#FULLY CLOTHED TALKING SOFTLY IN THE SHOWER

[jjscrybaby]

hi! can you one with rafe where his girl as asthma — maybe she’s had shortness of breath throughout the day and he can tell she’s not doing ok. or like at night, he wakes up without her and she’s needing steam from the faucet or shower to help her with her attack?

just an idea! i just love when he takes care of his girl xx

rafe cameron x fem!reader | hurt & comfort | (asthma attack, cutie pie rafe, rafe being an amazing bf.)

thankyou for the req angel, hope you enjoy this! i don’t have asthma, so i did as much research as i could for this to be accurate so if it isn’t i very much apologise!

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

Rafe’s eyes blinked open, a soft groan leaving his mouth as he looked over to the window. It was still dark out, he definitely didn’t need to be awake yet. He closed his eyes again, turning over to throw his arm around your waist; his hand landed on an empty bed.

He opened his eyes in confusion, sitting up tiredly to look around the room. It was empty, no one there but him, but the bedroom door was ajar. He groaned again, forcing himself to his feet to go and find you.

The sound of the shower running caught his attention, he quickened his pace as he opened the door to the guest bathroom and stepped inside. You were sat against the bathtub, still clothed, taking sharp, croaky breaths. Steam filled the room, and he instantly knew what was going on.

“Hey, baby,” he cooed, kneeling down beside you. You let out another breath, it sounded painful. “Why haven’t you used your inhaler?”

“Can’t find it,” you croak out, he has to fight the urge to tell you off.

“Okay, baby. I know where the spare is, wait here one second, okay?” He murmured, running a hand through your hair as he stood back up and left the room.

He kept two spares, one in his bedside table and the other in his truck for when the two of you were out. He rushed to the bedroom and pulled open the drawer, grabbing it before making his way back to you. You’re now holding your chest, letting out wheezes and dry coughs.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he urged as he shook the inhaler and then pushed it past your lips. He pressed down on it and you inhaled the medicine slowly. “Good girl,” he praised softly as you breathed it in.

Your breathing slowly went back to normal, your chest loosening and your head starting to feel less dizzy. You leant against his chest, his hand rubbing up and down your back. You’d felt off all day, breathing had been difficult but not difficult enough for you to mention anything to Rafe.

“Why didn’t you wake me, huh?” He asked, reaching over you to switch the shower off. “Hate the thought of you strugglin’ in here by yourself.”

You looked down at your hands, nibbling on your bottom lip. “Didn’t want you to be mad that I lost my inhaler.”

“Silly girl,” he murmured, kissing your temple. He stood up and helped you to your feet, arm wrapping around your waist to lead you back to bed. “We’re gonna get a designated spot, yeah? You need that shit, y’know that.”

“I know,” you pouted, leaning your body weight on him.

He hummed, laying you down in bed before crawling in beside you. His arm wrapped tightly around your waist, tugging you backwards so you were fully in his arms.

“Next time, you tell me. What kinda boyfriend am I if you’re doin’ this shit alone?” He reprimanded, leaving open kisses to your cheek to soften the blow of his telling off.

“Promise,” you nodded, holding onto his hand that was wrapped around you.

“Get some sleep, baby. Know you must be tired out,” he urged.

He stayed awake until he was sure you were asleep, and he made a mental note to come up with a plan so you’d stop losing your damn inhaler. He just couldn’t bring himself to properly tell you off, not when it means he gets to take care of you.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

bonus i came up with when finding the header pics (i don’t want to talk about how long it took me to make, someone lmk what app they use for fake messages pls)

[retroaria]

Hello! I'm not sure if you write for Karasu from Blue lock but if do you can I request first time hcs for him? If you don't write for him, Sae works too :D

✶ first time!

itoshi sae + karasu tabito x fem!reader

a/n: i definitely wanna do these for all the other guys after my event ends!

˗ˏˋ written for aria’s 1.5k follower event! ˎˊ˗

➜ itoshi sae

when you and sae first started dating he was quick to try and initiate sex, feeling a bit confused if you were to tell him you wanted to wait.

once you are ready to have sex with him he plays it off like it’s no big deal but he secretly is fighting back his own excitement.

it shows in his eagerness to have you undressed beneath him. he takes your clothes off like a savage and immediately aims to mark you up, kissing and nibbling at your skin as his hands graze your body up and down squeezing and gripping at certain areas. sae is the kind of guy who gets off on the feeling of soft clean skin, so he takes his time appreciating your entire body.

normally he’d be more rough, but for your first time he decides to be a bit more gentle with everything. instead of eating you out like a madman he laps at your clit with a leisurely pace and curls his fingers into you slow but still striking.

he’d fuck you in standard missionary so he can moan softly in your ear and have you moaning in his. also likes to nibble at your neck and jaw.

his pace is at a comfy medium. he just doesn’t have it in him to make his thrusts slow and steady, but he enjoys slowing down a bit if only for the ability to make each thrust hit hard against your sweet spot to ensure your nails keep digging into his shoulders and biceps the entire time (his favorite fucking thing omg).

pull out > condom, unless you ask him to wear one which he would be fine with but he prefers not to. keeps his cock snug between your walls for as long as he possibly can. when sae’s close to orgasm he fully nuzzles his face in your neck and wraps his arms underneath you to pull you impossibly closer. he isn’t a loud moaner but his soft low groans are like audible porn.

sae’s aftercare doesn’t feel like he put in a lot of effort but it’s still good bc he basically just has you do all the stuff he would want to do himself after sex. shower, water, snuggle up.

➜ karasu tabito

he’d be so patient if you wanted to wait for the relationship to get more serious! he’s a player for sure but when he’s locked in he’s locked in.

he would want to make it a romantic and intimate experience for you, but he wouldn’t go all out. he’d take you on a beautiful date before hand and he’d run a nice bath for you after, sweet but not too sweet.

loves foreplay omg don’t get me started.

i headcanon him as a beast in the sheets but on the low he loves slow sensual sex. wants to kiss and lick your entire body, have his face smothered between your legs for as long as possible, rubs his cock between your folds so long he almost cums right then and there before stopping himself. loves the way you whimper for him as his tip glides back and forth against your sensitive clit.

he’s got a cheeky smirk on his face the entire time, even while his eyes flutter shut as he slides his cock between your warm wet walls for the first time.

this might be an odd opportunity but i feel like for your first few times with him he’d really amp up the dirty talk and probably drop it later into the relationship unless you happen to really like it lol. he’d drop himself down so he can speak directly in your ear, telling you how good you’re taking him and how incredible you feel wrapped around his cock between his low groans and thrusts.

look at me trying out new themes!! :D

mdni divider creds: @adornedwithlight so cute :3

[girlfromflor]

alpha!kyle has been a current thought in my head, so i wrote about him coming back home after a long mission.

it's his fourth day home since his last mission ended.

kyle has you tucked close to him, under the covers inside the big nest you made for yourselves. he still smells a bit like tiredness, the exhaustion from the battlefield clinging to his muscles but it's almost imperceptible now.

your sweet, honey-like scent mingles with his and into the fabric enveloping you. there's a low, constant purr rumbling in your chest, scratching an itch on kyle’s mind that he waited so long to get rid of.

he's home. safe and sound with his omega so close to him, happy and purring at his presence. the notion makes his own chest vibrate with a purr as an answer, the growl of it making clear how his alpha scrapes the edges of his consciousness.

it's probably early in the morning, kyle doesn't look for his watch nor his phone, instead just basking in the dim, morning light seeping through the window – which is opened only a bit, the cold wind from outside making the fabric of the curtain swing ever so slightly.

despite the breeze, he's warm where he lays with you. the heavy weight of faux fur fabric working well on keeping your naked bodies' warmth secured inside the blanket fort you call a nest. you've been naked ever since he came home – his clothes smelling like blood and gunpowder, alpha stressed and tired, growling grumpily at the thought of fabrics keeping your skins from touching each other.

you haven't fucked nor have you indulged in any type of sexual activity, it didn't felt quite right yet. instead he just stripped off his clothes, dragging you around the house so you both can, in this very order: get cleaned up in a quick shower, eat something light and settle on the big nest you have in the corner of the living room, napping on the cushions that cover the floor inside it.

he knows you're awake and you're aware he's too, but none of you say a word. it's peaceful like this. the calm, quiet atmosphere working the remaining of his stress away, giving you time to fully push away the sleepy haze that has been pulling at you, until you move from his arms to stare up at his beautiful face.

his eyes are closed, eyelids shut very lightly. his lips pressed to one another, but they part as soon as he takes in your shifting scent – which is reacting to his relaxed, laid back expression –, nose twitching to take it in better. he grumbles, one hand brushing down your side to hold your hip as the other runs its fingers to your hair.

his eyes are sharp and lidded when he opens them to stare at you, making a shiver run down your spine. you've never been so close to having him bared to his soul in front of you, alpha so present it makes his scent almost fresh out of the woods. it brings your omega from where she was resting far inside your mind, her claws scratching softly around your head, urging you to sleep so she can step in.

it's been like this for four days. it's always rough for him, coming down from mission-mode, but this time kyle's inner alpha seems ready to fight for control, begging for your omega to comfort him at all costs. you both allowed it to happen the first day – and the second –, having to hold back on it by the morning of the third day. you couldn’t risk going feral together, not without someone to watch over you two.

kyle seems to read your mind, your bond doing most of the talking as you bask in the silence, the room quiet except for the – now almost inaudible – purr coming from deep within your chests. his voice is low and hoarse when he speaks, a groan following as he cleans his throat and tries again.

"could ask john to come over, honey..." he mumbles on his thick accent, holding you while he watches your reaction. "he could watch us next time, mhm? he's a good alpha, he'd take care of us..."

"mhm..." your hum of agreement is barely an answer, the grunt coming from him making it clear that he wants you to elaborate. "if you trust him, than it's fine by me, love."

kyle hums then, pleased with your answer. his adorable omega, relying on him whilst taking care of his once exhausted body, helping him work through the tiredness and out of the alert mode he had to depend on so much over the last few weeks – giving him enough support so he could recover from weeks of soldier-like routine on a hostile environment in only a couple of days.

he truly does love you a lot and maybe it's time he shows it to you, rewarding you for been so good to him.

a/n: part of I'LL CALL THE MOON: COLLECTION (coming soon)

[hannieween]

kiss and tell | wicked games series

Mingyu was hurting, that was the thing. But he missed the way you looked at him, like he was worth sticking around for. Even if he couldn’t see that in himself back then.

☾ pairings: jeon wonwoo x female reader ☾ genre: angst, fluff, smut (18+) ☾ aus: bartender wonwoo, bartender mingyu, messy love triangle, friends with benefits ☾ word count: 14k

› PREVIOUS CHAPTERS – READ MORE

🎧: excuses – twlv | kiss&tell – ethan low and gen neo | amigos – bibi and becky g | blame – i.m | screen time – epik high ft. hoshi | good sport – hyejin

☾ warnings: smut with plot, hurt/comfort, hard dom wonwoo, brat reader, use of sex toys, masturbation, fingering, squirting, creampie, bdsm: light choking, manhandling, crymaxing, dirty talk, cussing, unprotected p in v sex, after care. reader is chubby. pet names: ma'am, baby (hers)

☾ author's note: helloooooo!! we're back with another chapter and oh my god!! last chapter you guys were amazing with the feedback. y'all really know how to make a girl feel special 🥺 anyways, enjoy this chapter!! love yous

☾ author's note pt2: the sex scene for this chapter is looooooooooooong. like wonu's c—[GUNSHOTS]

no but fr the sex scene is like 5k words 🧍🏻‍♀️ enjoy! ksksks

☾ disclaimer: minors DO NOT INTERACT. this post is intended for 18+ readers ONLY. please have your age stated in your blog description and do not to look like a bot 🙂

kiss and tell

Jeon Wonwoo woke up with a start.

He opened his eyes to an apartment that for one second he didn’t recognize. Everything looked different now that the sunlight was pouring from the windows.

He rolled over to reach out for his glasses on your nightstand, letting out a small sigh as the first movements of the morning got him feeling a little bit more awake.

A small jolt of his heart gave him the impulse to sit up. You were nowhere to be seen. But as he focused his senses, he heard the faint noise coming from the shower.

Wonwoo sighed, leaning back on the headboard of your bed. Then, everything came crashing down on him—the memories from last night, what he did. What you and he did together.

If last night had been a random booty call, then now it would be a perfect opportunity for him to grab his shit and walk out of your apartment.

But no, last night was different. No matter how he’d slice it, it was something he couldn’t walk away from. And he didn’t want to.

He looked at the ceiling, thinking of how to approach this situation as though he were organizing the pieces of a very complex puzzle. First, he’d have to talk to you, and then, he’d have to tell Mingyu what happened.

His heart deflated upon that last thought.

Wonwoo would’ve never imagined he’d be in this situation. Sure, he made the very conscious decision to kiss you, and then sleep with you. But everything that happened before that was something he never planned for.

And last night… he got to know how far his impulses could go if he lets his guard down. If he allows to act on his feelings.

He blinked slowly, releasing a long sigh through his nose.

The noise coming from the bathroom ceased. Wonwoo rose from your bed and slowly started gathering his clothes, putting them on one by one almost robotically. He stood before your bed, fully dressed now, thinking.

The bathroom door clicked softly, and then the steam and the smell of your shampoo quickly filled the air of your studio apartment.

The smell made his guts twist. Sweet, citrusy, and addictive. It instantly flashed a memory in his mind of him sinking his nose in your hair while he was buried deep inside your body.

Fuck. This isn’t good, he thought.

Some seconds later, you emerged from the bathroom wrapped up in a bathrobe, your humid hair resting on your shoulder as you dried the ends with a towel.

Wonwoo watched your expression intently, looking for any signs of regret. He took a deep breath, mustering some courage in case you decided to ask him to leave.

But you smiled softly at him. Your eyes were devoid of any emotion, making him think that you probably didn’t rest well.

“Hi,” you sighed, the corners of your eyes lifting slightly.

“Morning,” he replied, then realized how gruff his voice sounded and cleared it awkwardly before adding, “Did you sleep well?”

You were padding slowly towards him until you stood a few steps away. Your heart was racing, and your entire body was rigid with the fear of the unexpected. “I uh, yeah. I slept alright,” you replied, your tone sounding off. “You?”

Wonwoo nodded dryly.

You exchanged a long look. One that was guarded by both the inability to start having the talk and the urge to just keep going. To push it down.

You motioned to the kitchen. “Do-do you—” you stammered, pausing to take a breath. “Do you want some coffee?”

Wonwoo picked up every detail that you tried to hide—how your fingers twisted and twirled your wet hair, but they still trembled in doing so, or the nervous way you swallowed, trying to slow down your breathing.

He knew what you were feeling—and it wasn’t hard to guess because he was also feeling it too. The nervous fluttering inside, one that spread all over your body and tingled beneath your skin.

“Sure,” he muttered, giving you a tiny nod.

You turned to the kitchen before you let the moment linger for too long. You felt like the more you stood around, the more he got to notice just how nervous you actually were.

You vaguely remembered how it was when Mingyu stayed the night for the first time. How it had felt too natural to have him in your space.

You chewed on your lower lip as you poured water into the coffee machine and turned the button on. Discarding those memories, concluding that it would probably feel natural for Wonwoo to be there if he weren’t Mingyu’s best friend.

You liked Wonwoo. And given the turn of events of last night, you wanted him more than you had originally imagined.

But it still felt wrong.

The air between you had permanently changed. It made your chest ache, the feeling so tight you couldn’t get rid of it as you sighed deeply.

Wonwoo watched you from where he stood at the foot of the kitchen. He wanted to get closer to you, to drive your gaze towards his. But your focus was zeroed on the coffee dripping slowly into the pot, trying to hide your face from his scrutiny.

But he had to break the silence. With a rapid heartbeat, he asked: “Are we going to talk about it?”

His voice was gruff, heavy with emotion. The sound of his nervousness made your senses awake, as though your own nervousness had been trying to bury you by force.

You turned around, finding him leaning against the kitchen counter. God, he was glorious, in all his dishevelled form. His hair was messy from the night before, and despite being well-rested, he looked slightly tired. Sleepy.

You didn’t pretend not to know what he meant. There was no going around the subject. You met his eyes, finding the seriousness there that made your stomach flip.

“Yeah. I think we should,” you replied, your tone low. “I’m sorry. About last night.”

Wonwoo’s gaze snapped to yours, reading your face swiftly. Like your words had hit him somewhere tender. “Don’t,” he mumbled. “Don’t apologize.”

Part of you wondered why you always resorted to apologizing—or why you felt like Wonwoo needed you to say sorry. You didn’t want to give him the feeling that you regretted what happened. Because you didn’t.

“Listen. Last night wasn’t planned,” he said gently. “And I don’t expect you to know what to do with it. I don’t even know what to do with it.”

You exhaled, feeling that ache return to your chest. “It wasn’t just what happened last night. It’s everything leading up to it,” you said, wishing you could muster some strength to hold his gaze. But eventually you dropped it to the floor. “I’m still figuring out the things that hurt me.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “I know,” he said softly. “And I won’t push you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

You looked up, finding his gaze. “I don’t know if I’m ready… for you,” you whispered.

Wonwoo took a step towards you, but he didn’t reach out to touch you. Not yet. “You don’t have to be,” he replied in kind.

Your heart twisted, as though it knew you were making a mistake and just kept digging your grave. “But last night…”

“I know,” he nodded softly. His eyes outlined the features of your face, taking in every detail. “I don’t regret it.”

The way that he was looking at you made your heart ease. There was no pressure, no desperation for you to give in. Only patience.

“What if I mess it up?” you whispered.

Wonwoo shrugged lightly. “Then we mess it up,” he replied, smiling faintly. “But at least we can say that we tried.”

You tried to pay attention to what your heart felt, beating fast, painfully loud. “I don’t want to hurt you, Wonwoo,” you whispered. You bit your lower lip, trying to stop it from quivering.

“Then don’t,” he said gently. “Pull the breaks when you need it,” he smiled, shrugging. “But don’t hold yourself back either.”

Silence fell again, and then you knew why your heart was so stressed. “What about Mingyu?”

His lips parted slightly. There was an answer ready because he didn’t skip a second. “Don’t worry about him,” he said. “Let me worry about him for now.”

You dropped your gaze again, eyes brimming with tears. You missed Mingyu. That was a fact that was still real as everything you felt last night. All the despair, the raw emotion. You were angry at him for breaking your heart, but at the same time, you didn’t know how he’d take this.

But he used you. He broke you and walked away, a dark part of you raged.  

“Hey,” Wonwoo whispered, his hand finally finding yours. His fingers slipped onto your palm, pressing it gently.

You raised your eyes, releasing your tears. You sniffled, the sound making you laugh embarrassedly.

Wonwoo showed you a smile, one that made the nose of his bridge wrinkle. He took another step towards you, his knee brushing against yours. “We don’t have to be anything yet. We can go as slow as you need,” he muttered softly, while his thumb brushed the back of your hand. “I’m not in a rush.”

The words rung with a strange familiarity. As they sank in your mind, they rhymed with a distant memory, one that you weren’t ready to revisit yet.

You turned your hand over slightly, finding his fingers to lace them with yours. The gesture was so tiny, yet so gentle that it had your heart melting.

You found his gaze again, giving him a cautious smile. The way his hair looked made your tummy twist, and you subconsciously reached out with your free hand to brush the messy strands of hair back into order.

“Do I look bad?” he asked softly, reading your face.

“Just like you fell out of bed,” you joked, letting out a short giggle.

Wonwoo smiled sheepishly. “Can I…” he motioned to the bathroom door.

“Of course,” you whispered, stepping back to let him go fix his form.

You turned to take out two cups from the cabinet. The coffee machine had stopped brewing, and it was now softly hissing when you took the jar and poured two cups of coffee, leaving out space for cream in case Wonwoo took his coffee with cream.

You don’t know anything about him, the thought invaded you. You don’t know how he takes his coffee. Or what he likes having for breakfast. The overwhelming need to know more about him came about you when you heard the door click softly.

Wonwoo came back, looking more like he did last night. His hair looked more put together and you realized that he had also cleaned his glasses.

“How do you take yours?” you asked, handing him his cup.

“Black is perfect,” he sighed softly, taking a sip. “Thanks,” he muttered with a pleased look.

You sipped slowly from your cup, watching him intently.

It wasn’t a requirement to know everything about a person to harbor feelings for them. You knew this. But why did you feel a responsibility to know more about him?

Wonwoo read your expression, finding the curiosity in it. There was something more, something that made your eyes look sweet, tender.

He lowered his cup to the counter reaching out to grab you by the waist. The feeling of his hand on top of your clothes awoke your entire body, creating a tingling sensation on your skin.

You lowered your cup too, straightening up as he came closer to you. “Come here,” he said, bringing you to a hug. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing your body to his frame.

He was tall enough to rest his cheek on your head, using his arms around you to rock you gently.

Being in his arms soothed your heart instantly. You didn’t need to know everything about Wonwoo, but you knew why the urge was created. You liked him. You liked being around him. It felt like the pieces of your heart weren’t struggling to mend themselves back together. It felt easier to breathe.

You pressed the side of your face on his chest, sighing out the soreness in your chest. You wanted to cry—but it felt different from last night. It felt as though you had been trying to keep your emotions in a box, but have been fighting against the lid to keep it closed. And now, being safe in Wonwoo’s embrace, you were finally free to feel those emotions.

You sniffled softly against his chest, turning your face to snuggle against his warmth.

Wonwoo heard you. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Cry it out. I’m here for you.”

Hot tears started to spill from your eyes, making you squeeze them shut. The words, I’m sorry formed in your lips, but you were unable to bring them out.

But Wonwoo repeated, “It’s okay,” without knowing that you were about to apologize from crying. It was like he knew.

He didn’t know how you liked your coffee either. But somehow, he knew you.

You let out a sad laugh. “I’m a mess,” you said, your tone made weak by the tears that kept on coming.

Wonwoo pulled back, his hands finding your face, cupping your cheeks. He leaned his head to look into your eyes. “We’re a mess,” he corrected. “But I’m not running away. And I’m not going to push you into anything,” he held your gaze, his softening by the sight of your teary eyes. Then slowly, he uttered the next words: “I want you.”

You raised one hand, pressing your palm to the back of one of his hands and leaning your face against it. You closed your eyes, letting more tears go.

You wanted him too. Deep down, you knew it. But the fears and the heartache made it impossible for you to admit it aloud, even if you gave yourself to him the night before. It was obvious, and you wondered if Wonwoo’s ability to study you had already found that out.

Something told you that he already knew you wanted him too.

A warm feeling settled in your chest. “I’ll try not to freak out,” you whispered, opening your eyes to find him.

He pursed his lips cutely. “I’ll try not to give you reasons to.”

Then he bent over, lips pressing against your forehead. He kissed it slowly, then moved his face to yours.

You held your breath when the tip of his nose bumped onto yours. Then he hesitated, pausing so close to you that you felt the gentle caress of his breath.

You gave in.

Joining your lips with his felt too natural. The pull you felt towards him was so great that you forgot about the worries that clouded your mind. So you kissed him. You kissed him deeply, like you had nothing to fear.

A tiny gasp broke from your chest as you moved your lips with his seamlessly. His hands still cupped your face, only moving you to tilt your head back for him, angling you perfectly for more of his kisses.

He broke the kiss, only to move his lips to one of your cheeks. You let out a short giggle, feeling his lips on your other cheek, realizing that he was kissing your tears.

He pressed his forehead against yours, sighing out in something that felt to you like relief. You tasted the coffee on his lips, mixed with the saltiness from your tears when he pressed his lips against yours one more time.

Wonwoo felt something unexplainable for you. He saw the girl that had been hurt ten times over and still had love to give. He saw the softness in you, the loving nature in you that you were now trying to protect. And he wanted to protect it too.

“I have to go,” he whispered, but he didn’t back away.

“Okay,” you whispered back, afraid to let go and open your eyes.

“If you need me, I’ll be a call away,” he promised.

You nodded shortly, not trusting yourself to speak up.

Wonwoo stopped cupping your face, taking a step back. Reluctantly, he grabbed his jacket, and his phone, turning to the door. As he turned the handle, he looked back at you.

You took two steps to him, grabbing his face to press a goodbye kiss on his lips. He kissed you back instantly, sighing out a smile.

“Text me when you get home?” you mumbled meekly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled, kissing you one more time before he stepped out of your apartment.

And as you went back to your silence, you didn’t feel the need to guard yourself against it. It wasn’t the kind of silence that made you sink into it. You were for once, staying afloat.

Mingyu leaned his forearms against the sink, staring into the empty tub of ice. The emptiness inside it, paired with the bustling noise from the kitchen pulled him into his thoughts, making him drift away and somewhere else.

He remembered the echoes of your laughs back in your apartment. The way your eyes brimmed up with years and your voice cracked when you confessed something close to you. And how he said he wouldn’t walk away from you.

He remembered the moment he left you back at the basketball court. The way you sat at the bleachers, crying in heartache.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, sighing into his palm.

“What’s up Mings? You okay?” Wonwoo asked, appearing beside him with a crate full of beers, which he settled on the floor gently.

Mingyu nodded without looking up. “Yeah,” he croaked, resuming to clear out the bar off the clean glasses, putting them where they belonged.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t press. He then turned away, disappearing into the hall to get another crate of beers.

Mingyu gnawed on his bottom lip, losing himself to another memory, torturing himself. This memory was a sweet one. One where he made love to you, holding your hand, telling you to breathe with him. He remembered the look on your eyes, his heart stammering painfully now.

Wonwoo came back, kicking the door open. The look on Mingyu’s face must’ve been telling what he was feeling inside, because Wonwoo just sighed, exasperated. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Mingyu finally broke, shaking his head swiftly. “It’s been over a month,” he said, raising his eyebrows a little.

Wonwoo panned to him. “Since?”

Mingyu’s jaw tightened. “Since I last saw her.”

Wonwoo’s gaze sharpened slightly, parting his mouth to say something.

But Mingyu continued, finally raising his gaze to meet Wonwoo. “Do you think she hates me?”

Wonwoo pressed his lips together in an awkward expression. “Why are you asking me?”

Mingyu let out a short laugh. “Right, what am I even saying?” he sighed, setting down the last piece of glassware on the rack.

Wonwoo kept quiet, bending down to put one of the crates on the counter and keeping an eye on Mingyu.

“I’ve been thinking about texting her, calling her,” Mingyu confessed, starting to get the beers out of the crate one by one. He pressed his lips into a tight line for a second before adding. “I almost did a dozen times.”

“Why haven’t you?” the question came out of Wonwoo with a flat tone.

Mingyu sighed. “Because I don’t know if I even deserve to,” he muttered. “I panicked, I really did. And I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

Wonwoo set the second crate down on the counter with more force than necessary. “Then why did you do it? Why did you leave?”

Mingyu turned his head, confused by the shift in tone.

“I mean, really,” Wonwoo continued, directing Mingyu a hard gaze. “You said you weren’t all in. You told me that you felt like you were going to mess it up. So what is it now?”

“Well, you said it—I messed up,” Mingyu said bitterly. “I was scared that I would end up hurting her because I’m not fully healed but, I realize now that I could’ve worked through it. I could’ve done more.”

“Done more?” Wonwoo narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean done more?”

Mingyu nodded slowly. “Maybe if I had made the effort to be with her, maybe I could’ve told her to give me a chance while I fix my shitty life—instead of breaking up with her,” he lowered his gaze, adding with a softer tone: “And hurting her.”

Wonwoo remained impassive, letting the silence stretch between him and Mingyu. Waiting.

Mingyu ran a hand through his hair. “Now I don’t even know if she’d talk to me. Or if she should.”

“Maybe it’s not about what you want anymore,” Wonwoo said, quieter this time, his tone coated with something Mingyu couldn’t place.

Mingyu stilled, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You broke up with her,” Wonwoo added. “And whatever reason you had, whatever reason you gave her for walking away, it better still hold up if you’re thinking about looking for her again.”

Mingyu didn’t reply, but he couldn’t hide the hurt showing on his face.

Wonwoo watched him for a second longer, letting the message sink. Then he turned, opening the fridge to start restocking it methodically. He didn’t offer Mingyu advice, nor nudge him toward texting you. And he wouldn’t.

Mingyu didn’t dwell on his best friend’s blunt reply. He picked up a glass, staring at the reflection in it.

“You didn’t come home last night.”

Wonwoo sighed softly, letting the remorse twist inside him. “I’m aware.”

Mingyu was used to Wonwoo’s expressionless manner. But this was different, guarded.

“What happened?” he pressed, not looking at him.

“Something came up,” Wonwoo said, realizing that it was the same thing he texted Mingyu the night before. He added, “A friend had some issues. Needed a hand with something, so I helped.”

“A friend?” Mingyu’s brow furrowed, now turning over his shoulder to look at Wonwoo.

But he remained impassive, putting one bottle after another inside the fridge. “Yeah.”

“You have other friends?” Mingyu joked, laughing lightly. But then his ears perked, his eyelids fluttering dumbly. “Oh,” he uttered, then another joyful giggle bubbled up. “Oh—is this…? Are you—are you seeing someone?”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “I’m not telling you anything.”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Mingyu said, dragging his words in a tone that Wonwoo found jarring.

“A gentleman doesn’t share his secrets,” he said, letting himself smile a little.

“A gentleman? You?” Mingyu snickered, letting out a high-pitched wail that resonated across the empty bar. “So that means it is a woman you went off to see! Ah, you have to tell me everything.”

Wonwoo peeked from the door of the fridge, shaking his head. “I won’t tell you anything. Not until you finished setting up.”

Mingyu groaned loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty bar. “You’re all work no fun, hyung.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wonwoo muttered dismissively.

Wonwoo closed the door of the fridge, walking away to get another crate while Mingyu remained behind the bar. He stared at the shelves of liquor, thinking that he’d have to get up there soon and clean them.

Something felt off about Wonwoo. To Mingyu, there was something more than a casual display of seriousness. Wonwoo was usually livelier than his observant manner. Something was off, his gut instinct said. Not that Wonwoo was coming off as cold, nor aggressive. Just careful, and quiet.

Mingyu picked up a rag, wiping down the counter with slow, methodical motions. His thoughts kept circling back to you, just like always. How your voice used to soften when he called you in the middle of the night. How you would wait for him to clock off so you could walk home together, even if it was way past midnight.

He didn’t deserve to miss that. But he did.

Mingyu exhaled softly, checking his phone again. Mechanically, he opened your chat, his fingertip tapping on your profile photo. His gut twisted.

You had changed your profile photo.

It now displayed a very different photo. From the photo where you were standing with a cute smile, a colorful mural behind you, now you showed one with a bleak background of the river. The features of your face looked soft still, but there was a coldness in your eyes.

Your smile was gone. And now all Mingyu saw was the raw, cold emotion in your eyes.

You were beautiful, you always were.

But Mingyu couldn’t help but feel that the image where you were smiling was stolen from him. For days and nights, all he had was your pretty smile to look at.  

Now that was over too.

Wonwoo returned to the bar, slipping behind the counter and putting down the crate of beers. He pulled open a drawer, busying himself with receipts and notes. Wonwoo darted a glance back at Mingyu from the corner of his eye.

“So you think it’s a good idea that I leave her alone?” Mingyu asked anxiously.

Wonwoo didn’t look up. “I think that’s not my call.”

“But if it was?” Mingyu chewed on his bottom lip.

That made Wonwoo pause. He put the receipts back on the drawer and turned to meet Mingyu’s gaze. “I think that if you’re going to reach out, be sure that it’s not because you’re hurting—” he said, then cut himself off, shaking his head like he was dismissing a painful remark. “I think that with all you’ve done already, she deserves a real apology.”

“I am going to apologize,” Mingyu said, taken aback. His shoulders slacked. “Hyung, you don’t understand—” he swallowed hard, composing himself. “I want her back.”

Wonwoo’s lips parted, his eyes widening slightly.

But Mingyu didn’t see the change in his best friend’s expression. He pressed his lips into a thin line. “I don’t want to hurt her ever again,” he mumbled, looking down at the lacquered counter.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to one side. “Then don’t.”

It sounded simple.

But that was the thing. Mingyu was hurting. But he wanted you and missed you for you—not just because of the comfort you gave. He missed the way he felt when he was around you, simply existing. Mingyu missed the way you looked at him like he was worth sticking around for.

Even if he couldn’t see that in himself back then.

Sometimes, he thought of his ex—Gigi. Of how even months after breaking up, she still tried to contact him. His guts twisted one more time. Maybe, just maybe, you’ve already healed in all this time he hasn’t contacted you. Maybe he’s just messing things up more.

And that wasn’t fair for you.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Mingyu sighed, reconsidering again. “What am I even doing?” he muttered, more to himself than to Wonwoo.

Wonwoo sighed heavily. “Look, do what you have to do,” he said, his tone hardening slightly with annoyance. “But please, can you get to work? I’m drowning here and we only have twenty minutes till we open up.”  

Mingyu straightened, laughing awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head to keep you away from his thoughts.

For now.

“You didn’t have to fuck him though,” Mona said, looking at you with a concerned look on her face.

You laughed out loud, letting the red wine fuel your whole body. Your cheeks were flushed with the effects of your third glass of wine.

“I mean—” Mona started, but got caught off. She laughed, finally infected with the sound of your giggles. “—what is it with you and toxic guys? Do you have a magnet for them? Where do I get one?”

You continued laughing, head tilted back. It had been a while since you’ve had a night like this.

You were sitting in a half-empty bar, tucked between two other very loud bars. The place was cozy—totally the opposite to what The Spot was. This was bright, colorful, full of earthy tones and fairy lights that coiled around the warm lights overhead.

Mona watched your smile, and you swore you saw a tint of warmth there. “I’m glad you’re better,” she said, then blinked a couple of times. “Well, not better-better, but like—” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’m glad you’re not with that asshole anymore. He was truly sucking the life out of you.”

You sighed “I’m trying,” you said softly. “There are some bad days, and some good ones.”

“And today?” she asked, giving you an exaggerated inquisitive look.

You took a sip of wine, feeling pensive. “Today I’m good. Not perfect. But okay.”

Mona reached across the small table to squeeze your hand. “I’m really proud of you.”

You talked about everything and nothing for another hour. About work. Her new co-worker she thought was cute. About the graphic design course you were taking. About the new guy at the gym she was pretending not to notice. Everything and nothing.

And when it was time to step out of the bar, the air had cooled, but your laughter was still warm in your chest. The taste of wine lingering on your tongue.

“God,” Mona exhaled, fixing her jacket. “I’ve missed this.”

You smiled at her. “I’m sorry about dodging your calls.”

She clicked her tongue, using a hand to push your shoulder. “The next time I’ll just come get you out of your apartment. Bust you out of any prison you’ve made for yourself if that’s what’s needed.”

You snickered at the exaggerated roll of her eyes she gave you. “Okay, mom.”

She continued. “I should probably start charging you a therapist fee.” 

“Fair,” you said, the smile not wiping off your face.

“No but seriously. You look better. A little tired, but better.”

“I’ve been okay,” you reassured her for the tenth time. You shrugged. “Some days I wake up feeling okay. Other days it’s like I’m drowning.”

Mona nodded quietly. “Yeah. That’s grief for you. And yes, you’re allowed to grieve what you had with Jay—it wasn’t just a simple relationship. You guys were together for ages.”

You pressed your lips into a tight line. “It’s not just him, you know?” you murmured. “It’s everything I thought I was done with. Jay, the breakup, moving to a different part of the city. And then with Mingyu… it’s like he brought it all back.”

Mona bumped her shoulder against yours. “And do you feel safer with the new guy?” she paused. “With Wonwoo?”

You blinked and dropped your gaze to the ground.

It had been three nights since you slept with Jeon Wonwoo. And so far, you had only exchanged a few texts—nothing too personal, nor too serious. But you felt at ease whenever he texted goodnight, or whenever he told you he was doing okay.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, the knot in your throat tightening more. “I’m afraid to let myself care again. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“And if you do, you’ll fix it,” she shrugged, crossing her arms as she walked beside you. “You always do.”

Eventually, you both stopped when you knew your paths diverted into different routes. “Okay,” Mona sighed. “Are you taking the bus?”

“I could use the walk,” you said, tightening your fist around the strap of your bag.

The streets were damp, but the night sky gave no evident warning that it would start to rain again soon.

Mona nodded. “I’ll see you then,” she said, turning around and motioning a hand goodbye. “You better be with the same guy by the next time I see you!”

You laughed out loud, but couldn’t think of anything to reply to her.

You turned around, deciding to take the long way home.

Something about walking helped you think. You were still warm from the red wine and the laughter shared with your best friend. But walking through the park—seeing young couples walking hand in hand, groups of girls laughing gave you perspective.

The cold air stung your cheeks, making your eyes water. You hugged yourself tightly, closing your denim jacket around you.

You were passing by the park when you heard your name, loud and clear. At first, you thought it wasn’t meant for you, so you kept walking. But how many people could have your name in this city?

Then again, this time louder.

You turned around, following the sound of the voice.

Your stomach immediately dropped. It was Jay.

He looked the same. Despite the buzz cut hair he sported and the change in fashion style, he was still your Jay. The same big dark eyes, the same smile that made his eyes turn into half-moons. He was dressed too well for someone who didn’t like to go out at night.

You stopped walking, feeling glad that you were already hugging your body because you felt like fainting.

Jay slowed to a stop in front of you, catching his breath with a crooked smile. “Wow,” he said, breathlessly. “It’s really you.”

You nodded, managing a polite smile. “Hi.”

There was a pause, one where you just stood in front of him while he practically gawked at you.

“I’ve been meaning to reach out,” he said, scratching a fake itch on his nape. “But you know, life,” he rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Right,” you replied, nodding stiffly.

He blinked, like he suddenly remembered something. “I’m getting married,” he blurted.

Your smile didn’t falter—and you were thankful for Mona again, and her wonderful way of predicting things. “I heard,” you said. “Congrats.”

He nodded, his gaze flitting across your face like he was searching for something. Sadness? Regret? “Her name is Lana,” he added. “She’s—she’s different. But she’s great.”

You nodded again, about to tell him that you didn’t want to know. “That’s good. I’m glad for you.”

But he didn’t skip a beat.

“It should’ve been you, though,” he said.

The words punched the air out of your lungs. You almost wanted to register if he’d said another thing and you mistook it for being tipsy.

“What?” you breathed, unable to muster a reaction.

Jay stepped closer, and you almost stepped back, but couldn't trust your body. “I mean, come on. We were great. You know we were. We just—we just weren’t ready.”

You stared at him, blinking and gaping at him like you’d misheard.

“Sometimes I wonder if we gave up too soon. Or if I did.”

Anger flared, quiet but sharp. It made you finally step back. “Listen to yourself—” you gasped. “You’re getting married, Jay.”

“I know,” he laughed nervously. “What a stupid thing to say, right?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You were starting to see red. Your chest felt hollow, and you almost wanted to yell at him for not letting you have a moment of peace.

But then he reached for your arm. “I’m sorry,” he said, and you could see the honesty in his eyes. “I just… Seeing you again brought so many memories back.”

You pulled your arm back. “Don’t.”

He blinked, almost confused at your reaction. “What?”

“Don’t tell me it should’ve been me when you already chose someone else,” you said, your voice shaking. “You’re forgetting that it was you who wasn’t ready. Not me.”

You didn’t wait for a response. You turned and walked with a quick pace. Running away from Jay aimlessly. You almost forgot your way back home, but you had to get distance from him.

You made it three blocks away from the park when your chest finally caved in. You reached into your bag, pulling out your phone. And before you could think, you pressed the call button.

You weren’t considering that he might be busy at work. You weren’t thinking at all.

It should’ve been you. The words kept echoing. Each time was more painful than the last.

And each echo also fueled your anger more.

His phone only rang once.

“Hello?”

You closed your eyes. Your voice was barely there. “Hey.”

“Are you okay?” his voice cut through.

The world spun around you, blurs of streetlights and passing strangers, when you opened your eyes again. You staggered towards the nearest bench, sitting down on it.

You bit your bottom lip, squeezing your eyes shut. “I saw him,” you blurted out.

“Who?” he asked, and then a second later he said: “Your ex?” Wonwoo asked quietly.

Mingyu sent him an inquisitive look, which Wonwoo dismissed by shaking his head.

Then it was the broken way you uttered the next words that made his whole world stop. “He told me it should’ve been me he’s marrying.”

“Shit,” he hissed, lowering his face so it wouldn’t raise more questions.

“I thought it was over, I really did,” you said, your voice shaking and cracking mid-sentence: “I was having such a good night. But then… god I just feel so stupid right now.”

“Don’t,” he replied, sounding firm and gentle at the same time. “You’re not.”

You remembered the look on Jay’s face, the way he practically ogled at you.

“Where are you right now?” Wonwoo asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You lifted your head, looking at your surroundings. You told him exactly where you were. But then it dawned on you—Wonwoo was working, and you had pretty much just called him on impulse.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed shakily. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

Wonwoo lowered his face more, hiding completely from Mingyu’s furtive glances. “I’m glad you called me,” he said. In the distance, he could hear a regular calling for him. “Listen, I have to go, but I’ll call you later, alright?”

“I didn’t mean to pull you away from work,” you sniffled lightly. “I’m sorry.”

Wonwoo was three hours from closing his shift. He couldn’t get away even if he had the means to. He was in charge of the bar tonight. And the bar was bustling with the usual Ladies’ Night activity, there was no way he could just abort the ship.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll get off in three hours. Do you… do you want to meet?”

You sniffled again. “Yeah,” you said, your voice sounding tiny. “Please.”

“I’ll text you when I’m out. Just—” he cut himself off, trying to think of what to say. But he couldn’t imagine what you were going through. “—get home safe, okay?”

You couldn’t ignore the warmth and the gentleness lacing his tone. It made your heart swell. “I will.”

Wonwoo sighed. “I’ll text you as soon as I’m off.”

“Okay,” you replied, ending the call.

And like a remedy, your heart was a little less frantic.

Three hours.

That’s all you had to wait.

But as you lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t find what to do. You couldn’t even find the tears to cry anymore.

Time passed and you didn’t find the strength to move.

It should’ve been you.

You didn’t know why the words stung, but in a way that it just filled you with an unknown rage. You didn’t care about Jay. What he did or didn’t do with his life wasn’t your problem anymore.

Dodged that bullet, you could hear Mona’s words in your head, like a distant echo guiding you through.

The lights were off, the only thing illuminating your studio apartment was the TV, which was playing music videos at low volume. You were ignoring it, incapable of paying attention to anything else.

Your mind was cluttered with heavy, and dark thoughts. They pulled you away and deeper into the jaws of the monster that was your inner voice at that moment. You felt bad, but not at what happened, but at the thing you were turning into.

You weren’t enough for one man.

Then you were the temporary fix of another.

And now, you were using another man to get by.

No, that isn’t what you were doing, the lighter voice inside you tried to reason.

But no matter how you saw it, you couldn’t get rid of the thing eating at your heart, taking full bites, and chewing on it, leaving you bare and vulnerable.

You felt dirty. Hollow.

You wondered when it would stop. You wondered if there would be a day when you felt like you weren’t scared of the silence and the dark of the night. You wondered if the empty space in your bed wouldn’t matter anymore.

Part of you wanted to rage, to feel angry at Jay for ruining such a good night. Maybe you deserved this, maybe you needed a reminder.

You closed your eyes, trying to come back to the surface, trying to distance yourself from that voice that was luring you into parts you thought you had escaped from.

The fuzzy caress from the effects the red wine gave you had long run off. The impulse to get up and search for the bottles you had forgotten in the kitchen cabinet came about your fingers, like an itch you wanted to scratch.

Eyes completely closed, you felt the gentle ebb and flow of the last minutes of your drunken dizziness leaving your body. You sighed.

You ached to feel something.

In the darkness, you saw him. You didn’t want to, not at first.

You stretched out your arms on your bed, relishing in the gentle caress of your covers against your skin. Turning your face against your pillow, you remembered his hands as he cupped your cheeks, kissing you softly, then deeply.

The night Wonwoo spent in your bed had left an echo in you. You didn’t sport the mark he had left on your neck anymore, but you remembered seeing it every day, wishing he had left more, and all over you.

Then you remembered the little sounds he made when he was inside you—the grunts and gasps he emitted through his soft lips. How he delivered each thrust hard and deep, like he wanted to leave a mark.

You bit your bottom lip, sensing something rousing deep inside you. It was too late to stop now, you were falling. You wondered if he had thought of you again after that night.

A tingling feeling rushed beneath your skin, travelling from your face to the apex between your thighs. In your mind, you were seeing him, feeling him. Feeling his mouth on you, licking your inner thighs, kissing, and giving you soft bites.

You exhaled the nervousness inside you, to no avail. You knew it was too late to stop the feeling from blooming at the pit of your tummy.

Your self-control slipped from your hands at the same time that you pulled your knees up, your hand sneaking beneath the band of your sweatpants.

The first caress of your fingertip against your folds made your whole blood surge. You were so wet that you had already pooled in your panties, making you want to feel embarrassed, but the feeling never came.

You dipped two fingers in your entrance, your mouth parting as you tried to remember the feeling of Wonwoo’s dick slipping inside you. You wondered if the dildo you never used would be up to match the length of his cock.

You opened your eyes, slightly startled by the idea.

You turned over your bed, opening the drawer of your nightstand.

There, beneath the faint glow of the TV screen, you saw the bag where you stored your toys—which you remembered were too embarrassed when you initially got them. You opened it, grabbing the dildo that you have perhaps only used just once. You chewed on your bottom lip, looking at it while debating whether to use it or not.

A part of you felt ridiculous—you were just feeling sorry about yourself and now… you’re going to do this?

You pushed the thoughts away when you pressed the button down, bringing it to life with a loud buzzing noise. You didn’t even bother taking your clothes off—just lowered your sweatpants and panties down enough for you to have the space to slide the toy between your pussy lips.

You were dripping wet, smeared all over as the tip of the dildo slid perfectly inside you. Your mouth dropped open, gasping as you pushed the entire thing inside you, feeling its incessant vibrations ripple inside you.

“God,” you sighed, dropping your head back onto your pillow.

You bit your lower lip again, grabbing the toy to pull it back out slowly. The toy wasn’t as big as Wonwoo, but your imagination was running wild now. You remembered how hard and deep he went when he fucked you, how the tip of his cock reached places you didn’t even know existed.

You ached your back, pushing the toy back inside you, searching for that spot in your walls that Wonwoo had found almost effortlessly.

Sometimes when you were alone and just using your fingers, you would get nothing out of the dildo. So you just resorted to teasing your clit and calling it a night.

But now, you let yourself feel it. You allowed your mind to throw memories from the nights when the pleasure was so much that it overwhelmed you. So you saw him, you saw Mingyu—how he used to fuck you with a light grin on his face, knowing that your orgasm would be his.

You lifted your knees, pushing the toy in and out of you, moaning repeatedly. You desperately pushed the button, speeding up the vibrations. The pleasure brimmed instantly, barreling down your spine—but it wasn’t enough.

Then, your mind spun. You were overcome with memories of Wonwoo—the way he breathed against your neck, fitfully, muffling raw moans against your skin. The way he marked you like you were his, the way he pushed inside you, slowly, deeply.

You slowed down, filling your lungs with air as you slipped the toy inside you, enjoying the vibrations massaging your walls. You pushed it back in, slowly, bottoming out on it. In your mind, you saw Wonwoo, you felt him.

You let out a high-pitched cry—it being instantly cut off by a gasp when the orgasm tore through you, rippling down your body. You arched your back, letting the toy pleasure that spot deep inside you, prolong your orgasm.

You were rendered languid, breathless, and taut on your bed. That was until you felt the urge to pull the toy out of you, which you did, turning it off.

Opening your eyes, you stared at the ceiling, contending now with what you saw in your mind’s eye.

You had pleasured yourself thinking about Wonwoo—and Mingyu.  

You sat up slowly, pulling your pants up with shaky hands.

Somewhere on your bed covers your phone buzzed. You reached out for it, unlocking the screen to have your heart jolt at the words, “I’m outside” from Wonwoo.

You rubbed a hand against your face. Shame and guilt spread through your face and neck.

Pushing yourself up, you decided to discard the used vibrator inside your drawers and rushed to grant him access to your building.

You tried fixing your hair, still shaking with the aftermath of what you had done.

And when Wonwoo knocked on your door softly, you knew there was something wrong with you. Because the shame vanished, and was replaced by a joyful excitement to see his face again.

“Hey,” Wonwoo breathed, his eyes outlining your face, your body. “How are you?” he asked.

You were reminded why he asked that, why worry was all over the features of his face. “I’m fine,” you mumbled, swiftly bringing a hand to the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

Wonwoo gasped nervously, but his hands quickly found your waist. “Wait,” he whispered, but was quickly shut up by another kiss from you.

You pulled him closer, your other hand closing the door behind him. “I was thinking about you,” you confessed abruptly, not caring about how you were coming off.

“You were?” he asked, his tone laced with surprise and amusement. He let out a giggle in your mouth, one that sounded almost boyish. “Hold on—please,” he sighed, his body tensing as you ran your hands down his chest.

You stepped back, reality hitting you hard. “I’m sorry,” you blurted, bringing a hand to cover your mouth.

“No, don’t be,” he mumbled.

Then he paused, assessing you with a quick glance and lowering his backpack on the floor.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, putting two fingers beneath your chin to lift your face to him. “You don’t want to talk first?”

The light touch of his fingers against your face made your skin tingle. You blinked at him slowly, a short sigh leaving your body involuntarily.

“No,” you swallowed, shaking your head.

Wonwoo lifted his eyebrows. “We’ll talk later?” he asked, his voice was soft and gentle with you.

You had no other choice but to nod. “Yes,” you said, realizing that you indeed wanted to confide in him again—but your body was like a storm that needed to be sated by his touch.

Wonwoo directed a look at you for one second, content with what he found in your eyes. He dipped his head, meeting your lips with his in a swift kiss that had your lips creating a smacking noise. You smiled softly on his lips before kissing him again, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What were you thinking?” he asked with a rasp, pressing soft kisses on your lips.

His hand switched from your chin to your waist, gently nudging you back. You understood what he wanted, and you staggered backwards, using your hands around him to bring him with you.

You stumbled upon the round table, gasping softly into his mouth when he broke away from your lips. His hand returned to your nape, his fingers tangling around the strands of your hair, and pulling it to tilt your head back.

“Mmn?” he pressed, his voice a mere murmur in your ear as he kissed your earlobe. “You said you were thinking about me.”

You had to bite your lip down to stop the moan from escaping your mouth. His lips were descending on the curve of your neck, kissing down the spot he had marked three nights ago.

Your hands held onto his shoulders, unable to move or to think. His wet lips were reaching your shoulder, caressing your bare skin with his breath as he breathed in your perfume.

A finger hooked around the strap of your tank top, nudging it aside to press his lips on your skin. He kissed each spot so softly that it left tingles on your skin, making it prickle.

“Baby.” He whispered, his voice barely making out a rasp.

“Yeah,” you swallowed, trying to ignore the effect that word coming from his lips had on you. “I was thinking about the other night, what we did…”

“What we did?” he repeated, sounding amused. He pulled back from your shoulder, letting you see the tiny smile playing on his lips.

You pushed his shoulder playfully. “You know what I mean.”

“We did a lot of things the other night,” he said jokingly, the smile not wiping off his face. “Do you mean how you yelled at me, and berated me for being an asshole to you?”

You clicked your tongue, playing his game. “I didn’t berate you,” you rolled your eyes.

Wonwoo was quick, leaning towards you and capturing your lips in a feathery kiss. “Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he said with a raspy tone, pushing your body against the table with his hands on your waist.

You leaned back, unable to push against his kisses which turned from feathery to demanding. His hand snaked from your waist to your neck, his long fingers circling it gently, without pressing any important parts yet.

He pulled you into a long kiss, one that told you that he’d missed you over the course of days and nights of just sticking to chatting on the phone. He moaned softly as his tongue brushed against yours, the sound driving you a little more insane.

Your hands found his hard chest again, feeling his tight muscles, the light outline of his lean abdomen when you slid your palms down, your fingers reaching the hem of his t-shirt.

Wonwoo pulled back, his hand still circling your neck. His dark eyes found yours, looking at you intently. “Were you thinking of doing this?”

You nodded, biting your lower lip. It was hot and wet from his spit. “Yeah,” you sighed, sounding pathetically sweet.

The corner of his lips twitched. “Were you playing with yourself, baby?” he asked.

A shallow breath left through your nose almost involuntarily. The way he used his words made you inch closer to losing what little self-control you had.

“Yeah,” you parroted, your fingers inching closer to the sliver of skin between his belt and the shirt you were trying to hike up.

He gave you a smirk now, but it was sweet, like he found you cute. Using the hand that was on your neck, he pulled you closer to kiss your lips. “Filthy,” he purred softly, brushing your lips with his.

“Wonwoo,” you yelped when his other hand clutched your waist. It was insane to you that he was making you feel so much with so little.

“Please,” you whispered, swallowing hard. “Take me—stop playing, just…” You let out a whiny sound as he started giggling with amusement, as though he still found you cute in your desperation.

“Just what?” he asked, not quite kissing you, but his lips were still so close to yours.

“Fuck me,” you blurted. “Fuck me hard, I don’t care what you do, just do it,” you pleaded, not caring how pathetic you sounded.

Wonwoo gave you a hard kiss, not pulling away from you as he said: “You have a dirty mouth on you,” he said.

You were finding out just how much you liked hearing him talk to you that way. You practically melted against his touch, kissing him again. His hand was still around your neck, while the other searched for the hem of your tank top.

With a strange boldness, you pulled back, grabbing your tank top and hiking it up your torso. You felt his gaze on you as you stripped the tank top off, revealing your bare chest for him.

His gaze darkened, outlining your body like he’d missed it. He bowed his head, giving you a sweet kiss before his hand clutched your waist, pressing his chest against yours.

You gasped in his mouth, feeling his cold fingers dipping onto your soft skin. “Wonwoo, please,” you whispered, breathing hard against him.

He let out an amused sigh. “If I slip my hand in your panties will I find your pussy wet?” he asked, shocking you with the language he used.

“Yes,” you gasped, nearly angling yourself for him.

Wonwoo laughed, wrinkling his nose. “Dirty girl,” he whispered, leaning to touch your forehead with his. “I was also thinking about you,” he confessed.

Your cheeks grew hot. “What were you thinking about?” you asked, your tone whiny and sweet.

His hand circled from your waist, parking on your tummy. “I want to fuck you in front of a mirror one day,” he drawled softly, nearly purring. The tips of his fingers inched closer to the band of your panties. “I want you to see how pretty you look when I’m inside you.”

You nearly moaned, but he quickly shushed you by pressing his lips against yours. His fingers slipped beneath the band of your panties, brushing against your mound. His lips smacked against yours with each kiss he gave you, sighing softly when you moaned.

He pushed his hand further, finding the mess you made while thinking about him. A raw, deep moan vibrated on his chest. “God, baby, you’re dripping,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you moaned, parting your legs more for him, trying to tell him you wanted his fingers inside you.

But he took his time, gently brushing your entrance with the pads of his middle and ring finger. “I was thinking of how good you felt the other night,” he said, his voice barely audible, a gentle purr. “You don’t even know how good you taste, do you?”

You parted your mouth, choking on your own words. You wanted to say yes, you’ve tasted yourself. But every single word you knew slipped from your mind.

Because Wonwoo decided to push his fingers inside you. No warning, no more teasing. He pushed his fingers until you could feel the palm of his hand against your pussy lips.

You squeezed your eyes shut, twisting your fingers around the fabric of his t-shirt. “Fuck,” you breathed. 

“Were you doing it like this?” he asked, barely pulling his fingers out of you to then push them back in.

“No,” you mumbled.

“No?” he pulled his fingers out, sliding them on your clit as you parted your legs more for him.

You leaned back against the table, pressing your palms on it to support yourself. You shook your head, unable to talk.

“Words,” he reminded you pointedly.

“I used a toy,” you blurted, shame tingling beneath your skin.

His fingers swirled around your clit. “Did it make you cum?”

“Yes,” you breathed, loving the sound of those words coming out of him.

“You think a toy can do it better than me?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, heart beating fast at your own boldness.

You were clearly challenging him. You omitted the fact that you had to pretend it was him fucking you instead of a toy. And also, how you were comparing sizes, and that your toy wasn’t enough.

But Wonwoo took the bait.

He grabbed you by the arm, effortlessly moving you to your bed. He pushed you with near carelessness, your back hitting the mattress.

You gasped in surprise, looking at him with an alarming need now. You needed him. You were more than ready for him.

“Take your clothes off,” you said.

Wonwoo tilted his head to one side, arching one eyebrow. “Take them off me,” he bit back.

You sat up, hurriedly taking each item of his clothing. Your fingers fumbled with his belt, distracted by the huge bulge beneath his jeans. And when he was finally undressed, you dared to explore his bare skin with your hands.

He was ready for you. Completely hard and leaking precum for you. You raised your gaze to his face. “I—” you gulped.

He smiled knowingly, pinching your chin.

He moved to the bed, hooking his fingers around the band of your sweats and panties, pulling them down. “Lean back, baby,” he muttered, grabbing you by the hips and helping you part your legs for him.

He wasted no time, pushing his tongue between your pussy lips, giving you a generous stroke with his tongue.

“God, Wonwoo, yes,” you sighed, raking your fingers through his messy hair.

He moaned against your pussy, pushing his fingers inside you again, curving them against your walls.

“Fuck,” you groaned, looking at his face as he pushed it against your cunt.

Wonwoo teased your clit with thorough, open-mouthed kisses. His fingers massaging your walls, dragging his knuckles slowly in and out.

“More,” you blurted with a lewd tone.

He dragged his tongue flat on your clit right before wrapping his lips around it, sucking it lightly. He started plunging his fingers in and out of you, curving them against your walls, against that spot you were itching to find.

“God, Wonwoo,” you gasped, bringing a hand to the back of his head as he ate you out just like the other night.

But he was on a mission now. He was thrusting his fingers in and out of you like he was trying to make you reach your high quickly. And that was easy, you were already shaking, your breathing ragged as you inched closer and closer.

“Oh, fuck, Wonwoo—” you gasped, aware of the lewd sounds coming out from the rapid thrusting of his fingers. But there was another issue—and you knew you were closer to your orgasm, but it felt different. Urgent, and so wet. “Fuck, fuck, stop.”

He detached his mouth from your pussy, pulling out his fingers and looking up at you.

“Wait,” you said, panting embarrassingly loudly. You smiled despite yourself.

Wonwoo sighed amusedly. “Too much?”

You nodded, still breathless. “Please, fuck me,” you sobbed, not caring how pathetic you sounded. “I need you.”

Before he gave you what you wanted, he took his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean off your arousal. You followed him with your gaze as he hovered on top of your body, arms on each side of your head to give you a kiss. You muffled a moan in his mouth, feeling his tongue brushing yours, making you taste yourself. 

The act was so lewd that you felt a rush tingling down your spine. 

Then got to his knees, positioning his hips between your legs in an upright position. “Where is it?” he asked.

You blinked at him dumbly, but understood after a second. “In my drawer,” you replied, and then you added: “Why?”

He shrugged slightly, reaching to open your drawer. “You said this thing can fuck you better than I can,” he said with ease, examining the dildo you had used, still slick with your mess.

But he pulled out another toy—one you used more frequently because you deemed it to be more effective than the dildo. It was a rose toy. He glanced your way, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You were about to take the toy from his grasp, but he was faster—trapping your wrists with one of his, pinning them above your head.

“Keep them there,” he mumbled, leaning back on his upright position.

Then something happened inside you. You forgot about misbehaving, about taunting him. The darkened look on his face was all you needed to know that you were about to get what you wanted.

He grabbed his cock with one hand, rolling it a few times to smear the precum all over its head. Then, his gaze fell on your body, on your pussy all dripping with your arousal and pink with overstimulation.

He bit down his bottom lip, guiding the tip of his cock down your folds, playing with you. “Wonwoo,” you called with an annoyingly sweet tone. “Stop teasing me and just fuck me already.”

“Grab the railings,” he motioned with the tip of his nose at your headboard. You did what he asked, just as you felt his bulbous cockhead notching at your entrance.

And with no more teasing, no warning at all, he pushed inside you. All in one go, he bottomed out with a pleased sigh.

You let out a mewling sound, closing your eyes tightly to enjoy the sting his cock gave you as it stretched your walls. “Fuck, Wonwoo,” you gasped, trying to urge him to start moving.

But then, he turned the toy on, guiding the centre of it to your swollen clit. The relentless vibrations overwhelmed you instantly. You cried out, feeling another orgasm surge inside you, consuming you quicker than all the other orgasms you’ve had.

Wonwoo started moving his cock inside you with slow, deep thrusts. Still biting his lip, his hair dishevelled, looking at you like he still had something to prove. Maybe because he did—and it was entirely your fault that he’d taken on this challenge.

You moved one hand to take the toy from his grasp, but he slapped it away. “Hands where I left them,” he said.

“It’s too much,” you whined, attempting to reach for his hand once more. “Wonwoo, I just need you.”

“Mmn?” he raised his gaze to your face. “What was that, baby?” he asked with a gentler tone.

“I just need you,” you repeated breathlessly, squeezing your eyes shut to let your tears go. “No toys. Just your cock, just—just…”

You arched your back, writhing on your bed as another orgasm rippled through you, taking over your ability to think and speak. You came so hard that you weren’t able to contain yourself, crying and panting pathetically.

“Oh, baby, look at yourself,” Wonwoo sighed, sounding amused. “You’re wetting the bed.”

“Please, please, please,” you gasped, ignoring the shame boiling in your blood. You pressed the side of your face on your pillow, realizing that it was wet with tears.

“Please, what?”

“Just you,” you mumbled dazedly, blinking at him. “I just need you.”

Wonwoo turned the vibrator off, tossing it aside and grabbing your hips with his hands. He plunged into you, hard and deep, like he was holding himself back earlier. His thrusts were so full, so calculated that they made you forget about the overstimulation you got from the toy.

“God, fuck,” you writhed, grabbing onto the railings again, holding onto them as pleasure brimmed inside you.

“Good girl,” Wonwoo drawled lazily, moving inside you with the same deep and thorough thrusts you tried to emulate with your toy.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of having him buried inside you—massaging your walls, reaching so deep you felt like cumming again soon. “God, that feels good,” you mewled.

Wonwoo sighed, and you opened your eyes to see his light smile. It did something to you—to see him smiling as he fucked you hard and deep. He looked so hot, his hair was dishevelled, and his glasses were slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah? Better than that toy?” he sighed with a mocking smile, pushing his cock inside your tight cunt.

You nodded dumbly. “So much better,” you admitted. And it was true—nothing could compare to the feeling of having him inside you. Raw, hard, and deep.

Wonwoo gave you a lazy smile, moving his hand to grip your neck lightly. He didn’t press hard, just circled his fingers around your bare neck, as though he just wanted to see how you looked with his hand around you.

And you wondered what you would look like. Wholly naked, legs spread for him, his cock disappearing inside you, tits bouncing gently each time he pushed his hips against you.

He slipped his hand from your neck slightly, brushing his thumb against your lips. “Open up,” he whispered.

You obeyed, parting your lips to suck on his thumb. You rolled your tongue around his thumb, simulating what you wanted to do to his cock, looking straight into his eyes.

“Fuck,” he blinked, swallowing back a moan. He pulled his thumb from your mouth, guiding it between your legs, where he started rubbing slow circles against your swollen and very sensitive clit.

You flinched, overstimulated. “Wonwoo,” you mewled, closing your eyes. “Yes, please, please. Don’t stop.”

And he complied, like his pleasure was not important. He kept his thrusts deep, steady, flicking your clit expertly. You moaned lewdly, enjoying the sweet waves building inside you—readying for another orgasm.

“Fuck, Wonwoo,” you whined.

“That’s it, baby,” he mumbled with a raspy tone. “Cum for me. Give me one more.”

“Wonwoo, fuck,” you sighed, your body tightened, your sanity slipping away. “Please, babe, don’t stop… don’t stop.”

Your jaw went slack, breath catching on your throat with a high-pitch cry as sweet pleasure bloomed inside your body, stretching to every limb, dancing beneath your skin.

Wonwoo moaned, the sound raw and raspy coming from his chest. But you found that he had liked the sound of your voice calling him babe, his light smile told you that much.

He tilted his head back, sighing out in pleasure. “Baby, I’m close,” he purred, swallowing hard.

You nodded to him. “Cum inside me,” you told him. 

Wonwoo didn’t remove his gaze from yours, his eyes peering into your soul as he moved his body against yours. A deep moan came out of him, his chapped lips parting softly as he spilled himself inside you. 

You were both panting, looking at each other like there was something left unsaid. It was obvious, though, and neither of you needed to speak out. 

There was something flowing in the air between you. Electrifying, alluring. You knew Wonwoo knew it too. 

You liked Wonwoo. More than you were allowing yourself to admit. 

“Hey,” he sighed, his chest still rising and falling steadily. 

“Hey,” you replied softly. 

“Okay?” He arched his eyebrows.

You nodded. “Amazing,” you replied with a lazy smile.

He returned the smile. “You were so good, babygirl,” he hummed, squeezing your hip gently.

“Hmm,” you hummed sweetly, palming his hand on your hip. “Take a shower with me, yeah?” 

He nodded, looking at your hand on top of his. “Yeah,” he said. “And then we talk?” 

“We talk,” you agreed.

“What do you usually do to feel better?” Wonwoo asked after stepping out of the shower, using the towel you’d lent him to dry his hair, messily rubbing it against his head.

He was wearing only his boxers, his messy hair dripping wet. He looked like a dream, making it hard for you to concentrate.

You took a long moment to think. “I don’t know,” you admitted with a shrug. “I could say a bunch of different things, but right now I just want to relax. Maybe talking about it will help.”

You opened your drawer, aware that Wonwoo was watching you intently as you spoke.

You pulled out a couple of face masks and two bandanas—one with cat ears, the other with bear ears—and handed him one without a word.

Wonwoo smiled softly, taking the bandana. He looked at it for a long moment before putting it on.

You laughed, reaching out to adjust the cat ears on his head. “There,” you whispered, your eyes drifting back to his face.

“So this is what we’re doing?” he asked, picking up one of the face masks. “Skincare and talking?”

“Yep,” you replied, nodding primly. “And maybe we’ll cuddle later, if I start crying.” You laughed at yourself.

“That sounds like a good plan,” he said.

“Crying sounds good to you?”

Wonwoo opened the package with his long fingers, unfolding the mask carefully. “I mean, it releases toxins, cleans and lubricates the eyes—at least it does for me. Plus, you get a kick of endorphins afterward. Overall, it’s good. Regulates—”

“Wonwoo.” You deadpanned.

“What?” he asked, lifting his face. “Am I talking too much?”

You smiled, your stomach flipping. “You’re cute,” you sighed.

Wonwoo smiled sheepishly. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s okay,” you giggled.

“But seriously, I think it’s better to cry it out.”

“It makes my face puffy,” you said, unfolding your mask.

“So what? You’re still pretty,” he murmured, still struggling with his.

Something fluttered in your chest. “Here, let me,” you said, taking the mask from him and unfolding it, then placing it gently over his face.

His eyes stayed on you. He rested a hand on your hip—almost unconsciously, like he couldn’t keep from touching you. As though he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

“What?” you asked, sensing his gaze.

“I can’t see,” he laughed. “I need my glasses.”

“Oh,” you chuckled. “You could wear them over the mask.”

He pushed his glasses into place, grinning faintly. 

You turned to your bed, stopping before it. “Oh,” you uttered, seeing the wet spot on the side of the bed you always used.

“We’ll have to lay on the other side,” Wonwoo said with an ease that made you think this was almost inconsequential to him. 

“I could change the covers,” you said, shrugging lightly. 

Wonwoo palmed your butt lightly over your clothes. “Or we could rest, baby,” he said gently. 

“Yeah…” you sighed, realizing that you were too tired to change the covers. 

You lay back against the pillows, reaching for him as he followed you onto the bed.

Wonwoo sighed, wrapping an arm around you. “You okay?” he asked.

You blinked. “I feel like a mess,” you whispered. “Like I’m free-falling.”

“You’re allowed to feel like that,” he said, calm and steady. “You’re someone who got hurt. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”

You turned your head to look at him. “Why are you so nice to me?”

He shrugged. “Because you deserve it.”

You didn’t doubt the sincerity in his voice, but part of you couldn’t fully believe it.

“I know I said I was okay earlier,” you murmured. “But I wasn’t. I’m still not.”

“You don’t have to be,” he said softly, reaching for the hand resting on his stomach.

You watched as his fingers played with yours, slow and careful. “I really thought I was doing okay,” you said, voice cracking. “But I realize now that I’m not.”

“You’re still healing,” he murmured. Then, after a beat: “And your ex was an asshole. No one could’ve predicted he’d say something like that.”

You closed your eyes. “He is an asshole,” you agreed. “It’s a good thing I broke up with him. Dodged a bullet.”

Wonwoo hummed, amusement blooming in his chest.

You lay in the peaceful moment for a while, listening to the faint sounds coming from the streets outside. His hand was still holding yours, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

“Can I ask you something?” you whispered.

He hummed in acknowledgement.

“Do you wish things had happened differently? Between us.”

You felt him turn slightly so he could look at you. And when you moved your head on his chest, you found his gaze on you. Steady, thoughtful. “Sometimes,” he conceded. “But I don’t know if we would’ve ended up here if they hadn’t happened this way.”

You nodded, your gaze falling to his chest. “I just keep thinking… how things started, everything leading up to here…” you said faintly. “I don’t want to mess this up more because of how we started this.”

His thumb brushed gently against your knuckles. “You’re overthinking it, baby,” he whispered. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.”

The gentleness in his voice made your throat tighten. He was giving you the assurance that your soul craved to hear.

You wanted to say something, anything to match the certainty in his voice. But you couldn’t find the words.

You rested your head on his chest again, letting the quiet pulses of his heartbeat reach your ears, filling the silence.

For a while, neither of you spoke. And you continued to search for words to say.

From the beginning, Wonwoo had shown you that he wanted this. That he was choosing you for you. Not because of the things you had to offer, not for your body, or your pain.

You felt seen.

“You make things sound easy,” you mumbled finally, your voice sounding tiny.

Wonwoo let out a soft breath, and you could picture the smile that came with the sound. “I know it’s not easy. I’m just trying to meet you where you are.”  

“And where is that, exactly?”

“Somewhere between healing and trying to feel something again,” he answered with a softer tone.

That made you smile. “Sounds about right,” you replied.

Wonwoo shifted slightly, lifting his phone to glance at the screen. “How long are we supposed to have this?” he asked.

Your mind was so clouded that you'd forgotten about the mask completely. “Fifteen minutes.”

“It’s been twenty minutes already,” he said with a light laugh.

“I guess we should take them off,” you replied in kind.

You both sat up slowly, facing him as you peeled the mask from your faces. Wonwoo did the same, his fingers removing his glasses first.

You looked at him, your heart squeezing so hard it tore a giggle from you. “Hold on. You have a little piece stuck to your chin.”

He blinked. “Where?” he asked, lifting his fingers to his face.

“Here,” you whispered, reaching out. Your fingers brushed his skin as you carefully plucked the piece of paper off.

You didn’t pull your hand away, letting it linger. Your eyes met his, and the feeling consuming your heart just intensified, making it beat louder.

You blinked dumbly, moving away from him. In the bathroom again, you threw the facemasks in the bin, ignoring the mirror. You knew what you’d find in your reflection, because you could feel it—the tingling heat on your cheeks, the breathless, dreamy feeling.

When you came back to your bed, Wonwoo was still sitting there, now wearing his glasses. He raised his face, pressing his lips into a smile.

“Wanna cuddle?” you asked, the words flying out of your mouth.

He blinked slowly, the smile stretching on his full lips. “Sure,” he mumbled, laying back on the pillows. You leaned back into him, resting your head lightly on his shoulder. Wonwoo wrapped an arm around you again.

The silence came again. But this time you weren’t scared of it, you didn’t feel like running away. You closed your eyes, snuggling closer to his chest.

Wonwoo brought a hand to your head, his fingers going through the strands of your hair with gentle motions. It felt as though he were putting your concerns to rest, calming the thoughts running in circles in your mind.

You’re not sure when you fell asleep, but you did this soundly, nestling in Wonwoo’s safe embrace.

The sound of rain tapping lightly against your windows woke you up. You realized after a beat that you had woken up before your alarm went off.

The soft weight of Wonwoo’s arm around your waist made you keep still. He was still snuggled close to you, his chest pressed to your back. You opened your eyes slowly, blinking away the bleak light filling the room.

You must’ve woken him up, because he stirred behind you. He let out a soft hum, his nose brushing against your hair. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice still heavy with sleep.

“Good morning,” you hummed.

You turned over in his embrace, facing his chest now. You snuggled against his bare skin, using a hand to feel the warmth coming from him.

“Why are you awake?” you whispered.

“I’m hungry,” he mumbled. “Was thinking about where to go to grab breakfast,” he mumbled happily.

You giggled against his chest, circling an arm to hug him too. “What are your options?”

“I don’t have many,” he admitted with a lazy tone, as though he were falling back asleep. “But I know a place I think you’ll like.”

You lifted your head slightly, finding his face. He had his eyes closed, half of his face buried on the pillow. He peeled one open, a smile stretching on his lips when he saw you.

“You drooled in your sleep,” he said as though he’d just remembered it, smiling softly at the memory.

“Stop. No I didn’t,” you sighed, bringing a hand to search your face.

“Yes, you did,” he teased. “Gross,” he said.

“Shut up, Jeon Wonwoo,” you pushed his chest.

But he didn’t even budge. He let out a louder laugh at your feeble attempt. “Make me,” he said.

You planted a hard kiss on his lips. “That’ll do it,” you sighed.

Wonwoo paused, processing what you’d done. He clicked his tongue, grabbing your head. “Come here, you,” he muttered, pressing his lips against yours again, giving you a fuller kiss.

You giggled into his mouth, melting into him completely. He slipped his hand from your cheek to your neck, pressing his lips against yours sweetly. “Let’s go grab breakfast?” he whispered.

“Are you asking me out on a date, Wonwoo?” you teased, your eyes fluttering close as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Yes. I am,” he replied without letting another second pass.

Your heart fluttered, robbing your ability to speak. “Okay,” you breathed. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” he replied in kind, and you realized then, he’d gotten nervous.

You couldn’t help but smile. It was the second time you’d woken up with Wonwoo in your bed. And yet, he was nervous about asking you out.

“You’re too cute,” you whispered.

He smiled, notching the tip of his nose against yours. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” you said.

And Wonwoo was more than happy to oblige.

Mingyu parked a block away from your apartment, letting out a big sigh as he turned the engine off. The entire ride over, he had rehearsed in his mind everything he wanted to tell you. He did this, while knowing that by the time he got to look at your face, he would forget his words.

He remembered the last night he spent at your apartment. His guts twisted when he remembered that look on your face when you opened the door for him. You looked so happy to see him.  

Will you look at him the same way?

The nerves were truly eating him alive. But beneath all that, there was something else brewing—something pulling him back. Heavier than guilt and more painful than pride. It was regret, telling him to turn back around.

But he couldn’t live a day longer missing you.

He leaned back in the driver’s seat, exhaling as his fingers raked his long hair back.

“Just do it, Mingyu,” he told himself aloud, sitting alone in Wonwoo’s car. “All you gotta do is ring the buzzer. Talk to her.”

And with that, he climbed out of the car, crossing the street with a pounding heart that could be heard throughout the whole block.

The sky had cleared for once. The rain had stopped about an hour ago, leaving a cold air that felt crisp on his face. He hissed, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he approached your building.

But then he stopped.

You were there. Just outside your apartment building, standing under the awning of the entrance.

But you weren’t alone.

There was a man beside you—taller than you, leaning too close for Mingyu’s liking. His hand brushed your back as you laughed at something he said, your face tilting upward.

Mingyu’s stomach dropped.

Everything happened too fast.

The proximity wasn’t enough for him to discern who the guy was. He was covered, wearing the cap of his hoodie over his head. But that didn’t matter. All he could see was how you looked at the guy.

Mingyu subconsciously took a couple of steps forward, staggering almost. But then he stopped cold, watching the scene happening before him like an outsider.

It was your smile, the distant sound of your laughter, that had stunned him, causing a deep blow to his chest. You didn’t look like the last time he saw you, crying at the bleachers. You looked like someone who had already moved on.

Mingyu couldn’t move. He couldn’t call your name. Just watched as you and the other guy walked slowly down the sidewalk, disappearing down the next corner. Together.

His chest felt hollow.

The words he had memorized were rendered useless, forgotten in the back of his mind. Without thinking, he turned around and walked back to the car.

He was too late.

But despite that, something gnawed at his soul. Something sticky, ugly. It took over him quickly, like fire burning down an entire forest. She’s mine, no one else’s. He thought, aware how crazy his inner voice sounded. But he didn’t care. He was beginning to see red.

She’s mine.

Mine. 

☾ author's note: hello, hello! ᨐฅ

this fic journey has ben craaaaaazy!! i was astounded by the amount of you guys that left comments and came to my ask box to share your opinions!! it really warmed up my heart 🥺🩵

it is the first time that one of my series is received like this, i mean that it has a lot of you sharing their opinions and theorizing in the comments section. some of you even had theories that are very close to where the story is going in the future and i was like 👁️👄👁️ truly amazing. wow. thank you!!

you know the drill, if you have something to say, comment it, reblog, give it a like, and my ask box is always open!! 🩵🩵🩵

toodles

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© TO HANNIEWEEN I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[krosiefics]

sleep talking • lee minho

MDNI 18+

WC: 795

Synopsis: in the teen vogue interview the members said that minho sleep-talks and soooo well my brain decided to spew this out…

Tags: pure smut, afab!reader, needy!minho, unprotected sex (be safe please), fingering, use of pet names (baby, love, etc), minho had a wet dream while sleep talking, established relationship, parasomnia, sleep talking, grinding, cockwarming(?), lwk dry humping, oneshot

You unlock the door of your apartment quietly, unsure if your boyfriend was asleep or not. You sneakily walked through the kitchen, leaving your bag and accessories on the counter top. A small purr caught your attention, you turn to your right and see Dori rustling around on the cat tower, he cuddles next to Doongie who doesn’t flinch when Soongi’s foot twitches and smacks him in the face.

You smile at your babies before creaking the bedroom door open, peeking inside seeing Minho curled up in the bed, his arms holding onto your pillow. You smile softly at him before slipping into the room, gently closing the door behind. You’re too tired to shower today and decide to just shower in the morning. After you change into your pajamas, you attempt to wiggle the pillow that Minho grasps.

“No, don't go.” Minho mumbled quietly, “I love you.” His grasp on the pillow tightens, pulling it closer, causing you to be pulled on top of him. The moment he felt an extra weight on him, Minho’s arms wrapped around you, holding you as if you were the pillow. “So soft.” He muttered. You smiled at the sleeping boy, Minho tended to sleeptalk, it was endearing hearing him talk out loud while he was dreaming. You plant a small kiss on his forehead. His face scrunched up, groaning as you finally pushed the pillow out from between your bodies.

“Mm…need it.” Minho grunted, you look at him, assuming he meant the pillow, but as you snuggle back into his hold you realize what he meant. Something poked at your front once you settled in. Your eyes shoot open as you feel him start grinding against your body. “Shit.” You sigh under your breath, “Need it.” Minho whimpered as his hands instinctively started roaming your body.

Your mind is filled with the temptation of taking him right now, but Minho being asleep made you rethink your wants. He stirs awake, his hips still rutting against yours. “Love, please.” Your eyes meet his, which have fluttered open slightly. You feel your cheeks warm up as his hands squeeze your ass. “Baby…please.” He pleaded, now fully awake.

“Fuck,” You moan softly as his hand comes around the front and touches your warm cunt. Minho gave you pleading eyes, his clothed cock rubbing against your pelvis. You nod at him giving him the go-ahead, the both of you were too tired to do this right, so he shakily moved your loose pajama shorts to the side as well as your panties. His calloused fingers flicking at your clit before sliding between your slick folds. You squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure as two of his fingers slip inside your leaking hole. Minho’s thumb sloppily rubbing circles on your clit.

After a few minutes of Minho stretching you out, you spread your legs, nudging him with your knee that you are ready. Minho took your hint and shakily took his hard cock out of his sweatpants. He swung your legs over his hip as the two of you laid there. Minho aligned hs cock to your wet cunt and slid the tip in slowly until he bottomed out. You laid there, the feeling of his warmth filling you up sent more arousal down your leg. Every now and then one of you would move or grind your hips into each other.

“Feel so warm.” Minho sighed as he buried his head in your neck, leaving kitten licks on your collarbone. You moaned softly as his teeth grazed over your skin. He suddenly started pumping himself slowly into you. Small whines slipped from your mouth as he sensually moved out of you. Minho’s grunts in your ear were enough to send you over the edge, but you held off. His hand came down to play with your ass once again. “So good.” You whimpered as his other hand played with your clit.

“Love you.” Minho whined against your skin. “Love you too Min.” Your fingers dug into his back

Minho started leaving kisses up your neck until he reached your lips. The kiss was messy and uncoordinated, but neither of you cared, both too exhausted. Minho’s pace slightly sped up as he neared his climax, his fingers continuously assaulting your clit. “Min,” You cried quietly as you felt your orgasm hit you. He continued thrusting himself into you, though you whimpered at the overstimulation, “I know love,” He cooed, “almost there.”

A few thrusts later he filled you up. He slipped out of you, reaching over for the tissues that sat on the bedside table. Cleaning himself and your body up slowly as you laid there for him. Within ten minutes the two of you were out. Peacefully snuggled into each other.

[covenofagatha]

The Psychology of Love (Part 13)

The Punishment

You go to Agatha's office to see what she wants after your night of drunk-texting her

Word count: 6.3k

Warnings: spanking, masturbation, praise kink, slight degradation

What does she want? 

The possibilities seem endless: she wants to make sure you’re okay, she wants to yell at you for getting drunk, she wants to make sure you’re ready for the test, she wants to yell at you for never responding. 

All of them sound just as plausible for Agatha. 

So much for staying in bed the entire day. 

You groan quietly before sitting up. You have about three hours before your first class but not much time after it before your next one, and you don’t want to keep Agatha waiting until the evening, so best to just go now. 

There’s no telling how long you’ll be there for and maybe you can pull the excuse that you don’t want to come all the way back to your dorm after your meeting so she’ll let you stay with her. 

So you push yourself out of bed, your feet landing softly on the floor and you trudge to your closet to figure out what to wear. You still have your outfit from the bar last night on and the smell of alcohol still on your breath, so clearly after you got home, you got into bed and promptly passed out. 

An idea sparks in your head. If she is mad at you, maybe you can minimize that. You dig through your clothes to find a white top that shows just a sliver of your stomach and the black skirt you sent her a picture of the day of the mixer, the one she told you to save for another time. 

This seems as good of a time as any. 

And just in case, you find a lacy red bra and matching underwear. You feel slightly foolish for dressing up, especially if she’s going to get mad at you, but you’d rather be prepared in case things do take a turn. 

You grab your shower stuff too on the way to the bathroom. 

The warm water rinses away any trace of last night and you feel like a new person. You just stand there for a couple of minutes, letting the droplets run down your bare skin, processing everything. 

It’s not even three weeks into the semester and you’re entangled with a professor. She could get in serious trouble if anyone found out, she could be fired and have a hard time getting hired anywhere else, and she might lose credibility in the psychology field. 

And yet she thinks you’re worth it. 

That pressure, that assumption, weighs heavy on you and you don’t take it lightly. Last night, you got too close to accidentally spilling something potentially damning to Nat and Wanda. 

You need to be careful, especially when drunk. You can’t let Agatha down. 

Agatha, who you told last night that you masterbated with her perfume bottle because you’ve conditioned yourself to get turned on to the smell of her. 

You drop your head into your hands. You really need to just stop talking while you’re drunk. It doesn’t bode well for you. 

The shower starts to turn cold so you quickly wash yourself and then turn it off. You dry off and then go stand in front of the mirror to get dressed. 

The bra and underwear look good on you, the red a striking color against your skin, and they hug your breasts and ass in all the right ways. A part of you yearns for Agatha to get to see and you debate sending her a picture. 

But you might be in trouble with her, so you don’t think that would be appropriate. Although…that could be a good way to distract her. 

She already thinks you’re bratty enough, you scold yourself. Logic wins out in the end and you pull your shirt over your head and then slide the skirt up your legs. You pull the skirt up just a bit higher than you normally would so if you bend over, Agatha will be able to see your underwear clearly, because you can’t fully resist the urge to tease.

You brush your teeth and then comb your hair with your fingers and inhale and exhale slowly. Everything’s going to be fine.

A guy passes you in the hallway back to your dorm and looks you up and down but you keep your eyes trained on the floor. You open and close the door to your room quietly because Nat and Wanda are still sleeping. You think at least one of them has class relatively soon, but they look so peaceful that you don’t want to disturb them.

After you set your shower caddy down in your closet, you walk over to your nightstand and grab your phone. No extra notifications. You toss it on the bed and then shove the vial of Black Opium into your drawer before pulling the high heeled bottle of Good Girl. 

You spritz it over yourself and the smell of almonds, flowers, and cocoa fills the air. Maybe Agatha will get conditioned to it the same way you’ve gotten conditioned to Black Opium. 

The thought makes your clit throb. Both of you, conditioned to each other? Fuck. That’s a psychology experiment in itself. 

Just in case you don’t get to come back to your room, you throw your laptop and notebooks for your test tomorrow into your tote bag, slide your feet into your shoes and actually tie them, and shove your keys into the side pocket. 

“Something smells good, what is that?” Wanda asks, stirring in bed. You turn from the door, where your hand is resting on the handle. Her eyes flutter open to crane her neck up at you. 

My professor gave it to me and it’s called Good Girl. 

“Just a new perfume,” you say hastily. “Got to go, I’ll see you later.” 

She murmurs something but you don’t catch it because you’re already closing the door behind you. 

There’s other people leaving their rooms at the same time as you and the difference in where they’re going versus you—them to class, you to see the professor that you have something with—heats your cheeks up. 

You’re determined to go straight to her office, but your stomach grumbles and reminds you that you haven’t eaten a real meal since yesterday afternoon, so you swing by the dining hall to grab a bagel. 

The remnants of the hangover ebb away while you eat the bread and you start the trek over to the psychology building. As always, your heart rate grows faster and the pit in your stomach deepens. 

It’s the not knowing that’s the worst part. There was no way to tell what she wanted from her text, so you’re walking in with absolutely no clue of what she’s feeling. 

It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. You repeat the mantra each time your foot hits the ground. She isn’t mad. And if she is, nothing will come from it. She might scold you a little but you think that’s the worst you’ll get. You just need to own up and explain what happened and hope she understands that you are just a college student and hanging out with friends is part of that life. 

It’s not like you haven’t been studying. 

You stop right outside her office, your eyes tracing over the Dr. Agatha Harkness on the sign next to the door. You take a deep breath in, hold it, and then slowly let it go. You fidget with your skirt, tugging it down just a little, and fix your hair. 

It’s okay. 

Reaching out your hand, you knock on the solid door. There’s no window so you can’t see in, and you have no idea what awaits you on the other side. 

“Come in,” Agatha calls, and you turn the handle. 

She stands up when you enter and your heart rate skyrockets. She’s wearing a baby blue button-down shirt tucked into loose khaki pants, held up by a black belt. Heels peak beneath them. Her hair falls down her shoulders again and she’s wearing a pair of round, black glasses. 

Fuck. 

If she notices the trance you’re in, she doesn’t say anything, but her lips are quirked up knowingly. She starts to walk toward you and you’re under the impression that she’s either going to kiss you or slap you. 

But she doesn’t do either—Agatha side-steps you and clicks the lock on the door handle. Her perfume seems even stronger today and you wonder if she did that on purpose. 

Your breath catches. 

No one can get in now. She wouldn’t have done that unless she’s going to do something. 

Is she going to finally fuck you here? If you knew all it would’ve taken was to admit that you masturbated with her perfume bottle, you would’ve done that ages ago. You’re almost mad that you didn’t admit it until now. 

Agatha circles around you while you stand rooted on the spot. You’re not sure if she wants you to move or say something but you don’t want to do the wrong thing. 

“How was your night?” she asks innocently, stopping right in front of you. Her gaze tears right through you, like she’s peering into your soul. 

“Oh, you know,” you chuckle nervously and Agatha arches an eyebrow. “Not too bad. Um, how was your night?” 

It’s a loaded question, one meant to gauge how she’s feeling about everything you said last night. You still can’t piece together what’s about to happen. 

Agatha smiles, bares her teeth, and the resemblance to a predator about to bite its prey is uncanny. “It was…insightful.” 

“Oh?” you rasp, heat suddenly eating you up. 

She takes a step back and drags her dark eyes up and down your body. You feel exposed, but in a good way. “I like the skirt,” she says, her voice low. She remembers it. “Did you wear it to get me in a good mood?” 

It takes you a moment to recall how to speak. “Is it working?” 

Agatha hums and does another circle around you, trailing her fingers over your arm, lower back, other arm, and then finally onto your stomach when she pauses in front of you again. Your breath catches and your muscles tense. 

And then her hand moves down until her fingertips rest right at the hem of your skirt, just under your belly button. 

You can’t breathe and you’re afraid to break eye contact. 

She leans in slowly and you instinctively tilt your chin up so she can kiss you, but she turns her head away and down at the last second, bending over to lick a hot stripe up the column of your throat. It’s right over the hickey she gave you this weekend, the one that has unfortunately all but faded completely, and you hope she’s going to give you another one. 

“I have one question,” she murmurs, a hot breath against your neck, and you repress a shiver. 

“Yeah?” 

Agatha nips at your jawline before pulling away and you gasp. Her hand falls from your waistline and you miss the warmth. 

She walks back to her desk and you follow without even knowing what you’re doing, letting your bag drop off your shoulder and to the floor. Agatha bends over the side of it to grab her phone from the other side and your eyes are drawn to her ass. 

But then she turns back around and stands up, scrolling through. You stand there, awkwardly shifting your weight from leg to leg. What is she looking for? She finds it and looks up at you with a smirk written on her face. 

You feel your stomach erupt with butterflies. 

“‘After the mixer I rubbed it against myself before I made myself come. Felt so good cause it smells like you,’” she recites. It’s your text from last night and you swallow roughly. Agatha could not look more gleeful. “What did you rub against yourself?” 

Your breath comes out strangled. “You don’t—?”

Her tongue pushes against the inside of her cheek as she takes a step closer to you. “I know,” she says quietly, her hand raising to push a lock of hair behind your ear and then cup your cheek. You lean into the touch, lulled into the false sense of security. “But I want you to say it.” 

Of course she does. You shouldn’t even be surprised right now, but the request almost knocks you off your feet. 

Is this why you’re here?

Will she give you a reward for saying it?

“I—I ordered a bottle of your perfume. Black Opium.” Even the name makes your clit pulse and if you squeeze your thighs together, you can feel the mess between them already. “I rubbed the bottle against myself after the mixer.” 

Your amended statement, the full truth, has Agatha’s eyes flashing and her thumb strokes over your bottom lip. “Good girl,” she mumbles and it’s like you’re drunk all over again. “You really did condition yourself for me, didn’t you?” 

There’s a thick heat in her voice and you know it’s turning her on as much as it turns you on. 

“Yes,” you breathe. 

But then she’s gone again, stepping away, and you watch with your mouth open as she pushes the sleeves of her shirt up to her elbows. Her lean forearms are on display now and she moves back to perch against the side of her desk and tuck her hands in her pockets. With her arms like that, it pulls the collar of her shirt further apart and you can see the pale skin of her chest. 

You almost fall to your knees in front of her and you wonder what she would do if you did. 

“The test is tomorrow, you know,” she says casually and the change in subject gives you whiplash. The atmosphere has seemed to tilt, become tense, and you’re vaguely aware that you’re on trial here. 

“I know,” you answer with a nod. 

Her eyebrow raises again and she fixes you with a stare. “So do you make it a habit of going out and getting drunk two days before exams normally? Or is that just for the important ones?” 

And there it is. 

The lines on her face are hardened and you feel like you might shrivel up. “I’ve been studying a lot,” you say defensively, “and I thought a break might help. It was just a night of fun. I was with my roommate and her girlfriend. I’m going to study today, but I’m feeling good about it.” 

Agatha regards you with a coldness and her disappointment hits you like a brick. 

“I’m sorry. I know it’s important and I am taking it seriously. I’m really trying—I just didn’t think one night out would hurt.” 

She stays silent and you think that might be worse than her reprimanding you. 

So you drop to your knees. You’re not thinking—that much is clear—but there’s no missing the surprise that flits across Agatha’s eyes. The carpet burns against your scabbed knee from tripping up the stairs last week but you don’t make a noise. 

A beat passes while you and Agatha just look at each other. Your chest heaves and falls heavily, matched by hers. Her fingers twitch in her pockets, like she’s resisting the urge to reach out and touch you. Your tongue darts out to moisten your lips and she tracks the movement with a stuttered breath. 

“Can I…Can I make it up to you?” you offer, putting as much desperation as you possibly can into the question. You bite your lip and look up at her through your eyelashes, the picture of innocence. 

Agatha lets out a small groan, just barely audible, but it goes straight to your cunt. 

“Do you remember what I said on Monday?” she asks. You frantically think back. Monday was when you had walked into class late in her sweater and hickey on full display, when she gave you the Good Girl perfume. 

When she called you a brat and you once again implied that she liked it. And then…

I won’t reward you for bad behavior. But…you might get punished.

Your breath catches in your throat and she smiles just slightly because she knows that you know. “You’re going to punish me?” But you’re not nervous—quite the contrary. 

Your cunt is aching. 

“Do you think you deserve to be punished?” she asks, smooth as silk, and it’s hard to think straight over the dizzying fog in your head. Is this a trick question? If you say no, will she punish you even more?

But there’s not a bone in your body that wants to disagree with her. Agatha locked the door for a reason. If it gets her hands on you, or yours on her, then you’d more than willingly accept whatever she gives you. 

“I do,” you say, throat dry so it comes out hoarse. “Please, Professor.” And then you watch as her cheeks visibly tint pink. The vein in her forehead is throbbing faintly and fuck—she looks like she wants you more than anything right now.

“Stand up,” she orders, slipping into this role easily, like she’s just been waiting for you to hand over control. You climb to your feet, swaying a little, and her eyes flash again. 

Agatha pushes herself off the desk and moves to the side. She gestures and you know in an instant what she’s going to do to you. Your clit throbs, more wetness seeps out of you, and you feel so hot. 

“Bend over the desk,” she says and she can’t contain the arousal in her voice. You step over slowly but it’s the most you can manage right now. You’re intoxicated again with her and her perfume that’s filling the air, but mixing with your Good Girl scent. It creates a burst of flavor, dark and sultry and permanent. 

Agatha gasps when you lean over, hip bones pressing into the desk, and you perch on your elbows. You can’t see her, but you feel her eyes on the swell of your ass. The skirt has ridden up, you’re sure of it, and you wonder if she likes the underwear you picked out for her too. 

“Spanking is a bit cliche, don’t you think?” you quip, fighting to keep your tone level. 

She huffs in amusement. “Would you rather I make you write ‘I’ll be a good girl’ fifty times?” 

You pretend to think about it for a second before replying, “No, ma’am.” You can’t suppress a giggle but you quickly stop when her fingertips glide up your leg, pushing your skirt up over your ass. 

Agatha traces the bottom edge of your underwear starting at your hip, down, down, down, until her fingers are almost between your legs. 

“If it gets too much, just ask to stop,” she murmurs. 

Before you can retort, she smacks your ass and a strangled noise falls from your mouth. The sting reverberates through your body and the fire inside you only burns brighter. 

She barely gives you time to recover before she spanks you again and a drawn out “Fuck” slips from your lips. Your head drops to rest on your forearms which arches your back and pushes your ass up. 

Agatha spanks the other cheek twice, one after the other with no time in between, and sweat starts to bead on your forehead. You wipe it off on your skin. 

“I thought you were my good girl,” she says with a mock sadness. 

“I am,” you whisper into your arms but she continues like she hasn’t heard you. 

“And yet—” she spanks you again, hard, and you cry out, “time and time again, you just keep showing me that you’re a brat.” 

You shake your head. She sounds so far away over the blood rushing in your ears. 

Her hand intertwines itself into your hair and she pulls your face up out of your arms. “What?” she asks. 

It takes you a few moments to collect your thoughts. There’s a blissful quiet in your head from the mix of pain and pleasure. “I want to be your good girl. Teach me to be your good girl,” you implore and you can almost hear her smiling. 

Agatha soothes your ass, rubbing over the bruised skin with a soft hand. You push further into her touch. “I will, honey. This is part of it. You need to learn.” 

And then she spanks you again and releases your hair so your head can fall back onto your forearms. You slide your arms down straight against the desk and inch further up it so your clit is almost touching the surface. If you rock your hips forward, you can get some pressure on it and the bit of relief you’re able to get is a breath of fresh air. 

Agatha chuckles, but lets you rut for now. “Are you going to get drunk two days before a test again?” she asks gently. 

You don’t answer, partly because the haze in your mind from your movements is distracting and partly because you haven’t been convinced not to yet. 

Her hands grip onto your hips and force you to stop. You let out a pathetic whimper and she spanks you again, this time on both asschecks. 

“God, look at you,” she coos and two of her fingers slide up and down your clothed slit. When she pushes your underwear against your skin, you can feel just how soaked they are. Her touch makes you whine and buck your hips, desperate for more, but she quickly retracts her fingers. “You really fucking like this.” It sounds like she’s in awe. 

You notice that tears from your eyes have dripped down onto your forearms and you sniff. “Please, Agatha,” you say shakily. 

What are you asking for? Neither of you knows and she even gives you a second to clarify, but when you don’t, she spanks you again. The pain has become muted now but the slap sound is loud as ever. It rings out, clear and resounding, and so does its message. You moan and jerk your hips forward, but you can’t get the same relief you were getting earlier. 

“Do you like this?” she asks. 

Another spank. 

“Yes,” you choke out, “please, fuck—”

Another spank. 

Tears fall freely down your cheeks and you taste the saltiness on your lips. All you need is a touch to your clit, one single touch, and you’d fall apart for her. Tension is building in your lower stomach and your breathing is ragged, loud 

Another spank. 

Your hands scramble for purchase against the smooth desk. Your body is ablaze with a heat you’ve never felt before. 

“Are you going to be a good girl?” Agatha croons softly, caressing your ass again. Her cool hands against your stinging skin and the short respite lets your muscles relax just slightly. 

“Yes,” you sigh. 

Her hands pull away and you have a moment of nothing before she spanks you with both hands. It’s the hardest yet and you cry out. Everything inside you is throbbing but the spank seemed final—maybe it is. 

“Are you going to get drunk two days before a test again?” she repeats and you don’t hesitate before shaking your head frantically. 

“No—no, I promise, I’ll be good,” you say insistently.

Agatha’s hands rest on your ass, lightly kneading the sore skin. There’s a thrill that runs through you at the thought of having her handprint imprinted on you. Even though you have your underwear still on, you think there’s a chance you could have something leftover. 

She moves her fingers up to fix your skirt—a flash of disappointment hits you that she’s not delving into your panties—and then she pats your lower back. 

You push yourself up onto your elbows and then to your hands and then turn around to face your professor.

Agatha reaches out to cup your tear-streaked cheek and you take in the wild, hungry look in her eyes, the redness in her face, the vein that’s fully throbbing now. 

She pulls you toward her and wraps her arms around you in an embrace. You collapse against her steady frame and tears fall from your eyes for an entirely different reason. 

“Are you okay?” she asks and you nod against her. Her breasts are pushed against yours and you inhale her scent deeply. She strokes your hair gently. “You did so good for me, honey. You’re such a good girl.” 

But the effect of the praise and the spanking and being this close to her is getting to you and you shift, almost unconsciously, so her thigh is positioned between yours. The weight against your clit forces a muffled groan out of your mouth and it feels like your body is vibrating with need. 

Agatha realizes what you’re trying to do before you even really start and she tuts before stepping back. Your mouth drops at the loss of stimulation and Agatha clucks her tongue. “That isn’t how this works, hon. You learned your lesson. That’s all you get for right now, until you earn more.” 

The urge to cry rolls over you and you want to stomp your foot. But that’s probably a good way to get another spanking. “But—” you start desperately, trying to think of some way that doesn’t end with you having to leave right now, “what about you?” 

“What about me?” she asks, drawing out the words one by one. 

“You don’t have to touch me, but can I touch you?” you ask, praying that she doesn’t see it as another reward for you. You give her your best doe eyes and turn your lip out. “You look like you need it. Let me be your good girl.”

Agatha thinks about it. “No,” she decides and your face falls. A thin smile plays on her lips. “But…since you were a really good girl and you took your punishment very well, I guess I could give you something.” 

Your mouth starts to salivate. 

She jerks her head over to the corner where two bookshelves meet. “Get on your knees over there and face the wall.” 

Heart pounding in your throat, you nod as you tremble and then slowly turn to walk over. You drop to your knees again and the carpet burns but you hardly even register. 

What is she going to do to you? Make you stay here all day? 

How is this a reward? 

But then you hear it and you whimper. 

The buckle of her belt. 

The sliding of it out of her belt loops. 

The unzipping of her pants. 

A moment of quiet rustling and then a sigh. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Agatha’s touching herself right now. With you right here. And you’re not allowed to watch or help or touch her in any way. This might be a worse punishment than the spanking. 

But you get to hear her at least. 

You don’t dare say a word because you don’t know the rules; instead, you read the titles on the book spines on the shelf and try to ignore how hot your face is getting. 

She’s rather silent for the most part, just a heavy exhale every now and then, but if you strain your ears hard enough, you think you can hear the sound of her wetness. 

And then there’s a squelch and you moan quietly. Is that her sliding a finger into herself? 

You shift to give your right knee a break and then switch. You want to peek more than anything—what would she do? 

But your ass still burns brilliantly and you don’t want to push her even more. You just wish there was something you could do. 

“Maybe, if you had behaved last night, you’d be the one doing this to me right now,” Agatha says wistfully and you whimper apathetically again. You twist your fingers into the fabric of your skirt and bite your lip. “Such a shame, really. You look so good on your knees.”

Another moan rips itself from your throat and you hear her breath hitch. Knowing that she’s affecting you this much is getting to her. 

“Please, please, Agatha,” you whine, plead, beg, “I want—please—”

She gasps, your desperation apparently a catalyst for her. You shift again and squeeze your thighs together, feeling the ruined fabric of your underwear sticking to your cunt. You want to turn around more than you want to breathe but you keep your eyes trained on the books. 

Personality Psychology: The Basics

Applied Behavior Analysis 

Handbook of Personality Disorders

Agatha sighs again and the words go blurry. Her breaths become shallower and shorter and the chair creaks every now and then and you picture her, just yards away, her hand down her pants, fingers inside in her pussy, fucking herself while she looks at you. 

At you on your knees for her in the corner after she spanked your ass raw. 

Your muscles are really starting to hurt now from the position you’ve been stuck in, but you can still hear Agatha so you can’t move. 

“Fuck,” she mumbles and it makes your brain short-circuit. Your mouth and eyes are both watering and you feel like you’re going to explode. 

“Agatha,” you pant and she inhales sharply—she likes when you talk. She likes when you use your words and it should’ve been so obvious. “Please, I want to taste you, I want to touch you, please, I need—I need you, Agatha, please—”

She moans, soft and quiet but unmistakable and you want that sound recorded so you can listen to it over and over until it’s all you ever hear again. 

"Agatha, please..."

“Oh, god,” she breathes and the world tilts underneath you. The chair squeaks again and you picture her head tossed back, hair falling over the back of her seat, face contorted with pleasure. 

Her heavy, ragged breathing fills the room but it calms down slowly and you’re shaking on your knees, your insides seared with a heat you haven’t felt before. Each time you’re with her, Agatha takes you to a new high and you wonder how long it’ll be before you reach the limit. 

Is there a limit? 

“You can get up now,” she tells you, her voice hoarse and raspy. You grab onto a shelf to pull yourself off your knees and your legs straighten with loud pops. It takes a moment to get blood back but you’re able to stagger around to look at her. 

Agatha is slouched in her chair, her hand still inside her unzipped pants. Her face is flushed but she looks satisfied and she hungrily rakes her dark eyes over you. 

You take two steps toward her before she takes her hand out of her pants and stands up. You watch her come closer, feeling vaguely like you’re in a dream with how your head is spinning. 

She raises her hand and your breath catches—she places her middle and ring finger of her left hand against your lips. Your eyes meet hers as you open your mouth and let her slip her fingers in. 

You lap at her wetness, moaning at the hot and sweet taste of her. A burst of heat tears through you again, adding to the already flaring fire in your cunt and you need her to touch you. 

Agatha pushes her fingers further down your throat and she smirks when you gag slightly. 

“Good girl,” she hums, voice low. Her perfume swirls around you and you think you might fall to your knees again. 

Her fingers slip out of your mouth with a pop and you lick your lips before beseeching, “Please, Agatha, can—”

“No,” she says and it’s final. Your face falls again but she pats you on the chin and gives you a crooked smile. “Now that you learned your lesson, you should go get some studying in. You lost a whole evening yesterday.” 

“How—I—you—” you stutter. You know that she just came, but how is she able to slip back into the mask so well? Meanwhile, you’re a complete mess. If she’s not going to touch you now, you’re about to run into the bathroom down the hall to take care of yourself because there’s no way you’re getting anything done. 

“You’ll figure it out, honey,” she says and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. You lean in for another but she rebuffs you, strolling away to sit back at her desk. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Let me know if you need any help with anything.” 

It’s a dismissal if you’ve ever heard one and you gape at her for a few seconds before nodding to yourself. “So if I do well tomorrow…”

She looks up from her desk and raises an eyebrow. “Yes, honey, I suspect you’ll finally get what you want then.” 

“What we both want?” you suggest.

“What we both want,” Agatha agrees with a wink. “You can leave the door open.” 

You stare at her for just a moment as if you’re memorizing what she looks like in the afterglow of her orgasm and then pick up your tote bag from the floor. 

There’s no one out in the hallway as you exit and you can’t help but be thankful because you think leaving a professor’s office looking this disheveled might raise some alarms. 

Your first class starts in about two hours now, so you’ll go to the campus library to study after the bathroom. 

In general psychology, you learned about motivation, specifically the Expectancy Theory, which suggests that motivation is driven by an individual’s belief that effort will lead to desired outcomes. 

Studying hard will lead to a good grade which will lead you to Agatha. 

Has she just been testing that theory too?

——

At nine on the dot the next morning, Agatha passes out the exams. She saves yours for last and when you reach out your hand, her fingers brush against yours. 

“Good luck,” she murmurs, giving you a quick wink before walking back to sit at her desk. 

You don’t remember the last time you’ve been this nervous for a test but when you look at it, you feel relief sink into your bones. You know this stuff. 

The multiple choice are easy and you breeze through all thirty, only getting caught on one here and there. But you reason it out and feel confident with your answer. 

The study guide was helpful, but you think just paying attention in class would have been enough. You’re not really sure how so many people fail this class. Even the questions about the biological approach aren’t too tough. 

When you get to the short answers, you glance up at Agatha and you find, with a jolt, that she’s watching you. She gives you an encouraging nod and you bite your lip before shifting in your chair and wincing at the soreness in your ass. She smirks like she’s proud of it, even though it was really hard for you to pretend like everything was fine yesterday when you ate lunch and dinner with Nat and Wanda while sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chairs in the dining hall. 

You turn back to the exam before you get too distracted. 

Explain the difference between objective tests and projective tests and give at least two examples of each. 

The memory of Agatha with the Rorschach cards in her office the second day of class flashes in your mind and makes your cheeks heat up while you start writing. 

It doesn’t take you long to answer that. You look around and see that everyone else is still on the first or second page of the multiple choice. One girl has her head in her hands and one boy looks like he’s just circling random answer choices. 

Meanwhile, you’re on the last one. 

Explain what neurotransmitters and hormones are. Give examples of both and their functions. Name the three main sources of hormones. 

This one takes a bit more thinking to answer and the frown on your face deepens when you get to the last part. You know the hypothalamus and adrenal glands—what’s the last one?

Fuck. 

You sneak another look at Agatha, who is tossing her hair back over her shoulder with her hand. 

The gonads. Yes, that’s it. 

You scribble it down quickly and then go through the test again, double-checking all your answers. 

It’s over. 

It all comes down to this. 

Exhaling slowly, you stand up and walk over to hand your test to her. She raises her eyebrow at you, silently asking how it went, and you give her a tight smile. Even though you feel like you knew mostly everything, there’s the irrational fear that you somehow got them all wrong. 

Agatha takes your test and you go back to your seat, your heart pounding so loud you half expect one of your classmates to complain. You watch your professor click her blue ballpoint pen and she goes through your exam. 

Her mouth twitches and she makes a mark for each question—a check mark or an x? She turns to the next page and does the same thing. The suspense is creeping up your throat and you want to leave the room because you can’t take it. 

Finally, she gets to the last page and her eyes scan your answer. She suppresses a smile and hope rises in you. 

And then she looks at you. Her blue eyes meet yours and you feel like you might throw up. 

Agatha nods, the corners of her mouth quirking up. 

You passed. 

Part Fourteen

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1 @500daysofmarissa @filmedbyharkness @autbot @claramelooo @dandelions4us @agathaallalongg @jujuu23 @21cannibal @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @jeridandridge @hannibalcanniballz @chloeelou02x @hapuchika @xblinkx2 @xanthreee @tobeawriter98 @warpdrive-witch

[fluoneia]

mornings with jinx are relatively quiet. she wasn’t much of a morning person, you realized that when your relationship was first starting and you tried to drag her out of bed before ten and she threw a smoke bomb because she was still fully out of it.

so, you found yourself slowly staying in bed longer, and longer, mostly because jinx was just so clingy.

you read your book in peaceful silence, hands running through her scalp of, long, long blue, unbraided hair that fell off the side of the bed.

you smile as you glance down. jinx had nuzzled her head against your chest, arms gripping onto your waist. her brows are furrowed.

you frown. was she having a bad dream?

“hey.” you whisper, settling your book down. you see her face twitch, face cringing into anger. her arms tighten around you. “jinx.” you say quietly, running a hand back over her hair.

jinx gasps awake. she’s sweating bullets, looking anywhere but you. she glances behind her with a gasp, arms clawing around her body, touching her palm onto her cheek, running it over her nose and looking at her hand.

“hey, hey..” you hum, placing your hand over hers. “it’s okay. it was just a bad dream.”

“but, i.. but i thought—“ she glances around her. “shut up! i’m not talking to you!”

you glance toward her left shoulder, and nothing is there.

“what’s wrong? what happened?” you move to cradle her face, one hand running through her hair, taking the tangles.

she looks back to you. her pink eyes soften.

then, she leans into your touch. her eyes close, and her hands cradle yours.

you let out a sigh of relief. “come here,” you say softly, opening your arms. jinx hesitates, but wraps her arms and legs around you, like an adorable koala, and rests her chin on your shoulder.

you hum, bringing your arms around her waist, running a soothing hand down her back.

you were used to her night terrors by now. being in a relationship for around six months caused you to see it often. she had a troubled past— you knew that. but, you didn’t know it affected her this much.

“it’s alright.” you mutter against her skin, tucking your face into her neck.

and her entire body dissolved.

her hands tighten on the clothes of your back. she lets out a long huff of breath.

“sorry you have to deal with all my bullshit.” jinx laughs a breathy laugh.

you shake your head. “that’s why i’m here, isn’t it?” you smile, “besides, all your bullshit is why i lo—..”

you stop yourself. you realize you’d never said i love you to her.

jinx pulls away with a sudden movement. she grabs your face, bringing you so close your noses were touching.

“what were you gonna say?” she cocks a brow, eyes gleaming. she’s been waiting for you to say those words to her.

you blink. then, you close your eyes with a snort. “i love you.” you mutter.

jinx gasps in excitement, before crashing her lips against yours, kissing you over and over, kissing your cheeks.

“you love me?” she damn giggled. “say it again.”

“i love you. big dummy.” you squeal as she tackled you further, her entire body buzzing with excitement. “jinx! get off me!”

“never. you’re never escaping me!” jinx says as she showers you with more and more kisses.

“you’re insufferable!” you laugh as her hands move to tickle at your stomach. you yelp, squirming away from her touch.

and slowly, she stops. she rests her palms beside your head, hovering over you. you brush her hair so it’s not dangling in your face, tucking it behind her ear.

“do you.. actually love me?” jinx says under her breath.

“no, i’ve just been dating you for six months and said i love you as a joke.” i deadpan. jinx tightens her lips.

“har-har.” she says with a glare.

then, you smile. “yes, i really do love you.” you say, tilting your head up. she gasped as your lips touched hers, hand holding the back of her head to push her deeper.

“i love you.” you whisper, placing a hand on her hip and flipping her over. you hover over jinx, “i love you,” you repeat as you kiss down her jaw, kissing against her racing pulse.

“it.. it’s seven in the morning.” jinx swallows.

“so?”

and then, the door is slammed wide open. i turn to look who it was, eyes relaxing as i saw it was isha.

“isha!” jinx exclaims, “you damn cockblocker!”

osha’s brows furrow, her head tilting at the word cockblocker.

“oh—! it.. it means really nice person.” you give her a smile, before glaring at jinx. jinx huffs. “come on. let’s go make breakfast.

“but—!”

“get up, you big baby.” you push off the bed, grabbing both her wrists and dragging her away from the bed.

“noo..” jinx cries, deflating against the pillow. you laugh as isha grabs jinx’s foot, pulling her off the bed with one last yelp as jinx lands on the floor.

“you two team up on me too much!” jinx cries. she stands with a cute little hmph!

“i’ll make your favourite breakfast if you stop being such a baby.”

jinx makes a long, dramatic groan. “fine!” she cries.

“that’s the spirit.”

a/n. for @bumbleskunks <3 i burned my pizza making this ask so it better be worth it >:(

[cheriladycl01]

Kinktober 18/10/2024 Max Verstappen - Mutual Masturbation

Plot: You and Max too tired to actually do anything, decide that mutual masturbation is the way to go after a tricky race weekend.

Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, mutual masturbation, fingering, handjob, 18+ Minors DNI

You and Max were a very clingy couple, it was rarer to see you not at a race weekend than to see you at one. You were always there supporting Max and cheering him on, and for the most part you guys had loads of energy interacting with fans and being helpful to the team.

However triple-headers normally took it out of you both, especially ones where it was far travel in between and maybe some time zone difference.

But you always supported Max.

You were there though his highest highs and his lowest lows and that just so happened to be today. A very low low. It was Max worst performance in his career. There wasn’t great communication, the car didn’t feel right and Max had struggled the whole race, not moving up any places from his Qualifying Result of P11.

He’d gotten no points, and ended up behind Yuki Tsunoda who’d defended from him brilliantly for the entire race.

When Max came out, after driving the car for 2 hours and all of the media commitments and team jobs he had to conduct afterwards you both got on his private jet pretty done with the day.

You got home to Monaco, and you were both really silent which was kinda rare for Max. Despite what most people think this man can talk for hours, especially to you when you are such a good listening and love the sound of his husky and burnt sort of voice when he spoke both English and Dutch.

You guys had a routine that was never changed no matter how tired you guys were once you got back from a race weekend.

Step one: Get the cases into the house.

Step two Part A: Max separates clean from dirty into piles

Step two Part B: You take the shoes and toiletries and dish them out to where they need to go.

Step three Part A: Max puts a wash on

Step three Part B: You take the clean clothes up and hang them in the wardrobe or fold into draws.

Step four Part A: Max hoovers, Jimmy and Sassy, and then your British Shorthair Lila have all been there moulting in the summer heat.

Step four Part B: You wash out the cat bowls and place down new food

Step five: Make dinner together

And that was how you always did it. You always each took those chores and got on with them. Usually you spoke to each other across the apartment while you were doing it but this time a comfortable silence was with you apart from the cat interruptions every now and then.

After that you guys let the dishes in the sink before alternating showering and getting ready for bed. You both climbed into the fresh bed with the nice sheets rather than the hotel sheets that regardless of the hotel rating always seemed to make you feel kind of odd.

Usually at this stage Max would turn on a film before fucking you into the bed, you clutching into the pillow that your face is smushed against while he thrusts in and out of you deeply.

But tonight with how silent the pair of you were it was obvious neither of you had the energy to fully commit to that.

“Schatz…” he says softly and you look away from the film he’d just put on opposite you bed, a classic you’d watched many times that was sort of just background noise.

“Mmmmmm? What is it?” You smile at him kindly, pulling the quilt up around you some more.

“Well, I just thought that maybe we could relieve some tension” he says still just as softly, a quiet hint to his voice. You almost groan not having the energy to get in top and ride him, which usually happened after these race weekends as his legs, back and arms were physically just as tired as his mind was.

“Argh baby not tonight … I know usually I’m more energetic but I can’t tonight” you say looking at him with a guilty look and he turns away with a flushed and embarrassed look on his face.

“Oh- okay” he says nodding and tucking the cover over him.

You guys sit and watch the film, you lean into him his arm loosely coming behind you as you naturally pulls yourself in closer to him. After the day of silence it was nice just embracing one another in bed.

“Hey I’m sorry I just have no energy tonight it’s not you” you say reaching out to hold his hand that’s above the blanket but knock against something hard causing him to moan out.

You lightly pull the covers away seeing him rock solid underneath. He tries to pull the covers back up, but your grip is strong.

“Max baby why didn’t you say” you try to stifle your laugh.

“Because your not in the mood and we’re both too tired” he sighs pressing his legs together and trying to alleviate the growing need down low.

“How about something else baby, it won’t take up too much energy from either of us” you whisper helping him pull his boxers down seeing his whole dick spring up and slap his bear stomach. He moans as the cold air hits him and you use your hand going up and down.

“Ah ah ah” he moans.

“Now you take over baby” you say and he does taking himself in his hand. Your hand goes into your underwear teasing your clit the way you knew you liked. Your fingers rub against that nub and you moan.

“Fuck Max” you moan and look to your left to look at him only to see him already looking at you. His eyes travel from your eyes down to where your fingers enter your dripping wet core.

You reach out a hand as you hear the fapping sound that Max is making with his fist tightening around his length and going quicker the more you moan.

“So pretty Schatz, fuck lemme see pull them panties off” he groans and you do as your told pulling them off and chucking them to the end of the bed. You spread your legs show Max your fingers thrusting in and out, a scissoring motion as you feel the spongey wall. You free hand reaches out gripping Max thighs as your mouth drops open, you repeating his name as you can feel the coil build up further and further.

His free hand reaches down and starts to rub circles on your clit as he tightens his grip on his own dick going faster than before.

“Fuck Schatz, such a good idea” he moans as before you know it he’s cumming, the stream hitting his lower stomach as his hips lightly lurch up. You cum shortly after him, the release making you relax back into the pillows.

“I think that should be our new go too” he groans, taking tissue from the bedside table cleaning himself up.

“When we’re tired?” You ask with a nod.

“Whenever, that was really hot” he smiles before pulling you into a kiss.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!yoongi (9) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist

note: sorry this update took forever !!! enj <3

//

there are no words that can describe how incredibly awkward you feel when you wake up.

last night—after you and yoongi crossed that unspoken line and messed around—you two ended up tangled together.

it’s strange because in between soft touches and sleepy murmurs—you actually got to know him in ways you never expected.

you recall it all.

his quiet voice filling the spaces between the darkness and your hushed breathing so you could hear every tone, every word, and every breath of his crystal clear. 

yoongi told you stories and confessions that slipped out between shallow breaths. childish yet meaningful things he probably didn’t even realize he was saying.

you remember him murmuring about the way his mom used to hold his hand when he couldn’t fall asleep as a kid, or how he swore he’d never own a fish again because when he was 11 years old... he had 14 goldfishes and they all died one by one 2 weeks later.

he swears it wasn't his fault.

you tell him you believe him.

(you really do.)

he also talks about his quiet love for early mornings, how at peace he feels when he’s the only one awake in a still-sleeping world. in that half-dazed vulnerability, yoongi let you in. 

just enough for you to see a side of him you hadn’t expected, a part that was softer, quieter, more open.

then, you two talked about baby injeolmi.

how you two don't really care about the gender and just want a healthy baby. so much so that you both agreed to not know the gender and to just be surprised on the day of. oh, and how you do want a baby shower and think hye mi is already plotting that...

then, you two talked about the moving in thing again.

that's when you pretended to go to sleep and actually fell asleep. yoongi only laughed at you, fully knowing that you're just nervous. you're moving in one way or another.

he knows it.

you know it...

but aside from the way the talk ended; it went well.

no, the talk wasn’t everything…

but it was something. 

now, with the morning light filtering through the blinds, reality started to seep back in.

the familiar awkwardness of two people who shared more than they’d planned. you can feel his warmth beside you, his hand still loosely draped over your waist, and a twinge of nervousness fluttered in your stomach.

you glance at him, expecting him to be asleep. but then, his eyes blinked open, groggy but sharp enough to catch the slight flush in your cheeks. 

still half-asleep, his voice rough as he mumbles, “hi…”

for a second, neither of you move, as if lingering in that quiet, unguarded space between sleep and reality. suddenly aware of the intimacy, he clears his throat, his gaze softening but pulling back just a bit.

you offer him a shy smile, feeling the weight of everything unsaid between you.

“a-about last night…”

he chuckles softly, rubbing a hand over his face. “yeah… last night…”

then, he pauses to gather his words.

“wait, are you talking about me yapping or me sucking your tits?”

none. you’re talking about pretending to fall asleep regardless, your shy smile breaks as you burst into laughter. he joins your laughter and sighs. 

“i mean, are we gonna talk about any of it or is acknowledging it good enough for now? i don’t know if i’m awake enough for the conversation but i will be if you want to—”

“all good,” you assure him. “i don’t know where i was going with any of it. i guess i just wanted… to know if you—”

“i liked it,” he tells you, not digging any deeper. “you getting to know me, me sucking your tits—all of it.”

as promised, yoongi takes you to the baby store. 

your eyes light up the minute you step foot in it. it’s then that yoongi remembers exactly who he’s having this baby with. 

you and your fucking babyfever. 

the baby store is a mix of pastel colors, tiny clothes, and gentle lullabies playing over the speakers. yoongi trails behind you as you wander through the aisles. one hand resting on the cart as he pushes it along, his eyes constantly flicking to you with a quiet, thoughtful focus.

though you two are pretty good at communicating—the whole physical affection part? that’s still a little wonky. for instance, every time you pause to examine something, yoongi is right there, his hand slipping gently around your waist to guide you to the next aisle or just to linger beside you. it’s so subtle that, at first, you think it’s an accident, a reflex. 

but then it keeps happening.

at first, it throws you off—his casual closeness.

the way he stays so near, like a shadow. you’re not used to this kind of attention from him.. this quiet and steady affection. but strangely enough, you find that you don’t mind it. in fact, there’s something comforting about the way he stays close, attentive to your every move.

when you stop to touch a soft little onesie covered in tiny clouds, yoongi doesn’t even hesitate. he reaches over, gently taking it from your hands and adding it to the cart without a word. 

you shoot him a questioning look, but he only shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips as if to say, whatever you want.

“yoongi, you know you don’t have to buy everything i touch, right?” you remind him, glancing at the growing pile in the cart.

yoongi just chuckles, unbothered, and places his hand on your waist again as you reach the aisle full of toys. his touch is warm and grounding, making it hard to argue with him.

“you’re not carrying any of it home, so relax,” he says with a smile that’s both charming and final. “i like this shit too. they’re cute or whatever—”

then, your fingertips brush as you both reach for a soft, star-patterned onesie. he lets go first, letting you hold onto the onesie.

“this one’s cute,” you say softly, running your thumb along the fabric. then, you bite back a small smile when you realizes yoongi hasn’t moved his hand from your waist.

“yeah,” he murmurs, nodding. his voice is softer than usual, but before you can read into it, he takes the onesie and tosses it into the cart. then he grabs a few more items without asking you, each time ignoring your attempts to peek at the price tags.

“yoongi..."

"what?"

"are you serious?"

he looks at you blankly. "don't we need these things?"

you nod but give him a stern look. "yeah, but we can't buy out the whole store."

"why not?"

"first of all, that's insane... and second of all—a-are you just—"

you reach for a soft, stuffed rabbit, just curious to feel it, and—predictably—he plucks it right out of your hands, tossing it into the cart.

"you are."

"i'm what?"

"seriously?" you huff, barely holding back a grin. “you’re not even letting me decide if i want it. you're tossing it in just because i touched it.”

he remains unbothered by your protests. 

“what if i just think you have good taste?” he says, glancing at you with a hint of mischief. 

and with that, he gives you a gentle nudge, guiding you further down the aisle with that warm hand still resting at your side.

“are you saying that just to flatter yourself?”

“what do i have to do with this?”

“well, you’re my type and my babydaddy—”

“i’m your type?” yoongi tilts his head at you. "good to know..."

you blush, eyes wide from embarrassment. before you can make up some excuse to save face, he leans in and playfully pinches your waist.

“you're my type too, mama.”

you clear your throat and redirect the conversation.

"s-should we pick a crib?"

yoongi gestures his hand for you to lead the way.

as you begin to walk, you turn your head and send him a glare.

"... and be serious about this part, okay? this is the crib we're picking out. read the packaging and make your judgement. i'm gonna end up choosing the prettiest one that might not function as well as the ugly one... so, can i trust your taste on this?"

yoongi nods, pushing the cart with a steady, unhurried pace, his hand resting casually on the handle.

“you can trust me,” he says, his voice low and sincere.

... and so, you do.

you trust him.

when you reach the checkout, you step forward to pay but—

yoongi slips right past you.

casually handing over his card to the cashier before you even get a chance. you cross your arms and narrow your eyes at him, watching as he signs the receipt, completely unbothered.

the total is easily above $3,000. 

he meets your gaze with a look that’s almost playful, his expression all wide-eyed innocence, as if he hadn’t just ignored your efforts.

"yoongi," you begin, voice firm. “we’re both injeolmi's parents, and it’s not fair for you to pay for everything. at least let me pay half—”

he doesn’t respond right away, just nods patiently, his attention focused on gathering the bags the cashier hands him. his face is calm, listening but clearly not swayed. he loads a big box containing the crib into the cart, then places the bags filled with tiny clothes, blankets, and toys right beside it, adjusting them carefully.

you press on, leaning slightly forward, hoping to get through to him.

“we’re both responsible here... i know i'm not a nurse practitioner like you, but it's not like i can’t contribute, you know—"

“i know.”

yoongi glances over his shoulder at you, his mouth quirking in the faintest smile as he stacks the last bag. he seems unbothered by your scolding, more amused than anything.

“this is my baby too and i feel uncomfortable letting you do this much—”

finally, he turns to you, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair back from your cheek in a gesture so casual it nearly makes you forget your own irritation. 

“do what? provide?”

you're tongue tied.

“all done? feel better, mama?” he asks, his tone light, but his eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief. “if not, go ahead. say what you want. say what you need to say. i’m listening.”

you let out a small huff, crossing your arms more tightly, trying to stay serious.

“you’re not paying for everything, yoongi.”

he raises one eyebrow, his expression softening but still unwavering. 

“i am. i did.” he shrugs, nonchalantly. it feels like he’s teasing you even though he isn’t. “___, i’m all done with this topic now. are you?”

“no, actually, i—” you start, feeling your frustration build.

“great,” he interrupts, his smile spreading into a grin that makes your heart skip. 

he reaches down, taking your hand in his, his grip gentle yet firm, and begins to guide you toward the exit, leaving you no room to protest. 

his thumb rubs lightly over your knuckles as he holds your hand, a grounding gesture that calms you, even as he completely ignores your point. 

“let’s go home,” he says softly, his voice warm, as though it’s the simplest decision in the world.

home.

following yoongi inside his condo, the familiar sight of his place tugging at something inside you. 

it’s been a while since you’ve been here. the memories of that night still linger like a quiet hum in the back of your mind, but you push them aside. 

focus on the present. 

focus on the baby.

he leads you through the hallways, and you try to ignore the way your pulse quickens as you walk past his bedroom. you know it’s silly—nothing’s changed here. but still, the weight of the space feels different, heavier now. maybe it’s because this time, you’re here for something else. 

this time, it’s about the baby.

and the fact that you’ll be moving in soon… fuck, your mind begins to spin.

then, yoongi stops in front of a door, his hand resting lightly on the handle. he opens it slowly, stepping aside to let you in. 

“this is the guest room,” he says, but you can tell he’s hesitating, like he’s waiting for your reaction. “soon to be baby injeolmi’s room…”

you step inside, your gaze instantly drawn to the empty space. it’s clean, quiet, the pale walls untouched by time or use. the sunlight pours in from the window, making the room feel warmer, but it’s still just a room. 

there’s nothing personal about it. 

nothing that belongs to anyone yet.

but you can already picture it—nursery furniture, soft colors, the quiet hum of a baby’s lullaby filling the air. you glance back at him, noting the careful expression on his face. he’s watching you, waiting for your approval. waiting for your thoughts, even if you’re not sure what to say. you wonder if he’s nervous too, if this feels as strange to him as it does to you.

for a moment, your mind drifts to that night—the night everything changed. 

the night you slept together. 

the night you felt something more than just friendship between you two. the way his touch felt, the way his lips lingered on yours, and how quickly it all faded into the awkward silence the next morning.

"i also made space for your things in my room. i'm not finished clearing out my all shit but i will be by next week. does that sound okay?"

"huh?" you blink. "n-next week?"

yoongi nods.

"i think i gave you enough time to think things over... and don't act like this is a surprise. i brought it up last night. you pretended to sleep."

your eyes widen.

"i—"

"move in with me next week," yoongi says. "... you can pretend to sleep mid conversation in my bed from now on."

by an hour and half in, you and yoongi have filled the space with scattered remnants of baby gear—boxes, parts of cribs, and the disassembled pieces of a changing table. they all lay haphazardly across the floor. 

it’s oddly comforting.

the clutter somehow feels like a soft reminder of the chaos and excitement that’s about to come.

yoongi is kneeling on the floor, tools in hand, as he begins to assemble the crib, the sound of metal and wood clicking together filling the otherwise quiet room.

you lean against the doorway, arms crossed, watching him work with a careful, focused precision. his brow is furrowed, his jaw clenched as he concentrates on each piece. his sleeves are rolled up, revealing forearms that make it hard to focus on anything else. you swallow, not bothering to hide the way your eyes drift to the muscle in his arms as he works.

and then, almost instinctively, he looks up at you, his gaze meeting yours as if he can feel your eyes on him.

“baby injeolmi’s clothes need to be washed,” he says, his voice low but firm, his hands already reaching for another tool. “you want to do this 50/50? fine. but i don’t want you getting hurt.”

you push off the doorframe, rolling your eyes as you walk toward him, crossing your arms over your chest. 

you’re not used to him treating you like you’re made of glass, but you get where he’s coming from. still, it doesn’t sit well with you.

“i’m pregnant but i’m not fragile,” you argue. “i can help you with the crib—“

he doesn’t budge, his jaw tightening as he focuses on the task at hand. 

“humor me then,” he says, his tone patient, but there’s an underlying edge of stubbornness that makes it clear this isn’t up for debate.

you’re about to argue further, but the way he’s working—so effortlessly, so damn focused—has you momentarily silent. the way his arms flex as he screws the pieces together, the tension in his shoulders, the occasional glance up to check in on you—it all just feels so... domestic, and so right in this moment.

you step back a little, your breath catching as you take in the scene. yoongi, with his sleeves pushed up, lost in his work, looks so different from the guy you met—still him, but somehow more.

more... grounded. more steady.

your gaze lingers, unable to pull away.

your cheeks heat, a strange flutter in your chest as you realize you’ve been staring too long. When Yoongi catches your eye, his expression unreadable for a split second, you scramble to regain your composure.

“i’ll, uh…” you quickly clear your throat, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment. “i’ll get started on baby’s laundry. do you have clothes that need to be washed too? i can do a load—i mean… fuck—y-you know what? how about i make us some lunch first? yeah. i’ll do that.” you say, quickly backing away before your feelings get the best of you.

your steps are hurried as you leave the room, but you can still feel the heat in your face, the warmth of his gaze following you as you retreat.

yet, the image of him—focused, strong, and all yours—lingers, and you can’t help but smile to yourself as you step into the kitchen.

in the kitchen, you decide to keep it simple yet comforting. 

something easy to share, nothing too fancy. you settle on making caprese chicken sandwiches with a side of fresh fruit and chips. 

you finish grilling the chicken and layer it on the toasted ciabatta. you add slices of fresh mozzarella, letting it melt slightly, then pile on thick tomato slices and fresh basil leaves. a drizzle of balsamic glaze finishes it off before you top it with the other half of the bread, pressing it together gently when yoongi walks in. 

without a word, he leans against the counter beside you, his presence as familiar as the scent of the meal. he doesn’t wait for you to finish; instead, he picks up a melon slice and takes a bite.

“can’t you wait two seconds?” you laugh, nudging him playfully with your elbow.

yoongi just grins, completely unbothered. he takes another bite.

“fruit always taste better when moms cut them,” he says, his voice teasing but laced with that quiet sincerity of his. “oh, should i say milf? or is that jungkook’s line?”

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

the way he stands there, so effortlessly himself, makes your chest tighten in a way you didn’t expect. he’s always been like this—comfortable, confident, and somehow, when he’s this close, it feels like everything else fades away.

as he pulls away, you notice a small smudge of melon juice on the corner of his lips. without thinking, you reach up to wipe it away, your thumb brushing softly against his skin. the movement feels natural, almost automatic, but something about the intimacy of it makes your heart flutter. you don’t hesitate, bringing your thumb to your mouth to clean it off.

“mhmm,” you moan. “tastes sweet.”

then, the moment freezes.

yoongi stares at you, eyes wide, as if he’s seeing you for the first time, like the simple action has somehow shifted everything. the air between you thickens, and suddenly, it feels like there’s more than just the space in the kitchen separating you.

you stand still, unsure of what to do next. 

your eyes lock, and in that second, something unspoken passes between you. it’s not just the closeness or the warmth of the kitchen—it’s a pull, an undeniable magnetism that makes your chest tighten and your breath catch.

yoongi’s gaze drops to your lips, and you can feel the tension, the quiet yearning between you both. his hand twitches slightly at his side, like he wants to reach for you, but he’s holding back, waiting for you to make the first move.

and just as you’re about to lean in, your belly gives a sudden flutter.

you gasp, your eyes widening in surprise, and instinctively, you reach for his hand, pressing it gently to your belly. 

“oh my god.”

“what?”

“yoongi… i think… here—”

you hold your breath, waiting, and then—

there it is again. 

a small, unmistakable kick.

yoongi’s eyes light up with awe, his fingers curling slightly around your hand as he feels it, a slow smile spreading across his face. he doesn’t say anything at first, just stands there, his eyes fixed on your stomach, filled with wonder and something deeper that you can’t quite place.

you squeeze his hand, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you both.

“did you feel that?” you whisper, a smile tugging at your lips. 

yoongi looks up at you, his eyes softer now, holding something deeper than the simple wonder of the moment. 

the air around you two has shifted into something more intimate. then, his gaze flickers to your face, his heart fluttering in his chest as he steps a little closer, his thumb gently brushing over your hand.

… and as he looks into your eyes, his pulse quickens. 

it’s not just the baby’s kick he feels—it’s this quiet, undeniable pull between you two. his chest tightens with the weight of it, and for a moment; this is everything to him. 

everything.

he gulps as he soaks in your presence and sinks into the idea feeling of love beginning. then, slowly and then all at once; he accepts it. 

“yeah,” yoongi says, tone warm and ever so sure. “i feel it.”

as you look up to meet his eyes, yoongi’s lips tug into a smile. dipping his head low, he kisses you.

[keirareidss]

learning together - s.r

♡ summary: neither of you know what you're doing but you can learn together pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: pure innocent fluff nothing more nothing less :) wc: 1.7k request here

You never thought you'd get this far. Being in a relationship with Spencer was like nothing you'd ever experienced (because you hadn't) and you were surprised you made it this long. It was his first relationship as well and sure, you'd both kissed other people before but being committed to another person is a whole new level.

You'd asked him out, approaching him on his way out from work and asking him to dinner. He said yes and, though your first few dates had been cancelled by the inevitable case coming in, you official first date was perfect. Perfect in the sense that you both had an amazing time.

In reality, a lot had gone wrong on the date. You went to dinner and spilled spaghetti sauce on your nice blouse, then, with Spencer's jacket on, you took a nice walk in the park where Spencer fell in the fountain.

Soaking wet and stained red, the two of you went back to your apartment. You let him in, offering him the shower and throwing his clothes in the dryer. Neither of you stopped to question whether it was normal or not for him to be in your apartment or using your shower on a first date.

You were doing what you wanted because you liked each other and you were choosing to live in the moment. Cheesy, right?

-

"Do you think this is weird?"

"Do I think what's weird?" You asked, your fingers trailing down his nose. You were both on your couch, you slouched against the armrest, Spencer laying fully on his back, his head in your lap. You were absentmindedly touching him, hands in his hair, fingertips tracing every inch of his face, jaw, collarbones.

"Us. What we're doing, you know, like... how close we are for how long we've been together." Of course he was worried about that. Spencer was the type to want to make sure everything he did was the correct way to do that thing. He wanted to do friendships 'right', not talk about all his weird interests so much, get them the right gift on their birthday, that kind of thing. Of course he wanted to make sure he was doing it right with you.

"I don't know, Spence. I don't think there's a set rule of how long we have to be together before we can do things like this. I know you aren't normally touchy with everyone but doesn't the fact that you're comfortable right now, like this, say something?"

He pondered the thought. You were right, technically, he was comfortable with your touch. He didn't mind the feel of your hands on him.

"I guess so."

"If you want to slow down-"

"No!" He cleared his throat, a blush spreading up his neck to his cheeks. "No, no, I don't want to slow down. I like you." He tilted his head back so he was looking at you upside down. He gave you a small, goofy grin.

"Yeah?" He nodded, his smile growing. "I like you too."

Your first kiss was messy and clumsy and perfect. It was your third date and Spencer, ever the gentleman, walked you back to your apartment. You wanted to invite him upstairs but his unease about the pace of your relationship made you worried. You were afraid to scare him away.

"This is me." You said awkwardly, brushing your hair behind your ear.

"Tonight was fun."

"Yeah." You agreed and you both stood in a cumbersome silence. Neither of you wanted to leave yet. You glanced at Spencer and caught him staring at your lips. Angling your body more towards him, you stepped closer.

"Can I... May I kiss you?" Spencer asked nervously.

"Please." He leant down, his head tilting slightly. Slightly chapped lips met yours, moving softly. His hands awkwardly came up to cup your jaw, the kiss clumsy but passionate. Teeth and tongue clashing, heavy breaths filling the barest space between you.

Your back met the brick wall of your apartment building. Surely first kisses weren't meant to be this heavy right? You were supposed to start with little pecks and gradually move to biting lips and slipping tongue. But the way Spencer moaned softly into your mouth made you forget all about the way things were 'supposed to go'.

He pulled away when he realized how far it had gone, looking down at you. You pressed against the wall, chest heaving. You with your lip gloss smudged and your hair tousled. You. You.

"I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" You cut him off, pulling him down by his purple tie and crashing your lips against his once again.

"Don't apologize." You murmured against him, your arms winding around his neck. "You're perfect."

Maybe it didn't matter that it should have been too soon for the two of you to be doing this and maybe it didn't matter that you wanted more, so much more from him. Because this was your relationship. You never thought you'd get this far with him but then again, you never thought that he'd be this good of a kisser.

It was stupid. The whole thing was stupid. Your first fight as a couple was what you'd expect. You fought over a stupid subject, not even anything memorable. Halfway through the argument you'd both forgotten what you were yelling about (not literally, spencer knew what you were arguing about but you were so far into it that he didn't care anymore).

The fight lasted maybe 5 minutes but it felt like an hour. You both said mean things, you both raised your voice, and in the end, you stormed off, leaving Spencer in his living room as the front door to his apartment slammed behind you.

He realized almost immediately that it was pouring rain outside and you were out there with no umbrella, no jacket, nothing. He sprung off the couch, racing after you, snagging his umbrella by the door before he left.

He shouted your name, running onto the sidewalk. You weren't ten feet away from the apartment but he rushed to you, struggling to open the umbrella before holding it above your head. You shuffled closer to him so he could huddle under it as well.

"I'm sorry." He said, raising his voice to be heard over the storm.

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have yelled at you, it was so stupid." You called back.

"No, it's my fault. I was the one who started it." You went back and forth, trying to take the blame before he finally surged forward, kissing you. You stopped mid sentence, tilting your head back to make it easier on his neck. Like something out of a movie, the umbrella fell from his hand, the rain pouring down over the two of you as his grabbed your face.

He kissed you passionately for no more than 10 seconds before pulling away, remembering himself.

"We should go inside, we're going to get hypothermia." He said, bending to pick up his umbrella. You giggled, nodding and following him inside, keeping tucked to his side to stay under the umbrella.

For your first anniversary, one full month of being together, Spencer went all out. He wanted it to be special but, in all seriousness, he had no clue what he was doing. How big were you supposed to go for a one month anniversary? Did normal couples even celebrate that kind of thing or was it too insignificant to even bother giving a second thought?

Spencer didn't know. All he knew was that he gave it more than a second thought. He gave this event a third, fourth, a fifth thought. Frankly, it was all he could think about the week before.

With some planning, he made it really special. He learned how to cook your favorite meal, the one your mom always made you when you were a kid, he bought your favorite wine, lit some vanilla candles (ones that he had spent nearly an hour in the store for, probably looking like a maniac smelling all the candles to find the one that smelled most like your perfume).

He set it all up, finishing around ten minutes before you were supposed to come over. When he answered the door, you found him slightly disheveled, an adorable apron hanging from his neck and tied around his waist, his hair tousled from running his hands through it nervously.

"Hi!" He gave you a big grin. "You look really pretty. I like what you did with your hair."

"Thank you. Can I come in?" You grinned at his giddiness.

"Oh- yeah. Yes, come in." He stepped aside, ushering you in. He gently pulled your coat off for you, hanging it up.

"It smells good in here."

"Thanks, I- uh, I learned how to make that meal you like. I didn't burn anything this time." He led you to the dining room table, pulling out a chair for you.

"Look at you, mister romantic. I'm proud of you." You sat down in the chair, smiling up at him as he pushed you closer to the table. He took the apron off, tossing it on the counter before he sat across from you.

"It's not too much?"

"No, it's perfect."

"Really? I wasn't sure because I didn't know if we were supposed to celebrate this."

"Baby, I don't think there's anything we're supposed to or not supposed to do. We can literally do whatever we want."

"Yeah, you're right." He agreed, serving himself some of the delicious looking food he cooked for you. Turns out, his meal tasted just as good as it looked and when you finished, you helped him clean up, you washing dishes, him drying.

As you splashed water at him, giggling, he realized something. He was actually alright with not knowing what you were doing. He just wanted this. Whatever this was. Just you, and him, doing what you wanted because you were with each other. That's all he ever wanted.

Taglist: @superbeaglewitch, @perfectgoopfishuniversity-blog, totallynotabuckybarnessimp, @dramioneforevertilltheend. @cynbx, @diminombre

[galateaschild]

Smut headcanons: You’re both k-pop trainees and start sleeping with each other

Male K-pop Trainee!Oc x Male K-pop Trainee!Reader

Warnings: Oc and Reader are 19, bottom!reader, top!oc, loss of virginity, fingering (spit as lube), hand jobs, blow job, anal sex, mentions of taking pictures of + filming sexual activity, unprotected sex (practice safe sex everyone!).

Prompt: You and your dormmate begin getting intimate…

(A/n: Very niche reference but MSA Entertainment is the same as Doona’s in the k-drama ”DOONA”)

~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~

• You had been street casted by MSA Entertainment only two months ago. The company had one active and very popular girl group and were now preparing for the debut of a new boy group.

• You were made to move in with a dormmate when you became a trainee.

• When you first met him you had immediately noted how handsome he was. His eyes lingered on you too.

• Things started out kinda awkward between the two of you, as you were both unsure how to approach each other.

• But during practice he’d soon start approaching you more if he noticed you needed help with a dance move or something.

• The two of you grew closer as friends, VERY close. You both became touchy with each other. To an outsider it looked as if you were feeling each other up.

• Things started become even more intimate between the two of you as ”things” started happening between you.

He’d walk out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel after showers.

You’d lay around the dormroom in just a pair of white socks and heart patterned boxers.

He’d steal some of your clothes.

You’d steal some of his as revenge.

He’d wake you up in the morning by getting in to bed with you.

You’d start hugging him a lot (even if you weren’t fully clothed at some times)

…

• And then one night when you were cuddled up on a couch watching a drama, when he placed a hand on your thigh, and started running up to over your heart patterned boxers… you didn’t stop him.

• He snuck a hand into your boxers and started rubbing your cock softly. Making you moan softly.

• Soon he made lay back on the couch as he stripped you of your boxers. He positioned you with your legs spread. He put one of his fingers in your mouth asking you to make it wet for him.

• Then he’d move his hand to your ass and start pushing a finger into you, streching out your untouched virgin hole.

• He smirked as he watched your face scrunch up at the new feeling as he slowly fingered you, eventually adding more fingers inside you.

• He fingered you until you came all over yourself. Ropes of white sticky cum covering your abdomen. He then licked it off of you.

• Then without much talk you both went to bed and nothing happened between you over the next few days.

• The next time would be the following week.

• After a slow practice and a disagreement he’d had with one of the other trainees, he was feeling stressed.

• As the two of you stayed in the practice room to keep working, you soon ended up on your knees in front of the bulge in his sweatpants.

• You lowered his pants and underwear revealing his now hard manhood to you.

• It was your first time giving a blowjob but he helped guide you as you took his dick into your mouth.

• The sight of you with a cock stuffed between your lips made him eager and soon cum was dripping from his cock and your lips onto the practice room floor.

• The first time you two would have sex would start like the first time you started getting intimate, as you were watching a drama.

• You started making out and undressing each other. Until your naked bodies were tangled together.

• After he prepped you, he started pushing his thick cock inside you. You both moved slowly as his shaft streched your tight virgin walls to adjust to him.

• The sound from the tv was drowned out by the heavy moans coming from the two of you.

• He was gentle yet passionate with his movements as he rolled his hips against you. His cock going deep inside you.

• Soon you both reached your climax and you shot your load on your all over your and his abdomen. He followed closely as he flooded you your insides with his orgasm.

• As he pulled out cum was spilling from your deflowered hole.

• After that night sexual activities became a regular occurence between the two of you.

• You explored each others bodies, seeing what the other liked.

• You had sex all over the dorm, the small kitchen counter, the shower, the floor…

• The two of you even ended up fucking in the practice room once.

• He liked it when you would occasionally hold him down and ride him at a rough pace. Seeing your regularly sweet face so determined to take him to his orgasm.

• He likes to take pictures of you once he’s done with you, pictures of you with cum coated lips, cum on your torso, with a cum stuffed hole.

• The two of you even started filming yourselves as you were having sex. His phone now had a full folder of just pictures and videos of you and him.

• His favourite thing is breeding you full of his load, it’s his way of making you his before debut, before he will have to share you with all the future fans.

[breakmeoff]

The Boy Next Door │ 9

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader

warnings: suggestive dialogue, swearing, fluff, intimacy, slight angst, SMUT: unprotected p in v. MDNI, 18+ only

word count: 3.9k

synopsis: you finally heard chris' new song and saw him perform it live on stage. you struggled to cope with how you felt about it, and chose to show chris instead of tell him. that was until he recognized your change in demeanor and is determined to drag the truth out of you.

note: not many notes other than thankfully babysitter is coming to grips with reality and the gem she has in our man! thx for reading :)

Masterlist

When the final encore ended and the house lights came back on, you grabbed your phone from the back pocket of your jeans and sent a message to Chris.

You:  Headed back to the hotel.  Hurry.

It was probably somewhere around 20 minutes later that Chris returned backstage and was able to access his phone where he quickly saw the message on his screen.  The elated high from the concert was instantly erased.

Immediately a feeling of dread washed through him with the seriousness of the last word typed.  People only ever used the word ‘hurry’ when something was wrong.

Looking around the room frantically, he tried to calculate how long it might take to get back to his hotel based on the stages of everyone else either packing up, changing, or just standing around and talking.  Recognizing there was no easily excusable way he could disappear, he typed a message in reply.

Chris:  will be there as soon as i can

Roughly an hour later, Chris knocked on your hotel room door, anxious for you to answer.  It had been the fastest turn around post concert he’d ever experienced - just enough time to get back to the hotel with the rest of the group, shower, change clothes, and sneak out of his room without anyone else from the tour noticing.

He stood in the hallway, staring at your door willing it to open, and impatiently bouncing on the heels of his feet.  Just as he lifted his hand to knock again, he heard the latch clicking and the door finally swung open.

“Hey,” Chris said softly with a small smile before he got a good look at you.

You stood there barefoot, the hotel’s plush white robe wrapped around you loosely, looking up to his big brown eyes which were obviously laced with concern.  Stepping aside to let him in, you waited for him to walk into the entry before you shut the door behind him and locked it once again.

“Is everything ok, your message was kind of worrying?”  He said, turning to face you again.

Without a word, you reached for one of his hands and led him further into the room behind you.  Once in front of the bed, you turned him so the back of his knees hit the edge, and gently you guided him to sit down.

Chris parted his lips to speak, but hesitated when he watched your fingers reach for the robe’s belt and begin to untie it.  Once the fabric covering loosened, you let the shoulders fall down your arms, resting in the crook of your elbow, fully exposing your nude figure before him.

He inhaled a sharp breath, and his eyes slowly began dragging down your form, all the way from your shoulders and down to the tips of your toes.  As his gaze moved back up, hooded eyes locking in to your own, he reached forward to place his hands on your bare hips beneath your robe and pulled you closer to him.

Spreading his legs, he coaxed you to stand between them and titled his head back, keeping his eyes focused on yours.  His warm palms slid behind you, soothingly running up the length of your spine, just relishing the feeling of your soft skin.

Bringing both of your hands up to his face, your fingertips rested gently against his temples before they began to comb through his dark hair.  Chris’ eyes fluttered shut once you began lightly raking your fingernails against his scalp and instinctively he leaned in to your touch, making a soft appreciative hum at the sensation.

A few moments later, you pulled your hands away and slowly sank to your knees.  Chris’ eyes opened with the lack of your touch, only to find you beginning to untie his right shoe.  Far too mesmerized by you and the silence, he could do nothing but watch you.

Once his shoe was untied, you pulled it off his foot, then reached for his sock which you placed on top of his shoe just off to the side.  And then you switched to his left foot, repeating the process with careful motions.

Your hands rested against his ankles, then slowly moved their way up to his knees and strong thighs, which you used to brace yourself as you stood once more.  Straightening both of your arms, you let the cotton robe fully fall off of your arms, leaving you completely bare before him.

Chris stayed still, silent, unable to look away from you.  The expression on your face remained calm, focused.  Leaning down slightly, your fingers found the bottom of his t-shirt, and slowly you began to pull the fabric up his torso.  Taking the hint, Chris lifted both of his arms, and let you fully remove the piece of clothing.  

Your gentle ministrations were captivating, and the intimacy of your worshiping touches caused his heart to begin racing.  Between the way you were looking at him, and the way your hands moved so gracefully along his body, a rush of longing swept over him, and he felt his pulse thrumming through his growing arousal. 

Your hands slid down his sides, to the edges of his sweatpants and boxer briefs.  Hooking your fingers beneath the fabric, you tugged it lightly, Chris lifting his hips just enough to let you remove the rest of his clothing.  

Moving to stand right between his legs again, you wrapped your arms around his neck and Chris’ large hands moved to your hips once more before they slowly inched up the expanse of your back.  

At long last, you leaned down and pressed your lips against his, his head tilted up to meet you halfway.  With his eyes closed, and arms pulling you close, he murmured softly, lips brushing against yours.  “You are so beautiful.”

Kissing him again softly, you lingered there for a breath before whispering in return.  “So are you.”

Inhaling sharply, Chris slid a hand further up your back, between your shoulder blades and up your neck to the back of your head, deepening the kiss fervently.  Lips parted, warm breath mingled, and tongues reunited.

Lifting one of your legs onto the bed to the side of his, you leaned your weight onto it before pulling your other knee up, moving to straddle his lap with your fingers lacing through his brown wavy hair again.  

Leaning forward, you angled your hips to press your core against the hot, growing length of him beneath you, causing a low moan from Chris to reverberate through his chest and into your mouth.

His hand that wasn’t anchoring the base of your head moved to your hip, fingertips digging into your soft flesh, and coaxed you to move along him again, the slick of your arousal grinding against his cock.  

“Mm… baby,” he whimpered, the sensation of your wet pussy rocking against him becoming overwhelming.

Pressing one hand to his shoulder, you leaned back just enough to grip him, fingers wrapping around the base of him, now damp with your arousal and his pre-cum.  Pumping your hand up and down his length a few times, you shifted to align the tip of his cock with your entrance.

Finally, you lowered yourself on top of him, savoring the feeling of every inch pressing through your wet inner walls.  You sighed a long, soft moan as you settled on top of him, Chris now fully sheathed inside of your warmth.  

“Fuck…” he exhaled in a groan, resting his forehead against your shoulder as his lips parted, losing himself in the exquisite sensation of being so deep within you.  His arms tightened fiercely around you, one hooked under your arm to grip your shoulder, anchoring you down, while the other splayed fully against the expanse of your back.

You remained still, adjusting to the feeling of being so deliciously full of him.  Desperately wanting to be as close as possible, you began rocking your hips against him so, so slowly.  Grinding yourself against his lap, you gasped a moan, both of your arms wrapping around his neck.  

“Chris, you feel so good… so so good” you whimpered, your open lips against his temple with your eyes pinched shut.

Chris tensed beneath you with your praise.  “Just want to stay here like this…” he moaned, his strong hands roaming all over your body.  “Just want to live buried so deep inside you.”  Soft, open mouth kisses were placed wet against your shoulder, neck, and collarbone causing a euphoric shiver to roll up your spine.

Placing both of your palms against his cheeks, you tilted his head back just enough to fall into a lustfilled needy kiss.  Chris’ hands trailed down to your hips once again, instinctively gripping his fingers into your flesh, unable to keep himself from increasing the tempo of your movements.

With your breathing becoming heavier, and the pressure of the kiss escalating, you felt a spark of electricity course through you.  Allowing Chris to control the pace of your bodies writhing together, you tried to relax within his grasp.

“So fucking tight…” Chris growled against your mouth, using his fingers gripping roughly into your hips to move you further off of his cock, only to bring you slamming back down against him.  “Never wanna let you go…” he babbled, “mine, all fucking mine…” he groaned through gritted teeth.

Chris controlled the pace, holding onto you tightly, almost like he was afraid you might float away. He was so enamored with you and the way you felt, smelled, hell - even the way you breathed, you were better than any other intoxication he could imagine.

“M’god…” you whimpered, body starting to tense up with the feeling of your impending release creeping through you.  Your forehead resting flush against his, eyes squinting shut with your brows knit together, your breathing becoming ragged with every drag of his shaft inside of you.  “...so close” 

Chris’ eyes searched for yours. “Look at me,” he commanded lowly, causing your breath to hitch in response.  Your eyes blinked open, focusing on him, but your sight had started to become hazy.  Though it was really the shift in his tone of voice that started your tumble over the edge.

“Look at me when you cum.”

Those six words were spoken with such sincerity and longing that your heart skipped a beat, and your inner walls clenched around him like a vice.  With your vision locked in desperately to his deep, chocolate brown eyes, your entire body tensed as you cried out, your climax washing so intensely through you. 

Shortly thereafter, you slumped against his chest, your body trembling with shockwaves as he continued fucking you through it.

Chris was a lost cause as you tightened around him and he watched you come apart so beautifully on top of him. A deep, filthy moan escaped his lips as his muscular thighs shook, and he held you still above him.  Thick, hot ropes erupted inside of you, his cock buried to the hilt as his orgasm surged through his body.

While attempting to regulate his breathing again, Chris felt you still quivering against him.  Moving his hands to your thighs, he began comfortingly rubbing them, trying to relax your still twitching muscles.  Noticing your legs still bent beneath you and straddling his lap, Chris slowly pulled out of you causing you to gasp softly with the sudden emptiness within you.  

Carefully, with his hands under your legs, he lifted you and stood with you wrapped around him as if your life depended upon it.  “I've got you, Sweetheart.”  He whispered into your hair, walking around the side of the bed to gently lay you down, placing your head against the pillows.  

Chris moved swiftly into the bathroom, wetting a towel with warm water before he returned to you, sitting at the edge of the bed beside you.  Gently separating your legs, he brought the soft, damp cloth against you, meticulously cleaning you with tender movements.  

Watching you finally catching your breath, your eyes shut in a peaceful expression, an overwhelming warmth spread through his chest.  He’d never felt luckier than he did right now, being in your presence, knowing you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with him, and trusting that he’d never take advantage of that level of intimacy.

Some time later, in the quiet stillness of the afterglow, Chris laid beside you with one arm under his head on the pillow, and the other wrapped tightly around your shoulders, holding you close to him. With your head on his chest, legs curled between his, and one hand tracing the defined muscles on his abdomen, you exhaled a long, content sigh.

With a smirk on his lips, he looked at you and lightly nudged you.  “You ok down there?”

Tipping your head up to look at him, you nodded your head once before lifting to place a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.  “Am now.”

“You weren’t before?,” Chris asked softly, a puzzled expression on his face.

Nestling back into the crook of his arm to place your cheek against him, hiding your face, you tried to deflect.  “All’s fine.”

 “Whoa whoa whoa…” he said, shifting his body to press both hands gently to the front of your shoulders in an effort to make you face him.  “What’s going on?”

Leaning back against your own pillow, flat on your back now, you closed your eyes.  “Nothing, I’m just tired, ignore me.”

Pushing himself now into a seated position with the sheet covering over his lap, he turned to fully face you. “Y/N, don’t shut me out.  Tell me.”

Grasping the top of the sheet covering you with both hands, you tried to pull it over your face which was now becoming a lovely shade of bright pink in embarrassment.  One of Chris’ strong, broad hands reached for the fabric and tugged it down.  “Now who is acting like a child,” he half joked, but internally he was beginning to panic that something was seriously wrong.

Finally you opened your eyes and let him uncover your face.  Staring up at him, you struggled to speak.  You were supposed to be the mature one in this… whatever this was, and here you were, unable to voice the fact that you were jealous.  It seemed insane.

Noticing the hesitation all over you, Chris reached for one of your hands, and linked his fingers between yours.  “Please tell me,” he asked softly, bringing your hand to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“…your new song,” you murmured, looking at him, but avoiding his eyes.

“Yeah…?” He replied, his eyes lighting up with the smallest of smirks.

“It was a lot…” 

A short chuckle escaped Chris lips, his hand gripping yours just a little tighter.  “A lot as in a good lot, or as in a bad lot?”

“It was a hot lot.”  You paused, cringing at your choice of words.  “It, it was very hot.  Caught me by surprise… you hadn’t mentioned a new song to me.”

The look of concern that had previously graced his face now swept into the most amused, giddy grin.  “I know, I wanted to surprise you with it.”

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you met his eyes.  “Why?  You told me all about the other set list changes…” 

“I wrote it for you, that’s why.”  Chris said quietly, though confidently.

You just blinked at him, trying to see if you heard him correctly.  “Huh…?”

He laughed again, bringing your hand back to his lips once more.  “I wrote it after I came to visit you in Melbourne…” now blushing himself, he continued, dropping his volume a little.  “I actually noted some of the lyrics while I was in your bed…”

“Oh,” you mumbled, once again, looking around at anything that wasn’t him.  “Oh…” you repeated, now pointedly looking at him.  “Wait…” you sat up, clutching the sheets to your chest.

That annoyingly stupid dimpled smile of his was plastered on his face as he watched you begin to process the information.

“I’ll be honest, I got a little… um… distracted… during the song.  And now I’m embarrassed I didn’t really hear any of the words.”

Chris smirked, a playful glint in his eye.  “Distracted?  What had you distracted, Sweetheart?” He teased, dropping your hand from his, only to reach forward and brush your hair from your face.

“You,” you replied. “The whole thing… the stage, the chair, your stupid contacts,” Chris snorted a laugh, “the looking into the camera like you wanted to seduce it.”  You continued, looking at him like he was crazy for not understanding where you were coming from.

“And, and then you did the thing with the lean and the backwards thing,” your hands were becoming animated, rehashing the performance as if he hadn’t been the one on stage performing it himself.  

“And then stripping.”  Your tone of voice shifted from exasperated, to soft and unsure, looking up at him through your lashes in hesitation.  “On stage.  With claw marks all over you.”  

Chris watched your recounting of the song and the rollercoaster of tones you took describing it to him. Though when your voice got quieter at the end, he noted something different. Something… new.

“I can’t tell… did you like it, or not?”  He tried to laugh softly, to ease your nerves.

“Most of it, yeah.”  You admitted, shifting uncomfortably in your seated position.

Chris didn’t speak, he just looked at you, silently urging you to continue. To open up to him and be honest.

With a heavy sigh, you squinted your eyes shut and dropped your shoulders in defeat.  “The claw marks, I know it’s stupid and irrational but… I hated the idea of,” your volume dropped lower again, barely audible “someone else marking you.”

“Oh my God…” Chris started, that stupid smirk back on his face.  “Were you… jealous??”  Inching his face closer to yours, he tried to get right in your line of vision so you couldn’t look away.

“No, I mean… I don’t know.”  You mumbled, opening your eyes only to find his face right before yours.  “Ok fine, the idea of someone else touching you like that was… frustrating.”

Silencing you from continuing to speak, Chris wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a searing, tender kiss.  There were no teeth clashing or tongues tangling, just the soft lingering of wet lips, breathing each other in.

He held you for a few moments, leaning back far enough to move his lips to your forehead, and pulling you firmly to his chest and held you against his broad frame.

“Sweetheart, the song is about you, and us, and how you drive me crazy with want for you.”  Chris spoke softly, lips brushing against your temple with his words.  “The claw marks are supposed to be a symbol of yours,” he emphasized by tickling your rib cage, causing you to giggle and squirm in his grasp.

Leaning back just slightly, you looked up to his face, searching his eyes for confirmation and certainty. “Really?”

Lifting both of his hands to cup your cheeks, he nodded only once.  “I promise, your hands and nails are the only ones I want on me.”

A small grin formed on your lips, feeling more relieved than you expected.

“I want you to know, Y/N,” Chris began, reaching for one of your hands again and bringing it to lay flat against his bare chest just above his heart.  “I’m all yours.  There’s no one else for me and as long as I have a say in it, there will be no one else.”

The intimacy and promise in his words were not lost on you.  Leaving your palm lingering against his warm skin, you could feel his steady heartbeat, echoing the unwavering, reliable finality of his statement.

Despite his sincerity, and the fact that deep down you knew he would move heaven and earth for you if you asked him, there was still something telling you it would never work.  Logistics, life goals, family, his publicity, the media, your age difference… it felt like everything was stacked against you.

“You know that the odds are so not in our favor, right?  Like, there are a thousand reasons that this could not work?”  You asked, hating yourself for always being pragmatic, and not allowing yourself to live spontaneously or follow through with what you actually wanted.

“We can work through them,” he replied confidently, still holding your hand against his heart.

“What about your job?  And the media?  And the fact that we live in completely different countries?”

“No one has to know.  If you don’t want anyone to know, then this will stay between us.  And yes, the distance sucks, but we can make it work,” Chris said, trying to combat your hesitations.

“What about your future?  Don’t you want to get married and have a family some day?”

Pausing, he kept his eyes focused on you.  “Ideally, yes, someday, but we don’t need to make any life altering decisions today.”

Sighing heavily, you looked down between your bodies, momentarily letting your internal guilt win over.  “The last thing I want to do is stop you from doing what it is you really want in this life.  I care way too much about you to let you throw away what you want long term for the short term possibility of you and me.”

“Y/N, just shut up, will you?”  Chris laughed, knowing that you were absolutely trying to psych yourself out again.  Grabbing your cheeks again to force you to look at him, he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I am not proposing marriage to you today, ok?  So just relax…” he teased.  “Take a deep breath with me.  Inhale,” he coached, inhaling deeply with you.  “And exhale…” he repeated, letting his exhalation linger.

“Here’s what I am proposing today.  You are going to let me spoil you if I choose to, and you’re going to let me write songs about you, and perform them in front of thousands of people.  And you won’t get jealous over silly costumes or stage makeup,” Chris smirked, keeping you close.

“You’re going to let me take care of you like any boyfriend would take care of his girlfriend.  Or like any man would take care of his woman.  And tomorrow night you’re going to come to the show again and listen to the lyrics and stop objectifying my body.”

“I make zero promises,” you said quietly, your guard slowly coming down once again.  “Besides,” you hesitated, “I think I was just given explicit permission to drool over my boyfriend if I want to.”

Chris beamed, his own heart skipping a beat hearing you use the term he tried to slip in.  “Well in that case,” he murmured, flipping you onto your back to hover over you with his weight supported on one elbow.  “I’d be offended if my girlfriend didn’t objectify me even just a little bit.”

Leaning down, Chris kissed you with conviction, lips melting into each other, your arms holding him closely against you, both of you trying to breathe each other in.

Against his lips, you smiled, murmuring “maybe you should let me give you some real claw marks for tomorrow.  Authenticity and all.”  

Chris growled lowly, nodding his head and dragging his plush lips against your own.  “Mark me baby, show the world I’m yours.”

tag list: @angel-writes-skz-here @idkimobsessed @queenofdumbfuckery @mfcherry @downingmorphine @pixie-felix @d3kstar @lveegsoi @ebnabi @nebugalaxy @babystay724 @mmarusa @imagine-all-the-imagines @erisuna @beabidoobee @hanniesbubuwife @bbykaixx @riri53 @jinniesgirl @alx-wyjsr @skzswife @hwangjoanna @stephanieeeyang

Masterlist

[paci-papa]

You were so excited to go over to Papa's house. He was hosting a baby shower for a friend, and he wanted you to be there.

You had been dating and playing with Papa for a few months now, but it hadn't been serious. Just a few trips out to pizza or the zoo, followed by evenings of incredible little time in his nursery.

Despite a long term interest in AB/DL, you'd never been in a relationship like this before, and, so far, it was better than you had ever imagined it would be.

And today? Today was wonderful because your relationship with Papa was taking the next step. He wasn't just hanging out with you on a date or in the nursery. He was introducing you to his friends.

The party started out great. You were wearing your cutest outfit, and Papa's friends were all incredibly nice. They brought you drinks, complimented you on how cute you were, and talked about how lucky Papa was to have you in his life.

The only concerning thing was that none of Papa's friends appeared to be pregnant. Not wanting to be rude, you never questioned the issue, assuming that the parents-to-be must be adopting.

After a number of silly games, like seeing how fast people could drain a baby bottle (you one of course) and making a diaper out of toilet paper (somehow you were the model), it was time for presents.

One of Papa's prettier friends sat near the presents and patted the seat next to her.

"Sweetheart, would you mind sitting here and helping me open these presents?"

You smiled broadly at being given the honor and practically skipped to the seat.

You helped the woman--you never caught her name--open present after present. A parade of toys, bottles, and burp clothes passed through your hands as you dutifully showed them off for the interested crowd.

Then, the presents switched to clothes, and you started to become concerned. The woman had you display each onesie, jumper and set of shortalls for the crowd. But, despite each item of clothing being clearly designed for an infant, they all seemed perfectly sized to fit you.

Finally, only one box was left. It was small, but a nervous pit had formed in your stomach. What was going on? Why was everyone so focused on you? The look of confusion and concern on your face was adorable.

You watched as Papa picked up the last, small present himself, and got on one knee in front of you. For no reason you understood, a blush bloomed on your face.

"Baby, could you open this last present?" Papa asked softly.

Delicately, you reached for the box in his hand. A clamshell container, much like a jewelry box, but decorated in rainbows and unicorns. You opened up the box and looked inside. On a velvet padded cushion sat a beautiful adult-sized pacifier, in your favorite brand and style.

You looked up at Papa, confused.

"Little one," he began as you looked at him, "would you do me the greatest honor in the world and agree to be my full-time baby?"

The blush that covered your face and neck was overcome with tears of joy as you fell into Papa's arms.

"Yes, Papa, I will!" You answered as you clung to him.

Papa's friends broke into applause as Papa picked you up and carried you back into the nursery.

After a quick outfit change, the party continued. As you were passed around from one of Papa's friends to another in your diaper and toddler party dress, you smiled and giggled fully enjoying the party.

No, not just a party: A baby shower. Your baby shower.

You had never been happier.

[thatoneautisticshark]

Price groaned, rubbing his eyes and blinking hard. Working on his paperwork was increasingly hard when he was seeing double and everything felt like it was spinning.

Sure he'd only recently got home from the 2 week long mission. But paperwork wouldn't do itself, he didn't want to do this when he woke up.

Besides, he'd had the sniffles all day. If he went to bed now, he'd likely wake up fully sick, and then he couldn't do shit. All he needed to do was get this all done then he could rest in peace.

Price glanced at the massive pile left. Yeahhh, this was gonna take all night. But he couldn't sic it on the boys, they needed to rest after the long mission.

He sighed, resigning to finish this. It only took half an hour more before his vision was blurring further, black spots dancing in and out of his sight.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to work out that the noise he was hearing was a knock on the door, and not an auditory hallucination.

“Come in” he called, wincing slightly at the rasp of his voice. He was definitely coming down sick.

The hulking great figure of Simon filled his vision, clearly having showered, in fresh clothes and a plain black balaclava.

He couldn't help immediately feeling a little scolded. He knew Simon came here to check on him. Simon had known him years longer then the other two, and naturally knew of his…. Less than healthy habits.

His lieutenants eyes narrowed “Go shower” he scolded, softly.

Prices nose immediately scrunched. “I'm fine, Si. I will, I just need to finish this.”

His words were not enough to get Simon off his back. “Go shower now, and sleep….. sir”

Price shot him a look. His tacking sir belatedly on the end of the sentence did not make it a respectful way to talk to his superior.

“I am fine, Lieutenant. You d-” He cut himself off, body apparently deciding now was the perfect time to burst into a coughing fit, chest heaving. The coughs dry and loud, making his throat hurt.

Simon immediately moved to his side, rubbing the captains back with a worried look on his face. However he couldn't resist a snide comment “Case in point, you need to rest.”

Price clumsily stuck up the middle finger as he caught his breath, huffing slightly, headache worse now. “ ‘m fine”

He then let out an undignified squeak as Simon seemed to decide to take it into his own hands, picking up Price with ease and slinging him over his shoulder.“OI! What the bloody hell are you doing you Muppet!?”

Simon simply hummed, walking out the door. “You need to rest. If you won't rest off your own accord, I will make you rest.”

Price growled, trying to avoid to worse dizziness at being moved, and how warm Simons bare hands were. “Bloody lotta good it'll do if you are bringing me away from my bed!”

Simon gave him a withering look. “If I were to make you rest in your own bed. You would get back up when I left, no? Therefore I am bringing you to my room”

Price huffs unable to really combat that statement, dizzy and exhausted, he just allowed Simon to carry him, albeit pouting slightly.

Simon was incredibly warm and comfortable and Price was so tired, so he just let him self be carried.

He did have to hide a slight snicker when Simon walked by Johnny and Kyle. Afterall he just considered this normal, with how well he and Simon knew each other.

But the other two boys had never seen this, and were probably baffled that Simon was walking round with the captain over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Still he didn't have the energy to argue as Simon carried him into him room, setting him on the bed, before laying on him, much like a stubborn cat.

He knew price would try and get up otherwise, so he simply laid on him. And sure, price was a little peeved, he did have work to do, but he was comfy.

The door creaked open, soap quietly peaking his head in. “Wha tha hell?”

Simon raised his head at that. “He is sick and still trying to work. A dumb arse.”

Price resisted the urge to groan as both Soap and Gaz entered the room, clearly ready to scold him.

Apparently none of the boys were keen on letting him back to work. Gaz took all the work, finishing it up, and Johnny also curled up with Simon, pinning price to the bed, after making food to ensure he ate.

Price knew he really should be annoyed… but he was in a cuddle sandwich of hot men, so he wasn't complaining.

[v6quewrlds]

💞 Joe burrow fluff

imagine cuddling with joe before bed.

Your gaze lifted from your book as you heard the door to the closet creak open. There he was, your 6’4” quarterback, looking more like a sleepy puppy than the football god he was to his fans. His skin well moisturized, the smell of shea butter and vanilla notably following him as he approached the bed. He had towelled off well but had decided against fully drying his hair, which was a rarity for him. You had practically talked him off the ledge after the Steelers game, convincing him to trim the sides down instead of buzzing his head again. The result was a slightly damp, messy mop of thick, dirty blonde hair that had you biting back a grin.

“What's so funny?” he mumbled, his eyes half-closed, as he stumbled over to the bed.

You couldn’t help but softly giggle under your breath. “You spent almost five minutes in your closet. Where are your clothes?”

Joe’s sleepy gaze drifted up to meet yours, and he had the nerve to look surprised. “Clothes? Why would I need those?” He climbed into bed, his muscular form settling heavily on top of you, face first into your chest. Your book dropped to the side as his head found the perfect pillow, your breasts giving slightly under his weight.

Your laugh was a mix of surprise and amusement. “Baby, it’s barely past eight,” you scolded, your voice teasing as you tried to push him off you.

“I know, I know,” Joe murmured, his voice muffled by your skin. “But I’m beat, and this is the only way I’ll get some decent sleep tonight. Plus, I like the way you smell after your shower.” He snuggled closer, his warmth and weight enveloping you.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the affection in your voice. “We use the same stuff. We literally smell the same,” you said, feebly pushing at his broad shoulders.

He grinned into your chest, his teeth flashing white against your brown skin. “Yeah, but it’s different comin' from you. It’s like... domestic or whatever.” His hand reached up to cover yours, guiding it to his hair. “Can you do the thing with my hair?”

You sighed dramatically, setting your book aside and letting Joe’s head rest comfortably. You knew exactly what he liked: a gentle but firm tug on his hair, starting at the base and moving up to the ends. It was a comforting little habit he’d picked up from his mom, he’d once confessed, and you found it utterly adorable. Your fingers began to weave through the slightly damp strands, your nails scraping lightly against his scalp.

You felt his weight shift slightly as he turned his head to press a kiss against your skin, just above the neckline of your bralette. It was a simple act, but it sent a warm jolt of electricity through your body, reminding you of why you loved this man so much.

“You sure you don’t need me to tuck you in?” you asked, your voice playfully sweet.

Joe’s eyes remained closed, but you saw a hint of a smile on his face. “Nah, I’m good. I have the perfect pillows already.” He nuzzled closer, his stubble scratching gently against your skin.

You hummed in response, your hand continuing the soothing motion in his hair. “You’re such a goofball,” you said, shaking your head. “But I guess I’ll keep you around for now.”

“Good choice,” Joe murmured, his voice already starting to drift.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you watched Joe slowly succumb to sleep. His breath grew steady, and you knew that he'd be out in seconds. You leaned down to kiss his forehead, feeling the warmth of his skin against your lips. “Night, Joey,” you whispered.

[studiogrimm810]

Wash It Away

pairings/characters: (established) sam winchester x gn!you

summary: after a rough hunt, you and sam take a shower to wash away the stress

warnings: shower scene, depictions of injuries/cleaning those injuries, not smut just a lot of love and care

word count: 1,379

A/N: this is a quick one that i just had to get out into words, enjoy!!

———————

The dingy motel shower was a comforting space at the moment, the small window in the bathroom provides just enough sunlight to warm the space without it being too revealing.

Sam rests you against the sink as he goes to warm up the shower for you and him. 

You look up instinctively at the mirror in front of you and the sight before you makes you cringe. A small groan of disgust involuntarily leaves your lips.

Your hair is a mess, frizzy and stained with blood that’s fallen from your nose. Your lip is busted and your entire face throbs. Your shirt was torn and the side of your neck was bruised badly- a dark handprint topped with crescent cuts where the fingertips would be.

The hunt had gone poorly, to say the least. It was just you and Sam and you were up against four demons.

Sam’s face wasn’t as screwed up as yours because he took more body hits. From being thrown, his clothes are dusty and torn and as he sheds off his last shirt layer, you see a blossoming bruise on his back. It’s a nasty patch of purple and blue that engulfs his entire upper back and down his left shoulder. He groans as the fabric is lifted off of his head and tossed to the side.

As he turns to look at you, his eyes soften, taking over your appearance again. He steps closer and reaches for your shirt.

“C’mon, baby, let’s get you cleaned up,” Sam waits for a nod of approval before lifting off your shirt. You raise your arms above your head with a wince, remembering the own hit you took to the side of a dresser. Once your shirt is removed, Sam traces the bruise around your neck gently, examining the broken skin. “Does it hurt to breathe? Talk?”

“Only a little,” you whisper back, not able to use the full extent of your vocal chords at the moment. His face cringes softly but he only nods, keeping his eyes on the skin.

“Water will be warm,” he gestures lightly to the shower with disappointing water pressure.

Next are your jeans, shimmying them down so you don’t have to bend too much. The fog in your mind from hitting your head was not really cleared yet and you didn’t want to push your luck.

Once both of you are fully undressed you take in his body, the quickly darkening bruise on his back, a slice from a knife on his arm that might need stitches, and a busted brow with less impactful bruises scattered about. He holds back the shower curtain for you and you step under the water, letting the little bullets pellet your back. Sam follows behind and closes the curtain.

“Temp okay?” He asks, pushing back some of your hair so he can place a gentle kiss on your neck.

“Mhmm,” you hum, leaning your head back into his chest and letting him hold you for a minute.

There’s a lot about The Life that sucks and hunting is never easy, but what makes it worth it are not only the people you save, but moments like these. Warm and tender love shared between two tortured souls, bonded by acts of violence and the stain that they left.

Being under the care of a man like Sam Winchester is devouring and all encompassing. He’s a force to be reckoned with at times of danger, but the consistent care and support that just emanates from him makes him home for you.

He’s your strong walls when you feel like the world is caving in on you.

He’s the steady spirit in a world of uncertainty and challenges.

He’s the careful partner who watches out for you in such times of danger that is your day-to-day.

It’s exhausting, it has to be, but he’s always there and he’s always what you need.

He’s grabbing a clean towel and gently turning you to wipe away dried blood that paints your face and he’s precise to keep stray water from ricocheting to your face from the faucet.

His strong hands, that could probably be classified as lethal weapons, cradle your chin and hold you in place for him to clean your face.

You watch his eyes that flicker to yours every few beats with a small smile, taking in the beautiful color brewed beneath the glass. Wet leaves, washed away with sticks and mud swirling down a mossy drain, mix and blend to make up just half of the richness in his eyes. Eyes that watch you with such precise detail, like he’s taking in every move you make and filing it for later as if he doesn’t have enough to worry about already.

Your own hand reaches up and around his arms to wipe away some of his own blood that has seeped from his temple. You don’t get too close to the wound though, not wanting to touch it directly and cause him pain.

“Let me take care of you first, honey, please,” he gently pushes his elbow out to knock your hand away and you’re too tired so you just let him. Besides, how are you supposed to argue with that look he gives you? The one that reflects the guilt he truly feels because he believes he’s responsible for your pain. And despite how many times you tell him that’s not true, that damn look never seems to give. “How’re you feeling?” He asks, setting the cloth on an unoccupied soap dish.

“Sore,” you whisper which he can barely hear over the spray of water but he doesn’t ask you to repeat yourself.

“Dizzy at all still?” Sam asks, moving his hand from your jaw so you can better move your lips for him to read.

“Only when I move too fast,” the amount of words you speak makes the tickle that aches your throat act up and you cough. Sam’s brows crunch in another wince at your discomfort. He rubs your back in a soothing glide under the water during your fit, waiting for the coughs to die down before he starts to wash your body.

“The shower will help, wake ya’ up some,” he reaches for the body wash and decides to put some on his hands first, using it almost like lotion as he massages your tense shoulders. “You shouldn’t sleep until the dizziness goes away, we’ll get you some food after you’re all cleaned up.”

Your forehead rests on his bare chest as he works his hands along your shoulders and down your back, minding the bruising. His touch is firm as it works out certain knots that ache your muscles.

His hands run down your body, along the sore skin, working like a balm and honestly, despite his best efforts, making you a little sleepy.

His gentle hands push your shoulders so that you're standing straight up again, “Now’s time for your hair,” he cards through your locks, separating the matted strands to prepare for the shampoo.

The way his hands work in your scalp is almost intoxicating, and it soothes the dull ache throbbing in your skull.

He’s careful with you, always.

Loving and patient, and he puts you first. You would argue more often if you thought he’d listen. But you also know that he couldn’t have it any other way, he had to take care of you first, he just had to.

And honestly, it wasn’t all too bad, because once you were okay that meant all your focus could be on him.

Your turn to wash his hair and soothe his muscles.

You only hope you can be half as catering as him, to make him feel as safe and loved as he does you.

He’s relaxed enough now as you rinse out his sudsy hair, but you can see the awful guilt that shimmers in his eyes every time he looks down at the bruise around your neck. It wasn’t even his fault, but he’ll blame himself with ‘should have’s until the mark is gone. And maybe even a little after.

But right now you just have each other. And as you dry off and settle into fresh clothes, you’re reminded that you survived another day. 

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thank you so much for reading!! <3

>pictures are not my own, i have the originals linked here (pinterest) >>check out my other works here