadn’t been with anyone that was just so naturally good at being sexy and dreamy like Harry. He was a dream. He might have been a virgin before but he was sensual and flirty and exciting in a way she’d never known. He might have not had all that much experience, but he was a natural lover. Thoughtful and romantic without even needing instructions.

“How long til he’s back?” He spoke his words against the corner of her lips as she turned her face toward him. Her lips were already parted and her eyes were closed.

“I don’t know. Traffic is bad. He said he’d be home at five but it’s already six.”

Harry’s hands found her waist as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her mouth. She swooned. She actually swooned, nearly falling and passing out in his arms like one of those Victorian women who wore their corsets too tight and any little excitement would have them fainting.

Harry laughed against her lips, “You okay?”

She nodded and looked at him as he craned his neck to see her eyes, “I need to wash my hands. I’ve got wet flour all over them.”

The grin on Harry’s face was devious as he looked from where her hands were stuffed into the flour and then back to her face. He wasn’t budging at all, “So pretty with this apron on. Didn’t think you could be any prettier but here we are.” His fingers moved down to her hips.

She was wearing a dress. A little short. She wanted to look cute. And her plan to not wear panties was suddenly dawning on her as she felt the tiniest bit of slip on her thighs. She grinned back at him, “Thank you, Harry. Always so polite.”

He nodded and stepped back an inch as he moved his hands from her hips down to her bare thighs, “I try. I do my best to please you, ma’am.” His smirk remained as his finger slowly pushed the hem of her skirt upward, “You don’t mind if I just take a peek?” He tilted his head as he looked at her, his fingers inching up slowly, “To tide me over til tomorrow? Missed you.”

Y/n bit her lip and felt her neck grow warm. He was about to see what she didn’t have on underneath but she nodded, “Okay. Go ahead.”

The fabric of her dress was pulled upward and the air of the kitchen was cool over her backside. Harry groaned as her supple bottom came into view, not a single shred of material to cover herself from him, “Fuck. No panties?”

Her chest rose and fell deeply. She could have him just quickly fuck her. Who knew when Leo would return? It would be risky-

Harry dropped to his knees, “Please… can I have a little taste. Just a…” he smushed his fingers into her bottom and kneaded her flesh apart to get a better glimpse, “Please?”

“God, Harry. Okay.” It was insane. Absolutely nonsensical for this to be happening but it was. His tongue roved her folds as he moaned and lapped at her from behind. Slick and warm with his fingers biting into her skin. But when he slid his fingers over her clit she gasped and leaned forward to allow him more and Harry dug his face into her deeper.

It was quite the scene. From the front of the kitchen, one would only see Y/n leaned over the counter with her apron and hands in the bowl of dough, her eyes closed and mouth dropped open as she panted his name. But just behind the island, hidden from view, there was her stepson, eating her out with her ass bared to him and his tongue plowing through her labia.

Suddenly they heard the door close and Harry quickly stood up and wiped his arm over his face as he backed away from his stepmom and turned to the sink to wash his hands.

His cock was so hard but luckily his dark jeans would hide what he had going on.

Y/n was still panting with dark eyes as Leo stepped into the kitchen, “My son!” He crossed the room and wrapped Harry in a quick hug before backing away.

That was a close call. Y/n tried regulating her breathing as she pulled her fingers out of the dough and smiled at Leo, “He just got here. You both have great timing! Dinner will be ready in about an hour.” She lifted her sticky fingers and moved to the sink to rinse her hands off as Harry said something to his dad about traffic and then excused himself to go up to his room for a bit. Her teeth dug into her lip as she looked down into the sink at her flour-covered fingers and imagined Harry taking care of himself in his bedroom as he thought of her. She didn’t miss the way his prick started to stiffen when he was pressed into her back as he kissed her neck.

It was crazy to Y/n how quickly she could shift from being blushy and hot to being composed and cool in front of Leo. Dinner was plated and the three of them sat outside in the garden overlooking the pool.

Leo picked out a nice cabernet for them to share and Harry sipped a glass of tequila. She tried not to pay too much attention to Harry’s hands as he ate and grasped his glass. Or his lips as she spoke. She glanced at his jaw a few times as he chewed his bites and she spoke about the tennis club and then they got onto the topic of the war in Ukraine.

As cold as Leonardo was, he was at least of sound mind when it came to politics. He was liberal and he was quite a forward thinker. He was fair in his opinions. At least.

Her second glass of wine had her ears warming up and she felt more relaxed. No one would have guessed she was a ball of nerves but she was. Harry being at the table with his soft green eyes finding hers every few minutes as they spoke felt especially weighty when Leo was there too.

But on the surface, everything appeared as normal.

“And how are your grades?” Leo asked his son.

Harry perked up and nodded, “Good. All A’s. Nearly missed turning in a complete essay on Monday after that party but got it in just in time and got a 90 on it. Felt pretty good.” He pulled his lips inward to hide the grin that threatened to make its appearance as he caught Y/n’s gaze on him. Their expressions were similar. A knowing look. A secret only they shared.

“Figured. You’re always an excellent student. Never have to worry about you mucking it up do I?” Leo boasted.

“He is a great student. I even offered for him to stay longer on Sunday to relax but he was so intent on getting his schoolwork done instead. It’s quite impressive.” She didn’t need to chime in. Her words were a lie. Though she did know he was a great student, and that was impressive.

Harry smiled down at his plate before letting his eyes wander up to Y/n’s, “Thank you, ma’am. I take pride in learning and being good at what I do.”

She clenched her jaw and stifled a small titter she nearly let out. His innuendo wasn’t missed by her, “It shows too,” she spoke wryly and then bit into her roasted cauliflower.

His nostrils flared as he mimicked her by biting into a forkful and chewing hastily.

When they’d finished up dinner, they all made their way to the heated pool after changing into their swimwear.

It was… a task. A task to not look at Harry’s lean muscles and tattoos. The soft part of his hips that gave way to the elastic of his yellow trunks. His strong thighs. She swallowed to moisten her throat at the sight of him with dimples as he laughed at something Leo said.

But she felt his eyes on her as she stepped into the pool. She pretended not to be bothered by knowing his eyes were scanning her in small increments. He couldn’t gawk at her in front of his father, but he could take subtle glances to feast on.

To Harry, though, he wasn’t getting enough. He wanted to paste his eyes onto her body and allow himself to splurge on her tummy and her back. He was already keyed up a bit at the idea of having his brains fucked out all weekend. He knew he could be patient. He had to be. Leo joked around with Harry about Leslie a bit. Even he thought his own son was getting girls left and right. He had no idea that Harry had been a virgin until only days prior.

“I’m glad you came over today so I could spend a little time with you. Haven’t done anything like this in a while. And your birthday party doesn’t count either.”

The sun started to go down, oranges and pinks covering the horizon toward the Pacific Ocean, as they listened to music over the blue tooth speakers, and the subject of conversation had started on sports. Y/n zoned out a little. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy sports, but in comparison to Leo, she was nearly clueless. She watched the dusk take over what had been a bright blue sky only thirty minutes earlier and smiled to herself as Harry’s voice floated over the water toward her as he spoke to his father.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom. Be right back!” Harry spoke as he pulled his wet body out of the pool, climbing up onto the patio, his body dripping with water as he padded his way toward the back of the house.

Leo placed his back toward the edge of the pool and rested against it, “What do you have planned this weekend? Going out tomorrow with the girls?”

“Oh… I might. I’m not sure. Actually, Cyndee wasn’t feeling well this morning so we’re just playing it by ear. Tennis club Saturday. Maybe just hang out here in the pool. Relax. Not much. Bet you’re gonna have a good time in the Hamptons.”

Just as Leo was about to respond his phone rang and he cursed under his breath as he pulled himself out of the pool, in much the same way Harry had only moments before. He wiped his hands on his towel before lifting his cell phone up to his ear and holding a finger out to Y/n as he walked toward the back of the house to take the call.

Looking out to the horizon, the pinks had turned purple and the sky grew darker. The music on the speakers was some sort of slow hip-hop song she wasn’t familiar with but she liked the beat. Easy and a little sexy. From her peripheral, she saw Harry walking toward the pool.

She turned her head and grinned, “That was fast.”

Harry wore a small frown and slid into the water right next to his stepmom, “Yeah. Just went to the pool house. And um…” he turned to look back toward the house and lowered his voice, “Is he cheating on you, Y/n?”

The breath in her lungs stilled at his question. She wasn’t sure how much Harry knew about her and his father’s situation but she knew she hadn’t told him everything. And she knew that it was unlikely he would be privy. It wouldn’t have been his business in any normal circumstance. But theirs was not a normal circumstance.

Shaking her head she let out the breath she was holding and looked at his kind eyes brushing her fingers in between his under the warm water, “Not really. We have an agreement… But we don’t discuss the details with each other. We are free to see other people. But don’t tell your dad I said anything.”

Harry’s frown remained as he shook his head, “Of course, I would never say anything. Are you… seeing other people too?”

“No. God no. Since I married Leo I haven’t been interested in seeing anyone else. Until you.”

The frown lines slowly disappeared as his soft lips curved up, “Yeah? Really? You’ve been free to be with anyone? But it’s just me?”

Harry’s hand grasped her thigh as he stood only inches from her in the pool. Definitely closer than appeared innocent.

Nodding her head and letting him pull at her leg she spoke in a murmur after looking over Harry’s shoulder to make sure they were in the clear, “Just you, baby. You’re all I want.”

His demeanor changed back into his bright and confident self at her words, “So if I ask you really nicely you’ll give me anything I want, right? S’what you said Sunday.”

Y/n breathed out a laugh and cocked her head, “Depends. Tell me what you want.”

Harry’s fingers moved up her thigh slowly as he spoke in a whisper, “Let me come to your room tonight.”

She raised her brows and scoffed, “Well that certainly wasn’t asking nicely was it? Sounded more like you telling me.”

He licked his lips and dropped his gaze to her mouth, “Please, ma’am,” the smirk on his face deepened his adorable dimples, “Can I come to your room tonight? After he’s asleep?” He motioned with his chin toward the back of the house indicating his father.

“And what do you think is going to happen if you are allowed to come to my room tonight?” She tried hiding her own grin but it was futile. Harry’s smile and the way his hand was pasted to the inside of her thigh, only a hand’s distance from the crotch of her bikini bottom was making her feel dizzy.

“Whatever you want ma’am. I’ll do anything. Even if it’s just to hold you.” His tongue swiped over his bottom lip and his eyes were hooded. He was turned on.

Letting her hand drift toward his swim shorts she grazed her fingers over his crotch and sucked in a small breath as she kept her eyes on his, “Poor thing. When was the last time you came Harry?”

A laugh puffed out of his nose as he continued speaking in a low whisper, “This morning.”

Looking at the house and back to Harry she cupped him in her hand and moaned lightly, “Oooh… I see. A horny thing aren’t you? What did you think about?” She slid her hand into the waistband of his trunks and wrapped her palm around his smooth shaft and watched as his lips parted and he closed his eyes to take it in.

“You. You’re all I think about, Y/n.”

“Me?” She spoke into his ear as he opened his eyes to look at her, “I’m so flattered. What do you imagine? Am I sucking you off in your fantasy? Are you fucking me? Tell me about it?”

She was surprised by the way he was looking at her. As if he were the dominant. The aggressor, yet she knew he’d bend immediately if she told him to. She loved his moxie. Loved how he oozed confidence despite the way he’d beg her and whimper for her.

His fingers found the edge of the fabric of her bikini at the lower part of her hip and poked a finger in, moving it down toward her inner thigh, “This morning I imagined I was eating you out. Came all over myself in my bed wishing you were sitting on my face smothering me with your pussy.”

She’d met her match. Harry was not shy to say dirty things. He was submissive to her but he was still very much able to keep her on her toes. She swallowed and nearly pulled him down so she could kiss him but she saw Leo return and quickly released Harry’s dick and leaned back into the edge of the pool to act as if they’d only been talking.

Both Y/n and Harry were a mess until it was bedtime. Harry was thankful his boner went down before he got out of the pool and Y/n was just glad that the wet between her legs was disguised by pool water.

“I’ve got to get up at like 5 am so I’m gonna go to bed. Harry stay up as late as you like bud,” he leaned in and kissed Y/n’s forehead as they all stood in the kitchen, “Probably won’t see you in the morning. I’ll call you later after I land.”

When Leo had gone upstairs and Y/n put away the clean dishes from the dishwasher Harry was seated at the island quietly.

“You gonna go to bed? Or are you not tired?” Y/n asked as she pulled out a stool to sit on.

Harry glanced down at the empty stool between them and back up to his stepmom, “Not particularly tired no. Was hoping you had an answer for me. About the question I politely asked you earlier.”

Sighing she put her elbows onto the marble and kept her gaze on Harry’s, “You know this can only work if we don’t get caught.”

He nodded, “We won’t. I’ll be quiet as a mouse.”

She smiled and sat up, “Do you smoke weed?”

Harry blinked his eyes at the sudden change of topic and nodded, “Yeah. Not like every day but often.”

She bit her lip and looked at the corner of the room. Contemplating whether she should or not. She should. She definitely should. And why not? It was just a little weed. And she needed to calm down. As composed as she appeared, she was vibrating with nerves and her body ached for him but she knew they couldn’t do anything tonight.

“Come with me.” She jumped down from the stool and Harry followed her upstairs to her room. She closed the door and locked it before crouching down in front of her dresser and opening up the bottom drawer, retrieving a box and lifting it upward, “My stash. If you ever need some and I’m not here, you’re welcome to it.” She spoke as she stood up and opened the lid.

“Wow. My stepmom’s a stoner. Had no idea.” Harry laughed quietly as he stood behind Y/n and looked over her shoulder down into the box.

“I’m not! I just like a puffy treat once in a while. Something to help me sleep and calm my anxiety.” She pulled out a joint and a lighter.

“You have anxiety?”

She shrugged as she walked across the room toward the large window that looked out to the backyard, “Kind of. Not diagnosed or anything but low level. I get anxious sometimes. This helps to make my mind chill a little.”

She sparked up the tip and inhaled as she unhooked the window lock and pushed the glass outward to open up before blowing the plume out into the night air.

Harry nodded at her words. He supposed it was the same for him. Low level. Normal levels he imagined. He took the joint she passed him and drew the cannabis into his lungs.

After a few lungfuls each Harry could feel the softening of his nerves and yet, it did nothing to calm how aroused he was around Y/n, “So does this mean you’re gonna let me stay in your bed with you tonight?”

She stamped out the joint and placed it on the windowsill before turning to look up at Harry. She was ready to jump his bones but she knew they had to be quiet. They could get to the juicy stuff tomorrow. Perhaps that evening would just be about being close and talking in whispers.

“Yeah. But no sex. It’s too loud. We have plenty of time for that all weekend,” her grin was adorable and Harry couldn’t help himself when he grasped her chin and kissed her lips.

It took her by surprise but she melted into him quickly as she wrapped her arms around him. Harry walked her backward to her bed and pulled her in with him before parting from the kiss, “Like I said. I’ll take anything you give me. No sex is fine with me.”

The problem with lying in a bed naked (Harry didn’t want to go and get his sweatpants from his bedroom and since he was naked he insisted that Y/n be naked with him and she easily obliged) with your brand new lover after having smoked a little weed is that it’s hard not to be horny. It’s hard to keep a ‘no sex’ rule when you still have so much to explore and the person you’d love to explore is lying right next to you without a shred of clothing covering anything.

Harry tried not to let his hands wander. He kept his palm over her hip, only letting his thumb travel over her skin softly as he spoke. And she kept her hand a safe distance from his cock, which was thick and hard, ready to be used.

“Well, when I graduated last year it was the same. All the professors really just wanted their students to get a good grade so they were always helpful and then would offer extra credit. You’ll be fine, Harry. You’re so smart.”

“Feels that way. Which is nice. I like having a little bit of a break.”

Y/n kept her eyes on his as he spoke and then they were quiet for a moment when Y/n was reminded of something, “What did you hear Leo saying that made you ask me if he was cheating?”

Harry didn’t stop his slow touches over her sides as he spoke, “I heard him say that he had to keep his voice down because his wife and his son were nearby. Then he said he couldn’t wait to see them either, but it sounded like he was speaking to a woman or like a lover. Not a friend.”

She nodded and squinted her eyes. She hadn’t known Leo to be sneaking away for calls to lovers. She always imagined that anyone he might have on the side would be a once or twice sort of thing. Someone who might not even have his number. But perhaps she was wrong.

But she wasn’t upset. She had Harry in her bed and his dark curls were messy with the way she ran her fingers through it earlier. She scraped her nails lightly over his pecs.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice barely came out above a whisper.

“Harry…” she looked into his eyes and then down between them and moaned softly, letting her hand travel down just a little, “If you kiss me it’s not gonna stop there. And you know it.”

The smirk on his lips edged upward on the right side of his mouth, “So you’re saying you can’t resist, is that right?”

She laughed and rolled her eyes, “No. I’m saying you can’t resist.”

Harry shook his head and rounded his eyes innocently, “Ma’am, with all due respect…” his nostrils flared as he spoke in jest, fingers digging into her hip, “I will do literally anything you tell me to. And if you say we’re not going to have sex, then I will resist. It’s you who makes all the decisions here. I’m simply following your lead. And all I’m asking for is a kiss.”

He had a point and she knew that was the truth. She wanted to fuck his brains out, that was the reality. And if his pillowy lips wrapped around hers and his tongue lapped at hers she’d be climbing over him and attaching herself to his cock.

Instead of answering she continued pushing her hand down his abs and toward his heavy cock, softly ghosting her fingers over his tip and he keened.

“Fuck…” Harry breathed out his words and he closed his eyes.

“I wish we could, Harry. But we can’t. It’s too risky.” She wanted to grasp him in her hand but she only brushed her fingers over him. Just to touch. Just a little.

His hand moved up from her hip and over her arm to her neck and then her face, “Fine with me. Love just being here with you. What would you do with me if we could right now?”

Y/n licked her lips and pushed her face into his touch as she scooted into him closer, “I’d have you creampie me and then I’d climb onto your face and make you eat your come out of my pussy until I orgasm.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open and the tiniest whine from the back of his throat sounded, “Fuck. I want that. Can we try that first thing in the morning?”

Nodding her head she felt his fingers drop to her jaw, gently rubbing his knuckles over her skin, “Definitely. Yeah.”

His face was so close to hers. She was throbbing already, clenching tight as her skin heated up under his gaze. He looked like he could devour her and it made her heart thrash in her chest.

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up? You like that, don’t you? Then I’ll let you smear it all over my face, clean you all up with my tongue and make you wish you were married to me. There’s no way I’d ever want anyone else if I had you.”

Y/n’s eyes went wide for a moment but she actually couldn’t be mad at that. If she wasn’t so far gone and horny out of her mind she might have scolded him for that but instead, she groaned softly and pulled him in for the kiss she’d been desperate for.

She hadn’t meant to. Not really. She was going to just lie with him and fall asleep and keep things quiet and tame. But she couldn’t stop it. She needed him. Needed him to soothe her ache and her heart.

Harry trembled as he pulled her in closer and opened his mouth for her, kissing her back wetly as his mouth was already watering. He was going to get what he wanted. He smiled into the kiss knowing where it was leading as she pulled him on top of her and she spread her legs, “Fuck me and come inside of me. If you make one peep we’re stopping.”

Harry breathed in and out slowly to ground himself as he lined his tip up to her sodden entrance. She was soaked. And puffy. Her clit was standing at attention because of how aroused she was. How aroused he made her.

He plunged into her and dropped his mouth wide as she closed her eyes and panted at the feel of him, “Yes…” she whispered.

Harry’s face was set in anguish as he rocked into her. His cock had been so hard and already leaked from the tip before she even kissed him. It was only going to be a matter of minutes before he was going to fill her up like she wanted.

Wet, sloppy sex sounded in the room and her mattress gave way to their weight at each of Harry’s thrusts. He was good to keep quiet but Y/n was struggling the most as she peeped the tiniest moans and then breathed his name softly as she felt him throbbing inside of her.

“Come inside of me, baby. Give me your come. Want it…”

Harry was quivering and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as his penis was sheathed in her tight pussy. It was warm and wet and his cock felt so good moving inside of her that he couldn’t hang on one moment longer. He clenched his teeth and his balls tightened as he fucked into her, his orgasm filling her to the brim. His ears rang as he came and his chest heated up from ecstasy.

Y/n watched in awe. Harry was good. He stayed quiet but even better was the way he felt when he was orgasming inside of her. His heavy cock pumped and throbbed and she felt every one of his ridges and shot of come that poured out from his tip. Perhaps it was the weed that made her so sensitive but it was an incredible feeling.

And Harry was blown away by having an orgasm inside of Y/n while he was a little high. He’d never trembled so hard in his life but he couldn’t stop shaking as he came and eventually calmed from his orgasm. He was shivering still as he held himself up over her with a grin. Proud that he’d managed to stay completely quiet.

“Good boy. Just like I told you. Now, you ready to use that mouth to clean me up? I need to come so bad, Harry.”

He nodded as his shaky limbs steadied himself, pulling out and then quickly grasping her ankles and lifting her legs upward to see it. To watch the bit of his creamy come drip from her pussy.

“S’pretty isn’t it?” She asked as she watched his face. He’d gotten lots of eyefuls of his creampies on Sunday. He nodded and then released her legs before plopping down on his back and scooting himself into position so she could climb on.

Before lowering her pussy to his mouth she watched as his come dripped over his lips and kept her hands at the headboard, “Eat it.”

Harry licked his lips and swallowed before opening his mouth again and looking up at her eyes. He just wanted her to sit on him so he could make her come.

The moment her cunt covered his lips she gasped when he pulled at her clit and his tongue lapped up her messy pussy. Swallowing his come mixed with her sticky arousal he moaned softly into her.

She grasped onto his hair as she gyrated over him, rubbing herself on his lips and over his nose, her pussy was on fire from need and desperation and the prickle of his facial hair.

“Fucking gonna make me come, baby. Oh my god, Harry…” she panted her words as quietly as she could while she used his face for her pleasure. Harry tried to keep his eyes open but she was riding his face roughly and it was almost impossible. He wanted to watch her tits bounce and the way her lips parted, wanted to watch her come as he ate her out. He forced his eyes open every few moments to see her riding his face as he held on to her thighs.

She began to spiral into a boiling-hot orgasm as her thighs nearly gave out from the exertion of her muscles. Looking down at where she was rubbing herself on him she was struck by his vibrant green eyes on hers as she began to come. The tight cord inside of her snapped and she gushed over his face. His nose was amazing. She kept bumping her clit into it and riding over the tip of it but being sure to give him air in between.

His face was shiny and pink and his eyes were droopy by the time she caught her breath. She shakily moved herself to lie over his body, pressing her chest into his and nuzzling into his neck. She was spent. He was spent.

Not only was it late, but they were both a little high from the joint they shared. Tired was an understatement.

She could have fallen asleep right over his chest like she was. Harry wrapped his arms around her and spoke quietly, “We should clean up. I’m all sticky and wet.”

Y/n groaned and smiled as she looked up at him. The handsome young man with her wet arousal smeared all over his face, “You’re right. Then we’ll go to sleep.”

The moment they were cleaned and snuggled under the covers with limbs intertwined Harry drifted off into a dreamless sleep. Y/n was sure that having Harry in her bed was the best part of their affair. His warm limbs loosened and his heartbeat slowed as he began to lightly snore with his mouth open. He was adorable. Not just adorable. He was striking and self-assured. He was smart and gentle. He was affectionate.

She hadn’t realized how much she missed affection. She’d been without it for so long that she thought the affection her friends gave her was quite enough. But now that she had a taste of Harry’s sunny smile and his tender heart she wasn’t sure she could go back to the once-per-week schedule of sex and then separate rooms after. The occasional hug and kiss. That just wouldn’t do anymore. Harry was forbidden but she was already hooked.

A/N: The next part will be their “quiet” weekend together 👀

3. Overheard

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