#i want to watch the movie so bad i might cry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vatelixx · 1 month ago

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On the concept of ‘want’, (part 1):

Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader (written with early-ish seasons Spencer in mind)

part two here.

SMUT!! (and fluff, and aftercare because im not a total hedonist), allusions to both Spencer and Reader being switches (but he’s mostly just down bad), autistic Spencer (the way it should be), mean reader (to everyone but him), reader has a very very high IQ when it comes to everything but a pretty genius— Spencer just wants that cookie so fucking bad.

Warnings: sub spencer (but also not entirely; he talks about human anatomy as he destroys her), maaaaaybe slight corruption kink (what? who wrote that there???), mentions of prior bullying and insecurity, first time (for Spencer, yess devirgin that hot nerd!!— do you think the BAU will get him a cake after?), brief mentions of past hypersexuality for reader, kinda rlly domestic. Some undertones of degradation but predominantly praise. Begging, crying (pussy so good he cried), etc etc

w.c: 5k (I feed)

a/n: Spencer’s first time getting fucked, my first time writing smut (we’re both going through it here). I’ve been watching too much Criminal Minds recently, so i’ve reverted back to my tumblr roots (im home i’m home). This is a new acc so like…. hi!!!

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Right person, right time. It’s a concept that Spencer Reid is more than aware of. Define luck, at surface level, it’s a made-up hypothesis, idealistic, fantastical. Conjured up to aid the desperate (or the delusional). It’s something he refused to humour, obstinate to the notion, well, that was until you came spitballing into his life, sharp features, sharper tongue. You could cut with your words alone, a weapon to the BAU, jagged and fast-thinking, and so entirely unattainable. Rorschach tests, and an endless sea of profilers, it doesn’t matter— he’s not sure anyone is ever capable of truly pinpointing you.

Rocky start— after you became a permanent member to the team, it took months to coerce you into dropping your guard. A year and 14 days, to be exact.

But, it was possible. Hardened words and blunt comments shifted into something more with time. A gravitational pull, perhaps, that led to evolution— you, softer with him, more tender than you’ve ever showcased before.

Maybe it was that night when he told you about highschool, about what they did to him, boys like him, who were too intellectual for their own good. Different, in every sense of the word. Bullying at such a young, impressionable age can have prominent effects, chronic stress inflicted on an underdeveloped brain, they tied him to goal posts, stripped him naked, endless torment that he still carries with him now. Maybe that’s why you lowered your defenses. Put down the sword.

And sure, he never expected anything, nor asked for anything. He was definite that he wouldn’t get to experience cliche-dating. Longing glances and anticipated moments. It’s not like he was ever the most appealing candidate, too nervous, too neurodivergent. It’s hard to grow out of the mentality that no, everyone isn’t making fun of you, not when it consumed the entirety of his adolescence. That you can walk into a room, and not be seen, targeted, as an outcast. He’s just different. But he’s also human, and the chemicals in his brain do make him want.

You apparently. Because, you looked at him softly once, and he was done. Ruined. Gone for good. Or, in Morgan’s personal opinion, whipped.

And illogically, you wanted him too. That wasn’t ever part of the equation.

But theres a pattern now— dates every weekend. Movies, cafes, museums, an endless onslaught of you. Because somehow, thanks to luck, you reciprocated. He’ll never understand why, you’re too beautiful (it’s a hazard), but he tries. He tries.

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December. A haze of christmas markets and blanketing coldness. You kiss him outside and he thinks he might be dying. You make him burn cold. He’s a logical person, so obviously he’s aware that he’s only freezing because your hands are shoved in his pockets, a desperate bid to seek warmth, but regardless, it’s more than he ever expected.

He laughs against your lips, fingers gripping the front of your coat as he draws you backwards so that you’re resting against a wall. “Mm..” he hums, “You should kiss me more often.”

Everyone knows. The entire team is aware of this, an unspoken agreement that your lingering moments and aimless touching are not platonic in the slightest. You work with profilers, secrets are never quite effective. Everyone knows, but it’s taboo, something that needs to be left undisturbed. Do they expect you to break him? Does he? Maybe, maybe it would be worth it— to hurt for you, because it’s always been you. He’ll take anything, he’s not greedy. He’ll live off scraps if he has to, anything to satiate this want that burns solely for you.

“Actually.. you should just always be kissing me,” he suggests, tone soft, “Every day of the week. All the time. And—“ he laughs, “You should also stop stealing body warmth. It’s rude. Hypothermia usually occurs when body temperature dips to around 95F, oh oh but there are so many factors to consider—“

“Is this you trying to imply you’re cold?” you ask.

“Perhaps. Or maybe i’m implying you should be working harder to warm me up.”

You’ve grown soft, he thinks. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this level of affection. But its okay, you justify, mostly because it’s him. Spencer, and his pretty smile, and strange habits (sitting cross legged on tables, drinking coffee with excessive sugar, endless facts and a plethora of soft yearning glances at you when you’re interrogating— as if you’re not tearing an unsub to pieces). It’s terrifying, constant eggshells, because you can’t hurt him. Not like the others, distant fragments of your past.

You laugh in response to his comment, admiring the sight of him: flushed, with swollen lips and dilated eyes. He deserves to be like this, so thoroughly assured that despite all odds, you’re invested. All cards on the table. “You have a lot of requests, boy genius.”

He smiles boyishly. You’re hard lines, sure, a blade that can draw blood, but somehow, somehow, he’s always left unscathed. “Alright,” he answers, “You want requests? Here’s one, stay the night. Come over, stay over, i’ll cook breakfast and try not to burn it— and, and you can have the good side of the bed.”

“Spence,” you mutter, because of course there’s an underlying intention to ‘staying over’ and you're trying to be good here. To not let this fall into your past mistakes of sex and inevitable self-inflicted disgust. A cyclical cycle that clings to your skin. Everything is so new to him, the intimacy, the affection, and it’s nice being able to witness it— to see his reactions to innocuous touches, always disbelieving that he’s capable of this.

Fresh-eyes, so untainted to the sharpness of modern ‘love’.

You cup his face, god, under the dim shadows of the streetlight he’s beautiful. It’s a little alarming to be honest. More so disheartening really, because despite how much you remind him, he never believes you— obstinately refusing your compliments, as if you’d ever mock him. No, he’s different. He’s tender and disarming, and sometimes it feels unholy to touch him with calloused hands.

But, to Spencer, there is nothing unholy to this; the second you touch him, the entire universe crashes down into a singular moment.

“Just stay the night,” he reaffirms. It’s taken him over a month to get to this point, to be able to voice his wants, to comprehend his wants. Now, his thumb traces its way down the side of your face, tangible, real. “And tomorrow morning, there’ll be coffee and pancakes and—“ he laughs, “And there won’t be any regrets. I promise.”

You’re looking at him, wide-eyed and slightly disbelieving (because he’s somehow stumbled through the minefield of you without any consequences). He leans forward, his forehead resting against yours. “Don’t make me beg. I will beg.”

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To confirm, he makes you incautious, irrational, willing to blatantly disregard any sort of control. Of course you end up at his apartment; the moment he mentioned begging, you were already half-way down the street.

Spencer’s place is… well, it’s everything you’d expect of him. Scattered novels adorning the floor, a mess of untidy thoughts, neglected papers on science, endless open textbooks left half-abandoned for other pursuits. It’s so him, clean but discombobulated.

He wants to apologize, make excuses for the lack of order, he probably should. He doesn’t do that though. He only crosses the room, stopping when he’s standing right in front of you, just gazing down. He has no idea what’s to come— for once, there are no patterns, no statistics he can reference.

So, he reaches for you, fingers tugging at the edges of your jacket. “Arms. Up,” he instructs and god, it’s a stupid order, but you follow it without any protest. He folds it over the couch, abandoned. Putting it back on alludes to leaving, and he’s hopeless enough to never want you to leave.

His hands then gravitate back to you and he starts to tug aimlessly at the material of your shirt. It’s been raining, and the fabric is soaked. “Hm,” he hums, “Off. Take it off.”

You laugh at that. Straight to the point. You don’t follow his orders, because one was certainly enough, and you’ve never been the type to obey blindly. Instead, you grip his waist, drive him back towards the nearest surface. An end table, some books go clattering, light damage, they’ll survive. His response is a gasp, a hitch of the breath.

“I was promised the good side of the bed, breakfast, pancakes. But sex? Hm, did you invite me over just to get in my pants? I’m wounded, Reid.” you mutter, pressing a series of soft kisses along the curvature of his jaw.

“No! No,” he retorts, breathless, “I was going to get you some comfortable clothes to change into. Damp clothes breed bacteria. You made this dirty,” Adding, “And not in the way I was concerned about.” under his breath.

You roll your eyes, “Oh, here we go—“ sure, you have the experience he lacks, but you’ve been on your best behavior. Dirty? That’s an insult to the exhausting self-restraint you’ve upheld recently.

“Yes— i’m the dirty one here, clearly.” you scoff, “Just casually corrupting you,” You tug him away from the end-table because you don’t want him bruised in any way, shape or form (it’s actually distressing; when you’re working, you seem hellbent on making sure no one even thinks about laying a hand on him. Unsubs be damned.)

Ego-centric, completely independent, individualistic until he came along.

You push him back against the couch, watching as he stumbles, as he falls. For a minute he just lies there, looking up at you with hazy eyes— pupils dilated and lips parted on a half-pained gasp.

And it’s a sight to see, the brilliant prodigy, the young genius, his normally-composed features now twisted into something stricken. His hands tighten around the material of the couch and he lets out a sound that’s a cross between a whine and a groan.

“Oh—“ that’s just a clear-cut moan, “You can definitely definitely keep corrupting me, in fact I endorse it. Completely.”

“3 PHDS, 2 B.A’s and you’re currently asking me to corrupt you? I don’t know, Doctor Reid, that’s certainly very forward,” you say, moving to sit on his lap, aware that you really should entertain this spot more often, even if you’re at severe risk of deflating.

Deflating. God. When did it come to this?

He laughs, “You’re the only person in this entire world that makes me act without a single coherent thought,” IQ abolished. “So yeah,” he murmurs, fingers tracing mindless patterns across the exposed strip of skin above your waistline. “Defini-definitively corrupt me.”

It’s taken so much to get to this point. So much to unpack, to understand, from Spencer’s perspective. There’s a lifetime of bullying that he has to dismantle, and sometimes he still anticipates the punchline when you kiss him— the biting laughs, not entirely dissimilar to school, when someone would belittle him, fake being his friend just for entertainment value.

So, when you stumble into the bedroom, when you remove his shirt, he knows this is improvement. He’s fighting this internal battle, unsure on how he should act: coy or defiant. Both, really. He wants to cover himself up, to pretend like you don’t disarm him, to fight and fight until you make him bleed. Anything, he’ll take anything from you.

“You are so so pretty,” you mutter when he’s sprawled out across the bed. You’ve never been someone to resort to praise; sex had always been cold and clinical, something to relieve stress, to undermine the burden of work, and the endless weight of sanguinary. But now? If he is the eye of the storm, then you’ll happily commit to the chaos of this.

“Careful, you’ll make me inherit a disorder here.” he mutters. Narcism— he’s the least likely to ever develop such symptoms. “Or cry. I could cry, it’s a potential. Maybe break-down?”

“Or,” he adds, his hands tracing up towards your shoulder blades. “All of the above. The trifecta of issues. It’s very likely.”

He rolls over on top, you’re down to just your lingerie now, pretty lace contrasting against your skin. Removing your clothes had been a whole ordeal, he’s fairly certain he almost died; you’re the epitome of beautiful, and he’s not sure how he ended up with everything when he was so resolute, silently accepting, he would always obtain nothing.

“I want to kiss you, but I don’t know, I feel like my body has lost the ability to function at the moment.” he breathes out.

“You should definitely kiss me,” you confirm, posing it as a choice, one that he has any say over— when in reality, youre already tugging him closer. Lips meeting lips. It’s not sane how the world fades into a nebulous haze the moment your mouths connect; time remains constant, logistically, nothing has changed. But it’s just so much that for a moment you doubt the concept of existence, doubt everything but him.

Genius falling for genius. Only you could laugh when he traces molecules into your skin. Spelling out words with elements: Livermorium, Uranium. LV U, it might not be an exact replica of the three worded phrase, but it certainly gets the point across.

“Spence—“ you bite into his lip, tugging the soft tissue between your teeth.

He groans, whimpers, pulls you closer, eliminating every infinitesimal distance between, slotting his hips against yours. He draws away from your mouth, lips leaving a trail of kisses down your neck as he reaches for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours and pinning it against the bed. His free one is now wandering, slipping beneath your panties to touch.

“Do you know how much I studied about human anatomy after you first kissed me?”

“Weeks.” he answers when you respond with a muffled groan. Your hands are on his back now, tracing the journey of his spine. He’s in over his head, but there’s so much want, so much he wants to do but never thought he would be capable of. And oh, when he begins to draw circles against your clit, slow experimental halos, those soft touches of yours evolve into grasping, gripping. By the time he’s got a finger slotted inside, he’s fairly certain he’s being scratched. Nail indents and faint white lines, souvenirs.

“I know about every erogenous zone the human body possesses, every single one.” He says, because whilst he might lack in physical experience, he has enough intellect to memorize placement, biology. Plus, he’s a fast learner. His finger bends, and both of you moan.

“Spence— fuck, feels good.” you gasp, tangled hands clutching tighter, tighter again until your knuckles are white and you’re trembling.

The human body is something of a fascination to him; the way it reacts, how each nerve and ligament can respond to even the most tentative of touches. But you aren’t every human, you are you, and he has an insatiable desire to discover and catalog every single response your body gives.

He adds another finger, slowly, eyes fixed on your face, gauging the reaction. When he curls both digits, a sharp exhale is your response. “I’m convinced I’ve discovered new anatomy facts in the last few months, just because of you.”

Maybe it’s not fair that he’s so good. First times are supposed to be fumbling and awkward, a mess of hormones and inexperience. To say you haven’t been touched like this before is a severe understatement. The meaningless sex, the onslaught of bodies doesn’t measure up to him, the way he’s so focused on how you respond, on what your body enjoys— it would be endearing (and it is!), but you're currently too preoccupied to voice such a notion.

“Doing so good, holy shit—“ you mutter, blissed out beyond comprehension. You're making art on his back, only vaguely aware of the pain. Though when you realize you’ve scarred his skin, you're drawing away, moving to tangle your hand in his hair instead. But Spencer doesn’t even care, doesn’t even register the inflictions; he likes the physical marks you leave behind, a tangible remnant of all you do to him.

And sure, he’d laugh, usually, at your responses. But it’s hard to laugh, when his own ability to form any coherent sound has been completely destroyed. He’s a mess, his breathing shaky, and his brain is a constant buzz of fragmented musings consisting of you, you, you.

He draws his fingers out, earning a discernible groan, maybe a fuck you (which he does intend to do). But right now, he’s already slotting his face between your thighs, removing those soaked, ruined, panties of yours. He doesn’t have a single thing to compare it to. But he already knows this is his favorite place to be, and he’s fairly certain he’ll be spending most nights between your thighs, learning and memorizing every reaction and noise, each movement, and the ways to repeat them.

He runs his tongue along your clit, savoring just how wet you are, a mess that he can bury his face into. You’re looking down at him with something akin to shock now, and he can only laugh, blow air against your clit, then drag his tongue back over the sensitive bud, drawing it into his mouth to suck.

His movements are tentative at first, unpractised, but soon gaining confidence. He doesnt need to do this, you're aware— you could take him now. And yet, hes here, between your thighs for no reason other than want. Your reaction is visceral, because it’s always been about efficiency in the past, quick touches to get you there before the other person can derive their own pleasure from the act.

He’s not like that. God, hes not like that at all.

“Oh,” is all you can say, gripping his hair down to the root, instructing each movement until he gains incentive, finding repeat patterns that your body reacts to. Then, you can only arch and moan, noises filtered out into the air. He’s back to opening you up now, two deft fingers pressed inside, working diligently to tear you apart.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say to me? Oh?” he retorts.

“Shut up,” you huff, “Put that mouth of yours to work.”

“Mhm— I plan to. God, you’re so perfect.” he mutters, voice distorted, muffled. “That’s it—“ he fights the urge to explain exactly what’s occurring in your body every time his fingers abuse that spot. Instead, he keeps his mouth busy.

He’s certain he’s memorized most areas of your body from years of pining, and that’s what brings him an unrepentant sense of satisfaction. Because he was memorizing your body, you, long before he even got the chance to touch or taste you.

“Wanna stay here,” he says, and he’s being petulant now, because there’s something so good about being reduced to movements. To follow the pattern, to take care of your body, mindless to anything else but you. Pussy-drunk, to put it less eloquently.

“Shit,” you buck up against his mouth, watching as he buries his face entirely into you, as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, nose bumping bumping your clit, consuming his senses entirely.

“Use my face, yeah. ‘M all yours anyway.”

“Fuck, fuck fuck— Spence. Gonna cum—“

When you fall apart, inevitable, he doesn’t stop— not until you’re boneless and spent beneath him. Back arching, stars burning through closed eyes. Pretty constellations that have you blissed out beyond belief. The pleasure is white-hot, feverish in intensity.

And then he’s moving, shifting his body back over you. He’s all soft touches and languid kisses against your mouth, not bothering to break contact as he settles himself fully over you, the weight of his hips pressing into yours. He’s hard, dick pushing up against his boxers, his sexual libido had always been low until you came into his life. Now, his wants seem to fight for release constantly.

“My turn, I believe.” he grins, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Not that you have to, of course. It’s not an obligation, uh— more so a beg?”

“Of course it’s an obligation,” he goes to protest, to say you don’t owe him anything, so you sigh. “A thankyou, maybe?”

Fumbling hands, still shaky from pleasure, undo buttons. Unclasping his belt, removing loose fabric until he's bare before you. There’s something nervous to his gaze, something unspoken, lingering in the air. “Hey, hey. I’ve got you, yeah? You’re okay,” you promise, before your eyes shamelessly look down. He’s straining, pre-cum lingering at his tip, dick pressed up against his stomach now. “Fuck, okay— yeah. Good. Great even.” first time you've ever stumbled over a sentence in your life.

There’s so much to be concerned about. The fact he’s naked, that you could destroy everything with a few serrated words, years and years of rebuilding, reconstructing. But you don’t— and he can’t help but laugh nervously. “Glad to be up to your standards. I’d uh, hate to disappoint.”

“Always the over-achiever,” you respond, shifting away from him— there’s amusement to your expression when he groans, pitifully, when he rolls onto his back, draping an arm over his face.

Predictable. Condoms in his bedside table. At least he's prepared. You open the wrapper with your teeth, discarding it somewhere amongst the tangle of limbs and sheets, too hellbent on finding him again.

Oh, in this position, you have full, unrestricted view of his body. Endless planes of skin, begging to be marked, sentenced indefinitely to your touch. By the time you straddle his hips, hes a flushed mess beneath you. “I— um, you look really really pretty right now.” he stumbles, idiot.

His dilated eyes take you in. Every contour and curve, the way your hair hangs over your face, eyes up eyes up eyes up. He fails when you run your hand across his dick, thumb brushing against the tip. By the time you’ve slipped the condom over him, hes gone. Bucking and moaning, and so so much better than his hand could ever be.

He wants to be inside of you, but it’s hard to think right now, let alone vocalize the words. I want, he thinks, I want everything, with you.

Your name is on his tongue, muttered and repeated, a reverent prayer of sorts. He needs to gain back his control here, to return to equal footing.

“Yeah—“ he breathes out, “So much of an overachiever, considering I had you making all of those noises—“ his words falter, die out, when you sink down. When you take him. Wrapped around, tight. Warm heat that sets alight every nerve in his overstimulated body. He has half the mind to apologize for his comment because you’re about to ruin him, he knows.

“I thought you wanted me to corrupt you, hm?” you retort. The pace is slow, mostly for his own sanity. Though, the feel of him, the way he slots into you, warm skin pressed against warm skin is intoxicating, and it’s a battle to keep your composure. To not just fall apart under the weight of him.

“What’s that, pretty boy? Struggling? Because you were so egotistical a few seconds ago? Where’s all that ego gone? Straight between your legs, I think.”

A whimper. It’s a whimper, a pained thing ripped straight from his throat. He’s making indiscernible noises now, messy sounds pooling from his swollen lips. The praise, the strained undertones of degradation? It’s too much. But god does he love you for it, because that’s you through and through. Sharp, and brittle to everyone but him, he wants to look, he does, albeit he has to turn his head to the side, bury half of his face in a pillow because he’s gone. At this point, he can only take it.

“I— um, mhm. Yeah,” he slurs. He’s almost incoherent at this point; he’s been reduced to nothing, just a mass of skin, bone, and flesh at your disposal, to own and use and he can’t find it in himself to feel humiliated about it, not when it’s you.

“Can’t— um, I was wrong, you’re— oh god,” the sounds of your body hitting his, back arching as your pace picks up. “Oh, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry —baby, can’t, can’t take it. That’s…”

It’s a lot for his first time, that’s for certain.

“Yes, you you can. I know you can, Spence.” you mutter, interlocking your fingers, letting them hang near your hips. “You feel so good— so so fucking good. Look at you, so brain dead for me. Taking it all so well, love.”

Love?— oh he wants to be buried with that one. He’s a mindless disaster, impenetrably devoted to you alone.

He doesn’t even know how he’s saying words at this point, it’s as if his brain-to-mouth connection has been severed by your very presence itself. It’s not possible to form a coherent thought when you’re riding him like this, taking him so deep that he’s seeing stars. There’s tears pooling in his eyes, he looks pretty when he cries. Especially when it’s derived from pleasure, when he can let go of the burdens, everything he’s endured, when it’s just sensation. Nothing more, no more thoughts.

There’s safety here, an element of home, home home bliss, that has him keening. He wants to stay buried here forever, where nothing can ever hurt him again. When it’s just you, and your pretty words, and your exploitative power to destroy him. You never do, anyway. Even when you could, you restrain.

“Can’t, ’m gonna…, Please, please, don’t stop.” he whines, “Pleasepleaseplease— oh, can’t— I can’t.”

He grips you tight, rolls you over, mostly so he can feel you closer. The sight of you riding him was excruciating, but this is worse because now there’s no gap separating you. Now, he can bury his face into the crook of your neck, burn himself in the warmth of your touch.

“Spence..” you mutter.

“I know. I know—“ hes ruined, sloppy thrusts, whimpers catching against the stifling air. “Feels s’good.”

He doesn’t know what to do, how to breathe, so he just runs his thumb over your clit, watching your prominent reaction, watching as you gasp, moan— oh, and then you’re clenching around him, tightening the pleasure, and yesyesyes.

You’re too gone, moving still, and he can only cant his hips forwards, buck and squirm until he’s sobbing under the weight of your ministrations, releasing so hard that he can barely remember his name, no cognitive function, in the haze of his orgasm.

“There’s my boy— so pretty for me.” he can vaguely hear you saying, and if you’re talking him through it, he can only hear snippets of praise now anyway.

“Mhm— mhm. Yours, yeah.” he mumbles, body sinking against the sheets, a few little whimpers escaping his lips as you milk the rest of his pleasure from him.

Tangled limbs and sweat-stained skin. “You okay?” you ask in the aftermath.

“So okay,” he agrees, shifting closer, back pressed against your torso— sue him for being little spoon.

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The next morning, you wake to an absence of Spencer. It’s unsettling, to say the least. So, you're quick to fumble over the buttons of one of his shirts, fabric creased, matching the tousled nature of your hair, disheveled, remnants of the ruination of last night.

For a moment, you consider that he might’ve left — but there he is, in the kitchen, attempting to make breakfast.

“Hey,” you mutter, leaning against the counter to watch.

Scratches adorn his back, indent marks from your nails, crescent reminders, stain his waist, and he’s content to wear them. If anything, he can’t wait to add to the budding collection.

Pancakes. The good side of the bed. Coffee. All of his promises from last night are being thoroughly met, even if he’s burning the food, and shit, he didn’t realize the coffee would be finished so soon. For all his calculations, he’s fairly off-center today.

And then, you come padding across his kitchen, embellished in only his shirt, unbuttoned near the top to expose your collarbone, and he’s fairly certain the last remainders of his IQ disappear.

“Hi! Hi,” he says, wide-eyed, “Um, making.. breakfast. You look, wow yeah.”

Breakfast lays forgotten.

#spencer reid #sub spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #he deserves this #let the man fuck!!!!!

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smileysuh · 1 year ago

Text

forget him

🌙 staring. Haechan x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “What if… what if I helped you out a little?” His words hang in the air, and your room feels thick with tension. You’re acutely aware of the toy still pressed between your thighs. “Look,” Hyuck says, voice softer, “I hate seeing you cry- but seeing you cry about something good might make us both feel better.”

tw/cw. recent breakup, fingering, Hyuck walks in while y/n is masturbating, masturbation, assisted masturbation, toy/dildo use, overstimulation, dacryphilia, reader has multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, big dick Hyuck, pussy stretching, dirty talk, praise, talking about y/n's ex while they fuck, marking/claim kink, full/breeding kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) gorgeous, babe, good girl.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 7.1k

🍭 aus. friends to lovers, roommates au, recent breakup, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. When I tell you I need to be demolished by this Hyuck-

Hyuck absolutely hates seeing you like this.

He’d thought it had been hard seeing you in love with his best friend Mark Lee, but seeing you in the throws of depression after your recent breakup takes the cake for Hyuck when it comes to him having a straight up horrible time.

Obviously, you have it worse, and he’s not trying to contest that fact- he just hadn’t realized that when the thing he’d been hoping for actually came to pass- it would feel this bad.

In the dark reaches of his mind, he wonders if he’d had something to do with the separation, although, in truth, he knows that’s ridiculous. He’d been as supportive as a friend and roommate could be about you and Mark. He’d forced smiles and words of encouragement when you’d gushed through the talking phase. He’d found ways to ditch the apartment when you and Mark started to get physical, doing his best to give you privacy while getting high as a kite at Lee Jeno’s place to distract himself from the fact that you were getting railed by someone other than him. And now, he supposes, he’s doing his due diligence in making you feel better when you’re at your worst.

Hyuck’s doing the best he can to make things easy for you. He’s set up movie days, and he’s made you ramen. He’s allowed you to shuffle closer to him on the couch, even resting your head on his shoulder any time you start to tear up. He’s paused films to listen to you explain things like “When Mark and I watched this, he would always get so excited when Totoro would show up” or “Mark hated No Face.”

He wonders if doing a Ghibli marathon is the best idea, given how much you associate it with Mark, but when he’d asked you about it and you insisted you would feel better watching the films, he’d left it at that.

You’re your own person, and Hyuck’s always trusted you to make the best decisions for yourself… even when he doesn’t agree with them.

Cuddled next to you on your living room couch, Hyuck does his best just to be there for you. He ignores the boys’ group chat messages, where other friends are taking care of Mark. As far as Hyuck’s concerned, he’s team you, all the way, and he always has been.

He notices the way you start to shift next to him, pulling away from his shoulder to stretch your arms over your head.

“You good?” Hyuck asks, looking away from the movie to give you his complete and undivided attention.

“Yeah,” you sigh, frowning slightly. “Just tired.”

“Do you want to go to bed?” He studies your face, noticing all the signs of exhaustion- although, to be fair, you’ve been a sleepy wreck of a thing since your breakup two weeks ago.

“I probably should,” you concede, taking another deep breath. “Thanks for making me dinner and watching movies with me.”

“Don’t mention it,” Hyuck says, flashing you a small smile as he straightens in his seat, reaching for the remote to stop the movie.

“You’ve been so nice since… since the whole Mark thing.” He can see you swallowing back tears, and you reach up to wipe your eye with the sleeve of your hoodie.

“That’s what friends are for,” Hyuck assures you, although, his attention toward you has always far surpassed that of a friend. It’s a shame you’ve never realized that fact.

“Just… thanks,” you say again, holding open your arms for a hug that Hyuck is more than happy to give you.

He adjusts on the couch, leaning forward to scoop you into his arms. Your cheek presses to his shoulder and he breathes in the smell of your fruity body wash. He tries his best not to hug you too hard- because if he did, you might actually realize that every time you hug him, he has no true intention of ever letting you go.

“Sleep well, okay, gorgeous?” he prompts, stroking your hair and using the petname he’d given you far before you’d ever met Mark. “You really need your rest.”

“I’ll do my best,” you assure him, giving one last gentle squeeze before you pull away.

Hyuck watches you stand up, your hoodie skimming your mid thigh. He knows you’re wearing sleeping shorts under the oversized fabric, but he can’t help but swallow thickly, imagining what it would be like if you were just in panties.

He really has to get his mind out of the gutter, and Hyuck knows that- he’s been trying to, in all honesty he has- but it’s been four years of knowing you, one of living together, and he still can’t manage to keep his thoughts PG.

With one last small smile, you turn and begin to shuffle to your room.

He misses your lively movements. The first night you’d moved in together, you’d had a small dance party together, and Hyuck’s always been adamant that no one’s hips move like yours do.

He misses your joy. The way you sparkle when you’re happy. You used to smile like a kid in a candy shop anytime you watched your favourite movies or ate the ramen he’d made for you, but these days, the most you can muster is a small upquirk of the sides of your lips.

Hyuck wants to make you smile again. He’s just not sure how to do it.

He knows you need time. Time heals all wounds, or so they say. He just wishes he could fast track your recovery.

Your bedroom door shuts and the spell of watching you is broken. Hyuck takes a deep breath, looking around the messy living room. There are blankets and pillows strewn all over, take out boxes from your day inside, tissues from when you’d cried.

He’s not generally known to be the cleanest man around town, but Hyuck feels that in times like these, the least he can do is keep things tidy. He’s sure you’ll feel better to come out of your room every morning to a nice apartment, so he begins his work of collecting water cups and take away boxes.

You’ve definitely lost your spark, and Hyuck thinks maybe he has too. He’s used to playing music loudly, using it as energy at all hours of the day, but tonight, while he cleans, he keeps things quiet. His head is full, and his ears are on edge, paying attention to the sounds coming from your room.

In those first days after the breakup, he’d heard you crying a lot, and he’s sure that barging into your room to give you a hug had cheered you up. He’s hoping it won’t be necessary today.

As much as he loves hugging you, seeing you cry always makes him feel like someone is trying to tear open his chest and clench his heart. It’s an ache he doesn’t enjoy.

When you’d moved in together, he’d decided that as a girl - with monthly girl issues - you should have the bigger room with the connected bathroom, and he listens to the sound of you brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed.

You begin to hum something, and Hyuck realizes it’s the first time he’s heard you sing since your breakup.

Maybe tonight will be a good night.

Hyuck has moved all the clutter to the kitchen, and he begins to put stuff in the garbage and dishwasher while he listens to you hum. He thinks about the day you met, at uni orientation. He’d never become friends with someone so fast in his life, and when you’d discovered you had three of five classes together- well, he’s never looked back, not for one second.

He wonders how things would be different if he’d ever manned up and told you how he felt- how he feels- how his affection for you has only been growing and growing-

Hyuck finds himself heading to the fridge and taking out a beer. He hasn’t been drinking much since you and Mark broke up, hasn’t needed the mind-numbing effects of alcohol, so when he takes a large swig, he finds that it immediately takes the edge off.

He can’t be thinking about wifing you up right now- no matter how much he might wish to.

Although… as he leans against the sink and downs the can, grabbing another, he begins to wonder if offering himself up to you as a distraction really would be the worst thing in the world.

Sure, it wouldn’t be the way he’d want to start things with you- but maybe he could make you fall in love with him and forget all about Mark Lee. However, in all honesty, he’d probably be risking your friendship.

He’s played this mind game with himself too many times before, and Hyuck always finds himself at a stalemate. Frustration bubbles up inside and he looks out at the living room, determined to set himself back on the task of cleaning.

Hyuck throws the pillows onto the couch, and he even begins to fold up a blanket, and that’s when he hears a familiar sound.

You’ve never been the type to seek much affection, especially when you’re in your room, so whenever he’s caught you crying, it’s always started with a whimper.

What Hyuck’s just heard was definitely a whimper, and his whole body surges with white-hot, electric energy, his eyes darting to your door. His breath catches, and he tosses the blanket down to the ground, frozen as he waits for another sound of distress.

A small gasp can be heard under the crack of your door, and Hyuck’s body bolts into action. He’s moving so fast he stumbles a little over his own feet just as he reaches your room, and he wonders if drinking two beers was a good idea. His hand lands on your door, and he knocks aggressively.

“You okay in there, gorgeous?” he calls.

“I’m fine!” you respond, but there’s definitely an edge to your voice.

He can tell something is wrong- can tell you’re lying to him, and in a split second, Hyuck is making a decision.

“I’m coming in.”

You let out a small squeak of surprise, tearing your hand away from the toy still lodged inside of you so you can pull the blankets up around your shoulders, jaw dropping as your roommate barges into your room.

“Hyuck!”

He stands in the doorway, studying you, and you can see a look of confusion cross his face. “I thought I heard you crying.”

“I’m not crying!” you insist, core clenching around the dildo. “Get out!”

Hyuck doesn’t move. “I definitely heard a whimper,” he insists.

Your heart is practically racing in your chest, and you’re very much aware of the pleasurable feeling still thrumming from your core. Cock warming was something you enjoyed doing with Mark, and the fact that you’re cock warming a toy while Hyuck stares at you is having a wholly unexpected effect on your entire body.

“People whimper for all sorts of reasons!” you say dumbly. “Leave!”

Hyuck tilts his head to the side, assessing you again. “You never speak to me like this.”

“You usually don’t just barge in here unannounced!”

“Yes, I do,” Hyuck points out. “Why’s tonight different?”

“What do you mean-”

“Something is different,” he says, more firmly this time. His gaze dips, taking in the blanket still wrapped tightly around your form. “Wait…” you see the exact moment he realizes what you’re up to, and even from a few feet away, you see the way his pupils dilate. “Are you…”

“Hyuck-” you groan, lifting the blankets to hide your face, hoping he can’t see the shame that’s beginning to consume you.

“You are, aren’t you?”

“Are what?” you ask, deciding to play dumb.

You can hear him scoff, and you peak from under the blanket just in time to see his signature eye roll. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, something he does when he’s getting annoyed, and you can feel yourself dripping down your dildo.

He meets your gaze again. “I didn’t hear a vibrator, so let me guess…” You watch him swallow thickly. “The toy’s still inside of you, isn’t it?”

Curse him for knowing you so well.

Curse him for having a dirty mind.

And maybe most of all, curse yourself for being so stupidly turned on that you can’t even deny what he’s just said. All you can do is groan loudly, hiding again.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asks after a beat of silence.

“Yes!”

You hear him click his tongue. “Come on, gorgeous. We both know I can tell when you lie to me. We’ve been friends for years, you don’t have to be… ashamed about this.”

But shame is exactly what you’re feeling, and his words don’t help at all.

“Please, just leave,” you sigh, so embarrassed you think you might actually die.

“What if… what if I helped you out a little?”

His words hang in the air, and your room feels thick with tension. You’re acutely aware of the toy still pressed between your thighs.

“Look,” Hyuck says, voice softer, “I hate seeing you cry- but seeing you cry about something good might make us both feel better.”

“You’re being crazy.” You peak out at him. “We’re roommates- Mark is one of your best friends-”

“I’ve known you longer and I’m loyal to you,” Hyuck insists firmly. “And besides, stranger things have happened.”

“Yeah? Like what?” you can’t help but laugh a little, and the contraction of your stomach muscles pushes the toy slightly out of your core, making you groan at the loss.

From the look that crosses Hyuck’s face, he obviously notices your sound, and you watch his tongue dart out to wet his lips. “For one, the fact that you even dated Mark was a little crazy.”

“He’s a nice guy.”

“But nice doesn’t fill you up at night. Nice doesn’t make you cum so hard you feel it through your whole body.” Hyuck holds up a hand. “And before you try to tell me Mark was good in bed, remember that I have a room next to yours. Mark is a nice guy, but that doesn’t mean he can fuck. Not the way you deserve.”

You shift in your bed, sitting up a little to address your roommate. “Yeah? And how do I deserve to be fucked?”

“You deserve someone who’s going to worship every inch of you. Someone who’s going to make you cum over and over- make you gush so good you’re begging for it, begging to finally get dicked down so hard you can’t even walk after. Someone who makes you cry for all the right reasons.”

You stare at Hyuck.

You’re not even sure what to say.

He’s never talked like this to you, ever- at least, not in your waking hours.

You’ve had dreams about his sharp tongue, his long fingers, and his big cock- but never gave credence to your lustful fantasies. Hyuck’s always just been a friend-

“Why now?” you find yourself asking. “After all this time-”

“I’m tired of watching you hurt over something I might be able to help you fix.”

“So cock is the fix to a broken heart?”

“Gorgeous, I think we both know that what I’m offering you is more than cock.”

“Right, I’m guessing tongue and fingers-”

Hyuck gives you an unimpressed look. “Are you really going to make me say it?”

“Say what?”

“That I’m super into you? That I’ve been into you since we met? That it killed me to watch you be with Mark when I knew you should have been with me?”

“Hyuck-” you breathe, feeling even more whiplash from these words than his dirty talk.

“Look, you don’t have to say anything about that stupid feels shit, just… just let me take care of you tonight.”

“What if we regret it?” You press your thighs together, keeping the toy just inside of you while you begin to fidget with your blanket. “What if it ruins our friendship?”

“I’ve asked myself that same question for years,” Hyuck admits. “But… after looking at you now- I really don’t think that’s something we have to worry about.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’m about to make you cum so hard you forget about every other man in your life.”

“Promise?”

He nods. “Promise.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Hyuck lets out a small laugh. “So… you going to lift those covers and let me see what I’m dealing with or…?”

“God,” you groan, hiding your face in your hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

“I call you gorgeous for a reason, don’t I?” Hyuck grins. “Come on, I wanna see.”

You grab at the blankets, taking a deep breath. Then you start to move them off your body.

Your roommate watches your every movement, dipping his head to focus as you lift the fabric covering your feet, then your calves-

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you tell him.

“Yeah, me neither,” Hyuck admits. “I’ve been waiting so long to see you like this.”

His words make your stomach erupt in butterflies, and you feel the toy still half wedged in your core. “Should I… should I remove the dildo first?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I wanna see that too.” His eyes meet yours. “Don’t be embarrassed. You’re so fucking hot, I’m already hard.”

He reaches a hand down to cup the front of his sweatpants, and you realize he’s not lying. You can see the impressive print of his cock pressing against the fabric, and it makes your mouth water. It also gives you the confidence to fully reveal yourself to his hungry eyes, and the moment he sees you, Hyuck lets out a deep groan.

“Shit, gorgeous,” Hyuck says, letting out a deep breath. “You’re even more perfect than I’ve imagined.”

His words make you feel shy, and you close your legs, only for Hyuck to press a knee to the bed, both hands reaching out to prompt your thighs back open.

“Don’t hide from me,” he warns, and there’s an edge to his tone. He’s still being soft with you, his touch gentle, but there’s an obvious hunger rising inside of him. “Tell me about this toy.”

“Well, I uh…” you search for your words. “It’s one of the first ones I ever bought-”

“It’s small,” Hyuck notes, which is kind of funny considering it’s Mark sized. “Can I use it on you?”

“You want to fuck me with the toy?” You blink at your long term friend and roommate.

“Gotta stretch you out to take something bigger.” Hyuck smirks devilishly, and your pussy throbs- he’s definitely bigger than Mark and the toy still half lodged inside of you. You can’t wait to find out how much bigger.

“You can-” you bite at your lip, “you can fuck me with it.”

“Good girl,” Hyuck praises you, and you can feel yourself practically dripping around the dildo now.

You hold your breath in anticipation while Hyuck gets settled on the foot of the bed. His warm palms smooth over your thighs, forcing you wider, and then his fingers grab the base of the toy. “Do you like it slow?”

“I think… to start off with?” You feel too hazy to be able to answer questions, and he hasn’t even started with you. “But… when you fuck me, can you go fast, please?”

“Of course, gorgeous. I can do anything you want,” he assures you, applying pressure to the toy so it begins to lodge deeper inside of you. You let out a small sigh and Hyuck looks up at you, grinning. “You’re so wet, babe, making this too fucking easy.”

“It’s not my fault-” you defend yourself, voice shaky.

“It’s mine, isn’t it?” His smile widens. “Talking dirty gets you going, huh, gorgeous?”

You nod, resting your head back against the pillows and closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of him beginning to work the toy in and out of your pussy.

“Bet Mark’s dirty talk game was weak,” Hyuck says under his breath.

You don’t have it in you to agree with him, although… he’s correct. Something tells you he knows it too, because he lets out a small chuckle.

Hyuck’s using his right hand to fuck you with the toy, and his left moves from your thigh. A moment later, his thumb is rubbing gentle circles on your clit and your toes curl from the stimulation. A gentle gasp escapes you and you can practically hear Hyuck smile.

“Feels good?” he prompts.

“So good,” you nod. You need something to hold onto, so you grab at the one piece of clothing on your body, a night shirt, which you lift up your to your abdomen, giving Hyuck more room to work.

He rubs your clit harder and you let out a whine, feeling the familiar build of tension in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Hyuck tells you, and you can feel his breath on your pussy which makes you twitch. “God, I could watch you squirm like this all night.”

“Please-”

“Please what?”

You don’t even know. All you know is listening to the squelching sound of the toy going in and out of you while his thumb rubs your clit is driving you insane.

“I want to kiss you,” you decide, realizing Hyuck’s about to make you cum and you haven’t even really gotten a taste of him.

Hyuck stops what he’s doing immediately, manuevering up the bed so he’s on top of you, one hand pressed to the pillow while he looks down at you.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he grins.

Your hands explore his shoulders and one snakes into his hair, then you’re tugging his mouth down to your own. Hyuck’s gentle with you at first, but when you go to bite on his lower lip, he groans loudly. His tongue darts out to brush against your own, and the kiss deepens.

You’re done with your toy. You want to feel him, and you reach between your bodies to remove the dildo, pulling it out and tossing it onto the floor next to the bed.

Hyuck breaks your kiss to look at the wet toy on the ground, and he lets out a small laugh, gaze returning to your own. “Why’d you do that?”

“I want you.”

“Yeah?” His hand slips between your forms, and two digits stroke the length of your pussy, making you moan. “Want me to make you cum all over my fingers?”

You nod, grabbing at the front of his shirt, tugging his mouth back to yours while he buries himself into you knuckle deep.

He strokes your walls, and the feeling is absolutely delightful, especially when he angles his hand, palm pressing to your clit while he seeks out your gspot.

His lips are hot against your own, and they don’t muffle the sound of pleasure escaping you.

Hyuck’s a bit of a gamer, but you never really realized his fingers could feel this good-

“Shit, gorgeous,” he groans, breaking the kiss to move his mouth to your throat, where he lets out deep breaths. “You’re dripping all over my hand.”

“I’m so close-” you confess, gripping his shoulders tighter while he finger fucks you even harder, chasing your release.

“You’ll be a good girl and cum for me, right?” Hyuck prompts, which makes you mewl. “Yeah, you’ve always been such a good girl, gonna be good and cum all over my fingers-”

His words make you throb, and he applies more pressure to your clit with his palm. His lips press kisses to your neck and he finds your sweetspot, making everything feel all the more intense.

You’re on the edge, and you let out a loud gasp, clenching your eyes shut in anticipation.

“Cum for me, gorgeous. Come on, I wanna feel you.”

His words make the cord in your stomach snap, and your body is flooded with the pleasure of your release. You feel it everywhere, and it makes you cry out while holding onto him tighter. His hand continues between your thighs, fingers unrelenting, palm heavy on your clit.

Hyuck works you through your orgasm until you’re gasping and pushing at his shoulders, and then he straightens a little, motions stopping while he looks down at you. “Did you enjoy that?”

You can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes a little. “You know I did.”

“Yeah, but you could still stroke my ego a little.”

“Stroke your ego?” You reach for his cock, gripping him through his sweats. “Like this?”

Hyuck lets out a low groan, thrusting forward to meet your hand. “As much as I’d love to watch you jack me off- tonight I’m here to make you feel better, and I’m not anywhere near being done with you yet.”

You’d never realized Hyuck had any self control, and you watch in shock as he gently moves your hand away.

“I’m going to eat you out now,” he tells you, slipping down the bed so he’s on his stomach between your legs. Hyuck spreads you open, gently kissing your inner thigh before looking up at you. “You good with this?”

“Uh huh,” you breathe, swallowing thickly as you prepare yourself for his tongue. “I’m still sensitive though.”

“I’ll go easy on you,” Hyuck promises, pressing a very soft kiss to your clit. “I can be gentle, contrary to popular belief.”

You can’t help but let out a giggle, but the sound is cut short when Hyuck unexpectedly buries his face between your thighs. His tongue presses into your hole and the feeling has your legs quaking as he adjusts them over his shoulders, trying to dive even deeper.

“Shit, Hyuck-” you whimper, grabbing at his hair.

He’s always been a bit of a liar- maybe you shouldn’t have believed him when he said he’d go easy on you. But… at the same time, the way his nose repeatedly bumps your clit has a fire building in your abdomen again, and you really aren’t even that mad about it.

You can feel Hyuck smile against you, and it’s such a turn on to know he’s enjoying himself while providing you with pleasure. Mark had always been somewhat rigid in your sexual interactions, much more serious than the grinning cheshire cat between your legs now.

Where Mark had been slow and tentative, Hyuck’s eager and passionate. He switches between lapping at your hole, sucking your clit, and pushing his tongue into you as deep as it can go, licking at your walls and working you up way faster than anyone else ever has in your entire life.

Then he begins to groan, and you realize he’s grinding against the bed-

Is eating you out really that sexy for him?

You feel another gush of wetness from the thought and your pussy throbs, warning you both that you’re close again. Hyuck responds by adjusting ever so slightly, lips wrapping around your clit while he pushes a hand to your entrance, slipping two fingers inside.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum-” you gasp, back arching off the bed while the cord in your stomach is pulled unbelievably tight.

Hyuck’s fingers twist in and out of your hole, and he licks at your clit in the most sloppy manner- it’s enough to have you exploding, a cry of pleasure escaping you while your core clamps down on your roommate.

He groans loudly, sinfully, and the vibration against your clit has your legs shaking around his head, orgasm pulsing deep through your entire being.

You’re practically crying at this point, and you can feel tears even while you clench your eyes shut, taking everything Hyuck’s giving you while moaning like a whore- you’ve never sounded this way, and there’s something almost addicting about the noises being torn out of you.

You know he feels it too, because Hyuck is completely unrelenting. If anything, he’s even more sloppy with the way he worships your pussy, fingers crooking up expertly-

You’re literally gushing around him, and you can feel it, can feel that your bed is going to be ruined after this. But you can’t bring yourself to care. All you can do is grab at your sheets, crying to the ceiling while your best friend makes you feel pleasure so intense that you can’t even think.

He’s fulfilled his promise about making you cry for good reasons… and he hasn’t even taken his cock out yet.

You’ve never been this needy in your entire life, and when he pulls away from your core, allowing you to catch your breath, you peak out at him from under wet lashes.

“You’re literally perfect,” he tells you, voice deep. His pupils are completely blown now and he’s breathing as heavily as you are.

You watch him bring glistening fingers up to his lips, slowly sucking them clean and moaning loudly at the taste of you before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Fuck, and you’re already crying-” Hyuck sits up, leaning over you and reaching out to brush some of your tears away. “God, you’re fucking beautiful.”

“Hyuck-” you whimper, shocked that you’re choking up.

Your body is still being flooded with emotion and sensations. Your nipples are hard under your shirt and the fabric is becoming uncomfortable, making you more sensitive-

“Going to let me take care of you now, right, gorgeous?” he asks, pinching at your chin and leaning in to kiss you softly.

“Please-” You grab at your shirt and Hyuck follows through by helping you take it off.

You’re now fully revealed to him, and your best friend sits back to appreciate you, letting out a deep breath.

“Mark’s so fucking stupid for letting you go,” Hyuck says.

His words are bitter sweet, and in your overstimulated state, you find your lower lip wobbling as you hold back a choked sob.

“Shh,” Hyuck whispers, reaching out to cup your cheek. “It’s better to be with someone who knows your worth, like I do. I’d never fucking treat you the way he did- I promise.”

The look on his face is so intense, and you know he’s telling you the truth.

Your body relaxes a little- Hyuck really is such a good guy, and what he’s doing for you helps more than he’ll probably ever know. He’s making you feel sexy again, making you feel needed and wanted and maybe even loved.

“Besides,” Hyuck clears his throat, taking off his own shirt, “I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll forget all about that asshole.”

You can’t help but laugh sadly, wiping at your own face to get rid of the last tears while you watch Hyuck move to work on his sweats.

When he pushes the waistband down, revealing his cock, you think you might actually faint.

You’ve always thought Hyuck was a pretty guy, sexy of course, but pretty too- and his cock? It’s as stupidly pretty as the rest of him.

He must be a little over seven inches, and he’s girthy too-

You can feel yourself practically drooling as you look at him, and Hyuck smirks at your reaction. “Sure you’re ready for this, gorgeous?”

“If you don’t fuck me I think I might die.”

He laughs at your words. “Then I guess I better fuck you.”

“Should we…” you bite at your lip. “Do we need condoms?”

“Babe,” Hyuck scoffs. “Babe- we’re both clean, right? And I know you’re on birth control… do you want me to wear a condom? I always kind of imagined you’d be the kind of girl who wants to be full.”

How many times has he imagined this, you wonder.

But he’s right. You want him to fill you up like no one else has.

“Come here,” you say, holding open your arms while he kicks his sweats off.

Hyuck’s hands find the pillows by your head and he slots himself between your legs, lips pressing against your own.

You thread your fingers through his soft brown hair, kissing him eagerly. You want to get lost in him, and it’s easy to do that when he begins to rut his cock against your pussy, bumping your clit and making your thighs shake around his hips.

“Just fuck me,” you groan, already feeling so unbelievably needy.

Hyuck smirks against your lips, pulling away to look down at you with mischief in his eyes. “You’re so fucking hot it’s insane.”

“Then why aren’t you inside me yet?”

He moans a little, dipping his head to look between your bodies while he reaches for the base of his cock, lining himself up with your hole. “If it hurts, I’ll stop.”

You’re about to scoff and tell him he’s not that big when he pushes his head into your entrance and a gasp leaves your lips. The stretch is very real, and you wrap your arms tighter around his shoulders, closing your eyes and focusing on getting your body to relax.

You can practically feel your pussy struggling to make room for him, and even though you’re as wet as a fucking slip and slide, it’s still a little difficult for him to push in inch after inch-

“Fuck,” you whimper, and Hyuck rewards you by burying his face in your throat, peppering your skin in kisses. The soft feeling of his lips is enough to distract you from the intrusion opening up your pussy, and soon his hips are flush against your own, making you both release groans of pleasure.

“You ready for this?” Hyuck asks.

“God, yes-”

He reaches for your hand, pressing it to the pillow and threading your fingers. Then he kisses you softly-

When he begins to rut into you, it’s anything but soft.

Hyuck’s motions are calculated and rough, the tip of his cock hitting a spot deep inside of you that has you squeezing his hand. You’d be cussing if it weren’t for his hot lips against your own, lips that have gotten increasingly demanding, his tongue stroking yours while you gasp.

It feels amazing- like, truly. You’ve never been fucked like this, and he’s only just started.

He stops kissing you, breathing heavily while he fucks you even harder. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“You’re literally balls deep inside of me,” you nearly laugh. “You can ask me anything.”

“I’m just,” Hyuck groans, squeezing your hand. “Did you ever think about me when you were fucking Mark?”

Your pussy clenches at the question, from shock or hornyness, you’re not sure.

“I-”

“You did, didn’t you?” Hyuck grins. “Don’t think I didn’t just feel you get super fucking tight around me- God, you are dirty like me, aren’t you, gorgeous? I thought… thought that when you started dating soft boy Mark, maybe you were more vanilla, but that’s not you, is it?”

“No-”

“You like to get fucked, properly, don’t you, babe?” Hyuck continues.

“Fuck, yes-”

“And Mark didn’t know how to do that for you, did he? Mark didn’t know how to make you wet like this, didn’t know how to make you cry or scream or beg-”

You can’t bring yourself to verbally slander Mark while Hyuck’s fucking you like a wild man, so instead you just shake your head. Your confirmation makes Hyuck grin, and he fucks you even harder, the whole bed rocking while the sound of skin on skin fills the room.

“You know what? Enough about Mark. Forget him. You don’t need him anymore.” Hyuck’s mouth is hot on your neck and his words make you shiver as he moves to suck your earlobe. “You only need me. You only need me, I promise.”

Hyuck lets go of your hand and you’re about to argue with him about it when he shoves his fingers between your bodies, rubbing at your clit while he fucks you.

“Hyuck!” you whimper, writhing beneath him.

“That’s it gorgeous. I wanna ruin you for anyone else. After this, no one’s going to make you cum like I can.” He’s groaning now, voice all breathy and super sexy- “If I make you cum three times the first time I fuck you, that means you’re mine right?”

You moan loudly at the idea, grabbing his shoulders while he works you closer and closer to yet another orgasm that you have no doubt will be as mind blowing as the first two.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Hyuck says, voice gruffer now. “Fuck, gorgeous, I want you so badly- just say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp when he applies more pressure to your clit.

“That’s my girl,” Hyuck smiles against your neck. “You’ll let me mark you right? Let me suck some pretty bruises into your skin so every time you look in the mirror you know your roommate fucks you right-”

His tongue darts out, licking a stripe of your throat before his lips press to your sweet spot. He suctions his mouth onto you, teeth grazing your skin and causing you to cry out while you move your hands to tug on his hair.

Hyuck lets out a sinful groan when you pull gently on his soft brown strands, but he doesn’t let up. He’s entirely focused on you and your pleasure, cock continuing to rearrange your insides while his fingers abuse your nearly overstimulated clit-

“I’m so close-” you whimper, eyes closed as your body once again approaches the edge with startling speed.

“Yeah?” Hyuck moves away from your neck and you get the sense that he’s looking down at you. “Gonna cum on this cock and let me fill you up? Gonna let me breed you like the good girl you are? Make you so stupidly full that you’re fucking dripping?”

“Yes, fuck, Hyuck, please-” You’re on the verge of tears again, whole body thrumming with energy-

“Then cum for me. Let me fucking feel you.”

You twitch from his words, and then you’re falling over the edge, gasping and clawing at him while you’re overcome with ecstasy. You’re not sure if it’s because this is your third orgasm, or if it’s because his cock is balls deep inside of you, but this orgasm is the most intense of them all.

You’re reduced to a completely primal side of yourself, brain short circuiting while your body takes over. There are no thoughts, only the attempt to process all the pleasure that’s flowing through you like a river that’s broken through a dam.

The sounds escaping you are unlike anything that has ever come from your vocal cords, and Hyuck is also cumming, groaning loudly as he presses his lips to yours. His tongue is hot as it licks at your bottom lip, and his thrusts are erratic.

He takes his hand away from your clit in favour of finding yours again, fingers locking while he squeezes you. You can feel the passion radiating off of him, can feel that this won’t be a one time thing and you both know it.

Hyuck takes care of you through your orgasms until you’re both finished, and his motions begin to slow until he’s simply half laying on top of you, his kisses much more gentle as you gasp into each others mouths.

His hips are flush against your own, keeping his cum inside of you while you make out. His body is warm and it almost feels like a security blanket draped across your own. Hyuck’s fingers are still tangled with yours, and it feels nice just to be holding someone’s hand again.

“Fuck, gorgeous,” Hyuck groans, pulling away from your lips, “if we keep kissing I might have to fuck you again, and I don’t think you could take another orgasm.”

“Not tonight,” you agree, blinking up at your roommate.

It’s like you’re seeing him in a new light, and you assess the soft details of his features. He really is a beautiful man.

“And we ruined your bed,” Hyuck says with a grin. “You were squirting earlier and your sheets are too wet to sleep in, so I guess that means you’re coming to my room tonight.”

“You want me to sleep with you?” you nearly laugh.

“I’d honestly be offended if you didn’t.” He lets go of your hand, pushing himself off of you. “I didn’t get to touch your tits at all, and I’d like to have something to grab onto when we sleep.”

“God, you’re such a menace,” you giggle, pushing at his chest.

“You love it,” Hyuck insists, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Come on, we should shower.”

“So we’re showering together now too? Weren’t you the guy who said Mark was being clingy by wanting to see me every day when we started dating?”

“It’s clingy when Mark does it,” Hyuck notes. “When I do it, it’s endearing and charming and sexy-”

“Sure it is,” you say sarcastically, shaking your head at him.

“What happened to my good girl?” Hyuck teases. “If you keep talking back, I might be tempted to ruin you in the shower.”

Now that you’re thinking about it, that doesn’t actually sound like the worst thing in the world.

“Fine, let’s go,” you concede, letting out a sigh.

There’s so much you could say about what has just taken place, but one thing you can state with confidence is that you do feel better. Hyuck had made you forget about Mark, if only for a short while before he started shit talking his friend- but, his words of slander hadn’t actually made you mad or sad or upset- they’d actually kind of had the opposite effect.

Life will go on after Mark Lee, and Hyuck’s made you realize that.

In fact, maybe your life after Mark will go on with Hyuck.

Maybe it was always meant to be this way.

You’re too tired to think about these big ideas in detail tonight, not after everything that’s just happened. Instead, you allow yourself to live in the moment, allow your roommate to take care of you the way he always has.

For now, this is more than enough.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I'm back in my Hyuck feels again

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🔮 preview. “So perfect,” Hyuck tells you, reaching his hands up to cup your breasts. Before he can dive in, however, you press the ice pack to his face again and he winces below you. A scowl forms, and he glares into your eyes. “Maybe I don’t like it when you take care of me.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, thigh riding, multiple reader orgasms, dirty talk, praise, claim kink, boob worship, big dick Hyuck, sex in on the living room couch, physical altercation between new boy and ex, overstim, holding off an orgasm, cumming together, light spanking, etc… I pet names: (hers) gorgeous, babe .

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.9k I teaser wc. 220

🌙 staring. Haechan x afab!reader

bonus

“Dude,” Jeno sighs, staring at the man sitting on his couch. “You did not-”

“Except that I did,” Hyuck smirks. “You should be happy for me.”

“Is that what you’re going to say to Mark after you tell him you fucked his ex?” Renjun asks, narrowing his eyes at their naughtiest friend.

“Actually,” Hyuck sighs, leaning back against the couch, “I think we shouldn’t tell Mark, not yet at least.”

“So now you’re making us all culpable in your bullshit,” Renjun groans loudly, rolling his eyes.

Hyuck gaze shifts from the angry aries to Jaemin, who’s yet to say anything since Hyuck’s big reveal. “You’re cool with this, aren’t you?”

“I mean…” Jaemin cocks his head to the side, “you have wanted to be with her for years-”

“See, Jaemin gets it!” Hyuck grins, eyes turning to his part time gym buddy next. “And Jeno? You understand where I’m coming from, don’t you?”

“Mark is not going to be happy about this,” Jeno frowns.

“And I wasn’t happy when he started dating my roommate crush,” Hyuck states, “or when he broke up with her unexpectedly.”

“Don’t lie,” Renjun scoffs, “we all know you probably celebrated when they ended things.”

“Only a little,” Hyuck confesses, grinning again. “Okay but for real,” his expression turns serious, “guys, I think I love her.”

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peachesofteal · 1 year ago

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Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader - reader POV

You have a problem.

You miss your neighbor.

He's been gone for two and a half weeks, and every day you catch yourself holding your breath, listening for him next door. Watching for the light on his balcony, checking your phone relentlessly.

You've been worrying, anxiety turning into a gnawing ache beneath your ribs, wondering about how he is, what he's doing, if he's okay. If he's safe.

He'll text you. Right? When he's home? He said he would, didn't he? You're not sure. Not sure of anything when it comes to him, confusing thoughts and feelings turning over and over in your head every second, twisted up and tangled in your heart.

You've friend zoned yourself, you know it. Relying on him too much, asking him for help all the time, inviting him for dinners but too afraid to try to take the next step. And didn't you do it to yourself anyway? Didn't you ask him to babysit for you, so you could go out on a date with some asshole that didn't even show? He's your friend. He's your neighbor.

Yeah but he asked you to go for dinner, the night you were sick. And he rushed to you and Emma when that creep was following you in the park. Doesn't that mean something?

He asked you AND Emmaline to dinner, not like on a romantic date. And he did the same thing anyone would do, if they thought their friend was in trouble, didn't he?

He doesn't act like your neighbor. He acts more like... a husband, than anything else.

Not knowing is confusing, and on top of your grief, it makes you feel a little more vulnerable than you care to admit, but you can't deny your own truth. You like him. Even Emmaline likes him, little face smiling up at him every chance she gets, staring at him like he's the whole world. Maybe he is. You can't help but swoon over the way she interacts with him, how she settles so easily with him, how she coos and babbles at him like she's having a whole conversation with him. When he walks into a room, she lights up like the sun, happy baby giggles and everything, the sweet sounds of her glee at her favorite person's face like music to your ears. So unfair. You suffered for sixteen hours trying to give birth to her, alone... and he comes around for a few months and all the sudden you've been replaced.

You can't blame her too much, you guess. You get it. He's... something else. Something you're not sure you understand. Something you don't know you're ready for.

Still, you think he might feel the same way.

You shake your head. Stop. You're getting so far ahead of yourself.

Which is why you've convinced yourself that when he's home, the next time you see him, you're just going to buck up and do it. You're going to tell him how you feel. No matter how hard it is.

You've even practiced what you'll say. Staring at yourself in the mirror nervously, reciting different ways to say 'hey Simon I really like you and was wondering if you want to go out on a date even though I have a baby and am basically a widow.'

Emmaline cries, announcing that she's awake, and you're so quick to soothe her, holding her to your chest, whispering a good morning to her, rubbing her back and tummy as you always do. You think some people might say you're spoiling her, that you're not letting her cry long enough, that you're teaching her bad habits or manners but you can't help it. Her father died before she was even born. You're the only thing she has in this world, the only person that gives her love, that makes her feel safe-

or at least, you used to be.

You hear your neighbor in his flat hours and hours later. Well past sunset, Emmaline already sleeping in her crib, your dishes already done, little chores taken care of, and you're sitting on the couch with a glass of wine, watching a movie at a low hum.

Was that- is he?

You sit straight up, straining to listen. It takes a second, but eventually, you recognize the tell tale sound of an interior door closing, and then the balcony glows with the light from the inside.

He's home. You take a large gulp of wine, and a deep breath. Just go over there, and tell him how you feel.

Your fingers curl into a fist, hesitantly knocking at his door, holding your breath. When there's no response, you try again, a little louder, and then feel immense relief when the lock clicks.

Until it opens.

Simon doesn't look like himself. He looks lost. Haunted. There's remnant of black grease around his eyes and instead of being maskless or wearing the usual cloth one, his head is mostly covered by a balaclava bearing a skull, and his eyes are blank. Dark. Something is off.

"Hi." You squeak, and cringe inwardly, stomach flipping like you're on a carnival ride. You raise the two bottles of beer that you brought over with a meek smile, gesturing to them and the monitor. "Thought we could um... try this again?"

"No." His refusal is flat, rough, and you blink in surprise. No?

"Oh- I uh... just thought-"

"It's not a good time." He cuts you off, and then before you can even get another word out, the front door closes in your face, leaving you outside in the hall, bewildered. Hurt.

Guess he doesn't like you after all.

#lmao I'm sorry #peaches writes #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #light on

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huhmiya · 2 months ago

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INNOCENT GIRL | matt sturniolo

pairing: bf!matt x f!reader

summary: you have always been an innocent girl to everyone, but matt has noticed your attitude and actions, which led him to punishing you.

warning: smut, dom!matt, swearing, p in v, pet names (slut, baby, love, darling, bad girl, bitch), unprotected sex, hair pulling, use of y/n, crying, nipple playing, dirty talking, blow job, rough sex, bratty y/n.

a/n: not my photos, on pinterest. agh, a bit rushed and late to say but I’m so happy that the sturniolo triplets are at 7M

WORDS: 2.6k

huhmiya on wattpad

you - pink | matt - blue

Matt adored you deeply and always made sure you felt that. He appreciated your gentle nature and how much of a kind hearted person you were.

He was always tender with you, knowing you were sensitive to touch, making sure to handle you with care.

Though there were times when he let his anger get the best of him and was harsh with you, he always regretted it and made amends by doing whatever you wished since he made you feel horrible about yourself.

Recently, he noticed you becoming more distant and acting rudely towards others. He reached a breaking point and decided to give you space.

Leaving you alone in his room, he went to record a YouTube video with his brothers in the kitchen, hoping that some time by yourself would help you return to your usual self.

While you scrolled through your phone, you could faintly hear Matt and his brothers laughing, sparking your curiosity. However, you chose to block out the noise by putting on headphones, not wanting to engage with anyone at that moment for reasons unknown.

You were listening to your shuffle mix but it seemed like it passed quickly due to Matt entered the room which meant he finished recording. You didn't even bother to say hi, but he knew you noticed him.

He huffed and left you to it, grabbing his sweatpants to change. He didn't mind if you were looking or not, as you had seen him like this before.

You didn't dare glance at him, and Matt had a feeling you wouldn't. He stayed silent after changing, then left the room for the bathroom, probably to brush his teeth and take care of business as it was already 11 pm.

"Hey y/n, my brothers and I are going to watch a movie in the lounge... would you like to join?" he asked from the door frame, still brushing his teeth.

You continued scrolling on your phone but gave a thumbs down in response. He rolled his eyes, noticing you were still being dismissive.

After a minute or two of brushing his teeth, he finished and frowned at you, but you hadn't seen his reaction.

“Alright, I'm leaving you here," he wanted to stay with you because he cared about you, but he couldn't handle your attitude and guessed you didn't want to see him.

He decided to leave you be, closing the door behind him. As you took off your headphones, you could faintly hear his footsteps moving away.

You were aware that you were being difficult, but you couldn't help it. Feeling tired and unable to sleep, you found yourself giving everyone the same negative energy.

Before long, Matt returned unexpectedly. You met his gaze with surprise, but remained silent.

"Nick mentioned you might be on, so I brought some chocolate from the cupboard," he said, placing the chocolate next to you and handing you a hot water bottle.

Although you were confused because you weren't expecting him and you weren’t on your period, you appreciated the gesture. You smiled faintly, but remained silent.

"You know what? I want you to say thank you. I'm not going to treat you like a princess when you're behaving like a brat," he snapped, clearly upset by your actions.

You raised an eyebrow, meeting his intense blue eyes as he stood with his arms crossed firmly.

"Well then, thank you," you finally spoke, your voice tinged with sarcasm from lack of use.

He wasn't convinced by your words and struggled to remain calm. "Y/n, baby, if you give me that fucking attitude again, I won't hesitate to make you regret it."

You laughed, aware of your bratty behavior but unconcerned, which only seemed to infuriate Matt more. He watched as you put your headphones back on.

Suddenly, he slammed his bedroom door shut, startling you into thinking he had left. Instead, he approached you, swiftly removing your headphones and snatching your phone before tossing it away, careful not to damage it though.

"Matt, what-" you started to speak, but he hushed you, clearly angry. You weren't going to listen and were about to speak, which led him to harshly pull your hair to get your attention.

"Shut up. What you're going to do is suck my fucking cock until I tell you to stop. I don't care if your throat gets bruised, I'll appreciate the silence," he said in a forceful tone, making sure his brothers wouldn't hear. He tugged your hair before stepping back to expose himself by lowering his sweatpants.

Without saying a word, he intended for you to perform the act, but he sought permission through his eyes. If you truly didn't want to, he would stop. He understood that you were more reserved, so this forceful approach likely left you feeling vulnerable and speechless.

After locking eyes with you, he received a nod, confirming your consent. Without hesitation, he stroked himself to get harder than he guided himself into your mouth as you sat up slightly.

“Want me to stop, then say so." He didn't appreciate your behavior and wouldn't have spoken like this, but he had too since he felt a bit concerned because you weren't accustomed to roughness.

He proceeded to guide you to perform oral sex on him, occasionally causing you to gag.

"If you hadn't been acting like a bitch today, I would have given you whatever you desired. But you had to be a bad girl, didn't you?" he remarked, with a moan escaping him as he felt the warmth of your mouth around his shaft, making him bite his lip to stifle his own sounds of pleasure, mindful of his brothers in the house.

He encouraged you to increase the pace without hesitation, locking eyes with you as he twitched with pleasure, particularly around his erect member.

Sensing his impending climax, you intensified your efforts. You were surprised by how quickly he was reaching the peak, realizing that at this moment, he wasn't as gentle in bed as he had portrayed himself to be.

"If I wanted to, I could bruise your throat, but since I'm feeling generous, I won't. But damn, I really want to," Matt says in a low voice. He makes you take it all which made your eyes watering by the gag you did.

Your nose brushing against his skin as you comply, but soon he ejaculates without warning which makes tears roll down your cheek but not on purpose.

He makes you swallow it, unconcerned about his semen dripping down your chin. He bites his lip, trying not to moan too loudly because of his brothers.

Releasing your hair, he allows you to pull away after you've swallowed, your eyes meeting his. "Matt," you whisper, but he just smirks, wipes the cum off your chin, and makes you suck his thumb.

"You did a good job, darling," he winks before standing up, grabbing a tissue to clean himself before getting dressed.

Your eyes follow his movements as you feel wet, and you know he's aware of it. He chuckles as he heads towards the door.

"I don't reward naughty girls. Maybe if you change your attitude, you might get lucky," he says before closing the door behind him as he goes to join his brothers with the film.

"Matt?!" You called out, speaking quietly instead of shouting, hoping he would hear you. However, he ignored you and sat down with his brothers. You groaned softly and stayed silent.

You decided not to approach him since he was with his brothers. Instead, you lay on his bed, feeling a need for him but trying to ignore it.

You were aware that touching yourself would only intensify your desire for him, as your fingers were not like his. So, you simply chewed on your lips while returning to your phone.

You were still turned on, your lips in a slight pout after biting your lips. You could still feel how wide he was around your lips just moments ago.

You had texted him, but it was evident he was ignoring you. You glanced at your text before getting comfortable on his bed.

You let out a slight groan before sending Matt a few more texts, noticing that he was reading them now but not replying.

Hoping for a message from him, you were interrupted by the sound of the door closing as Matt entered.

"Can't you see I'm watching a movie with my brothers? Do you always have to bother me?" he said with a smile, briefly showing his tongue between his teeth.

You looked at Matt. "But Matt, I'm sorry... I apologize for my behavior," you said, prompting him to laugh at your words as he leaned against his bedroom door for a moment.

"You apologising because you feel it, or because I won't fuck you like I usually do?" he says bluntly, meeting your gaze.

Noticing your silence and the expression in your eyes, he rolls his eyes. "Looking at me like that won't make me feel guilty," even though he finds himself looking at you with desire.

You continue to keep your eyes on him, and he sighs before locking the door and sitting down next to you. "You’ve got on my nerves today, and now you're staring at me like a slut. Screw you," he whispers with a slight smile.

"I mean I am a slut for you," you tilt your head slightly, causing him to adjust his position as he feels his sweatpants getting tighter because of you.

"Don't, y/n," he warns, eyeing you up before closing his eyes briefly and then focusing on your face.

You chuckle softly before running your hand over his chest, slowly moving closer to him as you start to kiss his neck, prompting him to move his head to make it easier for you.

You playfully nibbled on his neck, your hands moving towards his shirt while you create hickeys that he loved, but always got angry about it when he had to film a YouTube video with his brothers, as his fans would find out.

You paused, leaving hickeys which will show later and removed his shirt. Though he tried to stay mad at you for your behavior earlier in the day but your current actions were making him forget all about it.

"Are you really doing this while my brothers are in the other room?" he muttered, knowing that you riding him would make it impossible for him to stay quiet.

"You weren't complaining when I was giving you a blowjob," you teased, kissing his lips to prevent him from responding.

He kissed you back and touched your chest, even though you were wearing a shirt. You focused on his pleasure, ignoring his touch.

He knew you were usually gentle in bed, but the way you kissed him made him want to have his dick in you right then and there. He realized that you were going to be rough for once but he wasn’t gonna allow you to fuck him when he can’t punish you.

You quickly pull away to remove your shirt while Matt deftly unclasps your bra with one hand, a move he has mastered through repeated practice with you.

"Impatient?" you tease, but he silences you with a hush. "I suggest you keep quiet, you're the one in the wrong," he retorts, prompting you to roll your eyes.

"If you try to boss me around, I might just leave you like this," you retort, playfully tapping his nose before removing his sweatpants, revealing his nakedness. You are surprised to find he isn't wearing any boxers.

As you gaze at his throbbing manhood, a smirk plays on your lips. Despite his hips twitching in anticipation, you press him down with your weight.

He grows impatient, enjoying your dominance but craving to be intimate with you. Catching your gaze, he swiftly pins you down and takes charge before you can react.

"Another time, darling," he whispers with a wink, planting a kiss on your neck and fondling your breasts. He then begins to tease your nipples as he harshly bites your neck and licks it.

He pressed his hand over your mouth, stifling your moans. "Hey, stay silent, got it?" he whispered sharply.

You nodded in agreement as he released your mouth. He ceased nibbling on your neck and instead traced his tongue down to your stomach.

Goosebumps erupted on your skin as you brushed his hair away from his eyes. He planted a kiss on your stomach before pulling back.

Meeting your gaze, he proceeded to remove your shorts and underwear simultaneously. His smirk grew as he observed your reaction before kissing the top of your intimate area and withdrawing.

"I'm not going to make it easy for you. I want your apology to be sincere," he declared, firmly grasping your chin to establish eye contact. Your heart raced.

"I'm sorry, I truly am," you whispered, causing him to briefly glance down at his arousal before returning his focus to you. "Say it again," he demanded.

Before you could comply, he forcefully entered you, prompting a loud moan and an arch of your back, followed swiftly by his hand covering your mouth.

He knew you wouldn't stay silent, so he quickly grabbed his shirt and stuffed it in your mouth. Your eyes widened as he spoke. "You need to stay quiet."

Without any warning, he deeply thrust inside you, causing you to moan, though it was muffled.

Although you weren't used to his roughness, you found yourself starting to enjoy it. You whimpered and grabbed his back, scratching it in response.

He groaned, tightly closing his eyes before easing up slightly. His thrusts became faster until he reached his limit of speed.

He continued grunting, keeping it quiet as he was skilled at being dominant. He held your legs to widen them further.

He felt you tighten around him, biting his lip to stifle a loud moan. His hands gravitated to your breasts once more, his thumb stimulating your nipples more intensely.

Your breasts bounced with each thrust, the desire evident in your eyes signaling your impending climax. He intensified his thrusts, pushing a few more times before you reached the peak of pleasure.

Your loud moans were muffled by his shirt as he felt you envelop his manhood, prompting him to grip your hips tightly, guiding your movements as he continued thrusting until he reached his own climax.

Moaning with his eyes rolling back, both bodies glistened with sweat. He quickly pulled away, watching as his essence leaked out of you.

He gazed at your womanhood as you both caught your breath. Eventually, he turned to you. "Have you learned your lesson?" he inquired, to which you nodded.

He lay down beside you, picking up his phone to text his brothers that he wouldn't be joining them for the movie until he had cleaned both of you up.

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angelltheninth · 4 months ago

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Jujustu Kaisen Men when You Get Your Period

Pairing: Yuji Itadori, Ryomen Sukuna, Megumi Fushiguro, Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro, Yuta Okkotsu x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, hurt/comfort, kissing, massage, working out together, eating together, blood, periods, baths, mention of future pregnancy, cuddles

A/N: I feel like mine is close so I need comfort.

Yuji will try to keep your spirits up while you're on your period. He will be there for cuddles when ever you need them and warm you right up. Or if you don't feel like being touched too much then he each of you can be on your side of the bed or couch and watching any movie or show that makes you feel better while eating lots of snacks.

Sukuna knew your period was coming, yes he could actually smell it and was pretty excited about the whole thing. To him it was very much like you were in a prime mating and breeding period leading up to it, so he was pretty keen on satisfying you. He's not squimish about the blood at all, he doesn't think it's gross and if you do he will do his damn best to convince you otherwise.

Megumi offers to give you lots of massages that he read can help with period cramps. The last thing he wants to see is his girlfriend curled up in pain, or even crying from it. Doesn't push too much of course not, he's gentle when he needs to be and often kisses the areas he massages in his attempt to help you get through it easier and with the least pain possible.

Gojo makes sure to talk to you a lot, crack jokes, anything to take your mind off your period but also make sure that you don't push yourself too much. Usually you're the one taking care of him when he needs to take it easy, well now it's his turn. Be good and do what he says and he could perhaps give you a kiss or ten as a reward to encourage you.

Nanami always has a list of things he needs to buy before your period starts. That way you're never out of necessities and he can spend more time with his wife, especially when you need him there. Even if you don't he feels more comfortable being home with you when you're on your period in case they get really bad and you get sick or the pain becomes too much for you.

Geto puts you in a bundle of blankets so you're comfortable and don't have to worry about bleeding out anywhere he puts you down. Wants to cuddle you lots and kiss you even more, each kiss goes down just a bit more until he gets you to roll your eyes at his teasing and pull him back up for a more proper kiss on the lips. At this rate he'll only manage to work you up more than anything.

Toji looks up all the different work out routines you can do together while you're on your period. Breaking a sweat is always good when period cramps are concerned, stretching those muscles so they don't cramp up too bad. Will be there as moral support but also gets pretty handy and loose with kisses when the two of you are well into a work out session so they tend to end quite abruptly.

Yuta quickly makes you a bath and offers to help you wash up, you shouldn't ever feel gross or dirty for something that's a natural thing but if you do then he will be there to help you out. A little shy when he gets into the bath with you and has to actually get you clean. It might be easier in a shower but then he would need to get on his knees and... well he doesn't have enough self control then.

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diaryofaprettyprincess · 11 months ago

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stepdad!ghost x crybaby!girly!reader where he yells at her n it scares her cuz his voice is so deep n booming n she immediately starts crying. it all starts when he’s stressed because of a ton of paperwork he has to get done by that night and he hasn’t been able to because of different things that keep popping up. on top of that, he has to watch over you because your mom is out of town for a few weeks doing god know what.

so it’s safe to say he’s beyond stressed.

it all comes crashing down when you come skipping into his at-home office, a dvd in your hand for a movie he had promised you two would watch that day—before he was emailed a ton of paperwork.

you skip over to him, a small, “what’re you doin?” leaving your lips quietly as you peer over his shoulder.

he knows you just want attention right now, and god, does he want to give it to you.

but he can’t right now, and unfortunately for you, you don’t realize it.

he replies to your question with a gruff, “paperwork.” as he rubs his temple with his index and middle.

“oh.” your reply is short, and you look down at the dvd in hand sadly. “thought we were gonna watch a movie?”

simon tries to ignore the disappointment in your voice, because he knows he would immediately drop everything for you, but he just can’t.

“i know, love, but ‘ve got so much shit to do..what about tomorrow?” he asks, now watching u walk around to the front of his desk as you lean forward on it with your hands planted on the hardwood.

“tha’s what u said yesterday..” you pout, and simon can feel his irritability building in his blood. he doesn’t want to take any of his stress out on you, but if you push further, he’s worried he might.

“i know, princess. ‘m sorry, okay? i promise we will do it tomorrow.” he is now shuffling through his work.

you hate when he isn’t paying attention to you.

your eyes burn as you begin to feel tears sprout to them.

“si..” you squeak, trying to express that you feel lonely—what, with your mom being out all of the time. however, simon seemingly ignores you, too lost in his work. trying to get his attention, you call him what you know will achieve that. “daddy, can u take a break? please?” you beg, fidgeting with the dvd case. ghost’s heart squeezes in his chest at the nickname.

he mentally shakes his head. he has to focus.

“y/n, i already gave you my answer.” he speaks, his voice edging on pure annoyance.

“b-but you promised me! you always have somethin’ more important than me!” you’re fully crying now, and simon genuinely feels bad, but he just has so much to do.

he sighs, standing up to grab a pen from the coffee table. you follow behind him, crying.

“why’re you ignorin me?” you sob, and ghost rolls his eyes. he knows if he doesn’t look at you he won’t give in.

“y/n, stop.” he spits, walking back to his desk and hunching over to sign something.

you continue blubbering nonsense until— “enough! fuckin’ christ!”

his eyes burn into yours until he sees your utter hurt and he’s immediately back-tracking.

“angel..” he says softly right before you run off, and he begins to follow until you slam your bedroom door in his face. “fuck.” he sighs, exhausted.

he knows he scared you. he’s never yelled at you like that before.

he can hear your muffled, hiccuping cries, and he rests his forehead against your door—eyes shut tightly.

he tries your door handle but it’s locked. he knows you need time to decompress right now, so he reluctantly goes back to work for another hour before checking on you.

“princess?” he knocks on your door, and he can hear the movie you two were supposed to watch playing on the tv in your room. “let me in, baby.”

he can hear the sound of you getting off of your bed, then the clicking of the door unlocking. you run immediately back to your pink bed, whimpering like a puppy out of fright.

simon sighs for what seems like the 20th time that day, sitting down on your mattress. his large hand rubbing over the expanse of your back slowly.

“sweet’art, lookat me,” he speaks softly. “didn’t mean ta scare you..’m sorry. jus’ was stressed, baby.”

you turn your head, and he can see the reddening of your puffy eyes from crying so much.

“awh, angel,” he kisses the top of your head, brushing the hair away from your face. “can you forgive me?”

his voice is so soft and gentle you want to cry some more.

you nod, chewing on your lower lip. simon’s jaw ticks as he traces his thumb over the slope of your nose and down to the cupids bow of your soft lips. “sweetest girl ever, y’know that?” he asks, and his heart flutters when you giggle.

he leans forward and gently places a small kiss on your lips.

JANDKD IDK IF I LIKE THIS BUT WHATEVER

#simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader #stepcest #dark!simonriley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x innocent!reader #simon riley x crybaby!reader #simon riley #cod #stepdad!ghost #stepdad!simonriley #stepdad!simonghostriley #stepdad!ghost x reader #crybaby!reader

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dycefic · 2 years ago

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Tom Saves The World

Everyone knows that it’s super-heroes who save the world. They fight the aliens, or the monsters, or the bad guys. And mostly, that’s true.

But not always.

I’m a psychic. The thing is, my range isn’t that great. I don’t have much detail more than about 36 hours out, 48 for something really big. I’d had a nebulous sort of bad feeling for about a week before this one finally hit, and it was big. Something very tough and very supernatural was going to come up out of the harbor of Nova Roma, and the death-toll was going to be high. Crazy high.

I did all I could. I told the Unaligned Supers Job Placement Agency, and they put the word out to everyone on both sides of the Line. The Henchman’s Union don’t like natural disasters any more than anyone else, and they’re often quite helpful against eldritch horrors and stuff like that. Things that don’t hire henchmen and ruin the property values.

The trouble was, nobody big was around. The only really big team of heavy hitters on the West Coast were away dealing with some sort of doomsday cult - I never was clear on what that was about - and Guarde and Dog Fox were out of touch and even Mx Frantique was out of town at someone’s wedding. It was going to happen in less than two days and we couldn’t find anyone to help and I was seriously considering calling in some kind of bomb threat or something to get people away from the docks, at least.

And then, about eighteen hours out, it just… went away.

Which never, ever happens.

My powers might be short range, but they’re reliable. I don’t get stuff wrong, and I hadn’t been able to find any way to prevent what was going to happen, or even been able to identify anyone who could. But someone did. Someone had done something to stop the threat, something that happened literally while I was opening my car door. When I reached for the handle, thousands of people were going to die. By the time the door was open, there was no threat at all.

At first I thought it must have been a ranged thing. Like, whatever I’d been seeing (all those teeth, I saw them in nightmares for months after) had been distracted by something tasty on its way here and gotten off track, that it’d come up somewhere up or down the coast. My range isn’t that big, either. Anything outside about thirty miles might as well be on Mars for all I know about it. So we kept a watch out, and warned the chapters of the Union and the Agency in other cities.

But nothing happened. Nothing at all. I couldn’t explain it, and I was really unpopular for a while. Supers do NOT like people who cry wolf. There’s enough freaky shit we have to deal with without someone panicking everyone with a dire prophecy that fizzles out.

Thank all the gods that Tunny showed up. Nobody’s really sure what Tunny actually is - sentient fish creature, some kind of really mutated human, an alien, or what. She changes her story a lot. But she’s pretty friendly, especially for a twenty-foot-long horror-movie-mermaid-thing with four arms, so when she came into harbor to pick up some supplies a guy from the Agency went out to tell her what I’d seen. I’d gotten a wharf and dock number, so she went down to check.

I don’t think anyone had ever seen Tunny scared before. Her English wasn’t good enough to really explain what she’d found hibernating down there, but it was something very old and very powerful and very dangerous, and if it’d been woken up my vision would just have been the start of the crisis.

She rounded up a bunch of whales to help her move it, once she was sure it hadn’t been agitated and wasn’t likely to rouse if moved carefully. They towed it out before dawn, not wanting to scare the civilians, and when I saw the footage from the helicopter the Union sent up, when I saw how big the swell was, how many whales were pulling, I swear I nearly crapped myself. No wonder I’d been getting hints a week in advance. Somehow we dumbass humans had built a whole fucking city almost on top of some kind of Ancient Old… THING, and eroded the sea-bottom until it was exposed, and if someone hadn’t done whatever it was we’d all have been dead long before Tunny arrived. And not just all as in ‘all of Nova Roma’, it could have taken out half of the continent... or all of it.

It took me years to find out what happened. YEARS. It turned into a kind of hobby, tracking everything that might possibly have come into contact with Wharf 38 on that particular day.

And what I found, eventually, was a city employee named Thomas Briggs.

I’d found out early on that 38 wasn’t in good repair. Not that bad, but not great. It was old, things were getting a bit saggy in a few places, but there’d been no sign that anything was likely to fall off on the day. It had sat there for a couple of years after the crisis that never happened,, doing its job without problems then been rebuilt without any drama at all.

Entirely, completely, and totally because of Thomas Briggs.

The story, when I finally pieced it together, went like this.

There’d been some project or other to build some sort of high-budget science project over on the other side of the harbor, hanging it off’ve Pier 8, the furthest out on that side. Something about tracking sea-life or ships or something. My conversational English is near perfect, I’ve been here for years, but I don’t speak science nerd in ANY language. It’d all been approved, some university was covering most of the cost, it was all gonna be fine. And it was gonna be over on 8 because that side of the harbor is the shallow end. It’s where the sailboats go. All the big stuff that would block visual sensors and deafen the thing with engine noise was over in the thirties, in the real deep water.

They were almost ready to install the thing when a bunch of rich dudes suddenly got their panties in a bunch over having a big sciency tower thing ruining the view from their yachts, and tried to get it moved.

To, and I’m sure you guessed this, Wharf 38.

Which was completely insane. It wouldn’t be able to do its job over there, it’d be way more in the way, and (although they couldn’t have known it) the installation would definitely have woken up the Thing sleeping by the wharf and we all would have died. But rich dudes with yachts don’t care about that stuff. They’d bitched out and bribed up their friends on the city council, and those friends had done their thing, and the scientists had been left in the dark, and it’d almost gone through. They’d figured to install it right away, so that when the science guys found out it’d be too late and they’d either have to pay a lot to move it or just use it where it was.

Enter Thomas Briggs.

Mr Briggs, Tom to his friends, didn’t give a crap about the yachts or the science. He was a senior money guy for the commercial wharfs, the one who figured out things like how much money they’d take in in a quarter, and what the repair budget should be, stuff like that. He found out about this thing two days before the disaster would have happened, and sat down and did the math.

Then he sent out an email to the guys trying to push this through, and he ripped into them like they’d threatened to knife his mother. I got my hands on that email, and I didn’t understand a lot of it any more than the council guys would have. It was ALL numbers. But at the top he wrote it out in plain English. Pier 8 was new, and rated to handle the weight of the thingy. Wharf 38 was going to be scrapped in a few years, and it was NOT rated for that kind of structure. Pier 8 had plenty of room around it. Wharf 38 was already a tight fit for the big commercial ships, and adding a structure sticking out on one side would block off at least half of the wharf to those ships completely.

Bottom line, putting the thing on Wharf 38 would cost the city hundreds of thousands of dollars more per year than putting it on 8, AND the city would have to eat the cost if 38 collapsed under it which it could easily do, AND the city would have to pay to move it in a couple of years anyway when 38 was due to be rebuilt.

And he cc-ed every important person he had an email address for, including the mayor, the anti-corruption people, and several reporters.

He must have sent that email right when I was opening my car door.

The whole plan collapsed right there, and some people got fired. There was no news story because the whole plan got killed before the reporters even got to the right office. The installation was started on Wharf 8 a few weeks later and I never connected it to a commercial wharf on the other side of the harbor.

One email, and a man who I never could have located in time, a man who had no powers at all, a man who was just conscientiously doing his job looking after the city’s money saved the city, and the continent, and maybe even the world.

Who could have predicted that? Not me, that’s for damn sure.

I can’t deny that I went home and got drunk off my ass that night. Just thinking about how close that had been made my hands shake. One man. One honest man who’d done the math.

I put the word out, once the hangover wore off. What had happened. That Thomas Briggs was the reason we were all alive and everyone better make his life real nice from now on, because he’d done what none of us could do and nobody but the supers would ever even know it.

He’s got a lot of luck coming to him, I can tell you. We don’t forget debts like that.

And I knew that’d freak him out, because honest men don’t like it when people start doing them a lot of favors for no apparent reason, so I tracked him down at the little bar where he likes to have a quiet beer on Friday nights before he goes home. Hell, I was the one who’d gone through it all, back then. I should get to tell him.

I sat down beside him at the bar and looked at him. I saw a thin, small, balding man who looked like he worried too much and didn’t get enough sleep, with lines around his eyes. Yeah, he looked like a man who’d do the math. “Thomas Briggs?”

He blinked at me through his glasses. “Yes? Do I know you?”

“No, you don’t. My name’s Barkhado Omar, and I’ve been looking for you for a long time.” I offered him my hand and he shook it, still looking confused. Which was fair, ‘cause I doubt a lot of seven foot tall Somali women came up to him in bars even when he was young. He’s got to be close to retirement now.

He frowned. “Looking for me? Why?”

I smiled at him. “Tom, let me buy you a drink and tell you about the day you saved the world.”

It’s usually us who save the city, or the world. We have all the intel, all the advantages, all the powers.

But sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it’s someone like Tom Briggs, doing the right thing at the right time and never knowing that he changed the course of history.

Wild, huh?

This story is a direct result of me and my ex chatting about how different the entire Marvel Universe would have been if Jean’s first ‘resurrection’ - being found in a life pod under a wharf, IIRC - had happened at like... any other time. Earlier. Later. It would have changed SO MUCH.

And we speculated about how it could happen, how someone just puttering around in middle management might have unknowingly saved countless lives, prevented Madelyne’s corruption, the legacy virus, all of it, just by postponing that particular set of repairs a bit longer.... and I couldn’t resist writing a version of the story in which Tom does, in fact, save the world.

#short fiction #dyce's supers universe #comics inspired #sometimes something just goes right #horseshoe repair

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