#but it's just really really frustrating to have this piled on top of all the other shit I'm going through right now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seouljazzbar · 1 month

Text

GO WITH IT

MARK LEE (이민형)

ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it

WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending

PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader

WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe

Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.

The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest.

All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.

The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”

Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry.

“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.

Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”

You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”

White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”

A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”

Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.

“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”

Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”

“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly you needed to be railed? That was a new one.

The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—

“I’ll fuck you.”

You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.

“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats.

“Mark—”

The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

“Shouldn’t be what?”

“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”

The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”

Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”

“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”

That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers.

Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”

It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for— this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.

He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.

“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”

Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…”

“Shouldn’t that be weird?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties.

“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”

“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?”

His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”

“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”

Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”

“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”

“Mark!”

His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”

One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”

Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.

He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”

Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”

His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”

“Mm, don’t be shy.”

Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.

You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.

“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”

It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”

He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.

You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”

Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”

He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”

You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.

“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

“I’m, I’m close.”

He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”

You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”

But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”

“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”

The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”

“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”

It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?”

It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.

“Fuck.”

You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.

“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.

It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.

You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”

It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat.

“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”

“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”

All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet.

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in.

“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.

“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.

Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.” He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.

“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”

“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you.

“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.

Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.

“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”

He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”

Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains.

“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”

He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”

The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”

“‘m gonna cum again.”

He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”

“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.

“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.

“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.”

He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. “So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.

Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed.

You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”

“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”

Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”

“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”

He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”

“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”

He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”

None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.” He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.

“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”

#mark lee smut #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #nct smut #nct x reader #seouljazzbar

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peachesofteal · 10 months

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Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: Your apartment floods. Inspired by and for @liliumbosniacum

"I need to take leave."

Simon's phone is pressed against his face, one hand holding the device, the other with a canvas bag in his hand, it's contents overflowing: blankets, baby clothes, your pillow.

"Everything alright?" Price sounds suspicious, but more curious than anything, and Simon sighs.

"Neighbor's flat flooded. She's got nowhere else to go so I'm letting 'em stay with me for a while." Price, thank fucking god, doesn't push it any further, disconnecting with a rumble about checking in with him next week, wishing him a happy holiday, and a parting good luck.

When he hangs up, you're standing hesitantly in his doorway, pile of clothes in your arms.

"That the last of it?" He asks, and you nod.

"Are y-you sure this is okay?" You're still upset, shaken, and he doesn't blame you. You were terrified when you woke up to bone chilling, ankle deep water, frantically shouting about a burst pipe into the phone over Emmaline's shrieks.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I've got plenty of room." He does. His flat is larger than yours, and though they're both two bedroom floor plans, his bedrooms are bigger, and he has two bathrooms, compared to your one. "I got the crib reassembled in the guest room." He motions to the door that's half opened, a few bags of Emmaline's stuff collected on the floor.

"Thank you." you murmur, and then step forward, burying your face in his chest. He holds you there, rubbing your back, working his thumb into the knot that sits at the base of your neck. “At least we saved the tree,” you laugh, wet and sad, and he hums, bowing to press his lips to your forehead.

“I’m sorry love.”

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Nothing I could control.” You’ve got a point there, and he appreciates the approach, marvels at your ability to not be angry or frustrated with your neighbor, even though it wasn’t really their fault as well. He’s irritated for both of you, anxious over visualizing what would have happened if the chunk of the ceiling that fell was misplaced and landed on you, or Emma.

You pull away, face twisted up into something that looks painful, tears on your lash line, and he frowns. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, sweetheart, c’mon. It’s alright.”

“I know.” You cry, clamping your hand over the bridge of your nose and trying to turn away. “It’s just all her gifts we-were in my room and now they’re ruined, and-“

“Okay, so we’ll get more. We still have plenty of time.” He reassures, rubbing his palms up and down your arms until you come back to him, letting him fold you back into his embrace. “We’ll fix it. Don’t worry.”

“We will?” You sniffle, and he nods.

“I’m on leave, until after the holiday, so I’ll be around, we can go shopping and replace everything. It’s going to be alright. I promise.” That word slips out of him again, promise. I promise, just like he told you this morning when you were frantic and he said it was okay that you stayed with him, I promise, just like he assured last night when you apologized for Emmaline crying for most the evening. “Okay?” His chin rests on the top of your head, and he turns to kiss you, the touch as soft as he can manage. You hum, and then sigh into him.

“Okay Simon.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No.” His refusal is immediate, and you look at him in near exasperation.

“Simon I can’t kick you out of your bed! You’re too big for the couch, anyway, and I don’t mind, I’ve slept on a couch plenty. Plus I’ll be able to hear better, when Emmaline wakes-“

“Sweetheart.” You’re in the living room, bouncing Emmaline in your arms, walking back and forth in front of the fireplace. She’s wearing a red and white striped onesie, like a candy cane, and Simon chuckles when she makes grabby hands at him as he approaches. You sigh, and he tucks his hands under her, lifting her away and into his arms, pleased at how you instantly relax and stretch your back and shoulders in response. “Think you’re getting too big for mama, baby girl.” You roll your eyes, playfully knocking your elbow into his side, and he grunts. “You’re not kicking me out of my own bed.”

“No?” You turn with a hand on your hip, other one holding a half full bottle.

“No, well. I mean-“ he falters, suddenly losing his confidence. “I’m happy to let you have it, or…” He can’t get the words right, can’t communicate what it is he wants to tell you, too worried about scaring you off or being too forward, pushing you too far.

“Or?” You look so pretty, standing in his flat, your belongings, Emma’s, strewn about, just your presence alone making this place feel more like a home than it ever has before. He feels dizzy, overflowing with emotion when Emma lays her head down on his chest, and you smile at her, looking back up at him, delicate, sweet smile on your lips. He bends, tilting your face upwards to meet his, lips ghosting against one another as Emma coos from his arms.

“Or… we can share it.”

#me slowly pressing my dolls together like #peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #light on

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stairain · 6 months

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Good Decoration

After misplacing a folder full of explicit images, the last thing you’d expect was Spencer to take it.

Warnings: Perv Spencer, male masturbation, nudes.

WC: 1.1K

“I have no idea what happened to it.”

Is what Spencer wanted you to believe.

You had misplaced a folder that unfortunately didn’t contain any case files, but instead various explicit photos of yourself. And you recall the last place you had left it was on his desk

Looking at him with an anxious frustration, you start to go through the folders and files he had splayed on his desk.

“Are you sure? I swear I left it here yesterday before I went home.”

Even as you begin to disorganize his workspace, Spencer looks unbothered. With a purse of his lips, he simply looks at you as if as clueless as you are to what had happened.

“I haven’t seen it. Maybe you left it somewhere else.” Or maybe someone took it.

He lied through his teeth, and if you weren’t so naive, you would’ve seen right through it. But instead, you anxiously bite your lip and nod.

Unfortunately for you, Spencer having been the one to take the folder would’ve been the best case scenario. Albeit embarrassing, you knew he’d be the one to not make a scene over it.

“Alright, thank you anyways.”

You say dejectedly before you leave his desk and return to yours, trying your best to stay composed and not tear apart the entire building.

Little did you know, Spencer was the one who had taken the folder. He wasn’t worried in the slightest when you started going through his desk, because the folder was comfortably sat on his bedside table at home.

It was your fault really, you should've been more careful. You'd ordered and printed them at a store and didn’t have time to stop by your place before you had to get to work. So you mindlessly placed them in a folder and in your bag, along with all the other case files you had as well.

Spencer was just sitting at his desk, packing his belongings up to finally go home. But as he was sorting through the pile on his desk, he noticed a dark blue folder slotted in the middle of every other cream colored one.

What started as an innocent curiosity quickly devolved into a perverted fascination as soon as he opened the folder. His eyes were met with the image of your bare chest, pushed up into the view of the lens as your face was left as an afterthought in the background.

He should’ve closed it immediately, slipped it into your desk before anyone else saw it. But with interested fingers that seemed to have a mind of their own, he found himself carding through the images.

They were all of you. Clothed, unclothed, exposed, private.

The office was otherwise empty, only him and a few other people who were packing up to leave anyways. He looked around to make sure no one was near him as he quickly shoved the folder into his bag.

The whole ride home, he contemplated his decision. Whether or not to drive back and put them where they belong.

You were his coworker, this was wrong.

Even as he stepped through the door of his apartment and took the folder with him to his bedroom, he knew it was wrong.

You were the only one who was supposed to have these photos, not him, he told himself as he pulled out the stack of photos.

With trembling hands, he splayed them out against the soft fabric of his bed. There had to have been at least thirty, all lined up as his dilated pupils scanned over each and every one of them.

As one hand held himself up as he leaned over the spread of pictures, the other slotted between the dampened fabric of his underwear and his embarrassingly hard cock.

Spencer didn’t know where to look, as his frantic eyes darted from the stiff peaks of your nipples under your tank top, all the way to where your perfectly manicured fingers were spreading open your slick pussy.

Letting out a low moan, his slim fingers wrapped around his heavy cock, and he couldn’t stop the way he began to hump his hand like some sort of animal.

The man felt disgusting, fucking into his hand as stared down at the collage of you he had created underneath his shaking body.

He had to face you tomorrow, look you right in the eyes as you talked about anything other than how he knows exactly what you look like under all your fancy blazers and fitted dress pants.

It was so wrong, you trusted him so much, and here he was, stroking himself slowly to your nudes like they were in a cheap porn magazine.

You’d be mortified if you knew anyone saw them, and you’d be horrified to know how tightly Spencer was squeezing his cock, desperately trying to replicate what it’d be like to fit into that drenched cunt of yours, the one you so proudly displayed for the camera.

Guttural groans and borderline pathetic whimpers escaped his quivering lips. The tip of his thumb rubbed at the soaked head of his length, and his knees almost buckled at how fucking good it felt.

His mouth hung open and a shaky stream of moans echoed throughout his empty room.

“F-Fuck—“

He was dangerously close, eyes rolling back into his skull, hair falling into his line of sight, spine shuddering in pleasure, he was long gone.

The fast pace of his hand around himself sped up frantically, and his body folded into itself as he imagined how upset and embarrassed you’d look after finding out what he’d done.

A loud whine ripped from his throat and his entire body froze as he thrusted into his hand, shamelessly exploding all over your face and body.

White ribbons of hot cum drip down his hand and pool against the inked surfaces, and he was far too busy moaning to himself to realize how much of a mess he made of you.

But the morning after your suspicion, he made sure he got to the office before you did, inconspicuously hiding it under a pile of papers in your drawer.

He knew you’d chalk it up to your nerves for not looking thoroughly enough the first time, you wouldn’t suspect a thing.

You made a quick stop at his desk to let him know that you found it, and he smiled at you like he had nothing to do with it, even though his pants had gotten tighter at the mere sight of the dark blue folder in those perfectly manifested fingers of yours.

You were so relieved that you had found them before anyone else, that you didn’t even notice that a few were missing.

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut

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yzzyhee · 18 days

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looking out for you — psh

bf!sunghoon x gf!reader

warnings: established relationship, reader is sick, medicines (?), hoon calls reader pretty, low cases work, not proofread & if more lmk !!!

wc: 926ish?

synopsis: even when sick, you have to make sure you get your cuddles later

a/n: im sick. i need sunghoon to take care of me. that’s it. feedbacks are appreciated:( not mean ones though i can take constructive criticism but u can be nice about it lol xoxo

“c’mon, yn. i’m not playing, take your medicine,” sunghoon urges, his voice softened by a mixture of concern and frustration.

you burrow deeper under the blankets, a feeble attempt to shield yourself from the world, and more specifically, from sunghoon’s persistence. you’ve been sick before, countless times in fact, due to your not-so-strong immune system. to you, this feels no different from all those other times — a minor inconvenience that would pass with time. however, sunghoon sees things differently.

the moment you didn’t show up to his hockey practice, something you do religiously, sunghoon knew something was amiss. you had never missed a practice, not even when you had exams or pressing assignments. so, when the practice ended and there was still no sign of you, he didn’t waste a second as he drove over to your apartment, his mind racing with possibilities and heart pounding with worry.

when he let himself into your place, his concerns were confirmed. there you were, curled up in your bed, your face flushed with fever, shivering slightly despite the layers of blankets piled on top of you. his heart ached at the sight, and he immediately set into action.

he made his way to your bathroom, rummaging through the cabinets until he found a towel. after running it under cold water, he wrung it out and gently placed it on your forehead, hoping to cool you down. the feeling of the cold fabric against your hot skin made you stir, but you didn’t wake up. he watched you with a pained expression, wishing he could take away your discomfort, wishing you had called him earlier.

now, with the medicine in hand, sunghoon is trying his best to coax you out from under the covers. his hand rests on the blanket that was wrapped tightly around you, as if it could protect you from more than just the chill in the air.

“yn, please,” he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. “i’m looking out for you, please, i just want you to feel better.”

you peek out from under the blanket, your eyes meeting his. the worry etched into his face makes your heart clench. you know he only wants to help, but the thought of swallowing the bitter medicine makes you grimace.

“ i don’t like the taste,” you murmur, your voice hoarse and weak.

sunghoon let out a soft chuckle, though it was tinged with sadness. “i know, pretty, i know. but it’ll help, i promise.”

he kneels down beside your bed, his hand reaching out to brush a few strands of hair away from your face. his touch is gentle, almost as if he was afraid of hurting you, and you couldn’t help but lean into it. the warmth of his hand was comforting, grounding you in a way that made you feel safe despite how awful you felt.

“you’re burning up, yn,” he says softly. “I’m really worried about you.”

you could see the concern in his eyes, the way his brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down slightly. it makes you feel guilty for making him worry so much. you know he was right, that you had to take the medicine, but the stubborn part of you didn’t want to give in so easily.

sunghoon’s thumb traced small circles on your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. “do it for me, please? just this once?”

you sigh, feeling a little more willing to give in, but you can’t resist asking, “promise me cuddles later? once i’m feeling better… i don’t want you getting sick as well.”

sunghoon expression softens even more, if that’s possible and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “i promise,” he says, his voice tender. “as soon as you’re better, i’ll cuddle you all you want.”

you sigh, finally relenting as you reach out a hand from under the blanket, allowing him to place the medicine in your palm. he hands you a glass of water, watching carefully as you swallow the pill with a wince.

“there,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

you shake your head slightly, the medicine already beginning to settle in your stomach. you still feel awful, but knowing that sunghoon is here, taking care of you and promised you cuddles later, made it a little more bearable.

he tucks you back into bed, making sure the blankets are snug around you. as he sits beside you, his hand gently stroking your hair, you can feel the warmth of his care wrapping around you like another layer of blankets. even in your feverish state, you know you’re in the good hands of your boyfriend.

“get some rest,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “i’m not going anywhere.”

you let out a small giggle and look up at him, “you should change your career, doctor park… on second thought, maybe not.. it’d mean others can see how sweet you are and trick you into giving them cuddles.”

sunghoon smiles softly and meets your gaze. he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead and whispers “these cuddles are reserved only for you.”

you feel your heart flutter and smile faintly, your eyes already beginning to close again. as sleep pulls you under, the last thing you feel is sunghoon’s gentle kiss on your forehead, and the reassurance that when you wake up, he’ll still be right there, ready to hold you close—just as he promised.

#— 💭 mars ; written work #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon fic #sunghoon drabble #sunghoon imagine #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon fic #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff

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rillian4e · 11 months

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Are they dominant or submissive in bed?

ft& Childe, Wriothesley, Scaramouche, Neuvillette

Childe: For him, being the dominant one in bed is something he loves. Childe prefers being the one on top, doing the work while you lay there all pretty, taking it like the obedient girl he made you for him. That doesn't mean that he doesn't let you be the dominant one on occasion, he likes a challenge, be it testing his own limits or that of his partner. But most nights he is far too impatient for that, instead indulging his desires and rashiving you for himself. "Archons... you and your body—drives me crazy," whispering into your ear as he moaned shamelessly, before long releasing his fluids deep into your needy pussy. "Fuck—one more, baby, yeah?" one more would turn into two and then you both would lose count, knowing it would never really end up as only one more.

Wriothesley: As for the Duke of the fortress of Meropide, he is similiar to Childe except he is a patient man, he would let you be the dominant one, watching you struggle and end up pleading for him to help you which eventually turns into full-blown rough sex with him, just what you both needed. Wriothesley would adore taunting you when you try being dominant, it's in his nature to tease and all the more if it's his sweet lover, trying to switch things up in the bedroom. Most times it ends up with him, releasing his pent-up frustration on you, you gladly take it all—enjoying the way his fat length rams into your hole, the wet and squelcing noises filling his office. "Mm...are you close? Yes? Well, hold it, sweetheart. You don't deserve to cum yet, you need to earn it." Purposefully teasing you even as tears fill your eyes, the way he was pinching your nipples harshly not helping in the slightest.

Scaramouche: The dominant one. Nothing else needs to be said here, he doesn't like feeling vulnerable and having you be in charge, just feels so wrong to him. Due to him being a puppet, his stamina is insane and he isn't easy to please, so he would much rather be in control. He would have you spread out, legs wide open as he smirked at the sight of your pussy clenching around nothing. Normally he would tease you and make you beg but when he gets too impatient, he would simply enter you without any warning, adoring the way you moan in pain and pleasure at the stretch. "fuck...you're so tight—loosen up a little, will you?" His words wouldn't get any less mean, your fucked out expression only making him more turned on, his desire to make you break deepening.

Neuvillette: Sweetest man ever. He is fine with anything you want, you want to be on top? Your wish is his comman. You want him to be in charge? Of course. He would do anything for you, no matter how unreasonable of a request. You have him wrapped around your little finger, and you love it. Even when he has you in a mating press, ravishing your body and using you for his pleasure—which you absolutely love when he does. But on a typical day after completing the long piles of paperwork, he considers it a reward to have you bent over his desk, his big, fat cock fucking into your dripping cunt, that's the sweetest reward he could get. "You feel so warm...I didn't know I needed this, maybe I should have you as my reward like this more often, hm?" His sweet praises were music to your ears, telling you about how good you were doing for him. His soft groans and hot breath on your neck makes you all the more needy for him.

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #childe smut #wriothesley smut #wanderer smut #scaramouche smut #genshin impact imagine #neuvillette smut #genshin impact smut #neuvilette x reader #ajax smut #tartaglia smut

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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 2 months

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When They Accidentally Bring Up an Insecurity |Hyunjin

The evening was quiet in the shared apartment you and Hyunjin lived in. The air was filled with a gentle hum from the city outside and the occasional flicker of streetlights casting shadows on the walls. You were sprawled on the couch, your laptop open in front of you, surrounded by papers and notes. A mountain of work and a looming deadline had you feeling overwhelmed, and the pressure was building up inside you.

But you couldn't manage the stress and just sat there, letting it ruminate in your mind that you had these deadlines.

So while you were getting some work done, it was getting done really slowly, and you were utterly exhausted.

But all your life you had been told you were lazy; so work ethic had been engrained in you, and you felt like sometimes it was all you knew how to do.

The deadlines making you stressed, but the stress not allowing you to work on the things that were due. But your deep seeded insecurity making it so you pushed yourself to work even when you weren't in the mental state to do so.

Hyunjin entered the living room, fresh from a dance practice, his face flushed and his clothes slightly damp with sweat.

His dark hair was a little bit stringy with perspiration, a testament to the amount of work he had put in.

"Baby, I'm home."

He greeted you with a warm smile, but his eyes quickly took in the scene of scattered papers and your furrowed brow. “Hey, you look like you’re buried under a lot of work. Everything okay?”

You forced a smile and tried to sound upbeat. “Yeah, just a bit of a tight deadline. I’ll get through it.”

The tall(ish) boy cocked his head at you and set down his duffel bag, opting to walk barefoot rather than put on the matching house slippers you guys had.

Yours were kicked off somewhere in the kitchen.

Hyunjin sat down next to you, glancing at the mess around you. “You know, you don’t have to take on everything at once. Maybe you should take a break or get some help.”

You shook your head, trying to push the frustration down. “I’ll be fine. I just need to power through it.”

Hyunjin’s gaze softened with concern. “I know you’re strong, but it’s okay to admit when you’re struggling. You don’t have to handle everything by yourself.”

"Hyunjin, I said I'm fine."

He huffed. "You're not fine Y/N. I see your obviously struggling."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"Hyunjin stop-"

"No. Take a break."

"I need to get this done."

"Your mental health comes first." He stated firmly, collecting your papers.

"Hyunjin stop-"

"Not until you eat." He said collecting your papers. "You need to step away from this for a second-" He grabbed multiple piles of papers that were obviously separated and you let out a noise as Hyunjin put the piles together, then adding it into another pile of other papers.

"Hyunjin what the fuck?!" You exclaimed as you rushed up from the couch and started sorting through the papers. "Shit..." You groaned, feeling tears brim your eyes in anger and frustration and exhaustion. "Are you kidding me right now Hyunjin?" You grit out looking at him.

Hyunjin stood resolute. "No, I'm serious Y/N! You're mental health is declining! You're focused on work so much that you don't even have time to focus on anything else! Even taking care of yourself, are you seriously okay with that?!"

His voice was loud, and you logically knew he wasn't yelling at you; he didn't mean to yell, he wasn't angry he was concerned but you didn't want to process the reality of the situation.

So instead you burst out into tears.

Hyunjin's eyes immediately widened, thinking you were crying because of him.

"Baby- no, no, no, baby don't cry please...please..." He said making his way to you. "No, I didn't mean to make you cry...I'm sorry...baby...I'm sorry..."

You fell limp into his arms and he held you, his chin resting on top of his head as you cried into his chest.

His sweet nothings became silent when he realized you just needed him to hold you.

You felt secure in his embrace, his scent adding a level to that security.

It seemed that you two stood there forever, until Hyunjin looked down to see you had fallen asleep.

Hyunjin knew something was up as he moved you over to the couch, running his hands through your hair.

He let you sleep there, as he looked at your laptop, screen filled with things that he didn;t understand, but knew were of importance to your job.

He sighed and wished he could do something to help, looking at the pile of papers and realizing that he had probably messed up something based on your reaction.

You woke up, and the lights in your living room were still on, but the clock in it showed that it was 4 in the morning.

"Jagiya?" Hyunjin said quietly, rubbing his eyes as you sat up from his lap.

You noticed he was still in his practice clothes.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

Hyunjin shook his head, looking at you with tired eyes. "Are you okay?"

You blinked.

"Are you truly okay?" He asked quietly.

You swallowed and shook your head.

"Can you help me at least understand? Help me understand why work is so important that you set aside your needs?"

You opened your mouth, it felt dry but you spoke.

"I just have to." You said, not wanting to discuss things further at the moment.

Hyunjin was tempted to ask you to continue, but he knew you would come to him when you needed.

The next day went buy in a flash, as you spent most of it sorting out what Hyunjin had mixed together.

That evening, as you both settled down for bed, the tension from the previous day seemed to linger in the quiet space of your room. Hyunjin lay on his side, scrolling through his phone, while you lay on your back, staring at the ceiling.

“Hyunjin,” you said quietly, breaking the silence. “Do you ever get overwhelmed with things, but keep going to make other people happy?”

He looked over at you, his brow slightly furrowed. He set his phone down and turned his body to you. “Do you?”

You hesitated before responding, your voice tinged with vulnerability. “I'm tired but...I don't want to be called lazy. I've spent my entire life being labeled that and I came here to start over. Yet...I feel like...I'm not measuring up. Maybe those people were right to call me lazy. I'm stuck in a cycle of wanting to quit, because I'm tired to the point of tears Hyunjin, I'm tired.” You licked some of the tears off your top lip and gulped for air. "But I don't want people to think I'm quitting because I'm lazy I just don't know if I can handle it anymore."

Hyunjin’s expression shifted from curiosity to concern. He sat up, turning to face you fully. “Did my comment hurt you?”

The vulnerability in your voice had clearly affected him. He reached out and took your hand gently. “I don’t want you to think that it was meant to hurt you. Rather, love, I'm sort of disproving your insecurity...not invalidating but disproving. Because I think you work too much, love. I see you day after day work yourself until you can barely move. It hurts me to see you disregard yourself for something like work.”

You felt one tear escape as you looked at him, trying to keep your emotions in check. “It’s just hard when that's how I've programmed my brain."

Hyunjin’s expression softened further, and he scooted closer to you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. “I want you to know that it’s okay to lean on me when you’re feeling overwhelmed. You don’t have to go through everything alone. Your struggles are valid, and I’m here to support you.”

You nestled into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his presence. Letting yourself completely go. “I'm tired, Jinnie. I can't take it anymore.”

Hyunjin stroked your hair gently, his voice soothing. “Do you love me?”

You sniffed and nodded.

"Then, can you stop hurting the person I love most and let me take care of them?" He murmured while brushing your hair back from your face so it wouldn't stick to the tears.

You couldn't even reply, but by the way your fingers tightened their grip around his shirt he took it as enough of an answer.

The room was filled with a sense of calm as you both lay there together, the weight of the day slowly lifting. Hyunjin’s reassuring words and the comfort of his embrace helped to ease the anxiety you had been carrying and quickly lulled you to sleep.

In the months that followed, Hyunjin worked silently to make sure that you didn't have to feel stressed. He made you use up your vacation time- weeks upon weeks that had piled up due to your refusal to use them.

And the week before your vacation ended, Hyunjin came to you, squatting down in front of you as you sat on the floor of his art studio, covered in paint and splattering it everywhere in abstract expression. You had a real smile on your face as you looked up at him, a bit of red paint streaked across you making it look like you had a unibrow.

"Hi, Jinnie!" You exclaimed rubbing the paint onto your pants. Hyunjin smiled and spoke.

"You're happy." He stated.

"I am, it's...been really nice. Not having to work..." You bit your lip. "I go back next week."

Hyunjin licked his bottom lip. "How about you don't?"

You stared at him wide eyed.

"Come work with me. I talked to the company and explained everything. They're okay with you coming to work for us. You've always liked taking pictures, so they're willing to offer you a position as a photographer. It'll only be about 30 hours a week because of our other photographers; and you might not have to anything other than really be at the photoshoots to help out the others, but they're kind and you can still stay around us when you're not working. Or, you can help script some of our videos. Or my personal favorite is you just travel and hang out with me and let me invest all my money in you." His head was tilted slightly as he looked at you.

"Do...Can I really do that? Work for you guys? You won't think I'm lazy?"

Your hopeful and amazed tone broke Hyunjin's heart slightly, that the opportunity to work a less cumbersome job was something so foreign to you that you were that excited.

"Of course, baby." He said so quietly it was almost inaudible.

You nodded enthusiastically, looking for your phone. "I need to write my two weeks and-"

"No, baby. Just quit. Don't worry about the repercussions or anything. Let me take care of you. No one is going to call you lazy. I won't allow it. Because taking care of yourself is a job within itself. A never ending one at that."

He placed a kiss on your cheek.

"So, don't let that be an insecurity anymore. Let me take on your workload. Take all your effort."

He smiled.

"And put it into you, because you're the priority now."

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

#skz imagines #skz stay #skz fluff #skz angst #skz hyunjin #skz x gn reader #skz x reader #hwang hyunjin #stray kids

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2kiran · 2 months

Note

Hi‼️ lurker here‼️ just wanna say that your works are awesome‼️‼️ and that your dash always looks so cool and pretty every time I come around to check up on you‼️ your works are so good and you’re such a talented writer‼️

also… can I…can I ask for a tired reader being surrounded by a very demanding and needy 141? Like I’m not all that creative like the other anons but like I just really like the reader satisfying the 141s in any way his tired form can‼️ whether it’s by letting them ride his dick until they’re satisfied or having them being cock warmed as reader falls asleep‼️

sorry for this‼️ just thoughts and brain worms are weird rn and I thought that you would carry these out well… back to lurking now‼️

p.s. the ‼️ are just here to show excitement not to be scary or anything I’m sorry

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: bottom 141, top male reader, consensual somnophilia, cowgirl position, cockwarming, fingering, dividers

The weight of the missions and daily tasks being distributed made your limbs slack, eyes droopy, body boneless and desperate to pass out for even a week. You’re dozing off the second you sit down or rest against a wall, jerking awake when shaken by your mate. It isn’t your fault that you’re hardworking when needed, and everything was becoming a necessity to put your full attention on.

You need a break.

On the other hand, your team doesn’t seem to agree.

They’re clingy, more than usual. When you’re in a room with them, it seems as though their presence is the only thing that matters. Unabashedly acting like animals in heat, they’d sometimes even gently rut against your thigh.

Their excuse? You’ve been neglecting them, rarely glancing or facing towards their direction. Sometimes, you’d fail to acknowledge them in passing which evidently piles up their frustration and need to turn the source into the outlet.

And you’ll let them. They know you will.

Soap is the first one to snap. The man’s too needy for his own good. He can’t stop thinking about you, your hands wandering along his body, allowing him to take a sniff of pleasure before you’re shoving him away. But now? Now you’re doing it unintentionally.

He’s concerned, knowing damn well that he shouldn’t bother you. And yet, he can’t keep it within his pants. You’ll be good for him, right?

“Shit, tha’s it, love...” Soap groans, face contorting with blissful relief. He rolls his hips, desperate to feel every inch of your cock - the one that had him dreaming about it, waking up with his boxers damp, and hole twitching from being so empty - “Y’can get some shut-eye, ‘s alrigh’.”

You’re hanging onto your consciousness by a mere thread, the promise of slumber darkening the edges of your view while simultaneously heightening the sensation of slick, twitching warmth wrapped around your length. Small moans left him, thick brows knitted together in concentration.

Soap cannot remain still for the life of him. He sinks further down, enveloping you in his tight heat and squeezes you with it. His jaw hung open, mouth agape, and his thighs are quivering in a poor attempt not to fuck back against your cock with his desperate hole.

The second is Price. He may be a responsible and patient captain, but he’s still a man with lustful requirements. He needs to let off stream, you know?

“Hhang... that’s a good man.” He ruts his hips against yours, the plushy thickness of his scarred thighs rippling with each bounce. If you’re comfortable with it, he’ll take a drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke slip through his teeth as a breathy moan rasps from his throat.

God, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the feel of you. Your tip meeting the spot that has him high with squelchy smacks, the scratchy stubble spread on his chin making the firm muscle of your shoulder raw whenever he angled himself forward to make you pound into him deeper.

Such a good soldier, you are. “Stay still, m‘fuckin’ close.” He huffs. Your cock twitches in response, and his lips curves in a self-satisfied grin. It has him riding you harder, rim taut, his pace fast and it makes the both of you dependent on chasing that point.

The Captain isn’t afraid to milk you for all you’re worth, either. It’s your own fault for making him needy. – “C’mon, you’ve got more in you, don’t you?”

Gaz is the next one. He heard your ‘interaction’ with the other men, smelled how Soap and Price practically reeked of well-deserved sex. It has arousal pool in his lower belly, dick twitching to life at the possibility of finally being satiated by you.

He’ll praise you for it; “Good boy, letting me use you like this.”, “Th-thank you, my love. Fuckin’ me so well.” and “Shh, I know. Go rest. I’ll just suck your pretty dick off, yeah?”

You think he’ll prep himself because you’re melting into the sheets to nap? No, you’re terribly wrong. He’d grip your wrist firmly, lubing your fingers up, and gently make them breach his tight hole. He gasps, immediately clenching from how intense it felt.

Gaz smiles fondly at how you seem to battle sleep, nodding mindlessly. When you do succumb to the urge, he’s biting his lip to contain his pathetic noises. You look so peaceful, and here he is fucking himself on your fingers. He’s holding onto your forearm, guiding you back and out. The murmurs of slick ringing through the room as he throws his head back.

“Fuckkk...” He’d mutter, fisting his own cock with rough jerks. Leaning down, he peppers kisses all across your jaw. He’s unbelievably turned on, rocking his hips to take in your digits completely. He’s getting desperate, but he will wait for you to wake up before he shoves your cock down his throat.

Ghost corners you. Sure, he’s got better self-control than the rest of the men. But hey, he’s still a human with very human needs.

Doesn’t matter if you’ve got a broader and hulking figure or a shorter stature, he’s guiding you with his frame until your knees hit the edge of a bed or a threadbare seat and your aching back is laying down. His mouth twitching in a mock snarl to have you submit. All with your consent, of course.

One of his favorite things to do to tease you? He loves to keep on asking you “This okay, luv?” and “Hmm? Y’want me to touch ya here?” until you’re begging him to finally fuck himself on your leaky dick that he’s been either playing with his roughened digits or warming with his inviting heat the entire time.

Rides you so slowly, hips rocking ever so slightly, and his soft walls pulse as they give way to your length. And it’s all to keep you awake, tightening up when you’re about to fall asleep on him. He wants you to be completely aware when he’s in the heights of arousal and he has you balls deep inside of him.

“Wake up, swee’art. Fuck– eyes on me, yeah, there we go.” / “Oh, you like tha’? Uh-huh? Good boy, you do.”

–

Or you have Price behind you, one of his arms slung around your waist as he thumbs at your slit until it��s coated in your pre. Soap’s tugging at your shaft, his fist enclosed and tight, consistent and oh so whiny like you’re inside of him. “Ye can fuck me harder, (rank), jus’ like this.”

Gaz on his knees, his tongue flicking at your sensitive veins. They’ll be toying with your cock as you lean back against the captain, letting sleep overtake you until you feel someone familiar climb into your lap. The other men supporting Ghost’s weight as he takes your dick in his skull-gloved hand, guiding the head to meet his rim and he sinks down with a low groan.

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zepskies · 4 months

Text

Down to the Crust

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You’ve set out on a very specific mission for Dean. The problem is, you now have ulterior motives for your (formerly) pure love of baking.

Request: Since reading your imagine, "Dean Gives You an Impossible Choice," I have not been able to shake it, one point specifically. I was wondering if I could request a fic where the reader is learning to bake pies for Dean. She's best friends with the boys, but she and Dean have undisclosed feelings for each other…

AN: You guys know I love baking shenanigans lol. This one is set at a particular time during season 14…

Song Inspo: “Joy” by Blackstreet

Word Count: 2.6K

Tags/Warnings: Flangst, hurt/comfort, hint of spice~

No, no, no, no, NO!

You did your best to scoop out the salt you’d just poured into the flour.

You can’t really be this dumb, you berated yourself. How could you confuse one white powdery thing for another? Salt vs. sugar—it wasn’t that hard!

You shook your head in simmering frustration. You decided to just dump the whole contents of the bowl, salty flour and all, into the garbage. You’d have to start again…for the third time now.

Frankly, this was getting ridiculous. You could make cookies, brownies, even cupcakes (with homemade buttercream).

How hard could a pie really be?

Maybe it was the telltale tremble of nerves in your hands.

Maybe it was because you had an ulterior motive for doing this, besides your formerly pure love of baking.

Maybe because this promised dessert was for one pie-loving glutton who was set to come upstairs from the garage any minute. Or at least, whenever Dean’s stomach finally called him back to the kitchen.

Though recently, he hadn’t been all that hungry. He’d denied your friendly offer of a snack earlier (since when did he turn down taquitos?), and he’d barely touched the pizza you guys had for dinner yesterday. (One slice? The man could eat half a pizza in one sitting. To your knowledge, there wasn’t a pie he didn’t like.)

Dean hid it well, but he wasn’t on his game. You knew why, of course, but…

You sighed and measured out the last of your flour for a fresh try. If you messed this one up, you’d literally have to wash your hands of this mission. And yes, it had become mission fucking impossible, as far as you were concerned.

Once the flour was safely mixed with a cup of sugar, you cut up some chilled butter to create the pastry dough. You followed the instructions in the recipe even more carefully this time, from your open laptop on the kitchen counter. The keyboard was dusted with flour at this point, along with your hands and arms. You even felt it under your nails and in your hair, but you didn’t care.

You were going to make this damn pie if it killed you.

You’d even bought real cherries, not the canned filling. It meant more work for you in removing all the pits inside them, but this was worth the extra labor.

However, as it just occurred to you, you’d left them simmering with some sugar, lemon juice, and cornstarch in a pan, around the time of your second attempt at pastry dough.

“No!” you gasped, hastening to open the lid and checking the saucepan.

Oh, thank God, you thought, seeing that the cherry filling wasn’t bubbling over. It actually looked like the proper thickened consistency and smelled delicious. You just needed to do some more stirring.

An hour or so later, you had successfully shaped the dough, chilled and poured in the filling, and covered it with the (embarrassingly uneven) lattice work on top.

“Whatever. The man still believes in the Five-Second Rule. He’ll eat this,” you muttered as you slid the pie in. You even remembered to do an egg wash on top. You admired it for a moment in its raw pastry form, then closed the lid to the oven with a nod of satisfaction.

You wore a wide smile, feeling accomplished, until you turned around and saw the disaster you’d made of the kitchen. Flour was dusted across the counters, a pile of dishes in the sink, cherry remnants in the pan and dripping across the stove, and so much more. You winced at the sight.

“What the hell is this?” came a gruff voice.

Your gaze drew to the doorway with a sharp intake of breath. Dean was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a bewildered expression on his face.

The man had a thing about people in “his kitchen.” You got ready to placate him with your hands raised as you took a step towards him, but then you gasped.

“Shit!” you yelped, slipping in some egg that had dropped on the floor. Your hand accidentally banged the oven on the way down, but your head also hit the corner of the wall.

You ended up sprawled on your side across the dirty floor, dazed and winded. Dean hurried to your side with one of those frowns that always made you want to smooth the wrinkle between his brows.

He braced your shoulder, almost but not quite touching your hip with his free hand.

“Damn. You okay? This ain’t a slip n’ slide,” he said.

Your lips twitched at a smile, but you sighed. “I’m okay.”

“You hit your head?” he asked, beginning to help you up slowly.

“A little,” you admitted. “Nothing the old bag of frozen carrots in the freezer won’t cure.”

Dean grimaced, but after he made sure you were settled on your feet, he checked the back of your head. You tried not to blush (and revel) at the feeling of his fingers slipping into your hair, even if he was trying to feel for a knot back there.

He was close enough that you could almost feel his body heat through the black shirt he wore, for once without the outer layer of plaid. He smelled like grease and sweat; likely he’d been working on Baby.

Were you weird for kind of liking that smell?

“Well, I don’t feel any goose eggs, so you’re probably fine,” he remarked.

“Thanks, House. Is that your final prognosis?” you asked, beginning to smirk.

Dean’s gaze met yours in amusement.

“Tell you what,” he said, “If you get a headache, I give you full permission to take one of the fun little pills I’ve got in my dresser.”

You laughed. “If it’s not Vicodin, I don’t want it.”

House M.D. was one of those shows you and Dean liked to watch together, along with Game of Thrones, and even Smallville, on occasion.

Dean smiled slightly. But even that was a small feat, and something you hadn’t seen from him in weeks. Not a real smile, anyway. Before today, nothing you’d tried had been working to brighten his mood.

Not pizza Fridays. Not letting him listen to the same damn Zeppelin album without complaint for that eight-hour ride on the last hunt. Not trying to gouge his level of broodiness and offering to hang out, to be a listening ear if he needed it.

He still hadn’t taken you up on the last one. While that hurt, you also understood it. You understood how Dean dealt with things he didn’t want to think about, let alone talk about, even to his own brother.

Dean now looked down on you knowingly, gesturing at the rest of the kitchen.

“You gonna tell me what you’re doing in here?” he asked.

You crossed your arms and raised your chin, a smile playing on your lips.

“What, can’t handle somebody else in your kitchen? What’re you, Gordon Ramsey?” you teased.

Dean’s brows kicked up, his lips twitching.

“You’ve made a mess of my kitchen any number of times, but I ain’t ever smelled sweet, sweet cherry coming out of that oven,” he said. “You’re finally making me pie?”

You had to laugh. Inside, you were pleased that he now looked excited, his green eyes dancing. You clapped your hands over his arms.

“Yes, I’m making you your damn pie. Only took me fifteen tries, but it’s happening,” you said. You turned to check on it, but the second you opened the oven, black smoke billowed out.

Your eyes widened in horror and your mouth fell open on reflex, but harsh coughs tore from your throat as you waved your hand against the smoke. Dean quickly handed you the oven mitts, and you shoved them on before taking out the steaming dessert.

The entire top crust was scorched black. Cherry filling oozed out, and not in a good way. You slammed the oven shut with your hip, and you had to toss the pan onto the counter for how hot it was.

Inside that pan was a dreadful excuse for a pie.

Dean had an arm crossed under his elbow, while a hand came up to cover his mouth as he took in the state of it. He then looked over at you.

He saw the shock, settling into pursed lips and tight shoulders. You turned in slow movements.

You saw that the oven had been switched to “Broil” on the highest setting. You’d probably messed that up when you fell and hit the dial with your hand. But Christ, was that a powerful oven.

Those old white guys really didn't mess around when they built this damn bunker, you thought sourly.

Dean took another look at the steaming pie and grimaced, despite his amusement.

“Well, she won’t be entering any beauty pageants, that’s for sure,” he teased.

His playful smirk fell, however, the moment you turned around. He saw the way you were biting your lip, and the tears brimming in your eyes.

He softened, and he went to you.

“Aww, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he chuckled, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “‘S probably better than I could do.”

You rested your head against his chest and sniffled. You blinked to try to stem off your tears.

“It’s not about the damn pie! I mean, not really. It’s just…” you trailed.

You quieted, realizing you were about to say things you’d rather not.

Dean noticed though. Because of course he did.

“Then what’s it about?” he asked.

You avoided his gaze at first, though he was too perceptive not to notice. He jostled you a little against his side.

“Huh? You wanna answer me?” he asked. His lips curved at the way you were fighting a smile yourself. Your tears won out though.

You turned under his arm and leaned up on your toes, so you could hug him. Your arms twined around his neck and you held him tight.

To say it surprised Dean would be an understatement, his eyes widening a fraction. He still held you back, almost on reflex.

“I couldn’t do anything else,” you said, through tears. “Not for you, or Sam…or for Mary.”

Dean’s confusion descended into grim understanding. A weight fell deep in his gut, clenching painfully the way it always did, when he thought about his mom.

The fact that Jack didn’t have his soul didn’t make a difference, no matter what Sam said. Not in Dean’s mind, anyway.

Jack had killed their mom.

She was gone, had been taken from them. And that second loss had torn a new chasm in Dean’s heart, deeper than the last one. He held you a bit tighter without realizing it.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing his back. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to…to do something for you.”

Slowly, Dean pulled away a little. His hands moved to your waist as he looked down on you with a heaviness in his eyes. For a moment, he just took in the contours of your face, your eyes shining with tears that clung to your lashes. You were looking up at him like all you wanted to do was fix it. And fix him.

Well, you had to know that was a lost fucking cause. But it just didn’t stop you from staying here with him and Sam, living with them, hunting with them, being one of the last friends they had, after all these years.

It didn’t stop Dean from loving you for it, either.

He let out a breath, and he couldn’t help but raise a hand to get some of the flour off your cheek. He smoothed the back of his hand against your skin, along your jaw, and finally brushed his thumb across your lower lip, where you had worried it with your teeth.

“You’re too damn much, you know that?” he murmured.

You were blushing hot at his touch, but you frowned at his words. Until you noticed the fond glint in his eyes…and for the first time, something more. Something he was finally allowing you to see.

When he bent down and claimed your lips, your thoughts stuttered to a halt. You gripped the front of his shirt instinctively. He framed your face with his hands; they were calloused and smelled like motor oil, but you didn’t give a shit. Not one iota. Because it meant something, and your heart swelled with a warmer, brighter feeling.

You gripped his shirt tighter and leaned up to meet his second kiss. His hand moved to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You grabbed onto his shoulders and let him invade your mouth with his warm tongue slipping against yours. You moaned, the sound echoing between you both and shooting right to his dick.

His brows furrowing, Dean’s fingers slipped into your hair again, but this time, to tangle in the strands. He walked you back until your ass hit the counter, where he grabbed hold of your thighs and hefted you on top of it, regardless of whatever stains covered its surface.

He moved in between your jean-clad thighs and encouraged you wordlessly to wrap them around his hips. You didn’t need much encouragement.

“Dean,” you whispered, between heated kisses, hands wandering down your body, exploring soft curves and warmth over clothing.

“Hmm?” he said, into your mouth. It was distracting, but you found the strength to slow things down, gently taking his face into your hands.

You both caught your breath for a moment. It allowed Dean to see the thread of uncertainty in your gaze, even though you caressed his stubble-covered cheeks.

“I just…do you…is this…” you tried, but your brain seemed to be on a short fuse. You blamed his sinful lips entirely.

Said lips drew into a smirk. Dean’s hands moved up your thighs and held your waist less gripping, more comforting (and claiming).

“I really do, and damn straight it is,” he said, slightly teasing. He did lean back in to press a gentler kiss to your lips.

“Trust me,” he said, as he became more serious. “If you want more from this…”

At that, your uncertainty melted into warmth. You released his face, holding onto his shoulders instead.

“Yeah, Dean,” you nodded. “More than anything, yes.”

He read your sincerity, and it warmed him too. Again, he gave into the urge to brush his thumb against your blushing cheek.

“I uh…I had a feeling it was always gonna be you,” he said.

You raised a brow at that, even though your smile threatened to unravel him further.

“Oh, yeah? How long?” you asked.

Dean pretended to think.

“Since that first batch of oatmeal cream pies,” he said, with a cheeky grin. “Pretty sure I was marked from there on out.”

And not just because he’d been imagining what you’d be like to taste, ever since.

You giggled, though you gestured with your eyes at the charred pan next to you on the counter.

“Guess I should try again on that pie. Wonder what that’ll get me,” you hedged, letting your thumb graze his neck. Dean smirked.

“All right, sure. Remind me to pick up a new fire extinguisher,” he said.

You guffawed and hit his shoulder, but he just laughed and pulled you in for another kiss.

It was sweet enough on its own.

AN: I know, I know. I'm a sap. 😂 Let me know what you thought of this pie-filled episode! 🥧 💕

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma

@iprobablyshipit91 @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy

@wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons

@anticxrrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk

@midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19 @agalliasi @venicesem

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx

@candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester

@chernayawidow @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse

649 notes · View notes

teacupwrites · 7 months

Text

Vees with a Android Reader

Valentino

Valentino had plenty of servants around, such as Kitty

So he didn’t really need another little assistant

But what he did need was a maid

And Valentino isn’t the biggest fan of actual demons that can make mistakes, so he just went out and bought a cleaning android

You were pretty small, about 4’11 and came with a little maid dress and a feather duster

When Valentino first powered you on, he expected a cute little robot who’d follow his orders and not say a word

But you weren’t normal- far from it actually

The Moth Overlord was greeted with a bubbly little maid who would follow him around like a lost puppy whenever you weren’t deep cleaning the place like a maniac

You were eccentric, though obedient and that was what he mostly cared about

Vox nearly had a heart attack when he first met you as you immediately jumped up onto him to clean some dust upon his flat face

Whenever Vox was gone, and Valentino didn’t have anyone to rant to, he would always make a mess of his quarters whilst screaming his frustrations out to you as you quickly cleaned up his trash

Slowly but surely, Valentino grew fond of you, and even would gift you in new clothes or cleaning supplies whenever he was feeling charitable

He treats you better than his other employees, but he also thinks less of you, like you are an Imp or something like that, but he still likes you

“Darling I’m pretty sure that it’s clean,” he protested, looking down at your skittering figure as you darted from place to place in an attempt to keep everything tidy.

He was elegantly perched on his couch, holding up a drink Kitty had brought over earlier, watching in amusement as you dashed around in a panic. There was a party happening, and you were eager to make sure everything looked nice

“No it isn’t!” you called back, snatching an empty glass and quickly stuffing it into the dishwasher. “Everything’s so dirty!” You crawled around with such speeds that Valentino might have mistaken you for a little bug, which was actually one of his many nicknames for you

“Whatever you say, ladybug,”

Velvette

Long story short, Velvette was running out of patience

She needed models to advertise, and all of them kept dying or were just outright ugly in the outfits she provided

After complaining to Vox for forever, he suggested that she buy a model bot

With some convincing, she actually listened, and went out and purchased one, which happened to be you

Though you were bland, so before powering you on she was quick to pazazz and doll you up

And when you did wake up, and did as your manual said, she was pleased

For once, Velvette was nice to someone, and it was a little robot who was constantly pasted onto billboards, commercials, and magazines all dressed in her products

She was chill with you, and you weren’t complaining about free makeup, perfume and clothing

The only thing was that she was very controlling, and liked to have you as her arm candy basically wherever she went

But it was nice to almost never be on the receiving end of her Cockney accent and British slang

Not many people knew your name outside of the V tower, so people online nicknamed you Dolly,

You didn’t really have a name actually, but Velvette enjoyed calling you things like: ‘Sweetheart’ “Dollface’ and ‘Sugar’

And very…very rarely, she will sometimes listen to your opinions, things you picked up on when working with her

“Ugh! All of this is trash!” Velvette snapped, stomping with a deep glare at the line up of demons who had crafted the clothing you were dressed up in.

They all winced underneath her sharp and furious gaze, recoiling away from her quippy and sassy comments as she scolded the people. Meanwhile, you glanced over at something on the pile of clothing.

“Velvette?” you called, making her whip over to glare at you, to which you shyly pointed over to a black and hot pink crop top that sat atop the pile. “What if I matched that with the skirt?”

She seemed skeptical, but with a snap of your fingers, your sleeveless turtleneck was replaced by the crop top, which magically seemed to match the boots and the fitted skirt you wore

Never before had you seen Velvette so surprised before.

“Sweetheart you’re a genius!” she chirped, her frown switching to a bright smile in a second. Velvette then darted over to you, grabbing you by the side and pulling you into a side hug. “Alright- we’re gonna go get you some upgrades today just because of how smart you are.”

Vox

Vox is a lot different from the others simply because he had built you

Originally, you were going to be an assistant type of bot he was going to sell worldwide, with secret cameras in your optics so he could spy on more of Hell

But mistakes were made, and you, the first prototype, ended up adopting a personality he grew quick to enjoy

Though he did end up selling more advanced models like yourself, he kept you, the first

Instead, you were the main hostess of the News he kept up, as Vox was usually pretty busy

The people adored you, and Vox couldn’t just rid of you

Not that he’d want to- so he kept you

He was very attached to your original model, so you were usually denied when asking for upgrades to your system

Though sometimes, he would give you little things here and there

Switchable hands, Better cameras, cleaner plates, or better wiring

But Vox always refused when you asked for a different model

You would always stay in the same body, and he wasn’t backing out of that

He has a lot of nicknames up his sleeve, and enjoys your reactions when he brings in new ones

“Dearheart, Darling, Sugar, etc”

Overall, he’s probably the best to be owned by

#hazbin hotel vees #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette hazbin hotel #velvette x reader #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino hazbin hotel #valentino x reader

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woso-dreamzzz · 4 months

Text

Head in the Clouds III

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: Your Champions League final

"And, as the players come out, it's only right to talk about the controversy surrounding Barcelona's starting elven. Coach Giráldez has made the choice to field the team's sixteen-year-old star y/n l/n from the start. Bit of an odd choice as she has no previous Champion's League Final experience but Giráldez has said he's confident in her abilities to rise to the task."

Lyon is a tough opponent, you'd been warned about that. You'd been warned that they were physical and technical and had some of the best players in the world.

You knew that.

It still didn't stop you from being absolutely clattered to the ground on several occasions by Renard the moment you got the ball.

It was a bit frustrating actually.

Lyon were tough and, as Irene helps you to your feet, you know she's feeling it too.

The moments of the first half tick down until you leak into injury time. It's frustrating and clearly Renard is working overtime covering you and Aitana which is probably how it all kicked off.

Renard is covering Aitana, blocking her amazingly well while you lurk in the space she's left behind, between Gilles and Carpenter.

You haven't had much space this game so it's nice to be able to breathe with Renard so focused on not letting Aitana take the shot she's clearly winding up to.

The most she manages to get is a chip over the Lyon player, the ball about to land at your feet.

You act on instinct though, not letting it get there.

Your foot stretches out to keep it in the air.

Carpenter and Gilles start moving towards you but it's already too late.

You've twisted to face goal, foot connecting with the ball mid-air and sending it rocketing past Endler.

She didn't even move, your shot taken and executed too quickly for her to realise.

It buries itself in the top right corner and your eyes bug out of your head.

To be honest, you hadn't really realised what you'd done either. It was pure instinct, in the dying seconds of the first half and you'd scored.

Aitana gets to you first, jumping on your back and sending you both tumbling to the floor. Salma and Keira come next, also joining the pile and you tilt your head up to see Caro beaming down on you.

People say Caro doesn't smile a lot and you don't understand why they lie. Caro always smiles at you.

Irene's the one that gets everyone off, pulling you to your feet before kneeling to retie your laces.

"Good girl," She says to you, cupping your cheeks as the Basque flows into your ears," Keep it up, okay?"

Your cheeks bright red, you nod.

The backline just passes the ball between them in the last few seconds of the first half, unwilling to take the risk of Lyon somehow getting the equaliser.

You come off to raucous applause from the fans and immediately try to divert further into the stadium to queue up to get food.

"No," Lucy laughs," The staff already got your fries. No mingling today for you."

You pout a little because sometimes fans in the queue tell funny stories but Lucy's grip on you is firm as she guides you back into the locker room.

Jona is giving a speech but you're aimlessly poking at your bruises and munching on your fries so you don't pay too much attention. If it's important then someone will remind you.

Alexia's the one that walks you back out. She's saying something but you're a bit distracted by how grimy your shorts are from all the times you've been forced to the ground so you only really tune in when she hugs you.

"Okay?"

"Huh? What?"

Alexia laughs, shaking her head fondly. "Nothing. Just go out there and keep showing Lyon who's boss."

You frown. "But Jona's our boss. They know that."

"One goal separates the two sides. A beautiful volley from l/n, assisted by Aitana. There were serious doubts about her ability to play well in a final like this but her technique and drive have been unmatched this entire game. Lyon's defence really need to kick it up a gear because I have a feeling that once she starts, it's hard for her to stop."

Lyon throws more bodies at you in this second half. It's gotten more intense, harder to take your own shots but you create a few big chances for others that Endler manages to brush away.

Renard hovers over you, clearly thinking you're more of a threat than Aitana. That's a little weird because Aitana is the best player in the world and it's strange of Renard to not treat her as the threat she is.

Silly of her because you receive the ball from Patri, skirt around and over Renard's outstretched leg, nutmegging her in the process before sending it off to Aitana to drive into the box and score.

She laughs breathlessly as she celebrates, pointing at you with a smile as the team mobs her. She gets head pats and hugs and you do too.

You don't get that. All you did was pass the ball to her so she could score. You do it all the time in training.

"Two nil up against Lyon with a goal from the best player in the world and an assist by the best youngster in the world. Lyon really needs to step it up. Renard can't mark two of the world's best on her own."

A few minutes before Ona is set to be subbed on, you go down hard.

Bacha slides in on you just before you can send a pass to where Caro is waiting. You topple over, landing on the ground with a thump. She lands on you and you groan, your ribs flaring up like they did against Chelsea.

Lucy pushes Bacha off you and says a few words in French that you don't really understand before she helps you to your feet, checking you over.

"Go take the free kick," She orders," And if someone does that again you have my permission to push them back."

You frown. "Alexia said not to do anything you've given me permission to do."

Lucy rolls her eyes. "Go and take your free kick."

That's when you're back to what you're usually doing.

Scoring goals that weren't meant to be goals.

You're at the halfway line but you've got a strong free kick so your team lines up on the edge of the box to wait for it.

At training, Jona always told you to aim for the taller players.

Irene is currently busy in a little skirmish against Diani so you try to aim for Ingrid.

Only Ingrid gets pushed over in her own skirmish and there's no head to guide the ball in.

Not that you needed it because it rockets into the goal, no matter how far away you are. It's high and bounces off the underside of the top crossbar and over the goal line.

Endler just watches it go, clearly expecting there to be a person you've picked out ready to head it home. It's clear she's planning to block the shot that was never going to come.

The stadium erupts again and this time, Salma gets to you first. She thumps you on the back and you manage your own little laugh.

"I didn't mean to do that," You say and she shakes her head.

"Doesn't matter!" She laughs," Ballon D'or here you come!"

You frown at that. During this entire season, everyone has been talking about you getting a Ballon D'or but nobody's really explained what it is.

You gather it must be a good thing though because Aitana has one and Alexia has two.

At this point, you're a little worried to confess that you don't know what it is so you just smile and nod.

"Her face makes it clear that it wasn't meant to be a shot but no one can fault her during this match! L/n is really unravelling Lyon today. With about half an hour left of this match, it's going to take a miracle to get Lyon back in this game!"

Ada Hegerberg is one of your idols. She's amazing. She's one of the greatest football players you've ever seen. In your eyes, she's up there with Pernille Harder and Vivianne Miedema and Caro.

Last year, when you got offered contracts, you almost went straight to Lyon just because they had her. If there had been two Adas at Lyon then you probably would have chosen them over Barcelona and their offering of Caro.

But there is only one Ada Hegerberg and Barcelona had Alexia and Aitana on top of Caro so that's where you went.

But, still, Ada Hegerberg is one of the greats and you're a little bit star struck as she runs past you onto the pitch.

"No," Irene says to you," We're still playing a match. You can get her autograph later."

You bite you lip. "But-"

"And no going easy on her, okay?" Irene looks sternly at you, one brow raised. It's the same look she gives her son when he's being a little silly. "We've still got a game to play."

You sigh, scuffing the dirt with your boot. "Fine."

When you first saw Ada run on, you didn't expect your first interaction to go like this.

You execute a perfect slide tackle that would make Mapi proud, steal the ball and immediately start sprinting up the other side of the pitch.

You hope she doesn't hold that against you later on because you really want to talk to her and maybe get her shirt or at least a picture with her.

But still, like Irene said, you have a match to play so you dribble around Horan and pass the ball to Patri as you make a run into the box.

That's another thing about you, you think, that Lyon wasn't prepared for. You're fast.

Very fast and Alexia says you have this uncanny ability to find space where you really shouldn't be able to.

You can find space and you can outpace your markers but you're never quite ready for a Patri cross.

She has this habit of crossing much higher than you actually are.

You only have space for so much longer so you try to guide the ball down with your head only it bounces straight onto your skull and you kind of do an odd little jump to beat Renard to it.

It's enough of a bounce to go over Endler, who has come out of her goal to stop you and roll into the goal behind her.

You hear Renard sigh behind you but you're swept away by Patri shaking you firmly by the shoulders as the rest of the team come in to congratulate you.

"It's Patri's goal really," You try to explain," She just used my head to get it in. She deserves all the credit."

As per usual, no one listens to you.

"And a fantastic header from Barcelona's youngster! You have to wonder, if this is how she fares against Lyon, is there any way to truly stop her?"

Alexia gets subbed on in the last few minutes, getting the armband and immediately starts organising everyone the way that she wants.

You've got the ball at your feet but Carpenter is closing in fast and you're running out of room on the pitch.

You cut it back to where you know Alexia is waiting, tracking back as soon as its left your foot.

You don't see the ball go in but you hear the stadium erupt.

Alexia's shirt is off and she's bowing to the crowd as you jog over.

Her arm is over your shoulder and she's jostling you with a laugh.

A kiss lands on the top of your head and you smile up at her.

"You cannot write this! Putellas coming on and within minutes scoring a goal! It's been a long road back from injury for Alexia Putellas and she was set up perfectly by Barcelona's young talent!"

The final whistle comes all too soon and you're left staring at the score in shock, eyes wide as the team celebrates around you.

A smile appears on your face after several minutes of confusion.

You've won.

You've won the Champion's League and completed a hattrick and a brace of assists.

Caro hoists you up onto her back, bouncing you up and down while you shriek and squeal with laughter.

You're passed off to the rest of the team too as the celebrations begin.

Alexia keeps you close though, holding your hand all the way up to the medal ceremony where she pushes you in front of her second last in the line.

Irene grabs you after that, wedging you onto the step below her so she could make sure you didn't fall.

You're not quite sure how to explain how you feel watching Alexia lift the trophy. In fact, you're not quite sure how to explain how you're feeling about any of this.

It's difficult to explain.

Usually, after a game, you're just hungry but all hunger has left you.

Adrenaline still pumps in your system as celebrations rage around you. You're not quite sure what's going on but one of the staff drags you away to get a weird extra trophy that they say is yours and yours alone.

You don't know what to do with it but the staff member says they'll take it back to the locker room for you so you just let them.

That's when Caro appears again. She's still smiling as she takes your shoulders and guides you over to where the Lyon girls are shuffling back inside.

"Ada!" She calls and her national teammate turns around.

"Caro?"

Caro pushes you forward with a little laugh. "You have quite the fan."

Suddenly, shyness floods your body and you look down. "Hi, Mrs Hegerberg."

"You can call me Ada, you know."

"My Mama says you should always greet women professionally when you first meet them," You say, still not looking at her. You're still at a loss for what to say, just like you were when you first met Caro.

"She's a big fan." Thankfully, that same teammate comes to your rescue. "She was very excited to be playing against you."

You nod in confirmation before finally gaining the courage to look up. "If I find a pen, can I have your autograph please?"

"An autograph?" Ada repeats, almost in disbelief.

"I brought my autograph book with me!" You explain," It's in the locker room!"

She laughs and you suddenly feel awful.

You've just beat her. Of course she doesn't want to sign your autograph book.

"Tell you what," Ada says and you brace yourself to be rejected," I'll sign your book if we can swap shirts."

You look at Caro for permission. There's a rule that you aren't allowed to give away your shirt without adult permission. Alexia doesn't like it because sometimes you forget to put the other person's shirt on and wander around the pitch shirtless.

With Caro's permission, you sprint off to get your book and a pen.

Ada signs it and then swaps shirts with you, where Caro reminds you that you have to put on Ada's shirt before joining in on the celebrations again.

That's when Irene takes custody of you. You're still clutching your autograph book, completely star struck by the fact that you have Ada Hegerberg's signature and her shirt.

"Give me that," Irene says, gently taking your book from you," I'll look after it for you."

You nod.

That's probably the best thing. You almost lost it once so it's better Irene has it.

You end up ping-ponging around the rest of the team for the rest of the celebrations until Alexia lets you know you can bring your family down.

Everyone came for you. Your Mama and Papa and your Nana and Grandpappy and Abuela and Abuelo.

Abuelo brings you food still steaming in a container and you scoff it down as soon as you can.

"Can I take some of this home with me?" You ask him," Did you bring more?"

"I did bring more," He replies," I will pack them up before you get on the plane tomorrow."

You grin. "Thank you, Abuelo."

You get a picture with your whole family and the trophy because Ingrid tells you that's something people do when they win and you trust Ingrid.

It's a great photo and you're smiling so wide wearing Ada Hergerbeg's Lyon shirt and a Barcelona flag doubling as a cape.

Your family leaves soon after that but Nana gives you a big hug and reminds you to take a nap before dinner so you agree because Nana is smart and she used to take care of you a lot when you were younger.

Mama and Papa coo over you, saying embarrassing things like 'look at you' and 'we'll put that photo up in the restaurant'.

Then you get put back in Alexia's custody.

She grins at you.

You take a step back.

You're not the most perceptive. People do and say things that seemingly come out of nowhere but you recognise this look as what it is.

Trouble.

You try to dart away but Alexia's got a tight grip and in one smooth movement, you're up on one of her shoulders.

"Ale!" You squeal," Let me down!"

She's laughing though and she's not letting you down at all.

"Take it all in!" She yells up at you," It's all thanks to you!"

#woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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cheriden · 2 months

Text

「 my "i love you" 」 | pt. 2 。。。

He maneuvers to block your path, grip on your arms bordering painful. “I love you–”

“You’re drunk.” You hiss, nails digging into his shoulders as you drag him to the front door. “You don’t even want to hear what I have to say?” Huffing, you gather his things together and shove them to his chest.

── synopsis 。Your best friend with benefits seeks clarity on your relationship

pairing 。switch!top choi beomgyu x f! reader

.ᐟ genre 。angst, smut, fluff

.ᐟ tags 。fwb to lovers, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), overstimulation, arguing, pet names, frotting, a lot of kissing, breeding, idk what else

.ᐟ status & word count 。two-parts | 3.54k

part 1 | part 2

.ᐟ warnings/notes 。not proofread, sorry this took so long. enjoy!

Droplets fall rapidly against your windowsill, thunder clapping when the lightning’s glow hits Beomgyu’s face—highly alluring as his muddy puppy eyes drown in yours so intensely, so vast.

It makes you feel like absolute shit.

Your stomach bubbles over as you wrap your hands around his, retracting them from its hold on your face. It’s heavier without it. He looks at you in concern, confused at your end goal.

He’s patient, oh so patient. It almost makes you seethe with anger at how much he still doesn’t understand. Giving up with a sigh, you look away from him. “Is that any better?”

Beomgyu observes you with knitted brows, trying to come up with a solution and an answer as if it were a math equation. “I don’t,” cutting himself off, he blinks frantically, looking for the right thing to say. “Why are we even here then? You wanted it in the first place!”

You don’t have an answer. The only plausible one would be to tell him that it’s because you love him, how much pain it brings you to continue going on like this with someone who doesn’t feel the same, how sad it leaves you when he walks out the door.

You swear as you pick up and put on the pile of clothes strewn on the floor, frustrated at all of the sudden rush of emotions that make you answer in blunt, meaningless venom. “I was bored and horny months ago. Now I don’t want any of this.” The brunette’s face is laced with hurt, chest huffing and nostrils flaring. “I’m not your personal vibrator. You can’t just boss me around or order me whenever you need me.” Hands reaching to massage your temples, you hiss, “I never asked you to be any of that! You—”

“I’m just a glorified dildo to you. That’s all you ever call me for anyway.” Scoffing, you storm off into the bathroom, washing yourself off the filth on your hands, on your arms. “I’m just a pocket pussy to you!” You scream back, “Don’t think you’re on the losing end here.”

“How lucky of me,” He fires back, stomping into the foyer. “You’re such an asshole. Don’t even text me.” He hurriedly ties his laces, more or less falling over himself as he takes his anger out on the doorknob. “I wasn’t planning to, prick!.” He shoves a middle finger up into your face, one last gesture before he’s slamming the door, sound echoing through the hollow apartment.

The weather doesn’t cease, quite the opposite. Precipitate thuds and crashes heavily, thunder roaring as the lightning halfway blinds you from how close it is. On the ground is Beomgyu’s brown automatic umbrella, still wet from earlier. You palm its button, taking a long breath, unlocking your door.

Looking around, almost everything is shrouded in rain and fog. You hold tightly onto the umbrella, wind howling prior to it nearly knocking you back along with it. You don’t see him, don’t know which direction he went.

You curse at yourself for not knowing, you curse at Beomgyu for leaving. You beat yourself up for being too big of a pussy to actually say something, anything helpful to him.

The umbrella finds itself useless, tears streaming down your face. With drenched clothes and wet slippers, you trudge back into your apartment and overthink yourself to sleep on the couch.

You’re pathetic. Really pathetic. But maybe it’s just the flu making you extra emotional. Sobbing into your blankets, it doubles as a makeshift tissue box—burrowing your red, inflamed nose against it. It’s gross, and you should really go to bed, but your friends said they’d swing by to drop something off at your place; something to make you feel better.

As you answer the door, you take in the irony— the latter phrase couldn’t be more wrong. He’s here, a few inches away from your grasp, but he’s here. He’s drunk and blinking very hard in hopes that he can gain balance, but he’s here.

Beomgyu raises the bag of warm food in a translucent plastic bag, waving it in front of your face. Not really sure what to say anymore, you move away from the door to let him in. He rambles about the empty cupboards and kitchen counters—setting down the insulated tupperwares he brought. A fog of vapor releases into the air when he opens one of them. It’s tempting, and you’re really sick and really tired, not to mention hungry. Regardless, you stand your ground; if staring at him waiting for him to explain counts. He apologizes, says he’s been busy; though you already knew that. He knows you know, knows he’s just filling awkward space. The both of you just wait for each other to say something. A tired drunk versus a tired sick person who’s sort of drunk on cough syrup. “Your umbrella is by the doorframe.” The look on his face says he’s unsure what to make of that. Were you just stating a fact? Did you think it’s what he came for? Or did you want him to leave so badly? His breathing is shaky, anxiety catching up to him as he busies himself with the take-out. “I can buy another one any day,” He lies through his teeth. You know, because he’s treasured it and it’s brown bear print since the day you met. “I heard the others say you were sick, and I came.”

“You stopped your drinking session to come visit me?” It’s earnest curiosity, mixed with a hint of attitude. “I stopped by to check on you, I was worried about you–us.” An eyebrow raises as you watch the other shift stiffly in his seat. “Us?” His gaze backs down, palming the back of his neck. “Yeah, us. We left things on a weird note last time.” Head spinning, you slouch into one of the chairs. “Beoms,” He lights up at the acknowledgement, deflating once he sees the concerned look on your face. “I’m really tired, I think you should leave. I’ll pay you back for the food some other time.”

Without warning, he springs across the table, clutching your face and pressing down hard on your lips. His teeth gnash against your unmoving ones, frantic to get you moving. When you do, it’s a shove to his shoulders, causing him to stumble backwards. “Beomgyu, what the fuck?” The brunette winces at your tone, panicking when you get up to back away from him. “I’m sorry! I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah and eating my face off is part of the plan?” You retort, shaking off the wrist that holds you in place. “I know I’m sorry!” He maneuvers to block your path, grip on your arms bordering painful. “I love you–”

You want to be mad. You want to curse him out for everything he’s unknowingly put you through, but when you see his face, so remorseful and full of hurt and you remember how it’s not even his fault. “Get your shit together. Call me when you're sober and I’m not on cough syrup; so we can both think clearly.” Eager is an understatement, immediately nodding as he drops all his things to drape his arms around you. He hugs as if he’s afraid of how you’d look at him when you part, as if separating from you would be so wrong it was almost inhuman. Still, he detaches himself. “Okay.”

You think you’ve been standing outside his apartment complex for about twenty minutes. Anxiety eats away at your stomach acid, tapping your foot on the ground as you stare at Beomgyu’s last message.

It’s the right place, same structure on maps and easy to find, though maybe you’re trying to come up with a reason not to push through with this. You didn’t even know he transferred buildings, taken by surprise at the random notification that pinged your phone at three in the morning. After viewing it, the confrontation with him plagued your mind, scenarios running wildly in your head as you overthink every possible outcome.

A shy smile graces Beomgyu’s face when he lets you in, easing the apprehension a little. The area is cluttered with all types of trinkets and memorabilia from him and his roommates, though you can see how his stands out to you the most. There’s a cute wall full of photo strips from all of his friends, though none containing you had caught your eye. The unease makes its way back to you, gulping down as he guides you across the studio, passing the living area and miscellaneous doors. “I’ll get you something to drink. You can just sit on the bed–or on the floor, or–it doesn’t really matter.” With that he leaves, and you’re greeted by a plethora of mixed ornaments: A few instruments lazily strewn against the walls and racks, study desk devoid of any actual study material—replaced by a new curved flatscreen for his desktop, posters for different genres of music and fiction neatly arranged on one wall.

You stop to inspect the cork board behind the monitor; a few photos of the two of you taped and pinned along with random receipts and to-do lists. Your heart sinks a little, recalling the abrupt confession from nearly a week ago. You know what he said, but it’s best not to get your hopes up, you’re his closest friend after all. Beomgyu kicks the door open with mild force, startling you. He huffs out a chuckle, “I don’t actually have anything, so I just got us water.” With a nod, you flump onto the edge of the bed, twiddling your thumbs. For a while, the two of you just sit there, staring at each other. Your eyes bare into his, cheeks flaring up as collateral as he blurts out, “I meant it. Everything I said the other night.” You set the glass slowly onto the nightstand, shifting up the bed. The brunette mimics your actions, making sure you don’t run away or divert away from him. “I think you’re confused, Gyu.” His lids shut in frustration, gnawing back a portion of his cheeks. “No you don’t–” You cut him off, rambling. “It’s my fault, ever since I asked you to sleep with me we’ve been blurring the lines a bit too far.”

He charges at you, palm clasped over your face. “You’re not listening to me.” Through muffled protests, you exclaim, “But–” Another hand pushes you against the headboard, “You never listen to me. All you do is make assumptions about how I feel and how it’s affecting me when you don’t even let me speak for myself. I told you I love you and you shut me up, like you’re telling me how I feel.” The weight of his body nearly crushes you, eyes sealed as you feel the comforting pressure numbing your nerves. “I know how I fucking feel. I’ve never been so sure of anything—ever. So no, I’m not going to let you bitch about how things should be going between us without my decision.” He bites down on the plump of his lips, trying to find the words to say. “You don’t give a shit about me, and I let it slide because I’m so desperate for anything you do. I run miles the minute you text me to come over, or did you not even know I moved?” Shying away in guilt has him laughing madly, tugging the ends of his own hair. “See? You only think about yourself like the selfish prick you are. Everything is always about you.”

His laughter dies down, liquid drops cascading onto your shirt. “Do I really mean that little to you? What else do you want from me?” Your words are lost in between the silence and the steady sniffling, gazing up slowly to meet his own. What else can you say? What do you want? How blind could you have been to ignore Beomgyu, your best friend over everything else?

So you don’t say anything.

You lean forward, prolonged eye contact undisturbed as your breath fans his lips. It’s agonizing, how slow you both are—if any of you are moving at all. His lips brush against yours, sighing into you—it’s as sweet as nectarine. He takes you in like he’s never eaten anything better, yet restraining himself from hasty gestures, savoring every turn of your tongue and groove of your mouth. Your body slants against his, shifting upwards as he wraps your legs around his, hands on the meat of your thighs. His body stutters, reluctantly pulling away. “Let’s… We should stop now. Before one of us gets hurt.”

Your face softens, taking his hands in yours and peppering his fingers with delicate pecks. “I would never dream of hurting you, baby.” He melts onto your shoulders, burying himself in your collarbone. “I don’t want things to stay as they are.” He comments as you kiss the side of his head, stroking his hair as your other hand thumbs over his knuckles. “I don’t want things to stay as they are either.”

He jumps up at the revelation, breathing unrhythmically. “And if it ruins our friendship?” You kiss the knot off the brows on his forehead, planting them on spots of visible tension strewn across his face. “Then we’d still be lovers, no?” Your words have Beomgyu in a trance, and he thinks he’s lucid dreaming. “Lovers?” You hum in agreement, tucking the stray strands of brown behind his ear. “Do you not want that?”

“Of course!” He blurts, clearing his throat in embarrassment. “I mean, of course I do. With you. Only you.”

“Only me?” You tease, but he takes it at face value, pleading. “Only you. Forever.”

“That’s cheesy.” He scoffs, pushing you down on his bed. “Shut up, you want me.”

“I do. Only you.” To that he grins, giggly and innocent as if he wasn’t grinding his knee into your cunt. “I wanna taste you.” You hoist his chin up, stopping him from going down on you. “Baby,” You coo, “you’re so cute. But I think I owe you head today.” Lips parting, he wastes no time ridding himself of his sweats. “And for the last million times.” He retorts in a half joke. “I know, I’m so sorry.” Pouting for sympathy, you rub your cheek against his underwear. “I’ll make sure to make up for all of it.” He stifles a moan, hips moving at nothing. “My needy prince.” Disregarding your teasing, he focuses on the movements of your fingers, skilled and articulated as they work his cock. “That’s gonna take forever.” He replies, earning a shrug from you. “We have the time.”

You trace the shape of its head, licking and kissing it until you stop at his balls, repeating over and over again until he tells you to stop. With a deep breath, you take as much of him as you can, hitting the back of your throat as he screams. All the sounds you’re making go straight to his dick, Forearms covering his eyes. You reach to swat them away, forcing his eyes on you—you do the same. He whimpers when you hump the mattress below him, slick staining the sheets. His hands intertwine with yours, staring straight at the sight as he bucks into your mouth.

“‘M sorry, so weak.” He’s gasping for air, palms flat on the back of your head, shoving you down his length. “Can’t control it–need your mouth.” Your cunt throbs with every grunt he makes, nose hitting his skin. His noises get louder, pitch raising. “No–stop—” But you don’t listen, hands on his ass while he pushes your face off him. He wants to see you, see you blissed-out painted in his seed when he comes. You don’t let him, swallowing around his dick as you take every pump of cum that flows into your mouth. He falls over your shoulder gasping, grabbing your head to meet his with a kiss. “You’re so mean, I thought today was about me?” You hum, crawling back up the headboard and discarding the rest of your clothing. “So you didn’t like it? ‘Cause I can—”

He cuts you off immediately, shaking his head fervently. “No! I just wanna see your face.”

“Aw, did my baby miss me that much?” You coo, “It was only a week.” With a huff, he lines his member and rubs it against your wet pussy. “A week too long.” Laughing, you caress his cheek, fingers kissed by him. “We’ll do it as much and as long as you like.” He ruts harder against you, moans filling up the room. “You’ll be the death of me.”

You snarl, impatient. “Stop talking and fuck me already.”

He only slides the tip in you, smirk growing as he watches you writhe for friction.

Beomgyu watches the crease in your brows, the quiver of your lips, the restlessness of your arms. He kisses every feature of you he can, filing the memories away. “I love you.”

You're barely able to mumble it back as he bottoms out, a resounding thud sounding from the base of his dick and onto your ass. “God, you feel so fucking good.” He rolls his hips slow and deep, eyes trained on you—watching your mouth fall open and close. You don’t make any noise, but he’s here to change that. Pressing down on your stomach, he feels the outline of his cock as it moves in and out, the bulge so visible you shut your eyes closed in embarrassment. You gasp when he bends down to kiss you again, hold on your chin steady as he directs it to the view that connects the two of you. After a few seconds, he pulls your face to meet his. “You’re gonna watch me. And I wanna hear all the pretty sounds you make.” Without warning, he pummels into you, your back arching off the sheets and drool pours from your mouth when he hooks his thumb into it. “B–Beomgyu—”

“Mine…All mine now—gonna ruin you for anyone else.” You whine and thrash underneath him, fingernails digging into his arms as he plays with the nub of your clit. “Nobody else’s, only yours.” He chuckles, “That’s right, love. Where do you want it?” You can barely string words together, fucked out beyond belief as his thrusts get harder, loosing rhythm. “Inside!” His cock pulses at your words, slowing down to stop himself from coming.

“You want it inside? Want me to breed you full of cum?” He says in a low voice, hands roaming your body while licking at your tits.

You’re so animated, every part of your body moving against his for relief, holding back a moan when your hole clenched around him. “Filthy… But you’re my baby, and I love you so, so much. Of course I’ll give you what you want.” He picks up the pace, hips pounding into you relentlessly—the sound of skin slapping mixed with the smell of sex is as suffocating as it is intoxicating.

You’re loud and screaming a slurry of words you aren’t even sure make sense, cock-drunk as he fucks you through your first orgasm. It’s not long before a second one barrels through you, walls clenching tighter as he spills his own seed inside, milky white and full as he makes you ride out both your highs.

Your cum mixes as it pools around your ass and the base of his dick. He litters your face and body with kisses, stopping at your lips to devour it hungrily. It’s all drool, hot gasps of air shared when you disconnect with a line of spit.

He doesn’t pull out, staring at the sight for a few seconds before carefully settling at the space next to you, making sure not a single drop leaks out.

“Just to be clear, we’re dating now right?” “Yes, you idiot. Did you not hear anything I said? Did you ignore the part where I agreed to you breeding me?” His face flushes, hiding himself between the junction of your neck and shoulder. “Just making sure.” Beomgyu snakes his arm on top of your waist, draping a leg onto it and sighing, content.

“….So nobody else, right?” You groan, turning your head to face him. It’s hard, and you wince at the position change when his dick prods around inside you, cum leaking onto the sheets. “Nobody else.” You reply, resting your head back against his chest. “Only you.”

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