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chososdiscordkitten · 3 months

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Begging For Attention.

Synopsis: Trying to focus on a work assignment thats due tonight, only Satoru needs your attention.

Pairing: Gojo x Fem!Reader Content: Some plot, established relationship, gojo being too pretty, masturbation, exhibitionism (?), voyeurism (?), cock warming, doggy, a very light sprinkle of manhandling like barely there, cream pie

Dedicated to: this ask, ily🕷️ anon.

MDNI

Satoru always found it rather tedious whenever you’d ‘purposefully’ start working in his presence. Knowing his time was limited as it was- and here you were, typing voraciously in the apartment office.

“Do you need something Satoru?” you sighed, not even bothering to look up from the various pieces of paper in front of you. Being able to feel his gaze on you as you tried working.

Satoru held his hand on the doorknob, dramatically exhaling, “Just miss you s’all.” he mumbled, swinging the door back and forth as you flipped through the various pages, trying to find a specific sentence you had read a few days ago.

You scoffed, placing the various pages onto the desk and typing on the computer again. Satoru kept swinging the door back and forth, a small squeak coming from the hinges every time he moved it. All but telling you to look at him, just look at him and he’ll leave you alone.

Squeak, squeak, squeak-

You exasperated, looking up from the computer with pursed lips, “Satoru.” you called through clenched teeth.

“I said I miss you.”

“I heard you.” you mumbled looking back down to the papers as he exhaled, trying to think of ways to pull your attention from your work.

Satoru smiled, a seemingly smart idea popping into his head as he pulled the door closed- leaving it a smidge open, knowing you'd notice. Hoping you'd call him back just to close the door. But you didn’t- you sighed and kept your eyes on the screen.

It wasn't long till Satoru was back at the door frame, your favorite mug in hand. You flashed your eyes up, noticing he was missing a shirt and was wearing his plaid pj pants very, very low on his hips. “Thirsty?” he asked sweetly, holding the mug in his hand as you scowled.

And Jesus, did he fucking look good. His carved torso looked like he just glazed a light layer of baby oil on the ridges, the light happy trail that was all too visible from how low the band of his pj’s were.

You gulped lightly, “If you're trying to tempt me it won’t work ‘toru.” reaching your hand out to the coffee cup and watching the smirk on his face broaden, as though your declaration was a useless attempt at a lie.

You took the cup from his hand, making sure to keep your eyes on his face. Just to be sure he wouldn’t tempt you.

Gojo smiled, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of your head before leaning down to your ear, “I'll be in bed if you need me.” he mumbled in an alluring tone. Far too close- his lips practically brushing against the shell of your ear.

You shook your shoulders in a shudder- hearing him huff a smile before leaving the room.

It pained you knowing his attempts were somewhat working. Finding yourself skimming the pages and not processing anything that you read. Every blink you took, a half-naked Satoru flashed in your mind.

You sighed, not being able to focus on the document that was due tonight. Blinking your eyes back to the cracked door Gojo left open purposefully. Toying with the idea of abandoning the document that was a quarter away from being done.

You shook off the thought, picking up a pen and staring back down at the stack of meaningless pages. An unknown amount of time that felt like hours passed, still trying to focus on the black ink.

That was till you heard a loud exaggerated moan seep into the room from the little crack of the door. You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to think if you were imagining it or not.

That was till you heard another- this time your name practically shouted from the bedroom as your eyes widened.

Muffles of ‘-feeelllsss sooo goood,’ in a pornographic voice spill into the room. Your cheeks tingle realizing this was just another scheme to pull you from your work. You sighed, standing up from the rolling chair and slamming the door shut. Loud enough for Satoru to hear.

Gojo was so loud, that even with the door closed, you could hear your name sprinkled between his ear-splitting whines. The bad part was, you didn't know if he was just pretending or if he was actually jacking off. Even worse was how curious you were to see if he was.

Instead of caving- or keeping up this act of you not being tempted by him, you thought up a way to find out if he was doing what you thought he was doing.

You stood up from the chair, opening the door of the office, and immediately hearing the moans coming from the opened door of your bedroom. Nodding your head disapprovingly as you stepped to the doorframe. Looking into the bedroom and seeing that he was indeed- stroking himself on full display.

With an inhale you stepped into the room, avoiding eye contact and walking to your work bag. “You don't- hah,” Satoru tried saying, stroking himself as you crouched to the ground, pulling out a folder and looking through stray pages. “You don't knock anymore?” he huffed, pressing his head back onto the headboard as you sighed.

You scoffed, “This is my room too, ‘toru.” going through the pages before standing. Looking at him with feigned annoyance, watching as he started smiling. His eyebrows furrowed, dramatizing more whimpers as he reached his free hand out to the empty side of the bed.

Gojo huffed a smile, continuing to stroke himself lazily. His previous orgasm coating his tummy proved to you- he was dedicated to luring you away from your work.

“You look stressed-” he whined with a veiled cunning tone, “Join me~” patting your side of the bed softly. Satoru’s tone grew more and more breathless the more you stared at him, as though he was getting off on being watched.

You gave a warm smile, holding the folder of papers you pretended to look for in your hand. “You look like you're doin’ just fine on your own.” you tilted your head sweetly, watching his expression fall along with the pace his wrist kept.

Taking a step towards the door, “Try and keep it down, kay?” you spoke sweetly, practically being able to see the pout form on his lips as you stepped out of the room. Walking back to the office with a tingle roaming on your cheeks, knowing he did all that just to tempt you.

One thing about Satoru was, you could always count on him to make you feel desired. If you were trying to focus on your work- he still made you know that he wanted you- even if you were ignoring him.

As you settled back into the office chair- you knew that thinking about trying to complete your work was futile. Pretty much being able to hear the cogs in Gojo’s brain churn a few feet away.

It wasn't long before the office door opened, a head full of lily-white hair peeking through the cracked door with a meek smile. A small giggle left his throat as he fully stepped in, noticing he had the courtesy of wiping off his previous mess from his tummy.

Satoru’s cock in full view- uncaring if it was throbbing from how worked up he got from knowing you were watching him.

You inhaled, “Satoru..” muttered through clenched teeth, watching him ease himself into the chair in front of your desk. His cheeks blushed and a light sheen of sweat on his chest. You furrowed your eyebrows, all but asking him what he was doing.

“This is my office too~” he sassed, watching your eyes flash back and forth from his flushed face down to your computer. Gojo lightly placed his hand back onto his shaft, “You're always sooo mean to me-” he inhaled, stroking himself as you tried your very best to keep your eyes on your computer.

Pinching his eyebrows while lightly pumping himself, sighing a small moan as he melted into the chair. “You're dirtying my chair.” You mumbled, pretending to type on your computer.

Satoru let out a pleased half-laugh, thralling his head back and letting out a small moan. “And I'm not- mean to you.” You scoffed, being able to hear the vulgar squelches from his hand.

He exhaled with a light, ‘hah’ biting his lip and jerking himself harsher- “Keep talking-” he grinned with a whimper, “I'm almost-” he inhaled, his chest rising and falling as you scoffed, “M’almost t-there.”

“You’re so nasty ‘toru.” you mumbled, playing into his game and peeking your eyes past the top of your computer, being able to see the very tip of his leaky flushed cock.

Gojo whined a delirious breath, being able to feel your eyes on his skin. He hissed through clenched teeth, “I like when you talk to me like that~”

Though the moans from earlier were all too dramatized and blatantly fake- the ones he was huffing out now were straight from his lungs, unable to filter them as you nodded your head unamused.

Satoru was grunting- showing you he was so fucking close. His wrist shook as he tried to avoid his tip. You could see his chest rising and falling more often, fully expecting him to spill his seed on the floor of your office. Only he pulled his hand away at the very last millisecond, whining desperately as though you were the one edging him.

With a sigh, you looked up from your computer and pursed your lips, knowing he would keep this up till you addressed him. Watching the corners of his mouth curl into an appeased smile, knowing you were close to caving. “What’s your goal here, ‘toru.” you crossed your arms on the desk. His eyes sparkling at your question, being able to see the shine circle his pupil.

A sweet giggle leaves Gojo’s throat knowing you've buckled. “I just wanna feel you~” He pouted. Watching your lip tug up with a scoff.

“You're insufferable.” you laughed, standing up from your chair and watching his face light up.

It was true, the minute he walked in, mug in hand and looking fucking scrumptious- you had discarded this useless idea of working.

The second he whispered that little comment in your ear;

“If you need me-”

Denying him the attention he was so clearly asking for became foreplay. From the second he walked out of the office, you knew it, Gojo knew it. Why keep playing this little charade?

You quirked your head- guiding him to sit in your chair as you hooked your fingers onto the sides of your bottoms. Watching Satoru settle into your chair, “I’m gonna finish this. You stay still till I do.” stepping out of your spoiled panties and watching his eyes light up with excitement. Nodding his head up and down as though he knew what you meant.

Satoru sat impatiently in your chair, waiting for you to step between his knees.

And as you planted your hands on the wooden desk top, Satoru placed one palm on your hip as he held the base of his dribbling cock with the other- awaiting you to sink onto him.

Gojo helped your entrance align with his cockhead, a gasp falling from his lips as he felt your soaked cunt take him in with ease. “You got this wet from jus’ watching’ me?” he huffed, hearing soft whimpers fall from your lips as his length stretched you with a light sting.

“God ‘toru- shut up.” You hissed, feeling his tip brush against your sweet spot in passing. Coaxing a shuddering exhale to leave your lips, Satoru grunted when he felt his cock fully rest inside of you- so ready to feel you drag yourself up from his lap.

Only you didn't. You stayed still and tried getting used to the feeling of his tip twitching inside of you.

With a light sigh, you placed your hands back onto the keyboard, rereading the last sentence you wrote before hesitating to start typing. Satoru scoffed, pressing his chin on your shoulder as his hands held onto the malleable skin of your hips.

“You're not gonna move baby?” he mumbled, huffing a warm breath against your ear as you scoffed.

Satoru shifted his hips beneath you, causing his cock to nudge against your walls. A quiet moan fell from your lips at the movement, “I told you- stay still until I finish this.” you sighed, trying to finish the sloppy sentence on the screen.

He grunted into your ear, frustrated that this was all he would get till you were finished. “You said you wanted to feel-” he shifted his hips again, pushing your hips down onto his cock. Causing you to let out a small moan. “Satoru!” you scolded, being able to feel his cheeks rise against your neck in a smile at your reprimand.

“Okay, okay. I'll behave.” he shuddered, holding your hips with a mean grip as you started typing again.

And Satoru tried, he really did. But with every single little shift of your hips and every hiss of ‘Stop moving.’ Gojo got more, and more impatient.

So to tempt you- yet again. Satoru dipped his hand between your thighs, being able to hear your typing halt and your shoulders tense against his chin. You were about to scold him- but he pressed his fingertips onto your neglected clit softly, a sigh leaving your lips in response with a wave of goosebumps rising on your arms. “Toru-” you gasped, feeling his fingers lazily circle your clit.

“Lemme make you feel good~” he hummed into your ear, being able to feel your cunt clench around his cock in tandem with every little circle he made.

You inhaled, easing your hands off of the keys and closing your eyes. Dissolving in his hands, the one on your hip guiding you to raise yourself a little, sighing as you slowly rose off of his lap.

His fingers made firmer circles on your clit as his hand led you to sink back down onto his cock. And then back up again with small whimpers leaving your lips. Bracing your hands on the edge of the desk as you lazily bounced on his cock.

Gojo inhaled with a small entertained laugh, watching you struggle to keep a set pace, “So much for your little docu-” you clenched your walls at his teasing remark causing him to let out a moan mixed with a hiss.

Satoru only offered quiet exhales and frustrated whimpers at your attempts. Being shoved into the chair with every agonizingly slow bounce you sank onto his cock. Gojo tapped your hip lightly, all but saying to hang on for a second.

You held yourself on the very tip of his cock, the muscles of your walls pulsing against his cockhead. Satoru slightly raised himself from the chair, sliding his cock back into you. His hand guided your hip to bend over the desk, feeling his hips press against the curve of your ass as he bent with you.

Keeping his pace steady on your clit as he ground his hips against you, “f-faster ‘toru-” you moaned as he pressed his forehead onto your nape trying to focus on not cumming already.

Though he denied your request, he quickened the pace of his fingers on your clit.

Gojo let out a small whimper, “I go any faster and I'll c-cum-” he whined, being able to feel you getting closer and closer with every twitch and tremble your cunt reverberated onto his cock.

It wasn't long before you started warning you were close, his slow strokes barely nudging against that sweet spot making your head fuzzy. So close to an orgasm- you could taste it. And Satoru could feel it pulse against his shaft.

Gojo placed the hand on your hip atop yours that was splayed on the wooden top. Whining against your ear as you clenched around him. And that's when Satoru pulled his hips from you, taking a split second to breathe before snapping his hips back into you with a low grunt. Dragging out his cock in a hurry- thrusting back into you and syncing the roll of his hips with the unpatterned movements against your clit. Writhing back into him as his hips drilled into you, Satoru’s breathless whines brushed against your ear, feeling your walls flutter around his shaft.

“Cum inside ‘toru-” you huffed in a breathy moan, feeling his chest press against your back, keeping a relentless pace with his hips. Satoru let out a loud whimper at your words- his fingers stuttering their circles against you.

A fussy breath left his throat as he tried to speak, “m’cumm- im cu-” Gojo tried warning, his eyes squeezed tight and his eyebrows pinched together. Though you couldn't see it, his cheeks were flushed with a rosy pink. A light glaze on his forehead from his efforts of trying not to cum.

Finally unloading himself into you- dense spurts of his seed coating your walls. A low moan fell from your lips at feeling his hand slow against your clit. Incoherent curses littered with whimpers between them were breathed into your ear as he slowed his hips. His seed dared to spill out with every little thrust he took.

Satoru’s pelvis wanted to keep thrusting- wanting to try and ride down from the edged orgasm you milked from him. But in his mind, he needed to get back at you for your earlier denials.

Huffing heavy breaths against the shell of your ear as his hips steadied, keeping his cock nuzzled deep inside of you- fearing the tiniest movement would cause your cunt to start spilling his hard-earned cum. And that? Satoru was not ready for.

So as an effort to keep as much of his thick seed inside of you, he placed his hand back onto your hip. Making sure to keep your cunt still as he eased both of you back onto the chair, your body malleable to his manhandling.

Your thighs spasm lightly as you come down from your orgasm. Feet daring to stumble as he eased down into the chair, holding your hip with his messied hand and the other making sure you didn't move on his lap.

It took a second to realize what Satoru was doing- blinking a few times before realizing he reached his hand to your keyboard, pulling it closer to you with an obvious smile. His breath still tickling your ear as he puffed an amused grin, “Let's just go to the bedroom ‘toru-” you whined, hoping he still had enough in him to keep going.

But the small laugh that was wisped against your ear made you realize that not only- did he have more than enough in him to keep going. But you knew he was just stubborn and cruel enough to do this to you.

His cock refused to soften inside of you, being able to feel his overstimulated cockhead twitch inside your stuffed cunt. Gojo pressed his flushed lips to your ear in a lazy peck, “You said this was due tonight~” he murmured into your ear as he held your hip still with one hand.

“Finish it and then we can play.” He giggled against your ear causing you to shiver in his grasp.

Even if Satoru was the one who was begging for your attention at first- he always made sure you were the one asking for more once he received it.

I almost forgot to post this -.-

#jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo #Gojo x reader smut #satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo smut #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x chubby reader #gojo x y/n

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omitea · 20 days

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𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍 ?

☆ jjk! men & their reaction to you asking them if this seat (their lap) is taken.

. ft. gojo, geto, nanami, higuruma, choso & toji.

. content. ass grabbing, breasts mention, hinting at sexual activity, fluffy (?), bsf! choso, hickeys, toji being a bitch. suggestive, will be tagged as smut.

. note. here u go bae @httpshujii <3 not rlly proofread.

☆— 𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

gojo murmurs a small oh? when you take a seat on his lap instead of the large space on the couch beside him. he isn’t complaining though. the large grin is hard to suppress when he sees you hiding your face in the crook of his neck. his cold hand travels under your shorts, grabbing a hold on the soft plush of your ass. you can’t help but let out a shuddered breath as the familiar feeling of a chill running down your spine overtakes you. this only causes him to pinch the flesh in between his slender fingers— soothing the spot when you let out an annoyed whine. how can he stop when you’re looking so adorable against his chest. everything was so peaceful until he cracked a dirty joke; about how you should be asking him next time for a ride instead. he immediately felt himself harden underneath you when you jokingly moved your hips.

☆— 𝐆. 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

geto raises an eyebrow as soon as you take a seat on his lap. a sprinkle of confusing displayed on his face, but he lets you have your own way regardless. he spreads his legs just a tad bit to make you more comfortably seated on one thigh. both of your legs straddling him and you can feel his muscles shifting while he leans to place a kiss on your lips. one peck turning into more, and soon enough, you’re both a slobbering mess against one another. bitten lips that have swollen, are now parted for you to catch your breath. and that’s when you feel it— his knee accidentally pressing against your panties that are eager to be removed. his lips meet yours again in hunger, swallowing all your pretty little moans before pressing it a little bit harder to relieve the throbbing ache.

☆— 𝐊. 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

nanami lets out an amused chuckle when you clumsily take a seat. his back resting against the headboard of your shared bed, fluffy weighted duvet covering both of your freshly washed bodies in the slight chilly room. he feels so warm that you can’t help but snuggle deeper into his broad chest— a sound of content leaving your throat. his hand comes up to rub delicate circles on the small of your back, and the other hand manages to flip the next page of his novel. thin brows furrowed in concentration as his eyes try to trace the words printed into the yellowish paper. being deeply inside you makes it hard to do so. hes so engrossed in it, yet his hand never halts. you don’t know how he does it, he’s always so attentive even when he has his own personal moments. the deep, yet soft hums leaving his pink lips, are like soft kisses pressed to your temple— leaving a lingering feeling. it slowly, but eventually lulls you to sleep with a lovesick smile etched on your face. and of course along with the feeling of being filled to the brim.

☆— 𝐇. 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐀

higuruma heaves out a sigh when he feels his body close to yours. he was kinda skeptical at first, but soaked into the feeling of having you there. he feels a guilty feeling bubbling in the depths of his chest; from how he’s been in his office almost all day long. its gnawing at his skin, begging him to call it a day and give his undivided attention to you. and he swears he feels a twitch behind the layer of his pants when you look at him through your lashes. your smaller hand took his and inched it further under your shirt. the feeling of your bare chest under the pads of his fingers almost made him feel like his heart has been transplanted all the way to his now hardened length. a soft squeeze on your breast was all you needed to know. it’s been way too long, and soon enough the papers are long forgotten and scattered on the floor. for now, all he needed, was to have you prettily bent over his expensive wooden desk.

☆— 𝐊. 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

choso is eerily quiet. a train consisting of millions of thoughts racking through his brain. those thoughts soon get off the rails when he hears you snort. the sight of his wide eyes and almost horror-like expression makes it interesting to toy with him. he knows he’s just your best friend, but never have you ever been this close before. he hastily places his arms at his sides, ignoring the way his fingers itch to touch you. to feel your warm and soft skin against his cold one. the smell of your perfume entering his nose made it harder for him to breathe. you took notice of the pace his chest was moving at, before he excused himself. the image of you on top of him clouded his mind and he immediately begged his hands for some kind of relief. unbeknownst to him, you could hear all the strained whimpers and cries of your name behind the door of his bathroom. the sound only making you clench your thighs in anticipation.

☆— 𝐓. 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

toji teases you the whole time you’re quietly sitting. it’s kinda embarrassing how he knows exactly what to do to get you all riled up. muttering nasty things he’d love to do to you against the lobe of your ear, grazing his scar while grinning against your skin. his thick calloused fingers moving dangerously close to the insides of your thighs. with your back turned to him, it clearly gave him more excess to your neck. scarred lips leaving marks— going perfectly with your beautiful skin tone. he occasionally bucks his hips, pressing his uncomfortable buldge against your ass. deep raspy groans leaving his chest, only to be interrupted when you press down. always rushing him when he’s taking his time. part of it is his fault, because soon enough, he’s the one pounding you into the couch. yet, he has the nerve to blame it all on you— a crying mess with a cloudy mind that’s trying to think what was it that you did wrong.

©𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐀. please refrain from stealing my works !

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luveline · 9 months

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how about spencer x badass reader and they are wearing couple or similar clothes intentionally or unintentionally?? I think that would be cutee

tysm for requesting ♡ fem!reader

"Are you kidding me?" Derek asks, sounding like a kid in a candy store, a crisp twenty in his back pocket.

Emily follows his line of sight and feels her cheeks apple unbidden, a delighted smile on her painted lips. "Oh, my god."

"Yeah, Garcia?" Derek asks, phone to his ear, Penelope first on his speed dial. "You need to come and see this. Like, right now. Don't worry, baby, just come and see it for yourself."

"I don't even know what to say." Emily stares at you.

You usually dress in line with the other women in this profession: pants that aren't too tight so you can run in if needed, a simple blouse, and a blazer if you're feeling formal.

Today, you've opted for something softer. It was a slow change, one day you were wearing a cashmere sweater, thin and fitted to your form. Another day, you chose to layer your shirt with a cardigan of a similar colour.

Right now? You're all Spencer. Your slacks remain unchanged but your blouse has been swapped for a shirt with a stiff starched collar and layered under what can only be described as a grandpa sweater. It's not quite ugly, but it's almost identical to Spencer's.

What's more, you've swapped your boots for converse.

Spencer holds the door for you. He's chosen to wear a tie at least, clinging to that last strand of professional business attire. He has two coffees, one in each hand, while you carry a box. He's all elbows as he talks to you, and you, ever his fan, follow every word with a fond smile.

"Hey, are you guys sharing a wardrobe now?" Derek asks, absolutely unwilling to hold back.

Emily piles on, "It's cute! You're totally an old married couple, you look like my grandparents."

"What happened to your boots, lovergirl?" Derek asks, nodding at your cons, arms crossed over the back of his chair casually. "Don't get me wrong, I'm loving the sneakers."

"You guys totally match," Emily coos. "You could be on a Christmas card."

You smile —you smile, Emily might just call the news— and walk past them to your desk. Hotch has moved you away from Spencer knowing you'll encourage his endless chattering, which places you on a different island of desks next to Anderson and Agent Camille.

Spencer put his coffee down on his desk, taking off his messenger bag. "Nice going, guys. She brought you donuts. You know, to apologise for calling you both antagonistic losers yesterday," he says, smiling at the mutual horror that crops up on their faces. "The fancy kind, too. She knew your favourite flavours without asking."

From her desk, Emily can see you've opened the box and offered them to your desk mates, your expression unperturbed. "Just don't touch the chocolate sprinkle ones, they're for Spencer," you say.

No matter what they say, how sorry they sound, you give out the donuts to anyone who'll take one until they're all gone. When Garcia arrives, she finds you sitting in your desk chair with your head leaning against Spencer's stomach, taking alternate bites of the same sprinkle-covered donut like it isn't the most domestic, coupley thing you could be doing.

Unlike Emily and Derek, Penelope genuinely thinks you look cute. "You guys are like Brangelina," she breathes, eyes wide, her smile infectious.

Spencer fails to hide a grin, his hand on your shoulder. You're better at controlling your emotion, sliding a small parcelled package across the desk toward her.

"Thank you, Pen," you say. "I like the shoes. They're comfy. And the sweater was a gift." Spencer nods enthusiastically.

That explains why you'd taken such an offence. Anything to do with Spencer raises your hackles. If you felt someone was making fun of his present to you, you'd defend him with your last dying breath, or, in this instance, punish your coworkers in his honour.

"I'm sorry," Derek apologises again, "I was kidding! What do you want me to do, you want me to wear a sweater vest too? I can do that."

You reach back to touch Spencer's side, levelling Derek with an impartial look. Not mad, not sad. Totally indifferent. "That could be a good start."

Spencer hums. "I think so. You wanna borrow one of mine?"

The barest hint of a smile plays on your lips. "That's generous, Spence. You're a philanthropist."

"I am." He strokes the slope of your sweater-clad shoulder proudly. "You know me, I love sharing my wardrobe."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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officialdaydreamer00 · 5 months

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Flower crowns

in which you wove him a flower crown, made with love and a very special flower

character: idia shroud

content: no thought only fluff, implied long term relationship with idia, huge nod to greek mythology, just a sprinkle of my favourite godly couple, reader isn't yuu, gender neutral reader, reader is implied to be shorter than idia (very sorry to my tall readers, i am not)

happy birthday to my favourite wet cat, idia shroud ^-^

tags🏷️ @identity-theft-101 @dove-da-birb @ameleii @cave-of-jade @krenenbaker @vioisgoinginsane @edith-is-a-cat @twistwonderlanddevotee @mermaidfanficlibrary + idia kissers out there

winter was here, the ground was covered with layers of fresh snow and harsh winds blew mercilessly.

meanwhile, you were holed up with idia in the confines of his room. the two of you huddled close, wrapped in his warm fuzzy blanket.

you watched idia play some games on the screen as your hands wove together flowers upon flowers, as if they were on autopilot.

at one point, you spaced out while still weaving, which made idia turn to you with a confused look.

he had to poke you out of your daze, then sent you a questioning stare.

you only hummed, and tied the stems, finally finishing the flower crown. you then proceeded to place the crown gently on his head.

idia blinked, staring owlishly at you as his hair gradually glowed a pinkish shade.

he knew what those flowers were, they were native to the island of woes after all. he had read about its meanings, too.

as individuals, narcissus flowers represent creativity, inspiration, awareness and inner reflection, forgiveness, and vitality, all of which described him quite accurately. but giving a bunch of them means to ensure happiness and loyalty to your significant other, which was also directing at him.

idia felt as if his heart was doing backflips. he didn't expect to receive such a gift from you, and on the day before his birthday, no less.

looking down, he noticed you made another flower crown that was on your lap. he picked it up and gingerly placed it on your head, a tiny smile formed when he saw the surprise evident on your face.

"whee hee hee... now we're match." you only chuckled with him, feeling a familiar heat rushed to your cheeks.

the two of you decided to binge-watch some anime series, but underneath the blanket was your hands entwined, fingers interlocking as your hearts beat together as one.

remember to reblog if you enjoy my works!! ^-^

#irene's writings ♡#twst #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst fluff #twst x reader #idia #twst x gn reader #idia shroud #twst idia #twisted wonderland idia #idia shroud x reader #twst idia x reader #idia x reader #idia shroud fluff #happy birthday you lovable bastard #biting you in my dreams <3

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zephyrspace · 1 month

Text

queen of thine heart

riddle rosehearts / gn!reader

synopsis : they say the queen of hearts always had her loving husband rule alongside her. unfortunately for heartslabyul, their queen's king attends a different academy. but you know what they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder.

or ; in hearing your lover's recent overblot, you disregard the rules and infiltrate nrc to make sure your queen is alright, much to the surprise of the cards.

content : established relationship, implied childhood friends, rsa!reader, fluff, sprinkle of angst, crack, no use of yn, reader is not the prefect, reader is referred to as 'king' in a gender neutral way (like how riddle as queen), fic is more focused on the dynamic of their relationship rather than of the relationship itself (but perhaps another fic is in order...), riddle's pov kinda?, just a very short oneshot.

word count : 1.5k

The door opens but nobody that's already in the room thinks too much of it, until someone unfamiliar speaks.

"Good evening, Card Soldiers."

The mild bickering ceased to exist entirely. The door clicks shut.

The first years couldn't tell if it was an illusion or not, but they swear they saw the Housewarden of Heartslabyul tense at the sound of the person's voice and averted his gaze. Shoes tap against the floor tiles until they stop at the foot of Riddle's designated recovery bed.

The newcomer wore the eyesore that was the Royal Sword Academy uniform, but the things that caught the attention of specifically the Prefect would be the scarily regal presence that the person exudes, and the badge pinned against the left lapel of the stranger's blazer, an exact replica of the crown Riddle adorns on his school tie.

They brandish a polite smile, "you are dismissed."

It was clear to everyone that this person will not accept any other answer than compliance - "RSA? Who're you to tell us what to do? And what are you even doing here?" - well, except for one.

Ace raises a brow, lacking any form of decorum or respect, as per usual. The temperature of the room seemingly dropped, and yet, the stranger was still smiling.

Before Ace gets an answer, he feels a sharp jab at his side and a hand resting between his shoulder blades. Trey is quickly ushering all of them out of the infirmary. The heart soldier watches the academy student and the Vice exchange a look and a nod.

The door clicks shut once again.

With everyone now gone, you walk over to Riddle's left of the bed. Right hand against your heart, you bow your head, a custom.

"I greet the sovereign of Heartslabyul, the everlasting law, the Queen of my own heart," you cannot hide the smile in your voice and Riddle hates it in an affectionate sort of way.

"Must you always greet me incorrectly?"

"I am but a mere servant to your rule," you give him a cheeky grin, and with a touch as light as a feather, you take his right hand to press a quick kiss to the knuckles. Riddle sports a pout as he retracts his arm, but you never take him seriously when he's beet red, always a sucker to your flowery words.

Despite this, he has not once looked you in the eyes since you arrived.

Silence and tranquillity floods the atmosphere but anybody can feel the underlying tension beneath the layers. You shatter the quiet.

"I came as soon as I could." You sit down on the edge of the bed and he shuffles to the opposite side so that you do not fall off.

"I know." Riddle's sight is focused on the bed sheets where his hands rested. He watches your hands clasp over his, your touch is warm and just slightly sweaty, but he would never care for something so little.

Besides, he can tell by the sound of your breathing that you're still recovering from the journey. Upperclassmen say that it takes almost two or three hours to walk from one end of Sage's Island to the other, and this is without factoring the mountain you'd have to climb to get to NRC.

"I really thought I lost you when I was notified by one of the cards." Riddle can feel your stare and the sorrow in your words. You probably dropped everything to get here.

"I know." He takes a quick glance at the clock on the wall. How did you even manage to get to the college in just a little over an hour since he was admitted into the infirmary?

"You need to make me lots of crosswords to make up for it." The Housewarden clenches his jaw and thinks you are too forgiving compared to how much inconvenience and worry he's caused you.

Why are you not reprimanding his recklessness? Why would you risk a dorm-arrest to visit him with no prior permission? He reckons that your sentence would last at least a week if the professors find out of your absence, two weeks if you used a broom without authorisation. After this, would you think of him as a nuisance or embarrassment and leave him-

Sensing all of his inner turmoil, you reach out to carefully fix his dishevelled hair back into place and cup his cheek, coaxing his head in your direction so that he finally, finally looks at you.

Riddle's eyes are glassy with unshed tears, but the steadying pulse under the palm of your hand is soothing, your gaze is soft and full of something that is unconditional. Riddle knows that he can stay looking at you until forever falls apart.

Thumbing the flesh gently, you are watchful not to touch any gauze or smudge remnants of ointment. "Crosswords aside, I implore that you tell me, my Queen: What ails you so? Have I done something to be undeserving of your gaze?" Though, that last part was supposed to sound more like a joke.

"No!" He belts out before he could process your teasing lilt. "I mean- I- That's not- Ugh!"

Riddle gives up at the sight of your smug face and relaxes into your hold for just a few more moments, not caring for his burning cheeks or the delicacy that his lover offers him, only wanting to feel them wholly and fully.

He expels out a shaky breath, sits up straight, and lets everything go. Riddle tells you everything. The collars, the unbirthday, the tart, the duel. Riddle expresses his revelation about his mother and her rules. He confesses that you were right this entire time, and that he hopes you can forgive him for the times he denied it and admonished you.

Riddle's story ends and your brows furrow with guilt, "I knew I should have transferred to Night Raven. Maybe it would have prevented-"

He is quick to lace your fingers together with his own and silences you right away. "Perish the thought. You are not to blame. Not you. Never you."

Deciding to reward his efforts of attempting to distract you from your own thoughts, you sigh and lean in so that your foreheads touch, and Riddle does not oppose the connection. Closing your eyes, you breathe out lightly, quietly, as if only the two of you existed.

"You have tormented yourself in such a matter for far too long, my loveliest rose."

At that moment, Riddle swears up and down to The Seven that he has never been so in love. He looks down at your joined hands and smiles for the first time that day.

"I promise not to do it again, my Liege."

[ Extra ]

"What the hell was that for!?" Ace rubs his side tenderly after Cater elbowed him earlier. He earns disapproving glances from his seniors and unsurprising stares from Deuce, Prefect and Grim.

"Be more careful, Ace-y. They're the Housewarden slash Ruler of their own dorm back in RSA, but is also the Honorary King of Heartslabyul because they're Riddle's partner," Cater pulls up pictures of you from the academy's official magicam and shows the first years. "So that means they're in the same position of power as him in 'labyul, so you need'ta treat them like it."

Ace snatches the phone from his grasp and scrolls through the content, in denial. The other first years crowd around him. "Partners? With that Tyrant?? There is no way Housewarden was able to pull before me."

They all stare at the photos of you doing a plethora of activities, presumably around the rival school. Gardening, directing students, baking, tea parties, generally doing nice things. Yuck.

Ace tries to find your personal magicam but Cater yanks his phone back, exasperated, "I think they've been together for almost two years now, so it's not like it's new news."

"Myah, I don't know about you guys, but this 'King' of yours looks like a weak-ass, lovesick simp. Simp in capital letters, bold font and red text," Grim had lifted himself up and peaked through the window in the door to the infirmary, watching the royalties speak softly to each other.

The two third years give each other a look and both can vividly imagine the sound of your laughter and you saying that you wholeheartedly agree with Grim.

"I still don't get why you just followed their orders without question. I should show them the mighty power of The Great Grim, and then we'll see who's the real king! Nyahaha- Yowch!" Deuce had smacked the monster in the head.

Trey leans against the wall beside the closed entrance, crosses his arms and chuckles at the statement. He looks over his shoulder and also observes the duo inside.

"I've known them since we were kids, and trust me, Grim, they aren't someone you can mess with and get away with it unscathed."

He chooses not to mention how Grim fails to see the pure concentration of magic emanating from your figure.

#twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #gn!reader #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle x reader #posts the yearly fic and runs away #teehee #i should really post that azul fic i made two years ago...#aha #yikes

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thehighladywrites · 2 months

Text

— “Okay, but in what way do you love me?”

☀︎ — pairing: tutor/nerd azriel x bimbo/ditzy reader

☀︎ — summary: It’s confession time! Last night you said you like him but over analyzing azriel needs to know exactly what “like” means.

☀︎ — warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, confessions, creampie, fluff, azriel needs clarification even though you are VERY clear

☀︎ — amara’s note: pls enjoy and lemme know what u think💗 also sorry for it being short it’s only bc i’m posting another drabble very soon, and it’s a personal favorite 👀💗

series masterlist

“Why are you staring at me, Az? Is there something on my face?” you ask panicked as you grab your hand mirror on his desk and check your flawless face

Azriel's gaze softens as he speaks, “No, there's nothing on your beautiful face. I just like looking at you. And, I want to ask you something.”

You exhale calmly, pleased with your appearance, as you turn your body towards him, jewelry jangling.

His stomach feels leaden, and he feels nauseous. What if your version of "like" and his version of "like" aren't the same? What if you say you like him, but only in a friendly way?

You are miles out of his league, but he's not complaining. You actually make him happy and mushy when you call and ask him to go on little shopping trips with you, and it’s even better when you let him fuck your brains out from time to time. But he is in love, like deeply fucking in love.

“Okay. Do you recall—remember yesterday when you said you liked me? Do you want to clarify what that means? Why do you like me?”

The question makes you tilt your head in confusion, brows drawing in curiosity as you pull the strawberry-flavored lollipop from your mouth, resulting in a loud pop, lips covered in a thin layer of sticky, red residue.

“Wait, huh? What do you mean, Azzie? I don’t like you, I love you.”

Oh my fucking god, what? Okay, so he was literally about to throw the fuck up but he was a little hesitant to respond. Azriel couldn't help but think about the meaning behind your words. You were always so bubbly and affectionate, even with strangers. Did your "I love you" hold the same weight every time, or was it just another sprinkle of your charm?

“Okay, I hear you but in what way do you love me? Do you mean it as a friend or—?” He questions behind his glasses.

Azriel had, for the first time ever, brought you to his dorm. You were just laying in bed next to him but decided to straddle his lying body, smiling as his hands automatically held your thighs.

“No silly! I loooove you and I want you to be my boyfriend. You’re so hot and sweet and kind and you care about me, like a lot. Always keepin’ me outta trouble and kissing me too. You love me too tho, right?” You gaze down at him, your big doe eyes shimmering with hope, and your glossy bottom lip slightly quivering.

Love you? He was almost insanely obsessed with you. There was something about you that drove him crazy. How could he not love you? He gives you an assuring nod, all of your previous worries disappearing in an instant. “Yeah, I do. I love you too. So much.”

“That’s so adorable, gimme a kiss.” You puckered your lips, the sweet scent of your Burberry Her Elixir filling his senses.

He tries to remove his glasses, but you stop him with a swat. “No, keep ‘em on,” you insist between kisses.

—

To no one’s surprise you were bent over his desk, getting fucked stupid as he made you list what you loved about him.

Maybe it was a little mean since you couldn’t focus, your fuzzy brain filled with pleasure, but Azriel wanted to know anyway.

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

So you did, saying everything you loved about him. Every single detail.

“I love it when you make me breakfast— fuck, and—and when you carry me whenever i want. ‘m so close, az,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum — harder than ever, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him.

“a-azzie,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“you’re so perfect. prettiest girl i’ve laid my fucking eyes on —prettiest pussy ever too. i, sh-shit—” he falls into his own orgasm, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sighs into your neck, fucking his load into you.

“Holy shit,” Azriel mutters before he kisses the back of your head, the biggest trail of cum he’s ever seen leaking out of you when he pulls out.

“I wanna go again, please Az, let—let me ride. I’ll tell you more things I love,” you lock eyes with him over your shoulder, a smirk playing at your lips.

Azriel obviously doesn’t deny. He’s happy someone for once in his life wants to tell him how much they love him. Especially when that someone is his first and last girlfriend💗.

🏷️: @ithan-holstroms-girl @whatdoyxumean @honeybeeboobaa @to-be-written @sidthedollface2 @stasiereads @andrewgarfield2022 @amara-moonlight @thescooby-gang @linoisqt @mischiefmanagers @tortured-artists @dwlyniii @scooobies @harryshoobies69 @caroline-books @kalulakunundrum @meshelleexplosionmurder @danikamariewrites @clairebear08 @redbleedingrose @jeannineee @rowaelinsdaughter @nocasdatsgay @v3lv3tf0x @liati2000 @teenageeggscissorslawyer @impossibelle @stonerpersona @dreamlandreader @djaaaa @callmeblaire @thelov3lybookworm @polli05927 @ahitsalyssa @evergreenlark @thegirlintheshadows101 @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @readychilledwine @daycourtofficial @azriels-shadowsinger @sapphicmsmarvel @hungryforbatboys @justasillylittlegoofyguy @luvmoo @emryb @meritxellao @mochibabycakes @artists-ally @azzieslittlebunny @viatorem-maris @berryzxx @riddlesb1tch @sweetshifter

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sook9i · 6 months

Text

— SAY MY NAME

⋆｡°✩ nicknames TXT likes in the bedroom

. . . GENRE ! TXT x gn!reader | separate headcanons

. . . CONTAINS ! sir/daddy/master kink, dom!txt, yj - mean(?) dom, degradation (whore, cockwhore, slut), hair pulling, begging; sb - mentions of dollification & size kink, reader is dressed in skirts, reader is called bunny; bg - mean dom, degradation (whore), slapping, implied doggy(?); th - kinda mean dom, pet play (collars, ears, etc.), reader called pet and kitten; hk - reader called angel, baby, & pretty, implied fingering & overstimulation

. . . NOTES ! heyyyyyyyyy so um here ya go, sorry for disappearing it'll happen again

. . . ADMIN ! written by callie 😽

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

YEONJUN - wc ! 212

Split pretty evenly between sir and daddy. Most of the time, depending on the circumstances, a simple “junnie” or “baby” will suffice. Other times, however, especially when he’s feeling cocky or frustrated or jealous, it’s not enough. Yeonjun is naturally pretty teasing and likely to sprinkle in degradation into his talking. Not necessarily mean or hard, just simply dominating. The times when explicit dynamics are in order often come about from Yeonjun practically breaking you down until you say it first. Denying you over and over until you’re a slobbering mess of begging “Please sir-pl-please please-hic-wan’ your cock sir-please.”

“Oh? So now the little whore wants to start respecting me?” His grip tightens on your scalp, lighting pain across the skin. An obviously fake frown stretches on his face, “Poor, helpless little slut. Should’ve listened when I told you to stop messing around. But you’re just a stupid needy cockwhore, aren’t you? Can’t stand ten minutes without sir’s cock in your mouth, huh? Pathetic.”

His sneer drives swaths of heat between your thighs and more tears welling in your eyes. “P-please sir, i’m-im so-sorry-sob-sh-should’ve done what s-sir said. Plea-please, just-just wan’ you so bad.”

“Well then.” He hands yanks your head right up to his, “Shut up and get on your knees.”

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

SOOBIN - wc ! 436

To pair well with both his size kink and interest in dollification, Soobin is not opposed to being called Daddy. He’s quite fond of things more in the realm of nicknames: binnie, bin, or even just Soobin. However, there’s something so heavy in the name Daddy that Soobin truly cannot resist. Putting all of your trust in his hands, his to mold and care for and use. He simply can’t help but take all of the control you give him. Dressing you up and posing you. All ruffles and short skirts; perfect pinks and whites, a pure picture of innocence. In these moments, you’re all his to ruin.

Poised upon the bed like a porcelain doll, framed in voluminous skirts and petticoats spreading out beside you like wings. Soobin’s long fingers drag their way up along your calf. Slowly coming to rest in the middle of your thigh, running a nail beneath the tight elastic of your stocking. The sharp snap on your skin shocks a cold gasp from your throat. Shuddering, eyes shut tight as Soobin’s nose trails quickly behind the rest. Coming to a stop, faced with the guarded walls of all your layers of clothes, he finally looked up at you. You could barely look back, eyes screwed tight.

“Aww, poor bunny is trembling.”

It takes everything in you to suppress the high and needy whimper building in your throat. The muffled sound peaks with a hard clenching between your thighs which are quickly pulled apart. Soobin’s palms pressed into the plush, rubbing soft circles into the skin; his fingertips so close to the ache between your legs, it dragged out another pathetic whine.

Eyes clenched even tighter, fists curled at your sides; It spills through your lips before you can stop it. “D-daddy, please-just-please-hnng.” Hips canting upwards, held back by his grip.

Soobin’s smirk grows impossibly smug, gleaning up at you as he presses your hips firmly into the mattress. Hands slipping from your thighs, pushing at the mountains of lace keeping him away. His eyes devour the depraved sight between your thighs, a deeper hunger growing in them. Fingernails digging into the flesh beside his head, more and more whimpers coming from you as his lips and teeth clash so close to where you need him. A hand twirled tight around his hair and a sharp tug on it all, his own neediness is catching up to him.

With a shudder and darkening eye; he always gets lost in the rush of power, your sweet submission, the moment he says, “Come on, Bunny. Beg for Daddy, and he’ll let you cum.”

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

BEOMGYU - wc ! 251

Daddy but in a mean way. Beomgyu definitely has his soft dom moments, but with such a big thing for humiliation, they’re somewhat few and far between. He takes pride in his power over you; even when you act out, the power to put you back in your place is the most satisfying. Stripping you of your clothes and attitude; knocking you down a few pegs and face-first into his mattress. Chewing up your ego and spitting it back down your needy, begging, throat. That was perhaps his favorite part of it all. Making you so submissive, an absolute mess with the graze of his fingertips. Hips swiveling in the air, ass seared with hand prints and the deep crescents of digging fingernails. Your muffled cries were music to his ears; words muddled in pathetic slobbering.

“B-Beom-ah!” Another harsh sting ripples along your skin and tears a whining squeal from your throat. Paired with the fingers tugging you up by your hair, pain overwhelmed your senses.

His words send that burning pain back into unbearable heat between your legs. “Come on, baby. You know that’s not my name.” The grin on his lips is audible, though there’s nothing left in you to protest.

All resolve gone, you’re left to desperate groveling. “Daddy! Daddy, please, I’m sorry! Please-hic-just…fuck me, please.” Your words trail off, meak and measly, no match for the degrading laughter that follows.

“God, you’re such a dumb fucking whore. Cry a little louder, baby, and maybe Daddy will listen.”

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

TAEHYUN - wc ! 279

another healthy mix of sir and daddy, with a little master mixed in sometimes. He likes to explore various dynamics, and thus, different names. Pet play is his newest experiment. The first time he saw you in between his knees, neck wrapped all pretty in a collar, he almost came on the spot. Tucking his fingers between the tight leather and your skin, tugging hard as you struggle to keep quiet. Pets aren’t supposed to talk, and he loves to remind you of that. If any word slips past your lips apart from his name, you can expect to end up with bruised knees and a sore throat.

Whining out a pitiful, “Please!”

The pain of carpet rubbing hard onto your skin is only outweighed by the harsh grip on the back of your neck. Tilting your head up to get a perfect view of your watery gaze.

Taehyun’s eyes are heavily lidded; foggy and dark as they rake over your face, pausing on the faux ears adorning your head. His grip tightens as the bells along your outfit jingle. “Kittens don’t talk. Or did you forget?”

Your heartbeat races and your core aches, teary eyes meeting his. “N-no, Master. I-”

His gaze is pointed, daring you to finish your sentence. A heated shudder settles in your stomach. “No, Master.”

“Good pet.” A thumb strokes softly on your chin, yet Taehyun’s face remains hard. “You know I still have to punish you, kitten.”

“Y-yes, Master.”

Fingers slip back down to your neck before yanking on your collar, knocking the breath from your lungs. Biting out the words, “Then shut up and open your mouth. Master’s gonna fuck your throat.”

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

HUENINGKAI - wc ! 290

To Kai, the act of dominance, having you submit to him completely, is more about how he takes care of you every step of the way. Sure, there are certainly times he takes more focus on himself. He’s glad to have a partner so accepting of his selfishness at times. However, being the youngest, he’s used to the babying treatment; even playing into it at times. With you, he gets to play the caretaker instead.

You never have to do any thinking with him, and, even if you wanted to, he’ll have you going dumb soon enough that won’t really matter. Having you take his fingers over and over again; stretching you out and licking up your mess before he even takes his own clothes off. Maybe you aren’t the only dumb one. With the way he gets lost in your lovely sounds, he just has to go back for another taste.

Cooing at your over-sensitive whines, shushing your soft cries, kissing away your sweet tears, “So good for me-ahh-pretty baby.”

Hands cradled softly in his, mingling on the mattress to keep you grounded as Kai’s hips take up more space inbetween yours. He presses your thighs up with his own, cock running teasingly along the inside.

“Daddy-” Mind numbed-out and drool slipping past your lips, your words come out as no more but a muddled plea.

“I know, baby.” His breath falls short watching your eyes screw shut, “‘m gonna make you feel so good, I promise.”

Your fingers curl tighter in his. “Wan’-wan’ it, please-”

“Want daddy to make you cum, angel?”

He can’t stop his small giggle as you desperately nod and slobber out incoherent agreements. “Whatever you want. Let daddy take care of you, baby.”

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etheries1015 · 6 months

Text

MC lives just as lonely as Malleus does, and he thinks to himself...perhaps they could be lonely together?

Loneliness was not something you were unaccustomed to, and perhaps your hopes got a little too high coming to NRC. Although you had Grim Ace and Deuce on the occasion, the majority of students pretended as if you did not exist. This was fine, you said. It isn't different than before. You were used to not particularly having many friends, keeping to yourself, and guarding your heart from the world. You could not be open as you had dreamed of being, for every time you had shown your true nature, being turned away from had become the norm in your life.

But loneliness can fester and turn into self-loathing, tears sprinkling down your cheeks as you sat on the little broken bench in front of Ramshackle, staring out into the dark emptiness of the worn-down garden that hadn't been tended to for quite some time. You could truly sympathize with the garden- perhaps a few people came here and there to tend to the flowers, yet eventually everyone leaves, desolate and alone the floral slowly wither away into nothing. Much as yourself, growing thorns around your battered heart, for being alone is better than being betrayed by the lies of those who claim to care.

However you convince yourself to continue on, choking down those ugly emotions by painting a smile and playing one big game of pretend- for nobody likes to hear the woes of a person known to be an optimist and the face of a proper prefect; their world or otherwise.

Malleus, however, knew that face all too well. He knew from the moment he first met you in the front gates of your run-down dorms, although you spoke to him like any other student, he could see you and him were alike; surrounded by fake smiles and false pretenses of friendship for their benefit or enjoyment. He understood the differences between realness and a front, a mask he noticed you often put on in front of everyone else. Yet with him... you were very much real, and honest, despite sheltering the deepness of your personality in the depths of your heart you hadn't made it a point to lie to the prince as you had gotten to become close to him. He desperately found himself wanting to know you- pulling apart the layers, he wanted to learn more about who you were, about the things you liked, how you felt, how to see the world, to finally rid himself of his loneliness by inviting another to share his burdens; and he was terrified of it all the same.

Malleus grew up understanding his duties and knowing the facade he had to put on in front of everyone else- he knew he had to be the perfect prince, a leader, the face of a country, and the spokesperson of his people. Yet around you...he was free to talk about anything and everything under the sun and moon without judgment, without fear of tainting his name, without the shackles of princehood holding him down. He had people fear him, running away at the simple sight of his horns, and avoiding him as if Malleus were the plague himself. He knew he was destined to be truly alone- that was, until he found someone to be himself around. Although you were often by your lonesome and kept to yourself, you had always found a way to lift his spirits, smiling at him with genuine interest rather than the plastic he was sick of staring at.

That is why he was utterly shocked when he found you staring at the garden, tears pooling down your cheeks with that same look he had been all that familiar with. He had quietly sat next to you on the bench, noticing your melancholic gaze not leaving the garden although you now had company beside you. Together you sat in the silence of understanding, until you had taken a shaky breath and choked out a feeble cry of help.

"I'm tired of being lonely," Was all you said. Malleus felt his hand creep over to yours, gently grasping it and squeezing it with a slight tremble.

"You do not have to be," He said, turning his emerald eyes to stare into your own, "I...am here now." You pursed your lips and nodded slightly, leaning your body against the tall Faes strong build. There was not much to say, not much to do, yet in contrast it seemed as if the puzzle had simple put itself together in one aura of familiarity and assimilation without verbal articulation .

Silence reigned once more...two solitary souls finding comfort in one another's presence.

...For however long it'll last.

#Twisted wonderland #twst #Twisted wonderland x reader #Malleus #Malleus x reader #Malleus draconia x reader #Twst headcannons #twisted wonderland headcannons #Tired of finding solace in video games #Kind of self induldgent ngl

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hongcherry · 5 months

Text

you're my tomorrow | j.ww

At first, you didn't think anything of it. Jeon Wonwoo was just a customer. However, his daily visits to your bookstore café started to become the highlight of your days. The little conversations here and there made you happy. It's because of him that you always look forward to tomorrow.

☕️ Pairing: customer!Wonwoo x cafeOwner!Reader

☕️ Rating/Genres/AUs: PG; Fluff with a sprinkle of angst, slice of life; Strangers to lovers, cafe au, non!idol au

☕️ Warnings: Reader is smaller than Wonu, ultra soft boi and supportive wonu *swoons*... can't think of anything else but ofc lmk otherwise

☕️ Word Count: 5k

☕️ Author's Note: Thank you to @justsomekpopstuff for giving me this plot idea! I def got carried away and wrote way more than I thought I would lol. I hope you enjoy it! Everyone thank JJ for the storyline ✨ Also, thank you Jess (@the-boy-meets-evil) for beta'ing and giving me amazing suggestions for some edits! 💗

Happy holidays to all (if you celebrate)! Stay safe and have a nice time 💖

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

Monday

When the door chimes a little after eight at night, you know it’s him.

He strolls in, usual glasses perched on his nose and jacket layered with a few specks of snow. His hair isn’t styled, soft waves adorning his head. He looks like the average person who’s winding down from a long day at work. From the two and a half months you’ve known him, this is his usual state on Monday nights.

Wonwoo entered your cozy bookstore café nearly three months ago. His order rarely varies, and sometimes he orders a drink he could get anywhere else. Yet, for some reason, he always comes here.

And throughout those months, you’ve realized you always look forward to his presence.

“Busy evening?” he asks while stepping up to the counter.

You’re in the middle of packing a pastry for another customer and quickly hand off the bag to your coworker.

“More so than usual; it’s finals week,” you reply with a small smile.

Wonwoo glances around, nodding as he takes in the sight of many tables occupied by people with textbooks, laptops, and notes scattered around them.

“I don’t miss those days,” he chuckles.

“I don’t either,” you agree. “So, what can I get you today?”

Wonwoo peers up at the menu behind you. You wonder why he does so since he usually rotates between three drinks.

“A hot chocolate,” he replies.

“Oh?” You can’t hide your surprise.

He grins, tilting his head slightly. “Should I have ordered something else?”

“No!” you hastily say. “You can order whatever you want.”

He pulls out a bill that exceeds the cost of the order and slides it to your side of the counter.

“Just thought I’d try something new for the holidays,” he explains, then leaves to find a seat.

“Wait!” you call out, bill in your hand. “You paid too much!”

If Wonwoo can hear you, he pretends he doesn’t. He continues his journey and ends up in the corner next to a window by the bookshelves. He retrieves a book from his bag, opening it where his bookmark rests.

Your hand falls to the counter with a heavy sigh. You guess you’ll give him his change when you give him his order. Normally, you’d call customer’s names or numbers for pick-up. But Wonwoo is different.

Wonwoo’s one of the rare customers who gets his order hand-delivered.

After completing the transaction in the system and making his drink, you grab his change from the register and walk to his table.

“One hot chocolate,” you announce and set the cup down along with his change.

“I’ll take the drink,” he says and brings it closer, blatantly ignoring the cash next to it.

“Wonwoo,” you say.

“Yn,” he answers, eyes flickering up.

There’s a small smirk on his lips that makes your insides churn.

“You overpaid,” you simply state.

“So?”

You move his money closer. “So, take it back.”

Wonwoo slides the money back to you. “Consider it a tip.”

“You know we don’t take tips here,” you say, moving it again.

“You should. You all work hard.”

“People are already struggling as is. If they can find solace in a little place like this, that’s all that matters.”

Wonwoo rests his hands on top of yours, which is still on the money, and slides it back to you.

“Then consider it a holiday present. From me to you,” he smiles.

His hand feels warm on yours. Your eyes move down, but you wish you hadn’t.

His large hand nearly covers yours, making you feel small yet protected. You can tell from his build that he’s strong and fit. You wonder what it’d be like to get a hug from him.

“I—” you struggle to speak.

“It’d make me happy.”

You sigh, nodding hesitantly.

He slowly removes his hand. “Thank you.”

“N-No problem,” you say, gathering the change and pocketing it. “Enjoy your book and drink.”

“Thanks,” Wonwoo replies and picks up his book. He holds it up with one hand and uses the other to sip his hot chocolate.

You make your way back to the front, trying to ignore the lingering warmth on your hand and the feeling in your chest.

Tuesday

Wonwoo shows up at the same time but orders one of his usual drinks. It's a different book than yesterday and judging by the similar cover, it's probably the next one in the series.

Ever since Wonwoo “gifted” you money, you’ve been trying to think of something to get him. It’s a little tough considering you don’t actually know him. You know he works a duty-heavy job and that he lives nearby. You know he has a lot of friends despite him being so quiet. Although you’ve never seen Wonwoo and his friends in the same room, they often come with him to the café in duos or trios.

You also learned he’s an avid cat and gaming lover.

You were surprised about the latter.

“Is he also a student?” one of your new coworkers, Sebastian, asks thirty minutes after Wonwoo’s arrival.

You wipe off the cup in your hand and set it on the counter, calling the number associated with it.

“No, he graduated already,” you reply and watch him practice making a drink.

“You seem to know him. Are you two friends?” he wonders.

You lean against the counter. “I don’t think so. He’s just a regular here, so I’ve learned a few things here and there.”

“Ah,” he replies and hands you the finished drink.

You take the drink and start taking a sip to see how well he did.

“You should ask him out.”

You choke on the drink, eyes wide as you reach for a napkin to wipe your chin.

“T-That wouldn’t be appropriate,” you stammer.

He laughs and takes the drink from you. “He’s not working here, and it’s not like you’re paying for him to come by. I don’t see how it’s inappropriate.”

You sigh, knowing he has a point. It’s not that you’re not attracted to Wonwoo, but it feels almost out of line. Plus, you’re not sure if you like Wonwoo, or just like the thought of him. You haven’t been in a relationship in years and would be lying to say you don’t miss having a partner.

You miss being able to share life memories with someone.

Wonwoo’s handsome. He’s kind, funny, caring, and fit—not that that’s a big deciding factor, but it sure is a bonus. Though, do you just want someone with those attributes, or do you want him?

“Just think about it,” Sebastian suggests and greets a new customer.

Your eyes drop to your feet in thought.

Part of you worries you’d make it awkward if he says no. It’s not like you are friends, so you won’t be ruining a friendship, but you enjoy seeing his face every day. His simple presence is one of the highlights of your days.

Plus, you don’t even know if he has a partner already!

You groan, putting a hand over your forehead as you try to organize your thoughts.

“Bad night?” a familiar voice asks from over the counter.

You drop your hand to see who it is.

Wonwoo stands with his empty cup and saucer, book tucked under his arm.

“Ah, uh, not really,” you reply sheepishly. You can’t disclose the true reason for your state; you’ve never been the best liar either.

“Well, I hope whatever is troubling you passes soon,” he says and holds out his dirty dishes.

“You could’ve left them on the table,” you say, grabbing them from his grasp. Your fingers touch his, and it’s difficult not to feel like a silly teenager in the movies, especially with your current predicament.

“I know,” he smiles, “but I wanted to tell you bye, and you seem busy.”

You set the items in the sink before addressing him again. “Still… But thank you anyway.”

“The drink was great, as always.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he says, slowly stepping away from the counter.

You smile, nodding. “See you.”

His eyes linger on you before he turns and exits your café.

Wednesday

Wonwoo comes and goes as usual. It’s a busy night and you’re unable to speak to him much. It’s not the first time that has happened, so he doesn’t seem bothered by the lack of interaction. Regardless, you wish you could’ve spoken to him more.

That night was spent browsing the internet for the perfect gift for Wonwoo.

From gaming headsets to the top-rated books on Goodreads, you felt like you scoured every possible present for him. But none of them satisfied you.

It wasn’t until you came across bookmarks in your recommended section that you decided what to get him.

Maybe a bookmark was too boring, but you figured it was the safer option.

You spend over an hour searching for the right bookmark, but again, you come up short. They’re either too flowery, too plain, or too cliché.

In the end, you opt for making your own.

You find some DIY bookmark kits online and place an order. Trying not to second guess your decision, you call it a night—going to sleep as you brainstorm what to put on the item.

Thursday

“Do people actually read these books?” Wonwoo asks during your break, which you decided to spend with him.

Your gaze follows his to the wall lined with several bookshelves.

You chuckle, “Sometimes.”

“You said you got these books donated?” he asks, recalling an earlier conversation you had when he was a newcomer.

“Most of them,” you hum.

“Does your offer still stand?” he asks.

You turn to him with puzzlement.

He smiles. “You said I could take a book if I left one.”

“Oh,” you laugh out of embarrassment for forgetting. “Of course.”

Wonwoo nods and then stands up. He takes two steps to his right, then carefully plucks a book from a high shelf. He replaces the empty space with his own book.

Something about the simple act has your heartwarming. Or maybe it’s the way he’s so gentle with the books as if they’ll cry if moved too aggressively. You wonder if he’d touch you as carefully, if given the chance. Would you find comfort in his caresses the way you think the books would if they were personified?

Wonwoo sits in his seat again, perching his glasses higher after they slide down.

“Have you read this?” he asks, twisting the book so the cover faces you.

You analyze it for a moment, but the title doesn’t ring a bell.

Shaking your head, “Unfortunately not. I haven’t had the chance to read in a long while.”

“I guess running a business is time-consuming,” he teases lightly.

“How do you find the time? Didn’t you say your work is hard, too?” you ask.

He leans back in his seat, book resting in his lap.

“I make time,” he simply says. “I found it’s important to make time for things I care about.”

He’s staring at you in a way that makes you think there’s more to his words than he lets on.

“T-That’s a good habit, I suppose,” you say.

“When was the last time you did something for yourself, and not the café?” he questions.

Your brows furrow in deep thought. You thought the answer would come easily, but it doesn’t.

“I—I can’t remember,” you answer with your gaze down, a little dejected at the self-reflection.

Wonwoo sits up and leans toward you. He lowers himself until he can snag eye contact.

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself,” he reassures. “I know what it’s like to bury myself in my work.”

“You probably think I’m pathetic, huh?” you laugh awkwardly.

Wonwoo shakes his head.

“It’s good to be dedicated to something. Your efforts are clearly visible,” he gestures to your crowded café. “But at the same time, it’s also good to not burn yourself out.”

You nod in agreement. “I’ll try to be better.”

“Not for me though. For you,” he says.

You offer him a kind smile that he returns. “For me.”

Friday

Wonwoo doesn’t come at his usual time.

You finally finished his gift last night and are eager to show it to him. You try to suppress your excitement, but it’s difficult to calm your mix of emotions.

As you made it, you realized it was the first time doing something non-work related. Usually, you’d be researching new recipes, doing finances, or simply sleeping. Last night, however, you were doing something personal.

Wonwoo’s words from yesterday ring loudly in your ears.

It felt good to take a break from work.

It felt good to feel like an actual person and not some workaholic machine.

Some say people come into your life for a reason. Maybe you’d still be stuck in your cycle, if not for him.

You wish he were here.

Wonwoo’s usually a punctual man, so being this late sends uneasy nerves coursing through you. But, the idea of him not showing up at all is even more worrisome.

Perhaps he’s working overtime and will be here soon. He’s never missed a day.

Yet, as minutes turn into hours, you begin losing hope.

Excitement transitions into worry. This isn’t his typical behavior. You don’t have a way to contact him either.

Is he hurt? Does he need help? Did you say something wrong yesterday? Did he finally decide he doesn’t like your café anymore?

Perhaps you’re too caught up with giving him your gift that you’re overreacting. It could simply be a late, late night at work for him.

He’ll be here.

Even if he just grabs his drink to go, which he’s done in the past, he’ll be here.

The bell chimes as your last coworker leaves for the night.

Wonwoo’s present sat abandoned in your locker throughout your shift. There’s an odd discomfort in your chest as you stare at it now.

You’re not sure if it originates from being unable to gift it and see Wonwoo’s reaction, or if it’s because he never showed up.

Probably a combination of both, but more so the latter.

It’s uncanny to not see Wonwoo every day.

You had never thought about how you’d feel if you didn’t see him constantly. He was just always there. Always so reliable that you didn’t feel the need to consider what if.

What if he stopped showing up? What if you never saw him again? What if he no longer was a constant in your life?

You swallow the lump forming in your throat.

It’s a harsh reality to know he’s not required to visit. He can leave any time he wants. He can stop visiting your bookstore café at any moment.

There’s a strange thought about you not being good enough for him. Though, you’re not sure what that has anything to do with his absence.

Why would it matter if you weren’t good enough for him? He didn’t come to the café for you.

Did he?

If it was you he wanted, couldn’t he ask you out? Perhaps not as a romantic date, but as friends?

He never has, so he must not want to know you beyond the café. Meaning, he doesn’t come to it solely for you.

But, what changed for him not to show up tonight?

Unsettled with your thoughts, you decide to distract yourself with the final tasks you have to do before you leave.

However, the ride home is filled with more endless thoughts about Wonwoo.

Saturday

You come to work with less bounce in your step than usual.

The world outside seems dimmer. It feels as if the skies are going to be consumed with clouds and rain is going to fall. However, a storm was not in the weather’s forecast.

“Are you getting sick?” Sebastian asks.

You force a smile onto your face for the customer in front of you, handing them their order before looking at your coworker.

“No, why?” you wonder.

“You don’t seem well. Did you not sleep well last night?”

You wish you had, but you tossed and turned constantly. You didn’t think Wonwoo’s absence would affect you so much, but your mind kept wandering to every possibility for his no-show. In the end, you just gave yourself a headache.

“No,” you sigh, “but don’t worry about me.”

You try to smile again, but you’re sure Sebastian can see through it.

“Want me to close up tonight?” he offers.

“Don’t you have a big essay due tomorrow?” you question, remembering how stressed he sounded a few days ago.

“Yeah, but—”

“I’ll be fine,” you insist.

Huffing, he nods and grabs the cup from your hand. “Then go rest for a bit while I finish these orders.”

You purse your lips, contemplating arguing. In the end, you relent, moving to the backroom’s couch and plopping down.

You’ve been scrolling through your phone for ten minutes when you hear a familiar voice.

“Is Yn not here today?”

“Oh, she’s not feeling well, so she’s taking a break. Is there something wrong with our service?” Sebastian answers politely.

You shove your phone in your pocket and head to the door. There’s a small window that you peep out of.

You catch a glimpse of Wonwoo’s frown before he speaks again.

“No, everything’s fine. Will you tell her I hope she feels better?” he asks.

Sebastian nods slowly. Although you can’t see his face, you can see the cogs turn in his head.

“Oh! Ooh! You’re that guy.”

Wonwoo looks confused.

“I’m sorry?” Wonwoo replies.

“The guy that always comes in—”

Not trusting Sebastian to keep his matchmaking attempts at bay, you push through the door.

“Wonwoo,” you greet, trying not to seem too eager that he's here today even though you are.

Wonwoo’s eyes drift past Sebastian to see you. Instantly, his mouth begins to lift.

“Hey, you,” he says lightly, sweetly. “I heard you’re not feeling well.”

“Ah, I’m fine. Seb’s just overreacting.”

Sebastian narrows his eyes at you in a glare.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he scolds.

“I’ve rested enough,” you shoo with a hand.

“Ten minutes isn’t long enou—”

“Seb, do you mind attending to the customers behind Wonwoo?” you interject.

Sebastian eyes you before grumbling under his breath—something about you being stubborn—then greets the next customer.

You move down the counter to an empty space.

“What can I get you?” you ask Wonwoo.

He shakes his head. “Actually, I just wanted to talk today, if that’s okay. I won’t be long.”

You want to say he can take as much time as he wants, but you hold back.

Concern creeps from the shadows around you.

Is he going to tell you he’s leaving forever? Does he not like your drinks anymore? Did he find somewhere better? Someone better?

“O-Oh, yeah, okay,” you mumble and maneuver around the counter.

You lead Wonwoo to his usual corner, next to the window and the bookshelves. It’s a little quieter here.

You both take a seat from across each other.

You fidget in your seat, nerves making you angsty.

“Are you sure you feel okay?” he asks.

“Just tired, nothing to be worried about,” you smile.

Something in your chest warms at knowing he cares about your well-being.

“Hm. Alright,” he replies a little skeptically.

“Is everything okay with you?” You try to change the subject. “You didn’t come in yesterday.”

Your voice trails off, not wanting to show how concerned you were about his absence. However, Wonwoo can sense it regardless.

He smiles, though the small lift at the corner of his mouth tells you he’s amused with your attempt to hide your worry.

“Did you miss me?” he wonders.

Your eyes widen a bit. “I—Well. I just noticed you didn’t come because you always come, you know?”

He nods with a subtle smirk still on his lips, yet it fades after a few seconds.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come,” he apologizes sincerely. “One of my friends was in the hospital.”

Your heart drops and guilt kicks in. It’s not that you didn’t consider the possibility, but you had been more focused on him not liking you or the café.

“Goodness, I’m sorry to hear that. Are they okay?” you ask, frowning.

“He had to get surgery, but he’s fine. Just a little grumpy and whiny,” he chuckles.

You feel better hearing his small laughter.

“That’s better than being in pain, I guess,” you reply.

“Yes,” he concurs. He waits for a beat then continues, “I wanted to ask you a question.”

You tilt your head.

A question. That sounds better than some statement about not seeing you again.

“Okay,” you say.

“When we last spoke, it was about you not having enough time for stuff outside of work,” he begins.

You nod to show you’re following but don’t cut in.

“Well, there’s this small event tomorrow. It’s nothing fancy, just some walking around. I wanted to know if you’d like to go with me?”

Your heart races as he speaks. You’re stumped for words. It’s as if you’ve subconsciously been waiting for this, but now that the time has come, you’re too nervous to answer.

“You can decline,” Wonwoo assures.

Although you’re anxious about the idea of meeting outside of the café, you don’t want to miss the opportunity.

“N-No! I mean, no, I don’t want to decline. What time? Where?” you hurriedly say before he can take back his offer.

He grins and holds out a small piece of paper.

You take it, turning it over to see scribbled numbers. You guess it’s his phone number.

“I can pick you up after work. You close early tomorrow, right?” he asks.

You nod, trying to hide your smile at him remembering your café hours. Though, since he visits frequently, you guess it shouldn’t be that surprising.

“Dress warm, okay?” he adds.

“Okay.”

Wonwoo stands from his seat, and you follow.

“Get some more rest tonight, Yn,” he says softly.

“Y-Yeah. I will,” you reply.

Although you’re no longer fretting over reasons for his no-show yesterday, you’ll be worrying about tomorrow now. Still, you’ll try to sleep—maybe even drink some tea or warm milk. You’ll try for him.

Sunday

Wonwoo comes to the café a few minutes before you close. He’s dressed in a fluffy hoodie layered with a light brown trench coat. He looks so…soft and warm.

Before you depart, you make a drink for each of you. He tries to pay but you profusely veto his offer.

The ride to the event is quiet except for the random music being played from his stereo. You’re unsure how long the ride is, but you don’t care. Even if you’re not speaking, it’s nice being with him in a new environment. It’s nice to see a different side of Wonwoo. And part of you hopes he likes seeing a different side of you too.

The event is free, but since donations are strongly encouraged, you and Wonwoo slip a few bills into the plastic reindeer before stepping onto the lit-up walkway.

People of all ages are enjoying the event. The walkway is wide enough to accommodate a couple of people at a time, but it’s still crowded. It forces you and Wonwoo to bump shoulders several times, and each time, you both apologize.

You notice a few minutes into the walk that he seems tenser than usual. You’re not sure of the reason, and he doesn’t seem inclined to disclose the answer.

You try to distract him by pointing out different features—from big blown-up Santas to mechanical reindeer moving up and down. However, it doesn’t seem too effective.

Wonwoo’s steps eventually begin to slow. He never comes to a complete stop, but with his slow speed, a lot of people pass by. Eventually, there’s a gap in the crowd and his body relaxes.

He must not be a fan of crowds.

“Can we sit for a bit?” you ask, not really needing to rest but there are picnic tables with fake candles on them nearby that are less crowded.

“Sure,” he says.

You guide him to an empty table and sit across from each other.

“Thank you for taking me here,” you smile while glancing around. “It’s so pretty.”

The area is filled with multitudes of holiday decor. There are so many lights strung that you don’t need streetlamps to see. It’s rather magical to see it all. It’s a shame you can’t see this all year round. But then again, it might lose its effect if you see it constantly.

“I’m glad you like it,” he replies.

His eyes drop to your hands clasped on the table. There’s a slight shiver in them.

Suddenly, his hands are covering yours—warmth instantly shooting up your arms from his touch. He says nothing as he rubs his thumbs along your cool skin.

You want to say something; however, it doesn’t feel like you have to, so you just stare at him, a small smile on your face while you bask in the warmth he’s providing.

“How does it feel?” he questions after a few minutes.

You open your mouth to say “good” and to thank him for taking away your coldness, but before you can, he speaks again.

“Getting out, I mean. How does it feel to get out of the café?”

“Oh.” Your face heats rapidly. Thank goodness for your slow reaction. “It’s refreshing.”

Wonwoo hums, nodding.

“Should we walk around again, or should we go? I don’t want you catching a cold,” he says.

“I’d like to see more if that’s okay,” you admit.

“It’s more than okay,” he reassures.

He starts to stand, but you grip his hands to stop him. He stares down at you bemused.

“I have something for you,” you explain.

He sits back down, hands leaving yours when you pull away to retrieve something from your bag.

It’s a small black box with a purple bow on it, albeit the decor is a little squished from being confined to your small bag.

“What’s this?” he asks and carefully brings the box nearby.

“Since you gave me a gift this week,” you say, referring to his tip on Monday, “I got you one as well.”

“You didn’t—”

“Need to? I know. But, I wanted to. And I worked hard on it, so accept it, please?” you say lightly so as to not sound too serious.

He smiles and nods, lifting the lid.

Inside is the bookmark you made him. On the bookmark’s center is a cat with a game controller. It’s simple, but that’s the best you could do with your lack of drawing skills. Attached to the bookmark is a purple tassel.

“You made this?” Wonwoo asks in amazement.

“I’ll only admit to that if you like it,” you say out of nervousness.

Wonwoo laughs and glances at you. “I like it a lot.”

“Then yes, I made it.”

His gaze shifts to the item again, examining it closely for a bit. Then, he sets it back carefully in the box and puts it in his pocket.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly.

“Of course,” you smile.

You and Wonwoo walk around for twenty more minutes before you call it a night. Throughout the entire walk, he held your hand in his free pocket. The warmth from his body combined with his sheltered pocket made your hand clammy. You felt embarrassed at the fact, but Wonwoo refused to release his hold. Truthfully, you didn’t want to let go, but you also didn’t want him to be disgusted at the feeling.

Wonwoo drove you back to your café where your car was.

You tried to demand he stay in your car since he parked next to yours, but he still climbed out.

You stare at his eyes which are framed by his glasses; his cheeks are slightly rosy from the temperature. His dark hair dances softly in the wind. He looks so handsome.

Wonwoo leans forward and connects his lips ever so softly against your cheek. You have the urge to turn your face and capture his lips with yours, but you don’t.

There’s something romantic about going slow.

Wonwoo pulls back with a kind smile.

“You look beautiful tonight, Yn,” he whispers, breath ghosting your face.

You can’t stop the smile forming on your face even if you tried.

“And you look handsome,” you reply.

Wonwoo mirrors your grin.

“Get home safely, alright?” he instructs.

You nod. “You too.”

You unlock your car and climb inside.

Wonwoo lingers outside, watching with his hands in his pockets.

After starting your car and rolling down your window, you lean out and prop your head on your arm that’s resting on the edge.

He bends slightly to see you better, a small grin on his mouth. His face isn’t too close, but it’s closer than it should be for an average person. But, Wonwoo isn’t average.

He’s quiet for a while, and you take the time to observe his features again. Your heart is thumping loudly in your ears. The desire to kiss him resurfaces.

Maybe you’re starting to like Wonwoo. Not just because he’s attractive, kind, funny, and caring, but because he’s Wonwoo.

Wonwoo, who’s been a frequent customer at your café for months.

Wonwoo, who’s always been supportive and kind.

Wonwoo, who’s slowly capturing your heart.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks with a smile still on his face.

“Yeah,” you say, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Because of Wonwoo, you’re always looking forward to the next day.

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chadleys · 8 months

Note

for the sub-astarion fic, just do whatever you see fit but could you atleast sprinkle in a mommy kink with a side of biting kink pls 🙈🙈

›› pairing: astarion x f!reader

›› wordcount: 1k

›› genre: smut, sub!astarion, dom!reader

›› rating: 18+, mdni

›› synopsis: just astarion being the goodest boy, that's all.

›› warnings: mommy kink, biting kink, teasing handjob, d/s dynamics

you love having him like this, in your lap, pressed so close there’s barely any room to decipher between the two of you. which is how you like it, how you know things are meant to be. the two of you; halves of one whole.

you lean back against the rough bark of a cedar and astarion leans against you, his pretty back sealed to your chest with a thin layer of sweat. his scars brush your nipples with every movement.

before you is a canyon, dropping steeply down to the valley below, and the misty mountain range beyond. all of this illuminated in the silvery glow of a full moon, big and brash in the sky, daring you to look at it.

which there’s not a fat chance of.

astarion’s gaze is glued downward, between his legs, where your hands are cradling his swollen balls and stroking lazily at his hard, aching cock.

as for you, you can’t keep your eyes off the side of his beautiful face, your nose buried in his silver curls.

you kiss the nape of his neck, gently, teasing, and astarion’s entire body shudders against you, his grip going tight on your thighs. ❝ darling, ❞ he says, and the usual brash confidence in his voice is nowhere to be found, replaced by a wheedling whimper.

there’s no helping the giggle that climbs out of you, even as your cunt drips, soaking the blanket you laid out to shield yourselves from the dirt and grass.

❝ yes? ❞ you query, and your hand strokes meanly over the tip of his cock, precum slicking the way as you squeeze.

❝ gods, ❞ astarion gasps, going rigid in your arms. ❝ well. i was going to ask if … mm … if you’d deign to go any faster? please? ❞

he turns, trying to give you his best ‘ i’m a beautiful vampire and i always get my way ‘ look.

all you see, however, is the most desperate, wanton little thing you’ve ever laid eyes on. and he is perfect.

it’s almost enough to make you want to speed up, to milk him until he’s spilling all over your hands in record time.

almost.

another quiet laugh bubbles out of you, and you hook your chin over his shoulder to see exactly what you’re doing to him.

his cockhead is red and impossibly swollen, glistening in the moonlight. there was no need for any oil tonight; he’s wet as any woman.

❝ i take that as a no, ❞ he mutters, and his grip once more tightens on your legs as he starts to drive himself up, fucking your fist.

you tut, immediately releasing his cock, leaving it to twitch wetly against his abdomen, utterly disappointed.

astarion makes a beautiful, frustrated little noise, bucks once more, and laxes back against you.

with the tip of one finger, you tease the head of his cock, just underneath the frenulum, and are rewarded with a fresh flood of precum and astarion’s exasperated sigh.

❝ you can cum like this, or not at all. ❞

❝ i — ❞ he’s about to argue with you, glaring at you out of the corner of his darkened eyes.

you give him a stern look, and he must think better of it, gaze slowly slipping away.

you sigh. ❝ you’re always so eager to try and wrest control, my love. ❞ affectionately, to show him you aren’t upset with him, you rub your nose just below his ear as you purr, ❝ why can’t you just let me take control for once? to make you feel good? i know you’ll love leaning back and relinquishing control, showing me just what a good boy you can be. ❞

the words ‘ good ‘ and ‘ boy ‘ strung together have the most gorgeous effect on the vampire in your lap. he sighs and lists back, head thrown to one side. leaving you the perfect access to his long, pale throat.

no hesitation, you sink your teeth in.

astarion yelps and his cock twitches where you’ve grabbed hold of it again.

❝ mother, ❞ he admonishes, breathless. his gaze retrieves yours; he’s joking, but only somewhat.

you decide to play along. ❝ yes, my sweet darling boy? ❞

he sniffs, looking bashfully away. ❝ i’m supposed to be the bloodthirsty vampire around here . . . ❞

starting to slowly pump your hand on him again, you press your breasts harder into his back, so he can feel how hard your nipples really are. ❝ mm, guess what? right now, you’re just my good boy. ❞

a hitch of breath, astarion’s hips aching to just thrust up into your grip until he cums.

you shush him, keeping a steady, defiant pace with your hand.

the first sign of his impending climax is a tightening of his balls in the palm of your hand as you roll them gently. the second, his nails digging deliciously into the meat of your thighs as he starts to pant.

❝ love — ❞

❝ i know, astarion. i know. just let it go, darling. be the good boy i know you are and cum for me. all over yourself. ❞

amidst the soft moist sounds of your hands pushing him over the edge, astarion gasps and his hips thrust sharply up, every muscle in his body going taut. the sight is incomparable. you could watch astarion lose himself time after time and never get sick of it.

cum shoots in thick ropes over the vampire’s toned abdomen, his thighs quivering, cock throbbing and twitching between your fingers as you glide one knuckle along that sensitive spot just below his contracting balls.

❝ by the gods, ❞ astarion chokes, as the strings of cum die out, the remainder oozing instead over your hands and wrists.

❝ someone was pent up, ❞ you giggle, slowing your ministrations. ❝ think we got everything or should i try for more? ❞

astarion grabs for one of your hands to still it, and you find that his fingers are trembling. ❝ please, no. i . . . i do think that’s enough for one night. ❞

❝ hm. fine. ❞ you scoot back just enough to be able to cant your hips up, dragging your wet cunt along his lower back. ❝ my turn, then. ❞

#astarion smut #sub!astarion #astarion #astarion hc #ask #anon #dom!reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you

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eupheme · 1 year

Text

— renegade

joel miller x f!reader

rated E - 3k words

tags - light angst, established situationship, nightmares, mutual yearning, lots of pretending, soft!dom Joel, restraints, face fucking, fingering, PiV

a/n - inspired by ‘renegade’ by big red machine

“Is this why you’re here?” Joel asks you, shifting his hips, pushing himself deeper into your fist. His voice rough with sleep, the sound making you squirm behind him.

It was easy to pretend it was.

That it was just physical. Fucking the nightmares from your head - that it could be anyone else burying themselves inside you, and the outcome would be the same.

You sleep better here. Anything is better than a night spent alone in the room that isn’t yours, and never will be. Nightmares find you there - seeking out your sorrow, draining you dry.

When it becomes too much, as it often does, you go to him. Going out into the night, slipping like a ghost into the shadows.

Finding the familiar way to inside - finally able to breathe again when the window slides shut with a click. When you’re curled in his bed, the blankets pulled over you like a shield.

It will get you shot, one day. Sneaking in like this. With anyone else you might have been already - but not with Joel.

You think he doesn’t really mind your nightly visits. The way he keeps the crates stacked just so, beneath the fire escape.

How he only locks one side of the window after you leave - the other just out of the reach of your knife, when you wiggle the latch open from the outside.

It smells like him - these faded, patterned sheets. Ones he’d never pick out for himself, in another life.

Before.

Ones that you can’t imagine him not having, because this is the only way you know him.

The familiarity soothes you, even though he’s not here. Exhaustion starting to weigh you down, starting at the tips of your limbs and curling around you like vines.

Eyelids growing heavy, listening to the rain that’s just begun to sprinkle down. Drowning out the stomping rows of boots outside - a white noise that lulls you to sleep.

This time - you don’t dream.

———

He almost missed that you’re here. The sound of your breathing, the little hitches of breath while you sleep, engulfed by the downpour.

Only seeing the lump in the blankets as he sheds his rain-stained coat, the canvas soaked-though at the shoulders.

A mark deepening between his brows as he glances at your form - the jacket and pants thrown over the broken radiator. Moving to the window, flipping the latch on the left side back into place.

You’re slippery. Squeezing through cracks. Worming your way into his room and under the hardened armor of his skin.

For anyone else, this layer you’ve peeled back and crawled beneath would be no more than surface-level. An acquaintance, perhaps.

But with Joel, it’s so much more. It makes his skin itch, as if it was flayed back - exposed and raw.

Uncomfortable. But not unwelcome.

He hadn’t seen you today - the silent check he does. Just needing a glance of your hair, your shape in the crowd. It’s enough, a second in the long minutes and hours that make up his day.

It’s a small relief, a fresh breath of air he didn’t know he needed.

Silently, he strips down. Clothes folded on a chair with chipped paint - someone old DIY gone wrong. Looking like The End had already hit, years before it did.

A hand running through his hair, pushing the damp strands back, padding over to the edge of the bed.

“Come on, honey.” His words hold a softness that doesn’t exist when the sun is shining - a moment he knows you won’t remember.

Gently easing you over, so he can fit himself in behind you. Curling into your warmth, the blankets tucked back around you both.

The frown easing from his face when you murmur - face burrowing into the pillow, fingers brushing against the arm that wraps around your ribs. The hand that flattens against your stomach.

His name, no more than sleepy murmur, as you get comfortable again.

“Joel.”

He wonders if you’re dreaming about him.

He wonders if he’ll dream about you.

———

He’s solid, strong back and broad-shouldered. Shifting in the night to face away from you, as he often did. For comfort or another attempt to keep others out - a literal barrier - you’ll never know. Your chest presses against his spine, an arm curling around his waist.

Your eyes crack open. It’s still dark out, the sky just starting to streak with grey. You hadn’t slept long but you had slept soundly - the best you’ve had in days.

The tip of your nose brushes against the cotton of his shirt. Shifting so you can move higher, so it can skim against the base of his neck, instead. Press into the soft hair that curls - smelling like rain and sweat and him.

Your fingers trace the cotton at his hip, skim across the elastic waistline of his boxers. It had been over two weeks since you had last caved - had last come here.

It had been a good run. But the nightmares had come back - flashes of your past that you can’t bear to relive.

He shields you from them. Waking easily at the first sound of your muttering - his hand curling around your shoulder, low voice pulling you back out.

You know he understands. How he talks in his sleep as well, how you do the same for him. An unspoken agreement.

He shifts, against you. Only the slightest change in his breathing - he can wake from a dead sleep in an instant.

A hand, warm and calloused, finding yours as it brushes the strip of bare skin where his shirt has ridden up.

Dragging your hand down, to where he strains against the fabric. The pressure of his fingers curling yours around his length as he groans.

His hand leaves yours to tug down the waistband, removing the barrier between your palm and his hot, bare skin. Pushing them down his thighs, kicking them off to twist in the blankets.

The tip of your thumb brushes over the head, smearing precum over the tip. Air hisses between clenched teeth as he inhales, as you press yourself closer, crushing yourself against him as your arm pumps.

“Is this why you’re here?” Joel asks you, shifting his hips, pushing himself deeper into your fist. His voice rough with sleep, the sound making you squirm behind him.

It was easy to pretend it was.

That he didn’t go to bed hard, like this - the only thing keeping him from waking you up was knowing how much you needed the sleep.

That it was just physical. Fucking the nightmares from your head - that it could be anyone else burying themselves inside you, and the outcome would be the same.

It’s a lie, though. You both know it.

He’s the only one you go to. You’re the only one he’s let in.

You hum your response, trying to peek over the bulk of his shoulder. To watch him fucking your hand, skin sliding against skin.

Lips press against his neck again and he shudders. Moving your hand from him, twisting in your grip until you’re trapped beneath the spread of thick thighs.

The heavy jut of his flushed cock swaying, as he adjusts himself on top of you. Leaving a damp patch smeared across your breast, as he takes himself in his hand again.

He hasn’t meant to end up quite like this.

Had just wanted you warm and soft beneath him. Moving up too high on your waist on accident - still hazy with sleep - ending up with your arms pinned against your sides.

Making to move, until he sees the way you’re focused on his hand, your lips parting. Showing off a pink flash of tongue. Fingers gripping on to his ankles - the only part of him you can reach - nails digging in.

“You want this?” He asks, stroking himself - his fist fitting in the valley between your breasts. His other hand cupping his sack, squeezing.

Leaving you to watch the flex of his forearm, the flushed tip appearing between thumb and forefinger. Nodding, your tongue peeking out to wet your lips.

“Ask me for it.” It’s not a request, his head tilting as your hands tighten around him.

As he angles his cock down, shifting until it’s hovering, just out of reach. Your chin lifts, mouth opening as your eyes fix on his.

Joel’s jaw grits. You can see the heave of his chest, the hand cupping himself dropping to the curve of your breast. Thumb rolling over the tight bud - the sensation dulled by your thin top, but it’s him and your body still sings.

You crack first.

“Wanna taste you.” Your eyes are still on him, can see the way he swallows hard, how he shifts over you.

“Fuck, baby.” He growls. The hand around his cock drops to curl around the back of your neck, twisting in your hair to angle you.

All while he moves forward, pressing himself against the flat of your tongue. Where you’re open and waiting for the weight of his cock, to taste the salt of his skin and the drop that still clings to the tip.

Wet and aching for him already - a dull thudding between your thighs, where they press and rub together.

You groan, as he inches inside. Lips wrapping around and sucking, causing him to hiss out a breath, his hips hitching.

Nudging him a little too deep, as you cough - tears springing to your eyes. He shifts back with soothing words, the hand on your breast moving to cup your jaw - thumb rubbing against your cheek.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” There’s a pinch to his brow, your head shaking minutely to tell him it’s fine. A second, as he thinks, “Tap my leg if it’s too much. You got that?”

He waits for you to listen, giving an experimental tap. Before he tries again - hips rocking, a slow and shallow press into your mouth.

You take him, relaxing into the cup of his hand. Eyes wandering across his stomach, chest - whatever you can see when he draws back. Closing, so you can listen to the groans that reverberate in his chest. Letting him use you, to fuck your mouth - trusting him, putting yourself in his hands.

A hand that flexes and twists in your hair. His thumb of the other sweeping against your cheekbone, the hollow under your eye - brushing away the tear that glistens against your skin.

So tender it makes your chest ache. Fingers curling against his leg, squeezing. He’s pulling himself from you, then - out of the warmth of your mouth, as you swallow.

Trying to protest that it wasn’t the signal, your lips glossy and shining. He’s shifting back, nudging your thighs wide to fit between them. Lowering himself down, his cock wet and thick and digging into your hip.

“I know.” He murmurs. Before his mouth presses to yours, the kiss sloppy. Tongue brushing where his cock had been, as he tugs at the waistband of your underwear.

Dragging them down to join his, fingers dipping between your thighs. Groaning into your mouth when he feels how wet you are from sucking him off, the tips pressing and circling against your clit.

You whine his name, the stubble on his cheek scraping against your skin. Breath hot in your ear as his weight pins you down. Thumb smearing your slick across your clit, so he can fit a finger inside.

You’re tight, molten hot. Gripping him already as you arch into him, as he slips in another. Curling them until they drag against a spot that makes you moan - strung tight beneath him.

He need to calm down, make you come, before he fucks you. A pressure swiftly building in his belly when he watched you, the trust in the way you took him.

The sound of his fingers is loud, the wet suck as he fits in a third. Stretching you out, each of your breaths harsh, your nails biting into his skin.

Already so needy, already near the edge. Each of your breaths coming shorter as his hips press against yours. Letting your fingers drift to feel the hard curve of his cock, hearing his grunt in your ear when you tug on him.

“Don’t worry about me.” He groans, voice rough before his lips press against the column of your neck.

As if you ever weren’t.

As if you didn’t always want him.

His words were unneeded, because you’re losing concentration quickly. Only focused on the tension in your belly - the pressure like a finger squeezing down the trigger, about to fire.

He’s relentless, fingers pounding, the wet flick of his thumb. Feeling your racing pulse beneath his lips, the sharp gasp of each breath, your muscles flexing.

Tightening around him until that tension snaps. Pleasure thrumming through you as you buck into his hand, your mind going blissfully blank and fuzzy - your moan strung out and pitched high.

Missing his words, feeling the brush of his other hand over your legs, smoothing over your hips. You can just make out the timbre, leaving you to imagine the rest.

Christ, just like that.

Good fucking girl.

Fingers slow as he pushes himself up, only removing them to tug at your shirt - pulling his own from his shoulders.

Folding himself between your limp, spread thighs, before hooking his elbows under your knees. Opening you up, where you’re soaked and the fluttering is still ebbing.

The twist of his wrist as he lines himself up - smearing his tip across your slit. The briefest tease, indulgence, before he slides in. Sinking inside of your tight heat in a long, fluid motion.

“Fuck, I missed you.” You breathe, brow pinched as he fills a chasm you didn’t realize you had.

His breath comes out ragged.

It’s not in the script. The words you both know. No, this had come from the soft pulp of your heart, a late night confession.

He doesn’t know how to take it. Mouth crushing against yours as he sinks deeper, swallowing your words to keep them safe.

Trying not to think about how his own answer had sprung to his lips, unbidden. It’s dangerous. To think like that, to have any sort of claim on anything, now.

It’s easier to pretend you just miss his cock.

That you just came here to forget.

That’s something he can do - drawing his hips back, snapping back in. Watching the way your tits bounce, everything softened and hazy with the thin grey light that creeps in.

Shifting, lifting a leg to brace on his shoulder, pushing him deeper as you gasp. The other pressing against his ribs, curling around his waist.

Freeing up his arms so he can taste your release on his fingertips. Licking you from him before he presses the calloused pads against your own mouth.

You take him, tongue curling around spit-slicked fingers. Tasting yourself on them, your sighs muffled when he presses down on your tongue.

Thumb dragging against your lower lip, before he pulls himself from the heat of your pretty mouth. Finding his way to where you take him, tracing slick fingers up your slit. Feeling where you’re stretched wide around him, puffy and slick.

Teasing at your clit - as your hands clench in the sheets, twisted up near your ears.

In a world where the right protection can mean life or death - where a bite can end everything - it’s a wonder how you bare yourself to him. His hand ghosting across soft skin, from breasts to hip. Fingertips indenting flesh, gripping, pulling, tugging.

Watching with greedy eyes how you gaze up at him, an ankle digging into his shoulder - trying to force him deeper. He leans forward, putting more force behind his thrusts, watching the way your lips part with a soft “ah!” with every breath.

Fingers pressing and swiping against the tight bud of your clit, the way he knows you like it.

He needed this too - to bury himself in you. Feel the way you wrap tight and warm around him. His own tongue loosened like this, his own release building again.

“Christ, look at you.” He grits out.

Admiring. It makes you preen, lips stretched wide in a grin, a bright flash of teeth in the dark. Eyes half-lidded and heavy, doing your own slow sweep.

Over a tight waist that your leg hooks around. Bare stomach and broad chest, dusted with dark hair, only the slightest hint of grey. Not like the strands at his temples, the ones that streak throughout the curls. Peppering his facial hair.

Ruining you again. It had been a long time since you wanted something, and you can’t get him out of your head. Always coming back, even though you’re sure it won’t end well.

Because nothing does, any more.

You won’t let your soft heart ruin tonight. Not when his thumb sweeps across your hip. His eyes dark and glittering as he watches your face, as he works you up again.

The sharp rut of his cock and swirl of his fingers so perfect, that the tears start to well up, again.

“Joel,” You say his name again, “F-fuck, I’m gonna come.”

You felt like heaven on his fingers - tight and hot and sopping wet for him. It doesn’t hold a candle to now, how you squirm beneath him, the slap of his skin against yours.

The snug fit of your cunt, as you clench around him.

“Want you to.” He rasps out, resisting the urge to fuck you harder, faster. Keeping the same pace, the same circle of his fingers, “Let me feel you, baby.”

Need you to.

You come with a cry. Back bowing against the mattress, limb wrapping around him. Turning his thrusts into a sloppy grind, your hands coming to grip at his forearms. The waves crashing over you stronger and longer than before, your vision turning dark and hazy.

“Fuck. Fuck-” He growls - as the tight pulse pulls him to the edge.

It’s too much.

It’s all he can think about, as he pulls himself from you. Fisting his cock, jerking himself until he spills across your mound, your slick pussy.

How he wishes he could have stay buried, throbbing inside you, coating your walls with his release. Marking you, only pulling out so he can watch it leak from you later.

The word echos in his ears, layered with the thudding of his heart.

Dangerous.

———

You’re gone, when he wakes up.

The hazy morning sun is just barely casting warm rays of light onto the worn wooden floorboards as he drags himself from bed - a hand passing over his face, pressing into his eyes.

Pushing himself up, making his way over to the window.

But there’s nothing - just puddles collecting in the broken ridges of the roads. The streets washed clean from the rain.

Fingers drift, tracing up the cool frame of the window, until it’s touching the chipped white paint of the latch. Lost in thought for a long moment - before his hand drops back down to the sill.

He leaves the right side unlocked.

thank you so much for reading! 💕

#no show spoilers! 💕#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine

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azullumi · 5 months

Text

“it’s a quarter after one, i’m all alone, and i need you now” ; wanderer

summary — how does he react to you calling him in the middle of the night over some silly reason?

pairing — wanderer (w/gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, established relationship, modern settings, not proof-read (i never proof-read) ; ficlet/scenario

words — 760

note — how do people even write dialogues rhat smoothly like i write a single sentencd of whatever they’re saying and i just think, “oh no they won’t say that” and i have to rewrite it 5 more times

a loud sound of a ring echoes throughout the room, disrupting the peaceful flow of tranquil silence that rests in the corners of the place, and abruptly pulling him out of his sleep. wanderer groans, hand reaching out to grab his phone that sits on the nightstand.

the flash of the screen blinded him for a moment, causing him to squint his eyes until his vision adjusted to the brightness.

1:15. the numbers on the very top of his screen says. displayed along with it was your caller id, your contact saved as a nickname that he gave you.

although he didn’t have to question who was calling him at this time as he knew it was you—you were the only exception to his do not disturb focus of his phone, the only contact whose notifications can go through the strict barriers of the status.

the persistent melody continues to ring for a moment before he answers, “this better be important.” despite the nature of his words, there lingered no hint of malice in his tone but instead, a curious blend of weary patience and unspoken understanding. he didn’t mind you bothering him even if it’s nothing important—your intrusion was always a welcome one.

“hey, were you sleeping?”

“not anymore, obviously. what is it?” the line carried the subtle rustle of movement, the telltale sound of rustled sheets, as wanderer shifted and sat upright from where he was, his head resting against the headboard as he waited for you to answer.

“can you accompany me as i go get water?”

a confused ‘huh?’ comes out from his line. just the single syllable itself wrapped with layers of many words, asking you if you were seriously saying that. if you really called him at this time just so you could have him accompany you with the mundane task of getting water.

“i just watched something scary, okay? it’s not my

fault that the house in the movie looked similar to mine and also do you know what time—don’t laugh!”

“are you genuinely afraid over something as trivial as that?” wanderer says amidst the fading echoes of his laughter, leaving a ghost of what might pass for a smile on his expression. he seems amused over the predicament that you were having; that is just like him, finding entertainment in your suffering.

“whatever, i’m going to go get my water now.” what proceeded was the sound of your footsteps, indicating your journey to the kitchen. “don’t you dare hang up on me.”

“i wasn’t planning to.”

and as if i would. but the unspoken words dissolved on his throat before he could even get himself to say it, leaving him with nothing but silence as he listened to your voice instead, talking about whatever as if a soothing balm that eases the fear which nestles in your nerves.

“i saw this cat earlier this morning and it was so grumpy. it reminded me of you.”

“you think that in every grumpy cat that you see.”

“well, you act like one.”

in that moment, the simple act of conversing between you two becomes a lifeline, bridging the gap between fear and solace. your topics jumped from one point to another, never letting the silence fill in the moment—wanderer never ceases to respond to whatever you say, a testament of how he’s always there for you despite the playful teasing sprinkled throughout.

there was the sound of the door closing before he hears you say: “got my water now.”

“figured.”

silence envelopes both sides of the line, albeit, it only lasted for a short moment before being broken up by your voice.

“thanks for picking up the phone.” i mean, he could have chosen to just ignore the ring and continue to sleep but no, he didn’t. instead, he chose to answer and comply with your silly little request because your ass was too scared to go out of your room in the middle of the night, thinking that someone or something was going to come after and chase you just like that one scene in what you watched. he stayed with you all throughout, letting the comfort of his voice dispel the shadows that threatened to linger—even when he was scaring you and telling you that he can hear something.

“not like i don’t answer every time.” you could call him, ring his phone many times no matter what time it is, and he would pick up the phone every single time; that’s just how he is, for you and only you.

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cheollipop · 1 year

Text

ginger & cinnamon tea

navi | taglist

pairing: choi san x fem!reader

w.c.: 3.5k

tags: smut, fluff, established relationship, sick fic

after his roommate suggested a way to get rid of the sniffles, san – being the trusting friend he was – just had to try it.

warnings: praise, begging (so... much... begging), pussy-drunk! san, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (boooo!!! 👎🏻), multiple rounds/orgasms, multiple creampies, a sprinkle of overstimulation, a hint of anal (m receiving), one (1) chomp, san's stamina is through the roof in this one oof, perhaps a slight breeding kink bc why not, I think that's all-

A/N: here it is... my first smut fic (yes, its another sick fic. we won't speak about it)... I'm absolutely terrified posting this, but I really hope you all enjoy reading it! a special thanks to alyssa (aka @toxicccred <3) for entertaining my horny thoughts for literally hours yesterday. mwah ily lots.

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

San's sneeze blasted through your phone's speaker, your body flinching back at the sound.

"Sorry," he smiled sheepishly.

You shook your head, a small smile on your face as you watched his face sink deeper into his pillow.

"Does your head still hurt?"

He hummed. "It's not as bad. I think the painkillers have finally kicked in."

"What about your fever? Have Woo check it for you."

"(Y/n)."

"Have him make you some soup as well. With extra veggies-"

"Baby, calm down. It's just a cold," San chuckled, the sound coming out rough and gravelly.

You pouted, eyebrows furrowing, exhaling a long sigh. "I hate not being there for you when you're sick. This business trip wasn't even that important." You slumped back in your armchair, yet to change out of your clothes and into something more comfortable.

"You're coming back tomorrow," he reminded you, clearing his throat, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. "You can give me all your love and attention then."

His words brought a smile to your lips. Perhaps it was also the two dimples you loved so much peeking out to greet you.

"No kisses, though."

His bottom lip jutted out. "I guess I'll settle for cuddles."

"Then I'll be sure to put my all into them," you promised.

You kept the call open while you went about your nighttime routine, telling San about your two-day business trip, and how your boss got too drunk and embarrassed himself over dinner. Sliding under the covers, your skin glowing with the fresh layer of skin care he had bought you for valentine's day, you rested your head on the pillow. Neither of you spoke, simply pretending that the other was an arm's reach away as your breaths slowly evened out, falling asleep to soft smiles and pretty dimples.

The door opened after a few seconds of you knocking, a large smile on the man's face greeting you.

"Welcome back!"

"Thank you, Woo.” He pulled you into a hug, squeezing you once before letting go. You spoke while you slipped your shoes off, "how's he doing?"

"He's a big boy, don't worry too much about him." Wooyoung walked with you as you made your way to San's room.

You breathed out a laugh. "You know I can't help it."

Wooyoung only smiled, ruffling your hair before disappearing into his room – the door adjacent to San's.

Peeking into San's room, your eyes instantly met with his. He was sitting up in bed, holding a tissue to his nose. You couldn't help the grin splitting your face, nearly hopping with excitement as you made your way towards him. San threw the tissue god-knows-where and held his arms open for you, wrapping them around your frame once you were close enough. You pressed your lips to his forehead, smacking a kiss onto the heated skin before sitting by his side and relaxing into his embrace.

"I've missed you, my love," San muttered against your hair, kissing your temple. His voice was hoarse, and you could tell he had a stuffy nose.

"Me too. So much," you inhaled his scent, hands running up and down his clothed back.

Wooyoung peeked his head back into the room, gym bag slung over his shoulder. He smiled at the sight of the two of you holding each other so close, he wasn't sure where you began and where San ended.

"Alright, lovebirds, I'm going to the gym for a few hours," he spoke, unsure if you could even hear him from how deeply molded into each other the two of you were.

San waved at him with one of the hands wrapped around your back, and you sent him off with a quiet "have fun."

Wooyoung hesitated at the door, peeking in once more, the corner of his lips curling into a sly smirk. "You know…"

You turned your head to look at the man, raising an eyebrow at him, urging him to speak.

"They say some sweet lovemaking gets rid of colds prettyyy quick," he winked.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you could see San's ears turning a bright red – yet you weren't sure if that was Wooyoung’s doing or the cold's.

"Ya!" San grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him.

Wooyoung ran away, effectively dodging the swarm of pillows being thrown at him, his squeaky giggles echoing in the apartment even after the front door clicked shut behind him.

"Sorry about that. Just ignore him," San pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, tucking you back into his chest.

You let out a breathy laugh, nuzzling your cheek against San's collarbone. "It's Wooyoung, I'm used to his antics by now."

"You're right," he grinned, laying down on his bed, taking you with him.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better, Sannie?"

"Just let me hold you," he flexed his arms around you, squeezing you for a few seconds before relaxing again.

You hummed, letting your eyes flutter shut, your hand sliding under his shirt to settle against the soft skin of his hip.

You remained that way, limbs tangled up with his under the comforter, your cheek pressed to his chest as it rose and fell steadily. You felt his breath hitch, chest hiccuping as he cleared his throat repeatedly. You raised your head to meet his eyes, your hair disheveled and tangled from where his fingers had been running through it.

“Are you okay? Does something hurt?”

His hand smoothed down your unkempt locks, cupping the back of your neck and giving it a small squeeze. “I’m okay,” he cleared his throat again.

You stifle a laugh at his attempt to hold back his cough. “Don’t hold it back, you idiot.”

He pouted, muttering under his breath, “such heartwarming words.” He hid his face in the crook of his elbow and coughed, the sound ripping through his chest. He winced, eyes shut tightly and the corners of his mouth turning downwards.

“Oh, baby,” your fingers ran through his hair, scratching at his scalp before moving down to cup his cheek. San leaned into your touch, turning his head to kiss your palm, his skin heated against yours. “I’ll go make you some tea.”

“Don’t go,” he mumbled, taking your free hand in his and interlocking your fingers with his, giving them a tight squeeze.

“I’ll just be a moment,” you leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Just stay here, I don’t need any tea,” San touched his forehead to yours.

You kissed the tip of his nose, then placed another one on his cheekbone. “Yes you do.” Untangling yourself from him, you made your way to the kitchen, stopping at his bedroom door. “Just call out if you need me.”

You left the room, finally allowing yourself to laugh at the expression San was giving you – bottom lip jutting out, eyes big and pleading.

He was so cute, you thought, as you stared at the boiling water. Dropping a few pieces of ginger into the water, followed by a stick of cinnamon, you left them to boil on low heat for a few minutes. You turned the stove off before placing a tea bag into the kettle and watched as the liquid slowly darkened.

Pouring the steaming tea into his favourite mug, you walked back to his room.

You immediately noticed his restless shuffling under the thick blanket, his breathing heavy and labored, a sheen of sweat reflecting the dim light from the small lap perched on his bedside.

"San?" You hurried to his side, setting the mug down by the lamp before placing your palm on his forehead, worried his fever might have returned. "Does anything hurt?"

"(Y/n), please…" He muttered, voice so breathy his words were barely coherent, still fidgeting under his blanket.

"What's wrong, Sannie?" You began to push the blanket off him, allowing the cool air to hit his heated skin.

Your worry faded as soon as you pulled it off his torso, leaving it gathered at his knees. Your eyes traveled between his pants – pulled midway down his thighs – and his hand, wrapped around his hard length, his hips thrusting into his fist with vigor.

"S-san! What are you doing?" Your hands twitched at your sides, not knowing what to do, your eyes stuck on San's lower half. Arousal pooled between your legs, waves of heat surging through your body.

"Please, (Y/n)- ah," he whined. His fingers squeezed around his girth, the breathy moan that escaped his lips going straight to your core. "Please, help me. Wooyoung said-"

"Sannie, Wooyoung’s an idiot. You need to rest," your voice wavered, prying your eyes off San's middle to meet his eyes.

"Please… please, please, (Y/n)."

You were stuck battling between your morals and your arousal, rubbing your thighs together as you struggled to speak. But San was looking up at you with hooded eyes, lips parted as he panted heavily, hips never ceasing their movement. You eyed the bead of precum leaking from his tip – how his hand smeared it down his length with its relentless movement. With those flushed cheeks and whispered pleads – how could you ever say no?

"What can I do to make you feel better?"

"Ah, San. Fuck. Your mouth is so-," warm, you wanted to say before San ripped another moan out of you, your hand fisted in his hair as he lapped at your cunt like a starved man.

He slipped another finger alongside the two he had stuffed inside you, curling them to drag along your walls, pressing against the spot that made your back arch, your breathy moans egging him on.

"Taste so good," he nuzzled his nose against your clit, his tongue slipping down to lick up the wetness dripping out of you and around his fingers. His hips rutted against the sheets where he laid on his stomach, eyes fluterring shut as he breathed heavily against your folds, drunk off your arousal.

"Oh, God. San- hnngh," your hips jumped off the bed, your hand on the back of San's head helping you push him closer to your core. "I'm about to- ah, baby, you're making me feel so good."

San's fingers thrusted into you harder, encouraged by your praise, pressing against your sweet spot every time he pushed back in. His tongue was back on your clit, alternating between lapping at it and sucking it between his lips. Your back arched once more as waves of pleasure rushed through your body, your thighs shaking around San's face as he helped you ride out your high, his fingers deep inside you while his tongue worked to swallow everything you gave him.

Panting heavily, your eyes closed, trying to regain your breath. "Shit, San."

San climbed up your body, his chin dripping with his spit and your arousal. "Did that feel good?" He looked at you through hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling at the same rate as yours.

“Yes, San, it was amazing,” you breathed out a laugh, jumping when the tip of his cock brushed against your sensitive clit. San leaned closer, his chest pressed against yours, head tucked into the crook of your neck.

"Can I-" San pressed his lips against your skin, taking the shell of your ear between his teeth, the hand not holding him up wrapping around his cock again. He pumped himself a few times before running his tip along your folds, his precum mixing with the spit and arousal.

You tucked a few strands behind his ear, holding his cheek in your hand, smiling when he nuzzled into the touch. "Kiss me, Sannie."

San shook his head against your palm. "I don't want to get you sick."

You moved your hand to his nape, pulling his face closer to yours, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips, smiling against the skin. "I think it's a little too late for that."

That was all it took for San to slam his lips against yours and moaning into your mouth, his teeth clashing against your front ones, desperately biting into your bottom lip.

"Let me have you, please, let me," he whispered against your lips, diving back in to suck your bitten bottom lip into his mouth.

You nodded, reaching down to take his length between your fingers – eliciting a sharp hiss from the man above you – and positioned him at your entrance, adjusting your position to take him more easily. San pushed forward, his tip breaching your tight hole, sliding more of his length inside you as his tongue ran over the roof of your mouth, sucking your tongue between his lips. He bottomed out inside you, pulling back to pant against your lips, his moans breathy and needy. Grinding his hips against yours, your eyes rolled back with a whispered fuck.

San pressed his forehead to yours, struggling to keep his eyes open while your walls squeezed around his length. "Is that okay, baby? God, you feel so good, I could cum right now."

"It feels so- so good, Sannie," you cupped his cheeks, one hand slipping down to his neck. "Just- please, move."

With his lips attached to your neck, he gave a few slow thrusts, the stretch of his cock between your walls almost overwhelming. You wrapped your arms around San's shoulders, feeling his muscles flex under your touch.

"I need-" he panted against your skin, lips pressed to your cheek, peppering open-mouthed kisses all over your face. San bent one of his knees, pressing it into the mattress by your hips, your thigh hooked over his. "I need more, please. Can I have more, please baby?"

San's eyes were teary as they stared into yours, pleading, his hand squeezing the flesh of your hip, cock dragging against your walls.

Your hand slid down to his lower back, lips pressing against his jaw. "Take what you want, Sannie, I'm all yours."

Digging the knee by your hip into the mattress, San pushed his cock all the way inside you, rolling his hips until they were flush with yours, your eyes rolling back at the stretch. With a hand on the underside of your thigh, he bent it back until your knee rested under your armpit before he began to piston his hips, building a steady rhythm as he fucked the moans out of you. San’s lips pressed gentle kisses down the column of your throat, stopping to suck and bite at the flesh, leaving behind a trail of purple and blue bruises that you would scold him for later.

He breathed heavily against your skin, a mix of grunts and airy moans escaping his lips. “You’re so perfect, every last bit of you,” he took your nipple into his mouth, giving it a sharp suck before biting down on it, your body jolting under him.

“San – a-ahh – more, give me more.” Your whole body spasmed every time his cock brushed against your sweet spot, his hand pushing your other leg over his shoulder, folding you in half so he could fuck you even harder. “You feel so good, baby. So, so good.”

“Fuck. I’m not going to last,” he tongue made a trail up your cleavage to the hollow of your neck, moving to your face and slotting his lips against yours, running his tongue over your teeth.

Please, please, please, you repeated, unsure of what exactly you were asking for, San’s hips slamming so hard against yours it left your brain lagging. He brought the hand on your thigh down to your sopping folds, two fingers rubbing hastily at your swollen clit as he tried to bring you over the edge with him. Your walls clenched around his throbbing cock as a numbing wave of pleasure coursed through your body. San’s hips stuttered, managing a few more thrusts before stilling, cock pushed all the way inside your pulsing cunt as the familiar warmth of his cum took over your senses. A series of high-pitched moans escaped his lips as he emptied his load inside you.

He pulled out just enough to shoot the last rope of cum onto your mound, rubbing it through your folds with the tip of his cock, your legs closing in around his hips when he brushed against your clit.

He looked down at the mess he had made before sheathing himself back inside your cunt, pushing some of his cum out in the process.

“S-san!” Your hips jolted, trying to move away from him as you began to feel overstimulated.

“I’m sorry, please, just-” He rocked his hips into yours, his face tucked into your neck, his hot breath blowing against your skin. “I need more, (Y/n).”

Your thighs shook uncontrollably around him, the pleasure mixing with pain as your nerves went into overdrive. But San was looking at you with teary eyes, sniffing every other second as his nose started running. He looked so fucked out, hair disheveled and the sheen of sweat covering his body reflecting the dim light. He pushed his hips flush against yours, grinding slowly, unable to stop himself as waves of pleasure shot through his spine.

“Please… just one more… please, baby, will you give it to me?” He pressed his lips to your cheek, then to your nose, and finally your mouth, placing short sweet kisses on your lips while he begged you for more.

When the tears welling up in his eyes – a mixture of his cold and the pleasure overwhelming his every sense – dampened his precious skin, his eyes glimmering as he looked down at you, you knew you had lost this battle. Perhaps even the war, and everything in between.

“I’ll give you anything you want, Sannie,” you whispered against his lips, moaning into his mouth as his thrusts picked up their pace, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing between the four walls.

Sliding his arms under you, he held you closer to him, your tits squeezing against his chest as his cock slid in and out of you, pushing directly against your g-spot with every thrust. San’s moans got louder – needier – as he pumped himself into you, desperately chasing his high.

“You’re taking me so well, my love – ahhh – fuck, (Y/n), every single inch,” he bit down on your shoulder, squeezing your waist so tight he was bound to leave bruises. “I’m going to fill you up with so much cum, it’ll be dripping out of you for days. You'll take all of it, won't you?”

His words made your walls clamp up on him, his thrusts faltering and turning sloppy. “Please, Sannie, want your cum so bad – hnnngh,” your nails dragged over the soft skin of his back, your eyes rolling back when his fingers made contact with your clit, rubbing at it desperately, reveling in the feeling of your pussy clenching around his cock. “I’m- fuck, I’m so close.”

"My pretty baby," he slid his tongue over your parted lips. "So beautiful, letting me fuck my cum into her."

Your hand slid down his slick skin to squeeze at the firm flesh of his ass, making him groan into your neck. Slowly, your fingers made their way between his cheeks, brushing over his puckered hole. San’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, pounding his cock into you with fervor as you sunk the tip of your finger into his ass, feeling it clench around your digit. A familiar warmth surged through you as San pumped his cum into you, sliding his cock in and out of your abused cunt as ribbons of white painted your walls. He slowly stilled his hips and you felt his cock throbbing inside you, his cum fucked so deep into you, you feared no contraceptive could stop you from bearing his children. He leaned in, pressing his mouth to yours as he filled you up; his lips parted after a few seconds, the pleasure leaving him too fucked out to do anything but moan and groan into your mouth.

“(Y/n), baby, you feel so good... it won’t stop coming out,” he ground his hips into yours, feeling more of his cum filling you up, a stream of it leaking out and pooling on his sheets.

The tears in his eyes, the euphoric expression on his face, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your sensitive clit, the feeling of his cock buried so deep within you still shooting out ropes of cum – you weren’t sure what threw you off the edge, perhaps it was all of those factors combined. Your toes curled, and you could swear you saw stars, vision blurring as your body writhed under San’s, clawing at his back while he helped you ride out your high.

Your legs didn't stop spasming even after San plopped down on his side next to you, reaching out to brush your hair off your face, his palm cupping your cheek, thumb rubbing against the flushed skin. “Are you okay?”

You blinked slowly at him, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Mmm, perfect.” You turned your body to face him, your knees shaking in the process – and San may or may not have smiled proudly at that. “You know, I would have hid your scarves a long time ago if I knew you could fuck like that.”

Your giggles vibrated between the walls as San attacked you, fingers prodding at your sides, limbs too heavy to fight him off your body.

Wooyoung peeked his head into the room, grimacing at the overbearing stuffiness. Looking around, he noticed the pile of clothes thrown into one corner, soiled towels tossed in the opposite direction. A pair of bodies slept soundly, tangled up together under the thick comforter, San's soft snores breaking through the stillness in the room.

Wooyoung’s hand reached up to cover his mouth, stifling a squeaky laugh as the realization hit him.

“Holy shit, they actually did it.”

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