Are your requests still open? I know it's been a while since you've posted and was wondering if you did still!
hi! yes, they are. I frequently think about writing⊠actually doing it is something else entirely đ€ people in my inbox have also not been very kind recently so that doesnât motivate me at all, but you never know, maybe the right request would inspire me to get back into it đ
(moonbyul x gender neutral reader, ~580 words, fluff/comfort?)
cw: nail biting/picking + being insecure about your hands
a/n: sorry it's so short, had a long week ;;
Embarrassment? Shame? Something of the like. And sure, it's stress-related. But it doesn't help that the habit itself is stress-inducing. A never-ending cycle of sorts.
It's not even something you notice until well after the fact. When you change your hold on a pen because it hurts with the usual grip. When it just hurts to grasp anything after ripping out hangnails, fingers unwarrantedly warm but stress temporarily sated from that string of skin yanked out from beside one nail bed. When you realize in a moment of silence that your fingertips ache from having bitten away the whites of your nails forcibly exposing the tender skin underneath.
So it's no surprise that under most circumstances your hands rest deep in your pants pockets or squashed beneath your thighs when you sit. Or maybe retracted inside the elastic cuffs of the oversized hoodies she always lends you. On occasion the conscious insecurity escapes your mind for a fleeting moment, until you're caught with a nail between your bared teeth.
Some drama plays on the tv. Your body's lazily slotted between her sweatpant-clad legs, head resting on her chest while the gentle thump of her heartbeat beneath her hoodie offers its typical comfort. The arm draped over your torso keeps you pressed to her body, not that you plan on moving anytime soon.
You absentmindedly fiddle with a tough hangnail, mind under-stimulated and trying to figure out what to do with your hands. Byulyi presumably notices and moves to grab your hands, but you stop and ball your fists before she gets to them.
Your head shakes, retracting your hands even deeper into your long sleeves away from her gaze, much like a turtle hiding in its shell. Byul, stubborn as ever, places her hands over your balled-up fists, coaxing them open with gentle swipes of her thumb over the fabric.
"Are you gonna let me hold your hands?" she asks gently, patting over the sleeves where your hands reside.
"You already are," you reply begrudgingly with a pout. A breath escapes her nose in tandem with an upturned corner of her mouth. She peers around your head, trying to get a read on your expression. It's not the first time you've felt like this by any means, but you're not saying no to her reassurance. âTheyâre gross though, so why would you even want to?â you add on quietly, shrinking back into yourself. Her arms cross over themselves, hands trailing up yours to squeeze your shoulders in a hug.
"Because I love you, and they're a part of you. What other reason would I need?" she replies matter-of-factly, voice low in your ear. Fair enough, you figure, lifting your arms for her to ease the sleeves down. She grasps one of your hands in hers and swings your arm away from your body, her lips meeting the back of your hand in an overly dramatic fashion. You can't help but laugh as you wriggle the hand out of her grip. She finds your other hand anyway, fingers interlocking with yours more carefully this time. She flashes her signature cheesy grin and you can't help but groan, head falling back into her chest.
"What am I gonna do with you?" you sigh airily, straining your eyebrows to stare up at her.
"I dunno, you tell me. But our hands fit well together, and that's a fact," she replies, smirking against your hair after planting a sweet kiss to the top of your head.
contents: established relationship, smut - oral (whee receiving), switchy things I suppose
a/n: good lord, this was the 3rd smut I ever wrote, I think? I literally finished this in july of last year... as to what possessed me to hang on to it for this long I have absolutely no clue, but here y'all go đ
Needless to say, you felt a bit dizzy. Wheein had never come on so strong before. âWhere⊠is this coming from?â you struggled to vocalize, trying and failing to sound collected. She moved her head beside yours, positioning her lips right next to your ear.
âCâmon,â she whispered slyly. âDonât pretend like I donât have it in me to act like this.â Which was true, you had seen her range. Performance work always involved some element of acting, but you had always wondered how much of it was genuine. She clambered on top of you to straddle your waist between her thighs. She took your wrists in her hands and slid them along the mattress above your head as she leaned down to kiss you hard, lips colliding chaotically.
She ground her hips into yours in one motion, a small pleasure-filled sigh escaping her lips. The sound sent shivers down your back, pulse thrumming in your chest. Feeling her weight on top of you, noting that the only things separating your bodies consisted of couple large t-shirts and your underwear. You wiggled a hand free from her grasp to finally bring it under her shirt, the urge for skin to skin contact overtaking you, but she swiftly clasped your wrist and pinned your hand back above your head next to the other. Hands twisting frantically, attempting to remove them from her grasp just encouraged her to hold on tighter. You pouted, trying to thrust your hips under her as an attempt at any kind of stimulation.
âYou came on so strong just to not let me touch you?â you groaned.
âBut youâre hot when you act like this,â she said matter-of-factly, lips pursed and face hovering just above yours.
Eyebrows furrowing, you huffed. âIâm not acting! Let go of my hands, Wheein, before I make you.â You instantly regretted saying that and she knew it, judging by the mischievous smirk on her face.
âIs that a challenge?â
âNo!â you rushed to say. âWheein, let go of my hands.â
âMake me.â
Rolling your eyes at the situation you unintentionally created, you kissed her deeply. Open-mouthed kisses planted along her cheeks with a dedicated pause at her dimple. Moving up her jawline and arriving at her ear, you gently kneaded her earlobe between your teeth, starting to whisper all the things you could do to her⊠if sheâd just let go of your hands. Her expression appeared unaffected, but the wetness soaking through her panties atop your thighs said otherwise. She rolled her hips on top of you again, vying for stimulation as you continued whispering into her ear. You found that weak spot long ago. She was a musician, after all. (Un)fortunately, you were the same way - Wheein trying to contain her moans right next to your ear made your desperation all the more pressing, feeling your own underwear starting to soak through. You flexed your thighs, attempting again to create some form of friction for yourself.
She noticed, of course. Transferring the task of holding your wrists to just one of her hands, she ghosted the tip of her finger over your underwear, gasping at the wetness. Your face screwed up in frustration, the need for her to press in harder ever-building.
âIâve barely touched you,â she teased. You stuck her tongue out at her.
âSpeak for yourself. Youâre soaked and I havenât even used my hands,â you shot back, gloating. Watching her expression change, busy thinking of a witty comeback, you seized the opportunity to free your wrists, swinging your arms in one motion to wrench them free from the singular hand that held them. In a rapid tousle and tangling of sheets, you managed to press a finger to her now thoroughly soaked underwear, garnering a strained moan and a distraction brief enough to flip each other over, your knees landing on the bed with her small body now below you.
Without pause, you found yourself pushing your hands into the bed above her shoulders to drag your own poorly-covered core across her thigh. An anguished moan left your throatâ definitely not enough.
âYyouâŠyâŠyouâre wearing too many clothes,â she managed to stammer beneath you. You responded with a prideful smirk and pushed her shirt up to her armpits, exposing the milky skin beneath. She hummed impatiently, âI said you, not me.â
âYouâre technically still wearing it,â you stated, gesturing to the bunched up shirt. She rolled her eyes. The exasperation quickly evaporated when you took her nipple into your mouth, feeling it harden under the swirl of your tongue.
After giving attention to both sides and keeping your fingers busy with her nipples, you lowered your face between her legs, nipping at her inner thighs. When your mouth finally made its way to her core, you gingerly poked your tongue past her folds, giving her clit a cursory pass. Wheeinâs face scrunched in pleasure, your eyes darting to her hands grasping at the sheets beneath them. The farther your lips moved away from where she truly needed them to be, the whinier her pleas. Witnessing her unravel at the slightest touch was a sight to behold, but itâs exactly what she deserved after the wrist-holding stunt she tried to pull earlier. Who said she'd get to have all the fun?
Given enough teasing and begging, your tongue finally circling around her clit elicited all kinds of gasps, her hips constantly raising off the bed as if it would make you go deeper. Your hands splayed themselves across her stomach to press her back down into the bed, steadying her. Such lewd sounds filled the air, but her high-pitched whimpers signaled for more. Removing a hand from her stomach, you pressed two fingers into her core, hips rolling again at the push. Her breathing becoming evermore erratic, you increased the pace of your tongue and hands to match her. The climax eventually came with a loud hitch in her breathing that rang through the room, paired with her clench and release around your fingers. Slipping your now-covered fingers out of her, you lapped up a bit of the mess to the best of your abilities, a piercing yelp leaving her when brushing your tongue near her still-throbbing clit. Wandering over to the bathroom to grab a towel, you wiped the sheen off your chin and gently dabbed at her inner thighs, wiping up everything your tongue didn't catch.
Staring at her core to ensure a thorough clean-up job, "I made you let go of my hands." you said off-handedly with a smirk. Pausing the wiping to look for a response in her face, she met your eyes with a fiery determination without skipping a beat.
"You're still wearing too many clothes," she remarked. "Now let's see if I can make you let go."
Alright kids, listen up because @staff have pulled off a corker of a hot mess and have decided to add "Community Labels". I guess they've decided we can't be trusted to add our own warnings and people can't make sensible choices with what they engage with.
But why does it matter to me?
Tumblr have made labels AN OPT IN SITUATION which means every single blog here is automatically set to hide any triggering content
If you want to continue to be able to access and read fanfiction PLEASE go into your settings and click "show" on at least the "Mature" and "Sexual Themes" labels!!
ALSO IOS USERS: there's an extra fun "Hide additional content" bit just to really try and block us from any hopes of success. Make sure you opt out of that too otherwise I think content will be blocked on the mobile app!
Attached to this post are screenshots from my settings so you guys know what to look for. I could only find it on my desktop settings and not on the mobile app (for now at least)
[I feel like I should add I don't want to sound like I'm pressuring anyone... if you don't want to see certain content obviously keep it hidden and protect yourselves BUT this post is mainly targeted at the horny little gremlins I write for who will be suddenly deeply confused when their smut supply is cut off]
that moment when mashup songs are, in fact, not in different keys and the internet lied to you, but you tried to work it out by ear and had to pull up a digital piano to make sure đ
but on the bright side, they're in the same key, so no funky sounds from artificial pitching
damn, the duality. (hwasa x fem?reader, ~700 words)
cw: smut (sort of), minors dni
happy birthday to our queen :')
Eyes fluttering open at the light streaming through the bedroom blinds, a certain musk still hung in the air from whatever happened last night. You turned your head to look at Hyejin sleeping beside you, a pout cemented on her face in a deep sleep. The plush bedsheets surrounding your bare body felt almost foreign as someone who rarely slept naked. You always slept clothed if you could help it, usually taking the time to find your discarded garments on the ground after having sex to put them back on - but if it was late enough into the night after getting absolutely railed, having Hyejin pull you in close and croon into your ear to stay by her side was a request easily granted. How could you not?
It certainly had been one of those nights. The mild soreness between your legs wouldn't let you forget that, at least for the rest of today. An familiar warmth started making its way through your body at the mere recollection of being pressed up against the wall in the dark, breathlessly begging her to fuck you faster. Her long nails never failed to cause you a twinge of concern in the bedroom, but she knew how to use them - she knew your body. The tender scratches down your back, the subtle marks she left on your hips to anchor herself whenever she pushed into you, and the feather-light grazes she'd use to tease you to no end - all elements she had grown to learn about in other nights similar to the last.
Hyejins demeanor in the morning, once past the initial grumpiness of being woken up, always toned down from how she behaved late into the night, any signs of rough treatment nowhere to be found save for the marks on your neck or the soreness between your legs and instead just wanted to be taken care of, which of course you were happy to oblige.
You knew Hyejin would sleep in forever if she could, but with the recollections of last night swimming around in your mind, the idea of returning the favor sounded nothing short of perfect. Time to give her a reason to wake up.
Essentially rolling yourself on top of her to lay on her chest, you kissed her neck softly and whispered into her ear, "G'morning." She grunted, mildly annoyed with the disturbance. You assured her that this wake up call would be worth her while, and despite her eyes staying closed, her eyebrows raised in intrigue. "I'm just here to thank you for last night," your hands gently sliding under the hem of her shirt to hold her hips. The corners of her mouth turned up into a soft smile at your touch as you moved to gently suck on her neck, earning a small hum of appreciation.
Your right hand left her side to feel over her shorts which, to your surprise, were already slightly damp. "Needy this morning, are we?" you questioned, tone light. She shook her head lethargically.
"Nah..." she trailed off. "No need to give yourself so much credit," she shot back more coherently, smirking and opening one eye to look at you.
You clapped a hand to your chest over your heart, giving her the fakest pained look. "Ouch, and to think I was about to take care of you," voice full of sarcasm.
"And you still can..."
Your eyes narrowed teasingly. "But will I?"
"I took care of you last night!" she whined.
"Riiight, you mean leaving me sore today."
"Your body doesn't want you to forget about it." She's not wrong.
"Whatever you say," poking your tongue out at her.
You glanced down to look at her pleading face before diving back into what you had set out to do. Between her present whininess and last night's demands, the duality was truly remarkable.
Needless to say, you definitely filled her morning with memories she wouldn't soon forget. Full of careful touches in the right places that begged for more, pulling from her all the sounds you loved to hear - including your name, all basked in the soft sunlight filtering through the blinds.
It was almost too easy - Hyejin simply needed to be taken care of.
unspecified member x reader, angst but not heavy, ~600 words, song was listened to 9 times (approx 26 minutes)
âł byulsgrease.mp3 - an exercise in challenging my internalized perfectionism by testing my ability to loop a song and write something before I'm absolutely sick of it
You roll over in bed, absentmindedly slapping your palm at the surface of the covers beside your body, hoping that youâll hit something, or someone. Wishful thinking. Doesnât stop you from trying every time, though.
Itâs like this every time she sleeps over, whether itâs because she got too drunk and your apartment is close to the club she frequents, because she canât sleep and claims to need a living, breathing being to help her feel less alone, or whatever astronomical excuse she can think of to come over. Youâve got to give her credit, some of them have been rather creative.
Youâre not really sure what to call the arrangement. Maybe if you werenât living the bachelor life, youâd have a sofa that she could crash on. Youâd make her sleep on the floor if you owned more than one set of bedsheets. But none of these things are in your possession, so she ends up sharing your bed. Maybe you should ask her to buy herself a sleeping bag, at least.
Maybe the handholding and cuddling was supposed to be a one-time thing, particularly because the first time she asked to stay over was because she had partied too hard and was beyond gone. The feat of showing up at your door at all was some kind of marvel. You gave her water and a place to sleep, and she was gone before you woke up. This happened a couple more times, but it was an interesting turn of events when she called you up completely sober at 2am, asking if she could come over. Again, you let her. Not like you had anything better to do.
Last night was different.
âAre you asleep?â you whispered inquisitively. A guttural noise escaped her. So, barely. Your back lay pressed to her chest with her arm lazily draped over your front to keep you close. Not that the bed was of the size for either of you to go very far. Your ears grew warm when you asked rather meeklyâ âWhy do you keep coming here?â
âDo you want me gone?â A fair amount more awake now.
âNo, no,â you shot back. âIâm just wondering. Youâre always welcome here, but Iâm gonna need a little more explanation than the random âI canât sleepâ.â
âDonât pretend that you donât like it,â she said with an air of playfulness, squeezing you ever-so-slightly tighter.
âYouâre swerving the question.â
She let out a sigh, warm breath whistling past your ear.
âWe can talk about it in the morning, okay? You should get to sleep. Should be faster now that Iâm here, anyway.â You couldnât argue with that, especially the LED numbers on your alarm clock counting up to your impending morning alarm shining through the darkness.
As per usual, you donât remember falling asleep. Nor do you remember her leaving. You never do. You tell yourself every time that youâll catch her on the way out one of these days, but she somehow leaves you waking up in an empty bed.
A couple months of radio silence passes. Youâre not sure if it was the way that you asked, or what. It wasnât even an unreasonable question to ask. But she left you with no closure anyway. Itâs not like she was a main character in your life, or that you were particularly close, so you donât miss her much, at least not viscerally. But youâll forever be left wondering if you were naive for assuming that it would always be this way, that sheâd keep coming back.
Until your phone goes offâ you know itâs her because you customized the vibration pattern after the second time.
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