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wineauntie · 22 days

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"Always You" is masterful, it unlocked something in my brain and my heart. May I please request some fluff with Jack? I will leave the specifics up to you, but can it please be a dynamic where she is more like the moon (quiet, out of the spotlight)?

THESE QUIET MOMENTS — Jack Hughes x reader

summary: Jack Hughes thinks you’re like the moon, yet when you find yourself lost in the dark, you find him to be your shining light.

note: I adore this request so much, that it is 3am and I wrote this in under thirty minutes 🙏

warnings: use of y/n, fem!reader, angsty thoughts soothed with fluff, Jack Hughes in love, nicknames like pretty girl, reader is an introvert.

word count: 1.6K

please excuse any grammatical errors, it is once again 3am and I’m too tired to edit!

When people thought of Jack Hughes, hockey was obviously the first thing to come to mind. That along with the thought that he was the life of any party, that he was outgoing, vibrant and a lover of all things fun. He was under the spotlight and loved it there too.

What people often failed to mention about Jack Hughes was that he was also a lover of quiet moments, moments where the world faded into silence leaving him and you in your own little bubble of serenity.

You and Jack had been dating for almost a year and a half. When you'd begun to date, those around you questioned the dynamic because whilst Jack was outrageously out there in the way he acted, and you were the exact opposite.

You were introverted to say the least, preferring a night in instead of clubbing and enjoying your solace over any form of chaos. You were more shy compared to others, finding it hard to put yourself out there, but Jack had stumbled into your life, destined to help you creep out of your shell.

He taught you to enjoy moments of chaos and find the peace in it all (despite how contradictory that sounded) and in turn you taught him that the quiet moments were not boring but instead a necessity for sanity.

Jack adored you. He worshipped you in a way someone might worship a higher being. He was attentive and caring, always going above and beyond for you no matter the time needed or cost.

To him, you were an essential part of life.

The moon, perhaps?

Quite like the moon, your warm glow soothed every tendril of hatred inside of his body. Your effervescent and mesmerising way of orbiting his world was done in a way so natural, that he couldn’t comprehend how fitting it all was.

Soft, welcoming and hopeful.

Yes, you were the moon.

Your smile's shine acting like a light in the dark depths of the night, never fading from the moment the sun set to the moment the sun entered the picture once more.

Jack could live with the assurance that even on the brightest of days and fullest of moments, you would be there soon, blessing him with even more light to chase the dark away.

And when the night fell and engulfed the world and Jack into an endless darkness, he knew you would appear like the moon and act like a guiding light.

"Y/n? I'm home!"

Your head jerked up from your book that lay half-read on your lap as the sound of the door to the apartment resounded. You heard shuffling from the hallway as the two boys filtered into the living room, watching them appear, you stood to your feet, moving your blanket and book aside.

"Hey," you smiled, as Jack's eyes met yours, his softening instantaneously as he shifted one of his hands and wrapped it around you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "Well done on the game." Your eyes flitted to Luke, who ran a hand through his curls.

"Thanks, pretty girl," Jack grinned, his grip still tight around you, as he looked down at your face-which was slowly

"Thanks, y/n," Luke chimed, before disappearing into his bedroom. You weren't offended by his lack of conversation, knowing damn well when Luke got home from a game he was wrecked and needed a nap.

"So..." Jack drawled, drawing your attention back to him. "What did you do for the evening?"

You curled your arms around his neck, as you tilted your head in thought. "Well, I watched the game, and I read," you spoke slowly, "I really didn't do much, honestly."

"You read?" Jack hummed teasingly, "What a surprise!" As you rolled your eyes, Jack lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively whilst you laughed.

Jack held you close before he plopped down on the couch, pulling you into his lap as he did so. You, now straddling him, allowed your fingers to lightly brush over his cheekbones. Jack watched you with so much care, your heart melted.

"I missed you," Jack sighed, his eyes on yours as your fingers slowly traipsed up into his hair. "Don't like leaving you here by yourself."

You ducked your head, feeling rather embarrassed. You knew that despite not voicing it, a part Jack wanted you to attend his games. You attended as many of them as possible, but the crowds mixed with everyone suddenly knowing who you were, sent your heart palpitating towards the edge of panic.

Jack understood this and never pushed for you to go. He cared more about your safety and mental health, feeling far better that you were tucked up safely at home, wearing his clothes as you watched the game on the television.

But there were times where your hidden guilt hit you like a backwards moving truck, the thoughts of disappointing him ramming through you to the point where you're entire brain couldn't focus on anything else.

"Uh uh," Jack tutted, his hand moving from around your waist, to gently hold your cheek, lifting your head from its lowered position. "What's wrong, pretty girl, where are your thoughts at?"

You bit your lip and nuzzled into his touch, your eyes closing as you relished the warmth of his touch. Jack allowed you to sink him, giving you all the time in the world to answer.

You took a small breath in before you began to speak, becoming killed by Jack's thumb stroking your jaw line.

"Does a little part of you hate me for not being more "out there"?" You asked, your voice an octave above a whisper. You felt embarrassed to ask but the wiggling thought couldn't be settled until you'd gotten an answer.

Jack tensed beneath you, his thumb halting its soothing trail as you kept your eyes closed tight.

"Never mind," you quickly continued, unlatching your arms from him and pushing yourself off of his lap. "It was a silly question, don't–"

Jack grabbed your wrist and dragged you back down onto his lap, your legs now strewn over him as he held you. His eyes had crackled with the faintest embers of frustration as you curled up into him but his sadness washed over the fire, dowsing it entirely.

"It was a silly question," Jack agreed, his arms pulling you impossibly closer to his chest. "How could you ever think I hate you?" His voice cracked at the end of his sentence, the hurt seeping through his words.

"I don't know..I just," you huffed, pressing your face into his collarbone, trying to hide from his eyes. "You are the epitome of outgoing, Jack, I feel like I'm holding you back from, I don't know, going out and living."

Jack felt his heart shatter at your small voice, his face scrunched up in upset.

"Being here, with you, is living," Jack spoke clearly, "the moments I spend with you are my favourites and push me to live. Whether it be the moments where we laugh or cry or even the silent and quiet moments, I love them all." He paused, as you raised your face.

"I sometimes think I was made to love you, that before I was just floating around aimlessly. And you? You pulled me back and everything just feels right." Jack continued. Each word he spoke was deliberate as he kept his gaze locked on yours. "I don't care that you aren't "out there", because in all honesty, I'd rather you be happy and safe, than miserable and out of your comfort zone."

"But...what about games?" Your voice trembled, "I don't go to them a lot and I know a bunch of your teammates have people there to watch."

"Pretty girl, you are always with me at games," Jack reminded you, pulling out his thin and silver chain, with a small, rectangular locket attached. The sight caused a small smile to spread across your face. You knew that if you were to open the concealed locket, you'd find his favourite picture of you inside of it.

It was the cheesiest thing you'd ever seen, but Jack wore it proudly, as a king would wear his crown.

"You are with me at every moment and yeah, maybe not physically, but I know that as soon as I walk in the door, you'll be waiting for me, wearing my clothes and sleeping in my bed." Jack's voice was lower now, "and to be honest, I prefer our quiet moments. I prefer staying in with you as you read a book and I watch a match."

"You mean it?" Your eyes shone with so much affection that Jack couldn't resist the urge to kiss you as he bent and pressed a long kiss to your pouted lips.

"Every single word of it," Jack confirmed against your lips as you parted. "I love you...I love everything about you. Don't allow your thoughts to twist and let you think otherwise."

You nodded as Jack pressed kisses all up your face before he grabbed your book from where you'd placed it down and the remote from beside the couch.

"Now, we're going to watch a match and read, because I'm not allowing our quiet moment to go uncompleted,"

You plucked the book from his hands with a nod and rush of warmth flowing through your heart, as he began to flick through channels to find a game.

The two of you settled into the couch for the evening, completely intertwined as the night wore on. Jack would glance down at you every few moments, admiring your scrunched brows and concentration.

Yup, you were his moon. It was one hundred percent decided.

Like an astronomer, he was captivated by you, but whilst he was willing to share the actual, real-life moon with billions of people, he'd be damned if he'd ever let anyone else tamper with his girl.

You were his, just as much as he was yours.

And you really wouldn't have it any other way.

a/n: I am a slut for comparing people to things icl so this ask was literally begging to be written.

#wineauntie #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fluff #Jack Hughes #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #nhl x reader

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justrustandstardust · 2 months

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in the face of all the homophobic anons flooding my inbox, there’s one thing i want to make abundantly clear:

gojo and geto are queer-coded regardless of whether or not you understand their relationship to be romantic. all it takes is one (1) critical thought to understand that romance is a dimension of queerness; it does not constitute it. yes, people understand their connection in a romantic context because that is a facet of their queerness. even if you don’t recognize the romantic dimension of their relationship, that does not negate the fact that gojo and geto’s characters & connection are indisputably and intentionally queered already.

i’m not saying they’re not romantically involved— on the contrary, anyone with half a fucking braincell and the ability to conduct surface-level textual analysis would clock that facet of their dynamic. what i’m saying is that the romantic dimension of their relationship does not singlehandedly make them queer simply because it happens to align with popular understandings and depictions of queerness. romance is there, yes, but romance alone does not constitute their queerness: they are queer alongside and independently of the axis of romance.

you can think of romance as a conduit— it’s one expression of their queerness, like a branch extending from a tree. when we say they are queered, we are beseeching you to stop pointing to the branch and insisting it is the entire tree. to be queer is to be insurgent, vibrant, subversive, effervescent— the branches extend endlessly from the infinitely faceted treetrunk. romance is merely one amongst many; it alone does not bear the insignia of queerity.

queerness is not an imposition upon them, it constitutes every aspect of their characters. it’s in geto’s monstrous femininity, it’s in gojo’s mournfully joyous disposition, it’s in both of their roles as guardians of children and protectors of chosen groups. it’s in the intimacy of their connection, it’s in their joy and their grief, it’s in their devotion and their tragedy. it quite literally is who they are, with or without the dimension of romance.

when these pseudo-intellectuals defend them from being deemed queer, they’re defending them from THEIR limited conception of what it means to be queer. in accusing everyone of Turning Them Gay, they don’t realize the call is coming from inside the house and that everything they love about gojo and geto was queer to begin with— just not in the one-dimensional way they understand queerness to operate.

if they stopped guzzling the heteropatriarchal kool-aid, it would become apparent to anyone with basic critical thinking skills that the ones who are ruining their characters are not the people who recognize gojo and geto for who they are, but those who break off the branch to beat the tree.

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chococolte · 2 years

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May i please request SAGAU with scaramouche, tighnari, cyno and kazuha "You have such beautifull hair. They would look stunning if you grew them out. I promise i would help you take care of it"

event closed!

word count. 1.2k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, power dynamics, religious + cult themes, sagau + cult au, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. sorry i haven't posted in a hot minute, currently at my grandmothers & my brother has the flu, so i've had a hard time focusing on writing T_T

scaramouche

"You have such beautiful hair. It would look stunning if you grew it out. I promise I'll help you take care of it."

Your voice is soft like a lamb's fleece. His heart clenches from your tone, twisting as if pulled tight by an invisible string. You run your fingers through his hair, playing with it like it's something to be treasured. You touch him as if he's something precious; something to be nurtured and protected.

The thought hurts more than he thought it would. And Scaramouche detests the feeling building in his chest, hammering against his ribcage— burrowing deep within him, far enough he can no longer reach it. Far enough that he can't stop it, anymore.

Scaramouche shudders when your hands brush against the nape of his neck, warm against the cold of his skin. His heart pulls once again, teetering to the edge, and it takes all of his will not to slip deeper into your warmth. You tug at his dark violet hair, rubbing his strands in between your fingers as if his hair is the smooth petal of a sakura bloom.

I promise, you say. Scaramouche wants to believe you. He wants to throw everything away and entrust himself to you in his entirety. He wants to believe that you will be the singular god, the one person, to never betray him; he wants to think you will never throw him away. Your promise is small, but Scaramouche has lost so much. He has already shown you too much.

"If that is what you wish for," he says, voice weak. He doesn't bother to bite back, to snap at you with unkindness; instead, all he thinks is of your words.

As he closes his eyes, the back of his eyelids dance with stars in the shape of you. You braid his hair and paint the dull white world he's known for his entire life with color. You fill his world with laughter, and you don't ask for anything in return.

He hopes you keep your promise.

tighnari

Tighnari can't bear to meet your eyes.

Your hands are still running through his hair, pushing his bangs to the side. Your fingers glide over his forehead, and though your touch is faint, he feels the warmth radiating from your fingertips.

Tighnari vaguely realizes he should respond to you, but the words die on his tongue, stay frozen in his throat— his ears and tail still twitch and wag, his shoulders still shake and flitter. He tries to swallow it down, but finds himself suffocating.

He has never been brought to his knees like this before. He has never been speechless, nor thoughtless— his mind only a jumble of words and meaningless phrases. His only coherent thought is of you; you, dressed in your light and suffused with your kindness. You, bright and effervescent, the ineffable and infallible god. You, his god, his creator— you, loved by his soul and tangled within.

You don't rush him, continuing to play with the blue of his hair. You're gentle, soft like dewdrops on his skin. Tighnari wonders if you're being patient, or if you threw the words carelessly enough that you did not care for his response. Even if thought nothing of him, Tighnari wouldn't mind, he'd barely feel the course of rage; he would be saddened, but to worship you alone is enough.

Tighnari still clings to his pride, to the shame he would feel if you saw him so desperate— he resists the urge to fall deeper into you with every one of your lingering brushes against his skin, reminding himself that you have no use of a worshiper tainted by greed.

"I…" The rock in Tighnari's throat finally lets up, allowing him to breathe. He hopes you don't notice the softness in his tone, the slight creek of his voice. "For you, Your Grace… anything."

cyno

Your fingers thread through Cyno's white hair uninterrupted, even despite his sudden stillness.

A scorching heat envelops his cheeks like the desert sun, searing and almost cruel. Cyno feels like a fire has been lit underneath his skin, burning and contorting to the form of his face. He wonders if you've noticed. He wonders if you care, though the thought only lasts for a brief moment before he rips it apart.

You softly twirl some of his hair, rolling it around your finger. Cyno tries to keep himself composed, attempting to face the roaring of his heart with equanimity. His hands still lightly tremble in his lap, reeling from your compliment, small as it might've been.

He hopes you've noticed. But Cyno wouldn't blame you if you hadn't, or if you didn't care. Your will is sacred, meant to be revered and venerated; to force his own on yours is sacrilegious. To expect you to do anything for him is foolish. That you like one aspect of him should be enough.

Yet, Cyno can't help himself from leaning into your words. To be special to you, to hold a place in your heart— to be the one who you love. Cyno would never imagine himself worthy enough to stand beside you, never have the gall to think himself deserving of it— but his heart still sings, still drones in his chest from the implication of your words.

You care, minute as it may be. That is enough for him. Even if you can't keep your promise to him, he will keep it for you.

"Your will is my command," Cyno replies, eyes hard and resolute.

kazuha

Your fingers are tangled in Kazuha’s hair.

He doesn't dare to complain, even when you accidentally pull too hard. Even when you latch onto a small knot and tug, he keeps his lips pursed tight, unwilling to make even a small noise.

Your promise is a small one. It would be easy for you to forget. It would be easy for you to take it back. Kazuha wouldn't blame you; only feel the dull ache in his chest that rumbles whenever he is without you. Still, he latches onto your words, onto what he knows you only uttered without thinking.

Kazuha wants you to stay. He likes it when you're near. Your presence is soft. You feel like home. Your touch is love itself, despite how his skin burns every time you brush against it.

If he closes his eyes tight enough, breathes in your scent well enough, Kazuha begins to find the pain almost pleasurable— accidental as it may be, it stops being a jolt or a groan. Only more of you, of your warmth, your comfort.

It's not as painful anymore. It's just you, after all; and you could do nothing to him to make him stop loving you. Rip his hair, or stab his heart— if it is from you, the maker of his everything, the owner of his soul; who is he to deny you?

You take his hair and braid it, one lock over another. Despite the moment of silence, you continue unimpeded, a soft smile on your face. It is with this that Kazuha is thankful you can't see his expression.

His eyes crinkle at the corners, a glimmer of fervor and quiet adoration dancing within.

“Whatever you wish,” Kazuha eyes, smile audible in his voice.

#[🦇] — my writing #genshin impact #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin x reader #sagau #self aware genshin #sagau scaramouche #sagau kazuha #sagau tighnari #sagau cyno #yandere scaramouche #yandere kazuha #yandere tighnari #yandere cyno #gender neutral reader

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blossomwritesthings · 6 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭

pairing: jisung x fem!reader x male oc (afab)

genre: producer!jisung/hairstylist!reader. badboy!jisung. enemies to lovers. twin dynamic. cheating/infidelity au. some angst. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. thematic elements. just a tad bit of angst in this, but mainly, it's just degenerate shit. cheating is a big part of this. smut warnings below cut!!

word count: 4.1k

summary: the han twins are infamous in south korea for being the #1 duo in the country, with han jisoon gifted in rapping and han jisung in producing. jisoon is the best man a girl could ever ask for- and a wonderful boyfriend. it's just too bad that jisung is the one you truly want out of the two brothers.

18+ warnings: unprotected sex (keep it safe, my friends). kindaa jealousy sex. harddom!jisung. cheating sex. sub!reader. fingering. dom/sub undertones. degradation (slut, whore, etc.). manhandling kink. size kink. humiliation. dumbification. ownership/possession. jisung edges reader a bunch. overstimulation galore. lots of dirty talk. breeding kink!!. subspace. orgasm denial.

a/n: OKAY- SO !!!! 😖 I first got inspired to write this months ago just from watching this edit over and over again. 😩 originally, this was gonna be a chan fic, but I decided to change it to hanji at the last minute, so here we are lol! 😂 honestly, this is kind of an interesting premise for a longer series, so idk... if I'm feeling inspired to, I might expand on this oneshot and make another part to it... lmk if that's smth you guys would be interested in!! 🤎

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). do not copy, spin-off, or write inspired work based off of this fanfic without full permission to do so. ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

"W-We shouldn't be doing this," you gasped out, feeling the rise of your arousal flooding every part of your mind. It overtook all of your senses - forcing you to see stars, making the blood in your veins boil deliciously, casting visions of rainbows across your mind, flashes of effervescent violet and topaz coating your eyelids. "It's... it's not right."

The man between your legs was incessant in his movements, pressing your spine a little harder into the shower's cool tiled wall. One hand clamped down onto your hip, nails digging into sensitive flesh there, as he held you up, continuing to hoist your legs around his waist tightly. His other hand was busy at work between your colliding bodies, thumb drawing messy circles around your clit. It was so fucking puffy and felt like it was engulfed in a vat of flames.

"Why? Because you wanna deny that you're mine? That only I can make you feel this way, only I can fit this pussy so well?" His messy raven locks curled underneath the shower's hot steam, his entire naked form covered in a glistening sheen of suds and sweat and water. "You stay with him- with that prick, but you and I both know that he doesn't bring you to your knees like this- doesn't fuck you as well as I do."

And the worst part about it- was that you knew he was right.

Deep down, in the depths of your heart, mind, and spirit, you knew he only spoke the truth.

That's the thing that killed you the most.

The Han twins were infamous in the music industry - raising their empire of success from the ground up in the basement of their parent's house when they were just young boys in middle school. As they grew older, they only became better at their crafts - Han Jisoon with his rapping, and Han Jisung with his producing.

Soon after their 18th birthday, they made their official debut in the Seoul music scene. Instantly, their first track was a complete hit - sweeping the nation with its catchy rhythm and unique rap lines. It was unlike anything anyone had ever heard, and by the time the twins turned twenty-one, they were on track to be the biggest stars of their generation - overtaking all other duos in the industry and winning all the year-end awards.

You met Jisoon, the singer out of the duo, when you were training to become a hair colorist and he was in his late twenties. One day, a mysterious man came into your salon in Hongdae. Soon after you heard your teacher talk about who he was to some of the other stylists there - you realized that the man you would be working with was none other than the biggest star in the country at the moment.

Instantly, there was a connection between the two of you. His smiles were so warm, the way he spoke to you so soft and delicate, his laugh contagious. His happiness was infectious, and like a drug, you began to think of nothing but him. After work that day, you came home to watch all of his performances and interviews, completely captivated by his persona.

As it turns out, he decided to use your salon for his monthly appointments - and soon, after you graduated with your specialty license in hair color, you became his personal hair colorist.

It didn't take long after that until you two grew a deep connection, and then he was asking for your number before he took you out on your first date together, and the rest... was history.

Honestly, he was the best boyfriend you could ever ask for. He was so fucking kind and sweet and considerate. He wasn't selfish in the least bit and always wanted the best for you. And when you told him you wanted to keep things on the down-low in regards to your relationship, he heeded your wishes. Over the three years that you two had been dating, not a single word had gotten out to the press about your relationship. Sure, his fans speculated about his relationship status, but no one ever came out with any hard evidence of his true girlfriend.

He had even met your parents during Chuseok soon after your first anniversary, much to their delight. He brought over gifts for your mother and spent time out on your father's boat fishing in the early morning even though he hated fishing and always got seasick. Your mother fell in love with him during your trip, and wouldn't stop talking about the expensive rice cakes he had brought her for that holiday season. Your father also took a keen liking to him, saying he enjoyed having a fishing partner, which was your father's way of saying that he approved of your choice of a man.

All of your friends loved Han Jisoon too. Your best friend, Ryujin, was obsessed with your relationship - and was always checking up on the two of you. She was just chomping at the bit for him to propose, and every Christmas that passed, she claimed that 'next year, he'll do it on New Year- I swear to you that he will.'

Jisoon liked to hang out with you and your friends when his schedule allowed him to, and you did the same with his large group of friends. Granted, most of his connections were either famous producers or other popular singers, but still - you liked the fact that he wasn't afraid to introduce you to the important people in his life. Because all of it made you feel important to him.

Not to mention all of the gifts he got you - sending you huge bouquets of your favorite flowers when he was away on tour, and sending you little gifts here and there 'just because.' Like the box of chocolates during a particularly shitty day of your period, or the small teddy bear that was programmed with his voice and said 'I love you,' that he bought for you during one of his promotional business trips to Taiwan.

Overall, he was the best person you had ever met. He was funny and quirky and so fucking entertaining to be around. Not to mention talented- he could write thirty lines of rap within an hour, something you never could get over even after years of knowing him. He was perpetually changing his hair color too, thanks to your help - and for the past year, he had been rocking a dusty blonde look. He also loved to dress in bright colors and wasn't one to shy away from all the new fashion trends.

So... everything must've been amazing, right?

You had a beautiful, unique boyfriend who fucking adored you and practically worshipped the ground you walked on.

So then, what was the problem?

Well, for one thing, the root of the entire bane of your existence was his twin brother, Han Jisung.

With his perpetually messy black hair, onyx eyes, and scowl he always seemed to wear no matter what. You had never seen him dressed in anything other than dark clothes - grays and blacks only.

His temperament matched his outward appearance, with his downright rude personality at times and his snide comments that were always directed towards you. He was an absolute thorn in your ass and he loved being one.

He and your boyfriend couldn't be more different from each other, and you were almost surprised when you first met him after you and Jisoon first started dating. Because... they were such stark opposites of each other it was almost comical.

But Jisoon loved his brother, despite his flaws and all, and since they had an entire career together, you were forced to share space with your boyfriend's other half. When Jisoon would invite you over to the studio late at night to listen to some of the new lyrics he had written, there Jisung was. Sitting at the desk in the recording studio, directing everything and making changes to the track... just brooding for a fight.

When he worked, Jisung was even more serious than his normal day-to-day persona; changing into this silent, man with a menacing kind of aura surrounding him as he sat behind a huge desk in their shadowy recording studio.

You'd be turned on by the sight of it all if you were dating Jisoon - his twin brother.

But as it turns out, life has a funny way of playing tricks on you...

On your mind and heart and everything you had grown accustomed to.

And before you even realized it was happening, your dynamics were changing. No longer was it you and Jisoon against Jisung. Slowly but surely, throughout your relationship, you somehow grew closer to your boyfriend's twin brother.

It started with him being a little nicer to you randomly during your visits to the recording studio, or during the luncheons you'd sometimes attend with your boyfriend and his entire crew.

Han Jisung turned out to be kind of... nice.

Despite all of his flaws and rude mannerisms.

But even so, he was still an asshole, he was still annoying most of the time and a total prick. He liked to get under your skin, and wiggle around in there - teasing you just enough to the point where you were close to blowing up at him. But he always pulled back eventually.

Almost like, he enjoyed the thought of edging you irrevocably, for years on end.

Things came to a screeching halt though, when the twins were on tour and Jisoon invited you to tag along with him to their dates in Japan. Not wanting to deny the offer since you had always wanted to visit the country, you joined him during the four days that he and Jisung would be in Tokyo.

At first, everything was going smoothly.

Their rehearsal the night before their first show went well, and you enjoyed sightseeing with your boyfriend after he was finished with preparations. After the two of you got back to your hotel, Jisoon quickly fell asleep in your shared queen-sized bed, completely exhausted from his busy schedule.

And then somehow, you had found yourself roaming the halls of the luxurious hotel, stumbling upon a small alcove in the back of the spacious place, fit with a self-serve mini bar and a few velvet-lined seats overlooking the glittering night's cityscape.

But the person who was sitting in one of those seats was the thing that surprised you the most, with his black tresses and even darker stare. He regarded you with a tilt of his head, swishing around the ice in his crystal glass that was filled with dark bourbon.

Pathetically, it only took you three drinks in.

Perhaps the red wine they served at the hotel's mini bar was more potent than the stuff you were used to in South Korea.

Or, perhaps you were just as exhausted as your boyfriend Jisoon from spending the day traveling across the city and sightseeing.

But before you knew it, you had somehow migrated onto Jisung's lap, allowing him to place his palms on your ass that was just barely covered by the mini skirt you had changed into to tour the city with Jisoon earlier that night.

"I have a boyfriend, Jisung," you had said, as the man before you leaned in a little closer to your form. Nose coming close to your exposed neck, he had breathed in a deep sigh. Your spine shuttered from how near he was to you. Nearer than the two of you had ever been before. "Jisoon- he- he loves me."

After that, Jisung looked up at you with a raised eyebrow, a dark, familiar look twirling right there in his eyes. He stared on at you in silence, before he let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Oh please- you couldn't give a flying fuck about my brother. Especially not when you're with me..."

The moment his lips had come in contact with your skin, you melted instantly - like a bar of milk chocolate being held over the high flames of a fire. The fire ended up being him, his heat engulfing you as his mouth came around the spot between your clavicle and neck, teeth biting down there slowly, tongue darting out and licking ever so slightly.

"I've seen the way you stare- you're practically begging me to fuck you at any chance that we're together," Jisung had grunted out, his mutterings fanning against your skin and making the butterflies erupt even faster in the pit of your stomach. "Such a little whore- why have one brother when you can have two, right?"

After that, you were trying to push him away. Palms on his muscular chest, you tried to move off of his lap. But his digits just dug in harder to the supple flesh of your asscheeks, and when you moved slightly, you could feel the hardness of his middle gently hitting up into your warm center.

In the end, you couldn't deny the wetness that was slowly growing in your panties. But you could sure try your damndest to forget about it all. "I'm dating someone else, we... can't..." Your voice trailed off after that, as his mouth traced up the column of your neck, pressing light, heart-fluttering kisses against your jawline and the corner of your mouth.

"Too bad you're such a horrible fucking liar then," Jisung said in a low voice, staring into your eyes and giving you that look - the one he always leveled your way when he was officially done with your bullshit. "Too bad I can no longer ignore the wetness that's growing between your legs- ignore the way you press these cute little pussy lips together each time I make you squirm with my taunting."

In the next instant, he was pressing his mouth against yours, swallowing up your groan of surprise, quieting the moans that threatened to slip free from deep inside of you when his tongue danced against yours.

Turns out, he was right.

Without even really realizing it, you had been taunting him.

For fucking years.

With your combativeness, and playful banter. Not to mention, the long stares and shifting in your seat every time he made you feel... bothered.

He was like a powerful magnet, something you couldn't deny the pull of any longer.

Your kiss there on the chair in the hotel alcove turned into something heated and disastrous, and soon, you found yourself locked up in Han Jisung's hotel room - hands pinned against the soft downy mattress as his thick cock ripped you right open. He drew the filthiest of sounds out from the depths of your soul as he pounded into you completely raw, fucking you well into the night. He edged you for hours - just like he did in your regular lives - before bringing you over the brink of five different orgasms.

The sex with your boyfriend Jisoon was good,

but nothing could compare to the way that Jisung made you feel that night.

How filled up you had felt - completely whole in every way possible.

Usually, the sex with your boyfriend was fairly quick, very vanilla, and in the same three positions.

Meanwhile, Jisung had you in all kinds of ways that night - knees, back, stomach. You name it, he somehow coaxed you into it.

And afterward, after he finished coating every crevice and surface of your insides and outsides in his seed and sweat and saliva, Han Jisung helped to clean you up. The two of you lay side by side in his bed for a little bit, soon after he had wiped your skin clean.

No words had been spoken between the two of you then, but you just felt, that nothing had to be said. The deed had been done. You had gotten over the hardest part.

And now... there was no going back.

When you had crept back to the room you were sharing with your boyfriend and laid down beside him just as the clock was about to strike five in the morning, you realized that things were completely ruined.

Nothing would ever be the same again - because no one would ever compare...

To the way Jisung made you feel that night, and how he had made you feel over the past few years, without you even fucking realizing it.

Slowly, as you lay there underneath the covers, hair disheveled and the marks of Jisung's lips littered across your body - your legs and arms and pussy sore from his arduous, heated attention - the tears slipped out of the corners of your eyes unchecked. You stared at the back of Jisoon, your boyfriend, and cried yourself into a listless kind of sleep, void of any dreams or thoughts.

"I'm sorry, babe," you had whispered to his sloped shoulders, just before your eyes had slipped shut in finality in the early morning rays of sunlight for that day. "I'm so fucking sorry..."

Three weeks after they were finished with their Japanese leg of the tour, and back home in Seoul resting before they finished up with their encore concert in America, Jisung paid a visit to the apartment you shared with Jisoon in the heart of Gangnam. Your boyfriend was out for the day, visiting his parents for the rare break that they had in their schedules.

The moment you opened your door and saw him standing there on the step, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. But the two of you didn't have to say anything, because you already knew.

Things had been ruined the moment you stumbled upon him late at night in that hotel, all those weeks ago.

That day, you christened every surface of your apartment with your mixed essence. Every place you could imagine, Jisung fucked you on: the kitchen counter, the living room couch, the dining room table, against the front door, in the shower, on the study room's floor, and perhaps worst of all... in your very own bed. The one you had shared with your boyfriend, who was also Jisung's twin brother, for years.

The sex that day was mind-blowing and cataclysmic, as Jisung led you over the brink of so many orgasms, you lost count after the third one. By the time the two of you were finished and the sun was beginning to set, you were so deep into an odd limbo state of mind that you couldn't even form a coherent thought or sentence.

And like a thief leaving in the middle of the night, like a ghost visiting you for only a time, Jisung just kissed you goodbye, promising he'd come back soon, and left you in your apartment right before your boyfriend came back.

He left you as a pile of messy hair, weak limbs, and a murky mind, sprawled out across your bed, completely naked and littered with bite marks and violet hickies. You managed to throw a nightgown on before your boyfriend came home and saw you that night.

You were so fucking ashamed, but no matter how bad you felt about it all, you couldn't stop yourself. And apparently, Jisung couldn't either. You two were drawn to each other, for whatever reason. And no external factor - even the idea of a long-term boyfriend - was going to stop the trainwreck that you were slowly causing with your secret meetings.

Over time, the periods spent with your boyfriend's twin brother bled together into a fever dream of passion and the greatest sex you had ever experienced in your life. Any chance you could get alone with each other, with your boyfriend nowhere in sight, the two of you were fucking...

In the recording studio, during the rehearsal for a TV appearance, at the hair salon you worked at, in the bathroom during a late-night dinner with their company. And soon, you found yourself falling into a weird kind of rhythm with Han Jisung. Half of the time, you spent it with your boyfriend, Jisoon. And the other half, you spent it with Jisung... fucking and delving into each other in all different ways.

Your time spent with the other brother became so intense and all-consuming that you lost track of how long it had been since everything had started. And that's how you found yourself that specific Friday night, with your boyfriend spending the night at the studio working on a recording. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to him, his twin brother was between your legs.

Jisung had already taken you wholly atop the dining room table earlier that night after you had finished eating the takeout he had brought over. Once you were done chewing your orange chicken and fried rice, the dark-haired man was upon you with a vengeance - ripping off your panties and pushing you atop the wooden table. His fingers had this magic touch to them, and within just a few minutes, with a couple of practiced strokes, he always brought you over the edge in a blinding light of arousal.

After he was finished with you on the table, you two took a shower together and somehow... he ended up inside of you, once again, for the millionth time in a row.

"W-What about Jisoon..." You whined out, head bumping against the tile wall at your back with every hard thrust of Jisung up into you. His cock stretched you out so deliciously, and you ground your hips against his, loving the feel of his hand clamped down on your clit, rubbing at it with a rabid kind of heat. "He... He'll die if he finds out, Ji..."

He flashed you a swarthy, devilish kind of smirk, before he leaned into you, pressing his teeth against your shoulder and biting down on your clavicle. Tongue coming out to press against the purple spot left there, he chuckled lowly. "Oh, just shut up already- I think we're past the point of you giving a fuck about him."

And then you were clutching onto his wet locks even harder, as he drilled his cock so far deep into you, entire galaxies and other worlds flashed across your vision. Gasping out in pure bliss, you moaned out his name breathlessness, your whines getting swallowed up by the sound of the running showerhead above you.

"Yeah, that's right... moan my name, bitch," Jisung coaxed in a deep voice, his thumb drawing figure eights around your puffy clit as his cock fucked the squelching juices back into you. "We both know this - us - is never ending... either you leave that fucker, or he finds me fucking you one of these days and everything turns to shit. Your choice."

You were so fucked out, mind fuzzy with arousal and the pit of your stomach on fire from all of the feeling coursing through your system that you could barely form a coherent sentence. Even still, you managed to crack your eyes open just a tad bit to level Jisung with a serious frown. "N-No... never- don't want to ruin this..." The breath caught in the middle of your throat as the tip of his rigid cock hit that soft spot deep inside of you, making your legs shake around his waist, cunt clenching around his length.

"Then take everything, you slut- be a good little whore and take daddy's cock," Jisung commanded out in a stern tone, pounding into you incessantly and making your ass bounce back and forth against the shower wall. "Open wider for me, baby doll- wanna see this pretty pussy of yours bulging with my cock."

As always, you did what he commanded of you. Spreading your legs wider and hugging them a little closer around his hips, your head shot back against the tile of the shower wall when you felt Jisung's cock prodding into you.

He pushed down on your lower belly, feeling the way his thick cock rubbed up into you so far, he bulged out against the seams and the outline of him displayed deep inside of you. "Oh fuck- such a cute pussy... fits me so fucking well..." Jisung said in a low voice, as he rubbed a little harder against your clit with his thumb. Meanwhile, his dick was reaching all new lengths inside of you, drawing out a flurry of moans from between your lips. "J-Just a little longer... just hold on a little more, 'kay kitten?"

And in the end, you heeded his commands. All of them. You did everything he wanted, because truthfully- you couldn't help yourself. Couldn't deny him, no matter what.

Fin.

🌊 taglist: want to be added onto my taglist? well then, comment below on this post/reblog it, and indicate your interest in my taglist and i'll add you... or, you can send me a msg and request to be added!! to be removed from the taglist, please send me a msg and i will promptly take you off of the list.

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dollarstoreartsupplies · 5 months

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see in terms of hatchetfield str8 ships we all know that the dynamic apparently, legally, has to be a magical, powerful, effervescent woman/Just Some Guy-- but a very important aspect of that dynamic is the magical, powerful, effervescent woman in convinced that their Just Some Guy hung the moon and stars in the sky and would kill anyone who insinuated otherwise

EXCEPT (this is so incredibly important) for paul and emma

like does emma love paul? obviously yes! but also she knows he is Just Some Guy, Just A Dude, a wet paper towel of a man-- this is a large part of the appeal

#I mean just some guy SO SO SO fondly this is a very important distinction I love these Guys #like lautski and halloweane are the best example of the former #by the end of npmd steph WILL square up to ANYONE who doesn't think Pete is the best most specialest little guy #and likeeee ms Holloway IS correct about Duke being the best most perfect guy but also He's Just A Dude and she will NEVER comprehend that #but Emma? Emma is like “this is my wet cardboard boyfriend”#“I love him deeply he is Nothing though”#“his sum total for positive impact on the world in his lifetime is actually mathematically negligible and that TURNS ME ON”#paulkins #emma perkins #paul matthews #lautski #halloweane #also the guys all see their respective gfs the same way but they're all obviously correct about that #this is also about lex and Ethan but lex is convinced thats not the case #like lex is like ahaha love Ethan that loser #and then someone says 'yeah he's Such a loser' and she summons her black and white powers to destroy them

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fayes-fics · 6 months

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Hiii I’m so excited about kinktober! I’d like to request Benedict + regency + praise kink

Kinktober: Benedict + Praise Kink

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Paring: Benedict Bridgeton x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, dom/sub dynamics, praise kink, anal fingering, masturbation.

Authors Note: Hi Nonny, I hope you enjoy this. It’s far too long lol. Enjoy! 🧡

“Keep breathing slowly for me, my beautiful,” Benedict tutors softly.

The scent of clove oil swirls in the air as you take deep, calming breaths, just as instructed. The crackling from the fireplace across the room is soothing, flames warming your naked skin. You try to concentrate on your pattern of inhaling and exhaling, but there’s a frisson over your skin as you lay face down with his finger sliding deeper into your bottom, your body clinging to him so tightly.

That’s it,” he encourages voice rough. “Oh, you are doing so well.”

You can feel his slightly laboured breath gusting hot over bum cheeks as he concentrates on the task, going slow for you to adjust to this new alien but pleasant sensation.

“Are you ready for more, my sweet? You are being so very good for me,” he murmurs.

“Yes sir,” you exhale, burying yourself into the pillow, your face flushed and butterflies in your tummy from the praise he is showering on you, willing to do anything for him.

“Good girl,” he pats your right cheek gently before you feel a slight twist and then further pressure as another long finger slides in to accompany the first, your responding groan taciturn.

He begins to move his oily fingers in and out, slow but steady. The drag of his knuckles around your ring of muscle makes your eyes roll, wanting to beg for more, feeling your cunt swelling ripe, a heavy tingle around your clit.

“Yes, you are perfect, my sweet one,” he lauds. “You are taking my fingers so well.”

You fight the urge in your internal muscles to expel his questing digits, taking a gulp of air before tentatively raising your hips, a silent plea for more.

“Does my brave little one want another finger?” he chuckles warmly, intuiting your need.

“Yes, please, sir,” you admit mutely.

“Such a beautiful creature,” he flatters as you feel a third stretch your opening and push in, feeling so utterly filled now.

He keeps up a steady pace, rocking his fingers deep, withdrawing almost to the tip, whispering your praises in a way that makes you effervescent and heady. Over and over, he plunges until pleasure builds so much you are whimpering and soaked, needing release.

“Please, sir,” you beseech, “I… I want to come,” you stutter the truth.

“Touch yourself, little one.”

Instantly you obey, worming a hand under your dewy body. Your arousal is leaking profusely; you moan as your fingertips take a tentative swipe over your engorged clit. Benedict growls, able to see your fingers, even as he never waivers from his rhythm inside your bottom.

“That is perfect,” he whispers with a jagged edge, “make yourself come, my darling girl, come with your sir’s fingers in your bottom.”

You lift your hips off the bed a fraction, tilting your pelvis to take more of him, faster, harder, pushing yourself quickly towards a peak.

“Will you fuck me there too, sir? With your cock?” you pant, breathlessly excited by the very thought as you strum your clit hard.

“Yes, my sweet darling girl. I will,” his reply hushed like he is holding back from doing so immediately.

“When?” you goad, knowing he is smirking crookedly now.

“When you’ve been my good girl and come all over your fingers, then I will fuck your pretty little bottom,” he promises, his breath hitching and ragged, his fingers moving faster as yours do too. “And I need not withdraw; I shall release inside you, darling girl. When we do it this way, there is no fear of leaving you with child,” he explains.

The thought is so appealing that you race towards completion, keen to feel his cock spurting inside you, painting your insides with his cum rather than your tummy or back. You do as bidden, riding your fingertips as he stretches your bottom with his, readying you for his cock. The blend of intense sensations overwhelming.

A few moments later, the cord of tension curled tightly in your core snaps, fireworks behind your eyelids as you spasm so forcefully that he pauses his litany of compliments to groan. His voice sounds so near yet far away, blood rushing in your ears as you cry out and flutter around him, your whole body tingling as you collapse into the mattress, his fingers stilling.

“You are so perfect, my wonderful girl,” he murmurs as your erratic breathing calms, his fingers slipping from inside you as he pours more oil, a cold slick over your heated hole. “Are you ready for me?” he checks, clambering over you on all fours.

“Yes sir,” you slur, still strung out from your orgasm.

“Good girl,” he rumbles right into your ear now.

No taglist as these drabbles are short

#kinktober 2023 #kinktober #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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