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arminsumi · 5 months

Note

more jealous sukuna please? and and sukuna smut too? your sukuna has been on my mind like a rotisserie chicken in microwave

LIKE YOU'RE MY QUEEN

“What would you prefer? Gojo spoiling you like a princess, or me spoiling you like a queen?”

4.9k

★ Featuring : boss!Sukuna, co-worker!Gojo

★ Synopsis : at a Christmas work party, your jealous boss Sukuna proves that he can treat you better than Gojo ever could.

★ Note : like a rotisserie chicken in a microwave?! 😂 best thing i ever heard

★ Warnings : 🔞 MDNI/18+, jealousy, possessiveness, rivalry between Gojo and Sukuna, reader x Gojo smut memories, bl*wjob + deepthroating, cunnilingus/facesitting, creampies, reader is on birth control, taking condom off (consensual), Gojo catching/listening thru door, +++

Sukuna steps out of a shower dripping wet.

He wraps a towel around his waist, and it hangs dangerously low on his hips, showing the definition of his V-line and his dark patch of hair. He wipes a clearing on the steamed-up mirror with his hand, then gets ready to shave – lines up all the products that he’s going to use. It’s funny; you wouldn’t expect him to have so many skin care products, yet he does.

Sukuna shaves his cheeks with a precise, beady eye on his reflection in the mirror. The razor makes small, sharp sounds when he drags it across his jawline, which he juts out a bit.

Why is he shaving so precisely? Well, Sukuna overheard you speaking once to a co-worker in the office, and you said something about being turned on by clean-shaven men.

After shaving, he puts on an Italian-branded moisturizer. He also dabs on a pea-sized amount of some special skin care product and using both his middle fingers he smooths it onto his skin in a sweepy pattern.

Apparently, you like it when men have a lingering moisturizer scent on their cheeks.

Sukuna spends a long time getting ready for the Christmas work party that he’s hosting tonight at his own penthouse. The whole office anticipates this end of year party from Sukuna, they’re very lavish.

You better notice his obvious efforts.

He knows you're an intelligent and well-versed woman. He likes that about you. And he likes your look, especially at the end-of-year work parties when you really glam yourself up for the occasion. But he likes your look even when you're scurrying around the office with messy hair and no make-up to conceal your imperfections, he still looks at you with the same lustfulness – like he needs to take you into his office and bend you over his desk for doing a good job.

Your boss distinctly remembers how you looked at the Christmas work party last year; your smile and glittering earrings like a treasured photograph in his mind.

He hopes you'll wear the thin-chained, diamond necklace that he gifted you. Whenever you wear it, he feels a bit delusional — he thinks you belong to him. But you’re just his employee.

Something your boss regrets is hiring a particular employee.

This employee is tall, sorely good-looking and charismatic to the point of making it hard for his co-workers (and Sukuna) catch your eye. Sukuna’s been battling to maintain his pride and not fire the man solely for charming you.

Sometimes you’ve noticed Sukuna clenching his jaw when catching you and this employee flirting by the water-cooler. He usually strides by and grumbles “Get back to work.” to disrupt the two of you.

Sukuna thinks this man has some audacity to get in your pants, considering the whole office knows that Sukuna has eyes on you.

When you first started out at this job, Sukuna was cruel and harsh on you even though you were clearly trying your best as a rookie – and what a cheeky move his employee made when he noticed this; he buttered you up after Sukuna yelled at you so that you’d take more of a liking to him than your boss.

One of the first things Gojo Satoru said to you was;

“Sweets, don’t listen too closely to the boss; you’re doing great for a rookie.”

And from that moment, you were enamoured by him. Your co-worker with white hair, standing at a big 6’3 frame, wearing an intoxicating Giorgio Armani cologne. You and him have a three year age gap, him being older and also a single dad… two things that turn you on.

Sukuna and Gojo may have the funniest boss/employee dynamic you’ve ever seen. They both act like they’re the boss.

Sometimes you follow orders from Gojo and say “Yes, sir.” and this makes Sukuna ball his hands into fists on his desk. He keeps a stoic, professional face. Gojo just laughs and usually replies with “Sweets, ‘m not the boss – he is. Right, Sukuna?” to which Sukuna quietly thinks of murder.

If Gojo wasn’t his best employee, you’re sure there would be a fight between them. It’s not the work ethic of Gojo that makes him a good employee, it’s the fact he brings in great business from around the world because he is just so incredibly charming and charismatic.

Sukuna appreciates and respects Gojo’s charm and charisma, yes. Until it’s used on you. Then he seethes.

At Christmas parties, Gojo’s always hot on you. But this year, Sukuna’s determined to make sure to corner you before Mister Blue Eyes does.

— ★

A dim-lit, lavish room big enough to accommodate the whole office of employees is decorated and filled to the brim. Servers sieve through the crowd. A glittering chandelier hangs from the tall ceiling. The work party is somehow even more lavish than last year’s, which you can’t comprehend.

Just like I said; Gojo is always hot on you at these parties. His eyes are on you (and blazing with lust) immediately after you appear. Tonight, you’re wearing a tight, glittery slip dress that you were gifted anonymously. And Gojo makes haste to compliment you as flirtatiously as possible.

“I think the chandelier is jealous.” He goofs, making you smile.

“Hey, Satoru.” You greet him.

“Hey.”

Sukuna watches from across the room as you two share a hug – and it’s a hug that tells a whole story.

You and Satoru have been clearly bonding as co-workers… especially this year, after you two went on that business trip together in Okinawa.

Well, now Sukuna regrets allowing you to accompany Gojo on that trip. Clearly the two of you spent the month steaming up the hotel’s shower and ruining the tightly tucked bedsheets.

And he’s right.

You and Satoru practically spent the whole business trip fucking like bunnies in as many positions as you could and in as many places as you could – both in the hotel room and around the resort you stayed at.

There had been a sexual tension between you and Satoru that built up during the work year since January, and it finally snapped during the trip in Okinawa when it was just you and him alone together. The first night? Gojo was so smooth it made you giggle uncontrollably, even while caged between his strong arms. He made sure to fuck your giggles out until they turned into screaming moans.

God he was skilled – really skilled. And you know what’s worse than a man who’s skilled in the bedroom? A man with a big, fat cock. Eight. A bit of a right-tending curve. Pale. Lots of veins – a prominent one running down the shaft. Pink tip. Taut balls, heavy with cum. No condoms as per your request after you saw it the first time. Creampies as per your demand since you had birth control. And be glad you had it, because Satoru’s cum was potent.

All you could babble as he fucked you each time was:

“God, your cock is so fucking big, Satoru!”

And he had a smug reply every time.

“I know, baby. But you love taking it, right?”

Satoru fucked you during that business trip like he was trying to burn the memory of how good he fucks into your mind. He nicknamed you his Sex Bunny because of how readily you hopped on his dick each time he flirted – and when the two of you were in the office again, he shortened it to just Bunny. It was like a little inside joke between the two of you, one that made you instantly giggle and feel hot in the face.

Neither of you counted how many times you two had sex in Okinawa, but tonight at the Christmas party you and Satoru reminisced about all the places you had sex in.

The hotel lobby with a remote-control vibe. The hotel bed. The hotel shower. Against the hotel window. Over a room-service cart. Standing by the hotel door – outside, not inside, at 3 am when no one was around but still it was risky. At the restaurant. At the other restaurant. At the beach. Twice. In the backseat of an expensive, rented car.

“… wish we could have ticked the plane off our list of locations.” Satoru smirks

“What are you two talking about?” your other co-worker, Nanami Kento, joins the conversation.

“Nothin’, just our trip to Okinawa last month. It was pretty fruitful.” Satoru holds back a laugh.

Kento nods, sipping his champagne. The three of you talk business for a while but then Kento leaves to go talk to Suguru who beckoned for him to come over to the other side of the room – introducing work people, you know.

“Satoru, you come here too. There’s someone I want you to meet.” Suguru calls for his best friend.

“Suguru, you’ll have to work harder than that if you want to tear me away from her.” Satoru jokes.

You feel your cheeks warm up. If it wasn’t for the professional setting of a work party, Satoru would be caressing your hips and kissing you as if you’re his to-be wife. Actually, Satoru seriously considers doing both of those things after hearing you laugh but then the two of you are interrupted by a familiar, strong-voiced man.

Sukuna seethes at Gojo’s audacity to stand so close to you. He purses his lips and tenses his abdomen muscles. He gets full-body fits of jealousy; his muscles tensing and lips pursing are common.

“Enjoying yourselves?” Sukuna asks stiffly.

“Of course – and you’re responsible for it.” Gojo cheeks.

There’s an underlying meaning to his response that Sukuna pieces together instantly – his jaw clenches but he maintains his composure.

You’re flitting your attention between the men.

Gojo is severely good-looking. Not just because he won the genetic lottery, but because he maintains his looks with high-end classy fashion and he refines himself to the point of looking ready for a model photoshoot.

Sukuna has a sensual, firm feeling to his looks. Jawline sharp enough to cut, and his voice cuts too – he’s sliced through the tension between you and Gojo. Cleaving Gojo is just something he enjoys doing. He’s a bit sadistic, he delights in Gojo’s downfall. You’re being charmed away by Sukuna with each word he speaks.

So Gojo flirts harder.

Then Sukuna flirts harder.

You feel a bit small with these two big, muscular men in suits clustering close to your tinier body. They’re like peacocks having a feather show-off competition to win you over.

Both men are trying to undress you with their eyes, their pupils peeling back the thin fabric cradling your breasts. Sukuna’s feasted on your cleavage many times when you’ve bent over in the office to pick something up. It irks him that Gojo has had the privilege of playing with your breasts and he hasn’t yet.

He’s pooling with jealousy; it’s spilling through his tone as he continues talking with you and Gojo.

Sukuna notes that you’re wearing the thin-chained, diamond necklace that he hoped you'd wear.

Your dress glitters.

Sukuna gets a little hard right then because he stares at you for too long. The dress hugs the shape of your body so that every kink and curve is unconcealed. It leaves little up to the imagination.

That's what he likes to see. His favorite employee wearing his necklace and his dress at his party.

The men talked business with you for a bit, but not for long.

"She looks like a goddess tonight, doesn’t she, Sukuna? I don't know how any man here is standing upright. Me personally, my knees are buckling."

Your cheeks burn, “Oh, Satoru, you’re laying it on thick, you flirty bastard.” You light-heartedly shove his chest.

Sukuna clenches his jaw.

Not only did your response to Gojo’s flirting irk Sukuna, but also the way you used his first name – you’re that close? And you touching Gojo was just the nail in the coffin.

“You talk a lot as usual, Gojo.” Sukuna’s professional tone slips for a second.

“I know, I know…” Gojo smirks cheekily, knowing he was chipping away at Sukuna. “But don’t you think that dress just fits her form so perfectly?” he emphasizes.

“Yes, it was made for her.” Sukuna replies. Gojo tilts his head in surprise. “I contacted a friend overseas and asked if he could have it made in time for Christmas. Good to see my efforts weren’t for nothing.”

Your cheeks burn as Sukuna reveals that he bought the dress for you. He’d gotten your measurements from your tailor.

"Oh! — oh my god, you really didn't have to do that for me, Sukuna." you reply humbly.

Sukuna smirks smugly after hearing his name from your lips.

"I absolutely had to. You deserved it after working so hard for me this year."

Gojo has goes quiet and purses his lips.

"Your efforts definitely weren't for nothing, Sukuna." Gojo chimes in smoothly.

"Ahah, Satoru you're really overdoing it. Thank you, though. Always nice to hear sweet things from your lips." you flirt a little.

You flirt a little.

Gojo flirts back.

Sukuna is teetering between being a boss of a company and being his old self who used to aspire to be a professional boxer.

Gojo is a man that gets everything he wants – you know, like he’s the chosen one and life was tailored to fit him. An excellent position at an excellent job, screwing his hot co-worker in Okinawa.

Just once, Sukuna wants to take everything away from Gojo.

Now your boss is itching to get alone with you. Gojo yaps, flirts, plays, never shuts up. Then finally, he readies leave.

“Alright, I’ll have to leave for a moment. Suguru has been wanting my attention since I got here and I’m such a bad friend that I’ve ignored him for your company instead.” He joked. “But I promise I’ll come back and spoil ya, ‘princess.”

No you won’t, Sukuna thinks.

And the split second that Gojo joins Suguru’s small group conversation, Sukuna steers you through the crowd and leads you up the stairs – holding your hand like a real gentleman, you thought. But Sukuna’s a gentleman with carnal, primal desires.

He looks at your neck, at the necklace, then his eyes trail down to your cleavage and he admires the dress as it shimmers in the dim light.

He decides that tonight he'll win you over.

Enough of this peacock war between Sukuna and Gojo. He's the boss, right?

— ★

You sit cross-legged on a lush, black sheet bed, giggling at the dirty jokes that your boss, Ryomen Sukuna, is muttering into your ear. He makes you wiggle your foot flirtatiously, your high heel slipping off a bit.

The party is still ongoing downstairs. Gojo Satoru wonders where you are but Geto Suguru is keeping him locked in a business conversation with Nanami Kento and Fushiguro Toji.

You act like Sukuna’s flirting is too hot and heavy for you to handle. A big grin is plastered on your face.

He leans in close to your ear. You catch a whiff of his intoxicating after-shave oil and his cologne; he smells spicy and expensive.

Then he asks you a question that ends the playful flirting and turns the atmosphere into a serious lust.

"What would you prefer? Gojo spoiling you like a princess, or me spoiling you like a queen?"

He sees your eyes light up and your body shift excitedly. His closeness makes your breath hitch.

"I-if I'm being honest? The latter."

“I think you’re lying.” He teases.

“Lying? Why do you think so?” you ask flirtatiously.

Sukuna’s lips graze yours.

“Because you’ve been flirting like a slutty little princess with him all night.”

You swallow. His cologne floods your head. You can’t think straight. You look down and see he’s got a bulge in his tight pants. It takes all your self-restraint not to reach out and squeeze his cock through his pants; it looks so delicious.

“Am I wrong?” he asks after you’ve gone silent for much too long. “Maybe you want both of us.”

“Of course I do.” You admit openly.

“Oh? You’re sluttier than I thought.” He smirks.

“Isn’t that why I’m your favorite employee?” you tease.

“Hmmm… I don’t know if you’re still my favorite employee after admitting you want both me and Gojo.” He replies.

“Aw… well, if I’m not your favorite employee anymore…”

Your fingertips reach out and touch the curve of his cock.

“… can I become your favorite slut?”

Those words go straight to his cock. It’s straining against his pants now. He’s so hard it’s getting jumpy, you can see it visibly twitching in his pants.

***

Pants unzipped, head tilted back, eyes shut in bliss, Sukuna palms your head up and down on his cock, making your lips slide up and down his cock.

You splutter when he hits the back of your throat, and gag when he starts to slide his big cock down your throat.

“Ghhhn.” You gargle and choke as his thick, bulbous cockhead stretches out your throat.

He tastes so addicting. That’s something Sukuna has in common with Satoru; tasting so damn good. Is it their lifestyles? Their diets? Who knows. You remember sucking Satoru dry in Okinawa because his cum just tasted so good.

Taking as much of your boss’ cock as you can, you let him keep you down on it for a few seconds before hastily pulling off for air.

He groans loudly.

“Fuck, maybe you will become my favorite slut after tonight.” He jokes. “Look how fucking sloppy you’ve made my cock.”

You wipe the saliva from your chin and lips, smiling happily at Sukuna’s slicked cock.

He changes positions. The bedsheets rustle as he lays on it, stretching his long legs out. His cock sways as he moves, you eye it out.

“Come here.” He commands with a beckoning finger.

You crawl over to him and straddle his lap. He rests his hands on your hips and looks at your glittering slip dress – it rises over the curve of your thigh. He squeezes the plush fat there, letting out a groan of satisfaction at the sensation of your flesh moulding to his hand.

“You’ve been a good slut to me, now tell me what you want first; do you want me to treat you like a slut or like my queen?”

“Like your queen.” you reply with sparkly eyes.

“Then come up here and sit on your throne, my queen.” He commands.

You look at him dumbstruck.

During the trip in Okinawa, Gojo wasn’t opposed to eating you out – if you asked him he would do it. But he wasn’t all too good at it, it was just for prep. You didn’t complain because he made up for it by luring multiple orgasms out of your pussy with his cock.

Your hips hover inches above your boss’ tattooed face. His eyes catch on the slick that’s dribbling out your hole and smearing across your inner thigh. He notices you hesitate to sit down on his face.

“Sit.” He commands again.

But before you lower your pussy onto his face, he does it himself – by grabbing your hips and bringing you down.

“Oh! Fuck! Mmm!” you gasp.

Sukuna wastes no time working his skilled tongue into your pussy.

At first he runs his tongue up and down the slit, not quite parting it yet. Teasing, light licking up to your clit, he grazes circles around it with his pointed tongue. You squirm your hips, so he holds them more firmly.

“Don’t you fucking squirm. Stay right here, my queen.”

Sukuna’s words and breath go right against your puffy clit. It’s buzzing and sensitive, needy for attention. You gasp loudly when you feel him kiss it. Then he kisses it again – sloppier, and starts making out with your clit as if it’s your lips.

“Oh, fuck! S-sir!” you breathe excitedly.

He hums against your clit, smug that you’re still calling him ‘Sir’.

Now he starts to suckle your clit gently, massaging his tongue into it while he does. His big hands caress up and down your shuddering thighs.

“Mmm!” you whine, pinching your eyes shut and feeling good on your boss’ face.

He pulls his lips away, murmuring “Bet that asshole never made you make these noises, hm?” he says proudly.

Sukuna’s tongue flattens out and swipes upwards, he starts lapping like a thirsty dog. You hear him breathing and lightly groaning. Sukuna’s using all his tricks on your pussy.

You place your hands on the headboard in front of you and gulp, pinching your eyes shut even tighter. He can’t see it, but he just knows your lips are forming that O shape right now. His tongue wiggles into your hole, and he starts tongue-fucking you hard and fast. His lips press against your squishy folds. He can feel your juices start running down his chin as he continues.

“Oh my god!” your moans quiver. Your body trembles a bit. “That’s so fucking good!”

Sukuna smirks into your pussy and keeps fucking you with his tongue. You clench tight.

Sukuna works his tongue against your clit. He builds up your first orgasm of the night. His tongue goes faster and faster against your puffy clit, lips latching on and suckling it. You feel your orgasm nearing and your mind goes fuzzy. You’re dumbing out on Sukuna’s tongue.

It feels too good, you can't help but hump your hips back and forth on Sukuna's face.

"That's it, fuck my face." he groans and switches from thrusting his tongue into your hole to suckling your clit again. He points his tongue at your bud and flicks it rapidly.

"Fuuuck! Oh my god that's so good that's s-so fucking good! Please don't stop! MHM! Oh my god I'm gonna — cummm!!"

You roll your eyes back and feel your orgasm working up in your pussy as Sukuna sucks your clit harder. You zone out on pleasure and focus on cumming.

Sukuna groans into your pussy, feeling you gush all over his face. He’s a mess, his cheek splattered with your watery cum as it dribbles out. He keeps licking you through your orgasm, making you shudder and scream.

Sukuna lets out a naughty, humming laugh that gets muffled onto your pussy. You cum all over his face and shake violently, feeling your pussy convulse and contract.

There's just one thing you have to say to Sukuna for him to toss you off his face.

"Need your cock, please!"

He licks your inner thighs to clean them up.

“Sure, queen.”

— ★

Gojo's still enjoying the party, but now it's been an hour since you disappeared and he wonders where you are until he realizes Sukuna is nowhere to be found, either. Hm,

You've got your legs pushed back as Sukuna eases his cock into your pussy. He slowly stretches you open, savoring the feeling of pushing past your entrance.

Then he groans while he starts to fuck his inches into you one by one. Big hands keep your legs pushed back into a mating press.

You let out quivering moans and roll your eyes back. Sukuna's jaw slacks and he tilts his head off to the side. His fat cockhead prods at your G-spot and that's when you squeal;

"Fuck! Right there!"

"Oh, right here?"

"Mhm! Fuck! Right theeere, Sukuna! Oh my god, S-Sukunaaa!"

"Ooh, you're gettin' loud for your boss’ cock, huh?" he grins as he starts thrusting hard, sweeping thrusts into your G-spot. “I like that. Let everyone hear who’s fucking your cunt so good.”

He stares down at the place where you and him connect. Your pussy feels sticky all over as he fucks your juices out. His cock works in and out of you at a mean pace and you moan louder and louder as he goes faster and faster, totally turning your brain to mush.

"Ooh fuck!" you gasp each time he reaches a new depth with his tip.

Sukuna thumbs skillfully at your clit while pushing his cock as deep as your pussy will let him go.

He doesn't know where to look, because your breasts are sluttily bouncing in your dress and your exposed lower tummy is shuddering with each thrust of his big cock.

His breathing gets ragged, and he grunts, positioning himself at a better angle so he can reach deeper.

At this angle his cock has you seeing stars. Your mouth makes an O shape and you go silent, unable to moan because of how good it feels. How funny, he thinks. He's fucked you so good you can’t even moan, your voice is gone.

But then it comes back louder than ever.

"S'kuna!! Fuckfuckfuck moreright there please FUCK ahhhh god fuck I loveyousomuch pleasedon'tstopfuckingme!!"

His ego inflates after catching that ‘I love you so much’.

"That’s it, love me – never him, understand?" he growls seriously, and suddenly stills inside you. “Say it. You love me and not him.”

You gasp, feeling his tip pressing against your cervix.

"Yes! I love you, not him!”

Sukuna grunts and keeps pressuring your cervix with his cock. He roughly squeezes your hips, your stomach, your breasts like a primal lover.

"Tell me I fuck you better than Gojo Satoru. Scream it.”

His rough, animalist thrusts start up again and your eyes roll back, mouth hung open and teeth bearing when it feels too good.

"Y-you fuck me better than Gojo Satoru!" you scream.

Sukuna keeps making you scream this over and over.

"Keep fucking saying it, I'm getting so close." he groans.

Then a feeling comes over him, like someone's outside the door. He smirks and gives a glance behind him at the closed door.

"Say it again." Sukuna commands you, eyes still on the door. He's pure evil.

"You fuck me so good, S'kuna!" you babble, "You fuck me better than Gojo!"

"That's a good fuckin' girl.” He growls nastily, “Now keep telling me how much better I am than him while you take this fucking cock." he growls and starts thrusting into you harder and faster until his sticky balls slap into you loudly.

Sukuna keeps fucking you until your body jiggles at the force of his thrusts. You shift up the bed and cling to the headboard, Sukuna sees your tiny hand grab it and he puts his hand over yours.

Hands off your body, he fucks you full of his cock and makes sure it's as loud as possible.

"I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum! Nnnh don't stop!" you gasp, feeling a G-spot stimulated orgasm building up in your pussy.

"Yeah, cum. Cum for me and only me." Sukuna growls and pounds into you.

"Fuck, S'kunaaa 'm cumming on your b-big cock!" you scream, unable to keep quiet at all with how his cock is fucking you.

You shake from head to toe and feel your pussy constrict tightly around his big cock. He watches your eyes roll back and your body tense up as you cum long and hard. Sukuna groans and feels your milking contractions and it gets him close to his own orgasm.

"Hear that?" he talks, but not to you. "This pussy’s all mine now. I’m gonna fuckin’ claim it.”

He leans down and asks you clearly; "Baby, do you want me to take the condom off and cum inside?" he asks.

"Yes! Yes please! Fuck me raw, cum inside!" you cry, feeling his cock continue to pound into you after your orgasm.

"Good girl. Taking my fucking dick so good." he slides out and pulls the condom off his cock with a little difficulty, his fingers slipping. He gets a grip on the end and peels it off his cock and tosses the condom onto the pillow next to your head.

Sukuna enters you again and gets right back to the same pace he was fucking you with earlier.

"Fuck!" you gasp, thrashing your legs around. "Fuck, oh my god!"

"I'm close..." he closes his eyes and tilts his head back.

You look behind you to see him, eyes catching on his tattoos and flexing muscles. He's sweating and grunting, pounding into you like he's proving a point. Because he is.

"Fuck. I'm cumming, take it all." he growls and holds your body almost suffocatingly tightly.

You roll your eyes back when you feel him push himself as deep as he can go. Hot ropes of his sticky cum spurt out of his cock, filling you up so much that you can really feel it. Your pussy milks him through his orgasm and he moans brokenly.

"Fuck..." he slaps your ass hard, and thrusts a little bit more inside you just so that sloppy sound fills the room.

"Listen to that creampied pussy. Sounds like it's all mine now, huh Gojo?"

You blink dumbly.

Gojo smirks behind the closed door and walks away, shaking his head, muttering curses under his breath at his boss.

Well, how unfortunate, Sukuna fucked his jealousy out into your pussy, but now Gojo is throbbing with jealousy as he walks away from the door, defined jaw clenching tight and cock rock hard in his tight pants.

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

3K notes · View notes

dosie-dosie · 6 months

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Existing and Defying Stereotypes As An A-Spec Disabled Person

Gray-Romantic, Grieving, and Dealing with More Internalized Amatonormativity than I Thought (tw: internalized arophobia, abuse)

How Asexual and Aromantic People Observe a Day Dedicated to Love

If You Can See the Invisible Elephant, Please Describe It

I'm Aromantic and Asexual - And I Love Valentine's Day

Is It Possible For Me To Be Lesbian and Aroace at the Same Time?

I’ve Realized I’m Asexual but Have Internalised Aphobia, So What Now? (tw: internalized acephobia)

Lesbian Ace and Aro Perspectives

‘Not Broken’: The Struggles of Being an Aromantic Allosexual

Three People Who Identify as Asexual and Aromantic Explain What V Day Is Like For Them

What Is It Like Being Allo Aro?

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1K notes · View notes

jjongslutz · 6 months

Text

심재윤 JAKE 💋 HOLD ME CLOSE [ MDNI. ]

IN WHICH jake comes back from tour missing you so much, he doesn’t want to waste a single second to even take off your clothes.

WARNINGS ⨯ dry humping (that’s literally it) + cumming in pants

WORD COUNT ⨯ 0.6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE . . . i’m an avid pathetic!jake enjoyer

ENHYPEN going on tour is both an exciting, new and prideful experience and the thing you dread the most. You weren’t able to accompany them as you’d hoped because of school, which meant almost two months without Jake by your side.

It was hard on him, too. Especially filled with the adrenaline from the concert, Jake wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel and spend whatever energy he had left fucking you into the mattress. Then, he’d prepare for the concert the following day, rinse and repeat. Without you, however, he was doomed to weakly jerk off to whatever sexy photos you sent him every now and again, or the few videos he took with you.

Finally, he has you to himself again.

“I missed you so much,” he huffs into your ear.

Jake’s voice tickles your skin, causing you to stutter in your movements. He groans.

Right as he got off the plane not more than an hour ago, he was texting you about how much he missed your touch. He told you he needed you then and there, even sent a picture of his hand on his growing erection in the back of the company van.

Now, you find yourself grinding against him, still wearing the flimsy skirt you wore to campus and he in his loose-fitted jeans, which fold perfectly into your core.

His nails dig crescents into your skin where he lifts a bit of your shirt for a better grip. The pain hurts so good.

Jake pushes you back and pulls you forward in a rhythmic pattern to get you both where you want to go. “Fuck, baby, just like that,” he whispers, a pleasured smirk forming on his face as he shuts his eyes tightly.

His hips grind up into yours, bulge protruding where you need it most. As much as you want to rip the material off of him, you’re too desperate to get off with him to stop now.

You roll forward and he rolls up. “Fuck,” you sigh pleasurably. Your head naturally falls into the crook of his neck.

Jake takes this as an inviting opportunity to suck hickeys into the skin of yours. “Haven’t seen you so long—” He kisses the skin he just bruised. “—I have to make sure everyone knows you're taken.”

You giggle at his words and his lips trickling down your neck, but it soon morphs into a whine as you feel your core growing warming.

Picking up your pace, you roll your hips into Jake’s crotch. Your cunt runs against his bulge at every angle and it feels so good.

“You gonna cum?” Jake pants from below.

Lost in the pleasure, you can’t bring yourself to answer him with words. You whimper against his skin, lifting your head to crash your lips onto his. He pulls your tongue into his mouth, sucking on it and moaning like it tastes like candy. To him, it is.

Jake bucks his hips and suddenly it all comes rushing out of you. You let out a pornagraphic moan while doubling over him, feeling a wet patch forming in your panties. Beneath you, Jake has his own stain on his pants, but he doesn't seem to mind as he drops his head back while catching his breath through quiet shuttered moans.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He’s pulling you in, laying your head onto his shoulder, but keeping your legs draped over his. You feel his rapid heartbeat under the palm of your hand on his chest. “Sorry…”

You tilt your head up. “What for?”

“That wasn't very gentlemanly.”

“What you wanted to bring me flowers, too? Before fucking me into next week?”

He laughs.

“I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me.” You attempt to get up, but your shaking legs bring you back down into his arms. “Later.”

715 notes · View notes

highvern · 3 days

Text

Patterns III

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (18+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: oral (f. & m. receiving), protected sex, kissing, awkward wonwoo, jealousy, grinding/dry humping, making out, fingering (in public)

Length: 8.5k

Note: part 3 is here and now we will yearn. you can find most of the pieces i reference HERE and some are printable! thank you to everyone in @svthub for helping and @gyuswhore beta-ing

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Wonwoo recognizes the heat of a body blanketing his before anything else. Slowly, like sands sifting through an hourglass, he wakes. Your chest sticks to his from the heat of the morning, skin on skin. Feeling comes back to his hands as they ghost along your bare spine, following the curve of your ribs, down to the soft spot above your hips and back again.

The second thing he realizes is your lips ghosting his neck.

“Morning,” he croaks through a yawn.

You hum in response, nosing along his jaw. Eyes still shut, he can see the shadow when you rise and leave the next kiss on his lips. The same rush of arousal that haunted him last night lingers. But at least this time he’s awake enough to appreciate your efforts.

After dedicating all his energy to pleasing you, Wonwoo nearly screamed when you palmed his cock. Too tired to fuck a pretty girl? Pathetic. But with swallowed pride, he brushed away your ardent hands, and passed out before you demanded any answers.

It was the fastest he’d fallen asleep in weeks.

Now, you seem to be making up for the lost opportunity and Wonwoo is just as eager to enjoy.

Hands trailing the dip of your back, his mouth opens when you prod across the seam of his lips. Everything slides together easily; your leg thrown over his hip finds the mattress and the heat against the crotch of his sweatpants calls like a siren’s song. The first nudge into the seat of your ass sends dual sighs into the air.

Wonwoo fills his palms with the swells of your ass, dragging you across his clothed length again and again until your arousal soaks through his pants. Eyes still shut, he savors the grind, slowing you with firm hands until you protest with a huff.

You indulge him as best you can. Idle touches across his chest turn the edges of Wonwoo’s mind hazy, melting his resolve until your mouthing down his neck, then his chest, and finally his caved stomach.

The first glimpse of your visage is proof he’s still lost in the land of dreams. All Wonwoo can see is endless skin, still bare from last night. The blur without his glass does little to dim your glow. Trails of golden light peeking through the window cast a halo around your shoulders like something ethereal; as if the sunrise itself sat itself in his lap this morning and decided to greet him personally.

But the way you suck him through the fabric of his underwear is akin to the devil.

“Fuck,” Wonwoo gasps. His hips curl up, searching for more relief. You don’t give in easily. Instead, you favor mouthing along the outline of his bulge until you’re back at the patch of skin sitting about the waistband.

Just as he falls into the comfort of your mouth, you move it elsewhere; lips tapering over the crescent of his hip bone while your hands make quick work of the single layer confine. Each new swath of skin is documented with fingers first then your mouth. It's slow work given the position but Wonwoo lifts his hips and assists until he’s bare and moaning your name on the first touch against his length.

Even in the coolness of the morning he’s burning. Wonwoo wants. Whatever you want, he wants too. Anything you give him he’ll take. The hunger for more worsens with each tease wherever you can reach.

His first mistake is touching you. Hair tickling his fingertips as he cups your jaw, thumb tracing the dip of your cheek as you suck him deeper. The gentle hum from the contact vibrating through his already weak willpower.

The second mistake is peeping where you lay between his legs when you come up for a breath only to find you already looking his way.

“Good?”

Wonwoo responds with a mute nod, trembling when you smile before taking his cock back in your mouth.

Your tongue flicks against his cockhead slowly. Content to focus the heat of your mouth there, a hand sneaks to jerk off what you’re neglecting.

A quick buck of his hips, completely unintentional, forces you to sputter.

Wonwoo scrambles to apologize, “Shit, sorry! I didn’t—oh fuck.”

The words die on his lips as you dive back in, swallowing him down the tight heat of your throat and leaving him there before pulling away with a gasp. His head digs into the pillow as you descend, taking more; Again and again and again until your nose brushes the smooth skin of his pelvis and you choke from another involuntary buck.

Eyes weighted, Wonwoo fights between wanting to watch the bob of your head and the instinct to pinch his eyes tight and feel. Your own choked hums are the siren song that pluck him apart until a hand stops your progress.

Grabbing himself on the next upstroke to prevent more torture, Wonwoo uses all his will to speak. “Wait.”

“Wait?” you huff.

Your tongue sneaks across the tip of his cock, lapping at the leaking slit with determination. Sticky on the next stroke, Wonwoo fucks himself into your mouth involuntarily.

“Come up here.”

“Don’t wanna,” you complain around a mouth full of dick before he can stop you.

Wonwoo pulls you off again, this time with a firmer hand and a glare he hopes silences your objections. Then, with the most pathetic sincerity he can muster, “Please?”

“Are you begging?” you goad. “Or asking?”

He doesn’t have the bandwidth for games right now. There’s a serious risk he’ll come in your mouth if you keep it up. The urge too lives in the back of his mind, haunting him since the first night you begged him to fuck your throat. But right now, after a night of denying himself the simple pleasure of burying his cock inside you, he needs more.

“Whichever will let me fuck you.”

“Say it again.”

Wonwoo chokes at the first attempt to satisfy your request. You're nasty. Licking at his cock again, undeterred by his hand preventing your greed from fully consuming him. But it’s not enough to stop you. You slip your tongue over the valleys of his knuckles, between his fingers. The wet heat of your mouth surrounds his thumb as you lash against it just to get another taste.

“What was that?” you whisper into his thigh, focusing your attention on his hip, nipping until he’s sure there will be a bruise in the shape of your mouth.

“Please let me fuck you.”

You fall to the side, scrambling for the bedside table for what he assumes is a condom. All of your back, your ass and thighs, left on display and Wonwoo takes advantage. Fingers following your curves, squeeze the supple swell of your rear until your breath stutters and your hips arch. He doesn’t stop there. Lips find your shoulder, trailing up until he can nip at your ear and his hand curves around between your thighs.

Fingers slipping through the mess, your head falls lip while Wonwoo repays your early morning favor. A ghost across your clit that sends you rocking back into his cock. “God,” you whimper as the heel of Wonwoo’s palm grinds harder. “Wonwoo.”

The sound of his name rasped on your tongue makes him hot. Wonwoo could finger you like this for the rest of morning if you let him; teeth bruising your neck, cock sandwiched between your ass and his stomach, the subtle friction enough for him to cum if he didn’t need you so badly.

But you won’t have it.

You push off his grip, turning until you’re face to face for another kiss that's too dirty for the early hour; generous with affection like you’ve got all morning to cover him in it. It’s the perfect distraction as you roll the latex down his length, and plant yourself in his lap.

It’s deep. Deep enough he feels the punch in his own gut as he splits you in half. You focus on his neck after a grunt breaks the kiss, overloading his senses. A few experimental swivels of your hips force his own to rise, keeping himself as deep as possible.

Riled from your mouth, Wonwoo is already on the precipice of finishing. Even through the condom he can feel the delicious heat of your walls clamped on his cock. The trickle of your pleased sighs into his ears don’t help either.

“Fuck, fuck, shit,” Wonwoo bites.

He tries to swallow back the rush of want, focusing on getting you caught up to where he clings so desperately to sanity. Gripping your waist, hands rough enough he’ll apologize later, Wonwoo uses the leverage to fuck roughly. One hand focuses a messy rhythm across your clit.

But it's no use. Thighs rushing up, Wonwoo’s end hits before he can warn you. You scramble for purchase from the rough jerking threatening to dislodge you and in the chaos you end up pinned to his chest as he cums.

All you can do is blink. Wonwoo stares back, hair matted to his forehead, pinked skin peeking through the sweaty locks, eyes rounded with his own shock.

“Well,” you pant, rolling to the side. “That's flattering.”

The stickiness between your thighs still burns hot; unfulfilled by such a quick ending. But he’s earned it after last night. Goosebumps flicker across your body from the cool air as you stare at the ceiling and clear the morning fog from your brain.

“Sorry, I’ve nev—”

You swat at his side. “It’s okay. Promise.”

Wonwoo’s quick enough to snatch it, fingers intertwining and preventing you from poking him in the ribs again. Laying side by side, shoulder to shoulder, your eyes slip shut. You pretend to ignore the way he moves over you, flattening his body atop yours.

A kiss on your collarbone, another between your breasts. His mouth trails to your nipple, sucking until you squirm before moving to give the other one the same treatment of teeth and tongue. It barely eclipses the feeling of his thumb searching between your thighs.

He descends lower when you start shaking. Lips blazing across your stomach and hips, lazy like there’s all the time in the world. Nerves short circuiting, you arching everything he has to offer; until his mouth replaces the hand between your thighs.

It’s slower than last night. Wonwoo savors the taste of you, tracing all the parts that make your vision blur with shocking ease. You encourage him to focus in the right spots with a hand knotted in the base of his hair, thighs crushing to the sides of his face when he delivers exactly what you need.

A wiggle of his tongue on your clit distracts from the fingers sinking inside; one before he adds a second. Not as satisfying as his cock but the bend and curl with the right rhythm for your hips to buck.

He isn’t goading or punishing. None of the usual quips that accompany him between your legs spill from his mouth. When you grind up into his face he flattens his tongue and lets you; when you tell him to give you more he does, a third finger joins the mix as he sucks your clit until you cry.

“Just like that, fuck I—” you choke. “Wonwoo, please, don’t stop.” You hump his face, feet planted on the bed for more power as you pull tight across his mouth.

A last rough curl of his fingers across your walls breaks the dam. Eyes rolling back, you savor the feel of him bullying your insides until everything explodes in flashes of white. Wonwoo does right and keeps playing with you until pushed away but not before sneaking a last lick to your bundle of nerves just to watch you shake.

Wonwoo rises with a cocky smirk before dropping back into your chest. He nuzzles down into the cradle of your throat, face still wet but you don’t have half the mind to complain. You don’t have any mind at all from the wet kisses he paints into your skin.

Sleep comes easily; carried by the lull of calming breaths and the waves still flooding your system.

The second time you wake up, Wonwoo is still asleep across the bed. It makes slipping away to the bathroom for clean up easier, but your eyes continue to glance at him as you move across the room for a fresh set of clothes. His back faces you so only the mangle of hair at the crown of his skull and the broad expanse of shoulders are exposed. The memory of the morning after your first hook up plays in your mind. Embarrassment, anxiety, the rush to be anywhere but his bed.

Now it’s the lazy weight of an early orgasm and a good night’s sleep. If the afternoon wasn’t booked, you’d be sorely tempted to lay back down and sleep the day away next to him.

A fast shower wakes you enough that fatigue can’t seduce you back beneath the sheets. The first time in weeks you aren’t plagued by racing thoughts, mind blissfully empty as you wash away the remnants of a satisfying morning. You leave the bathroom dressed and prepared for the mess waiting in the rest of the apartment.

Fishing your phone out of the trail of discarded clothes from the night, you see a litany of messages waiting to greet you. But only one catches your attention.

Em: tickets for the new exhibit are at willcall! I got an extra in case lisa wanted to come

Wonwoo’s voice makes you jump. “Big plans for today?”

You watch him wince out of the corner of your eye as he rounds the corner of the hallway, dressed in the new pair of sweats you left on the corner of the bed before leaving, chest still bare.His hair is more of a mess than what you left him with, and he bounces from one foot to the other. Good to know you’re not the only one out of their depth.

Rather than stand idle, you race to keep your hands busy in an effort to fend off the awkwardness.

“Ugh, yeah.” You pop bread into the toaster. Two slices, just in case. “My friend got me tickets to this new exhibit at the museum downtown.”

He moves for his phone on the couch scrolling through messages from the evening. “Oh, cool.”

You hum agreement into your coffee cup.

The silence of the kitchen is stifling. Not ten minutes ago you curled up in bed with him but without the guise of sex there doesn’t seem to be anything tying you together. The pop of the toaster almost sends your coffee cup flying.

“It's, um, a really cool exhibit. She’s been curating it for the past two years.” You say while putting together a sham of breakfast. “It’s the first exhibit they’ve let her do solo.”

“Impressive.”

“Yeah.” You wince. “I’m gonna get dressed so…”

“Yeah.”

Mirroring last night, you shuffle to the reprieve of your bedroom. Locked in, the crumpled sheets of your bed pointedly stare at you; the scene of the crime. If you look too closely there's traces of the dip in the mattress where you both fell together.

But you won’t look because the suffocating tension in your chest is bad enough without reliving the past hour. From tangled in a lover's embrace to the inability to look each other in the eye.

You dress quickly. Warm enough to fight off the rain beginning peppering against your window and the winds that will no doubt come with it. In the mirror you still look fucked. The unmistakable glow of a morning on the right side of the bed; puffy lips, warm cheeks, and eyes glassy no matter how much you blink. There’s nothing to be done about that though so you grab your bag and return to the living room to deal with your guest.

The back of Wonwoo’s head sits over the couch. Slumped back like he’s given up in his fight against bad luck and ready to accept whatever fate the universe bestows.

“All good?” you ask, grabbing the now cooled mug.

A hand scrubs down his face, “Landlord can’t come until this evening.”

“Oh.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just go hangout at some coffee shop or whatever.”

He looks pathetic. Like last night in the hallway soaked to the bone. Unfortunately, you’ve got a soft spot for pathetic things with glasses and broad shoulders.

The words are in the air before you can bite them back. “You can come with me if you want.”

New tension fills the space. It curls around Wonwoo’s shoulders, slipping into that place in your stomach that’s suffered all morning. He turns slowly, failing to hide the shock that finds its way in the corner of his mouth.

Staring at one another, both surprised at the offer hanging in the air, it’s Wonwoo who speaks first.

“I don’t really have clothes for a museum.”

A true enough excuse. His clothes still sit in the washer from last night and the collection of wrinkled shirts and sweats sitting in the closet will get you killed; or worse, laughed at. There’s only one person who might have clothes in the apartment that would make the cut.

“Mingyu might have some clothes here. But if you’d rather not, that's fine.”

“Uh,” Wonwoo blinks. “Then sure, I’ll go.”

Abandoning the cup on the counter, you journey down the hall. Beyond the door to your room, then Amina’s and finally the last one. You step into Lisa’s room and dial her number. She picks up the call on the second ring.

“Helloooo?” She sings. Ears straining, you can hear Mingyu’s mumbling somewhere in the background.

You wade closer to the dresser on the far wall before responding. “Hey, does Mingyu have clothes here?”

After years of living together and sharing clothes, you know the first few drawers house nothing you wish to see. But rather than spend hours digging through the massive collection she’s amassed, you wait for an answer as you slide open one of the safer ones.

“Why? Are you planning to go as him for Halloween?”

Wedging the devices between your shoulder and cheek, you move to the next drawer containing more Lisa sized clothes and less Mingyu sized ones.

“Um, Wonwoo-is-here-and-needs-clothes.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Lisa pauses before screaming. “He’s there?” The volume makes you wince, dropping your phone as she continues to babble like a lunatic on the other side.

“What did you do? Rip his clothes off? I knew you were a little minx.” She hums.

“I didn’t—” you sputter. “He got locked out last night and stayed here. Did Mingyu check his phone?”

“He dropped his phone in the lake yesterday and it isn’t working. So you and Wonwoo didn’t have sex?”

Choking on the directness, you change the subject. “Anyway! Does Mingyu have clothes he can borrow or not?”

“You did! Was it on the couch? The kitchen?”

“We’re not freaks like you and your boyfriend”

“Oh so there's a ‘we’ now?” Lisa asks like a shark smelling blood.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” she sings. “Mingyu’s clothes are in the bottom drawer.”

Shutting the current drawer and dropping on your knees, you mumble. “Thank you.”

“Have fun on your date!”

“Drown.”

“Love you too.”

The line goes dead as you dig out a pile of shirts and pants. Mingyu nearly has his name on the lease next to Lisa so it’s no surprise he’s got half his closet here. Not that you mind since the nights Mingyu stays over come with a morning of homemade breakfast and a clean kitchen. If Lisa and Mingyu ever break up you’d consider kicking her out to let him move in.

You return to the living room with a stack of options cradled in your arms.

“Here,” you say, shoving them into Wonwoo’s chest. “We’ve gotta leave in like ten minutes if we want to make it on time.”

Wonwoo emerges from the bathroom with two minutes to spare. Mingyu’s clothes are too big for him but it works. A sweater you could only describe as “meet the parents” hangs off his shoulders, tucked in at the waist. You try not to ogle but he looks good; too good considering you know what lies underneath.

“Ready?” he asks, breaking your trance.

“Yep. C’mon.”

The car ride downtown gives Wonwoo plenty of material to strike up conversation but he falls flat every time his mouth opens. Luckily, you’re more than willing to fill the silence and he’s grateful.

He tries not to dwell on the fact this feels suspiciously like a date. Not just the sequence of events but the fact when you stopped for another coffee he immediately grabbed his empty pocket for the black leather wallet still on his kitchen counter. Or how he steps ahead to hold open the door when you reach the imposing white marble building downtown.

It doesn’t matter what it all feels like because Wonwoo doesn’t date. Not for lack of interest but some things in the world don’t work out and one of them is his love life. Further proof was the pained expression on your face when you invited him here; like you would have taken back the invitation in a second if you weren’t so polite.

“So what's the exhibit again?” he asks to fill the silence of the line at will call.

Today is a busy day for the museum. Students mill about between different groups. Couples young and old mixed between families. What do you two look like to them? A couple? Two friends that have seen each other naked but can’t manage a conversation afterwards? The idea has Wonwoo increasing the distance between you.

“Ugh, ‘Love: Immortal.’ It’s—”

“A collection of love, in all its forms.” Someone announces from behind.

A woman with dark hair approaches, obviously familiar to you from the way you greet each other. Wonwoo feels a fresh wave of discomfort at the way she cuts her eyes his way and then back to yours. Surprisingly, the way you shake your head makes him deflate.

“Alright, c’mon. Lots to see.”

She drags you two to the front, flashing a smile at the security guard before walking through without hassle.

“Benefits of knowing the head curator.” She turns to Wonwoo with a spark in his eye he recognizes from his interactions with Lisa. “Who are you?”

“Wonwoo.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Em, I’m sure you’ve heard nothing about me.”

You huff dramatically but the beginnings of a smile form on your lips.

“Y/N told me you’re in charge of the exhibit.”

“Wow, so you have heard of me! I like him better than the other one already.”

You turn to ice immediately. Shoulders tense, eyes burning. Wonwoo can only assume she means Seungcheol. He knows the barest details of the break up; he didn’t bother asking for information on something that wasn’t his business. Seungcheol didn’t like Wonwoo and he can’t say he was too fond of the older man in the few instances they interacted. Mingyu’s birthday party last year was the most recent time Wonwoo saw him and the entire night he couldn’t believe no one was feeling the same exasperation at turning every story into one about himself.

At least someone seems to feel the same way.

“The exhibit?” you grit.

Em leads you through the small crowds funneling towards the main room, to a closed off wing of the museum with several signs warning “EMPLOYEES ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.” Thick blue velvet curtains obscure the room beyond the final arch but she bats them aside and ushers you two through the opening before tossing them closed once more.

Frames fill the walls, evenly spaced with meticulous precision. Photographs in black in white, large canvases full of color. Across the floor, sculptures dominate the spaces; marble, bronze, one that looks like white sand from where Wonwoo stands.

“Well, you two have fun. I have to do some finishing touches on the brochures for tomorrow's benefactor showing.”

And like that he’s alone with you again.

At least this time he has the excuse of submersing himself in art. It isn’t something he has vast knowledge of but it’ll help dull the edge he still feels in your presence.

The first sculpture looks straight out of an Italian vacation catalog. Pure marble, dramatic and imposing as it greets you two. It’s impressive; the detail, the skill. Wonwoo may not understand what he’s looking at but he can admire people blessed with the talent to create it.

Warm sunlight pours in from the sky light, painting the figures in glowing buttery gold. The woman appears to be reaching up for the winged man, desperate, wanting. Her face is hidden but the man’s is angelic and serene.

A metal card sprouts from the ground at the foot of the statue.

Antonio Canova, “Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss.”

You split to circle the statue, taking in the smooth marble from all angles. Concentration bleeds across your brows, turning them into a soft scowl. Instead of staring, Wonwoo floats to the opposite wall, coming face to face with what might as well be a painting of the way you woke him hours ago.

Two lovers, curled in the sheets, share a passionate kiss frozen in time. It hollows Wonwoo’s stomach to think someone from decades ago could paint something so familiar. Capture a moment he took for granted in a second only to have it replay in his face.

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, In Bed, The Kiss.

Whoever this Henri guy is, Wonwoo doesn’t like him.

“What do you think?” you ask from his side.

Startling from your voice, Wonwoo is at a lose for words. “It’s…nice?”

“Nice?”

Scrambling for an explanation to the lie he decides on the obvious, “Like the colors and stuff.”

“Huh.”

He can’t help but feel he’s failed some kind of test. That something greater rode on his analysis of such a stifling painting.

“It looks like that one dude— Monet?”

“That dude Monet?” You snort. “He founded the impressionist movement so you’re not too far off.”

You’re already moving on to the next area when the initial sting of disappointment wears off.

More paintings, all lovers clutching in passionate embraces dot along the walls. Some are sequenced to tell a story. Some painfully longing, others with surprisingly obvious eagerness.

Wonwoo finds you again parked in front of one of the darker canvases. Your figure shields the entire image from view but it's okay. He finds himself observing the way your head tilts to the side, like the two hooded figures are the most interesting puzzle you’ve ever faced. It pulls Wonwoo in like a magnet, he wants to see what you see. Understand what makes it so fascinating even if he doesn't get it himself.

René Magritte, The Lovers.

Suffocating is the first thing Wonwoo can think of. Unsettling, scared. A litany of descriptions he’s felt looking at the other works around the room but this one leaves him reeling. He moves on before you can ask him how he feels.

Wonwoo doesn’t understand art, but apparently it understands him.

More pieces, cacophonies of colors and textures, swirls blending scenes into dreamlike scenes. Photos of couples, man and woman, woman and woman, man and man; all wrapped in embraces or staring fondly across the expanse.

Wonwoo works the way you came and you cover all the works he’s pretended to look at. The next time you collide in front of a dark painting near the end of the exhibit hall.

Edvard Munch, The Kiss.

“What do you think?” Wonwoo asks this time.

You stare at the canvas a moment longer before responding. “It’s one of my favorites so I can’t be unbiased.”

“Promise I won’t tell anyone.”

A conspiratory smile, there and gone in a flash, makes his heart squeeze.

“Munch was supposedly pretty ambivalent to love, at least that's what some people think, but I feel like this and his other paintings show the opposite. It feels jealous? You see other people blend together seamlessly and it feels that's what he wants. If you saw Kissing by the Window I think it’d be more obvious. If you look at any of his other work you’d see he wasn’t ambivalent to anything.”

“Anything I’d know?”

“The Scream?”

“Wait, really? Like The Scream?”

“Yeah, it was a few years before he painted this but he painted couples kissing since before that.”

“Huh.”

“What do you think?”

“Now that you say that, it feels like I’m watching my friends make out at a party.”

Dual shudders wrack your bodies, no doubt picturing your roommates.

Searching for a distraction, Wonwoo approaches the last piece of the collection. A dark bronze statue; two lovers, a man and woman, sit naked, wrapped in each other's arms. The placard on the floor reads: Auguste Rodin, The Kiss (Le Baiser).

Even though there's no movement, the desire is clear. It reminds him of this morning. How you sat in his lap, twisted in his embrace while he worked you up. For the first time, Wonwoo understands art. If he had the talent to immortalize the way you glow under his hands he’d do it.

The realization leaves his ears ringing, heart beating in a flurry.

Luckily, the only thing at the end of the hall is a photobooth. The sign next to it advertises the photos are free and the museum’s social media to share the pictures. You’re already making a beeline for the curtained side when Wonwoo decides to follow.

You scoot to the far edge of the seat, assuming he’s right behind. There's just enough room for him to fit in but the heat of your side into Wonwoo makes him sweat.

“Alright so we just press this and—oh!”

A flash of bright white startles you both as the machine quickly catches both of your startled expressions. The next one also catches you both off guard and so does the next. Wonwoo barely manages to smile in the last picture.

Peeking out from the curtain, he catches the strip of film falling into the dispenser tray and collects it for you both to inspect.

Surprise captured in blurry black and white photocards. Your mouth hangs open in almost all of them. Wonwoo’s eyes are shut in three of the four. As expected the final picture is the best but that's not much given the mess of the first three.

“Oh my god, you can see up your nose.” You cackle, fingers pointing at the second picture where Wonwoo’s barely a few inches from the camera.

He can’t argue. Instead he laughs too and points out how you’re crossed eyed in the third picture. You both howl with amused delight at the collection of silly expressions. And just when it’s under control, one of you snorts and starts laughing again until you're both breathless.

“Okay, okay. Let’s do a real one now.”

Settling in, you both wiggle next to each other to get comfortable despite the lack of space. Wonwoo’s arm finds its way around your waist simply because there's nowhere else for it to go. Same for your hand on his thigh as you lean forward and press the button again.

You're still too close to the camera lens when the first picture flashes but manage to lean back in time for the second.

“Now a silly one.”

You both move at the same time, heads colliding. Wonwoo jumps back, head hitting the hardwood wall behind him. The camera flashed again while stars danced in his vision. Like something in a movie, his eyes meet yours. Humor melts into something more serious. The urge to kiss you, to feel your lips against his, not from some primitive hunger but a different sort of long he felt all morning.

“You guys found the photo booth?” Em’s voice calls from beyond the curtain.

Wonwoo tries to hide his disappointment but you mirror it clear as day before he ducks out of the booth.

After your not-date with Wonwoo, you cherish the peace soon to be shattered that evening. Your roommates integrate you when they return from their trips. Amina first, pretending she has no knowledge of the unexpected guest until Lisa arrives an hour later. Her suitcase sits forgotten at the door, diving into a good cop bad cop routine over bags of takeout.

“Okay, so you hook up the night before, go to a lovers exhibit at an art museum the next day, get lunch afterwards, and you still don’t think it's a date?” Amina asks in disbelief.

“Nope.” You pop the ‘P’ for extra emphasis while dividing the steaming take out between three plates. The events of the early morning are one of the few details you kept secret. Mostly to preserve Wonwoo’s pride but also to keep more evidence from building your roommates’ case.

Lisa chews through her noodles. “Did he think it was a date?”

“No.” Maybe. What if he did? Wonwoo didn’t say anything, didn’t attempt to hold your hand like some might on a date, didn’t flirt with you or stand too close. The only thing to suggest otherwise was the almost kiss in the photobooth that didn't really count at all. He needed to kill time before being let back in his apartment and you were sympathetic enough to help.

But the strip of film, with blurry captures of you mid-sentence and Wonwoo’s shocked face, remains a secret, tucked under a pile of books on the shelf in your room. Another moment you feel protective of. Want it to exist away from prying eyes, just between you two after what was definitely not a date in an exhibit full of romantic paintings and sculptures.

The second strip of film is with Wonwoo. You watched him from the corner of your eye as he scooped it up while you focused your attention elsewhere. Anywhere that would keep away the idiotic warmth attempting to bloom in your chest.

“Mingyu said Wonwoo wouldn’t talk about it so maybe your right.”

“How is your boyfriend just as nosey as you?” Amina asks through her own mouthful of chicken.

“Hey! Mingyu is definitely the bigger gossip in our relationship.”

“Steep competition.” You snicker, joined by your other roommate when Lisa chucks a fortune cookie.

“Anyway,” Lisa claps. “You and lover boy should figure out if you’re dating now.”

“We’re not dating."

Another week passes in a blink; the same nonsense with work, roommates, and friends. But you can’t shake the feeling something has changed between you and Wonwoo. His endearingly awkward attempt at small talk over text didn’t help. Assuring you Mingyu put him under a microscope when he got home, random drivel about his work day, even asking more about some of the artists you showed him in the other exhibits at the museum.

But you aren’t dating Wonwoo. That’s the key fact. You aren’t in a relationship and you’re both free to do whatever you want with whoever you want. It’s the mantra you repeat in your head over and over as you watch another girl flirt with him at the bar over the rim of your drink.

She’s pretty. Pretty enough you can’t find a way to fault him for entertaining her while waiting for the next round. Confident too, tossing her head back as his mouth moves to respond to her quip. Nothing he said could be that funny. But she laughs wildly nonetheless and Wonwoo eats it up. One of her hands finds his arm, claws digging into claim him for the night.

Your buzz turns to a boil, fueled by alcohol and the green-eyed monster whispering in your ear. Wonwoo came with you. Technically not a lie because you arrived together with the rest of your group after meeting at his and Mingyu’s apartment. But Wonwoo hovered near you, his hand slipping further up your bare thigh as the night progressed. The unnamed woman can do whatever she wants because Wonwoo is at the bar to get you a drink. And it’s you he’ll sit back down next to. Or that’s what you tell yourself.

The details of Wonwoo’s face are indiscernible; if he’s smiling at her awkwardly, or laughing at her jokes, or looking at her with the same hungry expression you’ve been on the receiving end of. Granted the bar is dark and bodies crush in on all sides, obscuring your view to the point you try and peer around them without shame to watch the show. But she steps closer and Wonwoo isn’t stepping away.

Rather than continue your own torture through watching the display, your drunk brain forces your body to take action. The bar gets closer as you weave between the crowd with grace or shouldering through drunk partiers who pretend not to hear you ask for space.

Just enough space remains between Wonwoo’s body and the redhead for you to slide between them.

“Hi,” you smile with false sweetness.

Wonwoo doesn’t seem shocked as he smiles back after a beat. “Hi.”

“Um, excuse you?” the woman scoffs behind you. “We were talking.”

You don’t even need to speak before Wonwoo plucks the cup full of ice and lime wedges out of your grasp, passing one of the new drinks the bartender slides his way. Once he has his own, you’re led away while whatever-her-name-is stomps her foot in the background.

The dance floor bleeds out into the rest of the club but Wonwoo wedges you both deep enough that the walls of bodies all around offer some sort of privacy. Not that anyone is paying mind to another pair crammed close together, you two are simply one in dozens.

Chest to chest, the pulse of music lulls you into blind numbness beyond the warmth of his thigh between your own. The drag of muscle against your core with each sway. Firm hands guide your hips, teasing under the edge of your top before dipping back down. Your hands are far more teasing; one knotting in his hair, pulling until you can feel the rumble in his throat where the other rakes across.

Wonwoo focuses his own taunts across your face. A kiss to the corner of your mouth, your cheek, chin, temple, ear. Everywhere you want to feel him but not where you need him. The smirk of his lips against your jaw, a cruel mock at the way your hips buck eagerly from some light petting, sends a new wave of chills down your spine.

It's nothing worse than anyone else is doing but you feel naked. More exposed when you find his mouth against your own, tongue scorching between your teeth, dragging across your own to spread you thin. All you can think about is where he’s touching you, how easily he could dip his hand up the back of your skirt and find evidence of arousal in spades.

The bass dips to something slower, vibrating deep in your bones and any concerns for the public eye dissipates with it. You don’t know the song. It doesn’t matter if you did because the motions of your hips follow Wonwoo’s until you turn around. He doesn’t miss a beat when you turn and glue your back to his chest; hard against the seat of ass with his palm spread across your stomach to keep you firm against the next grind.

Wonwoo’s hand follows the heat of your thigh up and up and up until only the short hemmed skirt stands in the way. Skin glowing under the attention, you wiggle further back into his chest until he takes the chance. Wonwoo lets the sway of the music do the work, fingertips flat to the seam of your panties providing enough friction to drive you wild.

It’s too dark to see below your shoulders, let alone for anyone else to see where his hand works, but the risk of getting caught scorches your nerves.

Hot smokey air blurs your vision when you lean back to whisper an offer too good to refuse. The bar is on the same long street as his apartment, a quick walk to fuck in the comfort of a mattress. But as your eyes slip open to tempt him, Wonwoo is already looking at something far across the club.

Following his line of sight, you find your ex-boyfriend crowded in a booth, surrounded on all sides by familiar faces who became strangers in the aftermath of the breakup. Seungcheol isn’t looking at you because he’s in deep with some blonde; arm around her shoulder and chin tipped back. The same moves he used to get you.

But Seungcheol can’t be here because he’s halfway across the country. He wasn’t coming back. That’s what he said. He wasn’t coming back yet he’s sitting less than fifty feet away.

Your eyes finally manage to work again, scanning the others at the table and finding his best friend. Of course he’d come back for Jeonghan’s birthday.

It’s Jeonghan who looks at you first, not Seungcheol. His eyes drag above your head, where he must spot Wonwoo’s face given the way he fails to conceal a second of shock before looking away. Jeonghan leans towards Seungcheol’s ear and you don’t stay to guess what he’s saying.

The bar is too crowded, the music too loud. Too many people jostling you side to side while you navigate towards the hallway leading towards the bathroom. It’s dark, a few couples pressed against the walls; some chatting, others… reenacting what’s happening on the dancefloor.

Thankfully the bathroom is empty. After locking the door, you catch a glimpse in the mirror. Skin flushed with sweat, hands trembling, and heart racing. How much is due to dancing after a few rounds and what can be attributed to the anxiety of an unexpected run in with your ex is unclear. The coolness of a wet paper towel against your skin helps wash away some of the mess.

Pacing in a tight circle, you burn a rut into the floor.

You won’t be upset. You won’t. You aren’t. Whatever you had with Seungcheol is long over. Thoughts of him, rose colored memories, were nothing but the past. They didn’t bring the same misery as before, the longing to have him back or for a different reality. But your body refuses to have the same reaction now that he’s back in orbit.

A firm knock against the door startles you.

“Um– someone’s in here.”

“It’s me.”

Not Lisa. Not Amina. You unlock the door to find Wonwoo peering back. His eyes widen behind the frames of his glass as he eyes your state in the new lighting.

“Sorry, I’m—” you sniffle, cut off by the comfort of Wonwoo’s chest.

It’s awkward, arms pinned under his own and your nose jammed against his collar bone. You’ve never hugged Wonwoo, or seen him hug anyone else for that matter. But he’s trying.

The rhythm of his heart calms your own. On instinct, your arms circle the narrow part of his waist, melting into the weight of his hold. All the worries dull around the edges, softened with Wonwoo here; his face pressed into the crown of your head.

“Wanna leave?” he asks.

Nodding into his collar bone, you inhale the smell of his cologne. Sweat and beer and smoke from the bar also seep in but you hold tight anyway; cling to the comfort of his scent until you feel lighter.

Another knock at the door breaks you apart, but Wonwoo keeps you close with a squeeze.

“Occupied,” Wonwoo responds.

You imagine what the person beyond the door will think when you exit. Eyes glazed, shirts wrinkled, even Wonwoo’s hair is a mess from your fingers constant tugging earlier. Maybe you’d care less if the night wasn’t interrupted unexpectedly. But now you just want to run home and sleep.

This time when you step away, Wonwoo lets you. “Good?”

“Better,” you respond.

Ushering you out the door, you quickly find the person who knocked.

Seungcheol leans against the far wall, arms crossed in front of his chest. The massive silver watch he insisted on wearing staring you down. He looks exactly the same as the day he left albeit more inebriated. Face tinged pink, shirt wrinkled at the collar. The light pouring out from the bathroom highlights the smudge of lipstick on his throat.

And he’s staring Wonwoo down like he wants a fight.

He quirks an eyebrow. “So this is what you’ve been up to?”

The ability to speak evades you. What’s there to say? The first words you hear from him in months and the situation doesn’t paint a friendly light.

“Ya’ know, she let me fuck her in there too.”

Wonwoo stiffs at your back. It’s a half truth. Seungcheol wouldn’t fuck you in the bathroom after you asked but he left you suck him off. You don’t argue. The details won’t make you look any better. You doubt Wonwoo wants to hear it. Not after being so close to fingering you on the dance floor for everyone to see.

It’s embarrassing. You heat in the face once again but ignore the bait. Instead, you snag Wonwoo’s hand and pull him away. He fights for a second, a hesitant tug backwards while he sizes up the older man. If they want to fight, you aren’t going to play witness.

Wonwoo stays as you leave. Down the hallway, past the bar, and out the exit as quick as you came. Only the bouncer stands outside the bar in the chilly night, bidding you farewell as you follow the sidewalk home.

The cold sobers up whatever alcohol remains in your system before freezing you down to your bones. Rain lingers in the air, on the edge of falling so you pick up the pace. It’s a long walk but not an unwelcome one. Plenty of people fill the streets, pouring in and out from other bars or restaurants open to the late night crowd. Hopefully they’ve all had a better night than you.

A crack of thunder announces the sky’s descent. Fat raindrops soak you to the bone before you can dodge under an awning. Everyone scatters like ants, swarming for any safe haven available. Puddles the size of swimming pools flood the sidewalk; cars rip up waves to douse the unfortunate souls close to the curb.

It’s the kind of rain where the clouds fall all at once. Waves of thunder split in half from bolts of lightning. Raindrops bounce from the ground, sent sideways by the wind to soak your shoes. The pounding sound deafens everything else but not the embarrassment clouding around. All you want to do is get home, lie down, and forget everything in a tub of ice cream.

You thought you wouldn’t care about seeing Seungcheol after your break. Sure the brief shock would settle in but after that there wouldn’t be anything else. No hard feelings, no feelings at all. But the reality of these things is always worse than the way they play out in your head.

Seungcheol with a new girl like he’s done it a million times since your break up. Seungcheol wrapped in someone else’s arms, covered in someone else’s lipstick, without a glance your direction.

The more you think, the more you realize it isn’t seeing Seungcheol that freaked you out. Because you’ve been hanging around Wonwoo, spending nights wrapped in his arms, almost kissing him without the excuse of sex afterwards.

It’s having Wonwoo there to witness Seungcheol acting like an asshole. That he practically called you a slut to Wonwoo’s face, treating you like some object in their weird dislike for each other. It’s also the embarrassment that you dated Seungcheol to begin with. And how before you spotted Seungcheol you didn’t care about anything beyond where your body ended and Wonwoo’s began. All you wanted was to spend the night with him.

“Here,” a familiar voice rumbles next to you.

Wonwoo forces his jacket around your shoulders. Too tempted by the warm dryness, you accept without objection. The comforting scent of his cologne tickles your nose and you fit the urge to press into the collar for more. Instead you pull it tighter around your frame and watch the storm rage on.

“My place is on the next block.” Wonwoo says. “You can wait there until the rain stops.”

This time when you grab his hand, Wonwoo follows.

What Seungcheol said, what he implied, boiled Wonwoo’s blood. It wasn’t his business. It wasn’t anyone’s business. Maybe Wonwoo was jealous of what Seungcheol said, the power he still clearly had on you.

He hated that after you walked away Seungcheol’s eyes followed you down the hallway; the cocky expression on his face say ‘I won’ like you were a pawn in some fucked up game. In a way, Seungcheol had won. You scurried away like like being around Wonwoo was some sort of crime, leaving him to face the older man.

Wonwoo hadn’t take the bait. He was more concerned about where you’d end up in such a frazzled state that he only hesitated for a second rather than beating the crap out of your ex.

But right now, instead of dwelling on those unwanted feelings, Wonwoo focuses on not freezing to death in the storm. He sprints alongside you, kicking up more water that only serves to soak you both further. You take turns pulling each other under awnings and into doorways. A car passes by and sends a wave that splashes him in the face, knocking his glasses askew.

One glance at your face, shock pulling his features wide, sends you into a fit.

Hands on your knees, you keel over in laughter. Shoulders shaking, belly clenched cackling that confuses Wonwoo more than anything else tonight. More and more rain falls around you as you hunch over to catch your breath, only to choke on more shrill giggles.

Wonwoo starts shakes too. From the cold mostly. But then his head kicks back and he laughs at the ridiculousness with you. At the way you sway on unsteady feet, unable to breathe. At the utter insanity of the night you’ve shared together.

You fall into his arms, propping each other up the remaining distance to his apartment. Occasionally chirps break through; Wonwoo collapses, pulling you with him or vice versa teetering back and forth like a pair of drunk fools.

The metal of his front door is familiar once again but Wonwoo cages you against with new warmth in his chest. He could kiss you. He wants to kiss you, but he also want to stand here and laugh like kids sharing some silly secret for hours.

Settling for a quick peck against your chin, Wonwoo smiles again as your lips chase him. It squeezes something deep in his chest until it hurts. The corners of your own mouth strain along with his, warm pain because Wonwoo thinks he might like you.

More than a hookup. More than some casual fling that will dissolve in the next few months. Wonwoo likes you.

As he opens the door, ushering you inside and pulling off your soaked top, he really hopes you like him too.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi @sliceofwoozi @dokyeomkyeom @cheolism

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hitomisuzuya · 6 months

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scara smut halloween theme!

we’re carving pumpkins together and he has the idea to carve a little hole for his yk and he tells us to pull the guts out of the carved pumpkin but instead we grab his dick and things escalate from there

Halloween smut. Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Blowjob. Overstimulation. Pumpkin carving.

I wasn't very confident in myself when I wrote this, honestly..

Scaramouche scoffed you, rolling his eyes when you told him you wanted to carve a pumpkin for Halloween. "How childish," He said as he lifted the pumpkin onto the table. You'd chosen a pretty good sized one from the pumpkin patch.

You looked so excited about this silly little tradition that it was almost too cute.

"I love doing this every year," You said, picking up the knife. You stabbed it enthusiastically into the top of the pumpkin.

"Okay, no more knife for you," It was both incredibly sexy, and a little frightening to see you stab the knife into the pumpkin like that excitedly. He wasn't going to lie, it made him hard. "Find a pattern on your phone you want me to carve for you."

And he didn't want to risk you cutting your delicate little fingers either.

You pouted your lower lip out for a moment while scrolling through patterns on your phone. He looked relieved when you showed him a fairly simple pattern.

Scaramouche set to work carving the pumpkin. Honestly, he would never admit this, but this was fun for him. And maybe he wanted to impress you with his pumpkin carving skills.

"Huh? What's up?" You asked, seeing he was looking at one of holes for the eyes in contemplation.

He looked right at you, smirked and said, "What do you think it would feel like if I stuck my dick in there?

You immediately blushed."Scara, I don't think that would equal-" Why did boys have such a fascination for holes of any kind?

Before you could finish, he cut off you off with a scoff. His smirk however never left his face. "Go on, take the guts out," He crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow. "With your hand." He pushed the scooping spoon off the table when you reached for it.

The guts looked squishy and gross. If you weren't going to encourage him in his curious endeavor, then he wanted to see you squirm a little as payback.

"Scara, seriously?" You pinched the bridge of your nose.

"Do it~," He said teasingly. "What's the matter? Think it would be too gross." He laughed when you sighed and reached into the top of the pumpkin. You refused to let him dent your pride.

Scaramouche wasn't expecting his cock to twitch and throb hearing your fingers slosh around in the pumpkin as you scooped the guts out into your hand. "It sounds just like my fingers when they squelch in and out of your hole."

"Quiet from the peanut gallery," You replied, dropping the guts from your hand onto the plate. You looked at him, and saw the growing tent in his pants.

Your back talking only made his cock strain more in his pants. Scaramouche's eyes widened, his breath hitching in his throat when you dropped to your knees in front of him. At first he thought you were going to grab the scooping spoon off the floor, so he kicked it away under the table. "The guts aren't down there."

"No, they aren't. But, your cock is," You replied, looking up at him with a blush on your cheeks. His teasing warranted some payback of your own.

"Can't resist me long enough to carve a pumpkin, hm?" He purred, looking down at you as you unbuttoned his pants.

"Remember what I said about comments from the peanut gallery," You replied over Scaramouche's groan of relief when you took his cock out.

"Tch, listen here, you little-" He grit his teeth, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as you prodded your tongue on the head of his leaking cock. He grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling on it before he brought your mouth closer to his cock.

You sucked wetly on the tip, wrapping your hand around it and squeezing. That made his hips jerk forward. "Fuck, I almost cummed when you did that,' He groaned, forcing your mouth down on his cock.

Your eyes widened, tears stinging in your eyes as he abruptly pushed his cock into your throat. It throbbed in your mouth, your throat spasming as your coughed. You adjusted your breathing, vibrating a long moan on his entire length.

You flattened your tongue on the vein that bulged to the surface, sucking when Scaramouche started thrusting into your mouth. The more pleasure your mouth brought him, the tighter he gripped your hair. He needed to do it to ground himself because you always sucked him off exactly how he liked it.

Messy and sloppy. Drool poured from your mouth to soak into his cock, his thighs trembling as he fucked himself into your throat. You nuzzled his pelvis, making yourself choke on his cock. He whimpered in pleasure when you immediately started sucking again after you coughed.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," He cursed, holding your head in place, mindlessly thrusting into your mouth. "Don't stop sucking until I cum," He tugged on your hair. "You know I fucking love it when you moan pathetically on my cock."

You vibrated a pleased moan along his length, bobbing your head up to suck on the tip again. After a few moments, he hastily stuffed his cock in your mouth again, filling your mouth with cum.

Your mouth felt utterly worshipping as you sucked him off through his orgasm. However, your kept your hands on his thighs when he let go of your hair. Remember that payback?

You didn't stop sucking. This payback was coming in the form of overstimulation. You ground your mouth on his cock, making him whimper louder as he leaned against the wall. His knees shook and nearly buckled.

Scaramouche's head was starting to spin, the dull ache of overstimulation washing over him. He could barely find coherent words, the curling and licking of your tongue as you sucked was nothing short of exquisite to him.

He rubbed his fingers through your scalp, whimpers bleeding into moans. Panting he pulled your mouth off of his cock, looking down at you with a lustful glare. "You have 5 seconds to breathe before I fucking cum down your throat again.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #modern au

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mooshywrites · 2 months

Text

Echoes of Love and Loss ~ Pt 4

Fem!Reader x Halsin

Masterlist

Art Commissions

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A/N - This is the second to last part! Because of that, I’m taking suggestions for another series since I really enjoy this format. Shoot me a DM or send in a request if you have a good prompt <3

Word count - 4.1K

Warnings - Lots of angst, grieving, pregnancy, miscommunication, happy ending incoming I promise

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Part 2 ~ NSFW

Part 3

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“I have to find her”

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Your days began to blur together in a haze of numbness. You’d long since shed all of the tears and felt all of the grief you could muster. All that was left was your survival instinct pushing you forward.

It took a considerably shorter amount of time to return to the Druids grove where you began your adventure, the road from Baldur’s Gate being far more safe now that The Absolute was gone.

Every settlement you passed through was filled with people celebrating. Their cheers and drunken ramblings washed over you without another thought, completely oblivious of what you had lost bringing them this new victory.

When you finally made it to the outskirts of the grove, something stopped you. You were so close. Close enough to even hear the faint chatter of the Druids that lived there.

But there seemed to be some sort of invisible wall between you and them. A heavy stone keeping you grounded from taking the few steps forward.

What would you say when the other Druids inevitably asked about Halsin? Would you be able to handle their unease and pity when it came to your condition? Would they see as you as anything more than the so-called hero who let their friend die?

You gritted your teeth, clutching at your chest as your heart began to pound. The world felt as if it was spinning as the turmoil hit you once again. You swallowed back bile, knowing you had only made your health worse by pushing yourself to get here more quickly.

With a few solidifying breaths, you sighed and turned away. You couldn’t stay here.

There was a small hut in the woods north of the grove. That would have to do for now.

The walk there was short, you might’ve even enjoyed the weather if the situation you found yourself in didn’t continue to bear down on you painfully. When the hut came into view, you grimaced.

It was… definitely a fixer-upper.

It was probably for the best, you’d have something to focus on. You could work through the day to make it a suitable home for you and the baby instead of wallowing in your grief.

You had to be strong for the little one after all.

You began work right away, throwing your bag on a rotted wooden table and surveying the inside of the shack. At least the walls seemed strong, the wood stood up to the elements. You could see a few patches that would need to be filled with straw for colder weather, but the wood burning stove in the corner gave you a little bit of hope.

Cobwebs littered the corners, a faint layer of dust settling over the entirety of the one room hut. You peered closer to find a straw broom tucked away, practically calling your name.

You set about cleaning the cabin, determined to make it a safe haven for you and your baby. The dust and cobwebs were easy enough to deal with, and you spent hours scraping the grime off the walls and furniture until you could hardly recognize the shack from when you first entered.

As night fell, you lit the wood burning stove, filling the small space with warmth and the scent of fire. You examined the table and decided it was too far gone, so you set to work constructing a new one from scraps of wood and nails, using the old table as a pattern. You worked tirelessly through the night, the pain in your legs and shoulders a constant reminder of the sacrifices you'd made to get this far.

The end product was definitely not a masterpiece, but you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride in your lopsided creation.

The days turned into weeks, and slowly but surely, the hut began to take shape. You built shelves, repaired the roof, and even managed to create a small loft for you and the little one on the way.

By now, your bump was definitely more noticeable. A healthy swell of your stomach growing now that you were forcing yourself into a healthy diet of at least three meals a day.

With your hut becoming more of a home, you found yourself slipping into a routine. You would wake up early to tend to the garden you'd started behind the place, growing vegetables and herbs that would provide sustenance and comfort.

Afternoons were spent working on the cabin, always striving for perfection despite the humble beginnings. You discovered a sense of peace in the solitary task, even if you mostly didn’t know what you were doing.

As night fell, it was harder to ignore the ache of loneliness and loss that settled in your chest. You would try to ease the pain by humming a song to your growing bump or reciting all the children stories you knew out loud.

To your delight, sometimes you would even feel a flutter of recognition when you sang, a tiny stirring in your womb. It was barely perceptible, very much not a kick yet, but it was still a comforting reminder that you weren’t totally alone.

As the weeks turned into months, the hut became a testament to your strength and resilience. The once-dilapidated structure had blossomed into a cozy home, with warm lighting in the evenings and shelves laden with the vegetables and herbs you'd grown in your garden. A sense of contentment washed over you as you looked around your little sanctuary, realizing that no matter the heartache and loss, you had managed to build a life for yourself despite the circumstances you faced.

The days seemed to stretch into an endless cycle of gardening and remedying, and soon enough, you could feel the baby moving more frequently within you. The sensation was both reassuring and overwhelming, filling you with a mix of love and fear for the little person growing inside of you.

One morning, as you were picking vegetables from your garden, you caught a faint glimpse of movement at the edge of the woods. Your instincts kicked in, and you darted back to the door, retrieving the sword you kept hidden. It was probably long since dulled from not being used, but it was better than having nothing.

No one came close to this part of the woods, even with its close proximity to the Grove. It seemed you had found your own little patch of solitude and you were weary of having your first visitor since you moved in months ago.

You focused in on the movements at the tree line, your shoulders tight. A figure shambled out of the greenery and you choked out a breathless laugh of relief.

“I thought I might find you nearby.” Shadowheart giggled, calling out across the short clearing.

“What on earth are you doing here?” You smiled, relaxing your posture. “You gave me a scare.”

She gave you a bright smile as she approached, taking stock of your now very obvious baby bump.

“I couldn’t help but trying to check on you. The others and I got an invitation from Withers for a reunion.” Shadowheart said with a shrug.

“The others?” You prodded uneasily. You looked toward’s the tree line again, worried they would come crashing through as well.

“Relax.” Shadowheart assured, her smile a little sad. “I told them what you wanted me to. They don’t know a thing about your ‘miraculous survival’.”

“Oh, good.” You sighed, brushing yourself off. “Want to come in? I could scrounge up a breakfast for you.” You tried to keep the hopefulness out of your voice, mildly embarrassed by how excited you felt at the thought of having someone else to talk to.

“Sure,” Shadowheart grinned. “I‘ll ask you what I came to ask you over some food.”

You stepped back, allowing Shadowheart to enter the hut. It was cozy and warm, the wood burning stove crackling in the corner. She looked around in amazement. “You did all this?” she asked, looking at the handmade furniture and shelves laden with herbs and vegetables.

“Yes,” you said, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants. “I’ve been keeping myself busy.”

Shadowheart approached your makeshift table, running her hands along the rough surface. “It’s beautiful.” she murmured, looking at you with awe.

“Thanks.” You smiled shyly,

“So, how are you holding up?” She asked, sitting down on a hand-built stool. “And how’s the baby?”

“I’m doing okay.” You sighed, sitting across from the woman. “The baby is too. Although it’s grown so much that I can’t see my feet anymore.”

“You must be getting close then.”

“Mhm.” You responded, not offering anything else. You weren’t keen on discussing the actual birth. You still hadn’t decided on whether it was responsible to handle it on your own or not. In truth, you were completely out of your depth.

“So what is it you wanted to ask me?” You changed the subject with a grin.

Shadowheart’s face became guarded and she paused for a moment, as if trying to piece the words together.

“I want you to come with me to the reunion.” She whispered.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the words hung in the air.

“You can’t live alone forever.” Shadowheart continued after a moment of silence. “This place is wonderful and I’m glad you’re doing as well as you are, but you can’t force yourself into solitude.”

“Stop.” You cut her off, feeling the telltale dull ache of a migraine coming on. “You already know my answer.”

“Please, at least think about it.” Shadowheart pleaded, reaching across the table for your hand.

“Stop.” You repeated, slipping your hand away from her grasp. “Just stop.”

You felt tears threatening to well in your eyes and you cursed the hormones that made the tears so easy to spill.

“I’m not facing them. Not after losing Halsin.”

“But.” Shadowheart started before you cut her off with your hand.

“My answer is no.” You snapped before your voice softened. “I think you should leave.”

You adverted Shadowheart’s pointed gaze, feeling her eyes bore into you still. With a sigh, she nodded slowly. You looked back to see a mix of disappointment and understanding across her features.

She stood up and walked over to the door, her gaze still locked on you.

“I understand. Please know I’m here for you if you ever change your mind.” She said softly before leaving.

You watched her go through the open doorway, the silhouette of her figure disappearing into the dense forest. The words she’d said hung in the air, making you feel a twinge of guilt. There was probably a softer way to handle that conversation. A compromise you could have made.

For a moment you sat at the table in the middle of the room, staring blankly at the empty doorway. Your mind was whirling, trying to understand your own feelings and determine what was best for your tiny family.

It was a delicate balance, trying to protect your baby without pushing your grief and expectations onto it.

You took a deep breath and stood up, picking up your gardening tools once again.

There was no time for such idle thoughts.

After all. There were carrots to pick.

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As Halsin trudged his way toward’s the Druid’s grove, he couldn’t help but focus on the nagging sense of dread that filled his body. He had spent months looking for you, asking everyone he saw in Baldur’s Gate whether they had seen anyone of your description.

But the answer was the same every time, always a no. The letters to his past companions remained unanswered, his messaging spell falling on deaf ears.

The Druid almost felt as if he was a ghost, a memory of what he once was that no one could really see. He tried to make sense of it, maybe everyone truly thought he had died in that ocean. Maybe they thought his letters sent by some sort of imposter.

Halsin gritted his teeth, trying to will himself to think of other matters. He needed to find you.

All Halsin could see when he thought of you was the look of pure terror on your face as he hurtled over the edge of the Elder Brain. The silent scream ripping from your throat as he lost view of you. He needed to replace that with something.

With anything.

More than anything, Halsin wanted to replace it with the sight of your smile when you finally saw him again.

Halsin felt weak as he continued to lumber along the path, too weak to even shift into his cave bear form, though he’d be much more comfortable traveling that way.

He hadn’t been focusing on his own needs lately, skipping sleep and meals to focus on finding you again. He was out of options now, and all he could hope was to find some sort of hint of your whereabouts from his fellow Druids.

As Halsin reached the grove, his heart raced with anticipation and desperation. He took a deep breath and stepped through the entrance, scanning the faces of his fellow druids with hope-filled eyes.

One by one, he approached each of them, greeting them with a warm smile and asking if they knew of any adventurers who had disappeared recently or anyone who might be looking for a missing companion.

The Druids, surprised to see him well… alive and seemingly pained by Halsin's persistence to change the subject , shook their heads and offered sympathetic words. They hadn’t seen you pass through

Halsin's hope began to dwindle with each negative response, his heart aching with every new face that met his eyes. He felt the dread building inside him once more, suffocating him as he trudged further into the grove.

Suddenly, a familiar sound caught his attention. A laugh. A laugh he knew well but couldn’t seem to place it in his weary state.

He blindly followed the sound, brushing by people as he tried to find the source. Finally, a brown haired man came into view, the figure laughing at whatever the man in front of him was saying.

Halsin stumbled as he finally placed the voice.

“Gale?” Halsin murmured.

Gale spun around, the wizard raising his eyebrows in surprise. He reached out to steady himself by holding onto Wyll’s arm, his face paled as if he was looking into the eyes of a ghost.

“Halsin?” Gale whispered, his eyes wide.

Wyll mouth hung agape as he looked at Halsin, seemingly unable to fathom that the Druid was now standing before him. That he was alive after his fall into the murky depths.

“Halsin! By the gods, it is you!” Gale exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace the Druid, his eyes shining with disbelief and joy. Wyll stood beside him, a mix of shock and relief etched across his features.

Halsin returned the embrace warmly, feeling a rush of emotions flood through him at the sight of his old companions. It was a moment he had dreamt about during his long search, but he never dared to pause long enough to hope for.

“How? How are you here?” Wyll stuttered out, still trying to process the unexpected reunion.

Halsin took a step back, a smile spreading across his face. “It's a long story,” he began, “but seeing you both here is a sign that Silvanus has brought us back together.”

Gale clapped Halsin on the shoulder, his eyes bright with excitement. “You have no idea how much we've missed you, old friend. We thought we had lost you for good after that nasty tumble.”

“I tried to write.” Halsin muttered, a teasing tone of annoyance in his voice.

“Would you have answered a letter from someone you thought dead?” Wyll asked incredulously.

“Perhaps not.” Halsin chuckled, pulling the Duke into a hug.

The reunion lifted some of the weight that had been pressing down on Halsin for so long, if only for a moment. The two men before him began chattering on endlessly about what they had been up to, their adventures and misadventures.

But amidst the talking, a shadow continued to loom in Halsin’s mind. He couldn’t shake the thought of you, the one he had really set out to find in the first place. Despite the happiness of being back with his companions, he really only wanted to see one person. There were so many things he wanted to say. so many promises he wanted to make.

“I’m sorry to interrupt.” Halsin cut off the conversation for a moment, looking between both Gale and Wyll. “But is Tav with you? I’ve been looking for her everywhere, but it seems no one has seen even a glimpse of her.”

Gale and Wyll exchanged uneasy glances. Wyll cast his eyes off to the side, taking in a deep breath as Gale fidgeted uncomfortably.

Halsin couldn’t help but feel his stomach start to turn at the reaction. Unease starting to mix with agitation.

“Well?” He pressed.

“Halsin…” Wyll started, throwing Gale one more glance. “I think this is something we should speak of in private.”

Halsin’s eyebrows furrowed, unease quickly being replaced with dread. Whatever they had to say couldn’t at all be good. Not with the way Gale’s teeth ground tight and Wyll’s hands wrung against each other.

“No. Tell me now.” The Druid demanded.

“I really think-“ Gale started.

“She didn’t make it in the crash.” Wyll said quietly.

Halsin felt the world around him crumble at Wyll's words. The ground beneath his feet seemed to shift, the air around him growing heavy and suffocating.

You were gone.

The realization hit him like a physical blow, knocking the breath from his lungs.

His mind raced, trying to process the devastating words. You, the one he had searched for tirelessly, the one he had longed to see again, were no more? The image of your smile, your unwavering determination, your fierce loyalty flashed before his eyes, each memory twisting the knife of grief deeper into his heart.

Wyll's voice sounded distant as he continued to speak, explaining the details of your fate in the crash. Halsin felt as if he were trapped in a nightmare, unable to wake up from the cruel reality that had caught him.

Gale's hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present moment. The wizard's eyes pained. “You should talk to Shadowheart. She was the one to see it.”

Halsin's mind reeled, his heart heavy with grief and disbelief over your loss. The world around him seemed to blur as he struggled to come to terms with the crushing reality of your absence. Despite the comforting presence of Gale and Wyll, their words felt like a distant echo in the overwhelming silence that engulfed him.

Numbly, Halsin nodded at Gale's suggestion to speak with Shadowheart. He knew he needed answers, needed closure. Nothing else would convince him that he truly lost you. With leaden steps, he made his way through the grove, his thoughts a whirlwind of memories and shattered hopes.

When he finally found Shadowheart, she looked at him with utter shock. The two stood looking at each other in silence for a moment, rendered speechless for very different reasons.

“Halsin? But I thought you… but the crash…” Shadowheart stuttered, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Is she really gone?” Halsin choked out.

Shadowheart’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion before realization dawned on her. Halsin’s eyes stayed glued to the ground below him, not seeing the conflicted emotions playing across Shadowheart’s expression.

“I think you need a healer.” Shadowheart whispered softly.

Halsin shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “No healer can mend this kind of wound,” he replied hoarsely, his voice thick with grief. The thought of you bore down on him like a heavy cloak, suffocating him with memories of shared moments and unspoken words.

Shadowheart’s gaze softened with sympathy as she reached out to touch Halsin’s arm.

“You need a healer.” She repeated. “Rest and heal tonight. I’ll…” She paused, her face twisting in concentration as she was obviously conflicting with her thoughts. “I’ll take you to where we set up a shrine for her. But not until you’ve had some rest.”

Halsin felt a mix of gratitude and reluctance at Shadowheart's offer. The idea of seeking solace in a makeshift gravesite sounded like a temporary respite, a bandage on a wound that cut deep into his soul. But he knew he needed to gather his strength, to find a way to honor your memory even with the weight of your absence heavy in his heart.

As the night descended upon the grove, Halsin found himself alone in the quiet darkness, surrounded by the hushed whispers of nature. Memories of you flooded his mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of what once was and what could have been. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed you somehow, that he should have been there to protect you from whatever fate had befallen you.

Tears welled up in Halsin's eyes as he sat beneath the starlit sky, a silent prayer whispered into the night for your spirit to find peace wherever it may roam. That wherever you had passed on to would have a view of the same stars he gazed upon now.

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You awoke with a stretch, rubbing the ache out of your hips softly. It took a little more effort to get out of bed with your bump, your center of gravity becoming difficult to gauge.

With a yawn, you looked out the small open window, taking in the bright peace of the morning. Birds sang throughout the trees, melody winding through the sound of the leaves in the wind.

You let your eyes flutter shut as you ground yourself, inhaling the faintly sweet scent of wildflowers. You started most mornings off this way, determined to start the day with positive and uplifting thoughts.

That and because the serenity of nature made you feel closer to Halsin without the painful ache of longing.

You shuffled off the small bed, stretching once more. You had definitely overslept today, your morning chores would be getting a much later start than usual.

You went about your morning routine with a sense of purpose, softly chiding the swell of your belly to not make the day too hard on it’s mother.

Your mind drifted away as you worked, absentmindedly wondering whether the baby would be a boy or a girl. You’d heard old wives tales about whether the bump sat low or high correlating to the gender, but you really couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter too much in the end, all you could hope for was a safe delivery.

While you were tidying your makeshift kitchen, you heard the soft crunch of footsteps approaching the cabin door. You left it open during the day, letting the cool forest air in. It would be impossible to miss any movement with it open, your ears too trained to sense change.

You sighed, figuring it was Shadowheart trying to convince you to join the land of the living once again. You tried to steel yourself, silently promising to be a little more agreeable this time even if your answer hadn’t changed.

“It’s still a no, Shadowheart, I don’t-“

You turned to the doorway and your words caught in your throat.

You stood absolutely still and silent, sure that your eyes were playing tricks on you.

Could it be possible? There in your doorway…

There stood Halsin.

You clutched at your chest, taking a tentative step back as you tried to make sense of what you were seeing. Halsin’s expression seemed to match your own. Silence, tense and heavy settling between you.

“Halsin?” You whispered, your voice cracking with uncertainty.

He stood there in the doorway, his gaze locked with yours, a mix of similar emotions seeming to swirl in his own eyes. The weight of his presence in the room felt palpable, like a storm brewing on the horizon, ready to unleash its fury.

You felt a surge of conflicting emotions wash over you - disbelief, hope, confusion. How could he be here after all this time? After everything that had happened? Your heart pounded in your chest, the silence stretching between you like an unspoken barrier.

Halsin took a hesitant step forward, as if afraid that any sudden movement would shatter the fragile moment hanging between you. His voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke your name, as if testing the reality of the situation.

You found yourself at a loss for words, your mind reeling with questions and doubts. Was this some trick of fate, a cruel illusion playing with your heart? Or was he truly standing before you, his towering figure all too large for the tiny doorframe you had made your life in?

Halsin’s eyes remained glued to yours as you stood, his lips parted as he seemed to search for the words he wanted to say. His eyes flitted to the ground before he went rigid.

You watched, breath caught in your throat as Halsin’s gaze locked onto your stomach.

Onto the soft swell of his child growing inside of you.

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Part 5 ~ End

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