#he's not some fucking dom that has no cares for the simple things that man is SOFT

[whatthebodygraspsnot]

Maybe Part VI #7:

"Let's find out how much you want it."

"Let's find out how much you want it." additional tags: playful dom ian, grumpy sub mickey, petnames, foodplay, stripping

Despite their air conditioner crapping out on them at the hottest time of day, Ian is positively buzzing with childish energy. Because of it, maybe. Perhaps the return of sunny, sweaty afternoons is bringing out the silly billy in him, just like old times.

Mickey doesn't have that problem.

Where Mickey has also known a stifling summer childhood, he differs in the way that he's grown very comfortable with their air conditioner now that they've got it. Which means when it's broken, he's got something to say about it. Loudly. He's bitchy and grumbly and Ian wants to mess with him so fucking bad.

So when the impulse flairs to strike, Ian goes for it, sneaking up behind his husband and snatching the popsicle he just took from the freezer right out of his hot little hands.

"The fuck-" Mickey's turning on his heels in a heartbeat, swiping at the air where Ian holds it just out of reach. "Get your own!"

"Both know this is the last one."

"Yeah, and I fuckin' had it, so paws off!" He goes for another attempt, one hand bracing himself against Ian's sweat-damp chest, the other swatting way up over both their heads.

But Ian's got the height advantage - has too many things working for him, the popsicle wrapper crinkling as he holds it out of reach. "How bad do you want it?" he asks, the playful curl of his grin betraying him immediately.

Mickey doesn't have that problem. "It's too hot for this shit, man."

"It's not that hot."

"It's a hundred fuckin' degrees in here."

"Thermostat says 84 - I just checked." Another attempt. Ian slips the prize out of reach just in time. "And since when do you care about a warm house?"

"Since you got my ass trained like a fuckin' air conditioned poodle, bitch. That's when."

Ian's eyebrows lift as he stares down at him. He's willing to spend some extra time on that imagery, he thinks.

Maybe a little later, though. There's a couple things he wants to take care of first - like his sweaty, shirtless husband getting all handsy and rubbin' up on him like this.

With a new dash of spice to his playfulness, Ian takes a step back, interested in how Mickey stays put.

Another, then, until he's leaned back against the counter.

"Want it bad, huh..." he teases, enjoying how Mickey's eyes track the popsicle as he lowers it back to a reasonable height. "Let's find out how bad."

In front of him, Mickey has been given space to calm down. To simmer, simply, his hand coming up to rub over his eyes. "Man, I fuckin' told you I'll share the fan after I-"

"Oh," Ian interrupts, his slump backwards casual but decided. "I'm not talkin' about the fan, baby."

It's the tone shift of the century. Playful heat to rival the climbing thermostat. And no, his husband does not miss it.

Mickey lets out a great big sigh, but if he thinks he's hidden away the morbid curiosity lurking in it, he's dead wrong. "Whaddaya want." Simple. Cut and dry.

The corner of Ian's mouth quirks in absolute delight. "Take your shorts off."

The moment that stretches between them is dead silent - not even the hum of the air conditioner to fill it.

Then. "You fuckin' with me right now?"

"You want the popsicle?" Ian counters. And when Mickey makes a dramatic hand gesture that equates to a bitchy obviously, all he does is shrug, his brows bouncing in a clear then you know what to do.

It would be surprising, really, how quickly Mickey folds and starts shoving his shorts down. But there's just something in the air today. "Un-fuckin'-believable..."

Ian watches contently from his place against the counter, enjoying the reveal of those thicky, milky thighs. Even when the discarded shorts immediately get tossed at his face.

He snatches them out of the air just in time. Drops them on the counter behind him. Nods down to Mickey's boxers, like it's the easiest thing in the world to say. "Those too."

And oh...that little spark in Mickey's eyes could catch flame and spread in a bunch of different directions right now. Ian can't wait to see which one.

"Better hurry, baby. It's melting."

Soon it'll be a juicy, drippy mess.

And so will the popsicle.

The huff that comes out of Mickey is supposed to be pointed - he just knows it is, because he knows his man. But even with all this room between them, there's nowhere to hide the rush in it - the annoyed horniness - especially as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and then pushes them down to his knees, revealing what didn't even need to be said.

Ian grins to himself, tilting his head in amusement while he watches Mickey's cock hang heavily between his legs, before standing at attention right along with him.

Gorgeous.

"You happy now?" he asks Ian, standing naked and hard in the middle of their kitchen.

And oh! What an understatement.

Ian brings the end of the wrapper between his fingers but doesn't look away from Mickey - doesn't move a single muscle more than what he needs to pull the popsicle free.

It's definitely melting - sticky red juice dripping down the thawing sides of it.

Damn.

"On your knees."

Mickey blinks. Flicks his eyes from the popsicle back up to Ian and his order. The spark has definitely caught.

And Christ, does he look beautiful as he does it, his skin flushed and sweaty as he gives in one more time and kneels right on the kitchen floor for him.

Ian hums, the urge to play with him finally too much to handle. Not when he looks like this. Not when those eyes stay on him as he approaches, just a step away now, and then says it. "Lemme see that tongue."

Because this isn't about the popsicle anymore, is it? It stopped being about the popsicle a while ago. The evidence of that is right in front of him, the wildfire in Mickey's eyes spreading downward as he blinks up and Ian, and then silently sticks his tongue out flat for him.

Just as he was asked to.

Ian takes a second to appreciate the sight, a nasty thrill jumping through him and between his legs. "Mhm... Definitely want somethin', don'tchya sweetheart?"

And really, he's waiting very patiently. Has done almost a complete attitudinal 180. So Ian is happy to reward him, holding the popsicle upside down by the stick and hovering it over Mickey's open mouth.

Slowly, the melted juice drips down the sides of it. Pools at the tip for a moment. Gathers, sugar and anticipation clinging. And then finally, it drips right onto Mickey's tongue in a sweet, chilly splash.

Mickey stays very still for it, only shifting a bit to save his knees. Ian will get him up off the floor soon. But for now he's having too much fun watching that tongue curl up - flick over the tip of the upside-down popsicle.

Ian's dick jumps in his shorts - the power of suggestion. "That taste good, baby?" It's got to with the way Mickey tilts his head up closer, wrapping his lips around the tip to suck at it without a word.

Yeah. This is definitely not about the popsicle anymore.

Ian grins, slowly twisting it...pushing just a little bit more into Mickey's mouth...pulling it away and loving how he follows after it, his lips cherry-red and probably oh so sweet as they try to stay connected.

He brings the popsicle all the way into himself, holding it right at lap level, dripping and begging for another lick. And yeah, it's 84 degrees in here, but god damn does it feel like it's about a hundred when Mickey knees forward and then wraps his hands around the backs of Ian's thighs - wraps his lips around the popsicle - bobs his head forward with a nasty slurp as he swallows the whole thing down.

"Holy fuck..." Ian smiles, practically giddy. He swears this wasn't what he was aiming for at the start, but he's more than happy to see it through, all the concentrated action getting him good and hard behind where he holds the stick.

Mickey must know what it's doing to him. Must be making these nasty, wet slurping noises as payback, his eyes never looking away from him as he pulls off and licks his tongue flat up the underside of the popsicle.

Jesus Christ, this is so hot. Ian can't help but play along - joins in and runs the juicy red tip all along his chilled tongue. "So fuckin' sloppy..." It's too much. He's too hard. He's way too into this, what started off as just a bit of fun now spiralled into something nasty and playful and- "C'mere," he gives in, pulling the popsicle away and helping Mickey to his feet so he can get in real close - immediately lick over his cherry-sweet lips and right into his mouth.

Micky groans. Melts. Is so pliant in Ian's arms and letting him do fucking anything, his breath hot as Ian sucks on his perfectly chilled tongue.

Ian won't remember setting the popsicle down. But when they come out of the bedroom later, it'll be nothing more than a sticky red puddle on the counter, dangerously close to Mickey's shorts.

[ send me a smutty one-liner ]

#needed a distraction so here we are :) #gallavich #ray writes #smutty one-liners

[deaddofnightt]

something i feel like a lot of people get wrong about dean's characterization is that deep down he really isn't some hard ass. he's soft. he wants the comforts and pleasantries of life. like. dean takes creamer in his coffee instead of drinking it black, he likes a good homecooked meal, he wants to be held and loved on. i feel like people get too caught up in the image he pushes rather than who he really is

#maybe i'm stupid and this is obvious to a lot of you i don't read a ton of fic i'll admit #but hell that man just wants a soft happy life and i will be damned if yall are trying to suggest otherwise #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #mine #i'm buzzed and emotional about that stupid man so forgive me GOD #he's not some fucking dom that has no cares for the simple things that man is SOFT

[luxeslore]

why do you hate me?

tf141 men reacting to their spoiled gf saying “why do you hate me?” when she isn’t getting enough attention.

warnings -> 18+, f!reader, dom + sub dynamics, brat taming, allusions of impact play [spanking], petnames.

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

“excuse me?”

john’s eyebrows raise almost comically high. if it wasn’t for the stern glare taking over his features, you’d be giggling by now. instead you stay standing in front of him, shuffling on your feet with the same big pout you murmured your dumb question through. you despise making him upset with you—

at the same time, though… you feel those little sparks in your tummy when he pushes himself back from his desk and pats his lap. beckoning you to come sit on those strong thighs so he can sweet talk some sense to you. your feet can’t move fast enough, shuffling in your soft socks against the carpet. the rough denim of his jeans rubs against your own uncovered thighs as you shuffle in his lap.

“don’t ya think you’re being a silly girl?” it’s a simple question, but one you’re not exactly prepared for nonetheless.

your eyes meet his and there’s no way you can possibly shy away from his gaze. so you nod dumbly, and john’s chest rumbles with an approving hum. a strong hand cradles the back of your head, coaxing you to relax against his chest so he can put an end to this bratty streak you have in you rearing it’s ugly head.

SIMON GHOST RILEY

“what the fuck are y’on about?”

“just forget it, simon.” you bite back, turning on your heel to march away from him.

you hear his heavy sigh and it’s only a matter of seconds before the pair of big hands he has squeezes your waist, pulling you back into him until he’s able to growl right over the shell of your ear. you turn your head, tilting it upwards and meeting his fury filled eyes. it takes everything in you not to grin wildly and piss him off more than you already have— especially when you can practically feel the soreness his fingers will leave behind in your sides already.

“dumb pet,” he grits out, “could never hate you, not even when you act like this…”

at those words, you press a gentle kiss to his masked lips. and you know for a fact he’s rolling his eyes, tired of your theatrical tendencies and outbursts, but that doesn’t stop him from nudging your nose with his own. from pulling you closer and snorting out a breathy laugh.

“you’re still gonna fuckin’ get it later, y’know that right?”

JOHNNY SOAP MACTAVISH

“how dare ye?”

you know— you just know— that you’ve really fucked up this time. why would you say such a thing? why would you be such a nasty girl to the man who does everything for you? sure, he didn’t have his eyes on you for a bit— bless him, he just wanted to decompress after some training. and here you come, stomping over to him like a proper fusspot.

in a second, you’re tugged into his lap by your wrist. you clumsily fall on top of him but johnny is quick to readjust you, to make sure you’re getting a good look at his disappointed face.

“do ye even know what you’re saying?” he speaks lowly, doesn’t care how much your bottom lip wobbles under his harsh tone, “because i really don’t think ye do.”

“johnny, i’m sorry— i really—” you attempt blubbering out. however he presses his thick index finger against your pout, shushing you in an instant.

“fucked up again, bonnie.” he tsks.

maybe he’s right. you don’t know what you’re saying. you know better; you know what he likes to be called when you two find yourselves in situations just like this one, when you need to be put in your place. that’s why you don’t resist when he guides you to lay over his lap tummy down…

KYLE GAZ GARRICK

“princess, come on…”

kyle begins, treading carefully around your huffing form. strong arms loop around you from behind, humming softly when you melt right into him despite your bratty demeanor. you can feel him smile against the side of your warm face, while his scent and warmth invades your senses, calming you down immediately.

“you know that’s the farthest from the truth,” he whispers, kissing your cheek with an obnoxious smooching sound tacked on to each one. it prompts you to giggle and kyle laughs right along with you when he sees how much your nose scrunches up with happiness.

“there’s my sweet girl!”

he squeezes his arms around you, ignoring you when you shamefully apologize for being so ridiculous… because he knows deep down in his heart he’d let you get away with murder. so he shushes you with more kisses and murmurs about just how much he loves you, and plans on doing the same thing between your pretty thighs later on.

#🤍.cod #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #call of duty headcanons #cod headcanons #⌨️.luxe's writing

[etfrin]

❝ ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ worries — coriolanus snow ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ ❞

☆　Warning: NSFW | pinv sex, creampie, cum eating, blowjob, orgasm control, overstimulation, loss of virginity (m.), handjob, mutual masterbation (each other) if you squint, riding, spit play, breath play, reader has fem! anatomy, mentions of blood & blood sucking (from a lip bite)| lmk if I forgot anything

☆　Pairing: afab/gn! soft dom(-ish)! Reader x sub(-ish)! virgin! Coriolanus Snow

☆　Summary: uhm, you take Snows' virginity <3

☆　A/N: first time writing gn reader, please be respectful and tell me if anything's wrong, but don't be mean about it and i finally wrote reader spitting in Coryos' mouth and it should be a regular thing, look AT him ugh, a meal fr, wanna eat him, suck off all of his cu- i should stop...

Ps. The one who requested this to be gn, i hope you like this and i did it justice, if there's anything wrong (like accidentally refering to the reader as fem) then please let me knw :)

| masterlist | taglist |

“You've never done this before?” You questioned as you entered his room. All cold and dusty stone with a bed on the corner. The bed in which you plan to do unspeakable things with him.

“No, he said, “Will that be a-” You shake your head as you see his wide blue eyes waiting for rejection. He hated that he brought you here. He hated that you saw him. Him. Not Coriolanus Snow from the academy but Coryo who tries and tries but gets fucked over anyway.

After finding out that the District 12 girl was his, he wanted to protest, he was being set up to fail. You saw him for he is, his mind filled with worries, endless thoughts running around making him unable to breathe. He felt invalid and he needed you to do something about it.

And as you notice him among the crowd, seduce him with your eyes and whisper your desires to him. He brings you to the penthouse, trying to control the urge to apologize as you have to walk 12 cases of stairs.

You knew his secret like the dean did but you didn't do anything about it except for the meals and clothes sent to him anonymously during the coldest nights of Panem but he didn't know that.

You walked towards him, pinning him to the door of his room with a gentle thud. “You don't have to worry about anything, princess,” you whispered to him, your eyes filled with lust and your lips twisted in a teasing smile. You run your finger over his sharp jaw, taking joy when a soft gasp comes from him. His breathing is getting faster and the blood rushing from his cock and his head turning empty from your simple touch.

You were going to have some fun with this boy. You're going to make him yours. Make him forget and help him through everything as his now serrah. Even if it means rigging the games so he would win. It's your job to care for him now and you're a perfectionist.

The first task, let the wide-eyed man feel pleasure in someone's touch for the first time. You tsk in dissatisfaction as your fingers feel his bony chest. He needs to eat, he needs to be pampered. ‘I'll have to fix that’, you thought as you pressed your lips on his collarbone. He lets out a breath, his body heating up from the kisses you plant on his chest. Your tongue teasing his nipple causes him to whimper and you earn a broken moan when your teeth decide to nip the bud.

You suck his nipple, savoring the gasp he makes and how his fingers wove into your hair. “Please. Please more,” he groans and who are you to deny him? You couldn't say no to his pretty face even if you didn't want to. So you get down on your knees, pushing your face into his crotch and you swear you could smell the heady scent of his pre-cum soaking through his trousers. You moan, deciding to tease him as you use your teeth to pull down his zipper. You'll never know the will it took for Coriolanus not to cum right then and there.

You take down his trousers, the line of his hard cock clear in his boxes, a wet spot of his pre-cum formed where the tip is. You decided not to tease him words but with actions, your tongue licks the wetness, letting your saliva sweep into the fabric along with his salty pre. He groans above you, a thud echoing into this room as the back of his head hits the door.

You set his cock free from its confines, your mouth watering as you look at the pink tip forming a bead of pearly white pre-cum. The tip of your tongue catches it and the pleasure (or torture) of Coriolanus Snow begins.

You start simply, teasingly as your lips trail sloppy wet kisses all over his length. Your tongue traces along the pretty veins of his cock, your lips reaching his base and mouthing his cock causing him to let out a needy whine and a plea of more, more and more. You repeat the process until you catch his cockhead inside of the carven of your warm, wet mouth. Another broken groan leaves his mouth as he sees your lips stretch around his mushroom tip.

The fingers of his curled in your hair tightens and as a warning you make your nails dig into the flesh of his thighs causing him to his and immediately loosen his grip on you. An apology falls from his lips, his eyes glossing over as he feels his dick getting wet. Your mouth begins to suck his tip. Your tongue savors the bitterness of him as you swirl your tongue around his slit, lapping up as much as possible.

Meanwhile, Snow was biting his lower lip as hard as possible, the blood pooling in his mouth as he tried to keep much of his sound quiet for the sake of others who might be home. His mind was blank, all he could think was how pretty you looked on your knees like this, how you took control despite the one kneeling. You didn't even take all of him, sucking his cockhead diligently but the rest of his cock was left out. He was glad that did so because he knew he couldn't take the hot, wet mouth of yours all over his cock without cumming on the spot.

He could feel himself venture too close to spilling inside of your mouth, he let his free hand venture down to the path and he gripped the base of his cock trying to ruin his upending orgasm.

You take your mouth off him, making him let out a desperate whimper as he feels his dick out of your warm carven. You raised an eyebrow at him, feeling utterly amused by how adorable he is. You kiss his tip. “Trying to last longer, baby?” You questioned with a teasing tilt in your voice.

“I don't want to” Snow can't admit the fact he doesn't want to cum so soon, it's embarrassing so he says it in different terms, “I want this to last.” His eyes were now fully blown with lust, his curls clinging to his forehead and his cheeks painted red with pleasure.

“Hmm,” you hum, standing up trying to ignore the slight ache of your knees. You take his hand, guiding the boy to bed before pushing him on the mattress. You straddle him, his shirt was long forgotten on the floor along with the rest of his clothes. It was your turn now and you quickly did the same. Coryo lets out a needy soft noise as your skin is exposed to his eyes, his fingers skimming along the curves of your body. “Can I?” He asked, his eyes begging for your agreement.

“Yes, Coryo. You can,” you permit him and you nearly let out a wanton moan as the heat of his fingertips sweeps into your skin, warming you up as his hands experimentally begin to knead your breasts. His fingers squeeze your nipples making you softly moan near his ear. “That's it, baby. Make me feel good.” You whispered to him, “A bit rougher- ah- ah- there you go. That's a good boy.”

His hips jolt forward when you praise him and a whine escapes from the back of his throat. “Please,” he lets out, “Let me feel you. I will be good, I promise.” You gaze wonders at his angry red tip and you decide not to play with him any further for the moment. You kiss his forehead for a moment of vulnerability in all of this tension. “Okay, my prince,” you whispered as you kissed his lips next, letting your tongues meet in a rather filthy and sloppy kiss as you let him guide you to your back on the mattress.

His hand traces down and gets a hold of your hips, his fingers squeezing the flesh a tad too hard but it felt so good and the fact he would leave marks didn't bother you. Your fingers wove into his blonde strands, bringing him down to catch his lips in an open mouth kiss. As your other hand is on his shoulder, his body pressed onto yours and you moan into his mouth as you feel his comforting weight on top of you. His dick twitched against your thigh, leaking pre-cum onto your skin.

You take in his bleeding bottom lip in your mouth and suck on it, enjoying the tang of the metallic taste on his tongue as he clumsily begins to press his cockhead into your soaking cunt. You were so focused on Coriolanus that you had forgotten about your aching cunt begging to be stretched with his cock.

If it hadn't felt so good when his cock slid right in because of how wet you were, you would have been embarrassed. You bite into his lower lip, trying to adjust to the burn of being stretched by his thick cock. If you weren't so impatient, you would have taught Coryo how to prep you first but that's for another day.

Coryo feels your teeth sinking into his bottom lip and a wanton, surprised moan leaves his mouth, his balls emptying and thick spurts of his cum flood into your pussy. You cry out as you feel his cock cumming against your pulsating walls. He buried his head onto your shoulder as he gasped his apology. As much as frustration filled your mind, you knew that you had to be gentle with your plaything.

You run your fingers through his hair, comforting him. “It's fine,” you whispered, your lips placing soft kisses on his shoulder. “But I don't want it to be over,” he admitted, shyness and desperation filling in his tone. “It doesn't have to be,” you replied as you squeeze your walls around his softening cock. A wicked smile plays on your lips, as you whisper, “It isn't over until I say so.”

He nods, willing to agree with whatever you say. You pushed him off you, getting yourself on top of him as his soft cock fully slips out of your pussy, leaving the entrance pushing out of his cum. Your fingers gather his seed and you pop your digits into your mouth, your tongue lapping up his taste off your fingertips. His dick twitches from the sight, coming back to life as Coryo lets out a whine while he looks at you sucking your fingers so good with your mouth hollow.

You take his length in your hand, fingers surrounding the girth in a perfect fist. He hissed when you squeezed and began to stroke him slowly. Trying your best not to overwhelm him and failing miserably because tears were pooling in his eyes, his lips were parted to leave wounded, pretty sounds. His fingers curled on the bed sheets as you stroke his cock back to life.

You lean to press another kiss to the tip, your eyes peering at his teary ones. “You sure?” You asked, you had to pat his cheek for an answer because all that left his mouth as you questioned was a whimper.

“Do you want to continue, Coryo?” You asked, in the softest tone possible. Your mind is ready to cuddle him for aftercare and draw a shower. But instead, he shakes his head, “Don't please- I need this.”

“Okay, I won't,” you whispered back, your lips pressing a wet kiss to his cheek, and then let the kisses trail until you reach his neck where his pulse is. Your mouth begins to suck as you continue to stroke his length, your fist now covered with his drooling pre-cum, a bit more watery than before.

Your free hand goes to your cunt, your fingers rubbing your clit to feel some relief from your aching pussy. Coriolanus notices that and can't help but feel bad. His fingers wrapped around your wrist stopping your movements, a silent question in his eyes and you removed your hand in answer.

A giddiness could be seen in Coryos as he explores your cunt for the first time. You get into a position where it is easier for you both to play with each other. He spreads your pussy lips, his eyes taking in your glistening cunt (with your juices and his cum). He swipes at your folds, gathering the wetness all over his digits, and you encourage him to take the digits in his mouth, and of course, he agrees.

He will do anything to get his head empty and his body to be jelly. So he takes his fingers in his mouth, letting his tongue lick every remnant of your juices and his bitter cum. He groans, his eyes getting cross stared and his cock begins to throb dangerously in your end. He was close to the edge again by such a simple thing.

‘Cute’ you thought, but you don't want him to cum again without getting something in return. So you stopped the strokes, ignoring his confusion, and pleas for more. Instead, you guide yourself on his cock again, your eyes flashing to him with a warning that despite the gentleness you had shown, you could be cruel too.

Yet when you sink on his cock, you make sure to hold his hand, fingers intertwined for comfort. You murmur endless praises to him.

“That's a good boy.” “Look at you filling me up so well.” “Ah- fuck, baby. Your cock is stretching me out perfectly.”

Each praise made his cock throb against your pulsating walls. This time he didn't cum immediately, but the jolt of electricity that went through his veins when both of your pelvis bones were touching, now joined to the hilt felt like he did. You take the hand you were holding and kiss the inside of your wrist with butterfly kisses.

These simple actions of yours were overwhelming to him. No one had cared for him so delicately like he was glass. It meant everything to him and a rush of emotions caused tears to begin to flow from his eyes.

You chalked his crying to overstimulation and leaned forward to kiss his eyelids. “It's okay,” you whispered against his ear, “It's okay, Coryo.” You let out a soft moan as you begin to move your hips. Slow and shallow thrusts. You hear him groan too, his hand squeezing yours. His free hand on your ass, groping the flesh.

“That's a good boy,” you whispered when you began to speed up your rocking hips making Coriolanus gasp. “You're doing so well, my dear,” you praised him. You moan as your hips find the perfect angle to hit the spongy spot in your gummy walls.

You begin to ride Coryo in earnest. His cock stroked the deepest part of your slick walls with each thrust. It makes you see stars with each breath you take. It was perfect and you made sure that Snow knew that with your hushed praises. Meanwhile, Coriolanus wasn't better off either with molten lava in his body, his mind now blank with how good getting dick wet felt.

He never understood the hype about sex but now he was addicted. He was sure he was going to need you like air, like a puppy going for a pet to its owner for comfort. He was going to need you after this, again and again.

He was close, wanting to cum again, he could feel how wet your walls were and wondered if it was your juices or his own that contributed to it the most. He was close so he voiced that. “I am-” he closed his eyes, feeling the burn of embarrassment, “Close.”

You hum in response, stopping your movements to catch a much-needed breath. “You're not allowed to cum until I say so, pretty boy,” you said with authority, “I let it go the first time, now I expect you to behave.” You add, “You'll cum with my permission or else. . .” You smirk, “You're a smart boy, Coryo. You wouldn't like punishment, would you?”

Coriolanus shakes his head, he sniffs and you find it adorable how his nose scrunches up that it makes you smile at him. “I will be good, I promise,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Please.”

You give him a nod. You leaned down to kiss his lips, both of your tongues tangling together into something soft. Your hand leaves the grip it had on his hand to wrap itself around his neck. He moans inside your mouth as you put a bit of pressure onto his neck, not restricting his breathing but certainly making him light-headed. It worked as a good distraction.

Your free hand goes between your bodies and you find your clit. Your fingers begin to play with the bud. Small circles send jolts of pleasure to your core, making your cunt tighten around his dick. It made his hip snap back into yours, a deep groan resounding in the room as his hips began to thrust into you. Just small movements of sheer desperation of wanting to cum.

You were feeling the same, desperation clawing your body as the tension keeps building and building each time his cockhead grazes your g-spot. You were so close and everything turned sloppy.

Two animals in heat it seemed with how the two of you were acting. Your fingers pinch your clit as you begin to rock on his cock faster than ever, deep groans leaving Coryo's lips and his hands holding onto your hips to ground him as he takes whatever you give.

He was pussy drunk, his eyes glazed over and mouth drooling on the corners. You were pathetic enough to lick the saliva, holding his jaw open as you gathered your spit inside your mouth and then you let the goop of drool fall onto his tongue.

You thought for a moment this would snap him out from his fucked out glaze, except he swallowed it without a word, his hips stuttering in the pace and he mutters, his lips glistening, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” And god, that ruined you.

Your cunt begins to spasm around his cock, flexing walls around his length causing him to cry out for permission to let go and you yell out a yes. Liquidy spurts of cum begin to shoot out of his tip and inside your womb. Both of you let out a moan as the thrusts begin to slow down and cease.

As soon as you catch your breath and your body feels solidified, you caress his cheek. “Would you like to cuddle, baby?”

The answer to that was a breathless yes.

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[peachypinkygloss]

dior girl ✰ park jimin

Park Jimin is one of a kind. When he wants something, he gets it, no matter how hard it can be. He's not scared to get his hands dirty. If he had any morals, maybe he'd consider his obsession with you getting out of hands. But this man has absolutely no morals.

୨୧ pairing: designer!jimin x model/fem!reader

୨୧ genre: strangers to lovers, age gap (21 & 38), smut, slight angst

୨୧ word count: 8.1k

୨୧ warnings: unrealistic depiction of the fashion industry, alcohol consumption & mention of drugs use, manipulation & corruption, jimin isn't a good person (especially not to oc lol <3), violent sexual thoughts, jimin's a sadist (my fav headcannon :D), heavy dom/sub dynamics, hard dom!jimin, unprotected vaginal & anal sex, anal play (use of a buttplug), my new headcannon: jimin likes giving anal, dacryphilia, praising & degradation, oral sex (m), face fucking, aftercare ig because yes jimin's a sadist but he still has a heart.

a.n.: yup so idk if you guys were expecting that... but i did say none of the characters were ethical lmfao so 🤷🏻‍♀️ i really, really hope you like the first part, i've worked hard on it even though it's not super long. so please, reblog and tell me what you thought about it! <3 as always, don't like, don't read.

[dior girl moodboard] ["older" masterlist]

His studio is his sanctuary. It's the only place in the world he can spend hours in without even noticing the moon setting or the sun rising. In his studio it feels like the time doesn't exist or that it's just a futile detail that doesn't have much importance.

When he's creating a piece, nothing around him matters. The only things he's willing to give attention to are the placements of the needles on the fabric, the little lines that form the pattern of the clothing, and the way his scissors cut through the satin material of the dress he's designing.

He's thought about this design for so long and he finally got the opportunity to make it. He's thought about the colours of the dress and also of the seam, about the length of the hem and the sleeves, how deep the neckline should be and if lace would be suitable.

He doesn't even recall how many sketches he's made of the dress. At some point it was consuming his entire mind, this dress the only design he could draw and think of.

Now that he's finally creating it, he has the feeling that it's going to be the best piece he's ever made. He already sees everyone talking about it, saying how much of a genius Park Jimin is. It's going to be the design of the year — of the century.

He still misses something, though, and it might be the most important part of the design. He needs a model, the perfect body to wear his piece and present it to the fashion world.

It can't be anybody, it must be someone who's confident, who always has their head up and who radiates elegance and sports a unique beauty.

Jimin still hasn't found this person. He constantly searches for them, but never finds them or when he thinks that he has, he discovers flaws he cannot unseen.

All the Dior models are great, but not enough. They don't spark anything in Jimin when he watches them strode down the catwalk. He's checked upon the apprentices and the newer models the company has hired, but he saw no one extraordinary.

Until today.

He hears steps against the wooden floor of his studio, entering the place without knocking. "Ah, there he is!" A manly voice exclaims, Jimin immediately recognizes it as his friend's, Sungwoon. "I have someone to introduce you."

Jimin raises his gaze up from his working table and looks at Sungwoon who's accompanied by a beautiful, young woman. He's then suddenly interested, contrary to usual where he doesn't really care about the many girls Sungwoon brings, claiming each one as the new phenomenon of the fashion industry.

When Jimin turns around, he eyes you up and down, barely glimpsing in Sungwoon's way. It's all it takes, one simple glance and he knows you're the one he needs — the one he wants and has to ruin.

Sungwoon introduces you both and when your name is pronounced by the man, sounding so charming and delicate, he's certain you're the model he had been waiting for since a long time.

You seem shy, arms locked behind your back, but you stand up straight and have a polite smile drawn on your face.

"I thought maybe you'd like to get to know each other, right?" Sungwoon raises his eyebrows in Jimin's direction. "Everyone's fond of her," he smiles and pats your back, encouraging you to speak up.

"Thanks," you smile back at Sungwoon before glancing back at Jimin who still hasn't looked away from you. "I've been a big fan of your work since I was a little kid, Mr. Park. You've inspired me to become a model."

The way you say his name has his cock twitching in his pants, filthy thoughts of him spanking your butt while you cry his name invading his mind.

He can sense your vulnerability, your willingness to submit. Who would he be to deny you that? Him, who is so eager to dominate the ones he's attracted to, to break but also repair them.

He knows it when someone's fragile, hiding their weaknesses under fake confidence. He doesn't know you, but he recognizes the pattern almost instantly. What can be broken can also be repaired and you're asking him to break you.

"I'm glad to hear that," Jimin says politely, a slight smile tugging on his lips. He's not the type to smile — stretch the corner of his mouth upward to imitate the person in front of him, he finds it useless. But for you, he'll do it, just so you trust him because you're so desperate to give yourself to the opposite sex.

"Park, you were wondering who'd be part of the fall show this year," Sungwoon begins, looking at you like you're the most irradiant ruby in the world. "Well, you have her in front of you." You giggle softly at the man's words, nodding your head at him and then looking at Jimin as if waiting for some praises.

Jimin faintly smiles, seeing your eyes glimmering and he curses himself for not finding you first. You'd have been his by now, his to praise, to kiss, to fuck, to destroy. But he swears, if he happens to break you, he'll gratefully keep you safe close to him.

๑♡՞

T H E N

"Careful," Jimin softly says as he catches you up from falling on the floor. You let out a high pitched laugh, as if all of this is a big joke, and push him back with a hand on his chest.

"I'm fine," you answer, shrugging him off with a flip of your hand. You stagger from left to right, leaning against the wall when you almost fall a second time. You laugh it off again, halting your steps.

Jimin looks at you with a cringe expression, eyeing the people behind, sporting worried looks on their faces.

You all went out after the show; models, designers, directors, stylists... everyone. It wasn't your plan to get drunk, Jimin knows that because you're not supposed to drink alcohol since you're on a very strict diet. A glass from time to time isn't so bad, but your consumption clearly surpassed just one glass tonight.

It's not really your fault, though. Technically yes, since you're the one who swallowed all of the glasses of wine, but you had a little help.

A little help from Jimin himself.

When you weren't looking, he poured more alcohol in your glass and to his satisfaction you've noticed nothing and gulped everything. Sure, you got a bit suspicious, wondering how you had only drank so little when you remembered swallowing more than that.

But Jimin assured you it was only your first glass, so you drank, and drank, and drank... Until you were more than tipsy.

You've received nasty looks from your colleagues, especially the other models who weren't drinking a single drop of wine, and yet, still weren't awarded with the status of the 'face of Dior'. How ironic that the drunkest girl in the room was the face of Dior and the little protégée of Mr. Park.

Years and years of training, countless sleepless nights, meals that are as nutritious as birds seed... All of the efforts in the world to have your biggest dream stolen by a model who is in the industry for less than six months.

Their rage is understandable, but Jimin couldn't care less. In fact, everything is going as planned and he can't fuck things up now. No, because if he does, all of the things he has done until now will be completely irrelevant.

"I'll... I'll bring her to our room, you can go out without us," Jimin announces, watching you sit down on the floor in the middle of the corridor.

"Will she be okay?" A stylist asks.

"Of course. I'll take care of her."

He waits for everyone to be gone before he gets you up from the floor and leads you both to your hotel room. When you're in the room, he sits you down on the bed.

You don't say anything as he takes off his jacket and loosens his tie. He crouches down in front of you to remove your heels and he does the same with his shoes, leaving them at the entry.

When he comes back, he sees you quietly crying, the features of your face contorting into a sad expression. You've slightly sobered up, harshly coming back to reality, realizing how much you've embarrassed yourself tonight.

"What did I do?" You ask, looking up at him with teary eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

Jimin sits down beside you, lifting your head up with his index under your chin and his thumb over it. "There's nothing that can't be repaired," he states in a soft voice, so low it sounds like a sweet whisper — a secret, a confession only you can hear. "Right?"

You sniff, wiping your tears away. You nod your head in agreement, slightly reassured, hoping Jimin will fix your mistakes. Your foolish mistakes, done by the carefree of a twenty-one year old.

"Shh, baby, shh," he softly murmurs, cradling your head in his hands and gently laying your face against his chest. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tighter and tighter til suffocation.

He strokes your hair delicately, placing a sweet and warm kiss on the top of your head.

Someone as vulnerable as you contains a lot of emotions. He has to deal with them, which doesn't bother him at all. He wants you the way you are; sad and pitiful.

"Everything's going to be fine," he promises, but it's not entirely the truth. Not everything will be fine, though it'll be in the end, he thinks — he hopes.

You eventually pull away from his embrace, just enough to look at him. It seems like you're searching for something or maybe waiting for something, your eyes desperately staring at Jimin as if his simple presence will make all of your problems fly away.

You throw yourself at him and kiss him on the lips, fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He reciprocates it, knowing you like your kisses sloppy and messy, wanting Jimin everywhere on you to remind you that he's always there.

You bring him closer, crumpling the material of his white shirt between your fists, moaning and whining as your teeth clash together at how roughly you kiss each other.

Jimin breaks your exchange first, both catching your breaths. His eyes observe you quietly as you look at him like you're still waiting for something.

"Did you do what I told you to?" He questions you, referring to your conversation of a few days when you came to his studio to try on his dress.

You were a bit stressed out, putting on the clothing like you were scared you'd rip it. He still remembers the way the satin was sliding up your body, hugging your waist and ass perfectly. He was baffled at how incredibly well it suited you as if he had made it exactly for you.

And maybe it was made for you, after all.

Because when he saw his creation on you, he knew you had to wear it for the runway. It has to be you, he'll accept no one else.

Jimin will make you walk the runway wearing his dress — the last time you'll ever step on the catwalk. After that, he'll keep you away from the rest of the world. He'll refuse anyone to see you because you're going to be his.

His forever.

"Yes," you nod your head, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Tell me what you did," Jimin softly demands, holding your chin in his hand, mouths inches away from each other.

You're too shy to say it out loud and that's why he wants you to tell him. Also to be sure you did everything correctly, but mainly because he wants to see you embarrassed.

"I prepared myself for you..." You begin, holding eye contact even though you feel your face heating up just thinking about all the things you've done per his request. "I... I used lube both on me and... the toy," you continue in a shy tone, so low Jimin wouldn't hear you if he wasn't so close.

"Where on you, sweetheart?" He interrupts, wanting each detail, each little thing you normally wouldn't have done if it wasn't for him. And all while thinking of him.

You swallow, "On my ass, Jimin," you answer in a whisper. "I stretched it out for you, using the toy like you told me," you finally admit.

"Good girl," Jimin purrs. "Let me see it then."

You proceed to strip off of your dress, now used to be nude in front of him, and slide your panties down your thighs, discarding them away on the floor.

You get back up on the mattress and position yourself on all fours close to the edge of the bed. Jimin stands up and goes behind you to have a closer look at your ass.

His veiny hands pull your cheeks apart, revealing your rim to his insatiable, sadistic eyes. You glance over your shoulder, curious of what he has in mind and what he has prepared for you.

You softly gasp when he spits and lets the globe of spit drip down between your asscheeks, rolling over your puckered hole. You clench around nothing, relieved to have his attention, to finally feel his hands on you instead of the usual touch of yours.

He sees that your ass is a bit looser than the last time he saw it, but it still clearly needs more preparation to welcome his girthy cock — though it's not like he cares that much if you're prepped enough or not.

He passes his thumb over your tight muscle, circling it and smearing his saliva over it. He wants to fuck it so bad, destroy it and do unbelievably violent things to you. Should he tonight? Should he show you his dark and evil side?

He's choked you before — smacked your ass hard til you felt your skin stings, overstimulated you to the point your orgasms were just spasms passing through your body, fucked your throat while you were drooling all over yourself, and tied your legs and wrists together to restrict your movements.

So fucking your ass can't be that bad, but the thing is Jimin wants it to be bad. He then wonders what would happen if the line is ever crossed. Would you endure it, would you defend yourself? Would you shut the fuck up and take it like you're asked to?

But you trust him so much — with all your pathetic being — and he thinks you'd let him cross any lines he desires to. He probably already has crossed multiple lines, and being the poor, sad girl that you are, you said nothing.

You truly are extraordinary.

He gives a slight slap to one of your asscheeks, groping both of them after, feeling how soft and tender your flesh is. "You did good, sweetheart," he comments in a honeyed voice that has you mewling, sounding so smooth and sweet. "How about we play with it a little?"

He lifts up a brow at you and you nod sheepishly, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. "Yes..."

"Great," he says in a low tone, running his hands one last time over your ass before going to take something from his suitcase.

"What is it?" You question, your curious eyes landing on the small object he's holding.

Jimin brings the object to you, something made of metal, the end having the shape of a cone and a pink gem placed on the top. "A gift for my princess," he replies, opening the bottle of lube he brought as well.

He applies some lube around your tight hole and on the butt plug, and carefully pushes the head of the toy in your ass. You gasp softly, feeling it slowly stretch you out, sinking in gradually as Jimin holds your cheeks apart.

"Mmh, feels good, Sir," you moan, arching your back and pushing your butt closer to Jimin.

When the plug is all the way in, the pink gem peeking out between your two globes of flesh, he smacks your other cheek, making it jiggle from the harsh hit.

"Is that so, dirty girl?" He wonders, gripping your hips and colliding his hips with your butt, sensing his big bulge pulsing under his pants. "You like it when your little ass gets stretched out?"

"I like everything you do to me," you say with a content sigh, pussy clenching around nothing as your ass gets used to the small butt plug.

Jimin genuinely thinks he can't find better than you. You were so shy in the beginning, looking like a lost puppy wherever you went. You just needed someone bigger and older to show you the way — though you were too dumb, and still are, to realize he was leading you to the wrong path.

It's not like you seem to mind, anyway.

After all, you both got what you wanted; you, male attention, someone to rely on and be protected by, and him, a woman to break and keep with him forever.

He lets go of your hips to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather material out of the gold loop with the luxury Dior logo on it. He lets the two ends of the belt hang off, not bothering to remove it completely, and tucks the fly of his pants down.

He finally frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, springing up and slapping against his stomach, the bit of pre-cum escaping from his tip dampening his shirt.

"You're so good to me, princess," he praises as he wraps a hand around the base of his engorged cock, aching and begging to be nestled in your cute little pussy.

His head pushes at your entrance, never fully entering, only teasing your hole and stimulating all of your sensitive nerves. He watches how his cock stretches your cunt, your walls expending to receive his bulbous tip and then closing down when he pulls out.

"Sir, please, want more," you beg him, pushing your ass on him to have his dick back in you. You let out a little whimper when Jimin holds your hips in place, stopping you from wiggling your butt side to side against his thick cock.

He hums and slaps your ass harshly, your skin stinging after. "Want my cock in your needy little pussy, baby? Is that what you're crying for?" He asks, teasing even more by swiping the head of his penis between your pussy lips, a string of your arousal sticking to his angry tip.

"Yes," you say back quickly and desperately, arching your back, literally presenting yourself to Jimin. "Been so good, don't I deserve it, Sir?" You softly murmur, still looking over your shoulder to see his gaze fixated on your quivering pussy, cock head sliding up and down over your sex.

"You do..." He responds distractedly, licking his plump lips, his fingers touching the pink gem peeking out from your ass. You're always so good and obedient for him, he even wonders if you ever did something that genuinely pissed him off before.

When he really sinks in, his head passing the barrier of your sweet pussy, he groans deeply, feeling your walls deliciously enveloping his hard cock tightly.

You moan in unison as he bottoms out in you, his balls touching your wet and warm pussy. He bends his back over yours, running his hand up your spine, feeling all the little bumps of it until he reaches your head and shoves it against the mattress.

You whine when he starts pounding into you, his girth stretching you out so well, leaving you panting and moaning loudly. His other hand holds your hip against his dick, fingers digging into your skin, leaving permanent marks on your body — as well as on your mind and your soul.

He already sets a hard and rapid pace — fucking is never soft or loving with Jimin, it's violent, long, and agonizing. It's a way to be himself, the real and dark version of himself he hides in public and releases when he gets intimate with you.

You surprisingly got accustomed to it, embracing it as if it was your destiny, the reason for your existence; to be his personal slut, the little toy he likes to play rough with. And you've accepted it, like you had no other choice but to be fucked into oblivion by Jimin whenever he feels like it.

"You like that, baby? Huh?" He growls, as if you're the disgusting one for liking the way he treats you, ravished and delighted to have his girthy cock sliding against your velvety walls. "You like it when I fuck you hard like this?" He repeats and grips your hair, pushing your head against the bed covers with more strength.

You babble out something, voice caught in your throat, too out of breath to formulate a simple sentence. You then only nod, your cheek squished against the mattress, Jimin's hand still pushing down on your head.

His mouth hangs open to let out heavy breaths and his eyes are focused on your face, watching the little translucent pearls fall on your face and on the covers. Your pussy swallows all of his girth, clenching so tightly it has him groaning and saying profanities under his breath.

It's sick how it makes his cock so fucking hard, leaking so much pre-cum in you and twitching avidly by seeing you struggle to breathe. You crumple the bed sheets between your little fists, doing everything in your power to keep your ass up for Jimin and not slump down on the bed from the hard thrusts he's inflicting on you.

He snaps his hips against your ass and the entirety of his length is covered in your wetness, a white ring made of your cream circling the base of his cock.

His hand holding your head descends to your neck, enclosing it with his fingers, the coldness of his silver rings contrasting with the hotness of your sweaty skin. He squeezes a little, just a bit so you know who's in control, so you never forget Jimin controls you — that he controls your life and thoughts.

With a grip on your hair, he brings your torso up, arched back against his chest. The material of his shirt sticks to your skin, coated in a thin layer of sweat. He continues to pound into you, his cock sliding in and out of your pussy rapidly, as he holds you by the throat, lewdly licking a long stripe along the side of your face.

You shudder in desire, hair standing up on your delicate arms. "You're my little whore, aren't you, baby?" His mouth is right beside your ear as he whispers dirty things to you, his lips touching your hair, damp at the nape of your neck. "So fucking compliant... You want to please me so bad like the slut that you are," he mouths the words against your hair, cock pulsing hard in your cunt.

His free hand that doesn't have a hold around your throat slides down your body, passing over your belly and reaching your puffy clit. The sharp zipper of his pants graces the flesh just under your ass, irritating your skin and making it itchy.

You clench around him when his digits find your sensitive bud, circling it sensually and slowly, the complete opposite of his hip thrusts.

"Yes, want to please you, Jimin," you gasp, bucking your hips at the feeling of his rough fingertips on your pussy. He grunts when you address him by his name, loving how it sounds on your tongue, so sweet and timid.

He remembers the first time you moaned his name; you were sprawled across his expensive leather couch, blindfolded and hands attached together with his black tie. Intense for your first time with him, but it was also the last time he's ever been that gentle with you.

It was when his cold fingertips graced the skin of your stomach that you let out a squeak followed by his name, said in the quietest moan. He had then stopped his movements and looked at your face, an expression of distress painted over your features.

He had realized how frail and weak you actually were, needing your most important sense to be at ease. That's why he had blindfolded you, to show you how dependent you are of him, how impossible it is for you to live without him to guide you.

He pushes your jaw to the side so your lips can meet his in a feverish kiss, wet tongues mingling together, drool dripping down from the corners of your mouth. He continues to ram his cock in your now soppy and messy pussy, the sound of skin against skin resonating in the hotel room.

He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whimper and close your walls around his girth once again. Your little hands grip the material of his trousers, keeping him close and holding on to something because the hard cadence of his hip thrusts push you forward, breasts bouncing up on your chest.

"Fuck," he curses and he suddenly stops, steadying his hips against your butt. You let out a whiny moan as Jimin lets go of your face and hips.

You're sad to have your pleasure ripped away from you so hastily, but you don't have the time to complain, Jimin slipping out of your cunt and pushing you down violently on the mattress.

You turn around on your back to see him unbuttoning his dress shirt and throwing it on the floor, revealing to you his beautiful chest and defined abs. He gets rid of his pants and socks after, finally removing his boxers, the only things remaining on him being his rings and the watch crowning his right wrist.

His cock glistens in your juices, more pre-cum leaking from his swollen tip and twitching avidly against his stomach. Even though him fucking you while being all dressed and you completely bare is a way to humiliate and degrade you, he also likes to be naked sometimes.

He loves skin to skin contact, how your bodies stick together because of all the sweat coating you. It's addicting, it's rougher and it creates more friction — more pain.

He doesn't mind being naked too because he knows how to dominate you either way. He doesn't find it embarrassing, on the contrary, it makes him scarier and hungrier. While you shiver without your clothes on, curled up on yourself, Jimin is imposing, his cock thick and girthy enough to split you in half.

He crawls back to you, hovering over you like a predator had caught his prey, boring his eyes into yours. You look at him in awe, always waiting patiently. You feel his cock against your thigh, thick and veiny, your hole pathetically quivering — missing his size stretching out your pussy.

He sneaks a hand between your legs and reaches the little pink gem, ready to get it out. "Take a deep breath sweetheart," Jimin instructs and you inhale deeply.

He doesn't waste a second, pulling out the butt plug out of your ass. You scrunch your eyes shut at the pain, exhaling when it's done. He carefully sets it on the nightstand, coming back to you after.

He bends your legs over your stomach and looks at your ass, just begging him to fuck it, shining with lube and arousal that leaks from your pussy. His erect cock is just so close to it and Jimin could slide right in with one movement of his hips.

He lets go of one of your legs to grip his engorged erection, a little gasp escaping your lips when he presses the head of his cock at your tight hole, threatening to sink in.

"Sir," you sigh, not sure if you're ready for that. It always burns no matter how good you prepped before and he knows that. That's why he's so tempted, that he's staring so obsessively at your rim.

Will it hurt you? Will you grip his biceps in an attempt to dissuade him? He wants to see those tears falling from your eyes again, he wants to lick them and tastes your pain. He feels more blood rush to his penis at the mere thought of hurting you.

Give him all of your pain, he'll fucking take it whole and cherish it. He wants it — he needs it. Accuse him for having a sick and twisted mind, accuse him for everything you've ever been hurt by because he'll gladly take the blame.

"I know you can take it," he says in a low tone, glancing up at your face as he applies just a bit more pressure to your ass hole. "Can you, baby?" Jimin asks, waiting for you to admit how much you want it, how badly you want him to destroy you.

"Yes..." You whisper back, a long shiver running up your spine as his eyes pierce through you.

"Yes, what? Tell me, sweetheart," he demands, and it's as if he doesn't care about your response whatsoever because the next thing he does makes you yelp in pain.

His tip has entered you, the burning sensation forcing you to scrunch your eyes shut, your instinct thinking it'll protect you.

"Yes, I- I can..." you stutter and as expected, you dig your nails in the flesh of his biceps — only fair to hurt him in return. "I can take your cock in my ass..."

You take a sharp breath, eyes slowly opening, all watery and painful. Jimin groans at that, stuffing more of himself in your hole. "Good girl," he praises, voice raspy, ending with a deep grunt.

He stretches you out completely, his dick in no comparison to the toys you've used to prepare yourself. You open your mouth as he pushes himself in gradually, tears streaming down your face when you blink.

The tears roll down the side of your face and Jimin can't help but be turned on, leaning in to kiss your face and collect some of your tears, tasting the saltiness of them on his tongue.

"Jimin...!" You look at him with the saddest and most hurtful gaze, tears rolling down your face. "It burns," you add in a quiet voice, now scratching his back, leaving long red trails on his skin.

"I know, baby, I know," he softly murmurs in your ear, a husky moan leaving his mouth when he's completely nestled in you, balls touching your ass. "You're so tight, fuck," he sucks air through his teeth, not moving until he estimates he's waited long enough.

He gives warm and wet kisses to your neck, descending to your collarbones and groping your breasts, slowly starting to move his hips. You lock your legs behind his back, wanting him as close to you as possible despite the pain he's inflicting on you.

He loves knowing it hurts you because it makes it more pleasurable to him somehow. The pain will go away soon anyway, that's why he doesn't bother to stop or slow down. You have to get used to the feeling first.

He wouldn't go too far to hurt you. The choking, the hair pulling, the smacks... He keeps it for the bedroom, but he won't lie that there's a part of him that wants to ruin your life, ruin everything you've accomplished so far just so he can see those sad eyes of yours and hear you ask him for help out of desperation.

It's not even sexual, he just wants to break you, that's all he desires. Though your life is something he wants to destroy, it's more of a way to have you dependant on him after. If your career is no longer successful, your solution is Jimin because he's the only person in your life capable of taking care of you both emotionally and physically.

His teeth chew on the tender skin of your neck while his hand travels all over your body, many veins popping out along his strong arm. The cool sensation of his rings on your stomach makes you shiver, his finger gently circling your clit to make the pain more bearable.

His cock slides in your hole back and forth, your ass slowly but surely taking the size of girth. Many curses leave Jimin's mouth, your ass probably the best he's ever fucked. You feel so good around him, you're tight, but you loosen easily, making it so, so pleasurable for him.

His hand that was roaming over your body comes to close around your throat and he turns his head to your side, lips brushing over your temple. "Yeah, just like that, baby," he mutters under his breath, his nose pressing down on your hair as he murmurs the words to you. "Just like that..."

A choked moan is all you can respond, eyes rolling back in your skull as Jimin splits your ass open, fucking his thick cock into you. His hot breath hits the side of your face, his chest heaving rapidly while you claw at his back, white scratches appearing on his skin.

He sweetly kisses your temple as he pounds into you, not tightening his hand around your throat, just holding you in place — always letting you know that he is always in control.

Your tits slightly bounce up and down on your chest, little whines coming out of you each time Jimin bottoms out. It starts feeling good for you — really good — and you think that this pleasure is totally worth a bit of pain at the beginning.

You grip the hair at the nape of his neck and bring him in for a kiss. He accepts it, kissing you back as if he wants to possess your whole mouth, biting and licking your lips. You moan into his mouth, twisting his hair between your fist and sinking your nails into the flesh of his back.

He backs away from you a little, his plump lips glistening in both of your saliva, and places his two palms on your boobs. He feels your perky nipples under his hands, just loving how plushy your breasts are, fitting perfectly in his palms.

He keeps thrusting in you as he gropes your tits and you bring your hands over his, looking into each other's eyes. He lowly groans, holding eye-contact with you.

You feel his veins under your palms, your pussy clenching around nothing but air while you run your hands all over his arms. You enjoy the sensations of his pulsing veins under your small fingers as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, staring into Jimin's dark eyes.

"Jimin..." You moan his name, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of his hard cock entering and exiting your tight hole. Jimin takes the opportunity to smooch your neck again as you expose it to him, his full lips delicately pressing down on your throat. "I love it," you sigh pleasantly.

He hums, the sound coming deep from his throat. He wants to hurt you, yes, but he likes it even more when you love the pain. He just knew you were exactly like him when he first saw you. He had the feeling that you needed someone like him, someone that'd push you to your limits and make you discover a new type of pleasure.

And he was right because there's not one time where you told him to stop.

"My dirty girl," he purrs in response, bringing his lips up to your jaw. He slowly rolls your nipples between his fingertips, pinching and pulling on them. "You're stupid, but so, so good for me, baby," he groans in your ear, gritting his teeth as he feels his balls tightening.

He slowly halts his hips movements, letting out heavy breaths as he eventually pulls out of you. You gasp when he does so, already missing his cock stretching out your ass.

You're both trying to catch your breaths, Jimin raising himself up from you and getting out of the bed. His erection stands tall against his stomach, bouncing up as he walks to the front of the bed.

You watch him getting away until he orders you to follow him. "Come here," he says softly and you don't make him wait. "On your knees," Jimin commands when you're facing him, sinking down to your knees after.

He places a hand behind your head and the other around the base of his dick, guiding the head of his cock toward your lips as he pushes down on your head.

"Here, baby," he instructs in a low voice. "Take it in your mouth." You part your lips to welcome Jimin's length, his bulbous tip shining in pre-cum and your juices under the light of the hotel room.

He immediately moans when he enters the warmth of your mouth, his heavy cock sliding on your wet tongue. He doesn't let you have much control, pushing his dick in your mouth until your nose touches his pubic hair.

You relax your jaw for Jimin, allowing him to stuff your mouth full of his cock. He looks down at you, watching the way your lips wrap around him tightly, your eyes starting to water. He still holds the back of your head with one hand, guiding you over his stiff erection and you moan obscenely around Jimin, drool dripping down on your chin.

He begins to fuck your mouth, forcing you to take the whole thing each time he bottoms out. He moves his hips back and forth, obsessed with the way his girth appears and reappears between your lips as he uses your mouth as he pleases.

"Shit," he hisses when you hollow your cheeks, making it more pleasurable for him. "You're a fucking cockslut, aren't you, baby?" He says breathily, his eyes not once leaving his cock penetrating your mouth over and over again.

You whine around him, surely agreeing with what he said. It sends deliciously vibrations through his entire body, the sounds of your moans and hearing you gag around him is so arousing to him. He wants to hear more so he literally uses your mouth like a toy, snapping his hips against you, his balls slapping your chin.

He lets out a deep moan, your cheeks now damp and eyelashes all wet because of your tears, eyes stinging as Jimin fucks your throat like a mad man.

"Stroke your clit," he manages to say between two heavy breaths. "You can get off by yourself, right? I know you're soaking wet just by letting me use that pretty mouth of yours," he mocks you, but he knows he's right. Whatever he does, your cunt is always dripping wet.

You whimper again, doing what he told you to and sneaking a hand between your thighs to play with your pussy. You part your legs wider as you circle your clit with your finger, Jimin's hooded eyes lazily watching you playing with yourself.

Your right hand is laying on his thigh while the other is operating between your legs, pleasuring yourself to the sounds of Jimin's moans and the feeling of his stiff cock weighing down on your tongue.

You do your best to breathe through your nose, swallowing around his length and flattening your tongue underneath him. Your juices drip down your inner thighs, your finger flickering over your sensitive bud smoothly because of your arousal.

The whole room is smelling like sex, an odour that Jimin can't ignore, loving it so much. Your lips glide so easily over his hard cock, completely covered in your spit and still some of your wetness, tasting yourself on him.

"Ah, fuck," he curses, his head rolling back on his shoulders, eyes still strained down on you. He feels the familiar burning sensation at the pit of his stomach, indicating he's really close to his orgasm. He stops thrusting in you. "Go on the bed, baby."

You're taken aback, but you follow his order, pulling him out of your mouth and laying your back down on the mattress close to the edge. You beautifully moan when Jimin penetrates your pussy a second time, bending your legs over your stomach.

"Oh, god," you cry softly, being pounded onto the bed by him right away, tits moving up and down on your chest.

His hands are positioned on each side of your shoulders, snapping his hips against yours so harshly you feel your skin stinging. You keep doing circle motions on your clit, now faster and impatient to reach your high.

You let out a high-pitched moan when Jimin suddenly steadies his hips over yours, dropping down to his elbows as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. "Holy fuck," he grunts, gripping the bed sheets tightly in fists beside your head as his cock twitches in your pussy.

"Yes, yes," you quietly exclaim, your clitoral orgasm passing through you, making you arch your back and buck your hips.

Your hole clenches repeatedly around him and he finally comes undone into you, shooting long, thick ropes of cum deep into you. He empties himself in your wet cunt, cumming just after you.

When he slips out of you, more spurts out of his tip, landing on your pussy, covering it in his creamy cum. You moan at the warm sensation, always loving how it feels both in and on you. Some of his seeds dribble out of you, dripping down to your ass.

He stays above you for some time, catching his breath and looking at the mess he made on you. He stares up at your face, seeing how fucked up you look, hair in a nest and eyes reddened.

Later, Jimin is in the shower, washing his hair and his body, passing a soft cloth soaked in soap over his chest. He lets the water fall over his head, wetting his black locks. He stays maybe a bit longer than normally, staring at the tiled wall.

He thinks about you, about all the things he's planned. He revised everything in his head, imagining you walk on the podium wearing his design, people looking at his piece with admiration in their eyes.

He thinks about all of that that will go down for you after the show, getting fired, losing your career and your fans. Many articles talking about your excessive use of alcohol and drugs, saying how tired and sad you look beside Jimin.

You won't last long, you're too weak anyway. A downfall like this is unconquerable, nobody recovers from that, and surely not a model who will be thrown out of the industry as soon as you turn twenty-five.

Jimin knows the industry, he's been in it for years now. He's aware of how cruel it is, how difficult and harsh it can be on fragile little girls like you.

But that's why he's here, to take care of you once nobody will want you anymore. That's the goal, after all; you to be finally his — solely and completely his.

"Jimin?"

Your voice reaches him, turning his head in your direction, seeing you hesitantly entering the shower with him. He opens his arms, inviting you to come closer and you do, hugging him and laying your head down on his wet chest.

"I love you, sweetheart," he softly murmurs against your hair. "I'll never leave you, you know that, right?"

You nod your head, looking up at him and meeting his gaze. "I love you, too."

๑♡՞

A F T E R

The runway went incredibly well. Celebrities and journalists were all gathered for the fall show, totally amazed by every design and the models that were wearing them.

But there was one specific piece that everyone was willing to say was the best.

Jimin was satisfied to see that his name stood out among everyone else's, being called more times than Dior itself. He predicted it; it was the creation that every guest remembered, the dress that the fans were only talking about.

He'd take all the credit, he was the one who imagined it and then sewed it after all, but he has to admit that you had contributed to the fame a lot.

Being the beloved face of Dior only made people talk more about it and that was what Jimin needed.

But everything has an end, doesn't it?

When Jimin comes back to his apartment, the place is silent except for the TV playing, as he thought it would be. You're looking through the window, watching the city living at night while it's raining. You're sitting on the sofa, not even acknowledging his presence as he enters, getting rid of his shoes.

You're not much of a talker since you've been fired from Dior a few days ago just after the fall show. He understands your wish of remaining silent, needing a bit of space to process everything that has happened the past weeks in your small head.

It was going to happen soon enough anyway. You've been to your photoshoots completely drunk, sometimes just going in with a hangover, but of course it didn't help your case at all.

Jimin was guilty for letting you drink alcohol so soon in the morning. No need to deny it, he was even the one for dropping you off at work like that. Well, he had to do it if he wanted people to notice how far you've fallen.

He doesn't feel bad, though. Your career wasn't going to last with Jimin's sabotage or not. He did you a favour, you should be thankful.

You can't handle being a model. If you could, none of that would have happened. You wouldn't have gained weight, you would have been suspicious of the amount of calories Jimin was feeding you. The bottle of wine wouldn't have been so tempting and smoking weed wouldn't have ever occurred to you as a good idea.

Some people can, others can't and you're one of them. You shouldn't be ashamed of it, sometimes things just don't work out like we would have wanted them to.

"Did you see the article they wrote about me?" You ask, already knowing he's walking up to you without looking. "You surely did, I bet that's all they're talking about..."

He sits down beside you and you eventually turn around, facing him. You care so much about what others think of you. It must be so tiring having such a low self-esteem. He can only imagine it; seeing you look through the window like a sad puppy, your life finally making sense when Jimin comes home.

"I did, but nothing of that matters to me," he answers, the most honest he's ever been. And even if he had to lie, it's not like you wouldn't have believed him. You always trust whatever he says.

You don't reply, your head still filled with many thoughts.

"Hey, come here," he softly tells you, patting his thigh. You straddle his lap, setting your hands on his shoulders. He cups your chin, forcing you to look at him as you keep avoiding his gaze. "Whatever they say, whatever their name is, nothing will ever be more important than you."

Because who is he if he lets some article affect the way he sees you? He's known you since the beginning of your career and he stayed til the end of it.

He knows you better than everyone else. He was with you during your highs and lows and he'll still be there for the next ones. There's nothing in the world that could make him leave you. After everything he's done to have you, there's no way he'll go away.

How cowardly of him if he does. He can't leave when he's promised he'd heal you — close all of your past wounds and create other ones.

He may be selfish, but there's one thing that he isn't and it's a fucking liar. He sticks to his words, and when he says he'll never leave you, that means he'll never, never abandon you — he'll never leave your side, not even once. He can't risk it.

๑♡՞

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taglist: @mcsalterego @blueberryarchive @gyukookswhore @bloopkook @ot72025 @mrsminho @ownthesunshine @dahliadaenerys

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jimin imagines #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #jimin smut #jimin x reader #jimin fic

[buckybabieboy]

So I've read several smut fics about Bucky's first time after 70+ years but never a combination of these:

- touch starved Bucky, him begging the reader to touch him where he needs it the most

- him being iper sensitive, just a simple touch makes him whimper

- cumming a lot, reader can't even manage to suck him or stroke him properly

- still being hard after cumming several times

- he's just a moaning mess who needs attention, his metal hand isn't enough anymore

- his thrusts getting harder and deeper while he loses himself in the feeling, not even able to form a sentence

...could you please write something like this? If the f!reader and Bucky are friends, friends with benefits, in a relationship, how it starts, how it ends... it's up to you.

Wow. Here goes nothin’ BAHAHA.

Starved.

⚠️TW: NSFW, sub!touch-starved!bucky, dom!fem!reader, blowjob(m!receiving,) p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, slight overstimulation, cockwarming, Bucky being a touch starved and needy little thing, much more lol just read it

☁️Summary: You make Bucky cum for the first time(s) in over 70+ years. Your touch starved little baby.

📝A/N: Thx for this request babie. I tried my very hardest to include everything in here! P.S: I’ve been a very busy person lately, which meant no time for writing. I’m so very sorry! You guys sending in requests really motivates me though. <3 I even used some of your exact words if you look closely, anon ;)

You and Bucky had a relationship that was indescribable. He was honest and open around you, which was something that nobody else could ever say. Wherever you were, so was he, and you didn’t have a problem with that. 

During the time you’ve spent getting to know Bucky, you’ve come to 2 conclusions; James Buchanan Barnes was a broken and damaged man, but that will never mean he’s any less worthy of love. You also noticed a certain desperation in him. The slightest touch would make him go rigid.

You can recall multiple occasions where you’d grab his hand, kiss his head, or simply pull him in for a hug and he’d be all flustered and glossy-eyed. He’d beg you to do those things again. To touch him literally anywhere. It didn’t matter where because to him, any sensation was a good sensation, just as long as it came from you.

Which led you to your second conclusion; Bucky was longing for touch. He was a touch starved, delicate, little thing that just needed to be taken care of. And you had no problem being the one to fulfill his needs. 

As of right now, Bucky has made himself comfortable in your arms, eyelids shut and mouth agape as he indulges in your soft, delicate touch. He’s on your lap and facing you, so you notice even the slightest twitches of his beautifully flushed face. Your fingertips slowly scratch at his scalp, and you feel him fall limp in your arms, as if he’d given himself up to you.

“l- I love that, y/n. please don’t stop...” Bucky mumbles. 

“when you touch me.. f-feels like m’ floating...” Bucky continues to babble and whimper from your simple movements. He’s literally shaking in your lap, which makes your mind wander into filthy places. You’re still awed about how the simplest touches from you make him go mad.

“yeah? feels good?” You ask quietly in response, and he nods his head yes. You feel subtle, but noticeable movements against the skin of your right thigh. His metal fingers were lightly tapping your thigh, as if he needed something to hold on to, to ground him here on earth so that his now ‘normal’ headspace wouldn’t become a fuzzy and floaty one.

“my sweet boy..” you whisper to him, brushing his hair away from his face and behind his ear. He gives you a weary and desperate look in response, and you give him a soft kiss on the nose as an attempt to calm him down. You began to feel something on your thigh again, but it wasn’t his metal fingers. You look down and see Bucky grinding against your thigh, whimpering and hyperventilating while doing so.

“f-fuck, I c-can’t! need more…” Bucky whimpers, hot tears falling from his baby blue eyes. He was so frustrated that he could never do it for himself, it was humiliating for him. You know he’s tried to cum by himself, but his metal hand just wasn’t enough. Poor little baby just couldn’t get himself there, and he needed you to do it. You wipe his tears with your thumb and begin to shush him. He was stiff in his pants, and the fact that he was wearing his comfy gray sweats didn’t make it any less obvious.

“shh… you’re okay James. What is it that you need, hm?”

Your voice was soft and delicate to his ears, which was something that Bucky appreciated. He was feeling so many things right now, it was all so overstimulating for him, but you’re sweet, sultry voice reminded him that he was okay.

“please do something. anything! it hurts, y/n… make it stop, please…”He whimpered, avoiding your eyes. His cock was leaked and stained his sweats.

 His whimpers have gotten even more high pitched as he’s become more desperate for you. You palm him through his sweats which makes him jolt in your lap, practically screaming at the sensation. You haven’t even touched him yet and he’s already so spent.

“get up, baby. gonna take care of you now.” You whisper to him. He gets off of you and sits on the edge of your shared bed as you get down on your knees in front of him. You take off his shirt and undo the drawstring to his sweats, taking them off along with his boxers. You stare at his body in awe. He was so beautiful, so ethereal. All his scars and bruises were so perfect in your eyes. Even that metal arm of his, the one that he would be insecure about from time to time. Your eyes trail down to his aching cock, loads of precum having spilled out from before.

You get up to kiss him on his adorably pink lips before coming back down to leave a trail of kisses down both his trembling thighs.

“y/n, please! Please touch my cock, I need you there!” Bucky yelps at the feeling of your soft, plush lips kissing his legs. He’s so sensitive and whiny, just needing you to touch him where he needs it most. You hum in response and move up to his twitching cock. You plant a kiss on his tip, causing him to let out a gasp and buck his hips up towards you. You notice how stimulated and sensitive his cock is, which wasn’t very surprising. His cock must be aching from being hard and not releasing for so long.

“you’re so hard, sweet boy...let me know if it’s too much, okay?” You say before taking his red tip into your mouth, sucking on it softly. You make sure to make your movements slow at first, not wanting to overwhelm him. The moment your soft, moist lips wrap around him, you hear him stifle a pathetic whimper. When you’re halfway down his shaft, you begin play with his balls with one of your hands.

“keep goin… please don’t stop!” Bucky cries, both his hands gripping the sheets. You finally take his whole cock in your wet mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you go. Bucky had no idea such ecstasy existed; the feeling of your wet tounge on his sensitive cock was almost driving him mad. You could feel his poor cock pulsating in your mouth, which motivated you to continue your movements. You reach down into your shorts and rub yourself through your soaked panties. You didn’t even notice how wet Bucky’s pathetic sobs and whimpers made you.

“f-fuck, y/n that's so good! feels so, so good! gonna make me c-cum!” Bucky continues to babble and cry, the poor little baby couldn’t even manage to speak one complete sentence. He was literally finding it hard to breathe because of the way you were making him feel. This would be the first time in over 70 years since he’s last had an orgasm, so he could feel every little thing. Every flick of your tounge, the vibrations of your moans, the way your fingers fondled with his balls. 

Bucky’s chest rises and falls as he pants heavily, shaking and trembling as he cums in your mouth, his cum painting the back of your throat. He didn’t even notice how much he was cumming until he felt the cold air hit his sensitive cock after you let it out of your mouth. Replacing your mouth with your hand, you start to pump him. Loads of cum continue to spurt out of his cock in long white strings, coating your hand and his spasming thighs. 

“y/n...can’t stop..” Bucky whimpers wearily as he thrusts his hips rapidly into your fist.  

“awh, can’t stop cumming, sweet boy?” you coo at him, continuing to pump his spasming cock, milking him for all he’s got. His cock and your hand were now painted white with his cum. Once you’ve pumped out the last of his creamy warm liquid, you sit next to him on the bed so you could check on him. He immediately falls into your arms, whimpering and babbling like a little baby. 

“need more..wan-wanna be inside you...please? please let me be inside you, i need it!” Bucky cried. Your sweet baby boy was sobbing, visibly frustrated because he still wasn’t satisfied, and you didn’t expect him to be after only one orgasm.

“shh, of course you can, baby. you can have anything you want.” you assure him, understanding how overwhelming this all must be for him. You take his hands in yours and kiss them, and an adorably pathetic whine escapes from him.

His precious eyes glistened, tears falling from them. He was so desperate for you; he’d probably take anything you gave him at this point.  You take off your clothes before scooting back on the bed, laying down and spreading your legs for him. You smile at how Bucky just stares at you, eyes wide at the sight of your wet, glistening pussy.  

“you can touch me, y’know” Bucky's precious turquoise eyes narrow at your words, as if he wasn't certain this was real, as if none of this was, and he was merely dreaming of this euphoria he was experiencing right now. Before you knew it, he’s scrambling to get above you as he thanks you over and over again.

 His flesh fingers glide over your silky skin, traveling from your cheek, down to your neck, before hesitating over your boobs. His cheeks have become flushed, and you giggle softly at how adorable he is. You take his hand in yours and place them on your tender breast, and you watch at how his once flustered and shy expression became a hungry and erotic one.  You give him a soft kiss on his plush lips before gently grabbing his aching cock and aligning it with your entrance.

“m’ ready whenever you are, baby” you coo. Bucky nods his head in response, and slowly enters you. He gasps at the sensation and remains motionless inside of you for some time as he tries to get used to the intense and overwhelming sensation of your warmth.

 “too much f’you?”  You ask him, more than willing to call it quits if he wanted to. Your main focus was to keep him comfortable. You only receive a breathy “nuh uh” in response, and before you knew it, Bucky was pounding into you relentlessly. “Bucky!” You moan blissfully, throwing your head back against your pillow, and wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him even closer.

“f-fuck y/n, s-so warm! feels so good!” Bucky slurs as he continues to jackhammer into you, the feeling of your wet pussy tightening around his cock sending him into overdrive. He buries his head into your neck, whimpering and whining for you. 

You bring your hands to his hair, tangling your fingers in his soft brown locks, which is something that Bucky couldn’t get enough of. You were practically screaming at the way he thrusted in and out of you rapidly. Each time he’d thrust back into you, he’d hit that spot inside you that sends you right over the edge.

“Bucky, you’re doing so well, making me feel so good!” you praise him. He rutted into you even harder at your praise. The sounds you were both making were those of a pornographic film, one you would definitely watch.

 Bucky was a pathetic, babbling mess for you, tears streaming down his face from how good you feel.

“m-my cock... s-so deep inside you...!” Your sweet boy was so pussy drunk; he couldn’t form a complete sentence. His thrusts only got harder and deeper as he loses himself in your feeling. He sobbed, the thought of filling you with every last drop of his cum making his balls tighten. 

“fuckfuckfuck, so close! can I please cum in you? can i? want to cum in you, y/n! I need it!” Bucky pleaded as he continued railing into you balls deep like a savage animal. 

“Go on, sweet baby. cum in me, fill me up.” You say between heavy pants. Your back arches, your hips meeting his as you chase your own orgasm. Bucky’s mind went blank as he released his load into you, his cock pulsating extremely fast in your pussy, which in turn makes you cum right after him. He never stopped his thrusts into your now sensitive and fucked out pussy.

“James, too much okay? m’ sensitive..’’ you mumble shakily, trying to recover from that intense orgasm you just had. 

 “please, y/n.. one more, just feels so good..”

 You nod your head, giving him permission to cum a second time. You tried to pay no mind to how overstimulated you are as Bucky begins to fuck you into the bed, chasing his orgasm for the third time today. He gripped your hips and angled you so he could get deeper inside you. 

You scrunch your face in discomfort at the almost unbearable sensations you were feeling, but the pain quickly subsided into an undeniable pleasure. Your legs begin to tremble around Bucky’s waist, and you bite your lip to stifle a whimper.

Bucky leaned down to bury his face in your neck again, and you felt hot tears fall onto your skin. He wanted to scream out-- his third orgasm was only seconds away, but he couldn’t manage any words. Only broken and pathetic whimpers came from him, as he railed in and out of you, over and over again, neither of you caring how overstimulated you were. An intense shiver runs down your spine and through your body. You almost couldn’t take it anymore, the feeling of his swollen cock hitting your g-spot making you lose all control,

“fuck Bucky, gonna make me cum again!” You wail. You can feel that he’s close too, his cock twitching madly inside your velvety walls. Bucky lets out the most broken and pathetic cry as he bites your shoulder, making you wince slightly.

“y/n..feels so good, feels so fucking good..” Bucky cries softly in between thrusts. “f-fuck! m’ gonna cum inside you again!”

“go ahead, baby. m’ right behind you..” You whisper as you stare at his beautifully fucked out face, nearing your orgasm as well. His thrusts become sloppier and more desperate as he cries out for you.

 You watch Bucky’s eyes roll back as his warm cum fills you up. You follow after him, pussy fluttering around his pulsating shaft. Your liquid drips out your pussy and onto the bed. He thrusts in you balls deep a few more times before falling limp on top of you, cock still buried inside you. 

You and Bucky were both too exhausted to move as you lay there panting heavily. Your fingers massage his sweaty scalp, and his breathing begins to even out slowly.

“that was so.. you made me feel so-” Bucky tries to speak, but only manages to make a few words come out. You kiss his head softly, and he sighs contently as you continue to play with his hair. 

“you did so well, Jamie...” You praise him before looking at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside you.

“come on, Buck. It’s getting late. let’s clean up, okay?” 

Bucky shakes his head no at your words as he buries his face deeper into your neck. 

“don’t wanna pull out just yet. you feel so warm..” Bucky mumbles, pulling the covers over the both of you. He was already exhausted from cumming all those times today, and the feeling of your fingers playing with his hair ever so softly made him even more sleepy. Just this once you would make the exception of sleeping on sheets this dirty. If it were anyone else you would have refused immediately. 

“okay love, we’ll stay here for a while then.” you coo at him, shifting slightly and relaxing in the position you were in. Bucky lets out the cutest little yawn, and a few moments after, begins to softly snore. You stay there, watching your little baby looking the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.

#buckybabieboy #sub!bucky barnes #dom!reader #sub bucky barnes #sebastian stan #imagines #marvel #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #touch starved #female reader #needy bucky x reader #sub bucky barnes x you #sub bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky blurb #bucky smut #captain america #bucky imagine #subby bucky #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes blurb #tfatws #chubby dumpling

[thedevilspearl]

➛ out of office hours

a/n: been craving a ceo!luci for so long so i decided to write it myself and i’m in love with him >_< am also thinking about him falling in love with you and i just—! <333333

tags: 4.2k words, ceo!lucifer x secretary!reader, female reader, dom!lucifer, oral sex (male and female receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex, cumming inside, ass slapping, degradation, praise, multiple orgasms, overstimulation. minors do not interact!

you always felt the need for professionalism in your role as a secretary. especially with a boss as hot as yours.

he was terrifying at first, you will admit that. but having the raven–haired man bare down at you with those unruly eyes was the most exciting thing about the job. from the beginning, he watched you closely, his gaze raking up and down your form, taking in the way you do things so perfectly.

your profession is simple enough; organising files, preparing his documents, reading and directing e–mails and scheduling all of lucifer’s appointments are the routine kind of things you do.

but every now and then, a splash of wild colour enters the monotonous life as a secretary, and you find yourself on your knees beneath your cold and grumpy boss.

“that’s it,” lucifer sighs. “just like that.”

today was a world–wind of emotions for both you and lucifer. as the ceo, he is bound to have days filled with stress. and on those days, your bound to feel it tenfold as you are the one doing all of the work behind the scenes, supporting him as best you can.

through all the excessively long and draining meetings and the ruthlessly hectic business environment, you both managed to make it back in the office, despite it being late into the evening, long after business had closed for the day.

he finishes up some work on his computer, work you will need to catch up on later, and hums from the warmth of your mouth running up and down his cock. he relaxes into his chair, no longer paying attention to his screen and looks down at you tucked snugly under his desk.

squeezed in the space between his thighs, you forge eye contact with him as he brushes his hair back with slender fingers, revealing a slightly sweaty forehead and reddened cheeks.

you’re aware of how hard he tries to maintain the classic ceo persona — an emotionless robot who cares only for money and power — but when he’s with you, when he’s fucking you and using you and allowing you to use him how you please….it’s a marvel, to say the least.

his blush is enhanced with the ruby glimmers in his irises but the dark, lustful entity behind those eyes spur you on.

a mixture of whispery groans and praises escape him and you take it as your signal to suck in harder, then to tease him by pulling back and swirling your tongue around his cock, paying extra attention to his sensitive tip before taking him whole in your mouth again.

“mmh….fuck, keep doing it like that.” he orders and you obey.

you wonder if the pleasure you thrust upon him is what takes his moodiness away. seeing him slip into his relaxed self, his greedy and self–indulgent self while he gets off on your mouth is surely a sight no one else would see.

as far as you know, you’re the only one who does these things with him.

not that it’s an exclusive relationship, but lucifer has expressed he would only do such things with people he trusts and you happen to be one of them. conveniently, the only one he has regular access to.

and that’s how this situation began.

it’s rare, but every now and then when either of you need relief, you use each other. there are rules in place, of course. there always are with a man like lucifer.

the typical things like no strings attached and no kissing.

but your least favourite rule is no fucking.

feelings, kissing and fucking: all three of them would decimate the professional boundaries you have in place.

but that’s not to say you don’t have fun without all of that.

using your hands and mouths on each other is satisfying enough. and the opportunity to even look at lucifer’s cock, let alone suck him dry, is more akin to a blessing.

the feel of his cock in your mouth will never grow old. you hollow your cheeks, sucking harder and humming so the vibrations can send waves of pleasure up his cock and into his body. he twitches, rutting his hips into you, no longer restraining himself.

his hand plants itself into you scalp, using your head as he pleases until hot cum blasts into your mouth and his hips stutter between your lips. you watch with wide eyes as his face contorts in pleasure, and you feel your panties grow more soaked in your arousal.

you had already removed your shoes and blazer, but while you swallow the remnants of lucifer’s cum, you unbutton your shirt and kick off your skirt, leaving your bra and panties for him to remove. he steadily reaches behind you, not breaking eye contact, and unclasps your bra.

his dark orbs finally move away from yours, only to remain stuck on you breasts and perky nipples. you don’t miss the swipe of tongue across his lips; he’s hungry.

pulling him from his trance, you work on his own shirt, unbuttoning and pulling it from him with zeal. he meets your eagerness by pushing you down on his desk, tracing his fingers over your ankles and up your calves. he leaves kisses along the inside of your thighs, promising to go further.

and when he reaches the apex, he chuckles softly at the soaked stain leaking through your panties. you bare your wetness proudly, and his cock twitches knowing it’s all due to him. one chaste kiss over your panties causes you to quiver and a moment later, your panties are ripped from you.

your pussy glistens in the dimmed light of his office and your boss, who is a man with little time, wastes none when it comes to devouring you.

his hot mouth collides with your already burning pussy and you whine wantonly. he slobbers all over you, mixing your arousal with his own saliva before sucking it all back into his mouth. his tongue tickles between your folds, swiping up and down and swirling circles at the top where your most sensitive part hides.

and just when your clit is ready to explode with pleasure and send it adrift throughout your body, he smacks harsh, wet kisses on your lips, sucking and nibbling like his life depends on it.

“fuck! lucifer!” you squeal. “please make me cum!”

he buries his head deep between your thighs and you lock him in. you yearn for release and grind your hips into his face, to which he responds by licking and sucking your pussy with more vigour. and as you rock your pussy on his face, the pleasure builds up and explodes in an electrifying burst.

ripples of exultation flood your body, nourishing your flesh with the meaning of true bliss; a cause for you nerves to jubilate and rejoice. sparks dance along your skin and lucifer pulls away, gasping between your trembling thighs with his face glossed over from your pussy.

he kisses his way up slowly, leaving marks on your stomach and giving special attention to your breasts. he eyes you as he takes each nipple one after the other, and sucks. falling onto your elbows, you throw your head back and attempt to catch your breath, but lucifer makes that difficult as his lips snake up the skin of your neck and capture your lips in his own.

the sweet taste of your essence coats your tongue, but what surprises you more is how casual lucifer’s lips feel against yours. it’s the first kiss you’ve shared, yet it feels like you’ve kissed him a million times before, like he’s the only man you should ever kiss.

tiny cracks appear in the set of rules. he shouldn’t have kissed you, and you most certainly should not be kissing him back.

but you wrap your arms around his shoulders, silently telling him you are fine with this. more than fine, actually. you would rather die than move away from him now.

wrapped so closely together, embraced in each other’s lips and arms, it feels like it should be no other way.

his tongue reaches in and toys with yours in a playful fight for dominance and you hope this forbidden kiss could last forever, but you pull back slight when his cock rubs against your sensitive clit.

a single look to him to ask what he is doing earns a single look from him, signifying what he wants next.

you shouldn’t.

you absolutely should not do this.

but no matter how many times you remind yourself how wrong it is in these few short moments, your body speaks for itself and you nod. lucifer’s shoulders visibly relax, as if he was scared you would say no.

you can’t feel guilty about this, not when lucifer wants it as much as you. he strokes his cock, eyes furrowed from the battle waging in his mind. he’s as conflicted as you, but in times like this, he is hopeless in the fight against his lust.

“are you sure you want this?”

“yes,” you gasp. “are you?”

“i wouldn’t have gotten this far if i didn’t.”

you hesitate for a moment, but he assures you with his charming words, whether they speak the truth or otherwise.

“you needn’t worry about the repercussions. this is purely for stress relief.”

you’re sure the sinking feeling in your chest is a bad sign, knowing it hurts that all of this is just for the release of pent up stress. but still, your body is greedy enough to bury that bitter hesitance deep down and replace it with more lust.

“then stop talking and do it,” you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer so his cock prods your entrance. “don’t take your time with me, lucifer. i’m not a patient woman.”

his softness is gone instantaneously and like a flash of lightening, you are shocked by how quickly he can switch from his relaxed and vulnerable side to his authoritative and commanding façade.

“you ought to show more respect to your boss,” he leans down, close enough for his lips to graze your ear. “you’ve forgotten your manners.”

“i hardly think manners are necessary. with this, at least.”

“hm, well, you see,” he taunts. “i won’t give you anything unless you ask for it nicely. and you’re not a patient woman, so how long are you going to wait for it?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. you’d gotten caught up in the heat of the moment, hoping lucifer would hop straight into fucking you senseless. but you forgot how much of a control freak he is, and how everything happens his way or it doesn’t happen at all.

you hoped the lenience and generosity he has for you would work in your favour, but apparently not.

“i don’t need to ask again,” he warns. “tell me what you want and say please.”

you bite your lip, glaring at him daringly but a single stern look puts you in your place and speaking the words you both desperately need to hear.

“please, i want you to fuck me.”

he stares you dead in the eye as he utters another order.

“say it again.”

“please, lucifer,” you whine. “fuck me, please!”

in a moment’s turn, he flips you so your feet touch the ground and his large hand on your lower back pushes you into the edge of his desk, while the other lines his cock with your sopping entrance.

he slips in, teasing you and earning a moan as he slowly rocks his hips, entering you further with each roll of his hips.

you push your body against him, and his cock digs further into your pussy. you keep rocking, both in unison until his cock is deep enough for you to scream his name.

“lucifer—ah!”

your squeal is cut short when he ruts into you again, slamming his hips against your ass and groaning from the tight warmth of your pussy enveloping his aching cock.

both of you are so lost in the wonders of each other’s body that the abrupt, high–pitched chiming almost goes unnoticed.

shrill ringing of the telephone on lucifer’s desk threatens to dampen the mood. but lucifer’s cock has only just entered and you’re not far away from the best part of the night. to hell with the phone call, lest it disturb your secret pleasure time with your boss.

“what are you waiting for?” lucifer rubs your hips with a subtle but notable thrust of his own. “aren’t you going to answer it?”

“what—ah?!” you gasp, doing your utmost to stay upright on his desk while he pounds into you. but your elbows have turned feeble from your orgasm, trembling as you try to hold yourself up with them. “i can’t do that!”

“answer it.”

his curt order is enough to make you obey, as is the harsh grip on your ass cheek. you lean over the desk a little further, reaching for the phone. this is a terrible idea but you can’t seem to break free of the spell lucifer has cast on you — you’d obey every last one of his orders.

“h–hello?”

in the process of lucifer figuratively rearranging your guts, he seems to have also turned your brain to mush and you cannot comprehend the words coming from the speaker.

all you can feel is lucifer, and how he hovers lower and lower, leaning down on your body until you’re squished between him and his desk. he grinds his hips into you, leaving chaste kisses along your shoulder blade and when he is flush against your ear, he whispers.

“focus.”

but you’re incapable of doing anything, including focusing on the phone call.

you have a client in one ear, and your boss in the other ear. neither of which can hear the other, but what is certain is that they can both hear you muffling your moans with a hand clasped over your face, and your entire body shakes as lucifer refuses to cease fucking you brainless.

“hello? is anyone there? i can hear you breathing.”

within seconds, you move the phone away from your mouth, ready to hang up but lucifer’s reflexes are quick enough to grab your arm and bring the phone back to where it was moments ago.

“answer him,” lucifer whispers. you shake your head with tight lips, holding your breath as to not make a sound while lucifer holds the phone against your face. and into the ear he has claimed, he orders, “speak. now. or i won’t let you cum.”

you open your mouth, swallowing in air before finally speaking.

“this is mr. morningstar’s office. how can i help?”

“i wish to speak with lucifer himself. this is urgent.”

your mouth hangs open, silent moans causing your body to convulse as lucifer grinds slowly and deeply in your pussy. you’re hanging on by a thin thread, but lucifer brings your attention back from your oncoming orgasm.

“you want to cum, don’t you? be a good girl and do your fucking job.”

lucifer pushes himself up and switches up his pace from slow ruts to harsh and fast thrusts. each of them knock the air out of you as you try to speak.

“i must apologise, sir. you’re calling during his out of office hours so unfortunately i can’t let you speak to him at the moment.”

“why the hell not?!”

“this is his personal—ah!” you stifle a yelp to the best of your ability, praying lucifer would have some mercy and not humiliate you — or allow you to humiliate yourself. “this is his personal time but i can pass on a message.”

the man continues to speak and with shaky hands, you reach for pen and paper, turning your moans from lucifer’s cock dragging in and out of your pussy into hums of acknowledgement in heed of the man’s queries. you only hoped they’re disguised enough to not spark intrigue on the other end of the line, because that would be the end of all the professionalism you held.

you slam the telephone into its holder, ending the call as quickly as possible.

“what the hell was that?” you whine, clenching down on lucifer’s cock as you near the bliss you’ve been longing for. your complaints are disrupted with stutters caused by lucifer’s thrusts. “do you have any idea how stupid that was?”

“you’re the one who answered,” he bites back, landing his hand down harshly on your ass once again. “not me.”

“you told me—ah! to answer!”

“and you could have refused.”

you lower your head, biting back a moan. you could have refused, but the outcome of tonight’s session would be a lot different if you didn’t answer. perhaps, lucifer might have stopped immediately, leaving you on the outskirts of blissful territory.

or alternatively, he may have begun to fuck you harsher, rougher, meaner; punishing you for not obeying his order. but you wouldn’t think of it as a punishment, as long as you get to cum.

“that’s right,” he continues. “you’re so desperate to cum, you don’t care if someone hears you getting fucked like a whore.”

an especially loud groan escapes you at the sound of the new nickname. you quite like the sound of it, but your body more so and lucifer can tell from the quivering walls of your pussy.

“you like that? you like being called a whore?”

“yes!”

“i fucking knew it.”

he thrusts impossibly harder and your body collapses, allowing him full control of your pleasure. and he gifts it to you on a golden platter.

“go on. you’ve been a good whore, so go ahead and cum,” he grunts. “cum for me. cum all over my cock like the desperate, pathetic bitch you are.”

“fuck! ah!” you can’t even warn him of your orgasm as you clench your walls, feeling his cock in greater detail as it rubs you in all the right places. “fuck, luci— feels so good!”

“that’s it, baby,” lucifer hums, emptying his own load in you. “good fucking girl.”

his words are dragged out, mellowed by the pure ecstasy he has found in your pussy. and your pussy, too, feels awestruck from the new sensations of him filling you up, not just with his cock but with his cum, too.

you’re taken over by bliss and warmth, limbs trembling from the sheer shock of it all. never had you imagined how one of your worst days would end with such astoundingly good sex. you ebb and flow with the pleasure, letting your body relax and the feelings to wither away slowly while you catch your breath.

but lucifer doesn’t give the feelings a chance to subdue and picks up the pace. with hands grounded in your hips, he pushes all of his might into one more round. the stickiness from your mixed arousals leaking out of your pussy allow him to fuck you with ease, and not minutes later, your screaming and thrashing with a new, heightened pleasure.

your tip–toes graze the floor, pressing into the ground as hard as you can to stabilise yourself. but lucifer fucks you ruthlessly and when he rips another orgasm from you, your legs fly up and outward and your hips rock against him and the desk in a most embarrassing manner.

your limbs flail and your body convulses and lucifer relishes, knowing he is the reason behind your wild pleasure. he wonders if anyone else could make you like this, to drive you insane with pleasure that you no longer have control over your body, even for the short–lived moment of him fucking you through your orgasm.

perhaps, that is why he keeps going. because he wants this moment to last forever.

having your tight pussy wrapped around him and your wildly beautiful moans filling his ears for eternity doesn’t sound bad at all.

but he, too, has limits and feels himself slow down. his thrusts become sloppy and gentle and his guttural groans are replaced with heavy breaths.

“fuck….” he gasps and he truly can find no other words. “fuck.”

collapsing into his chair, he watches your body twitching as you lay exhausted on his desk with you red ass on display and his cum dripping down your legs.

when you finally regain control over your limbs, you slowly rise, stretching to ease your muscle. but your whines and groans and the sight of your sullied body keep his cock hard for longer than he thought.

“are you alright?” he asks breathlessly. “rest longer if you need to.”

“no,” you state, looking at him over you shoulder before backing up. “we’re not done yet.”

lucifer is surprised. under the assumption that you would be as spent as he is, he does not expect you to find his cock and slip it inside of you again. but that’s exactly what you do.

“oh my god….” you moan, hypersensitive to any and all ministrations against your pussy. but still, you want more, you need more. “please, it’s so good!”

lucifer supposes he should let you continue bouncing on his cock given that he released all of his stress on you. the least he can do is allow you to use him until you’re satisfied. but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing your hips and guiding you up and down. his fingers fit into your flesh like second nature.

his added strength makes it easier for you, and you focus more on finding your next orgasm.

the usually quiet office of morningstar corporation’s boss is now filled will all sorts of obscenities — from your desperate gasps and moans to the squeaking of lucifer’s chair, and the abrupt slaps cutting through the air to the scuffling of paper on his desk when you grab onto it for stability as rapture fills you for the last time, teaching you that the joy and delight you find in melding your bodies together is the most sinful of utopias.

pleasure turns to pain, and pain turns to pleasure as you are overwhelmed with the orgasms you have endured.

lucifer’s hands snake around your waist, pulling you back into him with one hand straying to fondle your breasts. breathing in your scent, he grounds himself in you and you lay limp in his arms as all the glee and elation filling your body slowly slips away.

regaining your stable mind and body, you realise you and your boss have a lot of discussing to do. and what follows can either make or break the relationship you have with him as your boss and you as his secretary. all professional boundaries have been broken, and the flimsy rules you had in place to ensure your situation would not advance to the level it did tonight are left far in hindsight.

there’s not a single directive you left untouched. but knowing you broke all the rules, and that lucifer instigated most of it, is worrying as much as it is electrifying because you know that extra care and attention from lucifer isn’t just for the sex.

he appreciates your abilities outside of the sexual encounters you share.

as you would both understand, your role is merely to serve him and his company. he receives corporate aide from his directors but still, he trusts your intuition. he listens to your gut feeling as if it were his own.

he has a habit of asking your opinion when it comes to high–risk decisions, or urging you to tell him your opinion on a new client he had a bad feeling about. although you’re in his presence for admin only, lucifer ensures you are there for more than that.

that you are there for him and not just your job.

in more ways than one.

and he proved that tonight when he kissed you. the first rule of your arrangement was no feelings and no kissing. but lucifer, a man who lives by rules, had thrown it out the window. it only made you more curious as to what would come from it.

surely, you would stick to the scope of your professionalism. at least, what’s left of it. but his lips against yours, the soft drag of them across your skin, the sweet whispers that meant something entirely different after he kissed you….is it really worth the cost of losing your livelihood?

“we should do this more often,” he breathes into your mouth, enveloping your lips between words. “i’m beginning to despise how rare of an occurrence this is.”

“we do this often enough,” you warn him, rising from your place on his lap.

but he doesn’t let you escape. he grabs your wrist and pulls you back into him. your butt is awkwardly positioned near his softened cock but you rest your shoulder on his chest with your arms tucked between your bodies.

“if you don’t wish to do this again, then just say the word. but for now, let’s stay like this a little while longer,” he speaks softly into your hair. “i had a long day.”

“i did, too.” you hum.

his big arms wrapping around you feels foreign. but still, it feels natural to slide your head onto his shoulder and rest in his embrace. you have been intimate with lucifer in more ways than one, but this….sitting in his lap, bare and vulnerable, and holding him back while he kisses and caresses the skin on your neck and shoulders….it’s a different type of intimate.

a type of intimacy you never imagined he would be capable of.

“i hope i made your day better, even in the slightest.”

“trust me, lucifer,” you smirk. “you turned a really shitty day into a really good one.”

the both of you relish in each other’s soft laughter, but taking notice of the darkened sky has you realising this moment will soon come to an end, and you will need to part ways and pretend none of this ever happened, even the new additions to your extra duties to your ceo.

your heart sinks, knowing you have grown fonder of these encounters, fonder of the man beneath you. and you don’t want it to end despite all the alarm systems in your body telling you otherwise.

you ignore them for now, relishing in the warmth from lucifer while he is still here with you.

with a smug smile, you think to yourself: enjoy it while you can.

“and me?” you ask playfully, nudging him to open his eyes. “did i make your day better?”

you hear the soft inhale he takes, discreetly breathing in the air you give and allowing it to settle his beating heart and erratic nerves. you will never know, but even in your no strings attached relationship with him, you turned him from a purely lustful man into a man capable of love.

“yes,” he chuckles, and he looks at you in a way you’ve never been looked at before. lucifer is so adoring in his gaze. “you always do.”

you smile giddily. to yourself, or to him, you’re not quite sure. perhaps it’s the after–effects of your multiple orgasms that have you grinning and kissing him again. or maybe it’s a new chapter unfolding between you.

either way, the future of your position with him and the company is a lot less daunting when lucifer is close to you like this.

“how’s that for stress relief?”

#♡ pearl’s writing #obey me x reader #obey me #obey me smut #obey me lucifer smut #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me x female reader

[fizzy-blood]

Eyeless Jack x GN!Reader Headcanons (NSFW)

Another request from a friend on Discord (I'm 100% not hyperfixated on writing rn) so enjoy 18+ warning This content Includes : Blood kink, size kink, corruption kink "knife" play, aggressive dom Jack, reader might have autassassinophilia, minor dubcon elements.

Ok to start off nice and simple this man will go from completely calm to being the most horney person you've ever met

Like one moment you're vibing in his room sitting next to him and the next you're being bent over his bed having your guts rearranged

Many things could cause this, the thing I like to think that causes this to happen the most is that Jack can tell if you're horney

Even the slightest changes to the way you look, act or smell will let him know

The point is if you're in the mood so is he

Some of the other things that get him going include stuff like borrowing his stuff or sitting on his lap (also if you somehow cut yourself and he notices it, let me just say that you will not be walking for days)

OK, I really want to do a dick description so I'm just gonna drop it here

This man is huge, sure his dick may not have been small when he was human but the whole demon thing definitely added to it

around 8.5 inch w a slight curve to the left, not super thick but noticeably larger then a humans

It's mostly gray like the rest of him but the head is like an inky black colour

Not only is he big but he also has multiple tongues, three to be exact and boy does he know how to use them

He'll eat you out regardless of your sex

Afab? He'll have your hips pinned to the bed and he abuses your clit w one tongue while the other two make there way inside you

Amab? Prepare for the greatest blowjob in the history of all man kind

Now another thing about him being a demon is the idea of him going into heat

When he's not and you want sex he'll normally agree, not much to worry about there

But when he's in heat? Oh boy can it be a nightmare...

No self-control whatsoever, like at all

Even if you don't want sex in that moment he'll be pushing you onto your back, forcing his way inside of you

Even if you didn't consent at first and wanted him off of you, you'll definitely want him to finish what he started

When in heat he'll not really care if he hurts you

In fact, he gets off to it when in that state

Biting you hard enough to draw blood, scratching at your skin, even taking a scalpel and cutting you open to see your pretty red blood

Because of his height you'll probably be shorter than him (he's like 6'8ft) and he's completely fine with it

He likes how small you are compared to him, it makes him think of you as this small helpless being that he needs to protect and care for

Another thing is if you're a virgin

Jack probably hasn't had any sex since the whole cult thing but even he has some experience

So when finds out that you're a virgin? He has to restrain himself from ripping your clothes off and fucking you right then and there

Jack kinda sees you as this pure angelic being, so when he's fucking you you've gotta be ready for an amazing combination or degrading and praise

He'll tell you how much he loves you one minute and will be calling you a slut the next

BONUS!! (Aftercare)

You're obviously going to be super sore after sex and Jack is fully aware of that

Lucky for you, Jack is super sweet afterwards

Need water? On it.

Ice? Already there.

Still bleeding? He's already grabbing some band aids.

Want to take a bath? He'll join you and help you clean yourself up.

Again, you wont be able to walk for a little while afterwards so if if you need to go somewhere, Jack will carry you to wherever you need/want to be

He'll also lay next to you in bed or have you lay on top of him and let you sleep on him

That's all for now, hope you enjoyed! -Fizz

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanon #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #eyeless jack smut #eyeless jack headcanon

[bigfatbimbo]

you ask me to talk about any of the vees?

why of course. and yes it’s vox i want to talk about.

okay hear me out here…i hc him as obviously a bottom, a sub, and definitely someone needy for their partner. i want more clingy Vox!! we’re talking quadruple-texting, clinging to your side, asking to shower together purely so he can be with you, always running behind you as you flit around town running errands, etc etc.

but this side of vox obviously translates into the bedroom as well.

picture him, dick or boycunt (both are delicious), just absolutely clinging to you as you fuck the shit out of him.

we know this man has a mommy kink at this point, but just picture how well you could play to his clinginess, edging him breathless and then ruthlessly overstimulating him again and again as he clings to you, unable to form coherent words, only “mommy, please!”

and the aftercare…ohhhh, the aftercare. poor baby wouldn’t even want you to leave to get him a glass of water. you’d have to pry yourself off him just to get what you need to care for him, and even after that he’d cling to you, sleepy and needy, falling asleep atop you like a cat, rendering you unable to move for the next few hours.

anyways yeah, vox. we love him.

warnings — smut, unorganized, actually just a long ass ramble, your going to want to kill yourself by the end, dom reader, use of mommy, NOT PROOFREAD

summery — A terrible ramble because you got bimbo all worked up about clingy subby vox. Also this isn’t a drabble or headcanons, but a secret third thing (a mess.)

I AM IN SUCH A VOX MOOD RIGHT NOW!! Who’s surprised? Anyways, let me jibber jabber about this for the next few messy, unorganized paragraphs.

So I love your idea, and so i’m going to take it and put in into a more canonical in-character little ball. Let me start off with getting Vox to this point and how it would take literally forever.

Because even if he trusts you, he still wouldn’t be overly clingy or submissive. I mean, obviously he’s submissive, but in a harder to break, bratty kind of way.

Well, let’s think about this; what would it take for us to get a clingy, subby Vox? It would take lots of time, and lots of building of, not only trust, but reliance. Say you’ve been dating for a while, he’s obviously subbed before, but still in that entitled power bottom kind of way.

Now, we all know his job is stressful, he’s a CEO and his coworkers aren’t the most relaxed people in the world. He’s stressed out and things go wrong. As per usual, he bitches to you about it.

But here’s where we start to break down his walls. Giving him a back massage while calmly giving him actual advice on the situation. Carefully recommending him ways to solve the problem, while relaxing the tense muscles in his neck.

Thats more than simple trust, like I said before, that establishes a small undertone of reliance. He’s independent, a control freak, but fuck, your ideas were good and now he can finally calm down. Now there’s a newfound trustworthiness that you’ll be there for him when he’s too angry or bugged out to think of a strategy.

Maybe you do little thoughtful things for him too, make his coffee the way he likes it, leaving little sticky notes around the house with sweet things on them. He thinks it dumb, probably laughs in your face about it, until he doesn’t. Because on some days, his fragile ego has taken so many hits that he needs your unconditional support and love.

That’s when we see him get more clingy. Even still, it would only show after specific situations, but it’s there. You are his source of comfort in his hectic, exhausting, businessman life. He wants to be powerful and dominant all the time, that’s a given. But it’s the fact that with you, he doesn’t have to be.

Okay enough character analysis, let’s make this interesting. Quadruple texts are very in-character because of his attention seeking tendencies. He’s texting you all sorts of things, while probably watching you on his cameras. Especially if you’re talking to someone else, then he blows up your phone to take the attention off of them.

Clinging to your side would probably only happen alone, but he would try to be so slick about it. Oh you need to get up and get water? Here, he’ll do it— oh, ouch, oh no! His back hurts. Could you maybe stop what you’re doing and come rub his back until it’s better?

Showering with you is a given. Walking behind you in the city while you’re running errands is interesting, however. Because I don’t think he would walk behind you, that’d make him look like some stupid lapdog. No, no, he’d keep up the pace perfectly, maybe even walk a little faster.

But he’d try to be slick about following you around too. Like, oh, you have errands to run? Well, wait up. Coincidentally something just popped up for him as well.

Okay, everyone shut the fuck up we’re gonna talk about sex now. Because once you get him to trust and depend on you this much, he is so needy all of the time.

I’ve talked about his mommy kink before, but this shines a new light on it. We know he’s desperate for validation, attention, and overall someone to stroke his ego, making him the perfect candidate for a praise kink. However, this paired with the fact that he’s not surrounded by the most supportive people in the world, and he’s normally stressed out of his mind and dying to be taken care off but too prideful to do anything about it mommy kink city.

And because, as we’ve established, he trusts and relies on you so much, making him super clingy, also gives him that extra ingredient to fuel his mommy kink. He wants you to take care of him and make him feel loved (fantastic when degrading him because it makes it all 100x more effective.)

So I actually think him being super clingy and needy, with zero to no reciprocation let’s be real, would for very well with this.

Imagine pegging him, as Vox sits in your lap, arms slinked tightly around your neck as his nails dig into your back while you fuck him rough. He’s came several times already and the cities power is long gone, but he thinks he’d genuinely die if you stopped.

His screaming out for you, clawing at your back while shouting anything he can think of. ‘Mommy— mzzz—more!’ ‘Don’t stop, ‘ve been so good.’ ‘Fuck, call me your g—gzzz—good boy.’

Too much praise and too much degradation both make him sob his eyes out and lowkey fucks with his wiring. If he’s getting strapped up good enough he’d probably electrocute you, all while moaning and whining for his mommy.

Sub-top Vox with a mommy kink also does something to be, ask me about it, I dare you.

And he’d be the cutest during aftercare. Still coming out of subspace, hiding his screen in your chest while you rub his back softly, wincing when you get too close to his neck where all the bite marks are.

But he’d be totally collapsed on top of you after you clean him off a little, and because of his sleepiness he’d probably still call you mommy.

a/n — this was lowkey my good night post because i’m too tired to do anything else. Looking forward to reading your Vees requests though, and writing hate sex Lute!

#hazbin hotel x reader #inbox open #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #dom reader #vox x reader #sub vox #vox x you #vox smut

[slvtforfiction]

NSFW Alphabet

☆ Colby Brock X Reader

☆ Smut

☆ Masterlist

☆ Hey guys! Before anything else I would ask you to request anything you want because I've lost a lot of motivation and it would really help! :D (Please look at pinned post to see if requests are open.)

☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)

A = Aftercare

(what they’re like after sex)

Tell me this man isn’t good at aftercare and I’ll fight you. He is the besttt,makes sure you’re cleaned up and comfortable,talks to you about what happened and what you did/didn’t like and will give you the best cuddles.

B = Body part

(their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favourite body part on himself is definitely his v line,knows you stare and cross your legs just at the sight of it.

His favourite body part on you is your wrists,tying up his little baby <3

C = Cum

(anything to do with cum, basically)

Loves making a mess,doesn’t mind coming inside of you but loves to see the mess you and him have made together.

D = Dirty secret

(pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Stalks your instagram to get off,will I elaborate? No.

E = Experience

(how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He knows exactly what he’s doing,knows where very sensitive part of you is,he’s experienced a Ohhh to know exactly how to get anyone off.

F = Favorite position

(this goes without saying)

His favourite position is definitely doggy,loves to shove your face into the pillow and ram into your gentle body <3

G = Goofy

(are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I definitely think he’s more serious,thinks there’s a time and a place for humour and sex is not one of them.

H = Hair

(how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He definitely trims and he might shave occasionally but he doesn’t care and neither do you.

Loves to see a woman with hair tbh.

I = Intimacy

(how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He is romantic is some aspects especially if he’s being gentle with you but is usually rough and callous with you especially after a bad day.

J = Jack off

(masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t really Jack off because he knows he can find you and tease you until your begging for him on top of you <3

K = Kink

(one or more of their kinks)

Degrading- He is the best man when it comes to calling you his ‘slut’ or other things like ‘cum white’ etc.

Daddy- Tbh man has a daddy kink,convince me otherwise.

Bondage- Loves to tie you up and see you helpless underneath him whilst you moan his name <3

Praise- He doesn’t praise you a lot but usually mixes it in whilst degrading you ‘pretty little whore’ etc.

Dom- He’s said it before tbf and he meant it,man’s got daddy dom energy,prove me wrong.

Spanking- Definitely the type of guy to spank you with his belt/hand especially if he thinks you deserve punishment.

Dd/lg- Daddy dom energy,loves seeing his little girl underneath him,moaning out his name <3

Edging/Teasing- I could write a novel with how much he loves to tease the shit out of you,pulling you to the edge only to let you down. Especially if he’s horny as well,his way of expressing it is by teasing you.

Choking- Loves his hand wrapped around your neck,seeing how small it is In his hands as he fucks into you.

L = Location

(favorite places to do the do)

Loves shower sex,like mans is feral for it,he loves being able to hold up your body in the shower as you lose control of your legs.

M = Motivation

(what turns them on, gets them going)

Sit in his lap. That’s it.

But really he loves everything you do,like even simple everyday thing will get him going.

N = No

(something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Wouldn’t actually want to hurt you,if he’s degrading you he wouldn’t say anything that would actually stick with you and hurt you.

O = Oral

(preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Both,he loves face fucking you but also loves to see you sitting on his face while he eats you like a three course meal.

He’s skilled asf,knows exactly what he’s doing and where to put his tongue.

P = Pace

(are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

I feel like he’s definitely more fast and rough rather than anything else,even if he’s had a bad day he would fuck you senseless to make himself feel better.

Q = Quickie

(their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He loves a good quickie especially if you have to be somewhere,he’ll send you out of the apartment with cum looking at your thighs.

R = Risk

(are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He loves taking risks with you. Will someone hear you? He’s the type of person to say ‘let’s find out’.

He likes experimenting with you to see if either of you have a new kink to discover together and when he discovers another one of your kinks? He’s feral.

S = Stamina

(how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He could go all night without breaks,especially if he’s using his tongue. His jaw is tired? Doesn’t matter he will soldier through it.

T = Toys

(do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Has a box of toys under his bed. Will not elaborate.

He would definitely use all of them on you at least once to see what gets you going.

U = Unfair

(how much they like to tease)

He would tease you all night just to see you get desperate enough to grind on thin air.

Hates it when you tease him though,if he notices you teasing him he will fuck you until you’re begging for more,no mercy.

V = Volume

(how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not particularly loud,a few grunts and groans here and there but is usually quiet so he can hear your pretty moans <3

W = Wild card

(a random headcanon for the character)

Face fucking. Adores it.

X = X-ray

(let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s 6inches,7 when hard and he knows how to use it. He knows that he’s big but will still whisper in your ear about how you can take it.

ABS. That’s it 🙏

Y = Yearning

(how high is their sex drive?)

Man could fuck you every day of the week if you asked him to.

His sex drive is usually 4 times a week but would definitely be more if you asked him for it.

Z = Zzz

(how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s not falling asleep until you’ve both had a full debrief,cuddled and you have gone to sleep yourself.

It’s more of a comfort thing for him to know that you’re okay and alright with everything that’s happened and that you’re happy and comfortable afterwards.

#spotify #smut #song #romance #cute #fluff #colby brock smut #sam and colby #sam and colby fluff #colby brock #sam colby and friends #sam golbach #sam and kat #colby smut #colby brock x reader #colby x reader

[janeyseymour]

La Cosa Nostra- pt 11

cowritten with @schemmentis

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10.

Summary: Melissa's pissed with recent news, the Feds are back at it, and you go to a place and person to find some comfort.

WC: ~2.05k

At this news, Melissa quickly slips into the seat on the other side of Dom's table. “Are ya crazy? I told you they've already torn this place to shreds, and you want to bring the money in through here?” She hisses as she leans more into the middle of the table. “Listen, losin’ the salon is already bad enough. You know what it did to Y/N when you took her off it.”

“That didn't come from me, Mel. I just had to deliver the message. You know that.”

“I don't care who it came from. You knew, and you did it just the same. Now you have the coglioni to sit here and say we should run it through here. I already ain't gonna forget the slightin’ of my wife, youse know that- the lot of you. You wanna tell me I gotta run this shit through my restaurant? Then tell me. Don't act like this is some proposition, Dominic. Tell me what to do, and I'll handle it. ‘Cause you and I both know how this shit works, but I am tellin’ you,” Melissa points an index finger at the man across from her sternly. “Right here, right now, I am tellin’ you; this fucks up my restaurant and youse all are gonna have a much bigger problem than the fuckin’ Feds, capisce?”

Dominic's face remains neutral, though there is an amused glint to his eyes as his palm shifts along the head of his cane. He nods quickly and respectfully to Melissa. “We want things to go well even more than you do, kid.” He says softly.

Melissa leans back in chair, arms crossing over her chest. She raises an eyebrow, silently urging him to say what he needs to say. 

“We'll work out the details on our end. You only have to make sure you're here when the money comes through. Simple as that.” Dom says. He sighs when Melissa still merely stares at him expectantly. “Sí, sí. We're telling you this is how it's gonna work from now on. Clear out a spot in the office in the back. Nobody else needs to know it's anythin’ different than a regular shipment comin’ once in a while. None of it happens if you ain't here. This is big, Lissa. They're trustin’ you.”

“Like they trusted my wife?” Melissa spits out as she pushes herself out of the chair. “Texts only. They call and wake up my girls while they’re sleepin’, I'll take one of my bats to their kneecaps.” She adds on her way past Dom in his seat to storm back toward the kitchen.

You raise a brow as you watch your wife storm into the back and Dominic starts to slowly make his way out. You grab one of the other servers milling about, silently asking them to keep an eye on your girls while you go check on the redhead.

When you get into the back, she’s slamming her fist into the linoleum counter where they prep the food. Her hand is already bruising, and you take her fist gently into your own.

“My love,” you whisper as you hold her hand in yours.

“Let me go,” she hisses.

You shake your head, refuting her request. “You’re hurting yourself. You know I can’t let you do that.”

“I don’t give a shit,” she grumbles as she starts to curl her other hand into a fist. You grab the other one before she can even think about causing damage to that hand.

“Melissa.”

“They’re usin’ the restaurant as their new front,” your wife tells you quietly. “Said that it’s what we have to do, and they trust me… that we’re in the clear because the feds saw how busy we are and that we bring the girls around here, so it has to be safe.”

“I’m not letting you do this,” you tell her. “And I’m not letting them put the girls in danger.”

“We don’t got an option, Y/N. I told Dom I would handle it,” Melissa sighs as she leans against you. “And I will. You just… take care of the girls. No matter what happens.”

“Melissa, don’t talk like that- like you’re gonna die.”

“I’m just being realistic. You did the same when they were using the salon,” your wife says softly. “We both knew that if something happened, I’d have to keep the girls safe. But now, it’s on me, and I know that you’d do the same if something were to happen. We don’t have a choice.”

“Fuck,” you whisper again. “Shit.”

“Get… get the girls out of here, and tell them that I’ll be home late tonight,” your wife runs a hand over her face. “I have to make it work here.”

“No,” you say softly. “I’ll… I’ll get someone to come pick them up so I can help you.”

“Y/N,” Melissa grits out. “Go. I can handle this.”

You give her a look, one that tells her she doesn’t have to do this- that you’ll handle it. You don’t want to have her be the one in danger.

But she just shakes her head and insists you get the girls out of here- just in case Dom did give the two of you up, and he’s setting you up for failure. The girls cannot watch their mother(s) go down.

You cradle her face in your hands, kissing her a few times. “No more punchin’ things, hey? Can't have you bustin’ up those pretty fingers more than you already do.” You whisper. “I'll take care of the girls. You do what you gotta do.” When she nods, just a little, you kiss her one more time before finally turning away.

You gather your girls with a thank you to the server watching them for you. 

“Mam! We have to wait for Mommy!” Cat is insisting as you walk with both your girls out the front door.

“Auntie Val needs Mommy's help tonight, sweetheart. So, we're gonna go home and make sure everything is cleaned up and nice for her, okay?” You speak to your girls though you're glancing around the parking lot on the way to your car.

You take note of Dom's car pulling out but don't see any cars with sirens or lights careening into the lot afterward. You carefully buckle your girls into the backseat. When you're shutting the back door after making sure they're both safe, you look around again on the walk around to the drivers side. There's nothing different or out of the ordinary. No sign of agents or officers. Which means Dom has only done exactly as he said he did.

You slip into the driver's seat, throwing your seatbelt on. You swallow as you carefully pull out of the spot and towards home. Dom telling the truth is maybe worse than if he had flipped. They're really putting this on Melissa and Twelve Tables. Part of you despises it. The amount of risk it puts on your wife. You know it intimately. The other part, the part that grew up in all this and doesn't know anything else, that part is proud as hell. It isn't anything to turn your nose up at to be entrusted with the process of mafia money. It speaks volumes. Volumes that equally excite and terrify you.

Danik and Shaw are back at the precinct, contemplating everything that Dominic told them- that you and your wife had nothing to do with the murder of Bobby. He told them that even if you did have something against the man, you could never do anything- you rescue wasps because you don’t have the heart to kill them despite the fact that your wife is always screaming at you to kill the damned demons. They go over the fact that you bring your twins into your restaurant, you take the girls to church with you, you always are on time to get the girls to and from school. If you were a part of the mafia and mob that dealt with things pertaining to ordering hits and murder, you wouldn’t be such dutiful mothers.

But they also know that you never brought the girls into the salon- they’ve only ever seen the two girls with you at the restaurant. And that is a bit suspicious in their eyes. So, they plan to head back to the salon the following day.

When they get there, you aren’t there- which is unusual. You’re almost always there, and they know that. Instead, Tony is out on the floor with the other stylists. But you are nowhere to be seen; your car isn’t even in the lot. And it isn’t in the lot because you’re somewhere else.

You’re sitting in the sanctuary of your church. After dropping the girls off at school and leaving your wife to her restaurant turned mafia front, you go to the one place where you can find some sort of solitude- because even now your home reminds you of everything happening in your world.

There’s no service today, so you find yourself sitting in the back pew by yourself, looking up at the ceiling. You’re speaking silently to whatever God is out there to please spare your family from all of the heartache that you can only imagine is in your inevitable future. Finally, you bow your head, and you begin to weep silently. 

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when you feel someone slide into the pew next to you and wrap an arm around your shoulder. Your eyes pop open in surprise, and when you look next to you, Barbara is sitting there.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t ask why you’re here and not at the salon or at the restaurant. She doesn’t mention that she knows what the two of you do outside of your legal businesses. No- she sits in complete and utter silence as she holds you gently. And you can’t do anything about it. You can’t explain why you’re here in a puddle of your own tears, not without giving away what she already knows to be true. So you don’t say anything. You just continue to cry out your fears and worries over everything while clinging to the shawl that Barbara has draped over her shoulders. And when you pull away, you let out an ugly, choked out laugh.

“You probably think I’m crazy.”

“Crazy? For coming to the one safe little corner of the earth where you can feel anything and do anything and not be judged for it?” the woman asks you. She shakes her head silently. She takes your hand in her own, and together the two of you pray. You don’t realize that she is praying for the same thing that you are, but she is. The two of you silently pray that you’ll somehow get yourself out of this mess- that your family will be able to return to some sort of normalcy- or better yet turn a new leaf and start a new life where there is no mafia or mob, no illegal businesses that put everyone in harm’s way.

And when you lift your head, hers is still bowed for a few seconds before she lifts it with a quiet, “Thank you, God.” And then, as if nothing happened, she pats your hands gently with her own and goes on her way. 

You take a few deep breaths once Barb is gone. Carefully trying to get yourself together. You wipe at your cheeks and eyes, focusing on the distant altar at the pulpit. You sit in the last pew, breathing deep and slow. Staring at the large depiction of Jesus on the cross behind the altar. Slowly, you feel the serenity you were hoping to. You don't know that praying will do anything, actually change anything, but it's at least felt like getting it off your chest. In a way that doesn't jeopardize your family or anyone else. You suddenly understand Barbara's devout faith. You can't say that will ever be you but you get it. You make the sign of the cross over your head and chest as you finally rise from the pew and slowly make your way out of the quiet church.

TAGS (and let me know if you want to be added!): @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

#abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #mel #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti

[daydreams-after-dark]

Two words: breath play

Which members are into it?

What kind of breath play do they like?

Oooh so I have a few little thoughts on this topic.

I need to preface this that breath play is a serious topic in terms of risk. Please do not use my ill-informed view of it as anything to apply to real life. Research pls. This is just a romanticized fantasy based discussion for fun and for our imagination.

I can see both Jisung and Hyunjin being on the receiving end of breath play. But go about it very differently to each other.

For Hyunjin it's super sensual. Like he loves the idea of how it looks visually to have a hand wrapped around his neck, or a pretty velvet rope. He even practices this on himself, with a mirror nearby. He wants to see his facial expressions as the air is restricted. He wants to see his ring-adorned hand and slender fingers against his neck. He also likes to involve you, and experiment with you. Do you make similar faces, sounds? Do you get just as aroused? And what would happen if he splays a hand across your neck while he fucks you?

Jisung's needs are a little different. He likes to participate in breath play to heighten his sense of panic. He wants to be a blubbering mess and surrender entirely to you. Although he does play around on his own and he uses his dom side to dom himself.. so he's playing out both his dom and sub side (if that makes sense). He likes the fear and the feeling of lightheadedness. When it comes to when he's in command of you, his favourite thing to do is make you choke on his cock and pinch your nose (pretty sure I've written him doing this). He loves the tears stream down your face as your eyes lose focus.

Felix is a maybe on receiving, but I don't know if I see him into it? I feel like he's more into nipple clamps and anal plugs (something to explore another day perhaps?)

Binnie and Chan. Dick choking, and corsetting (applying pressure to your chest). For some reason I think those two would be down for that. Both make them feel strong and powerful. Masculine. They often like it when you play a subdued and helpless role. They'll take care of you after and make sure you're okay. Big tough guys are softies really.

Jeongin. Deranged fucker likes to put various masks and bags over your head. He's more of a risktaker than the others. He thinks he knows enough about this entire topic that he has confidence that nothing will go wrong. He never acts purely on impulse and every move is calculated. The man researches first. He's got a collection of BDSM literature, a BDSM coach. He's giving me kidnapper vibes for real.

Lee Know. Straight up likes to see you squirm. He usually likes collars and ropes that he can tighten gradually. Or just a simple veiny hand around you woks. He's a more in the heat of the moment guy, but he's so in tune with you that he knows if you're up for it. You love nothing more than seeing his eyes as they watch you intently as he squeezes. He loves to come inside you when you're at the brink of unconsciousness.

Suengmin. I actually don't see him into breath play as much as he's into spanking you with a paddle, or calling you names. He's more about power games through the way he treats you. Degrading and mean when you're role playing, but kind and sweet the rest of the time. I really want to explore more about Seungmin tbh. He's mostly depicted as cold and mean (just like l just described him), but I think he's actually a big softy.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin

#skz smut #skz hard thoughts #skz imagines #after dark asks #sorsh is asked #chan smut #jeongin smut #han jisung smut #lee minho smut

[yeetusdabussy]

RE Boys (Chris, Leon, Jake, Carlos) and their "sexytime" styles. Go!

࿙࿚࿙࿆࿚࿙࿚࿙࿆࿚࿙࿚࿙࿆࿚࿙࿚࿙࿆࿚࿙࿚࿙࿆࿚࿙࿚࿙࿆࿚࿙࿚࿙࿆࿚

LETS GO!

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚MINORS DNI*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

── ･ ｡☆*WARNING*☆ﾟ.──

Smut,foul language, dirty talk, nicknames (baby, babygirl,princess, slut), SLIGHT BONDAGE, FEM!

࿙࿚࿙࿆࿚࿙࿚࿙࿆࿚࿙࿚࿙࿆࿚࿙࿚࿙࿆࿚࿙࿚࿙࿆࿚࿙࿚࿙࿆࿚࿙࿚࿙࿆࿚

Chris

( ≖͈́ ·̫̮ ≖͈̀ )ﾆ Rough and sensual. He loves full nelson, I'm sorry..something about using his full strength to keep you up but also having you folded like a omelette! But most of all, he does love making love to you, so if anything, he'll definitely go for some old fashion missionary.

( ≖͈́ ·̫̮ ≖͈̀ )ﾆ He also enjoys the lotus position, something about being able to hold you close while fucking onto his cock is just a all time favorite. Being able to suck on your neck and feel your nails against his scalp.

"That's it princess, open up for me." You don't know how many times you've came but you really don't care, not when his cock is pounding into you like some unstoppable machinery that's just charges itself from your moans. "S- Ah! slow down! 'M can't cum no more!~" You panted and grip the back of his hair. "I'll be done soon princess, just take Me a little longer."

Leon

(ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡He's a lot more sensual then you think, the spooning position is his favourite, being able to wake up in the morning and kiss you awake, rubbing his hardening length against your bottom in the early morning. Letting him slip himself inside you once given consent to continue his mainstream.

(ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡ He has his rough moments tho, like if he's been away for a long time and just can't wait to get to his baby girl. That's when he has you on the edge of the bed while he stands up and pounds into you.

Feeling soft kisses on the back of your neck as he thrusts his way inside you from behind. Holding you close as you both lay under the early warmth of the sun. Feeling his hands caress and grope every part of you like a delicate piece of glass. "You feel so good around me baby girl." He whispers softly into your ear as his warm breath fanning against the shell of it. He takes smooth and slow deep thrusts inside you. Rubbing your clit in the process. "Squeezing around me already? ~"

Jake

ᜊ( ' ⩊ '𖦹)ᜊdefinitely on the teasing side of things, he's a power bottom loving mf. He loves to watch you struggle to take him while he lays under you watching the amazing show. He loves reverse cowgirl, how can he not? Watching your ass bounce on his cock, and watching his cock disappear into your dripping heat.

ᜊ( ' ⩊ '𖦹)ᜊ He also enjoys doggy! Something about having you on all fours gets him pussy drunk, especially when he has you face down and ass up. He's definitely the type to hold your arms down while he pounds into you.

You were a sobbing mess, cumming for what feels like the fifth time already, your legs were slowly giving out from under you while Jake was slamming his hips into you from behind. The skin on skin echoing in your shared living room. You two were supposed to watch a movie! "Look at you all fucked out and a crying mess on my cock." He slaps your ass to hear a little yelp fall from your swollen and glossed lips. "Look at you, can't even respond to a simple conversation, you're adorable all slut out like this."

Carlos

❦ Look at him, just perfect in my opinion. But anyways! He's definitely a switch, he can't choose between Dom and sub, but he will say he does enjoy topping more than anything. So why not put you in a full on mating press right? He thinks you look gorgeous folded and twisted like a pretzel.

❦ When he does bottom, he'll be so cocky, but obedient. You can tie him to a chair and ride him all to your heart's content!

Groans and grunts filled your ears, feeling your legs folded over your chest and being pressed down by the man you love dearly. "Just one more baby- fuck one more!" He runts into you with barely any remorse. He can only think about how you're milking him right now with your cunt. He loves feeling the way you cling onto him for dear life! "Carlos!~ c-.. Cumming!" You sobbed out, Carlos knows your close, he can feel it. Besides, maybe one more wouldn't hurt right?

━┅┅┄┄⟞⟦✮⟧⟝┄┄┉┉━

THANKS FOR REQUESTING

#re headcanons #resident evil #request are open #re leon #re carlos #carlos resident evil #resident evil smut #resident evil chris #resident evil leon #resident evil carlos #leon smut #leon x reader #chris redfield smut #leon kennedy smut #carlos oliveria x reader #carlos oliveira #carlos oliveria smut #jake resident evil #jake muller #jake smut

[setsugekka]

❥project d (m)

↳ With a nice enough guy who’s just a little too rough around the edges for your parents liking, and a best friend who put you up to him (albeit a tad unknowingly), surely things can’t possibly get more complicated for the local illegal street racing squad.

Except, between racing for pink slips and bragging rights, there’s Emperors leader, Jeong Yunho.

kim hongjoong x fem!reader / jeong yunho x fem!reader — Initial D/street racing!au, unresolved romantic tension, exes to lovers, infidelity, angst, explicit sexual content [20.5k wc] cws: themes of smoking, drinking, & cheating throughout. the person getting cheated on is a scumbag!! mild physicality from a man to reader and more than mild physicality between two men ❱ light dom/sub dynamics in the beginning, penetrative sex (no barrier method), creampie, light choking, themes of possessiveness throughout, dirty talk, risky sex, public sex, oral sex (m).

“Ignore it.”

A simple enough request to oblige as Hongjoong's hand stretches out and over your body towards the side of you where your phone resides, only conveniently tossed there out of haste upon things between the two of you getting the better of you.

History getting the better of you.

Two, three more vibrations of the call alert cycle before it finally quiets, the man next to you hums with his face pressed into the pillow just before turning to face you with a devilish grin — as if a man having just won a prize, of sorts.

Perhaps he had done just that, at least, in this moment in time.

“I can't ignore him forever,” you sigh, back against the mattress and staring up towards the dingy, unpainted ceiling of this particular hotel that you and Hongjoong had become all too accustomed to.

The scent of far-from-fresh linens and a mixture of cigarette and other such smoke cascading through the small room — far from allowed but in a place like this, and for the rate that it goes for, it's what you'd expect. Housekeeping will do what they can, but there's only so much.

It's clean enough, but more than that, it's private. Part of you wishes coming here with him made you hate yourself as much as you think it's supposed to, because maybe then you'd stop.

“He's my boyfriend, after all.”

“He's a fucking tool,” he groans, finally sitting up beneath a single layer of white sheet and reaching to his left off of the side of the bed for his pants — long since discarded and not long after the two of you had arrived, at that. You can only presume the man to be reaching for his cigarettes, and unsurprised when it's precisely what comes into your line of vision as he sits back with his back against the headboard to light it — you watch him, every movement he makes no matter how small or unimportant it may seem. Taking in the details of him: short, platinum bleached hair with his fingernails painted black — two or three chipped, from what you can tell — and most likely from working on his car at some point over the week. “Who cares what he thinks? When are you going to leave him, anyways?”

“It's not that simple,” you answer, under your breath and slightly dejected at the turn the conversation has taken.

Because you know that you should feel bad, and yet you don't, but the fact that you don't sort of does do the trick. You wonder how terrible one has to be to falter morally to such a degree.

“I care about him.”

“The fuck you do,” Hongjoong bites back with a snort through his nose, smoke pushing out and towards the sheet that remains pooled around his waist. “If you did, you sure as shit wouldn't be here right now.”

Rolling your eyes and turning from him finally, it's likely that he's right. Somewhere, somehow, surely that is the only logical explanation.

But as complicated as things may be with your boyfriend, they're just as, if not more so, with the man next to you.

Goodbye's are hard, it's half of the reason people do everything in their power to avoid them.

Even to their own detriment.

“Don't be mad at me,” he adds, noticing the way you pull your eyes from him. “You wouldn't be fucking your ex still if things we're all sunshine and roses back at home. That's just the facts.”

“Do you have to do this tonight?” you say with a groan, turning back and onto your side to face away from him. It's then that you feel Hongjoong stir from behind, putting his cigarette out into a beer bottle on the nightstand and settling back down lengthwise along the bed, with the flesh of his chest pressed against your bare back. With one hand of his trailing down the exposed flesh and settling at the small of your back as fingers curl up and around the dip of your hip, you sigh into the feeling of his touch, once again starkly aware of how undressed you are once again, and how this will likely result in him fucking you for the second time tonight.

“I miss you,” he whispers after a while, lips ghosting gently across your exposed shoulder as he plants kisses there between words. “Leave him.”

“And do what? get back together with you?” you answer suddenly, with a tad bit more snip than you had really intended, but feeling the way his fingernails begin to curl into the skin of your waist, you need not worry about the reception of the response.

Chances are, he probably likes it.

The words come out so quietly that you can barely even hear them over the sound of the long since ignored television, only really used to help drown out the pathetic sounds of you succumbing to this man once again. “Do whatever you want, just not him.”

It's a weird sense of foreplay, the way that the two of you engage in conversations about the man in question — your partner — always seeming to get Hongjoong riled up sexually in some sort of sick, twisted way that you can't quite fathom — possibly the possession, possibly some sense of having won something over the man every time you agree to meet him like this — two competitors who have long since been rivals for far too long, with too much bad blood and no end in sight, either.

So when you left Hongjoong, and shortly after started dating Yunho, it was a punch to the gut and the ego — seemingly only quelled by the joy of having you cum around his dick a couple of times a week unbeknownst to the other party.

Shifting slightly, as if wanting to maintain some air of innocence and coincidence to it all — pressing your behind back and against him only to find that what greets you is a familiar hardness — Hongjoong's kisses into your shoulder intensify, nips and suction against the flesh where he had previously been ever so innocuously been touching.

Giving into him never was difficult, you wonder if you'll ever have control over yourself with him.

Hand slipping down to position himself better against you, the whimper that leaves your lips as he presses back inside of you for the second time that night is pitiful — grin forming across his mouth as he hears the utterance of you once again allowing yourself full compliance for him — his hand comes back up to snake along your side as he gently rocks into you, first settling for a moment atop your breast to thumb over the nub before continuing the journey up and around your throat to hold there tightly as he picks up his pace with a grunt into your ear from behind.

“You're mine, right?” Words echoing from his mouth and into your ear from just next to it, your body involuntarily clenching down around him giving you away more than anything you could say ever could — Hongjoong squeezing tighter around your throat at the feeling of you submitting to him in all of the same ways that he's always liked, that you've always liked — a game the two of you would often play deep within the throes of your romantic relationship. “You always came the hardest when I acted like I owned you.”

“Joong—“ another pitiful whimper at the sound and feeling of him encompassing you, especially given that he's right in his assessment of you.

Hand leaving your throat and continuing up again, two fingers prying between your lips to press into your mouth and lie flat against your tongue, Hongjoong's pace into hastens, fucking you harder than even the time earlier in the night — obviously with something to prove, now — some sort of motivation behind his actions; jealousy, angry, hatred.

The animalistic desire to have and own and need, perhaps.

“He fuck you like I do?” he finally asks in spite of already knowing the answer. There's a reason you keep coming back. “Know everything you like the way I do? Make you cum as hard as I do?”

And with fingers shoved deep into your mouth you can only groan at the words as your body threatens to release you from the contempt of a building orgasm — Hongjoong surely feels it with the way he slows and stills deep inside of you with a whine from you.

“Didn't say you could cum yet, did I?”

It's all you can do to beg for it, grinding back and against him for any sense of friction that will hopefully tip you over the edge that he's not allowing for you. Hot breath scented like cheap beer and cigarettes pressed into the shell of your ear as he holds your body flush tight against his as if to now even allow you the ability to escape his grasp — not that you'd want to, or have any intention to — but rather for what it represents to him.

That yes, this is a game that the two of you engage in consensually, but perhaps deep down for him, a confession of sorts, as well.

Hongjoong pulls his hand from your lips to quickly wrap it against your throat again, ever so slowly withdrawing his cock from you and almost completely before delivering you back an even more tortuously slow drive back inside — so slow that you feel as though you can feel every dip and curve and bulge of his shaft against your walls — the two of you don't play like this so much anymore since the dissolving of your relationship, and Hongjoong's willingness to reintroduce it now feels pointed and a bit like a man rushing to grasp a hold of something that he feels as though he's losing completely.

The break up wasn't on bad terms, and certainly appeared far from devastating to Hongjoong from what you could tell. He did start drinking more, though, and racked up a hefty DUI about a week after.

“You wanna cum, baby?”

You nod quicker than you think the words finish leaving his mouth, much to his amusement. Hongjoong repeats yet another frustratingly slow drive into you as he sets the condition for your orgasm.

“Tell me whose it is,” he groans, the warm hug of your pussy pulling on him equally as much but far more able to maintain his cool. “Who owns it, who does it belong to, baby?”

a sharp inhale, breathing still constricted by his hand keeping you firmly in place and against him, and with a heavy exhale you say the words he's been looking for since the conversation started.

“You, it's yours, I'm yours— fuck, Joong, please—“

You can't see it, but you can feel the curl of his lips against your ear as he grins at the breathy admission, kissing you delicately against your temple twice before whispering how well you've done and how good you are as he picks his pace back up. A handful of hard, pointed thrusts back into you and you come undone around him all over again — the tight squeeze of you subsequently bringing him to his orgasmic demise just after as he buries cock as deeply as he can to cum inside of you.

And one of your favorite things about the man — your too-wild-to-ever-meet-the-parents ex-boyfriend who drives the custom paint maroon RX-7 — is how no matter how insane he is, he's always kind and loving to you. so, as Hongjoong gently pulls himself from you, raining kisses on every inch of exposed flesh he can manage to get his mouth on, the only words spilling from his mouth being those of praise; how good you are, how beautiful you are, how amazing you are — some times, you think he might slip and tell you he loves you in such raw, intimate times.

And sometimes, you wonder why it is the two of you ever did break up.

Phone vibrating again, the screen illuminating to show once again for your boyfriend to be attempting to get a hold of you, you feel Hongjoong still from behind you as he catches notice before rolling back and away from you and most likely, in search of another cigarette.

Picking the device up, with a tone small and shy but with an attempt at playfulness, you dare make the attempt at a joke on the matter. “Can I answer it now?”

But with silence following shortly after as the vibration cycle carries on, you're met with the sound of a lighter flickering once, twice, three times — before an exhale, then a voice laden with smoke and maybe even a hint of disappointment, if you look hard enough.

“Do whatever you want.”

Getting into the illegal street racing thing wasn't exactly something you had in mind, and truthfully, sometimes you had a difficult time tracing back just when it had started with the way things took off in a bit of a whirlwind.

It's particularly due to the fact that you're not a racer yourself, that sometimes has you standing roadside at meets, contemplating the how's and why's of your whereabouts. With no interest in purchasing a project of your own, it started as a sort of hobby interest of yours and Chaerin's — your best friend of six years with a bit of a penchant for trouble as the years progressed. Never anything substantial or too risky — no drugs beyond the extremely rare instance, no theft — and sure, the illegal street racing thing in and of itself being of legal dubiety, it's not the worst thing a girl in her early twenties could find herself wrapped up in, that's for sure.

Besides, Chaerin had a bit of a respectable eye for partners. Boyfriends leaning far into the realm of honest and endearing, even upon dating within the circle of cars, the sort of 'bad boy' reputation for them that one would likely assume upon hearing of teams of men engaging in such activities in the dead of night — while occasionally true, after two or three tag along’s of yourself with your friend, you'd quickly come to realize that the majority of them were simply guys. Nothing special or out of the ordinary, most working through college and probably a bit more than they have to in order to fund their rather expensive hobby, some rich, trust fund kids with no issues affording whatever it was that they wanted to soup up their cars with — and when the dust had eventually settled, it was of little shock to yourself that you ended up somewhere in between.

You remember the night as if it was yesterday, only a year or so back at most anyways, Chaerin explicitly informing you that he was to be played with, and not locked down.

It seemed easy enough when you met Kim Hongjoong, at least.

A little rough around the edges being an understatement: handsome and from a rich family now a couple of years estranged but still not entirely cut off from the family wallet, sometimes you could swear that you could still make out the ways in which his sheltered, prissy upbringing that he had long since attempted to bolt down under lock and key would come through — a heavy smoker, a lighter drinker, and now stuck living in a ratty apartment just a ways out of town with his teammate, Seonghwa.

So, you had agreed, because most certainly this wouldn't be the kind of man you'd fall for, anyways. A girl has needs, however, and you quickly found Hongjoong to be more than willing to go above and beyond for them in more ways than one would likely consider to be present in a friends with benefits sort of arrangement. His willingness to do any and everything you desired sexually, evolving into exploration of sorts, you found that it happened almost naturally in the way he would begin staying over some nights instead of running home, bringing you dinner before playtime turning into going out together for dinner, and when Chaerin began noticing you showing up to car meets from the passenger side of Hongjoong's RX-7, albeit not entirely pleased with the development, she wasn't necessarily against it, either.

Your parents on the other hand, were an entirely different story.

If Hongjoong came off as rough around the edges to yourself, you could only imagine how he came off to your parents, and after one dinner with all of you together, the imagining was no longer necessary — spending the better part of an hour tearing into you about your choice in men; how Hongjoong was going nowhere in life, a deadbeat with no aspirations, a smoker, a drinker, and despite having not disclosed it, father dearest pulling no punches in just what it was that he thought about the whole illegal street racing thing.

A point of contention in what had naturally and easily transformed into a relationship with the man, more than quick hook ups and take out dinners — but there was romance and genuine caring — something special about the way that Hongjoong looked at you that you knew to be sincere.

And perhaps you were too weak-willed to manage it, the constant barrage of opinions and negativity from your family about the man you had chosen, and perhaps the relationship all too young to really weather the storm as it was, so when you told Hongjoong that the two of you should just remain friends, the disappointment was evident, but it wasn't the end of the world.

It was a little bit the end of the world, though, when Yunho came into the picture.

Moving into town a month before yours and Hongjoong's relationship ending, you had already found yourself rather well acquainted with the man in all of the worst ways: every terrible, off-putting version of Hongjoong that you figured to be buried deep down within him in hopes of never resurfacing, seemingly being all of the defining features of Jeong Yunho; mouthy, loud, and far too into himself for anyones good, really, you had only met him a handful of times at races before calling it quits with your then boyfriend, but Yunho had already long made a case for himself in squirming his way into your bedroom as Hongjoong vented about teammates losing races — and even worse, their cars — to the man in the black EVO and his team, Emperors.

How you ended up here, exactly, on a quiet Thursday night during a meet with Yunho to your right as he talks to one of his friends about a new backseat modification he's been considering for weight to his car, suppose that's where it gets a little murky.

Oh, and also the fact that you were just with Hongjoong the night before, too.

As the thoughts finally fall out of your mind, it's the feeling of a large hand on your bottom that jolts you out from them in totality, first looking down then just as quickly back up to your boyfriend.

A habit of getting handsy in public, like some bizarre expression of property owned and wishing for the entire world to see it, it had been a conversation more than three times by this point, so much so that you figure it best to simply give up on it.

“Come on, I told you I don't like that,” you whisper, it is not lost on you how willing you are to bend yourself as to not embarrass him all the while he cares little about granting you the same luxury.

With a slightly crooked smile, Yunho grins down at you before leaning forward and kissing you on the forehead. “It's just Mingi babe, he doesn't care.”

“I care.”

Yunho rolling his eyes at the snide response, pulling his hand from you entirely as if to withhold affection for your poor behavior, your eyes can't help but find Hongjoong well across the parking lot as he engages with his friends among his own team, Spiral.

Meeting your eyes, the interaction is brief, and guilt ridden all of the same.

In fact, Yunho's disinterest in your boundaries had already resulted in a verbal altercation between the two more than once, and that's not even including everything related to on the road.

Of course, Yunho had charms, otherwise leaving would be easy to do. Earlier on, especially — perhaps you a little too fresh off of your break up and more willing to be swept up and away by the tall, handsome, guy with dark red hair that your ex kind of hated but 'maybe he isn't so bad,' you remember thinking to yourself the first time he catches you out and about one random day — asking you to dinner later that night, paying, and giving you the best dick, perhaps, of your life.

You'd find that it doesn't take much time for the layers to peel themselves back, as people with much to hide typically find it difficult to keep up the ruse for all too long, but perhaps losing Hongjoong in your life — and especially for the reasons as such — a larger hole was left than you had initially imagined, now being filled by the rich guy who lets you pay for everything despite having money, doesn't respect your boundaries, and is often found to be in questionable locations more times than you'd like to really acknowledge.

One of the reasons you sort of don't feel bad when Hongjoong texts you late in the afternoon and asks if you want to meet at the usual spot.

But for whatever reason it is, you find it hard to let Yunho go — that even still, there are times late at night when your hand fits impossible perfectly into his as the both of you lie out on the lawn just outside of town and gaze up at the stars together — him telling stories about where he used to live and what he did before he got into street racing and him actually taking an interest in you and your life beyond just showing you off as the pretty little thing he gets to put his dick into — as it often feels in relation to him.

That makes it difficult, as affairs of the heart tend to be. It's never really so cut and dry.

As the end of the night rolls around, Chaerin comes to greet you with her boyfriend, Yeonjun on her arm — and her belongings diligently being held by him as well — both with smiles on their faces as head lights begin to pop on and engines start revving around them. Yunho plopping into the drivers side of his car, Chaerin leans over the open car door with her arm across to cushion her chin, and much to Yunho's visible disapproval.

“Long time, how've things been?”

A long time because Chaerin hates him and refuses to go to mutual gatherings that you invite him along to.

Yunho's eyes first darting to you before settling back to the blonde girl hanging from his car door window, the man leans forward to grip it and shake it free from her annoying grasp before shutting it and opening the window to continue on the conversation. “Fine. You guys going out tonight or something?”

Much to your surprise, you arrived with Yunho with every intention of leaving with him, so the fact that you now are not comes as news to you, and the shock across your features is not wasted on your best friend and her boyfriend.

“You brought her, you're not going to take her home?” She asks, attitude laden in her tone and no effort to conceal it whatsoever.

Yunho snorts, nodding his head towards you as he answers. “Tell your friend not to act like such a bitch in front of my friends, maybe i'll be more inclined to be nicer to her.”

“What are you even talking—“

“I'll take her home.”

A familiar, pitchy, voice, to you especially, piping up from behind the group of you and the twist in Yunho's features making it all the more evident as Hongjoong steps up between you and Chaerin — black and white leather jacket lazily zipped halfway up across his chest and incredibly fitted, lightly destroyed black jeans hugging his thighs. Brushing a hand through silver hair, he nods to you as if it's no big deal.

And as if he didn't have his face between your legs just last night. “What's up?”

“Nothing,” you answer just as carelessly. “Need a ride home, apparently.”

“Awww, little Joongie is so sweet,” Chaerin pipes up, slinging an arm up and around Hongjoong's shoulders in such an aggressively animated way that it nearly brings the man toppling down on top of her, but Yunho only rolls his eyes at the friendly display while huffing out a “whatever,” as he turns the car engine on with a rumbling vibration.

“We'll talk about this tomorrow,” he adds, flipping the car into reverse and rolling up his window before driving off to who knows where, and leaving you to pick up the pieces of how so many interactions between the two of you end up this way.

You sigh, less of anger or sadness, but rather the exhaustion of having become so used to this treatment — it not being the first time your boyfriend has done such a thing, after all.

Letting go of Hongjoong, Chaerin judges him in the arm with her elbow. “I could have taken her, you know.”

Sometimes you wonder if she knows, if she's caught onto the games the two of you play together when you think no one is looking, or none the wiser.

A relationship ended by word of mouth only, but really, nothing having really changed.

You and Hongjoong picked back up sleeping together only a week after breaking up, and never really stopped since. You can't help but wonder if she can tell in the way the two of you interact, how comfortable it is, how unchanged it is from back then.

“It's fine, she's on the way anyways.”

You're not, and everyone knows it.

“Alright well,” your friend begins, tying long, blonde hair into a tight ponytail and slinging an arm over her lovely partner to pull him along. “Be safe you guys, have a good night. Try to get her to break up with her shitty boyfriend, would you, Joong?”

A sly grin as a parting gift and she's off before you really have a chance to say anything to the comment. Hongjoong opting for silence on the topic himself as the rest of the cars clear and the two of you find yourselves the last ones on the cement — the scent of burned rubber and exhaust still lingering heavily in the air, the man next to you shrugs, looking almost sympathetic of you and your situation — a situation that you could just as easily find yourself out of, but sympathetic nonetheless.

Walking over to Hongjoong's car, he steps around to open the passenger side door for you first before circling back and allowing himself to fall into the drivers side of his own.

“Really wish you'd leave that dickhead,” he starts, ignition growling to a start and the inside panel of the car illuminating a bright blue — all custom work, exactly to his personal liking. “Only reason I still have a passenger seat is for when I have to pick up his slack.”

It feels a little bad when he says it like that, as if he feels the need to stick around, by your side, to play boyfriend #2 because #1 does such a dog shit job of it himself, and rather than abandon you to play with the hand that you've been dealt, Hongjoong stands by to try to make each sting at the hand of Jeong Yunho just a little bit easier to deal with — until you manage the strength to do what you know you need to and leave him once and for all.

“I know, sorry,” you mutter under your breath, feeling it necessary to offer the apology. Hongjoong pulling onto the road and driving off and into the night, one hand on the steering wheel, he glances over at you twice before grinning just slightly. “It's fine, you don't have to apologize.”

Turning to look out of the window, eyes still as glued to you as driving safely might allow, he replacing his right hand on the steering wheel with his left, allowing his right to settle onto your clothed thigh with no intent beyond comfort. “Hungry? Wanna grab something?”

“It's two in the morning,” you chuckle, the lightness of the sound bringing a much brighter smile to the mans lips even in spite of your accuracy regarding the situation. “Okay yeah, we can go back to my place? Seonghwa is there but it's fine.”

“It's late, I should probably just go home.”

You don't mean for it to sound so dejected as the sounds leave your lips, a culmination of so many things stirring around in your head all at once in regards to Hongjoong and Yunho both — you think of all of the ways that Hongjoong has always been so kind and good to you, even in the midst of a purely sexual relationship with him, where Yunho finds himself seemingly unwilling to meet you even halfway on simple things or gestures anymore — a man who won his prize and no longer finds it necessary to carry on. His dues paid, and once again, Hongjoong picking up the slack.

And as if some major cosmic joke, it's not lost on you how much your parents adore Yunho.

Never having learned of the street racing thing, on top of being much more cleaned up and presentable in appearance than the alternative — it's easy for Yunho to pull off the guy next door look, and for all intents and purposes, it is him, but in all of the worst ways, and the worst possible version of it. Arrogant and egotistical and unforgiving. Unloving. Manipulative, and in so many ways, cruel.

Like two personalities swapped from the bodies you would expect to find them — Hongjoong with a mouth on him for sure and probably incapable of uttering a sentence without an expletive in it, still kinder and more loving to you than perhaps Yunho has ever been.

And worse than that, you suspect for more than one reason that Yunho is meeting with an unidentified woman this evening. The unmentionable fact that everyone seems to know about but no one talks about, and no one tells you.

But suppose that may be fair and square, after all.

As Hongjoong's car rolls to a gentle stop in front of your parents home, you know what it will result in in the morning — them chewing you out for once again being out with the man that they loathe so much, but unbeknownst to them, the one willing to get their daughter home safe and sound — you let out a heavy exhale as he turns the ignition off and the both of you open car doors to exit from his and greet the chilly, spring air awaiting you.

Watching as the man settles himself against the dark red vehicle full of labor, love and more than all, money, you can't help how natural it feels to bring your arms up and around his neck — and happy to greet you, his own falling downwards and wrapping lightly around your waist to pull you tighter against his torso as foreheads close the space between them.

“Getting daring,” Hongjoong sighs just centimeters from your mouth, referencing the rather public display of affection despite it being the absolute dead of night and not a soul to be seen within eye shot.

“Thanks for taking me home,” you ignore his words in favor of your own and with a sly tone to them at that, as if hoping that the man may have the audacity to make a move on you like this.

But you know Hongjoong well, and what he's into, and enticing him into this takes little to no effort at all.

Shifting to press the top of your thigh against his crotch, feeling the already blooming hardness beneath his pants, you're able to watch in real time as his expression turns slightly lust-fueled as he pulls the door open to the drivers side once again and seats himself on the side of the chair with his legs hanging out. pulling you along with and down towards his face, it's then that he finally kisses you — as if making enough of an effort to do the best he can to conceal these sorts of rendezvous between you — it's hard and needy, all teeth and little tongue as he devours you while you settle on your knees between his own and his hands turn downward to fumble with the belt and button of his jeans.

“You and your risky sex,” you tease, waiting for him to expose his dick for you, but Hongjoong huffs out a laugh in his haste, as if well aware of it himself.

“I'll fuck you against the car if you want.”

“What if my parents saw?” you answer with a quirked eyebrow as he finally frees his length from the confines of his jeans, hand quickly wrapping around him and delicately stroking him.

“Hope they tell Yunho.”

“You're so annoying,” and with a roll of your eyes, you press yourself forward to wrap warm, wet lips around the girth of his cock. Fingers immediately reaching up and tangling into your hair with the first dip of your head along him, you know that in scenarios like this — Hongjoong's favorite thing being having you in places and situations he has no business taking you — he'll get handsy, and he'll cum quick, and for this, both are ideal.

“God, fuck, you feel so good,” Hongjoong chimes with a groan, fingers tightening in your strands just a bit more along with the noticeable raise of his hips up and into your mouth as you bob along his cock in timed, rhythmic strokes — you think it can't be longer than a minute or two before he's whimpering expletives and praise from between his lips as you take him deep into your mouth to swallow his load down as he comes. Pulling back off of him and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, the man leans down and kisses you on the mouth — an open mouth kiss, not at all chaste or unwilling to taste himself or what you've just done on you.

“I want to see you Saturday after the race.”

You hate to ruin the mood with the information, but suppose honesty is the best policy even in scenarios where you're watching the man you're cheating on your boyfriend with tuck his softening dick back into his pants.

“Think...I have plans with Yunho that night.”

It's meek, partly because you hate saying the words to your ex, and also partly because with the way that Yunho is, who knows if that will even happen.

But Hongjoong takes it in stride as you pull away from him, standing to clear yourself out of the way so that he can pull his legs back into the car and get ready to see you off for the night.

“Well, think about it,” he begins the thought casually, and you think he may actually end it off that well if not for the sharp inhale that follows afterwards. “I'm sure you could think of an excuse, something like 'oh, I want to get fucked by my ex-boyfriend who has a sexier car and is also way better at driving than you are, you fucking loser.' would do the trick?”

Leaning down once again, you kiss Hongjoong on the mouth — quick, but bringing your hand up and to the side of his head as you do so, the touch lingers long after the kiss ends, the man leaning into it as if offering a newly unlocked form of adoration and intimacy not previously felt tonight.

“Get some sleep,” you mutter, finally pulling from him.

Hand through short blonde hair, he smiles back at you with a nod. “Anything for you, darling.”

And watching him drive off into the foggy night, all you can think is how could your parents be so wrong.

“Hey sweetness—“

Barely jarring you from your sleep, the words comfort your ears in some strange way, like warmth itself uttered despite not even being sure that you're actually awake, actually hearing them — the dipping on the other side of the bed, however, doing a much better job of making you aware of the fact that this is, in fact, real life and not a dream. Groggy and attempting to bring yourself to cohesion, you roll onto your other side beneath warm blankets — the light from the morning, or early afternoon, which ever it is you can't be too sure just yet, shining through barely pulled apart, black out blinds.

The first thing you notice being how unfamiliar the man smells to you.

Hair damp and gently sticking to his forehead — evidence of a shower taken prior to visiting you, it's something that you've sort of made peace with, gotten used to.

But you've been to Yunho's enough to know that this isn't what his shampoo smells like.

Of course it's not fair for your chest to twist the way it does at the realization, Yunho's hand coming up to delicately press strands of your hair away from your face with a smile before leaning towards you and planting a kiss to your exposed forehead.

“I brought breakfast.”

Your lips curling upwards, a reaction that you can't help in relation to the kindness that your boyfriend extends to you, you're reminded of all of the ways and reasons that you feel for him, and even now, stay with him.

You figure no one's perfect, after all. We all have our faults.

And some of them, you share.

“Mom let you in?” you whisper, voice laden with sleep heaviness as you stretch arms out above you. you already know the answer, because your mother adores him and is ecstatic every time the man makes the effort to show his face around.

“Of course,” he chimes with another toothy smile, proud of himself for the accomplishment in having won over your parents. “Brought them something, too.”

Sitting up in bed slowly, nothing but a loose tank top and panties clinging to your body, you finally glance out and towards your computer — screensaver touting a comforting time of the day for you to see; 9:22, and you're happy that you haven't overslept despite still being tired from being out so late the night before.

Line of thought serving as a reminder of the activities also having taken place.

“We don't have to rush down,” Yunho adds as his hand begins it's slow journey between the sheets and beyond that, between your legs. Long, thin fingers dipping underneath your panties and wasting no time finding their mark between your folds — you sigh into the touch, and you'd be lying if you had attempted to tell yourself you weren't craving some release after the activities of only a handful of hours prior.

Perhaps fucked up on a number of levels, willing to give Yunho the pleasure of getting you off as a result of Hongjoong's hard work earlier.

But that also kind of does it for you, as well.

It flashes across your mind briefly, knowing but not knowing Yunho's whereabouts while you were out and about with Hongjoong, so maybe it was what you deserved — someone's sloppy seconds — melting into the touch your boyfriend offers as he shifts over and between your legs, pulling the sheets from you and beginning the hasty work of his pants button. You reach up, hands gripping at his black t-shirt to pull him down and against you as he barely catches himself with a palm against the mattress before crushing you — both of you laughing against each other lips at the clumsiness of just wanting to feel the other in a rush with little time at your disposal — Yunho kisses you like there's no time at all before dipping down towards your neck and sucking into the sensitive skin just below your ear.

“Lemmie fuck you with your panties on,” he whispers, finally freeing his cock from his pants just enough to grant him the ability to take you.

“Please,” you whine, his fingers already pulling at the sides to give himself access before your answer even rings out from between your lips — the scent of where ever it was that he had been now overwhelming your senses, it feels so bizarre how your body physically reacts to it — the knowledge of him being in places or arms where he shouldn't dare be and now coming back to you — tip of his length already pushing into you with a heavy exhale from both and bottoming out fast despite his length and your lack of prep, it's something that you've never quite gotten used to even after all of these times together, and especially in the circumstances of a quickie.

But god did you want it bad right now.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” another admission from him straight against your ear — breaths hot and humid on your skin, your eyes clamp shut at the feeling of being so filled by him just as he makes his first withdraw and push back inside of you — a hard, rough, snap of his hips that has you reeling and moaning out for him already.

This was typically how you and Yunho worked out your problems.

A few minutes down, your hands wrapped into your boyfriends hair, you whimper against his neck to fuck you harder, and feeling the nearly sinister curl of his lips you know he's happy to oblige the request — two, three harsher fucks into you, Yunho quickly slips the hand not supporting his weight over you down and between your legs to rub into your clit harshly to get you to cum around him.

“Yeah baby, cum for me,” he whispers into your ear, words cut up and jerked out from the own movement of his body. “Cum with me baby, I'm close.”

“Fuck, Yunho—“

Whining out for him as your muscles clench around him, orgasm taking you with the help of his handy work and his words (and perhaps a bit of the memory of Hongjoong cumming down your throat a few hours prior), you cum hard — hands coming down to grip into his shoulders, Yunho pulls up to fuck you harder and faster as he chases his own just behind you — the evidence of your nails digging into his clothed skin evident across his features as a splash of pain flashes across — but it's only seconds later that he groans, burying himself almost painfully deep inside of your cunt as he paints your walls with his release — then two more lazy, shallow thrusts into you before gently lying himself atop your torso with a heavy, contented, sigh.

For whatever reason, it's times like this especially that you want to ask him where he was.

Why he has to go elsewhere — if it's you, him, or a culmination of the two that causes him to do the things he does.

When you hear your phone vibrate on your nightstand just as Yunho slips out of you and pushes himself back inside of his pants, you know it's Hongjoong.

“When are you going to break up with that guy, anyways?”

Not the ideal first thing to hear upon meeting up with your best friend, but not surprising, either, after the events of the night before.

Setting your bag down on an empty chair at the table, Chaerin watches you intently with her arms crossed in front of her chest, one eyebrow perked up as if somewhat judging even though you know she doesn't, not really.

Both of you in lazy t-shirts and jeans, a far cry from the bit of dress up each of you tend to play when it comes to car related events, you realize it's become rare that the two of you meet this casually — with how busy both of you are with your respective lives.

“Nice to see you, too,” you chime back sarcastically as you sit yourself down at the table. grabbing towards a menu, Chaerin pops her hand out to stop you from taking it.

“I already ordered, don't change the subject!”

“I hardly think ordering food at a restaurant is changing the subject...”

“You know he's cheating on you.”

Hearing the words sting, but not as much as they would if you weren't doing the exact same thing, you guess.

Clearing your throat uncomfortably and looking around in an attempt to find any prying eyes or ears that may be listening in on your conversation, you lean across the table towards your friend with a sigh. “I don't know that, Chaerin.”

Sitting back in her chair with a huff, the blonde rolls her eyes. “Give me a break, you're smarter than that, you know. You're fine with it?”

“I mean, I don't know.”

“Beyond that, he treats you like shit anyways, what the fuck was all of that last night? Just abandoning you at the meet?”

“I knew plenty of people there who could take me home,” you quietly offer as argument, much to Chaerin's dismay.

“Gotta be honest with you,” she starts, eyes pulling away from you momentarily as if unsure of the right way to go about the rest of the conversation. “I don't think he really cared all that much about whether you did or not. Let your ex take you home so he could go fuck some other—“

“Chaerin—“

“I'm just saying.”

Silence befalling the table just as wait staff arrive with the previously ordered food, you exhale heavily at the sight of everything sprawled out in front of you, and the suffocating knowledge of everything just discussed.

Hardly much for making an appetite.

“I need to tell you something,” you pipe up suddenly, and much to your friends surprise. you watch as her eyes slowly pull towards your own, waiting for the bomb you have to drop, and boy, is it a doozy, too.

“I've...I've actually been—“

“Oh, what the fuck, hey.”

Once again, piped up out of no where, and you're sort of beginning to curse living in such a small city where so few restaurants reign as the supreme places to go — you already know who awaits your eyesight before ever turning towards him, but it's the sight of him dressed in his Spiral gear that is what takes you by surprise more than anything.

That, and the fact that you were just about to tell Chaerin about your ongoing involvement.

“Now, why are you everywhere?” Chaerin greets with a smile before playfully nodding in your direction. “You stalking your ex?”

“She's got enough problems without the whole crazy ex-boyfriend thing, i'll spare her the trouble,” Hongjoong snorts just before sitting himself into another empty chair at your table.

It's awkward — because you feel as though everyone knows a secret but it can't be spoken. Perhaps that is the case, after all. Too many secrets.

“She was just about to tell me something and now you came and ruined it, thanks a lot,” your friend jokes just before scooping a fork full of meat into her mouth. Hongjoong turns to glance at you — as if knowing fully well what it was that you were about to disclose to the woman — and with a devilish grin and an elbow on the table to cradle his chin: “Oh really? Do tell.”

He definitely knows.

“It's...nothing. Girl talk.”

You make the decision to bring your hands into your lap, for fear of them visibly shaking should you bring them up to eye sight.

“I'm sure it is,” he replies with a tone that you can only describe as knowing. “Anyways, just picking up food for the guys down at the shop — Seonghwa's been working nonstop on the car for tomorrow so he can be ready to beat your shitty little boyfriend.”

Chaerin laughs, a woman with no particular horse in the race aside from hating that man, and with Hongjoong standing back up, you send him off with a hello for Seonghwa in particular.

A race planned for over a month now, and not one that you've been looking forward to, either. Yunho doing what he does — challenging drivers from opposing teams to races for their pink slips, and it's unsurprising that anyone from Spirals would ever turn down the opposition — if you get challenged by Emperors, you have to accept.

Not accepting is as good as losing, anyways.

You wonder why it is that neither Yunho nor Hongjoong have ever challenged one another — bringing it up one evening over a couple of beers with your partner, and Yunho's only answer being that he doesn't even want Hongjoong's 'shitty RX-7.'

The irony being, of course, that Hongjoong and Seonghwa drive the same make.

Phone vibrating from your pocket shortly after Hongjoong leaves, you pull it from your jeans to illuminate the screen and view the notification gracing the lockscreen.

>Aunty H: gonna tell your bestie you're still getting dick on the side? she'd probably be thrilled lmao

Looking up towards your friend across the table for a split second before unlocking your phone to reply — as if she somehow has the ability to know what it is that the man said to you from the back of your device, you feel as though every eye in the entire world rests on you in this moment. Perhaps not the best time for this conversation, after all.

>You: I don't like keeping the secret from her, idk. she hates Yunho for it when i'm doing the same thing.

Hongjoong begins typing back so quickly you believe him to simply be sitting in his car in the parking lot just outside to have this conversation in the moment.

>Aunty H: she hates Yunho because he's a piece of shit and on top of that he can't keep it in his pants either. not the same. speaking of, I want to see you tomorrow night after the race

>You: I told you I have plans with Yunho

>Aunty H: you fuck him since last night?

Rolling your eyes, you pause for a moment to think over your response. It's really none of his business, but given the circumstances — suppose everyone's sexual whereabouts be everyone else's business.

>You: don't do that

>Aunty H: i'll see you saturday

It doesn't feel good, the circumstances you've allowed yourself to fall into, but at the same time — the promise of what Saturday night may hold — after the sounds of tires screeching and adrenaline pumping through every vein subsides, what either man may have in store for you, depending on how the evening turns out.

And perhaps, it's time to get it the fuck together and make an actual decision, too.

 More than anything, it's the familiar scent of exhaust, fuel, and burnt rubber that you've come to find comforting, a sense of home in the strangest sense.

Dozens of cars lined up on the outside of the road — a long, winding trail of only two lanes, one each way — that is tonight’s destination. a sheen of wetness on the ground from rain much earlier on in the evening, not ideal driving circumstances for most, but for the more experienced drivers — the ones that experience an even higher thrill from the danger, the unexpectedness of it — it's ideal. Hongjoong specifically, touted as a master of the pin hair corner drift, and especially out of Spirals, you know it to be precisely the sort of weather that he wishes to be racing in.

But tonight isn't his night, it's his best friend, Seonghwa's.

A tall, beautiful man with long, black hair and often clad in all black leather, black jeans, and his hair tied up into a half ponytail — he's far from the kind of person most would expect to find at a place like this — currently bent in half and over the engine of his matte black RX-7 making the finishing preparations for his race against your main squeeze.

With the leader of the crew standing just beside him, of which you are well acquainted.

And on nights like this, you belong to Emperors.

Race nights turn into strictly 'friendship aside' events, at least, once Yunho and Emperors started coming around. A group of street racers all intermingling and enjoying one another's company once before, now heavily segregated and pushed apart — the need to choose sides becoming apparent once Emperors began racing people for their cars, and subsequently, Spirals member and long time friend of Hongjoong's, Jongho, losing his to Mingi.

So now, as you with Yunho to your side pass by Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and the rest of Spirals with your own little band of Emperors tagging just behind, a few glances are all that are exchanged between the lot of you, with eyes between you and your ex lingering just a bit longer than some may even notice at a glance.

Yunho's hand slipping down from around your shoulders to your waist only to linger there for a moment before trailing down and to your ass — right in Hongjoong's line of vision, you snap your head up and towards your boyfriend to tell him off for far from the first time for such a grievance—

Only to find his attention far from you, and rather, on that of the man who only a few months prior called you his own, himself.

Following the tall man to his vehicle and settling yourself against the side of it as he settles himself inside of the drivers seat, you spare yourself the bother of looking him in the eye to reprimand him for the behavior, simply looking out and towards the scene before you of people laughing, enjoying themselves — people with nothing to lose tonight, only here to enjoy a show, and hopefully, everyone making it out in one piece.

“How many times do I have to tell you—“

“Yeah yeah, I know, why's it such a big deal to you? a lot of women would like having me show them off, ya know.”

“Yeah? a lot of women?” you say with a snide bite to your tone, finally turning to face him. “Guess you'd know, wouldn't you?”

Raising his eyebrows in surprise at the retort, Yunho pauses before curling his lips into a smirk. “Anything else, princess? I've got shit to do tonight, like take your little pals' friends' car.”

“Why do you have to be like that with him? With them?”

As much of a surprise as it is to Yunho — the sudden aggressiveness to you that you never having displayed towards him before for all of his transgressions — it's just as much a surprise to yourself. Knowing fully well that the outcome of enough of this could easily result in the dissolution of your relationship with the man.

And you wonder, if that's a price you're willing to pay. You also wonder, if this is effectively you slamming your hand down on the self-destruct button.

“I'm not being like anything,” he snaps back, ignition of his car roaring on and gently pushing you out of the way so that he can shut his car door. “Back where I'm from, anywhere where people actually race, people drive for pink slips all of the time. Those are the stakes. It's not my fucking problem that everyone here wants to play carebears and rainbows and no one actually wants to drive.”

“You're such an asshole, you know that? Why can't you just fit in? Assimilate? Why does everything have to be about your fucking ego all of the time?”

“Well babe,” he sighs, pressing his car into drive and effectively communicating to you that the conversation is over — something that you're well aware of already with calls for the drivers to come to the front lines. “You wanted to be with me, and you still are, so what does that say about you?”

Silence takes you, chewing on the inside of your lip — you do wonder.

“Get your attitude in check by the time the race is over,” he adds just before rolling off. “I have a much better use for your mouth in mind than all of this bullshit.”

With that, your boyfriend slowly rolls off and towards the starting line, glancing over and across the cement, you watch as Hongjoong pulls up from Seonghwa's drivers side window for his friend to carry on doing the same, and as if feeling your gaze upon him, turns to meet eyes with your own.

It's ill-advised to be seen mingling in a place like this, during a night like this, so instead, you're barred to stolen glances through midnight fog and cigarette smoke.

Stepping up with your jacket clutched inwards towards your chest, you stand alongside another Emperors driver, Yeosang — a shorter guy with a wicked birthmark adorning his face — as Seonghwa and Yunho meet up at the starting line in the dead of night, awaiting the referees announcements to begin preparation. First, it's a rundown of the rules for the race; very little of them, given that it is illegal street racing, but effectively boiling down to 'don't intentionally do things that put you or others at higher risk of injury or death,' then it's how the countdown to start will begin shortly. You meet eyes with Yunho — the car closest to you — a stare cold and disinterested and lacking any emotional care for you at all, so when he pulls his eyes away and back towards the wet road ahead of him, your eyes wander further out and towards Seonghwa, who also greets you.

A silent nod that the two of you share, as if agreeing on a preferable outcome for the evening.

The truth is that Jeong Yunho's reputation certainly be fitting of him: a good driver, skilled, and with a fast car, at that.

Seonghwa was good, great, even — but technically outmatched — and part of the evil that shrouded Emperors reputation, as well. A sort of 'pick on someone your own size' mentality certainly lost on them.

Yunho had never challenged Hongjoong, and for that, many thought there to be a reason.

With the buzzer sounding for the impending countdown, your hands gripping the steel of the barrier erected between the viewers and the street in front, you inhale sharply the scent of the dewy night sky, and all in all, can only hope for each of them to make it out in one piece.

Then, the familiar scent of a certain cigarette evading your senses.

Three, two, one, go.

Tires screeching, the two pull off lightning quick, and you're disappointed in the fact that from where you stand, you'll see very little of it until the end — people already beginning to move towards the finishing line to have the perfect view of the outcome, you feel the familiar presence of not one, but two people coming up on either side of you: Chaerin, and Hongjoong, naturally.

“You're late,” you nod to your friend, her nodding in response.

“Purposefully, I don't need to watch Emperors all circle jerk each other off pre-race, seen it enough times as it is.”

Hongjoong snorts at the comment from the other side of you before taking a drag of his already lit cigarette as it sits between freshly painted fingers.

“What do you think?” you ask him, tone lower and less playful than the one you had just had with Chaerin a moment ago. The man hums, looking up and into the night sky before stepping back again with intent to head towards the finish line as well.

“Yunho will probably win,” he states, matter of a fact. “But it's fine, we have cars. Paint job on his was expensive though so that'll probably hurt.”

“He has a lot of money in that car,” you sigh disappointingly, and Hongjoong nods. “Yeah, he does.”

“We should go,” Chaerin chimes with a nudge into your arm.

The thought of Yunho taking, and taking from the people and places that mean so much to you without giving much of anything back weighing heavier and heavier on your heart and soul with each passing day, you find.

Seonghwa figures that for a race like this, the fact that it's an uphill track works out in his favor — with the roads wet and gravity defying, top speeds peak relatively low, which means that despite Yunho having far more time and money into his car, what it will really come down to is skill, and knowledge — two things that the man with the ponytail feels he has leaps and bounds of over his opponent. a course he's done countless times, and Yunho, only a handful since moving here, it lends itself to being the course that people test, especially when it comes to the hairpin drift.

It's Hongjoong's favorite, too.

Hitting the shift and snapping his car forward with Yunho just behind, the two take the first turn — not an especially difficult one, but Seonghwa notices that already he feels the road give way a bit beneath his vehicle at the speed in which he's driving as he momentarily loses the back end of the car — it's not a loss, nothing that his opponent can gain on having immediately straightened out for a bit just past it — but Seonghwa takes note of the fact regardless, being well aware of the kinds of twists and turns that await them just a bit further up the road.

For Yunho, however, the turn is of little concern to him, happily trailing behind his opponent for the time being as he grins at the sight of the much lesser experienced driver just ahead of him lose it in the tail end of the corner. 'A good sign,' he thinks to himself, not that he was worried to begin with — considering this to be just another easy win for his team to collect under their belts.

The next corner proves to be much tighter, and much more difficult to navigate — for Seonghwa, at least. Slamming his shift to hit the drift at just the precise moment, heart leaping into his chest as he steals a second to stare back into his rear view mirror to check on how Yunho is handling it, it gives him little comfort watching the way that Yunho navigates the track with his vehicle, and with a lump in his throat, slams his shift once again for the next oncoming turn — a hard right following the previous hard left — and with it being a relatively short track with no long straightaways after the last hairpin corner for Yunho to gain on him with an objectively faster and more powerful car, if he can manage to avoid allowing his opponent the space to overtake in one of the turns, or worse, lose control of his car and give Yunho the race for free — that it should be an easy win for the man on Team Spirals.

Shifting gear, Seonghwa slams on the break just enough to hit his drift just right, this time not losing the back end at all — a comforting sign, glancing back at the EVO behind him and still trailing — a short straight drive before the last sharp left, and subsequently the end of the race — this being the make or break of the entire competition.

Shifting again to hit his drift — tires screeching and the smell of burning rubber carrying so heavy in the air that surely everyone waiting at the top of the mountain can feel the heaviness of the impending end, Seonghwa glances back again to look towards the tall man with the dark, red hair in his rearview mirror—

But this time, he finds no one there looking back at him.

Panic settling hard and fast into his chest, the man looks over to his side, Yunho now having crept up just next to him on the same drift — unaware of how it is that he's able to gain on a hairpin turn such as this one but without the ability to think much of it now — and sure, through numerous races between he and Hongjoong on this very same track, it's not unheard of, and has happened before.

But tonight, of all nights.

Yunho looking over at the panicking driver with a cool and collected demeanor as he slams his shift to carry a straighter drive just a second faster than Seonghwa — the man can't help but let out an exasperated 'fuck!' to no one as he follows suit but all too late in the grand scheme of things — seconds of drive feeling like a collection of years in the moment and the outcomes resulting the same, all it takes it one second — and in situations such as this one, it's the Emperors leader Jeong Yunho who effortlessly shows his skill, precision, and experience. all within one seconds time.

Coming out of the turn, the lights from the awaiting crowd in full view as Yunho rips forward and ahead of Seonghwa who only straightens out his own vehicle just after — and in less than ten seconds, the race is over as the both of them cross the finish line.

Trying to temper your frown at the result, and pulling away from Hongjoong before Yunho can catch you in his eyesight of being with the man, you notice the way he chews on the inside of his cheek contemplatively — disappointed, but not surprised.

As you make your way through the crowd and towards your boyfriend — stepping tall and proud from his vehicle with a smug grin on his face as if the entire world rest in his palm, it's a bubbling feeling of disgust, and maybe even resentment that starts to churn within you at the sight of him.

The cheers from other Emperors members and fans alike ringing through your ears, too loud, too obnoxious to stand listening to for too long, Yunho catches sight of you before you have a chance to duck out of the group of people, stepping forward and taking you by the hand to pull you towards him and into a kiss for the people to see.

When he finally releases you, you catch eyes with Hongjoong in the back of the standing people — cigarette dangling between pretty lips and eyes rolling as he turns back to console the loser of the race.

“Problem, Chief.”

The words come from Mingi — driver, racer, mechanic and closest friend of Yunho's, so you know it's not good when the both of you quickly turn your attention to the man with his attention hard pressed into the windshield of your boyfriends car.

“Man, come on, what now!” Yunho whines as he steps around and next to his friend to view whatever it is that is the issue.

Pointing a finger towards a large crack in the glass — spanning from the bottom right corner all of the way up to nearly the center, Mingi doesn't even really have to say it before the red head starts groaning with his head tossed back. “Give me a fuckin' break.”

“You didn't notice?” Mingi asks with a bit of a chuckle, as if completely unsure how that could be, but Yunho shrugs. “I heard something hit it but I just thought it was a small rock, I didn't think it would be all of this.”

“You can't drive it like this, we'll have to bring it back to the shop tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, I know,” your boyfriend groans again, the largest inconvenience in the world now being presented just before him. “Good thing I just gained a new car, I guess.”

It sends chills down your spine, only now being reminded of exactly what it was that was on the line for this race.

With a sinister tone and a single corner of his mouth upturning, Mingi chuckles. “Better go collect, then.”

Slinging an arm up and around your shoulders a bit more roughly than you would have liked, Yunho leans down just a bit to plant a kiss on the top of your head as he pulls you forward and towards the group of Spirals only a few feet away.

“Just another pretty little thing I get to take from these bums.”

The words twisting your stomach into knots all over again, there had always been a sneaking suspicion deep within your soul that somewhere in there, at the end of the day, there was no respect for you, no love for you, nothing genuine at all.

Just another possession that Yunho wished to acquire, as he had been his entire time there.

Shouting out and towards the grouping of guys, Seonghwa leaning with his back against his car and quite evidently to you trying to play his loss cool — you've known him long enough to know how much he loves that car, and how badly it stings for him to lose it.

You hate to see it, and more than that, you hate to see it be lost to Emperors.

“You cracked my windshield, fuckboy,” Yunho shouts — the tone is playful, but it's more fuel to the fire you can tell from the way Hongjoong's jaw tightens as he clenches it in an attempt to be a good sport about the whole ordeal. “Time to pay up, I need to get me and the girl home, after all.”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa sighs, turning to lean into his car and popping the dashboard compartment to retrieve the title, it's then that the sound of Hongjoong stepping up from the side can be heard.

“What can I do to keep Seonghwa's car?”

At first a sweeping moment of silence, before a crashing sound and what you can only imagine to be Seonghwa slamming his head against his dash in shock at the proclamation by his friend as the man hisses and is found to be rubbing the back of it upon pulling himself out of the side of the vehicle — but with short silver hair and similarly short in stature — especially compared to your boyfriend, Hongjoong stands firm in front of the man, arms crossed in front of his chest as he awaits a response.

Yunho looking at him with one quirked eyebrow before glancing down towards you with a lopsided grin, he looks back up at Hongjoong through eyelashes before delivering his short-thought response.

“Kind of bad form to beg me not to take my spoils, don't you think?” he asks smugly. “Kind of pathetic, ya know?”

“You don't need it, you guys only drive EVO's anyways, who cares.”

“Hardly the point,” he says, matching Hongjoong's stance as he pulls from you and crosses his arms to stand straight — and even taller — in front of your ex. “We had an agreement, and I won fair and square, the car is mine.”

“What, so you can rip it for parts?” Hongjoong asks.

“No, so I can trash it where it belongs.”

Snorting at the pissy response, the shorter of the two glances away for a second, chewing on the inside of his cheek again before turning back to carry on the conversation, but it's Seonghwa who interjects before he's able to.

“Hongjoong, it's fine, he won.”

“Actually, it's not,” he says, this time more pointed than his previous tone. “I don't think it is fine, actually, so what can I do to keep my mans car?”

Watching the three go back and forth causing anxiety to bubble up in your gut, unsure of the lengths in which any of the men are willing to go to in order to get their points across, you give it some thought yourself — if there's anything that you can do to settle this situation between all of them yourself. the person with the most dealings with all parties involved, now standing by on the sidelines as the two teams attempt to hash it out — and not well, at that, your mind races in an attempt to come to an answer, but before you're able, you feel the discomforting gaze of your partner raining down on you from just above, all before any words even leave his mouth.

“Well babe, what do you think? Should we let the poor guy keep his ratty ol' car?”

You know a set up when you see it — or in this case, when you hear it.

Glancing towards Hongjoong, his eyes pull away almost immediately, you figure as to not attempt to pressure you into making a decision one way or another — and not knowing how much weight your decision holds, that earlier anxiety continues creeping up through your chest, and into your throat.

You know that one thing is for sure: doing the right thing most certainly will come with consequences.

“Well?”

Inhaling slowly, deeply, you make your decision.

“Let Seonghwa keep the car.”

You try not to engage in eye contact with your boyfriend, knowing full well that his gaze remain laser focused on you especially now, but the curiosity getting the best of you as you glance upwards to meet angry, disappointed eyes — the strangest result of an expression of compassion awaiting you — Yunho hums just barely audibly before forcing a grin and looking back up and towards the Spirals members.

“Lady says fuckboy keeps his car, so fuckboy keeps his car.”

One part relieved at the outcome, one part surprised by your word carrying any weight with the man, and the last concerned about the result of this in regards to your relationship with Yunho, slinging an arm up and around your shoulder again, he hurries you off and away from the men.

But regardless of what happens now, you know that you've done the right thing — and maybe for once you'll be able to sleep well tonight.

“We're gonna go to the bar, wanna come?”

Yeosang's voice ringing out as the two of you step forward, Yunho abruptly pulls his arm from you as he carries forward and towards the friends glossy white EVO — and waving a hand up in the air, he bids you farewell in a turn of events that you find not all that surprising anymore.

“Get a ride home with your pals,” he rings out, tone venomous and contemptuous. “In the ratty old RX-7, all used up and past its prime—“ he scoffs as he opens the passenger side door.

“—Kinda reminds me of someone else I know.” He says, finishing the thought before sliding inside of the car and slamming the door shut.

The words don't hurt — not from him. It's an anticipated outcome from a calculated risk that you decided to take.

But they show the mans true colors all the same.

As you watch your boyfriend and his friends drive off to enjoy the rest of their victory evening without you — shooting you knowing glances all the while — you contemplate sending the text message then and there, the one ending your relationship with him once and for all. A break up via text, perhaps precisely what he deserves for his thoughtlessness towards you, anyways, but still extending yourself much further for him than perhaps the man would ever do for you.

Save it for another day, and try to enjoy the rest of your evening.

Sauntering back over towards Spirals, Chaerin now joining the fray, she looks up at you from beneath Seonghwa's popped hood — having been checking out his engine as you dealt with the disaster on the other side of the asphalt.

But as she flashes you with a wide smile, it's all the more indication that what you had done was right.

“You're in big trouble, aren't you?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

Sighing, you shrug. “Looks like I need another ride home tonight.”

Hongjoong popping up from the drivers side of Seonghwa's car, where the tallest man is sat and about ready to head off for the night and overhearing the conversation, he sends you a knowing look from across matte black paint that may now still remain in the company of his teammate, and all thanks to you.

With Chaerin and Seonghwa being the last two to drive off, and leaving only you and your ex-boyfriend at the top of the hill, you place your bag into the passenger side seat of Hongjoong's car before shutting the door and leaning against it with your chest — arms crossed along the top as you wait for the man on the other side to finish doing the same and come up to meet your eyes.

“Surprised you did it,” he says as he does, pulling at the collar of his leather jacket to loosen it just a bit. “Guess I don't have to ask if he's pissed since you're here.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, long since accepting of the outcome of the situation and having made peace with it. “He'll get over it.”

“Why's his car still here, anyway?”

“Crack in the windshield,” you reply with a shrug. “Karma, maybe.”

“Oh, definitely,” he chimes back with a snort. “Lemmie see this thing.”

The two of you walking back over towards Yunho's car, long since abandoned and awaiting it's rescue in the early morning hours (or not so early, depending on how the night out goes), you recall this being the exact spot where you and Hongjoong shared your first kiss — first romantic kiss — past the veil of a friends with benefits arrangement, more raw and exposed and knowing between you both; a much chillier night than this and much windier when he finally pulled you in for it with no other intentions beyond it, and the words that you had secretly been wanting to hear for weeks before then.

'I think we should just see each other, only, what do you think?'

“Oh man, that's a fuckin' doozy!”

High pitched laughter ringing through the night air and straight through the memory, effectively bringing you back to the present, your attention pulls back to Hongjoong, leaned over the side hood of Yunho's EVO to laugh at your boyfriends misfortune. “No wonder he was so hard up for Seonghwa's car, fuckin' scumbag.”

Meeting him at his side to take a look at the damage again, you smile at Hongjoong's joy in it, knowing it's well deserved, and most earned.

“Looks like I got you to myself tonight, after all.”

It's sort of a sudden change, the way his body shifts to pull away from the vehicle only enough to plant you further against it, and underneath him — arms on either side of you, caging you in with little option for escape from the man.

Not that you really wanted to, anyway.

Hongjoong leans in towards your face, lips grazing the skin of your cheek on their way towards your ear — the contact sending a shiver down your spine — some bizarre taboo of being held like this by him against such a prized possession of your boyfriends — but suppose that makes two of them, now well within Hongjoong's grasp currently.

“Have the keys?”

For a second you wonder what he's referring to, before it dawns on you that he's referring to the car, and with a shake of your head to protest. “No, only Mingi has another set.”

“Damn,” he whispers against the shell of your ear as a hand dips down and makes its way between your legs to palm at you. “That's okay, we can make due.”

Devilish in tone, you melt into the touch as he begins pulling at the buttoning of your jeans, face turning upwards and pulling your mouth into his — his tongue tasting of cigarette and coffee in anticipation of a long night ahead, you happily lean into it as your arms sling up and around his neck to pull him harder against you.

Shimmying your pants down your legs, he pulls away from your mouth only long enough to slink down to free one of your feet from the restrictive clothing, hiking your leg up and around his hip as he comes back up to meet your mouth for the second round of devouring you — cool metal greeting your behind as he presses you harder against the vehicle, you moan into his mouth as a finger presses into you slowly, one hand from around his neck falling back and against the car to steady yourself better for what it is that's soon to take place.

A second finger in, slowly prying you open for his cock, Hongjoong's mouth pulls away to trail down your neck, latching onto the skin just below your chin to suck a mark into it.

Just another doing of his that you'll have to cover up, like all of the ones before it. Perhaps if you were smarter, you'd tell him to avoid doing such things.

But frankly, that's not something you want, either.

“Wanna fuck you,” he groans into your skin, a whimper escaping you in response to the admission. Fingers pulling from you to work into his own jeans, you allow your head to fall back to take in the moment — the beautiful night sky, the light breeze, and the lingering scents of the nights earlier goings on. only a few seconds granted to you before you feel the familiar prodding of the tip of him pushing inside of you through the sound of his belt buckle jingling through the air.

“Kiss me,” you whisper out, Hongjoong wasting no time obliging the request as he brings his mouth up from your neck and to your lips, one hand gripping tightly into your thigh to keep it hoisted up his hip as he fucks you against the vehicle.

The angle certainly doing you favors, presenting the perfect ability for Hongjoong's cock to graze the perfect spot with every drive into you, free hand not used to keep yourself somewhat upright now buried into short, blonde hair — the man fucks you hard, but not particularly fast, every thrust seemingly deliberate in his desire to bring you to orgasm as quickly as possible.

Legs quaking around him as you cry out his name, clenching down around him as he fucks you through your orgasm, Hongjoong pauses kissing you long enough to pull from your lips enough to watch you intently as you cum around his dick — forehead pressed to your own as you moan and whimper through your release.

“Fuck me from behind.”

The demand spilling from your lips before you have a chance to think much of it, still reeling from your orgasm, no time lost in taking heed of it — pulling himself from you and turning you around to bend you over the cold metal of your boyfriends car before burying his cock inside of you again and settling into a much harder, quicker pace than before.

You feel him reach down for something briefly, without much thought to it, until you hear the sound of a lighter flickering, and the scent of freshly lit cigarette from behind you.

It's a little charming, in a hilariously degenerate way, you think.

“Rubbed off on you a little bit, huh?” he huffs out between thrusts, one hand settled on the small of your back while the other wraps around the dip in your waist. “Now who likes getting fucked in places they have no business getting fucked in?”

“Joong— feel so good, fuck—“ and it's hardly a response to the questions, although it sort of is with how exquisite the drag of his cock feels against your walls.

“Yeah, baby? Want me to make you cum again? Like me fucking you on your mans car?”

“Yes,” you manage to huff out, the air nearly fucked out of you with every hard push of himself against you.

Feeling the brief loss of one of his hands — presumably to finish off his cigarette and toss it to the side — he brings it back to gently snake up the length of your back, settling at the back of your neck and gripping fingers into the sides to continue his rhythm.

“Rub yourself for me,” Hongjoong whispers, voice faltering every so slightly at the creeping promise of his own release, and you waste no time bringing your dominant hand down and between your legs — first feeling for the way his cock stretches your pussy open with every push inside of you, enough in and of itself to get you that much closer to where you want to get to before circling fingers against your clit to bring yourself over the edge around him — groaning immediately at the feeling of you tightening around him with the additional stimulation, he fucks you that much harder.

Biting hard into your lip in an attempt to stifle your cries, Hongjoong notices, and much to his disapproval.

“No one can hear you, you can scream for me,” he groans, clearly and quickly reaching his own orgasmic inevitability. “Lemmie hear you, tell me how good it feels.”

The instruction does enough of the work, his desire to hear you cry out for him and how good he makes you feel as you cum hard — at the same time, Hongjoong's hips stuttering with a breathy moan of your name as he shoves his cock as deep into you as he can to cum — the throb of his release prolonging your own as you sound nearly pained by the feeling of a long, drawn out, second orgasm of the night.

An airy 'fuck' dropping from him as he attempts to steady himself, catch his breath after his release, Hongjoong only bends forward to lean himself against your back — gentle kisses peppered across your shoulder and back before he settles the side of his head down against you for a moment of reprieve.

As a gust of fresh, night air flushes by and across hot skin, when the words ring out through bitten, red, lips, you think for a split second that you're not sure which one of you they truly come from — long since having been hanging in the forefront of your mind, as it was.

'I miss you. Us.'

Over the next following weeks, you can't help but notice the acute way in which messages back from Hongjoong dissipate. You figure, at least to some degree, that the relationship between Spirals and Emperors having reached such a boiling point after the last race, that perhaps it's expected — that even in spite of your good deed in martyring yourself for Seonghwa's car, the fact that it ever even reached that point be reason enough to want to distance himself from you.

That's what you tell yourself, at least, ignoring the elephant in the room.

And as the days pass, you find your relationship with Yunho having also deteriorated in such a way that maybe you hadn't anticipated. Yes, you expected him to be mad about the dealing with Seonghwa, and yes, that had been something that you had factored in prior to making the decision — in thinking that with a few days to cool off, things might just go back to normal.

Not that normal was ever even that great, either.

So two weeks later, on a rainy Thursday night just two hours before the scheduled meet up — no races and no thrills given the weather — when Yunho texts you that he's coming over to talk, you're unsure of what to expect. Perhaps the dissolution of your relationship, the thought causing an expected twisting to the contents of your stomach.

Why, you're not sure. Would breaking up even really be that bad?

But suppose the ending of a relationship where there once had been love will always be hard.

Watching Yunho drag himself through the doorway of your bedroom, jacket almost certainly left at the front door of your home and bag slumping down to the floor with a thud, you watch as he avoids eye contact with you for the first few seconds of his arrival — fingers pushing through damp, rained upon hair to remove what's stuck to the skin of his forehead, he sighs heavily as he finally makes eye contact with you — but doesn't press himself further inside of the bedroom, either.

Awkwardness so tangible, it's the first time that you think you've ever seen him in such a bizarre state — not so astoundingly full of ego and grandeur but rather, somewhat impish as a result of whatever it is that he came here tonight to say.

“We should talk.”

Voice deep but almost cracking through the abruptness of the words, it takes you quite a bit back as once again his eyes dart from you — knots tightening in your abdomen at the sight of your boyfriend just before you.

You can't find it in you to respond to him, waiting for the pin to drop, instead.

“You can't spend time with Spirals anymore.”

Wait, what?

You don't say it, not verbally at least, and you suppose you twist of your features in near disgust says everything that it needs to as Yunho rolls his eyes at the quiet display of you before him.

“Don't really want you hanging out with that bitch Chaerin, either, but i'm willing to compromise.”

“'Willing'?” you mirror back, shock laden in your tone. “You're telling me who I can and can't hang out with, now? I've known them all way longer than i've known you.”

“Yeah and I don't think that's doing you any favors,” he bites back, finally stepping towards you in a much stronger stride than the way he had entered. “The thing with Seonghwa was humiliating, you're my girlfriend, why the fuck are you going to bat for him? He lost.”

Scoffing, you reel at the fact that the argument is taking place at all with how asinine it is to you.

“This is stupid, you can't tell me who I can spend time with.”

“I can and I will.”

Standing up from the edge of your bed and pushing past him, you swiftly grab your phone and keys from your nightstand on the way out before turning back to him for the final blow.

You pause, having to think twice before delivering it.

“You feel big, Yunho?” You start, contempt heavy in your voice towards him with eyes equally narrow and cutting. “You feel brave only racing people who aren't on your level? Is that why—“

Pausing again, you watch the mans eyes widen at the beginning of the implication, stepping towards you again. “Say it! Say what you were going to say!”

“—that why you never challenged Hongjoong?”

You turn again to leave, but not before long fingers wrap around your arm to stop you. Not especially aggressive or violent but enough to have your heart beating through your chest at the implications — a man putting his hands on you during a heated argument — You still anyways, just in case.

You don't think Yunho would hit you, but frankly, you're not entirely sure, either.

The two of you locking eyes, rage and disdain painting each one of your faces as you stare each other down, Yunho lets go of you almost just as quickly as he had grasped a hold.

And probably regretting it just as much, too.

“See yourself out,” you say just before turning to leave again, and when Yunho asks you where you're going, the only details you grace him with are “out.”

“He put his fucking hands on you?”

The voice rings out from Chaerin — shrill and shrieky through the echoing walls of the mechanic shop, previously rolled up beneath her forest green RX-8 — but quickly wheeling herself out from under it at the sound of the words leaving your mouth.

Hongjoong only a few more feet away; leaned back in a tattered rolling chair that's certainly seen better days and boots kicked up onto a desk that's now used for very little besides holding water bottles and the occasional wrench — as he attempts to dig out oil from underneath a fingernail with a switchblade he adds commentary of his own. “The guy's a piece of shit, got half a mind to slash his fucking tires right in front of his face tonight.”

“Don't bother,” you sigh. “He didn't hurt me, he wasn't violent, but yeah—“

“A man putting his hands on you in any way during an argument is violent,” Chaerin states clearly as she walks towards you to pull you into a hug. “I'm sorry, my love.”

“I'm okay, seriously.”

“You've got to leave him,” the blonde woman adds after your affirmation of being alright with the circumstances. “I mean, this can't keep going on. It was already bad but things are just getting worse, and worse at this point. The cheating, the controlling behavior, now getting physical with you...”

You can't help but glance to your far right towards Hongjoong in an attempt to assess the way that he's intaking the information, but the man appears to be outwardly unbothered — still picking apart the underside of his fingernail with little more to say on the situation.

“We can find you a nice guy,” your best friend says with a smile and a certain cheekiness to her.

“Like Hongjoong.”

First it's a crashing sound, followed by a pointed 'fuck' and turning to follow where the sounds had come from, the sight before you being your ex planted back to the floor, wheels of his chair having given out from beneath him — and a nasty gash in the tip of his finger from the knife once toyed with.

“Are you okay?” you ask, relatively unbothered by the sight before you as Chaerin jogs off to retrieve the first aid kid.

“What's wrong with your friend?”

“How much time do you have?” you chuckle, implication of 'a lot' heavy in the answer. A playful huff from the man following as the blonde woman arrives back with a large enough bandage for the wound and something to disinfect it.

“Someone's jittery.” She says with a knowing grin, which Hongjoong pointedly avoids looking at.

“I drink a lot of coffee.”

“Why did you guys break up, anyway?”

As silence befalls the mechanic shop, you slowly glance towards the woman next to you, flashing a look that says a thousand words in and of itself, but most importantly being: what are you doing right now?

Chaerin mouths “what?” back to you, as if Hongjoong isn't lying just in front of the both of you and fully capable of seeing the display before him, he finally rolls his eyes with a huff — more than exhausted of the situation already.

“Her parents hated me, okay?” he begins, wincing as the tight bandage wraps around his open wound. “Guess I look a little too much like a guy who does illegal street racing for fun and has a DUI.”

Silence again, and you think for a moment that perhaps Hongjoong's admission a bit too raw and unfiltered for what Chaerin had anticipated — a teasing that had begun rather lighthearted, now seemingly serving as a tool for the mans emotional release. It's not much, but for someone who doesn't talk about his feelings all that much, you know how much it really is, and from the way the words sound on the edge of broken by the end of the sentence, most definitely coming from a place of genuine hurt.

“Well,” she begins, and you figure that she's doing it out of a feeling of obligation — the need to respond to something so open and honest, to not leave him hanging. “Parents can be wrong—“

Her eyes now switching to flash to you as she says it.

“—but anyways, it's a good thing there's no races tonight because that's probably gonna hurt like a bitch for a couple of days. I'd recommend staying off of it and not—“

“We never stopped sleeping together.”

It's Hongjoong that you look at first — the man sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth and eyes widening at the words as he slowly turns to look at you with a face that asks 'right, what's all this, then?' and after, it's Chaerin that you glance towards — hers not all that different from Hongjoong's, although you think that if you look hard enough, you can see a sense of having already suspected as much through her features.

If she had thought as much, she keeps it to herself, opting instead to clear her throat and yank Hongjoong back up to his feet with her as the three of you stand up from the concrete floor.

“Never stopped as in...?” She inquires, curious of the exact timeline in relation to Yunho.

“Think we stopped seeing each other for like—“ you pause to think as you glance towards your ex next to you, still relatively shell-shocked by the whole ordeal. You shrug and sigh simultaneously. “A week, after we broke up?”

“So, you've always...since Yunho...”

Lips pulled into a thin line as you're forced to admit such, you nod gently — far from proud of your misdoings, but acknowledging them all the same.

“Wow,” your friend chimes out, eyes wide still with the gathering of new information. Hands pressed to her hips as another layer of quiet wafts over the three of you — Hongjoong not dare speaking out of turn in events such as this — neither of you have to, not with Chaerin around.

“Thank god! It's what he fucking deserves. Fuck that guy.”

Laughing nervously, you understand where she's coming from, of course: as your best friend, and a friend of Hongjoong's much more so now than earlier, to know that Yunho has been repeatedly done wrong in such a way feels a bit like a breath of fresh air — an understanding that through everything that he's put everyone else through, there is still some semblance of justice — somewhere, somehow.

You don't necessarily agree with the feeling, guilt and disgusting swirling around deep in your chest every time you're forced to acknowledge the fact, but perhaps it's admitting to it out loud that will give you the strength to do something with it.

And everything else aside, you've wondered how much of Hongjoong's truth laid bare for you that night on top of the mountain with his confession to you.

The least that you can ask of Yunho — and everyone else involved, for that matter, is for one night where nothing goes wrong.

You're thankful that even in never verbally requesting of it, it seems as though the stars aligned themselves all the same — everyone on their best behavior, and a casual car meet night starting and ending without an argument, or otherwise nasty words exchanged.

The looks are unavoidable — Spirals, Chaerin and the like in Yunho's direction — something he most definitely picks up on yet chooses not to comment. Surprising, for him. A man that always has something to say, including and almost especially in circumstances where it's him that's in the wrong.

But tonight? Nothing.

You heed your boyfriends request: not really with intention of actually doing so, that is, allowing him to control who it is that you can and cannot have contact with, but rather to keep the evening smooth and mellow.

It was a conversation that would see reopening.

“Hey,” you whisper, hand reaching over the center console of his vehicle to wrap delicate fingers around his forearm. “We should talk.”

Putting the car into drive and waving off his friends just before pulling off, you study his face as he remains silent from just next to you — jaw tight and lips pressed thin as he stares ahead — it's as if he's driving, sitting entirely still in the emptying parking garage used as tonight’s meeting place.

Sighing, Yunho closes his eyes for a moment as if to collect himself. You brace for impact.

“I'm sorry.”

And you figure that surprising would be an understatement, eyebrows pushing together as you take in the words just as they left his mouth. Foot pressing to the pedal now as the car slowly drives the both of you off, the man sighs again. “I shouldn't put my hands on you. Not ever. I'm sorry.”

You sort of knew that it was well beyond the scope of what even he finds to be acceptable-assholery, not that it excuses the behavior, but an apology for the goings on feels the least surprising of all of the other potential things the man could have been issuing it for.

Controlling behavior is okay, but he draws the line at getting physical. Guess it's something.

Not enough, though.

“Yeah,” you quietly reply back, not wanting to absolve him of it, nor do you really wish to accept his apology for it. Forgiveness for some things feeling well beyond your scope — suppose it would file under unforgivable. Something that Yunho would have to make peace with on his own time.

“That why you were on your best behavior tonight?” You ask, tone playful but sort of meaning it, also.

Your boyfriend chuckles at the words as the car slows to a halt for a red light just ahead.

“Yeah, kind of,” he says quickly, not needing time to mull it over at all. “I feel bad, it's fucked up—“

Pausing, Yunho leans forward to look out and through his windshield towards something a bit up ahead before sitting back again and glancing to his side at you. “—Mind if I kidnap you for a bit?” he asks with a gentle smile.

Suppose Jeong Yunho serves as your own blind spot.

Car parked in a nearby, open, parking lot — only a handful of street lights illuminating the area, but enough so that it doesn't feel secluded — the man next to you sits back against his custom seat more comfortably, head resting back as well just before turning to face you and stretching his arm out now against the center of the vehicle towards you in and effort to request for your hand in his.

You oblige.

Inhaling heavily — you await the words that seem to linger just on his tongue, the vision of a man still thinking through every thought before allowing them to exit through his mouth — you wonder, if perhaps it's the first time of him having done so. Yunho, so quick with words and thoughtless actions and selfishness, now contemplating everything in a whole new way, a way that you think, perhaps, you've never seen from him before.

“You know I just want what's best for you, right?”

Yuck.

Words carrying into your ears and twisting deep inside your stomach as if doused with poison themselves, it's not at all what you had been hoping to hear: it's an explanation for him being the way he is — it's an implication that you should need him to help you make decisions, to act right, to be good for him, because certainly you're incapable of doing it yourself.

For whatever reason, the memories of when the two of you first started dating come flooding back to you. Holding hands while shopping and movie nights late at your place with your parents home (previously uncharted waters, but your mother liked him so much she allowed it for him), a hand on your thigh when he took you out for a ride in his car, but nothing too dangerous — the assumption that he wouldn't be able to live with himself should anything happen to you while with him.

When perhaps he was the danger itself all along.

But it makes it hard nonetheless. It's never easy when there is love there, memories there — a history. You cared for Yunho, in all of the ways that a girlfriend does, no matter how wronged or slighted or for how long — it's difficult sometimes, to do what's best for oneself when knowing it to be the severance of so many others.

“We should break up.”

But you have to, anyways. Above all else.

You choose to stare forward out of the windshield in front of you — a vivid recollection of the way Hongjoong had you not so long ago just there springing up and into the forefront of your mind as if some cruel reminder that you not be the saint you wish to paint yourself as — that you're not a victim in all of this, not completely.

With dark red hair in your peripheral vision, you see the man dip his head down.

Then delicately pull his hand from your own.

But Yunho opts out of a verbal response, instead using his newly freed hand to start the ignition of his car once again and toss it into reverse. Panic sets in, although, you're not entirely sure why.

“Yunho—“

“I heard you.”

A response curt and lacking any emotion beyond anger, you find it in yourself to finally look towards him fully — jaw clenched hard as you're so used to seeing on him, and eyes narrow with indignation.

Stilling the car again and jamming the shift into drive much rougher than he had been before, he begins pulling off and back onto the road — it's towards your home, that much you are thankful — but you don't imagine the ride there will remain this quiet, either.

“Why?” he asks suddenly, now driving a tad bit faster than before. It's nothing especially dangerous, but you note it all the same. Yunho doesn't give you time to answer, though, before adding onto the inquiry with another thought of his own. “Because I grabbed your arm?”

He sounds stressed, voice pitchier than usual given his typically smoother, deep tone — perhaps panicked at being faced with the dissolution of the relationship.

And just as you're about to answer him, he continues on again.

“Because of him?”

You know who he means without the dropping of the name.

“You can't tell me who I can and can't hang out with, Yunho—“

“You're choosing him over me? Over us? You already broke up with that fucking loser once, how many times do you have to do it before it sticks?”

“It's not about Hongjoong.”

Sort of a lie.

“Then it shouldn't matter that I don't want you hanging out with your stupid ass ex. You miss a guy with a fuckin' DUI? Are you stupid?”

Yunho's tone raising louder and louder, anger bubbling quickly in the confined space of the vehicle, you want nothing more than to be free from the clutches of being there with him.

Sure, you had anticipated the break up to not go over well, but perhaps it was heading into territory you weren't quite ready for.

It's then that the fuel light pops on on Yunho's dashboard — slamming his palm against the steering wheel in frustration at all of these circumstances culminating annoyingly at once, he cusses to himself under his breath before looking just up ahead and on the right for a gas station open.

But what really causes your heart to do a nose dive into your stomach, is the visual of Hongjoong's car pulled up to gas pump three.

“Well, would you look at that,” Yunho sing-songs sarcastically as he pulls in, a man with silver hair just exiting the shop with a bottle of water and keys in hand before briefly looking up just enough to notice the scene before him. “Perfect timing.”

And now you know that tonight is going to be a problem.

Pulling up to gas pump two, Hongjoong slows just to the side of his car before hopping into the drivers seat — as if having some sort of sixth sense of there being a problem — carefully eyeing the EVO as it stills to a halt on the other side of the median separating you.

When Yunho slams the shift into park, the only word exiting his mouth is “out.”

For once, you're thrilled to be taking his direction.

Hopping out of the car with quickness, you shoot Hongjoong a look that says 'there's a problem' that you know has him watching the situation even more intently as he eyes the taller of the two getting out of his vehicle. A loud slamming of his car door — much louder and rougher than he would ever handle his car under normal circumstances — you watch as your ex grits his teeth as Yunho steps towards the two of you and meets Hongjoong face to face with a grin.

Nodding his head towards you, Yunho speaks first. “Ya know this one just broke up with me.”

Hongjoong snorts through his nose at the words, never faltering in his eye contact with the man in front of him. “'Bout time.”

Brave, you think. If Yunho put hands on you then you know he's not above putting Hongjoong on his ass, either.

A slow blink concealing the roll of his eyes as he nods at the words, Yunho keeps his crooked grin plastered across his face. “Big talk for a guy going nowhere, with nothing — you think you're big 'cause you got the girl? Over my dead body.”

You don't know entirely what he means by that. Intention to pursue you in spite of it all? An unwillingness to let the relationship go? A cold chill firing through your blood at the implications of what it means, you warm slightly at the sound of the silver haired man just next to you laughing at the words as he digs into his pockets for his pack of cigarettes — unable to light it due to their current whereabouts.

Hongjoong's eyebrow quirking up at the words as he takes them in — it's a look that almost explicitly explains all of the ways in which he does not take the tallest of the two seriously, in any way. You find it almost comforting, that perhaps he knows something you don't, and thus, you have little to worry about — but with a man known for acting on impulse and making rather poor decisions, who can really tell.

“What're you gonna do?” he questions, cigarette lazily dangling between his lips. “Make her be in a relationship with you, stupid?”

Jaw tense, Yunho steps towards Hongjoong slowly — the movement spiking your anxiety, but cool as a cucumber, the man remains in place with his behind gently pressed against his car and arms folded across his chest.

“If I want something, then it's mine,” he whispers — tone oozing of smugness and superiority.

For the first time ever, you think that Yunho is letting the charade go in full — no more plausible deniability about him being ultimately good or right underneath it all. The real him. This is who he is.

Waving his hand in the warm, late night air, as if evidencing their surroundings to prove his point despite no one else being around. “Maybe you've noticed, with my little collection of your friends' useless tin cans.”

Knowing Spirals and Yunho's propensity to take from them, you know it's a sore spot for Hongjoong, so watching the way in which the leader only drops his chin down to his chest with a grin before cocking his head to the side and glancing back up at the tallest of the three of you — you're unsure of what to expect.

But Hongjoong being so cool about it is probably a bad sign, based on what you know.

“Funny,” he says finally, inhaling sharply before pulling his arms apart again to rifle through his keys for the one leading to his car.

“'Cause if that were true I wouldn't have been laying into her the whole time y'all were together.”

The result comes on quicker than you expect — a fast and strong right hook to Hongjoong's jaw sending him almost barreling across the side of his own vehicle at the contact — Yunho breathing heavily as he rubs at his sore and potentially broken set of knuckles. the man glancing at you and for a second, you worry if you may also meet the same consequence as your mouthy ex, but without a word, and red hair swaying in the wind, Yunho only turns to head back towards his car.

No longer in his sights, you rush over to Hongjoong, delicately touching the place of impact and checking for mobility as he opens and closes his mouth with a wince. “God, he hits like a pussy, too. Unbelievable.”

“Hongjoong.” You whine, because god forbid the man delivering the assault overhear the comment.

“Hey!” Hongjoong shouts, and if you had known him to wish to say more, you'd have done everything in your power to stop him, but with the words already out there, your eyes widen at him, a nonverbal plead to shut the fuck up.

“Race me next Saturday,” he yells, still awkward with his damaged jaw but confident and pointed all of the same. “Not someone in my crew, me. If I win, you leave her the fuck alone and you leave town. That's it.”

You can't see the man, only the sound of him having opened the car door to go off of in relation to his whereabouts, but you hear nothing from behind you for what feels like eons. Then...

“And if I win?”

Pausing to spit out blood and hopefully not a tooth accompanying it to the ground just between his black boots, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the words come out far too confidently than you'd like them to, especially because you know him to have every intention of keeping his word.

“Then I leave. You get the car, the girl, the team, everything.”

A heavy gust of wind barreling through as silence overtakes the situation, silently pleading with Hongjoong through looks to not agree to this, to not go through with it — looks that you know the man to be purposefully avoiding in his reluctance to make eye contact with you as he asserts the deal — you don't feel any better knowing that the man is willing to put everyone on the line for you, or for whatever this is.

It's reckless, and it's dangerous, and there's got to be another way.

“See you next Saturday.” Yunho says with a tone so matter of a fact, before thrusting himself into his car and taking off just as fast.

When Saturday rolls around, it leaves you wondering where the time went between then and now.

Riding passenger side in Hongjoong's RX-7, you mull over the the happenings of the week leading up to now: countless hours leading into days spent at the mechanics shop with him, Chaerin and the rest of the Spirals team — testing and preparing his car for the impending race with everything and then some riding on it, the anticipation bubbles in your gut in a way that you're unfamiliar with — a race with far too much behind it, more than necessary, and it leaves you wondering why it is that the man driving next to you is willing to give everything up for what effectively boils down to one thing: you.

But with almost no down time between the declaration and the race — Hongjoong spending many nights at the shop, curled up asleep on the cold, beat up, leather couch inside instead of opting to bother with the travel time home when he knows he'll only end up back there early in the morning anyways — it leaves no time for the conversation.

A silent acknowledgment between you, him, and everyone else on your side of the equation.

Trailing behind Chaerin's RX-8 and pulling into the all too familiar roadside lot of the uphill racing track that serves to be Hongjoong's favorite, you figure that the two of them must have hashed it out unbeknownst to you — or it was some sort of understanding between racers for this to be the place that it would happen. The track. Not the most difficult, nor the one offering top speeds (and for that, it could be raced downhill, anyways), but rather the one feeling just right for the sort of situation.

Yunho too proud to decline the invitation to beat Hongjoong on his home terf, his favorite track, the one known to be his best — and Hongjoong all too confident to feel that he could ever be beaten on it.

Setting the car into park, you dare not speak as Hongjoong takes in a deep breath through the silence — a rowdy crowd of racers and onlookers alike heard easily from all around you outside of the car — it feels almost claustrophobic, suffocating in some way, being surrounded by people and the impending happenings of the evening.

Hongjoong looks calm and collected, however.

One hand loosening from the steering wheel to card through short, silver hair before unceremoniously plopping it onto his thigh with a flat palm, he lies his head back against the rest of his seat, turning to look at you finally with a shockingly soft expression.

“Should probably have a talk, huh?”

You can't help the way the corners of your lips curl upwards at the implications of the words. Delicate and caring. You nod.

“You're really just gonna move if you lose a race?” You ask, tone pointed with resistance in the thought of it, but the man next of you pulls his eyes away, head turning back to look out and in front of him at the passersby.

“To be honest,” he starts, thinking through the words a bit more before carrying on. “If guys like that are going to set up shop around here then maybe my time here has run out anyways, maybe it's time to move on.”

“You sound far more willing than I ever expected. You love this town.”

Hearing the exhale through his nose as if amused by the prospect of it, Hongjoong reaches forward and across you into his dashboard, rifling through papers and an empty water bottle in search of something, finally pulling an envelope with no wording sprawled across it — only an emblem.

Placing it on your lap, he nods for you to open it, but not before point out and into the crowd.

“See that guy over there with the hat? Red jacket.”

Squinting, you attempt to follow his finger with your eyes, gazing out and through the crowding of people for whoever it is that the man next to you is wishing for you to locate, all the while digging out whatever it is from this envelope that you're meant to see.

Hongjoong carries on with the thought before you do. “Those red jackets are special, custom order jackets. No one has those. You can't get them.”

“Okay...” you hesitantly acknowledge, finally landing on the man in question. Arms crossed and seemingly alone, he's looking onward — at the track, at the surroundings, and finally, over to the both of you. Nodding in your direction, Hongjoong nods back at him.

“Ever heard of Project D?” He asks.

“Uh, rings a bell. Think I've heard Yunho or Chaerin talk about it, why?”

Hongjoong snorts at the drop of names before speaking again, as if unsurprised by the ones mentioned as having any sort of interest. “Read the letter.”

A questioning look splashing across your features, you do as advised, pulling from his attention and down towards the piece of paper in your hands. It takes you some time to go through it, and then, another moment from reading it over again — because you're quite sure that you must have read something wrong, must have gone through this with a bit of wishful thinking and a simple wanting so badly of things to go good, and right.

But with the second read through and confidence in your reading comprehension, your attention snaps back up and towards Hongjoong — a wide grin sported on his face.

“This...this is—“ you manage to stutter out, heart threatening to beat through your chest entirely as he turns to meet your eyes again.

“Indeed. Turns out someone thinks this guy can drive a car,” he sighs with a sort of nonchalance that has you so taken aback you aren't even sure what to say or think.

Project D. The upper echelon of street racing. Entirely closed off, and run on a strict 'don't call us, we'll call you' type of basis. It's professional, and the dream for just about anyone involved in the sport. a one way ticket out of here, that much is for certain.

So unfamiliar to the common driver that no one here even recognizes the shining red jacket only adorned by drivers on the team.

“His name is Takahashi Ryosuke,” Hongjoong begins again, lazily having a hand out towards the man referenced only a moment ago. “He's the leader of Project D, he came to see me drive. I'm already in, but it's sort of a formality, plus, he's gotta give me my jacket.”

You pause, thinking it through in your mind again and trying to take it all in.

“In front of Yunho?”

Hongjoong laughs, a full laugh at the question. “In front of Yunho.”

Head lying back once again on the headrest of his seat and rolling gently to grant him vision of you — you watch the way his eyes fan over your features, as if taking all of them in for the first time all over again — as if it were to be the first or last time that he would ever see them, and with the calling to action of the racers needing to line up, it pulls your attention up and away with the abruptness of it, but not his — still watching you intently as if trying to read every thought floating through your mind in that very moment.

You figure it's no surprise that you ended up here, with him, like this tonight — all of his plans, everything he does perfectly in line with something that he has in mind — some sort of grand scheme of sorts, and you can't help but wonder for how long it's revolved around you.

'Racers line up, 5 until green!'

Turning back to look at Hongjoong, small hand with painted black fingernails reaching out and towards your own, he grips tightly atop one of them and squeezes lightly just before pulling it from you and shifting his car into drive again.

“So,” he starts, waving towards Ryosuke again before carefully maneuvering his vehicle towards the starting line of the track for a race that means nothing and everything to the both of you simultaneously.

“Want to take a ride with me?”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ hope you enjoyed! please check out my navigation for more (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

#hongjoong smut #yunho smut #ateez smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n #yunho x reader #yunho x you #yunho x y/n #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x y/n

[kyuala]

treasure as friends with benefits

hyung line + yedam only as this has mature themes! sfw maknae line version here. requested by anon.

hyunsuk

so shy, will literally never initiate anything. blushes easily and just wants to make sure you're comfortable at all times

you wonder if hyunsuk even wants this bc it's been like two weeks and he still hasn't hit you up. but by all means please do take matters into your own hands, he will NOT complain

probably gets anxious doing anything anywhere other than his bedroom the first few times you fuck, but you will reallyyyyyy see how fun and chill sex w hyunsuk can be once he lets go and relaxes

i feel like hyunsuk catching feelings could be a 50/50 chance, he does prefer to have sex with someone he's romantically involved with but it's not always a rule

if he does fall in love he will freak out tho lmao he won't know how to act around you

just wants to cuff you asap tbh

jihoon

LIKES TO FRONT 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

talks real big abt being a dom.... would probably let you dom him. thinks he's immune to catching feelings... will fall for you and then deny it like that's gonna make it go away. says he could probably handle like 3-4 fwbs at the same time.... cant stop thinking about you and turns people down bc of it

keeps buying you things he knows you like but nothing beats the stuff he buys you bc he's noticed they are missing in your house

on God wouldn't mind getting loud and letting certain people know ur business

secretly just wants you to do something - anything - in public that would show people you've got something going on with him and make them back off

compliment him and/or run your hands up and down his biceps and you will give him an ego boost that lasts like 3 whole weeks

yoshi

🚨‼️🚨 romantic feelings alert 🚨‼️🚨

i feel like yoshi would b very chill about the whole thing from the beginning. UNTIL he is not

feel like seeing someone else like that (and being seen by someone else like that) would represent a level of vulnerability to yoshi that would only make him look at you differently (all of you) and that would inevitably trigger some romantic feelings for him, no matter how light or intense

you will notice how much more easily he gets flustered around you, how he invites you to do stuff (out in public in the broad daylight!) with him, how he looks at you and kisses you all different and soft now

DEFINITELY falls into the cliche of asking you to stay for cuddles just a little while longer and feeling like he's on top of the world after waking up with you still in his arms.

probably doesn't really care what happens the first few times as long as you're having fun, but will not be opposed to you introducing some kinks or d/s elements (ahem, he lives to serve. wbk)

junkyu:

bro he would be in love w you before y'all even start oh my God. thoughts of you and what you do to him cloud his mind 24/7 like literally junkyu head empty thoughts y/n

this arrangement probably comes about during some late night talk in his studio when he just lets it slip before he can stop himself. when you agree he just stares at you like 😦 for like 25 minutes

not the best at initiating stuff (if you even count him staring at you from the corner of his eye and hoping you get the message as "initiating stuff")

gets these random bursts of confidence and he will be more active and make you feel good and ur like "boy where the FUCK has this been this whole time" and he's just like :3

not to get mushy all of a sudden but junkyu is literally moved by improvement and growth in his life so if you think things are good now.......... bro be prepared bc he learns FAST what makes you go insane and he will do it every. single. time.

mashiho

thinks he's good at this and is genuinely good at this (sorry to jihoon but this mans built different)

a full adaptable switch, he will figure out what you like and he will suddenly be it, simple as that (and he's good at it, too)

absolutely lives for late night rendezvous (he likes the vibe) but also doesn't really care about the time if he wants to smash he'll smash lol he just won't do it where he works and probably not even in the dorms either

i don't think he'd be afraid to hit u up but i also don't think he would do it that often. does it mostly when he needs to blow off some steam or when he's bored lmao

THE most responsible fwb, he will constantly ask you to keep him updated about how you're feeling and will keep communication clear with you too. will end things if you catch feelings and he doesn't bc he just cares about you and your well-being :(

jaehyuk

probably suggests it himself but will also be v pleasantly surprised if you do it first. doesn't even have to be someone he trusts that much, hell y'all ain't even gotta be friends lmao

seems like he'd try to be picky about when and where but truth is he can't resist you and is easily convinced lol he'd end up fucking you after some thigh touching and dirty whispering on your part

i don't think he would be that ashamed to hit you up frequently either. so be prepared for some thirst traps and some dirty texting 🤞🏼

wants EVERYBODYYYY to know ur business, you'd have to be constantly reminding him that being secretive is part of the deal lmao

i honestly do not think he'd catch feelings easily at all, but he'd be the absolute sweetest and be super considerate to you if you did. if he did catch feelings too he'd just want y'all to get into a relationship as soon as possible, like right then and there

asahi

i dont think he would lmaoooooo

but if by some miracle he did get a fwb, it would have to be someone he trusts a LOT. like top 10 most trusted people in his life type of deal.

probably cares more about the "friend" part than the "benefits" part lol prefers to just hang out and talk first rather than showing up and tearing each others clothes off or something

on the rare occasions y'all do actually do something i feel like he'd be all for it, almost never denying you. he doesn't want anything to feel too intense or stiff so sex with him will be very laid-back, chill, fun... it's literally just two best friends hanging out but he also happens to be making you cum bc he's naturally talented at it

wildcard. i don't think he would catch feelings but also with asahi there's always the off chance of something happening. if he does fall in love i feel like he would try to tell you as soon and as naturally as possible, just very calmly mentioning it the next time you two hang out

yedam

cocky 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

loves it when you hit him up and gets such an ego boost from it, will definitely mock you for needing him so much and ask you if you're that desperate for him (say yes i promise you won't regret it)

would probably get a rush out of fucking in places y'all shouldn't (his studio, the practice room, the dorms when someone else is home, you know the drill) and honestly would want to do it a lot too lol

ON THE TOPIC OF STUDIO SEX ....... he will definitely be a sucker for late night sex in the studio, with some mood lighting and stuff. would probably write a fun summer song that is actually about sex and say you're his muse or some cheesy shit like that lol

if he does catch feelings first he will be a mix of yoshi and hyunsuk. freaks out a lil bit first but then does his best to (subtly) show you how he'd treat you if you give him a chance at a serious relationship

main masterlist | treasure masterlist

#treasure scenarios #treasure smut #treasure headcanons #treasure imagines #treasure x reader #treasure fanfic #treasure blurbs #treasure drabbles #hyunsuk #jihoon #yoshi #junkyu #mashiho #jaehyuk #asahi #yedam #mari.doc

[shibaraki]

DESERVE IT ┊ TODOROKI TOUYA

tags: GN reader, NSFT, established relationship, sub leaning touya (called ‘good boy’ and ‘baby’), dom leaning reader, edging, praise kink, oral sex (m receiving), handjob, touya is begrudgingly DESPERATE and IN LOVE WITH YOU

wc: 1.5k

Admittedly, you loved every version of Touya — and there were are many, despite his attempts to veil them.

You love him spitfire and vengeful, brittle at the wick. Falling apart at the seams, skin stretched with the pressure of his wicked grin. Warm, gaze brotherly as he laughs at Toga agitate Tomura. Cold, an empty hearth watching the stars pierce twilight from the docks.

And you love him desperate. Conflicted, body unsure whether it should coil into itself or splinter outward. Bucking into your touch, a sob caught in his throat. Touya does not care for manners, he sneers in the face of good etiquette. But with the head of his cock heavy on the roof of your tongue, twitching as you steady him cruelly at the edge, he can’t help but say please.

“Fuck—!”

One hand remains tucked behind his knee to keep him open, thumb shaping firm circles into the skin. You know it’s numb, the nerves long dulled, and yet it matters that you reassure him. It matters that he’s trusting you with this — something as simple as pleasure. Satisfaction. Touya, a man constantly tortured by things out of his own reach, allowing you to keep him in this moment of suspension.

The other is between his thighs, beneath your chin. Gently, ducking to swallow him whole, you squeeze his balls just how he likes. Firm, but careful. He likes it when it hurts a little, but hurting Touya isn’t a difficult task. Even the overhead stretch of his arms in the mornings causes him some discomfort.

So you sought to mix it with gratification. To make your nights with him respite, not punishment. His fingers find purchase at your scalp and the sharp smell of ash, flesh and blood permeates the air, but he doesn’t push.

“Please, please, please,” he’s sunken into the couch cushions, clothes discarded haphazardly across the living room floor. He’s gorgeous like this, chasing your mouth with his hips as you move back. The lights are off — always at his request — but the moon pierces through your cheap, secondhand drapes, and casts a halo over his body that you can’t look away from.

“Fuck, why’d you— don’t stop,” his voice is thin, a fragile rasp that strums at the ache in your centre. “I’ve been…, I’ll be—!”

“Good,” you murmur, nosing along the underside of his cock. Everywhere else is cold. It feels as if all the fire threaded into his marrow has gathered here, thick and pulsing against your cheek. “You’ve been so good for me, baby”.

The coffee table scratches across wood. His leg kicks out behind you as the pad of your forefinger curls up, brushing over his perineum. “Shut up. Shut up, get on with— fuck!”

Peering up at Touya beneath the shadows of your lashes, you see him blissful. You grit through the urge to kiss him for now. His brows are drawn taut, the scarcely left pale skin has flushed a pretty shade of pink, faint wisps of smoke leaking from behind amateur sutures. His jaw is slack, parted and panting for breath, chest rising and falling with each pass.

Instead, you kiss his cock, lips tightly pursed and pushing until they spread around the head, a slight saltiness on your palate. There, you physically feel the rigidity seep from his body. Touya could make empty demands as much as he liked if only it meant he felt safer with one hand on the wheel, but you knew what he wanted. What he needed.

To be coaxed into a warm interlude. Kept afloat in this headspace until he tired and tipped limblessly over the edge. And you’d kept him there for over an hour now, lazily mouthing at his cock, damp with spit saturating the couch covers.

You inhale steadily before taking his length down your throat, nose tucked against the soft hair at his navel. A soft, pitched whine of relief. Through the sting, you watch as his abdomen clenches.

Then you’re pulling away, dragging your tongue as you go. “Fuck… you,” he rasps, on the edge of tears. Another precipice he’d never reach the bottom of. You wished you could see him cry with relief. Truly cry. Brought to the brink over and over, handed the release he so deserved. What a poignant picture it would make.

But you knew he wouldn’t cum yet. He couldn’t. You were still too far away, and he still had not said the right words. “Doing so well for me,” you smile, smoothing an affectionate hand over his hip. Your cheeks ache with it. “Still waiting for my permission. Such a good boy, aren’t you?”

His spine bows gorgeously, the brief glimpse of a snarl twisting into his features as he tips his head back. Visibly fighting himself. A groan reverberates throughout the room, fingers leaving your crown to tear into the cushion beneath him, the fabric blackening under the growing heat. “Yeah. Yeah I— I wanna—“

You readjust, forging a path of light kisses along the sutures piercing his upper thigh. “Wanna cum, baby?”

The dim moonlight reflects in his eyes. Azure and bright like the fire he wields. Moments like this give you relief too — relief in seeing him alight with something other than anguish.

You implore lovingly, “Do you deserve it?”

His expression flickers. Confliction. Almost there. Fingers curling around his cock, you keep your grip soft as you fuck him with your fist, traversing the length of his torso. Knees now settling either side of his hips, arm moving steadfast between your bodies, he leans into your magnetism in a silent plea with lips parted in anticipation.

His whimpers are coming in short, hot puffs of air against your mouth, scrambling to tether himself, clutching at your waist as you rub teasingly at his frenulum. When he doesn’t answer, you press further, “Touya?”

“I…” the words are lost as his cock throbs, jaw loosening as his lower body climbs. You let go, tightly cinching your thumb and forefinger around the base, cutting off the impending orgasm.

“You?”

There are small, drying beads of blood dotted along his under eyes. You tilt to kiss his cheek, mindful of the protruding rings. “Still with me, baby? Do you need to stop?”

“No,” he turns into you, dazed in his pursuit of your mouth. You feign meeting his lips, and he twitches in your hand, “Don’t stop. Feels so fucking good”.

“Yeah?” a soft, wet sound echoes sharp in your ears when you slowly stroke over his cock, just the once. “And why shouldn’t I stop?”

He tilts his chin defiantly, fighting to keep his eyes open as he holds your gaze. Tongue peaking out to slide across his bottom lip, he’s close enough that you feel it graze your own.

“Because I deserve it”.

Grip tightening, satisfaction humming in your chest, you fall forward and take him. He moans into your mouth, the wanton sound a spool of thread pulled undone. You had learnt long ago that Touya cannot cum if you don’t kiss him first.

A shudder rolls throughout his body, followed by a sudden spike of heat. He’s loud, and that’s how you know he trusts you. Twitching, spilling over your fist in abrupt bursts; all the while your quiet praises are washing over him, into him, reassurances there and waiting the moment he returns to himself.

“Just like that. Come back to me when you’re ready,”— you’re still kissing him, short and chaste enough to speak between breaths —“did so beautifully for me, Touya”.

The seconds stretch into minutes, tucked away in a pocket of space that only the two of you exist in. With a lazy hum, Touya’s fervor gradually returns to him, and as he teases between your lips there’s a copper tang left on your tongue.

“There you are,” you kiss him once more, this time with a sense of finality that he visibly begrudges. “Fuck. That was so hot”.

“Do you ever stop talking?”

There’s cum drying along the peaks of your knuckles and he’s soft in your grip. Your cheeks lift, eyes squinted as you grin. “I love you”.

Another flicker of emotion. He turns away from the light, finding refuge in the shadows with a weak exhale. From here on out, you must tread assuredly. Open the valve that filtered your thoughts, and allow them to pass sincerely through your mouth, in a way that felt natural but not purposeful. Touya needed to feel like you were praising him because you wanted to, and not because he needed you to. Yet another precipice.

So you dip to kiss the column of his throat. “Love when you let me see you like this,” you murmur, nuzzling the rough underside of his jaw. “Thank you, baby”.

“You’re disgusting,” he rasps, words contradicted by the wrapping of both arms around your back to hold you against his chest. “You did this to me. Now clean me up”.

Happily trapped in the embrace, you can only nod. “Anything you want, Touya”.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #touya x reader