#and then when it starts working again you can hear the artist laughing and i just. FUCK

[lo1k-diamonds]

SX Seoul Series | Yoongi Entry 💜 Sugar Rush Ride

PAIRING: YoongixReader

SUMMARY: You produced a song based on your hidden desires for your fellow producer and promised yourself that tonight, things would change. You were done pining after him, but then he arrived at the listening party.

WORD COUNT: 12.6k

GENRE: coworkers (mutually) pining to lovers

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: explicit, pwp (porn w/ plot really), drunk fight (but you sober up...sort of), bratty reader, rough but Yoongi is pro at aftercare, fingerfucking, face-fucking, edging, spankings, his hand is on your neck a lot (am I forgetting something?)

(You can also read it on AO3)

A.N. This is based on the song of the same title by TXT 🔥 It was not planned and maybe it has been done before, but it was too good to miss 😁

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Yoongi parked his car underground in a private parking lot before stepping outside into the night in Itaewon. It was crowded as usual, but he paid no mind to the passersby — he had somewhere to be.

He reached the steps that led into a famous club in the neighborhood and entered below the red lines warming up the humidity into steam: SX.

He was giving away his coat when the music from the backroom hit him, the pop music with the codename temptation resonating in the air, and in his ribcage. He stepped towards it confidently, unbothered by the instant boom of noise that hit him once the door opened and closed again behind him. No, nothing would bother him until he found what he was looking for.

He scanned the room attentively, the darkness crossed punctually and rhythmically by the flashes of lights to the beat of the songs he helped produce himself. All but one song that ended up being the main track, the reason why he had rushed to be at the listening party tonight.

He got to the bar and looked around again; he saw lots of people he knew, the artists included. None had seen him yet, so he took the chance to search even more carefully. And finally, his eyes fell on you. You were listening attentively as you held your hair to the side and someone, a man spoke into your ear above the noise. Then you burst out laughing, shoulders and chest trembling with excitement, and your hand landed on the man’s chest. Not in a smack, not to push him away, just subtly placed there in an intimate gesture, or an invitation thereof.

Yoongi was by your side before he knew it. The man with you looked up with a silent question and you flinched and looked back, eyes instantly widening in surprise.

“Yoongi! You’re back!”

You launched your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug, and he immediately knew you had alcohol in your system. Despite this, he reacted the only way he could be expected to — he wrapped a protective arm around you and looked straight into the eyes of that dude trying his luck.

“Right on time,” you grinned when you stepped back. “Inhyuk, this is Yoongi, the producer I was telling you about.”

The guy bowed and said something polite, but Yoongi wasn’t listening. You had stepped to stand beside the guy and his hand had comfortably set on your waist. For a second, his sole thought was, Since when? But then he cooled down.

“I see. Well, enjoy the party. I’ll see you later,” he told you with his eyes set on yours and you got the message.

But you didn’t want to worry about that right now, so when Inhyuk pulled you by the waist to talk to you a bit closer, you didn’t flinch. You smiled and agreed to have another drink while the crowd around you listened and enjoyed the album you helped produce. You were proud of yourself, it was the fruit of your first year of work with—

The main track started and the crowd cheered as it did every time it played. Your eyes watered as Inhyuk congratulated you and clinked his drink to yours but as you drank, there was heat building inside of you. It was funny to hear the lyrics you wrote being sung back at you and fit perfectly at that moment. But then you chuckled, as your eyes fell on Min Yoongi. Your thoughts would always stop as soon as he was back near you. That would never change.

Yet you looked up and smiled at Inhyuk, giddy with your drink and with excitement. You made a vow when you decided to let this song be performed and sung — it was you putting your feelings into your work to get rid of them. That was the deal.

Inhyuk smiled mischievously at you as if he couldn’t believe, but didn’t disapprove, of the song's lyrics speaking so openly about desire, about opening locked doors into seeing stars and asking for more. And you kept smiling and drinking. Because you made a deal with yourself and maybe tonight was the perfect time to go into a new direction.

The song was only three minutes long, but it drove Yoongi to a corner. He gripped his tonic water and faced the bar while the music kept calling to him, Come here more, let’s play more.

Just like the first time he heard it and was covered in goosebumps, wild thoughts coming to him that he had to quickly water down. He sighed; it didn’t stop him from flying back as soon as possible to talk to you about it. Confront you, more like.

He turned to the side to find you by the bar having shots with that guy, and that was it. The full album had played, you had your moment in the spotlight as you should, the artists were having a blast alongside everyone else, and he had had enough of seeing you so close to some guy.

You were on your fourth tequila shot when you felt an arm extend behind you to reach the bar, and you shivered. Not because it was cold; you were sweating from the drinks and the energy of the crowd. No, it was because you knew who it was, even if the arm didn’t touch you.

“We should go,” his voice was steady near your ear even though your head was spinning a little.

“The night is still young!” Inhyuk said as he grinned and grabbed another shot glass, waiting for you to do the same, but despite your giddiness, you hesitated. 

You looked up to Yoongi and saw his neutral beautiful lines, and you understood what he was doing.

The guy saw he was losing you, so he moved closer to get your attention, “I can take you home.”

He said it with amusement, like a tease, and you grinned. You were taken by the energy between you two; you both knew where that was going. But then a breath being slowly heaved behind you shook your foundations and you looked down. Yoongi was just doing his part of the deal, but suddenly you were fucking pissed. He couldn’t possibly understand that you needed to be with someone, anyone other than him. Desperately, before you’d fucking combust!

But he was your coworker, the genius producer of your label. And despite everything, you didn’t want to burn a bridge. Inhyuk was not that great anyway.

You shrugged almost innocently, “Maybe next time. It was nice meeting you.”

Yoongi pointed so that you’d go ahead to the exit and you did. Yet with every step, something was bubbling up your throat. There was a lump there, blocking you from voicing it while you grabbed your coats, walked the cold night to his car, and got in to be on your way.

The whole ride you argued with yourself that this was for the best. You shouldn’t have sex with someone after so many drinks, that was not how it was supposed to go. But maybe that was what you needed to have the courage to just move on. To want another man as desperately, and not the one driving you home right now. You needed it, you needed to go crazy and do something you wouldn’t normally do. You needed the regret, to stop playing safe, to stop believing your heart knew what was best for you when all it did was set on someone who saw you as nothing but a colleague.

When you arrived, he entered the private parking of your apartment building and parked swiftly. It made your stomach bubble further with anger, he was just so used to taking you home. That was the deal. Well, screw that.

“Thanks, good night.”

You pushed the door open and peeled yourself away, closing it with a bham only to seek support in the car instantly. Your legs were wobbly, the world was spinning and you cursed in irritation. It was fine before, why was it so difficult now?

His door opened and closed, the car beeped as it locked, then his steps echoed to get to you. And everything was like needles prickling your patience. He stood next to you to help you and you didn’t know what you wanted more: to scream at him or to just disappear.

But he placed his hand on your waist firmly, walked you to the lobby and the elevator, and even dialed your code to enter your apartment. It infuriated you — it reminded you of all the times over the last year that he had done his part of the deal. That he had taken you home safe and sound, and still never seen you for anything more while you pined helplessly.

So you tried to reach your living room without his help and stumbled very quickly, yet a firm grip on your arm prevented you from falling face flat. Normally, you would have blushed, thanked him, and let the politeness and decorum dictate your interactions, but not now.

You pulled your arm loose, “I don’t need a chaperone!”

“And I don't need you to fall and break a leg.”

You threw your jacket and purse over your couch finally with a frustrated huff. The world was spinning and annoying you so fucking much. You needed to scream at him once and for all and be done with it, why couldn’t it stand still?

“Why did you interfere?”

“What do you mean?” He was calmly taking his shoes off after hanging his coat by the entrance and his placidness irked you.

“I was having a good time!”

You barely saw the line crossing his face, “He was no good for you.”

“What? Why?!”

“He just wasn’t,” he stated, walking further inside your apartment like he knew it, and he did. He’d normally stay for a chat after bringing you home and made sure you were okay.

“But why?!” You insisted, eyes so wide they looked twice their size, and still the room was shaky. “What was so wrong with him that—”

“He was trying to get you drunk,” he almost scoffed as he reached your kitchen and started looking around for something.

“So?” You tried following him, annoyed that he was not paying attention to you.

He found a cup and right next to it what he was looking for. He took a black coffee capsule and put both things next to your coffee machine. “He just wanted sex.”

He seemed annoyed now as he prepped the coffee and you threw your hands in the air, “I fucking want sex!”

He paused and looked at you, at your wide eyes and red cheeks. And you held your breath, swallowing dryly. Did you just yell that at Min Yoongi? At your genius coproducer?

“You're drunk.”

He pressed the button to draw an espresso from the machine, and you felt like a volcano about to erupt.

“I’m not drunk!!” He didn’t look at you and you gripped your hair with a frustrated scream. “I’m just not only a fucking worker bee, okay?! I have needs, I want things! So what, sex is too much for you to handle or som—”

A look was all it took for you to feel your guts freeze in place. You were so attuned to this fucking man that his slightest hint of disapproval hit you like an icicle. But it wasn’t just that, it was something else. Disappointment?

And you revolted hard against it; he had no right to make you feel this way. “Then what’s the problem?! I can’t want it? Because I’m a woman or something?”

He took the coffee cup and placed it in front of you on the kitchen counter, “Drink it.”

You ignored it, “I didn’t think you were a prude or conservative, but this is me.” You stepped back and fought the traces of the spinning walls vehemently. “I want things. More than just make good music, I’m not just my work.” He was listening, he was looking at you, but all he did was push the cup the slightest in your direction. And you snorted, “Hell, that’s why my music is good. Because I want— I want things.”

You couldn’t look at him, only at his feet. You thought you wanted to scream your frustration at him, but now you realized that was pointless. It wouldn’t matter. He wasn’t into you anyway.

“We’re not talking unless you’re sober.”

You raised your eyes and his coolness hardened you. Right. You’d get a slap on the wrist for getting drunk at the listening party of the album you fucking produced. For wanting to sleep with another producer. For not being professional? Who the fuck knew why. And maybe sober you’d care about losing your dream, but right now you were just fucking done.

“Right, whatever,” you turned to head to your bedroom. “I’ll take a shower, we can talk tomorrow.”

Yoongi saw you walk a bit shakily but firmly toward your bedroom and then he sighed. He considered for a moment to do as you wished and leave, but he didn’t want to leave you alone. Selfishly, he didn’t want to wait for tomorrow. He was restless, he needed to talk to you about it. And to do that, he needed you sober.

He grabbed your coffee cup and knocked on the ajar door with his eyes glued to the floor. He called your name and you scoffed.

“You’re taking our deal too much to the letter,” your voice sounded strained and he closed his free hand into a fist. “You don’t need to worry about—”

He heard noises and he didn’t think twice; he pushed the door open and found you almost fallen to the floor trying to take your dress off. You huffed in annoyance; you should have sat on the bed but then how would the dress pass under—

A firm hand hoisted you up as if you were as light as a feather and you came face to face with him. The man in your dreams, in your mind, making you scream in your bed just at the thought of him. Making you crazy. 

“I’m fine,” you said, looking down. “I can handle myself. You don’t need to bring me home and make sure I don’t—” 

Your voice wavered, what were you— 

Your eyes filled with tears, but maybe that was exactly what needed to happen, “Yeah, let’s stop that. Our deal? Let’s end it. You don’t need to bring me home and watch over me. I know I’m a woman in a men-dominated company, but I’m not a child.”

He sighed and stepped away and your heart cracked, leaving you to hide your face with one hand and try to press your chest with the other. You knew that to move on you had to push him away, but damn did it sting and—

The scent of coffee invaded your nose and you raised your hand from over your eyes. He was holding the coffee cup in front of you.

“Stop for a second and drink it. Then, we’ll talk.”

You looked for the sincerity in his eyes, and of course, you found it. So you took the cup and chugged the espresso as if it had been just another tequila shot. Then you lowered your arm and looked at him, trying to sense if that changed anything. It didn’t really, not for you.

“Did you hear what I said?”

His lips twitched, “I heard you, but you’re not hearing me. Sober, I said.”

You shrugged, “You said drink, I did. So now we talk. No more deal. No more keeping me safe, no more watching over me or bringing me home. I need to— I need to let it all out.”

His lips pursed for a second but then he voiced quietly, “I’m listening.”

“I don’t know what else to say,” you shrugged and almost laughed at yourself. “I told you I want things.”

“You write about what you want.” You hummed. “So what is that main track?”

“What I want.”

You were looking at him, a void in your mind all of a sudden, but he hesitated. You said you wanted sex and the song was about desire. Maybe he was reading it wrong.

“What do you want?”

“It’s not a what.”

“Is it a who?”

Your mouth dried, so you nodded. You were staring right at the object of your desire but he looked confused.

He scratched his head and then tried, “Did you— Did you use those words on purpose?”

“What words?”

“What w—” He seemed bewildered, “My stage name. You used my stage name. Sugar? Was that on purpose?”

For a split second, you were frozen, livid, shocked, and then laughter bubbled out of you, “I thought I had been so clever about it. Saying sugar instead of suga.” He was staring at you and his inexpression only led you to push the air out of your lungs, “I know, you don’t have to say it. You won't touch me, even if pigs fly. I know that.”

“That's not true.”

You tilted your head, then laughed some more, “Yes, it is. You don't even see me as a woman, I'm just another producer.”

“That's also not true.”

“Right,” you chuckled. “Let me give you reasons to walk out that door right now. I not only wanted to sleep with you but wrote a whole main track about wanting you. About being dazed, overwhelmed by desire, wanting just more. Give it a listen. You know I struggle with titles, but the name of the song was the first thing I had.”

You chuckled again and turned around, rubbing your face for a moment. It was out. You didn’t care too much if anyone else knew, and if anyone had thought of it, they had been smart enough to stay quiet. But now he knew, and there was no going back. Sugar rush ride. You laughed again. You stood by that tile.

“I—” His voice sounded unsure for the first time and you turned to face him. “I don’t— Was it just a rush? You felt a rush at the thought of me and wrote that?”

“What difference does it make?”

“It makes a world of a difference,” he insisted, eyes set on you though he hadn’t moved an inch yet. “I still haven’t heard you say what you want now.”

“What I want?” You were incredulous, “Are you even listening? I’ve been saying nothing else! What?” He was unmoving, but for the first time, you could swear you saw his eyes glistening, and you were out of filters. “I want to be with you. I want you to fuck me already.” You shivered, the strength of your own words working against you. “I have since the day we met. I forgot I had an ex and was heartbroken to finger myself to the thought of you so many times I lost count.” He opened his mouth but you didn’t let him speak, “Shut up. I know what you'll say. I’ve wasted a year of my life. We're kind of friends and we work together. I know all that,” you huffed, exhausted. “So just leave.”

You turned to get to your ensuite bathroom and this time succeeded in pulling the dress out of your body, letting it fall to the ground with a rustle. You turned to reach the makeup remover over your counter and almost missed the way he was still standing in your room, looking at you. You blinked as you faced him, and your nipples hardened without your control with the goosebumps navigating your skin. You had nothing on, you rarely did in events like those. You used it to boost your self-esteem and feel sexy, and now you guessed he knew it too.

You removed your makeup relatively quickly and were curious to look back, and he was gone. You looked down with tears pooling in your eyes; but of course. Why did it all just have to come out of your mouth like that? Now he knew your deepest darkest secrets and would never want to work together again in the future. Great.

You stepped into the shower and let the warmth wash away your worries. You were not a child. You had feelings and wants. They were perhaps misplaced, but you didn’t harm anyone. You sighed; still, maybe it was best to look for a new job in the morning.

Once you made peace with that, your mind wandered to greener pastures, to more heavenly thoughts. You reviewed the expression he had as you told him crudely what you wanted, and it was good. Tense. In your wildest fantasies maybe it could be even a little possessive. And the thought of Min Yoongi getting possessive over you turned you on like nothing ever could.

Your hand trailed south along your skin and avoided the water. Your undeniable arousal made you chuckle. You had just told him you touched yourself thinking of him, and there you were again, like clockwork. He never told you not to, he didn’t act disgusted or look at you sideways, so suddenly you felt egged on.

You tilted your ass up and out of the water and spread your folds greedily, closing your eyes to think back to his dark eyes while you were naked in front of him. It was as if he wasn’t thinking, he was just looking. You didn’t see his eyes running up and down your body, but you didn’t have to. No way he would not be curious, even if he had walked out. 

His leaving stung but fuck, was he hot. Now he knew you thought of him and what you did while thinking of him. Your heart stung for a second with the thought that you would lose his friendship, but you got back on track. You were horny and he had created that mess. You tried to kindly tell him to leave so many times, it wasn’t your fault that he lingered until you were spurting the deepest truths and stripping naked to shower. 

And now he knew. He knew you didn't like wearing underwear when you had formal events, how sensitive your nipples were to the cold, and that you had a small blue birthmark at the end of your back. Fuck. He knew you were a dirty little whore fingering yourself to the thought of his cock buried deep—

Two arms wrapped around you and you moaned, too immersed in your fantasy to be startled. You were thinking about his arms around you, his chest strong for your back to take support, hands trailing down your body to explore with long fingers ready to spell your demise so easily—

His fingers were next to yours cupping your sex and you gasped, squirming away only to be pressed against his firm chest.

“No, continue,” his voice was a taunt as his free hand seemed indecisive about where to settle on your body. “You want to touch yourself? Go on.”

You stammered his name but his fingers were quickly learning from yours how to trace your heat, spread your slick, and make you tremble. You were shaking, half embarrassed, half feverish, until his other hand finally settled on groping your breast harshly and you moaned. You moaned with a hiss dragging with how much more you wanted, with your ass bucking into him only to rub more to get a better feeling of his hard cock on your ass. He was clothed, you could feel it, but the thought of him wanting this was driving you up the wall.

He was coming to you while you showered, entering it with clothes on just to reach you, grab you, touch you, and make you moan. There was no hiding it now, no possible misunderstanding. He had fingers rubbing your clit while his other hand squeezed your tit harshly, making your legs weak. Nothing was forcing him to stay, to touch you, to listen to you moan.

You bucked your hips again, you were so close to coming it was unstoppable. Yet a logical thought still tried to push through, “Are you sure about this? We're friends— We work tog—”

If only you weren’t rubbing your ass on his crotch to feel him better, to get tighter, to force his fingers on your clit to chase you.

His reply was a whisper to your ear over your wet hair, “You said what you wanted. You can feel how much I agree.”

Your walls squeezed, you were so ready, “You— You want this?”

His hips pushed into you once and you almost fell apart. “Don’t pretend you can’t feel it. I’m asking myself how you never noticed.”

You gripped his hand over your chest and he released the pressure, instantly making you squirm and whine in a complaint. You pressed his hand and he squeezed again, hearing attentively how your moan pitched wantonly. He hummed near your ear, nuzzling your wet skin with a smile adorning his lips. So that was how you liked it.

“No, I—” Your breath hitched with how he was working you and for the second time you thought you would fall apart, but the intensity reeled back to allow you to think. “Not like this. I noticed you treated me differently but I thought it was because I was the only girl in the studio—”

You staggered with a gasp, your body rushing a cold wave under your skin to contrast with the warm water of the shower, but again the sensation eased as the seconds ticked away. And you knew then that it was him, keeping you on the edge and not letting you fall apart. Him with his smooth fingers and nuzzling behind your ear.

“No, not because of that,” his voice was tense as his lips ghosted over your wet neck. “I was… charmed,” he admitted with a chuckle, and when you bucked your hips, he gripped you closer. “But I thought you saw me as a friend.” The thought alone made his lip pull in annoyance, but the slick covering his fingers at your heat soothed him, “I could have done this so many times if you had just asked.”

He bit down on the tender flesh between your shoulder and neck and you screamed, the sting mixing with your pleasure so viscerally that you could have cum on it alone. Only he sensed it too and moved his hand away, dragging yours along so you couldn’t finish it yourself, and you laughed quietly. He was suckling on your skin with meticulous precision and you could only grin widely, euphoric sparks flying out of control inside your belly.

“You could have said something too,” you sounded like you were whining, but you couldn’t stop yourself. He was now licking where he had just marked you and you were trembling, legs so weak it was embarrassing.

He let go and nuzzled along your neck to your spine in between your wet hair, “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. You either want it or you don’t. I thought you’d say something.”

You chuckled, “I wouldn’t ever. You should have known.”

He hummed and leaned back ever so slightly to look at the curve of your ass pressed against him. Then his hand trailed up, lashed by the shower while gently feeling and pressing your soft skin. He couldn’t believe he almost missed this.

“We have to work on that, then.”

You were still smiling when you let your head fall back to his shoulder, “If you did as I said—”

“I'd be out of here without ever getting to touch you,” his annoyance was clear in his voice, and even in the way his fingers pressed less gently. “Without knowing what’s on your mind. No, you,” he wrapped his arm across your torso to gently reach the base of your neck and you looked up, giving him more space. “You are not in charge here.”

He couldn’t have known the way you were grinning. You just let yourself fall further into his embrace, his hand settling on the base of your neck in a way you found comforting. Then he turned you gently to the side and your back hit the cold wall. A hiss came out of your lips quickly, but you were still smiling. Even as his dark eyes scanned you for your reaction, with one hand keeping you still by the neck. You were waiting with a familiar ease on your features, and he relaxed. That was enough.

Suddenly, your feet parted and you were surprised. He had used his foot to spread your legs and the way his free hand was tracing your wet body like he owned it shortcircuited your brain.

“I want to know what this dirty mind of yours has been keeping from me.”

You could hear a hint of eagerness and it was enough, “I won't tell you.”

“You will.” His tone was so sure, like he held the world at his beckoning, that you trembled. You were sure then he would hold yours, turn it upside down, inside out, and you’d love every second of it. “You will tell me every dream of yours, every fantasy, every little filthy fleeting thought. Then maybe we can do something about it.”

“Maybe?” You were eager, his hand was at your lower stomach but seemingly chose to ignore where you ached most.

“Maybe. If that's something you want.”

“I do, I want everything.”

His eyes jumped to yours; he needed to know if that was a spur-of-the-moment blurted line, or if you meant it. All he found were eager glistening eyes. “Everything?”

“Everything,” you confirmed, eyes staring at him like you were seeing stars.

For a split second, he considered that this could not be what he thought it was. Maybe you were still drunk and just talking big, maybe you had no idea of what you were saying. But the way you didn’t waver, even as he considered pulling the plug on everything despite being a millimeter away from snapping and making his thoughts come true did sway him. He brushed your jaw once so tenderly and you leaned into his touch. He’d take it easy while he discovered you, there was no rush.

“Alright,” he voiced and lowered his hand. “Show me first.”

“Show you what?” You were eager but you were starting to shiver.

“What you do when you think of me.”

“Didn’t you just catch me doing it?”

“You’re going to look at me this time.”

“Look?” You tilted your head slightly.

“Eyes on me,” his eyebrows twitched.

“Only my eyes?”

“And your thoughts.”

You grinned and looked away but his instant grip over your chin made you look up.

“You sure you want everything?”

You huffed with a sly smile and let your head fall back to the wall, “I’m sure.” His dark gaze was skeptical and your grin widened, “Oh, I want everything, sugar. Be sure not to hold back.”

He looked down to follow your movements and you almost laughed. Your hand was rubbing your clit so you could control your pleasure while his eyes roamed your body, the doubt lingering on his features. You could laugh again, but you didn’t. The way he doubted you was funny because he had no idea how crazy you were about him, but then it occurred to you that you also didn’t know the first thing about him. Did he like to watch? Would he guide you or leave you adrift? He had edged you three times already, did he notice? Did he do it on purpose to drive you crazy? 

Would he do it again?

Where exactly was his line? He was quiet now, eating you with his eyes and absorbing every little detail, from the way you breathed to your tongue peeking through your lips, to the way you gathered your arousal to coat your clit. You gasped ever so softly and his eyes instantly jumped to your face, and your lips twitched. You had him. How was it that you had the powerful Min Yoongi?

“What is going on in there?”

His voice was soothing and low, soft as a caress, and you smiled. “You.”

“Me how?”

“You told me to think about you,” your fingers hastened and you grinned.

“I told you I want to know your thoughts.”

You hummed with a smile and eyed him from head to toe shamelessly. You knew what he told you, what he wanted, but what about what you wanted?

Your fingers picked up the pace as your eyes gained a sly glim, and you thought he saw it. If he didn’t, he at least heard the wet sounds echoing in the bathroom.

“Do it slowly.”

You obeyed, so painfully slowly that your eyelashes fluttered, but what truly got you was the soothing of his features. He looked endeared, all because you did as he told you. He looked so sweet, so adorable, so loveable. You wanted to squeeze his precious cheeks.

So you reached forward to touch his face, but he slapped your hand away harshly, “No.” You bit your lip not to smile but his eyes were just hardening. “I’m still waiting.”

“For?”

You couldn’t help your grin as you squirmed ever so slightly against the wall. His precious dark eyes were so focused on you.

“Me how?”

But he wasn’t paying attention. “You right now.”

It didn’t surprise you that he didn’t become impatient, “Just me standing here?”

Your fingers were ever so quicker, “Stiff as a stick trying to control something that isn’t yours yet.”

His eyes glimmed and your tongue peeked out again to hide your laugh. It was fun seeing him being careful, but when would he actually touch you?

“Didn’t I say slower?”

You instantly did, and the recoil of the feeling had you fluttering your eyes closed.

“Eyes on me,” he sounded angrier now, closer too.

You did open your eyes but pursed your lips; there was still half an arm's distance between you. If he wouldn’t get the hint, then you’d have to do it yourself.

“Strip,” you asked, swallowing dryly.

He scoffed and instantly looked down, “I said slow.”

“If you want it slow, do it yourself.”

It happened so fast you couldn’t process it. Like a rubberband snapping, his hand darted to your neck pulling and pushing hard enough that your head banged the wall but not harshly enough that it hurt you. It did daze you for a second, but your lips just formed a grin until you laughed. 

Two could play that game, apparently, and he looked so fucking hot when he was mad. You loved that his hand stayed put like a necklace, a reminder that he wasn’t touching your heat, but he owned it. Along with your thoughts and your pleasure, he owned you. And that would have been enough to snap you, but what about him?

So you closed your eyes again, blatantly going against what he wanted, and were not surprised when his free hand darted to pinch your hardened nipple. You moaned instantly, facing him with the same challenge, meeting dark eyes that seemed to have given up on making you talk, but not on making you do as you were told.

So every time you blinked, he pinched you. Your nipples, your sides, your ass, earning moans every time, but nothing more, until he snapped again. He jumped on you and you just made your neck more available for him to latch on and bite. Your moan instantly pitched, and it finally seemed worth it. He was squeezing your tits and biting you while you played yourself to his presence, and he finally was involved in it too.

“Don’t come.”

The joke was that you wanted to do as he said, but you couldn’t anymore. Your moans were higher now, just like your daze, and in a second—

He yanked your hand away, “That’s enough.”

“Why? Didn’t you want to see what happens when I think of you?”

Your voice was light but your chest heaving gave your state away, and the more he kissed and bit down your neck, the worse it became. You needed him, needed more than just his thoughts or presence. You gripped his shoulders to bring him closer, you needed—

A whimper pushed out of you as you hid in his neck, but he didn’t stop. You were sure that had to be at least three fingers just pushing into you roughly with no preparation other than your repeated edging. No preparation came, whatsoever, because as soon as they were in, he started pumping his fingers in and out of you at a vicious speed. 

You instantly lost your grip on reality, though not on his shoulders, as even the air seemed to still inside your lungs. The sultry sounds echoing around you didn’t just come from his digits beckoning you closer insanely fast, but also from your whimpers. Because there was a fire burning you from the inside out with every moan as he bit and licked closer to your ear. As your nails sank through his shirt to reach his skin, your legs trembled, and the wall behind you became scorching hot while he pressed you to it.

From deep within your frenzy you couldn’t hear his growl near your ear, or feel the way his drool dripped down your neck or his fingers dag at your skin. He could hear you, pitchy moans quickly becoming an addictive sound, yet this time it was different. Your cunt was squeezing around him like a vice, and the harder it made for him to finger fuck you, the more he wanted to.

“Don’t come,” he grunted right under your ear, but you couldn’t register. You just moaned even more desperately, gripping him to you so hard he thought he’d melt. “You’ll cum when I tell you to.”

He was trying to hold on to something when he pulled away to look at you, but he could see you weren’t listening. You were flushed and panting hastily, avid with your nerves on fire. You could only see him and you had been waiting too long.

“Please,” you sounded a second away from breaking into tears and he admired you for it at that moment. You were so strong for him. And so pliable.

So he kissed your cheek gently and said your name once, taking pleasure from rolling it over his tongue. “Go on, cum.”

And it was all you needed to snap, tears coming to your eyes as your hips convulsed and searched for friction. You didn’t think you needed it because your walls were tensing, and again and again while desperate cries fell from your lips. His fingers calmed down inside you, his breath the same temperature as your blazing cheeks, and you thought a sweet blanket of lethargy would cover you soon.

Only he never stopped fucking you with his fingers, and so you whimpered and tried to push him away weakly.

“Don’t come down,” he murmured to your cheek. “Stay, don’t let it go.” 

Your nails sank on his shoulder blades again as you squinted your eyes shut. Tears roamed your eyes as you tried breathing and pushing through your sensitivity. You could handle your clit being sensitive, but inside you, that was a whole different story. You felt like you had been pounded to perfection, only to be further kneaded into sensations you had never felt before.

You looked at him, eyes droopy with whines coming out of your mouth. Why weren’t you surprised?

“Give me another one,” he asked gently, but you didn’t answer. 

How could you, he twisted his hand to reach into you deeper and your whole core burned. He was relighting a fire you thought had been extinguished, only to leave you breathless, dripping slick down his hand as you moaned between gritted teeth. 

So beautiful, so tense. He wanted to release you. 

“Look at me,” he asked softly, and you did. His eyes gave you a tenderness that made your heart convulse. How could he act sweetly like that, as if half of his hand wasn’t pounding your g-spot to bits? “You’re so good. Doing so well, giving me everything I want.” Your only reply was your moans, but you were listening. “I need you to focus for me.” He leaned to whisper in your ear, “Focus on the tension. You’re so tight around my fingers. Relax, don’t fight it. That’s it, move with me,” his voice was sweeter, and you softened. It was as if he was in it with you. As if he could feel it too. As if he was fucking you and not just sticking his fingers inside you. “You feel so good,” his whisper felt like the highest form of praise, and your moan pitched, melting alongside your nerves. He was so happy at the sound as he traced his lips down your cheek to whisper to the corner of your mouth, “Come with me.”

You moved with him once, twice, seeing in his eyes how much he was seeing and feeling you before looking at his lips, so close. He brushed yours ever so slightly in the hint of a kiss, moving with you as if you were jumping on his cock and not on his digits, and it was what pushed you. You pulled him closer and he let his mouth fall to yours, and your orgasm instantly started, forcing you to swerve so you could moan and breathe as you disintegrated. 

He let you feel your ecstasy to the fullest, biting his lip and feeding off of your release as if it were oxygen. Your trembling lips, your nails that marked his shoulders, your throbbing walls squeezing and gripping around him in sweet delight. All of you like a charming melody, sweet and utopic. Your moans were music until the very last, and by then, he had to taste it.

His free hand cupped your cheek and coaxed you into a sloppy kiss that you instantly reacted to. You were still not there, though, too dazed from the high to realize it fully; until you did. And you gasped. Yoongi’s tongue was licking at your bottom lip gently as if you were a delicacy that needed to be tasted slowly, and you couldn’t believe it.

You parted your lips to let him in and he pressed you even closer, enclosing you in such a euphoric moment you thought you’d pop like a firework. Like a cocoon filled with dazed butterflies with nowhere to go. He was kissing you and your wildest dreams seemed to have just come true. Tears were still hanging onto your waterline, and when he pressed your lips to move away and breathe, you were scared that it had all been a dream.

“So good, you’re so good.”

His voice was calm and tender, and it gave you the courage to open your eyes. He was so close with his eyes roaming your features swiftly, taking in the smallest detail as if he was finally free to. Then he smiled at your wonder, and you were convinced it was a dream.

That notion didn’t dissipate as he reached to the side to grab a towel and dry you with gentleness, enveloping you in the fluffy material as if it were a cloud. You sniffled, drained from the energy that you had just burned away and woozy from his sweet pats as he tried to dry the excess water out of your long hair.

Not even when he took your hand and pulled you back into your bedroom did the haze recede. Instead, you saw him pull the duvet open for you to get in the bed and you lost the towel and got in without a thought. Once you settled in, you did have your first thought: where was he going?

But he was back soon, and you knew in the back of your mind that he was just making the place tidy: getting the coffee cup from the floor to put it on the table, stopping the shower, and shutting the lights. Then he grabbed your towel from the floor and dried his own hair with hastened movements before throwing it aside. His eyes fell on you and your own picked up on the wet spots on his clothes. He was probably cold too.

“Come here,” you voiced hoarsely, staying in a ball to conserve the heat. He instantly stepped to you, but you pouted, “Clothes off first.”

He blinked and looked down, but then smirked and did as you asked. Of course, he couldn’t make your bed humid and uncomfortable with his clothes. Your eyes were on him, unable to separate from the soft unblemished skin revealing itself more and more. His muscles moved as he bent down, wide shoulders and soft biceps trying to hide the strength he had. But you just observed quietly, tucked in the duvet. You could still feel his fingers inside and all around you, pressing and owning you easily. But you could keep a secret, his power and strength were only for you to know.

He lowered his pants and boxers and your eyes glued to him like a magnet. He was hard and pretty, with protruding veins on a thick length that had your imagination doing cartwheels.

Your thoughts were interrupted quickly when he opened the duvet to get beside you and you shivered. You opened your arms and legs to welcome him, and in your haze, you suddenly thought that it all felt so domestic.

He grabbed your hand and pulled it away to tell you he wanted to lie behind you and you agreed instantaneously. His arms wrapped around you just as fast as you rubbed your ass to his crotch, and he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your head.

“You must be tired.”

“No,” your voice was a low whimper as his warmth relaxed your nerve ends.

“No?” He sounded amused and soft and you had to admit that his chest was the fluffiest pillow.

“No…”

You didn't want to, but you were slowly dozing off. Slowly, and a bit more with every soothing breath you took together.

You shook and forced your eyes open, “I don't want to fall asleep.”

“Why?”

Your heart beamed and your lips curved; he was still holding you with his mouth to your head.

“Because… it will end,” you admitted, falling deeper into his touch as he nuzzled your hair. Suddenly you realized his boner was half gone. “You didn't come, I haven't touched you yet. I don't want to miss the opportunity.”

“We have tomorrow.”

“You might change your mind.”

“So can you.”

“I won't,” you insisted with a hint of annoyance as you twisted to look back at him.

“I won't either,” he promised calmly, glistening eyes set on you.

Your eyes were closing, the comfort and lethargy were pulling you away. Still, you focused on his lips, “Kiss me.”

He met your lips with no hesitation and you let that sweet touch soothe you. When he pulled away and kissed your nose, you slipped asleep.

When you woke up in the morning, two things made you alert: your soreness and the lack of space. You groaned with the sweet throb between your legs but frowned because something was over you. Turning back, the most precious image graced your vision and made stars twinkle in your eyes.

Min Yoongi was sleeping as quietly as a mouse with an arm around your shoulders as if to keep you tucked in. You brushed his hair aside and his nose twitched, making you instantly melt. Why did he look so sweet asleep? How could he be such a beast as a musician, a genius producer, and a darling in private?

You kept brushing his hair soothingly, thinking that intimately he was not a darling. No, not cute, not sweet. If that throb between your legs meant something, it was that Yoongi was the kind that owned. He owned his music, his process, the studio room, and you, for all you cared. Your finger trailed his cheek as you recalled your words the night before. He said he wanted you, the same as you, and he said he wouldn't change his mind, but what if he did? What if you lost your opportunity the night before?

Maybe you were still half asleep; otherwise, the fact that you were both in bed naked would have meant something. As it stood, you were anxious about what reality could bring. So when he opened his eyes and saw you, your instinct was to kiss him.

You brushed his lips gently but surely, giving him more than enough time and place to push you away if he wanted to. So when he didn't, you became bolder. Your tongue teased the seam of his lips and your hand roamed his chest, and as you got lost, you became vulnerable. 

He waited as long as he could. He let you kiss him, let you press, let you push him a bit back into the pillow, let you cup his jaw, but you never moved away. Never stopped, and never changed your mind. You did say you wanted everything, and he thought he had given you enough time to take it back.

So he grabbed your hair and rolled over you to get on top, pushing his tongue past your lips without asking. And you moaned, instantly weak to him taking something that in all that concerned you belonged to him anyway.

You thought that meant a green light to explore him just as he was doing, passing his hand down your side to your waist, but no. You palmed the expanse of his chest and he interrupted his mission simply to grab your wrists and pull them down. He pressed them once to the mattress, then released one to pass his slender fingers between your breasts and you took the opportunity again. Your hand sneakily went under the sheets to scratch his hip up to his ass, feeling how firm he was over you, yet he caught you before you could squeeze him.

“Stay still.”

He could have been saying good morning, yet you puffed, “Let me.”

“No.”

“But I want to,” you pouted and he nibbled down your neck.

“Too bad.”

You wanted to be good to him; you liked him touching you and his hard cock ever so close to your core did make you hazy with want. But as he kissed and licked and palmed and pressed you from head to toe, you grew impatient. Incredibly so when he turned you belly down to do the same down the length of your spine as if he had all the time in the world. Even more when he raised your ass and spread your legs, nibbling at your ass cheeks and squeezing them roughly. Aggravatingly so when he noticed your wetness dripping down your inner thigh and made it his pastime to try to reach it with his tongue.

“Yoongiiiiii,” you whined at the end of your patience, waves of goosebumps driving you insane as he spread your asscheeks more to reach your wet inner thighs.

“Hmm,” he was having way too much fun.

“Let me touch you too.”

And ruin the fun? “No.”

You whined again, “But I've waited.”

“Not enough.”

“Why not?” You were sulking despite your spasms around nothing. He could feel them without directly touching you, and it drove him to bite and kiss harder. You squirmed at his lack of reply, “How long more?”

“Until I say so.”

You shook your ass half in annoyance half in desperation, “I've waited enough. At least fuck me.”

“No.”

It was as though he was shooing a fly.

“Come on,” you dragged. “Get to the good part.” He snorted but didn't move. “Fuck me, come on.”

“No.”

“But you'll feel so good.”

He sighed with your taste on his tongue, “I know.”

“So do it.”

“Hmmmm.”

You thought there would be progress as he touched your core ever so lightly. But you waited and waited for what felt like an eternity. And although the tip of his fingers explored every nook and cranny slowly and gently, even the embarrassing ones, you were still not closer to what you wanted.

And so you snapped, “I asked you to fuck me.” He hummed, but your tone was assertive, “I won't shut up until you do.”

He changed absolutely nothing, wet fingers dragging to your nipples lightly.  And so you insisted.

“I'm waiting. How long will you keep me waiting? Should I do it myself?”

Your hand moved and he put it in place instantly.

“I can show you how it's done,” your tone became mocking. “In case you’re lost.” His teeth brushed the back of your thigh and you smirked, “If you never used your cock before—”

A slap to your asscheek echoed and you grinned. It was firm, a warning, but what could you do? You always liked to talk big in bed, and you couldn’t miss the opportunity to rile him up.

“Nothing to be ashamed of— If you don't know where to go or what to do— Should I take over?”

Every slap felt like a win and that last one wasn't any different. He gave more of him when he did it, and you felt it in the sting, the touch, the attention. When he grabbed your asscheeks and squeezed until you cried out, you thought that he might be holding back.

“You talk too much,” he said quietly.

“And you fuck too little.”

He pushed you harshly to fall with your belly up and grabbed your head firmly in place, using his body over you to fully press you down the mattress.

“I like to fuck people who indulge me.”

“Liar.” It escaped your lips before you could think. You were too horny to think, but then you laughed, “Fucking liar. You're rock hard, you want to fuck me so bad is not even funny.”

“Your point?”

“You like it,” you whispered, raising your head to reach his lips, which he didn't let happen. You looked into his eyes, “You like my talking. You adore every spank and every little reason I give you to do it.”

His expression didn't change except for the laughter in his eyes, “Can you blame me?”

“Fuck no.”

“Is it a problem?” He seemed cautious. 

“Yoongi,” you sighed. “I said everything.”

His lips finally showed a smile as he got on his forearms to look at you with new eyes.

“But Yoongi,” you called with a pout. “I did wait long enough.”

He grinned widely, so endearingly you wanted to kiss his entire adorable face. So loveable you wanted to drive him crazy.

“You wait until I tell you to.”

He seemed happy now as he leaned to kiss and play with your chest, pink tongue messing with your perky nipples to the point you squirmed. And it felt good, so good your legs were restless under him, opening but struggling to get him to align. He tortured your nipples, suckling and biting only to smile at your fussiness. You could only take so much.

You squealed, “If you don’t put your cock in me soon I’ll fucking scream.”

“Scream?” He was amused, barely separating his mouth from your breast.

But you sucked in a breath and screamed at the top of your lungs. Only for a second though; his hand covered your mouth and forced you to look at him.

“Shut it.”

He raised his hand carefully with your eyes locked, and all you did was roll your hips to get his cock near your dripping core. You thought he had learned something, so when he moved too but against you, keeping what you wanted purposefully at bay, you decided that holding back was not getting you anywhere.

You threw your head back and screamed again, and when his hand darted to muffle it, you bit it.

You took another breath, but before you could scream his hand wrapped around your neck firmly. You looked into his eyes as lightheadedness relaxed your neck and shoulders. He was so careful, but you were at such ease.

“Are you going to be quiet?”

His fingers were perfect around your throat, “I want to cream your cock so bad.”

Your voice was a wanton whine as your glistening eyes focused on him. You couldn't describe how much you were melting, how much he relaxed you only to tense you up the next second if he so chose to. How much that drove you to want him like crazy.

“Is that a dirty thought?” You nodded once, pleading with your eyes. He nuzzled your nose sweetly, “Not yet.”

“Then I won't be quiet.”

Your voice was gentle like a breeze but carried consequence, and when he nuzzled you further, you knew everything went both ways. He knew it too, and he wasn't stopping you.

You tentatively tried a scream and his hand wrapped firmer, observing you with sparkles in his eyes.

You huffed, cheeks becoming hot, “Why won’t you just do what I want?”

“Why won’t you quiet down?”

“And do your job for you?” 

You could see the smile in his eyes — he knew you were embarrassed. He was just seeing how far you’d go in your brattiness, but you were so horny you were lost. 

“All I’m asking for is your cock, don’t you have one?” He raised an eyebrow at your taunt; you could both feel his hard shaft pressed to your thigh. “So why don’t you shut me up? Do you need me to tell you how to use your dick?”

“Just because you’re needy and desperate, it doesn’t mean you should get what you want.”

The burn traveled to your chest; he was scolding you and it was like you’d been shaken. Of course, he’d answer you and deal with your attitude. You never thought he’d be the type to let it fly but to actually have him doing it was burning you from the inside out.

“But what I want is you,” you sighed, batting your eyelashes flagrantly. “Let me get on my knees, I’ll do whatever you like.”

He took only a second, “No, I like where you are.” You grinned in absolute joy; you also loved being under him with his hand around your neck. You felt taken care of and grounded, even as your mind became chaotic in the hazyness. “And there goes another dirty thought, hm?”

You bit your lip, “In my fantasies you always give it to me so right.”

“This isn’t a fantasy anymore.”

You grinned, “No, thank fuck. You look so much better pissed off in real life.”

He raised an eyebrow, “You want to piss me off?”

You almost laughed, “I want you to fuck me.”

“I never said I wouldn't,” he adjusted his hips but purposefully made it impossible for you to have him, and you squinted. He was smiling, “I just told you to wait.”

“And I told you I’d scream.”

You were snappy and he grinned, “Can’t we be civilized about this?”

His lips ghosted you and your chest burned again, “Nothing civilized about the way I want you to fuck me senseless.”

Your voice was wanton, bordering a moan as your hips rolled just to feel the tease of his cock near your core, and he kissed down your chin, “So you’ll scream?”

“Like hell.”

“No changing your mind?”

“Fuck no. Stop stalling,” you whined, moving your spread legs in the hopes of catching him, but he only chuckled.

“Go on, then.”

He got off you and you huffed in annoyance and screamed. It was short and you opened your eyes to see him just observing you with amusement. Why was it so funny to him when you were getting upset?

So you took a deep breath and screamed again and this time your lips pulled in a smile because what the heck were you doing?

“That’s it?”

His taunt had you take a deep breath and scream again, only to fall short. You covered your eyes and stifled a laugh. It reminded you of how you screamed on roller coasters.

“You must not have enough reasons to scream yet.”

You bit your lip, imagining the reasons you could have, the ways he could make you scream. The bed dipped next to you but you stayed in your reverie. In it, Yoongi touched you. He slapped your cunt with his cock and promised to use you. He grabbed you by the neck while he pounded into you so hard you saw stars.

You huffed in impatience, neediness making you bold; you were about to sit up and do something when you stopped. He was throwing his leg over you and his cock was so close your eyes nearly crossed. He grabbed your head in place, but you were staring, fixed, jaw falling open and lax instantly. You could pretend you wanted to scream more but you were just salivating, so when he aimed his cock at you, you just met him halfway.

His taste hit your buds quickly and moved to reach your throat, and you lost it. Your eyes rolled as you closed them, the salty traces leaving you dizzy, and the way he pushed himself down your throat made you squirm in waves of pleasure. It felt hot and intense and wild as he did it again and again, each time getting a better sense of how much you could take. You barely cared about breathing; he was finally using your mouth, fucking you, showing you how much he wanted you without holding back, and with each push, he made you feel better than the last. Elated, special — he was groaning and getting riled up down your throat because you made him feel that good.

Suddenly, he pulled back and you followed him as long as you could before he grabbed your arms and raised them above your head to stop you. He had heard you choke so he was probably worried, but you only sighed in impatience.

“So greedy,” he taunted, pressing your wrists down firmly. But he had a glint in his eyes — he was paying attention to you. Not worried, just caring.

“Aren’t you learning?” You said as you tried not to melt, but it was too late. He chuckled and his smile made you happy. “Keep going,” you asked softly, despite the tears running down to your hairline. “Please.”

He brushed his thumbs on your wrists for a second with his eyes set on you. You were such a handful and he couldn’t love it any better. Asking for him like that secretly drove him crazy, and made him want to give you everything you could ever wish for, no matter what. So when you leaned back and opened your mouth, it was his pleasure to stuff it with his dick. He grabbed your wrists more firmly and supported his weight on them to help him lean forward and give you the fucking you craved.

Time and time again he snapped his hips to get his cock down your throat, and it was challenging. His muscles were burning, but so were his lower stomach and balls as he tried not to come. You moaned and choked and bounced as he fucked your head into the mattress, and yet you were totally relaxed. Your arms and hands were still, calm as you got used and loved it. And he loved it too, but for your first time together and after skipping it the night before, he thought this time he wanted more.

He pulled away from you and it took you a second, but you instantly sulked. He settled between your legs as you cleaned the drool, “So I’m not going to swallow the sugar rush?”

He chuckled, “No, not this time.” You pursed your lips and were about to whine about him stopping so soon when he asked, “Do you have a condom?”

Your eyes widened and you instantly scrammed to conjure up one. Shit, shit shit, you thought as you turned your room upside down, then your toiletries, then your bathroom. Why the fuck didn’t you have one? Well, sure, you knew why, but you were so angry now. You could not miss this opportunity!

You turned to your kitchen, desperate at that point until you gasped. You searched for your first aid box and dug until you finally found a lost wrapper. You waved it victoriously as you strode back to your room and to bed, and Yoongi was there to receive you with a look you couldn’t identify. He grabbed your arm and threw you on the bed before pinning you down from between your legs and kissing you till you lost your breath.

If he wanted to fuck you before, now he wanted to screw you so hard you’d only ever remember his cock. To think you said you wanted to be with him the whole last year, and that you hadn’t been with anyone else because of it made him wild. Why had you both played it so safe? He had been to your apartment so many times, set you to sleep on that very same bed, and yet never once did he get the inkling that you wanted him. Not as he wanted you. But just now, you were dripping with how much you wanted him, squirming, begging for him to fuck you, and trying to rile him up so he would. You jolted at his fingers in your folds, rubbing your chest to his for any hint of a touch, moaning when he pulled your head back by your hair. You wanted him bad and he was going to give it to you.

He pulled away from you and you almost screamed in frustration, but seeing him putting the condom on cooled you just enough to stay quiet. Your hands even stayed above your head voluntarily as you waited patiently, thinking he wouldn’t waste that condom, he’d surely fuck you finally.

You moaned suddenly and looked down, confused for a second, but you weren’t dreaming. He was grabbing his cock and slapping your cunt with it right over your clit. You squirmed with need, but he kept doing it harder and harder, wet sounds echoing with your excitement.

“Fuck, I just knew it,” you mumbled, clenching around nothing right before his eyes.

“Knew what?”

“That you’d do that,” you moaned, hands tightly gripping each other so you would stay put.

He hummed as he did it quicker, seeing your slick connect to his cock, “That so? What else do you think I’ll do?”

You were burning all the way to your shoulders, trying to move with him so that his cock could give you friction, and he didn’t stop you. So you answered through gritted teeth, “Stick it in, get deep, fucking use me until I’m stuffed with your cum.”

Your voice disappeared with the lack of breath; he was dragging his cock over your clit now and it was the sweetest reward. 

“Filthy thoughts you’re having, hmm?” You were lost in your motion, rolling your hips to earn that friction so you gasped when he pushed his cock inside you, loving the burn as your core split to accommodate his girth. “Read my fucking mind.”

You screamed when he bottomed out, biting your lip with the way he was forcing himself inside you. Then you opened your eyes to see him and instantly clenched around him, and he smirked. 

“Been thinking about fucking me, huh?” You could barely hold a thought, but the opportunity to tease him was too sweet.

“It has crossed my mind,” he said and snapped his hips, and you didn’t know whether to gasp or moan. He’d hit you deep and hard, you knew he would, and it made you even tighter. His nails dag at your hips, “So many times.” He was starting slow but deep and you could do nothing but moan. “How you would moan, what you would want, how you would give in and let me take you,” every wish was pointed by a deep thrust. “Now look at you.” You looked down: your tits were bouncing with every hit, gushing sounds echoed along with your moans from how wet your heat was, and the sight of his thick cock pushing between your slit to enter you was the cherry on top. It was the can of cream about to blow you full, and you wanted to get filled. “Almost cuming even though I’ve barely started.”

“Cause you feel so good,” you breathed in a moan.

He leaned to grope your taunting tits, “You told me to use you.”

“Fuck, please.”

He gritted his teeth and adjusted you better so he could pick up the pace. And what a vicious pace it was, fast and steady, leaving you so hazed and lost, that you had no words. He slapped your tits around and you clenched, tears roaming your eyes with how good and sweet it was. It didn’t hurt, every touch sparkled pleasure in your veins, and the sight of him hitting and scratching, his squeezes on every bit of you only made you even more sensitive. More elated and euphoric, so much so you were mumbling more with every moan involuntarily. He was slapping and roughly marking your chest as you asked, and suddenly you threw your head back and looked at him.

“Harder,” you asked out of breath, and he slapped your tit so hard you screamed before moaning deeply. “Just not my face.”

You thought to tell him from within a glimpse of logic, and he nodded and took note of your limit. Instead, he leaned forward and groped both boobs again and you squirmed desperately.

“Squeeze,” you breathed, your moan pitching. He did, but it wasn’t enough, “Please!”

He did, a bit harder with every thrust into your messy cunt. It was maybe selfish, but he wanted to see how you unraveled. How you wanted those strong sensations, how you craved something more intense each time and with every bit of strength, you transformed it into a beautiful pleasure that had you bursting.

He saw you coming again, writhing around thoughtlessly with the intensity of your pleasure, so hard he didn’t have to look down to see you throbbing around his cock. He still did though, mesmerized by it, only to chuckle. You had left a ring of white around the base of his cock; you just had to have your way in the end.

He leaned in to kiss you through your haze, slowly sensing with his lips the condition you were in. At first, your reaction was delayed, the brush of your lips falling behind as you recovered. But then you reacted and pushed back against his tongue, and he knew you were good.

He pulled back and turned you around, and you helped and got on all fours instantly. He didn’t wait, he aimed his cock at you and entered your velvety embrace as soon as he could. You arched your back for him and pressed back into him a couple of times to feel him deeper, and he grinned.

“Finally. So obedient,” he taunted, squeezing your ass cheeks to spread for him.

“You’re finally fucking me senseless.”

Your voice was a whisper, and he smirked. You asked him to use you, and he was doing a good job at it. But now he wanted to make you scream, to mark you so hard you’d never be anything but his. He couldn’t help it; now that his cock was shoved deep inside you, he didn’t want anything else. Now that he knew what you tasted like, what you sounded like, and how filthy your mind and mouth could be, he wanted nothing else. He saw you trying to get him deeper, huffing and puffing as you swayed with him, and his chest tightened. The possessiveness you were inspiring in him was raw and dangerous, but he didn’t want to fight it.

So he gave you both what you wanted: he smacked your ass as he pounded into you, seeing the way it bounced in either direction until he couldn’t focus anymore. Until he was desperate to own you, to hear you scream, to know you’d beg for him forever. It wasn’t enough; no matter how hard you screamed, he wanted more and he wanted it to last. 

Grabbing your hair to pull it into showing the beautiful curve of your neck was a mistake, though. Suddenly he saw how beautiful you were, vulnerable and immersed in every sensation he gave to you. He wanted you to be his, and suddenly it hit him that you already were. And you loved it.

And it snapped his senses, overthrowing his strong grip on his pleasure as if he had never had any. He became sloppy but still held on to your hips to sink and cum as deeply inside you as he possibly could. He groaned with every peak, jerking to milk the sensation between your tight walls as best as he could until he stilled. Fuck, how the hell did you do that to him?

He noticed then you were trembling and his priorities immediately surfaced, “Are you okay?”

You hummed, but he wasn’t having it. He pulled out despite your whine and helped you to softly lay on your side. Then he hopped off the bed, dealt with the condom, and searched around for water and a snack.

You were still stunned, out from the intensity of the emotions that had tensed and relaxed your body simultaneously. Your soul didn’t know how to handle what just happened, and the only thing that occurred to you before he came back was that you had totally surrendered. You didn’t force yourself to be tame and quiet, or said and did what the other person wanted so you wouldn’t ruin it for them. You were yourself, through and through, and Yoongi fucking ate you up like dessert.

The bed dipped behind you and you turned to him, sighing happily when he pulled you in to snuggle.

“Here — water and chocolate.”

You glanced at the bottle and bar and smiled widely. Your heart was right all along, and although you knew it was definitely too soon, there were special words at the tip of your tongue trying to get out.

Instead, you let him insist and sit you up to take a sip of water and a bite before letting you fall back into his arms in a sweaty embrace that you wanted with all your heart.

He was kissing your head and tracing your arm quietly when you decided to tell him, “Next time cover me with cum.”

He raised an eyebrow as he glanced at you, and you pouted.

“Just… You wanted to know what I think about.”

“You think about that?”

“Sometimes.”

He smirked and squeezed you inside his arms, “What else have you been hiding from me?”

“You have no idea,” you laughed.

You were melting and relaxing into his touch as he pecked your head when he whispered, “Are we bad?”

Your heart hurt for a second, what? But then you realized what he was saying: your song. When you wrote a conversation you once imagined you both could have had:

You're bad, you liar. 

It's me who's bad, I know this bad desire, sugar.

So you chuckled and sang along to the melody, “What did you do to me, sugar?”

[nereidprinc3ss]

come on home

in which the only person who can comfort you after your breakup with spencer reid, is spencer reid

inspired by the song "summer's end" by the artist currently known as phoebe bridgers

wc 2857

warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), minor mommy issues, angst, happy ending

a/n: thank you to the person who requested this:) u r an angel and I listened to this song the whole time i wrote (if you haven't heard, listen!!) i sincerely hope you enjoy, i like this one a lot<3

She hung up on you. 

Forty-seven minutes of being insulted and berated after you’d called her looking for comfort, and you put up with every single cruel word—just for your mother to hang up on you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do, so you shouldn’t be surprised. An ache, you’d expect—but it shouldn’t sting like this. You thought you knew better. 

Now you’re in a ball on your couch, clutching your phone to your chest and crying. There’s no point hiding it. Your roommate is out with her girlfriend for the evening—which is too bad because even though you feel like being alone, you’re sure that’s the wrong call. Your other friends are out having fun tonight, too. They’d even invited you, but you turned them down. Look where that had gotten you. Obviously, your mother is not the person you’re about to run to for comfort, either. 

You try to pretend, while you’re thinking of all these people who have ever cared for you, that Spencer Reid isn’t on your mind at all. You try to pretend like you don’t care that the person who loved you until you believed you actually deserved it is a contact going stale deep in the bowels of your text cache. With bleary eyes you scroll down, looking for your conversation where it gathers dust—the end of your relationship was a mutual decision, and you’re friendly, but you haven’t texted in a few weeks. Probably because every time the conversation starts to feel a little too easy, or the phone call lasts a little too long, that aching void in your chest gets worse and worse. Like pain in a phantom limb, you become acutely aware of what you do not have and how much it hurts.  

So blame it on the tears, or the mind-muddling melodrama of your relationship with your mother, blame it on anything but the truth—when your thumb drops on that call button like the plunger on a syringe, you don’t regret it.  

What you’re not expecting is for him to answer after the first ring. 

“Hi,” you say with a snuffle before Spencer can get a word in. There’s a brief interlude, in which you pick at your nails, comfortable to just sit in silence if that’s what he wants. As long as he’s there. 

“Hi.” Hearing his voice instantly melts a bit of the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Another pause, for which you remain silent, because you can feel him formulating a question—and you’d like to hear him speak again. “...am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?” 

Your lips purse and twist to the side, pained and comforted by how easily he can tell that you’re distraught. One word across a tinny connection, and he knows. 

“No. Yes. I mean... I guess that’s why I called you. But you don’t have to ask me about it.” You sniff again and take a deep breath. “How was your day? What state are you in?” 

“I’m in the district,” he answers after a moment, easing into a casualness that he likely doesn’t feel for your sake. Wind crunches through the speaker. He probably just got out of work. “My day was... it was good. I got to talk about my job to a bunch of elementary schoolers, which is always a confidence boost.” 

You chuckle, still laying on your side on the couch and watching storm clouds gathering outside. 

“Nice, nice. What else?” 

“Let’s see... I forgot lunch, so I had three oranges, and they were actually pretty good. I reread Game of Thrones—I don’t know why I did that. I’m never going to like that book.” 

“Masochist,” you smile. He laughs, and you hear the sound of a car door opening. 

“Oh! I talked to my mom. Believe it or not, she says hi.” 

A completely inadvertent snort constitutes your response. It’s not what you meant to do, and out of context it’s sort of mean, but you actually think it’s incredibly endearing that he still talks to his mother about you. He scrambles to explain himself. 

“I swear, we barely talked about you this time. Mostly we talked about her new boyfriend Leonard.” 

“No, no, that’s not... I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or your mom. That’s really sweet, actually. Tell her I say hi too.” 

When he next speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“I will.” Another long pause. You imagine him sitting in the parking lot at Quantico, keys vertical in the ignition of his old car and feeling the silence just as much as you are. He surprises you by not ending the conversation—instead he asks a question. It is concern, poorly disguised with nervous humor. Or maybe you just know him too well. “Do I get to find out what’s on your mind, or are you leaving me in suspense here?”  

You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Um... well, actually, I just got off the phone with my mom, too. It didn’t go so well,” you laugh halfheartedly, “I know it was dumb to try and have an actual conversation with her, but... you know me. Always following blind optimism to the depths of hell.” 

“Why’d you call your mom?” he asks, so gently it brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes. Still, you attempt to put a cheerful affect on your strained voice. 

“Mm, you know. Just needed someone to talk to.” 

Spencer’s knowing sigh does little to make you feel better. 

“You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it’s... it’s different now, but... I care about you a lot. And, you know, I receive very few phone calls, so the line is pretty much always open.” 

Your laugh quickly devolves into a cry. 

“I appreciate that, but I can’t talk to you about everything.” 

“Why not?” he pleads immediately, voice thin and desperate like it’s his most burning question. A million lies dance over the tip of your tongue. A million things that feel safer to say than the truth. But in the end, it comes out anyway—choked, and so quiet, but aloud nonetheless. 

“Because I’m trying really hard to stop missing you so much.” 

Another long beat of silence. The back of your throat feels dry and hollow—a cage for your hummingbird heart. 

“If it hurts too much to talk to me, you don’t need to do that to yourself. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself thinking you’re alone. You are... so important to me. I will always try to take care of you the best I can—whether that means staying away or being at your front door. If you ever need me, or even... vaguely want me, I will be there.” 

Each word caves your resolve. Each syllable is a slap in the face to progress you’d been pretending to make. You can be strong—you've proven that over the past ten weeks. You can be stone-faced and slash at your heart until the scar tissue is thick and jagged, and eventually it won’t hurt anymore. But maybe, by letting someone tend to the wounds, they’ll heal a little nicer. A little kinder. Even if you can’t undo the damage, maybe one day you’ll be soft again. 

“What if I vaguely want you right now?” you sniffle. 

Finally, you hear the silver jingle of keys turning. The sputter and rumble of an old engine coming to life. 

“Then I’m on my way.” 

Twenty four minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.  

After the call had ended, you’d wondered if you made it all up. Surely your ex-boyfriend wasn’t actually about to show up at your apartment. Someone you’ve grieved for can’t just come back—there are countless horror novels and movies based upon that very tenet. Does it matter if they ever actually died? How long is ten weeks, really? It feels like a lifetime. 

You shuffle across the room, wiping under your eyes with your already damp sleeves, and undoing all the locks Spencer had conditioned you to start using. When the door cracks open, and you see Spencer standing there, windswept and concerned, for the first time in months, it hits you like a tidal wave. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, still just as in love with him as you ever were. The relief that floods your veins as he looks down at you with so much care in his eyes is like sinking into warm water. It’s a dead giveaway, and maybe it makes this whole thing a terrible idea, but you can’t seem to care very much. You open the door wider, and he enters, and he stands in your kitchen with his hands in his coat pocket as you shut the door and he’s perfect. It dawns on you that for the first time since the breakup, you feel safe. Like you don’t have to be a stone pillar anymore. This, of course, translates into even more tears, which you try to hide as you face away, re-locking the door.  

“Sweetheart...” he sighs, because you can’t hide anything from him. Hearing the resonance of his voice so close to you once more is overwhelming. In an instant you’re rushing into his arms, and he accepts you without hesitation. You bury your teary face in the vetiver safety of his button-up and slip your arms under his coat, as if you could absorb his warmth and forever hide from the world that way. He pulls you even closer. It’s terrible and cruel how much he is exactly what you needed. “What’s wrong? What did she say?” 

You shake your head and gasp a small sob. 

Truthfully, you’re not really crying about the petty insults from your mother anymore. You’re back to square one, the reason you’d called your mother to begin with—you miss the man whose arms are currently wound around your shoulders. 

His hand smooths over the back of your hair. 

“Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” 

You stay like that—content even as you cry because being with him feels so much safer than being alone. It feels right—or perhaps it’s just familiar. You don’t know which is worse.  

Spencer is rubbing soothing lines up and down your back as you cling to him, soaking him up in all his ephemeral, comforting glory. He surprises you by chuckling—it vibrates through his chest, buzzing against your ear. 

“Nice Magritte print. I bet the person who bought that has fantastic taste.” 

“Are you gonna ask for it back?” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket. He is, of course, referring to the painting you’d more or less stolen from his apartment seven months ago. You really don’t want him to take it home. It’s the most overt Spencer memorabilia you’d allowed yourself to keep in plain sight. 

“No, baby. You can keep it.” The words are low, and kind, and they settle you some, but you can’t seem to get him close enough. “What can I do?” he whispers after a moment, helpless as you take a shuddering breath. “Can I make you tea? Have you eaten?” 

“Will you just... stay for a little bit? I’ll—I promise I’ll stop crying.” 

There is an unexpected lull where you thought you’d receive pretty immediate agreement, but before you can pull back and ask what’s wrong, he murmurs, “yeah. I can stay for a while. But you have to kick me out before it gets too late.” 

You wonder if you’re imagining the double-entendre that seems to underline his words in bold red ink. Spencer is too smart to have not noticed a thing like that. You don’t mention it—it all boils down to the same unspoken idea. 

Don’t let me stay, because I might not leave. 

“I will,” you sniff, finally stepping back and wiping your own tears. It hurts to lose his touch, but at least you know he’s not going anywhere for the next few hours. This, as opposed to everything else lately, can be a beginning instead of an end.  

At least, until he goes home. 

Three and a half hours later, after tea, an impromptu dinner comprised mostly of cheese and crackers, and several vinyl changes on your record player (which served only as background noise for your long, ambling conversations), things are seeming to wind down to a natural stopping point. Which you hate. The whole time you’d had a dull ache in your chest because talking to him was easier than breathing and you knew it wouldn’t last. There had been one or two false bottoms already—the first when you’d yawned around nine, and the second when you’d gotten up to do your skincare and brush your teeth half an hour later. Even then he’d just leaned against the doorframe, watching your reflection above the sink as you talked for fifteen more minutes. Now you stand across from each other in the kitchen, plates restacked and everything in order. Of course he’d insisted on helping you clean up. 

“I should go,” he says, with a soft sort of finality in his voice.  

“Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin?” you tease gently, to hide how much you don’t want him to leave. He smiles—a small, weary thing—but genuinely and endlessly charmed by you. 

“That among other things.” 

“Would you—would you walk me to my room first?” 

The hesitance is clear in his eyes and the way his lips part as if to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, but you're sure he’s really going to leave in a moment and you’re also sure he won’t deny you this one small thing before he does. 

“Okay.” 

It’s a short, silent walk through the living room and down the hall to your bedroom door, but you can feel him trailing behind you the whole way. You stop in front of your open door, turning face to face with him.  

“Thanks,” you murmur.  

His lips pull into a melancholy smile. 

“Anytime.” 

There’s nothing left to do but wrap your arms around each other once more, tuck yourself into the you-sized space between his head and shoulder and hold on for as long as he’ll let you. The hug lingers for longer than is wise. Spencer adjusts his arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nuzzle against his neck, grateful that at least he seems as reluctant to let this end as you are.  

But eventually, it relaxes. Your hold on each other loosens. His face is just inches from yours, and you get to study every plane and valley and line like you’d thought you never would again. It seems he’s doing the same—losing himself in the luxury of seeing you up close. 

“Will you kiss me goodnight?” you whisper, unable to muster any self-consciousness though you know it’s a fool’s errand. Spencer strokes your waist. 

“I can’t do that, honey.” 

“Why not?” 

His voice is just as quiet as yours. It falters slightly as he speaks, so gently, so patiently. 

“Because we’re not together anymore.” 

“Why not?” 

Your feeble, desperate supplication sounds pitiable even to you. You’re not proud, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, either. All you want is an answer. But it’s like a child asking why the sky is blue, or the earth is round. There is a definitive explanation, but mostly, the adult will shrug, and say, that’s just how it is. 

Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut. His head tilts down. 

“We can’t do this again, sweetheart. You know why we’re not together.” 

In theory—yes. You’d had so many conversations when you’d broken up. It had been a long, painful process, spanning multiple all-nighters at his kitchen table, nursing coffee and trying to convince each other and yourselves that it was the right choice. But it just feels like a horrible, horrible mistake. You feel desperate to explain this to him before he slips away again—the words come out flustered, inelegant as you cling to him.

“But I don’t think I’m getting better without you. I tried, I tried so hard to be good on my own, but everything is worse and harder and—and we weren’t sure about it then, and I don’t think it was the right choice, because I still really need you. Like, all the time. I’m—it’s not getting better without you. Nothing got better.” 

He swallows, eyes darting between yours for an infinite second. You’re breathless and your heart is pounding after your confession—you can feel your eyes stinging with the few tears that managed to escape as you spoke. 

“Everything is worse,” he agrees shakily. “Everything. I’m—I’m getting disciplinary infractions from Hotch like I’m a child because I can’t focus on anything. Game of Thrones is the most complex literature I can comprehend right now. I had to use a calculator the other day.” 

You want to laugh, but nothing is funny until he’s yours again. 

“Then come back. Please come back, Spencer.” 

Finally, he leans closer, until your heads are pressed together, and his nose bumps yours, feather light. You're dizzy. You exhale. He inhales. 

“I don’t think I knew how to leave in the first place.” 

When he kisses you, it feels like home. 

[nintendont2502]

Guess who's relistening to the Strings Attatched performance again

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

The music JJK men would fuck you to <3

Tags: nsfw, mdni

An: YES I'm including Mahito.. I'm sorry but I love him :(

Incl: Satoru, Suguru, Choso, Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Mahito

SATORU

Satoru would be a little basic and fuck you to The Weeknd and a few other similar artists. He loves the slow, sensual beat as he effortlessly rolls his hips deep inside you over and over again.

Sometimes, he'll turn on Cbat just to fuck with you and make you laugh, but when you start laughing and your cute little cunt tightens around him, he goes feral. You don't even realize Cbat played in it's full entirety from how mindless you are from his cock <3

He'll also start out with Hey Daddy (Daddy's Home) just for the shits and giggles.

Songs:

Hey Daddy (Daddy's Home) - Usher

Coming Down - The Weeknd

Cbat - Hudson Mohawke

Hotel - Montell Fish

SUGURU

Suguru fucks to Sleep Token. You cannot change my mind. That man thrives off the building tension that Sleep Token songs create. He starts off slow with a lot of teasing, but by the end of the songs, he has you seeing stars from how hard he's pounding into you. He quite literally steals the breath from your lungs.

He'll sometimes switch it over to Bad Omens if he's feeling extra rude. He fucks hard and mean to their songs, making sure you know exactly who your pussy belongs to.

Songs:

Jaws - Sleep Token

Take Me Back to Eden - Sleep Token

Like a Villain - Bad Omens

THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND - Bad Omens

CHOSO

Choso fucks you to Deftones when he's in a dominant mood. He loves the guitar rift that plays in the back while he's making you whimper and grab at the sheets. Your incoherent murmurs of praise mixed with the loud music in the back is enough to make his head spin.

Yet he also loves that he can make love to you to Deftones as well. They're so versatile for whatever mood he's in at the moment.

Songs:

My Own Summer (Shove it) - Deftones

Change (In the House of Flies) - Deftones

Beware - Deftones

God Complex - VIOLENT VIRA

TOJI

Toji prefers to fuck without music because he loves the sound of your needy whines and the sound of your cunt absolutely drooling all around him while he ruthlessly pummels his cock deep inside you. However, when he's in the mood, he turns on the nastiest divorced dad rock.

It just gets him in the mood to make love to your entire body, and I mean your ENTIRE body. His favorite way to unwind from a hard day is with his tongue deep in your cunt with good music playing in the background.

Songs:

Closer - Nine Inch Nails

Addicted - Saving Abel

Bad Girlfriend - Theory of A Deadman

Crazy Bitch - Buckcherry

SUKUNA

This man does NOT fuck you to music. The sounds of your desperate cries and begging for more is music to his hears. He doesn't even listen to modern day music, and Heien Era music just doesn't fuck as hard as music does today.

There is one song though... He likes the beat, and the lyrics are good too. It's just not a song you'd expect the King of Curses to listen to....

Songs:

Cat Girls Are Ruining My Life! - Corpse

NANAMI

Nanami makes love to you with Hoizer songs in the background. He loves listening to his songs because they remind him of you. He loves the slow and methodical beat while he's making you feel so so good. He'll whisper sweet things in your ear while he has your legs on his shoulders.

Songs:

Work Song - Hoizer

Too Sweet - Hoizer

Sailor Song - Gigi Perez

American Wedding - Frank Ocean

MAHITO

Mahito is constantly under stimulated, so he loves loud, chaotic music to feel the constant void he feels. Though, when he's balls deep inside you, he doesn't need the unpredictable music. He does still prefer the fast-paced music because let's face it. This man doesn't understand the concept of rhythm. I'll pray for your pussy :)

Songs:

Ecstacy - SUICIDAL-IDOL

IN MY MOUTH - Black Dresses

wutiwant - Saraunh0ly

Love Potions - BJ Lips

[froggiewrites]

Hii, I hope you're doing well, if not I'll hope things will go better!

I really liked your writing like it's so good!!

I have an sfw request about Ace.

So basically reader is feeling really sick recently so they spend a lot of time with Marco who gives them advices and all, and Ace gets jealous about this cause he thinks that reader is interested in Marco so one day when he's with the both of them he just says something like "oh I wouldn't want to be the third wheel" like something that clearly shows that he thought the two of them were now a couple and when he learns that they're not he immediately confess to reader?

I really hope it's not too precise, if you want to change things feel free to since you're the artist here, and I hope you understood (English isn't my first language) thank you so much for the other stories!

Take care, bye bye!

Hi, thank you so much for your well wishes and your request! Sorry this took so long, I burned myself out a little bit with the Halloween event and it took me a little time to get back into the swing of things. This one is short and sweet, and I hope you like it!

Third Wheeling It

Pairing: Ace x Reader

SFW

Summary: You've been spending a lot of time down in the clinic with Marco recently, and Ace gets the wrong idea. Warnings: Fluff, Misunderstandings, Very Little Hurt/Lots of Comfort, Idiots in Love Word Count: 1.6k

You’re convinced you’re never going to feel normal again. You have a headache you just can’t shake, and a fatigue down to your bones. You haven’t been able to shake whatever it is, no matter how much you rest.

“Are you really sure I just need to take it easy? It’s been weeks.”

Marco gives you a sympathetic look. “I know, but you really do just need time. You burned yourself out. Recovering from that takes a while.” He had been telling you that since you first started making regular visits to his office a couple weeks ago. You had spent a majority of the last week curled up in one of the beds in the clinic, pretending to rest but really just bothering Marco to entertain yourself. You suppose it was rest, in a way, but you liked to pretend you were somehow tricking him, getting away with something. It made you feel less helpless, and helped ease the ache of missing your normal routine.

You throw yourself down on the cot you had claimed for your own. “But I want to be better now.”

He laughs. “Don’t we all. If desire were all it took, I would be out of a job.”

“You could still fight. You don’t need to be a doctor to be a pirate.”

“True enough. But my point still stands: if our bodies listened to what we wanted there would be no need for doctors. Sometimes there really is no magic solution other than time.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, it does.” He passes by your cot, ruffling your hair light as he walks past. “But you’ll pull through.”

“Will you sit with me? We can suffer together.”

“I have work to do,” he says, sitting on the edge of your cot with a slight smile anyway. “And I wouldn’t really call hanging out with you suffering.”

You smile sleepily. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“You need to raise your standards.”

“My standards are sky high, thank you very much.”

“Oh yeah? What are they, then?”

“One, handsome. Two, nice to me. Three, end of list.”

He laughs. “God, the bar is in the ground for you, huh? Let me correct that for you: three, be Portgas D. Ace.”

You blush. “That–I–uh. Shut up!”

Marco is still laughing at you when you hear a throat clear in the doorway. You both look up to see the man you were just speaking of leaning against the doorframe, his eyes avoiding yours, a slight frown on his lips. “Sorry, I just–I heard you were down here again, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You smile at him, bright and earnest. “I’m doing alright, I guess. As well as I can be.”

Marco stands, moving away from your bed and back to his desk, more than willing to let Ace take his place at your sickbed. “They’re fine, really. They just hate listening to me.”

“I’d like listening to you if you had better things to say.”

“Ouch!” He puts a hand over his chest. “I’m just doing my job here!”

As you both giggle with each other, Marco trying to distract you and you trying to let him, you both miss Ace shifting uncomfortably and biting his lip. However, once you’ve come back down, you don’t miss the way he’s looking at you, a look far too intense to dismiss. It’s strange, somewhere half between hurt and resignation. Something flashes in his eyes, something pained, but before you can ask him what’s wrong he’s already turned his back. “I’ll leave you two to hang out. I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”

“You’re leaving already?” You can’t leave the sorrow out of your voice or the pout off of your face. “But I’ve missed you.” And you had, really. Spending most of your time down here with Marco means you’ve barely spent any time at all with Ace these past few weeks. You had missed everything about him, from his smile to his laugh to his loud, obnoxious snores when he passed out halfway through dinner. 

His shoulders stiffen. His voice is tight when he speaks again. “You shouldn’t say things like that. You could give a guy the wrong idea.”

You sit up, wincing but forcing yourself through the discomfort. “What kind of wrong idea?”

“The idea that you might be…interested.”

“That sounds like the right idea, actually.”

He whips around, his face painted with hurt. “That isn’t funny.”

“Who’s joking?”

“I…really. This isn’t…this is cruel. Having to third wheel with you two is hard enough without…”

Marco finally speaks up, his voice filled with confusion. “Third wheel?”

“Yeah, watching you two get closer while I have to pretend I’m fine is hard enough, you guys don’t need to rub it in my face.” He doesn’t sound angry, really, just defeated and pained. “I’m trying to be happy for you, you don’t need to make it harder than it already is.”

You furrow your brow. “Happy for us?”

Marco can’t help the surprised bark of a laugh that leaves him. “You think we’re dating?”

Ace pauses. “You…aren’t?”

“Hell no!”

“Absolutely not!”

You and Marco both instantly refute the claim, perhaps a little more harshly than necessary.

Ace lights up like the sun. “You mean it?”

“Of course we mean it!” You cry.

“Why wouldn’t we mean it?” Marco chuckles, voice filled with the sort of weary but unwavering affection Ace tends to bring out in people. 

“Will you go out with me?” Ace stares at you with wide, pleading eyes, already moving to beg on his hands and knees, as though he expects rejection.

“You aren’t really my type,” Marco quips with a laugh, before closing the curtain to give you two some privacy.

It’s your turn to be shocked, heart beating out of your chest and cheeks flushing. “You–I–What?”

He grins, on his knees in front of you, taking a hand in his. “I like you, a lot. Will you go out with me?”

“This is so sudden.” You want to say yes, of course. Why wouldn’t you? But you weren’t expecting such a confession today, and your head is still pounding, and you can’t quite get over the thought that Marco is listening right behind the curtain. You know that Ace doesn’t care about any of those things, blind to anything but his goal in any situation, but you could never be so headstrong, so carefree. Could you?

“I’ve liked you from the moment I saw you.” His smile is growing ever wider, his eyes filling with hope. “I thought I had lost my chance, and I will absolutely never take that risk again. Will you be mine? Or, I guess, could I be yours?”

Your cheeks are on fire, and your brain is melting, but your mouth moves despite yourself. “Yes,” you hear yourself say.

You’re pinned to the bed as he throws himself at you, laughing joyously. “Yes? Oh my god, yes!” He tucks his face into your neck, and you can feel his smile. “I never thought it’d be a yes.”

“How could it be anything else?” Your voice is soft, more vulnerable than you’d like. But you would never understand how he could expect anything less than success. You don’t know how anyone could speak to Ace for longer than five minutes and not fall madly and deeply in love with everything about him: his smile, his humor, his confidence. He shines like the sun, and you don’t know how anyone could ever resist basking in his warmth for as long as they can.

“Well up until a couple minutes ago I thought you were in love with Marco.”

You laugh. “I’ve been sick, Ace. He’s a doctor.”

He doesn’t respond, and you can see a bit of pink at the tips of his ears. “How was I supposed to know?”

“You could have asked.”

“You should listen to them,” Marco calls from behind the curtain. “This was entirely self-inflicted.”

“Shut up!” He finally leaves your neck just to shout at Marco, cheeks hot. “Would you have asked?”

“Yes. I’m a grown man. I can handle a tough conversation.”

“Well–I–Shut up!”

Marco laughs, and you can hear the door slam shut behind him. Ace buries himself in your neck again, his strong arms pulling around you even tighter, and you can’t help but smile. He seems so delicate like this, so unlike his usual self, and you can’t help but admire him. He’s so charming even now, so vulnerable and small. “I would have been too nervous to ask too,” you quietly reassure him. “And it doesn’t matter anyway, because you said it.”

He smiles against your skin. “I did say it,” he mumbles. “And you accepted.”

“I did.”

“I really like you.”

“I really like you, too.”

You don’t have a moment to react before his lips are on yours, slightly chapped and hesitant. You imagine this is what sunlight tastes like, warm and inviting. His hand rests on your cheek, thumb brushing lightly against your skin. He’s smiling as he pulls away. “And now I can do that whenever I want.”

You grin. “You can. You’re encouraged, even.”

And so he kisses you again. Marco leaves you too alone for as long as he can justify to himself, and when he finally interrupts you two again you find yourself more than ready to leave the clinic again, a warm hand intertwined with yours and your headache nearly entirely gone.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

[cilliansmesoftly]

talk too much

pairing: glen powell x fem!reader

summary: you’re glen’s makeup artist for twisters and he won’t stop talking

warning: based on that one tiktok of glen getting his makeup done for hit man and his mouth is nonstop moving, kissing, glen being a professional yapper

ੈ✩‧₊˚ working with glen was seriously a dream. he was kind, smart, funny, hard-working. he was everything a man should be and you loved being his makeup artist.

the only downside was his lack of understanding when to shut the hell up.

you loved his stories, you loved hearing about his life, but when you’re trying to perfect his skin prep and makeup, it’s a little difficult to focus when all glen can do is distract you.

“oh, y/n,” glen groaned in disgust turning his head away and wiping at his lip. “you got primer in my mouth.”

and what you wanted to say was, “then shut your damn mouth while my hands are near your lips.” but you didn’t, you just quietly apologized and got back to work. he had to be on set in twenty minutes and you were no where near being done because of glen and his indestructible vocal cords. you and him got into a lot of trouble on set for being late to shoots, but what could you do? tell your boss to be quiet and risk being fired? absolutely not, so you just kept quiet and tried to get his makeup done quickly and as best as you could.

glen was talking away about this dog he wanted to get and you were listening, truly you were, but you were also color correcting the slight bags under his eyes and a few blemishes near his chin. suddenly, glen laughed at something and you smudged concealer all on his bottom lip and down his chin.

“shit!” you cursed, getting a makeup wipe from your desk and carefully wiping away the mess on his face.

“it’s okay.” he said carefully, grabbing the wipe from your hand to wipe it away himself so you could take a break. “you don’t have to rush, y/n.”

“yes i do, you only have,” you checked the small watch on your wrist. “13 minutes until you have to be on set and i haven’t even blended your concealer yet. they’re gonna get rid of me, i just know it.”

“it’s kind of hard for them to get rid of you when you’re my personal makeup artist.” he cockily reminded you. you scowled at his smirking face and took the wipe from his hand. your index finger and thumb held his chin while you gently swiped his bottom lip. glen started to talk again and you sighed in frustration as you had to concentrate even harder to not get the wipe into his moving mouth. “i don’t quite like the taste of makeup remover, babe.”

“then shut the fuck up!” you finally lost it. you finally snapped at the nicest man on earth and you immediately stepped back. “i’m so sorry, glen.”

“it’s okay.” he said, reaching for your hand. “you know, you can tell me you need me to close my lips. i just get so nervous around you, my mouth goes a thousand miles a minute.”

you perked up immediately. glen doesn’t get nervous around anyone. why would he get nervous around you? before you could speak, glen beat you to it, as usual.

“i hired you on personally because i think you’re seriously talented, first of all, but also because you’re the most beautiful, kind, and caring girl i’ve ever met.” he turned to you in his swivel chair. “and it’s okay if you don’t want me back, i completely understand and i’ll never, ever, ever bring it up again, but please don’t quit. i couldn’t take losing you as a friend, y/n. i wouldn’t even know what to do-”

you don’t why you did it. maybe it was because you were annoyed at his ramblings, or perhaps it was because you realized you had always liked him too, ever since you got put on your first job with glen, years ago. but you leaned and captured your lips with his. glen reacted immediately, bringing you closer to him by your hips. your hands went into his hair and you’re sure you were probably messing up almost all the work you had just tried so hard to finish, but you didn’t care.

as you felt glen’s hands round your ass, you pulled back slightly breathless with a smile on your face. “you talk too much.”

“well, put your lips on mine and shut me up.”

[synqiri]

THE SCULPTOR'S MUSE.

in which you make an artist out of him.

PAIRING: veritas ratio x gn!reader

WARNINGS: none

WORDCOUNT: 0.9K || CONTENT: reader wears a “headpiece” (you can imagine anything), a little sappy

NOTES: some ratio writing practice :3

for all his genius, veritas ratio finds himself at a loss.

it is completely unlike him to produce something so tremendously… unsatisfactory. he studies the marble sculpture before him critically. there is no doubt that his technique is flawless, and loath is he to admit it, his grasp on your facial proportions is not the issue either. 

moreover, it is a simple piece of art he is not unused to creating. after all, he has made dozens upon dozens of sculptures of himself. he had planned on doing the very same today. yet the moment he began to chisel, he found himself sculpting you.

in his mind’s eye, you are grinning, and it shows in your laugh lines and crows’ feet. sunlight spills across your figure, and under its warmth, your skin glimmers. your head is ever so slightly tilted as you turn back to look at him, your shoulders relaxed and your headpiece askew.

and therein lies the problem — try as he might, the cold marble in his hands cannot encapsulate all the radiance that is you. 

he sighs unwittingly, pinching the bridge of his nose. perhaps he should have taken up painting instead. 

the door to his studio swings open then. he hears you before he sees you — in the chirpy hum that dances under your breath, and in the careless pitter-patter of your footsteps. besides, only you would be as fearless as to interrupt him in the middle of his work. or are you the only person he’d allow to do so? that seemed like an important distinction.

“veritas!” you call, by way of greeting. your gaze finds the marble head in his hands before flickering up to meet his eyes. “i went to your office to see you just now, but your assistant said i’d find you here. admiring yourself again?”

“unfortunately not, i’m afraid,” he tells you loftily, setting the marble down its podium.

he falls silent as you shuffle up to him from behind, curiously surveying his work of art. even without looking, he can feel you tense, and you draw a soft, sharp breath.

“that’s… me,” you say, tentatively. your hand reaches for the marble for a fraction of a second, only for you to catch yourself, withdrawing. “aw, you sculpted me?”

“if it isn’t already obvious enough,” he drawls. “then yes, i did.”

you huff, petting the marble head. “it’s gorgeous. damn, you should make me one of those alabaster heads and i can start wearing that around instead.”

“don’t be stupid,” he replies. no sculpture would ever be able to outshine you. he rolls his eyes, but he cannot deny the fondness that seeps into his smile.

you wrinkle your nose at him, sticking out a tongue. “geez, i was just asking. politely! whatever. anyway, i'm touched. i can't believe you like me enough to sculpt me so prettily — artists only make art of the people they love. and when they’re paid — but whatever, that’s not the point.”

he glances down at the sculpture he had made of you, then thinks of your brilliance mere stone cannot capture. the words leave his lips before his mind has time to catch up with him.

“i am no artist.”

you raise an eyebrow, confusion flickering across your face. “why not? i mean, you do sculpt, and sculptors are artists too.”

he stills, eyes narrowing. you are practically insinuating that he… has feelings for you. 

for all the wit he usually has, veritas ratio doesn’t quite know what to say to you. it’s painfully awkward, see, to have been caught in the midst of the most intimate of acts. he had gently, carefully, meticulously etched his memory of you onto stone, to be preserved, admired, remembered. he supposes that in itself could be called nothing but a profession of love.

it is an illogical, incomprehensible thing, one he barely understands himself. yet even then, it didn’t make it any less true.

"i don’t know how you do it," you say softly. your gaze is fixed on the sculpture in your hands, and you laugh humorlessly. "i can't paint you, did you know that? believe me, i've tried — but they always turn out not looking right. it’s like the paint itself can’t express everything i wanna express about you.”

you trace the shell of your marble ear gently. “but look at this. you’ve even got the shape of my ear perfect.”

“that sculpture can hardly be considered perfect,” he finds himself saying. a small, hidden part of him in the recesses of his heart is gratified you’ve experienced the same. “it’s missing the most crucial piece — for no marble can emulate a soul.”

“ugh, i hate how you’re always right,” you grumble, shooting him a dark glare, but your growing smile betrays you. you grin, smacking his shoulder.

he meets your gaze easily, and that’s when the realisation hits. traits like your crows’ feet and your laugh lines and your crooked grin were no challenge for him to replicate — yet no amount of skill in the universe would ever enable him to sculpt the glimmer in your eyes or the radiance in your smile. 

that thought settles in him like a tender thing. he would have time all the time in the world to reflect on it later. 

now, veritas ratio only gives you a smug, self-satisfied look. “of course. when am i ever wrong?” 

[eternalsams]

Never Again ↝ Tyler Owens

pairing: Tyler Owens x gn!reader

content/warning: bit of fluff, pet names, mention of sex (but no description whatsoever), mockery, swearing, slight angst

summary: When Tyler is invited on a talk show about his notoriety on YouTube, he doesn't expect that kind of meeting.

words count: 1.6k

notes: english isn't my first language, please take that into consideration. NOT PROOF READ

You just came home from the groceries, your arms loaded with full bags and balancing yourself not to drop the keys when Tyler almost jumped on you. "Babe, I'm gonna be on TV!" He exclaimed, holding his phone and showing you the email he received. You blinked at him and didn't answer immediately, trying to process his words. "You what?" You then asked. He slipped his phone in the back pocket of his jeans and grabbed the two bags you were carrying, helping you get everything inside. "They somehow found my email and asked me if I wanted to be interviewed on live TV. National TV, babe!" He laughed and his phone started ringing. He pulled it out and his smile widened. "It's Boone. Don't worry about the groceries, I'll store everything myself, beautiful." He answered the phone and went to your shared room to call his best friend. You could hear his excited voice as him and Boone started getting each other going about the whole thing.

You grabbed Tyler's laptop and opened his mails, reading the last one he received. He was right, it was a big thing. The Tornado Wranglers would get a lot of new visibility with that interview. You were excited for Tyler, he loved being on camera, that was for sure. But he also loved meeting people who were interested in what he was doing. With that interview, he had the chance of showing the whole country how fascinating weather could truly be. You were disrupted in your reading by Tyler's scream in the bedroom, quickly followed by a loud laugh. You chuckled at how excited he was and closed the laptop before starting to put away the groceries. Tyler quickly joined you after his numerous phone calls and gently scolded you when he noticed you started storing the groceries while he said he'd do it himself.

"Did you answer yet?" You asked him after the euphoria of the moment passed. "No, not yet." He chuckled as he grabbed a piece of bread to eat it. "I wanted to tell you and the guys first. But especially you. What do you think?" He then asked, looking into your eyes. "I think it's amazing, Tyler. You're so passionate about what you do and you know so much. You'll be able to show people how interesting the weather can be. Maybe some kids are gonna go study meteorology because of you." You smiled at him as you grabbed his hand in yours. Your boyfriend smiled at you and brought your hand to his lips to place a delicate kiss on your knuckles. "It's gonna be amazing." He practically day-dreamed. You laughed and bent over the table to gently kiss his lips, your hand taking place on his cheek.

Two weeks later, you were standing behind Tyler as a girl brushed some mattifying powder on his face. He didn't tell you but you knew his heart was beating fast and hard in his chest, both from excitement and anxiety. He was so scared to make a fool of himself, to fumble over his words and look like he was a fraud. When the makeup artist finished her job, someone opened the door and announced you had 5 minutes left before Tyler was called on-stage. "You ready?" You asked, smoothing his flannel shirt. "Why is my heart beating so fast? I drive through tornado for a living, I shouldn't be scared of this." He sighed, carefully rubbing his eyes not to ruin the makeup artist's work. "Don't worry, it's just the nerves. You'll be great." You ran your fingers in his hair, styling it the way you loved it and he kept it everyday. "I'm just a bit upset Boone and the others weren't invited. We're a team, they should be there too." He closed his eyes and tried to focus on your fingers against his scalp.

The door opened one last time and a man called for Tyler. You kissed his cheek and wished him good luck before you watched him leave with the man to get everything checked for the mic. A woman came to lead you in another room where the program was on TV. You thanked her and grabbed a glass of water before taking a seat on the sofa. A few minutes later, Tyler was called on-stage and you saw him on the TV. He was smiling like a kid on Christmas morning as he shook the host's hand and took a seat in front of the man. A wide smile took place on your lips as you watched the man you love glow with pride on cameras.

"Tyler, I'm so glad you could join us tonight. You have quite a reputation on the internet!" The host started when the applause stopped in the audience. "The pleasure is mutual, thank you very much for the invite. It's an honor to be here." Tyler said, looking around at the audience. "For anyone who doesn't know Tyler, he posts videos on YouTube of himself and his staff driving through tornados in Oklahoma and Arkansas. You must be some crazy fella to do this willingly!" The man said, making the audience laugh and Tyler chuckled. "It's a good summary, yes. But we're professionals, we are equipped to do so and we only drive through EF1s or small EF2s." Tyler reminded with a smile. "EF1, EF2, what's that?" You knew the host wasn't stupid enough to not know what that meant, but you were grateful that Tyler could explain it, the passion on his face was pure gold. "It's a scale we give tornados. But what's really interesting is that we don't scale a tornado according to its size or its speed. We give them their scale according to their damages." Tyler explained. "So how do you know you're driving through an EF1 and not an EF5?" The host asked. "I studied meteorology so I can identify whether it's gonna turn bad or not and if I catch a single sign it's gonna turn violent, we just leave and find shelter." He explained with simple words.

"So you studied meteorology, got a degree, and still shoot fireworks up tornados for YouTube?" The man laughed and you could see something break inside Tyler's eyes. He played it off and chuckled. "Well, yes. I love that job, I'm having fun with my best friends and entertaining people. That's the dream." He laughed and looked around, starting to notice some unpleasant looks in the audience. "And have you ever tried doing anything else in that car when the tornado is hitting you? I don't know, read a book, play scrabble or even have sex." New laughter were heard in the audience as the host laughed at his own joke. A dry smile stretched Tyler's lips as he slowly nodded, thinking about how to answer this. He couldn't just leave, he wanted to be the more mature on this stage. Before he could even say anything, the host looked back at him with a smile. "Your partner is part of your team, right? Maybe if you asked, you could get a lot of views." He joked, making Tyler's blood boil in his veins. "That won't be YouTube anymore, that's more like reality show. That's not what we do." Some laughter were heard in the audience but he knew better.

"Alright, alright... But be honest for a minute, you have a million followers on YouTube, your whole staff-" The host started to say. "We're a team. I'm not the boss, I'm only the driver." Tyler corrected and you could feel he started to lose his patience. "Your team is very active on social media, you must've had some weird requests." The host then asked, faking a smile for the television. Tyler knew what he was trying to do, he wanted him to admit he'd been asked for a sextape through a tornado. And even though he received that peculiar request once or twice, nobody needed to know. You and him would never record that kind of video to post on the internet. "Someone once asked us to eat a pizza. And we all ended up having tomato sauce all over our faces." Tyler answered with a chuckle, now counting down the minutes before the end of the show. You watched as Tyler started to tap his foot in annoyance and you almost prayed for the host to stop his disrespectful questions.

The show regained a more respectful rhythm and when Tyler was dismissed, he immediately joined you in the backroom. "Let's go." He only said, grabbing your bag before taking your hand in his and walking, if not running, to the exit. He didn't say anything more until you were both in the car. He didn't start the engine, only staring at the steering wheel. "Tyler?" You gently put your hand on his arm but he violently hit the wheel with his hand. "Fuck! I really thought... I'm so stupid for thinking they'd be willing to listen to me." He rubbed his face and fought the tears away. Shame, embarrassement and anger were swirling inside him. "It's not your fault, Tyler. They were real bastards in there, you didn't deserve this." You tried to calm him down. You leaned over and placed a kiss on his shoulder, feeling him breathe deeply and relax. "Come on, let's go back to the hotel and tomorrow we'll have our flight home. You can tell Boone New York was shit and he'll tell you 'I told you so' before offering you a beer." You chuckled softly as you gently stroked his arm. Tyler nodded and started the rental before driving to your hotel. At least the show runners had the decency to pay for everything.

taglist:

@iliketopgun @callsigns-haze @toxiqueamour @choppedgalaxynerd @luvrofdilfsandmilfs @y-nk-live @books4ever03 @hookslove1592 @ipowell-tyler @floydsglasses @blue-aconite @28cnn @iscience02

@senawashere @melidot @cevansbaby-dove @katiemcrae @twisterschaser @starsrfun @lovemmay @lyn-js @lynnestra44 @classyunknownlover @imaginesofdreams @horseslovers2016

@og-baby-ob14 @attastarkey @sehnsuchts-trunken @tngrace @rockandrollbuckarooo @natzp03 @havaneselover08 @callsignrambam @trustingmina @obsessed-fan-alert @siriuslysirius05

@goodoldfashionedunderdog @xsoultruthx @hotsauceeater @mae-murdock @kadygirl @zombiedixon89 @kamperzz @lokisvariant @nixlikestix8 @another-tblr-fangirl @wpdarlingpan @puttyly

[hitomisuzuya]

AAAAAHHH HI HOW ARE YOU GRAAAH SORRY ABOUT MY LAST REQ I MEANT READER NOT USER

CAN YOU DO A NSFW WITH NAWASHI (SHIBARI ARTIST) SCARA WHO DOES SOME REALLY COMPLEX STUFF ON READER THEN THEY DO THE BANG BANG ‼️‼️ 😋

THANK YOU I LOVE YOUR WORKS AAAAH

- 🎧

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Degradation. Bondage/Shibari. Breeding kink. Cream pie. Fingersucking. Modern AU.

Hi dear❤️ Sorry it took so long and thank you as always for the delicious request. I love writing bondage and it isn't requested a lot from me.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from Scaramouche's fingers as he worked. They looked so fluid, so expert, so suckable as he tied and looped the ropes around you. How he took his time, and how thorough he was being really went a long way to show that he took pride in his work.

Your legs were bent and spread, your ankles tied to your thighs in a variety of intricate knots. He took extra care tying your wrists to your ankles. The more complicated he got with tying and securing the knots, the harder he got.

You look so vulnerable, and delicate. Completely at his mercy. You were a vision of erotic submission. All bound up, your pussy wet and ready for him.

Scaramouche noticed you staring, and smirked. "Here," He said, offering you his index and middle finger, "Suck while I double check these knots," He pushed his fingers into your eager mouth, his cock pulsing from the feeling of your warm mouth suctioning wet around them as you sucked.

You let out happy, muffled moans as he pressed on your tongue, pumping them in and out of your mouth.

Something first, though. Scaramouche took his fingers out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting your tongue to his fingers. "You good?" You nodded. "The knots aren't too tight?" You shook your head. "Any pain?" You shook your head again, offering him a soft, reassuring smile that made his heart skip beats.

"Tch," He scoffed, narrowing his eyes. He grasped your jaw, squeezing it a little. "Now answer me verbally, slut. Do you want me?"

You shivered under the sudden, heavy wet of his dominance. Your cheeks flushed adoringly, his degradation making you wetter, and your clit throb and swell. "Yes, I want you. My body aches for your cock," Goosebumps rose in the wake of his fingers as they trailed down your stomach and between your legs.

He traced the shape of your pussy, rubbing the tip of his finger on your clit. His ministrations spurred the throbbing in your clit. You whined softly, struggling to move your hips up to grind your clit on his finger.

Scaramouche raised an eyebrow for you to continue. "S-so much I can hardly stand it," Your words were breaking into moans, pleasure starting to curl and jolt through your body.

He stroked his cock while he watched you struggle. He teased his finger at your hole, groaning softly feeling it clench around his finger tip. He laughed hearing your whine of protest when he withdrew his finger. He replaced it with his cock, rubbing it between your folds.

Scaramouche laughed softly, the head of his leaking cock rubbing on your clit. "What a little slut you are," He groaned huskily, "already so wet just from watching me tie you up."

His teasing was so cruel and he relished in it. There was a pitch of desperation in your moans. "What do you say, kitten?" He purred in delight, pushing the tip of his cock a little inside of you, further teasing you.

You gasped in pleasure as he reached up to pinch and play one of your nipples for extra stimulation. "P-Please! Please, I want you s-so bad," You stumbled over your words, your thighs shaking as he pushed his cock inside of you.

When his cock was half way inside of you, Scaramouche bottomed out with a harsh snap of his hips. His cock abruptly hitting your sweet spot tore a pornographic moan from your throat.

"Fuck," He moaned shakily, "You are this wet, but still so tight. What a fucking whore," The tight warmth of your walls clutching and clenching snug around his cock was a dizzying sensation. "I'll breed you full of my cum for your subservience."

Scaramouche's mouth watered in anticipation of filling your stuffed, messy cunt with his cum. Of seeing it seep around his cock while he bred you. There was a satisfying smack of his skin against yours, your toes curling as he angled his hips to fuck himself deeper into you.

Your mind was hazy as his cock stretched you apart. You grew more sensitive with every thrust, your eyes glazed over and hardly noticing the drool pooling from the corner of your mouth. You couldn't move, forced to feel every delicious pulse and throb of his cock. The only thing you could do was moan, unable to focus on anything but him and how good his cock felt fucking into you.

He put a hand on the back of your head, pulling on your hair. "Look at how cute you look. Dumb and drooling, impaled on my cock," He captured your lips in a messy, deep kiss.

His tongue wrestled yours into quick submission, pressing your mouth against his as he deepened the kiss. Tearing his mouth off of yours, his own moans mingled uncontrolled with yours.

At first you didn't hear yourself whimpering for him to cum inside. Scaramouche's laugh was soft and drunk sounding. He mocked your noises for a few moments. "You sound so cute when you are about to cum," He reached down to rub your clit, sending your body to tremble and quiver.

The warm knot collecting in your core came undone, his name sounding from you in a pleasured scream as your orgasm washed over you. Scaramouche leaned down to sink his teeth into your neck, supporting you against him as he chased his climax.

Cum ribboned inside of you, his body shaking above you. His mouth sucking and biting the fold of skin in his mouth did little to conceal his long, satisfied moan as he emptied his cock inside of you.

Pulling out, Scaramouche's eyes drank in the site of his cum dripping onto your cunt. He scooped some up on his finger, fingering his cum back inside of you before putting it in your mouth. "Clean it before I stuff you full again."

[idyllcy]

lights, baby, action! - leon kennedy x reader ( oata bonus inspired by chesue)

Leon’s supposedly retired.

Supposedly.

He’s retired at this point, busy playing dress up with your pretty daughter, stubble grown out and though his body is still fit from working out, he’s nowhere near as nice as his prime — so he says. You find that he looks just as good as before, and considering that CK has just contacted him for an independent shoot, they must think the same.

“Daddy’s going to a shoot.” You bring your daughter in the car, Leon patting her back gently as she stares out the window. 

“Guns?”

“Cameras.”

“What for? I thought daddy said he’s done.”

“This one’s for independent work.” Leon hums. “Daddy’s going to be shirtless.”

Your daughter fakes a gag, opting to stare back out the window in the back of the car, huffing.

“As long as no one’s touching him outside of mommy and me.”

Leon’s touched. A LOT. He’s told to change, boxers changed out to the CK one, white shirt pulled over his chest as he gets his makeup done, smiling at you when he catches you staring, straightening back up as the makeup artist scolds him. Same old, same old. It makes you laugh, your daughter sticking her tongue out in your arms, shuddering at his display of affection for you.

“Why does daddy have abs?”

“He works out.” You hum. 

“Is daddy doing an underwear shoot?”

“Yeah.” You laugh when Leon meets eyes with you, shaking his head as everyone’s done fussing over him. He steps over, ruffling your daughter’s hair as he hum.

“Does daddy look good?”

“Daddy looks naked.” 

“Leona, that’s not nice to say to daddy.” Leon pouts. “You look just like daddy, you know.” 

“Yeah, except mommy’s prettier.” She huffs. “Mommy’s just prettier.”

“That’s only because daddy loves me.” You push her hair to the side, kissing her forehead as he hears his name. “Wives loved by their husbands always look better.”

“Well, you must love daddy too since he’s still a model.” Leona stares at Leon’s white shirt. “Are you taking it off?”

“They might make me.” 

“You should.” Your lip quirks up teasingly, laughing when Leon leans over Leona to kiss you. 

“Ewwwww”

“Kennedy! You’re up next.” One of the interns stop by, Leon reaching for your hand as he takes the two of you to the room, white visible all over as your daughter tilts her head.

“Kennedy?”

“They call daddy by his last name.” You hum. “Ready to see daddy model?”

Leona gets out of your arms to stand, on the side as she watches Leona pose, photographer calling for Leon to change poses, shirt pulled up as Leona tilts her head curiously. She hasn’t seen Leon model ever, now that you think about it. Leon retired to raise her at home with you. It’s incredible what budgeting a supermodel’s salary could do in the long run. 

Well, not that brands had ever stopped reaching out.

What could you do? Your husband was just too hot.

Leon reaches for his shirt at the end, pulling it off with a huff as the photographer takes one last shot.

“I think that’s the one.” You tell Leona, letting go of her hand as she runs over to hug Leon.

“There’s my girl.” He lifts her into his arms, humming as she opens her mouth.

“Leo—“

“Daddy looked really cool. Like. Super cool. I didn’t know daddy used to do that. Is that what modeling is? I thought it was just boring walking on runways.” She huffs. “Can I do that too? Am I allowed to? Am I too young?”

“It’s a risk, baby.” You hum. “Being known to the world is a risk.”

“Is that a no?”

“We can start with few.” Leon nods. “Only with mommy or daddy.”

“Mommy modeled?”

“Modeling is how I met mommy.” He hums. “Showed up looking so pretty our first shoot together.”

“Oh.” Leona pushes her hands over Leon’s mouth, huffing. “I don’t wanna hear it again.”

“You don’t need to.” You press a kiss to her cheek. “Come on. Let’s head back.”

“We’re done?”

“Yes. Let’s get home. What do you want for dinner?”

“I want mommy to make me some eggs.”

[fanficlolsblog]

TASTE

back to my main masterlist

pairing: fem!reader x sabrina carpenter

summary: your favourite artist, sabrina carpenter asks you to be in her new music video, ‘taste’, which of course you couldn’t refuse…

warnings: none.

a/n: i posted this on wattpad to, i would appreciate it if you would go check it out :) loversxoxoxo.

It was an ordinary Wednesday when an email arrived that made my heart race with excitement. Sabrina Carpenter, one of my favorite artists, was reaching out to me. She wanted me to be in her new music video for ‘Taste.’ I could hardly believe it—I’d been a fan for years, and now I was being given a chance to work with her. I agreed without hesitation.

The day of the shoot arrived, and I was a bundle of nerves and excitement. Sabrina’s team met me at a chic studio, where the atmosphere was buzzing with creative energy. When Sabrina walked in, she looked even more stunning in person. Her smile was bright, and her energy was infectious.

“Hey there!” Sabrina greeted me warmly. “You must be the one I’ve been hearing so much about from my team! It’s lovely to meet you dear.” She takes out her hand for me to shake.

I tried to keep my composure but felt my cheeks flush. “Hi I’m Y/N. I’m so excited to be here. Thank you for inviting me.” I grab her hand, her hands are so soft.

Sabrina’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she shines her beautiful smile. “Of course! I have a feeling we’re going to make a great team.” She says as she shakes my hand and winks at me. My cheeks probably look so read right now… “Let’s go over the concept, shall we?”

We went through the details, and that’s when I learned about the kiss… it was part of a scene in the video where Sabrina and I were supposed to share a moment of connection. My stomach did a little flip at the news. The idea of kissing Sabrina Carpenter was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

As the scene approached, Sabrina came up to me with a playful glint in her eyes. “Ready for our big scene?” she asked, her voice low and teasing.

I nodded, trying to stay calm. “Um yeah, I think so.”

Sabrina stepped closer, her proximity sending butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “Don’t worry,” she said softly. “It’s just a kiss. Just trust me, okay?”

When the cameras started rolling, Sabrina and I were caught up in the intensity of the moment. We shared a tender, lingering kiss that felt both surreal and exhilarating. I grab ahold of her face pulling her closer. As we pulled away, I caught a glimpse of Sabrina’s warm smile and the way her eyes sparkled with genuine affection. “Wow…”

Sabrina giggles a bit as she lets go of my waist. Shit did i just say that out loud? “Was I that good darling?” I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out as Sabrina walks away from me to her team.

Once filming wrapped, Sabrina walked over to me, her demeanor relaxed and flirtatious. “You were amazing today. I really enjoyed working with you.”

I grinned, feeling a mix of elation and disbelief. “Thanks, Sabrina. It was incredible to be a part of this. It felt surreal,” I say as i slightly laugh. Sabrina grins at me, I swear i see her eyes glimmer again.

She leaned in slightly closer to my face, her voice playful. “You know, we should hang out sometime. I’d love to get to know you better outside of all this.”

My heart skipped a beat. “That would be… great.”

Sabrina reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. “How about you give me your number? I’ll text you so we can set something up.”

I quickly gave her my number, biting my bottom lip slightly trying to hide my excitement. “Here you go.”

Sabrina took the number with a smile. “Perfect. I’ll be in touch soon. It was lovely to meet you, Y/N.” She pulls me into a hug.

“You too,” I pull away as she starts to walk away. She turns around to give one last look back and glimmers her pearly white teeth one last time. I smile back to her as she fully turns around to continue walking.

As she walked away, I was left grinning from ear to ear. The day had been a whirlwind of emotions, from the thrill of the kiss to the unexpected invitation to hang out. I couldn’t wait to see what would come next.

[baby-yongbok]

Ex

Boyfriend!Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

⇝ Genre: Angst then Smut then angst again. Dirty Drama.

⇝ Summary: We all have that one toxic person that we can’t let go of.

⇝ Warnings: Cheating , Arguing/Yelling, Dry Humping, Crying, Hyunjin is toxic - the manipulative type. (I think that's all, let me know if I missed anything!)

⇝ Word Count: 2.9k

⇝ A/N: I'm sorry in advance. I live for the drama, I'm so so sorry. My depresso has been prompting me to write angst and this is what I came up with today. It might be intense? I don't know honestly. All I know is that writing angst makes me happy lol + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ I hope that you enjoy! Please don't hate me 💕

✧ Part II ✧ Masterlist ✧

It started with him forgetting coffee dates. The small chunks of time that the two of you carved out of your day to spend with each other quickly turned into bottled Starbucks drinks and ignored texts while you made your way to work. He said that it was because of his schedule and Hyunjin would never lie to you. 

Next were your nightly video calls. The two hours that you’d spend talking about your days and making future plans morphed into double and triple texting him until he replies with a lackluster night time send off and a declaration of love that you have no choice but to imagine leaving his lips. You haven’t heard from him in forever but it’s okay, you can fix this. 

You’re an artist, a digital artist for a living but a painter as a hobby. This trait is one of the many things that you and Hyunjin bonded over so when you proposed that the two of you do Paint and Sip dates on Friday nights he was all in. Everything was fine for a couple of weeks, you’d pick the picture and you’d both get to painting while you listen to your shared Spotify playlist. You’d talk and laugh while sipping whatever wine he brought with him, everything was finally feeling normal again but there was one thing that kept bothering you. 

His phone.

 It kept blowing up, vibrating, dinging and lighting up throughout the night. You’ve always understood that Hyunjin is a busy guy and his friends may need to reach him at odd hours of the night but there was something more to what you saw. He would ignore a message or two from Jeongin or even decline Chan’s calls from time to time but whenever his phone lit up with that damned flower icon he’d drop his brush like his life depended on it. 

You figured that as long as he’s here with you everything is fine. You never liked to micro manage and you're not the jealous type so snooping around wasn’t something that you were very into, until he canceled on you. Again. This is the third week that he’s said that something has come up and that he’ll be over at your place late. When you read his text you were already staring at his laptop wondering if it was really necessary to snoop through his cloud and read his texts. Surely he had a reasonable explanation for this right? Hyunjin would never lie to you. Right? You wanted to be right so badly and when you opened the computer, put in his password and clicked on the cloud you found out that you couldn’t be more wrong.

“What are you still doing up?” Hyunjin asked as he tiptoed into your bedroom. You were sitting at your desk with your phone in your hand, staring at your screen.

“How was your night?” You ask as you swipe on your phone, your eyes never leave the screen but Hyunjin doesn’t seem to notice.

“It was fine, got a lot done.” He turns towards your closet door but stops when he processes the mess around him. “Are these my clothes?”

“Yeah, you’re going to pack all of that along with whatever else you have around here and you’re going to leave.” He stares at you with pinched brows and then he takes in his scattered belongings again.

“What?” 

“You’re going to pack your shit.” You stand from your chair, glaring at him with narrow eyes. “And you’re going to go stay with her.”

You can practically hear him choke on his inhale once your words hit his ear. “Who are you talking about?”

“I can always make time for you just give me the date and the place.” You read from the screenshots illuminating your screen as you stalk towards him. “I hate when you ignore me, you know how much your attention means to me.”

“Stop it.” He turns to face you completely, watching you with worried eyes glazed with guilt.

“It doesn’t matter who I’m seeing, you know that you come first.” You project your voice so that it echoes off of every surface, he doesn’t get to avoid this. “Call me, I need to hear my baby.”

“How did you find those, you -” He sighs as you cut him off, practically yelling the next message.

“You left too many hickies to cover this time, I’ll return the favor on Friday.” 

“Enough of that, enough.” His tone tries to match yours but it fails, falling off into a pitiful whisper at the end. “You went through my computer?” 

He looks over at you with a cocktail of disbelief and disgust smeared over his features but you’re more than sure that the look on your face has got him beat. “ You’re fucking your ex.”

“It’s not like that, it's -” You cut him off, taking a wide step towards him.

“It’s not like that? You’re begging her for her time. You’re texting her every minute of every day. You’re fucking her and then coming here and fucking me, Hyunjin.”

“I know, okay I get that you’re mad, I’m sorry I just can’t let her go yet. It’s like there’s a piece of me that only she has possession of and no matter how much I try to ignore it I just can’t.” He runs his hands through his hair, his eyes taking in the way that your gaze cuts into him. 

“It’s been a year. I’ve been with you for an entire year. When did you have time to start this? How long have you been fucking her?” He shakes his head, turning towards the bedroom door to escape the situation in front of him. You follow hot on his trail, repeating your question. “How long?” You ask over and over until he finally snaps, yelling his answer in the middle of the living room.

“A couple of months, I don’t know five or six? Maybe even seven I don’t fucking know.” You scoff as rage floods through your veins and you pick up the nearest object and chuck it at him with all of the force you can muster. He dodges it easily but he doesn’t have as much luck with the remote that follows the path of the last item. “ Yara, stop it.”

The hiss in his voice turns into a loud gasp once he realizes his mistake. “Excuse me?” He called you by her name. His ex's name. 

“Fuck, I- I didn’t mean to call you that, angel, I swear it’s because we’re talking about her. That’s all. You’re not her, you’re so much better I swear. Let’s just - just talk about this okay?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I want you out of my house, now. I’m done, Hyunjin. I’ve been begging for your attention for months and you’re off giving it to someone who’s using you for sex and attention. I did so much, I’ve done everything, but clearly you love fucking so much that you fucked me over. Are you proud of that shit? Are you happy?” He takes a couple of slow steps over to you as you stand there, chest heaving and heart heavy with the sadness that has allowed your burning anger to be the star of the show until now. Maybe if he shows you that he wants you, maybe if he says that you two can fix this you’ll consider believing him.

We all have that one toxic person that we can’t let go of. He’s not at fault for being bound to her so tightly, even if he broke your heart in the process. 

“Listen, angel, I love you so much. I want to be with you, I really do, no one else has fought for me and my time like you have. I don’t want to lose that, please let’s just talk about this. I’ll do anything for you, I swear.” Your glare softens, call it wishful thinking or maybe you’re blinded by the desperate burn of love in your chest but you believe him. You believe him just enough to let him splay his long fingers over the curve of your hip and pull you closer to him.

“Why do you need me if you have her?” You stare at the middle of his chest, watching it rise and fall.

“Because you love me in a way that she never could and never will.” He leans down, pressing a kiss to your temple as he brings his other hand to your waist. “She doesn’t see me like you do.”

He kisses over the shell of your ear, making his way down your neck. Your body is pressed against his as his hand kneads at the swell of your ass and he runs his tongue over the sensitive skin of your neck. You exhale heavily, bringing your hands up to rest on his biceps. You want to push him away, you want to get to the bottom of this and talk to him, so why are you pulling him closer? Why are you allowing small moans to leave your lips as he hypnotizes you into forgetting what he’s been doing to you.

“Hyunjin, stop it.” Your voice falters on the last word, giving way to the whimper fighting to escape your throat. 

“Push me away.” He whispers into your ear, his soft lips brushing against the shell of it and setting your nerves on fire. “If you mean it then push me away.” 

He stops everything, he doesn’t kiss you or squeeze you, you can hear the soft sound of his breathing and feel the gentle beating of his heart as his chest is pressed against your own. You can’t do this, you shouldn’t do this, your brain is screaming at you. You know better than to fall for this, push him away, now. Do it. 

“Don’t stop.” Your eyes flutter shut when he squeezes your ass again, pressing your hips into his so that the bulge in his pants pokes your belly button as it twitches in anticipation. 

“Say it again.” He plants a whisper of a kiss over your temple. “Say it again, angel, say my name.”

“Don’t stop, Hyunjin, please.” His kisses get sloppier as he gets closer to your lips, he plants a sloppy kiss to the corner of your mouth before catching your lips with his plump ones. You sigh into him, your hands fisting his shirt as your tongue tangles with his. He moans into your mouth, his hands tracing your hips as he takes some steps back, leading you both to the couch. 

“Tell me that you forgive me, baby.” He sits once the frame of the couch hits the back of his legs, dragging you down with him so that you're straddling his hips. His bulge pressed firmly into your dripping heat and you can’t help but to grind against him. Before you can settle into a steady rhythm Hyunjin grips your hips, holding you still against him. “Tell me.”

“I forgive you.” You mumble, the words sound just fine when they roll off of your tongue. They taste sweet as you lick your lips, staring into your lover's eyes defeatedly. You’re too deep into the brain fog, too desperate to feel the love that you’ve been chasing for months. You’d say anything just to feel Hyunjin touch you. You’d do anything to keep him here. 

“I knew you would.” He smiles up at you, starting to guide your hips against him. You throw your head back, your face contorting into a mask of pleasure. Hyunjin's fingers trace your jawline, sending chills down your spine. You close your eyes, allowing him access to any part of you he desires. “You need me too. Just like I need you, don’t you?”

You nod your head, picking up the rhythm of your hips as he starts to roll into you, matching your pace flawlessly. “I do, oh my god, I missed you.” You babble into the hot air as your hands find purchase on his shoulders. You can feel the night scarf covering your hair slip over the crown of your head and fall to the floor, your unruly hair frames your face and Hyunjin can’t help but to moan at the sight. 

“I missed my pretty baby too.” He grunts, eyebrows pinching together as he watches where your clothed cores press into each other. “Oh, fuck, I missed you so much.”

His hands are all over you as you move against him like he’s trying to memorize the pattern of your skin. He’s reintroducing himself with every pulse point that he can reach, lighting every inch of your skin aflame with desire. “Tell me your mine. Tell me you love me, please, please say it.”

“I’m all yours, angel. All fucking yours.” His hips buck up into you as your movements become more sloppy, your climax is dangling right in front of your face. It’s burning in the pit of your stomach, a strangled moan drags from your lips as you get closer to it.

“Again p-please, please, so close ‘s so close Jinnie, again.” Your nails dig into his shoulder, whimpers following your fucked out sentence as your eyes watch Hyunjin. You watch how he bites the tip of his tongue as he gets lost in this bubble of pleasure with you. Your own perfect shield of hot desire. 

“I love you.” He moans, throwing his head back against the couch, his grip on your hip tightens. The strength of his grasp is brushing yet delicious. “I’m yours. I’m all -” 

The melodic sound of Hyunjin’s phone ringing cut him off before he could finish his sentence. His head snaps up as his eyes widen and he stops moving against you. “Get off.”

You whimper, confused eyes staring down at him through your fucked out fog. “Angel, move.” He pushes you to the side much rougher than he intended and you watch him as he stands quickly, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and swiping the green button immediately. 

“Hey.” He clears his throat trying his best to not sound like he was seconds away from coming in his pants. “Yeah I can do that, just give me like twenty minutes, okay?” 

You listen, coming out of your haze just enough to process the situation. That ringtone sounded familiar, it’s the one that he always answers… It's her.

“Hyunjin.” You reach forward, grabbing his wrist but he pulls away, glancing back at you for just a second before turning his attention back to the phone call. 

“Nothing, that’s no one, I’m on my way.” You scoff, watching as he ends the call and starts to frantically fix his clothes. “I have to go something um - something came up.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Hyunjin ignores you, making his way over to your bedroom with you following close behind, a mirror image of what happened minutes ago. “You’re going to her? 

“She said that she needs me and I don’t -” 

“You just told me that you were mine. You just said that, Hyunjin.” You grab his wrist, prompting him to turn to you. He stares down at you with furrowed brows and glassy eyes like he’s in a fog, like he’s been hypnotized to follow a specific instruction. 

“And you said that you forgive me.” He reaches up to cup your cheek and your body melts into his touch before you can even fully process it. “I’ll be back tomorrow, angel. I’ll be yours tomorrow.”

His touch is gone just as fast as it came, leaving you with an empty ache in your chest as you watch him grab his bag and jacket. You stay rooted in place, feeling like your heart has been ripped out of your chest. “Hyunjin.” 

There’s a tremble in your voice as you say his name but he doesn’t seem to mind, it’s like he didn’t even hear you. “I love you.” He leans in to kiss your temple but misses completely, planting a half hearted peck against your hair as he rushes towards the door. You watch as he leaves, quiet and stunned. There are a million thoughts going through your head but you still feel unable to process what had just happened. The sound of the front door closing is what draws you out of your thoughts. 

The silence surrounding you allows room for the reality of the situation to echo around you, bouncing off of the walls and drowning you in this painfully unfamiliar feeling in your chest. You take a sharp inhale as tears start to prick at the back of your eyes. What was supposed to be a stable step towards your bed leaves sinking against its frame. You find yourself grasping one of Hyunjin’s shirts on the floor beneath you, your eyes trail from that garment to the next frantically. He’s everywhere. You can smell him, the soft cotton of the shirt makes you feel like you can feel the beating of his heart beneath it. Tears blur your vision as you sob into the fabric, clutching onto it like it’s all that you have left of him. Maybe it is. You gasp, a choked sob struggling past your lips as the true weight of the moment finally settles on your shoulders.

We all have that one toxic person that we can’t let go of.

[devilfruitwriter]

falls in love easily {Taz Skylar}

Summary: Life comes at you fast, and often in uncertain ways, at least that's what you find yourself thinking when it's almost five in the morning and you're waiting for the cast of the upcoming Live Action One Piece Netflix show in their makeup trailer, and you realise you might have finally found your people. (And the way you try not to think about how you might genuinely be falling for the actor who you've been joking about being in love with since day one.)

Need to Know: They/Them Reader. Makeup Artist!Reader. Fluff through vignettes. No use of Y/N.

A/N: 3424 words. Unedited and probably a mess but I love him your honor. Now idk if it's good, but I hope you enjoy it. There's mentions of drinking. Let me know what you think, or if you have any prompts for Taz or any of the rest of the cast! <3

Taglist is always open, please comment or message me to be added! xx

Taz has started bringing you coffee, and damn if you don't love him for it.

"Don't let it go to your head; they love everyone," Emily rolls her eyes but her expression is fond. You stick your tongue out at her, still cradling your steaming take away cup with both your hands, looking between them in the makeup trailer they share with you and Emily's makeup artist.

"Yeah but me the most," Taz sits a little higher in his chair, his smug little smile is levelled at his co-star, though you see his gaze flick to you and the grin you're trying to hide behind the rim of your cup, "that's the point of the coffee, isn't it?"

"You have a few other redeeming qualities," you chime in, struggling not to laugh at the whole situation, especially as Taz makes a show of practically preening at your decidedly backhanded praise.

"Told ya," he's outright beaming now, "loves me the most, as they should."

"As I should?" You hear the disbelief in your own voice rise as you lower your cup, crossing your free hand over your chest.

"Obviously," Taz, however, does not seem phased by your indignance, looking at you with wide, bright eyes, like it's the most simple thing in the world, "you're my makeup artist, if you loved one of them more I'd consider that a great betrayal of our bond."

Emily can no longer contain her laughter.

You take a moment to ponder and sip the coffee he'd brought you, mulling over his words.

"I've known Emily longer," you pointed out, though Taz shook his head, managing to keep his composure and keep up with the bit.

"And I've worked with other makeup artists in the past; what matters is the here and now," he says with an almost believable sincerity, "and here and now, I love you the most, and I buy you coffee, and I'm gonna be real sad if you don't say it back." Endeared by his antics, the words tumble from you -

"Of course I love you the mostest -"

"- the mostest! -" he echoes under his breath with a pleased kind of triumph.

"- the mostest? -" Emily, however, has her whole face scrunched up, muttering amid her laughter like she can't quite believe she'd heard you say that.

"Of course I love Taz the mostest -" you doubled down, now outright grinning, "not that it should have to be stated; this is a well established love affair we've got going on here, was that not clear?" Gesturing between yourself and Taz, who's once again looking particularly pleased with the bit, the two of you share an amused look before both turning to Emily in the makeup chair beside you both. She gives you both a thin, amused smile, her laughter having died down.

"Oh it's clear," she smirks at him, "considering that even Kiki won't swap trailers with me -" though there's no real malice behind it.

"You have not asked Kiki to swap with you," Taz rolled his eyes good-naturedly, "you love us."

"And we love you," you assured her, playing up the saccharine quality of your voice once more.

"But not as much as you love each other," she pointed out.

"Obviously," Taz nodded, right as you agreed;

"That goes without saying."

(Later, when you ask him how he takes his coffee, he cracks an eye open where he's relaxing as you're laying his wig for the day, slight smile on his lips, telling you that's not how this works.

Music fills the little trailer in the in-between moments, loud enough that Emily and her own makeup artist can't hear the specifics of your conversation. You give pause, waiting for the spirit gum to dry, echoing his words back to him as a question, amused at his apparent courteousness. He nods, now watching you, as if confused by your question.

"How am I meant to let you know I love you otherwise?" You snickered, playing off the earlier joke. It did the trick, however, as he huffed a quiet laugh of his own. Still, he tells you how he takes his coffee, and you, triumphant, turn to the counter for your next product.

"Or you could just say," he adds after a moment, and you can't help but freeze. You don't even need to be looking at him to hear him grinning - this moment is doing strange things to the affectionate feeling in your chest, but you do your best to ignore it. Turning back, his eyes are closed again, settled back in his seat, waiting as patient as ever.

"That's too easy," you hope he can tell you're smiling too.)

----

"I'm so sorry, love," Taz is leaning against the side of your trailer, cigarette in one hand, and blue, plastic lighter in the other, "my lighter's dead, you don't happen to have one?"

After being called in even earlier than usual to assist with Jeff's Buggy makeup for the shoot today, it takes you a moment to catch up. It takes you a moment, and a yawn, but you reach into one of the side pockets of your backpack.

"Yeah, gimme a sec," you mumble through your yawn.

"Fuckin' love you," Taz mutters gratefully, shoving his own, empty lighter into his back pocket, "I know it's a filthy habit but -"

"I don't judge," you shrug, finally handing over the lighter that had been buried in the bottom of the pocket. Instead of heading in, however, you joined him, leaning against the trailer, tipping your head back to look at the lilac sky as it began to turn gold.

The quiet spark, pop, sizzle of the cigarette isn't an unfamiliar sound given the industry you work in. Taz thanks you quietly as he hands back the lighter, and you give a tired smile in return; you had an energy drink and probably a coffee waiting in your trailer but you would rather take these few moments of peace where you could get them.

"I thought you vaped," you mused after a moment. Taz makes a noncommittal noise as he breathes out a lungful of smoke.

"Left it in the accommodation," he admitted. He offers the cigarette, but you shake your head, "probably smart, like its a bad habit, yeah, but also I don't exactly know where this came from, I found it in the bottom of my bag, it's..." he gives a thin, self deprecating smile, "questionable."

"Sounds like a you-problem, my guy," you tell him, shifting over to lean against his shoulder, closing your eyes for the moment. You hear him laugh and agree, and a comfortable silence stretches out between you.

"It definitely is," he agrees after a moment, "can I ask why you carry a lighter with you if you don't smoke? Not that I'm not grateful -"

"That's why."

"What?"

"In case someone needs a lighter."

"That's sweet, that's very lovely."

"I do try," you hum with a slight smile. After a moment, he wraps an arm around your shoulders, continuing to blow smoke into the wind, away from you.

"You doing alright, love?"

"Always," you sigh, leaning into him in the moment, "I'll be alright, I just need to get some caffeine into me."

"Coffee's waiting for you inside," he told you warmly, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

"Yeah," you mumbled, before admitting, "I like hanging out with you though."

You can't bring yourself to open your eyes and gauge his reaction, but he doesn't let you go.

(He keeps borrowing your lighter. Sometimes it's those early mornings, sometimes it's on set, during the few scenes where Sanji's smoking; before anyone else he'll come to you. You start carrying your lighter in your pocket just in case.

"So you've just given up on having a lighter of your own?" You teased, lighting the herbal cigarette they were using for filming.

"Why would I need one? I've got you," he smirks back, and damn he's just as charming in character as he is out of it. "Thanks, love," he wraps you up in a one-armed hug, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before the cast and crew is called to stand by for the shot.

Taz is the kind of affectionate you could really see yourself getting used to, and he's definitely taken notice.)

----

Between the wig, the makeup, and covering up his tattoos, Taz's spends just over an hour in your makeup chair, depending on how much of Sanji will be seen on any given day.

"Scenes like today might be my favourite," You're working diligently away, already a half hour into your routine and mind on autopilot as you take Taz's hand to keep it still while you added product to your brush. You hadn't even realised you'd said that out loud until he responded.

"Scenes like today?" His voice is gentle but amused; you can hear him smiling but can't bring yourself to meet his gaze, suddenly feeling flustered that you'd voiced that thought at all. "Come on, love, you can't just say that, what d' you mean by that?" And it takes you a moment of deliberation to decide if you want to answer honestly, applying concealer to his tattoos as you feel yourself grow flustered.

"I like all your scenes," you mutter dismissively, "I feel lucky that I get to see so much of the show being filmed." Which isn't a lie, you're on standby on set to touch up makeup throughout the days, and you love the production and what you've seen of the show thus far... but it's also not the whole truth, and you know Taz can tell.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, and when you look up finally, you can see the way he's smiling, but he's thankfully not looking at you. For a moment, you're glad Emily's not filming until later in the day, her call time not for several hours, so it's just you and Taz, and his playlist to fill the silence. But you make the call to swallow your embarrassment and voice the compliment that had been idling in your mind.

"I like watching you cook on set the most," you say without a hint of hesitation, and he looks to you quickly, almost like he's surprised by your honesty, but you weren't finished, "I know you've really immersed yourself in the role and put in a lot of effort and training; it really shows, especially when you fight and when you cook." There's something in the way he's looking at you that starts to overwhelm you, and you have to break the moment, break eye contact, go back to covering his tattoos or your not sure what you might do. Even your tone shifts, a little flustered, a little awkward, a little jarring after how sure you'd just been, "I, you know, I appreciate you and stuff, but you knew that."

There was a warmth to the silence that followed. When you finally sat back to grab the colour correction pallet, you could see Taz still watching you with genuine affection in his gaze.

"You're very kind," he says softly.

"Nah, it's just true," you huffed an awkward laugh.

"Don't hit me with that 'nah, it's just true' shit," he snorted, shaking his head, "you're being very kind and I appreciate that," he told you with firm honesty, matching the tone you'd addressed him with just moments ago, "lemme cook you dinner some time, 'cos I have been practicing," he agrees with pride, "and I'd take any excuse to show off, 'specially to you."

"Thought we established that I already love you, you don't have to prove anything to me," you ducked your head as you loaded your brush with product, unable to keep the grin from your face.

"Yeah, but this love-bit is a two way street."

"Okay," you said after a pause, finally meeting his gaze once more, and your smile grows wider.

"Okay?" Matching your excited energy, Taz grins widely at you, and you nod.

"Yeah, dinner, eventually," you laughed, "whenever we both are up for it. I'd really like that."

Something is... different now. Something has changed. Taz can't help but mention, as you're securing his wig, that it's going to be hard for him to think of anything but your kind words during filming today. Sheepishly you apologise, but he waves you off quickly - nothing to apologise for, he assured you.

But something is different.

(The silly, little fantasies you've been having on occasion, or more accurately, have been trying to ignore on occasion, have only gotten worse.

And more domestic.

They leave you feeling that kind of giddy-sick and unprofessional, the kind of daydreams that remind you at two in the morning that you should be sleeping and really shouldn't have a crush on your coworker.

Except you can't stop picturing small moments, like a sunlit, mid-morning, music playing on your laptop, the two of you moving around each other to make breakfast together on your day off. Or sharing quiet conversations and laughter while making dinner and -

When you both finally have a night off, he mentions how he's invited some of the other cast members to join you both. You've never been so relieved and disappointed all at once.)

----

Lines and jokes get messy and blurry; late nights on set, Taz almost falling asleep in your makeup chair as you're removing his wig for the day, nights out that both he and Emily invite you to, and a burgeoning friendship with the rest of the cast, and quiet moments spent in the back of Ubers lamenting how early you all have to get up the next day.

Usually you're the first one to bail, considering you're usually getting calling in even earlier than the cast, but some of the more responsible ones, or the other members of crew who have been roped into these various shenanigans, will split the Uber bill with you. The others all seem to understand why you have to leave early, but still, they're sad to see you leave.

What you tell absolutely none of them is that your self restraint is wearing incredibly thin when it comes to Taz already, and you know you're so close to doing something you can't take back.

Because he gets somehow more tactile when you're all out together; his arm around you, kisses your temple, your cheek, elated to see you whenever you meet up again after any amount of time. The way he laughs, the way he just talks to you, making you feel like you're the most important person in the world in the moment he gives you his focus and attention, and your brain gets all giddy and foggy when he calls you 'my love'.

So you need to leave, before you do too much, or say too much... well, too much more.

("My love -" and there it is again, his voice above the music, cutting through the crowd where he's spotted you.

"Yes, my darling Taz," you greet him with a sunny smile and open arms as an invitation to join you. Beside you in the booth, Emily and Inaki are playing slaps, and somehow neither are doing well, but thankfully they're both enjoying themselves.

Taz slides seamlessly into the booth beside you, pressed up to your side. Immediately his focus is stolen by his castmates' various yells and shrieks and slaps, and he half drapes himself across you and the table in front of you to get closer to their game. You don't even really mind, simply enjoying the moment, his proximity, and trying to figure out how long before you should head home. These three have the day off tomorrow, but you've been called in to assist with the hair and makeup for Mihawk.

"You're thinking very hard," Taz muses, as if remembering on whom he was leaning. Giving him a nudge, you grin.

"Just got work tomorrow unfortunately -"

Emily pats you sympathetically on the shoulder, Inaki immediately shouts that she's cheating, his eyes bright and wide. You push Taz back so he's no longer half-leaning over you to instead offer your shoulder to Inaki; he gives a decisive pat and declares he and Emily even, while you lament that you should probably hit the hay.

Emily and Inaki put their game on hold to say goodbye, Emily hugging you tightly and telling you to message when you got back to your accommodation, before they returned their focus to each other, and trying to pick a new game. Taz slides from the booth, giving you room to get out, and walks with you to the door.

"Surely you're not leaving," you grinned, but he's already shaking his head, throwing an arm around your shoulders as you get out onto the street.

"Making sure you make it to your taxi, or Uber, or whatever, okay."

"My hero," you teased, but still pulled out your phone to order your ride back to the hotel. Taz is humming something to himself that you can't quite pick all the while, "should be here in three minutes," you say softly, turning your attention back to him for the moment. The sight of his affectionate, smiling face has something softening in your heart - "you don't need to stay out here, I'll be fine, the bouncer's -"

"I work hard to my top ranking with you," Taz tried to muster up as much seriousness as he could, but it only served to endear you further, "no way I'm letting something happen in these three minutes and you end up liking some fuckin' bouncer more than me."

What you want to say is 'that will never happen'.

What you actually do is kiss him.)

----

It's not nothing.

This thing between you both is something, but you're not quite sure what. Because at first neither of you talk about what happens on those nights out, or how it keeps happening, but it never feels strange when you see each other at work. Still you tease each other endlessly, and there's something about the way he tries not to laugh when you're doing some kind of nonsense bit while doing his makeup, and how you'd fallen asleep against each other when Inaki invited people over to hang out and watch movies together.

Somehow after the wrap party, you, the main cast, and a few other members of the crew all ended up back at your accommodation. Most had left in the wee hours of the morning, but Inaki's passed out on your sofa, and a few of the other makeup artists had decided to squeeze into your bed like sardines, while you and Taz haven't moved from the wicker armchair on your balcony for hours.

The sunrise paints him golden in this moment you never want to end.

He's halfway through telling a story that has you practically wheezing, and you want to tell him that you'll miss him, miss these moments, miss whatever it is the two of you are, that you might actually love him, but instead what comes out is -

"You bastard, you know you've ruined me for other actors," you're beaming from ear to ear, watching the sun rise, and you hear him practically giggling as he leans against you.

"My grand plan has succeeded then."

"Grand plan?"

"Grand plan," he confirmed with a slight nod, "since I met you and you pointed at me," he points out to the horizon for emphasis, "and you said I was going to do great things with this role, even though you'd barely even met me; I've been gone for you ever since," he admitted with a snort of laughter, as if embarrassed by the recollection.

"You what?" You shifted back, eyes wide with surprise, only to be met with Taz's confused smile, like obviously.

"You've been nothing but a support this entire time, how is this a surprise?" He chuckled; seeing how obviously flustered you were becoming, his smile softened to something endeared, "you make yourself very easy to love, you know that, right?"

So much is running through your head at once, a million things you'd like to say, questions you have, what-ifs you could dwell on, but you don't.

"Oh thank god," you breathe, wrapping your arms around him, "I love you too," you're beaming until you're kissing him, this moment golden and absolutely perfect.

----

Taglist: @annssell @deadsnothere @hobbitsnapes @notdaninotfound @uncertainturquoise

[drvirgus]

hi; can i request a haerin one shot where you and the members of newjeans are task to babysit (like in the return of the superman where artists would appear to spend some time with the kids) and one of the kids have hearing disabilities and y/n can sign language and communicate with the kid through sign language and all of the members are impressed but haerin just fall in love with you more as she see you communicate with the kid to the point the kid were attach to you🥹 just hearin be like “thats my girl” - sorry if its too long hehe

I‘m so sorry that it took so long🥲 my laptop is broken but I wrote this fast chapter at work 🤔 hopefully you like it 🤞🏼

The Babysitters

Idol! Haerin X Idol! Reader

wc: 2k

a/n: the colored sentences are in sign language

————————————————————————————

With a sigh, I sat in the car, Haerin's hand in mine as I simply looked out the window. Danielle was the first to start laughing when she heard my sigh. "Oh, come on. I really don't understand how you can't like kids," Danielle said as she turned her head towards me. My attention now on Danielle, I replied somewhat annoyed, "Kids are just like drunken adults. Always have to watch out for them."

I immediately felt the pressure of my girlfriend's hand. Her head lifted from my shoulder to look at me better. "I always have to watch out for you when you're drunk," she said, which made Hanni and Minji laugh. I blush a little as I simply put my index finger to my lips and said, "Shh," making Haerin roll her eyes with a smile.

"Besides, we have a baby," I said, which made Hanni laugh again and nudge Hyein. Hyein snorted and I said, "Watching out for Hanni is already a hassle." Hanni looked at me with an open mouth, and Hyein immediately laughed and nudged her.

"It'll only take a day, Unnie," Minji said, looking up from her phone.

I just nodded, not wanting to discuss the topic further. I had complained enough already. Apparently, the others were quite satisfied with the show we would be shooting today.

"Can't we go back to the dogs? They're cuter," I said, which made Haerin nod. Her fingers played with mine, her head still on my shoulder. I smiled as I gave the younger one a gentle kiss on the head.

The rest of the car ride wasn't anything special. Hyein and Hanni watched some Instagram Reels together on Hyein's phone, Minji seemed to be texting someone, while Danielle simply looked out the window. Haerin and I were in our own little bubble, just playfully intertwining our fingers.

The car stopped, and our manager promptly opened the door for us. My hand immediately left Haerin's as I allowed myself to be pulled out of the car, of course, by Danielle.

Together, we entered the building, all eyes on the man in front of us who would explain everything to us. Naturally, he also told us the names of the children and that there was an age group from 2-year-olds to 5-year-olds. I nodded in understanding. Now, apparently, we were allowed to mentally prepare ourselves in the adjacent room while they prepared the set.

"Aw. No babies?" Danielle asked as she pouted and sat down on one of the chairs. Minji chuckled, her hands on her hips. "Babies would have been preferable to me too," the black-haired girl said. My eyes also immediately fell on Haerin, who stood in the completely different corner of the room, her eyes already fixed on me, which made me smile.

"And you? What would you prefer?" I asked, which made Haerin hum a little. She raised her head thoughtfully.

"I don't mind any," she replied after a short pause, which made me nod my head with a smile.

Immediately, Hanni and Hyein also voiced their preferences. The door opened, and we were now allowed to enter the room where the children sat, played, and laughed. Danielle squealed with delight, which amused me and made me shake my head in amusement.

All the children's eyes turned to us, and almost immediately, a boy approached Danielle and dragged her to the play blocks without even asking. I watched the younger one go and smiled a little. Danielle looked really happy. Besides, she was perfect for this job. She was always cheerful, unlike me. I was more... mostly always in a bad mood?

Minji clapped her hands, immediately grabbing the attention of some children. Minji smiled kindly. "Who wants to arm wrestle with Unnie?" she asked cheerfully, and almost immediately, several children jumped up from their chairs, raising their hands and shouting their names loudly.

I hated how loud kids could get, but... they were having fun, so that was okay. At least no one was crying. Hyein and Haerin also mingled and now interacted with the children, but I still just stood there, observing the whole situation.

Suddenly, I heard loud crying right next to me, and my eyes widened in shock as I looked at the young girl, her mouth wide open as she held her fists to her eyes and cried.

With my mouth hanging open, I looked at the crying child and slowly crouched down. A nervous smile on my lips, I asked, "What's wrong?" which seemed to only make the child cry more. Blinking rather surprised, unsure of what exactly I should do, I said, "Uh, everything will be okay. There's nothing dangerous here," trying to comfort the little one.

The girl pointed her finger at me and said, "This Unnie is angry," suddenly, and my eyebrows raised.

I heard Hyein laugh a bit, but she quickly was nudged by Minji warningly. I swallowed. "N-No, I'm not angry," I said, which apparently didn't help. Sighing, I took my hands and pulled my cheeks apart to make a funny face. "I'm just playful," I added with a feigned high-pitched voice. The girl seemed to calm down slowly, although she still had a bit of a hiccup from crying. Her eyes looked at me somewhat more curiously and then she started to laugh.

This is why I hate kids...

I smiled politely. "Do you want to... play with me?" I asked, visibly awkward, but the younger one didn't seem to notice. Her hand grabbed mine, and I really had to fight against myself not to pull my hand away, as she led me to one of the tables. A smile on her face as she placed me next to Hanni and sat herself next to a boy.

Apparently, this was the drawing table.

"These will be good pictures," Hanni said quietly, giggling. She meant the funny face I had just made. I immediately nudged her with my knee so she wouldn't bring it up again. Hanni just chuckled softly as she continued coloring her mandala.

My eyes looked at Minji, who seemed to be playing a monster, Haerin participating as a princess in the roleplay, protected by the children, and Hyein seemed to be reading to one of the children.

Then my eyes fell on a little girl who was reading a book all alone. My eyes narrowed immediately. "Is Unnie angry again?" the girl asked me, on the verge of tears. Panic widened my eyes, and I shook my head and hands frantically. "No, no," I said immediately, which seemed to calm the little one down. I breathed out in relief.

"How old do you think I am?" Hanni asked, smiling, pointing to herself. The boy looked at the girl next to him and then to Hanni. "100?," he asked, and Hanni leaned forward almost immediately, shocked. I chuckled softly, but I tried to suppress it desperately.

My eyes kept drifting back to the little girl who was reading all alone. "Hey," I said, "Hello? Little one?" I asked a bit louder, since she probably couldn't hear me over all the children's noise. The boy in front of Hanni looked at me. "It's no use. She can't hear anything," the boy said casually, but then he proudly lifted up his drawing and grinned at Hanni.

I nodded in understanding, forcing myself not to furrow my brow so the girl wouldn't cry anymore. I leaned closer to Hanni. "I'm going to go over to that girl there," I said, and Hanni immediately nodded her head. I focused my eyes on the little girl as I sat down on the floor in front of her.

Apparently, she hadn't noticed my presence yet, which made me chuckle a bit. So, I tapped on the book on her lap, right in her line of sight. Her brown shining eyes looked at me, her lips slightly parted. With her little finger, she pointed to her ear and then made an X sign.

I simply smiled. Luckily, I knew sign language because my mother had always been hard of hearing and it only got worse with age. "Is the book good?" I asked in sign language, and the girl's eyes widened even more. Her tense face immediately relaxed, and I heard her let out a sigh.

"Yes," she replied with a nod of her head. I smiled gently. "What is it about?" I asked as my eyes briefly glanced at the book and then back to the girl. I could tell that the set's camera was now focusing more on me thanks to the sign language which was surprising for some people. But the rest of the kids didn't seem to care much.

Haerin also looked at me, a broad grin on her lips, prompting Minji to nudge her. Haerin quickly corrected her expression. "It's about a princess who has to kiss a frog. He then becomes a prince," the girl said, which made me nod in understanding.

I chuckled slightly. "Do you want to play something with me? Or should I leave you alone so you can continue reading your book?" I asked patiently. Like Haerin, the little girl lifted her head and seemed to be thinking. I could feel my body relaxing as I waited for the younger one to respond.

"I want to play something," she said with a smile, and I stood up right away. With a smile on my face, I held out my hand to the little one, and she immediately took it. "What do you want to play?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. Once again, the younger one pondered.

"Catching ball. Daddy... never plays with me," the girl said, and I nodded in understanding. I could feel Haerin staring at me the whole time. Our eyes briefly met, and a smile spread across my face. Haerin looked rather proud. I quickly looked away when I noticed my cheeks slowly turning red.

So, I grabbed the ball and looked at the little girl. Slowly, I threw the ball, and she caught it. I clapped my hands in joy, even though she couldn't hear it, she could see it. She jumped up and down excitedly. Now, she was the one throwing the ball to me, and I caught it. Just like before, she clapped her hands, which made my grin even wider. I laughed, and this time, it was definitely genuine.

————————————————————————————

"Okay... it was sweeter than expected," I said as I made myself comfortable in the car, a gentle smile on my face. The door was now closed, and with a jolt, I felt Haerin's lips on mine. My eyes widened, but of course, I kissed my girlfriend back. Her hand on my face, pulling me closer to her.

"Hey. Not in the car," Minji said, and reluctantly, Haerin pulled away from me. She sighed and sat back down normally. I raised my eyebrows, as this behavior was unlike my girlfriend. She was usually more reserved and slower.

Danielle laughed, while Hyein looked amusedly at Minji. "Oh, come on. Let them be. Haerin did really well during the shoot," Hyein said, laughing. "Yeah, when Unnie started with sign language, Haerin almost started drooling," Hanni joked, and immediately, my head turned to Haerin.

"Was that why?" I asked softly, her fingers pressing against mine again. But Haerin just shook her head. "It wasn't about the sign language... it was... just sweet to see you with the child," Haerin answered softly. "Especially since you were smiling, even though you hate kids," Haerin added, her cheeks visibly flushed.

I smiled amusedly as I intertwined our fingers. Immediately, the younger one looked at me. My lips touched hers briefly, of course, otherwise Minji would complain again. "Home, okay?" I asked softly, and Haerin blushed even more. A small smile appeared on her lips, and she squeezed my hand. "Home," she confirmed.

"That's gross. Hyein, don't look," Hanni said, but she was still taking pictures with her phone. Until Hyein eventually photobombed her photos.

[struwberrii]

boyfriend! semi who sends you voice memos late at night of him playing guitar and singing songs he wrote while thinking about you.

it was already 2:45 in the morning and semi was sitting awake in his bed, acoustic guitar in his lap while he typed away in his notes. you were the only thing on his mind, he knew it was cheesy but he couldn’t stop smiling thinking about how pretty you were, how your smile always made him smile, how your hair smelled so good, how your eyes always lit up everytime he walked into the room. after an hour of messing around with different chords he finally made the perfect song for you. he opened his voice memos and started with “sorry, i know you’re probably asleep but i couldn’t stop thinking about you, so i wrote you this…..”

boyfriend! semi who picks you up from work/class everyday just to hear about you ramble about stupid things the whole walk home.

boyfriend! semi who teaches you to play his guitar by sitting you in his lap and guiding your hands on different chords and strings, all while explaining the notes and how to strum.

you were resting your head on semis shoulder, watching him effortlessly strum his guitar. he looked so perfect like that. he looked down at you before he spoke up. “have you ever played guitar?” he said holding it up to you.

“yeah, i have”

“i mean like, ACTUALLY” he said laughing, “here” he gestured to his lap and helped you get comfortable. he rested his guitar in your lap and guided your hands to the neck of his guitar, placing your fingers on different frets and attempting to teach you a very simplified version of one of your favorite songs.

boyfriend! semi who sends you screenshots of his notes app and asks for advice on how to improve his lyrics (also just wants an excuse to text you)

boyfriend! semi who calls you for no reason just to hear the sound of your voice, especially late at night when he’s falling asleep just so you guys can sleep on the phone when you aren’t together

you find yourself going to be way too late again, your in the bathroom finishing up your night routine when you hear your phone vibrate. you finish up in the bathroom and read your boyfriends caller ID on your illuminated phone screen. you quickly pick up the phone :3

“eita? everything ok?” you asked slightly concerned but also this is your boyfriend we’re talking about here, 2 am is his 10 pm.

“i was just up thinking about how i never got to hear about your day today, lay it on me”. he said in that sleepy voice you love oh so much. you smile to your self, getting comfortable in bed while you tell him in detail about your day, knowing the two of you will just end up sleeping on the phone together.

boyfriend! semi who stalks your spotify and plays all your favorite artists while you’re in his car with him

boyfriend! semi who kisses your nose goodbye every time he has to go

you were cuddled up on your couch with semi, watching old movies together. everything felt so comfortable and cozy. you laid in his strong arms, lightly inhaling his cologne off the sweater he wore. suddenly his phone buzzing snapped you out of your trance.

“shit, trouble at the apartment. i gotta head out”. he said propping you up and frantically gathering his things. he had been having some issues with his stove at his apartment so you didn’t blame him for trying to rush back before anything bad happened. before he left, he walked over to you and tilted your head up with his fingers, planting a light kiss on the tip of your nose before flashing you a sweet smile.

“i’ll be back later, love you”.

boyfriend! semi who begs you to come thrift with him because he’s afraid he’ll buy ugly clothes that’ll give you the ick

boyfriend! semi who would never admit it but secretly loves being the little spoon

boyfriend! semi who loves explaining the lore behind all his favorite bands to you but ends up feeling anxious about ranting for so long

boyfriend! semi who keeps polaroids of you everywhere and always keeps a camera on him to take more polaroids

boyfriend! semi who is really good at making sushi and always surprises you with his cooking (or sushi making)

boyfriend! semi who invites you to all his band practices and always gets lectured by his band mates for messing around too much with you there

some of semis band mates shared a house together. they didn’t have any super close neighbors, so they could practice there whenever they felt like it. he thought it would be a pretty boring experience for you so he usually didn’t invite you to come, but sometimes he felt really proud of the new songs they’d rehearse and wanted you to hear them first and live.

the only problem with that was, whenever you sat infront of him on the couch watching him with your pretty eyes, looking so starstruck by him, he seemed to forget how to play guitar entirely. he’d hit wrong frets, fumble lyrics, strum wrong chords. he was a mess. but that didn’t stop him from being shamelessly flirty with you infront of all his band members.

boyfriend! semi who always surprises you with concert tickets to cute romantic artists (like matt maltese or faye webster yk)

boyfriend! semi who also invites you to his favorite artists concerts when they go on tour, which are usually a lot more upbeat and end up with you two singing and jumping in the crowd :]

[rose-lunaire]

music box | hannibal with a musician!S/O

dedicated to all the beautiful artistic souls reading this, i hope you like it!

pairing: hannibal x gn!reader

warnings: yandere behaviour, unspecified age gap, my lack of knowledge of musical terms

you met in the backstage of your first recital

hannibal was mesmerised by your craft, such mature and fresh interpretation of his favourite piece

“that was an excellent performance you gave us”

you nearly dropped your music sheets from shock

“o, oh, thank you so much, sir. to be honest, i was worried the nerves came through too much and ruined it…”

“i assure you, the concerto was flawless. mahler requires this uncertainty and you portrayed that beautifully.”

the way he said it seemed to lift all the weight from your shoulder; there was no room for question in his voice, just pure respect

“pardon me, where are my manners. my name is hannibal lecter and i would like to become your patron”

and that’s how it started: your relationship emerged from this contract and eventually evolved into friendship

in the end blossoming into something more

you always appreciate his remarks while practicing until late at night

he’s your biggest supporter!

always carrying your stuff from practice, saying he can’t allow you hurting yourself

he would massage your hands after long practices, kissing the tips of your fingers like the most delicate of flowers

don’t be shy about your callouses, hannibal sees them as a token of your hard work and dedication

they’re beautiful, just like your mind and heart

he would do anything to protect you from critique

once upon a time someone dared write an unpleasant review of your performance and it was the end of their career

their body was found in the trash behind the opera house the next day and on their blog posted an apology to you, saying they were paid and coerced to say those abhorrent things to you

you never found out about this case, hannibal took you on a retreat to a national park, free of any distractions to “gain inspiration”

he admires you as a connoisseur but also as an artist

he was a bit shy to showcase his work for the first time

but then he fell for you all over again when he heard you playing his pieces

they sound so different yet so familiar, he can’t focus on the notes and instead stares at your hands, mesmerised

you’re his porcelain doll, the most precious treasure he will cherish until the end of his days

displayed only for his deserving eyes, inside a beautiful box, dancing to his tune, twirling around laughing, his applause is the only thing you can hear

too beautiful for others to truly appreciate, you’re hidden away in his study

bound to be perfect