#personally I just don’t see it going away

[gotta-winwin]

nana tour seungcheol x reader

a/n: this was a request asking for seungcheol during nana tour - it deviates slightly but i hope it'll still satisfy the itch! we love ourselves a loyal man who knows what's up.

(1)

You supposed Seungcheol not being able to follow his group mates to Italy was a blessing in disguise. Of course, you knew how disappointed he was, watching as he bid farewell to them as they boarded the bus, waving goodbye with a melancholic look on his face. 

“I’m sorry you can’t go.” You mumbled against his shoulder as you leaned against him, looping your arms around his waist, careful not to knock against the crutches on either side of him. “Italy sounds fun.”

Seungcheol had always been the sacrificing type. “It’s okay.” He assured you, pressing his lips against the top of your head as he spoke. “It means I get to spend two weeks concentrated solely on you.” 

(2)

You could tell Seungcheol was taking full advantage of his two week break, trying to do anything and everything he couldn’t with his busy schedule. Lounging on the bed as you watched him game, you couldn’t help but snap a few photos to commemorate the moment. It was rare to see Seungcheol this relaxed, with nowhere to be and nothing pressing to do. He was purely just Seungcheol, your gentle giant of a lover and protector of your heart. 

(3)

Seungcheol makes it his own personal mission to complete your checklist of places you’ve never been with your boyfriend. It doesn’t matter if the two of you will be recognized in public, he’ll rent the damn museum if he has to. The two of you spend the two weeks doing every cringey couple activity Seoul has to offer, as he tries to make up for all the times he’s had to choose work over you.

(4)

You find it hilarious when Na PD calls you instead of Seungcheol for one of his quiz games, quietly shushing the boys on the other line as you flip the camera, Seungcheol asleep with his arms draped over your stomach. He’s snoring away without a care in the world as his members laugh through the screen. You answer whatever silly question they had been given to guess, thanking Na PD for bringing the boys on their first real vacation since debut. 

(5)

You’ve always said that your boyfriend also had a boyfriend. Since you had ever known him, Seungcheol and Jeonghan had always come as a pair. One could not exist or function without the other, this being evident as you would often walk into Seungcheol facetiming his other other half. Jeonghan had also cheekily given you the job of sending him what he deemed as a ‘Cheol selfie’ per day, claiming that it wasn’t fair you get him all to yourself and that he deserves compensation. 

(6)

The night before his members were due to return to Korea, Seungcheol had pulled you aside, distracting you from your book as the two of you laid in bed, the sky outside already a dark shade of blue. 

“You know I love you, right?” He whispered, snaking his arms around your waist like second nature. 

Of course you knew. He never once gave you even a moment to forget. 

“You know I love you more than anything, right?” Seungcheol nosed against your stomach, his face pressed against the bare skin of your waist. “And that I’d quit this job in a heartbeat if you ever asked.”

He knew you’d never ask that of him though. “I started loving you knowing that your job and its odd hours came with you.” You reminded him. “I know what I signed up for.”

“These past two weeks made me realize I want more.” He mumbled. “I don’t want to never be home when we start a family.” 

Your lips curled into a smile, looping your fingers through his hair. “You’ve thought of that?”

Seungcheol nodded against you, tugging you closer. The vows you had made each other, even silently, echoed soundlessly around the two of you. 

Seungcheol would choose you over anything in the world. 

[lizardho]

Being at BYU after my mission was weird. Like. Bad weird. Everybody was still acting like missionaries but they had nobody to teach so it all turned into the holier-than-thou bs that missions always degenerate into over time. Just the forced establishment of some weird social hierarchy where value is based on how devout you are, with people digging and scratching and clawing their way around humanity in order to become even more devout.

And this bullshit was actively killing me. The attempts to stay Good Enough were scraping the remnants of my humanity out of my husk like a spoon scraping the last bits of watermelon from a rind - I was doing what I had always done, be Mormon, do what Mormons do, be as good a Mormon as I could be, only it was breaking me. Instead of healing me, making me whole, taking away my burdens, it was pulling the life out of me in exchange for nothing. I was just being squeezed dry of everything I had to offer and being given back shame and isolation and rejection because I didn’t do it first, or fast enough, or with a willing enough heart, or whatever the hell they could come up with.

But despite myself, because most people smarter than me AND dumber than me would have left already, I found myself trying over and over and over again to make it work with no success.

One day, I snap. I’ve had enough. I need answers. I’ve looked everywhere and done everything I could by myself, and nothing had come of it, so I went to talk to a faculty member. A teacher at the school. He taught religion classes and his lessons were powerfully and inspiringly honest, earnest, and filled with raw humanity. I figured if I could get a straight (ha) answer from anyone, it would be that guy. He wasn’t involved in the Mormon rat race. He wasn’t playing the stupid “I’m Worthier Than You” games that were so pernicious on campus. He was being real and open and vulnerable and I needed that from someone.

So I go into his office and I lay my cards on the table. I figure if I’m gonna get helped, I need to be honest. I share with him my weird feelings about dad leaving the church on my mission. About my siblings leaving the church. About my own doubts and hurts. I tell him about how hard it is to be in limbo like this without knowing what to do or where to turn. I tell him I need answers.

And he listens. And then he starts with the usual Mormon apologetics bullshit. And I say “no” because I’m done with that. That doesn’t fly with me anymore. And he sees and hears me say no and he puts a hand on mine, makes direct eye contact, and says,

“You know, you don’t have to go to church, right?”

I, being a person who was hurting, interpreted that as “if you have questions that I can’t answer you should fuck off.” I got defensive immediately and he again listened, put his hand on mine, and said,

“Not what I meant. You can stay if you want, but I want you to know you can leave too. Take a break. Give yourself time to heal. This isn’t supposed to hurt this much, and if it hurts you can take a break and come back when it feels good.”

I’m actually getting choked up just writing that out. Nobody had ever said that to me before. When I talked about my dysphoria to my parents, they said teenagers are supposed to feel like that a little bit. When I talked to people about my difficulties at church they had always told me that it was a sign that church was working. That I was doing it right. That growth was supposed to hurt, that excising the Natural Man from me was supposed to be difficult, that I was supposed to be feeling this anxious and sad and scared. I had never ever ever been told that pain and suffering were signs things were going wrong. I had actually explicitly been told by many many many many many many many many people that it was good, that the hurt and the heartache and the constant feeling of never being good enough and never being able to fit into my own skin or love myself in any meaningful way was desirable. That it was something they envied.

It’s not supposed to hurt. Some things can, and should. My parents were right that some body concerns were normal (although we later found out my specific concerns were more abnormal lmao, I got that tgirl swag). My family and friends were right that challenging myself with difficult assignments and ambitious goals was supposed to feel uncomfortable.

And at the same time, THIS was not supposed to hurt. I was not meant to have this gaping throbbing aching hole in my Me that never let up. It wasn’t supposed to hurt. IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HURT.

I don’t know when exactly I started crying, but I was crying the whole rest of the day. It was the first time in a while I had to actually take a Valium to clam down. It wasn’t supposed to hurt.

He also told me that if it ever stopped hurting I could always come back.

I think that was the day I really left. Others might say otherwise, I still tried to make it work for a few more months after that, but the idea that it wasn’t supposed to hurt really changed me.

If any of you are reading this - there are things that are supposed to be difficult. Things that are supposed to hurt. But if your faith or your beliefs about the world or yourself leave you feeling like you’ve been hollowed out at a minor mistake or setback, if your failures and setbacks leave you feeling raw and numb frequently, if the company you keep or the places you stay leave you feeling constantly inadequate with out hope or help, then I’ll tell you the same thing that professor told me:

You can go somewhere else. You can do something else. And you can always come back when you want.

But it’s not supposed to hurt.

[theorphicangel]

you wouldn’t expect sukuna to take care of you when you’re ill but surprisingly when you answer the doorbell you see your oversized cat — I mean your boyfriend standing there with a bag in his hand.

he tuts, looking at you up and down. runny nose, disheveled hair and tired eyes.

‘Stay away from me if you’re ill’ the tall figure states, coming into your apartment and taking off his shoes.

‘you’re the one who came over kuna.’

‘yeah only because you needed medicine.’

‘I could have gone and got it myself.’

‘fat chance. I also brought soup.’

‘you made some?’

‘no.’ He deadpans, looking at you. ‘who do you think I am? I bought it.’

‘right, sorry for assuming.’

‘why aren’t you in bed?’

you rolled your eyes, ‘I’m answering the door for you idiot.’

‘if you stand near me any longer you’re going to get even more sick. go away.’

that’s code word for ‘get your ass in bed and let me take care of you.’ you’re pretty fluent in the language of your boyfriend.

you say nothing in response and does as he says, disappearing under his sheets.

soon, he approaches you in bed with hot bowl of soup and your medicine. a glass of water is placed on your bedside table and he hovers around, making sure that you eat every last drop.

he doesn’t leave until you’re done, taking your bowl and telling you to sleep.

‘are you going now?’

‘going where?’

‘home.’

‘why would I?’

you shrug your shoulders. your head is heavy from your illness, throbbing from a headache. ‘thought you didn’t want to be around a sick person for too long’

sukuna holds back a scoff, ‘gotta make sure you don’t catch a fever or something as soon as I leave, I know you’ll try to do some work instead of resting.’

‘so you’re guarding me.’

‘If that’s how you want to see it.’

‘romantic.’

he makes a disgusted face, ‘go to sleep.’

Just as he promised he’s there when you awake and sukuna doesn’t leave for the next two days, making sure your illness is gone and that you’ve fully recovered.

spoiler alert: the soup he gave you was homemade but he didn’t want to admit it. :)

[wendichester]

Can I request cute Dean fluff of him realising he’s in love with you when you take care or save Sam from something bc we all know that man would know he’s found the one when she cares just as much for Sam as he does

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆ 🩹｡˚ aftercare,

summary. taking care of sam is also taking care of dean ‹𝟹

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 782

notes. the softest boy sigh

You’re kneeling next to Sam, your hands moving quickly as you press a clean rag against the gash on his arm. The hunt had gone sideways—too many moving parts, too many variables—but you’d managed to keep it from going completely off the rails. Now, the three of you are holed up in a shabby motel room, the faint smell of antiseptic mixing with the metallic tang of blood.

Dean stands a few feet away, his hands gripping the back of a chair, watching as you work. He should be helping, should be doing something, but all he can do is stare. There’s a look of determination on your face, tempered by the kind of gentle care that makes his chest ache.

“Hold still, Sam,” you murmur, your voice soft but firm. “I know it hurts, but this needs to be cleaned.”

Sam winces but doesn’t argue. “I’m fine. It’s not that bad.”

You glance up at him, arching an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Because you’re bleeding all over my jeans.”

Sam chuckles weakly, the sound turning into a hiss of pain as you dab at the wound. “Okay, maybe it’s a little bad.”

Dean’s lips twitch at the corners, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s too busy trying to process the strange, overwhelming warmth blooming in his chest. It’s not like he hasn’t seen you take care of someone before—you’ve patched him up more times than he can count—but this feels different. Watching you with Sam, seeing the way you’re willing to get your hands dirty to keep his brother safe... it does something to him.

“You’re gonna need stitches,” you say, your tone matter-of-fact as you reach for the first aid kit. “Dean, can you grab me the thread and needle?”

He snaps out of his daze, nodding quickly. “Yeah, yeah. Got it.” He rummages through the kit, pulling out the supplies and handing them to you. His fingers brush yours, and for a second, he forgets how to breathe.

You don’t notice—or maybe you do, but you don’t say anything. Instead, you focus on threading the needle, your hands steady despite the tension in the room. “This is gonna sting,” you warn Sam, your voice gentle.

“Just do it,” Sam mutters, bracing himself.

Dean watches as you work, your movements precise but careful. You talk to Sam the whole time, distracting him with small jokes and reassurances, and Dean can see the way his brother relaxes under your touch. It’s like you’ve got this magic about you, this ability to make even the worst situations feel manageable.

When you finally finish, tying off the last stitch, you sit back on your heels and let out a sigh. “There. You’re all patched up. Try not to rip it open again, okay?”

Sam gives you a small smile. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do all that.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course I did. What kind of person would I be if I let you bleed out in a crappy motel room?”

Dean’s heart stumbles in his chest. He can’t remember the last time someone cared about Sam like that—someone who wasn’t him. And it’s not just the act of taking care of him; it’s the way you do it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like Sam’s life is just as important to you as it is to him.

You stand up, brushing off your hands, and glance at Dean. “He’ll be fine, but he needs rest. And food. I’m guessing you haven’t eaten since this morning?”

Dean blinks, caught off guard. “Uh... no. Not really.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Alright, I’ll order something. You two sit tight.”

As you step into the adjoining room to make the call, Dean looks over at Sam. His brother’s eyes are already closing, exhaustion pulling him under, but there’s a faint smile on his face.

When you come back, carrying your phone and rattling off a list of takeout options, Dean feels it hit him like a freight train. This is it. This is love. It’s not just about how he feels when you’re around—it’s about how you make everything better. How you make him better. How you’d do anything for Sam, the way he would.

You catch him staring and raise an eyebrow. “What?”

Dean shakes his head, a slow, disbelieving smile spreading across his face. “Nothing,” he says, his voice warm. “Just... thanks. For everything.”

Your expression softens, and you give him a small smile in return. “Always.”

Dean watches you for a moment longer, the realization settling deep in his bones. He’s in love with you. And if he’s honest, he doesn’t think he ever stood a chance.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

I took it for my OCs because this just has Such a Good Exploration of Their Aesthetics and Motivations that I wanted to see what they'd get!

Dove:

(wait how did Dove get the same result as me, I think all of her answers were different???) Anyways:

a ring

you’ve made the band simple and beautiful, and inlaid just the details needed to make it special. not too gaudy, not too plain. it’s a ring meant to last forever, meant to be worn forever; when you put it on someone, it wraps around their finger perfectly, delights them. you’ve tried to make it something that people will keep. you needn’t have worried: no matter who you put it on, with time, it starts to wrap tighter around their finger. starts to cling. starts to constrict. you can’t take it off of them, when they beg you to get them free; their skin starts to redden, to bruise, to go black. the only time they manage to get it off is when the finger goes with it. as a sign of devotion, it leaves a strong impression. nobody that you pledge yourself to leaves without a mark.

(This result is weirdly fitting for her, considering she spends a solid 3 chapters fretting that her husband choosing to live his life with her is costing him his health and may well cost him his life. And the sad thing is, she's not entirely wrong.)

--

Srentha:

statue

bit by bit, you carve away the shape of a person, a figure that starts to feel more real the more material that you cut from around it. you make the legs, the arms, the torso, the head; this is your masterwork, your galatea. as you are carving the face, something slips; your hand, maybe, or a fault in the material, a defect in your tool. it leaves a slight chip across the figure’s smooth cheekbone. it has already been carved. it cannot be removed. you finish the rest of the statue. it is wonderful, by all accounts; if you can muster the ability to show it to others, they tell you that it’s a beautiful piece of art. you can’t take your eyes off the chip, though. the mark. no matter where you are in the room, your gaze finds it again, unerringly. you stare at it for hours. you dream of it at night. no matter how lovely the figure may be, no matter how beautiful the face, the imperfection haunts you. you start to hate what you’ve made. hate the mark. hate the figure as a whole. when you are alone with the piece, your fingers start to twitch. when you look down at a pile of smashed stone, you can’t tell if you are still caught in one of your desperate dreams. one of your hopeful nightmares. in the rubble, you can see a piece of the face. the chip still remains.

(So the pride in his creations is ABSOLUTELY Srentha! Being haunted by one mistake... It's not canon, but I could see it being so in his nightmares.)

--

a doll

you’ve made it to be as approachable as you can. a comely face, a soft body, made to be held and be played with and be loved. it looks a bit like you; the way that all things look like their creators, you suppose. you offer it to someone else. they smile with a polite amount of teeth and no warmth when they decline your offer. you give it away. you find it on your doorstep again, days later, slightly damaged. stepped on. no matter who you hand it to, no matter who you entrust with it, it ends up in your arms again, worse for wear every time. that is the conclusion that you have to come to. you are the only one who will hold it gently. the only one who will keep it. but even you don’t really want it anymore, do you? you resent it and feel your heart break for it all at the same time. it’s hard to love a thing that nobody else will. it’s hard not to think that there’s a reason it continues to be discarded. you know this better than you know how to say.

(...oh that would HURT her. She's an oddball, quirky to the point of being disconcerting sometimes, but she struggles to find her place in the world. Having a doll that also struggles to find its place would make it like she put eerily much of herself into it...)

--

Kary:

a sword

it’s a beautiful thing, truly. the edge shines, razor-sharp, and the hilt gleams with polish. it looks like something that only you could have created. it looks like a part of you, made metal and melted into a blade. every detail and decoration along the hilt makes it really and truly yours. when you use it, it works just as any sword should, right up until the final hit; and then it fails. the final stroke through the dragon’s neck. the final strike against the chains. the final slice through an enemy. right as you need it, truly, it slips. or it catches against something. or it breaks. it fails you, in the end, and through the disaster, you’re not sure if you’re glad to see the dreadful thing finally shatter or heartbroken that it couldn’t stay.

(Imagine the sword is Kary's self-reliance and It's Absolutely True.)

quiz enjoyers! i am now inviting you to come create something in my workshop❕

[k1mbe3rly]

Haii I'm back with another request! Can you do sub!Thanos/Choi su bong (230)× f!dom!reader where she usually is the sub but when shes jealous shes a whole different person , maybe rough sex and not letting him cum?? Btw love the nam gyu post 👩‍🦲💕

hellooo and thank yewww😘🩷

Taking control

warnings; smut, rough sex, sub!thanos x f!dom reader, edging, slight slapping, slight mommy kink

You and thanos were LOWKEY secretly dating, he says it’s better for it to be private so people don’t come at you, which you pretty much didn’t mind, but the problem was he thought it was okay to go around flirting with girls but never taking anything further obviously, you’ve always gotten jealous about it but never did anything. you were both in the games since he got you both in debt, not sure how or what

During red light green light you noticed him going up to a girl, specifically Player 196. You couldn’t hear what he was saying so you got a bit closer, “i like..you!” he said pulling out a hand heart with a thumb and pointer finger and raising one eyebrow up and down, you rolled your eyes looking away.

After the game you noticed him walking with her (let’s pretend she didn’t die), you groaned and leaned back into the metal of the bunk beds “this fucking man whore..” you muttered as you watched them, you got up and walked to then quickly grabbing onto thanos, “Sorry..i have to talk to him really quick” you quickly dragged him asking the guards for the bathrooms.

you stormed into the bathrooms “woah what’s wrong baby girl-” he begin speaking “Ugh just shut the fuck up you slut!” you yelled out in frustration , “Do you take our relationship as a joke? do you even think of me as girlfriend?” you said to him “What? of course i do!” he said out, “i don’t even wanna hear you speak!” you said shoving him into a stall, locking the stall door and quickly taking off your jacket “Undress. Now!” you said harshly

He smirked and quickly begun taking off his sweats and boxers his cock already hard, “Fuck..you actual slut! do you do this on purpose? getting me jealous huh?” you said slipping off your sweats as well

“Well if your acting like this..than hell yea” he said looking at you up and down and sitting down on the closed toilet seat, you rolled your eyes a bit. “your so fucking annoying!” you said slapping him a bit, he let out a moan and bit his lip at you, which was annoying since he never took anything you did in sex serious

you placed your panties to the side and grind your pussy against his tip as he groaned a bit, “Fuckk yes..c’mon..sit on it baby, make me cum” he said grabbing your hips a bit, “What makes you think your able to cum after that huh? your so full yourself.” you said finally sinking down on his cock, he groaned out as his hands went to your ass, you quickly grabbed his hands “Don’t touch me. Who knows where your fucking hands been..” you said to him throwing his hands back to his side, thanos playfully rolled his eyes

you begin slowly riding him, he moaned out softly, “Fuck yes- you know maybe i should get you more jealous, i actually don’t mind this at all.” he said smirking, “Oh really? yea. We’ll see about that.” You said lifting your hips up, he looks at you in confusion “Get up” you said, as you stood up, he did as well as you shoved him on the ground to his knees, “I don’t think you deserve to be inside me. Maybe earn it?” you said gripping on his hair, He didn’t say anything at all as he quickly dived into your pussy, his tongue flicking and moving all around the right places as you moaned you, you shoved his face in deeper as he moaned into your cunt, eating you out, one hand gripping on your hip and the other going to his cock as he slowly begin jerking himself off

Soft slurping sounds and his groans filled the stall, you finally looked down as your orgasm was approaching, you shoved his head more into your pussy as he begin jerking off faster, you could tell he was about to cum “Stop. stop touching yourself” you said as he looks up, he slowly stopped but kept eating you out, his cock twitched in need to cum but it got denied, finally you cummed in his mouth as he quickly slurped and swallowed everything, he backed up panting “So..did i earn it?” he said. “Yea sure.” you replied back panting a bit as he quickly sat back on the toilet sit smirking, you could tell he was still full of himself which you were gonna change.

You hovered over his cock, and teased over him just grinding a bit, it didn’t take long for you to start sinking down and bouncing up and down, Thanos groans out as his eye rolled back at the sudden bounce, you bounced on him fast and hard, your ass grinding against his thighs as he bit his lip holding back moans, “fuck!” he yelled out already feeling his orgasm rising as his cocked twitched inside you, you kept going making sure you grinded down once you reached his thighs “O-oh fuckk~! im gonna cum!~” he moaned throwing his head back, you quickly lifted yourself up, denying orgasm, you reached over pinching his tip as he winced out a bit, “The hell? i was about to cum?” he said looking at you in a bit of annoyance, “It’s funny how you think your able to cum after what you just did” you said simply

He sighed and turned his around and side eyeing you a bit “I’m sorry okay? just let me cum, i’ve been needing this since we got into this hell hole.” he muttered out, you sticked out your bottom lip a bit “Aw..poor baby.. you need to cum?” you said in a bit of a baby voice, he quickly nodded “Yes! yes i need too mommy!” He said hoping the nickname would make you feel a bit better, you smirked a bit as you kissed his jawline down to his neck, “M’kay.. let’s see what we can do..”, you than sinked yourself back on his cock, with a quick moan and a small whine he had let out, your tits bounced in your shirt as Thanos eyes were stuck on them following every movement, you bounced harshly and fast his dick hitting your g-spot as i begin moaning as well, “fuckk mommy! so close to cumming!~” you moaned out throwing his head back again, sweat covered his face a bit, his purple hair sticking to his forehead, you felt your orgasm rising again, as you bounced as hard as you can, Thanos moved his hands to your tits softly gripping them, you immediately cummed on his cock as he felt your juices trickling down, his cock twitched “Fuck- fuck!~ i’m cumming!!~” he moaned our but before he was able to actually cum you got up removing your warm insides from his cock, he whined out “Mommy-! i was so close! baby fuck..” he groaned out

“Mm..sorry but bad boys don’t cum” you said giving him a kiss on the cheeks “Baby.. please? you can just do this!” he said, “If you need to cum so bad just do it yourself, you have a hand, see you out there?” you said getting up and pulling back your sweats up, you walked out the stall but before you left the bathroom you heard Thanos yell out “I said i was sorry mommy!” he said with a bit of hope you would come back but leaving him sitting there sexually fustrated, he huffed out already planning something to get back at you.

[maimurariki]

Soft spot - nrk.

-I need you cause you’re everything that I’m not.

| pairing: delinquent!riki x rich girl!Reader.

| synopsis: in which you, the perfect, rich, and popular student helps the schools feared delinquent with a few small injuries.

• *+. Wrote this at 12 am! enjoy and reblog if you can🍂

You were sitting in class, talking with a few of your friends after the teacher finished the lesson for the day. It was fifth period, about an hour after lunch. You heard that there had been a fight, but didn’t look too much into it. In the midst of chatting with your friends, your head began to hurt. After trying to ignore it, you quickly asked your teacher for the pass to the infirmary.

After walking the halls for a while, you reached the infirmary. There you saw a boy sitting on a nurse bed with a disgruntled expression. His face and arms had a few bruises, two open wounds on his face bleeding. One on top of his left eyebrow, and one on his bottom lip. He looked like he had just gotten into a fight. The boy sat alone, looking quite lonely. Seeing your appearance in the doorway, he raised his eyebrows, observing you for a moment before turning his head the other way, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

There you stood, not really knowing what to do. You had looked over at the nurse, who wasn’t even bothering to help him. Did people fear him that much?

Your eyes went back to him, your lips moving before you could even think.

“Do you… need any help?”

The boy scoffed at the your offer, his eyes narrowing as he looked you up and down with disdain. “I don’t need your damn help. Especially not from someone like you.”

He turns away from you, wincing slightly as he examined the bruise on his arm. After a moment, he mutters under his breath.

“Besides. Those morons wouldn’t dare lay a finger on me. ‘Would rather let me bleed out if you ask me.”

He chuckled darkly, but there’s a hint of pain in his eyes - pain that goes beyond just physical wounds. His tough exterior cracks for just a second before he plasters that cynical expression back on his face, glaring at you.

“So why don’t you run along? Don’t want you getting your pretty hands dirty with someone like me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, looking at the nurse leave the infirmary, excusing herself from the awkward situation. You walked over and grabbed a first aid kit, standing in front of him.

Riki’s eyes widen slightly as you approached him with the first aid kit, clearly not expecting you to stick around. He watched warily as you set it down on the bed beside him.

“What, you’re actually going to bandage me up, or are you just here to gawk at me?” He said sarcastically, but there’s a small hint of curiosity in his voice. Like he can’t quite believe you’re still trying to help him. As you start to unravel the bandages, Riki jerks his arm away, scowling.

“I said I don’t need your help. Just leave it, alright? I can handle myself.” His tone is sharp and defensive, he’s used to being independent. To not rely on others. But he doesn’t move away when you try again, his tough exterior showing some cracks in the face of your kindness.

“Why’re you doing this anyway? You barely know me.”

You froze for a split second. He was right. You had only ever heard his name pumping your peers, but obviously didn’t know him personally. So why were you doing this? You continued to bandage his arm, a small shrug coming from you.

“I… don’t know. I just felt like it.”

Riki stared at you intently, searching your face for any hint of deception. After a long moment, he let out a restated sigh.

“Fine. Do what you want. Just don’t expect me to be grateful or anything like that.” He sat motionless as you started to clean and dress his wound, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

But every so often, he’ll glance over at you, like he can’t quite believe you’re still there. As you finish wrapping the last bandage, Riki flexes his arm experimentally.

Your hand lingered on his skin for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. He freezes at the unexpected contact, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

“There. Happy now?” He doesn’t pull away though. Doesn’t even move. It’s like he’s caught between the desire to shove her hand off, but also a strange urge to lean into her touch.

Soon realizing, you pull your hand away, studying his facial features. You notice the cuts on his face too, noticing that t your work isn’t quite done here yet.

“Hold on a sec, there’s cuts on your face… let me get those.” You sat down and leaned closer to his face, cleaning the cuts.

Riki stiffens as you move closer, your face now mere inches from his. He can see the details of you that he’s never noticed - the long, dark lashes, the softness of your eyes, and the careful way you touch him.

It’s unnerving, this close proximity to someone showing him such gentle care. His voice comes out softer than intended, almost a growl, he there’s no bite to it.

“You’re… too close.” He mutters, not moving back but not pushing you away either. It’s a half-hearted protest, a last-ditch effort to maintain his barriers.

As you clean the cuts, he watches your hands. They’re steady, and your touch, though light, is warm. It’s.. not unpleasant.

He realizes he’s been holding his breath and exhales slowly, the action more revealing than intended.

When you’re done, you lean back a bit.

“There. You look good as new.” You softly smiled.

Riki hesitates for a moment, the soft smile on your face doing something strange to his insides. He sits there, a mixture of confusion and a warmth he can’t rember feeling before.

His gruff exterior fades slightly, replaced by a genuine, albeit halting attempt to respond.

“Yeah… thanks.” He mumbles, looking down to avoid meeting your gaze directly. His next words are muttered to himself than to her ��never had someone… do that for me before.”

The, unable to stop himself, he adds with a hint of defiance. “But don’t make a habit out of it, alright? I can handle myself just fine.” Even as he says it, his voice lacks the usual bite. It’s almost as if he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

You nodded, standing up and giving him what looked to be a sweet strawberry candy. “Here. You need it after the sour day you’ve had.”

His hand hovers above yours before he finally takes the candy, his large, calloused thumb unable to mask its delicate wrapper. “Thanks.” He manages, voice barely above a whisper.

You got up and made your way for the door, smiling to to yourself.

Riki’s gaze follows you, a mix of emotions playing across his face. Confusion, surprise, and something else he can’t quite place. He’s not used to such acts of kindness, especially from someone like you. Popular, wealthy, everything he’s always resented.

He clears his throat, almost as if he was arguing with himself.

“Hey.”

You stop in the doorway if the infirmary, not turning around.

“Stay away from guys like me, you hear? It’s…better that way.”

It’s a warning. A push, an attempt to maintain the distance he’s always kept. But there’s a hint of protectiveness in there, and note of genuine concern. He’s not used to caring, but something about you makes him want to shield you from the ugliness he knows all too well.

You look over your shoulder, eyes looking directly into his. The sunlight from the infirmary windows gracing onto your face and figure in the doorway.

“Okay.” You gave him a small smile before walking out, going back to your class.

Riki watched you leave, his eyes glued to the spot where you once stood in the doorway, bathed in the golden sunlight. There was a strange feeling in the boys chest, an unfamiliar tightness that’s neither pain or discomfort.

…

The boy had only known you for thirty minutes, yet he’s already gained a soft spot for you.

inspired from ‘soft spot’ by Keshi.

[sun-kissy]

espresso | j.p

james potter x sunshine!reader

summary: james sees you at a cafe, and is enamoured by your brightness. you pay for his drink, and he can't help falling in love.

cw: fluff

James Potter could count the number of times he’d been told he was bright with both hands – what a ray of sunshine he was, how he lit up the room with his smile – and he still wouldn’t have enough fingers. 

But one look at you made him question every such compliment he’d been given. If he was sunshine, you were the whole goddamn sun. 

So close, yet so far; you stood just a few feet in front of him in the queue to the café counter. And he was lying if he said he wasn’t already enamoured.

James thought the word pretty must’ve been made to describe you, all soft curves, sweet smiles, daisies in your braid and little white dress. You were laughing brightly, phone clutched to your ear. He felt a small pang of envy for not being the one to elicit it. 

But he felt lucky to even be able to see you like this — in all your beauty and light and gentleness. It wasn’t even winter, and he’d gotten so close to warmth. What a great day.

You step forward for your turn, and James shamelessly gazes at you. He sees you beam at the barista and order your drink, before jerking your thumb backwards. He steps forward curiously.

“... yeah, I’d like to pay for the person behind me, if that’s okay,” you smile and nod. 

His heart does a little somersault in his chest, and he feels the affection pool like honey in his throat. So you didn’t just look the part, you really were sweetness personified.

James steps up to order next, clearing his throat. You’re stood beside him, patiently waiting for your drink as you type away on your phone. Maybe this is his chance.

He clears his throat and looks at the barista. “Hi.” Loud. Too loud. “Um… I’d like to get an espresso, please.”

“Okay, anything else? Your drink’s been paid for by the person in front of you.”

“Oh, wow,” he tries to look surprised, nervous fingers going to rub the nape of his neck. “Wow, that’s… that’s really nice. Um, I’d like to pay for the person behind me too,” he says slightly louder than he would’ve. 

You hear, just like James wanted you to, and turn to give him a small smile. He feels like doing a victory lap around the block.

That’s until a confused Sirius pokes his head out from behind James, giving him a strange look. “Prongs, weren’t you gonna pay for me anyway?”

James internally smacks his palm to his forehead. Instead, he turns to glare at Sirius, hoping it conveys everything he wants it to. Sirius just blinks.

He sighs and turns back to the barista embarrassedly, hoping you hadn’t noticed.

He’s about to open his mouth to wave it off when he hears you giggle, and swivels to look at you. It’s like everything in him instantly softens, seeing the sparkle in your eyes and the bashful way you press your hand to your mouth. You’re looking at him like he just said something really funny. He thinks maybe he’d be the butt of every joke if it meant getting to see that smile.

James mindlessly pays for his drink before eagerly stepping towards you. His heart feels like it’s going to start doing jumping jacks, or maybe he might, to get rid of this insane amount of anxiety. “Hi.” He hopes he doesn’t sound as nervous as he feels.

“Hi,” you smile sweetly, slurping on your drink.

“You owe me one,” he blurts out.

“Huh?”

God, now he’s really messed up. “No, no, I meant –” he runs his hand through his hair, “– I owe you one. For, you know, the coffee?”

“Oh,” you laugh softly, easing up a little. He releases the breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “No, you don’t. That was the whole point of it.”

“Let me take you out.”

He almost lets out a squeak after having said that, immediately pressing his palm to his mouth like he’d just revealed a national secret. What was wrong with him? He watches your reaction carefully.

You smile, and turn the loveliest shade of pink he’s ever seen. “You don’t even know me.”

“I want to know you.”

His tongue seemed to be speaking of its own accord. Maybe he’d give it a tongue-lashing later, but for now, he’d let it get him a date.

You consider him for a while, smile widening slightly. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he exhales with a grin, running his fingers through his curls again. “Okay, sunshine. I’m James.”

You blush at the term of endearment. “Hi, James. I’m Y/n.”

“Hi,” he mumbles. “Hi, Y/n.”

You both stare shyly at each other for a moment, like you’re taking the other in. Getting to know them, even though you weren’t, really. Maybe that’s how it had always been; the sun knew of its sunshine even though it couldn’t see the rays itself.

You clear your throat bashfully. “I have to go.”

“Oh, um – okay, wait –” James scrambles in his pocket for his phone before holding it out to you. “Your number?”

Your face lights up as you take it and type your number in. You hand it back to him. “Does tomorrow work?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Yup, tomorrow works. Same place?”

“Same place.”

“Okay, then,” he exhales, unable to stop the smile on his lips. “Bye, sunshine.”

“Bye,” you grin shyly and wave, pressing your straw to your lips as you turn around to leave.

A daisy falls out of your hair, landing softly on the wooden tiles. James picks it up and tucks it into the shirt pocket next to his heart.

[mulloey]

clever girl

mafia!seonghwa & mafia!yunho x undercover detective!reader. feat. mafia!ateez

words: 7.5k

warnings: dark content. extremely dubcon. depictions of gangs, violence, death (not you or ateez& not shown) and prostitution.

smut warnings: heavy dubcon, threesome, hard doms!yunho & seonghwa, exhibitionism, gun play, double penetration, anal, unprotected sex, sir kink, pet& degradation names, fear kink, some thigh slaps, mentions of pregnancy and breeding, death threats, humiliation, no aftercare, imprisonment etc

hate is deleted and blocked

-

“Detective.”

Your head darts up, gaze meeting that of your irritated looking boss. He stands above you with folded arms, a displeased expression on his face. “Sir,” you greet him. You struggle to keep your expression blank, a smile pulling at your lips; you know exactly what he’s mad about.

He slams a sheet of paper down on your desk. “Why did you request to do this mission alone?” He asks, wasting no time. “Have you lost your mind?”

You don’t need to ask what mission he’s referring to; though you, much to his annoyance, are known for choosing to go it alone, there’s only one mission on your roster right now that’s dangerous enough to make him this agitated. You sigh, rolling your eyes as you lean back in your chair. You stretch your arms out above you with a yawn before sitting back up, eyes on him. “I’ve been watching these guys longer than anyone else,” you say. “Before anyone here would even acknowledge they were an actual threat. I know how they work.”

“Yes, we’re all aware of your qualifications,” your boss snaps. “But I wasn’t asking about that. I’m asking why you want to do this alone.”

You nod, a small concession and certainly the most he’d ever expect from you. “It took me a long time to fully understand these men,” you explain. “They’re incredibly volatile and unpredictable, even for a gang.”

“Even more reason to have backup.”

“No,” you disagree, shaking your head. “Even more reason not to send officers to their deaths because they don’t know what they’re dealing with or how to deal with it.”

His mouth opens and closes, formulating a response. He frowns, tapping a heavy black boot against the floor. “You really think that’s what it’d be?” He asks. “You think we’d lose men?”

“I’m certain,” you say. “I can’t emphasise enough how dangerous these guys are if you don’t know the way they work or how to stay on their good side. But I do know those things, sir. I’ve studied them for six years.”

He hums. “And you actually think you can handle it alone?”

You smile, nodding confidently. The thought of finally meeting these strange men in person has you a little queasy, but you know you can get this done. “It’s simple intelligence gathering, sir. I’m happy to have backup stationed a good distance away, but I’m not sacrificing good people for something I can do alone.”

He stares at you for a moment, searching for any signs of uncertainty before he sighs, nodding in defeat. “Very well,” he says. “I can see there’s no convincing you. You can do this alone if you’re absolutely certain that’s the best course, but you will call for help when you need it. The moment you need it. Understood?”

You smile, standing up to shake your still hesitant looking boss’ hand. “Thank you, sir. Understood.”

On the other side of Seoul, in a dark office piled with weapons and supplies, a screen lights up, buzzing with a new message.

4:37pm

unknown number: she’ll be coming soon. alone.

A man stares down at the message, a thin smile on his lips. It’s finally happening. The girl he’s been watching, who’s followed him around corners and stared into his windows for years, will finally stand in front of him, and she’ll be completely alone. He couldn’t have asked for more.

He sighs, twirling a knife around sullied fingers. Come, little dove.

—

Five days later, a taxi drops you off just on the outskirts of what has become their unquestioned territory. It’s an unassuming area, not rich by any means but not outwardly dodgy, either, and to the untrained eye doesn’t seem at all like gang territory. But you know better, of course. You know what happens behind the doors that quickly close as you walk by; you know the terrors behind the eyes of the men who leer at you as you venture further away from safety. You know this place, and you know that as far as anyone who knows anything is concerned, you’re not in Seoul anymore. As much as your boss may claim to, try to believe differently, neither the law nor the police nor anything can help you now. Every step you take now is taken at the mercy of the eight men you’ve come here to meet. The Owners, locals call them. You’ve come to know them as Ateez.

You walk with your head down, trying not to catch any more attention than being a lone woman at this time of night already commands. One hand is stuffed in your jacket pocket, fingering at your gun for reassurance while the other hangs at your side. Beneath your jacket, the black dress you’ve chosen to wear hangs just above the middle of your thigh. You hate the feeling of it, shorter and far less comfortable than the pants, jeans and shirts you’ve become accustomed to as a detective, but it’s all that was available for the very specific tactic you’ve chosen.

From your interviews of Ateez’s associates, or at least the ones who you’d managed to catch before they did, you know that they are extremely and understandably stingy with their information. Their personnel, operations and other intelligence is closely guarded on a completely need-to-know basis. It’s what makes trying to capture the lower-level members of the organisation such a pointless task; the majority of them don’t even know who their bosses are, let alone any useful information about them. In fact, the chances of actually meeting the men themselves are very slim even for people looking to do business with them; from several accounts you’ve ascertained that even trusted partners and allies will work with the organisation for years without ever meeting its leaders. No, the only people who get anywhere near the leaders and, more importantly, the information they possess, are the women who come and go from their penthouse on a quickly rotating basis, and according to your informants, always seem to emerge looking even more terrified than they’d entered.

As such you’d formed your plan; you’d enter as one of their hookers, with the clothes and parts to match, find out as much as you could, bug every inch of the penthouse, and leave with your satisfied clients none the wiser. A simple enough plan, but as your years on the force have taught you, not one that’s likely to go exactly as you expect. You just hope that you come out in one piece. Or that you come out at all.

You pull the jacket further across your chest, holding it tightly against yourself. Mercifully, the inconspicuous, but for you instantly recognisable building belonging to the organisation soon comes into view. By design it doesn’t stand out, except for the fact that it is quite a bit taller than its neighbours, but you know what goes on in there; or at least, you’re about to. You take a deep breath before biting the bullet and quickly stepping inside.

The interior of the building is just as uneventful; relatively clean but stained in places with substances you’d rather not think about. A few men shuffle around silently, looking up briefly when you walk in before quickly averting their gaze when they realise what you’re here for. It’s a well-known rule, apparently, that no one is to even think about a girl the leaders have had, even after they’ve discarded her. And with such a fast employee turnaround, it’s no mystery what they do to people who violate even the smallest of rules. The leaders — particularly the eldest two, you hear — run a tight, disciplined ship, and think nothing of throwing anyone overboard. Except each other, apparently; the one thing that every single one of the informants had vouched for is the tight, indestructible bond of the men at the helm of this operation.

A man approaches you nervously, asking why you’re here and you quietly whisper the name of one of your informants; miraculously you’d managed to turn one of the men Ateez frequently used to procure their companions, and he’d agreed to hand you over to them, essentially guaranteeing your authenticity; basically, he’d promised to vouch for you not being the exact thing you were— a snitch. A cop, at that. The man you speak to nods in understanding and directs you where to go and, thanking him with a smile, you make a note to thank your informant the next time you check in with him.

The further you venture into the building, your heart pounding heavier with each step, the nicer it becomes. When you step into the elevator, far nicer and more richly decorated than the front of the building, it becomes clear that the first part of your mission — breaching the restricted area — has been successful.

You step out on the top floor and the difference is obvious; polished floors and hallways lined with mirrors, paintings and flowers show you this is a part of the building few will ever see. This is the bosses’ world. Ateez’s world.

Breathing shakily, you knock on the doorbell the way you’d been instructed — five times, with a gap between the third and fourth. You hear voices before the door opens seemingly on its own, revealing the lavish interiors of the leaders’ apartments. It’s richly decorated with a dark, oak theme, and there’s not a person in sight.

“Hello?” You call out. Your voice almost seems to echo in the vast emptiness of the penthouse. “I’m here to see the Owners? Binwoo sent me.”

Silence abounds and then, just as you start to worry this has all been a big set-up to take out the only detective who’s gotten remotely close to the group, someone emerges. You recognise him instantly as the leader, Hongjoong. You’ve only seen him in surveillance, and very scarcely; the only time he ever seems to leave this place is when someone pisses him off so badly he decides to deal with them himself, so naturally the majority of your surveillance of him has been of torture and murder and pain. Seeing him in front of you now, not as tall as he looked from afar yet somehow even more imposing, those images of him — the things you’ve seen him do — play on repeat in your head.

When he raises a hand to wave at you, all you can picture is the black leather gloves he wears while he brutalises, covered in blood. Your blood, if this doesn’t go well. There’s a reason, you think, that the employees who don’t know this man’s name and thus resort to nicknames, have settled on The Butcher.

You gulp as you wave back. You hope he doesn’t notice the way your hands shake. “Hello, sir,” you greet. You bow politely, trying not to let on to the fact that you have any knowledge of who this man is or what he’s capable of. “I was sent by Binwoo to entertain you.”

He cocks an eyebrow, staring you up and down. “He did say he had someone for us,” he says. This is the first time you’ve heard his voice clearly, and you have to stop yourself from looking surprised at how… normal he sounds. Like a regular guy in his 20s, really— certainly not the monster you know him to be. In another situation, you think you’d quite like his voice. It’s gentle and welcoming and you could even see yourself getting flustered by it; but instead the voice, the man, everything about this moment, fills you with terror.

“Yes, sir. That was me.” You try your best to sound seductive, or even normal, but you’re not sure if he buys it.

He stares at you for a few seconds, eyes narrowed. “Take off your jacket,” he orders. Fear pulsates as you obey; you note that his voice is deeper than before. You hope it’s arousal— or even just curiosity. Anything but what you’re fearing it to be.

You take off your jacket as quickly as possible, hanging it up on the hanger next to the door as he instructs you. You stand in place, hands by your sides like your informant, Binwoo, had told you he teaches his girls to do. Wearing only your dress and heels, you feel more exposed and vulnerable than ever.

He stares at you for a moment before nodding, satisfied. “I’m Hongjoong,” he smiles. “What should I call you?”

You don’t think about your answer; you’d come up with a name while planning this mission, just as you always do. “Mira.”

He cocks an eyebrow, sceptical, but nods. It’s not uncommon for prostitutes to give a fake name, particularly in circles like this, so your obvious moniker shouldn’t be a problem unless he figures out the real reason you’re using it. You pray he doesn’t.

“Very well, ‘Mira’,” he grins. “I’ll take you to the others. They’re waiting for you.”

You follow him down the hallway; dark, ambiently lit, almost cosy. The sound of your heels on the wooden floor breaks the silence into small seconds, giving you a rhythm to follow and cling to as you walk towards what could very well be your doom.

Reaching the door to the dining room, Hongjoong spares a second to look back at you, offering a thin smile that could almost be reassuring before pushing open the door. The room is bigger than you could have imagined and impossibly lavish; more suited for royalty than a criminal syndicate. Along one side of a long, oak table that stretches much of the length of the room sit seven men, arranged to face you in an intimidating formation.

You recognise them all, each face unnerving you more than the last. It’s true, they’re all stupidly handsome — even more so in real life, you realise — but all you see on their faces are the countless, endless amounts of blood on their hands. You’ve seen some of it yourself, more than enough, but the stories are even worse; men, women, children, anyone who stood in their way, slaughtered like sheep. You could swear you hear the faint ringing of screams in your ear as they look up at you.

“Gentlemen,” Hongjoong says. “This is Mira.”

They greet you with interest, a few of them offering a smile while the others simply stare you down. “Turn,” one of them says — San, you think. You stare unsuredly at Hongjoong and he lifts an eyebrow; a silent order to obey. Slowly you turn around, letting them see your back side before facing them once again. They look pleased.

“She’ll do fine,” another, Wooyoung, says with a grin.

Your gaze catches his and you gulp, unnerved. Wooyoung was the person you were most nervous to encounter; though his demeanour is friendly, enthusiastic even, the stories you’ve heard about him are the worst. He kills, massacres people with ease and he does it with that same grin on his face. It’s more terrifying than the more calculated, stoic members, because while they’ve probably killed and maimed more people than him in the long run, they at least treat it with the seriousness it deserves. Wooyoung ends lives without consideration and treats it all like some kind of game.

“Um…” you start. “What would you like me to do now, sirs?”

“Unless anyone has any requests,” Hongjoong starts. He looks around at the others and when no one speaks up, he continues. “You may put your bag on the table then come back here to present yourselves to us.”

You nod, voicing a quiet ‘yes, sir’ before nervously making your way over to the table. Your grip on your bag is iron and you’re hesitant to let it go; your bugging equipment lies in a secret compartment at the bottom hidden beneath the makeup and toys you’d brought to make yourself more convincing, and to leave it with them feels like giving yourself away. But even if they check your bag, you think, they have no reason to think there’d be any kind of secret compartment. You’re safe. You just need to get this done and then you’re safe.

You walk back to where you were, alone this time — Hongjoong has gone to take his seat next to the oldest member, Seonghwa, and now you’re eight-to-one.

Seonghwa speaks for the first time and his voice is surprisingly sultry. “Take the dress off,” he says calmly. His eyes are narrowed. “I’d like to see what I’m working with.”

With shaking hands you remove the dress, carefully unzipping the expensive (for a detective’s salary, at least) fabric and sliding it down off your body. Clad only in black, lacy lingerie, you feel a deep flush across your face; you’ve never been so exposed in front of a man before; certainly not multiple men and certainly not dangerous, notorious criminals. A whistle sounds across the room, though you’re not sure who it came from, and you blush deeper. You feel the weight of their gazes as eight pairs of eyes hover over every inch of you, inspecting and scrutinising you silently. Seonghwa, the closest to you and with the sternest expression, can’t seem to draw his eyes away from your breasts. You swallow, feeling vulnerable and smaller than you ever have before.

“Turn,” Seonghwa says, voice commanding. “Let me see the back.”

You nod, turning once again, taking your time to give them the opportunity to rake their eyes up and down the back of you; no doubt hovering on your ass, globes cleverly exposed by your lingerie. You hear a few whispered comments and try to keep your composure; you almost feel the touch of their hands on your ass, squeezing and slapping it however they like. You know they want to; you hope they will— it will mean you’ve convinced them enough for them to let their guard down.

“That’s enough,” Seonghwa says. “Turn back.”

Relieved, you turn back to face them. You’ve passed one obstacle, you think. Seonghwa stares at you for a moment, expression unreadable before he curls a long finger, bidding you closer. You take a few steps before he raises his palm, stopping you, and you still yourself. His eyes rake over your torso again before he nods. He stares up at you with dark but interested eyes and a smile breaks onto his face before he speaks.

He says it so casually you almost miss it. “I know what you are.”

His voice is so soft you only just hear him and the words take a moment to hit you. When they do, your reaction is sudden and visceral; you heart drops into your stomach like stone, blood rushing to your head at a dizzying pace and you almost pass out. But you do your best to keep your reactions internal; you know the only way to make them more certain of why you’re actually here is to freak out and panic at the mere suggestion. No. You can play this one off. You’ve trained for this. You just need to de-escalate.

You clear your throat, tapping your foot against the floor. “And what’s that?” You ask, trying to sound sultry; your voice almost breaks on the last word but you catch it in the nick of time. “A whore?”

Seonghwa’s lip quirks. “You know,” he says. “That’s not as far off as you think. But no.”

You almost want to huff at the jibe he’d thrown at you, but you remember your situation, the danger you’re in and choose to stay on his good side.

“What am I, then?”

“We don’t really need to say it, do we?” Hongjoong interjects. There’s no anger in his voice; he sounds somewhere between bored and amused. “We both know already.”

You reach up to your chest, to the chip you’d hidden in your bra in case you needed to call for backup, but a loud laugh stops you.

“Are you calling for backup?” Wooyoung grins, confirming what you already knew — they know exactly why you’re here. They’ve figured you out.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, still fighting your case. Your voice starts to falter as you speak, composure beginning to crack. Some small, stupid part of you still seems to think there’s a way out of this, but you know there’s not. They know your secret. And even if they were wrong, if you were innocent, this is their territory and their house— if they say something is so, there’s no arguing.

“You are,” Wooyoung laughs.

“And that backup,” Hongjoong interjects again, “they wouldn’t be the officers we found in vans on the next block, would they?”

You feel your heart drop into your stomach, jaw dropping in disbelief. No. The next block? Does no one listen to a fucking thing you say?

“I—”

“I wouldn’t bother calling for them,” Seonghwa says. You hear a few chuckles from the others, clearly enjoying this. “I don’t think I need to explain why.”

No, you think, he doesn’t. You know what they do to spies and traitors — what they’ll do to you. You can only hope they killed your colleagues quickly. If you somehow ever make it out of here, you’re going to do the same to your boss — you told him to station backup far away and this is why.

Starting to panic, you begin to back away but your pathetic attempt only takes you a few steps before Seonghwa barks, “Grab her!”, and the two men nearest descend on you.

Your years of combat training are no match for the strong, probably better-trained men, and within seconds they have you fully restrained. You struggle in their hold and the taller, Mingi, harshly grabs your hair, yanking it back to force you to stare the others straight in the face.

You expect to see anger, even bloodlust when you meet their gaze, but you don’t. Other than Seonghwa, who seems irritated at your attempt to escape, they look… unbothered. It doesn’t make sense, you think. Not with what you were trying to do and especially not with how painfully close you came to doing it. For having almost had their entire network penetrated by one terrified looking woman, they look strangely calm, like they’re entirely unsurprised by this development, and you don’t know why. Unless…?

You hold back a groan as the realisation hits you. “You knew.”

Hongjoong smiles, amused. “We’ve always known, Mira. You think we wouldn’t realise we were being watched?”

You bow your head. You’re still terrified, knowing these men have killed countless people with the blank, unbothered expressions they wear now, but right now the overwhelming, crushing emotion is just… embarrassment. You feel like a rookie again; cocky and confident with your badge and gun until you fuck up for the first time and it all comes crashing down.

You shrug. “I don’t know.”

You hear someone snort and look up to see Wooyoung, giggling almost gleefully to himself. “Aren’t you meant to be the smartest on the squad?” He laughs. You hear a few others chuckle too. “Didn’t you tell your boss you ‘knew everything about us’? But you didn’t consider the fact that we might know you?”

He makes a good point, you realise. But while you figured they’d know they were being watched, with your high-tech surveillance equipment and ability to blend into a crowd, it had barely crossed your mind that they might know who was watching them — certainly not that they’d somehow know the exact things you’d said about them. They must have bugged you, you think, or somehow gotten a spy into the department to listen in on your discussions on them. You guess you owe them more credit. And a lot more fear.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to say.

“I’m certain you are,” Hongjoong says. “Now you’ve been caught. Are you keen on proving it?”

You look up, confused, hopeful and terrified all in one. You thought you’d be dead by now, shot on sight. And if they intended on killing you slowly, torturing you for information before finally letting you die, you figured they’d have started by now. Or at least made any attempt to move. They could still do it, of course, but they don’t seem in the mood for that. They look… curious.

“P-prove it?” You stutter. “How?”

A few of them smile, mouths curling into thin smiles and you shift uncomfortably. The two oldest share a look before Seonghwa nods and seemingly out of nowhere, Hongjoong pulls a gun, setting it carefully but loudly on the table. He keeps a hand on the trigger and his eyes on you as he speaks. “Firstly,” he says. “Don’t try to run. I’d hate to stick a bullet through your pretty face but if you bolt, that’s exactly what I’ll do. And I know you’ve seen yourself how excellent my aim is.”

You gulp. Hongjoong’s right. Through the lenses of your binoculars you’ve seen him — all of them, in fact — make some almost impossible shots. Certainly more impossible than a woman in heels trying to escape from a locked room. There’s no point trying to run. You’ll leave when — if, you think with a shiver — they allow you to.

You feel yourself deflate, nodding defeatedly. “Okay.”

“Alright,” he smiles. “Mingi, Jongho, let her go.”

The men holding you stare almost petulantly at their leader but he raises an eyebrow and they relent, releasing their grip. “Not a fucking toe out of line, Mira,” Mingi whispers in your ear. He says your ‘name’ like it’s diseased.

Despite being released, your body refuses to move; it stays paralysed in the same position, too terrified to even shiver. A blessing in disguise though, you suppose; Hongjoong looks pleased. “See,” he smiles. “It’s so easy to just be good for us, isn’t it?”

You try to respond but all that comes out is a small, pathetic squeak. A few chuckles sound out across the room and your gaze catches Yunho, who, though appearing calm, in his eyes looks just on the edge of feral. You gulp.

Seonghwa is the first to move; he says your ‘name’ lowly, curling a finger towards you. “Come here,” he orders.

You approach him as slowly as you can excuse, soon enough ending up inches away from him. He looks you up and down, inspecting your body with dark eyes.

”You’re shivering,” he says softly.

You manage to force out a few words. “I’m cold,” you reply. “And…”

“And scared?” He asks. You don’t respond, but you flush pink and he chuckles. “Clever girl,” he says. “You should be scared. I’ve never liked the way you seemed so… fearless about us.”

He wraps an arm around your waist, eyes flashing when you jump in surprise. “So flighty,” he mutters. “Sit on my lap.”

You don’t know if you would resist if you could but that doesn’t matter; your body, seemingly in survival mode, moves of its own accord to straddle him. His hands settle on your waist, just above your ass and he smiles.

“Still shivering,” he chuckles. “Good girl.” He leans in close enough that only you can hear as he whispers; “San’ll be much nicer to you if you stay this terrified.” You gulp, eyes flickering in the direction of the man mentioned; he’s watching you intently, face blank but he’s clearly not one to mess with. He’s so much more intimidating in person.

“Now,” Seonghwa says, and you turn your gaze back to him. “Let’s see what you can do for us, hm? Open your mouth.”

You hesitate briefly, but quickly obey, parting your lips slightly. Seonghwa runs his thumb across your bottom lip before he tugs at it to open your mouth further; before you know it a wad of spit lands on your tongue, and he closes your mouth again. He taps your cheek. “Swallow,” he says.

You pray your boss never finds out about this; straddling your enemy’s lap and swallowing his spit on his command. Then again, you’d be lucky to see your boss again at all. You don’t particularly trust that they’ll spare your life just because you let them fuck you. This feels more like playing with their food.

Seonghwa pushes two fingers into your mouth, ordering you to suck. They push to the back of your throat, making you gag but you keep them inside, sucking them desperately and trying to ignore the way your body screams at you to get them out. “Sucking me so good,” he grins. “You’re gonna look so pretty with our dicks in your mouth.”

You can’t help the moan that slips out; nor the flood of relief that washes over you at the praise. Maybe they will let you live after all.

Seonghwa thrusts his fingers lazily in and out of your mouth, letting you choke and gag on them as your throat slowly adjusts to the intrusion.

“I must say,” he says. There’s curiosity and knowing in his eyes; a knowledge of something you think is secret. It unnerves you even further. “You’ve come around to this remarkably quickly. I really thought you’d put up more of a fight, petal.”

Noises of agreement sound out, the men chuckling to themselves. “Pathetic,” you think you hear Yunho say.

“You know, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong says. You turn in surprise at his voice— sitting in Seonghwa’s grip, those dark eyes burning into you, it’s easy to forget there’s anyone else in the room. Hongjoong smiles amusedly at you before he continues. “It’s almost like she wanted to fail. Like she wanted us to realise what she was because she knew that’d mean we couldn’t let her leave.”

You manage to stop yourself from scoffing— thank God, you think, because the pistol on the table in front of Hongjoong is ever present and you’ve seen him use it on others for a lot less. But come on. That’s ridiculous. You’ve been after them for years, never for a moment with any intention other than locking each and every one of them up for good. You try to protest but Seonghwa clamps his palm over your mouth, shushing you. “You might be right, Joong,” he smiles. “That would explain why she came here so poorly prepared. Like a lamb to slaughter.” He removes his hand from your mouth; his fingers brush over your lips and linger a little longer than you can justify.

Hongjoong chuckles. “Is that it, little lamb?” He asks. “Were you hoping for this?”

You shake your head, determined to refute him but to your horror, part of you starts to wonder if there might be some truth to his words, if you… no. No way. Of course you weren’t hoping for this. Still, your hesitation tells them more than you want them to know. “I…”

“She was,” Seonghwa grins. “Naive little girl.”

You frown, brows furrowing. “I’m not—”

Before you can finish your sentence, a deep voice you recognise as Yunho sounds out, silencing you. “Will you stop fucking talking back,” he snaps, almost shouting. He leans over to where you’re still held firmly in Seonghwa’s grip, eyes dark. “I swear to God,” he whispers.

“Yunho,” Hongjoong replies before you can, tone warning but amused. “Don’t be mean to her. She must be so scared right now, hm?” He turns back to you, narrowing his eyes. “And maybe something else?”

“She’s horny is what she is,” Yunho snorts dryly. “Dripping for us yet still with so much attitude.”

“She can’t resist,” Seonghwa says. “It’s in her bones, isn’t it?” He strokes your face with a gentleness you’d never expect from him; but the knowledge of how easily he could and might still kill you makes it a lot less comforting. “She wants to hate us, knows she should but this feels so right, doesn’t it? So good.”

You whine, shaking your head; you know you’re past the point of resistance now but you can’t bear to fully submit. There’s no coming back from that. Seonghwa sighs, stroking your hair. “As soon as you give in,” he says, “this will get so much easier.”

“I—”

“Hm?” He asks. “What? You can’t?”

You shake your head and he smiles. “You can, Mira,” he says. “You will.”

You groan, squeezing your eyes shut as if you could make this all go away just by blocking it out. You hear them chuckle, then before you know it you’re being lifted up; you open your eyes and see Seonghwa has stood up, still holding you in his arms, before laying you down on the table with your legs hanging over the edge. Your stomach twists as you realise the position you’re in; completely exposed and at their mercy. Ripe for the taking. Your hands are lifted above your head and you look up to see Yunho, holding them together firmly in one hand. Seonghwa’s hands come to rest on your hips again.

“Open your legs.”

You whine, shaking your head squeezing your thighs together. Seonghwa scowls, displeased and wraps a calloused hand around your plush upper thigh. He stares you down, eyes dark as he starts to squeeze. His sharp nails dig into you, piercing the skin ever so slightly under the pressure. You whimper, squirming a little but he doesn’t react.

“Open them.”

Cold metal touches your temple. You don’t need to look to know that Yunho is holding a gun to your head. You swallow thickly, trying to stay calm. At this point, you’re not disobeying on purpose; you’re not stupid enough to think that would work. But in the thick of adrenaline, where your body had once obeyed of its own accord, now… it won’t move.

Seonghwa gives Yunho a pointed look and then the gun leaves your head. Now in the elder’s hand, he puts it down for a moment before, with one hand on each thigh, he spreads your legs open with ease. “There we go,” he hums.

The steel of the pistol is ice cold against the warmth of your inner thighs as he moves it slowly up your legs until it points directly at your pussy. Covered by the thin black fabric of your panties, you nonetheless feel entirely exposed, like he can see right through them.

The end of the gun comes to press up against your panties and you feel the cold steel through the fabric; but where it presses against your clit, pressure slight but noticeable, it’s almost nice. It doesn’t move; Seonghwa keeps his hand still in place, watching with a small smile as you try to conceal your pleasure. He pushes it against you slightly, making you gasp, and gestures to your panties.

“Take those off,” he says. “Quickly, if you want the safety to stay on.”

You scramble to obey, tugging them off and discarding them next to you. With a small smile, Seonghwa picks them up and stuffs them in his pocket. You bite your lip. “Sir,” you whisper.

He hums, cocking an eyebrow before placing the gun back where it was before. This time he presses it more firmly against your clit and you squirm. “Nice and still for me,” he murmurs.

Turning your head, you see the other men gathered around the table. They’re just… watching. No one looks affected, no one’s touching themselves; they’re just watching their friends take you apart with entirely blank, focused expressions. Like it’s a clinical procedure.

Unnerved, you turn back to face Seonghwa just as he slips the gun ever so slightly into your pussy. You gasp, almost crying out but Yunho quickly shoves his fingers into your mouth, silencing you. “Now, now,” he cooes. “We don’t want to make them angry, do we?” His voice is sickly sweet and condescending and the most terrifying thing you’ve ever heard. You shake your head, still gagged by his fingers and he chuckles. “Good girl.”

Then the gun is gone as Seonghwa pulls it away— a string of wet, sticky liquid following in its wake. He smiles knowingly and you wish the earth would swallow you up. You’ve creamed on a fucking gun, shoved up your pussy by your worst enemies. You’ll never come back from this.

“My, my,” you hear Hongjoong chuckle. You turn to meet his eyes and he tilts his head, smiling innocently. Seonghwa grabs your face to force your gaze back to him. “Stop looking away,” he says. “I’m the one fucking you.”

The gun clatters down and without warning Seonghwa’s long fingers are penetrating you; two, you think, maybe three. He doesn’t ease you into it (why would he, really?), just quickly stretching you out on his fingers. And then Yunho’s there too, standing next to the elder and watching him work you open with dark eyes.

Soon they swap places, and while Seonghwa’s fingers are certainly large, Yunho’s are something else entirely. His fingers pump in and out of you efficiently; your pleasure clearly isn’t what’s on his mind, but rather, working you open for something bigger. He certainly pays no mind to your reactions; even as you whine and cry his eyes never move from your pussy as you come more and more undone around his fingers. He’s focused, dangerously so.

Once his third finger sits comfortably in your pussy, he pulls them all out, leaving you gaping and empty. You whine at the loss and he chuckles before he picks up his gun again. He runs it up and down your thigh with light, teasing touches.

“Want it in you?” He asks.

You nod, desperate. At this point, you wish you felt shame— you wish you were embarrassed and humiliated to be debasing yourself like this for your targets; but instead you’re just aroused. Completely, overwhelmingly, suffocatingly aroused. “Sir,” you whisper again.

He grins, twirling the gun in his hand. The ease with which he handles it is a stark reminder of where you are, who these men are. It does nothing to lessen your desperation.

“Very well,” he says. “Stay still, Mira. Wouldn’t want the safety coming off accidentally.”

Accidentally. You almost scoff. You’re a detective; you know a thinly veiled threat when you see one. And this is barely veiled. Still, you do as he says without complaint, keeping your legs spread and pussy open for access as he presses it against your entrance. It goes in surprisingly easily; lubricated by your gushing pussy and it’s as humiliating as it is exhilarating. You make a noise of discomfort, biting down on your lip until you taste blood; half of pleasure and half of pain.

The steel is cold and inhuman and the edges push painfully against your walls and it’s degrading and terrifying. Yet at the same time it feels so good to be used and demeaned in this way; to be fucked open not for your pleasure, not even his pleasure, but purely for his own amusement. You know every noise or face of pain you make is making him harder and it’s a rush you’ve never even felt from sex. Fuck. What is wrong with you?

At this point, you don’t even know who’s talking; people and voices blur into one distant, surrounding haze.

“She’s loving this,” someone says.

“Sick bitch,” another spits, then, “we should keep her.”

Then the gun is gone, and you’re suddenly empty, your walls clinging to nothing— briefly. Within a few moments something else nicer, warmer, better is sliding into you; you look up, meeting Seonghwa’s gaze as he pushes into you. He’s large and thick, bordering on this side of too much, but it feels… good. Fuck. You’ve never felt like this in your fucking life; neither, it seems, has he.

“Fuck,” he choked. “Tight little whore. So fucking good.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, lost in a fog of pleasure and clinging to the rhythm of his quickening thrusts. Half of you wants to forget who it is that’s doing this to you, making you feel so good; the other half thinks this is the only dick you want for the rest of your life. But with each thrust of Seonghwa’s dick deep inside you, slamming against your cervix each time, you become less and less able to think of anything at all— except the waves of painful pleasure washing over you, and your desperate desire for it to never, ever stop.

It’s just your luck that, just as you feel yourself approaching your climax, Seonghwa pulls out without warning, leaving you empty and leaking. You’re about to cry out in protest when you find yourself flipped over, pressed down and bent over the wooden table. You feel the two men behind you, kneading your ass, and a sharp slap lands against it before Seonghwa pushes back into your pussy again.

“Hwa,” Yunho says. “I don’t think she’s full enough.”

Seonghwa slows his pace, and you feel his stern, scrutinising gaze on you. “You’re right,” he says. He spreads your ass cheeks, making you gasp, and he chuckles. “Look at that little asshole clenching. I think it wants to be filled.”

Yunho makes a noise of agreement, pressing a finger to your rim and making you jump. “Think she can handle my cock in there?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not really,” Yunho says nonchalantly. “But I’d rather not break her completely. She’s too tight, it’d be a waste.”

“Fine,” Seonghwa says, slowly starting to thrust again. After a few moments, he pulls out, and you feel Yunho’s long fingers enter your pussy. You whine, confused, but a slap of Seonghwa’s hand against your thigh silences you. Yunho’s fingers pull away, replaced with Seonghwa’s dick again, before Yunho’s fingers are on your asshole, pushing into the rim with— oh. He’s… he’s using your slick as lube.

“Dirty girl,” he mutters. It takes embarrassingly little time before he manages to fit all three fingers in there and he stills. “You ever been fucked here before?”

“N-no,” you gasp, squirming under the two men’s grips on you.

“Good,” he says. “Hold still.”

The feeling of his cock pushing past your rim makes you scream— it’s fucking maddening; painful and pleasurable and pretty much every adjective you could use to describe anything. You don’t even recognise the sounds you’re making now; you barely sound human, squealing and crying like an animal.

“Yeah,” Yunho grunts. “Bark, bitch.”

You’re fully sobbing now, a broken, dripping mess as two cocks pump in and out of you. Seonghwa’s fingers are digging into your hips, no doubt leaving bruises to match those blooming under the impact of your colliding bodies each time they thrust. Yunho’s hands are in your hair, tugging your head backwards; it stretches your neck painfully, but you doubt he cares; the only thing on either of their minds is using you for their own satisfaction. Only the sound of laughter reminds you of the presence of the other six and you crane your neck to look at them.

“Look at her,” Jongho laughs. “Taking it like a fucking whore.”

Emboldened by his comments, Yunho speeds up, thrusts getting quicker and harder by the second. You feel your walls clenching around his cock, squeezing him each time he moves.

Seonghwa’s thrusts are just as fast, hitting you just as deep, but in the more familiar cavern of your pussy, they’re not quite as overwhelming as Yunho’s. You can tell by their tightening grips on you when they’re close, slowly losing their control.

“I’m gonna fucking cum in you,” Yunho growls. “I’m gonna get you pregnant and fucking keep you here. Our little breeding bitch.”

You cry out, half pleasure half pain, and it pushes you over the edge; with a shout he releases inside you, hot load filling you up and leaking out around his dick before he pulls out. Seonghwa follows quickly, unloading in your pussy before pulling out, leaving you fucked out and leaking onto the floor.

“Disgusting bitch,” someone says.

Seonghwa touches your hip almost gently, and you find yourself crumpling to the floor, unable to hold yourself up anymore. Sat in a pathetic heap, you faintly see the men surrounding you.

“You did a good job, Mira,” Hongjoong says, and he almost sounds fond. “A maid will take you to your cell.”

Cell. The word hits you like bricks crashing down; knocking the wind out of your chest and dropping you back into your reality— you tried to beat them. You failed. You’re trapped. You know they see the terror creep back onto your face. You imagine they enjoy it.

Seonghwa pats your head, and for a moment it looks like he wants to kiss you; instead he just smiles, nodding curtly before following his brothers as they walk away. Hongjoong is the last to exit, leaving you alone, still crumpled on your knees and covered in cum on the floor of the hall. Before he closes the door, he turns back to you; his eyes hover over your shivering form and a smile flickers.

“If you can keep this up, Mira,” he says, “we’ll probably let you live.”

The slam of the oak door echoes around the room.

-

thanks for reading! i think this is darkest fic i’ve ever written. i’m trying to start branching out into more plot-heavy fics along with the usual smut, so this is something of an attempt in that area. your feedback is much appreciated and motivates me to write more. reblogs and comments are appreciated. requests open. love🖤🖤🖤

[cutehoons02]

You don’t have to tease the "Ice Prince"

*pairing: pervy boyfriend Sunghoon idol x coquette Girl

*tags: grumpy x sunshine

*synopsis: What if your boyfriend finds out you’re reading a "spicy" one-shot found on Tumblr with him as the male lead?

*tags: Teasing, fluffy, humor, Sunghoon is a pervert, jealousy, possession, tease each other, embarrassment, unprotected sex (don’t horny people) + 18 minors don’t interact,cowgirl with skirt,masturbation,kissing,fingering,a little degradations (slut,bad girl),pet names (good girl,princess) (Hoonie) fluffy moment at the end

(English is not my native language)

5.4k (🎀)

You were on the sofa where you shared the apartment with your roommates but luckily that weekend they were all going out, you had your phone in your hands and were particularly distracted and curious by what you found on Twitter. Your mind wandered, while the sound of water rushing from the shower made you aware of Sunghoon’s proximity which was a few meters away. You had just seen a fan account that recommended your boyfriend’s new Tumblr fanfiction dedicated to him, written by a profile who was very popular on Tumblr because this account wrote fanfiction about Enhypen and each one-shot had thousands of likes. Curious, you decided to read it, without imagining that reading would trigger an unexpected reaction from your boyfriend.

"Hmm, let’s see what the fans say about Hoon..." you thought opening the link.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon, who had just showered, came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel with his usual serious but relaxed look. It seemed the perfect version of "Ice Prince" even then, but those who knew him well knew that inside he hid a more sarcastic personality and a little perverse, especially when it came to Y/n. Hoon looked at you while you were busy reading something on your phone and his look lowered on the top that you had with small bows that stood out your shapes above your breasts. Still, his eyes moved immediately on your skirt of a good girl who loved to put on, especially during the weekends to go out in the clubs or to tease the direct interested, always appreciated your physique but your legs were the thing that made him more and more excited, they were: skinny to the point, straight, your thighs were firm and a little muscular for all those years you had done sports and loved to put you on his big legs muscled and crazy when you rode it.

He had a little bit of a kinky mind when he thought about you but when he talked about you to his friends or family, he always described you as his favorite kind of girl, You were sweet with everyone, you studied a lot, and were happy to be your boyfriend because in more than 6 months of relationship you had almost never argued about anything and he was happy to have a healthy relationship.

'What are you reading princess? 'What is it that has so much attracted your attention?' You looked up completely embarrassed and gave him a little smile that he loved to see you do, was a sincere smile but at the same time you were hiding something

"Oh my God, Hoon! You scared me I didn’t think you had already finished washing" You immediately turned off the phone and put it on the small table that you had in your room.

Sunghoon, as he was drying his hair, raised an eyebrow, almost annoyed at your response. Walking towards you and with a low, mysterious voice he said: 'What were you looking at? Don’t tell me you were still reading those dark romance books that you’ve been obsessed with lately.'

You looked at him with bright eyes and the eyes that passed from the phone to his body in plain sight that you had before you and the thing that made you blush most was that he had only a towel tied to his waist and nothing else. "Uhh.... one of your fans on Twitter posted a link to a Tumblr story... about you. It seemed interesting and I read the plot just to see what it was about."

Sunghoon looked at you with a mischievous smile 'Interesting, huh? And what does this story say?' He came up to you and blew on your neck, making you a little bit scared but also excited. The air between you two became immediately more charged and he laughed nervously. " Well, it’s about this super cute girl... and a mysterious and sexy guy who is called "Ice Prince" as well as you, who wins the heart of this girl. It seems to me that they have used a little too much imagination..."

Sunghoon stood in front of you, bending his head with a funny smile. 'Oh? And how do you think they describe me, eh?' His voice was low, and his tone more provocative.

You sunflower to look at him with an ironic smile on your lips. " Well, I guess you’re the typical 'Ice Prince', but with a hidden side you would say a mix between a possessive guy of his girlfriend and we also add sexy but at the same time that you love to have it just for yourself and treat her as if she was the only one for your eyes."

Sunghoon approached slowly, leaning towards you, the eyes shimmering with a mischievous light. 'Sexy, uh? And how would you like me to be, Y/n? Because I know you like to play with fire and you know that with me you will be sure to bite.'

You blushed slightly but didn’t back down. " Ah, but you know it, Hoon. I like you both as 'Ice Prince' and as... possessive guy towards me and that you treat me like your princesses." Your smile widened as you added, "And then, it’s not my fault that... you’re so sexy and handsome, aren’t you?"

Sunghoon stopped for a moment as if that sentence had struck him. But then his perverted side took over.

Sunghoon came even closer, almost making you touch your body. 'Oh? Sexy, huh? Then you should tell me which part of me makes you crazy."

You chuckled, unsure of how to answer. "Well, Hoon, that’s it. You drive me crazy when you’re serious and cold, but also when things get hot...and when only with me you show me the most human part of yourself"

Sunghoon looked at you with a twinkle in his eyes and lightly stroked your all-red cheek and gave you a little kiss 'Oh, Now I understand... so you like it when it comes out both my perverted part that is only with you princess but also when I make the perfect boyfriend, huh?'

The tension between you was palpable, as if every word, every look, were a little game of seduction. You knew that Hoon had that side of himself he never showed to others, but you, with your chatty and carefree character, managed to get it out.

"Well, if I say it too clearly, you’ll become even more perverted, and your alpha male ego will double up so maybe you should just let it go."

Sunghoon smiled with a face that defied innocence. 'Oh, don’t worry, you know by now my 'perverse' is only for you." and gave you a wink and went to your room to dress.

You watched it amused and your mouth curled into a mischievous smile. "I know, Hoon. And I love you for that."

After the dinner you had prepared for you two, Hoon stretched and you saw how he looked good with his fake nerd glasses, gray jumpsuit pants, and a slightly loose shirt that wrapped up his beautiful toned physique. Hoon wanted to relax and you put them in your bed to watch a series but after a while Hoon fell asleep hugged you and you took some photos to send to the other members to tease him after your session as a photographer with a grin, you dumped Tumblr because you were curious to know and read what fans wrote about your boyfriend and you found hundreds of one-shots with #Sunghoon x reader and thought in a low voice "Wow, they’re all so... smut and intense!"

The stories were almost all based on Hoon, but each time they described more daring, provocative versions of him, some even a little "inconvenient". There were many stories of him in the vampire version, in the nerd version, in the Ice Prince King of Ice Skating etc, etc. A wave of excitement and curiosity crossed you, but there was also a small part of you that felt... jealous... No, not exactly. You were just a little amused by the idea of all those girls writing about him, almost as if they wanted it in the absolute way.

You would see with your finger and put some like to stories because you wanted to read them absolutely and you stopped at a particular story and thought.

"Oh, I can’t believe they imagined this... Hoon is so different when you know it, but I don’t mind that they see it like that. Who wouldn’t be attracted to him?"

You kept reading, while every word, every description of Hoon as a "perfect guy" made you smile. But the more you read, the wider your grin became, a little amused but also surprised. Hoon, although more shy and distant, had another face that came out in the fans' dreams. You had found a story interesting and tried to read it but while you were reading and you were almost halfway through the story and you were completely absorbed in the reading, a warm hand suddenly squeezed your wrist.

You shoot, finding yourself face to face with Hoon, who is looking at you with a mischievous and... dangerous smile.

'It seems to me that you are finding something interesting in that phone, Y/n '

You felt a shiver down your back. You didn’t know if you were excited or a little scared by his expression.

"Oh... nothing, I was just... just running through. It’s not what it looks like." you gave a forced smile, trying to hide your embarrassment and curiosity that you had to finish that story.

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, still holding the phone and in a deeper tone told you. 'Really? Because it seems to me that you are reading some... detailed stories about me.' His voice had a tone that mixed the game with a kind of warning, but his grin added tension.

You were a little more nervous, trying to get away from his grip, but he stopped you with a look that left no room for doubt. Sunghoon came closer and his warm breath on your ear gave you a little shiver. 'You know Y/n, it’s not nice to do things without asking... but I like that you’re curious.'

You felt your legs give a little, but you did not let yourself be discouraged.

"I didn’t think you were jealous of fanfiction, Hoon. It’s not my fault they’re so fascinated by you." You said in a slightly provocative tone and Sunghoon smiled at you, a smile that, though affectionate, concealed a veil of danger. 'Oh, I’m not jealous. But more than anything... I’m curious to know what you like about me, and how you react to these stories. Do you think they’re right? Or maybe you’re trying to... imagine something more? What is it that, I don’t suffice in flesh and bones that touch you, To make you come with my hands or fuck you?'

You looked into his eyes with your mouth slightly open in amazement, feeling the atmosphere change completely. " Maybe I want to see what happens when the game gets... more interesting and how you imagine your fans in situations like this..."

The whole environment seemed to change as if the serenity of the evening had been replaced by a thrill of anticipation. You should have been very careful that night because Hoon was not at all like his fans described him in those fanfictions.

And now... he seemed ready to let you discover a whole new side of himself...

Sunghoon, with the phone still in his hands and a smile of pure satisfaction, settled more comfortably next to you. His fake nerd glasses reflected the light of the screen, and his gaze was fixed on you as the tension in the air grew. You watched him, nervous, trying to grab the phone, but he was too fast and kept it out of your reach and looked at you with a look that made you understand that you should be in your place.

Let’s see what my princess was reading with such interest.

'Am I curious as well to know what the fans think of me... or maybe us?'

You tried to hide the redness that invaded your cheeks and saw the look of Hoon down to your long legs completely uncovered and your skirt that rose slightly as you were sitting, you tried to pull the skirt down to cover your legs, But Sunghoon was quicker. His big hand laid naturally on your completely naked thigh at this point, touching the skin uncovered and making you shudder when while gently touching your thigh it also left you little pinches.

You were definitely nervous and tried to stop his hand from slowly rising more and more "Hoon, it’s nothing! Just... nonsense, really. You don’t have to read!"

Sunghoon ignored you and with a cold smile said: 'Nonsense? Let’s see...'

He began to read aloud, with his calm and deep voice making the words sound even more intense.

"'Hoon pushed her slightly into his bed and her look was icy as he sat down leaning on the bedside keyboard he made her lean on his muscular legs. His voice was a whisper, but strong enough to make her lose her head: 'You can’t run from me, you know that?'"

You held a hand to your face, embarrassed to the bone, while Sunghoon kept reading in a funny but sharp tone.

""His hands slowly slid down her legs, leaving a trail of chills. She needed no words; his touch was enough to make her understand that it belonged to him... completely.'""

Sunghoon’s hand, meanwhile, moves slowly on your thigh, almost following the rhythm of words. His eyes never broke from the text, but the smile on his face revealed that he knew exactly what he was doing.

You almost stammering you said. "Hoon! You can’t... I mean, stop it! That’s not fair!"

Sunghoon smiled and smiled, just turned his gaze to you 'Isn’t that right? You were reading these things about me. I think you were very curious, didn't you? Or maybe you wanted... to imagine something more?'

Your eyes were pierced and his words struck you. Your mind was in turmoil, torn between the embarrassment of being caught in the act and the excitement that Hoon was creating with his calculated and direct attitude.

Sunghoon came to your ear, with a low and sharp tone. 'Tell me, princess, why do you have to act like a bad girl and read these things when you have me right here? Don’t you just have the original?'

His hand slipped slightly higher on your thigh and when he found the edge of your panties he began to pass one finger along your entire lace edge and you held your breath.

What did you have to answer him? With the truth or with a lie?

"Maybe I just wanted to... figure out what the others see in you."

Sunghoon laughed because he knew it was a lie, you just wanted to cover your ass so you wouldn’t face the consequences.

'What a nonsense answer. You don’t have to find out through Tumblr. You’re the only one who can see the real me. And I assure you that I’m far more interesting than anything these stories can tell.'

The atmosphere between you had become more intense, almost palpable. Sunghoon, despite his serious tone, had that spark in his eyes that indicated how much he was enjoying seeing you embarrassed and, at the same time, excited by the situation.

'Now, tell me: would you rather read more stories or find out what I can do? Because, I’m not just the ice boy that everyone imagines... but this you already know, right?'

You didn’t know exactly what to say and there was an awkward silence, your cheeks were all red and you were torturing your nails with your teeth. It was a reaction that Sunghoon had never seen before. He watched you, his grin was more and more pronounced. This rare vulnerability of yours to see was a weapon he would never have wasted.

Sunghoon came closer to your ear, with a low and icy voice

'What’s the matter? You’re speechless? You can’t even defend yourself, where is the girl who loved to tease me and test me with her arrogance?'

You looked at him, swaying, biting your lip to try to calm the embarrassment that grew to excess.

"I can’t stand you, Hoon! You’re unbearable!"

Sunghoon stopped, pretending to reflect for a moment. Then he smiled a dangerous, almost sharp smile.

'Unbearable? Are you the one who has decided to read certain things? Are you the one who has behaved like a bad girl?'

His words hit you like an arrow, growing that mixture of embarrassment and tension that made your heart beat faster.

"No... it’s not true. It was just curiosity."

But he didn’t seem to want to let you escape. He scrolled the fanfiction on your phone and began to read aloud again, in a slow and dangerous tone:

"His lips settled on her skin, slowly descending as he held it under him. «You can’t run away», he whispered to her, his breath against her neck, making her tremble. It was all control and desire as if every movement of her was calculated to drive her crazy... and while he kissed her neck he fingered the already completely moist panties and said: take off your panties without getting up from my lap and leave the skirt of a good girl that you are not for nothing"

Sunghoon’s hands moved slowly on your uncovered leg, his fingers brushing with a delicacy that seemed almost dangerous the center of the panties and felt they were already wet. You hold your breath, trying not to be overwhelmed by the sensation.

'Put yourself over my length, princess, let’s see if you can recreate this scene,' said Sunghoon looking at you with a cold look. When you heard these words you pushed him slightly to leave but he blocked you with a wrist.

"Hoon, stop it! I told you to stop it! I was just curious you don’t have to act like..."

Sunghoon stopped for a moment but with an even more intense smile

'Stop? You are the one who made me discover these things. Now you can’t complain'

You tried to reply, but you didn’t have time. Before you could say anything, Sunghoon took you by the hips put his muscular legs over you dropped the phone next to your bed, and leaned towards you and his lips found yours with a chilling confidence, yet warm and overwhelming.

The kiss was anything but gentle. He was full of desire and control as if he wanted to show you that no story, no fantasy written by a fan could compete with what he was.

Initially, you stood still, surprised by the intensity of the kiss but soon you found yourself to respond to the kiss. His hands immediately sought your ass and brought you even closer to him so you felt immediately its hard length between your panties that slowly became more soggy; you tried to push it away because you were slightly angry, But you ended up clinging to his shirt, as if your body had decided to surrender. Completely to him.

Sunghoon slightly detached from your lips and whispered to you:

'Tell me, princess, do you still think these stories can truly describe how I feel about you? Or must I prove it to you again?'

You looked into his eyes, still unsure of how to react. Your breath was fast, your heart was beating so fast it seemed like Hoon could feel it.

"You’re not... you’re not as intense as they describe you."

Sunghoon laughed, a low and deep laugh that seemed to vibrate in the air.

'Intense? Y/n, I haven’t even started. Take off your panties without completely taking off from me and leave the skirt' He said to you in an authoritarian way you would have wanted to yell at him but his gaze was fixed on yours and looked at you with a grin.

You knew he was playing with you, but you couldn’t deny that that side of Sunghoon - so sure, so controlled yet passionate at the same time was irresistible to both your mind and body.

"You’re terrible, Hoon." Whispering, trying to regain control, You slowly rose with your knees from your legs, and slowly as if you wanted to tease him even more slipped your pink panties with the bow between your legs and immediately felt the cold air around your pussy that was getting wet more and more.

Sunghoon bent down to the level of your lobe and said to you. 'Good girl' with a mischievous smile

His lips immediately went to give you small kisses on your neck and at the same time sucked it to give you the idea that only he could leave you red marks, You would have seen them in the next few days as you would have gone to see them in the mirror and you unwillingly your hips and your pussy now completely wet move slowly and unconsciously along its length still covered by your pants.

'You were embarrassed until a few minutes ago while I read that shit on me and now you’re here like a slut rubbing up on my dick, who are you y/n? Take off my pants but don’t you dare to take off my boxer, I want you to come straining over my dick and if you’re good I could give you a little help'

You stared at him as you felt that he had called you slut but at the same time you were even more excited because he had used his tone and sharp point that he used a few times with you, but when he used it you knew that it would end not bad anymore. You saw Hoon take off his shirt and stand bare chest and put your little hands in his strong muscles and you covered them as if they were made of gold and with the hands, slightly trembling feces slip his pants of the suit on the ground and with a snatch he brought you back over his boxer shorts and you with your pussy completely naked could feel the attrition of his cock that was getting bigger and bigger inside the boxer shorts.

His big hands were around your hips and at the same time on your ass and began to make you squirm against its length and every time you tried your mind was clouded with pleasure, you could not wait to have it completely inside of you. " Hoonie, please" You heard Sunghoon giggle and gave you a light slap in the ass and you jerked both for the scorching but also the excitement.

'Use the words Y/n, you are no longer that little girl who had to learn how to take my cock. They created you with your mouth both to take my dick blissfully but also to talk and to have your opinion, use her' You rubbed again your pussy dripping in his boxer shorts, and with embarrassment saw that you had slightly wet them and you were not only wet but there was also a more slimy part attached to you.

"Please let me come, I’ll be good to you" Sunghoon stretched your buttocks slightly and saw that you were gone, Your pussy was dripping, and without telling you he stuck his finger in the center of your heat and began to pump it up and down and at the same time curl it inside you.

'Are you satisfied? You know I shouldn’t even make you come, right? I don’t like bad girls who read dirty and you know that, But today you crossed the line. You read some dirty things about me with the knowledge that I could discover you' You sighed slightly and another finger entered inside you and as a good girl, you took both so well.

Sunghoon was ecstatic, You had only the bra on obviously pink candy with cute bows, and that fucking little skirt that now held it up to see how your pussy took well his fingers but with a brusque gesture immediately pulled them out and looked at him with the mouth slightly. " Hoon, no please, it was so nice please you can’t" Hoon put his finger on your lips to make you shut up and lightly smeared your arousal and licked it.

"How many times have I told you that you shouldn’t tease the ice prince in me, Y/n? I will only make you cum with my dick inside of you and you should also thank me because I could go again to take a shower and masturbate instead of making you come.

Sunghoon pulled up his supreme black boxer shorts and his cock slightly bounced in her sculpted V-line, it was long, thick, and slightly veiny and you already knew that you would have a hard time getting it all inside your tiny tight pussy. With slightly trembling hands and the excitement you had between your legs, you took it in your hands and gently pumped it, you would have wanted to tease him but Sunghoon was looking at you with a funny look but at the same time serious and if you did something that he would not be well he would leave you alone or punish you. You pumped it for a good minute and saw how Sunghoon was passing his fingers through the thick hair after a while you got up slightly and tried to take it but the feeling of its tip pressing on your hole was too much.

Sunghoon held your ass tight and you tried to get used to it slowly and felt his cock working its way into your tight pussy, you jerked so sweetly and a little moan came out of your lips and Hoon was amazed to see you so all for himself, The eyes began to slightly become brighter as your hole tightened around him. Your swollen lips drop into a pretty "oh!" and he smiles.

"Fuck- Hoonie is too big! I can’t!"

'You can do it for me, princess. It’s the second time you've taken him sitting between my legs and already the first time you had enjoyed', his breath is hot against your ear. 'I’ll make sure it goes well. Just when you feel comfortable mount me slightly and then I’ll help you as the last time ' You already feel so drunk on his dick, you struggle to keep your eyes open while he sticks his big tip in the sloppy hole. Hoon’s cock contracts so well inside you to the sight. 'Come on, darling, be a good princess for me, I already feel that you can ride me.' was so excited to see the way your pussy is gaping so shamefully open for him. Gasping gasps at every push, every ride you make of his cock your pussy squirts and milks it well with all your slimy sperm. " Hoonie...too much," Whine a little until you hear your boyfriend untie your breast strap and start sucking on a nipple all hard, and at the same time his big hands were on your hips helping you ride his dick 'Oh god it’s so nice to be on top of you, Please continue to suck my breast"

'open your eyes princess,' moan, touching the bottom in a quick push 'Feel how you take it all...like a good girl or I can call you slut?' your head shakes no, The stretch is enough to break you but Hoon won’t stop until he’s buried in your dripping pussy all the way.

You can’t think. You don’t even realize that your tongue is sticking out until he pulls it out and bends over to suck it when he pushes it back in while your boob bounces at every push of his cock, his hands slamming against your ass in the process. You’re so overwhelmed with him that you can’t return the kiss. The kiss had begun gently but after a while there was nothing sweet and gentle left it was rough and with its strong arms you imprisoned between him. Moving away from you, he smiles as he begins to pull out inch by inch in a painfully slow way. 'the pussy belongs, my cock is yours and I repeat you do not need to read those one-shots about me' he hums, while the dick enters you again and you mount it as if you were obsessed by him.

The rhythm that starts is numbing and makes you delirious. "Oh! Oh my... oh my god! Hoonie please!" You can’t do anything but take it while Sunghoon is getting closer and closer to orgasm. 'I’ll fill you.' he whispers, with a husky voice and dripping with despair. "Must I remind you that you are mine? That you can only take my dick and the only one who can love you and feel all these feelings is me?" You nod enthusiastically, "Yeah... I’ve been yours for months now... Hoonie!" That’s what’s driving him. He impossibly increases the pace, so violent that your skin burns where his hands hit you and slightly pinch your ass. 'Fuck, you’re so beautiful, who would have thought that the girl super cute and with a coquette style girl could be fucked so well by me, an asshole who loves to possess you and love you'

breaks dangerously, the look lost in the cock full of white cream that forms around its base to look you in the eye, 'I need you like this forever...all my life'

"Yes yes yes, please! Forever please!" is completely intent on making you babble for him and being so completely obsessed with him both mentally and physically you can’t stand it anymore.

Your eyes are wide open when he starts hitting your g-spot, fingers sticking into his arms. " Right there! Oh! Hoonie right there is so good to feel and have you just for me!" little howls leave you.

'right here, princess?' purrs, the tip presses more in that soft spot. His eyes are dark and glistening with something predatory. Your body moves with every push, you jerk repeatedly and slam against his cock. Hoon’s thrusts become sloppy when he is near, and the body bends to groan in your ear. 'I'm coming princess' Wrap your arms around his body to pull him closer, you need to feel his heartbeat against yours before pressing your lips on his cheek. " I’m coming Hoonie!!"

You come so strong that your body trembles in Sunghoon’s arms, you were too exhausted and drunk on his cock that all you can feel is Sunghoon beating inside of you. " Hoonie, inside like this, it’s so beautiful "moans softly, the words get blurred as he gives you little kisses on the cheek. The slob hole trembles at the feeling of being so full. "I know princess," he whispers, his voice was light and sweet again. Patiently wait for you to let go of him so he can clean you, not wanting to accidentally trigger but instead of loosening the grip, you curl up against him more, and after a while you start to kiss lightly all the little ones that you loved so much in his face and you saw him slightly become a little embarrassed and his cheeks were even redder.

"I love you, Hoonie." He made you stand up slowly and when he made you lie down he went straight away to get a clean cloth to wash your intimate areas and after a while put on his wide shirt and made you take off that already crumpled fabric of your little skirt and embraced you and gave you a small kiss in the Front and looked at you.

'I love you too, You must never doubt what I can do for you, Y/n. You don’t need those fantasies. You have me and I can give you everything you want. From crazy sex, to love, to protection...whatever you ask" You embraced him, and after a while you both fell into a light sleep as you hugged each other.

OMG🤍i hope you like it not know if you want but I would write this reaction for the other members, would you like?

[mattysketchup]

nerd!matt giving brat!reader head

100 follower special !!

warnings… oral (f receiving), matt the munch, soft dom!matt, swearing, slight degrading, hair pulling?, edging, pet names

my first actual smut fic, mb if its ass but enjoy

(masterlist)

“so if a dataset has a mean of 50 and a standard deviation of 5, what percentage of the data falls within one standard deviation of the mean?” matt asks.

you groan as you fling your head back. “matt c’mon, we’re not gettin’ anywhere with this”

“alright jus’ this one question.” matt says as he acknowledges your whines. matt was smart, like really smart, and it was noticeable to anybody who saw him.

the collared shirt, big glasses, and the awkward persona were enough to give it away.

“matt” you complain. “we’ve been at this for hours… can we just wrap it up? my brain isnt working anymore.”

“c’mon sweetheart…just a couple more questions, we’ve almost finished reviewing this unit.” he said, trying to get you to cram for your exam tomorrow.

“ugh fine. one more question” you say, only agreeing because, truly, how could you say no to him?

minutes pass and all you begin to think about is the growing heat between your legs.

you uncomfortably try to adjust your legs to make it stop, but nothing works. you start to zone out, your mind racing with all the things the man in front of you should be doing.

sure, you’ve noticed how stunning matt is, i mean you are “dating” him.

you look around his dorm to try and find anything else to focus on.

but his messy hair, shirt pulled up to see his veiny arms, and the raspy voice were enough to make a woman go wild.

“hellooo? y/n?” matt calls, causing you to snap out of your trance. “hey?” you respond.

“i asked you a question- you’re not listening are you.” he realizes.

“matt ‘m sorry, but i just don’t understand this and i’m so tired” you whine.

“sweetheart, you have your exams tomorrow. if you don’t revise and study you won’t do your best on it.” he warns.

he knew you weren’t the smartest person, well at least not compared to him, but he knew that it was probably your daddy’s money that got you a spot at a prestigious university.

“just two more-” he starts, but notices the pout on your face and your crossed legs and chuckles.

“oh sweetheart, you couldn’t even wait ten minutes for us to finish this?” he says, mumbling a small ‘pathetic’ before moving closer to you.

“please matt” you whine.

“please what?” he smiles, his hand on your knee.

“pl-please touch me” you pout, knowing he wasn’t going to give in that easily.

“oh, you poor thing” he coos with faux sympathy laced on his tongue.

he rubs a hand up and down your knee, your plaid skirt you wore to tease him now sliding up your thighs.

“fuck- matt don’t tease…” you mewl, your arousal now practically dripping in between your legs.

he smirked at you, loving the way you reacted to the slightest touch and the simplest of words.

“take this off f’me, yeah?” he basically whispers, running his hand over your skirt.

you do just that as he points over to the bed. “sit” he commands.

you’re now sitting at the edge of the bed in your baby blue lingerie, waiting for matt to touch you.

he gets down on his knees, slowly kissing your now slightly shaking thighs.

your pussy aches for this man, wanting him to just touch you.

he slowly takes off your panties, disregarding them on the floor as he softly spreads open your legs.

he wraps your thighs around his head, looking up at you with those submissive ass eyes.

“matt- please i need you” you beg, your fingers intertwined in his brown locks.

he smiles at the amount of power he has over you, kissing your pussy before slowly licking your clit.

you slightly moan at the sudden pleasure, your mouth agape.

he continues this subtle yet effective movement, earning more and more moans from you.

he begins to lap his tongue around your hole, causing you to grab his hair.

his tongue moves faster and faster as your hips buck against his tongue.

“y’like that sweetie?” matt asks, moving his tongue faster (if possible.)

“oh fuck- yes matt” you whine, your brain foggy. “m’gonna cum”

“ah ah ah” he tuts, stopping his movements. “i’ll tell you when you can come doll”

this only made you whine more, since you were used to getting your way.

“f-fuck matt… i can’t take it” “oh but yes you can doll. you practically begged for it, you’re gonna take it.” he commands.

you were a moaning mess on his bed. eyes rolled to the back of your head, legs shaking, and your hands gripping at matts hair in an attempt to make him go faster.

“h-holy shit” you moan. “please i need to cum”

“hmm… have you been good?” he asks.

“yes… please matt” you groan.

“atta girl, cum on my tongue babydoll” matt’s words, tongue, hands travelling your body, and piercing blue eyes were enough to send you over the edge.

you felt your body relax and the knot in your stomach snap as you released your arousal on his tongue.

“this gonna help you ace your exam tomorrow?” matt asks jokingly, as you playfully smack his shoulder.

tessa’s notes… THANK YOU ALL FOR 100 FOLLOWERS !!! i truly didn’t know how fast i could grow over the span of 3 months, but you all made it happen and i’m so grateful for every single one of you💋. guys i literally HATEEE writing smut so i do apologize if it’s terrible, js wanted to try smth different to express my gratitude for all of you !!!

[occamstfs]

Work-Study

Coach Decker molds job-searching Jeremy into the athlete he never wanted to be, before now that is. Soon enough he'll never want to leave.

As football season nears its end I figured I'd get one last story out of it! Hope you enjoy this Academic -> QB -> Coach TF! Best! -Occam

“Jeremiah eh? Can I call ya Jere?”

“I’d um, rather you didn’t sir.” 

Jeremiah was less than thrilled about visiting the university’s head football coach to ask for a job, but when the tutoring program he was basically running for the university was shut down he was left with little other choice. The overworked clerk in charge of the school’s work-study program barely allowed him sit down before ushering him over to the stadium. Something about the coach Jeremiah didn’t even know the name of needing an assistant.

Staring at the burly man he now knows as Coach Decker, Jeremiah can scarcely believe he let the mousy bookkeeper strongarm him into meeting with the coach. Had he paid more attention at the work-study office perhaps he would have noticed just how frantic the clerk was, as if his neck were on the line had Jeremiah not gone. At any rate, Jeremiah clearly needs to work on his willpower, and what better chance than running calmly walking away from the beyond intimidating coach right now. 

Speaking of the man, Coach Decker scratches his beard as he looks at the neat resume in his hands. Looking up to sneer at the applicant he sees Jeremiah smile docilely as the will to puff out his chest and flee immediately vacates. The coach, seeing this as supplication, switches to a hungry grin and drops the resume to the table, “Have a seat Jerry, would ya?”

Jeremiah hesitates though acquiesces, instead choosing to focus on the assigned nickname once more, “Would you mind just calling me by my full name Coach Decker? I’d like to keep our relationship strictly business and I feel like treat-” Decker raises his hand to cut Jeremiah off. “Oh worry not lad. Trust. I won’t be having you do anything you don’t want to do.”

There’s some bizarre glimmer in the older man’s eyes that Jeremiah neglects to make a deal of as Decker directs his attention to a small bowl filled with snacks in front of him, “Why don’t you have a treat lad.” 

“Oh I don’t know Sir-” The coach clicks his tongue and Jeremiah almost flinches, “I insist, Jeremiah. And while we’re on the subject of names let’s cut this Sir shit out. Call me Coach.”  Jeremiah nods in agreement and shakily reaches to grab some protein bar he doesn’t recognize from the bowl, averting his eyes as to not meet the stare of the man. Yet, he still feels the burning gaze as he unwraps the bar and takes the first bite.

Jeremiah isn’t quite sure what happens after that. He blinks and suddenly Coach is laughing. The student smiles to pretend he understands whatever Decker is laughing at as the coach reclines and throws legs on the desk, scuffing up his neat resume underfoot. The younger man feels he should be bothered by this blatant disrespect, but he simply sits in a daze.

“Glad you enjoyed it Jez hah! The boys all love those things. But anyway, back to the interview eh? What made you wanna sign up to be an assistant coach?” Jeremiah’s eye twitches as he hears Coach refer to him as Jez. But then, it’s what he’s always gone by, right?

The overtures of a headache begin as he tries to recall if that is indeed, but he shakes it off. Stupid to get hung up on that, not like Coach’ll call him by something he doesn’t want to be called. Better to just go with the flow, trust the man. In fact, he now vaguely recalls his mom whining when he first started going by Jez. Which obviously only made him want to go by it more. He exhales a quiet laugh as he remembers.

It’s at this moment he takes heed of the second half of Coach’s statement, assistant coach? Finding his mouth dry from devouring the protein bar he clears his throat and speaks up, “Sorry, Coach I thought I was just going to be your personal assistant?”

Decker doesn’t try to hide the smile on his face as he pretends to think, “hmmm no no son. You came in to be a real part of the team didn’t ya? Not some pen-pushing pansy.” Jez’s eyes glaze and Coach watches as his words begin to sink in. “You were just sayin’ how much you love the sport, boy.”

Love the sport? Does he? For the life of him Jez can’t remember having watched one game all the way through. He’d never, uh. And then like a wave, Coach’s words wash over him- through him.

Of course he has. He’s always been a fan of their team though for sure, he bleeds orange and white. What’s possibly more important than watching his team curbstomp. Memories of helping out his mother in the kitchen on Thanksgiving burn like old film as he recalls broing out with his dad and brothers in the living room. 

 Like he’d be any help in the kitchen anyway, hah! His hands are good for nothin’ besides catching- uh. No, no he’s never played. He’s just a fan. Jez furrows his brow as he adjusts to his new memories. Clear recollections of scowling at his dad for shouting when his team scores are wiped and replaced by his own screaming alongside the man, screaming even louder.

Under his breath he whispers, “just a fan.” Some fight in him yet as some subconscious self-preservation sees the changes occurring and understands what Coach Decker is going to do next. This only excites the coach more, he knows Jez doesn’t stand a chance, but even this petty struggle will help heighten the severity of his upcoming transformation. Let’s see what a stud he’ll be able to mold.

“Well now Jez I wouldn’t say you’re just a fan. Hardly any of your classmates near the dedication you got to our team!” Jez’s eyes half return from vacancy, the sound of his sucking up drool fills the office as he speaks up, “my uh, dedication?”

Knowing he has Jez on tenterhooks he pauses to truly perfect his next attack on the man’s reality, “Well yeah Jez! Not anyone’s just up and switch their majors to be a better athlete.”

True alertness arrives to the younger man’s expression, eyes quiver with what can only be fear. Coach wonders if he’s stepped too far, too quickly. “I- I don’t believe I did do that S- Coach?” Even as he disputes the man, Decker watches as his will is enacted.

He certainly paid no mind to what Jez, Jeremiah, was wearing when he walked in, but he could be sure it wasn’t athletic wear. Coach looks down from the man’s pained expression too late to see his pale legs revealed as his dress pants shift to cheap shorts. He almost laughs as his button up sews shut and shades to their school colors.

“Well if ya so Jez,” Coach does little to disguise his intentions, “now what did you say your major was again?” His face drops as a pit develops in his stomach, “it’s engi-erk” he gags as he tries to speak it allowed. Gulping he tries again and is totally unable to say engineering. 

He gasps and reaches for a drink on the coach’s desk to avert choking on his words. Throat wet with some electrolyte-ridden concoction, an idea worms its way to the foreground of his mind: as if he’d waste time learning the best way to stack blocks. Fuck that noise- he followed the same path Decker did way back when, a B.A. in Sports Management.

Mind over matter, Coach smirks as he sees the man truly begin to be molded by sheer suggestion. Eyes narrow under thickening brows. Jez speaks up with a thicker baritone now rife with vocal fry, “uhhh, ‘s that a joke coach? You gave me the rec letter for the program?” Glasses no longer sit right on his face as it slowly begins to square out. 

Coach guffaws and pats his meaty though, “Hah! Just pullin’ your leg champ! How could I not know your schedule, basically made it for ya every semester after all,” he pauses to let the words sink in. Jez tilts his head and adjusts how he sits, unfamiliar with how to rest in a body on the precipice of change, “given you’re my star player.”

What happens next is too impossible for Jez to even begin to remain cognizant of, Coach Decker however watches with delight. The man still reclining rubs his thigh and adjusts his pants as he sees Jez shaped to be the perfect stud QB.

Images of drills throughout almost a decade of play invade his mind as the sound of his, once dressy, now tennis shoes shredding to tatters resounds. His feet become unto paddles that allow him to tear down the field, toes stretch and soles widen to propel a man much larger than himself into brutal action. A trove of curls grow across its top as it grows indeed large enough to hold the brute he is to become.

Jez has always been partial to a man’s legs and would surely lust for the trunks that he seems to be growing. His mind is thankfully absent as calves seize, flexing and bulging into what can only be described as ham hocks. Scars from a few minor surgeries hide under the new furry forest of hair as in his mind he recalls training with a furor to recover and ensure he never had to spend time off the field again.

This is all well and good, but now his mind and body move into the real meat of the matter. Eyes twitch though remain glazed over as the trail of hair racing up his new bulky thighs reaches his hips. Even lost in the delirium of his changing mind, he bites his lip and still unchanged hands cannot help but reach towards his cock as he feels the most oppressive changes yet begin.

Jeremiah was never much of a size queen, nor was he ever emasculated by his average cock. And now, Jez is more concerned with the asses of other men, men he was more than happy to dominate on and off the field. Though one look at his own cock was more than enough to get him harder than anything. Rapidly it fills the jockstrap his briefs had become, and just as quickly as his pants tear through his cheap athletic shorts does his cock burst from its containment.

Pubes blanket it from every angle as they race across his inner thigh and cover his needy balls pulsing heavier. His hands struggle to grasp the dick as it surges harder and twitches girthier as thick veins travel up the length and pump it larger with every racing beat of his heart. 

Opposite his immaculate cock grows an ass he would have killed to have in his past life. Likewise his increasingly impressive cheeks refuse to be hidden by his shredded shorts. Bursting free from the frayed pants his new ass forces him to sit higher in the seat as it packs on the exorbitant weight needed to stick out from thighs so impressive, and buoy a core excessively powerful. Curls decorate his rounded ass like a peach as it fills out to a degree that even straight men will find it hard to not appreciate.

Speaking of filling out, his stomach rumbles as it too begins to grow to become his most powerful asset on the field. Joining force with his tree-trunk thighs and racing ahead of bulging biceps to-be, abs burst onto his torso as a treasure trail traces up towards his chest. Already altered memories of his watching the football team shift to insert himself into the massive shoes of the QB. 

Body hair races across his form as a harbinger of the growth that is yet to come. Every pore begs to display his masculinity and his rapidly increasing testosterone is more than happy to let this be the case. His pits and face race to fill with hair dense enough that sunlight could never break through as he gropes at the heavy balls aiding and abetting his changing mind. As hair continues to spread his growing strength is soon to follow.

His hands depart from his quivering cock to instead feel his new cobblestoned core before they are to be evermore covered up as his waist bulks up to give him the strength needed to be a powerhouse. Memories of striving to do his best in various academic contests and electives evaporate as all his free time instead pours into days at the gym and hours upon hours of studying tapes and techniques to excel at the game. He distinctly remembers staring at his impressive form in the mirror, getting off to his six-pack and feeling up the heavy pecs that lie above them, he was, is, irresistible.

His stomach begins to bloat as pecs pile onto his chest. “Gonna need to put on some pounds if you wanna play in the big leagues boy.” Jez creates new memories all by himself of his years training under Coach Decker. Sitting there he grunts as his hands are pushed by a torso trading definition for pure power as his chest grows to hold arms as strong as pistons. In his mind’s eye Jez sees himself throwing a ball down a field under the watchful eye of Coach. With his current arms he sees them max out a throw of not even fifty yards. Seeing the grimace on Coach’s face he grits his teeth. He must be better. The empty stadium is filled with the sound of his biceps bursting the sleeves of his shirt, muscle summoned from nothing as he hurls the ball well past the end of the field. He needs to do more. Better.

New footballs appear in his rough hands as soon as the last is sent rocketing down the field. Each one further and faster than the one that came before. His eyes are filled with determination as his mind loses the care to focus on anything but hurling with efficiency towards men who aren’t there. With each hurling sphere his biceps progressively pack on more power, more strength. Thick veins travel down the radius of them before they are joined by a litany of pulsing others trailing from every angle as hair thickens up from his forearm to hopefully meet with the sweaty garden teeming in his pits.

Coach’s laughter echoes through the empty stadium as it blares in every corner of Jez’s mind. The new athlete goes to wipe his sweaty brow and is caught off-guard as he feels the scratchy hairs on his wrist rub against his wider forehead and thicker eyebrows. He grunts in confusion and then grabs at his own throat as it produces a sound, “whuh?” duller and dumber than he’d ever produce. At least in an uhh, interview?

Looking around he almost goes into shock as he seems to be standing on a football field. Hyperventilating he goes to steady his breathing, pushing at his chest only to find his hand bump up against pecs too large to be possible. Dreading what he is to see if he looks down, he does so anyway and falls backwards in shock as he sees what has become of his bookish body. And then, just as soon as the subconscious paltry remains of Jeremey awakens, he finds himself sitting opposite Coach again in the office.

Struck with a powerful headache he groans and rubs at his forehead as his hair pulls into a choppy look. He mumbles in his fried voice, “ughh what’d I drink last night Coach?” Decker laughs again as he prepares the final assault on his new player’s mind, “Well Jez, after winning the big game I’m sure you drank half of what the bar had Hah!” Jez’s eye twitches as his jaw squares out and his stomach bloats just a tad more.

“Now that you’ve graduated though I’m sure you’re off to the big leagues huh?” The rusty gears in Jez’s hungover mind struggle to understand what he means, when did he graduate? Half-drooling he wipes his mouth and scratches his forearm on facial hair that has evolved from messy stubble to something intentional. He’d never abandon his team, his Coach. Seeing his brows furrow in as deep a thought as he can muster, Decker speaks up, “Well if you wanna stay Jez, you’ll need a few more years under your belt. That’s for sure.”

Jez’s pulse quickens with excitement as he looks back at the coach, he can be Coach’s right hand man. The chair he sits in groans as he puts on weight from a few years of playing the sport from the sidelines. Behind Coach the trophy recently summoned from Jez’s victory is joined by a couple others from his years coaching QB’s at Decker’s side.

A few premature greys dot his beard and hairline as his figure continues to fill out. He loses a bit of speed but his strength stays steady as the years working out alongside his team keep him ever-honing his own form, muscle tediously maintained and defined by his slowly increasing years. Seeing him near the end of his transformation Coach scratches his own beard, “How old’re you now kid?” 

The once university senior again struggles through his foggy mind, “OH! Uhhh twenty-” No that can’t be right, looking down at his tanned hands on thick thighs. He’s gotta be at least thirty something right? Seeing his confusion Decker moves on, he’s been scrambled enough, “Ah don’t worry kid, we’ll work out the details later. Gotta finish this interview and all. So, Jez, you still interested in bein’ my Offensive Coordinator?”

The heart of the younger coach skips a beat, facing burning with blush under a beard rising higher on his face. “M-ME?” His chest pumps larger yet with pride as his whole form almost vibrates with excitement. Fuck it feels like he’s 22 again! Suddenly he’s standing, his meaty hands pounded on Decker’s desk as the head coach reaches out for a shake.

Jez feels more fulfillment than he ever thought possible as he shakes Coach’s hand. Brings him back to holding that first trophy in his hands. Even further back to committing to play QB for Decker, his parents proudly standing to his side. He can’t wait to see where the team’s going next under his tutelage. 

The new offensive coordinator feels Decker’s heavy arm around his massive shoulders. Looking down at the man he would’ve sworn was taller he smiles and deepens his newly earned smile lines. Decker pats the sweaty man on his back, “and to think! You just wanted to be my assistant!” The pair share a hearty laugh as Jez doesn’t quite understand what he’s implying, “Psh- Sure Coach, as if I’d do that chicken-shit work!” The pair head off laughing to greet the team and announce Jez’s new position.  

P.S. If you're interested in some more football TF's check out HairyJockTf's Artist to Athlete, which uses the penultimate image of this story quite superbly!

[plaidcowboy]

છ rafe’s not the jealous type

“man, where’s the rest of it, huh?” rafe brought the bottle to his lips, knocking back the rest of its contents, setting it down on the table beside him.

he looked over to the guy that spoke. he didn’t feel like playing with the guy, so he cut to it. “you see anymore than that?”

the guy’s gaze turned from you to rafe. he chuckled hesitantly. “nah.. that’s what i’m liking” he smirked.

“i like it too.. i told her it looks pretty before we made our way out” rafe watched you mingle with others, giggling at what someone told you.

the guy stilled. “oh.. didn’t know that was yours.. didn’t know she was anyone’s being out looking like that” he tried to keep up the bro talk.

rafe shrugged. “she’s wearing what she wants to” rafe responded, bored of the conversation. he had no problem with any revealing clothes you may wear. you liked it. rafe liked whatever you liked, sometimes even more than you. that’s all there was to it.

“i would just watch out for guys that’ll look.. i know i am” he kept up the smirk.

rafe shook his head, amused with the guy. “look, sure, i know how good she looks. you wouldn’t be able to do anything else”

rafe grinned as you turned a little to show off your dress to someone. why not show it off? he was proud when you flaunted yourself because you deserved it if it wasn’t coming from him.

he was used to people commenting on your looks and making suggestive comments. people admire pretty things, it’s nothing new. you were all his pretty thing. no one else’s.

touching though, was something else. you wouldn’t mess with a pretty painting at a gallery. it’s disrespectful to the owner.

he avoided violence in front of you. and what better way to solve disputes than with words instead of fists.

“that wasn’t so respectful, was it? to me or her”

they would shake their heads silently.

“right.. so it’s only right you apologize. it made her uncomfortable, and i don’t like that. a sorry would make her feel better”

they would stutter. “uh.. i’m sorry..”

“nah” rafe would suck his teeth, shaking his head. “repeat after me.. ma’am, it was disrespectful of me to touch something so pretty i wasn’t worthy of touching.. i’ll be more respectful towards women”

they would relay the apology.

rafe would turn to you, waiting for your forgiveness or rejection. whichever you felt, rafe did as well. it wasn’t his position to choose for you, he wasn’t the lady who received unwanted interactions. he knew this, so how these situations would go was always up to you.

you would look up at rafe, speaking to him rather than the other person. “it’s okay”

rafe would look at them. “say thank you”

or

you would look up at rafe, softly shaking your head.

rafe would look at the guy. “i don’t accept either. get out of her face.”

you skipped over to rafe and he slightly bent down, ready to hear whatever you seemed excited to share.

“rafe, this girl just called my dress pretty” you said, giddily, twisting yourself and the dress.

rafe smiled. “did she? that’s nice of her..”

rafe looked at the guy. “you have anything to say about the dress?”

you turned to the guy expectantly, excited to receive another compliment.

“uh..” the guy shook his head, suddenly awkward. “nah”

rafe frowned. “nah man, you just had so much to say” rafe didn’t repeat his words, not wanting to upset you. whenever he could keep you from hearing the unsettling comments made about you, he would. nothing could dim your happiness when you were with him.

the guy glanced away, scoffing.

“why don’t you just apologize. save her from getting mad at you”

the guy rolled his eyes. “nah man, i’m good..” rafe stopped him, grabbing his arm when he tried to walk away.

“that wasn’t a request”

the guy gulped, glancing over at you. “look, my bad..”

rafe tsk’d, shaking his head. he gave him the prompt, telling him to repeat the words. he did, and rafe turned to you, awaiting your response.

you looked up at rafe with eyes. “um.. should i?” you weren’t ever aware what the guy said after all.

“nah, baby, that’s all up to you”

you glanced between the two in front of you. “it’s fine”

rafe turned to the guy.

“say thank you.”

[earthchica]

why don't we fall in love?

aaron pierre x black, fem! reader {actress}

summary: you have a massive crush on your best friend and co-star, Aaron. When you tell him about your feelings, he respectfully wants to stay as friends, but he soon realizes that it might have been a mistake.

warnings: FLUFF, friends to lovers, first-time kissing, light angst, rejection, actor/actress, not real life, movie set, original characters, use of Y/N, words: 2k

note: I was so anxious about writing this, but here it is..it's something short and sweet. Let me know if I should do part 2; please enjoy, but there may be some errors.

-

The neon lights flickered playfully above the packed venue, casting a warm glow on the faces of the cast and crew celebrating the halfway-through wrap-up of the film.

Laughter echoed as glasses clinked, the atmosphere electric with relief and joy. In the corner, you leaned against the bar, swirling your drink, your mind caught between the celebration and anxiety that's been building for weeks.

“Girl, go talk to him!” Your co-star, Tess, nudged you with a playful grin, her voice slightly slurred from the champagne. “This is your chance! You can't keep waiting forever.”

You have known Aaron for two and a half years and have worked alongside him on three movies, including this one. You both have become close friends and developed a strong connection.

You glanced at Aaron, his tall, muscular frame standing out among the crowd. His light caramel skin glowed under the lights, and he calmly recounted a story, laughter spilling from his lips like music.

The way he commanded the attention of everyone around him made your heart race. “I don't know, Tess… what if he doesn’t feel the same?” You replied, biting your lip, the remnants of your country accent softening your words.

“Please! He looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. Just go for it!” She insisted, raising her glass in encouragement. Taking a deep breath, you let the liquid courage settle in your veins and headed over to him.

The closer you got, the more your heart beat against your ribcage. Aaron caught sight of you, his eyes lighting up in recognition, and he stepped away from his group, his smile widening.

“Well, if it ain't the beauty of all this party!” Aaron said teasingly, his deep british voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

“Hey, Aaron,” You started your voice with a delicate mix of sweetness and nerves, looking around at the party. “Can we chat for a minute? Somewhere a bit quieter?”

His eyes were still on you, and he nodded with a light smile. “Of course,” Aaron replied, his brow furrowing slightly with curiosity as he led you to a more secluded corner.

As the music faded into the background, you felt both exhilaration and trepidation surge within you. “So, I’ve wanted to tell you…for a long time that...”

You paused, gathering the courage that felt so difficult to muster. “I really like you, Aaron. Like, a lot.” You said, and Aaron looked down at you with admiration, surprise, and something else.

“Wow. I…I’m flattered…Y/N Really. You’re amazing, you know that? and I care deeply about you.” Aaron started, and you felt your heart sink slightly, but his tone was gentle and respectful.

“But...uh...I see you as my dear friend, and right now, I don’t think it’s the right time for me to get involved with anyone.” Aaron said honestly.

“Oh!” You murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you fought to conceal your disappointment. A delicate smile played on your lips, masking the tsunami of emotions churning within.

“I completely understand; it’s just that I've been holding on to these feelings for you, and I wanted to tell you," You admitted, glancing down at your fidgeting hands briefly, feeling vulnerable under the weight of your honesty.

As if sensing your uneasiness, Aaron gently squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, a reminder of the connection you both shared.

"Hey….I hope this doesn’t change anything between us.” Aaron said softly, his voice steady and comforting. His words hung in the air, filled with hope and concern.

"It won't, Aaron I promise." With a nod, you tried to shake off the feeling of rejection, forcing yourself to enjoy the remainder of the party.

-

The days turned into weeks, and you and Aaron continued to share a platonic friendship filled with laughter, deep conversations, and mutual respect.

You reveled in the banter and effortless moments spent together, both on set and off. Lately, however, Aaron has noticed a change. You seemed to be spending more time with Kenny, a castmate.

On one scorching afternoon during a break in filming, you found yourself in your trailer with Kenny. As the sun blazed outside, you and Kenny were sprawled on the floor of your trailer, giggling and pretending to throw punches at each other.

In between bouts of laughter, Kenny leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hey, have you talked to Aaron lately?” he teased, smirking.

“You two are a soap opera waiting to happen.” You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a grin. “Kenny, chill! I’ve told you before, stop with the Aaron jokes!”

Kenny feigned shock, his mouth dropping open in disbelief. “Wait, why? I thought you were all lovey-dovey with him now. Didn’t you tell him how you felt?”

Sighing, you leaned back against the couch. “Well, I did, and.....it turns out he doesn’t feel the same way. So…yeah.”

Kenny’s eyes widened in surprise. “No way! For real? That’s so lame, he's a lame!” He threw his hands up dramatically, exaggerating the situation.

“Hey! Don’t say that about him; he's not a lame!” You exclaimed, playfully smacking his shoulder.

"Sorry, friend! Look at you, taking up for him; you down bad," Kenny said with a chuckle, returning the light hit without missing a beat, grinning even more expansively.

"You're gonna stop talking shit." You laughed, shaking your head, and both of you began playfully wrestling, ending up on top of him. There was a knock on your trailer door.

You didn't hear the voice over you laughing and just told them to come in. The door opened, and there stood Aaron, staring at you and Kenny in a position that could be taken out of context.

Your smile faded as you processed his expression. Instantly, you pushed yourself off Kenny, your instincts urging you to create distance.

Aaron's gaze was intense on Kenny, and he sensed the tension in the air. "Uh…I think that's my cue to leave; I'll see ya later, Y/N," Kenny said quickly, excusing himself.

Kenny hurried away, eager to escape the charged atmosphere, leaving you with a whirlwind of feelings and an unsettling silence that hung heavy in the air.

“Aaron…” You started, hoping to explain to him but you really didn't have to because you weren't his. Aaron cleared his throat, the frown deepening as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I need to talk to you...” His voice was firm, potentially masking a vulnerability you could sense but couldn’t pinpoint. You nodded, waiting for Aaron to settle into whatever he wanted to say.

“I’ve been watching you and Kenny, and it’s been real hard just to watch,” Aaron said with his brow still furrowed, and you could see the conflict in his eyes.

“I know I told you I see you as my friend, but that doesn't mean I don't have feelings for you.” Aaron started, and your heart raced, feeling a mix of surprise and something you couldn’t quite place.

“What do you mean, Aaron?” You asked softly, your sweet southern accent tinged with concern. You were trying to get a better understanding of what he meant.

“I mean…I’ve been trying to ignore it, but I can’t anymore. I like you, and it’s not just a little. When I saw you and Kenny together, it stung.” His voice was deep, resonating with sincerity and frustration.

"It made me realize how ridiculous it would be to pass up on such an amazing experience of being with you." His honesty hung heavy in the air between you. You felt your cheeks warm, your heart battling hope and confusion.

“That's sweet, and If it makes you feel any better, Kenny and I are just friends…we were joking around, but I thought you didn’t want anything serious right now.”

Aaron took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours as the weight of his feelings hung between you. “It’s complicated,” he replied with frustration.

“I’ve always valued our friendship, but when I thought of you with someone else, I realized that what I feel runs deeper,” Aaron added; you felt a rush of conflicting emotions.

You were thrilled to hear him express this, but another part felt cautious. “I appreciate you telling me how you feel, Aaron, but I guess I need more convincing,” you said, barely above a whisper.

His gaze softened more as he looked down at you. “I’ve always admired you, Y/N—your kindness, humor, beauty, passion for acting, and everything that makes you great. You make me feel things I never thought I could feel.”

You took a moment to digest his words, the flutter in your chest growing louder. “Wow, Aaron.” A rush of emotions washed over you, disbelief mingling with hope. “Are you serious?”

“Completely,” Aaron stepped closer, his sincerity cutting through the tension. "I want to explore this feeling I have for you. I really would love to take you out on a date.”

The intensity of his conviction hit you like a wave. “You really mean it? You want to try something more?” you asked, searching his eyes for any hint of hesitation.

“Yeah, I do, Y/N,” Aaron affirmed, a quiet resolve settling into his expression. “This may sound cliché, but we could be great together as a couple. I’ve thought about what we could have, and it terrifies me how much I want it.”

A smile blooming across your face, you nodded. “Okay, Aaron. Let's give this a try.” You said, and his expression eased, relief washing over his features.

Aaron reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers in a simple yet profound gesture. “Fantastic. We can take this one step at a time.” He said before lifting his hand to kiss your hand.

-

Your first date with Aaron was perfect, just as you had imagined. While you both were still filming for weeks, you shared moments like lounging together after long days on set. Each of these moments felt increasingly intimate.

You sat cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through your phone on IG, while Aaron leaned back, arms stretched along the top of the small sofa, his gaze focused intently on you.

“Y’know, you look real pretty in that soft light,” Aaron finally said, his deep, british accent fluttering your heart whenever he spoke. You looked up, meeting his soft, light eyes.

“Aaron, you’re just saying that ‘cause you’re sweet on me,” You teased, your southern drawl lacing your voice with a playful charm that made him laugh.

“Maybe I am,” Aaron said with a slightly shy smile creeping onto his face. "Can you blame me? You’ve got that glow about you, babe.”

“It’s this light,” You replied, waving a dismissive hand, but you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter into your chest. “Besides, you know I love it when you compliment me,” you added.

“I mean every word,” Aaron said earnestly, leaning forward slightly as if the distance between you was an invisible barrier he wanted to breach.

“You’re so captivating, it’s hard not to stare,” Aaron whispered; there it was—how he looked at you as if you were the only person in the universe.

It sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You could feel the tension in the air, a beautiful electricity crackling between you both. Aaron's eyes searched yours, his voice lowering.

“I want to kiss you real bad right now,”

You chuckled lightly, feeling warmth across your chest at his admission. “What are you waiting for, then? I’m right here, darlin’, I reckon you could keep up.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Aaron countered. “It’s just…I don’t want to jeopardize doing something that might make you uncomfortable. Not until I’m sure you feel ready.”

Your heart raced at the mix of his shyness and honesty. “Aaron, no need to overthink it, I'm ready.” With that, the tension in the room shifted.

You locked eyes, and the playful teasing ebbed into something more profound. Aaron leaned slightly closer, his eyes darting between your lips and your eyes, the desire palpable in the air.

“I…I’m glad to hear that, Y/N,” Aaron murmured, his voice thick with relief. “It makes the idea of a kiss less terrifying.”

“Babe, you act like this is your first time kissing...there's no need to think about it too much,” you encouraged, a smile blooming on your lips, your heart racing in anticipation.

“Now, come here and kiss me already.” Aaron’s nervous laughter filled the space as he moved closer, his large hands gently resting on your waist.

The way he respected your space yet tried to close it felt like a dance—a delicate balance between desire and respect. He paused just a breath away, his warm breath mingling with yours.

“You’re sure about this?” Aaron asked, still looking back and forth between your eyes and your lips. “Come here,” You whispered, your voice thick with conviction.

In a heartbeat, the distance vanished. His plump lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative at first, as though he were afraid he’d break the spell that had settled between you.

But the kiss deepened, a flood of emotions swirling around as those initial nerves gave way to something beautiful, something real. His hands tangled in your curly hair as yours reached his strong shoulders, grounding you both in the moment.

It felt like the universe had shifted, aligning in a way that was meant to be. As you pulled away slightly, both of you breathless, you couldn’t help but laugh softly, your hearts buzzing with the thrill of what had just happened.

“Well, that was definitely worth the wait,” you said, beaming with delight as a broad smile spread across your face. The excitement from the moment lingered in the air around you.

“Indeed it was,” Aaron replied, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looked at you, clearly sharing in your delight. The warmth in his gaze made your heart flutter.

“This is just the beginning, isn’t it?” you asked, your voice brimming with excitement and curiosity. As you leaned forward, your eyes sparkled with the thrill of the possibility of wanting more than just a kiss.

“Yes, it is,” Aaron responded with a look of desire, like his Gemini twin switch, and you could feel your whole being swell with arousal and excitement for what lay ahead.

part 2???

[revelboo]

I love your waspinator fic so much. I can't stop rereading it every chance I get, I love the ugly puppy so much.

He’s a sweetheart

Worker Bee Pt 14

Waspinator x Reader

• Shifting as a faint buzzing hum thrums through you until you feel it in your bones, it takes a moment to realize you fell asleep sandwiched between the back of the couch and Waspinator. And he’s purring. All you can see is the mesh of his neck and his mandibles lazily shifting. Realizing the broken one is back in alignment when you push back against the couch to see and cautiously reach to touch him. Startling when those mandibles gently snag your fingers and hold on.

• Coming online, his head dips so he can see you nestled against him safe and warm. His bigger frame shielding you. Letting go of your fingers when you hesitantly smile, his wings flare back, stretching. “You healed yourself.” Had half thought he’d dreamed it, that he hadn’t actually made it back to you and was still lying in the snow hurt. Maybe dying. But you’d really found him, he hadn’t just imagined you calling his name. “Who did this? Those others like you?”

• Wiggling against you, he scoots down the couch some, and his legs had to have been hanging over the arm already. But you can see his wide optics now, going still when he leans his head against you and his antennae brush over your hair. “Always hurt Waspinator,” he murmurs, mandibles whispering against your lips and cheek. It’s the matter of fact, dismissive tone to the words that snag you. Like it’s nothing. Reminding you of the night you’d found him, both of you terrified the other was going to hurt you. He’d cowered away from you even though he was much bigger. Like he was so used to pain, he expected it. Very different to how relaxed he is now, feeling him drape an arm against you, clawed servos stroking the middle of your back. Still having no sense of personal space, but oddly you don’t mind anymore. Just so resigned and used to him, that it might as well be normal.

• “Well, I won’t hurt you,” you say and he brushes his mandibles against you again, relaxed and content. Because this is home, not the Nemesis. Not the Decepticons. You. Freezing when you reach up to carefully touch his face. Have you ever willingly touched him instead of shying away? “You scared me. I thought you were dead out there.”

• And you’d felt horrible, remembering all the times you’d gotten annoyed with him. Turning away when he’d reached out for you. Wanting attention and lonely. But you’d ignored him, hadn’t you? It’s not like he wants much, just a kind hand, someone to want him around. “Waspinator scared,” he replies, optics shuttering as your heart aches for him. “Thought wouldn’t see little friend again.” Wanting to do better, to not push him away. He’s annoying, but so sweet and harmless.

Previous

[prettynpinkputhy]

Boyfriend Rafayel 🎨

WarningMDNI⚠️: Language, sexual themes, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, breeding etc

🐠Synopsis: your boyfriend Rafayel loves to tease you.

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“You’re very cute like this.” Rafayel’s warm breath fans your cheek as he pins you to the mattress. He hovers over you, still buried to the hilt inside your swollen drooling heat. You’d just finished one round and he couldn’t bring himself to pull out because it “felt like home”. His hips swirl, churning your now mixed fluids inside you. He smirks as he sees a faint rosy blush tint your nose.

“Don’t tease me.” You pout. His slender delicate fingers press into your side, sliding up your body slowly till they cup your bare tit. He chuckles against your neck, the sound vibrating in your ear like a sweet melody.

“You make it hard not too, Angel fish” his purple strands tickle your forehead as he props up on his arms above you. Your eyes are drawn to the way his muscles tense as he holds this position with ease. Despite being an artist his body was defined and chiseled. From his broad shoulder to the light six pack indented against your stomach. “You’re checking me out? If you do that I might get excited again.” He pushes into you with a lazy thrust.

You whine, linking your fingers around his neck and legs around his waist. Your hips wiggle, soaked pussy fluttering around his semi-hard length. You feel it twitch at your subtle movements. A soft breathy moan escapes rafayels lips.

“You’re not playing fair, you know.” He shifts to lock his arms under your knees, using his weight to press into you fully. His growing cock drags against the slick gummy walls of your tight channel as he withdrawals to the tip. Even after being fucked once, you were still like a vice around his sensitive dick. He pulses his pelvis back and forth, fucking your entrance with his thick mushroomed head. Your eager needy hole clamps desperately trying to pull his teasing cock back in.

“If you want it that badly, I’ll be nice.” With a grunt he slams back inside with punishing pressure. You gasp and scratch at the smooth skin of his back.

“Rafa, fuck s’deep I can’t!” You cry out.

His breath huffs out in small labored pants as he pistons into your squelching hot cavern. He growls and sits up on his knees. His hard strokes never decelerate as he switches positions. Sweat sticks his hair to his forehead and trails down his neck as he ruts into you like his only purpose in life is to knock you up.

“Can’t hold back, sorry cutie. Fuck, feels too good” the veins in his hands pop as he rocks your body back and forth on his painfully hard cock. He’s light headed as his heart pumps twice as fast. His violet eyes are low with lust as he watches your body ripple beneath him with every hard thrust of his hips. You cover your face in embarrassment as he gropes every part of you he can get his hands on.

“S-stop this is too embarrassing Rafa.” You whimper—Your hands going up to cover your face. He grabs your wrist firmly and yanks them away.

“I want to see all the pretty faces you make. Your body is a work of art, don’t hide it from me.” He drops your legs to palm at your bouncing breast. His fingertips flick and tug on the hard tight peaks, making your eyes roll back.

“I’m feeling inspired for a new painting. I love having my own personal muse to stuff full of my cock.” His engorged cock head beats into the spongy sensitive spot deep inside your battered pussy. Your head falls back into the pillows as you half sob with pleasure. “No not there! We have to stop…I-I feel like I’m gonna pee!-“ he doesn’t stop. Instead he spreads your creamy folds and rubs tight fast circles around your stiff clit.

Your thighs quake as he impales you over and over on his rock solid manhood, ogling at the sight of your pussy icing his cock like the sweetest pastry. His pupils dilate as he watches the faces you make, knowing he’s the only one that can make you feel this way.

“Don’t hold back, let it go baby.” He coos, redoubling his efforts. As if on command your pussy squirt clear milky fluid like a geyser, soaking the bed and sheets below. The hot shower of your arousal undoes Rafayel and his cock explodes thick hot jets of semen directly into your womb. His face scrunches, body tenses with the force of his release—he can���t utter a word, only strained groans and pants fall from his lips. His head hangs in exhaustion, a thin sheen of sweat on his ivory skin.

“Round three?” He offers breathlessly, a cheeky smirk tugged to his lips.