#Sound Lounge Studios

[satellite-evans]

Caught in the Act

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Benedict and his wife, his muse, are interrupted by his mischievous sister Eloise during a private painting session.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: fluff, Eloise being a tease

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The Bridgerton residence was always buzzing with activity. Whether it was the younger siblings running through the halls or the older siblings preparing for yet another social event, there was never a dull moment. Amidst this lively chaos, Benedict Bridgerton found his moments of peace and creativity in his art studio, tucked away in a quiet corner of the estate.

It was in this sanctuary that he often invited you, his beloved wife and muse, to pose for him. Today was no different. The soft afternoon light filtered through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Benedict stood at his easel, his eyes intensely focused on the canvas before him. You reclined on a chaise lounge, draped in a delicate, nearly translucent gown that accentuated your natural grace and beauty.

"Benedict," you murmured, your voice laced with a hint of anxiety, "are you sure it's not too risky to do this here? Anyone could walk in."

He looked up from his work, his gaze tender as he regarded you. "We’ve done this before without any issues. Besides, the light in here is perfect, and you look absolutely stunning. Trust me, my love, everything will be fine."

You sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Alright, but if we get caught, I'm blaming you."

He chuckled, a deep, soothing sound that always managed to calm your nerves. "Fair enough."

The room settled into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the soft swishing of Benedict's brush and the occasional rustle of your gown. You admired the way his brow furrowed in concentration, his hand moving with practiced ease. It was in these quiet moments that you felt closest to him, sharing a connection that went beyond words.

ust as he was about to add the finishing touches, the door to the studio burst open. Eloise Bridgerton, ever the inquisitive and outspoken sibling, strode in without a second thought.

"Benedict, have you seen—" She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she took in the scene before her. "Oh."

Benedict froze, his brush hovering in mid-air. You quickly pulled the shawl you had draped over your shoulders tighter, your cheeks flushing with mortification as you realized just how exposed you were.

"Eloise!" Benedict exclaimed, clearly flustered. "Ever heard of knocking?"

Eloise's shock quickly gave way to a mischievous grin. "I didn't realize I needed to knock in my own home. But now I see why I should."

You buried your face in your hands, feeling utterly mortified. Benedict, on the other hand, looked equally embarrassed. He set his brush down and moved to stand protectively in front of you.

"Eloise, what do you want?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"I was looking for a book," she said, still grinning. "But I suppose it can wait."

Benedict sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yes, it can. Now, if you don't mind—"

"Oh, don't worry," Eloise interrupted, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I'll leave you two lovebirds to your... art."

With that, she turned on her heel and left, closing the door behind her with a soft click. You and Benedict stared at each other for a moment before you buried your face in your hands again.

"I can't believe that just happened," you groaned, your voice muffled.

Benedict gently pulled your hands away from your face, his eyes filled with concern. "I'm so sorry, my love. I should have been more careful."

"You think?" you replied, half-joking, half-serious. "I am never posing in this house again. That was mortifying."

Benedict hugged you tightly, his arms offering comfort. "I promise, next time we'll find somewhere more private. But you have to admit, it does make for a memorable story."

You couldn't help but laugh despite yourself. "I suppose so."

Later that evening, the Bridgerton family gathered for an informal dinner. The aroma of roasted meats and fresh bread filled the air, mingling with the sound of cheerful conversation and laughter. You sat beside Benedict, your hand resting comfortably on his under the table.

Eloise, ever the mischief-maker, caught your eye and winked. You felt a blush creep up your neck as you recalled the earlier incident. Benedict squeezed your hand reassuringly, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your skin.

"So, Benedict," Eloise began, her voice dripping with innocent curiosity, "how's your latest painting coming along?"

Benedict shot her a warning glance, but she merely raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the moment. "It's coming along quite well, thank you," he replied evenly.

"Oh, I'm sure it's wonderful," Daphne chimed in, not noticing the undercurrent of the conversation. "Your work is always so impressive."

"Indeed," Anthony added, his tone more serious. "You've truly found your calling, brother."

Violet Bridgerton, ever the attentive matriarch, picked up on the tension. "Benedict, dear, you should show us your latest work soon."

Eloise leaned forward, her tone light and playful. "I suppose it's easier to be passionate when you have such a... captivating subject. Isn't that right, sister?"

You nearly choked on your wine, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I—um, well..."

Benedict shot Eloise a warning look. "That's enough, Eloise."

Eloise just smiled sweetly. "I'm only saying, you must find it very inspiring."

Violet's eyes twinkled with understanding. "Eloise, that is quite enough. Perhaps you should leave your brother and his wife in peace."

Colin, always quick to join in the fun, leaned back in his chair. "I'd love to see the painting. It must be quite the masterpiece if it has caused such a stir."

yacinth, always eager to be part of any conversation, piped up. "Can we see it, Benedict? Please?"

Gregory, not to be outdone by his younger sister, added, "Yes, show us! We promise to be quiet and not interrupt next time."

You buried your face in your hands again, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "Oh my goodness," you murmured, mortified.

You truly never felt so embarrassed in your entire life.

The conversation shifted to other topics, and the rest of the family seemed unaware of the underlying tension. You couldn't help but steal glances at Benedict, admiring his composure. Despite the earlier embarrassment, you felt a deep sense of pride in being a part of his world.

After dinner, as the family dispersed, Benedict took your hand and led you outside to the garden. The night air was cool and fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers. He guided you to a secluded bench, where you both sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

"I'm sorry about Eloise earlier," he said quietly, his eyes searching yours.

You shook your head, smiling. "It's alright, Benedict. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

He chuckled softly. "True. Still, I wish we could have more moments just for us."

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "We will. And until then, I'll cherish every second we have together, even the interrupted ones."

Benedict turned to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering. "You are my muse, my love. And I am forever grateful for you."

The moonlight cast a silvery glow over the garden, creating a perfect backdrop for the tender moment you shared. Wrapped in each other's arms, you felt an unspoken promise pass between you—a promise of love, support, and a future filled with countless more beautiful moments, whether they were stolen in secret or shared with the world.

[jyoongim]

~Blood & BLISS~

Human!Alastor x wife!Reader

Themes: 1930 based! Human!Alastor x wife!Reader, domestic life! fluff, smut, devotion, slight manipulation, mention of children, pregnancy,  blood, murder, secrets 

chapter two

Synopsis: Marrying New Orleans famous radio host had been a shocker to everyone. You, a southern belle from an esteemed family, had somehow managed to catch the attention of the mysterious bachelor. 

Your wedding was all in the papers and talk of the town, even though the ceremony was rather private.

You quickly settled in as the homemaker as Alastor brought home the dough and took care of you. 

It was a dream come true.

But Alastor was strange, even to you and you were his wife, but you brushed it off as him just being a man.  You had nothing to complain about. You lived in a nice big house, had the finest luxuries, and Alastor would dote on you. What wasn’t to love?

Well… all those things were nice, but you were starting to crave a family with your husband.

You knew of Alastor’s upbringing and had an inkling that children might not be an option…but Alastor wouldn’t deny you what you desired most would he? Of course not ma belle.

Alastor prided himself on how people often wondered about him. The renowned radio host, who the public rarely saw. He was a mystery to many. He frequented jazz lounges and often could be found drinking whiskey as he listened to the Mimzy gossip about the latest news.

He,  himself was shocked when he met you, the prettiest thing in the city. He had to have you. He knew you were the one.

Like the gentleman he was, he sent you flowers and love letters to begin courting you. He never tired of how shy you were around him. 

It wasn’t long before he asked your father for your hand and the two of you got hitched.

And what a wedding it was! he spared no expense to your disapproval.

Alastor was the epitome of what every husband inspired to be! 

Doting, providing, and attentive.

But he had a secret he kept from his little wife…

Can he maintain control over his domestic affairs and his sinister ones?

Soft jazz played in the background as you busied around the kitchen preparing dinner. The sizzling of the oil carried the scent of fried chicken as you chopped collards and added them to another pan to fry.

You hummed along to whatever song was playing as you cooked.

You took the chicken out of the grease, poured some of it in a can for later and used the rest to make cornbread. You stirred the collards a bit, adding pepper and a little salt before turning the stove off. You glanced at the clock; 6pm, Alastor should be coming home soon.

After putting everything in pretty dishes and wrapping it in foil you sighed tiredly as you finally got off your feet, plopping down on a couch.

You almost wanted to go back into the kitchen and clean up, but thought to just wait after dinner to do so. 

You perked as your radio made a noise, static as if the channel had changed, before the voice of your husband came through.

”Well folks that is all. I have for you tonight! I hope you enjoyed today’s broadcast and I will see you tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to be late for dinner nonono haha. Until next time!”

You smiled, feeling happy he wasn’t going to stay at the studio all night.

With that in mind, you quickly ran upstairs to freshen up, wanting to greet your husband without the smell of grease clinging to you.

“I’m home!” A voice called as the sound of the front door closing had you rushing downstairs.

Alastor was taking off his coat, when you greeted him “Oh let me take that” you smiled, grabbing his coat to put it away. He let out a relieved sigh as he removed his shoes and put them by the door. Once comfortable, his long arms were around your waist, pulling you into a kiss “And how was my beautiful wife today hmm?” He asked bringing a dainty hand to his lips. You giggled “Oh nothing worth mentioning. How was work today? I heard you signing off. I hate that I missed tonight’s broadcast” you mused, untying his bow tie. Alastor hummed “oh you know same ole same ole, through I will say I got a lot of fan mail today” he chuckled as you rolled your eyes. He took a whiff of the air and grinned “Hmm looks like I actually made it in time for dinner”

You both made your way to the kitchen and you immediately went to fix his plate, while he got glasses out of the cabinet and some red wine.

Alastor practically had drool coming out of his mouth as the smell of food wafted into his nose. You took a seat across from him and smiled. “My my my dear what a meal youve prepared tonight!” He commented as he took a bite out of the cornbread, moaning in delight.

It always filled your heart with happiness seeing Alastor eat your food. When you first got married, you didn’t have a clue on how to cook. It was rather embarrassing, but you had grown up with personal cooks.

But Alastor didn’t mind teaching you, and soon enough you were whipping up delicious meals that filled his stomach, rather than upset it.

Dinner was quiet as the two of you enjoyed each others company, Alastor making comments about the lastest gossip he had heard and you catching him on the neighborhood gossip. “Oh before I forget,  Mimzy wants to know if you wanted to swing by the lounge this weekend. Something about I keep you to myself too much” Alastor laughed, swiping at his mouth. You laughed, that sounded like Mimzy. Always hoping to get a chance at you singing on stage so she could make a few extra bucks. “Well tell ‘er not this weekend, I have plans to host a few of the ladies for book club. Rosie is sure to have some gossip I’ve missed.” 

Alastor quirked a brow “You sure dear? I fear Mimzy will chew me a new one if she don’t get to see ou” You mulled it over “Well book club usually don’t take that long and its during tea time so I guess I don’t mind gracing the lounge with my presence” you giggled, getting up and taking your empty dishes to the sink. Alastor followed you and quickly swatted your hands as you reached to turn the sink on. 

“Now now my dear, you spent all evening cooking the least I can do is wash the dishes. The chef shouldn’t cook and clean” he nudged you away from the sink as you pouted.

It never ceased to amazed you that Alastor took on household chores. Most husbands had their wives cook and clean, but not your Alastor.

He didn’t like you to tire out from maintaining the home all day.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek in thanks and told him you’ll be upstairs getting ready for bed.

You had just finished rolling your hair when Alastor came up to your bedroom. You sighed as you sunk into the cool cotton sheets, finally relaxing for the day. You didn’t realized you had quickly fell asleep until feeling Alastor slide into bed beside you, arm pulling you to tuck you into his side and rest your head on his chest.

You happily cuddled into him, breathing in his scent as the sound of his heartbeat lulled you back to sleep.

A yawn passed your lips as began to fall asleep

”Goodnight” 

”Sleep tight dear”

”Don’t let the bedbugs bite”

”haha see you in the morning light love” he whispered pressing a kiss to your forehead as you sighed, chest heaving in deep breaths.

Alastor smiled at your sleeping face; how lucky was he to have a sweet wife who worked so hard while he was gone. His eyes grew heavy as he listened to your soft snores.

What bliss. He wouldn’t give this up for anything in the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NOTE: aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh why and how did my mind conjure this when I have other things to write eeeeeeehhhh!!!!!!!

Anyway….this is gonna be ANOTHER short story hehehe. Since I wrote it on a whim it might take some time for me to post the next part but I hope y’all enjoy it nevertheless!

Remember to comment on the pinned post as I have a hard time finding everyone to tag since y’all are scattered on different posts!

if i missed anyone my bad!!!!

@nightshadelm @th3-st4r-gur1 @amurtan @lunaramune @southern-bayou-beau @monstersealclubber @certifiedcrybabyyy @karolinda007-blog @theveiledlibrarian @simphornies @yourdoorisunlocked @nettaw @purplecatsandhearts @catherine1206 @jellibean2018 @thewinchestah @wonderlandangelsposts @alishii @readergirlstuff @whydohumansss @missgurlsstuff @yuzurixx @darkovergrownforestnymph @dasimp777 @markster666 @alastorsgirl48 @alastor-simp @alastorsaries @preciousbabypeter @alastwhore666 @strawberrypimp666 @stawberrypimpsimp @queenariesofnarnia @peachedtvs @peachedtv @tpks @siiv3r @hazelfoureyes @okay-babe @aconfusedworld @chewbrry @altruisticalastor @yunimimii @dievia3 @alastorsdear @alastorsdarlingdoe @t0byisher3 @dennsfz @twismare @nanami1chu @yoongibabs @menthatilove @smoky000

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 YOU GOT ME NERVOUS TO SPEAK yu jimin x reader

↳ warnings jimin’s a mess, yn is a model and producer and older idol!karina x famous!reader

you could never catch jimin lacking confidence. she carried herself with an air of self-assuredness that was impossible to ignore, and she always thought highly of herself. nerves? they were foreign to her.

however, jimin had her moments. moments where friends and managers took advantage of her kindness, slipping past her defenses. though these instances were minor, they left a lasting sting, prompting her to build a thick wall around her emotions.

now, nobody could make her feel less than the strong woman she knew herself to be. nobody could easily sway her into doing things for them, and most importantly, nobody could ever make her nervous.

or so she thought.

jimin had heard of yn a few times—just in passing. she knew yn was a high end model, admired for her beauty. but that wasn’t all. yn was also a talented music producer who had worked with various artists, particularly under SM entertainment.despite this, yn had never collaborated with aespa.

that was until their fist full album.

"oh my gosh, she's so cool," aeri exclaimed as she walked out of the recording studio, plopping down beside minjeong. her cheeks were still flushed with excitement. "she complimented my outfit, bro! I wanted to die. she’s so hot."

yizhuo and minjeong nodded in fervent agreement, both still riding the high from their own recording sessions with yn.

"she's in love with me," yizhuo bragged with a grin, her voice dripping with playful confidence. "she kept complimenting my voice. I was literally serenading her."

jimin rolled her eyes at her members’ antics, feeling a bit of skepticism creep in. "stop being delusional," she teased, getting up from her seat and preparing to enter the studio herself. "I guess it's my turn with your little crush," she added, a smirk playing on her lips as she walked through the door.

the moment jimin stepped inside, the first thing she noticed was yn, lounging casually in the producer’s chair, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as if lost in thought. there was something about the way yn carried herself—calm, composed, yet effortlessly commanding the room.

jimin cleared her throat, drawing yn’s attention. the producer turned her head, her eyes slowly scanning jimjn from head to toe. the intensity of yn’s gaze made jimin instinctively tug at her sleeves, suddenly hyper-aware of her appearance under the scrutiny.

“hey,” yn greeted, a lazy smile spreading across her lips as she leaned forward in her chair. “best for last, huh?”

jimin felt her face heat up at the comment. It wasn’t just the words, but the way yn said them, smooth and confident, with a hint of something more. the girls weren’t lying, yn had an undeniable charm that was hard to resist.

jimin, for the first time in as long as she could remember, felt a flutter of nervousness. she didn’t like it—not one bit. she tried to brush it off with a light chuckle, but it came out more awkward than she intended, causing yn to raise an eyebrow at her.

“oh-oh, sorry,” jimin stammered, quickly moving toward the recording booth, hoping to shake off the strange feeling that had settled in her stomach. as she stepped inside, she heard yn’s soft laugh. a sound that only made her cheeks burn hotter.

from behind the glass, yn adjusted her glasses, her eyes flicking between a piece of paper and jimin. “you’ve gone over your parts?”

“yep,” jimin replied, trying her best to regain her composure. she watched as yn nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

“good. I’m actually going to have you start with the bridge,” yn instructed, her tone professional yet still carrying that undertone of warmth. “I want to see how it sounds alongside winter’s voice.”

“sounds good,” jimin said, eager to get started. she wanted to get this over with—to finish the session so she could stop feeling whatever it was that yn was making her feel.

yn gave her a small smile. “confident.”

“always am,” jimin replied, a hint of her usual vibe returning.

“that’s cute,” yn remarked, laughing when she saw the shock on jimin’s face. “alright, let’s get recording.”

jimin was so ready to get this over with but who knew one producer could screw her over like this.

it wasn’t going as smoothly as jimin had hoped. an hour passed, and she couldn’t seem to get a single line right. wvery time she tried to focus, she felt yn’s eyes on her, and it threw her off completely. It was frustrating—she had never had this problem before. she was usually the epitome of professionalism, but now she was fumbling over words like a rookie.

jimin gently banged her head against the mic in frustration, eliciting a soft laugh of pity from yn. “Is there any reason why you’re having such a hard time?” yn asked, her tone laced with genuine curiosity.

“you,” jimin grumbled, surprising herself with the admission. she hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it was the truth.

“me?” yn repeated, her voice tinged with amusement.

jimin sighed and leaned back against the wall of the booth, running a hand through her hair. “I’m just… I’m used to certain producers. you’re new to me, I guess. I’m having a hard time because I don’t know you.” the words tumbled out, a half-truth meant to mask the real reason behind her nerves—how was she supposed to tell yn that her presence was distracting because she was just too damn attractive?

It was totally bullshit but it’s all she could think of, how else is she supposed to say “hey, I’m having a hard time because you’re very hot and I can’t focus.”

yn seemed to sense the half-lie, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she nodded thoughtfully, biting the inside of her cheek as if holding back a smile. “alright, then. you can get to know me,” she said casually. “you know the party sm is throwing in a couple of days? find me there.”

jimin did know about the party. It was a big event, meant to celebrate sm artists, choreographers, and producers. she hadn’t planned on going—parties weren’t really her scene—but it seemed she had no choice now.

“okay… I guess I’ll see you there,” jimin agreed, her voice quieter than usual.

“yup,” yn replied, her tone light. “now go tell your members why you couldn’t finish recording because you didn’t know me.” yhe mockery in her voice was playful, causing Jimin to laugh despite herself.

“bye,” jimin said softly, her smile lingering as she turned to leave the room. she couldn’t help but glance back one last time, seeing yn wave with that same teasing grin.

Is it possible to develop a crush in an hour? because it seems like jimin definitely had one

jimin stood beside aeri at the party, her usual confidence feeling slightly out of reach. The sm event was in full swing, with artists, producers, and choreographers mingling under the soft glow of the ambient lights. laughter and chatter filled the room, but jimin found herself unusually quiet, her eyes scanning the crowd.

“you seem nervous,” aeri noted, nudging jimin with her elbow. “I thought you were too cool to get nervous.”

jimin forced a laugh, trying to play it off. “I’m not nervous,” she insisted, though her eyes betrayed her as they continued to dart around the room, searching for a familiar face.

“hh-huh,” aeri teased, clearly not buying it. “If you say so.”

just as Jimin was about to retort, she spotted yn across the room. he producer/model was in deep conversation with a group of sm’s top choreographers, looking effortlessly laid back yn’s presence was magnetic, and it wasn’t just jimin who noticed—several heads turned to glance at her, admiration clear in their eyes.

jimin felt her heart skip a beat when yn’s gaze suddenly locked onto hers. the conversation yn was having seemed to fade into the background as she smiled at jimin, her eyes lighting up with recognition. without breaking eye contact, yn raised her hand and waved jimin over, the gesture both casual and inviting.

“you’re gonna go over there, right?” aeri asked, leaning in with a knowing smirk.

“yeah, I guess,” jimin muttered, trying to sound nonchalant. but inside, her nerves were buzzing, and her feet felt heavier than they should as she began to make her way across the room.

as she approached, yn excused herself from the group she had been talking to, turning her full attention to jimin. “hey,” yn greeted, her voice smooth and warm, just like in the studio. “glad you made it.”

“yeah, well… couldn’t miss it, could I?” jimin replied, cursing herself internally for how awkward she sounded. she took a steadying breath, trying to find her footing. “You look great, by the way.”

yn’s smile widened, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “thank you. you clean up pretty well yourself,” she complimented, her gaze sweeping over jimin appreciatively. “though, I have to say, I’m still thinking about what happened in the studio.”

jimin’s heart sank slightly, knowing exactly what yn was referring to. she let out a nervous laugh, trying to brush it off. “about that… sorry I wasn’t at my best. It was just, you know, the new environment and all.”

“mm-hmm,” yn hummed, clearly unconvinced. she leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a playful whisper. “or maybe it was something else… or someone else?”

jimin’s cheeks flushed, the teasing sound in yn’s voice making it hard to maintain eye contact. “okay, maybe I was a little… distracted,” she admitted, the words tumbling out before she could stop herself.

yn raised an eyebrow, her smile turning into a smirk. “distracted, huh? by what, exactly?”

jimin hesitated, feeling the heat rise in her face. she knew there was no way out of this without admitting some of the truth. “by you,” she finally confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… you’re different from the other producers I’ve worked with. It kind of threw me off.”

yn seemed to savor the admission, her smirk softening into a more genuine smile. “I guess I should be flattered then,” she said, her tone still playful but with a hint of sincerity. “but you didn’t have to make up that little excuse about not knowing me. I think you were just nervous.”

jimin bit her lip, feeling both embarrassed and amused by how easily yn had seen through her lie. “maybe I was,” she admitted, surprising herself with how honest she was being.

yn’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in even closer, her voice just a breath away from jimin’s ear. “well, if it makes you feel better, I thought it was cute.”

jimin’s heart skipped another beat, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. the way yn was looking at her—with that mix of teasing and something more—was making her feel things she wasn’t used to feeling, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

trying to regain some semblance of control, jimin cleared her throat and straightened up, a small, nervous smile on her lips. “So… about that recording session. maybe we could, um, try again? Without the distractions this time.”

“oh?” yn’s interest was clearly piqued, her smirk returning. “and what kind of distractions are you talking about?”

jimin felt her face heat up again, but this time, she decided to lean into it. “how about just the two of us in the studio? no members in the outside room. no distractions,” she suggested, her tone carrying a hint of flirtation despite the nervousness still gnawing at her.

yn seemed to consider this for a moment, her gaze lingering on jimin with an intensity that made the air between them feel charged. “I think that could be arranged,” she finally replied, her voice low and smooth. “just you and me.”

“just us,” jimin echoed, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“well then,” yn said, straightening up but still keeping her eyes locked on Jimin. “It’s a date. I’ll make sure the studio is ready. you just bring that confidence you’re so famous for.”

jimin nodded, her heart racing but excitement bubbling up alongside the nerves. “I’ll be there.”

“looking forward to it,” yn replied, her smile lingering as she took a step back, giving Jimin one last look before turning away, leaving Jimin standing there, trying to process everything that had just happened.

as yn walked away, jimin couldn’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and nerves. It seemed like she had gotten herself into something she wasn’t quite prepared for—but at the same time, she was eager to see where this new, unexpected connection might lead.

I guess you can say she was okay with feeling a bit nervous.

[sheerfreesia007]

Mouth To Mouth

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Word count: 2,473

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: Lee Know is not a fan of the water, it’s a known fact in your group of friends. What happens when he pushes himself to enjoy the pool all because of that delicious bikini you’re wearing?

Hyunjin screamed as Changbin grabbed him around the waist and lifted him high above the water before slamming him back into the water. Lee Know stared at them as his top lip curled slightly with distaste while watching as the pool water splashed all the way out of the pool and onto the pool deck near the lounge chair that he was laying on. Chan had decided that because it had been such high temperatures lately that they all needed to cool off at the pool much to Lee Know’s displeasure. 

While the other boys had been more than happy to go to the pool Lee Know, who didn’t know how to swim would be perfectly fine by just sunning himself on the lounge chairs. And once they had all gotten to the pool that’s what he had done, he had set up camp on the plushiest lounge chair and moved the umbrella to the perfect position to allow just enough sunlight onto the chair that wouldn’t bother him as he relaxed. Finally when he had the Bluetooth speaker set up playing upbeat songs and everything was to his liking he laid back on the lounge chair softly shut his eyes behind his dark sunglasses before he let himself relax in the streaming warm sunlight feeling the warmth start to make his limbs turn into jelly.

Just as he was beginning to doze off he heard the door for the locker rooms open and shut once more causing him to turn his head lazily towards the sound to see who would interrupt their peace. His eyes widened behind his sunglasses as he spotted you striding along the pool deck in front of the lounge chairs as the boys all began cheering your name when they spotted you. Lee Know watched silently behind his sunglasses as you grinned at the boys in the pool and waved at them as your own dark sunglasses sat perched perfectly on your face. Seungmin and Jeongin began trailing you through the water as you kept walking towards Lee Know as you laughed at their antics. His eyes darted up and down your body feeling an entirely different warmth start to fill him making him shift on the chair. You were wearing a flowy floral print baggy cover up that hid your body from his view but your bare legs made his mouth water before he bit his bottom lip when he spotted your platform sandals on your feet. You looked so sexy in your pool outfit that it was nearly distracting to him but because his sunglasses were so dark he didn’t have to worry about you catching him staring at you thankfully. He was able to look his fill of you without you being the wiser. When you came to a stop next to his lounge chair you grinned down at him before setting your tote bag down on the lounge chair next to his.

“Hi Lee Know! Not swimming today?” you asked him pleasantly as you slipped your sunglasses off your face and tossed them into your bag.

“I can’t swim Jagi.” he reminded you and you furrowed your brow at him for a moment concerned at his words.

“Oh, I forgot about that. Sorry.” you said softly sounding dejected and Lee Know instantly wanted to take his words back since they caused you worry. He had been smitten with you ever since Han had introduced you to the group almost a year ago stating that you had met him at a Studio Ghibli convention. You had easily joined the group with how laid back you were in nature always going along with the flow of the group helping balance out all the high energy boys. It had been about a month into knowing you that he knew he was attracted to you and only two months into knowing you that he knew he had already fallen hard for you. There were so many sides to you and Lee Know loved slowly discovering all of them while he spent time with you. Like now, you looked so worried about the fact that he couldn’t swim that your forehead was wrinkled cutely with your concern that he felt the biggest urge to place a kiss there to ease your concern. But he wouldn’t do that, he wasn’t sure if you would appreciate that or would deny his affection for you. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of you, especially if you would tell him that you didn’t feel the same way about him as he does you.

“I’m more than happy to laze about and take a cat nap up here.” he reassured you and you chuckled softly at his words causing his heart to thud heavily in his chest. You were so pretty on any regular day but when you smiled or laughed it was like you shone from within for him. He loved pulling smiles and happy laughs from you, it became like a game or competition for him to see how many he could pull from you in one hang out. Once he had gotten up to twenty smiles and nine laughs in one night and he had gone to bed on cloud nine that night after making you laugh so hard that you had to lean into his side to keep yourself upright on the couch he shared with you.

“Well if you want to come swim with us, just come find me. I’ll make sure you’re okay in there.” you tell him kindly and he smiles widely at your concern for him. He then watches with bated breath as you reach down to the hem of your cover up and pull it slowly up your body slowly revealing your body to him. The way you sensually move in front of him makes his breath stutter in his chest as his eyes drink in the show that you’re giving him. Your bare thighs catch his attention first, the expanse of delicious skin has him salivating and Lee Know shifts in his seat as he tries to drag his eyes away from you. But as you drag your cover up slowly up your body his eyes are right back zeroed in on your body. He bites his bottom lip when he watches your pretty mint floral bikini bottom is revealed to him. You just look so stunning in the pretty bikini that he can’t keep his eyes off you, but soon your stomach is revealed to him and he feels his eyes widen slightly as he spots a very intricate moon tattoo decorating one side of your torso while a sparkling moon belly button piercing twinkles in the sunlight. His mind is still short circuiting about your tattoo and belly button piercing when you finally slip the cover up off your body revealing the bikini top that covers your chest. He’s melting into the lounge chair now as he sees the full picture that is your body and he’s not okay right now.

Lee Know’s reaction to seeing your bikini is nearly visceral as he jerks with the almost insatiable urge to lunge for you. He wants to wrap his arms around your body and pull you close so that you’re flush against his hard eager body as he devours you with his mouth. His eyes are dancing up and down your body trying to soak all of it in as much as he can but soon you’re turning from him to face the pool and he feels as if the sun has been hidden behind dark clouds. There’s no longer any warmth as he watches you stride to the pool and excitedly jump into the pool as Seungmin and Jeongin cheer loudly.

Scoffing softly at how easily you fall into the excitement of the pool day with the boys he keeps his eyes trained on you never wanting to stop looking. He watches as you move through the water greeting each of the boys and swimming around with Felix, Seungmin and Jeongin a little bit. Jealousy rises swiftly within him as he watches you sidle up to Han as he leans against the side of the pool and without even thinking he’s standing from his lounge chair and moving to the edge of the pool. He quickly sits and slips his legs into the water grimacing slightly but when he hears your soft laughter from across the pool his eyes dart over to you to see you and Han getting splashed by Hyunjin as he rushes after a fleeing Felix and Jeongin.

He watches surprised as you look over at him with a shocked happy look on your face before you swim over to stand in front of his legs. You’re smiling up at him as he slowly slides into the pool and feels his chest tighten with desire for you as his eyes darts down your body. His mouth waters as he watches water droplets race down your skin to the material of your bikini, what he wouldn’t do to chase those droplets with his tongue. He flinches slightly when Chan and Changbin begin splashing each other not far from him and you step closer to him gently grabbing onto his arm before pulling away from the fighting boys. He stares at your sweet smile as you guide him over to the steps of the pool and you lounge back on them before looking at him expectantly and he does the same taking a spot next to you.

”Are you okay?” You ask him sweetly and he smirks softly before nodding his head. He’s loving having all of your attention on him and he scoots closer to you on the step that you’re sharing.

”I’m okay Jagi.” He says softly while leaning towards you to speak to you. “Besides you’re here with me just in case.” He watches as your cheeks flush lightly with how close he is to you and he feels his heart begin to race. Are you blushing because of how close he is to you? Are you affected by his proximity? He can feel himself start to grow excited with the possibilities when suddenly Seungmin calls out for you causing you to turn your head to him. Lee Know scowls softly at the younger man who smirks at him knowingly before he starts waving you over to him and Jeongin. You move to get up but Lee Know quickly reaches out to you and grabs your hand which causes you to look back at him concerned for a moment before you smile softly at him.

”C’mon Lee Know, Seungmin and Jeongin want to have a race.” You tell him happily before moving closer to him. “Be the judge of the race for us. I promise you’ll be fine.” You reassure him and he smiles at your naivety of the situation before he nods his head and follows after you through the water towards the younger boys. Seungmin scoffs softly at his presence and Lee Know glares at him heatedly.

”So two laps from one end to the other.” Seungmin proudly announces and Lee Know slowly lets go of your hand as he leans against the pool wall as you eagerly nod your head at Seungmin’s rules for the race. You, Seungmin, and Jeongin all move to get into formation as Lee Know watches at the side of the pool with his hand raised. He watches as your eyes dart over to his before you wink cheekily at him just as he yells out for the three of you to begin.

Lee Know watches as you easily begin to swim through the water, his eyes watch you avidly as your body slices through the water. He can see your lean muscles moving under your skin as you propel your body through the water quickly. Seungmin has a bit of a lead on you as Jeongin keeps pace with you but suddenly you’re pulling ahead of Seungmin as your legs kick faster giving you that extra bit of speed.

He’s so focused on watching you that he doesn’t hear Chan and Changbin behind him wrestling in the water. Suddenly he’s being knocked into the water and their wrestling forces him below the water. His body twists and turns until he’s dizzy as his mouth opens sucking in some water. He begins to panic as his lungs protest with the swallowed water, his vision starts to black around the edges before he feels arms wrap around his torso and begin to tug him up towards the surface.

There’s shouting and Lee Know still feels dizzy as he’s lifted out of the pool and laid on the pool deck. He coughs up the water before laying back on the ground and feels shadows dance across his shut eyelids as his hearing comes into focus.

”Get out of the way Han!” You cry out sounding worried and suddenly all the sun is blocked out from his eyelids. “Lee Know! Lee Know, wake up! Shit!” You call out while shaking his shoulders but Lee Know gives himself a moment to gather his bearings before he hears other voices call out.

”Is he okay?!” Cries out Felix worriedly from his side and Lee Know flinches at how loud he sounds.

”I don’t know Felix, he’s not waking up. I think I have to give him mouth to mouth. He has a pulse but I don’t think he’s breathing.” You respond urgently and Lee Know feels as if his soul has left his body at the idea of you placing your lips to his. Your fingers press under his chin and tilt his head back before your fingers come up and pinch his nose closed. Lee Know flutters his eyes open and stares up at the worried faces of his friends who all gasp as their eyes widen at seeing him perfectly fine. 

He then shuts his eyes as you lean over him and he feels your lips press against his. He groans loudly at the feeling before he reaches up and cups the back of your head to keep you pressed to his mouth as he slips his tongue into your mouth. You squeal and pull back in shock, Lee Know guiltily stares up into your shocked eyes before they narrow slightly and a smirk slips onto your face.

”If you wanted to kiss me all you had to do was ask like a normal person.” You grumble out to him before leaning back towards him cupping his face before your mouth slants against his once more. Lee Know groans loudly once more as he kisses you back and all of his friends all grumble and make gagging noises as Lee Know flips them off while he continues kissing you.                                   

[ki-yomii]

two for the show | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader

➥ word count | 2.1k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, established relationship, accidental voyeurism, masturbation (solo m), panty kink, implied choking kink

➥ summary | it’s unfair how pretty he is like this; so wanton and needy, half naked and stretched across the middle of your bed (aka the fic where you catch jk jerking off in your bed with a pair of your panties).

➥ notes | 🙃 this man straight up made me buy a keychain that says jk’s slut. i have no regrets.

🤎 series masterlist | masterlist | inbox | AO3 🤎

“I’m home!”

Pausing in the doorway, you listen as the barren sounds of your apartment echo back at you; the soft gurgle of the pipes, the metallic rumble of the dryer, the fan on your fridge kicking on with a dying sputter.

Everything’s as you left it, barring the notable absence of your boyfriend.

There’s no low-toned voice ringing out to greet you, no man-shaped golden retriever bouncing over to drape his arms over your shoulder and smother you in kisses.

It puts you ill at ease, a frown tugging at the corners of your mouth as you toss your keys on the side table and place your shoes next to his. Jungkook said he’d lounge around until you got back from your errands.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour, and as it was his first day off in forever, he’d wanted to spend it with you.

… Only instead, he’s nowhere to be found.

The couch is empty, the tv dark. No god awful clanking or boisterous humming, so that rules out him taking a shower. Did he get called away to the studio? Though if that was the case, he’d have texted.

Right?

Right - he knows how you feel about him disappearing without notice. So that can’t be it - plus his footwear is still on the rack. 

 Stepping into the kitchen

“Kook,” you call, peeking into the kitchen only to find it just as empty as the rest of the apartment, “you still here?”

There’s no answer.

But what sounds like a faint curse comes from somewhere near the bedrooms, so with a shrug you follow the noise only to freeze.

Your brows shoot up your forehead, and your gut clenches hotly.  A violent, visceral reaction that makes all the moisture flee your mouth.

Surely he’s not… No, there’s no way.

Except then a grunt breaks the tense quiet; smothered, breathless sounds that echo low and wounded into the hallway.

If you hadn’t been standing right outside the doorway, if you hadn’t been looking for Jungkook, the distant humdrum of everyday life would’ve otherwise disguised them.

A warm hush creeps up your neck and pools in your cheeks, leaving your skin altogether uncomfortable; itchy and tight like a nasty burn.

Every tentative step feels like walking on a tripwire, the slightest creak of the floorboards a gunshot. 

It’s a miracle you make it to the end of the hall, your door haphazardly cracked with slats of sunlight spilling across the floor. Seconds later, another grunt - this time louder and filthier. 

It’s impossible to resist the urge to peek around the doorjamb, to see how Jungkook’s pulling those kinds of sounds from his throat, to see what tempo he likes to stroke his cock to when he’s alone.

Mouth full of cotton, your heart lurches while you try to absorb the surreal image presented with difficulty.

With how he’s planted his feet and bent his legs, it’s difficult to get an unobstructed view of what his hand’s doing between his thighs but what you can see?

Well.

“…H-Haaah…ss-shit, that’s…”

It’s unfair how pretty he is like this; so wanton and needy, half naked and stretched across the middle of your bed. You only notice the scrap of fabric draped over his chest because of how bright and oddly familiar it is, but you’re too far away to identify it and you’ve got more important things to focus on.

He looks like some wild, half tamed creature come to steal you away; the briar of his hair a dark halo on the pillows, the short strands sticking to his sweat-slick forehead.

Eyes hooded and hazy, he watches as the pink tip of his cock appears through the circle of his fingers with every upwards rut. Mouth slack and rosy, his tongue glimmers like a tempting prize.

It sends you reeling, a gush of slick wetting your thighs the next time you squeeze them. You’re unbearably empty - desire hooked behind your navel. An unscratchable itch that’ll surely drive you mad.

Every time you blink, he’s there waiting behind your eyelids; his cock thick and heavy, curved towards his belly and throbbing with each measured stroke.

His thighs tremble, and his toes dig into the bed spread. “Fuhhhck, baby - baby please, let me…”

You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Gonna cum, oh god. Yeah, that’s it just - hnggg - just like that. S’good for me.”

Tatted fingers tug at the hem of his shirt, rucking the fabric up and out of the way. It bunches under his armpits and exposes the cut of his chest, the valleys of his muscled frame.

The muscles bunch and strain with his movements, and you long to sink your teeth in.

“Right there - oh fuck - right there.” His abs clench and his hips flex. “Jus’ like that, come on, baby.”

Digging your nails into your thigh provides distraction - albeit temporarily as he pauses what he’s doing after a few more hurried strokes, the lines of frustration on his face deepening. The hand around his cock slows to an almost glacial pace.

Hooking a finger around whatever’s resting on his chest, Jungkook raises it up to dangle in front of his face - and shock lances through you, quickly followed by an ohmygod, are those… ?

Yes - yes, they are.

No wonder it looks familiar.

All thought processes grind to a halt, your pussy clenching and your knees nearly buckling once you recognize your favorite pair of panties hanging off your boyfriend’s finger.

Anticipation swells in the pit of your stomach, a ferocious heat bubbling to life behind your navel.

All corrupting, all consuming, until you’re shaking with longing.

You never thought seeing Jungkook like this would affect you so much - never even imagined a scenario in which you would, let alone with a pair of your underwear. Though, you also never imagined it would make you as hot and bothered as it does.

No way, no way, no way.

“Mm, so pretty, baby,” he murmurs, spreading his fingers to stretch out the fabric. “Jus’ for me.”

Eyes wide, you watch as he scrutinizes the whorls of delicate lace and sheer panels. He’s not really going to…is he?

Biting his lip, he spares your panties one more long look before working them down his body. His nipples stiffen when they trail down the valley of his pecs, his voice a breathy curse as they tickle the band of his hips, his skin pebbled with goosebumps. 

Holy shit, he is.

You choke on your own spit.

It’s almost impossible to believe that he’s about to jack off with a pair of your panties - that you get to witness it happen for yourself - but then he’s switching hands, and you see how pretty the fabric looks stretched out over the girth of his cock.

The texture must feel amazing because Jungkook full-body shudders, his eyes pinched shut and his brows furrowed like he’s in pain.

He lurches forward, catching himself before he folds in half and takes a shaky breath. His fingers flex, the fabric scraping over his sensitive shaft and teasing his swollen balls. 

He whines. “Oh my fuh - that feels so fucking good.”

What you wouldn’t give to know what he’s imagining right now. Every hitched whimper gets your ears ringing and your legs crossing, the drag of your shirt over your nipples uncomfortable with how hard they are.

Nevermind the state of your underwear - the slightest shift has your folds sticking together, a sticky wet gush you’d love to soak his cock with. 

You don’t even care that he’s getting a little too loud. So what if your crotchety ass neighbor files a complaint?

The sight alone more than makes up for the headache of dealing with management.

Though apparently, Jungkook’s got more consideration for prying ears because he stuffs the corner of his shirt into his mouth.

Stifling a gasp, he locks the desperate noises behind his teeth by biting down and using the fabric to muzzle himself.

His strong thighs tremble when the circle of his fingers meets the base, knuckles white as the crotch of your panties pulls taut over his swollen cockhead. The visual alone nearly ends you.

Why, you think, half-hysterical.

It’s becoming painful to watch and do nothing.

His choked little groan precedes the flex of his wrist - the apologetic glide of his palm as he staves off another orgasm, the angry tip of his erection leaking where it peeks out from the bright lace.

He’s been on the edge of coming for a while with how wet and swollen his cock his; veins thick and throbbing, balls taut and drawn up towards his body.

A punch of desire at imagining all the things he’s gotten up to while you were gone leaves you winded, and you’re barely able to swallow the moan creeping up from deep inside your chest.

It feels like someone sucker punched you full stop. And then replacing those fingers with your mouth - with your cunt - invades every thought until heat crackles down your spine.

Or maybe you should let this play out - have him stain your panties with cum and then put them on, wear them around the apartment until he fucks you over the counter.

It’s a win-win situation, no matter which scenario you pick.

A fresh wave of arousal pools between your thighs, honey thick every time your pussy clenches. Your clit aches for friction, swollen and raw, all while Jungkook continues to drive himself pleasure drunk.

Right now, the slightest touch could make you cry, you’re so turned on.

Keeping quiet as you shift closer to hear the slick, soppy sounds of him fucking up into the grip of his fist is almost impossible, but somehow you clear the doorjamb, the door itself a faint sensation at the back of your elbow.

And then you stop breathing.

Your heartbeat thuds in your ears, your blood rushing so fast you swear you hear it thundering through your veins. The air thickens with tension, the musk of fevered arousal heavy in your nose.

Only right as you’re about to crack, one of the sweetest moans you’ve ever heard breaks through his cotton gag. He must hear your stuttered inhale, the grit of your teeth because he freezes. His body becomes a rigid line of tension, muscles coiled.

And then those pretty doe eyes pop open.

Immediately seeking you out, Jungkook swallows and unhinges his jaw. The makeshift bit slips free from his mouth, his shirt fluttering back down to his chest.

A patch of damp sticks to his skin. 

“Baby…” he says, his voice thick with pleasure - low and rough like smoky whiskey - while a flush blooms across his cheeks, “You’re - You’re home…”

Without responding, you take a step into the room. 

The closer you get, the tenser Jungkook becomes - his breath locking in his throat and his eyes falling shut.

At some point, his hand pulls away and tries to tuck your panties off to the side. It’s too bad you’ve been watching the whole time, otherwise he might’ve gotten away with it.

Jungkook clears his throat and scratches at his jaw. “I was just - uh, y’know…”

He trails off, his hands fluttering around his hips. As if there’s a way to hide the excited twitch of his cock or the drool of pre-cum when you stop at the bedside. 

With a faint smile and a raised brow, you ask, “Having fun?”

“I - baby, I’m so…” A muscle in his jaw jumps. “‘m sorry.”

He refuses to look at you.

And that just won’t do.

“Shit!”

Jungkook jolts, a drawn-out moan full of heat ripped out of his mouth when you press your hand over the heated skin of his throat.

All the air whooshes from your lungs and you watch your thumb trace over the swell of his Adam’s apple, enchanted. His body strains up into your tender touch, every hard line demanding you finish what he started.

“Need some help?” you ask, feeling him gulp against your palm. “Sure looks like you do.”

It’s apparent he can barely think, those pretty eyes clouded over in a haze of desperation. Your nails dig into his oversensitive skin to see him flinch, to watch as a shudder rolls down his spine at the delicate bite of pain.

His cock bobs against his belly. 

“Come on, baby. Wouldn’t you like my hand or pussy better?”

“Shit, I -” he groans, tossing a forearm over his eyes. “Why are you like this? You’re gonna kill me one day.”

You chuckle, tracing the swell of his bottom lip, the metal of his lip ring. “That still doesn’t answer my question.”

Every pass of your hand works your fingers higher until the tips press in at the corners of his mouth.

You repeat yourself, “Do you need some help?”

At the taste of your skin, Jungkook groans; a soft, deep-throated thing that injects heat into your veins. His tongue is soft against the pads of your fingers, wet and cradling.

A lone eye peeks up at you from behind his wrist, hooded and burning.

“… Please.”

[fullsandwichmiracle]

Pretty screams

Paring: Joost Klein x female!reader 

Description: Joost invited you to the studio and encouraged you to experiment with creating a song. As you worked on it, Joost was inspired and decided he wanted to use your captivating screams for his next project.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, cigarettes, smut, oral receiving , PnV, unprotected, no use of Y/N, one shot

Word count: 2,5k+

You had met Joost at a friend's house party, where you had spent most of the evening engaged in deep conversations and playful flirting. Joost, it turned out, was a musician, and by the end of the night, you had exchanged numbers.

A week later, while lounging in your room with a good book, your phone buzzed with a text from Joost.

Hello! Do you remember me?

Hmm. Cute music dude?

Yes!

Since the party, you hadn't spoken and had assumed he had forgotten about you. You hadn't reached out either, not wanting to appear too eager and desperate. Despite the closeness at the party, nothing had transpired between you two.

Are you up to anything?

No, not really, just reading. Why?

Me and the guys are in the studio. Just wondering if you wanted to come over? You can read here.

Sure, why not. Can you send me the address?

When Joost sent the address, you quickly threw on an oversized hoodie over your black silk pajama shorts and top, packed your book and phone into a tote bag, and slipped on your headphones. The night air was cool as you headed out on your bike towards the studio.

I'm outside. How do I get in?

You texted Joost after parking your bike near the building. When he didn’t respond immediately, you lit a cigarette and took a drag, letting the music in your headphones carry you away.

Lost in the music, you closed your eyes. Suddenly, a hand on your shoulder jolted you back, and you let out a scream.

It was Joost, who had apparently been standing there for a while before deciding to interrupt you.

"Pretty scream," he said, laughing. "Wanna come inside?"

"Sorry, I drifted away," you replied with a chuckle. "And yes."

You stubbed out your cigarette and followed him inside.

The studio buzzed with energy, a mix of creative chaos. Joost introduced you to everyone, their faces lighting up with infectious enthusiasm. You settled next to Apson, who was focused on something on his laptop.

"Hey," Apson greeted you with a nod as you took out your book to continue reading.

After a while, Joost approached you with a pair of headphones. "Wanna hear what we're working on?"

You nodded eagerly, putting down the book and slipping them on. The music enveloped you—a fusion of beats, melodies, and harmonies that was both raw and polished. You glanced over at Joost, who watched your reaction intently.

"This is amazing," you said, genuinely impressed as you heard the beginning.

"Thanks," Joost replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "We've been at it for hours."

You nodded along to the beat of the song, enjoying what they had created. 

When the song ended, Joost pulled up a stool next to you. "So, what do you think?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"It's incredible," you replied. "I had no idea you guys were this talented."

As you took off the headphones and handed them back to Joost, your fingers brushed lightly, sending a subtle shiver up your spine. You both paused, the moment lingering between you.

"Do you wanna try making something?" Joost asked with a soft, inviting smile, his eyes never leaving yours.

You felt a flutter of excitement and eagerly nodded in agreement. Joost guided you over to the mixing board, his hand resting gently on your back. As he explained the basics, his voice became a warm whisper in your ear, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin.

Under his patient guidance, you began to experiment with different sounds. Joost watched you with admiration and something deeper in his gaze. Together, the two of you crafted a simple melody and beat, each note resonating with the shared energy between you.

"That sounds beautiful," Joost murmured, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that sent a thrill through your body.

"Thank you," you whispered back, feeling a blush warm your cheeks under his gaze.

Glancing back, you noticed that the others had quietly slipped away, leaving just the two of you immersed in the music and each other's presence.

Joost's hand found its way to your thigh with a gentle touch, causing a delicious tension to spread through your body. "Seems like someone's hiding a talent," he remarked, giving your thigh a slight squeeze. A soft whimper escaped your lips at the sensation of his touch on your bare skin.

"Thank you," you managed to reply, your voice barely above a breath. The intimacy of his touch and the moment overwhelmed you, drawing you closer to him without hesitation.

Joost's eyes softened as he looked at you, his fingers tracing light circles on your thigh. "You know," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the party."

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. "Me too," you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion.

Joost's hand moved to gently cup your face, his thumb tenderly brushing your cheek. "I can't get you out of my mind," he confessed, his gaze locked on yours with unwavering intensity.

The air around you crackled with anticipation and unspoken desire. Unable to resist any longer, Joost closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tender kiss. It started tentatively, a gentle exploration fueled by the electric connection that had been building since the party. As the kiss deepened, passion and longing took over, expressing the unspoken emotions that had drawn you together.

His hands traced your body, slipping under your hoodie. You stood up from your chair and moved onto his lap, never breaking the kiss. You had wanted to kiss him for so long, but now the kiss alone wasn't enough.

Joost's hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. You could feel the heat between you rising, every touch and caress intensifying the moment. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and his lips moved from your mouth to your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

"You have no idea how much I have been thinking about this," Joost murmured against your skin, his breath warm and electrifying.

You arched into him, your desire matching his. “Joost, please" you whispered, your voice filled with longing.

Joost's hands moved with a sense of urgency, exploring your curves and igniting a fire within you. The studio, once filled with music, now echoed with the sounds of your shared passion. Every kiss, every touch, brought you closer, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

As his hands found their way back to your face, he paused for a moment, looking deeply into your eyes. "Would you be okay if we continued in the sound booth? You sound like music," he asked, his voice gentle but filled with desire.

You nodded, your heart pounding. "Sure," you responded quickly, not really processing his words and just wanting him to continue.

With that, he captured your lips again, the kiss filled with a mix of tenderness and intensity. He lifted you, and you wrapped your legs around him. You heard the click of a button before he carried you into the sound booth. Inside, there was a couch, a microphone, a piano, and a sign blinking with the word "REC." 

Joost placed you down on the couch and adjusted the mic, positioning it right next to you. His hand moved to your chin, gently lifting your face to meet his gaze. Towering over you, he looked incredibly sexy with his messy hair, hunger in his eyes, and a mischievous grin. "Say my name, schatje," he grunted, squeezing your chin slightly.

"Joost," you whispered, looking up at him.

"Louder, can you?" he said, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "Beg me to fuck you."

Taken aback by his words but driven by desire, you licked your lips before screaming nearly moaning, "Joost, please fuck me! I need you!" 

Joost's eyes darkened with desire as your words filled the booth. He leaned in, capturing your lips with a fierce passion. His hands roamed over your body, every touch igniting a fire within you. You could feel his urgency, his need for you.

He pulled away just long enough to whisper, "That's my girl," before his lips were on yours again, more insistent this time. His hands slid under your hoodie, caressing your skin and making you shiver with anticipation.

Joost's kisses trailed down your neck, and you tilted your head back, giving him full access. His teeth grazed your skin, sending waves of pleasure through you. As his hands explored further, you felt him pulling up the hoodie. You lifted your hands, helping him remove it with ease. Once he got it off, he threw it to the ground and paused, locking eyes with you in a gaze filled with intense desire.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I need you."

He trailed kisses along your body as he knelt at the edge of the couch. Your head fell back with a whimper as you felt Joost's hand caressing you through the thin fabric. His hands moved up to your waistline and tugged on your shorts, urging you to lift up so he could slide them off. You complied, lifting yourself slightly as Joost swiftly removed your shorts and underwear in one smooth motion, tossing them aside.

His hand returned quickly, now against your bare skin. His finger traced your wet folds, and he smirked, saying, "So wet and so pretty," before gently pushing in one finger, causing you to whimper, "Ohh, Joost." Only urging him on more.

Joost's touch sent shivers of pleasure through you as his finger explored your slick warmth. He continued to stroke and tease, his movements expert and deliberate. Your breath hitched with each gentle thrust, the sensation building with a delicious ache.

"You sound so pretty," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. His thumb found your sensitive bud, circling it slowly while his finger delved deeper, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

You gripped the edge of the couch, your body arching towards him, seeking more of his touch.  

"I need you," you gasped, your voice thick with need.

Joost groaned in response, adding another finger to stretch and fill you. Pleasure surged through you, igniting a fire that threatened to consume every thought. His movements grew more urgent, his fingers finding a rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart, driving you closer to the edge. Soon, you felt his tongue as he began to taste you, intensifying the sensations swirling through your body.

Your senses were ablaze as Joost's tongue explored you with expert precision, sending waves of pleasure coursing through every nerve ending. He alternates between gentle licks and firm strokes, his touch igniting sparks of ecstasy that danced along your skin.

You gasped and moaned, your fingers grasping at the couch cushions as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations. Joost's mouth worked fervently, his fingers and tongue coaxing you closer to a peak of pleasure you couldn't resist.

The intensity built like a crescendo, each flick of his tongue pushing you further towards the edge. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body arching towards him, urging him to continue. His movements were relentless, driving you towards a climax that promised to consume you entirely.

Finally, with a shudder and a cry of his name, you shattered into euphoria. Pleasure rippled through you in powerful waves, leaving you trembling and breathless in the aftermath. Joost withdrew his fingers, now slick with your essence, and moved up towards you, again towering over you.

His hand covered your mouth, his fingers teasing your lips until you obediently opened them. He gently pressed his fingers into your mouth, allowing you to taste your own release. You licked his fingers clean, locking eyes with him as you savored the intimate moment.

"Want me to fuck you?" he grunted, his voice thick with desire.

You nodded eagerly, his fingers still lingering in your mouth.

With a hungry gleam in his eyes, Joost withdrew his fingers from your mouth and swiftly removed his own clothes, while you removed your shirt, leaving both of you naked. The air crackled with anticipation as he moved closer, his desire palpable. 

You watched intently as he positioned himself above you, lying down on the couch with your head resting on the armrest, his gaze locked on yours with intensity.

He guided himself inside you, inch by delicious inch, and you gasped his name at the sensation of being filled by him. His movements were slow at first, savoring the connection between you, but soon he picked up pace, each thrust driving you both closer to the edge of ecstasy. 

Moans escaped your lips with each powerful thrust, the intensity of his desire matched by your own. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you in rhythm with his thrusts. The couch creaked beneath you, a symphony of passion blending with the quiet hum of the studio around you.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer as you met each thrust with equal fervor. The heat between you grew with every movement.

Your nails dug into his back, eliciting a deep grunt from him. In response, he began to thrust faster and deeper. With each thrust, the intensity grew, your bodies moving in perfect sync. Joost's breath was hot against your ear, mingling with your own ragged breaths.

Your nails left trails down his back, the slight sting only fueling his desire. His movements became more urgent, driven by the raw connection between you. You clung to him, your body arching to meet his, each thrust sending waves of ecstasy through you.

"Sound so… pretty," Joost murmured against your skin, his voice filled with pure desire. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, the intensity of the moment making your heart race even faster.

The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you lost in each other. The crescendo built again, the pressure mounting until you were both teetering on the edge of release. With a final, powerful thrust, you both tumbled over the edge, your cries and screams of pleasure mingling as you found your release together, you felt his warm release fill you up as he thrusted into you one last time. Joost collapsed on top of you, his breath ragged against your skin as he held you close.

You lay entwined, catching your breath in the aftermath of your passionate encounter. The studio, once a place of creativity and music, now bore witness to the raw, unbridled connection you had shared.

“You have a really pretty scream,” Joost murmured into your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He slowly got up and extended a hand to help you. Gathering your scattered clothes, he placed them beside you with a tender smile. Leaning in, he kissed your forehead before asking, "Do you want some water or anything, schatje?" as he began to put on his underwear.

You nodded, still feeling the lingering warmth of his kiss on your forehead. "Water would be great," you replied, your voice soft and content still breathy as you tried to catch your breath.

Joost smiled and walked over to a small fridge outside of the booth, retrieving a bottle of water. He handed it to you, his eyes lingering on your face with a mix of affection and desire. You took a sip, feeling the cool liquid soothe your dry throat.

As you both dressed, the air between you remained charged with the intimacy you had just shared. Joost's touch was gentle as he helped you with your clothes, his fingers brushing against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

Once you were both fully dressed, Joost pulled you into a warm embrace. "That was incredible," he whispered into your hair. "I’ve been thinking about you since the party, but this... this was more than I ever imagined."

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with emotion. "It was amazing," you agreed.

Joost's smile widened, his eyes sparkling with genuine happiness. "I'm glad you came tonight," he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You laughed softly, the sound filling the quiet studio. "Me too," you agreed, leaning in to kiss him once more.

Breaking the kiss, Joost stepped out of the booth and pressed a button to stop the recording. He downloaded the file, erasing it from the computer, and held up a USB drive. "You okay if I use this in a song?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

You smiled, feeling a surge of warmth. "Sure, but I don't want to be credited," you replied with a chuckle, leaning your head on his shoulder, knowing he thought you sounded beautiful.

You packed up all your things and headed out of the studio hand in hand with Joost. As you walked out into the night, the cool air felt refreshing against your flushed skin.

[hyunsvngs]

𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 - hwang hyunjin x gn!afab reader

wc: 5.3k

rating: 18+. MDNI

cw: casual sex w no strings attached, reader is afab but no gender-specific language/pronouns are used, background reader x minho, smut warnings under the cut.

synopsis: it was well established now that you were fucking your way around the frat. you hadn't intended to make hyunjin your next victim, but when you end up alone together, it seems like the perfect opportunity.

a/n: part four of our fratboy series, hot bitch summer!!! i really hope you all enjoy this bc i'm completely in love with our sweet, sensitive, artsy, pervy fratboy hyunjin <3

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: swearing, nude painting and photography, mutual masturbation, cumswapping, casual sex, a little bit of bickering, mentions of male x male sexual activity, very poetic descriptions of many types of genitals, hyunjin is a pervy little boy but still very lovely.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You didn't know if you'd ever seen the frat house this quiet. Even with the red solo cups littering the coffee table, hoodies and shirts strewn over furniture, clear remnants of a recent rager, the place was almost peaceful. That was probably because it was mostly empty, though. Minho and Felix were helping out at the dance studio they frequented, Chan and Changbin were at the gym. Jisung was napping, which contributed to most of the peace and quiet. Jeongin was away visiting family, and you had no idea where Seungmin was - that man remained a mystery.

Hyunjin, however, was lounging on the couch in the lounge, sketchbook in his arms. It appeared that he would be your target for tonight. You leaned on the back of the sofa, looking over the boy's shoulder. "What are you drawing?"

Hyunjin yelped, clutching his sketchpad to his chest. "Jesus, Y/N! You scared the life out of me. I didn’t even know you were here tonight."

You couldn't help but laugh at the absolute terror that had flashed in his eyes when he looked back at you. You really hadn't meant to ambush him - honestly - but it had been entertaining nonetheless. "Sorry, Hyunjin," you apologised, not sounding very sorry at all. You reached over his shoulder and tapped his book. "Can I see?" 

"Um. No." He clutched the notebook closer to his chest. “Not this one.”

You rested your forearms on the back of the couch, leaning next to him. "How come? Are you shy?" 

"I'm not shy." He was looking ahead, but you didn't need to see him. You could hear the eye-roll in his voice. 

"Show me then!" you insisted, prodding his shoulder gently.

"This one is private, okay?"

"Private?" You fake-gasped. "Hyunjin, are you drawing dirty things? Are you a porn artist?"

"What? No!" He squirmed at the accusation.

"You're drawing nasty things, aren't you Hyunjin! It's not hentai, is it? Tentacle porn?" In all honesty, you wouldn't have cared, or judged him at all. But it was funny to play with him.

“Obviously not! I’m not Jisung.”

You snorted at his quip. “Okay, well… are there any drawings I can see?”

He pondered for a moment. “I guess so. You really wanna see?”

“Of course.” You knew Hyunjin was studying fine art, and you were aware that he spent the majority of his time in the makeshift art studio he called a bedroom, but you hadn’t really seen much of his work.

When he led you up there, you immediately understood why he’d want to spend his hours here. It was a cosy respite from the chaos that so regularly consumed the rest of the house. Strings of fairy lights came alive at the touch of a button, casting a warm glow on the space. An easel sat in the corner of the room, and most surfaces were lightly cluttered with various art supplies; notebooks, paintbrushes, pencils, as well as a few completed works. There was a vase of what looked like lavender; you breathed in and the scent confirmed it, sweet and gentle. 

“Take a seat,” Hyunjin murmured, before rifling through a pile of books. He tossed one into your lap as you sat on his bed, although you were a bit more preoccupied with watching him move around the room. He did everything so elegantly, despite his extra-long limbs; it wasn’t hard to tell he was a dancer. He sifted through a box of records, his fingers flipping through them deftly, before setting up a pale blue record player. You turned your attention to the book in your lap.

It seemed to be full of off-handed sketches. They were absolutely gorgeous, but you could tell he’d done them absent-mindedly as he observed the world around him. There was one of Felix and Jisung, cuddling on the couch. A sight you’d seen many times before, you had no doubt it had turned to play-fighting before Hyunjin had even finished his drawing. You flipped the page. A sketch of Changbin curling a weight, his bicep bulging - if Hyunjin had followed the man to the gym just to observe and draw him, you truly understood. You couldn’t help but gasp, as you turned the page once more. You and Minho, standing in the kitchen together, his arms wrapped around you as you beamed. You remembered the moment. He’d been attempting to make lunch, but you’d been rather successful at distracting him.

“Hyunjin, these are so beautiful,” you told him honestly, your heart swelling at the charm with which he captured such everyday moments.

He thanked you, looking a little bashful.

You took a break from flipping through his drawings to survey him for a moment.. He was different when he was sober. Most of the time you'd spent with him, he was near-blackout drunk - utterly white-girl wasted. He was the life of the party, really. Loud, giggly, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Maybe he was just one of those people who took some time to warm up to someone, you considered. You didn't doubt this, but beyond that… 

He just seemed so gentle. So sensitive, so sweet.

"You're… not the typical fratboy, are you?" 

Hyunjin looked over at you from the other side of the room. His eyes were so round, so innocent-looking. "What do you mean?"

You paused, choosing your words carefully. "You're just so lovely, Hyunjin." He blushed, looking away from you and resuming what he was doing - lighting a candle? - but he didn't speak. "Some of the other boys… great guys, don't get me wrong. But they have such fuckboy energy. Not you, though, Hyunjin. You're so sweet."

"Hmm," he hummed, appearing to think on your words. "I guess so. But…" he trailed off.

"But?" you asked. "I don't believe there's a but. Not with you, Hwang Hyunjin." 

His voice was barely above a whisper, hardly louder than the scratching of his pencil. "I'm still a man, Y/N."

You blinked. "Well, I've noticed that." 

Hyunjin shifted uncomfortably. "I'm just saying… men are all the same. Even if some seem nicer."

You placed the book on his bed, your brow furrowed as you tried to figure out what the fuck he was trying to say. "What are you getting at, Hyunjin?" 

"Don't judge a book by its cover, okay? Let's leave it at that." 

You hummed. "I don't want to leave it at that. I feel like you're hiding something now, and I wanna know what it is." Hyunjin stayed quiet, although you saw his jaw tense, noticed his cheeks redden. "So, if I shouldn't judge a book by its cover… does that mean you're not the sweet, kind, artsy boy I thought you were?"

"Well, no. I am those things. I'm just… other things, too."

“Other things?” you asked. You watched him light another candle. The cogs in your brain turned a mile a minute, trying to read the situation. The fairy lights, the candles, the record turning quietly. It all felt so sensual. He wasn’t trying to set the mood, was he? In all fairness, the boys had been constantly joking about how you were fucking your way around the whole frat. And it wasn’t even really a joke. You decided to test the waters. “Hyunjin, do you mean… you’re a little dirty?”

He paused for a moment. “I suppose so.”

“You’re a horrible pervy man? Who brought me up to his room to have his way with me?”

Hyunjin jumped. “What? No! I brought you up here to hang out. And look at my drawings. I’m not trying to take advantage of you!” 

You partly believed him. You chuckled. “What if I like dirty pervy boys, though?”

“Fine,” Hyunjin mumbled. He picked up the book he had been drawing in downstairs, a plain black, very nondescript sketchpad. He brought it to you, dropping it in your lap before going to the chair by his easel, sitting down and looking away from you. You looked at him expectantly, but soon realised you weren’t going to get anything more from him. 

You shrugged and opened up the book.

Oh. He really was a dirty boy.

You'd never in your life seen such a varied array of vulvas. Drawings, paintings, doodles. Shaved, trimmed, hairy. Innies, outies. Small, button-like clits, more enlarged ones. He didn't seem to discriminate at all - the man was pussy-obsessed. You flipped through a few pages, admiring the pussies like a field of flowers. Hyunjin's non-vagina art was beautiful, but he'd clearly found his calling here. 

“So you are a porn artist?”

Hyunjin glared at you. “It’s not porn,” he said scornfully. “It’s art.”

"But, you must watch a ton of porn? For research?" The air quotes you put around research earned you a scathing gaze.

"I don't watch porn at all," Hyunjin stated with a roll of his eyes. "And ninety-nine percent of the time, when guys say that it's a lie. But I'm the one percent, promise. I mainly use erotic photography, for references. Or paint from memory."

"From memory? You must be some kinda pussy expert." 

"Well, you're a dick expert, from what I've heard," Hyunjin murmured, just a little too loud to be under his breath. 

You couldn't help but cackle. "God, you're a bitch." 

Hyunjin smirked, before reassuring you, "I'm not judging, by the way. By all means, keep going."

"Thank you for giving me your permission, Hyunjin."

"Not what I meant and you know it." 

You shrugged, and returned to flipping through the book. "I like this one," you mumbled. The model's legs were parted, dainty fingers spreading their labia. Stretch marks streaked across their inner thighs, pubic hair wild and untamed. These drawings, they were all so real. It made you wonder what you'd look like, through his eyes. How would he draw your lips, what would your clitoris look like sketched out by his hand? How would he look, as he painted your most intimate area? Would he study you closely? Would he lick his lips in concentration, would he peer at you as he tried to envision how you felt, tasted, smelled? Would he touch himself, later, thinking about what's between your legs?

You decided to cut to the chase. 

"Have you ever had a live model before?"

Hyunjin looked like he was about to combust. He looked at you, mouth agape, and you could tell he was trying to determine whether he'd heard you correctly. "I've… I've never had the opportunity." 

You smiled at him sweetly. You loved the way he made you feel as though you were bestowing a blessed opportunity upon him. You had blown his mind with the mere implication that you might let him see you naked. 

"Do you want a live model?"

He nodded, still looking absolutely bewildered that you'd even offer. You didn't know why he was so surprised - you didn't exactly have a representation as a prude. You had openly fucked three of his friends in the last week, and here he was, utterly mystified by the idea of simply looking at your pussy.

You laughed at him, gently. "C'mon then, artist. Get your easel."

"Right - yeah. Let me just - get everything set up." 

Hyunjin turned, and you saw how hurried his actions were as he rooted through drawers, gathering his supplies. You supposed you'd better get yourself ready, too.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he told you, raking through a box of pencils.

"I want to." God, you really did. The rumours were true; you were, in fact, looking to conquer the entire fraternity. 

Hyunjin picked up his easel from the corner of the room, and finally turned back to you. "Oh. You're… naked."

You looked up at him from the bed, where you perched on the edge with your legs crossed. "Well. You're painting my pussy." 

He looked absolutely lost. "I didn't expect to see your… I didn't know you'd take your shirt off." 

You chuckled. "What am I, Winnie the fucking Pooh? Anyways, I didn't think you'd be so surprised by nudity, given the fact you draw genitals as a hobby." 

Hyunjin merely nodded, before setting the canvas on the easel and spreading numerous pencils and what looked like oil pastels on a small table beside it.

"Hey, Hyunjin. Look at me for a second." He did, hesitantly. "Relax a little, okay? It's all fine." 

He nodded again. "I know." He didn't sound sure. He was clearly nervous, which was understandable. But you wondered what it was, exactly, about the situation that was stressing him. Was he overthinking whether this would lead to sex? He wanted it, you could tell. Surely he knew that you wanted it too? Maybe you'd need to make your intentions clearer.

You sat quietly as Hyunjin worked. He brought a small lamp over, positioning it beside the bed. You watched as he tied his hair into a messy bun at the nape of his neck, gathering a few strands that had escaped and tucking them behind his ears. He was so pretty, even when he wasn't all dolled up.

"Okay," Hyunjin breathed. "Ready when you are." 

"Where do you want me?" you asked, and yet again, he looked ready to explode.

"Anywhere's fine. As long as I can see it - you." He cleared his throat. "As long as you're comfortable. That's the most important thing."

You leaned back on your elbows, and slowly spread your legs. Hyunjin looked upon you, mesmerised. His eyes were sparkling. This was how a man would look at a work of art, Michelangelo's David perhaps. This was how a man would gaze out across Nepal, having reached Everest's peak. This was how a man would look upon a real, honest-to-god miracle, a biblically accurate angel come to deliver the news that he is the messiah. That was how Hwang Hyunjin looked at a pussy. God, he really was a perv.

After minutes of scrutiny, during which you'd never felt so fucking visible, he turned to the easel and began his sketch.

He spoke up again, after a few minutes of working. “I don’t mean to overstep, but…”

“You just spent at least three straight minutes staring directly into my vagina,” you stated. “Say whatever you wanna say.”

“What’s actually going on between you and Minho?”

You wished you knew how to answer that. “I guess it’s hard to explain. We haven’t really discussed anything properly.” You thought for a few moments. “I’m sleeping around, obviously, but at the end of each day, I go back to him. That’s all there is to it, really.” 

He peered over at you, curious. “So, it’s true then?”

You looked back at him. “What?”

“You’re sleeping your way around the frat?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“And you’re having fun?”

“Well, obviously. You’re all hot as fuck,” you admitted outright. 

Hyunjin nodded. “I get it. We’re a pretty fun group of guys to fuck. You haven’t fucked Seungmin yet, right?”

You blinked at him. “No. Not yet… to be honest, I don’t know if Seungmin’s even interested.”

Hyunjin waved a hand at you, dismissing your concerns. “Seungmin’s just like that, don’t worry. Anyways, look forward to it - that’ll be a fun one.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. That seemed like a strange thing for a man to say about his friend. Unless… “You sound like you’re speaking from experience, Hyunjin.”

“Duh,” Hyunjin said, as if it was obvious. “You said it yourself, we’re all hot as fuck. Most of us fuck around with each other, from time to time. It’d be a wasted opportunity if we didn’t, really.”

You took a moment to absorb this. You couldn’t believe neither Felix nor Jisung had ever mentioned this to you. Traitorous bastards. They’d been fucking around with their stupid hot friends this whole time, and hadn’t even invited you to watch, or join? They were sick in the head, both of them.

You went quiet, letting Hyunjin sketch. 

There were many beautiful things in this world. Sensual, erotic, carnally beautiful things. The curve of an erection, the tightly-wound curls at its base, heavy hanging balls which almost looked like a heart, when caught in the right position. But this? Hyunjin, leaning over his easel, chewing on his lip as he deliberated over the perfect way to capture you on page. This was something else. This was beauty redefined.

It occured to you that it was impossible to hide anything from him. This took wearing your heart on your sleeve to a new level. He was privy to every one of your desires; he'd see liquid arousal drip from your hole, he'd watch as your clit slowly swelled. And if he took a moment to look away from your pussy (although he was so completely entranced that you didn't know if he'd be capable of it) he may even notice your nipples hardening, your pupils blown out with desire. He'd see just how much you wanted, needed him.

Although, by the looks of it, he was starting to get rather needy himself. His sweatpants were tented, though he was clearly trying to hide it, forearm draped over his crotch. You watched intently, trying to gain as much intel as you could from your obscured view. It looked big - that was about all you could gather.

"Maybe you should just take those off," you chanced. 

Hyunjin looked at you, surprised.

"Your trousers. They look like they're getting a little uncomfortable. And maybe it'd be less weird if we were both naked anyways?" 

Hyunjin put his pencil down, giving you an accusatory look. "You just want to see me naked." 

You grinned brazenly. "Obviously."

Hyunjin laughed. "You are so shameless. Fine, have it your way." 

Satisfied, you watched as he pulled off his shirt. Vast planes of tanned skin revealed themselves to you, and you fought not to drool. He was far from the muscular beast Changbin was, but he was surprisingly toned. Curved biceps, lightly defined abs, sweet little pecs with the loveliest pink nipples. So many places to kiss, lick, suck. And that was before he'd even taken his trousers off. 

He stood, and as he tugged down his trousers, you could've sworn that his dick sprung back up with enough force to knock you out. You kind of wanted it to knock you out. It had a beautiful curve to it, not quite as thick as some that you'd seen recently - your mind flitted back to Changbin and his coke-can cock - but it was still undoubtedly long enough to ruin your pussy. And so fucking pretty. Your eyes scanned him slowly; the tip was the prettiest shade of pink, the long smooth shaft, the perfectly round, clean-shaven balls. He was perfect.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked, snapping you out of your staring. He didn't meet your gaze, but you could tell he wasn't too shy. He knew how beautiful he was, and he was used to people staring. 

You simply smirked at him. "Keep drawing, boy." 

You felt your clit begin to throb - you couldn’t help it. You burned under his gaze each time he looked back at you studiously. You knew what Hyunjin was like, with his art. Although you were both clearly desperate, he would continue drawing for hours, putting off the inevitable pleasure that you both craved, in pursuit of his next masterpiece before he let you both indulge. If you wanted his touch, you would have to intervene.

It took him a surprising amount of time to notice that you were stroking your clit. He was peering at the canvas, eyes narrowed. You could tell he took his craft seriously. It was admirable, but incredibly frustrating when you needed him to just turn his head ever so slightly.

"Oh."

There it was.

"What are you doing?" he asked, looking at you with a blank stare. He looked you in the eyes, rather than in the crotch. 

"Enjoying the view," you repeated, inserting a finger and spreading the wetness across your clit.

Hyunjin turned back to the canvas, apparently unperturbed, but you saw his dick twitch. You had him. You continued to circle your clit gently, letting out a soft moan as you did so.

Hyunjin snickered under his breath. "Screw you," he whispered, his hand wrapping around his length gently. Still, though, he didn't stop drawing. You watched as he stroked himself, torturously slow, head slowly disappearing into his fist before reappearing once more, all the while leaning over the easel.

And you'd thought Minho had been a master of restraint. Hyunjin was different, though. He wasn't hiding how much he needed this. He was perfectly happy to show you his rock hard, leaking cock. More than happy to jerk off languidly before you. But he was also making it clear that he wasn't going to rush into anything. He'd sit there and paint all night, if you let him.

Of course you wouldn't let him. 

"Oh, put the fucking pencil down." 

He met this with less resistance than you expected, and didn't hesitate, even for a moment. "Fine, but I really do want to finish this painting soon." He turned in his seat to face you, fucking into his fist as he watched you.

You shuddered under your own touch, fingers swiping over your bundle of nerves and sending jolts throughout your body. Your pleasure felt so heightened, as you watched the man before you. His hands were gorgeous, veins popping out as he stroked himself, long fingers wrapped around his member. His balls swung gracefully as he did so - how did he do everything with such elegance?

You thought about how he might feel inside you. His dick was so long, you knew he’d hit all the spots you needed him to. You knew he’d be princely and refined, even while fucking you. Even when he reaches his peak, when cum spurts out of that gorgeous pink tip, even if he lost his composure… he’d do it with poise.

You could hardly take it any more. “I need you, Hyunjin.”

“But I’m having so much fun watching,” he said, his voice hoarse - he sounded so fucked out already. 

You groaned. “You’ll have more fun fucking me, and you know it.”

Hyunjin grinned as he shook his head, but showed no resistance. “C’mere, baby,” he murmured, his long, slender fingers gripping you by the hips and dragging you towards the edge of the bed. “You ready for it?”

“More than ready, fuck, please.”

Hyunjin pushed the tip of his dick inside you, ever so slowly. You sighed happily; there was that feeling you craved. Centimetre by centimetre, he entered you deeper, gradually filling you up more and more. Eventually, when his hips ground into yours, when he was fully buried inside you, he let out the sweetest whine you’d ever heard. 

You couldn’t help but grin at the sound. “That feel good, pretty boy?” 

He nodded, eyebrows furrowed as he fixated on the feeling. The slow pace was agonising, the drag of his cock against your g-spot positively electric. He was fucking you as if it was an art form, as if his dick was a paintbrush and you were his canvas. And, fuck, he was a master of his craft.

“Legs up, baby. I need to get deeper.” His voice was low, strained. You did as he instructed, hooking your ankles over his shoulders. “God, that’s good.”

Had anyone ever fucked you this deeply before? You weren’t sure. Although, to be fair, you weren’t certain you knew your own name, at that point. All you could see were stars, and the angel of the man above you. He pulled himself all the way out, until the head of his dick was barely inside you, before plunging back inside, slowly, slowly. Each time, he pressed up against your cervix, and it hurt, but fuck, it felt so good. 

The room was hot, the air heavy. Sweat was dripping from Hyunjin’s forehead and landing on your skin. You were consumed with his scent, lavender and fresh cotton, You were covered in him, you felt his touch on every inch of your body, surrounded by soft moans from both yourself and him.

His hands explored your body as he fucked you. They tasted your thighs, squeezing gently. They caressed your hips, your waist, your hips, your chest. He handled you so gently, treating you with the utmost care. You could picture him so clearly, manoeuvring a delicate statue, arranging flowers in a vase, manipulating clay on a pottery wheel. He treated you with the exact same respect and admiration.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece, babe.” He thrusted hard, but still so slow. “So fucking beautiful.”

Hyunjin looked down to the site where your bodies joined. He was enthralled, eyes fixated on the sight of himself disappearing inside you. 

“Can I - shit -” His hands were shaking slightly, as he caressed your stomach. “Can I get out my camera? Just - fuck - just to take some reference photos. I need to paint you over and over, please-” His words trailed off into a whine.

You nodded. “Of course.” 

He pulled out, and you gasped, feeling a sudden emptiness. 

“Hurry,” you whimpered, as he gathered his equipment. He returned to you, kneeling before you and capturing the sight before him. You felt yourself clenching around nothing, desperate to have him inside you once more. He didn’t leave you waiting too long fortunately, sliding his dick back inside you, snapping more photos as he did so, still moving at that lazy, unhurried tempo. It drove you crazy. It felt amazing, of course. He was hitting all the right places, sending shivers down your spine and spreading butterflies throughout your tummy. But with a dick that perfect, you wanted him to thoroughly destroy you.

“Put your fucking camera away and fuck me properly,” you urged him.

Hyunjin smirked down at you. “Minho wasn’t lying. You really do get bratty and impatient.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fucking rail me before I throw you on this bed and take things into my own hands.”

Hyunjin laughed, shaking his head as he put his camera safely on his desk. “Relax, hon, I’ll fuck you.” He returned to the bed, looming over you with a teasing smile. “Are you sure you’re ready? You sure you can take it?”

“So help me god, Hwang Hyunjin, if you don’t-”

Hyunjin swiftly cut you off, thrusting deep inside you. Your words trailed off into a high-pitched squeak. Sassy as he was, he did as he was told; he fucked you hard, pounding into you powerfully. One of his hands gripped your thigh, holding it close to him, the other tweaking your nipple, sending yet more bliss running through your system. 

“You’re so fucking tight, hon,” Hyunjin rasped. So you’d heard.

“Keep fucking me, Hyunjin - fuck me harder!” You gazed upon his slender frame, tanned skin glistening with sweat. Maybe it was just because he was fucking you so well, but you could’ve sworn he was a real live angel, an almighty being. No person was this beautiful - no human being fucked this well.

“Fuck, I don’t know how long I can last like this,” Hyunjin grunted. He had a dark look in his eye.

“Cum then,” you encouraged him, “Give me your cum, baby.”

He shook his head. “Not until you cum first.” What a gentleman.

His thumb went to your clit, rubbing gentle circles into it, the perfect amount of pressure. It was pushing you over the edge, embarrassingly quickly. You felt your heart rate rise, your skin begin to tingle. Your climax was approaching - you felt it throughout your whole body.

“Hyunjin - Hyunjin!”

“That’s it, baby, let go,” he coaxed you. 

“I’m cumming!” With your announcement, it crashed over you like a wave. It exploded out from your core, white heat shooting through your entire body, coursing through your veins. You distantly heard yourself babbling Hyunjin’s name, although you couldn’t say you were quite lucid enough to be aware of it. All you knew were the fireworks spreading from your pussy, sparks erupting, setting you alight. 

“You’re clenching around me so tight,” Hyunjin whined. “Shit - Y/N!”

He pulled out, gripping his dick at its base, crying out as he painted your pussy, shooting his cum across your folds. You watched intently as the hot white spurts landed on your clit, your lips, dripping down towards your asshole. 

“There we go, baby,” you sighed, catching your breath. 

Hyunjin kneeled before you, also panting with exertion. He leaned in, locking his eyes with yours before licking a gentle stripe across your clit. He hummed. “Tastes good. Wanna taste?” You nodded, wide-eyed. He delved in, licking and sucking, and you moaned at the sensation on your oversensitive parts. He sucked on your clit, swiped his tongue through your folds, spread your cheeks and licked at your asshole. You couldn’t help but squeal.

He stood, leaning over you and gripping your cheeks gently, forcing your mouth open. You stuck out your tongue compliantly, waiting for the salty substance to reach you. He allowed it to dribble from his tongue slowly, landing in your mouth. 

Hyunjin pulled away. “Don’t swallow. Stick out your tongue, let me see.” You complied, and he picked up his camera once more, snapping more shots of you. Your face, this time, rather than your genitals. “Fucking gorgeous,” he whispered.

He put the camera down. “You can swallow now - I know you want to.” He sat on the bed beside you, lounging back, and you cuddled into his side. You watched as he clicked through the photos he’d taken; your dripping wet pussy, his dick teasing your entrance, burying itself inside you. Cum dripping down your clit, decorating you. Your face, eyes hazy, looking beyond fucked-out, tongue coated in the tangy mix of Hyunjin’s cum and spit. 

“We should blow this one up and hang it in the hall,” Hyunjin remarked. 

You snickered weakly, tired as you slumped against the man. “You boys would like that, huh? You’re all obsessed with me.”

“And for good reason. I see what the hype is about.” Hyunjin kissed your forehead softly. It was so tender - this was a no-strings-attached hook-up, nobody was under any illusions here. But it seemed that everything he did, every action he carried out towards anyone, was so filled with love.

“Hype? What do you guys say about me, when I’m not here?”

“That would be telling,” Hyunjin responded slyly. “Let’s just say, you’ve gotten some pretty good reviews.”

You yawned. “That doesn’t surprise me.” 

“Who’s next then, hm?” he asked.

“That would be telling,” you responded with a mocking tone. “I’m tired. You want me to stay here tonight, Hyune?”

“It’s okay, hon. Go crawl into Minho’s bed, he should be home soon.” 

You sat up, kissing Hyunjin’s pretty, plump lips. “Thank you for giving me a good time tonight, Hyunjin.”

He smiled. “Thank you for being my muse.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

When Minho returned home to find you curled up in his bed, you were barely awake, but still hanging on to your consciousness.

“Hey there, sleepy.”

“Hey, Minho.”

He paused, looking at you, eyes narrowed. “I know that smile. Who have you been with tonight, then?”

You gave him a smug grin. “Guess.”

“Not Jisung again?” He got into bed beside you, looking amused as he wrapped his arms around your frame. “You haven’t even showered, babe. I can smell Hyunjin on you.”

“You’re so good at this game,” you said, your voice slurred with tiredness.

Minho pulled you closer, kissing your neck from behind and making you sigh contentedly. He pulled you closer, and you felt his length press into you from behind - was he getting hard, thinking about you and his friend together? Was he imagining fucking you, with the scent of Hyunjin’s sweat still marking your skin?

He whispered in your ear, confirming your suspicions. “Are you too tired for another round?” 

You turned around in his arms, eyes twinkling. “Never.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Coriolanus Snow knew firsthand the deadly risks of childbirth, considering he watched in horror as a young child when his own mother and baby sister died, but he knew that he needed an heir to carry on the Snow name. When he planned on marrying for hate, well, he could care less what happened to his wife during the delivery.

But, somehow, all his plans and views on marriage changed when he met you. You were hired as his secretary, so you spent a lot of time with him. Coriolanus never planned on falling in love with you, but he did. Hell, he even killed your boyfriend in order to make you single again so you'd be able to go out with him.

And when you accepted his offer of dinner, which came with a single white rose, a few months after the death of your longtime boyfriend, he did everything in his power to make you fall in love with him. Coriolanus was successful, you fell hard and fast for him. He was too charming not to let wiggle into your heart, and into your bed.

The president needed a first lady, so he proposed and married you. But it was a bit scandalous, considering you were his secretary. After a couple of negative articles in the media, well, Coriolanus got rid of the writers and made sure that the studios and printing presses in the Capitol (all of Panem actually) knew that if another foul word was printed about his relationship with his wife then he'd kill every single person in the media office.

Safe to say, only articles praising President Snow and First Lady Snow’s love and glamorous life hit the press after that.

And then, of course, came the subject of children. After discussing it, you stopped taking birth control. And you ended up getting pregnant right away.

Seeing you so round with his child gave Coriolanus joy. Gave him an ego boost because he was the one to plant his seed in you. You were carrying his child. His precious baby.

The baby was no longer looked at as an heir, but as a baby to love.

And it was all because of you.

“Coryo, I have my top list of baby names finished.” You told your husband, who was lounging in bed wearing only a pair of sleep pants.

Coryo watched as you sat across the room, placing his fountain pen back into its holder after writing down the final name on your baby name list.

After discussing it, you both decided to wait until the baby was born to discover the gender. You wanted to be surprised and Coriolanus just wanted you to be happy.

“Are you going to let me see it, my darling?” Your platinum blonde husband asked as you slowly stood up from his corner desk.

Placing a hand on your large belly, you smiled, “Of course I'm going to let you see it.”

Grabbing the list, you slowly walked over to the bed. After getting into bed, you handed the list to your husband. “Tell me what ones you like, Mister President.”

Coryo kissed your cheek and smiled. “Of course, First Lady Snow.”

He read over the list, only to discover that you had more boys' names than girls written down. After giving it some thought, he told you, “Cassian Xandros is perfect for our son. It's a strong name.” Mulling it over, he pointed to a name on the paper and announced, "Cersei sounds nice for a girl.”

“It's not nice, Coryo, it's beautiful.” You countered, pulling the list out of his hands. “Looks like the baby has a name; all we need to do is wait for it to come.”

The day your daughter Cersei Snow was born was the day that your husband decided to hate her.

The day didn't start out with him hating his baby girl.

No, it started with your water breaking and a trip to the hospital. Coriolanus canceled all of his meetings, briefings, and work for the day just to be by your side.

He was very supportive during your labor. Letting you hold his hand during painful contracts, smoothing your hair back away from your sweaty face with a damp rag, and buzzing the nurse multiple times for both ice chips and pain medication for you.

The nurses all gossiped amongst each other about how President Snow was the perfect doting husband and and father to be. That he'd make a very good father.

Little did they know.

Little did anyone know what would happen once the doctor came into the room and announced that it was time to start pushing.

Coriolanus was by your side as you pushed and pushed. With every push he noticed you were getting weaker and it worried him.

Looking between your weak, pale form, and the doctor that was sitting at the bottom of your bed, Coriolanus asked, “Dr. Wellock, my wife's growing weaker. Is there something you can do to get the baby out?”

“There's nothing to be worried about, President Snow. Labor’s a strenuous event; many first time mothers grow fatigue and can push for a while before the baby crowns.” The doctor told your husband, more or less blowing off his concern.

You were exhausted but determined to have your baby. Even tho you were feeling dizzy, you continued to bear down and push every time you were told to.

Then, when you felt that you didn't have any more strength coursing thru your body, you gave birth to your baby.

You saw Dr. Wellock hold up the baby and announce, “It's a girl.” Suddenly, your vision began to get fuzzy as you heard the doctor ask your husband, “President Snow, would you like to cut the cord?”

Coriolanus was about to answer whenever he saw you faint, paired with blood pooling around your legs and staining the bed.

“What's wrong with my wife?!” Coriolanus asked, fear filling him as the doctor quickly cut the baby's cord and tossed her to a waiting nurse. “Dr. Wellock, is my wife dying?!” Coriolanus asked in a panicked scream, while the nurse quickly cleaned the baby and wrapped her into a blanket.

“Your wife's hemorrhaging, President Snow.” Dr. Wellock told your husband, only to point to the nurse and tell her, “Give him the baby and get him out of here.”

So, the nurse dumped the baby in Coriolanus' arms and pushed him out of the door. Before the president could blink, the door was slammed shut I'm his face.

As Dr. Wellock and his nurse worked to staunch your bleeding; save your life, your husband stood outside of your room with your newborn baby girl in his arms.

Coriolanus looked down at the tiny baby wriggling and crying in his hold, only to look at the door of your room and realize that you're dying because of the thing in his arms.

Cersei’s what the two of you decided to name her, when she wasn't a danger. Wasn't the reason you're dying.

Coriolanus felt disgust and hatred for the newborn in his arms. He didn't want to hold her anymore. She was the reason why you're knear death right now.

So, your husband found a nurse to pawn the baby on.

Coriolanus swore to himself that he'd never touch that evil little creature ever again. That he'd never love her.

It didn't matter if you lived or died, he was going to hate your daughter until the day he died.

You didn't die in childbirth, but it was a close call. The doctor explained that you had bad hemorrhaging due to your uterus not contracting correctly after the birthing process, causing uncontrollable bleeding. You were given a blood transfusion, once Dr. Wellock managed to stop the bleeding, due to your blood pressure being too low after such a large blood loss.

You were out of it for days, but you survived.

You were happy to be alive and with your family. Coriolanus and Cersei.

But it didn't take long for you to notice that Coriolanus never picked up your daughter. He never held her, hell, Coryo never seemed too interested in her.

Unless it was for a photo op. Then he turned into the perfect hands on dad that would pose for pictures. But as soon as the cameras stop flashing, the president stops caring about his daughter.

You thought that Coriolanus would get over it; would come to accept your daughter in time. But…sadly…your daughter's first birthday is fastly approaching and your husband still doesn't seem interested in her, unless it's for a photo op.

It saddened you, knowing that Coriolanus was offish to Cersei because she wasn't the son he probably wanted to carry on the Snow name. You loved your daughter and you were sure that your Coryo loved her too, but was just disappointed that she wasn't the strong son he probably had his heart set on.

He did pick out a boy name right off the bat when you handed him your list of baby names last year.

Maybe if Coryo had a son to carry on the Snow name, he'd be happier in his role of fatherhood?

Coriolanus walked into the sunroom only to cringe when he saw you coddling Cersei. The damn little creature nearly murdered you during the birthing process, but you were holding her as she napped on you.

Goodness, there was a portable cradle in the room for a reason.

“She's nearly a year old, you shouldn't be letting her sleep on you like that.” Coriolanus told you, taking a seat at the small tea table. He never even tried to hide the disgust in his voice.

“There's nothing wrong with holding her, Coryo? She's my baby girl.” You responded, causing your husband to just shake his head while reaching for the teapot that was in the middle of the table.

“She's a toddler now, darling. She's not a baby anymore.” Coriolanus scoffed, pouring himself a cup of tea. “Do you want to have afternoon tea with me, or are you going to coddle Cersei all day?” He asked, grabbing a macaron and placing it onto the small plate that was in front of him.

“I'll have tea with you, Coryo.” You thinly smiled, only to rise from your spot on the sofa and place your daughter into her portable crib.

As you made your way over to the table, your husband fixed you a cup of tea and plated you macarons. When you sat down, you decided that now was the time to bring up the subject of having more children.

Little did you know, after your near death experience, Coriolanus got himself snipped. So…it was impossible for you to have any more children.

But he wasn't going to tell you that.

Reaching for your teacup, you told your husband,“Coryo, I think we should have another baby.”

“No.” Was Coriolanus’ quick and cold reply.

“But, we could have a son this time “ You pressed, knowing that your husband wanted a son. Wanted the Snow name to live on.

But you were wrong. Coriolanus didn't want a son to carry on the Snow name, he wanted you alive to be by his side. He loves you to the point of obsessive possession. The love Coriolanus has for you is all consuming, like a plague of locusts devouring an entire field of crops in District 11.

Coryo took a long sip of his tea, only to cut eyes with you over his teacup and firmly say, “I said no, Y/N.” placing his teacup down, he gave you the lame excuse of, “I'm a very busy man, my little dove. Being president takes much of my time away from my fatherly duties; we can only handle raising one child. More than one would be too much for us, considering you refuse a nanny.”

“I told you when I was pregnant with Cersei that I want to raise our kids. I don't want somebody else raising them, no matter how it might be easier considering your role in politics.”

“My role in politics?” Coriolanus chuckled, biting into his macaron. “I'm the President of Panem, that's more than just a role in politics.”

Sipping on your tea, you sighed, “Fine, Cersei’ll be an only child.”

Grabbing your hand in his, Coryo promised, “Our daughter will never want for anything. She'll be showered in a life of luxury.”

That wasn't true. Your daughter grew up wanting her father's love, but she never got it. Coriolanus was always so distant and cold with Cersei.

She hated him, but that was fine with your husband since he hated her right back.

You always thought that your husband resented your daughter for not being a son, for not being able to carrying on the might and noble Snow name.

But that wasn't the case at all.

Coriolanus Snow hated his daughter, Cersei, because you nearly died in childbirth with her. Nothing would every change that. He'd hate her til the day she died.

At least when your daughter died, it was bringing your beautiful granddaughter into the world.

A granddaughter Coryo named Celeste Snow, since your daughter was unwed at the time of her unexpected death.

Your husband was a better grandfather than he was a father. You thought that he might've felt guilty for being so distant and busy during Cersei’s childhood, that he decided to right his wrongs while you raised Celeste.

Little did you know, Coriolanus loved his granddaughter because she killed her mother in the birthing bed.

President Snow was a horrible, heartless man with a soul darker than a black hole. But at least he loved you and loved his granddaughter.

Too bad he hated his only child her entire life.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503, @shari-berri, @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch, @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons, @qoopeeya, @mfnqueen1, @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

[n3ptoonz]

Ok ok ok we got the boys getting walked in on soooo what if Earthrealm boys walked in on US?

i knew somebody would have this idea 😈 REVERSE REVERSE 🔄

these are gonna be drabbles instead of bullet points

implied scent knk mention, sphinx can't stick to a theme to save her life

Scorpion

Kuai Liang was shocked at first, but quickly understood. He's gone a lot and knows that. He's not upset at all by this, what gets the job done in his absence is what he roots for, but he'd still rather be the one making you sound like that. Lowkey is impressed with how well you must've been going at it too. 'Have I ever made them sound like that...? Hold up-' he thinks. Once you see him and are like woahh when did you get here he's like "Curiosity got the best of me, I'd like to help if you'll have me." as if you weren't already jumping on him before he finished his sentence.

Sub-Zero

"You just couldn't wait, could you?" Bi-Han said, standing over you. You jumped at the sight of him looming over your almost fucked-out glow from your own hands and splayed out on the couch; just how the fuck was he so quiet?! As you nervously try to explain, thinking he's actually upset at you, he interrupted you again by grumbling and picking you up to properly escort you to your shared bedroom. He laid you down and got on top of you, pressing himself between your legs. "I'm not angry with you. I just wish you had waited." he said before letting himself hang free. "But I don't mind finishing the job."

Kenshi Takahashi

When Kenshi checked out where the noise was coming from, he caught you grinding against a lounge pillow with his shirt over your nose. Once your eyes opened and saw him standing in the doorway half shocked half into it, you kicked the pillow off the bed and sat up. "No, no, please, don't let me interrupt." he teased half jokingly. Honestly he could see himself encouraging the concept. He has many duties to attend to, so who would he be to tell you not to tend to yourself? He walked further into the room with a more serious look on his face, he really wanted to apologize he couldn't always be there, but since he was now there's nothing stopping him from helping his lover out.

Smoke

Tomas was beyond flustered. He planned to come over to your place and cook together to make up for lost time since he's often very busy. He had a key to your house so he naturally just walked in, set his stuff down, and went to go find you. "Hey, you ready to cook-" cue a Disney studio audience gasp. After like a full 60 seconds of him stuttering over his words he apologized many times before you stopped him. You offered for him to help you out, and now he was pushing down his own immediate boner, but a simple 'yes' sealed the deal for the both of you.

Johnny Cage

This sexy fucking prick. Unbeknownst to you Johnny just sat and watched from the door of your bedroom, truly fascinated by how needy you were for him. Before you could even reach a semblance of climax, here he waltzed in all smug, "11 times." he said. You gasped and threw the covers over yourself, asking what the hell he's on about now (you're used to him popping up unannounced). "You said my name 11 times, new record babe." He knew your next remark would either be witty or frustrated, so he spoke again. "Ah, ah, ah, let's make it 20."

Kung Lao

Kung Lao is also another sexy fucking prick, but a little worse. You have been walked in on before but not thwacking the noodle or flicking the bean, something less crazy like changing, and yet he still was a teaser. You recalled if he was coming over today and reached the conclusion that he would have no reason to, so you got to work. Silly silly you, Johnny and Lao are known for showing up out of nowhere, you knew that! So there you were doing your thing, and boom, Kung Lao pulled up and caught you by accident. He had no regrets though, all you saw looking at you was a smirk, clear idea on his face, and his signature dimples smiling back.

Raiden

Look guys idgaf what anybody feels or says, I can say he's baby while also knowing a lot, obviously. Raiden is a grown ass man with a dick and balls, but he's never walked in on someone before. Me personally I believe he'd be in shock, and he was. Why? Not only because he walked in on AND interrupted your own time, but you were whispering and moaning his name too. Like Smoke he'd be shifting where he stood trying to control his aching boner, but surely once you gave him the okay to enter your room, hell, even touch you? Game fucking on. He's still nervous but wouldn't let that stop him!

Liu Kang

Liu Kang may be a God, but obviously he cannot tell the future. He just created the world and tried to maintain peace as much as he could. He can predict things, and that included what you were doing while he wasn't there. He figured with how much he was gone it wouldn't be surprising if you took matters into your own hands, and he was right. He slowly rounded the corner to the sight of you using some kind of toy and muttering incoherent words that lead to his name somewhere in there, but it didn't bother him. In fact, when he made his presence known he offered to help including the toy if you wanted.

Geras

Lowkey I don't think Geras would know what to do. He doesn't interact with mortals much technically outside of Liu. So like, if you were waiting for him back at his chambers especially when he took so long to come back due to business, he'd be stuck in his tracks. He'd say there's no need to apologize but rather explain your desire to him so he could fulfill whatever void was left in his absence. I feel like he'd be reassuring too if you were embarrassed and happily make your wishes his command.

a/n: OKKAAAYYYYY i got this out FUCK writers block and periods and life IS A BITCH and ik i recycle the same stuff but like hey, it works🥱

[pearlsinmyhair]

˖⋆˚₊⊹ his muse

hobie brown x fem!reader

this has been in my drafts for. forever. like it was summer when i wrote it on a whim. this initially started as a request for hobie with a reader that came from wealth. the vivienne westwood imagery picked up from there, and i just kinda had fun with it. and now im posting it- huzzah!

warnings: smoking (cigarettes). mentions of drinking. slight nsfw at the very end. meet-cute that leads to smut. hobie being a flirt. fem!reader.

hobie is in the midst of a creative rut that he can’t get out of, no matter how much he tries to. that is, until some inspiration walks through the door.

hobie was in a musical rut.

which never happened to him. never. if he needed a subject for a song, all he had to do was look outside for five minutes or watching the news for even less to have a subject.

that was the wonderful thing about hating the establishment: infinite cruelty, infinite song ideas.

but here he was, staring down at his guitar and picking at strings aimlessly. nothing came to him, no note or melody stuck out to him as song worthy.

he was sitting on the worn couch in his band’s makeshift studio, crosslegged and hunched over his guitar like a madman.

a soft knock came from the doorway, and he looked up to find one of his band mates hitting their knuckles against the doorway.

“you need to get out, man. you’re cooped up.” he said, stepping into the room to stand over hobie like a mother hen. “some fresh air will do you good.”

hobie scoffed, never one to take orders from anyone. but then he exhaled and leaned back, looking up at his friend with an exasperated expression.

“and where exactly do you intend for us to go?” he asked lowly, grumbling.

that’s exactly how he ended up here, in a music club full of bodies he didn’t want to touch and liquor he didn’t want to drink.

it wasn’t a traditional club scene by any means. It was a bit more artistic, leaning away from rave-style places that he’d gone to before. but it still wasn’t his preferred place.

he nursed a shirley temple, which his friend had shoved into his hand unceremoniously before disappearing into the crowd. hobie had decided that he would be the designated driver, and he understood that his band mates were going to take full advantage of that fact.

when they entered the place, his drummer had leaned over.

“maybe you’ll find a muse, hobes. i’m sure there’s plenty of pretty things in this place to give you ideas.” the boy wiggled his brows, and hobie promptly shoved him away with a chuckle.

now, he leaned against a counter and wondered what the hell he was doing. this wasn’t air. this was just distracting noise.

and said noise was becoming a little too much for his senses.

he made eye contact with one of his more sober mates, gesturing that he was going to go somewhere private. he sent a text to their group chat as well saying the same thing.

not a role model

-> heading to the back, text or call if you need me

little drummer boy

-> you’re no fun, man.

not a role model

-> 🖕🏿

he moved down a hallway, the sound of bass and electronic beats fading into a pleasant jazz sound that made its way through the speakers overhead.

the space behind the actual club was a kind of lounge, filled with warm ambiance and vinyl records and leather arm chairs. when his friends brought him here, he always inevitably retreated to this quieter space.

it was ironic really. the punk unable to handle crowds and noise. but this was a much different setting from his own shows, so he cut himself some slack.

he sunk into one of the armchairs in a side room, his head lolling back to look up at the ceiling. his head slightly throbbed, and he began to regret not drinking water.

he reached in his pocket to pull out a cigarette box.

he wasn’t a casual smoker, not by a long shot. it just helped to have something to drag on sometimes, something to burn his throat while he was thinking.

right as he put the cig to his lips, the door banged open and slammed shut once more, the lock sliding home.

his spider-senses told him to prepare, but when he looked up they stopped buzzing.

because a girl leaned against the wall across from him, her chest heaving and her eyes wide.

she looked afraid, scared. the way her fingers trembled alerted him to the sheer amount of adrenaline running through her veins currently.

and she hadn’t even noticed him yet. he took a moment to glance over her.

she wore a pretty little lace dress, black and short, with straps that barely cling to her shoulders. his eyes drifted down her bare legs to the black platform gogo boots on her feet, and he was impressed with the height she was balancing on. he knew from experience that those shits weren’t easy to master.

he had been a model once, and he knew enough to see that the girls clothes were expensive. like, wearing his rent expensive.

she took an anxious step, only to wobble like a baby deer, legs too long to stand properly.

maybe not so stable after all.

when she still didn’t notice him (too busy listening to the door), he opened his mouth to make himself known.

“runnin’ from something, little fawn?”

her eyes snapped to him, and she jumped slightly when she realized that someone else was in the room with her. her wide doe eyes did nothing to help disapprove the nickname. she opened and closed her mouth to speak, struggling to get the words out.

“i’m not running.”

he chuckled.

“no? do ya’ slam and lock doors at clubs often then?”

she scoffed at him, rolling her eyes. she took a step away from the door, though he could tell she was keeping track of any noise.

“i’m just…catching my breath.” she said, pulling at the necklace around her throat.

hobie’s eyes drifted down to it, surprised to find a string of pearls with an all too familiar saturn pendent.

his curiosity got the best of him. “real or fake?”

her eyes darted up to meet his, and she looked away in embarrassment as she said “real.”

he let out an impressed whistle. “that’s why you’re running.” he mumbled as the pieces clicked together.

she gave him an incredulous look, eyebrows furrowing in a way that he found adorable.

“my guess” he said as he stood from the chair, taking a step towards the girl. “is that you definitely aren’t supposed to be here. rich girl, pretty dress, innocent look. this place is practically forbidden for your like.”

her gaze hardened into a glare. “and what exactly is my like, hobie brown?”

he smirked. “you know my name.”

a statement. she deflated slightly.

“i’ve been to your shows.” she said, voice lowering. it was just enough to make him realize how close they were. he registered her body language quickly, noting how she didn’t shy away. so he didn’t either.

“interestin’, doll. does your daddy know?”

“don’t condescend me.”

he took a step back then, raising his hand in an ‘i come in peace’ gesture. “easy there. just askin.”

he went to grab a lighter to light his cigarette, reaching down into his jackets pocket. when he found nothing, he groaned softly.

a click made him look up, only to be met with the girl holding up a lighter of her own. he leaned forward to light his cigarette, and she held his gaze as the sizzling sound breiflu filled their silence.

“as you can see” she said softly. “i am not quite ‘my like’.”

he let out a puff of smoke, making sure to turn his head so that it didn’t flow into her pretty face. she coughed anyway.

he chucked. “what you doin’ with a light if you don’t smoke?”

she flipped the lighter in her hand, and it took a moment to notice that it was one of the silver heart ones that were popular.

“you like vivienne, huh?” he said, looking down at her with half lidded eyes as he took another drag.

“what can i say, i have a thing for punks.” she replied, looking up at him through her lashes.

oh, he was going to eat her.

“s’that so?” he asked, wanting to drag whatever admission she was holding in. he leaned close over her, and she stretched her neck to look right up at him. this close, he could smell whatever shampoo she used.

she was off limits. but he never really abided by rules, did he?

“what’re you runnin’ from, doll?” he asked, tapping his cigarette out as he waited for an answer.

“my father sent a body guard out to find me. i snuck out, and the man’s in the club right now.” she said, watching the way his lips curled around the cigarette.

the air kicked on, and the girl below him shivered. he shrugged off his jacket with a sigh, pulling it around her. she accepted it gratefully, practically nuzzling up against the collar.

fuck, he was a goner.

“better get you out of here, then.” he said, using the edges of his jacket to tug her closer. she smirked, allowing him to pull her against his body. “that would be great.”

he leaned down as he texted the chat, brushing his lips against the top of her ear as he typed.

not a role model

-> hey, i got someone i need to take home. anyone sober?

little drummer boy

-> the fuck are you on about, why would anyone be sober.

fresh meat

-> i am, go enjoy yourself hobes.

thank god for tyler, he thought as he pulled back the collar of his jacket to press his mouth to the girls jaw.

as she snuck him into her room later, the lyrics of a song began to write themselves in his head.

and as he thrust into her, her hands fumbling against her silk sheets and her moans in his ear, he realized that he had found his muse after all.

hobie’s masterlist

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS ⏤LOVE EYES

SUM. : you don't see it but the boys have love eyes for you

G. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james ; tattoo artist sirius ; piercer remus ; oblivious, innocent reader ; love eyes marauders ; sirius is a womanizer ; he doesn't care to notice though ; snack runs with sirius on his motorbike ; shoulder massages for remus ; james loves picking you up ; james is so silly ; domestic baking with james ; wolfstar moment ; lots of hugging

LENGTH : 2.7k

Sirius watches lovingly as you balance your laptop on your thighs and work through an essay you had to complete by the following week. When you had time away from final year lectures, seminars and practicals, you would usually occupy the private office and lounge room of the studio’s top floor in order to work through your uni assignments. The university libraries were quite suffocating in that they pressured you into unhealthy productivity mindsets, which often lead to unhealthy eating habits and a shortcut to burn out. However, you had found solace in the calm of the tattoo studio’s office that usually remained empty throughout the day when the boys were attending to clients. The calm silence was welcome and helped with your personal productivity and pacing of assigned workload. 

Usually, Remus would accompany you, doing mundane admin tasks that helped manage the parlour and its clients but he had to leave as he had several appointments today. You’ve made some decent headway with the essay in Remus’s absence and you were using some of the momentum to get even more ahead when you felt a familiar presence take a seat beside you before throwing their arm over your shoulders. 

“Hello, dollface,” Sirius whispers and presses a gentle kiss against your temple. 

“Hey Siri,” you acknowledge him with a sweet smile and tilt your head against him briefly before continuing with your essay. Focused with your brows furrowed and gently gnawing at your lip, Sirius silently admires your concentration; it looks good on you, a meritorious contrast to your usually soft features and expressions.

However, as much as he loves this side of you, he loves your attention more, “...are you really gonna just ignore me?” he whines in his usual playful manner, prompting you to roll your eyes. 

“Sirius, I have to finish this essay—”

“Not until the following week, so you have time right?” you don’t answer him. He was right but you still needed to work on the essay. Grumbling under his breath, Sirius leans his weight against you and sighs and huffs and whines in between minutes of silence. Even though this type of selfish distraction would typically irritate you, you know that you could afford stepping away from the essay so it was more than entertaining to hear his fussing. You also thoroughly enjoyed Sirius’s floundering and adorable attempts to guilt you into paying him some attention; it was almost adorable, like a puppy wanting attention. 

It wasn’t until Sirius gave a significantly frustrated whine that you exaggerated a sigh and saved your progress to close your laptop screen, “...I’m all yours, Sirius,” you finally conceded, reaching a hand up to lift his hair out of his face. 

With a wide grin, Sirius leans his forehead against yours, his eyes sparkling with content and satisfaction at having finally won you over, “Snack run?” at his suggestion, you almost jump out of your chair in excitement. 

“Yes please!” 

With perked ears, Remus and James smile to themselves at the sound of you and Sirius giggling down the hallway and outside to the leather-wearing tattoo artist’s motorbike. They knew you both made a ritual of going on snack runs for them and, although they appreciated the snacks, they adored your happy laughter echoing in the halls much more.

As Sirius helped gear the two of you up with a helmet for the ride, he whispered his usual promise of taking a longer route than needed to get to the store all while you spotted a group of girls eyeing him up from behind. They looked to be in high school and weren’t subtle about their puppy love for Sirius at all, ogling him with lovestruck doe eyes, whispering amongst themselves and playfully hitting each other’s shoulders over their musings. You couldn’t blame them for their admiration, simply because Sirius was very physically attractive, with his inked skin, sharp features, steel grey eyes, sultry hair, seductive smile, toned physique and nefarious leather fashion—the man embodied an elegant but evil beauty. And, when you got to know him, he became all the more attractive; he was just the perfect amount of chaos and sensual audacity to pair with the softest heart —a dream come true for girls, especially those in their high school years.

Nevertheless, their giggling and kittenish gossiping were like nails on a chalkboard to you, although, that may just be the excuse you came up with for what you were about to do next.

“Woah!” Sirius chuckles, his arms going up as you suddenly wrap your arms around his waist and hold him close, smiling smuggling into his white vest when the group of girls immediately silence their gossiping and giggling at the sight, “what’s wrong, dollface?” Sirius asks dotingly as he lifts your gaze up with a finger under your chin and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, “feeling needy are we?” you pout at his teasing, which he laughs at and finally wraps his arms around your shoulders. One hand holds the back of your head and gently presses your face further into his chest, “anything you need, dollface… anything at all, I’ve got you,” he whispers and pulls away to stare fondly into your pretty eyes. You realise that, not once has he noticed the group of high school girls behind him, in spite of all their gossip and ogling. 

“Siri-”

“Such a pretty face,” he coos, lifting a hand to tenderly cup your jaw, “pretty eyes, pretty nose, pretty lips, pretty heart, pretty everything,” just so pretty… sirius completes in his head, resisting the urge to give into his desires and take from you something he knows isn’t meant for him but desperately wishes was his…

His stare lingers on your lips long enough for you to notice but not enough for you to verbalise as the leather-clad tattooist quickly places the spare helmet over your head. 

Remus groans gratefully as he tilts his head back with closed eyes, smiling at the giggle you emit, “That’s just what I need, dove,”

The tall brunette feels your gentle lips against his forehead for a brief moment and sighs pleasantly once more, “you need to better your posture when sitting Remmy,” you softly scold, continuing to massage his tense shoulders and the back of his neck as he slowly opens his eyes to admire you.

Ignoring your reproach, Remus loses himself in the feeling of relief easing into his tense shoulders and stiff neck through your pressing fingers and palms, “heavenly…” he utters in bliss. 

“Don’t ignore me, Remus,” your tone is a little more stern but rather than make him nervous, Remus continues to smile at you. 

“I assure you…” Remus turns his head and presses a kiss against the skin of your wrist, “that I never and will never ignore you, sweetheart,” his words and the look he gives you makes a heat crawl up your neck and spread across your cheeks. 

“Then tell me you’ll aim for better posture when sitting for too long,” at your request, Remus spins in his chain and pulls you close by the hips. His head is at level with your xiphoid process as he looks up at you with a relaxed smile. 

“You have my word,” he brings your hands from his shoulders, holds them together and kisses the knuckles that touch. Almost instinctively, you move your soft hand to hold his face and smile down at him from where you stood. 

It’s a promise he keeps as you often find him squaring his shoulders and straightening his back when sitting in the office too long. It makes your heart flutter to know that he was proactive with your advice but his shoulder massages didn’t stop, which he appreciated greatly. He never said thank you but he always kissed your hands, wrists and knuckles during or after you ease some of the tension off his shoulders and neck. 

“You truly are an angel,” Remus said one day as he buries his face into your stomach, arms wrapped around your hips as you softly squeeze at his shoulders, “James was right,” he chuckles under his breath which you join him with in a brief but twinkling giggle, “are you truly not hiding a pair of wings, dove?” 

“Nope~” you chirp with another giggle as he leisurely stands, pushing his chair away with the backs of his knees. Remus keeps you close, holds you closer even, and sighs into the crown of your head. 

“Lies…” you feel his big hands move up your back slowly, pressing his fingers into your taut muscles and arched spine as if to return the favour you’ve done for his rigid shoulders. Unable to help yourself, a soft sigh escapes you and you fall further into his embrace, “that…or you’re really good at hiding your wings —i feel nothing there,” with one final knead of his strong fingertips, he winks at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, similar to the kind you often find in Sirius’s grey pools and James’s hazel jewels. Though different, they were all the same in other ways. 

“I guess you’ll never know,” was your impish reply not registering how Remus’s expression subtly softens into adoring fondness when continuing to stare down at you. 

It’s like she belongs there… Remus thinks to himself, playing with the ends of your hair while you turn your head to rest your cheek on his chest for comfort, perfectly suited to be in my arms.

“There you are!” James cheers with a laugh as you squeal in surprise. Not only did he sneak up on you but he had effortlessly lifted you into the air by your waist, a merit to his muscular physique.  

“James!” you laugh, hands on his broad shoulders as he spins you around, “Put me down!” grinning widely still, he carefully lowers you, grinning wider when your face gets closer and he can press a kiss to your cheek upon finally setting you down. 

“I have everything already, angel, ready to go?” 

“As I’ll ever be,” he links your arms together and leads the way to his and the boys' flat as you try to hold in your eagerness and nerves. 

The flat the boys share is more spacious than you expected, cleaner too, which you suspect is primarily because of Remus. You were shocked to find, however, that Sirius tended to be the clean freak out of the three. 

“I just grew up with clean habits, I guess,” Sirius quickly shrugs off your questioning eyes before ushering you into the kitchen where James was helpfully laying out all the ingredients the two of you needed in order to bake some fruit tarts together. 

“We’ll be in the living room if you need us,” Remus offers with a cordial smile. In his hand is a rather small book, though you’d guess it’s because his hands were so big that the book just looked petite. The pages appeared relatively worn, as if he had flitted through their pages multiple times already despite his pointer finger marking the page he was at being quite early on in the book. 

“With James in the kitchen you may be needing our help sooner rather than later—“ Sirius begins to chuckle but is forced out of the kitchen when James throws a rolled up kitchen towel at him. This makes you giggle as Sirius gives a shout of mock pain and makes his way into the living room with a journal full of sketches in one hand and a pen in the other.

“Right! Let’s get baking Jamie!” You chirp, missing the adoring eyes James looks onto you with, loving the nickname you call him by. Before the two of you get started, James helps tie up the back of your apron as well as your hair. Upon doing so, you do the same thing for him and he makes a show of asking you to tie up his hair for him despite its relatively short length. Even so, James got to work with a scrunchie holding up a small, short tuffet of hair —it made you giggle multiple times but James would just flutter his lashes at you comically and make you laugh even more. 

Regardless of the occasional shenanigans James pulled, the activity was very domestic and made your heart flutter in your chest, not realising that James was experiencing the same sensations ten-fold. 

Everything begins well enough with James obediently following your instructions, helpfully preparing the dough before moving onto the pastry cream. It was when you had to prepare the summer fruits while blind baking the pie crust and chilling the pastry cream that things became a little more chaotic. James had innocently offered you a slice of a strawberry and enjoyed your elated reaction so much that he started feeding you an entire array of fruits. Fearful that there won’t be anymore fruit for the tart, you begin to pull away from James’s kind offerings. 

“Come on, princess,” James pleads with you, offering up a small slice of mango, “one more, you look so cute when you chew your food,” he coos adoringly as you bring your hands up to cover your cheeks and pout at him. 

“James you better not—“ 

“You’re like a baby chipmunk!” He offers the mango once more but you quickly run away, which initiates a playful chase around the kitchen island. A mischievous look is sparked in James’s eyes as he laughs at your feeble attempt at running away from him. He plays easy with you, however; he doesn’t want the game to end too soon.

“James is at it again…” Remus chuckles and sets his book aside to sink back into the sofa, smiling at your squeals of fun from the kitchen.

“Trying to read was a lost cause, Moony,” Sirius laughs to himself, a warmth blossoming in his chest at the sound of your joyful activities. Nevertheless, he continues to sketch in his journal of potential tattoo compositions for a client, “we both knew this would happen,” 

“Which is why,” Remus stresses, “I chose a book I’ve read multiple times already,” 

Sirius looks up with a smirk, “always such a smartass,”

“You love this smartass,” Remus shoots and leans over to kiss the tattoo artist sweetly with light fingers lifting his chin up. 

“I’m not denying that…” Sirius answers with a smirk before realising that the noise had significantly died down in the kitchen. They didn’t have to wait long until it began once again, however. 

“James stop!” You squeal in delight and laugh airily. 

James swings you around and places you on the kitchen island, not too far away from where the pie crust was cooling off on a drying rack. Standing between your thighs, he holds you in an embrace and laughs into your shoulder, “I caught you, love,” 

“You have an unfair advantage,” you huff with a pout that doesn’t linger for very long when you lean back to adjust James’s glasses with a soft smile. Loving the gesture, James squeezes his arms around you and a dopey grin stretches across his face. He’s the image of bliss and summer fun. 

“Not true…deep down, it’s you who has an unfair advantage over me,” and on Sirius and Remus too James was tempted to add but neglects to when he is overcome with the urge to kiss your cheek at the sight of your loveliness, head slightly tilted, lips adorning the sweetest smile and eyes alight with boundless mirth. 

As the three admire you from their seats on the sofas, they share a similar look. All smiling with a hidden secret as their eyes twinkle with agreement. Many times they’ve discussed their relationship with you, knowing full well that they wanted the same thing and that there wasn’t a chance on earth they’d let you go without a fight. 

It’s too cruel to have met a sweetheart like you only to have you drift away so easily. You bring about a softness in them that is typically hidden away, masked by their inked skin and piercings. You are a missing piece and an essential cog in their system that they can no longer live without. 

“Tea’s ready!” you call and turn to them with a tray loaded with mugs of the steaming beverage accompanied by biscuits and cookies. Their gaze isn’t on the tea, however, it’s on you. And their eyes are flooded by a feeling that can only be love. 

A/N : i have several requests for this au but i need to do a little build up on the storyline first, hopefully my lovely requesters don't mind the wait and that this can satisfy you for now (┳Д┳)

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS SERIES

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @astonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms @susyelectra @fangirlninja67 @pagesfalling @thepunisherfrankcastle @axeofwars @imarimon @justkiyomi @in-love-with-4-marauders @chicken-taco-burrito @valencia-rou @feast0nmeee @lestat-whore @hvmxjjk @twilightlover2007 @diaryofabiwoman @woohoney @celestialfantasiess @willbedecided @lovelyygirl8 @iiirhiane-g @ghostgardn @mess-is-my-aesthetic

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Janet Jackson featuring Q-Tip and Joni Mitchell - Got 'til It's Gone 1997

"Got 'til It's Gone" is a song by American singer Janet Jackson, featuring American rapper Q-Tip and Canadian singer Joni Mitchell, from her sixth studio album, The Velvet Rope (1997). It was released as the lead single from The Velvet Rope, and Jackson opted for a less polished sound for it which resulted in an authentic blend of R&B, pop, and hip hop with traces of reggae influences. It contains a sample from Joni Mitchell's 1970 song "Big Yellow Taxi".

"Got 'til It's Gone" was met with mostly positive reviews from music critics, with most praising its fusion of Jackson's pop style with hip hop, and for its revealing theme. The song peaked at number 36 on the Hot 100 Airplay chart and reached number three on the R&B/Hip-Hop Airplay chart. Internationally, "Got 'til It's Gone" reached the top 20 in several European markets, including France, Germany, Ireland, Italy, Switzerland, and the UK.

The accompanying music video for "Got 'til It's Gone" was directed by Mark Romanek and filmed at the Hollywood Palladium in Los Angeles, and was premiered right before the 1997 MTV Video Music Awards. Jackson portrays a lounge singer in the video, which takes place during the time of apartheid in South Africa. It was called a masterpiece by critics, winning a Grammy Award for Best Short Form Music Video. It also received the most nominations at the seventh annual MVPA Awards, winning "Pop Video of the Year" and "Best Art Direction".

"Got 'til It's Gone" received a total of 55,4% yes votes.

[01zfan]

Can you do a story where the female reader is getting backshots from shotaro and his members walk in and see you naked?

rushed | o. st

idol!shotaro x fem. reader | 2.8k words

contains: sneaking around, backshots, getting caught

you rarely got to see shotaro. separate lives kept you apart more days than you would like to admit, and time always felt like it was slipping away when you were with him. 

it was also increasingly hard to get him alone, always surrounded by his bandmates. you couldn’t blame shotaro or his team, they were only doing their job most of the time. you knew it wasn’t your place to ask them to clear out their shared dorm so you could have alone time with your boyfriend. unplanned alone time became a luxury, and you two treated it as such.

it was a shame that time always felt like it was fleeting when you got shotaro alone. you two never knew when someone else would walk through the door, or when shotaro would get called to go to practice. the fleeting time made you two act like hormonal teenagers no matter where you were. time was of the essence, you two had to do whatever you couldn’t do in front of others as fast as possible. this meant dry humping on that black couch in the studio in the middle of the night, or shotaro pressing your body against the glass in the practice room early morning before everyone else arrived. making out the second you two were alone became a habit, lips instantly attaching and hands grasping at the other the second no one else was around.

there were several close calls when you guys would fool around. it didn’t help that you two would get so caught up in the moment you forgot there’s other people in the world, too. you remember pushing shotaro to the floor when someone almost caught you two making out on the in a lounge room. you were laid on your back while shotaro kissed your neck, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. shotaro was no help, he was awful at paying attention to his surroundings in these situations. shotaro’s only thoughts were filled with you, the way your skin was so soft and how he hasn’t had the chance to kiss you in so long. he thought it was criminal he didn’t get any alone time with his girlfriend, sometimes he cursed the life he chose because it kept him away from you. shotaro was taking his time when you saw the blurry figure of someone through the frosted glass of the door. before the knob was turned the same hands that were pulling shotaro closer to you pushed him backwards by the shoulders. he launched to the other side of the sofa and you grabbed your phone that was previously forgotten on the coffee table.

poor anton was subjected to seeing you two pretend like the obvious wasn’t so obvious. you looked to the anton and then followed anton’s eyes to shotaro’s mussed hair and wrinkled shirt. your boyfriend wasn’t only bad at listening for people coming, but also terrible at acting nonchalant. shotaro had a shocked expression on his face and was frozen in place on the couch. you were also frazzled, but atleast you had the sense to pretend like you were looking at your phone. anton saw right through your act though, especially because you looked just as disheveled as shotaro.

“just here for the vending machine.” anton said.

you three were forced to bask in the awkward atmosphere as anton walked to the machine. anton took his sweet time, going over the options a million times like it was his first time seeing the machine. you couldn’t see anton’s face but you’re sure he was smiling, making you two suffer through the consequences of your actions.

“you like cola right, anton?” shotaro said. 

now you were trying to hold back your laugh at shotaro ver yclearly trying to rush anton out of the room.

“i love cola.” anton said, holding back a laugh.

the soda dropping from the vending machine was the only sound in the room. anton slowly walked to the door and opened the soda, making an obnoxious sound after taking a sip. with his hand on the door, anton cast a look backwards.

“you two lovebirds have fun.” anton said giggling.

after that incident, you and shotaro became more careful. you set rules in place to avoid having to bear through another awkward moments like that one. only kissing on the lips was allowed in public places with no locks on the doors. no more grinding, no more shotaro putting a quick hand in your pants in shared spaces or you giving him hickeys in spots his shirts covered.

because of this, you two hadn’t gone beyond chaste kisses for nearly two weeks. it had gotten to the point that you thought you were going to die if you weren’t able to get him alone soon. your prayers were ironically answered when shotaro got sick. it wasn’t anything serious, something similar to a simple cold. so close to the comeback it was important for shotaro to quarantine from his group so it didn’t spread. 

you won’t believe this, but i’m all alone in the dorms right now.

you nearly fell over when you saw that text. you had never been somewhere so fast in your life, getting to the dorms in record time. shotaro did seem a little sick when he opened the door, but your need for him outweighed the risk of getting sick. 

shotaro couldn’t even close the door before your lips were on his. you had to shut the door with your foot as you continued to kiss shotaro, moving backwards towards his bedroom. you two made a mess in the space between the door and shotaro’s room. things were pushed off of the tiny table beside the couch as shotaro leaned you against it. being able to lean against the piece of furniture gave you the ability to wrap your leg around shotaro’s waist, pulling him into you.

“someone is eager.” shotaro laughed before going to kiss your neck.

he was mocking you but just as depraved. you could feel his hardening dick press against your heat. your rushed hands made quick work of your shirt. you had strategically chosen a button up so you wouldn’t have to waste time pulling a shirt over your head. 

“how long do we have?” you asked.

you contemplated letting your boyfriend fuck you then and there on that tiny table, or moving it to the couch. but if time allotted, you wanted to fuck him properly on his bed.

“an hour atleast. my medicine is across town.” shotaro said.

you push shotaro lightly by the shoulders, getting off of the table. 

“let’s go to your room then.” you say.

shotaro basically runs to his while you laughing at him. all signs of shotaro’s being sick is gone as he undresses himself at the speed of light. shotaro doesn’t even bother to take off his shirt before he pulls you to the bed with him. you both giggle as he helps you out of your clothes. he kisses the exposed body that he hasn’t gotten the chance to kiss in so long.

“look who’s the eager one now.” you laugh. 

shotaro is still giggles as he trails kisses up and down your body. you laugh when he hits a ticklish place and gasp when he bites you slightly. all the kisses are wet and melt into your skin.

“how do you want it?” shotaro asks.

he has to look up at you from your thigh, the place where he left an already forming hickey. shotaro hopes that you get the hint of him being so close to your heat that you let him eat you out. you want nothing more than that, feeling his sloppy wet kisses on your folds and his fingers on your clit. but you know that shotaro has the tendency to get carried away while tasting you, and you won’t be able to stop him once he starts. you also know that you need it rough and fast before time slips away and you don’t think you can go another day without feeling him inside of you. so you sit up on the bed as shotaro follows your every move.

“can you do it from the back?” you ask.

“of course.” shotaro says.

he leads you to your hands and knees and you sink into your arch while shotaro helps you, spreading your legs a little wider so he can slot himself between them. before you reach for his pillow shotaro stops you by placing a soft smack to your ass. he swipes his dick between your folds, collecting the slick that’s there. you let out a tiny gasp feeling him.

“i need to hear you baby.” shotaro says.

you had become so accustomed to hiding your mewls and moans into shotaro’s pillows and blankets that it had become second nature to grab a muffler for. your cries. but you were alone, so you let out a tiny whine as you could hear shotaro pumping his length. 

“that’s my girl.” shotaro said. 

his other hand goes to the small of your back, pressing down slightly. anticipation builds over your body as you wait for shotaro. just when you think he’s about to put it in he rests on his haunches. he puts two fingers inside of you and you moan and push your ass back. shotaro gives you another smack to keep you in place as he fucks you with his fingers. 

“taro.” you whine breathlessly. 

you are so desperate this alone has you on edge. shotaro places a kiss to your ass cheek and sucks on the skin. you can hear the lewd sounds of his fingers in your clit and he breaks away from your ass cheek with a lewd pop.

“gotta stretch you out. but you’re so wet it won’t be a problem right?” shotaro says. 

you can hear the smirk in his voice as he adds in a third finger. you don’t care if he’s teasing you or if he wants you to beg. you will give him whatever he wants if that means he’ll fuck you. you shake your head into the mattress and you clench around his fingers.

“shotaro please put it in.” you cry out.

shotaro withdraws his fingers and gets up from the back of his legs. he gives your ass gentle pats, watching the recoil of your ass. 

“patience baby.” shotaro says

shotaro uses the same that was inside of your to guide his dick to your entrance. he moves his hand from his dick to your ass to spread you out further. your hands grip the sheets of the bed when you can feel him prodding past your folds.

you let out a prolonged whine as shotaro slowly sinks into you. the way he has you spread makes you feel him more and guides him in deeper. you are both lost in the feeling, shotaro takes the bottom of his shirt into his mouth for a better view. he keeps you still when he sinks all the way in, loving the feeling of your squirm and clench around his length. you can’t believe how cruel the world was, keeping you from feeling this for so long. shotaro pulls out all the way before sliding back in just as slow. he takes off his shirt, his body becoming too hot feeling you clamp around him

“i missed this pussy so much.” shotaro said. 

he looks at your face, half of it pressed into the mattress. the half shotaro can see is contorted in pleasure, lips slightly open as little sounds escape you. he needs to find time in his life to fuck you slow and steady so he can kiss your eyebrow kisses as he draws sounds from you. but right now, there’s an carnal need in him to fuck you fast before something interrupts him.

“can i go fast baby?” shotaro asks sweetly. “we are running out of time.”

you free one of your fists from the sheets and reach a hand backwards for shotaro to hold. he grabs it without hesitation.

“please.” you say.

that’s all shotaro needs before he pulls out his length and thrusts it back into you. you begging lit a fire inside of him, breathed a new vigor into his hips. his skin slaps against your ass as he fucks you from the back. his hand gives you stability, to the point you start pushing your hips back to meet his.

“oh my god.” you cry into the bed. 

“i know. you feel so good.” shotaro groans. his words are accented with rough thrusts and almost drowned out by skin colliding. he adds another smack to your ass and picks up speed. “i can’t get enough.”

“don’t stop.” you say.

you clench onto his hand before moving your grip to his bicep. shotaro uses his strength to pull your upper body up from the bed, and you place a hand on the headboard to support your body. you can feel yourself getting close, sensitive from days of no contact. you curse yourself for not being able to hold on a little longer, but maybe shotaro will be a little mean and keep fucking as your orgasm takes over your body. your chest bounces from the force of the thrust and you feel shotaro’s hand that was on your ass reach underneath your extended arm to grab your breast. he kneads the supple skin in his hand. his thrusts remain consistent, fucking you in a steady but fast pace.

“can’t stop when i’m in this pussy.” shotaro says. “so tight it won’t let me go.”

everything about you is so soft. your breast is soft in shotaro’s hand, the skin of your ass that smacks against his pelvis is like a pillow, and your gummy walls bring shotaro relief from everyday life. he wishes he could tell you about all the things he loves about you, how badly he wished he had a day alone with you to make up for his absence. but he can barely form a vocal thought as you whine to him.

“i’m close.” you whimper.

“i got you.” shotaro grunts

you let go of shotaro’s bicep and he lets you go. you lower your hand from the headboard and go back to your original position. shotaro takes handfuls of your ass to spread your cheeks and lifts his leg up. this has you nearly screaming out grabbing onto anything you can find. 

shotaro is desperate, trying to get you to cum as soon as possible. his stamina always comes in handy in situations like these. he admires how your body quickly reacts to his tempo changes and how deep he goes. its like you were made for him the way you clench around him perfectly. 

between shotaro’s thrusts and you clamping around him, neither of you are paying attention to the outside world. your moans had turned into whimpers and pants, so entrancing that shotaro doesn’t hear the door open. you don’t hear sungchan asking where the hell the mess came from or footsteps coming towards shotaro’s closed door. 

what you do hear is the door open and eunseok’s loud oh my god and sohee yelling out loud. it happens too quickly, shotaro pulling out of you and grabbing the covers to hide your naked body. you quickly turn your body to face the door, seeing seunghan cover sohee’s eyes and anton’s jaw to the floor. next thing you know you’re yelling too, from the pure embarrassment of six guys walking in on you naked and exposed. 

“what are you guys doing here?” shotaro asks bewildered. 

he’s lucky his boxers were still on the bed. you don’t know when shotaro put them back on, you bring the sheets up to cover your eyes. you still continue to yell from the pure shock of the moment.

“we brought you soup and your medicine. is this why you wanted us to get it from the place across town?” sungchan asks. 

he sounds as bewildered as shotaro, not believing the sight in front of him. you slowly bring the sheets down from your eyes to see the six men still frozen in the doorway. even shotaro is still on the bed, trying to process everything

“please get out.” you screech. 

this pulls everyone out of their trance, suddenly aware of you being completely naked underneath the sheets. they bump into eachother trying to back out of the room, someone at one point even falling down. they apologize profusely to you, saying they didn’t know. 

even when shotaro’s door closes you dont emerge from underneath the covers. you stay there mumbling over and over again how traumatized you are. shotaro finds a little bit of humor in the situation cooing at you while he hugs you over the blanket.

“did you cum?” shotaro asks sarcastically.

you emerge from the sheets for only a second to hit him with a pillow before going back under. 

[goddessofvalyria]

SUPERMODEL | Modern!Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: Aemond Targaryen is a famous supermodel. However, he treats his assistant so badly that they reach a breaking point. She leaves him and he, for the first time realize how much he needs her. Not only in works but in his life too.

TW: 18+, MINORS DNI, She/Her pronouns, kissing, sexual themes, oral (f receiving), fingering, SMUT, sex, squirting, age gap (Aemond is in his early 30s and she is in her early 20s). This is a modern Aemond in modern AU, he doesn’t have his disability (his eye).

English is not my first language, be kind and enjoy the fic <3

This is my Masterlist

Words: 5800

Aemond Targaryen strides through the glass doors of the high-rise studio, exuding confidence. His tall frame is perfectly complemented by the tailored designer suit hugging his form, his silver-blonde hair slicked back impeccably. His assistant, a young woman trails behind him, her eyes downcast and her steps hurried to keep up. She clutches a clipboard close to her chest, filled with Aemond's schedule for the day.

"Assistant!" Aemond barks, not bothering to look back at her. "Have you confirmed the Vogue shoot for next Tuesday?"

"Yes, Mr.Targaryen" she replies quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"And what about the interview with Vanity Fair?" he demands, his tone sharp and impatient.

"It's been moved to Thursday afternoon, as per your request" she answers, her gaze fixed on the ground.

Aemond clicks his tongue in annoyance. "I hate Thursdays" he mutters, more to himself than to her. He finally glances back at her, his expression one of disdain. "Why do you always sound so meek? Speak up! Or do you think my time isn’t valuable enough for you to bother?"

Her assistant swallows hard but doesn't respond to the insult. She knows better than to defend herself. Her job is to keep his life running smoothly, not to make waves. She simply nods, making a note on her clipboard.

They arrive at the studio, and the room buzzes with activity. Photographers, makeup artists, and stylists swarm around, all eager to cater to Aemond's whims. He thrives in this environment, basking in the attention, his arrogance palpable.

"Do they have my preferred brand of water here?" Aemond asks loudly, looking around with an air of superiority.

She nods quickly. "Yes, I made sure to have it stocked" she replies, already anticipating his needs.

Aemond scoffs. "You better. Last time, I had to suffer with that cheap swill they dared to offer me." He rolls his eyes dramatically before striding over to the makeup chair.

She moves to stand in the corner, her presence almost ghostly. She knows her place—always in the background, always silent. The makeup artist begins to work on Aemond, who lounges back, closing his eyes.

"You know, assistant" Aemond says suddenly, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "You could learn a thing or two from these people. They know how to do their jobs properly. Maybe then, you wouldn’t be such a disappointment."

Her cheeks burn with humiliation, but she nods again, keeping her expression neutral. She can’t afford to lose this job, not now, not ever. She watches as Aemond is transformed, his features highlighted and contoured to perfection, ready for the camera. The photographer signals that they're ready, and Aemond stands, adjusting his suit jacket.

"Stay out of the way" he hisses to her as he walks past, not even sparing her a glance.

She steps back, blending into the shadows, her eyes following his every move. She can see the allure he has, the way he commands the room, but she also sees the cruelty that lurks just beneath the surface.

The photoshoot begins, and Aemond is in his element. He poses effortlessly, each click of the camera capturing his sharp features and confident stance. The photographer shouts directions, and Aemond complies with a fluid grace, his every movement calculated and precise.

During a brief break, Aemond saunters over to her assistant, a smug smile playing on his lips. "I hope you're taking notes" he says mockingly. "This is how a real professional operates. Not that you'd know anything about that."

Her fingers tighten around the clipboard, but she nods once more. "Of course, Mr.Targaryen" she replies softly.

The day drags on with more of the same—Aemond’s arrogance, his cutting remarks, his constant demands. She endures it all in silence, her face a mask of calm. She organizes his meals, prepared by his personal chef, making sure they’re exactly to his liking. She liaises with journalists, manages his social media, arranges his travel—all while bearing the brunt of his contempt.

Finally, the photoshoot wraps up, and Aemond is ushered to a private room for an exclusive interview. She follows closely behind, ensuring everything is in order. As they enter the room, Aemond turns to her, his expression icy.

"Make sure you don’t embarrass me during this interview" he snaps. "I don’t need you messing things up like you always do."

She nods, standing just outside the frame of the camera, ready to jump in should anything be needed. She watches as Aemond slips effortlessly into his charming persona for the interviewer, his smile charismatic and his voice smooth.

The next day she stands outside Aemond Targaryen's lavish penthouse, the morning sun barely peeking over the horizon. She checks her phone, her breath visible in the cool air. He should have been up an hour ago. She takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell, waiting for a response. Silence. She presses it again, more insistently this time. Finally, she hears the faint sound of footsteps approaching.

The door swings open to reveal Aemond, shirtless, his hair disheveled and eyes heavy with sleep. He looks at her with an annoyed expression, clearly displeased to see her so early. "What the hell are you doing here so early?" he grumbles.

"You're late" she says firmly, not backing down from his glare. "You were supposed to be at the Versace photoshoot an hour ago." She pushes past him, entering the penthouse. The place is a mess, bottles from last night’s party littering the floor.

Aemond runs a hand through his hair, looking irritated. "I wasn’t aware you became my alarm clock" he snaps, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

She ignores the remark and heads straight to his bedroom. As she pushes open the door, she spots a young woman in his bed, her red hair sprawled across the pillow. Her full lips press into a thin line. Another one of his conquests, no doubt. Probably someone he met at that Vogue party last night.

"Get up!" she says sharply, her patience wearing thin. "You’re late, and I’m not covering for you again. If you don’t move, someone else will take your place." Her voice is louder now, more insistent.

Aemond smirks, clearly amused by her boldness. "Relax. I’m Aemond Targaryen. No one is taking my place," he replies arrogantly, but he gets out of bed anyway, stretching as he does.

"Where’s the chef?" he asks, referring to his private chef, as he pulls on a pair of pants. She sighs, already anticipating his reaction. "Andre has the day off" she replies. "I’ll make you breakfast."

Aemond rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue, too tired to put up much of a fight. "Fine. Just hurry up," he mutters.

She heads to the kitchen, quickly whipping up a simple breakfast— toasted bread with Nutella and coffee. She works with practiced efficiency, her movements quick and precise. As she cooks, the girl in his bed stirs awake, realizing where she is. The young woman gets dressed quietly and slips out of the bedroom, clearly embarrassed. She avoids Elara’s gaze as she leaves the apartment.

Aemond strolls into the kitchen, yawning. "Again?" he complains, though he sits down at the counter and starts eating. "Couldn’t you have managed something more… sophisticated?"

She clenches her jaw but doesn’t respond to the jab. She’s used to his criticism by now. "You need to eat fast and I'm not your chef" she says instead, her tone neutral. "You’re already running late."

He finishes his breakfast leisurely, seeming to take pleasure in making her wait. Finally, he grabs his jacket, and they head out. By the time they arrive at the studio, Aemond is over an hour late. The crew is waiting, the tension palpable. The Versace representative looks irritated but relieved when he finally arrives.

Despite being late, Aemond still manages to charm his way through the photoshoot. His arrogance seems to evaporate in front of the camera, replaced by that effortless confidence that has made him a star. The photographers and stylists gush over him, forgiving his tardiness in exchange for his flawless performance.

As the shoot wraps up, she stands off to the side, making notes for the next appointment. She glances up and notices a young man, tall with curly black hair and green eyes standing near her, looking nervous. He introduces himself, and her face lights up. She laughs, a rare, genuine sound, and nods as he talks. It's clear they’re making plans—he’s asking her on a date, and for the first time in a long time, she looks truly happy.

Aemond catches sight of the exchange, his expression darkening. As they leave the studio, he confronts her in the car. "What the hell was that?" he demands, his tone harsh.

She blinks, taken aback. "What do you mean, Mr.Targaryen?"

"That pathetic guy" Aemond snaps. "You were all smiles and giggles. You do realize you're supposed to be working, not flirting with some random kid."

Her face hardens. "His name is Kai."

Aemond scoffs. "Don’t make me laugh. You don’t have friends. You have a job. My job."

They arrive back at his apartment, and Aemond storms inside, clearly in a foul mood. She follows, her patience finally wearing thin. "You know" she says, her voice trembling with anger. "Just because you have everything handed to you doesn’t mean you can treat everyone around you like garbage."

Aemond turns on her, his face twisted with rage. "You’re just a fucking virgin, unsatisfied with your fucking life!" he yells, his words cutting deep.

She flinches as if slapped. Her eyes flash with hurt and anger. "At least I have a life, Aemond. All you have is this—your fame, your arrogance. But none of it makes you happy, does it?"

Aemond’s face contorts with fury, and in a blind moment of rage, he raises his hand and slaps her hard across the face. The sound echoes through the apartment, and his hand flies to her cheek, her eyes wide with shock.

Silence hangs heavy in the air. Aemond’s chest heaves, his breath ragged, as if realizing what he’s done. She, however, doesn't wait for an apology. She takes a deep breath, her decision clear in her mind. She walks over to her bag, pulls out a folder, and slams it down on the kitchen island.

"What’s this?" Aemond asks, his voice uncertain now.

"My resignation" she says quietly, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes. "I’m done, Aemond. I’m fucking done with you."

She turns on her heel and walks out of the apartment, leaving Aemond standing there, stunned and alone. The door slams shut behind her, the finality of the sound echoing in the empty room. For the first time, Aemond is left alone with the weight of his actions, the silence of the apartment deafening in her absence.

Aemond Targaryen has had a miserable week without her. His new assistant, a well-meaning but utterly incompetent woman named Lisa, tries her best, but she’s no her. She fumbles over simple tasks, double-books his appointments, and worst of all, she can't anticipate his needs like her always did. Aemond finds himself snapping at her constantly, frustration boiling over.

“Lisa, for the last time” he growls on the fourth day, “I said black coffee with no sugar, not some fancy vanilla latte nonsense. Can’t you get anything right?”

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Targaryen” Lisa stammers, her face flushed with embarrassment. “I’ll get it fixed right away.”

Aemond waves her off, already regretting his outburst. But the truth is, he's angry because he misses jer. He misses how she could keep everything in order, how she never made mistakes, how she seemed to know what he needed before he even did. He hates to admit it, but he misses her presence—the silent, steady strength she always carried.

By the end of the week, his patience is worn thin. Exhausted and frustrated, he decides to drown his stress in a drink. He heads to a dimly lit bar, tucked away in one of the city’s quieter neighborhoods. As he steps inside, the familiar hum of low conversation and clinking glasses greets him. He heads to the bar and orders a whiskey, neat.

As he sips his drink, he spots a familiar face across the room. His breath catches in his throat when he sees her, sitting at a small table with that boy named Kai. The sight of her laughing, her face lit up in a way he rarely saw when she was with him, sends a surge of jealousy through his veins. Kai leans in closer, saying something that makes her laugh again, her hand brushing against his. Aemond’s grip tightens around his glass. She is wearing a silver slip dress, loose hair and seems to be... happy.

Without thinking, he gets up and makes his way over to their table. She looks up, her smile fading the moment she sees him. “Aemond” she says, her tone flat. “What are you doing here?”

“Just out for a drink,” Aemond replies smoothly, his eyes flicking to Kai. “Didn’t expect to see you here, though.”

Kai shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Uh, maybe I should—”

“No” she interrupts, her gaze never leaving Aemond. “You don’t have to leave, Kai.”

But Kai is already standing, sensing the tension in the air. “It’s fine” he says awkwardly. “I’ll call you later.” He shoots Aemond a wary glance before quickly leaving the bar.

She watches him go, her face hardening as she turns back to Aemond. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she demands, her voice low but seething with anger. “You can’t stand to see me happy, can you?”

Aemond smirks, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I was just saying hello” he says innocently. “No need to get so worked up.”

She stands abruptly, grabbing her coat. “I’m leaving” she snaps. “And for the last time, I’m not working for you anymore. Find someone else to boss around.”

Aemond follows her out of the bar, his expression darkening. “Wait!” he calls after her. “You still need to pick up your last paycheck.”

“Make me a wire transfer” she retorts over her shoulder, not bothering to stop. “I don’t want to see you again.”

But Aemond isn’t willing to let her go just yet. He watches her storm off down the street, her pace quick and determined. He knows she lives somewhere near the Flea Bottom district, a rougher part of town on the outskirts. Without thinking, he jumps into his car and starts following her, keeping a careful distance as she navigates through the winding, narrow streets.

She finally reaches her building, a run-down apartment complex with flickering lights and peeling paint. Aemond pulls up and gets out of the car, his heart pounding. He watches her disappear inside, and for a moment, he considers leaving. But something pushes him forward, an inexplicable need to see her, to talk to her.

He takes a deep breath and presses the buzzer for her apartment. It takes a few moments, but eventually, the door buzzes open. He heads up the creaky stairs to her floor, where she’s waiting, her arms crossed and her expression furious.

“What do you want, Aemond?” she snaps. “Say whatever you need to say and then get the hell out. I have work tomorrow.”

He steps inside, the space small and cluttered but cozy, filled with personal touches—a stark contrast to his own sterile, minimalist apartment. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, his eyes searching hers. “I—” he starts, but the words catch in his throat. He doesn’t know what he wants to say.

“You’ve said enough already” she cuts him off. “You’ve insulted me, belittled me, hit me—what more could you possibly have to say?”

“I’m sorry” he blurts out, the words surprising even himself. “I’m sorry for everything.”

She narrows her eyes, crossing her arms tighter. “Is that it? You think an apology makes up for how you’ve treated me?”

Aemond takes a step closer, his voice softening. “I miss you. I miss the way you always managed everything, the way you put work before anything else—before your own life. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I can’t stand seeing you with… with someone else.”

She laughs bitterly. “Of course, it’s about you, isn’t it? You don’t care about me—you just don’t want anyone else to have me. You’re jealous, Aemond. That’s all this is.”

“Maybe I am” he admits, his eyes intense. “Maybe I can’t stand the thought of you with him because I—”

“Because what?” she challenges, her voice rising. “Because you think you own me? You don’t, Aemond. I’m not your possession.”

“Because I care about you!” he shouts, his frustration boiling over. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you, even when you’re not around. Because I—”

Before he can finish, he closes the distance between them, his hands gripping her arms. He kisses her roughly, desperately, his lips crashing against hers with a force that steals her breath away. For a moment, she resists, her hands pushing against his chest, but then something breaks inside her, and she gives in.

The kiss is fiery, filled with all the pent-up emotions between them—anger, frustration, longing. Aemond pulls her closer, his hands moving to her back, and her fingers curl into his hair, pulling him even deeper into the kiss.

When they finally break apart, both of them are breathing heavily, their foreheads pressed together. Her eyes are filled with confusion and anger, but also something else—a flicker of desire, of something she’s been trying to deny for too long.

“Get out” she whispers, her voice trembling.

Aemond’s grip on her tightens. “No, I—”

“Get out!” she yells, pushing him away. “I don’t want you here. I don’t want this… I don’t want you.”

Aemond takes a step back, his heart pounding in his chest. He knows she doesn’t mean it—at least, he hopes she doesn’t. But he can see the determination in her eyes, the resolve. He nods slowly, backing away towards the door.

“I’ll leave” he says quietly. “But this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

She doesn’t respond, just stands there, her arms wrapped around herself, her gaze distant. Aemond turns and leaves, the door closing behind him with a soft click. He stands outside for a moment, his heart racing, trying to process what just happened.

Inside, she sinks to the floor, her head in her hands. She’s exhausted—physically, emotionally. She doesn’t know what to do, what to think. But one thing is clear: nothing will ever be the same between them again.

Another week passes, and Aemond is nearing his breaking point. He’s more irritable than ever, snapping at everyone around him. His new assistant, Lisa, has quit after a particularly harsh comment about her incompetence, and he’s cycled through two more assistants since. No one can seem to fill the void she left behind. The thought of her is always at the edge of his mind, a constant, nagging presence.

Everywhere he looks, he’s reminded of her. The perfect organization of his closet, her sharp but efficient handwriting on his schedule, the way she always knew how to calm him down when he was in one of his moods. He’s tried to forget, tried to move on, but nothing works. He’s come to a stark realization: he doesn’t just miss her work ethic or her efficiency. He misses her. He needs her.

She, meanwhile, is struggling in her new job. She’s started working at a small startup as an assistant, but the pay is a fraction of what she earned with Aemond. Her first paycheck is a harsh reality check—only $400 for month. It doesn't covers her groceries, let alone rent or bills. She’s been wearing layers to bed to keep warm, unable to afford proper heating. She misses the stability, the security of her old job ($4000 for month)—even if it came with Aemond’s impossible attitude.

Despite everything, she can’t help but think about him too. She remembers their last encounter, the way he’d looked at her, the desperation in his eyes. And that kiss. She’d tried to forget the way his lips had felt on hers, tried to convince herself it meant nothing. But she can’t. The memory lingers, making her restless.

One evening, as she’s sitting at her small, wobbly kitchen table, trying to figure out how to stretch her last few dollars, there’s a knock at her door. She freezes, heart pounding. No one ever visits her here.

She opens the door to find Aemond standing there, looking worn and tired. For a moment, they just stare at each other, the silence heavy between them. He says her name, his voice rough. “Can I come in?”

She steps aside, letting him enter. He’s holding a folder, and she knows immediately what it is—a contract. “What do you want, Aemond?” she asks, her voice guarded.

“I want you to come back” he says simply, handing her the folder. “I’ve drawn up a new contract. Better pay, more benefits. And I promise, I swear, I’ll treat you better. No more… no more of what happened before.”

She hesitates, her fingers brushing the edge of the folder. “Why now?” she asks quietly. “Why come back now, after everything?”

Aemond sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Because I can’t do this without you,” he admits. “Because I’ve realized that I… I care about you. More than I should, maybe. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

Her heart skips a beat at his confession. She looks down at the contract, flipping through the pages. The terms are better than before—much better. But it’s not just about the money. It’s the way he’s looking at her, with a vulnerability she’s never seen before.

“I don’t know” she says softly. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“Please” he says, his voice almost breaking. “Just give me one more chance. I promise I’ll make it right.”

She studies his face, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all she sees is a man who looks lost without her. Against her better judgment, she finds herself nodding. “Okay” she whispers. “I’ll come back but only because my payment is good.”

Aemond lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relief flooding his features. “Thank you” he breathes. “Thank you”

The next evening, Aemond invites her to his apartment for dinner. He insists it’s to make peace, to start fresh. She’s hesitant at first, unsure if she should put herself in that position again, but eventually, she agrees. Part of her misses him too, misses the life she had working for him, even with all its complications.

When she arrives, the apartment is dimly lit, a soft, warm glow emanating from the candles placed around the room. It’s surprisingly intimate, and she feels a flutter of nerves in her stomach. Aemond greets her with a tentative smile, gesturing for her to sit at the elegantly set dining table.

Dinner is a quiet affair, the tension between them palpable. Aemond is uncharacteristically quiet, his usual bravado subdued. He serves a simple meal, one he’s prepared himself, and she’s surprised at the effort he’s gone to. As they eat, they talk—cautiously at first, then more freely, memories and old jokes breaking through the awkwardness.

“I’m sorry” Aemond says suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. “For everything. For how I treated you. I was… I was a complete asshole.”

Elara looks up, meeting his gaze. “Yes, you were” she agrees, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. “But I’m not exactly innocent either. I should have said something sooner, stood up for myself.”

Aemond nods, reaching across the table to take her hand. “You’re right. But I’m glad you’re here now.”

There’s a moment of silence, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Then, Aemond stands, moving around the table to kneel beside her chair. He takes her face in his hands, his touch gentle but firm take off her glasses with thin montature. "I cant'.... I can't see" she whispers, but Aemond doesn't care.

“I’ve missed you” he murmurs, his breath warm against her lips. “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

Before she can respond, he leans in and kisses her. It’s softer than their last kiss, but just as intense, filled with a longing that’s been building for weeks. She melts into him, her hands sliding up his chest, pulling him closer. He deepens the kiss, his fingers tangling in her hair, and she gasps against his mouth.

He pulls her up from the chair, guiding her backward until they’re against the wall. “I want you” he breathes, his lips moving to her neck, kissing a trail down to her collarbone. “I want you so fucking much.”

She moans softly, her fingers curling into his shirt. “Aemond…”

He cuts her off with another kiss, his hands moving to the hem of her dress, lifting it slowly. She can feel the heat radiating off his body, his touch sending shivers down her spine. He breaks the kiss just long enough to whisper, “Tell me you want this too.”

“I—” She hesitates for a moment, her mind racing, but then she looks into his eyes and sees the raw, desperate need there. “Yes” she breathes. “I want this. I want you.”

That’s all the encouragement he needs. He lifts her into his arms, carrying her to the bedroom. The room is dark, the only light coming from the city outside. He lays her down on the bed, his lips never leaving hers, his hands roaming over her body, exploring, claiming.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmurs against her skin, his voice rough with desire. “I’ve tried to deny it, but I can’t anymore.”

He begins to undress her slowly, reverently, as if she’s something precious, something he’s afraid to break. His hands are gentle but firm, his touch electrifying. She arches into him, her body responding to his every movement.

As he presses her into the mattress, his body warm and solid against hers, she realizes that maybe—just maybe—this is where she’s meant to be. Here, with him, despite everything that’s happened. And as their bodies come together, the last of her reservations melt away, replaced by a deep, all-consuming need for the man holding her so tightly.

Aemond’s hands move over her body with a newfound tenderness, as if he’s discovering her for the first time. He slowly undresses her, his fingers deftly unzipping her dress, until it falls open. He slides the fabric down her shoulders, his lips following the path of his hands, kissing the exposed skin. She shivers under his touch, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

“God, you’re so beautiful” he murmurs against her neck, his breath hot on her skin. His hands move to her back, expertly unclasping her bra and tossing it aside. He takes a moment to look at her, his eyes dark with desire, before leaning in to capture her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue brushes against hers, and she responds eagerly, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

He pulls back slightly, his lips hovering just above hers. “You're so pretty” he whispers, his voice rough with need. He lowers his head, trailing kisses down her neck, to her collarbone, and then lower still. His lips find her breasts, his mouth hot against her skin as he takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. She moans, her back arching off the bed, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

Aemond moves lower, kissing a path down her stomach, his hands sliding on her tights. He pulls her lace panties down in one swift motion, leaving her completely exposed. He takes a moment to admire her, his eyes drinking her in. Then, without warning, he lowers his head between her thighs, his tongue flicking out to taste her.

She cries out, her hands flying to his hair, her fingers twisting in the silvery strands. His tongue moves skillfully, licking and teasing her clit, his fingers pressing into her thighs to keep her still. She feels a wave of pleasure building, her body tensing with anticipation. Aemond groans against her, the vibrations sending shockwaves through her.

He flicks his tongue faster, his fingers joining in, sliding inside her with a slow, deliberate rhythm. She’s close, so close. He seems to sense it, increasing his pace, his tongue moving in circles, his fingers curling inside her, hitting just the right spot.

“Oh, God, Aemond—” she gasps, her voice breaking. Her hips buck against his face, her body trembling. He doesn’t let up, driving her higher, pushing her closer to the edge. She feels the tension coil tighter, tighter, until she cries out, her body spasming as she squirts, the intense pleasure ripping through her. Aemond doesn’t stop, his tongue and fingers continuing their relentless assault, milking every last drop of pleasure from her. She’s panting, her body slick with sweat, her mind hazy with bliss.

"I—I'm sorry" she whispers, trembling. "It—it was the first time... I don't know..."

Aemond finally pulls back, his face glistening, a satisfied grin on his lips. He crawls back up her body, kissing her deeply, letting her taste herself on his lips. “You’re incredible, fuck” he murmurs against her mouth. “You don't have to apologize”

Without breaking the kiss, he positions himself above her, his hard length pressing against her slick entrance. "Aemond" she stops him.

"You were right, I'm a fucking virgin"

He holds her gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and something deeper, something almost tender. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice a low, gravelly whisper.

She nods, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. “Yes” she breathes. “I’m sure but... I...don't know, I'm not your type... I—” she is worried and Aemond notice that.

"I'll be gentle, now kiss me"

With a slow, deliberate motion, he pushes into her, filling her wet pussy completely. She moans, her head falling back, her eyes closing as he stretches her, filling her in a way that feels both new and familiar. He sets a slow, steady rhythm, his hips rolling against hers, his movements deep and controlled.

He leans down, capturing her lips in another kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth as he thrusts into her. She wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, her body moving in perfect sync with his. Every thrust, every movement, is a delicious friction that sends waves of pleasure coursing through her.

Aemond increases his pace, his breath ragged against her ear, his hands gripping her hips tightly. “You feel so fucking good,” he groans, his voice strained with effort. “I can’t get enough of you.”

She moans in response, her fingers digging into his back, her body arching up to meet his every thrust. She’s close again, the pleasure building once more, and she can tell he is too, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate.

“Come for me” he whispers, his lips brushing against her ear. “I want to feel you come around me”

His words send her over the edge. She cries out his name as she comes, her body tightening around him, pulling him deeper. Aemond follows moments later, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he spills into her, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

“Don't worry” she whispers. “I'm on the pill”

They collapse together, a tangle of limbs and heavy breaths, their bodies slick with sweat. Aemond holds her close, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his face buried in her neck. For a moment, they just lie there, catching their breath, their bodies still trembling from the intensity of their lovemaking.

She feels a strange sense of calm wash over her, a feeling of contentment she hasn’t felt in a long time. She turns her head, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “What now?” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Aemond lifts his head, his eyes meeting hers. There’s a softness there, a vulnerability she’s never seen before. “Now...” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You're mine....and....”

Fuck, he is hard agin.

Before she can catch her breath, Aemond lifts her effortlessly, pulling her onto his lap. He positions her over him, his hard length pressing against her slick entrance. She wraps her arms around his neck, her body still buzzing from her orgasm, her mind hazy with desire.

“Ride me” he growls, his hands gripping her hips, guiding her down onto him. She gasps as he fills her, stretching her, the sensation sending a new wave of pleasure coursing through her. She moves slowly at first, her hips rolling against his, finding a rhythm that makes them both moan.

Aemond’s hands roam over her body, gripping her hips, her ass, guiding her movements as she rides him. He leans in, capturing her lips in a rough, hungry kiss, his tongue plunging into her mouth, matching the rhythm of their bodies. She moans into his mouth, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groans against her lips, his hands tightening on her hips. “You feel so fucking good.”

She moves faster, her hips grinding against his, her body moving in perfect sync with his. “I...I feel... everything.” The pleasure builds again, the tension coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust, every roll of her hips. Aemond’s head falls back, his eyes closing, a deep, guttural moan escaping his lips.

She feels the edge approaching again, her body straining, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She rides him harder, faster, her body desperate for release, her mind lost in the pleasure. Aemond’s grip on her tightens, his hips thrusting up to meet hers, driving deeper, harder.

“Yes, just like that" he groans, his voice strained with pleasure. “Come for me again.”

His words send her over the edge. She cries out, her body tightening around him, her orgasm crashing over her, a wave of pure, unadulterated bliss. Aemond follows her over the edge moments later, his body shuddering as he comes deep inside her, his release hot and intense.

They collapse agin together, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. Aemond holds her close, his arms wrapped around her. For a moment, they just lie there, their bodies still trembling from the intensity of their lovemaking.

Elara’s heart pounds in her chest, her mind spinning, her body spent but satisfied. She turns her head, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

Aemond lifts his head, his eyes meeting hers. There’s a softness there, a vulnerability she’s never seen before. “Now” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Together.”

She nods, a small smile playing on her lips. Despite everything, she feels a flicker of hope. Maybe this is the start of something new, something real. And as they lie there, tangled together, she lets herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they can make it work.

[lovebugism]

stevie smut based on those boat photos is not a want, but a need

18+

Steve’s initial glimmers gold on your sun-kissed skin — a swirled S in the middle of a dainty chain. 

Despite its simple statement, you know it must’ve cost him a fortune. That’s not to say he even noticed the small dent it made in his bank account, of course. You know he bought it for you without thinking twice. But to you, still a broke college student at heart, the tiny thing feels so much heavier.

Imposter syndrome creeps up your spine like the cold hand of a ghost. 

Just yesterday, you were studying for finals, and now you’re on a yacht off the coast of Venice. Six months ago, you were living in a slum of a studio apartment on a top ramen only diet. Now you’re in Italy, with real gold around your neck, on a boat that wasn’t yours, drinking wine you didn’t pay for.

You know it’s all because of Steve just as much as you know he’s doing this for you because he loves you. You just can’t believe that it’s happening to you. 

What did you do to deserve any of this? To deserve Steve? What could you possibly give him in return to show how grateful you are for all of it? What do you give him that he can’t already buy?

“What are you thinking about, hm?” the boy himself questions as he appears in front of the leather couch you’re lounging on. He holds two glasses in his hands, one full of whiskey and the other white wine. He hands the latter off to you. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hum innocently in return. Your sundress falls to your lap when your knees bend to invite him next to you. His arm curls around your legs to pull them back over his khaki-clad lap when he sits down. His hand rests on your bare thigh.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he argues, squeezing softly at the plush skin — not enough to hurt you, but enough to make you giggle into your wine. “You’re doing the thinking face.”

“I am not doing the thinking face.”

“You so are,” he counters with a gentle grin and sparkling eyes. You didn’t think unbelievably wealthy guys could be as cute as he was. “What is it? Are you hungry?”

You shake your head against the pillow. “No. I’m good.”

“Do you feel okay? Are you seasick?” 

His tone is soft with concern. He’s already got himself all worried. 

Steve’s hand leaves your thigh to push his sunglasses to the top of his head, forcing his honey locks back in the process. A few ornery strands still hang over his forehead. His chocolate eyes, deeper than a thousand oceans, melt with concern. “Do you need me to call another boat? Should we go back to the hotel—”

Your giggling puts an end to his panicked rambling. He squints while you hide your smile with your wine glass. “What?” he lilts with a smile, still halfway worried that you’re coming down with sunstroke.

“Nothing,” you hum when the laughing fit ebbs like a low tide. You tilt your head to your shoulder and smile. “I just love you.”

You swear you see him sigh in relief.

“Oh, you’re just lovesick, huh? That it?” 

The way he coos at you — sounding almost degrading even though you know he’s only joking — makes your thighs squeeze shut. His warm fingers are caught between them.

“Very,” you nod like you’re proud to be. Because you are. 

You’re lucky to love a guy like Steve. Even luckier that he loves you back. 

Wind whips through the collar of his white button-up as he props his elbow on the back of the couch, facing you more. The top of his shirt is unclasped to reveal the cinnamon scruff on his chest that he also sports on his unshaven jaw. 

He’s too hot to smile so sweetly down at you.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, obviously insincere as he scrunches his nose. “Think I might’ve given you the lovebug…”

You shrug. “’S okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… As long as you stay sick with it forever.”

Steve’s sculpted features melt as he gazes down at you. He goes kind like he’s about to tell you how stupid you are for even thinking he could be anything other than crazy for you. 

Despite the strange angle, he begins to lean toward you, sitting his whiskey down on the glass table in the process. “Oh, honey, I’m gonna be sick over you for the rest of my life.”

“Ew,” you giggle at his wording, reaching for his stubbly cheek anyway. You scoot slightly over to accommodate his body.

Your mouth puckers for an innocent kiss that he’s more than happy to give you — one, two, then three of them, to be exact. The fourth one is far too languid to be called a peck, too wet and too full of tongue. 

You sigh against him at the tenderness of it, like a first love or a last one.

Steve’s hand is still pressed between your warm thighs, still trapped between them lest he think about moving it. His other bends at the elbow to prop himself up. It’s not like he’s going anywhere anyway, not from where he’s squished between your body and the back of the couch — with your legs thrown over him and your free hand clutching his face to yours. The other is wrapped around his neck and still holding your wine.

You lick sinfully into his mouth, like a kitten to milk, just before you part from him.

“Wanna buy you a necklace, too,” you tell him, breathless and quiet and seemingly out of the blue.

A crooked smile quirks on the right side of his rosy mouth. He knows you can’t afford it. The thought is cute, anyway. “Yeah?”

You nod, bottom lip caught between your teeth as your hand curls around the base of his neck. You can feel the thrumming of his pulse against your thumb. 

“Wanna put my initial here,” you confess lowly, glassy eyes never leaving his honeyed ones. “Want everyone to know you’re mine, too.”

“Too?” he echoes with a smile, too full of love to be smug. His hand twists between your thighs and moves like syrup beneath your dress. He cups your bikini-clad cunt and grins. “‘Cause you’re mine, huh? Is that it?”

You nod. 

A moan leaves in a fragile sigh from your parted lips when his finger sneaks beneath the fabric. He rubs you, up and down one time, just to feel how wet you are and to smile when he finds you’re soaking. 

“Always been,” you tell him through bated breaths.

“Always been.” He repeats it like a vow. When he leans down again, you think he’s going to kiss you. You’re heartbroken when his lips meet your warmed cheek. 

You taste like lotion and sunshine, like new adventures and nostalgia. 

“Let’s get you to a bed, yeah? So you can show me who I belong to.”

He says it like a courtesy, like he’s giving you an ounce of the power he normally keeps for himself. But you know your place. You know he’ll ruin you soon enough. You’ll forget your own name before you can make him repeat it for you. 

You love it.

Steve rises off you and extends a hand to help you up, too. You trail happily behind him, knowing where he’s leading you — what he’s leading you to.

Your glasses sit abandoned beside one another, going warm beneath an orange sun.

—————

“God, honey. Fuck,” Steve swears. 

His grunts mix with the sinful slapping of your thighs against his lap. His happy trail and trimmed bush are soaked with the slick you drip for him. He squeezes the plush of your hips to help guide you up and down over his cock. 

“Takin’ my dick like a fuckin’ champ, baby. Like you were made for it, huh?”

You nod, slacked mouth and panting. Little whimpers spill from your swollen lips every time you move down over him, every time he hits the spongy spot deep within you that only he could ever reach. It feels like so many little strikes of purple lightning — too much to bear, but still not enough.

His golden initial sways above your breasts as your tits bounce in front of his face. He desperately wants a taste of you, to take your stiff nipple into his mouth, but he doesn’t want to take his eyes off you. 

“You’re so pretty, honey, you know that?” he babbles, heavy eyes flitting back up to your fucked-out face. It’s hard to talk with your snug cunt squeezing him somehow tighter. His words spill through gritted teeth. “Pussy’s pretty, too. And so— fuck— so good for me. Shit, honey… ‘M gonna come if you keep riding me like this…”

You moan in a delicate cry at his admission. Pride swells in your chest to know you’re making your boy feel as good as you do.

One hand clutches the pillow beside his head while the other takes purchase on his neck, the place you’ve got a newfound adoration for. You don’t choke him, though. You’re too gentle for all that. But not so gentle that you don’t know how to kiss him breathless. 

Your mouth engulfs his own, swallowing him whole and making him forget whose air he’s breathing.

His hands trail from your hips to your ass. He grips the fattiest part with wide, warm palms and spreads them apart. He imagines how his cock must look sinking into you, shining with your honey and his pearly pre-come. He imagines your fluttering cunt swiping against his heavy balls.

You hear him spank you before you feel it.

The smack comes just before the high heat that blooms across your right asscheek. “Steve,” you moan, unabashedly needy for him as ride him harder than you had been just before. The way he hit you felt like encouragement, rough but still tender.

The bed begins to rock beneath you like the yacht your man has put you on and the bright blue sea that carries the two of you.

Your wet cunt sucks his cock inside of you, taking him deeper and deeper even though the feeling of him so far within you borders on painful. Desperate and whining for him, you keep taking him like you were made to do it. 

Because you were. 

“Yeah, keep bouncing, honey. Doing so good for me,” he manages a fucked-out smile when low squelches start to fill the lavish studio. “Pussy’s perfect baby— god, fuck.” 

He cuts himself off with a groan when you tighten around him, tossing his head back on the fluffy pillow that you grip for dear life. 

“No pussy’s ever been this good for me, you know that? Always so good… How am I— shit— How am I ever supposed to stop fucking you, huh?”

“Don’t,” you squeak out. It’s the first intelligible thing you’ve said since you started riding him. You pout, scrunched browed and jutted lip, as your orgasm creeps up your sweat-slick spine. “Don’t want you to ever stop fucking me.”

Steve nearly bursts right then.

He doesn’t mean to take over — to hold your hips still and prop you above him while he plants his feet on the mattress. He doesn’t mean to fuck up into you, but he’s gone just as stupid as you have. His cock twitches and jerks within your snug pussy, and he wants so desperately to come. More than that, he wants to make you come like he knows you’re bound to.

“Yeah? You love my dick, don’t you?” he laughs through bated breaths — like he isn’t rightfully dumb over your pussy. “You always get so slutty for it.”

You don’t know if you want to protest or agree with him. All you do is moan as your fingers dig into his furry chest. The wet slap of his balls against your ass entwines with your cries and his taunts.

“Yeah, you do,” Steve coos, jaw clenched and brows furrowed. He still talks so softly to you like he isn’t fucking you for all you’re worth. “Go ahead, honey, cream on my dick. Make a mess for me… Gonna sit you on my face after, okay? I bet you’ll taste so sweet for me when I’m done with you.”

Your mouth falls in a silent cry. Your pussy spasms around him at the thought of his mouth between your legs, slurping at your honey and his come that leaks from your gaping hole.

“Get yourself there for me, baby,” he commands in a gentle murmur. “Take this dick. Take what you’re given—”

And just like always, you do. 

You orgasm on his stiff cock a second later — not coming, but gushing. His heavy cock jerks inside you right after, spitting several warm loads into your trembling cunt. 

His wide hands find purchase on your sweat-slick back, holding you to his scruffy chest while his hips buck against you, pushing his dick as far as you’ll take him. And, like the good girl you are, you take him all the way.

You take everything he gives you — come, orgasms, and gold necklaces alike.

When your senses return and your heavy breaths go even, Steve feels you smile against his neck. He thinks he must have fucked you so sufficiently stupid that all you can do is grin through the rippling aftershocks of your high.

That’s only half true.

You just know that he’s worked up an appetite after having fucked you so ardently. And you figure he won’t need a piece of jewelry with your initial on it when he’s wearing your come on his chin. 

[ja3hwa]

So random thought, whar if you were a songwriter/producer for ateez and you also happen to be very close friends with them? This is the biggest 3am thought I've ever experienced argh.

MDNI 18 +

-

So it all started when you went over to the dorm to drop off some mix tapes and other files for Hongjoong. You noticed all the members were home, just lounging and doing their own thing. You greeted them quickly before heading to the home studio Hongjoong made. You were expecting to stay long though, after dropping off all the stuff Joong needed, he thanked you and went straight back to focusing on the sound samples in front of him.

You decided to take your leave until Wooyoung shouted down the hall before you got to the front door, asking —more like begging— you to come play at least a round of mario kart cause they were all trying to prove Yeosang was in fact beatable. He just needed the right competitor.

At first, you tried to decline as nicely as possible, saying, "I need to get home before the storm." But all the boys that sat in the louge all pleaded, needing someone to finally prove Yeosang wrong. You sighed, taking off your shoes and plotting yourself down in between Mingi and Yunho. Who were you to turn down a moment of glory anyways...

You ended up playing three rounds before cycling through all the boys in the room. Beating every single one of them.

Jongho suddenly appeared, saying he was going to order take out and that you should also stay for dinner. Yeosang had left with him to the kitchen to make the order, leaving you, san, wooyoung, yunho, and mingi in the longue room. You didn't have time object Jongho's offer as the minute you went to open your mouth in protest, the rain outside got heavier.

Your phone was also dying, and you still had to walk home... you didn't know what to do.

So you went back down the hall asking Joong for a phone charger, which he let you use his. He was curious as to why you were still at the dorms but too focused to ask.

Seonghwa suddenly met you in the hall saying, "You should stay the night. It doesn't seem like the rain is going to let up anytime soon."

"Thanks, but... I don't want to impose." You would reply.

"Nonsense, here I'll give you some clothes so you can clean up." His bright bunny-ish smile made your heart flutter, making you shy away and just simply agreeing with him. This led to you having a shower and giving Hwa your dirty clothes so he could put them in the wash and dryer so you could wear them tomorrow.

And this all ended you up right in this moment, sitting in nothing but one of Seonghwa's shirts and boxers. You were playing with the hem of the shirt as you watched Wooyoung and San set up a card game on the coffee table. Turns out it was a weird drinking game involving truth and dare. But you all were just going to play it without the alcohol.

A couple of rounds passed, Yunho have to bit Mingis ear, San had to spill a secret no one knew about, Wooyoung stripped of his shirt and you had to sit on someones lap for one whole round—it was Mingis—.

It was your turn again to pick up a card. You rolled the dice, and it landed on the number fivex meaning you got dare. So you picked up one of the cards and read it allowed, "Let the person to your left to me you a hickey."

Yunho was instantly blushing since he was the one in fact sitting on your left. He seemed to be giggling like a teenager the minute you caught his gaze. You didn't see much of a problem at first, even though you were freaking at the idea of the Jeong Yunho putting his mouth on you.

"Okay, uh, but it can't be anywhere visible. I have the shoot tomorrow." You warned him, shifting your body so you were sitting, facing him. He grabbed your hips, pulling you towards him without much effort, onto his lap. Now you were the one blushing.

"How about I do it here?" He pointed to the top of your breast that is covered by the t-shirt. You audibly gulped when he said that. You nodded with a quiet "okay." It was so quiet that everyone only barely heard it.

You had to slid the shirt off since you could pull the collar down enough. You used your right hand to hold the piece of fabric over your chest, covering your front as best as you can. You were basically sitting on Yunho's lap in front of the guys, topless.

Your mind was starting to feel dizzy, tilting back a bit, Yunho got a perfect view of the top of your tits. Your soft, plump boobs. He would give anything to grab a fist full of them right now. But alas, Yunho just simply grabbed your hips, pulling you closer before bringing his head down to latch his warm mouth onto your hot goosebumped skin...

AND THEN I WOKE UP!! 😭😭😭 I WAS SO PISSED OFF.... so anywayy ifejjdsj 😖😵‍💫😵‍💫