#projecting onto x reader: free

[impuls1veworm]

In a curse-free world who do you guys think is the most toxic and why do you think it’s Getou?

[churipu]

YOU SLEEPING ON A COUCH AFTER AN ARGUMENT 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro x reader

note. i hv so many ideas right now apart from what i'm actually supposed to be focusing on, so...pls excuse me.

GOJO SATORU. arguments with gojo are a pain in the ass, he's petty and everything will be a mess. he's so stubborn that it actually baffles you sometimes — and he calls you rock head?

being a sorcerer is never an easy job. gojo wakes up every day, not knowing whether he'd die in a mission or get to live another day. so when you brought up your concerns about it to him, the male didn't take it lightly. things have been tight for him, and you're walking on eggshells for the past few days.

the slightest thing angered him, like how his sleeve got stuck on the door handle, or the way he curses out loudly when he stubs his toe on the coffee table. it puts him in a shitty mood, so when that happens, and you try to talk to him about his job.

gojo gets very pissy about it.

frankly, you understood where his anger comes from. and it was part of your fault to bother him the moment he came back from work exhausted, it was bound to happen so you weren't really blaming him at all from the projecting of his anger to you the night before — he didn't say hurtful things, gojo knew better than that. all he did was tell you to leave him alone and get out of his sight for the night.

and you did. sleeping alone on the couch, all sprawled out, an arm dangling on the edge; while a string of drool dribbled down the corner of your lips.

you seemed to not mind having to sleep on the couch (under your own want). but your boyfriend did, the moment he knew your bed time strikes — he came out of the room and eyed your sleeping form. guilt washing over him when all you did was care about his being and how dangerous the jujutsu world is.

gojo approaches you and gently carried you in his arms, an arm right under your bottom and his other arm around your waist. hoisting you up like a baby as your cheek leaned onto his shoulder, letting the drool blotch his shirt. he doesn't care at all.

the male tucks you in the bed, pulling the covers over you before slipping next to you, chest pressed to your back and an arm resting on your hip. gojo will never let you sleep a whole night on the couch, he will bring you to sleep with him and apologize the very next day for being such an ass.

he also, tried to make it up to you by cooking a classic english breakfast. which ended up in chaos — and you both decided to order take out instead.

GETO SUGURU. geto is usually calm and collected; he doesn't really get angry at anything. even if he does, he mostly keeps it to himself unless it really bothers him. but since humans have certain capacities to their own emotion — geto is not spared from being angry, no matter how calm he is.

after the death of amanai, you could feel him change. your geto. it was traumatizing for him, and you understood. always being there for him, never leaving him alone. the dark circles under his eyes were apparent, and it looked like he hasn't had a good night sleep for what seemed like . . . weeks, or months, if that's even possible.

geto appreciated your company, really. but sometimes, he also wanted to be left alone to dwell on his feelings. he didn't want to end up saying hurtful things to you because he was so angry at himself. but he did, and god was it horrible.

he was already feeling like shit before the argument— which if you see, wasn't really an argument at all. it was one-sided, geto was telling you off and you didn't say anything back. because you knew he didn't mean it. he almost desperately begged for you to leave him alone because your presence was "annoying" him and he couldn't stand it.

although geto said it in a heap of moment. he didn't mean it, and before he could say anything else, you tell him that you were going to be sleeping on the couch, so if he needed anything he was free to come to you.

geto didn't stop you. he was busy hating on himself for telling you that — and believe me when i say that he, right there, almost cried out of frustration.

he tossed and turned on his bed. where you were usually on too, beside him, holding his hand whilst he sleep. your hushed voice lulling him into a peaceful slumber; but you weren't there today, all because he told you to leave him alone. geto sat up, his eyelids heavy, but no matter how long he shut is, they always open back up.

with slow and heavy steps, he approaches you on the couch. and geto had always knew that you were a light sleeper, so his footsteps awoken you. seeing your eyes flutter open, geto slid on the couch, laying himself on top of you — head on your chest, arms clutching onto your shirt like he's desperate for your presence, and his legs intertwining with yours.

getos' hushed apologies were heard as he leaned into your warmth, and you told him that you were never angry. brushing his hair, massaging his scalp using your fingertips before lulling him to sleep, and geto did. almost immediately. and so did you.

he could never sleep without you. whether it being on the bed, the couch, or anywhere else — as long has you were with him, he will find the ability to drift off.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. is an ass. let's face it — he wouldn't give a fuck if you decided to sleep on the couch after an argument, at least for the first couple of hours. toji is a blunt man, and he's a sole believer that nobody could bear sleeping on the couch when there's a bed in the house.

but you were there to prove him wrong.

after an argument going south, he finds you grabbing your pillow and then seeking shelter on the couch. and he clicked his tongue in annoyance, knowing you'd come crawling back on the mattress after a few hours — because who'd choose the couch over the bed?

you. apparently.

he slept without a single care, thinking of words to say when you finally decided to come back on the bed. but when he woke up at three am, his arm searching to find your body, but realizing all he was catching was air — he finally realized that you weren't coming back onto the bed.

and it annoyed him. he was angry that you weren't there. and at three am? he was already wide awake, walking out of the room angrily. but his gaze softened when he saw you asleep, the constant flashing light from the television panning on your body; toji walks over, snatches the remote and turns the device off.

letting out a soft sigh, toji squats down, flicking your forehead. and the action was enough to make you grimace lightly in your sleep — although not enough to wake you up completely. the male chuckled and prepped an arm under the hollow under your knees, and an arm across your shoulder.

with ease he brought you into your shared room and he laid you down on the bed, covering your body with the blanket before he slips into his own portion of the bed. scooting closer to you as you instinctively nuzzled into his chest, seeking for comfort.

toji wouldn't admit that he was the one who brought you into the bed and would end up saying how you came crawling back at three am. you always find out the truth though, and toji tells you to forget about whatever he did because he won't be doing it again (he will).

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[ttsukiimi]

───〃★ WE F⍣CK OFF & ON, OFF & ON .ᐟ

〃★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⎯ As the campus’s well known f⍣ckboy, Satoru Gojo wasn’t known to stick around for more than one night in one bed. Well, that unspoken rule just didn’t apply when the bed was yours.

〃★ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ gojo x fem!reader, uni au, smut (mdni), protected s⍣x, f⍣ckboy!gojo, hair pulling, p⍣ssywhipped!gojo, mentions of alc⍣hol & bein’ drunk, dirty talk, slight dumbification.

〃★ 𝐚/𝐧 ⎯ Thank you so freaking much for 1.5K!!! 🥹

Absolutely unbearable.

If there was any way to describe the campus fuckboy, it’d be that.

He was known—infamous for his unique way of fucking women and somehow leaving them attached, yearning for him once more after just one night, while he only left unscathed with his balls empty.

Satoru Gojo was insatiable. And you hated him.

You failed to see what everyone saw in him—he was a total idiot for fucks sake! Granted, he had a pretty face and could be quite charming, and you really couldn’t say for yourself if he was that good in bed, but good things about him paled in comparison to his horrid personality. He knew how attractive he was, and used that any chance he got.

How did he manage to talk his way into and out of anything? You simply didn’t know. But you hated him.

That was…until you yourself finally had a taste of Satoru Gojo.

Drunk at a party and so utterly wasted, you’d failed to acknowledge who was hitting on you, who you got into the taxi with to drive back to who knows where. His hands all over you—so rough yet inviting, even after the alcohol in your system had gone you still found yourself pulled into a trance.

A trance that seemingly pushed you to his bed and under him. Seemingly had you moaning his name all night and for more to come.

And seemingly, now, opening the door to your apartment so he could come in. So he could come in and fuck you like he’s been doing for the past months. Well, that’s just what he thought would happen anyway.

“Satoru,” you huffed, watching as the tall freak plopped himself onto your couch, momentarily jerking his head back before he responded with a hum.

“Can you stop acting like a fool and try not to break anything for once?” You chastised, pointing to a hand of his already playing with the flowers in your prized vase—he hadn’t given you those and had no right to taint them.

The white haired man groaned, rolling his eyes and following you down the narrow hallway to your bedroom. Your steps halted at the doorway and so did his, a low snicker leaving his lips as his hands slid to your waist.

“So,” he sighed in your ear, brushing his soft lips past the skin of your neck, big hands squeezing the flesh of your ass as he snaked them down. “Y’just gonna keep on being grumpy or you gonna let me fuck?”

“Satoru,” you exasperated for what seemed like the umpteenth time, though you didn’t dare take his hands off your body, already surrendering to the feeling. “Just because we’ve been fucking doesn’t mean that I only invite you here because of that.”

You turned around to face him. “We have a project to do, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll start after I start.”

And what was Satoru’s definition of that?

It was pushing your head further down into your pillows as he absolutely ravished your cunt, simultaneously holding both your hands back with just one of his.

His thrusts were deep and calculated—to the point where it felt like he knew where every pleasurable spot inside you was. Perhaps he did.

“Dick’s got you all quiet now, hm?” he smirks, sliding his free hand up your back and to your head, pulling your hair back as he speaks. By then you were a drooling mess and as much as you’d hate to admit it—you’re practically dumb on his cock, moaning incoherent little babbles of his name and how big he feels.

Satoru grins behind you, smug because he’s got you, the most prim and proper girl on campus choking on her own saliva. It all felt so surreal, you felt surreal—your soft hips, the succulent ripple of your ass as his hips connected to it, your moans—fuck everything you did was driving him crazy. Even though it was supposed to be the other way around.

He was the one who was supposed to be ingrained in your brain—but here he was, inches deep inside your wet, reeling pussy after he swore the last time he was in your apartment would be the last.

But there’s always a reoccurring cycle with you. He just can’t stop.

“Hah—mph—slow down, S’toru!” you mewl, fat tears swelling in your waterline, your ears perking up at the rhythmic plap! plap! plap! of your sweaty bodies colliding. “If ‘m too loud my neighbors might hear,”

“Yeah? Let them hear how good I’m makin’ you feel then,” he breathes, shallow and unsteady, his toned chest moving in tandem with his inhales. The deep tremble of his voice seems to move throughout your body, vibrating through you in such a maddening way that you’re almost cumming from the feeling alone.

What was even more provoking was the way he pulsed against your gummy walls, thumping and pulsing inside you loud enough that it seemed you could hear it.

And—god was Satoru close, so close he could feel the static of his high zap though his fingers. He groaned, head thrown back in bliss as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he did so deliciously.

Your head was spinning from the mind-dizzying pleasure, eyes rolling back in what Satoru can only admit is the most remarkable expression he’s gotten out of anyone he’s fucked.

His hair was sticking to his forehead now, sweaty from how fast he was working to thrust into you at his abnormal pace. “Can I—“

“No.”

A defeated sigh and a pained grunt as he pulled out just as he was about to teeter off the edge of pleasure, taking himself in his hands and finishing the job. Satoru jerked himself as he watched you shake and convulse in euphoria, your body unwinding as you let your limbs go limp.

Cum seeped from your pussy, dripping down to your clit and sheets—and that sight was all he needed before his hot seed was spurting all over your back, the sensation causing a broken cry to leave your lips.

“Fuck,” Satoru mouthed, breathing hard as he gave your ass little smacks of approval. “That was—shit—so good.”

You nodded, head turning to the side as you watched him take off his cum-filled condom, and dump it in the trash. Satoru plopped back on your bed once he was done.

A smirk graced his lips and you rolled your eyes in annoyance, knowing nothing good could come out of that look.

“When do you think we could do it raw, hm?”

“When you get tested for every type of STD.”

[pathologicalreid]

Okay before i say my request can i be your 🐚 anon ??? that's all i ask in terms of that BUT:

hear me out- so spencer reid x bau!fem!sunshine!reader gets kidnapped outside of work and her kidnapper tortures her and the works, but the worst part is he has a live feed directed for the bau so they just have to watch the poor girl get borderline killed but she's still fighting back and so eventually he turns the feed off and they go to the unsub once they find his location but before they burst the door down they hear the reader like genuinely begging for him to just kill her and it's GUT WRENCHING. then they get him and she free and she's immediately back to her bubbly self until randomly she like shows up at his door and spence tells her it's okay to not be okay and she just breaks down RAGHHHH

i'm so sorry for writing you an essay but I got the idea and simply couldn't let it go to waste 😭

-🐚 (i hope if that's okay with you???)

epiphany | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst; re: hurt/comfort content warnings: bau!reader, sunshine!reader, kidnapping, violence against reader, reader begging for it to be over, gun violence, general cm violence, exhaustion, hospitals, poor coping mechanisms and unhelpful therapists. word count: 2.92k a/n: of course you can be my 🐚 anon! this is a story in four parts, before, during, after, and epiphany! i hope you enjoy it <3 thank you SO much for requesting!

epiphany - a moment of sudden revelation or insight.

before

The horrified look on Garcia’s face couldn’t possibly be a good sign, “Uh, sir,” she addressed Hotch, “I’m being sent an encrypted link from an admin on the UnSub’s site.”

Responding with a stiff nod, Hotch looked toward the screen in the roundtable room, “Open it.”

Each team member had an instant reaction to the image projected onto the large screen. JJ had covered her mouth with her hands, Morgan had to peel his eyes away from the screen, and Spencer couldn’t get himself to do the same thing. Despite his better judgment, he kept his eyes on the screen.

“He’s killing her,” Emily observed, watching with a horrified expression as the UnSub hand his hands around your throat. You were dangling from the ceiling by your bound hands, leaving you flailing as your body begged for air.

Hotch leaned intensely over Garcia’s shoulder, “Is this live?” He asked, voice raising ever so slightly as he watched the tech analyst’s fingers work nimbly across her keyboard. As she nodded, he continued, “Can you find where he’s streaming this from?”

Parting her lips, a determined look settled on the blonde’s face as she continued to type, “It looks like he’s running it through a boatload of different proxies – it’s gonna take me a minute.”

Rossi shook his head, leaning over the roundtable, “She might not have that long.” It was the truth, a harsh truth, but the truth, nonetheless.

It had been one minute and thirty-seven seconds already, brain death would occur after four minutes, maybe five if you were lucky. Spencer didn’t want to have to take that chance. “Oh god,” Penelope cried, working through the tears that had started to stream down her face, “Okay, she’s in this general area.”

“Keep going,” Hotch ordered succinctly. “Everyone else, look at the picture. Is anything recognizable about the background?”

The lighting was dim at best, which didn’t leave the team with a lot to work with while they studied your surroundings. At one point, your attacker shouted, and Spencer’s attention moved back to you.

In the midst of your struggle, you had managed to strike him between the legs, sending him stumbling away from you, shouting expletives as space was put between the two of you. The BAU took a collective breath as they listened to you breathe, spluttering as the UnSub regained his composure. “Do you see that? The ridges in the wall?” Derek said, using his index finger to point to what he was talking about.

“It looks like a storage container,” Emily replied, furrowing her brows as she comprehended what Morgan was talking about.

Wholly focused on you, Spencer watched as the UnSub got in your face, screaming horrible words at you until you spit in his face. He swung at you, causing your face to turn with a nauseating smack until your head lolled forward and you stopped moving.

Still typing, Penelope spoke up, “Got it! Sending the address to your phones now.”

during

There was a maze of storage containers at the port, and so far, you had turned up in none of them. “Shh, wait,” Emily hissed, “Do you guys hear that?” She asked, looking over each of her shoulders, ears perked up like a bloodhound.

Straining his ears, Spencer straightened up, lowering his firearm as he focused on listening to the world around him, waiting for whatever Emily was talking about.

“Just fucking do it!” Your voice reverberated off of the surface of the numerous shipping containers. Spencer found himself torn as he knew you were alive but recognized the fear and anger in your voice. The pain as you screamed nearly stopped him in his tracks, but he found himself trudging forward.

Following closely behind Morgan, they stopped for a moment, trying to determine which direction you would be found in. Your shouts rang out into the pitch black of the night, “Stop being a coward and pull the fucking trigger!”

His steps faltered, leaving JJ stumbling into his back. “Reid,” she whispered, prompting him to shake himself out of his surprised state and continue moving. You didn’t know what you were saying, he tried to convince himself.

You couldn’t see the camera the same way he had seen it so many years ago, kidnapped and drugged against his will and hoping the team would understand the clues disguised as conversation. He had been taken from an UnSub’s property, and your apartment had been broken into – the only thing taken had been you.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar fear in the BAU, worrying about an UnSub breaking into your home, but you weren’t targeted because of your work in the bureau. You had been targeted because you fit the victim pattern.

If he never had to see the word “missing” under your face again, it would be too soon.

“Please,” you begged. “Please just kill me. Just let me die. I don’t want to do it anymore,” your voice started to grow quieter, but the team could still hear you – they were getting closer.

Emily and Morgan went to one side of the doors, leaving Spencer and JJ on the other side – Rossi and Hotch were elsewhere on the property, waiting with first responders and calling the shots via comms.

A small whimper came from the container at the same time as the click of a gun cocking. “Just pull it,” you pleaded weakly. “It’ll be so easy for you. It’ll be so much easier with me dead,” you informed him despondently.

“FBI!” Morgan called out, pulling the heavy metal doors of the container open, revealing the four FBI agents with their vests on, guns raised.

Just like it had happened in an action film, Spencer watched as the UnSub moved his hand to the trigger of his weapon. Your eyes were closed, tears streaming through the dirt that was caked on your face. Without a second thought, Spencer pulled the trigger on his firearm, sending a bullet through the UnSub’s temple before he could have the chance to kill you.

Emily went over to the body, gingerly picking up the weapon and disengaging it while looking over to you. Spencer was knelt in front of you, debating whether or not he should touch you before he decided on speaking to you first, “Y/N?” His voice was no more than a whisper as he expected your eyes to open, but they didn’t.

“His pocket,” you rasped, your traumatized vocal cords straining on every word.

Spencer hummed, “What about them, love?” He kept his voice gentle, watching you as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Sniffling, you hung your head low, “Keys,” you mumbled helplessly, unable to speak more than you already were, each word only drained you of energy you didn’t have in the first place.

Understanding, JJ crouched next to the stiff body of the UnSub and fished a keyring out of his pants pocket, handing them to Spencer.

With shaky hands, the third key unlocked the handcuffs around your wrists, and your body slumped forward, practically falling into Spencer as he tenderly wrapped his arms around your torso, “I’ve got you,” he reassured you.

It wasn’t until you were sat in the back of an ambulance that anyone got a good look at you. There was a fine layer of grime coating your skin, causing it to look at least one shade darker than it normally was, but what concerned Spencer the most was the petechiae of your eyes. The burst blood vessels were a direct result of his hands around your throat.

The paramedics looked over you despite your protests. It was non-negotiable, and that instruction came from Hotch. The strangest part of it was that you were continuously trying to wave off concern, insisting you were fine, kicking your legs off the edge of the rig while the female paramedic looked at the bruising on your cheek. “It might be a fractured ZMA, she’ll need a CT to confirm,” she continued to list even more ailments, including potential internal bleeding and extensive damage to your throat. The swelling in your neck was beginning to catch up with you, affecting your ability to talk.

Spencer rode with you in the ambulance, holding your hand while you told him, “I knew you’d find me. I never gave up.”

I don’t want to do it anymore, your pleas for the UnSub to end your life rang in his head, he’d never forget hearing you say that, and you didn’t even know he heard you.

He didn’t have any good answers for anyone while you were getting a CT. By the time you returned from surgery to repair your fractured cheekbone, he shut the door to your room, sequestering the two of you into your own little world.

The bruising around your neck had already begun to darken, and by this time tomorrow, your throat would likely be a sickening reflection of what had happened to you. Your doctor had elected to leave you intubated because they were afraid of the swelling affecting your ability to breathe.

There was nothing for him to do, nothing except sit at your bedside and hold your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb across your bloodied knuckles.

after

You were skipping - well, maybe the step pattern wasn’t technically a skip.

Spencer watched as you waltzed into the bullpen with far too much pep in your step. “I didn’t know you were coming back today,” Morgan said, being the first to greet you once you passed through the glass doors.

Waving a hand in the air, you shrugged, “I have to pass a final psych eval with Hotch, but then I’m all set to be back next week.” You were grinning as you embraced your friend, but over your shoulder, Derek sent Spencer an inquiring look. Asking a silent question that Spencer himself didn’t even know the answer to.

What was going on with you? Four weeks ago, you had been struggling to stand after being beaten within an inch of your life, and ever since, you had been nothing but smiles.

Before you could settle into the hug, you pulled away, placing your hands on Derek’s shoulders, and holding him at arm’s length. Approximately the same distance you had kept Spencer at for the past month.

As you passed behind Spencer’s desk, you left a featherlight touch on the top of his head before continuing your way up to Hotch’s office, smiling as you passed the roundtable room. The same room where the team had watched your torture as it was live-streamed to them.

“Is she..?” Emily started to ask the question on everyone’s minds, but the major issue was that no one quite knew what the question was. Had you finally cracked? Were you okay? He wasn’t sure, and it was starting to eat at him.

The only thing they could do was watch as you greeted Hotch with a chirp, entering his office and firmly closing the door behind you.

epiphany

The knock on his door was the first thing to pull his attention away from his book since he got home from Quantico. Looking down at the inside of his wrist, he frowned at the time – just past midnight.

Still, he peeled himself up off of the couch before making his way to the front door, peering out of the peephole just to see you on the other side.

Slowly, Spencer set the book on his entryway table and undid the lock and deadbolt to his apartment, swinging the heavy wooden door open to reveal his girlfriend. You were donning flannel pajama pants, not unlike the ones he had on, and an old college t-shirt. There was a crumpled-up piece of paper in your hand, but he couldn’t make out any of the words on it.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, the question slipping easily off his tongue. He didn’t wait for the answer, ushering you inside his apartment and toward the couch. He redid the locks on the front door before joining you on the supple leather.

You furrowed your brows, staring at the piece of paper in your lap, “I failed.”

Leaning over your shoulder curiously, Spencer looked at the piece of paper, quickly recognizing it as your psychological evaluation. He read over what he could see, noting the words “deflection” and “coping mechanism.”

“You haven’t been sleeping,” he observed aloud. You must’ve been wearing makeup this morning when you came to the BAU because now he could see the clearly defined dark circles under your eyes. He hadn’t seen you much over the past month, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. Spencer had spent many days sitting outside of your apartment, waiting for you to let him in. He didn’t dare use his spare key, it felt like an invasion of your privacy.

Turning to meet his eyes, you shrugged helplessly, “I haven’t been tired. I mean – I’m… I’m fine.”

Nodding gently, “That’s a deflection. You’re telling me that you’re fine when I can clearly see that you aren’t.”

Your lips parted in apprehension while he read you like an open book. “I’m exhausted,” you admitted, tearing little pieces off of your evaluation form as you grew anxious. “I get into bed, and I can’t sleep, I can’t convince myself to close my eyes,” you elaborated, watching as Spencer reached out and took the paper from you, setting it on the coffee table.

“Have you talked to anyone?” Spencer asked, tentatively taking your hand in his.

Humming, you leaned back on the couch cushions, “Like my mandated FBI therapist? No, I don’t really talk to him much. I’ve started pretending we’re having a staring contest. I usually win, but that’s probably because he has no idea that we’re playing.”

Raising his eyebrows, Spencer inclined his head toward you, “You’re doing it again.”

You clamped your lips shut, shifting on the couch so that you could withdraw your hand from his and sit on your hands. “I don’t do this very well, huh? Talking about the bad stuff,” you murmured to Spencer, looking over at him. “I hate the bad stuff,” you informed him.

“But we have to talk about it eventually, sweetheart. You can’t keep all of that inside,” he told you, moving over on the couch, closer to where you were seated.

Shaking your head, you pulled your knees up to your chest, and Spencer recognized that you were trying to make yourself seem as small as possible. The UnSub had made you feel small – another reason that Spencer had to hate him. “I wish I was her again,” you whispered, a tinge of fear entering your voice.

“You want to be who again?”

Looking over at Spencer, you sighed, “The me that I was before. I want to feel good and happy and perfect and free,” you spoke earnestly.  

He gave you an understanding smile, pulling at your hands so that he could hold them in his own, “Nobody expects you to be perfect right now.”

You closed your eyes, “but I want to be her again.” Small tears started to stream down your cheeks while you mourned the previous version of yourself.

“I know,” Spencer reassured you. “I know you do, but if you can’t quite get to her, I’ll still be here for the you that you are now,” he said, welcoming you with open arms as you began to lean into him. “It wouldn’t have been easier,” he murmured into your hair.

Humming, you grew content in Spencer’s arms, the only place he had wanted you over the past month. “What wouldn’t have been easier?”

Ever so slightly, Spencer tightened his grip around you, “If you had died. It wouldn’t have been easier for anyone. I know it felt like that at the time-“

“You heard that?” You asked, horrified at the thought of Spencer and everyone else hearing what you had thought were your last words.

Nodding, Spencer hummed a confirmation. “I can’t stop thinking about it, and I just needed to tell you that I understand. I don’t want you to feel guilty about what you said, and I don’t want you to feel like you need to regret it. You needed a way out, and that was the one you saw,” he told you.

You were silent for an eerie amount of time, without being able to see your face, Spencer was afraid that he had misread the entire situation. “Thank you,” you whispered, straightening up and looking over at him, bleary eyes meeting his. “I’m just… thank you,” you whispered reaching out for him, embracing him as your tears sept through the fabric of his t-shirt.

The both of you stayed like that for a while, your body was tucked into his side as his fingers lazily trailed up and down your back. “Did you want to try to get some sleep?”

You lifted your head, resting your chin on his chest, “Can I stay here?”

Frowning, Spencer cocked his head to the side, “Yes, isn’t that what I just asked?” Maybe it was more of an implication, but he felt it was fairly straightforward.

“I mean, can I stay here for a while? Maybe for a couple of days?” You asked, pressing your lips together nervously.

Moving his head forward, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “You can stay here for as long as you want to.”

[forbidden-sunlight]

yandere!ceo with villainess!reader scenario [part two]

warnings: implied infidelity, implication of obsessive thoughts or love, workplace toxicity, non consensual surveillance.

There might be potential triggers in this piece. If you do not feel comfortable with reading it, please hit the 'back' button on your phone or laptop and find something much more pleasant to read than a potential series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your Internet consumption.

Reblog to support content creators! ❤️

Hey guys, and welcome to part two of my new original yandere oc x series, featuring the good-looking prick and CEO of his family's conglomerate, Yeo Jung-Hwa.

This is a collaboration between me and the incredibly talented @deathmetalunicorn1. Special thanks to @pinkgoldweebgirl for their honest feedback on the earlier drafts of this project and @impeakcharacterdesign for being my beta-reader for the final draft.

I definitely was not expecting such positive feedback on the first part in less than a week, so thank you all for reblogging, liking, and commenting your thoughts on it, they really made some of my more stressful days in the medical field a little brighter :)

Also, if the lofi vibes nor are the clothes written in here aren’t your thing, feel free to insert whatever is your preferred interior theme and fashion/clothing style.

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and enjoy the drama being unfolded on the stage.

Part one

Part three

Yeo Jung-Hwa was unhappy with the series of events that had occurred at the office. Hyueng Mun-Hee had bursted into his office with tears streaming down her bright red face, sobbing about how she cannot stand being bullied by the team manager of her department any longer. Who was the team manager?

You. His fiancee. The woman he must marry. A promise between his father and yours that would be beneficial to everyone involved - everyone except him. Wasn’t he entitled to experience pure joy of being loved and in love? To be with someone who wasn’t tiresome and annoyed him all the time? 

Meeting Hyeung Mun-Hee had felt like seeking the sky for the first time. She was a breath of fresh air to his stifling world. Hearing your most recent act of cruelty towards her had been the final straw. And like any self-respecting CEO, he texted the CFO to look into it before all hell had broken loose. He was receiving emails from the managers of all the other departments left and right, all with the same attachment. Botched up documents. And the one who had sent it was none other than Hyeung Mun-Hee. 

But he didn’t believe it at first.

 He truly thought it was another underhanded trick you had created to get Hyeung Mun-Hee fired because that’s exactly the sort of person you are to him; a dishonest, greedy, arrogant woman whose saving grace as a human being is an excellent work ethic. Once he had calmed his darling, drying her tears with his handkerchief, he marched into the Finance Department and demanded answers from you as soon as he got off of the phone with his panicked CFO. Instead of apologizing for what you did, you explained how Hyeung Mun-Hee made mistakes and you gave her a chance to fix them, but she did not correct them. She completed the required training. She knows how to calculate and make spreadsheets, so why is she pushing her work onto others? 

More importantly, you fixed her mistakes and sent out the correct ones to the other departments. Everything has been resolved, but you wanted Hyeung Mun-Hee to attend the company’s financial seminars to ensure that this embarrassing incident does not happen again. As much as he despised you, every point you made was correct…especially after he retreated to his office and compared the budget allocations on his monitors; Hyeung Mun-Hee’s on the left and yours on the right. The numbers in his darling’s work were completely off, and they could have cost the company hundreds of thousands if the situation hadn’t been resolved. 

He was certain that it was sheer dumb luck. 

Just because you had prevented a major internal disaster from occurring doesn’t mean he would ever look at you as he looked at Hyeung Mun-Hee. In a cesspool filled with hypocrites and liars, his darling is a breath of fresh air. Pure, kind-hearted, committed. Loving. So many qualities you lacked. Yet is it all that it seems? He thought, sitting alone in his home office late at night. If Hyeung Mun-Hee made these mistakes, why didn’t she just admit it instead of coming to me? 

He wanted to believe she was telling the truth, yet the proof is right there on his computer. Like his predecessors, he needed to take on the responsibility of a leader and make sure that the conglomerate’s integrity remained intact. However, he also desired to shelter his darling from the world’s cruelty. Remove her from the department and secretly marry her so that they could be together at last. He is selfish, but he has the right to bask in his own happiness. Unlike some people.

Well, if he can’t outright get the truth from you…then he’ll just have to call in a favor from a certain someone in the underworld. The person in question could set up cameras in your bedroom by slipping in and out of your estate as a groundskeeper or pest control and no one would be the wiser. He could do it for a price and make sure that nothing could be traced back to him. The last thing Yeo Jung-Hwa wanted is to be arrested for illegally filming someone without their consent.

Not when this is an opportunity to sever ties with you completely, once and for all. 

Two days later, he received an email and an attachment. When he clicked on it, four camera angles appeared on his desktop. All of them were in your room. But is this really your room? He expected it to be clean with sleek, wooden floors covered by monochrome carpeting and a walk-in closet filled to the brim with extravagant clothes, shoes, purses that she wouldn’t wear twice in her life. The uninspiring minimalist bougie interior design that is being coveted amongst the upper classes. Your taste was much more comforting. It appeared cozy, with soft lighting and warm blankets. 

Strings of fairy lights strung up across the ceiling.  A full bookshelf was near the bed. The floor was decorated with knitted ottomans and candles.  You lit them all back up as soon as you returned from the company, much later in the evening and when he was in his home office, cradling a cup of black coffee. 

You disappeared into the back for a moment, returning in a two-piece fleece loungewear with mushrooms and plants on them. Something he had expected to see Hyeung Mun-Hee dressed in, but not you. Were you trying to copy his lover’s tastes so he would pay attention to you? How shameless!

When he flipped the audio on the cameras, he expected to hear snide remarks about Hyeung Mun-Hee or see you talking to someone on the phone about sabotaging the new project coming up soon so that you would take all the credit. Instead, you were…shopping on a furniture site?

“I don’t need another bookcase, or it’ll look too cluttered. I can’t get any more potted plants either. I’ve already done enough renovations here to make it cozy and relaxing. What about…a salt thingy? What’s it called?” You typed a few words in the search engine, [Eye Color] irises brightening in realization. “Oh right, Himalayan salt lamp! That’s not a terrible price for this one! And yarn. I need more yarn to complete that gift for Caretaker Lee’s birthday. Speaking of which, I could work on that tonight. Give my eyes a break from staring at screens all damned day.” You scooted over to the edge of the bed, pulling one drawer outward. You then reached inside, removing knitting needles, yarn and dark red clumps of something. You put on headphones and began to knit.  

You, the proud and arrogant Park Seo-yun, was knitting. 

You didn’t move from that spot at all, completely focused on your project when a knock came from the bedroom door. A fleeting, fearful look appeared on your face before you frantically shoved all of your materials back in the drawer, sputtering to wait one moment that you weren’t decent before putting on a bored expression, scrolling through your phone and reclining back like a lazy cat. You told them to come in, and an elderly woman in an apron walked in with a wooden tray filled with assorted foodstuff, carefully setting it down on one of the ottomans. 

“Thank you for preparing my midnight snack, Caretaker Lee. I’m sorry it’s been such an inconvenience while I’m reviewing these documents for tomorrow.” You said with a smile. Caretaker Lee shook her head, walking over to your bed. You scooted over so she wouldn’t fall over the edge (presumably, because this entire situation is bizarre to Yeo Jung-Hwa), and she sat down. She smiled down at you, stroking the top of your head.

“This humble one is honored to serve the Park family, especially the hard-working young miss. It cannot be easy, with the current circumstances. Young miss…please forgive me for speaking outright…but are you certain about going through with this engagement? It seems that you have never spent any time with him outside of working at his conglomerate, and any time he has is spent with someone else.”

Yeo Jung-Hwa expected you to hit her, to punish Caretaker Lee for speaking out of turn and to mind her own business. Instead, you stared at her for a long moment, wide-eyed and mouth  slightly parted…before your lips curled into a melancholy smile, eyes softening. 

“I thank you for your concern, Caretaker Lee. But this is an engagement between my father and the conglomerate’s predecessor. It’s not something that can be broken off so easily with benefits for both parties.” You said. “This is the price to be part of the elite. To sacrifice your happiness for the sake of business.” You then leaned forward, pulling Caretaker Lee into a hug. “It’ll be okay, really. I’m Park Seo-yun. I can take care of myself. And you should be in bed. You’ve got a long drive to see your grandchildren tomorrow morning. Enjoy the weekend, and I’ll see you on Monday.” 

“But-”

“I’ll bring the tray down the kitchen when I’m finished.”

“Miss-”

“Nope.” 

You then shooed her out of the room, telling Caretaker Lee to send your mother a text as soon as she got to her destination. The old woman smiled sheepishly, wishing you good night and asked you to not stay up too late. Once she was out of the room and the door was closed, you walked back to the bed, shoulders sagging and suddenly looking incredibly tired before you fell face first onto the blankets, legs dangling from the edge. You remained like that for a moment, then picked yourself up and curled up your lower body, grabbing one of the blankets and putting it over your legs. You retrieved your hidden supplies, resuming your knitting, taking five minute breaks in between to eat from the tray. Three more hours passed until you decided to call it a night, blowing out the candles and switching the fairy lights to a lower setting before disappearing into the bathroom. You came back out, grabbed the tray, and vanished. 

This isn’t real. It can’t be real. You are a haughty, greedy woman who could care less about commoners, much less servants. You love shopping at boutiques and only want the best of the best in anything. Even in an arranged marriage. He could never be happy with someone like you. 

But is all of that true? A nasty little voice in the back of Yeo Jung-Hwa’s mind hissed. Those were rumors created by other women who weren’t pleased that they weren’t good enough to marry you. Park Seo-yun is a stranger to you. You never bothered to know nor care to. Why would you when you have someone you love, Hyeung Mun-Hee?

He didn’t need to, and the fact that he wanted to know the truth about you of all people terrified him. He’s not supposed to care, not to be curious or even concerned about your well-being.  This was a strategic engagement, not one born out of mutual affection. He has a role to play in this world after all. 

Three weeks had passed since he had the cameras installed, and all Yeo Jung-Hwa had discovered or even learned is that you were a completely different person in your home than at the office. 

You work Monday through Fridays, always on time and never staying late unless it was necessary. You returned to your family estate late on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursdays because there was a spinning class at the company gym after your shift on those days. Friday evenings were spent in either your room, holed up and completely focused on knitting or doing something else that helped relax you. If you were staying up late, the servants would provide a midnight snack for you. The portions increased on the days you were at the gym, alluding that you possessed an enormous appetite due to a high metabolism instead of being a glutton as Hyeung Mun-Hee has told him time and time again.  You talked to yourself when you were alone, or at least your thoughts before making a decision on something. When he remotely hacked into your laptop to see if he could find any evidence of foul play there, he saw your browsing history contained only decoration aesthetics ideas, healthier snacks to eat at night, local beginner yoga instructors, and shopping at small businesses on Crafty plus one or two high-end boutiques for business casual outfits. Nothing incriminating on any level whatsoever. But he was not going to let you off of the hook that easily. 

At work he ignored you entirely, focusing his attention on Hyeung Mun-Hee and blocked your calls so that he didn’t have to talk to you outside of business hours. There was not a single text message or voicemail from you on his cellphone when he unblocked your number yesterday morning after coming into the office. Understandably frustrated and cranky from a lack of proper sleep, he decided to change the deadline for the quarterly income statements and the inspections of the company’s financial software, including reinforcing the firewalls and ensuring there was no fraudulent activity in the company’s transactions to Monday morning. 

With this amount of work, he was absolutely certain that it would be your slip-up. That you’d push your assigned tasks to Hyeung Mun-Hee so you could keep working on your knitting projects. Today is Saturday, and you left your house at seven o’clock to go to the office. You stayed awake until midnight typing away on your company laptop, looking over spreadsheets while talking to the head of IT on speaker, arranging a test run on the firewalls on Sunday evening. 

Instead of helping the team prepare for everything to be finished at the beginning of the week, Hyeung Mun-Hee was sitting across from him inside a coffee shop, beaming and utterly happy that they were finally out on a date after not being on one for so long, she was getting worried about him. Well…perhaps. Yeo Jung-Hwa glanced down at the shopping bags by their feet. They had gone to trendy high end streets and luxury department stores earlier this morning, with Hyeung Mun-Hee desiring…no, more like insisting that she had at least eight new work outfits so that she would represent his company properly as a team member of the Finance Department. 

If that’s true, then why are you here using my black card to shop instead of working at the office? He thought behind a smile as his supposed lover’s words went from one ear and out the other. If you were here with him, he’d probably have been more accepting of indulging in your vices and insisting on paying for everything instead of you, even when you were just as wealthy as he is. 

“I’m sure that you will find out why Park Seo-yun is acting so suspiciously!” Hyeung Mun-Hee said in a hushed voice. “I can’t believe you are even associated with such a vile person. She can’t get away with talking down to others like that! She may be rich, but she doesn’t know how to truly appreciate what she has right now!” She giggled. “It’s funny, isn’t it? She has everything, but she still clings to your engagement like a sad puppy! If she truly loves you, then she should have convinced her father to call everything off so that you can be happy. But the rich think differently I guess, right?” 

His smile tightened. “Perhaps.” He said, languidly sipping the java chip mocha frappuccino that she bought for him even though he preferred to have his coffee black with no sugar and he’s told her this little tidbit many times. “She is extravagant, but you also have luxurious taste, Hyeung Mun-Hee.” 

He watched her eyes widen in surprise and embarrassment, sputtering for a moment before she asked. “W-What are you saying, Yeo Jung-Hwa? You know me! If I had been given a choice to meet up, I would have chosen the downtown area so you could try the street vendors I’ve been talking about!”

And risk my health by getting food poison from reused cooking oil, poorly washed utensils, and ingesting noodles that are too greasy or salty? Absolutely not. He thought with slight irritation. 

“Maybe, but we both know that we must be discreet in our interactions, as I’ve told you before.That’s why I suggested we come here, but instead of sampling delicious foods at the restaurants I recommended, you wanted to come here instead after shopping.  If I remember correctly, your department is supposed to be presenting a big project on Monday. Why are you here, shopping to your hearts’ content instead of being at the office and helping out the team?”

“W-Why should I be there?” Hyeung Mun-Hee countered, bolting up from her seat as she stared at him in shock. “If I go there, Park Seo-yun will harass me! I can’t work in an environment like that! I did those seminars she  told me to do and passed the tests! Can’t I enjoy a day off?!” Fat tears began to build up behind her hazel eyes. “I’ve been working hard enough!”

But you are the one who is putting in the overtime needed to finish the job. You are leading the team to do what needs to be done. Hyeung Mun-Hee is just enjoying the perks of being by his side. Have you eaten lunch yet? Perhaps he can stop by somewhere that allows take-out and bring some to your office under the excuse that he needs to get some work done as well.  Dinner too, perhaps? 

“ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME, YEO JUNG-HWA?!”

He glared at her. “Sit down, Hyeung Mun-Hee.” He hissed, displeased that her shrill voice had attracted unwanted attention from customers who were either sitting at tables or waiting on orders to finish up at the pick-up area. “Finish your drink, and take a taxi back to the city, to your home.”

“It’s still early in the day, we haven’t been out in a while!”

“And I’m tired from the shopping. I don’t need to see what you bought because I already have seen them all at the shops.” He replied tersely. “I need to stop by the office and take care of a few things at the office before I need to go home.” 

Hyeung Mun-Hee’s face is a dark shade of purple. Consumed by anger, her mouth hung open, on the brink of another explosive tantrum, as the coffee shop door swung open, exposing its next patron. You.  

You stepped up to the pick-up area, looking at the various drinks with a pensive expression before waving down a barista. “Excuse me.” You said. “I’m here to pick up a mobile order for several drinks under Park. When will they be ready? I need to hurry back to the office with caffeine for my employees or things are going to get ugly.” The  handbag hung from your wrist as you fished out your phone, presumably showing the online order to the young man. He looked at you before smiling at you. 

“We’ll have it done in just a moment, ma’am.”

Is it wrong for Yeo Jung-Hwa to desire the bright smile you gave to that insignificant commoner when you did not know he was here with Hyeung Mun-Hee?

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Congratulations, Congratulations, Congratulations! 

Important things must be said three times.

The viewership score for Episode 52 has arrived!

Taglist: @cerisearan @julietdelamare @ghostdoodlen @mochinon-yah @queenofspades403 @alittletiredcry @burningaestheticsimp @proper-fox @neutralrobot @reallysparklychaos @tired-of-life-86 @nunezs-stuff @yandere-dark-cupid @imperfectbloodmoon @cassanderasblog @faux-ecrivain @abelheilonwife @ixchelhernandez4 @diannaflight @sweetbatherodonkey @strangepoppy @persephone-kore-law @swallowtail-lotus @tonightwrites @majestichugs @pinkynecktie

©️do not repost or use any of the characters depicted here without the author’s permission. forbidden-sunlight, 2024

[bahablastplz]

Canvas: Hyunjin x Reader

Content: A late night with your boyfriend turns into something more as you both try something you had only talked about before; smut and fluff Warnings: p in v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, heavy heavy praise WC: 2500 Happy birthday Hyunjin <3

Hyunjin was painting again. 

As you roll out of bed in the middle of the night, this fact is apparent. The smell of paint wafts from the living room where he has his work space set up. A large tarp on the floor, a small easel propped up and a lamp set to illuminate his latest work. Paints lay haphazardly around him, a blend of colors and shades of hues mushed across the palette. The rest of the room was dimly lit, moonlight shimmering through the curtains and shining on your boyfriend’s face. God, he was breathtaking. One paintbrush is in his mouth and the other in his hand, gliding across the canvas. The sight makes you let out a breathy laugh. 

“Love?” He looks up at you now, watching your frame as you admire him from the wall. The lamp light reflects onto his dark-framed glasses when his gaze meets yours, and you smile at how the yellow and orange lights glow across his features. He smiles back. It’s a small gesture, and even though you’ve seen him smile hundreds of times the gesture warms your heart. 

You cross the room in your nightgown, the cold breeze from the air-conditioning causing you to curl into yourself slightly. Hyunjin beckons to the spot on the floor beside him and you take it eagerly, body curling around him and head resting on his lap. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask him. He has the habit of sneaking away in the night, so as to not wake you, and painting until the sun starts to creep through the windows. It’s cathartic for him, a way for him to get away from his thoughts that trouble him in the night. In moments like this you love to watch him, how his brows furrow in concentration and his lips get caught between his teeth. Hyunjin was the most in his element when he had a canvas in front of him. 

“Mm,” he confirms. He checks his hand to make sure no paint dirties it before he rests it on your hip, drawing soothing circles on top of your nightgown. Your head nuzzles deeper into him and you breathe in his scent, letting out a content hum. 

“Did I wake you?” He asks a moment later. His hand moves effortlessly across canvas, dappling acrylic paint across a vision of flowers that was already the picture of perfection to you–but would probably take him at least a few more hours to complete. He was a perfectionist like that; he could point out every absence of color, needed highlight or small imperfection of his work that was near imperceivable to you. 

“No, the bed was just cold. I wanted to see where you were,” you hum against his skin. Your words were true, of course; because you get so hot when you sleep next to your boyfriend, the house usually stays a bit chillier but you notice his absence sometimes when he leaves the bed late at night. He now wears a dark colored hoodie that swallows his features, meant for his comfort when lounging around the house like this. His pants are also meant for lounging, the gray sweatpants soft but covered in remnants of previous art projects known lovingly as his ‘painting pants.’ 

“Do you want me to warm you up?” You nod and crawl into his lap, nuzzling your face right into the crook of his neck. He lets out a breathy laugh underneath you, arms wrapping around your frame to bring you closer as he continues to work. After a few minutes your boyfriend leans closer to the canvas, examining a piece of his work that must have not looked right to him. This action shifts your position, however, your core now pressed right against his clothed length. You tense against him and your breath hitches slightly, and you know that he’s caught on to your arousal. 

“How much longer?” You whine against him. He lets out a laugh and uses his free hand to stroke your back, long fingers moving languidly across your spine. The action is meant to soothe you but has the opposite effect, sending an electrical shock down your body and causing you to let out a small breath. 

“Why, love? Are you feeling needy for me?” You nod almost embarrassingly fast. While you love watching Hyunjin paint and could for hours, you can’t help the want that settles deep in your gut that begs for his touch, his attention, and his desire to be released toward you. 

“I was hoping to paint for a while more,” he confesses. You try not to let your disappointment show, but you let out a moan as the man’s hand finds your hips, pushing you harder against him. The friction that meets your core has you feeling more desperate and you buck into him and he’s smiling, and it infuriates you to know he’s intentionally trying to work you up. He has always loved seeing you pliant, needy and desperate for him, and you were unfortunately already in that state somehow. “Do you want to sit on my cock baby?” Your head reels back to look at him with wide eyes. “You can sit on my cock while I paint but you have to be good and promise not to move, okay?” 

You had talked with him about cock-warming before but it was never something you had actually done. Now, it must be just past 3 a.m., and you were finally turning the hypothetical into reality–it felt unreal. You let out an affirmative sound and nod your head, and he’s maneuvering your bodies to get you set up. He repositions you so that you’re on your knees above him, slightly towering over him where he sits on the floor. He’s lifting his hips up and pushing his pants down just past his thighs, releasing his cock and pumping it one, two times. He’s hard already, and you watch him in awe as he works to pleasure himself in front of you. It’s just for a second, but enough for him to have your breath come to a stop, which is exactly what he was waiting for. 

His hands find place on your waist. He’s hitching your nightgown up above your hips, leaving you bare for him. It’s no secret that sometimes you sleep without underwear on, but he smirks at you and stares in a way that leaves you feeling utterly exposed despite him having seen you like this hundreds of times. His fingers come up to your core, rubbing it and gathering your wetness to spread it around your folds. You let out a moan at the action, thankful for the contact before he’s dragging you down and placing his cock at your entrance. 

He leans back on his hands and looks up at you, waiting for you to do the rest. And so you do, piercing yourself onto him and sliding down his length, inch by inch. Hyunjin was well-endowed, so to speak, so it was never an easy fit to take him but it felt pleasurable nonetheless. Finally he is fully inside you, and your breathing and each moan is completely synced with one another. A hand comes up to bring a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and the movement is so domestic and loving that it makes your heart pang in your chest. 

“Beautiful,” is all he says. 

He brings your nightgown back down so that it covers you up, remembering your recent complaint about being cold. Your head finds its place back on his shoulder, in the crook of his neck like it’s your home. 

And, he continues painting. 

You’re not sure why you’re surprised–that’s exactly what he said he was going to do. Your boyfriend has a lot of self-control and restraint that you did not, and it was especially evident when you were intimate. While you often become wrecked from the start, he would let his pleasure build up and would reel from the delayed gratification of it all. 

Your knees find the ground and before you can help yourself, you put your weight on them. You’re propping yourself up, sliding up his length about halfway, before crashing back down. Your clit drags deliciously across his abdomen in the process, causing you to let out a heavy sigh of pleasure. You rock against him only one more time before strong hands find your shoulders, pushing you down hard. You try to bounce up again and find that you’re unable, his grip keeping you in place so firmly that you cannot budge despite your attempts. 

“Don’t,” he scolds. His words are sharp, not laced with venom but to remind you of his earlier demands. 

At this angle, his hands pushing you down causes his cock to be seated deeper inside you than before and you let out an embarrassing squeak. You feel so full, and you tell him so. 

He has an idea; he grabs you and leans forward, grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his torso. When he sits back down, you are now unable to give yourself the momentum needed to move your hips or rock against his length. You are fully seated on him and he is fully inside you, his arms wrapping around you and holding you flush against him as he continues his work. 

It’s silent, now, with the exception of your shallow and uneven breathing. You find yourself clenching against him over and over again, reeling in the sensation of him inside you. And it’s just that–you can really feel him like this, every ridge and vein, every pulse of him inside you, and it has you feeling lightheaded. 

“God, baby, you’re gushing around me,” he whispers into your hair. “Taking me so good.” His praise makes you smile and squeeze tighter around him and he groans. You feel smug to finally get him to lose his composure, but he starts spouting more praise that makes all thoughts vanish in an instant.

“So good for me, baby, you know that? Such a good pussy. You’re the love of my life, God, you were made just for me. You were made for me to love you, to hold you like this… So pretty for me. You’re all mine, meant to take my cock, yeah?” You whimper against him, the mixture of sweet nothings and sexual praise whispered to you making you feel dizzy. 

It’s several more minutes before you say something, finally coming to the conclusion that you would have to be the one to initiate it further, if he would even let you. 

“Please…” It’s all you can say at first. 

“What, love?” He teases. He knows exactly what you want. 

“Need you to move, please, Hyune… It’s too much. Need to cum,” You beg. You’re sure you sound pathetic but you can’t find it in you to care. If there’s anyone who’s not only willing but wanting to see you in your most pathetic and vulnerable states, it’s Hyunjin. 

“Poor thing, does it feel that good?” His voice asks with a small lilt in it. You’re sniffling now, embarrassed about the tears starting to spill down your cheeks but so overcome in pleasure and sensitivity; you can both feel it in the ways that you clench around him unabashedly. He brings his head back to see your face, to examine your tears. He’s seen you on the verge of tears a few times while having sex from being overwhelmed by pleasure, and though it always makes his heart tighten because he’s the one that’s doing that to you, he’s the one making you feel that good,  he knows it’s about time you’ve reached your limit. He wipes a stray tear away and you don’t even realize that he has dropped his paintbrush until he’s picking you up and bringing you over to the couch. 

He leans back, enraptured by you, and brings you in for a sweet but messy kiss. It’s open-mouthed and hot, and it feels like you’re breathing into him and filling up his lungs. Your tongues meet and you’re covered in spit, a mixture of yours and his, and suddenly his hands are on your hips and his feet are planted strongly on the ground. He doesn’t disconnect his mouth from yours as he thrusts up into you long and hard, but any coherence is long since gone and you’re not sure you’re even kissing back anymore, instead giving loud, high-pitched moans into his mouth. 

His hands move to the undersides of your thighs and he uses his strength to piston into you. In this way, you can only take what he gives but it’s more than enough, as he knows your body better than you do. 

“I’m close, love,” he confesses. He lets his head fall back onto the couch but his eyes never leave yours, drinking up your scrunched up face and open-mouthed pants. It’s no surprise that you’re both close to your arrival so soon, after sitting on him for so long your pleasure feels like it’s increased tenfold. 

“Me too,” you say, struggling to get the words out. You didn’t have to tell him, though. He could tell by the way you were starting to tighten around him. 

“Go ahead and touch your pretty clit for me, make yourself come.” You follow his command, hand snaking down to where your bodies meet. He was right, you were absolutely soaked, and you use this wetness to shakily circle around your clit. His thrusts get harder, deeper, the way they do right before he cums. Unsurprisingly, you beat him to it, clenching all over his length and throwing your head back as you release. 

He follows suit, thrusting into you a few more times before he finds his release, spilling deep inside of you. He holds you close, rutting into you now slowly and working you both through your intense orgasms. When he stills, you collapse into his arms and he holds you tight, embracing you and running a hand through your hair as he praises you. When he finally pulls you off of him you feel empty and this makes you whine. Hyunjin pulls up his sweatpants and carries you to your shared bathroom, placing you onto the sink as he runs the bath. It’s late, but you feel grimy and covered in sweat so the bath is more than welcomed. 

When you look into the mirror, you can’t help but laugh. Your nightgown is covered in paint at your hips and your waist. Though he had tried to be so careful, you suppose it was the risk that came with the reward. When Hyunjin sees the target of your laughter, he joins you and apologizes sheepishly, promising to buy you another. 

“It’s okay, this can just be my paint nightgown,” you joke. “I’ll wear it the next time we have sex while you’re painting.” He smiles at you affectionately, and when you finally get back to sleep it’s in his arms and your bed is warm again.

*** Masterlist Recs

[seventeenpins]

bad girl

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

word count: 4.1k

summary: you're staying in your hometown for a couple of months with your mom and relatively new stepdad. he walks in on you masturbating, and is surprised at the sort of porn you've been watching. no outbreak. very smutty. 18+

warnings: ooh god where to begin??, reader is kind of a detached menace but in a fun way?, masturbation, porn watching, infidelity, choking, pussy slapping, pussy eating, unsafe piv, dirty talk, big dick, daddy kink, bit of breeding kink, age difference (unspecified, but reader is late 20s, joel mid-40s or whatever you like really), begging, slight dom/sub vibes, readers mum is a ho, somewhat degrading language (probably other warnings????)

a/n: honestly don't know what happened here. one minute i was working on what i intended to be a lil daddy kink drabble and then it turned into a whole other beast. also--i'm a recently out nb person but feel most of my writing has focused on fem readers. any nbs out there who'd want smut more tailored to us??? doesn't come up in this fic, but in my heart joel miller is bisexual and would make for some gr8 gender play ahhhh

you had only met your stepdad twice before he married your mom, and only a couple of times since, and you could never quite get a read on him. he seemed quiet and gruff. upsettingly hot with his salt and pepper hair, and his biceps, and his little bit of tummy, but seemingly entirely unattainable (how your mom pulled him, you'll never know). your mom didn't have the greatest track record as far as not cheating on her husbands, and you didn't know how much or how little he knew about her past, but you were incredibly curious how long this one'd last.

he's polite. enigmatic. a man of few words. he had two kids, who you hadn't actually met yet, but they were a few years younger than you and away at college--one daughter from a previous marriage, the other adopted when he was a single dad.

you'd only been staying here for a couple of weeks, usually only home for two months out of the year to do some freelance work and catch up with friends, but since your mom got remarried (again) you're adjusting to the new dynamic. you didn't have the best relationship with your mom, but you didn't argue. didn't fight. didn't have enough interest or passion to try and make her angry. you had a mutual understanding--you'd stay here for a couple months of the year, rent-free, and you wouldn't get into it with her about how her four husbands and a dozen boyfriends in between them in the nearly thirty years you'd been alive had simply made you impassive towards most men, knowing they'd never be able to stick around, and instead you took what you wanted and then ditched them before they could ditch you. to say you had daddy issues was just the tip of the iceberg.

there's only been one family dinner night since you've been back, but calling it awkward was an understatement. you were sat in almost total silence, as your mom scrolls on her phone and joel scoops up some mashed potatoes and slaps them onto his plate.

"so, uh-," he begins, clearly not sure how to start a conversation, "how's your work been going? guessing it's pretty slow these months since you're able to take the time away? your freelance stuff going well?"

"sure," you agree, "it does get slow this time of year. freelance has been good. got a couple of projects i'm enjoying working on."

there's another silence.

"your momma said you'd been dating someone you met at your work? how's that been going?"

you laughed, thinking back to one of the only guys you'd mentioned to your mother, less out of a closeness to him and more because you wanted your mom to get off your case, "honestly, that ended a while ago. he was a pretty terrible lay."

joel clearly wasn't expecting that, and you smirked at him as he choked on the beer he was sipping, coughing and trying to cover up any spittle. your mom gently pats him on the back, still staring at her phone, not even listening. typical.

not sure how to follow this up, joel just shrugs and puts on a stoic face. "sorry to hear about that, sweetheart. what a shame."

you'd be lying if you said that didn't make your heart flutter just a little.

you've attuned to the general framework of home again. you've noticed a few other things, too. first, your stepdad seems to be taking a whole lot of evening shifts. second, your mom seems to be out when he's out, too, but always manages to slip in just before he gets home. finally, if there's one thing you know about joel, it's that if he's working an evening shift, you can pretty much guarantee that he's gonna be at least an hour later coming home than he says he'll be. more often than not, two. you've been here for sixteen days, and in the eleven days he's worked late, he's been late late. and this morning, joel said he wouldn't be home till at least 9pm.

it's only 5pm, so you think absolutely nothing of it when you pull up your favorite porn site, careless about keeping your bedroom door closed.

sometimes it takes you a long time to decide on what porn to watch. sometimes you want the release, and just need something that'll get you there quick. and then there are some days where you know exactly what you want. you know exactly how you want it, and you know just where to find it.

you've got an incognito browser up as you scroll through the page till you find the section you're looking for. click open a couple of videos in separate tabs. skip the ads.

place the laptop beside you, choose one to start with, and watch as the scene unfolds.

you need this. it's only been a couple of weeks since you've gotten laid, but you and your most recent fuck buddy have more or less broken up and you are extraordinarily horny, with no outlet besides your hand (and, technically, your trusty magic wand, but you forgot to bring your charging cable and she's only got so much life in her).

you focus on the scene, slowly dragging your fingers along your pussy lips, your other hand pinching and twisting at a nipple. you listen to the moans on screen as you tease yourself, dipping a finger into your tight, wet heat, and then adding another. the friction begins to build, and the pressure you're putting on your clit is just right.

"fuck", you let out a breathless moan as you start finger fucking yourself in earnest. your hips are stuttering and you feel it building so deliciously and you absolutely don't hear the knock on your door and the slight clear of a throat.

and then you register it, a couple of moments later.

you look up from your laptop screen and towards your door and you see your stepdad, cup of coffee in hand, and he's staring at you with an expression you can't parse, one eyebrow raised.

you buffer, taking a moment more for you to react to him, and you manage it in the worst possible way.

"fuck!!" you shout, slamming the laptop shut and practically flinging it away from you, pulling your hand from under the sheets and not-so-subtly wiping your slick on your duvet, and pulling your top back down over your tits. it's all done in a split second, and it was neither low-key nor quiet. you know your face is growing more flushed by the moment, and you can swear joel is actually smirking.

you stare each other down before you finally speak, "what are you doing home so early?"

"i live here," joel shrugs, takes a sip of the coffee, and then realises he might sound like a bit of a dick. "just- uh. just found out some... shitty news. decided to take the day off."

you almost forget the situation, quick to voice your worry--"are you okay joel? what's going on?"

he snorts. opens his mouth and closes it, as if he's decided better of it, and then opens it again. "just found out your mom's been stepping out on me. well. thought it was true for a while, but my brother just saw her with some guy. guess that's all the confirmation i need." he laughs, wryly, and his smile is dangerous.

"well shit," you say. it doesn't surprise you in the least, but you're not sure if it'd be better or worse to acknowledge that, and then you immediately remember your newest stepfather just caught you masturbating and you're deeply self conscious again.

"i'm really sorry, joel, but you've clearly-" you clear your throat, "caught me at a bad time. is there something i can help you with?"

he looks you up and down for a moment, and you can swear he's looking at your mouth for a second longer than you'd expect.

"well," he says, "i'd come up to see if you wanted anything for dinner. i was gonna order takeout."

there's a long pause.

"but now i'm curious about what i interrupted."

your eyes widen.

"let me see your computer. i wanna know what you were watching that you're so embarrassed of."

you immediately grab your laptop close to you and shake your head. this is something joel cannot see. "absolutely fuckin not," you tell him, and his smile gets sharper.

"i wasn't askin', sweetheart."

there's something dangerous about him now, and even though it frightens you, it's somehow exciting, too. commanding. persuasive.

he puts his mug down, and you barely think about what you're doing when you hand him the laptop, type in the password, and turn it around towards him.

you can't bare to look at the screen at the same time as him. it's fucked up and weird and he'd have every reason to avoid you forever after this, but there's a small (but persuasive) part of you that's telling you that this is a line he's willingly crossing, and there's a charge beneath it, and maybe you could get from him exactly what you want.

you study his face as he scrolls down the page. you hear him click, but no sound starts playing--he must be looking at the other tabs.

his eyes widen, and you can hear your heartbeat pounding as you watch his face.

you want him to say something. you need him to say something.

he hits play on one of the videos and the room is immediately fills with the sounds of slick flesh and moans and cries of "oh, daddy, oh daddy please--"

it's only then that he looks at you.

"well aren't you a filthy girl, hmm?" joel ridicules, "and don't think i don't notice the trend with these little videos of yours."

it's humiliating. you almost expect to die out of embarrassment right on the spot.

"look at some of these titles," joel continues, "stepdaughter gets fingerfucked by stepdaddy, stepdaughter's pussy pumped with daddy's cum ASMR, jesus christ girl-" he laughs, incredulous, "letting my stepdaddy breed my little hole".

joel's staring you down and you still haven't said anything, and that just won't do.

"these the usual kinda thing you like to touch yourself to? or is this a new subject now that you're home, spending time around your stepdaddy?"

"i-" you start, "i don't know, i-"

it's not an act, you're pretty fuckin frazzled, practically cocooning yourself in your covers and you shrink back in shame, and this seems to amuse joel to no end

"how's this, sweet girl," he says, and you realise he's been getting closer and closer to you and now he's seated only inches from your bare legs and pussy, still covered up with your blankets, "you tell me to stop, and i'll leave this room right now and close the door and we can pretend i never saw anything here-"

"no!" you cry out, and then slap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide at yourself while joel starts to chuckle.

"or," he continues, "you can let your stepdaddy make you feel real good."

"yes-" you cry, and not a moment later, the blankets are being pulled back and he's stroking two thick fingers along your cunt.

"there's a good girl," he says, and actually groans as he dips into you, collecting your slick, "so fucking wet for me. it is me you've been thinking about, ain't it?" he asks.

"yes joel," you say, because it's the fucking truth. you've been thinking about him nonstop for a while now, thinking about how his muscled arms look in those stupid threadbare t-shirts, thinking about the sigh he makes when he's had his first sip of a cold beer, thinking about the silver of his hair, the brown of his eyes, and the mere idea of what his cock might taste like. "i've wanted you to fuck me since i first met you."

he lets out a fuckin growl and presses his fingers into you. "such a cute little pussy, already dripping for me, huh?" he moans, and it's two digits pressing into you, but you've been working yourself up for a little while now and you're already swollen and wet and they slip right in. he finger fucks you for a moment before turning back to the laptop.

"which one's your favorite?" he nods at your screen, "which one do you watch and wish it was happening to you?"

you swallow and click back to another tab.

"letting my stepdaddy breed my little hole?", he snorts, "you really are a dirty girl, aren't you? get up off the bed." he commands.

you obey, standing up and kicking off the panties still around your ankles.

"and take that top off," he commands, and you do, pulling your top up over your tits and melting at the sound of his groan at seeing you bare for him.

he sits down on the bed with his legs spread, jeans still on. "you come sit here by daddy's lap," he says, and you do, sitting in between his thighs, inching back ever so slightly until you could feel his hard cock straining against his pants.

he runs his fingertips down your body, down your breasts and torso, dipping into your bellybutton, before drawing little circles on your hips.

'hit play," he says, and you grab the laptop next to you and resume the video.

he copies the video, rubbing one hand along your pussy and the other holding your thighs open.

"that's it," he coaxes, "keep those legs open for me, yeah?"

you're about to agree, when he starts stroking little circles around your already stimulated clit and the ability to speak leaves you. all you can do is focus on trying to keep your legs open, but your thighs are already almost quivering and he only chuckles.

"barely even touched you and you're already stupid."

you tried to nod and let out a sad whimper, tipping your head back and resting on his shoulder. he keeps his thumb pressed on your clit while he pumps his middle and index fingers in and out of you. it's so wonderfully, deliciously wrong. it feels addictive.

"you're doing so good, sweetheart, fucking on daddy's fingers like that," he praises, and it sends another spark of electricity building in your centre. encouraged, you start rocking your hips towards him, meeting each thrust of his fingers. "ready for another one?" he asks, and you nod vigorously.

he takes a moment to hold open your pussy and lean over you to look at it, stroking his fingertips along the outer lips, gathering some of your arousal, and prodding back your hood to get a little direct contact with your clit that leaves you writhing and gasping. he's smirking again, and presses a third finger into you. he curls them upwards, fucking the digits into you so nicely, and you enjoy the sensation as your arousal builds and builds and builds and-- as you come, you white out for just a moment, and as you come back into reality you can hear him speaking to you, "oh you're clenching so tight on my fingers, messy girl, look how you're dripping so nice down my fuckin' wrist. you're a nasty little slut, just like your momma huh? but i know you're gonna be a good girl for daddy, ain't ya?"

you continue to grind on his hand as his fingers stay buried in you, as you ride out the rest of your orgasm. only when you still does joel pull his fingers out of you.

as if hypnotised, he examines the arousal coating them. then, quick as anything, he pops his fingers in his mouth and sucks off your slick, immediately looking sheepish as though this was the only line he'd just crossed.

as quickly as he had become shy, he switched back to overt confidence. "y'just taste so good, sweetheart," he says, and then starts stroking your pussy again. "you're gonna let me have a proper taste, aren't you honey?"

you nod helplessly. it's so fucking good, it's too fucking good.

he scoots out from behind you and you buckle a little, toppling back onto the space he left. he's in front of you now and presses your thighs apart again, dropping to his knees on front of the bed's edge. he runs his tongue up your inner thigh, chuckling at your whimpers as he bites and nips at the sensitive skin. he takes a tentative lick, drawing his tongue towards your clit, circling it gently, and then dipping back before pulling off you for a moment.

"y'taste so fucking nice," he breathes, and his exhale on your slick pussy is exquisite. "i could just drink you up."

he presses the hood of your clit back once more, leaving his thumb there, applying perfect pressure as he flicks his tongue directly on that bundle of nerve endings and you feel like you're on fire.

"fuck, joel, yes-" you cry out, but he pulls back and shushes you.

"shhh," he says, "you don't call me joel right now, baby."

"i don't-?" you say, taken aback by the sudden lack of contact. then it clicks. "daddy-"

he smirks, "that's a good girl, sweetheart. wasn't too hard, now, was it?"

"no, daddy," you agree, and he's already diving back in, pressing his tongue into you in long strokes, letting you grind against his nose, his lips, the scratch of his cheeks, every movement he's making is so fucking perfect.

as he devours you, he presses his fingers into you again, and then you can't help yourself. you rut up on him, totally unable to practice anything resembling self restraint. in between strokes of his tongue, he pulls back and tells you, "i'm gonna need at least one more from you, baby, before you even get to think about sitting on this cock."

you let out a crazed whine, feeling joel's chuckle as he dives back in, eating your pussy like he was made to do only that.

he continues to build you up and up and without warning, you reach your peak again and come all over his face, your wet pussy drenching him and he closes his eyes and eats you through it like a man starved.

"fuck, baby," he says, "you taste so damn good, i could do that all day long."

you're splayed out, totally bare, the slick on your thighs cooling with the lack of contact. joel's looking you up and down, admiring your flushed body as he starts to undo his belt and drop his pants, your stomach flipping at the soft thunk of his belt hitting the floor.

you could feel, through his jeans, that his cock wasn't small, but you sure as fuck didn't anticipate just how thick and heavy it would hang between his wonderfully muscled thighs.

"you'd better get over here and fuck me, old man," you tease, and he snorts, before pulling you towards him by your ankles and landing a smack on your bare pussy.

"watch your manners, girl," he sneers.

"fuck!" you cry as you ride out the sensation, and he moves to slap you again, but your thighs are so slick his hand slips when he makes contact and accidentally presses you just right on your overstimulated clit, and to the surprise of both of you, you come again instantly.

he watches you, wide eyed, as you scream and your pussy clenches around nothing.

"you're just too easy, sweetheart," he laughs, "can't believe that little boyfriend of yours was such a bad lay when you're so goddamn easy. barely have to touch you and you're coming again and again for me."

"he'd just put it in, give it a couple thrusts, groan, and roll over," you snorted, loving the way joel's jaw clenches at your words, "besides, i prefer an older man."

"that's a damn shame, honey," he growls, "but i'm sure we can get ya taken care of."

you both realise at the same time that the video is still playing, as some particularly loud moans come through the speaker. you look over, and you swear you can see joel's eyes dilate as he watches.

that's a good girl, the man in the video croons, taking all of daddy's dick. wanna breed you full of me, fill you full of daddy's cum, you'd like that, huh?

you swallow and look back at joel. he looks ravenous.

"you love watching such dirty shit, don't you, baby?" joel asks, and starts teasingly rubbing your swollen clit again with his forefinger.

"yes daddy, please-" you agree, trying to chase the sensation, "please, i need your cock daddy, fill me up just like that-"

he lines himself up, notching the head of his thick cock at your entrance, and you're practically vibrating with need. it's not a want, it really is a need, if you don't have his cock right now you're probably gonna die and you need it you need it you need it so fucking badly

he laughs, and you realise you said all of that aloud, but you don't even have the capacity to feel truly shameful right now, you just need to feel him.

"c'mon, jo- daddy," you whine, "gotta feel you-"

"uh-uh, sweet thing," he chides, "i think you need to beg for it. you've got no manners, and knowing it's your momma who raised you it's pretty clear why, but you need to learn how to be a good girl. daddy's gonna teach you how to behave right here and now. got it?"

you let out a sharp exhale. "yes daddy."

"now beg."

two words shouldn't have such an ability to wreck you, but they do, and before you know it, you're rubbing your drooling pussy up against his cock head, rutting against him, begging and pleading-

"please, daddy, please fuck this wet pussy, you know how wrecked you've made me, turned me on so good, made me drip for you, made me come again and again on your fingers, i just wanna make you feel good, wanna take that cock, take everything you have to give, fuck me hard and fast and please, daddy, please--"

he cups your chin for just a moment, stroking a thumb along your jawline.

"that's better," he soothes, "what a good girl," and then he's slamming into you.

good fucking god he's huge, and you can swear you can feel every ridge, every vein, the swell of his shaft, the notch of his head, he's stretching you out deliciously.

you tilt your head back, leaving your throat bare, and let out a rough plea of, "choke me, daddy," and he doesn't need to be told twice, wrapping his hand around your neck and putting pressure in exactly the right spot. you can already feel the haziness building, and his thrusts keep coming fast and deep and you can feel the head of his cock brushing against your cervix.

"jesus christ, girl," he whines, and his thrusts start to falter a little, "you're gonna be the death of me. letting daddy use this nice little pussy just so he can feel good-"

his words begin to tip you over, and you know what you want-

"come inside me, daddy," you choke through the pressure around your throat, "fill me up, make yourself feel good, give it all to me-"

that does him in, and he lets out a strangled moan, coming inside you right as you come one last time, walls clenching tightly around his throbbing cock.

he releases your throat, and you both lay there for a minute, both totally fucked out.

after a minute, joel gingerly pulls out of you and lets out a weary groan.

"gonna be the death of me, woman," he snorts, and walks to your bathroom to clean himself up. he comes back a minute later with a cloth. you're expecting him to wipe you up, but first, he takes a moment to examine the cum that's dripping out of you.

"look so pretty like this, sweetheart," he smiles, presses his cum back into you, and then wipes down your slick thighs with the cloth.

"shit, joel-" you say, "who'd have thought you had that in you, old man?"

he rolls his eyes but he's still smiling, and then you sit together for a minute in comfortable silence. joel stands up after a while and grabs his coffee mug. takes a sip that you know must be cold by now, but he seems unbothered.

before he can leave, you stop him. "so-" you ask, "is this a one time thing, or?"

he shrugs, seemingly indifferent. "no reason i need to let your momma know what i know yet. and i reckon there's a lot more fun we can have before that happens."

you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and your shoulders relax.

"good." you say, and joel smiles.

"good," he repeats. "now, i know i've worked up quite an appetite and i'm guessing you might have, too. you pick the takeout, i'll go pick it up."

"thanks, joel." you smile, and you're already thinking of the next time as you scroll takeout options on your phone.

that's it. you're fucking addicted, and goddamn you can't wait for your next hit.

[lightsoutnaway]

Hellloooo can I request Carlos x Reader meeting his dad/family for the first time??

Thank youuu!!!

Meet the Family

PAIRING: Carlos Sainz Jr. x Reader

WARNINGS: None

SUMMARY: You meet Carlos' family at the Spanish Gran Prix.

WORD COUNT: 1,114

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! Sorry it took so long for me to get too. I've just gotten through a big series of projects at work though, and I have a lot of free time opening up! I appreciate your patience.

You were hanging your clothes in the closet of the hotel that you were staying at. You really wished they would build a track in Madrid so you could have one race where you and Carlos got to sleep at home. You picked up your last dress, sliding it onto a hanger and placing it in the hotel closet. 

“What do you want to do for dinner?” You asked Carlos as you started putting your shoes away. 

“My dad has a dinner reservation for all of us tonight,” Carlos told you. You froze. 

“Your dad?” You asked.

“Yes,” Carlos answered. “My mom and sister too.” 

“You didn’t tell me they would be here!” You exclaimed. Carlos looked over at you. He hadn’t realized your panic until then. 

“It’s the Spanish Gran Prix. I assumed you would know,” Carlos replied. 

“I assumed you would give me a warning before I met your family,” you told him. You ran a hand through your hair. Carlos tried to hold in a smile at your anxiety. “I don’t have gifts for any of them, Carlos.” 

“You don’t need gifts for them,” Carlos said. 

“My clothes aren’t nice enough either,” you continued. “I didn’t bring anything that’s right for dinner with your parents.” 

“You look perfect right now,” Carlos replied. You weren’t really listening. You stopped and looked at him. 

“Carlos, what if they hate me?” You asked. Carlos frowned. 

“They will not hate you,” Carlos assured you. 

“How do you know?” You pressed. 

“Because I love you. And they’re my family,” he answered. You took a deep breath. 

“Are you sure they won’t hate me?” You asked. Carlos chuckled. 

“They’ll love you, mi amor. My mother has been asking about you for months,” he told you. “She tells me how much happier I seem every time we talk. She knows it’s because of you.” Your cheeks warmed and your heart skipped a beat. 

“What about your dad?” You asked. You knew how much Carlos loved and respected his father. The approval of Carlos Sainz Sr. was something that you found yourself wanting the same way his son did. 

“He’ll love you too, amor,” Carlos assured you. “They all will. You’re going to fit right in.” You took a deep breath and nodded hesitantly.

“Do you really think that they’ll like me? You’re not just saying it?” You asked. Carlos reached up and pushed a hair out of your eyes. 

“Yes, mi amor. I have no worries. They will love you almost as much as I do,” he assured you. “We’re meeting them in an hour.” Your heart leapt in your chest. Meeting your boyfriend’s parents with one hour notice wouldn’t have been your first plan, but it didn’t give you much time to worry. When you arrived at the restaurant Carlos Sr., Reyes, and Blanca were all there already. You weren’t late, but the idea that you had kept them waiting already had you expecting that they hated you. Instead when you walked up Reyes wrapped you in a hug, quickly followed by her husband and daughter. 

“Y/N! It is so good to meet you,” Reyes greeted. Reyes hugged her son as Blanca kissed your cheeks. “Ella es muy bonita, Carlito,” Reyes praised her son. 

“My son never stops talking about you,” Carlos Sr. said as you sat down. “He tells us all about your job.” You looked at Carlos, a bashful expression spreading over your face. 

“Yes, I love my job. It’s not quite as exciting as being a racecar driver, but I like it,” you said. 

“I’ve asked him some questions, but I’m not sure he listens to you as well as he should…” Carlos Sr. proceeded to ask you about your career, clearly impressed by the fact that you were so advanced in your field. Blanca quickly took to you, her sense of humor matching yours–similar to her brother. Reyes didn’t say much but as she watched her son fawn over you, she didn’t find the need to ask you anything. 

“Do you want the last bite?” Carlos held out a forkful of chocolate cake to you. You smiled and let him feed it to you. 

“Thank you, my love,” you gushed before kissing his cheek. As sick as the sight made her, Blanca couldn’t help but be happy for her brother. Reyes and Carlos Sr. had knowing smiles on their faces as they watched their son. You were the one. They knew it just as well as their son did. Carlos Sr. paid for the meal before Carlos pulled your chair out for you, offering his arm to you as you exited the restaurant. Reyes and Blanca were chatting with you about where you would meet in the paddock tomorrow as Carlos went up to the valet stand with his father. The two of them handed their tickets to the valet before he walked off to get their cars. Carlos was watching you laugh with his mom and sister, his father observing the way his son stared at you so fondly. 

“Don’t mess it up with this one,” Carlos Sr. warned his son. “You’re never going to do better.” Carlos looked over at his dad and chuckled. 

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Carlos assured his father. Carlos opened your car door for you before all of you headed out. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” You called to Carlos’ family through the open car window. Carlos smiled to himself before reaching over and innocently resting his hand on your leg as he drove back to the hotel. 

“I told you that they would love you,” Carlos teased you. 

“You were nervous when you met my parents,” you reminded him with a huff. 

“Your dad is scary,” Carlos said. 

“I told you that he would like you though,” you replied. 

“And you were right. And I was right that my family would like you,” Carlos said. “We are just one big happy family.” You giggled. 

“We’re family?” You asked softly. 

“Yes,” Carlos said firmly. “Soon enough it will be legal too.” You looked at Carlos with wide eyes. 

“What?” Your voice was small and hopeful. Carlos smirked. 

“I thought I could adopt you,” he said. “Charles and Oscar made it seem fun.” You laughed at him. Carlos pulled up to the hotel. 

“I don’t need to be adopted though. I’ve got parents,” you teased as Carlos helped you from his car. He smiled as he wound his fingers between yours. His fingertip rubbed against the empty spot on your left ring finger that would be occupied soon enough. 

“That’s okay,” Carlos assured you. “I can think of another way to make you my family."

[nomazee]

Um hello! Is the 1k event thingy still up?? If so I would like to request a classmate! Dr ratio x reader at 2:47 am?

it's actually sickening how much fun i had with this i was giggling at my own jokes while typing this out... this was so fun to write THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING!!!

my 1k event!

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A blaring, aggravating, shrill sound wakes you up. Your hands go to cover your ears, protecting your sanity from the noise ringing somewhere from the tangle of sheets on your bed. Hands flailing around desperately to find the source of the piercing chimes, you writhe around in agony until you finally latch onto your phone. 

The brightness of the screen digs into your corneas as you lift up the device to see the caller ID of whoever had the guts to bother you on a school night. 

It comes to no surprise that the caller name reads “VERITAS FUCKING RATIO” in all caps with no contact photo. Your eye twitches and the grip on your phone tightens, just a hair away from leaving finger-shaped dents in the metal. 

Begrudgingly, you answer the call, tucking the phone next to your ear with nothing less than displeasure. “Veritas. Why are you calling me at—” you pull your phone back to check, “—almost three in the morning?” 

“The works cited page,” Veritas Fucking Ratio informs you matter-of-factly. There’s no hint of sleepiness in his voice, nothing that could possibly chip away at his good image, of course. “You did it in the wrong format. It’s supposed to be APA. This is a science project, not a literature project.” 

You might kill him. The project in question is to be presented tomorrow— today at ten in the morning. Ratio and you had been working on it for an entire two weeks, broken up into intermittent hour-long sessions because he was adamant that you split up the work instead of rushing to do it all the night before. Stupid self-righteous gorgeous beautiful academic genius-freak. Yeah, it definitely helped you in the long run, but he acted so sanctimonious about it that you refused to admit the benefits. 

“Veritas,” you imbue the syllables of his name with poison, as much as you can when you’re swaying as you sit up on your bed and fighting demons to not fall back asleep. “This is such an easily-fixed thing. Do you know what time it is right now? Why are you even awake? You know, I am supposed to get a full seven hours of sleep every night, and I was already cutting it short today, and you woke me up before I could even hit REM sleep. Do you know how upsetting this is? Fix the goddamn works cited yourself!” 

For once, Veritas is at a loss for words. The other end of the line is so quiet that you have to double check and make sure he hasn’t just hung up on you. Perspiration builds on your palms, thinking that this is it—this is the exact moment that you make Veritas-Fucking-Ratio snap and delete your name off the project credit slide, and you’re going to get a 0 because he will wipe off any evidence of your work from this plane of existence, and you will spend the rest of your measly life chasing after your MLA-turned-APA works cited page, too-little-too-late. 

“I’m awake because the— well.” He pauses, and his voice sounds so far away and unobtrusive that you’re almost worried. Your breath stills in the middle of your diaphragm. Waiting. “The works cited is one thing. But I wanted you to look at the slides, if you can.” 

If you can, he says, as if he’s giving you a choice, which he literally never has during this entire process. You had no role in choosing the topic, or the slide theme, or what days you worked on the project, or how often you worked on the project (because god forbid you procrastinate a little bit, right?!), but now, at almost three in the morning, Veritas is saying something along the lines of oh please my dearest project partner, I request that you open the Google Slides at once, but only if you would like to! I would never infringe on your free will at three in the morning, because I respect you as a partner. Or something like that. That was pretty much the gist of it. 

A raspy sigh escapes you, and you claw your busted laptop off the nightstand next to you, opening it up and squinting at the LED screen as you punch in your passcode. “You know, I have done a good job at going along with all of your whims, Veritas, the least you could do is fix the works cited for me. Seriously, how did you even miss that? You’re so detail-oriented, but you didn't even realize the format was wrong until tonight? Who even cares, seriously… it’s just a slideshow…” 

Your voice trails off as the slideshow presentation finally loads in. You see Veritas’ default profile picture blink in the upper right-hand corner, signaling that he’s viewing the slideshow with you. The slideshow which has apparently undergone a huge makeover. 

It’s—pleasant to look at. This entire time, you and Veritas had been editing a default, white-background black-serif-font-text slideshow. He refused to change it, telling you that it’s unprofessional to do anything too embellished, to which you fruitlessly said, Veritas, we will die early deaths because of the hole in the ozone layer, would you at least make it easier on my poor soul by letting me choose a pokemon-theme slide? Veritas had pretended like he couldn't hear you (in a very quiet library room, mind you), but the twitch in his brow gave him away. 

Now, though, the slides are decorated. It’s a really nice theme, complete with custom icons and graphic blobs of color—your favorite color, might you add. It’s—pretty. Dare you say, cute, but you think Veritas would vaporize your entire presentation if you called it cute. 

“Did you— this— did you pay for this slide theme?” 

“You— n— mn,” he trails off into an unintelligible mash of mumbling, and you hear a loud THUD that sounds awfully like the phone being thrown onto a mattress. Fabric shuffles around, before you hear Veritas’ voice again, clear and composed. “Sorry. I dropped my phone.” What a loser, and a liar, and an endearing freak. You really wish he video called you because you need to see his totally-very-ugly face. 

“I thought this was unprofessional, Veritas,” you say teasingly, a smile lining your words as you try not to giggle right into the phone. “What made you have a change of heart?” 

“Nothing,” the typical firmness of his voice has returned, much to your dismay. “The works cited is still wrong. You have to fix it.” 

“Oh, whatever you say, honored Ratio,” you open up your trusty citation-generator, ready for a long fifteen minutes of copying and pasting information. “Hey, you must be free after class tomorrow, right? Since the project is pretty much over, right?” 

“Yes,” Veritas answers after a moment of hesitation, only a hint of doubt in his voice. 

“That’s great. Keep your schedule clear, then.” 

(You fix the works cited slide, wish Veritas sweet dreams, and then wake up in the morning to completely ace your presentation. The minute the period ends, you drag him out of the classroom and into a coffee shop, paying for some five dollar pastry and joking that it’s payback for the cute slideshow theme that he definitely paid five dollars for. Veritas is an awful liar, and you tell him that, and he can’t even find the strength to deny it.)

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gen taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin

fill out my event taglist (pinned) or general taglist (navi) to be tagged in upcoming works!

[bloodyhoon]

7 minutes in heaven. [pt. 2]

pairing: fuck boy! sim jake x female! reader.

genre: smut.

warnings: virgin reader, slight jealousy and possessive jake, kissing, handjob, blowjob, dirty talk and idk what more. english is not my first language so there may be grammal or spelling errors.

words: 3.4K

part 3.

Your mind couldn't stop projecting the moments of your night with Jaeyun in the closet of your best friend's house. When you left that small space, everyone bombarded the two of you with questions and you wanted to die from all the attention on you, thirsty to create gossip with details. You had to put on a good show and make the occasional sarcastic comment about how it wasn't a big deal, earning you a laugh from Jaeyun who just shrugged his shoulders with a knowing smile on his face and sat back down with the rest of the group without commenting on it, leaving everyone around wanting to know more.

Of course Yena, your best friend, knew all the details of what had happened and encouraged you to repeat it if you had the opportunity because you had told her that Jaeyun had been good to you and you were comfortable and happy talking about it, she also noticed, while you gave her details of everything you had experienced, how your eyes were bright with emotion and something else.

A new small party was happening again, this time the owner of the house was Jaeyun himself and again Yena, Heeseung -almost her boyfriend- and you were hanging around the place enjoying the alcohol and music. Of course it was not a small party and people were packed into the big house, wandering drunk through the halls and dancing to the music that came from the speakers connected in the living room of the house. You walked away from Yena and her boy, not wanting to witness how they were now making out on the couch where you had been sitting hanging out and you walked through the house at a relaxed pace with a plastic cup wobbly in your hand while you felt how the alcohol slowly rose to your head and loosened your entire body. When you entered the hallway that led to the rooms, where there were no people annoying, you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist and stop you from continuing on your way, you turned and gave a smile to the boy who now stood in front of you.

"I was waiting to see you here." The boy's seductive voice filled your ears and you smiled, feeling a little tipsy, letting yourself be held by the waist and your body pressed against his. That was the voice of Park Jongseong, one of the hottest boys in your school, part of the group of fuck boys that consisted of him, Heeseung, Jaeyun, and another boy named Sunghoon, who was a little more reserved and was a little harder to find at those types of parties.

"And why did you expect to see me?" You rested your free hand on his shoulder and moved a little closer to him when his arms on your waist tightened a little. His touch on your body did nothing in you compared to the last boy who had touched you.

"Do you want me to show you better?" The boy had a seductive and defiant smile firmly on his face as his eyes went from your face to your body, which was barely covered by a pretty revealing dress. You knew each other and had exchanged one than another provocative comment and some indecent friction at other parties, but it had never gone further. Normally in those situations you used to fool around a little, make out with him for a while, letting him touch you subtly, and then play hard to get, saying that maybe next time you would give him what he wanted. Some idiots chose to invent that they had taken you to bed and others just waited excitedly for you to come back to them, but you never came back. When the boy grabbed your jaw, lifting your face to his level, he moved closer to kiss you, but the call of someone behind you stopped him instantly.

"Y/n" the voice behind you was calm and relaxed, waiting to get your gaze. You, still holding onto the other boy, turned your face and found Jaeyun a few meters away from you. His posture was relaxed with his hands stuffed in the front pockets of his pants, looking only at you. Being the contract to his posture, her gaze was dark and heavy, reflecting something that you couldn't understand but that made your heartbeat accelerate a little.

"Hello, Jaeyun" you gave him an almost indifferent smile and looked back at Jongseong, but he was no longer smiling at you and even his grip on you had loosened. "What were we talking about?" you asked him. You noticed that his gaze now went from Jaeyun to you and you didn't understand what had happened to make him change his attitude so quickly.

Jaeyun had headed to the hallway where he had seen you walking, knowing that minutes before Jongseong had also gone down that same hallway. He knew his friend's intentions with you and he was not the one to interfere, but he couldn't bear the idea that his friend flirted with you and sweetened your ear to end up taking you with him to one of the empty rooms. He also had the thought that you wouldn't know how to refuse to do something with him, because he was sure that you would refuse. For some reason he felt that he already read you perfectly and he loved that, it made him feel like he was beginning to know you more and that he knew more about your personality than the other idiots who went around talking shit about you.

"You know, man" Jaeyun walked past you and looked at his friend. "I need to talk to her."

"Sure" to your surprise, Jongseong let go of you without hesitation and took a step back, making way for Jaeyun to approach you and he began to walk away little by little. "Let's talk later Y/n" He desperately wanted to sound casual, but his tone was tense and doubtful. Something told you that you two would never speak again. When he walked away completely and left the two of you alone, only the music could be heard over everything while Jaeyun had his gaze on you, waiting for something from you.

"What's wrong?" you asked, avoiding his gaze and bringing yours to the colored wall next to you. When he was close enough to you, his hand went up to your face, holding you very delicately, as if with his grip he could break you, and made you look him in the eyes.

"Do you want to come with me?" You knew that question suggested many things, you knew it by the way he looked at you and his body had leaned towards you, waiting for you to say yes. His eyes looked at you expectantly and his hand moved from your jaw to your cheek, caressing it. You swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous and intimidated by the boy's calmness, and nodded without thinking. You had been waiting for this moment since Yena had told you about this party. He just held your hand and after a few steps, he opened the door to one of the rooms in the hallway where you were walking, making you enter first and then entering and closing the door behind him.

You looked around the room quickly, a white room with some black details, a desk with a computer in the corner and a large bed in the center covered by a seemingly soft black blanket, nothing very flashy but strangely cozy. You abandoned your inspection of the room and saw how the boy, after closing the door, approached you at a slow pace. You remained motionless in your place until he was in front of you and took the plastic cup you were holding, setting it aside and this time replacing it with one of his hands.

"What were you planning to do with Jongseong?" His tone of voice was low and calm, but it was cold, sending shivers down your spine. "He's no good for you, Y/n."

"And who if it is?" The question caught him off guard and you could tell by the way his gaze changed, he blinked quickly a couple of times and cleared his throat, then looked down at his hands and intertwined his fingers with yours.

"He only wants you for your body, baby." His touch was warm and soft, considering his words weren't exactly gentle. "But he will never be able to make you feel the way you want and deserve." His words were cold, but they warmed your heart in a way you didn't understand. His entire presence overwhelmed you, making you completely nervous and making you wait for his next move, wanting him to do whatever he wanted with you.

"You would." the words came out of you without you thinking about them and that made him look at you, he gave you a small smile before putting his hands on your waist and stepping back in place, making you follow him. A few steps and he dropped his body sitting on the bed behind him, he then took you by the waist and forced you to straddle him, you holding onto his shoulders firmly. His hands intertwined on your lower back.

"You're beautiful" he declared, looking into your eyes "And I was going crazy watching how Jongseong had his hands on you, you have no idea." His arms around you tightened along with those words and you waited for him to say something else. "I don't know why, but lately I can't stand the thought of someone touching you or telling you how beautiful you are. Only I want to do it and when someone else gets close to you, I want to take you with me away from any idiot." Your heart beat hard against your chest with each of his words and your head spun, but this time it wasn't because of the alcohol in your blood. It was because of him. Your gaze traveled from his eyes to his lips, wanting to feel them on yours again like the last time, and he seemed like he had really learned to read your body language because without the need for words, he approached your face and captured your lips. A sweet kiss with a gentle rhythm had begun, but you couldn't stay with that and not have more of him, so you brought your hands to the back of his head and kissed him firmly, opening your mouth slightly so that both of your tongues would touch each other. It was also difficult for Jaeyun to just kiss you without putting his hands on you, so he agreed to deepen that kiss and his hands ran all over your torso gently, digging his fingers into your skin and making you gasp. His lips moved from yours to your neck and collarbones, lightly biting your skin and making you gently tug his hair.

"Jaeyun-" you didn't know what you meant exactly, but you felt the need to let his name fall from between your lips like a prayer. You felt his lips on your skin letting out a small smile.

"What do you want?" he asked you, his hands did not leave your body and his lips were on yours again, leaving kisses as he waited for your response.

"Do you remember the-" your words were interrupted by his lips not wanting to leave yours. "Do you remember the last time?" you asked, shyness beginning to present itself in your body at the memory and also at what you were thinking.

"I remember it every minute, wishing it would happen again." He declared without shame and without hesitation, his lips beginning to form a smile. You swallowed and took a deep breath as you formulated the sentences in your head as the boy waited. for you. "Is there anything you want to tell me?" he prompted you to speak, you nodded slowly.

"I still want to do something for you" you looked him in the eyes, showing complete seriousness and confidence. Your hands that were on his shoulders, slid down his arms and then you took your body off his, forcing him to remove his hands from your body.

"Y/n, no-" you chose to kiss him so that he wouldn't continue talking and make you more nervous than you already were. You were more than sure of what you wanted to do next so after that kiss, Jaeyun watched your every movement with great attention since you separated from his lips, got off his lap and dropped to your knees between his legs, looking with innocent and curious eyes at the growing bulge in his pants while your hands rested on his thighs. He felt his cock jerk when your gaze fell on it, he couldn't believe you were between his legs about to touch him and him being the first man you did something like that to. He also couldn't believe that he was the first man who had touched you indecently, making you lose your mind and that you wanted to be in that situation with him.

"So pretty." He brought a hand to your face and caressed your cheek. "Are you sure?" You looked up and he felt faint when you looked at him through your eyelashes with your cheeks flushed and nodded several times. "Say it."

"I want to make you feel good" you managed to say those words without hesitation, he then nodded and gently brushed away the hair that fell in your face.

"Okay, baby. If you want to stop, just do it, don't worry." he spoke, searching uselessly for your gaze that had returned to his body. You didn't listen to what he was telling you, you just pressed your hands against his thighs and went straight up to unbutton his pants and free his throbbing cock. Jaeyun let out a hiss through clenched teeth as your fingers took his cock hesitantly, brushing lightly over the top. When you heard him, you moved your hand away and he grabbed your wrist quickly, bringing your hand back to his cock. "It's okay, don't worry, keep going." you nodded and went back to what you were doing.

"Tell me what to do." Your look and hesitant words drove him crazy, he wanted to ruin you. He wanted to take your body and position it under his, listening to you moan his name over and over again. Jaeyun brought a hand to your soft hair and stroked it.

“Just keep going, gently, ah-” the words got stuck in his throat as you, following your instinct, ran your hand up and down his length with just enough pressure to make him moan softly. You felt a little uncomfortable since it was the first time you touched someone like that, but seeing how his lips tightened and his eyes closed gave you a little confidence to continue with your movements. Finding yourself in front of his big, glistening, hard cock, you swallowed hard and without stopping stroking it, you leaned forward, giving the tip a small lick. You felt his hand on your hair tremble and you noticed out of the corner of your eye how he threw his head back sighing, completely losing himself.

"Damn, Y/n" his hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, guiding you back to his cock. You parted your lips and wrapped them over the tip of his member while your hand stroked the rest of him at a steady pace, your teeth grazed him lightly and his eyes rolled back in his head along with the moan that escaped his lips. Your knees on the floor closed and you clenched your thighs involuntarily at that image and the sounds that the boy made. "Jesus Christ, fuck" his hand on the back of your neck pushed your head involuntarily and you choked a little. Jaeyun didn't pay attention to the involuntary movements of his hands because at that moment he was completely lost in the feeling of your warm mouth wrapped around his cock and your hand caressing him, finding it incredible that this was your first time doing that. He swallowed hard and focused on the pleasure that your mouth gave him, feeling that if you continued like this he would cum quickly in your mouth as if it were his first time receiving a blowjob. "Wait Y/n" you moved your mouth away from his member and raised your head, looking at him with your teary eyes. Jaeyun couldn't help but feel his heartbeat speed up and he held your face in his hands, caressing your cheeks.

"Did I do something wrong?" Your voice sounded a little raspy. You were worried, since it was your first time maybe you were being a complete mess and it bothered him. The boy shook his head several times while his thumb ran over your lower lip.

"No, it's perfect. You're perfect." His simple words gave you immense peace of mind and you decided to go back to what you were doing. Just give him pleasure. The feeling of having him in your mouth hitting the back of your throat and making you choke and shed tears was too much for you, but you didn't care because you just wanted to make him feel good, so you continued at your pace when you heard him moan and squirm in his place. "If you keep this up, I'll cum in your pretty mouth." You flattened your tongue against his member, moaning at his words, Jaeyun could feel that vibration running through the entire length of his member. “shit, keep going please” his voice was trembling and low while his hand returned to your hair and you bobbed your head at a slightly faster. "Baby, you're going to make me cum" he warned you, but you didn't care and still with your eyes full of tears and fighting your gag reflex, you took as much of him as you could into your mouth, Jaeyun let out a loud moan, avoiding with everything in him from thrusting his hips into your face. "God, baby, you're so good" his head was spinning and the knot in his stomach grew with your movements that were beginning to speed up, his words echoed inside you and you felt the wetness between your legs increase. "I-I'm going to cum" he said, you hollowed your cheeks and that was his downfall, his fingers tangled in your hair pulling a little making you whine and you closed your eyes receiving the salty and bitter taste of his fluids flooding into your mouth. Moans came from deep in his throat as his head hung back with his eyes squeezed shut, lost in pleasure, this having probably been the best blowjob he could have ever received. "Holy shit, you're so good at this, thank you god" some gibberish left his lips as he recovered from his orgasm, removing his cock from your mouth and leaving a trail of saliva down your chin. Jaeyun looked at you and the image seemed extremely hot to him, your eyes wide and filled with tears while a trace of black mascara ran down your cheeks, your lips were shiny and swollen and your hair was somewhat tangled because of him. “You're so fucking beautiful.” He smiled at you and his tongue ran over his bottom lip, his eyes were slightly half-closed feeling completely relaxed. He pulled your body making you stand up and return to his lap.

“Was it okay?” you asked with a little discomfort with yourself as you fell straddling him. Jaeyun looked at you almost admiringly as he caressed your face and gently combed your tangled hair. As he looked at every corner of your face, his hands went down to your thighs caressing them tenderly, he didn't want to move, he didn't want you to get away from him and he didn't want to let you go. He didn't know if he felt that way because of the immense pleasure you had just made him feel or if his way of seeing you really changed because of the simple but intimate moments you had shared.

"More than okay" he agreed, reassuring you. "Your mouth is wonderful" he complimented. For some reason you blushed at the comment and avoided his gaze, focusing on his chest that was still rising and falling a little irregularly. "Listen to me Y/n" he demanded your attention, bringing a hand to your cheek and you looked at him still feeling shy to look him in the eyes by choice.. "Next time-" his other hand caressed your thigh gently, making your skin crawl, wanting to calm you down as he noticed the nerves in your body again. "I will make you mine" It wasn't a simple comment and you knew he was serious so your stomach flipped and your body trembled. He looked at you expectantly, his gaze telling you that you could refuse if you wanted, but you didn't say anything about it because you agreed with his sudden decision. You looked into his eyes, squeezing his shoulders with your trembling hands, but you nodded at his words without needing to speak and he nodded too, smiling at you and moving closer to kiss you.

part one had a lot of impact, thank you very much for all your responses and reblogs🫶🏻 and thank you for the 300 followers!

okay so should I write a part 3? for some reason I like writing this story.

tags: @secretlyapartofthisfandom @icepshrince @laurradoesloveu @sunpov @simhinata @irenereiii @primroselover @jakehooni @lycxee @kumiyoe @kashuannn @jaeyunpinkyring

there are some people that idk why but I couldn't tag 💔, I mentioned them anyway.

[moonstruckme]

hey lovely! if you’re up to it, would you be able to write something w james or remus with comforting a reader who’s insecure about her skin/having broken out? i’m totally not projecting (i get chronic rashes on my face and one broke out recently and it’s making me sooo self conscious because my birthday is soon and i wanted to feel pretty 😖)

thank you!! mwah!!!

xoxo @mareagirls

Hi Rosa my love! Thank you for requesting and happy early birthday!!

cw: reader is insecure about her skin

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 750 words

You scrub at your skin with your fingertips, pads pressing harshly as you distribute the cleanser over your face. Then turn the tap as cold as it can go, splashing water and scrubbing again to make sure the product is all gone. 

“Alright, enough of that,” says Remus as you towel your face dry. You look up to see your boyfriend watching you in the mirror from the bedroom. He tents his book beside him on the bed, beckoning you over. “Come here, bring your stuff.” 

You turn around to look at him. “Why?” 

You can see Remus intentionally smoothing the pique from his expression, gentling it into something kinder. “Just come sit with me, please.” 

You gather your things off the bathroom counter, carrying them into the bedroom and plopping down in front of him on the bed. Remus knows your routine. He takes a washcloth from you wordlessly, wetting it with product. 

“Close your eyes.” 

You do, and he starts swiping the product gently over your skin, starting at your jawline and working his way slowly upwards, following the planes of your face. His free hand is wrapped loosely around the side of your neck to steady the both of you. 

“Why are you doing this?” you murmur, trying not to move your face as you speak. 

“Couldn’t stand seeing you look so angry with yourself,” Remus replies, matching your volume. His voice is low and raspy, inlaid still with traces of frustration. You hadn’t realized you had been looking like that. “S’like you’ve no idea how pretty you are.” 

There’s a thick pause. The washcloth shushes over the skin of your forehead, and you can feel Remus’ gaze boring into your shuttered lids. 

“I know you think I just say that,” he says, setting the washcloth down on your leg. You open your eyes, and he’s squirting moisturizer onto the pad of his index finger. His eyes flit up to yours, the color of honey or perfectly steeped tea. You look away. “I don’t. I wouldn’t bother saying anything if you weren’t as lovely as you are, and it’s insane that you don’t know it yourself. I mean, we’re looking at the same face, aren’t we?” 

Your lips twist upwards as you close your eyes and Remus sets his hands to your face again. He smooths the moisturizer into your skin with thorough, loving strokes. 

“I do feel pretty, sometimes,” you admit. “Just not so much when my skin is acting up like this.” 

“Not sure how that changes anything.” His voice is gruff, audibly judgemental in the way you’re sure only he can manage. It coaxes a soft laugh from you, and Remus’ thumb swipes extra affectionately over your cheekbone, approving. His tone lightens. “Really, dove, it’s not like the rest of you just disappears because you’ve broken out. You’re just as lovely. I’m not sure anything could change that, short of reconstructive surgery I suppose.” 

You roll your eyes. They’re still closed, but you hope he sees the motion anyway. “You’re being too nice to me. I know it’ll go away eventually, but it’s still not the same as when my skin is clear.” 

“It’s not,” Remus allows. “Of course it’s not the same. But that’s like saying I’m not the same with my scars as I was without them. And I still managed to snag you all mangled-looking.” 

You open your eyes, despite his hands still moving over your face. “You’re not mangled-looking,” you say. You know Remus knows this, but it feels important to tell him anyway. “I love you with your scars.” 

He smiles softly, and you close your eyes again, satisfied. “Then you see what I’m getting at,” he says. “I love you like this, just the same as when your skin looked a bit different.” His touch arcs over your eyebrow. “And everyone else loves you just the same, too.” 

You hum, a pleased sort of capitulation. “You’re such a sweet talker.” 

“Doesn’t take much imagination to tell the truth.” You can hear Remus’ smile. “You’re always lovely, dove, but I like you best when you look like you feel lovely, too.”

“I’ll try,” you say. He hums satisfiedly, thumbs brushing twin paths across your cheeks. “Is there really still product to rub in?” 

“Mm, not strictly speaking.” Remus’ lips press, soft and sweet, to your freshly moisturized cheek. He doesn’t seem to mind the bumps. “But I think I’d better do this a while longer just to be sure.” 

[tenelkadjowrites]

Nasty - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

🪟 Summary: Finding comfort in the windows of the apartment building across from yours, your attention is drawn to one housing an attractive new neighbor, Seonghwa, who quickly notices your interest.

🪟 Word count: 7.2k

🪟 Genre & Warnings: one shot smut. neighbors to lovers (kinda). reader is drunk at one point (not in smut scene.) dirty talk. unprotected sex, creampie. oral sex (reader receiving). fingering. choking and hair pulling (hwa receiving). shower sex.

this fic is not meant to represent seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

               You look up from your laptop, yawning and stretching out your legs. It’s almost ten at night and you’ve lost track of time working on your latest project. The beginning of a headache is brewing, signaling that it is now a good place to stop for the night and make something to eat.

               Even so, you linger, propping your chin against the palm of your hand to idly stare out the window of your apartment which looks directly at another building. You’ve come to find comfort in most of the them – the one that always has various plants vying for the sunlight, another that switches between blue and pink hues of colour late at night, even the window that is usually shuttered – all of these have become friends in a way. You may not know a single person in the building across from yours in any real sort of capacity but you are familiar with the residents all the same.

               This familiarity is how you notice a change immediately. One window, usually empty, is now showing light spilling across cardboard boxes and a couch positioned haphazardly in the centre of the room. A new tenant must have moved in. You continue to watch, your mind wandering with all the things you need to do tomorrow when someone enters the space of the window.

               You are so used to seeing snapshots of stranger’s lives in whatever the window shows that the rare occasion an actual person appears, you’re promptly jolted out of your daydreaming.

               A slender man is opening one of the boxes, leaning forward to rummage through it. Multiple necklaces dangle off his neck, which he brushes out of his way impatiently while searching. His hair is swept up in a small ponytail. The man finds whatever he is looking for, straightening up. He’s tall, wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a tight fitting black t-shirt. Then, he’s gone, out of frame.

               You watch curiously for a couple of seconds before losing interest, turning back to your own life, to your own thoughts.

*

               The second time you see the man is a week later when you are tidying up one evening. You happen to look up right when he is crossing the living room. He’s in a sleeveless tank top, well toned arms exposed. His features are blurry due to distance, like looking at something underwater, and then he is gone again.

               Even though it was only a split second, you realize that your heartrate is accelerated. How silly, you chastise, he’s a hazy figure in another building. With a small shake of your head, you turn back to your chores.

*

               Sighing, you turn off the TV, debating just going to bed. Of course, the moment you have some free time from work, you don’t know what to do with yourself. The long list of things to do seems overwhelming but doing anything fun is just as exhausting which results in spending five hours on the couch, watching bad reality shows.

               Now, it is a little after midnight and you cannot help but feel as though the day was wasted. Propping yourself up off the couch, you look out your window, mulling over everything. You aren’t truly paying attention to the collection of windows and that is why you don’t notice him at first.

               In fact, it isn’t until there is a flash of fabric that you sit up a little straighter. The new guy is in the window, yanking his shirt off and tossing it onto the couch. Even though he is far away, and most details are impossible to make out, the distance doesn’t hide how lithe he is nor how in shape. You swallow hard, unable to tear your eyes away for the few seconds he is in frame. I really need to get laid, you think, I’ve been too busy with work and now here I am, gawking at a guy in another apartment building so far away that it looks as if it’s a grainy JPEG.

               Even so, you remain staring at the window, hoping he comes back…and he does, this time with a beer in hand. He’s still shirtless, taking a swig from the drink and turning on the TV. Your eyes rake up along his body, wishing you were just a little closer to make out more of the details. His hair remains in a ponytail, and his pants are tight – they actually look like leather which you can’t imagine wearing.

               At that moment, the man turns to look out the window. Feeling confident in the fact he wouldn’t notice you at this distance, you squint, trying to get a better look at his features.

               That’s when he lifts his hand up and mockingly salutes you.

               With a gasp, you panic and duck back down on the couch out of his view. Immediately after doing so, you curse aloud, wondering why you would do something so foolish. You could have played it off as though you were looking elsewhere and pretended you didn’t even notice him. But to hide like this…well now, this guy knows you were staring at him like a Peeping Tom.

               Mortification sits in as you lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling. What now? Well, you’ll have to keep the blinds closed forever, obviously. The chance of ever making eye contact with him again would be so embarrassing that it is time to think of your window being deleted, like an item in The Sims.

               Covering your face with your hands, you groan. Why did you check him out for such an extended period? How long did he know you were doing it to make fun of you like that? Ugh.

               After about twenty minutes of verbally berating yourself, you carefully poke your head out to look at the window. There is no sign of him but he hadn’t closed the blinds either. Quickly, you scamper over and close yours, letting out a small sigh of relief.

               It is definitely time for bed.

*

               Two weeks later, you’re in the grocery store, staring at the various options of oat milk and feeling overwhelmed. This was how you spent most days now – in a state of overwhelm: with work, keeping friendships up, with whatever the concept of being an adult meant.

               “I prefer the one on the top shelf, myself. With the red cap. I think it tastes a little sweeter.”

               It takes your brain a few long seconds to realize someone is speaking to you. Surprised, you look to your side and then promptly make a strangled noise in the back of your throat.

               It’s Hot Window Guy only this time he isn’t a blurry figure but in perfect clarity in front of you. You recognize him by the ponytail and his slender figure. Momentarily frozen, all you can do is stare. He is tall, wearing a baggy black t-shirt that has a faded logo on it. His jeans hang off his hips, ripped at the knees. His fingers are dotted with small tattoos. His brows are immaculate, like something you usually see in YouTube makeup videos, and his facial features look to be made of marble. The bridge of his nose is long, a distinctive part of his face, with full plump lips.

               There is even a striking tattoo on his neck, two black vines curling around his skin, dotted with bright drops of colour on the red roses. Seeing someone so striking against the backdrop of a generic grocery store, under the harsh fluorescents while top forty radio plays, feels jarring.

               “What?” You finally reply. Great, amazing, really killed it with that one.

               Hot Window Guy points to the assortment of oat milks. “That one, with the red cap. It’s the best one here,” When you don’t reply, he explains, “You’ve been standing here for five minutes so I figured I’d help you out.”

               “How do you know I’ve been here for five minutes?”

               “I saw you when I first turned in this direction. I grabbed my items, which takes me roughly five minutes because I get the same stuff almost every time and when I circled back, you’re still standing here.” He frowns. “Actually, it could be longer than five minutes since you were standing here when I entered, now that I think about it.”

               You yank open the door and snatch the oat milk with the red lid off the shelf, unable to look him in the face again. He’s just too attractive. Why is he talking to you? Does he not realize you were gawking at him through the windows a couple weeks ago?

               “Great, well, thank you,” You say quickly, ready to bolt, “Thanks for the help.”

               “You live in the building across from mine, right? I recognize you from through the window.”

               Your face is warm. You’re pretending to rearrange things in your shopping basket even though all you have is oat milk and some coffee. “Yup, yup.”

               There is a hint of amusement in his next sentence. “You’ve kept the blinds closed since I saluted you. You ever gonna open them again?”

               You think about lying, pretending to have no idea what he is talking about. But you know he would see right through it. Instead, you force yourself to look at him. God, he’s hot, you think, trying to wrangle your brain under control.

               “I was embarrassed that you saw me looking and I was worried I looked creepy.”

               “You stare in everyone’s windows like that?”

               “I wasn’t – I was just looking out my own window and you came into view, that’s it. It wasn’t…it’s not like a kink of mine,” Immediately embarrassed at saying the word kink, you keep blathering, “Like, it isn’t a habit. I just…we all have windows. I was looking out mine.”

               “Right, directly into mine. When I was shirtless.”

               You exhale slowly, feeling incredibly flustered. You manage to look at his face although it is like staring at the sun. He is fighting off a smirk, his basket of items pressed against his hip.

               “What’s your name?” He prompts and after you give yours, he says, “I’m Seonghwa.”

               You nod, taking a step back. It isn’t that you don’t want to be around him – it is simply that he is too attractive and you’re too desperate. He’ll notice and that will be even more embarrassing.

               “Alright, nice meeting you. Bye!” You say quickly, shuffling away from the gorgeous man with the neck tattoo and all the overwhelming variations of oat milk.

*

               But your curiosity gets the best of you and later that night, the blinds seem to beckon. It would be so easy to open them again because since Seonghwa teased you about how they are now always closed. Truth be told, you were starting to miss sunlight during the day and the comforting pull of the illuminated windows at night. Admittedly, it is unrealistic to think that you can never open the blinds ever again.

               But it isn’t until almost midnight that you grow the courage to open them. Your eyes immediately check for the usual windows, seeing the familiar sights of multicoloured lights, plants, TVs, and finally Seonghwa’s.

               But it’s dark. He’s either not home or he’s asleep.

               You feel disappointed although you aren’t even sure what you’re expecting. Leaning against the wall, you think back to the exchange in the store. Was he flirting with you? No, you cast that aside. You weren’t the type people flirted with. In your mind, you trace the way the basket rested on his hip, the curve of his neck with his hair swept up, the way his baggy shirt looked on him –

               Phew, you think, knowing that a guy hasn’t impacted you like this in a long time. Your brain is creating an assortment of downright pornographic mental images which forces you to shut the blinds once more, sternly telling yourself to go to bed.

*

               You’re slightly drunk, teetering in your heels after a night out with your friends. The temperature has dropped considerably over the course of the last few hours and your thin sweater is not helping in the slightest. But you’re almost home, having seen your last friend off just down the street.

               It’s easily one in the morning and the city is filled with that energy that only Saturday nights can bring. The relief of blowing off steam, the taste of alcohol burning on the way down, the heat of bodies pressing together in crowded bars – you notice all these things. But, drunk or not, your favourite part is the glow of the city buildings and the sense that no one is ever truly asleep; there is always something going on.

               So, you take your time, soaking in the moment before reality will come crashing in with Sunday morning.

               That’s why you don’t notice Seonghwa.

               But he notices you.

               “Oh, it’s my neighbor,” A voice says while exiting a bar, leading you to stop in your tracks as all the oxygen leaves your lungs. “This is the girl I was telling you about, Hongjoong.”

               You turn to see Seonghwa in an oversized fur coat. His jeans are well worn but he has a black dress shirt on underneath the coat paired with many necklaces and rings on every finger. His hair is slightly messy in the usual ponytail. On anyone else, the outfit would look ridiculous. On Seonghwa, it looks sexy and comfortable.

               His friend is shorter with facial features so delicate you think of glass. His hair is a shock of red, messed up from the night breeze. Wearing a perfectly tailored dark blue blazer with dress pants, he looks like Seonghwa’s complete opposite as though the two men didn’t share the memo on where they would be going that night.

               “Oh, the Peeping Tom?”

               Embarrassed and intoxicated, you make a sputtering noise of protest. Seonghwa nods and moves closer.

               “You going home?” Seonghwa asks.

               You nod and go, “You’re not?”

               “No, we’re just getting started tonight,” Seonghwa lingers on the word and a heat slowly spreads across your body at being so near him combined with the deepness of his voice, “But you still have a bit of a walk back to your place. Want me to take you?”

               “No, no – thank you. I appreciate it. But that won’t – I’m fine.” You’re mostly worried that being drunk around him will lead to embarrassing yourself further.

               You picture wrapping your hands around his neck, covering the tattoo while squeezing. The image is so vivid that your heart skips a beat. Seonghwa has an expression on his face – like he knows what you’re thinking about.

               He shrugs out of his fur coat. “Here, wear this on the walk back.”

               You’re trying to form a coherent sentence but between the booze and how turned on you are, it just comes out as gibberish.

               Seonghwa, misunderstanding you completely, goes, “It’s faux fur.”

               “No, I – won’t you be cold?”

               “Yeah, won’t you be cold?” Hongjoong chimes up mockingly, raising one eyebrow at Seonghwa.

               “If I get cold, you’ll let me wear your blazer,” He replies smoothly.

               Hongjoong looks affronted. “You most certainly will not wear my blazer.”

               But Seonghwa has tuned his friend out, bringing his attention back on you while his hands sweep the coat around your shoulders. It’s comically big on your frame but is incredibly warm. But you’re staring at the motion of his hands as he straightens the coat gently around your neck and shoulders. His rings glitter in the streetlights and he’s wearing a faint cologne that makes your head swim.

               Hongjoong is still complaining but Seonghwa’s face is so close to yours that it is all you can focus on. Your body is practically screaming for him; you wonder how evident it is that you’re desperate to fuck him. You are sure that your breathing is uneven and that you’re staring at his lips.

               “How will I get it back to you?”

               Seonghwa’s voice is soft while replying, “What’s your apartment number?”

               You tell him.

               “I’ll come by tomorrow night for it.”

               You’re too tongue tied to reply, merely nod. Seonghwa straightens up. His shirt fits him perfectly, like a second skin, and you want to peel it off him, run your fingers along his stomach –

               “See you tomorrow.” He says and then just to make fun of you, he gives a small salute before turning and walking away with Hongjoong, leaving you on the sidewalk in his oversized coat among the city lights.

*

               It’s seven in the evening and you’ve been staring at the TV, not registering anything for an hour now. Seonghwa’s coat is in your lap, bunched in between your fingers. He said tomorrow night. Which is tonight. But no stated time. Night would technically indicate before midnight because after midnight, it’s considered morning. But not everyone thinks of it like that. Which would mean maybe the middle of the night. But who just shows up like that in the middle of the night? And why am I jumping to conclusions? He might knock, ask for his coat and leave. Why am I assuming he would stick around?

               Pathetically, though, you do want him to stick around. You want to fuck him, to be blunt about it. You’d settle for making out. Seonghwa makes your head buzz and your thinking muddled. You barely know him but all you can think about is climbing him like a tree.

               This circular thinking occurs for another hour until ten minutes past eight, there is a knock at your door. Jumping up, you catch yourself, count to ten, and then open the door as if you hadn’t been waiting in agony for Seonghwa.

               But there he is, in front of you, in the hallway of your apartment building.

               “Hi,” You say breathlessly.

               Seonghwa wears a pair of dark blue jeans with a thick black belt, a sharp contrast from his golden dress shirt that looks casually tossed on at the last second. The fabric is thin, slightly shiny, and the buttons are fraying. The top of his chest is exposed, the shirt dipping to show off his tanned skin and one silver necklace with a green pendant adorning it. His ponytail is messy, black strands of fine hair framing his pretty face. In the dim lighting of the hallway, you can see the red roses tattooed around his neck with the bright blooms of colour against the vines.

               You sort of feel as though someone has bashed you over the head with a gigantic fish or some other ridiculous object at the sight of him. You were hoping to look casual, as though you’ve given no thought to him coming by, which means you’re wearing just sweatpants and a shirt. Of course, your cutest bra and underwear is on…just in case.

               Seonghwa’s top lip curls slightly, warding off a smirk as he goes, “Hi. It isn’t too late, is it? I had to go out earlier and it was difficult leaving. Hongjoong kept complaining, wanting me to stay.”

               This man could have shown up at four in the morning and you wouldn’t have cared. “No, it’s fine. Would you like to come in?”

               You are hoping he does, worried he will opt just to quickly ask for his coat and leave. To your relief, Seonghwa nods, stepping inside and slipping his shoes off. When he isn’t looking, you exhale slowly in an attempt to wrangle your emotions under control.

               He follows you into the living room where you offer him something to drink and he asks for water. Your place is small, allowing you to see him from the kitchen.

               “Did you come from a party?” You ask, trying to make some sort of conversation.

               “Did the shirt give it away?” He jokes, “I did but we were out so late last night. I didn’t get to bed until almost seven so I left early tonight.”

               “In the morning?” You are shocked – getting home past one last night was late for you.

               Seonghwa gives a small shrug in reply. The shirt is so thin. You’re distracted by the material and how easy it would be to tear it right off him. Returning to the living room, you hand him the glass of water and gingerly sit down on the couch. Seonghwa takes his place next to you.

               You scoop the coat up, handing it to him. He grabs it, his long fingers gripping the fabric. “Thanks for letting me borrow it. You weren’t cold last night?”

               “I wasn’t outside too much. We went to a house party and I didn’t need it there.”

               You get the feeling Seonghwa leads a very different life than yours – one full of parties and who knows what sort of activities.

               “So, you didn’t just move to the city?”

               “No, I’ve lived here my whole life. Just upgrading my place. Although I do need some help decorating it. You should open the blinds again and tell me what you think of the place next time I’m there.”

               You shift nervously, already feeling your cheeks grow warm. He takes a sip of water before resting the glass on the coffee table.

               “Please don’t misunderstand,” You begin to say, “I wasn’t peeping. I just was looking out the window, that’s all. I find it comforting at night. Certain windows become comforting. Like you always know what to expect when you see them. Knowing they are home, hoping they’re having a nice night when they aren’t. Do you know what I mean?”

               Seonghwa tilts his face in your direction. There is an unreadable expression on his face when he replies, “I know what you mean.”

               A quiet moment passes.

               “But you were looking at me. A little longer than you normally would. Weren’t you?”

               “I…” You clear your throat gently. “I was just surprised to see someone half undressed in the window like that.”

               “So, it was just that you were surprised and had nothing to do with me then?”

               You’re torn between throwing yourself at him and hiding under your covers. You get the feeling Seonghwa is good at this, this sort of flirting, this way of wording things and playing coy. You are not especially when the man is as gorgeous as him.

               You make a sort of strange, garbled noise that isn’t actually a word known in any language. Seonghwa grins for a brief moment, shifting slightly so that his knee touches yours. Even though there is no skin to skin contact, it is enough to make your head dizzy.

               “It’s okay,” Seonghwa whispers secretively while tilting his face close to yours, “You can admit it.”

               The tension is so thick that it smothers. Even though you know next to nothing about this man, there is no denying how much you desire him.

               “You’re not usually the type of guy I like,” You mumble.

               He brings his slender fingers, dotted with small tattoos, to your chin, gently bringing your lips ever nearer. His eyes are half lidded, lips barely parting when replying, “What’s your type?”

               “Nice guys.”

               “I’m nice,” Seonghwa replies in that ever deepening voice as the precipice looms.

               His fingers are warm against your chin. His lips are a pretty shade of pink, begging to be kissed. So quietly that you aren’t even sure if he can hear it, you whisper, “I don’t want you to be nice.”

               Seonghwa’s body is shifting in your direction. The coat is forgotten, still in his lap – a paltry excuse to come over and you both knew it. Perhaps the desire to sleep together was always a mutual one. Regardless of when the seed took root, you somehow both knew it would end up right here.

               “What do you want me to be then?” He murmurs, his breath like soft feathers against your lips.

               “I want you to be nasty.” The words land gently in Seonghwa’s lap, a cat laying down for a nap, and the corners of his lips quirk up for a split second in a smile.

               “I can do that,” He replies and kisses you.

               The sensation of his lips overwhelms all your senses. You have no interest in playing coy; your desire for him is too much, too strong. Reaching for his hands, you press them against your body in a silent plea to give you more. Seonghwa obeys, his hands traveling upwards to grope your breasts through your shirt. The kiss deepens and his tongue is in your mouth. You can taste him, crave more of him.

               Your skin is hot and your heart is racing. Your hands grip the front of his shirt, using the last of your self control not to tear the flimsy fabric off his chest. Instead, you bite down on his bottom lip and Seonghwa groans in pleasure. He moves one hand downward to the front of your sweatpants, pressing his palm against your clothed pussy. He rubs it a little, creating enough friction that makes you whimper in his mouth.

               You suck on Seonghwa’s tongue for a couple of seconds which causes him to make a small noise in the back of his throat that does nothing to calm you down. He’s pawing at you now through your clothes and you are gripping his shirt so hard that it is crumpled in your fingers.

               Your underwear is sticking to your pussy from how wet it is and from Seonghwa’s palm pressing there. Thankfully, his hand moves, slipping under the band of your sweatpants. The kisses are growing messy, the urgency at which the two of you want one another threatening to spill over.

               That’s when one of the buttons of his shirt pops off. Surprised, you break the kiss to look down at it in your hand. Seonghwa only laughs as you hastily apologize for ruining his shirt.

               “It’s fine.” He doesn’t seem to care at all, instead his tone indicates amusement. “It’s an old shirt.”

               “Even so, I don’t –” Your sentence is cut off with a moan as Seonghwa brushes his finger across your swollen clit through the front of your underwear.

               “What was that?” He asks.

               Your head is swimming while trying to retrieve the sentence from the haziness of your mind. “I don’t want to ruin your shirt.”

               “You can ruin anything you’d like,” Seonghwa says as his fingers push your underwear to the side. “I don’t mind.”

               Once again, your reply is cut short by Seonghwa deftly rubbing your clit with his index finger. His lips find yours and whatever sentence you could have formed is washed away by how good everything is. He doesn’t stop rubbing your clit, the pace ever increasing, and you realize he is going to make you finish.

               In between kisses, Seonghwa murmurs, “God, you’re fucking soaked.” There is a note of approval in his voice that you instinctively react to, arching your hips slightly.

               Your breathing is uneven as your orgasm draws close. Seonghwa doesn’t stop – to him, it is like making you finish already is just the first step in the night ahead, not the ending event. When you cum, your head rolls back against the couch as he leans down to kiss along your neck, nibbling on your skin.

               Your hips lower back down as you realize he hadn’t removed an inch of clothing to make you climax like that. Seonghwa brings his finger to his lips, licking it clean to taste your pussy. You reach for him, crushing his lips against yours while bringing your hand against the front of his jeans to touch the bulge straining on the denim. Seonghwa inhales sharply. Your impatience is nipping at your heels. You want to feel him inside you; your orgasm did nothing to sate your desire.

               Kicking off your sweatpants, you get in Seonghwa’s lap, tossing the coat to the side. Fiddling with his belt, you grind down on his jeans and he groans again. The belt joins the coat, a small collection of items that are no longer necessary to what is unfolding. It takes only a few extra seconds to free his cock from the confines of his jeans and boxers. Seonghwa shivers at your touch as you grind your pussy against him while hastily unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, exposing his chest.

               He’s in shape, with perfect skin, warm to the touch. The green pendant rests against his skin, cold to the touch when your fingers brush against it. His shirt remains open, hanging off his shoulders. Between all the making out, his hair is messy, the ponytail threatening to come undone.

               Positioning yourself so that the head of his cock is at your entrance with your underwear pushed to the side, you sink down, taking his length easily. Seonghwa is thick, filling your pussy up as you shudder from the intensity. He groans, eyes fluttering for a few seconds as he takes in the sensation of your warm walls around his cock. His hands rest on your hips, waiting for you to get used to him.

               You can’t remember the last time you wanted someone this badly. The fact you know so little about Seonghwa matters not; you are too focused on how sexy he looks and how good it is to have his cock inside your cunt.

               You tentatively rock your hips, enjoying the feeling of being stuffed. Your hand goes down to play with your swollen clit. You’re not even bouncing in his lap, instead marveling at the pleasure of just having him inside you.

               Seonghwa moves one hand upwards to cup your cheek, his thumb grazing your lips while he asks in a soft voice, “That feel good, baby?” After nodding, you open your lips slightly, just enough for his thumb to enter.

               You bite down on him gently while still moving your hips. Your tongue presses against his thumb. He is watching you with lust and when he catches a glimpse of your tongue, he pulls his thumb away and growls out, “Come here.”

               He pushes you towards him, driving his cock further inside your pussy while hungrily kissing you. This kiss is sloppy, tongue against tongue. Your hand is on the back of his neck, pulling out the tie in his hair. The black strands fall messily around his face and around your fingers.

               You start bouncing in his lap while kissing. His hands gently rest on your lower back. Both of you are barely undressed; time is of the essence. His spit is in your mouth and you are sure that you’re making a lot of noise but don’t care. It simply feels too good and it has been far too long since you’ve fucked anyone.

       ��       The kiss breaks and with a gasp, Seonghwa requests, “Pull my hair.”

               And you do, giving it a sharp tug while he drives his cock deep into your hole. His cheeks are flushed with a reddish hue and his lips are slightly swollen from all the kissing and biting. You’re staring at Seonghwa’s neck, admiring the way the vines of his tattoo curl around his skin. The bright red of the small roses match the tiny plums of colour on his cheeks.

               Seonghwa notices that you’re staring and seems to know exactly what you’re thinking because he reaches for your hands, bringing them up to his neck. You squeeze and he groans, eyes closing as he arches his hips to slam his cock upwards inside your cunt.

               His breathing is growing ragged and you know he’s close. “Do it again,” He pleads in a strangled voice and your hands tighten around his neck once more. He looks exquisite as his pleasure reaches the pinnacle. He groans, head rolling back as you release the grip on his slender neck. His hair is splayed out against the back of the couch, his toned chest rising and falling rapidly while his eyes flutter closed.

               Small moans topple out from in between Seonghwa’s pretty pink lips as he climaxes. Filling your cunt with his cum, your hands run down his chest, feeling his muscles underneath your fingertips. When his head begins to clear, Seonghwa opens his eyes, fixating his gaze on you.

               Gently, he shifts positions, sliding you off his lap, tugging up his boxers and moving so that he’s facing you. He tugs off your underwear, tossing them to the floor and spreads your legs apart. Unsure of what he is going to do, you’re surprised when he brings two fingers to your entrance and slips them inside the mess he’s left in you.

               Seonghwa begins to pump his fingers in and out of your hole quickly, bringing his face downwards to wrap his lips around your clit. The entire process only takes a few seconds and the intensity of the pleasure hits you hard. Gasping, your hand finds his hair, gripping onto it while being finger fucked. You can hear the pornographic sounds of Seonghwa’s long fingers plunging in your wetness that is filled with his load. The tip of his tongue rapidly flicks across your clit.

               His shirt is hanging off his shoulders, his jeans loose around his waist. His tongue feels like the best thing in the world, only slightly better than the way his fingers curl upwards inside your cunt. The sound of his tongue lapping at your clit mixed with the squelching of his fingers makes you finish with a loud moan, unable to stop from grinding your hips against his face.         

               Seonghwa stops touching your clit, bringing his tongue to your hole instead to lick up his cum and yours. Your hand releases his hair while trying to catch your breath. Seonghwa looks up then with a devilish look in his eyes that makes your skin warm all over.

               He gets up, making no effort to button up his shirt. “May I use your bathroom?” He indicates the mess on his face, leaving down the small hallway after you tell him where it is.

               You quickly wiggle your underwear and sweatpants back on as your face grows hot. You haven’t ever slept with someone so soon after meeting them. But you’ve also never desired someone as much as Seonghwa before. Now what? You wonder if he’s just going to return and tell you that he needs to go.

               But when he returns, the remaining buttons on his shirt lazily done back up (one is skipped completely in the middle), he plops back down on the couch, looking in your direction.

               “You wanna grab dinner?”

*

               “Showering with someone is never sexy,” You say while shoving the leftovers from the Chinese takeout that was ordered an hour earlier into your fridge, “It sounds sexy in theory but someone is always just out of reach of the shower head and is cold or they don’t like the water temperature or whatever.”

               The conversation about fooling around in the shower had started ten minutes prior when Seonghwa made a flirtatious suggestion. But with only uninspired sexual shower experiences to fall back on, you had demurred until Seonghwa got a confession out of you that it was your belief nothing sexy happened in the shower.

               He’s lounging on the couch, looking completely comfortable, like someone who has been in your apartment a thousand times. His hair is still down and out of the small ponytail, curling against the nape of his neck.

               “I’m different,” Seonghwa protests, clearly shocked someone doesn’t want to shower with him.

               “Not like the other girls?” You joke, sitting back down on the couch.

               “I’m not,” He refutes, “Let me show you. It’ll be fun.”

               “It’ll be awkward.”

               Seonghwa gazes at you steadily with that same mischievous look on his face that he had the night he saluted you through the window. Your heart skips a beat, picturing the hot water rolling down his skin. He seems to know exactly what you’re thinking about once again because he leans forward, close enough to kiss you.

               “No,” He murmurs and you both know that he’s got you in his web, “It’ll be nasty.”

*

               Ten minutes later, you’re pressed against the cold wall of your shower while incredibly hot water runs down your body. Seonghwa’s lips are on yours, his body lithe and warm, angled against your body. His kisses are slow this time, deepening with each one while his hands roam across your body. You can feel him stiff against your thigh.

Seonghwa’s lips are on your neck now, sucking on the skin, while your hand curls around the pendant. It’s warm against your palm, quieting all your nerves in the strange familiarity of it and Seonghwa.

               “See, this isn’t so bad,” He mumbles in that deep voice of his as his hand slinks downward in between your thighs, “Not awkward at all. Maybe it’s just the people you’ve been with.”

               There is no witty retort because his finger touches your clit. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, hard muscles under your hands as he continues to lazily rub your swollen nub.

               “Maybe if you had slept with a neighbor sooner, you wouldn’t have had any awkward shower experiences,” Seonghwa continues conversationally, “I’m just thinking aloud.”

               His finger moves off your clit and dips in between your wet folds. You’re thinking about his dick back inside your cunt, thinking about his hips moving –

               “Well, I guess we should get out now,” Seonghwa says casually, and your eyes snap open.

               “What?” You say, confused.

               “You weren’t really into the idea, right? So, we don’t have to spend long in here.”

               You pull away from him, looking at his face. The confusion is swiped clean at seeing that glint in his eye. “Are you teasing me?” You ask.

               “Now, why would I do that?” Seonghwa replies in mock seriousness. “I’m being considerate. I’m being a nice guy.”

               You’re squirming against his fingers now, which have gone still just outside your hole. “Well, stop.”

               At this, he laughs. “Stop being considerate? What should I do then?” You like the way his wet hair frames his face, jet black against his skin.

               “Fuck me,” You say plaintively.

               Seonghwa adjusts, reaching down for your leg, resting your foot on the small shower shelf. His cock is pressing against your pussy lips and the steam is thickening from how hot the water is. Seonghwa hasn’t complained once about the temperature.

               “You want me to fuck you, baby?” After you nod, he goes, “Then hold onto me.”

               And you do, curling your body close to his with one foot planted firmly on the shower floor and the other on the shelf. Seonghwa’s hands are on your lower back, pressing you tightly against him as he slides his cock inside your wet cunt.

               The sensation of him filling you up from this angle makes you clutch Seonghwa harder. His skin is hot against your hands, your face is buried in his neck as the water makes your bodies slick against each other.

               “Fuck, your cunt is tight,” Seonghwa growls when he is fully inside.

               You’d speak but your mind is wiped clean of any words, lost to the sensation of his big cock buried to the hilt in your hole. He moves his hips slightly, just enough to make you whimper. Your hand is on the back of his neck and you can feel his wet hair on your fingertips.

               His hands move down to your ass, gripping it hard as he starts to pump his hips. The water runs down your bodies as Seonghwa fucks you. His skin is flushed, his lips slightly swollen from all the kissing. He’s making noises that only give you cause to want him more. He holds you so tightly that you aren’t afraid of slipping. Your own grip on him is just as hard, refusing to let him go as if the two of you can become one in that moment.

               The angle is delicious as the tip of his cock brushes against your sweet spot. You bite down on his shoulder from the intensity of the pleasure and Seonghwa groans in approval. His tattoos look brighter somehow in the water and you drag your lips up along the vines that curl around his delicate neck.

               He pants out your name as his movements quicken. Your walls tighten around his length, anticipating his load. Your own climax is approaching as Seonghwa as his thrusts increase in speed. The sound of skin against skin, the shower water striking you, the steam rising and filling the space and the hungry kisses – all of it collides in one moment, overwhelming your senses.

               When you climax, so does Seonghwa. Together, your pleasure crests and breaks. Your pussy milks his cock which spills inside you, leaking out from in between your folds. Seonghwa tilts his face towards you, finding your lips with his and kisses you slowly.

               When he pulls away to study your expression, he goes, “So? How was that?”

               Panting, you reply, “Good. Good shower experience.”

               “Told you,” Seonghwa says smugly. “You know, I fuck even better in a bed.”

               And you smile.

*

               Your phone buzzes late one evening, a week after your night with Seonghwa. Yawning, you look at your phone, half asleep watching TV.

               The text reads, “Cum 2 the window.”

               If it had been sent by anyone else, you would have found the fuckboy style of writing tiresome. But on Seonghwa, you don’t mind it at all. Getting off the couch, you lumber towards the window, looking over at Seonghwa’s.

               He is standing there, shirtless in just a pair of black jeans with his hair up. After the night together, you hadn’t thought you would hear from him again. He seemed like the type to fuck and go; maybe it was his personality, the swagger he had, or a combination of it. You assumed people would throw themselves at him with such regularity that he could go through lovers swiftly.

               But Seonghwa texted you all week, engaging in a mixture of sexting and actual conversations. Neither of you had been quick to jump into bed together again; drawing it out created more pleasure than darting over to each other’s apartments every time the urge struck.

               You type back, “Did you drag me off the couch just to stare at you shirtless?”

               Even from the distance, you can just barely make out his grin. “Maybe.” The expression is familiar; it is the same one he wore after basically fucking you into the mattress after the shower sex. “Wanna cum over?”

               “Too cold,” You reply teasingly, “You’re the one with that ridiculous coat. You come over.”

               Seonghwa cocks his head to one side. You wonder tonight if the pressure will crack and break. His reply pops up a few seconds later. “Alright. I’ll be there in 15.”

               Your heart swoops. You don’t reply, just lift your gaze from the phone to look over at him in his window, your heart swelling.

               And Seonghwa playfully salutes before dipping out of view.

the end.

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING CONVERSATIONAL !!! CARLOS S. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: just two good friends having deep conversation… or just simply a heated conversation over a call.

💌 re:moony's planner request: "hi, can you write phone sex with carlos sainz?."

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), use of explicit language, phone sex, dom!carlos x brat-ish!reader), masturbation (m and f), dirty talking, degrading + dumbification, friends with benefits type beat (with a hint of yearning), squirting, brief mentions of orgasm denial, extremely filthy i did not write this i promise.

note: my demons won today pls be proud of them. enjoy xx (also! please don't hesitate to give me your opinion or talk to me!!!)

ps: i’ve also been spending my time on character ai too much and i just subconsciously thought of being in a poly relationship with fernando and lewis… anyway… enjoy

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

she didn’t know what drove her to call him in the middle of the night. they were nothing but friends, after all. 

friends don’t usually call to check in… let alone to get off as if they hadn’t placed their labels below the expected standard (everyone could have sworn that they were dating; they both laughed at the thought while continuing to (eye) fuck each other.) 

so she had no clue why she was willing to submit to him no matter how far he was. she was willing to listen to every single thing he’d tell her.

did she want the orgasm or the attention? she wasn’t sure— but either of the reasons had something to do with him, and it was becoming worse for her yearning as she cursed beneath her breath. today had been the worst of all days for hers

she huffed quietly and got comfortable under her covers, but her exhaustion left soon enough that she became more frustrated and agitated. her frustration left her with the stupid idea of calling him. 

carlos sainz picked up at the second ring and she could practically hear his smirk through his voice as he greeted her, “shouldn’t it be past your bedtime now, bonita?” 

she rolled her eyes, “shouldn’t it be past yours?” she didn’t even think to say hi to him, instead she snarked back at him with the same amount of playfulness in her tone.

“no,” carlos hummed as he spoke with his usual deep tone, “in the hotel though. we just finished our media day duties.”

“nice,” she muttered, his voice sending signals straight to her brain as her legs involuntarily closed.

it was as if he knew what she wanted at this moment as carlos chuckled quietly, “i could get into details about what i’ve done today, but i don’t think you’re that interested in listening.”

she snapped out of her thoughts as she replied monotonously, “i’m a good listener. good friends come with good listening ears.” even carlos knew that she was lying. 

“uh huh,” carlos said as he held his phone closer. “and this good friend knows a lot about you.” 

“that right?” she taunted, feeling the tension between them rising no matter how far apart they were from each other. “what do you know then, good friend?” 

carlos scoffed, his domineering attitude getting the best of him as he smirked, “you’re getting too mouthy, princesa.” 

he nearly laughed at the sound of fabrics rustling from her side of the call, knowing that she was squirming in anticipation already. he could imagine her heart beating fast, waiting for him to make the next move as her face feigned innocence.

carlos always had the upper hand and they both knew that. they both knew who was in control and she was in no place to oppose. 

“you’re acting like this because you are so frustrated,” carlos deduced with a tut, “you’re talking back like you’d be able to handle the consequences of your attitude.”

her free hand had snaked down her nightdress as she felt her bare mound becoming more damp as she proceeded to push his buttons. she replied back, “maybe i’m just projecting my frustration onto you, carlos.”

“by acting like a brat?” carlos’ voice became more stern as he spoke lowly, “you know that begging is the best way to do that, bonita. if you wanted to release it, you should’ve asked nicer— you shouldn’t be touching yourself without permission like a fucking brat. take that pathetic hand off your pussy, princesa, i’m warning you now.” 

like an instinct, she immediately pulled her hand away from her wet cunt. she didn’t even realize that he picked up on it until she found herself writhing while she subconsciously toyed with her clit at the sound of him. 

carlos chuckled with a demeaning and teasing tone, “see? you do listen then. and i thought i’d have to deny you orgasms when i get back.” 

“carlos,” she whimpered, rubbing her thighs for friction as she listened to him laugh aloud. 

“oh, no no, bonita, you don’t get to ‘carlos’ me,” he replied with a mocking tone. “you don’t get to see me right now, bebe.”

“but i want to see you,” her lips trembled, her mind shifting away from reality to her submissive state. she continued, “i wanna see you touch yourself and your cock.”

“how badly?” he murmured sweetly. 

“so bad,” she mumbled through her phone, her pleading tone making carlos’ cock twitch as he continued to stroke himself slowly. 

carlos knew that he was torturing himself with the teasing, but he couldn’t find himself to stop as his sweet tone turned to a mocking one as he replied, “too bad.” 

he settled himself on his hotel bed as he spat on his palm and stroked his cock. he then instructed her, “go on then.” 

she seemed so lost as she asked, “what?”

carlos laughed haughtily, “don’t tell me you’re already dumb just thinking about getting your pussy fucked with my cock, princesa?” he then clicked his tongue, “touch yourself. i wanna hear you cum.” 

she wasn’t even sure anymore. she was just eager to please him and herself, her fingers gathering the wetness that oozed out of her cunt before she pressed down on her clit and moved them in circular motions. 

she bit her lip as she sighed, making carlos demand, “i wanna fucking hear you.” 

she elicited a whiny sigh as she continued to torture herself slowly. she told him, “i’m so wet.” 

“i can hear, baby,” carlos crooned, his own hand moving up and down his length before his thumb rubbed his thick tip. “i can hear your pretty pussy perfectly well.” 

“those noises that you make are making my cock throb really hard, bebe,” he muttered, earning a whimper of ‘fuck’ from the other side of the call as carlos continued, “they make me want to fly back and fuck you until you’re shaking and sore.” 

“mmm…” she cried out, feeling her hips rising to meet her rubbing fingers halfway through. “…fuck!” 

“your pussy— fuck, princesa,” carlos cursed, “it makes me want to see how fucking wet you will be the next time i fuck you everywhere in your place.”

carlos’ hand increased its pace as her breathing became rapid. carlos growled, “i want to hear you in person- i want to hear you screaming for my name because you’re a pathetic slut who’s desperate to cum all over my cock.” 

“o- oh, fuck,” she sobbed, “can i please fuck myself with my fingers? please, carlos?” she knew that she couldn’t risk not asking him to cum all over her own fingers. she was so lost that she needed his guide. 

carlos permitted her, “go on. put those two fingers inside of you, bonita. i want you to fuck yourself fast.” 

she immediately obliged, her middle and ring fingers scissoring inside her cunt as she wailed in pleasure. her fingers curled up against the sensitive spot inside of her as she uttered, “ah~ fuck~!” 

“it feels good, bonita?” carlos asked huskily as his breathing rapidly increased, stroking himself at the sounds that her squelching cunt made as she fucked herself at a pace that he wanted her to be. 

“mhm,” she nodded, not even realizing that he wasn’t there. “so good, ‘los. fuck.” 

“it’s not as good as mine, bebe,” he growled lowly, “when i get back i’m gonna be fucking that pussy of yours with something more bigger. gonna make sure you cum all over my mouth, my fingers and my cock— gonna make sure your bed’s all filthy from the mess that i’ll make of you.”

“car— los! fuck, i’m cumming,” she babbled as she pleaded, “can i please cum, carlos? please?”

“fuck, i’m cumming too, bonita,” he let out a deep groan as he demanded firmly, “cum all over your fingers, princesa. fucking cum.” 

she let out a high pitched whine, fucking herself through her orgasm as liquid trickled out of her pussy. her sheets were covered with her cum as her body shook before easing off. 

carlos came all over his stomach, groaning aloud as cum shot out of his cock.

both of them breathed heavily and rapidly, falling into silence as they gathered their thoughts and breathing. 

carlos then reached for his phone and asked, “you still there?”

“yuh huh,” she mumbled, laughing to herself before she said, “never came this much over the phone before. watching porn never worked this much either.” 

carlos chuckled, cleaning himself up as he spoke, “what can i say? i’m a miracle worker.” 

she scoffed playfully, “yeah right. okay.” 

perhaps there was a real reason why she called him in the first place. she just needed to see it for herself before realizing it. 

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129

[hyperfixatedbastard]

sweet, sweet silence

Vox x Autistic!GN!Reader

Dating the CEO of VoxTek Enterprises has its perks. You always get brand new devices before they even hit the shelves, and occasionally, Vox makes things specifically for you - like noise-cancelling headphones.

Word Count: 1.3k

WARNINGS: none!

A/N: this is for the autistic homies but it works for anyone with sensory issues! 'tis based off of my own experiences so apologies if it feels inaccurate to anyone, i'm projecting so hard rn. this is also my first time writing x reader/2nd person POV so I hope I did alright! also, i do requests if anyone would like to see more of this kind of thing :)

Dividers

"Doll, c'mere for a second, would ya?" Vox calls out to you, gesturing for you to come to his desk with a 'come hither' motion. 

You raise a brow in interest as you approach your boyfriend where he's sitting in his rather eccentric chair, tinkering with...something. You hop up onto the desk, careful to sit in a spot that you know has no important screens or buttons (you learned the hard way). You don't say anything, instead just tilting your head and waiting for Vox to show off whatever he's been working on this time.

He finally lets you see what's in his clawed hands: a pair of headphones. They're clearly a VoxTek product—the blue and red color scheme gives it away—though you're certain you've never seen these on sale before. It's not uncommon for Vox to show off new products to you before they're released, though, so you don't question it.

He smirks as he holds the headphones out to you. It's not that sly, devious smile he so often has on his screen, though; it's that grin you have when you're about to surprise someone and you just know they're going to love it. "These are for you, darling."

On one hand, you get a little excited (free shit, fuck yeah!). But on the other, you're a little worried—you're not good at receiving gifts. It always ends up awkward because you don't really know how to express gratitude in an expected, neurotypical way. But Vox is well aware of that, and he can tell when you're grateful, so you push those worries to the side and take the headphones from him.

You look at them curiously, inspecting the foldable hinges, the ear cushions, and the small assortment of buttons on the speakers. You can tell that the three buttons on the right speaker are for adjusting the volume—increase, mute, and decrease—but you have no damn clue what the button on the left speaker is for.

"Well? Put 'em on," Vox encourages you, still with that expectant grin as he anticipates your reaction.

You do as he says and place the headphones over your ears. They're certainly comfortable, but you don't see what the big deal is. You already have headphones—they’re not great, as it’s damn near impossible to drown out the unbearably overstimulating sounds of Hell, but you manage. Kinda.

Just as you’re about to ask what’s so special about these headphones, Vox presses that mystery button on the left speaker, and everything goes blissfully quiet.

Your eyes widen as you get the first moment of true silence for the first time since you arrived in Hell. The sudden difference is initially jarring, but the relief is downright euphoric. 

During the entirety of your afterlife in Hell, it's been ceaselessly loud and often unbearable. The screams, the explosions, the gunshots—it's incessant, and you never get a moment of peace. The V Tower is not nearly as bad as the rest of the Pride Ring, thanks to a lot of soundproofing, but there's always something. Moans and other lewd noises fill the halls of anywhere within five floors of Valentino's studios. You can hear the screeching and yelling beneath the thrum of music emitting from Velvette’s section of the tower. 666 Studios isn't much better, with the constant chattering of the crew and bickering between newscasters.

Vox's lair office is by far the quietest place in the entirety of Hell, at least in your experience. The soundproofing here is much more effective than anywhere else in V Tower, and Vox is the only person ever here. He does talk and maniacally laugh to himself fairly often, but you don’t usually don’t mind that (and he’ll typically quite down if he can tell you’re having a rough day). But it’s far from perfect—there’s still the intermittent click-clacking of a keyboard, the constant whirring of the computer fans, the low humming of all the tech, and the audio from whatever security camera Vox is spying on. You can tune it out most of the time, but it all overwhelms you so, so easily.

And you aren't very good at hiding it (at least not with Vox, who’s too observant for his own damn good when it comes to you).

Which is why your dear boyfriend has just spent the past several days making you the best noise-canceling headphones Hell has ever seen. He knows what the constant overstimulation does to you, and he sees it far more often than he'd like to. You get irritated and snippy, and sometimes it gets so bad you have a meltdown. It's gotten less common over time, but it still happens way too frequently for either of your likings. 

“So, who’s the best boyfriend ever?” he hints, clearly fishing for a compliment. His voice is surprisingly clear despite the headphones practically deafening you—his words are muffled, but just loud enough for you to understand what’s being said. He's grinning at you like he's the one that just got the excruciatingly heartfelt present. 

Usually, you’d have a witty comeback to Vox’s attempts at getting you to stroke his ego (always followed by an actual, genuine compliment to ease his insecurities hiding behind that ego), but you’re drawing a blank right now. 

The gift is so thoughtful that you don’t even know where to start on expressing your gratitude. Noise-canceling headphones seem so obvious now, but this is Hell! Both you and Vox had died before this technology became commonplace, and not many people in Hell care that much about the noise. Vox made these headphones specifically for you. He doesn’t need them (he can quite literally just turn off his audio input) and he probably won’t make much of a profit with them as a VoxTek product. He’s a busy man, being a CEO and an Overlord, yet he took the time to make this for you himself, not even passing the project off to one of the poor souls that works for him. 

“Babe?” Vox calls out gently, waving a hand in front of your face. Oh, shit—you’re overthinking your response so much that you forgot to actually fucking respond.

You blink a few times, meeting your boyfriend’s gaze. His brows are slightly furrowed, in what you think is a mix of concern and amusement. He’s a little worried he’s fucked up somehow, but he knows you well enough by now to recognize when you’re thinking too hard about something. He actually finds it quite adorable, at least when you’re not about to have a panic attack from it. 

As he looks at you expectantly, you decide to just go with your gut (at least, that’s what you think you’re doing—you’ve never entirely understood what the fuck that phrase means).

You don’t give yourself time to second-guess your actions before you’re practically jumping into Vox’s lap—though it’s more like falling since you were just sitting on the desk. He lets out a little ‘oof’ of surprise before he chuckles and moves his hands to your waist, holding you steady while being careful of his claws. He smirks as you wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his neck, jostling the headphones a little but not enough to fuck with the noise cancellation.

“So…you like them, then?” Vox prompts, just wanting the confirmation even though the answer is already clear. You can tell by his tone that he’s still grinning proudly.

You just gently nod, inadvertently rubbing your face against the fabric of his shirt (fortunately, Vox is a fancy bastard with high standards when it comes to clothing, and he’d long ago thrown out any garment made with fabric that triggered your sensory issues).

“Thank you,” you murmur against his neck. 

His hands tighten ever so slightly around your waist, and his response is so soft you can barely hear it through the headphones. “Anything for you, doll.”

[gimmethatagustd]

sweet dreams | ksj

Seokjin loves when you paint your nails pink.

○ Pairing: Dom!Seokjin x Sub!Reader

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Established relationship, smut

○ 8 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Master/Dom)

○ Word Count: 1,182

○ Warnings: Free use kink, consensual somnophilia (kinks negotiated "off screen"), vaginal fingering, spit, unprotected vaginal sex, cunnilingus, cum eating, light bdsm themes, no pronouns or gendered language are used for the MC aside from pussy and tits

○ Notes: I think I'm going insane actually 😅 Please read the warnings and if you don't know what somnophilia is, please maybe do a little research before you read this, just in case it might be triggering to you. Also I didn't edit this and I'm too embarrassed by the filth to even proofread it so jhsdfkjs enter at your own risk, besties. Proceed with caution 😭

○ Post Date: February 10, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost

○ What was Jai listening to? Do Me Right - GEMINI

For the past few months, work has been kicking Seokjin’s ass. As his company barrels toward a major project deadline, he’s found very little time to spend with you. It’s unfortunate because you are accustomed to having fun together, whether going on dates or having a casual night in. 

You’ve been bitter about it, and Seokjin can’t blame you. His baby deserves better, to be cared for and spoiled, and deserves more attention than he has given you. 

Coming home late, Seokjin sighs when he slips into the apartment and finds all the lights off. It’s just past midnight, long since you fell asleep. You used to stay up for him, but Seokjin begged you not to. It wasn’t fair for you to deny yourself sleep because of his job.

After taking off his shoes and removing his suit jacket and tie, Seokjin quietly makes his way down the hall to the bedroom you share. 

You’re fast asleep in bed, sprawled out on your stomach with one knee hiked up, wearing nothing but a cropped tank top and flimsy panties, the kind with lace trim and a tiny bow because your ass is a present, or whatever that rap verse is that you’re always quoting. 

Seokjin thinks you’re cute in anything. 

He especially thinks you’re cute in pink – pink panties, pink tank tops, the remnants of pink eyeshadow because you forgot to wash your face before you fell asleep, and, his favorite, pink nail polish. 

The little glass bottle sits on the nightstand beside your bed. You applied the polish shortly before bed, and Seokjin can smell the lingering chemical aroma in the air. 

It started as a shy confession and an even more shy request – you admitting to Seokjin that you always wanted to try out a particular fantasy but had never found a partner you trusted with this level of kink exploration. Seokjin, though, you trust with your life. He has done his best to show you that he can and will listen to you, respect you, and love you. 

So when you asked Seokjin to have his way with you whenever you wear your favorite pink nail polish, he took his role as your trusted caretaker very seriously. 

Seokjin pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor along with his jeans. Keeping his briefs on, he kneels on the bed, one knee on either side of your leg that’s straightened out. He uses his knee to push your leg that’s bent, hiking it up to open your thighs even further. He’s slow as he does it, careful not to wake you up. 

He runs his palms over your asscheeks, slipping his fingers beneath your underwear and squeezing just light enough to make them jiggle. Pulling your underwear to the side, he exposes your pussy, open wide for him from how he has pushed your leg up.

Leaning forward, Seokjin spits onto your pussy. He uses his thumb to push his spit through your folds, rubbing it over your clit and then dragging it down to your entrance to dib his thumb inside. 

You let out a small whimper, and Seokjin pauses his movements. Only his heavy breathing and your little sounds echo in the room, but your eyes remain closed, and your breathing is slow. 

Relaxing with the knowledge that you’re still asleep, Seokjin starts touching you again. He spends time circling your clit, alternating between pressing hard on the sensitive skin and maintaining light touches that serve more to spread your arousal around. His mouth waters from just playing with your clit, and he lets more spit soak your pussy. Seokjin always likes it wet and messy, especially when you’re so pliant while sleeping.

Your body reacts on its own, naturally shifting into his touch when he slides two fingers into your entrance. He fucks you slowly, easing his fingers in and out carefully so he doesn’t disturb you. Your ass jiggles slightly each time his fingers rock into you. Sometimes, he pushes deep in and stays there, fluttering and massaging your wet walls. 

With his other hand, Seokjin reaches over to push up your shirt. Since it’s a crop top, it’s already barely covering your tits, making it easier for him to push it up. Licking his fingers, he tweaks your exposed nipple, swirling and pinching it until it grows hard. 

Seokjin bites his bottom lip to stop himself from moaning as he eases his fingers out of you, smearing your arousal on the back of your thigh. You're so wet, and his cock is aching, hard, and dripping precum, a dark spot staining the front of his briefs.

"So beautiful..." Seokjin whispers to himself as he spreads your lips and spits directly into your pussy again. Arousal and spit dribbles down your lips and soaks the bed sheets.

Unable to take it, Seokjin takes his cock out and rubs the tip through your folds. When the ridge of his head catches against your clit, you let out a quiet whimper, your body aware of the pleasure even if your mind is still oblivious.

The little breathy sounds you make only spur Seokjin on more. He's impatient as he sinks his cock into you, your walls slippery and hot as you suck him in. He presses his hands into the bed on either side of your waist and thrusts deep and slow, careful not to wake you as he fucks into you.

Seokjin loves how easy it is to manipulate your body while you're sleeping, especially knowing that you like being a little fucktoy for him. You like it when he uses your body like the perfect cocksleeve, pleasuring him even when you're asleep.

You moan in your sleep, and Seokjin wonders if you're dreaming about him fucking you. You came in the past, writhing in your sleep and moaning so loudly that you woke yourself up. This time, you must be genuinely exhausted because your eyes barely flutter as Seokjin chases his pleasure.

It doesn't take long for him to cum. He does so with quiet grunts, pulling back just in time to watch his cum spurt over your lips, some of the hot liquid dripping back into your stretched-out entrance.

Not even bothering to tuck his cock back in his briefs, he slides down to bury his face in your pussy, lapping at the cum to clean you up. It's the final push you need to finally orgasm, your hips bucking and your body shaking as a moan rips through your throat.

"Jin," you gasp, reaching down to dig your fingers in his hair. You don't bother getting up; just let your body slump into the bed as your orgasm hurdles through you like electricity, shocking your system.

"Sorry, I woke you up," Seokjin murmurs against your pussy. He tries to pull away, but you push his head back down.

"Please," you whisper, sleepy eyes still closed. "More, please."

Humming in satisfaction, Seokjin gives you what you want. He's weak like that; even when you're pliant, he'll always be weak for you. 

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here. 

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[writtenbymoonflower]

can i please request any of the marauders (dealers choice) with a shy quiet reader who’s just a little lonely, and doesn’t quite understand why he (the marauder) wants to be her friend but he just follows her like a lost puppy! if not totally cool- also it can be romantic i don’t mind but i just love the way you write the boys they’re so perfect

definitely did not use this request as an opportunity for MAJOR projection... of course not. Not sure if he's as openly needy as you were wanting, but I hope this is okay! Thanks for requesting hunny! shy!reader x flirty friend!Sirius Black

cw: drinking, smoking, kinda mean friends

1.4k words

Much to your dismay, your drink didn’t look any more interesting than the last twenty times you stared into it. Still, it was better than letting your eyes roam around the party and looking as lost as you felt. The friends you had come with ran off about thirty minutes ago, pulling attractive strangers onto the floor to dance. You were sat on the microfiber settee, swirling your drink and playing with the frays on your jeans. The jeans that your friends had stuffed you into, claiming they ‘make your ass look fantastic.’

Unfortunately, the effort was for naught, because you had been sitting down the whole night. The whole room was a mix of sounds, loud laughter, cups toppling over, the thump of the music from the stereo. You scanned the room, trying to see if there was anyone you recognized, you didn’t have to even look over for someone to call your name. 

“Y/N, love! I didn’t know you were here!” You looked up to see Sirius Black bounding towards you, not having any time to process before you were being hauled up into a hug. He was holding you far too tight to be socially acceptable, considering how you didn’t really know each other that well.

You had met at a party similar to this, one of your friends had a thing going on with someone in their group. Since then, it seemed like anytime he clapped eyes on you, he pulled you onto his arm. 

“Hi, Sirius.” You said quietly, still having the air squeezed out of you by the tattooed boy. He smelled like strong, clean cologne, tinged with musk, hair product, and makeup. It wasn't bad, actually kind of nice. He pulled back, but didn’t let go of you. You noticed he was far too pretty to be fair, smokey and sparkly liner rimming his eyes, high cheekbones topped with glitter that shimmered in the colorful lights, and dark, glossy lipstick, slightly smudged and blotted from his cup. He always looked his best at parties, but he took your breath away extra tonight, maybe because you hadn’t had enough to drink, too scared to run out and go up yourself for a refill. 

“What’re you doing, sitting here all by yourself, you goose.” He playfully scolded, finally letting his arms drop from around you. 

“My friends ran off, I was trying to get drunk.” You laughed pitifully. He was looking at you with enough intensity to make your ears burn. He peered between the two of you to look at your cup of beer. 

“Oh you poor thing, you’re never gonna get drunk enough on that. Come with me, let me fix you up.” He grabbed your free hand and dragged you over to the drinks table, you felt bad pulling him away from the people he came with.

“Aren’t your friends gonna worry? I don’t wanna steal you” You said, setting your red cup down to pick at your nails. 

“Let them worry. Besides, I’d let you steal me any day, dollface.” He winked at you, making heat rush through your body. “Anyway, let me make you a drink.” He picked up a bottle of red juice. “The key is, stay away from things that taste nasty.” He acted like he was teaching a class. “If you want to be drunk, you have to not suffer while you’re drinking.” He poured the fruit punch into another red cup, before grabbing a bottle of tequila and pouring a hefty amount in with it. He swirled the drink before handing it to you. 

“Thank you.” You said, looking at your shoes.

“Anytime.” He smirked at you. You hid your face in your drink, taking a tentative sip. It tasted mostly like fruit punch, with a tinge of warmth as it went down your throat. 

“This is dangerous.” You laughed nervously. “It’s really good, thank you.” You were smiling so shyly and sweetly at him he thought he could cry. 

“No need to thank me.” He shook his head like you were being silly. You looked over to see his usual tribe, smiling and laughing. Your heart burned, wishing you had a group like that. You liked the friends you had come with, but they treated you more like a pity project than anything else, it was embarrassing. Sirius was probably doing the same with you. 

“Well, don’t let me keep you. I’m gonna go outside for a smoke.” You started to turn on your heel towards the patio. 

“They’ll be okay, I promise. Let me keep you at least.” He pleaded. “I could use a smoke too.” He caught up to walk beside you. 

“Only if you want to.” You said, barely looking at him. 

“Can’t think of anythin’ I’d rather do.” You didn’t miss the way his eyes roved appreciatively over your form, making you want to hide and show off to him all at once. He held the door open for you, both of you sighing as the cool air hit your overheated bodies. 

“Thank you.” You muttered again.

“Lose the pleasantries, babydoll. It’s just me.” He shook his head like you were being silly while he pulled out a pack of cigs, handing one to you before sticking another in his painted mouth. 

“I don’t wanna take your stuff.” You said, ashamedly. You were already causing him enough trouble, pulling him from his friends, making him babysit and play bartender, now stealing his substances. You were quickly working your way to mooch status.

He spoke around the unlit stick in his mouth. “You’re not taking, I’m giving. Now c’mere.” He pulled you by your arm, wrapping his hand around your baggy jacket. He grabbed the cigarette from your hand. “Open,” He said, unusually quiet. You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion, making him laugh. “Open your mouth, silly.” 

“Oh,” You said, complying with his odd request. He placed the cigarette on your lips, letting you close your mouth around the filter. You thought your heart jumped into your throat as he stepped closer, cupping his hand around the side and flicking his lighter on, lighting the end of your cig for you. You could feel your pants turn to ash on the spot. 

“There you go.” He whispered, stepping away to light his own. Your brain short circuited, struggling to process the last few seconds. You took a drag of your cigarette before taking it out of your mouth. 

“Thank you.” You looked at your shoes again. 

“Bad girl, what did I just tell you?” He laughed loudly. You took a deep breath. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” You whispered, cheeks flaming. He blew smoke out of his nose, face pinched in confusion. “Babysit me, I mean. I know you just feel bad cus’ I was sitting by myself.” You picked at the lint on your coat. He looked offended, making you want to pass out on the spot. 

“I’m gonna let you in on a secret.” He said, hushedly. “It seems you don’t realize it, but I’m mean.” You must’ve looked as confused as you felt, because he kept going. “I’m not really very nice, I don’t do things for the sake of others, not like it seems you think I do. So, I’m not doing this for your sake, I’m doing this for mine.” He smirked at you, his sharp canines glinting in the moonlight. 

“I don’t believe that.” You looked him in the eye for the first time that night. 

“And I don’t believe that anyone would pass up the opportunity to be with you, but here we are.” He smiled at you. “Now, if you’ll let me, I would like to spend my time with the person I really want to see. My other friends will be fine, trust me. They’re probably thanking their lucky stars I’m finally leaving them alone, actually.” He wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling you into his side and swinging an arm over your shoulders. 

“Okay.” You said, looking at your shoes again, voice barely louder than a mouse. He shook his head again. 

“You’re so fucking cute, you’re gonna be the death of me.” He chuckled, leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek. You let your fingers swipe the area gently. 

They came away with his pretty burgundy lipstick staining them.