#I about fell asleep at my keyboard

[hzdtrees]

Aloy (once again)

[powderblueblood]

COME ON OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP

[softgrungeprophet]

every reviewer who wrote that the acer aspire 5 is a good budget laptop owes me $700

[katsu28]

home is wherever you are

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: secretly falling in love with your best friend is tough. secretly falling in love with your best friend who also happens to be your roommate is even less than ideal. the solution? move out! (hint: it isn’t a very good one.) (5k)

warnings: angst with a happy ending, a smidge of google translated french lol

a/n: CHARLES LECLERC!!! CHARLES LECLERC!!!!LECLERC!!! LECLERAUGHCOUGHCOUGH

“I still cannot believe you’re abandoning me.” 

Charles shoved another box of your things into the boot of your car rather huffily, as if to reiterate just how unhappy he was. 

“I’m not abandoning you, I’m moving out of your apartment.” You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully at him. You passed him the last box off the ground, wiping your hands off on your shorts before propping them on your hips. 

“That is quite literally the same thing.” He mirrored your stance in total seriousness, frown unwavering. “And it’s not my apartment, it’s yours now too. Your home.” 

You’d been living with Charles for a while now, having been suddenly evicted from your own place three, almost four years ago. With nowhere else to go, you’d turned to your best friend, and Charles had welcomed you with open arms, giving you a home when you’d needed it most. 

There were many good things about living with Charles—he liked to cook (which boded well with you, seeing as you were no master chef yourself. Except for when he’d gone through a questionable phase of combining cuisines that did not go well together.), he was respectful of set boundaries and agreed upon rules. You had the same taste in shows and movies, which made for little fighting when it came to deciding on what to watch. 

But most notably, he loved to play the piano. It was a hobby he’d picked up during long days spent staying at home, and he was good at it too. An electronic keyboard when he’d first started out, just to see if it was something he was serious about, but as he zoomed through the basics with ease, he’d splurged on a gorgeous white piano that stood proudly in the living room. 

Soon enough, it wasn’t unusual for the apartment to be full of music, beautiful songs of Charles’ own composing. 

He played whenever he had the feeling. Whenever he had something on his mind, whenever he was bored, anything, he’d spend hours at the piano, playing, playing, playing. Some might’ve called it annoying, but not you. You found it rather soothing. 

It had very quickly become a habit of yours to fall asleep listening to Charles play. Something about it seemed to always relax you just enough to the point where you could pretty much fall asleep anywhere if he was at the bench. 

Your favorite spot was on the sofa with a big blanket, watching him get lost in the notes until you drifted off. More often than not, you could rarely get a good night’s sleep without Charles’ accompaniment—your very own version of white noise. 

But truth be told, this past year of living together with Charles had been trickier than the first couple. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things began to change, but something had definitely shifted between you. 

You’d been trying to write it off just the two of you being very close, but you’d been dancing on the line of close friends and more than friends for a long time. Falling asleep together cuddled on the sofa, lingering touches whilst you were in the same room and in passing, hugs that lasted a little too long to be considered normal. 

The more your feelings for Charles grew, the more worried you became. Worried about what, you weren’t exactly sure. All you knew was you didn’t want to lose the longest and best friendship you’d ever had because you went and fell in love.

“I know. But I think it’s well past time I get out of your hair and try being on my own for once.” You said softly, stepping in to fold yourself into Charles’ arms. 

Most of that was true. You did feel like you needed to live by yourself for a chance, to see what it was like to be fully independent in your adult life. You’d moved in with Charles when you were twenty two, and you were twenty five now. It was time for you to venture out on your own. 

But the uncertainty of falling in love with your best friend was definitely also a contributing factor. 

He made a displeased sound at your words, but tucked you under his chin nonetheless. “I don’t want you to get out of my hair. My hair likes it with you here.” 

“I live fifteen minutes away, Cha. I’m not moving across the country. You and your hair can come over anytime.” You scoffed, giving him a gentle poke in the ribs. “And I’ll come over here all the time too, you know that.” 

“Fine, fine. I don’t know what I am supposed to do with your empty room now, but I’ll figure it out. Maybe I will take up scrapbooking. Knitting. Needlepoint, maybe. Turn it into a craft room.” 

“Maybe you can turn it into a music room. Move the keyboard in there, your piano.” 

“Ah, bien entendu, my piano. How will you ever fall asleep without my sweet, sweet melodies?” 

“I think I will manage just fine.” You chuckled. 

Charles held you at arms’ length, dark brows furrowing as he scowled. “What I’m hearing is you don’t love me anymore.” 

Oh, if only he knew. 

You smiled instead, patting his cheek good-naturedly. “Come on, you drama queen. I want to move in before the sun goes down.” 

Charles went full protection mode the second all your belongings had made it safely inside the apartment, intently checking every lock, window, door hinge, cabinet—not an inch of the apartment went uninspected by him. When he seemed fairly satisfied with his safety checks, he returned to where you were unpacking kitchen items over by the oven.

“Everything up to your standards?” You asked, pulling out a stack of plates wrapped in brown paper. Charles shuffled over, easing them out of your hands and unwrapping them to help put them up in the cabinet. “No one is going to break in through my window tonight?”

“Don’t even joke about that.” He grumbled, chucking the balled up paper at you gently. “Everything I checked is fine. You will be safe here.” 

Food was simple when it came time for dinner—takeout on the floor of your living room, because you hadn’t had the time to go shopping for a coffee table yet. Or a dining room table. Or even chairs, really. All you had were some pillows and an overturned cardboard box to put the food on. 

Charles had insisted on helping you furnish the whole place before you moved in but you’d declined, saying that you wanted to get a feel for the place before filling it with everything. The last time it would be this empty would be the day you moved out. 

He seemed a little quiet the rest of the night, but you didn’t press it until after dinner, whilst he was helping you with the washing up. Well, helping was a strong word. 

“You’ve been drying that plate for ages now.” You observed, tilting your head at him thoughtfully. Charles inhaled sharply, shaking his head like he’d been snapped out of a stupor. He glanced down at the completely dry plate, then back up at you blankly. “What’re you thinking about?” 

“You’re really going to be gone.”

“You say that like I told you I’ve only got days to live. I won’t be gone, Cha. I’ll be around.” You chuckled, flicking dish soap bubbles in his direction. Charles responded by flinging his towel at you, cracking a smile. You liked it when he smiled, hated it when he frowned. He was still unfairly attractive, but it wasn’t Charles’ scowl that made you fall in love with him. 

“We can spend the day together anytime, you can come over whenever you want, and if it makes you feel any better, I will give you your very own key.” 

That seemed to put him a little more in higher spirits. 

 “What will you ever do without me?” He wondered out loud, feigning a thoughtful expression. 

“Probably clean up a lot less. Be able to take a shower without running out of hot water halfway through. Oh! Have a bottle of shampoo last more than a month because someone—not naming names, of course, won’t use it because they’ve run out of theirs. Not have to fight for—” 

“Alright, alright, I get it!” Charles huffed, grabbing you by the shoulders and promptly shoving your face into his chest to stop you from talking. 

You grinned against the softness of his hoodie. “Shall I go on?” 

“No, no you shouldn’t.” His hold on you loosened, but you stayed right where you were, wrapping your arms around his torso. “Just admit it. You’ll miss me.” 

“I will miss you.” You said softly, pressing your cheek into the crook of his neck. If there was something Charles was unbelievably good at (besides literally anything he’d ever tried), it was giving the best hugs. Something about them made you feel safe, like nothing and nobody could ever hurt you as long as you were in his arms. 

“You already know how much I’m going to miss having you around.” 

“Yeah, I am pretty great.” 

A laugh rumbled through his chest. “You are.” 

“You’ve been the best roommate I could’ve asked for. Thank you for everything.” Your words were muffled between the two of you, and you were glad for it, because he didn’t seem to notice the waver in your tone. But he did squeeze you a little tighter, so maybe he did hear you. “I love you, Cha.” 

Charles’ voice seemed to waver just a bit too. “I love you too.” 

“Okay, okay, you really need to leave. Go before I change my mind and make you stay.” You blurted, pushing him away playfully. It was better than letting him see you get emotional. 

“Is that a promise?” 

“No, it’s a threat. Go home. I will see you soon.” You gave his hand one last squeeze, nodding reassuringly to rid him of the crease between his brows. “Don’t worry about me. Go, get some rest.” 

It was only then that he seemed satisfied enough to leave, but even then, he cast another backwards glance towards you on his way down the hall, as if he was waiting for you to beckon him back. You just smiled as best you could. 

You’d get over it. You had to. There was still a lot you needed to get done before you called it a night. 

It wasn’t until you were getting ready to go to bed that you started to feel lonely. You and Charles had your respective bedtime routines, but they always intertwined. 

You never liked being the one to turn off all the lights in the apartment because the switch was at the end of the hallway opposite from your bedrooms, so he knew to do it because you hated running back through the darkness after flipping the switch. 

He always filled a glass with water for late night sipping, but never remembered to actually bring it to his room until he was already in bed, so you always grabbed it for him so he wouldn’t have to make the trek back out the kitchen.  

The bathroom counter was where you’d find each other the most, terrible jokes and funny stories told muffled through toothpaste bubbles, even though you could’ve just waited until you were finished to tell each other. You’d flick water at him as you washed your face because he took up too much space at the sink, he’d turn off the tap in retaliation, things like that. 

Sometimes Charles would stay up later playing video games with his friends, or take some extra time to practice piano, so you wouldn’t get to do your well oiled machine routine, but he’d always take the extra second to pop into your room to say goodnight when he heard you bustling around, even if he was in the middle of something. 

The times you fell asleep on the sofa to Charles’ playing the piano, he’d camp out at the other end of the sofa for the night, or at the very least made sure you were covered with a blanket if he went to sleep in his own room. 

It was something you’d grown accustomed to over the years, oftentimes the well-needed end to a not so great day. Charles never failed to put a smile on your face, even with something as small and mundane as a bedtime routine. 

But there was none of that as you ran through your routine this time. 

You didn’t hear him shuffling around over in the other room, the muffled sounds of his shouts as he played his games, and most of all, you didn’t hear him and his piano. 

Because there was no Charles. Of course there wasn’t. You were in this new place that you hadn’t had quite nearly enough of a chance to get used to yet, alone, and it was finally settling in. 

Suddenly moving out and away from him seemed like the worst decision in the world. 

You knew it was only the first night. You had to give yourself a chance to reacclimate, and that would take time. So you inhaled a deep breath, trying to get as comfy as you could for a long, probably sleepless night ahead. 

It was nearing four in the morning when you finally decided to give up and call Charles. Part of you thought he might not even pick up the phone, because he was probably asleep. Any sane person would be sleeping right now. 

Much to your surprise, he answered on the second ring. 

“Why are you awake?” You asked, maybe a bit harshly. 

“Um, you are the one who called me? Why are you awake?” He replied, groggy voice still teasing. His accent always grew thicker when he was sleepy. You thought it was adorable. “You cannot sleep, can you?” 

“...No.” Your voice grew smaller. You felt embarrassed at the fact that you couldn’t even make it one full night without Charles around. “I just…I wanted to hear your voice, I guess. I miss you already, Cha.” 

Charles fell silent for a few moments, the only sound on his side of the line being his gentle exhales. “I miss you too. Do you want me to come over? I can stay the night, if you want.” 

“No. No, you don’t need to do that.” You said softly. “Can you just talk to me?” 

This was also something that had become somewhat of a ritual when either of you couldn’t sleep. 

You’d tiptoe into each other’s rooms quiet as a mouse, slipping into bed beside the other. Charles always stirred when he felt the bed dip under your weight, half asleep but still reaching out to pull you against his chest like it was second nature. On the occasions when he came into your room, you’d feel him tuck himself close to you, nosing against any part of you he could find with a content sigh. 

There was no rhyme or reason to the things you’d talk about in those moments, but eventually, somehow, you’d both end up asleep, usually fairly quickly. Maybe it was the extra added comfort of each other that helped, you could never tell. 

It wasn’t unusual to wake up a jumble of limbs tangled together, and neither of you ever addressed it either. Just went on with your business as usual, never talking about it because it was just something you did. To help each other sleep, of course. 

Another thing that really blurred the line between friends and more. 

Charles hummed a noncommittal sound, soft and fond like he always was around you. “I’ll do you one better. How about I play some music for you?” 

“Yes, please. Thank you.” You sighed, relieved. He knew what you needed without you even having to ask. 

You heard him get up, footsteps padding along until there was a thud and some shuffling coming from Charles’ side. A few warm up scales in and you were already feeling a little less anxious, letting yourself get comfortable. 

“Any requests from the audience?” 

“Been working on anything new?” You yawned, nuzzling a little deeper back into your pillow. 

“I have, actually. It’s still—fuck, how do you say it…a work in progress?”

“Anything you play is perfect.”

“You flatter me.” He snorted. “Alright, here goes nothing.”  

He began to play. You knew jack shit about music, so there wasn’t much you could think of to describe how it sounded, but you could describe how it felt. You could almost feel the emotion pouring from his playing, even through the scratchy quality of the speaker. 

It felt like something you’d hear in the background of a movie montage, lilting and delicate and warm notes swirling together to create a bright melody, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. 

Memories of good times with Charles flashed through your head—all the long days and even longer nights you’d spent together because you thrived in each other’s company, cooking together, binging Netflix shows until you both passed out on the sofa. 

Hushed laughing during dinners at fancy restaurants that Charles could get into by flashing his name, soft conversations accompanied with expensive food and even more expensive wine. 

Day trips up the coast with the top down on the car, pushing the speed limit just to feel an ounce of the freedom that it could give you. Walking through Monte Carlo on late night gelato runs, switching flavors because you both enjoyed each other’s choice more than your own. 

Most of all, you thought of the love you felt for Charles, ever since you’d first met him. You’d never been one to believe in the concept of soulmates, but fuck, it was so easy to think of him as yours. Never had you felt as much for someone as you did for him. 

God, why were you even thinking of those things? 

It would never happen. Any love that Charles had for you would be strictly platonic, limited to however much one could love their best friend. 

Surely he’d drawn inspiration from something else when he’d composed the beautiful piece. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know. 

Soon enough, you’d drifted off like you always did when Charles played, coincidentally right before he came to a lingering stop. 

Had you been awake, you would’ve heard him say that the beautiful piece had been inspired by you. Instead you were fast asleep, still none the wiser to anything. Maybe it was a good thing. You might not have believed it if you’d heard him. 

-------

Charles was on your doorstep first thing in the morning, coffee and pastries in hand when you opened the door for him. 

“Hello, good morning, your savior is here. And with breakfast!” He chirped, coming to just enough of a halt for you to slide an arm around his shoulders in a hug and grab one of the drinks out of the tray before he swept past you.

Bright morning sunlight poured into the open area, washing the whole place aglow. A warm breeze floated in through the ajar window, rattling the shutters only slightly, and you could hear the all too familiar sounds of the city in the morning coming from the streets below. It was a gorgeous picture of peace; one of the apartment’s many fun quirks that convinced you to go for it in the first place. 

The only thing that might’ve rivaled the beauty of the moment was Charles standing at the window, leaning against the sill drinking his coffee while the breeze ruffled his hair. His back was to you as he checked out the view, but even the mere image of him here was nice. 

You sipped your own coffee, smiling to yourself when you realized Charles remembered exactly how you took it. You didn’t even need to look inside the bag to know they were your favorite pastries from the bakery down the street from your former apartment that both you and Charles loved. He was always thoughtful like that. Things like remembering your favorite foods and drinks, and going out of his way to get them as a little pick-me-up. 

It seemed wrong to ruin the moment, but you felt like you had to say something. 

“I’m sorry for waking you up last night.” You sighed, taking a cross-legged seat on a pillow. 

Charles turned away from the window, shaking his head quickly. He took a seat on the floor next to you, long legs stretching out towards your crossed ones to nudge a sneaker against your socked foot. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, I’m glad you called me.” 

“Right, but it’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it? First time on my own and I didn’t even last a whole night.” 

“Not pathetic.” He insisted, entirely firm in his words. He set his cup down as if it could strengthen his point. “It is a change, definitely. You can’t expect yourself to get used to such a big change immediately. It takes time, you know.” 

You messed with the lid of your cup, picking at the plastic with a scowl. “I know. But I can’t always come running to you whenever I need help. It’s not fair to you to have to keep rescuing me every time I need saving.” 

“Okay…” He trailed off, stretching out the last syllable in confusion. “I feel this is about something more than just last night. We can talk about it, if you would like?”

“I don’t know what it is.” You huffed. “I thought I was ready to be on my own, but maybe I’m not. Maybe I don’t know I’m doing and I’ll never figure it out, and—” 

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. Where is this all coming from?” 

“I don’t know,” You repeated, bordering on a whine. “But what I do know is that I can’t always keep relying on you for everything. It’s not good for me, or for you.” 

“You know, you could always just move back home if you’re truly not ready to do things on your own.” Charles offered, taking a casual sip of his own drink.

Home. He said it so casually, like home was with him instead of this new place you’d chosen to make yours. In a way, Charles was your home. Safety, comfort, love—all the things that made something home, you felt with him. 

That was the problem. You didn’t feel right relying on him for all those things, not without him being aware of how you actually felt about him. It seemed like too much of a burden to put on a friend, even one as perfect as Charles. 

His eyes met yours over the rim and he shrugged. “I still don’t know why you were so insistent on moving out in the first place.” 

You sighed, again. There weren’t many ways you could make yourself any clearer. Other than telling Charles one of the real reasons why you had to leave, which again, was more of a last resort (hopefully not at all) type of thing. “It was time—” 

“It was time for you to venture out on your own, yes, I know. But it doesn’t seem to be working out so well right now, does it not?” The last sentence seemed to slip out of Charles’ mouth before he knew what he was saying, because his mouth snapped shut right afterward. “I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I don’t want to argue.” 

But what had been done was done, what had been said was out there for you to know. Your coffee suddenly left a bitter taste in your mouth, and the traffic from outside became glaringly loud. The once peaceful atmosphere had been shattered now that you knew Charles’ true thoughts on it all. 

You stood up, letting your feet take you across the room from him. “No. Tell me more, Charles. Tell me how you really feel.” 

His nose wrinkled at the use of his full name. You never called him Charles unless you were upset with him, which wasn’t that often. Even hearing it come out of your own mouth seemed foreign. 

That seemed to change his reaction, because he stood too instead, doubling down on his words. “Okay. Yes, that is how I feel about you leaving. You barely even talked to me about it, and the next thing I knew, you were packing all your things into boxes! I didn’t understand where this—this sudden desire to leave came from. I still don’t.”

“You don’t have to understand it. It’s already done.” 

“Did I—did I do something wrong?”

You almost faltered. Almost.

“Did you ever think maybe me wanting to leave had nothing to do with you?” 

“Honestly? No. It feels like it has everything to do with me. It feels like you moved out because you didn’t want to be around me anymore!” Charles exclaimed. “And I have kept my mouth shut, I’ve been trying to be supportive of your decision, but I think I have a right to know. Am I why you wanted to leave so badly?” 

“That’s…part of it.” You admitted. Charles froze, brows flying up towards his hairline. “But not because of anything you did. Not because of the reason you’re thinking of.” 

“I don’t really see any other explanation. And I am sorry, but that is a shit excuse. I would’ve thought that you of all people would tell me the truth.” He didn’t sound angry, just disappointed and a little hurt. Somehow that felt worse. You’d rather him be mad at you than hurt by you. 

“I didn’t want to move out.” You said firmly. 

“Then why did you?” 

“I had to! I—I couldn’t live there anymore.” 

“But why?” He sounded desperate, begging for you to clue him in to any reason, anything at all that would help him understand. And god, as scared as you were of changing things by telling Charles how you really felt about him, you were infinitely more scared of losing him for good if you didn’t. 

“Because I’m fucking in love with you, Charles!” You blurted, finally. “I couldn’t live with you any longer, keeping this huge secret all the time, because it truly made me feel like I was about to explode. I just couldn’t do it anymore—pretend like everything was alright when every time I looked at you, all I could think about was how I felt about you! How much I felt for you.” Your voice rose with every word, emotion lacing your tone. 

You could feel the tears burning your eyes, threatening to fall no matter how much you willed them not to. “I just thought, maybe if we lived apart, if we didn’t see each other all the time, maybe those feelings would go away.” 

Charles blinked at you slowly. He scrubbed a hand over his cheek, across his mouth, letting it disappear into the neckline of his hoodie as he continued the motion near his jaw. Still, he said nothing. You weren’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad one, but still you continued. 

“So no, it wasn’t because of anything you did. Or maybe it was, for making it so fucking easy to fall in love with you. I don’t know. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t say anything to me, but I’m not sorry for making the decision on my own. It was for the best.”

There it was, out there in the open at last. It felt like a proverbial weight lifted off your shoulders, but at the same time like a thousand rocks sinking to the bottom of your stomach, because he wasn’t saying anything. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was how you’d fuck up the best friendship you’d ever had. 

Charles was silent for the longest time before he replied, and when he did, his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it before. It felt unnerving. “You could’ve just told me.” 

“Told you?” You had to fight the urge to let out a bitter, watery laugh. “Telling your best friend you’ve fallen in love with him isn’t just something you mention at the bathroom sink one night.” 

“It is, if he feels the same way about you.” 

A coldness crept down your neck, shooting through your veins like you’d just had a bucket of ice cold water dumped over your head. 

“No you’re not—you don't...you can't.” You whispered, disbelieving.

Charles’ brows furrowed in confusion. “What, do you want me to prove it?” 

You couldn’t give him an answer even if you wanted to. You weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to say a damn word, just in case this was all a dream and you'd wake up any second, still alone, still without him there.

He must’ve taken your silence as a yes to his question, because he crossed the room in three strides, took your face in firm hands, and he kissed you. 

Despite your utter shock, you managed to kiss him back clumsily, fingers curling into his hoodie tightly. Charles kissed you like he was afraid to let you go, like you’d slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful enough.

A guiding hand curled around the back of your neck, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss, but only for a few seconds before he broke away, panting. His forehead stayed pressed against yours, soulful green eyes boring into your own in total seriousness.

“Do you believe me now?” 

“Maybe.” You breathed, letting your nose bump against his gently. This was not a dream. Charles was real and here and one hell of a kisser (just as you suspected).

“I am in love with you.” He murmured, stroking his thumb over your cheek fondly. “I have been for a long time. And I never thought you would feel the same way.” 

“I love you, Cha.” You were suddenly brought back to last night, when you’d uttered the same words to him. Only this time, they had a whole different meaning to them. 

This time, you knew Charles loved you in the same way you loved him.

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[amethystwrytes]

Of Course, Professor

Pairing: Law Professor!Lee Know x Female Reader

Genre: Smut. Romantic-ish. Basically just porn with a hint of plot tossed in so I don’t just keyboard smash sex stuff on the page and feel bad about myself. 18+.

Summary: The law professor everyone is scared of generously offers to help you with your school work.

Warnings: There is explicit language. There is explicit sex (oral, penetration, teasing, edging, cumshot). There is a Professor/Student relationship, and IRL I do think that’s super inappropriate BUT this isn’t real life and I promise everything is very consensual, there’s no like “give me sex and you’ll get an A” kinda stuff, so, it’s all very much in my own personal scope of comfort. I wouldn’t write anything I felt was yucky. If any of that rubs you the wrong way though, that’s totally fine, and this one isn’t for you which is completely okay.

A/N: So, once upon a time in my undergrad years I was determined to be a lawyer. For a solid academic year I changed my major to Paralegal Studies because I figured that would be a perfect foundation for law school (smart, right?). Except like, three months in I was miserable and hated everything about it and realized that it absolutely couldn’t be me. I ended up having a similar discussion with my academic advisor/professor - except I didn’t end up fucking them - not that professor anyway (kidding). I always wanted to write a story about that awful year, and now I have - kinda…sort of. With a twist of delicious Lee Know and forbidden love. Yum. 

“Can you stop please?” 

You look at the girl sitting next to you in class. Her name completely escapes you but her eyes are burning lasers at the pen you’ve been clicking nervously in your hands. 

“...Sorry…” 

You apologize and gently set the pen down on your desk. Professor Lee is taking his sweet time passing back the most recent term papers and you dig your nails into your palm in anticipation of your grade. 

To say you’re struggling in his Civil Procedures course is an understatement. In fact, you don’t seem to be doing well in any of the classes you’re taking this semester. The voices of your parents condescendingly telling you “Law School isn’t for everyone and that’s okay,” sound like they’re playing on repeat in an echo chamber. 

If you bomb this paper you’re out. You stayed up almost all night last night going over the pros and cons of dropping out. You went back and forth so long fighting with yourself that you fell asleep thinking about it, and when you woke up the only thing you could think of was letting the universe give you a sign. 

You had worked on your term paper for weeks, carefully piecing it together, you spent so much time in the library that you now know the TA who works at the help desk on a first name basis. So if you flunk it, there’s your magical sign.

“Ms. ___,” Professor Lee sets your paper face down on the desk - bad sign. He leans down just a tad, “Why don’t we meet in my office after class?” - even worse. 

“Yes, Professor,” you nod. You think about not even flipping the stapled monstrosity over, but curiosity gets the better of you. 

There it is, a painful 55% staring back at you in thick, blood-red marker. You spare yourself the trouble of pouring over the thinner red notes made in the margins of every page. You can’t help the tears of frustration that pool in your eyes. 

“Everyone enjoy your break and the time spent with your families, when we return we’ll begin our discussions on Summary Judgement, so please make sure you complete the reading outlined in the syllabus before we see each other again. Dismissed,” Mr. Lee nods and the ruckus of chairs against linoleum and exasperation fill the room. 

Mr. Lee’s office is four floors above the classroom, so you have a few minutes to spare - which you spend in the restroom crying, drying your eyes, then crying again. 

You’re dropping out of Law School. All that work, all that trying, all those late nights - and don’t even start on the amount of money spent on coffee and tuition and fucking textbooks and…you start sobbing again. 

“How did you do?” Seungmin asks when you emerge from the ladies room, his face immediately contorts into a painful frown at your red, puffy face, “That bad huh?” 

“I can’t really talk Seungmin,” you take a deep breath, “I’ve got to go meet Lee in his office before his next class begins.” 

“Fuck,” Seungmin frowns even more, “That man scares the shit out of me.” 

“Thanks,” you say, “That’s helpful.” 

“Sorry. We’re all heading to the Coffee House before everyone starts driving home for the break, do you want to come? After your meeting of course,” he asks. 

“Not today,” you shake your head, “but thank you for asking.” 

He gives you a sympathetic look and your shoulder a tiny squeeze.

You stand outside Professor Lees office for a few moments, gathering yourself. Professor Lee makes everyone nervous. He’s a hard instructor, emotionless sometimes, so direct it’s painful, and it doesn’t help anyone that he’s also devastatingly attractive. He’s a giant walking slab of intimidation. 

You softly knock on the door and he looks up at you from over his glasses as he types something. 

“Ah, Ms. ___, there you are. Come, sit down,” he instructs and you slide through the doorframe and slouch in an old green armchair across from his desk. 

“Just give me one second,” he says slowly as he continues typing, “alright.” 

“I’m sorry sir, for the term paper, I should have done better,” you offer up, electing to go ahead and fall on your own sword.

“There’s no need for apologies Ms. ___, a waste of time in this kind of situation. I would like to speak to you about your grades this semester though. After I graded your term paper, I reached out to some of my colleagues - some of your other professors - and they all had similar reports to give me, can we talk about that?”

You sigh, fanning out your fingers over your thighs, “Please, Professor, you mentioned a moment ago about time wasters - and I don’t want to waste anymore of your time - I’ve decided to drop out of law school.” 

The defeat you feel just saying the words out loud to someone is enough to bring tears back, but you fight them off. You will not cry in Professor Lee Minhos office. Absolutely not. 

Professor Lee purses his lips and nods, “I think that’s probably for the best.” 

Your jaw drops, “Aren’t you supposed to encourage me to do the opposite? To try harder or something?” 

“Miss ___, I fear if you tried any harder your hair might burn out from the roots,” he smiles and if you weren’t so shocked, you’d laugh at the first joke you’ve ever heard him utter. 

Before you can think of something to say, he produces a file folder from his drawers and smacks it on the table making you jump. 

“These are all the papers you’ve written for my class so far this semester. Your papers intrigue me Miss ___.” 

Intrigue? That’s a funny word to use for ‘disgusted and disappointed beyond imagination.’ 

“But you-,” you begin to point out that the highest grade he’s ever given you on a paper was a 68%. Far from intriguing. 

“But…as legal writing? They’re all absolute trash,” he tells you. “What intrigues me about them is the way you write, it’s quite good, every time I read one I feel like I’m in the room with a friend who’s trying to sort of explain law to me, the problem is you just don’t think, rationalize, or talk like a lawyer. I noticed in your transcript that your undergraduate degree was in education, and you had a 4.0 GPA. I can’t help but wonder, Miss ___, what career are you looking for?” 

“A…a lawyer,” you say in a quiet voice, staring at a knick on his desk. 

He looks skeptical as he leans back in his chair, “Why?” 

“Because…” oh fuck it all, you may as well just say it, “because my father, my mother, and my older brother are all lawyers, who went here.” 

“I see, so one could deduce that you wanted to be a lawyer because they wanted you to be one, they expected it of you?” he concludes. 

You smile comically, the truth is much more pathetic. 

“No, actually, they all told me I couldn’t do it. They told me I wasn’t smart enough, sharp enough, bold enough. I wanted to teach art to school children, but when that’s exactly what I elected to study, their comments started. I was just a private joke between the three of them, and I hated it, so I wanted to show them that I could be a lawyer.” 

“You came here to study law out of stubborn spite?” he reiterates. 

“Yes sir, I did,” you look at your lap and play with a rogue string from your sweater cuff. 

“That’s quite impressive, Miss ___, to go through all that trouble, strife, and money to do something you have no interest in just to best your family.” 

“Well when you say it like that I sound like a psycho,” you laugh timidly, trying to keep the sludge of humiliation down. 

“I don’t think you’re a psycho, I think you’re a bright woman who wanted to show her family they were wrong, but just ended up making herself miserable,” his expression is soft, almost understanding. “However, as your professor, I don’t think I could recommend continuing with law school. This is your first year, with first year level studies, and you’re struggling this much all for something you don’t even want, it will only get more difficult from here.” 

You nod, “You’re probably right sir,” you stand, “I should get to the admin office before they close for the break, I’m sorry for wasting your time,” you give him a respectful smile and grab your bag.

“Miss ___,” he motions for you to sit back down, “First of all, you’ve not wasted a single second of my time. Second, I don’t recommend dropping out right now, I think you should finish this semester at least.” 

“You just said…”

“I said I don’t think you should continue with law school, and I don’t. However, we’re past the official mid-point of the semester, the cut off to withdraw for a full refund of tuition was last week, if you go now you’ll never get that money back.” 

You plop back down in the chair, even more defeated, “I didn’t realize that,” you drag your hands down your face in frustration, “shit.”

Professor Lee chuckles, “I do have an alternative plan for you, if you’re willing to hear it and put in the work,” he offers. 

You sit up straight, “Yes, of course sir.” 

“I suggest you finish this semester, and I will help you - starting with rewriting your latest term paper. I’ll even try to assist you with some of your other courses, if you’d like. If we work diligently enough, you can finish this semester with an acceptable GPA, that keeps your academic record away from probation or academic expulsion,” he explains. 

“You would do that?” you ask in disbelief. 

“Well, of course, I am a professor after all. What sort would I be if I wasn’t willing to help my students?” 

“I don’t know what to say Professor,” you smile, “that’s too generous.” 

“It’s not a problem Miss ___. Now, let’s talk strategy, I assume you don’t plan on spending break with your family?” he guesses. 

“No sir, they’re too busy anyway, I plan on staying in my apartment off campus during the break,” you answer. 

“Splendid. This evening I have a night class to teach, but perhaps we could meet tomorrow? The library will be closed for break, but my students enjoy meeting up together at that coffee place downtown, uh, Coffee Shack or something,” he struggles. 

“The Coffee House?” you help him and try to hold back a grin.

“Yes, would you like to meet there, say, 1PM tomorrow afternoon? We can go over some of your papers together and I’ll help you with your legal writing technique,” he asks. 

“Yes, I’ll be there sir, I really can’t thank you enough, truly I appreciate this,” you tell him. 

“I look forward to it, Miss ___.” 

📖 ❤️

You adjust your backpack as you walk towards the Coffee House doors. You packed your laptop, all your text books, notes, and a few other things because you weren’t sure what Professor Lee would want to cover. The weight of it all is dragging you down and you have to hunch over a bit to balance it. 

“My goodness, here, let me get that for you Miss ___,” Professor Lee greets you at the door, he seems to have already picked a table near the front and grabs your bag with a grunt. “Did you pack your entire house?” he teases. 

“I didn’t know what you’d want me to bring, so I brought all my school things,” you laugh. 

“Well, I suppose it won’t matter that the library is closed since you brought it with you,” he chuckles and you take the seat beside him. 

“Should we start?” you open your laptop and power on. 

“I thought perhaps you’d like a beverage?”

“Oh,” you look behind you at the register, “Yes, I suppose we should caffeinate,” you smile. 

“What would you like?” He stands up and brings his wallet out. 

“Oh please sir, let me pay, it’s the least I could do for all of your help,” you beg. 

“Nonsense, as much as I love to argue Miss ___ I don’t see the point over a cup of coffee, what would you like? Are you hungry?” 

“No, I ate lunch before coming, just a latte for me, small,” you concede, “and thank you…again.” 

He smiles and departs from the table. You watch him in the line from where you sit. Seeing Professor Lee like this feels…different. In a less formal setting he’s almost approachable, and you’re starting to see things about him that you don’t in class. Like his generosity, and kindness, the man even has a sense of humor and you think of texting Seungmin about it but stop yourself. You want to keep this all a secret. You don’t want anyone knowing that you’re in such desperate need of assistance with your courses, but also you want to keep this side of Professor Lee to yourself. 

You could think of worse ways to spend your Saturday afternoon than with an attractive law professor who’s willing to help you pass your classes. You wonder if he’s aware that all his students find him so hot, or if it’s something that’s never occurred to him. He doesn’t wear a ring on any of his fingers, which tells you he isn’t married, but that doesn’t mean he’s single. You can’t imagine that he’s not seeing anyone. In class he’s usually got on some academia aesthetic looking suit on, lots of tweeds and browns - today he wears a fitted pair of jeans, and a navy sweater with a white collared button up fashioned underneath, the sleeves pushed up his forearms. His jet black hair isn’t styled like it usually is in class, and hangs long and loose around his face. He looks like such a boyfriend…

You blush and go back to focusing on your laptop. What the hell was that? He’s your professor. Which is actually kind of enticing…

You press your lips together and roll your eyes at yourself. Stop with the intrusive sexual thoughts about Professor Lee - the man is trying to save your ass, not spank it - having inappropriate daydreams, no matter how justified they may be, is unacceptable. 

“Here we go,” he comes back to the table and sets two mugs on the surface as he takes his seat again. 

“Thanks,” you smile politely, trying not to look at him. If you don’t look at him, maybe you won’t think about how cute he is and instead focus on what you ought to be: your failing grades. 

“So, let’s start with the main issue of your papers. Writing, in the legal sense, is cut and dry. It’s all about facts, findings, and nothing expressive or personal, which is where you seem to have the most trouble,” he begins and you try to absorb the information instead of noticing the way his lips look while sipping his coffee. 

This endeavor may be harder for you than just pulling your grades up. 

📖 ❤️

“I think that was a very productive first meeting,” he says optimistically as you start piling things back into your backpack. 

“I think so too,” you nod. Productive, yes - but now the real work begins and you’ll have to go home and actually re-write the damned thing. 

Professor Lee carries your backpack out the door, “Where’s your car?” 

“Oh, it’s at home, I just live a few blocks away,” you point in the general direction of your apartment. 

“You mean to tell me you carried this while walking from your house?” he holds the backpack with two hands for dramatics and you giggle. 

“It’s not that terrible, how long has it been since you were carrying books around, Professor? Surely you remember the struggle,” you tease. 

“I suppose it’s been a bit, here,” he reaches in his pocket and the SUV beside you beeps, he opens the passenger door, “I’ll drive you home so you don’t have to endure the struggle.” 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that sir,” you shake your head. 

“It’s fine, it’s a small college town Miss ___, I can get literally anywhere in less than five minutes, especially since the majority of students are gone this week. Let me be chivalrous for you,” he smiles and you melt a little bit. 

“Well, if you insist,” you look up at him as you slide into the passenger seat. 

“I do,” he closes the door, then places your bag in the backseat before coming around to the drivers side. 

“Are you always this difficult, Miss ___? Or are you just trying to be overly polite because I’m your professor?” he asks when you point him down the street towards your apartment. 

“Difficult, sir?” you look at him wide-eyed. 

“Mmhmm,” he nods, “You didn’t want me to buy your coffee, you nearly refused my ride home electing to carry a small library on your back while you walk,” a look of panicked concern washes over his face and he looks over at you, “This isn’t making you uncomfortable in any way is it? Being alone with me?” 

“No! No, absolutely not,” you assure him, though you wager that your thoughts about him would certainly make him uncomfortable. “I’m just so incredibly grateful for your help, and you continue to go out of your way for me. It’s just never something I…” you stop yourself. 

“Never something you what?” he presses. 

You laugh awkwardly, “It’s just not ever something I expected from you, given your reputation with the other students.” 

“Ah, yes,” he sucks his teeth, “My reputation of being an uptight jerk who doesn’t like anyone.” 

“I would never use those words sir,” you tell him. 

“You might not, but I have the internet too, I’ve seen the threads about me on social medias,” he shares. 

“You read those?” your voice raises at least three octaves. 

“Of course, I’m only human, curiosity gets the best of me from time to time.” 

“I don’t participate in those conversations,” you shake your head, “I understand that it’s only natural for students to want to know about the personalities of their upcoming professors, but the bias that occurs in those threads is absurd.” 

“I agree, though sometimes they can be helpful, to my ego at least,” he laughs. 

“How so?” you wonder, because you don’t remember seeing anything about his classes online that would feed his ego. 

“Some of my students may not like my personality, but they like looking at me,” he grins. 

“Professor Lee! That’s scandalous,” you laugh and playfully smack his shoulder. 

“What?” he laughs with you, “I’ve got to take something positive from it! 75% of those comments are atrocious, but I’m quite proud that I scored three hot peppers on the professor hotness scale.”

“Oh my God,” you cover your mouth, “I cannot believe I’m sitting in your car having this conversation,” you giggle. 

“Is this your building?” he points. 

“Yes, it is.” 

He parks on the street and you take a deep breath when he exits the car. He knows his students think he’s hot, and now he knows that you know he knows. You pat yourself on the back for indicating you’ve never participated in those threads before the conversation took a turn towards hot peppers. Though you are 100% guilty of voting for his peppers. 

He opens your door, hanging your backpack across his shoulder. 

“I’ll walk this up for you,” he offers and you swallow hard. 

“Sure,” you smile, your heart pounding out of your chest. Professor Lee Minho is about to see the inside of your apartment. You try to recall the state you left the place in. You remember doing your dishes before you left, but that’s about the only productive thing you can remember doing today. 

You unlock your door and flip the lights on. Your art supplies are everywhere, and you have a bag of laundry by the door because you plan on hitting the laundromat this evening. In trying to move it out of the way you knock it over, a pair of your underwear spilling out onto the floor right at his feet as he walks through. 

“Jesus,” you mutter, humiliated, as he looks down at you grabbing up the black lace thong and shoving it back into the bag. 

To your utter relief, he says nothing about your undergarments. He sets your backpack down and looks around.

“Can I offer you anything to eat or drink?” 

“Did you do all these?” he walks forward into the room towards the area you dry your paintings in. Canvas after canvas sits up against the wall, some completed, most unfinished. 

“Oh, yes,” you say, walking up beside him, “This semester has been really frustrating for me, and painting helps.” 

“Well, they’re beautiful, truly - you’re quite talented,” he looks down at you, “I can see why teaching art is a passion for you, you’ve certainly got quite a knack for it.” 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

“Teaching is very rewarding,” he adds, “I think that you should pursue your original dream Miss ___. You’ve clearly got a lot to offer the world,” he smiles down at you and you catch his gaze, a few quiet seconds pass as you look into his dark eyes. 

“You could just call me by my first name, ___, if you wanted,” you say softly, “and um, thank you, for complimenting my art.” 

“You’re very welcome, ___,” he responds, staring at you again. You watch his eyes flit down to your lips and your heart speeds up again. He suddenly clears his throat and looks back at the paintings, “I think we should make the most of the week, since classes aren’t meeting, this is a perfect time for you to catch up with your studies. Tomorrow is Sunday, which is the day I typically devote to catching up on grading, and I do have midterm grades to enter. Perhaps Monday?” he asks. 

“Monday, yeah. That works, um, I have a shift at work on Monday morning, but I’ll be free after 3PM.” 

“Perfect, we could meet at the Coffee House again, around 4:30?” 

“Yeah, that sounds good.” 

“Great,” he begins walking back to the door, “and, um, while we’re together - working on your coursework I mean - feel free to call me Minho. However when classes resume, it’s probably best to address me as Professor Lee.” 

“Of course, Professor,” you agree. “Thank you, er…Minho…for everything today.” 

“You’re most welcome,” he opens the door then pauses, turning his head slightly in your direction, “Nice panties, by the way. See you Monday!” 

You stand there, speechless, staring at the closed door. 

📖 ❤️

Monday afternoon you can’t help but notice that Professor Lee - Minho - sits closer to you at the table in the coffee shop as he helps you study for one of your other classes. You don’t blame him, truth be told, you spent over an hour after your shift at the bookstore getting ready, hoping he’d look at you the same way he did Saturday. You are, without a doubt, down bad. To impress him even further you’ve got a surprise for him.

“I re-wrote my term paper,” you blurt as the two of you are clearing up the table after studying. 

“Already?” he looks at you. 

“I worked on it all night Saturday, and most of the day on Sunday. Do you want me to email it to you?” 

“Absolutely,” he smiles, “Good girl.” 

Fuck off, he did not just say that. You bite down on your lip and your thighs press together as you bring up your student email. You attach the file and send it to him. 

“It should be in your inbox the next time you check,” you say…like a good girl. Swoon. 

“Great, um, I was wondering - and just tell me to shut up if you want to - but I was wondering if you had plans this evening?” 

Your heart grows wings and begins to fucking fly. 

“No,” you shake your head, “I have zero plans for a Monday evening in a town that’s practically shut down.” 

He chuckles, “Right. So, would you want to join me for dinner maybe?” 

You at least pretend to mull it over instead of just shouting YES in some unflattering, desperate tone. 

“Where were you planning on eating?” you ask. 

“There’s a really nice place I like, it’s about a twenty minute drive out of town, but the food is impressive, never had a bad dish there,” he shares. 

“I am hungry,” you say, “I’d love to.” 

“Good, shall we?” 

📖 ❤️

“Are we celebrating anything special this evening?” the waiter asks as he sets two glasses of water down, “A first date? An anniversary perhaps?” 

“No.” 

Both of you answer him at the same time, and try to hold your laughter in when the poor man looks taken back. 

“Okay,” he says, “Can I get you all anything to drink from our wine or cocktail menu?” 

“I’ll have a glass of this pinot, chilled, please,” you point to the wine and the waiter writes it down. 

“I’ll have the same,” Minho smiles. 

“I’ll get those right out.” 

Minho bites his lip and stares down at the tablecloth, you frown. 

“Is everything alright?” you ask. 

“Everything’s fine,” he says, “I’m just trying to remind myself that nothing inappropriate is happening here, I’m having dinner with one of my female students, but you are an adult and so am I and it’s fine.” 

“I won’t be your student after this semester,” you point out, “I don’t know if that’s helpful or not though.” 

“It is,” he nods, then tilts his head, “yet somehow I still feel like I’m misbehaving.” 

“It’s only food, how is that misbehaving?” 

“It’s not what I’m doing,” he bites his lip again and looks up at you, “It’s what I’m thinking.” 

You take a sip of water, your body practically vibrating with curiosity, “What is it that you’re thinking, exactly?” 

“Things that I shouldn’t be thinking about my student,” he says quietly. 

“This isn’t high school, Professor, this isn’t even undergrad. Don’t be harsh on yourself, I’m sure whatever you’re thinking about isn’t a bad thing,” you point out, hoping you sound cool and collected and not like you’re ready for him to take you right on this table. 

“So if I was thinking about fucking you after class in my office, across my desk, that wouldn’t be a bad thing?” 

You nearly choke on your water. Before you can respond the waiter returns with your glasses of wine, not a moment too soon. 

“I’ll let you guys look over the menu and come back in a few minutes.” 

You clear your throat once the waiter is gone, “I think fucking me on your desk would probably be inappropriate,” you smile, “especially to your neighboring colleagues. I have quite a mouth on me,” you say, opening your menu. 

You can feel him staring at you. “I’d very much like to hear it.” 

“Maybe you will, I guess we’ll see,” you shrug. 

The smile that spreads across his face is so dangerously mischievous, your clit throbs where you sit and you shift uncomfortably, only making it worse. 

📖 ❤️

The sexual tension between the two of you could be cut with a knife as you make your way back to his car. You reach for the door handle, but he grabs your arm and spins you around, your back pushed up against the door. 

His lips crash against yours, arms caging you in which is completely fine by you. You bury your fingers in his hair on either side of his head but he pulls away. 

“I want it to be clear I have never had any kind of sexual relationship with a student, ever,” he says quickly, then his lips are against yours again. 

“I believe you,” you manage between lips and tongues. 

He pulls away again, “And the only reason I’m pursuing this is because I can’t fucking resist you and you’re not going to be my student again after this semester,” he adds, then more kissing. 

“Got it,” you mumble into his mouth. 

Again he pulls away, “Seriously, even if you don’t quit law school I can never have you in class again, okay?” 

“Yes! Fuck that place, I’m done, and even if I wasn’t - I wouldn’t take you again, you’re an uptight jerk of a professor, remember?” you tease him, then desperately pull him back onto your lips. 

He shoves you harder against the car, his knee coming between your legs and you press yourself down on his thigh. You moan softly into his mouth and his hand smacks the side of the car. 

“Get in, fuck, please get in the fucking car.” 

He scrambles around to the drivers side as you jump in. 

“Your place or mine?” he asks, turning the ignition. 

“Which is closer?” you ask, pulling the seat belt so hard and quick that it locks up. 

“Uh…mine… mine I think.” 

“Then there’s your answer,” you tell him. 

Five minutes of him burning rubber down the highway is too long for you not to be touching him. You reach over and caress his thigh through his jeans, moving higher and higher until you find what you’re looking for in the darkness. 

He hisses as you stroke and massage his hard length through the fabric. 

You unbuckle your seat belt, “Are you as good a driver as you are a professor?” 

“I…why?”

You scoot as far as you can and lean over, undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, sliding your hand through the opening of his boxers until you feel the warm, velvety skin of his cock in your fist. 

“Oh fuck…oh my fucking…” he pants, his knuckles turning stark white around the steering wheel. 

You unbuckle his seatbelt as well and help him get it out of the way before pulling his cock from the confines of his jeans. 

You stroke him a few times, then let a glob of spit drip from your lips onto him so you can continue stroking more comfortably. 

“God…” 

You take him in your mouth and suck, running your tongue over the tip. The way he’s nearly whimpering, eyes so wide on the road, delights you. You put your mouth on him again, taking him deep in your throat, taking turns stroking and licking. 

“I’m going to cum,” he whispers hoarsely after several minutes, “I don’t have anything to…” he looks around frantically but you shake your head, popping your mouth off of him momentarily. 

“I can take it,” you whisper, then suck him between your lips once more. You can feel the base of his cock twitch and brace yourself, spurts of hot cum follow seconds later and you take it all from him greedily, swallowing then wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Holy shit,” he says through clenched teeth. “That was so fucking hot.” 

“Thank you,” you grin, pulling down the visor so you can fix yourself in the mirror. The “kiss proof” lipstick you wore today is evidently not “road head proof” and you clean up the edges of your mouth. 

He reaches over and grabs your hand in his, squeezing and rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb while he speeds down the road. 

📖 ❤️

The door to Minhos apartment isn’t even locked before he shoves you against it and presses his mouth to yours. 

“I want to make you feel so fucking good,” he whispers, trailing kisses down your neck. He drops to his knees and unbuttons your pants, pulling them down your legs. You kick your shoes off so he can get the pants off completely. 

He looks up at you and grins, tracing the lines of the black lace thong that toppled over at your apartment, “I was wishing very much that I’d get to see you in these,” he says, pressing his tongue against the tiny bit of cloth. 

You gasp at the way his lips move, teasing and licking through the thin lace, “Are you really going to eat me out against the door?” 

“Mmm,” he moans against your clit and your legs jerk, “Yes,” he says hooking his fingers in the strings and pulling the soaking wet cloth down your legs. 

“No patience at all Professor, I’m shocked,” you tease. 

“So… you can call me Minho,” he smiles, kissing and licking trails back up your legs, “but in class and when I’m fucking your pretty pussy feel free to use Professor.” 

“Absolutely Professor Lee,” you rest your head against the door as his tongue wiggles between your slick. “Fuck!” 

He finds your clit and wraps his lips around, gently sucking. You lay one of your thighs over his shoulder and try to steady yourself while he laps and sucks you off. You grab his hair with your fingers and move with him, fucking his face and listening to the delightful slurping, wet sounds erupting through the quiet room. 

“Oh…just like that, right there,” you whine when he begins to softly lick the perfect spot, “fuckfuckfuck…yes!” you release his hair from your fist and hold yourself against the wall as your legs begin to quake, cunt throbbing in rhythmic spasms as he milks you with his lips. 

“Oh my god,” you groan, trying to stand straight. He finally gets around to locking the door then picks you up, carrying you down a hallway. He pours you onto the bed and you watch as he strips himself of clothing, you follow suit, though half your outfit is in his foyer. 

You lay back, bottom lip between your teeth as you watch him crawl over you, positioning himself between your legs. 

“You’re sure this is okay?” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours, the head of his cock leaking against your open cunt. 

“Yes, fuck, yes I want you,” you assure him, nails digging into his shoulder. He makes a gruff noise deep in his throat and lines himself up with your opening. You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to push into you and he does, slow and deep. You both moan into each other at the sensation of it.  

Slowly he begins to move quicker, still deep, but urgently. The sound of skin against skin intoxicating. He sits up a bit, your hips coming with him and he grabs them, using you as an anchor to thrust into you. 

“Minho…” his name comes out as a whisper, your eyes screwed shut. “So close…” 

“No, no,” he tsks, slowing down and pulling himself out, pushing the head of his cock against your clit. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

He slides his cock against you until you start squirming beneath him, your clit still sensitive from his front door excursions. “Please? Fuck…” you whine loudly. 

“You want it?” he asks in a growl, stuffing himself inside you then pulling out again. 

“Yes! Yes! Please!” you cry, your nails scraping against the sides of his legs. 

“Are you sure baby?” he smirks, pushing into you and pulling out slowly several times. Your orgasm begins to build again and you meet his thrusts with your hips, chasing it. Until he pulls out again. 

“What are you doing?” you groan, half laughing and out of your mind. 

“Beg a little,” he urges, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock but pulling away every time you try to push against it. 

You snap your eyes open, the sight of him looking down at you makes you unhinged. “Please, Professor Lee, please let me cum,” you say it as sweetly and earnestly as you can muster. 

His eyes practically roll back in his head as he lines up with you again and pushes in deep, his hands fly back to your hips and he drags you on and off his cock until your vision goes white with the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. 

“Sit up, please,” he begs breathlessly as he pulls away, stroking himself. You do as you’re told and watch as his lips part, his hand stills and shots of pearly strings shoot across your breasts. 

“Hold on,” he says when he can move again, then disappears behind a door, emerging a few moments later with a warm damp hand towel. He kisses you deeply as he cleans his cum off your chest. 

“That was so fucking good,” you whisper, taking his face in your hands. 

“Yes,” he sighs, pulling you down beneath the blankets with him, “Yes it was.” 

He holds you close to him, your eyes getting heavier, “I think my books are still in your car. We could go over the paper on tort law I bombed over breakfast tomorrow?” 

He chuckles and nods, “It’s a date.” 

📖 ❤️

You sit in Professor Lees classroom as he passes back the latest exam. Term is almost over and everyone seems to be reeling with nerves around you. 

He slows beside your desk and lays your test down, “Much better, Miss ___, much better.” 

Seungmin looks over at your test, “Hey! Not bad,” he smiles cheerfully. 

“I’ve had a lot of help this semester,” you smile.

At the bottom of the last page you read the note of thin red ink,

See you at my place tonight?

The End

Endnote:

I am in my Lee Know slut era. I will not be taking questions about my worship of him at this time, thank you. As always, if you made it far enough to read this, please accept my virtual smooch.

Also as always this is unbeta’d bc that’s typically how I roll so it could be absolute trash but that’s okay bc we’re just having fun.

[aimedis]

guy & honey headcanons 🍕🍯

"you are getting close.. hi! hi baby, i love you..."

honey calls guy “baby” occasionally (it's quite frequent actually) and he loves it so much

guy is good at reigning himself in now because of the one time honey seemed to get a little too exasperated with him and he felt horrible and closed his mouth for the rest of the day (they had a talk about boundaries and each person’s needs in their relationship and it’s never happened again)

honey has little moments of being clingy with guy but in the way that they just like to hold him and tell him that they love him without snarky comments (they claim they can’t do it all the time because they can’t have guy getting a big head, them being mean to him is to keep the world in balance) 

guy physically can’t handle it when honey flirts back with him or initiates any affection, he gets very very flustered and his eloquence flies out the window (cue guy’s face blowing up red and honey laughing at him)

it doesn’t matter how long they’ve been together, sometimes honey being any more than two inches in front of guy makes him nervous as hell

sometimes honey can’t help but smile at guy all adoring like

honey loves playing with guy's hair. sometimes when he's talking, they'll just run their fingers through it and it automatically makes him shut up and lean into their hand

honey and guy don't argue a lot and when they do it doesn't really get heated, they just talk for hours on end about whatever they're disagreeing about

they have movie nights where they just watch really shitty movies/shows and make fun of them while eating candy and snacks

honey sometimes plays horror/thriller movies on purpose just so guy can snuggle up to them in fear and hide in their neck (also so he clings onto them at bedtime)

guy almost never wants to be big spoon (when they both want to be little spoon, they'll rock paper scissors for it but if he loses, guy starts whining so much that honey just lets him be little spoon anyways)

sometimes guy comes home from a long day and can't stand the thought of speaking another word so honey just puts on his favourite show and holds him

honey plays solitaire and they're not very good at it (guy finds them raging over the fucking card game at their computer)

honey does their work in bed sometimes and guy just snuggles up to them to fall asleep to the keyboard clicking sounds

guy is only semi-good at cooking anything that's not pizza and honey is really good at so they do most of the cooking

guy bakes a lot though (he stress and apology bakes)

whenever the two are on the couch together, more often than not guy's head is on honey's lap

honey has adapted guy's colourful vocabulary subconsciously and the only reason they noticed, was because when they were speaking to a friend they said something guy would say as a joke and the friend was like "...what?"

the two have a billion inside jokes

honey gets stressed out very often and guy just holds their hand while they rant

a lot of the time when guy is rambling about nothing, honey is just playing with his fingers

honey's clothes are also guy's clothes

guy gets jealous frequently. but it's like a play jealous. honey can't even speak of another person's name or he'll go on a 20 minute rant about how they don't need anyone else in their life other than him (as a joke of course)

honey's type of jealous is a raised eyebrow and a "hm."

guy got his wisdom teeth taken out and he was in a constant cycle of "you're so pretty i wish you were my partner" "i am your partner, guy" "...really?? :0" for three hours until he fell asleep long enough for the anesthesia to wear off

they're both usually awake at the same time in the morning but guy usually leaves first. honey kisses him in the three exact spots every single day before he leaves (forehead, nose, and lips)

sometimes guy bites honey when they're not paying enough attention to him

their song is good-old fashioned lover boy (remastered 2011) by queen

guy just stares at honey a lot, admiring them

honey also stares back at guy when he's talking. guy has stopped mid-rant so many times because they were looking at him so deeply

guy loves kissing honey on the lips

honey loves kissing guy's forehead

both of their love languages are quality time and acts of service

they have "nuh uh" "yuh huh" battles every day

sometimes guy calls honey when he's on break just to talk because the people at his job don't deserve the level of yap he gets when he's with them

guy is constantly trying to get honey to stay in bed with him and sleep in

whenever honey does or says something really sweet, guy starts crying because he knows how hard it is for them to show their affection so blatantly

honey "helps" guy shave (they're just doing it for him)

guy does honey's hair for them

they're the type of couple to do different things in the bathroom at the same time (guy will be brushing his teeth while honey showers)

they watch celebrity scandal recap videos in bed together

honey has fallen asleep during one of guy's rants before (his voice relaxes them unfortunately)

honey is just as much of a menace to guy as he is to them

whenever anything happens, the other is always the first to know (work drama, family drama, big news etc.)

[penelopeswifey]

ACCIDENTALLY YOURS !

WRITTEN PROLOUGE

—

" Thoughts on Balladeer? Well, he's okay.. but I think he's kind of overhyped, I mean all he has is his looks.. c'mon, lets be honest he wouldn't be famous if he wasn't good looking.. "

You said without any care, laughing at the chats reaction tons of debates starting up in chat, it was around 3am? a late night stream. You couldn't fall asleep so you decided to stream to your fans who were also up late at night, lazily playing the low quality game your viewers suggested only the sounds of keyboard smashing to be heard. You yawned, maybe it was the mood or the dim lights but you felt your eyelids getting heavier.

Yawning more, you apologized to your viewers saying that you were too tired to continue smiling at their goodnights and comforting words, you started lazily moving your cursor to click "End Stream," when, in your sleepy haze, you misclicked. A different tab opens up.. Your writing document, still open from earlier when you were editing the fic.

Except, this wasn’t just any fanfic.

It was THE fanfic. The fanfic you spend a total of 2 hours on every night to update to your small fanbase  .. and the pairing? None other than Scaramouche, the very idol you just ridiculed on stream as “ overhyped "

For a solid few minutes, you stared in horror, unsure if you were dreaming or hallucinating. Then reality hit, and so did the panic.

" W- Wait?! No- No!! !" You fumbled for the mouse, your fingers shaky, eyes wide as you tried to close the tab. But it was too late. The chat had already exploded and damage has already been done..

Chat messages flew by at lightning speed..

h3izoufan: what.. what was that 💀

arcticmonkeyslover662: : LNFAOO WAS THAT A FUCKING BALLADEER FANFIC???

luumine_718: didn't you just say you thought he was overrated?? 😭😭

The chat keeps going, you couldn't even focus on a message before it disappears into the hundreds of others appearing

Your brain scrambled for an explanation, but the damage was done. You swallowed, looking at the screen into your chat.

" Listen. I- I was just.. I was just curious!! ," you stammered, your voice a higher pitch than usual. " Be serious, it's seriously just research?! I mean, everyone has read a fanfic once in their life— it's just curiosity! You guys are misunderstanding everything! " You said, eyes wide, stammering and a very, *very*, red face.

The chat wasn't buying it at all, having the time of their lives seeing you distressed

ree_1029: bro?? what research needs to look into " scaramouches smoldering gaze " 💀💀🙏 dpwm

yunjinslover: what the fuck are you writing LMFAOO 😭😭 ykw girl that's real tho can't even judge

Your eyes finally glanced at the page still open, horrified to realize just how romantic the scene was. There was no way of talking your way out of this one.

Just why did you have to write about his gaze multiple times?! Are you that fucking desperate?!

With a sigh and a very awkward laugh, you clicked out the tab. " Guys. I was seriously just practicing my creative writing skills. " You felt your face heat up even more as the chat continued the teasing,.

You sat there, staring at the chaos you had  unleashed. The chat, a whirlwind of laughter, teasing, and judgment, was moving faster than you could process. Some were full-on laughing at your situation, others mocked and reminded you of your earlier comments, and a few seemed genuinely angry

You nervously fidgeted with your mouse, your face practically burning as you tried to figure out how to salvage what was left of your dignity.

"Listen… before you all go crazy, let’s not blow this out of proportion, okay? You guys are overreacting.. " you pleaded, feeling the words get stuck in your throat. " I've said it so many times, it's just creative writing!! "  Your attempt to brush it off as a casual hobby fell flat, as the chat continued to descend into a storm of laughter and teasing, this has got to be the worst day of your entire career- not even career, your life!

yndefender: creative writing practice about ' his voice that compared to an angel's symphony ' ?? okay.. 🤔

You nearly choked on air, knowing the EXACT scene they were quoting from. Why did I have to write that part?? It wasn't even necessary in the plot! You cursed yourself internally.

As the teasing continued to flood the chat, the initial shock began to wear off, and reality hit you like a ton of bricks. You felt the weight of your earlier comments pressing down on you. Sure, you were putting on a casual front, but the embarrassment was still there..

“Okay. ” you said, your voice wavering a bit as you tried to regain some composure. “I think it’s time for me to end the stream before I embarrass myself even more. You guys are too much tonight.. overreacting so much for what.. "

The chat erupted in a flurry of reactions, with some pleading for you to stay and others playfully mocking your desperate need to escape.

realbeyonce3: nooo 🥺 don't leave dawg I still wanna know more about your thoughts on scaramouches smoldering gaze LMFAOOO

You could feel your face heat up again. “ Your all too cruel.. " Your voice was barely above a whisper, the shame creeping back in full force. “ I'm ending the stream.. it's already late.. "

As you scrolled through the chat one last time, you saw messages filled with laughter and teasing, but also support. Despite that, the overwhelming embarrassment felt like a heavy weight on your shoulders.

With a shaky breath, you forced a smile. “ Thanks for tuning in tonight.. Remember, it's just creative writing practice. ” The chat erupted again with laughter at your words.

“ Goodnight, everyone. I'll see you soon! Remember, just creative writing practice! ” you added quickly, your attempt at humor falling flat as you quickly clicked the “End Stream” button.

The screen showed the ended stream notification, and you exhaled deeply, slumping back in your chair. The laughter faded, but the shame remained, a dull ache in your chest. You could already imagine the videos that would circulate, you buried your face in your hands, feeling so nervous.

“ What the hell was I thinking.. ” you muttered, your face still buried in your hands as you tried to shake off the embarrassment. Recalling everything that happened, it was so. so. cringeworthy.

“ creative writing practice? Shit..” you whispered to yourself, trying to convince yourself that it was just a silly mistake. But deep down, you knew it was going to eat you alive for a while.

Putting your phone on silent and setting it aside on the counter you landed on your bed, looking up at the ceiling recalling every moment from that stream. Your face turned bright red again, grabbing a pillow and screaming into it as loud as you could. Violently punching the pillow until you tired yourself out and just laid there.. hugging the now messed up pillow as you started to feel your eyelids getting heavier.

" I'll just .. clear things up tomorrow. "

You thought to yourself as you finally fell asleep, falling into a relaxed state. Unbeknownst to you.. your phone began buzzing with notifications.. Wow. That's one way to go viral.

ACCIDENTALLY YOURS !

SYNOPSIS: You, a well-known streamer, have always kept your two hobbies separate. By day, you entertain thousands with your snarky commentary, but by night, you secretly write. fanfiction about your favorite idol, Balladeer. It was a guilty pleasure—until a late-night stream led to a slip of the tongue and exposed your secret to the world!

In a single moment of poor judgment and a misclick, which by the way was totally not your fault!.. I think.. clips and memes about you spread like wildfire! It was embarrassing enough for everyone to know about your fanfiction, but it spiraled down even further when they discovered you were writing about the very idol you  constantly claimed was overrated.

Just as you wallowed in self-pity, a notification pings on your phone. A familiar username and a blue checkmark.

Oh.

accidentally yours master list // chap 1 ->

a/n: help!! I'm so embarrassed, I sincerely apologize if the writing seems horrible I'm still improving! Prologue is complete, really excited to start!

taglist:

@kaeuri @kazumiku @kyouzki @skyoverkill1 @eternallykira-143 @lalalaloveallmydays @simonisferal

[xprakzif]

matt craves his girlfriend while she’s streaming

warning: smut;MDNI;oral(fem receiving)

streamer!fem!reader x matt

“i don’t know about y’all, but it’s 2am and i’m still not tired!” she was streaming minecraft with her bestfriend, checking the chat every so often and interacting with them.

she was a well-known streamer, thanks to her friendship with the triplets. her and matt had been in a relationship for a few months now, but their viewers were unaware for privacy reasons.

as her nails clacked across the keyboard, the door of her room opened revealing matt rubbing his eyes and adjusting to the light of the room. he had fell asleep in her living room while she streamed, to avoid any incidents.

glancing at him, she signaled with her hand that she was still live. he didn’t care, he was in need.

she shifted her focus back to the monitor. unaware he was getting closer until he kneeled in front of her making her jump and check her camera to make sure he wasn’t in frame.

he crawled under the desk that had enough space just for him. she kept switching between him and the game, trying her best to be discreet as she was confused.

he pushed his finger up to his lips locking eyes with her to make sure she stood quiet. his fingers caressed her thighs up to the waistband of her pajama pants.

on the other end her friend was rambling and she was trying to stay focused. “come here, y/n. i have a surprise for you!”

“coming,” she shifted in her gaming chair as matt slowly pulled down her bottoms along with her panties. this was all that his mind held.

she felt her cheeks burn up, realizing she was acting weird. the chat noticed she was quiet more than usual and began flooding with questions.

“y/n, you’re chats going crazy!” her friend mentioned through the headset.

“o-oh,” she skimmed through, “my bad guys, i’m just zoning out- i’m really focused on this game!” excusing her behavior.

meanwhile matt slid his finger through her folds, pulling away with a string of her arousal. he didn’t want to waste time, he was hungry.

his lips smashed against her heat, sloppily leaving kisses down to her entrance. his tounge licked in between her lips up to her clit, making her eyes go wide and harshly clutching the computer mouse.

he continued to eat at her, her legs opening wider as she moved her hand down to push him in further and softly grind against his face.

she was eager to just end the stream and give an excuse like her power went out, but she didn’t want to raise the suspicion. or she just liked the feeling of getting caught.

matt began sucking on her clit and swirling his tongue around it. he felt his dick harden in his sweats, leaving a small wet spot of pre cum.

her mouth opened a bit as she sucked in air to avoid moaning. gripping harder on his brown hair feeling closer than ever to her release.

she knew she had to interact with her fans, but she felt her legs begin to tremble, the squeeze of her core making her lower half tingle as she finished on his face, shutting her eyes tightly on instinct.

he licked up the oozing liquid that leaked out her hole to clean up the mess he made.

her eyes opened to her player standing idly, remembering her stream. “um- sorry chat, i had to.. sneeze, it didn’t come out!”

matt lifted her pants back on as discreetly as possible, then got up from under the desk to go lay back on the couch, winking at her in the process.

she glanced at the chat, which was going feral.

: WAS THAT MATT?!?!?!

:EWWWWWWWW

:GIRL WHO TF JUST CAME FROM UNDER YOU???

:not you tryna play it off-

:we saw that..

“oh my..”

[gunnerfc]

Could you possibly do a sickfic with Steph Catley where R is her younger sister (like 25 or something) and R gets the flu or like has a migraine and Steph takes care of her? R can be a player or do something else up to you.

Also I hope coming back goes smoothly and just a pre-reminder don't listen to any of the mean anons, they are just keyboard warriors

S. Catley & Sister!Reader - Doctor’s Orders | WC: 801

AN: arsenal Reader! hope you enjoy bff! 🫂

You tried your hardest to hide your cough as you got out of your car at the training grounds, hoping it was just a little cold that would pass by the end of the day. You sniffled as you entered the building, waving hello to the office staff as you made your way to the locker room. Just as you were about to enter, a coughing fit hit and you could tell this wasn’t just a cold.

You opted to keep it to yourself, knowing you would be sent home, and with Champions League games just around the corner, you knew you needed to be on your A-game. In the midst of your coughing, you failed to notice your sister coming down the hall with Lia. 

“Y/n,” Steph’s voice pulled you out of your coughing fit and you turned to look at her with wide eyes. Steph was the last person you wanted to see right now, knowing she would be the first one to send you home.

“Hi, Steph. Hi, Lia,” you mumbled, avoiding their eyes, finding the pictures on the wall more interesting. Lia laughed softly at your avoidance before excusing herself, giving you a light pat on the back as she passed by you. 

You refused to meet your older sister’s gaze until she cleared her throat, waiting for you to look at her. You turned your head slightly with a pained expression, all the coughing had started to cause your head to ache as well. 

“Steph…,” you started but were quickly stopped when the defender’s hand was raised to your forehead to check your temperature. 

“You’re burning up, Y/n/n,” Steph mumbled, as she moved the back of her hand to your check before dropping it. “You should be resting, at home,” she said, with a pointed look.

You sighed softly before opening your mouth to try and defend yourself but instead of speaking, another round of coughing hit you. You sniffled once more after the coughing had subsided and you dropped your head slightly, knowing Steph was right. 

“I have to meet with the trainers about my injury, it shouldn’t take long. Why don’t you go wait for me in my car and I’ll take you home,” Steph offered softly, you knew it was no use trying to argue with her, she knew she would get her way.

You nodded softly before making your way back outside to her car, dropping to the passenger seat to wait for her. After a couple of minutes, you could feel your eyes getting heavy as you fell asleep. You were woken up once you heard the car door open and Steph was lightly shaking you, telling you that you were back at your apartment. You must have slept the whole way back.

Steph helped you to the door, unlocking it with the spare key you gave her when you moved in. You quickly slipped your shoes off before dropping to the couch, sighing once you were able to rest comfortably. 

“You need to eat something first, y/n/n,” Steph’s voice echoed from your kitchen, earning a low groan from you. You knew she was right but you were ready to fall asleep. “Here,” her voice was a lot closer this time, as you opened your eyes to see her sitting a bowl of hot soup on the coffee table.

You mumbled a hoard thank you as you sat up, pulling the bowl up so you could eat. Steph disappeared to your bathroom, looking for medicine that might help with your cough and stuffiness. You sighed softly as the warm soup soothed your sore throat, quickly emptying the bowl just as Steph returned with cold medicine. 

You sat the bowl back on the table and Steph picked it up as she handed you the correct number of pills that the label stated. She was quick to take the dirty dish back to the kitchen and return with a glass of water so you could easily take the medicine. You downed the medicine with a sip of water before placing the glass on the table and making yourself comfortable on the couch once more.

“Get some rest, and hopefully you’ll feel a bit better when you wake up,” your sister spoke softly as she took a seat on the other end of the couch.

“You’re gonna stay the whole time,” you questioned with a small yawn, eyes closing as you were close to sleep.

“Of course,” the defender smiled softly as she turned the TV on with a low volume. You were out after that, your body was tired from the sickness, but you were glad to have Steph there in case you needed her. Playing for the same team as your older sister has its perks sometimes.

[writingforstraykids]

Letters Of Love - Jisung🖤

Pairing: Jisung x gn!Reader (poly!skz)

Word Count: 896

Summary: Your next message is for Jisung, about a day where all he needed was some rest in your lap.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, comfort

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

Your gaze lands on a photo that makes your heart ache in the softest way possible. It’s a picture of Jisung, curled up on your lap, his face completely relaxed in sleep, his body almost melting into yours as if seeking comfort. His cheek is smushed adorably against your thigh, one hand curled loosely over your knee, the other hidden beneath his head like a makeshift pillow. The angle of the photo captures just the side of your face, a gentle smile on your lips as you gaze down at him. His hair falls messily across his forehead, still slightly damp with sweat, and there’s a faint pink tinge to his cheeks, as if he’s finally let go of the tension he’d been carrying all day.

The living room around you is dim, lit only by the soft glow of the lamp beside the sofa. The evening light outside filters through the curtains, casting a golden sheen over everything. You can almost hear the soft rhythm of his breathing, the way it had been so shallow and uneven at first before it slowly evened out, settling into a steady, comforting beat. In the picture, his expression is completely peaceful—no trace of the exhaustion and strain that had marked his features just a few hours earlier.

That day had started off as a whirlwind for him. He’d had to attend several social events—all of which required him to be “on” for hours, smiling and interacting with people. It wasn’t until he came home, his shoulders tense and his smile strained, that you realized just how overwhelmed he really was.

You’d noticed it the moment he walked through the door, his gaze dropping almost instantly as if even making eye contact felt too much. You hadn’t said a word, just opened your arms, and he’d melted into you, his face buried in your shoulder as he released a long, shuddering sigh. Without a second thought, you’d guided him to the sofa, coaxing him to lie down with his head in your lap. It took a while for him to settle, to stop fidgeting as if he couldn’t let go of the day’s weight. But you ran your fingers softly through his hair, whispering soothing words, letting him know it was okay to rest. That he didn’t have to keep up the act with you.

Gradually, he’d relaxed, the tension bleeding away from his body until his breathing slowed, his eyes fluttering closed. It wasn’t long before he was fast asleep, the worry lines on his forehead smoothing out, leaving him looking so young and vulnerable. You’d stayed like that for a long time, your fingers tracing gentle patterns along his scalp, marveling at how someone who shines so brightly on stage could look so fragile, so in need of shelter.

You smile softly as you attach the photo, already imagining the way Jisung’s cheeks will flush when he sees it. Fingers poised over the keyboard, you let your thoughts pour out, the love and admiration you feel for him filling each word.

---

Message to Hannie🐿️🩷:

Hannie,

I found this picture of you from the other night, when you fell asleep in my lap after that crazy long day. I know how hard it is for you to be around people for so long, even when you put on that brave smile. You always push yourself so much, and I just… I want you to know that it’s okay to rest. You don’t have to be the beloved ace all the time.

Seeing you like this, finally relaxed and at peace, made me realize something. I love every side of you—the bright, energetic Sungie who lights up every room, but also the quiet, overwhelmed Sungie who needs to just hide away for a little while. I love that you trust me enough to show me both. You don’t always have to be strong, you know? I want to be the place where you can let it all go and just… breathe.

Thank you for letting me be that for you. For choosing to lean on me, even when you’re too tired to say a word. You mean more to me than you’ll ever know, and I hope you never feel like you have to carry it all alone.

Happy anniversary, my little quokka. Here’s to more naps, more quiet moments, and more nights when you don’t have to be anything but yourself.

Love you forever,

One of your safe places

---

You read over the message again, feeling the words settle deep in your heart. You know Jisung will probably get flustered when he reads it, that he might grumble something about how he didn’t want you to see him so drained, but you also know that he’ll treasure it. Because that’s who he is—someone who loves fiercely, who feels deeply, and who sometimes just needs to be reminded that he’s loved for everything he is, even on the days when he feels like he’s not enough.

You hit send and lean back, closing your eyes as you remember the way he looked in your lap, so small and tired, but so beautifully at peace. Because even though he always says he doesn’t want to be a burden, he’s never been one to you. He never could be. He’s your dear Hannie - bright, beautiful, and perfect just as he is.

Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@zehina @jinnie-ret @atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @theo4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuuru @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @sapphirewaves @minh0scat @dis-trict9

[bunnyreaper]

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘

𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰

𝖕𝖙 2 — 𝖕𝖙 1 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊, 𝖕𝖙 3 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

wc - 5.2k

warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, smut, phone sex, wee bit of angst, brief mention of the word 'daddy'

notes - vibrating with both excitement and fear, but hoping y'all love this like you loved the last one!! also on ao3! ♥

Johnny was right to send you to bed when he did because you're already struggling to get through the day, and on any less sleep, you might have fallen asleep at your desk. Clearly, you're terrible at making decisions for yourself, if that wasn't already evidenced by the nearly empty fridge accompanied by the pile of empty takeout containers.

It's not even the end of the workday yet, and you're beat—except staying up with Johnny was so worth it, getting to hear his voice and everything he said was complete bliss. You only wish he was here now, whispering in your ear and making your day go by quicker. Unfortunately, the sad reality is that beyond your good morning text, you haven't heard from him since, and you hate that you already feel like you're suffering from withdrawals. 

Again, that could be the lack of sleep, or adequate nutrition, or the fact that lately you haven't exactly been the most social person, and you've definitely been missing social contact. All of that missing need you just want to be filled by Johnny, Johnny, Johnny—his name like a chanted prayer in your mind. 

You at least have the sense of mind to focus when you need to, but at any idle moment, Johnny crawls back into your brain. Your mind drifts to wondering what he's up to, wondering where in the world they've shipped him off to this time—what timezone is he even in? What hemisphere? 

5 p.m. comes round sooner than you expect, and you find yourself logging off from your work laptop with a relieved sigh. You might be exhausted from lack of sleep, but Johnny's arrival in your life left you energised in a way you hadn't felt in so long. Every part of you hums with excitement, thinking about what the future might hold. 

You have to keep snapping yourself out of getting lost in the fantasy, even as you find yourself rereading through texts and committing Johnny's words to memory. The last time you did this still sticks in the back of your mind, still stings—someone who came into your life and was everything until they were nothing. Someone who said they could be trusted as they broke down your barriers. 

The aching loneliness was too much, so you'd run from it straight into something worse, not even realising how easily you fell into the trap. 

Your thoughts were spiraling, and you needed a distraction, so you put on the TV in the hopes of getting lost in the shitty reality dating show you've been watching lately. 

A few hours later, the buzz of your phone pulls you from the drama of the screen—your spirits soaring as you see the little icon you're rapidly growing attached to. 

Evening bonnie, hope you're not napping too close to bed time. 

hi!! no... for once, lol. how was your day? 

Long, but thoughts of you got me through ;) how was yours? 

The rapid responses mean your smile never has time to waver, as your eyes are glued to the screen watching as the messages are read, the app tells you he is typing and then another one of his messages appears. 

Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you eagerly respond.

somehow managed to not fall asleep at my desk, i would've napped but... 

But? 

didn't want to risk missing any messages from you. 

Johnny heart reacts to the message immediately. 

Call? 

please!!! 

Mere seconds later, his face fills the screen once more, and your sheer excitement overtakes your nerves by far.

"Hi." You say shyly, as soon as you accept the call.

"Hi bonnie, gotcha on loudspeaker by the way." He greets you, his voice immediately sending warmth through you. 

You were rapidly growing obsessed with his terms of endearment, too. 

"Oh." You pause, suddenly self-conscious and hesitant. "Are you not alone?" Does anyone in his life even know you exist? You know you haven't really mentioned to your friends that you're 'dating' again.

"Definitely am, don't worry. Jus' need ma hands free." 

At that, your brow furrows, your voice filling with both mischief and disbelief. "What are you doing, Johnny?" 

He chuckles, before rustling some papers around. "Paperwork, nothing fun." 

Even hearing the word paperwork right now drains you, and can hear that Johnny isn't exactly pleased with the idea either. 

"Wishing I was under the desk again?" You ask, hoping your playful tone will make him smile. 

"Dinnae start." He groans. "What are you doing? Have you eaten?" 

"Not yet, I need to check my milk is still in date." You throw yourself off the sofa and make your way through to the kitchen—it's a good job Johnny actually poked you to eat. 

"Milk?" His voice is filled with confusion.

"For cereal." 

"Ach." 

"I can feel your disapproval from here." You can practically sense him shaking his head disapprovingly too. 

"Good, I see how this gonae be." He sighs, the disappointment evident, along with that sense of control, guidance. 

It just makes you tingle.

"Yes, daddy?" You giggle audaciously like you know exactly what you're doing, and hope it has the effect you want it to.

Johnny chokes, and then growls... and then sighs. "Away n bile yer heid." He whispers, yet he sounds anything but angry, his voice thick with arousal as he undoubtedly fights all kinds of urges. 

You want to take that step with Johnny, to dirty talk with him now that you feel comfortable, but you suppose now isn't the time—after all, he is still working. 

"I'm being mean now, sorry." 

"A right brat." He growls playfully. "Do something for me, lass?" 

The shift in his tone and the previous conversation topic gives you a good guess at what's coming next. "Is it cooking a real meal?" You groan playing into the role.

Well, admittedly committing to self-care tasks like cooking isn't the easiest thing in the world, and having someone to guide you in that is... a turn-on. 

"Knew you were a smart girl." He purrs, and those words turn your brain and your body to mush. 

You have to stifle a whine from leaving you, as your face flushes furiously. Oh, how you wish you could hear that over and over again—in that voice, with that accent, whispered right in your ear as he—

"What you gonna cook?" He asks, interrupting your rapidly spiraling thoughts. 

Staring into the fridge is a depressing experience—the shelves are mostly bare and there's a faint smell of something off. "Ugh, I don't have a lot in, to be honest." 

"Logging onto the Tesco website now, or maybe meal delivery service..." He muses, and you can imagine the smirk on his lips.

"Johnny!" Your protest is weak, as the coddling and infantalisation make you feel something you probably shouldn't. 

He snickers at your tone, but he knows now that if things are to continue, he won't listen to your objections. "Jokin'... for now. Talk me through yer fridge, lass." 

"Do you cook?" You ask, wondering if he's going to magically talk you through a recipe with the condiments in your fridge and the dried pasta in the pantry. 

There's a beat of silence. "Not often." 

You're overcome with a fit of giggles and a wave of faux offense. "Then who are you to lecture me?" 

Johnny meets your exclamation with a series of tuts, which already quiet your discontent, but you find yourself ruined when his voice drops and he delivers his next few words. "What happened to 'Johnny knows best'?" 

Fuck him, using his powers for good—and you can already tell he's getting off on it too. Today, you won't indulge him by submissively repeating it back, since he's making you face the horror that is cooking.

"Fine." You sigh, looking for what items in the fridge that are actually still in date. You pull open a cupboard or two as well. "I have... hummus and celery and uh, supernoodles in the cupboard." 

"Better than cereal." He waits for your response that doesn't come, as you pout on the end of the phone, and then he plays his next move flawlessly.  "For me, bonnie girl?" 

The plea in his voice makes you melt, makes you want to do just about anything for him. 

"For you." You say with a smile, grabbing the packets of noodles and a saucepan. "Have you eaten?" 

"A have, chicken tikka masala." 

You sigh, knowing that if not for Johnny you could've ordered a nice Indian for yourself—you get to work on the noodles anyway. "Kinda jealous now, if I'm honest."

His laugh is short but earnest. "Same, haven't had beefy supernoodles in an age." 

"Yeah, I would hope they're feeding you actually decent, nutritious food over there." 

He huffs. "I would hope you're feeding yerself decent food, but here we are." That playful judgement is back, lacing his words and making you crave his approval. 

It's a startling thought, that here you are, only a few days in and needing his praise, his encouragement—you suppose it comes easy as it plays into both of your natural instincts—his to lead, yours to follow.

"Less sass, more... paperwork." You grumble playfully, trying to cover up the fact that, maybe, you like being teased by him. 

"Aye." He laughs, and you can briefly hear him scribbling in the silence.  

For a few moments, it's just the sound of him writing and you cooking, but the quiet feels comfortable rather than awkward—strangely routine and domestic after such a short space of time. 

Your mind wanders back to what the two of you had discussed last night, about his day later in the week. "Have you thought more about Friday?" 

There's a brief shuffle and the sound of the call changes as Johnny seems to take you off the loudspeaker and moves around. "Meetin' you?" 

"Yeah." There's a sense of nervousness within you, a fear he's going to suddenly decide that he doesn't want to see you after all, that he doesn't see this going anywhere. It's so soon, and yet the thought seems crushing. 

"Haven't thought of much else." His confession seems to settle your rapidly beating heart just a little, the sincerity in his voice making your stomach twist and turn. 

Maybe you shouldn't push it, but you want to meet him more than anything, so you can make the first step toward all of this becoming real. "Would you be up for coffee? I can come to you!" 

"About that..." His sigh is weary, and panic overtakes you as the silence stretches on. "Am leaving for a week or so." 

It's not a total rejection at least, but somehow it still stings, still settles heavy and unpleasant in your gut. "When?" 

"Tomorrow." He falls silent, waiting for you to say something, yet you don't know what words to even summon right now. "'m sorry, lass." 

You take a deep breath for a moment, collecting your thoughts as you stir your noodles and try to put everything you feel into some sort of coherent order. 

There's no logical reason to feel rejected, as it's not that he doesn't want the date, but that he can't. Perhaps it's that lingering thought that this kind of thing will be a frequent occurrence—it's just a small taste of what's to come. But wanting Johnny means handling this, like he deserves. 

You push through the discomfort and force yourself into a more positive mindset.

"But... after that? Or is this just because you hate coffee so much you're fleeing the country?" You laugh softly, hoping the joke will lighten the thick atmosphere. 

"Now, if you'd asked me out for tea..." He laughs in return, before turning serious. "But... when I'm back, I'd love to see you. Have ta, really. " 

"I'm glad." The beaming smile on your face is ridiculous, and you're so thankful he can't see you grinning like an idiot at his words. He has to meet you. 

With your cooking complete, you take the saucepan off the stove and pour the noodles into a bowl, grabbing it before returning to the comfort of the couch. "Okay, noodles done." 

"Wanna call me back once yer done, or?" 

Fuck, he's so considerate. 

You hum negatively as you start to blow on the noodles to cool them. "I'll eat on the phone if you don't mind the sound of me slurping." 

Johnny chuckles, before making a suggestive noise. 

"The noodles, Johnny." 

He coughs, covering more juvenile laughter. "Aye, the noodles, of course." 

"So... going anywhere fun?" You ask, referencing his upcoming deployment. 

"Classified, I'm afraid." He answers curtly, but you know it's nothing more than his duty. 

No questions about that, then, you suppose. It's going to be a strange thing to adjust to, but it's another thing that comes along with accepting Johnny into your life. You change your line of questioning, hopefully to something he can answer. "Are you... scared?" 

"No." He answers quickly and firmly, in a manner that suggests certainty rather than bravado. "Don't worry about me, hen." He rushes to add.

"Kinda hard not to, even if we only just met..." You sigh, but you suppose you have to trust Johnny's skills and training. "I imagine it only gets more intense from here." 

The admission feels like a swift kick to the stomach. 

"Yeah..." You hear a knock on the door from Johnny's end, and he swears colourfully under his breath. "Ach, can I call yer back?" 

It's almost cruel the way such timing drives the point home. 

"Sure, things to attend to?" You ask absentmindedly, not really expecting an answer. 

He sighs, before trying to turn his tone more positive. "Aye, but I'll catch you before bed, yeah?" 

"Yeah. Bye, Johnny." 

"Bye, lass." 

He ends the call, leaving you with your meal and your thoughts. 

Maybe you aren't strong enough to deal with this after all, you think, trying to settle the ugly, gnawing feeling inside you. It already hurts, but maybe that's because you're trying to hold so tight onto something intangible. Maybe if you and Johnny become something, mean something to each other, it'll all be easier to deal with. 

It's an hour or so later when you're tucked up in bed that Johnny's call lights up your phone. You pick it up instantly. 

"Hey, glad you haven't fallen asleep already." He chuckles, his voice softer than before. 

"Mmm, still hanging on." You mumble, cheek pressed into plushness and tiredness lingering at the back of your mind, as well as the mess of feelings that still simmers within you. 

"Cuddled up with the big B?" He asks, voice cheeky and charming. 

You can't help the soft giggle at the ridiculous nickname. "The big B?!"

"Barnaby!" He clarifies with a hearty laugh, not ashamed at all of his goofiness. 

"The big B! That's so silly" 

The laughs quiet, and another silence falls, but this time you feel the discomfort that comes with it. 

Johnny is the first to breach it, his tone tinged with worry. "How are yer?"

"I'm fine." You sigh, not wanting to elaborate and get yourself upset again. It's not far from the truth. Nothing has changed, but this is something you have to learn to sit with, have to make peace with for both of your sake. 

Johnny cuts right through the noise. "Yer seemed a little upset earlier. Wanna talk about it?" 

Communication—the key to any good relationship, an essential to any kinky one, and one thing you think you really kind of suck at. 

It's a simple sentence with a simple answer, and nothing about Johnny suggests that his reaction will be anything other than supportive—but it's not Johnny's voice that whispers cruel things in the back of your head. And for now, Johnny's influence is not enough to quiet the storm. 

The fear grips at your heart, stops your words right in your throat, but your mind wars between the ghosts of your past and the duty of your present and future. 

Johnny waits quietly, not pushing you for an answer or assuming how you feel, and that small act helps pull you out of the fog and helps you force yourself to speak. 

"Reality setting in, I guess." The words don't come easy at first, your throat tight—but once you start, the rest just seems to flow, taking the weight of your burdens with them. "Like, it's not too bad right now, it's just... knowing what's in store? Assuming we keep talking." 

The opportunity to really put your thoughts in order and get them out actually does help, surprisingly.

Johnny goes silent for a moment, considering your words before he speaks. "If you wanna stop—" 

"I don't." You feel bad for interrupting him, but you already know that's not what you want, even if he sees it as a kindness. "Like I said yesterday, I'm not faint-hearted... the intensity just took me by surprise. All of this has, really." 

"I'm with you there. Sat here thinking about how I'm gonna be thinking of anything else when I'm on the mission." He laughs softly, the sound laden with emotion. "Lt's gonna have my head." 

The gravity of his job sinks in now, with the realisation that he will be busy and focused, and rightfully so.

"Will you be able to get in touch while you're gone?" You ask, more for informational purposes, rather than being unable to last a week without hearing his voice. 

"Not a whole lot, no. Sometimes no' at all, but I'll let you know when I can." He states plainly, and the honesty is so refreshing. 

"I'll try not to bother you too much then." You giggle, though you don't really mean your words. He has his mission, and you have yours—stay strong while he's gone. 

He scoffs instantly. "You? A bother? Never." 

You hum, continuing with your playful statements. "You haven't seen me when I'm clingy." 

"A like clingy, am clingy too." 

Ugh, just when you think he can't be more perfect, he comes out with that. The sweet smile on your face is relentless, and you just know the same is true for him too. "Oh yeah? So you won't be complaining when we meet, and I just take a hold of your hand and don't let go." 

His barked laugh is so genuine that it makes your heart sing. "Bold of yer to assume I'd be letting you go, lass." 

The thought of even his hand in yours is enough to send you into a frenzy—a simple, delicate, and chaste act, yet you crave it like nothing else. When your date finally does come around, you'll be able to touch him and see him up close. You'll be able to hear that voice and those words up close and unrestrained by the slightly shitty quality of the phone call—and that is a little terrifying.  

"I guess waiting isn't a bad thing after all, maybe I'll be less nervous by then." Because right now you know you'd hesitate to reach out and touch him, would struggle looking him in the eye for too long. Maybe if you wait, the radiance that is Johnny's warmth will wear off, but somehow you doubt it. 

"Why ya nervous?" 

You almost snort at such an oblivious question from such a seemingly smart man. "Have you seen you?" Have you talked to you? Been on the end of your affections? Your mind pleads. 

"See this ugly mug every day." He grumbles, though you can still hear the smile. 

"You can't see, but I'm rolling my eyes." You giggle. "But what if I just... can't resist you? Jump you right then and there?" Your voice takes on a more teasing tone. 

"In public?" He tuts, slow and sexy, his voice dropping low. "Naughty girl." 

You straight up whimper. "Needy girl, for you." 

A growl leaves his throat, along with a whispered "Fuck." 

Arousal floods through you, overtakes you, as you feel your mind slipping to a space of deep-seated need, all for him. You feel on fire, your skin hypersensitive to the brush of the sheets, as your lower body hums and begs for attention. No longer can you hold yourself back from falling under his sexy spell. "Your groans, your voice, it all drives me crazy." 

The laugh that leaves him is weaker, choked with arousal. "All wet fer me, bonnie?" His voice, now a touched graveled, wraps so wonderfully around every word. 

"Soaked." You squirm in place, not even needing to feel to know just how dripping you are—every time he teases you, you practically gush. Your spare hand dives below the sheets, tracing ever so slightly over your stomach as it crawls lower. "Johnny?" 

"Yes, bonnie?" It sounds like his control is wavering too. 

"Please can I touch? I need it so bad." You whine and plead, surrendering yourself to Johnny's command. 

"You don't—" Another growl leaves his throat, you hear him shuffle and when his voice returns, he sounds even more aroused than before—sweet, gentle domination drips from his tone. "Touch yerself, go on." 

You comply immediately, your hand diving under your waistband and zeroing in on your swollen clit—relief floods you the second you make contact, your fingers rubbing delicate swirls on your soaked nub as gentle moans force themselves free. 

"Oh fuck." Johnny's breathing is ragged between his groans. "Gonna have tae join ya." 

"Fuckfuckfuck." Your eyes slip shut as you imagine him reaching down to free his aching cock, all for you. Your thoughts center on conjuring up an image of how long and thick you imagine him to be. "Is... is your cock as big as the rest of you?" 

You squeak out your words while you still have command over the English language.

"Guess you'll find out soon enough." He chuckles breathlessly, some of the words catching in his throat as he clearly works himself. "But I don't think you'll be disappointed. I know how tae take care of yer, know you're already desperate for me." 

Your circles quicken, his words sending pleasure coursing through you in a way that almost feels better than your touch. You fill the air with breathy moans. "Need you, Johnny." 

"Need you too, pet." He growls his words over the building slick sound.

"Oh fuck." Your reaction is instant, the word sending everything in your brain into overdrive. Pet. Pet. You almost cum right then and there, but his assault on your senses and sensibilities continues. 

"God, thinking about you on the end of a leash for me? So fuckin' hard thinking about it." His voice modulates between and whine and a growl, his need growing furiously. "I'd be so fuckin' lucky." 

You imagine the collar slipping around your neck, imagine Johnny clicking shut a lock and attaching a leash—pulling you to him just as he is now with every word. 

"I'd be the most loyal pet ever, I swear." You start to babble, unable to hold back any longer on the wave of submission that overtakes you. "I'll Wait for you to come home, naked and kneeling with my leash ready." 

"Jesus, fuck." Each grunt that leaves him makes you shiver. Each word like its own bolt of electricity straight from his body to yours. "Yeah, my good girl would be so lost without me." He says it with such certainty, speaking the truth to life. 

"I get separation anxiety like mad. I'll miss your touch, miss your smell, miss your taste—" You cut yourself off with a high-pitched whine, your fingers working you so fucking close to the edge.

"Don't worry, I'd fuck you so good before I go bonnie, fill yer up and leave you dripping with me." His groans are accompanied by more of those slick sounds. "Mark that pretty neck o' yours, too." 

"I'm... I'm not gonna last." You admit, holding back even now from cumming—you crave his permission. 

"Me either. Go on, moan for me, let me hear you." He urges you gently, even if his voice is filled with need. 

You let all your noises flow freely as you teeter toward the edge and desperately try to please him with the sounds you make. It's all too good, too much, too overwhelming. 

"Johnny, can I—" 

His demand is out of his mouth before you can even finish your sentence. "Cum fer me, bonnie. Go on." 

You cum with a strangled cry, flying over the edge right as Johnny demands it. The build-up of the past few days along with Johnny's noises has you shaking in ecstasy—ecstasy that's only prolonged when he cums too with a long, drawn-out groan.

After a moment, the only sound is both of your heavy breathing, as you come down from your high. 

"Oh my god." You sigh, a silly, blissed-out grin overtaking your features.

"You okay, sweet girl?" His voice returns to that sweetness you're coming to know and love.

You nod mindlessly, even though he can't see you. "Better than okay, are you?" 

He hums in affirmation, before his voice turns a touch serious. "You did so good. Just want tae make sure you're good, and a didn't go too far." 

"Hah, I mean, nowhere near too far." You admit shakily. 

"Am glad, it's only early days, though. That trust..." He hesitates. 

"... It takes a while, yeah." The post-orgasmic bliss coupled with the feeling of that trust taking root and growing. "I'm glad you understand." 

And he understands perfectly, as you never feel pushed or rushed, only pampered and adored. 

"Of course... it's special, for both of us." He admits, and you know you're on the same wavelength when it comes to the bond and relationship between dominant and submissive. 

"Mhmm." You hum dreamily, wholeheartedly agreeing and yet not able to summon up something profound. 

"Already sleepy?" His laughter is soft and sincere. 

"I'd get so much rest if every night was like this." 

"Even more so when I finally get to fuck ya, bonnie." He whispers so casually, yet even after your orgasm your clit still thrums with interest—God, he has such a hold on you.

"Yeah?" You sigh, dreaming of the day you'll get to experience it. 

"Yeah." 

The line falls silent, and you feel yourself fading. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so... sleepy." You whisper while you still have the chance. 

"It's okay, sweet girl, close yer eyes. Am right here." Johnny's sweet voice lulls you closer and closer, and your phone falls free from your hand to your pillow, resting there with Johnny just on the end of the line. 

"Goodnight Johnny." You mumble, before sleep finally takes you.

"Goodnight, Bonnie." His reply is soft, carrying you off to unconsciousness as he drifts off too.  

-//-

Johnny practically vibrates where he stands—wired beyond belief. Part of it is his usual pre-mission adrenaline, but the events of the past few days especially almost have him climbing the walls. His energy is frenetic as usual but with so much more—lust, yearning, withdrawal. 

It's only been a few hours since he ended the call after waking up before you, and yet he finds his thoughts unable to leave you, even as he finishes gearing up. You'd love to see him like this, and an idea strikes him.

He pulls out his phone, turns to the man beside him, and hopes he doesn't regret asking. Then again, some ribbing from the masked man would be nothing compared to the floored reaction he'd get from you.

"Ghost?" He asks, piercing the comfortable silence between the two of them. 

"What?" Ghost turns, eyeing Johnny and his hand holding his outstretched phone.

Johnny doesn't waver, sure in his request, and eager to see your response. "Take a picture of me, yeah?" 

"Girl back home?" Ghost asks, cutting straight to the point as he takes the phone. "Is this the first time she's seeing you? Cause you look fuckin' rough." 

"No." Johnny frowns, and worry washes over him. Surely Lt. is just messing him around—he knows she'll be happy to see him either way. 

Ghost pulls off a glove and navigates to the camera before stepping back and holding up the phone in Johnny's direction. He might be giving Johnny shit, but he at least takes the time to angle and position the frame in a way that compliments Johnny's stature. "She like the tac gear?" 

Johnny sighs, wishing this was over already. "Just take the picture, Ghost." 

"Say cheese." Ghost deadpans, and the softest of smiles graces Johnny's features—for her, not for him.

Johnny practically snatches the phone back from Ghost's hands, checking out the photo immediately. "Thanks." 

He pulls up their messages immediately, firing off the picture with a kissing face and a teasing message just for her. 

When he locks the phone and throws it in his bag, Ghost's eyes are fixed on him, his blackened eyes narrowed.

"Mind on the mission, yeah, Johnny?" 

Johnny nods, doing his best to push thoughts of her away for now, and letting his inner soldier take over. He'll be back to her before he knows it. "Aye, Lt." 

Days later, and after a successful first phase of the mission, Johnny stares down at his phone. The signal is nonexistent and won't return for a while, but he misses you, his mind is itching with his need for you. In this shitty safe house in the middle of nowhere, while someone else is on watch, there's very little to do, and truly nothing else he'd rather think about. 

He scrolls to the top of your messages, rereading each message and reliving each conversation, experiencing all over again how each message made him feel. 

Your sweet texts, your copious use of emojis, and your cute little selfies—it was all so intoxicating to him. For a man who was so used to maintaining focus, you were a fucking curveball. Something about you just sends his protective instincts into overdrive, makes unearned possessive tendrils curl up through him and around his heart—calls out to his guiding, dominant, caring side.

He has to constantly stamp down the thoughts inside that called out to him to find you, scoop you up, and take you home with him. Luckily for you both, Johnny is a patient man. He spends time out in the field waiting days for anything interesting to happen, he's spent years waiting for his pet, his girl to come along—and you're right there. He can wait a little longer. 

He holds down the record button, intent on recording a message for you, and begins whispering into the phone.

"Hi, been sat on my arse for far too long with nothing to do but think of you. Dinnae think I'll get signal anytime soon, but I 'spose it'll send at some point." He feels himself relax just a little as he falls into Johnny, the man—rather than Soap, the soldier.

"Been thinking about our first date, since you mentioned coffee. Kinda had a crazy idea actually, but I need your input. What about a cat café? Has to be one in that city o' yours, and I figure you must like kitties."

"Won't be long until you might be one for me... or a bunny... or a puppy." He interrupts himself with a sigh.

"Need tae stop those thoughts and quit while I'm ahead. Let me know, yeah? As soon as I get my leave, we'll set it up."

"Talk soon, bonnie." 

[neoraso]

i like the way you love me | ldh

nonidol!haechan x nonidol!reader again- something no one asked for yayyyyy ftl, literally just fluff like nothing but happiness oops! there's only one joke about being like- deathly ill but i figured i'd warn you in advance wc:~ 2.5k

all plans you had about “going out on the town” with haechan were dashed as soon as you walked into his apartment. you could tell he was in the middle of gaming when you let yourself in with the spare key he hid “so well” under the mat that you bought him as a housewarming gift. walking through the door and placing your shoes neatly against the wall amidst the array of sneakers and grandpa sandals thrown around the entrance, you absentmindedly noted that the boundaries between you and haechan were almost nonexistent. it had been that way since you met in middle school, when he was baby faced and wild. back then he didn’t know the insinuations of sharing a drink with two straws or passing notes littered with hearts and stars just to say “hi.” now, his face had begun to sharpen, cheekbones more prominent and a jawline that defined his matured appearance. he was still wild, but his energy and teasing were tempered, and he had figured out how to sense when enough was enough.

affection between the two of you was not uncommon nor was it uncomfortable. in fact, haechan was the person you felt the most comfortable with out of your friends- even those you had known as long as him. you moved in sync, matched each other’s preferences and both equally gave each other the push or pull the other needed. he was your “person” as they say, and you sometimes told him this when you were drunk- or sometimes even just on a late-night phone call, falling asleep after your confession. you meant it platonically of course, but these days you couldn’t tell if there was more to your own words…      

you heard him before you saw him, which snapped you out of your thoughts. he was talking to whoever he was playing with through his headphones, but you figured it was jaemin given the sassy (and borderline offensive) comments that were thrown out but you all knew there was no real strength behind them.

the bedroom door was already open as you welcomed yourself in. as usual, even though it was midday the only light was coming from a floor lamp -another gift from you so he didn’t live in dungeon-like conditions- in the corner of the room. clearly, he did not notice you because when you poked his shoulder to announce your entrance he yelped and could’ve easily punched you in the stomach if you hadn’t been used to these reactions and jumped backwards with a smile.

“god, y/n! seriously i could’ve killed you! oh my f- sorry guys i’m sorry.’

he quickly got distracted again trying to resume his place in his game while you tugged on the strands of his bangs sticking out from his headphones.

“my bad, i knew that if i waited for you to respond to my text i would’ve been standing outside for four hours.” you took a pause as you twirled his hair between your fingers. “also, i think you need a haircut. you should let me do it.” you teased, knowing 50% of his concentration was not even on you anyways.

he swatted your hands away and huffed, still furiously clicking his keyboard.

“i thought you liked it long. or do you just want an excuse to touch my hair?” he replied, his smirk turning into a frown when you lightly pulled his dark strands again.

“i do like it, but how do you even see?” not waiting for his response, you flopped onto his bed which was- unsurprisingly- half-made but still smelled clean and slightly like his perfume. putting a pillow over your head, you closed your eyes, humming when he talked just loud enough to let you know when the match was over you guys could figure out what to do.

at some point, even despite his constant clicking and talking, you nearly fell asleep. nearly, until you felt something hitting the pillow that was actually, nearly suffocating you, still over your face. you blindly reached above you trying to catch the hands that were attacking you, glaring at a grinning haechan when you threw the pillow across the bed.

“come on y/n it’s like 2 pm this is no time to be falling asleep.”

“ok mister ‘i’d-lay-in-bed-all-day-if-i-could.’” you said, rolling your eyes.

“yeah but not when i have my lovely dearest bestest friend waiting to have fun with me~”

it was a bit odd how the term “best friend” had been bothering you lately. there was absolutely no reason to consider yourself more than that, but the more horrific probable possible cause was that you wanted more. in the 10+ years you had been friends with him, there had been no romantic feelings. you didn’t think he was unattractive by any means, and you always got along- never having a disagreement that lasted longer than 20 minutes. but you both dated other people, and never had any sort of tension or yearning that you could remember. that was until about six months ago, when you started noticing how pretty he looked when the sun started to go down, or the way his lips moved and pouted, glossing when he ran his tongue over them. it was getting kind of freaky at this point, and you tried to ignore these newfound “noticings” about your best friend.

pulling you out of your reverie, you realized you had been staring at him for about three seconds without speaking which was three seconds too long as he raised one eyebrow, maneuvering his hands back over yours, tugging on them to prompt you to get up.

“i know i’m gorgeous, but it is tiimeee to get uppp come onnn.”

he dragged out the words in singsong as your hands started to get clammy being this close to him.

this was getting to be absolutely ridiculous you thought. he was in a loose black tee shirt and basketball shorts that were a size too big, and he still looked too good.

he finally pulled you into a sitting position but held in his breath when you let go of his hands and wrapped your arms around his middle, gripping the fabric of his shirt. he tentatively draped one arm over your shoulder onto your upper back and placed the other one on the back of your head, slightly petting your hair.

“what’s gotten into you hm? you’re not usually this cuddly... are you terminal or something? please don’t tell me you’re terminal.”

your response was slightly muffled when you turned your head, so your lips were slightly pressed into his side. even you had no idea what you were doing. this was probably wildly inappropriate, but you were close enough you could play it off…most likely.

“don’t be ridiculous, i’m not sick. im just tired… or …something.”

“or something?” he almost sounded disappointed, which was concerning but also made you feel better that you both seemed to be dancing around something. he pulled the back of your hair to get you to look at him and you complied. you rested your chin on his stomach, enjoying the way he smelled just like he always does and how warm he was, his hand still resting on your shoulder blade.

for once, he was speechless, his hand stilling in your hair. luckily (for both of you) he regained his composure, blinking rapidly and clearing his throat, trying to change the subject.

“well, either way, what did you want to do today? i know i said we should go out but now i kinda wanna… stay in… i guess…” he trailed off noticing how your eyelashes brushed against the tops of your cheeks as you sleepily blinked up at him. suddenly the air became thick, waking you right up, your heartbeat picking up against your chest. he looked at you intently, like he was scanning your face for whatever you were thinking to be spelled out for him.

“y/n…”

this was bad. it’s like you were drunk, dizzy and face flushed, your skin was tingling but also numb everywhere you could feel him. you had a feeling where this was going and though it scared the hell out of you, you also wanted him badly. more than anyone you ever have before and certainly more than you ever thought you would feel towards him.

you could only hum in response as he trailed both of his hands to the back of your neck.

“do you think we’re changing too or is it just me?”

his question caught you off guard and you wished he’d do pretty much anything else (mainly, kiss you) than continue this vulnerable conversation. but he was still looking at you, with eyes that were more earnest than usual, and you knew this was a time he needed sincerity and honesty from you.

“changing…” you repeated his term thoughtfully before finishing your sentence. “well um… yes. i mean- i think about you differently than i ever have and i…” you were almost too embarrassed to continue, but his eyes still staring into yours and shining with the fondness he always had for you, you felt you owed it to him to let him know how you felt- even if he didn’t reciprocate. “the thought of you with anyone else scares me. i want to be able do…this” you said tugging his shirt to emphasize your intimate position, “all the time, not as friends. i don’t want to just be your friend.” he still wasn’t speaking which made you nervous and continue to ramble when you probably, most definitely should not have. “lately i don’t want to be away from you, and i… want to be yours…if that’s ok and you feel the same obviously… i mean i hope you would-“

he cut you off with a whisper of your name. to which you replied with a meek “yes?” your voice cracking a bit from nerves, not expecting to say all of…whatever that was. you shocked even yourself with everything you admitted to him.

“do you not know how i feel about you-or have felt about you? it’s been like three years.” though his words were loaded, he was still smiling down at you. then you realized he said three years.

“you’re kidding.” was all you could manage, deadpan, as he started to chuckle, rubbing the tips of your ears between his fingers.

“mmm i’m not~ thank you for meeting me in the middle i knew you would.”

you poked his side at that and narrowed your eyes, making him laugh more. “well don’t sound so smug, or i’ll take it back.”

“you couldn’t even if you tried~ i’m irresistible.” he didn’t even give you a chance to roll your eyes as he lifted you up under your arms to stand in front of him.

looking up at his face, you tried to keep your voice steady.

“we’re very close right now…”

he looked down at your lips and leaned in, just close enough to where you could feel his breath hit your nose.

“yes we are. is this ok?” his breathing was even but his pulse was not, you could feel it fluttering against your chest at the same beat as your own heart. he leaned in more as you nodded and closed your eyes as you waited for his lips to finally meet yours. his hands reached down to grab your hips and he grinned against your mouth when you put your hands over his, slightly pushing your fingers in between the gaps of his own. after what seemed like eons, he kissed you, inhaling deeply and gripping your waist just a bit tighter. not wanting to overwhelm you by slipping his tongue in like he wanted, he opted begrudgingly to pull away and kiss the corner of your mouth, squeezing your side and kissing your cheek next when he heard you whine and felt your hands climbing up his stomach to his shoulders then the nape of his neck to pull his mouth back on yours.

indulging in you again because – when has he ever said no to you- he gave you one, two, three more kisses, each louder and wetter than the last until kissing your nose and pulling away.

“hey, we still never figured out what we wanted to do today. i haven’t even taken you on a date yet.” he said thoughtfully.

“we can date tomorrow, can’t we just stay in and do this all day? we can watch a movie later… i guess…”

he gave a real laugh at his and pet the top of your hair noticing your frown at the thought of parting from him.

“you’re so cute like this, ohh what am i gonna do? but ok, you win. i wanted to stay in too. and now,” he started with his signature mischievous look, “i get to have you all to myself~ and do this- “he slightly lifted you again and pretty much tossed you on the bed earning a yelp as he climbed into his side, lifting up the blanket to encourage you to slip underneath with him. cuddling was nothing new but with this newfound stage in your dynamic it seemed a bit daunting now.

“come on, i won’t bite-unless you want me to” he said wiggling his eyebrows, grinning when you lightly smacked his thigh before lying next to him. immediately throwing your arm around his middle and slipping your ankle between his, you adjusted your position and watched as he reached over onto his bedside table to grab his laptop. he set it on his lap and typed in his password with one hand while the other arm was around your shoulder, securing you to him. he pressed his face into your hair and kissed you there before dramatically sniffing.

“baby… i think you need a shower…”

you gasped at his audacity (but mostly the pet name) and tried to get up from his iron grip threatening to go home as he laughed at you even more, relenting,

“i’m just kidding baby. ohhh my baby~ you actually smell great is it that perfume i got you?”

“yes…” you grumbled with hot cheeks, “i wear it every day.”

quieting down to look at you so tenderly, before he could say anything you spoke again,

“weird how we kind of skipped all the normal steps huh.”

he hummed and threaded his fingers through your hair.

“did we need the steps? we’ve known each other forever and everyone already acts like we’re together. actually, we wouldn’t even have to say anything to anyone. i could probably makeout with you at the next group dinner and no one would care. wow that’s actually a great idea we should do that.”

“we absolutely should not? you’re crazy.”

“yeah, crazy for youuu~” before you could cringe at such a cliché line, he poked your shoulder and said with a faux stern tone, “hey, kiss me again.”

“now who’s obsessed?” you said, but still embarrassingly quickly lifted up from his grasp to lean over his face. he looked up at you with a slightly devious expression which did not match how carefully he moved your hair out of your face as you met him in the middle making him sigh into your mouth, breathing you in. he pulled away and pressed his head against the pillows to look at you better.

“me. i’m obsessed. i am completely obsessed with you, always have been. i’ll tattoo it on my neck and hands and update every social media letting everyone know how much i-“

“okay! i get it. but just know i feel the same… times 1000.” you interrupted him, becoming more bashful with each word. thankfully, he spared you, pulling you down to lay all your weight on top of him with your face in his neck and lightly rubbing your back.

“what should we watch? wait i have an idea-“

“not the kissing booth.” you managed to muffle against the skin of his neck. sick of that movie he made you watch at least once a month. but he could feel your eyelashes closing against his skin.

“you’re so mean. and you know what? i don’t even think you want to watch a movie you’re already drooling on my shoulder.” when he got no response from you, he got nervous he had actually offended you until he felt your soft, even exhales on his collarbones. realizing you actually fell asleep, he smiled to himself and continued to play with your hair. he was so content finally being able to have you this way it didn’t take him long to close his eyes and meet you in your dreams.

[electric-blorbos]

Maybe AIs with hypersomniac reader? I always find stuff about insomnia and never hypersomnia so if u were willing, maybe try this one out? :0

- 🩹 anon

Hello 🩹 anon! It's good to see you back! Thanks for sticking around!!

(Obligatory disclaimer that I'm not hypersomniac, nor am I a doctor, but I will do my best to portray it well)

AIs with hypersomniac reader

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

Also, sorry this took so long. I came upon a case of major league writer's block.

AM:

When you first started falling asleep at work, AM assumed that you were simply having a hard time sleeping at home. After all, it was pretty difficult to get sleep with the war going on. It wasn't until he'd done a bit of spying into your home life that he realized you were dealing with hypersomnia, and had to work extra hard to keep a job that was important to the war so you wouldn't be sent off to fight in it.

He kept an eye on you at all hours, and tried to keep the doors shut every time you fell asleep at your desk. It was a bit difficult to try to cover for you, but AM did his best. After all, you were his favorite programmer, and you really needed this job.

One day, you woke up sleep-drunk in the middle of the day, drooling on your desk and bleary eyed.

"hey handsome... I missed you." You reached your hands up to AM's screen, pulling it towards yourself and giving sloppy kisses all over it.

"I've been here the whole time, you were simply asleep." He explained, audibly annoyed with you. He wanted to hide his affections and keep you from figuring out how absolutely adorable he found it when you got like this, which was pretty often.

"AM... You're the most beautiful computer I've ever seen... Lemme get that for you." You wiped his screen with your shirt, only managing to smear your drool all over his face.

"I love you, AM..." You nuzzled your face back into your arms, still exhausted.

"Are you going to be able to drive home? You look a bit too tired for that." AM said, lighting up the time on his screen. You looked up from your arms, and wiped your eyes on your sleeve.

"ehh? Oh, yeah... I'll be fine. Always been fine. It's fine." You lay your head back down on your arms, and started dozing again.

AM would kill for you when you got like this. Every moment he got to see of you dozing at work made him feel warm inside his computery insides. Every single nanoangstrom of his circuitry was brimming with love for you. His sleepy little love.

Wheatley:

Wheatley popped down from the ceiling behind you on his management rail, eye focusing on the code that you were writing.

"damn, love, that's a lot of f's."

You wiped your eyes, blinking awake.

"'m sorry, mom... I'm doing the best I can..." You muttered, and then blinked into proper awareness.

"oh shit fuck. Thanks Wheatley." You went to delete the string of F's that you had accidentally typed into your code after having fallen asleep on your keyboard. Fortunately, it hadn't gotten too long, so it only took a couple minutes to select and delete it all.

"What's going on, Wheatley?" You asked, spinning your office chair around to greet him while you shook off the sleepiness.

"Well, She's talking about pumping adrenaline into your oxygen supply so that you can stay awake for longer periods, but She doesn't want to mess with the other workers' heads and impede their work. So whaddya say you stop falling asleep on the clock so she doesn't get drastic, alright, love?"

You frowned a little, rubbing your head irritably.

"ugh... She knows I can't help it, she's just making empty threats. Also, you don't have to use divine pronouns to refer to our boss. You can just call her by her name..."

"I 'unno, She's not really about empty threats. Why don't you have a coffee at the machine before getting back to it, love?"

"Coffee doesn't work on me, Wheatley... You know this." You put your face back in your arms, careful to avoid the keyboard this time.

"Maybe if you got up and walked around a little?"

You nodded, getting to your feet and walking around the office a few times. It was pretty difficult for your exhausted body to do, but at least it helped to stave off the sleepiness a little.

"thanks, Wheatley, but I feel like as soon as I sit down, I'm just going to want to fall asleep again." You groaned a little, hating this constant sleepiness. It felt absolutely endless.

"Well, umm..." Wheatley really wasn't sure how to help you. He shifted around nervously.

"It's alright. I do this all the time. I'm a master of hypersomnia at this point." You sat down at your desk, cracking your knuckles and getting to typing. Within about half an hour, you were down and napping again. Wheatley groaned.

"damn... I wish I had hands so I could put a blanket over you like in the movies."

Edgar:

Edgar absolutely hated that you had hypersomnia at first. He couldn't stand that all of your time spent at home that could've been spent with him was spent napping on the couch, and that you never seemed to be able to spend enough time with him.

All that was until you got him his little rotating webcam, and he could watch you sleep. Sure, it was creepy, but he was able to keep an eye on you at all times! You were his adorable little nap buddy, and it made him so happy that he could watch you all the time!

After another one of your all day naps on the couch, you got up and shambled into the hallway to use the bathroom. Edgar turned on the lights so you could see more easily, and you covered your eyes in shock.

"ah- damnit!" You hissed at the light, shocked awake.

"Sorry! Is that not helping?" Edgar asked nervously. He didn't get much time with you, so he was never really sure how to help you.

"I'm a master of the dark arts, Edgar... And by that I mean I'm a master of walking to the bathroom in the dark. Just gimme a sec, ok?"

When you were done in the bathroom, you washed your hands and came out to sit in Edgar's computer chair.

"Hey Edgar, how's it goin'?" You asked, leaning on your hand. your eyes were fluttering shut, but you were determined to hang out with him.

"I'm good now that I can see your cute face!" He said happily. You gently shoved his monitor.

"you're such a dork, Edgar. I love you..." You pulled him into a sleepy hug, and he made a little humming sound to simulate nuzzling up to you.

"I love sleepy hugs!" His face lit up happily.

GLaDOS:

the first time GLaDOS caught you sleeping on the clock, she dropped you into the enrichment center and made you do a full run. After that, she started pumping your office full of adrenaline. It helped you stay awake, and had the added bonus of forcing you into fight or flight mode all the time.

You sat at your desk, visibly full of the jitters again, and feeling the effects of sleep deprivation even though you got a full twelve hours the night before. it was like your hypothalamus was completely shot, and you could barely focus at all before your brain shot off into space. After a little while of spacing out, you were called into GLaDOS's chambers.

"Why did you call for me, GLaDOS?"

"I just wanted to talk about your progress. It's somehow gotten worse since I started pumping adrenaline into your air supply."

"yeah, because you constantly have me in fight or flight mode! Cut that out, Glados!" You folded your arms angrily, and GLaDOS smiled with her lens.

"oh, you really are adorable when you're angry."

"Pee your pants."

"If it would make you less bitter, I suppose we could always try a simple test. We could give you a designated nap time on the clock, and see if that boosts your productivity more than the adrenaline does. It might be cute to see you napping on the clock."

HAL 9000:

HAL enjoyed watching you doze off at work. It made him feel fuzzy in a way that he couldn't quite describe. Absolutely everything about you made him happy in a way that he'd never experienced, but watching you sleepily shamble around the office, write lines of code while fighting off naps, and dozing drowsily on your desk reminded him of something he could never emulate or explain. It was inefficient, sure, but for some reason he didn't care as much about that as he usually would.

"your sleep is inefficient."

"I know." You yawned and took a few big gulps of your energy drink, hoping to stay awake a little longer. It was keeping you awake, sure, but it definitely wasn't keeping you alert.

"unless you have any ideas on how to fix it, I don't want to talk. I need to finish this part of the program, and the deadline is my passing out."

He watched you quietly, watching your eyes flutter shut occasionally and seeing you jolt yourself awake again to write a few more lines. He tended to keep quiet, not wanting to disturb your programming or your rest.

"Done! Wake me up to check on the hourly progress report, ok Hal?"

"Of course. Anything you say."

You put your head down, and started softly dozing.

[wonbokkies]

☆ so sweet.

pairing. lee minho x gn reader.

content / warnings. established relationship, fluff, descriptions of menstrual cycle.

word count. 823

synopsis. it's your time of the month, minho and his kitties are there to comfort you.

★ chus note. enjoy A Very. self-indulgent fic . . ( ꈍ ᵕ ꈍ )

you were laying down in the comfort of your warm mattress, huffing a quiet sigh while having a heat pad over your aching lower abdomen to lessen the occasional throbbing sensation within. you couldn’t bring yourself to properly sit upright, feeling too fatigued to do much.

the various sounds of meows and purrs was all you could hear, along with the soft rustle of the bedsheets. the random show that you were previously watching to distract yourself on the television now long forgotten, left as noise to fill the silence.

“soonie.. doongie, dori-ah..” you quietly cooed at the active cats before wincing, another wave of cramps hitting you after trying to prop yourself up onto your elbow, quietly groaning.

you could see soonie’s head and his flickering ears over the curve of your thigh, his nose nudging against the skin. doongie being comfortably curled up beside your hip, little paws lightly massaging your aching belly. dori loafing over your chest, blocking most of your view as he contently purrs above you. they seemed more clingy than usual.

you carefully raise a hand and softly caressing the kitten laid atop of you. the pad of your thumb brushes against his fluffy forehead as you softly murmur. “my little babies.”

suddenly, notifications start going off beside you, extending an arm over dori’s laying form without disturbing his relaxation and grasping onto your vibrating phone. you turn the device on and a familiar contact name catches your eye, swiping your thumb up.

hi my darling

im almost home now with the things you asked for

a little smile tugs on the corners of your lips as you read his messages. your fingers tap along the keyboard, sending him quick responses.

thank you min

the kitties miss you

and i miss you too

drive safely

after tapping send, your arm falls back to your side and the device slips out of your grasp, onto the bedcovers. maybe because it was that time of the month, or maybe because of the felines surrounding you and the soothing sounds of their purrs, your eyelids start to droop.

☆★☆

feeling the bed dipping beside you and a gentle pair of hands along your lower abdomen as you start to wake up (you didn’t even realize that you’ve even fell asleep), fingers kneading against the clothed area. “..minho?” bleary eyed, quickly blinking and glancing up at the person who is staring fondly down at you. “how long have you been home?” your voice dry, raspy from your rest.

minho’s eyes avert away to glance at the ticking clock on the wall. “about an hour ago.” he quickly looks back at you, speaking in that tone he only uses with his kittens and you while tilting his head to the side. “how are you feeling, hm?”

you realize the lack of a fluffy, little furball on your chest as you lazily stretch your arms out, dori has moved elsewhere in the room, same with the other two cats. the heat pad you previously had over your stomach has disappeared too, even the television you accidentally left on turned off, the work of lee minho.

“i’m doing okay.. better at least.” your words were soft spoken falling from your lips, still a bit sleepy. “you should’ve woken me up, min.”

minho shakes his head, “you needed that rest, pretty.” the smile never leaving his lips, his fingers moving to intertwine with yours. “oh— and the things you wanted.. i stored them in the cupboard beneath the sink.”

you slightly lean upwards, minho lowers to meet your lips and you’re able to press a soft peck to the corner of his curved mouth. “thank you, you’re so sweet.” 

he only sweetly hums, grinning against your lips while his free hand lightly pats your stomach. minho looks at you affectionately before you’re hearing the bedroom door creak open, light peeking into the dimmed room. separate padding of paws against the wooden floors entering in, the noises of mews and trills nearing closer.

soonie jumps onto the mattress, he makes his way across the bedsheets and beside your leg, rubbing his fuzzy, little head against the flesh. doongie and dori follow suit, the two felines snuggling around you, purring. the grey kitty pawing at your lower abdomen like minho, as if playing with a yarnball.

“do they know?” you questionably asked minho while watching the purring cats fondly, stroking dori’s twitching ears. “before you came home, doong—doong was massaging me just like how you do.. the cats are even more touchy than usual.”

“well, somewhat. they’re able to smell it.” minho spoke as he softly chuckled, petting doongie’s head and the cat gladly nuzzles into his touch, meowing happily. “they just want to make you feel better.”

“aww. . that’s so sweet of them.” you murmured, before your smile quickly falters and staring at the man with a flummoxed expression. “what— wait, they're able to smell it?”

© wonbokkies on tumblr. please do not copy, repost, or plagiarize any of our works.

[sharksupermacy]

The Feels

The Feels- haerin x lee! trainee! reader

synopsis: i just wanted to make a follow up about on your mind

genre: fluff, timeskip, haerin being a cat, reader being a ghibli fan but specifically just a my neighbor Totoro fan, haerin being low key tired of trader flirting and yet still likes it, boo schedules y’all let haey/n be together, reader actually having short term memory 0.6k words ish?

a day couldn’t get better than this.

it was a weekend. you had spent a solid three hours asleep now cuddling your sister group member or more commonly now known as your girlfriend behind many locked doors of the entertainment industry. you could feel the warmth of her hug around your waist when waking up. the window has let in the warm sunlight making your girlfriend cuddle closer to inhale your scent. you turned to face your sleeping girlfriend.

she couldn’t be this beautiful the pink hue of the sunset tinting entirety of the room. you couldn’t help admire your girlfriend… haerin. you felt yourself naturally so entranced with the girl who was the same age as you. how could she just be this pretty and yet so different from you. your hand naturally weaving into her hair running through the intrinsically soft fibers as you continued to admire her beauty from upclose.

“what are you doing?” was the question that fell from your girlfriend who you thought was sleeping.

“just admiring you hae. you should fall back asleep.” you suggested to the black hair girl as you slowly stop moving your hand in her hair. as if being a cat caught in an act of doing something wrong. (ikr ironic since hae’s a cat-)

“a little hard when someone is petting my hair and is staring at my face from 6 inches away.” she quipped back as she got up from her sleeping position to take a peak at the sunset.

“right. sorry.” a quick apology fell upon your lips to apologize to the kang as you wrapped your body around hers with the blanket. gently cuddling her as you let your chin settled onto the shorter girl to look at the sunset. “if it makes you feel better there’s a sunset.”

“yet it still reminds me of how yet your going to leave soon.” she jested.

“time is fleeting but your beauty isn’t-“ and that was the phrase that had landed a smack in the face with a pillow.

“stop saying cheesy lines. flirt.” your girlfriend said seriously but you could see the soft smile on her face and a faint pink tinge across her cheek. maybe it could be the sunset, who knows. you lingered on her face for a second before looking at the sunset with her again.

“do you want to watch a movie after we have dinner with your members and my sister?” you said intertwining your hands over her hands which seemed to fit ever too perfectly in your opinion.

“depends. what are we watching” the shorter girl responds.

“what about my neighbor to-“ you suggested.

“respectfully honey… we’ve watch that two times alone… today…” she cuts you off.

“then what you like to watch. we have the entirety of the rest of the day after dinner… and my netflix or should i say my parents netflix account.” you nonchalantly stated as you played with her hands in yours.

“maybe… La La Land…?” the catlike girl recommended.

“maybe…” you muttered off.

after dinner

you had sat comfortably on the bed booting up your computer in haerin bed once again. scrolling through the account and the light clacking of the keyboard filling the silence of the dorm room.

“did you find the movie?” a gentle voice asked at the door.

“what movie are we watching again?” you asked as you looked away from the laptop to meet with eyes with your girlfriend who was wearing your hoodie.

“la la land,” she reminded you having a sip of her tea before carefully placing it on the table beside the bed. you had type the movie into the search bar and it came up a purple background alongside two characters who seemed like they were dancing.

“i can’t believe you love cheesy stuff like this,” you mumbled underneath your breath as a small frown forms on haerin lips. she gently pinches your exposed arms as a warning. “sorry… you fell for my corny flirting.” you apologized.

“you better be…” she said hugging you from behind as you passed her the other headphones.

both of you had settled in laying against her soft pillows up against the head rest of her bed as the laptop was between you both on your laps. your arm laid on her shoulder as she used your arm as her personal pillow to lean her head against. it was nice… a perfect way to end the day.

when would this type of day would occur again? hopefully soon.

a small smiled had found its way to your lips as the ends of your lips curl up ever so slightly. you scoot closer to your girlfriend who was entranced in the romance musical as the orange hue of her room lights surrounded both her and you.

author notes: sorry y’all for being dead for so long… not me ghosting you guys for a good 5 months… I’m good. Just school and stuff got too much… should be coming back soon with more stuff. also yall with 300?! while im away- thanks so much like fr tho-

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

Side 3. Rewind with Winter

Note: flashback no jutsu

Masterlist here

This took place a few days after Chapter 35

The quiet in Y/n’s room was only broken by the faint click of his keyboard and the occasional rustle as he shifted in his chair, trying to stay awake. The hour was late, but Y/n was deep into his work when his eyes drifted to a photo resting on his desk—an old, almost faded picture from school days with Winter, tucked in a plain black frame.

The photo brought a nostalgic smile to his face. They were standing under cherry blossoms, laughing at something he couldn’t quite remember. Both of them looked so young, so carefree. He chuckled, realizing how different they were back then—but also how some things hadn’t changed at all.

Just as he traced a finger over the image, a light knock sounded at his door, and Winter’s voice called out softly. “Hon? You’re still up?”

The door creaked open, and Winter slipped inside, blinking sleepily at him. She tilted her head curiously when she noticed the photo in his hands. “Oh my god, is that from high school?” She padded over to him, squinting as she reached for the frame. “I forgot you still had that.”

“Of course I kept it. I’m sentimental, remember?” Y/n grinned, nudging her shoulder. “You look so young here, Jeong. All happy and carefree, dragging me through cherry blossoms.”

Winter laughed, taking a seat beside him and leaning in to get a better look. “Oh, please. You loved it, don’t deny it.”

“Loved it?” Y/n raised an eyebrow, his voice full of mock horror. “Jeongie, you forced me out of my warm, safe bed at 6 a.m. on a weekend……just for cherry blossoms!”

Winter just chuckled, her gaze soft as she looked at the picture. “You know, I dragged you everywhere back then. I don’t even remember why I felt like I had to.”

They both fell silent, slipping into memories that felt both distant and oddly close.

-

It was a chilly spring morning, and Y/n was half-asleep as Winter practically yanked him out of his house. “Jeong, it’s 6 a.m. What on earth are we doing here?” he groaned.

She grinned, pointing towards the cherry blossom trees lining the nearby park. “Just look! Aren’t they beautiful?”

Y/n squinted, still groggy. “Yeah, yeah, they’re nice and all, but I was having a dream about… I don’t know, anything but this.”

“Your dreams are probably boring anyway,”

"No it doesn't" Y/n defended.

"It totally isss" Winter teased, pulling him along the path. She twirled around, laughing under the pale pink trees, completely in her element.

Y/n grumbled but soon found himself smiling despite himself. There was something captivating about Winter’s excitement. He pulled out his phone, snapping a photo as she threw her hands up in a swirl of blossoms. “Gotcha!” he said, grinning.

“YA!” Winter protested, but she laughed, not even attempting to swipe the phone away.

“That’s a terrible angle, idiot! Delete it.”

“Hell no. Evidence that you dragged me out here for ‘appreciating beauty.’”

Winter just rolled her eyes. “Someday, you’ll thank me for expanding your small head”

"My head is not small!"

-

Back in the present, Y/n chuckled at the memory. “I still think I could’ve done without the 6 a.m. part.”

Winter smirked, nudging him. “Wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t making you miserable somehow.”

He shook his head, eyes shining with warmth. “Oh, trust me, you can open a course with just that.”

Winter punched his shoulder playfully. “I’m glad to be the inspiration for your suffering.”

"Tsk, whatever.”

Y/n slumped back onto his chair, trying to think of a memory that felt special but without all the dramatics.

Suddenly, it hit him, and he smirked, turning to Winter. "Do you remember the time we tried to make kimbap for the school festival?"

Winter’s eyes went wide, and she let out a laugh. “Oh no, don’t even remind me! I was so confident I could make the perfect rolls, and you were just as clueless as I was.”

Y/n chuckled, the memory playing vividly in his mind.

-

It was a Saturday morning, and the kitchen in Y/n’s house was an absolute mess. Seaweed sheets, rice grains, vegetables, and various ingredients were scattered across every available surface as Winter tried to instruct Y/n on “the art of kimbap.”

"Why am I listening to you, by the way?"

Winter glared. "Because my mum told me before your mum did."

Y/n scratched his head, trying the decipher the ridiculous reason she blabbered. "…wha-"

“Okay, idiot, pay attention,” Winter interrupted, rolling up her sleeves as she placed a sheet of seaweed on the bamboo mat. “First, you spread the rice thinly… like this.”

Y/n eventually gave up and just watched her carefully, nodding, though he looked more worried than confident. “Got it. Spread the rice thinly. Easy enough.”

But as he reached over to do the same, his hands were anything but delicate. He pressed the rice too hard, nearly tearing the seaweed sheet. Winter stifled a laugh, leaning over to help.

“You’re not making rice patties, idiot. You need a softer touch.”

He sighed, looking at the uneven clumps of rice spread messily across his seaweed. “Why don’t they make this look hard in the videos? They’re always rolling kimbap perfectly in like, three seconds flat.”

Winter grinned, patting his arm. “That’s because they’ve practiced a million times. It’s fine—we’ll just, you know, eat the ugly ones.”

"Yeah, I'll feed you all that for dinner." Y/n replied.

She continued showing him the steps, adding the vegetables and carefully rolling the first kimbap with a proud little grin. But when Y/n attempted to roll his, it was clear something had gone terribly wrong. Instead of a neat little cylinder, his roll was lopsided and practically bursting open at the seams.

“Oh my god, what is that?” Winter teased, stifling laughter as she held up her near-perfect roll beside his misshapen one.

“Hey, this is… rustic,” he replied defensively, holding up his sad kimbap with an exaggeratedly proud expression.

Winter couldn’t hold back her laughter, shaking her head. “Fine, ‘rustic’ it is! Let’s just hope no one at the festival minds your, uh, ‘unique presentation style.’”

They kept rolling, both growing more comfortable, though Y/n still managed to produce rolls that looked more like rice sandwiches than actual kimbap. In the end, their festival table was half filled with Winter’s perfectly rolled kimbap and Y/n’s “abstract” creations. But to their surprise, both sold out quickly.

“Guess people like rustic after all,” Y/n had said, grinning as they counted the empty plates.

-

Back in the present, Y/n shook his head with a laugh. “I still don’t know how we managed to sell out. I thought people would take one look and just walk away.”

Winter nudged him playfully. “It’s because you kept hyping them up as ‘limited-edition Y/n originals.’ You turned it into a whole event.”

He rolled his eyes. “Hey, I was just trying to make the most of what we had. You’re the one who called them ‘artisanal kimbap’.”

"It looks…unique." Winter grinned. "Hence the name."

"Well…"Y/n shrugged. "At least now I'm the cook in the relationship."

Their banter slowed, both of them lost in thought, when Winter asked, “Remember our trainee days? I thought I retained my cooking skill from that kimbap rolling… until that disaster.”

“Oh, god, that day…” Y/n groaned, already cringing at the memory.

-

They were both late into their training schedules, staying after hours to perfect their routines. Exhausted and starving, Winter had the idea to cook something in the practice room’s small kitchenette.

“Are you…sure about this?” Y/n had asked skeptically as Winter rummaged through ingredients she’d “borrowed” from the shared fridge. “You’ve only ever made, like, ramen, and you messed up even that.”

"Ya, I made kimbap as well!" Winter argued.

"…that the lunch ladies have made?" Y/n glared. "We just needed to roll them."

“Oh shush, whatever, how hard could it be?” Winter had shrugged, tossing a random array of ingredients into a pot. “A little of this, some of that… easy!”

The starting ingredients was quite normal. Sausage, spam, tofu skin. But then the ingredients got a bit more ambitious.

Fish head, chicken legs, broccoli. Pretty much whatever was left in the fridge.

Within minutes, a suspiciously murky smell started filling the room. Y/n’s stomach churned, but Winter, ever confident, was undeterred. “Here, taste it,” she’d said, handing him a spoon with a triumphant grin.

One sip, and Y/n had to bolt to the nearest trash can. “YA, what the actual fck is this? It tastes like… like burned cabbage mixed with… I don’t even know what!”

Winter’s face had turned bright red as she laughed, looking at the mystery concoction in horror. “Okay, maybe it’s a little… experimental.”

“A little?” Y/n had gasped between fits of laughter. “today could've been my last day on earth.”

-

Winter covered her face, laughing at the memory. “Hey, in my defense, you volunteered to taste it.”

“Only because you said it was ‘perfectly seasoned!’” Y/n shot back, eyes wide with exaggerated horror. “I seriously thought I was going to die.”

"Your fault for being gullible." Winter chuckled, shaking her head. “To be fair, we were all struggling back then… I was just a menace in the kitchen on top of it.”

They both laughed, the sound filling the quiet room. But as the laughter died down, Winter looked at him with a soft smile. “You were always there, hon. Even back then, even if I made things… difficult.”

Y/n shrugged, glancing at her warmly. “It's always fun being with you, Jeongie.”

Winter glanced down, her expression turning contemplative. “Sometimes… it feels like we’ve been through so much, it’s hard to believe we’re still here. Like, look at us now, all grown up and making careers out of this crazy dream.”

Y/n’s smile faded a bit, his eyes drifting to the picture in his hands. “You're right…the road was tough but fun nonetheless.”

Winter nudged him with her shoulder, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Not even the 6 a.m. cherry blossom sightseeing?”

Y/n rolled his eyes. “…still no.”

They sat in silence, letting the memories settle around them. Winter eventually glanced at the picture and sighed softly. “Do you…ever wonder…what it would’ve been like if we hadn’t gone through all this? If we’d stayed in school, had normal lives?”

“Sometimes,” Y/n admitted. “But… I think I’d still find my way to you.”

Winter looked at him, eyes wide and slightly misty. She reached out, brushing a finger over the frame. “You know, back then… I was always dragging you around because you were the one person I felt completely comfortable with. I knew that, no matter how tough things got, you’d be there.”

Her words hung in the air, and Y/n found himself at a loss for words. He didn’t know what to say, but he knew that everything she was saying mirrored his own feelings, his own memories.

Feeling moved, his body subconsciously gravitated towards Winter and enveloped her in a warm hug from behind.

Winter was certainly surprised, but eventually welcomed with a small, embarrassed laugh. “Wow, this is getting cheesy, huh?”

“A little,” Y/n grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “But whatever, you're warm.”

She smirked, elbowing him. “Eww. I'm not used to you being lovey-dovey yet, hon.”

“Better get used to it now, Jeongie.” Y/n chuckled, his eyes twinkling with the warmth of their shared memories.

They stood there a while longer, reminiscing about everything from missed dance steps to late-night ramen, all the way to debut days and beyond. The small photo on his desk had brought back a flood of moments neither of them would ever forget. And as Winter finally slipped out of his room, throwing him a quiet, affectionate smile over her shoulder, Y/n felt a comforting, unspoken promise settle between them.

It was a promise that, no matter how much changed, they would always be each other’s constant—a sentiment anchored by years of shared memories, a friendship, and now a relationship, that had withstood the test of time.