#you're not going to like everything about anyone

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ boxer!jungkook⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist closed

boxer jk x neuro doctor oc

post fight vibes

meet cute

note: possibly a mini series but idk

after his home and the ring; jungkook's third home is the hospital.

yet, one thing he will never get used to are the bright lights. 

fuck. 

they’re always so fucking bright.

it doesn’t matter if he’s in for nearly busting his brain or if he’s just here for a casual IV drip—each time, the lights are insanely bright.

the hospital room is too white too. 

too sterile for someone like him.

his eyes flicker down to his knuckles. they’re split and bruised, resting against his stomach, rising and falling with each slow breath. his lip is cut, swollen at the corner, and when he rolls his shoulders back, he winces—just slightly—like he's trying not to show it.

suddenly, the doors burst open and his head turns towards it. 

you walk in. 

navy blue scrubs, white doctors coat, and your hair is tied high and back. 

it’s… love at first sight. 

your cheeks are so perfect. that’s the first thing he notices about you. they have this puff that makes him wonder if anyone has ever complimented you on them. next, are your lips. they’re perfectly shaped—so kissable. maybe he’s just that fucked in the head but everything about you looks so perfect. like your eyes are the exact size they need to be. you button nose where your glasses sit so cutely… 

god help him. 

maybe he got beat up a little too much this match. 

jungkook swallows drly as you approach him. you pull out the scans and show him on the monitor. you glance at them and then at him. for a moment, you’re silent and he doesn’t know if he should be saying anything. 

should he introduce himself? 

better yet, can you introduce yourself?

"you're concussed," you say simply.

jungkook blinks at you, like he was expecting more. 

"that bad?"

"you've had worse." you say it simply as you click on the monitor and pull out old scans from months ago. your eyes widen as you look through the ones from the past 3 years. pausing at one scan from 2019, you use your pen to gesture around the areas where he’s been concussed before. “this old one? probably your worst one.” 

he huffs out a laugh, shifting in his seat. 

"my brain is still here, though. couldn’t have been that bad, huh?"

you don’t humor the joke. 

"debatable."

his grin widens, even through the soreness. "harsh, doctor…”

“doctor ___.” 

“___,” he breathes. “that’s pretty.”

“doctor ___.” you correct.

“right,” jungkook folds. then, the moment shifts. he can’t help but blurt; “... you sure you're not just mad you had to sub in for my usual guy?"

"not mad," you say, flipping through his chart. "just not impressed."

he laughs again, low and raspy, like this whole thing is funny. like the fractures and bruising on his scans are nothing more than a bad grade on a test.

"aren't you too young to be a doctor?"

you glance at him, raising a brow. 

"aren't you too young to have this many head injuries?"

his smile lingers, but he doesn’t say anything for a beat like he's trying to come up with a clever response. like he's trying to read you.

"did you win?" you ask instead.

"huh?"

"your fight."

his grin flickers—surprise, maybe. or amusement. 

"yeah. of course."

you nod, flipping the chart closed. 

"is it worth it?"

he tilts his head, the movement slow. calculated. like he's trying to see if you're serious. truth be told, he can’t read you. not your tone or your facial expression. it intrigues him… how could someone be so warm and so cold at the same time? you’re lukewarm… but it’s refreshing. it’s scratches his fucked up brain somehow.

"i'll tell you," jungkook muses, "if you go out with me."

you scoff. 

"that's okay."

he waits.

"some things are worth asking about," you say, pushing your chair back. you stand up and lean over to check over his vitals. as you fix his IV, you squint as you notice his knuckles. for some reason, jungkook suddenly fights to urge to reach for you. his fingers twitch. you see it. you brush it off and say; "some things aren't worth the answer."

you don’t miss the way his lips part slightly, his brows lifting in surprise. 

you don’t stick around to see if he has a follow-up. you grab your clipboard and head towards the door. as you push the door open to leave, you bid him goodbye. 

"rest up, mr. jeon."

the next time jungkook is back, it's not you.

"dr. ___ isn’t in today?" jungkook asks, trying to sound… anything but how it came out.

namjoon doesn’t look up from his notes. 

“you met her?”

“yeah,” he breathes. “can’t get her out of my head ever since.”

namjoon chuckles as he takes out his slit lamp and examines jungkook’s eye movement. as jungkook’s eyes follow the light, nam joon continues;

"why’s that?”

“dunno,” jungkook confesses. 

namjoon can’t take jungkook seriously. he’s never been the type to care about girls since they’ve always come to him one way or another… but knowing you, he should’ve known jungkook would take interest. 

“miss her or something?" nam joon teases. “love at first concussion?”

“not my first concussion… and i was just wondering. shit, man.” jungkook shrugs, trying to move past it. suddenly, he’s embarrassed. 

namjoon hums, like he doesn’t believe him (because he doesn’t).

"she doesn't date patients," namjoon says, flipping a page and writing down notes from jungkook’s checkup. "definitely not ones with a brain like yours."

jungkook blinks. "is it that bad?"

namjoon grins. "she spends her days saving patients who get injured unwillingly. you? boxing? that's a choice. you're her least favorite kind of patient."

"but am i her type?"

namjoon laughs and shakes his head. 

"your brain is fucked up."

when jungkook’s checkup finishes, he says goodbye to namjoon and exits the room. 

then, like fate, he sees you in the hall when he's leaving. you're walking in the opposite direction, clipboard tucked against your hip, eyes scanning over charts.

jungkook doesn’t think. 

he moves.

jungkook catches up to you and taps your shoulder. as you turn your head to respond, he steps forward and in front of you instead. suddenly, you face him.

"you."

you blink up at him, unimpressed. "me."

"i'm not concussed anymore."

"i'm glad,” you smile at him softly before you lower your gaze back to your charts. “have a good day mr. jeon—"

"i won that match," he says, like it's important. like it means something.

you pause.

"i'm a good boxer," he continues, standing taller. "i don’t get injured that much. when you saw me last… i let the guy get in a few hits. whatever… it was for show, i swear to god… but if you go out with me, i promise to always win and never get a head injury ever again."

you stare at him.

he waits.

you exhale, shifting your clipboard to the other hand. then, before he can say anything else, your fingers push into his hair, ruffling it gently.

his breath hitches.

you drop your hand and step past him.

"i think you're still a little concussed," you murmur. 

“i’m not,” jungkook says, voice soft. “one chance.”

you tilt your head at him and for a moment, you really contemplate. his lip looks almost healed. his knuckles are only bruised now… for a moment, you want to give in. 

“do you ever lose?”

he scoffs. “no.”

you nod and begin to slip away. jungkook stands there confused at the growing distance. as you walk away, you tell him; 

“maybe you should learn how to.”

“why? so you can feel better about rejecting me?"

jungkook tilts his head, lips twitching. he lifts his foot to move to you but you shake your head at him. he stops his tracks. cutely, you mimic him and tilt your head too, feigning sympathy. 

"no, so you stop getting concussed."

he grins, sharp and easy. "i told you, i don't get injured that much."

"right… just enough to keep me employed."

his laughter comes quick, like he wasn't expecting that. 

"damn," he mutters, shaking his head. "you got a sharp tongue, doc."

you exhale through your nose, the closest thing to a laugh you’ve given him, and start toward the door. with one hand, you wave him off, like he’s not worth the breath it takes to keep talking.

but just before you step out, jungkook hears you murmur over your shoulder—low, teasing, like you’re indulging him for just a second longer.

"good thing you’re used to taking hits, jeon."

jungkook’s smile lingers long after you’ve disappeared down the hall. for a moment, he contemplates on running after you and continuing to annoy you… and then, for the nth time today… he thinks. 

he’ll be back. 

injured or not—he’s coming back just for you.

[jungwnies]

F1 Grid | valentines day

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerlc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested or not) : spending valentines day with your f1-boyfriend

୨ৎ : genre : romance & fluff ୨ৎ : tws : slight suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 3927

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : happy valentines day to everyone! <3

ʚ・max verstappen

you weren’t expecting much for valentine’s day. it wasn’t that max didn’t love you—he absolutely did—but he wasn’t exactly the grand romantic gesture type. if anything, you were prepared for the day to come and go without so much as a mention.

that is, until christian horner made an offhand comment about how he was taking geri out for a fancy dinner.

“wait, valentine’s day is today?” max blurted, nearly dropping his red bull can.

lando, sitting beside him, snorted. “oh, mate—you’re so screwed.”

max bolted from his seat, leaving his engineer mid-sentence, and disappeared before anyone could even process what had happened.

you were home, lounging in one of max’s oversized hoodies, when your phone started buzzing with frantic texts from him.

max: are you home? max: never mind, you are. stay there. max: actually, don’t move. i’m coming.

you barely had time to process his sudden urgency before you heard the sound of his car pulling into the driveway at breakneck speed. moments later, he burst through the door, slightly out of breath, hair a little messy, and holding… a grocery store bouquet and a bag from a bakery down the street.

“hey,” he panted, trying to act casual but failing miserably. “happy valentine’s day.”

your eyes flicked to the half-crushed bouquet in his grip and then to the bag, which he handled like it contained the secret to world peace.

“did you forget?” you asked, crossing your arms but already grinning.

“no,” he lied. then, with a sigh, “okay, yes, but only because no one told me.”

you giggled, taking the slightly squished flowers from him. “max, the world has been advertising valentine’s day for weeks.”

“yeah, well, i don’t look at pink and red decorations and think oh, i should do something romantic,” he huffed. “but i fixed it, right?”

you peered into the bakery bag, pulling out a heart-shaped pastry, and smiled. “did you at least try it before buying?”

his face turned sheepish. “i got two. ate one on the way home.”

laughing, you tugged him down onto the couch beside you, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “it’s perfect, max. i don’t need anything fancy—just you.”

his shoulders relaxed as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

“… good. because i really did panic-buy the flowers,” he admitted, making you burst out laughing.

he may have been chaotic, but he was your chaos, and honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

from the moment february began, you knew lewis had something planned.

it started when he casually asked you one night, his voice soft but certain, "will you be my valentine?" as if you could possibly say no.

you laughed, setting your book aside. "you're asking me like we haven't been together for years."

"i know," he grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "but you deserve to be asked properly."

and that was just the beginning.

by the time valentine's day arrived, you barely had to lift a finger.

when you woke up, there was a carefully wrapped box sitting on the edge of the bed, a note resting on top in lewis's elegant handwriting:

"good morning, my love. no need to stress about today. i have taken care of everything. wear this and be ready by seven. i will handle the rest. can't wait to see you. always yours, lewis."

you unfolded the tissue paper inside and found an outfit. the outfit. something effortlessly elegant, tailored to your style but with a touch of his own influence. he knew what would make you feel confident, comfortable, and beautiful.

a warmth bloomed in your chest. he had thought of everything.

when seven o'clock arrived, you stepped out of your room and found lewis waiting, looking devastatingly handsome in a custom suit. his eyes swept over you, appreciation lighting them up instantly.

"you look stunning," he murmured, stepping forward to take your hand.

"you picked it," you teased.

"doesn't make it any less true." he brought your fingers to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss there. "ready?"

"always."

the evening was a dream.

lewis had planned a private dinner at a breathtaking rooftop restaurant, candles flickering around you, soft jazz playing in the background. the menu had been curated just for you. your favorite dishes, a wine he knew you loved, even a dessert he had requested specifically because you once mentioned craving it months ago.

it was not just the grandeur of it all. it was him. the way he leaned in when you spoke, completely present. the way he reached across the table, tracing absentminded circles on the back of your hand. the way his eyes never left you, like he was still in awe after all this time.

"you really went all out, didn't you?" you mused, watching as he poured you another glass of wine.

lewis chuckled, shaking his head. "you deserve it. i wanted today to be perfect for you."

you smiled, heart full. "it already was the moment i woke up."

his fingers intertwined with yours, a soft look in his eyes. "i love you, you know."

"i know." you squeezed his hand. "i love you too, lewis."

and as the night carried on, filled with love, laughter, and little stolen kisses, you knew that no matter how much effort he put into the plans, what truly made the night special was simply him.

ʚ・george russell

george had been unusually secretive the past week.

nothing drastic, just little things. hushed phone calls, a knowing smirk when you asked about plans, and the way he would randomly glance at you with a quiet excitement in his eyes.

"you will see," was all he ever said.

and you did.

on valentine's day, just as the sky began to shift into soft hues of pink and orange, george pulled up to a secluded beach with a playful grin on his face.

"i thought we could do something different," he said, reaching over to squeeze your hand before hopping out of the car.

your eyes drifted over the shoreline, the gentle waves rolling in, and the salty breeze kissing your skin. there was no extravagant setup, no overwhelming display. just the sound of the ocean, the warmth of the setting sun, and george beside you, looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

"you planned this?" you asked, smiling as he grabbed a picnic basket from the backseat.

"of course," he said proudly. "i wanted something simple, just us. no distractions, no cameras, no fancy restaurants. just this."

your heart swelled as he led you to a cozy spot where he had set up a blanket in the sand, the basket filled with your favorite snacks and a bottle of wine.

as you sat together, watching the waves roll in, george draped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. "i know it is not much, but i wanted today to be about you and me, not some over-the-top production."

you looked up at him, seeing nothing but sincerity in his eyes. "it is perfect, george."

his lips curved into a soft smile before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "good. because there is nowhere else i would rather be than here with you."

the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the distant sound of the waves lulling you into a peaceful state. at one point, george pulled out his phone and played a song quietly through the speaker, a mellow tune that matched the peaceful ambiance of the beach.

"dance with me?" he asked, holding out his hand.

you let out a small laugh. "there is no music loud enough to dance to."

"we do not need loud music," he said, pulling you up anyway. "just trust me."

and so you did.

you swayed together under the dimming sky, bare feet sinking into the cool sand, his arms wrapped securely around you. it was simple. it was intimate. it was everything you never knew you needed.

as the last bit of sunlight disappeared beyond the horizon, george whispered, "happy valentine's day, love."

resting your head against his chest, you smiled. "happy valentine's day, george."

and in that moment, with nothing but the sound of the waves and the warmth of his embrace, you knew that this was love in its purest form.

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos had always been charming. but tonight, he was on another level.

from the moment he picked you up, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that made him look impossibly handsome, you knew he had something special planned. his smirk was dangerous, the kind that sent warmth through your entire body.

“you look stunning, mi amor,” he murmured, leaning in just a little too close as his lips brushed your cheek. his cologne lingered, warm and intoxicating. “i almost want to skip dinner and keep you all to myself.”

you rolled your eyes, though your heart skipped a beat. “behave.”

“i make no promises,” he teased, leading you to the car.

the restaurant was one of your favorites, a cozy yet elegant spot that carlos had somehow managed to book despite its usual months-long waiting list.

the moment you were seated, he reached across the table, fingers brushing over yours as he gazed at you with that signature, lazy smirk. “i think i am already full just looking at you.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “that was terrible.”

“but did it work?” he asked, lifting your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it slowly, deliberately.

your skin tingled. “maybe a little.”

he grinned. “good.”

throughout dinner, he was extra attentive, making sure you had everything you wanted. his knee brushed against yours under the table, his voice dipped lower whenever he leaned in to whisper something just for you, and his fingers traced light patterns along your wrist whenever he held your hand.

at one point, he tilted his head, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“what?” you asked, smiling.

“nothing,” he murmured, his voice soft but deep. “i just love watching you when you are happy.”

your heart fluttered. “carlos.”

his smirk returned. “what? it is true.” he took a slow sip of his wine, eyes never leaving yours. “besides, i like to remind you how completely, hopelessly in love with you i am.”

your stomach flipped. “you are really pulling out all the stops tonight, huh?”

he leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “only because i know what it does to you.”

your breath hitched. “you are unbelievable.”

he smirked, fingers brushing over yours again. “and yet, you love me anyway.”

you sighed, pretending to be exasperated, but there was no denying the warmth spreading through your chest. “unfortunately.”

carlos chuckled, shaking his head. “i think you mean luckily.”

you looked at him, taking in the way his dark eyes burned with something deeper than just playful flirtation. beneath the teasing, beneath the smooth confidence, there was love. real, undeniable love.

and it was all for you.

as dinner came to an end, he reached for your hand again, tracing slow circles against your palm. “do you want dessert?”

you tilted your head. “are you actually talking about dessert, or is this another one of your lines?”

his lips twitched. “would you be disappointed if it was?”

you shook your head, laughing softly. “no.”

his fingers laced with yours as he brought your hand to his lips once more, voice low and full of promise.

“good.”

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles had monaco at his fingertips. it was beautiful, luxurious, and full of charm, just like him. but when valentine’s day approached, he surprised you with something unexpected.

“we are going to paris,” he had said casually over breakfast, sipping his coffee like he had not just dropped the most romantic idea possible.

your eyes widened. “paris? you live in monaco, one of the most beautiful places in the world, and you’re taking me to paris?”

he smirked, setting his cup down before leaning in. “everyone knows paris is for lovers, mon amour. and i want to spoil you properly.”

and he did.

the moment you landed, you felt the shift.

paris had its own kind of magic, the kind that wrapped around you like a warm embrace. the air smelled of fresh bread and soft rain, the streets alive with quiet charm. charles took your hand effortlessly, like he was meant to hold it, leading you through the city as if he had been born to love it, just as he had been born to love you.

the morning was slow and sweet, starting with a walk along the seine. he held your hand the entire time, stopping occasionally just to press a kiss to your temple, or to murmur something in french that he knew would make you blush.

“say something else,” you teased, smiling up at him.

he leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “tu es la plus belle chose que j’ai jamais vue.”

you shivered at the way his voice dropped, the way his breath was warm against your skin. “and what does that mean?”

he smirked, tugging you just a little closer. “it means you are the most beautiful thing i have ever seen.”

your heart flipped in your chest. “you are too good at this.”

“i am only good at this because it is you.”

he spent the afternoon showing you his favorite hidden spots. a small café tucked away from the crowds, where he ordered for you effortlessly in french, his accent rolling off his tongue like silk. a bookshop near the notre-dame, where he traced his fingers over the spines of old novels, claiming he was looking for something special to remember this trip by.

“i do not need souvenirs,” he said, slipping his arm around your waist. “you are the only thing i want to remember.”

by the time evening arrived, he had one final surprise.

he took you to the eiffel tower just as the sun was setting, the sky painted in soft pinks and golds. as the lights flickered to life, he turned to you, his hands resting firmly on your waist.

“beautiful,” he murmured.

“the view?” you teased, even though you already knew the answer.

he shook his head slowly. “you.”

your breath caught in your throat as he reached for you, his lips finding yours in a slow, lingering kiss. there was no rush, no urgency. just the feeling of being completely and utterly his, surrounded by the city of love, under the lights of paris.

his hands slid to the small of your back, fingers tracing lazy circles as he deepened the kiss. he pulled away just enough to whisper against your lips, “you taste sweeter than any wine.”

your cheeks warmed, but before you could reply, he kissed you again, this time with just a hint of teasing, just enough to make your heart race.

by the time you arrived at the hotel, paris had already left you breathless.

the suite was stunning, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city, warm candlelight flickering against the walls, and soft rose petals scattered across the bed.

you turned to charles, who was watching you with something unreadable in his gaze. “you really thought of everything.”

his smirk was slow, deliberate. “i always do.”

you stepped closer, hands resting against his chest. “why paris?” you asked, voice soft.

his hands found your waist easily, like he had been waiting for this moment all night. “because it is the most romantic city in the world.” his voice dropped slightly, eyes darkening as he pulled you even closer. “and because i wanted to make sure you never forget tonight.”

your pulse quickened as his fingers traced slow patterns along your lower back, his lips brushing just below your ear.

“i have given you paris,” he murmured, voice warm and deep. “now, i only want to give you me.”

his lips ghosted over your skin, teasing, lingering, waiting.

the night was still young.

ʚ・lando norris

you were this close to losing it.

sitting on your couch, phone in hand, you stared at the screen, thumb hovering over lando’s contact. it was nearly eight in the evening on valentine’s day, and there had been no text, no call, no nothing.

no “happy valentine’s, love.” no “can’t wait to see you.” not even a dumb meme.

you waited all day, giving him the benefit of the doubt. maybe he was busy. maybe he had something planned. maybe he forgot.

your blood simmered at that last thought. oh, if he forgot…

you hit the call button, heart pounding as it rang. once. twice. straight to voicemail.

“oh, hell no.”

you stood up, pacing the living room, preparing the argument in your head. you would start off calm. hey, babe, just wondering if you forgot a certain very important day? then you’d get passive-aggressive. wow, imagine forgetting your girlfriend exists. and if he dared to laugh, you would go full dramatic mode. maybe i should date someone who actually remembers i exist. maybe oscar piastri wouldn’t forget.

but before you could dial again, the doorbell rang.

you blinked, still mid-rant in your head. slowly, you walked over, swinging the door open, fully prepared to go off—

and there he was.

lando stood on your doorstep, slightly out of breath, holding entirely too many things at once. a bouquet of your favorite flowers, a bag of takeout from your favorite restaurant, a small wrapped box, and a guilty, breathless grin on his face.

"hi," he said sheepishly, eyes twinkling.

you crossed your arms, biting back a smile. "you forgot, didn’t you?"

his jaw dropped in mock offense. "never!"

you gave him a pointed look. "then why do you look like you just ran a marathon?"

"because someone’s favorite restaurant takes forever to prepare food," he said, stepping inside as you moved aside. he held up the takeout bag like a trophy. "i have been standing in line for an hour. an hour, babe. do you know how many people are out there trying to get last-minute valentine's dinners? it’s war out there."

you snorted, shaking your head. "you could’ve at least texted me, lando. i was this close to picking a fight with you."

"believe me, i know," he muttered, placing everything down on the table. "i saw the missed call and almost died because i knew you were about to go nuclear on me."

you rolled your eyes as he unwrapped the takeout, the smell filling the room instantly. he grinned at your reaction, knowing full well how much you loved it.

"see?" he said, handing you a pair of chopsticks. "you thought i forgot, but really, i was just out here being the best boyfriend ever."

you raised an eyebrow. "you sure about that?"

he smirked. "mostly."

you shook your head, but when he grabbed a flower from the bouquet and tucked it gently behind your ear, your heart melted just a little.

"you do look really cute when you're mad, though," he added, grinning.

"lando," you warned, but he just laughed, pulling you onto the couch with him.

as you both started eating, he kept sneaking little bites of your food, dodging your half-hearted swats, grinning every time he managed to steal some.

"you're literally eating the same thing," you huffed.

"yeah, but yours tastes better."

"you are insufferable."

"and yet, here you are," he teased, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. "still mad at me?"

you sighed dramatically, resting your head against him. "i mean… i was really looking forward to yelling at you."

he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "i know. next time, i’ll text you, my bad."

"next time?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

he winked. "next time i make you think i forgot."

you gasped, smacking his arm as he burst into laughter, dodging you like an overgrown child.

eventually, you both settled down, tangled together on the couch, sharing food, jokes, and soft kisses in between.

and despite all your earlier frustration, you realized you wouldn’t trade this for anything.

ʚ・oscar piastri

valentine’s day was meant to be easy this year.

no over-the-top plans, no rushing to a fancy restaurant, no stress about whether a reservation would fall through. just you and oscar, a quiet night in, and the simple comfort of being together.

you had both agreed on it weeks ago, sitting in bed one night when he casually asked, “so, what do you wanna do for valentine’s?”

you had shrugged, leaning against him. “something simple. movies, dinner at home, just us.”

his response had been instant. “perfect.”

and now, as you stood in the kitchen, stirring the sauce for dinner while music played softly in the background, you couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

oscar walked in, freshly showered, his hair still damp as he leaned against the counter, watching you with a lazy smile.

“you need help?” he asked, even though you both knew the answer.

“you just want an excuse to mess around,” you teased, throwing him a knowing glance.

he gasped in mock offense. “i would never.”

raising an eyebrow, you pointed at him with the spoon. “like last time, when you ‘helped’ by stealing half the ingredients and eating them before they even made it into the dish?”

he grinned unapologetically. “that was a tactical decision.”

laughing, you turned back to the stove, stirring the sauce as he moved behind you, arms sneaking around your waist. he rested his chin on your shoulder, watching over you like he was actually involved in the process.

“this is nice,” he murmured.

you smiled, leaning back against him. “told you. low-key is the way to go.”

he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before pulling away. “alright, chef, what do i do?”

you handed him a cutting board with some vegetables to chop. “here. real help this time.”

he got to work, surprisingly efficient, only occasionally making faces at the onions like they had personally offended him.

by the time dinner was ready, the two of you set up in the living room, plates in hand, a blanket tossed lazily over your legs. the movie had barely started when you noticed oscar already halfway through his meal, focused but relaxed, like he was completely at home in this moment.

and, really, he was.

the two of you were tangled together on the couch, comfortable in the quiet moments, sneaking bites from each other’s plates, sharing knowing glances when something ridiculous happened in the movie.

at one point, he nudged you. “are you actually watching, or are you just staring at me?”

you smirked, setting your plate down. “maybe both.”

he huffed a laugh, shifting to face you fully. “well, if you’re gonna stare, at least make yourself useful.”

before you could ask what he meant, he pulled you closer, pressing his lips softly against yours. it was slow, unrushed, just like the night itself.

his hand found its way to your cheek, thumb tracing light patterns as he pulled away slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

“happy valentine’s,” he whispered.

you smiled, brushing your nose against his. “happy valentine’s, oscar.”

he sighed contently, pulling you even closer as the movie played on, forgotten.

and in that moment, you realized that you didn’t need fancy dates or extravagant gestures.

because home wasn’t a place.

it was him.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[son-of-drogo]

For google Pixel: Settings➡️ security and privacy➡️ Location ➡️ toggle that off. Go back to security and privacy ➡️ privacy controls➡️ turn off web & app activity and delete history in each email.

Go back to security and privacy➡️ go to privacy controls➡️ turn off access to anything that could steal your data. Also make sure you're not connected to any health apps.

Delete anything that needs location access, get some recent maps of as many states as you can and learn to read them.

If you can avoid using any google products, please do. Print your photos. If you can find an affordable and safe one, photo printers print them out as stickers. If not, go to the library. Black and White pictures are better than no pictures at all. I'd suggest Walgreens, but I'm not sure they're safe to go to. Delete everything off your cloud.

Back up all your work on docs or any important emails that you will need onto a thumb drive. If you're like me and you write on your phone, find a good, safe alternative to docs and delete everything you can. If anyone knows a good alternative app to docs, please share.

Any information about you you can delete or get off the Internet, please do.

If you need to save physical copies of anything, put them in an airtight container in case you need to hide them. Things like your birth certificate, social security card, and passport, any potential banned books you can get your hands on, and anything you might need to survive.

I hope for the best, but stay safe everyone.

anyway yeah DELETE YOUR FUCKING ADVERTISING IDS

Android:

Settings ➡️ Google ➡️ all services ➡️ Ads ➡️ Delete advertising ID

(may differ slightly depending on android version and manufacturer firmware. you can't just search settings for "advertising ID" of course 🔪)

iOS:

Settings ➡️ privacy ➡️ tracking ➡️ toggle "allow apps to request to track" to OFF

and ALSO settings ➡️ privacy ➡️ Apple advertising ➡️ toggle "personalized ads" to OFF

more details about the process here via the EFF

[insidekatmind]

Headcannons~Cho Sang-woo

Wearning: +18,mention of smut, possessive.

Request:yes!

•Sang woo is very protective and possessive and doesn't like it when a girl gives you too many looks;

•Sang woo takes care of you and spoils you;

•He is a gentleman: he will always open the car door for you, every door, if you are cold he will give you his jacket and when your feet hurt he will carry you in his arms;

•Sangwoo struggles to express his feelings and often keeps everything inside until he bursts. He would never hurt you, but his jealousy often leads to arguments. This insecurity comes from his deep fear of being abandoned by the one person who truly matters to him,you;

•He is altruistic: he always thinks of your good before his;

•He doesn't like your low-cut and revealing clothes (because he doesn't like others looking at what's his) but when you go out he makes you wear them anyway but he will keep an eye on you and will be ready to give dirty looks to anyone who looks at you;

•He's borderline obsessive;

•He is obsessed with you and would never look at another woman;

• He is the brains of the couple, when you are with him you let him guide you, loving when he takes the lead. Sang-woo also loves that you trust him;

• Sang woo loves watching you. You can feel his adoring, loving gaze towards you but he becomes possessive especially if you are wearing a dress or shirt that is too revealing;

•His accent is thick and heavy and he uses it to his advantage. he loves to talk you through it especially for degrade and praise you right after,whispers in your ear the things he wants to do to you even in public;

•Sang woo always shows you that he cares about you and loves you. He would do everything for you, he worships you as if you were a goddess;

•Sang woo always teases you especially when you're out and about: he touches your thigh more than he should or puts his hand on your butt keeping it there.

[may-stuff]

a friend in need. - fc43

summary: you've been best friends for almost your entire lives. who is he to deny you some help when you need it the most?

warnings: afab!reader, masturbation, oral sex (m), dirty talking, unprotected sex, creampie || typos and grammatical mistakes because english is not my first language and I'm a little stupid. also, this isn't great in any way so please don't be mean, thank u.

word count: 6.6k approx.

a/n: please please please, if you read this and you like it at least a little bit, please interact with it. If I don't get notifications I die 🥀

In the loneliness of your bedroom, you can't help but let your mind wander. Surrounded by shadows that seem to whisper his name in your ears, you get engulfed in the reminisce of him and almost every moment you've shared together. 

Behind your closed eyes you can see his beautiful face, his hair that smells so good, his hands and those long fingers that have touched you in a friendly way countless times before but tonight, tonight you remember those interactions from another perspective, in a new light. 

Not everything is about his physique, though. The brightness of his smile that could light up an entire room, his laugh and the sound of his voice- everything about him is perfect, even the imperfections. You also think of his moody, short answers in the morning when he's still sleepy; you think of his frown and the look in his eyes when he's angry for something or at someone, and even that seems like undeniable proof of a kind of beauty you've never seen before in anyone else. 

Your feelings for him, you realise now, go beyond everything; but tonight, in the quiet of your own room and with the knowledge that you'll never be more than his dear, best friend, you decide that setting your imagination free won't hurt anybody. He doesn't have to know, you don't even have to say his name out loud. 

Only in your mind. His name echoes in every part of your conscience as you imagine. You imagine him in situations that you're sure you'll never see him in. You imagine him kissing you, both softly and then roughly, as if he were trying to consume all of you. Your mind shows him on top of you, his clothes gone, his lips on your skin and your name coming out of them in a plea. 

The visions in your head are so clear that soon your own hands are exploring your body. First, they travel up and down all through your abdomen, making you feel goosebumps at the thought of how good this would feel if it only were his hands on your skin. When you reach your breasts and cup them in your hands under your shirt, you can't help but to moan softly, even more when your fingers pinch your nipples that, in result, become impossibly hard in a matter of seconds. With the image of his beautiful lips wrapping around your hardened peaks, painting them with his own saliva, you feel that familiar pressure in your lower abdomen. That sensation that comes with the arousal that becomes physical and pools in the deepest parts of you, coating your underwear more and more with each second that passes and he's still in your mind, touching you, making you feel better than any man has ever done before. 

In the complexity of the mind, a deep feeling of guilt presses onto your chest. You know this is wrong, you know this isn't what you should do when you think of your dearest friend, but you can't help it. You can't avoid the feelings and the images in your mind. It's like a film that won't stop playing over and over; it's a bunch of images of him on top of you, inside of you, whispering the filthiest things right in your ear. It's him telling you how divine you feel around him, how much he loves being buried deep inside of you. It's his voice moaning and grunting, face hidden in the curve between your neck and your shoulder. 

It's your hands caressing his back and your nails digging into his flesh every time he moves inside you, the lewd sounds of his cock sliding into your hungry pussy filling the room and, in response, making you more needy. 

In the real world, your left hand has already reached your underwear. Your fingers come in contact with the wet spot right above your slit and you moan softly to the knowledge that you've become this wet only because he is in your mind. And as the guilt hits you once again, trying to drift your mind away from the pleasure that the thought of him gives you, you decide to go against it. 

He will never know about this. 

That thought is decisive. Your shirt and underwear are gone in a matter of seconds, and when you feel the soft air coming in from the window and touching your skin, you shiver. You wish he would be here, his natural warmth engulfing your body and soul, making the sadness and loneliness go away. But you're alone in your empty house- and even if he were here, he wouldn't be where you want him to be. 

With the crude reality put in the back of your mind, your fingers finally travel down to where you need attention the most. Feeling your own dampness, you let out a deep sigh. No one has ever made you this wet, not even yourself. All of this is thanks to him, because of him. The fire in your veins, the need to feel pleasure, the need to cum, all of this intensity is due to him and his face engraved in your mind. 

That's why you can hear his voice so clearly in your head the moment one of your fingers finds its way inside of you. The familiar intrusion feels good but it's obviously not enough, so it isn't surprising that a second finger adds to the first in a matter of seconds and this time you feel fuller. You feel fuller and needier, because now you're realising that nothing will be actually enough, because what you need isn't a matter of size, it isn't a matter of how and how much; it's about him. It's all about him. 

About his face and his hands and his voice. About your own fingers trying to find the right pace as you can almost feel his lips on your skin. It's about you and the need to say his name even though you know that you shouldn't, because if you do, it'll become real. The shameful thought that you want your best friend in ways that you shouldn't, will become true if you say his name out loud. 

But you can't help it. Your fingers inside of you feel good enough to make you whimper and mutter words that don't make sense. They're enough to fuel the images in your mind and you can't take it anymore. So, against your will, his name leaves your lips and you feel some sort of relief with it, because now your needs have claimed his name as their own. Your lust has a name now, and you can't stop saying it. 

“Franco.” 

It comes out in a soft plea at first, loud enough so only you can hear it. But it doesn't take much time or effort for you to continue further, saying it louder and louder each time your fingers enter your cunt again. Soon the room is filled with your pleas and cries that almost sound like you're in pain, because in a way you are, but his name falling from your lips over and over are enough to cover them up. Or at least that's what you think. 

You would have heard the front door opening and closing if you were paying more attention to your surroundings. You would have heard the voice calling your name once, twice a second later and then the steps getting closer to your room. You would have had time to cover yourself and come up with an excuse if you weren't so lost in your own mind and body. That's why the only thing that brings you back to the present, to reality, is the light that bathes your face when your bedroom's door opens. 

Everything happens so fast that you're sure you won't be able to recall this memory in the near future. Or maybe you will, and it will haunt you for the rest of your life. 

Once your eyes get used to the light that has suddenly corrupted the darkness in your room, your heart starts beating fast with horror. 

He's standing there, at your door, and the expression on his face is quite difficult to decipher. At his complete mercy, you're fully naked, laying on your bed with your legs wide open and your hands on your cunt; one of them with fingers buried deep inside you while the other is resting a little bit higher, just above your clit. Your chest is rising up and down with the heavy breathing that the pure terror and shame have triggered. Eyes wide open, mouth agape, you're frozen in the spot, unable to say a word, unable to act. 

The tension in the room is cut when he says your name, and maybe you're imagining things, but his voice sounds strangled.

Then, after some seconds, he mutters it again, your name. This time you're sure he's shocked with the scene in front of him but not entirely disgusted. 

The fear and guilt that had taken over you vanish almost completely when you see the expression on his face. Your eyes have adapted to the shining light coming into the dark room, so now you can see him more clearly, and the strange glint in his eyes is enough to make you think that maybe, just maybe, something good can come out of this situation.

Franco's eyes are wide open for a few shocking seconds. Then, when his brain processes the image before him, they start roaming your body. Bright green eyes observe your chest, bare tits and hardened nipples that seem to get even harder under his gaze. The valley between your breasts is covered in sweat and, in a strange way, that makes them look even more appealing. Your stomach, then, is a zone that perhaps you feel a little concerned to show too much but his expression doesn't change at any stop his eyes make on your body. He admires every part with the same intensity, with the same look of bewilderment in that gorgeous face.

He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible groan when his eyes reach your lower stomach and your legs, long and thick. His mouth agape when, in a sudden movement full of boldness, you open them a little wider and let him see more. He's standing to your right, so he can't see all of you properly, but he can see enough and, by the expression on his face, he's loving every second.

The absence of a negative reaction on his part emboldens you to act. Your hands, as if they were separated entities from the rest of your body, resume the earlier activities. Two of your fingers find your clit at the same time your left hand grabs one of your breasts. A sigh leaves your lips at the sudden contact and the fact that Franco is watching your every move makes a wave of pleasure hit you hard. You're aware that you're starting to put on a pornographic show for your best friend and, honestly, you're enjoying it maybe too much.

This is the first time you've seen him so focused on something. All those times he told you he struggled with his own attention span, you should've known that being naked in front of him, touching yourself for him, would be all he'd need to keep quiet and focused. That's why you chuckle when your eyes find him again and you see that his gaze is still fixed in your body.

The sound, a mix of a giggle and a moan, make him look at your face.

"Franco." You moan his name for the hundredth time this evening and rejoice when you actually see him shiver at the sound of your voice. "Please, please help me." You whimper, your own fingers pumping in and out of you faster each time. Harder. "I need you."

He closes his eyes for a few seconds and you know that he's fighting against something, against the fact that, if he gives in, everything will change. You will be friends no longer, because friends don't do this, friends don't want each other in such a way. But you do, and both of you know it. You both also know that, if you act on your shared desire, then when the moment is over you'll probably be in a limbo, trying to figure out what comes next.

But Franco actually doesn't care about the after, he almost never thinks too much before he acts. He lives the moment. You know that and your knowledge gets reinforced when he opens his eyes again and walks towards you, closing the door behind him. In response your heart flutters with excitement. 

Your fingers leave you and go up to rest on your lower stomach when he reaches your side. He's standing at your right, and this time you realize that he's looking at you in the face, looking for your gaze. When your eyes finally meet again, you can read a question that is answered with a nod of your head. 

You want this. You want this so bad. 

Franco's left hand caresses your hair first. His long fingers intertwine in your locks and for a moment you close your eyes to enjoy the innocent touch that, in a different situation, would get you to sleep. But the grip becomes a bit firmer and now he's tugging on it so your head can move to the side again, that way you can meet his eyes. As his hand leaves your head and travels to your soft cheek and then your lips, you don't stop looking at each other. 

A gasp leaves your throat when his thumb sits on your lower lip, and then he puts it inside your mouth, gently enough to give you time so you can reject him if you want. But you don't, you would never.

Soft lips wrap around his finger. Franco's reaction to the feeling of your tongue against the pad of his thumb in an almost imperceptible moan. The sound is low, coming out from the centre of his chest through gritted teeth, and it is the first time in the night that you feel some sort of pride fluttering inside you. The simple fact that he's reacting like this to the first physical contact with you is enough to make you act even bolder than before, and you keep sucking on his finger while looking him in the eyes. 

Franco smiles almost tenderly before the tone of his voice becomes twisted. 

“Who would've thought…” he mutters, still looking at you. “That you were such a desperate slut, huh?”

The sound you make in response to his words is almost inhuman. You're desperate and he can hear it in the tone of your moans, that are still muffled by his finger inside your mouth. 

“All these years…” he continues, voice feeling like velvet on your heated skin. “You were always such a good girl. Always the one to behave properly, wise beyond her years, or at least that's what all of them said, your family and mine… What would they think of you, (y/n)?” Franco asks, the mocking tone coming back. You squirm on the bed as you take his finger deeper and hollow your cheeks, imagining his cock in its place. 

“What would they think of you, (y/n)?” He presses on. This time, you look up at him. “If I told them about this. How I found you naked on your bed, fingers deep inside your soaked cunt while moaning my name like the fucking little whore you are. What would your family say? And mine? Should I let them know how much of a slut you're?”

You almost cry when he takes his finger off your mouth. 

“Answer me.” He commands. “Should I let everyone know?”

“If it pleases you.” You answer, voice sounding a little hoarse because of the previous activity in your throat. 

He smiles. 

“Is that what you want? To please me?”

You nod, fully conscious that you're making yourself look desperate- and actually you are. His mere presence, the sound of his voice, the smell of his cologne and the fact that he apparently wants you as much as you want him is enough for you. You're more than ready for him, for all of him, and Franco knows it. 

He knows it because it's written in you. All over the expression on your face and the way you open your legs for him when his right hand travels all the way down to your knee, and stays there, not moving back but neither further, torturing you silently. 

“Please.” You whisper. “Fran, I need you.”

It's funny, though. You're the one who's ready to please but you also are the one who begs. You've been actually begging him to touch you since the moment you saw him standing at the threshold.

Franco wishes you could read his mind and know that he's waited for this moment for a long time. He's wanted you since the moment you met, all those years ago. First, it was an innocent crush, that was all a child could offer, of course. But since you both grew into yourselves and he started to discover the world and other people- Franco had been with enough people to know that none of them could compare to you, even if he hadn't laid a hand on you yet. Something about you, about your aura, about the strong pull he felt towards you every single time you were in the same room, would assure him that nothing, no one, could compare to you. 

And now you're here, right in front of him, begging. The sound of your voice is almost haunting, like you're in deep pain. He could ask himself over and over again if this is the right thing to do, but in all honesty, he doesn't care about that. He only cares about you and the painful desire you make him feel even when he hasn't touched you properly yet. 

Besides, if you really need him as you say,  if you're in pain as you sound, who is he to deny you his help? Isn't he, after all, your best friend?

That thought is all he needs to vanish his worries to the darkest pit of his mind. 

“Are you really sure about this?” His voice cuts the silence once again. The eager nod coming from you makes him smile. “I need words, love.”

“Yes.” You answer almost too fast. “Please, Fran. Please. I can't wait anymore.”

He curses under his breath because he honestly can't believe it. He's amazed by your eagerness and so fucking turned on that he feels like he's going to cum right here and now. 

So, to avoid that, Franco doesn't waste any more time. Before you can blink twice, he's undoing his trousers and underwear, pulling them down as his hard cock springs out. You moan at the sight of it. Long and thick enough to make your mouth literally water, standing proud and impossibly hard against his shirt, almost staining the fabric with the precum that pools at the angry red tip. It's beautiful, just like the rest of him, and your cunt hurts with the anticipation of feeling it in you. 

After taking his shirt off, Franco's right hand travels down to his dick, grabbing it with a firm grip before pumping it a few times, smearing his own juices all over his length, which makes it look even more appetizing. 

You wait in your place on the bed, observing the small show of him touching himself for a few seconds until his right knee sinks on the mattress, right beside your shoulder. Then, his left hand goes to your hair, under your head, lifting it and adjusting it in the right way so the head of his dick is now right on your lips. He traces them with it, as if he were painting them. 

“So fucking perfect.” He whispers. In response, you let your tongue lick around the head of his dick, coaxing a deep moan out of him. The first contact with his skin is delicious but now you want more, so much more. And apparently he feels the same. 

“I'm gonna put it in your mouth. Is that okay, baby?” He asks. You make a sound that it's a mix between a whine and a moan as you nod for the hundredth time in the night. “Gonna suck my cock until I cum down your throat?” You almost jolt in excitement at that. “Yeah? You want my cum?”

Your answer sounds against the skin of his dick, which you keep licking. “Yes. Yes, please.”

That is the last thing you say for a few minutes, right before he presses the tip against your lips again and this time you open your mouth wide enough to take him in. The way Franco moans at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth is pornographic and you thank the Gods for that, the fact that he's always so vocal about everything and this situation is not an exception. Actually, his moans are all the fuel you need to keep going. The taste of him too. Everything about him makes you take him deeper inside your mouth every time he pulls almost all the way back, fucking your face faster and harder as the minutes pass by. 

The grip on your hair becomes tighter as the sounds of your throat being fucked fill the room. You gag only two times, when he pushes all the way in and holds his dick in the deepest part of your throat he can reach, your nose pressed against him and saliva falling down your chin and neck. Every time he pulls out, you take a second or two to gather your breath but soon enough he's at it again, and you receive him without any complaint, relaxing your throat all you can as he keeps filling it over and over again. 

The intensity and pleasure of it all becomes almost unbearable and soon you're pressing your thighs together, trying to ease the almost literal pain you feel. Franco sees it, attentive to your body even though a great part of his mind is clouded with the sweet abandon of pleasure. So, for a few seconds, he eases the grip on your hair so you can start doing most of the work now, because his right hand travels from your knee to your inner thigh, and it isn't long until you can feel his fingers in your cunt. 

Both of you moan at the feeling. You, because the pressure of his fingers on your slit ease the pain you've been feeling; him, because you're so fucking wet that, when he starts massaging your clit, your juices are so abundant that the movements he makes leave a loud, squelching sound behind them.

“You're soaked.” He moans, still inside your mouth and touching you at the same time. “Is this because of me, love?” 

The answer is obvious to both of you, but you answer anyway, “Yes.” You say, a hoarse voice can barely be heard above the sounds of your cunt. “Yes, it's because of you. Always.” 

Franco smiles, “Do you always touch yourself while thinking of me?” You nod and this time he laughs. It doesn't make you feel bad because it isn't a mocking laugh, it's like he can't believe it. “Same. You have no idea how many times I've made a mess while thinking of you.” 

As his velvety voice keeps sounding in your ears, he keeps massaging your clit, faster as the seconds go by. 

“I've imagined you in every position.” He mutters. “I've made myself cum so many times, thinking of your sweet mouth and cunt wrapped around me, milking me as many times as we wish.” 

He's realized from the first moment that dirty talking is one of your weaknesses, and lucky you, he loves saying naughty things, so he keeps doing it as he massages your clit and smiles triumphant when your legs start trembling and you look at him with an expression on your face that he will never forget. Glassy eyes look up at him as your teeth sinks into your lower lip; your orgasm is close and everything about you says so. 

When you try to close your eyes, his hand immediately slows the pace on your clit. You frown. 

“What-?”

“You keep looking at me.” He commands. You want to yell at him, but his movements become fast again and the sweet pressure on your lower belly comes back. “You look me in the eyes as you cum or I won't do this again, you understand?” You nod. “Words, (y/n).”

“I- fuck, I understand!” You moan as his fingers keep working you on at an impossible pace. 

Not many seconds pass by until the first orgasm hits you hard. Your eyes are still on his; your entire body trembling as the most lewd sounds leave your throat. The simple act of having an orgasm while looking at those beautiful green eyes is enough to bring tears to yours. The pleasure is too overwhelming. 

When the best seconds of your life so far end, your body relaxes and Franco pulls both his hands away from you, letting you rest on the bed. The fingers that worked your clit are now in his own mouth as he sucks them clean. The sight makes you moan. 

“Delicious.” He says, coaxing a giggle out of you. “What?”

“You're crazy. And so fucking hot.”

Franco smiles and shrugs. 

“You know me.”

“Not like this, no.”

“Oh, this? This is nothing, love.”

You frown, “You gave me the best orgasm of my life by simply touching my clit and you call it nothing? It never felt like that before.” 

“I mean, it's not my fault that your previous lovers were fucking idiots.”

You smile.

“And you're what, some sort of sex God?”

“That I am.” 

A genuine laugh escapes your lips. You laugh at his smug words and at the entire situation. Everything is so- surreal, in a way. It's almost comical. But the sound dies in your throat when you realize the way he's looking at you. He's not mad or annoyed, he just looks like he's discovered something new in you, but if he did he doesn't say it out loud. 

Soon, when you've recovered from your orgasm, you realize that Franco's still standing by your side and his dick is still impossibly hard. You remember his previous words, about sucking him off until he's cumming down your throat, and you feel the fire inside you light up once again. Your right hand wraps around his dick without a warning and he hisses, but he doesn't pull you away, instead enjoying your ministrations. 

“Not right now.” He says after a minute or two, as if he's reading your mind. You're sure, though, that he's actually reading the expression on your face as you jerk him off. It's clear that you want him to cum. “Not like this, I won't last long.”

You stop. Then, looking into his eyes, you open your legs for him once again. 

“Come here, then.”

He doesn't need to be told twice. In an instant, he's standing at your feet; both hands reach behind your knees and they pull you towards him. 

In a silent agreement, both of you take your time to look at each other. He's lucky enough to have you like this- completely bare before him, body glistening with sweat due to the previous activities, pretty face with an expression of utter pleasure as you anticipate what's coming, unconsciously opening your legs further, letting him fully see you. You're out of this world, so beautiful that it almost hurts. And he isn't so far behind- you also think he's the most handsome man you've ever seen, with those eyes scanning every piece of you, his curls sticking to his forehead and, oh, such a pretty face. His body is something else too- the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen, the shape of his arms, his hands. You take his hands in yours for a moment, squeezing them, praying this isn't the last time you feel them on you. 

You're both so mesmerized with each other that your bodies seem to move with their own consciousness, and that's why you share a loud moan when he enters you for the first time. 

It feels like nothing you've experienced before. You can't decide what is it that makes him so different from other people you've been with, but surely, there's something that makes Franco feel like heaven. He stays still for a few, long seconds because he's just realized that he penetrated you without warning and in a single movement, and even though it's obvious that you're ready enough to receive him, he doesn't want to hurt you. 

What he doesn't realise is that you're in pain once again because you need him to move and put an end to this feeling, this primitive need to have him just fucking you hard and deep. And that's what you finally ask from him, without shame, without guilt. 

“Please.” You beg once again. “Move. Please, move. I need to feel you.” 

You're sure you're about to cry but the tears get stuck in your eyes when Franco complies and starts moving his hips. It's slow at first, like he's testing the waters, but when the only thing you do is moan softly and writhe under him, crying for more, his hands leave yours and travel to your hips. Once he's sure his grip on your flesh is firm enough, he accelerates the pace, and starts pumping into you with a force that has you almost screaming. 

Soon you start moving your own hips, meeting him halfway and making the experience a thousand times better, if that's even possible. The feeling of his dick inside you, so fucking deep, is more than anything you've ever felt in your life. 

The room is filled with the sound of your skin against his, and the musky smell of sex intoxicates your senses. You've dreamed about this moment for so long that it feels surreal- his hands on your hips, his cock deep inside you and his eyes roaming the entirety of your body, all of it feels so out of this world and you love every second. You love it so much that you feel drunk with pleasure and something else that you can name yet. 

Franco grins at the sight of your eyes, glassy with tears that you're soon to shed. A deep feeling of pride fills his chest. 

“Look at you.” He taunts, never stopping his movements. “You were made for this, weren't you? You were made for my cock, for me.” 

You nod and moan, unable to form a full sentence as his pace becomes impossibly fast and hard- it's almost too much and the thought of asking him to slow down crosses your mind for a split second, until his hands travel up from their place on your hips to your breasts, and your brain almost shuts down. 

“Gonna enjoy these later, I promise.” He chuckles as his long fingers start kneading the flesh of your tits. When he pinches your nipples, the moan that leaves your throat is almost too much, but you don't care. It feels too good to hold back. 

You relish on the feeling of his fingers on your hard nipples until his right hand stops its ministrations to start roaming the skin of your left side, your waist, all the way back down to your hip and then- then you feel his fingers on your clit again, massaging it with expertise. You can't help but throw your head back as a deep moan leaves your throat. 

“Fuck, yes.” You moan, almost hysterical. “So good, so good- oh my-” 

Franco chuckles again and then says, in a mocking tone, “You're so dirty, (y/n). You really-” his words are suddenly interrupted by a strangled groan as you tighten your walls around him. Your warmth hugging his dick in a way that has him literally losing his balance and almost falling on top of you, and he would've crushed you if his arms weren't strong enough to keep him hovering over you.

His face contorted in an expression full of sheer pleasure, he looks so good with his eyes closed and mouth agape, desperately trying to hold the moans in. 

You're the one who chuckles this time. 

“Too good, huh?” You tease him, your cunt tightening around him once again. He groans and hides his face in the crook of your neck. “Can't take it, baby? Too much for you?”

Franco moans again and then you hear him whisper.

“I'm gonna make you- you will pay for this.”

You giggle softly. 

“I think I'd like that.”

All resolve leaves him when you make your magic again. The feeling of your cunt hugging his dick so tightly is enough to make him lose his mind and almost all control. His movements become messier as they get faster, you feel him twitch inside you once, then twice. You hum at the feeling, caressing his back and nape, then intertwining your fingers with his messy, wet locks. 

“I'm close.” He moans, the sound muffled by your skin. 

“I know, baby. Come on, cum for me."

“You first.”

For a moment you think your words are enough, but apparently they aren't. In a second, Franco seems to take back control of the situation when he suddenly breaks away from your arms, kneeling in front of you just like before- his hard, throbbing dick still deep inside of you. You're about to ask him what's going on but then his long fingers are on your clit again, and you answer by throwing your head back in a loud moan. 

Franco keeps working on the most sensitive part of your body as he starts moving again, in and out, at a torturous pace that has you writhing on the bed. Your eyes fill with tears again and he smiles. 

“Cum for me, love.” He encourages through gritted teeth. You know he's holding his own orgasm back by fucking you slowly, and his will certainly impresses you. “Please, do it. Cum all around my cock.”

How would you deny him? When he looks so good fucking you, working on your clit like this isn't the first time. How would you deny him anything when this is all you've ever wanted?

So you let yourself go. Your second orgasm hits you harder than the previous one, sweet cunt gushing all around him, soaking him and the sheets below you. Your moans are almost pornographic and you feel him twitch inside you at the sound of them. 

In the electric explosion that takes over your entire body and mind, you feel him crawling back on top of you, like he was just minutes ago. His face hiding in your left shoulder again as his hips keep fucking into you aggressively, making your climax last longer than expected. 

“Look at me.” You moan in his ear and your body trembles with the sound of a deep groan coming as a response. After a few seconds of you repeating those words, he lifts his head to look at you, forehead pressed against yours. “Cum inside of me and don't stop looking at me as you do it.” 

He chews on his lower lip. 

“I-inside?” You nod as much as you can. “Fuck, (y/n).”

“Please, I need it.” You moan against his mouth, your eyes on his. “I need your cum.” 

That last sentence is accompanied by his name and the way you moan it's all it takes for him to finally let go. The sounds Franco makes when he's cumming deep inside of you are never going to leave your memory, and you wish, right here, now, that you have the opportunity to hear them again many times from tonight. The sight of him is beautiful too- brows furrowed, eyes desperately trying to stay open and that pretty mouth shaped in an O form. His cheeks are red and glistening with the sweat that's covering him, as well as the tip of his nose.

As he empties inside of you, you keep caressing his back, leaving goosebumps behind your touch. His skin shivers with the feeling, still making little sounds that will haunt you forever. 

He pumps into you two or three times more, still filling you with his release, that soon you start feeling overflowing your cunt, falling down your ass and on the sheets. You wonder if he always cums this hard, and the idea that he might not, that you're the only one that makes him feel like this, it's exciting. 

After some long seconds he stops moving his hips but is still buried deep inside of you. His face goes back to the crook of your neck for the second time and you smile as you feel his hot breath on your skin and then a kiss, then his teeth grazing the spot and sinking into it. 

“That's gonna leave a mark.” You moan. 

“Good.”

You stay like that for minutes that feel like hours, in each other's arms, your skin sticking to his due to the sweat that you both share but you couldn't care less. It feels too good, everything about it feels too good and none of you make an attempt to break away from the other. 

Franco knows, as well as you do, that this has been an event that will change everything forever. Some part of you is afraid of what comes next- a hundred questions flood your brain but the main one is the one that haunts you the most. Was this a one night stand? 

You're about to gather the courage to ask him when he lifts his head to look at you, forehead against yours again. You look him in the eyes and, for a moment, you think that the green in his gaze gives you the answer you so desperately need. But in case you needed confirmation, he decides to speak it out loud. 

“I wanna do it again.” He simply states, and you feel your chest full with happiness. “Like, forever. I really mean it.”

You giggle in response and you feel the tears that you've been holding back slowly falling down your cheeks. Franco kisses them away as soon as he notices them. 

“You liked it that much?” You ask as he keeps kissing your face. He stops for a moment to answer, his lips moving against your jaw. 

“Yeah. But I like you, all of you.” He says. “And I want you so much it hurts.”

“I want you, too.”

He smiles shortly before capturing your lips with his, and you realise that this is the first time you've ever kissed. People are supposed to kiss before having wild sex, but who cares?

All you care about is Franco and his pretty lips on yours, moving with such confidence and expertise that leave you breathless. You can feel everything in that kiss, it feels like he's trying to say all those things that he thinks it's too soon to say yet, but you answer him with the same intensity, making him tremble in your arms. 

His kiss says that he loves you too much to let you go, and you tell him that you feel the same.

a/n2: hope you liked it! pls let me know what you think ♥

[munsonsmixtapes]

Expect me to creep into your inbox whenever you ask for requests 👀 I am always going to annoy you because you are so talented

Eddie smut with a plus size reader? Maybe she’s there at one of Corroded Coffin’s gigs at The Hideout and Eddie is just like

girl you keep giving me a big head (don't stop) and I love writing about plus sized!reader so your wish is my command!

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotect sex (wrap it before you tap it) public sex

You enter the smoky bar, looking around the place to take everything in. It's exactly what you thought it'd be but that doesn't mean you don't like it. It's exactly your scene and you love live music so when you heard that a local band preforms there every week, you just knew that you had to check it out.

You make a beeline for the bar to get a drink as the band is setting up. Your eyes immediately catch the guy at the front of the stage fixing up his microphone. He's got long curly hair and the tight t-shirt he's got on is so distracting. You swore to yourself that you weren't going to do this again.

You're trying to not get involved with anyone but that doesn't mean that you can't have a little fun, right? He's exactly your type with the way he's dressed and those large rings he's got on his fingers are making your head spin with the dirtiest thoughts.

Eddie's eyes lock on yours and he's immediately in love. He's always loved curvy girls but there's something about you specifically that is making hearts appear in his eyes. It's the way you carry yourself like you're hot shit and fuck are you.

The tight pants you're wearing are making him dizzy. He wants to have you in the back of his van and love on every inch of you, telling you how beautiful you are. You've got such a hold on him and he doesn't even know your name.

His eyes follow you as you head over the bar and he’s so close to following you just so he can know what name he’s supposed to moan. He just has to have you and straight after the gig, he’s going to ask for your number. 

You give him a little wave and he winks at you before you turn and head to the bar where you take a seat before ordering a drink. Eddie’s watching you the whole time, wondering what you’re drinking, wanting to sit next to you and let you talk his ear off the whole night. You’ve completely captivated him and he doesn’t know what to do now that he’s seen you.

The set starts and you get closer to the stage, fully intending on being in the action. You just want to be near him. You want to see how pretty he is up close with the sweat dripping off him in the heat of the bar. You want to feel the scruff of his beard against your skin as he kisses his way down your body. 

You’re nodding along to the music, really hoping that they have a tape or something so you can listen to it on repeat. The lead singer’s voice is nothing like you’ve heard before. It’s deep and raspy and you just know that you’d run the tape out because of how much you’d listen to it. 

His eyes are shut tight and it makes you wonder if that’s what he’d look like as you topped him, pretty hair fanned out on your pillow, his eyes shut tight as his hips buck against yours, trying his best to keep up with your pace. 

You clearly haven’t been out in a while because why are you thirsting over the first man you’ve seen? But considering the other women around you seem to be thinking the same, you feel a lot better, more sane for thinking about this stranger in such dirty ways. 

His eyes open and he’s staring straight at you, a smirk playing on his pretty lips as he strums on his guitar, pulling away from the mic as he goes into a guitar solo, his fingers moving down the neck in a rapid motion. You’re not even sure how that’s possible, but at least you know he’s good with his fingers. 

Eddie’s trying his hardest to focus on what he’s doing, trying not to turn his head and look at you because if he does, he’s going to fuck up the set then take you by the hand to go somewhere private where he can kiss you absolutely stupid. 

But he can’t help it. You keep catching his eye and he’ll just stare before he’s pulled out of his trance and thrown back into the song. He can tell you want him too because of the way you’re staring back with that flirty look and he’s counting down the seconds until he’s finished. 

So as soon as the set is done and the crowd begins to disperse, Eddie jumps down from the stage and takes you by the hand, pulling you to his chest, your body flush to his as his hand rests on your back. 

“Hi,” he greets.

“Hi,” you smile and watch his gaze drop to your lips. 

“I’m Eddie.” You’re not sure how, but the name suits him, almost as if it was made specifically for him.

“Y/n.”

“Well, y/n, I hope you don’t have any plans tonight.” You don’t and for the first time, you’re glad for it. You have a feeling you know exactly what you’re going to get up to.

“Just whatever you’re doing,” You reply, twirling a strand of his hair. Oh yeah, he’s definitely wrapped around your finger now. 

“I need to pack up my equipment but as soon as I’m done, it’s you and me.” His lips press to your cheek and then he hurries back to the stage while you stand there, waiting for him to be done. You watch him bend over to put his guitar into the case and can’t help but stare at his ass as he does so. You want to just give it a squeeze and hope you get a chance once you’re alone.

He finishes up pretty and quickly hands his guitar off to one of his bandmates before heading over to you, sticking his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. His eyes are raking over your body, his tongue slowly licking across his bottom lip as he does so. 

They get to your thighs and he so desperately wants to give them a squeeze, to bury his head between them and eat your pussy like a man starved. Fuck, he’s never been so attracted to anyone like this in his life and he needs you so bad. 

As his band mates flee, he takes you by the hand and lead you out to his van. He pins you to  the side of it and his lips find yours in a hot kiss, not afraid to slide his tongue into your mouth as his hands grab a firm hold of your waist. 

You push his jacket from his shoulders and he lets it fall to the ground behind him before pulling to the back. He opens the doors and helps you inside before climbing inside himself and closing the door behind you.

Once you’re safely inside, you’re quick to undress each other between heated kisses. His lips are hot in your skin as he presses them to every new inch of skin that’s revealed as another piece of clothing is removed. He’s mumbling compliments into your skin and you’re so glad that you’re sitting because you feel like you’re melting under his touch.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, knows exactly what to say and what to do and if just making out with him is making you melt, you’re not so sure how you’re going to handle the sex. Once your bra is off, he lays you down onto the floor of the van, his lips kissing down your chest before wrapping around your hard nipple.

His tongue swipes across it gently and you let out a whine as if asking for more. Eddie pulls away to give you a shit-eating grin before going back in, giving your nipple a suck as his tongue flicks back and forth across it, his other hand reaching up and massaging your other one. You’re whining at the feeling and he takes that as an invitation to continue, going in with his teeth to bite down on it which causes a loud moan to fall from your lips. 

So Eddie does it again, harder this time, causing you to grab fistfulls of his hair, yanking on it to show just how much you’re enjoying yourself. He lets out a little yelp in response, but that doesn’t stop him from biting you again. In fact, it only makes him do it again and again until you’re close to an orgasm.

And when he moves onto your other nipple, you swear that you’re seeing stars as he does the exact same thing, your back arching in pleasure as you keep tugging on his hair, feeling yourself getting progressively more wet as he does so. It’s soaking wet between your legs and you need him between them so bad. You need him to fuck you so hard that you can’t walk for days. 

“Need you,” you whine and spread your legs so he knows exactly what you mean. So his lips travel down your torso and you gasp as his teeth grab onto the waistband of your panities, pulling them down so slowly because he’s such a goddamn tease. He’s looking up at you as his eyes darken, almost looking black. 

He then removes his own before taking out a condom from his jeans pocket and rolls the thing on. He spreads your legs as wide as possible so that they’re touching the floor then positions himself so that he’s lined up with you before going in, pumping as hard as he possibly can, watching you respond to every touch as you lie beneath him. 

You’re watching him in awe, getting even more wet as you take in his tattoos and the way his hair falls, the chain around his neck hitting against his collarbone in a rapid pace because of how hard he’s fucking you. 

“Look so pretty on my cock, sweetheart. And you’re taking me so well already.” His cock is not even halfway inside and you need to feel all of him. You’re desperate for the whole thing, to see just how much you can take so you grab hold of his ass and push him farther inside you until his bush is pressed up against you. 

You gasp at the feeling and tears well up in your eyes because of how big he is, but it just feels so good. Your nails dig into his cheeks and he takes the hint, fucking you with his whole cock as he picks up the pace, moving in and out so quickly you can hardly keep up as you buck your hips against his. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he says as his lips press to your neck in a soft kiss. “Like fuck, this is just unfair sweetheart.” He reaches up and swipes some sweaty hair from your forehead. He then picks up the pace even more as he sees that you’re close, making sure to insert all of himself as he does so. 

And when you finally do come, he continues thrusting into you until you’re crying his name. Once you’re coming down, he pulls out and disposes of the condom before helping you get dressed, being nothing but kind to you as he does so. 

And once you’re both dressed, you drive around the city talking about everything and nothing until it’s early in the morning. He then reluctantly drops you off at your car and is quick to make plans to do this all over again because there’s no way he’s only going to do this once. He’s got to see you again because he’s pretty sure that he’s already falling in love with you.

[beomqu]

You wanted this, right? | Lee Jeno

╰┈➤ pairings! : toxic ex!jeno x reader (jaemin x reader)

warnings! : making out, jealousy, rough sex, spanking, jeno loves your ass, mating press, jeno is a manipulator piece of shit

synopsis! : you tried to make him jealous, the need to prove he no longer has a hold on you, but jeno refuses to let go. no matter how hard you try to move on, he pulls you right back in. and the worst part? you don't really want to escape.

wc! : 2.5k

He wanted to get under your skin and he succeeded, but he had no idea you weren't going to back down, not without a fight. Fine. Two can play this game.

From that moment on, your only mission was to make Jeno regret everything, and you just knew the way. The best way to mess with him is through his jealousy issues and you're ready to play that card. Jaemin was at the party too, you knew because ever since the "break" he'd been texting you, filling the empty space Jeno left behind.

Supposedly it was a break, but judging by the way Jeno was making out with some girl, her blonde locks tangled between his fingers as she sucked bruises into his neck you figured you'd gotten your answer. If Jeno could move on so easily why couldn't you? Jaemin could be a lot of fun for you tonight.

The people dancing and jumping around made it hard to pass between them, but getting to the bar was main priority. Getting drunk was step one in your plan. Only problem was that Jeno and his company were stationed there. He would definitely see you.

Not ideal, at least, not yet. Not without Jaemin.

"Tequila," you ordered your drink, voice stern. A tequila is the way to start out.

While the guy was pouring your drink out Jeno noticed you just as he leaned in for another sloppy kiss with the girl pressed up against the wall beneath him. Only this time he didn't close his eyes and when the position let it he maintained eye contact. His lips moved skillfully, his arms caged her in, palms braced against the wall on either side of her head while her hands clung to his chest and neck.

You could almost feel him against your own lips, getting reminded of how he used to hold you and kiss you just like that. But the only thing you craved right now was the bitter taste of tequila, so when it was ready, you drank it and walked away from him without sparing him another glance.

Getting tequila drunk is the real party drunk. You can feel the bass in your veins, all you want to do is dance and scream the lyrics to the music. A few more shots warming up your system got you just there.

You quickly got a couple of shots in your system with the help of Jaemin and Jeno's other friends. All of them started off with the topic of your and Jeno's break, asking how you felt, if you were okay. But the way they invited you to many drinks, the way their touch lingered on you for a second too long told you all you had to know. They weren't mourning Jeno's relationship, it looks like.

Jaemin soon took all of your attention, any little thought of Jeno vanishing the more you looked into his pretty eyes, the more his hands gripped onto your waist. You couldn't restrain yourself, with your hand wrapped around him you pulled him close enough to kiss his neck. You exhaled against his skin, peppering the side of his neck with wet kisses, his collarbones, and any part of his skin you could reach with your mouth.

"Come on pretty," he murmured, voice thick with amusement, "My lips are up here."You haven't kissed anyone but Jeno in years. You hesitated.

"What's wrong?" he raised his eyebrow with a soft smile, "Need some help?" his finger brushed under your chin, tilting your face up to his.

Jeno easily made out with someone else and you're hesitating about kissing Jaemin. It's pathetic how it was hard for you to do the same, you can't let him win.

With the determination to win, you leaned in capturing Jaemin's lips between yours. He let out a low exhale as he eased into you, his hands sliding down to grip your ass. The warmth of his tongue, the way he melted into you, it was intoxicating.

The hunger, the rush of need felt with Jaemin had long been absent with Jeno. The kiss felt electric, your whole body easing into his, letting his hands roam around your body, his touch mapping out places that had gone untouched for far too long.

As you pulled back Jaemin looked dazed, captivated. His eye locked onto you like he couldn't look away from you, not even if he wanted to. You reveled in the way he craved you, showing you he wanted you.

You danced, body moving with the rhythm of the music, Jaemin's fingers intertwined with yours as he spun you around, laughter escaping your lips as he guided you back against him, your back flush against his chest. You continued to dance, grinding on him with the help of his hand guiding your hips. You reached back, fingers threading through his hair, pulling down for another sloppy kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth. Jaemin groaned into the kiss, his hands exploring your body. But you weren't the only one caught up in the moment.

You could feel Jeno watching.

His gaze was heavy, burning a hole through your body, watching how you moved against Jaemin. He mirrored your movements with the girl against him, his strong hands holding her, pulling her close but his eyes? They were locked onto your every move.

The girl ground against him, spun in his arms, even guided Jeno's hand on her chest but it wasn't enough. She couldn't hold his attention the way you could.Your pride pushed you further, you had to show Jeno he doesn't matter to you anymore.

You leaned up, lips brushing against Jaemin's ear.

"I want you, Jaemin." you whispered, voice laced with lust, "Need you so bad." his breath hitched as your nails dug into his skin.

Jaemin chuckled, the sound sweet but dark, "You asked so nicely, Angel. How could I ever say no to you?" his voice dripped with something sinful, but it was the way his finger slipped under the hem of your dress that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I'll get us something to drink and then we can find a quieter place?" he spoke against your shoulder, pressing a soft, teasing kiss on your tender skin before your hands slipped out of his grip.

And just like that, you were alone.

Alone except for the pair of eyes which still lingered on you, only this time closer than before.

"Enjoying the party?" Jeno spoke through gritted teeth, towering over you as he looked down into your eyes with a piercing gaze.

"Are you not?" you shot back, look unwavering.

"Not anymore."

"Oh? So now I'm bothering you? Don't you have something better to do?" you turned, ready to walk away. He wasn't about to ruin your night, not when Jaemin showed you what it was like to be wanted unlike him.

"No, I don't."

He reached for your hand, stopping you in your tracks, his hold was firm, almost desperate. "You know there's nothing better than you."

You scoffed, "That didn't seem like it five minutes ago when you had your tongue down someone else's throat." He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him, "She's not a better kisser than you," Jeno spoke with a low voice, lips inching closer to yours, "And I know Jaemin is not better than me."

As much as you wanted him to be wrong, he didn't lie. You should have fought back, pushed him away, and screamed at him to fuck off, but you didn't. Instead, you melted into him.

Your arms sneaked around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Just for a moment, you felt whole with him, his touch, his lips, even when you knew you shouldn't. His lips moved like they always belonged against yours, like they never left.

Jeno has way too much power over you, you shouldn't crave his touch and shouldn't have ever let him control you like this.

But God you wanted him.

He pulled back, and you thought you were dreaming, that he was never actually here, and you felt your world shatter again, until you felt a pull at your hand. Jeno's warm hand held yours like they used to, guiding you away from the crowd, up the stairs where there were less people. He didn't stop until he found an unoccupied room, locking the door behind you.

"Jeno-" His strong hand grabbed under your thigh, lifting you over his shoulder with ease, drawing a surprised yelp out of you. On the way to the bed he couldn't resist, he slapped your ass with his free hand and harshly bit down on your skin.

"Quiet." he shut you up before you could make a sound, throwing you on the bed. He didn't leave you a second to move he flipped you over and lifted your dress higher until your ass was on full display for him. Jeno's hand roughly threaded the skin on your butt before he kneeled down in front of the bed to press wet kisses over the faded red mark that his hand had left there.

All your attention was focused on him, not noticing as his hand quickly slipped your panties off you, only gasping as you felt his warm, wet tongue on your hole.

You sighed loudly, toes curling at the feeling. You whimpered out his name, his hand moving to spank you again before diving back between your cheeks.

With one finger he collected your dripping arousal before fucking it back into you, his digit curling inside of your tight pussy.

His mouth was occupied, but you wished he would talk to you. Wish he would say anything, apologize to you or just make you feel loved after leaving you for weeks with zero contact. But you didn't have enough willpower to confront him, not when he fingered you so good.

Before you could feel the knot in your tummy build up he stood up, leaving your wet pussy empty and unattended.

"Please Jeno..." he left your mind foggy, that was all you could whimper out.

He let out a low chuckle, "You want me to fuck you so bad it makes you look stupid." he was right, you were his dumb little toy. All it took him was a couple of words, and you threw yourself at him.

If you had more pride, you wouldn't be in this position, but instead, you gripped the sheets when you heard him unbuckle his belt.

"My stupid little girl." his voice was soothing and soft as he spread your cheeks, his tip lingering at your entrance. You bit your lips in anticipation and closed your eyes wanting to focus on him completely.

His cock slowly entered you, filling you up halfway through already, but he didn't stop until your hips were flush against his. Your eyes rolled back, and pained whimpers escaped your lips while you got used to his size again after weeks of not feeling him.

"Fuck, you're so big," you blurted out before you clenched your jaw, a shaky breath leaving through your nose.

You reached behind you and grabbed his thigh to stop him from moving, but he pushed your hand away. The bed squeaked as he put his right leg up on the wooden frame, both his hands roughly grabbing your hips, his weight pressing you into the mattress. The position made it easier for him to thrust into you and fuck you so hard it made your skin red.

"S-slow down," you begged while Jeno fucked you, moves coordinated and rough. He didn't listen, your words might have only encouraged him.

The tip of his dick hit your tight walls right where you needed it the most while his heavy thrusts created a contrast. It hurt so good.

"You thought you could get away with flirting with my friends, hmm?" one of Jeno's hand slipped from your waist to your head, pushing it into the mattress. Your moans became muffled by the sheets each time his dick hit your spot.

You couldn't reply even if you wanted to.

"Kissing with Jaemin right in front of me? What have you become? You're a slut now?"

"Fuck—"

"Answer me, Baby." a pained hiss escaped you as he took hold of your hair and pulled you up slightly, forcing you to arch your back.

You grabbed over his hand, hoping he would loosen his grip, "I only want you."

"Liar."

All you could hear from him was heavy breathing, he didn't let out another sound. The sound of skin slapping took over the whole room only a faint sound of music infiltrated through the closed door.

He let go of your hair, your head fell back into the mattress. As you looked behind you, Jeno's lips were pursed as if he was actively trying to keep in his noises. His neck glistened from the sweat, skin decorated with purple bruises that he got not even an hour ago. With each thrust, his moves became clumsy and desperate, you knew he was getting closer and so were you.

He leaned over you to angle his hips, making you almost scream as he hit your spots over and over, pleasure taking over your whole body. All you could do was close your eyes and take everything he's giving you.

"Oh god..." tears swell in your eyes, but he didn't stop.

"Fuck," he held his breath, selfishly chasing his own high, only using you for his pleasure.

You couldn't even warn him, the band in your tummy tightened and finally snapped, and you came all over his cock.

Your legs began to shake from overstimulation, still Jeno showed no signs if stopping yet.

"Fuck, Jeno..." he couldn't hold in his groans anymore, he thrust inside you a few more times before pulling you against himself and burying his dick deep inside of you. His muscles tensed up as he came inside you, filling you up completely. Jeno took a few moments to himself before he pulled out and collapsed on top of you.

A shiver ran down your spine as his cold finger traced your arm, his hold tightening around you. The air was thick, with everything left unsaid, both of you needing a moment to breathe before facing the inevitable.

"Baby," Jeno whispered softly, his voice almost hesitant, "I don't like seeing you with other men."

You let out a heavy sigh, too drained to argue with him, "I don't like seeing you kiss other girls either, but you broke up with me."

"I know." his grip on you tightened, his lips finding the spots he'd been rough with earlier, pressing gentle, remorseful kisses to your skin.

"I'm sorry, I want to be a better boyfriend for you."

"I love you."

Did he mean it? You weren't sure. But you loved him. And right now that was all that mattered.

You can't resist him, not even Jaemin can have your attention the way Jeno does.

[jinxvex]

omg haiii :3 #1 i just found your account and i love your works! the way you write is just… mwahmwahmwah. besides that! i’d love it if u could do a jinx x reader where reader is lowkey oblivious but jinx is super obvious with how much she wants to fuck… and when she finally gets to hit she degrades and dumbifies reader… orrrr am i just thirsty 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

♱ fantasy. ♱

oh girl this is sexy trust, WE IS THIRSTY TEW!! also thank you, you’re so sweet!! i’m glad you enjoy my works :))

syp. the first time jinx set her glowy shimmer-charged eyes on you, she knew she had to have you—and she always gets what she wants. no matter that you were friends and you were oblivious to her constantly undressing you with her eyes, fighting her urges to completely ruin, defile, and destroy you. you’d come to realize soon enough.

cw: nsfw content!!, dom!jinx plotting on that p***y (lol), sub!reader (i'm a switch!jinx truther but let me cook...), a lot of degrading + dumbification, cursing, dirty talk, some praise, teasing, mocking, she forces you to take it!!, mentions of oral/fingering/gun-play, strap-on sex, hair-pulling, pet names (toots, hon, babe, baby, bunny, etc?), possessiveness, nastiness galore (lord forgive me!), reader’s past sex life is purposefully written to be vague, + prob more

wc: 4.2k!!

jinx’s fantasies involving you started a month ago when she was off roaming the rowdy streets of the undercity for a market sale. well, before it. she had begrudgingly taken up silco’s orders to keep tabs on the shipment coming in and out before the market opened to the public. for what? ‘who freakin’ knows?!’ she thought.

in retrospect, jinx was never an overly sexual person. she understood what it was, why people participated in it, and her own sexual preferences but she’d never devoted much time to finding someone to fuck or to fuck her for that matter. she's fucked before, but that was it. plunging her long, slender fingers into her own cunt while reading a racy scene in a shitty romance novel was enough to get her rocks off. she figured something was missing but she brushed it off.

her mind was… elsewhere most of the time.

(a month ago...)

lost in her thoughts, per usual, jinx doesn’t see you standing in all your beautiful glory. she walks right past you, eyes darting along everything she can see to accurately take in the information silco wants her to report back to him. she's still preoccupied with the inner workings of her mind and not too much with the zaunite public.

well, that's bound to change one way or another.

suddenly, she's stopping dead in her tracks. something's changed. the air feels charged, full of opportunity and something else. curly lines, shapes, and colorful graphics fill her vision—overwhelming but she feels as though she can really see clearly for the first time.

her nostrils catch a whiff of something… sweet. inviting. like freshly baked cookies although it's almost incomparable to how truly delectable the scent is. she's taken by surprise at the smell of something so good, good enough to eat, to devour. she’s never smelt anything or anyone so delicious. it intrigued her beyond belief, she knew that whatever it was, she was going to have that thing.

that’s when in her own self-induced frenzy she'd caused by frantically turning and thrashing around to look for where the smell led her, she sees you for the first time. as radiant as ever.

everything's in slow motion.

you're leaning up against a metal post and speaking to a market vendor, your voice as sweet as ever chatting to them about ‘who the fuck cares’. your smile is the brightest she’d ever seen living in a place full of drug addicts, violence, and poverty like you’ve never been subjected to zaun in your entire life.

she watches as you flip your hair to one side, hips swaying and fingers twiddling against your satchel. she watches you so intently, that she can see your eyes blinking slowly, she can count your individual eyelashes and remember the number for the rest of her life.

to say the least, jinx is enamored by the sight of you, let alone your smell. images of how good you'd look naked, and what your skin would feel like against hers cloud her vision, creating the perfect first impression of you in her mind. she looks further at you, specifically your ass and the jeans hugging it perfectly as well as the curve of your hips. the veins in your neck travel further down beneath your shirt and she can't help but wonder what your chest would look like.

bare.

before this moment, she'd never thought of somebody in such a vulgar light; it put her in a state of shock. she let her mind wander even farther off into jinx-landia and she imagines what it would feel like to slide her fingers into your pussy and press the pads of them onto your g-spot. she wants to know what it feels like to feel you get wetter and wetter and what it feels like to make out with your pussy—to push your own juices into your mouth and kiss you dumb. she thinks about testing how deep your cunt could get—how pretty your ass would look riding a cock, tits bouncing in the air.

controlling herself was something jinx always had problems with, so she isn't surprised when she is unable to stop herself from approaching you. her feet seem to be dragging themselves towards you like some sort of magnetic force.

“hiya, toots,” spills from her lips before she can even stop and think about what she's doing.

you pause your conversation with whomever you're speaking to, looking over in her direction to find her staring intently at you. confused and a little petrified, you stand up straighter, as you aren't expecting silco’s adoptive daughter to be staring you down at the beginning of some random ass tuesday morning.

“uhm, hey,” you respond, sounding more like a question rather than a greeting in return.

‘this is gonna be so much fun,’ jinx’s eyes light up and she lets her lips curl up in a friendly smirk, running through ways in her mind how exactly she’d ruin your body, mark you up, and claim you for herself.

because no matter what, nobody else is ever getting a piece of you now that she's sought you out.

no fuckin’ way.

…

somewhere in the present, there’s an idea—a certain narrative established between you and jinx.

you’re friends. good ones.

you don't know what else would explain the obvious liking jinx has taken to you. what else would explain the way she’s always touching you, looking after you, and asking you personal questions? questions so personal they have your eyes widening and gripping the edges of your clothes.

"have you ever, y'know, done it before? had sex?"

"what sorta stuff you into? like, sex stuff."

"you ever touch yourself? what feels the best? just trying to see if i could learn somethin' interesting for myself."

you never answer, often opting to lower your head in silence. how could you? it was wildly inappropriate and quite frankly, jinx made you shy. maybe it's because she's so pretty, and bold, and has a waist so small and touchable that you just want to-

no! 'why does she care so much?' you ask yourself frequently. no friend has ever been so crass...

duh! she gives a shit because she wants to fuck your brains out 'n then maybe cuddle you a bit! but you don't know that...

jinx follows you around too, insisting you need protecting since "you're too pretty 'n perfect" to not have protection.

one day, she started walking you to your god-awful job and never stopped. her excuse was, "can't have anyone takin' advantage of ya so early in the morning, princess. janna knows they'd try with a face 'n a body like that...whew", she whistled to herself.

needless to say, she kept your life interesting. she always seems to find you, no matter where you are. like she can sense your presence anywhere. you figure she doesn't have many people to talk to, everyone's scared of her being silco's daughter and all. but, you don't have anyone either; no parents or friends. no girlfriend.

well that makes two of you. sort of.

you both are currently smushed together on her sofa in her hideout making bracelets—snacks, craft supplies, and sleepover galore surrounding you. earlier on in the day, jinx had swung by your apartment (how she found out where you lived, you had no clue) and invited you over for a sleepover for the first time. you were surprised she was trusting you enough to let you see where she retreats at night and where she spends most of her time eating, sleeping, plotting; scheming.

she has a knack for making you feel special; like it’s just you two in the world and nothing else matters.

she makes you feel alive.

you’re shaken out of your thoughts by a grinning jinx. yes, physically shaken. both of her palms are placed on your shoulders, gripping them tight and looking into your eyes almost as a way to silently ask if you’re having as much fun as her. heat transfers from her usually cold hands to your skin which has you internally reeling. you’re wearing a tank top, comfortable enough with her to show a little something extra, “whatcha thinkin’ about, hon?”

you smile back at her, “nothing.”

you swear you see her eyes flicker down to your chest for a split second but you ignore it. her eyes move quick due to the shimmer, ‘you’re seeing shit, girl’ claims the angel on your shoulder.

“hmm, you’re lying.”

“am not!” you counter.

“are too,” she doubles back.

“whatever.” you finalize, emphasizing the ‘ever’. you’re not interested in arguing with her any further or giving her the satisfaction of proving her right.

you focus on the friendship bracelet you’re creating for her, determined to make it as pretty as you can for her. you want her to wear it—like it. love it, even. it fills you with a sick satisfaction knowing that soon you’d be wearing each other's creations, way more than it would if you just saw her as a friend. you see her pause her movements out of the corner of your eye but you keep going.

the faint sound of her own bracelet dropping to the couch cushion causes your head to rise up, looking at her in slight confusion. you’re not shocked to realize that she’s already looking at you.

“’m bored,” jinx replies blankly, pouting cutely.

“and grass is green. what else is new? you’re always bored, girl,” you playfully nudge her arm.

“well… grass has more of a grey hue down here so-“

the funny but slightly depressing joke nearly flew over your head but the knowing smirk on her face clued you in on her shenanigans.

you gasp in disbelief and nudge her arm a little harder now, fighting to stifle your laugh under your breath, “ha ha. very funny.”

“yeah, toots. i’m extremely hilarious,” she holds her head up high and crosses her arms above her chest.

she pauses, “let’s play somethin’.

she faces you fully now, right knee switching from resting next to your left to mirroring both of your knees, parallel to you. she scoots closer, and by now you know her calculating personality. you know that whatever she’s up to, has to be mischievous.

“ever hear of truth or dare?”

you roll your eyes, “of course i have!”

“then, you know the rules… right?”

“yes, jinx. i know how to play,” you rebuttal.

maybe you should’ve known her attention span wouldn’t last long while bracelet making. even if the speaker blared her favorite music at her gadget station, filling the space with a comfortable ambiance.

she smiles widely, “then let’s fuckin’ play!

“it’ll be so. much. fun,” she gets closer to your face with each word to emphasize her point, biting her lip and giving you intense eye contact. sexually charged eye contact. but again, you don't realize.

“fine. fine! but you’re going first. you're better at this sorta thing.”

she leans back to give you more space, just enough space to where it's socially acceptable to still be incredibly close to your friend. she's clapping her manicured hands together as her smile grows bigger and her shoulders tense with excitement.

"truth or dare?!" she asks in a televised over-dramatic fashion.

"truth."

'too easy' she thought. although, 'this is good,' her thoughts linger further. she figures she should start you off easy.

jinx has now stopped her clapping to put a finger on her chin in a thinking motion, obviously pretending to conjure up an interesting question that she's probably already picked out in her head.

"hmm...have you ever had a boyfriend?" she asks confidently, putting emphasis on the 'boy' part of "boyfriend" in a mocking manner; like how a sibling or family member would tease you about a crush.

your eyes widen, already caught off-guard by her first question.

"uhm... no. i-i don't really like boys like that."

she licks her lower lip and smiles once again, unbeknownst to you because you've just confirmed that she actually has a chance to win you over. although, she had her suspicions when she first met you.

"ever had a girlfriend?" she questions further, a serious, eerie edge to her voice appearing at the thought of you ever even romantically touching another girl. hell, in any way, shape, or form.

blinking rapidly, you shut her down quickly, "what, no! never really got the… chance to."

initially, you were going to tease her by mentioning that she was only allowed to ask one question but, you couldn't help but shake the feeling that she wasn't going down without an answer from you.

"awesome, good to know! your turn."

"okay. truth or da-"

"dare," she cuts you off delightedly.

you file through your mind to give her something entertaining to do but you find absolutely nothing, your mind blank like always the very moment you get around her. jinx makes you feel like you don't have to live your life thinking so hard. it's peaceful.

"damn, you are bad at this game," she snorts.

"hey, i can't help it. you've gotta help me here."

she raises a brow, "i mean, you could ask me t'do basically anything. y'know i'd do it," she slowly cocks her head to the side, still gazing deep into your irises. her braids follow the movement of her head.

"make it nasty."

"what the hell am i supposed to do? tell you to take off your clothes?!"

she doesn't waver, "yeah. yeah, that's a good one. do it."

you gulp, throat now dryer than ever and your fingers hurt from tightly grasping the fabric of your sleep shorts, 'here goes nothing.'

"u-uh... i dare you to t-take off your shirt," you order weakly.

jinx doesn't even let you finish your sentence before she's crossing her arms in front of her to tug the tiny, thin tank top off of her body, you follow her hands and you watch her chuck it on the floor carelessly. you look back up at her only to realize that,

she isn’t fucking wearing a bra.

you gasp in shock and secret arousal, eyes darting to the spot below you as you avoid looking at her soft, perky chest any longer, not wanting to over-step or make her uncomfortable.

"hey, you're startin' to hurt my feelings, babe. gave you that idea for a reason. makes shit more... interesting."

you look up to meet her eyes and for the nth time, you see her staring right back at you, gaze charged with something more than usual. you may have been oblivious, but you weren't dumb, something was definitely going on here. something that friends shouldn't do alone.

but you can't stop. it's turning you on.

the game continues on for many rounds after that, you and jinx switching back and forth from truth and dare, learning more and more about each other as time passes by. you start to get the hang of her outlandish questions, answering them shyly but not as reluctant as before. something you'd never get used to was the hypnotizing way her tits bounced with each slight movement, entrancing you. you learn that she's had sex once before and that she likes rope play and getting her hair pulled.

she also mentions other personal traits of hers that make your head spin, "y'know when i get wet, i get reeeally wet. like water wet."

needless to say, you know more than you should. she seemed to not mind telling you these things either, almost excited to clue you in.

"truth or dare, baby?"

"truth," you choose once more, the pet name affecting your better judgment and the seductive tinge to her voice causing the wetness already present in your underwear to leak through to your shorts.

jinx doesn't attempt to pretend to think of a question, "tell me, toots. what turns you on? what gets ya goin'?"

"what do you mean? like some sort of a kink?"

"yeah, like a kink."

embarrassment falls over your face like a dam breaking. you have to lie. this was getting too up close and personal for your own good and the only thing that could save what's left of your dignity is a lie.

"i-i don't know..."

so much for a lie.

her unhappiness with your answer is expressed when you see her narrowing her eyes at you. she leans in close, nose brushing yours and you can feel her warm breath on your face, "i know you're lying," she says real sing-songy-like. she's teasing you, and enjoying it.

her slender finger points in your face, “no fair! showed you my tits, toots! play by the rules."

"okay! okay! god, this is so fucking embarrassing-"

"c'mon..," she urges you on, eager to learn more about your sexual side and what takes you cream. she desired to know what made your pussy wet before she stuffed you full. but again, you don't know that.

"i-um. i read something onc-,”

she cuts you off once again, “don’t got all day!”

you sigh, “okay! i like getting called names. mean ones,” you blurt out quickly—sick of her antics.

“and i think i like it…rougher?”

her seemingly continuous stare falters for a split second before a bubbly laugh escapes her throat, smiling bigger and better than she has all day.

“oh, yeah? you like it… rough? you like getting treated like you’re nothin’?” she laughs out incredulously and somehow she’s gotten closer to you, lips almost close enough to graze yours.

“jinx… i- what are you-“

“what if we… played somethin’ else? somethin’ a little more worth our while.”

she figures, ‘ay, i’ve waited long enough…i need her'.

“like what?” you inquire even though you're no longer oblivious, catching on to what she means by “somethin’ else.” you feign innocence.

you feel a calculating hand travel up your leg, they’re slightly sweaty and cold which makes a shiver crawl down your spine. your chest visibly quickens, eyebrows furrowing, and eyes glossy with desire. jinx, still maintaining eye contact with you, remains calm although internally jumping for joy as she's finally got you where she wanted you the moment she laid eyes on you.

"how wet are ya right now, toots? you look like you're 'bout to cream your fuckin' pants!"

you audibly gasp, and she continues,

"i bet you're just drippin' down there... this whole time i've been sittin' here thinkin' you're being tortured answering all my questions, but, the entire time you've been gettin' off to it, haven't ya?!"

a single tear gathers in your eye out of complete and utter embarrassment. despite that, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't fucking love it.

her hand stops at the edge of your top, fiddling softly with it, "you can tell me to stop, baby! but, i have a feeling you don't want that," she whispers against your lips. you feel her tug the bottom of your tank top tighter, balling it in her clammy fist.

"dont! d-dont stop."

and just like that, a switch flips in her head. she's grabbing the back of your neck and smushing her lips against yours, capturing them in a searing kiss that has your lips aching. as soon as you feel her tongue attempt to break into your mouth, you let her in.

you initially jump in surprise but quickly sink into the kiss once you get used to the overwhelming contrast between her cold hands clutching your waist and her warm lips pressed on your lips. soon, she's basically drooling into your mouth, tongue trailing over every detail of the inside of your mouth as if she's trying to memorize the space. it's disgusting, really. but, it makes your cunt sloppy.

jinx breaks the kiss to pull your top over your head. she throws it on top of hers. the same one she abandoned long ago at the start of the game. it creates a small heap on the floor of her cozy abode.

"fuckin' whore," she laughs.

you moan, biting your lip softly as a seductive tactic to keep her kissing you.

"wooow!!" she drags out humorously, pressing her hand against your throat and tightening slowly with each word that comes out of her mouth, "you really are a slut. you like when i'm mean, slut?"

you nod, words seemingly impossible to form at this point.

she tightens her hold on you, bringing your neck closer so her mouth resides next to your ear, "if you don't speak up, i'm gonna make it hurt. 's gonna hurt so bad, bunny. gonna torture you. ‘n i know it’s our first time and all! don’t wanna have to scare ya just yet!"

unable to stop rambling, she continues, "hmm... maybe i'll shove the biggest fucking cock i have into your tight cunt... no prep! betcha you'd take it so well. hell, you'd probably like it! you're nasty like that."

"maybe i'll stuff my gun in there...with the bullets inside."

"please, jinx. fuck me.”

she just smiles, “i thought you’d never ask.”

…

you swear you see your life flash before your eyes because of how hard jinx is pounding your poor, abused cunt into the couch cushion. she has you face down—ass up with your hands held together behind your back by her own hands. your face rests on the couch arm, halfway visible to her so she can marvel at your eyes rolling to the back of your head and crossing achingly.

her own eyes roll at the sight of you in such a lewd state, “fuck, toots! you’re takin’ this cock so good. suckin’ me in your pussy like a good little cockslut. mmph. jus' swallowing it whole, fuck!!"

her pace is fast but calculated; and planned. as always. she’s roughly rolling her hips into yours to produce the addictive whore-ish moans to spill from your mouth. she’s also focused on watching her cock disappear in you, your cunt swallowing her cock like it was supposed to be there. the open space is filled with creamy cunt sounds and skin-slapping noises.

“holy fuckin’ shit, hear that? ya hear that pussy creaming ‘round my dick? she’s talkin’ to me, baby!”

you speak, remembering her resentment towards you not responding to her, “y-yes! i-i do, jinxie.”

“yeah?! you think she’s tryin’ to tell me how much she loves me? how much she loves when i split her open on my dick?” she reaches below your stomach to slap at your clit right where the balls on the faux cock meet your skin and you shudder in pleasure.

“fucking love your dick, ‘s so good, s-shit!”

it’s like her mouth won’t stop. she’s relentless—bullying you with her words as well as her cock. jinx pulls you up by your hair so your upper body mirrors hers. she slows her pace to thrust deeper and harder in you, damn near knocking the wind out of you. that causes to you choke on your breath, and your mouth is open as far as it can go.

“h-hah! aww… ‘s just sooo good, isn’t it?"

"see what happens when you’re good for me? good lil’ whores get good dick, ‘n i love givin’ it to ya, hon.”

you’re uncontrollably moaning, voice echoing loudly as you beg her for more—to wreck you.

“more! m-more please!”

“more?!“ she removes her hand from your head to dig her nails into your hips so she can get deeper, so she can open you up.

“you. want. fuckin’. more?!” she slams into your pussy with each word.

your pussy is drooling with your arousal and the shared sweat between you and jinx. you can feel it squelching down your legs with every thrust and throaty laugh she lets out at your pathetic form.

“god, you should see yourself. such’a perfect slut.”

with every word you feel your pussy quiver, getting closer and closer to cumming around her cock. when you curl your toes and inch off of her to prevent yourself from orgasming a whopping 3 minutes in she’s not having it, quickening her pace but keeping her almost-painful thrusts deep.

“nope! gonna take it all. ya asked for it, toots! you begged me to stick my dick in you. so take all of it.”

“b-but ‘m gonna cum! don't wanna yet! oh my god, p-please!!” you beg her for the slightest bit of mercy.

uncaring, she leans down next to the side of your head, lowering her voice, “you’re gonna fuckin’ cum, ‘n you’re gonna cum telling me whose pussy this is. who’s is it, babe?”

“who’s feedin’ this cunt good dick?!”

“you, you! only you.”

“yeah, ‘s me. cum, toots. soak me—get me wet.”

and that was it, “fuck! ‘m cumming!”

you release a soul-crushing moan and triggered by your sudden high, you grip the edges of the couch arm and fuck your ass back on her to deepen her thrusts if that’s even possible. wetness squirts from your cunt and everywhere around you, soaking the entire space below you including jinx’s lower half. the last thing you remember before you pass the fuck out is the hazy, content look on her face and incoherent mumbles that probably consisted of,

“that was way better than a fuckin’ fantasy.”

…

PLEASE TAKE THIS FOOD WHILE I WORK ON MY SEV REQS!!🙏🏽🫣...

[cursedcanon]

Jjk men in a relationship with somoene shorter than them.

Characters: Gojo, Choso, Sakuna, Geto, Toji, Nanami, Yuji and megumi

GOJO

Gojo would love the height difference and never let you forget it. He’s constantly resting his arm on your head, lifting you off the ground just to tease you, or holding things out of your reach so you have to jump for them. But beyond the teasing, he’s incredibly protective. As a non-sorcerer, you’re fragile in his world, and that terrifies him more than he lets on. He always keeps a close eye on you, and if he ever senses danger, he teleports you somewhere safe immediately. Despite being the strongest, he loves how normal you are—it’s grounding for him. Expect spontaneous dates, endless sweets, and him being incredibly clingy when he’s not working.

Affection Style: Super touchy—always pulling you into hugs, ruffling your hair, or carrying you around just because he can.

Pet Names: Shortie, Angel, Cutie, My Love

CHOSO

Choso is naturally very gentle with you, aware of his own strength and size. He rarely teases about the height difference and instead finds it endearing—sometimes he even bends down when talking to you just to make sure you're comfortable. As a non-sorcerer, he worries about your safety a lot. He doesn’t want you near jujutsu battles or curses, and he’ll always walk you home, even if it means following you in the shadows. He’s incredibly warm and affectionate, but his love language is more about acts of service—bringing you food, fixing things for you, and making sure you're always taken care of.

Affection Style: Protective and soft—he’ll hold your hand in public, press kisses to your forehead, and tuck you into his side when you’re walking together.

Pet Names: Little One, Beloved, My Treasure

SAKUNA

Sukuna sees the height difference as another way to assert his dominance. He lives to tease you—patting your head like a child, smirking down at you, and making jokes about how “fragile” you are. But beneath all of that, he’s insanely possessive. The fact that you’re a non-sorcerer makes him even more territorial—you're his, and he won’t let anything or anyone hurt you. He’s not the type to be openly affectionate, but when he does show it, it’s intense. He’ll lift you onto his lap when he's in the mood, tilt your chin up to make you look at him, and dare you to defy him. He might act cocky, but deep down, having someone as soft and human as you actually soothes him.

Affection Style: Rough but passionate—he’ll grip your chin when he kisses you, pull you onto his lap, and smirk every time you have to crane your neck to look at him.

Pet Names: Brat, Pet, Mine (he’s not one for cutesy names, but you are his.)

GETO

Geto is surprisingly sweet about the height difference. He loves that you’re shorter than him and enjoys wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your head. He’s very gentle with you, especially since you’re a non-sorcerer—he sees you as something pure in his otherwise dark world. He doesn’t want you involved in jujutsu society, and he’ll do everything to keep you safe from it. That said, he’s also possessive—he won’t make a scene if someone flirts with you, but his aura alone is enough to make them back off. He has a soft spot for spoiling you, whether it’s bringing you gifts or just pulling you into his lap after a long day.

Affection Style: Soft but protective—he’s always touching you in some way, whether it’s holding your hand or brushing your hair back.

Pet Names: Sweetheart, Doll, Little One

TOJI

Toji lives for the height difference. He teases you constantly—resting his arm on your head, calling you fun-sized, and effortlessly lifting you up just because he can. He’s cocky and playful, but underneath that, he’s insanely protective. The fact that you’re a non-sorcerer makes him hyper-aware of your fragility, and though he plays it cool, he’d go feral if anyone or anything threatened you. Toji isn’t always the best with words, but he shows his love through physical touch—throwing an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his lap, or just carrying you over his shoulder if you’re walking too slow.

Affection Style: Playful but protective—he teases you nonstop, but his touch is always firm and grounding, like he’s reminding himself that you’re safe.

Pet Names: Shortcake, Doll, Bunny (he likes that you’re smaller and softer than him).

NANAMI

Nanami doesn’t tease you about your height—he actually finds it endearing. He loves subtle things, like how you have to tilt your head to look at him or how your hand is smaller than his when he holds it. He treats you with quiet, deep affection, always making sure you’re safe, warm, and comfortable. As a non-sorcerer, he knows you don’t belong in his world of danger, so he keeps you as far from it as possible. Nanami is a gentleman—he’ll always place his hand on the small of your back when guiding you, offer you his coat when it’s cold, and give you the kind of unwavering devotion that makes you feel truly loved.

Affection Style: Subtle but deeply caring—he’ll brush hair from your face, hold your hand without a word, and make sure you never have to lift a finger if he can do something for you.

Pet Names: Darling, Love, Sweetheart

ITADORI

Yuji adores the height difference—it makes him want to protect you even more. He’s a golden retriever boyfriend, always hugging you, holding your hand, and getting excited whenever he sees you. He loves that you’re a non-sorcerer because it gives him a sense of normalcy, something to hold onto in his chaotic life. He’s always looking out for you—walking on the side of the sidewalk closest to traffic, texting you to make sure you’re safe, and giving you his hoodie when you’re cold (even though it’s way too big on you). He’s the type to lift you up and spin you around when he hugs you, completely oblivious to how strong he is.

Affection Style: Super touchy—he’s all about hugs, hand-holding, and forehead kisses. He loves physical closeness.

Pet Names: Babe, Cutie, Snugglebug (yes, he would call you something ridiculous and own it).

MEGUMI

Megumi acts like the height difference doesn’t matter, but secretly, he finds it adorable. He won’t tease you outright, but he will silently enjoy the way you have to look up at him. Unlike the others, he’s not big on PDA, but he shows he cares in little ways—offering you his scarf when it’s cold, making sure you’re on the inside of the sidewalk, and subtly stepping in front of you if he senses danger. He’s very protective, especially since you’re a non-sorcerer, and though he won’t always voice his concerns, his actions make it clear. He’s not great at verbal affection, but if you catch him off guard, you might hear him mumble something like, "I like that you’re small… easier to keep safe."

Affection Style: Reserved but thoughtful—he’ll carry your bags without asking, stand close enough to shield you, and quietly watch over you like a loyal wolf.

Pet Names: Dummy (affectionately), Angel, (Your Name) (he’s not one for excessive nicknames, but he says your name in a way that makes it sound special).

[pricesprincess]

smut mdni | since this won

How far did you let the claws of depravity take hold of you? Sinking sharp in your tender flesh so easily like a pin poking through paper, hooking you on John Price.

You were danging from him like a piece of meat, and he enjoyed every bit, not minding that you're his best friend's daughter. Young and so eager to please him, all doe-eyed and sweet smiles.

All the flirting over the last year when you met him at dinner one summer you came home bubbled over the rim of the forbidden cup you both drank from, the liquid staining you like a deep wine.

You've always been a free spirit, traveling everywhere you could experience life, and after that night, you went back more often, staying on the weekends to hang out with John.

Anytime you were there, you always made time for him first before anything or anyone else, always craving his presence and laughter.

It happened one evening when your dad was called into work right as his friend knocked on the door, ready for steak and beer while watching the glowing screen to forget about the daily grind.

Your dad kissed your forehead, leaving you with John, promising he would return in an hour. Plenty of time for him to devour you whole, sweet, and ripe for the picking, dressed in sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

Playing the host so graciously, you brought him an open beer, handing it to him with a shy smile before settling on the couch next to John. It was hard to ignore his presence, heavy and lingering.

A simple conversation about how your classes were going at the local university led to his hand moving to rest on your knee hearing your breath hitch, his palm was rough against your smooth, soft skin.

So easily, you melted under his touch. John slid his hand up your thigh as he leaned in, making you forget your sentence, causing him to chuckle at your flustered state, wanting him to lean in and kiss you.

"Ah, an eager thing. Aren't we?" He husked, his accent thick like honey settling in your core as you scooted over; your left leg was now thrown over his, gasping and quivering when his finger teased you.

John traced the lace trim of your panties, watching you intently, his blue eyes transfixing you on him. He was so close your breaths were mingling, and all you wanted was for him to slide his fingers inside you, but he was a tease, his touch growing bolder and slow.

You pouted and grasped his living room, guiding his fingers under the fabric of your panties, hearing him grunt low in his throat at how wet you were for him, thick strings of slick coating your pussylips.

Finally, he granted you your wish and kissed you as his middle and ring fingers teased your fluttering entrance, making you whimper against his lips as you bucked your hips with a soft cry.

It had been a hot minute since you'd been with anyone, and your mind was only focused on one thing: an orgasm. You panted, tucking your face in John's neck, inhaling his scent as he finger fucked you nice and slow, feeling you grow wetter, gushing on his palm.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, making you shiver as he slowed the pace. "So wet for me, princess," John murmured, feeling you hump, his fingers whining and feeling flustered.

Everything stilled as your orgasm rose high like a tidal wave before crashing over you. "There we go." John cooed, his thumb circling your clit, making you gasp and jerk your hips tilting your head back.

Ragged gasps heaved your chest while you rode out your high, nuzzling your head against John before kissing him, pecking his lips with a soft giggle as he pulled his fingers from you slowly, making you wince, but it melted into a groan as he sucked you off him.

You moved between John's spread legs with a sly smile as your hands reached for his belt, slowly unbuckling it. "You're going to be the death of me, sweetheart." He watched you with a dark gaze.

His legs spread wider, giving you space to settle between John's thighs, one hand perched on his knee while the other unbuckled his belt slowly, teasing him, but your patience wore thin.

John chuckled as you used both hands to free his cock; fat and weeping, feeling your jaw go slack at the sight. He smelt faintly of sweat, but it was his musk, thick and all man, making you quiver.

Not wasting any more time, you leaned in and kissed the tip as your eyes flickered up to him, opening your mouth to lick a wide stripe down to his shaft, hearing him grunt low in his throat as you unhinged your jaw further, taking him halfway in your mouth.

The living room was thick with anticipation as you slowly bobbed your head, letting spit pool in the corner of your lips, making the blowjob wet and sticky with the spit that bubbled around your mouth.

You pulled away with a thick string of saliva connecting from your lips to the head of John's spit-shined cock, your fingers wrapped around the base of him, slowly jerking him off as you suckled the tip letting his breathy pants spur you on despite the hard floor on your knees.

As you leaned in, the door opened, followed by the heavy stomps of your dad's boots. "I got out earlier!" He called out, coming closer to the living room where everything moved in slow motion as you scrambled to your feet and hurried upstairs, panting hard.

Trying to ignore the ache between your legs, you settled on your bed with a frustrated grunt, hearing John and your father talk, the strain in John's voice was thick and filled with irritation, but he masked it, knowing that tomorrow he would get you one way or another.

[twilight0wanderer]

Special Interest Detected, Prepare for Incoming Infodump ;D (for context, I'm an aerospace engineer with one of my primary foci being orbital mechanics).

To start: all orbits are elliptical (circular orbits can sufficiently approximate some real orbits, but no truly circular orbit is known to exist). The center of mass of the two objects occupies one focus of the ellipse and the other is empty. Since most commonly discussed orbits involve a significant difference of mass between the two objects, we normally treat the larger object as being centered on the occupied focus, because it's close enough. (sidenote: we've known about elliptical orbits longer than we've understood gravity, thanks to Kepler)

@starburstdragon If I understand correctly, you're asking if the empty node of an orbital ellipse exhibits rotation about the occupied node, leading to the whole ellipse rotating. If that's what you're asking, then yes, that can and does occur, and it's called Apsidal Precession.

Sidenote on Precession: at least in orbital mechanics, the terms refers to the shifting of an ostensibly fixed reference axis, usually at a much slower rate than the rate of motion relative to the axis. As such, while Earth (and pretty much everything else) does experience axial precession, that's a wobble in the axis itself, while it's the axial tilt that creates seasons.

On to the question of seasons itself, and note here that I'm not a climatologist, so this is based on what I have studied of atmospheric science within the context of aerospace, what I've picked up on my own, and inferences based on those sources. Anyone with more expertise, please jump in. That said, I'm fairly certain that much of the cause of seasonality comes from the gradient in atmospheric temperatures over an extended period of time caused by axial tilt. A planet with little to no axial tilt, regardless of its eccentricity (basically how elliptical is its ellipse), isn't going to get much of a gradient between polar temperatures.

Another way to look at it is in terms of how much energy is the atmosphere absorbing. The Sun (and stars like it) release energy pretty much evenly, and that energy disperses quite evenly, to you can go to any point at a given distance from the Sun and get basically the same amount of energy as you would at any other point of equal distance from the Sun, as long as nothing is between you and the Sun. Also, the amount of energy the Sun emits means that the drop-off with distance even on the scale of the Earth isn't that significant. Satellites that orbit three times the Earth's diameter above its surface don't see much difference in the power generated by their solar panels, unless they pass through Earth's shadow. All of that to say, distance isn't the real driver of seasonality, it's the fact that the hemisphere facing the sun is absorbing more of the energy and blocking the hemisphere facing away from the Sun from getting as much energy.

Anyway, I now return you to your regularly scheduled Avatar discussion.

lowkey driving myself insane thinking too much about the lack of hemispheres in the original show and how the entire world is on the northern hemisphere season cycle except sometimes characters refer to the correct season of the southern hemisphere but then its not visually I just need to stop caring and CHANGE THE SEASON IN KYOSHI WARRIOR EPISODE

[hellsslibrary]

hear me out , yoichi with m!reader on the same team but the dear reader didn’t pass to him and now isagi is mad (BOTTOM ISAGI NATION)

ily

I hate you, I despise you, you are absolutely hateful to me, you are a pathetic excuse for a man... What difference does it make if I cook you cream buns in an apron that says "best wife in the world"? (real dialogues with my husband, like quotes day I go crazy)

MASTERLIST is here.

#a.n. : I love you too, anon. If only you all knew how I squeal like a little schoolgirl in love when I see requests for power bottom characters. Next request, if I finish it before another one, will be about a game that 1,5 people know, I hope you're ready for that LOL.

!!Warnings: subtop!male!reader, meandom!Isagi, he is not wild like on the field don't worry (or cry if you are a slut for that), riding, overstimulation, but Isagi is cute later, the reader sits between Isagi's thighs, jerking off, teasing.

"Why the hell did you give him a pass out of all people, huh? I was the best option there in terms of everything... Moreover, you hate him too!" Isagi says, biting your neck, watching with great pleasure as you lean your head back on his shoulder with a groan.

"I... I don't know," you're repeating the same thing as in the past, because fuck... Of course, you're an idiot, why did you even give a pass not to Isagi, but also to Kaiser of all people?

"Wrong answer."

You bite your lip, hearing this answer, feeling his hand moving on your cock again, repeating it for the third time. The sensations are simply tearing, you can't even figure out what the game looked like, even though it ended only twenty minutes ago, and you're already such a mess from just a couple of orgasms.

"Well?" Isagi asks, kissing your shoulder while his thumb lazily strokes your head, specifically touching your urethra, causing your hips to jerk up But he doesn't give you the right movement, even though he plans to drive you into a frenzy.

What do you have to say? 'Sorry'? Utter nonsense. It's just a game, he's overreacting. Although we're talking about Isagi, of course, he's always taken it too seriously. Too much.

He doesn't rush you with an answer, allowing you to think about everything with your last working convolutions, while his blue eyes are practically fed up with the sight of your current penis and how the predicate flows onto his fingers.

Your body relaxes when you exhale heavily, shifting most of your weight onto his chest, actually lying on top of him and just looking at the floor below you.

"I'm sorry," you say without thinking, even though you couldn't have thought of anything better.

You are absolutely sure that he will take it out on you at the next training session, even too much. Especially if that idiot German thinks to tease Yoichi about giving him a pass...

"I'm not offended," the brunette whispers, speeding up the movements of his hand again, pulling a satisfied moan from your lips, rolling one of your nipples lazily with his other hand. "Give the pass to anyone, but not to him... And not that shitty chihuahua, huh?"

"Yes, Yo," you nod, although you have absolutely no idea what you are agreeing to, because your brain is focused only on the feeling of his hand on your penis and the warmth of his body against yours.

"Will you come for me again?"

You don't have to say it twice, right? Of course, after that, anyone will be a good boy! So your cock twitches, and you feel the knot in your stomach unraveling as Isagi's hand is covered in white liquid...

"Nice. Get off me, I'm not done with you," he says, making you immediately straighten up and turn to look at him, to which he just shrugs his shoulders. “What? You still haven't fucked me, no?"

[drownedthemall]

sweetness of her laugher

part 4 - fate

caracalla x noble!reader x geta

a/n - sorry for taking so long, hopefully, you enjoy this chapter <3

4k words

summary - the gladiator games have begun and the emperors are eager for you to indulge in the cruelty

also, general acacius has plans for you...

You tried to sleep off the things that you had witnessed today. But to no avail, slumber does not visit you. You hope to attempt to remedy this by revisiting the gardens. You rise from your bed, tiptoeing to the door of your room. You peer outside. The guard subtly turns his head towards you. You request, "I'd like to go to the gardens.", you whisper softly.

He shakes his head, "Princess, It is not recommended for anyone to be out at this time, I cannot let you.", he denies your request with haste.

"Please, sir", you jokingly pout, attempting to convince him. "You can watch over me if you're that worried," you argue with the visibly annoyed guard.

He sighs defeated, "Fine, my lady..", he shakes his head in disapproval. You lightly smile at how easily he gave up. He leads you to the gardens, standing guard by one of the columns as he watches over you. You peer over your shoulder to see if he's following you. He is not.

You head over towards the fishpond that is surrounded by an abundant amount of rose bushes. You do this as you ponder the route you want to take this night. You stand over the pond, trying to make out any of the fish that could be in the body of water. Which proved difficult when only the moonlight was illuminating the pond. You then see a shadow from up above move quickly. "An owl?", you try to rationalise to yourself.

Suddenly everything was really quiet. Maybe it only seems that way. Nevertheless, you check for where the praetorian was stood at. Your heart stops as you notice that he's gone. This leaves you frantically looking over any column you could see from where you're stood at, thinking that maybe you've just misremembered. But no, he's gone. That's when you immediately come to terms with that you should probably head back to your chambers.

There was a reason for the guard discouraging you from coming here. It's not a secret that a large population of Romans are not pleased with the Emperors. It's only a matter of time before people gather and revolt. Likely, someone from the inside may even plan an uprising of some sort. It's not like it's unheard of. You however do not want to be caught amid something like that. Yes, you may have grown to like the two but the fact they hold the titles of Emperors can intrigue any woman, right? The fact you've been around them puts you in danger, despite how much you'd like to not think about that. However, the truth prevails. You shouldn't have come here. Not just the gardens, but Rome itself.

As you turn round you're greeted by a tall figure. You feel as though your soul has transcended through five different lifetimes. You gasp and take a few steps back. The calves of your legs hit the cold stone edge of the pond, making you off-balanced. A pair of hands come to your rescue. They grasp your forearms, stopping you from making a bigger fool of yourself. You are about to fight back but you notice the familiar robes of the man before you. This seems to reunite you and your soul as you come to realise it was Geta. He pulls you into his chest. He holds you tight as if the water is about to steal what is rightfully his.

You sigh relieved, "Emperor..", you lean your head against his chest. His face entangles into your hair, "I didn't mean to scare you.." he mutters softly. You can feel how the warmth of his breath nestles into your bed of hair. As you calm, the embarrassment sets in and so does the realisation of the position you're in.

Eventually, you build up the courage to push yourself away from his hold. You could instantly imagine the scowl that painted his face. He moves his hands to your waist, still keeping you secure in place. He breaks the silence, "Why are you out this late", his tone was oddly accusatory as if he had just foiled some kind of treacherous plan of yours.

You try your damn hardest to avoid his accusing glare, already having to endure the effects of his touch and the closeness between the two of you. "I couldn't sleep, Emperor, I was just seeking some fresh air..", you try explaining yourself.

"Does your balcony not provide you with that?" he continues with his rather harsh tone.

"I..", you begin, "I'm sorry, Emperor", you apologise defeated. You knew it was a bad idea to argue with him. Aware that one misstep could very well acquaint you with the scythe.

Your tone of voice seemed to have soothed him, but you could still sense his distrust. He brings up one of his hands from your waist to your face. He cups the side of your cheek. Alluding that he wants you to look at him. So you do. He caresses your cheek, he likes the fact that you are weary of him. That you were unsure of his intentions, he revelled in that. However, now, he wanted you to wholeheartedly give yourself to him. He didn't want you to fear him while in such an intimate moment. His hand travels down to your bare neck, which wasn't adorned by any necklaces. This brings your attention to the fact that he is not accessorised either. Though he is still in his formal robes from earlier today, he must've been in the process of going to bed. He was the owl in question.

His knuckles brush up and down your neck. "..Don't be afraid", he softly begins, "I won't hurt you.", he attempts to reassure you. Whether his words are truthful or not, they work. His other hand comes up to tuck a loose strand of hair away from your face. You see the way he's concentrated on every subtle movement your face makes. You didn't realise you were holding your breath. You breathe out, "Would you like to join me in my stroll?", you ask, knowing this is the only way you could accomplish what you had set out for yourself earlier.

He stops all of his caresses and thinks about what you suggested. After what feels like an eternity he nods in agreement. He takes hold of your hand and beckons you to follow him. He has already decided the route for you two to take.

You two walk along the gravelled pathway, with distantly placed oil lamps emitting the way. The pace of you two is leisurely, which would be perfect for admiring the greenery surrounding you both. However, the drowning darkness of the night only points your attention to the man who is holding your hand. How his toga has left his shoulder bare and exposed for the sight of only you and the Gods to see. How he keeps glancing back at you as if you're going to disappear if he takes his eyes off of you.

You pull away the blanket of silence that has draped over the both of you, "Why was I even invited for this whole...", you flail your free hand, not knowing how to describe this whole arrangement.

Geta just stares at you for a moment before answering, "Caracalla likes you, that's why.", he states almost dismissively.

This frustrates you further, "But how does he know of me?", you huff, seeming to have now found the courage to voice your mind.

He just shrugs his shoulders. "I had not known of you previously... He was just very adamant on it being you", he explains in his bored, unamused tone.

You were expecting to get some proper answers out of him. You deserve to know why after being dragged all the way out here. Where you know not a single soul that resides in Rome. How even when you try to find a moment of peace it only gets ripped away from you, as if you don't deserve it. Your spiralling thoughts end with, "Now, can we not mention his name?", he looks you in the eyes as you two near the pond again. You just hum in response, even though he was the one to bring him up in the first place.

---

This morning you're awoken by the sun's rays. They cast a warm glow over your face. Which is a nice change compared to how you were awoken the night before. As your mind leaves the ever-so-comforting dreamscape, you're reminded of the games happening today. This only brings forth dread to your shortly lived sweet morning. At least you'll see Acacius...

You reluctantly peel away the warm covers, immediately longing to just curl back into them. Bam. You jump at the noise. Why can't you ever find peace? You turn your attention to the location of the noise, only to be met with an unexpected embrace. Your door had been barged open by none other than Caracalla. Your head once again meets the feathered silk pillows. His legs straddle the sides of your body as his face is mere inches from yours. He drinks up your worried expression and admires every freckle and blemish that lies upon your skin. "You're already awake", he says in a hushed voice.

"Yes... I am", you whisper as you try to wrangle yourself from him. He only giggles at the attempt, grabbing a hold of both your wrists.

He leans in to whisper in your ear, "Are you excited?", his earring settles on your lips. You feel your insides twist at the implication.

"For the gladiator games?", you hoarsely ask, your voice not yet prepared for the day.

He slightly moves back, bringing your hands closer, manipulating them to cup his face. "Yes, for the games," he answers as he leans into your touch. You decide to answer honestly, shaking your head in response.  You felt that you could be more truthful with Caracalla. Even if you disagreed or didn't fully align on things, you sense that he would still cling to you. You didn't share the same sentiment with his brother, however.

He furrows his brows, "Hm? Why not..?", he asks queried, almost offended.

"I don't know how to feel about the violence", you answer, shying away from his burning stare.

He chuckles, "Well, I suggest you feel excited, invigorated..." he begins, "..and aroused", he ends the sentence in a breathy tone.

You can't help but look displeased at his words, you knew the Emperors were sadistic. But you can't even pretend to not be phased by his gross verbiage about people dying for entertainment. However, Caracalla misreads your expression. He turns his head, his lips making contact with your palms. He kisses them. "Don't worry," he comforts. He leaves another kiss. "It'll be fun, I promise", he mumbles against the palm of your hand. You notice the way his breath left your palms wet, his kisses only doing the same.

"I shouldn't be here", he admits quietly. He continues, "Geta would not be pleased", he giggles like a misbehaving child, putting emphasis and pause on the word 'not'.

"He would not?", you ask rather worriedly, afraid that if Geta were to find out he'd somehow put all the blame on you.

He smiles amused as if reading your mind "Only at me, don't worry", he kisses your bare inner wrist, "I won't let anyone hurt you", he says in an unusually lucid tone.

You hate to admit but your heart is quite literally doing cartwheels. These two must be affecting your mind somehow because all of a sudden you're feeling beyond impulsive. You take advantage of the fact that his head is in your hands and you pull him towards you. His mouth is subtly open and his eyes are glazed over in desire. His lucidity disappeared in mere seconds. He stabilises himself by pressing his hands into the bedding. Your lips meet his, and your attempt at keeping this short and sweet changes as he deepens the kiss. He nips at your bottom lip, allowing his tongue to dance along with yours. Your hand find itself in his hair, and you tug and pull on his red locks as the two of you 'fight'. He pulls away to catch his breath, saliva coating both of yours and his lips. He admires you in a daze, bringing one of his hands to caress your lips. Sliding his thumb over your bottom lip. A boundary has now fallen and the pit in your stomach tells you that you will come to regret it

Thud. Caracalla doesn't even bother to look over at who has entered the room, only devoting his attention to you. You, however, do and see a familiar redhead. You want to crawl into a ditch and die. The Emperor above you seems to feel zero shame, this mustn't be a very rare predicament for him to be in. You wonder how often he's been caught in the act.

"Brother," Geta states sternly, looking over the two of you as if he's a bull that's seen red.

The older redhead only continues absentmindedly playing with your hair, disregarding his brother's presence, "What do you want.", he says boredly.

"What did I tell you about doing this?", he sighs frustrated at his older brother's actions as if this has been discussed extensively without your knowledge.

He rolls his eyes, "Oh, please, it's not like she's complaining," he finally looks at his brother and then immediately returns to you, "You like this, right?", pressuring you to answer.

You feel humiliated. Your already flushed pink face only turns into a more noticeable shade. You open your mouth to answer but Geta interrupts, "Don't play into his stupid games," he dictates.

Now this ticks him off, "Hah, fuck off," he throws a murderous look towards Geta, "You always ruin everything." He roughly kisses you one last time before leaving you to process everything.

The way they treat you makes you wish you could peel your own skin off. The way they play with you like you were some kind of doll. Sure, you are growing to like them... but is that due to your isolation and inability to compare actual normal interactions to theirs? Or are you truly becoming just as sick as them? Infested with the disease that undoubtedly plagues both of their minds. These are the thoughts that keep nagging you throughout your stay here.

---

You feel how the ground you stand on is vibrating from the amount of people gathered in the arena. The never-ending buzz of people talking and shouting over each other. The concoction of smells enveloping your nose, from the smell of iron and faeces to the smell of the Emperor's perfumes and oils. The unbearable heat only made the stench much more potent. All of this enthrals you with a painful headache. The heavy jewellery you wore that the Emperors themselves insisted on you to wear did not help either.

The three of you are the first to enter the viewing booth. It consists of three gold-inscribed stone thrones positioned right at the front, and the rest of the seats are placed further back for the other noble guests. The Emperors seemed to have lost their more put-together composure that you have grown to like. They were now buzzing with excitement, absolutely restless. Pacing from one side of the viewing box to the next, wanting for the other guests to arrive as soon as possible. In the meantime, you attempted to not think of what was about to happen, which only did the opposite. You were just as restless as them but for a completely different reason. You wanted to get the hell out of here. Feeling like a bird in a cage at this very moment.

Caracalla is sitting on his seat, he looks over the arena, occasionally sending a look your way. The first person to arrive is the man with the winning gladiator, Macrinus. He steps foot into the booth, greeting the caesars instantly. "My pleasure to be here Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla." He says this as he takes Geta's hand. The younger brothers' excitement is palpable, "I'm interested in seeing your poet, Macrinus," Geta humours.

"Haha, yes, so am I," he laughs alongside him. He then looks over to you and takes hold of your hand as well, giving it a soft peck, "It's wonderful seeing you here, Princess", he greets. Geta leaves the two of you, however he still listens in from the sidelines.

You smile politely, "I wish strength to your fighter", you say as you pull your hand back to your side. Fidgeting with the rings that do not belong to you.

"Thank you, my lady, hopefully, the Gods pay mind to your wish", he chuckles, glancing up at the 'preoccupied' Emperors as they watch the interaction.

Acacius and Lucilla then enter the booth. Caracalla remains in his chair, while Geta heads over to meet the two. You perk up at the sight of the General, relieved to see a familiar face. "Emperor Geta," he lightly smiles at the caesar.

"General Acacius, hope you spent your free time well", he laughs, looking over at Lucilla. She held a small piece of lavender to her face, presumably to calm herself and to reduce the smells of the arena.

"Thank you, Emperor, we did," she responds disingenuously. He hums, moving his attention fully to Lucilla herself. This leaves an opening for you to converse with the broad-shouldered man.

"Princess," he declares as he gives you a subtle grin. "Hope you're enjoying your time in Rome," he starts.

"General," you nod. "Yes I am, thank you," you chuckle, for once happy to talk to a sane person.

"Are you excited?", you ask, wanting to gauge his opinion of the games about to take place. This question seems to pique the interest of the Emperor sitting. He was already listening in on both the conversations but he was now only focused on yours. He peers over the seat, leaning on the armrest. This is only noticed by the General.

"Ah, who wouldn't be?", he answers, with his arms locked behind him. This frustrates you, he was no longer being candid with you the way he was in your travels. Understandable in the presence of the caesars but nevertheless annoying.

"He's right," Caracalla states, causing you to look at where he's sat. By this point, your Caesar and Lucilla are done talking. He comes up behind you, hand on your waist, mouth to your ear. "It's time," he hushly says. You subtly gasp at the unexpected contact. He smirks, while the other brother just giggles at the sight. He leads you to your seat, you look over your shoulder at the three, disappointed that you couldn't talk with Lucilla. The only woman here other than you.

As you sit down, Emperor Geta announces the games that are about to take place. He beckons the General to come up and speak of his victory in Numidia since the games are in celebration of it all. He reluctantly moves to the front of the viewing booth, to be seen by those in the colosseum. The brothers snicker, knowing full well that the General had not prepared something beforehand.

You fiddle with the gold cuffs your wrists are decorated with, feeling that they're too tightly clamped. You turn your view to Caracalla, and you see that he already has his eyes on you. Yours slightly widen as this catches you off guard. This amuses him and he grins, his gold tooth visible in his smile. He leans to you and grabs a hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "You're so antsy, relax already," he teases. You sigh softly, trying to calm yourself. He moves back in his chair, satisfied with the touch of your hand.

As the General moves to sit by his wife, Lucilla, he gives her a curious look. He seems to have taken notice of how the caesars act around you. It's been a short amount of time since you've arrived but the way the Emperors treat you has already been noticed by many. Acacius and Lucilla would like to take advantage of this.

It all begins with the armoured rhino leaving the caged layer of the colosseum with a champion gladiator standing upon it. As every new thing develops in the arena you feel the way his hand squeezes yours, his excitement uncontainable. While you just try to shield the view with your other hand, nausea creeps its way up as more and more blood can be seen on the arena walls and ground. A fighter gets impaled by the ravenous beast, and this leaves the caesars glancing back at each other, laughing at the sight. Geta sees you grimacing and ignoring the display of gore.

"Watch!" he encourages in a commanding tone, wanting you to also take pleasure in the cruelty. You force yourself to pay attention to what's happening before you. Well, you try but you feel as though your mind is drifting off elsewhere. Anywhere but here. However, you do when you notice the familiar gladiator from the day before. He was all sweaty, dirty and bloodied. He seems to have taken on the leadership role of the group. This role doesn't last long as soon enough it's only him and the champion. He grabs a handful of the sand and strategically throws it, right as the rhino charges forward. Now, ashamedly you were entertained. Especially now that it was leaning in his favour. The beast bashes full force into the wall of the Colosseum. With the impact vibrating all the way to where you're sat. This causes the caesars to leap to the edge of the booth, and you follow suit as the clingy Emperor drags you along. You and the two were enthralled at the way this was playing out. Caracalla lets go of your hand and instead pulls you in by the waist.

"It's that poet, is it not?" Geta shouts over the roaring crowd to his brother.

Caracalla narrows his eyes, trying to piece the man's face to any that he might've seen before. "I can't remember," he admits, shouting back in response.

"It is," you add to the discussion. Caracalla angles his face inches from yours, "How come you know?", he interrogates. "You like him?", he jabs without missing a beat from his previous question.

"What?", you reply genuinely confused at the random spiel of questions.

"Look, look!" Geta cuts the tense moment short by pointing to the gladiator bringing a finality to the fight. He stabs the champion through his chest. Geta dramatically raises his arm in the air, deciding the fate of the man who is on his knees. This was another nauseating sight, that they were the ones to deem the fate and worth of the lives they were playing with. With their existence, you lose faith in the God's. They are the epitome of chaos, mortals that have been fed lies to shape them into something they are not.

Geta symbolises the demise of the once-known champion, pointing his thumb down, the Gods have decided. People cheer at the decision, jumping from their seats to see the final act at play. The gladiator decapitates the man, his body slumping to the ground even further. You don't even have the energy to shield your eyes. You realise that you have no real control over your fate as long as you're in the hands of the Emperors.

taglist - @duckyhowls @himiko @lover-rep-fanfic @t6gse370 @syraxnyra <3

[bluespinksyellows]

Derek: *very drugged up with a giant grin on his face* Hi

Stiles: *giggles* hi

Derek: *with an even bigger and sappier smile* hi

Stiles: *trying not to laugh while also looking so hopelessly in love* hi

Derek: You're pretty... You're so pretty. Your eyes are pretty, your nose is pretty, your mouth is pretty, everything about you is so pretty. I love everything about you. Your whiskey-colored eyes are so beautiful that I still get lost in them no matter how many times I see them. Your upturned nose is so cute that every time you scrunch your nose in concentration I can feel my own heartbeat accelerate. Your mouth is the most perfect little cupids bow it's hard not to stare at it every time you talk. You are just so pretty you're like an angel. A sassy sarcastic angel but an angel. My angel. It's fitting. That you're my angel. You saved me. In every way possible you saved me. Before you, it was hard to be awake. Hard not just to stay alive but to want to stay alive. Hard to live. Hard to just.... breathe. But then you happened. You stumbled straight into my life and made it so much better. Not immediately. No. Not at all. But gradually. Slowly. So slowly, I didn't realize it was happening. But you taught me hope. And trust. And you taught me love. Not just how to give it but to receive it. You taught me how to live. Not just to survive but to live a life I would enjoy. When we met I thought you would be the death of me. Ironic to think you're the reason I'm alive. You've saved my life literally many times but you saved it again and again without even knowing. Like an angel. I don't know what I would do without you now and I don't want to. You are my home. And my hope. You are my happiness. And my heart. And I love you for that. I love you with everything I am. With my body and my soul and my mind. I love you.

Stiles: *on the verge of tears* And I love you

Derek: I know. I know you love me. I've never doubted it. You've never let me doubt it. Because it's in everything you do. When you hug me after a long day. When you pepper my face with kisses when you know I'm in a bad mood. When you brash my shoulder after you pass by me in the kitchen when we're cooking. When you run your fingers through my hair while we listen to music on the couch. When you hold my hand whenever we go somewhere, and there are too many people... When you get defensive of me anytime I'm made uncomfortable by anyone. When you scold the pack for pushing me too far. When you scold me for doing or thinking something stupid. When you encourage me to try. When you praise me for doing something good. When you understand when I make mistakes. When you push me to be better but still love me when I can't. I've never doubted your love. It's one of the only guarantees I know. Because you love me. I gave you my whole heart and it's never once been hurt by you. Only healed.

Stiles: *actually crying*

Derek: *still with a goofy smile* I'm gonna marry you one day. I will.

Stiles: *can barely talk* Lucky me

Derek: *fervently shaking his head* Nope. Trust me I'm the lucky one.

[undeadslayerr]

I think I get what you mean. I guess since I don't really experience transphobia in the way that people would attack me on the street for looking gnc or trans, I'd rather assume transphobia is less pervasive. This example you gave makes me really understand the whole point better.

those who stay silent are complicit in transphobia, even if they gender us correctly and are generally polite to us.

I guess since most people just don't have much of an opinion about trans issues at all, I'd assume they aren't transphobic. You're right that it may be the opposite.

Society itself is definitely transphobic, and is for sure constructed in a misogynistic and transphobic way. And because of it, I agree that a lot of people are definitely made to be transphobic. But I'm of the opinion that if detached from that influence, most people wouldn't really mind anyone trans. I guess that doesn't make them not transphobic per se.

I'm gonna go on a more personal tangent now to explain my perspective a bit more. You don't have to read it if you dgaf lol, it really doesn't matter much.

For example, I had a doctor appointment very recently. I outed myself as trans to the doctor. Basically the situation was:

I was there under my deadname to make everything medical easier. During the medical exam she noticed excessive body hair and asked if I'm under a doctor's care regarding any hormone imbalances, since it looks like I could have excessive testosterone. I sheepishly explained that it's intended, because I'm trans and taking testosterone.

She wasn't grossed out or rude or anything. She asked for my chosen name and referred to me by it. She switched my pronouns when she was speaking halfway through the visit. She congratulated me, said I look masculine and HRT is clearly working, and said she's happy people today can be who they wanna be.

At first she had trouble referring to me by the correct pronouns, but she corrected herself very quickly. I bet she must have some transphobic worldviews. Maybe she was, at some point, transphobic to someone else. But I don't think any of that is malicious. I think she doesn't want to be transphobic. Maybe even as much as me, who's actually a part of the trans community. I think she's uneducated and clueless about the stuff that just doesn't affect her as much.

And I think, because of that, I'd rather just not assume transphobia. I think I'll still approach people with the mindset of "not transphobic until proven otherwise", just for my own peace of mind I guess. I feel like people who are not transphobic can be educated, while transphobes don't even hear you out.

I think you're right though, in the way that transphobia is much more varied and prevalent than just physical violence in the streets. And a lot of people, including myself, can still hold transphobic worldviews they were taught, and just overall be transphobic, even if unintended. I think the problem I have with this, is how unclear it really all is in practice. Sexism, racism, transphobia and homophobia often intersect, not mentioning the fact that some people are just bigots for sport. At what point does being uneducated stop and being malicious start?

Overall it's a complex issue and I appreciate the explanation!! I know, despite the fact that I'm trans, I don't really know everything about trans issues, so I see a lot of value in dialogues like this. :))

why do people assume celebrities are not transphobic by default? we live in a deeply transphobic world. many of the "basic facts about the world" we are taught as children are fully transphobic lies. i don't get why, when people like a celebrity, they write a little fictional biography in their head about how they're probably not transphobic (despite the fact that, mathematically, most people totally transphobic, especially people of class celebrities belong to). like why? why just assume that people in this deeply transphobic world are progressive trans allies by default without any kind of evidence?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Quiet Ones 10

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: in the land of delulu.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You excuse yourself for a hot bath. You didn't have the luxury in your apartment. You may as well enjoy what you can as the seconds tick down until your eternal purgatory. 

You breathe in the steam and let it soothe you. As much as it can. You don't think you've truly relaxed since the smoke filled your apartment. Oh, yeah, that's right, this man pulled out army tactics just to get you here. Just when you convince yourself he's not that loony, you remember another twisted facet of this whole ordeal. 

No matter how many times you retrace your steps, how many memories you unravel and search, you can't figure out where he came from, or how you managed to catch his attention. You are unremarkable but he talks like you're some sort of goddess. Not too mention, he seems to believe he knows you somehow. That you are soulmates in some ridiculously serendipitous way. There's nothing meant to be about this. You never meant to be with anyone. 

The water turns lukewarm and you stir. You might as well get out. You're not going to get much out of it aside from the pruned skin. You dry off and wrap yourself in one of the fluffy robes hung in wait. You stop to stare at yourself in the mirror. 

What else can you do to change his mind? You ate like an animal, you vomited like an overfed cat, and you've done everything to make yourself unapproachable to the general public, not just him. It's like this is a game to him but you're not having fun. 

You come out into the hotel room. The smell of lavender and aloe gives you pause. The lights are dimmed. Oh jeez. You cross your arms as the soft Hawaiian sunset glows through the large glass doors. Flickering candlelight pulses all around you and rose petals decorate the floor and bed. 

"Please, I just want to sleep--" 

"Jellybean, good boy Lloyd is gonna help you do just that," he purrs as he appears. "I'm gonna give you a nice massage. I know you don't like strangers touching you and all that so I'm going to do it all on my own--" 

"What? No. No. I'm going to sleep..." you trail off as you see what he's wearing. Next to nothing. Just a tight red thong that barely contains his very obvious excitement. 

"Take off your robe, bean, and let the magic hands do their work," he reaches for you and you dodge him. 

"Lloyd, it's... we're not even married. Shouldn't you wait until tomorrow night-" 

"Tomorrow? The wedding night? Beanie boo, I don't think you realise everything I'm saving for that. The way I'm gonna pamper you," he spreads his hands flat in the air and nuzzles the air lewdly then flicks his tongue slowly up and down. 

"God," you whisper and clutch tight the front of your robe. "I said... you said we'd wait--" 

"It's all above board. I can have a feel of the goods but I'm not gonna untie the ribbon. Promise," he puts his hand to his chest. "Hey, if it makes you feel better, I can take these off-" 

He hooks his thumbs in the sides of the thong and you shake your head furiously, "no, no, don't-- don't do that." 

"I'm not shy, baby." He winks. 

"Lloyd, please. I'm tired. I... I've never flown before--" 

"Will you keep saying my name, bean? You make it sound so nice." 

You blink and hold back your revolt. You keep telling yourself you just need to get through this one thing but why? You're not getting out of this. He's taken you out of your apartment, out of the city, out of state. You're pretty sure there's nowhere left to run and he's shown you what happens if you try to hide. 

"Come on, I'll be gentle. I just want you to feel good. Get nice and loose for the wedding," he steps closer and grabs the belt of your robe. "My little jelly bean--" He pauses and blinks down at you. "Am I talking to much again? Let my hands do the talking, huh?" 

He winks and licks his lips. You want to melt and not in a good way. He tugs loose your belt and you barely keep the robe from falling open completely. He purrs and grabs your hands. You wrestle with him, defeated as he wrenches apart the fabric. 

"Damn, bean, I mean... it just gets sweeter every time I see it," he wiggles excitedly. 

You put your hands on his but he’s much too strong to deter. His eyes flick up from your body and he grins. He licks his lips. 

“I already know you’re just as delicious as you look,” he snarls. “Come on, bean.” He walks you backwards until you’re by the bed. “You get yourself nice and naked and spread eagle.” 

He pushes you, just hard enough that you fall onto the mattress. Your chest jiggles as you land and he purrs again. You plant the heels of your hands on the bed and drag yourself up. He goes to the night stand and grabs the shiny bottle of massage oil. 

You don’t have much of a choice but the easiest one is to go along with this. He says it’s just a massage. You know better than to trust the man who stalked you, who terrified you, then stole you away, but you don’t have much defense against him. Nothing but your submission. 

You slip free of the robe then turn onto your stomach. He tugs away the cotton and lets it heap on the floor. He climbs up on the bed, jostling you as he crosses the mattress on his knees. He oils up his palms and you quickly turn you face down into the pillows. 

He straddles your ass and you tense. He grabs your shoulders and rolls the muscles between his thumb and fingers. He tuts, “baby, you need to chill out. Let your good boy help you out.” 

He pushes his thumbs into your flesh and angles his hands to drag his knuckles down your back. The ridges of his hands drag along either side of your spine and he traces with his thumbs pressed firmly into the muscle. You can’t resist the moan that rises between your lips and catches in the pillow case. 

He pushes back up and once more kneads your shoulders. You quiver and squeeze your eyes shut. It’s overwhelming to be touched. At all. More unnerving that you don’t hate it. 

You avoid people, just as much, you avoid any contact. You like your space, your quiet, and this man has violated both. He runs his touch down your sides and the warmth of him seeps into you. He takes your left arm and begins tedious and tender work of the entire length. Your fingers curl and your hand twitches. 

You groan and he wiggles against you. His crotch is pressed into you without shame. You hardly notice as you fight the rising tide of delight flowing through you. No, why does it feel good? 

He gets to your other arm as the tension slowly uncoils. You never realised how much there was and he’s finding every nook and cranny. He works his way over your back once more. You quiver and moan long and loud. 

“That’s it, jelly bean,” he growls and once more grinds against your ass. “Like putty in my hands. 

He moves down your legs and pushes a knee between them. He parts your thighs and knees on the bed. He brushes his thumbs along the curve of your ass and hums. He bends and you clench your cheeks. He clucks, “now, now, be a good girl. I said I’d behave, bean.” 

He rubs your ass in his large hands. He leans in and kisses each cheek. You squirm but he doesn’t let up. He flutters his fingers along the insides of your thighs. You shiver and he puts more pressure into it. He teases and tends to you. 

You bring your arm up to grip the billow and arch your back. He flicks his finger along your cunt and you pop your head up. He snickers. 

“I said relax. I can’t have my wife tied in knots... I’m supposed to tie her in knots,” he taunts. 

He brings himself to straddle you again. He shifts over you and pushes your thighs closed with his. He grips your hips and massages them tightly. He pulls a hand back as he moves behind you. 

He rests his dick between your cheeks as he pins you down by your waist. You spasm but can’t push yourself up. He has you trapped as he slowly thrusts up and down, gliding along your flesh. 

“Lloyd, you said--” 

“Don’t worry. I won’t go inside,” he grits as he keeps his careful tempo. “Mmm, baby, how can you expect me to resist this ass. Urgh, it’s so nice.” 

He brings his hand down to push your cheeks together as he fucks between them. Mortified, you squeak and hide your face. You reach back with one hand and push on his forearm. There’s no stopping him and this is just a preview of the next night. 

Your hand falls away at the thought. You can’t stop him. You won’t. No matter how you fight. You tried that and he won. The moment he got you out of your apartment, it was over. 

The bed rocks with him. He builds his speed, little by little. His deep voice fills the hotel room as he kneads your ass. He pumps between them and snarls. He squeezes until your eyes water. 

You twist your neck and swat at him, “Lloyd, you’re hurting---” 

He lets go of once side of your rear and shoves your head down. He ruts wildly as he crushes your skull into the pillow and bounces you on the mattress. A sudden warmth spills into the small of your back and spurts further up your spine. He hisses and quakes, losing his rhythm as he leans his weight onto you. 

You grasp his wrist and whine, “ow, Lloyd--” 

He retracts from you and flips to fall beside you. You keep your face down, your eyes stinging with tears. You’re scared. You can’t remember the last time you weren’t, but that’s all the proof you need. Lloyd can say all these sweet things, make all his promises, but you know in the end, you can’t control him. He can barely control himself. 

“Jellybean,” he tickles your hip as his cum cools on your skin. “You’re so amazing--” 

You shimmy away from him without looking back. You can’t lay there any longer. You nearly fall off the bed. You stagger away from the bed. You need to get away from him and more, you need to get that stuff off of you. 

You burst into the bathroom and crank on the sink. You grab a washcloth and wet it. You wipe away the stickiness along your hips but you can’t reach higher.  

Lloyd’s shadow appears in the door frame. You ignore him as you rinse the cloth and try again. He comes to you and takes a clean one. “Let me help--” 

“No, I’m fine,” you snip. 

“Jellybean, I know it’s been a long day--” 

“You know? You don’t know,” you sneer and tear away from him. 

“Baby--” 

“I bathed and you—you--” 

“I made a mess,” he giggles. 

You face him and shake your head. What is wrong with him? This isn’t funny. 

“I couldn’t help myself,” he runs his hand down his naked torso. “It’s just what you do to me. I’m...” he stops and looks down as his dick twitches. “I’m getting hard again just think of it. Au naturel, baby. No enhancers needed.” He growls and drags the washcloth around his shaft. “Little blue pill got nothing on you.” 

He wipes himself then wads up the wet cloth and hurls it in the sink. “Alright, then. Longing makes the heart, and the balls, grow fonder, huh?” He offers his hand and smirks, “let’s go to bed.” 

You stare at him. Unmoving. He shows his palms. 

“Sleeping only. Well, maybe a few snuggles,” he says. “But I promise, I’ll abstain. Just for a little longer.”