#just wanted to put something soft and fluffy out there to make everyone feel less sad abt the lack of scenes atm lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beefboyandbabygirl · 11 months

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

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

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

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

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

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

wordcount: 10.0k

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

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.

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

What do normal people do when they feel this bad?

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

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

There’s never anyone at the door. _____________________________

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

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

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

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

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

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard.

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back.

“Morning.”

“M-”

Wait a minute.

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice to meet you too, Y/n.”

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

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

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

This is not new.

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Y/n?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

“Uh-”

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

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

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

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

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

You feel like shit. _____________________________

Why is no one else cursed?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He leaves.

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

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

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

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard.

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back.

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

“Morning, Wonwoo.”

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

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

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

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

“My favorite woman in accounting!”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s great-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wonwoo’s eyebrows raise. “Boyfriend?”

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

A pause.

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

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

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

This would be torture. _____________________________

It is not torture.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-Wonwoo, you don’t have to-”

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

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

Eventually, he lets you go.

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

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

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

“I, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Wha-”

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

“Cured?”

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

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

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

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

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

“We can just hug if you-”

You feel bold.

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

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

What had Wonwoo been talking about? Touch-starved?

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

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

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

His hands run up and down your sides.

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

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

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

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

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

“Wonwoo,” you pip.

“Mhm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He does take care of you.

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re almost done.”

“Mhm.”

“I can’t believe we’re almost done!”

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

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

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

A pause. He tilts his head.

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

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

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

“We’re not done.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He breathes out unsteadily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I take off your clothes, pretty?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We don’t have to-”

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

“It’s just if you were too tired..-”

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

“Okay. C’mere then.”

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

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

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

“Come ride me, baby.”

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

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

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

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

“Can I put it in?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re so pretty, baby.”

“Your tits are so perfect, shit.”

“Pretty girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You catch your breaths.

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

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

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

“Am getting your dick out of me?”

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

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

He tilts his head teasingly.

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

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

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stararch4ngelqueen · 7 months

Note

Self indulgent but … thanksgiving w a gf who loves the holidays but doesn’t have family or friends to spend them with ?

This is really small and super quick, I hope you enjoy it! I do hope you have a wonderful day! (Also went ahead and incorporated two things I made today just because my mind is too lazy to think of anything else. If you don’t like them, womp womp/jk Pretend Gotham War dosent exist)

—

Time written - 8:09 p.m

—

“You sure I’m not invading in on their celebration?” You vocalize your concern for about the fiftieth time after smoothing out your final layer of fluffy, whipped concoction for your dessert dish.

“If anything, Alfred will appreciate one less dessert to make.” Jason responds, casually leaning across the countertop across from you, watching you work your magic on making one of your miracle dishes. While you didn’t necessarily have to bring a dessert, you insisted as a show of good faith.

“It’ll give the old man a reason to sit down for once,” Jason adds, referring to Alfred’s insistence upon waiting by everyone until they got full plates and thoroughly enjoyed a majority of their meals.

You kept asking the same question, just with different rephrasing of words. You were nervous, Jason could see that by the way you smoothed the silicone spatula over the top of your dessert for the tenth time, insisting perfection on something that already tasted heavenly.

Jason would know. He’s always your designated taste tester.

You went above and beyond with everything you did; Making your own whipped cream, using Madagascar vanilla beans, making your own pudding base from scratch.

“Babe.”

“Hm?” You respond with a concentrated stare on your dish.

“Look at me real quick.”

You spare a short glance up at him, putting up a sweet front of a smile. “What? I’m almost done, Jay.”

“I know,” Jason curts. “I’m sure they’ll love it.”

You nod, swallowing before focusing again on the top of your dish. You picked up the recipe from an online blog article about three years ago; an upgrade on a traditional banana pudding using heavy cream and expensive flavoring, the dessert reeking of pure holiday that had to be shared with the rest of the world.

“Are you sure this looks okay?” You ask, feeling like the top of the dessert needed a lot more than wafer cookies and bananas. Nuts? Caramel drizzle?

“It looks great,” Jason insists, approaching your side of the counter, settling his hand along your hip. “Scratch that. It looks delicious, incredible, mouthwatering. All the good words, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but smile, your cheeks warming with his compliments. Raising your whipped cream spoon to his mouth, you tap his bottom lip before giving him a kiss, hearing his muffled chuckle shortly after.

“Decadent,” He adds, licking his bottom lip of any remaining, perfectly sweet cream. “Perfect. Believe me, Dick and Alfred will never see any banana pudding the same way again.”

You could only hope so, giving him another smile. You liked making this dish, bringing it to your work during little dinner parties. The loudest compliment was a dish scraped empty, yet no one ever asked for the recipe. No one wondered who made it, no one really asked.

“You sure it looks perfect?” Again, your doubts can’t help but have you repeat your broken vinyl record. “I want it to be perfect.”

“It is perfect,” Jason gently reassures with firm sentiment, giving your cheek a soft squeeze. You set your mind to something, you keep at it until you’re perfectly satisfied. As stubborn as it makes you, you always try above your best.

This was your first official gathering with the entirety of Jason’s family. It wasn’t your first, as you’ve been over a few times before for pizza and burgers for movie nights, but never with every single Bat related member at a large, ornately decorated table in an extravagant dining room.

Especially, never with Bruce. Not until tonight, where they’d have a little private event to themselves at the manor. A rare occasion where masks and secret identities weren’t needed. Sometimes, criminal behaviors didn’t allow them a break, so this was truly a treat.

Dick could be himself, fussing over preferences of pumpkin and sweet potato to an annoyed Tim. Babs would scoff her amusement while recording them to show off during Christmas, and the rest would gawk or scoff, chatting amongst themselves or listening in on such a boisterous conversation.

This time, the special guest would be you; the girl Red Hood was sweet on long before you knew his name, becoming the sole guardian of every important identity of the Wayne family.

“Trust me. They invited you, it’ll just be us. It was a big vote with no one opposing.”

Those words brought a more comforting, genuine smile to your face, one Jason could tell was more truthful. Holidays were joyfully dreadful to spend alone in an empty home, the promise of a manor full of friendly faces happy to see you, happy to spend time with you and incorporate you into a tradition you desperately craved was a godsend. It felt too good to be true.

The best part of it all was how much Jason understood. He didn’t celebrate these kinds of holidays when he was a child. No foster family, or even his own mother, could spare enough money to provide grand meals and hours of spending time with people you care for.

It took him a long time to get used to it, he wanted that for you as well. You deserved it after all, they all liked you in their own unique way.

“I’m sure a solid nine out of ten attendants will enjoy those sugar cookie martinis,” Jason murmurs while adjusting a few strands of your hair, reminding you of the one underage family member that ‘tolerated’ your presence.

“Do they got a full stock of vanilla vodka?”

“Course they do. Personally know Bruce has a ton of amaretto.”

“‘Personally?’”

“All those bottles for our dates, babe. Grabbed them all from somewhere.”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #dc jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd dc

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whatwouldsylwrite · 1 year

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A lil thought for ya: reader getting Abby flowers to congratulate her on winning a hockey game and Abby getting all emotional because she's never gotten flowers before and it makes her feel all special and cared for by her sweet lil gf.

They're super domestic and fluffy in this <3 I'm sorry it took so long, but it just fitted so perfectly after the last chapter because of course reader'd want to do something nice for abby for her first post-recovery game

Abby was finally back on ice after a month of recovery. Her ankle still hurt a little, but she was so eager to be back she sometimes overworked herself - Abby wanted to be in the best form possible before she'd go on ice. It obviously resulted in restless evenings when you'd have to give her painkillers and make her put the brace back so her ankle would rest in a proper position.

Somewhere inside Abby expected you to treat her like a child and scold her, but you never told her off, not taking away her responsibility for her own health. It felt good to have a partner who knew the line between care and patronising.

Today was going to be challenging, their opponents were one of the strongest teams in the tournament, and Abby was nervous.

"Fuck. I can't fucking-" Abby swore as she was looking for her socks.

"What are you looking for?" You asked from the kitchen where you were drinking tea. It was Saturday, and you got to wake up later than Abby who had a morning practice before the game.

"The blue socks. Oh for fuck's sake." Abby was frustrated, and you picked up on it, immediately leaving your tea and coming to Abby.

"Hey. You need to take a breath." You held her hands, stopping her from any movement to bring her back. "In and out, come on."

Abby closed her eyes and took a deep breath, calming herself down. She was spiralling and she needed to stop it.

"I'll look for your blue socks and you go finish my tea, okay?"

Abby nodded and went to the kitchen, still taking some deep breaths: she was getting too worked up. Abby was scared of fucking up today, and it was driving her crazy. She sipped your tea, making herself slow down and just vibe while you were looking for her socks. Abby was sure they were in some obvious place, but her mind just couldn't register them.

You came back, holding not only her blue socks but also a hairbrush.

"I'll do your hair. Sit."

"What would I do without you?" Abby asked, genuinely thankful as she sat down on a chair, giving you all the control over her hair. If Abby did her hair herself she'd probably get frustrated again with how imperfect it'd look, but it was you doing it so it couldn't be imperfect by design.

"Spiral, lash out on someone and then slam a lot of people into the boards." You shrugged playfully as you braided her hair.

"Oh fuck you." Abby laughed and you laughed too, kissing her head.

"It's the first game, you're nervous, of course your head is not in the right place. But I know you'll kick their asses and win tonight. I've seen you practise, you're going to be magnificent."

Abby pretended she didn't blush from your words, but it warmed her heart. Your support meant a lot to her, and knowing you had her back made her feel safe and calm.

Eric can scream and get punched in the face afterwards, but as long as Abby knew she'd come back to your gentle embrace and soft kisses, she could care less.

The practice was going well and Abby felt her anxiety going away and letting her competitiveness take hold. She felt powerful, her confidence coming back. Abby was the strongest player in the whole fucking tournament and she was going to prove it. They were going to win and she'd show everyone that the injury wasn't holding her back and she'd still kick everyone's asses even with a weak ankle.

Boys felt confident too, hyped up as they skated to their positions for the puck drop. Abby quickly looked at the benches to find you and you waved and smiled at her, showing thumbs up. Oh, Abby was definitely going to win when her cutest number one fan was rooting for her.

The puck dropped and Abby skated immediately, taking it away from her opponents. She felt ruthless and dangerous, not letting anyone get in her way. Abby definitely ignored the pain in her ankle, too high on adrenaline, as she scored again and again. She felt fucking all-powerful, like she could do anything right now.

"What the fuck, Abby? Are you on fucking drugs today?" Manny said during the first break, laughing, surprised how well Abby was playing.

"(Y/n) is right there man, I can't lose today." Abby chuckled and chugged her water. "She braided my hair so I'm like. Blessed. You know what I mean?"

"Like you have a lucky charm?" Manny helped.

"Yeah." Abby smiled, refusing to get embarrassed of how sappy she was.

"You're a fucking simp, Anderson."

"I fucking am." Abby agreed and looked in your direction.

You were in her hoodie (your hoodie now, based on how often you wore it), you hair in a braided halo and you were looking back at her, smiling. Abby felt herself melt and turn into a soft pile of goo, your cute smile and cute up-do just evaporating her "don't fuck with me or I'll kill you" vibe.

"Oh god do I look the same when I look at my girl?" Manny asked with disgust as he watched Abby drool in your direction.

"You look worse." Abby's attitude came back and she was cool and stoic and hot again. "Remember when I had to close your mouth that one time when your weather girl wore a mini skirt?"

Manny flipped her and they went back on ice, prepared to tear their opponents to shreds. The game was challenging and it wasn't easy to score, Abby got body checked a few times, but she enjoyed the game so much she thought they should ask their rival team for a friendly match after, because they were actually good.

The final horn rang, ending the game with 4:3 and Abby smirked, smug, as she skated back to her team. They won. The fucking won. Take that, Eric, Abby was the best even while she was still recovering. They shook hands with their opponents, thanked them for a game - and today thanks were actually genuine - and went to the players' benches to rest a little and go home.

Abby took her helmet off as she was stopping before the exit and when she lifted her head back, she noticed you standing right at the exit, congratulating her teammates, hugging Manny. Abby rushed to you, excited, hugging you right away and lifting you up so she could kiss you. She knew she was cold, but she also knew you didn't mind.

"Congratulations." You whispered in her mouth with a sweet smile on your face, your eyes twinkling with love. "You were glorious."

"It's because you're my good luck charm." You giggled and blushed, and Abby just stared at you.

"Stop I'll literally barf." Ellie said behind your back and Abby let you go to hug Ellie next. "You're a fucking beast, Anderson."

"Thanks." Abby chuckled. "We're going to celebrate tonight. You coming?"

"You know I do." Ellie smirked and left you two alone as boys already went to the lockers.

"I've got something for you." You said and quickly grabbed something from the bench. "Congratulations on the win."

Abby stared at your hands, her chest suddenly tight with emotions. You held a big colourful bouquet to her, filled with different flowers Abby probably didn't even know the names of. Abby took them carefully, still staring at them, absolutely dumbfounded.

"Thank you." Abby said in a soft voice, getting shy.

The last time someone got her flowers was when she was a child and was winning her first games: her father always made sure to give her flowers. Her previous partners just assumed that if she was more dominant it meant she didn't want this kind of attention, and it wasn't like she gave it too much thought, not really understanding the whole idea of flower giving.

But right now Abby felt fucking butterflies in her stomach as she shyly smelled the bouquet, stealing glances at you. She felt giddy and couldn't control her smile even if she tried to suppress it, embarrassed by how plainly happy the flowers made her feel. Now Abby understood what you meant when you said she made you feel like a lady, because right now Abby felt like a fucking princess in front of her knight. You smiled at her, pleased, and Abby blushed more.

"They're very pretty." Abby murmured as she looked over the bouquet.

You smiled and Abby smiled back, her cheeks red, and you watched how delighted she was with your little gift, absolutely enamoured with her.

"Do you want me to take them so you can change?" You asked, but for some reason you knew she didn't.

"No." Abby said quickly and held the flowers closer to herself just as you did on your first date, protecting them.

"You're so cute." You chuckled and kissed Abby on the cheek.

"I'm not." Abby said, but you weren't convinced when she stood there, 6 feet of pure muscle and strength, holding a bouquet so gently like it could break, her cheeks pink, looking like a school girl. It was just so endearing and you kissed her again, basking in her.

Abby giggled when your prepped her face with little kisses and glanced at you bashfully, so in love with you she felt like she could explode right there.

"Yes, you are." You said teasingly and Abby just huffed at you. "I like it. I'll give flowers every day if it means you'll look so happy." You murmured as you stroke Abby's jaw on both sides and she rolled her eyes affectionately, still trying to appear cool and confident.

"Maybe every week?" Abby said playfully, but you caught on it.

"Every week then."

And you were true to your promise.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #abby tlou #hockey!abby

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veala2 · 8 months

Text

“ꜰᴀᴠᴏᴜʀɪᴛᴇ.”

fluff prompt: “I thought you knew that you’ve always been my favourite.”

SYNOPSIS - After joining the Whitebeard pirates, you start to lose the sense of belonging you once had, only thinking of yourself as the “non- favourite.” Ace quickly reminds you something you should have realized sooner than later.

CW - gn!reader, could be either seen as romantic or platonic, up to you, angst but ends up fluffy as hell.

A/N - works killing me, but I managed to find the time to make this. I have a soft spot for writing Ace because he’s so damn cute!

“Y’know, I think the old man is going easy on us.”

The wind blew gently through the air of the hilltops that you’ve been travelling through with your pirate partner, 2nd commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, Ace. It had been about a year since the two of you met, after joining Whitebeard at his request.

The two of you often got sent on missions where you defeat certain pests that Whitebeard wants to “shut up”, as he would say.

In turn with you helping him in battle (and other things where he might be challenged), he trains you to be stronger and defend yourself in the heat of battle. It’s a win- win!

Despite how smoothly your life has been going so far, you’ve been starting to feel… out of place, compared to your fellow crew members. They never treated you poorly or made you feel less than, oh no! Everybody was kind and caring.

But, when you come back to the crew laughing and drinking with Pops or when Marco would joke that Pops had favourite kids, your stomach unintentionally drops. Making you question yourself.

Was it insecurity? Or did everyone not care for you?

Anyways, after having defeated a particularly easy opponent, you and Ace decided to take the long, nice way back to where your mini- ship had docked. Taking in the scenic route.

“He’s just mad. Probably ‘cause you kept making those ancient jokes last week.”

You said, kicking a lone rock on the path you took. He heartily laughed, throwing his head back.

“Ah, but it was funny! Everyone laughed, including him. Besides, I’m his favourite, he won’t stay mad forever. Y’know?” He smirked, turning his head towards you.

Despite his antics, you couldn’t help but agree. Sure, the emperor loves all his children the same, but there was something about Ace that made him treat him differently. Maybe it was that shiny, raven hair or devil- may-care smile, you jokingly thought. Either way, having favourites was not a new topic.

“Yeah, none of us are as lucky as you, Portgas. Being the favourite must be nice.” you confessed.

His usual carefree smile turned into a frown, noticing your now sad face. He stepped in front of you, placing a hand on your shoulder, stopping you and forcing you to look up into his warm eyes.

“Hey, you know that it was just a joke, right? The old man hates and loves us equally.” He chuckled, trying to make your face break. Which it did.

“I know. Just… kind of wouldn’t mind being someone’s preference.” You said, exasperated. Continuing to trek down the path. Ace scoffed, catching up to you.

“Y/N, you act as if you aren’t my favourite!” He exclaims, a bit annoyed.

You paused, stopping in your tracks. Turning to him with a quizzical yet intrigued expression. Almost like you trying and wanting to believe him.

“No! Give me a break, Ace, you're just saying that.”

He’s taken aback. Both with your words and the glossy look starting to form in your eyes. He looked at you like a kicked puppy, and like a frustrated toddler trying to explain his emotions.

“I’m serious! I thought you knew that you’ve always been my favourite person.” His voice is only a decimal short of yelling, as he puts his hand up in the air.

“You’re up here with my brother, I swear! There’s a reason why I didn’t reject Pop’s telling me you have to come on missions too, and that’s because I enjoy your company and you. You’re kind, thoughtful and smart, that’s why he paired his idiot son with you,” He says, pointing to himself.

“Look, what I’m trying to say is: everybody goes lower ‘cause you're my favourite, and there’s no other explanation. I’ve always cared about you and forever wi-“

A swift wrapping of your arms around his body shuts him up. You squeeze tightly, as to disguise your overcome emotions. He doesn’t say anything, simply reciprocating the hug. Letting you enjoy his warmth.

“… Thanks, Ace…” You whispered, not being able to get anything else out. He welcomed you, patting your back gently but firmly.

“Don’t mention it. C’mon, I’ll give you a ride back. My favourite person deserves it after kicking ass today.” He laughs, giving a toothy grin. With that, he kneels down in front of you. Arms reaching behind him to hold you in place. You blushed, not used to the sudden act of affection the man was displaying.

“Oh, by the way,” He starts, adjusting to you on his back, “Don’t think we all don’t think the same. Trust me, Marco and Izou will hound me if you get a single scratch, they always worry about you. Especially Pops.”

The sinking feeling that had once been had changed into warmth. Ace’s kind warmth.

“Thanks, Ace. Just so you know, you’re my favourite, too.”

#not my best work #but its something!#one piece x reader #op x reader #one piece x you #ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace fluff #portgas ace x you

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actual-changeling · 1 year

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Focusing a bit more on their ptsd lately because I want to and I can, this is set a few weeks after they got to Jackson so still pretty early on. Completely fluffy though, promise!

There is nothing worse than being alone in a crowd with no one to have your back.

Ellie's hypervigilance is in absolute overdrive after Silver Lake whenever she isn't too dissociated to perceive anything at all, and leaving the house becomes a choice between constantly looking around and driving herself half insane trying to look for something, anything dangerous and gritting her teeth and pushing through it while her brain screams at her that the worst things imaginable are seconds away from happening.

Both options are terrible, both leave her shaking and on edge, and any loud or unexpected noise makes her jump even when it is three streets down and completely unrelated to her. Going outside isn't safe, isn't fun, so she doesn't, and she is acutely aware that it's a problem she will need to solve one day, but for now her skin is stretched less tightly over her bones and the back of her neck only gives her the occasional jolt of paranoid electricity.

It doesn't even fully occur to ask someone for help when there is a movie at the theater she really wants to see that night, she thinks about it all day with a heaviness in her heart that almost has her put on her shoes and go anyway, but then the bell ringing for lunch has her almost falling out of her chair and she settles with the sour taste of defeat on her tongue. She would ask Joel to go with her, but they both know he is just as jumpy as she is, especially with her around in a closed space, and yeah it's a problem, but for now it is what it is, and she doesn't ask.

However, while she forgot about the obvious solution, Joel didn't.

That evening, Tommy comes over, which in by itself isn't surprising, that man is more at their house than at his sometimes, but he doesn't take off his shoes like he always does and waits for them in the hallway instead. She leans against his side in the greeting half-hug they tend to do, his arms around her shoulders, and the weight of it in her neck does the same thing Joel's hugs do - they absorb the panic and let it run through them into the ground, redirecting the lightning jumping across her skin. Ellie looks up at him and her face lights up before Tommy even gets the words out, putting two and two together and vibrating with excitement so bright she can't even feel stupid for not thinking about it herself.

"Ready for movie night?"

"Are you sure?"

Asking him that feels like she is stomping on a christmas present before even opening it, but her fingers are twisting in her shirt and joy is a warm, yellow sun in her chest, and she needs him to wants this as much as she does or she will feel bad for dragging him along. His hand settles on the back of her head and her gaze flicks between him and Joel, who is watching her and her only.

"Are you kidding me? Alien? Of course I'm gonna go see it, it's one of the best fucking movies ever."

There is a few seconds of silence and dizziness shoots straight into her head when she forgets to breathe, but then she falls forward and squeezes Tommy so tightly she can hear the air rushing out of him before letting go to put on her shoes. She is so focused on getting there before everyone else so they can get the best spots, planning out the quickest path to the building (although there really aren't that many options, more like three and a half possible routes), she only realizes Joel is shrugging on his jacket too when she turns to say her goodbye for the next few hours. There's a familiar tightness in his jaw, and she is pretty sure there's at least a knife somewhere on him, but his eyes are soft and she realizes that Tommy isn't just an additional anchor of security for her.

Paranoia grows all over her skin, a deep-seated itch she can never scratch enough, but Joel is right next to her and she can hear Tommy's footsteps behind her, and it is enough to keep it subdued enough for her to handle. They all silently come to the agreement to sit near the side rather than in the center, neither of them fully comfortable with being surrounded by people like that, and having space on one side, Joel on the other, and Tommy behind her makes it easy to forget about everyone else once the movie starts.

She jumps when someone accidentally kicks over a chair, and Joel gently squeezes her hand whenever she crushes his during the few times her brain tries to convince her everyone in the room is out to kill her, but they all make it through the next few hours without chewing on their panic the entire time. Tommy's quiet comments from behind her make up half the fun, and on the walk back, she paces circles around them while talking a mile a minute about a conflicting mess of a thoughts she cannot sort through in her excitement; Joel watches her just like he has been doing the entire night, and she doubts he heard a single line from the movie. The tension in his jaw has dissipated, though, and her lungs expand without resistance.

They stop right between their two homes, and for the first time since arriving in Jackson, Ellie feels almost sad to go back inside again. There's a moment of silence before she wraps herself around Tommy in another hug, her thank you a muffled whisper against his chest before she leans away, and it is hard to tell whether she is thanking him for having her back or for being family.

"Any time, sweetheart."

Both, she decides, and they all know without having to say a single word.

There is nothing worse than being alone in a crowd, but she is no longer just by herself, and although she forgets sometimes, there will always be someone to have her back now.

#alex writes tlou #the last of us #tlou #joel and ellie #ellie and tommy #miller family #ellie williams #joel miller #tommy miller #fanfic #yeah yeah this got longer than i intended same spiel as always #my brain is still being mean to me so this is both warm up and distraction #also i see ur asks i promise i just gotta find the right prompt/words in my head because i physically cannot just write something #without being happy with it #tommy loves alien and sci fi movies btw joel does NOT #but joel loves ellie and he loves seeing her happy so that is his entertainment for the night #also hypervigilance is a bitch and i wish i could logic it away but alas that is not possible #ellie and joel try their best though and tommy is like. the most well adjusted person in that family after maria and even he is still fucke #family nights ptsd edition they're all fucked up in some way but they have each other so it's okay

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abiiors · 1 year

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being on tour with them for ur birthday and there’s a show that day so everyone’s busy but ross goes out of his way to still make it special like maybe u go to breakfast just the two of u or wake up extra early to walk around whatever city in the world your in or just something. and so it’s nothing crazy or over the top romantic but he makes sure u feel appreciated and loved :)) (and maybe he tells matty to have the crowd shout happy birthday or something and embarrass u)

ps happy bday!!

god this is so adorableeee! also thank you 🥺💕

anyway yes, you know your birthday this year is going to be so hectic with all the travelling and the show that's happening on the day itself so you don't have much hopes of it being a Whole Big Deal. and you're okay with it because ross makes all 365 days of the year so special for you that having less than usual attention on your birthday this year is not something that you're upset about. plus you already are travelling the world with him, surrounded by your friends so it's not like the day will totally suck anyway. but then you mention this to him in passing and he is like OH HELL NO! he will hear absolutely nothing about you having a birthday that is less than stellar and even when you try to convince him that it's okay, you're happy that you're here in japan (not the canon timeline ik but that's the place i want) with him and that's good enough, he's like 'absolutely not! what do you mean good enough?? you need the best!' and you roll your eyes at him but you also can't stop the smile that makes its way onto your face.

anyway at the stroke of midnight, there's a ruckus outside your hotel room and ross looks at you with a very big grin on his face. you almost gently scold him for making them stay up so late when they've got a show but he is too busy picking you up and spinning you in a circle while singing happy birthday before another impatient knock sounds at the door. and as soon as ross opens the door, in comes matty with a soft sleepy smile on his face, rubbing his eyes a bit. followed by george carrying a beautiful cake. followed by adam carrying a few bags of presents. and you instantly want to burst into tears at how they still found the time for this even when everything is so chaotic but everyone gives you a lil hug and sings happy birthday while you blow out the candles and cut the cake (matty definitely goes full singer, ross asks if he should pull out his bass, george has already started finger drumming on the table while hann plays air guitar) anyway you fuck around for like 20 minutes, opening the presents and eating cake and drinking just a bit of wine/champagne before you kick them out because 1) they need rest and 2) you need ross (👀👀)

SO ANYWAY the morning after you're there lying content, half naked and still half asleep in his arms, and he keeps kissing your face every two seconds telling you how much he loves you until both your stomachs start growling and it's inevitably time to head out. you're under the impression that you're just grabbing breakfast at the hotel restaurant but he's practically bouncing on his heels announcing that he saw the cutest cafe and he wants to take you there so of course you quickly hop into the shower and put on your super cute outfit of the day before you leave the hotel, hand in hand just leisurely walking the streets and pointing at new things, laughing about silly stuff etc until you reach the cafe. it is super cute! just like he said with adorable pink and white furniture and ross, the giant that he is, dwarfs the chair which you find hilarious and makes you launch into a 2 minute laughing fit while he tries to sit there with a straight face. anyway once you've calmed down, you both stuff your faces with very VERY fluffy pancakes and a bunch of other things. since you're so full, you decide to keep on walking and stroll around for a bit until it comes up to around 11 at which point you know you need to get back to the hotel because the guys need to leave soon for sound checks and other pre-show prep. ross is all 'sorry i am going to have to leave you now because of everything else :(' and he genuinely feels bad for not being able to shower you with attention all day long but you shut him up with a kiss before telling him that being here with him is more than enough and that you simply can't wait to dress up and go watch the show. also you've already made plans to go out for a nice dinner the next day when they don't have a show. but he's still like 'your birthday's not tomorrow, it's today!! and i can't believe you're gonna spend it here alone till the show starts :((' and you have to tell him at least three times that you really do want to have a nice relaxing day and that you have a spa appointment booked at the hotel before he reluctantly leaves.

as evening approaches, you excitedly get ready and text him when you're about to leave and he responds instantly with a 'can't wait for tonight. love you xx' which is a bit suspicious but you figure he's running around, only half-focused on the text. anyway you're engulfed in a massive hug as soon as you get there followed by him asking you to give him a twirl so he can properly see what you're wearing. and he asks all about your day, listening intently while cuddling you close and being sickeningly sweet which you absolutely bask in before it's time for them to go on stage. as always they are all simply electric! and you don't even realise how easily time flies until it's literally right before their last song before matty starts speaking into the mic. at first you think it's just a part of the show so you take this time to drool over your man looking sweaty and undone until you hear the words "birthday" and "special friend" in one sentence and snap your attention back to matty who's looking at you sitting at the side of the stage. even ross has a wide cheeky grin on his face as the first notes of the crowd singing happy birthday fall on your ears. it's weirdly touching because they can't even see you and yet you hear the love in their voice so you mouth a 'thank you' at matty who extends it to the crowd and look at ross just in time to see him blowing you a sneaky lil kiss and laughing at your flaming face <3

#asks #birthday asks #the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross macdonald x reader #ross x reader #ross macdonald fanfic #ross x you #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald x you #the 1975 fluff #fluff fic

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a-s-levynn · 1 month

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Happy little trees

aka the only way i know how to draw trees, and even that is thanks to Bob Ross

@alexghost07 I hope this helps! ♥

Always click for better quality, tumblr is not friendly to most image ratios !

Most people (including myself originally) are simply overthinking it. Especially if you are working with a medium that has one colour on a spectrum. For example a graphite pencil. Like i do.

These are so simple that it just.. for me it always felt like cheating almost. It cannot be this easy can it? Well, it is.

For me what helped is that now i never draw them with anything harden than a 2B pencil and very rarely softer than a 4B but there is no rules for these things. Do what feels right and comfortable for you and your desired end result.

And it's not that it would not be doable with a B or HB or even an H pencil, i just prefer the softer side. Easier to control and has an inherent softness that lends itself great to foliage if you are not aiming for high detail. At least for me.

But even between 2B and 2B are differences depending on the quality of the graphite. And a 4B for comparison.

And the scanned version to actually see the differences:

Not a huge difference but everyone has preferences or ideas what goes better with the given drawing or look they try to achieve.

You can also play with the darkness, naturally, to make it even more silhouette than tree:

But maybe the biggest help for me was to switch pencil hold for this. Usually i hold my pencils and pens either like this, this or this:

It is dependent if my hand is hurting/cramping or the area i'm drawing or how i want my lines to fall, how defined or blended shading i want, or to avoid smudgeing if i'm too lazy to get something to put under my hand etc.

But for the trees i am holding it like so:

I do this for these trees or foliage of similar kinds. For bushes and other kinds of trees i just make the trunks a bit more gnarly and the crowns more fluffy in a cloud esque way, and let everything blend together. The viewer's brain fills out most of it anyway.

The goal is for me to evoke foliage just enough to be translated and recognized as for examople: a road between bushes and trees. (instead of beeing just random scribbles on paper)

(I also made the farther ones lighter because as you look towards the horizon in larger expanses, the further away things are, the lighter and less defined they seem.)

And the obligatory video, just so you can actually see what i'm talking about here. Until 2:40 it is real time, so you can see at the actual speed how i am doing these. The rest of the video is about x5.2 speed.

Originally it was almost 8 minute so let's say this little scene took about 10 minutes altogether. It definitely looks like a 10 minute sketch but i love this type of stuff. It's low effort and still looks good.

This is with a single 4B pencil and a white pencil thingie i talked about before.

(No sounds on the video besides the pencil on the paper. Also shout out to my goblet, replacing the RedBull can from last time. ✌🏻)

The main thing is that i try to avoid it to be too symmetrical but still keeping a level of semi-symmetry because pine trees do have a natural symmetry.

And the propeerly scanned end results:

I really hope it helps, because these are very fun to draw and far more easier than people might originally think.

Thank you again if you read this far, happy creating! I hope your day is kind to you. ♥

#please there is no need to call me sensei i don't deserve it i'm but a mere dabbler in the arts and crafts for funsies T___T♥#levynn tries to draw #trees #pine tree

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yikes-00 · 1 year

Note

number 9 for hangster, please and thank you 💙

Nina, my love. I love you and I hope you enjoy this✨ so much love for you💕

WC: I’m going to stop putting this, know it’s long

tags: mentions of loss of virginity, bottom jake, top Bradley, first time together, soft/fluffy, established relationship

AN: hello, wrote this half asleep in an airport. There’s prob mistakes and one day I’ll go through and edit. Much love and peace. Hope everyone is having a good day✨💕

“I think I’m ready for this.”

Bradley chokes on the beer that he’s currently drinking. The football game is playing in the background and he twists his neck to find Jake standing in their living room in his boxers.

“Like-“

“Sex, Bradshaw,” Jake says tartly, “like-“

Bradley waves his hand. He blindly reaches for the remote and turns off the game. Jake’s jaw is tight and Bradley stands up and faces him.

“I’m not fucking you if you think I want it,” Bradley says roughly. His heart slams in his chest and Jake tilts his head to the side. “If only I want it.”

Jake’s shoulders lower and for a split second, Bradley’s heart stops beating his chest. They’ve had their fair share of bad exes. Lovers that touches burned instead of soothed. Jake had it worse. His first boyfriend cheated and ran off, leaving Jake to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart alone.

It’s why they were never friends.

Jake was never ready emotionally for something more and Bradley can’t give anything less than his whole heart. That’s why they fought, the tension between them so palpable that Bradley thought he’d explode every time Jake came near.

So they yelled, goaded and drove each other out of this world with insults and new ways to pick at the fragile bond between them. Over the years, Bradley assumed they’d break, fall apart to be lost to another thing Bradley can’t hold but they didn’t.

After the mission and a bottle of whiskey, they became friends. After four months on leave and more talking, Jake let Bradley take him out on a date.

After that, it’s been slow. They haven’t slept together. Nothing more than light petting. Bradley cupped Jake’s dick once through his sweats and Jake looked like he’d seen a ghost.

Bradley never took it personally, or tried not to at least.

But now Jake is in front of him. His green eyes wide and trusting and Bradley can’t stop his hands from shaking.

“We don’t have to,” Bradley says quietly.

Jake’s chin tilts up and his eyes narrow.

“You don’t want me?”

It’s a loaded question. A mean one with so many layers that Bradley thinks he’d get lost in them if he tried too hard to piece them together.

“I just want you to know that I love you even if we don’t have sex,” Bradley says slowly picking his words carefully, “I don’t want you to feel pressure to think you have to-“

“I want to,” Jake’s voice is firm. The hard Texas edge makes Bradley’s heart skip a beat. “I want you.”

The words are spoken so plainly that Bradley feels a flush forming on his face. It crawls over his ears and down his neck. The world narrows until it’s only Jake in his boxers standing in their living room in the afternoon sun.

“Jake-“

“I swear to god if you say one more thing that’s not “‘get on the bed” I will sleep on the couch,” Jake snaps.

His agitation seeps into his whole being and Bradley reaches forward to run his thumb over Jake’s cheek. When Bradley crossed the floor of their living room, he doesn’t know.

What he does know is that Jake is in front of him. Jake’s in front of him with wide eyes and lashes fluttering and any resolve Bradley has to do right by Jake is slowly crumbling.

“Are you sure?” Bradley asks slowly. His breath comes heavier out between his lips. Jake’s face is closer and his mouth is tilted up at the right angle that Bradley can close the gap.

Jake nods. His fingers lace through Bradley’s and he tugs gently. Bradley follows. Jake’s back strong and his head high as he leads Bradley to the room.

As soon as the door closes, Bradley presses a kiss to the back of Jake’s neck. His lips trial over the warm skin as he presses light kisses over the strong expanse of Jake’s shoulders and back. Bradley slides his hands down. His fingers hooking into the waistband and he gently tugs.

The elastic goes easy and Bradley traces the warm flesh of Jake’s ass and thighs. His hands push Jake’s boxer’s down as he sucks a small mark onto the spot behind Jake’s ear.

“How do you want this?” Bradley asks in a rough voice. His hand slides over the front of Jake’s thighs and he grasps Jake’s hard cock in his hand.

Jake tenses. His muscles tighten and Bradley pulls back.

“Jake-“

“He never- uh- he never-“ Jake breaks off. His voice soft and Bradley in that second wants to hunt the asshole down. “He never touched me-“

Bradley presses a kiss to Jake’s neck. Jake shivers and his body tightens. His cock is hard and leaking in Bradley’s grasp.

“He never touched you?” Bradley asks and Jake shakes his head.

“He never touched me like I wanted, I guess,” Jake says softly, “he usually liked me riding or on my hands and knees. I don’t-“ Jake swallows and lets out a soft noise as Bradley drags his hand up his cock lightly.

“You don’t what, baby?” Bradley asks as he drags his palm over the head of Jake’s cock.

“I don’t know what I want,” Jake says softly, “I don’t know what you want and I can’t give you what you want because I don’t know how.”

Bradley’s lips curl into a smile. He presses a kiss to Jake’s neck as he gently strokes Jake’s cock.

“On your back,” Bradley says into Jake’s ear. Jake’s body shudders and Bradley runs his hands higher, “I want to see your face as I make love to you.”

Jake whimpers. Bradley pulls back enough to let Jake walk towards the bed and to pull his clothes off. Jake pulls back the blankets and settles on his back. His head on the pillows, dirty blonde hair spread out on white sheets.

“You’re so beautiful,” Bradley says quietly. He walks over and kneels on the bed laying his body over Jake trying to block out all the bad memories. Jake’s eyes flutter. His tan skin flushes, a drop of sweat slides down Jake’s temple and Bradley presses his lips against it, collecting the taste on his tongue. “You’re so perfect.”

Jake twists under him. His face turns away and Bradley reaches down and tucks his finger under Jake’s chin and turns him so he can look into Jake’s eyes.

“I love you,” Bradley says softly, “and I want to make this good. So tell me.” Jake’s eyes widen. “Tell me what you like.” Bradley drags his fingers down Jake’s neck and chest. Jake’s breath hitches and Bradley feels his cock twitch at the sound. “Tell me what feels good.” Bradley’s thumb slides over Jake’s nipple. Jake whines out and Bradley leans down to press his lips against the sensitive flesh. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it.”

Jake’s fingers take down Bradley's back. His back arches, pressing into Bradley's body.

“Please, B,” Jake says softly, “please no more, I need you. Please, in me.”

Bradley smiles. “As you wish, princess.”

———————————-

Bradley moves slowly. His hips rock deep into Jake. Their fingers are linked together, pressing against the pillows as Bradley slides their mouths together in a kiss. Jake’s leg is wrapped tightly around Bradley's hip. Bradley holds on tightly to Jake’s waist. His fingers digging into the sweaty skin, holding him close.

Jake’s hands slide over Bradley’s back. His fingers digging in when Bradley hits the right spot inside him. His breath is a soft gasp as Bradley breaks the kiss.

“How much longer?” Bradley asks roughly. His hips roll deep in Jake, hitting his prostate. His control is worn thin. His cock hard and leaking in Jake. Splitting him open and taking Jake apart to make him his own.

“Don’t stop,” Jake says. His voice waivers and he keens as Bradley drops his weight to give Jake’s cock that’s trapped between them friction. “Never stop.”

Bradley smiles. He presses their lips together and slides his tongue into Jake’s mouth. He can last a little longer. Jake feels too good for it to stop. His body wet and tight and squeezing Bradley just enough to keep Bradley buried in him. Bradley pulls away and Jake looks wrecked. His hair a mess and eyes squeezed shut. His mouth hangs open in a silent scream of pleasure as Bradley grinds against his prostate.

“As you wish,” Bradley says as he rocks back in and presses a kiss to Jake neck over his fluttering pulse.

#hangster #sereshaw #sereshaw smut #hangster smut #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw smut #bradley rooster bradshaw #minors dni #my writing

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fallingsolonely · 2 years

Text

The Underground • Part 3 [Final]

Warning

Sexual themes

Word count - Part 3 - 8.2k

~~~~

"I'm going to grab some things" He taps my cheek lightly and then turns around. I watch him walk to a large wardrobe across the room.

He opens it and on either side of the door is an assortment of different kind of restraints.

From head to toe he is stunning.

His shoulders are broad and it's clear that he works out.

Everything about him is clean and neat. He's so masculine, but there's a touch of femininity to him in the way he does his makeup and has his nails painted. He's perfect.

If I even joke about painting my husband's nails or putting some lip gloss on him, he freaks out like it's so unnatural for him to do something like that.

He's childish. Unaware of the age we live in.

You can still be a tough guy and enjoy makeup, it doesn't make you any less masculine. If anything, it just shows how secure you are.

I see that in this man, in Harry. How secure he is with himself.

I would die for a man like that in my life.

My trance is broken by Harry closing the wardrobe.

He turns to me, in his hands are what look like handcuffs, with silver chain attached, a leather blindfold and a rod with one end being feathers and the other being a tassel of leather.

"Is this okay with you, princess?" He comes up to me and sets the items on the bed next to me.

I pick up the thing I don't recognize, I run my hand through the tassel. I have a pretty good idea of what it's used for, I'm not completely oblivious.

I set it back on the bed and then I pick up the cuffs and inspect them. They are thick leather and the inside of them are fluffy.

I've never been handcuffed before.

"If it's not, tell me" He grabs my chin and makes me look up at him.

I bite my lip and give the cuffs to him. I hold out my hands to him.

He runs his fingers through my hair and then opens the cuffs.

I watch his face as he focuses on tightening them around my wrists. He glances at me and smiles.

He wraps the small chain around his hand and pulls me forward. He leans down and kisses me. It's soft and wet, his tongue touching my lips every so often into it.

"There are many, many things I want to do to you, my darling"

He stands upright and drops the chain.

"Shuffle up on the bed for me" He says, his tone more commanding.

I listen to him and shuffle my way up the bed. The only thing on the bed was a dark red sheet.

He followed me, crawling onto the bed. He reached out and grabbed my leg, roughly pulling me down and underneath him.

I squeal a little and he laughs, kissing me.

God, does it feel good.

This man barely knows me, yet the appreciation he showed me was something I've never seen. Whether he did it to everyone or not, it still felt nice.

He pushed my cuffed hands over my head and held them there.

"Hm, I am going to blindfold you. Is that alright, sweetheart?" He kissed along my cheek to my ear.

"Not being able to see can be a little daunting, but I promise you, my love, that it makes everything I do to you, feel incredible" He pushed himself up and straddled my thighs. He reached back a bit and grabbed the strip of leather.

"Okay" I nod at him, I'm nervous. I can feel my heart pounding.

But I'm so excited. Every word, every touch that comes from him makes my stomach flutter.

"Are you nervous?" He wonders, he reaches his hand down and cups my cheek.

"A little, but I want to do it" He traces my cheek and smiles.

"Perfectly normal to be nervous, sunshine. I'll do whatever I can to make you comfortable and feel good"

He looks at me for a moment before bringing the blindfold to my eyes and fastening it tightly around my head.

"There's something about women that I can't get enough of" He says, his fingers running over my lips and down my neck.

"I'm a lover of all, but pleasing a woman such as you, my sweet Mars, is something I will never get tired of" He gets off of me and I shudder from the sudden coolness.

"Spread your legs" He orders.

I listen to him and open them. By the sound of his voice, I guess that he's at the end of the bed.

"Such a shame that you haven't been appreciated, baby" He climbs back onto the bed. He comes between my legs and I can tell he's on his knees.

"I want to play a game" He says.

I feel the tassel he brought out, being run over my stomach.

"The quiet game. I'm sure it's a game you'd be good at, considering how pathetic your husband sounds"

I bite my lip, the vulnerability of the situation, hitting me. I can't move and I can't see him. I don't know at all what he's going to do.

"Don't worry, my love, it's a simple game. All you have to do is be quiet. No matter what I do, don't make a sound. Unless, it's a safe word or anything concerning your level of comfort"

"Would you like to play?" He asks.

I shuffle a little and pull at the restraints. I'm not familiar with the state I'm in. It's nerve racking and so fucking hot at the same time.

"What happens if I make a sound?"

I jump a little when I feel a light sting against my thigh, it's not too hard but it's enough to make my skin warm up.

It's a weird sensation. Everything feels heightened.

He rubs where he hit me. I don't say anything. Not yellow, or red. I enjoyed it, the sensation. I wish I could see his face.

"And, I stop what I'm doing"

On the other end of the tassel, is a little bunch of feathers. I feel it as he runs it along my pelvis.

"I thought you wanted to prove you could make me come with your tongue?" I ask.

He chuckles and roughly lifts my legs, bending them and spreading them wider.

"Is that a hint of brattiness, Mars?"

I jump again when I feel the little strips of leather meeting my skin on the inside of my thigh. A much more sensitive area. My toes curl at the sting of it. But it's not painful, not in the sense of where I want him to stop.

"I don't need to prove anything, darling. I know what I'm capable of"

He's between my legs, his hand sliding up until it's around my throat and he's on top of me.

"Would you like to know what I do to people who question me?" His lips are at my ear and my breathing gets heavier.

He tightens his grip on my throat, not much but enough to feel it.

"Maybe" I feel the adrenaline kicking in, my confidence coming through.

He laughs, but it's quiet and controlled.

"Hm, I like you" He pushes himself back up.

"Quiet time starts now, princess" He hums to himself, his hands running up and down and the inside of my thighs.

"How good do you think my tongue is going to feel compared to how you dreamed about it, sweetheart?" He lifts my hips up until my ass his aginast his chest.

Throughout our relationship, my husband has gone down on me twice. I didn't hate him for it, but the only thing he enjoyed was penetration or me sucking his dick.

I never really got anything from it. I'm always left disappointed or unsatisfied.

It seems crazy, before we got married our sex life wasn't bad. It still wasn't the greatest, but it was something I could deal with.

Without any kind of warning, I feel it. I feel the warmth of his tongue.

It's a craving I've been wanting for so long, finally being fulfilled and for that split moment, I forget about his little game.

I moan, my body tensing at the pleasure the runs through me. As quickly as the pleasure came, it went away.

"I didn't think you'd give up that quick, sunshine" He kisses up my thigh, biting down a few times.

He drops my hips down onto the bed and I can't help but whine.

He chuckles at me, he rubs my thigh for a moment and goes quiet. In the next moment, I hear the little whoosh of the whip and feel the burning sensation of it hitting my thigh.

"Harry"

I've been dying for weeks, thinking about this man. Wanting him, more than anything. I'm finally getting the opportunity and here he is teasing me. I'm not used to it, being teased and used like this.

I'm enjoying every second of it, but god, do I ever fucking want him.

Daniel, never did anything like this with me. He never took his time in teasing me, working me up.

The only thing that Daniel does is when he wants to have sex, he'll rub my back. It's like his little signal to me that he was in the mood. But that was it. I get nothing else, just some basic ass sex.

"Did I say you could speak?"

He hits my other thigh, slightly harder than the first one.

I try not to make a sound but I want to beg him, I need to feel his mouth. I need his tongue. I need it all.

I shake my head, praying to every God I can thinkof that this man will give me what I want.

"Perhaps I should be lenient with you, baby" He roughly pushes my legs apart, his hands squeezing my legs hard.

"I'm not one to reward when I feel you don't deserve it" He lifts my hips up again and my stomach flutters.

"But am I safe to assume that your deadbeat of a husband doesn't cherish this beautiful body of yours?"

He brings me back to the position I was in before, lifted up against his chest. Both of his hands wrap around the top of my thighs and grip them tightly.

"Just a warning, my love. I enjoy playing games and if in the future, you loose. That's it. You disobey me, I will do with you what I please" His tone is dark.

It makes my stomach flip, thinking about the possibilities of this man.

"My heat breaks for you, sunshine. Not knowing what real pleasure feels like, poor thing" His lips touch my thigh and my heart flutters.

"How can you stay with a man who doesn't appreciate every inch of you?" He slides his hands towards my stomach and then back to my legs.

"For now, the game is over. My beautiful Mars, I'm going to make you scream"

I can feel his breath and I tense. I need it so fucking badly.

"Please" I beg, pulling on the restraints that hold my hands.

"Please, what?" I groan when the tip of his tongue slides against me, but only for a moment.

"I need you to make me come with your tongue" I breathe out, wishing I could fucking see him. He probably looks stunning.

"It would be a privilege, darling"

He grabs my hips and pulls my back tighter against him. I couldn't even imagine what this position must look like. Him on his knees, lifting me almost upside down. My legs spread wide in the air, gravity pushing them even further apart.

Fuck, I want to see it. I want to look up in the mirror above us and watch him.

My eyes roll back when he finally connects his tongue with my clit. This time, he doesn't pull away.

It's methodical, the way his tongue moves. I spiral into a world I've never known.

Pure fucking bliss.

He knows exactly what he's doing, his tongue teasing along each side of my clit and the gliding right over it.

"H-Harry, fuck" I feel the warmth of his mouth completely take me in and my legs start shaking. With this position it's almost impossible to close them.

I didn't think I would be this sensitive, but it's overwhelming.

Roughly he grabs me, holding me tightly and controlling the movements of my hips that I can't.

"Oh, fuck" I pull on the restraints on my hands, part of me wanting to push him away and also pull him even closer.

His whole mouth sucks me in and it's an out of body experience. I've never felt so high.

My stomach is in knots, the rhythm of his tongue doesn't falter in the slightest and it feels incredible.

"D-Don't stop" I beg.

I'm flying, I'm in a dream and I don't want it to end.

With every little suck and flick of his tongue I become more and more sensitive. My hips fight against his hold but he's strong.

Holding me in place and sucking my clit like his life depends on it.

"I-Im going to come" I cry out.

It's something I haven't experienced in so long and never like this.

I struggle against his grasp and the restraints. My stomach flips and turns, it feels like it's going to explode.

And then it does, the orgasm rips through me in the best way possible. From my toes to my head.

It's one, if not the best orgasm I have ever had.

He doesn't let go, his tongue takes me through it and beyond.

"H-Harry" I can hardly get it out, my breath is lost.

He finally changes his pace, slowing down until he finally pulls back.

"I could eat this sweet pussy all night, baby" He sets me down, humming in delight. He rubs both of my thighs with his hands.

"I've been between many thighs, baby. I think these are one of my favourites"

With the tone of his voice, I want to believe him. But I can't even begin to fathom the amount of people he's slept with.

He's a lover and I can tell by his personality that he wants me to feel special in this moment. He wants me to know that I'm the only thing on his mind. Even if he doesn't mean it, I appreciate it.

He's a fucking dream.

The way he acts as if we are the only two people on the planet, the way he's taking his time with me, complimenting me.

This mysterious man is going to take over my life.

"Tell me, darling. Has your husband ever made you come like that?" His lips are on my stomach, slowly making his way up my body.

He kisses upbetween my breasts and along my collar bone.

I'm still breathing hard, my body still reeling from the orgasm.

"Hm? Can't find your voice?" His lips are at my ear.

"Did I take your breath away, love?" He whispers, when he talks lowly his voice goes so deep.

"Oh Mars, there is something about you. It's dangerous, the way I haven't stopped thinking about this sexy girl who thought she could lie to me" He chuckles and then pushes himself up.

"We are definitely going to be good friends" He strokes my cheek and traces my lips.

He loves to talk and fuck, I could listen to his voice all night. It's smooth, he never falters or stumbles.

He reaches up and pulls the chain away, my hands dropping to the bed, still above my head.

He holds my hands down with one hand and his other grips my throat.

"I'm going to fuck you until your numb" I can feel how close his lips are to mine, I can taste his breath. It's sweet and minty.

"Please, I need it" I finally say, but my breath is still shaky.

"How would you like to take me, darling?" He bites my lip for a moment.

"Rubber or no?" He wonders.

I can't fucking imagine what it would feel like to have him fill me up. I'm on birth control, much to my husband's dismay.

I did that after one of our condoms 'broke'. I never brought it up to him but I still have the suspicion that it wasn't accidental.

I haven't told him I'm on it.

Harry pulls the blind fold off of me and smiles when my eyes meet his.

"I'm on birth control.." My voice is quiet, almost shy.

"It is entirely up to you, darling. I'm going to fuck you silly no matter what" He smirked and tapped his fingers against my cheek.

"I want you to fill me up" He smirks and grips my chin.

"What a filthy thing you are" He kissed me hard, but not for long.

"I wonder if your husband is aware his wife is such a slut" I bite my lip, my body is buzzing with excitment.

His dirty words making me ache.

I'd be whatever this man wants me to be.

I'd drop to my knees without a question for him.

"A sweet little slut, all tied up for me"

He pushes himself off of me and in a quick, rough motion he flips me onto my stomach.

"So many things I want to do to this stunning body"

He straddles the back of my thighs, his hands running from my shoulders down to the curve at the bottom of my back. He repeats this a few times.

He wrapped his fingers through my hair and lightly pulled my head back, bringing his lips to my ear.

"This is just a glimpse into my world, sweetheart" He took a deep breath and pulled my hair harder.

"I can promise you that my world is not short on pleasure, something you've desperately been looking for" He kissed my jaw and then dropped my head against the bed.

"Am I right, Mars?" He runs his hands down my back slowly.

"Tell me, honey. Tell me about how your useless husband doesn't know how to fuck you, can't make you come..." He pushed his knee between my thighs and spread my legs apart.

"I haven't even had the pleasure of fucking you yet, and I've made you come twice"

He tugs on my hair lightly.

"Speak, darling. I want to hear your voice"

He bites down on the side of my jaw but quickly moves his lips down my neck.

"Hm, you smell like strawberries and sex, darling" He chuckles a little and bites down again at the base of my neck.

"What a joy it would be to mark this pretty neck"

I felt my body go weak at the feeling of his tongue making circles on my skin.

"Perhaps, one day, when you come to the realization that you'll never want to go back when I'm done with you" His voice is soft, but the confidence is his statement is clear.

"I already don't" I'm trying to speak but I feel out of breath. I feel out of my body. It's so overwhelming. It's a mix of fear and excitment.

I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe this man walked into my life.

This perfect, sculpture of a man.

Treating me like what I want, actually matters to him.

How could I ever go back from this?

This man has given me more pleasure in the last 20 minutes than my husband has in our last 2 years of marriage.

"What was that, my love?" His voice is so fucking sexy.

Fuck, I wish I could touch him. I hate that I can't, I hate that he has my hands chained.

"He'll never be able to make me feel like this" I whisper, biting down on my lip.

"Is this a confirmation that I'll have the pleasure of seeing you again?"

I turn my head a little, his lips already coming up to my own.

"I don't want to leave" I say against his lips. He smiles.

"Oh Mars, my darling.." He kissed me between words.

"We are going to have so much fun" He smiles even more.

In a quick change of pace, he pushes me down hard against the bed.

I'm on my stomach, my hands tied together over my head.

His knee is shoved between my legs.

"Can't believe this sweet slut is going to let me fill her up"

His touches and movements began to get more rough. In a swift manuver, he grabbed my hips and lifted me up.

"Get on your knees" He demands. I listen to him, getting a little more comfy on my elbows and sticking my ass out for him.

My stomach is already in knots thinking about what this is going to feel like. I know it's going to be like heaven.

"Now, my sweet girl.." I moan softly when I feel his fingers slide up my thigh and gently rub against my clit.

"I'm going to fuck you until you can't think straight"

My toes curl at the delicate pleasure he's giving me, his fingers slowly going in circles.

He does this for a few moments and then he pulls his hand away. I prop myself up a little more on my forearms and attempt to look back at him.

He reaches up and shoves my head back down onto the bed.

"Stay" He orders, his hand on the back of my head and holding it against the mattress.

"Hm? You going to listen to me?" His voice is stern. I can hear the change in it, the focus that's in his voice.

"Answer me" I groan when he slaps my ass, the harshness of it surprising me.

I turn my head a little so he can hear me.

"Yes" I whisper, submitting to him.

"Good girl" He soothes the stinging with his hand, massaging my ass.

"I am a paitent man, darling, but oh my...Something about you, Mars" I can feel him getting into a more comfortable position.

"I just want to fuck you" One of his hands grabs my hip.

My knees weaken when I feel him guiding the tip of his cock against me.

"How bad do you want it, hm?"

My body shudders when he slides his cock against me, my stomach tightens. Just thinking about what it's going to feel like, could make me come.

I can't believe how turned on I am, it's euphoria.

"I need it, Harry. Please, I need you to fuck me"

"I like hearing that sweet voice beg, my darling" He slides his cock against me once more and then finally, he guides his cock into me.

Holy fuck.

"O-Oh god" I groan, enjoying every fucking inch of him.

I haven't had a good sexual experience in a what felt like forever.

Until I met this man, Harry.

He oozes sex, wealth and perfection. He's playful and warm. He's nothing short of a dream.

"Fuck" The deepness of his voice sends butterflies through me.

My stomach tightens as he buries himself inside of me. Both of his hands tighten on my hips and he holds me against me.

"You feel like heaven, darling" He pulls my hips back until he's almost all the way out of me.

"How does it feel so far, hm?" He wondered, but I could see, without even looking at him that he had a little smirk on his face.

Without even thinking about it, I tried to sink myself back down onto him and his grip got very firm. Stopping me.

Without a warning, he pulls me back. Sinking his cock as far as he could get it and I went breathless. It felt so fucking good.

"Huh, Mars? How does my cock feel buried inside of you?" I'm still breathless and lightheaded from the pleasure twisting in my stomach.

I whimper when he roughly grabs my hair by the roots and pulls me up hard against his chest.

"I asked you a question, sweetheart" He wraps an arm around my stomach and his other that was gripping my hair, wraps around my throat.

"I said-" He thrusts his hips, making my body weak. He's already so deep, I see stars in my vision.

"How does it feel, my love?" He grabs my chin and turns my head, his teeth grazing my lip and then along my cheek.

I've never felt so vulnerable than I do right now. Every emotion is pumping through me and pleasure is the greatest. I can't even think about words.

He does it again, pushing his hips against me and the only reason I'm still up is because of the hold he has on me.

With every movement his hips make, I moan and whine. With every second I don't speak, he pulls me harder down against him.

"Grace me with your sweet voice, darling. Or I stop fucking you and you can watch me all tied up while I stroke my cock until I come" I whine again and he chuckles, the laugh is low and menacing.

"P-Please don't stop" I whisper, I go to lift my hips but he tightens his hold around my stomach and pulls me roughly back down onto him.

I moan, the feeling of his cock hitting the furthest part of me is insane. I'm completely over come with pleasure, I don't know what to do with myself.

"Oh honey, I do love that word" He loosens his grip around my stomach and begins to slide his hand down.

"As a little treat for being such a good girl, I'm going to make you come while my cock is buried in this beautiful pussy" I feel his teeth against my neck, but not long enough to leave a mark. A graze.

God I wanted more.

He was so endearing. Every single thing about him pulled you in. It was supernatural to me, the way he reeled me in.

Its not what surrounded him, it wasn't the money or just the sex. It was just, him. His entire being reels you in, he's unreal. His personality was infectious.

I'm lost in all of it. I don't know how I got here and I never want to leave.

"Oh- god" My restrained hands reach for his, but his free one grabs my throat.

"Keep them still or they go behind your back" He whispers, his fingertips tracing down my hip until reaches between my legs.

He's so methodical, focused. He knows exactly what he's going to do.

"You feel so good on my cock, baby" His fingers make contact with my clit.

I struggle with my hands, not having much room to do anything with them. I'm trying so hard not to grab him, the pleasure is intense.

"You're shaking, darling" He laughs softly.

"Are you going to come for me again?" His fingers press down harder and he rocks me against him.

I groan, my head falling against his shoulder. I ball my hands into fists, my body twitching with pleasure as an orgasm builds.

He holds onto my throat, his grip tightening as his fingers speed up. I want to wiggle my hips, remove myself from the overwhelming pleasure, but every time I move, I feel his cock inside me and everything just heightens.

"Harry" I cry, I can't help it, I yank on his wrist.

In a swift movement, I'm pushed against the bed. In the process, he pulls out of me.

His fingers remain on my clit, his chest pressed against me.

In less than a few moments, he's thrusting his hips back into me. This time, he's in a position that gives him more room to pound into me.

"Harry- Fuck-" He finds a rhythm with his hips and its rough. His fingers on my clit make my eyes roll back and I can't stop it.

My hands are pinned underneath me. I tremble under him, an orgasm rippling through my body. His rhythm doesn't slow, he continues and my mind goes numb.

I cry with the amount of pleasure I feel.

He pulls his hand from my clit and pushes himself up onto his knees. He lifts my thighs up against his hips and then grabs mine, he doesn't stop.

Relentlessly he fucks me and it's more than euphoria, it's everything. I feel so good, I feel so fucking sexy even with the mess I'm sure I've turned into with his treatment.

He's so focused on his hips that he's quiet besides a few, quiet and breathy moans.

"Fuck"

He finally pulls out of me, but I'm not given any time to breath. He gets off the bed and then grabs my leg, making me squeal as he pulled me to him and onto my back.

"Look at you all fucked, princess" He stands over me, his hands running up my thighs and then gripping them hard.

I look up at him, his hair is disheveled and he's covered in a layer of sweat.

Still, he is perfect.

He's glowing.

He lifts my hips up and teasingly guides his cock along me.

I groan and tighten my thighs around him.

"Hm, I don't know if I wanna share you, love. Want this perfectly stunning body to myself" He sinks into me slowly, holding me tight against him when he fills me up.

"Shit" He rolls my hips up and down and I'm loud again. It just feels so good.

"Such a pretty moan, baby. You can be as loud as you want" He drops my hips against the bed.

He grabs the chain that's attached to my restraints and pulls me up.

"I knew it the moment I saw you, baby" He grabs my chin and traces my lip with his thumb.

"This nervous looking thing, sitting by herself. Trying to fit in" He chuckled.

"This is a place for those who don't, a safe place for those looking for more. People like you, princess"

I wonder what it meant for him. This man who's presence just demands attention.

What is this place to him?

"People like me" He strokes my cheek and smiles at me.

He leans down and kisses me, it's so hot. His tongue is dripping like honey, It's breathtaking.

"This pretty mouth belongs to me for the night, princess" He bites my lip and then pulls back.

"I want it around my cock" He yanks on the chain and pulls me off the bed onto my knees.

His hands grips the back of my head and without a word he guides my mouth towards his cock.

I open up and try to hide my smile when his hold gets tighter and he groans.

Everything in me wants to please him, to show him what I'm capable of, but he has complete control over me.

"Fuck, Mars" He pushes himself until I gag and then pulls himself out until his tip his against my lips. I admire his cock, he's hard as rock.

His tip is glowing and I just want to suck it until it explodes.

I stick my tongue out and lick his tip.

He chuckles and pulls my head back.

"You love sucking my cock, hm?" I smile and nod at him.

"I want to suck it until you come" I say, licking my lips.

"Oh yeah?" He bit his lip and looked down at me intensely.

"Yeah" I respond, starring at him with a shy smile.

He hums and pulls me up to my feet.

"I can picture just how sexy you'd look, painted in my come" He pulls me onto my toes and brushes his lips over mine.

"Perhaps, in our next meeting" His nose brushes against mine and it's sweet.

It's a level of tenderness that I appreciate, despite the situation we are in.

"For now, my love. I want to hear those pretty little cries while I fuck you"

He shoves me onto the bed and he doesn't waste any time in sliding his hands under my thighs and lifting me up until his mouth could attach my clit.

I cried out, not expecting to feel his warm tongue again.

He slides his tongue up and down my clit for just a few moments before dropping me back down onto the bed.

"I want to tie you down to the bed and play with this pussy all night, make you come over and over again with my tongue and fingers. Maybe some other toys" He smirks down at me.

"But the thought of sending you home full of my cum-" He smirks.

"Fuck" He breathes.

"Get up" He demands, staring me down.

I quickly listen to him, struggling to get up onto my knees on the bed.

He gets on the bed and lays down.

"Sit on my cock, I want to watch my sweet girl fuck me" I shuffle my way to him and climb onto him.

He grabs one of my hips and the other wraps around the base of his cock. He helps guide himself and when he finds what he's looking for, he thrusts his hips up hard while pulling me down with the same force.

I go weak and catch my self.

Fuck, I already know how good this position is going to feel. Everything he's done so far has been fucking incredible.

I look down at him, watching as he looked at me with his bottom lip between his teeth.

I raise myself up and before I could sink back down, Harry does it for me. Pulling me down, once again, as hard as he can.

I whine, my stomach already forming knots.

As weak as I feel, I do it again, knowing that he's going to pull me back down.

He does and it feels so fucking good.

We get into a rhythm of me lifting my hips and him yanking me back down and burying himself as deep as he could.

My legs are jello as the pleasure of this position seizes them up and makes them numb.

But god, being in this position is amazing. I watch his face with every thrust, watching his seriousness falter as pleasure swims through him. The way his head goes back and his mouth opens up, low grunts and moans coming from him.

"Do you like sitting on my cock, Mars?" He stops me from lifting my hips and just rocks me back and forth for a moment.

I smile and nod, wiggling my hips in his hold.

"Look so sexy above me, baby" His smile turned into a smirk and he rolled us over, putting me beneath him.

He grabs my restrained hands and lifts them over my head and pins them down.

He pushes himself up and runs his hands threw his hair. It falls again towards his face when he looks down At me. He's gorgeous.

"Still can't believe this sexy girl hasn't been fucked properly" He runs his fingers up and down my hips. The feeling, almost ticklish.

"Never had the pleasure of having a real orgasm" He shakes his head and brings his hands up to my cheeks.

"I'm going to change that for you"

And I believe it. I don't have a doubt in my mind that this man is going to change my life.

He pushes my thighs up and then opens them wide and pushes them against the bed.

"You're so messy, darling" He let's go of one of my thighs and brings his fingers to my clit.

"Dripping all over the place" He chuckles and runs his fingers slowly up and down.

"Your husband ever manage to make you drip this much for him, baby?"

A whimper comes from me at the light pleasure. I shake my head, my hips moving against the feeling.

"Just for me?" I gasp when he pushes his finger into me, quickly adding a second.

"Sweet girl, dripping all for me"

I whine more, my hips moving to meet the movements of his fingers. It's amazing.

"I want to lick it all up for you" He pulls his fingers from me and brings them to his lips.

He bites his lip and then his eyes find mine.

He smiles.

"I don't want this time to end, darling. I want to play with you all night" He leans down and kisses along my jaw until he reaches my lips.

"I do hope that you've had fun with me, baby. Just wanted to show you what you've been missing out on" He lifts himself back up onto his knees, my legs now resting against his hips.

"I haven't felt like this in years" I say to him, I squeeze my legs around his hips and smile at him.

"I don't know how I'm ever going to have sex with him again" Harry chuckles.

"Just think about me, darling. Or better yet, get yourself out of that loveless relationship and join my world. Without fear, just pleasure" He runs his hands up my thighs and all the way up until he's hovering above me. His hands on either side of my head.

"I can change your life" He whispers against my lips and then kisses me.

How could I ever go back from this?

This night has changed my life and now I don't know what to do.

Whether I could have fixed my marriage or not, it's out the window now.

I will never not be able to think about this man. The things he has shown me, exposed me too.

I want more.

"There's a whole world out there for you, Mars" He smiles, one of his hands coming underneath my thigh and pushing it down against the bed.

His smile turns into a smirk and without a word, his cock sinks into me.

"All warmed up, taking me so easily" He teases while holding my thigh against the bed.

I groan, my vision going blurry with the unexpected pleasure and fullness.

"Fuck" He leaned over me, letting go of my leg. He held himself over me, pulling his hips away from mine and then pounding them back into me.

I looked up at him, watching as sweat dripped down his face. His once nicely made hair disheveled and hanging over his face.

I don't know what I did to deserve this gorgeous man coming into my life, but damn.

Maybe there is a God.

I want to grab him so bad, I fucking hate that I haven't been able too.

I want nothing more than to run my fingers into his hair and pull it. I just want to touch him so bad.

"You feel so good, baby" He kisses me, it's messy and hot.

The pace of his hips are sending me into a frenzy. I moan against his lips and I don't feel embarrassed about the noises that I make. I can't help it, It feels so good.

His lips and tongue against my own add to the overwhelming pleasure.

"H-Harry-" I lean my head back, closing my eyes tight and clasping my hands together above my head.

"Are you going to come with me, princess?" He grazes his teeth along my jaw and then pushes him self up onto his knees.

He firmly grabs my hips and speeds up his pace.

The pleasure is intense, everything in my body is electrified.

My thighs tremble, I can feel the orgasm clawing it's way out. It's a pleasure I can't describe.

Daniel, has never managed to make me orgasm like this. Even when our sex life was average.

This was an out of body experience kind of pleasure. It feels like I'm going to explode.

"Holy fuck" Harry's nails dig into my hips, his pace unchanging.

It's fucking heaven.

"Harry- I'm going to come" I cry out, one of his hands let's go of my hip and he reaches up to grab my throat.

"Wait" He demands, his voice is low.

"I- I can't" He doesn't let up, even with the slight change in position.

"Yes you can, sweetheart" He reassures and I groan.

I want to come so bad.

"I will tell you when you can come" He let's go of my throat when he's sure I got the message.

It's hard to control, to hold in the amount of pleasure swimming throughout my body.

I look up, looking at the way he's hunched over in the mirror above us. Watching as his cock slides in and out of me and just at the sight of it, I know there's no way I'll be able to stop myself.

"H-Harry, please" I whimper, my whole body is vibrating with pleasure and it's begging to be released.

He ignores me, pounding into me until I can't think.

"Fuck" He groans to himself, repeating the words under as his breath as he fucks me relentlessly.

He let's go of my hips and throws himself above me again.

"Come with me, Mars"

My body tenses up for a moment, the knot in my stomach reaching its breaking point and finally exploding in the most intense way.

I get so lost in my own bliss that I almost miss the look on his face as he climaxes.

But I open my eyes and see that his are closed, his mouth open a little. I watch as he enjoys the high, his body twitching in the pleasure. It's so hot to watch him come. It's a moment where he is completely vulnerable and just soaking every ounce of it up.

It's truly an unreal experience. I have never felt this before in my life.

It's a high that I desperately didn't want to come down from.

After a few moments of heavy breathing between the two of us, he pulls out of me.

He comes out of the moment and leans over me.

"That was incredible, my darling" He lightly kisses me and then gets off me and the bed.

"Come" He gestures me to go to him and I do. I sit at the edge of the bed and look up at him.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" He asks, his voice has shifted into a gentler tone.

He reaches down and grabs my restrained wrists.

"I don't like these" I say playfully, referring to the restraints.

"As in you don't like being tied up?" He asks, more serious but still soft as he began to take them off.

I shake my head.

I enjoyed being tied up. All of it, was intoxicating.

"I wanted to touch you" He smiles at that and places the restraints next to me.

He grabs my cheeks and leans down.

"Perhaps in another session, I will give you control" I smile back at him.

"You mean, like, tie you up?" I wonder, feeling excitment at the thought.

I've never really done anything like that before, but there's something about it. The thought of taking sexual control over a man. Or really anyone.

It's crazy to imagine myself in that position.

A fantasy I never thought I'd be able to explore.

He chuckled a little bit.

"If you decide to join my little world of pleasure, I want to do some exploring with you. Expose you to it before you take a full dive" He stroked my cheek and then turned around.

I watch as he walks over to his clothes.

"However, darling" He starts, pulling his boxers up his legs and turning back to face me.

"There is not much that I don't enjoy. I'm sure that I am perfectly capable of guiding you through whatever little fantasies you have. Whether it involves what you want me to do to you-" He walks back over to me, placing his hand on my jaw and then his thumb on my lips.

"Or what you want to do to me" He traces my lips for a moment and I wonder what he's thinking.

Is he picturing what I could do to him once I gain more experience?

My mind spins just thinking about it, doing things to him. Controlling him. Restraining him.

On the back of the door is a mirror. I look into it as I try zipping up my dress.

Harry notices after fixing his clothes and comes up to me, easily he zips it up.

"You shouldn't stay in a broken marriage, Mars" He's serious, his hands coming to my hips and resting there.

"It's just the beginning for you, love. You should be able to experience it freely" I sigh a bit and turn to face him.

"Are you going to marriage counsel me?" I ask. He grabbed my chin and looked at me.

"No, I'm telling you as a friend that you are clearly unhappy. Your husband doesn't even know how to please you correctly" He stated, his eyes are intense.

"I know, it's not that easy, Harry. Marriage isn't just a word. It's a contract. At least that's what this one feels like to me now. We own a home together, it's a lot more than just breaking up. It's taking down a whole world that my life is based around"

It's a weird feeling having a conversation like this with him after the situation that happened between us. But it's nice, I don't have many people who I can open up to about this.

"I'd be uprooting my entire life. I dont have much" I say after a moment of silence between us.

"Well, now you've met me, darling" His smile is warm, genuine.

"Along with some benefits, we are friends. I look out for my friends"

I didn't think this man could become anymore unreal than he already has. But there it is.

His ego is very present within his personality. He knows what he has, he knows who he is. But there's this sweetness to him. This charm that isn't fake. He's so, real.

"If I haven't made it obvious to you, Mars. I like you. I think there is much more to happen between us" He smiles.

I wish I knew what it is that he sees in me.

"You're a sweet man, Harry. Thank you" I reach up and rest my hand on his cheek.

"I don't share secrets, darling. I enjoy listening. If anything is ever on your mind, I will be here for you to open up" He kisses the palm of my hand and then steps back.

______

"It was a pleasure servicing you, my love" He places his hands on my hips and backs me up against the wall.

We were now in a dim hallway, a back entrance of the club.

"How do I contact you?" I ask, he smiles.

"Don't worry about that, I have my ways" He kisses me. I couldn't get enough of how they tasted.

"Going to have to be a little more sneaky for the time being. Until you rid yourself of that useless husband" He kisses me again.

"Hm, I do very much like you, Mars" He squeezes my hips.

"And I'm quite excited to see where this friendship goes" He kisses me one last time and then steps back.

"I've got a taxi out there to take you home"

He unlocks the door with the key and opens it up for me. The quietness of the moment getting penetrated by the noise of the outside world.

God, I don't want to go. I want to stay. I feel like I could just talk to this man all night.

"We shall meet again, my sweet Mars"

I look out the door, seeing the taxi parked just up the alleyway.

"I'm not about to get kidnapped, right?" He chuckled at the remark.

"I'd have to make a different call for that" He joked, he smiled and reached out to squeeze my hand.

"With me, darling. You are safe, no matter what" He reassures. I nod and before I step out the door, I kiss his cheek.

"I barely know you and I feel like a different person since I've met you. In a good way, so thank you for that" I whisper to him.

He smiles and watches as I leave and make my way towards the taxi.

____

My brain is reeling by the time the taxi reaches my house.

The reality of it all, hitting me.

I'd done something I can't take back. I've shredded every feeling I have towards my husband.

Part of me hates myself for it.

But now, I've had a taste of it. Freedom.

And fuck, I want more of it.

"Ma'am, before you go" The taxi driver caught my attention as I went to close the door.

He handed me a cellphone, but it clearly wasn't mine.

"Wait, this isnt-" Before I could finish, he drives off.

I watch as he does and then look down at the phone.

It's pristine, like it's brand new.

I turn the screen on and there's a text message.

I told you, Mars. I have my ways. H

Final Part.

~~~~

I hope you enjoyed my story! I had a lot of fun writing it ♡

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 2 years

Text

Creature Comforts

Prompt: hey ! feel free to ignore this if you want, but im having an anxiety moment™ and would love to see something like this in your writing style !!

so, my idea is that roman gets anxious when it storms due to his fear of the dark and the risk of the power going out, and patton has a phobia of thunderstorms, so they tend to hang out when it storms since the other understands, to some degree, their anxiety about the situation on a personal level. virgil, who loves storms, finds them / gets summoned when they're both panicking pretty bad due to a storm, and soft fluffy comfort ensues where he tries to calm them and reassure them that their fears aren't stupid. lots of soft fluff <3

regardless of whether or not you end up writing this, i hope you have a good day !!! i love your writing style sm <33 - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: thunderstorms

Pairings: uhhh whatever the one for roman/virgil/patton is, can be platonic or romantic i don't care

Word Count: 1795

For Virgil, thunderstorms are rare moments of peace. Times where he can just...relax, as much as he ever can, and watch the sky, listen to the rain, enjoy it.��

Not everyone in the Mindscape feels this way.

When Virgil hears that there’s going to be a big thunderstorm, he immediately starts planning.

Headphones, check. Warm drink, check. That one ledge in the Imagination Mansion with the big windows, check. Phone charger, check. Blanket, check.

Logan asks him why he’s so happy, offering a soft smile of his own when Virgil explains that there’s a thunderstorm coming up. He pats Virgil’s shoulder and wishes him a good storm watch.

Thunderstorms are so cool. The clouds get all big and bruised and purple—which is excellent—and the lightning makes the sky have all these dimensions that you never get to see when it’s clear. Plus, the sound of the rain makes for great reading weather and it’s getting to be near fall so hot apple cider is a completely acceptable choice of beverage.

Oh, this is going to be great.

He makes sure he’s got absolutely everything he needs and makes his way to the Imagination, opening it to find the foyer of the mansion before him. He walks through the hall until he finds the parlor, parking himself in the loveseat and wriggling into the cushions with a sigh. The clouds are already rolling in, so he puts his headphones on the windowsill and grabs his mug.

The apple cider is spiced to perfection. He smiles, blinking lazily at the darkening sky. That fake Tumblr post about mentally ill people liking storms because of negative ions or whatever plays in his head and he chuckles, lifting to take another drink. False as it may be, he does like storms.

You can imagine, then, when he suddenly gets summoned outside Patton’s room, that he’s less than thrilled about it.

Virgil groans, scrubbing his hand over his face. Hopefully whatever this is can be sorted out quickly and then he can get back to watching the storm. He knocks on the door.

“Uh, hello?”

“What is it, Patton, what do you want?”

“Um—nothing, kiddo, I don’t need anything.”

“You summoned me,” he says, starting to get impatient, “so what do you want?”

“I didn’t summon you! Neither did Roman—did you?”

Great. Princey’s here too. Virgil rolls his eyes.

“No, I most definitely didn’t.”

Virgil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look, I felt myself getting summoned, so just tell me what you want.”

“Nothing!”

“We didn’t do it on purpose, Virgil!”

Virgil rolls his eyes and tries to leave, only to feel the tug in his gut keeping him there. “Well, obviously one of you is doing something ‘cause I can’t leave.”

“We’re not doing anything,” Patton insists, “we’re—oh, goodness, just come in, I don’t like yelling through the door.”

Virgil grunts, opening the door a little harder than necessary and only slightly regretting it when he sees Roman and Patton jump. “What do you want?”

“We told you,” Roman says, “nothing. We didn’t summon you on purpose. We don’t know what’s keeping you here. I’m sorry for having disturbed you from your very important things—“

Virgil glares. “For your information, Princey, I was excited to watch the thunderstorm. But now I’m here, dealing with you two, and if you don’t even know why you brought me here—“

He pauses.

There was another tug at him when he mentioned the storm.

He looks at the two of them. They’ve moved apart a bit now, but they’re still curled up awfully tight on Patton’s bed. There are blankets and pillows piled around them and he can see Roman’s headphones in his hand.

He glances at the window. The curtains are drawn and fastened tightly shut.

He looks back. Patton keeps glancing at the window. Roman is doing his best to scowl at him but there’s an embarrassed red flush to his cheeks.

Ah.

Oh, dear.

Well, he kinda regrets slamming the door open.

“Are—“ he swallows, trying to make his voice a bit quieter— “are you guys scared of the storm?”

“No,” Roman says immediately, but Patton shrinks in on himself.

“Come on, really?” Virgil spreads his arms. “Obviously that’s what summoned me, there’s not really a point in lying unless you want to accidentally summon J too.”

He shakes his head.

“Patton, sure, I may have guessed, but you, Princey, really?”

“Don’t. Don’t tease.”

Oh, oops. Roman’s voice is hard now, and he’s properly glaring at Virgil.

“If you’re going to do that, leave.”

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry,” Virgil says, holding out his hands and softening his voice, “I won’t, I promise.”

Roman shuffles on the bed, looking away.

“Pop Star?”

“I have a phobia of thunderstorms,” comes the too-small voice, “okay?”

“Okay, sweetheart,” Virgil says, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, “okay. I’m sorry I was mean. It’s okay.”

Roman pulls Patton a bit closer, the two huddling in on themselves, and goddamnit, what is Virgil supposed to do, not melt? He’s not heartless, jeez.

“Oh, alright,” he murmurs like this is some big chore, “come on, you two, up.”

“What? ‘Up’ where?” Roman pulls Patton closer. “Why ‘up?’”

“Because if I’m gonna look after you two, we’re gonna need a bed the three of us can actually fit in.” He fusses them out, making sure their arms are full of the things they need, before he guides them to the Imagination. “Now, up the stairs.”

Roman blinks in surprise when he sees the mansion, turning to ask Virgil why he conjured it only for Virgil to push them gently into the nearest big bedroom. Which, of course, has a massive four-poster bed and a tall window with a heavy curtain hanging over it.

“Go on,” Virgil murmurs, giving them another gentle push, “into the bed.”

“Wait, what?” Patton turns. “Where’re you going?”

“I left some stuff downstairs, I’m just gonna go get it.”

“Come back?”

“Be right there.”

Virgil nips downstairs and briefly laments that he won’t get to finish the thing he’d been reading before he shakes his head, gathers the essentials, and heads back up.

He’s not surprised to see Roman by the window, even as Patton is snuggled under the covers.

“Hey, Princey,” he says, placing his stuff down and ambling over, “I thought I said to get in bed, not stare broodingly out the window.”

Roman doesn’t rise to the bait. Virgil places a hand on his shoulder.

“What’s up, bud?”

“I’m just thinking about logistics.”

“Logistics?”

“The mansion’s power.” Roman gestures around. “It’s unlikely that the storm will be able to target both generators at once, but I need to be able to reroute to the backups—“

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” Virgil murmurs, turning Roman’s face, “you’re spiraling, bud.”

Roman hides his gaze. Virgil ruffles his hair.

“C’mon, Princey,” he says gently, “snap yourself into something comfy and go cuddle Patton. I think he’s getting lonely.”

Sure enough, Patton’s head is poking out of the covers, looking around for them. Roman looks at him with badly concealed longing and Virgil rolls his eyes fondly.

“Go cuddle, you touch-starved prima donna, I’ll be right there.”

“’M not touch starved.”

“So you do want Janus to show up?”

“Virgil,” Roman honest to god whines, “stop it.”

He chuckles, nudging Roman to the bed. “Come on, Princey.”

Roman goes, slipping underneath the covers until Virgil can’t tell which head is poking out over the edge. He pulls the curtains shut and closes the door, carefully opening the bathroom door to make sure those curtains are shut too. Then he heads back to the bed.

Patton and Roman’s little faces peek out at him as he reaches for the ties on the corners, undoing each one until curtains fall from the four posters, creating a little bubble inside. He parts the last one and crawls into bed, pulling the others close.

“Alright, little cuddle bugs,” he murmurs, “c’mere, okay?”

The two of them seem to shrink, curling into his embrace with enough lingering fear that it makes a soft noise slip from his throat.

“I’m right here,” he says, brushing his lips against Patton’s temple, “I’m right here. Roman’s here too. You’re okay, sweetheart, you’re safe.”

Patton whimpers as the first roll of thunder comes from beyond the curtains and Virgil pulls him closer.

“Listen to my breathing, sweetheart. You’re safe. The storm can’t get you in here. I’ll look after you.”

Patton curls into him even further, trembling slightly. But where Patton is unabashed in taking comfort, Roman is stiff as a board. Virgil runs a knuckle down his back.

“It’s okay, Princey,” he says gently, “the power isn’t going to go out. Remus will keep an eye on it. You’re okay, everything’s okay. The house is fine, I’m fine, Patton’s fine, you’re fine.”

A brief flash from behind the curtain and Roman flinches.

“Hey, hey, buddy, it’s alright, you’re okay. C’mere, okay? Put your head right here. See? There you go…”

He wraps his arms tightly around the two of them, daring to nuzzle his face into their hair. Patton relaxes slightly as he pulls the covers up a bit more, but Roman stays tense.

“Roman.” Nothing. “Roman, look at me.”

“It’s dark,” comes Roman’s voice, too clipped, too sharp, “I can’t see.”

“It’s dark because the curtains are drawn,” Virgil says patiently. “Lightning can hurt your eyes, so we’re trying to block out the light. That’s why it’s dark.”

“…promise?”

“Reach out,” Virgil encourages softly, “touch them.”

A bit of light shines through as Roman bats the curtain. “Good job, bud, see? That’s it.” He pulls Roman’s head close again. “Try and rest, Princey, I gotcha.”

They weather the storm like that, the two cuddle bugs wincing or flinching when the storm gets too strong, Virgil hushing them every time they do. And yeah, maybe this isn’t what he set out to get when he heard there was a thunderstorm coming, but he could get used to this.

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