#I had a terrify moment when I walked out exhausted and I was like

[mayomkun]

So tired from work today I forgot who I am for a moment walking out of the office then come home to severence mark scout's work is just work right

[little-jana]

"Meant to Be"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x wife!reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Brief mention of child abandonment, emotional themes, adoption, foster care

Summary: Spencer and his wife never planned on having kids just yet—but when they find an abandoned baby near the FBI headquarters, everything changes.

a/n: request by anon

The day had started out like any other. You and Spencer walked hand in hand through the streets of D.C., enjoying the crisp morning air before he had to head into work. Being married to an FBI agent meant cherishing moments like these—the quiet ones, the normal ones.

But then, as you passed by a quiet alley near the FBI headquarters, a soft, muffled cry stopped you both in your tracks.

Spencer stiffened beside you. His hand instinctively tightened around yours. "Did you hear that?"

You nodded, scanning the dimly lit space between two buildings. At first, there was nothing but dumpsters and scattered debris. But then, just barely visible near the wall, you saw it—a small baby carrier.

Your heart lurched.

“Spencer…” You whispered, already moving toward it.

He was right beside you as you knelt down. Inside the carrier was a tiny baby, no older than a few months. Their chubby cheeks were flushed pink from the cool morning air, and their big brown eyes blinked up at you in confusion.

A note was tucked beside them.

Spencer grabbed it, his hands trembling slightly as he read aloud. I’m sorry. I can’t take care of him.

That was all. No name, no details. Just a heartbreaking confession.

You swallowed hard, instinctively reaching out. The moment your fingers brushed against the baby’s soft blanket, he let out a tiny whimper, his tiny hands grasping at the air. Without thinking, you scooped him up, holding him close to your chest.

Spencer let out a shaky breath. “We need to call the police.”

You nodded, but your eyes were locked on the baby. He felt so small in your arms, so vulnerable. He had no idea he’d been abandoned—he just wanted warmth, comfort. Love.

Spencer made the call while you rocked the baby gently, whispering soothing words. When he looked up at you, something in his gaze softened.

You didn’t realize it at the time, but that was the moment everything changed.

---

A few hours later

The baby—who the doctors estimated to be around three months old—was in good health despite being left outside in the cold. You and Spencer stayed with him at the hospital, waiting for Child Protective Services to arrive.

You hadn’t put him down once.

Spencer watched you the entire time, his mind whirring. He had always imagined you holding a baby one day, but it was supposed to be later—years later. Yet here you were, cradling this tiny boy like you were meant to be his mother.

And Spencer felt something shift inside him.

“Do we know his name?” you asked the nurse, adjusting the blanket around the baby.

She shook her head. “Nothing was left with him. For now, the social worker is calling him ‘Baby Doe.’”

You frowned, looking down at him. “That doesn’t seem right. He deserves a name.”

Spencer hesitated for only a second before saying, “James.”

You blinked up at him in surprise.

“My mom used to read me The Turn of the Screw by Henry James,” he explained. “I always liked the name.”

You smiled. “James. I like it.”

The baby—James—yawned sleepily against your chest, and something inside Spencer clenched.

He wasn’t ready for kids.

But suddenly, he wasn’t so sure he could imagine letting this one go.

---

A few days later

Spencer came home late from work, exhausted and distracted. The case had been tough, but it wasn’t what was weighing on him.

It was James.

You had spent every spare second checking on him, calling social services, asking about his placement. You hadn’t said it out loud, but Spencer could see it in your eyes.

You wanted to keep him.

And the terrifying part?

Spencer wanted that too.

As soon as he stepped inside, he found you curled up on the couch, your phone clutched in your hands. You looked up at him with an unreadable expression.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, immediately alert.

You took a deep breath. “The social worker called. James’ birth mother doesn’t want him back. He’s being placed in the foster system.”

Spencer’s stomach twisted.

Foster care.

James was so small, so vulnerable. He deserved better than being shuffled between homes, never knowing where he belonged.

The words were out before Spencer could stop them.

“What if we take him?”

Your eyes widened. “Spencer…”

“I know we didn’t plan for this. And I know it’s fast, and crazy, and maybe completely irresponsible. But…” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want him to go into the system. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering what happened to him. We could do this. We should do this.”

You stared at him, searching his face. “Are you sure?”

Spencer let out a breathless laugh. “No. But when I see you holding him, when I think about him going to strangers instead of us… I know I can’t just walk away.”

Your lips trembled, and Spencer reached for your hands.

“Let’s foster him,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And if—if things go well, maybe one day we can adopt him.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you nodded. “Okay.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, pulling you into his arms. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but one thing was certain.

James was meant to be theirs.

---

Six months later

James had turned your world upside down.

Sleepless nights, endless bottles, diaper changes—it was nothing like the quiet, controlled life Spencer had envisioned. But he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Because now, his days started with James’ giggles and ended with you rocking him to sleep.

Because every time James reached for Spencer with his chubby little hands, his heart ached in the best way.

Because Spencer had thought he wasn’t ready to be a father.

But he was.

And as he stood in the doorway, watching you hum softly as you cradled James against your chest, Spencer knew he had never been more certain of anything in his life.

He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around you from behind, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“You were right,” he murmured.

You turned your head slightly, smiling. “About what?”

Spencer rested his chin on your shoulder, watching James sleep.

“About us being ready.” He swallowed thickly. “About him being ours.”

You reached up, lacing your fingers with his. “We should make it official, then.”

Spencer’s breath caught. “You mean…?”

“Let’s adopt him.”

A slow, disbelieving smile spread across his face. “Yeah?”

You turned in his arms, resting your forehead against his. “Yeah.”

Spencer kissed you then, slow and deep, pouring everything he felt into it.

James might not have been in their plans.

But he had been in their hearts all along.

And now, he was home.

[solxamber]

"Requests are open-"

The sound of my feet frantically hitting the floor can be heard from a great distance away—

I've been following for a few months & all your posts make me giggle or smile, my coworkers probably think I'm crazy at this point, lmao.

For the request!! I was hoping to see if you could write the Overblot boys' (tho if possible, subbing Trey in for Riddle) reaction to finding out the reader— who is known for being touch-averse— finds him to be a comfort person & noticing that they get really touchy around him as a means for comfort. I had it in mind as being romantic, but pre-feelings realized cuz I live for the yearning & squirmy crush phase stuff, it's so sweet.

All of them are touch-starved, you can't tell me otherwise.

— 🐈‍⬛ ♡

Ahh I'm so glad you like my work omg <3 I'm so glad they made you smile 🫶🫶

I've also kept Riddle and added in Trey, I hope that's fine!

Overblot Gang + Trey Being your Comfort Person

Riddle Rosehearts

When you unexpectedly reach out and grab Riddle’s sleeve during a quiet walk through Heartslabyul’s rose garden, he stiffens like you’ve hit him with a stun spell. His gaze flicks from your hand to your face, his cheeks blooming a crimson that rivals the roses around him.

At first, he assumes it’s accidental, but when your fingers remain firmly gripping his arm as if seeking reassurance, his brain short-circuits.

You’re known for keeping your distance from others, so this gentle touch feels monumental to him. Later, when he learns that you see him as a comfort, his heart aches in a way that’s both exhilarating and terrifying. They trust me like that? he thinks, and suddenly every shared moment feels heavier with meaning.

The next time you casually rest your hand on his shoulder during a meeting, Riddle doesn’t shy away. Instead, he adjusts his posture ever so slightly, allowing your touch to linger. His ears burn as he stumbles over his words, but deep down, he’s elated.

He’s never been someone’s safe haven before, and he’ll do everything in his power to protect that bond, even as his stomach flips at every accidental brush of your hand.

Trey Clover

Trey’s observant nature makes it impossible for him to miss the way you’ve grown more touchy around him. At first, it’s subtle—the occasional tug on his sleeve or a gentle nudge when he’s teasing you—but when you lean against his arm one evening after a long day, his mind comes to a screeching halt.

He keeps his composure, of course, because it’s Trey. But inside? He’s a mess of confusion and delight.

The realization hits him when you unconsciously cling to him during a particularly chaotic Scarabia dinner. Others are bustling around, and you seek him out, your fingers brushing his wrist as if grounding yourself. He hides his smile behind a sip of water, warmth spreading in his chest.

Trey wonders why you feel so at ease with him when you’re so cautious around others. But when you nervously explain one day that he makes you feel safe, his heart swells.

“That’s a lot of trust to put in me,” he teases gently, though he’s secretly over the moon. When you start leaning against his shoulder more often, Trey welcomes it with a soft chuckle, letting his hand brush yours in quiet reassurance.

Leona Kingscholar

The first time you plop yourself beside Leona on one of the lounge’s sprawling couches, sitting far closer than you normally do, he barely raises an eyebrow. But when your shoulder brushes against his, and you don’t immediately move away like everyone else seems to around him, his ear flicks in surprise. Leona’s no stranger to physical contact—mostly unwelcome—but this? This is new.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize you’re touch-averse with everyone else. When you casually rest your head against his arm after a particularly exhausting day, Leona pauses mid-yawn, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looks down at you. He doesn’t say anything at first, just observes the way your usually guarded self seems to relax around him.

“You got a habit of using me as your personal pillow, herbivore?” he finally drawls, smirking lazily to hide the strange warmth blooming in his chest.

When you shrug and mutter something about him being comfortable, Leona pretends to scoff, but the slight twitch of his tail gives him away. He’s never been anyone’s comfort before, and while he doesn’t admit it, the thought fills him with a quiet pride.

From then on, he doesn’t push you away. Instead, he adjusts himself so you can lean against him more comfortably, his tail wrapping loosely around your ankle like it has a mind of its own.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul nearly drops the pen he’s holding the first time you rest your hand lightly on his arm. He freezes in his seat at the Mostro Lounge, blinking rapidly as if trying to process what just happened. You’re careful about personal space—he’s noticed that much—so this sudden display of trust leaves him flustered beyond belief.

“Ah, are you feeling alright?” he stammers, his face quickly turning pink.

You wave off his concern, but the touch lingers. Azul spends the rest of the day overanalyzing the moment. What does it mean? Do they… no, surely not.

It happens again the next time you visit the lounge. You sit closer than usual, your knees brushing his under the table as you casually chat.

Azul tries to focus on the conversation, but his brain is fixated on the way you seem so comfortable around him. When he learns that you find him comforting, Azul’s heart skips a beat.

He tries to play it cool, but the truth is, he’s thrilled. You trust him, and that trust feels far more valuable than any deal he’s ever made. The next time you reach out, Azul doesn’t flinch. Instead, he lets your fingers linger on his sleeve, savoring the quiet warmth of your touch.

Jamil Viper

Jamil is used to people keeping their distance, intentionally or otherwise. His sharp gaze and composed demeanor tend to put others on edge. That’s why, the first time you rest a hand on his shoulder during one of his endless tasks for Scarabia, he’s so stunned that he almost drops the tray he’s carrying.

He glances at you, his eyes searching for an explanation, but you look completely at ease. He doesn’t say anything then, not wanting to scare you off, but his heart races. You—someone who shies away from physical contact—trust him enough to reach out like this?

Later, when you lean against him as he writes up another set of schedules, Jamil tentatively shifts to give you more room. “You alright?” he murmurs, his voice quieter than usual.

You hum in response, your cheek brushing his shoulder as you explain, “You just make me feel at ease.”

Jamil stiffens, his breath catching in his throat. No one has ever said that to him before, not with such sincerity. A faint blush dusts his cheeks as he tries to play it cool, though his mind is whirling. For the first time, he feels like someone sees beyond the role he’s forced to play.

From then on, he doesn’t mind when you’re touchy around him. If anything, he finds himself leaning into your presence, your comfort becoming his safe haven as well.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil is accustomed to people admiring him from afar, hesitant to step too close. That’s why your sudden physical closeness catches him off guard. The first time you link arms with him during a walk, his eyes widen slightly, but he quickly composes himself, tilting his head to glance at you.

“Getting bold, aren’t we?” he teases, his tone light, though his heart skips a beat.

You roll your eyes but don’t let go, and Vil notices the way your shoulders relax beside him. It’s subtle, but the realization dawns on him: you trust him enough to seek comfort in his presence. The thought fills him with a warmth he doesn’t often let himself indulge in.

Later, when you rest your head on his shoulder during a quiet moment in the Pomefiore common room, Vil sets down his script, his gaze softening. “You’ve been awfully touchy lately,” he remarks, his voice tinged with curiosity.

You meet his eyes, your expression open and unguarded. “That’s because you’re comforting,” you say simply, and Vil’s breath catches.

For a moment, he’s silent, his mind racing. He knows he can be demanding and difficult, yet here you are, finding solace in him. Gently, he rests a hand over yours, his grip firm yet tender. “Just don’t expect me to always be this lenient,” he says, though the slight tremor in his voice betrays how deeply your words have affected him.

Idia Shroud

Idia nearly has a heart attack the first time you casually lean against his shoulder during a gaming session. He goes completely still, his hair lighting up like a neon sign as his mind races. What do I do? Do I move? Is this a test? Oh, no, what if I’m sweating?!

When you don’t move away, he risks a glance at you. You’re focused on the screen, completely unbothered, and Idia feels like his circuits are going to fry.

It happens again a few days later when you sit closer than usual, your knee brushing against his. Idia freezes, trying to figure out if you’ve noticed. By the third time, when you casually rest your head on his shoulder, he can’t take it anymore.

“Uh, y-you okay?” he stammers, his voice cracking as he sneaks a glance at you.

You smile softly, your tone light. “Yeah. You’re just… comfortable.”

Idia’s brain short-circuits. Comfortable? Me? His insecurities rear their ugly heads, whispering that you’ve made a mistake, that surely someone else would be better. But when you stay by his side, leaning into him like he’s your anchor, those voices quiet.

He hesitates before awkwardly patting your hand, his touch hesitant but earnest. For the first time, he allows himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you mean it.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is delighted yet utterly confused the first time you rest your hand lightly on his arm during a quiet evening stroll. Physical affection is rare for him—he’s so often regarded with fear or reverence—but you seem unbothered by his stature, your touch grounding and sincere.

The next time, it’s even more unexpected. You loop your arm through his as you walk through the woods near Ramshackle, leaning slightly into him. Malleus’s breath hitches, his heart racing. He doesn’t want to scare you away, so he says nothing, though his tail twitches with restrained excitement.

When you rest your head against his shoulder as he tells you about his day, he finally dares to ask, “Child of man, is there a reason you’ve been so… affectionate as of late?”

You glance up at him, your eyes warm. “You’re comforting,” you say simply, and Malleus feels the ground shift beneath his feet.

For someone who has been lonely for so long, your words are a balm to his soul. He places a hand over yours, his touch gentle yet possessive. “If I bring you comfort, then I consider myself fortunate,” he says softly, though his heart feels like it’s about to burst.

From then on, Malleus treasures every touch you offer, each one a reminder that he is no longer alone.

Masterlist

[fastandcarlos]

Paddock Naps : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: it's a dangerous game when lando falls asleep, but particularly when he finds himself falling asleep on you in the paddock

Your head shook as you glanced down at Lando beside you, his head falling further and further down. When you first let him rest in your lap you knew you were playing a dangerous game but you knew with how busy race days usually were there was no way that Lando was going to be able to rest with you for too long. 

Little did you know though how much you were helping him in his mission to fall asleep. The way your fingers ran through his hair, or tickled against his waist all helped him to feel incredibly comfortable, perhaps a little too comfortable if you were a member of McLaren staff. 

Time ran away with you tucked up in the hospitality lounge, but the sound of a figure coughing beside you soon made you look up, and immediately look back down. 

Oscar’s head shook at the sight of the two of you, something he had gotten pretty used to seeing from you. “How has he managed to fall asleep already? It’s barely even one in the afternoon.” 

“Who’s fallen asleep?” A second voice called out, your expression cringing as Daniel appeared up alongside Oscar.  

You didn’t quite know where to look as Daniel’s eyes widened at Lando fast asleep, having to place his mouth over his hand to hold back his laughter and make sure that he didn’t disturb Lando with his laughter.  

“You look very comfortable,” Oscar teased as your eyes met his, offering you a smile. 

“He’s a pain,” you complained, feeling your legs get number and number the more time that passed. As much as you wanted to be annoyed at Lando for falling asleep on you, seeing him so content made your heart swell, knowing just how exhausted he was with the last of three consecutive races looming.  

They all had their moments when they tried to get some peace and quiet, but you and Lando were unlike any other couple around the paddock. Other drivers could only admire how comfortable you were around each other, how little you cared about what others thought of you or how much you wanted to be around each other.  

It was something that terrified you when you first started dating Lando, but he helped you to not worry about anyone else, training you out of worrying about all of the eyes on you. 

“How long until your meeting?” You asked Oscar as he and Daniel took a seat in front of you to keep you company whilst you waited for Lando to stir.  

“We’ve still got a little while yet, we don’t want to wake sleeping beauty up too early, otherwise we’ll never hear the end of it.” 

Your hand gently brushed over the top of Lando’s head once again, tangling gently through his curls as you tried your best to tidy his hair up for him a little. 

“You know he’ll wake up and still complain he’s tired,” you warned the two of them, “he won’t care about the fact that I won’t be able to feel my legs for the rest of the day.” 

Daniel could only snigger as you spoke, “it’s his fault for having such a big head.” 

You struggled to hold back your laughter, it was something that Lando told you constantly, but only now were you feeling the full weight of it weighing you down in your seat. 

After a few minutes of light conversation between the three of you, a groan could be heard from your lap. All eyes looked down as Lando’s eyes fluttered open, grunting at the two men he saw sat in front of him, before glancing up at you. 

“Nice to see you awake, it’s only the middle of the afternoon,” Oscar teased as he glanced down at his watch. “Nothing like a midday nap to prepare you for a race is there?” 

The moment your eyes met Lando’s you could see how needed his rest was. He smiled softly up at him as he continued to wake himself up, shuffling slightly, much to your relief, as you finally managed to slightly move your legs. 

“You really have no shame, do you?” Daniel couldn’t help but joke too. “Do you know how many people have walked into this room and just found you laid out there?” 

Lando shot a glare in response to Daniel, stretching himself up before sitting up in the chair next to you where his feet had been laying, hearing a giggle come from you as you shook your own body awake too. 

“You’re such a lump,” you smirked as Lando looked at what you were doing, watching as you shook your legs, finally feeling the movement come back into them.  

An apologetic pout formed on Lando’s face as he shuffled closer towards you, resting his hand against your lap as his head came down to rest against your shoulder, still a little bit on the sleepy side of life. 

“Don’t fall asleep again,” you warned, jolting your shoulder to keep Lando awake. 

A frustrated sigh came from him, “why can’t you just let me sleep for the rest of the day?” 

“Because we have this thing called work,” Oscar interjected, shaking his head at how dramatic Lando was. “I think Y/N has better things to do then let you throw yourself across her all day.” 

You couldn’t see Lando, but you could imagine the glare that he was sending at Oscar, with Daniel chuckling next to him to add salt into the wounds for Lando. 

“I hate all of you,” Lando confirmed, “I just want to rest, is that really so hard?” 

You knew exactly what would happen if you let Lando sleep any longer. You’d been on the receiving end of Zak before when Lando had missed important team meetings, he trusted you to keep Lando in check and loved to tease you whenever you failed at that job. 

“Come on sleepyhead, you can rest when we’re back at the hotel tonight,” you smiled, resting your head down on top of Lando’s. “I don’t think your bank account will want to pay the fine for another missed team meeting.” 

A hum of agreement came from Lando as he reluctantly sat himself up, still staring at Daniel and Oscar as they continued to laugh to themselves at the scene they saw unfold before them.  

“You wait, I’ll get you two back for this.” 

“We’re just sat here, we’re not doing anything wrong.” 

Lando looked to you for help, but you chose to stay quiet, knowing that Daniel and Oscar had kept you company for most of the time he slept, you couldn’t betray them by siding with Lando now. 

Before Lando could snap back at them, the two of them excused themselves, Daniel ready to head to his meeting, Oscar keen to impress and make sure that he got to the McLaren office before Lando did and keep everyone on his side.  

“I can’t wait to go home tonight,” Lando whispered across to you, sitting himself up again. “Thank you for letting me rest on you babe, I do feel a lot better after it.” 

Your head nodded as your hands cupped either side of Lando’s face. “I promise as soon as you’re finished we’ll head out of here and get you to bed as soon as possible.” 

Lando smiled appreciatively back across at you, resting his head into your left palm. He desperately wanted to stay with you forever, but he knew that he would never be allowed to do that.  

“Go and be amazing and I’ll be here when you get back,” you encouraged, tapping Lando’s cheek as he reluctantly stood up from his chair. “If you get bored, just think about all of those cuddles we’ll have at the hotel tonight.” 

Lando’s head nodded as he leaned down and pressed an appreciative kiss against the top of your head, brushing his hand through your hair. “Thank you for always being there for me, it means the world to me love.” 

“You’re welcome Lan,” you whispered. 

“See you soon, for the most incredible rest.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[controld3vil]

IF YOU CARE

pairing(s): lensless!invincible x reader

synopsis: In this version, where Mark only ever saw you as a comrade, you were spared the worst. You escaped the fate that awaited you in every other reality.

notes -> dare i say he's my fav variant.... reader has hellfire powers (backstory inspired by raven from teen titans) cw: slight angst, canon typical violence

The Invincible War erupted, and everything shattered. Entire cities fell, crumbling under the weight of unrelenting destruction. Thousands of lives are snuffed out with every passing hour. The world seemed to spin out of control, and every known superhero and villain on Earth rushed to its defense. But why? Why Earth? Why this planet? Day by day, the world weakened, a hollow shell as the Invincible doppelgangers tore through everything in their path, leaving nothing but ruin in their wake.

Not even the GDA could stand in their way, and they couldn’t reach you until hours after cities like Chicago and New York had been obliterated. 

Cecil, the head of the GDA, was the first to contact you as you sat in the quiet of your living room, watching the television blare with the devastating news. Headlines flashed – each more grim than the last. The damage was escalating by the minute, and with every rescue team sent to save the lives of the innocent, more lives were lost. The world felt like it was coming apart at the seams. 

“You seeing this?!” Cecil’s voice crackled through the phone, sharp and frantic, sending an uncomfortable twist through your gut. You’d never heard him like this before – not once, not since… Since everything fell apart. You grabbed the remote, silencing the TV as the sound of chaos from the broadcast still hung in the air. Your eyes shifted to the window, watching the dark sky stretch over the city, a subtle sense of dread creeping up your spine.

“These fucking Invincible variants are everywhere,” Cecil snapped, his irritation thick with something darker, something bordering panic. 

“Where do you need me?” It wasn’t concern that pushed the words from your mouth, nor worry about yourself. It was the promise you had made to the GDA months ago, after Omni-Man’s destruction of Earth. Cecil had worn you down, tried to convince you over and over to join the fight, but you’d always refused. You’d never been interested in joining some cheesy, pretentious superhero team. But now? Now the world was burning. Now, there were no more excuses. No more questions. You didn’t need to ask how you’d deal with it. Cecil will give you the coordinates.

A heavy sigh echoed through the line, exhaustion weighing down on Cecil’s voice. “The Guardian’s headquarters. One variant’s tangled up with them, and I need someone to make sure he doesn’t walk away from this fight.” 

It wasn’t that Cecil didn’t believe in Immortal and the others – they could handle powerful foes, sure. But this wasn’t just any enemy. This was Invincible. The strongest person on Earth, now multiplied. Eighteen versions of him, each with the same terrifying strength. Cecil needed someone who could match that raw power, someone who wasn’t afraid to step in when things were beyond even the Guardian’s reach.

The gravity of it all settled in. You didn’t have to say anything more. 

“You got it.” You didn’t waste a second, immediately dialing your watch to set your coordinates for the Guardian’s headquarters. The familiar ding echoed in your ear, confirming your destination. You paused for a moment, the weight of the situation creeping up on you. 

“How long do you think this will last?” The question slipped from your mouth, though you already knew the answer would be a hollow one. 

“God, I don’t know.” Cecil’s voice was tight, raw with the tension of the situation. “But the numbers don’t lie. We’re looking at a catastrophe, with lives on the line by the second. You need to go – now– before it’s too late. “ 

The finality in his voice made your stomach twist, a cold sense of urgency washing over you. No more hesitation, no more questions. You were already moving. 

In the next breath, the world around you warped and shifted, the familiar comfort of your home replaced by the stark, sterile walls of the Guardian’s headquarters. The air was heavy with tension, filled with the metallic tang of battle and the distant sounds of chaos outside. You’d prepared for this moment, tucked away your emotions, and steeled yourself for the inevitable. But nothing could have prepared you for what you were about to witness. 

As you made your way through the facility, the reality of the destruction that had already been wrought and the carnage still unfolding hit you like a wave. This wasn’t some distant theory anymore. This was real.

As you drew closer to the barricade, the air was thick with the piercing, frantic screams of those caught in the confusion. Hang in there, Immortal. The words resonated in your mind as you steadied yourself, fingers brushing the switch hidden at your waist. Every step brought you closer, but you could feel the weight of what was pressing down on you. You never imagined it would come to this – not in a million years. Never would you have thought you’d be the one forced to end Invincible’s life. He and Cecil had never seen eye to eye – his opposition to the GDA was clear, but you always respected him. Hell, you admired him. He fought for his family, for the ones he loved with a determination that you could claim for yourself.

You didn’t have that kind of bond. Not the way he did. When the GDA took you in, they gave you something to fight for, but not like that. You couldn’t help but wonder how different your life might have been if someone had fought so fiercely for you as he did for them. 

“Man, you guys are great! Has anyone told you that?” The alternate Invincible’s voice was filled with gleeful excitement, completely devoid of remorse for the destruction he was wreaking. It was as if he was savoring every moment of it like he was enjoying playing the lives of others for sport. “I wish I could’ve fought you all in my world!” 

“You monster!” Immortal shouted, his body surging toward the doppelganger, fists flying with explosive force. “You’re nothing but a pale imitation of Invincible!” 

But the variant barely flinched, almost as if Immortal’s rage was beneath him. His eyes glinted with dark amusement, a twisted smile creeping across his face as he weaved through his punches, savoring the power he held over the Guardians. It wasn’t just a battle to him – it was a performance. And he was relishing every brutal second of it. 

It was unnerving how effortlessly this Invincible absorbed the blows. He looked identical to the one you knew – same yellow, black, and blue suit – but the absence of the familiar goggles left the mask slightly askew, offering a glance at his face. That small glimpse, however, was enough to send a chill down your spine. The eyes that stared back weren’t the eyes of a hero. 

“I mean – I don’t need any more motivation to kill you. But sure, insult me.” There was something deeply unsettling in his words and smile, a twisted satisfaction that lingered like poison in the air. He delivers a sucker punch right beneath Immortal, propelling him straight up. 

But he didn’t expect the searing, agonizing heat of fire. Not just any fire – hellfire. It burned through his suit, sharp and relentless, as the flames pricked at his skin. He spun in mid-air, his expression shifting from cocky amusement to genuine surprise as he locked eyes with you. Hovering a few feet above, he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Well look who it is!” His grin stretched wider, and you noticed the blood dripping from his mouth, the unsettling detail sending a jolt of tension through your chest. Instinctive fear gripped you, cold and unrelenting. “Nice to see you, babe!”

You hummed, taking slow, deliberate steps toward him. “Hey, how’s it going?” Your voice was a perfect mask of indifference, deadpan and steady, your gaze unwavering. Every fiber in your body was focused on him, eyes locked onto his every movement. You could feel Immortal somewhere nearby, floating in a daze with a shattered jaw. But for now, you’d play along with his twisted game – wait for the right moment to close the distance.  

Invincible’s eyes raked over your figure, utterly unfazed by the absurdity of the situation. It was a chilling thing – how easily he could make this moment feel like something else entirely. “God, you look good!” he smirked. “Say, why don’t we do a little one-on-one, huh? For old time’s sake?” His feet lowered slowly, hovering just above the ground, but not enough for you to act – yet. “Actually, did the me from this world ever get to–” His voice trailed off, curiosity glinting in his eyes, but you felt his confidence faltering just enough for you to know that the game was far from over. 

“No,” You remarked, your tone casual. “We’re not exactly close.” But there was something in his intense stare that unsettled you – something that told you he wasn’t sharing everything, that there was more beneath the surface. “But I’m guessing in your world, that’s not the case.” 

“Sharp as ever,” he commented, a slight admiration in his voice. You could see his defenses lowering, just for a moment – a crack in his composure. You knew you needed to seize that opening. “God, I’ve missed you.” 

You raised an eyebrow, the faintest trace of surprise crossing your face. “Really?” you asked, voice steady, trying to mask any hint of emotion. Knowing how highly sensitive Invincible’s ears were, you fought to keep your cool, burying whatever reaction threatened to surface. 

But it was difficult. The entire situation was absurd, like some twisted dream, a distorted reality you couldn’t fully understand. Because the truth was, you’d never been close to Invincible – not even in the slightest. If anything, you were only acquaintances, by virtue of Cecil’s influence, a fact that had always kept the distance between you two. And that was probably the biggest barrier to any kind of connection – his life, his choices compared to yours were completely separate paths, never intersecting.

You worked for Cecil, and despite all his moral wrongdoings, you empathized with it. He had often justified his actions with the words, the greater good, in that you knew the cost of it would do. And yet, you stayed. You were bound to him, just as your parents had bound you, long before you could even understand the gravity of the pact. You were the result of a deal made in the shadows, your very existence tied to secrecy that shaped your role in this world – the dark passenger, the one who stalked the dead, the agent of the sacrilegious world. Damien Darkblood would’ve been the first to concur that you were always the outsider, never belonging to either side.

Invincible, on the other hand, had lived a life before all this. He’d had the luxury of freedom – to grow, to experience what it meant to be human before the weight of the world fell onto his shoulder. The weight you, on the other hand, were born into. The fabric of your very existence already sealed your fate long before you could even question it. Your paths were never meant to cross, and yet here you were – confronting a man you barely knew, who now stood before you as an echo of the person he used to be. 

“Yeah, it was a shame we didn’t spend much time together,” Invincible said with a tone that straddled the line between genuine and condescension. “You know before I had to kill you.” 

“Huh.” It was all you could muster, a single syllable to mask the disbelief rolling through your mind. Was this really happening? Was this how it was going to play out?

“But,” he continued, his voice softening, the edges of it pulling in something like sorrow or even remnants of a past he wasn’t sure how to navigate anymore. Finally, his feet touched the ground, and he took a slow, purposeful step toward you. His dark brown eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that was all too much to bear – something in that gaze that reminded you of the inferno you had long buried inside. It was raw, it was fierce, and it was just as dangerous as the man standing before you. “Believe me when I say this… I did care about you.” 

A bitter laugh bubbled up in your throat, but you swallowed it down. You raised a brow, your gaze was firm and unwavering as you studied him. Was this some kind of joke? “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Your voice was laced with venom, each word cutting sharper than the last. You couldn’t even begin to understand what he was trying to do – what he was hoping to achieve with these sorrowful words. His confession, if that’s what you could call it, fell flat, if anything, it only stoked the flames of your frustration. 

You looked at him with wicked disdain, your expression indifferent, though behind it, a storm was brewing. His words weren’t enough to make you falter – not even close. The audacity of him to think that now, of all times, he could manipulate you with some half-hearted attempt at remorse was laughable. It didn’t stir anything in you. It only made you sick, as the man standing before you was a hollow version of what he was supposed to be. 

You had no time for his games. Not now. Not after everything. 

With a quick motion, the air around you began to warp, thick with the heat of something far more ancient and menacing than anything in the room. The flames that burned inside you, that had always burned inside you, began to flare to life. Heat prickled against your skin, and your fists clenched as a surge of power thrummed through your veins. 

Hellfire. 

It erupted from your palms into a burst of molten energy, crackling with an intensity that could melt stone. Invincible’s eyes widened as he barely managed to block the first wave of fire. The flames scorched his skin, blackening his suit, but he did not back down, Instead, he grinned – a wide, maddening smile that only angered your temper further.

“Impressive,” he said, his voice tinged with admiration. But it was also laced with mockery too. “You think that’ll stop me?”

You didn’t respond. 

With a roar, you threw another wave of hellfire at him, more intense this. The green flames surged toward him like a tidal wave, hot enough to sear through everything in its path. He dove sideways, just narrowly escaping the inferno as it roared past him, setting the ground ablaze where he had been standing. 

You summoned more, your body surging with an overwhelming heat and anger. It radiated off you in pulses, making the air itself shimmer. Invincible hesitated for a split second, and that was all you needed.

[tedmustache]

Hi, may I request Jack Abbot x fem!reader with them almost getting caught going at it while at work by different coworkers and no one knows they're together, but the one that does catch them is Whitaker or Robby and Jack is like "I'm helping her find something." Pls and thank you! 🥰😁

a/n: I loved this idea! Hope you like it :)

Adrenaline

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader

Summary: In the nonstop chaos of The Pitt, two ER doctors find something dangerously steady in each other. Between late shifts, locked doors, and close calls, they navigate a secret that’s as thrilling as it is fragile—because in a place where nothing stays quiet for long, hiding how you feel might be the riskiest move of all.

Warnings: innuendos

Requests are open | Main Masterlist

[...]

It started in the quiet in-between moments, those fractured seconds where the world narrowed to the heat of a shared laugh in the break room, the electric brush of fingers over a patient’s chart, the way his thumb would linger on your wrist when passing a syringe.  

You told yourself it was nothing. 

But then came the late shifts, the ones that left your bones aching and your lungs raw with the scent of antiseptic. Nights when the ER’s fluorescent lights flickered like dying stars, and the only thing that didn’t feel heavy was him. 

Jack, with his stupid smirk and the way he could make you forget the blood on your scrubs with a single glance. That was the danger.  

You were ease in chaos. And chaos was all you had.  

No one suspected. Not even Perlah and Princess, who had a sixth sense for gossip.

But then again, you were both professionals.  

The first close call happened in radiology, wedged between filing cabinets and the ghostly glow of old MRIs. You were supposed to be pulling images for a pelvic fracture. Instead, you were pressed against cold metal, Jack’s mouth tracing your jawline, his hands mapping the bare skin beneath your scrub top like he was memorizing it.  

"Someone’s going to walk in," you breathed, half-laughing, half-terrified.  

"Then we’ll be quick," he murmured against your pulse. "Five minutes. Ten, tops."  

You shoved him back, but your fingers curled into his sleeves. "You’re the worst."  

"You love it."  

And you almost said something reckless—something true—when—  

Knock. Knock.  

"Anyone in there? I need Walker scans!"  

Dana

Jack moved like a soldier under fire. Smooth, practiced, already spinning a lie as he straightened your scrub with one hand. He cracked the door, all lazy charm and raised brows. "Just grabbing them. They were misfiled behind expired head CTs. Classic."  

Dana’s eyes narrowed. "Why’s the door locked?"  

"Security protocol."  

"That’s not a thing."  

"It is now, check your email"  

She scoffed but let it go. The moment the footsteps faded, you sagged against the cabinet, heart hammering.  

"Security protocol?" you whispered, biting back a laugh.  

Jack’s grin was pure mischief. "Looked convincing, didn't it?"  

[...]

The end of the charade came a week later, in the hushed glow of the imaging room. The ER had been a warzone all shift. Gunshot wounds, a code blue, a toddler with a bead lodged so far up her nose you’d almost laughed from sheer exhaustion. You and Jack moved in sync, though, a single organism with four hands, finishing each other’s orders without speaking.  

And then, between one breath and the next, he cornered you under the hum of the machines.  

"Missed you today," he murmured into your temple, voice rough with fatigue.  

"You handed me a scalpel an hour ago."  

"Yeah." His lips grazed your cheekbone. "Missed you while doing it."  

This time, you kissed him first—slow, deep, a silent confession in the dark.  

Cue the door swinging open.  

"Jack, do you—oh."  

Robby.  

The three of you froze. Jack shifted instinctively, blocking you with his body (pointless, but sweet). Robby blinked, processing, then slowly backed out.  

"I’m gonna pretend I didn’t see anything."  

Jack cleared his throat. "She was looking for something."  

A beat. Then, from the hallway:  

"Under your scrubs?"  

"Very thorough search," you called back, deadpan, before collapsing into silent laughter against Jack’s chest. He just pressed a kiss to your hair, like getting caught was nothing. Like you were everything.  

[...]

Later, in the ambulance bay, the city exhaled around you—streetlights bleeding into rain-slick pavement, the distant wail of sirens a reminder that the world kept turning. You sipped terrible coffee, shoulders touching.  

"So," you said. "Robby knows."  

Jack shrugged. "Yeah. Probably."  

"You’re okay with that?"  

He turned, eyes dark and sure. "I already have what I want." A thumb brushed your knuckles. "Let them talk. They don’t get to know what this is unless we say so."  

You nudged him. "And if someone else walks in on us?"  

Jack’s smirk was a promise. "Then I’ll say I’m helping you find something."  

"Yeah? What exactly am I looking for?"  

His voice dropped, stripped bare of jokes.  

"Me."  

And this time, in the quiet, no one interrupted. 

[writeriguess]

Do you do fantasy!Katsuki ?

Basically he meets Reader in a forest while she’s gathering herbs on his territory and seeing how she’s tired and hungry he takes her to his dragon village

There she quickly bonds with his dragons, not being scared of them, but fascinated by them and Katsuki is being more and more fascinated by her

So in the evening she reveals to him that she was alone in the forest because she ran away from a forced marriage and he goes all angry and posessive and is like “You’re not going anywhere, you’re mine” and they do the dirty

Thank you 💙💙💙

Dragon’s Claim

The forest was dense, the towering trees stretching high above you, their thick canopy filtering the golden light of the setting sun. You had been walking for hours, your basket nearly full of the herbs you had been searching for, but your body was exhausted, legs aching from the uneven terrain.

You had no choice but to keep going.

Running away from a forced marriage meant that rest wasn’t a luxury you could afford. You had slipped past the guards of your father’s estate two nights ago, moving as fast as your feet could carry you, deeper into lands that most would never dare enter.

The Dragon Wastes.

No kingdom claimed this land—it belonged to them. To the warriors who rode beasts of fire and storm, the ones spoken of in hushed whispers. Monsters, people said. Killers. But you’d take your chances with dragons over a lifetime chained to a man you didn’t love.

And then you felt it.

A shift in the air. A presence.

You turned just in time to see him emerge from the trees—a towering figure draped in black and red, golden eyes burning as they locked onto you. His tunic was fitted to his broad chest, dark leather strapped across his arms, and a massive sword hung at his waist. His wings—scaled and powerful—twitched slightly, flexing as he took a step forward.

A dragon warrior.

Your breath caught in your throat, hands tightening around your basket.

He stared at you like you were a trespasser in his domain.

“Who the fuck are you?” His voice was low, rough—almost a growl.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to stand tall. “I’m just gathering herbs. I didn’t mean to trespass.”

His lips curled into something that was not a smile. “You’re in my territory, little girl.” He tilted his head, gaze dragging over you, taking in the torn edges of your dress, the dirt smudged on your skin. “You look like shit.”

You bristled. “I’ve been traveling.”

“Tch.” His eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade. “Alone?”

You didn’t answer.

He took another step closer, wings rustling behind him. “You’re hungry.”

Your stomach betrayed you with a low growl.

His expression didn’t soften, but something flickered in his gaze. He exhaled sharply through his nose, then jerked his chin. “Come with me.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I said come with me.” His wings flared slightly, his posture impatient. “You’ll die out here on your own, idiot.”

Something told you that refusing wasn’t an option.

So you followed.

You had never seen anything like it.

Nestled deep within the mountains, the village pulsed with life—warriors sharpening weapons, tending to dragons that lounged on the cliffsides, their massive bodies coiled in the sun. The creatures were majestic, their scales gleaming like gemstones, eyes glowing with untamed fire.

You should have been terrified.

But instead, you were in awe.

When a particularly large dragon stretched its neck toward you, its breath warm against your skin, you reached out without hesitation, running your fingers along its snout. The beast let out a low rumble, leaning into your touch.

A sharp scoff came from behind you.

“You’re not afraid?” Katsuki—he had gruffly given you his name earlier—stood with his arms crossed, watching you like you were something he couldn’t quite figure out.

You smiled faintly, still stroking the dragon’s scales. “They’re beautiful.”

He made a low sound in his throat. “Hmph.”

From that moment on, his dragons adored you.

And so did he.

He didn’t say it. Would never say it. But he lingered.

He watched as you laughed, watched as his beasts nudged at you like playful hatchlings, watched as you sat by the fire at night, your eyes soft in the firelight.

And every day, his hunger for you grew.

***

The village was quieter at night. The dragons, once soaring through the sky, now rested in their nests, their deep, rumbling breaths blending with the crackling of distant fires. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and leather, a warmth that settled over the stone houses like a protective cloak.

You sat by the open window of Katsuki’s home, fingers tracing the rim of a wooden cup, staring out at the flickering torches lining the village paths. Despite the exhaustion clinging to your bones, your mind refused to settle.

Behind you, Katsuki leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his sharp red eyes fixed on you. He had barely left your side since bringing you here, always watching—always waiting.

“…Why the hell were you alone out there, anyway?” His voice was rough, gruff like he was forcing himself to ask.

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the cup. “I ran away.”

Katsuki’s gaze sharpened.

You exhaled slowly, your pulse thudding against your ribs. “My village… they tried to force me into marriage. To a man I didn’t want. I had no choice but to leave.”

Silence.

Then—

CRACK.

You jumped as Katsuki’s palm slammed onto the table beside you, splintering the wood beneath his grip. His jaw clenched, muscles flexing under his tunic, eyes blazing as if he was barely holding something back.

“They tried to force you to be his?” His voice was rough, dark, nearly a growl. “Some fuckin’ weak bastard thought he could take what wasn’t his?”

Your pulse pounded, your body tightening under his intense gaze. His words sent a sinful heat curling low in your stomach, your thighs pressing together instinctively.

“I had no choice,” you whispered, voice barely steady.

His expression twisted into something dangerous, something starving.

“You got a choice now.” His grip on your jaw slid lower, fingers curling around your throat—not squeezing, just holding, claiming. “And you ain’t leaving me.”

His lips crashed against yours, all heat and dominance, forcing your mouth open as his tongue shoved inside, tasting you, owning you. He kissed like he wanted to devour, like he needed you to understand exactly who you belonged to now.

Your fingers clawed at his shoulders, but it only made him groan, tilting your head back as he bit at your lips, then your jaw, then lower—his teeth scraping down your throat before he sucked hard at the skin, leaving a mark, a warning.

“You feel that?” He rolled his hips up into yours, the thick, hard heat of him pressing right where you needed it. Your breath hitched, a desperate sound leaving your lips as his fingers dug into your waist, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“That’s what you do to me,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “You think I’d ever let some other bastard touch you? Look at you?” His hands slid up, rough and possessive, gripping your thighs and yanking them wider over his lap, forcing you to take more of him, making you feel just how badly he wanted you.

“Katsuki—”

He grinned against your skin, sharp and wicked. “Nah, princess. You’re not sayin’ anyone else’s name ever again.”

His lips dragged down your throat, over the collar of your tunic, before he ripped the fabric open, teeth scraping over your exposed skin.

A gasp tore from your lips. He chuckled darkly, hands running down your sides, gripping your hips hard.

“You’re mine now.” He ground himself against you, voice thick with promise. “And I’m gonna make damn sure you never forget it.”

His hands were everywhere—gripping, claiming, taking. Rough fingers dug into your thighs as he spread them wider over his lap, forcing you to feel every thick, rigid inch of him pressing against your core. The heat of him was unbearable, scorching through the thin barrier of fabric still separating you.

“You feel that, princess?” Katsuki rasped against your throat, his breath hot, possessive. “That’s what you fuckin’ do to me.”

You whimpered as he rolled his hips, grinding himself right where you needed him most, the pressure sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. His grip tightened on your waist, keeping you exactly where he wanted you—helpless, trembling, desperate.

His lips crashed back against yours, devouring you, tongue thrusting into your mouth in a filthy, claiming kiss. He didn’t kiss like a man—he kissed like a beast, all dominance and hunger, leaving no space for hesitation. His teeth scraped against your lower lip before he bit down, pulling a gasp from your throat.

“Fuckin’ mine,” he growled, voice thick with lust, as his hands tore at your tunic. The fabric gave way beneath his strength, slipping from your shoulders, baring your heated skin to the cool night air.

Katsuki’s gaze darkened as he took you in, his pupils blown wide, his breath ragged. “Shit,” he muttered, running a calloused hand down your stomach, his fingers brushing the waistband of your remaining clothing. “Look at you—fuckin’ perfect.”

A rough hand slid up your bare thigh, his fingers teasing along the inside, just shy of where you ached for him most. You squirmed, a needy whimper slipping past your lips.

He chuckled darkly. “That desperate already?” His fingers brushed higher, barely ghosting over your soaked core. “So fuckin’ wet, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Your head tipped back with a gasp as he pressed two fingers against your clothed heat, rubbing slow, torturous circles. “Katsuki—”

“Nah.” His voice was rough as his free hand wrapped around your throat, tilting your head so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “You don’t get to beg yet.”

Then he was pushing you back onto the table, the wood cool against your overheated skin, his body caging you in. His mouth was everywhere—your throat, your collarbone, lower—his teeth scraping, his tongue soothing, his lips branding you with every touch.

He yanked down your last scrap of clothing, spreading you open before him. His gaze darkened, hunger flickering in his crimson eyes. “Fuck, look at you,” he groaned, dragging a thumb through your slick folds, watching as your body shuddered beneath him. “This all for me, princess?”

You could barely breathe, barely think. “Yes,” you gasped, hips bucking against his touch.

“That’s right.” He smirked, eyes gleaming as he sank to his knees. “Now, let me show you exactly what it means to belong to a dragon.”

Katsuki’s hands were firm as he gripped your thighs, spreading them wider as he knelt between them. His crimson eyes were locked onto your slick, aching heat, his lips curling into a hungry, wolfish grin.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, voice thick with lust, before dragging his tongue slowly up your slit, savoring every bit of you.

A ragged moan tore from your lips as he pressed deeper, his tongue flicking over your swollen clit before sucking it into his mouth, the pressure just enough to make your legs tremble.

You gasped, trying to close your thighs, but his hands held you open, fingers digging into your flesh. “Nah, princess,” he growled against your pussy, the vibration sending shocks through your core. “You wanted this. Now take it.”

His tongue was relentless, licking and sucking, teasing and devouring. He fucked you with it, dipping deep before pulling back to flick his tongue over your clit again, his rough stubble scratching your sensitive skin. The contrast of pain and pleasure made your back arch, your fingers clawing at the wooden table beneath you.

Katsuki groaned as he ate you, like he was starved, like he couldn’t get enough. “Shit,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to spit on your already dripping cunt before diving back in, spreading the wetness with his tongue. “You taste so fuckin’ good.”

Your head fell back, a broken cry leaving your throat as his fingers joined in, two thick digits sinking inside you, stretching you open as he curled them just right, finding that spot that made you see stars.

“Katsuki—fuck—”

He grinned against you, pumping his fingers harder, faster, as his tongue kept circling your clit. “That’s right,” he murmured, his voice like gravel. “Say my fuckin’ name when you come.”

You were so close, body tensed, teetering on the edge. His pace was merciless, fingers and tongue working together until pleasure coiled tight in your stomach, ready to snap.

Then he did it—he sucked your clit into his mouth, hard, and growled.

Your vision went white as your orgasm crashed over you, your entire body shaking, legs clamping around his head as you came with a sharp, broken sob.

Katsuki groaned against you, not stopping, not even slowing, licking up every last drop as you twitched beneath him. Only when you whimpered, too sensitive to handle any more, did he finally pull back, his chin glistening with your slick.

“Good girl,” he rasped, standing up, towering over you with that wild, predatory gleam in his eyes. “But we’re not fuckin’ done.”

His fingers hooked into the waistband of his pants, dragging them down just enough to free his cock—and fuck.

Your breath caught at the sheer size of him, thick and heavy, the tip flushed and leaking. He stroked himself lazily, watching the way your gaze locked onto him, your legs still trembling from your orgasm.

“You ready for me, princess?” he murmured, dragging his cock through your soaked folds, teasing you, making you whimper.

You nodded, breathless, but he clicked his tongue. “Use your words.”

“Yes,” you gasped. “I need you.”

Katsuki smirked, lining himself up before pressing the thick head inside, stretching you wide, making you feel every inch as he sank deeper, deeper, until he was buried to the hilt.

A broken moan ripped from your throat as he bottomed out, his cock filling you completely, pushing you to your limits. He groaned, his forehead dropping to yours, his breath heavy, shuddering.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he muttered, voice wrecked. “Tight little pussy takin’ me so fuckin’ well.”

He pulled back slowly, almost all the way, before slamming back in, making the table creak beneath you.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he started moving, deep, slow thrusts that had you clenching around him, pleasure building all over again.

Then his grip tightened, and he smirked down at you, wicked and hungry.

“Hope you’re ready, princess,” he growled. “’Cause I ain’t stoppin’ ‘til you can’t fuckin’ walk.”

Katsuki’s pace started slow, but it didn’t stay that way for long.

His grip tightened on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you against him, meeting every deep, punishing thrust with a force that had the table beneath you creaking, the rough wood scraping against the stone floor.

“Fuck—look at you,” he growled, eyes dark with hunger as he watched your body bounce with every brutal snap of his hips. “Takin’ me so fuckin’ good, princess.”

Your nails clawed at his back, your mind drowning in the heat of him, in the way his cock stretched you open, filled you to the point of delirium. Every thrust hit that spot, the one that had you seeing stars, had you crying out his name like a prayer.

Katsuki fucking loved it.

“That’s right,” he grunted, one hand wrapping around your throat—not choking, just holding, claiming. His thumb brushed over your pulse, feeling the way it pounded, wild and desperate. “Say it again.”

“Katsuki,” you gasped, barely able to breathe.

His smirk was sharp, filthy. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

Then he really started moving.

He pulled out almost entirely before slamming back in, hard enough to make your whole body jolt. “This—” he growled, punctuating each word with a deep thrust “—is what happens—when you run—into a dragon’s den—”

Your back arched as a scream tore from your throat, pleasure coiling, twisting, burning so hot it threatened to consume you.

Katsuki fucking felt it.

“Close already?” he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Shit—you’re clenchin’ around me so tight.” His grip on your hips was bruising, his thrusts growing rougher, sloppier. “You gonna come for me, princess? Gonna make a mess all over my cock?”

Your body betrayed you.

With one more deep, punishing thrust, your orgasm slammed into you, white-hot and devastating. Your entire body tensed as pleasure crashed over you, your walls fluttering around him, squeezing him like a fucking vice.

Katsuki let out a wrecked groan, his pace stuttering as he felt you come undone around him.

“Fuck—fuck—”

But he wasn’t done.

Not even close.

Before you could even catch your breath, he was flipping you over, pressing your chest against the rough wood, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you back onto his cock.

“Too fuckin’ good,” he growled, his breath hot against your ear as he bottomed out again, deeper this time, his pace unforgiving. “Not stoppin’ till you can’t even think about any other fuckin’ man—”

You whined, overstimulated, trembling, but Katsuki just grinned.

“Come on, princess,” he rasped, voice thick with dark amusement. “Be a good girl and give me another.”

And with the way he was fucking you?

You would.

Again.

And again.

Until all you could say—all you could fucking think about—was him.

Katsuki Bakugo.

Your dragon.

Your ruin.

Your everything.

[miihho]

can do headcannons for Myung-gi? Thank you 😭😭

THE KIND OF GUY

(squid game edition boys) sfw

Myung-gi / Player 333

—HE'S THE KIND OF GUY who found himself in fights more often than he’d like to admit. His past was a tangled mess of mistakes and choices that led him down this path. Most times, when he was beaten down, no one cared enough to stop. They’d walk by, eyes averted, pretending not to see him lying there, bruised and exhausted. The pain was familiar, but it was something he had learned to endure alone. So when he found himself on the ground once again, bloodied and sore, he didn’t expect anything to change. He didn’t expect someone to stop and help.

But then, through the blur of his vision, he saw you. Standing there, glowing like something out of a dream, your eyes full of concern. “Are you alright?” you asked, your voice soft, but it was filled with genuine concern. He blinked, shaking his head as if to clear the daze.

“Yeah…” he muttered, wincing slightly as he grabbed your hand and tried to stand. “It didn’t hurt that much.” He forced a weak smile, brushing the dust off his clothes, but his body was screaming from the blows he’d taken. You didn’t look convinced, your eyes scanning him with a frown. “You have bruises everywhere,” you said softly, taking in the sight of his battered form. “You need help, can i treat you?"

He wanted to refuse. He wanted to push you away and tell you it wasn’t worth it, that he was just someone who always ended up in situations like this. But your steady gaze stopped him. He nodded, letting you lead him away from the scene, knowing this would probably be the first time someone would care enough to make sure he wasn’t left to bleed out in a corner.He didn’t expect much—just a quick fix for the bruises. But as you carefully cleaned his cuts and bruises, your touch gentle and your voice soft, something inside him shifted.

The way you didn’t rush, the way you took your time, treating him with more care than anyone ever had, started to break down the walls he’d built around himself. His body still ached, but there was a warmth in his chest, a quiet comfort he hadn’t felt in years. He wasn’t falling in love with you right away. But in that moment, as you tended to his wounds and your eyes met his, something began to grow, slowly and quietly—an unfamiliar feeling, one that made him want to stay just a little longer.

—He’s the type of guy who keeps a distance from everyone, always a little cold, a little aloof, because it’s easier that way. He’s learned to build walls around himself, to guard his emotions, keeping people at arm’s length so he won’t get hurt. It’s become second nature—familiar and safe. But when it comes to you, everything shifts. You become the exception to the rules, the one who manages to break through the armor he’s so carefully crafted.

In your presence, the ice that’s kept him safe for so long begins to melt. The walls that once seemed impenetrable start to crumble, piece by piece, as he finds himself opening up in ways he never thought possible. It’s a vulnerability he’s not used to, one that both terrifies and comforts him in equal measure. For the first time, he doesn’t have to pretend. With you, he can just be. And it’s that warmth, that quiet shift in his soul, that makes him realize—maybe letting you in wasn’t as frightening as he once thought.

—He's type of guy who’d get nervous around you, never having interacted with a girl properly before. This whole thing was new to him. He would rehearse a simple greeting in front of the mirror, repeatedly stumbling over his words.

"Hello, nice to meet you again," he'd say, practicing until it felt right.

But the moment he saw you, standing there, his mind went blank. Flustered, he blurted out, "Meet hello again."

His face flushed red with embarrassment, and without a word, he quickly walked off, leaving you laughing softly at his awkward charm.

—Hes the kind of guy who would drop to his knees with tear-streaked cheeks, begging for another chance. The kind of guy who would plead, his voice trembling with desperation, asking you to take him back.

— He’s the kind of guy who melts under your touch, leaning into the soft strokes of your fingers as they weave through his hair. With you perched on his lap, his arms wrapped securely around your waist, he looks up at you as if you’re the only thing that matters in the world. His eyes, brimming with warmth, trace every feature of your face, and his smile—soft, tender, overflowing with affection—speaks the words his heart can’t contain. To him, this moment is everything: your closeness, your comfort, the quiet intimacy of being held by the one he loves.

—He’s the kind of guy who would drop everything at a moment’s notice just to make you happy. If you told him you wanted your favorite food, he wouldn’t just order it—he’d make sure it came from the best place, double-checking the details so it’s exactly how you like it. If you said you wanted something more, he’d move mountains to find it, his every action steeped in quiet devotion.

—He’s the kind of guy who would hold your bag without hesitation, tie your shoelaces if they came undone, and memorize all the little things that make you smile. If you said you were cold, he’d wrap his jacket around you without a second thought, even if he ended up freezing. If you called him in the middle of the night, needing someone to talk to, he’d show up at your door, no matter how far or inconvenient it was. If you mentioned something you like, he’d make a mental note and surprise you with it later, just to see the joy in your eyes. He’d stay up late if you needed him, wake up early to make your mornings easier, and cancel his own plans just to be there when you need him most.

For him, your happiness is worth everything. He doesn’t just listen to your words—he treasures them, acting on them like they’re his life’s purpose, because loving you isn’t a chore; it’s his greatest joy.

—He’s the kind of guy who pays attention to the tiniest details about you. Like the songs you hum when you’re happy, the exact shade of your favorite color. He remembers your birthday without needing a reminder, but he also knows the little anniversaries you don’t expect him to, like the day you first met or the first time you smiled at him in that special way.

He’d go out of his way to buy you things that match your favorite color—not just big gifts but the little ones, like a keychain he spotted at the store or a pen because he remembered you needed one. He’d surprise you with your favorite snacks on bad days and bring you flowers that match the hues you love, just to see your face light up.

—He’s the kind of guy who listens intently when you talk, even if it’s about something small, and he brings it up later to let you know he was paying attention. He’d notice when you’re feeling off, even if you try to hide it, and he’d do whatever it takes to make you feel better—whether it’s running to get your comfort food, wrapping you in a blanket, or just holding you until the world feels a little less overwhelming.

To him, it’s the small things that matter most because those details are what make you you, and he wants to love every single one of them.

—He's the kind of guy who stumbles over his words when you get too close, as if your presence is too much for him to handle. You don't realize how his heart races, a frantic rhythm he can't control, every beat echoing the weight of your nearness. He tries to pull away, but it's impossible—you're the only thing that makes him feel alive.

—He's kind of guy who would stay away from you for months, not because he wanted to, but because he believed it was for your safety. He worried endlessly that if anyone saw you with him, they’d make you a target—hurt you just to get to him. The thought of putting you in danger was unbearable, so he chose the distance, even if it tore him apart inside.

—Myung gi is the kind of guy who’d make you believe he has pure intentions, but the truth is far darker. He wants you all to himself—every moment of every day, your laughter, your smile, your touch. It's all his in his mind. The thought of anyone else having even a fraction of you fills him with jealousy, and he’ll do anything to keep it that way. You’re his everything, and in his eyes, no one else deserves a piece of you.

—He’s the kind if guy who secretly craves being treated like a precious little one, wanting to be praised for being good, his heart swelling at every word of affection you give him. When you look at him with that soft, loving gaze, calling him "baby" and showering him with overly sweet pet names, something inside him melts. It's not just the words, it's the way you care for him—like he's fragile, like he’s yours to protect. He acts tough on the outside, but deep down, he’s soft for you. Your attention, your affection—it’s everything to him, and he’s more than willing to be the one who melts under your love. He’d give anything to hear you speak to him like that forever.

(he's so IWBWIWHWIWJ😭😭☹️👊🏻)

[softsunnyy]

jack and quinn convincing luke’s innocent gf that she needs their help to learn how to please luke…otherwise he’s going to leave her…and she doesn’t want that right?

well… i think i went a little too far, this is... a lot

this is also written for my sweet @kawhh, who i hope feels better with these 5.7k words.

and my sweet @ruinix, who knows how long it took me to write this

🚨 threesome, oral sex, slapping (face and ass), swallowing cum, cumming on your body, cumming inside you, both at the same damn time and separately, crying, cheating, manipulation, she's too exhausted, but it's all consensual, being fucked stupid, she was a virgin, anal sex, use of babe/baby, idk how many times it says cock/dick and their names 🚨

y´all know, poorly written!!

when Luke confesses that he and you haven't had sex yet, Quinn and Jack react; something inside them goes off. Like an alarm... or the call of an opportunity.

when they hear that you're a virgin, that you're terrified of not being good enough for him and that's why he's waiting and giving you time, it´s like everything is clear. They know what they have to do, and the way they look at each other is enough to know they want the same thing.

they want you.

so when Luke leaves the house, ready to meet up with his friends, they know you'll be alone at home and Jack is the one who texts you.

it surprises you, of course it does, but it makes you anxious to read that he and Quinn wants to talk to you.

did something bad happen? you wonder.

they barely give you time to change your clothes when they get to your house. They texted you when you were ready for your nighttime routine, and now? now you're walking around the house barefoot, in a tank top and your panties, along with your pajama shorts. You prayed your nipples wouldn't show through the shirt, because that would be embarrassing.

when you open the door for them, you can't identify the hungry look in their eyes, and you let yourself be fooled by their small smiles, which relax you a little. Of course, you miss how their eyes took the opportunity to glance at your tits, or how, when you turned to lead them inside, their eyes quickly scanned your entire body.

they were being primitive. It's like all they could think about was that woman.

but is that so bad?

you invite them to sit and they do, leaving a space between them for you to sit, their legs brushing against yours, sharing a bit of their warmth with you, since your legs had gotten a little chilly from the cold when you opened the door.

you offered them something to drink, even something to eat, but they insisted on being fine, so you tried to find out how they were, to find out why they needed to talk to you so urgently.

"is everything okay? you scared me a little with that text," you admitted, looking at Jack for a moment. He smiled, resting one of his hands on your thigh.

"we're just worried. We wanted to know if you were okay," he said, which confused you, making you frown.

"me? why?" you tilted your head, still not paying attention to his hand on your skin, gripping your thigh like it belonged there.

"well, we saw Luke before he went out with his friends, and for a moment, we thought things were kinda bad between you two," Quinn chimed in, and this time you looked up at him, feeling a little small under his gaze, as always. "He looked frustrated, the kind of frustration your girlfriend usually helps you forget, if you know what i mean," he clarified, and you thought about it for a moment, blushing in understanding, quickly looking down and playing with the edges of your shorts.

"did he say anything about me?" you asked, feeling a pit in your stomach, anxiety at the thought that maybe there's a problem and you hadn't realized it.

"nothing too important, but we thought maybe something had happened." Jack's hand stroked your thigh comfortingly, and Quinn's arm wrapped around your shoulders. "You know, we don't want anything to happen. We like you, and we don't want you two to separate. He seems better with you."

there's a tension you can't quite recognize, making you swallow hard, your body tensing, your skin prickling with goosebumps, your instincts on edge.

"do you think i should talk to him? maybe there's something i didn't realize," you say, trying to ignore what you're feeling. Jack's hand moved up just a little.

"well, i think he'd appreciate it more if you surprised him. It would help him get rid of the frustration," Jack said, to which your cheeks flushed even more, embarrassment clouding your mind.

"well... we didn't, we didn't..." you started to say, moving one of your hands as you spoke, trying to make it clear without having to say it. Quinn smiled at that fact, but tried not to let you see it.

"really?" Jack's tone was intense, laced with false surprise that made you feel even smaller and more embarrassed.

"is it because of him?" Quinn chimed in this time, to which you quickly shook your head.

"no, it's me. I've never... done it, and i'm afraid of not being enough for him," you sighed. You never thought that one day you'd be confessing this to your boyfriend's brothers.

"i don't think you could be bad at it," Quinn replied, caressing one of your arms, while Jack's hand moved up your thigh, getting closer and closer to his goal.

"but it's true that he seems to need it," Jack said, looking at you with false sympathy, like he was telling you the revelation you needed. "You know... sometimes you need it too much, and it can be frustrating when you can't have it."

"but he said he'd wait." A pout formed on your lips.

"yeah, well, you don't normally say something that cruel, baby." Quinn lowered his hand down your back, placing it just above your ass.

they can see your desperation, your fear, in your face, and they know they have you where they want you.

"what else can i do?" your voice was small, and you placed your hand on top of Jack's, looking for comfort, affirmation, an answer that would help you be a good girlfriend and stop letting your sweet boy down.

"well, we can help you," Jack replied, squeezing your thigh, confusing you, making you frown.

"what?"

"it sounds horrible, i know, but we know Luke's story. He's told us every single one of his experiences, what he liked, what he didn't like. We can help you."

now you know what they're talking about, and a huge guilt immediately settles in your chest. You want to give yourself to Luke, but you're too terrified of being horrible and that he'll decide to leave you because he can't get what he wants.

"will you let us help you? he'll be delighted, drooling at how good you are," Jack continued, this time his face closer to yours, increasing the tension, making you nervous. Your legs unconsciously tried to close, but his hand on your thigh prevented it. It was then that you noticed how close he was to your pussy, making you swallow with difficulty.

"i don't want to cheat on him, he..."

"he won't know. We're his brothers helping you with a surprise. It's the least we can do," Quinn interrupted you, his hand so close to your ass it's starting to feel overwhelming.

they know you're hesitating, but they also know their words and touches are confusing you, and all it takes is a little push for you to give in. That's when Jack decides to take a chance, using his free hand, placing it on your cheek, caressing it, bringing your face closer to his until his mouth met yours.

you whimpered against his lips, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue in. You kissed back, your mind clouded. Quinn's hands traveled slowly to touch your tits over your shirt, massaging them, playing with your nipples, which were now visible through the fabric, hard and sensitive.

your back arches as he continues to stimulate them, and your hand leaves Jack's to go to his hair, tangling your fingers in it, gently tugging at it as you tried to keep up with him.

Jack kisses different than Luke; he doesn't have that usual love, but he's still gentle, patient. You know he's in charge, but it doesn't bother you.

Quinn works on your shirt, leaving your tits free, your hard nipples catching the cold air, making you moan against Jack's lips. Quinn plays with one of your tits, but his other hand moves down to your shorts. You wanted to close your legs, but the hand on your thighs prevented it, even opening them a little more.

Quinn's hand touched you first, feeling the heat emanating from your pussy, and began to rub it, making your hips move unconsciously, seeking more friction. It was then that Jack pulled away from your mouth, looking into your eyes, knowing you'd already fallen.

"are you gonna let us help you?" he murmured, close to your face, and you thought about it for a moment, trying to think of the positive side, that you would learn and be the best you could be for Luke. Thinking that at least they´re his brothers.

when you nodded, Jack asked again, wanting to hear your words before continuing. Quinn stopped touching your pussy, equally attentive.

"yes... please, help me," you said, loud enough for both of them to hear.

they both move away from your body, which confuses you, but then Quinn signals for you to stand up, so you do. You finish removing your shirt, leaving it aside.

"kneel in front of us. You're gonna learn how to suffocate on two cocks." Your cheeks turn red again when Jack tells you this, but you obey, getting on your knees, watching as they sat a little closer and pulled down their pants, leaving them only in their underwear.

"you have to finish hardening them. You can touch, kiss, but make sure our cocks are hard before you take them out," Jack ordered, and you tried to follow his instruction. You brought your face down to Quinn's cock, leaving small, wet kisses, feeling how warm his skin is even through the fabric. Your hand went to Jack's bulge, stroking it, rubbing it, leaving small squeezes.

your mouth opened slightly, and you licked the length of it, then kissed again, drawing a gasp from him. Jack placed his hand over yours, guiding you, helping you squeeze his cock just right.

you continued touching them, alternating, placing kisses on Jack's cock and stroking Quinn's. And you could feel how hard they were.

when it was enough, Jack stopped you. "Now take off my underwear." you did as he ordered, pulling down his underwear with his help, watching as his cock rise, proud, veiny, completely hard. Almost instinctively, you leaned in, licking from the base to the tip, then placing a kiss there, drawing a groan from him that was much louder than the previous ones.

"don't forget about me, babe." Quinn caught your attention, and embarrassed, you moved over to him, scraping your knees more. When you removed his underwear, you repeated the process, wanting both to feel equally pleased. He smirked at this, and his hand slapped your face gently, as if to say "good dog." And that made your pussy a little wetter, causing you to try to rub yourself against the floor, looking pathetic and desperate in his eyes.

"come on, you have to keep going," Quinn teased you, to which you nodded, taking his cock in one of your hands, jerking him off slowly. "Put it in your mouth," he ordered, and you obeyed, opening your lips and trying to swallow him completely, which clearly didn't work, causing you to gag and have to pull out, coughing. He laughed at you.

"careful, you can go slow. Remember, we're teaching you," Jack reminded you, so you decided to try again, this time going slower, pushing his cock in inch by inch until you reached your limit. "Good girl," he congratulated you, making you feel strangely proud. "Now move your head, suck, lick. Try to jerk off what doesn't go in, you know how to do it." And that's what you did, trying to do it properly. Quinn helped you by putting a hand in your hair, guiding you to move your head up and down at a faster pace, starting to abuse your throat. Little by little, he began to ignore your moans and your gagging, and he can see you moving your hand to Jack, jerking him off to keep paying attention to him, squeezing him like he'd told you.

strings of your drool trickled down Quinn's cock, and your gagging was now a little more under control. You were getting better at swallowing his cock, and he could cum just from the sight.

"doing so good for me" he complimented you, moving his hips, thrusting into your mouth, making you choke for a moment. After that, you had to pull away, gasping for air, feeling it burn in your lungs, and then you moved, scraping your knees to get closer to Jack, who was waiting for you with a smile.

you swallowed his cock like you were already an expert, bringing your hand to Quinn's dick, spreading your drool all over it as you sucked the cock into your mouth. The sensation clouds your mind; you feel addicted. It feels so good you could hold them in your mouth all day, their full weight on your tongue, destroying your throat, making you choke and gag.

you moved more fiercely, and Jack moaned your name, delighted. Without realizing it, you began to masturbate Quinn a little more vigorously, making his cock throb under your hand, desperately wanting to cum.

"are you gonna swallow it?" Jack looked at you, and you could only stare back at him, your eyes glazed over, your mouth full. "Of course you will, you're gonna be a good girl for me," he said, agitated, and you wanted to nod, tell him that you would be, but you could only let him move his hips, taking his entire cock in, fucking your throat like you could take it, making tears stream down your face and the air stop going to your lungs. Your face starts to turn red and long, thick strips of cum start to fill your tongue, running down your throat as you do your best to swallow without choking.

when he finished cumming, he pulled his cock out of you, and you were able to swallow the rest calmly, sticking out your tongue to show him you obeyed him. He smiled at you, and you were able to move to Quinn, now devouring his cock, desperate to make him cum, to make his dick fill your throat with his fluids. You need it, you want it. Quinn feels overstimulated, moaning at how well you're doing, and that's when he cums, filling your mouth, making you moan with satisfaction, too cockdrunk to think about anything else.

you swallowed everything as you rubbed your pussy against the floor again, leaving a wet patch on both your clothes and the floor. You showed him your tongue so he knew you were good.

"good girl," he complimented you, to which you smiled, feeling warmth in your chest and an overwhelming need to keep receiving their compliments.

"now i want you face down, ass up," Jack ordered, and you nodded. They got up from the couch to give you space, and you settled in. Quinn stood behind you, while Jack stood in front of you, his cock close to your face. "He'll be gentle... or he'll try," he told you, referring to his older brother. In response, Quinn slapped your ass a bit hard, making you moan in surprise, though instead of pushing you away, your pussy only got wetter.

Quinn took off your shorts, seeing the huge wet patch on your panties. It was big; it made him smile.

Jack motioned for you to start touching his cock, so you did, taking him in your hand again, masturbating slowly this time, not knowing what to expect from Quinn. Behind you, he leaned down and began licking your pussy through your clothes, wandering over your folds and touching your clit, tasting you even through your panties, and smelling your arousal, feeling dizzy. You moaned loudly, surprised, feeling the fabric stick to your skin, cold. And the way his beard scraped your skin, irritating it.

Jack slapped you gently to remind you of him, noticing that you'd stopped masturbating him, so you went back to it, wanting to be good. But it's a difficult task when Quinn is devouring your pussy through the fabric, soaking your panties so much that the material is almost transparent. It was then that he broke the fabric, ripping it, opening a gaping hole that gave him access to your pussy. Then he began to devour you directly, sucking on your clit, teasing your hole. Your fluids dripped down his chin, making a mess on his face, and your pussy became increasingly irritated by his beard, making you moan desperately, so loud that Jack decided to silence you by shoving his cock into your mouth. Your noises vibrated against its length.

Quinn uses one of his hands to part your folds and spits on your hole, watching as his drool ran down the middle and reached your clit. It's wild, disgusting, but he loves it, so he slaps your pussy a couple of times with his hand, spreading his drool, making your juices squirt, overstimulating your pussy. You try to move closer to his face, but you can't.

Jack places two hands in your hair, gripping you tightly, holding you still in place, slowly fucking your throat, feeling his cock slowly harden again.

Quinn decides to put one of his fingers into your tight hole, and fat, hot tears run down your cheeks. Your walls stretch, molding to his finger. And he moves it in and out, exploring, getting to know your insides, feeling how tight you are.

you're going to suffocate his cock. Maybe even break in two with how tight you are. The thought alone drives him crazy, and he decides not to wait, putting another finger inside you, moving them faster, helping himself with your fluids, trying to prepare you for him and for Jack.

his brother tries to keep the pace slow, but it's hard when you're sucking him like that, like a goddess, covering his cock with drool, swallowing him like a good whore, like he belongs in your mouth.

Quinn hammers into you with his fingers until he feels you're close to cumming, pulling them out, listening to you moan with your mouth full, drawing a laugh from him. "You have nothing to complain about," he mocked. With his hands, he spread your ass, staring at your hole. He spit again, watching some of his drool enter your newly stretched hole.

the image alone could make him cum.

finally, he takes his cock, guiding it to your pussy, rubbing it between your folds. Inside, you feel a little panicked, though it's not much considering your foggy mind and the way Jack is fucking your throat.

Quinn stars to slowly put his dick into your hole, moving all the way in. You moan, feeling some pain, though not as much as you expected. His cock feels huge inside you, it's like he's everywhere. And he's hitting something sensitive, a spot inside you that makes your legs want to close. Your moans are so loud that Jack can't resist and he starts moving faster, using his hands in your hair to support himself, fucking your throat at a pace that almost takes your breath away.

Quinn decides to wait for you to relax a little, feeling suffocated by how hard you're squeezing him. But Jack? Jack hears your gags, feels your drool falling down his thighs, staining your chin, the couch, everything. Your throat burns, stings like never before, and you feel like after this you'll be unable to speak.

Quinn left soft caresses on your hip, trying to relax you until he felt you loosen a little. Then he began to move, in and out of you slowly, trying to get you used to the feeling, trying not to hurt you.

his cock slides in and out of you, making an obscene sound thanks to how soaked you are.

Jack feels on the edge, but decides to slow down, pulling out of your mouth, using his cock to slap your cheek, smearing you with your drool, making you feel his dick against your face. And you rub yourself, kissing the base, moaning heavily.

Quinn begins to move faster, giving in to his desires, and you can feel him going deeper and deeper inside you, molding your walls to his size, taking possession of your first time, of your pussy, marking his name deep inside you.

he moves fast, intense, making a mess of your pussy, irritating the skin of your ass. And he starts to lose control, slapping your ass over and over again, watching your skin turn bright red and wild, with the shape of his hands.

his cock slams so hard inside you that you feel like you're going to break, it's like he's tearing you apart. There's no way this can be healthy. You cry, and your tears reach Jack's cock, which throbs against your face, holding back his desire to cum at the sight before him.

you feel a pressure in your lower abdomen, an overwhelming need to release, and it´s like you can't resist. And you try to warn Quinn, but he feels it in your walls, which are spasming just like your legs. Your hole tightened again, making it almost impossible to move inside you, but he kept at it. Your orgasm was so strong that for a moment you saw black, your body lost strength, and between the two of them, they had to hold you while you made a mess of Quinn's cock.

he had to pull out of you, cumming in your ass, staining your panties, making his cum burn on your irritated skin.

and you thought they were over, so you closed your eyes, trying to control your breathing and calm your heartbeat. Your legs ache, your ass hurts, and you feel like talking will be the worst torture.

that's when you feel movement around you, and you decide to open your eyes to see what's happening.

in front of you now stands Quinn, and your eyes widen in panic when you realize Jack has taken his place behind you.

"what? you thought you were only going to learn from me?" Quinn mocked.

Jack didn't try to stretch you or help you at all, knowing you were already ready for him. So he took his cock in his hand. His tip was red, hangry. He thrust inside you in one motion, and you whimpered, feeling overly sensitive, a huge tingle inside you.

Quinn leaned down a little, and with both hands, lifted your face so he could lean in close and kiss you. It's the first time he's kissed you, and he'll use it to distract you, so Jack can start without feeling guilty.

Quinn is possessive, his mouth seems to claim yours, and he feels so good that you try to keep kissing him.

he's different from Luke and Jack; he's like a drug.

Jack begins to move, not too fast, not too slow, watching in awe as his cock slides in and out of you, stretching your pussy, molding it to his size this time. And your pussy swallows him, receiving him like it belongs there, like you should always have his cock buried inside you.

when the kiss between you and Quinn starts to get out of hand, Jack starts moving faster, harder, and you moan against the Quinn's mouth, feeling how deep Jack's cock is touching you.

Quinn moves one of his hands to your tits and begins to play with your nipple, increasing your overstimulation, making it so that you can't continue the kiss without feeling like it's too much.

Jack puts his hands on your hips so he can move harder, and his grip is so tight it starts to leave bruises, bruises that will later turn into violent colors, reminding you of what you did, just as much as the painted hands on your ass. And the thought makes him moan, hammering inside you, feeling how he wants to come, and considering doing it inside you, inside your clenching walls.

and you don't even see it coming; you're so overstimulated that you don't even recognize the urge to cum, so it just happens, making another mess with your fluids, creating a small pool on the couch. And for Jack, it's almost irresistible. He wants to last longer, but playing with your mouth had sent him over the edge, so he pulls out of you just in time, staining your pussy, watching as your cum stains your inner thighs and folds. Some also fell onto the couch, along with your fluids.

they give you a second to breathe, because they know you need it, but when they feel you calmer, they move again, and Quinn starts moving your body, lifting you slightly so Jack could get under you, then you on top, sitting almost on his cock.

"what?" you said, your voice hoarse and broken, and suddenly feeling terrified. Your body can't take another round. It'll break. That's what you thought.

"relax, we'll be careful," Jack promised, though that didn't make you feel any calmer.

“no... no, i can’t do it again…” you tried to protest, but Quin made you lift up a little, and Jack aligned his cock with your hole, inserting the tip carefully. Quinn helped you go down, and you can’t believe how much he feels even deeper now, hitting your cervix, destroying you. Your eyes are sore from all the crying, so it hurts when you want to whimper again. Your throat aches with every moan, and your legs are numb. Still, you try to please him, moving back and forth, in circles, whatever, just trying to move with what little strength you have left. You can feel him getting harder and harder inside you with every movement, but before you can move any more desperately, his hands find your waist, signaling that you could go up and down. Your legs are shaking with each lift, but it's starting to feel good, so you ignore it, placing your hands on Jack's abdomen, feeling his cock slide deeper inside you.

Quinn, from behind, puts some pressure on your back, causing you to almost lie on Jack's chest. You want to ask, but you feel him start to tear your poor panties even further, beginning to rub against your other hole. Your eyes widen, but you don't even have the strength to protest, to beg him for mercy. You just let him do whatever he wants with your body, and he notices, so he keeps rubbing, using both of your fluids, trying to get you to relax. Jack beneath you begins to move his hips, helping you move with the new position, and the combined stimulation makes you turn your head to the side, looking at Quinn and nodding to him.

he smiles and slowly inserts a finger all the way inside. It feels weird, different, and you can't tell if you like it. But Quinn starts moving his finger, sliding in and out, helping you get used to it while Jack keeps moving inside your pussy, leaving you with no time to think about the pain or discomfort. It's overwhelming, but you let them continue.

Quinn insert another finger and he moves them faster, it's easier. He knows that with how tight you are, you might need another one, so he keeps preparing you, grateful that Jack is helping you cloud your mind.

you whimper, feeling so open and exposed. So dirty. You scold yourself for resisting the idea, for refusing to feel something as pleasurable as this. And you wonder if with more experience this would be even better, if you'd have more stamina to last more rounds, for more fun.

when Quinn senses you're ready, he pulls his fingers out of you, and you pout, slightly disappointed. It doesn't last long, though, as you soon feel his tip pushing its way inside your hole, entering slowly, even more gently than he had in your pussy. Jack stopped to still your body, and you moaned loudly as he pushed deeper and deeper.

it hurts, and you want to tell him, but you can only whimper and stare at Jack with glassy eyes. He understands, so he places his lips on yours, trying to distract you. His hands grip your waist, and he helps you move slowly, helping both cocks move inside you.

you've never felt so full, so used.

you were being a whore for them.

Quinn matches your movements, sliding in and out of you, abusing your ass, moving harder and harder, noticing how your moans begin to die in his brother's mouth, and how your body begins to relax. He feels he's in control again, and it drives him crazy. He's taking another first time, taking over another of your holes, and he knows that every time you want to think about the first man to shove his cock deep inside you, you'll have to think about him and how good he made you feel.

they move fast, intense. The place smells strongly of you, of sex, of this guilty union. Along with the scent of your arousal. It's addictive, like a drug.

you feel that knot inside you again, faster than the other times, and you're embarrassed, but you're so open and so tight that you can't resist, cumming just when the fun was just beginning. And you're suffocating their cocks, so much that Jack pulls away from you a little to moan, throwing his head back.

almost instinctively, you lean in, leaving wet kisses on his neck, even daring to lick, bite, suck. You don't know why, but you needed to do it, needed to leave your mark on both of them. Something possessive inside you ignited when you saw the possibility.

the movement of you leaning in made Quinn slide out of you a little, and suddenly a thought came to his mind, something different that might hurt you a little at first. But he can't help it, not now.

he pulls his cock out of your ass completely, but before you can complain, his tip touches your filled hole. Jack feels it, but decides not to say anything, just lets it continue. He knows what's coming. And he yearns for it just the same.

when they decided to use you, to come to your house and corrupt your body and mind completely, they agreed they'd try as many things as they could, as long as you'd let them. So he's not going to refuse. Not when it means this will make you even more addicted to them. You won't be able to forget them, to let them go. No matter how many times you're with Luke after this, it'll never feel like that first time, when you let his brothers mark their names deep inside you, getting used to their rhythms, sizes. To their fun.

you feel pain when Quinn begins to push into your pussy. It's like your walls are tearing apart, letting yourself be filled even more, following Jack's cock, forgetting that it's your first time, that your body is exhausted, that you've come so many times that your body is completely sensitive.

and yet, you let him continue.

with difficulty, he moves as deep as he can, and they give you a moment to breathe, to adjust, until you begin to move on your own, trying to feel them deeper, sliding in, filling you. You're dizzy, and they move, making you feel broken, to the edge.

the way your walls suffocate them makes it hard to go faster, but little by little, Jack picks up a little more pace, and then Quinn is the one who moves harder. They feel their cocks together, taking ownership, fighting for space, to be the one who makes you cum one last time.

the way they look and touch your body is obsessive.

Quinn's hands went to your breasts, and your body lifted a little, detaching yourself from Jack, allowing him to play with your tits, squeezing them, massaging them, letting them bounce with the movements. And his face went to your shoulder, biting, leaving his mark, and making his beard irritate your skin.

Jack was mesmerized by the way you move, how your body looks completely used, exhausted. He wants to see you like this forever, like his personal whore.

he wants to use you whenever he wants. Arriving at your house when he knows Luke won't be there, taking the opportunity to show you more things, to get you used to his favorite poses, his favorite rhythm.

he wants you to be able to think of no one else after this.

and soon you feel the urge to cum, doing it intensely. This time, though, they did too. And you expected them to burst out of you like the previous times, but you can't deny how good it felt when thick, white loads filled your insides. Their cum stained your gummy walls, filling you up. And they didn't move from inside you for a while. Everyone tried to calm their breathing, taking in everything that just happened.

and you wanna feel guilty, but you can't, not when you feel this good, when all you can do is smile and curl up in Jack's body, wishing they'd take care of you, treat you well, make you feel this good all the time.

and they know they did a good job, that they fulfilled their mission, so they sigh, satisfied.

although... maybe they'll have to train you a little more, just to be safe, to make sure you're even better. You know.

from now on, Luke may have to share you, because his brothers can't seem to leave your body, to stop using you. And you won't be able to forget them, not after this.

[scoupsakakitty]

Knock Knock | idol!s.coups x idol!reader | angst

The cool night air brushed against Y/N’s face as she walked through the dimly lit streets of Seoul, her phone held up as she went live for her fans. The city buzzed softly around her distant car engines, faint chatter, and the rhythmic sound of her footsteps on the pavement. She’d just finished an intense dance practice, her muscles aching but her spirit still lively as she interacted with her fans.

Her smile, however, didn’t fully reach her eyes.

Every now and then, her gaze flickered nervously over her shoulder, her footsteps slowing slightly. Her breath hitched, though she tried to mask it with small laughs, brushing off the tension with casual comments. But her fans weren’t blind.

“Why do you keep looking back?”

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

“Is someone following you?”

She swallowed hard, forcing a shaky smile. “It’s nothing,” she whispered, her voice thinner than usual. But her eyes told a different story wide, alert, and filled with fear.

She kept walking, her heart pounding faster with each step. The feeling of being watched grew heavier, like a shadow clinging to her back. Eventually, she stopped mid-sentence, glancing back one more time, her face tense.

Then she spoke, her voice firm despite the tremble. “I just want to say this,” she began, her fingers tightening around her phone, “it’s not okay to follow idols. It’s not okay to make us feel unsafe. Sasaengs are not fans.”

The chat exploded, filled with worried messages, but Y/N didn’t linger on the topic. She sighed, trying to shake off the fear as she approached her apartment building. She entered quickly, locking the door behind her with trembling hands. She leaned against it for a moment, taking deep breaths before forcing herself to smile again for the live.

“Anyway,” she said, her voice lighter than she felt, “let’s talk about something else.”

She chatted about rehearsals, upcoming schedules, random funny stories anything to drown out the lingering fear in her chest. But then—

Ding dong.

Her doorbell rang.

She froze.

Her face went pale, her breath catching in her throat. The chat exploded again:

“Who is that?”

“Did someone follow you home?!”

“Y/N, don’t open the door!”

A few seconds later knock, knock, knock.

Louder. More urgent.

Panic surged through her veins. She stood up, her phone shaking slightly in her hand as she approached the door cautiously.

The live glitched for a moment, pausing briefly as her phone started ringing. She flinched at the sound, staring at the caller ID. An unknown number. Her heart sank.

She declined the call, but it rang again almost immediately.

When she finally answered, her voice was barely a whisper. “Please… just go away.”

Her hands trembled uncontrollably. She didn’t even realize her live was still going viewers watching every terrifying second.

Eventually, she grabbed her phone, her face filled with fear and exhaustion, and ended the live without saying another word.

Seungcheol had been watching the live from his apartment, his heart pounding in his chest. The moment the screen went black, he didn’t hesitate.

He was already grabbing his jacket, his keys jingling in his shaky hands as he rushed out the door. His mind raced with worst-case scenarios, panic clouding his thoughts.

Please be okay. Please be okay.

It took him less than 15 minutes to get to her apartment, speeding through the empty Seoul streets, his heart beating louder than the car’s engine.

When he arrived, he didn’t even bother with the elevator. He sprinted up the stairs, his legs burning but his fear pushing him forward.

When he reached her door, he banged on it, his voice raw with worry. “Y/N! It’s me! Open up, please!”

The door creaked open slowly, and there she was.

Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes red and puffy, her body trembling like a leaf in the wind. She didn’t say a word just looked at him with broken eyes, like she was holding herself together by a thread.

Seungcheol didn’t hesitate. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as she broke down, sobbing into his chest. Her fingers clutched his jacket desperately, like he was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I’m here now. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

She couldn’t stop shaking.

Seungcheol kept whispering comforting words, running his hand gently through her hair, trying to steady her breathing. He felt her tears soak through his shirt, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that she was alive, that she was here.

But then—

Flash.

A sudden burst of light from outside the hallway window.

Seungcheol’s body tensed instantly. He turned his head sharply, just in time to see a figure disappearing around the corner a camera still faintly visible in their hand.

His jaw clenched. His heart raced with a different kind of fear now anger.

Without a word, he guided Y/N back inside, locking the door securely behind them. His mind was racing. The photo. Their secret. The world would know.

Y/N seemed to realize it too because she mumbled through her tears, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. This is my fault. Now they’ll know. Your career—”

“Hey,” Seungcheol interrupted, cupping her face gently, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were soft but filled with determination. “I don’t care about any of that. You hear me? I don’t care if the whole world finds out. The only thing that matters to me is you. That you’re safe.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again, but this time they weren’t just from fear they were from relief.

“I’m staying here tonight,” he whispered, pulling her back into his arms. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

Later, as they lay in her bed, Y/N clung to him tightly, her body still trembling with the remnants of fear. Seungcheol held her close, his arms wrapped around her protectively. He whispered softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on her back.

“It’s okay now. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

She eventually drifted off to sleep in his arms, her breathing slow and steady against his chest. Seungcheol stayed awake for a long time, watching over her, his heart still heavy with worry but also filled with love.

Because nothing else mattered.

Not the photo.

Not the rumors that would come.

Not the world.

Just her.

————————————————————————————-

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hi my love please please please could you write for any driver but preferably Charles or George with a daughter who was born really early and with a heart condition so they were super worried but once she’s older (like 15) she’s really sporty but she still like faints sometimes and gets really sick and dizzy and just her dad and honorary uncles helping her out a couple times in the paddock cos their all so used to it

Stronger than you think

George had always known he would be a protective dad. He wasn’t ashamed of it. From the moment Yn came into the world too early, too fragile, with a heart condition that had left him and Carmen sleepless for weeks on end, he had promised himself he’d always be there.

And he had been. Every hospital visit, every late-night fever, every dizzy spell—he was there, holding her hand, reassuring her, sometimes pretending he wasn’t terrified himself.

Yn was fifteen now, and she was stubborn. She had fallen in love with tennis when she was ten, and despite everything—the fainting, the exhaustion, the doctor’s warnings that she had to be careful—she refused to give up.

George admired that about her. He also hated it. Because every time she stepped onto the court, he worried. Every time she insisted she was fine, he doubted it. And every time she got dizzy, he was reminded that his baby girl was still fragile, no matter how strong she tried to be.

Which was exactly why he was on edge every time she joined him at a race weekend. The heat, the long walks, the excitement—it was a recipe for disaster. And George, along with her honorary uncles, had long perfected the art of handling it when things went south.

It happened in Saudi-Arabia.

Yn had been fine all morning, sipping on the electrolyte drink her mom had packed, chatting with Lando about some ridiculous show they were both watching. George had kept an eye on her, as he always did, but she looked good. Healthy.

That lasted until just before qualifying.

George was getting ready to leave the hospitality area when he caught Alex’s eyes widen slightly, glancing toward Yn.

“Uh, mate?” Alex’s voice was calm but urgent.

George turned and saw it immediately. Yn had gone pale—too pale. Her hands gripped the counter, her breathing quickening.

“Yn,” George was at her side in a second, his hands on her arms. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”

Yn squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. “Dizzy,” she whispered.

Alex had already moved, pulling a chair over. “Here, sit down.”

George guided her onto the chair as Lando appeared, kneeling in front of her. “Did you drink enough?” Lando asked, voice softer than usual.

“She did,” George answered for her, brushing a few damp strands of hair from her forehead. “It’s just the heat, probably. You’re okay, love, just breathe.”

Yn nodded, gripping his arm as if grounding herself. “Sorry,” she muttered.

Lando scoffed. “Don’t be dumb. It’s fine.”

Alex reappeared with a cold towel, pressing it against the back of her neck. “You’re doing great, kid.”

Yn huffed a weak laugh. “I hate this.”

George’s heart clenched. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Just let it pass.”

Yn leaned against him, and George felt the tension in his chest loosen slightly when her breathing evened out. It was always like this—a scare, a moment of helplessness, and then she’d be fine again.

But that never made it easier.

It was Saturday in Silverstone when it happened again.

Yn had been feeling good that morning—excited even. Charles had promised to take her to the Ferrari garage and show her the car up close, and she had been buzzing about it for hours.

But excitement, George had learned, could be just as dangerous as exhaustion.

They were halfway through the tour when Charles suddenly reached out, catching Yn’s arm as she swayed slightly.

“Woah,” Charles steadied her, his grip firm but gentle. “Yn, you okay?”

Yn blinked rapidly, exhaling sharply. “Uh. No. Not really.”

George had been walking just a few steps behind, and his heart nearly stopped when he saw her expression.

Charles didn’t hesitate. “Come, sit down.”

He led her to a small bench, guiding her down as George rushed over.

Yn let out a shaky laugh. “This is so embarrassing.”

George crouched in front of her, checking her pulse. “You feeling faint?”

Yn nodded. “Yeah. A little.”

Charles had already grabbed a bottle of water, twisting off the cap and handing it to her. “Sip this. Slowly.”

George exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “This keeps happening,” he muttered.

Charles patted his shoulder. “She’s okay.”

Yn made a face. “I don’t feel okay.”

Charles chuckled. “I know, but you will.”

They stayed there for a few more minutes, Charles and George keeping a careful watch over her. Eventually, the color returned to her face, and she sighed, leaning against her dad’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

George kissed the top of her head. “Stop apologizing, love.”

Charles grinned. “Yeah, you’re just keeping us on our toes.”

Yn groaned. “I hate being the fragile one.”

George’s grip on her tightened slightly. “You’re not fragile,” he said. “You’re stronger than anyone I know.”

She looked up at him, eyes bright despite the exhaustion. “Really?”

George smiled. “Really.”

It was the summer break, and George had thought Yn would get a much-needed rest.

But no. She had been training for an upcoming tennis tournament, and by the time she arrived at the next race weekend, she was already drained.

It didn’t take long for Lando to notice.

“Alright, what’s up with you?” he asked after she sat down with a little too much effort.

Yn blinked at him. “Nothing?”

Lando raised a brow. “Right. And I’m an astronaut.”

Yn rolled her eyes. “I’m just tired.”

Lando turned to George, who sighed. “She’s been pushing herself too hard.”

Yn scoffed. “I have not.”

Lando narrowed his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Yn groaned, rubbing her temples. “Can you guys stop treating me like I’m made of glass?”

Lando grinned. “Never.”

Yn groaned louder, but before she could argue more, Lando pulled out his phone.

“Okay, we’re gonna play a game,” he announced.

Yn blinked. “What?”

“A game,” Lando repeated. “Distraction tactics. I ask you questions, you answer them. No thinking too hard.”

Yn sighed. “Fine.”

Lando smirked. “Alright, what’s the worst movie you’ve ever seen?”

Yn frowned. “Uh. That one you made me watch. The one about the talking dog.”

Lando gasped dramatically. “That movie is a masterpiece!”

George chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s right, mate. It was terrible.”

Yn grinned. “See?”

Lando pretended to look offended. “Unbelievable.”

Yn laughed, and for a moment, she looked like she wasn’t exhausted. And that was all Lando needed.

George sent him a grateful look. Lando just shrugged.

This was their routine. And they were damn good at it.

That night, after the race, George found Yn sitting outside, staring at the stars.

He sat beside her, nudging her knee with his. “What’s on your mind?”

Yn sighed. “I just… hate that this keeps happening.”

George stayed quiet, letting her speak.

“I hate that I still faint. I hate that I still get dizzy. I hate that everyone worries about me.” She exhaled, eyes glassy. “I just wanna be normal.”

George’s heart ached. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “Yn, listen to me. You are normal. And you’re also strong. And brave. And kind. And stubborn as hell.”

Yn snorted. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

George smiled. “It is.”

She leaned against him. “Thanks, Dad.”

George kissed her hair. “Always, sweetheart.”

And he meant it. No matter how many times she fainted, no matter how many times she got sick—he would always be there. Because that’s what fathers did.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves! I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🩷🎀

[zeroseuniverse]

Love Consumes

Word Count: 688 Summary: "Why do you care?" His voice came out sharper than he intended. You just smiled, unfazed. "Because I do." Pairing: Woozi X Reader

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Woozi had never been the type to let anyone in.

It wasn’t that he hated people—he just had no time for them. His life revolved around his work, his music, and the ruthless perfectionism that ensured no one could touch him. He was respected, admired, even feared by some, but never close to anyone. That was how he liked it.

Then you came along.

At first, he didn't take you seriously. You were too carefree, too reckless with your heart, too unbothered by the walls he had built. You were the kind of person who smiled too easily, who laughed at things he found unremarkable, who walked into a room and made it feel lighter. He told himself he was indifferent, that you were just another person passing through his orbit.

But indifference didn’t explain why his eyes always sought you in a crowded room. It didn’t explain the way his heartbeat changed when you called his name, the way his hands lingered when they brushed against yours, the way he found himself staying just a little longer whenever you were around.

One night, after an exhausting studio session, he found you waiting outside, coffee in hand. "You need to eat," you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He stared at you, something unrecognizable twisting in his chest. "Why do you care?" His voice came out sharper than he intended.

You just smiled, unfazed. "Because I do."

Something cracked inside him. Something terrifying.

He had spent his entire life untouchable, untamed by sentiment, unshaken by love. But you—somehow, effortlessly—you disarmed him. And as he stood there, staring at you in the dim glow of the streetlights, realization settled like a weight in his bones.

Oh.

Oh.

His love for you was going to destroy him.

Woozi had always been careful. Always in control. He built his world with precision, every detail fine-tuned, every note of his life composed exactly the way he wanted.

But you were an unscripted melody. A song that refused to fit into his perfect structure.

That night, after you handed him the coffee, you didn’t push him for conversation. You just stood there beside him, sipping your own drink like it was the most natural thing in the world to be waiting for him at 2 a.m. in the cold.

Woozi should have left. Should have told you to go home. Should have reinforced the distance he had always maintained with everyone else.

Instead, he found himself saying, "You shouldn’t wait up for me."

You hummed thoughtfully, eyes flickering up to his. "I know."

"Then why do it?"

You exhaled softly, tilting your head. "Because you never wait for anyone to take care of you. So someone has to."

His grip tightened around the coffee cup. He didn’t know what to do with that. With you. With the quiet, effortless way you wove yourself into his life, slipping through his defenses before he even realized he had let you in.

It was frustrating. Maddening. Addictive.

And it only got worse.

The late nights turned into early mornings. Passing moments turned into long conversations, stolen in the rare gaps between his endless work. And before he knew it, you weren’t just someone in his life—you were a necessity.

One evening, after another exhausting day in the studio, he found himself at your door instead of his own. He didn’t even remember making the decision to come. It was instinct now—like a magnet pulling him toward you.

You opened the door, surprised but not displeased. "Woozi?"

He stared at you for a long moment, something raw and unfamiliar burning in his chest. "I don’t know what you’ve done to me," he admitted, voice quieter than usual. "But I don’t think I can go back to how I was before."

Your expression softened, warmth filling your eyes as you reached for his hand. "Then don’t."

And for the first time in his life, Woozi let himself fall.

Because love like this was terrifying, overwhelming, all-consuming.

But if it was you—if you were the one destroying him—then maybe he didn’t mind breaking.

[thedensworld]

Born Superhero | J.Ww

Genre: fluff, parent au!

Summary: Started as clueless father to superhero, watch how Wonwoo grow as a father... And a husband.

The pregnancy wasn’t an accident; it was simply... A little unexpected. Okay, very unexpected. You and Wonwoo had been married for only six months—still in the honeymoon phase, barely used to sharing closet space—when life threw you both a curveball.

Wonwoo was overseas on a business trip when he got the alarming call that you had passed out at work. The reassurances from friends didn’t help; his mind raced with every possibility, from exhaustion to something far worse. Before he knew it, he was on the earliest flight back, heart thudding as if it were trying to make its way home ahead of him.

When he finally walked through the door, ready to scold you for pushing yourself too hard, he was met with news that rendered him speechless: you were pregnant. He’d always imagined having kids... someday. But not when he was still trying to remember which side of the bed was "his."

His lips curled into a smile, the kind meant to comfort you as you nervously searched his face for a reaction. But inside? Oh, inside he was trembling so hard he half-expected an earthquake warning to pop up on the TV. Fatherhood. He was going to be a dad. The idea was thrilling, terrifying, and somehow as surreal as finding socks in the fridge.

"Well," he said, pulling you into his arms and trying not to sound like a man whose life just did a triple somersault, "I guess this explains why you kept craving pickles and ice cream together."

Wonwoo made it his mission to be your unwavering support system, even when a storm brewed behind his calm eyes. He bottled up the anxiety gnawing at him—the nagging questions about whether he’d be a good father, if he could handle the responsibility, or if he would ever stop feeling like a deer caught in the headlights of parenthood. He couldn’t bear the thought of adding his fears to your plate when you were already dealing with morning sickness that had you running to the bathroom at all hours, leg cramps that turned simple walks into wobbly adventures, and sleepless nights that left you both bleary-eyed.

So, he channeled every ounce of that anxious energy into action. He worked harder than ever, managing late nights and early mornings, making sure everything you could possibly need was taken care of—from prenatal vitamins to setting up the nursery with the precision of a man assembling a palace. Wonwoo learned to cook your favorite comfort meals, and when you suddenly decided the smell of his go-to cologne made you queasy, he switched brands without a word of complaint. He’d hold your hand through doctor appointments, his smile steady even as the “dad” word hovered in his mind like a flashing neon sign.

And when the big day came, Wonwoo felt time stop as he watched you, the love of his life, bring a new one into the world. All the fear, the endless late-night overthinking—it all melted away the moment he laid eyes on Jeon Rayi. The boy had his eyes, the same quiet intensity, and as he let out his first tiny wail, Wonwoo realized something: he was already a father, whether he felt ready or not.

As you cradled Rayi, exhausted but beaming, Wonwoo gently took his son into his arms. The weight was different than he expected, lighter but powerful, grounding him in a way he didn’t know he needed.

“Look at him,” you whispered, teary-eyed and smiling. “He’s your little twin.”

Wonwoo’s chest swelled with emotion as he looked down at Rayi, whose eyes were now blinking up at him as if to say, Gotcha, Dad.

One thing Wonwoo couldn’t quite shake from his mind was the moment before he first laid eyes on Rayi—the moment when you, exhausted and trembling, brought him into the world. He'd watched enough viral videos of husbands fainting in the delivery room to think he was prepared for anything. I’ll be fine, he’d told himself. But when it actually happened, when he saw you gripping the sides of the bed, your face etched with pain so raw it made his chest tighten, his whole body turned to stone. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, only stare wide-eyed as you endured each wave of agony.

Seeing you in pain, your body shaking as the delivery was finally declared successful, felt like a blow that rattled every nerve he had. All he wanted was to wrap you in his arms, to kiss away every tear and tell you a thousand times over how much he loved you. But he stood there, stunned and aching, until the first tiny cry of Rayi snapped him back to reality.

When the nurse placed Rayi in your arms, a hush fell over the room, broken only by your relieved sobs and the baby's soft whimpers. Wonwoo’s eyes misted as he took in the sight of you holding their son—this tiny, perfect reflection of him. The joy that filled him was almost overwhelming, a light so bright it nearly erased the memory of everything that had come before.

But later, when the room had quieted and it was just the three of you, Wonwoo sat by your side, gently brushing the hair from your damp forehead. His gaze flicked between you and Rayi, and a pained shadow passed over his eyes.

“Seeing you trembling after giving birth,” he whispered, voice hoarse and unsteady, “I don’t think we need more children. I can’t... I don’t want to see you in pain like that again.”

You looked up at him, exhaustion softening your features as you managed a small, tired smile. “Wonwoo, we’ll be okay. This little one is worth it,” you said, touching Rayi’s tiny fist as it clung to your finger.

He nodded, though the worry didn’t fully leave his expression. Deep inside, he knew you were right. Rayi was worth it. But the memory of your pain would be seared into his heart, a reminder of just how fiercely he loved you, and how deeply it shook him to see you hurt.

Wonwoo's journey as a first-time dad was filled with more surprises than he could have anticipated. In the first few weeks, he was as nervous as he had been the day Rayi was born, startled awake by every whimper and uncertain about every diaper change. He was meticulous to the point of being comical, triple-checking the swaddle and peeking into the crib every half hour to make sure Rayi was still breathing.

But as the months rolled on, something remarkable happened: Wonwoo began to relax into fatherhood. The once-trembling hands that struggled to button up tiny onesies became adept at cradling Rayi while half-asleep. He learned the art of the midnight bottle, perfecting a one-handed technique so he could hold Rayi close while warming up formula with the other. The exhaustion was bone-deep, but the sight of Rayi’s gummy smile each morning made every sleepless night worth it.

The two of you grew together as parents, finding comfort in the shared laughter and the quiet chaos of raising a newborn. Wonwoo discovered a new side of himself—one that sang silly songs at 3 a.m. just to keep Rayi from crying, that narrated mundane chores with animated voices as though he were performing on stage. His once measured, serious tone became playful and warm, especially when Rayi would respond with delighted giggles that made his heart swell.

There were moments of doubt, of course. Nights when Rayi was teething and inconsolable, when nothing seemed to work, and Wonwoo would feel the weight of his inadequacies creeping in. During those times, he’d find you both leaning on each other, whispering words of encouragement, your hands clasped in a silent promise that you were in this together. You’d remind him that parenting was messy, imperfect, and filled with trial and error, but that Rayi didn’t need perfection—he just needed love.

As Rayi grew from a newborn into a babbling infant, Wonwoo learned to celebrate the small milestones: the first time Rayi rolled over, the first tooth that peeked through his gums, and the first unsteady steps that had Wonwoo following close behind with arms outstretched, ready to catch him. Each new achievement was a moment of triumph not just for Rayi, but for Wonwoo too. Every smile, every laugh, every moment they shared felt like a victory, a reassurance that he was doing okay, that they were doing okay.

One evening, as the golden light of sunset streamed through the living room, Rayi toddled over with a wobbling gait, his chubby hands reaching out for his father. Wonwoo scooped him up, lifting him into the air and watching as Rayi squealed with joy. For a moment, all his early worries about fatherhood seemed like a distant memory. He met your eyes across the room, sharing a smile that spoke volumes about how far you’d both come.

“We did pretty well, didn’t we?” he said, more to himself, as Rayi wrapped his tiny arms around his neck in a triumphant hug.

“Yes, we did,” you replied, coming over to place a gentle hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder, leaning in to kiss Rayi’s soft cheek.

In that moment, as Rayi laughed between the two of you, Wonwoo knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, he was ready to face them—not alone, but with you and your little family, growing stronger and more full of love each day.

*

Wonwoo was out of the city for a schedule when his manager hurried toward him, phone in hand, urgency written all over his face. Wonwoo’s chest tightened. It had to be you calling. That was the compromise you both had made—only call when it was urgent. The same rule applied when he was home alone with Rayi, and you were out. If it could be handled without a call, texting was the way. But this was different. His manager wouldn’t rush over for a casual update.

“Y/N…” his manager muttered, handing him the phone. Wonwoo grabbed it immediately, putting it to his ear, his heart pounding.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, worry evident in his voice. He strained to hear past the slight static on the line, but then it hit him—Rayi’s cries, loud and unrelenting in the background.

“Rayi has a fever,” you said, your voice edged with panic. “He’s been crying nonstop for the past hour. I’m on my way to the hospital.”

Wonwoo’s breath hitched. Rayi was rarely sick. The thought of his son, usually so bright and energetic, being unwell made his stomach twist. “Where are you taking him?” he asked, biting his lip to steady his voice.

“Seoul University Hospital,” you replied, and he could hear the tremble in your voice, paired with Rayi’s cries from the backseat. “I couldn’t think of anywhere else...”

“You’re doing a great job,” Wonwoo interrupted gently, his tone firm and reassuring. “I’ll figure out how to leave early. Please, update me when you get there?”

You hummed in acknowledgment, your breaths uneven. “I will.”

“And drive safely,” he added, his voice softening despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him.

The moment the call ended, Wonwoo sprang into action, explaining the situation to the managers and the members. The moment he mentioned Rayi’s fever, everyone rallied around him with understanding and support, urging him to leave immediately.

His manager didn’t waste a second, getting him into the car for the drive back to Seoul. On the way, Wonwoo stared out the window, fists clenched on his lap, running over every scenario in his head. You had mentioned in a text last night that Rayi was feeling warm, but neither of you had expected it to escalate this quickly.

Wonwoo stepped into the hospital, his pace bordering on a run. He hadn’t had time to change out of his work clothes, though he silently thanked his manager for packing a change of clothes in the car. Right now, none of that mattered. His only focus was reaching you and Rayi.

When he got to the room, his breath hitched. The sight of Rayi, lying pale and fragile in your arms with his tiny arm connected to an IV, shattered him. It was a stark contrast to the lively boy who usually filled the house with laughter. His heart broke into pieces.

“He just fell asleep,” you mouthed softly, careful not to disturb Rayi’s slumber.

Wonwoo nodded and immediately moved to sit beside you. His eyes stayed glued to his son as you gently laid Rayi down on the hospital bed, brushing a stray curl from his forehead before stepping away.

Without a word, Wonwoo stood and pulled you into his arms. His embrace was tight, as though holding you close could somehow erase the weight of the day. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner,” he whispered, his voice thick with guilt.

“Thank you for coming,” you murmured back, leaning into him.

He pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as his eyes searched yours. He noticed the weariness etched into your features—the sleepless night, the worry, the stress of handling it all alone until he arrived. “How is he now?” he asked gently.

You let out a deep sigh. “The doctor said it’s likely a virus. They’re monitoring him, but his fever has come down.”

Relief flashed across Wonwoo’s face, though the worry in his eyes remained. He nodded, then pulled you into another hug, this one softer, his lips brushing against your hair. “You’re doing such an amazing job, love. Thank you for taking care of him.”

You smiled faintly against his chest, grateful for his words, even though the exhaustion still weighed heavily on you.

“You should rest now,” Wonwoo said, pulling back to look at you again. “I’ll stay with him and take care of everything tonight. You need sleep.”

But you shook your head, stubborn as always. “No, I can’t. I need to be here.”

Wonwoo sighed, but he didn’t push further. He knew better than to argue when you were this determined. Instead, he brought over a chair and sat beside you. That night, the two of you stayed awake together, taking turns checking Rayi’s temperature and watching his small chest rise and fall with each steady breath.

Every so often, Wonwoo would glance at you, catching the way your gaze softened as you looked at Rayi. In those moments, despite the exhaustion and worry, he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude—for you, for Rayi, for the family you’d built together.

By the time the early morning light began creeping through the hospital curtains, you leaned your head against his shoulder, both of you too tired to talk but sharing an unspoken bond of love and determination. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you’d face them together.

*

The hospital room was quiet except for the soft hum of medical equipment. After two long days of watching over Rayi, exhaustion had overtaken you and Wonwoo. Neither of you had gone home since that night, surviving on restless naps on the small couch by Rayi's bedside. Wonwoo tried to stay alert, but his body betrayed him, slipping into moments of sleep. Every time he woke, guilt would gnaw at him as he saw you still wide awake, your eyes fixed on Rayi, your motherly instinct unwilling to rest.

That morning, as sunlight filtered through the window, Wonwoo stirred and glanced at you. You were slowly getting up from the couch, your movements unsteady. He sat up quickly, alarmed as you swayed slightly, your hand gripping the armrest for support.

“Babe, are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. He moved to your side just as you nearly stumbled. Placing a hand on your forehead, his expression darkened. “You’re burning up. I think you have a fever.”

“Oh no,” you muttered under your breath, more annoyed with yourself than anything.

Wonwoo's hands gently cupped your face, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Please rest, babe. You’ve been running on fumes, and Rayi wouldn’t want to see his mom pushing herself too hard.” His voice was soft but firm, and the concern in his eyes made your chest tighten.

You blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears. His words hit too close to home, but you didn’t want to break down. Not now.

Unfortunately, your body didn’t give you much choice. By midday, your fever had worsened, leaving Wonwoo no option but to call his brother to watch over Rayi while he took you to the emergency room.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled weakly as you laid on the hospital bed, waiting for the test result.

“No,” Wonwoo said, shaking his head, his tone gentle but resolute. “I’m sorry. You’re sick because you’ve been taking care of Rayi and pushing yourself beyond your limit. I should’ve been better at taking care of you too.” He reached out, softly patting your head in an attempt to comfort you.

Your head throbbed, and the dizziness didn’t help. You couldn’t help but think about Rayi and how frustrating it must have been for him to endure the same symptoms. “This headache... I think I know why Rayi was so upset,” you murmured faintly, earning a sad chuckle from Wonwoo.

“Still hurts?” he asked, his hand tightening around yours. You nodded weakly, and his expression crumbled. He hated feeling helpless, but right now, all he could do was stay by your side, offering silent support.

When the test results finally came back, the doctor informed you that you were dehydrated and your body was too run-down to fight off the fever. “We’ll need to keep you for observation,” the doctor said.

Wonwoo nodded, his grip on your hand steady. “Do whatever it takes to make her better,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

As the nurses prepared for your moving, he turned to you, brushing hair away from your face. “You’re going to rest now, okay? No arguments,” he whispered with a small, tired smile.

After hours of shuffling between emergency room and paperwork, Wonwoo finally managed to arrange for you and Rayi to share a private room. It was ironic, he thought, as he pushed the wheelchair carrying you to the room—both his loves were now patients, and he was playing the role of a full-time caregiver.

Rayi lay in his hospital bed, still hooked up to the IV, his tiny frame looking so much better than days ago under the blue blanket. You were wheeled to the second bed beside him, visibly exhausted but trying to stay strong.

Wonwoo helped you settle in, adjusting your pillow and tucking the blanket around you like you always did for Rayi. “There. Now I have both of you in my sight,” he said softly, sitting down between your beds with a sigh of relief.

You gave him a weak smile. “Not how I imagined our first family staycation.”

Wonwoo chuckled, though there was a hint of tiredness in his voice. “Yeah, I don’t think this is making it to our family scrapbook.” He reached out, holding your hand in one of his while keeping the other near Rayi’s bedside.

The days that followed were a blur of tending to both of you. Wonwoo quickly fell into a rhythm—feeding Rayi when he woke up crying, gently wiping your face with a cool cloth to keep your fever down, and running back and forth to fetch food or talk to doctors.

At one point, as you watched him juggling everything, you couldn’t help but smile. “You’re really something, Jeon Wonwoo. I didn’t think you had it in you to manage two patients.”

He looked at you, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose as he smiled back. “Turns out I’m pretty good at this dad-and-husband thing. But don’t get any ideas about a repeat performance.”

“Noted,” you said, laughing softly.

Rayi started to recover quickly, his fever subsiding by the second day. You could see him regaining his usual cheerfulness, even managing to giggle when Wonwoo made silly faces. But that didn’t stop Wonwoo from being extra cautious, checking on both of you every few minutes.

One evening, when Rayi was sound asleep, you watched Wonwoo nodding off in the chair between the two of you, his head tilted awkwardly. “Wonwoo,” you whispered, shaking his hand gently.

“Hm?” He jolted awake, rubbing his eyes and looking around.

“Go to the couch and sleep,” you said softly.

He shook his head. “I’m fine here. What if one of you needs me?”

You smiled, your heart swelling with gratitude. “We’re okay, Wonwoo. You’ve done so much already. Please rest.”

Reluctantly, he agreed, dragging himself to the small couch in the corner. As he lay there, his head resting on a folded jacket, he thought about how much this experience had changed him. He wasn’t just a husband or a dad anymore—he was part of a team, a family that needed him, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.

As you drifted off to sleep, with Rayi’s soft breathing filling the room, you glanced at Wonwoo one last time. Despite his exhaustion, there was a peaceful smile on his face, and you knew that in his quiet, unwavering way, he would always take care of both of you.

*

After six long days at the hospital, the "family staycation" was finally over. Wonwoo drove the three of you home, the car filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by Rayi's babbles from the backseat. The little boy had been released two days earlier, and during that time, Wonwoo had asked his parents to take care of him so you could recover without any distractions. Now, as the car pulled into the driveway, Rayi was buzzing with excitement to be home again—and to be with you.

The moment you stepped inside, Rayi nearly leaped into Wonwoo's arms, squealing with delight. “He really missed us,” Wonwoo said, his voice soft with affection.

“I think he missed the house more,” you teased as Rayi wiggled to be put down. The instant his feet touched the floor, he zoomed off on his walker, embarking on a grand tour of the house.

Wonwoo chuckled as he picked up the bags, watching Rayi disappear into the kitchen. “Guess he’s making sure everything’s still here.”

Meanwhile, you sank into the couch with a relieved sigh. Days of lying in a hospital bed had made you sluggish, and even standing for more than a few minutes felt like an Olympic feat. As much as you wanted to jump back into your routine, your body begged for more rest.

Wonwoo joined you on the couch, plopping down beside you with a contented groan. Together, you watched Rayi race around, his walker creating an amusing squeak with every step as he stopped to admire his favorite show playing on the TV.

“You know what…” Wonwoo said suddenly, his voice thoughtful.

“Hm?” you hummed, turning to him.

“The most cliché thing that would happen now is me falling sick,” he joked, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as though imagining the scenario.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You? No way. You’re strong. You won’t get sick.”

He nodded, pretending to agree, but the twinkle in his eye betrayed his skepticism. “Let’s hope you’re right,” he said with a grin.

But hope wasn’t enough.

A few days later, the doorbell rang, and you were greeted by a pile of fruit baskets and home-cooked meals from Wonwoo’s bandmates. Word had gotten out that Wonwoo had come down with a fever and couldn’t make it to the schedule.

You peeked into the living room where Wonwoo lay sprawled out on the couch, bundled in a blanket with a thermometer sticking out of his mouth. He groaned dramatically when he saw you holding the care packages.

“I told you it was going to happen,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the blanket.

You stifled a laugh as you set the baskets down. “Guess you’re not as strong as I thought.”

“Hey, I fought off a virus and took care of two patients for a week,” he said, sitting up slightly to defend himself. “I deserve some slack.”

“You do,” you agreed, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Now let me take care of you for a change.”

From the corner, Rayi giggled, pointing at his dad bundled up like a burrito. “Appa funny!” he chirped, and you couldn’t help but laugh along.

Despite his fever, Wonwoo smiled. Even in his weakened state, he knew moments like these were what made being a parent and a husband so worth it.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Just a Shower (A Surprise Story)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: explicit language, newborn times, mostly just fluff(let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.4k Summary: It's your and Emily's first few days at home with a newborn. Your hormones are running wildly high, and you're having a hard time sorting through all the emotions.

You’d never been so anxious in the shower. Usually the shower was your safe space. Something about the white noise and the warmth of the water always calmed you down. But not today. Because somewhere, just out of earshot, Emily was alone with your baby. Your very new, very tiny, very fragile baby. Logically, you knew that Emily was an excellent caregiver. She’d already spent plenty of time alone with the baby, especially while you were knocked out after your C-section. But this felt… different. You were awake right now. If you were awake… well, it felt like you should be taking care of Eve. You felt guilty for these few moments of time to yourself, even as the guilt and anxiety ruined any sense of calm it would have brought you.

You rushed out of the shower, quickly wrapping yourself in a towel and darting out to the bedroom. Eve had been sleeping in her bassinet when you got in the shower and now she was… gone.

“Em!?” you called, padding quickly into the living room. You let out a sigh of relief when you saw Emily on the couch, eating straight from a bag of pita chips, Eve asleep on her chest. She was, predictably, watching reruns of Forensic Files. The closest she could get to the BAU while on parental leave.

She turned when she heard you enter, smiling as she crunched a pita chip and gesturing to the sleeping baby on her chest. You leaned over the back of the couch to caress the soft swirl of hair at the top of Eve’s head, then to kiss Emily’s cheek.

“Everything okay?” you asked. You knew it was a stupid question. Of course everything was okay. It was Emily. You trusted her with your life. She was the mother of your child. Why couldn’t you just let Emily take care of Eve!?

Emily nodded, patting your hand.

“We’re fine. She woke up a little. But… we’re back asleep now.” Emily gently patted Eve’s back, leaning her cheek against the baby’s head.

“Okay…” You breathed, inexplicably terrified. “Okay, good.”

Emily squeezed your hand, watching you with concern. She always read you like a book.

“Hey. We’re good, honey. She’s just fine, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

“I know you won’t…” You tear up a little and dash at your eyes, trying to calm yourself down. And the last thing you want is to make Emily feel like you don’t trust her to take care of your daughter.

“Hey,” she cooed, pulling gently at your arm. “Hey, come here. Come here, baby.”

You walked around to the front of the couch, your hair still wet, wrapped in a towel, feeling so stupid and so emotional, and you still couldn’t stop the tears dripping from your face.

“Come here,” Emily insisted, patting her lap, trying to get you to lay your head down.

“But–” you protested, looking at Eve, her little huff’s of breath against Emily’s chest.

“She’s fine, honey.” Emily pulled your head down to her lap. “You’re my girl, too. And you need some love. You’ve had a rough few days.”

“I’m gonna get your pants all wet…” You protest weakly, laying your head on her lap.

“Please,” Emily retorted. “This is the closest I’ve been to a shower in almost a week.”

Just the feeling of her body against yours, the weight of her hand on your head, her fingers threading through your wet strands of hair… you felt calmer already.

“What’s going on in that pretty head, huh?” Emily asked.

You looked up at her, around Eve’s tiny body resting on her chest. She looked exhausted. And you’d seen Emily tired before. You didn’t feel right making her take care of you, too.

“Em… you’re tired…”

“I am.”

You blinked.

“But I’m also your wife, and I love you, and I want to hear about it when you’re not okay.”

“But–”

“Baby.” Her fingers caressed your eyebrows, and you sighed, just to feel her touch. She always knew how to make you feel better. “You take care of me when you’re tired, don’t you? And Eve?”

“Well, yes, of course, but–”

“No buts. I’m her mom, too. And I’m your wife. And we take care of each other. You’re like… a hormone hurricane right now. You’re gonna be emotional. And I’m gonna take care of you. Okay?”

When you didn’t answer, she flicked your forehead.

“Ow!”

“Okay!?”

“Okay!”

“Good.” Emily shifted Eve a bit in her arms. “Now tell me what’s making you cry.”

You sighed deeply, curling into her a bit, your fingers rubbing at the empty toes of Eve’s onesie.

“I’m so worried all the time. I’m worried I’m not good enough at taking care of her. I’m worried… every time I do anything that’s not with her. I feel guilty. Like… like I’m leaving you with a job that’s not yours. But then, I don’t want you to feel like I don’t trust you with her, and it’s… I don’t know, it’s a lot…”

Emily kept running her fingers through your hair, her touch gentle at your scalp.

“Well…” she started. “I’m gonna assume the whole ‘taking care of Eve is not my job’ thing is your baby mama hormones talking because, as we both know, I am Eve’s mom. Just like you. Taking care of her is every bit as much my job as it is yours. You just have certain… duties I can’t perform.”

“I’m sorry…” you stammered, but Emily cut you right off again.

“Nope. We’re not doing that either. You don’t need to be sorry for feeling like that. Not your fault. Lots of hormones. If you still feel like that in a month or so, we’ll deal with it then. But right now? You just… feel what you need to feel, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Baby?” she started again, a little quieter, more emotional this time.

“Yeah?”

“You’re gonna be such a good mom. You’re already a good mom. Eve is so lucky to have you. I am, too. I just want you to know… on your worst day, you are still an incredible mom and wife and person. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Em…” You grasped the hand that was stroking your hair, bringing it to your lips and kissing her palm.

She rested her hand against your cheek and you closed your eyes and, for a little while, or a long while–it’s hard to tell with baby time–everything was still. All you could hear was breathing. Yours and Emily’s and Eve’s, sharp and quick.

“Will you let me though, Em?”

“Let you what?” she asked, startled out of her reverie.

“Will you let me take care of you, too?”

Letting people take care of her had never been Emily’s strong suit, and you wanted to make sure she didn’t revert to her old, licking-her-wounds-alone ways now that Eve was here. She faltered a bit, but came out alright.

“Yeah. I will.” You could tell she was telling the truth. She’d had to think about it but, yes, she wanted to be a person who lets her partner take care of her.

“Want to prove it?”

“What?”

“Let me take Eve for a bit so you can shower, too,” you insisted, sitting up a bit and replacing Emily’s lap with a pillow so she could get up.

“No!” Emily protested, likely for the same reasons you did.

“Oh, come on. She’ll have to eat soon anyway. And, honestly?” You raise your eyebrows at her. “You need it.”

Emily looked equal parts offended and relieved that you were joking around again. She covered Eve’s ears and hissed, “You shut the fuck up!”

You grinned at her, enjoying the banter after so long of feeling nothing but stress and exhaustion. You shrugged.

“I’m just saying… Wouldn’t hurt.” When Emily still hesitated, you pushed a little harder. “Em. It’s just a shower.”

She huffed, but stood anyway and placed Eve gently on your chest. You loved to watch Emily, even in just this brief transition. The way she was so careful with Eve, so gentle, the way her hand lingered for a moment on the baby’s back, how she pressed a soft kiss to Eve’s head, then another to yours.

“I’ll be back soon, mes filles,” she said, brushing your hair back from your face. She gave you one more kiss on the forehead and another on the lips. “Just yell if you need something, okay?”

“I will.”

You were too focused on Eve to notice, but if you had watched Emily leave the room, you would have seen her pause in the hallway to look back at you and Eve on the couch. You would have seen Emily watching you as you kissed Eve’s head and smelled her baby smell and babbled to her that, “Your mommies love you. Yes, we do. Mommies love you so much.”

You would have even seen her tear up a little, just before she retreated to the shower.

[aquadios]

drunk in love : yang jungwon

wc est. 07k genre best friends to lovers

a sigh escapes your lips for the umpteenth time as you drum your fingers against the steering wheel of your cold car. you’ve been sitting in the parking lot of a busy restaurant waiting for your best friend to appear, given the frantic texts from his friends saying he was too drunk to function.

finally, his figure emerges from the restaurant, stumbling on his feet as his friends try to keep him up straight. you frowned—jungwon wasn’t one to indulge himself in drinks—definitely not when his friends were heavy drinkers themselves.

“oh, jungwon,” you shake your head while keeping your eyes on the blonde. he was smiling and giggling about something, but his gaze was trained in on your car and as he got closer, he found himself walking faster.

although you had expected him to be more intoxicated, he found his way around your car and towards the window of the drivers side.

“you came for me,” jungwon leans in once you roll the window all the way down. “been here for an hour actually.” you smile softly.

jungwon tilts his head, his newly dyed hair falls to the side and he smells like whiskey. to you, your best friend was undeniably beautiful—everyone knew that—but if felt wrong for you to think those things.

jungwon was a friend to you, always has been; however, recently, your heart has been telling your brain something else. mixed signals seemed to be the only feelings you could conjure up about yang jungwon. he was a confusing boy and those confusing actions were reflecting the light you saw him in.

the once beige colors you’ve seen him in began to morph into explosions of red and blue and pink and any other color you could think of. he was turning your life into a splattered painting.

and it’s terrifying.

“ah, i’m sorry baby. you should’ve came in, i would’ve brought you a drink.” he leans his exhausted head against your car while closing his eyes.

you’re grateful he chose to close his eyes the second the heat from your nervous stomach ran up to your cheeks. “i need to drive you home jungwon, i’m not drinking.” you whisper, only because you’re afraid how hard your voice would give out.

“do you need help getting in the car? i can ask the guys, or i can help you myself—”

your words are cut short when jungwon’s hand weaves behind your head and jerks you forward, dangerously close to his own. your nose is brushing against his and you could smell the faint scent of his natural musk that isn’t overpowered by the alcohol.

“i was thinking about you while i was here,” his fingers that were entangled in your hair began to move you closer.

“i was thinking about how much i’ve wanted to kiss you,” if jungwon wasn’t holding onto your head, it would’ve blown off.

your chest heaved up and down as you try to find the words to say to him but nothing was coming out. your mind was going haywire as your heart was beating uncontrollably to the point it hurt.

he continued, “there’s been so many moments where i just wanted to kiss you but i was too scared i’d ruin everything,” he sighs and his intoxicated breath almost has you under the same spell.

“you wouldn’t ruin anything.” your voice is still a quiet whisper. “i can only do this when i’m drunk.” he knows he’s a coward for doing this when he wasn’t sober.

jungwon shakes his head before leaning into your lips. he tastes like bitter peaches and years of pining as he uses his other hand to cup your jaw.

if it hadn’t been for the door separating you two, jungwon would’ve pulled you insanely close to him until your hearts matched the miles they were racing.

when he pulls away, he leaves even more kisses against your lips like the alcohol wasn’t merely as intoxicating.

jungwon smiles and you reciprocate his with an even wider grin. “you finally did it!” heeseung yanks jungwon out of the window, shaking his entire body by his shoulders.

the boys gather around whilst yelling drunken hoots and praises as if he had just won a noble prize (to jungwon you’re worth more)

though, in the middle of the chaos, jungwon turns to you, his eyes showcase a string of emotions he’s never felt before and you’ve never seen. he’s sure it isn’t the alcohol streaming through his veins or the hugs he’s receiving, it’s you.

what’s better than being drunk? being in love.

© aquadios | collection

[kunareads]

heavy angst not a lot of comfort!! + wc: 0.7k

masterlist

choso hasn’t breathed right in months.

he tries sometimes. draws in a deep breath, holds it, waits for his ribs to expand the way they used to when you were curled up beside him, murmuring something soft in your sleep.

but every inhale is shallow, every exhale unfinished. he can’t get enough air in his lungs without you.

he thinks about the phone call often. shoko’s trembling voice on the other end. the way his blood turned to ice when she said they found a body.

they never let him see it. too much damage, they said. better to remember you as you were. so he had nothing to hold, nothing to bury. just a handful of ashes and the suffocating knowledge that you were gone.

he never got rid of your things. your shoes are still by the door. your toothbrush still sits next to his. your clothes still take up too much space in the closet. your blanket—your favorite, the one you used to throw over him when you thought he looked cold—still rests on the couch, untouched. he picked it up once, buried his face in it to see if it still smelled like you. it didn’t. it just smelled like dust.

and now—

now you’re standing in front of him.

but it can’t be you.

his body locks up, frozen in place, because this can’t be real. it’s another cruel trick of his exhausted mind, another dream that will end the moment he dares to reach for you.

he should know. he’s had so many of those dreams, where you’re warm in his arms again, where he gets to say all the things he never did. sometimes, you forget your keys at home and come back for them. sometimes, you whisper his name from the other side of the bed, voice so soft he almost believes it. sometimes, you just look at him, silent and hollow-eyed, before fading into nothing. he wakes up gasping every time, drenched in sweat, grief choking him like a curse he can’t break.

this is just another dream. another hallucination.

but you take a step forward, and he sees the way you move—slow, hesitant, your hands shaking. there’s an old cut on your cheek, bruises along your jaw, faint lines on your wrists like you were bound. your clothes are torn, dirt and dried blood staining the fabric. your lips are cracked, your eyes hollowed by exhaustion.

you look like you fought your way back to him.

“…choso.” your voice is hoarse. he barely hears you, but it devastates him.

he doesn’t realize he’s moving until his legs give out beneath him. his knees hit the floor hard, but he barely feels it. his breath stutters out in a sharp, broken sound, and it’s only then that he realizes he’s crying.

you walk forward, kneeling in front of him, hands ghosting over his shoulders, his face, his hair. “i’m here,” you whisper. “i—i tried—“ your voice cracks, and something snaps.

“where the fuck were you?”

it rips out of him, raw and jagged. his hands clutch at your arms, desperate, terrified, fingers digging in like he’s afraid you’ll slip through them again.

“do you have any idea—“ his voice breaks, and his grip moves to cup your face like he needs proof. “i scattered your ashes. i mourned you. i—i—“ his breath falters, his forehead pressing against yours, a sob rattling through his chest. “i thought i lost you.”

your hands slide up to cradle his face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “i know,” you whisper. “i know, i—“

a short inhale, your fingers curling against his skin. “i thought i was gonna die there.”

choso swallows hard, his throat thick with grief and relief and something darker, something furious. his fingers hover, barely grazing your bruises, as he presses his palm to your ribs to physically confirm you’re real.

who did this to you?

the question burns in his mind, but he can’t bring himself to ask you that yet. not when you’re here, not when he’s barely holding himself together.

he pulls you in, arms locking so tightly around you that you gasp. but you don’t pull away. you clutch at his back, holding him just as desperately, needing this just as much.

his breaths are uneven, shaky, but for the first time in months, he actually breathes.