#he's fucking up my camera the asshole

[iangallagherisadeadman]

ok i just downloaded some of the calling, castle rock, the red line, the riches and fear the walking dead. lets see some of noel fisher acting

#looking for godivas i really want to give it a try please if someone knows a link send it to me #CASTLE ROCK S1E1 really weak honestly they should at least finish it with S1E2 beginning #CASTLE ROCK S1E2 suuuuck! really bad quality tv show. hate the delivery of the lines all kind of rushed #CASTLE ROCK S1E3 bored out of my fucking mind! noel was just dreaming about law school man why would you be such an asshole #FEAR TWD S3E1 minor character. nothing really to comment on performance. noel said he likes grey area characters and that was not it #THE RED LINE S1E1 so fucking bad! it's so fucking bad I can't even stop laughing while watching it! can't take it seriously! #THE RED LINE S1E2 bad writing! bad direction! bad production! bad actors! bad editing! bad camera shots! bad sound production! #i have to say Noel is doing miracles in making that writing work cause he has nothing going on for him and he is still delivering! #i wasn't convinced but ended up he's actually a really good actor and it is actually really evident with such a badly written character #noel fisher #og.

[00-jammy-00]

Yan!Fuckboy HC’s

Yan!Fuckboy x GN! Stuco President! Reader

Content warning - Yandere themes, stalking, murder, obsession, masochist yandere (if you squint), nsfw mentions

——————————————————————————————————

Yan!Fuckboy who can’t help but stare at you as you walk down the hallways. God your ass, the sway of your hips, the glare you give him, the scoffs when he compliments you, all of it makes his cock throb in his pants.

Yan!Fuckboy who makes it his daily routine to follow you home after school, he can practically smell you! Look how cute you look when you get in the shower, he’s so happy he brought his camera.

Yan!Fuckboy who has sex with anyone who resembles you, the same perfume? He’s already shoved his dick in that hole. The same hair colour? He’s already had that mouth around him yet none of them satisfied him the same way you did that one night.

Yan!Fuckboy who needs another taste, having a one night stand at a Halloween party isn’t enough for him! Please let him have one more chance!

Yan!Fuckboy who realises that it’s not your fault you’re rejecting him, it’s that guy on the student council, isn’t it? He’s blackmailing you, isn’t he? He’ll make sure that asshole never smiles at you again.

Yan!Fuckboy who’s over the moon that you agreed to hook up whenever you’re feeling frustrated. It’s become his life mission to irritate you until you either fuck him dumb, or he fucks you silly.

Yan!Fuckboy who stole your spare key and made a copy so he can visit you whenever he wants. How’d he get your key? You gave it to him silly! You remember, don’t you?

Yan!Fuckboy who cums as soon as he’s fully in your hole, despite all his experience and his larger than average body count, you make him feel like a virgin again.

Yan!Fuckboy who puts a bullet through the eyes of any slutty girl or guy that tried to get in his pants, he’s reserved for you only, like how he doesn’t let any other people try to have their way with you, you’ll be together forever! It’s not like you have a choice anyway!

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Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, requests are open <3

please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission.

#tw yandere #yandere oc #yandere male #male yandere #yandere #soft yandere #yandere aesthetic #male yandere x y/n #male yandere x you #male yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x male reader #yandere x female reader #yandere x gn reader #x female reader #x male reader #x gn reader #x gn y/n #x female y/n #x male y/n #male reader #female reader #gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x willing reader #male yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons

[evansbby]

𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥✨🎀

Pairing: quarterback!Ari Levinson x naive!Reader

Summary: You have to do what daddy says, no matter how depraved it may be.

Warnings: smutt, dd/lg vibes, daddy kink, phone sex, riding of stuffed animals, dirty talk, Ari being depraved, Ari being a cocky asshole, innocence kink.

“But Ari, I’ve never sent nudes before.”

You bite your lip, moving your phone from one ear to the other. It was 2am, and you’re usually never awake this late. But you’d been working on a paper that was due tomorrow morning, and then Ari had called you.

Which was crazy. You didn’t even know Ari had your number. He was a senior and you were only a freshman and it was insane that he wanted to talk to you! You’d only ever met him once at a party last week, where he’d flirted with you sporadically throughout the night. You didn’t think much of it at the time, since he’d been flirting with a bunch of other girls too.

“Just lift your shirt up and send me a picture, sweetheart.” Ari insists, sounding smug on the other end of the line. “Maybe play with your tits a bit? Fuck, you have such nice tits.”

“Y-You think so?”

“Yeah, baby. I can’t stop staring at them whenever I see you in person.”

“Oh. Thanks!” You know you shouldn’t be happy with such a shallow compliment, but the fact that he’s interested in you is giving you butterflies. He was older than you, and he was the captain of the football team and the most popular guy on campus. You were, of course, none of those things.

“Well? Don’t keep me waiting.” There’s a slight edge to his tone.

You inhale deeply, opening your camera and lifting your top up. You’re not wearing a bra and your nipples are already hard from Ari’s smooth-talking and his gravelly voice. You snap a quick picture before sending it to him.

A pause.

“Fuck, you are so hot.”

“Thank you!” You glow at the praise. But then your eye catches the clock on your nightstand, “ooh, Ari, it’s getting late! I need to sleep now.”

“No.” Ari commands. “Let’s talk on FaceTime.”

“But I’m only in my PJs!” (They were babyish pyjamas too, nothing sexy at all.)

He ignores you, cutting the call and then calling you again through FaceTime. You accept it, gasping because he was shirtless on his bed. You’d never seen him shirtless before! His chest and torso were so muscular and hairy—but it made him look so manly that you couldn’t help but feel sparks run down your spine.

“Cute PJs.” He snorts.

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything sexier.”

“Don’t worry, baby. But maybe you should just take your top off completely, hm?”

“Oh, uh… I don’t know about that, Ari.”

“I’m not wearing a shirt, am I? So it’s only fair if you don’t wear one either.” He gives you a charming smile and you feel your insides turn to goo. Oh, you had the biggest crush on him! You can already feel every cell in your body itching to do exactly what he’s asked you to.

You shrug your top off, trying only to focus on Ari and how his eyes widen, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. He licks his lips and runs a hand through his unruly brown hair. His other hand is out of frame, and you can’t see what he’s doing with it.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn sexy, baby, showing off your hot, tight little body to me, huh?”

“I—I…uh… y-yeah, I guess—”

“Move up and down for me a bit, I wanna see your tits bounce. Mm, just like that, sweetie. Fuck, you love listening to me, don’t you?”

You watch in awe as he spits down into the palm of his hand, and now you can guess what his hand is doing and it makes your eyes widen but your core pulses with lust too.

“Look how hard your nipples are, baby. Touch ‘em for me. Play with them like a little slut, like how all the pornstars and slutty cam-girls do it. Like you’re being paid to do it, fuck! Goddamn, you’re so hot.”

He pans his camera downwards for a split second, and you gasp when you see his huge cock in his hand. He’s pumping it steadily, and it looks so big and fat and red and—

“B-But Ari, I’ve never watched porn before so I don’t know how a pornstar does it.” You blurt out.

A pause.

“Mm, you’re a real good girl aren’t you?” Ari chuckles breathlessly, running a hand through his hair again. He’s still pumping his dick, but more leisurely now, like a wolf who knows he has all night to play with his prey.

You shrug awkwardly, “I guess I am.”

“So tell me, how does a good girl like you like to be fucked?”

“Wh-What?!”

Ari snorts, “C’mon, sweetheart. You and I both know I’m gonna fuck you real soon. So I need to know how you like it. All sweet and slow? Because I can do that shit. Or are you a real freak in the sheets, and want me to shove your face against a pillow and take you hard and fast on your hands and knees?”

Your mouth drops open, and you suddenly feel so shy because how is he talking about such graphic things so easily???

“Mm, you like the sound of that second option huh?” Ari says, and now he sounds slightly breathless. His face is shiny with a layer of sheen, and his hair is falling over his face as he pumps his dick and his eyes look all over your topless form like he’s ravenous. “The innocent ones are always the freaky ones.”

“I’m not freaky!”

“So you don’t want me to fuck you doggy style with my hand round your throat like you’re wearing a goddamn collar, huh baby?” His voice sounds rough, gravelly, so infinitely turned on. And it’s crazy how quickly he switches back and forth from that to his casual, charming tone.

“Bet your little baby pussy is clenching right now, isn’t it baby? And I bet you’ve made a mess all over your bed because you’re so turned on.”

You glance down guiltily, hating how he’s right. There’s a huge wet stain on your sheets underneath you. You hadn’t realised just how wet you were because of all this. You bow your head and Ari smirks knowingly.

“Virgins get the wettest. And you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

Your eyes widen even more and you nod. Fuck, fuck, fuck, how did he know?!

“That’s what I thought.” Ari lets out a low groan, jacking off even faster. “Now listen, I want you to practice for when I fuck you.”

“Practice?”

“Yes, baby. I need to teach you so many things. But first tell me, do you have a stuffed animal in your room?”

Your face lights up, “Sure I do! This is Fluffy!” You grab your stuffed lamb and wave it in front of your camera.

“Give Fluffy a kiss.” Ari orders you darkly, his tone switching to more serious.

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Give your toy a kiss.” His normally blue eyes are now almost black, his pupils are so blown out with lust. And his order is kind of weird but you feel your pussy clench and leak some more, and you know you’re turned on by how authoritative he’s being.

You obey, pecking the stuffed lamb quickly. You feel embarrassed but you’re also feeling extremely submissive. And obeying him is turning you on so much.

“Not like that, baby. Make out with Fluffy properly. Like you would if it was me.” Ari says, and you look at him in shock only to see him smirking lazily back at you. His dick is throbbing against his hairy abs and he’s once again lazily stroking himself as he watches you intently. “Use your tongue.”

It’s by far the weirdest thing you’ve ever done. You scrunch your eyes shut and try to imagine your stuffie is Ari. And it’s not like you haven’t done it before — because you’ve practiced kissing on your stuffies in the past. But never in front of an audience, let alone a ravenous looking jock who’s jacking off while watching your every move intently.

“Mm, just like that. You like kissing Fluffy, huh?” He asks you darkly, and you can hear the steady thwapping sound of him pumping his dick.

“Uh. Not really, it’s kind of wei—”

“Use your tongue more,” he cuts you off, “get your little toy nice and wet, baby. Mm, just like that. Daddy loves it when you do it like that.”

You gape at him, “d-daddy?”

Ari smirks, “yeah. That’s what you’re gonna call me from now on. Got it?”

You gulp, “I didn’t know that was a thing.”

He licks his lips, “of course you didn’t know, you’re just a baby. But guys love it when girls call them daddy. It just means I’m in charge of you and that I’ll take care of you. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

You mull over his words. That did sound nice, and the idea of calling him daddy was kinda making you feel all hot and bothered down there…

“Try it.” Ari suggests, “Say that you’re just a little baby who needs her daddy to tell her what to do.”

You bite your lip, “uh—okay. I-I’m just a little baby and I need my… my daddy to tell me what to do.” You pause and beam, looking at him through your phone screen proudly, “how was that?”

He nods approvingly, “you’re a natural, baby. Now why don’t you put Fluffy between your legs so he can kiss your other lips?”

Your jaw drops, and yet you feel yourself clench at his words, “What??”

“Come on, sweetheart. Do it for daddy. I’m not here to give you your special kissies down there, which means Fluffy has to do it, right?”

“Special k-kissies?”

“That’s right. Little baby girls like you need their special kissies or else you’ll disappoint your daddy.”

You glance down at your pyjama shorts which are soaking wet. Despite you feeling awkward, you also felt immensely turned on by each word that came out of his mouth. How he was ordering you to do these depraved things… How he was talking to you all condescendingly like you were a baby… Oh, you didn’t want to disappoint him!

Slowly, you spread your legs and press Fluffy down against your clothed mound. You make sure to pan your phone downwards so Ari can see, and he groans appreciatively. His thumb strokes the head of his dick before he moves his hand up and down, now leisurely stroking himself as if he wants to savour these next few moments.

“That’s right, hump your sexy little baby pussy against your toy. Doesn’t that feel so sexy, baby?”

You nod, “feels good, Ari—I mean daddy. It feels good.”

“Damn right it does, daddy always knows what’s best for my little baby.” He runs his hand through his already dishevelled hair. His cheeks are flushed and he’s got a dark, determined look on his face as he continues to jack off, his eyes glued on you.

“Ride your little stuffie just like that,” he murmurs, “get that pretty baby pussy all wet and slippery and worked up, ready for my daddy dick. How’s that sound, princess? You ready for daddy’s dick?”

You bite your lip again, this time in pleasure as you continue to rub your pussy against the stuffie, “I think so. But you’re so big…”

That makes him smile, and he pans his camera down again to show you his fat, angry red cock. He’s got a huge vein running down it, and you get the sudden urge to lick it. God, he was so big! And thick too! You feel giddy and scared at the thought that he might actually be your first…

“H-How many girls have you slept with, daddy?” you ask shyly.

“Only a few,” he snorts, his tone vague before the glint in his eye returns. “I think I’ll only be able to fit my big dick halfway through your tiny snatch.” He says, “What do you think, baby?”

You nod, “I agree, you’re—uh— super big, daddy.”

“Mmhm, but you’d love it even more if I held you down and forced my fat cock inside your baby cunt till I’m all the way in, so deep you can feel me in your fucking womb, wouldn’t you?” he lets out a string of curse words as he pumps himself, “Tell me you’d like that.”

“I would!” You cry, feeling like you’re so, so close to cumming, “d-daddy, I—”

“Shhh, baby girl. Daddy knows,” Ari’s watching you like a hawk as your movements grow more and more desperate, your hips rutting against your poor stuffed lamb. “Put your phone up against your pillow or something, so I can watch you ride your toy properly.”

You do as he asks, no questions asked. And it’s times like this where you feel extremely lucky that you don’t have a roommate. And you hope Ari doesn’t either.

“Yeah, just like that. Get your toy all wet, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re so sexy,” Ari spits down on his palm before resuming to pump his cock, “bet you wish it was daddy underneath you like that, don’t you? Bet you wish I was eating your cunt just like that.”

You fist the sheets, trying not to look at your stuffie as you straddle it, humping it like a wanton whore.

“Yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” A few strands of his brown hair flip over his forehead, and he pushes them back impatiently, “Riding your daddy’s tongue, rubbing your baby cunt all over my face while you hold your little stuffed animal and cry like a baby ‘cause it’s too much for a little girl like you to handle.”

“Oh, I’d really like that!” you cry out, the pleasure within you mounting as you continue to breathlessly rub against your stuffie. You don’t even know what you’re saying anymore, but he’s painting such a vivid, hot picture with his words that you can’t help but agree. “W-Wanna ride you so bad, daddy. Would be so much – ah! – so much better than Fluffy!”

Ari smirks, “Damn right, it would. And tell me how you’d dress up for me, baby.”

“Would wear anything you want me to!”

“Yeah? What about a pretty pink princess dress? You’d wear that for daddy?”

“Y-Yeah!”

“A cute and flouncy one, where your cute little ass pokes out every time you bend over in it,” he grunts, leaning forward as his pumping gets faster, “Your bare ass just begging for a hard slap – fuck! Tell me you’d like that!”

“I’d love it!” you agree quickly, your whole body on fire just from his words. But then, despite everything, a thought occurs to you, “B-But, daddy. I don’t have a flouncy pink dress like that.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll buy you one.” Ari promises. “But first, you need to take your shorts off for me.”

You don’t even object this time. The fabric of your pyjama shorts is all wet and sticky against your pussy, so you quickly discard them before resuming what you’re doing. And you can’t help but throw your head back and moan embarrassingly loudly, because the stuffie’s fur catching against your bare clit feels heavenly. You circle your hips against Fluffy with renowned vigour, all while Ari watches you closely with carnal eyes.

“Show me your ass,” he orders you softly, and yet there’s a note of authority in his tone, “show daddy your cute little baby ass, sweetheart.”

You grab your phone, scrunching your eyes shut as you twist awkwardly, pointing it to your ass. But your heart skips a beat when Ari groans in appreciation.

“Fuck, you’ve got such a cute little butt, princess,” Ari murmurs, his gaze on you intense. “I bet it jiggles all cutely when you slap it, huh?”

“I – ah! – I dunno…”

His dark eyes flash, “Slap your ass for me, princess.”

Oh gosh, how embarrassing! You hesitate, “I…I…”

“Do it. Do what daddy tells you,” Ari runs his tongue over his lips, “I’m in charge and I know what’s best for you, sweetheart. Don’t disappoint me. Spank your little baby ass for daddy.”

You do as he asks, so completely under his control that you just can’t think straight. All you want to do is chase your own pleasure as you continue to ride your stuffed animal, and listen to the dirty talk coming out of Ari’s mouth. You gingerly slap your ass lightly, and Ari moans in appreciation before ordering you to do it harder. You comply once more, you’re so close to orgasming that you don’t even think twice.

“Yeah, fuck. Just like that, baby. God, I wish I could spank that cute ass of yours myself. Next time I see you at a party, I’m bending you over my lap in front of everyone. You’d let me do that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes!” You’d have agreed to anything at this point.

“Damn right. And I’d flip your skirt over and spank your bare ass in front of all my fucking friends, because you’re my property and I can do that, can’t I?”

“Y-Yes! Ari, I’m so close!”

“Oh yeah, baby? Cum then. I’m not stopping you.”

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, and you don’t stop moving your hips, imagining your riding his thick cock as you cry out in pleasure. And you can hear Ari talking you through it, calling you his good little girl, telling you that daddy’s so proud of you, that you’re doing so well, that you’re so good at following instructions. And fuck, you’ve never been this wet before, and you’ve never cum this hard before. It takes you a good few minutes to recover, limbs shaking and your core so sensitive.

Once you finally regain your senses, you peer shyly at your phone once more to see Ari throwing away a wad of tissues.

“D-Did you…?”

He snorts, “After that show you just put on? Of course I did.”

Heat rushes to your face, a part of you disappointed that you missed out on watching him orgasm because you were too wrapped up in your own pleasure. “Oh. Wow, okay.”

Ari grins, “Look at you, all shy all of a sudden. Cat got your tongue, baby?”

You purse your lips and stick your chin out defiantly at him, “No! Just… Tired is all.”

Ari nods thoughtfully, “Tired, huh? So then I shouldn’t come over tonight?”

Tonight? But it was so late! And yet your pussy thrums at the thought.

“Y-You wanna come over?” You breathe.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I gotta touch you in person, otherwise I won’t be able to sleep the whole night.” He flashes you a cocky smile, and you watch in awe as he zips his jeans and pulls a shirt over his head. You can’t help but bite your lip. God, he was the most attractive, hottest guy you’d ever seen in your life!

“So, you gonna text me your address, or what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

So like… when I get horny, I tend to write things like this. ANYWAYS, lemme know what you think! Love you guys! This was sitting in my drafts for ages and finally I decided to finish it! 🩷🩷🩷

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #steve rogers #chris Evans #steve rogers x reader #daddy

[starkeyisthelastname]

stepbro!rafe jealous of reader and her bf at the christmas party.. then following her upstairs and fucking her while everyone else is out there

I went a little overboard. 🥴 this is very dirty. You’ve been warned

Rafe had no idea what you saw in that bozo, Chad. He was a kook who was perfect in the eyes of Ward and your mother. Attending Chapel Hill, excellent grades, a gentleman, gave back to the community. All things he was not or had given up due to his addiction to coke or constant disappointment from his father. The problem was that Chad didn’t know you like he did. He watched with squinted blue eyes as you giggled at something the douche had said. You two stood by the glittering Christmas tree as Sarah took a picture of the two of you.

The mini Burberry skirt you wore that barely covered your ass, had his cock straining against the khaki pants he wore. The fact that, that asshole got to be by your side all a night during this party had his blood boiling. He downed the amber liquid in his glass as he watched you tell Sarah that you had forgotten something upstairs. With the party busy, he easily followed you up the immaculate staircase towards your room.

Humming a Christmas song, you skipped over to the decorated pink Christmas tree in the corner of your room. Bending down, you picked up the gift you had forgotten only to hear the door shut and lock behind you. You turned around to see Rafe, eyes almost black as his jaw tensed while he looked at you. “You are quite the good little actress aren’t you.” He cracked out, voice low. “Your perfect little boyfriend has no idea that the same lips that kissed him tonight were wrapped around my cock this morning does he?”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the memory of sucking your step-brother’s cock in the shower that morning. It was more than wrong. Not only because you had a boyfriend but hello because he was your step-brother. Your step-brother who had a dick that was made for you. You began to stutter out something when his tall frame stalked towards you, hand gripping your throat. “You are gonna lay here and take my dick while your dumbass boyfriend looks for you downstairs.”

He shoved you onto your perfectly made bed, ring adored hand ripping the $340.00 designer tights. The red jeweled thong you wore was torn off, while his hand that was on your neck came down to release his monster from the confinement of his Calvin Klein’s. He pulled you closer, one leg resting on his broad shoulder while the other was bent back towards your chest. “Gimme your phone.” He demanded.

You didn’t even have time to ask why when he grabbed it from where it sat on one of your furry pillows. He unlocked it, the familiar ding of taking a video making your head perk up. “Rafe- what are you do-..” You were cut off by him slamming in all nine inches into your slick cunt, making you let out a gasp instead. Your phone getting a closeup view of your step-brother’s cock sliding in and out of your leaking pussy.

“Shit- look at that my man Chad. Look at the mess your girlfriend is making on my dick.” Rafe chuckled as the camera captured the sounds of your squelching pussy. His thrusts sped up at at a pace, you knew only Rafe could make happen. Whimpers and whines being the only sounds you could make out, as he bruised your cervix. You knew exactly what he was doing. Taking a video to send to the same boyfriend you were just taking pictures with.

“Tell him that you are taking your step-brother’s dick like a good slut.” The older boy spit out, his free hand gripping your hair to make you look directly at the camera. You couldn’t find words, looking completely cock drunk, despite your makeup still being flawless. Your breath began to shallow as you could already feel your orgasm coming strong.

“Tell him or I’ll fucking spot right now.”

You shuttered, your hands gripping the fluffy duvet while you looked at the camera. “No- please don’t daddy.” You cry out, Rafe’s favorite nickname making him want to blow right there. “I’m taking my step-brother’s dick like a good slut.” Your climax hitting hard as you squirted all over Rafe’s NorthFace fleece.

Your thighs shook as you came down from your high, collapsing onto the bed and listening to the sounds above you.

“Open your fucking mouth.” Rafe grunted, pulling out quickly as he aimed his seed on your tongue, your pretty face accidentally getting covered in it as more unexpectedly shoots out.

The video was sent to Chad with the caption underneath reading.

Merry Christmas.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #drew starkey smut #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron prompt #obx smut #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #obx #stepbro!rafe #dark rafe cameron

[mavrintarou]

[3:19 PM] - Suna Rintarou

Gotta head out - be back later to edit... or not. Enjoy!

Warning: smut . Aside from volleyball, Rintarou was naturally gifted with the camera.

He had captured some of the most exquisite and breathtaking photographs of Y/n, making it look like they were professional shots.

He also possessed a collection of the most embarrassing shots, which he kept strictly to himself. There were also a few special ones that were meant for his eyes only, capturing intimate moments between them.

He was a very active Instagramer – posting quite frequently for his million followers, but he kept his relationship out of public eyes.

When Rintarou created a TikTok account, his followers grew by the day.

He would capture a wide range of videos, from documenting his volleyball training sessions and games to showcasing the delicious lunches Y/n packed for him. He even recorded moments of making his coffee, creating a collection of glimpses into his daily life.

Each time he makes a video, Y/n gets a notification, and she entertains herself with them.

“My baby made me some Korean food today,” he sniffs his bento, groaning. “I told her I’ve been craving some Korean food, and… she loves me so much.” He stuffs his mouth with a Kimbap. “You guys ask if she makes me lunch every day – yes. Does she not work or… is she a stay-at-home partner?” He shoves another Kimbap into his mouth. “She’s definitely an independent woman who earns her own money and won’t allow me to support her like the best boyfriend I am…” he narrows his eyes directly at the camera, “she always watches my videos, so – please tell her that it she needs to let me treat her like a queen.”

Y/n burst out laughing and clicked on the comments.

Suna’s girlfriend, please allow Rintarou to treat you like a queen!

Can we get a glimpse of her?

She is so lucky!

You’re so lucky; your food looks so good!

Y/n narrows her eyes at the first comment.

You’re so hot, Rin; please fuck me!

Y/n clicked on the person’s profile of a young woman.

Curiosity got Y/n going through Rin’s other videos to view the comments. She saw the same account commenting on every one of Rin’s videos, saying something inappropriate.

.

Rin checked his phone as he slipped his shirt on.

He was still waiting for a message from Y/n.

Though it wasn’t unusual, it felt odd that she didn’t text or react to his video.

She always commented or reacted to his video.

Did she not see it?

But it clearly said Read 2:35 PM underneath the message.

Without wasting another moment, he made his way toward their apartment, a sense of urgency guiding his steps. Sitting behind the wheel, waiting at a red light, he drummed his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel. The unsettling feeling gnawed at him, the sense that something was amiss between them weighing heavily on his mind.

While they didn’t frequently engage in conflicts, he made a conscious effort to minimize arguments, fully aware that disagreements are a natural part of any relationship. Over the course of their four-year journey together, they encountered only a few instances where tension escalated. However, despite needing some time to cool off, they always found a way to come together and discuss their concerns. They were committed to understanding each other’s perspective and exploring ways to grow and improve for the sake of their relationship.

And have hot makeup sex.

Rintarou jams the button to his floor in the elevator impatiently. Of all days, it seemed like the elevator door was being an asshole and taking its merry time to get him up to his floor.

“Y/n!” He shouts once he enters his apartment.

“Yes?” her sweet voice calls from the kitchen.

She doesn’t sound upset or mad, he thought. He quickly toes off his shoes and drops his gym bag in the living room to head to the kitchen. His heart relaxes a bit, finding her in the kitchen preparing dinner.

But he was still a little nervous and wasn’t entirely convinced she wasn’t upset.

He goes to wrap his arms around her waist, kissing her cheek and resting his chin on her shoulder. “How was your day?”

“Good,” she answered, “you?”

“Tired,” he answered as usual, “but a little… nervous.”

She finished whatever she was doing before washing her hands, the both of them doing a funny dance towards the sink because once Rin clings on to Y/n, it is no use trying to get him off.

“Go wash your hands and sit down; let’s eat.” She hears his sigh before he lets her go, and she watches over her shoulder as he pouts towards the sink to wash his hands and takes a seat in his usual spot.

Y/n leans against the counter, watching him zone out sitting there. Rintarou may be hard to read on the court, but Y/n could read him anytime.

Something weighed heavily on him, and his emotions spilled out much like a toddler’s when they couldn’t express their feelings.

He doesn’t realize Y/n has yet to set the table, “why are you nervous?”

He gazed up at her with a lost expression, his voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t react to my video,” he murmured, seeking an answer with a hint of disappointment in his tone.

Y/n arched an eyebrow at him, suppressing a chuckle. “What?”

“You didn’t react to my video today… did you not watch it?” he inquired with a  tinge of concern. “Did I say too much in the video about you?” The renowned and notorious Middle Blocker for EJP Raijin resembled an anxious child, desperately seeking reassurance if he had done the right thing.

Y/n furrowed her brows, a realization dawning upon her as she acknowledged her lack of response to his video. “Oh, Rin,” she chuckled softly, moving closer and straddling his lap. Tenderly cupping his face, she pressed her lips against his pout, kissing it away. “I did watch it, but I must have gotten carried away reading the comments,” she explained, her tone apologetic. Her eyes narrowed as she mentioned one particular fan. “There was this one fan who was quite vulgar towards you,” she continued, her voice hinting disapproval. “I didn’t like it one bit.”

Something flickered in his eyes, and Y/n couldn’t help but roll her eyes, anticipating his reaction. “Are you… jealous?” he asked a hint of amusement in his voice.

There it is.

“No, I’m not. I don’t need to be jealous when I already have you.”

Rin kisses her throat and nips the skin there. “You’re right; I’m yours, all yours, just as you’re mine, right?”

“Hmm,” Y/n runs her fingers through his hair before gripping a fist full and tilting his head back. “All mine.”

His eyes widen for a split second before they squeeze shut when Y/n trails her tongue along his jaw and down his neck. She was not one to mark him in prominent areas, but tonight, she showed no mercy to his neck.

“Y/n…” Rin groans ten minutes later. His hands grip her hips, desperately guiding her to rock herself over his lap. “’nough…”

She pulls back and admires her work; now she knows how Rin feels. She leans to peck his lips and lifts herself, “all right, let’s eat!”

“What!” His grip on her hips tightens, “no way, you can’t leave me like that.” He looks down at his crotch; the outlining of his thick cock is visible against his joggers.

“But… our food will get cold?”

Rintarou chuckles, “no way, baby, food can wait… not me.”

Y/n squeal when he pushes her onto the table, grabs the end of her yoga pants, and tugs them off in one go. He pulls her panties aside and pulls cock out enough to slowly thrust into her pussy.

“Ah… Rin,” she moans, gripping the edge of the table. “Fuck… yes…”

His thrusts are slow and deep. “You had me worrying for no reason…” he leans over and grips her jaw to kiss her deeply, “I’ll show them – “ he speeds up his thrusts, “I’ll show them I’m yours… only yours….”

All the rubbing and rocking over him stimulated her, and Y/n was close until Rin pulled out of her. “Rin?”

He maneuvers her onto her front side and smacks her ass before getting down on one knee. He pulls her panties off and smothers his face into her core, slurping, sucking, and biting.

“Rin!”

He squeezes her cheeks hard, taking a bite on each side before standing back up, “need to mark you as mine too…” he guides his cock back home and thrusts fast and hard.

Their kitchen echoes with skin slapping skin and the kitchen table squeaking.

“I’m so… I’m so close baby…” Rin groans, and seconds later, hips jerking and cock spasming as he cums inside.

Rin withdraws; his eyes are fixated and anticipating as his cum drips out.

A minute later, after catching each other’s breath, Rin whispered, “baby?”

Y/n turns to look over her shoulders, clearly in bliss. “Yes?”

“Bed?”

“Yes, please…”

.

“Today, my baby packed me my favorite… jelly fruit sticks!”

Y/n sipped her morning coffee and tapped the heart on the video before clicking on the comment button.

Those are my favorites too!

You’re like an excited schoolboy about their lunches!

Is no one going to talk about it?...

Suna-san… what are those marks on your neck?

Are those… hickies?

Those are definitely hickies… wow… his girlfriend is kinky…

. . .

@hellatrashdontask @queenelleee @wrongimagine @eadyladlegard @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @satoritendoucultsacrifice @yourgonvermnethooker @littlemochi @cloud-lyy @pana-dolle @basmamme @haitanifxn @itsroseally @warrior-of-justice @jmnfilter @captainchrisstan @omissanitizerlol

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu suna #suna smut #suna x reader #suna x y/n #suna rintarou x reader #haikyuu suna rintarou #suna rintarou smut #suna rintarou fluff #suna rintarou x #suna imagine

[leclsrc]

you know it ✴︎ cl16

genre: porn WITH plot (for once?! everyone cheered), humor, bit of fluff... oh inaccurate depictions of the 2022 season sorry

word count: 7k

Charles is a bit disappointed the pretty girl he harbors a crush on doesn’t have him listed as a Formula 1 crush. He is a lot disappointed that you two can’t fuck.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... degradation, praise, charles is a bit switchy here lol, penetrative sex, a bit of ass play sorry...., oral (m receiving), semi public sex, yeah

title from this. i love u guys im so sleepy

Joris insists there’s some big present waiting for Charles in his car, to celebrate the middle of the season that has, and will no doubt continue to stretch into a period of conflict and strategy woes. He yanks off the beanie sitting on his head, listens to small talk drifting between Joris and Carlos as they all walk toward their cars to alleviate the bubble of nerves in the low of his stomach. 

Sure enough, there’s an unassuming box lying on the driver’s seat. Joris slides into the passenger seat after Carlos drives away with his girlfriend, his grin shit-eating and mischievous. The door is half open when Charles takes the box to inspect it. White, with the Ferrari logo printed neatly on the centre (very classy touch), the sides are signed by different members of his team. He scratches through the seal and pulls the flap open.

He’s been given a quasi-official Ferrari box of condoms.

Thirty-six condoms, at that, small squares neatly lined up next to each other. Talk about a welcoming present. Not a camera, not racing memorabilia, not a new pair of shoes. Just condoms. Thirty-six of them.

“A mid-season pick-me-up,” presses his friend, giddily. The shorter male lounges comfortably on the seat, a blissful look of pride on his face. Laughing with exasperation, Charles wedges the box shut and tosses it carelessly into the backseat, preparing to drive. This isn’t his first rodeo with weird gifts—he’s half-sure he got adoption papers from an especially excited fan once before.

“You are such an asshole.”

“It’s also a congratulations on winning literally every race so far present,” Joris adds. It’s hyperbole but has a ring of truth to it. As the season closes, Charles’ chances of holding up the trophy this year increase. 

Despite himself, Charles has a better outlook on his chances for the remainder of the season, driving-wise. He’s given it his all so far, and the rest looks promising enough. He only hopes he’s right. Netflix also increased the amount of people getting into the sport, so he’s dealing with tons more fans and nosey DMs, but it’s not too much of an impediment to a hopefully stellar season.

Charles makes a right. “Do you plan to use them?” Joris asks then, a teasing tone taking on his voice as he scrolls through his phone.

“No, not really,” Charles says, lying straight through his teeth.

“You’re a fucking liar, you are.” He whips his head toward Charles, observing his stoic side profile. “You’re single, haven’t gotten laid in months—”

“—weeks.” Corrects Charles with a cough, the defense coming at an embarrassing speed.

“…Case in point. And sports gets everyone horny. And if you didn’t know, Mattia actually OK-ed the condoms, so you’ve basically been greenlit by your boss to fuck half the world. Thank me later. I’m proud of myself.”

“Sports gets everyone competitive. Because it’s sports. Which, you’re conveniently forgetting, is my life profession.”

“Loosen up,” Joris whistles lowly. “You think Lewis got seven titles by being a closed-off celibate? It’s practically tradition to fuck around if you’re single in sports. And, for others, being in a relationship is barely an obstacle, anyway.”

Charles hates to admit that Joris is right—because he is. Racing isn’t racing without the extravagant parties that follow, and the girls and guys brought back to hotels for reasons known to everyone. People from everywhere come to the paddock and the clubs—models, influencers, actors. The pent-up energy has to go somewhere, he supposes.

But even if the little shit is right, Charles still maintains a level of dignity. Ergo, he’s steadfast in his belief that he will not be sleeping around or putting this godforsaken box of condoms to any semblance of use while the rest of the season progresses. He just hopes he won’t eat his words.

—

Monza kicks off with a 1-2 and secures Charles with a comfortable lead ahead Max.

He is high on adrenaline all night, toasting and chugging to the win, snapping pictures with Carlos, proud out of his mind. It’s everything he’s wanted and more, a quench to the thirst he’d developed over the season, a slap in the face to his doubters, a kiss on his. He texts his family, friends who aren’t present, some other people who he feels are deserving of a personal announcement, and pockets his phone.

“Now would be a great time to put that gift to use,” Carlos says at some point, when everyone in the garage is kicking back alcohol and slowly preparing to move the celebrations someplace else.

Charles cringes visibly, having almost forgotten about the dreaded gift, and totally forgotten Carlos’ knowledge of it. Even with the recent win, he’s already thinking of the next, the promise of a two-peat, another podium, hell, another 1-2. The condoms were honest to God the last thing on his mind.

They break apart an hour later, when Charles is heading to the hotel and Carlos is headed somewhere else. He’s almost to the exit when someone calls his attention in a curt English voice.He turns and finds Lewis jogging toward him, outside of his race suit and back in the fashionable apparel Charles merely wishes he could pull off.

“Lewis,” he waves, pacing toward him to save the extra few seconds of waiting. 

“Amazing, amazing race, man,” the elder compliments. “You’ve got the best chance at the title here.”

Warmth melts into Charles’ body and he offers praise back, which—praising Lewis is just about the easiest thing in the world. Nerves bleed out of him as the conversation continues, the atmosphere of a finished race a welcome accompaniment to their strategic talk. 

“Headed to a party, yeah?” Lewis asks when they’ve both exhausted the topic. Charles gives a half-hearted shrug, already energized enough from such a momentous win, and he nods in response. “Nah, I get it. Sometimes you just gotta sleep. But hey, if you’re ever free, we should go get dinner sometime.”

—

The “dinner sometime” happens in Singapore. Having gotten P1 beside Lewis and therefore once again high off the adrenaline, Charles claps Andrea on the back and retrieves his phone to view two texts. One reads Put the condoms to use yet, champ? from Joris, and the other Can I take you up on the dinner? from Lewis. One goes answered and the other goes muted on his iMessage.

A little something he failed to remember was Lewis’ plant-based diet, a fact that hurtles back toward him when he can’t find steak on the menu of this classy, hole-in-the-wall type of restaurant. Of course Lewis would know these types of places, he thinks. He’s a millennial semi-hipster with a separate Instagram account for his dog.

Charles ends up ordering pasta, and Lewis beside him orders a cacophony of very vegan, hippy sounding meals, the quantity of which could feed the two of them. “I hope you don’t mind,” Lewis says when the waiter departs, “but a friend is actually joining us tonight.”

“Sure,” Charles says honestly. As long as it’s not some deranged hyperfan, he does well in social situations. Right then, Lewis calls someone over. Charles looks up, squints through the dim mood lighting to try and make out the nearing figure. And then you’re sitting down across them, smiling softly, exchanging hellos with Lewis.

A little something Lewis fails to remember is his “friends” can just as well be called “celebrities,” because he is, after all, a sporting legend. So if Lewis says “friend,” Charles will assume it’s a “friend,” and not a world-famous model whose face is plastered everywhere on and offline.

“Charles Leclerc,” he says blankly.

You introduce yourself, sliding easily into a bout of questions, apologies for missing the race, you’re impossibly jetlagged, it’s crazy. Lewis chips in with something about how he’s already ordered food for the both of you, and this and that, and Charles is hopeless, staring at your face the entire time. He hopes he looks more sexy than aloof or, worse, starstruck, because it’s turning out to be the kind of situation where he looks like the deranged hyperfan, and not the other way around for once.

To be clear, Charles isn’t a fan of you. He just knows of you, because honestly, who doesn’t at this point? You’re talking on and on about how your latest shoot with Jacquemus was a pain because you shot in a tank top in sub-zero weather, but you express it like it’s the most profound topic on Earth.

Lewis turns to him and, in an (eventually successful) effort to include more of Charles in the conversation, goes, “She’s a big Formula One fan, Charles.”

Okay. Common ground. Charles lifts both brows smugly, his eyes flickering back over to you. “Really?”

You meet his eyes and smile, looking downward and blinking owlishly. You’re so pretty, long lashes fluttering as you blink and try to find an answer. Christ, you’re so painfully his type.

Lewis chimes in again—“Really. And not just because she and I are friends. I mean she was into racing before we got acquainted. Honestly. Quiz her and everything”—then excuses himself to “take a call.” (His phone wasn’t even ringing—total bullshit—but Charles is ultimately grateful for it.)

You make a face of shut up toward the departing Lewis, and Charles exhales a quiet laugh at your defiance. You clear your throat and come up with an answer.

“I’m not a big fan,” you say. “I’m more of a casual, ‘every once in a while’ type of fan.”

“That’s what every big fan of sports says,” Charles says smoothly. 

“Is it?” You ask, cocking your head to the side, making a tch noise. You chuckle before going, “Well, if you insist, I’ll be honest. I didn’t want it to come to this, but okay. I am a fan… of Red Bull.”

Charles fakes extreme offense, his jaw dropping as if totally scandalized. You laugh, throwing two hands up in faux surrender. “Not Red Bull,” he says, his tone making him sound even more devastated. “You’re telling me you—don’t tell me you think Max Verstappen is attractive.”

“I mean, a bit!”

Charles makes sarcastic sounds of disapproval, and you laugh. Charles leans forward, and you do, too, both of you smiling. “So you’re into the angry drivers?”

“I’m not into a specific kind of driver,” you say casually, your tongue peeking out to lick over your bottom lip. Your voice is as soft as it is firm, slow and demure, matching the way your eyes glint. You’re impossibly pretty. He almost can’t handle it.

“So who’s making the cut?” He prompts, interested.

“Well, for starters, drivers who are my age,” you say slowly. “I turned twenty-four this year, so anyone within that bracket.”

“Oh?” Charles pretends to delve into deep thought, teasing. “Maybe Stroll? He’s very funny, speaks good English. You can never really say no to a Canadian.”

Your face warms, and you hope your flustered state isn’t too obvious as you shake your head. “He seems fun, but I prefer somebody a bit… a bit older.”

“Older…” he hums. “Pierre, perhaps? Tad bit older, real charming, great driver. I can introduce you. We’re good friends, you know.”

You click your tongue, smiling shyly. You bite your lip and it takes everything in Charles to not turn on his horny gears when he sees you, big eyes and lip bite, look so pretty. “You tease me,” you say meekly. Charles covers a cough with a chuckle and adjusts his position on the seat.

Later, after Lewis comes back in (“Long call, eh? It was about Roscoe.” Bullshit again) and you all get to order drinks, and you’ve departed in your private car, pressing an air kiss to Lewis and waving goodbye to Charles, he turns to the Mercedes driver and hums.

“Next time you have one of these”—he points to the restaurant, gestures to the front door—“dinners, let me know, okay?”

“Ah.” Lewis winks, smirking. “I’ll be sure to.”

—

Understandably, your schedules never seem to mesh well together. Lewis ends up giving Charles your number as compensation.

He stares at the contact longer than he’d like to admit, when he’s marinating in the sweltering heat of Austin. He’s finished much of his work for this half of the day so he’s mostly watching the engineers work on the last bits of modification for Sunday; he cherishest the free time and drafts, reads, and rereads texts, scours Google and Instagram for pictures of, and anything related to, you.

There’s a few new articles about buying a new car (a Benz, much to Charles’ chagrin) and new photoshoots intermittently scattered across Europe, with all sorts of brands. He sees a picture you’ve posted of yourself smiling at the camera and thinks of how pretty it would look as his lockscreen. 

Am I seeing you soon? He texts finally. He hopes it’s enough to let you know who he is.

Hopefully is the reply. He smiles the whole day.

—

You’ve been texting and calling almost everyday, conversations stretching continents. He only sees you next in Mexico, Friday night, at a club Lewis has rented out for a crazy price that will no doubt be replenished in days anyway. He’s dropped to second here, but the thrill riding in him makes up for his disappointment. The place is so crowded—everyone and their mums seem to have been invited here—room blinking purple and blue, each step vibrating with the heavy bass of EDM. He catches you right as you exit the washroom area, and you look pleasantly surprised to see him.

He saw you earlier, when you were doing shots of tequila and chatting with with Bella and Lewis, but just as quickly as he spotted you, you’d dipped back into the sea of people. Now is better, he thinks. You two are alone.

“Charles, hi,” you say casually. You’re wearing a tight top and a short skirt that, despite Charles’ best efforts, always cast his gaze downward. He wonders what’s underneath, hungers to get his hands there. But he’s nothing if he’s not patient, willing to play the long game.

He takes a step forward, his gaze steady on you. Charles isn’t the tallest driver, but he’s got a big presence. You swallow, taking a step back to accommodate him. He smirks. “You look pretty.” 

“You flatter me,” you say thickly, smiling, inviting him closer. The air is hot around the both of you—when your eyes flit around, they see nobody. You’re alone together. His eyes pierce into yours so deep you feel like breaking eye contact, exhaling as you take another step back—evidently, you’re distracted, because you stumble.

His arm circles around your waist, and once you steady, the hand moves down to your hip. It stays, a reminder of what you might be getting soon. You smile curtly, wondering what this might look like to a bystander, a stranger. Somebody might want to piss and walk in to see the strongest world champion contender’s hand on Chanel’s poster girl’s waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly against your ear.

“More than.” You say, breath shaky. “It’s more than okay.”

He chuckles. “Good. I’d hate if we couldn’t fuck before Abu Dhabi.”

Your finger traces down and wraps around the belt loop of his jeans. “Who said anything about fucking?”

Charles exhales a laugh, his lips curling upward into an amused smile. “Ah? I can’t fuck you, then?”

“I’ll let you fuck me when you’re holding up the world champion trophy,” you say sweetly, tugging him closer. “That’s okay, right?” You stare up at him, blinking, pouty. He wonders, is this how you might look with your lips wrapped around his—

“That’s about a month away.” His composure barely wavers, his hand traveling lower, blunt nails digging into your ass. Your breath hitches. 

“I’m aware,” you say lowly. So be it, Charles thinks—he’s got thirty-six condoms for a reason.

“Define fuck,” he says, voice rough.

“Penetration.” You’re quick with it, cocking your head to the side. You lean back confidently, testin him, eyes batting flirtatiously. 

It’s time he get a little creative.

—

Daytime weather is hot and the paddock is swarming with people, but Charles has his sights set on somebody sitting in the Mercedes hospitality. He manages to get out of morning meetings earlier, wedging himself out of the room and passing by a mirror to fix his hair with admirable concentration. He’s in the middle of combing through it when a force tugs at the hem of his polo, causing him to stumble backwards.

“Uh—Carlos? What the hell?” He asks, brow raised defensively. Facing him are Carlos, Joris, and Pierre, arms crossed over their torsos and amused expressions on their faces.

“What are you doing?” Asks Pierre, cocking his head to the side.

“Fixing my hair.” 

“Pussy appointment?” Joris interjects; the vulgarity of his statement earns him a poke on the side from Carlos, who clicks his tongue.

“Wh—I don’t—”

“You are shit at lying, mate,” says Pierre, his lips curled into a devious smile. “Who is it?”

“It’s nobody,” he lies.

“Charles,” says Lewis suddenly from behind them, waving his arms to get the former’s attention, “are you going to go over and say hi?”

Hook, line, and sinker. He’s been caught. “Well, well, well,” Carlos starts, mischievous.

“Guys—” Charles says, attempting to make an excuse.

“Looks like your vow of celibacy isn’t so far off after all,” Pierre adds. “That one over at Mercedes is going to break it, eh?”

“Yeah.” Joris says, smirking.  “Lucky George, huh.”

The three face him, incredulous. “I was kidding,” he fibs, once he realizes his epiphany is wrong. “Kidding.”

Charles walks off, and ends up seeing you right where he expected you, sitting beside Lewis in a tiny dress with your hair pinned up into a bun. Almost naturally, your words fall into the flirtatious back-and-forth you’d started at the dinner, hyperaware of the cameras snapping your pictures. At some point, the Brit excuses himself to “take a call” (again, bullshit) and leaves the two of you alone.

“See anything nice on the paddock?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” you say with a teasing smile, head cocking to the side to gauge his reaction. He chuckles.

“Did you get a picture with Max?”

“Only a ton.” You pause. “And Daniel, too.”

“Ah, you’re just crushing on the whole paddock, now are you?” He pokes his tongue into his cheek, leans forward.” Uh, Checo?”

“Pass,” you say with a nose scrunch. You’re so fucking pretty.

“Lewis.”

“God, pass. He’s not ugly, but he’s my brother at this point.”

“Pierre.”

“Horribly French, but… smash.”

“Are you not into the French?” He smiles. “Good to know. Hmm—Carlos.”

“I’d be stupid to say anything other than smash.” You narrow your eyes, licking over your lips. “I’m into the Ferrari guys, is the thing.” His gaze travels to your crossed legs, long and disappearing into the hem of your dress.

He smirks. “Are you?”

“I really am,” you hum.

“Are you staying long? All weekend?”

“Yeah, I’m free from work for now,” you say casually. “Any recommendations on what fun things I can do here?”

“I can think of…” he says, smirking a little. “A few.”

—

Stupid places to have sex, number one: a motorhome.

Still, Charles is crowding you up against the wall of the room, swallowing the whimper that leaves your mouth with his own. And still, this isn’t sex. At least not the kind he wants the most. He mentally praises Carlos for being able to decipher the typo-laden text he’d sent out on the way here, one hand around your waist, the other barely capable of typing with how fast his brain ran. Clesr the fuckng room npw now npw it read. Thank God.

Your mouth tastes like champagne, and everywhere else smells divine. Your hands roam impatiently over his shoulders and you make muted noises of frustration at your inability to pull his shirt off. You settle for letting your hands crawl underneath it, stroking over his abs.

“D’you remember what I told you,” you pant, his lips insistent on your neck, “at the club?”

“Yeah,” he says, grunting at the memory.

“Okay.” You breathe. “Let me suck you off.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “Jesus. Okay. Fuck.”

You giggle, and he watches intently as you drop onto your knees, looking up at him through thick lashes. You’re insistent, pulling the zip of his jeans down and tugging his cock out. It’s pretty, thick like the rest of him, already hard. 

He’s at his limit, having you here like this, on you knees and stretching your lips around the tip of his dick. Your eyes barely leave his, fluttering as they tear up when you take him in your throat.

He throws his head back, squeezes his eyes shut, lets a hand unpin your bun and thread itself into the untangled hair. If he looks at you, he’ll see your head bobbing up and down on his cock, and he genuinely needs to hold off the orgasm first.

He rocks forward into your mouth and feels your throat close up around him. That’s enough to weaken his resolve, send grunts out of his throat that he can’t keep quiet.

“Oh, shit,” he says, feeling every part of your mouth and throat around him, warm and tense. He can’t help but thrust harder, steady but not too rough, growing more aroused with every sound of you choking on him.

His gaze flickers toward you. You’re teary-eyed, lips dotted with spit, choking yourself on his cock. Just for him, here in public. You pull off, blinking tears away from your face and looking up at him smilingly.

He laughs, guiding his cock back into your mouth, watching the way your brows knit together, pleading, almost. You're at his mercy, he thinks, thrusting harder, listening to your coughs. He loves seeing you like this, innocent face messy and slick with spit and precum, eyes big and needy.

“You like that?” He grunts. “Look at me.”

You nod the best you can. Yes, you want to say. Give me more, I love it.

“Yeaaah, fuck. I know you do,” he says through his teeth, staving off his orgasm the best he can before he releases all over you. The image alone of streaking you with his cum, claiming you all over-eyelashes, tits, cheeks splashed with cum-is enough to send him closer to the edge. “Gonna cum,” he grunts.

You moan around him, the vibrations causing his eyelids to flutter. You shake your head, pulling off and wrapping your hand around his dick, stroking slower. “Not yet,” you say sweetly, watching him throw his head back in pleasure and frustration. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, exhales shakily.

“Shit.” He whines. “Come on, baby. Make me cum.” He cups your jaw, stares down at you.

You stroke him faster, lip between your teeth. “Okay,” you say with a smile. “Cum for me, Charles.”

He stops staving himself off, falls into the pleasure and relief of your hand around his cock until he’s tense all over, knitting his hand into your hair and pushing you backwards so he can press his tip on the flat expanse of your tongue and let his cum shoot there. It drips from your tongue and lips onto your chin and you giggle, swallowing it, scooping up the rest to push into your mouth.

You stand, licking your lips slowly. “I owe you,” he pants, zipping himself up. Already he’s thinking about what he can do to you in return. Tease you, like you did him, bend you over his lap or sit you on it and make you whine and writhe and wait and cum. 

“I’ll hold you to that, champion,” you murmur, kissing his cheek and slipping back outside.

—

Ferrari’s advice is shit and despite his good mood and quick-witted driving, Charles finishes in fifth—not too shabby, but disastrous for his overall standings.

He suffers through a horrible debrief where attempts to defend his honor go unheard, his mood wilting and wilting until he’s at the media pen and ushered in front of some network he hasn’t heard of. They’ve probably paid to get a good seat here.

He’s in a shit mood, he hasn’t seen Joris or Pierre or you in hours, and has only faced red-faced frustrated superiors and now, wide-eyed journalists with loose mouths. The media’s done the mandatory speculation between the two of you, so he already expects questions of that variety, but it’s still hot and angry when he does.

Are you banging the Marc Jacobs model? The Irish reporter asks with a wink, so very unprofessional and not at all belonging to reputable media. The hot leggy one who has fuck me eyes?

Charles clenches his jaw, rolls his eyes, says fuck off mate and shoves him backward a little, then walks away and readjusts his cap. The clip makes Twitter and he feels even worse with the amount of troll accounts telling him to Jeez, take a joke.

After the ordeal, in your hotel room, you sigh softly and run your hands through his still shampoo-smelling hair. “You didn’t need to do that,” you say, a bit strictly. He knows you’re grateful, though, and a bit proud.

“I wanted to,” he insists softly. He forgets to leave before morning; when he does, he forgets his official Ferrari shirt hanging on the seat, leaving in a spare one instead. It’s got his number across the back. You don’t tell him.

—

In between Mexico and Sao Paulo, he manages to catch a flight to New York to peek into one of your photoshoots. It’s for Chanel and he’s half-sure he’s taken more pictures of you than the official photographer did. At this point your vague relationship status has caught onto headlines everywhere, and he doesn’t miss the curious murmurs from paparazzo that follow him as he enters your apartment later to greet you.

You’re in a pair of shorts and a tank top when you open the door, greeting him with a tight hug and leading him inside with a loose grip.

“Wine?”

“Please.” He eyes the wide area, the big floor-to-ceiling windows and the art on the walls. “Hungry?”

“Mmm.” You hum, sliding a glass toward him. “Starving.”

“Pizza?”

“Something else.” You smile. He tears his eyes away from your tits, poking out of the thin cotton, and coughs.

The both of you end up on the couch, your legs draped over his as you talk about racing.

He’s ranting about how he’s neck to neck with Max now, and the final verdict will likely be decided at Abu Dhabi, a fact that sends nerves all through him. You’re listening, you really are, but it’s difficult to keep listening because his hand, big and rough, is stroking your bare calf as he talks absentmindedly. 

You offer the occasional mmm-hmm and uh-huh and even the oh really to sell it, but he doesn’t seem to be conscious of how many sparks are coursing through you because of his hand on your leg. He just talks and talks, accent curving into curse words elicited by the competition.

And his voice, rough and deeper when he slides into Italian phrases, gets in your head, reminds you of the way he’d moaned when you had his dick in your mouth. You like that? he’d said, panting, heavy, hot. His hand remained in your hair, controlling you the same way you did him. Fuck.

When you blink, he’s stopped talking, and has likely noticed your wandering imagination if his teasing smile is anything to go by. You cough, clear your throat, adjust your thighs. You’re thinking—you can’t stop thinking—about what happened in Mexico, not just in the motorhome but in the club where he’d let his hand sprawl over your ass and stay there, possessive.

The tension rises. I owe you. He really does. You reach over and grab your phone from the coffee table, snap a few pictures of him. “—Hey!” He protests, scrabbling to grab it from you while balancing his half-full glass. “I look god awful.”

You stand up, review the picture. He looks so impossibly handsome. “You’re right, you do,” you say, pouting. 

He reaches over again, chuckling, and you avoid him. “Foul play!”

“Tch. At least show it to me,” he says defeatedly, so you do: presenting your screen to him.

Quickly, he makes a grab for it, but you just escape his grip, ending up right in front of him and leaning over. You’re losing your balance, digging your toes into your carpet to maintain stance. He spares a glance at your shorts, riding low on your hips, showing a bit of thin lace.

Charles tugs you forward by the hem of your top and then takes your wrist into his grip—the force of his grab makes your tits shake underneath your flimsy tank top. It’s dragged down so far your tits are spilling out. His eyes flicker down to them, dark, and a pretty smile spreads across his face.

“Come on, give it,” he challenges, eyes narrowing a little. You bite your lip, inwardly liking this a little too much—being at his mercy, trapped in his strong grip. You’re flustered and it shows.

He wrestles you onto his lap with ease, his arms steady around you. You stare downwards, dark eyes meeting his, hand on his broad shoulder for leverage. He’s so pretty, you think, so hot and handsome and you need him right now. Through his jeans you can feel how thick he is, his dick growing, getting hard and huge under you. It feels big even through a few layers—you can’t help but imagine how it might feel inside you.

Your phone clatters to the carpet behind the couch. “I win,” you say breathlessly.

He grabs your hips and jerks his upward, letting his stiff dick press up even more against your shorts.

“I think I’m the winner here,” he says gruffly, hands feeling you up all over. He thumbs at your chest, rubbing over your tits. You shiver—it feels good having him on you like this, your mind turning to mush.

“Shut up,” you laugh, shakily. A hand wanders in between your thighs, another coming to squeeze your barely-covered ass. You can’t focus on much, just his hands roaming everywhere and his hard dick pressing against your core. He shoves your hips downward again, his cock hard and perfectly against your pussy.

“You feel that?” He asks; it leaves him in one low breath.  

“Yeah,” you say, whimpering. “I want it.”

He grinds up against you again, his thumb teasing the hem of your shorts. Closer to where you want it. “Don’t think you could even take it, baby.”

“I hate you,” you say. “You know I can.”

He laughs. “We’ll see, yeah?” You find a rhythm of grinding down against his cock, nestled right against your ass. He’s everywhere and you can’t handle it anymore, finding yourself craving him more and more.

You moan against his neck—and then come to your senses. “No.”

He smirks when you pull away. “Tempted, were you?”

“Not…” You pause. You’re sweaty, flushed all over, and your panties are sticking to you from how wet you’ve grown. “Not very.”

—

Abu Dhabi is a son of a bitch.

It comes with meetings, meetings, debriefs, calls, meetings. Everything is riding on the night’s race, the flurry of social media a welcome source of anxiety for him as he watches the hours whiz by. You’d missed seeing him, understood he was busy; you send a selfie to compensate and it gets him calm enough to last the pre-race buzz.

Time speeds by with lunch, coaching, drills, talks with Carlos and Mattia and even Max, who displays support as strongly as competitiveness. Before he even realizes it, he blinks and he’s in his suit, adjusting his balaclava, inhaling, exhaling. Everything is just the way he likes—needs—it to be.

He drives himself to P2 behind Max, eyes shut.

All else seeps into him, natural method, natural routine. He flexes his thumbs. Through the team radio his engineer goes good luck, and Charles’ practice bleeds into his subconscious. The air is heavy, with tension and excitement, the division of blue and red. Everyone’s eager to see who claims the title. 

The lights go off and everything is left to skill, blurring into noise and turns and expletives yelled into the team radio. He can’t even feel himself think, turning with dexterity and overtaking with the kind of vengeance he hasn’t let out in a while. 

For all his trying, Max keeps up just the same, keeping a neck and neck level for the relative entirety of the race. They’re milking out the last few laps together, and Charles feels every fibre of his being work toward this, just this, nothing but this right now. Nothing but the finish line.

You got this, Charles, says the engineer, voice heightening. Maiden world championship.

He nods to himself, trusts his instincts and when he catches sight of the finish line, he thinks: he’s the best driver on the grid.

So he revs faster, and the rest descends into—

Absolute fucking chaos.

—

He’s smiling when he approaches the reporter, who’s already holding the mic with wonder. He asks for a message in Italian, then reminds him—and the crowd—that, in case he forgot, he’s world champion. Charles thinks he genuinely can’t ever.

“What are you doing to celebrate?” He asks then, smiling.

Sweaty, with damp hair and shiny skin, he smirks and leans closer. “Someone, I hope.”

—

“Hey there, champ.”

You’re already leaning against his hotel room door when he gets there, after the chore of wrestling himself free from the rest of the team pressuring him to get drinks. Carlos helps out, babbles something or other about Charles being “busy with something else”—which isn't wrong, not at all. He offers a smooth wink, bending down to kiss you.

Your mouths meet, softly first then increasingly messy as he pins you against the door. You push away, breathing heavy. “I don’t know what you’re into, but I don't want the top floor of this hotel seeing us fucking.”

“I wasn’t into that, but now that you brought it up…” You swat his arm and he laughs, unlocking the door and pulling you inside. You’re clinging onto him—his arms, his chest, anything, kissing up his neck and jaw. He groans at how needy you are. All for him, he thinks. Probably soaked through your panties and it’s all because of him.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says gently, voice low as he leads you to the bed. He catches sight of your shirt and a brow raises. “Did you buy that?”

“Hmm?” You look down, following his gaze and blinking. The shirt you’re wearing is loose, hanging off your shoulders and hastily tucked into your miniskirt so it looks like you actually have trousers on. “Oh. No, this is yours.”

“Mine.” He smiles a little. “You look so good in it, princess.” His hands mindlessly grope at you, hungry, sneaking underneath your skirt to feel at the lace there. 

In retaliation, you lean forward, unbutton his jeans and tug at it.

“You left it at one of my”—you gasp, feeling his finger sneak its way beneath your panties—“my hotel rooms.”

“Pretty girl, pretty shirt, pretty lace, yeah?” He tugs, lets the garter of the skirt loosen and fall off your hips on its own. “Red.”

“You take too long,” you groan.

“You’re just eager,” he laughs, thumbing at your clothed cunt.

You’re so wet, evident even in the lazy circles he rubs over your entrance. You’re aching, desperate, begging almost. So he gives you what you want, maneuvers you onto his lap and pushes your (his) shirt up to stuff your mouth with it.

It won’t work for long, but it’s enough. He pushes your panties to the side and pulls his hard dick out. You’re sitting against it now, leaking slick onto it, at his mercy, branding his name and his number across your back. It’s hot. 

He stares at the way you rock softly against him, hungry eyes meeting yours. “You’re so pretty, baby. Ruined.”

“Fuck me already,” you say, voice throaty, innocent.

“Can you take it?” He asks, teasing you, slapping his dick against your clit softly. You whine.

“Please,” you insist. “I want it. Make it fit.”

He’s a massive tease with it, his breath fanning against your skin, hands sticky on where they’ve hiked your shirt up. He lowers you, slower, against the tip of his dick and he watches your eyes flutter when you sink onto it. After ages of waiting. Your grip’s like iron on his shoulders, moans leaving you in quiet bursts of pleasure. 

You’re far away, dumb from the feeling, you barely register the way he shoves the shirt back into your mouth to keep you quiet. “So fucking tight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. It’s muffled, barely intelligible. “For you.”

You’re only able to take it because you’re so wet, so turned on, face and brain filled with nothing but pleasure. He can’t take it.

“Mmmfh,” you say, muffled by the bite of cotton in your mouth. You’re sweaty, flushed, overstimulated—you don’t know where to focus. On his lips against your jaw, his hand on your neck, the way your pussy swallows his aching dick. “It’s so big, I—”

“You okay?” He asks, breathily. Smiling. He’s in control, but still he sounds whiny—almost, if not as desperate as you. “You’ll take it all for me, won’t you?” 

“Oh god,” is all you muster, letting him stretch you out even more, gushing all over his cock. “I, I—”

He moans, his grip tight against your waist, watching his dick bury itself in you. “You’re getting me so full,” you whine. “So deep, I feel it—” you taper off into a moan again when he presses hs thumb to your clit, distracting you from the stretch as he finally, finally bottoms out.

“Good?”

You nod. So good, give me more.

You grind against him, let the shirt fall out of your mouth. “You’re getting my dick so wet,” he comments, breathless. “So pretty for me, too.”

Growing antsy, he attempts to move, but you whine. Your turn to tease, you think, after he was a dick to you just now. “Not yet,” you say, lip caught between your teeth. His hands are tight around your waist. Desperate.

You squeeze around him, watch his brows knit together, a grunt leave him in a frustrated exhale. “You wanna fuck me?” You tease against his neck, blinking innocently.

“Yes,” he replies, not missing a beat. You pout, like you’re empathizing with the problem you’re causing; you grind slowly against him and he lets out a guttural fuuuuck. He’s so big, so hard—you can feel every inch of him inside you.

“Tell me again, Charles,” you say with a giggle. You’re so hot like this, face flushed and timid, hips moving slowly. He could cum just from the way you bite your lip, the way a whimper slips out of you when he hits the right spot.

“—Yeah,” he says, sweetly. “I want to—please, let me fuck you. C’mon, baby, can I?”

“Aww,” you tease. 

“Can I?” He asks again, voice deep and thin with the need to fuck you, thrust up into you and make you the dumb one. His face is flushed and desperate. “Can I move, baby? Let me, please.”

You’re not stupid. You know—if his flushed, pleading face and big green puppy eyes are anything to go by—that he’s going crazy, growing antsy. But you’re not complaining.

“Hmm,” you say, feigning genuine thought. “I don’t know, Charles. Feels good just like this. And you want to make me feel good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Yeah.” You repeat, staring into his dark eyes. He’s frustrated, desperate, flushed all over and sweaty. His fingers dig into your hips. “I’ll make you feel really good, baby, if you let me.”

“Go ahead,” you say softly, “fuck me, please.” And he’s thrusting upwards to meet you halfway. It’s knocking you out, almost, the pleasure of it, the dizzy onslaught of euphoria. He’s stretching you out so well, whining softly into your neck and yeah, you two have waited far too long to have this. You 

“Fuck,” he grunts, lids squeezed shut and head rolled onto your shoulder. “Go on, baby, ride it, make me cum.” He cups your jaw, reaches his thumb into your mouth. It’s too much, all of it. He makes you suck on it while thrusting up, dizzying you with his cock.

He grabs handfuls of your ass, teases his thumb at your tighter asshole just to watch your eyes flutter, feel your cunt grow wetter. “I’ll fuck you even fuller next time,” he says; the implication gets you hot.

You bounce harder, chasing release as his thumb teases over your ass, the tip of it just thrusting in enough to elicit strings of moans out of you. “Come on, ride me,” he goads. “So good for me.”

“Fuck,” you pant, “cum in me, please.”

You cum first, writhing around him and riding your orgasm out in lazy grinds over his hard cock. You want to see him cum, see his eyebrows knit and his mouth release pretty whines, feel him claim you inside, hands hot and heavy on your ass. He does, with a guttural fuuuuck, shoving his dick up in you to the base and spurting all his cum in you.

He thrusts, watches his cum leak out of you, fucks it back in, in a vicious cycle. You shiver, blinking coquettishly and watching along—and then you’re both crumpling over each other on the bed behind you. You pant heavily against his chest.

“Hey.” He muses out loud, drumming against your skin.

“Yeah?”

“I have thirty-six condoms we need to go through. Wanna go on a date?”

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

[jjunieworld]

the great bake off! ༘ ˚· 🍞 𓂅

read part two here ⇢ spilt milk ⋆｡˚

pairing: choi soobin x gn!reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, bakery au, baker!soobin and non-baker!reader, “competing”, slight banter, brief mention of blood, some sexual innuendos, soobin is super shy

synopsis: after getting fired from your job as a pizza delivery driver, you’re in desperate need to find a new job before you get kicked out of your apartment. that’s when you hear about the local bakery looking for employees. thinking, “why not? i’ve worked with dough before!”, you apply and actually get the job. that’s when you and the son of the bakery’s owner decide that it would be fun to compete to see who can make the most baked goods for a prize.

word count: 8.6k┊part two┊masterlist

a/n: i’m a little late, but thank you all so much for 100 followers! here’s a little treat (lmao) expressing my gratitude! finally joining everyone in making a baker!soobin fic lmao… i got carried away so this is pretty long. i don’t even think it counts as a oneshot anymore but i hope you enjoy :) shoutout to the lovely @jjunberry for the florist!sunoo agenda ❀

“and don’t come back!” yelled the manager of the job you just got fired from. you took your apron and hat off and threw them on the ground in front of the establishment. you scoffed loudly, noticing the passing stares of the people walking outside and the judging ones of the customers inside.

“wouldn’t fucking dream of it!” you yelled back. the manager stepped back out of the doorframe, eyes wide, lip curled, and brows scrunched ready to retort. you cut him off with a middle finger and turned, angrily walking away to where your car was.

you didn’t need that stupid pizza delivery job anyways. half the time you weren’t even delivering pizzas because of how shitty they tasted. which wasn’t a fault of you, but a fault of your manager, who was also the owner.

majority of the time he had you in the back doing his job, making the pizzas, while he sat in the break room watching alpha male videos on his phone.

you slammed your door shut and rubbed at your temples. you had a tension headache and you couldn’t think.

“fuck!” you yelled loudly. what are you going to do now? you need a job so you can pay the rent of your shitty overpriced apartment. and you just knew you weren’t getting your last paycheck from your ex-manager.

sighing, you pull out of the parking lot next to the pizza place and head back to your apartment. you desperately needed a shower and to start job hunting as soon as possible.

you push open the door of your apartment and take a look around, thankful that you cleaned before you left. it was small, but it was home.

after your shower, you got a call from your best friend.

“what a fucking asshole!” sunoo exclaimed. you propped your phone up on the roll of paper towels as you began making something to eat. “but now you can come work with me!”

your face scrunched up. “i’d rather get evicted. love you though!” sunoo was a florist. there wasn’t anything wrong with that, but you could barely tell a daisy apart from a daffodil. and the thought of being surrounded by a bunch of different flower smells gave you another headache.

sunoo rolled his eyes. “fine then!” on your phone screen he raised his hands up and took a step back from the camera. “be broke then! don’t come crying to me when you’re out on the streets in the pouring rain waiting on a miracle when i’m offering you one right now!” you laughed at him.

“whatever! working with you is my last option though.” you put a pot of water on the stove for ramen. you really didn’t feel like making something elaborate after the day you had. “help me, sunoo! start listing off available jobs!”

he raised his eyebrow at you, “what makes you think i know what jobs are available and what jobs aren’t? go on google!” you rolled your eyes at him. he chuckled at you. “i did hear that that bakery downtown was looking for new employees, though.”

you raised your eyebrows at him, an ‘i told you so!’ smile on your face. he just rolled his eyes at you. “are they? i’ll have to call them. that’s a job for tomorrow y/n, though. i am so fucking tired.”

“i’d be tired too if i acted like a menace everyday,” sunoo replied. you shot him a look. “i do not act like a menace!”

“this is your second job in like three months… who are you? trish from austin and ally?” you gasped, putting a hand to your chest in somewhat fake shock. at least trish got a new job easily. it took you forever to find that pizza place job, and even longer for you to actually start working. you very nearly actually almost did get evicted if sunoo hadn’t stepped in and helped you.

“goodbye! i love you!” you said and leaned on the counter towards the counter. sunoo gave the camera a kiss and you jumped away in mock disgust. “bye, i love you!”

you ended your call and sat down to eat the ramen you made. sighing, you shoveled the noodles into your mouth. you really hoped that you got hired at this bakery. you didn’t know what you were gonna do if you don’t.

the next day you were up bright and early in the morning ready to call the bakery. you scoured google to see what the number was and after a couple misdirects you finally found it. your hands shook slightly as you pressed the phone to your ear and listened to the rings.

“hello, nap of a star bakery! if you are calling for a custom pie, orders will be pushed until next week!” a deep voice said over the line. your eyebrows raised slightly in shock and you hesitated for a moment as you thought of your next words.

“hello! i was actually calling to ask if you were hiring,” you replied. there was slight shuffling on the phone. “hello! yes, we are! have you picked up an application from the bakery? i can also email you a pdf version of it if you choose.”

you thought for a moment. it couldn’t hurt to go down and actually check the place out before deciding to work there. you did not need another repeat of the arcade job again.

“that’s okay! i can come down to the bakery for it!” the voice gave you an, “okay, have a good day!” and you hung up the phone after repeating them. you got your things together and left your apartment.

it took you a good minute to find the bakery. sunoo even had to text you directions. you recalled that the bakery was new and local. it was tucked away in between two buildings on the corner of the street. you parked your car and stepped your way towards the door.

the bell above the door rang as you pushed it open and stepped inside. behind the counter, a very tall dark-haired guy stood covered in flour rolling dough in a bowl. his head snapped up at the sound and a friendly smile plastered on his face. he pulled the gloves off and sat them next to the bowl. then he came up to where the cash register and a monitor were.

“hello! how may i help you?” he asked, rolling up his falling sleeves.

you took a look around the establishment. it was actually very nice. behind him, a chalkboard of everything their selling was written in an array of different colors. different baked goods were on display under the counter where the guy stood. there was also a door behind him to the back. natural light filtered in from the big windows at the front of the shop, highlighting the light minty colored walls and hanging stars. wooden tables and chairs with quilted seat covers tied to them were scattered around the open space. the overhead lighting was subtle and not harsh like so many other bakeries were. all in all, the bakery was very cozy.

“hi,” you smiled, “i called here not too long ago. about the applications?” his face lit up in realization and his mouth formed an ‘o’ shape. he started to move around the counter.

“ah, yes! the applications! i can get you a pen if you want to fill it out here?” he asked as he grabbed the application from one of the tables near the door and turned to hand it to you. “assuming you brought your resume…” he then trailed off, a shy smile on his lips.

thankfully you did bring your resume. you took the application from him. “i did, actually, thank you!” he nodded slightly to himself and he walked back over to the counter and grabbed a pen from a cup next to the keyboard. he handed that to you as well. “here you go!”

you sat at one of the tables a little ways away from the counter. customers began filing in for orders as you filled the application out. all the motion was distracting you and you couldn’t help watching the dark-haired guy work.

he seemed to move fluidly from taking an order, pressing it all into the monitor, and either retrieving it from the back or display. you didn’t even realize he was also making more things while taking and completing orders until you saw him furiously trying to get the flour off himself when there were no customers around. you giggle lowly to yourself and finally finished filling the application out.

his back was turned to you as you walked up to the counter. he was still trying to get the flour off of him but was spreading it all over his clothes and apron instead. “uh, i finished the application,” you said softly. he jumped and quickly turned to you, an embarrassed smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

you stacked your resume with the application and handed it to him with the pen on top. he took it from you and sat it next to the keyboard.

you got the chance to get a look at his name tag attached to his brown and mint apron. the pretty signature with a shooting star next to it told you that his name was soobin. you got a good look at his face. he was quite pretty, even covered in flour.

he laid his hands flat on the counter and leaned towards you slightly. “okay, so your application will get registered and we should be with you within the week!” he told you, giving you another friendly smile. you returned it. “thank you!”

“have a good day!” you shot his words back to him and left the bakery, making your way to your car.

it was torture waiting for the email to know if you got the job or not. you were sitting in the chair behind the counter at chaconne, the flower shop that sunoo worked at, eyes glued to your phone as you kept refreshing your inbox.

“refreshing your inbox every five seconds isn’t going to make the email appear faster.” sunoo said as he arranged different flowers into a bouquet.

you sighed and slouched in the chair. you guess he was right. it’s only been a couple of days and it seemed like soobin was the only employee.

after sunoo wrapped the flowers and tied it off, he turned to you. today was a slow day in the shop, hence why you were behind the counter. not that sunoo’s boss minded, mrs. jeon loves you.

“so… anyone cute working at the bakery?” he asked, smirking. you looked up from your phone and chuckled. “there’s only one employee, at least i think. he was cute, in fact!” you replied. sunoo’s face lit up.

you tilted your head at him, you knew that look. that was his matchmaking look. “absolutely not,” you quickly said before he could open his mouth. “i need to keep this job if i do get it.” he brought his shoulders up.

“it’s gonna happen anyways. what else are the both of you to do in there together except get to know each other?” he brought his shoulders down and then leaned towards you, eyes wide. “what’s his personality like, tell me! he’s a baker right? duh, of course he is. i bet he’s a softie.” sunoo started rambling, mainly to himself.

you held your hands up. “woah, i met him for a total of like twenty minutes. i don’t have that information.” sunoo sighed and turned back around as customers entered.

you kept refreshing your phone, making small talk with sunoo as he made more bouquets. suddenly, you heard a ‘ping!’ sound and your eyes snapped to your phone to see the notification. “oh my god! it’s from the bakery!” you exclaimed. sunoo came over to you and leaned down next to you to see your phone. “well open it!”

you did just that and almost screamed from excitement had it not been for sunoo covering your mouth and looking around the shop at the lingering customers. “i’m not gonna get evicted!” you exclaimed and sunoo laughed as he rang up another customer.

it was your first day of working at nap of a star bakery and you were standing next to soobin and the owner of the bakery as your training started. it turns out that soobin was the son of the owner, and so far it was just the two of them at the shop. well, now the three of you.

“i’m so thankful you put in an application, y/n dear. it’s been difficult running the bakery with just my boy. your extra hands are very welcome!” mrs. choi told you, smiling warmly. you noticed the light blush across soobin’s cheeks as he rubbed his hand over his face. you smiled warmly at mrs. choi, “i’m very thankful you decided to hire me!”

she put you and soobin to work in the back room, starting on the goods, as she dealt with the customers up front. soobin began showing you how to make the dough for snickerdoodles. you stood side by side in your matching aprons and gloves.

“you want to make sure that you add enough flour so the consistency isn’t super sticky.” soobin said as he showed you the amount of flour to put into it. you let out a brief laugh.

“this isn’t my first time baking, i got this.” you gave him a confident smile. he raised his eyebrows.

“okay then… all you!” he took a step back from the bowl and you took one towards it.

you made snickerdoodles before. at least, you think you did. they were a pretty popular cookie to make, surely you’ve made them at least once in your life before. you cracked the eggs soobin had put out into the bowl. soobin had already added the butter, so it was up to you to figure out the rest of the ingredients.

thinking of what usually goes into cookies, you started reaching for different things. you eyeballed the amount you put in.

“oh! that’s not— you should really measure the ingredients!” soobin suddenly exclaimed. you felt his watchful eyes on you as you worked. you waved a hand behind you. you had this.

once you got all the ingredients in, you dug your gloved hands in and started mixing. there was sputtering from soobin behind you, but you ignored him. the dough was really sticky, so you took soobin’s words from earlier and reached for the flour.

the flour suddenly quickly poured out from the bag, way too much of it falling into the bowl. “oops!” you muttered, setting the bag back down, getting sticky dough everywhere. you dug your hands in again and started mixing until the dough was firm. you picked some up and rolled it into a small ball, then dipped the outside of the ball into the sugar and cinnamon mixture soobin has already set out.

you continued the process a few more times, struggling with the crumbling dough, until you filled the pan. you peeled off your gloves and picked the pan up, walking over to where the stoves were, a dumbfounded soobin trailing behind you.

mrs. choi popped her head in from the door and asked you both how it was going. you both turned. “it’s going great!” you beamed, pan still in hand. she gave you both a satisfied smile and went back to the front.

you put the pan of cookies in the oven. setting it to 415° you thought aloud at the amount of minutes you should set the timer for. “i think ten minutes should be good. or maybe fifteen? i’ll do fifteen just to be sure!”

once that was all settled, you dusted off your apron and turned to soobin, who was staring at you with wide eyes and mouth agape. “see, i told you. i got this! so what’s next?” your question must’ve snapped him out of his daze.

“oh— uh… you know— let’s just wait until the cookies are done. then we’ll continue.” he stuttered. you shrugged, stepping away from the stoves to get new gloves.

the timer dinged and you grabbed an oven mitt to take the pan of cookies out of the oven. you sat the pan on the cooling rack as you turned the oven off. soobin came near you and leaned over the freshly baked cookies, inspecting them. they were a pretty deep golden brown.

he grabbed the nearby metal spatula and went to lift one of the cookies to look under it. the cookie completely crumbled as he did. the inside was burnt. your mouth dropped in shock.

soobin looked over to you, his hand with the spatula still hanging in the air. he straightened, “so… let me show you how to actually make snickerdoodles. so that they don’t turn out like… this.” he motioned with the spatula to your failed cookies.

you nodded and couldn’t help but laugh. soobin hesitated before joining in with you. “this was a disaster, i’m sorry.” you said, covering your mouth. soobin took another look at the cookies before throwing them away in the nearby trash can. he looked back to you, “are you sure you’ve baked before?”

an embarrassed smile spread on your face. “no, not really. i mean i’ve made those cookies from the packages where you just have to add water…” soobin gave you a bemused look. he shook his head slightly and motioned you over to where the ingredients were.

standing next to him, he began guiding you on how to actually make snickerdoodles, you following his instructions. when you were about to do something wrong, like stick your gloved hands in the bowl to mix the dough again, he would stop you and tell you how to actually do it. “instead of mixing it with your hands, you want to take this—“ he held up a straight spatula “—and fold the dough instead.” soobin demonstrated for you as he spoke.

you nodded, following along. soobin stopped his motions and handed you the spatula. you took it from him and picked up from where he left off, folding the dough. once everything was mixed, soobin softly clapped. you laughed in amusement.

he pointed to the dough, “see how it’s not super sticky and not as firm and crumbly as yours was? that’s the consistency you want. this is the consistency that you’ll mainly be working towards when baking anything.” he picked up a small amount of dough and began rolling it between his hands. you copied his actions, and then rolled the ball into the sugar and cinnamon mixture.

after filling the pan, once again, soobin took the pan over to the oven and placed it inside. he turned to you, a reassuring smile on his face. “you don’t want to put it on too high or keep the cookies in for too long.” he put the oven on 350° and set the timer for 8 minutes.

“if you feel like maybe they’ve been in for too long, then you can go ahead and check them. i usually use a toothpick and the spatula to check the consistency and to make sure the bottom isn’t burnt.” soobin said. he did just that and backed away, his mouth forming a satisfied grin. nodding, you took in all the information he had just taught you.

that’s how the rest of your shift went. soobin walking you through how to make various baked goods. once you felt like you could start working on your own, soobin would move on to work on something else. here and there he would give you his input, and you’d apply it to whatever you were making. you and soobin made small talk as you worked, getting to know each other until it was time for you to start cleaning up.

you were absolutely covered in flour and dried dough. thankfully, once you and soobin we’re done with one baked good, you would clean whatever you used and the area before starting the next thing. so it wasn’t as messy as you were initially expecting the end of the day to be. you stripped your gloves off and threw them into the trash, soobin doing the same.

the two of you stood at the sink, him washing the dishes and you drying and putting them away. “i have an idea,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you. soobin looked over to you, shaking his head a little to get their hair out of his eyes. he raised an eyebrow in question. “tomorrow we should see who can make the most stuff. like a competition! we can compete and whoever makes the most goods at the end of the week can win a prize or something! i don’t know, we can workshop the idea.” you exclaimed, you gave him a big hopeful smile as you rinsed and dried the dish he handed you.

“compete?” he asked. you nodded. he hummed as he thought. “okay! how are we gonna tally up points?” you put the whisk back in the drawer as you thought.

“each baked good can be a certain amount of points! like cakes and pies are three, pastries and cupcakes are two, and cookies and whatever else are one?” you looked at him, head tilted. “we can keep track on the chalkboard!” you then pointed over to the chalkboard next to where the door to the front of the bakery was. right now, it had a half erased list of what the two of you needed to make on it.

“okay!” soobin smiled. “let’s do it!” you squealed a little and ran over to the chalkboard, erasing the list on it. “hey! you’re suppose to be helping me wash dishes!” soobin laughed. you ignored him as you wrote.

on the chalkboard you wrote soobin and y/n in capital letters, drawing a line between your names and under them so it formed a table. “today doesn’t count since i was learning.” you spoke, placing the piece of chalk back on the little rack and turning to him. he looked back at you as he washed the dishes, grinning. you returned to his side and rinsed the dishes that he piled up.

“it’s on!” you said and glanced over to him. he laughed and shook his head. “in your wildest dreams.”

sunday rolled around quite fast and the bake off competition between you and soobin was at an all time high. currently, soobin was winning with a total of sixty-seven points. you were close behind him with sixty-six points. you were rushing to finish the cookies you were making for another point. the timer on the oven sounded off and you jumped in excitement, pulling out the freshly baked perfect cookies.

“another point for me!” you exclaimed, walking over to the chalkboard and adding a tally under your name. you turned to soobin with a wide grin. “now we’re tied!”

“because you keep cheating! all you’ve been doing the whole day is making cookies!” soobin spoke as he frosted a cake order meant for a birthday. on the top, the cake read “happy birthday honey!” with yellow and orange swirls and hearts. your grin widen and you gave a smug shrug. “step your cookies up before you crumble!”

soobin playfully scoffed at you and went back to adding intricate tubing to the cake. you leaned over it, watching him work. “i would be ahead of you right now if you didn’t take all the cakes and pies.” you mumbled, loud enough for him to hear. he chuckled at you, staring over at you for a brief second.

“i’ll let you have the next one,” soobin said softly. he added the last bit of tubing on the cake before the door to the front opened. mrs. choi came in with a small piece of paper in hand. you and soobin turned towards her in unison.

“another order for one of our famous blueberry pies!” mrs. choi exclaimed as she wiggled the paper. she pinned it on the cork board next to the chalkboard with your scores and went back up to the front.

you and soobin looked back to each other, frozen. you saw the gears in his brain turning as you stared into his eyes. in the short week you’ve gotten to know him and the competition you’ve both started, you learned to read the look in his eyes when he’s up to something. narrowing your eyes slightly, you shifted your body ever so subtly to the cork board just in case you needed to make a break for it. a slight smile tugged at the corners of soobin’s mouth.

“it’s all you,” he said lowly. your eyes narrowed further and cautiously you took a step, eyes locked on him. taking another, and another until you reached the cork board, you let your eyes slip from him and his wide smile. the bag of frosting still in his hand.

snatching the piece of paper, your eyes scoured over it hungrily, taking in all of the information. a mischievous smile spread across your lips as you read further and saw that the order also called for four blueberry and lemon puffed pastries. you were so winning this battle.

you felt a breath on your neck and turned to see soobin looming over you. you quickly pressed the paper to your chest and faced him, a gasp escaping your lips.

“cheater! you said you were gonna give me this one!” an amused smile took over your mischievous one. soobin held a cake box, cake inside, in his arms. he lifted his shoulders, a laugh shaking them.

“you were taking too long for it to be a simple blueberry pie.” soobin set the cake box on the table by the door to the front. he then put a finger to his lips and tapped it cartoonishly, eyes looking up to the ceiling as he hummed. “and did i say i was going to give you this one?” you nodded quickly.

“i lied,” soobin said. he then dashed to the table where the ingredients were. you dashed after him, trying to start the pie before he did.

the two of you moved frantically around the large kitchen, running into each other and stumbling over things sitting on the floor. you quickly whisked together cornstarch and sugar as you ran to the fridge. pushing soobin out the way with your hip and spilling a little bit of the mixture over you, you retrieved the fresh blueberries with your free hand and ran over to the stove.

soobin already had a saucepan on the stove ready with the heat on. water and lemon juice already inside. you tipped the cornstarch and sugar mixture inside as well, half of it landing on the stove top rather than in the pan. you grabbed the spoon next to the stove and began furiously mixing before you felt hands around your hips. soobin pulled you away from the stove and to the side as he snatched the spoon from your hands and started mixing himself.

a giggle escaped your lips as you turned back to the ingredients table and finished the dough he started. it was already done since it had been refrigerated yesterday. you grabbed the rolling pin and flattened the dough out, making sure to flour the surfaces so the dough doesn’t stick. saving enough of the dough for the lattice of the pie, you pressed the remaining dough into a pie plate that you quickly grabbed. you then trimmed and fluted the edges.

you ran to get a circular knife. soobin must’ve finally noticed that you weren’t hovering around him and turned to see what you were doing, a confident smile on his lips. the smile dropped when he saw that you already had the base of the pie ready. soobin dropped the spoon on the counter next to the stove and dashed to where you were cutting strips into dough.

soobin tried to push you out the way with his hip but you dug your feet into ground and pushed him back. you started cutting the dough faster, the strips coming out sloppy and uneven. majority of them weren’t even the same length.

“accept defeat!” you laughed as you moved soobin’s prying hands away from the dough. the kitchen was filled with laughs and soobin poked a finger into your side, making you jump. “not when i’m so close to glory!”

“let me have this like you said you would!” you exclaimed. you were coming up on the last strips that you needed for the pie. it was hard to cut the dough when soobin kept grabbing at it. giggling, you pressed the circular knife back into the dough moving hurriedly when you got another shove from soobin’s hip.

the circular knife suddenly nicked your finger and you jumped back, dropping the knife, as blood began flowing from the wound. you both freeze and suddenly soobin is grabbing your hand with the bloody finger.

unconsciously, soobin puts your bloody finger in his mouth. all movements freeze as you stare at each other with wide eyes. not even breathing could be heard. the two of you are covered in various different ingredients and the kitchen around you is a mess.

soobin slowly takes your finger out of his mouth, his eyes widening by the second. your heart starts to beat rapidly at the exchange. heat warms up your face in full force and you can see the redness creep up from the back of soobin’s neck.

“oh my god…” soobin finally says. he’s still holding your hand, but, thanks to him the blood is no longer flowing. “oh my god! i’m so sorry, y/n! that was a force of habit.” soobin repeats. you let out an anxious giggle.

“you usually put people’s bloody fingers in your mouth?” you ask teasingly. his cheeks are a deep pink and you giggle at the sight. your heart seems to be beating faster and faster with each passing moment. soobin breaks away from your gaze with great effort, embarrassment written clearly all over his features. the tension between you is high and you start to sweat in your loose clothes and apron.

“i’m so so sorry, i really did not mean to do that,” soobin says lowly. you break into a fit of giggles, amused by the whole thing. slowly, soobin joins you with hesitant chuckles. soon you’re both doubled over, stomachs hurting from laughing so hard.

you’re holding onto the table for support when soobin speaks again. “maybe… we should take a breather…” he trails and you nod in agreement, holding your stomach slightly. soobin takes your hand softly and leads you to the sink where the first aid is. he motions for you to wash your hands. as you wash them, he pulls out a bandaid and begins opening it. once your hands are dry, he gently takes them and wraps the bandaid around the shallow wound on your finger.

soobin smiles shyly at you, his hands still holding yours. “y’know what… you can have the pie.” the blush on his cheeks has spread to his whole face as he spoke. you giggle and nod, “yeah, i would like that.” soobin’s face lights up in sudden realization.

“oh my god! the pie!” he turns to the stove, letting go of your hands, as he runs over to it. he takes the saucepan with the blueberry filling off the heated burner and puts it on one of the ones that’s turned off. you jog over to him, you both inspect the filling as he takes the spoon and mixes it. it was a little thicker than you both intended, but it was fine. you look at each other and start laughing.

“here, you finish the pie, and i’ll start cleaning up. we both look like a mess.” soobin hands you the spoon with a grin and you take it. he tried wiping some of the flour off of him to no avail as he walked over to the ingredients table.

by the time the blueberry filling has cooled, soobin has cleaned the majority of the kitchen. you bring the pan with the filling over to the pie plate and pour it inside the crust, saving the remaining for the pastries. soobin had already gotten the pastries ready for you, so you used the remaining filling for them.

the lattice for the top of the pie came out shotty at best, but it wouldn’t matter once it baked. you put both the pie and the pastries into their own oven and set them to cook. you turned to soobin to see he was about to start washing the dishes.

“i’ll wash them,” you said. he’s basically cleaned the whole kitchen, it was the least you can do. you washed and dried the dishes, putting them back in their respective places. you leaned back onto the counter near the ovens next to soobin.

soobin had updated the chalkboard, adding his three points for the cake he made and your seven points for the pie and pastries. he bumped your shoulder with his. “you won,” he said softly. soobin then grinned and added, “this week.” you chuckled at him, turning to him slightly.

“so what’s my prize?” you asked. the two of you hadn’t actually come up with what the prize would be. you’ve both been too focused on making the baked goods to actually win. soobin’s eyes wided a fraction, blush once again reddening his cheeks slightly. “what do you want?”

you faced forward again as you thought about it. “i don’t know… what are you willing to give me?” soobin’s blush deepens, but you aren’t facing him to notice. after a moment with no answer, you looked over to him, awaiting an answer. his head is angled down and it’s subtly tilted away from you.

soobin let’s out a cough and wipes his face before looking back up at you. “uh— what— um… how about i bake you anything of your choosing?” he sputters. you smile at him, “anything? even if it’s difficult?” soobin playfully scoffed and waved a hand in the air before crossing his arms over his chest.

“nothing is too difficult for me! it can be anything! cake, pie, pastry, cookie, bread, whatever. puffed, filled, turnovers, upside down, layered, anything. whatever you choose!” you thought for a moment, then smiled warmly at him. “what about blueberry bread?” you asked. “but, like really fancy… in honor of my first win and for many to come!”

he laughed at the smirk on your face. “done! when do you want it?” you shrugged at him, “whenever you have the time.” he nodded, more to himself than to you.

you were excited to see how soobin made the blueberry bread. you giggled at the thought of him giving you a fancy set up for something as simple as bread. nodding back to him anyway, the two of you made your way to the front of the bakery to end your shift.

sunoo had an eyebrow raised as you recalled the previous day’s events. he was half listening to your rambling and half paying attention to the customer he was checking out.

“and then,” you said, literally sitting on the edge of your seat, “he put my finger in his mouth!” sunoo whipped around to face you, eyes wide. the customer, who was starting to walk away, froze in their spot, also staring widely at you. “i know,” you nodded.

“he didn’t mean to… he said it was a force of habit, but still. like what? my heart was beating so fast, sunoo, you don’t even understand!” you continued. the customer gave you a wide playful smile and a thumbs up before exiting the shop. sunoo gasped as he took your hands.

sunoo looked at the fresh bandaid on your finger intensely. he then leaned back and looked at you, a knowing smirk on his lips. “what did i say, y/n! what did i say!” he teased. “and what happened after that? you started taking off each other’s clothes?” your face heated.

“no! we went back to baking!” you smacked his arm. sunoo sighed loudly. “lame! you should’ve told him to fill something else.” he gave you a wink as another customer came in.

you covered your flushed face with your hands. “sunoo!” you harshly whispered. he just laughed at you.

when you went into the bakery for your shift that day, you were surprised to see that soobin had already prepared your prize. in the back, the ingredients table was decorated with a flowery tablecloth. there was a pretty lace doily under where the plate of blueberry bread sat. candles were lit and there was a small note that read: for the talented y/n y/l/n in a bold cursive font.

soobin then came up to you, he was dressed very nicely with a button up shirt tucked into black slacks. there was a matching black tie tied around his neck. he held a metal plate with a tea towel and wrapped silverware on it in one hand, the other arm pressed behind his back.

“for you, my dear.” he held the metal plate towards you in a bow. you let out a small laugh at the whole scene as you took the contents from the plate. heart skipping a beat. just then did you realize that soobin had drawn a cartoonish mustache on his upper lip. loud belly laughs erupted from you and you leaned against the table for support. “the mustache?” you managed to breathe out, it being followed by another fit of laughter.

soobin joined you, relaxing his stiff stance. he sat the metal plate on the table. “you said make it fancy! i made it fancy!” you giggled and nodded, “you sure did!” he motioned towards the blueberry bread with a white gloved hand. you had to stifle your laugh at it.

“well? go on and try it!” you smiled at him and grabbed the knife from the wrapped silverware he had given you. you cut a slice of blueberry bread off the loaf and sat it on the awaiting plate next to it. grabbing your fork, you waved it in the air with a giggle and then used it to grab a piece of the bread. you ate the piece and thought for a moment as you swallowed it.

“wow!” you said as you grabbed another piece, “this is delicious!” soobin smirked smugly and raised his hands. “what can i say? i’m actually gordon ramsey.” you choked a little on the bread as you erupted into laughter. “sure…” you trailed playfully.

it’s been a little over a month since you’ve started working at nap of a star bakery, and it has been the best job you’ve ever had thus far. the little competition between you and soobin had turned from small battles to a full blown war. the two of you were baking so much to garner extra points that the bakery had a bunch of overstock and mrs. choi had to tell you both to slow down.

in that time, you and soobin have grown closer than ever. “i’m starting to feel replaced,” sunoo had said to you the other day, after telling him how soobin cheated to win that week. the competition had gotten so serious between the two of you that you were now competing to see who was the better baker. you even brought sunoo to the bakery a couple of times to be the judge.

you and soobin were once again frantically running around the kitchen, this time fighting over who gets to bake the wedding cake a customer ordered. you held a large plastic tray in your hands, running over to the ingredients table when your foot caught on a bag of flour and you and the plastic tray suddenly went flying. hands quickly caught your waist and steadied you before any real damage could happen. the tray made a loud noise as it landed on the ground, startling you more.

you breathed heavily in shock as you turned to look at soobin, your eyes wide. “woah,” you said. you both broke out into laughter. “jesus, y/n, you almost just saw the light.” soobin’s hands were still on your waist as you turned to face him fully. “thankfully you were here!”

soobin removed his hands and your waist felt cold without them. “maybe we should just work together on this one…” he trailed as he looked around the mess of the kitchen. “i mean, this is someone’s wedding cake after all.” you nodded in agreement, chuckling a little. he smiled warmly at you.

reaching up to his face, you giggled, “you have flour on your nose.” you purposely wiped flour on him and he scrunched his nose a little, a small grin on his lips. soobin takes his flour covered hands and wipes them across your cheeks. “you have flour on your cheeks,” he says. you raise your eyebrows as you look at him.

the two of you are laughing softly as you stare at each other. you dip your hands into the flour sitting on the table and cup both of soobin’s cheeks with your hands. this is a side game you and soobin have started recently, going up to each other with flour and saying that the other has flour on them. it makes even more of a mess, and mrs. choi is always surprised to see you when you go back to the front of the bakery, but it’s fun.

you’ve been secretly drawing hearts with flour on him and giggling at his confused stare when you wouldn’t tell him what you drew. it was always in a place he couldn’t see or reach.

“can you guess what i’m about to say?” you ask him. you feel his cheeks lift into a smile and see his dimples pop out. he starts laughing, “you have flour on your cheeks?” giggling at him, you squeeze his face a little.

“you have flour on your cheeks.”

you’re mere inches away from each other. somehow, soobin’s hands have found their way back to your waist and you’re both giggling as you stare into each other’s eyes. once the giggles subside and nothing but smiles are left, you notice an emotion you can’t figure out swirl in soobin’s eyes.

your heart is beating rapidly in your chest as you realize your sudden closeness and you watch as soobin’s eyes briefly flicker down to your lips. inhaling, you decide to just go for it and act on your emotions. you bring your lips to soobin’s, pressing them together softly. his hands tighten slightly at your waist as he kisses you back.

the kiss is slow and intimate. for a while now you’ve been crushing on him, ever since the day he made you that blueberry bread as a prize. sunoo has teased you mercilessly about it, calling himself cupid even though he had no hand in your blossoming feelings. the times when you brought him to the bakery to judge, he would drop not so subtle hints about your crush. you had to always give him a harsh glare over soobin’s shoulder.

your arms wrapped around soobin’s neck, pulling him closer to you as the kiss deepened. your bodies were pressed up against each other. pulling away from the kiss slightly, you tried to breathe. your breath lightly fanned his cheek, lifting some of the flour off of it. soobin leaned towards you and kissed you passionately, his arms wrapping tighter around your waist.

when you broke apart, you both were breathing heavily, lips plumped at the sudden exchange. you smiled a little, “i’ve been waiting for you to do that.” soobin chuckled. “i’m sorry i didn’t do it sooner.” you both leaned in for another kiss but jumped apart when you heard the door to the front open.

mrs. choi took one good look at the two of you and shook her head in amusement. “how the two of you always manage to get covered in so much flour always amuses me!” she held up two small pieces of paper. “more orders! business is booming!” she laughed and the two of you awkwardly joined her. once she left, you and soobin looked at each other and started to laugh. you were absolutely covered in flour, mrs. choi was right. soobin nodded his head over to the abandoned dough you had started and the two of you began working on the wedding cake again. this time, together.

it was after hours at the bakery and you and soobin had your friends sitting at one of the tables at the front of the bakery so they could be the judges of who’s baked goods were better. you had met each other’s friends a couple times now through various judging events, so when you asked them to judge the final round to put it all to rest, they accepted.

today, you were going to find out just how much of a better baker you are than soobin. and you are gonna laugh in his face when everyone says how good your baked goods are. currently, you and soobin were in the back preparing your dishes. you had decided on a french profiterole cake while soobin had decided on a gâteau basque cake. you knew your cake was delicious, you had been practicing ever since you and soobin decided that you should have one last round to see who the greatest baker was.

soobin held a small plate out with a small slice of the cake he had made for the challenge out to you. you raised your eyebrows in shock and smiled up to him. “you trying to boost your ego before the judgment?” you asked as you took the fork from him and took a bite of the cake. your eyes widen at the flavor. “this is amazing, soobin! oh my god!” maybe you weren’t gonna win this after all…

soobin smiled warmly at you as he held up a small, rolled up piece of paper. you sat the plate down on the nearby table and took it from him, unrolling it. “be mine?” he asked, right as your eyes trailed over the same words on the paper. a smile broke out on your face and you stared up at him. he held another small plate on it, a small cake flower in the center. you giggled as you took the plate from him. “of course i’ll be yours!”

you sat the plate with the flower next to the plate with the slice of cake as you wrapped your arms around soobin’s neck, pulling him down into a kiss. he laughed softly against your lips and pulled you close.

“hello?” you heard a voice drag out from the front of the bakery. “when are we going to get to judge? i didn’t come here hungry for nothing!” you heard muffled voices and then a “shh! shut up beomgyu! what if they’re getting busy? you know how badly he needs that.”

giggling, you pulled away from soobin, giggling harder at his flushed cheeks. you held his hand and looked longingly at him. “you ready?” you asked. soobin nodded, then smirked a little. “you ready to get told you’re the second best baker?”

you rolled your eyes at him playfully, letting go of his hand so that you can grab your cake. the two of you brought your cakes out to the front and your friends erupted into claps. “finally!” soobin’s friend beomgyu had said. his arm got playfully hit by the guy next to him, who you’ve come to know as yeonjun.

“i love you, y/n, but if your cake tastes like shit i’m spitting it out and looking at you with the upmost betrayal. don’t embarrass me here after i’ve been talking you up!” sunoo teased as you and soobin sat your cakes down in front of them. you laughed at him, holding a hand to your chest in mock hurt.

there were already empty plates and silverware placed in front of all of your friends. “alright!” you started. “welcome to the great bake off! yes, the great british bake off was copyrighted… but that’s okay!” laughter sounded around you as you clapped your hands together. you looked over at soobin, “do you wanna go first or do you want me to go first?”

soobin shrugged. “i’ll go first.” he cut slices of his cake and put them each on your friends’ empty plates. “alright, you already know how the judging works. each judge will take a bite from the food and we’ll go down a line one by one for statements. dig in!” soobin spoke. your friends did just that, murmurs of how good the cake was coming from them.

“alright, kai, you’re up!” kai hummed and put a finger to his chin as he thought. “it was absolutely disgusting,” he said as he took another bite. “seriously soobin, what is wrong with you?” kai kept eating the cake as you all laughed.

taehyun nodded in approval, praising soobin for how good of a job he did with the cake. yeonjun stood from the table, did a cartwheel, and sat back down before calmly saying that it was delicious. you and sunoo stared at him with wide eyes as you saw the regret and slight embarrassment form on his heated face. beomgyu hummed, dramatically putting a finger to his lips and tapping as he kept taking more bites. he hummed again.

soobin walked up to him and grabbed him around the collarbones, shaking him slightly as everyone laughed. “it’s really good!” beomgyu said as he sat his fork down, plate empty. yeonjun shook his head at him. sunoo then cleared his throat, sitting up straight. “it was very delicious, but not as good as y/n’s cake!” he said. you laughed, “you haven't even tasted mine yet!” sunoo shot you a glare with wide eyes as he shushed you.

you cut up slices of your cake for the judges, putting one on each of their plates. they barely took a bite of your cake before they all jumped up from their seats and started loudly clapping. dramatically saying how wonderful your cake is and how their taste buds have never graced such perfection. you couldn’t help the laugh that spilled from your mouth at them.

“fantastic! you are truly are the best baker that ever lived!” taehyun exclaimed, clapping hard. “truly, truly. i mean, this cake is godly! higher than that even!” sunoo added as he dramatically took another bite and melted back down into his chair. you shook your head at them.

you looked over to soobin, pouting. he laughed softly at your acceptance of defeat. his cake was absolutely amazing…

soobin came over to you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. you looked at him as he smiled down at you. playfully, you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. soobin placed a kiss on the top of your head, leaning his head against yours as you both watched the dramatic appraisal from both of your friends.

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[macabr3-barbi3]

pretty when you cry- vox/reader

Vox likes seeing one of Velvette's new workers cry and pushes it as far as he can. 

I suck at writing endings once the fucking is done but here's a little break from my Alastor stuff to write something for the TV demon who also owns my heart <3

Tags: Reader-Insert, Vaginal Sex, Desk Sex, Begging, Crying, manipulation?, Sexual Tension, Explicit Sexual Content, Obsessive Behavior, possessive Vox, Excessive use of italics <3

Vox had his eyes on you.

The newest little demon on Velvette’s team, there was something about you that had him keeping a camera or a sensor on you at all times within Vee Tower.

You were a sight to behold working for her. The Vee respected you in a way that he didn’t see often, delegating you to control of models and stage management roles. And you took to those roles well, commanding respect and authority like second nature. He watched you watch him for a while, eyeing him up from across Vel’s studio. He saw the way your eyes followed the line of his legs when he strolled into the room, how you swallowed a little harder when he rolled his shirt sleeves up and showed off his forearms. He was used to that though, Velvette’s little flunkies wanting to be a Vee groupie. It wasn’t until she sent you to him by yourself for approval on something that he got to see what you were hiding underneath.

He expected you to be the way you were in the studio- demanding voice and loud tone, shoulders squared and undressing him with your eyes while he remained disinterested. What he got instead was even better.

All trembling lips and quivering skin, you were just begging him to hurt you when you slid into his office, gave him the proposal and tried to dart away. It was baffling. He sent some electricity to the doors to slam them shut before you could escape, relishing in the way that you jumped and your eyes flicked back to him. This was exhilarating- how could a demon so at ease taking control be reduced to this ball of nerves? It had to be the lack of Vel’s presence. Maybe you knew he wouldn’t do anything while Velvette was around- she always bitched about him messing with her models and assistants, and the occasional killing or dismemberment of one was a surefire way to end up needing a screen replacement when she fucking threw something at him. But with just the two of you the possibilities were endless. It wasn’t even sexual to begin with, he just fucking loved the idea of breaking down that facade of control. Making you fear him.

It was nothing personal- Velvette had sent you with a shitty proposal and he loved to yell, and sometimes a solitary scolding was like nothing else, especially when it was someone new, someone exciting and fresh. So he took it out on you, and as he was yelling and noticed your big, bright eyes welling with tears?

He couldn’t have gotten a better high from crack.

Vox made it his personal mission to bring you to the precipice of tears whenever possible. Never in front of the team- he wasn’t an asshole, he wouldn’t make you look incompetent in front of Velvette or the people you managed- but he did let slip to Velvette that he was more likely to approve her proposals if she sent her cute little assistant his way.

He got to see you almost every day then. Velvette always had something she needed him to sign or look over, and despite the couple of times he heard you simply begging to send someone else you always ended up right back at his door.

Standing in front of his desk with your head down and your eyes lowered.

Your hands clenched at your sides as you tried to avoid eye contact, tried to keep him from seeing what he so desperately was working for.

It was enough for a while. Months of hounding you and making that porcelain exterior of yours crack just enough to let a few tears slip out when you were sent to see him. Of the change in seeing you go from fucking him with your eyes to how you still checked him out but tensed up when he came into the room for something from Velvette, fearful that he would say something, destroy this image of yourself that you’ve cultivated so carefully to display for the people you work with.

Like the limits of technology it evolved. He found himself wanting more as he watched playback recordings of you begging Velvette to send someone else in your place. His mind spliced the videos together with his own recordings of you, eyes full of tears in his office.

The result was delicious. Red rimmed eyes that sparkled with tears as you looked up at him and said, “please, V̵̡͔͔͔̭̾̀̂̑͞o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞x͕͕͚͍̿̆͂͞, ” and the only thing that kept him from blowing a fuse and throwing the city into a blackout was the fact that the audio was fucked because he had nothing to input. You never said his name- it was only ever ‘sir’ in his office, or ‘him’ when speaking with Velvette.

He wanted it desperately. Wanted you to beg him with those pretty eyes, that full mouth in a pout as he denied you just to make you plead more. To make you say his name as tears ran down your cheeks and made him short circuit from dripping into his screen ports while he railed up into you from below and made you cry from the pained pleasure-

It wasn’t citywide, but Vee tower blinked offline for a few minutes.

He booted everything back up from his control room, the spliced video of you back on the screen as the door burst open and Velvette strode in to bitch about her socials going down. She looked at the image of you on the screen, eyes wide and wet while you said Vox’s name on a loop- she looked to the demon himself and seemed to wrestle with something internally for a moment.

“If she fuckin’ quits because of you,” she warns, “I’m gonna mount your goddamn head on my wall to watch the replacement interviews, you selfish, sadistic prick!” She stormed back out of the room, muttering something about how Vox was no better than Valentino but hey- that felt like he had permission in his book!

He texts Velvette a few days later and asks her to send you to his office at the end of the day. Naturally, she replies with an eye roll and middle finger emoji, but when 3PM comes around there’s a tentative knock at his door.

He waves a hand to open it, trying his best to look bored despite the excitement racing through his hardware. He slams it behind you, relishes in the way that you flinch and your lip trembles. You approach his desk, hands clenched to your sides like always. “Miss Velvette said you wanted to see me, sir?”

He leans back in his chair, kicks his feet up onto the desk and watches the way your eyes travel the length of them. “I sure did, doll! And you can drop that ‘sir’ shit with me; Vox is just fine.” He throws you a grin which catches you off guard- your eyes go wide and you startle, almost taking a step back and fuuuuck if he doesn’t want to just call his whole plan off and just jump you where you stand.

But Vox could be patient. He wanted to have you where he wanted you first, which was red faced and slack jawed and teary with ecstasy and need.

He beckons you closer with a claw and you obey- a lamb to the slaughter. “Vel tells me that I’ve been a little hard on you,” he says, all syrupy sweet and earnest. “Says that you’ve been asking her to send someone else up for her errands and proposals.” He lets his screen drop into a frown. “I’m hurt, sweetie. Did I do something wrong?”

He can see it in your eyes, the internal conflict. Deny deny deny- or be honest. He could work with either one.

“I- I mean, you’re kind of… mean to me, sir.”

Bingo. Honesty it was. He lets his feet drop down from the desk to stand and lean forward, far enough that he can get a grip on your chin. “Darling, you’ve not seen ‘mean’ from me,” he chuckles. “You think a little yelling is mean? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

You’re fighting the urge to pull away from him, and he can see it then- the shine of moisture along your lash line. It’s so much better up close than it is from across the desk, and he resists the desire to flick his tongue to your eyes and let his mouth crackle and pop at the taste of you. You aren’t talking though, adopting the same manner you get when he yells at you, all quiet and downturned, and that just won’t do.

“I asked you a question,” he says, and tightens his hold on you ever so slightly. You grimace and a drop leaks from your clenched eyes- his cock pulses at the sight. “I said, do you know who you’re talking to?”

“Yes, sir,” you stammer out, and it turns to a yelp as he lets a jolt of electricity bolt through his fingertips.

“V̵̡͔͔͔̭̾̀̂̑͞o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞x͕͕͚͍̿̆͂͞,” he corrects, his voice distorted as he tries to reign in his control. He wasn’t prepared for the feel of your skin in his hands, doesn’t think he can draw this out as long as he wanted to. “But it’s okay! Here’s what we’re gonna do, you and me- we’re gonna let it be in the past!” He lets you go and you stumble back a couple steps. He’s quick to follow, coming around the desk and throwing an arm around your shoulders. “How’s that sound, huh? I’ll stop yelling at you when Velvette sends you up here- who wants to take the time to teach someone new the route anyway, right?- and you just have to do this tiny little thing for me in return.” He turns you with his hands on your shoulders so you stand in front of him, wedged between his domineering height and the hard surface of the desk at your back.

He can feel how tense you are under his hands and delights in the way you glance up at him, bottom lip held lightly between your teeth, pupils huge and mesmerizing- almost the picture perfect duplicate of the video that he had spliced together, the reality of it so close he could fucking taste it. “What… what do I have to do?”

He uses the leverage he has to shove you, your elbows flying out to catch yourself on the desk as you’re bent backwards at the waist. As you try to push yourself up and out from under him he drops to his arms, bracketing you between them and keeping you locked in place beneath him. “Beg me,” he growls, his teeth snapping in front of your face, and the way that you’re trembling under his body is making the processors in his head spin. Your eyes are wide and wet and dilated but he can’t tell if it’s the way he wants it yet- it might be in fear, not in pleasure. And sure, fear was fun, you don’t become an Overlord without a taste for it. But he wanted you to want him. He wanted to make you need him badly enough that you would let the pleads fall from your lips like rain from the sky, like the tears he wanted to watch you sob while you asked him pretty please.

“Beg and we’ll let it all slide, dollface, does that sound fair?” Vox lets one of his hands up from the desk, trailing a sharp claw through the lingering wetness from your eyes and down your cheek, brushing across the front of your throat. He hears the catch in your breath and wants to drink the sound down, let it fester in his body until it consumes him. “You give me a couple ‘pleases’ with some tears in those pretty eyes of yours and all is forgiven! You can keep running those errands for Vel, keep yourself in her good graces. And I’ll stop yelling at you- we can be regular old pals when you stop up here for something!”

The tension in your jaw is delectable, as is the way you’re trying to keep your legs pressed together so he can’t slot himself between them like he wants to. He wishes he had olfactory processors so he could smell you, press his screen to your neck and chest and just fucking everywhere, tell from the scent of your body if you were as fucking turned on by this as he was. He’s so caught up in the thought of it, trying to figure out if he could get the necessary equipment installed to make such a thing possible, that he almost misses it.

“P-please,” you whisper, and Vox can’t help the way that his hips stutter hard against the air, not yet pressing into you like he fucking wants to. “Please, sir-”

He parts your legs with a knee, groaning internally at the heat coming from you where he presses against you. “If I have to correct you one more time,” he warns, “you’ll really see what mean looks like coming from me.” He needs you to say it like you did in his edited video. Needs his name dripping from your lips and his cum dripping from your cunt but you have to ask properly first. He rolls his hips, knowing that you can probably feel the hard length of his cock drag against your thigh.

“Vox, please,” you finally say, and when your eyes open he can see the tears gathered at the corners, so sweet and perfect and exactly what he fucking needed. There’s no distortion this time, the words falling freely and unaltered. It’s all he can do to rip himself away from you, allow you to rise off the desk with your chest heaving, drops of wetness sliding down your face with the change in angle as you watch him with wide, confused eyes.

Vox has to clear his throat but when he does, he’s back to the picture of business. “There we go!” He says, letting a little bell ding like a game show winner, fists resting on his hips. He’s cool, casual despite the harsh line of his dick pressing against his zipper. “That wasn’t so hard, huh? And now we’re all set- I’ll see you next time Vel sends you up, doll!” He turns to leave and it’s fucking killing him to act this next part out. If there’s even a chance that you don’t do what he expects you to do, he’s gonna go back to the penthouse of Vee tower and tear his goddamn organs out through his throat-

“Wait!” A hand grips the back of his shirt and he grins, wild and glitching before he schools it and turns back to you with a disinterested glance. “I-” You swallow hard and avoid his eyes, but he can still see the lines where the tears had run.

“You need something, doll?” Your eyes track his body from top to bottom, stopping at the obvious bulge in his pants. He reaches a hand out to tip your chin up to meet his gaze. “Can’t help you if I don’t know what you want.”

There’s bells and whistles going off on his internal soundboard as you step closer to him, fisting your hands in his shirt properly. “I… I want you,” you mumble, and even without the crying its got him rock hard. “I want more. Please, Vox-”

His hands are on your hips and setting you back on his desk before you can finish the thought, shoving your skirt up to your waist and dragging you against him. “F̼̼͓̙ͤ̋̅̚͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔, baby, that’s all you had to say,” he groans at the feeling of your panties, hot and damp against him. He relinquishes a hand from your body to snip through the fabric like paper, wrapping your legs around his waist and grinding against you as hard as he can with his fucking pants still in the way. He’s ready to cut them off himself when you reach a trembling hand down between your bodies and start clawing at his belt.

He feels his legs turn to jello, and he presses his screen to your forehead. “That’s fucking right, doll, need me like I need you,” he hisses, and then his tongue is in your mouth and you’re moaning against him.

(Val had told him once that to kiss him was like an arc flash- that what he lacked in lips he more than made up for with tongue, and that it felt like shoving a fork in a power socket- “but like, in a good way… and with my dick.”

Vox assumed that translated to pussy as well- he’d never had any complaints but he really needed it to be the case here with you.)

You manage to get his belt undone and pulled from the loops of his pants, discarded on the floor as you whimper into his mouth. He rips his fly open and pulls his cock out to press against your slick cunt, delights in the way that you groan against him and try to angle your hips upwards to meet him.

“Slow your roll, baby,” he starts to starts to say as he pulls off your mouth; only to bluescreen, choking on his tongue when you find the angle and get the tip of his dick inside of you with a gasp. “F̼̼͓̙ͤ̋̅̚͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔!”

The heat of you is blinding. He wants to clench his eyes shut with the pure fucking ecstasy of it, just fuck himself into your pliant, willing body and make you scream his name.

“Please, Vox, please, I want-” You dig your fingers into his shirt, try to roll your hips more into him, to spear yourself on him. “Please-”

“Oh, I’m gonna f-fucking g̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟v̹̹̘̼̞̻͆ͩ̓ͪ͢ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟t͖͖̠̬͛ to you, b-baby,” he glitches out, his voice processors overwhelmed like the rest of him. “Whatever you w-w-want, it’s y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞u̴��̣̾̀͟͡ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅ, and you’re fucking-ing m- m̰̰̹͚̙̂ͦ͗͠i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ.”

He brings a hand between your bodies to circle your clit, thrusting the rest of his length into you in one hard shove and you cry out at the feel of it. His eyes flash to your face and he short circuits at the sight that greets him- he’s pretty sure his hard-drive just gives out.

Your mouth hangs open, sharp teeth on display as you pant and gasp his name, your face red and tear-streaked clinging to his shirt.

He shifted his angle a bit and you cried his name, throwing your head back so hard you smacked it off the desk. He didn’t even have time to ask if you were okay before you were clenching around him, coming with a scream that echoed the walls of his office, your body tensed and locked around him like a vice.

It’s beautiful. Magnificent. That video he had spliced was fucking dogshit compared to the reality of having you clenched around his dick and weepy with need. Everything was dogshit compared to it- he could live in this moment for the rest of his afterlife. For the rest of eternity and beyond. Maybe he could find a way to bottle this feeling and make it a substance he could inject into his fucking heart.

You’re still grasping at him, fingers sliding down from his shirt to grasp at his hands where claws are digging into your hips. “Do it,” you’re gasping, “please, Vox, more-”

Vox comes with a grunt inside of you, the force of his thrusts making the desk screech across the floor as your cunt wrings every drop of pleasure from him, a snarl on his lips as he gives you everything, fucks into you until you lay breathless and tear-stained on the desk as he pulls out, his release spilling back out of you. He wants to frame the sight of it- he’d make it his screensaver if he could bear the thought of literally anyone else seeing this from you when he spaced out or went inactive. But this, your tears and your pleads and the way that you’re still shivering with the force of your orgasm? That was his, and would be his alone. He would fucking kill anyone who even thought that they could bring you to this state, anyone who dared to imagine it.

“V-Vox?”

“A͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞g̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟h̨͚͚͖ͯ̒̄͗͞j̺̺̭͖̘̬̃̓ͨk̼̼̞̦̞̼̔l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘” he says eloquently, and the word flashes across his screen a couple times before he comes back online properly, enough to string together an actual goddamn sentence. “Fuck, sorry doll,” he chuckles. “I think you broke me for a sec there.” He helps lower you from the desk onto your shaky legs, his chest only puffing a bit at how unsteady you are after being freshly fucked. “You good?”

“I think I’m okay,” you agree, sorting your skirt out, covering up all of the delicious bruises and scratches he had etched into your skin. Maybe next time -would there be a next time?- you would let him use his teeth, draw blood and leave marks in places that people would see so that they would know you were owned. “Um-”

“I’ll, uh, replace the panties,” he says sheepishly when he notices the strip of fabric he had sliced off your body on the floor. He brings a clawed finger up to wipe gently under your eyes at the lingering, unshed tears. “I just couldn’t help myself, you know.”

“That’s okay,” you say, and for the first time- was it really the first time? He would have to review his files, search through them to see if this had happened before- you smiled at him, eyes crinkled and a sweet curve to your mouth. “I was just as much involved, sir.”

“Vox,’ he says with an edge, but no real heat to it. Could he make you smile like that all the time? The crying was hot, the tears what really got him hard, but that smile… he’d do bad things to good people to see that again. “You’ve not gonna quit, are you? Velvette threatened to decapitate me if you quit because of me.”

You chuckle, the sound soothing his fried audio sensors. “I won’t quit. I’ll even offer to come up more often if we get to do that again.” You throw him another dazzling smile. “Unless that was a one-time thing?”

“Not at all, babydoll,” he says, and throws an arm over your shoulder as he escorts you to the door. He makes a mental note- which then sends an actual note out- to bring someone up to the office to get it cleaned up before work the next day. “Let me walk you to your car. I think you and I are going to be seeing a lot of each other going forward. Hey, I even have an idea- what if you leave Velvette’s team and come to mine? A personal assistant doesn’t sound-”

‘I think she would kill both of us,” you interject, and he has to agree you aren’t wrong. But he still spends the rest of the walk- “hey what do you know, elevator came to the penthouse instead of the garage floor, why don’t you come in for a drink?” - trying to convince you.

#hazbin hotel #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #vox x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #x reader #vox smut #my stuff <3

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Secrets behind the curtain. // Actor!Aemond Targaryen x Manager!Reader || MODERN AU

Summary: Aemond takes out his frustration of losing an award on you.

WARNINGS: mdni, dubious consent, p in v sex, unprotected sex, tiddy sucking, degradation, dacryphilia, car (it's a limousine) sex, slightly dark!aemond, riding, messy sex, power imbalance, rigged award show, + not proofread, please lemme know if I missed any.

WC: 1.7K

A/N: I cooked this while trynna complete my other wips like bro 😭 adhd be like 😋 also this isn't dark enough to be tagged under mae:dark!content but it does contain dubious consent (reader is implied to find the situation inappropriate to fuck) so yeah, a heads up // divider creds: @cafekitsune

“And the best actor award goes to…” The host trails off, leaving room for suspense and Aemond leans back relaxed on his chair, knowing that he would be winning.

“Jason Lannister!”

As the host announces the name, your blood runs cold, you notice Aemond twitch slightly in his seat, he shoots you a glare and you look down at your feet.

Aemond watches in anger as Jason goes up the stage and collects the award, “That asshole isn't even that good at acting.” He scoffs and you swallow, “Aemond, the cameras.” you whisper and he rolls his eyes, putting on a fake expression of a smile, as though he's happy that Jason won, but you know the truth.

After this award, a small break was given to artists to freshen up, redo their makeup, or relieve themselves, but for Aemond that wasn't the case, “We're leaving.” He tells you and you look at him in shock, “But- the award show hasn't ended yet? If we live now, the press might notice and create articles on how you left right after you lost.” You reason, trying to catch up to Aemond as he was making his way through the alleyway, reaching his limousine which was parked behind the building, he checked the area for any press before he turned to face you.

“And whose fault was that? You brought me here, saying that I would win, look what happened now.” He grabs you by your cheeks roughly and you swallow thickly, “You were supposed to win! The judges evaluated that your performance was better but the Lannisters might've played foul.” You tried to reason but he scoffs, making his way over to the limousine and getting in.

“Where the fuck is the driver?” He asks you, when he sees you getting inside along with him, and you shrug, “He probably went to take a break– but Aemond please, your image will be ruined if you leave now.” You beg, yet he remains quiet and sits down, you shut the door behind you and sit down as well, awkward silence filling up the air.

There was no convincing Aemond once he made up his mind, so you dialled the drivers number but he didn't pick up, and you took this as a sign to persuade Aemond one last time, as if he'll suddenly change his mind even though he refused multiple times.

“Aemond, the press will write about how you were upset that you didn't win and left right after, besides that isn't the only award you are nominated for, you are also nominated for best character in the series, which will take place after this break.” You tell him calmly and he scoffs, “Yeah, just so i can lose that award too right?” He glares at you, and you shut up.

You sigh to yourself, knowing that you'd have to be the one dealing with damage control, Otto and Alicent would not be pleased, considering how Aemond had already once gotten into a controversy for taunting his nephews at an award show, questioning their birth indirectly.

You are about to dial the driver's number once again before your phone is yanked off from your grip, your hand is then grabbed and you stumble forward into Aemond arms.

He wastes no time in unbuttoning your shirt revealing your bra, he untucks your shirt and pulls it off you, throwing it on the ground and then begins mouthing at your breast, and kissing on your neck.

“Aemond— we can't right now—” You try to protest but he interrupts you, “Shut the fuck up.” He grits his teeth and you immediately obey.

He pushes you down onto the seat and pulls your pants off, leaving you in nothing but your underwear and feeling vulnerable.

You open your mouth to protest again but he slams his lips against you, leaving you unable to speak. The kiss is aggressive, hungry and anger filled, he bites your lip enough to make it painful but not to draw blood, and you whine into the kiss. His hands roam up your body and he finds your breasts, squeezing them tightly and mostly aggressively.

He pulls away and begins to undo his own pants, unbuckling belt and pulling his pants and boxers down, revealing his hard and leaking cock, he unbuttons his shirt slightly, feeling hot.

Your panties are pulled off in an instant and thrown to where the rest of your clothes are, same with your bra, you grip the edge of slim seats to not fall off when he grabs your legs and spreads them wide, before leaning forward and causing your knees to push up against your chest.

He spits on your cunt, his hands now holding the underside of your knees, he lets one of them in order to line his cock up against your entrance before going back to the underside of your knees again.

You gasp when his cock stretches your walls, throwing your head back in pleasure, Aemond doesn't waste any moment and begins to ram harshly into your cunt and you bite your lip to prevent noises from coming out.

“Fucking slut, look at how wet you've become.” He says harshly, his hips thrusting in and out at a fast pace, he grabs your arms and pins them upwards, “'Foul play' you say? It doesn't matter how much money they've spent, you should've spent more.” He grits his teeth, still remembering your words from earlier. “B-but that wouldn't be fair–” You are cut off with a light slap to your cheek, before he grips it tightly, “Fair? Who cares about fairness? Look what happened now.” He spits in your mouth.

You swallow, knowing you have no choice, a small smirk forms on his lips at what you've done, likely satisfied with your behaviour.

But soon he remembers that this situation didn't occur because he simply wanted to fuck his favourite woman like all the other times, no, he was mad at you.

“You're so fucking useless, do you know that?” He asks and you sniff, staying silent.

“Useless whore, you couldn't even make me win the award, the only thing you're good for is being a cocksleeve and a cunt to dump my cum into.” He degrades you and you can feel the tears begin to form in your eyes at his words.

Yet he finds joy in those tears.

“You're crying now? Imagine how I felt when I lost the award huh? How embarrassing was it for me? Especially to that fucking Jason Lannister.” His thrusts become even more brutal.

Your body jolts up and down the seat at the impact, but you still remain silent, the only noises that leave your mouth being whines and moans.

“You're fired.”

Your eyes shoot wide open at those words and you begin to shake, “No- no, please!” You beg and he chuckles, “Desperate to keep this job that much huh? Why? Is it because of my cock?” He asks and you shake your head no, “Please–” You beg and he seems to be in thought.

He suddenly pulls you up, changing positions.

He is now sitting straight with you straddling him, your arms gripping his shoulders for balance.

“Do you really want to keep this job?” He asks and you nod eagerly, “Well, you know what to do.” He says and you nod.

You raise your hips slightly before going down again, you set a decent pace and begin riding him, you bounce up and down on his cock, gripping his shoulders tight, whilst he grips your hips.

“You're so fucking pretty like this.” He mutters, pressing kisses on your breasts before pulling your nipple into his mouth, your pace falters slightly, yet his mouth remains on your breast, suckling on the nipple, twirling his tongue around the bud, and groaning in pleasure.

He leaves your breast with a wet pop before giving the other one the same attention, “I love these tits so much, I can only imagine how delicious it would be if they swell up with milk.” He sighs, rubbing his face in between them and placing a kiss on your sternum.

You begin picking up the pace again, slightly leaning forward which makes the tip of his cock hit the sweet spot, making you let out a moan, you feel his grip tighten on your hips, and soon starts to thrust upwards, matching your pace.

“Fuck Aem– I'm so close.” You close your eyes, “I know baby, me too.” He kisses your neck, and due to the repeated hits at your sweet spot, you finish with a loud moan and immediately fall limp at the impact, your breathing uneven as you rest your cheek on his shoulder.

He thrusts a few more times before he comes too with a grunt, painting your walls white with his seed. You both stay like that for a moment until you break the silence with a question, “Are you actually gonna fire me?” You question and he chuckles, “And miss out having the best fucking company ready 24/7 for me? No. I'm no such fool.” He answers.

Suddenly your phone begins to ring, you get off him and pick the call up and Aemond watches you to do so.

You gasp when the other person reveals the news to you, and you turn to look at Aemond, who looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, and you end the conversation with the other person, cutting the call.

“The award show is cancelled, apparently the Lannisters have been exposed for the foul play they had done.” you tell him, and his face immediately becomes bright with a smile on his face, and soon it is replaced with a smirk as he watches you put your clothes on.

“You better prepare yourself for a round two at my house.” He tells you and quickly pulls his pants up, before you can say anything, the door opens

“Sorry madam, I wasn't able to pick up the call, my phone died when I tried to.” The driver apologises and gets into the vehicle, seating himself on the driver's seat and quickly starts the limousine, and you sit down next to Aemond, who rests his hand on your thigh, causing goosebumps to rise as you oddly anticipate what's about to come.

The ride home felt like an eternity.

— !  ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond x reader smut #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon smut #hotd smut #hotd x reader smut #hotd x reader #x reader #reader insert #tw: dubcon #aemond targaryen

[sluttsumu]

let me live my fratboy!inarizaki dream okay?

chars: ‘tsumu, osamu, suna, & kita

nsfw — mdni, tw: corruption

fratboy!atsumu who is literally the worst person alive, but he’s hot and a good fuck so it makes it okay, okay?

he’s fucked every girl from his fan club and every bimbo on campus but that’s not what satisfies him at all. prissy, hard-to-get girls with their hymens still intact really turns him on. why? because he enjoys the chase of a women who won’t instantly fall to her knees for him. secretly finding information about his next target so he could casually end up in the same study period, or walking along the same path just so he could talk to her. it could be labeled kind ‘stalkery’ but he labeled it as persistent, because at the end of the day once her manicure was clawing at his back it’s mission accomplished, and onto the next. “you didn’t think i actually wanted you? did you” he’d chuckle in the faces of the girls who looked at him with tears in their eyes, he figured that in the end they would end up blaming themselves for fucking a known whore anyway.

fratboy!suna whose an old money nepo-baby, in which he flashes his parents cash to attract gold digger, wannabe future housewives.

slut is an understatement, calculated whore is a better term. as a psyc major he’s the king of gaslighting and manipulation, AND THE GIRLS EAT IT UP. unlike atsumu he somewhat puts in the effort to finding a girlfriend, but there’s always a new one…every month. being sly and cunning is genetic according to him, it’s also the same way he manipulates girls into not wearing condoms. “c’mon pretty, how’re gonna give me an heir with latex in the way, hmm?” and it works every time. every selfish, greedy girlfriend he’s had falls for his antics in hopes to marry their way into his family, and give him a baby. let’s just say the only “compensation” they got was from a therapist or him buying them off to get a plan b the next morning.

fratboy!kita who is literally so smart he manages to y= m (x+d)^2 + k, girls into his bed.

it’s all so innocent at first when he offers to carry a certain girls books, and that turns into him sitting next to her in class. it’s cute from a far, isn’t it? when in reality he’s just singled out the classes bimbo in hopes to tutor her. day by day he’d observe while sitting next to her, as she’d glance over at him to catch him staring from time to time. she thought that he was maybe admiring how pretty she was or caught on to her perfume of the day, but that was never the case. in his mind he was practically drooling over the way her tits spilled out of her shirt, or when they had a test and he could tell she stayed up all night because she looked completely fucked out. after her whining a few times about her grades he offered to help, which just turned into him making her that much dumber by fucking her over his desk till she was babbling. “stupid girls fall into stupid traps” he’d say, and the fact that he did this every semester meant that he was always right.

fratboy!osamu who is literally the most nonchalant asshole known around the entire campus.

osamu was too persuasive for his own good. he could never hold a solid relationship or friendship with anyone of the opposing gender, why? because he ends up fucking all of his female friends, and then ghosting them not even 24 hours after. his tricks were the same with every girl, and a night out with him always turned into the walk of shame the following morning. the only notifications any girl would receive from him afterwards is a copy of their intoxicated sex tape which most don’t remember making and a follow up message saying “my friends think you look really good on camera btw”. confronting him after study hall the next day wouldn’t change a thing, simply because the only response he’d give was “do i know you?”

SLUTTSUMU 2023

#— kiscannons #haikyuu smut #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #hq smut #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya #osamu smut #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu smut #suna x reader #suna rintaro #suna smut #kita x reader #kita shinsuke #kita smut #hq #inarizaki #inarizaki x reader #haikyuu suna #haikyuu atsumu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hcs #college au #quick read #atsumu miya x reader #suna rintaro x reader #kita shinsuke x reader

[rileyslibrary]

Where’s my pen, Lt.?

Summary: You’re PMSing, and Ghost comes to the rescue.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,110

Notes:

Angst and fluff

Dedicated to my ✨ anon

Want more?

———————————————————————

How can you be angry, sad, and tired all at the same time? It’s a never-ending cycle. Every month right before your period, you feel like shit. What did your species do to deserve such a cruel and recurring punishment? What a selfish b*tch that Eve was. So much for taking one for the team.

You’re standing in front of a table with a shattered drone resting on its mahogany top. Fortunately, with the right tools, carbon fibre is easy to repair. Unfortunately, this army base doesn’t have the necessary equipment and personnel for the job. It can be a complex task if you don’t have the resources, especially if you lack the energy and strength to do it just by yourself.

Ghost is sitting in the corner of the room, cleaning his handgun. He looks calm—sirene—as if he didn’t just stare death straight in the eyes a few hours ago. How does he do that?

On the contrary, your movements are sluggish, you have terrible back pain, and you lack the motivation to complete even the most basic tasks. But you have to fix that drone for its next mission.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in one of the drone’s camera lenses. You’re unrecognisable. Your hair is acting up again, with unruly strands forming a halo at the crown of your head. Not only that, but your reflection reveals another issue. You take a closer look at your face. Fuck; another pimple. It decided to settle on your chin this time. Great—just great.

“Everything alright?” He asks, interrupting your thoughts.

“Y-yes, ready to start the process.” You answer with false confidence. Can he tell you’re faking it? Probably.

He says nothing but keeps staring at you with an unreadable expression, his silence giving an answer in itself. After what seemed like an eternity, he stands up and walks towards the door, exiting the room and leaving you alone.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, exhaling in relief. Come on, get a hold of yourself. Focus.

You gather your hair up and fix it with whatever you have available in front of you. Now is not the time to be making stylistic decisions. You’re not here to compete in a pageant, anyway. What you need to do is fix that damn thing and fast.

You roll up your sleeves, grab your notepad, and open it on a new page. You pick up your p-

Where’s your pen?

You begin searching the table for your missing item, picking up drone components and putting them back in an unruly manner.

Maybe it rolled off the table!

You kneel on the floor, furiously searching for your pen as if you’d lost your most treasured asset. Where did it go? It can’t just grow legs and walk away! It must be here, somewhere.

You stumble as you rise to your feet, bumping your head on the table’s corner. Dizzy and frustrated, you stay on all fours, attempting to calm yourself with every ounce of dignity you have left.

Until you ultimately give up. So much for the confidence boost you tried to give yourself a few moments ago. You roll around and sit on the floor, drawing your knees close to your chest and burying your face in them as you let out a long, deep sigh.

“Is that part of the repair process, soldier?” Ghost asks as he re-enters the room, “do you grieve the drone first before you glue it back together?”

Today, of all days, he decided to act like an asshole.

“I misplaced my pen, Lieutenant,” you reply, still seated on the floor.

“You’re crying because you misplaced your pen.” He repeats in a deep, monotonous voice.

“I’m not cr- forget it.” You sigh defeated.

You can’t tell him what’s going on inside you. He’ll never understand. Ghost could take a bullet to the shoulder and still manage to climb a mountain while you’re whining about a minor inconvenience.

“Get up.” He commands, and you follow his orders. You pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and attempt to stand as straight as possible.

He stares at you with those interrogative eyes of his and slides something from across the table. You look down at the purple-wrapped rectangle in front of you.

A chocolate bar.

“I know what’s up,” he says, shrugging as he looks at the chocolate, “you tend to be like that a few days before.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “How do you know?”

“I keep a log,” he explains. “I might be confident enough setting up an ambush in the middle of the desert, but I don’t push my luck with you.”

You crack a smile and accept the chocolate. “Thank you, Ghost,” you mutter, eyeing the piece of candy. He keeps a log, huh? What a guy.

“About that pen you were looking for,” he continues, “it’s in that patty of yours,” he explains and points at you.

In the what of yours??? You stand perplexed by his last statement until he gestures toward the back of his head. You mimic his actions and chuckle in embarrassment as you realise what he’s referring to. But of course! You used the pen to secure your hair. You exhale in relief and pick the pen off to set it on the notepad.

“You’re a lifesaver, Simon.” You reply.

“Keep your gratitude for the battlefield, soldier,” he adds dismissively. He’s obviously flattered, but he’ll never confess it. “Now tell me, how’s your back doing?” He asks, “still in pain?”

You nod. “Hurts like a motherfucker, sir.”

“Let me see,” he says, and you lift your hair up to expose the back of your neck. He moves in closer to get a better look, and you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin. His fingers are gentle as he works his way down your neck, kneading the soreness and pain away with skill. You wince as you feel his touch, but the pain is nothing compared to what it was before he began to work his magic.

“Oh, and, uh, Lieutenant?” You whisper softly, almost inaudibly, as you feel the tension leaving your body.

“Hm?” He murmurs, his strong hands now carefully massaging your shoulders.

“It’s called a bun,” you say with a smirk, “not a patty.”

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #✨ anon #Simon riley #cod ghost #cod mw2

[heavenblvd]

thinking about jj maybank giving you your first ever stick ‘n poke 🤍

jj had been begging you to let him put something on your skin; you had been reluctant due to your strict parents who would tear off the tattoo themselves if they saw it.

“i won’t put it on a place they’d see it!” jj would beg, and you would just glare at him, rolling your eyes. “it’ll be a small lil’ thing on your ass or something. they won’t see your ass.”

“unless when i’m wearing my swimsuit, j,” you retorted, and he sighed, groaning.

you and jj went back and forth about it for about two weeks until you finally gave in under the exception that he made the design small as possible.

he thought placing the tattoo on your hipbone was the best idea, doing the work on the chateau’s small kitchen table. everything about the whole ordeal was unsanitary and unsafe in every aspect; his needle was a sewing thread needle that was taped to a pencil so he had control of movements and dotting, and you didn’t even want to ask if the ink was actual tattoo ink.

“breathe, mama,” he cooed as the needle methodically pierced into your skin, practically puncturing your bone. you squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling and exhaling sharply. “you’re doing s’good. almost over, ‘kay?”

“if you keep speaking to me like that, i’m going to let you take me on this kitchen table,” you groaned, the needle feeling deeper than you anticipated. “you’re such an asshole for this.”

“you like every other pain but this?” jj joked, and you hit his bicep. “you’re gonna fuck up the art piece!”

the worst part of the tattooing is jj saying he wasn’t going to tell you what he was designing on your skin, just for you to trust him.

silence reeled back in for a moment, and jj rested his free hand on your stomach, his thumb caressing it. “that’s my girl, let me just get this last part.”

minutes flew past, and jj tapped your thigh, signaling you were done. he helped you up, steadily getting you back on your feet, and smiled down at the tattoo on your hipbone. “i’m a genius! i should do this for a living!” he cheered, and you panicked, grabbing your phone out to use the camera as a mirror.

you angled the camera down to your hipbone, and saw a small, weird duck now permanently inked into your skin.

you glared at him, and his smile faded, his face growing pale. “jesse james albert maybank, i’m going to kill you!” you shouted, and he bolted out of the chateau, with you trailing not to far behind him.

the pogues watched as they barely arrived back, but on enough time to see you tackle your boyfriend to the ground.

#jj maybank #jj mayback imagine #outer banks #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x reader #rudy pankow #obx #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x pogue!reader #rudy pankow x reader #jj maybank outer banks #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #jj maybank fanfiction

[matrixbearer2024]

Blips In My Routine

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: A slight interlude in the "Get Off My Screen!" Series to keep you guys entertained while I write it's continuation. I apologize that it's taking so long! School's kind of been kicking my ass recently and I've had to focus more on work than my fanfics. Don't worry though, I'll still be writing more Vox content(Lord knows we don't have enough /j) as long as you guys want to see it!

A/N: I love 🥭 Anon's idea and tbh I don't put it beyond Vox to do it either, I'm not sure if this is as good as the other installments but I hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. Btw, reader is in college so she's somewhere in her mid to late twenties. Happy reading!

You glanced at the ticking clock above the whiteboard.

It was just five more minutes before the bell would ring and free you from this boring lecture.

You fought to keep your eyes open as your gaze wandered back to the teacher's PowerPoint.

You hated this subject the most, not even because of the topic itself.

Rather, the professor could be kind of an old-timey asshole.

Thankfully though, it wasn't all that bad.

Not when you had to deal with an equally irritating digital companion anyhow.

Somehow you'd rather take Vox's bullshit over your professor's-

Speaking of, you both had fallen into a somewhat odd routine in the following months.

From greeting each other when you woke up or went to sleep-

To checking up on the other every so often within the day.

Not to mention spilling gossip when anything remotely interesting happened.

Either on his end or yours.

Like that time you saw someone's skirt snag in their locker door and just rip.

You could only snicker at their panic and shame.

The bitch highkey deserved it anyway.

Vox couldn't stop laughing when you eagerly told him all about it.

He knew you could be vicious if you wanted to.

Even if he was aware how much more inherently kind you were compared to the likes of him.

Sometimes the fact you found his companionship worth maintaining-

Or at least tolerable enough to keep-

Genuinely surprised the tech overlord.

Especially because you'd both been communicating for a little over a year by now.

It was nice interacting with someone else that weren't Velvette or Valentino.

Not that he'd ever openly admit to it.

It wasn't like Vox hadn't seen or heard you either, despite the fact he couldn't directly mess with the microphone or camera on your devices.

Your photos and files had more than enough stuff.

You often left him imagining your reactions and voice whenever the both of you chatted.

After all, most of your interactions were practically texting.

Sometimes you even wondered if Vox was constantly bored to end up finding companionship with you.

Or maybe he was lonely, who knows.

You genuinely couldn't be fucked.

He was an interesting guy and that was all that kind of mattered to you at the moment.

Your notepad window popping up snapped you out of that train of thought.

Glancing over at your laptop screen, the small desktop pet Vox gave you merely sat in the corner pointing at the notepad.

Oh it could do angry emotes too-

A slurry of words started pouring into the blank open text window, you figured Vox was probably having another shitty day.

Geez, who would've thought that hell would actually be absolutely crappy?

Well, let's see what he's complaining about this time...

This man was really typing way faster than you could read-

You were able to garner pretty quick what he was bitching about though.

Even if you kind of found the source of his irritation quite childish and kinda stupid.

"It's so dumb! The fact I can only talk to you with this goddamn thing is driving me insane!"

"Aaaand? What's wrong with the notepad? You also have the desktop companion."

You definitely started calling it that only because Vox was getting pissy that you were referring to it as a 'pet'-

"It can only do so much dollface, it's just glorified texting at this point. Besides, the tiny version of me is just an animated emoji keyboard."

"Well you already mess with my software regardless of what I tell you, what's stopping the great 'Technology Overlord' from hacking my camera and microphone?"

"Haha, very funny doll. Don't you think I would've done it already if I could?"

At this point you kinda just wanted to laugh at the whole situation.

Vox, a demon, one who could control electronics to his every whim-

Or so he claims.

Was being pissy about not being able to talk to you properly.

You couldn't tell if that was supposed to be endearing or hilarious.

He always got worked up over the smallest inconveniences.

You saw it as him being just very observant-

But it could also highkey be from his captain control freak tendencies.

"Then just make an app or something, you'll figure it out. Mess with the software settings or whatever."

That was the last message you wrote before the school bell suddenly rang out loud and clear.

You didn't even read his reply before shutting your laptop down and arranging your belongings.

Soon enough, you were the first one out of the classroom and more than ready to go home.

Vox knew you'd shut down your laptop after he got hit with his custom Voxtech screensaver.

Similarly to the wallpaper, he'd changed your screensaver to something more on brand.

While he did take your suggestion into account, a part of him wondered why he didn't bother trying in the first place.

But given the issues with him trying to access the built-in camera and microphone-

Vox felt a little concerned that modifying your devices too much could corrupt them.

That alongside all of your files and the data you had stored.

Wait...

Concern?!

He didn't actually care about your shit did he?

Oh fuck it!

He'll do whatever he wants to!

He was still careful not to really change much, he knows how annoying file corruption is and he didn't want to actually damage your data in case it had stuff you needed.

You weren't surprised that he'd taken your words literally-

You noticed a peculiar looking app appeared on all of your devices when you had arrived home.

That's a really fancy looking V design, was this Vox's doing?

Upon opening the app, you were greeted to a slightly odd looking interface.

It looked kind of like a more... sci-fi-esque styled chat room?

You wanted to say it lowkey looked like an Omegle room-

Before you could really nitpick at the design though, a text notification popped up on your phone.

You had just set everything up too, it seems like it came from the new app.

"Testing, testing. Are you getting this (Y/N)?"

To say you were amazed at what Vox had done was an understatement.

He was able to do so much in just so little time-

Just- how???

Oh, right- you should probably reply to that-

"Yeah yeah, I gotchu."

"Fucking finally! Working around your firewalls and antivirus was an absolute nightmare!"

Aaaaaaaand here came the usual ranting and bitching-

You just threw your phone on the bed and left to take a shower and freshen up while he kept at it.

Vox was actually quite proud he got the app to work.

Especially without affecting the existing system on your computer much.

If anything, it wasn't any different from the games or social media applications that already existed on your computer.

Granted, when he first booted the app to try it- the darn thing kept crashing and glitching.

But that was easily and swiftly dealt with.

Well, after much frustration and screaming but yes- taken care of.

By the time you came back, you saw an animated version of your wallpaper appear windowed in the app.

Right... that was supposed to be his face.

"Hello? (Y/N)? Can you hear me?"

What-

What the fucking FUCK-

Apparently, the thing you thought that was just a gif or an emoticon was actually a livestream of Vox's face.

And that was how he sounded like?

Okay that seemed pretty on brand for a telecasting television now that you think about it-

But how the hell did he manage to do this-

"Vox?! What the hell!"

You yelled out in retaliation, only growing more confused when Vox didn't reply or just kept repeating if you could hear him.

So he couldn't hear you, but he found a way to sort of project himself into your device.

What kind of upside-down thing is this?

Picking up the phone, you quickly used the chat-box to reply.

"I can hear you, but I don't think you can hear me?"

Vox just audibly cursed from what you could guess was frustration, staying silent and presumably typing out a reply.

Just how long had he been trying to fix this problem?

"I can't access your cameras or microphone whatever I do dollface, this was my last resort."

Seeing his live reactions allowed you to notice the genuine frustration and exasperation he had with the situation.

It kind of made you feel a little guilty for just brushing him off all the time now.

You always thought it was quite... old-timey for Vox to want to talk to you face to face.

Hold a "proper" conversation as he put it.

But maybe that was just because he grew that fond of your company.

Geez, what a sap.

"It's fine dude, I'm glad you made a specially designated space for our conversations though. My notes were starting to get cluttered with our conversations stuck in there with my school stuff anyway."

You could swear the small smile you saw on his face made saying all that worth it.

There really wasn't any reason for you two to switch mediums, but the new app wasn't unwelcome.

You were really starting to care more about this dumb TV head.

As you and Vox went back into comfortable regular conversation, you found solace as both you and your companion once again fell back into the odd routine you grew used to.

Come morning however, you were seriously reconsidering giving Vox the idea about making that custom application.

It was a stupidly large can of worms that you didn't even realize existed-

Notification after notification, you wondered just how much time the technology demon had on his hands to constantly bother you.

"Vox, I know you're happy about your app but can you stop spam sending me memes for five seconds?"

"Eh, not feeling it."

"Go to hell you dumb picturebox."

"Already here dollface, already here."

You facepalmed.

What an idiot.

Well, he was your idiot.

A/N: I'm leaning towards this being more than a just friends thing, dunno if I'll make it romantic or not in the continuation but I'd reckon that Vox and reader would get pretty close by now sooooo hahaha have fun y'all :D

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox x reader #vox x you #x reader #Get Off My Screen Series

[beom-pyu]

truth or drink! (couples edition): choi yeonjun

based off those truth or drink videos by cut on yt! who's next?

other parts: beomgyu & taehyun "my ex + my boyfriend edition" soobin "engaged edition" kai "blind date edition"

nsfw! (minors dni.)

welcome to truth or drink! couples will ask each other a set of random questions. they can either answer the question or take a shot.

“hi, i’m y/n.”

“and i’m yeonjun.”

how long have you guys been together?

YOU: “nine months.”

YJ: “nine months, really? i thought it was already a year.”

YOU: “that friends with benefits stage doesn’t count, i think.”

YJ: “ohhh, okay, okay.”

how did you meet?

YOU: “we had a class together in our freshman year of college and i thought he was sexy.”

YJ: “that’s it? you weren’t like attracted to my kind nature and generosity?”

YOU: “no, you just looked like you had good dick.”

yeonjun shrugs at the camera, a small smile on his lips.

YEONJUN: what’s the worst thing you’ve ever said about me to your friends?

you immediately reach for the bottle of fireball, pouring your shot glass to the very top. yeonjun glances at you, to the camera, and back to you, a disbelieving puff of laughter leaving his lips.

YJ: “was it that bad?”

YOU: “you used to be an asshole, jun.”

YJ: “...okay, fair.”

YOU: when was the last time you masturbated, and where was i?

YJ: “this morning. and you were right next to me.”

YOU: “why didn’t you wake me up?”

YJ: “you’re like the devil reincarnated in the morning.”

YOU: “i thought you were into that?”

YJ: “...”

you smile as yeonjun quickly pours himself a shot.

YEONJUN: what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done sexually with an ex?

YOU: “pour me a shot.”

YJ: “no, no, i actually wanna hear this.”

YOU: “oh my god. uh—okay. i fucked one of my exes with a 10 inch tentacle dildo.”

…

YJ: “can we try this sometime?”

YOU: “yeonjun.”

YOU: if i was put in a coma, how long would you wait for me?

YJ: “at least a good… year? maybe two.”

YOU: “wow… you wouldn’t wait an eternity for me? am i not the love of your life?”

YJ: “hell no. you run up my wifi bill.”

YEONJUN: when was the last time you faked an orgasm and why?

YOU: “i've never faked one.”

YJ: “you heard it here, folks.”

YOU: what would you think if you caught me watching porn?

YJ: “without me?”

YOU: “he’s actually said this before.”

YJ: “what if it was me?”

YOU: “‘again?’”

YJ: “okay, next question.”

YEONJUN: if our sex life was a porn genre, what would it be?

YOU: “dominatrix meets pegging meets cuckhold meets—”

YJ: “none of this is true by the way.”

you give him a pointed look

YJ: “some of it is true.”

YOU: have you ever had a crush on any of my friends before we started dating?

YJ: “you never brought me around your friends!”

YOU: “i’m pretty sure i did, like once or twice. it would’ve been awkward 'cause they knew we were fucking.”

YJ: “i brought you around my friends and they knew—wait, did you have a crush on any of my friends?”

YOU: “...pour me another shot, please.”

YEONJUN: name two celebrities you’d want to have sex with if we weren’t together.

you immediately take a shot.

YJ: “woah, wait why?”

YOU: “because i’d like a peaceful drive home.”

YOU: how many sexual partners have you had?

YJ: “maybe like… seven. eight?”

YOU: “you’re lying.”

YJ: “i’m not! do you think i’m a whore?”

YOU: “well, i’m dating you, so yes.”

YEONJUN: have you ever thought about cheating on me?

YOU: “you already know, but i’m taking a shot.”

YJ: “this is actually a funny story. so, there’s this guy named soobin—”

YOU: “okay, slow down—”

YJ: “and y/n didn’t cheat, but they asked if we could have a threesome—”

YOU: “we did have the threesome, by the way.”

YJ: “yes, we did.”

YOU: “we should call him later.”

YJ: “nah, i think we scared him off for good.”

YOU: have you ever considered having an open relationship?

YJ: “surprisingly, no. this is probably the first stable relationship i’ve ever been in and i don’t have any intentions on being with someone else right now.”

YOU: “agreed.”

YJ: “you’re all mine, baby.”

YOU: “...can i take a shot, just for that?”

YJ: “shut up, you love it.”

YEONJUN: what’s the one thing you would change about me?

YOU: “hm… well, you do get super defensive about the littlest things.”

YJ: “i do not! what the hell?”

you deadpan the camera.

YOU: what’s my biggest flaw?

YJ: “you’re like a borderline workaholic.”

YOU: “i agree with that.”

YJ: “and me?”

YOU: “hm… you’re very, very forgetful.”

YJ: “i’m like dory.”

YOU: “yea, except dory is actually cute.”

…

YJ: “is the video almost over?”

YEONJUN: what’s your favorite thing about me?

YOU: “you always manage to make me feel safe and loved, even when my confidence is really low.”

YJ: “woah… i thought you were gonna say my stroke game or something.”

YOU: “i mean… that too.”

YOU: why do you love me?

YJ: “who said i love you?”

YOU: “cut the cameras.”

YJ: “i’m kidding, i’m kidding. um, well i feel like i always have? like we’ve been friends for so long, but no one has ever made me feel the way you do. i’ve never been happier… like i’m my true self around you, and i know i can be because you’d never judge me for that, yknow?”

YOU: “awe. guys, i’m gonna cry.”

YJ: “they’re actually crying, look. zoom in.”

YOU: “and that’s a wrap! thank you for watching this video! don’t forget to like and subscr—”

masterlist

©️BEOM-PYU

#txt imagines #txt drabbles #txt fluff #txt smut #yeonjun imagine #txt x reader #txt x y/n #yeonjun x y/n #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun smut #yeonjun hard hours #yeonjun fluff #beom-pyu

[tojisun]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8tQfwXt/

this with biker!simon 🤭 the way he just melts omg

OH MY GOD I YELLED

nono fr omg the way he melted as soon as he heard it and the way he literally looks like hes about to lose his mind on the highway??? SCREAMING

!! suggestive - minors dni; sexting ig // biker!simon mlist

thinking about how this isn’t really something you’d usually send—you’re so used to his friends snooping on his phone so of course you two have to be careful. discreet.

but.

it’s been a while since you two have done anything more than rushed make out kisses. even the last time you two tried to squeeze a quickie, it was still, somehow, interrupted by your conflicting schedules.

you’ve tried to hold onto your patience. tried holding back even when all you wanted to do was jump simon because there he always is, beautiful and hot and just overall so goddamn attractive, it should be illegal to be that good looking.

but it’s been a while now. and you’ve missed him dearly.

it didn’t help that his last meet was all over social media, getting mixed into edits because of fucking course he is a tiktok edit now. you really can’t blame anyone—you were there, after all.

you’ve seen, first hand, the way he unveiled his new shop project before pairing up with that guy who you all still call konig. god knows what his name is but honestly you’re not even curious anymore. not when simon stole the goddamn show. again.

then the asshole had the audacity to point at you, black leather gloves stark against all the flashing cameras, and you watched as he made a little fucking heart with his hands. if the cameras weren’t going ham on simon then, they sure were after that little flirty stunt.

you felt yourself be engulfed in flames so, yeah. you really can’t blame anyone for sharing every pictures and videos they have of simon that day all over the internet.

still, somehow, you want to monopolize him. possess him.

and, if you’re not blaming anyone for sharing every sliver of simon’s meet, well, you hope no one can also blame you for what you’re about to do.

-

simon grunts as he finishes rounding a corner and begins easing into the highway. he rights himself up and blazes past the straggling sedans to get into the thick stretch of the road.

it’s not too windy today but dusk is breaking out and simon’s just glad he’s finally en route to your place. it’s been a long day and gods he’s missed you.

he gets the notification a few minutes in.

“hey, baby,” your message starts. “i missed you.” there’s a pause. “i’m wearing that lingerie you’ve always liked, you know the blue little thing? i forgot how lace feels since it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

simon’s breath is suspended in the pathway through his lungs, his eyes going wide as your words draw on. not even siri’s robotic voice can shake away simon’s thoughts—the vivid imagination of coming home to see you in that lace bralette and panties and—he grips the hand clutch tighter—the matching lace choker it came with.

fuck-

“might start without you, lover boy. so drive home—to me—safe, okay? see you soon, baby. love you.”

fuuuck.

simon books it home.

AAAAHHHH SCREAMINNN no bc this is me w simon!!

#anon #biker!simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #female reader #ask #suns